Blackout (32 page)

She raised her fist and shook it at the hole.

The phone rang and Alice jumped, positive her nerves couldn’t stretch any tighter.

Betty backed away from her mother’s door, her hand over her mouth, moaning slightly. Her eyes fell on the sitter, and she grabbed the woman’s arm. “Why did you leave?” she demanded. “What happened in there?”

“I…I don’t know. When those two came in, your mother told me to go.”

“Why? Did she say why?”

The sitter appeared confused. “No. It was that the older woman wanted to talk to her alone. Mrs. Cranston told me to leave. I told her you wouldn’t like it, but she insisted.” The sitter pulled her arm from Betty’s grasp.

Betty let her hands fall to her side and closed her eyes a moment. That made her dizzy, so she opened them again. “You can go. Go, and don’t ever come back here.”

Quickly, the sitter picked her stuff up off the floor and hurried down the hall. Betty scowled at the door. She wanted desperately to try it again, but she was scared. More scared than she’d ever been before in her life.

“What’s going on?” Joyce asked softly.

Betty had forgotten she was there. “I don’t know.”

“What should we do?”

A good question. “Call the police, I suppose.” Betty’s confidence in that agency was near zero. “Joyce,” she said, “I want you to do that. I’m going to see about something else. Ask for Jerod Cranston—he’s my nephew. Tell him I told you to call and what the situation is. Say it’s urgent.”

“Right away. Anything else?”

Betty thought quickly. The fewer people who knew about all this, the better. “Wait for the police up front, and bring them to me. I’ll be in Katherine’s office. Just knock on the door, and I’ll come out.”

“All right.” Joyce hurried toward the rotunda, and Betty headed for the administrator’s office. She knocked on the locked door, and Donald asked who was there. When she told him, he opened the door and then sat down in front of the five monitors on Katherine’s credenza.

“Hi, Betty,” he said, barely looking at her, his eyes staying on the screens. “I wonder what’s going on in Betty Senior’s room. Brenda and Alice went in and the sitter left.”

“I know.” Betty sighed. “Donald, it’s Brenda. Brenda’s the one.” She squinted at the screen, wishing it was bigger, wishing they had sound, too. “She has a gun.”

“What?” Donald’s eyes swung toward Betty, his expression incredulous. Quickly, he looked back at the monitor. “I don’t see one. What do you mean? She’s the killer? Brenda? Why?”

“I don’t know.” Betty collapsed into a chair next to Donald. “I guess because she’s crazy. Nuts. What other reason could she have?”

Donald shrugged, still staring at the screen. “She’s never seemed psycho to me,” he murmured.

“No,” Betty said slowly, “but something else. False somehow. A fake. That voice she uses when talking to the residents. Like syrup.”

“Yeah,” Donald agreed. “She’s stiff, too.”

They watched her moving about the room in her high heels, back straight, talking to Betty Senior and Alice. Betty studied Brenda, searching for anything that would explain her actions. “There’s something else about her,” she said. “Like I’ve known her before. But—” She gasped.

Brenda had pulled the gun from her pocket and put it against Betty Senior’s head. Betty felt her heart begin to race out of control. “No, oh, no,” she moaned, clutching her chest, wanting to close her eyes, but unable to, mesmerized. “We have to do something!”

“There’s nothing we can do,” Donald said. “If we go barging in—”

They watched as Brenda took the gun away from Betty Senior’s temple and slip it back into her pocket. They both took in gulps of air, looking at each other, then back to the screen.

“The police,” Donald said. “Have you called them?”

“Joyce is. They should be here any minute.”

A siren wailed in the distance. Betty hesitated, wanting to be at the door when the police arrived so she could explain everything quickly, but wanting to stay so she could watch her mother. She decided to remain where she was. Joyce would bring them. They’d come in a hurry.

Jerod and Allen arrived, and a slight sense of relief washed over Betty. She asked Joyce to go stand by Betty Senior’s room. Surely the police could do something now.

“Are there only the two of you?” Betty asked.

“Everyone who’s on duty’s here, Aunt Betty.”

Betty, Jerod, and Allen joined Donald in front of the monitors and watched while the two policemen asked question after question, some twice. Are you sure she has a gun? Do you know what kind, what caliber? Are she and Alice in it together?

