CHAPTER 62

Kelly, my father, and I are seated around my kitchen table with half-drunk cups of coffee in front of us, three pistols centered between them. Danny and Carl have taken the JetRanger back to Athens Point. Because of the guilt he feels about Caitlin’s kidnapping, Carl tried to remain behind, but the sheriff ordered him back, and that was that. The Ervin brothers are still outside, guarding us as they have almost from the beginning. Mom and Annie are sleeping in Annie’s bed upstairs. We’re on our third pot of coffee, and though everyone is exhausted, no one has made a move to a bedroom. I’ve been trying to wade through the Po file Lutjens sent me, but there’s so much raw data that I can’t really digest it. Ever since we were forced to abandon the helicopter search, a feeling of desperation has been growing in me. I want to do something-anything-to get Caitlin back.

“You want me to give you a shot so you can sleep?” Dad asks. “Just put you out for a while?”

“No. We don’t know how things might break tonight. I have to be ready for whatever happens.”

“Okay.”

“This is the toughest kind of situation to take,” Kelly says. “You have no control over events, and that’s hard to handle when you’re used to having it.”

“I’m about ready to say to hell with Po, call Caitlin’s father, and break this story nationwide.”

“Worst thing you could do. That’s the one thing that might force them to kill her. Po would be gone, and Hull would vanish like a puff of smoke.”

“He’s right,” Dad says softly.

“I know.”

Kelly leans forward and forces me to look him in the eye. “Sands isn’t going to kill her, Penn.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Put yourself in his shoes. Sands took her because he felt he had no choice. I don’t know what Caitlin did, but somehow she made herself a threat to the Po sting. As for why I’m sure they won’t kill her-apart from everything we’ve discussed-it comes down to this: Sands was looking into my eyes when I made that promise Monday morning. He knows that if Caitlin dies, he dies. Maybe not today, but one day soon. He doesn’t want to look over his shoulder for the rest of his life.”

“I think he’s lived that way since he was a kid. It’s a way of life for him.”

“He won’t kill her.”

Dad looks less certain. “Remember, Son, our greatest hopes and our worst fears are seldom realized.”

“That’s a fine sentiment. But in this case my greatest hope and my worst fear are opposite sides of the same coin. It’s either/or. Caitlin’s alive or dead. She’s coming back or she’s not. And as things stand, we have no control over the outcome.”

“She’s alive,” Dad says with conviction. “I know she is. I can feel it.”

My father has never been the mystical type. “Feel it? Aren’t you the one who told me that when you die, you’re dead?”

“I am. But sometimes I have a feeling about things. Things as they’re supposed to be.”

“What’s your feeling now?” Kelly asks.

Dad takes my hand and squeezes as hard as he can with his diminished strength. “Caitlin’s going to be part of this family for a long time. I know that. I refuse to accept any other possibility.”

For a few seconds I actually believe him. Then Kelly sits erect, grabs his pistol, and jumps to his feet. “There’s somebody outside.”

He’s right. Someone’s knocking softly on the front door. With Kelly in the lead, all three of us walk to the foyer. He motions us back, then, holding his pistol along his leg, leans against the wall beside the door and says, “Who’s there?”

“Walt,” says a male voice. “Walt Garrity.”

We all look at each other in surprise. Kelly reaches out and opens the door, aiming his gun through the crack. After a moment, he pulls Walt through the door and shuts it behind him.

“What happened?” I asked. “You have any word on Caitlin?”

Walt shakes his head dejectedly. “Nothing. I’m sorry, boys. I’m blown.”

“What do you mean?”

“My end of this operation’s over.”

“Let’s get back in the kitchen,” says Kelly. “You want some coffee, Walt?”

“I wouldn’t turn it down. I got a long drive ahead of me.”

In the kitchen Walt sits to my father’s right, and I sit opposite him while Kelly pours the coffee. Walt waves his hand over the cup to indicate he wants it black.

“So what happened?” I ask.

