Death Benefits

by Hannah Alexander

  Someone slammed into them from the side. Lucy fell hard and rolled out of Fenrow’s reach, to the edge of the slick rock. Her foot slid over the edge and she screamed.

  The wind whipped rain into her face, blinding her. She heard scuffling and grunting nearby. A foot shoved into her side, forcing her closer to the edge of the rock.

  She screamed again.

  Lightning flashed, and she saw someone leaning over her.

  “I’ve got you, Lucy. Hold on.” Graham. Strong arms lifted her and wrapped her in safety.

  She buried her face against his shoulder.

  “I’ve got you,” he said. “It’s okay now.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight. “Daddy?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Brittany’s out in the—”

  “She’s safe now.”

  “How did you get back?”

  “We got worried, and I called the police when we could get a connection on the cell phone. We tried calling you at the house, but couldn’t reach you. We raced back here as fast as we could come.”

  There was a sound of a gunshot behind them; a scream echoed through the heavy air. The scuffling stopped.

  A moment later, Larry Bager’s voice reached them through the darkness. “I got him. It’s okay. It’s all over.”

  Ray started back down the mountain. The storm had lightened, and the mountain was now crawling with police. He knew the girls were safe—Brittany had met them as she ran screaming down the mountain, streaked with blood from the briar patch. Willow was with her now. Graham had Lucy.

  He knew, also, that an ambulance had been called, and that Steve and Helen Courtney were with Ginger, but Ray needed to be there, to see that she was okay.

  Before he could reach the trail, however, Preston came running back up the mountain.

  “I need your help, Ray.”

  “With what? I want to make sure Ginger—”

  “Ginger’s awake. I talked to Helen. We got a call from Taylor Jackson in Hideaway before I left the house. Fenrow isn’t our only problem. Do you know where Lucy left her backpack?”

  “She told us she dropped it as she was trying to get away from—”

  Preston slapped him on the arm, then pointed along the hillside. “There.”

  Though the power of the storm had let up, lightning continued to flicker enough to give them a twilight view of a small thicket of bushes about thirty feet away…and a man bending over something on the ground.

  “That’s Larry,” Ray said. “Looks like he’s got things under control.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about.” Preston started in that direction. “Come with me.”

  Ray didn’t want to waste time getting to Ginger, even if she was awake. He wanted to see her, touch her, make sure everything was working.

  But something was up. Preston wasn’t one to panic.

  Preston shone the wide beam of his flashlight on Larry’s back. “What’ cha got there, Larry?”

  No reply. Larry continued to work over something in front of him.

  Preston and Ray drew closer.

  Larry turned and glared into the light. “Would you turn that thing off?”

  “I don’t think so.” Preston stepped up to him and shone the light on the small backpack Lucy had been carrying. The bear, Chuckles, lay in Larry’s lap. “How sweet,” Preston said. “I didn’t know he meant that much to you.”

  “Yeah, well, he means a lot to Brittany. I’m sure she’s asking for him.”

  “Really?” Preston reached down and took the bear from Larry’s hands. “I’m on my way down. I’ll just—”

  Larry tried to grab it back, but Preston was faster. “Funny thing, Larry. I got to thinking this afternoon about how Brittany always talked about how Chuckles stopped laughing when their mother died. Then we got word from some friends at home about some evidence Fenrow was supposed to be searching for. Funny you didn’t know anything about that.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Larry rose slowly to his feet.

  “I think you do,” Preston said. “I think you’ve been telling us only what you needed us to know to get us to cooperate with you. We couldn’t leave this island to evade Fenrow, because you wanted to nab him yourself if you could. You didn’t have to kill him, Larry.”

  Preston turned the bear over and held its back to the light. A square of fur was missing, and the inner workings of the battery mechanism was visible. “Tell us where you put the—”

  Larry pivoted and charged up the hill. Preston dropped the bear and started after him.

  “Watch him!” Ray called. “He’s still got the gun!”

