by Tom Crown
He was on edge, knowing he was facing some very real threats to his safety now. Alex was a serious problem, but one he had sought out and was fully prepared to deal with. Ryan West was another matter entirely, an unexpected factor that was difficult to gauge and required constant attention. The man was driven by passion and righteousness, and a large dose of desperate confusion, and could never be considered safe to be around. The police were a distant third on the list of troubles Steve was compiling in his head, and the local population a possible fourth. The car testing industry generated considerable wealth here, particularly for a region that had been dying for decades before the industry came to its rescue, and the locals were very protective. The area had a number of advantages over Canada and Russia, with better roads and shorter distances, but those factors only made test car photographers more of a problem, and the people here knew it. Local businesses sometimes even posted pictures of known photographers on their walls to make it easier for the test car drivers to avoid them. A lot of jobs were at stake. A lot of money. Enough for some people to go to extremes.
He turned away from the window and looked at Jenny again. The sheet had slipped down a bare shoulder, and the bruises she had tried so carefully to hide were impossible not to notice. It looked like someone had squeezed her arm and then tossed her into something hard.
He felt anger flash inside him. It was incomprehensible that a woman would stay a single moment in any abusive relationship. There was no intimacy in that, only distance and disrespect, the exact opposite of the total connection you felt when you actually killed someone with your own hands, skin against skin, looking that individual in the eye, leaning closer, being the one person in their world that mattered the most. The only one that mattered at all.
He turned over and slipped out of bed. He walked to his desk, closer to the door, and picked up a camera and turned it on. The shutter slid open with a solid, mechanical sound, almost loud enough to wake a light sleeper, but Jenny didn’t move. He walked to the window, pushed the thin curtain aside with the lens, and peered out looking through the camera. He found his bearings quickly in the magnified world inside. He enjoyed the ability to move so freely, to get closer or farther away, covering vast distances with only a slight turn of his finger. On a good day, with strong light and a challenging landscape, it could almost feel like flying.
Now, however, all he saw was spruce, the sloping ground, and the bare granite on the water’s edge.
He looked closer, panning over the sandy beach. There were plenty of tracks, but none he could recognize as fresh or otherwise more significant than the others. Probably most of the tracks were his. He had paced back and forth, up and down, navigating the stones hidden in the sand as he talked with his wife over the phone. That beach was where the bulk of their divorce had been negotiated, mostly in the tone of their voices, between the lines. It had cost him close to a million dollars, money he had squandered the last couple of years and couldn’t respectably account for. How did you explain that test cars didn’t get his blood pumping anymore, when humans could be so much more interesting?
He turned the camera toward the approach road, still wanting to make sure the sound hadn’t come from outside. He scanned the area quickly and saw no sign of a vehicle. Of course, if someone were to sneak up on the cabin in the middle of the night, they wouldn’t leave a car visible on the road. They wouldn’t use the road at all.
He searched the forest again, but only saw a few birds taking off. They flew leisurely, two and two, and didn’t seem to have been startled into flight.
He lowered the camera and checked the last photo he had taken an hour earlier of Katia asleep on the sofa still holding on to her bag with Ryan sitting on the floor close to her, oblivious to the world around him. Test car photographers were good at sleeping in that position, and Ryan was a fast learner. It was a good shot, a good composition, the sofa to the left, the armchair to the right, Ryan and Katia more together than apart despite the coffee table between them. Somehow it looked more like they were sleeping around a fading campfire than on the floor of a fairly comfortable living room. Perhaps it was Ryan who gave it that look with a physical presence augmented by so many cuts and bruises. Then again perhaps it was Katia, who was sleeping restlessly, like a rabbit ready to bolt at the slightest sound. Steve reminded himself to check the contents of her bag at the first opportunity. These girls weren’t the helpless victims they were so often made out to be. You’d be hard-pressed to find a more dangerous combination of street-smart cruelty and cold-blooded manipulative talent than in a teenage prostitute.
He considered taking a knife from the kitchen and getting rid of them all. He would start with Ryan, a quick slit from behind, then lunge at Katia and stab her through the heart. The noise from the moving furniture would wake Jenny, and then he’d have to chase her back into the bedroom and throw himself on top of her and squeeze her neck with his bloodied hands.
He grinned, instantly liking the whole idea.
Jenny was still asleep, breathing gently, but her face was now illuminated by the shining display of her phone charging on the nightstand. He grinned when he understood how simple the explanation was. It was her phone that had stirred him from sleep. Of course she would start getting calls and messages about Mats right about now. He stepped closer and considered looking at the display, which was fading again, but he decided against it. She could wake at any moment now, if she wasn’t awake already.
It was time to focus. What he really needed to do was move his plan forward. He needed to up the pressure on Alex. Katia’s dead body might be just what was needed to accomplish that goal. Jenny’s would only bring him more trouble.
Another noise. This time it definitely came from outside the window, and it was definitely not an animal. He took a step forward and peered out.
