by Merit Clark
“Vangie, no more talking.”
“Oh. Sorry. Okay.”
Finally, some blissful silence. Evan drove west through the town of Fairplay and then through an even smaller town that was really only a collection of shacks. He turned off onto a dirt road that deteriorated quickly after about a mile.
Vangie stared out the window into the darkness. “Now I know why you couldn’t take the Mercedes. This is more like a trail than a street.”
Evan stopped and got out to unlock a padlock from one end of a heavy chain.
An old pickup was parked by the side of the road. Vangie hadn’t noticed it in the darkness until it roared to life and the headlights suddenly flashed on. A man got out and approached the Cadillac.
“Get out,” Evan said.
“What?” Vangie sounded panicked.
“Do as I say.”
“Evan, please don’t leave me here. I’m so sorry. I’ll do anything. Don’t leave me out here all alone.”
“Vangie, you are such an idiot. We’re trading cars.”
“We are? Why?”
Evan slapped her hard and the man outside pretended not to notice. “Enough. Do as I say or stay in the car and go back into town with him.”
Evan got out and she scrambled to follow him. “Wait. I want to go with you. Of course I do. I’m sorry. I don’t understand what’s happening.”
“The bag.” Evan pointed.
“Oh. Of course.” She retrieved the plastic bag from the backseat and picked her way to the pickup, stepping carefully in the brush with her high heels.
Evan put the truck into gear and drove through the makeshift gate. Behind them the other man replaced the chain. He noticed she was shaking. Good. Evan hadn’t been here in a long time but he knew the road well and navigated confidently, avoiding ruts and boulders. In the dusty yellow glow of the headlights, the road deteriorated even further and became increasingly steep.
“Not that much further.” Evan spoke as if to himself and, for once, she didn’t answer.
The old pickup had no shocks, and when Vangie put out a hand to brace herself, the glint of a chunky gold bracelet caught his eye. She must have snatched the jewelry from the hotel. He’d have to make sure he got all of it back.
When Evan ground to a stop in front of an old building, Vangie took in the weathered siding, the sagging front porch, the rusting propane tank, and practically sobbed with disappointment. “Where are we?”
Evan stared at the cabin, lost in thought. “It’s a place I use to get away.”
“Why did we come here? Why couldn’t we stay at the hotel? The hotel was much nicer.”
It was as if she was insulting an old friend. Evan snapped out of his reverie. “God, I am sick of your whining.” The truck door squealed as he jerked it open.
Uneven, weathered floorboards creaked under his weight as he strode to the front door. He didn’t really care if she followed or not. A wave of sadness washed over him as he pulled on the metal hasp of the padlock securing the front door.
“Evan, I’m scared.”
The unmistakable cabin smell hit him: mustiness, cedar, mothballs.
Her voice rose to a high-pitched, childish whine. “I can’t shoot Bambi. I can’t.”
He turned and looked at her. She clung to the newel post at the bottom of the front porch steps, standing on her tiptoes, as if she didn’t trust the ground to support her. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I know you came up here to go hunting.”
Evan gave a bark of laughter.
Inside he lit the pilot on a gas fireplace in the corner that served as a heater. Then he opened cabinets and checked the refrigerator in the small kitchen. “Good. They did what I asked.”
“Who?” Vangie stood on her toes at the front door now. “The man who met us?”
“Let me show you around.” Evan pulled her inside. “There’s a small wine refrigerator under the counter. Help yourself to whatever you want. And the water’s great. It’s from a well. Very clean. Only tap water I’ll drink. Bathroom’s through there and the bedroom is over here.” He indicated the rooms. “There’s satellite TV, lots of channels but no pay-per-view because there’s no phone service. But there should be enough on to entertain you.”
“Okay.” Vangie sounded uncertain. “I don’t have any clothes.”
