by Davis, SJ
The God shook his head. “He was wrong. Like I said before, Selene Walker and I shared only a casual friendship. We were never lovers.”
Stan jotted down a few words and moved on. “Let’s skip to the morning that your neighbor disappeared. The day she left the note that linked her conclusively to the death of Diana Janson. September 21.”
The God nodded.
“You said, that day, that Lena seemed disturbed.” He checked his notes. “‘She seemed out of sorts’, were your actual words, ‘perhaps because of the weather.’ Would you care to elaborate?”
The God paced across the room. He opened the bedroom door to look in on Maeve. Outside of the detective’s line of vision, she checked beneath the bed and shook her head. He closed the door and returned to his chair.
“She was edgy, Detective Spaulding, and nervous. I brought her over coffee at our regular walking time, but she was too distracted to drink it. She said she didn’t feel up to a hike.”
“What happened next?”
The God shrugged. “Nothing. I got back in my kayak and paddled home. The lady said she wasn’t up to my company. I elected to give her some space. Perhaps I shouldn’t have done that in hindsight. Things might have ended differently.”
Stan shook his head. “Don’t blame yourself. Women are hellish when they get in that kind of mood. When you look back on her behavior now, she had good reason to be ‘out of sorts’, and it probably had nothing at all to do with you.”
The God hung his head. “Perhaps you’re right. Still, it’s a tragedy that I fear could have been avoided. I wish that things had ended differently. I miss her.”
“I’m sure you do,” the policeman said, capping his pen. “Again, I’m sorry I barged in on you like this. Thank you for your time. I’ll let you get back to your friend.” He extended his hand. The God shook it.
“No worries. She’s young and wears me out. I could use a break now and again.”
“Come on...” The detective laughed. “You’re not that old. What are you, 39? 40?”
The God smiled. “43, actually.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed it. You look good for your age.”
“Thank you. I try to keep in shape.”
He turned the knob and opened the door wide. Stan Spaulding stepped outside. The God stood in the doorway and watched him cross the porch.
On the bottom step, the detective turned back. “Mr. Andreassen?”
“Yes.” The door stopped in mid-swing.
“You don’t think there could possibly be a chance that Mrs. Walker’s still alive, do you?”
The God cocked his head. “Alive? After all this time? No. I think not, Detective.”
“She couldn’t have faked her own death? Perhaps with the help of a good friend? A friend like you or Jake Morris?”
The God frowned. “I find that theory highly unlikely,” he responded.
“I mean, it wouldn’t be that difficult, really, would it? Leave a pile of clothes, tow the kayak out, tip it over, swim back to shore, and hide out for a while. Probably far away, but maybe not…maybe as close as the house next door. It’s possible, isn’t it?”
“Possible, detective?” The God rubbed his temple, eyes closed. “Yes, I suppose it’s possible. But probable? I think not.” The door began a slow in-swing.
“Mr. Andreassen?”
“Yes, detective.”
“Would you mind if I took another look around the cabin and property before I head back to town?”
The God’s eyes narrowed. “Right now, I would mind that very much,” he said looking pointedly over his shoulder. “I have a guest who has been more than patient, detective. She must leave soon and we have not yet finished our…visit. To have you wandering around the house and woods while we continue our…business…would be rather distracting.”
Stan Spaulding shrugged. “I can get a warrant, Mr. Andreassen.”
The God regarded him with cold gray eyes then he smiled. “If you’d like to search the property, then that’s what you should do,” he said. “Goodbye, Detective Spaulding. Talk to the judge and bring back a warrant. I’ll see you when you return.”
He closed the door and turned the lock sighing as he returned to the bedroom. That the detective would follow up on his threat, he didn’t doubt. He’d known that the day would come - it always did. He just hadn’t expected it to come so soon. It was time to move on.
Chapter 50.
“What do we do now?” Maeve stood beside him at the window and watched as the Ford rounded the curve of the driveway. “He’s coming back, isn’t he?”
