Читать книгу The Lost Daughter - Diane Chamberlain - Страница 18

You don’t get scared very often, but you shake like a leaf when you do. You came into my room this afternoon, trembling all over, and I knew Dr. Watts must have told you I don’t have much longer. You were trying hard to hide your fear. You handed me a glass of juice and spilled it all over the blanket and when you tried to clean it up, your hands and arms were shaking so hard, you couldn’t. I felt so bad for you. I wanted to fix it, like I do your scraped knees and bee stings. But there was nothing I could do except hold you. I held you until you finally stopped shaking. Do you remember?

NIGHT FELL EARLY OUTSIDE THE CABIN. SHE ATE TUNA FROM the can for supper, barely tasting it. There were no shades at the windows, and she felt exposed to whatever or whoever might be lurking in the woods. A strong breeze came up and the world outside crackled with the sound of swaying branches. She jumped at a thud on the small front porch and unlocked the dead bolt to peer into the darkness, but the chilly wind made her shiver and she quickly shut the door and bolted it again.

Should she sleep? Who knew when she’d next get the chance? She turned off all the lights in the house and lay down on the bottom bunk bed she’d made, but she was trembling all over. She got under the covers, but the blankets didn’t help; it was not the cold that was making her shiver. How was she going to control a grown woman? She’d felt so young these past few days, so aware of the age difference between her and Tim and Marty and Naomi and Forrest. She wondered again if Tim regretted asking a mere kid to be responsible for an important part of his plan. He should have asked the girl from SCAPE.

She curled into a ball. Maybe they wouldn’t be able to get the governor’s wife. Please don’t let them get her. Tim would be sorely disappointed and she felt bad about that, but self-preservation was kicking into gear.

The slamming of a car door jolted her awake. She sat up in the darkness, still shivering, although the cabin had grown quite warm. She heard voices outside. Jumping from the bed, she ran into the living room to peer through the window into the darkness. She couldn’t see anything at first, and she felt dizzy, as though she might pass out or throw up. Her heart pounded in her ears, and she grabbed the back of a chair to steady herself.

Moving to another window, she spotted the light inside the van. She watched Marty reach into the passenger seat and pull a woman to her feet. CeeCee caught a glimpse of a white blindfold tied around her eyes.

Her mask! She raced back to the bedroom and quickly wrapped her hair around her head, dropping some of the bobby pins on the floor with her trembling, gloved hands. One of the brothers pounded on the front door as she pulled on the blond wig and slipped the mask over her face.

“Coming!” she called. “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she whispered to herself as she ran into the living room and unlocked the dead bolt.

It took both Marty and Tim to pull the blindfolded woman through the doorway. She was nearly as tall as they were.

“Stop it!” the woman yelled, her cuffed hands batting the air. “Let go of me!” Her short red hair was mussed, her cheeks crimson, from the cold or from crying. She wore a fur coat. Real fur, CeeCee thought. Dark and rich and shimmery. And she was very fat.

“She’s an obstinate bitch,” Marty said to CeeCee as he pushed the woman past her, but even with her eyes covered, the woman’s expression looked more anxious than obstinate.

“Don’t be afraid,” CeeCee said to her.

The woman stopped fighting. “Who’s that?” she asked.

She hadn’t thought of a name for herself. “Sleeping Beauty,” she said. “What’s your name?”

“Her name’s Genevieve,” Tim said, as though the word tasted bad in his mouth. He reached up and untied the woman’s blindfold. She blinked against the light, blue eyes red and puffy from crying, and her gaze fell on CeeCee. “Who are you?” she asked. “Why are you wearing a mask? What’s going on?”

“Does she have to have the handcuffs on?” CeeCee asked Tim.

“You going to behave now?” Tim asked the woman.

Genevieve didn’t respond. She stared at CeeCee, trying to peer into her eyes behind the mask and CeeCee felt an unexpected connection with her: They were both trapped in this situation.

Tim pulled a small key from his pocket and unlocked the cuffs. The moment Genevieve’s hands were free, she slapped him hard across the face, much the way CeeCee had during their breakup performance on Franklin Street.

“You bitch!” Marty grabbed the woman’s wrist, but Tim merely smiled. He looked unsure of himself, though, as if he’d gotten in over his head. It scared CeeCee to see him that way. She needed him to be certain that what they were doing was right. Certain enough for both of them.

“Let go of me!” Genevieve tried to twist her wrist out of Marty’s grasp.

“Let go of her,” CeeCee agreed. She was not trying to protect the woman as much as ease her own discomfort. She didn’t like physical conflict, always fearing it might escalate into something worse. The woman was a massive and imposing figure in the fur coat. She could do some damage if she chose to. “She’s okay,” she said. “She can’t go anywhere.”

Marty let go, and the woman rubbed her wrist.

“Take off this animal you’re wearing,” Tim said. He helped her as though he was helping his girlfriend in a restaurant. When the coat slipped from Genevieve’s shoulders, it was clear she was not fat after all.

“She’s pregnant,” CeeCee said.

