Taken on Thanksgiving

by Annabelle Winters

  11

  ONE MONTH LATER

  SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA

  AMY

  “Best I can tell, the Raffs sold their house too, just like I did. Guess everyone just wanted to move on.” I pause a moment. “And maybe we should move on too, Angus,” I add, putting on my oversized sunglasses as I stand outside the Internet cafe and shake my head at Angus and the boys sitting on the curb and eating ice-cream like we’re not on the run from fucking Interpol. Of course, Angus is right in that we’re not exactly the top priority for the CIA. It’s not even a given that the FBI would even know that we’ve left the USA. Sure, they’d have considered the possibility, given that Angus is Australian. They probably alerted the Aussie authorities. Maybe they ran searches on passenger lists for all flights into Australia’s major airports. Hell, maybe they even tried fancy stuff like facial recognition programs scanning through all the video footage from airport cameras. But there are limits to how much time and money they can spend to chase a family that at the end of the day aren’t killers, aren’t terrorists, aren’t really threats in any serious way. Angus is right. We really might be home free.

  Yeah, home free if not for this dumb obsession with finding that ring, I think as I see Angus’s face tighten when I break the news that we have no idea where the Raffs went, whether they actually have the ring, whether they’re even still alive! “Listen, Angus. We have more serious stuff to deal with than . . . than revenge!”

  “This isn’t about revenge,” Angus says, squinting up at me, vanilla ice-cream all over his beard. “It’s about getting back what’s mine.” He blinks and exhales. “Getting back what’s yours, Amy.” Finally he glances at our happy sons. “And what will one day be theirs.”

  I frown as I think back to that crazy Thanksgiving all those years ago, when all of this started. What did it start with? It started with Mrs. Raff inviting her long-lost, about-to-be-released-from-prison nephew to dinner, right? And what did she say before shit got crazy? Something about being cut of a will, about Angus inheriting everything.

  “Is that what you’re thinking about?” I say, finally sitting on the curb next to him and leaning in for a lick of the rapidly melting ice-cream. “The inheritance your Aunt Raff seemed to think was worth something?”

  Angus’s face tightens and finally he nods. “A little bit, yeah. Ordinarily I wouldn’t give a fuck. But the reality is that money is important, Amy. I have sons to think about. I have you to think about. I want more kids too.” He grins. “A fuckload more kids.”

  I snicker and nestle up to him, but I understand the seriousness. Mom sent us off with pretty much all the cash she could pull out. Not only was it my wedding gift before my actual wedding but also my inheritance before Mom actually died! Bless her soul. I’m so fucking grateful for what she did to send me off on my journey, towards my happy ending. Thank you, Mom. Thank you for being my mom.

  But now I’m a mom, I think as I rub my eyes and focus on the present, on the future, on my family. The past month has felt like a dream, but reality is slowly setting in. And a lot of reality is about money. We have a tiny pay-by-the-week place in a cheap part of town. Ice-cream treats and Internet cafes aside, we’re very frugal, with Angus and I sometimes skipping meals if we’re not crazy hungry. I can stretch our money out for a few months at this rate. But then what? Australia isn’t some emerging nation with loose labor laws. Sure, we could probably find someone who’ll pay us under the table. But is that sustainable? If we get caught it’s more than just a slap on the wrist and a fine. It’s serious shit. And Mom could end up getting into trouble too if we get shipped back to the US.

  “What did your parents leave you, anyway?” I ask finally. “What about the house you grew up in?”

  Angus shakes his head. “Mum sold it after Dad died. Aunt Raff had already married and moved to America by then. It wasn’t much money. Property was far inland, outside of Canberra, rough and rocky land. No good for farming or anything. No fresh water either.” He shrugs again. “Pretty sure Mum sent Aunt Raff half the money she got.” He sighs. “She was really good that way. Fair and honest.”

  “She sounds lovely. What happened to you?” I tease softly, leaning closer to him as we talk through our next move. But for some reason that anxiety is giving way to excitement, like I can feel the answer hiding just around the corner, like we just need to reach for it.

