by Robin Cook
Kim breathed a sigh of relief. He went back to the woodpile to finish loading up.
Tracy had climbed the stairs, feeling a twinge of nostalgia. It had been some time since she’d been on the second floor of the house. Outside of Becky’s room, she’d paused, gazing at the closed door and wondering if she dare enter. Compromising, she merely opened the door and stood on the threshold.
Becky’s room had not changed. Since Tracy and Kim shared custody, Tracy had gotten new furniture for her daughter and left the old where it was. Becky didn’t mind and preferred to leave what she considered her childhood objects in her old room. She’d not even taken her stuffed animal collection.
The idea that Becky was gone was inconceivable to Tracy. She’d been the center of Tracy’s life, particularly after Tracy’s relationship with Kim had deteriorated.
Tracy took a deep breath and pulled the door closed. As she walked down toward the master suite, she wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes with her knuckle. She knew from her professional experience how difficult the next few months would be for her and for Kim.
Tracy entered the master bath directly from the hall instead of going around through the bedroom. Once inside, she flicked on the light and closed the door behind her. She surveyed the room. It wasn’t nearly as clean as it had always been when she lived in the house, yet it was still beautiful, with its granite-topped vanity and marble shower.
Leaning into the shower stall, she turned on the water and adjusted the showerhead to deliver a pulsating jet. Then she opened the generous closet and got out a large bath towel along with a Turkish robe. Placing them on the vanity, she began to remove her damp clothes.
Carlos heard the shower and smiled. This job was going to be easier than he’d imagined. He was standing in the walk-in closet in the master bedroom, intending to wait until Kim unknowingly opened the door. But hearing the shower running, he thought it would be better to corner the doctor in such a conveniently confined space. Escape would be impossible.
Carlos cracked the door and a sliver of pale light fell across his face. He looked out. The bedroom was still mostly dark with the only light coming from the bathroom. Carlos was pleased about this as well. It meant he would not have to worry about being seen as he approached the bathroom. For what he had to do, surprise was an important element.
Carlos opened the door wide enough to step out into the room. He had his knife in his right hand.
Moving like a cat advancing on its prey, Carlos inched forward. With each step, he could see progressively more of the bathroom’s interior through the open passageway connecting the rooms. He saw a hand flash by and drop clothing onto the counter.
Taking one more step, Carlos had a full view of the bathroom, and he froze. It wasn’t Kim. It was a strikingly lithe, sexy woman in the process of unhooking her bra. In an instant, her soft, white breasts were revealed. The woman then hooked her thumbs beneath the elastic of her panties and pulled them off.
Carlos was transfixed by this unexpected but welcome spectacle, as Tracy turned her back toward him and climbed into the billowing mist coming from the shower stall. She closed the moisture-streaked glass door behind her, and threw her towel over a bar at the shower’s rear.
Carlos moved forward as if drawn to a siren. He wanted a better view.
Tracy put her hand under the water spray then pulled it clear. It was much too hot, which was what she expected. It had been her intent to turn the shower stall into a modified steam bath.
Reaching behind the stream of water, she adjusted the mixing valve. While she waited for the water temperature to change, she glanced at the soap dish and noticed it was empty. The bar was out at the sink.
Tracy opened the door to get the soap when a flicker of light caught her attention. It had come from the bedroom. At first she couldn’t believe her eyes, and she blinked. There was the spectral image of a man in black standing just within the penumbra of the bathroom light. The flash had come from the blade of an enormous knife in the man’s right hand.
For a beat the two people stared at each other, Tracy in shocked horror and Carlos in libidinous interest.
Tracy was the first to react. She let out a horrendous scream as she yanked the shower door shut. Then she snatched the tubular towel bar from its brackets and passed it through the U-shaped handle of the heavy glass door to prevent it from opening.
Carlos reacted by springing forward into the bathroom. He wanted to get to her before her scream brought Kim. Switching the knife to his left hand, he grasped the handle of the shower door and yanked. Frustrated by not being able to get inside, he put up a foot to give himself more leverage. The light tubular towel bar slowly dented under his effort and began to bend.
