He didn’t blink an eye. Instead he looked down at the folder again, closed it. Then said, “I think we can manage that.”
~*~
A half hour later Karen walked out of the bank with the money in a gym bag, leaving Pete behind to seal the deal. “Wait in the car for me, Karen,” he had called after her. She lied and said she would. She had also lied when he asked her where they were supposed to meet this man who had Abby. “He said he’d call me back and give us directions,” she told him. She didn’t like holding out on Pete, but she couldn’t risk him knowing, and telling the police. He would just have to forgive her. She had no intention of taking any chances with Abby’s life. One of them might be watching her every move right now for all she knew.
Her hand clutching the plastic handle of the gym bag was sweaty. Her heart beat in her throat as if it were a tiny bird trapped there. Breathe, Karen. Breathe. And then she was on the other side of the glass door, breathing in the fresh air, heading for her car.
It had been almost too easy. She expected to feel a tap on her shoulder and it would be someone demanding the money back, telling her the mortgage had been a mistake. She had anticipated a lot of begging on her part, but it hadn’t been necessary, which surprised her. But then why should it? She was a good customer, wasn’t she? Her credit was A-1. The bank made a profit off the Rawlings. She glanced around her, anticipating suspicious glances directed her way, but no one was looking at her.
She visualized herself as others might see her — a woman in slacks and a navy nylon jacket with the fitness center’s logo and carrying a gym bag. A few pounds overweight, just on her way to work out. Nothing special or extraordinary about her. Did she look nervous? Very unusual that the bank would hand out that much cash, Karen, and so quick, a small skeptical voice said. She wasn’t listening. You’ve got the money and that’s all that matters. Don’t question it.
The man on the phone gave her until 1:00 p.m. to show up with the money. There was no phone number at which he could be reached. She glanced at her watch. 11:12 a.m. She should be fine. Don’t want to get a speeding ticket though, nothing to draw attention to herself. Don’t want an accident either.
They would make an even trade, he said. Abby for the cash. She was to drop the bag into an orange waste bin at the back end of Erinville Mall, near the train tracks. He had told her if she called the cops or told anyone, she would never see her sister again, except in pieces that would come to her in the mail. He sounded almost friendly on the phone when he said it. Reasonable. And she believed every word he said. If she messed up, Abby was dead. We’ll be watching you, he had told her.
Karen wished Pete could be here with her, but of course he couldn’t be. She was on her own.
Just drop the bag in the orange waste bin. A simple enough plan. Everything was going to be fine, she told herself. Please. Please let that be true.
Karen took no notice of the unmarked tan sedan in the parking lot as she slid into the driver’s seat and set the bag on the floor. She started the car, remembered to buckle herself in, then backed out of her parking spot. She had knots in her stomach as she attempted to exit the parking lot. Her right front tire jumped the curb and the back tire spun in space. A passing car out on the road had to veer away from her to avoid a smash-up. The guy in the passenger seat waved his fist at her and yelled something she couldn’t hear, but could imagine. Damn! I’m messing up already.
In her side mirror, she caught sight of a man walking toward her car. He was burly, thick-necked, an older man with a pleasant expression. He moved with an easy gait, despite his build. She gunned the motor. No time for chatting. Tires spun. No chance she was going anywhere. Shit. As he approached her car, she rolled the window down, resigned.
“That’s a nasty curb,” he said, smiling in at her. She detected a slight Irish accent. “Are you all right, Ma’am?”
“Fine. But I’m in a hurry.”
“Well, you’ll get where you’re going a lot faster if you just take it easy. Okay, put ‘er in reverse. Try to back the car up a little then steer away from the curb. Easy on the gas. Take it cool.”
“Okay, right. Thanks.”
Karen followed his instructions. The car gave a little thump and rolled smoothly back on the pavement, and seconds later she was merging with the flow of traffic. She waved her thanks. The guy looked like a cop. No, she was being paranoid. Glancing in her rear view mirror and seeing him sauntering back to his car, she talked herself down. The gas tank was full and she had the money. Now it was just a matter of carrying out her part of the bargain without anymore incidents. Everything would be fine. She’d feel a whole lot better when Abby was sitting beside her and they were on their way home.
