“Perhaps that Australian bitch has turned you on to some weird stuff,” Naomi growled, her mouth close to Cadie’s left ear. Her left hand began roaming down the outside of Cadie’s thigh. “Well, don’t you worry. I can match anything that whore did to you. I can make you feel better than she ever could.”
“Naomi, let go of me,” Cadie urged one more time. “Please. I don’t want to hurt you.”
The senator laughed harshly and pressed Cadie hard up against the edge of the counter. It was the last straw for the blonde. She grabbed the closest coffee mug and swung it back over her shoulder, slamming it into Naomi’s nose and forehead.
“Aaarghh!” Naomi reeled backwards, letting go of Cadie long enough to cover her face with her hands. “God damn you! Jesus!”
Cadie swung around and stepped out of arm’s reach of the politician. “I asked you to let go of me, Naomi,” she said grimly, watching a dribble of blood drip through her ex-partner’s fingers. “You lost the right to touch me like that a long time ago.”
“Fuck you,” Naomi snarled. “I lost the right as soon as you started creaming for that criminal.”
Cadie’s temper, already frayed by being manhandled, bubbled past its boiling point.
“No!” she shouted. “You lost that right a long time before that. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for months. You lost that right when you stopped treating me like a partner and started treating me like a secretary. You lost that right when you started abusing drugs and alcohol.”
With every word and increase in her anger, Cadie stepped forward until she was right up in Naomi’s face.
“You lost that right when you started screwing every bimbo that would bat her eyes at you. I’m nothing but a good-luck charm to you. Don’t you …” She jabbed Naomi in the chest with an angry finger. “… DARE … talk to me about the rights and wrongs of our god DAMNED relationship.”
Cadie was so focused on holding Naomi’s attention, she didn’t see the blow coming. The back of the senator’s hand caught her across the cheek, hard enough to leave a stinging red mark. Hard enough to send Cadie tumbling to the kitchen floor.
Naomi laughed coldly and shook out her hand as she watched Cadie pick herself up off the floor.
“You’re never going to convince me that Jo Madison isn’t the cause of all this trouble, Arcadia,” she said bluntly. “So why don’t you just stop making excuses for the fact that you just can’t control your slutty little disposition?”
Cadie pulled herself up using the kitchen counter. I can’t believe I didn’t see that coming, her stunned mind admonished. I can’t believe I’m still here, putting up with this shit. Well, no more. That’s it. Victim impersonation now over. She turned to face Naomi, who still smirked with self-satisfaction despite the blood oozing from the bridge of her nose.
Cadie walked towards the phone extension on the wall and picked up the receiver, quickly dialing 911.
“I should have done this a long time ago.”
Jo slid her carry-on bag into the overhead bin and closed the lid with a quiet click. She glanced around the business-class cabin at her fellow passengers. Not surprisingly, the 747 was packed to the rafters and she congratulated herself again for deciding to spend the extra money on an upgrade. Being packed into coach would not be my idea of fun right now.
She was in dire need of some sleep. After spending the rest of the night watching Vincent do his thing, Jo had cabbed it back to the hotel to pack, check out and undergo a quick change of clothes. The deadly vision in black had been replaced by a typical tourist, dressed in t-shirt, jeans and sneakers. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail and Jo looked a long way from the intimidating presence she had been in Vincent’s dingy living room.
Jo eased her long frame into the seat, giving a polite nod to the man next to her. People were still boarding the plane, forming a long and somewhat disgruntled queue down the aisle as flight attendants moved around trying to get everyone seated. Jo was content to let the masses do their thing before she tried to get herself organized for the leg to Los Angeles.
You can always tell the ones who’ve never been on an international flight before, Jo mused, as she watched the faces of the boarding passengers. They always look so stunned to see the amount of room they have to live in for the next 14 hours. She stifled a grin and lifted her feet up onto the bulkhead in front of her. It was worth putting up with having the movie screen three feet away to get that little bit of extra leg room.
