He dropped his hands and backed away. “Are you okay now?”
Ruth nodded, her body still shaking with residual sobs. She fished a tissue from one of the deep pockets in her skirt and pressed it to her eyes. The reality of what she’d seen began to fade.
“What happened?” Harry’s tone was gentle.
“I was cleaning up a bit, waiting for you, when I found—” Ruth’s voice broke, and she picked up the framing wire. Harry looked puzzled. She swallowed hard, and choked, “I remembered—” before starting to cry again.
Understanding dawned in his eyes and he muttered a curse. He stretched out a hand, then let it fall.
Ruth didn’t want him to see her crying, to blame himself for the memories he’d burned into her soul, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t turn away. Couldn’t do anything but stand there, tears tumbling down her cheeks, her shoulders hunched under the weight of his crimes.
His tear-blurred form shifted from one foot to the other, hands restless at his sides. “Ruth?” She couldn’t answer. The tears came faster. He took two jerky steps forward and circled his arms around her, barely touching her.
He did this to me. Ruth stiffened, then slumped against him. Let him offer comfort. They probably both needed it. She burrowed her face into his shoulder. Harry expelled a long breath, and his arms tightened into a protective shield.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered into her hair.
Slowly Ruth gained control. As soon as she stirred in his arms, Harry let go and stepped back. “You needed someone. I was the only one here.”
She looked at the soaked ball of tissue in her hand, then pulled another one from her pocket. “Thank you.”
He nodded. “When we get to the police station, they’ll find you some help.”
What could help? She’d never be rid of the memories. Was this how she’d be, fine one minute then drowning in his atrocities the next?
Harry studied her face. “You should sit down for a few minutes before we go, maybe have a coffee to recover. If I take you in looking this ragged, they’ll probably shoot me on the spot. If they don’t, your husband will.”
“I want to go home.” If there was healing to be found, it would be in prayer, and in Tony’s arms.
“Okay. There’s one more thing I want to do first.” He raised his hands when she opened her mouth to protest. “It’s quick.”
Chapter 29
Ruth sat in the brightly lit kitchen nursing a mug of tea, trying not to think. The light, the warmth, weren’t enough to push back the shadows in her soul. Harry had insisted she ice her knee a bit more, so one foot stuck out in front of her with the obligatory bag of frozen vegetables. She paid no attention to him passing back and forth behind her.
This trip from the living room, he dropped into the chair opposite hers and slid her Bible across the table. “Look what I found, and none the worse for the wear. Good thing I didn’t see it when I was on the rampage.”
“Thanks. Are you ready?”
“One minute.” He went back outside.
Ruth picked up the little book, her fingernails digging into the soft leather. The pain of Harry’s confession burned in her mind, mocking the idea of healing.
Still holding the Bible, she forced her protesting feet back into her boots, picked up her coat and purse, and cracked open the back door. Harry stood a few paces away, staring into the depths of an overflowing rain barrel, his pose serious.
She knew part of his make-work project was to get their watchers used to seeing movement. He hoped they’d tune out and miss the moment of escape. Ruth had described the webcam feeds she’d seen.
He looked up at her in the doorway and nudged the barrel with his foot. “It may not make sense to you, but I wanted a way to physically demonstrate I was turning away from my past.”
At her nod, he continued. “The gun is down there, and the piece of wire you found. I’ve thrown in our host’s whole library of pornography and added a few other things that symbolized part of my letting go.”
He stared into the water for a minute, then pulled a package of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and tossed it in. It floated lazily on the surface until he picked up a fallen branch and pushed it under. A silent trail of bubbles streamed upward. When they ceased, he turned to Ruth, his face pale.
“I’m finished here. Let’s do this.”
Ruth’s heart leapt. Home.
Harry stepped back into the kitchen. He prowled around as if searching for something. “I can’t find the key.”
“I don’t believe this.” Ruth tugged open the nearest cupboard door and rummaged among the dishes. She hadn’t seen it when she’d been exploring earlier.
