Scare the Light Away (29 page)

What had Kyle Taylor learned?

“If your dad felt that way why did he let her work for Jim?” Kimmy asked, her voice so calm she might have been asking a question at the church women’s group.

“He didn’t like it, but Jennifer made a big fuss and said she’d quit school if Dad wouldn’t let her learn to be a carpenter, and Mom said it would be all right long as Ry or me was around.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Kimmy said. “What went wrong?”

“Ry didn’t want to go back this year. It’s a fuckin’ boring job and hard work too. Can’t imagine why Jenny likes it. Stupid girl. Good money, though. But if Ry isn’t gonna be there this summer then I don’t wanna be hanging around babysitting.” Now he sounded like a petulant child, whining because he couldn’t have a second piece of chocolate cake or stay up past bedtime. A petulant child Kyle might be, but he was still a petulant child waving a loaded gun in our faces.

“That must have been tough,” Kimmy said. “But I don’t quite see how she managed to get herself killed.”

My hackles bristled at the wording. Jennifer didn’t “get herself killed.” Her brother killed her, perhaps with the collusion of their father. But I guessed where Kimmy was heading, and I kept my mouth shut and my eyes on the barrel of the gun.

“They had a big fight. Jennifer and Dad. When Ry told him that he wasn’t going to work for Jim this year, and I said that I wasn’t neither. So Dad said that she would have to quit too, and she said she wasn’t going to. She said Jim was a nice man and he was teaching her to be a carpenter. Dad got all mad and said she was acting like a common tramp.”

“What did your mother say?”

“Oh, Mom pretty well goes along with whatever Dad says. But this time she stood up for Jennifer. Said she was a good girl and wouldn’t get herself into trouble. Dad didn’t say nothin’, but we all knew that he wouldn’t be able to stop her doing what she wanted. Not any more.”

Aileen fingered the rich wool of her sweater, feeling the edges of the cold, hard knife stuck into her waistband. I widened my eyes and jerked my head toward Kyle, hoping to send Aileen a signal. I didn’t really give a rat’s ass why Kyle murdered his sister, and I didn’t know why he was here, lying in wait for my brother, who he didn’t seem to know had been arrested for the murder. I certainly didn’t care how stupid Kyle was, nor did I want to hear the sordid details of his troubled childhood. I wanted to bash him over the head with the fireplace poker while Aileen got him with her lovely sharp knife. I wanted to get my dog to the vet and Jason to his mother.

I looked at Kimmy. She read my face and blinked once. A nod. “But why did she die, Kyle?” she asked, sounding as if she cared.

I stretched and shifted in my seat.

“Dad said she was no better than a whore.”

“And I’m sure she wasn’t,” Kimmy said, her voice oozing with sympathy.

“But she wouldn’t let me do her.”

Kimmy sucked in a lungful of air. “Oh, God,” she whispered and the pretence of sympathetic listener cracked.

I stood up and walked with great care toward Jason and Sampson. Toward the big stone fireplace.

Kyle didn’t appear to see me move. His eyes were fixed on the image locked inside his own head. “She laughed at me, the bitch. So I shut her up, good.”

Kimmy sobbed and buried her face in her hands. The spell was broken. Kyle’s head jerked back and he saw me, creeping across the room. But he was too late; I wasn’t going to stop now.

Chapter 48

Outside a car pulled up with a loud squeal of tires on wet gravel and brakes applied at the last minute. I instinctively glanced toward the window, although with the curtains pulled shut there was nothing to see. Kyle leapt off his chair, grabbed my arm and threw me off balance. “Where the hell are you going, bitch? You sit back down. Now.”

A rap at the door. Loud, decisive. Kyle turned the gun on Jason. But his empty eyes were fixed on me.

“Police, Mrs. McKenzie.”

Silence. Sampson was too far out of it even to whimper. But still her chest rose and fell under the red-soaked yellow towel.

“Police, Mrs. McKenzie. We’d like to talk to you for a moment, please.”

Kyle pointed at me.
Get rid of them,
his lips moved.

The police knocked again. “We’re looking for Rebecca McKenzie. Her father said she was here.”

