Blood and Bone

by V. M. Giambanco

  How had their paths crossed? Had she missed something?

  Aaron had said good-bye with a hug and a kiss and he’d wished her a good day, like couples do, and yet Madison could not shake the feeling that now that he knew a bit more of what her day comprised, something in Aaron had recoiled a little. And if so, wasn’t that the normal reaction? In fact, the right reaction?

  Madison picked up her cell.

  “Stanley? It’s Madison. I just wanted to check in.”

  “Everything’s all right here, Alice. All back to normal. Are you all right?”

  “Sure. Yes, of course. I just wanted to make sure that you hadn’t noticed anything odd around your home. No strangers in places they shouldn’t be, no people who looked wrong to you.”

  “No, nothing of the kind.”

  “Good, great. Just call me if anything worries you—anything at all.”

  “Now you’re worrying me. Would you like to come in for a chat?”

  “Thanks, Stanley. I might when I’m done with the case.”

  She had been thinking about the break-in at her therapist’s office since her conversation with Nathan Quinn and John Cameron. The notion that Stanley might have been targeted by the cartel because of her was too hideous to contemplate.

  Madison turned off the lamp on her desk and picked up her coat—Brown had left five minutes earlier and everyone else was long gone. The job prospects are what they are but, man, at least the hours are great.

  Kate Duncan rolled down her window and peeked. She was not familiar with the Bremerton Ferry Terminal holding lanes and wanted to make sure that she was getting into the right one.

  She had spent the day with Matthew’s cousins and his brother, Casey, who was staying with them, and she was exhausted. It had been a necessary day, a day of emotions and memories and hugs from relatives who could not begin to grasp her pain and her distress. Nevertheless, it had been a guilty relief to be away from Annie. This short hour on the ferry—a stolen time between the homes of people who wanted nothing but the opportunity to help her and support her—was a balm.

  Nobody truly understood what she was going through. And seeing Casey was like seeing Matthew alive again, hearing Matthew’s voice. Her heart beat like a rabbit’s caught in a snare. The blood, so much blood.

  Madison let herself in and turned on the lights. She toed off her boots and padded to the kitchen holding a paper bag of groceries she had bought in less than ten minutes during her twenty-minute lunch break while Brown did whatever it was that Brown needed to do.

  Dinner would not win any Michelin stars, but eggs were her go-to comfort food and that’s what was on the menu tonight. She poured herself some milk from the carton, fresh out of the bag, and reached for her frying pan. Her cell started vibrating and the number on the small display was unknown. Was it Quinn again from another disposable device?

  “Madison,” she said picking up.

  Nobody spoke. A thrumming vibration filled the open line.

  “Hello?”

  It was like metal clashing against metal. A deep grinding that held no human sound.

  “Hello?”

  Madison held the cell phone to her ear for a moment and then terminated the call. Clearly the connection had not worked properly and whoever had called would call again if they had anything to say.

  She grabbed the butter out of the fridge and sliced off a portion, which slid into the pan over the low flame. She dug into the bag for the carton of eggs and took three out. She was about to break the first on the edge of the pan when her cell started vibrating again.

  “Madison,” she said.

  The shuddering sound was even louder now.

  “Hello?” Madison repeated, trying to raise her voice against the noise.

  “Help me . . .” the voice was less than a whisper. A woman? A child?

  “Who is this?”

  “Help me, please . . .”

  Madison automatically reached for the stove and turned off the gas under the pan—the butter had begun to melt and even the soft sizzle was louder than the voice on the line.

  “Who is this?” she repeated.

  A sudden flash told her who it was before the woman spoke again and a spike of adrenaline pierced Madison in the chest.

  “It’s Kate Duncan. The man has come back. He followed me. Oh God, help me. Help me, please.”

  “Kate, where are you? What’s going on?”

  A beat with nothing on the line but the deep, low pulse. Madison closed her eyes as if it might help her to hear better, to reach through and pluck the woman out of wherever the hell she was.

