Ken Roach laughed. “He looks about as threatening as someone’s grandmother, doesn’t he, Tat?”
He’s trying to make nice, Abby thought. He doesn’t want to upset Tattoo again. “You got enough gas to get us to the mall when Dog gets back?” he asked her. “It’ll take a lot longer for the cops to find the car if we leave it in the lot.”
“No. Look at the gauge yourself. It’s almost on empty.”
He did. “Yeah, okay. But let me clear something up for you just in case you’re planning anything — like trying to get a message to the gas attendant or anything else stupid. We know who your sister is, and we know she lives in Langston. And thanks to little sister, we even know her old man’s name is Pete. Peter. So mess up and she’ll pay the price. You can be sure she won’t die easy. Maybe we’ll just tie up old Pete and let him watch the show. Then I’ll let old Tattoo go to work on the boys.”
A peel of bone-chilling laughter issued from the back seat, turning Abby’s blood to ice-water. But thicker somehow, slowing its path through her veins. It was hard to breathe. What does Ken Roach want from me? Is he planning on keeping me with him until the bank account is empty? Surely someone at her bank will get suspicious before that happens. “I bank online,” she said, not quite sure why she did, except that it was electronic and away from Karen.
It’s not just me now. I can’t let them get to Karen. I have to warn her somehow.
Chapter 19
“I’m not sure going on that radio show was the best idea in the world, honey,” Pete said. “I don’t like the idea of you putting yourself out there. But you did great. Like you’ve been on radio forever. An old pro. I’m just sorry Abby didn’t phone in while you were there.”
“Oh, I really didn’t think she would, Pete.”
“No?” They were sitting in a Starbucks and Karen was staring into her coffee. Pete had picked her up at the station and this particular Starbucks happened to be in the same block. She looked pale and drained from the stress of doing the show along with general worry about Abby, and right now on the edge of tears as she looked up at him.
“She’s a really private person, you know that. She wouldn’t call the radio station. But I was hoping she’d call me on my cell as soon as the show was over. But she hasn’t. That’s why I know something’s happened to her.”
“Karen, you ...’
“Oh, I realize she doesn’t have a cellphone. But there are pay phones she could have used. And the only reason she wouldn’t is because she can’t get to one.”
The place was packed. Dishes rattled, conversation was noisy. “Like I started to say, you’re jumping to conclusions.”
“Then why doesn’t she call me?”
“Maybe she didn’t have the radio on? Didn’t hear the show?”
“She always has the radio on when she’s in the car. And she has it on in the background when she’s writing. White noise, she calls it.”
The phone rang. Karen grabbed it off the table before it had a chance to ring twice. Pete saw the hope fade from her eyes as she spoke to whoever was on the line.
“A reporter from the local paper,” she said, after ending the call. A Randy McDougall wanted an interview. Karen had agreed, telling Pete the more publicity they could get, the better. In the meantime she had every intention of driving to Loon Lake. She wanted to see the cabin. “If Abby was there — if it really was her and Corey’s secret hideaway — I’ll know.”
Pete didn’t argue. He already knew she wouldn’t be satisfied until she checked out the cabin herself. Though he did make the point that the cops had probably bagged everything they’d come across that was even vaguely suspicious. After those brutal murders, they’d have warrants to seize anything in those cabins they wanted to.
Karen listened but her mind was made up. “I need you with me on this, Pete,” she told him. “But I’ll go alone if I have to.”
“You won’t have to. But you knew that.”
“Yeah.” She gave him a thin smile and took another sip of her coffee.
By the time Randy McDougall left the house with his recorded interview and a photo of Abby, as well as one of Karen and Pete, they were on their way to Loon Lake, armed with a colored map Pete had printed off the internet, and new hope that they would find Abby. And she would be alive.
