“Action figures could I buy with this?”
She didn’t want to alarm him, but maybe she should. Everything she’d always taught him about taking things from strangers seemed to be flying out the window.
Erin grinned at Lindy, then turned her attention to Conner. “Check out the fridge. There’s a Coke in there.”
“I’m not allowed to have caffeine.”
“Well, I’m making the rules now, and I say you can have all the caffeine you want.”
Conner turned and started toward the refrigerator. But Lindy’s intense stare seemed to grab him by the chin and turn his face toward hers. When he saw her expression, he stopped dead in his tracks.
“Um . . . I better not.” His voice was soft, regretful, but he eyed the refrigerator like he’d just turned down pure gold.
Erin stayed at the table, still counting her cash. “That’s too bad. Life’s no fun following all the rules.”
Conner walked back to the table. “Yeah, I know what you mean. But life’s no fun with your mom mad at you, either.”
“Good point,” Erin said.
Lindy yanked at her handcuff. What was Erin doing now? Trying to bond with her son?
“Tell me how much is in your bank account,” Erin said.
“Close to fifteen thousand.”
“That’s what you were planning to start this big business with? A measly fifteen thousand?”
“I make a heck of a sandwich. Figured word would spread fast. Wasn’t planning on a lot of advertising. And we were going to try to get a loan.”
“Good for you,” she growled. “Luckily Joe and what’s her name provided some side cash.” She sighed, scraped her fingers through her hair, seemingly thinking hard. “To withdraw your money, you’re going to need your ID.”
“It’s at the house.”
“Figured as much.”
“The place is swarming with police.”
Erin smirked. “Lindy, you still don’t get it, do you? The police have their guy. He’s in jail. And I’m just here to tell you, when they think the husband did it, they’re looking for bodies. They may not say it, but they’re thinking it. So yeah, there are cops out looking for you, but they’re in the woods and off the highway. And if they ever do put all the pieces together, I’ll be long gone. So. We’re going to the house tonight after dark. We’re going to get your ID. And then we’re going to finish up my plan.”
“Then are you going to let us go?”
Erin started putting the stacks of money into a black duffel bag. She never looked up. “I never planned on killing you, Lindy.”
Except her words had a haunting echo to them, and the whisper reeked of lies.
Darkness set down, but not before stretching long shadows across the motel room, through the wispy white curtains that hazed any view but let some light in. The sun, like a blood orange, melted into the horizon, and now only a single lamp lit the room.
Conner was still watching cartoons but was fidgety. He rolled on and off the bed, did handstands against the wall, tried to do the splits, all the while focusing on the TV. And that was without caffeine.
Erin was in the shower. The walls were thin and Lindy heard her pull the curtain shut. She hoped she’d be in there a long while.
She could send Conner out of the room for help. She eyed the chain on the door. He probably couldn’t reach it, but he could pull over a chair. The dead bolt, though . . . sometimes those were hard to unlock.
“Mom, I’m bored.”
“I’m sorry, honey. I’m sorry for all of this.” She choked out the words, tried to make it sound like they were just on a long errand. “But we’re going to get out of this, okay?”
“We could call the police,” he said, pointing to the phone.
“She cut the line.”
“Oh.” He sighed and threw himself on the bed, grabbing the remote. “I’m tired of cartoons. I want to watch something else.”
Erin hadn’t mentioned anything about his turning the channel. And he didn’t ask. He just started turning. Lindy sighed and tried to occupy her mind with how they were going to get out of this.
Conner was whizzing through the channels, but something caught her attention. She thought she heard her name. “Conner, wait. Go back.”
“To what?”
“Just a few channels. Slowly.”
Conner obliged, channel by channel, until they hit the news.
“Stop. Here.” She leaned forward. “Turn the volume up, just a little.”
The scene was their condo. Police cars parked along the street, lights flashing. Detectives going in and out.
“That’s our house,” Conner observed, sliding onto his belly.
“Yeah,” Lindy said, but she was more tuned in to what they were saying.
“Police have arrested Vance Graegan in connection with the murder of the woman found in the closet and are saying that he is responsible for the disappearance of his wife and son,” the report said. “Sergeant Craig Champion said that they are unsure whether Linda Graegan and their eight-year-old son, Conner, are still alive. A source tells us that if they were harmed, it does not appear to have been inside the home.” They cut to a shot of both their cars being towed away. Yellow police tape fluttered against the wind.
Lindy gasped as a picture of her and Conner came to view. It was older, maybe two years ago. She had sent it to her mother for Easter.
The shower stopped. The news story didn’t. “Vance Graegan is a former police detective from Maryland and is currently out on bail.”
Lindy gasped, then covered her mouth. Hope rushed through her. “Conner, we have to pray.”
Conner looked away from the news, which had moved on to another story. “You mean it?”
“Yes, yes, sweetheart, I mean it. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you before about prayer. Sometimes adults don’t know very much.”
Conner grinned. “Well, first you put your hands together.”
Lindy laughed as she looked at her hand cuffed to the bedpost.
“Oh,” Conner said. “Well, that’s okay. You don’t have to always do that. But it helps you to concentrate. Do you think you can concentrate?”
