by Pamela Cowan
“Okay, I’ll go change and get dinner going. You kids sound starved. You too, ogre,” she said to Tom.
“That’s ogrẻ to you,” said Tom in a terrible French accent. “I zink you need some help, mon amie.”
Just like that, as if a switch had been thrown, all the anger and distance between them was gone. Tom stood up and tentatively reached out. Storm took his hand. Immediately she felt as if she could breathe again.
After dinner the kids were doing homework, the TV was off, and a favored soft rock station was playing softly.
Storm had her hands deep in sudsy water, washing pots, and pans. Tom walked up behind her, lifted the loose strands of hair that had broken free from her French twist, and kissed her neck. The light kisses tickled but also started a slow warming buzz in her stomach.
“No more fights,” Tom said in a whisper against her neck.
“No more fights,” she agreed, and twisted around to kiss him, but caught only the corner of his mouth. “I guess I need more practice,” she said.
“That’s the best line I’ve heard all week,” he said.
“That better be the only line,” she shot back.
“We still have to talk about New Mexico,” Tom said, his expression suddenly serious.
“I know. We will,” she promised.
He accepted her promise and dropped the subject. “I’m going to go help the kids get their homework done. They seem to have so much lately. Hey, is that your phone ringing?”
From the entryway Storm could hear the familiar ringtone of her work cell. She hurried to catch it before it went to voice mail and was just in time.
“Hello.”
“Hey, Storm. It’s Lauren.”
“Oh. Uh.”
“Yeah I know. I’m only supposed to text you, but I was afraid you wouldn’t see it. I’ve got something big for you. Something that will help with that stress you were telling me about. Sort of a present, you might say.”
“Really?” asked Storm, slightly annoyed by the phone call but nonetheless intrigued.
“Yeah, you know that lady from the other building. The one close to where you work? Well, she isn’t going to make you worry anymore.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I got rid of her for you.”
“You did what?” Unbelieving, Storm could only tighten her grip on the phone and wait for confirmation.
“I got rid of her. Ended her. Whatever way you want to say it. You don’t have to worry about her being suspicious or starting something.”
“How the . . .? What the . . .? We need to talk.”
“We are talking.”
“In person. Not on the phone. We need to meet somewhere. Where are you?”
“I’m home. Just got here. “
“Well turn around. I’ll meet you somewhere. Gaston’s sort of half way between, us but there’s not really any place to meet where the whole town won’t notice.”
“Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind driving somewhere that makes it easy for you.”
“How about Providence Hospital on Barnes, the East Pavilion. Do you know where that is?”
“No.”
“I’ll text you the address. I’ll meet you in the lobby and from there we’ll find a quiet place to talk.” She was sure the chill in her voice was traveling through the phone line.
“Okay,” said Lauren, not putting up a battle. “I’ll meet you, but you’re going to be happy, I promise.”
“We’ll see,” said Storm, and hung up the phone.
“Everything okay?” Tom asked as she walked into the family room, where homework had been stowed in backpacks and the television was again in full roar.
“Yes, just a friend of a friend. She just found out she has a job interview with my department and was hoping I could meet her for a drink and advice. I’m assuming she’s buying the drinks and I’m providing the advice.”
“You want to go?” asked Tom. She could tell he’d rather she stay home now that they’d crossed that invisible bridge and reconnected.
“Not really, but she’s a potential to take Veronica’s job, which means I can keep my part-time status. Also, she might be someone I can persuade to take the job full-time for a year or so. That way I could take a leave of absence and maybe, I don’t know, hang out somewhere in New Mexico with some hot guy I know.”
“Can I get your coat?” Tom asked.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ANOTHER NIGHT, ANOTHER rainstorm. The wipers beat back and forth, and in time with them one question rang through Storm’s mind. What did she do?
