“The Canadian is my ex-brother-in-law,” his voice was solemn and low. He cleared his throat and spoke a little louder. “The other guy? Pff, I have no idea who he is. I think he was a bodyguard from the plane. I don’t know how he got off the plane or survived, but he seems to be the real threat.”
“Your ex-brother-in-law?”
“Yeah, he used to be married to my sister. They met about 15 years ago; divorced 11 years ago. He contacted me a few weeks ago through a mutual friend, and I called him back. He said he had a plan to save Sophia.” Tears came to his eyes as he said the name.
“Sophia?” Jack asked.
“Yeah, my niece; his daughter.”
“What do you mean ‘save?’”
Andy stood and walked to the only shelf in the living room. He picked up a rustic picture frame with a portrait of a girl not more than 10 years old. She was thin with big green eyes, and two dimples that made her smile look like it was in parenthesis.
He handed the picture to Paul. “This is Sophia. She lives in Mexico with my sister. She’s battling cystic fibrosis, and now she may need a lung transplant. The medications, treatments, and therapy put my sister in so much debt she can’t even pay her bills anymore. She has no insurance so they might not qualify for the surgery, which is the only thing that will save her life.”
“What happens if she doesn’t get the surgery?” Eric asked.
“She may survive without it,” Andy continued. “But, she’ll need a team of doctors and a lifetime of treatment. The drugs are expensive, ya know?”
“Yeah, we know,” Paul said. He set the picture back on the shelf. “So, he needs this money to get to Mexico and take care of his daughter.”
“Yeah. My sister knows nothing about this, of course. I was going to drive him across the border after he got a fake passport, but if that bodyguard shoots him and takes the money, then there’s nothing we can do to save Sophia. We know it’s not the best way to save her, but it may be the only way.”
Paul’s thoughts turned to his niece, Jack’s daughter Tara. She lived with her mother in Pennsylvania and was about the same age as Sophia. “Jack, what if this was Tara? Wouldn’t you do anything to make her healthy and give her the life she deserves?”
“Of course,” Jack said. “But this isn’t my daughter or your niece. Are you willing to get yourself killed for a kid you don’t even know?”
“Absolutely.”
“Yeah, me too,” Jack admitted, knowing he wasn’t going to stop Paul now. “So, what are we going to do?”
“Why don’t I backtrack to the bay? I’ll approach from the south. Think you can walk to the north side of the bay?” Paul was looking at Jack’s leg.
“I’ll be a little slow, but sure, I can get there.”
“Once Eric warms up, you guys take Garrison Road around the bay, back to my truck. Wait for me there. Take Andy’s walkie-talkie and I’ll get the other one from Andy’s brother-in-law.”
“Ex-brother-in-law,” Andy reminded.
“I’ll meet you guys at the truck. If the bodyguard comes out before me, take off. Come back and get me in about an hour.”
Paul took a seat on the bench at the kitchen table and removed his insulated overalls, freeing himself from the cumbersome bulk. Jack handed him the bottle of Jim Beam, and Paul took a swallow of courage. He patted Andy on the back and then headed for the door with the 12-gauge shotgun in hand. “See you on the other side.”
“Thank you, Paul,” Andy offered. “I don’t expect you to get yourself killed, so be careful.”
“The bodyguard could be long gone with the money by now. It’s a long shot, but I’ve gotta take it.” With that, Paul opened the door and stepped outside. He knew this was going to be dangerous, but at least he was only putting himself in danger. As he strode through the snow, he was glad Eric and Jack weren’t in any shape to come along. They’d be safer if they walked back to the truck and waited for him there.
Paul backtracked down Garrison Road and then cut into the woods where they had exited, following his tracks back toward Bear Bay.
The snow was 13 inches deep, with a few drifts that went above his knees. It was eerily quiet as the snow muffled any sounds the world was making now. The woodpecker had disappeared, taking his annoying sound with him. Paul kept the shotgun pressed tight to his left shoulder; ready to shoot, ready to fight. He paused as the bay came into sight. A loud thumping sound filled his ears, and he thought the woodpecker had returned, until he realized he was hearing his own heartbeat.
