Final Approach (19 page)

Four telephones were directly in front of the restroom next to a stainless steel table built into the floor. None were in use.

“Yes.”

“When I hang up, go into the ladies room and leave both of your cell phones in the trashcan in the third stall. I’ll know if you call someone, so don’t blow it. Go to the pay phones and pick up the one that rings.”

“Both of…what’d you say?” How could she
possibly
know about the disposable back-up phone in my bag?

“Both phones. Yours and Kurt’s.”

“I don’t have my phone,” I said. “Jeannie does.”

“Sure, honey. Leave two phones or the deal’s off.”

“Call her if you don’t believe me. The number’s—”

“I have the number.” She hung up.

Unsure what to do, I stayed in my seat. Six minutes later Trish called back.

“Your friend’s a trash talker.” She paused. “Go to the restroom like I said and leave Kurt’s phone in the third stall.”

The line went silent, and for a moment I felt paralyzed even though I was already hustling. In the restroom, several stalls, including the third, were occupied. When it was vacant, I went inside, chucked the phone into the trash, and backtracked toward the pay phones. I waited nearby until the phone nearest the table rang.

“Stand by,” Trish said. “I’m waiting to hear about the phone.”

“I did what you said.”

She didn’t answer.

I watched the ladies room only a few paces away. A mother came out with a little girl in red cowboy boots, towing a miniature bag on wheels. Two women in saris and scarves emerged. A middle-aged woman came out backward, pulling an elderly woman in her wheelchair. Who among them was checking the trash for Kurt’s phone?

“Good,” Trish said finally. “An envelope is taped to the bottom of the table next to you.”

I crouched and looked up at its base. “Got it.”

“There’s another car key.”

I opened the envelope as she spoke.

“This one’s a silver Volvo. Take the inter-terminal train to Terminal A and go to its garage. The parking spot’s marked on the keychain.”

I turned the key over.

“There’s also a set of directions. That’s where we’ll make the exchange.”

I closed my eyes. It was really going to happen.

“Finally,” she said, “You’re being watched at the airport. And after you leave, you should know there’s a transponder on the car. No pit stops. Otherwise, deal’s off.”

Chapter Thirty-seven

I didn’t dare stop driving. I imagined Trish at our meeting place, watching a circular blip, my car, creep across a computer screen. Beside her, maybe Casey was chewing on a teething toy or pulling himself up on furniture. I wondered if she’d feed him or change him if he cried.

Annette would be terrified, and I felt responsible. She’d been torn from a second home, and this time she’d remember. How had Trish gotten her, and what had she told her, if anything? The line of thought stopped me. Maybe she’d been taken violently. What if her new parents, like Jack, were murdered during the abduction? I swallowed. Maybe Annette had been bound or blindfolded. Or slapped. I started to cry.

Who had kept her all these years? If she hadn’t grown up with the knowledge of having been adopted, then hearing it from me—a stranger to her by now, I realized—would be confusing and scary. She wouldn’t believe me. More likely, she’d think
I
was a kidnapper.

Railroad tracks were ahead, beyond a flashing yellow light. Sixty-five minutes had passed since I’d left the airport, and I’d been off the highway for twenty, long enough for the sun to drop to the horizon in my rearview mirror. I turned on my headlights and flipped open the disposable phone Jeannie had given me. Dividing my attention between the road and the display, I sent a quick text message to update her on my location. It would have been easier to just call, but if Trish really did have a transponder on the car, I worried she might also have it bugged. Jeannie would get my message to Richard and the authorities
if
my phone had any juice left.

The uncertainty left too much to chance. I texted Richard too.

Except for the tracks, the only sign of civilization was a leaning barbed-wire fence separating me from empty, overgrown fields. I passed an ancient wooden barn that had toppled sideways next to a sun-bleached old pick-up, left so long ago its bumpers touched the ground. The road began to morph into something made more of dirt than asphalt. I crossed the railroad tracks and checked my odometer.

A quarter-mile later, the driveway I was looking for disappeared to the right into a forest of pines. My directions said to look for two No Trespassing signs nailed to trees on either side of the drive. They were worn and faded, neglected like everything else—including my common sense, I supposed. But what else could I do?