She let her head rest back and she closed her eyes, letting the last few hours catch up with her. She had money, false documents that had so far made getting on the plane a piece of cake, and tickets all the way through to Chicago. All she had to do now was survive Customs and Immigration in LA, avoid any law enforcement entanglements and she would soon be wherever Cadie was.
Hopefully in time to help, she thought as a yawn blocked out all other considerations. Hopefully…
Maybe I should have had Vincent make me up a fake US passport while he was at it, Jo thought ruefully as she watched the queue of American citizens moving steadily forward. Nah, I’d never get away with the accent.
The line she was in, packed with non-Americans, crawled forward another foot as it snaked through a series of roped-off twists and turns that led to three Customs and Immigration officers.
Half as many officers for twice as many non-citizens, she noted. Why does this not surprise me? Ahhh, the privileges of citizenship. She smiled wryly to herself as tensions continued to climb around her. Grumbling in three languages – what a waste of energy.
Jo preferred to keep herself quiet and self-contained, knowing that the biggest test of her false documents was about to start. In fact, has already started, she realized as she looked around, noting the extra Customs officers standing around the periphery of the crowd, just watching the passengers. And probably won’t stop till we’re out of the arrivals hall at least. Just stay cool, Madison.
Finally she found herself standing in front of a Customs officer, handing over her passport and smiling at the man’s weary greeting.
“G’day,” she said.
The man flicked through the pages of the passport until he found what he was looking for – the departure and visa waiver stamps that told him Jo was a legitimate visitor. Like I’d be standing here waiting for him to catch me if I didn’t have those things.
“What’s the purpose of your visit to the US, Miss, er, Markson?” the officer asked, flicking his eyes from her picture in the front of the little book up to her face.
Jo shrugged. “I’ve got friends in Chicago. M’just paying them a visit,” she answered casually. “Haven’t seen them in a couple of years.”
“How long will you be staying?”
“About three weeks – just under,” Jo replied.
He turned to his computer screen and studied it for several seconds before he typed in a few characters. He tucked Jo’s immigration cards back into the passport and handed them back to her.
“Thanks. Have a good day,” he said, his thoughts already turned towards the next person in the queue.
“Thanks. You too,” Jo murmured as she took the passport from him and picked her bag up. She moved out into the main corridor and turned right, following the signs to the baggage claim and yet another long line of people.
One down, seven thousand to go.
Chapter Twelve
Cadie felt something cold and hard press against the back of her neck. At the same time, a hand reached over her shoulder and hung up the phone.
“You’re not going to do that,” came the low snarl by her ear.
Cadie swallowed. There was no mistaking the feel of the gun’s muzzle at the base of her skull. She could smell its metallic tang. Nerveless fingers allowed Naomi to take the phone away and replace it on its rocker.
“You can’t be serious, Naomi,” Cadie muttered, her mouth dry.
“About hurting you? Probably not,” Naomi agreed. “But then you can never be sure
, can you?”
“Not anymore, no,” Cadie replied. Stupid, Cadie, real stupid. Turning down her father’s offer to come with her was looking more and more rash as the minutes ticked by. Then again, maybe she’s just nuts enough to have pulled a gun on both of us. Naomi yanked her backwards and pushed Cadie back down the hallway and into the lounge.
“Sit down,” Naomi said harshly, shoving Cadie down into one of the big leather armchairs, before she returned to the chair in which the blonde had first found her.
“So, now what?” Cadie watched as Naomi rested the gun across her lap. The senator rubbed her eyes roughly with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around the pistol’s grip and trigger. “You’ve lost your mind, you know that, right?”
“Shut up!” Naomi shouted. Cadie could see a fine beading of sweat on the older woman’s upper lip. “Just shut up and give me a chance to think.”
She doesn’t have the faintest clue what she’s doing, Cadie realized. She thought it would be all over by now – that I’d’ve agreed to come back to her by now. It seemed ludicrous to Cadie that a sane adult could even think that was a possibility. I’ve had enough of this. With a decisive movement, Cadie pushed herself up out of the chair and strode across the room towards her ex-partner.
