The Portal ~ Large Print (7 page)

U
nder gray thunderclouds,
dozens of statues guarded Saint Lucia Cathedral and its connected graveyard. Some angelic sculptures seemed to protect the dead with prayer, while others were of the Old Testament variety with swords in hand. Vivian prayed for assistance from the latter. Forgiveness would be no part of the plan to get Cody back tonight.

Staring at her mother’s grave, she couldn’t shake her guilt. All her life, she’d promised that she’d be a better mother than her own. Now, the string of drunken boyfriends and parties seemed far better by comparison. She felt like screaming at somebody, anybody, but there was nobody to blame but herself.

Something splashed behind her. She turned. A blue Prius pulled up alongside the stone church. Erika opened the door, stood from the car, and smiled. Kinky, reddish-brown curls replaced her trademark long braids.

“Girl, you have got to calm down on the Jason Bourne shit. You’re wearing a sister out.” She laughed, walked up, and they hugged.

“It’s for your own good.”

“Please.” She flashed an uncaring look and primped her hair. “I know you like to think I need protection, but I can take care of myself.”

“Jarod found us. He has Cody.”

“Oh God.” Erika held her hand to her chest. “What are we going to do?”

“He won’t hurt him. I know he won’t hurt him.” She pushed the thought of those torn cheeks aside. The claws. If she focused on anything but the plan, she’d fall apart. “I’m getting him back tonight. I just need your help with a few things. Then pretend you never heard from me.”

“You must be kidding.”

“Did you bring it?” Vivian asked.

“In the back, and don’t change the subject.”

She walked over to the car’s hatch, opened it, and grabbed the shovel.

“Hold up,” Erika said from behind. “Do you really think that I’m going to sit on the sidelines?”

“You don’t understand.” She turned. How could she convey the real danger without sounding nuts? “Jarod killed three boys last night. He almost murdered me.”

Erika looked horrified. She pulled out her cell from her purse. “We’ve got to call the police.”

Vivian put her hand over the phone. “You know I can’t do that.”

“But I can. He’s my godson. I’ll call and say I’m concerned for his safety.”

“If you do, they’ll pin everything on me. They’ve done it before.”

“You act like I’m not the one who picked you up from jail that night,” she said.

“Then you know what Jarod can do. Cody was in intensive care, and every single one of those pigs covered for him. They said I was unfit.”

“This is different. His fingerprints have to be at the crime scene. The evidence. This could be your chance to come out of hiding.”

She knew better. Some mistakes you never stopped paying for. Especially the ones made when you were nineteen, and headstrong, and stupid. And yet she felt guilty thinking of her marriage like that, because Cody had come from it.

“We can’t involve them,” she said.

“Fine, we’ll leave the police out of it, but that’s only more reason that you need my help.”

“We don’t have time to argue.”

Erika threw up her hands. “You have to be the most stubborn woman that I’ve ever known.”

They approached her mom’s grave in silence. Knuckled roots wove underneath the foundations of the statues. Vivian knelt and pulled away the overgrown weeds to find a headstone flush to the ground. She stood and punched the shovel into the grass.

“Don’t tell me that your plan involves digging up your mom?” Erika asked.

A bitter wind swept down from the dark clouds, as if her words carried some curse.

“It’s not what you think.” She looked around to make sure they were alone. “I have to get my money.”

“You buried it in your mom’s grave?”

“I needed a safe landmark,” Vivian said. Erika gave her a look. “It’s not as if I could’ve opened a bank account with it.”

“Hey, it’s your life. All I’m saying is that’s some serious bad mojo.”

Gravel popped behind them. She looked back to find a golf cart pull up behind Erika’s car. A middle-aged man got out and walked up to them. His maintenance uniform was cobwebbed and dirty. The cemetery’s insignia was sewn into the chest.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

Erika stepped between them and said, “You wouldn’t happen to have another shovel, would you?”

Vivian used the distraction to continue digging.

“I’m calling the police,” he said.

“Hold up.” Erika followed him back to his cart.

