“Poor ol’ Ron was just collateral damage.” Ebba belched loudly. “’Scuse me.” Then wiped her lips with the back of her hand, smearing lipstick across her cheek.
“Wait? Did Ava kill Ron?”
Or was I sitting here with a murderer and nobody even knew where I was? My stomach began to ache.
She didn’t answer but I wanted to keep her talking. If I could get her to keep talking and keep drinking maybe I’d get lucky and she’d pass out. Or at least drop the gun.
“What about all the blood? Was it Ron’s blood left at the scene?”
“Of course not.” Ebba rolled her eyes. “CSI people check DNA and such. We’re not stupid. We watch the crime shows. Ron had that weird blood condition. Too much iron. He had to get blood taken as a way to keep him healthy. He had a nurse come to the house to do it and sometimes Ava was there and she watched the nurse do it. That’s what gave her the idea. She took a few of the phlebotomy packages off the nurse’s bag when she was busy.”
“So it was Ava’s idea.”
“Yes, her idea was that she’d fake her death. I tried to sell my business when I got sick but the market wasn’t giving much. Ava figured rightly that in a few months she was going to be left high and dry. I could leverage the business to get a hundred thousand for the ransom and give that cash to her. Then I’d get the insurance money and split it with her and then she and Ron could go off to South America and live happily ever after once I was cold and stiff in the ground.”
“Oh and Ron was okay with that? He was okay leaving his mom, dad and brother behind and making the world think he kidnapped and killed Ava?”
“That wasn’t the original plan,” Ebba admitted. “Ava was going to fake her death and just leave blood in her apartment. She figured she’d take off and then send for Ron but I knew it would be more believable if there was a ransom note and a fall guy.”
“So you wrote the note on Ron’s computer and mailed it to yourself, and then you killed him.”
My hands were clutched into tight fists at my side. She was old, sick and drunk. I could totally take her if I could keep her talking long enough that she relaxed with the gun.
“Yeah, I followed him down to those godforsaken Bat Caves. Almost broke my frigg’n neck!” She pursed her lips angrily. “He sent Ava a message to meet him at the caves so they could talk. I met him with my trusty friend instead.” She indicated the gun that was still pointed at me. “I got the ransom note printed off his computer and told Ava that Ron and I had it all arranged that he would fly to South America and meet her there. They were to have no contact and she was supposed to lay low for a couple months until the insurance paid out. I’d get half the insurance money to help me die in peace and she’d get the other half to add to the hundred thousand she already got from the ransom. She’d run away to be with him once I was dead. Except, of course, she didn’t know he was already dead. I knew she’d cry over that but she’d meet someone else. Even though she claimed to love Ron, she would’ve met another loser just like him in a heartbeat. When Ron didn’t show up in South America, she’d just think she got blown off and hook up with someone new.”
“And so where is she?”
“I don’t know!” Ebba wailed. “She was supposed to come here and leave me a note under my mattress of a place we could meet so we could at least say goodbye. Maybe have one last day or two together but I’ve been checking for weeks and no note.
“Now she’s probably pissed at me because by now she will have heard that you found Ron’s body and she probably figured out that I killed him.” She rubbed her eyes and lowered the gun briefly before leveling it back at me. “All I wanted was for you to make a show of looking for Ava’s body and, of course, there was no Ava’s body so it was just for show to pressure the insurance company. So you screwed everything up finding Ron. Thanks a ton, missy!”
I licked my lips nervously. “So maybe Ava will show up here and the two of you can run off together. I’ll just leave and, if you like, I can keep pretending to look for her, you know, so the journalists think I’m still on the search for Ava’s body for you.” I was rambling and trying to keep her talking and thinking about anything except killing me.
“Too late for that because you know everything.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “This is how it’s going to play out. You’re going to drink that bottle of wine in front of you and then you’re going to drink this other one next to me.”
