Expose

by Saranne Dawson

  “We’re taking Charles back to the hospital in Baltimore,” Kate announced.

  “What hospital?” the woman asked, still frowning. “He came here from New Leaf.”

  “No, he didn’t. Charles was in a psychiatric hospital in Baltimore. He was sent there after he attacked some students and teachers in school.”

  The woman’s gaze went briefly to Charles, then back to them. “Who are you?”

  Kate told her, and watched as the color drained from the woman’s face. She thought the woman’s expression demonstrated that Kate had just confirmed her own worst fears, and her words confirmed that impression.

  “I knew there was something going on. Kenny wouldn’t tell me, but I just knew it.”

  “Your husband, you mean?” Kate asked.

  She nodded. “It seemed just too good to be true—right from the start, when New Leaf bought that farm for us. We lost our farm, you see, and they said they’d buy another one for us if we took care of some boys who needed to be away from the other kids.

  “Then, when they made us leave the farm and come here, I knew something must be really wrong. But I couldn’t leave the boys. They need help all the time.”

  Recalling how kindly the woman had treated the boys, Kate began to feel some sympathy for her. “Look, this whole thing is going to blow up soon. The best thing you can do is to cooperate, and maybe you can keep the farm after all. But right now, we need to take Charles with us and return him to Baltimore. Where’s your husband now?”

  “He went back to the farm to water the garden.”

  “What about the other man—the one with the black pickup?”

  “You mean Joe?” The woman made a face. “He was here earlier. He went into town to get me some groceries.”

  “Look,” Sam said, “we’ve got to get out of here. If he comes back and finds out that Charles is missing, just tell him the truth, and then call us on our car phone.” He took out a notepad and wrote down the number.

  “Will Charles come with us?” Kate asked her.

  The woman cast him a pitying glance. “He’s so doped up he’d walk off a cliff if you asked him to, the poor kid. I’ll get his medicine for you.”

  She disappeared inside as Kate waited anxiously, hoping that she wouldn’t see the black pickup coming up the driveway. Sam went over to Charles and tried to talk to him, but the boy simply stared at him blankly, nodding from time to time.

  The woman returned with a bottle of pills and gave them instructions. Kate handed her a card. “I’ll be in touch with you. Just do what Sam said. Cooperate with the police when they get here. It might take some time. This is pretty complicated.”

  The woman nodded. “It’s Joe who worries me. He’s awful mean.”

  And he might well be worse than mean, Kate thought but didn’t say. “Can you reach your husband at the farm?”

  The woman looked at her watch. “He should be back any minute.”

  Sam led Charles to the car and Kate thought she saw a flicker of interest in his eyes as he stared at it. She climbed into the small back seat so he could sit up front with Sam.

  “Nice car,” Charles said in that same otherworldly tone as Sam buckled his seat belt for him.

  They roared off down the driveway and out onto the highway, with Kate watching the rearview mirror for the pickup. She just couldn’t believe they were going to get away with this. It was too easy.

  Within minutes, Charles appeared to have fallen asleep, perhaps lulled by the motion of the car. Kate and Sam remained silent in order not to disturb him. Kate tried not to think about the other boys. It would have been impossible to take them in any event, because the Porsche wouldn’t have held them. And besides that, they weren’t kidnap victims like Charles. Still, she hated leaving them behind.

  A half hour later, as they were nearing the Pennsylvania-Maryland border, the car phone rang. Sam grabbed it quickly and after a minute thanked the caller and hung up.

  “It looks like Joe is after us,” he muttered to Kate in a low voice. “She said he used the phone before he left and she thinks he was calling New Leaf for some help.” He was silent for a moment, then dug out the road map and handed it to her over the seat. “See if you can find a back road to get us to the cabin. If we stay on this one, they’ll find us. They already know where we’re headed.”

  Kate studied the map. “Okay, I’ve got it. We can stay with back roads all the way.”