The shovel hit something. Vivian knelt and brushed away the loose dirt. Thank God. The nylon duffle bag was still there. She grabbed the handles and pulled. After several attempts, the bag broke free. The groundskeeper drove away.

“We need to go,” Erika said.

They walked over to the car, got in, and sped off. Approaching the gate to the cemetery, she saw the man talking to a coworker. He pointed at them as they passed.

“This just proves my point,” Erika said. “You’re going to need somebody to watch your back.”

“You don’t know these people. The things they’re capable of.”

“Cody is in the hands of a murderer.” Erika’s words seemed to steal the air from the car. “Are you going to send the one person who’s on your side away?”

She was right. It was crazy to think she could take on Jarod alone. She’d need an army to get her baby away from the Carmichaels. Or at least anyone who wanted to help.

“If you go with me,” Vivian said. “Please be careful. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

“Don’t you worry about me. I’m a big girl.” Erika turned onto Highway 101. “So where to?”

“I stashed this before I left him.” She unzipped the duffle bag, tore open the black plastic inside, and showed the stacks of bank-bound hundreds. In the front pouch, passports and ID’s. “I want to get in and out. This time, I’m going to have to leave the country.”

Erika whistled. “That man won’t see us coming.”

Vivian wished that were true, but her hollow stomach told her otherwise. Would he still be that monster? And if he was, could he be killed? That didn’t matter. Everything depended on her slipping into the estate, finding Cody, and disappearing without any contact. Still, she wasn’t about to break into his guarded compound defenseless.

“What’s the plan?” Erika asked.

“We get him back tonight, but we have to make a stop first. We need guns. Big ones.”

J
arod raced around
the corner onto Magnolia Street. For the last twenty miles, the roads had been relatively dark. Now as the minivan sped up the hill to the estate, rows of outdoor lights that lined the driveway pulsed in front of his eyes, making his head throb. He yanked down the visor.

They’d finally reached the estate, but he didn’t feel safe. Not after waking up in a stranger’s house covered in blood. And definitely not after Vincent’s mind games earlier. Nothing seemed real anymore. In this whole mess, he knew only one thing. For whatever reason, Mister Vincent wanted Vivian alive. There was no way in hell.

“Are we going to find Mommy?” Cody asked from the back seat.

“Soon.” He pressed the accelerator.

She’d come tonight. He knew it. Somehow, her death needed to look accidental. But how could he hide anything from Mister Vincent, a fucking demon? If he moved fast enough, it wouldn’t matter. Once she was dead, Vincent’s only option would be to forget it. That, or leave Cody orphaned. Something told Jarod that he wouldn’t do that.

“When are we going to find her?” Cody asked.

“I said soon.” He stopped at the guardhouse and rolled down his window. For the first time, the eight-foot wall surrounding the estate seemed inadequate. Leon exited the booth with his hand on his firearm.

“Just open the gate,” Jarod said. A blinding light punched his eyes. “Get that off me or I swear to Christ—”

“Sorry, sir.” The beam shut off. “I didn’t recognize the vehicle.”

“Open it.”

Leon moved to the booth, hit a switch, and the gate moaned. Jarod drove through. Within minutes, he managed to carry Cody into the study without running into any other staff.

Though the wall candles were decorative, he lit them. Shadows and firelight stretched across the bookshelves.

“Sit,” he told Cody, and then pushed the estate’s intercom button. “I need David Rankin in the study.”

Cody climbed onto the antique couch on the far side of the room. Using the remote, Jarod turned on the hanging television in the corner. He had to see if the police had any leads on the house fire.

He sat at his desk and did his best to conceal his arm. With Cody in the room, it wasn’t time for them to discuss what Vivian had done. The double oak doors whooshed open.

“You’re back.” Rankin stormed inside. In the dim light, the birthmark covering his left eye seemed more sinister. His trench coat and slick hair were soaked.

“You look like hell,” Jarod said.

“We caught a break while you were gone,” Rankin said. “Your wife’s sister contacted LAPD. We almost had Vivian in Los Reyes last night.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Jarod said.

