by J. D. Faver
“Yes. Yes, Mark. I see,” she said shakily. “Please, just leave us alone.”
“Now, why would I want to do that, Rene?” Mark took a few steps toward her. “So you can tell your boyfriend?”
“I won’t tell anyone,” she said. Just leave now.”
“And no one will ever know, right?” Mark cocked his head. “Don’t insult my intelligence, Rene. You would just love to turn me in, wouldn’t you? Who, in this god-forsaken wilderness, is going to believe that I had to stab this cretin in self-defense?” He turned his attention back to Ben, whose pallor had become pasty white. Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead in spite of the cool temperature.
“Mark, please,” Rene began, then broke off abruptly as Mark drove the toe of his boot into Ben’s ribs.
“And that will teach you to come to the aid of a damsel in distress.” Mark threw his head back and laughed. “Now, I must pay you back for your less than wifely behavior. For shame, Rene! Why would a woman who was given everything throw it all away to come to this wasteland? Why would a woman who lived in luxury run to a bare existence in this shack?”
Rene looked around the homey cabin. She loved the life she had here, but she couldn’t defend it to Mark.
~*~
Maddy peered out the windshield of the four-wheel drive vehicle she’d rented at the airport. The map she clutched was difficult to read as they lurched along in the ruts.
Terrence frowned in concentration, ineffectually attempting to clear the glass.
“Mrs. Sanders, I’m going to have to turn the heat down. I can’t see a thing.”
“Oh, very well, Terrence.” She clutched the collar of her mink closer to her throat and squinted ahead. “Wait! I think that’s where we turn. Sad Horse is up ahead.”
Terrence obediently turned at the small sign and shook his head as though wondering why he had done so. “Are you sure, Mrs. Sanders? This looks so desolate.”
“I think that’s what Rene had in mind.” She pointed to the left. “There it is. Turn there.”
Terrence pulled onto the main street of Sad Horse past a few businesses with frosted windows. He saw what appeared to be a woman hustle out of a bakery and into a red truck.
“Terrence, pull in beside the truck. We’ll ask her for directions.” Maddy rolled down the window as the woman reached to close the door. “Excuse me!”
The woman paused, staring at her through the opening, her eyes narrowing.
“I’m looking for my sister. She’s a teacher here.”
“Of course you’d be her sister,” the woman said. “Doesn’t she look just like Rene?” She turned to the long-faced man sitting beside her in the truck, who also peered at her through the open door.
“But, yes. She is the exact same person.” His heavy French accent colored his words. “Except, of course, for the hair. Rene’s is shorter and,” he hesitated, making snipping motions in the air.
“Unstyled?” the woman offered as he nodded.
“Please,” Maddy broke in. “I’m very worried about her. She’s in danger.”
The man and woman in the truck exchanged a glance.
“Can you tell us how to get to the place she’s living?”
“Follow us. We’re on our way there for our lesson.”
“Lesson?” Maddy raised her elegant brows, thinking these students were a bit older than Rene had described in her e-mails. “Yes, please lead us to her as quickly as possible.”
The woman nodded cheerily, closing the door as the truck drew away from the curb.
Terrence pulled in behind them, trying to stay in the same ruts they cut into the brown slush.
~*~
“Well, Rene? I’m waiting.” Mark raised his eyebrows in an exaggerated expression of boredom.
“I can’t say exactly.” Rene averted her gaze, desperately stalling for time. Surely the Sheriff would arrive soon. “People are different. We want different things. I wanted to teach. I wanted to help people.” She jumped as he slammed his fist down on the counter.
“No! You’re my wife. You’re supposed to help me. You want what I want.”
“What do you want, Mark?” Rene kept her voice even, trying to keep him talking.
“What do I want?” He mimicked her tone. “I want what we had!” he exploded. “I want our perfect life back. Why did you have to destroy everything I worked for?”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Mark.” She glanced at her son, his hand gripping hers and steeled her heart against any remorse she might feel for her actions.
“Well, you did and now you’re going to pay for it.” His tone changed from self-pity to bitterness.
