Saltar's Point (31 page)

“YOU’RE NOT STRONG ENOUGH YOU BASTARD!”

No I’m not strong enough, not yet, but soon.

He would exercise patience and bide his time. Her chair still sat idle at the bottom of the stairs and he intended to make sure she could not get to it. Darrow would be home soon and perhaps his rage would be great enough that he would finally kill the sniveling insignificant bitch. Besides he might not have to soil his hands with her putrid blood when Jack Darrow just might do the deed for him.

THIRTY-THREE

The letter read:

Abby Darrow

1529 Baker St.

Saltar’s Point, WA 98692

Dear Ms. Darrow,

Recently a lawsuit was filed on behalf of Jefferson county residents with disabilities against Jefferson County for discrimination in their hiring practices. For years Jefferson County has been negligent in the hiring and promotion of people with disabilities for county funded public positions. This negligent behavior is in direct violation of the people with disabilities act passed by federal congress. Jefferson County Superior Court has ruled in favor of the plaintiff, ordering Jefferson County to pay damages to any resident of Jefferson County with disabilities who has suffered either directly or indirectly from these negligent actions.

Even if you have never worked for Jefferson County you may be eligible to collect a portion of the settlement worth in excess of five million dollars. The settlement monies minus legal fees will be divided equally between all qualified respondents. Settlement shares are estimated to be between ten and fifteen thousand dollars.

As legal council for the plaintiff I am in charge of collecting legal signatures for all plaintiffs involved in the suit. Please contact me directly at (800) 555-1846 to obtain information on how to claim your share. I look forward to speaking with you soon.

Best Regards,

Brad Jennings

Jennings, Smith, and Cooper Attorneys at Law LLC

“You think he’ll bite?” Randall said after reading the copy of the letter.

Peterson gave him one of his patented wry looks. “Oh, he’ll bite of course. Greedy son of a bitch like that isn’t going to let the opportunity for free money pass him by. I can guarantee you that.”

Peterson was getting excited. It was hard to tell, but Randall had been around him long enough now to pick up the tiny striations in his voice that belied his calm demeanor. He took a long drag on his cigarette and expelled the smoke in a long wheezing exhalation. The new guy seated at the far end of the Jefferson County Police department conference room table had been introduced to Randall as Detective Ryan Connelly. He was about thirty-two years old with thinning reddish brown hair and a well-kept goatee. Unlike the other detectives who were impeccably dressed in expensive suits and Italian shoes, the young detective wore baggy jeans and a faded Polo shirt that he wore untucked at all times. He was tall, nearly six foot four with a stocky build. Despite his intimidating physical appearance Randall noted that he carried himself with a quiet unassuming manner, not the cocky swank attitude of the other detectives.

Connelly worked undercover, mostly on the drug and gang task force. It was dangerous work, not for the feint of heart. If any undercover operation went bad or if the dealers and gang bangers ever caught him wearing a wire they would kill him, no questions asked. Life was hard on the streets and it took a hard cop to put himself in harm’s way just to take a little hash or meth off of the streets. As a result, under cover cops or UC’s tended to be a little on the dark side. Pessimism by way of experience. Randall couldn’t blame them.

The operation was to go down as follows. Contact information had been provided in the form of a phony business card included in the letter and an eight hundred number set up to a private cell phone just for this purpose. Connelly would pose as the attorney and carry the phone with him at all times. When Darrow made contact he would insist on talking with Abby in person and obtaining her signature in order for her to collect the bogus money. Once inside the mansion he would insist on interviewing Abby separately for legal reasons and attempt to solicit any information that might prove useful to the investigation. In addition Connelly would look for any visual clues or trace evidence that he might be able to collect without arousing Darrow’s suspicions. It was a simple yet strikingly effective plan.

“What do you think Connelly? You’re the one going in.”

Connelly shrugged his shoulders in indifference. “Sounds fine to me. Never played a lawyer before, it should be a nice change of pace.”