I opened the door. Constable Rosemary Rigoloni stood in the doorway, Dave LeBlanc behind her and slightly to one side. The rain fell in a steady torrent. Visibility was so limited, the edges of their patrol car blurred into the rain and mist. The lake and road had disappeared completely.

“Good afternoon, Ms. McKenzie.”

“Here I am,” I said, rolling my eyes like a mad woman at an orgy and drawing the edge of my hand across my throat. “What’s up?” I pointed to my chest, tucked three fingers into my palm, held my index finger out straight, and made the hand-jerking movement with thumb held perpendicular that everyone knows as imitating the firing of a gun. Could Kyle possibly be so stupid he wouldn’t expect that I would try to warn them?

Rigoloni stiffened, every muscle in her body coming to attention. Her hand went to her gun belt.

I shook my head. “I’m here with my nephew Jason, Aileen and Kimmy Wright, I mean Michaels.” I made the shooting gun gesture once again, this time pointing at Rigoloni. “We’re sitting in the living room having a nice chat.”

“Just checking, Ms. McKenzie. Glad everything’s fine.”

Behind me Kyle hissed, telling me to hurry up.

“Have a nice afternoon. Please give the Taylor family my regards.”

Rigoloni’s eyebrows twitched at that and a question creased her forehead. With her face full on me, I closed my eyes and shut the door.

We listened to the heavy tread of police boots tromping down the steps, LeBlanc’s murmured question and Rigoloni’s light laughter. The engine roared to life and their car pulled away.

“Well done,” Kyle said. “You get to live a bit longer.”

Aileen fingered the buttons of her sweater and Kimmy moaned. I returned to my seat.

“Shit,” Kyle exploded. “I have to go to the can.” He looked at us, three middle-aged women sitting in a line on the living room couch and one little boy comforting a gravely wounded dog. “Kid, come here.”

Jason hesitated.

“I said come here.” Kyle crossed the room in two steps and jerked the boy to his feet. Sampson’s head hit the floor with a thud as the support of Jason’s arm was pulled out from underneath it. The dog groaned and her eyes flicked open. Kyle held the gun to Jason’s temple. “I’m gonna have a leak. One of you bitches so much as breathes too heavy and I’ll plug the kid. Understand?”

“We understand,” Aileen said.

Kyle stood in front of the fireplace, unzipped his pants and pulled his penis out. The gun remained firmly planted against Jason’s head. The scene was so ridiculous that I almost laughed. But if I did, Kyle would shoot Jason.

Never laugh at the penis of a man who is threatening you with a gun.

If I live through this I will publish that bit of wisdom.

Had Rigoloni understood my wild gestures? Was I too confident about my own ability to communicate without words? Why did she laugh as they walked away? Was she laughing at me?

Sampson heard it first. Her ears twitched and she tried to lift her head, but the effort was too much and with a grunt she collapsed back onto the towel. Soon we could all hear it—tires crunching on gravel, doors slamming, men scurrying for cover, a whispered shout.

The cavalry.

Kyle ran to the window and ripped the curtains to one side. “Fuck it,” he screamed. Once again he jerked Jason up off the floor. “Get rid of them, kid.”

Jason yelped and Sampson growled, as much of a growl as she could manage.

“You can’t get rid of them, Kyle,” I said. “They obviously know something’s happening here.”

He wrapped his forearm across Jason’s chest and lifted so that the boy’s toes weren’t touching the ground. “What did you say to them, you bitch?”

“Me? I didn’t say anything. You didn’t hear me say anything, did you? They must have had someone creeping around the back while we were talking at the door. They’re so sneaky.”

Jason’s eyes were wide with terror. His fingers, small, chubby, and streaked with my dog’s red blood, scratched at the muscular arm squeezing his chest. His oversized running shoes waved in the air, seeking solid ground.

“Let the boy down, Kyle,” Kimmy said. “You’re hurting him.”

Kyle loosened his hold and Jason’s feet reached the floor. He slipped out of Kyle’s grip, took a deep breath and returned to Sampson’s side.

The phone on the table beside Kimmy rang. Wide-eyed she passed it to me.