  Preston ignored Ray and tackled Larry. Ray shouted for the police, then lunged for the two men wrestling in the mud.

  The gun went off, its blast echoing across the cliffs with the sound of returning thunder.

  Ginger stared at the hideous monster in the mirror. The whites of both her eyes were mottled with bright red from burst capillaries. Her forehead and temples were bandaged, her face was purple-blue, with a deeper bruise on her right cheek. Her neck had dark fingerprints from Fenrow’s hands.

  She returned to her hospital bed. Before Ginger had left Missouri, Mrs. Engle had promised her that Hawaii would give her a whole new understanding of the word colorful. Well, she definitely had a new understanding of it.

  She’d received word from Willow a few minutes ago that Lucy and Brittany had both been checked through the E.R. and were doing fine, with minimal scratches and bruises from the night’s drama. Ginger hoped their emotional state would fare as well.

  Someone knocked at the closed door, and Ginger turned her back to it, facing the window. She didn’t want anyone to see her face.

  “Ginger?” It was Ray.

  “I’m here.” Her voice was gravelly and hoarse. She even sounded like a monster.

  She heard his quick footsteps to her bedside, felt his hand on her shoulder. “I hear you’re doing better,” he said. “I’d like to see them monitor you a little more closely, though.”

  “I’m fine,” she rasped.

  “Your throat took quite a beating, and I’m concerned about head injury. You were out for quite some time.”

  “They’re doing frequent neuro checks,” she assured him.

  He stepped around the foot of the bed, and she saw him wince when he caught sight of her face. She wanted to cover her head with the sheet.

  “It looks better than it did,” he said.

  “You’re all charm.”

  “The girls want to make sure you’re okay.”

  “You can tell them I’m dancing a jig in here.” She knew her sarcasm lost much of its sting with the hoarseness. “Don’t let them come in and see for themselves.”

  Ray sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. “You’re bound to be a little grumpy after what you’ve been through.”

  She ignored the gibe. “Do the police have Fenrow in custody? Please tell me this nightmare is over.” She suddenly recalled that the last time she’d spoken of a nightmare, it had been this morning—which felt like a decade ago. Her comment then had been in reference to Ray’s presence on the island.

  “If you hadn’t been here, Ray…” She closed her eyes. “I can’t bear to imagine what might have happened to us.”

  He didn’t reply. She noticed he hadn’t replied to her question about Rick Fenrow, either.

  “What are you trying to protect me from this time?” She opened her eyes again, and looked at him.

  He met her gaze. “Larry shot Fenrow.”

  She caught her breath. “When? No one told me that. What happened?”

  “I believe it took place about the time they loaded you into the ambulance. Fenrow got desperate and tried to hold Lucy hostage. It didn’t work out as he’d planned.”

  Sudden tears filled Ginger’s eyes. Oh, Lucy. My little sweetheart. What kinds of dreams will you have now?

  “Is he dead?” she
asked.

  Ray squeezed her shoulder. “Yes.”

  Ginger wasn’t so horrified by his death as she was by the sense of relief she felt at the news. What had happened to her compassion? That man was lost for eternity. What agony must he be suffering?

  And yet, he had chosen his own fate by the decisions he’d made in life. That didn’t make the tragedy any more palatable, but Ginger reminded herself she had a bad tendency to take the responsibility of the world on her shoulders.

  “Did Lucy see it?” she finally asked, her voice now hoarse with tears.

  “Graham was holding her when the shot was fired,” Ray said. “She didn’t see anything. She only knew that the people who loved her most in the world were there for her when she needed them.”

  “And Brittany?”

  “Safe in her mother’s arms.”

  Ginger was struggling to recover from the shock when Graham walked in. He was alone. That meant he, too, had deemed it wise not to let the girls see her in her present condition.

  “You heard about Larry and Rick?” Graham asked her.

  Ginger nodded. She was getting tired, and her head hurt.

  “Then there was an accident when Preston jumped Larry,” Graham said.