“Well, at least one of you can face reality,” the woman said. She was wearing a long, navy-blue sweater and pale blue slacks. “I’ve been telling these jerks that the whole way here. I’m thirty-seven weeks and this is a high-risk pregnancy.” Her voice broke as she rested one hand on her belly. “Please take me back,” she said to Tim.

“Did you know she was pregnant?” CeeCee asked Tim, but Marty answered.

“It’s no big deal,” he said.

It was a big deal, CeeCee thought. This was a human being they were dealing with. Two human beings.

“If your husband does what he’s told,” Tim said, his eyes were on the woman’s huge belly, “you’ll be home before you know it.”

“Thirty-seven weeks,” Genevieve repeated to him. “That’s more than eight months. Do you understand?”

“I’ve got it,” Tim said. “That’s all the more reason the gov should want you back safe, and soon.”

“If anything happens to this baby,” Genevieve said, “you two will be in worse trouble than you are now, I can tell you that.” She leveled her eyes at CeeCee. “You three,” she said. “My husband will never give in to blackmail.”

“This ain’t blackmail, bitch,” Marty said to her. “It’s a kidnapping. Much more elegant than blackmail.”

Genevieve reached behind her to rub the small of her back. “If you take me home now,” she said to Tim, obviously guessing he was the softer of the two men, “I can make sure they go easy on you.”

“No way,” Tim said. “I’m not crapping out on Andie.”

“You’re a fool,” Genevieve said.

“Look.” Tim touched her arm, and she snapped it away from him. “You sit here with Marty and I’ll get you some tea and something to eat.” He looked at CeeCee, nodding toward the kitchen.

“Sit down,” Marty ordered her. CeeCee felt a little afraid to leave her in his care. The woman lowered herself to the old couch, looking defeated and suddenly very tired.

In the kitchen, CeeCee lifted her mask. “Oh, God, Tim, please don’t leave me alone with her!”

“Put the mask down,” he snapped, and she dropped it over her face again. Tim filled a pot with water and set it on the stove. “She’s going to be fine,” he said. “She’s really a pussycat.” The red mark on his cheek suggested otherwise. “Don’t get too close to her, though. She might try to grab your mask or something.”

“I just … I …” CeeCee stammered. “She’s so much taller than me.”

“Babe.” He held on to her shoulders. His smile was meant to reassure her, but it was tight and uncertain. “I’m sure this isn’t going to last long. It’s actually good that she’s pregnant. It makes her less able to cause you any problems, right?” He waited for her to answer and she offered a reluctant nod.

“You’re doing a wonderful thing for me,” he said. “For my family. Whatever you need, anytime, I’ll be there for you. I owe you.”

Be there for me how, she wanted to ask? How could he be there if he was going underground? But she knew better than to bring up that subject again.

“Now look.” He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a gun, and she backed away.

“It’s not loaded, right?” she asked.

“Actually, it is,” he said.

She took another step backward until she was up against the pantry. “You said it wouldn’t be. Take out the bullets.”

“I think it’s better if it’s loaded. Just in case. I don’t mean you would shoot her.” He looked suddenly worried. “Whatever you do, don’t shoot her. She’s all we’ve got to trade with. But you might need to shoot the ceiling or something to keep her in line. She’s feistier than I anticipated.”

“Oh, Tim, I don’t want a gun!”

“The safety is on,” he said. “Let me show you how this thing works.”

She watched carefully as he toggled the safety back and forth. She supposed he was right. It would give her more confidence if she had a weapon. It didn’t matter that Genevieve was taller or bigger or stronger if she was the one with the gun.

She took the gun from him, her gloved hands trembling.

“Man, you haven’t stopped shaking since we got here,” he said.

“Not since you left me here, actually,” she admitted. “I can’t stop.”

“It’s all going to work out, I promise,” he said as he took a tea bag from the box in the pantry. “That asshole governor will want to keep this quiet and get her back before anyone’s the wiser. He’s that way. Very private. So I want you to stop worrying, okay?” He lifted her mask a couple of inches and planted a kiss on her cheek.

She poured boiling water into a mug, spilling some of it onto the worn wooden counter.

“You get the cookies,” he said, taking the mug from her. “And try to calm down. Don’t let her see how rattled you are.”

She was worrying him, she thought, as she put a few sugar cookies onto a plate. Disappointing him.

Genevieve was still sitting on the old sofa when they walked back into the room, and Marty stood at the window, looking less confident than he had a few minutes earlier.

“I heard something out there,” he said. “A thud or something.”

“It’s nothing.” Tim set the mug on the coffee table.

“I heard it a lot while you were gone,” CeeCee said. “I think it’s just a branch brushing against the porch.” How was someone as paranoid as Marty going to survive on the run? She placed the plate of cookies next to the mug, taking one of them for herself, although she was hardly hungry. She needed something to do with her hands.

Genevieve suddenly picked up all four of the cookies and threw them at the men. Then she threw the plate at CeeCee, catching her on the side of her face. Of Sleeping Beauty’s face.

“You bitch!” Marty was on the woman in a flash, pinning her arms to the sofa, and CeeCee saw a sharp flicker of fear in her eyes.