Donald and Betty looked at each other, for a moment believing that could be possible. Anything could be possible. But no, Alice had signaled Joyce.

Do something
, Betty’s mind screamed.
Get her out of there!
They wanted to know all about Brenda. Could they see her employment file? They’d run a computer check on her. Impatiently, Betty went to the phone and called Jenny and told her to bring the file STAT. Then she went back to the monitor and watched and answered some more questions. They saw Brenda shake her fist at the camera.

“She knows about the video camera,” Jerod said. “Let’s call the room and see what she wants.”

Betty’s heart began hammering in her chest again. What could she want? Why was she letting them know she was the one? And why had she picked on Ma and Alice?

“I think you should call her,” Jerod said to Betty. “This appears to have something to do with you and Grandma.”

Thin frown lines surrounded Jerod’s eyes, Betty noticed. He was worried, too. She patted his arm. “Pull that phone over here and set it on the floor. I’ll use the speaker.”

She dialed. One ring. They saw everyone in Betty Senior’s room stare at the phone. Two rings. Three.
Come on, Brenda, answer
. They seemed frozen—obviously they’d stopped talking and listened to the ringing.

Four rings. Five.

Finally, Brenda picked it up. They could see her say “Hello.”

“Brenda, this is Betty. What’s going on?”

“Get off the speaker, and I’ll tell you,” Brenda said, her voice crisp and calm.

Betty looked at Jerod. He shrugged. Brenda controlled everything. Damn him, she thought. He’s about useless. Then she chided herself. What could he do, after all? She pushed the button to take them off speakerphone.

“All right,” Betty said. “Now no one can hear except me.”

“Exactly the way I want it,” Brenda said.

Betty waited, staring at Brenda’s black-and-white image on the monitor. She appeared perfectly composed. A madwoman, Betty thought, a chill running down her back, overwhelming her with dread.

“My name is Jessica Cantrell,” Brenda said. “I believe you may remember me.”

“What?” Betty exclaimed. “You can’t be.”

“But I am. A few pounds gone, a nose job. You never guessed, did you?”

“Never,” Betty admitted, staring hard at the monitor. She almost let the phone slip through her fingers. She remembered her last conversation with Jessica Cantrell. The woman had been distraught, screaming at Betty that it was her fault her mother died. She recalled the quivering chins, the dirty hair and fingernails, the scuffed, flat shoes. How could such a person become Brenda?

Despair washed over her. Someone who could plan such a scheme, and Betty could see it all now, was evil. She saw the other deaths as the prelude to her own mother’s murder. There seemed to be no way to stop it. No way at all.

“I guess you know why I’m here,” Brenda said, her voice dripping honey.

“Yes,” Betty whispered.

“What? I can’t hear you.”

“Yes,” Betty said louder. “Tell me what you want.”

“I don’t want anything from you anymore.” Brenda’s voice became cold, hard. “What I did want was good care for my mother. You didn’t give me that. So I think you should pay. Tit for tat.”

“No, you can’t! Ma’s done nothing to you. Neither did your other victims. Don’t you see it’s crazy?”

“Don’t use that word with me.” Brenda glared at the camera lens. She switched the phone to her other ear and reached into her pocket. Pointing the gun at the overbed light, she said, “Be careful what you say, or I’ll shoot out the camera. Then you won’t know what’s going on!”

“But my mother’s done nothing to you,” Betty said again.

“She’s useless, though, like the others. Everyone will be better off without them.”

“How can you say that?” Betty’s whole body ached with tension. “You loved your mother, and even when she became what you call useless, you didn’t want to lose her. Please…” She lowered her voice. “Don’t do it. It won’t help you to do it. It will only hurt you more.”

Brenda shook her head and put the gun back into her pocket. “I can’t hurt any more than I already do.”

Betty couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Keep her talking,” Jerod whispered.

Betty nodded impatiently. Should she plead with her? Reason with her? She had to be careful or she’d set her off again.

“Brenda,” she finally said into the phone, staring hard at the monitor. “Isn’t there anything I can do to stop you?”

Brenda raised her face toward the camera. “No,” she said and hung up the phone.

“Now we wait awhile. Make her sweat,” Brenda said, satisfaction in her voice. “Sorry, Betty. Not really your fault, except you are her mother.”

Alice shivered again. She looked at Betty Senior to see her reaction, but her face was slack, her eyes half-closed.