  Just over an hour later, they were on the road that led to the cabin. Charles was still sound asleep, and there’d been no sign of anyone following them.

  “Let’s just leave him in the car for the time being,” Sam said as they both got out.

  Kate nodded. “I’m going to call the hospital and have them contact the police. That might get things moving faster.”

  After being switched to various offices at the hospital, Kate finally reached the psychiatrist who’d been in charge of Charles’s case. She explained who she was, then told him that they’d just taken Charles from a home where he’d been held by the people who had kidnapped him.

  “They’re after us,” she went on. “Can you call the police and get us some help?”

  Instead of agreeing, the psychiatrist started to ask questions. Kate sympathized with his desire for information, but still cut him off.

  “Look, these people would rather kill Charles than let you get him back. I can’t explain it all now. Please just do what I say.”

  Maybe it was something in her voice, or maybe the psychiatrist decided that she was clearly insane herself, but he finally agreed to contact the Baltimore police and have them get in touch with the police out at her end. Kate gave him the address of the cabin and urged him to hurry.

  “Charles is still sleeping,” Sam said, turning away from the window where he’d been watching the boy. “But I think we’d better try to get him in here.”

  “Is there any way we can hide your car?” Kate asked nervously.

  “Why? They can’t find us here.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” she answered reluctantly. “I think I might have mentioned it to Ted Snyder when I first met him. I seem to recall having said something.”

  “Okay, let’s get Charles inside and then I’ll drive it around back.”

  It took both of them to get the groggy boy out of the car and into the cabin and then into a bedroom, where he collapsed onto the bed, mumbling to himself. Kate stood there for a moment, staring at him in helpless anger and wondering if what had been done to him could ever be undone. And he was just one of many.

  She left him there and joined Sam on the screened porch just as thunder began rumbling in the distance. She’d noticed that it had been getting darker, but now it appeared that a storm was on its way.

  “It could be hours before the police get here,” she told him. “I just hope that Ted Snyder forgot about my mentioning this place. Still, they’d have to check every cabin on this road.”

  “And they won’t even start to look here until they’re sure that we’re not on our way to Baltimore,” Sam added.

  “I should call Damon and let him know what’s happened,” Kate said, picking up the cordless phone.

  By the time she’d made the call and answered all of Damon’s questions, the storm had descended upon them, forcing them both back inside. Sam commented that he should probably get the gun locked in the glove compartment, but Kate said that surely they couldn’t find them that fast and he should wait until the storm had passed.

  They settled down in the living room as the storm began to vent its fury on the cabin. They talked for a time about what was likely to happen next, and about whether or not Newbury and Armistead were likely to be implicated in any of it.

  “It’ll all depend on who talks,” Sam concluded. “And that depends on how the police handle it.”

  “I want to find out what happened to Tony,” Kate said sadly. “I’m sure he must be dead.”

  “They could just be holding him somewh
ere,” Sam suggested, though without much conviction.

  “Why would they do that? They’ve killed him. I’m sure of it.”

  “I’ve been thinking about the Newbury-Armistead part of this,” Sam said. “Maybe there really are two separate stories here. The attempt to persuade him to come out for legalization could be a whole separate issue. Anyway, I don’t see a connection.”

  That had been bothering Kate, too, but she hadn’t had time to think seriously about it, and she didn’t feel like doing so now. There would be plenty of time later. She leaned over and gave Sam a kiss. “So when are we going to get remarried?” He stared at her in surprise. “Is that a yes I hear?” “I guess so. But I’m scared, Sam. We blew it once.” “That’s why we won’t do it again,” he replied, pulling her over so that she was half on his lap.

  And that’s where they were when the front door suddenly flew open and two wet but very determined men burst in carrying guns.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Icy fear coursed through Kate’s veins, combined with an almost equally frightening sense of vulnerability. She started to move off Sam’s lap, but he merely tightened his grip. Belatedly, she realized that he was trying to prevent her from making the kind of sudden move that would bring on a burst of gunfire.