Chapter 19 / Another Way
The Canadian sat on the ground with his legs straight out in front of him, leaning against a pine tree that curved out over the river 70 degrees. If the tree leaned any further, it would have looked like he was relaxing in a hammock. The tree was large enough to conceal the Canadian from Blankenship’s view and gave him a chance to rest and tend to his wounds. His back was to Blankenship, but the Canadian was doubtful the bodyguard would return. Blankenship was pretty beaten and battered, too, so hopefully, he’d had enough and decided to retreat.
Gravity was pulling the Canadian’s eyelids downward. He was exhausted and fighting the tendency to blackout. The only thing that kept him awake was the pain in his left arm from the bullet wounds. Surprisingly, the hole in his chest was less painful but more likely to send him to his grave.
He finally lost the battle with his eyelids, but his ears stayed open, listening for anyone trying to approach. As he closed his eyes, he found himself staring at the tombstone that haunted him all the way here.
He was standing so close he could only see the top, so he knelt down and read a single name engraved in the marble—“Sophia.”
He traced the letters—a script font debossed a quarter of an inch—with his right index finger. He stepped back to admire the flowers blossoming around the granite monument. He almost smiled at their beauty. The flowers seemed a little brighter, and the grass was the perfect shade of green. The little hummingbird returned, more content than her last visit when she left in a noisy hum of disappointment. Green feathers glimmered in the light. Everything was perfect. Everything was quiet.
He had failed his daughter for the umpteenth time in her short life. He’d never been there for her when she needed him. She counted on her mother for everything and was growing up without knowing who he really was. Someday, if she survived long enough, she would forget about him. All she would remember is the disappointment he brought to her world. The money was going to be his way of making up all the heartache and tears. He thought he was going to fix this, and make up for the time they’d lost together.
The little hummingbird zipped by his head and went behind him.
He pivoted 180 degrees and watched the bird perch herself on a second headstone. A couple of steps put him close enough to see nothing but a skull engraved on the front. He knelt to look closer.
The skull was rough and incomplete, as if the artist had rushed the engraving to meet a strict deadline. The granite was glossy with a mirror-like finish, but the only reflection he could see was his own, overlaying the edgy skull staring back at him.
A branch cracked in front of him, and a surge of adrenaline forced him from his dream.
“Blankenship?” the Canadian mechanic asked in a weak voice. There was no answer.
A noisy grouse took flight and zig-zagged through the trees toward him. It sailed 10 feet above his head toward the open ice, and then abrubtly turned right and flew back into the security of the thick evergreens. Something, or someone, had spooked the grouse, which put him on high alert. He assumed Blankenship was coming to finish him off. He pulled his pistol from his holster, ready to die, but determined to live.
****
Paul’s stomach knotted like a pretzel when he thought about what he might have to do. He never thought he’d be in a situation that might cause him to use a gun on another person. He wanted to avoid that at all costs, even if it meant losing the money. “Losing the money,” he t
hought about the notion. It wasn’t even his money to lose. He found the money in the plane, but it belonged to someone else. Someone corrupt, sure, but never-the-less, someone else, not him. Did the Canadian have more right to that money than Paul? No. No, he did not. Did the plane’s owner have more right to the money? No, he didn’t deserve it.
Paul knew the right thing—the morally correct thing—to do, was to turn the money over to the police and forget it ever existed. But shit, most of the police were corrupt, too. How could he be sure they could be trusted? He wished Stacie’s Uncle Ernie was there—he’d know what to do.
He crested the last hill near the bay and ducked behind a fallen log to study the scene below. There was some blood on the ice, but devoid of maniacal Canadians trying to kill each other. He knew the serenity was false and decided to sidestep along the hill to further observe. On his third step, a grouse popped up from behind some beech whips, scaring Paul so much that he nearly pulled the trigger of the shotgun. His heart pounded harder than the bird’s wings beat the winter air.
