Karen recognized Amelia’s voice.
She didn’t see the blackjack in Annabelle’s hand, the same deadly little leather-covered club her father had used on Tracy Atkinson and several others when he’d knocked them unconscious.
All at once, Annabelle swiveled around.
Karen didn’t even realize what was happening. She was still thinking about Amelia, downstairs somewhere. She saw Annabelle swinging her arm toward her. Then she felt the awful pain on the side of her head. She didn’t even have time to raise the gun.
Karen crumpled onto the floor just inches away from the bloodstains left by Ina McMillan.
“Hi, you’ve reached the McMillans,” Ina said on the recording. “Sorry we’re not here to take your call. But if you’d like to leave a message for George, Ina, Jody, or Stephanie, just talk to us after the beep!”
The beep sounded, and then George’s voice came over the answering machine. “Jessie?” he said anxiously. There was a lot of noise in the background-car horns honking, a whistle blowing, and people talking. “Is anyone there? Hello…”
“Let’s keep Daddy in the dark a little longer,” said the young man in the sunglasses. “It just means he’ll be all that more anxious to get here.”
Jessie didn’t say anything. She stared at him with dread. She couldn’t feel her arms anymore, and it was hard to get a normal breath. But she was more worried about the children. She hadn’t heard a peep from Stephanie’s room in almost an hour. Jody had let out a few muffled coughs about ten minutes ago, but not another sound. She wondered if they could hear their father’s voice right now.
“I can’t figure out why you’re not picking up,” George said on the machine. “I’m thinking maybe Steffie had another asthma attack, and you had to go to the hospital. Um, Jessie or Jody, if you get this, call me on my cell as soon as you can. Let me know what’s happening. It’s 9:15, and I’m at the airport. The line for taxicabs is nuts. I’ll try to get there soon. It might take another half hour. Jessie, thanks for waiting around. I know you need to fly out to Denver tonight. You might need some money. I don’t think you know about the safe in the house, but I certainly have more than enough in there to pay for your ticket. When I get home, I’ll make sure you’re covered….”
The young man chuckled. “Jackpot,” he whispered. He snatched the cordless from the counter. “Make him tell you where this safe is, and then get the combination.” He reached for the kitchen phone.
“I think this machine’s about to cut me off,” George was saying. “See you soon-I hope.” He clicked off, and the recording beep sounded.
“Shit,” the young man muttered. He put down the cordless, and hung up the kitchen phone. “Well, we’ll have to call Daddy back in a little while.” He smirked at Jessie. “So, it sounds like you don’t know anything about this safe, huh?”
Wide-eyed, she just shook her head at him.
George clicked off his cell phone. He nodded to the eleven-year-old. “Thanks, Brad,” he said, over all the noise from the cop show on TV. “You can turn that down now.”
He stood in the Reeces’ family room, an open area with a vaulted ceiling right off the kitchen and breakfast nook. He looked out the sliding glass door at the Reeces’ back lawn. Amid the trees and tall hedges at the far end of the yard was a little pathway Brad and Jody used to go back and forth to each other’s houses. George couldn’t see his house from here. The bushes were too tall.
Jody’s best friend since first grade, Brad was a slightly beefy red-haired boy with thick glasses. He wore jeans and a T-shirt advertising My Name Is Earl, his and Jody’s favorite TV show. He had the tough, surly look of a wrestler, but he was very sweet. Lucky, too, it turned out.
George’s helicopter pilot had radioed ahead for a taxi, and a cab had been waiting for him when they’d touched down at Boeing Field. George had tried to phone his neighbor across the street, Sally Bidwell. He’d thought about using her house as a sort of command post and holding area-a safe haven for the kids and Jessie, if he could get them out of the house. But Mrs. Bidwell hadn’t picked up her phone. So George had tried the Reeces, and gotten Brad. His parents had gone out for the night, and he was home alone. In fact, he’d tried calling Jody earlier in the evening to invite him over for pizza, but no one had picked up. He’d thought about cutting through the backyards, knocking on the McMillans’ back door, and inviting Jody in person. But at the very last minute, he’d decided against it. Lucky.
