by Sandra Balzo
‘Did you even consider telling me about the lake property?’ he asked. He’d just finished reaming someone on the other end for not finding the cabin in their background check of Ted.
‘I’d forgotten about it,’ I said, honestly. ‘And before you send someone to the guillotine, the cabin belongs to Ted’s mother, not to Ted.’
I pointed and Sarah took a right on to a single lane asphalt road.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ he grumbled. ‘We should have found it.’
I let that go, since I was glad he’d stopped yelling at me.
‘It sounds like the cabin is pretty far off the beaten track,’ Pavlik said. ‘I’ll head up, but we’ll also get hold of law enforcement up there. How far away are you?’
Thanks to Sarah generally knowing how to get to Lake Verde and my loathing the cabin enough to remember every turn that took me away from civilization, we had navigated our way there with little problem.
‘Close,’ I said.
‘How close?’
‘Umm . . .’
‘Pulling up the driveway close,’ Sarah said loudly.
‘You’re there?’ Pavlik thundered. ‘Think you could have waited any longer to call me?’
‘Thanks,’ I said to Sarah sourly.
To Pavlik I said, ‘We kept losing cell service. We’re on a country lane leading into the lake. We’re still a few miles away.’
‘Define “few”,’ Sarah muttered.
‘Is that Sarah with you?’
‘Yes.’
Sarah gave me a dark look.
‘Good,’ Pavlik said. ‘At least she has some common sense. If you’re right and Stephen Slattery is involved and knows Thorsen is in Lake Verde, he could go looking for him. Can I trust you not to go into the cabin?’
It was the first inkling that I’d gotten that he’d actually been listening when I told him my theory about Stephen.
‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘I’ll be careful. Is there anything else I should know?’
‘Yes. You are not a cop. Stay out of the cabin.’ He was talking in clipped sentences. He meant business. I didn’t care.
‘Gotcha,’ I said.
The sound on the other end might have been a growl.
‘I think I’m losing service again,’ I said. We were passing through a hilly area of glacial formations. Every time we went up moraine and down kettle, the volume of Pavlik’s voice followed suit.
‘Results . . . did she say . . .’
‘You’re cutting out,’ I said loudly into the phone.
We came up a rise and I heard, ‘ . . . Rachel never told you she was pregnant?’
‘The first I heard of it was when you said something at Ted’s,’ I said.
We were heading down the other side of the rise, and static kicked up again. Then, ‘. . . autopsy showed . . . not pregnant . . .’
‘What?’ I yelled.
‘Damn!’ Sarah said, rubbing her ear. ‘And you say I’m loud?’
I didn’t answer. I was looking at the useless phone. No bars indicating service. Not one.
‘I assume you lost him?’ Sarah asked.
I turned to Sarah. ‘Yup, he’s gone. Thing is, I think Pavlik was saying that Rachel wasn’t pregnant when they found her.’
‘She miscarried? Why wouldn’t she tell anyone?’ She flicked on her turn signal and changed lanes to pass another truck.
‘I don’t know. Maybe she couldn’t face people’s reactions. That mother of hers is no prize and she was apparently thrilled Rachel was pregnant. If Rachel lost the baby, I can just see her mother blaming Rachel for it.’
‘C’mon,’ Sarah said, slowing on a blind curve. ‘I never had one of the little buggers myself, but even I know a miscarriage isn’t anyone’s fault.’
I looked sideways at her. ‘You have met Mrs Slattery, right?’
‘Unfortunately, yes,’ Sarah said. ‘She’s such a bitch I was tempted to drop the Slatterys as clients.’
‘What changed your mind?’
Sarah gave a horsey laugh. ‘Commissions. Do you know what six percent comes out to when you’re buying and selling hotels? Besides, Stephen started to get involved and took over the real-estate dealings. He’s a dream to deal with.’
More like a nightmare, if you were Rachel. ‘If Rachel had told Stephen about the miscarriage, she might still be alive.’
‘If you’re right about him.’
I had to be right. Because if I was wrong, the only other solution was that Ted had killed Rachel.
