The Portrait of Doreene Gray (33 page)

*   *   *

Michael walked swiftly, but Angus, who was slightly taller, had no difficulty in keeping up. They reached the coast road walking side by side. Michael turned left, toward Battery Kinzie and the lighthouse beyond.

They returned greetings from passing people as they trudged along: men and women carrying fishing poles, two boys with a plastic bag that dripped water. Still they walked, past the marine science center, a bleached and abandoned boat, and the first entrance to the parking lot for the campground.

Michael had studied a map of Fort Worden. Beyond the campground parking lots, a trail led from the road to Battery Vicars and from there to Battery Kinzie. He passed the final entrance to the parking lot and suppressed a smile when he heard a soft grunt of surprise from Angus.

Michael slowed his pace and kept an eye on the dunes to his left. A weedy path cut through the sand at the place where the road branched. He took it, changing direction so quickly that sand slopped over the side of his shoe.

Angus followed. “You heard what the police said. It's a concrete bunker. It's not as though the painting could be hidden under a floorboard.”

“I just want to look. Being curious is part of the job, isn't it?”

The only answer was an unintelligible grumble.

They reached the broken edge of an asphalt walk and went on to find a low concrete building set down into the ground. It was smaller than Kinzie, with a battered white sign that read
THOMAS VICARS
affixed to its front.

Angus paused at the top of some concrete stairs. “Don't you want to take a look?”

Michael kept walking. “Not really.”

“Suit yourself,” Angus muttered, and went down the stairs.

Michael continued on and found his way to the side of Battery Kinzie. He walked around to the front to study it. As he recalled, at least one of the huge iron hatches was affixed to the concrete wall so it couldn't be closed. Had the cops checked behind it?

He peered behind all the hatches. Nothing. The room beyond was dim. He went inside, checking his jacket pocket for his cell phone.

Max and Hank had emerged from the tunnel at the back of this room. Assuming Max
had
hidden the painting here, would he have led Hank to the correct tunnel? Maybe, if Hank had broken his spirit enough.

Michael found himself tiptoeing as he moved to the back of the room. He stopped at the tunnel entrance and listened.

Faint noises came from the darkness beyond, like stone scraping across stone. The hair rose on the back of Michael's neck, and he looked over his shoulder. Should he get Angus? If he left, whoever it was might get away.

Michael took out his cell phone and sent a quick text to Suki and Angus.
At Kinzie. Hear something. Going in tunnel.
He pressed send and switched the phone to silent. He held it to his side, allowing only the faintest illumination to escape, and stepped into the tunnel.

*   *   *

Angus felt the buzz of his phone and took it out. “Oh, for crying out loud,” he muttered, reading the message. He trotted up the cement stairs of Battery Vicars.

*   *   *

Michael walked as quietly as possible along the damp floor of the tunnel. It made a right-angle turn ahead. A faint light came from the opening beyond. He heard a woman grunt, and then the sound of shoes stumbling.

Michael turned the corner and saw a small shape run toward him, accompanied by the sound of claws on concrete. Lyndsay stood just beyond, barely visible in the gloom.

“Grab her!” Lyndsay yelled.

Michael bent and managed to grab Gigi's leash as it slithered past. As he rose, his peripheral vision caught what looked like a piece of driftwood swinging toward the side of his head. It was too late to duck.

*   *   *

Angus pelted down the stairs that led to the ground level of Battery Kinzie, the metal handrail rough under his palm. He could hear a high-pitched racket up ahead, as if someone were yelling hysterically. As he hit bottom, he saw Lyndsay poke her head out of one of the ground-floor rooms and look both ways.

“What's going on?” Angus called. “Is it Max?”

“Yes!” Lyndsay yelled. “Hurry! They're fighting!”

Angus ran across the front of the battery. Lyndsay stood just inside the door. Her hands and dress were dirty, and she was frantically disentangling a gnarled piece of driftwood from what looked like a black plastic trash bag.

She got it loose and thrust the wood at him, yelling to be heard over the ear-splitting racket coming from the back of the room. “Take this!”