Harry smacked his palm against the countertop. “I wrecked the landline, and now I can’t even use the car charger and phone 9-1-1 and let them pick us up. We’ll have to hoof it, even with your bad knee. If I carry you, say down to the shore, maybe the crew that’s babysitting us will think I’m disposing of your body. They might let us go.”
Denny. Ruth pictured the gun at the bottom of the rain barrel. “Is there no way to break into the shed? Can’t you pick the lock or something?”
One hand flashed metal. “I have the shed key right here. But that won’t start the car, and for all my criminal tendencies, I never learned to hot-wire.”
Cheeks burning, Ruth dug into her coat pocket and held out the missing key. “I wanted to take the car when I escaped, but I couldn’t open the padlock.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed, and his lips tightened. He snatched the key and stalked out. Ruth caught up to him as he opened the garage doors. “I’m sorry about the key.”
He pulled her into the shadows, away from the webcams. “No, I’m sorry. I always get edgy before something big. Even if it’s going to prison.”
Ruth’s heart sank. She was so eager to get out of here, she’d forgotten what he’d be feeling. They both knew it was the right thing to do, but that didn’t make it any easier. She held out her Bible. “I want you to have this.”
“It’s yours.”
“I have another one. Please. It’ll remind you someone’s praying for you.”
A light breeze stirred the trees outside. Harry smiled, and closed his fingers around the little book. He wedged it into his back pocket. “Thank you. Now let’s move. If they didn’t see us come out here, they’re bound to notice the open shed doors. They don’t want me going anywhere yet either.”
A late model Honda, compact and efficient, stood waiting. A good choice, Ruth thought. With so many of them on the road, it wouldn’t get a second look. Harry’s remote unlocked it, but before she took her first step a voice spoke from behind.
“Silver, we brought her back to you once, and she’s still walking around. You’re off your script. Do I have to show you how it’s done?”
Ruth froze. Denny. Hearing him brought back the scent of beer and bacon, the feel of violation. In her ear, Harry hissed, “Grab me that shovel. The round one. Remember—you’re scared of me.” He pushed her toward the tools on the shed wall.
Cold washed Ruth from head to toe. Harry sounded like he had a plan, but could he really bluff their way out of this? Clutching the shovel, she turned to see him standing, wide-legged, facing the intruder. Far enough outside that Denny couldn’t slam the doors and lock them in.
“You’re the one who brought her back? I owe you one. But this is a private party.” He glanced at Ruth— “Hurry up with that shovel.” —and back at the intruder. “This one’s going to dig her own grave.”
Denny nodded, posture stiff. “Sure. That’s why she’s got her coat and purse, and why she gave you a little gift just now.”
Harry turned as Ruth approached. He pulled the shovel from her hands. “You can have it back soon enough. I don’t want you taking a swing at me.”
Ruth didn’t look at him. She couldn’t look anywhere but Denny’s gun. What good was a gardening tool against a projectile weapon?
Prodding Ruth ahead of him,
Harry walked around behind the shed. Ruth spun as soon as he stopped. Yes, the young thug had followed. Out of webcam range.
Harry poked the shovel tip into the soft turf but kept his head up, matching Denny’s stance. “Always keep a token, son. Always keep a token. And not that my script is any of your business, but if I bury the evidence your boss won’t have to clean up after me.”
Ruth thought of the mess Harry left in the living room and choked on a giggle. She put a hand to her mouth as if she were about to cry. It wasn’t entirely an act.
“Want to see what I’m keeping from this one?”
Curiosity and contempt chased across Denny’s face. He stepped nearer. “If you’re gonna dig, do it fast, man.”
Harry stood a moment as if sizing him up, then closed the gap between them. “Okay, you checked up on me like a good boy. I’ve got this under control, so how about you scram? You’re ruining the moment.”
Denny’s neck turned pink. His eyes widened. “You should get back inside. What if someone sees you?”
“Nobody comes here, and you know it.”