“They had the dogfight tonight, like I said. I went. Took a hooker with me for cover. I’ve had one with me every night. Started out with a white girl, local. Tipped her heavy and sent her home at the end of each night. But tonight I had a different one. Anyhow, when I got to the fight, it looked like Kelly was right. They were testing me. It was just a bunch of country boys fighting a couple of pit bulls. Had some hog dogs there too. Strictly low-rent. Still, everything was going all right. Then the fight broke up. Guess they got word somebody was flying the river in a chopper.”

“That was us.”

“I figured. After that, I told the hooker I wanted to go back to the hotel. I figured I had more chance learning something about Caitlin from her than from anyone else.”

“And?”

“You said the first hooker was white,” Kelly says. “Was this girl black?”

“No. Chinese. They got quite a few Chinese girls on Sands’s boat, and I thought she might have some inside poop, because of the Po connection. Her English was pretty bad, but there was something different about this girl. She reminded me of a girl I knew in Japan, during the war.” Walt looks at my father. “Kaeko, remember? That girl in Kobe I told you about?”

Dad nods.

“This girl’s name was Ming…” Walt trails off.

“So what happened in the room?” Kelly prompts.

“I don’t know, exactly. I just wanted to talk to her, which was stupid, because of the language problem, but when we got in there, she took off her dress and started to get in the bed. I told her I just wanted to talk. And then…then I started to talk. I told her about Kaeko, about my R and R in Japan, that stuff. She was listening, but she was taking off my jacket and shirt too. She got real quiet when she saw my derringer hanging around my neck, but then she smiled and took that off like it was no big deal. She pushed me down on the bed and started to get on top of me…and that’s when it happened.”

“What?” Dad asks.

“She stood up straight and started talking in a different voice. She went from sounding like a Hong Kong streetwalker to Greer Garson in about half a second. Told me to go back home to Texas if I wanted to stay alive.”

With a chill of foreboding, I get up and go to the counter, then shuffle through the pages in the FedEx package Lutjens sent.

“She took my derringer,” Walt says. “She held it on me as she backed out of the room.”

“What exactly did she say?” Kelly asks.

“She said, ‘You’re a long way from home, old man. Go back to Texas, if you want to live.’”

“Ming the Merciless,” Dad says softly.

“Ming the Merciful,” Kelly corrects him.

Walt watches curiously as I cross the room and hand him a five-by-seven photo of Jiao Po. Then he looks down, stares for a couple of seconds, and says, “That’s her. Son of a bitch. Who is she?”

“Jonathan Sands’s girlfriend. The niece of Edward Po.”

Walt’s head snaps up, his weathered cheeks flushed.

“She was supposed to kill you,” Kelly says. “Or to set you up for it, anyway. But something made her stop at the last minute.”

Walt blinks at Kelly.

“I bet the hotel maid would have found you dead tomorrow morning, probably from an apparent heart attack. A little Viagra by the bed…end of story.”

“Why didn’t she do it?” I muse.

Walt snorts and shakes his head. “Because she saw I was a broke-dick old bastard in way over his head. Damn, that’s hard to bear.”

“Would you rather be dead?” Kelly asks.

“Maybe,” Walt mutters. “What a way to finish up.” He looks over at my father, then me. “I haven’t helped you boys one damn bit. All I did was lose a bunch of your money. And I still don’t know how they copped to me.”

“They could have followed you here yesterday,” I point out.

“No. I’m sure about that.”

“Were you doing anything with the white hooker?” Kelly asks. “Sexual stuff, I mean?”

“Naw. Told her I was too old to get it up anymore, and she was fine with that. Less work for the same money.”

Kelly rubs his thumb and forefinger together with a sandpaper sound. “Still, if she told any of the other girls that, it might have drawn some interest. I doubt many johns pay good money without wanting something at the end of the night. At least a little strip show, if not a blow job.”

“Maybe,” allows Walt. “But I don’t think she would have told. She wanted me to herself. Why share an easy mark?”

“It doesn’t matter now,” I tell him. “You did what you could. Sands is a smart son of a bitch. You probably just pushed too far too fast.”

“I am getting impatient in my old age.”

Kelly gives Walt a “buck-up” smile. “No, you’re getting too decent for the work. If you’d screwed that first whore silly, they’d never have caught onto you.”