Brenda stood up and went to the window, opening the drapes while remaining carefully to the side. After a moment she let the material fall back in place and began walking back and forth on the other side of Betty Senior’s bed.

Behind her fear, Alice realized she needed to think of something, anything, to change the situation.
I’m the only one who can save Betty Senior
, she thought, awed and scared.
Pay attention.

She watched Brenda pace. Brenda was short and thin, but her calf muscles were firm, and Alice bet she worked out, so she’d be strong. Even pacing, she seemed to be in command of the situation, sure of herself.

Alice’s eyes roamed the room. Nothing suggested itself as a weapon, except perhaps the bookends on the shelf at the other side of the room. The bathroom door stood partially ajar, and Alice tried to remember how it looked. She’d only been in there once to get Betty Senior’s toothpaste and brush. Shower, sink, toilet, cabinet and… dumbwaiter. Her heart seemed to skip a beat. Did Brenda know? Probably not, she thought. She’d never have a reason to go in the bathroom, and if she wasn’t interested in the old part of the nursing home, she most likely didn’t know. Alice tried to remember if Brenda had ever seemed curious.

Brenda checked her watch and stopped pacing. “Another hour, Alice, and your father should be here. What’s his name?”

“Sam,” Alice said softly, wetting her lips with her tongue. “Can I get a drink of water?”

“Of course,” Brenda said, but followed her to the bathroom and watched her scoop water into her hands and drink.

The dumbwaiter was where she remembered it, the door looking like any other cabinet. But she realized it wouldn’t do her any good at all. Brenda obviously wasn’t going to let her out of her sight. And she didn’t know if she’d be able to leave Betty Senior.

Back in her chair, Alice watched Brenda pace some more. Suddenly she stopped in front of Betty Senior and said, “What room are they watching the monitor in?” Betty Senior didn’t answer. She glared at Brenda with her mouth clamped shut.

“Tell me,” Brenda demanded. When Betty Senior still didn’t answer, Brenda took the gun from her pocket and pressed the muzzle against the old woman’s temple once again.

Alice held back a gasp.

Betty Senior sighed. “Katherine’s office.”

As Brenda put the gun back in her pocket, Alice had a sudden flash of memory.

In the kitchen, standing next to her father, facing her grandparents. The gun in her father’s hand. He’d raised it menacingly while her grandparents huddled together in defiant fright.

Her feelings had been confused. She hated them for what they’d done to her parents, but they’d raised her, loved her as best as they could. Her grandmother looked at her pleadingly, and suddenly she didn’t want justice or revenge. She only wanted them all to be a family.

So, as her grandfather took a stumbling step forward, Alice turned to her father and pushed his arm. The gun went off.

Alice flinched at the memory. What would have happened if she hadn’t intervened? She’d never know. She studied Brenda and Betty Senior. Did she dare interfere again?

Brenda had Betty on the phone. “Here’s what I want,” she said. “A car with a female driver to take us to the airport. Four doors, make sure the driver is small. Have the trunk open when we come out. Have the driver in the car. She’ll take us to the airport where there’ll be a small plane, a Metro, ready. Fuel tank full. I’ll tell the pilot where we’re going after we’re airborne. In the plane I want a suitcase with one million dollars, small bills.” She listened a minute. “Of course you can get a million. A million for a life is cheap.” She listened some more. “Yes, I’ll take Alice with me. She’ll be released unharmed if you do as I say.” She paused again, fingering the gun in her pocket. Her eyes slid to Betty Senior and remained there. “What do you think? I’ll make it as quick and painless as possible. Of course, you’ll have to live with the pain. Don’t worry. It never goes away, but you learn to compensate.” She put the receiver down and stared at the wall.

Alice couldn’t look at Betty Senior.

“Brenda,” Alice said softly. The woman met her gaze, her eyes bleak. “Please, don’t do it. Why make more people unhappy? Hasn’t Betty suffered enough already?”

“No.” Brenda stood up abruptly. “An eye for an eye. It has to be evened out, you see.”

“Lives can’t be even,” Betty Senior said from her bed. She sounded calm. “No one feels like you do. No one feels like I do. What you want is impossible.”

Brenda glared at her. “It’ll be close enough.”

A sense of helplessness overcame Alice then. What could she do to stop it? She couldn’t think of a thing.