However, Charlene had already decided that even if he was arrested and convicted, she’d still make sure the footage was released. Everybody needed to know what kind of monster he was. And from what she’d seen of Noah, that would be his worst nightmare.
Everything seemed to be moving at breakneck speed. One minute they were planning the phone calls to Noah, then they were on the plane, and next they were driving the rental car through New Orleans.
Ten minutes into the drive, Marshall pulled the car over at the first phone booth they found and placed his hand on her arm. “You okay?”
The sincerity in his expression had her marveling once again at how lucky she was to have met Marshall. When Peter was torn from her life, she’d plummeted to the depths of what it meant to be truly alone. Now, though, with Marshall at her side, she felt like she was part of a team. Yet it was more than that…they were destined to be together. Her heart squeezed at that wonderful thought, and she placed her hand over his and met his gaze. “I just want this to work.”
“It will.” Determination simmered in his stunning eyes.
She climbed from the car, stepped into the phone booth, and dialed one of the few phone numbers she’d ever memorized. It rang only once.
“Detective Chapel.” His voice was gruff.
“Hello, Detective, it’s Charlene Bailey.”
“Charlene. Where the hell have you been? We’ve been looking for you.”
“I’m sorry. I had some things to attend to.”
“God, girl, you could’ve let me know. I’ve been going out of my mind.”
Her guilt elevated a few notches. “I’m so sorry about that. Anyway, I was wondering if you could help me.”
“You know I will.”
“Thank you. Can you please meet me at Six Flags New Orleans at three o’clock today?”
Her request was met with a silent beat.
“Charlene, what are you up to?”
“It’s…it’s involved. I’ll tell you once you get there. Can you do that?”
“Why don’t you come into the station. We can—”
“No!” She didn’t mean to sound so forceful. “I…I can’t. Please! Just meet us there at three.”
“Us?”
“Can you do that, please?” She ignored his implied question.
“You know that theme park is derelict, right?”
“I’m aware of that.”
“Charlene…”
The way he said it, with a pleading lilt, had the vein in her neck pulsing. “I’ll see you there, Detective.” She hung up the phone and returned to the rental car.
“All good?” Marshall raised his eyebrows.
She nodded. “He tried to talk me out of it. Wanted me to go to the station instead.”
“He sounds like a good man.” Marshall put the car into gear and nudged them back into the bustling New Orleans traffic.
Forty-five minutes later, they drove through the dilapidated parking lot that once had been filled with hundreds of cars. The six flags were long gone, and just the bare flagpoles marked the entrance. Marshall aimed for the poles, which were positioned atop the building that contained the ticket booths. He skirted that building, drove through a couple of gates that were barely hanging on by a hinge, and entered the main street of the abandoned theme park.
Marshall dodged debris as he slowly drove the car to the end of the street and parked out of sight between the crumbling Ferris wheel and what was left of the merry-go-round. They climbed out, and the wind whistling through the rusted rides had her looking up at the giant wheel. A healthy ivy plant had made the struts its home, covering the once colorfully decorated seats in a living macramé.
The trunk popped up, and she moved to the back of the car to help Marshall with their equipment. He slammed the trunk shut, and they walked through the ramshackle central street, back toward the entrance.
They strode past a giant clown’s head that had toppled sideways to rest on its cheek. The clown’s nose was now a gaping hole, and only one eye was open. Charlene shuddered at the sight. She’d been in some pretty creepy places in her life. But this one quickly hit the top of that list. “Why’d you choose this place?”
“It’s deserted.”
“But how did you even know about it?”
“I took a couple of guys out on a fishing charter who used to work here. They told me about it. They lost their jobs here when Hurricane Katrina flooded the park beneath seven feet of water for a month, and it never reopened.”
“It’s a wonder nobody attempted to restore it.”
He kicked a rusted can aside. “Too far gone, I’d say.”
The colorful buildings lining the street must’ve been quite pretty prior to the flood, but the colors had dulled over the years, and plants and graffiti now covered the walls instead.
The structures emitted creaks and groans as if sounding a warning. But they weren’t the only sounds. The wind howled through the shattered windows and doors like ghostly whispers, and Charlene’s mind jumped to the number of murders she’d witnessed in just a few months. Twelve people killed, right before her eyes. The first one being Peter. It suddenly occurred to her that maybe Noah had caused his murder too. It would be another question she’d ask the bastard.
With each step she took toward the front entrance, her mind screamed at her to take Marshall’s hand and march away from all this stupidity.
But at the same time, she couldn’t do that. She needed to follow through with this quest to get justice for her mother’s senseless murder and the world needed to know what a monster Noah Montgomery was. It suddenly occurred to her that Noah might not even turn up, and she glanced over at Marshall. “Do you think he’ll come?”
“I know he’ll come.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Marshall eased into the shade of the ticketing building and seemed to scrutinize its structure. “He flew all the way to Cuba to kill you. Flying to New Orleans is nothing in comparison.”
