Suspicious Origin

by MacDonald, Patricia

  Zoe stood and came walking toward him up the driveway.

  “Come on, honey,” he said. “Let’s get you home.”

  Zoe’s face was a pale triangle, with dark hollows around her eyes. “Dad,” she said in a hushed voice. “Kirby’s here.”

  “Who the hell is Kirby?” said Alec, opening the door to the Mercedes. “Go on. Get in, Zoe. I’m freezing out here.”

  “Vicki’s cat,” Zoe said, glued to the spot where she stood.

  “Is that the cat you were minding when they went away?”

  Zoe nodded.

  Alec sighed. “Look honey, when we get someplace permanent to live, you can have a cat of your own. But until then…”

  “Dad,” Zoe wailed, amazed at his obtuseness.

  “What?”

  “Vicki wouldn’t leave him behind.”

  “Maybe she’s still here,” said Alec absently.

  “Mr. Carmichael said she left.”

  “Well, honey, any woman who would leave her baby behind probably wouldn’t have too much trouble leaving a cat.”

  “No,” said Zoe, stamping her foot. “She wouldn’t leave him. She wouldn’t.”

  Alec stared at her, exasperated. “All right. All right. Whatever you say. Let’s just chalk it up to inexplicable things in the universe, and go home.”

  “Is that what we’re doing about Aunt Britt, too?” Zoe demanded ruefully.

  Alec shook his head, and climbed into the front seat of the car. Zoe remained standing outside the car on the passenger side. Alec tapped on the horn. “Zoe,” he said in a stern voice.

  Zoe bent down and stuck her head into the car. “Dad, look.” She pointed through the windshield.

  Alec looked to see where she was pointing. At first, he didn’t see it. Then, as he squinted, he saw movement in the trees behind the house, and two bulky figures, bundled up and wearing skis, gliding slowly out of the woods and into the backyard. One of the skiers was bending low, as if winded, and moving with obvious difficulty. Alec got out of the car.

  The two figures halted at the sight of Alec and Zoe. Then Alec heard the pitiful squall of an infant and realized that one of the skiers was carrying a pack on her back from where the sound was emanating.

  “Kevin?” he called out. “Caroline?”

  Kevin and Caroline stood still in the yard.

  He began to walk toward them. They looked at one another. Then Kevin called out, in a weak voice, “Alec.”

  “What the hell are you two doing,” said Alec. “You went skiing?”

  “Cross-country skiing. Just to get out of the house. Get a little exercise,” said Kevin, trying to sound cheerful. But there was an unmistakable feebleness in his voice.

  Alec approached the spot where they stood. “In the dark?”

  “It’s a beautiful night,” said Caroline.

  “Kevin, are you supposed to be doing that?” Alec asked. “With those ribs of yours?” He didn’t mention how bizarre a decision it seemed to him to take a newborn out on a night this cold. These exercise nuts were all alike. They always overdid it.

  “I’m okay,” said Kevin dismissively. “What brings you here?”

  “Do you want to talk inside?” asked Alec. “You look beat.”

  “No, no. I’m fine. But if you just came for a visit, maybe tomorrow would be better. Caro’s got to get the baby down…”

  “Oh, no. It’s not…this isn’t a visit. Uh, we were looking for my sister-in-law. Britt. She didn’t get on her flight home today. Appar-endy, she came over to uh…our old place… to leave some flowers for Greta and…that’s the last anybody’s seen of her.”

  Kevin and Caroline stared at him.

  “We wondered if she stopped by here maybe.”

  “Why would she stop by here?” said Caroline.

  “Oh, I don’t know. To say good-bye. I’m guessing.”

  “No,” said Caroline. “She wasn’t here. Was she, Kevin?”

  Kevin held his side, and shook his head. “No, haven’t seen her.”

  “Okay,” said Alec. “Well, thanks.”

  “Why is Kirby here?” Zoe demanded.

  “Don’t speak to me in that tone,” said Caroline angrily.

  “Caro, please,” Kevin whispered.

  “She just left him behind,” said Caroline, recovering her composure.

  “She wouldn’t,” Zoe protested.

  The baby began to wail again. “Well, she did. I have to go in,” said Caroline. “You can take the cat if you want him, Zoe.”

