Ripples (21 page)

“Why should I trust you?”

Mercedes stands. “It’s my inheritance we’re talking about.”

I keep my head down ... dabbing alcohol on Jake’s wound.

Tess nods in our direction. “Then get over there and keep an eye on things.”

Jake coughs. “So what’s in this for you, Teresa? Somehow I doubt this is about a mother protecting her daughter’s future.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got it all figured out. But we’re just going to take things one step at a time. Like you used to say back when you were teaching us how to squeeze the last nickel out of every deal.”

I wrap his arm in clean bandages.

Mercedes tears off strips of tape ... smiles at me as she sticks them on the bandage. “You still like cinnamon candy?” she asks. I think she wants to remind me of when she used to give me some of her candies on the nights Bryce would beat us, send us to bed hungry—back when we were little, and I’d cry myself to sleep, cradled in her arms. She stopped holding me when the touching started.

Jake sighs. “Either of you girls given a shot before?”

We shake our heads.

“Not that hard,” he says. “Hand me that vial.” He points to the little medicine bottle.

I hand it to him.

“Now the needle.”

Mercedes gives it to him.

“Antibiotic—kills the germs,” he says. He turns the needle point into his bad arm ... his thumb presses down on the stick end of the needle. Drops the needle and vial ... breathes deep ... closes his eyes.

Tess mutters, “Her name was Francesca.”

Deputy Sheriff Baker

R
ed dye covers every square inch of landscape starting a half-mile into the firebreak. Trees, scrub, rocks—everything’s red. I’m bouncing along under twenty miles-an-hour, searching the tree-line, hoping our subject stands out, although he’s likely coated with fire retardant as well.

Grimes rides about twenty yards out in front of me, becoming hazier as we close in on the fire. The green bandana he soaked in the lake to cover his nose and mouth is now a shade of purple. Another quarter mile in flames are leaping out of the smoke near the ridgeline. The wind’s pretty calm down here, but up there it’s blowing hard—reported at thirty knots with gusts to fifty.

I glance over at Grimes. He’s pulled the mare to a halt and is pointing at something up on the ridge in a large patch of blackened hillside that escaped the aerial dump of fire retardant. I stop, shift the Blazer into park, and step out. Below what was once woods—now an array of charcoal spikes sticking out of reddened earth—is a charred, smoldering lump, about the size of a man.

Grimes digs his heels into the mare and charges uphill. When he reaches what appears to be human remains, he wipes his forehead and leans over, lowering his forehead to listen for signs of life. While Grimes is still bent over, a patch of wheat-colored grass between us bursts into flames. The mare bolts away in full gallop. He straightens, stares down at the smoldering corpse, and extends his hands toward me as if begging for help.

I jump in the Blazer and spin up a cloud of dust in a desperate effort to reach Grimes before he’s trapped behind the flames. When I get to him, I jump out and nudge the body with my boot. Not a sound, not a twitch. Remnants of clothing turned to soot stick to the toe of my boot. I drop to my knees and reach for the victim’s wrist to feel for a pulse. Roasted flesh comes off in my hand. I jerk away.

Grimes retrieves a fire retardant blanket from the Blazer that we use to wrap the body, and we lift it into the back of the Blazer. As we get into the vehicle, patches of unburnt grass below us explode into flames.

I gun the engine and we bound over bumps and ruts, dodging flames as we race to safety. Once we reach the gravel road, a voice crackles over the radio, “Central to Baker. We have an emergency response requested. Chandler residence.”

I grab the radio mic. “Baker here. Are you sure about that location?”

“Roger, Boss.”

I turn to Grimes. “What the hell’s going on here? We cleared this place.”

He wipes his mouth. “Yeah, that was over an hour ago.”

I unholster my service revolver. “Let’s go.”

After making another sweep of the cabin, I look at Grimes. “What are we missing?”

As we walk out to the Blazer I radio dispatch. “Baker here. Who called in that emergency from the Chandler place?”

“Came from one of those home security companies. Said they had a distress signal from inside the residence.”

I gaze out over the lake. Smoke covers the whole ridge; flames are erupting out of the trees along the opposite shore. “Grimes, let’s go. Stat. It’s coming right at us.”

We jump in the Blazer and head out to the highway. As we turn down toward town, I tell Grimes, “It’s going to jump the road.”

Amy

Tess points to the bright pictures up on the wall. “Shit ....”

