Anne was mapping out possible scenarios, imagining various contingencies, and (most importantly) planning an unannounced visit to Gary Pomeroy as soon as she could spare the time.
Assuming she had any left. Cassie was an emotional wreck, but she was also dangerous and capable.
It would be dark in less than an hour. Anne figured Cassie planned her move – whatever it was—for after dark. But that left an hour she’d have to spend in Cassie’s company. “Want to play cards?” Anne asked. “More to the point, do you want me to touch up your roots? Jesus, girl, go to a salon.”
“Shut up, Twyla.”
“Did you fly into Raleigh-Durham? Surely you didn’t drive all the way?” It was remotely possible Cassie had driven her personal vehicle all the way from Pennsylvania.
Cassie looked at her in stony silence.
It had been worth a try. Anne did not speak again, but she wasn’t idle. She had a lot to plan. A lot to lose. There were weapons here in her living room if she could reach them. She counted steps to each one. Each time she came up just a little short.
“That your family?” Cassie said, and Anne’s mind snapped to the present. Cassie waved her gun at the set of pictures on a narrow table against the wall. The table looked like a family heirloom, maybe passed down from the fifties.
“Yes,” Anne said.
“Your mom and dad?”
“Someone’s mom and dad.”
“Where’d they find the guy posing as your husband? He looks familiar.” Cassie was looking at a picture of Anne and her husband, standing in the fall woods, a golden retriever on a leash. His arm was around Anne’s shoulders. Both were smiling; maybe the dog was too.
“He’s in the acting pool.” Actors came in very handy in training exercises.
“Was the dog from the acting pool too?” Cassie tilted her head toward the framed picture.
“Waffle,” Anne said. “The cook’s dog.”
“How’d your husband die?”
“Skiing accident.” That had been Anne’s choice.
“Who’s the girl?”
Anne had a studio portrait of a young woman on the credenza in her office, so she’d picked an informal shot of the same woman to place in her home. The woman looked not unlike Anne, and she was wearing nurse’s scrubs and holding a plaque. (She’d been named nurse of the year.) “That’s my sister, Teresa,” Anne said. “She lives in San Diego.”
Cassie looked at Anne with a mixture of incredulity and distaste. She said, “At my job I can be who I am. I don’t have to fake a family. And no one underestimates me. How can you stand being here with civilians? Being less?”
“But I’m not less,” Anne said. Anne had never thought of herself as a “civilian,” the instructors’ term for non-combatants. Anne was still a fighter and strategist. Her regime at the school was sure, focused, and covertly ruthless; very much Anne, no matter what name she was using. She could have told Cassie about the gradual improvement in the school grade point average, the better win-to-loss ratio of the school teams. (Except girls’ volleyball, Anne remembered; she had to do something about Melissa Horvath, the volleyball coach.)
Anne locked away her concerns with Melissa Horvath. She might not be around to correct the volleyball coach. She couldn’t discount the danger of her situation.
Cassie was obviously pleased to have her former boss at her mercy. That came as no surprise to Anne; Cassie had always wanted to be top dog (or top bitch). She’d never been good at hiding that. She’d waited for the death of Dorcas Epperson, one cold night in a marsh. Then she’d seized her opportunity.
“Did you take care of Epperson?” Anne asked. It was a new possibility, one she hadn’t considered before.
“No,” Cassie said, outraged.
Anne thought, She means it. She wanted to get rid of me, but she didn’t plan the death that brought me down. Idiot.
Anne’s cell phone rang.
“You can get it,” Cassie said after a moment. “No cry for help, or you’re dead.”
Anne nodded. Moving slowly, she rose to go to the kitchen counter. She pulled her phone from her purse. There was a gun hidden not two feet away, and this might be as close as Anne would get to a weapon. But Cassie had stood and was facing Anne, on the watch.
“Hello,” Anne said. She’d seen the caller ID; she knew who it was.
“Are we still on for tonight?” Holt’s voice was cautious.
Anne had been expecting this call since the clock had read 5:30.
Anne was never late.