~*~
The three officers waited in the unmarked car until the Toyota Prius was out of sight. Then Detective Joseph O’Malley turned the key in the ignition and the motor roared to life. A younger cop named Phil Hanson sat next to him, frowning down at his GPS tracker. Charley Fitch was in the back seat.
Adrenalin had shot through O’Malley when he saw Karen Rawling’s silver Toyota pulling into the lot. Just as Al predicted. She’d got the call and was taking care of business on her own, sans the police department. Not gonna happen.
She came out of the bank carrying a gym bag. Looked like a woman headed for the gym after running a few errands.
Officer Phil Hanson was still looking down at the tracker in his lap. “Damn, this is weird.”
“What is?” O’Malley asked, thinking the guy didn’t look old enough to have graduated high school. But he was a quick learner.
“According to this thing, she hasn’t moved from the...”
“What are you talking about, Hanson?” He’d begun to pull out of the parking lot.
“Oh, oh, is that what I think it is?” Charley Fitch said, leaning over the back seat.
And then O’Malley saw it too — a small, black device. The GPS bug that he’d planted on the undercarriage of the car, just lay there on the pavement by the exit next to the curb. A ripple of panic swept through him. “Oh, man. Hell. It must have dislodged when she hit that curb.”
O’Malley stopped the car and Hanson leapt out, dashed across the lot and pocketed the useless gadget, returned to the car. “Buckle up,” O’Malley said. “We can’t lose her.”
A call came through from Detective Al Redding. “They’ve definitely been holed up at the Starlight. Just like in Goldilocks, one of the three bears laid down in the bed, and he’s still there. Your body belongs to one James William Ellison. Throat cut. Found a couple of handfuls of hair in the waste basket, which I’m assuming belongs to Abby Miller. With Donnie Leaman dead, that just leaves Roach. I’d bet my retirement pension she’s with him.”
O’Malley gave the sedan more gas. “The sister showed up at the bank just like you figured. We’re on her tail.”
Officer Phil Hanson wound the passenger window down and slapped the dome light onto the sedan’s roof.
“Fasten your seat belts, folks, O’Malley said as the car shot forward, weaving in and out of traffic, sirens wailing.
They’d been hitting it for about five minutes, going full out, when O’Malley spotted the silver car in the distance just rounding a curve in the road. “There. There she is,” he said. She was moving at a good clip, too.
When they got near enough to see the numbers on her license plates, Officer Hanson gave a short blat on the siren. That usually did it. But instead of stopping, she picked up speed.
“She’s not going to stop,” Charley said, leaning over the front seat, eyes riveted on the silver Prius.
They were in a race. O’Malley gave the car more gas until the damn thing began to shudder. It had been needing a trip to the garage for a while now. He’d put it off. Too late now.
Chapter 31
The man and woman sat very quietly in the car, saying nothing. The radio was turned off. They were parked in a vacant lot down near the tracks, behind an old grey warehouse with tw
o stories of small dirty windows, some smashed out, the sun glittering off the shards that were left in their frames. If Karen did show up, she wouldn’t be able to see them, while they could see her or anyone else headed in this direction through a couple of lower windows in the abandoned building.
Just a short distance in front of them, two rusting shopping carts lay overturned in a puddle that was almost a pond, like wounded animals that had flopped over and died. A couple of seagulls were scavenging something to eat among the debris. The car window was cracked open and Abby could hear their squawks and squeals. In the far distance, the plaintive sound of a train whistle sounded, infecting her with a deep sense of loneliness that went far beyond her present situation.
She drew in a large breath, looked at the clock on the dash for the hundredth time. 1:15 p.m. She’s not coming. Karen’s not coming. She wanted to feel good about that, but at the same time a part of her hoped she’d somehow managed to get the money, and that made her feel ashamed. There would be no reason for him to hurt Karen, would there? She was no threat to him. It was different with her. She could easily foil his plans.
