by LS Sygnet
We rode in utter silence for no less than ten minutes. The lights from gaudy and questionable businesses on Mercer Boulevard illuminated the inside of the SUV. The aftershocks in my heart were still firing regularly. I shuddered and shook more tears free.
“Talk to me, Helen. Did I do something that made Orion hate me even more?”
Head shook. More tears.
“Then what happened?”
I sucked in a deep breath. “It was me. I said something and he took it the wrong way, and now he won’t listen to me explain what I really meant.”
Devlin pulled over against the curb. Scantily clad women strolled past the car peering at the emotional show. Peep show for the hookers. Not very erotic, but had the magnetism of a really bad car accident.
His hand perched on my shoulder and massaged gently. “What did you say, Helen? How could you ever say anything that would make him that angry? And why is it my fault?”
Air shuddered from my lungs. “Because I told him that I love you.”
Devlin’s hand stilled. “I see.” It fell away.
“And now you hate me too.”
“No, but I’m a little bit confused. Why would he marry you –”
“I said it last night.”
“Still confused. If you love me, why would you marry…” the thought died in his throat for a moment. “You meant that you love me as a friend, and he thought what I stupidly did just a moment ago.”
I nodded.
“Helen, why didn’t you just qualify the remark? Then. Now.”
One shoulder lifted.
“Are you sure it’s only friendship you feel?”
“Dev please don’t –”
“I’m sorry. Really. God, I don’t know when to leave well enough alone, do I?”
“It’s not entirely your fault. I haven’t exactly kept the line from becoming blurred. It was horribly unfair to you.”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “It really was, Helen.”
“I’m so sorry. And I do love you as my friend. But Johnny…” Tears clogged the path of freedom for my words.
“He’s your hero, the one that made you believe in love again, isn’t he?”
I nodded. “So much.”
“Then you need to fix this.”
“He won’t listen to me.”
“Tell you what. We’re at Fantasia’s over-the-sex-shop apartment. You’re still in no condition to talk to a potential victim. I’ll go see her alone.”
I opened my mouth to protest.
“Ah-ah, unless the goal is to scare the girl to death. You’ve got a mascara river flowing, my friend.”
My heart swelled with friendly love for what Devlin just offered. Forgiveness. Understanding. A concrete boundary that could never again become fuzzy. I nodded.
“And while I’m inside talking to this girl, you’re going to dry your tears, blow your nose, and dig that cell phone out of your purse and call Johnny. You’re going to tell him exactly what you just told me. If that doesn’t make a dent in his thick skull, I’ll offer to eat my hand if it makes him amenable to listening to reason.”
“Devlin –”
“It’s all right, Helen. I get it. And this is gonna be all right. But please don’t take this the wrong way. You’re head hasn’t been in the game all week and you know it. You’re bouncing all over the place. I didn’t know why before. Now I do. Get your love life squared and then for God’s sake, help us close this case. We need your brain. Deal?”
I nodded. “Thank you. For… for everything. I wish Johnny could see how things really are with you. He’d understand it then.”
Devlin patted my shoulder and pointed at the box of tissues in my lap. “Fix yourself. Call him. Wait right here. Got it?”
I watched him fling open the door and disappear into the stairwell of the building. Fantasia. I crossed my fingers and hoped that she’d be the one, the link that we needed to prove that there was more to this mess than Florence Payette.
The mirror on the back of the sun visor in the Expedition revealed a mess worse than Devlin described. My cheeks were dissected with black streaks where rivulets of tears carried Revlon from eyelashes down to my chin. I started dabbing away the damage and wondered what I could possibly to say to Johnny to get his attention this time.
My fault. My fault.
I could’ve put an end to this ridiculous argument last night if I had followed him and insisted that we talk right away. I could’ve done it this morning at the courthouse. His hesitation was because he didn’t know if I wanted to see him. And what had I done? Rubbed this stupid interview in his face.
