“Thank you. Yes.”
The walk back through the hospital was a blur.
Suddenly she was outside in the heat and the noise, drinking in air thick with gasoline.
MacArthur was at her side. “Forgive me, but I need to ask. Do you want your husband cremated here in Thailand, or embalmed and flown back to the United States?”
“Oh, it was his wish to be buried with his family in Boston.”
MacArthur nodded. “Then I’ll instruct an undertaker.” He handed her a card. “I’ll be here in Phuket until you’re ready to leave with... with Michael. Don’t hesitate to call should you need anything.”
He walked off to the road. Of Captain Vee there was no sign.
Tin held the car door open for her. “Do you want to go to your house, Caroline? Or to a hotel?”
“Oh, God, a hotel, please.”
“Good idea. I’ll get you fixed up at somewhere nice. I reckon you deserve it.”
He drove them out into the sun seared street and Caroline closed her eyes and within seconds she was asleep.
96
As the priest droned on in Latin the snow began to fall, landing in wet flurries on Michael’s oak casket in his family’s plot at Boston’s Mount Auburn Cemetery.
Caroline stood at the graveside with a name partner from one of the city’s most august white-shoe law firms.
He unfurled a black umbrella and held it over her head.
A great-aunt of Michael’s—on his mother’s side—had deigned to attend, and her handmaiden’s swiftly shielded her with their umbrellas.
When Caroline had been presented to the crone earlier she had had stared at her with eyes like shards of broken glass and said in whiny Brahmin tones, “A tragedy. Michael once showed such promise.”
Caroline was left unclear as to what was tragic: Michael’s death or that he had married so far beneath him.
This was the first time she’d ever met any of his family.
She and Michael had exchanged their vows at the registry office at Boston City Hall with two of his colleagues as witnesses.
Michael had lived as if his family did not exist, but he’d never severed the umbilical that tied him the vast fortune.
A few of Caroline’s female friends had shown up at the cemetery, breathing frigid white plumes when they air-kissed her and offered their sympathies.
They were too well bred to ask questions, but she knew they were desperate to know what had happened faraway in the sordid tropics.
After the events of last week Captain Vee had made very vague statements to the media on Phuket. Caroline had detected Tin’s hand in this.
Indispensible Tin.
There had been an abduction.
Michael had been killed by the abductors whose identities were unknown.
The Thais were very good at playing their cards close to their chests.
Since her return to the city four days ago Caroline had stayed at the Eliot Hotel in Back Bay.
She had no wish to go to the Newton house, and had instructed a realtor to pack it up and sell it.
She spent a few hours each morning consulting with the lawyer and his squad of juniors, being guided through the process that would leave her an obscenely wealthy woman.
When she wasn’t at the lawyer’s office she was in her suite, watching trash on TV and pigging out on room service.
And sleeping.
God, did she sleep.
The priest ended his rite of committal. The snow was falling harder now, and the mourners were anxious to be done with this.
The lawyer took Caroline’s arm and walked her toward the black limousine that fumed under snow-decked fir trees.
She looked back at the coffin and felt a jab of what she thought must be sorrow. But it was muted. A secondary sensation, like she was listening to somebody else’s story of loss.
97
Caroline sat at the mirror and hooked the diamond earrings into her ears. It was only fitting that she should wear them tonight, on the first anniversary of Michael’s death. She hadn’t planned for the event to fall on this date—things had just worked out that way. As the stones radiated little spirals of light she felt karma’s mischief at play.
Caroline stood and walked across the room of her wooden house and out onto the balcony. She no longer limped. The limp, like so much else, was a thing of the past.
The house was built on the steep slope at the base of a towering limestone cliff. It was almost hidden from sight by the jungle that the builders had barely disturbed in its construction. The wilderness had been incorporated into the design. Rooms had trees growing through them and picture windows offered immersive views of the primeval rainforest.
She’d used a young Thai architect recommended by Tin. He’d flown down from Bangkok to do a presentation on site, and a minute into his pitch she’d said, “You’re hired. I love your ideas.”
She stepped onto the balcony as the sun slid into the sea, in time to catch the fabled green flash. How could she not find that auspicious?
It was still light enough to see the resort’s wood and clay cottages in the jungle below, connected by strings of orange lights to the reception and dining area built right on the beach.
The beach where Liz Keller had ridden Michael to a memorably cinematic climax.
Caroline sipped her white wine and watched as two launches from Phuket slid up to the wooden pier that jutted into the sea. The boats, powered by electricity, made no noise at all. Thundering, smoke belching longtails were banned here.
The fifty people invited to the opening of the hotel left the boats and walked along the pier, where they were greeted by the staff. Coming from all over Southeast Asia, these travel writers, influencers and tastemakers would have dinner and stay the night.
Caroline finished her drink, and took a last look in the mirror before going down to meet her guests.
***
Caroline walked along the pathway that connected her house to the resort. She stopped before the restaurant came into view and looked out at the ocean that had turned to velvet. Closing her eyes, feeling the hot air on her skin, she listened to the sounds of music and laughter that carried to her in the still night.
