Since You've Been Gone (44 page)

“Yes, Doug, isn't it wonderful!” She smiled radiantly. “I didn't really find him. Sean did.” Sean sat looking at Doug. He knew Doug. Doug was making no threatening moves, so the dog was not alarmed. “I can't believe it. And he's still alive!”

“He's alive?” No exuberance. Nothing.

“Yes. But he's very sick. We have to get him to the hospital immediately.” Rebecca began moving slowly toward the door. “I don't understand why this place wasn't searched when he disappeared.”

“The cabin was searched. Not the hiding place.”

“Why?”

“No one knew about it.”

“Not even Esther?”

“Guess not. Whispering Willows was her husband's place. He was weird. He had a lot of secrets from her. My dad told me.”

“But you knew about it.”

“No. I just followed all the noise.”

“I see.” Clearly a lie, but she had to act as if she believed it. “Well, Doug, we really have to get Todd to the hospital. He's extremely sick. I think he's dying.”

Doug stood immovable, turned slightly to the right to face her. The cabin door hung three fourths of the way open behind him, but he made no move toward it or toward her. He simply stared at her, then at the bundle in her arms, his eyes dead, his face haggard, ravaged. “Larry's dead, you know.”

“Yes, I know. I think he was the kidnapper. He was killed before he could pick up the ransom money,”

“No, he was killed because he was trying to blackmail the kidnapper. There was no other way to shut him up. But Lynn will never get over it. Never.”

Rebecca's ploy wasn't working. Doug was not going to pretend he wasn't the kidnapper, wasn't going to help her get Todd to the hospital, wasn't even going to let her out of this cabin. He was going to shoot her right here. Then she and Todd would both die. Her only hope was Frank.

“My arms are cramping,” she said truthfully. “I have to put Todd down for a minute.” Doug said nothing as she lay Todd's limp body on the floor. This time his eyelids did twitch, although he didn't open his eyes. But at least he was still alive.

Rebecca stood slowly and stretched out her arms, rubbing them. “Do you know how happy Molly is going to be? I think she'd given up after the failure of the ransom.” Did Doug hear the tinny cheerfulness in her voice, the complete falsity of her relief? “This is a miracle, Doug.”

“But Skeeter's dead. And Miss Vinson. And Larry. Todd will probably die, too. He's so sick.”

He looked at the prone child and his eyes filled with tears. How could he cry? Rebecca wondered. How could the son of a bitch stand there and cry after all he'd done? But this was no time to analyze him. Her gaze swept his body, a body only a couple of inches taller than hers, a body grown overweight and flabby. Soft. His gun hand began to tremble. His shoulders sagged.

Rebecca steeled herself, then lunged. Less than ten feet separated them. By the time Doug had lifted his eyes, she was a foot away. She turned slightly, gathered all her strength, and drove her right shoulder into the edge of his right shoulder. He grunted, staggering against the edge of the open door that gave with the force of his body and swung with a crash into the wall. Rebecca swept past him, not looking back to see if he'd fallen although she heard the gun hit the wooden floor. She was out in the open, running as fast as she could, screaming “Frank!” at the top of her voice.

She veered toward Esther's house. Knowing there were animal holes, she kept her eyes on her feet, determined not to fall. In mid-stride a large copperhead slithered beneath her descending foot. She managed to prevent herself from stepping down on it, but the sharp movement sent her stumbling. She caught her balance and began to run again, without thought heading straight for the pond. “Frank!” she screamed hysterically. “Frank!”

The pond loomed directly ahead of her. The pond. What had she been thinking? Now she would have to go around it instead of heading in a straight line. Rebecca lurched into the tall grass, planning to make a quick cut to the left, back toward the house, right before a heavy weight threw her to the ground with a thud.

Doug. He'd knocked the air from her and she lay facedown, almost paralyzed for a moment. “Stop running,” he huffed into her ear. “You don't have to run.”

Her breath came back with a sharp pang. She reached
forward, digging her hands in the dirt, and pulled herself forward, Doug still on her back. She kicked but she could not dislodge him. His fingers dug into the nerves at the base of her neck, sending pain coursing through her, rendering her motionless.

“Rebecca,
stop it!”

Where was Sean? He could help divert Doug if not really hurt him. Unless Doug had killed the dog. He probably had. After all, he was letting Todd lie in the cabin and die. Another victim. Another
kidnap
victim. She drew in her breath. “You took Jonnie,” she rasped.