“If we move now, we can catch her.”

“I told you that it doesn’t matter.” He pointed to Cody on the couch.

“You found him. Is she here too?” Rankin glanced around the room. His eyes came to rest on Jarod’s severed arm. “What the hell happened?”

“I’m fine, but there isn’t much time. She’ll come for him tonight.”

Rankin pulled his trench coat aside and grabbed the radio from his belt. “We need to lift you both to a secure location.”

“Put that away,” Jarod said. “We’re staying here.”

“T-Bar Ranch is secluded. I’ve already got men on standby.”

“Good. Bring them here.” He didn’t know what kind of backlash to expect from Mister Vincent once he killed Vivian, but more security couldn’t hurt.

“There are too many variables.” Rankin kept his hand on his radio. “There’s no way to really guard the back cliffs, the orchard is too dark and open, and she used to live here.”

“That’s what I’m counting on. When she comes, we’ll be ready.”

“You better be good,” Cody said. “Mister Vincent’s watching.”

Jarod bit his tongue. His own son was a goddamn surveillance camera. If his plan was going to work, he couldn’t tip his hand. Not to Rankin. Not to anyone without running the risk of Mister Vincent overhearing.

“I won’t touch your mother,” Jarod said, and then he turned to Rankin. “This ends tonight. Vivian and I are going to work everything out. Now get your men over here. I want the security alarms off. When she arrives, you’re going to leave a path for her to find her way inside.”

“What?” Rankin demanded. “She might bring a weapon.”

“The woman hates guns.”

“That wouldn’t stop her from hiring someone. As your friend, I’m telling you that this is a bad idea.”

“I think I can handle my own wife.”

“Yeah,” Rankin said. “I can see that.”

“I think you’ve forgotten who you’re talking to.” He stood. For a brief moment, he felt the urge to gut the man. To stand over his broken body.

“Do I look like a security guard to you? You take off last night without telling anyone. You show up today as an amputee. It’s my job to take the bullet that’s calling your name. What the hell did you expect me to say?”

“I expect you to do your job.” He grabbed his chair and sat back down at the desk. “I know what I’m doing.”

“You hired me to protect your life. I take that seriously.”

“I know. That’s the only reason I’m going to forgive this incident. Now take my son to his room. We’re not leaving.”

Rankin didn’t move for a second. Finally, he looked at Cody and said, “Let’s go.”

“There’s just one more thing.” Jarod motioned to Rankin, who walked close and leaned down. “If you ever speak to me like that in front of my son again,” he said quietly. “I’ll bury you in the rose garden.”

***

S
tromsky parked in
darkness just outside of the Carmichael estate. So far, everything had fit the plan. Jarod had just arrived. Vivian was on her way. Perfect. His cellular phone rang. He reached into his inner coat pocket and answered.

“Mrs. Carmichael on the line,” her assistant said. “Please hold.”

Though the man’s tone was curt, and quite rude he might add, it didn’t reflect on Charlotte. Good help was impossible to find these days.

“Kevin, darling.” She finally came on the line. “It’s been far too long.”

“Charlotte, your company is always worth the wait.”

“I take it that you’ve found my grandson.”

“He’s just arrived with his father now.”

“I see.” Her voice was unusually even. That could only mean one thing. The difficult decision of what to do with Jarod had been made.

“Shall I move?” he asked.

“My son has become a bit too much like his father. A liability to the Carmichael legacy.”

“I understand,” Stromsky said.
Dispose of Jarod discreetly
. “And what of Vivian?”

“A boy shouldn’t be separated from his mother, but I fear that she’s unstable and can’t be trusted.”

“I’ve already spoken with her this afternoon. She’ll be arriving tonight.”

“I don’t need to tell you that appearances must be kept,” she said. “My son should never have married that woman.”

“I understand.” A house fire would work well here, or perhaps a lovely automobile accident for the media to swoon over. Simple enough. “Your grandson will be in proper care by morning.”

“Please call when you’re finished, Kevin. We’ll meet for tea. We must catch up.”

“Until then, Charlotte.”