“You know, Abby,” he said, “I really would love to have met my brother. Okay, my half-brother, if you want to get technical.”
She turned to look at him but he didn’t meet her eyes. They were the first words he had spoken in over an hour. He was still watching through one of the smeared windows in the warehouse for a sight of the car. The note of sadness in his voice surprised her. She wanted to say she wished Corey had met him too, but it would have been a lie. Maybe when they were both still kids. “I wish he’d gotten your letter,” she said. She wasn’t sure about that either, considering the dynamics of the family back then. Not that any of that mattered now.
“What happened? Oh, I know it was a head-on. That they were on their way home from Christmas shopping? But what happened?”
“The truck driver fell asleep at the wheel. It was in the papers.”
“Oh. Guess I missed that.”
Corey and Ellie had gone into town to get her a present — a silver bracelet embedded with a tiny diamond. It was in a velvet cobalt blue box in the glove compartment, gift-wrapped, spattered with their blood when she saw it. The glove compartment door had sprung open on impact.
“The truck veered across the solid line into their path. They were killed on impact. Too many hours on the road without a break,” they said.
She had looked at the bracelet only one time after the funeral. Then she put it back in its velvet box and shoved it in a bureau drawer, out of sight. But never out of mind. She didn’t share any of that with Roach.
“What was he like?” He wasn’t looking at her when he asked the question. He sounded like he really wanted to know. He sounded sincere.
“Corey had a good heart. He was an honorable man. He always tried to do the right thing.” She wanted to say that he was a wonderful teacher, which he was, but got a sense that she would just raise more resentment in Roach, so she left it unsaid. “He was a good husband and father. He loved us. I loved him.”
“You miss him.”
There were no words to express how much. “Yes, I miss him. I miss my little girl, too.”
“I know what it is to be lonely, Abby.”
We were back to him. It always came back to him and what he felt the world owed him. If he was looking for sympathy, she had little to offer. Granted, there was a moment back at the motel when she saw him as a child, but that moment was gone. He was a grown man. He’d made his own choices. Many people come up from horrendous beginnings and manage to make decent lives for themselves and enrich the lives of those around them, she thought. She glanced at him again. Although he and Corey didn’t really look alike, she could glimpse Corey’s face in certain of his expressions. She wished it weren’t so.
She turned away and her heart faltered as a flash of silver metal appeared in one of the smeared windows of the warehouse. Seconds later, Karen’s car came into full view as the Prius rounded the corner of the mall building and now continued slowly on down the hill toward them. Her heart was beating double-time, trying to climb into her throat. She wanted to scream at Karen to go back. To get out of here.
“Don’t worry,” he said softly beside her. “It’ll all be over soon. I’m not going to hurt her.”
Karen stopped the car beside the big orange bin.
The Roach must have noticed it there during the time they’d abandoned Abby’s car in the lot. Right now, his right hand was relaxed on the steering wheel. She knew the knife was in his left. “Why isn’t she getting out of the car?” he said, the question almost a hiss between his teeth. “What’s she up to?”
“Probably just making sure no one is watching her, Ken.” It was the first time she had called him by his first name. She didn’t know why she had. “Karen’s a careful person,” she said, which was not as true as she would like it to be. “I’m sure you don’t want someone else running off with your money.”
He didn’t answer, just kept his narrowed eyes pinned on the car. His gaze shifted to a wider section of ground in front of them, where half a dozen kids had gathered and were kicking a soccer ball around. They were quite a distance away and paying them no attention.
An older man with a shaggy grey beard and clothes that were little more than rags hanging off him, was pushing a shopping cart along the track, picking up empty bottles or whatever he could find of value. He didn’t look their way. He had his own survival to think about.
