Crimson Eve (27 page)
“Do you see a black Durango?” Carla’s words squeezed out.
Leslie checked the side and rearview mirrors. “No.”
Carla pulled in a shuddering breath, brought both hands to her face. “I’m so scared.”
Questions crowded Leslie’s head. Where even to start? “This Thornby. Where did he come from?”
Carla’s voice came muffled through her fingers. “He posed as a client. Said he wanted to buy the Edna San estate. I met him there. He pulled a gun on me.”
Whoa.
Leslie threw her a glance. “How’d you get
away
?”
“I pepper-sprayed him. Got him good too. He turned into a slobbering idiot.”
“Oh.”
How
terrifying.
But the description was so Carla. Leslie couldn’t help but giggle.
Carla gave her a shocked look, then managed a raw laugh. “Well, he was. You should have seen him.”
“I believe you.”
They fell silent. Carla’s head swiveled as she checked out her window, then peered into her visor mirror to check behind them.
“Carla, are you praying about all this?” The question popped from Leslie’s mouth, surprising her. Definitely not something she’d have asked before last March.
Carla focused on her lap. “God and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms.”
Oh.
“Well, maybe you should be.”
A shrug. “I’m in so deep now, Leslie, even God couldn’t get me out.”
The excuse sounded familiar. “He may not whisk you out of the situation, but He’ll help you through it. It’s like . . . like stumbling around in a dark room. You’d turn on the light, right? You’d still be in the room, but at least you could see where you’re going.”
No response.
Their exit approached. Leslie veered off and turned right. Up four blocks, another right —and they pulled into Katy’s driveway at the end of a cul-de-sac. “Stay here for a minute, okay?” Leslie slid out of the car, walked around to the right rear of the house, and pulled the hidden key from beneath a loose brick at the edge of the small patio. She unlocked the back door that led into the kitchen. Once the door was open,
Leslie replaced the key, then walked through the kitchen, down the hallway, and into the garage. She hit the button for the door. As it slid up, she ducked out and got back into the car to drive it inside.
“We made it.” Carla sounded as if she couldn’t quite believe it.
Leslie laid a hand on her arm. “Yeah, we made it. You’re gonna be okay, Carla. At least . . . you’re not alone anymore.”
She took the food bag and coffee into the kitchen. “Now we can microwave this for you.” Leslie held up the biggie cup. “You go into the living room, put your foot up on the couch. I’ll bring the food to you. And I want to ice that ankle.”
Carla did as she was told. Fifteen minutes later, ice in a zipped plastic bag against her ankle, the latte mostly finished, Carla lay propped against pillows on a couch by the front living room window, staring toward the entryway. Face pale. Waiting. Tension crackled from her very stillness. As if she knew Tanya’s information would change her life forever.
“Aren’t you going to eat your sandwich?” Leslie asked.
“I can’t. Not now.”
At Carla’s insistence, Leslie walked through the house’s rooms. Katy’s place had an open floor plan, its small tiled entry area separated from the living room on its right by a four-foot-long, waist-high wall. On the left side of the entryway, as one entered through the front door, was a coat closet. Straight off the living room lay the kitchen, the two areas divided by a long eating counter lined with four stools on the kitchen side. A left turn from the entryway led to three bedrooms —a master suite on the rear of the house, and two smaller rooms, sharing a bath between them, on the front. Beyond the two smaller bedrooms was the door leading to the garage.
All looked well and safe. Katy kept a neat house.
Leslie checked and rechecked that every window and door was locked. All curtains in the living room and o
n the entire front of the house —including the two bedrooms and bath —were drawn. As she walked around, she prayed for Carla. For Tanya. For all that would take place here.
God, let Carla somehow
see the clear truth of You, not the muddiness her own choices have
made You to be
.
The sun was setting. After clearing away Carla’s coffee cup —the roast beef sandwich remained untouched —Leslie turned on the porch lamp, then lights in every room of the house. When night fell, there would be no darkness here.
At 6:25, they heard a car pulling up to the curb out front. An engine cut, the slam of a door. Leslie sidled around the couch to the front window and edged back a drape.
A woman hurried up the sidewalk toward the porch, clutching a purse, fear and relief hunching her shoulders, dread cross-stitching her face.
Leslie turned to Carla. “She’s here.”
Carla nodded, then started to shake.
Tony’s cell rang at six-fifteen. Paul Jilke was on his way from the airport and needed directions.