Lindy nodded.
“Okay. Then bow your head.”
Lindy didn’t know what she was expecting when she announced they should pray, but she wasn’t sure it was for her little guy to lead the whole thing. Of course, he was way more versed in it than she.
“Dear Lord, we want to thank You for this day . . .”
Lindy peeked, wondering if he could hurry it along. She listened and could hear Erin still in the bathroom.
“. . . and thank You for my family. Lord, we ask that You forgive us of our sins . . .”
The toilet flushed. Lindy’s eyes flew open. Should she tell Conner to skip to the part where they ask to get rescued?
“And thank You, Lord, that my mom now understands how important prayer is . . .”
“Conner,” Lindy whispered, “we need to hurry up, honey, and pray that Daddy can come save us.”
Conner opened one eye. It blinked at her. “Mom,” he said, exasperated, “you have to always thank God first. That’s important. If you don’t be thankful, then you miss out on what God’s doing. You don’t see it.”
“But let’s pretend we’re getting ready to be in a car wreck, and we need God’s help fast. Then what kind of prayer do you pray?”
“You don’t pray then, Mom,” he said. “You just trust that He’s there.”
Lindy’s heart melted with conviction as she saw deep wisdom in that one peering eye. She’d never trusted God. Not one day in her life. She’d never really trusted anybody but herself. She was the only one who could make sure her life didn’t fall apart. Except now. And before . . . well, she obviously hadn’t been doing that great of a job either.
Lindy nodded. “Okay, we’re going to trust God,” she said, smiling through proud tears.
The bathroom door opened and Erin walked out,
eyeing both of them as she toweled her hair. “We’re leaving in fifteen minutes.” She looked at the TV, noticed the cartoons weren’t on.
“Can we rent a movie or something?” Conner blurted.
“Chill out, kid,” Erin said. “Things are just about to get real exciting.”
30
“Vance . . .”
The voice was quiet but many, like a thousand people were calling his name all at once, exactly the same way. But then, like a horse at a race, one voice emerged, just a nose ahead of the rest.
“Doug.”
“You have to listen to me.”
“You can’t be here.”
“If you don’t listen to me, you will never find them.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is true. I’ve been the voice guiding you, Vance. You know this. You listen to me.”
“No.”
“We understand each other in a way few others do. We’ve been through a lot together. We can trust one another.”
“I can’t trust you.”
“You can.”
“But you’re dead.”
“What does that have to do with the price of tea in China?”
“You’re dead. You’re dead.”
“Then why am I standing here?”
A gasp shook Vance’s body and he bolted up, blinking into the dimly lit room. His hand covered his chest, which held in a wildly beating heart. He took in air and the comfort of knowing it was just a dream. Doug could show up in his dreams. That was okay. Dead people showed up in a lot of people’s dreams.
He must’ve fallen asleep at the table.
Nearby, Joan moaned and mumbled but stayed asleep, curled up in a corner of the couch, her legs tucked beneath her, her spiked heels having fallen off her feet and to the floor. He checked his watch. A little after 2 a.m. Harmon was out tracking down a lead. He’d heard someone had tried to sell a red Cadillac at a nearby car dealership.
Vance looked at the table before him. With all the white laid down over it, it looked like Christmas snow had fallen. Except it felt more like Halloween. Everything haunted him. Each piece of paper seemed to laugh wickedly, giving small clues leading only to dead ends.
He stood and paced the room, trying to get the blood stirring in his brain. It seemed a horrible irony that the detective couldn’t find his own family. He knew Erin was smart and that she’d covered her tracks well, but one thing he knew about criminals—especially desperate ones—was that eventually they made a mistake. It usually came from impatience. Or desperation. And it usually involved money.
He rubbed his eyes. His mind was still aching for sleep. He’d slept little in the past seventy-two hours and it was starting to affect him. Objects in the room came in and out of focus. But he couldn’t sleep. Time was wasting.
He tried to ponder Erin’s motivation. So she wanted to disrupt his life. That was done. What else did she want? She’d not planned on Joe’s double-crossing her, and from there, Vance suspected, things got out of control quickly.
But how desperate was she? How far was she willing to go?
Vance went to the bathroom and splashed his face with cold water. As he rose and grabbed a towel, he heard a voice say, Go to the house.
He turned, eyeing the room for any sign of Doug. But nobody was there. Water dripped off his face as he clutched the sink. What was that?
Then, right outside the bathroom, he heard movement. He yanked open the door.
Joan yelped and fanned her face, her eyes blinking rapidly. “Good grief, Vance. Trying to scare a barely aging woman to death?”
“Sorry . . .”
“In a polite world, one normally just opens the door at a minimal speed. Why is there a need for yanking?”
“Did you say something?”
“Obviously you don’t live in a polite world.”
“No, I mean . . . sorry, obviously you said something. But before. Before I opened the door. Did you say something?”
Joan peered at him with those narrow eyes, like a door barely cracking open. “No, Vance, I did not say anything. I don’t shout out things in the middle of the night. That might startle someone and that would be impolite.”
