The Waterfall

by Carla Neggers

  “Oh, no. Oh, God.” Lucy held onto him, pushed back the panic. “You mean Barbara? Where?”

  “Waterfall. She shot the shit out of me. I’m going to pass out. Call the police.” He grimaced, catching his breath. “Where’s Sebastian?”

  “He took off.”

  “Good.”

  Lucy shook her head. “Mowery’s got my father-in-law.”

  Plato sank into the ferns growing up close to the stone wall. “Shit.”

  “The police are on their way. Go meet them.”

  “Your kids—”

  “You’re in no condition to help them, and you don’t know the way. I’ll go. I know a shortcut from here to the falls.”

  “I screwed up,” Plato said. “I didn’t realize Madison knew Barbara, liked her. I should have.”

  “I didn’t think to tell you. I’m sorry.”

  “Luckily the bitch is a lousy shot.”

  Lucy quickly checked his wounds. They were unpleasant, but she didn’t believe they were life-threatening. She shoved the cell phone at him. “I just called the police. Call them again. Can you make it back to the house? You’ll be okay?”

  He pushed her toward the path. “Go. The woman’s a nut. Be careful. Buy time for the police to get here.” He held up his gun—a black, sleek thing—with a shaking, blood-spattered hand. “Take this.”

  “And do what with it?”

  The barest ghost of a smile as he dropped the gun. “You’re right. You’ll just shoot your foot off. Now, go.”

  Barbara’s legs ached from the steep climb up to Joshua Falls. “You’ll see your mother doesn’t care about you. You’ll see.”

  Madison was still defiant. “My mother never held a gun on us.”

  “She’s done far worse. If she hadn’t brainwashed you against me, I wouldn’t have to hold a gun on you. It’s her fault. And I’m just doing this for your own good. You have to see what she’s done to you.”

  This time, Madison kept her mouth shut. She was even worse now that they had J.T. with them. Barbara had caught him hiding in the back of the barn. She’d had to fire at him. He got the point. He hadn’t said a word since. He was scared. Brainwashed. Barbara would make sure he and Madison both got appropriate therapy in Washington. She didn’t want them to have lasting scars from what their mother had done to them.

  Yes, she thought, she could see a future for herself. She would take care of Colin’s children, Jack’s grandchildren. She would see to their upbringing, their education. She would raise them the way Swifts should be raised.

  Lucy’s fault they were frightened and defiant now. All Lucy’s fault.

  She could hear the water rushing over the falls. The rain had started, a steady, cold drizzle. Madison and J.T. didn’t seem to notice. Country bumpkins.

  J.T. slipped on a wet rock and skinned his knee, but he scrambled back to his feet and didn’t complain. Barbara was pleased. He was stoic, like his father and grandfather. “Good boy.”

  “Just keep going, J.T.,” Madison whispered to him. “It’ll be okay. I promise. I won’t let her hurt you.”

  Barbara resisted the impulse to strike the girl. “You sound like your mother. Don’t fill the boy with negative ideas about me, poison him against me.”

  “I don’t need to poison him against you. You’ve poisoned him yourself!”

  That mouth. Barbara gritted her teeth and called upon her heroic self-discipline. She remembered her purpose. They had to see the truth. Both these children did.

  “All right.” They’d reached the top of the falls; the rain was steadier now. And colder, autumn-like. She preferred Washington heat to this dank misery. She nodded to the children. “Stop. Now, listen. Madison, I want you to take the rope.” She tossed the length of rope she’d removed from Lucy’s supply room. “If you do anything stupid, I will shoot you or your brother—possibly both of you, if it’s really stupid. Do you understand?”

  The girl nodded, pale, the rain glistening on her coppery hair. Barbara liked its color. So pretty. They’d have to get it trimmed at a good salon.

  She pointed to the rope. “Take it and tie one end around your waist. Your mother taught you knot tying, I assume? I hope so. You won’t want to get this wrong.”

  “Let J.T. go,” Madison said, shivering now as she tied the rope around her waist. “This is all my fault, he didn’t do anything. If I hadn’t tackled him, Plato would have shot you. J.T. didn’t know anything—”

  Barbara waved her gun. “Tie the rope.” J.T. stood on the rock ledge, trembling and sobbing. Oh, Lucy, Barbara thought, look what you’ve done to your little boy!