The clouds had finally broken and a cold wintery mix of rain and snow wet the fallen leaves. The God looked out at the bleak afternoon. His arm went around her waist. “Eventually.”
“We’re in trouble, aren’t we.”
“We could be,” he acknowledged, kissing her neck.
Maeve twisted away. “Once he comes back and finds her here, they’ll be looking for us all over the state.”
“Undoubtedly,” he said, reaching for her.
She shrugged him off and returned to the bed. “Do you want to move her to my place for a while?”
The God shook his head. “He’s got your license plate and your description. It won’t take him more than half a minute with the Department of Motor Vehicles to trace you, then they’ll track you down, get a search warrant, and search your house as well.”
Maeve crouched on the floor and pulled the dust ruffle up. Lena lay unmoving where they’d left her. Her face was deathly pale, her eyes heavily circled. Maeve touched her, feeling for a pulse. “Her name’s not Rhiannon is it.”
“Of course it is.” He stooped beside her and placed his fingers on Lena’s neck. The amount of the drug in her system was an unknown; he wasn’t sure just how much of the sedative she’d gotten. Maybe too little, maybe too much. He found her pulse and relaxed. Her heartbeat was slow and strong beneath his fingers. She was alive.
Maeve shook her head. “Listen, Odin or Dylan or whatever your name is, it’s time you leveled with me. I’m not stupid. I saw her picture in the paper the day after she disappeared. It’s Selene Walker, the woman they accused of murdering that other woman from Greenville, Annie something or other.”
The God smiled and ran his hand over Lena’s ribcage. She was so thin he could feel the imperfections of her bones. Only her breasts were unchanged; they were full and hard. He touched her nipple. It was large and deep brown. Frowning, he shifted his hand and pressed on her abdomen. “You’ve known about her since then?”
“Before that,” Maeve said. “I spoke with her a couple of times in the Grocery Barn and realized you were two-timing her with me. Then I read about the murder and suicide and recognized her picture. I have to admit I was surprised to find out she was still alive, though.”
His eyes shifted from Lena to the girl. She was gazing at him with an intensity he’d never seen before. “And you didn’t tell anyone?”
She shook her head. “I know about the other one you keep in the shed, too.”
The God’s eyes widened with surprise. “You do?”
Maeve nodded.
“Why didn’t you free them? It would have been as easy as one phone call.”
Maeve’s eyes dropped. She picked at the bedcovers. “I don’t care about them. I’m having fun.”
“You weren’t afraid I’d take you, too?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Not really.”
The God lifted her chin and kissed her lips. “What if I told you that I killed Diana Janson? Would you be afraid of me then?”
She shook her head. “I’ve never been afraid of anything in my whole life. I don’t know how to be.”
The God digested her words. He believed her.
“So what do we do now?” she asked.
“Now?” The God smiled. He left her curled on the bed and crouched on the floor. With both hands, he pulled Lena into the middle of the room and stood above her, his eyes resti
ng on her belly. Unless he was mistaken, Selene Walker had finally gotten her wish. She was pregnant. But not for long.
He turned to Maeve and pulled her off the bed to stand beside him. “Now, my love, I suppose it would behoove us to get rid of the evidence.”
“And then?”
He kissed her, long and slow. “Then,” he said as he pushed her away, “we pack up our crap and get the hell out of Dodge.”
***
Lena allowed Odin to drag her body out from under the bed. The bottle and syringe lay where he’d left them. She gave them up reluctantly; she was naked…she had nowhere to hide them.
“What are we going to do?” she heard Maeve ask.
“I’m working on that.”
“We have some time. That cop won’t be able to get to Greenville, find the judge, and get a search warrant without a few hours of driving and paperwork. He won’t be back until tomorrow morning at the earliest.”
“We’ve got a lot to do before then. We have two bodies to dispose of as well as all the evidence…fingerprints, DNA, personal effects… my paintings.”
Lena kept her breathing slow and deep. The bottle and syringe were less than two feet away.