When Tracy’s scream sounded through the house, Kim was on his way up the cellar stairs with his armload of firewood. Already on edge from the run-in with the mice, Kim’s heart leaped into his throat. He dropped the firewood with a tremendous clatter as the logs tumbled back down the stairs, knocking all sorts of things off the steps that had been inappropriately stored there.
Afterward Kim would not even remember how he got through the kitchen, dining room, foyer, and up the stairs. As he reached the upper hallway, he heard Tracy scream again, and he redoubled his efforts. He hit the thin, paneled bathroom door at a full run and shattered it on his way through.
Kim burst into the bathroom and skid on the shag rug as he tried to stop. He saw Carlos with his foot up against the glass shower stall, apparently trying to open it. He saw the knife and immediately realized he should have brought something to defend himself.
Carlos reacted by spinning around and slashing out with the knife. The tip of the blade caught Kim across the bridge of his nose as he backed up.
Carlos tossed the knife into his right hand and turned his full attention to Kim. Kim’s eyes were glued to the knife as he backed up toward the broken door to the hall.
Tracy struggled with the dented towel bar to extract it from the shower-door handle. When she finally was able to do it, Kim and Carlos had disappeared out into the hallway. She grasped the towel bar at one end and frantically pushed out of the shower. Naked, she rushed after the two men.
Carlos was still forcing Kim to back up by menacing him with his blade. Kim had picked up a broken door stile and was using it in a vain attempt to counter Carlos’s repeated thrusts. Blood from the cut over Kim’s nose was running down his face.
Without hesitation, Tracy ran up behind Carlos and clubbed him several times over the head with the towel bar. The hollow tube was not enough to hurt Carlos, but he had to defend himself against the repeated blows. He turned around to take a few swipes at Tracy who immediately backed up.
Kim took the opportunity to grab the leg of a small console table. He ripped the table from the wall and then smashed it over the banister to free the leg. By the time Carlos turned to face him, Kim was brandishing the leg like a truncheon.
With Kim on one side and Tracy on the other, Carlos decided that his lethal weapon was trumped. He bolted down the stairs.
Kim followed, with Tracy close behind.
Carlos threw open the front door and ran down across the front lawn. Kim was close behind, but he stopped when Tracy yelled for him. He looked back. She was standing in the doorway.
“Come back,” Tracy yelled. “It’s not worth it.”
Kim turned in time to see Carlos leap into a truck parked in the shadows. An instant later, exhaust billowed out of the tailpipe, and the vehicle lurched forward and picked up speed.
Kim hurried back up to the house and pushed open the door. Tracy was standing in the foyer. She’d pulled on her coat to cover her nakedness.
Kim enveloped her in his arms. “Are you okay?” he asked urgently.
“You’re the one who’s hurt,” Tracy said. The laceration that stretched across Kim’s nose and into one eyebrow was gaping and still bleeding.
Kim let go of Tracy to step into the powder room where he exam
ined himself in the mirror. He was surprised to see how much blood was involved. Over his shoulder, he saw Tracy’s face. She’d come up behind him.
“Gosh, it was close,” Kim said, redirecting his attention to his wound. “This could have been serious. First he cut my hand, and now right between the eyes.”
“Are you suggesting this was the same man who attacked you last night?” Tracy asked with astonishment.
“There’s no doubt,” Kim said. “I would have had trouble describing him, but I didn’t have any trouble recognizing him.”
Tracy shuddered and then couldn’t stop. Kim could see in the mirror that she was shivering despite her coat.
Kim spun around and grasped her shoulders. “What’s the matter? You’re okay, aren’t you? I mean, you didn’t get cut or anything?”
“Physically I’m all right,” Tracy managed. “It’s just the reality of what happened is finally dawning on me. That man wanted to kill us.”
“He wanted to kill me,” Kim said. “I have a feeling you were a surprise, and enough of one to have saved my life. Thank God you weren’t hurt.”
Tracy twisted out of Kim’s grasp. “I’ll call the police,” she said on her way to the family room.