“Better than risking your ass in some of those drug dens anyways.” Peterson added between drags of his cigarette. “We’ll wire you up so anything you can get out of either Darrow or his wife will be available for scrutiny later. Of course there really is no way to get a backup car close due to the fact that the mansion has so much private property and any other vehicle would tip him off in a second, so you’ll be on your own.”

“I’ve been in worse situations. I can handle one surly old drunk guy, even if he is a killer.”

“Darrow’s a dangerous man, believe me, and there’s something strange about that place too, it’s a giant maze that’ll give you creeps, so stay vigilant.”

“Look Jackson, this is what I do okay? I can handle it.”

“I hope you’re right, for your sake.”

The nightmares were bad enough, but the daymares were a thousand times worse. They came on suddenly and without warning, flashing out of the blue like a thunderbolt on a clear summer day. At first she was convinced that they were withdrawal symptoms, her body’s way of protesting the lack of chemicals, but when they not only persisted but also became more frequent and intense, Ellie began to get worried.

The last one had been especially vivid. It happened in the kitchen around one O’clock. Randall wasn’t there of course; they never seemed to occur when he was with her. She had been cooking Aiden’s lunch, (a grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of Campbell’s tomato soup), when she collapsed. As her body trembled in convulsions on the linoleum her mind shook with images in her head. They were never like normal dreams, no dialogue, no interaction, no self-visualization, just a series of images flashed in front of her like a rapid slideshow. It was difficult to describe to anyone and each one was different than the one before, but one thing always remained constant: the image of the little girl horribly disfigured with burns covering her entire body and a woman in a wheelchair held captive against her will.

Aiden had found her this time, the thing she had feared most. He had been playing with his Lego set in the living room when he heard her hit the floor. Immediately he had run to his mother’s aid, screaming and trying desperately to wake her. His small hands shook her shoulders and his tears dripped upon her face, but there was nothing he could do to bring her back to reality except to wait for the episode to pass. When she came to she had been gone for fifteen minutes according to the clock on the stove. It had been a fairly short one this time, and for that she was grateful. Aiden’s grilled cheese had morphed into a small lump of coal and the soup had long since boiled over onto the stovetop leaving nothing in the pan but seared black residue that swirled into the air in dry wispy puffs. The smoke detector was blaring, piercing her skull with repetitive blasts of high-pitched shrieks.

“Mommy, are you okay? Mommy?”

Aiden continued to shake her with all of his might. It took her a second to register his voice and then she looked at her son and saw the terror in his eyes. “Yes baby, mommy’s okay. I just had a fainting spell is all.”

She got up from the floor and pulled the food from the stovetop and clicked off the burners, and then she retrieved a dishcloth from a counter drawer and began to fan the smoke away from the detector. It took several minutes before the smoke had dissipated enough for the device to silence itself. The ensuing quiet hung in the air with an eerie disposition. Ellie knelt down and threw her arms around her son. He was cold and rigid and a thin sheen of perspiration clung to his skin making him tremble.

“It’s okay baby. I’m all right. Everything is going to be just fine, you’ll see.”

“And will Abby be okay too?”

His words stopped her cold. “Where did you hear that name?”

“You were screaming it.” He looked down at his sneakers afraid to make eye contact, as if he had heard something that he wasn’t supposed to. “You were yelling that you had to help Abby.”

“Well sweetheart, mommy just had a bad dream that’s all. Come on I’ll start you a new sandwich.”

She ruffled his hair and rose to her feet, trying to act nonchalant. Aiden wasn’t buying it. Ellie grabbed the burnt sandwich with a pair of tongs and tossed it in the garbage beneath the sink. Then she opened a window to let some fresh air inside. She wiped the back of her hand against her brow, which was glistening with perspiration. She was exhausted, the nightmares had been robbing her of sleep and made her cranky and irritable. The last thing she wanted to do was cook another sandwich.

“Hey, I got an idea. Why don’t you grab your coat and we’ll head over to grandpa’s store for a hamburger, how does that sound?”

Aiden’s face lit up. “Really?”

“Yeah really.” She tickled his ribs. “Now go on scoot.”