Chapter 20
Donnie Leaman slipped away from the Honda, becoming part of the oncoming night. Resentment seethed in his heart. He didn’t mind stealing a car or even running Ken Roach’s errands, but he thought they shouldn’t disrespect him like they did. Abby was right about that. Wasn’t no reason to put him down, especially Ken, who was supposed to be his friend. He knew now he’d only let him tag along because Donnie knew how to hotwire a car and didn’t mind being a goffer. Tattoo knew how to hotwire a car too but Roach said he stood out too much. And now he was sending Donnie away. Where would he go? Maybe Ken was just teasing him or else he wanted Tattoo to think he wasn’t the only one being sent away so he wouldn’t get mad again. For a minute there in the car, Donnie was scared Tattoo might be going to choke Ken to death. What would Donnie, do then? And what about Abby? She would be in even bigger danger. He couldn’t blame Ken for wanting to get rid of Tattoo.
Donnie was still surprised to find himself on the outside, able to breathe in the fresh air and look up at the sky. He always felt so small when he looked up in the sky. It was hard to believe that if he closed his eyes and opened them again, he wouldn’t find himself back in prison, back in his cell with the steel bars, smelling the awful smells, clamping is hands over his ears to block out the ugly noise, which you never really could.
Escaping had been easy, though he could never have done it on his own. He owed Ken Roach a debt. He remembered watching him at the far end of the yard, working away on the fence with a pair of cutters he got from the workshop where he worked every day. He was so slick about it, no one paid him any attention. Almost as good as Donnie was at shoplifting. He had a book he pretended to be reading if anyone happened to look in his direction. He’d been at it for a month, cutting the wire a little at a time, making an L - shape, then closing the flap up again so it wouldn’t be noticed by the guards or the other prisoners. There were plenty of snitches in there. Ken would have ended up in the hole if he’d been found out. But no one ever caught him. Except Tattoo. And he didn’t tell. He wanted to go with him. Ken had no choice but to let him.
That next morning, when the guard’s back was turned, they went through the opening in the fence and fled into the woods. That same night they broke into a Sally Anne’s thrift shop, changed into civilian clothes and tossed their prison garb in a garbage bin outside. Then they hopped a train and headed east. At least that’s where Ken said they were headed. Donnie didn’t know east from west. Anyway, here they were. Still running. But on the outside. Free. He didn’t really feel free, though.
Donnie figured that as soon as Roach had whatever money he wanted from Abby he’d give her to Tattoo, even if he didn’t really want to. Tattoo wanted revenge for what she did to his eye. He would torture her first, do horrible things to her like he did those other girls. It made Donnie want to be sick thinking of it. Donnie would have liked to help people, be of some use to the world. He had always thought he might be a doctor someday. At one of the foster homes he lived in, the man of the house was a doctor— a heart surgeon. The doctor didn’t have much to do with Donnie, leaving him to his wife instead, a pretty blond woman who spent most of the day pouring herself vodkas. But she was nice to him and Donnie had liked her. He also had liked looking at the pictures of the handsome doctor hanging on the wall. In them, he was wearing his white coat and smiling like he knew he was important. Donnie didn’t last long in that placement, but he remembered how the atmosphere changed the instant the doctor came into the house. The power that radiated from him.
How cool it would be to be able to breathe life back into people. Donnie had tried to do that with the couple at the farmhouse, but it didn’t work.
He didn’t tell that to Ken Roach or Tattoo. They would just have laughed at him.
He strode on up the street, glancing at parked cars as he went, checking for keys left in the ignition.
It wasn’t likely he would ever be a doctor, though. No, not now. But he did know that the first law in medicine was ‘First Do no harm’. Those words were on a plaque hanging on a wall in the doctor’s house. Thinking of that now sent a feeling of unease over him. A feeling of something bad coming.
