Terminated (23 page)

“All this because I gave you a bad review?”

“No, we’re long past bad reviews. If you’d simply done as I’d told you, we’d be fine, but you tried to set me up. Yes, I know about them. How do you think I evaded their surveillance?”

It was all there. Gwen couldn’t believe how easily he’d slipped every obstacle placed in front of him. No wonder her life was in the mess it was.

“You’re strangely quiet, Gwen. Keep it that way. No one will help you.”

Gwen could hear the enjoyment in Tarbell’s voice. He was loving every second of her pain. Tears streaked her face, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry.

“Is that all you’ve got to say?”

“Just one more thing. Kirsten is next.”

“G
wen, what are you doing here?” Ingram asked.

One of Ingram’s people had his hands
out, blocking Gwen from getting any farther than the doorway to PSI’s offices. The rest of Ingram’s staff watched her, ready to get involved if she didn’t back down. Ingram stepped in front of his investigator and told the guy blocking Gwen’s access that it was OK but made no move to let her enter. The investigator returned to his desk.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Gwen, we don’t have any business. Not anymore.”

These weren’t the words Gwen needed to hear. She had to get someone to listen. “Please.”

Ingram hesitated, then nodded. He led her into his office and closed the door. She knew he was sympathetic to her plight; it was why she’d come, but his expression was stony.

“Gwen, you’re making this situation worse for yourself.”

How could she make it any worse? It was a joke under the circumstances. “My husband is in a coma right now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?”

“He was lured to a bogus job interview, beaten, and left for dead.”

Ingram lost the faux concern and genuine
worry entered his expression. “That’s terrible.”

“It is, especially as the person responsible is free.”

Ingram’s expression tightened. “Stephen Tarbell.”

“Who else would it have been?”

“Gwen, please. You can’t keep pointing the finger every time something bad happens.”

“I’m not. He called me, told me he’d attacked Paul, and that Kirsten was next.”

Ingram was silent. It was a good sign. Gwen hoped she was penetrating his thick layer of professional loyalty. He was a good guy, not some gun for hire. He cared about right and wrong. She’d known it from the moment she’d met him. She just needed him to believe in her, her situation, and Tarbell’s boundless hate. Once she had Ingram back on her side, Kirsten would be safe. Her hopes grew with every minute he remained silent. He knew what Tarbell was like. He’d come around.

“I’m sorry, Gwen, it’s not enough.”

Days ago, a remark like this would have wounded her, but not mortally. Today, it was a stake through her heart. Her life was in shreds. She had nothing to cling on to. She dropped her head in her hands. “When is it going to be enough? When he sends you a videotape of him killing me?”

“Gwen, you’re being ridiculous.”

She shot him a look. “Oh please. You can’t be ignorant enough to believe Stephen Tarbell is innocent in all this and that I made everything up. Way too much has happened.”

Ingram’s expression tightened at being called ignorant. Gwen didn’t care. She needed him emotional. He’d act if he was angry.

“Gwen, I’ve shown you every courtesy. I’ve helped you where I can, but you’re testing my patience.”

“Mr. Ingram, I’m begging you to do something.”

“Is this what it’s going to be like from now
on? Every time something happens to you, you’re going to point the finger at Stephen?”

“Only when I know he’s done something.”

Ingram shook his head. “I should tell you that Pace Pharmaceuticals filed for a restraining order against you yesterday. Expect to be summoned for a court hearing in forty-five days. Let this be a wake-up call. You’re heading down a destructive road, but you can turn back.”

A restraining order
, she thought.
It was obscene
. Suddenly, Tarbell’s comment on the phone that nobody would help her made sense. Nobody would help her because she was no longer seen as the victim. “When did I become the enemy?”

“When you accosted Tarbell in the parking lot.”

“The man held a knife against my throat, and you didn’t take that sort of action.”

“That was different. We were investigating a case against an employee. You aren’t employed by Pace anymore. They’re protecting themselves.”

Gwen shook her head. “This is unbelievable.”

“Gwen, you brought this upon yourself. You accosted Tarbell in public. What did you expect?”

“Some support. You promised to protect me.”