Jody’s friend had certainly come through in a pinch, too. Brad had already scurried around the house and come up with everything George had figured he might need: a crowbar, a screwdriver, and a sharp serrated-edge kitchen knife. The items were laid out on the Reeces’ breakfast table.
George put his cell phone back in the pocket of his sports jacket.
Brad aimed the remote control at the TV and hit mute. “Do you think you ought to put some of that black stuff on your face, too, Mr. M?” he asked.
“That’s not a bad idea, Brad,” he said. “But I think I’m okay without it.”
He glanced over at the mute TV. George wasn’t sure if, over the phone, the cop show had sounded like an airport taxi stand. He wasn’t even sure if his message had gotten through to anyone. He could only hope it had. He hoped his fabrication about a safe full of money in the house would keep whoever was there preoccupied. They’d wait for him now. He’d made it clear that no one else had the combination. And they’d need to keep his children alive if they wanted his cooperation. It might even prompt them to have Jessie phone him back.
He knew Annabelle Schlessinger-or her friend-hadn’t broken into his home for money. But he also knew that a 19-year-old on the lam wasn’t about to pass up the chance for a safeload of cash.
If they thought he was still at the airport, they wouldn’t be expecting him within the next five minutes.
His hand shaking, George slid open the glass door.
“You sure you don’t want me to come with?” Brad asked anxiously.
“No, thanks, I really need you here,” George said. His stomach was full of knots as he collected the crowbar, screwdriver, and knife from the kitchen table. He slipped the knife and screwdriver into the side pocket of his sports jacket. “If I can get Jody, Steffie, and Jessie out of there, I’ll send them over to you, Brad. Then you can call the cops.” He’d already told Brad this, but it merited repeating. “And if in twenty minutes, you don’t see any of us-”
“Then I call the cops, and get them to haul ass over to your place-9203 Larkdale,” Brad interjected.
George nodded, then he mussed Brad’s red hair. “You know, Jody’s very lucky to have you for a friend,” he said. “You and he will be talking about this night for a long time.”
He stepped outside.
“Good luck, Mr. M,” Brad whispered, standing in the doorway.
George gave him a nod, then ran to the hedges bordering the Reeces’ backyard. Weaving through the bushes and trees, he saw the back of his house. It had been nearly twenty hours since he’d left home to catch a flight to Portland and drive to Salem. Now, that seemed like days ago. He was beyond tired, running on his wits and pure adrenaline. And he still couldn’t stop shaking.
He noticed lights were on in the kitchen and living room and master bedroom. The kids’ rooms were dark. George couldn’t see anyone, or anything else. From the edge of the yard, he crept up toward the house, to Jody’s bedroom window. But it was too high to see inside.
Grabbing a plastic patio chair, George pushed it against the side of the house, then he stepped onto the seat. It was a little wobbly, and he clung to the window ledge as he peered into the bedroom. He saw his son in the darkness, curled up on the bed, hog-tied with his hands and feet behind him. Duct tape covered his mouth. His eyes were closed. George was overwhelmed with rage and frustration. But at least Jody was breathing.
Two windows down, he looked in on Stephanie, tied up on her bed in the same fashion, like a little animal. She was trembling
. He could see the tears on her cheeks. The piece of duct tape over her mouth seemed too big for her little face.
He kept telling himself, at least they’re alive.
Their backyard sloped a bit, and the kitchen was closer to ground level. George didn’t need the patio chair to look inside the window. He heard the TV going, a small portable they kept at the end of the kitchen counter. Suddenly, someone walked right past the window, and George quickly ducked down. He waited a moment, then straightened up and peeked over the window ledge.
The intruder in his kitchen was a young man with pale skin and very black hair. He wore sunglasses and a black suit. He’d probably seen Reservoir Dogs one too many times. He looked like a cocky son of a bitch. He turned down the TV and said something to Jessie.
George could see her, tied to a kitchen chair. At least she didn’t have any tape over her mouth.
