I thought of Edna Critchley and her friends who met for coffee at Kresge’s forty years before. Mothers of young children have enjoyed the company of other moms since the beginning of time. But the world had changed since Edna was raising her young son. The women who met for lunch in that church basement would never have left their kids unattended.
There was no vehicle in the yard, but Al came out on the veranda when I drove in. She wasn’t holding her rifle, and the dogs were nowhere in sight. When I got out of the car, she came down the path toward me.
“Is Jen here?” I called out.
“No.”
“Al, something strange is going on. I’m worried.”
“Jen took off in the pickup an hour ago.”
“Where?”
“Outta the blue, she calls out, ‘I’m takin’ the truck.’ Then I hear the kitchen door slam.” A frown creased her face. “She’d just got an email. It was still on the screen when she left.”
I raised an eyebrow. “From whom?”
“My sister.”
“Ivy?”
“Yeah. She wanted to meet Jen.”
“Where?”
“Ivy told her to come to the back door of the Norris Cassidy branch. Can’t figure out why Ivy would want to meet Jen.”
“The truck isn’t in the parking lot behind the branch,” I said. “They must’ve gone for a drive. Al, the bikers who’ve been coming around…were they here today?”
She grimaced. “No.”
I told her about their visit to Black Bear Lake two nights before, and about my car not starting and the cut telephone line that morning. “They wanted me to stay at home today.”
She glanced in the direction of the woods behind the house. “If they turn up here, nobody will be around. Ruby’s gone to Huntsville in the van. And I’m coming into town with you. I don’t want Jen drivin’ around in the pickup. Cops will spot her.” She went to the passenger side of the Hyundai and opened the door. “Let’s go.”
“You’re not worried they might…take something?” I asked before I start up the engine.
“Nothin’ to take. We wound down the operation. Had problems with the generator, then those guys showed up. Ruby delivered the last of our product this morning. We’re gonna clear out. Put the property up for sale.”
I expected to meet Foster on the winding lane, but we reached the highway without passing anyone. We drove along in silence. I figured Nuala would be at the branch by now. I pictured her dressed in one of her power suits behind her big mahogany desk. Something scratched at the edge of my memory.
Al was the first to speak. “How did you get to town if your car wouldn’t start?”
I gave her a brief rundown of my trip over the lakes.
She looked at me with new respect. “You drove over the lakes on a snowmobile.”
I nodded nonchalantly, trying to appear as if that was something I did every day. “Jen got a letter from Lyle just before she came up here. Do you know what he told her in it?”
“Nope. The less Ruby and me know, the better for us. That’s what she said.”
“It sounds like Ivy and Jen were in touch before today. Did you find other emails from your sister?”
“Not a single one. Jen must’ve deleted them.”
“She and Ivy aren’t exactly strangers.”
“Ivy was six years old when Jen left here.”
As I drove down Braeloch’s Main Street, I kept my eyes peeled for Jamie and Ivy on the sidewalks. At the branch, the Closed sign was still on the front door and the parking lot was empty.
“Where would they go for lunch?” I asked Al.
“There’s a place out on the highway. Friends of ours run it. Ruby and me took Jen there for supper a few nights back.”
“How far?”
“Keep drivin’ through town. It’s a little ways down the road.”
Five minutes later, we rounded a bend in the highway and a rambling gray building, Christmas lights still strung along its eaves, came into view. Becky’s Bistro, its sign said. A dozen or so vehicles were parked in front of it.
“Here,” Al said, and I pulled into the lot.
A statuesque black woman, a big smile on her face, came over to us as soon as we were inside. “How you doin’, girl?” she said to Al, and the two women embraced.
“Jen been in today, Becks?” Al asked.
Becky shook her head. “Not yet.”
“Well, put us in the snug. Might as well have us some lunch. Somethin’ quick.”
Becky took us through a set of swinging doors to a small room behind the main dining room. “I’ll bring you the daily special. Anything to drink?”
“Water for me, babe,” Al said.
“Coffee,” I said.