“I’m so sorry, I have to cancel,” she said evenly. “I’ve had an unexpected visitor. I don’t get to see her often, so we plan to spend the evening catching up.”
After a moment’s silence, Holt said, “Okay. I’m sorry to miss our dinner.”
“Is it Holt?” Cassie mouthed.
Anne nodded.
“Tell him to come,” Cassie hissed.
“Why don’t you come over here?” Anne said obediently. “I’ve got plenty of salad and some rolls. I’d love you to meet my friend.” Anne really enjoyed Cassie’s face when she said that.
“You sure you have enough lamb?” Holt asked. Anne never ate lamb.
“I’ve got enough lamb for all of us.”
“I’ll be right over,” he said. “I’m really looking forward to it.”
“Me too,” Anne said sincerely. She ended the conversation. “He’s coming over,” she told Cassie.
“You two are on dinner terms?”
“Every now and then.” At least three nights a week, sometimes more.
“Are you fuck buddies?”
“My business.”
Cassie could not control her face as well as Anne could. She reddened. Anne had a very faint memory of an instructor telling her that Cassie’d made a play for Holt when they were both at some planning session. That play had been spectacularly unsuccessful.
Even if Anne had not heard the rumor (she was surprised she remembered it, she hadn’t known Holt well at all), Cassie had clearly signaled that she had a history with him, at least in her own mind.
Since Anne had worked closely with Cassie, she’d quickly become aware her subordinate was very touchy about her looks, doubtful of her own sex appeal. It was a point of vulnerability. Anne began to wonder if this search for David Angola had more than one layer. Interesting, but not important.
After ten minutes, there was a knock at the door. When Cassie nodded, Anne answered it.
Holt was clutching a bag of groceries to his chest with his left hand. His right hand was concealed. He’d come armed.
“You’ll never guess who’s here,” Anne said, standing to one side to give him a clear shot if he wanted to take it. “You remember Cassie Boynton?”
Holt smiled and stepped inside. “I did not expect to see you, Cassie,” he said. “It’s been a long time. What are you doing in this neck of the woods?” Anne quietly shut the door behind Holt.
Cassie held up her gun. “I’m looking for some answers,” she said. “Are you going to try to stop me?”
“I am,” said David, behind her. He’d used Holt’s key to come in the back door.
Cassie whirled, but David wasn’t where she thought he’d be. He’d moved as soon as he’d spoken. Anne, who’d begun moving with “am,” leaped behind Cassie and took her in a chokehold. Cassie clawed at Anne’s arm with her free hand, and tried to bring the gun to bear with the other.
Holt made Cassie release her gun by slamming her hand with the butt of his own. Anne heard a bone crack.
And just that quickly it was over, without a shot fired.
Anne had broken a finger once (or twice) so she knew how painful it was. Cassie did not scream. Fairly impressive.
“You’re unarmed,” David said. “You’re under our control. If this was a training situation, what would you tell yourself?”
Cassie did not speak. Her rage filled the room like a red cloud.
“You’d say, ‘Bang, you’re dead,�
�” David told her. “Did you follow me all this way to try to kill me? Are you trying to prove I stole the money?”
“You did,” Cassie said. Though they were all liars by trade, Cassie believed what she said.
David’s dark face was impassive as he said, “I never took a cent.”
“I didn’t either.” Suddenly Cassie launched herself backward, drawing up her knees to explode forward in a kick that hit David’s chest. He staggered back. Since Cassie’s whole weight was suddenly hanging from Holt’s arm, his hold broke.
With a beautiful precision, Anne pivoted on her left foot and kicked Cassie in the temple with her right. Cassie’s head rocked back, her eyes went strange, and she crumpled.
David had regained his feet by then and he was striving to catch his breath. He held his gun on Cassie, but after a few seconds he was sure she was out. His arm fell to his side, and he sat heavily.
Holt had stepped away from Cassie in case David shot her.
“She sounded like she was telling the truth,” Holt said, after a moment of silence.
“She did, didn’t she?” David looked troubled. “I was so sure it was her.”