“Rebecca McKenzie speaking.”

“Ms. McKenzie, this is Inspector Eriksson. Are you in some danger there?”

“Yes.”

Kyle ripped the phone out of my hand. “Who the hell are you?” he growled into the receiver. Kyle listened for a moment and then slammed the phone down.

It rang again.

He picked it up.

“I want Jim McKenzie here,” he said. “You find him and tell him I have his wife and sister and I’ll kill the loud-mouthed sister in half an hour, if he isn’t outside.”

A tinny echo as Eriksson shouted into the phone. Kyle slammed his end down.

“Hear that?” he said, waving the barrel of his gun at me. “Time to get this show on the road.”

“That wasn’t much of a threat,” I said. “Jimmy McKenzie wouldn’t cross the street to pick me out of the gutter if I had anything less than a hundred dollar bill lying underneath me. You must have heard what they say about us around here, Kyle. Why do you think I haven’t set foot in this town in more years than you’ve been alive?”

He had enough sense to look confused. No doubt he had heard all about my family history. From the sound of things, his dad, the bastard, would have been happy to educate him.

“Then I’ll kill her, the wife, next.”

“You’re running low on hostages. The cops will be in here at the sound of a shot. You don’t think the police in this town care much what happens to the McKenzie family, do you? Probably be glad to get rid of us all.”

“Aunt Rebecca, you’re wrong,” Jason squealed. “My dad’s friend, Mr. LeBlanc, is a police officer. He’ll help us.”

How could I not smile?

The phone rang again. Kyle knocked it out of the cradle.

“You have to stop and think, Kyle,” Kimmy said. She had regained her composure and her voice sounded soft yet strong, with the considerable authority of motherhood behind it. “Of what you want to happen now. The police are outside. I don’t know where Jim is; they might not be able to find him. He might have run away.” Aileen and I exchanged glances. “You decide what you want to do, Kyle, and I’ll help you.”

“What about Sampson?” Jason cried. “She’s bleeding again. You have to help Sampson.”

“What harm can it do?” Kimmy said. “Let the dog go. The phone’s still working. Tell them I’ll carry her out. And then I’ll come back.”

I stared at her.

“You won’t come back,” Kyle said.

“I will. I promise. I’ll take her to the bottom of the steps and then I’ll come back to the house. I promise. Can I make the call?”

She didn’t wait for his reply, but picked up the phone. There was no need to dial. They were listening.

“We have a dog in here,” Kimmy said, not bothering to identify herself. “Seriously wounded. I’m bringing her out. She’s big so I might have trouble carrying her. Please don’t interfere. I’ll put her at the bottom of the steps and then come back into the house. You can send one officer to get her. I’ve given my word on this.”

Kyle slammed his hand down onto the cradle.

Kimmy handed me the receiver and crossed the room. “Help me pick her up, Jason,” she said. “Sampson seems to trust you.”

Sampson was unconscious again. She twitched as the fat woman and the boy struggled to lift her. I moved to help them, but with a growl Kyle told me to remain where I was. Kimmy staggered under the weight. Bright red blood had soaked into the hardwood floor. So much blood. How much could the dog have left inside her? Aileen slipped an arm around my shoulders. Jason held the door open and stepped back. Kimmy staggered under the weight of her burden. I could see what was happening; Kyle’d left the curtains open. The rain had slowed to a steady drizzle, and the mist thinned enough so that we could see cruisers lining the road, black hats and rifle barrels poking up from behind cars. One officer broke away from the rest and moved forward. LeBlanc. He was dressed in a flak jacket and his hand rested on his gun belt. From where I sat I momentarily couldn’t see Kimmy for the porch supports.

LeBlanc broke into a run, although his movements were more of a lope. He crossed the lawn like a wolf that has caught the scent of the hunt, his body bent low, his head moving from side to side.

Kimmy slipped back into the house, true to her word. As instructed, Jason slammed the door behind her. She was breathing heavily and gripped a bookcase for support. Her stockings were torn, she’d lost one shoe, and the front of her dress was stained red from the collar to the hem. I looked back outside. LeBlanc staggered under the weight of a bundle wrapped in yellow towels. He reached a patrol car and slipped into the back. The driver waited with the engine running, and they pulled away under full lights and sirens.

