by Ray Backley
Moments later, she could tell from the road noise that he’d turned onto one of the gravel roads. The journey wasn’t too painful or too long, but there were too many turns for her to have any idea which direction they’d travelled in. A few minutes later they slowed, eventually stopped, and he opened the trunk. The fresh air was a relief to her airways; her mind wasn’t so sure.
“You okay?” he said after taking the cloth bag off her head.
She didn’t reply. He took her knife from his pocket and reached across to her. She tensed herself, unsure of his intentions, but all he did was cut the zip tie that bound her wrists, letting her scramble out of the trunk on her own.
“Nice blade,” he said as he put it back in his pocket.
Still, she said nothing, but scanned the scene around her.
Behind them was a winding dirt track leading to the gravel road. In front of them was a large house. No, it was more like a medium-sized hotel. A country hotel. A country hotel that had closed many years ago, most of its windows boarded up, and left for nature to do its worst. She could hear no traffic, only birdsong that lent the airwaves a perverse sweetness. She figured the two of them were the only people for miles around. She had no phone, no weapon of any kind, and was with a madman who had a gun, a knife, and a fistful of zip ties.
This was turning out to be a very bad idea.
She looked around, deciding where she could run to. The grounds of the place were a mix of scrub and long grasses, with a wooded area to one side. Would he be able to get a clear shot before she reached the cover of the woods? She was kidding herself. He would be able to get a few, reload, and get a few more.
And, as she had to keep reminding herself, she wanted to be here, because this might be where he was keeping her family imprisoned.
“Are they in there?” she said, nodding to the large building.
“Nobody’s in there,” he said. “All locked and declared unsafe years ago.” He pointed beyond the side of the building, where an equally dilapidated but far smaller building was hiding, as though trying to stay in the shadow of its big brother. “That was where my mom and dad lived, and no bullshit this time. They worked in the hotel most of their shitty lives. Dad was a gardener. Mom cleaned the rooms. They stayed on in the worker’s building when it shut down.”
He started trudging over to it. Cath followed; this time she didn’t need to be persuaded.
But she looked up as she walked along the front of the main building.
It boasted three floors, with a barrier of some kind running along the edge of the roof. Most of the higher windows were smashed, those at ground level were boarded up with wood that was as weathered and as decayed as the building it was supposed to be protecting. A paved area in front fought for its life among the knee-high weeds. As she passed by, she willed a window to open or a curtain to twitch – just for someone to be there. The thought – the delusion – made her realize how desperate she was. She turned her attentions to the smaller building.
It was a concrete bungalow with a roof, a door, and windows. Basic, unattractive, but functional.
None of that mattered. What mattered was that Vinnie was waiting at the door for her. She caught up with him and he went inside, walking along the hallway, knowing damn well that she wouldn’t be able to do anything but follow.
Chapter 31
At the doorway of the old bungalow Vinnie had inherited, Cath turned back and looked at the scene before her – the old hotel and its grounds, a few miles from the deserted gas station and a world away from civilization – wondering how the hell she was going to get herself out of this mess, let alone find her family. She couldn’t help but run her eyes over the large building to her side once more, not quite sure whether she was searching for help or clues.
Perhaps engaging Vinnie in small talk might yield some results.
“Must be a mess inside that hotel,” she hollered over her shoulder to him.
“Must be.”
“You, uh . . . you been inside the place lately?”
“I already told you, they’re not in there. They’re miles away.”
The comment hurt. Vinnie was smarter than anyone had ever given him credit for. It made the task she’d given herself that much harder.
She turned and headed along the hallway, checking out the interior. It was less dilapidated than the exterior, but it was still bare, dated, and screaming out for a deep clean.
“You live here alone?” she said as she glanced inside both front rooms, which didn’t take long. One was a living room with a couch and a TV, the other was a junk room. A tiny bathroom was sandwiched between the two back rooms. She came across Vinnie in one of those back rooms – a combined kitchen and diner affair that stank like a garbage dump.
“They’re not in this place either. Only the four rooms and a bathroom. So you can stop searching.”
Bastard.
“Drink?” he said, leaning casually on one hip.
Being friendly to him obviously wasn’t working, so she shook her head. “All I want is to find out how I get my family back.”
“It’ll happen in good time, lollipop. Just get in there and relax for a while.” He pointed into the other back room. “I need a beer even if you don’t.”
She stepped into the room Vinnie had pointed to. “This your room?” she shouted back.
“I live alone. They’re all my rooms.”
The room was basic, just one notch up from a cave. A well-worn mattress lay on a metal frame, and two grubby armchairs were the other side of it, arranged facing each other, next to a window. Against the opposite wall lay a huge, freestanding, wooden closet, which must have been six feet tall and seven or eight feet wide.
“Not tryin’ to escape, are ya?” she heard him shout.
She forced herself to shout back, “No.”