And if that were true, Eric was driving straight into the arms of his loving, albeit murderous, father.
The property was dark as we drove up the gravel drive. The only reason I knew the cabin was there was that it stood in a clearing, a square one story with a triangle top, silhouetted against the reflection of the moon on the lake beyond it.
I didn’t say it wasn’t beautiful; I said it had rats. Not to mention the half-centipede I’d found in my Diet Coke glass our second day there.
‘There’s the Miata,’ I said, pointing to the little blue car tucked into the trees next to the drive. ‘That means Ted is here, but there’s no sign of Eric’s van, thank God.’
‘Or Slattery?’ Sarah asked, pulling to a stop just behind the Miata.
‘Nope.’ I was starting to relax. Maybe this was all going to work out. I’d go in and tell Ted I suspected he’d been framed. Then I’d talk him into surrendering to Pavlik. We could even have coffee while we waited for the sheriff.
Pleased with myself, I got out of the car. When I closed the door the dome light went out, leaving me in the dark. ‘I can’t see a thing out here. A little ambient city light would be nice.’
‘But then you can’t see the stars,’ Sarah said, opening her door to step out. ‘I’ve never seen so many.’
As she looked skyward, I grabbed her shoulder. ‘Don’t go all Brookhills Barbie on me here. I need the old Sarah. The one who thinks stargazing, not to mention tennis, is a waste of time.’
‘I just said there were a lot of them,’ she muttered defensively. ‘Not that I liked them.’
‘That’s my girl.’ I hesitated. ‘Is that a light?’ I was pointing toward the cabin, a good fifty yards away.
Even as I spoke, a light arced across the front of the cabin. Headlights of a car, coming up the driveway behind us. The faint glow in the house went out. Ted must have seen the light.
‘It’s Eric,’ I whispered to Sarah. It wasn’t so much the shape of the vehicle coming up the rutted drive, but the sound. Eric was driving my old minivan and I knew every rattle and groan of the pathetic old thing.
I wanted to reason with Ted without our son there. Eric didn’t know the details and I preferred it stayed that way.
‘Stop Eric and wait for the police,’ I hissed. ‘I’m going up to the cabin to talk to Ted.’
‘Just how am I going to stop Eric?’
‘He has headlights. Stand in the middle of the driveway and wave.’
Sarah folded her arms. ‘Are you crazy? I am not going to throw myself in front a teenager in a minivan. Not for you, not for anybody.’
‘Chicken.’ I stepped out and waved. The minivan stopped in a spray of gravel.
‘See?’ I said over my shoulder to Sarah.
As I approached, I could hear muffled sounds from inside the van. I couldn’t make out the words until Eric opened the driver’s side door. The automatic windows had quit being automatic about a year ago.
‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded.
‘It’s good to see you, too, sweetie.’ I leaned in to give him a hug. The ‘sweetie’ always made him roll his eyes, but the hug he took.
I stepped back to look at my son. In the dome light of the van, he could have been a young Ted. It was only when you studied Eric more closely that you saw that his eyes were more hazel than green and his hair was dark, instead of sandy brown.
‘I’m here for the same reason you are,’ I said. ‘To look for your father.’
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‘Is Pavlik with you?’ Eric looked around like he expected the sheriff was going to pop out from behind one of the trees. Eric liked Pavlik, but apparently he drew the line at his arresting Ted.
‘No, just Sarah.’ I gestured toward Sarah, who was still standing safely on the shoulder of the drive.
I swallowed hard. There had been enough lies and half-truths in this family. ‘I did call Pavlik. He’s sending the local police.’
‘Mom, why would you do―’ Eric started, but I held up my hand.
‘For your protection, Eric. I―’
Interrupting ran in the family. ‘Dad would never hurt me.’
‘It’s not Dad I’m worried about.’ I turned to Sarah, who had come over to join us. ‘You two stay here and wait for the police. I’m going to see Ted.’
‘I’m going with you.’ Eric started to climb out of the driver’s seat.
