by John Rector
“I didn’t know,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
Abby shrugged. “It’s been a long time.”
“You must’ve been young.”
“I’ve never been that young.” She set her glass on the coffee table, then adjusted herself on the couch, tucking one leg under her. “Did someone tell you that Patricia was my mother?”
“No, I just—”
“God, I can’t imagine.” She laughed. “What a nightmare—for both of us.”
“I take it you two don’t get along.”
Abby’s eyes narrowed. “You came here to tell me that she hired you to kill me.”
“Right.” I held up a hand, waving away the question. “I’m a little mixed up. Part of me was expecting you to think I was crazy, but you don’t seem shocked at all.”
“I hide it well,” she said. “Truth is, I’m terrified. That woman is insane.”
“But you’re not surprised?”
“No, not surprised.” Abby leaned over, picked up her glass, and took a drink. “Patricia has hated me since the first time I spoke to Daniel. The only thing that surprises me about any of this is that she waited this long.”
She looked down at her glass, spun the ice.
“After the paternity test came back showing that I was his daughter, she hated me even more.” Abby looked up at me and tried to smile. “Funny, isn’t it? I’ve never done anything to that woman except exist.”
“There was a paternity test?”
“Patricia insisted on one,” she said. “I agreed to it, of course. Daniel wanted it, too. He’s a sweet man, but he’s not an idiot. When you’re worth that kind of money, you don’t just open your arms and your checkbook to every stray kid that steps in off the street claiming to be yours.”
“But you are his daughter?”
“No doubt about it.”
I eased back on the couch, laughed under my breath. “Were your mother and Daniel married, or did they—?”
“Married?” Abby shook her head. “God, no. My mother was a waitress. She met him in between wives.”
“How long were they together?”
“I don’t know all the details,” she said. “She didn’t talk much about him. I think it went on for a while, and eventually it just faded out.”
“Did you see him when you were growing up?”
“Never.”
I heard a clock chime in one of the other rooms. I turned and looked out the bay window. The sun was starting to go down, and the shadows along the street were long and fading.
“It’s getting dark.”
Abby turned toward the window, but I could tell she wasn’t really seeing.
“I used to think about him when I was a kid,” she said. “I’d wonder where he was and if he ever thought about me. I never did find out.”
“Your mother didn’t stay in contact with him?”
She shook her head. “I decided to track him down after she died. All I had to go on was an old photo and a faded business card. It wasn’t much, but it was a trail I could follow. When I finally found him and told him who I was, he was a little surprised.”
“I bet.”
“I was worried that he’d be angry, but he wasn’t. The first time he saw me, he squeezed me so tight I could barely breathe. It was wonderful.” Abby stopped talking, ran her fingertips under her eyes. “Such a sweet man.”
“Makes you wonder why he married Patricia.”
“Patricia wasn’t his first wife,” Abby said. “That one drowned off the coast of Martha’s Vineyard forty years ago. Patricia came into the picture after Daniel’s split with my mother. They don’t get along. I’m not sure they ever did.”
“And then you showed up.”
“It was bad before me,” Abby said. “And the last few years have been a nightmare. If she hadn’t been so horrible to him, he might not have had this stroke.”
“That’s terrible.”
“She’s terrible,” Abby said. “She has two kids from a previous marriage, and she thought marrying Daniel would set them up for life. Then I came around, and all of that fell apart for her.”
I listened, letting the pieces fall into place.
Before, I couldn’t imagine why Patricia would want Abigail dead. Now, after hearing her story, it all started to make sense.
“I think the will was the last straw for her,” Abby said. “He told her he’d provide for her and her kids but that he was leaving the bulk of his estate to me, and that I would be his primary beneficiary.”
“That had to have been hard to hear.”
“She had everything figured out, but thanks to me it’s all gone.” Abigail paused. “The money doesn’t even mean much to me. It sounds dumb, but I’d rather have him.”
I thought about that for a moment, then said, “What would happen if you die before he does?”
Abby tried to smile. “I guess that would change things, wouldn’t it?”
Neither of us said anything, and for a long time we sat quietly on the couch as the sun went down and the air outside turned from gold to blue. Things were coming into focus, but the more I learned, the more I realized that there was nothing I could do to help her.
Abby turned to me. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“How much did she offer to pay you?”
“There was twenty grand in the envelope,” I said. “She told me it was half and that I’d get the rest once you were gone.”
“Forty thousand dollars?” Her eyes went wide. “That’s a lot of money.”
“Yes, it is.”
Abby leaned back on the couch, sinking deeper into the cushions, and laughed. “I guess I should feel flattered.”
I looked over at her, didn’t speak.
Eventually, she stopped laughing and began to cry.
11
I opened the door and walked out onto the porch. The street was dark and quiet, and the moon hung low and bright over the trees. Abby followed me, stopping just outside the door, and leaned against the house.