But the question made her check out the window frame. The inner frame that should have slid up to open was nailed to the outer frame. But the twelve panes of glass were separated by thin wooden sections that looked like they would easily break if she threw something in that direction. She gripped one of the armchairs and lifted it off the ground, testing its weight. No, she wouldn’t be able to hurl that through the window. The thought of throwing herself didn’t appeal either, but as a last resort, if things got bad enough, it was an option. She took a few moments to check out the back yard. It wasn’t very pretty. No plants, little grass, and even the copious weeds looked unhealthy. At the back end was a bank of earth with a wooden structure in front of it, where a few old cans dangled from a crossbar. A shooting range. That sounded about right for Vinnie. And it meant he probably knew how to shoot a gun as well as just brandish one.
“Didn’t I tell you to sit?”
The voice made her flick her head around. He was standing at the doorway clutching a bottle of beer.
“No. I don’t think you did.”
“Well, I’m telling you now. I mean, I’m asking you. Please sit down.”
“You know, I think I will have a beer after all.”
“So you can throw it through that window?” He shook his head.
She tried to smile at him, to put him at his ease, but images of Dan and Phoebe and Benjie stopped that idea in its tracks. He clearly noticed the sour expression that resulted.
“I’m sorry. Uncalled for. I don’t want to fall out with you, lollipop.”
She couldn’t let that one pass.
“What the hell do you mean by that, Vinnie? You’ve kidnapped my husband, my daughter, my son. How’s that not falling out with me?”
“No, no. I meant I won’t harm you.”
“Won’t harm me? You pointed a goddamn gun at me.”
He took one step over to her and she immediately sat. He took his pistol out and offered it to her, handle first.
Was this a cheap trick?
“Go on, take it.” He sat in the other chair and leaned forward, still holding the gun by its barrel. “Hold it.”
S
he slowly put her hand up, first touching and then caressing the handle, finally letting it nestle in her hand, her forefinger slipping into the trigger guard. Still, he held the barrel, edging his face lower until the nozzle touched his forehead.
If she were to pull her finger back, she would deposit his scrambled brains all over the wall behind. It should have felt empowering; it just felt plain weird.
“That’s good,” he whispered. “You have the chance to kill me and yet you don’t. It means that now I trust you. And that means you can trust me too.”
It was so, so tempting. But without Vinnie, she wouldn’t find Dan and the children. Of course, he knew that too.
“What do you want, Vinnie? What do you want in exchange for letting my family go free?”
He slapped the side of the gun, pulling it out of her grasp, then threw it in the air, letting it turn before he caught it, then put it back in the waistband of his jeans. He sat back, laughed, and took a slug of beer before he spoke.
“Would you say the two of us are getting along well?”
“As well as we need to.”
“So, it’s safe to say we trust each other?”
She shrugged, feeling her shoulders click with stiff, fibrous muscles. “Well, I’m trusting that you’ll tell me where my family are.”
“And I will, lollipop. I totally will. But first I need to talk to you.”
“Just tell me they’re safe, that they aren’t suffering.”
Vinnie squished his face up and nodded his head a few times. “Well, I’m sure they’ve had better days, but they’re not in any danger. They’re not gonna die if they don’t get freed in the next twenty minutes, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“So, what exactly do you want to talk about?”
“How I feel about you.”
“Okay. Go ahead and talk.”
He took another mouthful of beer and glanced out the window. “Trouble is, right now I feel like someone’s telling me to have a piss.”
“Uh . . . what?”
“You know. When you need a piss. When you so desperately need a piss. Then someone tells you to go now, and you can’t. You just can’t because the pressure gets to you.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Yes, you do. You see, talking about you, explaining how I feel about you . . . well, it isn’t something I find easy to do when I’m just asked like that.”
“Oh.”
“Oh. Yes, exactly. I know it might be hard for you to believe, but I’m . . . I’m not even sure I can say it.”
Now he sunk his head low, occasionally looking up at her.
“You can say it, Vinnie. There’s only the two of us here. Just say what’s on your mind.”
“That’s what I mean. You can be so fresh and straight with me. And when you are, I think . . . well, I think I’m in love with you.”
“Oh, Vinnie. You can’t be.”
“See. We’re not even married and you’re telling me what I can and can’t be. Come on, is that love or not?”
“But . . . but . . .”
“I’m getting old, Karen. Hair’s getting thin, muscles aren’t what they used to be. I know it’s hard for you to believe that I’ve changed, but I have. I want to give up on my old life of crime. I want a new start. I want to settle down and be a better person.”
“Settle down? You and me?”
He nodded. “That’s what I’m saying here, lollipop. I want you and me to be a proper couple.”
He knelt down, stuffed a hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out a small case. He opened it, holding it up to her, offering her the silver ring set around a small oval ruby.
“Vinnie, is this an engagement ring?”
“Why not? Like I said, I’m in love with you. Tell you the truth, I never stopped being in love with you. I dreamed about you all the time I was inside. Oh, hell, it’s all coming out now. But I guess that’s good, isn’t it? I’m over my nerves. I can be honest with you about my true feelings.”
He’s even madder than I thought, Cath’s mind was screaming. He’s deluded, deranged, and he needs help. Which means I need even more help.
