“Wow. That’s a lot of money for an old camp with an outhouse. “ Pete took a drink of his coffee, grimaced, poured more hot into it. “Heater?”
“No, I’m good. Apparently it comes with a fair bit of land and it’s on a lake.” She shrugged. “I guess they just fell in love with the place.”
A streetlight outside their kitchen window went out. She heard the gunning of a motor from the kid next door who worked at McDonalds. It was morning. She yawned.
“You need to get some sleep.”
“Yeah. You too.”
“I’m fine. I’m going to take a shower. You go back to bed. I’ll see what I can find out. Might give Abby’s lawyer a call too. What’s his name again?”
“Dave Meltzer. He got her the settlement from the trucking company. She didn’t give a damn about the money. She just wanted someone to pay for taking Corey’s and Ellie’s lives. But all the money in the world won’t pay for that.”
“We’ll find her, honey,” Pete said. “Don’t give up hope.”
“Not much chance of that.”
Karen tried to picture Abby in her mind’s eye, tried to mentally hone in on where she might be in the world.
It was best she was not successful in that.
Chapter 14
Abby sat in the hard-backed chair, bound hand and foot to the rungs. Her jaw throbbed where the beast had struck her. The blow had driven her tooth into the flesh of her lower lip, and she could taste the warm, salty blood. She gingerly ran her tongue over her swollen split lip.
Her hands were tied behind her, her wrist bones pressing hard against the chair’s wooden spindles. The rope chafed her wrists. Halfway through tying her up, the Roach had made the one they called Dog redo the whole thing because it wasn’t tight enough. But at least she was still alive. If Ken Roach had not interceded when the beast came at her, she would be dead by now. Not because the man had a sliver of conscience, but because he was planning to cash in on her. It was the only reason she was still alive. While the one called Tattoo was a hulking, mindless vessel of evil, driven by rage, Ken Roach was evil in his own way.
He was presently turning her purse upside down, dumping the contents on the counter, scattering loose change, lipstick, two house keys on a leather key ring, makeup, her pills and other items over its surface. She used to carry her keys all on one ring until her mechanic said it was too heavy and she could mess up the ignition. He slid her ATM card out of her wallet, which held other cards as well, along with her driver’s license, and set it aside. Glancing at her name on the bottle of pills, he dropped it back in her bag. He rifled through a few of her snapshots, began to move about the room, holding them in his hands, studying each photo in turn. He moved like a well-oiled cat, easy in his skin - thinking, watchful, the kind of man who was always on the hunt for an advantage.
He held one of the snapshots up. “Karen and Pete, it says on the back.”
“Friends,” she blurted. “Old friends.” She had snatched at the first lie that came to her, ignoring the pulsing pain in her jaw which was worse when she talked. More blood leaked from the cut lip. “They’re in South Korea. They teach English as a second language.”
He smiled at her. “We’ll need a disposable phone,” he said to Dog. Then he held up another photo for her to identify - the one the perky waitress had taken of the three of them at the Paradise Restaurant where she and Corey had taken Ellie for her ninth birthday.
“Your old man, eh? He oughta pay something to get you back.”
“He would have. But he’s dead. They were both killed in a car accident.” She wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not with them.
He said nothing. He showed nothing. But she got the strangest feeling he wasn’t surprised at the news.
“Well, you’re worth something, right, Tat. We’ve got this ATM card.”
Tattoo took another swallow from the bottle of whiskey he had claimed for himself. He’d taken up a position on the floor by the fireplace, knees drawn up, eyes fixed on Abby from beneath those heavy black brows. Abby wondered how long Roach could keep him away from her. If it came down to a fight, she didn’t have to guess who would win. It would be a no contest. And to the victor goes the spoils. The very thought of that animal touching her made her skin crawl, and filled her with terror. A terror she dare not let take root. If she did, she wouldn’t be able to think at all. And it would be over. It was important to keep her wits about her.