How had Karen managed to come up with that much money? If indeed she had. She could just make out her younger sister’s blonde head in the driver’s seat, no one else. She had followed his instructions. Not even Pete was with her, unless he was crouched down in the back seat, and that wasn’t likely. What would be the point? Pete was not the physical type. And he’d be no match for this hardened criminal beside her if he were.
She heard no sirens, so the police weren’t coming. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been counting on that. No one would be coming to rescue them. She glanced down at the knife in Roach’s hand, saw the blade flash in the sun coming through the windshield. It was never far from him, and he was lightning fast with it. Not that she needed any reminders, she thought as a flash memory of Tattoo clutching his throat, blood spurting from him like thick red water from a fountain, rushed to the screen of her mind.
Finally, Karen’s car door opened and she got out. The sight of her standing alone sent Abby’s heartbeat up another notch as she took in the familiar jeans and jacket, the ponytail. She was holding the gym bag and looking around her. She glanced at the orange garbage bin a few feet from her. Abby felt Roach relax beside her. “Good girl,” he muttered.
But she made no move to drop the money in the bin.
“Now what the hell’s she waiting for?” he asked again.
Abby didn’t answer at first. Then she said, “She wants to make sure I’m alive before she gives you the money.”
He muttered a curse. “Get out of the car!”
Abby obeyed. Her legs were shaking. Some part of her took in that it was a beautiful day. Sun shining, blue skies. One of the seagulls who’d been foraging for food lifted into the air and the sun shone through its wings, making them appear translucent.
Roach ushered her around the corner of the building where the Prius was parked so Karen could see her. The instant she spotted Abby she began to walk slowly in her direction. Ken Roach had an arm wrapped around Abby’s neck, the knife in his right hand, to her throat. The cold sharp steel pricked her skin, causing her to gasp.
“Stop right there,” the Roach yelled. “That’s far enough.”
She stopped, still holding the bag. As soon as the woman began to walk, Abby knew at once she wasn’t Karen. Her movements were too precise; her strides longer, surer, than Karen’s. Abby’s relief was almost too huge to contain. But she was careful not to let Ken Roach see it, or even sense it.
“Toss the bag and get back in the c
ar,” he told her.
He’s changing gears on the fly, Abby thought. He doesn’t really have a plan anymore.
The woman obeyed. Her eyes were calm, watchful. A police officer, Abby deduced. Thank you, thank you.
She tossed the bag. It landed on the ground halfway between them on a broken piece of pavement. When the Roach stepped forward to retrieve it, dragging Abby with him, the officer reached behind her back and drew her gun.
“Let her walk away right now, or I’ll put a bullet right between your eyes, Roach.”
He let out a curse. “She’s a cop,” Ken Roach said in Abby’s ear. “Your sister betrayed you, Abby. Families always betray you in the end. I hope you’ve said your prayers.”
She waited to feel the knife’s sharp blade across her throat, but he seemed frozen to the spot. Yet, he couldn’t let the money go. He rushed at the gym bag, taking Abby with him.
The instant he bent to grab the handle, Abby jerked out of his grasp, and as she did, she felt the sharp sting of the blade. Simultaneously a shot rang out. Roach let out a grunt, releasing his hold. Abby fell to her knees, crab-crawled toward the officer as Ken Roach sprinted to the car, and took off, tires screaming on the pavement and firing up dirt where the pavement ended.
“I’m Officer Charley Fitch,” the woman said. “Are you okay, Mrs. Miller?”
“I’m fine,” Abby yelled at her, pushing away hands that were helping her to her feet. “Just get him. He’s getting away.”
“Don’t worry, ma’am, he’s not going anywhere. I didn’t come here alone.” On closer examination of her wound, the officer’s demeanour changed and she was on the phone, ordering an ambulance to the scene. Abby put a hand to her throat and felt the warm blood spilling over her fingers, and once more remembered Tattoo.
And then she saw the gym bag still sitting on the piece of broken pavement — the reason for all that had happened. And it sat alone, like a lost pet, unclaimed. Then she noticed the drops of blood near it. She was not the only one in trouble.
The Deepest Dark Page 16