  “Maybe when we get settled somewhere,” said Alec. “We can barely manage ourselves right now. Look, we need to go. Come on, Zoe.”

  Caroline glided to the back steps and freed the skis from her boots. She started up the steps. “Kevin, come on. You have to help me with this baby carrier.”

  Kevin turned to Alec. “Sorry we couldn’t help you.”

  Even in the moonlight, Alec could see the beads of sweat on Kevin’s forehead. “Kevin, let me help Caroline with the baby carrier. You look like you’re hurting,” said Alec.

  “I’m fine,” Kevin snapped. He began to make his way slowly toward the door.

  “Kevin, the baby,” Caroline called from inside the house.

  “I’ll do it,” said Alec, clapping Kevin gently on the shoulder and walking past him to the porch steps. “That’s the least I can do. Come on. You saved my little girl.”

  “Leave it,” Kevin cried, forcing himself to go faster.

  “We won’t stay,” said Alec.

  “NO,” Kevin cried.

  But Alec, trailed by Zoe, had already entered the house.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  “Let’s just leave her here,” Kevin had said to his wife. “She’ll die of exposure. She’ll never last the night.”

  “We can’t take that chance,” Caroline replied. “She knows everything. I’ll do it if you want.”

  “No,” said Kevin. “My God.”

  “Kevin, if she lives through this, she can…”

  “She’s a human being. Our son is right here with us. Do you want him to be a witness to a killing, his first days on earth?” He hesitated, as if realizing it was too late for that particular concern. “We can’t just murder her in cold blood.” And then he was quiet for a moment, obviously thinking of all he now knew about his wife. “I can’t,” he said.

  “I know,” said Caroline grimly. “You’re not being much help.”

  “Stop it,” said Kevin, grabbing her by the shoulders. “Don’t do this. I can’t stand much more of this. There’s so little left as it is.”

  “So little of what?” said Caroline. Kevin let her go, and turned away.

  “Never mind,” he said.

  “All right,” Caroline said. “All right. But if we leave her like this, tied up and gagged, they’ll know when they find her that it was no accident.”

  “Then let’s untie her,” he said.

  “Are you kidding? All she has to do is make her way back along this trail to the logging road and somebody could see her and pick her up,” Caroline protested.

  “Who’d be driving up here at this time of night?” he cried.

  Caroline shook her head. “Oh no. She might last till morning. By then there will be skiers and snowmobilers up here. Too risky.”

  Kevin shook his head in despair.

  Caroline looked around and then began to nod. “I know,” she said.

  “What?” Kevin asked.

  “How about a compromise? We untie her, but we roll her down the slope. She won’t stop rolling until she hits a tree, and then she’ll land in the tree well,” she said.

  Tree well, Britt thought. Alec had said something about tree wells when they were out on the snowmobile. Some danger…

  “She’ll never be able to climb out of it and get back up the hill,” said Caroline cheerfully.

  “She’s not gonna roll down the hill in that long woolen coat. She’d go about two feet,” Kevin scoffed.

  “Ah
,” said Caroline. “Here’s the good part. We take off her coat, and any sweater she’s wearing. Plus her gloves. Her boots.”

  “Right,” said Kevin sarcastically. “That won’t look suspicious when they find her. I mean, doesn’t everybody take their clothes off in twenty-degree weather?”

  “Actually,” said Caroline. “The answer to that is yes.”

  Kevin frowned at her, curious in spite of himself.

  “It’s well documented. When they find the bodies of hikers who have died of hypothermia, they are often mostly undressed. I read about it somewhere. The experts think that when a person is freezing to death, there’s some kind of burst of heat in the body, just before death. And, of course, people are delirious by that time. They tear off their clothes.”

  “Really?” said Kevin.

  Caroline nodded. “Shall we? I’m sure she’ll roll just fine without her clothes. And she’ll never last the night that way.”

  Britt stared at Caroline, who was deciding her fate with all the emotion one might accord to a potted plant. Caroline turned her back to Kevin. “Get the carrier off me,” she said. “I can’t do it with this on me.”

