The Cove (31 page)

“I'm not the bastard. You are.”

“Sally, I hesitate to hit you in front of your aunt. It bothers her, even though she knows what a vicious mouth you have, even though she knows I've got to do it to control you.”

“Amabel, why do you have him here with you? He's a murderer. He's a traitor to our country.”

Amabel sat down beside her. Her fingertips were light and soft as they drifted over Sally's forehead, pushing her hair behind her ears, lightly smoothing her eyebrows.

“Amabel, please. When I was here before, I know it was him on the phone to me. He admitted that he'd looked in through the bedroom window.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Why was he here, Amabel?”

“He had to come here, Sally. He had to take you back to the sanitarium. He hoped to make you doubt your sanity with the phone calls and his face at the window.”

“But how could he possibly know I was even here?”

“I called him. He was staying at a small inn in Oklahoma City. He took the next plane to Portland, then drove here. But you knew even as you asked that question, didn't you, Sally?

“Ah, but you didn't doubt your sanity at all. That was due in part to Quinlan. That man. His being here made
everything more difficult. Isn't it strange? Quinlan made up that story about coming here to try to find a trace of those old folk? All he wanted was you. He didn't care about any missing old people. Just you. He thought you'd either killed your father or were protecting your mother.

“I've always been amused by the ways of fate. Well, I'm not amused now. There are big problems now.”

“Now, Ammie, do you think it was fate that brought all those nice old people here to buy the World's Greatest Ice Cream so you could then kill them and steal all their money?”

Amabel turned and frowned at him. “I don't know, and neither do you, Amory. Now, I don't care what happens to Quinlan and the others, but I don't want Sally hurt.”

“He doesn't agree with you, Aunt Amabel,” Sally said. “He hates me. You know he's not my father. He has no latent tender feelings for me. As for my mother, did you know that he forced Noelle to stay with him?”

“Why, of course, Sally.”

Sally gaped at her. She couldn't help it. On the other hand, why was she so surprised? Her world had flipped and turned more times in the past seven months than she could cope with. It seemed she'd never known who she really was or why things were the way they were. And she'd hated her mother for her weakness. Oh, God, she'd felt contempt for her, wanted to shake her herself for letting her husband knock her around.

“Who's my father?”

“Now she wants to know,” Amory St. John said, as he strolled into the small bedroom, his hands in his pants pockets.

“Who?”

“Well, dear,” Amabel said, “actually your father was my husband. And yes, he was my husband before he met Noelle and the two of them fell in love—”

“In lust, you mean, Ammie.”

“That too. Anyway, Noelle was always rather stupid,
and Carl wasn't all that much of this earth himself. Knowing both of them as well as I did, I had difficulty figuring out who got whom into bed. But they must have managed it. She got pregnant. Fortunately she was seeing Amory at the time, and things got worked out to everyone's satisfaction.”

“Not to my mother's.”

“Oh, yes, she was thrilled that she wouldn't have to abort you, Sally. She would have, of course, if it meant no husband as a cover.

“I brought my Carl out here to The Cove so he could paint and spend the rest of his meaningless little life doing landscape oils that sell at airport shows for twenty dollars, and that includes their vulgar gold-painted frames. Carl never roamed again. In fact, he begged my forgiveness, said he'd do anything if only I wouldn't leave him. I let him do quite a bit before he died twenty years ago.”

“You didn't kill him, did you?”

“Oh, no. Amory did that, but Carl was already very ill with lung cancer. He never would stop smoking unfiltered Camels. Yes, it was a blessing for Carl that his brakes failed, and he died so quickly. Thank you, Amory.”

“You're welcome, Ammie.”

“So how long have you been lovers?”

Amabel laughed softly, turning to look at the man who was standing in the doorway. “A very long time,” she said.

“So you don't mind him beating the shit out of you, Amabel?”

“No, Amory, don't!” Amabel walked quickly to him and put her hand on his arm. She said over her shoulder, “Listen to me, Sally. Don't talk like that. There's no reason to make your father angry—”

“He's not my father.”

“Nevertheless, mind your tongue. Of course he doesn't hit me. Just Noelle.”

“He hit me too, Amabel.”

“You deserved it,” Amory said.

Sally looked from one to the other. In the dim light she couldn't see either of them clearly. Amory took Amabel's hand, pulled her closer to his side. The shadows seemed to deepen around them, moving into them, drawing them into one. Sally shivered.

“I thought you loved me, Amabel.”

“I do, baby, indeed I do. You're my husband's child and my niece. And I agreed with Amory that you were better off in that nice sanitarium. You weren't doing well. He told me how erratic you'd become, how you were cheating on your husband, how you'd gotten in with the wrong people and were taking drugs.

