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Authors: Ellen Hart

BOOK: Night Vision
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“I know. Dogs and kids belong together.”
“Speaking of Hattie.” She reached into her pocket and removed her cell phone. “She should be home from preschool by now. She usually calls me.” Flipping it open, she said, “Well, lookey here. Seems that while we were in Luberman's place of business, I got a call from my dear sister.” She pressed a few buttons and then listened to the message. When she was done, she flipped the phone closed. “Huh.”
“What?”
“She's coming to town.”
“Really? When?”
“She just said soon. She wants to introduce me—and you, by the way—to the new love of her life.”
“Goodie. Can't wait. If she marries the guy, this will make it an even half dozen, right?”
“She won't marry him.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It might interfere with her movie career. That, Janey, comes first, last, and in between. She needs to be free to charm her way into the bedrooms of the powers that be.”
“Boy, you really don't think much of her.”
“She'd use anything necessary to climb her way to the top. And since she's growing older by the day, the quickest way to cut through all the red tape is with, shall we say, the
personal
touch.”
It all sounded so sordid. Jane understood that Cordelia often painted Octavia with a blacker brush than was strictly necessary. Octavia was already rich, having inherited Hattie's father's legendary wealth. So this wasn't a money grab. It was Octavia's professional ambition that drove her. And her ambition, her need for success—as everyone around her knew—was immense.
“I'm sure the new boy's beautiful and crazy about her,” said Cordelia as they rounded the turn onto Little Turtle Road. “They always are.”
The house sat on a small bluff overlooking the lake. Woods circled around behind the property and thinned out as they reached the service drive. A deep-green lawn spread out in front of the house all the way down to the beach. A wide wooden dock jutted out into the bay, with two boats tied to the end. The large white one looked new, part fishing boat, part pleasure craft. The word PRO-LINE was printed on the side. Jane judged that it was probably a good twenty feet long. The other boat appeared to be a handmade houseboat. It was much smaller, maybe twelve feet in length if you counted the pontoons it rested on from end to end. The house part of it didn't look much bigger than eight by eight. And the motor itself was smaller, possibly quieter. It looked beat up, like it had been used hard for a long time.
“Come on,” said Jane. “Let's check the place out.”
The grass around the cabin had been recently cut. Up the hill, a section of woods was in the process of being cleared. Luberman had cut and neatly stacked logs from the trees he'd removed. He must have had a recent fire because the smell of wood smoke lingered in the air.
“Nice place,” said Cordelia.
“Secluded,” said Jane.
The cabin was two stories high with a steep gable facing the water. Windows covered the front, from the ground all the way to the tip of the gable, allowing for a panoramic view of the lake.
Jane climbed the steps to the deck that ran across the front of the cabin. Luberman had spent some bucks, not only on the boats but also on some expensive outdoor furniture. A new stainless steel gas grill sat next to what had probably once been used as a potting shed table but was now part of his outdoor kitchen. Wildflowers were tied together in bunches, hanging upside down on metal hooks jutting out from the house, drying in the afternoon sun. Clay pots had been lined up along the edge of the deck. A few contained the usual hothouse flowers—New Guinea impatiens, dahlias, begonias. But on the whole, Luberman seemed to favor succulents and cacti.
Jane stepped up to the window, cupped her hands around her eyes, and looked through the glass. All the furniture had a northwoods feel to it. The walls were covered in knotty pine. A Native American blanket rested on the back of the leather couch. Next to the wall-mounted plasma TV was a rifle rack. Next to that hung an assortment of old, rusted tools. The place seemed comfortable enough. Nothing was out of order. If Jane hadn't known
what
Gordon Luberman was, the cabin and the surrounding grounds would have made her think the man who lived here might be an interesting person to get to know. She shivered at the thought.
“Down here!” called Cordelia.
Jane turned and saw that Cordelia was standing on the aft section of the houseboat. “What is it?”
“Just come here.” She was leaning over, examining something on the floor.
Jane jumped off the deck. As she did so, a flash of sunlight glinted off something up near the top of the service drive. She paused, her heart racing as she visually inspected the area. Nothing was moving. She couldn't see a car or a truck. She hadn't heard one, either. She stood a minute longer, watching the trees. Whatever it was that had caused the reflection had left her feeling unsettled.
“Janey, hurry up!”
With one last sweep of the road, Jane hurried down to the dock. She immediately saw what had captured Cordelia's attention.
“It's an oversized cooler,” said Cordelia.
“They use them for fishing.”
“Do fish bleed?”
“Sure.”
“Oh.”
Cordelia had read nearly every play that had been written in the English language, but when it came to the natural world, she wasn't going to win any contests. She'd once asked Jane if radishes grew on trees.
“Why?”
“Because there's dried blood in here. I'm sure of it.”
“And?”
“Well, if Luberman
did
kidnap, murder, and then dump the body, this would be an easy way to do it.” She looked up, her eyes traveling over the water. “It's deserted out here. There isn't another dock or cabin in sight. He could do anything he wanted and be completely unobserved.”
“He did it once before and it worked. Why not do it again?” said Jane. “But wouldn't you think the cops had already thought of that?”
“Maybe, but if they couldn't get a warrant to search the place, they wouldn't know about the blood.
We
can tell them. Once they know, they talk to a judge, get a search warrant, test the blood for DNA, and while they're waiting for the results, they arrest Luberman on suspicion of murder.” She clapped her hands together as if that was the end of the story.
“Doesn't work like that. We're trespassing. I don't think they can use what we found to get a warrant.”