A groan wrenched horribly from Doug. “Yes. So easy. The camping trip. He went off in the woods to pee. With the stun gun it was so easy.”

Rebecca felt no rage. Only the dull ache of depthless regret. “Why? Oh God, Doug, why?”

“Drugs,” he panted. “Lynn and me. So strung out. Larry gone to prison. No money. I thought she was going to die.”

“Lynn
helped
you?”

“No. She didn't know. Still doesn't know.” Rebecca thrashed, clawed into the dirt again and dragged herself a few inches closer to the pond. “Needed money. So simple. Get ransom.” He gasped for air. “Put him in a cave until morning. But I almost didn't get him out of there fast enough. Searchers came too fast. The dog found us first. I had to kill it.”

Poor Rusty, Rebecca thought. He'd broken away from the first search party and gone howling through the woods, searching for his beloved master. His body had been found near a cave where police thought Jonnie had been kept for a few hours.

“After I got the ransom, I meant to just drop off Jonnie. He didn't know who took him. Nobody the wiser. But the FBI came. Saw them at the drop. Couldn't get money.” He sobbed. “It all went wrong.”

The pond. So close. Rebecca hoped people who could not swim under normal circumstances could manage in a panic. In the water she'd have an advantage. She could get
Doug off of her. And by then maybe Frank would find her…

“Frank!” she screamed again.

Doug hit her on the side of the head, stunning her. “Shut up! I can't let him find you. Or Todd—”

Rebecca had clawed until she was within arm's length of the pond. Still slightly dazed, she pulled forward until she slipped into the filthy water. She'd pushed off into one of the deeper sections of the pond and sank into mud, with Doug still on top of her. The long, sinuous leaves of pond-weeds and hornworts wrapped around her legs and arms, binding her to the airless bottom.

She kicked uselessly. Doug's hands felt as if they were all over her, pulling, dragging. With the expenditure of energy, her ability to hold her breath was getting weaker. His must be, too. She stopped fighting, trying to make him think she'd lost consciousness. She hung in the water, his hands under her arms, suspending her. Two seconds, four seconds, eight…

Abruptly she felt Doug's hands release her. Miraculously she was free. She fought to the surface, gasping desperately for air, and opened her eyes, looking directly into Doug's face. She pushed away from him, off to the left toward the bank of the pond. “No!” he shouted, his gaze fastened on something beyond her. And then she heard what sounded like a roar. Doug's head snapped back. Blood gushed from a gaping hole in his throat. Slowly his eyes glazed over as the life drained out of them. Then he sank back into the murky depths of the pond.

Rebecca started to scream, mindlessly, over and over. She fought to stay afloat amid the dull red slowly spreading around her but she was exhausted, horrified, unable to think. In the water was quiet. In the water was peace. In the water … Something grabbed her and she flailed against it.

“Rebecca, stop fighting me! Rebecca, it's Frank. You're drowning! Go limp!”

And she did. Her muscles relaxed, and the lulling water
flowed around her, pulling her down into sleep and dreams. Then arms dragged her out of the water, roughly over the edge of the bank, through the cattails, and out onto the grass. Someone pushed on her chest until she coughed and spit water, rolling partially on her side.

“Rebecca! Dear God, are you all right?”

She didn't want to open her eyes. She never wanted to open them again. But she did. And there was Frank, his gaze anxious, his face white. “Frank,” she mumbled. “Frank, it was Doug. He's been shot.”

“I shot him,” Frank said dully. “He was drowning you. I didn't mean to kill him. I'm not a good shot. I just meant—” His voice broke. “He was murdering you. You're not the first. Oh, dear God, forgive me.”

“Frank, I found Todd,” Rebecca gasped. “He's in the cabin—”

“Todd? You
found
Todd?”