“Yeah!” Aiden went screaming from the room in his excitement. Ellie had been trying to get Aiden into some healthier eating habits, but today she guessed would have to be an exception. “What the hell?” She said to no one in particular as she grabbed her purse off the counter. “One time won’t kill him.”

Outside it was a typical blustery day. The light mist of rain swirled about them as they walked and formed small puddles on the ground. Aiden delighted in jumping in them and creating mini mud tidal waves that crashed out from beneath the soles of his sneakers. The last one was a little too big and the mud came down in small droplets on the toes of Ellie’s shoes.

“Damn it Aiden. Stop doing that.”

“Sorry mom.”

“My gosh look at you you’re covered in mud.”

She bent down and slapped at his pants trying to knock some of the mud free, but the more she tried the worse she made it, smearing the mud instead. While Ellie was bent down, inspecting Aiden’s pants a seemingly non-spectacular event happened. A car passed. Well not exactly a car but a van, and when the van passed Aiden made eye contact with the driver. The man inside the van looked mean. Aiden didn’t like the way his head followed him as the driver went by, twisting his neck to keep his eyes on him as long as possible. And his eyes were mean too, they were bad eyes. He was happy when the man in the van was gone.

Ellie stood up and inspected her work. She let out a small sigh. “When we get to grandpa’s you’re going upstairs young man and get into some clean clothes.”

“Awe but mom, I like these clothes.”

“Well then you shouldn’t have gotten them all muddy now, should you?”

“No mom.”

“You’re just lucky I remembered to keep some fresh clothes there.”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him along. It only took another ten minutes to arrive at the store but when they did they were soaked to the bone. Cletus looked up as the screen door slammed shut behind them.

“Well hey there. Didn’t expect to see you guys today. Come on in, get out of the rain.”

“Thanks granddad.” Ellie managed to say as she stripped off her wet coat. “We’re going to head upstairs and get out of these wet clothes, and I hate to ask but, Aiden hasn’t eaten yet so…”

“Say no more, I’ll fire up the grill and throw a burger on. You up for that Aiden?”

“Yeah, burgers!” Aiden pumped his fists up and down in a fit of joy.

“Okay, tough guy, let’s get you upstairs.” Ellie scooped up Aiden and carried him to the second floor. Cletus tried to control the smile that had spread across his lips.
It sure would be nice to have the energy of a five-year-old again. He exited to the bar side and turned on the grill and the deep fryers. The strong aroma of searing grease filled the air, making him hungry himself, perhaps he would fry himself up a burger too.

From the store side Cletus heard the screen door bang again and knew that he had a customer. An honest day’s work seems like it is never done, he sighed to himself and headed for the storefront. As he came through the door he saw one of his favorite regular shoppers. Belinda Dawson was sitting in her wheelchair and weaving deftly around the aisle with amazing dexterity.

“Looks like you’re getting the hang of that thing after all.”

She looked up at Cletus and flashed a Crest poster perfect smile. “Yeah I guess you could say that. Can you believe I resisted this thing for so long? I mean my goodness I feel like a kid again.” She pressed the control lever forward for emphasis. The one point five horsepower motor whirred as it propelled the chair forward, she turned the handlebars sharply and the chair did a quick 360 in the small aisle.

“Awe now you’re just showing off.”

Belinda was a true local, born and raised right in this small town. Cletus wondered if she had ever even been out of the county and he was willing to wager good money that she had not. She had been the town sweetheart, crowned Miss Saltar’s Point when she was seventeen and married David Dawson just one year later. Four years ago she began to have numbness in her hands and legs. The doctors had hoped that she might have a slow progressing form of the disease but the Multiple Sclerosis had turned out to be aggressive and two years after her diagnosis at the age of thirty-six she had been confined to a wheelchair. Dave had been nagging her to let him purchase a motorized chair for quite some time when she began to have difficulty maneuvering her manual chair but she had resisted, not wanting to admit submission to her worsening illness. Finally when her mobility had become extremely limited, even around the house, she relented, and Dave bought her the chair just two weeks later. Now she wondered how she had ever done without it.