  The storm had made it dark in the cabin, and for that reason, Kate didn’t at first recognize one of the gunmen as being Ted Snyder. Having previously seen him only in his elegant pin-striped suits, she felt a sense of unreality at seeing him now, clad in jeans and a dark windbreaker.

  “Where’s the kid?” Snyder demanded, looking around the cabin.

  “He’s in the bedroom, asleep,” Kate responded, since they could easily determine that for themselves. Cautiously, she moved off Sam’s lap and stood to face Ted Snyder. “It’s over, Ted. I’ve called the hospital in Baltimore and they’re sending the police here to get Charles. And our editor knows we’re here with him, along with everything else.”

  The gun he held didn’t waver, but Kate saw the uncertainty in his eyes and found herself wondering how he’d gotten himself into this. She didn’t like him, but the role he was attempting to play now wasn’t really him. Unfortunately, she wasn’t so sure about the man with him. She’d expected it to be the man with the black pickup, but it wasn’t. This man had the hard, cold look of a professional killer.

  “We can salvage this,” the other man said to Snyder. “Everyone knows the kid is violent. We can make it look like he killed them.”

  Kate was appalled at his matter-of-factness. She turned to Ted. “No one will believe that. You’ll only make things worse for yourself, Ted.”

  Ted seemed frozen with indecision, his gaze flicking from Kate to the man beside him. The other man stepped toward her, shifting his weapon to his left hand, then raising his right hand to strike her. She’d been aware of Sam’s having gotten up from the sofa, but she was totally unprepared for what happened next.

  Kate backed up to avoid the imminent blow only to be roughly shoved aside from behind by Sam. She stumbled into a chair and fell just as the sound of gunfire reverberated through the room. She picked herself up and turned around to see Sam and the man on the floor, wrestling for control of the gun. The image was burned forever into her brain. Sam, who hated guns and had only begrudgingly acquired one to protect her, was now fighting with this killer.

  Sam briefly got the upper hand in what seemed to be an even match, and forced the man to drop the gun. Kate grabbed it, then tore her eyes away from their struggle to see Ted Snyder aiming at her, his eyes wide with horror.

  “Give me that gun, Ted, or so help me, I’ll kill you.” Her words echoed through her head with an authority that she certainly didn’t feel.

  Whether or not he would have fired, Kate would never know, because at that moment, the other two men rolled against him and knocked him off his feet. Circling around them, Kate grabbed the gun that Snyder had dropped. Now there were three men flailing on the floor, amidst broken lamps and overturned tables and chairs. And as she circled around the melee, trying to decide how she could help Sam, Charles Scofield suddenly appeared in the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

  The boy stood there dazedly, his mouth agape as he stared at the men, and then at her. She could well imagine how she must look to him, wielding a gun in each hand. Wanting to reassure him and steer him away from the shocking sight before it could trigger some sort of violent reaction on his part, Kate edged carefully around the men.

  Ted Snyder had managed to extricate himself from the battle, and he staggered to his feet just as Kate tried to edge past him. He grabbed for her and she lost her balance as she tripped over a table. And then she was wrestling with him as he tried to get one of the guns away from her.

  Sam and the other man were now also on their feet, arms locked around each other as they staggered toward the big stone fireplace. Kate was no match for Snyder, but she fought with every ounce of strength she possessed. When she realized that he would soon have the guns, she flung them both to the far side of the room toward Charles, who continued to stand in the entry to the hallway, watching. At the same time, she managed to roll away from Snyder, and then, when he lunged at her, she lifted a foot and planted it squarely in his groin.

  His scream of pain sounded even louder than the gunshot, and he collapsed onto the floor, clutching himself and groaning. Kate scrambled up and started toward Charles, who was bending slowly to pick up the guns. For one horrifying moment, Kate was certain that it would end in just the way the man had suggested: Charles would kill them both.