Rene struggled to keep any trace of fear from her face.
He glared at her, his eyes glittering with amusement as he snapped his fingers three times. “You’re just like your sister. I thought I taught you to have more class, but you’re just like her.” He snapped his fingers again. “I’ll show you just like I showed her.”
“What have you done to Maddy?” Rene felt a tight band squeeze her heart. She wanted to get up from her kneeling position, but her legs were cramped and tingling.
“I’ll show you what I did to that bitch. It’s only fitting that I do.” He pushed away from the counter, advancing toward her with a twisted grin on his face.
Rene reached for the fallen shovel, dragging herself upright with it. She gasped as her legs were jolted by the tingling pain of a thousand electric needles. Unable to move, she tried to steady her fluttering heartbeat as Mark neared. Where was the she-bear? Where was her fierce, protective spirit? She pressed her hand against the bear fetish lying warm and hard next to her skin. Gathering her strength, she focused her energy on the approaching enemy.
“What’s the matter, Rene? You look scared. Don’t ever look at your loving husband that way.” Mark laughed, snapping his fingers the requisite three times.
“Isn’t that what you like, Mark?” Rene was amazed to hear the hard edge to her own voice. “You like to frighten women and children. Does it make you feel like a big man?”
“How dare you mock me!” Mark’s face suffused with a purplish hue. “I’m your husband! I deserve your respect.”
“I don’t think you deserve anything from me except loathing.” She saw the effect her words had on him. He reeled under their weight. The tingling in her legs grew stronger.
“You’re nothing but a bully. You can’t comprehend how kind and loving a real man can be to a woman.”
“A real man? You mean like your boyfriend? The man you’ve betrayed me with?” His voice broke as he waved his arms in circles. “Answer me. Are you talking about him?”
Rene gauged the distance between them, afraid she would fall if she tried to move. “I’m talking about any normal man. Any man with normal emotions who is capable of giving and receiving love.” She leaned heavily on the shovel, trying not to show the effects of the tingling waves washing down her legs. “You’re crippled, Mark.
Emotionally stunted.”
Mark looked as though he had been slapped. Slowly the color drained from his face. “Don’t ever speak to me this way again.” His voice came out as a cold hiss.
“It’s over, Mark. Leave now. It’s over.” Rene gripped the shovel, readying herself for the next onslaught.
He wavered, half turning to the door, then back to Rene as though puzzled by her new demeanor.
“No!” He lunged at her, backhanding her across the cheek.
Rene braced herself on her numbed extremities, trying not to fall, trying to protect her fallen cub. Her cheek tingled as well as her feet. She glared at him coldly. “What a big, brave man.” Her voice dripped contempt.
“Shut up!” he screamed, his breath hot against her face. He grabbed her throat, his sinewy fingers wrapping around her neck like a vise.
Sara screamed, a shrill piercing sound that reverberated from the rafters. “I hate you, daddy!” she shrieked. “I hate you! I wish you were dead!”
; Mark loosened his grip, turning just as Rene brought the blade of the shovel sharply down on his foot. He fell to the floor howling in pain.
Rene raised the shovel. He rolled to the side as she swung it at his head. The metal gouged a groove in the hardwood floor.
“Shoot him, Miz Reeny,” Ben panted as he struggled to sit upright.
“Yes, Mommy. Shoot him!” Sara chimed in.
“What?” Mark asked. “What did she say?” Mark’s face registered shock as Sara’s words sank in. “You’ve turned my own children against me,” he accused.
“You’ve done that yourself.” Her heart leaped, hearing the growl of a vehicle pulling into the clearing. She kept her gaze locked with Mark’s, though she longed to see if a rescuer had arrived.
“And are you going to shoot me, Rene?” Mark asked from his place on the floor. “Could you do that?”
“Yes,” she answered, desperate to divert him from the sounds coming from the clearing. She heard a car door slam. Just one. Brett!
“And where does Mommy keep her gun?” he asked Sara, inching closer to the bed.