Ryan and Katia were outside, walking briskly toward his Land Rover, their intent more than obvious. Another couple of steps and they would be on their way.
He couldn’t let them leave.
* * * *
Jenny listened as Steve left the room and felt a pang of anger and sadness, but realized it was all reflex. This was his house, and regardless of how he felt about her, he wouldn’t go far.
She sank back into the bed and looked at the ceiling, and she suddenly remembered the most beautiful love song, sung by a female singer, her voice strong, but the words vulnerable; “No note beside the bed saying, ‘See you later, honey, it’s been fun.’ There’s no sign of hit and run.”
Jenny had been through her share of hit and runs. The test drivers had a knack for it. And she had been too easy. She still was.
She sighed and looked around, reminding herself again that he would be back. The little model cars he had played with the night before still sat on the nightstand. What kind of man actually owned model cars at the age of thirty something? And how old was he anyway? Actually forty?
She didn’t know much about him, but at least she knew he was gentle. She could picture herself with a man like him in the long run. Except, she reminded herself soberly, for the fact that he was married already.
And what did she have to offer? She was pretty. Not drop dead gorgeous, she rarely heard that, but pretty enough. And if she tried, she could be a lot of fun. That combination was usually enough. And she wasn’t actually looking to get married or anything like that. There were so many things to do in this life, and so many places to go. Thailand was her foremost dream. It wasn’t a place to go and live for good, but it would be such a beautiful place to visit. She loved the islands and beaches, the clear water, and the towering cliffs. When she saw pictures like that she really wanted to learn how to dive, but in truth she barely knew how to swim. The Baltic Sea was too far away, and the nearby lakes were usually too cold for swimming even during the summer.
London was another dream, even more tangible. She had almost gone at sixteen, after picking up a brochure from a language school at the library. She had always loved the E
nglish language, had understood it as the key to real freedom.
Her phone buzzed. She had set it to silent and forgot about it, happy to escape her old life for at least a night, but now she felt a pang of guilt. She immediately reached for it and looked at the display. Her friend Linda had called several times, her mother twice, Joel once, Peter three times. She switched to messages and saw twenty-two new ones. She opened the most recent ones and quickly realized everyone was frantic with worry. Jenny moved her thumb toward the dial icon, but then lifted it away. She heard voices in the hallway. Steve, Ryan, even Katia.
She got out of bed and grabbed her trousers from the armchair in the nearest corner. Pulling them on, she tried intently to hear what was being said, but the voices were too muted. She looked around for her jacket and shoes, then decided she didn’t need them.
She stalked across the room and pulled the door open. Steve was outside, apparently just about to knock. He smiled when he saw her.
“Hey,” he said. “Good morning.”
Jenny looked around and saw Ryan and Katia hanging up their jackets in the hallway, Katia awkwardly clutching her bag.
“What’s up?” she finally asked, turning her gaze back to Steve.
“I found those two about to go into town.” He nodded toward the hallway.
“Yeah?” Had they really been leaving? Somehow the notion made her thoroughly uncomfortable.
“I stopped them just in time,” Steve grinned. “There’s nothing open, right?”
“Yes. No. Not quite yet.” She watched Katia over Steve’s shoulder, as the girl moved into the living room and threw her backpack on the sofa. Jenny noticed the lid bounce open and bundles of cash slipping out of the bag.
Her heart skipped a beat. That bag was full of money.
She immediately understood where it came from and what people had done to get it. She had seen the girls and the men. She had seen Mats, sometimes leaving with empty hands, and returning with them full. And she had seen him do it the other way too, and then come home empty handed.
She wondered how much money it was. It looked like it could be hundreds of thousands, certainly enough to stir up considerable trouble. It couldn’t belong to Katia, and that meant people would come after it. She thought back on what had happened earlier. The car chase. The crash. Katia had been in the van. She had been in the back. The money must have been up front. They would never have kept it with her personally. Katia must have grabbed it right after the crash. Just before Ryan found her.
Perhaps there was more. She had seen the men searching for something. But that van was gone now. Perhaps Katia had it all. Perhaps she didn’t even know how much money she actually had.
Jenny felt her mind race with the possibilities. One way or another, she would find a way out from this town, and right now it looked like she had a number of workable options.
She smiled at Steve, and he took that as a sign to move closer. That was good, she decided. She wanted him away from the bag. She liked him a lot, but she wouldn’t trust him with that kind of money.
“You all right?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I have to go. To the hospital.” She held up her phone to show him the calls and messages she had missed. “To the morgue. Will you take me?”
Steve flashed that affable smile of his that immediately put her at ease. “To the morgue? Sure, I’ll take you.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
A STRANGE FEELING of déjà vu came over Ryan when he entered the hotel lobby, looking around in bewilderment just as he had the first time he stepped in and spotted Jenny there. But nothing was the same this time. Then he had been weary after a long flight, and an even longer drive, with a mind flooded with memories. Now he was battered and bruised, probably in danger, and his focus on the absolute present.