Kim caught up to her, and grabbing her arm, he pulled her to a stop. “Don’t bother to call the police,” he said.
Tracy eyed Kim’s hand clasped around her upper arm then looked up into his face. She was incredulous. “What do you mean, don’t bother?” she questioned.
“Come on,” Kim urged, gently pulling her back toward the stairs. “Let’s get my gun. I doubt the guy will be back, but there’s no sense in taking any chance of not being prepared.”
Tracy held back. “Why don’t you want to call the police?” she questioned. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“They won’t do anything,” Kim said. “We’ll end up spending a lot of time for nothing. Undoubtedly they’ll attribute this episode to a failed burglary, whereas we know what it is about.”
“We do?” Tracy asked.
“Of course,” Kim said. “I said it was the same guy from Higgins and Hancock. Obviously what I was afraid had happened to Marsha, did happen, and the people responsible, whether they’re from Higgins and Hancock or the meat industry in general, are afraid of me.”
“That seems like all the more reason to call the police,” Tracy said.
“No!” Kim said emphatically. “Not only won’t they do anything, they might cause trouble. Above all, I don’t want them interfering in my attempt to get evidence for Kelly Anderson. In their eyes, I’m already a felon. They think I’m a nutcase.”
“They don’t think I’m a nutcase,” Tracy said.
“They might,” Kim said. “As soon as you tell them you’ve been spending time with me.”
“You think so?” Tracy questioned. That was a point she’d not considered.
“Come on,” Kim urged. “Let’s get the gun.”
Tracy followed Kim out to the foyer. They started up the stairs. She was confused but for the moment allowed Kim’s determination to sway her. Yet the attack by the man with the knife terrified her.
“I’m having serious second thoughts about your getting more involved in all this,” Tracy said.
“Not me,” Kim said. “I feel even more committed. Any residual benefit of doubt I’d felt has flown out the window now that I know what they’re willing to do to protect themselves.”
They passed the broken door to the bathroom. Tracy could hear the shower still running. She shuddered anew at the image of the killer separated from her by a mere layer of glass.
Tracy followed Kim into the bedroom. He went directly to the bedside table and took out a small Smith & Wesson thirty-eight-calibre pistol. He checked the cylinder. It was loaded. He slipped the gun into his jacket pocket and looked over at the open door to the walk-in closet.
“That prick must have been hiding in there,” Kim said. He walked over and switched on the light. Most of the drawers had been emptied onto the floor. Kim pulled out the drawer where he kept his minimal jewelry. “That’s nice,” he added. “He helped himself to my father’s Piaget.”
“Kim, I think we should forget about this whole thing,” Tracy said. “I don’t think you should try to get a job in Higgins and Hancock.”
“I don’t have any choice at this point,” Kim said. “I’m not going to give up my father’s watch without a fight.”
“This is no time for jokes,” Tracy said. “I’m being serious. It’s too dangerous.”
“What would you have us do?” Kim asked. “Move away to some foreign country?”
“That’s a thought,” Tracy said.
Kim laughed mirthlessly. “Wait a sec,” he said, “I was just kidding. Where would you want to move?”
“Someplace in Europe,” Tracy said. “I had another conversation with Kathleen after the three of us talked. She told me there were some countries, like Sweden, where the food is not contaminated.”
“Seriously?” Kim questioned.
“That’s what she said,” Tracy offered. “They may pay a little more for the extra scrutiny, but they’ve decided it’s worth it.”
“And you’d seriously think of going to live in another country?” Kim asked.
“I hadn’t thought about it until you mentioned it,” Tracy said. “But yes, I’d consider it. Given what happened to Becky, I’d like to be public about it—use the move to make a statement about the food situation in this country. And it certainly would be a lot less risky.”
“I suppose,” Kim said. He thought about the idea for a moment, but then shook his head. “I think running away is too much of a cop-out. For Becky’s sake, I’m going to see this to the bitter end.”
“Are you sure you’re not doing this just to avoid coming to grips with Becky’s death?” Tracy asked. She took a nervous breath. She knew she was touching a sensitive area. The old Kim would have reacted with rage.