  Madison secured the rope. She tested it, and even Barbara, who admittedly knew nothing about knots, could see it was tight. “Very good,” she said. “Thank you for cooperating. You’ll see I’m a fair-minded, disciplined professional. Now, tie the rope around that tree right there.” She pointed with her gun at a thick, misshapen hemlock, its roots growing out over the abyss of the waterfall. “Be careful. Don’t slip.”

  “Why do you want—”

  “Just do it.”

  The girl nodded. The rain had soaked through her shirt and shorts and was making her shiver even more. She crouched down and tied the rope to the tree.

  “I thought about getting a rock-climbing line with one of those harness things,” Barbara said, “but I think this will do. It’s more dramatic. You’ll see.” She leaned forward, over Madison’s shoulder. “Don’t dawdle.”

  “You’ve made your point.” Madison looked up at her, her blue eyes and spray of freckles heart-stoppingly like Colin’s, like Jack’s. “My mother’s awful. I hate her.”

  Barbara smiled. “I know, love. I know. Now, lower yourself over the edge.”

  “First let J.T. go.”

  “Madison, you’re not in charge. I am. I’ve been doing the bidding of the Swifts for twenty years. It’s my turn.” She stood up straight, ignoring the rain pelting down on them, and leveled the gun at the girl. “Now lower yourself over the falls.”

  Barbara stepped back while Madison dutifully stood up and eased herself to the edge of the hemlock’s twisted, gnarled roots. She took a breath, so pale, and gave herself more length on the rope. She tugged at it, making sure the end on the tree held.

  “Don’t take forever,” Barbara said. “If you make me push you, it’ll hurt more. The rope will cut into you. You’ll smash into the rock.”

  The girl nodded. “I know. I’m just a little scared. My stupid mother should be here.”

  “Yes, yes, that’s right.”

  Madison edged her heels out over the abyss. Barbara could hear the water rushing, swirling beneath them. She wasn’t quite sure how long the rope was, but she thought it wouldn’t reach the water. Madison would dangle several feet above the deep, cold pool. She and Barbara would just have to take it from there.

  What to do about J.T.?

  “Madison, don’t,” he cried. “Don’t.”

  Such a big baby, Barbara thought. They’d have to work on that. It was good for him to see his older sister be brave in the face of adversity.

  “J.T., listen to me.”

  Madison’s voice was calm and intense, and Barbara expected she was rallying her brother to the cause. Instead, she swooped out from the edge of the roots, kicked herself off the tree and used her momentum to carry herself toward Barbara. She kicked wildly, knocking Barbara flat onto her behind. Her gun went flying.

  “Run, J.T., run! Get Mom! Go, go, go.”

  Barbara pushed the monster off her. The cold rain made her slippery. “I trusted you!”

  “My brother’s smarter and faster than you are, you bitch.”

  Barbara recoiled, seeing this stupid girl for what she was. Poisoned. Too far gone. She caught the rope with both hands and pulled hard, shoving Madison back to the edge of the ledge. The girl kicked and fought and struggled, but Barbara was too strong, too furious for her to prevail.

  She went down fast. Barbara could see her trying to
get her balance to rappel, but she banged against the rock wall, hitting her arm and shoulder. She yelled out in pain.

  “It serves you right,” Barbara called down to her.

  She sank onto the wet ground. Her hands and wrists were rope-burned, stinging and bleeding as if she’d been in a violent tug-of-war. She was exhausted, but she remembered the boy. She had to rally, find him.

  She reached backward, feeling for her gun, rain pouring into her eyes.

  Lucy. Holding Barbara’s gun. The rain pelted down on her. “You’d better pray my daughter isn’t badly hurt.”

  Barbara saw the fear in Lucy’s eyes. It wasn’t fear for Madison. It was a selfish fear—fear for herself and what she would lose. From the way she held the gun, it was obvious she didn’t know how to use it. She peered over the falls.

  “Mom,” Madison sobbed, “oh, Mom, thank God!”

  Barbara sighed. She was right. The girl was lost. “Are you hurt?” Lucy called. “Can you find a handhold?”