Her stomach clenched. “Thanks for reminding me.” She said it with the horror it deserved.
He cocked his head. “Did you expect me to ignore it?”
Her shoulders sagged. “No. I guess not.” It was impossible to comprehend that her own father wanted her dead. And she had no idea why. It was another question she’d ask him. She clenched her jaw and tried to push aside her uncertainty about what they were doing. This had to be done.
Marshall reached for her hand. “He will never get his hands on you, Charlene. I promise.”
Every ounce of her breath was taken with his concern, and she leaned into him. When Marshall wrapped his arms around her and squeezed, she knew that although their connection was still so young, it was very, very true. Marshall was the only sanity in a world that was filled with madness, and she hugged herself to him. The pounding of his heart instilled a strength within her that had been waning.
No matter what happened, they would get through this. Together.
He eased back a fraction and kissed her forehead. “I don’t suppose I can talk you out of this?”
“Nope.”
“Hmm. Thought you’d say that. So help me get the gear sorted.”
Marshall peeked into one ticket booth after the other and finally chose the fifth one. “This’ll do the job.” The door was secured by just one hinge, and Marshall grabbed it and yanked it free like it’d been held in place with Scotch Tape.
Charlene peered into the booth while Marshall tossed the door aside. It was a tiny room, about twice the size of a standard shower. But unlike every other window she’d seen so far, the one in this booth was intact. A chair, missing all but one of its castors, was toppled on the floor, and assuming Marshall didn’t want it, she dragged it outside.
Marshall stepped into the booth and ran his hand over the tiny counter, clear
ing it of debris and peeling paint. Then he peered out the window and scanned the parking lot ahead. “This is perfect.”
“Want me to clean the window?”
“No, the less he can see of us, the better.” Marshall put the bag containing the surveillance equipment on the floor, unzipped it, and placed the bits and pieces on the tiny bench positioned in the gap beneath the window. He went to work setting it up.
“What can I do?”
“Pray.”
“Very funny.”
He turned to her, deadpan. “I wasn’t joking.” Marshall turned back to the equipment and cursed under his breath.
She stepped from the room, and as she strolled down the street, studying the ghostly remnants of a once thriving theme park, her empty stomach twitched out a chilling warning. Yet she forced her brain to ignore it. For years, she’d wanted answers to what happened to her when she was a child. Now she had the what, hopefully she’d soon have the why.
Her whole life was a lie. It was time for the truth.
“Shit!” Marshall’s voice boomed from the booth.
She spun to his voice. “What?”
“Someone’s coming.”
Charlene ran to the booth and stepped inside. “Who?”
“We’re about to find out. But I hope like hell it’s the cop, or we’re in deep shit.”
Charlene peered through the dirty glass and watched a dust storm rise up from behind the approaching SUV like a demon.
Marshall clenched his jaw as he unclipped his gun from the secure case and pushed the magazine in until it clipped.
The car skidded on the gravel and pulled to a stop.
The moment had arrived.
Ever since she’d been informed that Peter wasn’t her father, she’d wondered who the man could be. Now, though, as she tried to see through the SUV’s black windows, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know anymore.
Marshall spun to her, fierce determination blazing across his eyes. “No matter what happens, you stay behind me.”
“Okay.”
He clutched her wrist. “Say it, Charlene.”
“I stay behind you.”
“Right behind.”
“Okay. Yes.”
He spun back to looking out the window, and she glanced from Marshall to the car and to the weapon. Each second was simultaneously too fast and too slow. If it was Noah in that car, he was early.
Marshall had planned for everything except that.
Chapter 29
Noah cursed at the sight of the woman jumping into one of the small booths at the entrance to the crumbling theme park. It meant they’d thwarted his plan to beat them to the site and set a trap. He needed a plan B, and he needed it fast. Slowing the car to a crawl, he bounced through dozens of potholes as he drove toward the middle booth.
For two decades, the wretched Cuban disaster had been a cloud over his life. It was time to put an end to it and to put an end to all those involved in it—Claudia, and whoever the man was that she’d shacked up with.
He scanned the area. The empty parking lot surrounding him was worthless as cover. He’d have to use his car. Lucky for him, he’d chosen one with nearly pitch-black windows that’d make it difficult for them to see him inside.
Now all he had to do was lure them from their cover.
He eased the car to within ten yards of the booth and parked sideways, so they couldn’t see through the front windshield. He didn’t shut off the engine, nor did he get out. Instead, he unbuckled and climbed into the passenger seat. If they assumed he was in the driver’s seat, they’d be wrong. Once he was in position, he pressed the button to open the sunroof and was immediately blasted with both the oppressive heat and the blazing sun.
Then he waited.
As did his quarry.
Adrenaline coursed through his veins, and he felt the now-familiar rush that preceded each of these life-changing moments. His senses were heightened. He heard the rustling of leaves as they tumbled over the barren concrete. He smelled the mangy scent of the surrounding swamp. He felt the unbearable heat and cranked up the air-conditioning.
