“So what happens now?” she asked sullenly.
“Now we go the hell home,” he said. The car rocked slightly as the wind from the bay shook it, and he shivered convulsively. “Man, I don’t know how anyone lives around here. It’s the fuckin’ tundra.”
“It’s not even as cold as Minnesota,” she said scornfully.
“I wouldn’t want to live there, either.”
“Can’t you just tell Hector that as soon as I wrap things up here, I’m on my way home,” she said in her most persuasive tone. “There’s no need for any of this.”
“It’s too late, now,” he said, a dark expression in his eyes. “You complicated it. You involved other people. You shouldn’t have done that.”
“You two ran me into a river,” Michelle said angrily. “I could’ve drowned. Hector isn’t going to like that.”
“You’re the one who drove off the road when we passed you,” he said, unimpressed. “All we wanted was for you to stop and talk to us. And we would’ve gone back and pulled you out if that woman hadn’t come along.”
Michelle bit her lip, feeling guilty at the reminder. Lana would be really scared right now, not understanding what was happening. Michelle truly regretted that fact and was even a little sorry that she’d involved her in the first place, even though without Lana’s help and support, it was unlikely Michelle would have been able to track down the clues leading to Cheticamp. She would have probably given up after the disappointment in Grand-Pré. Or, more likely, been forced to give up by these two idiots who didn’t see anything beyond the tips of their fat noses.
She saw Juan ducking through the chain-link fence. After he got back in the car, he handed the gun back to Pierre before shifting into gear and pulling away from the snowbank.
“Are they all right?” she asked.
“They’re okay.” He glanced at her in the rearview mirror. She could see his eyes, dark beneath his thick brows in the narrow rectangle of reflective glass. “I locked them in. They might get a little cold, but they’ll be fine.”
Michelle shook her head. “This is such a mess.”
“Thanks to you.” Juan glanced at her again, eyes narrowing. “You’re getting the backseat all dirty.”
Michelle rolled her eyes, but his comment made her suddenly conscious of the state she was in, scratched and bruised and completely filthy after nearly being swallowed by the collapsing well. “I need a shower,” she said. “Take me back to the cabin and let me change.”
Pierre shook his head. “And give you a chance to do something stupid? I don’t think so.”
“I can’t travel all the way home like this!” she said, annoyed. “I’m dripping mud.”
“She’s right. We can’t go anywhere with her looking like that,” Juan advised his partner. “We need to clean her up.”
“Fine. We’ll take her back to that cabin she was staying in.” Pierre turned and fixed Michelle with a baleful glare. “But only long enough for you to clean up, and I swear, if you try anything—”
“Yeah, yeah, you’ll do bad things,” she said in a bored tone. “Except we both know Hector wouldn’t like it, and if he doesn’t like it, then you morons don’t get paid. You might even,” she added spitefully, “be fired.”
As they passed the red Challenger, she glanced over at it, wincing at what her friends must now think of her. Not that Emily’s opinion of Michelle had ever been all that high, but to know she’d be able to point to this and tell Lana she’d been right about Michelle’s low character all along was positively galling. Michelle looked down at the battered metal box in her arms, wondering if it had been worth it. Then she thought of the cross inside and knew it had been.
Back at the cabin, Pierre tossed the women’s phones and Emily’s set of car keys on the table, while Juan went over to the kitchenette and found the packets of coffee provided by the motel. As he pulled out the coffeemaker and filled it with water, Michelle started for the bedroom to gather some clothes.
“Wait,” Pierre said.
She paused with a frown, one that grew deeper when he motioned at the box. “What?”
“Leave that here,” he said. “As long as we have it, I know you won’t be going anywhere without us.” At her hesitation, he reached out and grabbed it, pulling it forcibly from her grip. She glared at him and he offered a thin smile. “Go get cleaned up.”