Paul couln’t help but to follow the bird with his eyes. It shot toward the river, zig-zagging through the trees and into the bay. Then it turned 90 degrees to the right and came back to the woods. Paul knew the bird’s noisy getaway announced his presence, so he stood erect and scanned the woods between himself and the ice.
Thirty yards in front of him, Paul could see the Canadian supine against the leaning tree. The Canadian’s eyes were scanning the forest until they locked on Paul. To Paul’s surprise, the Canadian holstered his pistol and relaxed when he realized it was not Blankenship who had spooked the grouse. The Canadian watched Paul descend the hill with a shouldered shotgun. The shotgun’s front sight stayed pinned on the Canadian’s chest as Paul meandered down.
The Candian had shed one of his shirts and tore pieces off to bandage his wounds. A bloody knife, used to remove one of the slugs, rested on his lap. His teeth were crimson from coughing up the fluid that filled one of his lungs. The red liquid seeped into his red beard, hiding the gray and giving the injured man a savage appearance.
He made eye contact with Paul a couple of times as if to say, “I see you coming. I’m not surprised.” But mostly, he just ignored Paul’s approach. Each man knew the other was not a threat.
“You okay?” Paul asked more out of reflex than actual concern.
“Yeah. I’m…I’m okay. That friggin Blankenship got off a couple of lucky shots. Frigger should go back to Ottawa and play the lottery with his luck.”
“Where is he now? Did he leave with the money?”
“Nope,” the Canadian pulled the case from beside the tree and set it on his lap. “I guess this is what you came back for, eh? Finish me off and take the money for yourself?”
“No.”
The Canadian squinted in confusion.
Paul walked closer and took a seat on a dead log. He scanned the bay, looking for Blankenship, as well as the words to explain why he came back. “Andy told me why you were doing this. He confessed to everything.”
“Andy told you he was helping me?”
“Yeah. I had to drag it out of him, but I put the pieces together myself. I knew the two of you were conspiring together.”
“I used to be married to his sister. Man, she was pretty. Looks nothing like Andy,” he laughed and choked at the same time. “She had passion. It was contagious, ya know? Some women are like that. She’d get fired up about things and, well, I guess I just pissed her off too many times.”
“You have a little girl with her?”
The Canadian’s eyes glazed over, and then he looked away to hide his weakness. He cleared his throat of blood and phlegm. “I haven’t been much of a father. Haven’t been in her life since she was a baby.”
He pulled a picture of Sophia out of his pocket. It was the same one Andy had in a frame, but smaller. Paul guessed it was a school portrait based on the cheesy pose and cheap background. The Canadian continued, “She’s still my baby, eh. I thought I’d have more time to make things right, get to see her grow up and give me grandkids someday. I’m not sure how long she’ll live, but I want the rest of the time she has to be special—fun, with memories of us doing things together.”
“I know,” Paul admitted.
“Do you? Do you have kids, Paul?” It was the first time the Canadian called him by name. Paul kept watching over the frozen river bay.
“No. No, I wish I did. My wife and aren’t in any situation to have kids right now—financially.”
“Ha!” the Canadian blurted. “You’ll never be financially ready for kids. No one is. They’re expensive little boogers. But dammit, they’re worth it.”
The Canadian gave him a sober look. “Take some of this money,” he nodded at the case. “Change your situation and start the family you want. Once you hold that precious little bundle in your arms, you’ll completely understand why I’m doing this. You’ll love that child more than anything, and you’d give your left arm to protect them.” He looked at his left arm. The blood had slowed, but the pain advanced as his adrenaline wore off.
“No, you’re going to keep that money. You’re going to reunite with your daughter and make some memories with her. Hopefully, you can save her. I’ll find another way.”
