When he didn’t answer, she looked at him for a silent moment before finally handing him the coffee she’d brought. Then, without a word, she turned on her heels and walked back up toward the cabin.
24
AUGUST 2016
Caitlin stood at the kitchen sink, ostensibly watching the kids play just outside the window. A few minutes earlier they’d been running in a herd behind that big inflatable ball, but now they were taking turns belly flopping on top of it and then rolling off into the grass. Their maniacal giggling and choruses of “Watch this—boom!” “Watch this—flop!” “Watch this—oof!” floated through the screen of the open window like a pleasant distraction.
Caitlin wasn’t watching with her usual vigilance, though. She was trying to force herself to breathe. She couldn’t believe she’d actually done it. She’d crushed up the pills, stirred them into the coffee, and then, in a last-minute paranoia that Finn would detect an off taste, poured in as much French vanilla creamer as she thought she could get away with. She’d walked, determined, down to where Finn was standing at the dock, but even then had stalled, throwing him one last bone, looking for some sign that he might decide to redeem himself after all. And then, when that sign hadn’t presented itself, she had handed the thermos over, as coolly as she could.
But now, her lungs were betraying her, constricting in fear. She had no idea if this would actually work, or if it did, how long it would take or exactly what it would do. But there was no turning back now—her plan was in motion. She had to stop holding her breath. She had to force calm. She had to be ready. For anything.
She startled at the ringing of her cell phone on the counter. With a shaky hand, she lifted it and saw her office number flashing across the screen. She had promised, upon taking the days off so hastily, to make herself available as needed. She had to take it.
“This is Caitlin.”
“So sorry to interrupt your time off. You know what they say: Don’t shoot the secretary.”
She smiled at the sound of Tim’s voice. He sounded so normal, businesslike but friendly with a hint of mischief. Then, just as quickly, her smile faded. Back home, it was just an ordinary day. She should be there too, doing ordinary things. Not holed up with a kidnapper. Not being blackmailed. And not, for the love of God, in the process of drugging someone’s drink. She was just as normal as Tim. How on earth had she ended up here?
Caitlin forced her eyes back to the window; the boys were now wrestling in a heap, the forgotten ball rolling toward the tree line. She willed herself to harness their levity, to force it into her voice. “No worries. I always welcome calls from my administrative assistant.”
“Not this call. This is … well, it’s a little awk-ward.” Tim sang out each syllable in a too-obvious attempt to set her at ease, and she braced herself. “You know that logo Finn designed for the Autumn Art in the Park event?”
She cringed. She hadn’t even thought of all the ramifications of Finn’s crime yet. She’d been hiring him for freelance projects ever since he moved to Asheville. Although he’d easily found work with a firm there, the pay wasn’t great, and he didn’t want to have to ask Violet to go back to work when she was so devoted to raising Bear.
“That came in last month—we’re good.”
“We were good. But now the boss wants revisions. Less autumny, more arty.”
“Tell me that’s not a direct quote.”
“’Fraid so. Sponsors are lining up for this one, so they’ve decided to do one every season. They want something they can adapt for Winter Art in the Park and Spring Art in the Park and have it still look branded.”
Caitlin heard the scrape of the sliding screen door in the living room behind her. Finn must have come up the stairs on the far side of the deck, opposite from where the kids were playing. Was he already feeling sleepy? Disoriented? Sick? Had he tasted the pills? Had he come to confront her?
She turned to face him. He was sliding the door shut as if everything were normal. The thermos was in his hand. She gestured to the phone and put her finger to her lips.
“Well, that is a problem. Clearly I don’t know how to reach Finn to request a logo revision at this particular moment.”
Finn froze at the sound of his name.
“Of course not. Oh my God. And I realize this is not at the top of your list of Finn problems, what with poor Violet and all…” Tim paused, and she knew he was hoping she’d launch into a Violet update. But her eyes had locked with Finn’s, rendering her silent. After a beat, Tim cleared his throat. “It’s just that … well, what do you want me to tell them?”