“Uh, well . . .” she started.
“Please say yes, lollipop. I’ve changed, and I can change more. In time, I can be the man of your dreams.”
“But . . . I’m already married.”
“You can divorce Dan. I can wait. I want it to be like it used to be, like the old days, just you and me.”
But it was never just him and her; it was him and any woman – or girl – he could have.
“What do you say, lollipop?”
“Vinnie, that makes no sense. Divorce takes time. And what about Dan and the children? What are you going to do with them?”
“I know exactly what to do with them. If you wear this ring, if you say yes to my proposal, I’ll let ’em go.”
“But—”
“No more buts. Do you agree or not?”
“You’d really go through with it? You’d wait until I got divorced and marry me?”
“Oh, yes.” Vinnie nodded, strong and straight. “Yes, I would. It’s what I want. For one thing, it’s the only way I’ll release them – the only way you’ll ever see them again. For another, I’ve changed for the better, I really have, and I promise I’ll take care of you this time.” He reached over and held her hand. “Karen Fisher, will you marry me?”
She looked at the ring, the single ruby stone like fire in a man’s heart, then looked at Vinnie. She saw something in his eyes she’d never seen before: an innocent kindness.
He waited, transfixed, waiting for her to answer.
Chapter 32
Cath was every bit as transfixed as Vinnie. His marriage proposal was as bizarre as it was ludicrous, and she was finding it difficult to formulate any kind of reply.
She didn’t want to say no, but was damned if she was going to say yes – even merely to placate him. He carried on staring at her, waiting, and she felt bile creeping up her windpipe. In panic, she almost fell back on the small talk tactic, wanting to stall him by asking why he’d moved to Fresno in the first place or how his folks had died or just anything. But she pulled herself together, forcing herself to persevere with her own agenda.
“What about the other thing I wanted?” she said.
“‘Other thing’? Remind me, lollipop. What was that?”
“I want to know who your contact in the police is. I want the name of the person who told you about my new identity and which hotel I was staying at.”
He nodded agreeably. “Yeah, sure. You want answers, and I get that.”
“And?”
“How about I tell you as much as I can remember? That’s fair. I want to be fair with you, lollipop.”
“Go on.”
“About finding the motel, I didn’t need any inside information for that. Your sweet husband led me there. He went to the police station to collect his cell, and I followed him as he left – all the way to the parking space reserved for room 6. His fault, I’m afraid.”
“Is that the truth?”
“God’s honest. I’m not lying to you.”
“Okay, but how did you know my new identity and address in the first place? Who told you that?”
He shrugged, finishing off his beer before answering, “I don’t know.”
“Are you playing a game with me?”
“I genuinely don’t know the name, lollipop. All I know is the story; I know that some insider guy passed the details onto someone to settle a gambling debt. That person used a mule in Quentin to contact me, thinking I’d be prepared to pay for the information, which I was.”
“You sure you don’t know the name?”
“Sorry.”
“This is important to me, Vinnie. I need to know.” Cath grabbed the empty beer bottle from him and put it on the floor, then held his hand. “Please think. Think hard.”
Vinnie glanced down to the ring in his hand. “Well, I guess I do kn
ow a little more if it’s that important to you.”
“It is, Vinnie. I need to know.”
“It was a lot of money, so I had to ask how reliable the information was, where it had come from. Let me think . . . yeah, the guy told me about the schmuck who’d passed on the information. I remember him telling me the guy had big gambling debts, but was also some failed writer who wanted to be the next Stephen King or . . . John, uh . . . John Steinsomething. His wife was a cop with access to your witness protection records. Anyhow, he used the information to pay off some of his debts. And that really is all I can remember.”
“You mean . . . John Steinbeck?”
“Yeah, Steinbeck. Sounds right. That or Stephen King. Heard of King. Seen some of his movies. Never heard of the other guy.”
“Shit!”
“What’s wrong, lollipop?”
For a moment Cath was dumbstruck. Vinnie wouldn’t understand, so there was no point explaining. She was overcome with a strange combination of joy at knowing who had caused all of this – or, at least, knowing that Susan Jones would give her the name even if it had to be beaten out of her – and disgust at the confirmation that the information really had come from inside the police. Anger threatened to make her do something counterproductive. She had to control her feelings.
“You okay?” Vinnie said, the words softer than she ever imagined could come from his lips. “You don’t look too good.”
She ungritted her teeth, tried to relax, nodded, and gave him a smile. “Oh, I’m good.”
“Cool. And, well . . . I’ve answered your questions, but you haven’t answered mine. Would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”
Again, Vinnie just stared at her. Perhaps he really had changed. He’d put a gun to his head and let her – no, made her – take control of the trigger. He was clearly deranged, but alongside that he was almost . . . well, yes, almost sweet. Sweet? Vinnie? He wasn’t far off that, and she could humor him for a little while longer. Whatever, she had no real choice. She closed her eyes for a second, prayed that Dan would never find out what she was doing, then plucked the ring from the purple velvet that lined the box.