  Angus chuckles and puts one arm around me, stuffing the rest of the ice-cream into his mouth and then gathering our sons up on his broad lap. “Haha. You’re a criminal too, I should remind you,” he says. But then he grimaces as if he’s trying to think back. “So nah, Mum didn’t leave me much money when she died. Just Granny’s ring. Said that was the most precious thing she owned, that Granny gave it to her in secret, told her to give it to me—the only grandchild. It was for my woman, Amy. For my bride.” His voice wavers just enough for me to hear the emotion that’s whipping through him as he looks at me with those green eyes. “For you.”

  I take a long breath and breathe in his masculine scent, savor the moment as I try to remember that we’re close, so close to the end, that it’s right there in front of us somehow. “OK, let’s think about this,” I say finally. “So let’s say there’s some inheritance from your Granny that you didn’t know about. If your Mum didn’t tell you, it means even she didn’t know about it, right?”

  Angus nods slowly. “Right. Sure.”

  “And Aunt Raff was the older sister?”

  “Yup.”

  “And your family grew up in that house, on that land?”

  “Yes, at least for a couple of generations,” says Angus. “Where are you going with this?”

  I blink as I try to connect the dots, speculate on what’s buried in the past, buried out there somewhere. “Your Granny’s wedding ring . . .” I say absentmindedly. “That means your Grandpa gave it to her?”

  Angus nods.

  “Where did your Grandpa get the ring?”

  Angus blinks and cocks his head like he’s thinking back . . . way back. “I think he . . . I think he made it, actually.”

  I widen my eyes. “He made a diamond ring? Where would he get a diamond from, Angus? Especially if you said you guys weren't rich?”

  Angus shrugs. “Well, it’s a tiny diamond. Might not even be real.”

  I shake my head as if to clear it, and something comes to me as I concentrate. “So Aunt Raff waits ten years for you to get out of jail before inviting you over for dinner with the intention of killing you. You think that makes sense?”

  “Well, killing me would make her the only living relative,” he says. “But it does seem like a long time to wait—especially if she knew about some inheritance already. And hell, if she knew about it, she could’ve certainly tried some legal means in the Australian courts to claim some of it while I was in prison.”

  I sit up straight like I’ve been struck by lightning. “Well, maybe she did try!” I blurt out, getting up and heading back to the Internet cafe so fast I almost trip over some woman’s tiny dog. “Sorry!” I shout to the woman, pulling off my sunglasses as I run to the computer and start typing, hoping to the heavens that Australia has the same kind of freedom of information laws as we do in the States.

  12

  SOMEWHERE OUTSIDE CANBERRA

  SOMEWHERE UNDER THE GROUND

  ANGUS

  “A sorry state,” I say as I shine the flashlight up at the dilapidated wooden beams supporting the rocky roof of the tunnel leading to the main mine.

  Yes, mine!

  A diamond mine!

  My diamond mine!

  Well, actually the Australian government’s—which has clearly sucked all the worth out of it and decided to give it back to the Earth. Nobody’s been here in years, it seems. Obviously this wasn’t a diamond mine of the kind that finances armies.

  Though it is one that drove an old wo
man to wait ten years for her nephew to get out of prison and deliver to her the one thing in his possession that could establish a claim to the mine—and to the revenues generated from the mine.

  I take a deep breath of the stale subterranean air, shining the flashlight at Amy’s boobs and then down at my crotch.

  “Stop it, you pervert!” she says with a giggle, trying to grab the light as I dance away from her and do it again.

  We took a train to Canberra and then paid to put the boys in day-care while we made the trip out here. It’s on the land that my family used to own. Land that was sold for pretty much nothing. Land that had millions of dollars worth of straight-up treasure buried underground.

  Treasure that clearly my Grandpa knew about.

  And treasure that he decided needed to stay buried.

  “I don’t remember too much,” I told Amy when her research turned up the truth: That Aunt Raff had found out that diamond deposits had been discovered on the old family land and she’d filed a claim to get some of the proceeds. The document she filed with the Australian government claimed that by law she was entitled to a share because the diamonds obviously existed when her family owned the land, and since the government shared some of the revenues with the new owners, they should also share it with the original owners.