The remark hit home. Ingram sank back into his chair. “You’re right. I did promise you. The investigation didn’t run true to procedure. I’ll talk to Deborah and see if I can’t get them to drop the restraining order, but I need you to promise you’re going to stay away from Pace and Tarbell.”

“None of that helps me. It doesn’t keep Tarbell away.”

Ingram shook his head. “You’re not making this easy on yourself.”

Easy. She couldn’t remember what that felt like. She went to the window and stared outside just to avoid Ingram’s disapproving look. “I’m just trying to get someone to stop
Tarbell from hurting me and my family.”

Ingram frowned.

“Did you ever believe me?”

“I believe something happened between you and Stephen and it escalated.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Ingram was silent for a second. “Yes. I believed you. In the beginning.”

“And now?”

“The evidence doesn’t back up what has happened to you recently.”

The truth hung heavy in the air between them.

“Gwen, put this behind you. Your family needs you right now. It won’t do any of them any good if you’re in jail, and that’s where you’re going to end up if you don’t forget about Stephen.”

“So you’re not going to help me?”

“No.”

There was a finality in Ingram’s one-word answer that left no room for misinterpretation. It was the closing of a door, the severing of a lifeline, the death of a relationship. Gwen could expect no further assistance from him regardless of what Tarbell did next. It left her cold and unsteady. She stood and walked out of Ingram’s office. Ingram followed her out and stopped her in the corridor.

“As a friend to a friend, you should seek some help, Gwen.”

“That was why I came to you.”

Gwen was thankful she’d found a sitter to take Kirsten for the day as she watched Detective Braga appear from behind a door marked “Authorized Personnel Only” carrying a folder. Gwen had gone to him after leaving
Ingram’s office. She’d given Ingram his chance to do the right thing, and he’d failed. It was time to turn to the police, which she should have done earlier. Screw Pace Pharmaceuticals’ need for privacy. Doors were closing around her, but one remained ajar. Tarbell had made a mistake. Every one of his attacks had been self-contained except for the attack on Paul. Paul’s beating was public. The police wanted the person responsible caught. She’d set them on him, and when they brought him in, it would reveal everything he’d done. She got up from her seat, where she’d been waiting for the last twenty minutes. Braga looked pleased to see her. It made a nice change for someone to feel that way.

“Thanks for coming in, Mrs. Farris. You beat me to the punch. I was going to call you this afternoon to see if we could talk.”

She hoped this was a sign of good news. “Have there been any developments?”

“Yes. Let’s go somewhere more private.”

Braga got Gwen a visitor’s badge and escorted her to an interview room. He closed the door and put the folder on the desk between them. It was slim, but it would be a lot thicker by the time she left.

“OK.” Braga opened the folder. “I spoke to the recruiter who set up the interview for your husband. The information about the man your husband met with, Greg Solis, was bogus. Solis doesn’t exist. Neither does the architectural firm Solis claimed he worked for. The phone number he provided tracked back to a prepaid cell phone. Whoever lured your husband to the building site attacked him and made off with his wallet, but that was all. That aspect worries me.”

“Why?”

“This guy went to a lot of trouble for your husband’s wallet. No, this situation is far too elaborate and a pretty flawed scheme for a plain mugging. You can only get away with it once before it raises the alarm.”

“Was anyone else scheduled to meet with
this Greg Solis?”

“The recruiter said Paul was the first of five scheduled interviews. I’ll be blunt, Mrs. Farris; this looks personal. Does your husband have any enemies holding a grudge?”

This was where she would stick it to Tarbell and let him know what it feels like to be under the microscope. “No, but I do. A coworker attacked me in the staff parking lot. His name is Stephen Tarbell, and I believe he did this to Paul.”

“Do you have anything to back that up?”

She was about to tell the detective about Tarbell’s call last night when she noticed the subtle difference in his tone. The friendliness had been replaced by a disbelieving element. The shift threw her a second and her words dried up. Before she could say anything, Braga plowed over her.

“Did you ever file a complaint with the police?”

“No, my employer wanted to deal with it internally.”

“Hmm,” Braga said. “You’re attacked by a coworker and your employer tells you not to go to the police.”

“Yes.”

“OK. And this would be the same employer and coworker who now have filed for a restraining order against you?”

Gwen groaned inside. She couldn’t have this get in the way. “It’s not how it seems.”

