Paws and Effect (19 page)

“So why didn't you name Hercules Kevin?” I could see she was trying not to laugh.

“So I could avoid having conversations like this one.”

Hope did laugh then. “How's that working out?”

Just then we came level with an area where the brook widened and the water was much shallower. Several large rocks made a bridge of sorts to the other side. “I'm pretty sure this is the spot,” I said.

The rocks were wet and slippery but we both made it across safely.

My shoes were oozing water. So were Hope's. “Are they your new running shoes?” I asked, pointing to her neon-yellow-and-green footwear. Hope was training for another triathlon. Marcus had convinced her to buy new shoes with fancy inserts that had been custom made in Minneapolis.

Hope looked down at her feet. “I knew spending all that money on these things was a bad idea.” She looked around. “Which way do we go?”

“That way,” I said with a confidence I didn't completely feel. I pointed more or less northwest. If Hope thought I was lying again she kept that to herself.

We walked for another twenty minutes or so. Hope was the first to spot the lean-to up ahead of us in a small clearing. A rough road curved away from it off
to the far left side. The lean-to looked more like a section of an old barn left after the other half had collapsed. I had my fingers crossed as we made our way closer, and then I spotted it.

“The Jeep is there,” I said to Hope.

“Stay here,” she said, holding up one hand.

I stopped where I was while she made her way carefully closer, bending low to study the front end of the vehicle. Finally she turned and looked at me. “There's front-end damage, Kathleen,” she said, and I could hear the excitement in her voice. She pulled her phone out of her pocket. “I'm going to take a couple of pictures and we can get out of here.”

“I don't think so,” a voice said, and John Keller stepped into the clearing.

H
ope's hand moved almost imperceptibly.

“Don't even think about it,” John said, gesturing with the gun in his right hand. “I can shoot your gun right out of your hand. In fact, I can shoot you in the hand before you can even get the gun out, and then shoot Kathleen in the hand just because she really irritates me.”

Hope held up both hands, palms facing John. “Okay. No gun. But you know this isn't going to work.”

“Do they teach you to say that the first day of cop school? Because I have to say it's pretty lame.”

“Gerald Hollister may be willing to lie about renting you that Jeep,” I said. “But when they find our bodies out here, shot to death, he won't keep covering for you.”

John smiled at me like he was a teacher and I was his star pupil. “Very good, Kathleen. However, you missed two key points. One, your bodies aren't going
to be out here and two, I'm not going to shoot you, as tempting as that might be.”

“So what are you going to do?” I asked.

His wet hair dripped onto his face but he didn't seem to notice. “Right now I'm going to get Detective Lind's gun.” He looked at her. “Pull it out nice and slow. Two fingers. Try anything funny and I'll shoot Kathleen.”

Hope took out her gun as John had directed.

“Toss it over here,” he instructed. “If you throw it too far or too short, like I said before, I'll have to shoot Kathleen.”

“I thought you said you weren't going to shoot us,” I said. My stomach clenched but I tried very hard not to let him hear the panic I was feeling.

John nodded. “Good point, Kathleen. I did say that. Shooting you would mess up my plan, but I will do it if I have to.” He gestured at Hope with the gun. “Throw it, and remember, accuracy counts.”

Hope lobbed her gun in his direction and it landed on the ground at his feet.

John crouched to pick it up and tucked it in his waistband. I couldn't help hoping it would somehow discharge and shoot him in the foot. “Now toss me your cell phones.”

I looked at Hope. “Do it,” she said.

I threw my phone underhand at John. He caught it in midair. “Nice,” he said to me. Hope tossed her phone over as well. It landed once again at his feet. John picked it up and put both phones in his pocket. “We're going to take a little walk.” He looked at me. “Back the way you came.”

That meant back in the direction of Wisteria Hill. Back in the direction of help.

“You too, Detective,” I heard John say.

We trudged through the trees as the rain came down, soaking through my jacket. My shoes and jeans were already wet. I promised myself a warm pair of socks and a huge cup of hot coffee when we got out of this. I wasn't going to think about the possibility that we
wouldn't
get out of this.

“Why did you kill her?” I heard Hope ask behind me.

I turned and looked back over my shoulder. Hope had stopped walking and was looking at John.

“You think I don't know you're trying to stall,” he said. “Wherever you went to school, you should ask for your money back.”

“If you're going to kill me I'd at least like to know why I'm going to die,” I said.

“You think I want to do this?” he asked.

