Saltar's Point (36 page)

FORTY-TWO

Darrow read the letter again, unable to believe his good fortune. He focused on his favorite line.

Settlement shares are estimated to be between ten and fifteen thousand dollars.

It wasn’t an exorbitant amount of money that was for sure, but it would still come in handy. He had nearly liquidated his bank account of the monies Abby had inherited from her parents, almost all of it going to buy the mansion. And though he had plenty of equity, he couldn’t touch it. The God damn banks wouldn’t lend him a cent, not with his credit. Plus the part time work that he had been getting didn’t pay much and he had a nasty habit of pissing away money almost before he had it in his pocket. The sad truth was that even though on paper he was worth more than half a million dollars, Jack Darrow was broke.

He ran his fingers over the letter one more time, trying to convince himself that it was real. His fingers had been transformed into greedy little paws and he was eager to fill them with cold hard cash.

Free money! Hot diggity shit, free money. Well almost free anyway.

All they needed was a signature and he could provide that. The letter was addressed to Abby but he had power of attorney. He had forced her to sign legal authority over to him when she was in the hospital and the move had already paid off substantially, Abby didn’t want to buy this house, wanted instead to save the money for their retirement, but when it came right down to it, she didn’t have a say in the matter anymore.

He placed the letter on the kitchen counter and took out his recently acquired cell phone. The buttons were small and his swollen fingers were barely able to depress one button at a time but he managed to dial the number and then tried to remember what button the girl at the cell phone store said he had to push to get it to work. After a minute of thought he depressed the one with the little green telephone picture on it and the phone went into dial mode. It wasn’t so darn hard he thought.

On the other end of the line detective Connelly nearly fell out of his chair. The phone that he had carried on his hip day and night was finally ringing and it startled him. He quickly regained his composure and looked down at the incoming number, it was a local 360 area code. It was Darrow, had to be, unless someone dialed the number by mistake. He was sitting in the dining room of a Seattle Burger King, and he didn’t want to jeopardize the operation. But he couldn’t let the call go, he had to answer it. He pressed the pick up button and placed the receiver to his ear. When he spoke his voice was smooth and easy.

“Brad Jennings attorney at law.”

“Mr. Jennings, this is Jack Darrow you sent me a letter concerning a lawsuit.”

“Jefferson County disability lawsuit?” He said it as blasé as possible.

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Okay, what was your name again?” Connelly played it as smooth as silk, he’d let Darrow walk himself into his own trap.

“Darrow, Jack Darrow.” His voice was laced with irritation.

“Alright, let me just pull you up on my computer here. It’ll be just a second.” He paused for a moment and then replied. “I’m showing an Abby Darrow on our records, but no Jack Darrow, are you a relation?”

“Damn right, I’m her husband.”

“Okay Mr. Darrow, is Abby available to talk?”

The irritation in Darrow’s voice grew more pronounced. “No she’s not available to talk; she’s a God damn invalid.”

The children behind him were making a ruckus in the Burger King playground, Connelly hoped that Darrow wouldn’t draw any conclusions. “I’m sorry to hear that Mr. Darrow, but the lawsuit directly implicates those that may have been discriminated against for employment opportunities in Jefferson County, and I’m afraid that we would need her signature for authorization to proceed with the lawsuit on her behalf. Is she incapable of providing a signature?”

“She might be able to sign, but she wouldn’t know what the hell she was signing. I have power of attorney so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Darrow wasn’t giving an inch. It was going to be more difficult than he had anticipated. “Okay Mr. Darrow, I’ll have to meet with you and your wife and if she is truly incapacitated then you will be able to submit your signature on the lawsuit.”

Connelly waited with baited breath, hoping that Darrow would bite. The seconds dragged by with a cruel slowness.

“Fair enough, so when’s a good time for you?”

Bingo, Connelly thought, bingo.

“How about tomorrow afternoon, say around four?”

“Yeah, I guess I could swing that. How long is this gonna take?”

“It won’t take too long at all Mr. Darrow, probably a half an hour, at the most.”

“See that it doesn’t, I’m a busy man.”

Pretentious prick.
“Of course Mr. Darrow, I understand. So I will be there at four O’clock tomorrow then?”