I eased onto the dirt track. The car bumped when its tires rolled off the road and I let it creep slowly, hearing only the crunch of a thick layer of pine needles. Far ahead, the drive curved, and I couldn’t see where it ended. The forest swallowed most of the remaining light from the disappearing sun.

Red reflectors glinted some distance ahead and realized I was coming up on a vehicle parked at the driveway’s end. When I came around a final patch of trees, I found the car beside a rustic cabin. An elevated porch wrapped around the modest shack, and thick curtains covered its windows. I pulled up beside the other car. The porch light flicked on. Its feeble glow barely extended to the edge of the porch, but I felt like I was under floodlights.

I turned off the engine and took a quick look around. No one was in sight, but several bags of trash had been left beside the porch steps. Beside them, a couple of shovels and a stack of firewood leaned against the porch.

In front of me, a screen door swung open and Trish stepped outside. I was eye-level with her suede boots. I followed her slim figure all the way up, past jeans and a pullover sweater, to a hateful, steady gaze and opened my car door.

The screen door smacked shut behind her and I stepped out of the car into muggy evening air that smelled like damp earth and pines. My shoes sank into the soft ground. Far away, I heard a train whistle.

“Where’s my money?” Trish said.

I leaned into the car and got the pillow from my maternity disguise. When I unzipped it showed her a fistful of cash, she nodded.

“What about the kids?” I could hardly breathe, much less speak. I wondered if Annette was really inside the dumpy little cabin.

Trish pulled the screen door open and held it, never taking her eyes off me. Faint sounds of a television program grew louder and softer as light flashed on the door in various hues.

“No,” I said. “You bring them out here, to me.”

She shrugged and disappeared inside, and the screen door slammed behind her. A moment later, she returned with Casey on her hip. His curls and cheeks were exactly as I remembered from Richard’s pictures. I couldn’t believe she’d kept her word. My eyes went immediately to the doorway behind her, but Annette wasn’t there.

Trish stalked down the front porch steps, the heels of her boots clacking on the wood. Casey looked sleepy, but not mistreated. She thrust him at me. “Here.”

The baby clutched my blouse and laid his head on my shoulder. He turned his face into my collar and began to suck his thumb. Maybe anybody was more comforting than Trish.

She stared at me. “Your little girl’s a brat. Like her bitchy mother.”

I clutched Casey tighter. “Give her to me.”

She tossed her head so her blond hair fell behind her shoulders.

“First, the locker key.” She extended an open palm.

I dug in my pants pocket for the key and dropped it into her hand. “Once the kids are safe, I’ll tell you where to find the rest of the cash.”

She turned and walked up the steps. When she got to the door, she held it open, and called inside. There was no answer.

“Come on!” she called again, and a defiant, “No!” came back.

The voice was small but willful. I darted for the stairs, holding Casey close against my chest, and fought to keep my feet from slipping across the saturated ground. My vision was blurred from tears before I reached the porch.

“No!” I heard again, and Trish stomped inside. When I got to the door, she was suddenly back, first tugging at a delicate wrist, then yanking it hard. A crying little girl appeared from behind the door, pushing and writhing with all her might.

“Let her go!” I shoved Trish with my free hand.

She released her grasp, and Annette stared up at me, wide-eyed. Time had sculpted her to look even more like Jack than I remembered. I dropped to my knees.

“Come here, baby.” And—miracle of miracles—she did. I pulled her close.

Her skin radiated warmth and her clothes were damp with sweat. I ran a hand over her beautiful cheek. Blond bangs stuck to her forehead in a wet cluster. She was shaking. I kissed her.

“We’re leaving,” I told her softly, and hoped she’d find something comforting in me.

Dark, full lashes lined her eyes now. I’d missed all the subtle changes that had transformed her from a baby to a child. She nodded with more maturity than I thought a five-year-old would have, then placed a tiny hand on Casey’s back. She dropped her head and kissed him on his cheek.

I stood and led her down the steps. She had gorgeous, thick pigtails and her hair was the color of straw, like her dad’s.

As we walked from the cabin, she looked over her shoulder. “I don’t like that lady. She’s mean.”

My baby had more courage than I had. I couldn’t look back.

“I don’t like her either, sweetheart.” With a gentle press on her head, I redirected her attention to the car. “Let’s get in.”

I let her silky pigtail slip through my fingers. It was impossible not to stare at her.

“Are you taking me home?” she asked.