“How about a fire?” Maeve said. “Detective Spaulding knows there are two of us here. If we set the buildings on fire and they find two bodies in the embers, they’ll assume that it’s you and me, won’t they? It’ll take a while for the forensics guys to figure out that it’s not. By that time, we’ll be long gone.”
“We’d have to leave your car and my truck here… how would we get away?”
“Do you have a 4-wheeler?”
“No, but Lena has one over at her place.”
“That’s all we’ll need,” Maeve said. “The ATV trail system runs from here to Dexter. Once we get there, we can take my dad’s old truck and get out of Maine.”
“Truck? I didn’t see a truck in your driveway.”
“He keeps it out back in the barn. It’s got a plow on it for the winter, but it won’t take much time to remove it.”
“So let me get this straight: you want to fetch the 4-wheeler, burn the house and bunkhouse, take the trails to your place, and leave in your dad’s truck?”
“What do you think?” she asked.
“I think it’s probably the best we can do at such short notice. Do you know the way from here?”
“Simple,” she said. “Every turn-off and intersection along the trail system is marked. You head south on the first trail toward Abbot. From Abbot, look for signs for Guilford, then Sangerville, then Dexter. The trail intersects Tanner Mill Road about one mile from my house.”
Lena willed her racing heart to slow. She felt cold sweat break out on her forehead. If Maeve and Odin had their way, she and Aurora would burn to death. Their only hope of survival hinged on the condition that he continued to believe she was unconscious. That and he’d forget to collect the bottle and syringe. Both were long shots she knew; not only did Odin possess a sixth sense when it came to his women, he rarely forgot anything, particularly something as important as the drug.
The bed creaked; she heard the telltale sounds of sex. She cracked her eyes and looked at her captors. They moved in tandem, a tangle of arms and legs on the white coverlet. Slowly, her hands snaked beneath the dust ruffle and grasped the bottle and syringe. She inserted the needle into the cap and depressed it. The liquid it contained squeezed out. Carefully, she pulled the plunger and the drug re-filled the cylinder. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and willed her hands to stop shaking. There was only one shot at freedom. Her timing had to be perfect.
Her eyes returned to the couple on the bed. The girl was on her back, locked securely in the chains. Straddled above her, Odin stroked rhythmically. It was now or never. Taking a last deep breath, she scrambled to her feet and jabbed the needle into the side of his neck.
Odin reacted immediately - he lashed out with one arm, connecting with her cheek. Lena’s head snapped back. She heard a bone crack and her vision blurred. The world around her went gray as she swayed and the syringe fell from her hand. She sank onto her knees, her eyes focused on his, cruel and hard, as he rose to stand above her.
“Well, well, well, Selene,” he said. You’ve been a busy girl. What did you stick me with? The Klonopan?”
She nodded, scooting backward across the floor. Beyond him, on the bed, she saw Maeve sat up and reach toward the key on the nightstand.
He took a step toward her, then another. Staring into the depths of his pale gray eyes, Lena knew she going to die. She closed her eyes, trembling, and waited for the inevitable.
And then he collapsed.
It was too good to be true. Lena watched him warily. She threw the bottle of Klonopan; it hit him and rolled away. He lay where he’d fallen, motionless. She crept forward and prodded him with her foot. He never moved. Bending closer, she touched his face. His eyes opened wide; he grabbed for her wrist as she jumped back.
“Playing possum, huh, Selene?” he said. “Two can play at that game.”
Scrambling for the door, she knocked the key to the chains out of Maeve’s hand and raced down the porch stairs toward the cars. She tried the door of the Toyota first then ran to the Forerunner. Both vehicles were locked.
“Going somewhere, Lena?”
She glanced over her shoulder as she began to run; he was behind her, walking slowly, a smirk on his handsome face. Lena weighed her meager options. She knew she couldn’t outrun him so she headed for the bunkhouse where he kept the oars for the kayaks.
***
Stan Spaulding left the cruiser half a mile down Odin Andreassen’s driveway. He checked his holster, removed his pistol from the glove compartment, and started back along the rutted road that led to the cabin.