“Fine.”

And then the line went dead. Connelly placed the phone back on his belt and returned to his Whopper. Even after speaking with Jack Darrow for just a couple of minutes he could see why nobody liked the man. He was vulgar, vile, and crude without a shred of regard for anyone but himself. But all of that didn’t matter one damn bit to Ryan Connelly. He was only interested in getting to the truth of the matter and if Jack Darrow was the man who killed that prostitute, then he would be the man who brought him to justice. No, Jack Darrow was not a man to be afraid of. He had dealt with far worse. He took another bite from his Whopper and relished the last thought as he chewed. Watch out Jack Darrow, I’m coming for you, and when the time is right I’m going to squash you like a bug.

On the other side of Puget Sound, Jack Darrow snapped his flip-phone shut, his skin still crawled from having to speak to that blood sucking lawyer. But that didn’t matter to Jack Darrow, as long as the man got him a cut of that money. Abby was going to be another problem however. She had become a little too adventurous the last couple of months and he didn’t want her talking to anybody, let alone a blood sucking lawyer who might advise her to divorce him and come after what was left of his money. No he couldn’t have that. He strode out of the kitchen and towards the front door. He had a lot of work to do before tomorrow night, after all he had to make sure that Abby wouldn’t be able to mutter a single word to anyone, especially a damn lawyer.

FORTY-THREE

“I haven’t told you the worst of it.”

Ellie was still crying, it seemed that over the past several days she had not been able to stop. Her behavior was beginning to scare Randall but he did his best not to let her on to this fact, afraid that it would only increase her anxieties, after all the poor woman had been through enough lately. He tried to think how he would have felt had he just learned that his family tree differed greatly from the path that he had thought it followed all of his life. No doubt it would be difficult, but he was starting to wonder if she was going to need professional help. Dear God, he almost couldn’t bear the thought of it, straight out of rehab and into a psychiatric ward. Here you are honey, home sweet home, hope the jacket’s not too tight, we’ll come back to get you when you’re no longer crazy. He was afraid to ask but he swallowed the lump in his throat and proceeded without hesitation.

“What is it honey, I’m sure it can’t be all that bad?”

“Oh but it’s worse. Worse than you could even imagine. I swear I must be losing my mind.”

Randall didn’t have the heart to tell her that he was just thinking she might need a relaxing stay at the nut house. “Go on,” he said. “I’m listening.”

They were seated on the sofa in the living room. The house was in disarray, clothes were scattered about and the carpet hadn’t been vacuumed in weeks, dirty dishes were growing in the sink faster than dandelions in springtime. Randall had been consumed with work, spending long hours away from home, and Ellie’s normally compulsive behavior to keep her house spotless had slipped away with the anxiety and stress that recently preoccupied her mind.

“Well, I had another dream.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake Ellie, not this again.” He immediately regretted the words that had spewed from his mouth, though they were instinctual and he had no control over them.

“Are you going to listen to me or not!” Ellie’s raised her voice, though it crackled mostly with fear and not anger.

“I’m sorry. Go on.”

“Remember I told you that dream I had about Abby?”

“Darrow’s wife?”

His disbelieving tone irked her but she continued without saying anything. “Yes, that’s her.”

“What about her?”

“Well it seems that Aiden’s been dreaming about her too.”

“What?” Randall stood up. “I thought I told you not to mention any of this to him, no wonder he’s having nightmares.”

“DAMN IT RANDALL, SIT DOWN!”

Her tone left no room for argument. Randall sat back down and waited silently. When she began again her tone was soft.

“I didn’t mention her at all to him. That’s why it’s so disturbing.”

“You told me that he heard you screaming her name in your sleep and that you were frightened he might be worried about you.”

“Well yes, I guess I did mention her name to him, but that’s all.”

“That’s all it takes, you know how active a kid’s imagination can be.”

“I mentioned her name, that’s it. I didn’t tell him anything about her and it seems that he’s been having dreams about her too.”

“How do you know he’s been dreaming about her then? Did he just come up to you and say ‘hey mom, I’ve been having some weird dreams lately?’”