Caitlin kept her expression neutral even as she forced herself to turn back to the window to check on the kids. “That he’s not available, I guess. We’re going to have to get someone else.”
“I tried that, but it didn’t go over too well. Revisions are included in the project fee we paid him. There’s no budget for a new designer.”
Caitlin groaned inwardly. As if Finn hadn’t already caused her enough trouble. “Look, this sounds like a reasonable request for a rework. If I knew how to reach him, obviously I would…”
She risked a glance over her shoulder at Finn, who had the decency to look chastised. He stood awkwardly by the door, looking down at his feet, and Caitlin quickly turned back so he wouldn’t see her frustration mounting. She didn’t want to argue now, to get him fired up. She needed him complacent. She needed the drink to do its job.
How much of it had he had?
“I’ll hold them off for now,” Tim said. “Just … if you find out that he’s turned up, let me know?”
Sure, right after I explain how he’s happened to turn up at my in-laws’ cabin.
“Of course. But if he turns up, he might be…”
“In custody?” Tim’s voice was hushed with scandal.
And I might be there with him.
She swallowed. “This is embarrassing. I’ll take responsibility. I’ll find the money to hire someone else.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I hired him. It’s my responsibility.”
The room behind Caitlin was heavy with silence as she hung up. Outside, the wrestling match was turning decidedly less friendly.
Finally, Finn spoke. “I’m sorry. Did you need me to—”
Caitlin lifted a hand. “Least of our worries.”
“Right.”
Normal. She just had to act as normal as she could and let this play out. There was no turning back now. She had to be brave.
“Careful, boys,” she called out the window. “Be gentle! Play nice!”
Everyone knew that for Caitlin, calling out a worried warning was as normal as normal gets.
She heard Finn step into the kitchen. He reached around her to turn on the faucet, then rinsed out his coffee mug—the ceramic one he’d been drinking from earlier. She caught sight of a gnat in the milky dregs as they swirled down the drain. He switched off the water and plunked the mug onto the counter behind her.
“Don’t think I’m ungrateful,” he said. “I like French vanilla creamer as much as the next guy. But I also like a splash of coffee in there.”
Caitlin’s cells seized with fear. She forced herself to pivot, just in time to see Finn unscrew the top of the thermos she’d given him and pour half of his caramel-colored drink into the ceramic mug. He then topped off the thermos straight from the coffeepot and took a sip.
“Ah. Much better.”
Damn it. Damn, damn, damn. There’d been five pills in there. Now he was down to, what, two or three? With the caffeine on top of it, would that be enough to take effect? She’d have been better off adding a normal amount of creamer and having him think the coffee tasted a little off. He probably would have drunk it anyway.
She realized then that he was noticing, almost with amusement, that she was eyeing his abandoned mug. She swallowed hard.
“It won’t go to waste,” he said, and another surge of fear gripped her before she realized he was
only talking about the coffee. “I’m going to need more than a couple of cups to keep up with Bear today. I haven’t been sleeping much.”
“Neither has Bear,” she said, before she could stop herself. She couldn’t ignore the echo of that I want my mommy any more than any other living breathing parent of a tiny human being could.
“You heard that.” It wasn’t a question. Finn sighed heavily. He joined her at the window and took another long swig from the thermos.
He’d left the lid off, and she was standing so close she easily could knock into it with her elbow, spilling the whole pharmaceutical mess into the drain. When she’d returned from the dock moments ago and closed the door behind her with shaking hands, she’d thought things had been irreversibly set into play. But they hadn’t. Not yet.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It always amazes me how you moms are all programmed to wake up at every little thing.”
She narrowed her eyes, keeping them on the boys. “There’s nothing little about a kid crying for his mom that way,” she said. “It’s heartbreaking.”
No. She would not knock the mug into the sink. She was not the one who had a wrong to right. Drink up, she thought.
“I know,” Finn said quietly. Honestly. She glanced at him in surprise.
The boys were clomping up the stairs to the deck. They’d burst in any minute now.
He shrugged at Caitlin. “Like I said, I didn’t exactly think this through.”