“Listen,” I said. “If you want to go to the police, I’ll go with you.”
“They’ll never believe us.” Abby tried to smile. “I barely believe any of this myself.”
“We’ve got the money. That’ll at least get their attention.”
“We still don’t have enough proof.” She stopped talking and looked up at me, her eyes wet from tears. “Part of me is happy that you got her money. It serves her right.”
I thought that was an odd thing to say, but I didn’t press. Instead, I stood there until the silence turned uncomfortable, then asked, “What are you going to do?”
Abby looked down at her feet, shook her head. “Move, I guess. Find someplace they’ll never look for me and start over.” She glanced up at me. “Ever been to Nebraska?”
“I’m not even sure I could find it on a map.”
Abby smiled, but there was no humor in it.
“Sounds perfect.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the street, then turned back to her. “Is there anything I can do?”
“You can take me with you to Mexico,” she said. “I’m little. I won’t take up much space.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, and when I opened my mouth to speak I stumbled over my words.
Abby laughed and held up her hand, stopping me. “I’m kidding,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”
I took my wallet out of my pocket. “Here, let me—”
“I don’t need money, Nick.”
“It’s a phone number, just in case.”
“A phone number?”
“My father,” I said. “He used to be a cop. He might be able to help if something happens.”
I dug through my wallet, but then Abby stepped forward an
d put her hand over mine.
“Thank you,” she said. “But I’ll be okay.”
“Are you sure?”
Abby looked up at me and frowned. “Why are you doing all of this? Why did you come here tonight?”
“I felt like I owed it to you.”
“You don’t even know me.”
I shrugged. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”
She stared at me, and I could see the amusement behind her eyes. “Most people wouldn’t see it that way.” She paused. “You’re an interesting man, Nick.”
Before I left, Abby leaned in and gave me a hug and told me to be safe. And as I walked down the path toward the street, I thought about what she’d said.
You’re an interesting man, Nick.
I didn’t see it.
Halfway to the car, the wind picked up and the leaves in the trees rattled around me like a chorus of insects. I turned and looked back toward Abby’s house, but I’d gone too far, and all I saw was the golden glow of the streetlights lining an empty road.
Something wasn’t right.
Part of me had hoped I’d feel relieved after talking to her. I thought it would be like a weight lifted, making the decision to keep the money and leave town that much easier to stomach. Instead, it felt like a mistake. All I’d done was deliver bad news to a scared young woman. I showed her that the family she’d hoped to find after her mother died hated her and wanted her dead.
I showed her that she was alone.
I thought about her situation as I walked the rest of the way to the car, and I had to remind myself that while Abigail Pierce was young, she wasn’t a child, and she could take care of herself. She’d already survived the death of one parent and had managed to track down her birth father on her own.
She was tougher than she looked, and that gave me hope.
When I got to the car, I took the keys from my pocket and unlocked the door. I was about to get in when I noticed a man standing alone, halfway down the street, hidden in the shadows between the streetlights, watching me.
I stood there, staring at him, but he didn’t move.
I told myself I was being jumpy and that he was probably just a neighbor out for a walk, nothing more. I almost believed it, too, but then the man raised a hand to his mouth and a dull red glow lit his face.
His eyes were focused on me.
The urge to get in the car and drive away was strong, but I pushed it back. I took the key and walked around to the back of the car. Then I opened the trunk and dug around until I found the tire iron.
I’d never used a weapon on anyone in my life, and I didn’t know what I planned on doing with one now. All I knew was that I liked the feel of it in my hand, and if the man standing on the street was out there for me, I wanted to face him with more than words.
I closed the trunk and walked out into the street, but when I looked at the spot where the man had been standing, he was gone.
I stood there, scanning the shadows, and tried to ignore the growing feeling that I was being watched.
This time when the urge to leave hit, I went back to the driver’s side of the car and climbed in. As I started to pull away from the curb, something in the rearview mirror caught my eye.
There was a black SUV parked half a block away.
I turned in my seat and looked out the back window, squinting against the darkness. I tried to believe that it was a coincidence. I even told myself that there were hundreds of black SUVs on the road and that this wasn’t the same one that had followed me that afternoon.
I wanted to believe it, but I didn’t.
I felt the tension build in my chest, and I squeezed the steering wheel tight. I knew if I ran they’d follow me, and this time they might even catch me. But as I sat there, listening to the low rumble of the engine, I couldn’t help but like my chances.
I was about to drive away when another thought struck me, knocking all the air out of my lungs.
They’re not here for me.
It took a moment for this to sink in, but once it did, I knew it was true. Of course they weren’t here for me. They wanted Abby. And I’d led them right to her.
A low ache started in my chest, and I realized I was holding my breath. I let it out slow, then looked down at the tire iron on the passenger seat.