“He said that Doctor Beadermeyer would help you. I met Doctor Beadermeyer. An excellent doctor, who said you were doing nicely but that you needed complete rest and constant supervision by professionals.”

“That was all a lie. Even if you don't want to believe he's such a monster, just think about it. You've read the papers, seen the news. Everyone is looking for him. Everyone knows that many of the patients in Doctor Beadermeyer's sanitarium were prisoners, just like I was.”

“Oh, baby, don't do this. I don't want to put a gag in your mouth, but I will. I won't let you talk about him like this.”

“All right, but didn't you wonder about how crazy I was when he showed up here, knocked me over the head, and drugged me? When he nearly killed James?”

Amory St. John pulled away from Amabel. He walked to the bed and stood there, staring down at Sally. “In this dim light I can't tell if you're going to be bruised or not.”

“You really hit her that hard, Amory?”

“Don't fret, Ammie. She deserved it. She spit on me. Over the years I learned exactly how hard I could hit Noelle to get a certain kind and color of bruise. But
everyone's skin is different. We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?”

“You're nuts,” Sally said. “You're fucking nuts.”

“I would have whipped you if you'd ever said that when you lived under my roof.”

“It doesn't matter, Amory. She's frightened. She doesn't know what's going to happen to her.”

Sally said, “I know exactly what's going to happen to me. He doesn't have Doctor Beadermeyer to hold me prisoner for him anymore. No, he's going to kill me, Amabel. You know that as well, otherwise you wouldn't have admitted everything to me. No, don't deny it. You've already accepted it. But I don't really count. What will bring both of you down is hurting the FBI agents. You try killing James, and all hell will break loose. I know his boss, and you can count on it.”

“They're stupid, all of them,” Amory said. He shrugged. “I know things will get even more difficult, but we'll deal with it. Actually I've already set things in motion. It's true I just didn't count on that bastard getting you away from Doctor Beadermeyer again. That's what ripped it apart. All my plans, Sally, everything has had to be rearranged. It has put me out. Now I'm no longer dead, thanks to the two of you. Now I'll have to leave the country forever.”

“Just try it. They'll catch you. With those arms sales to Hussein, you've got the Feds ready to tear the world apart looking for you.”

“I know. Such a pity. But it will be fine. I got most of my money out of the Caymans and Switzerland nearly a year ago. I left just a bit in all those foreign accounts, just to tantalize the Feds, just so they'd realize I knew exactly what I was doing. It will make them crazy, and they won't catch me.”

“James will catch you.”

“Your James Quinlan isn't going to catch a cold. He won't have time before he's sent six feet under.”

She felt such rage she couldn't stop herself. She heaved up, hitting him in the face with her bound fists. Hard. He cursed, shoving her back, his own fist raised.

She heard Amabel yell, “Don't, Amory!”

But that fist just kept coming down, not toward her face but toward her ribs.

 

“W
ELL
,
HELL
,” Q
UINLAN
said.“ Sorry, guys, but the old codgers were thorough. My army knife is gone. I always taped it to my ankle. Damn.”

Thomas said, “Damn is right. Corey, what are you doing? Why are you heaving around like a gutted fish? Why are you making those weird groaning sounds?”

She was breathing hard. “You'll see. I didn't count on Quinlan finding that knife. Just wait a moment, I've nearly made it through.”

“Made what through?” Quinlan said, desperately straining to see her in the darkness.

“I was a gymnast. I have the dubious honor of being the most flexible agent to go through the program at Quantico. I'm getting my arms beneath my butt and pushing on through and in just a minute—Jesus, this is tougher than it used to be when I was younger and skinnier—” She stopped, breathing hard, straining. “There.”

She was panting, laughing. “I did it!”

“What, Corey? For God's sake, what did you do?”

“My hands are now tied in front of me, Thomas. Thank heaven they left enough leeway between me and the wall. The rope around my waist was higher than the rope tying my wrists together. Now, I'm going to turn around and untie the rope around my waist. When I'm free, I can do my feet and then get to you guys.”

“Corey,” Quinlan said, “if you get us out of this, both
Thomas and I will recommend that you become the special agent in charge of the Portland field office. Right, Thomas?”

“If she gets out us out of this, I'll beg her to marry me and be the SAC.”

“Thomas, you're a sexist. I won't ever marry a sexist.”

“Corey, how are you doing?” Quinlan said.

“It's coming. The knot at my waist is pretty easy.”

“Good. Just hurry.”

But how much time did they have left before the old folk came for them? Where was Sally? Quinlan hadn't prayed much in his life, but he was praying now. Did Amabel have her?

“Got it! Now let me get my feet.”

“Oh, shit, I hear something,” Thomas said. “Hurry, Corey, hurry!”

 

“Don't hit her, Amory!”