Vance moved past her, out of the space where she seemed to suck all the air from the room. The drowsiness was lifting. Nothing like the threat of a mother-in-law to slap some life back into you.
She followed him to the living area. “What have you found?”
“Harmon is checking on a lead right now, word of a Cadillac being sold.”
“That’s good, correct? It will give us something to go on?”
Even through her piercing features and scrutinizing words, Vance could see a mother’s worry.
“Yes, yes. That’s a very good lead.” He emphasized each word and could see her brighten right before him. “I’m going to need your car.”
“My driver can take you wherever you need to go.”
“Not everywhere.” He made a bold move and put a hand on her shoulder. He felt her shudder. “Joan, if you want your daughter and grandson back, you’re going to have to trust me. I’ve got to go back to the house.”
* * *
“Hurry up,” Erin hissed. The house would’ve been pitch-black had it not been for the full moon spilling its light through the curtainless windows.
“I’m trying,” Lindy said. She’d hidden her wallet in the house somewhere, just in case Joe tried to break in and take it. But now she couldn’t remember exactly where she’d put it.
“Hey, kid. No. Stand right here.”
Conner began to wail and Lindy jerked upright to see what was going on.
“Kid, shut up, for crying out loud.”
“I just want my toys!”
Lindy hurried over. “Erin, let him have some of his toys. They’re in his bedroom.”
“Shut up. Go look for the wallet.”
“Listen to me. Kids are kids, and he could throw a big fit right here and not care the least bit that you have a gun, so if I were you, I’d let him go grab some of his toys.”
Erin eyed Conner, whose big eyes puppy-dogged their way through the darkness.
“Fine. Go, kid. What are you, five? Get a couple of things.”
Conner started to race to his room, but Lindy grabbed his elbow and walked him down the hallway and around the blood.
“Now,” Erin said, “hurry it up. And I swear if you are messing with me—”
“I’m not,” Lindy said, scraping hair out of her face. “I just don’t remember where I put it.”
Lindy went back to the kitchen and searched through the drawers. She watched Erin pace the length of the hallway, glancing into Conner’s bedroom and monitoring him for a moment before coming back to the kitchen.
“The police are looking for you,” Erin suddenly said.
Lindy looked up. But it didn’t appear Erin was talking to her.
“They’re watching this house.” That was true. They’d spent an hour waiting to see how often a patrol car drove by. Once in an hour.
So instead of coming through the front, Erin had them come in from the back, through the woods behind their house.
“They’ll be monitoring your credit cards, your ATM card . . .” Erin shook her head, pacing again. She went to check on Conner, then returned. “This wasn’t the plan. I wanted money. I just wanted money.” She glanced at Lindy, who was frozen as she listened to her. She gestured with the gun. “Get to looking.”
Lindy suddenly remembered. She’d hidden it behind the paper plates in the pantry. She hurried over, reached to the back, and found it. “Got it.”
Erin turned, her expression relaxing at the news for just a moment. She walked over and snatched it from Lindy’s hands. She fingered through the cards, pulled out the cash, which was only fifty or so dollars, and pocketed it.
“This is never going to work.” She clawed at her cheek, her eyes darting to one thing after another in the house. Lindy hadn’t seen her this nervous. So far sh
e’d played it very cool. “I’d planned on you getting the money out, but that was before they thought you were kidnapped and possibly killed by your husband. They’re watching him, but they’ll find me if I don’t handle this right.” She cursed, shoving the wallet into her bag. “We need to get out of here. I need to think.”
Lindy stood next to her, watching her coolness unravel right before her eyes. She wasn’t sure if an unstable Erin was better or not. Which one could be better played?
“It’s under the company name,” Lindy said.
“What?”
“The money. The fifteen thousand.” She glanced at Erin, whose eyes were frantically oversize. “You have to have two signatures to withdraw money. Mine and Vance’s.”
Erin cursed again.
“We do have about eight hundred dollars in our regular checking, though.” Lindy almost smiled at the statement. She knew that was far less than Erin was expecting. If she couldn’t get what she wanted from them, maybe she’d just go.
“Go get your kid,” Erin growled, pushing her with the side of the gun.
Lindy stumbled forward, taking soft steps down the hallway. The blood on the floor was now dark, nearly black, but the moonlight caused it to look a little wet. She stepped around it and found Conner in his room on the floor. He was playing with his Etch A Sketch by the blue light of the moon. Lindy smiled at the scene, took it in. For just a moment, all things in their world were right again.
“Okay, buddy, we have to go.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Me neither.”
“I hate that room we’re in. Are we going back to that room?”
“I think so.” She wanted to take a step in but knew Erin was watching her, and if she disappeared, Erin would freak out. “Why don’t you grab three or four toys, okay?”
“Okay, Mom.”
She studied him, proud of this sudden maturity that had fallen upon him. She watched him grab two books, a puzzle, and one action figure.
“Sweetie, why don’t you bring your Etch A Sketch?”
“Don’t want to.”
“But it’s your favorite toy.”
“I want to leave it here.”
Lindy sighed. Sometimes he was a mystery. If anything could pass the time well, it would be an Etch A Sketch.
Possession Page 21