Abby had had hard times in her life what with her husband and little girl getting killed by that truck. It wasn’t right for someone to kill her too. She only hurt Tattoo’s eye because she was trying to get away from him. But Tattoo was in a lot of pain lately with his eye, so maybe he wouldn’t care so much about getting his revenge. Maybe he was hurting too much. Donnie wanted to believe that, but he didn’t — not really. Tattoo’s hatred and craziness would be stronger than any pain. Which reminded him that he had to find a drugstore and get the medicine for his bad eye. He wished it would be poison. But you probably couldn’t buy that off the shelf. Anyway, he didn’t think he could really kill another person outright. Then he thought again of Abby being in danger, and wondered if he might be wrong about that.
~*~
“I need some medicine for an infected eye,” he told the pharmacist behind the counter. Donnie had to look up at him because the pharmacy itself was elevated from the main floor. He was a slightly built man with thinning silvery hair, and he wore a white coat like doctors wear, and bifocals. A silver pen was clipped to his breast pocket.
“Do you have a prescription?” he asked.
“No.”
“Take off those sunglasses, son, and let’s have a look.” He lowered his bifocals on his nose, the better to see Donnie’s eye.
“But it’s not...”
“Take ‘em off. Don’t be shy.”
Donnie removed his sunglasses. Donnie was accustomed to obeying orders. The camera mounted high up on the wall captured his face full on.
“It’s not for me,” he stammered. “It — it’s for my — brother. He didn’t feel well enough to come in here himself.”
“Oh, I see. But if the infection is making him ill he should see a doctor. He should anyway. He could go blind. Or the infection might spread to his brain. It can happen. The eyes are nothing to fool with.”
“Oh... I don’t think it’s that bad. If I could just have...”
“Your decision. Or his. What happened to his eye anyway?”
“Fell on a stick.” The words just popped out of him because he knew that that actually happened to a kid at one of the foster homes he was sent to. A small blond boy. He and some other kids were playing tag. He could still hear his screams. Donnie had been standing in the yard when the ambulance came for him. The boy must have gone somewhere else when he got out of the hospital because Donnie never saw him again.
“That’s too bad. I just normally figured it was you had the problem,” the pharmacist said. “Not too many people wear sunglasses after the sun goes down.”
Donnie felt his face get hot. “It was lighter out when I left the — uh — house.” He fumbled the glasses back onto his face.
The man nodded. “Anyway, sounds pretty serious.” He came down the few steps and out into the main store. After surveying the array of over-the-counter aids on the shelves, he chose several items. “I’ll throw in some Boric Acid eyewash and cotton pads, as well. Tell him he should bathe that eye two to three times a day. If it doesn’t improve in a couple of days, I’d advise your brother not to waste any more time and get himself to a doctor.”
Donnie said he’d tell him.
~*~
When he left the drugstore clutching his trove of medicinals for a man he feared more than felt sorry for, he was sweating and feeling as naked as if he were under a spotlight.
He shouldn’t have taken the glasses off. He would bet their faces were plastered all over the TV by now. Did the druggist recognize him? He didn’t think so. He would have said something. Wouldn’t he? Maybe not. Maybe he called the cops the minute I left his store.
After another twenty minutes or so of strolling down half-lighted streets, (every second waiting for that blat of a police siren ) he considered and rejected half a dozen cars. Then he stopped cold, seeing a tan Dodge parked at the curb in front of a rundown apartment building. It was the only car he’d seen with the keys still in the ignition. It was also idling. So whoever owned it would likely be right back.
Donnie wasted no time jumping into the driver’s seat. It had been just a matter of good timing and his had been right on. Donnie wasn’t used to having good luck like that. Maybe things were turning around for him.
As he was driving away, he glanced in his rear view mirror and saw a young man in a baseball cap bounding down his front steps. Reaching the bottom one, he froze and stared at the empty space where his car had been, confusion on his face.
Donnie made a quick left down a narrow side street and the car’s owner disappeared from view. He felt kind of sorry for the guy, but glad for himself. Ken Roach would be pleased.