Storm got to the hospital at a little after eight. She parked rather badly in the drop off zone. She didn’t expect to be there long, just long enough to hustle Lauren into her car. Then they’d drive somewhere and have a talk. Thinking about what Lauren had said on the phone, that she’d killed someone to reduce Storm’s stress, horrified her.
The killings had always been about one thing, finding justice for people who had been victimized. Finding the abusers and making them pay. Howard had coined the term “justice killings,” but then his urges had taken him elsewhere. Instead of being about justice, the killings—no, murders—had devolved until they were all about satisfying Howard’s sick lust.
Storm believed that unlike Howard, Lauren was not a dangerous psychopath. She was a woman who had been treated badly and had empathy for others in similar circumstances. Just like Storm, she couldn’t stand idly by and do nothing while other victims were being hurt. That was why she had to kill the nurse. Who knew how many had suffered because of her, or how many would have if they hadn’t intervened and done what had to be done?
The nurse’s death had been an execution, a righteous kill. That’s what the cops called it when they shot someone in the line of duty. Killing the nurse was no different. A righteous kill. She liked that.
But now Lauren had done something bad. Something that crossed the line, and Storm had no idea what to do about it.
It was nearly nine before Lauren arrived. Storm saw her coming toward the doors and strode across the lobby. Before Lauren could get the door fully open, Storm had stepped out, jerked her chin in the direction of her car, and said, “Let’s go.”
Hunched into her bright pink rain jacket, Lauren shrugged and followed. Storm hit the unlock button on her key fob and climbed into her car. She put on her seat belt, started the car, flipped on the wipers, and pulled away from the curb before Lauren had a chance to put on her seat belt.
Storm parked at the far end of the closest parking lot. It gave a wide view of the hospital complex. The towering structures seemed like the vast bulk of an ocean liner, sailing on an ocean of black asphalt and blocking out the sky.
“I can’t wait to tell you . . .” Lauren began.
Storm held up her hand. Unbuckled her seat belt, then sat for moment, gathering her emotions and watching the storm wash sheets of rain against the brick exterior of the two closest buildings, twin structures, eleven stories high. The rain-streaked walls looked as if they were covered with black mold. The building would have seemed ominous, even menacing, but for the rows and rows of comforting yellow light from the windows and the vivid flash of blue lights that lined the arms of a crane sitting idle on the roof of one of them.
Taking a deep breath, Storm asked the question that had been repeating itself in the back of her mind since getting Lauren’s phone call.
“What did you do?”
“You’ll thank me.”
“Don’t make me ask again,” Storm said, swiveling in her seat so she could make eye contact. Lauren looked a child on Christmas morning, practically bouncing up and down in her seat.
“Remember you telling me how stressed you are?” Lauren asked.
“Sure.”
“You told me part of what was stressing you out was that woman who works in the building across from yours. You said she was staring at you and you were sure she was suspicious about you.”
“Yes. What about he
r?”
“You don’t have to worry about her anymore. I took care of her for you.”
“You did what? How?”
“I followed her for a couple days. Found out where she lived. Waited until she was alone. Knocked on her door. Had my gun out when she opened it. Man, she wasn’t easy to convince. I almost had to shoot her to put the neck wire on. Finally did it though, and then got her tied to one of her dining room chairs.”
Storm was imagining the scene. The fiery Latina with the poison tongue. She wouldn’t have given up easily, and once she had, she would have been vigilant, waited for an opportunity.
“It wasn’t easy,” Lauren said, echoing Storm’s thoughts, “but she could tell I wasn’t bluffing. Told her I’d shoot her in the face, make her not so pretty.
“She got it in her head I was trying to rip her off. Kept telling me where she kept her jewelry. I could see she wanted me out of there fast. Finally figured out her kiddos must be coming home from school or something. I let her think she was right. Asked her where her purse was. Soon as she relaxed a little I got behind her, slammed the insulin in. Put it in her arm this time. The normal way.”
Storm noticed that Lauren was breathing fast, almost panting as she recounted her time with Celine.