“Well, damn. They should just dredge the lake. At least they'd be doing
something.
”
“The chest was in plain sight,” said Jane, thinking about it a little more. “But you had to take the cover off to see the blood.”
“No I didn't. I noticed the blood
on
the cover. That's why I opened it up.”
Jane would have to talk to Nolan. He knew the legalities much better than she did.
“Come on, Cordelia. I think we should get out of here.”
“Why? We just started.”
The queasy feeling in the pit of Jane's stomach was getting worse by the minute. It might not mean anything, but if Luberman felt even the least bit ill at ease about the conversation they'd had at his office, if he had any sense that Jane and Cordelia were part of a tail, then his next move might be to drive around and see if he could find them. Stopping by his house would undoubtedly be part of that search.
“I saw something up on the road. I'm not sure what it was, but if it was Luberman, he could have seen us.”
“Oh.” Cordelia flew off the boat. “I'm with you, Janey. Let's hit the bricks.”
Jane sprinted across the grass to the service road. Cordelia followed, but at a slower pace. When Jane reached the top, she looked around. All was quiet. “You doing okay?” she called, turning around and waiting for Cordelia to catch up.
“I just love rushing up a hill when I'm terrified. Really gets the old juices going.” The look on her face suggested she wasn't having any fun at all.
“I'm going to run ahead,” said Jane. “But I'll stay within earshot. If I see or hear anything, I'll let you know.”
“I'll do the same,” said Cordelia, bending over and resting her hands on her knees.
Jane took off at a moderate clip. Half a mile wasn't far. Cordelia had parked around a bend in the road, so she wouldn't be able to see the car until she was right on top of it. She realized now that parking it there had been a mistake. She quickened her pace when she began to smell gasoline. Maybe it was a boat out on the lake, but she doubted it. She should have been able to hear a motor and she couldn't. She stopped for a moment and sniffed the air. The smell was strong now. Knowing in her gut that something was wrong, she took off at a dead run. As she burst around the bend in the road, she saw that her rental car was on fire.
“Mouse!” she screamed, feeling her heart go crazy inside her chest. If she didn't get to him before the gas tank blew, it was all over.
Edging closer, she tried to see him in the backseat, but thick, black smoke was beginning to rise in bitter clouds, obscuring her vision. A gust of wind forced the smoke over her. She tried to wave it away, but it was all around her, inside her, stinging her eyes. She backed off, coughing so hard she thought she'd throw up. She was about ten feet from the car when the gas tank caught. The explosion knocked her flat on her back. Crawling away from the inferno, she screamed, “Mouse! I'm trying!”
She scrambled to her feet, but she couldn't move. She stood at the edge of the road, watching helplessly, hands balled into fists, screaming her dog's name until she had no voice left.
Finally, knowing that it was hopeless, she dropped to her knees, unable to take her eyes off the fiery ball. She felt like someone had taken a razor and sliced her heart in half. Her mind went numb.
As the fire began to burn down, she sat down in the dirt, pulled her knees up to her body, folded her arms around them, and began to rock. It was all her fault. The words “He trusted me” hammered at her. Her fault. Her fault.
“Janey?”
She looked up, saw Cordelia standing over her. At that moment, a feeling of total and absolute hate washed over her. “Luberman torched the car,” she said, her voice hoarse.
“God.” She stood for a moment, taking in the scene.
Jane pressed her eyes shut. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She wiped them away, seeing that they'd mixed with the soot on her face. Her hand was covered in an oily blackness. Cordelia sat down in the dirt next to her, circled Jane's waist with her arm. That small act of kindness broke something inside her. She rocked forward against her knees, sobs racking her body. “I'll kill him,” she said, choking on the words. “I'll kill him.”
Neither spoke for several minutes.
Finally, Jane wiped the arm of her jeans jacket across her face and looked up at the sky.
“Do you think,” said Cordelia. “I mean, could Luberman still be hiding out there behind a tree somewhere?”
“He's gone. He probably stuck around long enough to watch my reaction. I'm sure that's how he gets his jollies.”
Cordelia stared down at the dirt.
Except for the creaking of the white-hot car frame, the road was quiet again. All around them, the normal woodland sounds were returning.
After another couple of minutes, Cordelia said, “It's all my fault, Janey. I shouldn't have used an English accent.”
“No, it's not your fault. I made the decision to go in there and talk to him. If anyone's to blame, it's me.”
Deep in the woods came the faint sound of a bark.
Jane swiveled around. “Did you hear that?”
“What?”
She moved into a crouch. “There it is again.” Rocketing into the woods, she headed toward the sound, jumping over dead logs, sidestepping trees. “Bark again!” she screamed. Her voice seemed to have returned. “Mouse, I'm coming.” She knew it could easily be another dog—probably was.
As she ducked under a low-hanging branch, she spied a clearing about a hundred yards ahead. “Mouse? Bark again. Louder!” She ran flat-out. The barking did get louder, more insistent. She felt sure it was him now. If Luberman was holding him captive, she'd deal with it.
Reaching the clearing, the only living being in sight was her dog. He was attached by his leash to a section of clumped birch. When he saw her, he began to jump in the air and yip. He seemed as wild to see her as she was to see him.
“Mouse,” she said, sliding to her knees in front of him, grabbing him up in her arms, never wanting to let him go. “Oh, baby, you're alive!” She buried her head in his fur. He licked her face, her hands, her hair, her ears. “You're alive,” she repeated again and again, the tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

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