by Karen Rose
Mary pointed to a side road. “Stop the car and get out.”
Her bones creaking, Phoebe obeyed. She let out a quiet groan as she tried to straighten her back, then grimaced as she drew a breath. The air was heavy with the stale odor of burned wood. Phoebe couldn’t see the burned condo, but she knew it couldn’t be far. They’d taken so many turns, she had no idea where she was exactly. They were on a lake, but they’d passed a lot of those. Minnesota, she thought, land of ten thousand lakes. She’d thought the brochures had been exaggerating.
“Why are we here?” I’ll never find my way out of here, even if I get away.
Mary shoved the barrel of the gun into her back. “Move.”
They’d parked the car on a side road that appeared not to have been used for some time. The trees were so thick that they hadn’t walked fifty feet before the car was completely hidden. Phoebe’s feet were numb from sitting so long in the car and she had rather pressing needs elsewhere. “Is it far?”
“No,” Mary said tightly. Her hands were shaking. The woman had become increasingly tense as the hours had passed.
“Mary, I need to know. They said you killed those men. Is it true?”
Mary’s chin lifted as she walked. “Yes.”
Phoebe’s blood chilled. “Okay. Why?”
“Eric was going to run away. He was going to leave me and Albert holding the bag. He used me to save his own hide. He thought he knew everything, but in the end he was just a damn coward. Running away to France. Nobody uses me.”
“How did you know?”
“I went to his place because we were supposed to go to Joel’s funeral together. He wasn’t home, but Joel had a key, so I went in.”
“Joel is dead, too?”
Her face twisted. “Yes. It was a car accident.”
Phoebe frowned, trying to remember. “Oh. Joel. I heard about that on the news.” And now pieces she’d overheard David and Glenn muttering about became clearer. “You cared for Joel?”
“Yes. Joel had a thing for causes,” she said bitterly. She was running her free hand up and down her arm in jagged little movements as she walked, a twitch in each step.
“Causes are usually good things.”
“I was his cause. And now he’s dead.”
Her tone made Phoebe’s blood chill a little more. “Did you kill him, too?” Mary said nothing and Phoebe had her answer. “I see. What about the other one?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Albert. That sonofabitch. Said he’d break my neck if I didn’t do what he said. Nobody says that to me. Nobody. Uses. Me.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Phoebe said dryly. “What about Lincoln? Did he use you?”
“No.” Her voice abruptly softened. “Lincoln loved me.”
Phoebe thought of the man her son had described as pathetic and tortured. “Did you love him?”
“Not like that. But he thought I did, when he was on his meds.”
“My son said Lincoln is mentally ill.”
“Yes.”
“David said the FBI was interested in Lincoln for an old arson.”
“They couldn’t find him with all their guns and bugs and spycams, but I did,” she boasted. “Yes, I used him. But I won’t let him kill him,” she added.
“What? Him, who?”
Mary blinked, as if surprised she’d said the last thing. “Just… shut up and walk. That’s where we’re going, that cabin.”
Wednesday, September 22, 6:50 p.m.
“It’s just a scrape,” Tom said between clenched teeth. He’d shaved a layer of skin diving to protect two bystanders when the shot that killed Crawford was fired. “Don’t fuss.”
“I have to. It’s keeping me sane.” David finished bandaging Tom’s hand and looked to the window where Olivia stood, watching them. A new shaft of fear pierced him.
“It’s like when there’s turbulence and the flight attendants are scared,” Tom murmured, his eyes on Olivia as well.
David sank into Olivia’s chair, closing his eyes to focus. “Being terrified won’t bring Mom home. What do we know about Mary?”
“She was pissed at her stepfather,” Tom said.
“Because she holds him responsible for her mother’s death. She loved her mother.”
“So she might not hurt Grandma.” Tom’s voice took a hopeful note.
“Right.” It might not be true, but, like tending others, the notion helped him stay sane. “What else?”