“She was sure it was you,” Anne said.
David appeared both confused and angry. “Do you believe I’m an embezzler? Twyla, Greg?”
Twyla said, “Anne,” at the same moment Greg said, “Holt.”
“Does it matter what we think?” Holt continued. “One of you will take the blame. I hope it’s her.”
Anne began to pick up the items that had scattered from the grocery sack. Among them was a knife. Anne smiled. She retrieved her own from her jacket. Then, just in case, she got her gun out of the drawer and put it in a handy spot. After all, everyone else in the room was armed.
She was waiting for the inevitable question. Holt obliged by saying, “What do you want to do with her, David?”
“The options are limited,” David said slowly. “We call Farm East and tell – who, Jay Pargeter, I guess?—to come get her. Or we wait until she wakes up, and we ask her some questions. Or we let her go. Or we kill her now.”
“We’re not part of the system any more,” Anne told David, pointing from Holt to herself. “We shouldn’t take part in an interrogation.”
“You can’t let her go,” Holt said.
David looked down at Cassie unhappily. “If she was anyone else, I’d put her down. But she’s earned some respect. She’s done a good job since you left, Anne. Until now.”
Holt glanced at Anne and then said, “There’s another choice. You could take Cassie up to Camp East yourself.”
David looked at Holt with narrow eyes. “Why?”
“Enough people know where Anne is already,” Holt said. “Someone had to tell Cassie. If you call from here, at least ten more people will know. Anne, did Cassie say how she found you?”
“Gary Pomeroy in tech support. She also knew you were here, so she figured David might visit.”
“Son of a bitch,” David said, disgusted. “I’ll pay Gary back. Maybe officially. Maybe on my own time.”
“If you don’t, I will,” Anne said. “I don’t want to have to start all over again. It seems to be too easy to pry the information out of Gary. At least we’ll assume it was him.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” David tensed.
“You knew all along where I was. You sent Holt here.”
“You were getting death threats!”
“Like that’s new. I never believed that’s the only reason he came.”
David looked at Holt. “So you’ve never told her why you left?”
“We never talked about it,” Holt said calmly.
“We don’t talk about the past a lot,” Anne said, which was absolutely true.
“Well, Anne, you might be interested to know that Holt here, back when he was Greg Baer, was suspected in the disappearance—and probable murder—of a doctor in Grand Rapids, Michigan,” David said.
“And?” Anne was unconcerned.
“I got tipped off Greg was going to be arrested,” David said. “We couldn’t let the police come to the facility, obviously. They believe it’s a wilderness camp for adults, but if they had a closer look that wouldn’t fly. I had to drive Greg into town to meet with them. They’d flown in from Michigan.”
“They took me to the local police station and put me through the wringer,” Holt said, smiling. “But considering where I work, it was nothing.”
David stared at him. “Man, they were going to arrest you!”
“Maybe.” Holt didn’t sound worried.
“Oversight voted to hide him on my strong recommendation,” David told Anne, though he sounded as if he considered that was a mistake, just at the moment. “Otherwise his background might raise a red flag, though I swore to them that Greg wouldn’t talk about the program. His background fit the opening here. He had his ears modified and his tattoos removed. A nose job. I figured you wouldn’t recognize him right away. You two hadn’t actually met, as far as Greg could remember. You could get to know him as Holt.”
“You’re right, I didn’t recognize him.” He’d made her vaguely uneasy, though, and it had explained a lot when he let her know who he’d been.
David nodded, pleased. “Oversight charged me with arranging your identities. No one else knew.”
“Except Gary in tech support,” Holt said in disgust.
“Except him.”
“Thanks, then,” Anne said. She smiled brightly. Holt was going to have some talking to do after this. From his face, he knew that.
David looked from Holt to Anne. “All right, I’ll take Cassie with me. I’ll call Pennsylvania once I’ve gotten a couple of hours under my belt so no one can find out where I started. I disabled the GPS on the rental. It’s a seven hour drive?”
“Yes,” Anne said. “Thereabouts. One of us could go with you, fly back. You might need help.”