I could only stroke her cheek in response.

The woods flared in a sudden pulse of brightness. Headlights.

I’d been so focused on Annette that I hadn’t noticed a car coming from the main road.

I whirled to Trish. “What’s going on?”

The lights grew closer, faster, their beams bounding with each dip in the path.

Trish folded her arms across her chest. “You said you’d keep our deal between us,” she said. “But I know you lied.”

Annette tugged on my hand. “What’s happening?”

The vehicle pulled up behind my car and stopped so suddenly the front end dipped. It was a white, full size van with tinted windows. The driver’s door flung open.

“The car that took me!” Annette’s squeal startled Casey so badly he jumped. I had to use both hands to keep him from falling backward. Annette clutched my leg. I shifted the baby and freed a hand for Annette. She turned her face into my hip.

I recognized the driver; it was Kurt, the man who’d attacked me on the plane the night before. He stepped from the van, pursed his lips in a smug grin, and leaned on the fender.

Trish said, “Tell me the locker location.”

“When the kids are safe,” I insisted. “Not before.”

Annette began to sob.

Trish nodded to Kurt. I followed her gaze, and watched him slide a jacket panel back far enough to reveal a gun. I looked at Trish again.

“Change of plans. Sorry to damper your reunion.”

Her eyes flashed at Kurt. I caught a shared smile.

“Give me the kids,” Kurt said. He motioned for me to pass the baby.

“Go to hell.”

Annette raised her head, chin trembling. Her eyes darted fervently, as if searching for something or someone to make her world good and safe again.

“You and I are going for a walk, Emily,” Trish said. “Kurt will baby-sit.”

Annette began to cry and pressed into my leg until I nearly stumbled. Soon her sobs grew so hard her whole body shook.

“I’m not going anywhere without her!”

I held her to my side. Casey began to cry.

Trish smirked. “I was very clear about what would happen if you told other people. Remember?” She walked from the porch onto the first step. “We’re going for a walk—right now—or I’ll have you shot. Here, in front of your daughter.”

Kurt produced his gun and Annette, staring at me in apparent confusion, wailed.

Trish continued. “Do you want her to see that, Emily? Want her to feel your blood spatter?” She paused. “Imagine the nightmares.”

“Shut up!”

Annette jerked suddenly and released my leg. She buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook but there was no sound.

“Oh God,” I dropped to the ground. “I didn’t mean you, baby.”

I used one knee to support Casey, and the other sank into the cold ground. I rubbed Annette’s back. She moved her head to my shoulder, and light reflected off her tear-streaked cheeks. She sniffled and wiped her face on my shirt.

I turned my mouth toward her ear. “I love you, sweetheart. Since before you were even born.”

Casey was crying so loudly I wondered if she’d heard me. I shifted him and leaned toward her again, wrapping an arm tightly around her wispy frame.

I heard Trish’s boots descend the steps.

“Touching,” she said, “but enough’s enough.”

She walked to us, put a hand on Annette’s shoulder, and pulled.

“Leave me alone!” Annette swatted her. “Go away!”

Kurt stepped forward to help. Annette kicked him and he swore at her.

I held onto my child with everything I had, but they pulled until I lost one small part of her at a time. Finally, I only had a grip on her tiny arm. When she cried out, I worried it was because of how hard I was squeezing.

Kurt suddenly shoved her away and tried to wrestle Casey from me instead.

Trish wrapped her arms around Annette’s body and tried to lift her. I didn’t let go.

“Don’t let her take me!” Annette yelled.

I reached with my other hand to hold her back, and instantly Casey was gone.

Both children were crying, screaming with every breath, terrified. Then Trish wrenched Annette’s arm from me. I lunged after her, and something struck the back of my head.

Chapter Thirty-eight

I woke up on the cold ground with sharp pine needles poking into my neck and cheek. I closed a weak fist over loose earth and blinked. It was hard to focus. I was still in the driveway beside the cars, and my neck hurt too badly to raise my head.

The sallow glow of the porch light outlined silhouettes huddled on the porch. I blinked again and counted. There were three people now, and no sign of the kids.

Dew had soaked my blouse and pants. I started to shiver and wondered how long I’d been out. Long enough for Trish and Kurt, and whoever was with them, to feel comfortable walking away from me. Not long enough for the sky to completely darken. The woods were wrapped in heavier shadows, but I could still make out the trees. I blinked over and over. There was dirt in my eyes.