“We should have killed her when we had the chance. Since you can’t handle her.”
Harry planted himself in front of Ruth, blocking her view. Blocking the gun. “My prize, my way. My time.”
He glanced back at her. “Unless you want to make a run for it and see if the young pup can shoot. Kid, your boss’s boss wants me on that boat tomorrow, alive and well. You’re out of your league with me, and you don’t want to mess with him.”
Denny spat a string of profanity. “You talk big, for a has-been.”
“Says the punk with the gun.”
Ruth trembled in her protector’s shadow. She imagined Denny’s finger on the trigger. At this range, one shot might kill them both. Or Denny might keep her alive... Tears trailed down her cheeks and she pressed a hand to her mouth to silence a whimper. God, please help us. Her whole body tensed for a bullet.
Suddenly Harry jerked his head up. “You were right—someone’s coming! Hide that gun.”
He lunged forward and the shovel connected with a thud. Denny dropped to the ground.
Harry knelt and checked his pulse, then flashed Ruth a strained grin. “Young pup.”
Ruth backed away, staring at Denny’s body sprawled on the grass. She bumped into the wall of the shed and let it hold her up. Her stomach heaved. She gulped air. Let it out slowly. Again.
She wiped her eyes on her coat sleeve, but more tears welled. “You saved my life. Our lives. It worked. Thank you.”
Harry flashed a mock salute. “At your service.” He picked up the shovel and gun and dropped them beside Ruth. “He’s out cold. Watch him, will you, just in case? I’ll get some rope from the shed.”
Ruth let out a shuddering sigh, watching the slow rise and fall of Denny’s ribs. That blow could have killed their attacker. It would have been self-defence, but Harry didn’t need anything else on his conscience.
Harry came back with a coil of rope. “The truck’s parked down the lane. I saw it through the trees. He went for the stealth approach, and blocked us in.”
He rooted in the fallen thug’s pockets, then tied him up. “Found the keys. From the angle of the webcam, I think we can circle through the forest to the truck without being seen. I don’t want them setting up any kind of an interception. How’s your knee? Can you walk that far?”
“I’ll make it.”
“Right. Just let me re-lock the shed so they don’t get suspicious.”
Ruth picked up her purse and coat from where they’d fallen in the grass. When Harry rounded the corner of the shed, she nodded toward Denny. “What about him?”
“He’s coming with us. No loose ends.” Harry checked the gun’s safety catch, then stuck it in his pocket. He hoisted Denny onto his shoulders. “Whew. This dude needs to cut back.”
He swayed, but stabilized under the load. He’d been so weak—was he up to this? Was she, with a throbbing knee?
But they had no choice. Ruth waved her hand. “Lead on.”
~~~
Wearing Denny’s hat, Harry jostled the truck along the rutted driveway and onto the wider dirt lane. He glanced at Ruth hunkered low in the passenger seat. He’d asked her to duck until they passed the second webcam. Hopefully any watchers would assume their cohort had settled things and then headed to town for a break. In truth, the punk lay wedged between the truck’s cramped jump seats, trussed and gagged.
From her description, the cameras had only covered the narrower roads. He let out a breath. “Okay to sit up now. I think we’re good.”
Ruth unfolded in the seat beside him and leaned against the headrest. “I will be so glad to get home.”
Harry slapped the steering wheel. “I forgot the cell charger. It’s still in the car.”
She seemed to deflate a little, but she flashed him a wry smile. “You had a few other things on your mind.”
Trying to look casual, Harry drove slowly, window down. The sunlight on the trees and the clean forest scents mocked him. He’d never get out of prison, never be free, never drive again let alone race.
The trees closed in, and he sped up to elude their shadows. The future weighted him, greying his vision and fermenting his gut.
He had no one but himself to blame for his crimes, and as much as the memories sickened him now, he had to pay.
Only for this lifetime.
A thin shaft of joy pierced his dread. However long or hard his sentence, it had an end. He hadn’t realized he’d feared eternity, but he felt the difference now. At his life’s end no more torment, paradise.