“I’m not going to—”
“Shut up!” Ebba raised the gun and closed one eye as if taking aim. “You are going to drink that wine and then, as soon as the sun sets, I’m going to paddle you out to the middle of the lake in our canoe and drop you over the side.” She smiled a sickening saccharine grin. “The water is cold mountain runoff and it’s very deep with a deceptive undertow. It’ll be over in less than a couple minutes. Everyone knows you’re a drunk and so they’ll all assume you fell in while looking for Ava.”
She got up and walked over to stick the gun right between my eyes. “Hand me your phone and your keys.”
The barrel of the gun pressed against my forehead as my fingers fumbled in my pocket.
Please don’t let her finger slip.
I tossed the keys onto the table and then dropped the phone on the floor, hoping she’d look away long enough that I could overpower her. She only laughed and kicked the phone away from my reach then walked backward and squatted to pick it up. For a woman who’d drunk a lot of wine, she was very much in control. Far more than I was going to be if I drank the bottles she was insisting.
“I could just leave and close your case,” I said quickly. “The cops aren’t going to figure out that you killed Ron and I sure as hell won’t tell them. It’s not like it’ll make him undead for everyone to know. None of my business, right? I’m happy to let sleeping dogs lie.”
Ebba rolled her eyes at me as she unscrewed the cap off the bottle of wine. She thrust it into my hands. “Bottoms up.”
She sat down on the coffee table so close that our knees touched. If she shot me that would blow her story. If I had a gunshot wound then people wouldn’t believe I drowned in a drunken stupor.
As if reading my mind she said, “If I have to shoot you, I will.” She reached over and tapped the bottle with the gun. “It just means I’ll have to wrap your fingers around the grip after you’re dead so your fingerprints are all over the gun and people will think it was a suicide. You broke in here and found the gun and wine I keep here. You’re crazy and you’re a drunk. Everyone knows that, so it would be no biggie.”
Three hundred thirty-four.
“I’ve been sober for three hundred thirty-four days.”
“Well, hurray for you but now’s the time to end things on a high note. Get it? A hi-i-igh note?” She giggled and then burped loudly before leveling the muzzle of the gun at my head. “Drink.”
I looked down at the bottle in my hands. It was a cheap merlot. Not that I was a fussy drunk. Tentatively I lifted it to my lips. Maybe after being sober this long and so many months of therapy my body would physically reject the alcohol. Although it wasn’t a pretty plan, if I projectile vomited all over Ebba there was a small chance it would cause her to falter and allow me to gain the upper hand.
The first sip of wine passed my lips like a welcomed lover. It was closely followed by a longer, deeper swallow. Almost immediately a rush of warmth spread from my belly to my extremities. I lowered the bottle and wiped my lips with the back of my hand.
“You really don’t need to do this, Ebba.” My voice was soft and reasonable and gentle like I was talking to a small child. “You love your daughter and, surely, you don’t want her to see you spend your last days in a jail cell.”
She chuckled softly and shook her head. “Ava couldn’t care less about me.”
I thought about growing up without a mother and tossed out to grandparents who weren’t fit to raise a rat and then I got angry. “She loves you. Obviously. How could she not? You’ve work
ed hard. Given her a place to live. A future.”
“Stop talking!” Ebba yelled.
She grabbed the wine bottle by the bottom and lifted it to my mouth, tipping it upward so that it poured into my mouth, and I was swallowing and choking and gasping and fighting her until it was nearly gone. I gagged and coughed and it took me a few minutes to catch my breath.
“You don’t get it!” Ebba was furious now. “Ava’s dad took off and left me to raise her. It was just the two of us. I was never what you’d call maternal. Sure, I put her in the best daycare centers and after-school programs but I worked long hours. I was determined to build something with my life. By the time I really paused and took a look at my daughter, she was already a train wreck.”
The effect of the wine was hitting me hard and fast. I could feel the edges of the world growing blurry. I didn’t have the resistance I used to have when two bottles or more would be a daily occurrence.
“She’s young,” I said, my words coming out slurred. “There is still a lot of time to make things good with Ava.”