  “I’m on a ferry.”

  “Which one? Where from?”

  Madison sprinted to the living room and booted up her laptop. A quick scan around the room told her where her landline telephone was and she grabbed the receiver.

  “I’m on the Bremerton–Seattle ferry. It left Bremerton five minutes ago. He’s here. He followed me.”

  Madison thought fast. “I’m going to ask you some questions now, Kate, just say yes or no.”

  Another beat of deafening engine noise.

  “Can you see him from where you are?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you on the car deck?”

  “Yes.”

  Madison tried to remember what the ferries on that line looked like.

  “Can you get up onto the passenger decks?” Madison wanted her to get to a member of the crew as soon as possible.

  A pause.

  What was she doing? Madison closed her eyes. If she remembered well some of the ferries on that line had two car decks and two passenger decks. They could carry about 150 cars or so and at least 2,000 travelers. How many people was the ferry carrying now? How many cars were parked between Kate and the man?

  “Kate . . .” Madison said. “Kate . . .”

  “I can’t,” came back a whisper. “I can’t get up to the passenger decks, he would see me. He’s walking between the cars. He’s looking for me . . .”

  The voice fell away.

  Shit. Madison held her cell to her ear and with the other hand she dialed the US Coast Guard. She stuck the receiver between her chin and her shoulder and typed in the web address on her laptop. It went to the Washington State Ferries Vessel Watch: the ferry Kate Duncan was on was a tiny green triangle traveling toward Seattle and still well outside the city limits.

  Damn. Harbor Patrol would be her next call.

  “Kate . . . Kate, can you hear me?”

  If she couldn’t get up to the passenger deck and the crew, Madison had to get her to a safe place. Her car. Get her back into her car. Lock the doors and windows and sound the horn like doomsday is coming.

  “Kate, can you get back to your car?”

  How could she call the ferry directly? How could she get someone to help her? Madison wanted to pace, but she was rooted to the spot—one telephone in each hand now—watching the tiny green triangle crawling across the screen.

  “I don’t know. I can’t see him.”

  Madison had seen the Duncans’ car: a heavy-duty SUV that probably had not seen a day of off-road driving but looked solid enough to delay the stalker for a few minutes—long enough to attract somebody’s attention. Madison’s mind was leaping ahead and trying to find patterns and meanings. What the hell is he doing? Why is he going after Kate Duncan? Is he armed? Does he have a firearm that will shoot through glass?

  “Kate, talk to me, what’s going on?”

  The engine of the MV Kaleetan rumbled in the background—in a splinter of thought it seemed quaint to Madison that she could see all the details of the ferry online, including where it was and its speed in knots, and yet she was not able to do one darn thing about this.

  Suddenly a voice from the US Coast Guard was on the line. Madison identified herself with her unit and badge number. She spoke quickly and clearly. They must contact the ferry, they must send someone, they must not leave her alone to deal with a maniac.

&nbs
p; “Kate, what’s going on?”

  “He’s walking between the cars, up and down the deck.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m . . . I’m in a corner, behind a pickup truck.”

  Kate Duncan sounded terrified; her breath rushed out in great shudders. And she must be cold too, Madison realized—it would be freezing on the car deck, the harsh wind blowing hard from the water. Her body temperature would be dropping, her thinking might become sluggish, her reactions slower, her muscles cramped as she crouched. Keep her talking, keep her thinking. He will not hear her above the din.

  “What does he look like?”

  “Tall, dark clothes, hooded top. He’s the man from the gardens. I’m sure he is.”

  Madison exhaled. In that instant she really hoped that Kate Duncan was wrong, that this was just a guy, that the imagination and the fear and the shock of the last week had been too much and that she was seeing monsters where there were none.

  “Kate, is he armed? Is he carrying any weapon that you can see?”

  The green triangle inched forward on the screen. The water was calm and the vessel would be cutting through it, a slender white crest in the inky black. It was the same water Madison could see outside her French doors. In the distance, the ferry would be a small bundle of lights slowly sidling closer to Elliott Bay.