  Ginger looked at him in confusion. “What? Why would Preston jump Larry?”

  “You know the evidence Rick had been looking for, that Taylor Jackson told you about?” Ray asked.

  “Yes, he called me about it when we were on the trail.”

  “That evidence turned out to be a memory card with photos and documents that Sandi and Rick had taken of Larry’s employer.”

  Ginger looked at her brother. “You’re Larry’s employer.”

  “Apparently, I was only one of them.”

  She felt as if she’d stepped into someone else’s nightmare for once. “I’m missing something here.”

  “Larry wasn’t working for us, Ginger. His real employer is the head of a crime cartel that controls holdings all across the Midwest. Rick and Sandi had collected photos and documents that would incriminate Larry’s employer.”

  “Larry used us?” Ginger exclaimed. “Ray, didn’t I tell you I felt like bait in a trap?”

  “Yes, and I disagreed. I’m sorry.”

  “Larry is dead, too,” Graham said. “He and Preston were struggling for the gun, and it went off. It hit Larry in the chest.”

  Ginger suddenly couldn’t breathe. The shock of this fresh news chilled her to the bone.

  “Larry had been trying to get the memory card of data from Chuckles, where Sandi had hidden it last year,” Ray said.

  Ginger shook her head. “That’s why the bear didn’t laugh. Would someone mind telling me how Larry managed to find his way into our confidence in the first place?”

  “That’s my fault,” Graham said. “Larry first approached me at a town meeting last year, where he gave me his business card. Then he followed up a few weeks later with a visit to the clinic. He seemed polished and professional.”

  “Of course,” Ginger said. “He was a cop for many years. He knew how to play it.”

  “I’ve discovered he was doing surveillance on some people moving into my apartment complex,” Graham said.

  “Rick and Sandi, of course,” Ginger said.

  “Then when Rick set fire to Preston’s cabin, and it became obvious he was stalking Willow, Larry was there, waiting for me to contact him,” Graham said.

  “So Larry was dirty for years,” Ray said.

  “That’s right,” Graham told him. “He’s good, because none of his coworkers ever guessed he was working both sides. Since long before retiring from the force, he’d been the go-to guy for a dirty corporate CEO who couldn’t afford to be identified or his whole regime would fall.”

  “Where did Rick fit in with this?” Ray asked.

  “Rick’s father was set up, and though he was dirty, Rick was convinced he took the fall for a lot of things he didn’t do. Rick was desperate to prove his father’s innocence and get him out of jail. Later, Rick wanted the evidence to prove Larry wasn’t an upstanding P.I.”

  Ginger closed her eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted. Her heart ached more than her head. She was more than ready for this trip to end.

  “When can we go home?” she asked.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Ginger sat on the back deck of her cozy, two-bedroom condo shadowed by a tree-lined cliff, complete with a trickling waterfall, chattering squirrels and two white-tailed deer that peered at her between the white branches of leafless sycamore trees.

  It was unseasonably warm for the first week of February, and Ginger had enjoyed sunshine and temperatures in the sixties for the past four days. Why go to Hawaii when a person could get this wonderful weather literally in her own backyard?

  To the front of the condo, out Ginger’s living room window, there was a view of Lake Taneycomo, and in the distance, Branson Landing, one of the most exclusive new shopping centers in the four-state area.

  She was within a ten-minute drive of just about anything she could possibly want to buy. She’d made new friends at a Bible study sponsored by a newly established church in the area. She kept busy.

  She got to see Lucy and Brittany at least twice a week—and had discovered yesterday she was to be an aunt again. Even more exciting, this morning her oldest son, Phillip, had called from St. Louis to tell her she would be a grandmother for the first time.

  How much better did life get? What a wonderfully blessed woman she was.

  So why didn’t she feel grateful? Why did she, in fact, feel like crying?

