Hidden

by Karen E. Olson

  ‘You’re one to talk,’ Ian says, anger curling around each word. ‘You’re the reason the account was frozen, aren’t you? You told him. You told him where the money was.’

  So here it is. The showdown.

  He was wrong. Zeke knew about everything a month before he showed up that day at my house. It was the server raid. That’s how he ended up with me, after his people traced my IP address through the maze I’d left behind.

  I think about what I am about to do, transferring money out of Paul Michaels’s accounts. ‘Who is Paul Michaels, Ian?’

  Ian takes a deep breath. ‘He’s no one, Tina. No one at all.’

  I still can’t figure out, and I’m trying to, when another possibility slams into my head. ‘It’s Tony DeMarco, isn’t it? It’s a dummy account set up to launder money, isn’t it? You’re getting back at him, for everything he’s made you do in the last fifteen years.’

  ‘It’s not like he’ll miss it.’ Ian shakes his head. ‘I never knew you to do something so stupid, Tina. Why did you do it? Did you think you were finally safe here?’

  He is talking about the postcard. I told myself that sending my father a little piece of the peace I’d found would help him die. But it was never about him. It was all about me. I sent that postcard thinking I’d gotten away, and I was going to show everyone up. Instead, it was the beginning of the end of everything.

  ‘Not for nothing, Tina, but I tried to warn you when I first got here. I told you I wasn’t the only one. I didn’t want you to get hurt.’

  ‘This from the man who’s holding a gun on me. A man who wanted me to steal for him before I took off again.’

  ‘You know I wouldn’t use the gun on you.’

  I stare at him, incredulous. ‘How do I know that? It’s not as though you haven’t used it before. What about Zeke? What about Carmine?’

  ‘Carmine was going to kill me. I had no choice.’ He reaches over and touches my cheek.

  I flinch and take a step back. He pulls his hand away and looks over at the laptop. I have not transferred the money yet.

  ‘Do it,’ he says softly. ‘And then I’ll leave you alone.’

  ‘How are you going to get away?’

  ‘I can stay underground, just like you.’ He pauses. ‘Just do it, Tina.’

  ‘What about Amelie?’

  Ian grabs the laptop and thrusts it at me. ‘Make the fucking transfer, Tina,’ he growls.

  I tell myself that it’s just Tony DeMarco’s money, that it’s just a number, it’s just an account I’ve hacked into, like I used to hack into my father’s business. I took money from him, too, moved it around so he’d have to look for it. I left traces of myself because I’d wanted to get caught. Zeke found me in those traces – that’s how he knew what I could do, that’s what led him to me by the pool that day. It was another mistake. Trying to show up my father.

  I take the laptop and put it on the desk. I pull up the chair and sit down in front of it. My hands are steady, as though I am not being forced to do this. Maybe I’m not. Not really. But I do know that this is the only way I’m going to get rid of him.

  I am already in the account, but to transfer I need to go elsewhere.

  ‘You have to tell me where I’m transferring the money.’ My voice is calm; I can hardly recognize it as my own.

  Ian seems to realize that I am doing what he wants, so he tells me.

  ‘Go sit on the bed. It might take a few more minutes,’ I say.

  He goes, obedient, happy that I am finally doing what he wants. I can’t just transfer the money seamlessly from one account to the other. I have to look for where I make a wire transfer. This is what I did before, and it is not so different. I find the portal I need. I can feel Ian’s eyes on my back, but he doesn’t know the language, so while I am searching for codes, he gets distracted, picks up one of the magazines by the bed and leafs through it.

  I do what I need to do, and it is only a few keystrokes from there, and then I am out, signing out of the VPN, wiping the laptop clean before I close it. Ian swings his legs over the side of the bed.

  ‘Done already?’

  I nod and get up. ‘I think it’s time to leave.’

  Ian stands and puts his arms around me, his mouth on mine, and for a brief second I feel it, what we’d had before and what we’d rediscovered. But then it’s gone. I step back, away from him, even though his hands are still at my waist and his eyes are smoky with passion.

  I shake my head. ‘I can’t, Ian. It’s over. Really over.’