“Mommy!” Leo came running through the door first, and beyond him she caught sight of Gus extending a hand to help Bear up the last step. They were like brothers, the three of them. Even if Caitlin’s plan to get Bear home worked, would Violet ever allow the boys to be friends after this? Her heart ached.
“Can we do the tent? We want to do the tent!”
The tent had been a gift from George’s parents over the Fourth of July holiday. The boys had used it that weekend in their grandparents’ backyard—if you could consider acres of untouched Ohio countryside a “backyard”—but not since. They’d insisted on bringing it along when she was packing them up yesterday. It was still in the trunk. She’d forgotten all about it.
Caitlin sighed. It was amazing how kids could fail to retain the things you wanted them to remember—look both ways before stepping into the street, ask before helping yourself to a cookie, wash your hands before you eat—but when it came to something you didn’t really want to deal with, they had memories like little elephants.
Finn was shaking his head. No tent in the yard. It was too far outside the controlled area of his experiment.
“Maybe just here in the living room,” Caitlin said wearily, hoping they’d lose interest.
“Yay!” the three shouted in a chorus. “Camping!”
Gus encircled her knee with his arms, pulling on her Bermuda shorts. “Can we have a campfire and marshmallows too?”
Caitlin laughed. “It’s too hot for a fire, Gus. Look at you guys! You’re covered in sweat! But maybe tonight. If we have marshmallows, I mean…”
Finn opened a cupboard and tossed a half-full bag of marshmallows onto the counter. “Found these earlier,” he said. “A little stale, but they’ll work!”
He was trying to act cheerful for Bear, Caitlin could tell. And Bear seemed happy enough. So she went to get the tent out of the trunk. Maybe setting it up would distract Finn from any of the early effects he might be feeling. Maybe it would ensure that he’d keep downing that coffee and still have room for the refill that was waiting for him on the counter.
* * *
Caitlin’s bare feet sank into her in-laws’ luxurious bath mat as she stepped out of the shower. In spite of the August heat, it had felt good to turn the water on as hot as she could stand it and let it steam-clean her mind, just for a minute. But she couldn’t stay in any longer. She questioned her judgment in leaving the kids with Finn even momentarily, though she had activated the security system again at the keypad while he was busy helping them haul blankets and pillows into the tent they’d erected in the center of the living room floor.
But the shower was a calculated move. She sensed that Finn was less likely to let his guard down while she was hovering around. Once the boys were situated at their “campsite,” they’d asked for a DVD, and she’d purposely chosen the one about the trains at the rail yard turning in for the night—the one that bored her to tears but that she often suffered through solely because it seemed to have a sleep-inducing effect on the twins. Maybe it would work on Finn too. Maybe he’d just … just not wake up until after Caitlin had returned Bear to Violet’s side.
As Finn had settled onto the couch and started the show for the boys, she’d risked a look into his thermos on the end table. It was empty. But on the counter, the other half of his oversweetened drink remained untouched, cold, forgotten. She just hoped he’d ingested enough to take effect. Thank goodness she’d gone with the five pills and not just one or two.
Caitlin toweled off as quickly as she could, straining her ears for signs of giggling or talking from the living room. All she could hear was one of those dreadful sing-along Island of Sodor songs. “Let’s pray to God they tire of this show by the time they can read lyrics,” George had once said, echoing her own thoughts exactly. But instead of agreeing, Caitlin had grumbled that he didn’t have to sit through half as many episodes as she did. If she got herself out of this mess somehow—if she got all of them out of this mess somehow—she’d be kinder. There was no reason for bitterness toward George. Even though his job took him away too often, he had their best interests at heart. And he was on track to do what his father had groomed him to do. She’d never aspired to be a senator’s wife, or even a high-powered businessman’s wife, for that matter, but now that Finn had threatened George’s future prospects, she felt defensive of her husband’s hard work. She should never have allowed herself to be anything but proud, even on her most tired days.