Ken Roach thought she was rich because she wrote novels. It was a general myth. While it was true a few like Stephen King or James Patterson were made wealthy from their writing, most writers made less than minimum wage. And many held down a day job. Thankfully, she was able to write full time now and had her fair share of loyal readers, though it wasn’t always the case. The majority of her bank balance, however, wasn’t from the books at all, but from the settlement from the accident. She didn’t voice any of that, of course. Anything that could keep that brute away from her, she was fine with.
“I can’t take more than a few hundred out of the ATM at a time,” she told him. She didn’t care about the money. “We can go to my bank in Langston and I’ll draw out whatever you need. Then you can let me go.” Even as she spoke, she knew she was dreaming. That wasn’t going to happen.
He gave her that self-satisfied, oily grin. “No, don’t think so. Good try though.”
Why hadn’t she escaped when she had the chance? The minute Ken Roach had walked away from her cabin, she should have gotten back in her car and driven back the way she’d come. But she’d been drowning in her own misery and her survival instincts had dulled over the months. They had sent up a warning, though. She simply hadn’t been paying attention. And now no one knew where she was. She wouldn’t even be considered missing.
“She’s not leaving here,” Tattoo said. “Not until I have a little fun with her. Then she can go into her bank and get the money, and we’ll each take our cut like you said. But not until...”
“She can’t go into the bank looking like she was beat up,” Roach cut in. “You already put that bruise on her jaw, split her lip. You think they won’t notice that? Anyway, too many opportunities for something to go wrong. The ATM will do fine.”
Even then, he thought, she’ll have to keep her head down. He’d considered taking her debit card and drawing the money out himself, but didn’t like the idea of showing up on the bank’s security camera. He’d just have to handle her; he didn’t think it would be a big problem. He had an ace in the hole. She just didn’t know it yet.
Tattoo stood up and moved away from the wall. His whole demeanor was threatening. “Who fuckin’ died and made you boss?” His huge hands were clenched into fists bigger than ham hocks, black, coarse hair sprouting from his knuckles and wrists. He probably doesn’t have to bend down to tie his shoelaces, Abby thought.
Roach put up a hand like a traffic cop. “No one,” he said. “Take it easy. But I did find this cabin, after all. I did find her, and she’s got enough money to float us for a while. You’re tired, Tat. We all are. We’ll think better with a little sleep. I’ll take the first shift.”
“I have to go to the bathroom,” Abby said from her chair.
The Roach looked at her.
“It’s out back,” she said.
He was silent for a few seconds. Then, “You go with her, Dog.”
She was glad it was Dog who was going to accompany her. He seemed the least dangerous of the three. Maybe she could talk him into letting her go. “There’s a flashlight in the drawer,” she told him.
“You try anything and Dog will break it over your head. Got that?”
“I got it.”
“You watch her close, Dog. If she gives you any trouble...”
“I won’t let her get away.”
“She damn well better not. Or it’s your ass.” To Abby, he said, “If you’re good you can remain untied. You can make yourself useful and cook us up some eggs or something. You got eggs?”
“No
. I’ve got a couple of cans of tuna. Some whole wheat bread.”
He nodded. “Better than nothing. Make it fast.”
Before the door closed behind them, some of the tension in the room had dissipated. A momentary calm? Personally, she would have preferred they annihilate each other. The problem was, as she had already deduced, they wouldn’t, and she’d be left with the beast. For now Ken Roach was keeping a lid on things. Strange how people could be so different beneath the mask they wore. Ken Roach wasn’t a bad looking man. In fact, he reminded her of someone. She couldn’t think who. Some movie star, likely. But beneath the laid back demeanor, there was a darkness. What happened to people in their lives that turned them into such monsters?
The clouds had cleared away and the sky was bright with stars, a still night, the air perfumed with growing things. Lilacs, pine. It was nice to be outside. The cabin was no longer a place of refuge or comfort. It was a different cabin now, stained with ugliness.