‘No,’ I said again. ‘You need to pull the van behind the Firebird. Then wait for me here. I’ll let you know when it’s all right to come in.’ Ted was still a suspect and if the police came in with guns, I didn’t want Eric in the line of fire.
He tried to protest, but this time it was Sarah who interrupted. ‘Listen to your mother,’ she snapped.
Eric’s face registered surprise. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
I looked at Sarah with new respect. ‘You’re getting good at this mothering stuff.’
‘Sam and Courtney are away visiting friends this week,’ Sarah said. ‘I need to keep my skills up. Stay sharp.’
‘Sharpen away,’ I said. Eric already was pulling the van over, so I started up the driveway, trying to be fast and quiet.
I didn’t want to startle Ted. I didn’t think there was anything more lethal than a can opener and a fly rod inside, but I couldn’t be sure. As I stepped on the first step leading up to the porch, though, the board creaked and a dog started to bark.
ChiChi, the chihuahua.
Best to identify myself. ‘Ted?’ I called. ‘It’s me, Maggy.’
I climbed the rest of the steps and peered between the slats of the shutters. All looked dark. ChiChi continued to bark, but no one was shooshing him.
Maybe he was the only one there. ChiChi and the rats.
I shuddered. It was dark, it was cold, and there were rats of both the canine and rodent variety inside. There might even be a human one.
I had my hand on the doorknob to try the door when I stopped.
Was this a good idea?
Eric was safe. Or as safe as anyone could be in Sarah’s care. As for Ted, Pavlik was—
Crash.
The sound was followed by whimpering.
ChiChi? Maybe. But I also thought I heard something else. Groaning. And the groaning sounded familiar.
Just like I had known the sound of my old minivan coming up the gravel drive, I recognized the groan of my ex-husband. Ted could be in real trouble, injured or even dying.
Then again, I’d heard him sound just as pathetic when he had the sniffles.
The sound came again. Without thinking, I turned the knob. The door, damn it, swung open.
Chapter Seventeen
As I stepped in, I was greeted by darkness, a puddle of piddle and a chihuahua. Sort of took the edge off.
Another groan. It sounded like it came from the floor directly in front of me. As I carefully shuffled forward, my eyes started to become accustomed to the dark. It helped that moonlight was streaming through the windows at the back of the house where the kitchen was located.
I slid sideways along the wall next to the door until I found a light switch. A dusty gooseneck lamp in the corner flickered on.
Ted was on the floor, his mouth covered with a piece of duct tape and a chair tipped over next to him. Even I realized this meant he was not alone. Had Stephen come and gone, leaving Ted tied up? Or was he still there?
Ted’s eyes were open and he was trying to say something, defeated by the duct tape. As I edged my way closer, I saw that his hands and legs also were bound with tape.
Along with cockroaches, duct tape could probably survive a nuclear winter. I pulled at the tape. It stretched a bit, but that was it. There was probably a knife in the kitchen, but God knew what else was in there. Maybe Stephen Slattery. Or rats.
Having sniffed at the fresh air outside and found it wanting, ChiChi came skittering back to see what I was doing. When he started to whine, I put my hand out and the little bugger tried to take a chunk out of my thumb.
‘Bite the tape, you weenie, not me.’ I slid him out the way.
‘Are you OK?’ I asked Ted as I fumbled at the duct tape. I planned to pull it off his mouth in one quick movement if I could ever find the end. Ted’s eyes were panicky. He knew I was a ‘take no hostages’ Band-Aid kind of person.
As I got ready to yank, I heard ChiChi’s toenails on the floor behind me. Turning to push him back again, I met beady eyes backed up by a long tail.
Rats. Or rat.
As I jumped up, ChiChi sprang out of the shadows barking. The rat turned tail and ran with the chihuahua in pursuit.
I stood for a second, letting my heart settle back down where it belonged. I’d seen enough rats today, between here and the Hamilton.
I stopped.
I was picturing the rat at the Hamilton when it had disappeared under the pile of garbage. The tomato sauce of pizza, accenting the quilted fabric underneath.
Pink quilted coat.
Or had it been a ‘mauve’ puffy jacket, as Amy put it?