It would take every bit of willpower Tony possessed not to choke him on sight.
Ten minutes later Jilke turned into the Mexican restaurant parking lot, driving a white Ford Explorer. Tony slipped out of his Taurus and climbed into Jilke’s car.
“Well, there’s the mighty hunter.” Jilke’s sarcasm screeched like nails on a chalkboard.
“Where’s my wife and son?”
“Oh, they’re fine, fine.” Jilke waved a hand. “Being watched over. And fed. You do your job here, Tony, and they’ll be none the worse for wear.”
Tony’s blood boiled. Kidnapped, held against their will — and
none the worse for wear
? He thrust his heels against the SUV’s floor, jaw tightening.
Jilke shifted in his seat.
Ah, so ever-in-control Paul Jilke was
finally nervous.
Tony felt a righ teous satisfaction at that. Those two women must be one powerful threat.
“Tanya Evans hasn’t been found yet.” Jilke knocked a knuckle against the steering wheel. “We’re following her credit card. She uses it, we’re on her. Meantime” — he pointed toward the dealership — “this guy’s our man. I feel it in my bones.”
“Yeah? What if your bones are wrong and the kid just goes home? All the hours you had me sitting here will be one royal waste.”
Jilke glared at him. “He knows something, count on it. Wherever the guy takes us, we follow. After I get through with him, he’ll tell us everything he knows. And some things he doesn’t.”
They waited. Watched car salesmen come in and out of the showroom, meeting people who wandered onto the lot. Blond Boy appeared and greeted an older couple. Soon he was leading them from car to car. A blue sedan seemed to interest them in particular. Eventually the three of them moved into the showroom.
Minutes stretched on, people coming and going into the Mexican restaurant. Jilke said little to him, and that was just fine by Tony. Any more of his arrogance and Tony just might have to shove his teeth down his throat. Jilke’s phone rang numerous times, his “men” checking in. Apparently they had no information on Tanya Evans. With each call, Jilke’s anger grew. By the time Blond Boy got off work — whenever that was — Jilke would be downright toxic.
At 7:45 Blond Boy walked out of the showroom with the couple, shook their hands. The woman got into the car in which they’d arrived. The man headed for the new blue Chrysler sedan, a bounce in his step. Tony and Jilke watched him drive it off the lot and down Sprague.
“One for our side,” Jilke sneered.
Tony said nothing. High and mighty Jilke thought he knew so much. About desk jobs, maybe. But how often had he done his own dirty work on the streets? In fact, the sale
was
one for their side. A deal at the end of the day would make the kid happy. Help him forget the afternoon’s unfortunate occurrence. On the way home he’d be a little more relaxed, a little less cautious. Thinking his rotten day had turned out decently after all.
Too bad for him. His rotten day had only begun.
Carla used her iced ankle as an excuse not to get up to greet Tanya. Truth was, she doubted her legs would hold.
Tanya hurried over the threshold as she and Leslie exchanged quick greetings. Leslie closed the door and bolted it. Then leaned against it, hands cupped, looking from Tanya to Carla as if not sure her presence would now be wanted.
Gazing over the half wall, Tanya drank in the sight of Carla as if she’d waited for this meeting for years. Her breathing came fast and fluttery. She dragged fingers through her hair, mouth open, but no words coming. Carla wouldn’t have recognized her. The nurse she remembered was young and golden-haired, a little chunky, with a compassionate, round face. This woman looked thin and worn, her jawline sharp. Deep crow’s feet at her eyes and trenched smile lines made her look older than her —what — fifty years?
Carla couldn’t speak. One hand gripped the couch cushion, the other hugging the part of her where Rebecca had once grown.
I can’t do this, I can’t do this!
As if her world hadn’t been ruined years ago, then turned upside down again yesterday. This woman would now break it in two. Carla knew —
knew
— what Tanya would tell her. And she could not bear to hear it.
“Carla.” Tanya breathed her name, already making her way around the low wall and into the living room. She crossed halfway, then stopped.
“Hi.” Carla felt like she was wrapped in gauze. This couldn’t be real. Maybe she was dreaming this. Maybe she’d dreamed the entire last twenty-four hours.
Tanya angled toward an armchair by the half wall and perched upon it. Leslie pushed away from the door. “Can I get you some water, Tanya?”
“Yes. Thank you.” Tanya’s gaze did not leave Carla’s face.