Dog didn’t really need the flashlight, but he kept it turned on anyway, the pool of light playing over the ground in front of her as they trudged along. The ground was muddy, but her sneakers were already soaked through so it didn’t much matter.
It would be nice out tomorrow. Would she still be here?
“Thank you for coming with me,” she said.
“S’okay. Ya hafta hurry.”
“You call him Ken, yet he calls you Dog. Doesn’t that bother you? Seems disrespectful to me.”
He had a child-like quality about him, and obviously some mental challenge. It was that awkwardness, that insecurity, that made him an easy target for guys like Ken Roach. He looked up to Roach, followed him about, living up to the name they’d given him. Roach would use him then throw him away when that usefulness came to an end. Just as he would her.
“What’s your real name?” The question had just left her mouth when she tripped over something, and he put out a hand to steady her. He had a gentle, protective touch. “Thanks. I nearly fell.”
“You’re okay now. Donnie. My name’s Donnie. Donnie Leaman.”
“Donnie,” she repeated. “I like that. May I call you Donnie?”
“Sure. If you want.”
They’d reached the outhouse. It was old and rickety. A moon and star were carved into the door to take in light. Thankfully, no foul odor emanated from within. No one had been here for quite a long time.
“Why were you in prison, Donnie? I mean — you don’t have to tell me if you don’t...”
“No. It’s okay. I used to shoplift and I was good at it too. But then I robbed a store with another kid. I wouldn’t have got caught if I’d stayed on my own. He was older than me. Nineteen. I was sixteen. He stuck a knife in the owner. The man died.”
“How awful. Awful for you, too. What were your friends in for?”
“Tattoo’s not really my friend. I don’t like him much. Everyone said he did some awful things to a couple of young girls — before he killed them. Please don’t tell him I...”
“No, no, Donnie. Of course not. I won’t say a word. I hope you and I can be friends too.”
He shrugged. “I guess. I don’t think Ken would like it, though.”
“We won’t tell him. Ken Roach. What was he in for?”
“I’m not sure. I heard he stole a lot of money from some old woman. He’s some kind of scammer, I guess. But he’s nice to me. Mostly. You have to hurry.”
“Let’s just enjoy the fresh air for a minute. You’re not like them, are you. You’re not mean like them.”
He was silent. Then he said with an air of fake aggression, “I’m not stupid, you know. Don’t try nothing funny. You heard what Ken said. And I don’t want to hurt you. But I will if you try to get away.”
She didn’t think so. But then you never knew for sure, and she wasn’t willing to bet on it. The Roach had him on a tight rein. But she could also tell that he wanted to believe what she’d said about him. That he wasn’t mean or cruel, that he was a good person. He knew his friends well enough. Knew what they were capable of. He was just trying to survive like she was.
“I know, Donnie. I know you don’t want to hurt me. Don’t worry. I won’t try to run. My name’s Abby, by the way.”
“I know. I heard Ken call you that.”
“Yeah, I guess you did. Can you shine that flashlight in there for me, please? Sometimes spiders and snakes crawl into those dark, damp places and they can get on you, in your hair. Just garter or green-necked snakes around here, usually. They’re not poisonous but creepy just the same.” She thought of the snake tattoo that slithered up the side of the beast’s face.
“I’m afraid of snakes,” she said.
~*~
The pale light of day was filtering through the thin drapes when they heard the sirens. Ken Roach practically flew off the sofa where he’d spent the night; she never once saw him close his eyes, though he may have. They’d tied her to the chair again. Despite that, she had managed to doze off for brief periods of time. The Roach was on his feet running a hand through his thick dark hair that was starting to look as lank and greasy as Dog’s — Donnie’s, she corrected herself.
“Damn, they must have found the freakin’ truck. Dog, you were supposed to drive it out of sight.”
“I did,” he protested in a child’s frightened voice. “I even stood back and checked and I couldn’t see it no more.”