“No, Sara doesn’t know,” Rene shouted at him.
“I don’t believe Mommy has a gun, Sara,” Mark said as he rose and began to limp toward the child. “You just made that up, didn’t you?”
Sara, round-eyed with fear, shook her head.
“Leave her alone!” Rene took a tentative step. The tingling sensation was abating, but she couldn’t feel her feet yet. She used the shovel as a support, taking tiny steps to cut Mark off before he reached Sara. “Get away from her!” she growled.
“Where is Mommy’s gun, Sara? I don’t believe you know.” Mark spoke in a sing-song voice, crooning the words.
“Yes, I do!” Sara said defiantly. “Mommy told us to never, ever touch it.”
“Well, tell me and I’ll believe you.” Mark loomed over her. “Tell me if you really know.”
“No, Sara,” Rene said. “Don’t tell him.”
“It’s up there,” Sara shouted as she pointed to the carved rosewood box Mrs. Pindar had given Rene.
Mark’s gaze followed the direction she was pointing and landed on the box sitting in a niche created by an irregularity of the logs.
“Well, well, well. What have we here?” Mark clumsily stepped up on the bed and reached over Sara’s head to take the polished box down.
“Sara, come here,” Rene cried out. The feeling had returned to her feet and she took a few steps toward them, holding her arm out to Sara.
“Not so fast, young lady.” Mark grabbed her just as she prepared to dive off the bed. “You stay here with me while I check this box. I hope you’re telling me the truth.”
Sara nodded her head vigorously as Mark removed the lid.
“Mark, let her go,” Rene demanded.
“And you, shut up.” Mark returned his attention to the contents of the box. He laughed with contempt. “You call this a gun? This is a toy.” He held the derringer aloft.
“Mark, be careful. It’s loaded.” She took a few steps toward him, but he stopped her with a glare.
“Right! You’re really loaded for bear, I see.” Mark twirled the tiny pistol around his index finger.
“Sara, get out of the way!”
“What’s the matter? Are you afraid this toy might accidentally go off and Sara might accidentally get shot?” He placed the short barrel to Sara’s temple. “Accidents do happen, you know?” Delighted, Mark laughed at his witticism, wiping tears away as his shoulders shook with mirth.
Footsteps were heard outside. Mark held Sara by the hood of her parka. Someone heavily stamped snow from their boots and knocked on the door.
Behind her, Rene heard Seth stir and groan from his place on the floor.
Mark tucked Sara under his arm and stepped off the bed. “You should invite your guest inside, dear. It’s cold outside.” He grinned at Rene’s stricken expression.
“Brett, go away! Mark’s here!” Rene yelled, hoping to be heard beyond the thick door.
“He’s not getting away that easy,” Mark growled as he dragged the squirming Sara to the door. Her silky parka made it difficult to keep his hold on her.
She held her breath as Mark threw open the door.
The smile on Father Paul’s face froze as he faced the angry stranger holding Sara and a gun.
“Brett, I presume?” Mark asked.
Father Paul glanced from Mark to Rene and back again.
“Allow me to introduce myself, Brett.” Mark spat out. “I’m Rene’s husband.” He fired the small gun.
Father Paul grabbed his chest with gloved hands. He looked puzzled as he fell backwards into the snow.
“Oh, my God!” Rene shrieked. “Father Paul. You shot Father Paul.” Rene stood as though rooted to the spot.
“Father Paul? You’re screwing a priest?” Mark struggled to retain his grip on Sara as she squirmed tearfully.
“Of course not! He’s our priest.” Rene’s lips quivered as she gave in to the feelings she had held at bay for so long. “How could you do this, Mark? You’re a sick animal.” Tears spilled down her cheeks as she accused him.
“It’s your fault, Rene. You’ve driven me to do these things. Be still!” He gave Sara a stern shake and she quit struggling. “It’s your fault and you must be punished.”
“What do you mean?”
“You have to suffer for the things you’ve done.” His voice was silken.
“I am suffering, Mark,” she said between sobs.