“No, nothing like that.” She gave him a disapproving look. “You know how I told you about how I ran into Belinda Dawson the other day down at the store?” Randall nodded. “Well Aiden thought her name was Abby.”

“So he got confused, it happens.”

Ellie shook her head from side to side. “Uh uh, not like this. I think he confused her because of her wheelchair.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“Every time I dream about Abby she’s in a wheelchair. I asked Aiden why he thought her name was Abby and he said he recognized her from his own dreams, recognized her because of her funny chair with wheels on it.”

“So, he’s probably just recalling what you said. It’s his way of empathizing.”

“Randall, I never told him that Abby was in a wheelchair.” She let the last word hang in the air for emphasis.

“You must have.”

“I didn’t.”

“Ellie, there’s no other way.”

“Damn it Randall! You’re not listening to me! I know it sounds crazy but I believe Aiden’s been having the same dreams that I have.” She waited for a response. Randall had nothing to say, so she continued. “I didn’t tell him about the chair, I’m sure of it.” She paused. “And there’s more.”

“Okay, what else?”

“I had another dream. About McGinty and George Talcott.”

“The guy who built Talcott Manor?”

“Yes.”

“What about him?”

“I dreamed that he told me to help Abby. I did some research at the library and I found some old newspaper articles, and well, he appeared exactly as I pictured him.”

“That’s not unusual, you’re just imposing him into your dreams that’s all.”

“Randall, until I dreamed about him I’d never even heard of George Talcott, or John McGinty, who it turns out happens to be my great great grandfather, and I certainly didn’t know what the hell they looked like. But there they were, jumping right out of the newspaper, exactly how I dreamed them.”

Randall sat stumped. “Ellie, I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything, just listen. Are you ready to do that? Are you ready to listen without judging me or thinking I’m crazy?”

He nodded again. And then Ellie started at the beginning, retelling her dream down to the last detail. Randall listened without interrupting, not wanting to believe any of it, but fearing he had no choice.

Jack Darrow was just returning home with his latest purchase. He had spent the better part of two hours down at Peninsula Tack and Feed Store. He had put the clerk through the ringer with a variety of questions, making the teenager call a local veterinarian to get the answers he wanted. He hoped that his questions hadn’t provoked too much interest, but then again what the hell did he care? He hadn’t provided his name and he had paid cash so it didn’t make much of a difference. These days he did his best to remain cautious. However, he knew that the damn pigs had been watching him, like vultures they circled about him studying his every move. After making sure that he wasn’t being followed he had pulled into the store and began looking for his item.

His story had been simple. He described how he had just purchased an unruly mare and was having trouble saddling and bridling the animal so that it could be broke. Fearing that he or the animal might be hurt he had hoped to administer a horse tranquilizer to keep the horse in a relaxed state. Most of the tranquilizers were federally controlled and administered only by veterinarians, but he assured the young lady that he only needed a mild sedative and that whatever she had available would probably do just fine. Shortly after that he walked out of the store carrying three large syringes full of sedative.

Administering the drug to Abby would be difficult, he had no idea how much of the drug would give him the desired effect. He assumed it wouldn’t take very much so he would start out with just a little bit and inject more if needed. She had to be conscious but incapable of interaction. The last thing he wanted was for her to strike up a conversation with Brad Jennings, even if her words were barely discernable. She had an uncanny way about her that let her speak her mind even if her tongue didn’t work the way it once had.

He struggled to open the front door fumbling with his keys and juggling the brown bag with the tranquilizer as well as the vase of flowers he had picked up for Abby on the way home. It might make the lawyer a little less likely to think Abby was being
mistreated
. At last he found the right key and turned the lock. He closed the door behind him and proceeded up the stairs, left down the hallway, and then right into Abby’s room. She was sitting in her chair next to her nightstand staring out the window, exactly where he had left her this morning.

Abby heard him come in but continued staring outside. The skin on her arms was tingling the way it always did when Jack was up to something. It was like she had internal radar that let her know when Jack had a particular intention in mind. Perhaps he was predictable, a creature of habit, and all of her years spent observing him tipped her off when a plan was circulating in his head. Whatever the reason for her insightful perception, one thing was certain; whenever Darrow had intentions they were never good.