Amabel grabbed his arm, jerking it away. It slammed against the bed just an inch from Sally's ribs.

He was panting. He wheeled about, his fist raised. “You shouldn't have done that, Ammie. You shouldn't have done it.”

Sally reared up, yelling, “Don't you dare hit her, you fucking cretin!”

But he did, his fist hard against Amabel's jaw, knocking her against the wall. She slid down to the floor.

Sally didn't say a word. She was staring at her aunt, praying she wasn't dead.

“How could you?” She stared up at the man who had to be mad. “You're lovers. She called to tell you I was here so you could come and get me. You hit her just like you hit Noelle.”

“Actually,” he said, rubbing his knuckles, “it's the first time I've ever had to discipline her. She won't go against me in the future now. I wonder how her skin will bruise.”

 

* * *

 

No blinding light came through the door as it creaked open—just a tiny bit, then wider until all three of them could see the stars and the half moon.

“You awake in here?” It was an old man's voice. Which one of them? Quinlan wondered. Was there just one of them come to check on their prisoners, or more? God, he prayed it was just the one old man.

“It ain't quite morning yet, but you should be awake.”

“Yeah,” Thomas said, “we're awake. What? You hoped you'd killed us?”

“Nah, there weren't enough of that stuff Doc had on hand to put your lights out. It would have been easier that way, though. Now, well, it ain't going to be any fun.”

Quinlan nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Corey whimper. “Oh, please, I don't feel well. Please take me to a bathroom. Please.” She was moaning quietly, very effectively.

“Oh, shit,” the old man said. “It's just you, little gal?”

“Yes,” Corey managed to choke out. “Please, hurry.”

“All right. Damn, I didn't expect any of you to be sick. Nobody was ever sick before.”

Corey was slumped over, straight ahead of the old guy, against the back wall. The old man opened the door wider as he came into the shed. Quinlan recognized Purn Davies, the old coot who owned the general store. He saw that Corey had her hands behind her back, as if they were still tied there.

“Please hurry,” she whispered. She sounded god-awful, like she would puke at any moment.

Quinlan looked at Thomas and shook his head.

Just as Purn Davies passed Quinlan, he whipped up his feet and kicked the old man on his thighs, knocking him right onto Corey's lap.

“Gotcha!” Corey said. When the old man began to struggle, she raised her fists and knocked him cold.

“Well done, Corey,” Thomas said. “You sure you
won't marry me? What if I promise to change?”

“Ask me again if we get out of this alive,” she said. “Okay, guys, I'm going to untie Quinlan's wrists, then yours, Thomas. Keep an eye on the old man.”

It took her only about three minutes to untie Quinlan. In another three minutes all of them were free. They rose and stretched and tried to get the blood moving back into their legs and arms. “I think I'll tie him up real good,” Corey said and dropped to her knees. “Look, Quinlan, he's got one of our guns.”

“Thank God,” Quinlan said. He looked outside the shed. “It's near dawn. I don't see a soul. I guess they just sent him here to make sure we were still alive. Why, I don't know. There's no way they could have afforded to keep us alive, no way at all.

“Ah, look here. The old man brought us some sandwiches. They're out here on a tray. How the hell did he expect us to eat them with our hands tied behind our backs?”

“All done,” Corey said, standing behind the two men. “What now, Quinlan?”

“Thomas, bar the shed door, then let's get into Doc Spiver's house and pray the phone's still connected. We can get the cavalry here. Then we'll go find Sally.”

 

“He's mad, Amabel, utterly mad.”

Amabel was rubbing her jaw. She looked bewildered. “He's never hit me before, never,” she said slowly. “He's always caressed me and loved me. He's never hit me. I always thought it was Noelle who brought that out in him, like she made him hit her, like she was sick and needed it.”

“No, she hated it. He demeaned her, Amabel, and she stood for it all because he'd threatened to kill me if she didn't stay with him, if she didn't take his abuse. He hasn't hit you because you're not with him all that much and because if he did, you'd probably shoot him or just
leave. Noelle couldn't leave. She had to stay to protect me. Now that he's got you, he'll beat the shit out of you whenever he feels like it.”

“No. I'll tell him that if he ever hits me again, I'll leave him.”

“You can try it, but I bet he'll find a way to keep you, just like he did your sister.”

“You're wrong. You've got to be wrong. We've been intimate for twelve years, Sally. Twelve years. I know him. He loves me. The only reason he hit me tonight is because he's afraid. He's upset and worried that we won't get away. And you pushed. Yes, you made him furious. It's your fault.”

“You're nuts, Amabel. Wake up. He's insane.”

“Shush, Sally, here he comes.”

“Quick, Amabel, untie me. We can escape.”

“Now what's this? My two girls conspiring against me?”