The creep in the sunglasses grabbed the cordless phone from the kitchen counter. It looked like there was a gun on the counter, too, but George wasn’t sure. Beyond the kitchen, he had a glimpse into the living room, where someone was sprawled facedown on the blood-soaked sofa. It looked like his neighbor, Mrs. Bidwell.
“Oh, my God,” George murmured, horrified.
The young man picked up the receiver from the kitchen wall phone, and started dialing. He held the phone to Jessie’s face, and then he switched on the cordless from the study so he could listen in.
All at once, George’s cell phone went off.
“Shit!” he muttered, ducking down again. He quickly dug the cell phone out of his jacket pocket and switched it off. Crouched down against the house, he gazed at a patch of lawn illuminated by the light pouring out the kitchen window. He watched a shadow looming in that silhouette. He knew the young man was standing at the window directly above him, looking out. For a few seconds, George didn’t move. Finally, the shadow moved away. “Couldn’t have been anything,” he heard the young man say. “You sure you don’t know where this safe is? I’ve just about turned the master bedroom upside down.”
George dared to peek over the window ledge again. Jessie was shaking her head. “You heard him on the phone earlier. I don’t know a thing about it.”
“It’s screwy he’s not answering his cell,” the guy muttered. Then he said something else, but he moved too far away from the window for George to hear.
George glanced at the patio chair that he’d left beneath Stephanie’s bedroom window. He decided to try getting Jody out first. Jody would be faster, and less panicked than Steffie.
Crouched against the house, George caught his breath. He’d expected to see someone looking exactly like Amelia in there. But it appeared as if the man in the sunglasses was running the show by himself.
George wondered where Annabelle Schlessinger was.
Her head throbbing, Karen regained consciousness. She lay facedown on the dirty living room floor of the Faradays’ beach house. Her hands were tied behind her with some kind of cord. She could still hear Amelia’s muffled cries for help coming from the basement. But she didn’t hear the rain anymore. Karen wondered how much time had gone by.
A shadow passed over her, and she squinted up at Annabelle. Karen almost didn’t recognize her. Her hair was cut in a short shag style. She’d also changed into a black sweater and jeans. In her hand she held the revolver that had belonged to Karen’s father.
Karen realized she must have been unconscious for at least a half hour. Annabelle couldn’t have cut her hair and changed clothes in much less time than that. Thirty minutes. George was already at his house by now.
“Is Blade here?” Karen asked warily.
A tiny smile flickered across Annabelle’s face. “You know about Blade? Well, I’m impressed.” She shook her head. “No, Blade’s in Seattle, running an errand for me. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s finished and on his way here now.”
Karen was thinking of George, Jessie, and the children. They could already be dead right now. Tears welled up in her eyes. Then she heard Amelia’s muted cries again.
“Where have you got her?” she asked. “In the basement? Do they-do they have a storage room down there?”
“They have a fallout shelter,” Annabelle replied, still standing over her.
Karen shuddered. George had told her about his discovery in the fallout shelter at the Schlessinger ranch. “I’d have thought you wouldn’t want to be anything like your father,” Karen muttered, her face still against the carpet. “And here you are, Annabelle, following in his footsteps.”
“Not exactly,” she replied. “I have no intention of killing Amelia. I don’t want that at all. But my sister will learn what it’s like to be abandoned and totally alone. She has that coming to her.”
Karen suddenly felt Annabelle’s foot on her neck. Some dirt from Annabelle’s shoe trickled into her ear. Annabelle started to apply a bit of pressure on her neck and the side of her face. “In just a little while, Amelia will have no friends or family left,” she said. “You see, Blade’s been at Uncle George’s house. So Amelia’s uncle, her little cousins, and your maid too, I’m afraid, they’re all-poof, gone. You’re going to be on the casualty list, too, Karen, very soon. Then Amelia will have no one, except me-the sister she forgot she had. But you know something, Karen? I’ll forgive her for deserting me. I’ll stick by her, the way she should have stuck by me.”