“I spoke to your
ex
-employer, and they weren’t very complimentary about your recent behavior.”

Bad news traveled fast, and it had tainted her in Braga’s eyes. He’d made up his mind about her and there was no changing it. Suddenly, the interview room felt small. Braga seemed to loom over her, and the wall pressed up against her back with no room for her escape.

“Stephen Tarbell attacked my husband. He called me on the phone to tell me about it last night.”

The words just bounced off Braga. He had his facts, as screwed up as they were, and he was going with them.

“Do you think I did this to
my husband?”

“No. Your alibi holds up, but I want this meeting to be somewhat of a warning to you, Mrs. Farris. I won’t put up with any falsified statements concerning Stephen Tarbell in connection with your husband’s attack.”

“I haven’t falsified anything.”

Braga held up a hand. “If the investigation leads to Stephen Tarbell, then make no mistake, I will arrest him and hit him with the full force of the law, but the same applies to you. If I find you’ve crossed any lines, I will come down on you. Is that clear?”

Gwen saw no point in arguing. The damage had been done. “Yes.”

“Then I need to get back to finding the person who hurt your husband.”

Braga saw her out and watched her from the doorway. She felt his gaze on her as she crossed the parking lot to her car. She pretended she didn’t notice him as she drove away.

As she pulled into traffic, the tears flowed. She thumped the steering wheel with a fist. How had it gone so wrong? How had Tarbell managed to twist the world into believing he was an angel and she was a demon? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

Looking back on it all, she saw how he’d done it. His demolition job was immaculate. No one stood in her corner. She could imagine him sitting in his home, gloating over his achievements. He’d ruined her, left Paul clinging to life, and it wasn’t enough. Now he wanted to take it out on Kirsten, and when he’d finished, he’d finally turn his attention back to her.

She had one thing to be thankful about. Ingram and Braga had proved no one would raise a finger to help her. It left her with two choices—surrender to Tarbell, or fight back. She palmed away her tears. She knew which choice to make.

T
arbell found the padded envelope on
his stoop when he checked for packages left by the mailman. No mailman had left this package. It hadn’t been stamped, and there was no return address. It just bore his name written in black marker. But he knew who’d sent this mystery package from the block printing on the envelope. He smiled and picked it up. He’d play along.

He looked at the street and saw nothing unfamiliar or out of place. He closed the door and ripped the envelope open. Out fell a cell phone with a note attached. The note was simple, just a phone number with the words, “Call me, please.” The writing matched that on the padded envelope.

A part of him wanted to be angry by this development. He hadn’t seen it coming. But because he hadn’t seen it coming, it pleased him. His actions had forced someone to act out of character. It didn’t matter what the significance of this move meant. The simple act itself proved that he was having a profound affect. It was a compliment in a lot of ways, which was no reason to lose his temper. This ploy was a sign of her desperation. That pleased him and far outweighed any angry feelings.

He stretched out on the sofa, switched on the
cell, and punched in the number. “Hi, Gwen,” he said when she answered. “You’ve intrigued me. What do you want?”

“I want to make you an offer.”

“If I want something from you, I’ll take it. There’s nothing you can offer that I can’t take.”

“You’re wrong.”

Gwen said this with such conviction it forced him to sit up. “Am I?”

“I have a proposal you can’t turn down.”

Gwen was fishing, but she had him hooked. He wanted to know more, but he was far from being yanked from the water.

“Why don’t you tell me, then?”

“No. Not over the phone. This has to be done in person.”

Tarbell saw through her and smiled. She wanted to lure him somewhere that would turn out to be some kind of police sting operation, or an excuse to turn his place over, or even where she could get the jump on him. It was a real shame. He’d hoped for so much more from her. Her desperation was so transparent.

“Have you forgotten about the restraining order?”

“I don’t care. I need to talk to you in person.”

“I don’t think so, Gwen. This has bullshit written all over it.”

“No, it doesn’t. I want to make you a unique offer. We’re well beyond cops and Pace Pharmaceuticals and anyone else you’d care to name. No one believes me. If they did, you’d be in jail right now for what you did to Paul, but you’re not. That’s because you’ve won, and nothing I can do will change that.”

“Then you have nothing to offer me.”

“But I do.”

