A Purse to Die For (24 page)

Chapter 39

Rob heard the story second-hand when he got to the precinct. His boss was full of it.

"
Waste of time dealing with the locals. Bloody lazy bastards—they couldn
'
t find a hooker at a sales convention, let alone one six-foot male in a three-room cottage.
"
The big man was always good for off-colour metaphors. Rob grimaced, but kept quiet.

"
Williamson has been there,
all right
, even if the locals couldn
'
t find him. He couldn
'
t have gone far, either, with the car right there and the keys on the counter. Probably out fishing somewhere. And with all those idiots crawling around the place like ants on a sandwich, someone probably tipped him off.
"

McQuarrie stopped to take a breath. His face was red and his blood pressure was zooming—not a good sign. Rob opened his mouth to say something when a country and western song came out of nowhere.

He grabbed for his cellphone.

Carla stopped mid-action. She took a deep breath and called on all her willpower. Then she pushed the knife drawer back in slowly, keeping her back to Gina.

This wasn
'
t the way to do it. Especially not with Gina. No, there had to be another way to get Gina away from here, to stall her so she couldn
'
t tell the others what she
'
d heard.

"
Carla?
"
Gina
'
s voice behind her was breathless.

Carla leaned on the counter.
"
Yeah. I
'
m thinking.
"
It was the truth.

Carla thought quickly. Rob was due to check in. Everyone would be back soon. Becki would be on her way home from the hospital
,
and who
knew
when the others would trickle in? She had to get Gina out of here. But how?

Her brows furrowed as her brain calculated.
This is when it helps to be very, very clever,
thought Carla.
Know your prospect. Know what motivates him or her.
And she knew Gina very well.

Carla turned and managed to shudder.
"
Gina, you can
'
t know what I
'
ve been through. Reggie is a manipulative bastard. You know w
hat he
'
s like.
I believed all his lies at first, but I don
'
t anymore. You shouldn
'
t, either. Fact is,
"
she said, lowering her voice to almost a whisper,
"
I
'
m in danger. Big danger. He nearly killed me once
,
and he won
'
t stop until I
'
m dead.
"

Carla watched as Gina
'
s eyes went wide.
Yes, it
'
s working.

"
I
'
ve got to hide. And I need your help.
"

Gina nodded briefly.

Carla explained what she needed done.

"
Dumont,
"
he said into the cellphone.

"
What?
"
It was Reggie
'
s voice on the other end of the phone. Rob was so shocked he nearly fell over. But this was a different Reggie, a flustered son-of-a-bitch who was talking fast and not making much sense.
"
Where are you?
"

Nothing back. Evading, as usual. But—holy crap—what was that he just said about Carla?

"
Whoa. Take it again from the top
,
and tell me everything real slow.
"

"
I wonder what Carla said,
"
muttered Becki as she pulled into the driveway.

So do I.

"
Mom!
"

Yup, me again.

"
Is there some sort of reason why you pop up when you do?
"
she asked and switched off the engine.

Just that whenever I hear you talking to yourself, I think I might as well provide you with an actual conversation partner.

"
Trouble is, and don
'
t take offence—
"

I certainly won
'
t.

"
—you
'
re not
actual
.
"

I can still contribute.

"
Can you tell me what
'
s going to happen at the house?
"

No.

"
Can you assure me things will be fine?
"

No.

Becki pushed open the car door with a huff and held it ajar. She noticed she didn
'
t have the strength she used to at her service. Rising from the deep seat with a groan, she mumbled a furtive,
"
Thanks a lot, Mom.
"
She slammed the door shut and hurried up the walkway.

Tony careened the Audi into the driveway and stood on the brake. He leapt out of the car. Becki appeared in the doorway of the old house.

"
Becki, is—
"

"
She
'
s not here,
"
Becki yelled. She was running gingerly down the steps now.
"
Jerry says she got into Carla
'
s car just a few minutes ago
,
and they drove off somewhere.
"

"
Damn.
"
Tony nearly stamped the ground. He frowned and started back to his car.
"
It
'
s okay. I can follow her. Get in.
"

Becki reached for the passenger door. The car was already revving.

"
Do you know where she
'
ll take Gina?
"

"
No, but I put a tracer in Gina
'
s purse. As long as she
'
s got her purse.
"
He backed out of the driveway like a demon.

Becki struggled to get her seatbelt done up.
"
I tried calling her cell, but there
'
s no answer.
"

"
She lost it.
"

"
Tony, I
'
m scared.
"

"
Me too,
"
he muttered. The car screeched as it coursed onto the main street.

It was all too easy to get Gina out of the house and into the car. Gina had simply stopped for her
jacket
and purse and followed her out.

"
Where are we going?
"
Gina asked. There was an edge of fear to her voice.

Carla manoeuvred onto the highway and pressed the pedal to the floor. Traffic was light at this time of day
,
and she easily weaved around slower vehicles to keep her speed up.