Minutes later, Becky returned with bowls of fragrant jambalaya and a basket of sourdough bread. I set upon the food like a starving woman.
I finished first, and sipped my coffee until Al was mopping her bowl with a hunk of bread. “Did the bikers kill Lyle?” I asked.
She looked at me with troubled eyes. “I don’t know. But it seems like too much of a coincidence, don’t it? Nothin’ much ever happens around here. Then those guys show up and Lyle gets killed.”
“Was Lyle a friend of yours? A customer?”
Al tried not to smile. “Ruby and me didn’t run in the same circles as Lyle Critchley.”
“And Jamie hasn’t said what she’s up to?”
“No, I told you that. But she’s up to something. Spends her days on the computer.”
“Has she mentioned a Ken Burrows?”
“Never heard that name.”
I took a $20 bill out of a zippered pocket in my jacket and put it on the table. “Let’s get back to the branch.”
“Yeah.” Al got out of her chair.
I followed her. She was halfway through the swinging doors, when she froze and backed into the snug.
I stepped out of her way. “What is it?”
“They’re here.”
“Jamie and Ivy?”
“No, the guys who’ve been hasslin’ us.”
I nudged one of the doors open a few inches and looked out. Leather Vest and the biker with the squashed nose—his name was Weasel, I remembered—were seated at a table in the front of the room. Weasel was hunched over his plate, but Leather Vest was looking right at me. My heart dropped into my stomach.
I quickly closed the doors. “He saw me.”
“We’ll go out the back way.” Al headed to the door at the back of the snug. She opened the door and we raced to the car.
“Hold on, ladies!”
Leather Vest and Weasel were barging toward us.
“Get in the car,” Al said. “Quick!”
“Not so fast.” Leather Vest took his right hand out of a pocket of his parka. He held a gun in it. He stepped up beside me, and Weasel went over to Al and put an arm around her shoulders.
She tried to shake him off. “Get yer hands off me!”
The restaurant’s front door opened and Becky came out. “You guys haven’t paid your bill.” Then she looked at Al and me. “What’s going on?”
Leather Vest turned to her and brandished his gun. “Get back inside and close the door. We’ll settle up with you later.”
Becky did as she was told, and Leather Vest pointed the gun at me. “You wouldn’t listen, would you? Now we’re gonna have a proper talk. A business meetin’. Turn ’round.”
I turned and saw something metal glint in Weasel’s hand. “Get over to the gray van,” Leather Vest spoke into my ear. The gun poked into the small of my back.
With one head, he unlocked the rear door of their panel van. Inside was a large wire cage. “For our dogs.” He gave a nasty laugh, opened the wire door and pushed me forward.
I scrambled into the smelly cage and knelt on a pile of filthy rags. I put a hand down beside me, and touched something hard and cold. A bone. I jerked my hand away from it and scrubbed my palm on my trousers.
&
nbsp; Then Al was beside me. “Becky will call the cops.”
I wanted to ask what good that would do us once the van left the bistro’s parking lot. Instead, I reached out and rattled the cage door. It was locked.
At least they didn’t have Tommy. But what did Leather Vest mean by a business meeting? Al and Ruby might have closed down their operation, but would these guys believe that? They’d got it into their heads that I was a distributor and they wanted me out of the way. Were they about to cut me—quite literally—out of the competition? A river of ice ran down my back.
The motor started and the van backed up. Then it swung around, throwing us to one side. It zoomed forward, tires shrieking on the pavement. Al and I fell backwards in the cage.
She moaned. “We’re in deep shit!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I huddled beside Al in the dark, taking deep breaths to calm myself.
“Wish we could see where we’re goin’,” she muttered, echoing my thoughts.
We’d been on the highway about ten minutes when the van slowed down and turned right. We jounced along a road. Loose gravel bounced off the undercarriage like popcorn.
“Potholes.” Al’s voice rose in pitch. “Cripes, this is our lane!”