Furious, she found some clothes and went into the bathroom, stripping off her grimy garments, which she tossed in the sink. She tried to clean the winter jacket Lana had bought her with a washcloth, dampening it and brushing off the worst of the mud. Then she took a shower, the water running brown around her feet for quite some time before it finally cleared up.
Feeling much better, and a little more in control of things, she dressed in a pair of clean underwear, jeans, and a long-sleeved black shirt with a big logo on the front, an Acadian red, blue, and white flag, a gold star emblazoned in the corner. A souvenir she’d bought in one of the restaurant gift shops. She treated the cuts on her hands with some antibacterial cream and Band-Aids she found in the medicine cabinet above the sink. When she returned to the outer living area, carrying her jacket, she felt a qualm as she saw Pierre had removed the cross from the box and was examining it curiously.
“Is this really pure gold?” he asked, a sort of greedy wonder in his voice.
“Yes,” she said slowly, a bad feeling beginning to pulse at her temples.
“Nice,” he said, and looked at Juan. “I wonder how much we could get for it.”
She grabbed it out of his hand before he could stop her, though he half rose out of his chair to come after her. At Juan’s calming motion, he sank back down but continued to regard her with an ugly expression on his tattooed features.
Suddenly uncomfortable, she wrapped the precious cross back up in the oilskin and replaced it in the box. She wished she had some kind of lock she could add, but the most she could do was find a plastic grocery bag left over from breakfast and wrap the box inside, concealing it from view as she tied the handles together.
“It’s priceless,” she told him, eyeing Pierre darkly. “That’s why Hector wants it so badly. But it’s because of its intrinsic historical value. What it means to our people. Not because it’s made out of gold.”
“Still,” he said, sneering a bit. “It might be worth its weight.”
“Hector wouldn’t like it,” she said, forcing herself to glare at him.
“Hector don’t like a lot of things. Like having you for a daughter.”
Despite how little she thought of him and his opinion, the comment stung and she opened her mouth to retort. Juan drained the last of his coffee and slammed the mug down on the wooden table with a bit more force than necessary, making the sound rattle through the small cabin and interrupting the argument.
“Let’s go,” he said when he had both Pierre and Michelle’s attention. “I want to get there tonight.”
Michelle tried to find a way to stall, though she didn’t know for what exactly. It would be impossible for her to retrieve one of the phones discarded on the table. Besides, who would she call? The police? They’d take the cross and possibly arrest her, along with Juan and Pierre.
“I’m hungry,” she said.
“Big surprise,” Juan said, lifting an eyebrow. “We’ll stop on the way and pick up something to eat. There’s gotta be a McDonald’s somewhere around here.”
She wanted to ask on the way to where but didn’t want to show any sign of weakness, any hint that she wasn’t in control, regardless of the circumstances. She sensed that could be dangerous, especially around Pierre. And Juan wasn’t necessarily much better. He just seemed a little more easygoing, but she knew both of them did not-so-nice things for Hector when it came to his business.
As they stepped out of the cabin, she was surprised to see it had begun to snow, small, tiny flakes floating down from the darkening sky, a thin strip of clear air on the horizon showing the final rays of the sun. The lo
wering clouds made for a spectacular sunset, but as she got into the backseat of the sedan, she could see a thin layer of snow beginning to gather on the surface of the car, wafting away capriciously as Juan started the engine and backed up.
As they pulled out of the motel and out onto the highway, Pierre turned around and reached into the backseat. “Give it to me,” he ordered her.
“No, I’ll hold it,” she said, gripping the bag tightly. A brief tug of war ensued, neither willing to let go, and Pierre snarled at her like a junkyard dog.
“Give it to him,” Juan said suddenly. He looked annoyed, whether at her or at his partner wasn’t entirely clear. “We’ll take care of it until we get back to the States. I don’t trust you with it. It makes you do stupid things.”
As she reluctantly released her grip, it occurred to her that the gold in the cross might make them do stupid things, too. Like ditch her somewhere and take the cross for themselves.
