by Dana Mentink
“I’m sorry,” Laney said. “That was unkind.” But it doesn’t give you an excuse to kill people. “But you’re right. You’re a good doctor.”
She shrugged. “Yes, I am. I do pro bono work and go the extra mile to make house calls, don’t I?”
“Yes, you do.”
“That mistake never should have happened.”
The road became bumpy and Laney struggled to keep from bashing against the car door. “What mistake?”
“I was just tired, is all. Trying to squeeze in as many patients as I could in my office in Oregon. There’s so much pressure starting a practice, building a clientele, handling staff, insurance, rent, keeping up on training. I’d been short on sleep, living on coffee and fast food.” She heaved in a deep breath. “I saw a patient named Cordelia, who presented with abdominal pain. I didn’t do a thorough exam because I was already running an hour behind. I sent her home with a prescription for antacids. I didn’t do an ultrasound or blood work. Barely touched her in the physical exam.” Irene winced. “She died two days after the appointment from internal bleeding. Pauline was my nurse at the time.”
Laney shifted to keep pulling at the handle. Had she felt it give? “Oh, I see now, the Pauline connection.”
“The police came calling to question me. I knew I hadn’t completed a thorough exam, but I changed the file to say that I’d done a full workup and recommended immediate surgery, but Cordelia declined. The police were satisfied and so was the medical board.” She paused. “Pauline knew, though. She realized I’d altered the file. She quit, but not before she saved copies of the file and stole the supply of pills I’d been keeping as an insurance policy. I packed up and fled as soon as the police were done with me. Came to this nowhere to start again.”
The handle was definitely loosening. Laney kept up the pressure, even though the zip tie was cutting into her wrist. “But Pauline found you here, didn’t she?”
“Yes, the filthy blackmailer. She had taken screenshots of my initial report and the changed version. The screens were date stamped, proving I’d altered them after the fact. She kept the pills too. I suppose it was too hard for her to sell them herself without getting caught. She tracked me down here and threatened me. Brought the proof, but only one set. She had a second set and my pill stash in a safe place, she said. I didn’t have the money to pay her.”
“So you killed her?”
“I didn’t want to, but she gave me no choice. I needed my stash to fund my getaway, but I couldn’t find it, so I hoped no one else would either. I figured with Pauline dead, maybe I’d be okay here for a while.”
Incredulity warred with Laney’s disgust. The woman she’d trusted with her health and her baby’s. How could she have been so blind? “You let Beckett take the blame. No, you framed him by writing the note and putting Pauline’s sweater in his car. You sent him to jail, enabled Kenny to terrorize both of us. You never said a word.”
“I am sorry. I like Beckett and I like you. If I could have figured another way, I’d have taken it, but I couldn’t run again, not then. I have some money saved up now. And when Beckett brings me the pills, I’ll have plenty.”
Laney thought back over the last harrowing weeks. “The snake? Throwing rocks at me at the spring? I can’t believe you did those things.”
“I didn’t. I imagine that was Kenny, but it worked in my favor. Kenny really is a bad dude, you know.”
Laney felt like crying, but she gulped back her emotions as Irene continued.
“When you told me Rita was investigating Pauline’s death, possibly looking for some sort of proof she was murdered, I couldn’t believe it. I tried to scare her, with the fire. I guess I did, but she got me in the end anyway, hiding my package in your basement.”
The bolt that fastened the handle to the roof of the car began to shimmy. She pulled harder, trying to keep the effort out of her voice. “What happened with Rita? You killed her too, didn’t you?”
Irene shook her head. “There’s no more time to talk about that right now. We’re here.”
Laney stared out into the blackness. “Where?”
Irene pulled off a dirt track into a hollow surrounded by hills. “I love running, you know. Sometimes I run for most of the night while it’s cool. I find all kinds of things.”
She got out.
Laney tugged frantically, but the bolt refused to give. Tears crowded her eyes, her wrists stung, but she could not free herself.
Irene came around to Laney’s door and opened it, pulling a pair of clippers from her pocket. “I’m going to cut you loose.”
Laney’s heart beat faster.
Irene snipped the zip tie. Laney got out of the car.
“Come on,” Irene said, gesturing to the darkness.
“My ankles... I can’t walk.”
“Hop, then.”
Laney stared. How could this be the same woman who she’d believed was her friend? Confidante? “You took an oath,” she said. “To do no harm.”
Irene stopped. “Yes, I did, but in order to follow my oath, I have to continue practicing medicine, don’t I? It will be easier for me when I’ve got my pills. I can pay for a new identity and start over.”
“This is not what you vowed to do.”
Irene pulled a small gun from her pocket. “I don’t have time. I have to meet Beckett.”
Ice formed in Laney’s belly. “What are you going to do to him?”
“Nothing, if he gives me what I want. Then I’ll take off and call him to tell him where you are.”