“Yes.” The clouds in Rebecca's mind began to clear. Words, terrible words, echoed. “You said I wasn't the first person Doug tried to murder.” Her eyes widened. “You knew he took Todd, didn't you? And you knew Doug killed Jonnie. Frank, how
could
you have sat by and—”

“And let him get away with it all?” Frank turned anguished eyes on her. “I didn't know who'd taken Jonnie until it was too late. I was trying to get Doug off drugs. I cut off his money so he'd go to rehab. I never dreamed he was so desperate and crazy he'd kidnap Jonnie. But after Jonnie went missing, Doug started acting strange. I got suspicious. We had an old hunting cabin in the woods about thirty miles from here. I went there. Jonnie was dead. Doug was hysterical. He said after the ransom pickup failed, he decided to just let Jonnie go and make his own way home. But Jonnie was weak. Doug said he found him about half a mile from the cabin. He'd fallen and rolled down a rocky hill. That's why he was so battered. He was dead. When I arrived, Doug had already dumped the body downtown and returned to the cabin. He didn't know where to go, what to
do. He was in heavy withdrawal, shaking, vomiting. I thought he was going to die, too.”

“But he came to the funeral. He was all right.”

“I got heroin for him. Enough to get him through the funeral. Then he supposedly went back to college. Only he really went into rehab. Lynn, too. When he came out, he was a different person. Or I
thought
he was a different person.”

“But you didn't
tell
anyone, Frank. You didn't turn him in for killing Jonnie!”

“He didn't kill Jonnie! It was an accident! He'd done something crazy under the influence of heroin. He didn't really know what he was doing. It was too late to change anything.” His eyes were tragic. “He was my son, Rebecca. My only child. Can't you understand?”

No, she didn't understand. Not really. But there was no time to talk things out, no time for reparations now.

“Frank, Todd is in that cabin,” she said coldly. “He's ill. Terribly ill. He's dying. We have to get him to the hospital.” She clutched his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin on her cold hand. “We don't have time to call 911. We have to get him in your car and … and …”

Pain stabbed at her temple. The familiar pain that preceded a vision. She tried to hold on to the present, but Frank's face faded. The sunshine disappeared. Suddenly she was in another consciousness, one racked by pain, barely able to breathe, unable to see, but still able to hear. Incredibly, in this consciousness Frank's voice yelled furiously, “What the hell have you done?”

“I only wanted money. I didn't want to hurt him.” Doug's voice, shaking and weak. “But I didn't get the money. We've got to get him back home. He's sick!”

“Got to get him back
homel
Are you insane? He's
dying,
you fool.”

Jonnie's consciousness, Rebecca realized. She was hearing what Jonnie had heard up in that lonely cabin where Doug had taken him.

“At the hospital they can save him,” Doug said feebly.

“And he can tell everyone that his stepbrother Doug kidnapped him.”

“He doesn't know. He never saw me.”

“He
heard
you. He knows your voice.”

“No. I disguised—”

“You're too screwed up to know what you did. Don't tell me he doesn't know. I'd bet my life he does.”

Doug began to cry. “I'm sorry. I had to have money. I'm in bad shape.”

“You stupid idiot! Do you know how hard I worked to get us to where we are? Do you know I
killed
a man to get us here? Do you know I married that fool of a woman and lived with her all these years to
keep
us here? And now you do
this?”

“I didn't mean … Killed a man? Who did you kill?”

“Patrick Ryan. Did you really think I was in Pittsburgh? I knew he was going up that damned hill to look at some property. I came back secretly, I waited, and I shot his tire. I didn't know Rebecca would be with him. I didn't want to kill her. She's the child I
should
have had, not a sorry specimen like
you,
just like your stupid, screwed-up mother. But it worked out. I made it all work out. And you are
not
going to ruin it!”

“But how do we fix it?” Doug wailed.

“This way.” Metal clanked. What was it? The pokers at the fireplace? Then Doug screamed, “No! No!” And something crashed down onto Jonnie's head. Once and the pain was intense. Twice and merciful darkness descended.

Rebecca felt as if she were floating away into a void. There was nothing but darkness and silence. Then the darkness slowly lifted. Sunshine drenched her, warming her skin that felt cold as death. Frank's face hovered above her. Frank, still looking at her with such tragedy, such concern. Frank, whom she now realized was the murderer of Jonnie, of Skeeter, of Matilda, of his own son. She was in mortal danger. And so was Todd. Her head pounded and she was shuddering, but she tried to look back innocently. It didn't work. The shock of the vision had been too much. Frank
gazed deeply into her eyes. Then he frowned sadly. “Oh Rebecca, I'm so sorry.” He pulled a knife from his pocket, unsheathed the long blade, placed it against the thin skin of her neck covering the carotid artery, and smiled. “I never wanted you to know what really happened.”