The temptation to beat my head against the dashboard grew. What could I say now? How could I undo a succession of stupid mistakes?
Worse thoughts filled my head. Devlin was right. I was still off the game, out of my typical mental place that let me cut through the bullshit around me and see the truth. I had to fix this thing with Johnny. I owed it to Celeste Datello, her daughter, poor abused Analynn Villanueva, even Florence Payette with her lifetime of abuse in the clutches of slavery.
I had to be me again. And I needed Johnny for that to happen. Fingers dug through my purse until the cool device slipped through them. I grabbed the phone and pulled it out.
A light knock at the window interrupted before I could call Johnny and start righting one of my many mistakes. My eyes pivoted right, expecting the face of a stranger. They widened with recognition.
His hand made a cranking motion. I reached over and engaged the ignition switch. Rolled the window down.
“What on earth are you doing here?”
He grinned at me. “Looking for Devlin. Where is he?”
“Upstairs interviewing a potential witness in a case we’re working on.”
Nod. “Yeah, he mentioned it. The human trafficking thing, right?”
A chill tickled its way down my spine. Had Devlin discussed this sensitive issue outside our circle? “I’m afraid I can’t discuss it with you –”
“No need,” he grinned.
Before I had time to react, Andy Gillette pressed a stun gun into my chest. A jolt, muscle shredding pain and darkness followed.
Chapter 37
The phone vibrated in his left breast pocket. He smiled. Yes, it was incongruent with the words coming out of his mouth, but that was the way life was from time to time. He nodded at the men at a table near the front of the room. Nothing overt, just enough to let them know that all was as expected.
The Eriksson bitch was out of the way, once and for all. And that sap of a man she married? Well, he’d be so devastated by the loss of his bride of just over a day that he’d never see the sledgehammer that was about to hit from behind.
Oh, her loss would sting harder than the real goal. Stupid man. Yet even Orion was of no consequence. His days were numbered. Very soon, everything in Darkwater Bay would be as it should’ve remained.
But without Jerry Lowe.
He concluded his comments and conveyed his regrets that he would not be taking any questions and nodded to the men in suits waiting in the wings. The other two men interested in the text he received met him before he slipped away.
“Well?”
He nodded.
“What did Gillette say?”
He pulled the phone out of his pocket and read the text.
“On schedule for departure. All according to plan.”
“Excellent,” the younger of his two companions said.
The older man shook his head. “I’m not so certain about this. The marriage is a wrench in the plan whether the two of you acknowledge it or not. Orion is dangerous.”
One hand smoothed down the front of an expensive gray suit. “You don’t know him the way I do. Johnny won’t find her. Ever. She should’ve never come here in the first place, and I’d still like to know what possessed Hardy and Weber to bring her here. I thought for sure that our men would dissuade her when we sent them to Washington last spring. Imagine my disappointment w
hen they failed.”
“Imagine my disappointment when you failed,” the old man rasped. “You assured us that even if Lowe was incarcerated that your control over the commissioner and chief of police was so profound that it wouldn’t matter. Then Weber resigned. It’s only a matter of time before they find his replacement, and if he’s anything like that woman they hired to replace Lowe, it definitely changes everything. We cannot afford any more law enforcement upgrades in this city, as you well know.”
“The Villanueva girl’s death was hardly anyone’s fault. You know that as well as I do. Who would’ve thought she’d try to swim for shore after the transfer was made?”
“It would’ve been better for all of us if they’d kept her on board and dumped her at sea,” the old man muttered.
“I agree with my father. What was Gutierrez thinking?”
“I’m telling you, that was Preston’s call, not Umberto’s. We can’t change it now anyway.”
One man glanced at the security detail. “I should dismiss them for the evening. I need to talk to Andy before he’s gone.”
The elder nodded to his son. “We’ll take care of things here. Will you come to the penthouse immediately after you speak to him?”
He nodded. “I’m tempted to get a look at her before they go.”