  “I don’t know. I can’t see him.”

  Madison’s priority was still to get her to a safe place.

  “Where’s your car, Kate?”

  “It’s a couple of rows away from me.”

  Madison wondered if the woman had activated the car alarm when she left it. She probably had. Would it be worth the risk of the alarm beeps? Would he hear them and turn?

  “Where is he?”

  Madison heard the woman’s breath catching. “He’s at the other end of the deck.”

  “Can you make a dash for the stairs?”

  “I . . . I . . .”

  “Can you dash for the stairs right now and get up to the crew?”

  Madison couldn’t see them. She could not see how far away he was, or how far the metal door to the passenger stairs was from Kate Duncan. Nevertheless, she had traveled dozens of times on that ferry and her memories of it were clear: the tall, cavernous space with all the cars, trucks, and pickups tightly packed next to each other in rows. And a man stalking one end with Kate Duncan stealing a look through the window of the vehicle she was hiding behind.

  Madison felt stuck. She couldn’t really give Kate any instructions if she couldn’t see what was going on. Maybe the safest place for the woman was to stay exactly where she was, maybe moving her anyplace else was too big a risk. And, sweet Jesus, that engine noise washed over everything and made it hard to even think straight. Where was the Coast Guard? Where the hell was the Coast Guard?

  Madison pressed her ear to the receiver and she realized that she had been cut off by the Coast Guard—whatever else they were doing they were not wasting time speaking to her. She dialed 911 again—this time for Seattle Harbor Patrol—while one half of her listened out for Kate Duncan, for any changes in the solid clatter from the car deck of the Kaleetan. What would happen if the woman made a run for it and he caught her?

  “Kate,” Madison whispered. “I’m here. I’ve called the Coast Guard. Just hang in there, okay?”

  There was a muffled whimper at the other end of the line—or perhaps Madison had only imagined it. Harbor Patrol came on and Madison went through the same question-and-answer routine. And on the computer screen the green triangle sailed ever closer to Seattle.

  A fleeting thought popped into her head and vanished: Why had the man cornered her on that ferry? A place where anyone could walk in on them at any time, where he couldn’t control the circumstances of the pursuit.

  Harbor Patrol came back to her and confirmed they would contact the ferry. Madison left them all her numbers and they hung up. She wanted to get into her car and drive straight to the harbor. But she was afraid to move—afraid that, between the noise from the car deck and the rattle of her own car engine, Kate Duncan’s voice would be lost when she needed Madison the most.

  There was a subtle change in the pitch of the vibration. Footsteps clanged on metal.

  Madison held her breath. Let her get away. Let her get away. Let her get away. She didn’t want to think about how tiny and slight Kate Duncan was, how easy it would be for someone to take her, bundle her in the trunk of a car, and simply drive away. And what next? What next?

  The sounds had definitely changed. She’s running. She’s making a run for it. A rustle of clothes close to the telephone microphone, the swish of a coat, a thud, and a soft cry. Madison leaned on the table with her eyes closed and her left hand clamped tightly over her mouth. Something thumped and she didn’t know whether it was inside or outside her. More rustling, more steps, more thuds.

  Madison felt sick, suspended in darkness, hanging on to every scrap of sound.

  The bang was so loud that it knocked her off her chair.

  Madison was on her feet, back in her living room, eyes wide, not daring to speak.

  “I’m in the restroom. I’ve locked myself in the restroom.” Kate Duncan’s voice came in gasps. “I don’t know if he saw me. I just ran . . . I just ran for it . . .”

  Madison let out her breath. “Make sure it’s locked all the way, Kate, make sure it’s engaged.”

  Madison heard hands scrabbling at something, pushing, shoving hard.

  “It is. It’s locked.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m in the restroom off the main cabin.”

  “The Coast Guard and Harbor Patrol are on their way. They’re on their way, you hear?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s not going to come after you in the main cabin.” Madison wanted very badly to believe that. “Just hang on for a little while longer. Okay?”

