
Wrecker
Dave Conifer
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2011 by Dave Conifer
Also by Dave Conifer:
Throwback (2004)
FireHouse (2007)
Man of Steel (2008)
eBully (2008)
Snodgrass Vacation (2009)
Acknowledgment
I'd like to thank author David Dalglish for continually providing motivation, encouragement and insight, and for keeping me moving in the right direction on this story.
Thanks also to my wife, LA, for giving me courage. I love you, LA, and thanks for editing.
Chapter 1
Steve Havelock watched the man that had to be Manteo emerge from the filthy white truck. The dark skin, tattered clothing and dirty work boots signaled that Manteo was somebody that made his living outside. His face was brown where it wasn't covered by a bushy beard that tapered to a point four inches below his chin. The beard rose to the space in front of his ears, where it gave way to his scalp. His head appeared to be clean-shaven beneath the blue bandana that mostly covered it. The other sales reps had looked softer and were armed with sprinkler system brochures, friendly smiles and clean hands. This one had none of those things; just a clipboard and a snarl.
He was as huge as Steve remembered. At least six foot five, Steve estimated, with a lean, heavily-muscled body thinly veiled by the grubby work clothes. Building sprinkler systems must be some workout, he thought to himself.
Manteo looked angry. He looked mean. While Steve had grown up in the safe suburbs playing rec soccer and having sleepovers, guys like this were already breaking the rules. He was the kind of guy that Steve had learned to avoid.
"Steve Havelock?" he grunted when he reached the bottom of the steps.
"Are you Mr. Manteo?"
"Yeah," he said, extending his hand. "Rob Manteo."
"I remember from the store." Steve had seen that hand many times. He thought of auto mechanics, the guy who drained the septic tank and the carpenter who built the deck at his father's house the previous summer. There was a strip of blackness beneath each nail that gave way to a brownish tinge that coated the ridges of his fingers and palms. Steve put his revulsion aside and shook the firm, scratchy hand. He felt strength, but knew Manteo hadn't done his worst.
"What kind of system are we talkin' about?" Manteo asked after the introduction was complete. "Front and back?"
"Yeah, front and back," Steve answered. "I want to cover all the gardens, too. And I'd like to be able to add on to the system later." All he could think about was washing his hand but he managed to talk sprinkler systems.
Manteo looked around the property and made some sketches and notations. "All right," he said before walking off. Steve cracked a smile as he watched this giant of a man pace off and record distances using nothing but his dusty boots and a pencil. While waiting, he mentally compared his own body with Manteo's. He was at least half a foot shorter but only a little bit lighter, he acknowledged as he hitched his chinos to where they hugged his love handles. At least I've got more hair than he does, he laughed to himself. On my head, at least.
"Who's that?" he heard from behind. It was Eddie Durham, back from the pizzeria. He held a flat white box with a brown paper bag balanced on top.
"He's doing an estimate for my sprinkler system. The guy at Home Depot recommended him when Allie and I were there the other day. This is the last one before I decide who to hire."
"They recommended that guy at Home Depot?" Eddie asked. "What's up with that?"
"They must be buddies. I was walking through and I saw this guy hanging around. Hard not to notice him. Next thing I know, I'm about to check out and the cashier asks me if I'm installing sprinklers. I guess they remembered me from the last time I was in. Anyway, he recommended this guy."
Eddie disappeared into the house with the pizza, leaving Steve to wait nervously for the contractor to finish sizing up the job. While he waited he walked a slow lap around his pride and joy, the expensive ice-blue Audi in the driveway. A few minutes later Manteo returned. Steve had invited all the others into the house to go over the estimate and make their pitch, but not this one. Instead, he leaned against the railing and waited.
Manteo didn't seem to have any expectation of being invited inside. He sat on a concrete step and scribbled on the clipboard for half a minute before he spoke. "Sixteen-hundred."
"Dollars? I mean, that's the bottom-line price?" Steve stammered.
"Yup."
"Okay. Just so I can compare your price, does that hook me up all the way to the pipes in the house and everything?"
"Yup."
"Can you leave a copy of the estimate?"
Manteo snorted and shoved his hand-scrawled notes and diagrams at him. "Do you want this?"
"No, I guess not. Sixteen hundred, you said?"
"Yup."
"Well, can you tell me about the system we're talking about? This isn't much to go on."
"You already told me," Manteo snapped. "I'm building the system you said you wanted. That's with a sixteen zone controller. You only got twelve zones. You can add zones later."
"What about the gardens? The old lady has to have it in the gardens."
"Yup."
Steve looked like he had more questions but Manteo's face made it clear that as far as he was concerned, they'd all been answered already. A minute later Manteo was pulling away from the curb in his battered truck. When Steve went inside he was enveloped by the smell of hot pizza. "Where've you been?" Eddie asked through a mouthful of cheese and pepperoni. "Hanging out with your friend?"
"Yeah, we're buddy-buddy now," Steve answered as he folded the diagrams up and dropped them onto the counter before washing his hands. With soap.
"Where's Jane?" Eddie asked.
"Yoga. She has that bullshit class twice a week now. She's probably twisting herself into a pretzel as we speak. It's like eighty bucks a pop, I think. But at least it gives me a couple free nights every week."
"Yoga's actually pretty cool," Eddie told him. "Ever tried it? There's a lot more to it than twisting around. It takes a ton of strength."
"Whatever. Give me a barbell and a bench press anytime."
"Yeah, looks like you're working out just about every day there, stud boy," Eddie said. "When's the last time you got near a barbell or a bench press?"
"Fuck you," Steve growled. "Yoga sucks and you know it."
"That was some rough looking guy. Marlboro Man meets Jerry Garcia," Eddie said with a laugh.
Steve flipped open the pizza box and pulled out two slices, which he plopped onto a paper plate. "Throw in some Hulk Hogan. Yeah, he gave me the creeps. But he'll install my system for practically nothing. I don't know how he makes any money. Some of them wanted four times as much. I don't think this dude has a clue. I hope he's better at building sprinklers than he is at selling them."
"The seller and the builder are two different animals," Eddie pointed out. "So you're going with this one?"
"Hard to resist the price, but did you see the size of him? What if he's some kind of retard or a convict or something? Is it safe for Jane and Allie to be here with him all day when I'm at work?"
Eddie smiled. "What are you going to do if you're here? Kick his ass?" He crunched on a pizza crust as he thought it over. "You should just go with him if he's the cheapest. So he was a little scary. Big deal. You're not hiring him to do brain surgery."
"That's what I was thinking. I don't think I'll tell Jane about his price, though. She'll think I'm being a cheapskate."
~~~
He told his wife about Manteo later without mentioning the bargain basement price. "He's a little skeevy," he warned. "It's not like we have to let him in the house or anything."
"That bad?" Jane asked. "Maybe we should choose somebody else."
"Nah. It'll be fine. If you're worried, just take Allie to the mall until he's gone."
~~~
Jane saw Manteo for the first time a few days later when she came home from her nursing shift at Peninsula Hospital. Remembering everything her husband had said, she watched him in the back yard while she removed her multi-colored nursing scrubs and changed into shorts. He really did look like a crazy killer in a cheesy TV movie. It didn't help that he was swinging a mattock wildly over his head. Funny, she thought. No tattoos. These guys usually have tattoos, don't they?
Like her husband she took note of his body, which looked like it had been chiseled from stone. He must be one of those guys who could run marathons or win triathlons. Not that he would ever enter one. He's probably never even heard of one.
He was so different from her. She didn't think she could even lift his tools. Her fair skin burned after just a few minutes in the sun, while he was brown from head to toe without any hint of sunburn. His jet black beard dominated his appearance; she had to spend five minutes with an eyebrow pencil every day enhancing her delicate strawberry blond eyebrows so they could be seen at all.
In a way the simplicity that surrounded the man was fascinating. It didn't look like life was very difficult to figure out for him. Dig in the earth, connect the pipes, take the money, move on to the next job. If it hadn't been time to pick Allie up at day care she probably would have kept watching. Sometimes she craved that kind of simplicity. The man probably had no regrets, very few worries, and never had to wonder about the path not taken.
Regrets were something that she had plenty of. She'd always thought she'd end up with a loving husband and a houseful of kids. Until they'd been married for a few years she thought Steve felt the same way. As a matter fact, she'd been sure of it. Something happened to turn him into something less than what he was, at least for her. He wasn't mean, he wasn't violent, nor did he gamble or drink. It was even worse: he was indifferent. Except for Allie her life was unsatisfying. And he'd already made it clear that there would be no more Allies. It took too much time, time that he'd rather spend with his buddies on the golf course or playing fantasy baseball. She'd recently come across the perfect word for how she felt and had stored it permanently in her head. Unfulfilled. Sadly, the most interesting part of her life was trolling for old friends and keeping in touch with current ones on Facebook, something she found herself devoting at least an hour to every day.
She watched as he paused and dropped the mattock at his feet and went down to a knee. After a few seconds he rose, only to stagger to the edge of a garden in the corner of the yard. Then he was back on his knees. She turned away as he vomited at the base of a rose bush. By the time she looked back he was back on his feet, wiping his mouth with the front of his shirt. Two deep breaths were all it took for his recovery. Must be from the heat, Jane thought.
He hurried over to a jumble of tools directly under the window and fished out a water jug which he lifted to his lips. As he gulped, rivulets of water streamed down his neck and shirt before disappearing into the waistband of his dirty work pants, which were already darkened with perspiration. When he finally he put the jug down and looked at the house she ducked instinctively. It was time to go, anyway.
~~~
"Looks like the caveman was here," Steve said as he shoveled rice into his mouth at dinner that night. "He got a lot done. Did you see him?"
"He was here when I got home," Jane answered. She leaned over far enough to slice up a hunk of chicken breast that had so far remained untouched on Allie's plastic Winnie the Pooh plate. The cranberry sauce was much more fun. "Take some bites, honey."
"He looks like some kind of freak but he works cheap," Steve said. "He'll be out of here soon enough."
She finished slicing the chicken and pushed the plate back to Allie. "I can't get over how big he is."
"I'll bet he's juicing. Nobody looks like that."
"What do you mean?" Jane asked.
"You know, steroids. Like the baseball players who go from scrawny to huge one season to the next."
"Come on," she scoffed. "Why would the sprinkler guy risk his health on that?"
"He probably doesn't even know it's risky. You think he's reading Men's Health every night? I'm telling you, he's on the juice. Eddie thought so, too."
"I'll just be glad when he's done," she said. "I don't like him being here when you're gone."
"It'll be okay," he assured her.
She spent a few minutes rearranging Allie's food but it was to no avail. She wanted to play with it, not eat it. "Come on honey, two more bites, okay?" Jane pleaded. She looked to Steve for help but he had that vacant look on his face. She knew he'd already tuned her out by then. "Are we still going to the Packer Inn for dinner on Friday?" she asked when it looked like he was back from wherever his mind had taken him. "We could drop Allie with Ann. They invited her to stay over. We could make a night of it."
"Damn, Jane, I have a feeling I'll be beat," he said. "We're having that internal audit this week, remember? Can we skip it? And damn, it seems like we were just there last week. I'll just want to watch the game."
~~~
"Get this," Steve said to Eddie as they each carried a bucket of golf balls onto the driving range after dinner the next evening. "I set a record last night. Jane was all over me after she got Allie to bed. At ten o'clock she drags me to the bedroom. Fifteen minutes later I'm back in my chair watching Sports Center with a cold one in my hand! All I missed was a few commercials and the deed was done, dude! Sometimes I think I'm living in a man's paradise."
"You're a romantic devil aren't you?" Eddie asked. "Ever heard of foreplay? Did she see the stopwatch?"
Steve laughed. "Now you sound like the old lady herself. Foreplay's for single people."
"I guess I'm old fashioned, then."
"Or maybe you're gay."
"Hey, I forgot," Eddie said. "Keep your eyes open for Eric. He said he would come by and hit a few with us."
"Who the hell is Eric?"
"Eric Griffin. Remember, he played first base for us last summer?"
"Oh yeah. The guy who looks like Ryan Howard except he's playing in the over-thirty softball league. He works for Regal? I thought he was a ringer."
"He works with me in the bean-counting department. He's a good dude. I didn't know he played golf until today."
"Whatever. Bring him on."
"So the Neanderthal started work around the house, huh?" Eddie asked.
"Yeah, he's got the whole yard dug up. He's a strange bastard. Jane says he's like a cro-magnon man. Real simple and shit. But I don't care as long he gets his job done. He can be as weird as he wants."
"I'll bet Jane doesn't see it that way," Eddie said as he pulled clubs from his bag and wiped the heads off with a cloth. "She's the one who has to hang around with him."
"I don't think they've even talked. She just looks out the window at him."
"I'll bet he believes in foreplay."
Steve laughed so hard he had to abort his swing halfway through. "I'll bet. He grabs them by the hair and makes them wiggle his club." Then it was Eddie's turn to roar.
When they were done laughing they finished off their buckets, packed up their gear and headed for the clubhouse bar. Steve picked up a pitcher of Coors Lite while Eddie hit the men's room before joining his friend at a table. Eric appeared almost immediately after they poured the first round. "Sorry guys," he said. "Couldn't get away." Eddie reintroduced the former teammates after pushing a chair out for Eric.
"You know, you should treat Jane better," Eddie told Steve after a few sips. "Maybe things wouldn't suck so bad if you tried harder."
Steve glanced at Eric before answering. "Who says I don't try? And who says things suck? She's just unrealistic. She thinks it should always be the same as when we were first together. When you're in love and all that. I get it. That was awesome. But it just doesn't work that way. Eventually everything gets old. Then you make do with what you have."
"I know what you mean. It has to settle down some. But if you put in a little effort you wouldn't be so miserable."
"She's just got crazy expectations. If I don't throw rose petals on the floor in front of her feet I'm an ignorant slob."
"I've been married longer than you and I'm not miserable," Eddie pointed out. "Because I make an effort. So does Valerie. So does Jane. Let's see, who am I missing?"
Steve finished his beer and immediately poured another, aiming right down the middle of the glass. "This beer sucks. You can't get a head on it to save your life, like in the commercials."
"I've never seen that on a Coors Lite commercial."
"So, what, did Jane put you up to this little pep talk?" Steve asked bitterly.
"No! I'm just looking out for you, man. You're heading for trouble."
Steve took a swallow before bringing his glass back to the table. "Look, Eddie, don't take this the wrong way, but how about getting off my back about it? It just hasn't been the same since that bust up at work. I was so freaked that I wanted to quit and go manage a donut shop but she didn't even give a shit. I couldn't even talk to her about it. When the chips were down she wasn't there for me. I can't forget that."
"That was a tough time," Eddie agreed. "Doesn't sound like Jane, though."
"You're in programming, right?" Eric asked.
"Yeah. Barely, though, after all that went down. For a while there I thought I'd get canned. I sure as hell wouldn't be in line for the QC Czar job except we weaseled out of trouble. Otherwise I'd probably be doing data entry."
"I can't wait to start calling you that," Eddie said.
"What, QC Czar? It's not the real job title," Steve told him. "But it's a sweet new position and I think I have the inside track on it. I don't know who else applied but it'll be hard to beat my resume out. Anybody who's more senior than me won't want it because it would be a lateral move, or worse. And I'm sure I'm ahead of everybody who's below me."
"I think I remember that Narvatex thing from last year. What actually happened, anyway?" Eric asked.
Steve sighed. "It's Narvatek, not Narvatex. I'm not supposed to talk about it, but who gives a shit. We're all Regal guys. I was running the programming team for the whole thing. It's one of our diabetes drugs but these trials were for atherosclerosis. After we un-blinded the study the results were awesome, just like we knew they would be. We packed it up and sent it to the FDA. Then the whole project blew up. Their programmers started poking at everything we sent and found all kinds of problems."
"Programming problems?"
"Yeah. My department. My responsibility. Our analysis was complete dog shit. They couldn't duplicate any of our results. We looked real bad. Especially me. My bosses had been pushing me to get it done so fast that I guess I skimped on validation except for the big pieces. But we made it look like it wasn't our programs that fucked up. We blamed it on this third party reporting software that fucked up. They were supposed to be the next Oracle, or so all their brochures said. So much for that."
"So it was really your group's fault?" Eric asked.
"Yeah, but they had it coming. They were a little too full of themselves. It was a few months of hell but in the end it all got dumped on them. We took two more months and redid everything from scratch and it was a happy ending. But Jane just didn't seem to care how hard that was on me. It's pissed me off ever since."
"What were we talking about again?" Eddie asked.
"The usual. I'm bitching about my wife and you're standing up for her. Never mind, just forget it." Steve said as he stood up with the empty pitcher. "I need more beer."
~~~
"So how are things at home?" Kristie asked as they prepared syringes and vials for an inoculation session scheduled for later that morning. "Same old?"
"Pretty much," Jane told her. "I think it's me. Maybe I expect too much."
Kristie smiled. "I wonder how many times we've had this exact conversation."
"I know. And how many more times we'll have it. Let's just skip it this time. What time are the kids coming in for their shots?"
"One group could be here any minute and the others are coming at eleven. At least we won't be bored." Right on cue a woman in flowery surgical scrubs poked her head in. "The kids are here. All fifty billion of them. It's show time. Or should I say bottoms up?"
Kristie finished preparing the last vial and packed them into a rack with the others. Then the three women moved the syringes and vials onto a cart and pushed it out into the hall. For the rest of the shift it was all business as they spent hours sticking syringes into the asses and drying the eyes of at least sixty kids from four day care centers near the hospital. Jane knew it was only a matter of time before they had the same conversation again. They always did.
Chapter 2
Jane found herself watching Manteo again two days later as she undressed after arriving home after work. She had forty-five minutes before it was time to pick up Allie at day care and she spent thirty five of them at the window. He really was abnormally muscled. She saw a lot of male bodies at the hospital, some fit and some not. But there was fit and then there was this. She remembered what Steve had said about steroids and realized that there was probably something to his accusation. Even if it wasn't steroids, he was doing something unnatural. She'd never seen a physique like that on somebody who was that tall. It just didn't happen very often to guys who weren't playing in the NFL.
Steve talked a lot about Manteo's size and strength but it was different for her. He wasn't feeling it the way she was; he was just seeing it. To him it was like admiring a skyscraper or a corvette. It wasn't personal. Not the way it felt for her. She was becoming fascinated with his muscular body in a different way and she didn't like it. Disgusted, she grabbed her car keys and hurried out the front door while vowing to stay away from the windows until the job was complete. He looks like the guy who discovered fire, she thought. What am I doing? What's the matter with me?
~~~
Dinner that night was peppered with the sound of Manteo's clanking tools as he hauled them around from the back yard and threw them into the back of his truck. "He told me he'd be done tomorrow," Steve said as he wolfed down the Salisbury steak that Jane made. "I can't wait to try it out."
"Tomorrow?" Jane asked. "What time?"
"I don't know, but I told him I'd have his cash for him when I got home from work and he was okay with that. So it sounds like he has a full day of work left. Why? Are you trying to plan when not to be here?"
"No, just wondering, I guess. I thought he'd be here longer."
"I'll take care of it," Steve promised her. "You don't even have to be here."
"It's fine either way. Where else would I be?"
"The guy at Depot said he's good at everything. If he works this cheap maybe we should hire him for something else. What do you think?"
"Something else like what?" Jane asked as she reached over to Allie's plate. "Honey, two more bites, okay?"
Steve grinned. "Anything that I was supposed to do. I can keep him busy. I wonder if he mows lawns?"
Jane said nothing as she diced another sliver of meat for Allie without looking at her husband.
~~~
The next day, the one which was to be his last at the house as things currently stood, he was still there when she came home from the day care with Allie. His shirt was drenched with sweat. They still hadn't talked and even though it was his last day, that just didn't seem right to Jane. It was rude that she hadn't found a way to at least say hello, since he knew she was in the house all afternoon while he worked. The next time she looked out he was holding his water jug upside down as he shook the last remaining drops of water into his mouth. Now she had an excuse. She could bring him something to drink. After catching up on Facebook, something she couldn't do during her shift at the hospital, she decided it was time to meet him. Hey, maybe it'll turn out that he's on Facebook too, she laughed to herself. Yeah, right.
She set Allie up with a Dora video and thought about how to go about it. For a moment she considered making lemonade and taking it out for him. She'd put in a pitcher on a tray, just like moms and girlfriends did it on all those sit-coms from the Fifties. After she mixed the lemonade and put it on a tray with two glasses she had second thoughts, and put it away for Allie later. I won't even shake his hand but now I'm letting him use my dishes? And he doesn't seem like the lemonade type. Instead she grabbed two cans of soda -- one of Steve's Cokes and one of her Diet Mountain Dews. After smoothing out her shirt she walked into the family room. "Mommy's going to talk to the man outside," she told Allie, who never looked up from Dora or her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. "I'll be right back."
She walked out onto the back deck as she rehearsed in her mind what she would say. Her eyes swept the yard but there was no sign of Manteo. He must be out front at the truck, she decided. She adjusted her shorts before taking a seat under the umbrella of the faded patio set that looked twice its age. Then she saw him. He was sitting against the back of the house, moaning and writhing with his hands clasped tightly over the sides of his head. His eyes were closed as he rocked back and forth. She froze, wondering if she should sneak back into the house and pretend she never saw it. Before she could move he was back on his feet.
He stumbled away from the house but stopped in his tracks when he saw her. The water jug that was tucked sideways under his arm was the perfect opening. "I thought you might like something cold to drink," she yelled across the deck. "It's so hot out here." She held out both cans, which were already dripping with condensation.
He walked over slowly, turning the jug upside down to show her that it was empty. "Thank you," he grunted after yanking at a grimy shirt that hung like a flag from a back pocket and pulling it over his head. "I drank mine up a few minutes ago." She was surprised when he chose the diet soda. His hands trembled as he dug a finger around the top of the can and popped the top. Dirty drops of moisture dripped from the wet can and splattered onto the flaking deck as he lifted it toward his mouth. He never took his eyes off her as he drank, his Adam's apple jerking up and down with each gulp.
It wasn't long before he drained the can, which snapped and crackled as he crushed it in his hand. "I could clean up this deck for you," he said. "Wouldn't take but a day. Just let me know."
Something looked odd about his eyes. They were yellowy, almost like a hepatitis patient, but there was no way anybody with hepatitis could work as hard as this man had. She'd seen it for herself. "I'll talk to Steve about it. I'm sure he'll be interested."
Manteo nodded before turning back to the yard. "Looks like I'll be finishing up today. Let me know about the deck."
Before Jane could answer Allie burst out of the house. "Dora's over!" she yelled to her mother. She'd had the carefree, boundless smile of a happy four-year old when she came out but her face clouded over when she saw Manteo. Without a word she ran to her mother and buried her face in her mother's lap.
Jane started to explain but Manteo didn't wait. "What's your name, darling?" he said sweetly.
Allie pulled her face back out and turned to him without lifting her head.
"What's your name, Sweetie?" he said softly after wiping his mouth with his shirt and going down to a knee.
"Allie."
~~~
"I couldn't believe it," she told Steve later. "Within two minutes they were talking like they'd known each other forever. He even knew the characters on Dora. He actually sang! How would he even know who Dora the Explorer is? Isn't that a little weird? I hope he's not some kind of pedophile. How would he even know that?"
"I'm not surprised. Dora's probably about his intellectual level. He probably goes home and watches public TV every night."
"I just can't get over it," she repeated. "I'm worried."
"Take it easy. It's not like he's never seen TV before. Or kids before. He's not from Mars. I don't think, anyway."
"When she came out it was like somebody flipped a switch. He was a completely different person. Even his grammar was better."
"Just don't leave her alone with him," he said. "Ever. He does good work but I don't like the looks of him either."
"Don't worry. Oh, here he comes. Where's the money?"
Steve pulled the door open as soon as Manteo rapped on it. He stepped inside without a word as Steve pulled a plain white envelope full of bills out of a pocket. Manteo opened it wide enough to spread the bills briefly with his brown fingers before stuffing it into his own pocket. "I do ceramic tile work," he said after a quick inspection of the floor. "Ceramic would look better in here. Let me know if you want a price."
Steve and Jane looked at each other. It is on the list, Jane thought. "Okay," she said. "We'll talk about it."
"We have been thinking about redoing the foyer floor," Steve said. "I was going to learn how to do it myself. It's something to think about."
"You know how to get hold of me," Manteo said. Thirty seconds later they heard his truck barreling away.
"I hope you weren't serious," Jane said. "Did you forget what we were just talking about? Having him outside in the yard is one thing. Inside with Allie and me is another. He still gives me the creeps and I don't want him around Allie."
"Think about it, Jane. The floor looks like crap. I'm embarrassed anytime anybody comes in. We'd have to do it sooner or later. If I have to take time off, and all, it'll cost more in the long run. Plus, I don't know how to do it. He'll probably do it better for hardly any money at all."
"Easy for you to say. So what am I supposed to do? You're not the one who'll have to have him inside the house. What about Allie?"
"He's a little weird, that's all. If he was such a freak we'd have seen it by now. You'll be fine. He just wants to work."
She thought about Manteo's antics earlier that day when he didn't know she was watching, but decided not to mention it. "It doesn't even matter what I think, as usual," she fumed. "You're going to do it. Just don't ask me to buy into it."
~~~
"I'm going to have to steal this guy from you soon," Eddie remarked after he heard the deal Manteo had given the Havelocks on the foyer floor. He pulled a slice of pizza from the box and walked into the foyer. "Are you doing ceramic?"
"Yeah. Linoleum doesn't belong in a foyer. It probably looked horrible even when it was new." He gulped some water to wash down a stubborn hunk of crust before reaching for another slice. "It's like he's freaking retarded or something. But I'm not complaining. I'm already looking around for his next project. Jane won't like it though."
"Is this yoga night?"
"Yeah. Yoga night's becoming pizza night." He patted his stomach. "No wonder I'm getting so fat. I should go with her and get a workout."
"What's up with Jane? I'd think she'd be excited about a new floor."
"She's pissed that she'll be cooped up in the same house with the caveman. With Allie," he added.
"Send them over to my place," Eddie suggested. "Valerie would love it."
"You want a beer?" Steve asked as he walked over to the refrigerator.
"What took you so long?" He reached in the air just in time to snag the icy cold aluminum can that was coming his way. "I'm sure Valerie would love to have the company. The kids can play and the moms can hang out. It's a win-win."
"It's not that simple. We can't just let the guy have run of the house with nobody there keeping an eye on him. He might rob us blind. His name's Rob, you know. Ha ha."
Eddie smiled. "So you're not worried about leaving him alone with your wife and daughter, but you're worried about leaving him alone with your flat screen TV? Nice priorities there, brother."
Steve smirked. "I never looked at it that way. But I'm not worried. He might be retarded but he's not crazy. There's nothing to worry about. He's a gold mine to me, but I'm a gold mine to him, too. I can keep him working for the next five years. He's not going to kill the golden goose or whatever the fuck that saying is."
A strange buzz filled the air as Jane climbed out of her six-year old Toyota after returning home from work one day the next week. She wasn't sure what she was hearing while she walked up the concrete driveway along the side of the house, but she knew it was coming from the back yard. Manteo was coming later to start the foyer floor but it was at least an hour too early for this to have anything to do with him. Besides, she thought. He's not working outside this time. He'll be inside. Lucky me. Instead of going in the house she walked through the gate and into the back yard to investigate.
There was no way it could be Manteo. She and Steve had argued about what time he could start work. Jane wanted him to stay away until as late in the day as possible, preferably after Steve was home. Steve wanted Jane to let him inside as soon as she was home from work. They had compromised, or so he probably thought, by telling him he could start after she'd gone back out to pick up Allie from preschool.
The rasping sound was coming from the deck. As she came closer she could see that it was Manteo after all, hunched over in a cloud of swirling dust. What's he doing here so early? And what's he doing, period? Not wanting to be showered with dust she kept her distance as she tried to understand. Whatever power tool it was that he was operating, it was so loud that he was still unaware that she was there. Every few seconds he moved a few feet along the deck without coming out of his squat. Just when she began to think that the machine would be running forever, he reached the far side where the buzzing stopped and he finally noticed that she was watching.
He slid the safety goggles down his face and let them hang around his neck as he stood up. "I won't charge you nothin' for this," he said immediately.
She looked at the smooth, bare wood he'd cleaned up. Then she looked at the scratchy, mold-splatted section that he hadn't gotten to yet. "You should. It really needed it."
"I figured it would keep me busy while I'm waitin' for you. I'll change my clothes before I go inside."
"It looks really good," she told him. "Thanks. We'll pay you for it."
"After I finish I can stain it. You'll have to pick the stain. But the tile is first. Whenever I can get goin' on it." A bead of sweat trickled through the dust on his face and splashed onto his shirt. "This is just something to work on when I'm out here waitin' to get inside."
"I still need to go get my daughter. I'm sorry," she said. "My husband's weird about having people in the house."
"I wouldn't want nobody in my house either," he said. "I got plenty to do out here anyway. So long as you're okay with this."
Ninety minutes later the three of them were in the house. Allie and Jane settled into the kitchen for lunch while Manteo lugged tools through the front door into the foyer. After she finished eating Allie wanted videos but Jane talked her into staying in the kitchen. It didn't take long for them to get used to the staccato, metallic rhythm of Manteo's work. Jane peeked into the foyer and saw that he was removing the baseboard and stacking it neatly near the bottom of the stairs.
"What's Uncle Rob doing?" Allie asked as she dumped multi-colored mounds of play-doh from their cardboard canisters.
"Who? Why did you call him that?"
"He told me to."
"He did? When?" Allie shrugged without looking up from the snowman she was building. Jane shuddered, wondering when the two of them had gotten together without her being aware of it. "Allie, don't call him that. His name is Mr. Manteo."
Manteo poked his head through the kitchen doorway before Allie answered. "Miss Hav'lock?" he asked, ignoring her marital status and dropping the middle syllable of her last name.
Jane jumped to her feet and stepped toward him. "Yes?" she blurted.
"I was wonderin' if you'd picked out the new tile yet. It won't be but a couple days before I have the old floor out and I'll be ready to start layin' it."
Jane winced. "I've been after Steve to go look at tile for a week. He just can't be bothered." She hoped the hand that Manteo draped across the door frame was cleaner than it looked from where she stood.
"Okay," Manteo said. "Just askin' about it."
"I'd pick it out myself but I don't know the first thing about it." She smirked. "Of course, Steve doesn't either. Do you just go to the flooring aisle and pick one that looks good?"
"Yeah, but I need to know the tile size. And we gotta' make sure they have it in stock and I gotta' get some grout that matches."
"Oh dear."
He walked over to the table. "Are you making a snowman, honey?" A beaming Allie picked it up and waved it at him.
"I'll talk to Steve about it. We'll go out tonight and pick something," she promised.
"Bye Mr. Manteo," Allie called as he retreated to the foyer. He shot a look at Jane but said nothing.
~~~
"Can't you just pick it?" Steve said later when Jane brought it up. "I got so much shit going down at work that I don't have time. You know best."
"I think there's more to it than just what looks good," she protested. "What if I pick the wrong kind?"
"There are different kinds? Just tell them what you need it for. They'll help you."
"At least somebody will," she muttered, but he was already checking messages on his phone.
"Damn," he hissed after turning away. "Damn! I have to call Cindy."
Jane walked through the foyer, the floor of which was now nothing but rough plywood. Manteo had already mentioned that he'd need a day to clean it up and take measurements but then the new tile could go in. I guess I'm on my own, she told herself as she listened to her husband cursing into the phone. He stomped in and sat down on the stairs with his forehead in his hands after jamming the phone in his pocket. "That was Cindy, from work," he said when he looked up. "Trouble on the Napagliptin project. A program I wrote is fucking up. A bunch of them, actually. Maybe all of them."
"I thought you didn't write programs anymore."
"I shouldn't have to. I don't have time for it now that I'm running the shop. But this is something I wrote last year. Somebody found some bugs. I have to fix them fast. By the end of the week. That's when we're locking this study up and sending it out. Everything has to be right. Damn it. See? This is why you have to take care of the tile yourself."
"What about the deck? He's already working on it. I didn't have the heart to tell him we weren't interested."
"Who says we're not interested?" Steve asked. "Like I always say, at his prices we should hire him for anything he's willing to do."
"He wants to stain it when he's done cleaning it up."
"Tell him to go for it. Just so long as I never have to hear about it again until he wants his money."
~~~
"I guess I have to go buy some tile," she told Manteo the next day. "I'll go when I'm picking up Allie, I guess. I'm pretty nervous about it," she admitted. "I don't know anything about it."
She thought she saw him smile but it didn't last. "I can start layin' it tomorrow if I have it. Nothin' to be nervous about."
"For you, maybe. I don't know what to get. I don't even know what color would look best."
He put down his tool, which he had told her was a belt sander, and stood up from where he'd been crouching on the deck. "I could go with you if you want. We could go right now. The sooner I have it the faster I'll get it down."
She almost laughed, without knowing why. "Really? That would solve everything. But what about Allie?" she heard herself asking. "I have to pick her up at school."
He shrugged. "It's up to you."
"Maybe we can pick up Allie and then go look at tile. Is that too much?" she asked, reminding herself not to tell Steve about this. "Her school isn't far from here."
"Good for me. Gotta' get that tile."
She already regretted it even before she was inside the house. She can't be riding around with this guy in her car, especially if Allie would be there. But it was too late. Not only that, she reminded herself. It solves a huge problem. Like he said, he needs the tile. The moms at the daycare would get a kick out of who she was hanging out with, at least.
"Better take the truck," he said when she was back outside. "We might be haulin' a whole lot of tile."
"Sorry we have to pick up Allie," Jane said. "Otherwise this wouldn't take so long."
"It's okay," he said. That was the end of their conversation. Jane watched with curiosity as Manteo eased the truck across Route 9, waited for the light at the next intersection and turned onto Jersey Avenue, where the daycare was, without asking for directions.
~~~
She still hadn't gotten used to the throaty rumble of the truck when they reached Kiddie Academy, and she knew by their stares that the other moms in their SUVs were equally uncomfortable with it. "If you can just park I'll go in and get her." Instead of pulling into a parking space he butted up along the curb near the front door, stopping just short of the crosswalk where mothers were walking past to their own cars with children in tow. Jane waited until nobody was around before hopping down from the truck and scurrying inside.
A minute later she was back with Allie. Now she had a dilemma. She didn't want to squeeze in next to Manteo but she wanted Allie next to him even less. There wasn't much choice. She climbed up first, held a hand down to help Allie in and then slid up against him to make room for her daughter. His legs, encased in dirty work pants, looked even longer from that angle as she followed them down to the pedals with her eyes.
"Uncle Rob!" Allie yodeled as she settled into her seat. "We made starecrows!" she said as she held up a shapeless but colorful hunk of construction paper still shiny with wet glue. Jane looked for the seatbelt she couldn't find on the ride over and came up empty again. At least it'll be a short ride, she told herself. We'll probably survive.
"You mean scarecrows?" he answered. "That looks good!"
"I cutted it myself and glued it!"
"You did this? All by yourself?" he asked. "Beautiful!"
"I guess we need to find a tile store," Jane interrupted. "Do you have a place in mind?"
"I know a good place," he answered as the truck roared to life. "But it ain't even one o'clock. It ain't open yet."
"Chipper's!" Allie yelled. "Time for Chipper's!"
Jane didn't like it. This wasn't supposed to be an outing. They were supposed to be out buying tile so he could install it and then go away. "Maybe Mr. Manteo doesn't want to go to Chipper's," she told Allie.
"Come on, Uncle Rob," Allie implored.
"Fine by me," Manteo said. He peered past Jane over at Allie, who was holding her scarecrow aloft with one hand. "Is Chipper's your favorite?"
Five minutes later the unlikely trio was in line, Jane and Manteo squinting at the menus above the counters. "Allie always gets the Chipper Pack. That's easy," Jane said. "By the way, lunch is on me. It's the least I can do since you're helping me pick out the tile." After she ordered the chicken nugget meal with a toy for her daughter and a double cheeseburger for herself she was shocked when her dusty, bearded lunch date ordered a salad and a cup of water. He even remembered to ask for the lite dressing.
"I got a Chipper car!" Allie shrieked after they were at a table and the toy had been freed from its cardboard and paper confines. She pushed it along the table top, turning her head sideways to change her view in a way that puzzled Jane. Wrappers flew as she struggled to make the car do what she'd seen in the commercials.
"You can make it go," Manteo said. "I think I know how it works. Can I try it?" She handed it over and watched him pull it backwards on the table surface. When he released the car it lurched forward, stopping just before it dropped off the side and onto the floor.
"Yay! Can I try?" shouted an excited Allie.