“Hector will be really glad to add the cross to his collection,” she said pointedly as they drove on through the swiftly gathering darkness. The falling snow added to the gloom, the wind whipping it across the highway as if winter sprites were playfully chasing each other along the pavement.
“Probably.” Juan offered a crooked smile. “I’m just glad he offered a bonus if we brought the cross back along with you.”
“Not as much as we could get for it from Eddy,” Pierre muttered.
“What?” Juan looked at him. “What’s Eddy got to do with this?”
“I’m just saying,” Pierre said, waving his meaty hand for emphasis. “He could find a buyer for it, one that might pay more than Hector would. And even if he couldn’t, we could melt this thing down and take the gold. That’d be worth a fortune.”
“You can’t melt it down,” Michelle said, horrified. “It’s almost three hundred years old. It’s a religious relic of great historical value. Melting it down would be—would be—” She faltered, trying to find something suitable that would penetrate Pierre’s greed and spark Juan’s more sensible nature. “It would be blasphemy.”
Juan looked uncomfortable as he was forced to slow down, the snow falling faster and beginning to collect on the pavement. Perhaps it was because of the driving conditions, but she hoped it was because of her comment. She knew he was Catholic, and it might be enough to sway him to her side. And her side was now to get the cross back to her father, where at least he would protect it.
Regardless of how much she might have already disappointed him.
Chapter Twenty-four
Emily saw Juan’s comment register with Lana, saw her expression change, the devastation and betrayal that swept over her. Emily’s own fists were clenched at her sides as fury rose, bright and strong, almost choking her as she stood there, on a knife’s edge, while Juan closed the door. She listened to the clink of chain being wound around the handle and the snick of the padlock snapping shut with a muffled click, locking them in.
She forced herself to breathe steadily, tracking him as his footsteps retreated across the snow, and then the car door of the sedan slammed, the engine revved slightly, and the car’s wheels began to crunch through the ice and snow, until finally it all faded away to leave nothing but the wind whistling around the eaves and the waves crashing on to the nearby shore. Through the two small windows, the fading light turned gray, then dark, the interior of the shed illuminated only when the flash of the lighthouse turned their way, making it hard to see anything as their vision was alternately dazzled and darkened.
Lana made a soft sound, a combination of grief and despair as she slumped down on a wooden workbench. Concerned, Emily went over and sat beside her, wrapping her arm around her shoulders in silent support, holding her as best she could through the ski jacket.
“I’m so sorry, Emily,” Lana whispered. “I got you into this.”
“This isn’t your fault,” Emily said strongly. “None of it.”
“You’re wrong. If I hadn’t gone along with Michelle, if I hadn’t believed every damn thing she said—” Her voice caught on a half sob. “Everything she told me was a lie!”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” Emily said, squeezing and shaking Lana a little for emphasis. “You believe the best in people, you give them your trust. If they choose to betray that, it’s not on you. It’s on them.” She let out her breath in a huff. “Michelle fooled me, too, and I’m supposed to be the professional here.”
Lana protested. “You never trusted her!”
“No, but I went along with what she was doing,” Emily admitted. “I honestly believed her when she said she was seeking out this cross for the good of the Acadians.” Her jaw was set so hard it ached. “Rather than for herself and her father.”
Lana put her hand up to her face, covering her mouth. “What’ll we do?” Her voice was muffled through her fingers.
“We find a way out of here,” Emily said, reluctantly releasing her and standing up. She looked around, assessing her surroundings.
The maintenance shed was unheated, but it wasn’t empty. Metal shelves held wooden crates and oil-stained cardboard boxes, while three dislodged tarps revealed, respectively, a pile of pressure-treated lumber, a couple of lawn mowers, and a collection of beach junk consisting of broken lobster traps, torn fishing nets, and some damaged buoys. The two small windows had been reinforced with metal mesh, undoubtedly to keep people out and prevent vandalism and theft, but serving equally as well to keep them inside.