“For God’s sake, how could Amelia have stuck by you?” Karen countered. She felt even more weight pressing against her neck. “Your parents gave her up. They sent her away.”
“Yes, but she didn’t have to fucking forget me,” Annabelle shot back.
Karen felt more weight pressing against her neck. She could hardly breathe.
“We could have still been there for each other,” Annabelle said. “We were for a little while, after they put her in foster care. I could still sense what she was going through, and I knew she picked up on my feelings, too. We might not have talked, or seen each other. But we still shared. I didn’t feel so alone-until her life got better. Then she turned her back on me, Karen. It was like screaming in one end of a phone, with no one listening. I knew she was there, but she cut me out of her life. All I could offer Amelia was pain, so she decided to forget about me.”
“What would you have done if you were her?” Karen asked, barely able to get the words out. “Can you really blame her?”
To her amazement, the pressure on the side of her neck and face eased up. Annabelle stepped back. “Go ahead, I’m listening,” she said.
Karen swallowed hard and caught her breath. “Amelia was four years old at the time,” she said. “She didn’t make a conscious decision to forget you, Annabelle. She was just trying to survive. Didn’t you do some pretty awful things to survive, yourself?”
Annabelle stared down at her for a moment. “Well, thank you, Karen,” she said finally, with a trace of condescension. “Knowing that makes it easier for me to forgive Amelia. After tonight, the police will be looking for her. Me, too, I guess, since I have her face. I’ve already cut her hair.” She patted her own new, short hairstyle. “Like it? I bought us some coloring, too, Auburn Sunset, it’s called. Blade got Amelia and me fake ID’s, too. I posed for both of us in a wig. Blade thinks he’s running away with us, but I’m leaving him behind. It’s going to be just Amelia and me, the way it always should have been.” She let out a sigh. “You know, my parents used to tell people they’d sent Amelia to live with relatives in Winnipeg. Isn’t that funny? Because I think Amelia and I will end up in Canada someplace.”
Karen rolled over on her side, and stared up at her. “Your plan is flawed, Annabelle,” she said carefully. “You know that, don’t you? Amelia will never get over this…genocide of her adopted family and friends. She won’t forgive you for it. She’ll never understand.”
“That’s why I need you to talk to her for me, Karen. You’ll make her understand.”
Annabelle grabbed her arm, almost breaking it as she pulled her up to a standi
ng position. Karen tried to keep from stumbling. She was dizzy, and her head ached.
“One last counseling session,” Annabelle said. “You’ve done family counseling before, I’m sure. It’s all about understanding, forgiveness, and moving on.”
Pressing the gun to Karen’s back, Annabelle prodded her into the kitchen, and then to the basement door.
With the screwdriver, George pried off the bedroom window screen. He stepped down from the patio seat, and carefully set the screen against the house. Then he grabbed the crowbar, and boosted himself back up again. The window wasn’t locked, but he still had to prod the crowbar along the sill to get the damn thing to move. It resisted, making a loud creaking sound.
Jody suddenly squirmed on the bed and rolled over on his side. His eyes lit up when he saw his father. But George couldn’t help worrying. That little bit of noise could have given him away. Any minute now, he expected Annabelle’s friend to appear in Jody’s doorway with a gun in his hand. He’d just seen what that lowlife had done to Mrs. Bidwell.
His heart racing, George worked quickly. He pulled the window open, stopping only for a moment as it squeaked again. The patio chair beneath him moved, and he almost lost his balance. Grabbing hold of the ledge, George pulled himself up. He climbed through the opening, then into Jody’s bedroom. He could hear the TV more clearly now. And he could hear Jessie, too.
“Would it kill you to go in there and take the tape off their mouths for just a few minutes?” she was saying. “Lord, it’s been over two hours….”
“Get off my fucking back,” the man retorted. “Want to join your friend over there on the couch? Now, you need to give their daddy another call, and find out where this safe is…”
George crept to Jody’s bed. He leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Don’t make a sound, okay?” He carefully peeled the tape off his son’s mouth. Jody gasped, then took several deep breaths.
One Last Scream Page 40