Oath of Office (36 page)

Lou lifted the bath towel Renee had laid across his lap, exposing the gash on his thigh from Stone’s bullet. She rose from the sofa, went to the bottom of the stairs, and called up to Emily.

“What is it?” Emily yelled back without materializing.

“Pack a suitcase, sweetie. We’re going to spend a few days with Nana.”

“What?” The teen bounded down the stairs as if teleported. “What are you talking about going to Nana’s? For how long? I have plans this weekend.”

“Cancel them and pack,” Renee said more sternly. “No arguments.”

Emily’s expression immediately became one of deep concern. “We’re gonna be okay, right?” she asked.

Lou hugged her again. “Thanks for not putting up a fuss, kiddo. We’re going to be fine. I just need time to straighten some things out.”

After exchanging anxious looks with each parent, Emily whirled and raced back up the stairs.

As soon as they heard her bedroom door slam, Renee asked softly, “Why do you think
we’re
in danger?”

“Gilbert Stone,” Lou said, clenching his battered hands. “He did a lot of research on me. My arrest, our divorce, my reinstatement by the medical board. I have no reason to believe all that information hasn’t found its way to Chester.”

“It’s not your fault,” Renee said. “This is the information age, and Stone is—was—the police, and Chester has boatloads of money. If they want us, they’ll find us eventually.”

“Eventually isn’t now. You can’t go to Nana’s, though.”

“Why not?”

“For all the reasons you just said. If they can get to you, they can get to your mother. What about Steve?”

“What about him?”

“Does his company have a retreat—someplace you’ve never been?”

Renee thought a moment. “No, but a partner at his law firm has a place in the Adirondacks that he keeps offering to Steve. A fishing cabin, I think.”

“Perfect. Call Steve, now. Tell him you all need to go there right away. Make him believe you.”

Lou watched the color drain from Renee’s face. “I’m sorry, Lou. I really am.”

No casting blame. No poor us.

This was a hell of a woman.

Those thoughts segued into images of Darlene.

Was it possible? he found himself wondering. Was there any way it could happen between them? Given their situation, given his predicament at the moment, all he could do was smile inwardly. The answers to any questions about him and Darlene Mallory were more than clear: not in this lifetime.

First things first, Cap would remind him. First things first. And the first thing here was to survive William Chester and find a way to bring him down.

“Lou, don’t let anything happen to Em,” Renee said, sobbing now.

He held her tightly while he tried to quell his own fears. Then he rocked her in his arms, stroking her hair in the way that was still familiar after so many years.

“Nothing’s going to happen to her,” he said once, then again. “Nothing’s going to happen to her, or you … or Steve.” Lou closed his eyes and whispered the word
hush,
over and over again until her sobbing subsided.

When Renee pulled away, the anxiety in her eyes had been replaced by resolve. “Go shower off,” she said. “I’ll call Steve and then I’ll get you some clothes.”

She took a few steps toward the kitchen phone, then stopped.

“Lou, how are these people in Kings Ridge being infected by the corn? If it’s not an airborne contagion, like you originally thought, then how?”

Lou bit at his lip. “I can’t figure it out,” he said. “I’ve about torn my brain in half, and I just can’t figure it out.”

Renee returned to the living room after calling her husband. “He’s on his way,” she said. “He didn’t doubt the urgency for a second. He trusts you, Lou. That says a lot.”

“I’ll help you pack, as soon as I wash off,” he said.

Renee paused. “Who are the people you know of who have been affected?” she asked.

Lou listed off the names.

“Now, what do they have in common?”

“Nothing except the obvious, as far as I can tell,” he said.

“No … if the symptoms aren’t the result of something airborne, then there’s got be a physical factor linking them,” she said. “You’re just too close to it, that’s all.”

“Maybe. Maybe so. Listen, Renee, you need to pack. Chester has enough money to get at you unless we make it nearly impossible.”

“Okay, okay. Just think about it, though.” Her voice trailed off.

Lou followed her upstairs and showered in the guest bathroom. Renee was right. There had to be a connection.