Angus grabbed the stick from her and ran to the entrance of the tunnel. Now that the echoes were fewer, he realized that what he had thought was yelling was barking. He glanced back at the door, but Lyndsay was gone.

Angus took out his cell phone and used the light to navigate, holding it in his left hand while he kept his improvised club raised high in his right. He almost tripped over Michael, who was pushing himself off the wet floor with one hand. Gigi barked hysterically by his elbow, her leash trapped beneath his side.

Angus dropped his stick and grabbed Michael under one armpit, but the narrow confines of the tunnel made it difficult to haul him upright.

Michael shook his head and squirmed from Angus's grip. “I can do it. Just shut her up, will you?”

Angus reached for Gigi.

She made a token snap at the air by his hand, but allowed him to pick her up.

He held her in one arm and stroked her head with one finger. “Hush.”

Michael staggered to his feet and leaned against the wall. “Where's Lyndsay?”

“Outside, hopefully calling for help.” Angus aimed his phone back and forth, nervously checking either end of the tunnel. “Where's Max?”

“Max?” Michael lifted a hand to his head and winced as he touched it. “I never saw Max, but I'm pretty sure Lyndsay
hit
me.” He caught sight of the piece of wood Angus had dropped on the floor. “With that, I think.”

“Why on earth would she hit you?” Angus asked.

“That part's kind of fuzzy, but if I had to guess, I'd say it has something to do with the painting. Was she carrying anything when you saw her?”

“She had a plastic bag. I thought it was trash.” Angus tugged on Michael's sleeve. “Can you walk?”

“Yeah.” Michael picked up the stick and followed Angus a little groggily. “Take my advice and don't go around corners headfirst.”

Angus led the way into the anteroom. “Don't forget to duck,” he said as they passed beneath the concrete buttress that crossed the ceiling.

“
Now
you tell me.” Michael followed him outside, blinking in the weak sunlight. Patches of dark muck splotched his cheek, and one side of his clothes was dark with water where he had lain on the tunnel floor.

Suki came running down the path toward them, sand spraying under her feet. She came to a halt in front of Michael and her eyes widened. “What happened to you?”

“Lyndsay walloped him over the head with that stick,” Angus said. “You didn't see her, did you?”

“I
thought
that was her car that passed me going the other way.”

Michael dropped the piece of driftwood and patted his pockets gingerly. “I must have dropped my phone somewhere in the tunnel. Someone else is going to have to call the police.”

Angus handed Gigi to Suki and dialed 911 on his phone.

“Look at me,” Suki said to Michael. “I want to make sure your pupils are the same size.”

Michael squinted at her, struggling not to blink. From her place on Suki's arm, Gigi tilted her head at him.

“They look okay to me,” Suki said. “You don't have a gooshy spot on your skull, do you? Any nausea?”

Michael probed the side of his head, grimacing in pain. “Just a big lump and a hell of a headache.”

Suki patted him on the arm. “You're okay. Walk it off.”

Angus waved them into silence as he spoke into his phone. “This is Angus MacGregor. Please tell Detective Kroger that Maureene Pinter's daughter, Lyndsay, assaulted one of my staff at the Kinzie Battery and then took off in her car.” He paused. “She was armed with a stick, but she doesn't have it anymore. I have no idea where she was going. No, I can't stay on the line.” He tapped the screen and hung up. “Let's go.”

“Hospital or police station?” Suki asked.

“Do you need the hospital?” Angus asked Michael.

“I don't think so.”

“Then let's go to Maureene's house,” Angus said.

“Are we going to tell Lyndsay's mom on her?” Suki asked as they walked to the car. “Cool.”

“I'm hoping to find Lyndsay and ask her a few blunt questions.”

Michael opened his car door. “I thought you didn't want the painting's disappearance debunked.”

“Maybe not,” Angus said, “but I take exception to someone bashing one of my reporters over the head. We don't want that kind of behavior to catch on.”

Angus and Michael told Suki what had happened as she drove through the park. When they reached the main road, she put on more speed.

Michael closed his eyes and clenched his teeth as the car leaned into a turn. “I want to catch Lyndsay more than anyone, but can you slow down a little? The G forces aren't doing my brain any good.”