“No, you probably don't.” My hands were shaking and I stuffed them in my pockets so he wouldn't see. “And I know you didn't want to kill Dani. You loved her.”

“Yes, I did,” John said. He lifted the gun so it was in line with my midsection. “Walk.”

We continued in silence for a while, John directing me when he thought I was trying to veer from the path. We were headed back to Wisteria Hill but I had no idea why.

“She didn't see that you were the best person for her,” Hope said. “Not the other two. You.”

“I loved her.” John's voice was low and filled with emotion. “Why couldn't she see how good we could have been together?”

“I know,” Hope said.

I slowed my pace a little so she could close the gap between us, hoping John wouldn't notice.

“No, you don't,” he said.

“Marcus doesn't see how good we could have been together,” Hope said.

I looked back at her but she wouldn't meet my gaze. John had stopped walking. Hope and I did as well. “You and Marcus?” he asked. “Stop screwing with me.”

“I'm not.” Hope's voice was laced with something. Longing? Pain? I wasn't sure. She started moving again and so did I.

“Did you tell him?” John said suddenly.

“Not in so many words,” she said. “But . . .” She let the end of the sentence trail away.

“But what?”

I heard Hope sigh behind me. “It doesn't matter,” she said flatly.

“But what?” John asked even more insistently.

“But he should be able to see that I'm the one who loves him the best. How can he not see that?”

“She was the same way.” He meant Dani, I knew. “Travis heard her talking to someone on the phone about coming here to see Marcus. I knew what it meant. She'd been secretive for a while. I knew she was going to try to get back together with him.”

“You told her how you felt,” Hope said.

I couldn't hear their footsteps, I realized. I took a chance on turning around again.

Hope was facing John, hood pushed back, rain dripping from her hair. “We have history,” Hope said. “Why doesn't that mean anything?”

“She said I didn't really know who she was at all.” John gestured again with the gun.

Hope moved closer to him, taking a tiny step as she nodded at his words. She was going to rush him, I realized. I wasn't a police officer but I knew he'd shoot her before she ever got the chance to get his gun. Hope was strong and fit, but John was bigger.

“I knew her better than anyone. Who helped her pass organic chemistry? Who cleaned up the mess when she screwed Marcus? You know what she did? She told me to get out of her life and then she just walked away. I just . . . I was just trying to catch up with her. I didn't mean to hit her.” He gestured with his gun hand again and his voice got louder in the silence of the rain-soaked woods. “It was her fault. She just should have loved me.

I looked at Hope and thought of Owen. She had the same coiled energy as he did, ready and watchful in the backyard before he launched himself on a squirrel or a bird. I had no way to stop her. At least I could help distract John.

“Love isn't an obligation,” I said. “Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage. Lao Tzu said that.”

John took several steps closer to me so he was less than an arm's length away from Hope. “Want me to
shoot her?” he asked. His eyes never left my face but I knew he was directing the question at Hope.

“It won't change anything,” she said.

My heart pounded in my ears and my chest was so tight I couldn't breathe. The gun was level with my head. If John decided to pull the trigger anyway I was dead. Then, finally, he lowered his arm.

And Hope made her move.

John had seen it coming. Somehow he'd seen it coming. The hand holding the gun arced sideways and caught her on the side of her head. She staggered and he kicked her right leg out from under her. Her arms flailed in the air as she tried to get her balance but her foot caught in a protruding tree root and she went down. I lunged to catch her but I was too late.

I bent over Hope. Her eyes were closed and there was blood in her hair on the right side of her head. I felt for a pulse, grateful to feel her heart pounding even faster than mine. I reached in my pocket, pulled out a couple of Kleenex and pressed them against the gash on Hope's head.

“Get her up,” John ordered.

“She's unconscious,” I said, not looking at him. I was so angry I was afraid I'd do something stupid and get us both shot. Every minute longer was another minute I could use to figure a way out of this.

“Then carry her or drag her. I don't care.” He spit out each word.

My anger boiled over. “Neither one of those is going to happen,” I snapped. If he hadn't had the gun I would have hit him. “So either you wait until she
comes to or shoot us, because those are the only two choices you have. And if you shoot a police officer they will hunt you down like a rabid dog until someone puts a bullet in
your
head.” I was breathing hard and I could feel flecks of spit on my lips.

Hope's eyes fluttered and opened. “Way to build a rapport, Kathleen,” she rasped.

Rain had soaked the tissues pressed to her head. I took my hand away. It didn't seem to be bleeding anymore but the skin was already swelling and darkening.