Mercedes nudges me.

I look up. Lake’s on fire.

I shake Jake—his eyes are still closed. Lean over—put my ear to his mouth. He’s barely breathing. I look back at the bright pictures. Some of the rooms ... filled with smoke. Dock and deck on fire ... bright orange flames ... black smoke ... water falling out of the sky. Grab Mercedes’ arm ... “We’re gonna die.”

She hugs me and whispers, “No, we’re not … and we’re sticking together... I promise.”

On the wall ... bright pictures flicker ... turn black. Everything turns black. Humming goes away. I reach for Jake, lying on the table ... find his face ... hot ... fever.

Tess screams, “Where’s the damn lights?”

The lights come back on … like they’re listening to her. Not bright like they were. There’s that humming again. I start over to the shelf for more water.

Tess yells, “Stop! Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

I hold up my hands. “Just going for more water.” Point at Jake. “Fever.”

She nods, “Okay, just don’t move so fast.”

Grab two bottles. Open one as I walk back to the table. Pour water over his forehead. Prop up his head. Press the open bottle to his lips—let water trickle out. Some goes in his mouth. He coughs, chokes. Twitches, moans.

Tess walks over to the table. Reaches under her shirt ... pulls out the paper again. She smirks. “Here, Mr. Chandler. You should always read the fine print before you sign.”

I help him sit up. He takes the paper. Squints. Reads it. When he’s done he lays back, drops paper to the floor.

Mercedes stoops to pick it up.

Jake points, motions me to the drawer. “Teresa, you should read my will ....”

Tess huffs. “I don’t care what it says. What the lawyer gave me is all we need.” She looks at me. “Come back here.”

Jake rasps. “Bring me the will.”

As I walk to the drawer my back stiffens, like when Bryce is about to stick his thing into me. I reach in the drawer, lay my hand on the pistol. Lights go out again. No more humming. I clutch the gun and wait.

Tess yells, “Everybody over here.”

The lights don’t come back on.

Pad ... pad ... footsteps on the hard floor. Someone’s moving.

I stay put.

Pad ... pad ... pad. Footsteps moving away.

“Stop.” Tess’s voice. “Stay close so I can see you.”

Pad ... pad ... pad ... pad. Farther away.

Jake moans.

Tess says, “You awake over there, Chandler?”

He moans again.

I slip off my shoes, tiptoe to the table. Feel for Jake’s hand, brush the pistol over it.

He groans.

I turn his palm up. He balls up his hand in a fist. I press the gun against his knuckles. He won’t open his hand. Why won’t he take the gun?

Tess calls out, her voice scratchy, like when she’s spooked. “Amy, Mercedes—sound off so I know where you are.”

Good she can’t see us.

Pad ... pad ... pad. That’s got to be Mercedes. She’s getting close to Tess.

Tess calls out, “Mercedes! Amy!”

Neither of us answers.

Pad ... pad ... pad.

Tess yells, “Who’s that? Speak up.”

Pad ... pad.

Tess grunts.

Feet shuffle. Someone groans, gasps.

“You—you—evil bitch.” That’s Mercedes’ voice.

An explosion a few feet in front of me—the noise almost makes me deaf. A thud—the bullet hitting the wall? Someone hits the floor. A gasp. A sigh. I hold out the pistol. Point into the dark.

Deputy Sheriff Baker

B
ack at my desk, I check with the 911 operator who took the call from Chandler’s home security outfit, who gives me the company’s contact info. The security consultant I connect with balks at giving me details about the installation design. Wants me to produce a search warrant. I tell him lives might be at stake. He asks for a call back number. I transfer him to Central Dispatch so they can transfer him back to me.

When he’s back on the line he tells me what I hoped to hear. Whoever we tracked into the cabin didn’t just disappear. There’s an underground bunker with a hidden entry. I grab Grimes and we head to Chandler’s. On the way, I call Dispatch, requesting backup and SWAT. They say it’ll take at least forty minutes for help to arrive.

About halfway up the mountain, Forest Service has the road blocked. The fire jumped the highway above—Chandler’s place is toast. A ranger tells us the ground’s still too hot to let us through. I bang the steering wheel with my fist. “Dispatch got an emergency call from an underground bunker at the Chandler place.”

The ranger replies, “In that case, they survived the flames and are out of danger.”