Walt’s face remains wrinkled with concentration. “It was the girl. Ming, or Jiao, whatever. Sands sent her to try and read me, and she did. Just like a book. To tell you the truth, I feel a little shaky now. Kelly’s right. I came close to buying it tonight, without even knowing it.”

Dad gets up slowly and gives his old friend a consoling pat on the shoulder. “That means your luck’s holding, Walt. That’s something to celebrate.”

The old Ranger shakes his head, his sense of failure palpable in the room. “No. I’d say that’s about as clear a message as a man gets that it’s time to hang up his spurs.”

“You’re not serious about driving back tonight, are you?”

“Yep. I never want to see that hotel room again, and I couldn’t sleep now anyway. Too much to think about. And Carmelita’s been patient with me. I need to get on back to Texas.”

Dad doesn’t waste time trying to persuade his friend to stay. He knows Walt’s mind is made up. “What can we do for you?”

“Walk me to the door, partner. That’s it.”

We all rise and follow him into the foyer. “A pretty poor showing for me,” Walt says, shaking hands all around. “But don’t lose heart. Kelly, you quoted that old ‘One riot, one Ranger’ saw to me on the night we first met. I’ll leave you with the real one we used to live by.”

The foyer falls silent, and Walt Garrity speaks with quiet conviction.

“‘No man in the wrong can stand up against a fellow that’s in the right and keeps on a’comin’.’ Cap’n Bill McDonald said that. Don’t you boys forget it, either, just ’cause things look black.” The old Ranger nods once for emphasis. “I’ll catch you on the turnaround.”

Kelly opens the door, checks the street, then leads Walt out to his Roadtrek. Dad and I follow, my hand on the pistol in my pocket. As Walt reaches his door, I hear the whine of a small engine being driven hard, then headlights flash over us. A Volkswagen runs the stop sign at Union Street, races up to where we stand, and skids to a stop.

Kelly has his pistol out a full second before I do, the weapon light mounted beneath its barrel illuminating the face of Kim Hunter, the reporter for the Examiner. The guy holds up both hands and shouts, “Penn, it’s me! Kim!”

“He’s okay!” I tell Kelly. “What are you doing here?”

“Are we safe out here?”

“Safe as anywhere.”

“I’m getting out.” Hunter climbs out of the Volkswagen, then walks to the rear of the vehicle and pops open his trunk. “Come here.” He bends out of our sight. “Hurry.”

Kelly lifts his gun again, but as we get to the back of the car, I’m stunned to find Caitlin staring up out of the small trunk. Her face is gaunt and her feet are a bloody mess, but her eyes are filled with tears of relief.

“She wouldn’t let me call the police,” Hunter says. “Or take her to the hospital. I’ve been driving around the block trying to see if it was safe to stop. When I saw you come out, I decided to go for it. She’s scared to death, and she can barely walk. What the hell’s going on?”

“We’ve got her,” I say, lifting Caitlin bodily from the trunk and holding her shivering body. “Thanks, Kim. Go home, before somebody sees you. Don’t talk about this to anybody, and don’t let anybody at the paper print one word.”

“Okay. Are you sure she’s going to be all right?”

“We’ve got her,” Kelly says. “We owe you, buddy.”

“No, you don’t. I love that lady, man.”

Kelly grins and pushes Hunter toward the open driver’s door. “Get going.”

As the Volkswagen pulls away, Kelly ushers Caitlin and me back toward my porch, his back to us as he turns left and right, covering the street behind us with his pistol. As we move through the door, I see Dad wave at Walt in the driver’s seat of the Roadtrek. Then the long, silver RV rolls up the street after the Volkswagen.


“Linda Church is dead,” Caitlin says, her bruised hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. “She hanged herself. I saw it. I mean, I found her right afterward. She was being held next to me. In a dog kennel.”

Caitlin’s sitting on my knee at the kitchen table, her bandaged feet resting on a pillow, my arms wrapped around the blanket my father put over her shoulders.

“How did you get away?”