The woman I’d seen going to the dental clinic the morning of Rachel’s disappearance had been wearing a parka that looked a lot like the discarded one in the trash of the Hamilton.
Coincidence? Maybe. But . . .
I thought about the box spring stripped of its fabric and next to the dumpster. Caron said it had looked nearly brand new when she first saw it there. Who had ripped it and why?
Ted was banging on the floor, trying to get my attention. I leaned down and, in one swift movement, ripped the duct tape from his mouth.
The first sound out of it was a scream of pain. The second: ‘She’s here.’
‘I know,’ I said, and turned.
Chapter Eighteen
Emma Byrne. And she had a gun.
‘Uh-oh.’ Ted said from his position on the floor.
Emma stepped out of the kitchen where she must have hidden when she heard me come in. I held up my hands and started backing toward the door.
‘Stop now,’ Emma said. ‘You don’t want to get hurt.’
‘It’s a little late for “don’t want to’s”, isn’t it?’ I asked, still backing.
Emma’s blue eyes were glistening with tears. ‘You don’t understand. We didn’t want any of this to happen. Rachel . . .’
Ted groaned. His lips looked like he’d been at Lady Vickie’s Botox and Collagen Party.
‘. . . she was the anointed one. Stephen barely registered on the Slattery scale. Things were better when Rachel left the company, but then she got pregnant and we knew it was all over. Eve would never let go of that baby. Nothing and nobody else would matter.’
‘If Rachel was pregnant,’ I said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, she sat in my living room and drank wine. Would she do that if she was pregnant?’
‘You’re lying.’
I stepped back toward the doorway keeping my hands still up. I was hoping Sarah and Eric would see me.
‘Stop!’ Emma waved the gun at me. I wasn’t sure she could shoot it, but she sure was good at waving it.
‘I’m unarmed,’ I said. ‘If you shoot me, it’s murder. But then you’ve already committed murder.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘I get that you were having an affair.’ I gestured in a ‘no-harm-no-foul’ kind of way, as she bristled. ‘I also understand that two people in an affair –’ I looked down at Ted – ‘could truly love each other. But what I don’t understand is why you had to involve poo
r Ted here. Why frame him? The key cards, the calendars, the supposed affair – with you, in fact.’
Emma looked startled. ‘People thought I was having an affair with Ted? Whoever said that?’
Good question. But remembering whether anyone had actually said it or it was just a figment of my fertile imagination would take more brain cells than I could muster right now.
‘Why is it so far-fetched?’ I asked. ‘After all, you’ve known each other since dental school. Even I wondered.’
‘Really?’ Emma looked genuinely aghast. ‘But that’s ridiculous.’
‘Yes. But I didn’t realize it at the time.’ I waited a beat, then added. ‘And I’m betting you didn’t either.’
She stared at me for what seemed like a minute, but was probably five seconds. Then she nodded. It might not have been outright acquiescence, but it was certainly acknowledgment.
I sensed an opportunity and ramped up the empathy. ‘This isn’t going to work. You know that, don’t you?’
She didn’t answer. She was staring at me again, like I could see right through her.
I wished I could, but having her think I could was almost as good. ‘No one gets to live happily ever after, Emma.’
‘Why not?’ she whispered. ‘All the songs and the movies tell us we can. They make us believe in fairy stories.’ She gave an ironic little laugh.
The gun leveled up toward me. ‘Why can’t they just leave us alone? Why can’t we just be happy?’
‘Because you’re not like “them”,’ I said. ‘You can never live up to their standards.’
Emma was weakening, but I suspected she had reinforcements nearby. I just didn’t know how nearby.
The nose of her gun dropped a bit and I started forward. At the same time, a yellow blur came through the doorway. A tennis ball.
Leave it to Sarah. Too bad she hadn’t taken up bowling.
ChiChi sprang after the tennis ball as it ricocheted off the wall and back toward Emma. Taking advantage of the diversion, I dove at her. We fell to the ground, Emma still holding the gun, me trying to keep it from pointing at me. As we struggled, a shadowy figure appeared over us.
