Wish Club (32 page)

Claudia’s leg knocked the underside of the table. Everything on top of it was sent straight up a fraction of an inch, before landing back down in disarray, herbs spilled, crystals tumbled to the floor. Wax sloshed.

“Did you say duct tape?” Claudia said.

“Yes, dear.” Greta looked at her calmly, as if she weren’t wondering, like everybody else in the room surely was, why Claudia had just spazzed out for no apparent reason. “What is it?”

“Because I just saw duct tape, too. Like a vision, kind of. I saw a roll of duct tape, and I saw Jill and I…I got the impression something was wrong, but I didn’t want to say anything. Because you were working on Lindsay’s butt—I mean, her weight spell…and I thought I would wait to say something…because it seemed nuts, you know. Until you said something.”

Greta continued to watch her calmly. She closed her eyes and held very still. She sniffed. “I think Jill might be in some trouble.”

“Did you see something? Did you have a vision?” Lindsay asked.

“What’s the matter with Jill?” Gail asked.

“You saw duct tape, too?” Claudia asked her. Maybe her vision hadn’t been so dumb after all.

Greta shook her head. “Yes, and I sensed danger, too. It’s not clear,” she said, “but we need to close our circle and find her. Especially since two of us received the message. And the sooner the better.”

The women started to stand up before Greta motioned them back into their seats. “Wait, wait. I need to close up the circle. It’ll only take a moment.”

They sat back down and Greta picked up the athame, this time without any adverse reaction from the women. She held it out in front of her the same way she had when she had drawn the circle, only now she walked in the opposite, counterclockwise direction. She didn’t say, chant, or whisper anything as she walked. When she arrived at the place she’d started, Greta loudly stomped her foot, startling them. “The circle unbroken, even as it is opened. So mote it be.” And then, quite unceremoniously, Greta put the knife back in the large bag and began collecting the rest of her things.

The
lake sped by on the right, a black abyss, the light from the highway soaked up by the water in the first few yards before darkness prevailed. Black sky and black water met at some imperceptible horizon, one continuous flow of unending night.

Gail raced her minivan toward the exit ramp at Belmont and headed for the inner drive. A few moments later, all of them—Gail, Claudia, Mara, Lindsay, and Greta—pulled into the circular driveway of Jill’s building. Claudia jumped out and hurried inside.

Breathing hard, she huffed up to the doorman, the same arrogant doorman who’d made her wait before. “I’m here to see Jill Trebelmeier.”

“One moment please, I’ll try her.” He eyed Claudia closely and ran his finger over his mustache as he held the phone to his ear.

Claudia eyed him back.

After about twenty seconds had passed, he said, “I’m sorry, she’s not answering.”

“Could you keep trying—just a while longer?”

He nodded and said “sure,” politely enough, but the corners of his mouth had turned down into a frown.

“I’m sorry, still no answer.”

“Do you know if she’s here? I’m a little worried about her.”

“No, ma’am,” he said. “I don’t know.”

“Has she had any other visitors tonight? Do you know if Marc is here? Or was here?”

The doorman frowned at her again. “You know I’m not allowed to tell you that.”

Claudia glared at him for a moment before saying “thank you,” politely enough.

“No luck,” she said as she opened the door to the van and sat down.

“Had he seen her tonight? Did he think she was out?” Gail said.

“He wouldn’t say.”

“Perhaps we should try the studio?” Greta asked.

“Marc keeps a studio in the same building,” Lindsay said. “Maybe if there’s a directory, we could get his last name, use it to find out where he lives.”

“Do you know how to get there?” Gail looked at Greta in the rearview mirror.

“Yes, dear. Get on Addison westbound. It’s up on Ravenswood.”

Gail
drove north on Ravenswood Avenue. Extinct factories loomed on the west side of the street. The Metra tracks high up on their berm formed the other side of a dark tunnel. A train went by, all of its cars empty, its lights casting an eerie green glow. Gail turned the van onto a side street and parked in front of 4400 North.

Between Ravenswood and the El tracks, this end of the one-way street was deserted. There were only two other cars parked here besides Gail’s van, which is where they sat, looking at the front of Jill’s studio building. A dog barked in the distance.

“What should we do?” Lindsay asked.

“Find Jill.” Claudia started to open the passenger-side door. “Let’s go inside. Which studio is hers?”

“She’s in 2W.” Greta pointed to the corner of the building, but no lights were on on the second floor.

