Blame

by Jeff Abbott

The mechanical noise got louder, and louder.

  There was no answer to his kick. He was gagged and he began to kick hard at the trunk’s lid, trying to scream past the gag. Please, he thought. Please. The trunk’s release cord was gone, cut or removed. He writhed in the space, panic bolting through his bones.

  Sweat broke out on his forehead. He could feel the jerk of movement; the car sliding forward. He tried to pivot, trying to kick open the access port to the car’s backseat. It had been sealed, reinforced somehow, and then the terror set in deep because he heard the metal grinding and he realized that the compactor that reduced the cars to scrap was here.

  He raged, he fought, he thought of everything he wished he’d done in his life, in a rush, as the fear blinded him.

  He would be crushed to death.

  The trunk opened. Hands pulled him up and out and dragged him along the ground. He heard the smashing grind of the car being crushed, felt his bladder loosen.

  “You listen to me,” a voice whispered. It was gritty, lowered, a harsh, camouflaged rasp. He was sick with terror and he froze.

  “I just did you a favor. You do me one. You are going to get out of town for a while. You will go straight to the airport or bus terminal and you will get the hell out of Austin. Do not go home. Do not pack a bag. You have your parents, go see them for a week. Maybe two. Nod once if you understand.”

  He could hear the death grind of the car being flattened. He nodded.

  “Good. And you’ll get a phone call at your parents’ house when it’s fine for you to come home. I know where your parents live, Randy. If you tell anyone about this, I will know, and I’ll flip a coin and one of them will die. Heads your mom, tails your dad. I will kill one of them because you can’t keep your big fat mouth shut. Do you understand me?”

  He was too terrified to move.

  “Nod if you understand me, Randy,” the voice said with infinite patience.

  He nodded for all he was worth.

  “All right. You have a nice trip.”

  He felt a knife cut through his bonds. He stayed still.

  “You count to three hundred. If you get up before that, a friend of mine who’s keeping an eye on you will shoot you in the head. Enjoy your visit with your folks. I know how much you love them.”

  Randy Franklin counted to three hundred, slowly, carefully, as if it was the most important task he would ever fulfill. He then pulled free of his bonds and took the cloth sack off his head. He lay next to his car. His keys lay on his chest.

  He got into his car and aimed it, east, toward the imminent dawn, Austin in his rearview mirror.

  26

  AT LEAST ONCE a week since the separation Cal drove over to his old house and jogged the three-mile circuit through their neighborhood that he had run nearly every day since they moved to Graymalkin Circle. At first Perri was sure it was an excuse for him to see her—as arrogant as that sounded, you got to think such things when your spouse didn’t want the divorce—but then she realized he just liked the route. He didn’t even try to talk to her, unless he needed to borrow the restroom after his run. Sometimes she would wait for him, with ice water or iced coffee, just to say hi, and then she’d wonder again exactly what she thought she would gain out of no longer being married to him.

  She didn’t wonder that this morning.

  He parked and she waited to see if he would start his stretches, or if he’d go over to the Norton house for a word with Jane. He started stretching.

  Perri came out of the front door and hurried toward him.

  “What is going on with you and Jane Norton?” she asked. “I saw your carpool last night.”

  “Let’s talk inside,” he said. They walked back into the house and he shut the door. He explained running into Jane, their talk in the rain, and their visit with Brenda Hobson.

  It had moved beyond taunts and videos. “Why would someone burn down this woman’s house?”

  He watched her. “Someone who blames her for our son’s death.”

  The silence grew thick. “What, me?” Perri finally said. “Are you crazy, you know me, you know I would never—”

  “I didn’t think you’d ever hit and drag someone, even Jane, but I saw the video.”

  “Cal. Cal. Come on. You know me.”

  “And I saw the new posting. What were you doing when David died, Perri?”

  “I was here. Waiting for him to get home. Here. Trying to find him after Kamala called and said he’d taken off with Jane and they weren’t studying.”

  “You didn’t go anywhere?”

