Into the Dark

62

Big Bear Lake, California

Stones pelted the floorboards of Bobby’s old Dodge pickup as he and Claire bumped along the gravel road that was Vista Lane.

“Thanks again for all your help,” Claire said.

“No problem.”

“I meant to ask, how’s the wireless reception out here? I’ve been having trouble with my cell phone and need to work on my computer.”

“It’s mostly good since they put up the new towers, but people down your way without landlines say it’s still really sketchy.”

“Great,” Claire said, sighing.

“Just keep your phone charged and keep trying. Calls seem to get through, eventually.”

“I will, thanks.

At the big granite rock they turned onto the pathway. Branches swept against the doors as the truck bumped along through the short stretch of dense forest before coming to the cabin.

The sight of it stirred memories.

Claire loved the soothing way the sunlight pierced the arching treetops and dappled the property. For a moment she blinked fondly, as if seeing an old friend. But the sentiment was eclipsed as she walked to the door.

It took several tries before she unlocked it.

After Bobby unloaded her bags and groceries from the truck, Claire offered him two twenties but he refused.

“Thank you again.”

“No problem. See you tomorrow sometime,” he said, then drove off.

Claire stood alone in the quiet of the cabin, wishing the tranquility were a sedative. She remained tense, from the trip, the day, everything. She checked her cell phone, the signal was good, but there were no new messages. Is anybody going to tell me what’s going on? She set up her laptop on the kitchen table, logged on and checked her email. No responses to her calls. She reviewed online news sites. Nothing new on Amber’s case.

All right, you’ve got things to do.

She put her groceries away and went to the master bedroom, remembering that Robert had kept an ancient portable TV around somewhere to catch Lakers and Dodgers games. She found it in the closet, took it out, turned it on and adjusted the antenna until she picked up an L.A. news channel.

She left it on to monitor reports on Amber while she unpacked a few things. Claire then undressed and went into the bathroom. It’d been a long, hard day and she wanted to wash off the grime and stress of the drive.

She’d eat something and then start work.

Reaching into the shower to turn on the faucet she stopped.

What’s that on the stall floor?

Claire lowered herself.

A dried stain webbed around the drain, lacy pinkish and with some muddied residue. Claire hesitated, guessing it was from Robert after he’d done some work outside-maybe he’d cut himself? She poured some shampoo over the stain, turned on the hot water. As she washed it away, she thought it had been ages since the cabin had a good cleaning. She considered hiring a cleaning service to scour the place.

While Claire showered, she planned the rest of her day. She’d go over her patient files to ensure she hadn’t overlooked anything in her more difficult cases.

Overlooked anything? Who am I kidding?

Her ever-present guilt over Amber resumed gnawing at her. Claire resurrected Martha Berman’s advice and tried to concentrate on the things she could control. She stepped from the shower and toweled off. As she started dressing, her attention went to the TV and live news coverage of a motel under the graphic Arrest Made in Missing Woman Case.

She turned up the volume.

“…Again, KTKX has breaking news. The AllNews Press Agency is reporting that the LAPD has arrested Eric Larch at the motel behind me, the Palms of Paradise Motor Inn on West Olympic Boulevard in Los Angeles…We now have on the line Mark Harding the ANPA reporter who broke the story.”

A still photo of Mark Harding appeared in a lower corner of the screen.

“Mark, what can you tell us?”

“Eric Larch was identified as a person of interest in the case of his estranged wife, Amber Pratt of Alhambra, who has been reported missing. Police say they have not yet located the woman…the L.A. County Sheriff Department’s Cold Case Task Force has said that the Pratt case is linked to five unsolved murders of women across the L.A. area but so far they’re not confirming if Larch, who I am told is facing questioning, is suspected of being the so-called Dark Wind Killer who has written to the ANPA. Police refuse to discuss any aspect of their investigation into this very gruesome case.”

“Thank you, Mark… Again, an arrest has been made in the case of… KTKX will monitor this breaking development…”

Claire’s heart raced.

Oh, God, please find Amber.

Maybe Eric took her somewhere to talk? Maybe she got away and hid in a women’s shelter until they arrested him? Maybe she’ll try to call me?

A thousand more thoughts blazed through her mind.

If they find Amber tonight, how would she get back to L.A.? She’d call the store and pay Bobby or his mother to drive her. But how would Tanner or Robert reach her? Her phone seemed unreliable. She’d keep checking it and her email for messages. She’d call Tanner. She’d call Robert, Belinski, Julie, everybody. That’s what she’d do.

She’d call until she got answers.

Claire took a deep breath. Okay, calm down.

Eric’s arrest was a good thing. It might be the beginning of the end of this nightmare, she thought, and finished dressing. She stood in front of the dresser mirror and began brushing the tangles from her damp hair.

She stopped in midstroke.

Reflected in the mirror were the spindles of the bed’s headboard behind her.

Claire turned around.

Two sets of white braceletlike loops hung from the headboard-one at the lower end of each spindle at the separate side of the bed. Puzzled, Claire took one in her hand before realizing what the loops were.

Plastic handcuffs.

Small brownish clouds lined the edges, like dried blood.

Claire drew back the bedsheets and inspected the pillow, finding a few strands of long hair. She held them to the window, up to the fading afternoon light. The hair was not hers and it was not Robert’s.

Claire took a step back from the bed.

Suddenly she was engulfed in a storm of betrayal.

Robert had brought a woman to the cabin, to their bed. Was it Cynthia? Is this why he hesitated about selling it? He’s using it to bring her here for what? Some kind of bondage sex?

Claire bit back on her tears.

I’ve been such a fool.

She gathered her clothes and her bag and hurled them into the next room. Anger and pain pummeled her as she tried to think.

She couldn’t think.

She couldn’t breathe in this place.

She had to get outside.