The van careened down a steep incline, and I clutched the cage wire. When I’d taken this lane, I’d hugged its shoulder in case a vehicle appeared around a curve. At the speed we were traveling, we were a collision just waiting to happen.
We finally came to a stop. Two doors banged shut, then daylight poured into our quarters. Weasel turned a key in the padlock on the cage. “Out y’get, ladies!”
I held on to the cage wire and maneuvered myself out of the van. There were no other vehicles in the yard. If Ruby was at home, she must have put her vehicle in the barn.
Leather Vest poked my back with the gun. “No funny business.”
When Al was out, Weasel locked the rear door. Leather Vest gave us a bow and gestured toward the path. “Up to the house, ladies. We’ll be right behind you in case Ruby starts shootin’.”
Al’s eyes darted around the yard, taking in the tire tracks in the mud. She was wondering whether Ruby had returned. Then she led the way along the path and up the stairs to the veranda. At the front door, she paused for a few moments.
“Open the door,” Leather Vest said behind us, “or d’we hafta shoot our way in?”
Al glared at him, then bent to tinker with a combination lock.
“Inside, everyone,” Leather Vest said when she pushed the door open.
Fang raced down the hall and leaped at Leather Vest. Al caught the dog’s collar. “Good boy, Fang,” she said.
“Where’s the other mutt?” Leather Vest asked.
“Ruby took Killer into town,” Al said tersely.
A potbellied stove sat in the middle of the front room with a rocking chair and two armchairs pulled up in front of it. A table behind the stove was covered with stacks of paper. The chairs around the table held more paperwork, as did the buffet and the top of the china cabinet. With one hand on Fang’s collar, Al led the way down the hall to a large kitchen at the back of the house. She pulled out a chair from a scarred wooden table and sat down. Fang stood beside her, growling.
“Got any beer?” Leather Vest asked as he sat across from her.
“Fridge,” she said.
“Weasel.” Leather Vest pointed the gun at the refrigerator. “Get me two while yer at it.”
Weasel moved toward the fridge. Fang followed him, a low growl emanating from his throat.
“Get this mutt away from me,” Weasel cried.
“Fang!” Al said. “You said you had dogs.” Fang returned to her side and she grabbed his collar.
“Yeah, we got dogs,” Weasel said. “Not crazy mutts like yours.”
“Is there a washroom I can use?” I asked.
Al gestured to the back of the kitchen and I turned in that direction.
“Hang on, Blondie,” Leather Vest said. “Weasel here will escort you to the shitter.”
Weasel banged two bottles of Molson on the table, then led me to a small washroom beside the back door. He looked inside before he let me enter. “Don’t take all day.”
As soon as I closed the door, I yanked open the window, but I could only raise it a few inches. I pushed on the glass, but it wouldn’t budge. I nearly cried in frustration. Where the hell was Foster?
When I returned to the kitchen, Leather Vest pointed his gun at the chair beside Al. “Take a seat, Blondie.”
How I could convince them that I had nothing to do with the grow-op? My mind scrambled for ideas as I watched Weasel sit on the ancient couch facing the table and pop the cap off a beer.
The telephone rang on the kitchen wall. We all turned to look at it. Al made a move to get up.
“Back in yer seat, Al,” Leather Vest said. “Let ’er ring.”
We listened to the phone ring—once, twice, three, four times. When it finally stopped, Leather Vest got of his chair and came over to me. His beer belly was just a few inches from my face.
“Too bad, you wouldn’t take our advice, Blondie,” he said. “Told you to get outta the picture.”
“Leave her alone,” Al said. “She got nothin’ to do with us.”
“Nothin’?” Leather Vest said. “Then why do I keep seein’ you two together?”
“Her daughter’s a friend,” Al said.
“Daughter?” Leather Vest said. “Pretty little thing that went off with Ruby Saturday night? Were they talkin’ business or was that a quickie? Must’ve been business. Girl like her wouldn’t go for an ugly dyke like Ruby.”
Al’s face reddened. She tightened her grip on Fang’s collar until her knuckles turned white.