“And you’ll only tell me in person.”

“Yes.”

Gwen made a persuasive case. He felt himself being tempted. This woman had nothing. He’d seen to that. Yet it wasn’t enough to know she was ruined. He was curious what she
might have in store for him. Did it have to do with the cops?

He couldn’t be certain. But something dug at him. The cell phone. If Gwen was in league with the cops, she would have wanted their call to be recorded and traced back to his phone. She didn’t gain anything by speaking to him on a cell that wasn’t registered to him.

He thought it over. If he met with Gwen and she tried to hurt him, he’d have the upper hand physically. If the cops were waiting, they had nothing on him. Gwen could make all the crazy claims she liked. He didn’t have to agree with them. Besides, he had that restraining order on his side to undermine her case.

“OK, Gwen. You win. When and where?”

The when was immediately. The where was The Overlook in Rodeo. It was a glorified bar that wanted to be a cutesy bistro on account of its view of the bay. The place was off the beaten track, literally. The Overlook sat where Rodeo abutted the water’s edge. He was forced to drive on a dirt track when the city’s roads ended. As he parked, he couldn’t help but notice the view was not so much of the bay as of a huge oil refinery leaking smoke from its vent stacks. It looked to be a hangout for the local Harley Davidson club, judging by the bikes parked outside. It definitely wasn’t a place frequented by Gwen and her family.

He parked in the dirt lot and walked in. The hostess, a blonde trying to live her life like a Tammy Wynette song from the looks of her, approached him. He waved her off when Gwen waved from a corner table by the window overlooking the mudflats and the refinery. He didn’t have to worry about being overheard. They were the only ones in the dining area. The half a dozen or so patrons kept to the bar. None of them looked like undercover cops. They were far too rough-and-ready. And the
location was far too secluded for anyone to be hanging around outside keeping tabs. So far, Gwen was being a good girl.

He slid into a seat opposite Gwen and turned it sideways so that he had a clear view of everyone’s movements.

“Suspicious?” Gwen asked.

“Always.”

She looked haggard and drawn. She usually had a sun-kissed complexion, but not now. Even in the dimly lit restaurant, dark circles ringed her eyes. It was good to know he was having an effect on her.

The hostess turned out to be their waitress, too. He ordered a Coke and an appetizer so that she’d leave them alone. After she’d delivered the drink, he asked to see Gwen’s purse. She handed over the bag, and he rummaged through it without finding a recorder but removed her cell, in case she was thinking about leaving an open line to someone.

“Wearing a wire?”

She laughed and shook her head.

“Open up your blouse.”

She did so without complaint. She unbuttoned her blouse past where her bra crossed her chest. He ignored the swell of her breasts and lifted his eyes when he found no sign of a microphone.

“Now we can talk,” he said. “What’s the offer?”

She buttoned her blouse. “Are you really going to kill my daughter?”

“Yes.”

His stark answer hit Gwen hard. Cracks formed in her stiff resolve, but she did a good job of keeping her emotions restrained.

“Why? She hasn’t done anything to you.”

“Doesn’t matter. It isn’t about her. It’s about you. She’s important to you, and it’s important to me that I hurt you; ergo, I hurt her to hurt you. It’s simple math, Gwen. You have to see that.”

“Haven’t you had your fill?”

“I would have if you’d stuck to our bargain and just changed
my evaluation, but you had to go back on your word. You had to tell someone. Believe me, I didn’t want this to go this far, but you couldn’t leave well enough alone. You had to keep betraying me. Everything that has happened is a direct result of what you’ve done to me.”

Gwen was shaking her head in disagreement. He saw the disgust in her eyes.

“You reap what you sow, Gwen. And you keep sowing.”

“My husband may never recover from his injuries.”

Tarbell shrugged.

“You don’t have any kind of remorse, do you?”

“No, the world is a cold place, Gwen. It took me a long time to realize that. Nobody really cares about me, so why should I care about them? That’s something you haven’t learned yet. It surprises me because you should have. Look at your life. Your husband was laid off not because he was a bad worker but because money was more important to his employers than his welfare. Pace didn’t stand by you in your weakest hour. They turned on you and fired you without a second thought. Your husband is in the hospital in need of special care, but that care will end when the insurance stops paying. Then who will care? Tell me that, Gwen.”