Kim didn’t answer immediately. When he did, his voice didn’t sound angry. “I’ve admitted as much already, but I think I’m doing this for Becky’s memory as well. In that sense, part of her legacy would be preventing other kids from sharing her fate.”
Tracy was touched. She went up to Kim and put her arms around him. He truly seemed to be a different man.
“Come on,” Kim urged. “Get out of that coat and back into your clothes. We’ll get the stuff we bought and get the hell out of here.”
“Where will we go?” Tracy asked.
“First to the hospital,” Kim said. “I have to get this laceration sutured up, or I’ll be looking at it the rest of my life. Once that’s done, we can go on to your house if you wouldn’t mind. I think we’ll feel a lot safer there than we will here.”
“Now, who the hell is that?” Bobby Bo Mason asked. He and his wife, along with their two children, were having a small Sunday night dinner of sirloin steaks, double-baked potatoes, peas, and corn muffins. Their chewing concentration had been broken by the front-door chimes.
Bobby Bo lifted the tip of his napkin to blot the corners of his lips. The other end of the napkin was tucked into his shirt just below his sizable Adam’s apple. He looked up at the clock. It was just a few minutes shy of seven.
“Want me to get it, dear?” Darlene asked. Darlene was Bobby Bo’s third wife and mother of his youngest children. He also had two kids at the state agricultural school.
“I’ll get it,” Bobby Bo grumbled. He pushed back from the table, stuck out his lantern jaw, and headed for the front door. He wondered who had the nerve to ring his bell during dinner, but he guessed it had to be important because whoever it was had gotten through security down at the gate.
Bobby Bo pulled open the door. It was Shanahan O’Brian. The man was literally holding his hat in his hand.
“You don’t look happy,” Bobby Bo said.
“I’m not,” Shanahan admitted. “It’s not good news.”
Bobby Bo glanced over his shoulder to make
sure Darlene hadn’t followed him to the door.
“Come on into the library,” Bobby Bo said. He stepped aside to let Shanahan enter. Then he preceded his security head into the library. He closed the door after them.
“All right,” Bobby Bo said. “What’s the scoop?”
“I just had a call from Carlos,” Shanahan said. “He didn’t get the doctor.”
“I thought this guy was supposed to be some kind of ace with a knife,” Bobby Bo complained.
“That’s what I’d been told,” Shanahan said. “Carlos insists this doctor is just lucky. He broke into the doctor’s house. He’d been told that the doctor lived alone, but when the doctor came home this time he apparently had a woman with him.”
“Big deal,” Bobby Bo said. “This Carlos is supposed to be a killer. What difference does it make if a woman was there?”
“She apparently confused him,” Shanahan said. “He caught her naked and . . .”
“Enough,” Bobby Bo said, raising his hand. “I don’t want to hear any more details. The fact of the matter is this amateur wetback botched it up.”
“That’s the long and short of it,” Shanahan said.
“Damn!” Bobby Bo said. He slapped the edge of his desk and began to pace and loudly curse.
Shanahan let his boss blow off some steam. He’d learned over the years it was best to say as little as possible when Bobby Bo was irritated.
“Well,” Bobby Bo said, while still walking back and forth in front of the fireplace. “This all goes to show how stupid it is to save a few bucks by relying on a novice. So much for the vaunted Protection Committee. Let’s call the professional up in Chicago and get him down here ASAP to straighten out this mess. What’s his name again?”
“Derek Leutmann,” Shanahan said. “But he is expensive. I think we should let Carlos have one more crack at it.”
“How expensive?” Bobby Bo asked.
“At least five K,” Shanahan said.
“Hell, five K is cheap if it prevents another major meat recall,” Bobby Bo said. “I mean, we’re talking about hundreds of millions of dollars, if not the viability of the industry as we know it, if the public learns the true extent of this E. coli problem. It’ll be a thousand times worse than James Garner having to have bypass surgery after touting meat for us.” Bobby Bo giggled at his own joke.