A commanding feeling of calm washed over him, and every second passed in slow motion.
He used the time to analyze the situation.
They wanted something from him. Which meant he had the upper hand. It would only be a matter of time before they spoke. Barely three seconds later, they did.
“Get out of the car, Noah.” A man’s voice boomed from within the booth.
“You take me for a fool, Mr….” Noah hated not knowing his name.
“You are a fool.” A woman’s voice this time, and he knew it would be Claudia.
“Why don’t you come out, Claudia? We can talk.”
“So you can shoot me like that woman in Cuba?”
“I didn’t kill her.”
“You killed my mother.” Her voice was shrill, unhinged.
He paused long enough to infuriate her. “Your mother?”
“Benita Álvarez.” Claudia’s voice rose to a strangled scream.
Noah knew they’d be recording this conversation. But it was futile, as it would be inadmissible in court. Not that it would ever get that far. Once he eliminated the pair of them, he’d save the footage for himself. He was going to enjoy watching his performance later. His lips curled into a grin. “You have me mistaken for someone else.”
“No, I haven’t. You strangled her to death twenty-two years ago.”
“Ahh, but you have no proof.” He was pleased to note that his voice retained the air of authority that he’d practiced to perfection.
“You’re wrong.” This time it was Claudia who paused, and the infuriating wait had him clenching his fist around the butt of his gun.
“My mother bit off your finger.”
He didn’t respond.
Instead, he analyzed the feasibility of shooting either of them through the murky glass of the booth. The wind howled as it tumbled leaves and debris over the wasteland between them. He’d need to take that breeze into consideration when he pulled the trigger.
“Just before you strangled her.” Claudia screamed at him.
Noah’s heart thumped at how much Claudia knew. He adjusted his position on his seat so he could aim the gun out the sunroof.
“Do you know what she did with your finger?”
He raised his left hand up and stared at his missing finger. His mind shot to the moment when it was bitten it off. The pain had blinded him to everything but the blood pouring from his finger and the shock of what she’d done. After that, it was pure rage that had dominated everything.
“My mother swallowed your finger!”
Excruciating pain shot through his missing finger as though the rotten bitch was biting it off again. His heart erupted in a blaze of fury, and he squeezed his fist around the gun and eased up onto his knees.
“That’s right…you stupid bastard.” Claudia burst out laughing. “The Cuban coroner was so fascinated by it that he still has your puny little stub in a jar of formaldehyde in his office.”
In that single, bracing instant, he knew he was in trouble.
They had irrefutable proof.
The holy grail of condemnation.
A parade of images flashed across his mind. Him standing in the courtroom…on the wrong side of the lawyers. His wife and father-in-law glaring at him with hate in their eyes. His hands cuffed behind his back and a hundred reporters jostling to photograph his demise.
Then he pictured himself siting in a putrid concrete cell and the metal bars slamming shut.
His brain jolted into focus. He was not going to jail.
When Claudia’s accomplice joined in with her laughter, Noah wrapped his hand around his weapon, stood up through the sunroof, and pulled the trigger.
Chapter 30
The glass exploded, and Marshall tumbled backward with a spray of blood that burst from his shoulder. Charlene screamed, and icy fear ripped through her as she realized he’d been shot. “No!” She raced to his side. “Marshall!”
“I’m okay.” His eyes were wide. His expression morphed to one of excruciating pain, and his hand clutched his shoulder, where thick blood oozed through his fingers. He was not okay.
A bullet slammed into the wood, inches from her head, and Charlene ducked.
“Run, Charlene!” Marshall spoke through clenched teeth.
“No!”
Marshall hurled backward with a howl of agony, and the gun flew from his hand. Screaming, she crawled to him.
“Marshall!”
“Fuck! Fuck, fuck.” Marshall’s eyes bulged at his forearm.
Fresh blood oozed from a second bullet wound.
“Oh, Jesus! Marshall.” Her world titled out of control as she reached for him.
“Charlene, run! Get out now!”
“I’m not leaving you.”
Another explosion rained glass over them, and she was thrown sideways. A heartbeat later, searing pain shot up her left arm, equally sharp and blunt. It took her a couple of seconds to realize she’d been shot, and an ear-splitting scream tore from her throat.
“Charlene!” Marshall crawled toward her, spilling blood onto the dirty floor between them.
Every movement was in slow motion, as if she’d fallen into a pool of jelly. A line of blood spewed from her left forearm. Marshall’s mouth opened in a cry of desperation. Wood and glass exploded around her as bullet after bullet slammed into the surrounding walls.
Marshall gulped mouthfuls of air, obviously fighting pain as he reached for her. “Run, Charlene. Run!”
She’d brought Marshall here. She’d put him in danger.
Another bullet slammed into the wall near her ear.
An inch closer, and Noah would have finally succeeded in killing her.
Out of Luck Page 27