Leslie moved into the kitchen and opened a cabinet. Picked up a glass.
Carla pulled in a breath, crossed her arms. “You’ve driven a long way. I imagine you need to use the bathroom.”
“Yes. Actually I do.”
“It’s down the hall.” Leslie leaned over the long counter and pointed. “Second door on your left.”
“Thank you.”
Tanya headed down the hall. Carla watched Leslie put ice in the glass, fill it with water. She brought it into the living room and placed it on a small table by the chair. Then looked to Carla, biting her cheek. “What do you want me to do? Stay with you? Go into another room?”
Carla focused on the burgundy-colored carpet at Leslie’s feet. The scene felt so surreal. Where was the earthquake? The crack in the heavens? Sixteen years of hiding her terrible, soul-wrenching secret — and it all came down to this. A revelation in some stranger’s living room.
Leslie’s feet blurred. Carla blinked hard, then raised her eyes. Before this night was over, the guilt would kill her. If she’d made different choices, her daughter would be alive today. “You sure you’re ready for this, Leslie? Because it isn’t pretty.” Carla’s voice was thick.
Leslie nodded.
“Okay, then, you asked for it. The story of my life in a nutshell.” She took a deep breath. “When I was sixteen, I
clerked for Bryson Hanley. He seduced me into having an affair. I got pregnant. The baby died at birth.”
Leslie’s jaw loosened, then dropped. Her eyes rounded. She pulled back her head, gave it a small shake of disbelief.
“Tanya was the nurse in the delivery room.” Carla saw Tanya appear in the hall, stop at the entryway tile. Her eyes were bright. She had been crying. How good of her. She should be crying
rivers
of tears. “The nurse who was so kind to my face. Who I
trusted
.”
Carla pushed herself up on one elbow. Her gaze locked with Tanya’s, even as she continued to talk to Leslie. Her throat squeezed until words could hardly pass. “The doctor told Tanya the father was Bryson Hanley. Senator Hanley, who feared he had so very much to lose, even then, by the birth of that baby.
My
baby.”
Carla’s gaze shifted to Leslie’s wide-eyed face. “Now she’s here to make a ‘confession.’ At the same time someone connected to Bryson Hanley is trying to kill me.” Sickness rose in Carla’s stomach. “Now tell me, reporter Leslie, the gal with the nose for news — what do you suppose she could possibly have to confess to me? The nurse who helped Dr. Hughes — Hanley’s old friend and confidant — deliver my baby? The
healthy
, perfect baby who
died while I was asleep
.”
Leslie’s face drained of color. Disgust flattened her forehead. Slowly she looked to Tanya.
A cry seeped from Tanya’s throat. She flung herself into the living room, across to the couch, and sank to her knees before Carla.
“No, no, you don’t understand!” Tears fell in fat drops down her face. She brought up both hands, fingers laced in a desperate plea. “And you have to know who Dr. Hughes
was
. He was the chief of staff at the hospital, the head doctor. And like a father to Bryson Hanley. Dr. Hughes ordered everybody
around, and everybody obeyed. The whole hospital ran by his word.
Nobody
questioned him,
ever
. And who was I? A young single mother who
loved
being a nurse. I never wanted to do what he forced me to do, Carla, and I almost didn’t. But I
had no choice
. He won my silence, because Dr. Hughes
always
won.”
Leslie teetered to the armchair and sank into it. Carla couldn’t move. Tanya knelt one foot away, head down, shoulders shaking. Like a penitent. Close enough for Carla to lay a hand on her head and soothe her, as for so many years Carla had longed to be soothed.
No way
. This woman had smiled in Carla’s face — while she
let them kill Rebecca
. And for what? Just because of “who Dr. Hughes was”? Rage and grief knocked through Carla. Well, get this, world. The charade was
over
. Make no mistake — Carla Radling would keep quiet no more. This woman would pay.
Most of all, Bryson Hanley would pay.
Tanya choked off the tears and lifted her head. Grim determination settled over her face. She shifted off her knees and sat on the floor, a strand of hair caught on her wet cheek. “I am
so
sorry
.” She searched Carla’s face. “I’ve carried this for years. The guilt was so strong, I fell into depression. Quit nursing within a year and never went back. I know this is nothing compared to the pain of losing a daughter, nothing at all. But I want you to know it changed my life too.” She inhaled a shuddering breath.