Which was an idiotic thing to say but then the stupid, drunk part of me was bound to bubble up.
“There is no time. I’m dying and there’s no way that girl is going to get her shit together before I’m long gone. Everything else is leveraged to the hilt and I sold all my massage holdings to cover medical costs. The money from her own life insurance policy is all she’ll get and, let me tell you, she positively salivated at the idea of getting that money and the ransom cash to start a new life fa-a-ar away from her dying mother.”
“How is she getting the money? She can’t exactly walk into the bank and withdraw it since she’s supposed to be dead and all.”
“I’m not an idiot, you know.” She looked exasperated at having to explain things to me. “Everything is available for a price in this world. Set her up with fake ID and already transferred almost all the money into an account for her. All I’ve got left is enough to live on for the next few months. Here. Alone. In peace.”
It seemed a dreadful way to go. I watched her unscrew the cap from another bottle of wine.
“So if you set it up so that she could access the money and leave the country, why were you expecting her here?”
“We had a deal.” Ebba’s voice grew softer and she had a faraway look to her eyes. “The deal was that she could get the money and a fresh life but she had to stop here to say goodbye to me. She agreed. She said she’d come spend a few hours, maybe even a day or two with me.” She blinked back tears and then her voice got hard. “But I guess she changed her mind. She got what she wanted.” She pushed the second bottle of wine into my hands. “Drink.”
I didn’t fight her now. The first bottle had already weakened me and as I drank, Ebba sobered up. Wine no longer felt like my enemy, and if I was going to die, honestly, I’d rather be hammered when it happened. The part of me that could reason with Ebba was being washed over and diluted by alcohol. The angry drunk part of me was there, though, and she was not going to get me into a canoe and try to drown me without me kicking up one helluva drunken brawl.
The sun was going down. I knew Garrett would be frantic but I was stupid and hadn’t told him where I was going, and I’d left him no trail of breadcrumbs to find me. I needed to do this on my own. My best bet would be to break into a run as Ebba brought me out of the house toward the canoe. How much running can a drunken girl do when chased by a gun-wielding woman with nothing to lose? Hopefully, whatever I could muster would be enough.
After a few drinks from the second bottle of wine I purposely knocked it to the floor. Ebba reacted by slamming the revolver into my cheekbone with such force that I felt it shatter. The immediate swelling under my right eye left me vision impaired on that side. Not exactly a help considering my need to take flight.
Next, she nonchalantly picked up her wig and plopped it on her head like a jaunty beret.
“Let’s go.”
Ebba got to her feet and motioned with the gun for me to go ahead. I walked toward the front door, where she ordered me to stop. I tried to glance over my shoulder to see what she was doing and only caught a glimpse of her pulling something from a basket on the floor near the door.
“I’m not much of a pet person but Ava begged for a dog. Of course, she couldn’t care for it any better than she could work a full-time job. She let the dog get out of the yard last year and it got hit by a car.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, wondering why the hell the trip down memory lane.
Abruptly I felt a cold, thick chain slide over my head and then a hard tug of the collar yanked me backward and had me coughing and choking. She’d put a dog’s choke collar and leash around my neck.
“In case you get any smart ideas to take off before we’re in the lake,” she explained.
I felt my plans to escape slip through my fingers. As we headed through the front door I tried to find my footing on the steps in the dark. I tripped only to be yanked back by Ebba, causing another gasping fit as I clawed at my neck to loosen the chain.
“Slowly,” she ordered. “The canoe’s on the shore directly in front of the house. Maybe fifty feet. Don’t try anything. I know this land like the back of my hand.”
Except I was the one in front leading the way and I could hardly see anything beyond what was right in front of my face. I thought about the scrabble of shrubbery that had obscured a lot of the house from the trail. We were in bush now and I knew from seeing the area in daylight that the trees and shrubbery thinned as we got closer to the lake, and the last few feet would be sandy shoreline. I needed to try to break loose before we were in an area where she’d have a clearer shot at me.