“Give me the gun, Naomi,” she said softly as she approached with her hand outstretched. Immediately the barrel swung towards her and she stopped dead in her tracks.
“Get away from me,” Naomi said, her voice breaking on the last word. “Just get back.”
“You’re not going to shoot me,” Cadie said, her tone calm, confident and firm. She didn’t move any closer, however, all too aware of the muzzle of the gun as it trembled in Naomi’s shaking hand. “You didn’t come here with any intention of shooting me, Naomi. Let’s just put the gun away and talk some more.”
“There isn’t any more to say,” came the response. Naomi’s eyes were wild, flicking from side to side. “You’ve made it clear that there isn’t anything that will change your mind. So just sit down and shut UP! Let me THINK!”
Cadie ignored the thundering request and instead, stepped forward again. She refused to let herself believe that Naomi would pull the trigger. Instead the politician surprised her once again, swinging the gun barrel around and pressing it against her own temple.
“Stop, Cadie,” Naomi whispered as she stared at her former lover. “Just stop, or I swear, I will do it.”
Cadie sucked a breath in so sharply she felt her ribs twinge. “Come on, Naomi. Don’t do this.”
“Sit… down…”
Cadie backed up slowly, her hands raised in a supplicating gesture. She stopped only when she felt the chair against the back of her knees and she sat down. “Okay, okay.”
Naomi pressed the muzzle harder against her temple and Cadie could see the metal edges leaving an imprint in on her skin. Cadie winced, suddenly at a loss as to what to do. This was a side of Naomi she had never seen before, and while her instincts told her it was just another bluff, a nagging doubt pounded away in the back of her brain.
I can’t risk that she’s not bluffing. As many times as Cadie had wished Naomi out of her life over the past few months, she didn’t want the woman dead. She didn’t even want the woman hurt, if she could avoid it. And if she is going to hurt herself, I really don’t want to watch it happen. Cadie took in the wild-eyed woman in front of her seeing the first signs of despair, rather than anger in the older woman’s gestures and expressions. Somehow I get the feeling I’m finally seeing how she really feels about all this. Cadie’s heart sank. It’s going to be a very long day.
Jo walked along the concourse of Terminal C of Chicago’s O’Hare airport. She had never been to the Windy City before, though she had seen her fair share of LA and New York.
Impressive, she thought as she followed the crowd towards the center of the long, high-ceilinged building. Shops and boutiques, food stores and newsstands lined the walkways and Jo shunned the moving pathways, preferring to make her way under her own steam. Her backpack was slung over her right shoulder as she followed the signs towards the baggage claim area.
Jo had changed just before landing in Chicago, happy to shrug off the t-shirt she had worn for the past 24 hours. She had exchanged it for a long-sleeved cotton shirt that could’ve used an iron, but she was just grateful to be in something clean. Her stomach growled as she strode along the concourse and she contemplated the various cuisines on offer. She stopped outside a McDonald’s, smiling wryly at the all too familiar menu and atmosphere.
The faces and accents may be different, but the junk food remains the same, she thought, hesitating about joining the hungry masses queued up in front of the cash registers. She glanced down at her watch and tried to reconcile the time of day with the fatigue gnawing at the edges of her consciousness. Screw it. I can eat later, she decided, turning again and rejoining the flow of commuters hurrying for the escalators. I just want to get to Cadie.
Two minutes later she was leaning on the rail of a moving sidewalk, gazing up at the tendrils of twisted, colored neon lights that spanned across the ceiling of the long tunnel between the two terminals. Tinkling music followed the pattern of lights and provided a backdrop to the automated warning messages that piped up as she approached the end of each stretch of moving walkway. It was weirdly soothing, in a tacky, flashy kind of way.
Any other time I’d find this pretty, Jo contemplated as she waited to reach the end of the long tunnel. Right now it’s just flat-out bizarre. She shook her head abruptly, trying to make the creeping sense of disorientation she felt disappear. It didn’t work but she didn’t have a chance to think twice about it before she needed to pick up her carry-on bag and step off the walkway.