“We need some light. Something better than what we have.” Moving over to the door, she squinted at the area around it and was pleased when she saw the light switch. After she flipped it up, the fluorescent lights overhead flickered to life, illuminating the shed with a pallid hue.
“This is good,” Emily said, making her tone strong and determined, knowing Lana needed the reassurance of her confidence, regardless of how Emily might really be feeling. “This is an unmanned facility. Someone may notice the lights being on here when they’re not supposed to be.”
She looked at the far end of the rectangular building and spotted another entrance, larger, with a double set of wooden doors, but when she tried them, she discovered that in addition to the interior deadbolt, they were also secured from the outside. As she examined her surroundings, Lana remained where she was, huddled in her coat, watching Emily with bleak eyes.
“I’m glad I’m not alone,” she said suddenly.
Emily flashed her a smile. “I am, too.”
She made another circuit of the shed, looking for anything useful. She spotted another tarp-covered mound that looked untouched, as if whoever had dislodged the first three couldn’t be bothered to check this one, assuming it to be more of the same. She’d reached out to flip up the edge when Lana spoke again, only this time, her voice was very small.
“I was afraid they were going to kill us.”
Immediately, Emily stopped what she was doing and went over to her, pulling her up into a strong embrace, holding her as tight as she could. “Honestly, the thought crossed my mind a few times, too,” she admitted softly into Lana’s ear. “And all I could think was that it wasn’t fair. I’d finally dredged up the courage to ask you out.”
Despite the circumstances, Lana managed a small laugh, and her bravery warmed Emily. After all, she was trained to think on her feet, regardless of circumstances, but Lana was a civilian. “I’m feeling a lot warmer, now.”
Emily chuckled and nuzzled into Lana’s thick dark hair. “Yeah,” she said. “I am, too.”
They held each other for a few minutes longer, and Emily hoped Lana was drawing as much strength from their embrace as she was. As she stepped back, she looked into Lana’s soulful eyes and took the opportunity to kiss her, tenderly, offering both assurance and the promise that she’d do everything she could to make things right.
“We’ll be okay,” she whispered, once they finally parted.
“I know,” Lana said, her voice stronger now. “What can I do?”
> Reluctantly, Emily took a step back, dropping her arms. “Let’s try to find a lever of some kind.”
“Give me a lever and I’ll move the world,” Lana said, dryly.
“Or at least the door,” Emily remarked, making Lana laugh out loud.
They separated and began to examine the interior of the shed in greater detail, poking through the boxes and rusted tool chests. Anything that seemed useful, they gathered up and took over to the workbench until they had a small pile of screwdrivers, hammers, and wrenches, none of which were particularly big. Emily regarded the pitiful collection and sighed.
“None of that is going to break us out,” she said ruefully.
“Could we bash a hole?” Lana suggested. “Using the hammers?”
“The doors are too strong. And the windows, even if we could pry off the mesh and break the glass, are too small to squeeze through.”
“What about the walls?”
Startled, Emily stared at her, then looked at the nearest wall, the wooden planks bare, the four-by-six studs visible. There was no insulation and, if she remembered correctly, no other siding, just weather-worn, water-resistant paint. “You know, that might work. Let’s see if we can find any weak or rotted spots.”
They each took a hammer and began to examine the walls, tapping occasionally to gauge the soundness, looking for any areas that might prove vulnerable. Finally, near the back corner, Emily saw a stain on the boards near the bottom of the wall, just beside the framing of the double doors, indicating water damage of some kind. When she used the hammer on it, the round head sank into the wood rather than rebounding as it had in other parts of the shed.
“Lana,” she called out. “I think we can break out here.”
Lana came over, and just as Emily was about to start smashing at the stained section, she asked in a practical tone, “What will we do once we’re out?”
Cross Purposes Page 16