“No thanks,” David said. “I need to think. Someone took that money. It wasn’t me, and I believe it wasn’t Cassie. But we both might lose our jobs.”
Holt and Anne glanced at each other, quickly looked away. Yes, they needed to talk.
“Where’s your car?” Anne asked David.
“We drove over here in it,” Holt said. He was staring at Cassie, sizing up her shape and weight. He was a practical man.
“Good. We need to find her car,” Anne said.
“Search,” Holt said briefly. Since it was possible Cassie was playing possum – though Anne didn’t think so – Anne stood a safe distance away with Holt’s gun aimed at the prone figure. Holt knelt to search her. In a practiced way, he rolled Cassie to one side, then the other, as he searched her. He pulled two sets of keys from her pockets and stood. “Rental,” he said, “and personal.”
“She’s got a cabin five miles from camp,” Anne said. “If she hasn’t moved.”
“She won’t stay out for much longer,” David said. “If I get stopped . . . I’m a black man. Just saying.” He was saying that not only might he get stopped no matter how carefully he kept to the speed limit, but also that he didn’t want to have to kill policemen. But it would be very, very awkward if he were arrested with a tied-up white woman who was screaming bloody murder.
“I have something to keep her out until you get there,” Anne said. “You sure you don’t want me to come? I could manage her. But I’d have to be back by Monday morning for school.”
“You have no idea how weird it is to hear you say that,” David said, smiling reluctantly. “I’ll take her solo, if she’s drugged. What do you have to keep her quiet?”
Anne ran up the stairs to her attic to open her carefully concealed stash of things she’d figured might prove handy. She was a “waste not, want not” kind of person.
“This should be two doses of thiopental,” Anne said when she returned. She handed the vials of freeze-dried powder to David, along with sterile water and two hypodermics.
“You keep that around? Geez, Anne. What els
e you got?” David went over to the sink to prepare the injections.
“Oh, this is a holdover from Camp East,” she said. “I picked it up in the infirmary after a trainee broke his leg. I thought it might come in handy some day. I stuck it in my go-kit and I didn’t clean it out . . . in the haste of my departure.” (In the middle of the night. With two armed and wary “escorts.” Not her favorite memory.)
“Thanks,” David said. He gave Cassie the first injection. “Is the other side of your garage free?”
“Yes, there’s a control button by the kitchen door. You can drive right in. Might as well leave the kitchen door open.”
In a few seconds—not long enough to have a conversation—Anne heard the garage door rumble up. She nodded to Holt, who squatted to take Cassie’s feet. Anne took her shoulders. Cassie’s body drooped between them like a hammock.
David had lowered the garage door and opened the trunk. “I’ve disabled the safety latch,” he said. “I’ll keep an eye on the clock and stop to give her the second shot. Four hours?”
Anne and Holt laboriously dumped Cassie into the trunk. It was lucky she wasn’t tall.
“Four hours should be right,” Holt said. “Sure you can stay awake?”
“Or I make you a to-go cup of coffee,” Anne said helpfully. She predicted David’s reaction.
Sure enough, he stared at her with ill-concealed suspicion. He said, “No, thanks.”
“Let us know when you get there.” Holt clapped David on the shoulder.
“I hope they find out who took the money,” Anne said.
That was as much goodbye as any of them wanted.
As soon as David backed out, Anne closed the garage door. She and Holt stood in the chilly space.
He was waiting for her to say something first.
“When you were Greg, you had a real family,” Anne said. It was not a guess.
He nodded. “Mom, Dad, brother. My father had stomach cancer. He was having a lot of pain. The roads were icy, and my brother was out of state. So Mom took him to the emergency care clinic at three in the morning because it was lots closer than the hospital. I drove from my hotel to meet them there. The doctor on duty was either incompetent or sleepy or both. He gave Dad the wrong drug. Dad died. He would have died soon anyway, I know. And he was suffering. But it wasn’t his time, just yet. Mom was sure she’d get to take him home.”
Small Kingdoms and Other Stories Page 10