  Out of the corner of her eye as she made her way toward Charles, she saw Sam pick up the fireplace poker in a last desperate attempt to defend himself.

  ‘‘Give me the guns, Charles,” she said in a voice that she willed to be calm. “They’re dangerous.”

  The boy stared at her, then looked around at the others—Sam and the man still struggling, Ted Snyder rolling on the floor and crying in pain. She repeated her request, moving ever closer to him.

  “You’ll be safe, Charles. You can see your mother again.”

  Behind her, she heard a crash, followed by a thud and a cry of pain. She could only pray that it wasn’t Sam who’d cried out, because she didn’t dare turn around at this point.

  The boy stared dully at her, then down at the weapons he held. Then he suddenly curved himself into a tight ball, sliding slowly to the floor, still clutching both guns to himself.

  Kate sank to the floor beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Then she heard movement behind her and turned, expecting to look into the eyes of the killer. But it was Sam who stood there.

  Their eyes locked in silent thanks that neither one was harmed, and then Sam knelt down on the floor beside her. Together, they managed to pry the guns from the boy’s hands, and then Kate got a blanket from the bedroom to cover him as he lay curled in a fetal position, making low, unintelligible sounds.

  “He needs his medication,” Kate said. “Stay with him until I get the pills and some water.”

  Sam sat there, an arm around the boy and the other holding one of the guns aimed at Snyder, who was now trying to sit up and groaning softly. Kate got the bottle of pills from her purse, then fumbled the top open with shaking hands. Her legs felt leaden as she staggered to the kitchen for a glass of water. Sam told her to call the police and she did, explaining the situation in a voice she barely recognized as being her own.

  “They’re on their way,” she told Sam as she returned to the living room. “They’d just gotten the call from the Baltimore police.”

  Sam moved away from Charles so she could try to persuade him to take his pill. It took a while, but he finally accepted it, then tugged the blanket around him and closed his eyes.

  Kate’s eyes had grown accustomed to the semidarkness, and she had to squint as sunlight suddenly poured through the windows. The storm had passed—outside as well as inside.

  Sam was sitting on the floor, his back against
the wall, keeping an eye on their two captives. Kate sank down beside him. Every piece of furniture in the large living room was either broken or overturned and several of the large framed photos of the cabin’s construction had been knocked from the walls.

  “Are you okay?” Sam asked, turning briefly to her while he kept the gun aimed at the two men.

  She nodded, even though she was anything but okay. Even now, minutes after the confrontation, her mind was rebelling at the images of the violence that remained a palpable presence in the room.

  “What about you?” she asked in turn.

  “I don’t think anything’s broken, but a few things are probably bent,” he replied with a crooked grin. “I haven’t been in a fight since I got into a fraternity-party brawl in college.”

  Kate looked at the inert body of his opponent. “Is he dead?” She was shocked to realize that she didn’t much care.

  Sam shook his head. “He just hit his head on the mantel. If he hadn’t, I might be dead.”

  Kate wrapped her arms around him, resting her chin on his shoulder. Sam pressed his mouth to her hair and she could feel him smile.

  “Isn’t this about where we were when it all started?”

  She laughed—perhaps more than the remark deserved. But even she could tell that her laughter had an edge to it, as though it was on the verge of hysteria. Sam must have guessed that as well, because he tightened his grip on her and kissed her again.

  Then their attention was drawn to Ted Snyder, who had stopped his groaning and struggled into a sitting position, his back against the overturned sofa.

  “Do you want to talk about it, Snyder?” Sam challenged. “The police are on their way, so you have nothing to lose. We’ve got it all pretty well figured out, except for a few minor details—like what you did with Tony DiSalvo’s body and exactly what the drug you were feeding the kids was doing to them. And, oh, yeah, is Congressman Newbury involved in this?”

  Throughout Sam’s speech, Snyder had just glared at them, but when Sam mentioned the congressman’s name, something flickered in his eyes. It vanished quickly, but it looked to Kate as though he’d been surprised to hear the name.