“Took about forty-five minutes before she passed out,” Lauren shared. “Dragged her out to her car in the garage. Range Rover. Nice tinted glass. No one could even tell who was driving unless they were right up on me, and there wasn’t anyone around. Kind of a bitch getting her into the car, but I managed. Shoulder’s kinda sore though.” She rubbed at her right shoulder and then rolled it a couple times.
“Where did you take her?” Storm asked, anxiety making her voice low and raspy.
“Gaston.”
“But we just agreed. Gaston’s such a small town the people who live there are hyper aware of strangers.”
“I know. I know,” said Lauren holding up her hands and fluttering them as if to wave off Storm’s concerns. “I didn’t go into the town. See, as soon as I decided to do this for you, I knew I’d need a place to hide the body. It’s not like I have a key to that building. So I got on Craigslist and did a search for private and secluded. Then I looked at the properties that came up. The best was this almost forty acre property. It had been on the market over 100 days, and they’d been putting in roads, so there was a pretty easy way in. Something my car could handle.”
“And you dumped her there?”
“Better. I buried her. Yeah, yeah, I know, you don’t think I look big enough to dig a hole. I didn’t. But I did find a big old mountain of gravel, and I sort of scraped it down over her. Anyway, no one will find her for a long time. I took her car back and parked it. Left the keys in, got mine, and drove away, nice and slow.”
Storm sighed, scrubbed her hands across her face.
“I don’t want to even think about who might have seen you in her car, and who might mention it when she doesn’t show up. But I do have to tell you that someone will find her. Eventually someone will move that pile of gravel, and who knows what you’ve left behind.”
“I didn’t leave anything.”
“You can’t know that. I told you before. No bodies.”
“But, Storm, I did the best I could. Plus, I did it for you.” Lauren’s voice was full of hurt surprise. It reminded her of Joel asking for praise after he’d stomped through the kitchen in muddy boots with a handful of dandelions clutched in his hands. Lauren knew she’d done something wrong, and yet she thought she’d done something right. She was confused and on the way to angry.
“Can you find this place again?” Storm asked.
“Sure, it’s still programmed in the navigator on my phone,” said Lauren.
“You’ve got a direct connection to where you hid a body on your phone? Jesus. How long to get there?”
Lauren thought about it. “Maybe half an hour or so.”
The trip actually took fifty-two minutes. Storm knew that because she glanced at the car clock just as she slowed to take the corner when Lauren yelled, “Here, here, turn right here.”
The low slung car bounced hard, crossing the ruts until the tires dropped into them. From there it was simply a matter of keeping the car riding slightly up the side so as not to tear the muffler out on the berm.
After a few yards, even this wasn’t necessary as the road flattened out and she felt her tires crunching into deep gravel. If she’d hit it going fast no doubt they’d have slid, but the night was dark and Storm drove slowly and cautiously.
Half a crawling mile later, the headlights picked up a pile of gravel with a cratered top. It was twice as tall as Storm. “This it?” she asked.
“Yep. Go around to the back.”
Storm swung the car in a tight loop and came to a stop, headlights shining on the gravel. Moss grew on this side, except for one area that looked like a fresh spill. Storm suspected this was where Lauren must have dug in her shovel to pull gravel down over Celine’s body.
Dust swirled in the headlights. Storm considered shutting them off in case there was some neighbor keeping an eye on the place, then decided that being able to see would make their search much faster.
“Come on,” she told Lauren. “Let’s get this done.”
Trying not to run, Storm popped the trunk and spread out the blue tarp she kept rolled up in one corner. In her trunk she also carried a canvas bag filled with an assortment of gear, supposedly for roadside emergencies. Though much of the contents had been selected for a very different purpose.
“Here, take the shovel,” Storm half whispered. They had stopped by Lauren’s car long enough to transfer the shovel from its trunk to Storm’s.
