Out of the Black (18 page)

“You expect me to believe she’s been with you, at your home, this entire time?”

“It is the truth.”

“You wouldn’t take that risk.”

“The risk was minimal,” Pinnell said. “It was only to be one night.”

“One night?”

“Any longer, and it would’ve become difficult to keep her in the country. We thought it would be better to—”

“In the country?”

Pinnell paused. “We thought it would be better to relocate her to a place with fewer eyes. Missing children in America attract a great deal of attention.”

Nothing he was saying made sense, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all part of some game. Pinnell was too smart, too careful, and hiding Anna at his home was not only sloppy, it was dangerous.

“I can’t believe you’d be that careless.”

Pinnell looked down at the pond. “My wife was not the only one your friends stopped from reaching the airport this morning. Our plane was ready, and your daughter was scheduled to fly.”

“What?”

“After what happened, what she witnessed, our choices were limited. She had to be removed, one way or another.” He looked up at me. “My wife convinced me to choose the more humane option.”

“You son of a bitch.”

Pinnell set his cane between his feet and folded his hands over the top. “I hope, once you have your daughter back, you’ll show the same compassion for my family that my wife has shown for yours.”

I didn’t know what to say, and for a long time, all I could do was stand there and stare at him.

After a while, he nodded toward the passage and said, “She’s waiting for you, Mr. Caine.”

Murphy was standing at the end of the path when I walked out.

I held out my hand, palm up. “I have to go.”

Murphy looked at my hand then motioned past me toward the bench where Pinnell was sitting. “Did he tell you?”

“She’s at his house.”

“What?”

“I tried calling there, but—”

“They won’t answer that line again.”

I nodded. “I have his address.”

“Do you believe him?”

“No choice.”

“What if he’s lying?” Murphy asked. “Are you prepared for that?”

I told him I was, but it wasn’t true. Not only was I not prepared, I couldn’t even bring myself to think about the possibility.

Murphclass="indent"

The Vogler brothers’ truck was still out front, but there was no sign of them or of Pinnell’s driver.

I crossed the lot to Murphy’s GTO, climbed in, and started the engine. When I pulled out of the parking lot, I turned toward the highway and headed south.

My arms felt weak, and my stomach rolled. I kept thinking about Anna and what I would do if she wasn’t there. The more I thought about it, the more my thoughts turned dark, and the faster I drove.

I caught myself more than once and slowed down, but my mind kept spinning, and I knew I had to do something to stay calm.

I reached into my pocket and took out the cell phone.

I dialed Carrie’s number.

She answered after the first ring.

“Oh, God, Matt.” She talked fast. “That bar, it’s all over the news. Someone burned it down, and they found bodies outside.” Her voice cracked. “I didn’t know if it was you or—”

“Carrie?”

“What the hell is going on, Matt? I didn’t know where you were or how to call you.” She took a breath. “I’ve picked up the phone so many times to call the police, but—”

“You can’t do that.”

“I know, I know.” She exhaled into the phone. The air came out in stuttered clips. “Thank God you’re safe.”

“I’m safe.”

“Anna?”

“I think I found out where she is,” I said. “I’m on my way there now.”

Carrie’s voice broke, and I heard the tears come all at once.

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to.

“I don’t have her yet,” I said. “But I’ll call you when I do, I promise.”

Silence.

“Carrie?”

“I’m here.” Her voice was quiet. “I just—”

“It’s okay,” I said. “Don’t worry.”

Again, silence.

“I’m sorry, for all of this.” I hesitated. “I never meant to—_Io“How do you know that?””

“Just be safe, Matt.” She stopped, and when she spoke next, her voice was steady and clear. “And bring her home.”

Roman Pinnell’s house was tucked up against a low hill covered in scrub oak. The lawn was long and framed on both sides by a tall privacy hedge. There was an oak tree out front, old and wide, and the snow-covered branches spread out over the yard in a canopy of white.

I drove by and parked a block over.

The house looked quiet, and the last thing I wanted to do was draw attention. I knew people in the neighborhood
would notice a strange car parked at the curb, especially if that car was a battered orange GTO.

I got out and walked around to Pinnell’s street and started toward the house. If my knee hurt, I didn’t notice. All I could think about was seeing Anna, and even though there was no pain, each step felt heavier than the last.