“Hey baby, I’ve got a little somethin’ for ya.”

He placed the vase of flowers on the nightstand, and then he came around and knelt down beside her, an ominous brown bag was clutched in his right hand.

“Wass da?”

“It’s just a little medicine darling. It’s supposed to help you with your pain.”

He withdrew a large syringe from the bag and removed the plastic cap revealing a four-inch long needle. Abby’s eyes opened wide in shock and terror.

“Now don’t be frightened baby, it’s not going to hurt. I can stick you in the leg where you won’t feel a thing.”

“I don wan ih.”

“Nonsense, it will make you feel better.” He tapped the needle a couple of times and depressed the plunger slightly until a few drops leaked from the tip.

“Noh.”

Abby tried to wheel herself backwards but Jack had applied the hand brake and the wheels held firmly in place. He looked down at her with the fire in his eyes that she feared so much.

“Now you listen to me you little bitch. I’ve got a very important meeting tomorrow that could mean a lot of money for the both of us and I can’t have you running off at the mouth and screwing it all up, you understand me?”

He gripped the needle in his right hand and extended his tongue in concentration as he looked for a meaty spot in her leg. He had dressed her in shorts this morning and Abby doubted that it was a coincidence.

“Noh, I sa I don wan ih!”

She pushed his arm away. Darrow was stunned for a second, surprised at the unexpected strength in her arms. She had definitely been getting stronger, wheeling herself all around the house when he wasn’t home like a snot nosed child always sticking her hand in the cookie jar when mother wasn’t looking. He would teach her obedience yet. He brought his left hand around in a giant arc, generating as much speed as he could from his kneeling position. The back of his hand collided with her cheekbone, hard. Abby’s eyes watered as she watched the needle disappear into the meaty part of her thigh. Jack depressed the plunger just a little bit and then immediately withdrew it. A small drop of blood oozed from the wound, a perfect red pearl. Abby wondered if he had just administered a poison that would end her life. She didn’t think that was beyond him, not anymore. She knew Jack Darrow was capable of murder. He had done it before, and she had no doubt that he would kill her too if it suited his needs. He stood up and backed away a few feet and then he just stared at her, watching.

“Wah di ooh gi mah?”

“Just something that will make you a little sleepy that’s all baby. Now how do you feel?”

Abby didn’t answer. The drug worked fast through her system, starting at the top of her hips where she still had feeling and working its way upward, numbing her as it went. She let out a startled cry. She was already paralyzed from the waist down and she didn’t want to lose the feeling in the rest of her body as well. Soon her vision began to blur, her tongue felt think and heavy, drool poured out of her mouth, which was agape now against her will. She was vaguely aware of Jack checking his watch, four or five images of his arm turned upward as he gazed at his wrist.

“Bee baack in aah couple of hoooursss baaabeee.”

She could barely make out the words that spewed from his mouth in a long drawn out sentence. Then he turned to leave and Abby listened to his footfalls as his boots echoed behind her before disappearing down the hall. Her drool was dripping from her chin now, falling between her legs in long sticky strands and making a disturbing splattering sound on the vinyl seat of her wheelchair. She struggled to remain conscious but the haze was growing around her head. She felt her eyelids close slightly. With as much strength as she could conjure she tried to move her arms, command her hands to obey her will, but they just lay at her sides, lifeless and unresponsive. Her worst nightmare had come true; she was paralyzed, completely paralyzed!

Inside her head Abby Darrow screamed, a long pitiful wail that only she could hear. Damn him to hell she thought. She was married to a monster. Damn him to hell where he belonged, and she swore to herself if she ever regained the use of her arms that’s exactly where she’d send him.

Outside the sunlight was fading quickly, fading like her grip on reality. The last few rays poured in through the window dancing around her in fuzzy auras. Her head began to bob, she couldn’t feel it but she could tell it from the way her vision jumped up and down. She began to cry softly, and her hope began to die.

Aaaaabeeee. Aaaaabeeee.

The voice was emanating from somewhere inside her head, taunting her she thought at first.

Aaaaabeeee.

Caaaan yoooouuu heeeaar meeeee?

The words were thick, even within her own head.