He’d have plenty of time on his hands to prepare for it. More than that, he’d have a relationship with God in this life. He wouldn’t be alone.
The lane brought them to a narrow, paved road. Harry turned back toward Halifax. “I hope I can make it to a police station without being spotted. They might not believe I was going to turn myself in, if they stopped us on the way.”
“I can give you directions when we reach the city.” Ruth’s voice was strained.
The road twisted along the coastline, and the sun sparkled on the water as they drove. Harry let his eyes wander as much as he dared, absorbing the sights of freedom for the last time. He was surprised at the tiny waves lapping the rocky shore. “I always pictured the Atlantic with giant breakers and pounding surf.”
“You should see it after a storm. This kind of day is nice. It’s almost healing. I wish—” She broke off and turned her face to the window.
“You wish what?”
“Nothing.”
Harry let it go. He had no right to pry after messing up her life, and right now he was more concerned with his own issues. Dread grew in him, a chill, dank fog. In his nostrils, the salt sea air changed to the taint of industrial cleaners and defeated men. The smell of prison.
The road intersected a secondary highway. Opposite them, a big green sign pointed to the right for Halifax and left for the towns of Yarmouth and Chester. Harry signalled and began his turn.
“Wait.” Ruth touched his arm. “I’m pretty sure there’s an RCMP station in Chester. That would be closer if you’re worried about being spotted.”
“Thanks.” He clenched the wheel, fighting off sudden panic, then resolutely swung left. Closer was good. Let him get this over with before his nerve broke and he fled.
Think of it as a simple trip to town, one last chance to drive. This road was wider than the last, and the motor whined as he nudged the accelerator. He ached for the throb of a powerful engine at his command.
He tried to turn it into a joke. “I was a champion race driver, until the governing body stripped me of my title. My own car in Toronto was a Jag. So I get out of jail, and what do I get? A family sedan. It wasn’t a bad little car, but I’m glad I didn’t get into a drag race with the police. And now we’re down to a beat-up pickup.”
He caught Ruth’s smile in his peripheral vision. She was twisting her wedding band t
he way she’d done the night he’d abducted her. Her hands stilled. “Harry?”
“Yeah?”
“They’re going to know you belong to Jesus, whether you tell them or not. They’ll hear you gave yourself up, and they’ll see the changes in you. Unless you hide it.”
Harry shook his head. “He forgave me. For everything. I made a commitment, and I intend to keep it.”
“You’ll be tempted,” Ruth’s words came faster. “There’ll be times you’ll let Him down. When you fail, remember the Bible promises when we confess our sins, God will forgive us and cleanse us.
“Read your Bible. Ask God to teach you. Get to know Him—the wonderful, vibrant, majestic God who delights in you. Let Him live in you, and don’t obey Him out of duty. Obey Him out of love. Keep it personal. Don’t distance yourself, or let religion take the place of relationship.”
She giggled, but it had a sad edge. “Your first sermon. Sorry.”
When was the last time someone cared about his welfare, really cared? It did something good inside him, but he didn’t know how to handle ‘heart-warming’. He fixed his eyes on the road. “Thank you.”
He slowed to the reduced speed limit as they entered the community of East Chester. Every approaching car twisted his stomach tighter. He imagined each driver staring at him and reaching for a cell phone.
Perspiration prickled along his spine. To be recognized now... At least let him do what he must do, and not be captured on the way. Let him prove he’d changed.
Bright new homes nestled among the rambling, immaculate older houses that lined the road. Painted wooden signs offered food, crafts, and professional services. Soon a larger sign welcomed them to the historic town of Chester.
His jaw muscle started to spasm. “This is it.”
An enormous cut-out of an ice-cream cone stood to the right under the shade trees. “You hungry?” Harry’s voice felt like a stranger’s. “Even better—a donut shop. A fine place to surrender, even if I don’t see a cop car in the lot.”
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