"Of course," Manteo told her. "It's your car." She dragged the car roughly on the table but nothing happened when she let go, except for more wrappers disappearing over the edge. Manteo reached across and placed his hand atop hers. "Like this," he said. "Pull it straight back, not sideways. Put all the wheels flat on the table." She let go just after his hand was gone and squealed with delight as the car shot away and clattered onto the floor.
"I never pictured you as a salad eater," Jane said as Allie retrieved the car. "You're supposed to be the one who gets the cheeseburger."
"I don't put junk like that into my body," he said. "No offense."
"I guess that's why you're in such good shape. I never thought about it," she said, which was a lie. "I thought it was just from working outside."
"That's part of it," he said as he popped the plastic top from the salad tray and pushed it aside.
"What's the rest of it?" she found herself asking. "Sorry, I'm prying."
"I eat clean and I work out a lot. Guess that's all of it."
"I know lots of people who eat clean and work out a lot," she challenged. "They don't look like you."
"That ain't my problem," he said.
"My husband thinks---" she said before stopping herself. "Never mind. I never know when to shut up."
"I know what your husband thinks," Manteo said. "Same thing every other guy like him thinks."
~~~
They spent two hours in the flooring shop selecting tile, grout and some new woodwork. Manteo also picked out a few plastic jugs of adhesive that looked to her like they weighed a hundred pounds each. By the time the supplies were loaded into the back of the truck it was nearly three o'clock. Steve was already home from work when they arrived back at the house. Manteo busied himself unloading the materials and carrying them inside as Jane rushed to explain to her husband where they'd been. She'd only just started when his cell phone rang and he turned away from her to take the call. It would remain in his ear for the next two hours.
~~~
"I finished fixing that one this morning!" Steve bellowed into his phone a few hours later as he walked through the still tile-less foyer from the kitchen into his study. "I'm still logged on. I'm looking at it right now. It works and it handles everything they complained about. We should be in good shape now. What's the problem?" Dinner had already been served and eaten. Usually Manteo had finished his work by then, but not this time. Jane guessed that he wanted to make up for the time he'd lost buying the tiles and supplies. Steve had been barking into his phone for hours, including most of dinner, as he worked on solving the crisis at work. He'd wandered through the foyer so many times while on the phone that he'd left trails of dusty footprints everywhere else he'd been.
"Don't feel like you need to work all night or anything," Jane told Manteo after creeping up behind him. He finished cutting a piece of subfloor before standing up to tower over her. "Sorry Steve's so grouchy," she continued. "It doesn't have anything to do with you."
"That don't matter to me," he answered. "The little girl don't look too happy though."
"He doesn't have much use for her most of the time."
"That's a damn shame," he said.
"On a night like this she's just a distraction for him. He's pushed her out of the way at least twice. I don't blame her for crying. Makes me want to cry too." She winced. "Sorry. I don't know why I'm unloading this on you."
"Why don't the both of you take her out for ice cream or somethin'? And tell him to leave his phone here."
She thought it over. "You know, that's not a bad idea at all. Allie's practically in tears and Steve needs to get out. He definitely needs to get away from that phone." She tracked her husband down right where she expected him to be, in front of the computer in his study.
When she suggested it between phone calls Steve had initially said no. "We can't leave the caveman here by himself. We talked about this." But when she dug her heels in, something she rarely did with him anymore, he relented. "I'll have to get right back to this when we get home," he warned, gesturing at the program. That was okay with her. He even agreed to leave the cell phone home.
"He took you to lunch?" Kristie asked Jane as they walked down a hospital corridor. "Are you crazy?"
"You're not listening. The three of us were already out so we stopped for lunch. Me, Rob, and Allie. So no, he didn't take me to lunch."
"We're talking about the same guy, right? Rob is the caveman?"
"That's him. But don't call him that. He's not the Neanderthal I thought he was. But he's one strange man, that's for sure."
"How did you even find this guy?" Kristie asked. "He must have been living under a rock. What a character."
"Steve hooked up with him, not me," Jane reminded her. "Remember? Somebody told him about Rob at the Home Depot? They both just happened to be there at the same time. One thing led to another."
"It sure did. I can't believe you let him get anywhere near Allie."
"He and Allie are like this," holding up two intertwined fingers. "He's been in the house every day for over a week working on the foyer and Allie treats him like she's known him all her life. He's really good to her. Sometimes he lets her help. It's cute."
"And that doesn't worry you? It's like he charmed her. Or hypnotized her. Why would he do that when he doesn't have two words to say to anybody else?"
"I'd think the same thing if I was in your shoes, but it's not like that. And he's opening up more to me, too. I don't think it's any big deal."
"Boy, things have really changed, then," Kristie observed as they turned a corner and walked into the break room. "It wasn't long ago that you didn't want this guy around at all. Now he's babysitting for Allie?"
"He's a nice person once you get past the grunting," Jane said with a smile. "He doesn't like to talk. You have to drag it out of him. And he's not babysitting. I'm always there."
Kristie slid coins into a vending machine until she heard a beep and then hit a button. A bottle of orange juice tumbled into a slot at the bottom. She repeated the process and brought the two bottles over to the table where Jane was already seated. "I'm just surprised you're trying so hard to drag anything out of him. I thought he gave you the willies."
"I'm there with him all day. I may as well be friendly. He's so hard to figure out. It's weird. I can't pin it down exactly. Like, the way he talks. With Steve, and me, mostly, he's almost speaking broken English. But when he talks to Allie he sounds completely different. Almost like a parent, or an uncle. He knows just how to reach her. But then he'll look up from Allie and talk to me like English is his second language just like before. I feel like he's schizophrenic or something. There's at least two personalities floating around in his head. I've heard of that. I think."
"Did you say 'at least' two?" Kristie laughed. "That sounds serious. I hope he doesn't go all Carrie on you."
"For a while there I was thinking he was a foreigner and was learning English by watching TV. Perfect grammar one sentence and then grunt-speak the next. When we were eating lunch I was trying to imagine how he'd look with a shave and a manicure. I think he'd clean up pretty good."
"Oh. My. God."
"If he trimmed his beard he'd look like a muscular Michael Stipe," Jane said, stifling a laugh.
"Who?" Kristie asked.
"You know, the singer from REM," Jane explained.
"I didn't watch MTV last night."
"They haven't been on for about ten years," Jane said with a laugh.
"Oh. That explains a lot," Kristie said.
"His eyes are kind of jaundiced but it doesn't seem like he's sick. I wonder if he's okay," Jane said.
"Jaundice could be a lot of things. It wouldn't be that hard to look it up but it would be a long list of possibilities."
Steve thinks he takes steroids," Jane told her. "I'm pretty sure that could do it. Oh, guess what he ordered at Chipper's? A salad. And he drinks diet soda. I can't figure this guy out."
Kristie chuckled. "I've never seen him but when I picture him in my mind I don't think salad. What does Steve say about all this?"
"Who's that? Oh, you mean that man who lives in the same house with me? He doesn't say much at all about anything. Anything except work, that is. I haven't brought any of this up with him."
"Probably better that way. You think too much."
"And he hates the caveman. I mean Mr. Manteo. Or Rob, whatever. Although if he had it his way we'd hire him permanently anyway because he works so cheap."
"We should go out again," Kristie suggested. "The four of us. Sounds like you could use it."
"I could go for that. Steve sure could use a night out," Jane said. "He's getting hammered at work again. He thought everything was under control but the project he's running started springing leaks and he's getting into trouble for it."
~~~
Steve looked up just as Cindy appeared in the doorway. "I heard you were looking for me," his top programmer told him.
"Yeah. Come on in, and shove that door closed, will you?"
"What's up?" she asked after closing the door and perching on the corner of his desk. "You look like you haven't slept in weeks."
"Jaishri wants a fresh set of Napa tables by close of business but I don't think we're going to make it. My programs don't run. None of them."
"I thought you had it all fixed up already. Isn't that what you were working on last week?"
"That's just it. After you called me I thought I had them straightened out. They were running. But all of a sudden four or five programs are bombing again. And the ones bombing are all mine. The rest are fine. I was up all night at home working on it. Every time I thought I had them fixed I found something different. It was like a chain reaction. When I fixed one thing it exposed another problem. I quit at about three-thirty because there just didn't seem to be any hope. I checked just now and they're still bombing out. I can't understand what the hell's going on. They're all my programs."
"Too bad. Nobody to yell at."
"This is serious, Cindy. I'm fucked if I can't get these tables to Jaishri today, but there's no way I can debug all these programs in time."
"Who said it isn't serious? Maybe I can help."
"I was going to ask you to. Whatever you're working on, just drop it for now," he told her.
"So what's different all of a sudden? Did you get new data? Maybe there's something coming down the pike in the data that the programs didn't expect."
"Maybe, but I doubt it," Steve countered. "I copied these from old studies. These programs are tried and true. They've seen it all by now. There shouldn't be anything they can't handle here."
"That's the first thing I'll check anyway," Cindy said. "You never know."
"You're right about the data. We did just get a shitload. They loaded it last night. Maybe that's it. I hope so, I guess."
"Do you have a list of programs and outputs for me?"
He shoved a dog-eared printout at her. "The ones with the check marks are okay. The rest of them are crashing."
She studied the printout and looked up. "There aren't many check marks, boss."
"I know. Fuck!" He picked up a coffee mug and pumped it like he was about to throw it at the wall but changed his mind before letting go. "Fuck!"
"It'll be okay. It's probably the same problem that's screwing them all up. As soon as we find it they'll all run."
"If it was that easy I'd have found it already. It seems like these are living, breathing errors that know how to hide. Then they pop out when I think it's fixed. I'm fucked."
"When did this start? This morning?"
"A few days ago. Maybe a week."
"So maybe it's not just the new data," Cindy said.
"I know. That's what scares me. What do you think will happen? You've been here longer than I have, Cindy."
"Says the guy who blew right past me on the org chart two years ago."
"Am I in trouble if this doesn't get fixed?"
"I wouldn't worry about it," she told him. "You might have a bad week. Then it'll get fixed one way or another and everybody will forget about it. You might get a slap on the wrist, is all. Whatever they do, they won't fire you. Just take whatever comes like a man and don't complain and everybody'll forget about it."
~~~
"Damnit, Allie, stop playing and eat your goddamned dinner!" Steve shouted after watching Allie push a pile of carrots back and forth across her plate with a spoon. Allie burst into tears, climbed out of her chair and buried her face in her mother's lap.
"It's okay," Jane mouthed at Steve as she stroked Allie's hair.
"No it's not!" Steve shot back. "She's too old for this!" He slammed his fork onto his plate and stomped out of the room. "How's it going?" Jane heard him ask Manteo as he passed. She couldn't hear the answer but she already knew Manteo would be finishing the foyer job before he left that night. She wondered if Steve had forgotten he was out there.
Jane stacked the dirty dishes to carry over to the sink. "Sit down and eat some carrots while I start the dishes," she told Allie. "Just a few bites. It won't hurt."
Allie grabbed onto Jane's leg instead. Just then Manteo walked in. "Eat up those carrots, honey," he said. "Just like your mom said. You don't want to make them feel sad, do you? Carrots have feelings, you know."
Allie smiled at him through her tears as she returned to her chair and picked up her spoon.
"Thanks," Jane said.
"Floor's done. I'll pack my tools and head out now."
"I hate to tell you this, Mr. Manteo, but I'm afraid we don't have your money. Steve's having a hard time at work and he didn't have time to stop off on the way home."
His expression didn't change. "No matter. I still gotta' finish the deck," he said. "I'll get it then." He paused. "I could tell something ain't right with him."
"You mean with my husband?"
"Yup."
"He's having a lot of trouble at work. That makes things pretty miserable around here."
"Pay me whenever you can," he told her.
"Thanks, Mr. Manteo."
"Rob."
"I don't know if I can get used to that."
"What about paintin' the rooms? Do you still want a price on that?"
"I'll make sure Steve's still on board and tell you next time I see you. I'm thinking yes."
"Okay, Miss Hav'lock. I'll pack up and see myself out."
"Rob?"
"Yeah?"
"Call me Jane."
~~~
"Rob? Call me Jane," Steve mimicked later as they were undressing for bed. "What the hell's going on here? I'm about to get crucified at work, life's going down the shitter but you're making nice with the ape who sanded the deck?"
"What's so bad about being nice to him? It's the least I can do. Didn't you say yourself that he's practically working for free?"
"Whatever. You treat him better than you treat me. It just pisses me off. I'm dying here. Can't you give me a little support?"
"I try but whenever I do you just snap at me."
He sighed as he threw himself onto the bed. Nobody spoke for a few minutes as Jane put on pajamas and prepared to go to sleep. She knew there was nothing she could say to help.
"I'm sorry for what I said," he told her after the lights were out. "I shouldn't take it out on you."
"It's all right," she said, rolling over and laying her hand softly on his cheek. "I know what you're going through. It's Allie that I worry about. She takes it pretty hard when you yell at her."
"I'll make it up to her. Probably not tomorrow, though. I have a feeling Mr. Ramos will call me into his office first thing in the morning and it isn't going to be pretty."
"I wish I could help."
"I know. It'll be fine. But I might end up working alongside the caveman pretty soon the way things are going lately."
~~~
The next morning Steve's boss did just what Steve had predicted. Javier Ramos was in charge of all cardiovascular drug projects at Regal and he had the job because he was good at making the proverbial trains run on time. When statistician Jaishri Mehta had reluctantly reported to him that she hadn't received all the Napagliptin materials soon enough to meet the FDA deadline, everybody knew there was going to be hell to pay. Steve hadn't even booted up his computer in his office when he was summoned by Ramos's administrative assistant.
"I'm not going to mince words," he said, speaking with the clipped accent of somebody who'd grown up in Puerto Rico before moving to the mainland. "I understand that the Napa team didn't deliver the adverse event tables yesterday. You're in charge of programming on that team. What happened? Who didn't get this done?"
"It's a long story. They were actually my programs that held us back. I had them all set but yesterday they wouldn't run. We're still checking it out. I wish I had a better answer."
"You? Why are you writing programs?" Ramos demanded.
"We were shorthanded. I decided I could just use my programs from another study since all the AE work is the same. I'll get them straightened out today. I'm sure it's something simple."
"Even then it's too late for this shipment. We told the FDA they'd get them by lunchtime and we're going to ship whatever is done. Even that is later than they wanted it. I'll have to smooth this over with them."
"I'm sorry about that. It's completely my fault."
"I'm getting that impression. We're running out of time here. I'm going to have Ming Li get involved in fixing these programs. Send Ming all the program names as soon as you get back to your desk and copy me on all your communications between the two of you. And make sure you're available any time for any questions. We're relying on Ming to get this fixed by the end of the day. If that happens I'll call the FDA people and get down on my knees."
"Yes sir," Steve answered. He cleared his throat. "I know I already said it but I'm sorry I let everybody down. I just wish I knew what happened."
~~~
Manteo finished sanding the deck the next afternoon. He was swabbing it clean with a mop when Jane arrived. This time she went straight into the house without stopping to talk. Steve had texted her at work several times to tell her it was going badly, even worse than expected, but she'd been too busy to answer. She wanted to get inside and check for any more messages and then call him back. When she saw there were no more texts, and he didn't answer his phone, she typed up a new text and sent it so he'd know she was thinking about him. By the time that was done she was late for picking up Allie at the day care. When she was home again, Manteo had a paint roller in his hand and looked like he was ready to begin staining.
"Did you start yet?" she called to him.
"Just about to," he yelled back.
"Perfect timing! I picked up lunch. Are you hungry? Want to eat first?"
He leaned the roller against the side of the house and walked over to the patio table, which he'd moved from the deck to the lawn earlier. Allie was already devouring her chicken nuggets but she looked up with a ketchup-smeared face and smiled, wide enough for everyone to see that she hadn't swallowed yet. "Looks like Chipper's again," he observed.
"I got you a salad and an ice water," Jane said. "Just like last time. I hope that's okay."
He nodded and sat down. "Did you get another car, Allie?" he asked. Jane noted that this was the first time he'd called her by name.
"The same one," she said, not hiding her disappointment. "I wanted the tiger."
"Next week," Jane explained with a shrug. Manteo grunted as he pulled the lid from his salad as carefully as he had done at Chipper's. "I thought we better keep you fed so you'll keep coming back."
"That's my problem, not yours," he said.
"I tried to drop some lunch off for Steve at work but nobody could find him. He's having a terrible day. I feel so bad for him."
"What happened?"
"Well, he writes computer programs. They're really complicated. The ones he fixed just last week stopped working yesterday. Or something like that. He couldn't figure out why. They worked fine until then and nothing changed."
"I'd rather work with my hands."
"He got reamed out this morning and his boss brought somebody else in to clean up the mess. She found it pretty quick. Steve said they weren't exactly errors, whatever that means. That's why he couldn't find it last night. But it was just that parts of it didn't do what it was supposed to. He's been getting yelled at all day for it and he has no idea why he ever wrote it that way in the first place."
"Mommy, can I be done?" Allie asked.
"You didn't even eat your fries," Jane scolded.
"Better off not eating those anyway," Manteo said.
"About six or seven of his programs had the same problems. At least he was consistent. Sorry, I know I'm rambling. I hardly understand what he does at all. It must be complete gibberish to you."
"Hmm," was all he said as he stabbed at a cherry tomato with the plastic fork. After three tries he picked it up with his fingers and popped it into his mouth.
"So when do you find time to go to the gym?" she asked. "And how do you have the energy?"
"I make time," he said as he crunched on his salad.
"You're so big. Do you take anything?"
"Maybe," he allowed.
"I kind of suspected," she said. "You are so big. But why? Why risk your health? I mean, are you doing anything risky?" When he clenched his jaw without answering she quickly added "I know it's not my business. Sorry for prying. I keep doing that with you."
He shrugged as he finished chewing. "I just don't want to talk about it right now." He finished his lunch with three hardy scoops and dropped the fork onto the tray. "I do it because I have to keep a promise," he said as he reached for the soda she'd plunked down at his elbow.
"But who would make you promise to do something dangerous? What are you taking?"
"Thanks for lunch." He walked back to the deck, poured stain from a plastic jug into a tray and started rolling it onto the deck without so much as a glance her way. More and more she understood him less and less.
After sending the information to Ming Li as soon as Ramos was done with him, Steve sat at his desk all that day doing nothing except watch for phone calls and emails. He didn't know Li well enough to call and volunteer to help. In fact, he didn't even know if Li was a man or a woman. All he knew was that he or she was at least two levels below him on the org chart. It burned him up that Ramos had him reporting to a subordinate.
Throughout the morning he texted Jane at work, explaining what he was going through, but she never replied. Phone calls and emails to Cindy, who might be able to shed some light on what was happening, also went unanswered. Too upset for anything else, he spent his lunch hour wandering around the lush Regal Pharmaceutical campus with his hands in his pockets. When his phone warbled and vibrated he yanked it out of his pocket, only to find a bland "Hope things get better" text from his wife.
On the way back to his office he swung by Cindy's cubicle but nothing was going on there except for the Regal screensaver on her computer. The phone mail light on her phone was flickering. Was that his? He'd left that message almost four hours ago.
There were no messages of any sort waiting at his desk either. He flipped through the paperwork for the next studies that he would assign teams to, but every fifteen seconds or so his eyes made a circuit tour of his phone, his doorway and the email box on his computer screen.
~~~
When Jane and Allie returned from running errands it was after three. Manteo's truck was still parked on the street so they knew he hadn't finished the deck yet. They settled into their afternoon routines a few hours later than usual. Allie pulled out a box of crayons and a stack of scrap paper and got busy. Jane logged onto Facebook and caught up with her friends. She laughed at the pictures Valerie Durham had posted of Steve and Eddie clowning around on the karaoke stage the last time they'd gone out together. She called Allie over to see. "Daddy's smiling!" she said. "Yay!"
"Yeah," Jane answered. "That's nice, isn't it? We have to do that again sometime. Soon."
Both returned to what they'd been doing and were quietly absorbed in their own worlds until Jane remembered Manteo and looked up from the screen. He'd probably been working for hours without any downtime. Thinking he might need a break, Jane grabbed a cold Mountain Dew and headed out the back door, with Allie close behind. Several cans of stain and a wet roller were there but Manteo wasn't. "Maybe he needed something from his truck," she told her daughter. "Let's look out front."
As soon as they reached the driveway she saw Manteo in the passenger seat of his truck. For all I know he was there when we pulled in, she thought. "There he is!" Allie squealed. Without waiting for her mother she ran ahead but stopped before she reached the truck. That's when Jane heard it. Allie must have heard it too.
Manteo, still as a statue, was shrieking at the top of his lungs. The closed windows muffled the agonizing cries, giving them an eerie, distant sound. When she came closer she could see his jaw muscles working with each scream so there was no doubt where it was coming from. Allie turned and ran back toward Jane as the awful sounds continued. When he began slamming his fists on the dashboard Jane had seen enough.
"Go inside, Allie," Jane commanded between screams. "Go inside right now and close the door." Allie didn't need to be told again. With her face contorted and obviously on the verge of tears she put her head down and marched to the house without even looking at her mother. Jane waited until Allie was safely inside before deciding what to do. By then the screams had turned to deep moans but still Manteo didn't move.
~~~
"Good news," Cindy said as she walked into Steve's office. "Everything's fixed. It's all going out the door to FDA by the end of the day. They agreed to accept it. So I guess you're off the hook."
"You're kidding! When did all this happen?"
"Just now."
"How come you know all about it but nobody said anything to me? I've been sitting here wondering how some new programmer was going to fix all my stuff without ever even talking to me."
"Well, I kind of helped her out," Cindy said. "Javier asked me to. I know your style. And she isn't some new programmer. She's been here for years and she's very good."
He stared, his mouth dropping open ever so slightly. "Javier? Don't you mean Mr. Ramos?"
She shrugged. "That's his name, isn't it?"
"Ramos asked you to get involved in this? You were working on this all day? Why wouldn't he ask me?"
"Maybe he thinks you're too close to it," she offered. "You know how it is. It's always easier to spot problems in somebody else's program."
"Well the way this went down really pisses me off."
"Look, Steve, I'm just doing what I'm told," she said, putting her hands up as if to ward him off. "He locked us in a room and told us not to come out until it all worked. I hope---"
"This is bullshit! They're my programs! I'm your boss! Whoever this other one is, I'm probably her boss too!"
"Don't shoot the messenger, okay? I thought you'd be happy about this."
"Happy? I can't believe you went behind my back like this. Now you'll be taking all the credit for saving the day."
"I didn't go behind your back! I followed orders! And we got you out of a lot of trouble, the way I see it! You should be saying thank you but instead you're trashing me!"
"Yeah, well try to look at it from my perspective. People that work for me are sneaking around monkeying with my programs. I probably could have fixed them in half the time but Ramos wouldn't give me a chance."
"Look," Cindy said. "I just came by to tell you that Ramos called a four-thirty meeting in the fish bowl. He'll be there, so you can ask him all about it. Be my guest." She spun on her heel and stormed out before he could say another word. The meeting announcement popped up in his email box right after she was gone.
~~~
Jane decided to approach the truck on the driver's side. Now Manteo was rocking forward and backward while continuing his low moan. She could see the sweat pouring down his face as she closed in. When she was within arm's reach of the door he turned to face her. Startled, she dropped the soda can, which exploded and fizzed at her feet. Manteo closed his mouth and turned away.
What happened since I left? I shouldn't have pushed him about the steroids. She was scared, but stepped forward and tapped on the window anyway. She was certain he'd seen her but he only stared ahead, breathing deeply and swallowing hard. At least he stopped screaming. But this is even more weird.
She wanted to help but was afraid. Instead, she retreated into the house. Two minutes later, as she watched from a living room window, he stepped out of the truck and walked toward the backyard gate. By the time she'd reached the back door he had the roller in his hand and was back at work staining the deck like nothing had happened at all.
~~~
"This will be a short meeting," Ramos said. He closed the door of the fish bowl, called that because of the glass wall that separated it from a busy corridor. "Just to be clear, did all the programs run?"
"As of forty-five minutes ago they all run with a clean log," Cindy reported.
"Great. Cindy, were you able to zip the files and send them off?"
"Yes. I finished just before the meeting. They're on their way."
"Well done," Ramos said. "You too, Ming. I guess the meeting's going to be even shorter than I thought. That's all I wanted to take care of. For today at least."
"What was wrong with my programs?" Steve demanded. Ming never looked up from the table. Cindy sighed. All eyes shifted to her.
"A whole lot of little things. First we thought it was bad data. After that we traced through the logic of every program. There were little things here and there that didn't match up to this study. It really wasn't any one big thing. They probably needed a little more tweaking than we thought after being copied from a different study."
"So there were no errors?" Steve interjected. "I thought the jobs were bombing."
"There were syntax errors too," Ming said, speaking for the first time in her heavy Chinese accent. "They weren't so hard to find. But a lot of them."
Steve glared at her. Ramos glared at Steve. "We can work through this tomorrow," Ramos declared. "Now's not the time. You two need a break," he said to Cindy and Ming. "We'll talk about it tomorrow and decide if we need to change anything moving forward. Hopefully nothing like this will happen again anytime soon."
~~~
Jane and Allie puttered around the house for a while after they went inside while Jane thought about what to do. Should I pretend it didn't happen? That's what he's doing. Should I go outside and ask him if he's all right? What if he says he isn't? Should I tell him to go away and never come back? I don't have the nerve and...I'm too worried about him to do that.
A few minutes later she'd made up her mind. She took a fresh can from the refrigerator, checked one last time on Allie and walked out the back door. The job was just about finished. Manteo was standing in the last unstained section, a ten foot square in the corner. "I thought you might like something cold to drink."
He looked at her for several seconds without answering before placing the roller carefully on the dry decking at his feet. "Thanks," he finally said as he accepted the can. As she'd seen him do before, he nearly drained the entire can in a few violent gulps. "I'll be done with the deck in fifteen minutes," he told her before finishing off the can.
"I can see that. It's beautiful."
"Guess I better get on with it," he said, turning away as he crushed the aluminum can.
"Rob? Are you okay? I mean, well, is everything okay?"
He stopped and looked back. "I'm okay. Yup."
"It's just that we saw you a little while ago in your truck. You seemed like you were upset."
"Ain't been in the truck all day since I got here."
~~~
"I never caught up with you," Jane said to Steve when he arrived at home, a little earlier than usual. "How did things turn out today?"
"It went as bad as it possibly could have."
"What? The programs still don't work?"
"Oh, they work all right. But I had nothing to do with it. They wouldn't even let me work on them."
"What happened? Why not?"
"Guess who did work on them," he snarled. "Cindy Cary! She works for me! I'm her boss! But my boss pulled the damn rug out from under me and handed the whole project over to her. And some other person I never heard of. I'm so pissed. I feel like quitting."
"I'm so sorry for you," she said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "They had no right to do that to you. But when you land the new job it'll be okay. Don't think about quitting. They'll announce who gets it next month and you'll have the last laugh."
"If I get it. I'm not so sure about it after this. My programs were loaded with errors. Do they really want me to head up quality control? Shit, the timing couldn't be worse."
"They know your work," Jane reminded him. "This won't change anything."
"I hope. I wish I knew who else was in the running. I called over to HR and they wouldn't tell me. Of course not. I had to try, though. I should have asked around when they announced the position. Back then I didn't think it mattered. Now I'm worried."
"You shouldn't be."
"See, I've got this weird feeling that Cindy applied for it too. I asked her straight out a few weeks ago but she ducked the question. Usually HR would automatically tell me if one of my people was in the running, but maybe not this time since I'm in the running too." His head had dropped onto her shoulder but it snapped upright when they heard heavy footsteps. "Is the caveman inside?" he asked. "Where's Allie?"
"In the sandbox," Jane told him. "I've been watching her through the window. Mr. Manteo's still here. He wanted to get everything sized up for the painting."
"So you're back to calling him Mr. Manteo now?" Steve asked. "Did we turn him loose on the painting? Did he finish the deck?"
"He finished today. We asked him to paint all the first floor rooms."
"I'm losing track. Is he okay to have in the house?"
Jane put a finger to her lips just as Manteo came into the room. "Done for the day," he said.
"Hello," Steve said.
"How's it look?" Jane asked.
"Good. Shouldn't be a problem. Just give me the colors and I'll paint 'em. Whenever you're ready."
Steve sighed and shook his head. "I wish my life was so simple. I never know what's coming." Jane heard Manteo mumbling as he walked out but she couldn't make out the words.
~~~
"This deck's looked like shit ever since I can remember," Eddie said. "He did a kickass job." He had dropped by the Havelock residence as he often did on Jane's yoga night. The two friends were sitting on the back deck enjoying the unusually mild September evening.
"He sure did. And he charged practically nothing, as usual. That guy's a gold mine for me. He's painting half the rooms in the house next."
"Do you ever feel guilty about taking advantage of him?" Eddie asked.
"Nah. Guys like him, you're doing them a favor if you keep them busy. Who knows what he'd be doing if people like us didn't spoon feed his life to him. If I paid him more he wouldn't know what to do with it. If he knew he was underpaid he'd ask for more. He's the one who set the rates, not me."
"I'm surprised you're not chugging a brewski. Are you on the wagon now?"
"Things have been tough lately," Steve answered.
"Funny, that's usually the reason you are drinking," Eddie pointed out.
"I guess I'm trying to slow things down some. I was thinking about something you said a few weeks ago. About me and Jane. I'm kind of thinking you're right. I should treat her better."
"Now you're talking. What brought this on?"
"I don't know. I guess it was yesterday. Everything was falling apart at work and I realized that all I wanted to do was come home to her. I didn't just want to. I needed to. And she was so supportive, even though I was still being a jackass. I'm telling you, I was on the edge until I got home and saw her. Maybe I don't appreciate how great I have it with her."
"Wow, man," Eddie said with a smile. "I said all that?"
"Sort of. I've done some bad stuff. I'm surprised she even stays with me."
"I don't know if things are that bad, but I think you're right on the money," Eddie agreed. "You're a lucky dude. We all take what we have for granted most of the time. You're just one of the ones who does it all the time."
"I get it, okay? I'm telling you you're right."
"So what actually went down at work?"
"Remember I had that big deadline on one of my projects, right? We didn't have enough people so I had to get my hands dirty and write some programs. If you remember, I was right on target. I swear, all my programs ran. They already worked on other studies. They were perfect. Well, all of a sudden two nights before it was all due I checked and they were all crashing. They just didn't work. Then the shit hit the fan."
"Can you be more specific about the fan?" Eddie asked.
"My boss called me in and gave me the 'what the fuck?' treatment," Steve explained. "Which is just what I would have done. Then he handed my programs to a couple other people, junior people, who got them running just in time. So I look like a goat and they look like a couple of fucking heroes."
"Think of it as a wake up call. Same as with Jane. Were you getting a little sloppy?"
"Maybe, but I'm sure I checked them all and they were okay."
"You just went from 'swear they worked' to 'sure I checked them.'"
Steve shrugged. "Maybe I got sloppy. I can't remember for sure. So anyway, I didn't get fired or anything but my boss isn't very happy with me. And remember that job I applied for? I feel like this torpedoed me. And the kicker is that I've got this feeling that one of the chicks that fixed my stuff is my competition. It would completely suck if they chose her. I'm her boss right now. If she gets this job she'll outrank me."
"No wonder you were so bummed out," Eddie said. "A lot happened."
'Tell me about it."
"Look at it this way. You didn't get fired. You're still probably going to get that job because they're not going to jump somebody right over you and give it to her. And in a way it made you realize that your marriage is fucked up and you need to fix it. Overall it's been a good thing. Did you ever think of it that way?"
Steve looked past him for a moment before answering. "Eddie?"
"What?"
"Fuck you," he told him before breaking out into a rowdy laugh. Before long Eddie was doing the same.
"I was texting with Valerie," Jane told Steve one night later that week after putting Allie to bed. "Did you tell Eddie you wanted us all to go out this weekend? I was just saying to Kristie that we should go out with them."
"Yeah, I was thinking it would be cool. Either them or the Durhams. Whatever you want. Just a movie or dinner or something. I know I could use a night out. I should have asked you first."
"Anytime you want to go out you don't need to ask," she said with a smile. "I'm always up for it. I'll text back and tell her we're good to go."
"Tell Eddie I said hi."
After twenty minutes she hadn't heard anything back. "I bet she's on Facebook," Jane said to her husband, who by then was buried in the newspaper at the kitchen table. "I can send her a message on there."
"Redundancy," Steve said, without looking up. "The backbone of communication."
"What's that?"
"I'm just mumbling. Nothing important."
She walked over to her laptop, which was connected to the internet by wi-fi and ready for use on the countertop. Facebook was already running and she had five new messages. Her eyes skipped past the ones from names she recognized and focused on the one from somebody she didn't. "Do we know anybody named Mike Albemarle?" she called out to her husband.
"Albemarle?" asked. His face crinkled as he considered the name. "No, doesn't ring a bell."
She examined the avatar next to the unfamiliar name. It appeared to be a skyline, maybe of Atlantic City. Without taking her eyes off the screen she reached for an apple from the fruit bowl. She clicked on the message and took a healthy bite as the message opened up, giggling as juice from the apple spewed onto the keyboard and screen. The giggling stopped as soon as she began reading the note. After two sentences the apple dropped from her hand onto the countertop before rolling over the edge and onto the floor.
"You dropped something," Steve said, but she was too involved in what she was reading to notice.
Jane,
I thought you might want to know what your husband is doing on some of those nights when he's not home, or you're not around to keep your eye on him. You don't deserve this. You deserve better.
Mike
p.s. I have lots more of these but I didn't think you'd want to see them all. Or maybe you do. I'll send some later if you want them.
At first she hadn't noticed the thumbnail of an attached picture but now her eyes were drawn to it. Even before enlarging it she could tell what it was. The only question was who it was, but she had a pretty good idea after reading the note. After two clicks the picture exploded across the screen. She heard herself gasp. She immediately looked at Steve. Somehow he didn't hear it and was still engrossed in whatever he was reading.
There were enough recognizable features that she knew she was looking at a shot taken on the Atlantic City boardwalk in front of the Tropicana. Two people, one with his arm around the other, had just emerged from the casino and it appeared that they were about to share a passionate kiss. Jane didn't recognize one of them. The other one she knew. It was her husband.
The room spun and she worried momentarily that she was going to pass out. She gripped the counter with both hands to stop herself from falling off the stool. Her eyes darted between the picture and her husband at the table, almost as if she was looking for a reason to believe it couldn't be him in the picture. But it was. There was no doubt. Curiously, it appeared that the Mike Albemarle avatar was a broader version of the same photograph. Who was Mike Albemarle, and why was this so important to him that he made it his avatar?
"All of a sudden you're so quiet," Steve said. "What's up online?"
"Nothing but a bunch of spam," she answered. "There must be fifteen of them. Hope I don't accidentally delete Valerie's message, if there is one."
"Heaven forbid," Steve said.
There was a message from Valerie but Jane read it without retaining a word because her mind was someplace else. Without shutting Facebook down she closed the laptop cover with a click and thought about what to do. She worried that she wouldn't make it out of the kitchen without collapsing, but she had to get out of that room. Sitting across the table from Steve was out of the question, too. There was no way her face wouldn't betray her feelings. As quietly as possible she drew a deep breath, collected herself and walked to the bathroom without a word or a stumble.
It felt even more real as she realized that it wasn't impossible that her husband had spent some evenings in Atlantic City without her knowledge. It could have been one of the late nights out with his buddies, although those nights were few and far between. It could even have been on a night when she was on an overnight shift at the hospital. It wouldn't have been easy but he could have done it. She didn't think that was it. He wouldn't have left Allie home alone. On the other hand, she didn't think he'd have an affair, either. But he had.
~~~
"Eddie, man, this is Steve. What's up?"
"Hey. Where are you? It's past quitting time. I'm mobile, on the way out," Eddie reported.
"Me too. Look, I'm not ready to go home. Want to stop off and meet me for a beer or two?"
"Uh, I guess so," Eddie said. "I never turn down an offer like that. It's just that Valerie's expecting me home."
"We'll just have one, then," Steve said. "Come on, man. Be a pal. I need to talk. How about at Izzy's?"
"Izzy's? That's too far. How about Applebee's?"
"Applebee's? You're joking, right? Applebee's?"
"It's on the way," Eddie said firmly. "That's the best I can do on short notice. Take it or leave it."
They met outside Applebee's, five minutes from Eddie's home and ten from Steve's. After they were seated and the bartender brought them two draft beers Steve explained what he was so upset about. "I didn't get the job. I didn't get that fucking job! I had it in my hands two weeks ago and it slipped away. All because of those goddamned programs that went to shit last week. Who has this kind of luck?"
