Cornered in Conard County

by Rachel Lee

  “Not if it’s this county,” he agreed. “So what then?”

  “They took it down. I doubt anyone noticed it.”

  He wished he was sure of that. “Does it have your full name?”

  She shook her head. “I go by D. K. Lake. It’s not even my real middle initial.”

  Good enough, he thought sourly, even with a wrong middle initial. If he’d discovered somehow that she was working for this company, he’d have no trouble finding her now no matter how common the last name Lake was—and it was. “So nobody’s thinking about personal security for you guys?” He found that hard to stomach.

  “We’re just a bunch of graphics designers. Most of the people we deal with are ad companies, indie filmmakers...it’s not like we’re putting our life stories out there.” She looked down. “Except today. I raised Cain. I had to tell them about my brother.”

  He took a step closer. “And you didn’t like that.”

  “Of course I didn’t!” She rubbed her arms from shoulder to wrists, one after the other as of trying to push something away. “It’s like an invisible stain. My brother is a murderer. Worse, he killed our parents. What does that say about him, about me, about our family?”

  Oh, God, he was going to be wishing he had a graduate degree in psychology before much longer. Opening and closing his hands, he tried to find something to say, something that might actually comfort her.

  The only thing that occurred to him was a question. “Do you really believe that, Dory? Do you think you could ever have done what your brother did?”

  Her entire face froze, grew still and motionless. For a few seconds, he feared he’d pushed her back into the horror, but then she shook her head. “No,” she said. “I don’t think I could have, ever. But who can know that, Cadell? Perfectly ordinary people go over the edge all the time.”

  “I’m a cop,” he reminded her. He nudged her back to one of the chairs at the table and brought her one of those orange soft drinks she seemed to like so much. He unscrewed the cap before he put it on the table.

  “So?” she said. “You’re a cop. What’s that mean?”

  “I like this town because it’s pretty peaceful most of the time. But I’ve worked in much bigger towns. What you saw your brother do? I’ve seen that and a helluva lot more. There’s no limit to what human beings are capable of.”

  She tilted her head, looking up at him. “And that’s comforting why?”

  “I’m not sure it’s comforting. But I can tell you something—there were warning signs in every one of those cases. Something askew. Maybe nobody noticed it in time, but those signs were there. Tensions building. Things being said or hinted at. A withdrawal, maybe. But by the time an investigation was complete, we almost invariably had a profile of someone who’d been sending out warnings like invisible flares for months, maybe years. Very, very few cases erupted out of nowhere, and when they did drugs were often involved.”

  She nodded slowly. He slid into the other chair across from her. “The thing is,” he continued, “the vast majority of people never kill, and even fewer of them kill in the way your brother did. He’s in a very small group. There’s no reason to even wonder if you could do what he did. To feel like it’s a taint of some kind. Your parents weren’t murderers, were they? Have you ever wanted to do something like that?”

  “God, no!” She shuddered as her eyes widened.

  “You have no reason to be ashamed because your brother went off the rails. One of the cops I used to work with back in Seattle had a brother who was a con man. You couldn’t ask for two more different guys, and they came out of the same genetic stock into the same environment. Ralph hated it, though. He was frustrated, he couldn’t talk sense to his brother, and occasionally we’d arrest the guy and put him away for a few years. Ralph took some ribbing, but if ever anyone had an excuse to want to kill someone it was Ralph. His brother was good at preying on people, but as angry as it made Ralph feel, he’d put his brother in handcuffs and bring him in. He never tried to hurt him.”

  “Wow,” she said quietly. “That’s awful.”

  “It sure was for Ralph. He was convinced it was holding him back in his career. I don’t know if it was. I mean, the higher you go, the harder it is to move up because there are fewer slots. But Ralph believed the department never quite trusted him. I know all us guys who worked with him trusted him completely.”

  Deciding he’d said enough for now, and feeling thirsty himself, he helped himself to a soft drink from her fridge, choosing cola.

  When he came back to the table and sat, Dory had reached for a paper napkin and was creasing it absently. “I’ve always felt that something must be wrong with me,” she admitted. Then she raised her head and smiled faintly. “Well, obviously there are some things wrong with me by other people’s estimation. I’m mostly a hermit, I don’t trust people much at all...but I’m talking about something else.”

  “I know you are.”

  She compressed her lips and nodded. “When something like that happens so close to you, especially in your own family, maybe you always feel different.”

  “Maybe.” He tilted the bottle to his lips and drank deeply, figuring he’d said as much as he could or should. From what she’d mentioned, he gathered she’d had plenty of therapy. He had no business mucking around with whatever peace she’d managed to make.

  “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting your work,” he said. It suddenly occurred to him that he’d come over uninvited, meaning only to stay about a half hour, but with what had happened he’d been here much longer.

  “Not really,” she said. “I put in most of a day before I erupted at my team about the website.”

  “Well, I’d still better go.” He glanced at his watch and realized it was getting late. Flash dozed near Dory, but he’d wake at the slightest sound. She was in good paws, he decided. He also decided not to tell her about George yet.