  She knew some of her problem stemmed from the excitement of early January. She still had some bruises on her face and neck, though the lingering chartreuse was nearly gone. She knew Lucy and Brittany continued to struggle with disillusionment about Larry Bager’s part in the Rick Fenrow fiasco, though they basked in the love of their new parents.

  What they didn’t know, and wouldn’t for years to come, was that recent evidence pointed to the probability that Larry, and not Rick, had actually been the one who’d killed Sandi. After going back over all Rick’s earlier testimony, and speaking to eyewitnesses that placed Larry in the vicinity of Sandi Jameson’s apartment on the morning of her murder, the authorities had deduced that Larry Bager had placed the final blow that killed Sandi.

  Rick Fenrow may have attempted to use force to get her to tell him where the photographs were, but Larry had most likely done the final deed.

  A man they had trusted with their lives had been a killer.

  Good had come from these revelations. Larry’s employer no longer controlled the empire of a wealthy company. The evidence that had been hidden in the stuffed bear, Chuckles, was bringing down a whole infrastructure of evil.

  Ginger closed her eyes and thanked God for protecting them, and especially the children.

  She’d heard no word about her latest résumé for a missions opportunity in Chernobyl, and held little hope that she would hear anything this week. In fact, now that she knew about her grandchild, she couldn’t deny some hesitation about future prospects.

  The telephone rang inside. Its shrill sound carried through the glass doors.

  She tried to ignore it, listening, instead, to the trickle of water down the side of the cliff, and the call of a mourning dove in the bare-branched dogwood tree in the yard.

  The phone stopped ringing, and she heard her own voice recite its spiel on the answering machine. Then a dial tone. The call was a hang-up.

  Fine. If whoever it was didn’t care enough to leave a message, then it was okay if she didn’t answer.

  Two seconds later came a familiar tune, the one she’d chosen for her cell phone because it always made her want to dance. Today she wanted to cover her head with a pillow and wish the world away. The tune irritated her.

  With great reluctance, as if lifting a heavy weight, she pulled herself from the deck chair and slid open the glass door. The tune stopped before she could reach the cell
on her kitchen counter. But it began its tune again almost immediately.

  She yanked it up and flipped it open. The caller number was blocked. “Yes!”

  “Are you home?”

  She paused, suddenly flustered. “Ray?”

  “That’s right. Are you home?”

  “Yes, but—”

  The doorbell rang.

  “Don’t you think you’d better answer that?” he asked.

  In spite of every inner warning, she felt a smile try to spread across her face. “Ray Clyde, is that you downstairs?” The front door to her condo was at the bottom of a carpeted staircase. She didn’t get a lot of company.

  “Nope.”

  “Oh.” She rushed to the living room, where she could barely peer out the front window and see who was standing there. It was a woman she didn’t recognize. Probably looking for the renter in the downstairs unit. That happened a lot.

  “Ginger? You still there?” Ray asked.

  “Can I call you back? Looks like someone needing directions.”

  “I can hold.”

  Ginger grimaced. “I’ll call you right back.” She snapped the phone shut, and as her toes sank into the thick carpet on the stairs, she couldn’t help wondering why she and Ray always seemed to be at odds. It was as if they were born to disagree about practically everything.

  And she really didn’t want it to be that way.

  She opened the door to find the lost lady smiling, holding a huge basket of tropical goodies—a coconut, a pineapple, passion fruit and guava, with packets of coffees grown in Kauai, and a beautiful, huge red poinsettia centerpiece. And a teddy bear with a Hawaiian grass skirt.

  “Uh.” Ginger gaped at the smiling woman. “Hello. This is 170B, not A. Are you sure you have the right place?”

  The lady, blond and petite and wearing a Realtor badge on her jacket that identified her as Jan, laughed. “You know a hunk named Ray Clyde? Because if you refuse this gift from a man like that, I’d be glad to take him off your hands.”

  “Ray sent this?”

  “Yes, and I’d say he went to quite a bit of trouble to do it. We don’t have a lot of guava in Missouri. Or passion fruit, for that matter.”