“Sorry.” Suki lessened her pressure slightly on the gas pedal. “Angus, you said Lyndsay had a trash bag in addition to the stick?”

“I can't say for sure if it was a bag, but it was that kind of plastic.” Angus scanned the other cars on the road as they drove. “It wasn't the size of the painting.”

“A painting doesn't have to include a frame,” Michael reminded him. “It's basically a piece of canvas.”

“Then I suppose that could have been it,” Angus said. “Honestly, it looked as though Lyndsay had picked up the stick from some trash, looking for a weapon, and the bag came with it.”

“Did you notice the plastic lying around when you left?” Suki asked.

Angus shook his head. “I didn't notice much of anything, except how bad Michael looked.”

Michael sat up a little in the backseat. “Here's what I'm thinking. Lyndsay gets into town the evening of the night Doreene dies. Like anyone in the family, she could have known what code Doreene used. She sneaks upstairs and opens the locked room. Maybe Doreene is already dead, or maybe Doreene wakes up, groggy from her pills, and goes in there after her. Lyndsay holds some clothes over her aunt's face to suffocate her and steals the painting.”

“What about Reynaldo?” Angus asked. “He was sleeping beside Doreene.”

“He and Lyndsay could have been in it together. In fact, Lyndsay might have met Reynaldo anywhere and sent him to meet up with Doreene in Brazil!”

“That leaves out the rejuvenated portrait that was in the room,” Angus said.

“Lyndsay must have had her mother paint a replacement portrait,” Michael said. “They were all in it together.”

“And where is the replacement portrait now?” Angus asked. “Is the police department also part of this caper? Turn here.”

“I don't know where the other painting is,” Michael said, groaning as they took the turn.

“And where does Max fit into things?” Suki pulled up to the curb in front of the house.

“It's just a working theory, okay?” Michael said.

Gigi had been sitting in Angus's lap, but he picked her up in preparation for getting out of the car. “Let's not go in with a bunch of accusations. We'll ask where Lyndsay is because we found her dog. Don't let on that we're suspicious of anything.”

“Michael might want to clean himself up, in that case,” Suki said.

Michael brushed at the crud on his face, causing a shower of black flakes to fall on his lap. “Better?”

“Just stand at the back,” Suki said.

They got out and went to the front door, where Angus pressed the doorbell and then knocked.

After a few seconds, Lupita opened the door.

Angus smiled and raised Gigi slightly. “Look who we found wandering around lost.”

“The Chihuahuita! I wondered where she was.” Lupita stepped aside. “Go ahead and put her inside.”

Angus continued to hold the dog. “She's acting a little strange, like she might have been grazed by a car or eaten something bad. Is Lyndsay here?”

Lupita shook her head. “I haven't seen her since early morning. She came in the kitchen to tell me she was going out to breakfast.” Lupita leaned out the door and scanned the street, then pointed. “Her car is still here.”

The others turned. Sure enough, Lyndsay's car sat between two others, perhaps a half block in front of where they had parked.

Suki leaned toward Angus and murmured, “I'm going to see if the hood is warm.” She jumped off the step and trotted down the street.

Angus smiled at Lupita. “So you haven't seen Lyndsay since this morning?”

Lupita shook her head.

“What about Reynaldo?” Michael asked.

“I saw him leave with his gym bag just a little bit ago.” Lupita's gaze shifted to the street, where a police car slowed as it neared the house.
“Dios mio, la policia.”
She gave Angus a fearful look. “No one is dead, are they?”

“Not as far as we know,” Angus said.

Suki ran back to the house in time to greet Detective Kroger as he got out of the car. They walked to the house together, heads bent in conversation.

Angus and Michael parted to let the detective through. He came to a stop in front of Lupita. “Do you know the location of Lyndsay Waring?”

“No,” Lupita said, her voice trembling.

“How about Reynaldo Cruz?”

“I think he's at the gym.”

“She says Reynaldo left a little bit ago,” Angus volunteered, “carrying a gym bag.”

“Did he say that's where he was going?” Kroger asked Lupita. “Did you talk to him?”