I helped Hope sit up slowly. Her eyes rolled and for a moment I thought she was going to pass out again.

“Move,” John barked.

“Wait,” I retorted.

“I'm all right,” Hope said. “Give me a hand.”

I helped her get to her feet. She grimaced as she put weight down on that right foot. “Let me look,” I said. I bent down and rolled up the bottom of her jeans. Her ankle was already swelling. I probed carefully with my fingers and Hope sucked in a sharp breath.

I stood up and wiped my hands on my wet jeans, which really didn't do any good. I looked at John. “Her ankle might be broken. It's sprained at least. She can't walk. Just leave us here and go.”

“I can walk, Kathleen,” Hope said. “Let it go.” There was warning in her eyes.

“Let me help you,” I said. I put my arm across her back, taking as much of her weight as I could, and we started moving again.

It was slow going. The rain continued to fall and the ground was slippery and uneven. I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and not letting Hope fall. Her breathing came in ragged gasps. I glanced over at her. She was gritting her teeth and pain was etched in the lines on her face.

She caught me watching her. “Hunt you down like a rabid dog?” she whispered, and her mouth pulled into a semblance of a smile.

“Best I could do in the moment,” I said.

“If you get a chance to get away—” she began.

“—I'm taking you with me,” I finished.

“You two planning some way to best me?” John was right behind us, so close I fancied I could feel his breath on the back of my neck, which in reality was impossible because I had my hood up.

“Yes,” I said.

Hope pressed her lips together. “You're so bad at this,” she said.

“You set Marcus up,” I said. I wasn't trying to stall. I needed to hear John confirm everything. I needed to stay angry so we'd stay alive.

“Yes, I set Marcus up.” John's voice was smug.

“You hacked his phone. You made it look as though he'd sent those texts to Dani.”

“And they say the Internet is a waste of time,” he said.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “What I don't get is how you planted the key chain?”

He laughed but there was nothing humorous about the sound. “That was just a spur of the moment thing.
The drive-in logo broke off my keys. Then I realized I could leave it there and all I had to do was get one from Travis or Marcus to replace mine and send the police in another direction. That night at Marcus's house when I used his bathroom I saw his keys on his dresser. Since he had taken Dani away from me again, it just seemed like poetic justice.”

I didn't say anything. It was clear something was broken in him.

We kept walking. I lost all concept of time. We could have been moving for five minutes or two hours. Hope's face was pale and wan and the rain had washed a trail of blood from her hair down the side of her face. Not only was I fairly sure she had a broken ankle, I thought she had a concussion, too.

I looked around, trying to get my bearings. We were on Ruby's property, I realized finally, not that far from the old camp, which meant we weren't that far from Wisteria Hill. The thought gave me hope. I shifted a bit more of Hope's weight onto me.

“Where are we going?” I said. I could feel John, still no more than a step behind us.

Ding, dong, bell,

Pussy's in the well.

Who put her in?

Little Johnny Flynn.

He recited the children's nursery rhyme in a singsong voice.

A well? Was there a well somewhere on this land?
All I could think of was a dark, cold, small space. I bit down hard on my tongue so I wouldn't vomit. Or scream. I was claustrophobic.

“Stop!” John ordered. We stopped walking. Hope sagged and I lost my grip on her. She dropped to the ground. I bent down to help her up.

“Leave her,” he said.

I turned to look at him. I wasn't a violent person. I believed that words were better for solving problems that fists, but in that moment if John Keller hadn't had a gun I would have taken a swing at him and not lost a moment's sleep.

He was using one foot to scrape wet leaves off of something on the forest floor. It was some kind of plank square: the cover to the well, I was guessing, based on the weathering of the wood.

An iron ring was bolted to the middle of the wooden cover. Eyes and gun on Hope and me, John bent down and pulled the cover up. I smelled dampness and dirt and must.

Panic rolled over me like a wave. I squeezed my hands into tight fists.
Roma will come home,
I told myself.
She'll find the car and Hercules. Someone will find us.

I made myself look at John and fought to keep the panic from carrying me away. We were going to get out of this.

He laughed. The ugly sound wrapped around the trees.

“What's so funny?” I asked.

“Your stupid Pollyanna optimism,” he said. “You still think you're going to get out of this.”

I bent down and helped Hope to her feet again. Her skin was even grayer, if that was possible.

“I know where the two of you parked,” John said. “The lake is very deep, you know.”