My heart’s pounding in my ears. “Not if they’re severely injured. Fires aren’t the only dangers up here.”

“I’ll call the captain and see what he says.”

The command vehicle is in view just up the road. I sigh and nod. “Thank you.”

A few minutes later a couple of fully equipped firefighters approach our cruiser. They’re followed by a couple of others who are carrying armloads of protective gear. We’re directed to pull over and park on the shoulder. The firefighters will take care of us. I tell the ranger, “Expect a SWAT unit about a half-hour from now. We’ll need them, so be sure they get clearance to pass.”

She nods and radios the message on to Command.

Amy

There’s the pad … pad … pad, again. It’s over there.

Point the gun at the noise. It stops.

Or was it over there? Wave the pistol in front of me … right to left … left to right.

“Amy, it’s Mercedes. I’m okay. We’re okay. She can’t bother us anymore.”

“How do I know?” I point the gun at the sound of her voice.

“Believe me. I took care of her.”

Poke the gun into the dark in front of me. “Don’t know I can trust you.”

“She just been using us to get to at his money, and she threatened to kill me if I didn’t cooperate.”

Pad … pad.

I yell, “Stop. I’ll shoot.”

“Okay—okay. You don’t have to be afraid anymore. They’re gone. Both of them. I watched her kill Bryce up on the ridge.” Her voice cracks. “She was going to kill us both when she got what she was after.”

“But she was your mother. You killed your own mother. How could you?”

“Maybe she birthed me, or not—whichever—she was no mother. She knew what Bryce was doing to us. She just let him keep doing it.” Mercedes chokes … sobbing. “A mother’s supposed to protect her kids.”

I swallow a lump in my throat. “But, RJ … you left him out there to die. You were jealous.”

She blubbers through her tears. “I tried to go back—honest. I tried to go back for him. It didn’t matter to me that she said she was going to make me rich. My shoulder … she … she … the pain was just too much. I couldn’t fight her off. She overpowered me.”

She’s not sobbing anymore.

Pad … pad.

“I said stop.”

“I’m putting down the rifle. If we’re gonna get out of here and get him to a doctor, we have to work together. You
have
to trust me.”

“Just don’t move. I’m thinking.”

Jake groans.

I lean over and feel for his face. It’s even hotter … sweatier.

Pad, pad, pad, pad, pad.

I look up … trembling … grip the gun tighter … an explosion rips my ears … the gun jumps out of my hand … glass shatters across the room. I shriek.

Pad, pad, pad. Mercedes wraps me in her arms and whispers, “Shh … everything’s gonna to be okay. No one’s gonna ever hurt you again, I promise.”

My sobbing won’t stop. “I … I thought ….”

“You weren’t pointing that thing anywhere near me.” Mercedes lets out a nervous laugh. “Guess it’s a good thing I’ve learned to get around in the dark. In this country, you have to adapt to survive.”

Feet shuffling just a few feet away. A rifle booms … nearly splits my ears.

A voice croaks. “Yeah, but never forget the rules—finish what you start and don’t let your guard down.”

Tess! How?

I hug Mercedes like she’s all I have to keep me from tumbling off a cliff. “I thought ….”

Mercedes holds me tight. “It’s going to be okay.”

Tess rasps. “You two are right about one thing—he’s got to be alert enough to sign my papers.”

Mercedes mutters, “I’d rather take my chances with what’s in his will.”

Tess laughs. “Always the little smart ass. To set the record straight, I did save you from Bryce. Who the hell do you think fixed it so you could escape?”

Mercedes sneers. “Yeah, but he beat me for years, and he raped me for weeks before I got away.”

“I did what I had to for both of us to survive—and I took the first chance I got to get you out of there.”

“But what about her? You let him go on abusing her for two more years. You did nothing to save her.”

Tess grunts. “She’s the reason we’re in this mess in the first place. And you’ve picked the wrong side. So here’s the new deal—we get out of here alive with my papers signed and I give you a twenty-four hour head start to disappear and never be heard from again. Cross me, and you die on the spot. I only need one of you to get what’s due me.” She clears her throat. “I know Amy, here, won’t put up a fight. She never does.”

Mercedes pulls away from me. Nudges me aside. “Guess that leaves me without much choice. So we better start saving him. We need to get him more water and see what kind of nourishment there is around here. His body’s got to start building back its blood supply. Gotta fight off infections.”