  As if he were dragging chains, Kevin trudged over to her and removed the carrier from Caroline’s back. He placed it on the ground. Caroline crouched down beside Britt who was still kneeling on the packed snow. “Okay,” she said. “First gloves, and then we’ll get the boots off.”

  Caroline shoved Britt over on her side, and yanked her gloves down from her wrists. Britt clenched her fists, trying to resist, but Caroline stomped on her fingers, and Britt released her fists in agony. Then, Caroline crouched down and unzipped the leather boots Britt was wearing. One after the other, she tossed them down the slope. “Now the socks,” she said.

  Britt curled her toes against the assault, but Caroline pulled off her heavy socks with a couple of tugs, and tossed those away also. Britt’s bare feet sank into the snow, and the cold shot up through her, making her head ache.

  “Now,” said Caroline, pushing the tweed coat down off Britt’s shoulders. “I’m going to pull this down. When we cut her hands loose, yank it off her and toss it away. Kevin, you’ve got to help me. She’s probably going to fight like a little demon.”

  Kevin walked over and squatted down, groaning.

  “Have you got your knife?” Caroline asked.

  “Yes,” Kevin said.

  Britt knew she was helpless, but she stared at Kevin. If he was going to kill her, she was not going to make it easier for him by closing her eyes. He was going to have to look in her eyes and acknowledge what he was doing. And then, when he cut her loose, she was going to claw those eyes out of his head if she could.

  “When I say three,” Caroline ordered, “cut the hands, but keep the feet bound. She can’t get away with her feet bound. Leave the duct tape for last. Ready? One, two, three.”

  Britt felt a tugging at her wrists. In the next moment, her arms were free and she felt relief mixed with agony as they were released and separated. In the next instant, her coat was ripped from her back. She thrashed wildly, trying to punch and claw at them, but Kevin and Caroline had redoubled their grasp on her. Britt fought back, but the two of them struggled to hold her down. Caroline was trying to force her turtleneck up and over her head but Britt twisted away from her.

  “That’s it,” said Kevin. “Let her go. That’s all we can do.”

  “Oh, all right,” said Caroline. “Cut her feet and roll her.” She let go of the sweater and grabbed the corner of the duct tape on Britt’s mouth. She ripped it off in one searing tear, and Kevin cut Britt’s bare feet free.

  Britt cursed, and kicked out, landing a blow on Kevin, who fell back on his heels. She tried to scramble away, but they were on her in an instant. Awkwardly lifting her thrashing, protesting body by the upper arms and ankles, they dragged her to the edge of the trail.

  “Now,” Caroline cried. “Lift her up and then well drop her.” They swung and released her, and Britt felt herself sailing a short way down through the air, and then bouncing on the icy slope and starting to roll. She clawed at the snow with her bare hands and feet, rolling helplessly until she suddenly landed against a tree with a jarring thud that reverberated through her frame. I’m safe, she thought. I’m free. And for a moment her heart lifted. Then she tried to get up. The snow beneath the tree was soft and light and deep. She struggled, but could not get to her feet. Instead, she sank farther.

  She kicked and clawed at it frantically, but it was like sinking into a pool of mercury. The tree well. Banked by the tree’s trunk, and untrodden by any vehicles or creatures, the snow of a dozen snowfalls had accumulated in a hill of snow. Panic gripped Britt, making it hard for her to breathe.

  “Let’s go,” said Caroline.

  By the moonlight, at the top of the slope, Britt could see Kevin reattaching the baby carrier to Caroline’s back. He stuffed the pieces of rope into the carrier, under the baby’s blanket. Caroline stuck the toes of her touring boots into the pinholes of the lightweight skis and began to glide off on one of the cross-country trails through the woods.

  “Come on,” she called out to Kevin.

  Kevin sighed heavily and turned around. He looked down the hill and met Britt’s gaze.

  Britt gasped for breath. “Help me, Kevin,” she pleaded. “Don’t leave me here.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t,” he said. He hesitated as if he wanted to say more but then he averted his eyes.

  *•

  “Don’t leave me here. Please. Help me.”

  He looked around the clearing, and found a tree limb on the ground. Walking over to the edge of the packed snow, he tossed it down to her. “I have to go,” he said.

  “How can you do this…?” Britt pleaded. “You’re not evil.”