  ‘Tina—’

  ‘Go back to Amelie. Go back to your wife.’ I turn my back, wondering if it is the right thing to do with a man I have just spurned and who has a gun.

  ‘Tina.’ His tone is soft, and I feel his hand on my shoulder.

  I turn, curiosity getting the better of me. I cannot read his expression, but something is going on; he wants to tell me something. I wait.

  ‘We have to leave as soon as we can.’

  I can’t believe what he’s saying. ‘What do you mean, we?’

  ‘Come with me. We can get away tonight. No one will know.’

  I struggle with what he’s saying. ‘What about your wife?’

  ‘New start.’ He stares at me, and the rage mixes with a heaviness, a sadness.

  ‘We had that before. Look how it turned out. And how do I know that the FBI isn’t waiting outside the door for me? That your plan to get away means they’ll take me out of here in handcuffs and you get your freedom?’

  ‘Tina.’ He reaches for me, and I let him put his arms around me. I slide my hands around his waist as I lift my face to his and kiss him. He responds, and I feel him grow hard as he rubs against me. For a moment I let him think that maybe I will take him to bed, but then I slip out of his embrace and back up, my arms behind me so he knows it’s over.

  ‘I can’t. We can’t.’

  ‘I’m giving you a way out.’

  There is no way out, at least not with him. I shake my head. He sees it now, that I’m telling him the truth. That even if he finds me again, it will never be the same.

  He hangs his head, then straightens up, picks up the duffel bag. ‘OK, Tina. Good luck.’ He starts for the door, his gait slow, as though I am going to stop him.

  I don’t. He opens the door and I hold my breath, waiting for Frank Cooper or the FBI to come barging in, but no one is there. He turns and smiles at me. ‘You’ve got a head start. They’re looking for me, too. For such a small island, there are a lot of places to hide here. I don’t blame you for staying here so long. But if you want to save your ass, Tina, you have to leave. Now.’

  The door closes and he is gone.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  I begin to shake, my knees give out and I sink to the floor, hyperventilating. I bring my hand out from behind me and stare at the gun that I have lifted from Ian’s waistband.

  I don’t want to use it, but the familiar heaviness of it, its solidness, feels comfortable in my hand. Despite everything that happened.

  In one swift movement, I drop down to the floor and pull the backpack out from under the bed. Cash spills out of it. I need to find a way to make it less conspicuous. I spot the towels Lillian has left for me on the dresser, and I go get them. Carefully and slowly, as if I have all the time in the world, I wrap the cash up in the soft, plush towels. I leave a little out that I put in the front pocket for easy access. I slide the laptop inside as well, tucking the towels around it. The gun lay on the floor next to me. What to do with that? I am wearing yoga pants and a fleece jacket with small pockets. Nowhere to hide it. It has to go in the backpack, too. I tuck it between the towels. It won’t be easy to get to if I need it, but I have no choice.

  I sit on the floor for a few minutes after the backpack is ready. I look around the room and think about where I was last week, having my weekly Friday dinner with Steve at Club Soda.

  I get up and sling the backpack around my shoulder. I have already paid Lillian for the room,
but I leave a little more for her on the dresser, just because she’s going to make breakfast in the morning but I won’t be here to eat it and she will have wasted her time.

  I know when I get outside that Steve will be there, waiting for me. I wish that he weren’t, but I need him and I am grateful for him. He watches me as I walk around the front of the Explorer and climb into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut behind me. I reach around for the seatbelt before he speaks.

  ‘You OK?’

  I nod.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  I think about that duffel bag and how much I have lost. ‘Did you see him leave?’

  He knows whom I am talking about. He cocks his head toward the road in front of us. ‘There.’

  ‘Let’s see if we can’t find him. He’s got something I need.’

  ‘The duffel bag?’ Steve doesn’t wait for an answer, he just starts the SUV and we begin to move forward. I strain my eyes to try to see Ian somewhere ahead of us, but I see nothing but darkness beyond the headlights. Until …

  I point. ‘There.’

  ‘One step ahead of you, Nicole.’ Steve cuts out the lights and we are now relying on the moon to guide us. Ian is just ahead, sauntering along the side of the road, the duffel swinging. I lean over and reach inside the backpack, pulling out the gun. I feel the SUV lurch.