I burst into tears. Aileen gathered me into her arms and murmured words of comfort. I sobbed for Sampson as I had cried for Ray. I imagined them reuniting in the afterlife, together, happy, not needing me, and wept buckets of self-pity.

The phone rang. Kyle snatched it up. His hand shook badly and the copious sweating had resumed. To my considerable surprise he had let the dog go, but I wouldn’t assume that he would be as compassionate to the humans he held under his thumb.

“Twenty minutes,” he said, and hung up. He looked at Aileen. “Get me another beer.”

She complied.

“Time to think things through, Kyle.” I blew my nose on a scrap of tissue I’d found in my pocket and wiped the tears from my face. I wanted to sound calm and reasonable, although I was sweating as heavily inside as Kyle was on the outside. Until now we had been in more danger of being hit by a wild, frightened shot than a deliberate attempt to wound. Or kill. But the boy was changing. He could see out the big front window as well as the rest of us. With the arrival of the police the game had shifted. They were sure to be coming around the back of the house as well as waiting out front. All of them well-armed and well-trained. Fear, indecision, determination, and sheer pigheadedness traveled across Kyle’s wide-open face like a one-man silent performance of all the plays of Shakespeare. He simply didn’t know what to do.

“They won’t let Jimmy through, you know, even if he does come. The cops like to handle things like this themselves.”

A mistake. Rage contorted his ugly face, and Kyle pounded his fist into the wall so hard he smashed through the drywall. Too bad it wasn’t solid brick. Aileen froze in the doorway, the can of beer clenched in her hand. He crossed the room in two giant steps, grabbed the drink, and hit Aileen full across the face. She fell to the hardwood floor with a cry.

Kimmy and I half rose, but the gun had already swung back around toward us.

“Sit down,” Kyle said.

We sat.

Aileen staggered to her feet, holding her hand to her face. She took it away and looked at her blood-spotted fingers. He’d split her lip.

“I’m in charge here,” he screamed. “You understand that, you bitches?” His eyes bulged and saliva dribbled out of the corner of his mouth. Jason scurried across the room heading for Kimmy’s wide, comfortable lap. Kyle grabbed him by the collar and almost yanked him off his feet. “You sit back down there on the floor, kid, and don’t move again.” He shoved Jason with enough force to propel the boy halfway across the room. Jason crumpled onto the floor and began to cry.

“That make you feel like a big strong man?”

Aileen gasped. “No, Rebecca. Don’t make him angry.”

“Why do you want to speak to Jim McKenzie anyway?” Kimmy asked. I was gaining a new respect for Kimmy with every minute that passed. She was one amazingly strong woman under pressure. Whereas if I didn’t keep my mouth under control I might well get us all killed.

“People in town think he killed Jennifer. I planted a handful of her hair in his truck. I’ve seen on TV that the cops can find most anything these days. Strands of hair, drops of blood, and then they call tell whose it is. So I put some of her hair in the truck.”

“That was clever,” Kimmy said.

He smiled at her and puffed up his chest. “Yeah. But I guess they ain’t as smart here as the cops in the States. Where they look for blood and hair and stuff. So then I thought I’d put this.” He dug around in his pocket and pulled out a single mitten. “In the garbage out back. Then I’d call the cops with a fake voice and say that I saw Jim taking out the trash and looking all suspicious like. They were bound to find it.”

“Is that one of Jennifer’s?”

“Yeah.”

Aileen turned to me. “I saw him, out the kitchen window, sneaking around in the shed.”

Kyle shook his head. “Fuckin’ bitch. You had to interfere.”

What a mess. Jimmy was already in jail and Kyle too stupid to realize that even in Hope River the police don’t broadcast their every movement to the public. His chances of getting away were now absolutely nil and our chances of being killed were rising like the take at Casino Niagara on the Friday night of a long weekend.

The phone rang. This time we all jumped. Kyle grabbed it and started screaming before Eriksson had a chance to so much as draw breath.