  “No. That post is a lie. I felt guilty I wasn’t out looking for him. I know I said that to people. But this person is trying to make it sound like I was a horrible mother or somehow to blame.”

  “So what does Liv Danger know that she threatens to say?”

  “It’s all a lie.” Her voice broke. “This is some horrible person hiding behind a name our son created!” Her voice rose in a scream. “And you would believe a liar who hides behind a name, a perversion of something David made, rather than me.”

  It was like she opened a crack in the world. The anger, the fury between them that had been smothered in politeness.

  “You’re divorcing me because we lost our son,” he said. The words tumbled from him as if penned inside for a long time. “That’s the only reason. Nothing else. Because you hurt so much you can’t bear to love anyone. Well, I hurt, too. But I’m not angry at the world because he died. You said you wanted a divorce. I didn’t want it, but I said fine, whatever makes you happy. As if giving you whatever you wanted would make you happy again.

  “But you’ll never be happy again. Because the grief has burned you down, Perri, and I can’t do this anymore. I loved you. I loved you so much. And now I just…now I’m the one that wants the divorce.” He said it, almost in triumph. “How does that sound? I want it right now. And you can blame Laurel and Jane or the world, but…” His voice trailed off. “I’m not going to tell you how to feel. You tell yourself that.” He went to the door.

  “Cal, wait.” His words had rocked her; he had never spoken that way before to her. “Listen. The original postings from Liv Danger came from my computer. I had Maggie, a friend at work, trace it. But I swear, it’s not me. If it was, I wouldn’t tell you this. Someone hacked me or got into the house. Help me. Please, help me. I swear to you, on David’s life, it’s not me.”

  She could see the words leash his fury for a moment. “Then who is it? It’s not me. Who would want to frame you?”

  “Jane. Or Laurel,” she said. “You know they hate me.”

  “You hate them. You hate them like nothing I’ve ever seen. You know, it’s weird how you think that everyone else changed after David died but you didn’t.”

  The words were like a blow. “Cal.”

  “I mean, video doesn’t lie. You attacked her.”

  “She was at David’s grave.”

  “Her being there is understandable to everyone but you. She started to leave when she saw you there, didn’t she?”

  After a moment Perri nodded.

  “And you pulled her from the car and dragged her over to the grave that you were so desperate she not visit.” He shook his head.

  I will not cry, Perri thought. I will not. I will not. The tears, unshed, felt hot as flame.

  “You have to help me, Cal, find out who this Liv Danger is,” she said. “Liv Danger was a cartoon character Jane and David created. I found a sketchbook with all their notes. It was hidden in his room. He never showed it to me.”

  Cal studied her face as if looking for proof of a lie. “He never showed it to me, either,” he said.

  “So. Liv Danger knew it was in his room. Then it has to be Jane. She’s trying to make me look bad. It’s revenge. She wants to blame me for all her problems the way she thinks I blamed her for David’s death.”

  “The way she thinks. You do blame her for David’s death. You do. You always have. Have you ever talked to her? Really t
alked to her since the accident?”

  “No. I don’t need to talk to her. It wasn’t an accident. She tried to kill herself and she killed David.”

  “That note was old.”

  “That doesn’t matter. She wrote it.” She made her words into a counterpunch, she saw the spittle fly from her lips. “She had been thinking about it.” This was a certainty, and she refused to let it go.

  “That girl is the same girl who’s lived next door to us for years. We know her. She doesn’t even have a car. Now you think she went down to San Antonio and burned down a bunch of houses to make a point?”

  “Maybe she did. She has friends, they could have helped her.”

  “With arson?”

  “Well, are you accusing me? Why would I do this?”

  “Do you think she knew you were going to be at the cemetery and that the driver would happen to record you freaking out? She’s not making you look bad, you’re doing that yourself.”

  “I can’t believe you are taking her side. How did Liv Danger even get that video?”

  “The rideshare driver posted it on her own page and tagged Jane, so it appeared on her page. Liv Danger has to be watching her page. And other people started to share it.”

  “It proves that it’s her. Or Laurel.”