She’d left Boston a week after burying Michael. It had taken some months for the full weight of her inherited wealth to settle around her shoulders like a chinchilla, but the venerable lawyer had graciously advanced her a sizeable chunk of what he’d called “walking-around money.”
A few days after the funeral she met a trio of her friends for lunch at a colorless suburban bistro. They feigned normalcy, but they watched her nervously over their plates, as if they feared her becoming suddenly, embarrassingly, unhinged.
One of them said, “Such an ordeal, Caroline.”
Another said, “Yes. You must be so relieved to be home.”
The third said, “So where will you live now?”
Caroline set her spoon down in her bowl and stared at the poor woman until she blinked in agitation.
At last Caroline said, “Phuket.”
Another woman said, “You’re going back there?”
“Yes,” Caroline said, standing, “I’ve just decided. I’m going back there.”
She walked out.
Two days later she flew to Thailand and got herself settled, with the help of Tin, in a penthouse on Layan Beach.
He picked her up at the airport, and as he was driving her across to her new accommodation, he said, “I have to say I’m pretty surprised to see you here.”
“Me too. It was an impulsive decision, to say the least.”
“Do you mind if I ask why?”
She looked out at the hot blue ocean and said, “Because this is the place I felt the most alive since the accident. Despite what happened. Does that sound impossibly perverse and contradictory?”
He laughed. “I’m Buddhist, Caroline. I come from a tradition that not only accepts contradictions but actively encourages them.”
&
nbsp; They drove a while and then she said, “That video of Michael and Liz Keller...”
“What about it?”
“Do you know where it was shot?”
“Well, I never saw it. But the cops reckon it was on an island about an hour away by boat.”
“Can you take me there?”
“I could organize it, yeah,” he said, “but why the hell would you want to go there?”
“I don’t have a rational answer. It’s just an impulse.”
“You’re not going to hit me with some closure thing?” Tin said.
“Nope. I just want to see it. That’s all.”
So a few days later he organized a speedboat ride to the nameless island, giving her some of the background to the place on the way over. The moment she stepped onto the beach Caroline knew why she had returned to Thailand.
She turned to Tin and said, “Any chance you’d consider becoming my business partner in an eco-resort?”
“Here?”
“Yes.”
He walked away from her and stood with his bare feet in the water, hands in the pockets of his shorts, staring out at the horizon.
Then he’d turned and nodded and said, “Okay. Let’s do it.”
And so they had done it.
Caroline approached the restaurant, a wood and bamboo structure, open on the sides to the ocean. The guests were seated, drinking and eating starters prepared by the chef she had stolen from a Michelin starred restaurant in Bangkok.
Tin stood sipping champagne by the stairs that led down to the beach.
He saw her and lifted his glass. “Cheers. You look very lovely.”
“And you look very dashing.”
He handed her a glass of champagne. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
Tin walked to the center of the room and tapped his glass with a knife, silencing the diners. He spoke in English and Thai, welcoming the guests.
Then he pointed to Caroline who waited by the door.
“And now I’d like to introduce Caroline Tate, who made all this magic real.”
There was polite applause and Caroline joined Tin, who bowed and stepped away.
“I’m not going to keep you long,” Caroline said. “Thank you for being here tonight. Welcome to paradise. Yes, that’s a cliché but it also happens to be true. When I first saw this island I knew it was the most special place I had ever laid eyes on. I wanted to share that experience with others and the idea of this resort was born.” She swept an arm around the room. “All of this is the work of many dedicated people. Too many people to thank by name, but you know who you are.” She looked at Tin, and nodded slightly. “I want to dedicate this resort to the memory of my husband, Michael, who lost his life saving mine.”
Glasses were raised and she stepped away to loud applause.
Tin took her arm. “Nicely done.”
“Not too cloying, the Michael thing?”
“I think there would’ve been raised eyebrows if you’d hadn’t said it.”
Caroline turned to the woman who had appeared at the lawyer’s side.
“You remember Vee?” Tin said.
It took a real effort not to do a double take. The cop of last year, always dressed in jeans and T-shirts, was transformed. Wearing a cocktail dress and high heels, her face subtly made-up.
“Of course,” Caroline said. “Welcome.”
The cop waid and said, “Thank you. Is so lovely.” A female guest beckoned Vee and she said, “Excuse me,” and stepped away.
“Wow, Captain Vee sure cleans up nicely,” Caroline said.
“She’s a major now,” Tin said.
“Good for her.” Caroline squinted at him. “Are you two...?”
Tin shook his head. “Sadly, no. She plays for the other team.”
“Then the other team is very lucky.” She sipped her drink. “It was sweet of her to come.”
“Oh, she wouldn't have missed it. She’s brought you a gift.”
“Really? There’s no need for that.”
“Oh, there is, believe me,” Tin said. “You’ll understand when you see it.”