Lou couldn’t dwell long on the possibilities. Steve worked in D.C. and would be home soon. Renee had her suitcase at the top of the stairs. The sooner they were on their way, the better, and even then he wouldn’t feel safe until he heard they had arrived at the cabin without incident.

He went to Emily’s room and helped her gather her things.

“What’s really going on, Dad?” she asked, her eyes moist.

Lou patted the edge of her twin bed, and she sat down beside him. The nearness of her comforted him and calmed him more than any medication ever could have. “Like I said, there is a very bad man who wants to hurt me and anyone close to me. He’s angry because I can prove the corn he’s selling is responsible for that doctor who shot all those people.”

“Dr. Meacham, your client from the Wellness Office,” she said.

Lou reminded himself never to underestimate or talk down to his daughter. Thirteen going on thirty. “Exactly,” he said. “I’m going to go speak to the police, and we’re going to do what we can to put a stop to this and put him in jail where he belongs. You can help by doing what Mom tells you. Okay?”

“Dad, I’m scared.”

“I understand,” he said. “I’m a little scared myself. But once you’re away and safe, no one can hurt you and I’ll have time to go and talk to the police. It won’t be long. I promise.”

Emily wrapped her arms around him and he allowed her to cry until she was able to stop. He was still holding her when an incongruous image popped into his head. It was the image of pathetic Roberta Jennings, seated in her living room, swollen ankles folded over the tops of her shoes.

Tell, me, Mrs. Jennings, did you have any interactions with Dr. Meacham outside of the clinic? Were you involved in any clubs together? Community organizations? Church groups? Anything like that?

And at that instant, the missing piece fell into place and he knew.

Together, he and Emily moved the suitcases downstairs.

Lou was getting a glass of water in the kitchen when he felt his cell phone vibrating in the pocket of the sweatpants Renee had given him. It was a text message from an unfamiliar number.

Darlene?

Lou clicked the message icon, and a photo appeared. His breathing stopped. The picture was of Cap and George. Both men were blindfolded, with their hands bound and suspended above their heads by chains. They were imprisoned inside what appeared to be the boxcar of a train. He could make out the train’s open side door, as well as some spray-painted writing on the interior wall. A message accompanied the photograph.

Come to the Chester Enterprises grain silo in Monroe, West Virginia by eight o’clock sharp, or the next picture I send will have your friends’ throats slit open. Tip off the police or anyone else and I’ll kill both of them as slowly and painfully as possible, and then, your wife, Renee and your daughter, 13-y.o. Emily. We need to talk.

“Damn.”

“What’s going on?” Renee asked from the living room. “What was that?”

“Cap,” he said. “It was Cap.” He averted his eyes, but not too much. Like their daughter, Renee was a smart bomb for the truth.

“Anything important?”

“Not really,” Lou said, unable to keep himself from shaking. “He just wants to get together is all. Listen, can you all take Steve’s car and let me have yours? The Mercedes is virtually undrivable.”

“No problem. Just put your shot-up one in the driveway. The neighbors don’t take kindly to folks who let such things happen to a Mercedes. Here are the keys to my BMW. You bring it back with the windshields all busted out, and you’re going to have to open up a lemonade stand to pay for it.”

“You have maps in your car?”

“A terrific GPS and a whole road atlas, why?”

“Just some thoughts I want to check on,” he said, his eyes averted again.

From what Lou remembered, Monroe was about twenty minutes south of Wardensville and a good two hours’ drive from Renee’s house in Arlington. He checked the time. He could make it at the designated hour, but only if he left soon.

At that moment, the house phone rang.

“That was Steve,” Renee said after a moment’s conversation. “He’s about ten minutes away.”

“I’m going to head off because Cap doesn’t have much time,” Lou said, before realizing that he had spoken the grisly, terrifying truth. “Keep your doors locked and the phone handy until Steve’s here. Call me when he arrives, and then as soon as you’re settled in.”

“You be careful,” Renee insisted.

“I love you, Daddy,” Emily said, throwing her arms around him.

“I love you, too, Kiddo. This will all be over soon.”