“I’m never going to see my daughter again.” He stared at the picture as if it could talk back to him. “I keep seeing a tombstone in my mind. For days now… I see it, and I know it’s hers. I’ve been using that vision to fuel my fire—to push myself. I’ve dug as deep as I could to find the strength to do this. Hell, I even had to kill a man last night after he tried to rob me.” He spat blood into the fresh snow. “He was just a kid himself. Brought me across the border and then he pulled a gun on me—a gun. Why did he do that?”
“Maybe he didn’t realize how far you’d go to protect what was yours.”
“That was too far. I have to live with his death now, and that’s a shitty thing. The worse part is that that kid probably died for nothing. I probably won’t get this money to Sophia or ever see her again. I’ve failed.”
“No, you haven’t failed. You’ve got the money, and we can get it to her. You just need to stay alive so we can get you medical attention.”
“I’m not going to make it out of these woods, Paul. Blankenship made sure of that.”
“If not, I’ll take the money to Andy. He can take it to his sister.”
“You’re a good guy,” the Canadian admitted. “I’m sorry things happened the way they did. You and your brothers shouldn’t have been caught up in this shit. I imagined no one would be around when that plane went down.”
Paul scanned the wounds on the Canadian’s body,.“Can you walk?”
“I can try.”
“Then let’s get the hell out of here. Andy has medical supplies in his cabin. It’s only a couple minutes from here. Come on, I’ll help you,” Paul grabbed the Canadian’s hand and helped him to his feet. Paul took the hefty case so the Canadian could use his only good arm to lean on Paul’s left shoulder. They started up the hill, toward Andy’s cabin, when a voice began to yell across the ice.
It was Blankenship. Peering from behind a large pine on the other side of the bay. He shouted from the shadows, “I’m coming for my money, you sonavabitches!”
The words seemed to echo in the the Canadian’s ears, thumping his brain, and skewing his balance. He grabbed a small beech tree for stability. The snow and trees blurred around him as he focused on finding the source of the noise. His adrenaline arose again as he watched Blankenship enter the opening and expose himself from the security of the standing timber.
“Do you have any more bullets in that thing?” Paul asked, nodding at the pistol holstered on the Canadian’s side.
“One.”
“One might be all it takes. If we can get Blankenship to follow us in the woods, I can distract him with a couple of shots, and you finish what you started.”
The Canadian nodded in agreement, but looked o
ut at the bodyguard advancing. “What about her?”
Blankenship was not alone. Stacie marched in front of the big man as he held the .22 caliber pistol to the back of her head. His fist held her collar, steering her like a dog caught by Animal Control. The .22 pistol pointing to the back of her head forced her to comply. They crossed the ice silent and slow, keeping their eyes ahead. Stacie’s heart pounded with fear—not just for herself, but for her husband and baby. Her wet cheeks were cold in the wind, and she sniffled as she walked. She couldn’t believe how heavy her boots felt as she heaved one, then the other, over and over to get across the bay. Her stomach spasmed in protest from the exertion, but she was able to keep herself from spilling its contents.
“Come on,” the Canadian insisted. “He can’t use someone we don’t know as leverage. We’ll get him to follows us and ambush him in the woods.”
Paul watched the woman stride across the ice. The way her shoulders rolled, the sway of her hips, and the swing of her arms gave her identity away. Paul would recognize that walk anywhere.
“Actually, I think that’s my wife.” He was calm. His voice was low, and he had an overwhelming sense of defeat. He lowered the shotgun while his complexion went as white as the ground he was standing on. He could feel himself squeezing the stock of the gun so hard his hand began to go numb. As they moved closer, Paul could see the fear in Stacie’s eyes as she stared straight ahead.
How dare he.
How dare that bastard to bring her into this.
Chapter 20 / I’m Coming for You
Paul stood with one foot on the ice, the other on the frozen ground. Blankenship was to his right and the Canadian was to his left. He felt torn in the moment, cursing the predicament he was caught in. The money could save the life of the Canadian’s daughter, or at least give her quality of life for what time remained. She needed the money, sure, but he needed his wife. Would Blankenship let them go if he handed over the money?
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