"
A cabin I know not far from here. The Brownies use it for weekend camps. I was there with Nellie in the summer
,
and they don
'
t lock it. Reggie doesn
'
t know about it. Nobody does. He
'
ll never find me there.
"

"
But Carla, what will you do? You can
'
t stay there forever.
"

Carla was driving much too fast. Reckless, she knew. She
'
d never drive this fast with Nellie in the car.
"
Just until they find and arrest Reggie. Then I
'
ll be safe. You can bring me in supplies.
"

She finished the speech with satisfaction, almost triumph. What a good story, well delivered. She
'
d always been a great actress. Lots of practice, all these years, hiding the fear and pain. And no one knew. Everyone saw the pretty face, the careful façade of a devoted wife and mother.

"
We can stop on the way and pick up stuff.
"

"
No! I have to get there first. Then you can take the car and go back for supplies.
"

A pause.

Carla risked a glance at Gina, who was frowning.

"
What about Nellie?
"
Gina said.

Carla felt panic for the first time. She
'
d have to go back to the house for Nellie. After she dealt with Gina. And then they would go away somewhere. But where?

"
I don
'
t know.
"
Her mouth was dry.
"
I don
'
t know what to do about Nellie.
"

Chapter 40

The parking lot of the camp looked like a frozen snow-covered lake in the middle of the woods. Which it was—in the middle of the woods. It had taken them at least three quarters of an hour to get here from town, even driving at top speed. Now
,
Gina knew the city—she worked in downtown Toronto with its hustle-bustle in and out of office towers; its horns, sirens and palpable subway rumbles; its colourful store windows and sidewalks crisscrossed with light and shadow; even its hotdog cart aromas and gutter stenches. She was also fondly familiar with small town life, such as in Langdon Hills. But she was unfamiliar with country—rolling farm or wooded cottage—like here. That must be why she felt uneasy. Surely there was nothing menacing about this particular place.

She tried to picture the same scene filled with excited little girls running around in their chocolate brown outfits with little scarves at their necks, but it was hard to imagine because of the two-inch layer of pristine white stuff, broken only by branches that must have snapped and fallen with the weight of early, heavy snow. Her imaging also failed because she suspected Brownies didn
'
t actually wear brown anymore. It was pink they donned now, wasn
'
t it? Or was that
the
Sparks, the even younger girls?

W
hat am I thinking? Who the hell cares?

"
Carla,
"
she said nervously as the car pulled to a stop
.
"
Y
ou
'
re absolutely going to freeze here. What
'
s the rush anyway? Surely you could have packed some warm clothes.
"

"
There
'
s a wood-burning fireplace in the main building, so even if they
'
ve shut down the electricity for winter, I
'
ll be okay. Come on, let
'
s go see,
"
she said, and hopped out of the car.

Gina followed. The heat and pressure of the sole of Carla
'
s one black leather boot melted the snow she trampled unevenly into a slushy, semi-transparent footprint, beneath which Gina could see an underlying layer of leaves.
W
ay too cold to be cabin camping!

In the back of her mind, she knew some crazy enthusiasts slept in thermal sleeping bags, in igloo-like tents, even in the middl
e of winter, but again
too
hard to imagine.

Luckily, in one sense Carla was right, and the door of the main lodge squeaked open w
ith one solid push. T
he entire structure, outside and in, was constructed of wo
od—whole logs, planks…

Pee-eew.
Did the space ever smell dank. Like some hideous, ventless
,
locker room.

"
Okay,
"
Carla said, taking stock,
"
the kitchen
'
s over there and the supply closet. Would you check the cupboards and see what
'
s available? Hopefully staples like flour, sugar—
"

"
Not going to be baking brownies,
"
said Gina.
C
omp
let
ely inappropriate humour…

Carla didn
'
t crack a smile.

Chalk it up to nerves—both the dumb joke and the subsequent non-reaction to the dumb joke.

"
Find blankets somewhere,
"
Carla said in her I-mean-business tone.
"
I
'
ll go back outside and look for firewood. I think there
'
s a woodshed out back.
"

"
Okay, okay…
"
Gina said her mood caving. She headed toward the camp kitchen area, which boasted battered pots dangling from the ceiling and an amazing variety of cooking utensils hooked on pegboard. But the more she thought about it, the more she decided this was a stupid, stupid idea, and wondered how she ever let herself be convinced to go along with it. Carla would be safe at home if she just told Rob what she
'
d told her—Reggie was lying… she was afraid for her life.

It was
exactly
like when you
'
re con
fronted by an obnoxious critic, and
when you
'
re a TV weather reporter, t
here are a ton of critics. Y
ou can
'
t think of that pulpy reply until
it
'
s too late. She saw
how they should have handled this situation rather than come all the way out here. It was simple—until the cops had Reggie in custody request the police put a man on guard duty, nig
ht and day, outside the house. T
o prevent anyone from sneaking in. Then Carla and everybody else would be safe.

"
Carla,
"
she said,
"
This is dumb.
"
She turned around.
"
Listen—
"

But Carla was gone.

Oh well, the search for firewood wouldn
'
t take long. Maybe it would even prove unproductive. And in that case, Carla wouldn
'
t…couldn
'
t stay here.