  “My arm. I think it’s broken.”

  Lucy glared at Barbara, her .38 steady. “Why? What did she ever do to you?”

  “Not her,” Barbara said. “You.”

  “Jesus,” a man’s voice said behind them. She looked up, and Plato, bloodied and soaked, fell against a hemlock. “You’re one sick puppy, you know that?”

  Lucy was obviously relieved to see him. Of course, Barbara thought. A man to the rescue. Lucy nodded to the rope still tied around the tree. “Madison’s hanging over the falls. I have to get her out. J.T.—did you see him?”

  Plato shook his head. “Lucy, all hell’s breaking loose down at your house. Cops’re everywhere. We can get a rescue team up here to pull her out.”

  “Call Rob. He’s the best.” She peered down at her daughter, the rain easing to a drizzle. “Madison, how’s the rope? Will it hold?”

  “Mom, I can’t hang on. My arm. I can’t.”

  Barbara was disgusted at the girl’s whining. “I could have killed you and Madison when I had the chance,” she told Plato.

  “Well, you didn’t. It’s okay, Lucy,” he said softly. “I’ve got a gun on our Ms. Allen. She’s not going anywhere.”

  Lucy placed the .38 next to the hemlock root and dropped onto her hands and knees. She hung herself partially out over the rain-soaked ledge, inspecting, as if she knew what she was looking at. Barbara wasn’t impressed. This was all for show.

  “Madison.” Lucy cleared her throat. “Here’s the situation. I can’t come down there and get you, not without equipment. I wouldn’t do you any good. And I don’t have the strength to pull you up by myself. Plato’s here, but he’s injured. You can either wait for Rob, or you can try to work your way up a little higher, then I can help.”

  “I can’t. My arm hurts.”

  “What about your other arm? Use it and your feet. Find hand and footholds. Steady yourself.”

  Barbara sniffed. “Of course, you’re too much of a coward to go after her yourself.”

  “You know, Ms. Allen,” Plato said, dropping down beside her. He was a bloody mess. “Seeing how you’ve shot me twice today, I wouldn’t do or say one damn thing that’s going to piss me off. Right now, consider yourself lucky I’m good with pain.”

  “You wouldn’t shoot me. You’re a professional. You only shoot to kill.”

  “I’m right-handed. You shot me in my right arm. Holding a gun in my left hand—who knows?—it could just go off and put a bullet in your bitching leg.”

  “I loathe your kind,” Barbara said.

  “Yeah, you hold that thought. What’s your pal Mowery up to?”

  Barbara snapped her mouth shut. She wished it would stop raining. It was so damn cold.

  “That’s it,” Lucy was saying, still hanging over the falls. “One step at a time. God, I’d give anything to be there instead of you.”

  “Tell her to pretend her injured arm got cut off,” Plato said. “That’s what I did with my leg when I got hurt.”

  Lucy glanced at him dubiously. “Thanks, Plato. She’s doing fine.”

  Barbara could feel the cold of the rock seeping into her, the dankness of the day. She held herself stiff against shaking and shivering. In another minute, Lucy was pulling on the rope with all her might. Plato transferred his gun into his right hand, his wince of pain barely detectable. He edged over to the tree, grabbed the rope with his left arm and pulled, adding his strength to Lucy’s.

  Madison came up and collapsed into her mother’s arms, sobbing. “J.T.,” she said. “I told him to run. Is he all right? Oh, God, this is all my fault!”

  “It’s not your fault, Madison. You’re fifteen.”

  Plato touched Lucy’s shoulder. “Go ahead. Cops’ll be here in no time. Find your kid.”

  Barbara sighed. Of course, of course. Lucy would abandon the daughter for the sake of the son. Of course.

  Sebastian had the situation under control, if not to his liking. He was tucked behind a nice, fat sofa inside the house Barbara Allen had rented. Darren Mowery and Jack Swift were out on the screened porch, discussing her.

  “Barbie made up the affair with Colin just to get back at you,” Mowery said. “And you fell for it. Makes you feel kind of stupid, doesn’t it?”

  “Where is she now?”

  “My guess, she’s making Lucy’s life miserable. Hates her guts. Totally obsessed with her. Amazing. Miss Super-Professional with a deep, dark secret.”