She pulled on drawstring khaki capris, comfortable for the long car ride that with any luck she’d be taking today. Please let this work. Please. Let this work. She buttoned up a sleeveless cotton sheath and slipped her feet into canvas deck shoes. No time to mess with hair or makeup—she ran a brush through the wet, tangled mass, twisted it up, and secured it with a clip. She poked her head into the hallway, and when she still didn’t hear anyone, crept toward the living room.
Finn was stretched out on the couch away from her—she could see only the top of his head. He didn’t stir. She inched closer, then closer still, and finally came around the corner, her breath in her throat, a cheerful greeting ready on her tongue. But his eyes were closed. She watched his breathing closely. It was slow, heavy, the sleep of someone who hadn’t really rested for days on end and was badly in need of a deep, undisturbed slumber, one he would’ve kept denying himself if he had anything to say about it.
But he didn’t.
She must have stood there for a full minute, watching the rise and fall of his chest, checking that his cheeks still had color, which they did, and scanning him to see if she could spot any signs of distress, which she couldn’t. She said a silent prayer that she hadn’t given him enough to hurt him. Then she said another that he wouldn’t wake up until she was long gone.
Caitlin peeked her head into the tent. Bear and Gus were sound asleep too, in a tangled mess of blankets, Bear curled up with his thumb in his mouth—the fetal position had never seemed so appropriate as it did now—and Gus slack jawed, his legs thrown almost protectively over Bear’s. Poor little Bear. He looked even more exhausted than his father did. But not for long. Her plan was under way, was going to work. She’d have him back to his mother in hours.
She hadn’t allowed herself to think much about what would happen next. She dared to hope that in person, she could talk Violet into coming here, confronting Finn on her own—assuming Finn was still here to confront by then—taking one last chance to talk things through on their own terms without the authorities calling the shots. Maybe there was stil
l some way out of this, however unlikely, for all of them. But then again, maybe not. Maybe Vi would insist on calling Agent Martin right away. Maybe Finn would be taken into custody and follow through on his blackmail threats. Maybe he’d escape, and she’d be accused of letting him go.
The price Caitlin might pay … well, she’d just have to face it.
But where was Leo?
“Boo!” he shouted, springing up from the pile of pillows against the back wall of the tent. Leo erupted into a fit of giggles as Caitlin’s hand went to her throat. Her eyes darted toward Finn, half expecting him to sit up. He didn’t move. Miraculously, neither did the other boys. Caitlin went down onto her knees and opened her arms, and Leo sank into her hug.
“I was hiding!” he said proudly, his voice muffled by her shoulder.
“I can see that. You scared me!” She could always count on him for a good snuggle, no matter where they were or whom they were with. She knew that would change one day, but she hated to think of it. She held him close for as long as he’d let her and tried to think of exactly what she should do next. She had to disable the alarm, grab the essentials—pull-ups (she’d learned the hard way that the boys couldn’t always wait for the next exit on a long drive), clothes, snacks—and rush the kids out to the car. She’d need to grab Bear’s car seat from that clunker Finn was driving—she still didn’t have the slightest clue where he’d gotten it, or how—and figure out how to install it in her own. And she had to keep the boys relatively quiet while she was loading up—she wasn’t sure how soundly she could bank on Finn sleeping. But if she could just get the car moving in the direction of Asheville, and everyone strapped in, she’d be home free.
Well, neither home nor free, actually. Her own troubles would just be beginning—but Bear and Violet would be together and safe. And that was what mattered.
Leo pulled back and grinned up at her, the kind of goofy grin full of unencumbered love that only the youngest kids can give. And the kind of messy grin that comes only from those who have yet to learn to use a napkin. She had to laugh. “What on earth is all over your face?” It looked like smears of chocolate, and something stickier. Leo had been getting into everything lately. It was the age, people told her, and she had to bite her lip to point out that Gus didn’t seem to have any problems staying out of trouble. She couldn’t stand the idea of people categorizing the twins in the way that she knew they eventually would: the troublemaker and the mama’s boy, the old soul and the wild child, the brawn and the brains.
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