98
It was past midnight. A few guests had gathered together at tables, chatting sedately. Most had gone off to their rooms.
Caroline led Tin and Vee into her house. They left their shoes at the front door as was the Thai custom, and padded in barefoot.
“Please, sit,” Caroline said.
Tin took a chair. He sat with his hands spread along the back. His hair was a little mussed. Vee took the sofa, looking immaculate. She sat with a straight back, knees together. Any deportment school would’ve been proud to have her.
“Can I offer you a drink?” Caroline said.
They both shook their heads. Caroline poured herself a glass of white wine. She wasn’t sure why, but she had a feeling she was going to need it.
Tin stared at Caroline, and cleared his throat. “I mentioned that Vee has a gift for you?”
“Yes, you did. I’m intrigued.”
Tin said something to the cop in Thai and she nodded and removed her outsize cell phone from her purse. She looked at Tin, who gestured to the sofa beside Vee.
“Why don’t you take a seat, Caroline?”
She acquiesced and watched as Vee swiped the face of her phone a couple of times. She had beautiful hands with long, delicate fingers. Her nails were perfectly manicured, painted pale coral.
There was a paused video on the screen. Caroline felt a sudden lightheadedness that had nothing to do with the few glasses of wine she had sipped throughout the evening.
Vee pressed play and swiveled the face of the phone toward Caroline. She was looking at greenish night vision CCTV footage shot on a country road.
She watched as a white van drove into frame and stopped. When the driver stepped down and threw a bag into a clump of trees before speeding away, Caroline caught her breath, and time coiled in on itself like a snake swallowing its own tail.
99
Caroline drifted back to consciousness. She blinked, struggling to focus. She lay on the floor of the windowless room. Her hands were zip tied in front of her and her feet were secured.
Her head ached and her left eye was inflamed. She remembered Liz Keller striking her with a rock when she’d made her futile attempt to escape.
She could hear voices coming from the next room. Charlie and Liz, arguing.
It took an enormous act of will, but Caroline lifted herself to her knees. The room spun and she paused to regain her breath. Her hair, matted with blood and sweat, dangled over her face.
After a minute she crawled to the door. Part of the wood of the door was splintered where Charlie had tried to break free, but it was securely locked.
She heard Liz say, “And what the fuck would’ve happened if I hadn’t caught her on the road?”
“I would’ve broken the door down and taken the van and found her. In her condition there was no way she would’ve gone far.”
Liz made a dismissive sound and there was the clicking of a lighter as she fired up a cigarette.
“I’m tempted to finish it now,” Liz said.
“You can’t. It would be stupidly premature.”
“Jesus, I know that Charlie. But as soon as you get the money...”
“Yes, yes. All the loose ends will be tied up. Shipshape and Bristol fashion.”
Liz dragged on her cigarette and exhaled. When she spoke again she sounded calmer.
“I need to go now,” she said. “I’ll be back before dark.”
“Okay.”
“Can I trust you not to fuck it up again?”
“Yes, you can trust me.”
“You won't untie her?”
“No, I will not untie her. Pinkie promise.”
The front door opened and Caroline heard a car starting up and driving away.
She scooted across the room, and sat leaning against the wall. The bolt squealed and the door swung inward. Charlie peered in.
“Ah, you’re awake.”
“Yes.”
“Thirsty?”
“Very.”
“Just a tick.”
He disappeared and she heard the slap of the fridge door. He reappeared in the doorway and rolled a plastic bottle to her. She grabbed it and broke the seal and drank, spilling water down her chin onto her chest. Gasping and drinking more.
Caroline wet her hands and rubbed the cold water into her face, trying to shake off the fog that smothered her brain like cotton stuffing.
Charlie came inside and sat on the floor. He lit a cigarette, watching her.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry about the way Liz roughed you up,” Charlie said, “but you were a naughty girl, trying to do a runner like that.”
“It doesn’t really matter now, does it?” she said.
He gazed at her through smoke, arching his eyebrows quizzically.
“You’re going to kill me aren’t you?” Caroline said.
“Darling...”
“As soon as you get the money from Michael, I’m done right?”
His look said it all.
“And don’t tell me it’s not personal,” Caroline said.
“Well, it isn’t.”
“Or that it’s just business.”
“Well, it is.”
“How much is the ransom, anyway? Five million? Ten?” Charlie’s blink told her she’d guessed right. “Ten million?” He shrugged. “For Michael that’s not money. That’s chickenfeed. A rounding error. You know how monumentally wealthy he is?”
“I have an idea.”
She shook her head and regretted it when the pain welled up.
“No, you don’t. You have no idea.” She looked at Charlie. “You do know that if Michael dies I inherit everything?”
“Where are you going with this?”
“Where I’m going is that if you kill me you kill the golden goose. But if you kill Michael...”
“Kill hubby?”
“Yes.”
Charlie grinned a death’s head grin. “Okay, wait, I’ll play. You want me to kill Michael and let you go?”
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