Her tone was overly casual, a shade too bright. Laney realized it would be simpler for Irene if Laney and Beckett did not live to tell the police what they knew. Rita was dead and so was Pauline. Laney’s and Beckett’s murders might be pinned on Kenny, and Dr. Irene would cease to exist in favor of another identity. She swallowed a rising tide of terror as they came to an old ruin, a cement pier supporting a rusting eight-foot-tall pole. It was the remnants of some sort of mining machinery, common to Death Valley. Irene had made sure they were well away from the road, concealed by the rippling hills. No one would see them there. Laney was still alive just to make sure Beckett cooperated. And then...
Make a plan, she ordered herself. She figured her only way to get to Beckett was to wait until Irene left and take off on foot, but how could she get anywhere with her ankles taped together? She’d need to come up with a better scheme than that.
She didn’t get the chance.
“Hands behind you, back to the pole.”
“What? Why?”
“Do it.”
“And if I don’t?”
She pointed the gun at Laney’s belly. “Please don’t make me.”
A ball of terror exploded, leaving her dizzy. Her baby...their baby. She had no choice but to comply. Hardly able to draw breath, she backed up to the pole and Irene fastened zip ties around her wrists, securing her to the pole.
“I figure Beckett might need proof that you’re okay before he hands over the stuff. If he forces my hand, I’ll bring him close enough to see you before...”
Before she killed him, then her.
“Don’t hurt Beckett,” she screamed as Irene walked away. “Haven’t you done enough to him already?”
Irene stopped for a moment. Then she continued to walk away without looking back.
NINETEEN
Jude pulled on a rubber glove, reading from the note Rita had fastened to the papers.
Beckett,
I am sorry. I decided I don’t want to be involved anymore. I will call you to tell you where I hid this packet, but if something goes wrong, I hope you’ll find it.
The short story is, I ran into Pauline by chance at the drugstore in our hometown. She was photocopying papers, worried, stressed. They spilled all over the floor and she scooped them up and ran. I got only a peek while
I helped her gather them, enough to see a doctor’s name and make out that it was screenshots of a chart, two copies of each. I didn’t think much of it, but when Pauline was murdered, I paid closer attention. I wondered if she’d copied two sets of that screenshot before she confronted whoever killed her; blackmail, I guessed, with a dose of caution.
No papers or photos were found in her possession or her home, according to the police, so that made me think she’d stashed them someplace. What better location than a tiny hotel in the middle of a great big desert? I already told you I had dreams of becoming the hotshot reporter, breaking the Pauline Sanderson story wide open. Well, I found the papers, all right, behind the wardrobe in Pauline’s room, plus a bonus supply of prescription drugs I assume to be destined for the black market. I knew Doc Irene was the killer. Who would have thought that?
I was on my way to show you the bundle when I overheard you two telling Irene that you thought I was looking for the proof. I lost my nerve right then. I am sure Irene caused the fire in my hotel room. That was enough for me. Between Kenny and Irene, I am hanging up my investigative hat. Hopefully, I will be calling you with this info. If not, then I hope you will find it someday on your own. You don’t deserve what happened to you. Neither did Pauline.
Rita
Jude shook his head. “Rita didn’t make it out of town fast enough. Irene must have driven her off the road after she left the auto shop.”
“That would explain why Irene missed her morning appointments.”
“Forced her into her trunk and restrained her somehow, but she managed to get that call out to you. Later that night, Irene drove her to the woods and killed her, left her car there and your hat.”
Jude took photos of the papers and the pills, eased them back into the envelope and slid it into a plastic bag from his back pocket. When he laid it on the seat, Beckett snatched it up.
Jude frowned and offered a manila envelope instead. He grabbed some old maps from Beckett’s truck and shoved them inside. “The heft will fool her for a few moments. Figured you wouldn’t want to hand over the real proof, right? The pictures are only a backup. We’ll want the originals and the pills to make the case against her.”
“If she suspects, she might bolt without telling us where Laney is.”
Jude stared out the window at the long, flat road ahead. “Beck, you know that Irene might have killed her already.”
“No,” he grated out. “I don’t believe that. I can’t. Laney is her insurance that I will hand over the packet.”
“I need you to be prepared. We cannot hand over this proof. If we do, two murders might go unpunished.”
And possibly a third and fourth, if Irene killed Laney and the baby. He gritted his teeth.
“I’ve got the park police on standby,” Jude added. “If Irene gets away, we’ll dispatch search teams and helicopters. They’ll find Laney. It’s what they do.”
He shook his head. “I will give Irene anything she wants to protect my wife and baby.”
“You can’t do that. Unless we get that proof, you’ll never be free of suspicion.”
“I don’t care. They have to live and thrive. That’s it. That’s all.”
“They will,” he said quietly.
If it isn’t too late already, Beckett read in his tone. His phone buzzed and he snatched it.
“I’ll meet you on the Salt Pan trail,” Irene said. “Turn off your car and get out and stand in the middle of the path. You’d better be alone.”
“I want to talk to...”
“Do it.” The connection ended.
Beckett felt dizzy with fear.
“That location gives her easy access to the main road,” Jude said. “She’s probably planning to kill you both and take off, not stick around and let Laney go.”
“Her plan’s gonna change.” His body felt as though it was slowly becoming stone. He could endure anything, survive any pain or physical trauma, whatever, if Laney and the baby lived.