“Yes, but not enough. Not nearly enough.” He gazed at her in cold contempt. “I have to do to you what you have done to me. You know? An eye for an eye.”
“What does that mean? All I did was leave you.”
“No, you took away my family. Now I’m going to deprive you of yours.” He held the derringer to Sara’s head.
“No!” Rene cried out. “Please, Mark, don’t hurt her. She’s your own flesh and blood.”
“Yes, isn’t it a pity, because she’s your flesh and blood as well. Lots and lots of blood.” This set him off on another spasm of laughter.
The sound of motors grinding their way onto the road leading to the clearing echoed in the stillness.
“Who is that?” Mark asked. “Were you expecting more company?”
“It’s the sheriff. Ben e-mailed him while you were unconscious.”
“No matter,” he said. “I’ll be gone by the time they arrive and I’m taking Sara where she’ll never be found.”
Rene watched helplessly as Mark backed out the door holding the derringer on Sara. He carried her down the steps, turning toward the sound of the still rushing river.
Rene surveyed the fallen inside the cabin. Grabbing quilts off the bed, she arranged them around Seth and Ben and threw another over her shoulder. She unlocked her filing cabinet and removed the Glock from its case. Priming the chamber, she sent a large caliber bullet into lethal position. Slipping the second clip into her pocket, she ran outside, closing the door behind her.
Father Paul lay sprawled in the snow. He appeared to be lifeless, but she bundled the quilt around him. If the bullet didn’t kill him, the cold would.
Rene followed in the direction Mark headed. She tried to plow through the snow quickly, but it was like running in quicksand. The weight of her heavy boots kept pulling her down into the slush. She carefully placed each foot in the tracks Mark had made. She had to reach Sara in time.
~*~
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“Look! There’s the cabin! It’s just as Rene described it.” Maddy’s nerves were already on edge but her stomach lurched when she realized someone had preceded them. “There’s a truck in front. Do you think it’s Mark?”
The truck they followed parked along side the other vehicle. Terrence pulled up beside it. As they emerged, the woman climbed down from her truck and stood smiling at them.
“It’s going to be a big party. That’s Father Paul’s truck.” She nodded towards it, tuckin
g her gloved hands in her pockets. Her breath made hazy clouds encircling her head.
“It is true. The priest, he beat us here,” the Frenchman said.
Relief flooded over Maddy. If a priest was here everything must be all right. Another motor growled its way into the clearing.
A rusty red tow truck rumbled and roared as it pulled up beside them. The cheery little woman who was their guide grinned widely and stuck her hand up long enough for a wave.
“It’s the Schraeders. They’re here for the lesson.”
Maddy’s eyes watered from the cold and the apples of her cheeks felt as if they might break off, but she couldn’t stop grinning. She felt weak as her anxiety drained away.
“Let’s go inside,” the Frenchman suggested, leading the way. “Oh, mon Dieu!” He halted, staring at the crumpled body in the snow.
Maddy thought her heart had stopped.
“Father Paul!” the woman screamed as she ran to him.
“Rene!” Maddy called out, but there was no answer. A siren wailed in the distance.
Terrence bounded up the steps of the cabin. He opened the door with Maddy at his heels. Maddy plowed into his broad back as he stopped abruptly. “Mrs. Sanders, I don’t think you should be in here.” He turned and tried to herd her outside, but she spotted the two figures on the floor. She shook off Terrence’s restraining hands and ran to kneel beside Seth.
“Seth! Seth, can you hear me?” The child opened his eyes, staring up at her, uncertainly. “It’s Aunt Maddy, darling. Can you hear me?”
He nodded and closed his eyes, breathing an audible sigh.
The siren grew closer and then whined down to silence.
“This isn’t Mark?” Terrence asked from the kitchen area where he squatted beside a large, somewhat unkempt man with a knife handle protruding from his shoulder.
“Good heavens, no,” Maddy said, glancing over the sprawled form.
“He took Sara,” the man said in a breathy voice. “Miz Reeny followed ‘em.”