“His studio is right below hers,” Claudia said. “Isn’t that right? Lindsay, didn’t she tell you that Marc had moved in right below her?”

Their heads all turned back to the building. The lights in the studio below Jill’s were on. The only sign of life on this entire end of the street.

The women looked at each other and nodded. Emboldened now, they would find Marc and get some answers. But instead of jumping out of the van, dramatically slamming doors and marching up to the front of the building, they had to wait for Gail to very undramatically slide the minivan doors open electronically. While they were humming closed, the light in 1W went out.

The women stood outside the van, unsure of their next move. After a moment, the front door swung open and a tall man in baggy jeans and an oversized T-shirt hurried out, carrying what looked like several canvases rolled together into a tube.

“That’s him,” Lindsay whispered.

As he approached the sidewalk, Gail called out, “Hey, Marc?”

When he looked up, she continued, “We’d like to talk with you for a minute.”

He stared at them gathered together on the grass between the sidewalk and the curb, and appeared to be sizing them up. Five women of all shapes and sizes, standing in front of a minivan.

He smiled at them, a warm sexy smile.

Wow.
Claudia could feel all five of them gasp internally. Lindsay hadn’t been kidding. He
was
gorgeous.

“What can I do for you ladies?” he asked. “Do I know you?”

“Hi Marc,” Lindsay stepped forward. “It’s me, Lindsay—from Jill’s book club.”

He deepened his smile, just for her. “Oh, hey.”

His smile had the desired effect. Lindsay paused briefly before she smiled back, a little flustered. “We’re trying to find Jill. We haven’t seen her in a while and we’re a little worried about her. We know she’s been seeing you; we were wondering if maybe you can help us.”

Marc kept smiling, his face expectant as if he were waiting for more. “Help you with what?”

“Help us find Jill. We want to talk to her.” Claudia slid her glasses up her nose, holding the side of the frames, instead of shoving her index finger up the bridge of her nose the way she usually did.

“I haven’t seen Jill since we got back yesterday.”

“Got back from where?”

“New York. We took a little trip over the weekend.”

“New York? She didn’t mention she was going to New York,” Lindsay said.

“It was
spontaneous.
” He said it in a tone of voice that suggested Lindsay wouldn’t understand
spontaneous.
“We got back yesterday. Did you try her apartment?”

“She wasn’t there,” Mara said.

Claudia was standing at the front of the van, next to the curb, behind a silver Hyundai Elantra. Marc started making his way toward it, tucking the tube of canvases under his arm and pulling out a fistful of keys from his front pocket. “I haven’t seen her since yesterday, but you know how she is, needing her alone time. I’m sure she’s fine.” He smiled at them again, but now no one was smiling back. “If she calls, or if I see her, I’ll tell her you’re all looking for her.”

“We’d sure appreciate that, Marc.” Greta stepped out from her place next to Lindsay. When she spoke, his head snapped toward her, as if he were caught off guard by her voice. He smiled and nodded nervously, like a boy being chastised by his mother.

Claudia noticed the Hyundai was full. Boxes filled the backseat, a canvas next to them on the floor. More clutter and a boom box littered the rear window ledge. An open box sat on top of the pile, some books and other debris stacked hastily inside. Claudia looked at the trunk, her vision of duct tape and Jill coming back. Making sense.

“Did you drive to New York?” Claudia asked.

“No. We flew. Listen. I’d love to help you ladies more, but I really need to get going.”

“No one, not one of her friends, anyway, has seen Jill in days,” Claudia continued. “We’re worried about her. You say you took her to New York, but nobody, not even Greta, knew about the trip. Why would she leave town when her show was opening at the gallery?”

His voice turned chillier now, irritated with them. “Listen, I don’t know what she did or did not tell you. Like I said, the trip was spontaneous. I dropped her off at her building yesterday afternoon and that is the last I saw of her. I wish I could help you nice ladies, but I am in a bit of a hurry and I really would like to get going.”

“Looks like you’re leaving town.” Claudia patted her hand on the trunk of his car and his eyes flashed at her, first fear, then rage. His eyes bore into hers. She held them.

The El thundered by, its loud metallic clatter obliterating all other sound. Without answering her, Marc looked down and started sorting through his keys. White flashes of light splashed off the tracks as the El finished speeding past.

Lindsay looked at Claudia with a bewildered expression.

Claudia tugged twice on her right ear. She motioned with her eyes at the trunk of the Hyundai. Lindsay’s eyes got huge.