The youngest of the trio snorted softly. “Don’t waste your time. Besides, it’s not worth the risk of exposure. I’m displeased that Gillette had to expose himself. From what I’ve heard, she’s a lethal opponent that should not be underestimated. Do keep that in mind, and it would be wise to remind Gillette as well.”
“And the buyer?” he asked. “Should I tell Gillette to warn him too?”
The old man smiled. “What happens to the merchandise after the sale has never been our concern, son. You know that as well as I do. It’s not like these people are… well, people, after all. They’re just women, not even Christian women.”
“Especially not Helen Eriksson. Oh would that we could round up all the atheists and dispose of them the same way, yes?”
The old man stiffened. “Not the queers too?”
His companion scowled. “No, they should simply be shot. That Underwood fellow had the right idea, if you ask me.”
“Yet he still murdered Pastor Napier. He was a good man.”
“Dad,” he glanced at his watch. “It’s eight thirty. I really need to get out of here, and I’m anticipating an argument over this solo journey. We’ll finish this discussion at the penthouse later.”
“Be careful.”
He nodded. “Always.”
Gray suit watched him go. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with his role in all of this. It’s been the two of us for a very long time now.”
“Almost thirty nine years,” old man said. “For the time being, he’s in exactly the position we need him in. If that changes…” a shrug punctuated his vague statement.
“Your son?”
Old man grinned. “Not by blood. But then, we don’t view family the way others do in the end, do we?”
“At least I do good work with the money we’ve made.”
“Yes, but that won’t absolve you if OSI isn’t stopped and they learn more than they already know.”
“You’re worried about Melissa.”
“Of course I am. Her mother meant the world to me.” He clenched his withered fists. “Preston’s dying statement should’ve resulted in her immediate release.”
“Unless he died before he could make it.”
“Well, I suspect that even if you were on better terms with those who might know the answer to that question, they still wouldn’t share it. Perhaps we’ll have to have someone else confirm that Mr. Datello arranged for a legal adoption of his child before he died.”
“Have you got someone in mind?”
“Perhaps,” the old man said cryptically. “We’ll discuss it later. At the penthouse. I’m assuming you’ll remain on Hennessey Island for the meeting?”
Gray suit looked at his Piaget watch. “I should at least let my wife know that I’ll be late. Don’t want her making any frantic calls to report me missing,” he chuckled.
“You’ve trained her well, old friend.”
“What choice did I have?”
“Wives can be disposed of, or have you forgotten about mine?”
“You didn’t have children with your wives,” gray suit said. “It makes a difference.”
“You’re right. I was simply wise enough not to marry the mother of my child.”
Gray suit rested his hand on the old man’s shoulder. “We’ll figure out a way to get Melissa out of this mess. You have my word. As soon as OSI closes, that will become much easier. They’ll be completely discredited.”
“Yes,” the old man said softly. “And we’ll be well on the way to resuming business as usual.”
“It can’t happen soon enough for me.”
“Running low on funds again, are we?”
“Maintaining the façade of the family fortune isn’t easy,” gray suit admitted. “Perhaps it’s time for me to scale back on some of the charitable donations. This economy seems to be getting worse.”
The old man chuckled. “Now that sounds plausible. Just in case this takes longer than we planned. You may thank me now.”
“For?”
“Insisting that we kept Helen in our sights in spite of her alleged retirement. If we hadn’t been always watching, who knows how much she might’ve accomplished?”
Chapter 38
Musty iron filled my nostrils when awareness crept its way back into my head. Odor was first, followed quickly by doubts over whether this was a nightmare or if consciousness had truly returned. Fragments of memory drifted close and were swept quickly away.
I had been crying. Johnny and I fought. Devlin made me feel hopeful again. I was getting ready to make a phone call. What had happened?
Dull pain forced me to accept reality. My left shoulder ached. The old gunshot injury wasn’t ever going to completely heal, not to the point of living without chronic discomfort. Maybe I laid on it wrong.