Eddie took a long drink and positioned his phone on the bar so he could see any incoming messages. "That's tough, man. You kind of knew it could happen, though. You were already saying that the near-miss on the deadline could be a problem. At least it wasn't a total surprise. You still have a job, at least. Look at it that way."
"It was still a surprise and it still sucks. Some fluke problems and I'm out of the picture? I still don't even understand what happened. I never had so many errors at the same time like that before. It was like a skit on Saturday Night Live. The Retarded Programmer."
Eddie shook his head. "You programmers are the least funny people on earth." He rubbed his eyes before taking another swig of beer. "I don't know what to tell you, except that you're right. It sucks. It's a bad break."
"It gets worse. I didn't even tell you the worst part."
Eddie plopped his glass onto the bar and gaped at Steve. "No. No way. Not possible. Not the woman who works for you. No way."
Steve didn't have to answer. His scowl said it all. Both men had a few inches of beer left but he signaled to the bartender for another round anyway.
"Dude, that's got to be the last one. I've got to get home. Dinner's on the table, as they say."
"What are you, Ward Cleaver now?" Steve asked. "She can wait a few minutes. I need more beer time."
Eddie checked his phone again. "I'm safe so far. Look, I know it sucks but you have to take the high road on this. Don't be bitter. Don't be a dick about it. I know what you're thinking. Don't go there. It could be dangerous for you. Just cut your losses and move on. Seriously."
"I knew you'd say that. Congratulate her and shit."
"I know you don't want to hear this, but you'll just make it worse if you bitch about it. If you feel bad about her beating you out that'll make you feel even worse. You'll look like ten times the loser you are now." He grimaced. "Sorry. You know what I mean."
Steve drained his glass and took a sip from the fresh one that had just been placed at his elbow. "I'm bitter all right. Let me tell you why. Do you remember when all my troubles started? Who do you think it was that discovered all these so-called problems? Who called me at home and told me about the disaster? And after I busted my ass fixing it all, who called me again three days later to tell me it started all over again?"
Eddie's glass had been on the way to his lips but it stopped halfway when he realized what his friend was getting at. "You can't be serious," he said. "Are you out of your mind? Are you accusing her of sabotaging your programs? Twice? She can't be that stupid. If she got caught she'd never work in this industry again. This is what I'm talking about. You're already acting like a maniac. Take the fucking high road for once. Please."
"Think about it," Steve argued. "She's right in the middle of it every time there's a problem. She's always the first to know. Is that just a coincidence? She's always the goddamned first to know. How can you explain that?"
"No," Eddie snapped. "Wrong. It's not necessarily a coincidence. Isn't there a reason for her to know what's going on with the project? Why is it so unreasonable for her to see it first?"
"Well, sure, maybe. But I just think she had something to do with it. It turned out she had a lot to gain. You can't deny that."
"So what? That doesn't mean she did this. Look, here's my problem with it. Just because you would do something like this doesn't mean she would. Not everybody is like you. What was she like when she worked for you?"
"What do you mean?" Steve asked.
"Was she loyal? I just don't see where this is coming from. Did she ever give you any inkling that she could pull something like this?" When Steve went silent Eddie answered his own question. "I didn't think so. You better settle down and take this like a man or you'll really have problems."
"Speaking of loyalty, thanks for standing by my side on this. It's nice to know you've got my back," he said sarcastically.
"I am being loyal. I'd be a real asshat if I let you delude yourself like this." He looked at his phone again. "Gotta' go. We'll talk later. Don't do anything dumb, okay?" He slapped his friend on the shoulder and stood up to leave.
~~~
Jane wanted to talk about what she'd learned, or what she'd thought she'd learned, but she wasn't sure who to talk to. Most of her friends had husbands who knew Steve. She wasn't ready for him to know that she knew, so those friends couldn't be confided in. All the others she could think of either weren't close enough for something like this or weren't reliable enough to keep it quiet.
Even if Steve hadn't been going through tough times at work she didn't think she would have brought it up with him. Not yet. There were too many questions. High on that list was the identity of the Facebook member who sent the picture. Who is this Mike Albemarle? For all she knew this was a sick joke being played on her by a friend, or even one of Steve's friends. Besides, guilty or innocent, Steve would lash out at her if she asked him about it, especially with all the stress about not getting that job. She wasn't interested in enduring that, at least until she knew what was true and what wasn't.
The painting project began the morning after she worked an overnighter. She dropped Allie at seven-thirty for day care and stopped off for a few groceries before returning home. When Manteo came to start painting she didn't bother making him wait outside until she was back with Allie before letting him in the house, the way she had with the tile job. He'd never done anything to make her suspicious. If this Albemarle character was right, that was more than she could say for her husband. As soon as he arrived she let him haul his equipment inside and get started.
If he hadn't been there she would have napped while Allie was at day care. Instead she went to the kitchen to make coffee. When she poured her third cup it occurred to her that she should offer Manteo some. She doubted that he would accept it. These kinds of guys always stop at Wawa first thing in the morning for a giant cup, she told herself. She always saw their trucks and vans parked haphazardly every morning as she drove past. But it wouldn't hurt to be polite and ask. She wasn't surprised when she walked down to the den where he was laying tarps on the carpeted floor that he turned her down.
"So where do you come from every morning, Rob?" she asked after returning with her own cup and taking a seat on the floor near a stack of tarps. He stared at her without answering. "I mean, where do you live?"
"I got a little place up the parkway."
"Oh? Where?"
"Where? It's, uh, up in Pleasantville."
"It's nice up that way."
"Not really." He unfolded one last tarp and tossed it so it spread perfectly into one last corner. "Good enough." She wasn't sure if he was talking about where he lived or how the tarp had landed.
"Do you live by yourself?"
"Yup."
"Hmm," she said. "Sometimes I wonder if I'd be happier just being alone like that. No ties, no worries. But I couldn't live without Allie now that I have her."
"Or your husband."
"How could I forget," she answered flatly. "My dear husband."
He examined the three paint cans he'd brought in from the truck. They were the spoils of a two hour expedition to a paint store by Jane, Allie and Manteo a few days earlier. He finally found the right one, which he pried open and began to stir with a ruler-shaped paddle supplied by the clerk behind the counter. "Bein' alone can be good sometimes. Depends on how you ended up that way."
"How did you end up that way?" Jane asked. "Or was it by choice?" He stopped stirring the paint and stared at the wall for a moment before resuming.
"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I don't know what gets into me. Somebody sprung something on me a couple of nights ago and I have a lot to think about all of a sudden. I guess I lost my head." She turned for the door. "I'll leave you alone and let you get to work."
"You remember the promise I told you about?" he asked, stopping her in her tracks just before she was out of the room.
"You mean about the weight lifting? Sure."
"It wasn't really a promise. It was just somethin' we talked about. Me and my wife."
"You have a wife?"
"That so hard to believe?"
"No, of course not. I just didn't know."
"See, I'd always been skinny as a rail," he explained. "Six foot five, a hundred and forty pounds soakin' wet. She was always tellin' me if I worked out I could bulk up. I always told her I don't mind bein' skinny. But she kept saying it. I don't know why. Well, one day she said it and it rubbed me the wrong way. We had a terrible fight."
"You had a fight with your wife about weight lifting?" Jane asked.
"Didn't take long to move on from there but that's what started it."
"She must be happy now if she wanted you to bulk up. You're a giant now. I mean that in a good way," she added with a smile. "Then again, she doesn't live with you anymore." She clapped her hand over her mouth. "There I go again."
"Those were the last words we ever said to each other. When we went to bed we were both still pissed. Didn't talk none in the morning. She died in a car crash up north later that day. Well, somethin' like that."
Jane drew in her breath and stared at him. "No!"
He stood up and walked over to the supply pile where he grabbed a paint roller and a pole. "My baby girl, too. She was 'bout the same age as your little girl is now," he said as he screwed the roller onto the pole.
Jane felt a sting in her eyes. "Oh my God. I had no idea," she said. "I'm so sorry."
"That's why I work out the way I do. I made a promise."
"That's so sweet, Rob. I had no idea."
"But just working out wasn't enough. Not enough for her. So I got me some vitamins. Took 'em every day. But that wasn't enough either."
"What was your daughter's name?"
"Sara. So I started askin' around at the gym. Now I take everything I can get my hands on. It worked."
"How long ago did this happen?"
"Three or four years," he told her as he poured some of the creamy, tan paint into a crumply metal tray. "Maybe five. At least."
"I had no idea," Jane said for at least the third time. "I thought I had it tough. What kind of stuff are you taking? That stuff will kill you, whatever you're taking. I'm a nurse. I know. I've been reading up on it lately since we met. You're sick, aren't you? Something's not right."
"I don't care."
"That stuff will kill you," she repeated.
"It already is. But I made a promise."
"To who? Didn't you say the promise was after the accident?"
"Still made it," he insisted.
"To who? I'm sure she wouldn't want you to kill yourself with this stuff. What are you taking? You should stop, Rob. It worked. You did it. You kept your promise."
"I better get started painting."
"What did you mean when you said 'it already is?'"
"Same as you meant. Time for me to get to work." He walked to the far wall and dipped his roller in the paint. There was nothing for Jane to do but go back to finish the pot of coffee because she knew he was done talking. On her way out of the room she paused to look more closely after seeing what looked like a cell phone in his open sack of tools. It was. Somehow that went against the image she had of this simple man.
~~~
That afternoon Jane felt like she was watching Allie and Manteo hanging out together through a new pair of eyes now that she knew more about his past. I'll bet he was a good father, she told herself. And Allie knows it, too. She can tell somehow.
While Jane was in the kitchen she saw Allie race past the doorway and then back again with something in her hand. "We made a marshmallow man!" Jane heard Allie yelling at Manteo as she sliced Allie's sandwich into quarters. She smiled. After nearly a year of preschool they had enough of those arts and craft projects to fill a U-Haul truck.
"Let me see that," Manteo said. Jane heard the crinkling as he walked across the plastic tarps to the doorway where Allie must have been waiting. "He looks like somebody I'd like to be friends with, Miss Allie," he said. Allie's lunch was ready but Jane didn't call her in, knowing she was occupied. A few minutes later, when she did finally amble in to eat, she reported every detail of her conversation with Manteo about her creation. All of his comments, of course, were favorable.
When lunch was finished Jane planned to focus on housework, knowing she'd be leaving for work shortly after dinner. "Don't bother Mr. Manteo," she reminded Allie. "He's very busy. Find something else to do." A half hour later, when she heard Allie and Manteo talking and laughing, she stomped downstairs to repeat the instruction. She poked her head into the den and couldn't keep from laughing when she saw he'd equipped Allie with a paint roller of her own, and she'd made good use of it on the far wall.
"Allie! I told you not to bother Mr. Manteo!"
"She ain't botherin' me," Manteo said. "I needed somebody to prep them walls." When Allie wasn't looking he reached over with his own roller to smooth out a spot where she'd rolled the paint on so thick that it was beginning to drip. "Keep up the good work," he encouraged her before walking back toward Jane. "You prime the walls and then I'll paint them. We're a team."
"I'm so sorry," Jane said. "I told her not to---"
"She won't hurt nothin'," he said quietly enough that Allie wouldn't overhear. "I'll have to do two or three coats on that wall anyway. I like having me a little partner. I'll keep a close watch on her."
A few minutes later she heard him stumble into the bathroom for the second time that day. He tried not to make much noise but she was certain that the sound she heard was him retching into the toilet. He did say the drugs were killing him, she thought. If it isn't that then something else is. She made a note to clean the bathroom up before Steve got home.
When he emerged Allie still wanted to help with the painting. Jane made her change out of her school clothes before sending her back in. She wasn't worried about leaving her alone with Manteo. There just didn't seem to be any reason to. Not anymore.
"How did it go at work?" Jane asked cautiously when Steve arrived back home that night. "Did you see what's her name at all?"
"Cindy. No," he said with a sigh. "I made sure not to. You know me. I would have gone off on her and made myself look bad. I'm still too pissed off to face her."
"That was smart." She almost told him she was proud of him. Ordinarily she would have. With the image of the Atlantic City photograph burned into her brain, though, she couldn't find it in herself to use those words about him. "Maybe after you get used to it you won't have to be so careful."
"I still feel like I got screwed. By her."
Interesting choice of words, she thought. "You know her better than I do but I've heard you talk about her for years. She's always been there for you. I just don't think she's the backstabbing type."
"There's a first time for everything," he said in a smoldering tone. Jane was relieved that Allie strolled in right then. The look on his face told her that another bitter tantrum was coming, the same one she'd already heard about Cindy several times in recent days. He'd probably hold his tongue with Allie in the room.
"Your daughter worked hard today," Jane commented.
"Hi Allie," Steve said. "What did you make?"
"No, I painted." Steve looked quizzically at Jane. "I painted the room. I was the helper."
"She was painting?" Steve asked. "Here?"
"Why don't you go see for yourself."
The three of them moved to the den. All the furniture was in the center of the room, hidden beneath a blue tarp. Three walls, still wet, shone with a deep, even tan. The fourth was smeared with tan slashes. "I was the prime!" Allie gushed.
"She's hanging out with the caveman now?" Steve asked.
"It's fine," Jane told him. "I'm right there."
"Are you right in here with them?"
"I'm always close by. I can hear everything that's going on."
"I don't like it. What if he goes ape shit?" he whispered after Allie had crossed to the other side of the room to examine her work. "We can't trust him like that."
She tried to remember if she'd told him about what she'd seen in the truck. She was sure she hadn't. Now that was ape shit. "If he does, Allie and I are both goners anyway. Maybe you should take time off work and stay with us if you're so worried."
"Jesus. I can't get a break even at home now," he snarled. "What are you getting on my case for?"
"Because you're getting on mine. He's not going to hurt Allie or me or anybody else, but if he is it's not going to matter what room anybody is in. He's fine. Why don't you get off his case?"
"Wow. What's eating you? I don't know what to say. All of a sudden you're best friends with the caveman. When he started you didn't even want to look at him. Now he's a super citizen."
"I have to make dinner before I go to work," she said. "There's nothing to worry about. I know him better than you do."
"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded.
"Nothing. Let's just drop it. I have to make dinner. You know I work tonight, right?" She walked out of the room without waiting for his reply. Allie reached the kitchen almost before Jane did.
~~~
Jane hoped to steer the dinner conversation away from what had happened at Regal Pharmaceuticals but she knew that wasn't going to work even before everybody was seated. Steve picked up right where he'd left off in the den. "I'm thinking about going in to see the IT guys first thing tomorrow morning," he declared. "Maybe if she was tampering with my programs there's some kind of record of it. Because that's what I think she did. The more I think about it the more sure I am that she masterminded this. She was playing me all along."
"Did Allie show you what she made at school today?"
"Yeah, some kind of marshmallow guy. Hey, did we get a new phone bill recently? I need a record of whenever she called those nights. I think I can build a little timeline of all this." Jane stared at the maple tree outside the kitchen window, hoping he wouldn't ask again. He didn't, or if he did she didn't hear it.
~~~
Steve surprised her by offering to clear the table and take care of the after-dinner cleanup, probably because he was too agitated to sit and do nothing. Jane headed upstairs for a shower but brought her laptop into the bathroom so she could privately re-inspect the photograph sent via Facebook. Maybe, she was hoping, it was all a joke that would be revealed to her the next time she logged on. Or maybe after a closer look it might turn out not to be Steve in the picture at all. It's worth a shot, she thought as she waited for the laptop to boot up and then logged on to Facebook.
There was a new note from Mike Albemarle. That's bad. Or maybe it's good. Maybe it's the punch line to the joke. She clicked opened the message and read it quickly.
Jane,
You didn't answer so now I'm thinking you aren't taking me seriously. I tell you what. Go to my page and look in my photo tab. There's an album there just for you to look at.
I feel sorry for you because you don't deserve this. My only aim is to let you see what is really going on behind your back.
Sorry to be the one to give you bad news but somebody has to do it.
Mike
She wasn't sure she wanted to go look at his pictures and she had a feeling they would still be there when she was ready to see them. Instead she tapped out a quick reply after making sure the door was locked.
Mike,
Who are you and why do you have pictures of my husband? I'm not even sure it's him in that picture, anyway. Do I know you? I don't know anybody named Mike Albemarle. I won't look at any more pictures until you explain what is going on here.
J
She re-read her note a few times before clicking to send it. After checking for a second time to make sure the door was locked she climbed into the shower.
~~~
A reply was already waiting when she finished her shower and toweled off, just as she'd hoped. She wiped the light layer of condensation from the laptop screen with the towel before throwing it aside. This can't be good for a computer, she thought. The response wasn't much different than she expected.
Jane,
Why do you care who I am? Of course that isn't my real name. So what? The only thing that matters is that I'm telling you the truth. Pictures don't lie and you should know the truth. Look at all my pictures and you will know for sure that it's him.
Sorry, I just can't tell you who I am.
Mike
So that was that. She wasn't going to find out who Mike Albemarle was anytime soon, she now knew. Still standing naked in front of the vanity on which the laptop was perched, she gave in and clicked over to his page. When it popped up she opened up the photo album labeled with her name before she had a chance to change her mind.
There were more pictures of Steve and the woman, of course. This time they were set inside the Trop. All the clothing matched that of the first photograph. Apparently the pictures had all been taken the same night. There was a dinner shot, taken in a dimly lit but obviously upscale restaurant complete with a bottle of wine and a candle on the table. There were a few casino pictures, most of which featured the two wearing ear to ear smiles. The most disturbing one was a wide-angle of the two seated at a bar. The banks of slot machines in the background told her that it was in the casino. They were locked in a clinch so intimate that their faces were barely visible but she knew it was them because they were so similar to the other pictures in the series. That one hurt.
Jane folded the top down and pushed the laptop away without bothering to log off. As she applied makeup she thought about opening it back up and removing the pictures from the screen just in case somebody else happened to open it up. With a shrug that nobody would ever see she decided not to bother. Why should I? I'm not the one who has anything to hide.
~~~
Steve took a long sip of coffee the next morning as he pulled up his online address book and paged through it using his mouse. He'd changed his mind about making a formal request for an investigation. That would look bad, especially if nothing turned up. He remembered the name of the intern from the IT department that he'd helped with a resume a few weeks earlier -- Nick Saluda. Maybe now Nick could return the favor. Sending an email was out of the question because that would leave a trail. So would a personal visit, at least in the memories of anybody who witnessed it. This would have to start with a phone call.
What he wanted to know wasn't very complicated. He wanted to know who, in the last few weeks, had edited any of the programs on a short list that he would provide. These were the dozen or so programs that had caused his career to take a sudden detour by simultaneously malfunctioning at crunch time. The day before he'd tried to find out on his own, but of course it was too late. Since he hadn't initially suspected sabotage, he hadn't looked closely at the program files at the time all the trouble went down. By the time it had occurred to him that somebody else could have been tampering with them, the tracks had already been covered up by his own actions when he tried to fix them himself. Luckily, the IT department maintained regular backups of everything on the UNIX mainframe computer.
His idea was solid. If he supplied the names of files and the dates of possible tampering, perhaps the savvy intern who owed him a favor could be talked into ignoring the SOPs that prohibited this type of snooping long enough to determine who was responsible. "He probably doesn't even know what an SOP is," he said aloud to the empty room. Instead of calling from his office extension he pulled out his cell phone. One solid push off the desk and he'd succeeded in launching his chair into the corner, where he punched in the numbers and made the call.
~~~
When the call was complete he sat back in the chair with the phone still clutched in his hand. The chair creaked as it tilted slowly backwards, his face angling upward. A knock on the jamb of his open door broke the stillness. His head lurched in that direction as he instinctively squeezed the phone.
"Steve? Are you okay?" Cindy asked. "You look like you just came out of a trance."
"Yeah, yeah. Jane just called me on my cell. What's up?"
She ventured further into the office. "I just wanted to make sure everything's okay between us. I haven't seen you in a few days." She smiled as she watched him use his feet to roll himself back behind the desk. "You look like you're in one of those Fred Flintstone cars."
"Sure, yeah, of course," he told her, gripping the armrests tightly. "Why not?"
"It's just that you didn't come to my little announcement thingy. You know, about the promotion. I thought maybe you're upset about it. They had a cake and everything."
"No, I'm not upset. I'm happy for you. I had a meeting, that's all. I couldn't get out of it."
"With who? Everybody was there but you." She walked closer and put her hands on the desk. "Look, I wouldn't blame you for being upset. I know you were up for this job. I'm sorry it worked out this way. I just hope it won't change anything between us."
"Why would it? I love my job. I just applied for it because it seemed like I should. Everybody told me to, so I did. It's not that big a deal to me."
"Really?" she asked. "What a relief. I can't tell you how glad I am to hear that."
"Really."
"That is such a relief, Steve. I thought about it all night."
"Nope. Don't even worry about it. All I know is I haven't given it a second thought."
~~~
"I found a way to check if it was Cindy that trashed my programs," Steve told Jane as they attended Allie's latest art showcase in the living room before settling in for dinner. "Remember that kid with the crappy resume that I fixed up? He's an intern in IT. He can look at the files and tell me who was in them. And when."
"I hope nobody finds out that you're doing this. It won't look good."
"Even if I'm right about what she did? Anyway, I can trust him. He's just a regular guy. I told him never to use my work phone. We'll do everything by cell phone and on our personal email addresses. If he--" He stopped. Manteo passed through without looking up on his way to the front door, carrying a pile of tarps and rollers after another long day of painting. Jane guessed that he would only need two more days to finish the job.
"I don't know," she said. "It just seems like no good can come of it. What if the intern thinks he finds proof but he's wrong? Then everybody's in more trouble than ever. He's just an intern. What if he gets it wrong?"
"But what if he's right?"
"Can he really know for sure?" Jane asked as Manteo came back inside and disappeared down the hall.
"Yeah, why not? It should be easy for him to see who edited the programs besides me. Either somebody did or nobody did. It's not that complicated."
"Things like this have a way of complicating themselves."
"They already did."
"Let's say he finds the secret file, or whatever he might find, that proves she did it. What would you do? Seriously? Go tell on her? I mean, wouldn't that look a little unprofessional?"
"Maybe," he conceded. "But a lot less unprofessional than what she did."
She shrugged and headed for the kitchen. "Whatever. I better get dinner on the table. I've got yoga tonight."
Before she was gone Manteo emerged from the hallway with two empty paint cans hanging from each hand. "I'll be back in the mornin' if that's alright," he said to Jane without looking at her husband. "That might be it. No more than two days."
"Okay, Rob," she said. "See you then. Thanks."
Steve waited for Manteo to close the front door before following Jane into the kitchen. "Whatever? What do you mean by that?" he yelled. "Come on, help me out here! Can't you stand by me for once? Why do you have to be so bitchy about it?"
Jane kept walking. She hoped he'd let it drop. She knew she had been bitchy lately but she didn't want to have to tell him why. Not yet. Not until she knew for sure. When she looked back, just before she reached the kitchen, Allie was staring at her father. Jane knew she was about to ask him what 'bitchy' means.
~~~
I wonder what he'll be doing while I'm at yoga, Jane couldn't stop herself from thinking as she changed into workout clothes. There was time for quick Facebook check but what was the point? More bad news? It could wait. She walked past her laptop and back downstairs.
Jane heard the doorbell just after she had run back upstairs for her water bottle. Knowing Steve was down there she didn't think anything of it, but casually asked him who it was that came to the door as she was looking for her car keys.
"The caveman forgot some little bag," he told her. "He just walked out the door with it. He was all sweaty. I guess he was pretty worried about it."
"He might have been at the gym. What bag was it?" Jane asked, remembering the small canvas one with the cell phone inside. "Was it brown?"
"Everything about that guy is brown. I didn't really notice." He cocked his head and stared at her. "Sounds like you're really getting to know each other."
"He's weird about that bag, that's all. It's never more than an arm's length away. I'm surprised he left without it." She found the keys and headed for the door before he had a chance to ask anymore questions, and before Allie noticed that she was leaving. "I'll be back at my regular time." When it looked like he was angling across the room to meet her at the door she quickened her pace. "See you later," she told him before slipping out.
Since Manteo had just left it shouldn't have surprised her to see him waiting for a traffic light in his truck on Governor's Highway, but it did. He looks so out of place, she thought. It just seems funny to see him out on the roads just like everybody else. Like a normal person. Because he really isn't one. He was in the left turn lane about three car lengths ahead of her. She could clearly see his broad shoulders and bald dome through the back window. That's not the way to Pleasantville, she thought. Must be running errands. She checked the dashboard clock. Plenty of time before class. When the light turned green and traffic began to move she eased the car over into the left lane.
After making the turn Jane could see the truck ahead, with three cars between them. They were part of a stream of traffic that was moving slowly along the main strip in town which was riddled with fast food restaurants, service stations and an occasional strip mall. Apparently the trip was taking too long for the driver of the soft-top green Jeep Wrangler that was traveling behind Manteo. It suddenly lurched into the middle turn lane and sped past Manteo's rusty truck. The brake lights flashed and the jeep fishtailed back to the right in front of Manteo, somehow avoiding his front bumper.
Jane realized what was happening without even looking when she heard the familiar roar of Manteo's truck as he moved into that same center lane and surged past the jeep. Before he was able to return the favor and cut the jeep off, however, the jeep peeled off to the right where an exit ramp to the Philadelphia Expressway had opened up. She hoped Manteo would let the skirmish die, but he didn't. Instead, he cut off as many cars as he needed to in order to veer across two lanes and follow the jeep up the ramp.
She'd seen this before, many times from up close in the passenger seat when her husband was behind the wheel. There was too much testosterone in play now for this to die down. Each driver had issued a challenge to the other and neither showed signs of backing down. Jane wasn't even sure whether or not either driver had actually intended to merge onto the expressway until the conflict forced them into it. This wasn't going to turn out well. Somehow she felt compelled to follow. Before she knew it and without much thought she had reached the exit ramp and found herself rolling onto the expressway in her Toyota. There would be no yoga tonight.
The expressway wasn't so busy that she couldn't see what had become of Manteo and the jeep, but they were already far enough ahead that she didn't know what was happening. They're probably racing, she thought. Each looking for an opening to cut the other off. She jammed a foot on the gas pedal until she was doing eighty, causing her four-cylinder economy import to groan and shake. After a minute she could make out the white truck, but traffic prevented her from getting any closer. "Come on!" she yelled at the two cars that were blocking her from advancing. Brake lights were now splattering like fireworks up ahead. What was going on up there? She watched helplessly as the action faded away in the distance.
The driver of the silver Chevy finally moved out of Jane's way when she could barely see Manteo. She shot past, intending to catch up. As she passed car after car she asked herself what she thought she was doing, why she'd followed them onto the expressway and why she was now driving like a mad woman. She had no answers but maintained her speed anyway. It was a question for later.
It took three minutes of leaning on the gas pedal for Jane to make up the ground she'd lost. When she was within a couple hundred feet of Manteo, who was also in the left lane, there were no longer any cars between them. By the distance that the other drivers were keeping from the two combatants it was clear that the battle had continued. Manteo was behind the jeep but there was very little space between their vehicles. Jane gasped with every flicker of brake lights. If this didn't stop, somebody was going to get seriously hurt. It was time to show herself. Maybe if he saw her he'd snap out of it and come to his senses, the way he had when she'd found him screaming in his truck. She pulled into the right lane and accelerated, planning to pull alongside and attract his attention.
Before she got there the brake lights of the jeep flashed to life. Jane was shocked. The driver of the jeep had to know Manteo was no more than a couple of feet from his rear bumper as they traveled at high speed. Was he willing to risk serious injury or even his life to go for the win by making his opponent flinch? Yes he was, apparently. She pushed hard on her own brakes to keep herself out of the danger zone.
Manteo was in trouble and he knew it. One of the bizarre but accepted premises of road rage battles was that if the other driver forces you to hit his car, you are the loser. He slammed on the brakes but it wasn't enough. His truck swung violently into the right lane, filling the space that Jane's car would have occupied had she not slowed down a split second earlier. By the way the back end led the truck into the right lane she thought there might have been contact with the jeep. The truck swerved from side to side, its tires squealing until Manteo regained control. Even sitting in relative safety in another car she was afraid as she smelled the burnt rubber of Manteo's tires. They should be scared too, she thought. How is it possible to get so insanely angry?
With Manteo and the jeep side by side in separate lanes it became a drag race on the now wide open road. Still shaken, Jane didn't try to keep up. She'd be able to see all she needed from where she was. The jeep had built a lead when Manteo nearly lost control, but now the white truck was steadily catching up. It appeared that the driver of the jeep wanted only to escape but now Manteo was on the verge of overtaking him. A cloud of blue exhaust smoke puffed from the tailpipe of the truck as it shot forward in one last burst. She could see Manteo turn his head to glare into the jeep when he'd completely caught up. The other driver must have seen something in Manteo's face that he didn't like. Or maybe he was finally afraid now that the enemy had taken his best punch and was still standing. The jeep's speed dropped markedly. After Manteo rocketed past the jeep it moved into the right lane and onto the shoulder where it stopped abruptly.
Jane drove past, relieved that it was over. She let out a gasp of air and wiped her forehead. She would take the next exit, turn around and go back home. By the looks of her perspiring face Steve would never know that she'd skipped yoga class and gone for a drive. All she had to do now was stay out of Manteo's sight until she reached an exit.
That seemed like an easy feat at the moment, but that all changed when Manteo barreled across her lane and stopped the truck on the right shoulder. That's bad, she knew. There was nothing she could do but keep driving and hope he didn't notice her. When his white reverse lights came on she knew for certain that the trouble wasn't over after all. She glanced in the rear view mirror just in time to see that the truck was flying backwards toward the parked jeep. She pulled onto the shoulder and parked until she could decide what to do. Or pretend to decide. She already knew.
Manteo had almost reached his target when Jane turned her head to back up the same way he had. Traffic flew by, inches away. The engine whined as she picked up speed. By the time she cut the engine some fifty feet away both Manteo and the jeep driver were already out of their cars.
The body language of the two men said it all as they walked toward each other. She wasn't close enough to get a good look at Jeep Driver but she could tell what he was thinking. His arms were spread as he smiled, shrugged and talked. It was clear that he was suddenly feeling either apologetic or frightened about the whole thing. Jane had the feeling that if he got through this, Jeep Driver would find a way to control his road rage for the rest of his life.
Manteo, on the other hand, looked angrier than ever as he stalked at Jeep Driver as if he was going to walk right through him. As cars rushed past Jane asked herself if she really wanted to get involved with what she was watching. Things like this happened all the time to people she didn't know. And Manteo was nothing but that -- somebody she didn't know. It wasn't too late to start the car and pull away without looking back. Neither man had noticed her.
But she couldn't. She stepped out of the car.
Jeep Driver probably wasn't even twenty years old, and not very big. Over a crew cut he wore a backwards baseball cap and baggy shorts, the uniform worn by most college-aged kids on a lazy fall day like this one. He had just started to smile or even laugh his way into an obvious attempt at a "Sorry man, these things happen, we're cool, right?" ending when he and Manteo reached each other. Manteo grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged him almost effortlessly back to the side of the jeep that faced away from the road. Jeep Driver tried to put up a fight but he was no match for a giant like Manteo. By the time Jane reached them he was pinned against the door with Manteo's hands wrapped around his neck, flailing away helplessly with his arms as his face reddened.
"Rob!" Jane yelled, trying to be heard above the rush of the roadway. "Let him go!" Both men turned toward her as best they could under the circumstances. A choking, grunting sound that could only be coming from Jeep Driver filled the air as the three eyed each other. "Let him go!" she repeated. Manteo turned back toward his prey without changing his grip.
"You're going to kill him! Do you understand that! Let go!" Another car passed. "Somebody's probably called the police already! Let him go!" She took a step forward without knowing what she would do. "You're going to kill him!"
Manteo glared at her with his cloudy, yellowy eyes but released his grip. She could feel the hate. Jeep Driver's hands went to his own neck, which he probed carefully. His body slid down against the door, landing him in a seated position on the gravelly roadside as he gasped and coughed without looking at Jane or Manteo.
"Come on!" Jane told Manteo. When he didn't respond she reached out and pulled him at the elbow, but he was as immovable as he looked. He neither moved nor pulled his arm out of her grasp. He wouldn't even look at her.
"I'm leaving," she said. "You have to go right now, too." She looked down at Jeep Driver, who was breathing hard but no longer looked to be in distress. "You'll be all right," she told him. "But you better get out of here. It'll be nothing but trouble. You're as bad as he is. He's just bigger." This time when she tugged on Manteo's arm he followed. He still hadn't uttered a syllable. Nobody else had either. Nobody but her.
When they reached his truck, which was still running, she opened the driver side door and let go of his arm. Without a word he climbed in and pulled the door shut. Jane wanted to say something, anything, but the words didn't come. She waved at him through the window to pull away. Jeep Driver hadn't moved from where he was slumped on the side of the road. Good, Jane thought. No use having these two near each other on the road again. She walked up the shoulder and slipped into her own car. Only then did Manteo pull back onto the road and head away into the dusk.
~~~
She could have taken the next exit and doubled back toward home, but she decided not to. It was already too late for class and it was too early for her to show up at the house without Steve asking questions she didn't feel like answering. Instead, she followed Manteo past exit after exit as he drove up the expressway toward Philadelphia. Where was he going? And why do I care?
She wondered how different things would have been had she not happened to see him at a traffic light and decide to follow him. Would he have killed that kid? It sure looked as though he intended to until he spotted her, and he'd nearly succeeded before she convinced him to let go. What if I hadn't been there? And what if this wasn't the first time? If it had happened before, how had it turned out those times?
It was near dark when she trailed him down an exit ramp fifteen miles later. Traffic thinned quickly after they turned onto county 571, a two-lane blacktop with a double yellow line. One thing she knew for sure as they wound through the thickening forest. They were nowhere near Pleasantville. In his state of mind she didn't think he'd recognize her car, assuming he even remembered it, but she stayed back as far as she could anyway.
The novelty of following him had subsided and now she was growing anxious about how she was going to explain why she was home so late from yoga. Despite the worry about what Manteo had done, she knew she'd be angry at herself for the rest of the night because she'd done something impulsive and gotten involved in a dangerous situation. Yet, she knew why she had done it. Somehow she was intrigued by what little she'd learned about his background. But not enough for this, she argued with herself. What was I thinking?
After a few miles on the county road the white truck made a left turn through a yellow light onto another two-laner. She waited for the light to turn green again, hoping he'd still be within sight while at the same time vowing that she would turn around and go home after five more minutes. Manteo was nowhere to be seen after she made the turn but she kept going anyway, keeping to the five minute pledge. Just as she was scouting the side of the road for a place to turn around, the glare of brake lights appeared ahead.
When she came to a break in the woods, marked by two brick pillars on either side of a driveway, she was sure she'd reached the spot where Manteo had hit the brakes and vanished. 621 Falling Run Road, an ornate plaque on one of the pillars told her. She slowed nearly to a stop and looked up the driveway as she crawled past. Sure enough, there was the truck, stopped about fifty yards away next to a small building.
At the far end of the driveway past the spot where the truck was parked was a well-lit brick house. No, a mansion. It looked to be five times the size of her own. From what she could see in the twilight it was surrounded by several acres of well-manicured lawn. Somebody had carved a space out of the forest and built a beautiful house out there in the middle of nowhere. She wasn't even sure exactly where she was anymore, although she knew it would be easy to retrace her path to get back home.
Next to the truck, silhouetted against a landscaped patch bathed in artificial lighting in front of the house, was a hulking figure that could only be Manteo. He approached the structure, which was either a small garage or a large shed. Asking herself yet again what she thought she was doing and why any of this mattered to her, she turned off her headlights and rolled down the window. Through the trees she could hear thumps and clanks, the same ones she heard every night when he packed up his equipment after a day's work. Apparently, she decided, he was transferring tools between the shed and truck. It must be that whoever lives in the mansion lets him keep his gear here. But why would he keep anything here when he lives in Pleasantville? As she tried to make sense of it she heard the truck door slam just before it roared away and disappeared behind the house.
There was nothing left to see. She started the engine and drove up the road until she found a place in the dark to turn around. This time she didn't plan to stop as she passed the house. But when a gleaming burgundy Mercedes-Benz shot out into the beams of her headlights from between the pillars and onto the road ahead of her she had to hit the brakes again after all.
"Speaking," Steve said into his cell phone. He scrambled for the remote and then muted the sound on the movie that he and Jane were watching. "It's the techie guy from work," he whispered to his wife after putting his hand over the phone. "What's up, Nick? Did you find anything?"