Lindsay looked up at Marc. “Are you leaving? On another trip?” she asked. She moved over farther, to stand in front of the driver’s-side door.

“I need to get back to Nebraska for a couple of days. My dad’s sick.” He tried his sexy smile again.

“A couple of days?” Lindsay looked down at the back seat of the Hyundai. “Even I can’t pack like that for a couple of days.”

“Listen,” he said, angry again. “I don’t need to stand here and put up with the third degree. I told you, I don’t know where Jill is. And now I’m going. And where I’m going and for how long is none of your business.”

“Somehow,” Claudia moved to stand next to Lindsay, “we all think it is.”

“You ladies are crazy.” Marc pushed Claudia aside brusquely, bumping her with his shoulder, knocking her purse to the ground, all of its contents spilling.

Claudia ignored the clutter around her feet. “I think you know where she is. I think she’s in trouble. And I think you’re the reason.”

“What have you done to her?” Lindsay asked.

“Where is she?” Mara said.

Marc stepped forward again and roughly pushed Lindsay out of his way. She stumbled off to the side.

He leaned over to unlock the door to the car and Claudia leaped onto his back, her arms encircling his neck. “You’re not leaving until you tell us where she is!”

“Jesus Christ!” Marc hissed out the words as they spun around a couple of times, sending the tube of canvases tumbling to the ground, before he was able to wrestle her arms from his neck. He twisted his body and, with a lurch, sent Claudia flying to the ground as well.

He turned around to face them, while reaching an arm behind his back and pulling a switchblade from his rear pocket, springing the blade out as he did so. It flashed at them in the dim light. This time there would be no demonstration on the knife’s harmlessness.

“Okay, ladies. Now that I have your attention.”

They held their breath in silence, statues on the grass.

“No more questions. No more accusations. I’m going to leave now. And you’re going to let me.” No one moved. “That’s better.” He held the knife up and walked backward a few steps, then crouched down to pick up the roll of canvases. When he stood back up he held a smug smile on his face.

Claudia looked up at him from where she was lying frozen on the ground.
Did I really just jump on his back? Put my butt right on top of that knife? Good grief.

Never taking his eyes from them, he opened the door to the car, threw the canvases inside, and sat down. “Good luck finding your little friend Jill.”

The last of his words were trampled by the thunder of the El flying by again, sending off more white sparks. A silver glint on the ground flashed up in its light, catching Claudia’s attention. As Marc slammed the door of his car, she dove for it.

The car rumbled to life. Claudia grabbed the compass from the ground and jammed it into the rear tire of his car just as he started to speed away from the curb.

From her stomach, Claudia watched his car fly around the corner at the far end of the block without stopping at the stop sign, tires squealing, the tail lights blurring out of sight.

“Oh my God. Are you okay?” Mara came over to where Claudia was lying, no music in her voice now.

“What are we going to do now? I think he has Jill. Is he going to kill her?” Lindsay looked from Greta down to Claudia and then back. “Did he kill her already?”

Gail had her cell phone out and was dialing. “I got the plate number. I’m calling the police. Hopefully, he won’t get far.”

Lindsay rubbed her arm where Marc had pushed her. “Claudia, what are you doing?” She looked back down at Claudia, still lying prone on the ground, as though implying she really should be more productive during these times of crisis.

“Claudia was busy saving the day,” Greta said.

They all looked at Greta, puzzled. Lindsay most of all.

“He won’t get very far.” Claudia was still looking down the street where Marc had just driven away. “I have a zero-tolerance policy, too.”

Chapter Thirty

Jill
woke to the smell of motor oil. Her mouth had been taped shut and her hands were bound so tightly she couldn’t feel her fingers anymore. She was cold, and her feet felt even colder, not just because they were tied together tightly as well, but also because she wasn’t wearing any shoes. It hurt to breathe.

She was in the trunk of Marc’s car, of that she was fairly certain. The side of her face was pressed into what felt like indoor-outdoor carpeting, and she could hear road noises under her ear, traffic sounds around her. The car dropped into a pothole, which sent a spasm of pain through her chest. At least she could be fairly certain she was still in Chicago.

The car slowed to a stop and the engine idled roughly, the muffler’s rugged vibration jarring the length of her right side. He’d beaten her pretty badly. It must have happened after the first blow because she didn’t remember any of it. Judging from the stabbing pain in her chest, he’d broken a rib or two. Jill tried to roll onto her back to relieve some of the pressure, but the pain was excruciating. There wasn’t much room in the trunk anyway. The car lurched and started moving forward again.