“We know Mary and Joel met in an environmental ethics class,” Olivia said behind him. He started to get up, but she perched on her desk. “And that killing Joel upset her.”
“She believed,” Tom murmured. “She believed in Preston Moss.”
“Or she knew re-creating Moss’s fires were the best way to get back at Crawford,” David said. “Somehow she sought out Lincoln through that Web site, earned his confidence. He told her information that nobody else had. I wonder who first brought up the idea of the condo arson. Mary or Joel?”
“I’m betting Mary,” Olivia said, “and that Joel thought it was his idea.” She hesitated. “We also think we know who Jonathan is. Or at least who the blackmailer is.”
Both David and Tom stared. “Who?” David demanded.
“I know it sounds crazy, but Kirby. From the Deli. All the blackmail victims went there. He has access to their e-mail. And he resembles the man Austin saw.”
Tom’s eyes narrowed. “I told you about that free Wi-Fi. You said I was paranoid.”
David’s mind was reeling. “You are, but that’s okay.”
“Why aren’t we going to the Deli to get him?” Tom demanded.
“He’s not there,” Olivia said patiently. “We’re going for a warrant and I’ve got some work to do to help with that. You guys should go get some food or coffee or something. Just not at the Deli. Promise me. I don’t want him scared off.”
She met David’s eyes, hers a little too intense. “Don’t lose faith.”
His eyes narrowed. “Something’s about to happen.”
“We may have another trick up our sleeve.” She laid her finger across his lips. “Don’t ask. I wasn’t going to tell you that much. I don’t want you to be hurt.”
If it doesn’t work. “Why did you tell me then?” he murmured against her finger.
Pain filled her eyes. “I need you to know I’m doing everything I can.”
Covering her hand with his, he pressed it hard to his lips. “I know you are.”
“Go get something to eat,” she whispered. “Let us do our jobs.”
He watched her walk away, then hauled his body out of the chair, feeling a million years old. “We haven’t checked on Glenn.”
“I did, when you were bandaging up Olivia,” Tom said. “He’s physically fine. They’ll let him go tomorrow. He told me to tell you to keep looking for Grandma, not to visit him.”
“Then let’s go.”
“To do which? Look for Grandma or get something to eat?”
“Both,” David said grimly.
They went down the elevator and out the door, and David couldn’t hold back the shudder at the bloodstains on the sidewalk. The area was barricaded off with yellow tape and passersby stared. Olivia’s okay, he told himself. She wasn’t shot. But she could have been. If not today, then next week. Next month. Any time in the future.
“Part of me wants to keep her out of the path of bullets.” He blinked, unaware he’d said it out loud until he heard it.
“She probably wants to keep you out of the path of fiery, falling beams,” Tom replied soberly. “And I’d agree with her. But she won’t ask and neither will I.”
“It’s who I am. It’s who she is, too.”
“She’s careful,” Tom said. “Dana never was.”
That’s how Olivia’s different. She had the same need to protect without the drama Dana had always had swirling around her. Olivia got the job done. Efficiently and quietly. She’d do what needed to be done, the right way. A ringing phone startled hi
m from his thoughts and David realized it was coming from his own pocket. He pulled out the prepaid cell he’d forgotten he still had. “Hello?”
“David? This is Truman Jefferson. I’m sorry to bother you.”
“Not at all. What’s wrong?”
“After you left, the police shut me down for the afternoon, to process the scene. I went home, tried to get some work done, and I found some pictures that Lincoln took. One of his jobs was taking photos of new listings to put on our Web site, but these pictures show a property that isn’t one of my listings. I don’t recognize the location, but it’s a cabin near some kind of a park. Some of the pictures show a lake, which I know isn’t helpful. But I wanted to tell you because some of the pictures have Mary in them. I guess they went there together. I thought you needed to know.”
David’s mind started racing and then his feet were, too. Tom pulled ahead, leading him to where he’d parked the car. “Can you describe the park?” David asked urgently.