  ‘What’s that, Nicole?’

  ‘What do you think?’ I try not to sound belligerent, but I am not successful. I just want it all to be over.

  ‘You’re not really going to use it, are you?’ The worry in his voice makes me feel guilty. He had no idea that I was a criminal, and now that I have a gun, I am even worse than he thought. I don’t want to keep disappointing him.

  ‘I just want to scare him. I need that duffel.’

  ‘What’s in it?’

  I can feel his eyes on me, and I turn to stare him down. ‘Money. Money that I’ve earned, not stolen.’

  ‘Why don’t you just let it go?’

  Why not? I have ways to get more, but I don’t want to do it that way anymore. I want the money that I earned by working, giving my tours, money that I made when I was happy. And I need all of it, so I can get the documents I need in Chinatown on Friday. I can’t tell him this though, so I just say, ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Nicole, you could stop this right now. You could go to Frank Cooper and tell him everything. Isn’t there some sort of statute of limitations on what you did? Do you have enough money to start paying back what you stole?’

  ‘It’s not that easy, Steve. And anyway, Frank isn’t the only one here. The FBI is here, too, looking for me, and no one is going to help me. I only have one alternative. I get that duffel and I leave.’

  ‘If what you say is true, how do you think you’re going to get on the ferry tomorrow morning?’

  ‘I’m not.’

  Steve stops the Explorer and shifts around in his seat so he can look at me.

  ‘Come on, Steve, let’s catch up to Ian and get that bag.’

  ‘Not until you tell me what you’re going to do.’

  ‘It’s better if you don’t know.’

  ‘No, it’s not.’ He watches me for a few seconds and then a broad smile takes over his face. ‘You don’t know, do you? You don’t know how you’re getting off the island.’

  I shrug.

  ‘I know you better than you know yourself, Nicole.’

  That’s what he thinks.

  ‘One step at a time, Steve, OK?’ I indicate Ian, who is become merely a tiny shadow ahead of us.

  ‘Sure, Nicole.’ The Explorer starts moving again, faster and faster until we pull up right next to Ian.

  He stops short, sees me and frowns. He reaches around and realizes now that his gun is missing. I wave it in front of the window before I open the door and jump out. ‘Looking for this?’

  He lunges for me, but Steve is faster than either of us expects. He grabs Ian from behind, locking his arms behind his back. In his surprise, Ian has dropped the duffel.

  ‘Nicole!’ Steve indicates the bag and I sweep it up and toss it into the SUV.

  ‘You think you’re going to get away?’ Ian asks me. ‘They’re coming for you.’

  I feel a twinge of fear at the back of my neck, but I ignore it. ‘Come on, Steve,’ I say, the gun pointed at Ian.

  Steve releases Ian, but in one swift move Ian swings his leg around and catches Steve behind the knees. Steve drops to the ground with a grunt. Ian hovers over him, his fist raised.

  ‘Don’t!’ I warn.

  Ian looks up at me. ‘Or you’ll shoot me?’

  I have shot a gun before, but it is not second nature to me, so when I pull the trigger I feel the report shoot through my arm and I jerk back involuntarily.

  ‘Good try,’ Ian says, ‘but no cigar.’

  My whole body is shaking now. I am barely able to keep my grip on the gun. Ian makes a move toward me, but Steve is on his feet now and he lunges toward him, his shoulders making contact with the backs of Ian’s legs, causing him to lurch forward and then down on the ground, face first.

  ‘Come on,’ Steve says roughly, and I don’t wait. We are both in the SUV; Steve is starting it and the headlights illuminate Ian blinking at us as he struggles to get up. We pass him and the SUV careens down the road.

  I am not really aware of where we are going. It feels like Steve has turned around a couple of times, and suddenly I can see the buildings in front of us. A light flashes on, a motion detector, as we move along a gravel driveway. I can see them bobbing in the distance – the boats. Motor boats and sailboats. No fishing boats here. We are at one of the marinas on the west side of the island.

  A figure appears in front of us; Steve slams on the brakes so we don’t hit him. He is wearing a plaid flannel shirt and a pair of jeans, a baseball cap.

  Chip Parsons. The guy Steve says has a crush on me. The one from the Yellow Kittens.