Search warrant my ass. It would take him the better part of a day to get a search warrant and return; by that time, Selene Walker would be long gone, if, in fact, she’d been hiding there to begin with.
He negotiated the half-mile quickly. When the logged siding of the camp came into sight, he slowed to a walk, picking his footfalls carefully. Ahead, he could hear voices. A woman and a man. Odin Andreassen and Maria. He took five more steps and crouched low as he peered through the trees.
At first he was confused. The voices came from beyond the cabin where the bunkhouse was situated. He circled right, keeping well back in the trees, and stopped when he gained a visual.
Odin Andreassen stood with his back to the bunkhouse, one hand in his pocket. In the other, he held a length of chain. Before him, her body partially shielded from Stan’s sight, was a woman. She was barefoot, clad in a white toga. Her red hair framed pale shoulders. Stan gasped. He knew her; had seen her picture hundreds of times. It was Aurora Nixon.
“Let her go!”
The cry came from his right. His eyes shifted in that direction as another woman stepped into his sight line. Her long dark hair contrasted sharply with the white of the sheet she clutched around her shoulders; he blinked twice. It was Selene Walker. In her hand, she held the red oar of a kayak. Slowly, he loaded a magazine into his pistol and switched off the safety as the drama between Odin Andreassen and the two women came to a head.
***
“Please don’t hurt her!” Lena cried.
“You should have killed me when you had the chance, Selene,” Odin replied, his voice the epitome of calm. “Klonopan isn’t very effective on me, as you can see.”
Aurora groaned as he pulled the chain taut.
“Don’t you care about her?” Lena took a step forward, brandishing the oar. “Don’t you care about any of us?”
“Of course I do,” he replied. “I love her, just like I loved you all. You, Bridget, Diana, Maeve…each and every one of you! But it’s time for me to move on and I can’t drag you all across the country with me.” He smiled and pulled Aurora close. “Pity about Maeve,” he said, placing his arm around her neck, “she’ll have to learn her lesson the hard way. And as for you, my
pretty Aura…it’s nothing personal, I just need two bodies.”
“No!” Lena cried. “Fight, Aurora! He’s going to set the cabin on fire! Don’t let him lock you in!” She took a step forward.
“Let the girl go!”
The voice came from behind her. Lena stopped and spun around. “Stan!” she said. “Oh thank God!”
The detective stepped to her side, keeping his pistol level. “Step away from the building,” he said to Odin, “and raise your hands above your head.”
Odin Andreassen raised his hands and took a step forward smiling. “Don’t shoot, detective,” he said. “I’m the good guy.”
“Step away from the building,” Stan repeated. “Aurora,” he called. “Move away from him.”
Aurora stepped toward Lena. The chain attached to her neck went taut.
Stan cocked the trigger. “Last chance, Andreassen. Let her go.”
Lena held her breath. Odin shrugged and dropped the chain.
“You’re making a mistake,” he said stepping backward, his voice calm, low, and controlled.
“Stop right there!” the detective said. He reached the middle of the clearing and continued toward the bunkhouse. “Raise your hands in the air.” Reaching for his handcuffs, he took another step forward. “That’s right. Keep them up.”
Lena grabbed Aurora’s hand and edged away. She wrapped an arm around her as they stood before the dock, shivering in the cold.
“I’m going to put these around your wrists now, Mr. Andreassen,” Stan Spaulding said. “Remain absolutely still.”
Fumbling with the cuffs, he reached up with one hand and clipped it closed. The second one wasn’t as easy. “Lena,” he said turning toward her. “Come here and help me.”
Aurora clutched Lena’s hand. She shook her head. “Don’t go.”
“Come on!” the detective yelled impatiently. “I can’t do this without your help.”
Nodding, she pulled her hand away from Aurora’s and took a cautious step toward him.
“Hurry up!” he called. “Mr. Andreassen, you’re under arrest for the kidnapping of Aurora Nixon. I’m going to read you your rights now, okay? You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney.”