  “You used her. You manipulated her.”

  “Don’t feel sorry for her.”

  “I don’t,” Jack said.

  “Sebastian Redwing hasn’t done you much good, has he?”

  “If I’d told him the truth from the beginning—”

  “Yeah, well. You didn’t.”

  Sebastian didn’t plan on letting them leave. He’d already disabled Mowery’s car. A clump of mud in the exhaust pipe did the trick. Now, he would wait. So far, Mowery hadn’t made a move against the senator. If he did, Sebastian would act. If he saw his window of opportunity, he’d act. Otherwise, he’d wait for Larry and the Capitol police to get there. Whichever came first was fine with him. With the situation stable, he had no intention of lighting a fuse.

  Then J.T. came screaming up out of the woods. “Grandpa! Grandpa!” He pounded up the deck steps. “She’s got Madison!”

  Sebastian reacted instantly, shooting out through the sliding glass door onto the deck. He had to get to J.T. before Mowery did, even if it meant he’d lost his advantage. He grabbed J.T. The boy was hysterical, traumatized, gulping for air. He clawed Sebastian’s arms. “J.T.,” he said. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

  “Madison—we have to save her. Barbara’s going to kill her. She hung her over the waterfall. She’ll cut the rope. Sebastian!”

  Sebastian stayed between the boy and the screened porch, where he knew Mowery would be quickly calculating his options. “Listen to me, J.T. Go back down the road. Run your ass off, you hear me? Your mother will be looking for you.”

  Being Lucy’s son, he argued. “Grandpa—”

  “I’ll take care of your grandfather. Go, J.T. Trust me. Your mother will be there.” That much Sebastian knew. Lucy would be there for her kids.

  “Well, well, well,” Mowery said behind them. “Daddy Redwing.”

  Sebastian stayed focused on the boy. He grabbed J.T. up and dumped him off the deck, several feet to the ground. J.T. scrambled to his feet, and yelled, “Grandpa! He’s got a gun!”

  Jack Swift pushed away from Mowery and leaned over the rail. “Run, J.T. I’ll be fine. Go.”

  J.T. hesitated, then darted into the woods, down the hill, moving fast. He was twelve and energetic, and he knew the woods. Sebastian had done his job. J.T. wasn’t in Mowery’s hands.

  “What?” Mowery said. “You two think I’d shoot a kid?”

  “I know you would,” Sebastian said, turning to Mowery. The minute he’d heard J.T., Sebastian knew Mowery had him. He had a gun, a Glock. “It didn’t used to be
that way.”

  “Sure it did, you just never noticed. And I wouldn’t shoot a kid in the back. In the head, as part of a business arrangement, only if necessary. I’m not a fucking monster.”

  Jack Swift, gray and breathing hard, collapsed against the deck rail. “I can’t—if anything happens to Madison or J.T. I don’t think I could go on.”

  Mowery snorted. “Enough votes, you’ll go on.” He walked over to the senator and put the Glock at his temple. “No whining, okay? I need to think.”

  “Darren.” Sebastian didn’t move; he was centered, focused. Plato was right. This was work he knew, even if he’d come to hate it and distrust himself. “You’re on a dead-end road. I’ve disabled your car. The local police are probably here by now. The Capitol Police are on their way. Everyone’s coming. Let Jack go and get out now while you can.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because you’re good. You know my first priority is saving the senator and his family. This is your best chance to get away.”

  “Sebastian, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m the only one here with a gun. Suppose I just shoot you both and take off?”

  “If you’d wanted to shoot me, you could have come out to my place in Wyoming and shot me in my hammock.” Sebastian sat on an Adirondack chair and stretched out his legs. “You don’t just want me dead, Darren. You want me ruined, the way I ruined you. You want me to suffer, the way you’ve suffered.”

  “I want the senator dead. I want Lucy and her kids dead and you held responsible, ridiculed, run out of business.”

  “Well, Darren. If you shoot both the senator and me, you have no hostages left. Then what? You’re still on a dead-end road with no car.”

  “Up on your feet.”

  Sebastian did as instructed. He wondered where Lucy was, what had happened to Plato if Madison was dangling from Joshua Falls and J.T. was tearing through the woods on his own.