“Stop!” It came out of his mouth in a sob.
“She knows everything.” Kaitlyn hugged him. “I’m so sorry.”
He didn’t stop to question how ridiculous this story was. Why was Kaitlyn doing this? Confess everything? It didn’t make any sense. And forget whether or not Meggie knew—how would she have leveled such an accusation at Kaitlyn in the first place? Blink it? God, why didn’t he wake up?
He was clinging to Kaitlyn now, sobbing, but she pushed him away. Her voice hardened. “Now you know what has to be done.”
“No, please.”
“It’s going to get out. If you don’t take care of it now—finish it—everyone will know.”
He turned a dull, lizard-like gaze toward the bed. For the first time since he’d entered the room, his eyes met Meggie’s and held them.
She blinked twice: no. She did it again. NO!
Chapter Nineteen
Eric lay in bed, worrying. Guarding the cell phone didn’t seem so important a task now that he was doing it. After dinner he’d gone straight to his room. He shut the door, tried to lock it. But the doors here didn’t have locks. Resident facilities never did. That was UNSAFE.
He took out the phone and hid it under his pillow, then lay down. A nervous tickle squirmed in his stomach every time someone walked by in the hall. When Diego called in for him to get ready for bed, he put on his pajamas, then stuffed the phone down his underpants when he went in to brush his teeth and use the bathroom. He almost dropped it in the toilet.
About an hour after lights out, a quiet knock sounded on his door. Diego entered holding a penlight with a blue beam. Eric squinted as the light hit him in the face.
“Sorry, Ruk.” He lowered the light. “You’ve got the phone?”
Eric handed it over with some reluctance.
“Why is it so warm?”
“I had it down my underwear for safety.”
“Yuck. Hombre, you didn’t need to do that. It was in your nightstand all week and nobody found it.”
Diego wiped it on his pant leg, then turned it on and messed around with the buttons. He made a little movie of Eric, to prove he could work it, then dropped the phone in the pocket of his scrub top.
“Okay. Be back in a few.”
As soon as Diego left, Eric started to think that his aide had tricked him. There was no need to put the phone under his pillow or drop it down his shorts. Diego was right—it had been sitting safely in the nightstand drawer all week. Diego only told him to guard it so he’d feel useful.
“I’m not Sherlock Holmes. I’m not even Dr. Watson, 221B Baker Street.”
He climbed out of bed and threw open the shutters to the balcony. It was raining hard now, and water streamed off the roof. He stuck his hand out from the balcony and let the water flow around it. Boy, was it cats and dogs out there.
His building stood on stilts, pushing it into the canopy like a treehouse, but tonight he felt the trees and heard their branches bending in the wind and beneath the rain, but could only see shadows. A little light reflected from over the roof of his building, in the direction of the main hall, but it wasn’t enough to see far.
Then a light turned on in one of the rooms in the habitat opposite his. He moved to the side of the balcony so he didn’t have to squint through the sheet of water pouring off the front, but only through normal rain. No, the light wasn’t coming from the opposite room, but from its balcony.
“Someone else is awake.”
That building had a ramp up from the forest floor, and it twisted back and forth like a snake until it reached the suspended walkway that linked the habitat to the main building. That habitat must be where the wheelchair people lived. Right, because it was closer to the dining hall and the patio, so they didn’t have as far to go. Covered walkways linked his habitat to that one. Good thing, so Diego didn’t have to walk out in the rain.
And then it occurred to him that the light was probably coming from Meggie’s porch. That’s because Diego needed light to see her, to interview her with the cell phone camera.
Because the habitats were like starfish arms, radiating from a central point, the porch opposite him was only about thirty feet away across the open air, even though you’d have to walk a lot farther to get there from where Eric stood. He leaned out to see if he could peer into Meggie’s room. It was too dark to see much. Shadows moved. Figures. People talking and waving their arms. The rain was too loud to hear anything. Who were they?
One must be Diego. Was the other one Meggie?