“It’s old. Just an old-fashioned park, like when I was a kid. A sandbox, a metal swing set, a merry-go-round—you know, the ones that look like a flat spaceship.”
“Yeah, I know.” He did. He’d seen that little park, Monday morning when he’d taken Olivia up in the bucket. She’d taken pictures. She’d have the layout. “Any specific features on this cabin?” He got in the passenger side of the car, and Tom was pulling into traffic before he’d shut his door. “The condo,” he told Tom.
“It has a green awning on the back,” Truman said, “but no house number. I’m sorry.”
“No, this is amazing. This is good.”
“Mary may not be there, but it’s a place she and Lincoln must have liked.”
“Have you seen Lincoln?”
“They let me visit him this afternoon, but he was too doped up to talk. The psychiatrist told me you were kind to him. I wanted to thank you.”
“It’s okay. If you find anything else out, please call me.”
“Wait,” Tom said. “Ask if he can scan those pictures in and send them to my e-mail.”
“Yes,” Truman said after David gave him Tom’s e-mail address. “I’ll do that right now. Good luck. God bless.”
“Thank you.” David closed his phone and closed his eyes, visualizing the scene. “It’s one of those cabins at the lake near the condo. I took Olivia up in the bucket to see the layout and I saw the park. From the bucket, it was at eleven o’clock. We won’t be able to see the awning from the road. We’ll have to come in from the back.”
“Do you have any weapons?” Tom asked.
“No. Hopefully Mary hasn’t improved her marksmanship in the last five hours.” He dialed Olivia and swore softly when he got her voice mail, again. “It’s David. I may know where they are. Check the photos you took from the bucket at the condo. It’s a cabin with a green awning. Call me.” He called the police department’s main number and gave them the same information, then he buckled his seat belt. “Drive faster, kid.”
Wednesday, September 22, 7:10 p.m.
The sun was setting and for the first time Phoebe wondered if David would be too late. Mary was growing more agitated, hugging herself as she paced the floor. Phoebe had seen the track marks on her arms and knew she was starting to withdraw. Mary had been unpredictable. She still held the gun, but carelessly by the barrel, not by the handle.
Mary had made her stop the car about a half mile from the cabin in which they now hid. She’d obviously been here before, going straight to an unlocked window and forcing Phoebe through. She’d then tied her to a chair with, ironically, the pull cords from the window blinds. If I ever get out of here, David and Glenn will laugh at that.
Mary was pacing, tapping the gun against her palm. Calm her down, if you can. “If you’ll untie me, I’ll make you some hot tea,” Phoebe said. “I see a kettle on the stove.”
Mary threw her a glare. “You’re crazy. I tie you up and you want to be nice to me?”
“Frankly, if I had that gun I would shoot you. I wouldn’t kill you, but I’d make it so you couldn’t chase me. But I don’t have the gun and you look like you need some tea.”
“You’re a strange woman, Phoebe.” Her mouth trembled. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I don’t want you to hurt me either. Mary, what are you planning to do with me? You haven’t made any calls, made any demands.”
Her laugh was brittle. “In the movies, they ask for passage to Mexico.”
“But you’d always be looking over your shoulder. No way to live.”
“Prison is no way to live either.”
“Then you’ve got a hard choice to make. But you need to make it, because I don’t like being forced around at gunpoint. You can’t hide here forever.”
Mary looked around the room longingly. “I wanted to. Live here forever, I mean.”
“When was this?” Phoebe asked gently.
“When I was little. My mom and dad—my real dad—would come up here and we’d have a normal family vacation.”
“How old were you?”
“Four. I was five when he died.” Her jaw tightened. “And then she married him.”
“Who, honey?”
“Crawford. He had a kid already. Andy was nice, but Crawford… We had to be perfect. Make the beds. Up at sunrise. Straight As. I hated Crawford the day I met him.”
“Your mother must have loved him.”
“My mother had no family and no job. When my real dad died, we were so poor. Food stamps. Government cheese. My mother couldn’t feed us. She needed a man.”