I tried to move my arm. Something clanged – metal against metal. My fingers scrabbled for purchase. What they encountered was hard. Cold. Unyielding.
More awareness invaded. My arms were stretched out away from my body. Oh God. Had someone me put me on a cross? I thought of my deranged killer from two months ago, Fulk Underwood. He used religious symbolism in his murders. Was he really dead?
Yes.
No.
It wasn’t Underwood. This wasn’t a crucifixion. Metal cuffs circled my wrists, heavy and secure. I was shackled.
But what about my feet?
Forget the feet, Helen. Why can’t you see?
I blinked rapidly. Nope, can’t see. Either I’d gone blind or I was shackled in a very dark room. One with a lot of metal in it. The chains suspending my arms clanged with every move I made. Iron on iron.
I moved one leg cautiously. Nope. No restraint. It was progress I supposed, if I could see where I was.
The ache in my arms and shoulders intensified. It shouldn’t hurt this much. Restraints in general –
“Shit.”
Reality slammed through me full force. I stretched my toes, a quick hunt for the floor. It could’ve been the proverbial bottomless pit underneath me. How would I know? I could see absolutely nothing. The lack of a solid surface told me enough. Offered the explanation for why my arms and shoulders felt slowly eased out of the sockets.
“I’m hanging on a wall. My God.”
Light spiked the room, a pill-shaped burst of the world beyond blinded me for a moment. Two bodies dimmed it, lowered the glare enough for me to get a better lay of the land.
Ha. Land. Not quite. I was in what appeared to be the cargo bay of a ship. Steel rivets bubbled out of the walls in regular intervals where they held the panels together. A caterpillar of recent conversation inched through my brain.
The Celeste came in from sea
last Tuesday. She’s going out again this week.
I groaned. “Christ.”
The rest came back on a flood of panic and despair. Mercer Boulevard. The aborted phone call to Johnny. The snippet of our last angry conversation when Johnny snarled at Dev and told him his old friend from Montgomery had been looking for him at OSI. Said old friend, Andy Gillette rapping on the window of the Expedition.
He stood before me now, smug and sneering. A cigarette hung, barely pinched between his thin lips.
“Turn the light on, Umberto. Our latest acquisition is awake.”
“You son of a bitch,” I hissed. “Do you have any idea what will happen to you when Johnny catches you?”
He laughed maniacally. “From what I saw today, your new husband isn’t in any hurry to spend quality time with you, Helen. Dare I suggest you may not even be missed?”
My red-black murderous tunnel vision returned.
“Oooh,” he mocked fear. “If looks could kill, doctor. Good thing we had the foresight to keep you restrained, eh?”
“You should be afraid.”
“Hmm, yes, I’ve heard all about your moral flexibility. Suicide, huh? Pretty good trick. Never let it be said that it’s a bad thing, having friends in high places. How many men have you killed, Dr. Eriksson?”
“Who cares? Just know that you’re the last.”
“You’re in no position to make threats,” the man with him sneered.
“Well, until now, I was feeling pretty much neutral where you’re concerned. Let me guess. Captain Umberto Gutierrez.”
He gave an exaggerated bow with a shit-eating grin.
“Don’t feel too honored by the notoriety, Umberto,” I warned. “You’re the second to the last person I’m going to kill.”
“Helen, Helen, Helen,” Gillette shook his head. “We’ve got our work cut out for us before we get to the buyer, wouldn’t you agree, Umberto?”
Shards of ice pumped through my veins. “Buyer? You bastard. You can’t do this to me! I’m an American citizen, a free woman!”
“Blah, blah, blah,” he shook his head and laughed. “Freedom is an illusion, a drug to numb the masses, Helen. Surely you know this. You’re an expert in human psychology. How can you reject some of the mind-numbing nonsense used on the sheep and fail to recognize such a basic truth? Someone owns everyone.” He stepped close. Anger glittered in his glacial gray eyes. “Especially you.”