He stood up to listen to the answer. A few seconds later he was scowling. "That can't be," he insisted. "Are you sure? Did you double check?" He shook his head from side to side as he listened to the answer. "Did you email that to me? Okay. Do me a favor, Nick. Check it one more time. Please."
Jane knew enough about what was going on to understand what Nick the intern was telling Steve. Even though the promotion had already been awarded, her husband still had his sights set on that job and he'd pinned his hopes on proving that Cindy sabotaged his programs. Now his mole in the IT department was telling him that it never happened and that the files were clean. She pitied Nick because she knew Steve was going to bulldog him until he got what he wanted, even if there was no evidence to find because there had been no tampering.
"You know it's not by name, right? Did you look up her computer account ID?" Another pause.
"Okay. But don't call me at work. Call me here tomorrow night just like you did now. Make sure you look at every file, now. Okay? Okay. Thanks, Nick." He snapped the phone shut. "He didn't find shit. Maybe he's too green for this after all. I wish there was somebody else I could ask."
"Maybe there's nothing to find," Jane said. "You have to admit it's a long shot that Cindy would do something like that."
"I don't know about that. This is a pretty big promotion, especially for her. I think she went all out for it." He reached for the remote. "Nick will have something for me tomorrow. He half-assed it but now he knows I'm not kidding around. I lit a fire under his butt this time."
~~~
A lot happened the next morning with regard to Steve's secret probe of the Regal computers, none of it being what he had hoped for. The first email he saw in his box after logging on was from Cindy Cary, the new Director of Programming Quality Control. He popped it open and the news wasn't good.
Steve,
What in the world is this? What are you doing? If you have something to accuse me of please do it to my face. Did you get permission to have IT snooping around my account? We need to talk, and I plan to pass this on to Javier. I'll come by.
Cindy.
Embedded in the email was a copy of the note that Nick the intern had sent to Steve the night before in which described what he'd done and summarized the results of his efforts. He studied the time stamps and addressing history and realized that they'd been modified so that it was impossible to tell who had sent what, and when. Since he knew he was the only recipient of that email, and he knew he himself hadn't forwarded it to anybody, the only logical conclusion was that his secret weapon in the IT department wasn't so secret after all. It appeared that Nick had double-crossed him, or at least betrayed his trust, by forwarding his report to Cindy as well as to Steve. The worst part of Cindy's email was that as Cindy had mentioned, Javier Ramos had been copied. This was going to be bad.
He started to type an angry email to Nick, but then deleted it. This was something that needed to be done in person, with no paper or electronic trail. The chair flew backwards as he jumped to his feet to go confront Nick. Everything stopped when he looked up and saw Cindy in the doorway.
~~~
After making her online log entries Jane found herself with a few minutes of free time before she needed to get back to the hallways for her rounds. Since all she could think about was the journey up the expressway from the night before, she indulged herself by clicking on the Google Earth icon. She typed in the address from memory and watched the image zoom into North America, the east coast of the United States and finally the blotchy green spaces of Southern New Jersey. A few mouse clicks later she was looking from the perspective of a satellite at the brick mansion that she had secretly followed Manteo to. She could even see the shed next to the driveway that he'd moved his tools to. Surrounded by lush lawns and thick woods, it was as magnificent from space as it had appeared to be in the dusk.
~~~
"You can't do that!" Cindy said loudly. "You can't just do stuff like this! Who said you could snoop around my account? You violated about ten SOPs and most of the code of conduct. Is this about my promotion? Of course it is!" She shook her head and spread her arms. "Have you lost your mind, Steve? What were you thinking?"
"How did you get that email?" Steve yelled back at her. "That was private! Is that little rat working for you?"
"That's your problem," she retorted. "This is a lot more serious than finding out how I got that email. But I outrank you now, don't I? Maybe the kid's smarter than you think."
"I know those programs worked!" Steve shouted. "You were the only one who was ever around them and then blammo, two thirds of them are fucked! What am I supposed to think? The system fucked up but only wrecked my programs?"
"Just come out and say it. I have to hear you say it."
He hesitated before answering, but not for long. "Okay, I will. I think you fucked up my programs," he said firmly. "I think you waited as late as you could so there wasn't any time for me to fix them. You wanted to make me look as bad as possible. Then you and that other girl swoop in and save the day. Because somehow, in ten thousand lines of code, you knew exactly what to fix. Nobody could have gone through all that code and gotten it working unless they knew where to look. And I'll prove it. Make no mistake about it."
"You really have lost your mind. Steve, it's me, Cindy. Hello!"
"And it fucking worked! Your whole fucking plan worked! You stole my fucking job!" He'd lost count of the f-bombs he'd been dropping. As the last one was rolling off his tongue he noticed that Javier Ramos had appeared at Cindy's shoulder just inside the doorway and had probably heard more than Steve would have wanted him to hear.
~~~
I know where it is and I know what it looks like, but who lives there? She clicked into Google and typed the address in the box. Seconds later a few hits appeared. She heard footsteps. She wasn't doing anything wrong but it wouldn't be wise to be caught sitting at the computer when there was always something that needed doing. She quickly found a common denominator in the hits on the screen before clearing it. One name. Richard Creedmoor. But who is Richard Creedmoor and what does he have to do with Manteo?
~~~
At four o'clock, well before he usually left for the day, Steve grabbed his briefcase and walked out of his office. Instead of heading to the elevators he veered to the back stairs, walked down two floors and weaved through millions of dollars worth of computer equipment until he found the closet-sized room that Nick and the other interns shared. "We need some privacy," he told the unshaven kid who was poring over printouts with Nick. He got up and left without a word.
"Why'd you do this to me?" Steve demanded when they were alone. "Why did you send that email to Cindy Cary? I thought we had something going between us! What happened to all that 'I owe you one' bullshit? I almost got fired a couple hours ago because of what you did!" It only took five minutes for Nick to convince Steve that he'd forwarded nothing, no emails or phone messages, to Cindy or anybody else. The clincher was when he called up his own personal email account and let Steve poke around. Steve left feeling more confused than ever.
~~~
"If you think I'm getting up there," Tom told the others at the table, "You better keep the beers coming. And beer might not be enough." Jane and Kristie had talked their husbands into spending Friday night at the karaoke bar at Caesars in Atlantic City. It had been Kristie's idea, actually. Jane had mixed feelings about any kind of date with her husband, especially one that happened to be a few casinos up the boardwalk from the Tropicana, where the pictures had been taken. In fact, she felt funny being in Atlantic City at all.
At least they didn't have to worry about Allie for the night. She'd been left with Ann and Wendell Morehead, a fifty-something couple down the street. The next morning either Steve or Jane would walk down and pick her up, making sure to allow time for the customary chocolate chip waffles that Ann always served.
"Did you ever notice that they always sing 'Bad Bad Leroy Brown' at karaoke bars on TV?" Steve asked. "And it's always a Japanese guy."
"They can have it," Tom said.
"I need alcohol fast," Steve said to Tom. "All hell broke loose at work today. It was ugly."
"Yeah, I heard things weren't so hot there. Kristie told me about it yesterday. That sucks, sorry you didn't get that job."
"That's just the beginning," Steve said. "A lot happened today. Everybody found out that I was investigating that woman on the sly. The woman that got the job. They even had all my emails. I broke a few rules but I was so careful! I don't know what went wrong. My boss hauled my ass into his office and tore me a new one. I'm on internal probation right now. I think the asshole just made that up, but the point is that I'm on thin ice." Jane was shocked as she listened from across the table. She knew he hadn't gotten the job, and she was worried about his arrangement with the intern, but this was the first she'd heard about what had happened with Cindy and Mr. Ramos earlier that day.
When the karaoke stage opened up and two women shared the microphone to sing a Beyonce tune the club was noisy enough that Jane felt like she could tell Kristie what Rob had done on the expressway the night before. When she finished explaining what had happened Kristie was surprisingly nonplussed. "We already knew he was nutty," she said. "The craziest part of the story isn't him. It's you. Why in the world were you following him?"
The song ended and the club erupted in applause. Jane looked nervously across the table at Tom and Steve. She decided that she didn't care if they went up on stage and made fools of themselves, but she didn't want any part of it. She relaxed when it appeared that another group of drunken men was taking the microphone.
"Don't you see what's going on with him? He was about to go completely out of control. What if I hadn't shown up?"
"What difference would it make?" Kristie asked. "You'd find somebody else to finish the painting. That's all. Didn't you say he didn't show up today anyway? He's bat shit crazy. So is anybody whose blood is loaded with steroids. We already talked about this, remember?"
"I think he's sick."
"Of course he is," laughed Kristie. "Anybody would be."
"He's really far along, though," Jane said. "No hair on his head but everywhere else he looks like an ape. I saw his back. He hides it but I saw it once. Covered with acne. And his eyes, that's the worst. It looks like he has hepatitis. They're so yellow."
"I'm sure his liver is shot. That's why. As you well know. But now that you've seen his temper are you having second thoughts about letting Allie around him? Because you should be. He could flip out at anything she does that pisses him off. That's what people who are hopped up on steroids do."
"I saw it firsthand on the expressway. Now that was road rage. Or 'roid rage, as Steve would say," Jane said before taking a sip of her daiquiri. "But it just doesn't worry me when Allie is with him. If you saw them together you'd see."
"I feel like I should tell Steve about this. For Allie's sake," Kristie said.
"Don't. I'm telling you. Just don't."
"Jane?" Kristie said, placing her hand on top of Jane's. "What is it?"
"There's something you don't know about," Jane said.
"Yeah!" Steve yelled as a man belted out 'Welcome to The Jungle.' "Guns and Roses! That's what I'm talking about!" Jane had been watching out of the corner of her eye and knew he had just been served his fourth beer. It wouldn't be long before he was up on stage, especially now that he knew they did his kind of music. If she wasn't the designated driver she'd have started throwing back daiquiris because she knew he'd try to drag her up there with him.
"Let's go next! All four of us!" Steve said. "What song do we all know?" He and Tom put their heads together to work it out. Kristie leaned in. It was too much for Jane. Trying not to make a scene but knowing there was no way not to, she got up and left the club.
Kristie tracked her down next to a fountain near the hotel's front desk. "What happened?" she asked. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I just needed some air, I guess."
"Yeah, right. The air's worse out here then in there. What happened?"
"I didn't want to go on stage. I just don't feel like it. Steve would've hassled me if I stayed."
"So you got stage fright," Kristie giggled. "You just didn't drink enough."
"He's cheating on me, Kristie," Jane said.
"What? What are you talking about?"
"I'm not going up there and smile and sing with him. Not when he's cheating on me," Jane said.
"Are you sure? My God! When did all this happen?"
"I have pictures," Jane told her. "I'm so confused. I'm crushed. I haven't slept in our bed since I saw the pictures."
"Who took the pictures? Does Steve know that you know?"
"No. I haven't said anything about it."
"He must know something's up if you're not sleeping with him," Kristie pointed out.
"I just say it's too hot in the bedroom and I need some air. Then I go sleep on the couch," Jane explained. "It's only been a few nights. He's been so upset about work that he hardly notices. I didn't know what else to do. But I'm not going up and singing with him like we're the Osmonds or something."
The husbands showed up before she could answer, which was a relief to Jane. When Kristie eventually got around to asking, it wasn't going to sound good that she got the pictures from an anonymous Facebook poster. "Are you all right, Jane?" Tom asked. "We thought maybe you were sick."
"Yeah I'm good," Jane answered.
"Don't tell me," Steve said sarcastically. "You needed some air, right?"
"It's time to go home, anyway," Kristie said. "It's just as well."
"What? We were the next act!" Steve protested. Kristie whispered something to Tom, who caught Steve's eye before jerking his head toward the exit. Each sulking and brooding for their own reason, the four wound through Caesars and into the parking garage without a word. They were halfway home before anybody spoke, and that was about the next day's weather.
~~~
"That was really selfish of you, what you did there tonight," Steve said to Jane after they'd dropped Kristie and Tom off and gone home. "I really needed to get out. I really needed a night to forget about all the shit that's happening to me. Just when I was starting to relax you put on your fucking drama queen act and fuck it all up."
Jane stared at him, wondering how in the world she'd ever thought he was the one. There was no point in talking with him right now. That he was slurring his words showed her that he wouldn't be rational about anything. He'd just be nasty. She wasn't ready to talk about what was bothering her the most, anyway. "You'll get over it," she said simply, before leaving the room and heading for the stairs. She heard him stumbling at the bottom step just as she reached the top.
"No way!" he yelled. "You don't walk out on me when we're talking! No way!"
"Hold on a minute," she answered as he labored up the stairs. "Who walked out on who again?" What's gotten into me? I've never done this before. What's he going to do?
By then he'd reached the top of the stairs but Jane had escaped to the bedroom. "You walked out on me twice!" he bellowed. "At the club and just now! What's going on with you?"
"Drop it. Just drop it."
He grabbed her by the arm as she was turning to go into the bathroom. "Don't you ever tell me what to do. What's your problem? Why are you acting like this?"
She yanked her arm away, thankful that he was too drunk to do anything about it. "Don't do that again. I'm not kidding." After entering the bathroom she locked the door and sat on the toilet with her head in her hands.
The rattle of the doorknob and then two fist pounds on the door came shortly after. "Goddamn you, bitch!" When did he drink so much? I hardly saw him with a glass in his hand. She didn't think he'd even remember it in the morning. He might even be unconscious by the time she finished up in the bathroom.
But he wasn't.
"Don't tell me you're sleeping downstairs again tonight," he said from where he sat on the edge of the bed.
"I think I am," she said, bracing herself for his reaction.
"Why? And I don't want to hear any crap about how hot it is. It was never too hot before. Not until this week. What the hell's going on with you?"
She walked over and pulled a clean nightgown from a drawer, a convenient excuse for turning her back on him. "Well, if I was going to sleep with you tonight, I'm not now. I don't appreciate you punching the door and cussing me out."
He punched his palm with his fist. "Damn! What's going on? What did I do?"
As if you didn't know, she thought. But she wasn't ready to reveal what she'd found out. Not until she knew what she was going to do about it. "I'm tired," she said as she walked toward the door with the nightgown in her hand. "I'm going to bed."
He got up and stood in the doorway. Is he going to stop me from leaving? Who's the caveman now? Is he going to rape me?
"Just wait a minute," he said. "Slow down a little, will you? Come on, Jane. Let's not do this."
"Do what?" she asked, stopping halfway.
"You have to admit you've been a real bitch this week. Right? It's not like you're on the rag or anything."
Her lips clamped together as she glared at him. "Forget it," she said. "I'm going to bed." She moved to the door, trying to hide her fear of what he might do. At the last minute he turned sideways, enough to let her pass. She heard the door slam when she was halfway down the stairs. It could have been worse, she reminded herself.
~~~
The next day was a quiet one in the Havelock household, but only because Jane and Steve didn't speak a word to each other. Occasionally a message was relayed subtly through Allie, but for the most part there was no communication between the adults. The first words weren't exchanged directly until about eight-thirty that evening.
"I'm firing the caveman," Steve said out loud when he knew Jane was in the room. "Today was his last chance. I'll finish the painting tomorrow. I already called Eddie. He's coming over to help."
Jane bristled, enough that she broke her silence. "This is his job. It's only been one day."
"It's been two, and we don't know if he's coming back at all. I can't do it during the week so it's got to be tomorrow."
"That's not fair to him! It's his job. You don't know what he's been through!"
"And you do? Let's hear it!"
She'd already said more than she meant to. Instead of saying anymore she turned and walked out of the room. When that wasn't enough, she walked out of the house and sat on the front steps, trying to decide what to do. Three hours later, after learning that there was no way for a tired body to get comfortable on a set of concrete steps, she slipped back into the dark house and passed out on the couch.
"Oh, sorry, Jane," Eddie said as he passed through the living room. "I didn't see you there." Even though she was fully clothed in the jeans and blouse she'd worn the night before, Jane pulled the tattered quilt over her body as she came out of a deep sleep. Eddie was carrying two steaming cups of coffee in a cardboard tray. Somehow that told Jane that it was early. She rolled into the back of the couch without answering just in time to avoid eye contact with her husband, who was calling out to Eddie without any apparent concern about waking her.
So he hadn't just been trying to irritate her by talking about firing Manteo. He really was planning to finish the paint job. Since Eddie was already there this must have been planned even before the fight the night before. That surprised her. So did the fact that Steve was up and about at all. This was the only time she could remember in a long while that he'd been up this early on a weekend for anything but an early tee time with his golfing buddies.
Eddie tried to keep his voice down but Jane could hear him probing, trying to understand why Jane was on the couch. She didn't even try to listen in on what Steve told him because she knew it would be nonsense. It was unlikely that Steve himself knew why she was so upset with him. As far as he knew, the affair was still a secret. Even if he did know, there was no way he would confess that to Eddie. That wasn't his style.
"Hey Steve," Eddie yelled from the extra bedroom, forgetting momentarily that there were two people in the house still trying to sleep, "Where's the paint for this room? It's not in here, that's for sure."
"Shit," Steve shouted back. "Don't tell me the caveman still has it. It's got to be around here somewhere." Jane knew it wasn't without even looking. She'd watched Manteo long enough to know he only brought inside what he would need on a given day. The rest of the paint was either in his truck or in the little shed at the brick mansion.
What about that brick mansion? Is that where he's been? He was in danger of losing his gig at the Havelocks now that he'd disappeared for a few days. Maybe he didn't care, now that he had something new going. It was probably a nicer place for him to hang out, although he didn't seem the type to care about such things. There was something strange about what he was doing at that house, though. She was sure she didn't fully understand what she'd seen that night.
Eddie came back through with some painting equipment that he'd brought from home. After making sure he was out of sight Jane gathered herself and went upstairs to take a shower. Since the laptop was still in the bedroom she took it into the bathroom with her for another secret Facebook session. There was another note from Mike Albemarle. This one was even more brief than the others but it invited her to check the updated photo albums. Why not, she asked herself. It couldn't really get any worse.
The new pictures hardly seemed new. They, of course, showed her husband with the same woman. In the first batch they were together in a hotel corridor, about to open the door to a room. In the next group they were wearing different clothes and were eating breakfast, most likely the next morning. It had been a few months but she could remember a few times when her husband could have pulled it off, under the cover of one of the occasional weekend jaunts he loved to take with his friends. She wondered what she'd been doing at that exact moment in time. Probably sitting half awake in the living room with Allie preparing for a new day without her husband around.
It hadn't been very long since she'd started looking at pictures like these so she was shocked at how analytical she'd become. The first time she was angry and upset. Now she studied them like a doctor checking x-rays at the hospital. She thought it odd that anybody who knew her, and thus likely to be familiar to Steve, was able to get close enough to take these pictures. Wouldn't Steve have objected? Maybe the photographer used a zoom lens, or maybe he took them from a concealed location. Then again, it didn't matter how he did it, she reminded herself. It only mattered what the pictures showed.
She typed a quick message back to Mike Albemarle.
Mike,
Can you send me everything you have? Do I know you? Can we meet? If you are really trying to help me that would be the best way.
J
~~~
"What do you want for breakfast?" Jane asked a sleepy-faced Allie, who came out of her room at just about the same time Jane came out of her own. She wanted waffles. Jane felt guilty for talking her into cold cereal, but she'd made some plans during her shower that didn't leave time for making waffles. After setting Allie up she took a deep breath, composed herself and went into the den.
It looked like the men had found the paint for that room because the job was well underway. The edges weren't as sharp as the ones Manteo had done but it looked like a passable job. Steve turned away when he saw Jane come in, but Eddie didn't.
"What do you think, Jane?" he asked.
"It looks okay," she answered. "I guess."
"Just okay?" Steve asked without looking her way. "Get off. It looks as good as the other rooms."
"Not really," Jane countered. "The edges aren't straight and there are a few drips. And I think it's going to need another coat."
"At least it got done," Steve snapped. "If that bum we hired would finish his work we wouldn't even be here."
Jane watched him sealing a paint can with a rubber mallet before she spoke. "What about the other room?" she asked. "You didn't find the paint, did you?"
"It's not here," Eddie said. "We looked everywhere. Too bad. We'd have plenty of time to start the last room."
"Not only did he skip out on us, he stole all the paint we bought," Steve snapped.
"This is wrong," Jane said. "It's Rob's job. He's not a bum. I'm sure he has a good reason for not being here. We hired him and we owe him the chance to finish it."
"Don't even start," Steve said. "We don't owe him squat. As a matter of fact, he owes us for the paint he stole. I'm calling the Better Business Bureau on him tomorrow. Maybe we can save somebody else from getting scammed."
Eddie laughed. "I'm sure he's a member in good standing."
"He didn't steal anything," Jane argued. "We didn't get scammed. You've said it yourself for three months. He's the best bargain we ever had."
"Maybe I should call the police, too," Steve continued. "He's got criminal written all over him."
"Cut it out!"
"Oh, did I hit a friggin' nerve? You've got a soft spot for the caveman, don't you?"
"Give it a rest," Jane replied. "I just think he deserves to be treated decently. I think I know where to find him. I'll go talk to him. Maybe I can get him to come back."
"I'm not surprised. You and the fucking caveman are getting pretty cozy. Something going on there?"
"Look who's talking!" Jane shot back.
There was never any danger that the mallet would hit her. She tracked it as it left his hand and soared end over end across the room in her direction. It smacked the wall a few feet from where she stood as she leaned in the opposite direction. Chunks of freshly painted sheetrock broke free and dropped to the floor along with the mallet. Beads of wet paint splattered across one of her shoulders and onto the floor around her. She watched the mallet clatter to the floor before turning to face Steve with her mouth hanging open.
"What the fuck is going on with you and the caveman?" Steve yelled. "Really! I want to know. Is that why you cut me off from sex? Tell me, damnit!" He stood and punched the wall, denting the sheetrock. "You actually know where he lives?" he asked as he rubbed his knuckles.
"Mommy?" Allie said from the doorway where she stood holding her cereal spoon. "I want more." How long had she been there, Jane wondered with horror as she ran to her and hustled her back to the kitchen. What had she seen?
"Christ almighty," Eddie said after Jane had pushed Allie out of the room. "You just threw a hammer at your wife right in front of your daughter. What's the matter with you? What's going on?" He glared at his friend. "Are you screwing around with somebody? Why did she say that?"
"Hell, no! It's a long story," Steve answered. "There's a lot going on."
"No kidding. Maybe you better start from the beginning. But not now. You've got more important things to do."
"By the way," Steve said. "It was a rubber mallet, not a hammer. Big difference."
~~~
Allie was okay as she walked down the hall with her mother but she fell apart quickly after that. She was crying so hard back in the kitchen that she couldn't speak. Jane felt like crying herself. She'd meant what she'd said about looking for Manteo. Until then the plan had been for her to go alone but she'd been too busy ducking hammers to arrange that. Right now Allie doesn't want to stay here any more than I do. She can come with me. The only question in her mind was whether she should bother with the trip at all. Even if she tracked Manteo down and convinced him to come back, Steve would never stand for it.
For now, none of that mattered. Getting out of the house was all she could think about. She could already hear Eddie scolding Steve for what he'd done. It wouldn't be long before he was in the kitchen with an empty apology. She scooped up her keys, grabbed her sobbing daughter by the hand and led her outside. The front door of the house opened just as they reached the car. Allie climbed into her car seat when Jane opened the rear door, but there was no time to latch her in. Jane slid in behind the wheel, started the car and backed down the driveway before Steve was even close. It wasn't until they were safely hidden behind McDonald's that she pulled over and buckled Allie in.
Although the mission seemed futile Jane decided to go through with it. Steve was out of control. He had been for a long time, and now Allie was getting old enough to understand what she was seeing. That very moment she was crying hysterically in the back seat after watching her father throw a hammer at her mother. As it stood now her world was about to collapse, at least in her child eyes. There was no way Jane could run from it anymore. Something has to give and it's up to me to make it happen.
She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Kristie's number. Kristie answered after two rings. "Hi Jane," she said after clearing her throat. "Everything all right?"
"Sorry. I woke you up, didn't I?"
"It's okay. Are you all right? Does your head hurt as bad as mine does?"
"I was the designated driver, remember?" Jane replied. "Can I come by? Allie's with me."
A few minutes later they pulled to the curb outside Kristie and Tom's rancher. Jane smiled as she remembered Tom complaining the night before about the pine needles he was constantly cleaning out of the gutter, followed by Kristie's refusal to allow the sixty foot loblolly pines that surrounded the house to be cut down. Kristie appeared in the front door when Jane and Allie were halfway up the driveway. She held the storm door open until the visitors had gone inside.
"I take it you're not on an early morning mall run?" Kristie asked.
"No. Is Tom around?" Jane asked, not sure how much she wanted to say if he was going to hear it.
"Yeah, he's around here somewhere, unless he went back to bed," Kristie told her. "He spent a few hours with his head in the toilet after we got home so he's pretty beat. What's up?"
"Can Allie sit in the living room for a minute?"
"Of course."
"Allie, go into the living room. Miss Kristie and I need to talk." Allie didn't budge. In fact, she clamped onto her mother's leg and hid her face.
"Would you like some toast?" Kristie asked Allie after bending down. "Or an English muffin?"
"Toast," Allie said with a nod after peeking out from behind her mother.
Kristie walked over to the counter top where a loaf of bread was already out. She pulled out a slice and slid it into the toaster. "Your mom and I are going to talk in the other room. Can you tell us when the toaster pops?" They left the kitchen after Allie nodded.
"Steve and I had a big fight," Jane whispered. "I think he knows that I know. I kind of mentioned it."
"Knows that you know what?" Kristie asked, before she remembered. "Oh, that. I was hoping I'd only imagined that."
"Rob hasn't been around for days. He left the paint job half done. I'm afraid he's in some kind of trouble. Steve says he's going to report him to the Better Business Bureau. Maybe even the police."
"The police?" Kristie exclaimed. "For what?" She took a deep breath. "Jane. Look at me. Why do you care, anyway?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "He told me a few things. I guess I feel sorry for him."
"The handyman? Like what?"
"There's no time right now. I know somebody who might know where he is. Can I leave Allie here for a while?"
"Sure, we're not doing anything. If it's okay with her," she added.
"I'm not asking her. I'll see you in a few hours."
"Okay."
"If Steve calls, I wasn't here."
"Okay," Kristie said again. "I hope you know what you're doing."
~~~
It was only after she pulled onto the expressway and checked the traffic behind her that she was sure she wasn't going to be chased by her husband. I almost wish he'd show up and make me come home, she admitted to herself. Knocking on that mansion door and asking how to find Manteo wasn't going to be easy.
The trip took longer this time since she was driving the speed limit. After leaving the expressway she followed county road 571 to the light before turning left. It would only be a few more minutes.
Maybe it was because it wasn't as dark outside but it seemed as though the stone pillars came more quickly than the last time. She took a deep breath as she tapped the brakes. When she reached the pillars she turned in without any hesitation. This time the shed door was closed and there was nobody in sight. Water from the sprinkler system spattered harmlessly on the windshield as she crept toward the house. After easing onto a circle near the front door she cut the engine, determined to deny herself any opportunity to turn back.
Creedmoor. The guy who lives here is Richard Creedmoor, Jane reminded herself. Checking that out on Google had turned out to be a good idea. It would look better if she knew at least something about whoever opened that door, even if it was just a name. But what was she going to say after that?
After smoothing her hair back and staring herself down in the rear-view mirror Jane stepped out of the car and walked up the brick steps and between the columns to the wood door. There was a doorbell as well as a brass knocker. She chose the knocker and rapped three times. After a minute passed she did it again. By then she knew nobody would answer. She wished Kristie was there. It was easy to run out of the house in a frenzy, but now what was she going to do? Go back? Of course, but when? How? What was Steve going to do?
A few minutes later it was clear that either nobody was home or whoever was inside wasn't going to open the door. It wasn't such a long ride, she thought, already rationalizing about her failure as she stood and waited. After another minute she admitted defeat and turned away -- until she heard the metallic sound of a deadbolt lock grating as it slid out of its slot. The knob on one of the doors was already turning when she looked back. Maybe she was about to learn something after all.
Eddie watched from inside as the car backed down the driveway and disappeared up the street, leaving Steve standing helplessly on the sidewalk. Instead of waiting for his friend to come back in he returned to the den to finish cleaning up. Within seconds the front door slammed. Steve stomped and slammed his way into the house and joined Eddie.
"What happened?" Eddie asked. "Did you catch her?"
Steve sighed. He sat down on a tarp and leaned back toward a wall which was wet with paint but caught himself in time. With his hands he pulled his legs into Indian style position before looking up. "Nope. She knew I was coming and she got out pretty quick. I could have followed her but what's the point? What would I say?"
Eddie picked up a paint-spattered blanket that he'd been using as a tarp for years and began folding it. "Yeah, what would you say? The way you were acting, it's probably better that she got out."
"I just don't know what's going on with her anymore."
"Dude! You just threw a hammer at her! Look at the wall over there if you can't remember doing it!"
Steve turned and looked at the gash in the wall, and then the mallet where it lay on the floor in a pile of gray dust. "It was a rubber mallet, but don't let the facts get in the way of your story, bro."
"Are you serious?" Eddie sputtered. "Jesus, man. Didn't we just talk about this a few weeks ago? Out on the deck? I thought you had your head back on straight but now you're more screwed up than ever." He tossed the folded tarp onto the floor next to a milk crate that was crammed with painting gear and picked up another, this one made of clear plastic. Dried paint chips rained onto the carpet as he threw it around looking for a good place to start folding. "I guess I should have taken these outside and shaken them out," he said loudly, trying to be heard above the crackling of the tarp.
"I think she's messing with the caveman, Eddie. My wife, with that nasty dude. You'd be mad, too."
"What do you mean, 'messing' with him?"
"What do you think I mean?" Steve asked. "Because I probably mean just what you think I mean."
"You think she's sleeping with him?" Eddie asked incredulously.
"I'm not sure. But they've gotten awfully close. Same with Allie. I heard her calling him Uncle Fucking Rob once. At least Jane made her stop calling him that. Where do you think they just ran off to? She actually knows where he lives."
"It didn't sound that way to me," Eddie countered. "I think it was more of 'a friend of a friend' type deal. But let's say she likes the guy and wants to look out for him. I'll buy it. What's so bad about that? When do we get to the part about them sleeping together?"
"She cut me off, Eddie. Nothing. She doesn't even sleep in the same bed with me anymore. That's not like her. I mean, she's all shy and quiet in public but she's usually ready to go once the lights go out. I've always told you about that. Especially after a night of drinking. But lately? Nothing for me."
"You two went out? What about me?"
"We went out with her friend from work and her husband the other night. We all had a few drinks and shit. Her friend's husband is a little doofy but he's okay once you get used to him. Anyway, we get back here, Jane and I, and wham! She's all pissy and next thing I know she's sleeping on the couch. That never happened before, not on a night we were out. Something's going on. I just know it. And I think I'm right about what it is."
"Yeah," Eddie said. "I saw her sacked out on the couch. But that's still a pretty big leap, to say she's, you know. Screwing around on you. Maybe she was pissed because you acted like a dick while you were out, which I'll bet you did. Like you did today. Did you ever consider that?"
"Don't you think it's weird that she ran right to him this morning when things got rough?" Steve asked. "Because I sure do."
"Yeah," Eddie conceded. "If that's what she did. That's hard to explain. It doesn't sound like Jane at all. But you really don't know jack about why she's acting this way. You could be completely wrong. You have no idea where she went or what she's doing there. I just don't believe it about Jane, I'll tell you that."
~~~
Jane silently repeated the name of the owner of the house as the last lock klacked and the door began to open. Creedmoor. Better make it Mr. Creedmoor. All she wanted to know was how to get in touch with the handyman that kept his tools in the little shed. She was prepared for this Richard Creedmoor. But that didn't help after the door was open enough for her to see inside. Not when she saw a half-naked Rob Manteo standing in the doorway with his hand on the knob. She wasn't sure who was more surprised.
"Rob!" she said after they stared at each other for a few seconds. "What are you doing here?"
He was truly a mountain of muscle, towering over her even more than usual because the porch was several inches lower than the floor he stood on. His thick beard seemed to be moving higher on his face, to the point where it would soon encroach on his eyes. She'd never seen him close up with his shirt off. His skin was the same deep brown it had always been. Interestingly, there were no tan lines, although she'd rarely seen him working outside with no shirt. His muscular neck, covered with stubble that threatened to link up with the thick swirly hair on his chest as it already had with his beard, was so much wider than his head that he didn't even look human. The muscles on top of his shoulders were so oversized that they seemed to extend from his ears to his chiseled arms, which bulged in every direction all the way to his wrists. His abdominal muscles, free of any traces of fat, rippled from side to side just below the monstrous pectorals that cast a shadow halfway down to his belly button. The skin-tight sweat pants he wore did little to hide the massive muscles that ran from just below his waist to taper off at his knees before exploding sharply the rest of the way down. If she'd had any doubt about what he'd told her about the vast amounts of chemicals he was consuming, those doubts were history. He was a freak. Nothing short of a freak.
He'd distorted his body through exercise, and even more by steroid abuse, but his eyes still made her most uncomfortable of all. It had gotten worse since the last time she'd had such a good look at them. They were pasty and yellow, so dark that she wondered how well he could even see. She felt like reaching out and scraping the layer of dingy crust that seemed to cover them. As she gawked, momentarily speechless, everything she'd read about steroids and supplements since he confessed what he was doing rushed through her mind. His eyes were a window on what was going on inside his body. He was well on his way to killing himself. All over a promise that he hadn't ever really made.
~~~
"You want to know what I think?" Eddie asked. By then his equipment was packed up neatly in the hallway. "About all of this?"
"No. Well, yes. What does the wise man think about all of this?" Steve replied.
"I sure as heck don't think your wife is cheating on you. That's for sure."
Steve shrugged. "It's just a hunch. I'm not sure either."
"I think the chickens are coming home to roost. You've put her through a lot of shit over the years. I know. I've watched it. She's finally fed up with it. That's all. That's all this is. She got tired of you treating her like crap all the time. I never thought it was possible but Jane Havelock is steamed and she's not going to kiss your ass anymore. That's all this is."
"You make me sound like a complete asshole. I'm not so bad."
"Like hell you're not. If I tried half that crap on Valerie it'd be me sleeping on the couch. It's just like we said before. Things aren't getting any better for you until you treat her right."
~~~
He stared at her like he was never going to speak. It looked to Jane as if he couldn't come to grips with the fact that she was standing on that porch. She was equally shocked that he had been the one to open that door, and her face probably held the same expression his did. "Rob? Are you okay?" she asked, if only to break the silence.
"How'd you find me?" he finally asked. "What are you doing here?"
"I---I guess I was worried when you didn't come back to finish the painting. I mean, it's only been a couple days. It's just that---it's just that my husband was complaining about it. I don't know what he'll do. I just don't want any trouble for you."
"Ain't any trouble. I'll be there tomorrow. Or maybe the next day."
"What about what happened on the highway that night?" she asked. "Did you get in any trouble with that?"
"On the highway? I don't know what you're talkin' about." His eyes rolled back as he stumbled against the door frame. As quickly as he'd lost his footing he regained it. After a faint shudder he looked back at Jane as though nothing had happened.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Jane asked again. "Who lives here?"
"Nobody here but me right now."
"But whose house is this? Who's Richard Creedmoor?" He just stared. "Can I come in? I'm worried about you."
"I'm in the middle of somethin'," he told her.
"That's what I was afraid of. Please, just for a minute."
~~~
"It just seems like everything's falling apart at the same time. I get so damn frustrated. My job, my career, I guess, is in the shitter. I lost out on that job and I'm in the doghouse there. I come home and Jane's shitting on me and Allie treats me like a stranger. Everything pretty much sucks right now," Steve said.
"Maybe you should keep those separate," Eddie suggested. "Work and home. One has nothing to do with the other, right?"
"Except I probably come home from work in a bad mood and act like that asshole you think I am," Steve said.
"Well, that's half the battle. If you know you're doing it, don't do it."
"Oh, okay," Steve agreed sarcastically. "Gee, why didn't I think of that? Hey, you want to go hit some golf balls?"
~~~
"So who's this Richard Creedmoor?" she repeated after she was inside and he'd pushed the door closed.
"How do you know that name?" he demanded. "You been checkin' up on me?"
"No, no," she protested. "I was just worried. I guess I was snooping. I know he owns this house."
No response. No reaction. Nothing except more staring.
"Rob, where is Mr. Creedmoor? Are you in some kind of trouble?" she asked, noting not for the first time how often that word came to mind when she thought about Rob Manteo.
He mumbled something she couldn't understand as he turned and walked through the foyer into an adjoining room. Jane considered walking out the front door and jumping into her car. There was, yes, trouble here. She could feel it. It would be best to go away, but she wasn't ready to do that yet. Instead she followed him into what turned out to be the kitchen, but he was already gone when she got there.