  “Yes.”

  Keep her talking. She can’t go to pieces now. Keep her thinking. “Good, you’re doing great. Talk to me, Kate. What do you see? Is it a single restroom?”

  “It’s a restroom with sinks and three cubicles on one side. I’ve locked the main door.”

  Madison wondered what kind of lock a public restroom would have on the inside and whether it would hold. Her landline phone rang and Madison nearly dropped it. It was the Coast Guard.

  Madison drove like an arrow through the night. Drizzle hit the windshield and blurred the rest of the world, but for Madison there was only the road. She had to get to the pier before the ferry docked. The Kaleetan had left Bremerton at 9:05 p.m. and the crossing time was sixty minutes. If she absolutely floored it she would get to Pier 52 in time to meet the people coming off, in time to seek him out.

  The Coast Guard had warned the ferry captain and they had called Madison when the car deck proved to be deserted. Madison had given them Kate Duncan’s location and they had managed to coax her out of the locked restroom—it had been a woman from the crew who finally got her to unlock the door as their own key had been temporarily misplaced. Kate Duncan was spending the rest of the journey in the captain’s cabin, wrapped in a blanket, hands trembling as she held a vending machine hot chocolate that the female crew member had insisted she drink.

  Madison had called Brown and he was on his way too. The SWAT team had been alerted and was ready to engage. And utterly unaware of what was happening on the various decks, the travelers on board the Kaleetan were having a pleasant and uneventful journey, marred only by the closure of the galley and the inconvenience of using the vending machine in its place.

  Brown had called Lieutenant Fynn and a welcome party for the ferry had been organized. It would delay the return crossing, but it couldn’t be helped. The crew of the ferry was not equipped or trained to deal with the stalker, and there was nowhere for him to go unless he fancied a dip into the icy waters of Puget Sound.

  Madison drove on.

  They were about to meet him. They were about to look into his eyes
.

  Pier 52 was unusually crowded for a Monday night at 10:05 p.m. The operation had to be executed carefully to make sure it would work, because Kate Duncan could only be in one place at a time. They needed to get the car plates of every single vehicle on the Kaleetan while making sure that Kate could observe the foot traffic on the off chance the stalker had not driven on board. Then again, if he hadn’t driven, how had he followed her? And how had he known she would be on that ferry—that she was coming back from Bremerton?

  Madison adjusted the Glock in her shoulder holster. She stood—edgy and restless—next to Brown, waiting for the gangway doors to open and let them on board. Tall, dark clothes, hooded top. As a description it was on the scant side, but at least they had their witness. Brown—in his suit and raincoat—was somber and impossibly neat for the end of such a long day. He looked ready for war, for a subtle war that had to happen without anyone noticing.

  The passengers had been told that they needed to stay where they were for a few minutes while a security procedure was implemented. Nothing to worry about, just a short delay and then they would be on their way.

  The doors opened and Kate Duncan was suddenly in front of them, flanked by crew members in their yellow high-visibility jackets. Her skin was translucent and black mascara streaks had been hastily wiped from under her eyes. She saw Madison and walked to her with her arms open like a child. Madison hugged her tight. It felt like holding a bundle of twigs.

  “Kate, you were brilliant,” she said. “Can you do this? Can you do this one last thing?”

  Kate Duncan looked around. The hall was swarming with police officers in uniform; a dozen had already stepped on board to look through the travelers. The same numbers—though she could not see them—were scouring the car decks.

  The woman nodded and they stood to one side as people started to file through: families with little children carrying sleeping toddlers on their shoulders, single men and single women, commuters, small groups of tourists. Kate Duncan stood slightly behind Brown and Madison and her gaze swept over the curious, the bored, the tired, and the uninterested. So far none of the men looked like possible candidates. The single men were either the wrong body shape or too old or too young. Kate Duncan had only seen one person on the car deck searching for her between the parked cars. Their stalker had not come with friends.