  She’d been through hell tonight, all because of his question.

  Dory sighed and went back into her office. He and Flash followed her, and as soon as she sat Dory seemed to be watching her simulation intently, was probably at least halfway back into her work. Time to go. Cadell opened his mouth to say good-night.

  But then she spoke, surprising him. “So your wife couldn’t handle being married to a cop?”

  Astonished, he didn’t answer immediately, but then tried for lightness. “Please be sure to include the ex part when calling her my wife. And her name was Brenda.”

  She turned from her screen, her hand still on her mouse, and her eyes danced a bit. In that instant she looked positively edible. “Kinda bitter?”

  “That isn’t the word I’d use. Not anymore anyway. I was certainly angry, back then. I felt as if she’d been lying to me from the moment we met, although that probably wasn’t a fair feeling. She just had no concept of what she was getting into, and once she got there she didn’t like it. A longer engagement might have been wise. In that case it probably would have helped.” He shrugged. “But you never know. It only lasted two years, but that was plenty for both of us. I’m just glad we didn’t have kids, because that would have made it a tragedy.”

  “It would indeed,” she said quietly, her face shadowing. Well, of course. He’d reminded her of what it was like to lose parents.

  For a half minute he actually contemplated just keeping his mouth shut around her. Then he realized that walking on eggshells would be unsettling for both of them. He decided to offer her another nugget of truth before he left.

  “With Brenda,” he said, “I learned something. At the time I just wanted to be with her, and I didn’t think about giving her the wrong idea. I switched quite a few of my shifts with my buddies so Brenda and I could have a night out, do something she wanted to do, whatever. So if she expected that to continue, it was my fault and nobody else’s.”
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br />   She nodded slowly, her face smoothing again. Dang, she was beautiful. Hard to believe that so much ugliness resided in her memory and haunted her life.

  “So it couldn’t continue?” she asked.

  “Nope. My buddies were great, but eventually it became a problem. The brass started objecting, I got a few sarcastic comments about why I didn’t just tell them when I’d be available to work...”

  “Ouch.” She winced, then smiled. “That would do it.”

  “It sure did. So I have to take a measure of responsibility for Brenda’s disappointment.” It had a taken him a while to face that, but it was a lesson well learned, and one good reason not to tiptoe around Dory. Only honesty could build her trust. If she ever built any real trust in him.

  He stirred. “Anyway, I’ve taken up your entire evening, and that wasn’t my intention. I’ll be off now.”

  Something in the way her blue eyes looked at him seemed almost like an appeal. But what kind of appeal? He couldn’t imagine what she might want from him. This was a woman who’d told him at least twice that she preferred to be a hermit.

  Suddenly, moved by an impulse that even to him seemed to come out of nowhere, he squatted before her, not touching her. “You’re beautiful, you know,” he murmured. “You remind me of a Botticelli angel.”

  She blinked, looking uncertain. Enough, he thought. He could kick his behind when he got home. Straightening, he turned toward the door.

  “Cadell?”

  He half turned. “Yeah?”

  “You’re a hunk.”

  Startled, he looked directly at her, then began to laugh. “Imagine the painting that would come out of that.” Then he resumed his exit, pausing only to say good-night to Flash.

  * * *

  DORY LAUGHED QUIETLY. The painting that would come out of that? An angel and a cop? Or a cowboy? It was humorous, all right.

  But gradually her humor faded. The night had closed in around the house, and she felt it as an almost physical pressure. “Flash, guard.”

  He obeyed, sitting beside her, alert.

  Alone but not alone. Who would have thought she’d be so grateful for a dog? And what had happened just now with Cadell? She’d revealed things to him during her flashback that she was sure she’d never told anyone but her therapist. She could hear her own voice as she told the story of that night in third person, as if she were removed from it, yet still sounding a bit childlike.

  He’d handled it well. Why not? He was a cop—he’d probably seen it all. Part of her was surprised that when all that had burst out the triggers of memory had made her turn to him, a near stranger. She didn’t do that.

  She tried to lose herself in work, but her mind refused to cooperate. The door to the past had opened tonight, and she felt it was as fresh as yesterday.

  Damn.

  Then, turning to her other computer, she brought up an image she had constructed of that terrible night. She didn’t know why she had felt compelled to render it with near photo realism, but she had done it a few years ago. There it sat, just as she had seen it as a child.

  What good did that do? What earthly use could it have? What part of her mind needed it? Did she think that by looking at it over and over again that she’d become desensitized?

  Did she really want to become desensitized to such horrific violence?

  No.

  But she sat staring at it as if mesmerized. Her brother, they had said later when she could understand such things, had evidently been a drug user. Cocaine could wreck the mind and turn some people violent. Blame it on cocaine?

  Hitting a key, she made the image vanish and considered just erasing it. It held no answers for her. There could be no real answer to what had happened that night. No satisfactory explanation for that kind of act.