  “No, it doesn’t. I am not taking a side,” he said with infuriating calmness. “Maybe it is Laurel. She’s an obsessive. But I don’t think it’s Jane. She told me she was starting to get some of her memories back.”

  Perri gave a little gasp and stepped back.

  The doorbell rang, twice, then a fist pounding on the door.

  Cal opened the door. A compactly built man stood there, in black T-shirt and jeans, eyes rimmed red, bristly dark hair shaved close, a rope of tattoos curving up his thick right arm. “You Mr. Hall?”

  “Yes.”

  “My name is Shiloh Rooke.” His voice was low, menacing, yet playful in a way. “I understand you visited my old friend Brenda Hobson after her recent misfortune.”

  “Um, yes.”

  “I’ve had a recent misfortune as well, Mr. Hall, a real bad one. Now, I guess it’s not a coincidence that Brenda and I were the two paramedics who tried to save your boy. I called her when I saw her name in the news this morning and she filled me in on your talk with her.” He strolled in past a shocked Cal, giving Perri a measured look.

  “You can’t just come in here…”

  “I tried to save your son’s life, you could show a little gratitude,” he said. “Be friendly and all.”

  “What do you want?” Perri said.

  “I want to know who came after me and Brenda. Was it you? You mad we couldn’t save your boy?”

  “It’s not us,” Perri said. “I swear.”

  “Did someone burn down your house, Mr. Rooke?” Cal asked calmly.

  “No. They came after my fiancée.”

  “How?” Cal asked. Perri found herself dreading the answer.

  Shiloh’s face flushed with anger. “They broke into my house, stole some things she didn’t know about, and sent them to her.” He took a step toward Cal. “Now, Brenda wanted nothing more than her house, a fresh start, and I wanted nothing more than Mimi, and someone’s taking her away from me. This Liv Danger. I looked on your Faceplace pages after Brenda told me. You and this Jane Norton, there’s a lot of hatred there. I don’t appreciate it spilling over onto me.”

  “We have nothing to do with this.”

  “Bull. You blame that girl. Maybe you blame me and Brenda, too. That it? We didn’t do enough to save your kid?” He glanced at Perri, gave her a measured look. “That your problem, sugar? You want some kind of sick revenge?”

  “Please leave,” Cal said.

  “Last chance. Confess to doing it and I’m not going to go to the cops. I’m sure they’d love to talk to you about Brenda’s house.” He glanced around the entry hall, the nice painting on the wall, the sculpture on the marble-topped antique counter, the fine furniture in the living room.

  “We don’t know anything about you or Brenda’s arson,” Cal said. “Now, get out of here.”

  “Fine, don’t be helpful.” His gaze went between them, lingering on Perri. “Weird, though, that you and Jane Norton came together to see Brenda, isn’t it? Sorry to have bothered you.” He turned and walked back out the open door. Cal shut the door and locked it. Perri went to the window.

  “He’s walking to the Nortons’ house,” she said.

  Cal opened the door. Perri slammed it. “They’re not our problem.”

  “What has happened to you?” he said, pushing her aside and opening the door. “Do you honestly see Jane or Laurel Norton burning down the house of the woman who helped save Jane’s life? Or taking on that thug? If you target these people, you’d have to learn about them. Do you see Laurel wanting to provoke someone like Shiloh Rooke?”

  “But you see me doing that.” She steadied her voice.

  “I don’t know what you might do right now,” Cal said.

  She followed Cal onto their front steps, her heart pounding at his words.

  But Shiloh Rooke, glancing back and seeing Cal follow him, veered off from the Norton house and got into his car. He started it up and drove away. It was an unexpected retreat.

  Cal turned to Perri. “If you know anything about this, you better tell me, right now.”

  “I don’t.” Some of her shock had been replaced by anger. “The same goes for you.”

  “I don’t know anything.”

  Perri said, “What do we do?” But she was thinking, You know what you have to do. You have to prove it’s Jane or Laurel. And then you have to end it. Not with an arrest and a trial that could go wrong. End it, forever. That second thought made her tremble.