I’m coming, Cap,
he was thinking
. You stay strong. I’m coming.

CHAPTER 50

Lou was a few miles from the grain silo before allowing himself to feel nervous. Throughout the ride, he tried to formulate a plan—any sort of plan as to what he might do once he arrived at William Chester’s rural lair. The highest card he had to play appeared at the end of Chester’s text message:

We need to talk
.

Talking meant there might be some wiggle room. Chester’s son and only child was dead. It was a given that the man wasn’t going to allow Lou to live. But there was information he wanted that Lou might be able to use to barter for Cap’s and George’s lives—most likely the identity of those whom he had spoken to about what he knew.

In earlier, simpler days, he had hiked the Appalachian Trail through West Virginia a number of times. The lush forests and churning rivers were just what John Denver had written in the song: “almost heaven.” He had actually driven through the hamlets of Wardensville and Monroe once, although he could not remember the circumstances. The towns were somewhere around the junction of state routes 50 and 220. The GPS showed only one major east–west rail line in the area, and his smartphone one corn silo near the intersection of the two roads. It was owned by Chester Enterprises. Obstacle one, albeit a small one compared to those ahead, had been negotiated.

Jaw clenched, he located the track—a pair of parallel tracks, actually—as well as the two-lane roadway that ran alongside them. Unless he came up with something soon, he was going to show up at the rendezvous with Chester less prepared than Emily had probably been for her most recent math test, although if he recalled correctly, she had reported getting an A on it nevertheless.

Lou had considered and rejected bringing a weapon of some sort to this showdown, perhaps a kitchen knife. Given the manpower Chester was sure to have, a slingshot like the one David had used against Goliath would have done him more good. He had decided that going to the authorities was a no-go as well. Cap and George had essentially no time left. Even so, twice, on the drive to Monroe, he grabbed his cell phone to call 911, but could not get past Chester’s blood-chilling warning.

I’ll kill both of them as slowly and painfully as possible, and then, your wife, Renee and your daughter …

Lou needed only to glance at the horrifying picture of the two men, hands secured by chains, faces beaten to pulps, to convince himself that bringing help would be a death sentence.

Lou took in a deep breath and vowed he would not let them die. It was his fault that their lives were on the line. Cap had been there for him since the day the two of them had met. George had already pulled himself out of a situation that had buried many others. He was a role model—an important role model to kids from the inner city. His future was full of productivity and service—if he lived. At this point, it seemed like the best Lou could hope for was to find a weakness in William Chester—some miracle negotiation that would save their lives.

No matter what, he wasn’t going to go down easily.

The two-hour drive to Monroe felt interminable. His mind wandered through the Frankencorn transmission conundrum and the solution that had to be right. The quiet, tree-lined streets of the village, with its clapboard houses, white picket fences, and old town general store, glided past and vanished in his rearview.

William Chester was nearby now, waiting.

Lou followed the twin rail beds out of town. The trees thinned out and then disappeared altogether. Dusk settled into twilight as the GPS in Renee’s car instructed him to turn onto a rutted single-lane road. Lou kept the BMW’s speed down, just in case a police cruiser lurked behind a billboard.

It was nineteen minutes until eight o’clock.

Still no plan.

Outside of Monroe, the terrain became flat. The two sets of tracks were on his left, perhaps thirty yards away. In the distance, through the deepening gloom, he could see the silos, brightly illuminated by spots, rising like a mystical metropolis from the tableland. On the far track, the one that he guessed handled westbound traffic, was a train—almost certainly,
the train
. It was a colossus stretching toward the horizon as far as he could see, perhaps a mile or more long with what seemed an infinite number of cars.

As Lou rolled past the caboose, he could see two men inside. They were at a table, drinking or playing cards, or perhaps both. He chose not to cut his lights. There was no need to call any unwanted attention to himself, and he was far enough away from the train, on the opposite side of the other track, that he could have been any traveler heading west.

Lou drove until he was five or six cars past the caboose, then slowed almost to a stop. The behemoth shook as its rusted wheels struggled to inch forward. Then it stopped for a time before inching forward again.

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