  She heard a ping and turned to see that Reggie, the team leader, had reentered the chat. Looking for her.

  D. K. You there?

  She hesitated then typed her answer. Yeah.

  I’m really sorry about the mess up on the website. I just want to be sure you’re okay.

  Yeah, she replied. Like she was ever really okay.

  The webmaster fixed your location. You’re back to where you used to be.

  Thanks, Reggie.

  No problem. Countable seconds passed before he typed something else. Look, we’re all worried about you. You need anything at all, ping me or Skype me. I’m usually within a few feet of this damn machine.

  Me, too. Played any good games lately? Anything to get off this subject.

  Nothing new, he admitted. I’m still trying to beat the goblin at the gate so I can get to the reward. Damn smart goblin.

  Her spirits lifted more as they chatted about the game they sometimes played together, although she wasn’t really into spending hours gaming the way some were. The advanced games that might hold her attention involved teaming up, and that made her as uneasy on the computer as it did in real life.

  After a few more minutes, she signed off the chat claiming fatigue, but she didn’t feel fatigued at all.

  She didn’t want to go to sleep. She didn’t want another nightmare.

  Closing her eyes, she thought about Cadell, surprised that she’d told him he was a hunk. Even more surprised that he thought she looked like an angel.

  Forget Cadell, she told herself. How could she be sure he wouldn’t rip her heart to shreds the way George had? Maybe not with violence, but in some other way.

  She sighed, rested her chin in her hand and tried to study her scene. It sat there frozen, waiting for her attention to the misplaced vortex. There were a lot of items she needed to add, all of them listed in a file she’d received from Reggie. Every one of them had to be constructed. They weren’t, unfortunately, items that the team had in its library from previous builds.

  De novo. From scratch. She usually loved the challenge. Tonight she wasn’t loving much of anything.

  Flash stood, stretched and shook himself out before resuming his position at her side. Life with her must be boring for that poor dog, she thought.

  Time to take him into the backyard for a walk. Maybe she should bring his tennis ball and let him chase it a few times. It’d sure make him feel better. Maybe it would even help her shake off the cobwebs of horror, grief and fear that kept brushing her soul and making her want to shiver.

  As soon as she picked up the ball, Flash leaped to his feet, wagging his tail like mad. Oh, yeah, he knew what was coming, and the sight of his eagerness made her smile.

  “Let’s go,” she said and headed for the back door. It was nearing midnight, but Flash was good about not barking, so running around for ten minutes or so wouldn’t disturb the neighbors.

  It was not until she reached the back door and opened it that she realized something had changed tonight. She could not make herself cross the threshold. The night seemed like a huge, solid wall, holding her back.

  Panic attack, her mind registered. God, it had been a while. What the hell was going on with her this evening? It was as if whatever progress she had made over time had been stripped from her.

  Then Flash, right beside her, growled into the darkness.

  Chapter Seven

  Cadell heard the call come in when he was halfway home. He turned his vehicle around immediately, lit the roof lights and hit unsafe speeds.

  When he pulled up near Dory’s house, there were two other cars, lights swirling around the neighborhood. They were collecting a crowd on the surrounding porches. He ignored them, only one thought on his mind.

  They let him through and into the house. Dory sat rigidly on her couch, Flash on guard in front of her, holding two city cops and a deputy at bay. No one was going to get near her as far as Flash was concerned.

  “Hey, Cadell,” said Dan Casey, the dep
uty. “Ms. Lake said her dog growled at something in the backyard. We didn’t find any sign of intrusion.”

  “Dory. Dory!”

  She looked at him, and a shudder ran through her.

  “Tell Flash to play. We’re here.”

  She nodded jerkily. “Flash. Play.”

  At once the dog eased up but remained watchful. Damn, that one had been well trained, Cadell thought. Thoroughly attached to Dory, too.

  As Flash relaxed, so did the other officers. They all had a healthy respect for a trained guard dog.

  “So what happened?” he asked Dory.

  “I don’t know. I was taking Flash out back. I figured he needed a walk and a little play. Almost as soon as I opened the back door, he started growling. I figured I shouldn’t ignore him.”

  “Good decision,” Cadell agreed.

  “But I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble.”

  “No trouble at all,” said one of the city cops, Matt Hamilton. “That’s what we’re here for. Besides, I agree with Deputy Marcus here. Never ignore your watchdog.”

  A short while later, the others left, promising to take another turn around the backyard and the alley behind before they left.

  Cadell remained. Dory looked at him. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “You must have been nearly home.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” There was an ancient wood rocker across from the dubious sofa, and he decided to sit in it.

  “Would Flash have reacted that way to an animal? Maybe a cat or another dog?”

  “He shouldn’t, but I could test it for you tomorrow if you want.”

  She shook her head. “I’m sure you have a life to take care of, and not just me. You’ve been wonderful, but...”

  “But what?” he said. “I don’t get to choose how I spend my time? Or are you telling me to get lost, that I’m bothering you?”

  She gasped. “I didn’t mean that at all.”