“She’d have more choices than you, Al,” he said.
“Fuck you!”
He smacked the side of her face with the gun.
Her hands flew to her face. Fang hurled himself at Leather Vest.
Leather Vest pointed the gun at the dog and pressed the trigger. The shot rang through house. Fang dropped to the floor, whimpered and was still.
“No!” Al screamed. “Fang!” She hurled herself on top of the dog’s lifeless form.
“You’ll get back in that chair if you don’t want to join him,” Leather Vest snarled.
She looked up at him, her face wet with tears. “You sick bastard. You killed my dog.” Then she lunged at him.
I grabbed both her arms and pulled her back into the chair. She squirmed for a few moments, then sank back in the seat. Her head slumped on her chest.
“Sit back, both of youse.” Leather Vest trained his gun on us. “I got more bullets.”
I tasted bile in my mouth. They weren’t making empty threats.
“Ruby and me, we shut down the operation,” Al said in a flat voice, her eyes on Fang’s body. “Ruby took the last of the product to Huntsville this mornin’. That’s it. We’re done.”
“No siree,” Leather Vest said. “You gals are gonna keep on just like you been doin’.”
“It’s all gone,” Al said. “We got nothin’ left.”
“Then get yerself some more fuckin’ plants and make ’em grow. Where are yer sheds?”
Al stared at Fang.
“I asked you a question!”
Her face crumpled with grief.
“Check out the property,” Leather Vest barked at Weasel. “Sheds’ll be back in the woods. Look for a path through the snow.”
He went back to the chair, turned it around and sat down. “Well, ladies,” he said when Weasel had let himself out the back door, “we want in on the business. That means Blondie and her daughter’s got to step aside. Now, there’s a couple of ways we can do it. I can pull this trigger and Weasel can dump Blondie into one of the lakes that’s breakin’ up ’round here. She won’t surface for a few weeks.”
I refused to let what he’d said get to me. Instead, I tried to catch Al’s eye. With Weasel gone, there were two of us and
just one biker—although he had a gun. Could we get hold of it?
Leather Vest grinned malevolently. “Or we can have us a guarantee. The boy.”
The anger and frustration that had been building for the past hour erupted. “Don’t you dare go near Tommy!”
He continued to grin. “Weasel and me, we’ll take the boy on a little holiday. He’ll like hangin’ out with the guys fer a change. You can talk to him on the phone every day. Stay in line and he’ll be fine.”
Prickles of sweat skittered down my back.
“You guys will regret this,” Al said, holding a hand on the side of her face.
Leather Vest laughed. “Sure we will!”
The back door opened and Weasel burst into the kitchen. “Al wasn’t bullshittin’. Two sheds back there in a clearing are picked clean. Not a leaf in ’em.”
Leather Vest stood, grabbed his chair with one hand and plunked it down beside Al. “Here’s the way it’s gonna be, sister.” He sat on the chair and leaned over until his face was inches from Al’s. “You and Ruby get yerselves a new stash of plants, and get ’em quick. If you know what’s good fer youse.”
Al studied the ceiling. A muscle twitched on the side of her face.
“Got that?” Leather Vest shouted.
She turned her head and gave him a small nod.
“Good.” He got to his feet and handed Weasel the gun. “You stay here with the ladies. I’m goin’ to Black Bear Lake for the boy.”
Weasel took the gun, pointed it at me and grinned. Then he flopped down on the couch and retrieved his bottle of beer, his gun still aimed at me.
At the back door, Leather Vest paused. “On yer best behavior, ladies. Weasel can be a mite trigger-happy.”
Despair flooded my heart. Leather Vest wouldn’t find Tommy at the house, but it would only be a matter of time before he tracked him down. I had to warn Celia, get Tommy out of the area.
Outside, the van started up and roared down the lane.
“Another brew, Weasel?” Al asked.
He studied the beer in his bottle and nodded. “Don’ mind if I do.” He lifted the bottle to his mouth and sucked back the rest of the Molson.
Black Water Page 19