Where is he taking me? What’s he going to do?
Jill had never known this kind of fear before.
He’s going to kill you, Jill. That’s what he’s going to do—if he doesn’t think you’re already dead.
She tried inhaling larger breaths of air to calm herself, without success.

If she’d listened to Lindsay, she thought, then she’d be at Wish Club right now instead of waiting to die in the trunk of her crazy boyfriend’s Hyundai Elantra. Why hadn’t she noticed all the signs? Why hadn’t she listened? She could only hope there’d be time for berating herself later. Right now, she needed to come up with a plan. She tried the bindings at her hands and feet again. They wouldn’t budge.

Jill closed her eyes. For the first time in recent memory, she started to pray.

“Let’s
go,” Claudia said, getting to her feet.

“Go where?” Lindsay asked.

“We have to follow him.” Claudia pointed down the street. “C’mon, Gail, let’s get in the van. We have to follow him. Jill’s in that trunk. I know it. I just know it! We have to save her. And we need to hurry.”

“I think Claudia’s right.” Greta was nodding. “I sensed it too.”

Gail pointed her remote at the van and the doors started to slide open. She handed her phone to Mara. “Here. When they answer, tell them I got the plate number. That he had a knife and he threatened us—and tell them which way he went.”

The women piled into Gail’s van. She pulled away from the curb before the doors had slid completely shut, while the little warning beeps were still sounding.

The
sound under her ear had changed to slow tires over gravel, and Jill realized she must have passed out again. The car leaned to one side, her body angling down toward her feet now. The waterfall noise of the gravel was accompanied by a soft thwump thwump thwump. The traffic noise was gone, just the hiss of a highway in the distance.

Where are we?
They came to a stop. Silence. She could feel him moving in the front seat. The car door opened and slammed shut. Footsteps headed toward Jill. They stopped.

“Fucking goddamned bitches.”

His boots scraped the gravel, kicking some up to pelt the car, startling Jill when it loudly pinged against the side of the trunk. More silence.

“How the fuck am I going to—” Marc stopped abruptly.

Jill heard the sound of tires on gravel. Another car approaching. It stopped.
Thank God.

“Hey. What are you doing down here?” a male voice called out. “This area’s off limits.”

“I got a flat. I just pulled off the drive to take a look.”

Lake Shore Drive?
The lakefront reconstruction project had gravel roads going all through it.
Are we down by the lake?

Jill heard a car door slam and footsteps come closer, while Marc’s walked toward the front of the car.

“I wanted to get off the highway, get someplace safer to change it,” Marc said.

She could practically see the expression on Marc’s face, just from the tone of his voice, the way he tilted his head when he turned on the charm. She’d seen it work on men, too.

“I didn’t want to drive too far on it,” Marc added.

“You got a spare?”

“Yeah, in the trunk.”

“You know how to change it?”

“Yeah.”

Jill tried to make noise, to yell, but the duct tape over her mouth turned the sound in her throat to a moan. She tried lifting her feet to kick the hood of the trunk, but the pain was unbearable. She managed one soft thump, tried to lift her legs again, then relaxed them in defeat.

“All right then.” The man hadn’t heard her. “Get it fixed, then get on out of here. You should have used one of the pull-offs. You’re not supposed to be down here with the construction going on.”

Jill heard his footsteps walk away, and her panic rose as hope fell.

“He’s
leaving!” Lindsay was shocked. “He’s just driving away! What do we do now?” She was whispering even though they were still inside the van on the other side of the park, far from Marc’s Elantra.

“The police said we shouldn’t approach him.” Mara held up Gail’s cell phone. “They were adamant about it—because of the knife.”

“But why didn’t the cop grab Marc?” Gail asked. “Didn’t they put the word out yet? Should we call them back?”

“We have to do something!” Claudia said.

“All right, ladies,” Greta said. “School’s in session a little early. Keep your minds open and your brain waves clear.”

They looked at each other. Whatever you say. And with that, Greta started their first lesson in the Craft.

“Sorry,
officer,” Marc said. “Thank you,” he called after him. Jill could hear the footsteps retreating.

Oh God, it was a cop. He was right here and now he’s leaving. Jill tried to yell, to lift her feet again. She rolled onto her back, her chest in agony.

Marc didn’t move outside the car and she knew he was plotting his next move, just like she was.

The sound of the other car’s tires crunching the gravel retreated as it drove slowly away.