“Leave her alone,” she said, surprised as the words left her mouth. “You can’t blame her.” It suddenly occurred to her that befriending the woman might be the right approach. Her sympathy for her was genuine. As Marty backed away, CeeCee could tell that Genevieve was struggling to keep from crying. Her lower lip quivered and her eyes blinked back tears. She sat down next to her. “It’s going to be okay,” she said.

Genevieve stared at her. “What have you let these guys talk you into?” she asked.

CeeCee quickly stood again as she felt the upper hand slip away from her. “I think for myself, bitch,” she said, but Genevieve’s eyes bored hard into CeeCee’s until she had to look away.

Tim pointed to the governor’s wife. “Do what Sleeping Beauty says, or there’ll be trouble,” he said. “Marty and I are leaving.”

“I don’t feel well,” Genevieve said, her hand rubbing her back again. “I could be going into labor.”

“Right,” Tim said with disdain. He looked at Marty. “You ready?”

“You bet,” Marty said, but he opened the door slowly and peered outside before walking onto the porch.

CeeCee stood next to the coffee table, watching the men leave. She listened to the van doors slam shut and the engine cough to life, and she thought, What now? She felt Genevieve’s eyes on her. The woman hadn’t touched her tea. “Do you want more cookies?” she asked.

Genevieve ignored the question. “So, what happens now?” she asked. “Will they tell my husband where I am and he can come get me?”

A horrible thought. Surely they wouldn’t send the husband here. She’d be a sitting duck if he showed up.

“They’ll come get you and take you back,” she said, as if she knew that for a fact.

“Where are they going now?”

“Someplace where they can call your husband.”

“Why didn’t they call him from here? Then I could talk to him and let him know I’m alive. That would make more sense.”

“There’s no phone here.”

Genevieve rolled her eyes. “Then why didn’t they take me someplace where there is a phone?”

It was a good question and CeeCee didn’t have the answer. “Look,” she said, “this is the way it is, so we’ll just have to make the best of it.”

Genevieve suddenly got to her feet and CeeCee panicked. “You sit down!” she said.

She thought Genevieve was going to ignore her, and she suddenly realized she’d left the gun in the kitchen. Her voice must have carried power, though, because the woman dropped onto the sofa again.

“I wasn’t kidding that I don’t feel well,” she said. “My back aches.”

“You probably pulled something when they nabbed you,” CeeCee said.

“It ached before that. It’s ached all day.”

“When is your baby due?”

“Three weeks from now.”

“Then it’s not the baby,” CeeCee said as if she knew about these things. Babies did come early, but a backache had nothing to do with labor. At least she hoped it didn’t. She walked over to the bookshelf. “You want a book to read?” she asked.

“I don’t want a book,” Genevieve said. “If you think I can concentrate on reading, you’re as crazy as your friends.”

CeeCee sat down in the chair by the window and folded her hands on her lap.

“What color’s your real hair?” Genevieve asked.

“None of your business.” She realized that she’d completely forgotten about disguising her voice. Too late now.

“I don’t think you’re as tough as you pretend.” Genevieve almost smiled. “You really should have gotten a tougher mask than that.”

CeeCee touched the thin plastic mask.

“Do you go to Carolina?” Genevieve asked. “You’re not one of my students, are you? You sound like one of them.”

“I wouldn’t tell you if I were,” CeeCee said.

Genevieve looked annoyed. “I have to go to the bathroom,” she said.

Damn. She’d hoped they could get through this entire fiasco without either of them needing to use the bathroom.

“I have to go with you,” CeeCee said.

“Are those your orders?” Genevieve moved forward on the couch as though preparing to stand up. “Don’t let her out of your sight?” She was talking to her like she might a child. It was irksome enough to be annoying, and CeeCee was glad. It made Genevieve less sympathetic.

“I think for myself,” CeeCee said.

“Fine,” Genevieve said. “I need to go to the bathroom. Now.”

“Stay here one minute.” CeeCee darted into the kitchen and grabbed the gun. Just touching it started her hands shaking again. She checked to be sure the safety was on, then carried it into the living room.

“Whoa!” Genevieve said. “You don’t need that!”

“You can get up now, and I’ll walk with you,” CeeCee said.

Genevieve struggled to her feet, giving CeeCee a wide berth as she walked toward the hallway. She held one arm out as if she could block a bullet with her hand. The other hand she held protectively over her belly.

“It’s that door on the left,” CeeCee said.

Genevieve walked into the bathroom and started to shut the door behind her, but CeeCee stuck out her foot to keep it open.

“Oh, come on,” Genevieve said. “What do you think I’m going to do in here?” She pointed to the small, square window above the toilet. “I’m hardly going to be able to get through that window.”

That was true. CeeCee didn’t want to watch her while she went to the bathroom, anyway.

“Okay.” She removed her foot from in front of the door. “You have to leave it open a crack, though.”

“Fine,” Genevieve said again.

CeeCee leaned against the wall, waiting, listening to the rustle of clothing on the other side of the door. Genevieve urinated for a long time, then flushed the toilet. CeeCee straightened, gun held in front of her, as she waited for her captive to walk into the hallway. Then suddenly, so quickly CeeCee had no time to react, the bathroom door slammed shut and the key clicked into place in the lock.