The car was old but seemed to be in good working order. Nice smooth ride. Something told him he was forgetting something, but he couldn’t remember what it was. No, he had everything. Tattoo’s medicine. The car. There was a brown Teddy bear bobbing in the back window. He’d noticed it when he got in. He checked the dash. No air-conditioning. Damn. Ken wouldn’t like that. Well, you can’t have everything. He could open the windows. The gas tank was three-quarters full. That was good. A black cell-phone that he hadn’t seen until that second, sat on the passenger seat beside him. He didn’t know whether it was the right kind of phone, but definitely a plus. The owner’s telephone number was taped on the back.
He stopped at a junkyard and switched license plates.
Twenty minutes later, he pulled up behind the Honda still parked on the short street, lights out, as if no one was in it. He got out of the car.
“You done good, Dog— Donnie,” Ken Roach said with a grin when Donnie slid into the back seat beside Tattoo. Donnie warmed with pleasure at his words of praise.
Ken Roach proceeded to outline his latest plan. They would abandon the Honda in the mall parking lot, then drive to a motel and he and Abby would rent a double room as husband and wife. “Nice you’ve got a suitcase in the trunk,” he smiled at Abby. “Makes us look more legit. Okay, let’s transfer the stuff into the Dodge’s trunk. The quicker we lose this heap the better. When the time comes, I’ll check us in,” he said to Abby. “You just be the nice, quiet little wife and keep your head down.”
“What about us?” Tattoo said.
“Don’t worry. Wouldn’t forget about you, Tat.” Abby heard mockery in his voice, but Tattoo was too thick to pick up on it. “After we’re checked in, you two wait an hour then knock on the door and I’ll let you in.”
“How will we know what room?”
“I’ll phone. You got a phone now. I took down the number, it’s taped on the back. Dear Abby will help you with your meds, Tat, since you’re not seeing too well.” He sniggered at his own lame ‘Dear Abby’ joke, a variation on one Abby had heard a hundred times before. “She can bathe that eye for you, too. Only fair, considering she’s the one that did the damage, eh, Tat?”
The Neanderthal gave a grunt of approval from the back seat. The sound set up a throbbing in her jaw. A memory pain.
“But don’t try any tricks, Roach. You ain’t goin’ nowhere without me and Dog. Don’t think you’re gonna screw me over. We’re all in this together.”
He doesn’t want to be left on his own, Ken Roach thought. Something new for Tattoo. It was definitely the eye. He was probably going to lose it. “Sure. Absolutely,” he said. For now, he thought. But he planned to be rid of these two clowns first chance he got. Then life would be good to Ken Roach. Finally.
What’s Roach planning? Abby wondered. Surely not to go into Langston to her bank. He must know
the tellers at her bank would recognize her, not to mention that she still had the bruises. A few might even have tuned in to that talk show, and heard Karen essentially putting out a missing person’s bulletin. Although some of them might think like that woman who called in; that this was just some kind of stunt to sell more books. She wished they were right.
Something else had been nagging at her. How did Ken Roach know about Karen’s boys?
In her rear view mirror, she could see Donnie following in the stolen car. She kept an eye out for a cop she might somehow signal, knowing that even if she did spot one, she would do nothing. If things didn’t turn out in her favor, the Roach would carry out his threat and hurt Karen and her family. It was a risk she couldn’t take. It was a moot point anyway. She saw no police car.
In an old episode of the Oprah show, she remembered a policeman warning viewers, (if any of them happened to be so unlucky as to be abducted,) against letting your abductor move you to a second location. A little late remembering, since she’d already broken that particular rule a few times. Not that it would have mattered.
At the Roach’s insistence, Tattoo stayed well down in the back seat, out of sight. There was nothing about her to alert anyone driving by that she was a woman in distress. No one even glanced their way. Abby’s mind was travelling a mile a minute, but always coming back to the same place. She could do nothing to get herself out of this fix. Not yet anyway.
As they entered the mall parking lot, Ken Roach directed her to drive to the far end of the building. From this location, she could see the railroad tracks that ran straight through Langston and on to the U.S.
They sat in semi-darkness, parked near a pole light which was either broken or burned out.
The Deepest Dark Page 10