  ‘I knew you wanted to fix me up with him, Steve, but this might not be the time.’ I am so nervous, the teasing just comes out without thinking.

  Steve’s hand closes over mine. ‘I called him while I was waiting for you. I figured you’d need some help.’

  I appreciate what he’s done, but this is one more person who knows where I am and where I might be going. I begin to argue, but Steve says roughly, ‘Now, go.’ He puts his hand back on the steering wheel.

  Something about him, the way his jaw is set, the way he’s holding his head is not right.

  I see it then, in the light from the building.

  The blood on his shoulder.

  THIRTY-SIX

  My God, I shot Steve. I missed Ian, but I shot my best friend. ‘Steve!’ I exclaim. ‘What did I do?’

  He gives me a wan smile, but I can see the pain etched around his eyes. ‘Get out of the car, Nicole. Chip can take you to the mainland. He can be trusted.’

  ‘But you’re hurt!’

  ‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.’ He looks anything but fine. ‘Just go. Please. You have to leave.’

  ‘What’s up?’ Chip has come over to the driver’s side window, which Steve rolls down. He looks over at me. ‘You ready, Nicole?’

  ‘I can’t go now,’ I say.

  ‘No, we’re not going now,’ Chip says, misunderstanding. ‘But we can leave at first light. I’ve got a place set up for you to stay until then. You can get a little sleep.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Chip, can you give us a couple minutes?’ Steve asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer, but as he rolls the window back up, Chip politely pretends to be interested in something on the horizon. Steve looks back at me. ‘Nicole, the bullet just grazed me. It’s just a flesh wound. Really.’ And to prove it, he shrugs off his shirt so I can see that he is right. There is blood, but it looks more like he’s gotten a really bad deep scratch. He winces as he pulls the sleeve back over it. ‘Now you can go.’

  ‘Let me clean it up for you at least,’ I say. I climb out of the SUV a
nd call over to Chip. ‘Is there a washroom in there?’ I ask, pointing to the building.

  Chip nods, and I go over to the driver’s side. Steve gets out, but not as reluctantly as I anticipated. He must be in a lot of pain. Chip sees it now, the blood on Steve’s shoulder. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Just a little bar fight.’ Steve chuckles, but it is not his usual jovial laugh.

  ‘I need to clean it up for him,’ I explain.

  Chip leads us to the building, and he opens the door to the washroom for us, again discreetly leaving us alone. I close the toilet seat and Steve sits. There are paper towels and I turn the water on, waiting for it to get hot before soaking the towels and pumping some soap into them. Steve has taken off his shirt, and I begin to wipe away the blood and see that the wound is smaller than it looked in the car.

  ‘I wish I had some peroxide,’ I say. ‘When you get home, you have to put peroxide on it.’ I pause. ‘Are you OK to drive? Do you want me to go with you?’

  Steve puts his hand over mine. ‘Nicole, you have to leave. You have everything you need?’

  I cannot think about that now, though. ‘I shot you,’ I whisper. ‘I am so, so sorry.’ The tears come then, falling down my cheeks, and with his other arm, Steve pulls me close so my head rests on his chest and I can hear his heart beating.

  ‘You’ve got one more chance,’ he says.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘Run away with me.’

  I want to. I can’t stand the thought of leaving him here. Especially like this. But I can’t. My silence gives him the answer. I pull away and give him a sad smile.

  ‘You have to promise to call me. Tell me that you’re all right,’ he says.

  I shake my head. ‘It’s bad enough that you’re helping me leave. They’ll question you for hours. Days, maybe.’

  ‘I have nothing else to do with my time. No one to meet at Club Soda.’

  ‘Don’t rub it in.’

  He is still waiting for me to change my mind. About him going with me, not about me calling. Instead, I help him back on with his shirt. He winces as he moves his shoulder, but tries to cover it up with a grin that turns into more of a grimace. I touch his beard and give him a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘I wish I could stay,’ I whisper. ‘I wish it could all go back the way it used to be.’ Scrabble games and burgers and onion rings and walks at the Bluffs. Gossip and clam chowder. My life. The life I have built. The life that has slipped away every minute since Ian showed up.