It was hard to see, but that had less to do with the grit in my eyes than it did with the blow to my head. When I moved it too quickly, objects blurred.

I focused on Trish’s silhouette. She’d gathered her hair into a ponytail. I couldn’t understand what she was saying, but she gestured wildly and the ponytail bounced when she spoke.

Kurt must have pulverized my neck when he’d hit me. It hurt to move, and I felt dizzy when I tried. I brought a hand to the back of my head and rubbed. My neck was swollen and a knot had already formed. I checked my fingers. No blood.

The Volvo was a couple yards away. I thought about scrambling behind its wheel, but expected I’d be shot before I reached the door.

A more subtle strategy might be to slide under the car, into blackness. Woods were on the other side. Maybe I’d have a chance if I could get that far.

But, even if I disappeared among the pines, what about Annette? If escaping meant losing her, I didn’t want to live.

I knew I couldn’t get her out alone. Going for help was probably our only chance, but I had no real idea where to go, or how long it might take. Would there be time? I was on foot; they had vehicles—not comforting odds.

I rolled onto my back and took a deep breath to help control the pain. I had to extend my neck to monitor the activity on the porch. It was agony.

I inhaled and braced for another roll. Slowly, I made my way onto my stomach again. I’d closed half the distance to the car and hadn’t been detected. Adrenaline was kicking in.

Another roll, and I was staring at the undercarriage, which had less clearance than I’d hoped. I stole my last glance at the porch and maneuvered onto my belly for the last time, figuring it would be easier to scoot under the car that way. I wedged into the warm space underneath the car. It smelled like oil.

Something hissed at me and I froze.

It was a damn cat. If it belonged to Trish, it was probably as evil and pissed off as she was. I turned my head toward the porch again and let it rest on the ground while I caught my breath. Someone new was talking, a man. I inched further under the car, and the cat hissed again.

When I was completely underneath the car, I squinted in the direction of the cat, but it had slunk away. I breathed deeply and tried to do the same.

I squirmed further beneath the car and made my way out the other side. The terrain leading into the woods sloped downward. I hoped the little ridge would hide me. Crouching, I started down the slight hill. I wanted to hurry, but if I stepped too quickly, snapping twigs and crunching pine cones would give me away.

“She’s gone!” It was Kurt.

I broke into a run and angled myself toward the main road. Behind me, someone yelled to bring flashlights. “Over there!”

A gun fired. I ducked behind a thick tree and huddled near the ground, panting.

“Hold it, Emily,” Trish called into the woods. I heard the wooden storm door smack closed.

“Can you see me?” she shouted. “See who I have?”

I peered around the base of the tree. Trish stood behind Annette on the porch. It looked like she had a hand on my little girl’s shoulder. I thought she had a gun in the other. Annette stood mechanically, as if she’d been posed. Her fight was gone, and I became enraged all over again. Trish had broken her.

Trish yelled, “That was a warning shot. The next one won’t be. Bullets are cheap.”

I sniffled and wiped away tears I hadn’t noticed before. These people thought nothing of killing. I thought about Jack’s funeral, and remembered his mom kissing the closed casket before the pallbearers carried it to the hearse.

“Send her back inside!” I called. “I’ll come out.”

Two strong flashlight beams converged in my vicinity and swept the darkness. I pressed into the bark of my tree and stayed low. The porch door slammed again, and I wondered if Annette had really been taken back inside.

Trish screamed toward the forest. “I want my money, God damn you!” She stomped the porch. “Come out!”

I recognized a man’s voice calling from the direction of one of the flashlights: “Come on out to the drive now, sweetheart. I know you think she’s naughty, but actually…” he swung the beam through the trees around me, “this is very reasonable for her.” It was Scud.

A thick band of light passed over my tree and snapped back. He held it there.

“Olly olly oxen free,” he said.

The illumination around me broadened when Kurt added his beam.

“Come over here, toward the drive.”

Standing made me dizzy, and I used the tree for support. The base of my skull throbbed. I looked toward the cabin to check for Annette. All I could see were the bright lights shining in my face.

“That was a quite a show at the drop zone last night,” Scud said. “I like feisty girls, but I gotta tell ya…you did a number on my shoulder. It hurts like a sonofabitch. So now, I’m afraid there’s a score to settle.”