“My husband died when my youngest was still in school. It was hard.”
Mary was pacing again, gun in her hand. “How did he die?”
“Car accident. One of my sons was with him. He was paralyzed for a while.”
Mary’s face shadowed. “Like the firefighter will be. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I didn’t want to set the other two fires. Eric and Albert made me.”
She sounded like a wounded child, and Phoebe suspected that, deep down, she was. But the wounded child had killed so many and right now held a gun. The wounded child needed to be stopped, however possible. Phoebe had spoken the truth. If she had to, she would use the gun to stop Mary. If I have to, I’ll kill her.
For now, all Phoebe had was her quiet voice and her instinct that was screaming that this girl craved a mother. “I know, honey. But you did. There are consequences to your actions. The condo fire you set killed two people.”
Mary shook her head. “No. No. We didn’t know the girl was there. And somebody else killed the guard. That wasn’t me.”
“My son almost died that night. He almost fell four stories. David would have died.”
“He caught the ball,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean for him to get hurt.”
“What did you think would happen when you set the fire, Mary? Did you think it would burn nicely and stop all by itself? You set fires, firefighters come. It’s what they do. You lit a match and put a dozen men and women in mortal danger.”
“Nothing happened to them.”
“Not Sunday night. What about last night? David almost died again, and his partner may never walk again. And don’t tell me you didn’t mean for that to happen, Mary,” she ordered sharply and saw the girl flinch. Satisfied she’d delivered her point, she softened her tone. “You have to run or turn yourself in. Those are the only choices I see here.”
“Eric was going to France. I should have kept him alive so he could take me, too.”
Phoebe didn’t think her blood could go much colder, but she was wrong. There was no remorse for the murder, only Mary’s regret that she hadn’t been more forward-thinking.
“Well, you didn’t. So, coming full circle, what do you plan to do with me?”
Mary tensed, then slapped the gun on the counter. “I’m going to shut you up.”
Phoebe watched, breath held, as Mary rummaged in the kitchen drawers. She came out of the kitchen with a pair of scissors and
a large roll of duct tape. “Lincoln brought this with him the last time we came. He fixed the swing outside for me.” She slapped a piece of tape over Phoebe’s mouth, dragged the chair around the back of the sofa, and shoved it over on its side. “Now I don’t have to look at you or listen to you.”
Phoebe tried to ignore the pain jolting through her stiff joints. She’d pushed the girl as far as she dared. It was clear Mary didn’t want to hurt her now, but if the girl became more desperate, that could change.
There was a chill at her back. The sliding glass door was a few feet away. If Mary went to sleep, and if she could scoot close enough, and if she could manage to get the door open… It was damn frustrating to have an escape so close and so far away.
Okay, David, I’m ready for you to come get me now.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Wednesday, September 22, 7:15 p.m.
That’s done.” Olivia glued Kirby’s photo into the array. Austin was on his way in with his mother, so hopefully the ID and the subsequent warrant wouldn’t take long.
“I sent the text from Austin’s phone to the fake Kenny account,” Noah said. “We’ve got SWAT and snipers surrounding the meet. We picked an area that’ll be deserted this time of night. I’ll stake it out. You go home, rest your head.”
“I’ll go, too, as soon as Austin ID’s Kirby.” Too nervous to sit, she checked her messages. Deleting the ones from reporters, she stopped dead in her tracks as she listened to David’s voice, then pulled her camera from her desk drawer before the message was over. “Noah, David knows where Mary went. Up at the lake, near the condo.”
“David and Tom went up alone?” he demanded and she flashed him a look.
“What do you think?”
They started to run, then stopped at Abbott’s command. “What’s going on?”
“David found Mary,” Olivia said. “We have to move.”
“Where’s your vest?”
She slapped at her shoulder, realized she still wore the ice pack. “In the conference room. Go get the car,” she said to Noah. “I’ll suit up and meet you downstairs.”
Wednesday, September 22, 7:25 p.m.