  Cal said, “I need to talk to the arson investigator in San Antonio and tell them what we know. I promised Ms. Hobson that. And I think we need to find out more about this Shiloh Rooke guy. Will you be OK here alone?”

  “I’m not afraid of him,” Perri said.

  “OK. Have a good day. I’m going for my run now.” And off he went.

  She had to get ready for work. But she had a new purpose: find out how Laurel and Jane could be responsible for what had happened to Shiloh and Brenda Hobson. She could call Randy Franklin, hire him again.

  Or just talk to Jane. She had to come out of the house at some point.

  Maybe there wasn’t a need for a lot of subterfuge. She texted Mike that she had an emergency and would be a bit late to the office. She went and poured two cups of coffee. She went outside and crossed the driveway and, taking a deep breath, rang the doorbell, thinking, Beware of grieving mothers bearing gifts.

  27

  JANE HAD SLEPT in her own bed for the first time in months, and slept late, a combination of exhaustion and the unexpected comfort of being home. Mom had been asleep when she got home from San Antonio. One of the wine bottles was mostly empty. Jane put it in the recycling and went to bed.

  When she woke up, Laurel was gone, a note left at Jane’s bedside:

  You know you are welcome to stay here as long as you need. You can stay here forever. I’ll take care of you.

  Jane showered, dressed in some spare jeans and a favorite black T-shirt still in her closet, and checked her phone: Amari Bowman, the student who had seen them at Happy Taco and passed David’s note to her in class, had left a voice mail for her while she was in the shower. Amari said, I really have nothing to say to you. Don’t call me back.

  Jane thought, We’ll see about that. She ate a quick bowl of cereal, and when she was washing her bowl, the doorbell rang.

  She opened the door to find Perri Hall holding two cups of coffee, and Jane thought, She’ll throw one in my face.

  “I would like to talk to you,” Perri said. “Calmly.”

  “No slapping, no hair pulling? The coffee is not poisoned?” She kept her voice steady.

  “No,” Perri said. “If I said I was sorry, you wouldn’t believe me. So I’ll
say I was deeply upset by what had been done to my son’s grave, and I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  “That’s actually fair. Your husband was very fair to me last night.”

  Perri waited. You want to be accepted, forgiven. I hope I can sell you on this. “Might we talk? About what’s going on? Please?”

  “Come in.” Jane held the door wider and Perri came inside.

  “Is Laurel here?”

  “She is not,” Jane said.

  Maybe Laurel was spending her time and resources playing the Liv Danger role, Perri thought. Burning down houses and upsetting thugs.

  They went to the kitchen table, just off the entrance to Laurel’s home office. Perri set down the cups of coffee. Jane picked up one. “Hazelnut, not arsenic?”

  Perri ignored the comment. “I’ve seen the postings on Faceplace from this Liv Danger,” Perri said. She had to be careful. She needed Jane to make a slipup, so she could not be threatening. “That must have been very upsetting for you.”

  “She seems to be blaming you.”

  Hence, it’s you or your mom, Perri thought. “So. Who do you think this is?”

  “Someone who hates me. Or you. Or both of us.”

  “You understand that Brenda Hobson wasn’t the only target. The other paramedic was targeted, too.” Briefly Perri explained about Shiloh Rooke.

  “Brenda told me he’s dangerous.”

  “I would say that was fair. After accusing us, he headed toward your house, but Cal followed him and he got into his car instead. He might still bother you. Or your mother. I thought you should know.”

  “Thanks.” It felt strange having this conversation. Because this was a war against Jane, too, and she could think of only one person willing to wage it: Perri.

  Perri took a deep breath. “If this is just someone who hates you, then why involve innocent people? These people were only doing their jobs.”

  “‘All will pay.’ Someone is mad at the people involved in the crash. All of them.”

  “And you think it’s me?”

  “I don’t know. I wouldn’t have thought you capable of it, but the accident changed everything for all of us.” Jane took another sip of the coffee.