He dropped his light to the ground in front of me. I stepped forward. Kurt kept his light in my face.

“Don’t worry,” Scud added. “Won’t hurt a bit. I’m a better shot than you.”

I raised a hand to shield my eyes. All I could see was mud and leaves up to a yard in front of me, then nothing.

“You’re walking too slow,” Kurt said. “Move faster, or your prissy little girl comes out and gets a messy anatomy lesson when she watches me shoot you.”

I stumbled forward, following Scud’s light on the ground. Soon I climbed the little slope toward the driveway and found myself between the van and the car again. I realized with a pang that I’d hardly gotten anywhere.

“Turn around and walk toward the road,” Trish said. It sounded like she was near Kurt.

I turned away from the cabin and flashlights and began walking. One set of footsteps receded behind me. I heard someone mounting the porch steps, and finally there was the familiar slap of the storm door.

Ahead, the flashlight beams stretched into the night to show me the way.

“Where are we going?”

No one answered. I listened to the footsteps following me, grinding the dirt a few paces back. Sometimes the steps sounded so close together I thought maybe only one person was there with me. But the beams weren’t moving in sync. I heard whispering, but no words.

“What will you do with them?” I said.

The only response was silence.

I stopped and turned. The flashlights stopped moving; they were about three yards away, very close together.

“What happens to the kids?” I was crying. “What happens to Annette?”

I could make out the faint outlines of figures holding the lights and gauged from her stature that one of them was Trish.

“What happens to Annette?” She mocked me. She even added a fake sniffle. “What happens to Annette?” Then her voice hardened. “Who the fuck cares? Turn around and walk.”

I fell to my knees. My sobs echoed in the stillness, reverberated in my ears, completely understating my terror and loss.

“There’s no time for this shit,” Scud said. He wasn’t talking to me. “Was that necessary? Look at her. She ain’t moving any faster, is she?”

“Why should I move?” I yelled, staring toward them.

Trish lowered her beam and for a moment I could see more clearly. She raised an arm in front of her, and my chest tightened. She was going to shoot me, there in the driveway.

Scud reached across and put his hand on her extended arm. He leaned close to her and whispered. She lowered it.

“Relax, sweetheart,” Scud said to me. “You’re right. We want money. We get it many ways. Kids…” he paused “Well, frankly, kids don’t fetch a good price dead. I won’t sugar coat this, ’cause I’m sure you see things for what they are. You won’t walk away from this. But Annette will, as long as you tell us where the locker is. Otherwise, she’ll die in front of you. You decide.”

When he finished, I expected something snide from Trish. Instead, there was only the faint rustle of swaying leaves. I inhaled sharply, and heard the sound of my breathing too. Tears dropped down my cheeks as resignation washed over me. I was helpless against Trish and Scud, but if I revealed the locker location, at least Annette wouldn’t be used as a bargaining token anymore. At least she would live.

“Still thinking?” Scud said. “Get up and walk toward the road.”

I don’t remember how far we walked before Trish spoke up behind me. “Where is it?”

I was ready to answer, but Scud answered first. “A few yards ahead still.”

“Yeah, but where?” Trish’s voice.

He cast the beam of his flashlight off the left side of the driveway and swung it back and forth until it found an old, abandoned tire.

“There.”

“Here’s your turn-off.” Trish shoved me in the back.

I stumbled, and walked into the woods where they showed me. I wondered how long Jeannie would stay in Texas before going home. At some point she’d have to accept I’d never be found. Trish had done me one favor, even though she hadn’t meant to. She’d spared Jeannie’s life by separating us.

I shuffled through the woods wherever they told me to go, stepping over fallen branches and ducking under low ones, until I was suddenly told to stop walking. My eyes stung and my cheeks were wet, but I wasn’t afraid to die. I was crying because there was so much I’d never explain to my little girl.

Trish and Scud walked ahead of me a few paces and then diverged to either side. I watched them swing their flashlight beams along the ground as if looking for something.

“Right here,” Scud said. Trish turned and joined him.

They directed their lights at the ground, into a giant oblong hole with a thick mound of dirt around its edges. My grave.

“Get in,” Scud said. “Make it easy on me, I’ll make it easy on you.”