He looked at her short skirt and heels. “Rummage through the dresser in the bedroom. There are probably some sweaters. I have to go into town for a while. You have everything you need: plenty of food, the propane tank is full, there’s a backup generator in case the electricity goes out, the—”
“Town?” She cut him off. “What are you talking about? I can’t stay here by myself.”
“Of course you can.”
“Why did you bring me here if you’re going to leave? I didn’t mean to say so much. I didn’t. I’ll do anything you ask. I’ll tell you all about the gun. Please don’t leave me here. I hate to be alone. Especially when I don’t know where I am.”
He grabbed her wrist and yanked her toward him. His voice was a low growl. “You’re right. You will tell me everything. But not now. I have to leave and I have no qualms about tying you up while I’m gone. Would you like that?”
Vangie pulled away with a shriek. “No! Don’t tie me up when I don’t know where I am.”
Evan watched her curiously. “While I’m gone, why don’t you try to work up some gratitude. You are the reason I’m doing all of this.”
“I’m grateful.” Tears made shiny streaks in the powder she’d applied earlier in the car. “What if I need something? How do I get in touch with you?”
“What do you need?”
“I don’t know. What if there’s an emergency?”
He fished in his pocket and then set a bottle of pills on the counter. “There won’t be. Here. This is what I gave you last night. Drink some wine. Watch TV. Think of it as a vacation.”
And then he was out the door. He heard her call his name and try to follow but she wasn’t quick enough, and as he drove away, he didn’t look back. There was no landline at the cabin and no cell service. When he passed back through the makeshift gate, he saw the small orange dot of a cigarette as the man nodded to him. Evan’s prey wouldn’t get far, even if she had the sense to try.
One problem taken care of, at least temporarily.
Chapter 23
Jack nodded and the hotel manager opened the door.
Yelling “Police!” with guns drawn, Jack and Serena burst into the empty room.
Serena checked the bathroom and called “Clear.”
Jack re-holstered his .45 and surveyed the room: the ropes hanging from the lights on the wall, the rumpled sheets, and the half-eaten cheeseburger on the room service tray. Amidst a sea of melting ice and water in a silver bucket sat two unopened bottles of wine. “They left in a hurry.”
“All of her makeup and toiletries are still in there.” Serena nodded toward the bathroom.
“And her clothes are in the closet.”
“Maybe they’re planning on coming back.” Serena pointed to a plate holding an untouched fruit and cheese assortment.
Jack felt a chill of certainty. “I don’t think so.”
He took one last look around the room. Evan had parked his mistress in a downtown hotel. He’d brought his sex paraphernalia. Evan’s intention appeared to be staying here with Vangie, which confirmed Jack’s suspicion that the attack on Corie was unplanned. Why had Evan gone back to his house? What set him off?
“Let’s go check out the car.” Jack walked out and headed down the hall.
“I talked to the hotel manager.” Serena followed him onto the elevator. “The reservation was open ended. Markham told them when he made it that he wasn’t sure how long they would need the room, but he thought maybe a couple of weeks.”
“Really.”
“They put a sizable hold on Evan’s credit card. He was planning a romantic stay with his girlfriend.” Serena
’s tone was ironic.
Jack told her about the bank statement and the check Corie had given him.
Serena frowned. “If he’s hiding money from his wife, maybe he was getting ready to leave her, even before all this.”
“The money can mean a lot of different things.”
“Know a lot of other reasons rich guys have bank accounts they keep secret from their wives?”
In the garage, two police cruisers were parked behind Evan’s shiny silver Mercedes, their lights circling.
Hotel security cameras had caught Evan and Vangie emerging from the elevator into the garage at 5:47. Corie’s 911 call had come in a little after five. Evan must have rushed straight here from the house. In the video, he had Vangie by the hand and was pulling her along.
“Why do you think he took Vangie? He that horny?” Serena sounded disgusted but one of the uniforms laughed.
“Maybe he’s babysitting his bail.” Jack watched the grainy footage where Vangie struggled to keep up in her high heels. “Show that again. Right there. Freeze that.”
“What do you see?” Serena asked.