The sirens wailed on. Tattoo staggered to his feet from a whiskey-dead sleep. He’d slept with his back against the wall, beside the fireplace. No one had chosen to sleep in a real bed, despite there being two of them. They wanted to keep watch on each other. And her.
“Wha...what’s going on?” Tattoo growled.
“The cops found the truck,” the Roach said, forcing his voice calm, the wheels clearly going round in his head. Spinning. Trying to come up with a way out of his dilemma. Abby could almost hear the din in his mind. Another unexpected change of plans.
Abby felt cramped and miserable and she had to pee. But the sound of the sirens gave her hope.
Tattoo turned his fury on Roach. “You were the asshole who said they wouldn’t be found for days.” He stomped across the floor and peered out the window. “You were right about one thing though. Those woods will be crawling with pigs. We’ve got to get the hell out of here.” Then he grumbled, mainly to himself, “Waste of time trying to wash away evidence we’d been in that farmhouse.”
“They still don’t know it was us,” Ken Roach said. But he didn’t sound reassured.
The room was a brew of fear and anger, so strong Abby could smell it. The stink of male aggression, most of it coming from the beast. The Roach’s face had gone a couple of shades paler.
“We’re good, Tattoo,” he said, trying to sound like he had it all together, but he couldn’t control the look of nervousness on his face, or his compulsion to pace. “But you’re right. Good idea to make ourselves scarce. Still, no need to start coming apart at the seams. We’ll take her car. She can drive.”
Tattoo turned from the window. “Good. Then let’s go. What are we waiting for?”
“If we’re going anywhere, I need to get out of these wet shoes and socks,” Abby said. She had remembered seeing a pair of Corey’s old sneakers in the closet. Please, please find me, she prayed. Help was so close, yet so far.
“Do it, then,” Roach snapped without looking at her. “Listen, Tat, we’re okay. We’ve got time. Let’s keep it together now. Okay?” He’d managed to take his nerves down a notch. “We just need to put some miles between us and the cops. There’s another road out of here.”
“I have to go to the bathroom, too,” Abby said.
He heaved an exasperated sigh. “Untie her Dog. And watch her. You let her get away and...”
“I won’t.”
There was a steely glint in Donnie’s eyes that she hadn’t seen before, and she knew he would follow orders.
While Abby and Dog were out of the cabin, and Tattoo was peering out the
window, scanning for cops, Ken Roach went into the kitchen, walked straight to the second drawer beneath the countertop to retrieve the passport and other documents he knew his father’s old friend, Jake Lenihan had hidden there. Feeling the Manila envelope taped on the underside of the drawer, he freed it, folded it loosely and slipped it into his inside jacket pocket, smiling to himself.
Early on, after his father died he’d hoped Jake might want him to come and live with him in the cabin, especially in the year his father’s girlfriend had brought that jerk home and he decided to use him for a punching bag, but the invitation never came. He understood. Jake was a loner, with no desire to take on any extra baggage, like a kid. But he’d been okay to him, and he’d done him a major good deed before he died. Right here. He patted his pocket and went back into the living room.
Chapter 15
Blinded by tears, Sally Nichols ran stumbling over brush and rocks toward the truck, arms flailing, screaming, no, no, and Detective Al Redding headed her off, catching her in his arms. She fought him like a wildcat but he held her tight. “I’m sorry, Sally. I’m so sorry,” he said, fighting tears himself. “But you don’t need to see your mom and dad like this. And they wouldn’t want it.”
They were not Hartley and Ethel anymore, only what was left of them. When they’d looked in the back of the truck, the stench of decay had rushed up at them, almost knocking them back. Al didn’t want her to get close enough to smell it. The final betrayal of the human body in all its ripeness. She didn’t need that.
Sally stopped fighting him, collapsing in his arms, her shoulders shaking with harsh sobs. “Who would do this?” she cried into his chest. “They were the kindest people in the world. Who would want to hurt them?” The last word trailed off and she went limp in Al’s arms. She had passed out.
The Deepest Dark Page 7