  But the claim had been denied. Apparently the government demanded proof that my family actually knew about the diamond deposits. It’s not enough to simply be sitting on land that contains diamonds that you don’t know about. After all, diamonds take millions of years to form. They’ve always been there, which means that every fucking family that ever lived on that land would have a legal right to the revenues. Nope, says the Guv. The law is written to reward the discovery of valuable minerals or precious stones. If your family didn’t discover the diamonds, they don’t get a share.

  Unless you have proof that someone in your family knew about the diamonds.

  Like maybe a tiny old diamond that could be matched to the ones mined there . . .

  “What do you remember about him?” Amy asks me as I blink in the darkness and think back to my childhood. “Because clearly he found the diamond deposits and chose to stay quiet about it. All he took was one small diamond for the woman he loved. How could you not remember a man like that?”

  “I remember him,” comes a voice in the darkness, and I whip around as if I’ve seen a ghost.

  For a moment I think it is a ghost! A ghostly woman, with white hair and a white face, holding a swinging lantern that I swear belonged to those fucking miners from however many years ago!

  “Aunt Raff?” I mutter, blinking in disbelief when I see the old woman carefully making her way along the uneven tunnel. Just behind her is old Uncle Raff, holding a rifle that looks older than him and just as sinister.

  They stop in the dark tunnel, just far enough away that I have no chance of getting to him before he has a clear, easy shot at my big fucking head.

  “Yes, I remember your grandpa, little Angus,” she says, setting the lantern down and putting a long white cigarette to her lips. She pats her pockets as if looking for a lighter, but comes up empty. “Yes, I remember him well,” she says, frowning as she turns to Uncle Raff as if to ask him if he’s got her cigarette lighter. Finally she takes the unlit cigarette out of her mouth and sighs. “He was a real man, you know?” she says, casting a vaguely spiteful look at Uncle Raff as if it’s another jab at the poor guy. No wonder he never says anything and just wants to kill everyone. Maybe he’ll put one in his wife just in time to save the day. Come on, Uncle Raff! You can do it!

  But Uncle Raff stays quiet, and Aunt Raff sighs again, looking up at the rocky walls of the old mine.

  “He brought me down here when I was a little girl,” she says with a smile. Then she waves her hands at the opened-out area of the mine that’s clearly man-made. “Of course, we had to crawl through back then. It was just a narrow tunnel, with . . . with treasure at the end of it!” She smiles again, fidgeting with that unlit cigarette as I slowly step in front of Amy, my mind spinning as I wonder if I’m gonna have to take another bullet, if this is the one that puts me down. I think of my sons, and I almost fall to my knees in anguish. What happens if no one picks them up tonight? The day-care calls the police. They try to track down the parents. We have prepaid cell-phones, but if Amy and I are dead, who answers the fucking phone?!

  A horrible image of Aunt and Uncle Raff claiming not just my inheritance but also my children comes to my head, and I have to blink and force myself to breathe in order to stay in control.

  “He made me promise never to tell anyone about this place,” Aunt Raff whispers, shaking her head. “Said it belonged to the Earth and not us. That the government would take over, lease it out to a mining company, and gut the place from the inside out for cold hard cash.” She shakes her head again, twirling that long cigarette in her slender fingers like a baton. “I kept my promise for years, but then times got tough. We stopped working early. Disability wasn’t good enough. Social Security barely covers the bills. But I kept my promise, because it’s important to keep your promises, you know? I kept my promise until . . . until . . . until my mother, until my own mother broke her promise to me! To take care of me! She cut me out of the will when my sister was diagnosed with cancer. Said it my fault! That I corrupted her! That I was a bad girl. That I deserved to burn for it just like my sister was being burned from the chemotherapy! Do you understand? You understand, right, Amy?”