Something was off in this house. If she hadn't been completely sure, what she saw in the kitchen drove the point home. There were dishes in the sink and a few on a small Formica table, all partially covered with food. Even dishes that appeared to be clean weren't put away. The counters were covered with empty mailing cartons and paperwork. It didn't have the look of a room that had been wrecked by an earthquake or even a man having a tantrum. This was far more disturbing. This was the kitchen of somebody who just didn't care. And where was Creedmoor?
She moved into the next room but Manteo wasn't there either. The expansive oak table was strewn with everything one would need to self-administer steroids. There were vials of liquids of various colors with foil seals on top. A shoebox overflowing with tubes of cream occupied a chair. There were syringes and a rubber strap. Bloody tissues littered the floor. There were half-open boxes of pills and capsules.
Thankfully the syringes she could see were still in sterile packing. Maybe he at least knew enough not to mess with dirty needles. It bothered her that some of these pills had made their way to the floor. Based on the research she'd done since Manteo had confessed to being a steroid abuser she knew that these were not cheap materials, and he surely wasn't getting them through any prescription plan. Was he so out of control that money was of no concern? And speaking of that, where was he getting the money to pay for this habit? Certainly not from the meager fees he charged for his work. He's really trying to kill himself, she thought, if this is any indication of what he's taking.
None of these questions were as scary as the one which kept popping back into her mind as she waited for Manteo to reappear. Where was Mr. Creedmoor? Why wasn't there anybody else in the house but Manteo? Surrounded by illegal drugs and paraphernalia, she stood frozen in the dining room. Regardless of who was living there, she was trespassing. Even if she wasn't afraid to go deeper into the house, she had no right to. It wasn't just that. She feared what she might come across if she continued moving forward. Instead she pulled out a chair, careful not to upset the array of chemicals on the table, and waited.
The moaning started just as Jane was thinking strongly about retracing her path through the house and leaving. It was the sound of a man in anguish and it had to be Manteo. Again she thought about leaving but decided against it. She wasn't afraid of him, and it sounded like he needed help.
She tiptoed through a doorway into the living room. The furnishings there were beautiful, or at least had been at one time, but the beige walls were covered with what she could only describe as graffiti. Whoever was responsible was so unskilled that it was difficult to know what had been drawn. Some sections appeared to be crude maps, complete with topographical features. Others were filled with distorted faces that resembled, probably unintentionally, the work of Picasso or Dali.
Another round of moans interrupted her study of the subway car décor in the living room. The sound was coming from upstairs. She walked through the room and was back in the foyer near the front door. As she walked up the stairs toward the moaning a chilling thought crossed her mind. What if it wasn't Manteo? What if it was the owner of the house? It was enough to make her stop on the landing, halfway to the second floor.
Maybe it was her training as a nurse that kicked in as she decided that it didn't matter who it was. Somebody needed help. It was probably Manteo but it didn't matter. She couldn't walk away. After drawing a deep breath to calm her nerves she continued up the steps until she reached the second floor, where she waited for a fresh set of moans to guide her.
~~~
"Why don't you come right out and tell Jane that you're not having an affair?" Eddie asked as Steve helped him load his painting equipment into the trunk of his car. "Nip it in the bud, why don't you?"
"Because she never said I was having one in the first place. If I say I'm not she'll start thinking I am. Once you deny something people start thinking you might actually have done it."
"She already thinks that. Weren't you listening?"
"That's the least of my problems. What about her and the caveman?" Steve asked. "Maybe she should be the one coming to me and telling me she's not having an affair."
"Don't put me on," Eddie said. "Look, it was just a suggestion."
"So what about going out and hitting some balls, or maybe even playing nine holes? Looks like I'll have some free time today. Who knows when Jane and Allie will be back."
Eddie smiled and shook his head. "You're one of a kind, man. One of a kind."
Jane walked up the hallway on plush green carpet toward the sound, stopping at a closed door. The horrible smell that she'd noticed as she came up the stairs filled the air as she moved. It was a stench made familiar from her time at the hospital but it could have been any number of things. She blocked it out, planning to revisit it later. After determining for sure that the sound was coming from the other side of that door, she knocked. "Hello? Do you need help?" There was shuffling but then it was quiet. She twisted the doorknob gently and found that it was unlocked. With no idea what she was going to find in the room, she turned the knob all the way and pushed the door open.
The Creedmoors must have had a little girl. The room was decorated in various shades of pink and orange, and unlike the rest of the house it was in pristine and immaculate condition. The furniture was white and wooden, including a miniature four-poster bed with a net draped gracefully over the top. There was no single theme. It wasn't princesses, fairies or rainbows. It was simply a tastefully done room, lived in by somebody much younger and more feminine than whoever it was that was agonizing on the other side of the bed.
As Jane had expected it turned out to be Manteo himself. He had jammed his still-shirtless body into a corner behind a delicate nightstand where he was hunched over with his arms tucked into his gut. If he was even aware that Jane had entered the room, he didn't show it. When he unleashed another eerie moan Jane wanted to run. She decided she was either going to snap him out of his trance quickly or else bolt from the house, and she wasn't going to give him much time. "Rob?" she said as she stepped closer. "Rob? It's me. Jane. I mean, Mrs. Havelock."
He looked up at her, eyes blinking erratically. "You can't come in here," he finally said. "You ain't supposed to be here."
"I was worried about you. Are you hurt?"
"My head. Something's in my head," he moaned.
"What? What's in your head?"
"A tumor," he growled. "It grows every day. It's from all the shit I take."
"Are you getting treatment? Who told you it's a tumor?"
"I just know. It's from the shit."
"Rob, steroids do horrible things but they don't give you brain tumors. I'm more worried about your liver and your kidneys. You're sick but not in your head."
He groaned again, and clawed at his bald head. When the apparent spasm of pain passed he looked up her. Tears rolled down his cheeks.
"Rob, you need to get to a hospital right away. You're very sick. I'm a nurse, remember? I know a lot about what these do to your body."
"I kept my promise," he answered, his parched lips forming a weak smile.
"Nobody would want you to do this to yourself," she argued. "Nobody." She sat down beside him but kept her distance from his sweaty body. "How can I make you understand that? You think your wife wanted you to kill yourself with steroids?"
"If only I'd done it sooner," he said. "She never got to see it. But now I've got this tumor."
"Look at you," she told him. "If you had cancer you wouldn't look like this. Have you ever seen somebody with brain cancer? With any kind of cancer?"
"It's cancer," he replied. "I'm sure of it."
"You sound so different." The bad Amos and Andy imitation was gone and he was speaking to her the way she'd seem him speak only to Allie. She'd always wondered why he put on the act but that was a question for another day.
"Why did I wait? I was just a scrawny, weak man. She never got to see this."
"Are you taking all those things I saw on the table downstairs?" Jane asked. "There must be thirty different meds."
"Not all of them at the same time."
"What ones? Start from the beginning. Tell me what you took so I can help you."
His face puckered with thought. "I started with 200 of Deca a week, 35 megs of D-bol. A long time ago."
"What's Deca?"
His lips slid at an attempted smile. "I can't remember. I just remember shooting it."
"By megs, do you mean milligrams?" she asked.
He nodded without answering.
"How about D-bol. That's Dianabol, right?"
"Yup. And a lot of Meth. Methyltestosterone. That's where I get my temper," he said, the lips twitching again.
"You mean you stopped the Deca and the D-bol?"
After a struggle he was able to sit up. "You have to switch it up," he said. "Your body gets used to something and doesn't respond. So you mix it up. I even switched between pills and shots. Change is good. Sometimes I'd stack them."
"What does that mean?"
"Lots of different ones at the same time."
"Dear God, Rob. Have you been doing this for five years?" Jane asked.
"I can't remember," he admitted. "Sounds about right."
"I just don't understand this, Rob. I don't even know how you're still alive. What made you think this was what she wanted? How did you even know how to do it?"
"I taught myself. I asked around at the gym. Searched the web."
"If you don't stop you'll be dead in a year. Maybe a lot sooner. But not from cancer. You're still taking them?" He leaned away and pulled up the back of his shorts, exposing a butt cheek. A series of reddened, bloody lumps pocked with needlemarks rose like a mountain range. Pink fluid seeped from one of the needle pricks, which looked to be only minutes old.
"My God," Jane said. "Is that what you meant when you said you were in the middle of something?"
He nodded.
"Why is your face bleeding?" she asked.
"I think I fell," he said.
"Why don't you stop now? You succeeded. Save yourself."
"It's too late. I know I'm dying."
The stench had been wafting into the room ever since she'd come into the bedroom. It wasn't possible to ignore it anymore. It could have been anything. A tray of spoiled food, a pile of musty, rotting clothes. Or something else.
"Rob? Where's Mr. Creedmoor? Did something happen to the family that lives here?"
"Something did."
"What happened?"
"It's a long story," he answered, his head sinking into his hands, which were now shaking. "A lot has happened."
"Rob. Look at me. I'm trying to help you. I'm trying to keep you out of trouble. Will you please give me a straight answer? Where's Mr. Creedmoor?"
"Mr. Creedmoor? Creedmoor's gone," he said.
"If you don't want my help then I have to go," she said as she scrambled to her feet. Without looking back she left the room. The smell seemed stronger as she approached the stairway but she thought she might be imagining it. She held tightly onto the banister while making her way down and then out the front door where her car waited. A few seconds later she was speeding up the driveway, between the pillars and onto the road.
~~~
"It was so weird," Jane told Kristie as she wiped her eyes with her shirt. "I'm completely confused. There are so many things I saw today that I don't understand." She spent the next few minutes explaining everything that had happened. "I don't exactly know who lives there, but Rob's walking around like he owns the place."
"Just stay out of it, Jane. Really."
"There were enough steroids in there, right on the table, to pump somebody up for years. And that wasn't the only place I saw them."
"Is he selling them, maybe?"
"I didn't get that impression. Kristie, he's insane. I told you what he told me about his wife and daughter, right?"
"Wasn't it a car crash?"
"He keeps saying he takes the steroids for her. He says he promised her," Jane explained.
"Promised her what?"
"I'm not exactly sure," Jane admitted. "I guess he told her he'd bulk up. Something like that. It's just crazy. And I have no idea what's going on in that house. What do I do? And the place smells so horrible."
"Like there's a few bodies lying around or something? Maybe you should call the police," Kristie said.
"I know. I was thinking the same thing. Something bad is going on in that house. Something really bad. It looks like an insane person lives there. An insane person does live there. Today, at least."
"You should call the police. Wouldn't it make you feel better?"
"What would I say? Do you just call 911? I don't know who---what would I even say? Maybe the only trespasser was me."
"That doesn't make sense. What about the owner of the house? Where was he?" Kristie asked. "Maybe you could say that."
"At first I thought he was just working there. But today it looked like Rob's been camped out in there for a while. The part that scares me the most is Creedmoor. Where is he, and what does Rob have to do with it?"
"You really need to call the police," Kristie repeated.
"I wish I could talk to Steve about it."
"But you two aren't talking," Kristie pointed out. "Maybe you should be."
"The scariest part is that he spent so much time with Allie. You were right. I can't believe I let her in the same room with him. He's completely crazy. I just don't want anything to do with him anymore. What if he comes back?"
"Let's worry about the police first. Somebody could be in danger. Or worse," Kristie said firmly.
It took five minutes on the internet to determine that the house was in Chesilhurst Township and ten more to learn that Chesilhurst was served by the Hammonton Police Department. It didn't feel like an emergency so Jane dialed the regular number after taking the phone outside where Allie couldn't hear. She had expected to be connected with a busy detective gulping coffee at his desk, just like on television, but when she finally reached somebody who wanted details it sounded more like a secretary. Jane explained what had happened as briefly as possible, which took much longer than she expected.
"All right, Mrs. Havelock. I'll file a report on this. I just need some details about yourself. And I'll need some contact information."
~~~
Jane was still out back when the phone rang a few minutes later. "Mrs. Havelock?" a voice asked when she answered.
"Yes it is," she replied.
"This is Sergeant Duane Rockingham from the Hammonton Police Department. I understand that you filed a complaint just a few minutes ago about Richard Creedmoor."
"Well, not exactly a complaint," Jane replied. "I just thought I should tell somebody about what I saw." She repeated the entire story, this time telling it quicker.
"621 Falling Run Road?" he asked. "That's out in Chesilhurst."
"Yes."
"And how do you know Mr. Creedmoor?" asked Rockingham.
"Well, I don't, actually. You see, I followed my friend there and I looked it up later," Jane said. "It was this same friend that was there today. But I didn't see anybody else there. I know this sounds crazy."
"What's your friend's name, Mrs. Havelock?"
"I suppose you need that too," Jane answered after hesitating. "You see, he's not really my friend. He did some work around the house for us. I thought---"
"His name, please," interrupted the sergeant. "All I need is his name."
"It's Rob Manteo," Jane said. "I guess it might be Robert."
"And you're concerned that Robert Manteo is in the house but none of the Creedmoors are there?"
"That's right."
"But you don't know the Creedmoors?"
"No," Jane conceded. "I know it doesn't make a whole lot of sense. I guess I jumped to conclusions."
"I don't understand why you called us but since you did, I'll send a car out there to have a look around. I know where it is. If I have any questions for you I'll get back to you." The line clicked dead before she could answer.
~~~
Jane's cell phone rang two hours later when she was on her way home with Allie. She glanced at the screen, saw it was the Hammonton Police and punched the button to answer. "My men didn't find anything out of order at the house," Sergeant Rockingham told her without bothering to say hello. "Mr. Creedmoor answered the door and told them everything was fine. There was no trace of this Manteo fellow."
"Creedmoor was there?" Jane asked.
"Yes he was," the Sergeant told her. "His name is underlined in the report, which means he showed ID. I can't account for your story but it sounds like everything is okay out there."
Jane didn't know what to say. Based on everything she'd seen everything was definitely not okay in that house, but second-guessing the police seemed like a bad idea. Instead, she thanked him for calling back. He promised they'd keep an eye on the house and that he would get in touch with her if anything strange turned up. "You can count on it, as a matter of fact."
There wasn't much conversation that evening after Jane and Allie returned after eating at the Shoreway Diner on route 9. Steve hovered around, always looking like he had something important to say, but he never did say anything. Surprisingly, that came as a relief to Jane. She wasn't ready for any kind of reconciliation and she certainly had no use for the insincere expression of sorrow that he'd eventually deliver. Exhausted after a few fitful evenings on the couch, she went back to sleeping in the bedroom that night but it was as frosty as ever.
~~~
The next morning was a rare Monday off for her. She pretended to be asleep until Steve was showered, dressed and had left for the office but she popped out of bed as soon as she heard his car pull away. It was barely after sunup but she had plenty that she wanted to do before it was time to wake Allie for preschool. After setting up the coffee maker she retrieved her laptop and booted up at the dining room table. This Mike Albemarle person had done enough teasing and leading her on. It was time for him to start supplying some answers, and if he didn't she'd find somebody who would.
It didn't take long after she sat down with her coffee before the plan went awry. The first disappointment had been that there was no answer to the message she'd sent to Albemarle the previous morning. Next, there was nothing new at all from him. Finally, and the most damning, was his complete disappearance from Facebook. She searched every way she could think of but he had vanished. He never existed as far as Facebook was concerned. All she had left were the cryptic messages he'd sent. Most importantly, the pictures were gone. It almost felt like she'd imagined the whole thing.
But she hadn't. It had been real and she wasn't going to let it go. Albemarle had left enough clues that she was sure there had to be a way to find out for sure what had happened. But how? She glanced at the clock. A lot of time had passed while she'd searched. There was still almost an entire pot of coffee left but it was time to wake up Allie. It would have to wait. Just as well, she knew. She didn't even know where to start.
~~~
Steve had been at his desk for no more than a minute that morning when the phone rang. "Mr. Havelock?" a deep voice said without any explanation as to whose it was. "Please report to Mr. Ramos's office."
"Excuse me? Who is this?" Steve demanded.
"Mr. Ramos is waiting," the voice told him before hanging up.
"What the hell?" Steve said aloud as he stared at the receiver, which now dangled from his thumb and forefinger. "This doesn't sound good."
When he walked out of the office he saw a beefy security guard standing a few feet away from his door. "How's it going?" Steve asked. It sounded more like a greeting than a question. The guard nodded at him without a word.
He considered stopping to grab a cup of coffee on the way until he saw another security guard watching from between two columns of filing cabinets near the kitchen. He could go without coffee, he decided. Another guard was posted near Ramos's office, this one turned in another direction but obviously aware of who was approaching. Steve ignored him and slipped through the door, where Ramos was waiting behind his desk.
"Are you firing me?" he asked immediately. "Look, I've seen enough layoffs and firings that I know what's going on. I know why there are rent-a-cops all over the place. Is my office sealed yet?"
"Have a seat," Ramos ordered, nodding at something or somebody outside the door as he spoke. Steve sat.
"Is this about the problem with Napagliptin? I already took my lumps for that."
"No, it's not about that," Ramos answered. "I was willing to forget about that."
"Then what?"
Ramos sighed. "We saw your handiwork on the UNIX, Steve. We know what you did. You didn't even try to cover your tracks. Did you want to get caught? Are you getting fired on purpose?"
Steve stared, perplexed. "What handiwork? I have no idea what you're talking about! Is this something new?"
"Be aware that I'm recording this meeting so there are no misunderstandings," Ramos said, gesturing at the computer microphone that was velcroed to the top of his monitor. "You understand that, right?"
"What's going on here?" Steve demanded.
"So I'm going to lay it all out right here, right on the record. Nice and slow, for posterity."
"Please do."
"Yesterday afternoon Cindy received a call from the statistician on the Maxor team. She did some work for them a few months ago and it's time for the three month safety update. So of course she needed to get into her programs, write a few new ones, you know the drill."
"Sure. But what's that got to do with me?" Steve asked. "I never worked on Maxor."
Ramos tore the velcroed microphone with a loud rip from where it rested and pulled on the cord until there was enough slack to place it on the table, closer to Steve. "No, you never had anything do to with it. Not that it matters." He picked up a green folder and flipped through some papers. "She found that at least eleven of her programs were tampered with. And 'tampered' is an understatement. They were wrecked."
"And you're accusing me? I don't even know where to find the Maxor stuff."
Ramos pulled a computer printout from the folder after another nod at the doorway. He scanned the page for a moment before flipping it across the desk at Steve. "Here's a copy of one of the programs. In most cases the original contents of the files are deleted and there's nothing there except your comment. Does the phrase 'Do not fuck with me you stinking bitch' ring any bells?" He pulled out another. "How about 'Watch your back'?" Again he threw the page in Steve's direction. "Here's my favorite. 'Hey! You! Get off of my job!' Do I need to go on? I wasn't planning on reading all eleven of these into the record."
Steve picked up one of the pages and glanced at it. "You think I did this?"
"Are you saying you didn't?" Ramos answered, glancing at the microphone.
"Of course not! Why would I do it?"
"Are you kidding? Why wouldn't you? She just beat you out for a job that you had no business losing out on. Somebody who worked for you. And she did it by fixing your programs and pulling your chestnuts out of the fire. I know you weren't happy about that."
"She sure fixed them fast," Steve said sarcastically. "I guess it was a coincidence that she knew where to look. But she gets the benefit of the doubt, unlike me. I had nothing to do with this!"
"You weren't even careful about it," Ramos said as he flipped through the file again. "You could at least have asked your buddy in IT how to hide what you did. By the way, he's out the door today. You cost him his job, too." He found what he was looking for, pulled two sheets out and placed them on the desk. Steve reached for them without a word.
One of the guards knocked on the open door before walking in with Steve's red backpack dangling from a hand. "We thought he could take this. It was never opened since he got here."
"Thanks," Ramos told him. "Just put it in the corner." The guard looked Steve up and down before leaning the pack against the wall and walking back out.
"Check those out. Those are two directory listings," Ramos said after the security guard left. He was speaking more to the microphone than to Steve. "One from two o'clock Friday afternoon and the other from four o'clock. Two hours later. Just your luck. They were doing an emergency backup when you did this. We'd have found you out anyway but that made it a lot easier."
"If you're claiming that I damaged these files Friday afternoon, I'm pretty sure I had meetings. I can prove I was nowhere near a computer."
"Not between two and four you didn't. We checked. Your calendar was wide open. Now, take a look at the column in those directories labeled 'last edited by.' What do you see in the earlier ones and what do you see in the later ones?"
"I didn't do it," Steve said without bothering to look at the printouts. "Somebody faked it. Probably Cindy. She's been scheming against me all along. I had nothing to do with it."
"Just for the record, Steve. That's your login ID in that column, is it not?"
"Looks like it. But I didn't do it. Somebody faked it."
"Nobody except the system guys could have done this without your password. Why would they do it?"
"Why would I do it?"
"Does anybody else around here know your password? If somebody does I'll do you the courtesy of checking them out."
Steve looked down at his lap with a scowl. "No. Nobody."
"Not even your IT gofer?"
"No. I doubt he would've needed it anyway. At least he said he didn't."
"True," Ramos agreed. "So, again, for the record, all eleven files had the same kind of one sentence message in them. All eleven last edited by you Friday afternoon."
"Javier," Steve said, "I didn't do it. I'm not stupid. Even if I wanted to I know I'd get caught. Can't you see that? Maybe you think I'm an asshole but do you think I'm stupid?"
"Well, this is your chance to convince me. Do you have an explanation for all this? How did your name get on every damaged file?"
"How the hell should I know how it happened?" Steve answered. "Why should I have to explain it? Why don't you ask the morons in IT who let it happen under their noses? I'm sure it can be faked. All I know is I didn't have anything to do with it."
"The facts say different," Ramos said calmly.
"You're making a big mistake. I didn't do this," Steve insisted.
Ramos scooped up the pages and jammed them back into the folder, which he slid back into his desk. After slamming the drawer closed he looked Steve directly in the eye. "You have an appointment in HR." With that he nodded toward the door. Two guards entered the room to be Steve's escort. "Don't forget your backpack," one of the guards said as Steve walked out the door behind the other.
~~~
"Is Daddy home?" Allie asked that afternoon as they pulled into the driveway behind Steve's car.
"I guess he is," Jane answered. "I wonder what's going on."
"Maybe Uncle Rob is here, too." Allie said hopefully.
"I don't think so. I don't see his truck. Come on. Let's go see why Daddy's home."
Steve was standing in front of the house when Jane closed the rear door of the car after freeing Allie from her seat. There had to be a good reason if Steve had left work early, which he obviously had. She wondered if it could possibly have something to do with Manteo or the Creedmoors. She hoped not. The last thing she wanted to do was explain everything she knew about it, and how she had come to know it.
Allie bounced up the steps to her father but her grin was short-lived. "Go ahead inside, Allie," Steve told her when she reached the top step. By the time she'd worked the door open and gone inside Jane was there.
"Why are you here?" she asked. The sound of her own monotone voice reminded her that she was still livid at her husband for so many different reasons.
"I got fired this morning. I got fucking fired! Escorted out of the building and everything. I felt like a criminal."
"Oh, boy." She took a deep breath and blew it right back out as she thought it over. "Not suspended? Just plain fired? I thought it was all smoothed over."
"That bitch is at it again. She fucking did it to me again. Supposedly a bunch of her programs got trashed and they accused me. She did it herself and found a way to put my name on the files. I just know it. And all those dopes fall for it every time! I'm so mad I could kill her right now. I'm not kidding."
"What are we going to do?" Jane asked. She saw Allie's face peering through a window at them. She was ready for lunch, Jane knew. "I guess you better start looking for a new job. We can't live on my salary for very long."
He glared at her. "That's it? That's all you have to say? What about me? I've been through hell and back and it happened again today! Don't you even give a shit anymore?"
"I have to go feed Allie," she told him, hoping he'd get out of the way. He didn't.
"What's going on, Jane? I know I'm not perfect but I don't deserve this. You've been dogging me for weeks now. Can't you even pretend you feel bad for me?"
"I'm just tired, I guess," Jane answered. "You're either going to have to let me by or go make her some lunch yourself."
~~~
Jane and Allie settled into their weekday afternoon routines, but of course Steve didn't have one. He seemed to know to keep his distance from Jane but didn't know where to go. He spent an hour hauling in cardboard crates of his personal office items, the ones that the security guards had packed for him. After they were stacked neatly in the foyer on the ceramic tile that Manteo had laid, he sat on one and leaned back into the wall.
"They didn't give me all my files," Steve said when Jane was passing through. "Not all of them. I understand they can't give me the work stuff but I had a lot of personal shit in there. I wonder if I can still get them?"
"I guess we don't know how any of this works," Jane said. "You could always ask."
"But I'm sure they'll look anything over before they pass it to me. They sure as hell won't give me the file I want."
"What's in it?"
He licked his lips and scratched the back of his neck. "Remember that Narvatek mess a few years ago? The time when we sent a lot of bad tables and listings down to the FDA with the report? We ended up blaming it on the software vendor. They got into a shitload of trouble. Better them than me."
"Yeah, I remember. It was a pretty big deal. It lasted for months."
"It sure did. A lot of it was my fault. I admit it. But I think Cindy's on the hook for some of the errors, too. I took the brunt of the shit because she worked for me and it was my responsibility."
"All this is in your file?"
"Pretty much," Steve answered. "I knew this was big. As soon as it started I thought I might have to protect myself so I kept a lot of emails, notes from phone calls, QC paperwork with signatures. Everything that had anything to do with the project. It was about six inches thick. I never told anybody about it. You know me. I always want to keep a paper trail of everything."
"And you thought you might be able to use some of it against Cindy?"
"I do now. Not all of it. I could have gone through it to see what I could dig up. But it's too late now," he lamented. "I'll never see that file. If only I'd known, I could have slipped it out beforehand."
"I think you should just drop the whole thing," Jane said. "Even if you found something it wouldn't get your job back."
"But she might end up out on the street where she belongs. That would be bigger to me than any job in the world."
"I think you should just concentrate on finding another job. Losing a job for her doesn't do us any good." Knowing he would never concede the point, she walked back into the living room and worked on cleaning up Allie's toys.
"I wish you'd stop worrying about your secret files and start looking for a job," Jane told Steve two nights later after he had again brought it up. "I mean, I'd like to see her get what's coming to her too, if she really did this. But we don't exactly have a giant nest egg to fall back on. This could really hurt us." Careful not to look him in the eye, she grabbed another plate and rinsed ketchup from it before sliding it into the dishwasher rack.
"Relax. Can't you give me a little credit once in a while?" he fired back. "I'm calling a headhunter in the morning." He brought the rest of the dishes from the table and dropped them into the sink. "He's the guy who emailed me practically every week for the past five years. We'll get something going."
"I hope so. I'm kind of worried," she admitted.
"There's nothing to worry about. I'm on it. But see, I'm not giving up on nailing Cindy," he explained. "It's all I think about. I went through everything I have here this morning. Nada. There wasn't anything I could use. That's why I'm so pissed about leaving that stuff at work. If only I'd known."
She wanted to slap him and tell him to knock it off. This wasn't some silly movie where he was going to stumble across an incriminating memo or photograph in some mysterious file. Real life didn't work that way. Regardless of how it had come about, and Jane had no idea if Cindy had actually done the things Steve accused her of, the job was hers and it was going to stay that way. But now wasn't the time for that. "I'm just worried," she said again. "We can't go on for very long if it's just my paycheck coming in."
"Don't forget, they gave me six weeks of severance pay," he reminded her. "That's like vacation time. I may as well take advantage of it."
"That's true, I guess. But you might have to pick up where Rob left off around here."
"You don't think he's coming back?"
Jane had given this a lot of thought. Not only did she think he wasn't coming back, she was going to do everything in her power to make sure he didn't. True, she'd grown to like the man, but there was just too much about him she didn't understand. It just wasn't smart to have him around the house, especially with Allie there. Eventually something would go badly. Not only that, the sooner she forgot about him the sooner she'd stop recalling the image of the lumpy, blood-weeping landscape on his butt that she couldn't seem to shake.
"I have a feeling we've seen the last of him," she said without elaborating. Steve had no idea how much she knew about Manteo and she thought it was best to keep it that way.
"I can take over for the caveman. The first thing I'll do is paint the extra bedroom," Steve said. "You'll have to tell me what color you want it since he stole the paint."
~~~
Steve's plans for heading out to the driving range or going out for a few beers that evening were foiled when none of his friends could make it. Instead, he took a shower, watched some baseball and went to bed early. After a bath and bedtime for Allie, Jane found herself with nothing to do. She looked in vain for Mike Albemarle on Facebook and spent a few minutes exchanging wall posts with friends before shutting down.
There was a lot going on and she didn't want to slow Steve's job search down, but finding out for sure about what Albemarle had told her wasn't something she was prepared to give up on. She was willing to take chances to find out the truth but there weren't many places to look for it. She'd already examined his phone and computer and found no traces of an affair. Maybe he'd inadvertently kept something that would give her a clue, even if it was an accident. If so, the best place she could think of to look was in his desk in the den. Since he was up in bed, and she'd hear him on the stairs if he came back down, it was as good a time as any to check it out.
The search didn't take very long and it wasn't very productive. For somebody who wasn't particularly neat Steve kept his desk somewhat orderly, something that Jane, of course, already knew. The top two drawers contained nothing but a few pens and some office supplies. The middle drawer held an old radio and some computer cables.
The bottom drawer was crammed with files. It was where all the important household information was kept and she'd been in that drawer a thousand times. There were files for the mortgage, insurance policies, bank statements, auto maintenance records and countless other bundles of paper documenting the minutiae of the lives of a small suburban family. She thumbed through these files without bothering to pull them out to check their contents because she already knew what was in them.
At the back was a file that she'd never noticed before. Labeled "Narvatek," it presumably was the one that Steve had checked earlier that day. Knowing that Narvatek was the project that had gone so badly a few years earlier, and that Cindy had been heavily involved, she pulled it out and closed the drawer before plopping herself onto the loveseat behind the desk. Over three inches thick, the file appeared to contain more computer printouts than anything else. Even without leafing through it she could see that there were newspaper clippings mixed in. It was unlikely that there would be anything about a girlfriend in there, but there was only one way to be sure.
She looked at the clock, which occupied a space on the wall near the gash caused by Steve's hammer toss. Did she feel like tearing the file apart at this time of day? No, she decided. It was after ten and she'd have to be up early the next morning. Steve wouldn't miss the file if she held onto it. He'd said himself that he'd already checked it. It could wait until the next day. She carried the file into the kitchen where she slipped it into her day bag. It would be something to do during her break at work.
~~~
Steve didn't like it when Jane poked at him until he got out of bed the next morning and he made no secret of it. Jane was already worried that to him, the next six weeks were supposed to be a time for sleeping late, playing golf, and whenever there was nothing else to do, looking for a job. Feeding, dressing and transporting his daughter around town wasn't on his list of activities, at least not until Jane had put it there the night before.
"You can just give her cereal," she said as she packed up to leave for work. "Don't worry about toast or anything." He mumbled something as he ransacked the cabinets. "The coffee's in the pantry, bottom shelf," she told him.
"Thanks," he said after extricating the can.
"You know where the preschool is, right? You have to walk all the way inside with her. Make sure they see you or they won't let you pick her up."
"What, I'm picking her up too?"
"Yeah, do you mind?"
"No, I guess not. I might go get some paint for the spare bedroom, too. I'll just bring her with me."
"Are you calling the headhunter today?" Jane asked.
"Yeah, something like that," he said, rolling his eyes.
"Good luck," she told him from across the kitchen near the door. "See you later." She slipped outside without waiting for an answer.
~~~
"So we're a one income family," Jane told Kristie as they sat in the break room later that morning after telling her how Steve had been fired. "Just like that."
"I can't believe it," Kristie said. "He was high up in management, wasn't he?"
"More like the middle."
"I wouldn't lose any sleep over it," Kristie said. "Steve's smart. He'll find something fast."
"I'm sure he will, once he starts looking. He doesn't seem to be in much of a hurry. At least it'll give me a break with some of the stuff around the house. He's taking Allie to school and picking her up today. After he wakes her up and makes breakfast."
"How nice! You know what they say about fathers and their daughters. I'll bet they'll turn into best friends. They never really had a chance to hang out together."
"I doubt it," Jane said. "Steve just isn't like that. Allie will never be more than a chore to him. It's kind of sad to watch. Allie's getting to be old enough to see what's going on."
"Maybe it'll turn out better than that," Kristie said hopefully.
"He doesn't know it yet but he's going to be watching her for part of the afternoon, too," Jane said. "I have something I want to do."
"Ooh, mysterious!" Kristie crooned.
"It's no big deal. I just want to spend a few hours on the computer trying to figure out what happened out at that house this weekend," Jane explained. "The Creedmoor place. I'm still worried that Rob might be up to something. Maybe I can find something about the Creedmoors. Or about Rob." She shrugged. "It didn't work last time but I'll try again."
"What were you doing, Googling? I have something better. Google on steroids."
"Don't say steroids, please," Jane said with a smirk. "It brings back an unpleasant memory. Rob's butt."
"What---"
"Don't ask. It's not what you think."
"I hope not. Anyway, I have this special account I log onto when I do research for my grad classes." Jane knew Kristie was working on a Masters degree in Medical Information Systems at Stockton State College in her free time, although they didn't talk about it much. "It's called NetReach. It's connected to a lot of databases and periodicals that you can't get to from Google. You can log onto it from the media center downstairs. I'll give you my password. You'll find more stuff than you ever wanted to know."
~~~
For all its bells and whistles, NetReach worked a lot like Google. That was a good thing as far as Jane was concerned because she didn't have to spend any time learning how to use it. For the first few minutes after logging in she dutifully typed in various combinations of keywords like 'Robert,' Manteo,' 'handyman,' 'sprinkler systems' and everything else she could think of. She knew Manteo had told her the name of his daughter but she couldn't recall it. The searches ran fast enough, but paging through the results was time consuming and unproductive. Who knew that Manteo was such a common name? After she'd initiated about a dozen searches she was discouraged because she was coming up with nothing. An hour later she concluded that Robert Manteo didn't exist.
Steve was probably waiting impatiently at home. She probably shouldn't push her luck by wasting any more time. Then she thought of Richard Creedmoor. She had an address for him. Maybe that would help and something would turn up. Part of the mission was to find out everything she could about whatever it was that was going on at that house. Steve could wait a few more minutes.
NetReach crunched for a few seconds on 'Creedmoor 621 Falling Run Road' before returning several screens of results. Halfway down the screen was one that instantly piqued her interest. It was an article from The Hammonton Bulletin. The title of the article gave her pause because it somehow sounded familiar. Then, as she clicked the icon to see the complete article, she remembered why.
Local Woman, Daughter Suffer Serious Injuries in Icy Maine Crash
-- By John Burgaw, Bulletin Staff Writer, Posted November 17, 2005.
A Chesilhurst woman and her daughter were seriously injured Wednesday in a one-vehicle crash on Route 4, also known as Narragansett St., about three miles Southwest of Gorham, Maine, the Maine State Patrol has reported.
Sara Creedmoor, 4, was a passenger in a sport utility vehicle driven by her mother, Jessica Creedmoor, 29. The driver and passenger were removed from the car at the site of the 11:36 a.m. crash and taken to the Medical Center at the University of Southern Maine at Gorham, where they remain in the intensive care unit. Details of the injuries were not released. Jessica Creedmoor is the wife of Richard Creedmoor of 621 Falling Run Road in Chesilhurst.
The accident was one of several reported in Wednesday's snowstorm that dumped five to six inches of snow on Gorham and surrounding areas. A witness in another vehicle reported that the vehicle was traveling at an excessive rate of speed given the dangerous conditions when it went out of control and off the right side of the road, where it struck a tree and rolled onto its side.
Jane knew this wasn't her first time hearing this story. The details didn't quite match up but she vividly remembered how Manteo had told her that his wife and daughter had been killed in a traffic accident. She recalled him saying that it had happened somewhere up north. She had taken that to mean somewhere in northern New Jersey, but perhaps he'd meant Maine. The clincher was the daughter's name. Jane remembered as soon as she read it that Manteo had told her that his daughter's name had been Sara. There was no doubt in her mind about that. Now, as she stared at the words on the screen, she was more afraid than ever about what she'd seen at the Creedmoor house. Her thoughts went back to the eerie scene in that room in the Creedmoor house where she'd finally caught up with Manteo. Had that been Sara's room? Had Manteo done something with Richard Creedmoor and then assumed his personal history?
If that was the case, where were the wife and daughter? Or maybe they hadn't survived the car wreck. They were in ICU the next day, after all. If they hadn't lived, then the pattern of events in Creedmoor's life fit Manteo's fantasy even more closely.