Maybe it wasn’t too late.
I grabbed the tire iron and got out. The SUV was dark, and I couldn’t tell if anyone was inside or not.
I ran back to Abby’s house. I thought if I hurried I could get her out and take her someplace safe. I didn’t know where, but that didn’t matter as long as it was away from here.
When I got to her house, I ran up the path to the porch. The lights were still on inside, but the blinds were closed. I reached out to knock, but before I could the door opened.
The man standing in the doorway was wearing the same blue shirt I’d seen him in the day before. Everything about him looked the same, except this time he was holding a gun, and it was pointed at my stomach.
“Hello, Nick.”
I looked past him and saw Abby in the hallway. There was another man with her. He had one hand over her mouth and was pinning her arms behind her with the other.
Abby’s eyes were wide and terrified.
“Come in,” the man in the doorway said. “Let’s talk.”
I heard something move behind me, and I turned around.
The man I’d seen on the street was coming up the path toward the house. When he got to the porch, he took his cigarette from his mouth and flicked it into the grass, then reached down and took the tire iron from my hand.
I turned back to the man in the blue shirt. “You don’t have to do this.”
The man smiled at me, and a single gold tooth winked under the porch light.
He didn’t say a word.
12
The man in the blue shirt motioned me inside.
“My name is Victor. The man behind you is my brother, David.” He thumbed back over his shoulder. “The gentleman behind me is Mr. Ellis.”
“What do you want?”
“We’ll get to that,” he said. “Right now I need you to put your hands behind your back.”
Next to me, David took a plastic zip tie from his pocket and formed it into a loop.
I stepped to the side. “Wait a minute, I—”
“Nick?” Victor still had the gun aimed at my stomach, and his voice was slow and calm. “I’d very much like for this conversation to be a friendly one, but that’s up to you. It certainly doesn’t have to be.”
I could feel myself start to panic, and his words barely made it through the buzz in my head. All I knew was that I couldn’t let them tie my hands. I couldn’t lose control.
David moved closer, reached for my wrists.
“Wait.” I pulled away. “I can give the money back. There’s no reason—”
“We’ll talk about that,” Victor said. “But first I need you to—”
“No.” I backed up, and the adrenaline buzzed through me. “I’m not going to let you—”
David stepped in behind me.
I felt his hand on my shoulder, and as I pulled away there was a violent pain at the base of my spine. I heard a rapid popping sound that seemed to hang in the air, and then all the strength ran out of my legs. I dropped to my knees and hit the floor facedown, my muscles twitching.
I heard Abby scream, but the sound was far off and muted. David knelt down and pressed his knee into the back of my neck and pulled up on my arms. He fastened the zip tie around my wrists, and the plastic dug into my skin. When he finished, he grabbed my shoulder and rolled me over onto my back. Victor slipped the gun into the back of his belt, then knelt down next to me. They each took an arm and lifted me to my feet.
The air had a peppery, burnt-hair smell that settled i
n the back of my throat and made it hard to breathe. I swallowed hard and fought the urge to be sick.
Victor and David moved me to the couch and helped me sit. I leaned forward and closed my eyes and waited for the spinning to stop and the world to refocus.
Victor was saying something to David that I couldn’t hear. When he finished, David nodded and walked out of the living room. He returned a minute later with a black kitchen chair and set it across from me.
Victor took the gun from his belt and sat on the chair. He studied me for a moment, then said, “How are you feeling?”
I didn’t say anything.
“I do apologize for this.” He motioned to my hands with the gun. “The thing is, I can get a little jittery. It’s better for us all if I don’t have to worry about you acting like a hero in front of the young lady.”
I looked past him toward Abby. The man holding her still had her arms pinned behind her back and a hand over her mouth. She wasn’t struggling anymore, but none of the fear had left her eyes.
“I never wanted the money,” I said. “That woman gave it to me by mistake.”
“It would appear that way,” he said. “But that isn’t important anymore. All that matters now is that you return what you took.”
“Let her go first.”
“This isn’t a negotiation.”
“It is if you want that money.”
Victor looked down at the gun in his hand, then leaned in close, whispered, “I don’t believe you fully understand the situation here. Don’t make me clarify.”
I stopped talking.
“Where is the envelope, Nick?”
Victor’s voice was cold, and I knew I was taking a risk by not telling him what he wanted to know, but I also knew I didn’t have a choice. If I gave in, he’d kill us both, but as long as I had something he needed I had a card to play.
I looked up at Victor and tried to keep my voice from shaking. “Not until you let her go.”
Victor sighed. “Unfortunate.”
“Let her go, and I’ll tell you where the money is,” I said. “It’s all still there.”
Victor stood up, ignoring me, and grabbed the chair. He carried it across the room and set it against the wall by the painting, then he slipped his gun into the back of his belt and turned to face me, silent.