She shakes her head as if there’s too much to explain.

“Do you know where the kennel was? We flew the river for hours looking for you.”

“I don’t. I walked so far, and everything looked the same. They took my cell phone, and I knew I couldn’t call you even if I had it, because they might hear. I saw a few cars, but I didn’t dare risk flagging anyone down. I kept thinking about that story your father told us, about the girl who got away from the brothel. I was afraid to talk to anyone.”

“How did you find Kim?”

“I finally came to a building in the middle of nowhere. A farm equipment place. I broke in and used their telephone. I figured Kim was my safest bet. But I was afraid to wait there for him. I thought the police might come.”

I lay my cheek against her back and hold her tight. “It’s going to be all right. You’re home now.”

“You don’t have any idea where Linda’s body might be?” Kelly asks, ever practical.

Caitlin closes her eyes and shakes her head. “I don’t…the dogs-”

“I’m going to put her in bed,” I say, seeing that she’s about to break down. “Dad, I want you to call every cop you ever treated and put a ring of steel around this house. I’ll talk to Logan in a few minutes. Kelly-”

“I’m there, bro. Going to the mattresses. About fucking time.”

Dad’s already picking up the phone.

To my surprise, Caitlin allows me to carry her to the ground-floor guest room. When I pull back the covers, she raises her arms for me to remove her sweat-soaked top, then pulls her pants off and climbs under the sheet.

“Did they hurt you?” I ask, surprised by how afraid I am to hear the answer.

She lies on her side, staring blankly toward my hip. “Not really. But the things I saw…what they did to Linda. I wish I’d let Kelly kill them. Quinn…” Caitlin lifts a shaking hand to her eyes, as though to hide them from some awful sight. “He made me watch him rape Linda, and she was sick. I don’t understand it.”

Almost afraid to touch her, I stroke her hair gently. “Beyond a certain point, there isn’t any understanding it. Sometimes the only way to deal with people like that is on their own terms.”

She lets her hand fall and blinks back tears, as though still wit nessing some immutable horror. “I never really understood that. I’ll never be the person I was before. I’ll never talk to another victim of a crime the same way again.”

“Don’t think about it now. Just try to rest.”

She closes her eyes, then opens them again.

“What about what Kelly asked?” I say. “You don’t have any idea where Linda might be?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t. Kim can probably tell you more than I can.”

“But you’re positive she’s dead?”

Caitlin blinks twice, then her chin begins to quiver, and tears stream down across her nose. “Penn…I had to use her body to get away.”

I don’t quite understand this statement, but something tells me not to ask for details.

“To distract the dogs,” she whispers. “I don’t…I don’t think there’ll be anything left to find.”

I lay my hand on her forehead and say, “Shhh,” just the way I do with Annie.

Caitlin wipes her nose and looks up at me, her eyes pleading for absolution. “I tried to get her to go with me. I tried so hard. But they’d broken her. You understand? She was alive, but there was nothing really left of her.”

“I’m sorry. Whatever you did, I’m sure it was the right thing.”

She squeezes her eyes tight, then nods once. “She couldn’t have made it. She knew that. She was so brave… I see now. She gave her life for me.”

“I want you to stop thinking about it, if you can. You’re never going to forget what happened, but right now you need to let it go, just for a while. You’re alive, and you deserve to be. Sometimes survivors don’t get that. I’m going to go out there and make some decisions. But I want you to call me if you can’t sleep.”

She tries to smile but fails. “I will.”

I stand slowly, shattered by the sight of this woman I know to be so strong reduced to near helplessness.

“Will you do me one favor?” she asks softly.

“Anything.”

“I want Seamus Quinn dead.” Caitlin locks her fingers around my wrist and squeezes until her arm shakes. “Not just dead. I want him to suffer.

I nod but don’t reply.

“Will you promise?” she asks, her eyes bright in the shadows.

“Let’s see how you feel after some sleep. We can talk about it then.”

Her eyes hold mine for several seconds, then she releases my wrist and turns over. “Nothing’s going to change my mind,” she says quietly.

“I’ll see you when you wake up.”

“Nothing.”

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