“Just keep going and don’t stop,” Ebba said.
“There are lots of low branches,” I pointed out.
I had one hand up around my neck, my fingers tucked between the chain and my throat to guard it from being pulled tight. A cool breeze licked off the lake and helped clear my wine-soaked brain. It had clouded over and the moon and stars were hidden, so there was little light at all. With me walking in front, Ebba couldn’t see what was directly in front of me. When we pushed through some tree branches I pulled one away and then warned her before it swung and hit her in the face.
“Branch,” I called out.
I felt a slight pull to the collar as Ebba stepped to the side to avoid a twig in the face. I didn’t want to take the chance she’d get thwacked by a tree limb and shoot me when startled.
“You know, I’m really going to enjoy living out my final days here.” Ebba sighed. “Sure it would’ve been nice to have Ava here with me, but she might decide to come around once she stops being all pissy about Ron.” She huffed a little as we walked. “In fact, I bet she hasn’t even left the country to get the money yet. She’s probably just waiting for things to calm down and I’m betting she’ll want to spend some time here with me before she leaves.”
She was rambling and going on about how peaceful it was around here and how proud she was that she’d managed to work hard enough to buy the cottage. I wanted to point out that all that hard work had cost her a relationship with her daughter, who’d turned her back on her now that she was dying. I kept my mouth shut because it wasn’t going to win me any points while the woman held a gun pointed at my back.
“Branch,” I announced.
When I felt the collar shift as Ebba sidestepped right, I deftly whirled and reached behind me with my right hand to grab the leash. I tugged her toward me with a furiously hard yank and, with my left hand, pulled the collar over my head. She let out an oomph when she slammed into me.
In a deft move that defied the wine in my system, I brought one leg behind both of hers and simultaneously pushed her chest with both my hands. She was off her feet and landing hard on her back in the time it took me to break free. I could hear her scrambling to her feet and screeching in rage as she struggled to come after me, but I was younger, faster and, sadly, had a lot of experience escaping people mean
ing to do me harm.
The temptation was to run back in the direction I’d come but I had no keys for my Jeep and that would be exactly the direction Ebba would assume I was going. Instead I took a sharp left at one point hoping that the sound of her own footsteps as she ran after me would cover up the stomping of mine going through brush off the trail. I knew from looking in Ron’s trail book that a creek fed the lake, and a quarter mile north along its banks was a small community of older creekside cottages. I’m sure there was a separate road unaffected by the spring water that would access that community. Maybe I’d get lucky and find someone home there who could help me or a car driving by.
The clouds began to roll in, and for the first time in weeks it would be a starless night. I tried to move quietly through the thick brush but whenever I slowed my pace I could hear Ebba’s footsteps also crunching on twigs. The wine made me feel clumsy and slow, and for an older sick person, Ebba seemed to be keeping up because whenever I’d pause I could hear her thrashing through the bushes.
Abruptly I was in a clearing, and to my left was a walking bridge that crossed over the creek. I could see more cottages on the other side and some had lights on but I stopped short. The bridge was at least fifty feet long and in the wide open. I’d be a clear target if I began walking across and Ebba caught up. The bushes were rustling nearby and she would soon be on top of me.
Instead of crossing over I decided to duck underneath the bridge. Thick blackberry brambles with long thorns poked and scratched at me but also made a perfect cover. I sat there, my bum on the damp creek bed and my arms wrapped around my knees. I curled my lips over my teeth, fearful that Ebba would hear them chattering. Footsteps sounded approaching the bridge. She was coming. I held my breath as the sound of her feet could be heard on the wood planks over my head and then they stopped there.
“Goddamn little bitch,” Ebba muttered.
She stomped her feet directly above my head before walking forward on the bridge a few feet and then changing her mind and coming back. My heart pounded so hard that I was sure she’d be able to hear it even as I could hear the sound of her footsteps walking away.
A Grave Search (Bodies of Evidence) Page 21