All of a sudden, she heard the sound of a car. Weird, because Carla
'
s was the only vehicle in the lot. She
concentrated on listening. T
here was no doubt about it, a car was moving in the parking lot, breaking the silence of the place with the sound of its motor, the spin of its wheels, and what she interpreted to be the snap of branches under its massive weight. Was Carla using the car to transport wood from an outbuilding to the main building? Or was someone else arriving? That wouldn
'
t be good, would
it? She scooted over to the window
facing
the parking lot and the ro
ad. The ledge
was festooned with dead flies.
She peered out.

"
Christ almighty!
"

It was Carla. She was high-tailing it down the road away from camp.

Gina almost never swore—always the professional—because you never knew who might overhear, and that would reflect badly on the network. But this time she yelled,
"
Shit! Shit! Double shit! Triple shit!
"

She flew to the door.

What good did it do? Carla was gone
,
h
er car no longer visible through the spindly trunks lining the road. And Gina was now stuck in this Godforsaken place. Man, she felt so stupid. Gullible to the nth degree.

She
'
d been right that moment
,
when she was standing in the kitchen with Carla
,
and had that gut feeling Carla was the scary murderer everyone had to be afraid of.
Who was it that said
l
isten to your instincts
?
'
Cause that
'
s what instincts are for, damn it! To warn you.

She slammed the door shut and flopped down on the plank floor. She knew she had to strategize her way out of here, but she couldn
'
t think straight. Not through the barrage of thoughts coming from all directions. But. She. Would. Not. Cry.

Civilized society wears down your natural instincts
, she realized.
By forcing you to be polite…and politically correct…and considerate…and a good girl…You deny your basic intuitions. After all, you
'
re safe in a civilized society. A society with laws—rules by which everyone is supposed to live.

But—oh my God!—Carla isn
'
t playing by the rules.

Gina wondered what Tony would think about her massive blunder. On the one side, there he
was
, not just an architect
,
but some sort of espionage pro. And here she
was
, not just a weather babe
,
but an unbelievable dope. Much more important, she realized, were the lives she
'
d jeopardised by playing her cards so badly. Could she live with herself if someone else got hurt?

Nellie!
Carla might be heading back right now to take Nellie.

Now Gina really felt like crying. What would Dad say?

She imagined him looking up from one of his treasured books as she walked in the room.

"
Dad?
"

"
Yes, dear?
"
He
'
d remove his glasses.

"
I messed up. Did a really stupid thing. And I
'
m ashamed.
"

"
What in heaven
'
s name do you have to be ashamed of?
"

"
I had Carla dead to rights, Dad. And I let her go. Actually, she tricked me. And that
'
s what bugs me most. It
'
s ridiculous how naïve I am. Now she
'
s free to hurt more people. And it
'
s all my fault.
"

"
Dearest, come here,
"
he
'
d say.

She
'
d walk willingly into his arms.

Looking at her with the wisest eyes in the universe, he
'
d say,
"
Naïve is not a word for you. You want to believe the best of people, which is a quality, not a sin. If you were guarded or judgemental, you
'
d be less generous, less loving. You
'
re perfect just the way you are. And I do love you so.
"

She could almost feel his arms around her. Okay, with his imagined encouragement, she decided she wasn
'
t the only person to give the benefit of the doubt undeservedly. She even went so far as to permit herself to speculate on how many people out there would also give a pass to a woman, especially a blood relation, who was abused by her husband.
But being a victim of abuse doesn
'
t automatically make you…not a murderer.

No doubt about it, because she didn
'
t have her cellphone, she had to find another means of communication. Likely there
'
d be no hook-up here, but she
'
d check it out anyway.

She paced the perimeter of the building, covered every wall and table surface with her eyes. Then she scanned every cubby hole and every storage closet, just in case. No luck.
The outbuildings.

She left her purse behind because it would only encumber her search, and headed outside to scurry through the dorms and sheds. Nothing. And it was no wonder. Camp leaders would have cellphones with them at all times. And what would be the point in paying for a landline that would only be used seasonally?

If it were just her own fate at stake, she
'
d go back inside the main lodge now. And wait. And think. But there was sweet Nellie, who was cursed to have the mother from hell, not to mention all the others at home, who didn
'
t know who Carla really was, to consider. She wouldn
'
t let herself think it was too late.

Although they hadn
'
t passed any houses during the last several kilometres of their ride to camp, this area wasn
'
t the great white tundra or anything. She stood in one spot in the middle of the now-muddied tract of snow that was the parking lot and turned around slowly, scanning the horizon.

Evergreen trees. Deciduous trees. Bushes…

Finally, she spotted the top of a silo.
Ah-ha!
There
'
d have to be a barn attached and a farmhouse nearby, right?

S
he silenced her cautionary voice
.
Yes
,
I know all about weather.

O
nce the daytime high peaked
in
mid-afternoon, temperature tended to drop. Swiftly.
She knew about hypothermia—
how cleverly it killed. She supposed Carla counted on it.