“No jewelry. When I talked to her she was all decked out in long necklaces, earrings, rings—she doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who forgets to put on her bling.”
“Wherever they’re going, it’s a surprise to her.”
“Lot of surprises tonight.”
“You think Vangie’s in danger?” Serena asked.
Jack stared at the surveillance footage. “He’s out a quarter mil if she fails to appear in court. Even for Evan that’s a big chunk of change.”
Evan and Vangie were off camera when they got into their vehicle, but seconds later another camera picked up a black Cadillac Escalade exiting the garage. As the car pulled away there was a nice shot of the license plate.
“Let’s see whose car that is,” Jack said.
The officer who’d found Evan’s car typed the information into the console in his cruiser. “The car is registered to a Stuart Graber. No warrants. Here’s his address and phone number.”
Jack looked at Serena. “Well, well. Full-service lawyer, isn’t he?”
“Do you have a reservation?”
By way of answer, Jack flashed his badge at the tall, thin blonde in head-to-toe black behind the hostess desk at the fancy steakhouse.
Stu Graber was seated in a booth near the front, eating alone. He’d rolled the sleeves up on a rumpled, blue button-down shirt which was open at the throat revealing a patch of sparse, gray chest hair. His paunch draped over the waistband of charcoal gray dress slacks. His cheeks were ruddy in an unhealthy way, which suggested he could be on a poster warning about the dangers of hypertension. And he’d doused his filet in A1 sauce, which Jack considered a crime against humanity.
“How’s that steak, Stu? Cooked the way you like it?” Jack pulled out a chair and sat down.
Stu didn’t stop cutting his meat. He glanced up for the merest second, dismissing Jack with flat gray eyes before turning his attention back to his meal. Everything about the man seemed gray except for the unhealthy spots of color highlighting his flaccid cheeks. He forked a piece of steak into his mouth, chewed, and then picked up the glass of red wine to the right of his plate. “You’re wasting your time, Detective. I’m not at liberty to discuss anything concerning any of my clients.” Stu cut off another bite of steak and dragged the edge through a puddle of A1.
Jack picked up the bottle of steak sauce and grimaced. “Sure. I understand. And I hate to interrupt your dinner. But I’m curious why you loaned your car to an individual wanted for attempted murder. I know there’s probably a very good reason. Lot of sodium in that steak sauce, by the way.”
Stu kept his expression neutral and forced himself to take the next bite before he answered. “I don’t understand. Have the charges changed?”
“Which ones?” Jack set the bottle down.
“My client was charged and released on bond, which means they’re free to go wherever they please as long as they don’t leave the state.” Stu’s hand reached for the wine again.
“Which one?”
Stu blinked. His tongue worked a piece of gristle from between his teeth. “I assume you’re referencing Ms. Perez.”
“I didn’t say that. Who borrowed your car?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your concern.”
“It is when the individual is wanted for attempted murder.”
“Are we playing a game here, Detective? Ms. Perez was charged and released on bond. I can loan my vehicle to whomever I please. Now if we’re done, I’d like to finish my dinner in peace.”
Jack leaned back and watched him. “I’m talking about your other client who, at approximately five o’clock this evening, pushed his wife down a flight of stairs and tried to kill her. There’s a warrant issued for Evan Markham on counts of aggravated assault and attempted murder. Imagine our surprise when we located his vehicle and found he’d switched cars with you. Can you explain why you loaned your car to an individual fleeing a felony? I believe that is considered harboring a fugitive. But then my legal expertise isn’t as sophisticated as yours.”
There was a long pause. “It would be if I’d known he was wanted on criminal charges, which I didn’t. Still don’t. Unless that’s why you’re here. To inform me. Nice of you to bring counsel up to speed. Usually law enforcement’s not this collaborative.”
“No? Can’t imagine why when you’re such an agreeable guy. Want to be really agreeable and tell me where Evan’s going?”
Stu’s stomach rumbled ominously, belying his calm exterior. “I’m sorry I can’t be of any help, Detective.”