“Don’t forget. She’s locked in the dungeon. The witch put her there, and—”
One of the figures moved closer to the open doors, and a bit of light caught her face before she returned to the shadows. The words froze on his lips.
It was her. The witch.
*
Meggie blinked furiously, trying to get Benjamin’s attention. But he was staring at the wall behind her, licking his lips.
“Kait, I don’t know.”
“It has to be done. She knows too much. And if she tells…”
“But tonight?”
“Tonight, my dear. People are looking for her. Soon, they will find her.”
Kaitlyn stripped the sheet from Meggie’s body and yanked it free where it tucked under the mattress. She folded it twice, then twisted it in a knot. She held it out to Benjamin, who shook his head and took a step backward.
Don’t do it. Please, for God’s sake.
“Take it. I know you don’t want to, I know this sucks. But you have to do it.”
Benjamin didn’t reach for it, but he didn’t move toward the door, either. And he didn’t say no. When Kaitlyn shoved the twisted-up sheet into his chest, he took it with shaking hands. She pushed him toward the bed. He looked down at the sheet, at Meggie’s still body, at the wall behind her head. Anywhere but her face.
Kaitlyn moved to the open doors that led onto the porch. She wore an ugly expression, like the face of a farmer who has discovered a rat’s nest in the woodpile and now stands above the baby rats with a shovel in hand, ready to get the unpleasant task over with.
Benjamin clenched the sheet in his fists. He looked like he was going to be sick all over Meggie. He bent and lowered it with shaking hands.
Meggie stared up at him, eyes bulging. No blinking now. Only waiting as he lowered the sheet toward her mouth and nose. Her fiancé. Husband. The man who had married her under false pretenses, far away from anyone who might have objected. The man nominally in charge of her care. Was now about to murder her.
The sheet came down. Loose at first, it soon pressed hard into her mouth and nose. She struggled for air. The sheet tightened, then twisted, and then he was bearing down on her face, snarling, sobbing, cursing Kaitlyn and himself. Meggie couldn’t breathe. Terror swept over her.
Why? How had she survived all this time only to die like this? Her horrific ordeal at the bottom of the cave, wedged in the rock. The fight for the surface, then Kaitlyn untying the rope so she’d fall. A high spine injury that left her locked away from the world. Years of silence and frustration. The long, agonizingly boring days. Waiting. Always waiting, and hoping against hope that someone would help her.
And now they would kill her. Nobody would even know how she’d died. They’d believe she died in her sleep. Nobody would ever find her killers, learn what had left Meggie paralyzed in the first place. It was too much injustice to stand. The universe shouldn’t be so cruel.
The sheet went slack on her face. Air came in. Not enough, not yet, but some. She sucked greedily to fill her lungs. The sounds of struggle.
He did it, she thought at first. He finally stood up to her.
But then another man was there, crying for help in Spanish. The sheet jerked off her face, and she caught people moving back and forth in her vision. A fist flew through the air. The newcomer cried out.
It was an aide, Meggie realized. Too early for rounds. How had he stumbled into here?
Two bodies s
lammed into the railing on her bed. They had him, whoever it was, both Kaitlyn and Benjamin pinning him down, while they punched at him, wrapped the sheet around his head.
Why wasn’t he shouting anymore? Why wasn’t he screaming for help? If only Meggie could turn her head, she could see what was going on. Something splattered on her face, warm and wet. It dripped from the tip of her nose onto her lips. A sharp, metallic taste hit her mouth.
Blood.
The man groaned in pain. They pushed him further over the railing. until his head was all the way down to Meggie’s chest. The sheet covered his head. Benjamin had his hands around the man’s throat, while hands flailed back, trying to get to eyes, mouth, anything.
Meanwhile, Kaitlyn was down low, grunting and thrusting. Each time she pushed forward, the man shuddered. His body convulsed on top of Meggie. Dear God, what was Kaitlyn doing to him?