Another climb up a long, steep escalator and Jo was confronted by another busy concourse… and a dinosaur skeleton. It caught her flat-footed and for several seconds she just stood, staring.
“I’ve been through some bizarre wormhole and ended up in the British Museum by mistake,” she muttered. “This week is just getting weirder and weirder, I swear.” She turned and followed the signs to the baggage claim area and waited patiently by the carousel. She cast her eyes about, taking in the security staff dotted about the large room. Jo had enough experience to know that she couldn’t relax yet. Not till I’m out of this airport. It occurred to her that she might not be heading into fair weather, even beyond the limits of the airport precinct. A flash of concern for Cadie knotted her guts. Worry about that when you get there, Madison.
Her leather bag appeared from the bowels of wherever the luggage was processed and she quickly hooked it, hefting it clear of the others. She gave the rental car booths a quick glance, but dismissed them without too much thought, reasoning that it was a lot less hassle to just find herself a cab.
Easier said than done, she thought as she caught sight of the long line-up waiting at the taxi stand. “Damn it.”
A red-capped Skycap appeared at her elbow. “Anything I can help you with, ma’am? Maybe carry your bags for you?”
Jo looked at him, noting that he was barely old enough to shave, if he was a day. But he obviously knew what he was doing, as he had spotted her hesitation and had decided she was an easy mark.
“Can you find me a cab I don’t have to line up for?” she asked, raising a dark eyebrow as he broke into the cheekiest of grins.
“I can probably go one better than that,” he said confidently, reaching for a cell phone clipped to his hip. “Just give me a minute?”
Jo nodded, aware that she was probably about to be fleeced, but also willing to spend a little more if it meant getting out of the crowds and on the road towards Cadie. The Skycap stepped away from her by a few yards and spoke quietly into the phone. Jo watched as he negotiated with whoever was on the other end of the line and she chuckled quietly to herself. Private enterprise at work. Finally he finished and walked back towards her, a smile plastered across his face.
“Follow me, ma’am,” he said, beck
oning her in the direction of a side door. He picked up her bags, and Jo decided to humor him, a quick look at the taxi stand telling her there was very little progress being made there.
They stepped outside into what was a brilliantly clear and crisp Chicago morning. Jo breathed deeply, happy to be out of air-conditioning for the first time in days. Her young escort put her bags on the curb and stepped out into the roadway, looking left and right. Jo took a moment to take in her surroundings.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Geoff,” the Skycap replied cheerily. “And this …” He indicated an approaching minivan. “Is Maurice.” He waved the vehicle into the curb. The driver in question – an older black man who smiled politely – alighted and picked up her bags, taking them to the rear of the van. “He’ll take you anywhere in the city for a pre-arranged flat fee.”
Maurice returned, rubbing his hands together against the cool morning air. “Where can I take you, ma’am?”
Jo reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out the crumpled piece of paper upon which she had scribbled Cadie’s address. She showed it to the driver and he smiled in recognition.
“No problem. I can take you straight there for $30.”
Jo looked at Skycap Geoff and he shrugged, grinning broadly.
“I swear you won’t do better in a cab, ma’am,” he said winningly. “Maurice knows all the shortcuts.”
Jo snorted skeptically but knew he was probably right. “And I’m sure you won’t do too badly out of the deal either,” she said wryly, handing the young man a five-dollar bill. He took the money and tipped his cap to her.
“Have a wonderful stay in Chicago, ma’am,” he said, before turning on his heel and whistling his way back inside the terminal.
Jo turned to her new escort and shrugged at him. “Lead on, Maurice,” she murmured before she climbed into the back of the minivan.
“That’s the place, ma’am,” Maurice said as they approached the impressively big home at the top of the steeply inclined driveway. The driver glanced over his shoulder at the tall and brooding Australian in the seat behind him.
No Ocean Deep Page 38