If it hadn't been pushing three o'clock she'd have stayed to find out, but she knew she'd be in enough trouble with Steve already so she reluctantly packed up and left the hospital. In the car on the way home she considered calling Sergeant Rockingham again, to tell him what she'd discovered. After thinking it through she realized that if it mattered, he was most likely already aware of it. The only new element was that it looked like Rob Manteo was pretending to live the life of Richard Creedmoor, whatever that meant. That might be twisted but it wasn't a crime. Rockingham had sent a car out to the house and confirmed that Creedmoor was alive and nothing was amiss. So the only parts of the story Jane couldn't explain were Manteo's fantasy life, and of course his presence in the Creedmoor house. It wasn't enough to take to the police.
It's not just that, she told herself as she waited at the light at route 9, the one she seemed to spend half her waking hours at. What does it have to do with me? Nothing, that's what. If Manteo is so dangerous then what am I doing poking around looking for problems? He was out of her life now, and that was turning out to be a good thing. The last thing she wanted to do was bring him back in.
~~~
As expected, Steve was grumpy about the domestic responsibility he'd shouldered that day. Jane tried to listen to his griping, but her mind was firmly focused on the Creedmoor crash in Maine. Suspicion that Manteo had done something horrible was already giving way to skepticism. It just didn't make a lot of sense. Why would he do it? And really, if he had, was he bright enough to keep it a secret?
"Hello! Did you hear a word I said?" Steve was yelling at her.
"Uh, no," Jane answered. "I was thinking about something at work."
"I was saying that tomorrow I can't do all this," he repeated. "I need time to look for a job, remember?"
"All you did was drive her to school," she said. "You had the rest of the day to yourself. Did you even call anybody?"
"Get off my back. I can't concentrate on it when I know I have to be going back and forth all day driving her around. I know what I'm doing. With my experience I'll get hired in two seconds once I'm on the market. That's how the pharmaceutical industry works. But it takes time to get it started."
"I need tomorrow afternoon," she told him. She was already thinking about another NetReach session. "I already committed. After that I'll take over the driving again. I promise."
He walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a pack of saltines without answering. After jamming several into his mouth he chewed slowly. Jane wondered if he was about to explode, but he didn't. "I was thinking about getting some of the guys together and going on an overnighter this weekend," he finally said. "I could use a quick trip. I really need to get away. Especially with all this extra stuff I'm doing around here all day."
"An overnighter? Or are you meeting your girlfriend again?" Jane heard herself asking. Darn it, she thought immediately. The plan had been to hold back from revealing what she knew. Not yet.
He appeared to choke on the crackers. "What?" he said, pasty wet crumbs flying from his mouth. "What the fuck did you just say?"
"I know all about it," she said, exaggerating.
"Know all about what?" he demanded. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Steve, I saw pictures of you with her in Atlantic City."
He stared. His mouth dropped open again. "Pictures of me with who? What are you talking about?" he asked again. "You're saying I'm cheating on you? Where the fuck did this come from?"
"You tell me," Jane replied.
"It's bullshit. Let me see the pictures. I think you're making shit up. Did one of your bitch friends put you up to this? Let's see the pictures."
"Well, I don't exactly have them now, but I saw them," she said.
"Oh," he bellowed sarcastically. "So much for 'having' pictures. Who gave them to you?"
"Somebody on Facebook. And I never said I had them. I said I've seen them."
"Who was it?"
"I don't exactly know," she admitted. "But I saw the pictures. I don't care where they came from. It was somebody using a made-up name. I think it was one of your friends."
"What?" he sputtered. "One of my friends? Some friend. Which one of them would make this up and go behind my back? And you believe it?"
"Pictures don't lie," she said calmly.
"You're serious about this? Somebody you don't know feeds you this bullshit and you gobble it right up? What happened to trust?" When she didn't answer he continued. "This changes things. You've got a lot of nerve coming up with this shit. I've put up with a lot of crap from you lately but this is too much."
"It's okay, Steve," she finally said. "It's not the end of the world. I'm just worried about Allie. That's the only thing for me."
"So some mystery person sends you some pictures over the internet, says they're me with a chick, and you fall for it? Just like that?"
"I know what I saw," she said simply.
He scowled at her and threw up his hands. "Fuck this," he said before stomping out of the room.
He was back thirty seconds later. "Jane, whatever you saw, this isn't true. It just isn't. How can I prove it to you? I can't prove a negative."
"Let's talk about it later," she said. "I don't want Allie to hear anything."
"Anything like what? Do you want a divorce?"
"I don't know. That might be too much for Allie to handle."
"Except for that you'd want a divorce?" He shook his head and raged out of the room even more loudly than he had the first time.
At least it's out in the open, she told herself. That's got to be worth something.
The next morning was a repeat from the day before except that for Jane it began with a trek up the stairs from the living room couch and into the shower. Steve stirred while she was putting her makeup, on but didn't get out of bed. Jane guessed that he didn't want a confrontation any more than she did. Although she wasn't completely certain that he would remember to take Allie to school, or even get out of bed in time, she gave in to the temptation for a quiet exit and didn't wake him up. Allie might miss a day of preschool, but that wasn't something that would ever matter much. When she left for work her husband and daughter were both still in their beds.
~~~
"I'm shocked," Eddie said when Steve dialed his number later that morning. "It's not even nine o'clock and you're awake. You got a job interview or something?"
"No, I just couldn't sleep. Goddamned Allie was clanging around looking for something to eat. Jane's already gone."
"So what's on the schedule?"
"Nothing much. I think I was supposed to take her to school but I already missed that. Oh well."
"You can kiss college goodbye," Eddie joked. "She'll never get in now."
"I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor," Steve said.
"Sure," Eddie replied. "What do you need?"
"I hope you can do it. I left some real important personal stuff in my office," Steve began. "I know it's a long shot but I thought maybe you could swing by there and if it's open, grab a file for me."
"Whoa," Eddie said. "That's a heavy request. I'm sure it's locked up."
"Maybe it isn't. Could you check?"
"I guess I can work it in. It's a fifteen minute walk across the campus, though. It'll be a while before I can get to it," Eddie warned him.
"Can you do it today?" Steve asked. "I'm afraid they'll trash it or shred it soon, if they haven't already."
"You know, they're supposed to give you your personal stuff. Why don't you just call HR and ask for it?"
"Well, let's put it this way," Steve answered. "They might take a look at it and decide it isn't so personal and not give it to me. That may be why they didn't give it to me in the first place."
Eddie laughed. "Don't say another word. You're just dying to get in as much trouble as possible, aren't you?"
"It's in the file cabinet by the window, top drawer. A file labeled Narvatek."
"Why am I not surprised?" Eddie asked. "What do you want that for? I'd think you'd want to forget it. That project turned out to be a major fuckfest for you."
"Yeah, but Cindy was right there with me. I was thinking---"
"Don't even say it. I know where you're going with this. Man, give it up. She won. You lost. You're just making everything worse."
"That's easy for you to say," Steve said. "You have a job. Come on. I need your help on this."
"Too bad you didn't keep that file at home."
"I have one at home, too, but all the good stuff was in the one at work."
The line was silent, followed by a long sigh from Eddie. More silence. "I'll walk through and see what your office looks like. Then I'll call you back. That's it. No promises. I'm not risking my own job by smuggling out your file unless the coast is one hundred percent clear. And leave me out of the rest of it. I'm already doing a lot. Okay?"
"Okay," Steve agreed. "Just call me back when you know something and we can work it out from there. Maybe I'll have this stuff by the end of the day, right?"
"I wouldn't count on it but we can always try."
~~~
"What are you doing here?" Kristie asked when she looked up from the paperwork she was starting her workday with. "You're off today."
"I know," Jane said, shrugging. "I'm here on my own time. I have more research I wanted to do."
"Why are you wearing your scrubs if you're not working?"
"If Steve thinks I have to work I don't have to do any explaining. Otherwise he'd complain about getting stuck around the house. Not that he'd go anywhere, anyway. Can I use NetReach again today?"
"Of course. You still have the password, right?"
"Did I tell you what I found yesterday? Of course I didn't. When could I have?" She described the article about the Maine car crash. "You were right. This NetReach thing is exactly what I needed. I couldn't believe how much it turned up. Are you sure you don't mind if I use it again?"
"Knock yourself out. Are you going down there right now?"
"Yeah. Today I want to find out what happened to the Creedmoors. I have a feeling nobody survived that accident but I want to know for sure."
"Jane, I have to ask. What difference does it make? You don't even know the Creedmoors. Why do you care?"
"After being in that house I just have to find out what happened. And if something happened to Richard Creedmoor, isn't it my responsibility as a nurse to, you know, make sure he's okay and all?"
"No, it isn't. Absolutely not. That's for the police. You're starting to worry me. Your handyman is gone. Why can't you just leave it alone? Get back to your own life."
"What life?" Jane asked. "My whole life is falling apart."
"And this is going to help?"
"I'm just curious," Jane insisted. "Maybe it's nothing more than that. And I'm still worried about what Rob might have done."
"But that's just what I'm talking about. Who cares? You don't even know him. To you he's no different than anybody else that might have committed a crime."
"I know," Jane said. "It'll just be this one last time."
"Keep snooping if you have to, but please, think hard before you do anything. You've never come right out and said it but I know what you're afraid of. You think Manteo killed Creedmoor. And if you think that, why do you want to get involved?"
"Who says I want to get involved? I just want to know what happened." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "I'm not even sure that Creedmoor's dead. The cops told me he's alive and well."
"But I know you," Kristie whispered back. "You don't believe that."
"It's a little sketchy. I think that whoever Sergeant Rockingham sent to knock on that door didn't know Creedmoor from anybody else. How would he know who it was that answered the door? Rockingham said they asked for ID, but it's Creedmoor's house. How hard could that have been to find? So yeah, I have my doubts."
"All the more reason for you to stay out of it. Just thank your lucky stars that nothing happened while he was in your place. He's crazy from all the steroids he took and he thinks he's dying. Who knows what he might do? Why are you trying so hard to get mixed up with him?"
"I know, Kristie," Jane said. "Really, I know. I think part of it is that I feel sorry for him. And there's got to be a connection between Creedmoor and Rob. He couldn't have picked that house randomly."
~~~
"What's up? It's Eddie," Steve heard after he picked up the phone. Halfway through the peanut butter and jelly sandwich he was making for Allie, his hands were sticky and wet. If not for caller ID he wouldn't have subjected the phone to his jelly-smeared hands at all.
"Hey," he replied. "What'd you find out? Did you get my stuff?"
"It's gone. Your office is wide open and there's nothing in there. It's like Regal Pharmaceuticals never even knew you were alive. Sorry, buddy."
"Damn. I'm not surprised but it was worth a shot."
~~~
What am I really looking for here, Jane asked herself as she settled in at the computer and logged in to NetReach. Unsure whether it was okay to have coffee with her, she took a healthy sip and pushed it out of view behind the monitor. The first order of business, she had already decided, was to find out what had happened to the wife and daughter. She hadn't stopped thinking about what Kristie had said earlier. She's right, Jane admitted to herself. I do think something happened to Richard Creedmoor and I'm afraid Rob had something to do with it. All I'm doing here is checking the facts. The math was simple. If Jessica and Sara Creedmoor died in the hospital there were two fewer bodies unaccounted for.
She started with the same search query she'd used the day before, but this time plugged in the names of the accident victims. The crunching took longer and there were fewer results, but there was still plenty to look at. She clicked on an article from The Gorham Messenger in Maine.
Woman and Daughter in Comas Following Snowy Car Wreck
-- Gary Moyock, Staff Writer, Posted November 19, 2005.
A twenty-nine year old woman and her four-year old daughter are both in comas at The Medical Center at the University of Southern Maine at Gorham after a serious crash on Wednesday. Police say that the driver, Jessica Creedmoor, was not wearing a seatbelt and was thrown partially out of the vehicle after it slid off an icy road and collided with a tree. Sara Creedmoor was belted into a child car seat which was torn from its straps and apparently careened through the interior of the SUV, a 1999 Ford Explorer, during the crash. The accident occurred around noon on Narragansett Street at the height of the first significant snowstorm of the season.
Both passengers suffered severe head injuries as well as numerous cuts and scrapes. Jessica suffered two broken legs, neck and pelvic fractures and was treated for spleen damage. She has undergone at least two surgeries.
A CT scan indicated that Sara's head injuries were so critical that immediate surgery was performed to remove a bone flap from the left side of her skull to alleviate pressure. In addition to head injuries, Sara sustained a broken arm, a broken leg and a collapsed lung. Her coma was described by a surgeon as "profound."
"Both Jessica and Sara are in comas, but are breathing on their own," hospital spokesman Ken Brevard said in a statement. "They remain under constant observation in the Intensive Care Unit."
- Contact Gary Moyock at GMoyock@messengermedia.com -
Jane jotted down the contact information for the reporter even though she realized it was five years old, and moved on. She now knew that as of November 19, 2005, two days after the accident, both of them had still been alive. But not by much. She keyed through four more pages of search results. Most had nothing to do with the Creedmoors and probably appeared only because her query was too vague. Finally she tried a new search after adding the words 'die' and 'death' to the search criteria. The answer came quickly after that.
New Jersey Mother and Daughter Pass Away After Thirteen Weeks in Comas
-- Gary Moyock, Staff Writer, Posted February 9, 2006.
Jessica and Sara Creedmoor, who had been in comas since a November 16 automobile accident, passed away within minutes of each other at approximately 2:00 a.m. on Monday morning at The Medical Center at the University of Southern Maine at Gorham. Jessica, 29, and Sara, 5 (4 when the accident occurred) were traveling northeast on Naragansett Street when the car skidded off the road, struck a tree and turned over. In addition to severe head injuries which caused the comas, the victims each suffered broken bones, bruises and lacerations.
Because of the severity of the head injuries, neither had been expected to emerge from their comas. Both were capable of breathing on their own but neither showed even remote brain activity.
While the comas were of similar nature and seriousness, hospital spokesman Ken Brevard had no explanation as to how the deaths occurred at almost the same time. "Something like this is easier to explain for somebody who believes in God," he remarked. "Other than that, I'd attribute it to coincidence." He later mentioned that the mother and daughter had been expected to live indefinitely, but in a vegetative state.
Jessica Creedmoor, originally from South Windham, was arriving with her daughter for a holiday visit with friends and family when the accident occurred. They are survived by Richard Creedmoor of Chesilhurst, New Jersey. No arrangements for funeral services have been announced.
- Contact Gary Moyock at GMoyock@messengermedia.com -
So they had hung on for thirteen weeks. That must have been hard for Richard Creedmoor to live through, but it didn't really have anything to do with Rob. Kristie was right, Jane realized as she chewed on the end of her pen. The best thing she could do was forget about the whole thing. It would go away as soon as she let it. There were plenty of problems in her life that she could dwell on. Plenty. This wasn't one of them.
Her thoughts took her back to the day she'd caught up with Manteo in that bedroom, which she now knew had been Sara's. It was hard to imagine that creepy mansion as the home of a living, breathing family. It seemed more like a haunted house when she was inside. Knowing she had a few more minutes before she had to get home, she entered one last query: "Richard Jessica Creedmoor 621 Falling Run Road." Three search results came up. Two seemed to be dry, real estate listings but the third, an article from the Homes section of The Hammonton Bulletin, was full of exactly the kind of information she was craving.
Renovations on Chesilhurst estate Nearly Complete
-- Charlotte Mecklenberg, Hammonton Bulletin, Posted August 12, 2005.
When Richard and Jessica Creedmoor purchased the house at 621 Falling Run Road in 2001 they thought they knew what they were in for. Turns out they didn't. Although structurally sound, the expansive house had fallen into a marked state of disrepair, with sixties and, gasp, seventies era décor at every turn. They envisioned several years of dust, heavy lifting and quite a few how-to courses at Lowes and Home Depot. In the end that was the way it turned out, but it was much more challenging than the twenty-something couple had expected. Neither could bring themselves to answer in the affirmative when asked if they would do it all over again had they known how difficult the process would be.
Richard, a tall, slender man and local business owner, took responsibility for the major aspects of the work. Jessica, a full-time mother who gave birth to a daughter, Sara Creedmoor, during the first months of the renovation, took care of the finer points whenever she found the time. "Rich had it the hardest," she said modestly. "We vowed to do most of the work ourselves so he spent a lot of time learning and then a lot more time doing. He did sheetrock, redid the floors, installed appliances, a lot of woodwork, you name it. He even fixed the sprinklers, reseeded the lawn and replaced the landscaping."
Right on cue, Richard listed the parts of the renovation that Jessica handled. "If I had to decorate the place it would have looked worse than before we started. She told me what to paint and what color to paint it and I just followed orders. I got so I was pretty good with a brush and roller."
When asked what they had done to celebrate when the house was finally finished both Creedmoors laughed. "Nothing," Jessica said. "We sat in the house quietly and enjoyed it. We were very proud of what we accomplished."
"There's nothing like doing it yourself," Richard said. "Not a day goes by where one of us doesn't look at a piece of woodwork or a refinished banister or something and start reminiscing."
The article included more pictures than text but it was next to impossible to see them clearly on the computer screen. She recognized parts of the house, including a view from out front. The Creedmoors themselves were even more difficult to make out than the house itself in the grainy photographs, but Jane could see their shadowy images, one of which was holding a toddler on her lap. Her stomach churned when she thought about what was in store for the family four months later.
By then it was midmorning. She wondered if it was too early to go home, but then decided she could tell Steve that the hospital floor was over scheduled and she wasn't needed. As she logged off NetReach and packed up to leave she wondered why she'd tortured herself by reliving the Creedmoor's pain. What had she gained? Kristie was right. There was no point to her research. Hoping it was out of her system, she left the hospital, climbed into the car and headed home.
~~~
She didn't get very far. The idea hit her before she'd left the parking lot. Manteo, Creedmoor, all of it had run its course as far as she was concerned. It was interesting, even fascinating, but it no longer had anything to do with her -- if it ever had. It was time for closure, and time for her and Steve to try to put their marriage back together, if that was still possible. There was one thing she needed to do before she was willing to put this behind her, and it was a simple thing.
She pulled the car out of the line of traffic waiting for the light and parked in the emergency room overflow lot. The number for the Hammonton police was stored in the contact list of her phone so it was only seconds before it was dialed.
"Can I please speak with Sergeant Rockingham?" she asked. It turned out that she couldn't, but somebody agreed to have the Sergeant call her back as soon as he was available. A plan was already forming in her mind. It wasn't going to be easy. Steve wouldn't like it because he was going to be on his own with Allie for longer than he expected. In the long run she was sure it was best for both of them. After this day it'll be over, she told herself, and she could focus all her energy on saving their marriage. She drove away from the hospital and slowly made her way toward home. Three miles later the phone in her lap rang.
"Miss Havelock?" the sergeant said in the twangy drawl of a black man who'd spent a lot of time somewhere in rural America. Jane couldn't place the accent but it was obvious that he couldn't have lived in New Jersey for very long.
"Hello? Sergeant Rockingham?" she answered anxiously before swapping her hands between the phone and the steering wheel. "Hello?"
"Just returning your call," Rockingham said.
"Thanks. I know you're busy and it's almost lunchtime. Did you hear anything new about the Creedmoors?" she asked.
"The Creedmoors? Not a thing," he answered. "Should I have?"
"Well, no, not that I'm aware of," Jane stammered.
"Why don't you just say what you want to say? You're fishing for something here, aren't you?"
He's good, Jane thought. No use trying to trick him into anything. "I can't stop thinking about what I saw in there," she confessed. "In that house. I feel like something is wrong. I'm worried about my friend that I saw in there. If there's a reason for him to be there, I can't think of what it could be. I just need to stop thinking about this. I need to be done with it. And I'm worried about the man who lives there. I was reading about everything that happened to him."
"You mean the accident up in Maine?" Rockingham asked. "Yeah, that was quite a story. I know a little bit about that."
"That poor man," Jane said. "I can't stop thinking about it."
"Now I have a question for you," Rockingham said. "Where on earth were you reading about that? It's been five years. What's going on here?"
"Nothing. I just checked it out on the internet, that's all."
"But why?" he asked. "Listen, with all due respect, what does that have to do with you?"
"It's nothing, really," Jane said. "I was just asking if there was anything new, that's all."
"Nothing new about what?"
"I get your point, Sergeant, really. I know."
"My man went out there, got some ID from Creedmoor and had a look around. Ain't anything going on there. Unless you know something I don't know. Are you holding out on me?"
"Did he look inside the house?" Jane asked as she pulled onto her own street.
"I doubt it," Rockingham answered. "He had no call to. I'm sure they did the ID check at the door and that was the end of it. There wasn't anything going on at all."
"I'll bet if the officer had gone inside he'd feel differently. There's the smell and the graffiti all over the walls."
"I can ask but I'd bet my bottom dollar he never went in." He paused. "The walls I remember. Maybe you better tell me about that smell again."
"I'm not sure how to describe it. Maybe like rotten eggs. When I went upstairs it was a lot stronger. Just some kind of foul smell."
"That might be something worth looking into. Most likely it's nothing but bad housekeeping. Maybe I can send somebody out there again when I get a chance."
There was the opening she'd been looking for. "I'm heading out there in a few minutes," she told him. "I want to have one last look. Then I'm done with this." Would he take the bait?
"You're going to the house?" Rockingham asked. "You can't do that. You can't be doing that."
"Why not? Is it against the law?"
"Well, not exactly. But you can't go snooping around private property like that. And what if there really is something wrong out there? Then you're in a fix."
"Oh well," she said, trying to sound as naïve as possible. "I just have to know."
"You have to know what?"
"That's what I don't know."
"I don't think it's a good idea for you to go out there," he told her again.
"Are you telling me not to?" She pulled into her own driveway and cut the engine.
"I can't," he admitted. "Look, I don't have anything pressing right now. Why don't I go on out there with you? I was heading out for some lunch anyway."
Yes, she thought. Yes! "That'd be great. I'm nervous about going out there alone. Especially if I get a chance to go inside."
"You should be nervous, and you damn sure shouldn't be going inside. I mean, it's a job for the police. Not that there's anything out there to worry about. Why don't you come by the station and we'll ride out together in a squad car?"
"I can be there in twenty minutes," she said. She knew it would be more like forty.
~~~
Steve was waiting for her in the living room when she walked inside. She could hear Allie's videos in the other room. Well aware of Steve's child care style, she knew that's what Allie had done for most of the morning. "Hi," she said.
"Hi," he answered without moving his lips.
"Did you and Allie make it to school?" she asked, already sure what the answer would be.
"No. She didn't feel good."
"It doesn't matter," Jane answered. She didn't bother asking if Allie was feeling better because she knew her husband had made up the bit about her being sick. "It's only preschool."
He glanced around before speaking again. "Look, I was thinking," he said. "Do you think one of us should move out? Probably me. Allie needs you more."
She hadn't planned on stopping to talk but this was big. It had all happened so fast. Feeling faint, she steadied herself with a hand on the wall before slipping into a chair. A smug look crossed his face as he watched her reaction. "I think it's too soon for that," she said after dropping her day bag between her feet.
"You accused me of adultery. I don't want to live under the same roof if you think that."
I saw pictures, she thought. I wouldn't exactly call it an unfounded accusation. But it wasn't the time for that. "What about Allie?" Jane asked. "I can't do it to her. It would break her heart." She thought about little Sara Creedmoor. "All a little girl wants is to be happy with her mother and father. I can't take that away from her."
"Even if the mother and father are miserable? I can't live like this," he said, folding his arms.
"We couldn't even afford it," Jane argued. "Where would you live? And don't forget, it takes two of us covering for each other to take care of Allie. Neither one of us could do it alone."
The conversation ended then because Allie appeared in the doorway. "Mommy!" she yelled as she tore across the room and buried herself in her mother's shirt.
Jane held her tightly. She was the same age Jessica Creedmoor had been when she'd died of a broken head and a collapsed lung. "I love you so much, sweetie. We'll always be here for you." She looked at Steve but couldn't see his face through her own tears. He didn't have a clue about why she was crying. How could he? He knew nothing about Sara Creedmoor. She heard him swear under his breath and stamp out of the room.
~~~
"I have to go back into work," she told him a few minutes later after failing to think of a more believable reason for her to leave again.
"What? You just got back from work!"
"I know. They over scheduled this morning and under scheduled this afternoon."
"You mean they fucked up, in other words," he sputtered. "So I'm on duty again. This Mr. Mom deal is getting old."
She'd recently vowed never to use the words "I'm sorry" to him again but the phrase nearly popped out of her mouth before she caught herself. "I'll be around more after today. I promise. Just this last time." She expected him to put up a fight but he didn't say anything more about it. Without another word she was back out of the house and on her way to Hammonton within minutes.
~~~
"It's a good thing I didn't wait on you for lunch," a uniformed officer said after emerging from somewhere behind a counter. In his hand was a Taco Bell wrapper that held something half-eaten. She'd guessed his race correctly but had been wrong about everything else. He looked to be in his mid fifties, with a splash of gray in his hair near the temples. He was in good shape but older than he'd sounded over the phone. "I'm Sergeant Rockingham. You've got to be Jane Havelock."
"Yes," Jane said, offering her hand. "Sorry I'm later than I said I would be."
He smiled. "I knew you would be. You seem like somebody who stays below the speed limit." He nodded at the man at the desk, as if they'd already discussed the sergeant's plans, and he came around the counter. "Let's get on the road."
They walked outside through glass doors to a standard police cruiser with a narrow set of lights across the roof. "I've never been in one of these," she said as she buckled into the passenger seat.
"That's a good thing," he answered with a smile. The engine roared to life and they were on their way. Jane marveled at the way the other cars on the road slowed and moved from their path, the same way she always did when a police vehicle was around. It looked a lot different from this perspective.
"I thought you were a nurse, Miss Havelock," he said as he eyed her purple scrubs.
"You can call me Jane. And I am a nurse."
"I'm Duane, then, since we're not really on official business. You look more like a lab tech or an x-ray girl in that garb. Where I come from the nurses dress like, you know, that lady in Cuckoo's Nest. With Jack Nicholson."
"Are you sure? That was a long time ago," Jane said. "I think most nurses dress like this now."
"Could be, could be," he said. "Except in the movies, maybe." They were on the expressway now. The cruiser had taken off like a rocket as soon as they merged into traffic and hadn't slowed down at all. Sitting back casually with one hand on the wheel and looking everywhere except the road in front of him, Rockingham moved into the left lane and drove even faster. Jane tried unsuccessfully to see the speedometer. They were doing ninety, easily, she was sure, as she covertly clutched the handle of the door next to her.
"What is all this stuff?" she asked, pointing at the array of electronics and screens that ran across the front from door to door. "Radios?"
"Most of it's communication gear, yeah," he said. "That's a computer under there," he said, pointing somewhere between himself and her. "I've got some experimental hardware in here, too. The company that makes it wants it beta-tested," he explained. "So they let us have it for free."
Jane was increasingly nervous about missing their exit but at the last minute he cut back over to the right lane, aided greatly by yielding motorists, and guided the car down the ramp and onto route 571. Jane empathized with the driver of the Mustang in front of them after Rockingham caught up. She'd never been ticketed in her life, but even so there was nothing more nerve-wracking than driving in front of a police car on a two lane road. It was uncomfortable for Jane just riding shotgun. Thankfully the Mustang turned in the other direction when they reached Falling Run Road.
"That didn't take long," Jane said. "We're just about there."
"I want you to stay in the car," he warned. "All I'm doing is knocking on the door and asking for some ID. He doesn't have to show it to me and he damn sure doesn't have to let me inside."
"Staying in the car's fine for me," she agreed. "All I want to know is that Mr. Creedmoor is safe and sound." She turned to face him as they passed through the stone pillars that flanked the driveway. "But how do we know if it's really him?" she asked. "That was my whole problem with what your other officer did."
"I'll know him. I checked his driver's license picture before we left so I could be sure. If it's Creedmoor that opens that door, I'll know it."
"You can do that?"
"Of course. I'm the police," he said, grinning as they approached the mansion. "As a matter of fact I don't even have to be at headquarters. I can do it right there," he said, pointing at the computer again.
"So we'll know for sure," Jane said. "Good." She took a long look at the grounds as the car stopped after passing all the way around the oval. From where they sat in the cruiser it all looked so orderly and serene that she could understand why nobody thought much about her concerns. The place appeared as though it was cared for by an army of servants and landscapers. It would be hard for anybody to believe that the inside would be any different. But she knew otherwise. She'd seen it.
"You stay here," he said as he opened the door and stepped out. He fingered his holstered pistol momentarily as he walked to the door, probably more out of habit than anything else. After pushing the doorbell button he took three steps back but never took his eyes off the door. When nothing happened he pushed the button again. After the third time he rapped on the door with the iron clapper. Finally, after he'd been on the porch for five minutes, he walked back and got back into the cruiser. "We'll wait a little," he told her.
"For what?" Jane asked.
"People don't like opening the door for a cop," he said. "But they usually change their mind if you give them time. Or maybe nobody's home yet."
There was movement even before he'd finished the sentence, but not from the house. They both twisted sideways in time to see a shiny burgundy Mercedes turn into the driveway from the road. Jane thought it was the same one she'd seen the first night she'd been there but made no mention of this. The driver of the Mercedes slowed to a crawl halfway to the house. "He just saw us," Rockingham said. "That's normal. I wouldn't like it none either if a cop was sitting in my driveway."
The Mercedes picked up speed. "That's his car, all right," Rockingham said. "I checked his registrations, too."
"What's he doing?" Jane asked.
"He's probably asking the same thing about us. He's just being cautious and trying to figure out what's going on. I'll go talk to him if he ever gets this far."
When the Mercedes reached the cruiser Jane could see inside it clearly. For a split second she felt as though she couldn't breathe. The bottom dropped out of her stomach the way it did on a roller coaster. Does the sergeant see what I see? Finally, somebody was going to have to start taking her seriously. Because she was right about everything. Sitting behind the wheel of the sparkling Mercedes was none other than Rob Manteo, the grimy sander of decks and digger of trenches. She desperately wanted to see the expression on Rockingham's face, but she and Manteo had locked eyes and she couldn't tear herself away from his stare. She saw him, he saw her, and she wasn't sure who was more surprised.
"That's him. Let's see about this," Rockingham said as he stepped out of the car. Jane was speechless. That's who? What are you talking about? Rockingham walked behind the Mercedes but before he reached the passenger side it began moving again, this time not as slowly as before. Rockingham stopped and watched as it disappeared behind the house.
Instead of returning to the cruiser, the sergeant followed on foot. That didn't look like a good idea to Jane. Now that he knew that there's a problem here, she thought he'd be more careful than that. He does know, right? Shouldn't he know better? She saw the keys dangling from the ignition and wondered how hard it would be for her to drive the car around the house and somehow rescue him from his mistake.
It wasn't long before the sergeant reappeared, apparently unharmed, and walked back in the direction of the cruiser. The sound of squealing tires erupted from somewhere behind him, filling the air as he approached. Rockingham picked up his pace as he looked back to where the sound was coming from before jogging the last ten steps. He reached the cruiser just as a beat up white pickup truck flew from behind the house and up the driveway. The truck stopped briefly at the shed, where Manteo hopped out and quickly transferred a few things into the truck bed before taking off again. The brake lights flashed for an instant before it fishtailed out onto road and was gone. Jane had seen that truck many times before.
"Did you see him?" she yelled out the window. "Now do you believe me? That was him! That was my friend!"
Rockingham pulled the door open and climbed in. "Settle down, please," he said. "Just get a grip on yourself. Take a deep breath." Jane did. "Now listen. Everything is okay. That was Creedmoor, the man who owns this house, and he's fine. We saw him and we saw his car."
"That's not Creedmoor! That's Rob Manteo! Can't you---"
"Maybe you didn't get a good look," he said sharply, interrupting her. "I did. That was Richard Creedmoor."
"I saw him plain as day!" Jane protested. "He was looking right at me! It was Rob Manteo!"
"He was looking right at me, too." He reached for the computer console. "I'll call up his driver's license on NJWIN." He slid a tiny keypad out from beneath the dashboard and typed with his thumbs. "C R E E D M O O R," he spelled out loud as he typed before hitting the return key. Nothing happened. But then something did. A picture image of an enlarged driver's license appeared. Jane craned her neck to look. The name said 'Richard Creedmoor.' The face said Rob Manteo. What's going on here? Am I nuts?
"See? That's Creedmoor," Rockingham said. "We just saw the man. This license confirms it."
"This isn't right," Jane insisted. "I swear to God that was my friend Rob Manteo in that car. I swear to God!"
"I don't know what else I can do to prove it to you. There it is right on the screen."
"If everything's okay, why did he take off like that?" Jane asked. "Doesn't that seem suspicious to you? That was the truck he comes to my house in. I've seen it a hundred times."
"I think it's time we got back to headquarters," Rockingham said. "I want you to think this through. It might be best if you just dropped this. Nothing good can come of it. You're not making a lot of sense right now."
She scowled. "I guess that's how it must look to you. But I know what I saw."
Neither spoke until they were back on the expressway. This time Rockingham stayed in the right lane and took his time. There didn't seem to be anything to be in a hurry about anymore.
"I can't be right, can I?" Jane asked quietly as the car moved along. "You must think I'm crazy."
"You didn't have a good angle, no matter what you say. And your brain wanted it to be your friend, or at least expected it to be him. Our minds can make us see what isn't there sometimes. I think that's all this is."
"Maybe," Jane said.
"On the other hand, if you're sure this is the man that's been coming to your house, then, well, the only answer is that he's leading a double life. If he is, I'd like to know about that. The way I see it, the question is why would he do that? I checked Creedmoor out after you called. He's got money to burn from selling his business. His house is worth a million bucks. God knows how much he collected from the insurance company for his wife and kid. He doesn't need to be working as no handyman. So if he is, I'd like to know why."
"I'm pretty sure he's crazy," Jane said. "The accident started it. Something like that could drive anybody insane. He's been overdosing on steroids for years. I've seen him acting pretty wild."
"Okay. But why the handyman act? What's the point of it? Can he even do the work?" Rockingham asked.
"Oh yeah," Jane answered. "Top notch. And his prices are really low."
"I wonder if they're low for all his customers or just for you. That's something I'd like to know," Rockingham said.
"Come to think of it, I've never heard of another customer of his. In fact, I thought Creedmoor was one of his customers. Every time he finishes something for us we give him something else to work on."
"His ideas or yours? The new projects, I mean."
Jane thought about it. "Both, I guess. He tells us what he knows how to do and we agree to it."
"Sounds like they're his ideas to me."
"I never looked at it that way," Jane admitted.
"It's almost like he picked you," Rockingham continued. "Is there anything you're not telling me? You got any history at all with this guy?"
"No, I swear. My husband met him at Home Depot one day and hired him to build our sprinklers. It was completely out of the blue. This is getting kind of weird."
"Weird ain't the word for it," Rockingham said as they drove through downtown Hammonton toward police headquarters. "Weird ain't the word for it."
Chapter 17
"He told me about his wife and daughter once," Jane said as the patrol car rolled through downtown Hammonton. "I wasn't very sympathetic. I don't think I really believed it, not all the way. I still don't. If it really happened, I'm not so sure it really happened to him." She stared out the window as small-town scenery whizzed by. "I'm not sure how to explain this. What if he's taking on the life of the guy who lived in the house? You know, he really believes that it was his wife and daughter that died? I mean, my guy, Manteo, pretending that everything that actually happened to Creedmoor happened to him."
"There's only one man, Jane. They're the same guy. I already proved that to you."
"I wish I'd talked to him about it more," Jane said. "I think he really wanted to talk about it."
"Do you know about what happened up there after the girls died?" Rockingham asked. "With the district attorney?"
"I don't know a thing about it."
"I do," Rockingham said. "You know what mercy killing is, right?"
Jane drew in a breath. "Of course I do. I'm a nurse. What happened?"
"Nothing was proven. There wasn't even a trial. But the district attorney up there thought your boy pulled the plug. Plugs, I should say."
"No!" Jane replied. "It just keeps getting crazier."
"I guess it didn't help that after three months in comas they died at almost exactly the same time," Rockingham said. "Talk about a red flag."
"That jumped out at me when I read it."
"Like I said, it never came to anything in the end. He walked. Got away with it."
"How do you know he really did it?" Jane asked.
"I just do," Rockingham replied flatly.
"It would explain a lot," Jane said. "About how he is."
"So are you coming around?" Rockingham asked. "You understand now that Manteo is Creedmoor, right?"
"I'm not sure what to believe," she admitted. "It makes sense, in a way."