“Thanks for fucking nothing, officer.” Marc was still near the front of the car.

He’d need to open the trunk to get out the spare, but what was she going to do? She couldn’t attack him. She couldn’t yell, not loud enough for anyone to hear her anyway. Not if they were really down by the lake. Had Marc heard her make noise? Did it matter?

His footsteps came around to the back of the trunk. The key slid into the lock. C’mon Jill, think. Think! But the only plan she could come up with was to close her eyes and play dead. The trunk opened and a rush of air swept in.

“Well, well, well. My Jilly girl. Are we napping now?” He paused. “Knock off the act. I heard you.”

Jill opened her eyes. The light hurt but she held his gaze.

“Thought you were in for the big rescue, didn’t you? ‘Mmmpggph. Mmmpggph.’” His voice went high to imitate hers. “Did you really think some fat old deaf cop was gonna hear that shit? Lazy bastard never took five steps from his cruiser.” Marc had both hands up on the hood of the trunk, one hip cocked to the side.

He laughed. “Your pathetic little Book Club friends tried to save your sorry ass. One dumb bitch even slashed my tire. But, I’d have to say, all in all, it didn’t work out so bad. You see, it gave me this really great idea. And now it’s time for me to get you out of there, ‘cuz you’re going for a little swim.”

Marc lifted a few plastic bags out from in front of her and set them on the ground. She rolled away from him when he reached in to grab her but she was up against the rear of the trunk. He pulled her by the arms, sliding her backward across the floor before he reached under her armpits and lifted her out. She crunched her eyes closed with the pain. Her ribs hurt so much it made it nearly impossible for her to breathe, but she still tried to squirm out of his grip.

He’s going to throw me in the lake here? What kind of moron is he? The cop saw him here and there’ll be traces of my hair and clothes in his trunk. Didn’t he watch any of those CSI shows?

Jill kept squirming. “Steady, Jilly. Steady now. Such a fighter.”

The lakefront was deserted.
Where are the crazy midnight joggers?
A construction trailer sat in the dark to her left. Piles of gravel, stacks of pipes and cinder blocks littered the gravel lot. The lake loomed about thirty yards to her right.
“’Cuz you’re going for a little swim.”

Jill prayed again:
God, please send a jogger, a homeless person. Someone. Anyone. I promise I’ll be good from now on.
When the answer to her prayer wasn’t instantaneous, she started another prayer, to Saint Jude.

They
held hands in as close of an approximation of a circle as they could manage in the back of Gail’s van. In their minds’ eye, they held the image of Marc, his legs bogging down, walking through molten lead, unable to move with speed or coordination.

Greta conducted the visualization. “Freeze him. Keep imagining his legs seizing up, as if he were slogging through wet cement.”

Isn’t this black magic?
Claudia wanted to ask, but then, fearful she might disrupt the spell to save Jill, she refocused her thoughts and kept her mouth shut. Perhaps later they could find time to discuss the finer points of witchcraft ethics. Right now, they needed to stop Marc from hurting Jill.

“Take the energy through yourself,” Greta continued, “draw it up from the center of the earth, through your feet. Make it a cold beam, a laser of ice-blue light coming from each of you—joining together at the center of us and then shooting out and into Marc. Shoot it into his core. Have the beam of icy light hit him and envelope him. Focus on the legs now. That’s it. That’s it…Mmm-hmm. Mmm-hmm. Very good. That’s very good.”

Can she see it? Can she see a beam of light?
Claudia had been trying to focus for all she was worth, but still, it seemed too beyond belief to consider. She allowed herself a peek at Greta’s face. Her eyes were closed, a hint of a smile on her face.

She seemed very pleased.

Marc
carried Jill half over his shoulders as he hurried her toward the water, every step sending a shooting pain through her ribs. Jill started to cry. She didn’t want to die. Not like this.

The water’s dank fish smell grew stronger, and he started to slow down. They must be getting close.

Jill opened her eyes. Marc had slowed to a walk, but they were still about twenty feet from the edge of the lake. She felt him waver underneath her, as if he’d lost his balance for a moment. He weaved in place, like a drunk, then put a foot forward. It seemed to be taking a lot of effort on his part. He put his other foot forward with a grunt. He was walking as if his legs were encased in cement, like in those dreams where you need to run but can’t make your legs move at all.

Jill started to squirm again, and she could feel his arms try to wrap more tightly around her thighs, but there was no pressure behind them, no strength.