At last he stopped fighting. He lay slumped across Meggie. A final twitch, then nothing. The other two pulled back. For a moment, all was silent except for the drumming rain.
Her heart pounding, Meggie tried to figure out what had happened.
Someone had burst in. While Benjamin was smothering her, one of the aides must have come walking down this way—why, she couldn’t say—and heard something. He came in, caught these two in the midst of murdering her, and tried to intervene. Then they’d killed him.
“Oh, my God.” Benjamin sounded sick. He staggered backward. “No, I don’t want it.”
“Hold the knife.”
“No!”
“Then give me the sheet. Quickly. He’s bleeding all over.”
They unraveled the sheet, spread it out on the floor, then finally jerked the dead man off Meggie’s chest. He slumped to the floor. She heard them wrapping the body.
Kaitlyn picked up something from the floor. A blue light flickered across the wall. She turned it off and pocketed it.
“Why did he have to come in here?” Benjamin asked. “I thought they didn’t do their rounds until later.”
“He wasn’t on his rounds, he was checking on Meggie. This is the guy I spotted talking to those people at the Devil’s Cauldron.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. He’s the one trying to get her out. Well, there’s one problem taken care of. Should buy us some time.” She sighed. “Too bad you took so blasted long with Meggie. Now we’ll have to do it again.”
“She’s a mess,” Benjamin said. “Blood on her face and chest. Someone will come in and see her.”
“No, they won’t.”
“How?” he demanded. “How the hell are they going to miss it?”
“Because she won’t be here when they come, got it?”
Benjamin fell silent.
“Now listen to me. The first thing is to get rid of this body. Then we’ll worry about cleaning the rest of this up. Including Meggie. It’s going to be tricky. Not like having her suffocate in her sleep. That would have been perfect. We’ll have to get rid of her body, too. Dammit.”
“I don’t understand. How are we going to move him out of here without being seen? They lock the door down to the ramp at night. We’ll have to haul him past the nurses station and through the front door. Meggie, too.”
“God, you are so stupid sometimes. You’re worse than that dumb kid I questioned at breakfast.”
“I’m sorry.”
“We’re not hauling them anywhere. They’re going over the railing.”
“Oh.”
“Starting with this one.”
Together, they dragged the body out the open doors onto the balcony. Some grunting and heaving as they lifted him up. Meggie waited in fear, sure that the first thing they would do when they got back was to finish her off, then do the same thing. But when they returned, she had one more reprieve.
Kaitlyn stripped out of her clothes and dropped them in a pile. She opened the wardrobe door and fished around inside until she found some of Meggie’s clothes. While she dressed, she gave Benjamin instructions.
“While I’m gone, smother her. No more fooling around.”
“With what? The sheet—”
“You’ll find something. Strangle her with your hands, if you have to.”
“My God.”
“I have to go out the front door and all the way around the building. Then I’ve got to find the body and drag it into the woods. That gives you plenty of time to grow a pair and get it done. By the time I get back from the woods, you’d better be done. Throw her down to me. Then toss the mattress.”
“I don’t know, Kait.”
“You don’t know what?” Her voice was scalding.
“If I can do it. If I can kill her.”
“If you don’t, you’re on your own. I’ll walk right out the gates and get in the car.”
“You can’t do that. They’ll find me here. I’ve got blood on my shirt and hands.”
“Exactly.”
“What are we going to do, anyway? What if there are droplets of blood on the walls or the floor?”
“First the bodies, then we wake Usher.” She sounded frustrated. “He’s in this deep enough already. But we’ve got to take care of this before the night shift comes through to check on her. That gives us about thirty minutes, so get it done.”
She went outside again, maybe to throw her bloody clothes down with the body. When she returned, she seemed calmer.
“It was a screwup, no question. But if we keep our heads, we’ll be okay. Just do what I tell you. Take care of her and throw her over. Got it?”
He made a swallowing sound, and when he spoke, his voice was thin but determined. “Got it. You can count on me.”