Jude held out a palm. “Beck, you have to give me the proof.”
Beckett shook his head. “Do what you have to, Jude. Arrest me—this time I deserve it maybe for disobeying the law, but I am asking you to give me the chance to save my family. Will you give me that, cousin?”
The only sound for a long moment was the wind blowing grit against the windshield. Jude shifted in his seat and rubbed a hand across his eyes. “There’s a turn just before the trail where I can get out without her seeing. I’ll circle around, get behind her if I can.”
Beckett sighed. “Thank you.” He pushed the truck through the restless night.
Hold on, Laney. I’ll be there soon, honey. He drove rapidly, pushing the speed limit except for the ten-second stop just before the trail where Jude leaped out and disappeared into the night. Beckett kept on, mind whirling. He would string Irene along, keep her there until Jude could get into position. She would not get away and she would not be able to hurt Laney...unless she already had.
The thought would have rendered him immobile, if he actually could make himself believe it, but his soul would not allow it. God would not take her and his baby. Even if he was not ever to really be her husband again, God would not end their story that way. He clung to that with the desperation of a man dangling over a cliff, holding the fraying ends of a rope.
His phone buzzed again.
“I can see your headlights. Turn right in fifty yards and stay on the phone,” Irene said.
He did, the truck rattling over the ground.
“Shut off the engine and stand in the path and keep your hands where I can see them.”
He killed the ignition and a set of headlights blinked on, blinding him. His eyes adjusted to make out the figure of Irene, arm outstretched and aiming a pistol.
“Give it to me,” she said.
“Where’s Laney?”
“Close by.”
“Not good enough.”
“It will have to be.”
“It’s not, Irene. I have no reason to trust you. You killed two people and abducted your patient.”
He heard her breath hiss out. “I don’t have time to explain it. Give it to me. Now.”
He saw a flicker of movement behind her. Jude?
“I want to know where my wife...” He didn’t get the sentence finished before she pulled the trigger. A bullet whizzed by his temple. Reflexively, he hunched down, pulse hammering.
“I’m an excellent shot and I can search your dead body just as well as your live one. I’m going to ask you one more time and then I will kill you. I will drive from this spot to where Laney is and kill her too. Then I will leave here with the packet or without. Your only chance to save what you love is to give me what I want. That’s it. No negotiating.”
Still no Jude. If he gave her the packet, she would likely shoot him anyway. Jude would find Laney. In what condition?
Slowly he pulled the envelope from where he’d tucked it under his shirt.
What choice did he have?
None at all.
* * *
Blood trickled down Laney’s wrists. There was no point in yanking against the zip tie that bound her to the pole. She had to figure out another way. The fleeting patches of moonlight were not enough to illuminate the cloud-swept sky. Any moment Beckett might be arriving at the rendezvous with Irene.
“All right, girlfriend,” she muttered aloud. “You’re gonna have to get out of this all by yourself.”
She looked up at the tip of the rusted pole. It stretched some three feet above her head. There was no way she could climb to the top, even if she weren’t tied in place. Willow, Beckett’s extremely athletic cousin, could probably have done it, but not under the present circumstances. She raised her hands as far as she could behind her back, and her probing fingers encountered a place where a protruding hinge had corroded, leaving a s
harp metal edge.
An impractical plan formed in her mind, but she did not allow herself to think of the yawning possibility of failure. She slid down the pole to the ground and used her taped feet to scoop as much gritty soil as she could into a pile. Standing on it, she realized the pile wasn’t high enough—she still could not reach the sharp spot, so she sank down and scraped more. Her thighs ached and her shins cramped. Panting and sweating, she crafted her hard-won debris into a taller mound. Carefully, she climbed to her feet again, stood on the pile and slid her arms up the pole.
Now her wrists were just even with the roughened metal. Immediately, she began to saw away at the zip tie. The position was excruciating on her muscles and she had to stop several times to rest. After five minutes of determined sawing, she began to despair. Maybe her plan would not work.
But five minutes had become ten, maybe fifteen since Irene had left. She was running out of time. Another round of backbreaking contortions, and she felt the glorious sensation of the zip tie giving way to the rusted metal hinge. She kept sawing.
When she thought she could not sustain the effort one more moment, one wrist came free. Now she was able to turn and apply herself to sawing away the other manacle. When she finished, she collapsed on the ground, sweating.
You have to find him, warn him. She had to get back to the main road and that would be challenge enough in the dark. With her fingernails, she found the seam of the duct tape and unwound it from her ankles. She stood painfully, pushing past the muscle cramps, wishing her eyes would adjust like Beckett always said they would. Walking only a few steps, she tumbled and went to her knees. Muttering, she got up again.
How was she going to get back to the main road without breaking a limb? She shoved her hands into the pockets of her sweater, pulled out the lighter. Stripping off her sweater, she found several long, dry sticks. Bundling them up, she used the duct tape from her ankles and secured the sweater in a tight knot around the top. “Too bad. I really liked this sweater.”
She lit the bunched sweater with her lighter and it began to burn, along with the duct tape. It wouldn’t provide light for long, but maybe it would get her back to the road.