“Wait, I’ve got some gloves for us.” Storm pulled two pairs of leather work gloves from the canvas bag and handed one set to Lauren.
Storm followed Lauren to the base of the gravel hill and waited until she began to prod around at the base. Then she bent to help and began to scoop double handfuls of gravel to the side.
Nothing.
“Is this the right place?”
“I think so,” said Lauren. “Maybe a little farther this way?”
They moved two feet to the right and began again. Then they moved to the left of where they’d first started.
Finally Lauren stood up, stretching her back. The light from the headlights made her skin look sallow, her eyes sunken, skeletal. Swallowing hard, Storm looked at Lauren and said, “She’s not here.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THEY SAT INSIDE THE CAR. The lights were off, which made Storm more comfortable. At least the random neighbor would be less likely to come check out what all the lights were about. Still, there was no comfort in realizing that the body had disappeared.
“Take me through it again,” she told Lauren. “And this time, tell me every single detail.”
“I already told you,” Lauren whined. There was a dark smudge of dirt on her cheek. “I had her tied up at the table. Wire around her neck tied to the top slat of the chair. Had her arms down at her sides and had duct taped them there. She wasn’t going anywhere. I injected two vials of insulin. After a while she got all shaky, then her eyes rolled up and she passed out.”
“Passed out, not dead?” Storm asked.
“Passed out and on the way to dead. For sure not going anywhere,” Lauren explained. “I dragged her out to her car. Couldn’t get her into the back. Too high and she was too heavy. The back door was closer to the ground. It was hard, but I managed to get her onto the floor in the back. That’s when I messed up my shoulder. I covered her up with a blanket from the house.”
“Then you drove out here.”
“Yes. I pulled up right beside the gravel, then I opened the door. My arm hurt so I got in back and used my feet to sort of push and kick her out. She came out head first. She had to be dead or she’d have moved or something. Then I came around, got the shovel out of the back where I put it, and I dug a bunch of gravel out. It was pretty easy. The
stuff just sort of fell down the hill once it got started.”
Storm tugged at the cuffs of her sleeves as she thought about it. “There was no crime tape, no cops. No one has even come out to see what we’re doing here. We’d have seen headlights, heard footsteps, something. I don’t think anyone found the body and moved it.”
“So where the hell is it?” asked Lauren.
“I think she’s alive, somewhere out there.” She pointed into the darkness that loomed around them. A darkness filled with strange shapes and one woman, left for dead.
Lauren shivered. “I don’t want to go out there again.”
“No choice. We have to find her,” said Storm.
Lauren nodded.
“Reach in the glove box. There’s a flashlight in there. There’s another smaller one in the trunk. I’ll get it.”
The women climbed from the car, Lauren holding the flashlight. The light it cast only seemed to emphasize the shadows around them. The rain had stopped, but an irregular chorus of drops falling from the mostly bare-leaved trees played around them.
Unlike Lauren, Storm hadn’t seen a photo of the area from the air, but she realized that the forty acres was probably once part of a larger farm. By the thin growth of haphazard trees and deep underbrush, she assumed the ground was not worked. Maybe it lay too deeply in the valley, was too waterlogged most of the year. Or maybe it had been timbered, the trees now cut and hauled away, leaving only skinny trees and brush not worth harvesting.
Taking the smaller but brighter flashlight from the trunk, Storm turned and played the beam across the ground.
Lauren was looking around at the bottom of the gravel hill. She took the shovel and poked it into the gravel a few time, but her attempts were halfhearted. There was nothing there.
Storm swung her light past Lauren, into the grass and brush near her feet. “Look,” she said. “The grass is bent.” Then: “Stay behind me.”
Lauren moved eagerly to comply. Storm moved her light closer to the ground. She’d been right, the grass was flattened, as if a weight had rested on it. Maybe a deer had decided to bed down there, but she didn’t see any tracks or other sign. Of course the rain might have been heavy enough to wipe out any tracks.