Tarbell realized his voice had risen. It wasn’t enough to draw the attention of the barflies across the room yet, but he needed to keep himself in check. He sipped his Coke to calm himself. “These things have nothing to do with your offer, so why don’t we talk about that and forget everything else.”

“My daughter’s life.”

“That’s not an offer. If you’ve brought me here simply to ask for mercy, you’re wasting your time.”

Gwen’s smile was humorless. “I know that. I want to know if you’ll spare her life if I give you something bigger and better instead.”

“Like what?”

“Me.”

It was Tarbell’s turn to laugh. “Gwen, I’m coming for you after I’m finished with Kirsten. I thought
I’d made that clear.”

“You did.”

“Then what are we doing here?”

The waitress checked in with them. These people always picked the wrong time. He sent her on her way with a look.

“Because I want to make it simple for you,” Gwen said. “You kill Kirsten, then you kill me. Great. You’ll have achieved everything you set out to do, but you’ll also leave a whole pile of shit behind you. Even the dumbest cop in the world isn’t going to walk away from Kirsten and my deaths, especially after Paul’s near murder. It’s going to spawn a messy investigation. You won’t like messy. People will come knocking on your door and poke about in your life. Even if they can’t prove anything, doubt will follow you like a shadow for the rest of your life. Trust me, I know from firsthand experience. Some dirt can’t be washed away. That isn’t what you want. You want a nice clean kill so you can move on with your life. That won’t happen if you kill my daughter and me.”

That wouldn’t happen. He was smarter than that. He’d killed his father and Petersen and no one had come looking for him. No one was after him for Paul Farris’s attempted murder. It stood to reason that no one would come after him for Kirsten’s and Gwen’s deaths if he did everything right. But there it was in glowing neon lights ten feet high for everyone to see—
if
. But he felt the
if
growing in size like a cancer. People like Petersen and his father were easy meat, but Gwen was different. He’d given her too many warnings. He was learning fast. Whoever he went after next wouldn’t get a heads-up like Gwen had gotten. Their life had to fall apart around them without them knowing why. Gwen had probably talked to the cops after Paul’s beating and mentioned his name, so he could see her point. They were linked, and while she couldn’t do anything about that in life, she could in death. Fuck. He’d screwed himself on this point.

“So what’s your offer?”

“Me for Kirsten. You skip her and you can
do whatever you want to me. I’ll guarantee you get your clean kill.”

“Forgive me, Gwen, I don’t see how you can make that guarantee.”

“I know a place. It’s on the coast close to the Oregon border. I grew up there. It’s quiet. You can do whatever you want. No one will ever find me, and no one will ever suspect you. I’ll just simply go missing. That’ll make perfect sense. After all the black clouds surrounding me lately, no one will give it a second thought if I run out on my family after I drove them onto the rocks.”

Tarbell saw the appeal. He knew he was giving up a kill, but he had no real interest in Gwen’s daughter or husband. It was a beef just between them. Shouldn’t it end with just them? It sounded right, but it also sounded too good. Gwen wouldn’t sacrifice herself without a little fuck-you along the way, but he’d take care of that. He’d outsmarted her so far and would continue to do so.

“How can I trust you?” he asked.

“How can I trust that you’ll leave Kirsten alone?”

It was a fair point. It had already crossed his mind to come after Kirsten once the dust had settled. It could be done, and he’d make it work.

“Trust is a tricky thing, Gwen. Tell me more about this quiet place.”

“North of Crescent City, there’s a place called Fort Richardson. It’s an island that used to be a coastal defense outpost. It’s a national park, but the tourist season ends next week, so it gets mothballed until the spring. Anything that happens there doesn’t get found until the tourists come back at Easter.”

Gwen stopped talking, and he just sat back soaking up the information and coming up with ideas for how to kill her. The concept of having Gwen to himself to do with as he pleased was spawning a host of ideas.

“Do we have a deal?”

“Can it happen tomorrow?”

“No. I need to tie up affairs and put Kirsten with
someone. Also, we should go the last day the island is open. Tomorrow there’ll be tourists and witnesses, and you don’t want that. So, do we have a deal?”

Tarbell picked up his Coke and sipped it. “I think we do.”