"I just wanted you to know what kind of man this is. I've got to get back inside," Rockingham said after they pulled into the station parking lot. "Look, promise me you'll stay away from him. It's a sad story but he's damaged goods. Don't feel sorry for him. All it'll do is bring you trouble. Just steer clear. And call me if you're thinking about doing anything like going out to his place again. I'll talk you right out of it."
~~~
As she drove out of Hammonton she couldn't get her mind wrapped around everything she'd learned in the previous hours. She knew Rockingham was right. Manteo wasn't the man that she and Steve thought he was. He wasn't even Manteo. He was Richard Creedmoor, a successful and well-off man who'd lost a wife and daughter in a horrible accident. Was it even possible that he'd then been charged with killing them himself? The story of Manteo wouldn't go away the way she wanted it to. She had to know more.
Sergeant Rockingham had made a remark that troubled her. Why had Manteo, or Creedmoor, gone to such great lengths to present himself as something that he wasn't? And why the Havelocks? If there was any logical reason, she couldn't see it and neither could the sergeant.
It wasn't even two o'clock yet and Steve wouldn't expect her home for hours, since she'd lied to him about working a second shift. There was still time for another round of research. The idea of more time in front of the computer in the dingy media center held little appeal, though. Besides, she decided, if there was anything in the system about a related mercy killing controversy she probably would have come across it already. By the time she'd reached the hospital she had a plan. She parked in the shade, pulled out a blank pad and grabbed her notes. It only took a few minutes on the cell phone to get a number for The Gorham Messenger in Maine. She held her breath after asking for Gary Moyock, and silently pumped a fist in the air when she was asked to hold. Five years later and he was still there.
"Gary Moyock," a voice said after a few minutes had passed.
"I can't believe you're still there!" Jane said.
"It's only two o'clock. Who is this?"
"No," Jane said. "I mean, I read your stories from a long time ago. I was hoping you still worked for the paper." She introduced herself and awkwardly tried to explain her connection to Manteo---no---Creedmoor--- to a reporter who was hundreds of miles away and probably hadn't thought about the story in five years. As she heard herself talk she tried to imagine what he must be thinking. It couldn't be good. She sounded like a lunatic.
"I remember this," Moyock finally said. "Don't tell me. You want to know about what happened with Creedmoor after the girls died, right?" he asked in a nasal voice.
"They didn't just die, right? Wasn't he accused of pulling the plug on them?" Jane asked.
Moyock snorted. "You just saved us twenty minutes. I'd go pull my notes on this but I'm sure they're gone. It doesn't matter. I remember it well."
"So it's true?" she asked. "I couldn't find anything in the paper about it."
"We didn't write it up, and nobody else caught wind of it unless somebody down your way did." Jane made a mental note to check the local papers when she had a chance. "I started on something but by then it all wound down and they let him go. It ended up as a non-story as far as we were concerned."
"What happened? Did he do it?"
"Let's put it this way," Moyock said. "Somebody did it. After he got off they charged somebody else with it. An orderly or nurse's assistant, somebody like that. I can't remember exactly what she was. Somebody pulled those plugs."
"So maybe Creedmoor didn't do it."
"Oh, he did it. The other woman never got to trial. She had a stroke or a heart attack or something the day after she was charged. They ended up dropping the whole thing. I don't think the prosecutor really thought she was guilty. He felt like he had to do something, anything, until he could find a way to nail Creedmoor. But that's only my opinion."
"So why didn't he?" Jane asked. "How did Creedmoor get away with it?"
"There was no way to prove it. If I remember correctly the time of death for both of them was almost identical. It was like 2:35 and 2:37 in the morning. There was absolutely no medical reason for either of them to die, let alone both of them at the exact same time. A few people at the hospital swore they saw him skulking around that night but there was no evidence. Somehow he never got caught by any security cameras. The DA couldn't believe it. There were cameras all over the place. It seemed impossible but somehow he stayed out of view. That man was clever. He had a plan." He paused. "I don't know what your views are, but if you think about it, Creedmoor had the best motive. They were both permanent veggies. He probably didn't want that for them."
"That's a tough one," Jane said. "I've never walked in his shoes. I don't know how I'd feel."
"Yeah. Not that I'm passing judgment either way but like I said, they were both completely brain dead. I guess it depends on your own beliefs. That's not my call. I don't know what I would do. I don't know if I could do that or not. But I think he did it."
"The prosecutor felt pretty strongly about it," Jane said. "That's what the police around here said."
Moyock laughed. "With that guy it all depended on what the people wanted. The voters, I should say. He could play it either way. You'd have to know this guy. We always figured he'd end up running for governor but he's still here. He knew how to work a crowd and the crowd didn't take kindly to what Creedmoor did. Or what everybody thought he did. The DA had a lot to gain by convicting Creedmoor."
"The police down here told me he was arrested."
"He was arrested, all right. That kind of thing, taking life and death in your own hands, that doesn't play well around a place like Gorham. The DA pulled out a bible and thumped it every chance he had, you know what I mean? Especially if there was a TV camera or a reporter nearby. I remember him using the phrase 'playing God' over and over. The guy's still around. Still hams it up any time he gets a chance."
"But the charges were thrown out?" Jane asked. "How long did that take?"
"Right. It didn't stick. They charged him. Arrested him right there at the motel before the sun came up the next morning. He didn't post bail so he spent a few weeks in jail. Then it got thrown out."
"He was in jail for killing his own wife and daughter? For a few weeks? Why didn't he post bail?"
"You'd have to ask him," Moyock answered. "I would guess that he reached the end of his rope, if you follow me. I didn't interview him or anything, but I heard people talking. He just pretty much sat in his cell and stared into space and didn't say much. Can you blame him?"
"I guess I can't. I can't even imagine what he was feeling. He was in jail for killing his wife and daughter," she said again.
"And he was guilty as hell. He really did it. I guess he figured there was no place to go," Moyock said. "I'm surprised he didn't hang himself in jail. I'm sure they were watching for it. Probably took away his belt."
"He's been through so much. I had no idea," Jane said. As she talked she pulled out the Narvatek folder from her day bag. She'd never gone through it. She couldn't even remember why she'd taken it. Hopefully Steve didn't notice it was gone. "No wonder he's crazy."
"Is he still around? What's he been up to? It's been a long time."
"I only met him this year," she said. "He's working as a kind of handyman repair guy."
Moyock whistled. "Wow. I can't say he looked the part when he was up here. The guy looked too thin for any kind of manual labor. But I guess everything fell apart for him after the crash."
"He sure doesn't look so nerdy anymore. It hardly sounds like the same guy, but I know why. He's been overdosing on steroids for years. Maybe ever since the accident, for all I know. He doesn't have any hair left and I think it made him pretty sick."
"Steroids? Where did that come from?"
"Some kind of warped memory of his wife," Jane explained. "I got the impression that she made some offhand remark about his being skinny just before she left on that trip. That's what he remembers most about her, somehow. He's huge now and he says he was just 'keeping a promise.' Those are his exact words."
"So basically the guy went off the deep end," Moyock said.
"If you want to call it that." Jane leafed through the contents of the folder. "I can hardly blame him, the more I find out about his past." Just as she remembered, the file contained a lot of computer printouts. "You know, now that I think about it all, I'm kind of relieved," she said. "It all fell apart for him, but at least he's not in trouble. I was worried because he was lurking around that house. The house that the Creedmoors owned. I couldn't figure out where the Creedmoors had gone and I was scared. Now I know. I had no idea he was Creedmoor."
"I've got to go," Moyock said. "Hey, keep me posted, okay? I kind of feel for this guy. Maybe I could even do some kind of 'five years later' piece on him."
"Sure. I'll do that. But I don't think the past five years of his life are anything that anybody wants to read about." They said goodbye and Jane pushed a button on her phone to end the call.
~~~
Jane absentmindedly worked through the Narvatek folder as she thought about what she'd just learned about Manteo. Wait -- Creedmoor, she reminded herself again. For her, the phone call with Moyock brought closure. She knew what had happened to him and why he was teetering on the brink of insanity. He was clinically depressed, she suspected, and had never been treated for it. Instead, he embarked on a series of odd behaviors that turned him into, well, a freak. But it really wasn't her problem and she was ready to put it out of her mind. There were plenty of other things for her to think about, most notably her own marriage.
Near the back of the file was a weather-beaten copy of a Regal Pharmaceuticals company newsletter. When she saw the headline on the top of page one she knew why Steve had kept it. "Narvatek Team Announced: Deal signed with CliniMedix." It went on to detail an agreement between Regal and CliniMedix, a clinical research organization, to share the task of analyzing the results of the latest clinical trial for Narvatek. Already one of the most popular diabetes medications in the country, Regal executives expressed hope in the article that this trial would lead to certification for Narvatek as a treatment for atherosclerosis. CliniMedix would supply a team of pharmaceutical specialists and much of the analysis would be done using CliniMedix's cutting edge software, a plan which was expected to shave six months off the wait for FDA approval.
Jane knew how it all turned out. Things went wrong, errors were made and heads rolled. Steve and Cindy lied and blamed it all on CliniMedix and their software. She didn't know if the drug had ever been approved for atherosclerosis, but if it had, CliniMedix hadn't had anything to do with it.
She looked at her watch. Three-forty-five. Speaking of lying, she decided that it was late enough to go home, pretending her afternoon shift was over. When she flipped through the newsletter to find the rest of the story she came across a picture of a dozen people clustered around a long table. For all she had heard about Cindy, she realized they'd never met. Could she even pick Cindy out of a lineup? Because that's what she was trying to do at the moment. She held the photograph closer to her face and squinted as her eyes moved from person to person. Steve, she knew, of course. The olive-skinned man in the expensive suit had to be Ramos. Javier, she was almost certain was his name. Her eyes swept past three men toward the next woman in the picture. Then they darted back to the man who was shaking hands with Ramos across the table and suddenly something was wrong. Very wrong.
The newsletter fell from her hand. For what seemed like the third or fourth time that day she felt like she couldn't breathe, but she forced herself to bend down and retrieve the photograph for another look. Even without the description from Moyock, she knew. It was the eyes. He'd changed a lot, and his eyes didn't have the sickly glaze they had now, but she knew. It was him. The man in the picture was Manteo. Or Creedmoor.
The caption confirmed it. "Richard Creedmoor, President of CliniMedix, inks deal with Javier Ramos of Cardiovascular." It was him.
No. It just can't be, she told herself. But it was. When she looked again she was even more certain. He was tall and gangly, he had a full head of hair and he was clean-shaven, but it was him. It fit everything she knew about him, especially in light of what Moyock had told her.
There were plenty of dots that needed to be connected. The newsletter was dated February of 2005. Six months later things would still be good in the Creedmoor household, she knew based on the do-it-yourself home remodeling feature from August 2005. By then he'd probably been deep at work with her husband on Narvatek. But things had started happening on the project within a month. Bad things. She remembered how distraught Steve had been as Thanksgiving neared, so much so that he couldn't eat. It had all been over by Christmas, at least for Steve, but it would be years before his reputation at Regal would recover. The story was much bleaker for Creedmoor and his company. From what Steve had told her, CliniMedix was devastated and would never recover. She didn't know if the company had even survived, although Rockingham had mentioned that Creedmoor eventually sold it. She only knew that for Creedmoor it probably didn't even matter anymore after what happened on November 16.
She started the car and left the hospital. It was time to break the silence with her husband. He needed to know this. So did Sergeant Rockingham, as a matter of fact. She would tell him first. With trembling hands she picked up her phone and dialed.
When he came on the line she could hardly speak fast enough as she explained the connection between Creedmoor and her husband. He didn't get a word in until she'd told him everything she'd just learned. "That's some story," he said when she finished. Jane wondered how he could sound so calm about it. "Are you going to be around for a while?" he asked. "I'm on a conference call right now. I'd like to go over this with you again later and there's something more you need to know."
"Yes, but hurry."
"How about if I call you in about an hour?" he asked.
"That's fine," she said quickly. "I'll keep my phone on. I need to call Steve anyway and tell him everything I just told you."
Steve answered after one ring. "Where the hell are you?" he demanded without even saying hello. "I thought you'd be home by now! I have shit to do!"
"Listen! Just listen! I figured out who Manteo is. He's Creedmoor. Richard Creedmoor. From that company you worked on the Narvatek drug with."
"What? Slow down. What does the caveman have to do with anything?"
"Do you remember a guy named Richard Creedmoor? I'm looking a picture right now from your files. You're in it and so is he. He's shaking your boss's hand. He must be the head man at CliniMedix. It's the same guy! It's Manteo!"
Steve went quiet, but not for long. "I remember a tall, skinny guy but it wasn't the caveman. This guy looked feeble as hell. We all goofed on him every time he left the room. There's no way, Jane. And who cares if it is?"
"It's him. I'm telling you. If you could see the picture you'd know. What I'm trying to tell you--"
"Holy shit if that's true! Son of a bitch! What a friggin' coincidence!"
"Steve, I don't think it's a coincidence. I think---"
"But he's here right now," Steve interrupted. "I could ask him."
"He's there?"
"Then again, maybe I better not," Steve said. "That deal went pretty bad for him. If it's him I doubt he wants to talk about it. If he doesn't recognize me, we better keep it that way."
"I'm sure he does recognize you. He probably knew who you were all along. That's what I'm trying to tell you. He's there right now?" In her mind she replayed the scene from earlier in the day at the Creedmoor house. When Creedmoor saw her and the sergeant in the police cruiser he'd reacted violently, jumping into the truck and speeding away. Now she knew where he'd gone. "What time did he get there?"
"What difference does it make?"
"Answer me! What time?" Jane demanded.
"About two, I guess. He brought the paint and he's finishing the last room."
He'd gone straight there from the Chesilhurst mansion. "Where's Allie?"
"Last I saw her she was out back in the sand box. What's going on, Jane?"
"Grab Allie and get out of the house. I don't have time to explain. Get out. He's not there to paint."
"What are you talking about?"
"There's no time! Just do it! Please, Steve! Right now!"
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"No! Get out of there!" she repeated.
"I don't see her out back," he said. Jane's heart sank. "Maybe she came inside. Let me look around."
"Is Manteo's truck still there? Check that first."
"Come to think of it, I never saw his truck. He was just here all of a sudden, with a bunch of paint and equipment on the porch. I think he got dropped off or something. There were a ton of paint cans. He must have brought extra." She heard his footsteps. "The paint cans aren't on the porch anymore," he reported. He was moving fast. He might even have been running. Good, she thought. He's starting to understand what it is we're talking about.
"Fuck!" he yelled into the phone a moment later. "I see his truck. It's way up the street!" She heard some commotion, some grunting, and then what could only have been the sound of the phone crashing to the floor.
"Steve! Steve! What happened! Steve!" she shouted into her own phone as she slammed her foot down on the accelerator pedal. She thought she heard the sound of a slamming door. And then nothing. What had he seen? She ran a red light, narrowly avoiding several collisions as she cut off anybody in her path. She had to get home. The horns of angry drivers blared in her wake as she weaved through traffic but nothing mattered then except getting home.
She panicked when the phone rang when she was halfway there, but the panic immediately gave way to relief. It had to be Steve. Everything was okay. She groped around on the floor until her fingers closed on the phone. Without looking she pawed the keypad to answer it. "Hello?"
"Don't even think about calling that cop again, Jane," a voice whispered. "Don't even think about it." It wasn't her husband at all. It was Creedmoor. "If you do you'll be sorry. Jane, are you listening? You'll be as sorry as I've been since 2005 if you breathe a word of this to anybody. Are you hearing me?" Jane's entire body tingled. She was too stunned to speak.
"Answer me!" he hissed. "Why do you think my wife and daughter were driving around in the snow without me? Why? Where do you think I was?"
"I -- I don't know," Jane said.
"I was back home in Jersey trying to save my company from a goddamned liar at Regal pharmaceuticals," he whispered. "Sound familiar?"
"I'm so sorry," she said. "I know that's not enough but I am."
"No, it's not enough." He'd forgotten to whisper now. "I should have been there with them. Then it would have been okay."
"It's the marshmallow man!" she heard in the background. "Uncle Rob, it's the marshmallow man!"
He had Allie with him.
"I'll call you with instructions. You're going to have your hands full for the next few hours. Keep your phone with you." The line went dead. She couldn't have said another word anyway with her throat closed up so tight.
The sound of the sirens rose from the surrounding suburbia as she closed in on her home in her well-traveled Toyota. The closer she got, the louder they became. As it turned out they weren't police sirens, but fire engines. Even before she heard the blast of the fire truck horns she was sure. That was good. Fire engines weren't called in when dead little girls were found.
By the time she turned onto her own street the noise was deafening and it didn't take long to see why. Three gleaming red engines were parked in front of her own house and by the sound of it there was at least one other about to arrive. Firefighters in raincoats and helmets tugged on a growing labyrinth of hoses, some of which were already being used to direct thick streams of water at her house. Which was on fire.
She drove as far as she could until the growing crowd and a line of wooden sawhorses forced her to stop. From several houses away she could already see the flames that were pouring from the blown-out basement windows. The first and second floors didn't appear to be burning yet, although the flames from the basement were licking the exterior as they pulsed higher and higher, threatening everything they touched. Jane ran toward the house, threading her way through her neighbors, until she reached a fireman with a walkie-talkie at his mouth. Remembering Creedmoor's warning, she drew several deep breaths and reminded herself not to let on that there was anything on her mind aside from the fire.
"What happened?" she yelled.
"Who are you?" His eyes veered away momentarily as he waved at some men unrolling a hose on the front sidewalk.
"I'm the owner. Jane Havelock. I think my husband's inside!"
"There's nobody inside, ma'am," he told her. "We walked the entire place. I'm Captain Dare, Sandy Point VFD. Can I see some ID?"
"It's back in the car. Are you sure? The last time I talked to him he was inside."
"We're sure. Ma'am, did you store a lot of gasoline in your basement? Take a whiff. This all started in the basement with gasoline. A lot of gasoline."
"Not that I know of," Jane said. "I don't think so. Maybe my husband did."
"Would you mind grabbing your ID? The fire inspector's going to need to talk with you."
"What about my house?" Jane asked.
"What about it? We're working on it. It'll be out before long," Dare said. "We got an early start on it. That's one thing I bet the inspector's going to ask you about."
"But where's my husband? I know he was here fifteen minutes ago. I think he's inside." Hopefully Dare wouldn't ask about her daughter. He probably didn't even know she had a daughter.
"He's not," Dare said again. "Unless he's in the basement. If he's there, then it ain't gonna' matter. He'd just be a little cupful of ashes. That's one hot fire. Hey, there's the inspector," he told her as he pointed to a figure poking around amid the smoke on the side of the house. "You should go talk with him. He might know something."
She had no idea what to do about Steve. He'd been in the house not too long before the fire started and his car was still in the driveway, but the firefighters insisted he wasn't in there. There was nothing for her to do but retrieve her pocketbook from the car and report to the inspector, a burly redheaded Irishman with white freckled skin much like her own. Maybe he could help her find Steve, who would help her find Allie.
"I'm the owner," she told him abruptly. "I can't find my husband." Only now, after she'd mentioned it to two different people, did she have second thoughts about bringing it up. For all she knew Steve had been taken by Creedmoor, too. It might be best to leave him out of it until she could think things through.
"I'm Les Currituck," the beefy man said, extending a sweaty palm. "Sandy Point Fire Inspector." He glanced at the clipboard in his hand. "You're Jane Havelock, I take it?"
"Yes."
"And you just arrived on scene?" he asked.
"About two minutes ago."
His eyes scoured the clipboard again. He looked at his watch, at Jane, and at the house before going back to his paperwork. Just before he looked up again his face wrinkled with concern and confusion. "You've only been here for two minutes?"
She nodded. "Maybe three or four, now that I ran back to the car for my ID."
"It's four-twenty-five now," he said. "Where were you at eight minutes after four, and what were you doing?"
"I'd say I was in my car heading here. What difference does it make?"
"Did you know what you'd find when you got here?" he asked. "Did you know about the fire?"
"No! How could I know there was a fire?"
"You couldn't. I don't think the fire had even started yet based on what I see here." He folded his arms, the clipboard disappearing into an armpit. "So can you explain how it is that you called this fire in to 911 at eight minutes after four?"
Whatever it was that he was getting at, it was another complication to deal with before she could start looking for her daughter. And she didn't like the sound of it. "What? I didn't call anybody! I didn't even know about the fire until I got here!"
The clipboard came back out. "Is this your cell phone number?" he asked, a pudgy index finger pointing to some smudged figures on the page.
"It is," Jane answered after squinting at the notations. "But this can't be right. I didn't call. As a matter of fact I think I was on the phone with my husband at that time. You can check the phone records."
"This is the phone records," he said in a stony voice.
"Well, it's wrong," Jane told him. "There must be some mistake."
"Is the house fully insured?" he asked.
"Of course," she replied. "Why wouldn't it be? What's your point?"
"Look, lady, I'm the fire inspector," he said. "It's my job to ask these questions."
"What are you trying to say?" Jane demanded.
"I think somebody set this fire deliberately. As a matter of fact, I know somebody did. And it was as amateur a job of arson as I've ever seen. It was almost like somebody actually wanted us to know they burned it on purpose."
"Arson? You think I burned my own house down?"
He returned her glare. "Happens all the time, and it's my job to know when."
"We have so many problems right now," Jane answered with exasperation. "The last thing we would do is make it even worse by doing something crazy like that!" She paused to watch the firefighters. There were now at least eight hoses bearing down on the flames, which appeared to be receding. "Couldn't it have been some kind of accident?"
"A lot of burning gasoline in that basement says different," he said matter-of-factly. "We haven't been able to send anybody down there yet but we know what we'll find." He took a gulp from a bottle of water that he pulled from a raincoat pocket. "What kind of problems were you talking about? Anything financial?"
She sat down on the curb and dropped her forehead into her hands. Careful, she told herself. When they do this on TV it always means they're guilty. "You might as well know," she said without looking up. "My husband just lost his job. But he'll find something. We're not worried about it. It's got nothing to do with this."
"Hmm," he said as his pen scratched on the clipboard. She already knew she'd said too much. "You'll have to talk to the police detective about this," Currituck said. "And your insurance company. You think I'm tough, just wait until the insurance investigator sits you down and grills you. You're playing with their money now. You better make sure you have all your ducks in a row."
Jane hoped he wouldn't try to comfort her. She didn't need his pity. "Why wouldn't they be?" she snapped, looking up at him.
"Whatever. I'm just saying. And about the house. When it's all clear you can schedule a walk-through. Just give me a call. If you want to take anything out there's some paperwork," he warned her. "And you won't be allowed to take anything that has to do with our investigation. Here's my contact information."
Without looking up she held her hand out long enough to accept his creased business card without a word. There was so much more on her mind than recovering anything in the house. All she wanted was for everybody to go away so she could find her daughter.
"We'll do a fire report after our investigation's complete. That's separate from what the police will do. Call me when you have an address I can send it to. I'll also need one for your insurance company. They get a copy, too. You'll have to give the detective a statement when he gets here," Currituck continued. "He'll probably tell you not to leave town or anything." When she finally raised her head again he was gone.
~~~
Although he hadn't said anything at the time, Sergeant Rockingham had been shaken by what he saw in Creedmoor's eyes and face during the stare down earlier that day at the house in Chesilhurst. His thirty year police career had been mostly speeding tickets and paper shuffling in a small town before he ended up in New Jersey, but that didn't mean he'd never seen that deranged glower before. There was trouble in this man. He was unstable and he was about to snap. Rockingham didn't fully understand the relationship between Jane Havelock and Creedmoor but he did know one thing. It would be the Havelocks that were in danger when it happened.
A few minutes on the computer back at his desk was all it took to come up with a simple profile of the Havelock family. There wasn't anything out of the ordinary, he saw immediately. He was a computer programmer, she worked as a nurse, they owned a modest house in Sandy Point which they lived in with their daughter. He jotted down their address, their employers and what cars they drove. At least he had a baseline. It was a start.
On the way out of the building an hour later he stopped to see Joe Boone, a dispatcher who was just coming on duty. "It's five o'clock, Joe. Quittin' time for me. I'm heading home. Can you do me a favor?" He handed over a copy of his notes on the Havelocks. "Keep an eye out for anything that happens with these people tonight, will you? I have a hunch."
"Sure, Duane," Joe said. He scanned the information on the paper. "Hold on. Creedmoor is local but the rest of it's way the hell over by the shore. We can't do anything over there."
"Yeah, I know," he said with a shrug. "Just look for it anyway, okay? Like I said, I have a hunch. Call me at home if you see anything."
~~~
"We'll watch the place overnight and keep out any looters but after that you're on your own. You can call for board-up service tomorrow. Just look online or in the yellow pages. Give the fire department a call if you want to get anything out. They might let you go inside. It's their call. Do you have a place to go?" was the last question that Police Detective Randy Elon asked her. Most of his questions were the same ones asked by Currituck. She tried to give the same answers she had earlier but she knew she was shading them based on prior reactions. Like the others, Elon melted away without saying goodbye when all the right forms had been filled out.
The house still stood, although it was blackened and charred on the outside. The consensus among everybody she'd talked with was that it was a total loss and would be condemned, but that wouldn't be decided for days. Maybe even weeks, depending on what stance the insurance company took. Neighbor after neighbor approached Jane and offered their homes as a temporary place for the family to live. Jane nodded graciously each time, hoping and praying that nobody would ask where Steve or Allie were. She was grateful for the offers but where she would sleep that night wasn't on her mind. Now that the police were finally off her back and the firefighters still on the scene were working only on putting out the fire, finding her daughter and husband were back at the top of her priority list.
~~~
It was hours before the firefighters were finished mopping up the scene. Nothing so much as smoldered by the time they rolled their hoses and packed their gear. Yellow tape was everywhere when they left, a reminder that the house and its immediate environs were off limits, even to Jane. She had no interest in going inside anyway. There was nothing in there that mattered to her at the moment. Until they started pulling out she'd been busy walking around the neighborhood looking for clues about where Steve and Allie might be.
Now she looked at her husband's Audi. It was coated with wet, black soot, so much that she could barely see its true silvery-blue color in the growing darkness. Sitting next to an abandoned house she feared that it would be an attractive target for thieves, but she could only drive one car and didn't even have a key for this one. I'll make sure it's locked, at least. Something caught her eye inside the car as she yanked on a door handle, leading her to wipe at the oily film on the windows and peer inside.
The streetlight cast just enough light that she was able to recognize his clothing. It was Steve, lying face down across the seat. His wrists and ankles were bound with rope and a strip of duct tape wrapped around his head and across his mouth. He was still, but she didn't think he was dead. If he was already dead why would Creedmoor have gone to the trouble of tying him up? The doors were locked so she pounded on the glass. When that didn't rouse him she kicked on the door itself. After the fourth or fifth kick he stirred. A few kicks later he tried to sit up, failed, and rolled onto his back.
There was a lot of blood but she knew from his angry expression that he wasn't hurt badly. With her own face pushed against the window she slapped at the glass until he recognized her. Somehow he twisted himself into a seated position. "Can you unlock it?" Jane shouted through the glass at him. He shook his head no.
A few of the neighbors that were still outside looked over when they heard the shouts. It was best if they didn't see the predicament her husband was in. She scanned the driveway for something heavy, settling on a clay planter full of dead begonias. Before anybody came any closer she bashed at the driver's window with the planter after dumping its contents.
The first time it bounced off the window, nearly flying out of her hands. She concentrated her strength on the next blow, causing the window to break into a spider web of cracks. After that it took only some gentle pushes to knock the glass out of the way. She reached in to unlock the doors and disappeared into the back seat.
"Are you hurt?" she asked as she pulled the door closed behind her. For the first time she saw the bloody gash across the hairline above his right eye that had been the source of the blood that was streaked across his face and neck. "What happened?" He groaned as she peeled the tape from his face and hair.
"Where's Allie?" he asked, his words hard to understand because his mouth was so dry. "Did he get Allie?"
"Yeah. I think so. Did he do this to you?"
"Did you call the police?" he asked wearily, without answering her question.
"We can't. Creedmoor called me and told me not to. I don't know what to do. It looks like he tried to burn the house down."
"I thought I smelled smoke. That's our house?"
"Was our house. What do we do about Allie? He's crazy, Steve. Do you remember what I told you about who he is? I'm afraid he's out for revenge. I'm so scared."
"Untie me, okay? Revenge for what?"
She fingered the knots in the rope around his wrists, looking for an opening. "He blames you for the accident that killed his wife and daughter. He said if he hadn't been busy fighting you off he'd have gone up to Maine with them and the accident would never have happened. He said you lied about what happened on the project."
"He said all that? I've never heard any of this. So it really is him?"
"It is. Did you lie about the project?"
"Of course. It was either him or me. I chose me."
After she'd loosened the knot she pulled the end through, releasing his wrists. As he flexed and shook them she moved on to the rope around his ankles.
"I can't believe I didn't recognize him," Steve said. "He had me fooled with the caveman act."
"I was always suspicious," Jane said. "I knew something was off. The way he slipped in and out of it. What are we going to do? Damn!" she yelled before jamming a finger into her mouth. "I broke my nail."
"We have to tell the police," Steve said firmly.
"No. He'll know right away," she protested. "And he'll do something to her. I just know it. He's always one step ahead."
"What else can we do?" Steve asked. "We don't even know where he went. Do you really think we should try to handle this ourselves? We don't have a clue about what to do."
"You don't know him like I know him," Jane replied. "I think he's been planning this for years. We have to do what he says, at least for now. He said he'd call in a few hours. That was a while ago. Let's give him a few minutes."
"Ten minutes. No more," he said. "You're bleeding." He took her forearm and wiped at the dots of blood with his shirt. The glass in the wounds made it sting but his touch felt good anyway.
"Wait a second! My phone's in my car," Jane suddenly said. "He might be trying to call already. We should go."
"I want to look at the house first," he answered as he reached for the door handle.
"No! Nobody knows you're here. Right now they think it was just a fire. If they see you were attacked they'll start talking and then the police will be back asking all kinds of questions!" They both turned and looked back at the street. It was impossible to recognize anybody in the dusk but the neighbors were still there.
"Do you have the key to this car with you?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said after patting down his pockets. He fished it out and handed them over.
"Get back onto the floor and hide. I'll drive. We need to get away from anybody who's watching us." Without waiting for an answer she climbed into the front seat after using her pocketbook to brush away some of the broken glass that glistened on the leather upholstery. She backed the Audi out of the driveway and made one quick stop at her car, which she locked after grabbing her day bag and phone. Neighbors tried their best to see into the Audi but when it was clear that Jane wasn't going to slow down they stepped out of the way and let them pass.
~~~
The driving was difficult because the windows were so streaked with ash. Steve, his face still layered with blood, stayed in the back seat. When they'd left the neighborhood Jane got out of the car and wiped the rear window with her already-blackened hands. "We should have gone in the house for some clothes," she said wistfully.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"I don't know. I'm just driving. He'll call."
"What about Allie?" Steve demanded. "We have to go to the police. We're taking a chance with every second we wait."
Jane looked at the clock. "It's nine-twenty. Let's wait until ten o'clock. If we haven't heard from him by then we'll report it. But I know we will. He's had a plan all along and tonight's no different. He'll call."
"That's forty minutes! And if we tell the police beforehand maybe they could trace the call," he insisted.
"You have to trust me," Jane replied calmly. "I know him better than you." She pulled into the corner of a supermarket parking lot and killed the engine. After examining her phone she placed it carefully on the dashboard. "So what happened when we were talking this afternoon and then you were gone? Tell me every little detail. Maybe it'll help us guess what he'll do next."
Steve stared at her, as though considering her request, then spoke. "Okay, right when you called---"
"Wait. Start before that. Start when he first came."
"Okay. Allie and I were in the kitchen when the doorbell rings. I look out the window and see him. I'm like 'holy shit, it's the caveman.' I go open the door and he's standing there with poles, paintbrushes and a shitload of paint. Must have been twenty cans," he said. "And not just little cans. Big five gallon buckets, like the ones that sheetrock mud comes in. Way too much paint but I didn't say anything."
"That explains where the gas came from," Jane interrupted. "He must have had it in the paint cans. They said the fire was started with gasoline in the basement."
"I don't know how he got it there without his truck."
"But it turned out he had his truck, right?" Jane asked. "Didn't you say you saw it way up the street?"
He pulled his shirt up and tried to rub some of the dried blood from his face with it. "Yeah. I forgot about that."
"You told me on the phone. So he brings the gas onto the porch and then parks his truck out of sight," Jane summarized. "That tells us that he had this all planned. See what I mean? So what's next?"
"He doesn't say much. Neither did I. He grabs a can and some rollers and heads down the hall. The rest of it stays on the porch, I guess. I heard furniture being moved so I figure he's painting, just like he said. What else would he be doing?"
"How did the gas get down into the basement?" Jane asked.
"I don't know," Steve admitted. "I wasn't really keeping close tabs on him."
"Where was Allie?"
"I was on my computer for a while looking at jobs on Dice," he said. "I thought she was in the living room but then I heard her in with the caveman. You never told me they're such good friends," he said.
"Yes I did."
"I don't like her being alone with him, so I shooed her out. She ended up going outside and playing in the sandbox. I looked out once in a while. That's about when you called."
"And she was still in the sandbox?" Jane asked.
"I thought so. But when I looked again she was gone. I swear I'd just checked on her a minute before. That's when I looked way up the street and saw his truck. I was about to run out the front door when he came in," he said.
"And he belted you?"
"Yeah. With a paint can." He paused. "I wonder why the neighbors didn't see anything."
"He was careful. All they saw was the handyman carrying a can of paint into the house. What next?"
"Next? You woke me up in the car. That's the next thing I remember."
"Interesting," Jane said. "I guess he left Allie in the truck while all this was going on. He needs her trust. If she saw him go after you she wouldn't trust him anymore. Or else he didn't have her yet. Did you smell smoke at any point?"
"No," he answered. "I guess he did that later."
"Couldn't have been too much later," Jane pointed out. "I was there not long after that and it was burning pretty good."
"I wouldn't know," he conceded.
"Here's something I don't get," she said. "The fire chief told me that the first 911 call for the fire came from my phone. From my phone! I never called! I didn't even know about the fire until I got there. I've never called 911 in my life."
"Weird," Steve agreed.
"Creedmoor made that call. I'm sure of it," Jane said. "I just don't know how."
"I can't believe that dumb bastard pulled this off," Steve said, shaking his head. "He'll fuck up. Just give him time."
"We don't have time for you to learn this on the job. You've got to get it through your head, Steve. He's very smart. We'll never track him down if we don't keep that in mind."
"The police will if we just tell them."
She glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard. "It won't be long before they get their chance unless we get a call. Until then it's on us."
Rockingham had just settled into his favorite chair and found the Red Sox game on cable when the phone rang. "Duane, it's me. Joe. Hey, how'd you know something would happen to that family?"
Rockingham winced as he switched the game off with the remote. His grip tightened on the receiver of the phone, one of the few corded ones still around. "Damn," he said. "What happened?"
"You're not going to believe this. Their house burned down. It just came across in the last hour. Probable arson, they think."
"Arson?" Rockingham asked. "What time did this happen?"
"Late afternoon, around four. It's probably all buttoned up by now."
"Well what do you know? I should have stayed with her. Anybody hurt?"
"Nothing in the report about that," Boone answered. "The report says the house was empty. It started with a butt load of gas. Gasoline, I mean. In the basement."
"But nobody was hurt? You're sure about that?"
"I'm sure that's what's on the wire. I can see why they think it's arson, with the gas in the basement. Did they seem like the kind of people that would burn their house down for insurance money?"
"I don't think they did it. It was probably Creedmoor."
The sound of crackling paper rippled through the phone line. "That's the other name you gave me."
"Yeah. I don't know what's going on between him and the Havelocks but I think he did this." Why he did it was another matter, Rockingham thought but didn't say. Why would he do it? What am I not seeing?
"You okay, Duane? You had a feeling about this."
"Yeah," Rockingham said. "Yeah, I'm fine. I think I'll take a ride down there. Unofficial, of course. Thanks, Joe."
~~~
There was nothing left to say and nothing to do but wait. Steve carefully shifted his position so he could see the clock without having to move his aching body. Jane knew Steve hoped the deadline would expire uneventfully so he could bring the police in. She felt differently because she feared that Creedmoor would be even more unpredictable if he knew the police were involved. A deal was a deal, however. Unless something happened in the next few minutes they were going to call the police.