“Good.”
She left. Meggie waited. This was it. Time to see if Benjamin could go through with it without Kaitlyn standing over his shoulder, goading him on.
Benjamin rummaged through Meggie’s drawers and wardrobe, cursing in a low voice. When he came back, there was nothing in his hands. He stood for a long time, motionless.
“That’s it, then,” he said in a flat, dead voice. “I’ll have to do it with my hands.”
He met her gaze. She blinked her eyes frantically. No reaction.
He pinched her nose shut with his left hand. He cupped his right hand and brought it toward her mouth. It hesitated above her lips, and a look of self-loathing swept over his face, like a final, horrified realization of what he was contemplating. Then he closed his eyes.
His palm pressed against her mouth and cut off her air.
Chapter Twenty
Hiring a lancha cost Wes 150,000 colones (about 300 bucks), plus another hundred in U.S. dollars. Basically, everything they had on them. He grumbled to Becca that they could have hired a taxi to take them to the coast, spent a day scuba diving, had a nice lobster dinner, then returned by bedtime in what it cost to retrieve his cell phone from the Devil’s Cauldron.
“And that’s assuming Diego comes through for us.”
“Your hypothetical taxi driver wouldn’t have to cross the lake in a downpour, then wait who knows how long on the other side.”
True, Wes thought as he squinted against the driving rain and through the faint light cast off the front of the bow. And the poor guy had just sat down to dinner when Wes came pounding on his door. He had looked sadly at his casado—a plate of rice and beans with chunks of chicken—and sighed deeply when Wes said they needed urgent passage across the lake.
“Sé que es una molestía … ” Wes added. I know it’s a hassle.
So how much? The man gave his price and Wes swallowed hard and negotiated down to what was essentially all the cash they had on hand. Uncle Davis was going to love this expense report. It would have been cheaper to stay at the luxury house on the other side of the lake.
Becca hunched inside her rain poncho, pinching it shut at the face to keep out the rain. Wes didn’t even have that; his poncho was a black garbage sack with holes for his head and arms. The boat owner looked miserable leaning over the wheel,
drenched. But once he’d taken the money, he hadn’t breathed a word of complaint. And instead of sitting behind the windshield, he stood so he could better see the faint outline of the opposite shore and thus keep them moving at a good clip.
It took twenty-five minutes to cross the lake, or twice as long as the trip had taken by daylight. Fortunately, it wasn’t windy, and the surface remained relatively calm. Little hacking up and down through waves.
The motor cut to idle and the man asked Wes to reach beneath his seat for the flashlight and pass it up. The man shone it along the coast, took them in a little closer, then continued his search. The light stopped on the pilings of an old wooden dock, the platform of which had long since rotted or floated away. He then took them east along the shoreline, picking his way past rocks and partially-submerged tree stumps. At last, he expertly pulled up to shore. He jumped out onto a sandy beach.
“Señora,” he said, and held out his arms to help Becca down.
Wes was expected to hop down on his own power.
“Cuanto?” the man asked as he tied his boat to a tree trunk. How long?
“An hour, maybe,” Wes answered in Spanish. “Hour and a half, tops. We’ve got to hike up to the cauldron, grab something, and come back.”
“I don’t want to be here all night.”
“You said you’d wait.”
The man frowned, then gave a reluctant nod. “Está bien.”
“Look, if it turns out to be longer than two hours, I’ll pay you twenty bucks an hour. I won’t cheat you, I promise.”
This mollified the man. It would be a miserable night, sitting out here with his boat, hungry and tired when he should be home tucking into a hot plate of casado, but it was doubtful he had this kind of a paycheck waiting at the end of a typical day, either.
Wes and Becca grabbed their backpacks, checked to make sure the seals hadn’t popped loose on the bags holding their batteries or anything else they couldn’t afford to get wet, then fished out their flashlights and looked for the trailhead to the Devil’s Cauldron.
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