A woman in her fifties was sitting behind the desk. She looked up from a colorful magazine and studied him with obvious suspicion. If she did so because he was a stranger to her or because he was Ryan West, the killer of Lapland sons, he couldn’t immediately tell. Would he have been better off going with Jenny, Steve, and Katia to the hospital, or having asked them to stay until he was finished here? He was certainly about to find out.
He closed the door behind him with care, making sure not to rattle the glass panes. The woman kept watching him, a finger bookmarking her article in the magazine.
“Hi!” he said, cheerful, carefree, but the woman only grimaced and adjusted her reading glasses in reply. He fished out the room key from a pocket and held it up as he walked past. She turned away.
He continued to the stairs and climbed the first couple of steps quickly, but then slowed as the stairs made a sharp turn to the right. He suddenly felt uneasy about not being able to see what awaited him upstairs. He stopped completely and looked down, remembering how he had watched Jenny on the phone when he first entered the lobby the night before. He remembered the light and the shadows cast by the midnight sun. The night had been ominous, even early on, and yet he had walked right into it all.
He turned and continued up the stairs. He would have plenty of time to think about his actions when he found a peaceful place to rest and heal. Lapland wasn’t that place, as far as he could tell now.
At the top of the stairs he turned and walked to his room, the second door of three on his left. He put the key in the lock, but the sudden sound of footsteps behind him caused him to stop and look up.
Four men were at the end of the corridor, and he recognized them as Mats’s friends from the night before, with Joel as their apparent new leader. Jenny had told him the names during breakfast, but Joel was the only one that had stuck. He considered for a moment whether using the name would help him, if that familiarity could make them less eager to attack, but as he watched them approach he realized their decision had already been made.
Ryan glanced quickly over his shoulder. The door at the far end of the corridor behind him led to a balcony. He wasn’t far above the ground, fifteen feet at most, but there were nevertheless too many ways that a balcony could make matters worse.
The men kept coming toward him. The hallway was narrow, so they had to fall in line. A young man walked first, flaunting greasy hair and a faded AC/DC T-shirt. He looked dangerous enough, not strong, but eager to fight in that certain way only young men were, and that was always bad news. Joel was a step behind, all blond hair and sports clothing, quite a contrast to the guy ahead of him. He looked like a college kid serious about football or whatever they played around here. Not that they actually had a college. Maybe he was into rafting, or mountain climbing, something that built muscle. Ryan couldn’t quite see the two guys at the rear, but he’d surely get a good look soon enough.
He stood his ground outside his door, key still in the lock. That could prove both dangerous and useful, so he left it hanging there.
The men were five steps away. Nobody made a hostile move.
Three steps.
Two.
Ryan took a deep breath.
One.
The first man walked right past him.
The second man, Joel, attacked, sending Ryan hard against the door. The metal handle dug deep into his side, but it protected him from the keys. He began to sink down and tried to push himself away from the wall, but that turned out to be a bad idea. He had already lost his balance and now he stumbled as he watched the men encircle him and cut off the view from the other doors. Not that there were any witnesses anywhere.
He took a step just to steady himself. They must have thought he was about to run because the circle immediately closed in. He saw the other two guys clearly now, one much younger than the others, perhaps seventeen, and the second man older, heavyset from too many beers and reindeer stews.
The first fist landed on the side of his head. He hit the wall again and crashed to the floor. His head landed hard on the spruce plank floor where a sharp edge cut him just above the eye. He felt the warmth around his eye as the blood welled forth. Then kick
s and fists rained down in a furious assault.
The men were all eerily quiet, their faces twisted in resentment, and Ryan understood there wasn’t much he could do but try to protect himself. His hands and arms were busy covering his face, and even if he kicked out the best he could, he didn’t have much of a chance of doing any serious damage to all four of them that way. Perhaps they would get even with him at some point, or perhaps he would stop sensing anything they did to him.
He noticed the morning sun shining behind them, a soft beam of light angling straight inside. The kicks kept coming, and then he saw flashes of a much brighter light, the Afghan mountain sun, glaring behind their moving bodies. He tried to cover his face with his hands, then his arms, but was unable to block the onslaught. His arms kept hitting his face, his own knuckles connecting with fresh and old bruises. He kept his arms up, dividing the pain between arms and face. There was nothing else he could do.
The fists kept coming. And that sun came on strong between them. That much brighter sun.
He couldn’t tell for certain where he was. The hard plank floor was very real, but the past was equally strong in his mind, while the present was certainly not where he wanted to be.
Waking up on the basement floor, cool and steady, had been a relief after hours in the back of the moving van. He’d had no idea how long he had slept or been unconscious. It had been many hours, he knew that, perhaps even days.
A young boy cracked the door open. He looked eight or nine, at most, and couldn’t have been the only guard posted outside. His job must have been to check on him from time to time because his face lit up when their eyes met. He shouted something excitedly and slammed the door shut again. Ryan instantly understood he wasn’t going to be left alone much longer.