“Yeah, you look sad.” He looked like he was going to have a stroke. “And you’re being very helpful. Or rather your Cadillac is, as I’m sure you’re aware it’s equipped with OnStar. And luckily for us it’s brand new.” Since 2009, OnStar had provided the capability to cut engine power in cars if the police requested it.
Jack smiled. “When we determine you knew that Evan was wanted for an attempt on his wife’s life at the time you loaned him your car, we’ll be charging you. Enjoy your dinner.”
At the hostess stand on his way out, Jack asked to see a menu. While he waited for his takeout order, he thought about how they’d most likely find the Cadillac abandoned in a parking lot or empty field somewhere. If it was even still in one piece. Markham was smart, ruthless, and he knew his way around the law. Jack was concerned about Vangie, but his first priority was Corie.
Chapter 24
Corie sat cross-legged on the hospital bed with a psychology textbook open in front of her. One more chapter and she’d rest. But she kept reading:
The whole purpose of the endeavor is to communicate to the submissive that their body is not their own. Even basic bodily functions, such as bowel movements and orgasm, are under the control of the dominant.
Corie stared at the text written by a psychology professor at a major European university. The academic writer had gone to great lengths to avoid judgment. Some of us are neurologically wired to enjoy pain, endowed by nature with a higher tolerance. Out of our hands. Merely a choice—like red or white, what kind of dressing, for here or to go. BDSM was a subject of mass fascination, and it seemed, at least from her research, that the things Evan had done to her were only the tip of the sadomasochistic iceberg.
Maybe the memories would fade with time. No lasting harm. Maybe.
“Hey.”
Jack appeared as if she’d conjured him, a dour island of normalcy in the midst of her fucked-up life. Corie slammed the book closed.
“How are you feeling?”
“Not bad enough to be admitted to a hospital, although I must be in a weakened state because I’m not even mad at you.” She watched him set a plastic carrier bag on the table, along with his computer case. “What’s in the bag?”
“My last stop was at Del Friscos. I got some takeout.”
“Pretty high-end takeout. Did
Evan go out to eat? Did trying to kill me work up an appetite?” She slid the book under the covers.
“He wasn’t there. His lawyer was.”
“Stu? That figures. Evan’s lapdog. But why were you talking to Stu? I don’t understand.”
“I got something for you, too. You don’t have to eat if you don’t want. I just thought—”
“Are you kidding? I’m starving.”
“What were you reading?”
So much for thinking he hadn’t noticed. “Nothing. Some old psychology stuff from a class.”
“You in school right now?”
“No.” She changed the topic back to Evan. “So what happened? Did you find my husband?”
Jack unpacked the food—cheeseburgers and thin, crisp, shoestring potatoes—and he didn’t answer right away.
“Well?” Corie grabbed a handful of the fancy French fries. “Where is he?”
Jack shrugged. “No major developments.”
“I see.” She took a bite of her burger and closed her eyes. “Oh, yum.”
Jack looked pleased. “I’m glad you like it.”
“So are you going to tell me where Evan is or not?”
But Jack was guarded. He took off his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and took a bite of his own burger before he said anything. And then he digressed. “I wasn’t sure what you liked. Maybe you were a vegetarian now or something.”
“This is so good, I’m not even going to give you crap for holding out on me.”
“You need to rest and let me do my job.”
“I wasn’t aware I was impeding. But whatever. I like the shifts back and forth from warm concern to gloomy and withholding. Very unnerving.”
“I’ve already told you too much.” He tried to maintain his stern demeanor but she saw a smile play at the edges of his handsome features.
“Funny, I feel the same way about you.” He could never know. She remembered her earlier resolve to tell him about the rape. Alleged rape. Her eyes flicked down to where she'd hidden the book and she suddenly felt sick. Corie set down her burger.
“You can’t be finished already.”
She couldn’t sit here and wait, passive, a quarry. “I wish there was something I could do to help.”