  “Of course I understand, Mrs. Raff,” Amy says from my left, and I turn to her. I’m surprised at her tone. She almost sounds like she does understand this woman who’s clearly lost her marbles. “You felt betrayed and forsaken by the person a child trusts from the moment it opens its eyes. I do understand. It shattered your world. Broke you in two. Made you justify doing what you did.” She takes a step towards Aunt Raff, and I almost grab her and ask her what the fuck she’s thinking before I remember how she stepped up in a crisis all those years ago and saved our asses.

  “You do understand,” Aunt Raff says sweetly. “I always liked you, Amy. Thought of you as the daughter I never had.” She shakes her head almost ruefully. “I’m still not sure why I invited you over that Thanksgiving, why those words popped out of my mouth at the time.” She shrugs and sighs. “I guess there’s no denying fate, right?” She turns to Uncle Raff and waves her hand. “Go on. Do it. I know you’ve been waiting for years to kill someone. Go on. Here’s your chance. Nobody’s going to see. Nobody’s going to know. Kill Angus first. Then we'll get the ring from Amy and kill her too.”

  “No!” says Amy, holding her arms out as urgency streaks her face. “We're parents! Mrs. Raff, I’m a mother now!”

  “You did not fucking just tell her that,” I growl, shaking my head and preparing to take one in the fucking gut.

  “Oh, we already know about the twins,” says Aunt Raff with a snort. “We’ve been keeping track of you two over the past few years, waiting for Angus to get out.”

  “Why?” says Amy with a frown. “You already have the ring.” There’s dead silence for a moment, and only now do both of us remember what Aunt Raff said about getting the ring from . . . from us?

  “Um, you do have the ring, don’t you?” Amy says again, her eyebrows peaked, eyes wide, mouth agape.

  I see the confused looks on their faces and I almost laugh out loud. “Motherfucker,” I say. “You don’t have the ring!”

  “No,” says Aunt Raff, blinking as she looks at us like she’s trying to figure out if we’re bluffing. “We assumed it was added to your property bin when you were arrested, and we’d have to wait just like we did the first time. After all, you had it in your hand when the cops came in.”

  “Yeah, but I dropped it in the chaos,” I say. “And when I was sentenced they took a full inventory of my possessions. No ring. No fucking ring, Aunt Raff. You followed us to an abandoned mine in Australia f
or no reason.”

  “I have the ring,” comes Amy’s voice just as I’m about laugh so loud it might bring the fucking walls down on us, burying us all forever. “And it’s yours once we’re safe and our children are safe. It’s yours in exchange for our freedom, Mrs. Raff. I promise. A promise matters, right, Mrs. Raff? It’s important to keep promises, right, Mrs. Raff? You know I keep my promises, right, Mrs. Raff? Right, Mrs. Raff?”

  I frown as I listen to the way Amy is speaking to Aunt Raff like the old woman is a little girl. But it’s working. I can see Aunt Raff’s lips tremble, her shoulders shudder, her knees quiver. Finally she nods, turning to her husband and sighing.

  He sighs too, lowering his rifle like he’s sad he doesn’t get to kill anyone today. And now we’re all standing here in an abandoned mine, and I have no fucking idea what comes next. After all, I’m pretty sure Amy’s bluffing. No way she’d have hidden the ring from me if she actually had it. So really, all we’ve done is buy some time. Sooner or later Aunt Raff would figure that out. And then what? They kill us just out of spite? Kill us because they’re crazy? Kill us because . . . because . . .

  “Kill him anyway,” says Aunt Raff as she puts that unlit cigarette back to her lips and taps her pockets once more for that missing lighter. “She’s got kids, so she’ll give up the ring anyway.”

  “No!” Amy screams, throwing her arms up and stepping in front of me as I grab her and pull her away. “Why?! I read the official records from the mining company. It was a small mine that’s been drained, but the proceeds were still astronomical. Even if you have to share it with Angus it’s millions for each of you!”

  But I shake my head slowly as that old memory of the two sisters drifts into my head like the light in the dark mining shaft. I think back to the way Aunt Raff handed my young mum that cigarette, the forbidden glint in her eye, the way Aunt Raff looked at her younger sister with an emotion I can’t name, can’t identify, can’t even allow myself to feel without wanting to fucking throw up.