  Kevin laughed, but his eyes were tragic. He rose up to his feet, and pushed his boots into the skis. “Yes, I am,” he said. “I just didn’t know it.” Then, he turned, and, stabbing the snow with his poles, glided off into the dark woods.

  She watched him leave with disbelief, despair. How could he leave her here like that? It was inhuman. The quiet of the night was absolute, except for the whistle of the wind. Her feet were already numb. Her fingers were dead. She could no longer feel them. Her face was numb. Her upper arms ached from being pulled back so far, for so long. At least there was still sensation in them. She knew the night had not reached its coldest temperature yet. How long could a person survive in these conditions?

  She’d heard of hypothermia. She’d just never imagined that that was how she was going to die. Hypothermia was for people who liked to go spelunking or mountain climbing for amusement. She’d never attempted any of those activities. She didn’t even have a hobby. She liked going to Cape Cod in the summer, and swimming in the ocean, in August, when it warmed up a little bit. She liked sitting home, and reading. She started to imagine herself on a porch glider, on a warm day, drowsy over a book, and before she knew it, her eyelids were drooping, and the torpor of sleep was overtaking her.

  Then, just before she fell into the insensible, deadly bliss of sleep in the freezing cold and the snow, she became vaguely aware of what was happening to her. Wake up, she thought. Because if you fall asleep here, you may never wake up. It won’t do you a damn bit of good to have been left alive.

  She thought about the last exchange between Caroline and Kevin. Obviously he had known she was a killer when he married her. All that talk of the first time she had been on trial. But now Not only had she murdered Vicki and Dave. But Greta. The fire. She had set the fire to kill Greta and keep her secret from Vicki. In a way, that knowledge made Britt feel a small bit better. Just to know that Greta had not set the fire to kill herself. That she had not made any such decision to take Zoe with her.

  But what, she thought, trying to rouse herself from the stupor which threatened her, what does it matter anyway? She had to stop thinking. Her only thought now had to be how to stay alive. That was all that
should matter to her now. If she could make it back alive, she could tell Alec that it hadn’t been Greta. She could imagine his relief when he learned how wrong he had been. Stop it, she thought. Get out. Nothing else matters.

  Britt reached out across the fluffy snow, feeling herself sink down with every movement. She remembered reading once that if you were in quicksand, you should try to lie out lengthwise, like a swimmer. Maybe it would work for snow as well, she thought. She stopped trying to stand up but simply tried to lie flat and wriggle over the snows surface, as if she were in the water. Last chance, she kept saying to herself. Only hope. Weakened by pain, it seemed as if she couldn’t force herself to continue, and a despairing thought swept over her. What kind of life is this that you have made? No one cares if you live or die, she thought. No one is waiting for you, wondering what became of you. What does it matter to anyone? Who would mourn you?

  And then she thought of Zoe. You love her, Alec had said. And Zoe, in parting, had said, “Love you.” Hating herself now for her own weakness Britt tried to snuff out the flicker of that memory. Zoe hardly knows you. She won’t miss you. She won’t even think of you. But, Zoe’s little flame would not be stamped out so easily. How do you know that? Britt thought. How do you know she won’t miss you? The memory of Zoe’s good little face spurred her on, despite the threatening tide of cynicism in her heart.

  After what seemed like an hour of inching along, nearly paralyzed by the cold, she managed to get far enough from the tree to touch the ground when she lowered her numbed foot into the snow. Now she grabbed the tree branch that Kevin had thrown her, and used it like a walking stick, jamming it into the snow ahead of her and trudging up toward the trail, her lungs burning in her chest. Finally, when she felt as if her legs could push her no farther, she groped out and felt the slick, hard surface of the groomed trail down which Kevin and Caroline had disappeared. Oh, thank you God, Britt thought. Thank you.

  With one last, massive effort, Britt crawled onto the trail like it was the deck of a ship in the midst of the ocean and collapsed, hugging the ground. After a few minutes she dragged herself up into a sitting position, and folded her arms over her waist. She bent down over them, embracing herself, and tears came to her eyes. She rocked for a moment, enjoying the blessed warmth of her forearms over her stomach. I’m going to live, she thought, and realized that she had never, until that very moment, really appreciated the simple fact of being alive.