When I got to the house, I started up the walk to the front door. There was a rustle in the hedge on the far side of the lawn, and when I looked over, dozens of blackbirds lifted into the air and scattered above me.

Tiny shadows against a chalk-white sky.

I stood on the porch and reached down to open the door, then stopped. It occurred to me that the men inside didn’t know I was coming, and they didn’t have any idea who I was. If I walked in without warning, things could turn bad fast.

The French doors opened, and the man behind me pushed me inside. I tripped over the doorjamb and went down hard. Several hands grabbed me, dragging me away from the doors and across a hard linoleum floor into a kitchen.

I tried to say something, but before I could, I felt a knee dig into my back, forcing all the air out of my lungs.

Then my hands were behind me, and I heard the long rip of duct tape. Once my hands were wrapped, the guy behind me stood up, and I sucked the air into my lungs, coughing, trying to speak.

“Wait, I—”

I tried to turn, but then the hands were on me again, dragging me up and across the floor. Someone opened a door, and I was pushed through. The floor under me gave way to nothing, and for a split second I felt myself fall, rolling down steps and landing hard on a cement floor.

I looked up toward the light at the top of the stairs and saw a dark figure, silhouetted in the doorway. He stared down at me as I tried to find my voice.

“My daughter, she’s—”

The figure stood for a moment, then stepped back and slammed the door, leaving me in darkness.

Once I caught my breath, I rolled over and tried to work my way up off the floor. I managed to slide my legs under me and sit up.

The room was dark, and it took a while for my eyes to adjust. Even then, all I could see were dim shapes and shadows.

The tape around my wrists was tight, and my hands were turning numb. I sat forward and twisted them back and forth to get the blood flowing again.

It helped a little, but not much.

There was a thin slip of light coming from under the door at the top of the stairs, and I inched over. My left knee throbbed, and the pain was constant.

“Hey!” I shouted at the door, trying to keep my voice steady. “This is a mistake. I’m with Leo and Eddie.”

I listened, but there was only silence.

“I’m the one who called,” I said. “I’m working with Murphy. My daughter is here.”

Still nothing.

I could feel+ o“How do you know that?” all the anger and frustration build inside me, and it didn’t take long for it to overflow. I screamed out and fought against the tape around my wrist.

“Open the fucking door!”

But they didn’t, and I lost my balance and tipped sideways onto the cement. This time, my head landed on something soft. At first, I thought it was a pillow, or a pile of clothes. Then I felt something cold and wet against my cheek. An instant later, the smell hit.

Urine.

I jerked away, pushing myself across the floor.

There were two of them, their bodies lying side by side, legs folded together, barely visible in the shadows. I assumed they were Pinnell’s men, but I didn’t know for sure, and I didn’t care.

I focused on my breathing and tried to keep calm.

I don’t know how long I stayed there, but when the door at the top of the stairs finally opened, the light burned my eyes.

Two men came down the steps. They grabbed my shoulders and pulled me to my feet.

“This is a mistake,” I said. “I’m—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

One of the men got behind me, and I heard the click of a box cutter and felt the tape give way under it.

“What the fuck were you thinking coming here?”

“My daughter,” I said. “She—”

But before I could get it out, they jerked me toward the stairs, and the pain in my knee sucked the breath out of me.

“What’s wrong with you?”

I reached out and grabbed the railing beside the stairs and tried to catch my breath.

“My knee,” I said. “I can’t—”

The man with the box cutter shook his head and mumbled something under his breath then started back up the stairs.

The other one turned to me. He had a thin beard, scattered gray, and a curved white scar that ran along his upper lip toward the bottom of his nose. “Whatever’s wrong with you, figure it out quick.”

“My daughter is here,” I said. “I have to—”

“Your daughter?” The man stared at me, and something in his eyes changed. “You’re the one.”

“Pinnell told me she was here.”

“Did he now?” The man smiled and shook his head. “There’s no kid here, pal.”

“No.”

I pushed past him and braced myself against the railing and climbed the steps into the kitchen. I walked through to the living room then down the hall, checking doors as I went.

The men followed behind me.

I heard my own voice, far away, like a whisper, repeating the same word over and over. “No. No. No.”

I got to the end of the hall and felt a hand on my shoulder. When I turned, the guy who’d cut the tape from my hands was standing in front of me shaking his head.

“Not that one.” the lightwhs out of