“No, dear,” Amabel said, rising to go to him. She hugged him, then kissed him on the mouth. “Oh, no. Poor Sally thinks just because you hit me this one time you'll do it again and again. I know you won't, will you?”

“Of course not. I'm sorry, Ammie, I've been under so much stress, and you were arguing with me. Please, forgive me. I won't ever touch you again.”

“He's lying,” Sally said. “If you believe him you're stupid, Amabel. Yeah, come on, you lousy human being, come on over here and hit me again. I'm tied, so I can't hurt you much. You're safe. Come on, you pitiful excuse for a man, come and hit me.”

He was heaving with rage, the veins in his neck red and thick. “Shut up, Sally.”

“Look at him, Amabel. He wants to kill me. He has no control. He's crazy.”

Amory turned to Amabel. “I'll take care of her. I know what to do. I swear I won't kill her.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Trust me, Ammie. Can't you trust me? You have for the past twelve years. Trust me now.”

“You think he won't kill me, Amabel? He's a filthy liar. Do you want to be an accessory to murder?” Her words swallowed themselves. God, Amabel was already an accessory to murder maybe sixty times over. Maybe she'd even killed some of the people. Sally shut her mouth.

Amory St. John laughed, low and mean. “I see you understand, Sally. Ammie belongs with me. We're two of a kind. Now, Ammie, untie her feet. I'm taking her out of here.”

She couldn't stand up because her legs were numb. Amabel dropped to her knees and massaged her ankles and calves. “Is that better, Sally?”

“Why didn't you just kill me before? Why go through this charade with Amabel?”

“Be quiet, you little bitch.”

“You swear you won't hurt her, Amory?”

“I told you,” he said, so impatient that Sally wondered how Amabel couldn't hear it, couldn't know that he was ready to strike out. “I won't kill her.”

When she could stand and walk, Amory took her arm and pulled her out of the small bedroom. “Stay here, Ammie,” he called over his shoulder. “I'll be back shortly and then we'll leave.”

Sally said, “While you're waiting, Amabel, call Noelle. Tell her how you let him kill me. Yeah, tell her that, Amabel.”

He pulled her out of Amabel's sight, then sent his elbow into her ribs. She doubled over, gasping with the pain. He yanked her back up.

“Keep your mouth shut, Sally, or I'll just keep hurting you. Do you want that?”

“What I want,” she said when she could finally speak, “is for you to die. Very slowly and very painfully.”

“Not in your lifetime, my dear,” he said, and laughed.

“They'll get you. There's no way you can escape, not with the FBI after you.”

He was still laughing softly, highly amused with her. It made no sense. Then he walked beneath a strong light at the head of the stairs and stopped. He laughed again. “Look, Sally. Look at me.”

She did. It wasn't Amory St. John.

 

The phone service was still on. Thomas called the Portland office. When he hung up, he said, “They're bringing a helicopter up here. Thirty minutes, tops.”

“What about David?” Corey said.

“Jesus,” Quinlan said. “Here, let me call his wife.” David's lovely sweet wife, Jane, who'd taken him in when they cracked him over the head, who'd fed him soup. He prayed David was alive. Please, let him be alive.

When she answered, Quinlan said, “Hi, this is Quinlan. Please tell me David's there. What? Oh, no. Shit, I'm sorry. Tell his doctors that he was drugged. That's why he banged himself up. No, no, things are under control here. No, I'm going to call his office and get his three deputies here. Yeah, I'll speak to you soon. Sally? I don't know. We're going to hunt for her now.”

He hung up the phone. “David's in a coma. They medivaced him to Portland. His condition's stable so far. Nobody knows anything yet, just that he ran off the road into the only oak tree in his neighborhood. His wife was the first person to get to him. She said the doctors told her that if he hadn't been transported so quickly to the hospital he probably would have died.”

“This is a nightmare,” Corey said. “The whole damned town, all of them murderers. I want to get them, Quinlan.”

“I sure want them to lose their Social Security,” Thomas said. “No means testing.”

“That wasn't funny,” Corey said, but she laughed.

“It's Shakespearean. You know, comedy mixed with tragedy.”

“No,” Quinlan said, “it's evil. It didn't start out evil, but they've made it all the way, haven't they? Let's go find my future wife.”

 

It was Amory St. John, but it wasn't. She blinked up at him. No, the light here was excellent. “Doctor Beadermeyer changed your face, just like he did the man you murdered.”

“Yes. I didn't want to be completely different, just different enough that if an old friend happened to see me he wouldn't wonder. He did his nicks and cuts and sutures just after we got you back from The Cove that first time.” He patted his neck. “Gravity was taking a bit of a toll, but no longer. He tucked that all up, too. Would you go out with me, Sally, a young woman your age?”