~~~
Rockingham was glad he'd put on his uniform before leaving for Sandy Point. There were people out on the street in front of what was left of the Havelock house. They were probably neighbors, and the last thing he wanted to look like was a looter. With any luck they wouldn't get a good enough look at the cruiser in the darkness to know that he was out of his jurisdiction. He recognized Jane's Toyota on the street. Didn't Boone say nobody was home? The car looked to be okay after he aimed his spotlight on it. That attracted the attention of the people milling around on the street, who looked over but kept their distance. He stepped out of the cruiser and checked the Toyota again with a flashlight. Then, with authority derived from the uniform, he lifted the yellow tape high enough to squat under it and walked up to the house.
The fire was cold but he could still smell the gas. The vinyl siding was blackened and melted in areas that the flames had reached but he'd seen worse. It wouldn't matter in the end, he knew. It was clearly a total loss. As he flicked his flashlight around the house and yard he wondered why he had bothered to come out. So far nothing he'd seen conflicted with anything that Boone told him over the phone. He looked back at the neighbors, who were huddled close together and watching him closely. Maybe somebody had seen something. Or somebody. There was only one way to find out.
~~~
"Steve and Allie were home, but not Jane," the first woman told him. "I live two doors down."
He almost asked for her name but it was an unofficial visit and he didn't want to push his luck. "Allie's the daughter, right? She's four?"
"That's right. Cute as a little button."
"She and her father got out?"
"I didn't see, but that's what everybody said," the woman answered.
"That big ass dude helped them get out," offered a man who looked to be about twenty. "I saw him carrying Allie. They were lucky he was there."
"He had the girl with him?" Rockingham didn't have any doubt about who the man was talking about, but he played it straight. "Who is this big ass dude? Sorry, what was your name, son?"
"Jim Davidson," he said, beaming at his neighbors about his newfound importance. "They hired him to work around the house. We call him ZZ Top 'cause he has this badass beard."
"Any idea what his real name is?"
Davidson shook his head. So did everybody else. "Jim's right," an older man agreed. "He's been around for a couple of months. I didn't see him today."
"I did," Davidson said. "He must have moved his truck down the street to keep it away from the fire. I didn't see Mr. Havelock but I saw ZZ Top walking down the street with the girl. Allie."
Rockingham stared. "Are you sure about this? He has the girl?"
"Well, I'm sure Mr. Havelock went with them, too," Davidson said.
"But you didn't see him," Rockingham asked. "Right? You just saw the girl and the big guy? Did you ever see Mr. Havelock with them at all? How can you be so sure?" Davidson only shrugged.
"His car was in the driveway the whole time," said another voice from the darkness. "I kept wondering if it would burn. It's gone now."
"I'm not completely sure the big guy had the girl," Davidson backtracked. "Maybe it was Mr. Havelock."
"I saw Jane drive it away," the neighbor from two doors down said. "She got here in her car during the fire but she left in the other one. Maybe she wanted to get it away from the burning house since it was in the driveway."
"It was already put out by then," somebody else said.
"His car's nicer than hers," Davidson pointed out. "If she could only save one, that's the one to take."
"Was it the Audi?" Rockingham asked.
"Yeah," he said, surprised. "It was sweet."
"And you're absolutely sure Mrs. Havelock drove away in the Audi. Alone. Right?"
"It makes sense," the first woman said. "She probably wanted to catch up with her husband and daughter."
"If Steve was even with them," somebody from the back said. "None of us saw him."
"Nobody here knows where they went, right?" Rockingham asked. He already knew the answer.
~~~
Jane's phone buzzed from the top of the dashboard at four minutes before ten. How did he cut it so close to our deadline, she wondered. She grabbed the phone and checked the screen, which displayed her own number as the caller. How does he do that? "Hello?"
"Hello, Jane. This is Jane, isn't it?"
"Where's Allie?" she demanded while watching Steve grab his ribs as he leaned into the front seat. He must have taken a shot to the midsection that he didn't remember.
"She's right here," he told her. "As far as she's concerned it's just a field trip with Uncle Rob. She's all smiles."
"Tell me where you are or I'm calling the police!"
"Now, we talked about that," Creedmoor said. "That's a really, really bad idea."
Jane rubbed a palm on her forehead. "Can I talk to her?" Steve motioned for her to give him the phone but she shook her head and turned away.
"Not yet. But I'm going to tell you where we are. She'll be glad to see you."
"Tonight? I can see her tonight? And you'll let her go?"
"We're about to have ice cream in the mall at the Tropicana. It'll be fun."
"In Atlantic City? You're in Atlantic City?"
"Holy shit," Steve said. "What the fuck?"
"If you need directions just ask your husband," Creedmoor advised her. "He knows where the Trop is. Doesn't he, Jane?"
"I know where it is," she said quickly. How does he know so much? "Are you going to let her go?"
"Remember, Jane, we agreed that you wouldn't talk to the police about this," he warned. "If you do, you'll never find us. Never. Because I'll know. Don't do anything foolish and risk your daughter's life. Do you understand?"
"Yes. Is Allie with you right now?"
"She's picking out our ice cream," he told her. "I didn't want her to hear all this grown-up talk."
"Where will we meet you?" she asked.
"We'll most likely go into the Magic Shop after we're done here," he said. "Or maybe before we order. Jane, you didn't say 'we' did you? You're coming alone. I have some special instructions for your husband. But first, look in the glove compartment."
Jane reached over and twisted a knob, causing the compartment door to drop open. It was completely empty except for one thing.
"Do you see the key?" Creedmoor asked.
She picked it up. "Yes. I have it."
"Good. That goes to room twenty-four at the Sea View Motel in Absecon. It should only take you ten minutes to get there. Are you with me so far?"
"I'm not sure," Jane answered. "How did you know which car?"
"There's a key in both of them. Drop your husband at the motel on the way here. Starting in ten minutes I'm going to call that room over and over. The first time your husband doesn't answer Allie and I will disappear. You better hurry. I'm starting in ten minutes." The line went dead.
"You can't come," she said to Steve as she flipped the phone closed and started the car. "He says I have to come alone." She explained what Creedmoor had said about the motel room as she drove out of the parking lot and headed for Absecon.
"Screw that," he said. "He's just playing with us. I'm going with you. He won't do anything. I'll just duck down in the back seat."
"We can't take that chance," Jane argued. "He will know. Don't ask me how but he always does. He knows what we're saying. He even knows what we're thinking. He might even be listening to us right now. If we do it his way maybe this will all be over in a few hours."
"Why in God's name would you think that? It's too easy," he countered. "If all he wanted to do was take her out for ice cream and then give her back, why would he go to all this trouble in the first place? It's got to be a trap. I'm going, and we should tell the police about it too. They can outwit this dope. I have no doubt about that. And when this is all over I'm going to kill this guy."
~~~
Despite Steve's bravado Jane left him at the motel and proceeded to Atlantic City alone in the Audi. The ride took less than a half-hour, the glistening skyline within view for most of it. She tried to relax by listening to the radio but the wind rushing in through the broken window made it impossible to hear. Her hands shook violently as she made her way across the channel and turned south down the barrier island to the cream-colored Tropicana Casino and Resort. A left turn on Brighton Street took her to the Trop parking garage. She could feel her body tremble as she circled upwards looking for a place to park. In a few minutes I'll have her, she kept telling herself, but in the back of her mind she knew Steve had a point. Why would Creedmoor make this so easy?
It had been a few years but she didn't have any trouble remembering how to get into the mall inside the resort. Once inside, she walked down a sweeping stone stairway into a pre-Castro Cuban marketplace ringed with upscale restaurants. Her pace quickened as she passed a fifties-era convertible and moved toward the ice cream shop and the magic store. Awareness that she was going to see Allie made her want to run.
Even if Allie hadn't been beside him she'd have known the man in the baseball cap sitting in front of a dish of ice cream was Creedmoor simply by his size. His appearance had changed drastically. He was dressed neatly in a clean Atlantic City Surf baseball t-shirt and a pair of gray cargo shorts. Most strikingly, the beard was gone. His face was surprisingly gentle without it, although it was bone white where the beard had been and brown everywhere else. Her mind raced as she approached the shop, trying to come up with a reason for the new look.
Allie, sitting innocently next to Creedmoor and spooning ice cream into her mouth, saw her through the glass window and jumped out of her seat. Jane's innards tightened as she watched Creedmoor restrain Allie with a hand on the shoulder. She was back in her seat when Jane entered but still had an ice cream-smeared smile on her face. He gestured to a seat next to his. Her daughter was across the table. It felt like a greater distance than it actually was. Jane wanted to go to her, to squeeze her and never let her go, but Allie didn't seem to understand that anything was amiss. For now, best to leave it that way, Jane decided. "How's your ice cream?" she asked, trying to sound calm.
"It's good, Mommy. I got a banana split! See?" she asked, pointing at a chocolate-laced banana in her dish. Jane felt Creedmoor's hand pulling on hers under the table. He guided her to a side pocket on his shorts before looking her in the eye. She patted the pocket until she realized what Creedmoor was trying to make her understand without upsetting Allie. He had a gun. She nodded gently. He was in charge.
"I thought you were going to the magic store," Jane asked Allie. Don't think about the gun. Don't think about the gun. "Change your mind?"
"We goed there," Allie said between spoonfuls of ice cream.
Whatever Creedmoor had planned, she doubted that it involved letting them walk away. Would he take both of them? The answer had to be yes. He already had Allie. If he doesn't want me, she reasoned, why have this little meet-up at all? He's planning to kidnap both of us. At least Allie won't be alone with him. She decided she wasn't going to make it easy. The busy casino, surrounded by thousands of people, was the safest place they could be under the circumstances. It also provided the best opportunity for escape. If he managed to get them to some remote location where nobody else was around, there wouldn't be as many options. It looked like there were about five minutes worth of ice cream in Allie's bowl so Jane knew she better start thinking fast.
"Jane, can I borrow your phone?" Creedmoor asked politely, interrupting her thoughts. His intent stare told her that it wasn't a request. She dug the phone from her pocketbook and handed it over to Creedmoor, who slid it into one of the his pockets without even looking at it.
What if she and Allie simply bolted for the garage where her car was waiting? Dragging a four-year-old would make it difficult but maybe it was worth a shot, especially if they could get a head start. Surely he wouldn't use the gun in the middle of a crowd. Or would he? Maybe, if they were lucky, they'd run into a policeman or a security guard who could help.
Creedmoor had been making steady progress on his own ice cream but Jane noticed he was slowing down. The comfortable posture was gone. Now he was hunched over and swallowing air as he probed his face with his free hand between bites. The spoon dropped onto the table with a metallic rattle. Something was about to happen. She'd watched him enough to know.
His hands flew to his temples and a low moan escaped his lips. Customers at the surrounding tables looked over but nobody moved. He began to rock back and forth in his seat, his hands clawing and squeezing at his head.
Jane stood up quietly and eased Allie from her own chair. She heard a bowl clatter to the floor behind her as she broke for the door with Allie in tow. After escaping the shop they darted up an escalator to the second floor of the mall. Only when they reached the top did Jane dare to check behind her.
Creedmoor had left the ice cream shop with his hands clasped on his head. He quickly spotted his prisoners and stumbled up the escalator in pursuit. By then Jane had seen the signs showing the way to the garage. "Where's Uncle Rob?" Allie asked.
"We're playing hide and seek," Jane told her as they rushed under an archway and through a plain metal door into the dingy concrete of the garage. All we have to do is make it to the car.
The elevators were too far away so they ran into the stairwell. Allie opened her mouth but Jane shushed her right away. The quieter the better. Their feet scraped and pattered softly on the concrete steps as they worked their way up. Somewhere between levels two and three Jane became aware of another set of footsteps much heavier than theirs echoing beneath them. "You have to go as fast as you can," Jane told her, fighting panic.
Both were out of breath when they reached level five and pushed through the scratchy red door. There was Steve's Audi, just where she'd left it. Creedmoor's footsteps were growing louder but there was still a chance they could make it if they just kept moving. Once they were in the car he'd never be able to keep up. If only Allie could run faster.
They were still a hundred feet from the car when they heard the door slam open against the cinder block wall behind them. "Keep going!" Jane yelled at Allie. She was already considering the best way to get Allie inside the car when it disappeared, replaced by a thunderous ball of fire. A series of smaller explosions followed the initial blast as they stopped in their tracks. After the initial explosions the fire hissed and popped. A wave of super-heated air washed over them at the same instant that Jane heard the windows shatter. Somehow she could hear Creedmoor's footsteps over the clanking of metal debris that rained onto the concrete floor as it was ejected from the burning Audi.
Creedmoor had caught up and was standing behind them admiring the fire with a crooked smile on his face. Apparently the pain in his head was gone. There was no point in running anymore, Jane knew. There just wasn't any place to go. She pulled Allie in close, an arm wrapped tightly around her shoulder. Allie twisted until she could hide her face in Jane's filthy shirt. By then the cars on either side of the Audi were on fire.
Jane wanted to know how he made the car explode but didn't want to give him the satisfaction of asking. The three of them stood there watching the burning car. It occurred to Jane that if they waited long enough, some well-armed people might show up, looking to find out what exploded. Unfortunately, Creedmoor realized it too.
"Time to go. Sorry about the car," he said, holding up a cell phone. "Remote control. You've both been driving around with a few pounds of Semtex under your seat for a month. I've got your whole world wired, locked and loaded. I know everything you say and do." Jane thought about how he'd called at the last minute of Steve's ten o'clock deadline just a few hours ago. He pulled the black pistol from his pocket. "No more tricks. Let's go. Back the way we came." Jane and Allie shuffled past and then he followed.
Two teenagers burst into view out of nowhere, giggling and chattering as the jostled through the red door. They froze when the saw the fire, gaping and suddenly silent. Their eyes moved between Creedmoor's gun, the burning car and then Creedmoor again. "Come on," the boy yelled as he broke for the door. Creedmoor raised the gun and shot him twice in the back from where he stood, fifteen feet away. The girl screamed as she watched her boyfriend fall through the doorway and onto his face.
By then Creedmoor had reached her. Still holding the gun in one hand, he dragged her up against the wall. Before Jane knew it he'd grabbed the girl's hair and was bashing her head into the concrete, her skull thudding softly with each thrust. When he finally released her lifeless body, blood was already dripping down the wall. A casual wipe of his hand on his new shirt left a reddish smear.
"Let's go. Back inside. Walk all the way through." He nudged the boy's body with his foot hard enough to flip it over and expose a bloody face. "Watch your step," he said. "We're going on the beach. If you do anything I don't like, you get it between the eyes. Don't test me."
Jane looked at Allie, who was crying without making a sound. "Can I hold her hand?" she asked. "Please? She's afraid."
His face sagged. It was only for an instant, but Jane saw it. "For now," he said. "Only until we get downstairs."
Jane bent down to Allie until their faces touched. "It'll be fine," she promised. "That wasn't real, honey. They were just pretending. We're just going for a little walk. With Uncle Rob."
"Oh, wait," Creedmoor said, holding out his arm to stop them. "I almost forgot." His hand disappeared into a pocket and came back with Jane's phone. "You need to make a phone call to your husband," he said as he held it out. "Tell him that tomorrow's a big anniversary for me and I'm taking you to Maine for a celebration. That's all. Not a single extra word. No hello, no goodbye. Then give the phone back to me."
Until then Jane hadn't remembered that the next day was November 16, five years to the day after the accident. That couldn't be good. She dialed the number and when Steve answered she delivered the message exactly as Creedmoor had told her to. Creedmoor snatched the phone and ended the call.
"Good," he said. "Now we go. Allie goes first. Then you. Right back the way we came."
The tiny procession threaded its way down the dirty garage stairway and through an ornate set of glass doors back into the mall without speaking. It was midnight but the place was packed, even more so than an hour earlier when they were in the ice cream shop. A group of men in police uniforms sprinted past them and disappeared into the garage.
They walked past the glamorous storefronts of boutiques and specialty shops before reaching the casino. After they'd passed a third security guard Creedmoor broke Jane's grip on Allie's hand and inserted himself between them. He guided them through the slot machines and blackjack tables without attracting a second look from anybody. Just before they stepped onto the escalator that would take them to boardwalk level he rearranged the group into single file without letting go.
Jane had never felt so repulsed as she walked out into the cold, salty air hand in hand with this monster, who had a tight grip on her daughter with his other hand. Every few steps she tried to get a look at Allie but Creedmoor purposely blocked her view. All she could glimpse were her gleaming new Dora the Explorer shoes as Allie bravely struggled to keep up.
Creedmoor led them down a ramp onto the dark, windy beach and all the way to the wet sand where the ocean surf splashed over their feet. Allie started to cry, either because her feet were cold or her new shoes were getting wet. Jane knew they were walking north, parallel to the boardwalk, but she was too distraught to understand exactly where they were. They were moving so quickly that all three were breathing hard by the time they turned away from the ocean and headed back toward the glittering haze of the casinos. Still hand in hand when they reached the boardwalk, they weaved through the still-heavy pedestrian traffic and entered a building through a wide bank of doors.
The bright light that pierced Jane's eyes was so painful that she kept them partially closed as she followed Creedmoor, who guided them through a lobby and into an elevator. After ascending what felt like about six floors the doors parted and Creedmoor pulled them into a long, bright hallway that made Jane squint again. A few dozen steps later he let go of Jane's hand long enough to swipe a plastic card through a slot on a numbered door and push it open.
It had been a long day, Jane thought as Creedmoor waved her and Allie inside before securing the door. Jane remembered how she'd arrived at the hospital that morning on her off day to spend a few hours doing research at the computer. It seemed so long ago. A lot had happened, most of it bad.
Ordinarily Duane Rockingham wouldn't have been very happy that his cell phone had gone off at just past two o'clock in the morning. This time was an exception. He was in bed, but hadn't gone to sleep yet. All he could think about was Jane Havelock and her family and he had no doubt that this phone call was about exactly that. Without turning the light on he felt around for the phone in time to answer it before it stopped ringing.
"You're not going to believe this!" he heard Boone say even before he'd lifted the phone all the way to his ear. "Duane? You there?"
"Yeah, I'm here. What happened? Is it about Jane?"
"Sure is. Her husband, actually. Or his car. It was found in Atlantic City. Somebody put a bomb in it and blew it up. Five other cars burned up with it."
"Jesus God," Rockingham said. "This is crazy. Was anybody in it?"
"No," Boone answered. "It was empty. A 2008 Audi A4."
"That's what he drives, all right. But you already knew that," Rockingham said. "The neighbors at their house were talking about it. They said it was sitting in the driveway during that fire at the house. A lot of fires happening all of a sudden, huh?"
"Two in a space of three hours," agreed Boone.
"And how in the world did it get to Atlantic City?" Rockingham asked. "Actually, come to think of it, they all said that they saw Jane drive that car away from the house. Not the husband. What's his name again?"
"Steven Havelock. Age thirty-three."
"So it was probably Jane that had the car in Atlantic City, not Steven," Rockingham surmised. "But what the hell was she doing in Atlantic City a few hours after her house burned down? Whatever it is, it ain't gambling or partying."
"Not on the same night her house burned down," Boone agreed. "There's more, Duane. They found two bodies near the car. Nobody we know."
"No? Who were they?"
"I couldn't get an ID. It was two kids. Late teens. One, boy, one girl. The boy was shot and the girl died of blunt trauma to the head. Duane, they said her skull was completely crushed. She wasn't just killed. She was brutalized. Somebody split her head open like a coconut."
"I'll bet it was just a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time," Rockingham said. "At least I know what I'm dealing with now."
"We need to give the AC police a call about this, Duane," Boone said. "We have to tell them what we know."
"And what exactly is that?" Rockingham asked. "What do we know?"
"Come on, Duane. We know who killed those two kids. We have to tell them about this man Creedmoor. He's a killer on the loose."
"Not until I get down there. I owe this guy and I'm going to take him down myself if it's the last thing I do."
"Duane, you---"
"Anything else, Joe?" Rockingham asked as he hunted for some clothes.
Boone sighed. "Well, there's this. I did some checking. Creedmoor owns a condo in AC. It's not under his own name but I was able to trace it. Does the name 'Robert Manteo' mean anything to you?"
"That name means a hell of a lot to me. Where was the car when it burned?"
"In the Tropicana parking garage. Creedmoor's condo is at the Atlantic Towers. It's close by," Boone said. "But of course, in AC, everything's close by."
"Here's what I think happened. Creedmoor took the little girl with him. He probably went to his place in Atlantic City. Then he used her to lure the mother. That's why the car ended up there. The car that we know she was driving." Rockingham found the pen and pad that he kept on the nightstand. "The biggest question is where the hell the husband is. Okay, let me have the condo address." He scratched it out on the pad and slid the pen behind his ear. "I'm going to Atlantic City."
"Okay, Duane. I'm only on for another hour but I'll stick around after that. If I see anything else I'll let you know."
"Thanks, Joe, I appreciate it," Rockingham said. "Hey, I tell you what. Let's do everything by cell phone instead of regular channels. I don't want to hear any jurisdiction crap from every cop between here and AC who hears us talking. We'll just keep it to ourselves as long as we can."
"Will do, Duane, will do."
~~~
"Eddie, it's Steve. Were you up?"
"Dude, it's the middle of the night."
"Sorry, but I've got problems," Steve said. "The caveman kidnapped Jane and Allie."
"Is that all? Take two aspirins and call me in the morning."
"Eddie, I'm not joking. He burned our house down and took Allie. Now he's got Jane."
"Not funny, man. Are you drunk?"
"Eddie, I'm not trying to be funny. Come on, this is real. Help me."
"I'm going to pretend you're serious," Eddie said. "He burned your house down? Did you call the police?"
"He warned us not to. Last I heard they were at the Trop in AC."
"They all went to Atlantic City? You're a bad storyteller. That's the best you could do?"
"Go check out my house if you don't believe me. Then get over here and pick me up. I'm at the Sea View Motel in Absecon without a car, so hurry your ass up. Come on, Eddie, I need help. I swear to God I'm not bullshitting you. I swear to God. I don't know what to do. Just hurry."
~~~
His unofficial case file was growing. After getting dressed and setting off for Atlantic City, Rockingham pulled out the grubby sheaf of papers and tossed them onto the seat beside him. As he drove he scanned each under the tiny dashboard light until he found the one with cell phone numbers for Steve and Jane. It was a shot in the dark but maybe he could learn something with some quick phone calls. Maybe, just maybe, things weren't as bad as they seemed and Jane would laugh at him for worrying so much and driving around for half the night. Of course, even if that was the case, he reminded himself, he still had to account for the house that burned down, a firebombed car and two corpses in an Atlantic City parking garage.
He tried her number first. It rang and rang with no answer. Just before it cut into voicemail he hung up, rechecked the number, and dialed again. The same thing happened. Looks like Jane is busy, he thought. He looked on the sheet for Steve's number and dialed it, expecting the same result, but was surprised when somebody answered it almost immediately.
"What the fuck's going on!" an angry voice demanded. "Where are they? I'm coming after you! You're a dead motherfucker when I find you!"
Rockingham glanced at the phone, which of course offered no explanation for what he was hearing. What the hell is this? "Hello? Mr. Havelock?"
"Cut the shit, Creedmoor!" For the first time in his life Rockingham actually felt a tingle run from the base of his spine all the way into his brain. He said Creedmoor. I'm not wrong. I'm on to something.
"Mr. Havelock! Listen to me!" he said. "It's not Creedmoor! It's Sergeant Duane Rockingham from the Hammonton Police Department. I know what's going on with you and Creedmoor. Jane's been keeping me up to date. We've been working together on this. Where are you?"
There was a momentary pause. "Wait. Who are you?" Steve demanded. "You know where she is?"
"There's no time for me to explain. Not now. I think your wife and daughter are in danger."
"No kidding. How---"
"There's no time," Rockingham repeated. "I'll explain later. Are you safe? You're not at the house are you? Tell me where you are. I'm coming to get you." He flipped on the lights and siren and jammed his foot onto the accelerator even before Steve had a chance to answer.
Later, as he sped toward the shore as fast as the cruiser would take him, he laughed to himself. He's all the way down in Absecon? I guess there was time to talk after all.
~~~
Jane recognized the ring tone of her cell phone as she lay stretched out on the bed. Got to be Steve, she thought. If only she could find a way to answer it. But Creedmoor was lying on the bed next to her and it didn't sound like he was asleep either. Besides, she was lashed tightly to the bed in at least four different places. Nothing had happened since they'd arrived except that they'd been tied up and the lights were turned out. For an hour she'd listened to Allie crying on the other bed, where she was presumably restrained in the same way. It was a relief to Jane when her daughter finally cried herself to sleep.
"Should I get it?" asked Creedmoor. "Nah. It's probably not for me," he said, snickering at his own joke. Jane squeezed her eyes closed as tightly as she could, wishing it was all a bad dream. But of course it wasn't. She knew that for sure when the phone started ringing all over again.
~~~
There wasn't just one but two anxious-looking thirtyish men waiting outside the battered motel when Sergeant Rockingham barreled into the parking lot. Certain that one of them was Steve Havelock, Rockingham pulled the cruiser into a spot near where they were standing and jumped out. "Havelock?" he asked.
One of the men moved closer. "That's me. I'm Steve Havelock."
"Duane Rockingham. Holy hell!" Rockingham exclaimed when he saw blood seeping from a deep gash on Steve's forehead. "How did that happen?"
"Manteo cracked me with a can of paint. Knocked me out. It still hurts like hell."
"It's already turning blue. No way you don't have a concussion. When was this?" Rockingham asked.
Steve sighed. "I don't even know where to start. It was at my house this afternoon."
"Before the fire?"
"You know about that?" Steve asked. "Who are you?"
"We've got to get to Atlantic City," Rockingham said. "Let's go. We'll talk on the way."
"What good is that going to do? We've got to call the police!" Steve argued. "We're running out of time!"
"I am the police," Rockingham said.
"You're one man!" Steve said. "We need the whole force!"
"The police don't know this man. They can't handle him."
"And you can?"
"I have an advantage. I know how to get at him. They don't. He'll see them coming and that'll be it."
"You sound just like Jane. She laid that same bullshit on me three or four hours ago. Now she's gone, too."
"Who's our friend here?" Rockingham asked.
"This is my buddy, Eddie Durham."
"Okay," Rockingham said with a nod. "You guys can call me Duane."
"Jane called me about an hour ago," Steve said. "She said they're going to Maine. I think we should call the police."
"Hmm. Back to where this all started," Rockingham said. "You know, it's starting to make some sense. Today's the fifteenth, right? Tomorrow is exactly five years since the accident. He must have had this planned all along."
"You know an awful lot about this," Eddie observed.
"I'll try to explain why on the way to AC. Let's go."
"They could be anywhere between here and Maine!" Steve interrupted. "I'm calling the police!"
"He's not taking them to Maine," Rockingham said. "If he was, why would he tip us off? It's a smokescreen."
"We can't be sure," Steve answered.
"I can," Rockingham told him. "But even if I'm wrong, Maine is six or seven hours away. If we don't find them here we have plenty of time to call up to Gorham and tell them to be on the lookout."
"Gorham?" Eddie asked.
"That's the town where the accident happened," Rockingham explained. "If he really is planning some kind of celebration in Maine, that's where he'll do it."
"How the fuck do you know so much about this?" Steve demanded. "Who are you again? You're really creeping me out."
"Don't worry about it for now. Who's got a car?"
"I do," Eddie volunteered.
"Good. We'll take that."
"Why aren't we taking the squad car?" Steve asked.
"Same reason we're not calling in the ACPD. Because we're going undercover. I don't want to give this guy any clue that anybody knows where he is. Even some lone sergeant from Hammonton." He took a look at the blue Dodge minivan that Eddie was unlocking. "Well, if we're going undercover this is as good as it gets."
"Maybe you're right. He did tell Jane not to tell the police," Steve allowed. "Or else."
"Of course. He's got leverage and he knows how to use it." Rockingham walked over to the cruiser and opened the trunk. After rummaging around he pulled out a duffel bag and some equipment before returning to the rear of the van. "Hey, can you pop the hatch open?" He stowed the gear in the back of the van and they were off.
"Do you know where you're going?" Rockingham asked Eddie.
"Downtown AC, right?"
"Yes sir," Rockingham answered before turning to Steve in the back seat. "You know who this guy is, right? How much do you know about what's happening here?"
"How much do you know?" Steve retorted.
"This is no time for a pissing contest," Rockingham warned. "Tell me what you know."
"Jane called me this afternoon about it. He's a guy I used to work with on a drug project. Narvatek. I guess it was just dumb luck that we hired him to work at the house. Who'd have thought he was working as a handyman now?"
"Dumb luck?" Rockingham asked. "You still don't get it, son! This is not a coincidence!"
"It has to be," Steve countered. "It was completely random. I can prove it. I was at Home Depot the same day he was. That's where it all started. We both just happened to be there that day and I hired him. That's all it was."
"You're underestimating him. That's what he wanted you to think," Rockingham said. "But it was all part of his plan. He probably followed you around for months looking for a way in. You know about the accident in Maine, right?"
"Jane told me about that today, too. First I ever heard of it. Creedmoor told her it was my fault. If it wasn't for me he'd have been there with them. Then somehow they wouldn't have crashed," he added sarcastically.
"He said straight up that he holds you responsible for it?" Rockingham asked. "She didn't mention that to me. That explains everything."
"Wait a minute," Eddie said. "Are you saying this is the guy from Narvatek? The caveman?"
"That's what Jane says," Steve answered. "I can't recognize the guy at all."
"He's added a hundred pounds of muscle, shaved his head and he's got a foot-long beard," Rockingham pointed out. "Of course you don't recognize him."
"But why would he blame me?"
"You're joking, right?" Eddie asked. "Why wouldn't he? You told me yourself. You lied through your teeth and blamed the whole fiasco on him. His company folded. You wrecked his career. Now it turns out that his entire family died because he wasn't with them because he was busy defending himself against your lies. How could he not blame you?"
"And now he's got your wife and daughter. I guess his plan's kind of obvious," Rockingham said. "He wants revenge."
"Okay. That's my end of it. So let me ask you this," Steve said to Rockingham. "It's the middle of the night and you're in a minivan thirty miles from your jurisdiction with two guys you've never met before. You're not even on duty. What are you doing here? It isn't your problem. I appreciate it and all, but I'm confused. Why do you care?"
Rockingham stared out the window for a moment before he answered. "Your wife called me. Does it really matter?"
"I just want to understand what we're doing here," Steve explained.
"We're rescuing your wife and daughter from a madman," Rockingham volunteered.
"That part I get. So how long before we're there?" Steve asked.
~~~
"Rob?" Jane said quietly into the darkness after Creedmoor had returned from the bathroom where she'd heard him vomiting.
"What?" he answered immediately.
"Are you getting worse?"
"I'm good."
"I kind of thought we'd gotten to be friends," she said.
"We did," he answered.
"Then why are you doing this?"
"It's not about you," he told her. "Or your daughter."
"Of course it is. We're the ones you're going to kill, aren't we? That makes it all about Allie and me. It's about revenge, isn't it?"
"Shhh," he said. "I don't want Allie to hear."
"She's dead to the world," Jane told him, immediately regretting her choice of words.
"Everybody dies," Creedmoor said. "I'll be dead of this tumor in a few weeks."
"You don't have a tumor. You're sick from all the steroids you took."
"She wanted me to."
"She did not," Jane snapped. "No wife would want her husband to poison himself to death, even after she's gone."
"I'm sure of it."
She fought the rope until she was able to wriggle to her side. "What was your wife like?"
"Jess was an angel. Always there for me. Never a cross word, no matter what. There's never been another like her. And never will be."
"How about your daughter? Sara was her name?"
"She was so sweet. A lot like Allie. I was the luckiest man in the world." He stopped to clear his throat. "And I knew it, too. I wasn't one of those assholes who doesn't know what he's got until it's gone. I wasn't like your husband. I knew what I had."
"I'm so sorry for what happened," Jane said.
"I should have been there," he said. His voice was huskier now. "If I'd been there it never would have happened. Jess couldn't drive on snow. There wasn't even supposed to be any snow."
"It wasn't your fault, Rob. You've tortured yourself for all these years but it wasn't your fault."
"You know whose fault it is, don't you? Tell me, why do you think I had to stay home to defend my company when Jess and Sara headed off to Maine? Who do you think it was that was wrecking my company? I'll wreck him!"
~~~
"There's one thing I still don't understand," Eddie said after listening in silence. "I'm not getting this."
"Okay, but keep your speed up, man," Steve told him. "We're almost there."
"You knew they were in Atlantic City because Creedmoor told Jane," Eddie said, glancing at Steve. "But how did you know, Sergeant? And why did you know?"
"My partner back at headquarters picked up something on the wire," Rockingham explained. "I didn't want to mention this yet, but Steve's Audi exploded in a parking garage. That's how I knew that at least one of you was there."
"What? She took off in that car just a little while ago!" Steve said.
"Relax. She wasn't in it at the time. Nobody was. And my partner back at headquarters did some digging," he continued. "Turns out that Creedmoor owns a condo on the strip. I'll bet my bottom dollar that's where he's got them. Because as far as he's concerned nobody knows about the place. That's why he told Jane to meet him at the Tropicana, and why he made her tell you they were going to Maine. To throw us off the trail."
"What if he's got them in the condo?" Steve asked. "What's the plan?"
"We're going to have to talk about that. It could be a tricky deal, especially for an off-duty sixty-year old cop and the likes of you two. But that's exactly where I think they are."
~~~
"Rob, did you do what they said you did?" Jane asked.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, did you turn off the machines?"
"That's none of your business," he said.
"Yes it is. I'm going to die over this. I'd say that makes it my business. Did you do it?"
"Yes!" he yelled. Jane tensed, hoping Allie wouldn't wake up. She was much happier wherever she was in her head at the moment.
"But why?"
"Because they were already dead. They were bodies without a mind. Once they got connected to those machines they would have lived forever that way. They had machines for eating, for breathing, for going to the bathroom, you name it. That's not living. I wasn't going to sit by and let anybody do that to them. I didn't care what the doctors and lawyers said. That's not living."
"Why were you so sure they wouldn't come out of it?" Jane asked. "I mean, you didn't give them much time." He didn't answer. Jane thought by the uneven sound of his breathing that he was trying not to cry. "Maybe all of this didn't have to happen," she said softly.
"I gave them three months. There wasn't any hope. You didn't see them," Creedmoor said. "My daughter's face was so swollen that she looked like a baked ham. I could hardly find her eyes. There wasn't a doctor anywhere that said she was coming back. Not a one of them."
~~~
All three men looked ahead at the shining Atlantic City skyline. "We've got some decisions to make," Rockingham said. "Do we go it alone or do we beg the local police for help? You already know how I feel."
"I say the more, the merrier," Eddie said. "If anybody's asking me. Let's bring in anybody we can."
"Okay, but here's what we're looking at," Rockingham warned. "First off, we have to convince them that we're not a bunch of crackpots from the mainland. That could take hours. Hours we ain't got. To them I'm just some country boy with a pretty badge. And then, if we talk them into it, we have to hope they can move quietly. But they won't, because they won't understand what they're dealing with. If they go in like a herd of elephants, well, that's not going to work. But I don't think we could talk them into it anyway. Not soon enough. They'd have to call supervisors, and their supervisors. It would take a long time."
"What's plan B?" Steve asked.
"I've got a few pistols in my bag," Rockingham told him. "You guys ever handle a gun?"
"Wow," Eddie remarked. "Shouldn't you deputize us or something?"
"You're kidding, right?" Rockingham asked.
"I've been to the shooting range a few times," Steve said.
"Not me," Eddie said. "All I know is what I see on TV. Point and shoot."
"Ever heard of a Glock?" Rockingham asked. "As in Gaston Glock?"
"It's a handgun, right?" Steve asked. "Automatic? I don't know what a Gaston Glock is."
Rockingham smiled. "He's the guy who invented it," he said to Steve. "And it's not automatic, it's semi-automatic. That shouldn't make a difference to you. What worries me is the beating you took. You've been holding your gut ever since I got here, and you took a pretty good shot to the head. Can you shoot straight? Are you up to this?"
"Definitely. You have Glocks?" Steve asked incredulously.
"Lots of police departments use Glocks. That's what's in the bag. Three of them."
"Well, I tell you one thing," Steve said. "I hope I get to use it tonight."
"I hope you do, too," Rockingham told him. "Sounds like we're going it alone, then."
They were across the bay and on the island now. It was the middle of the night but the city was lit up and the casinos were busier than ever, Rockingham knew. Atlantic Towers turned out to be a grubby brick building jammed between two sparkling hotels. They drove around the block twice to get a feel for where they were and then parked in the potholed lot in back. "Now what?" asked Eddie.
"Damn," Rockingham said. "It's bright as daytime here. But that shouldn't matter. We'll be fine once we're inside. In a small condo unit we have just as good a chance as a squad of police. If he doesn't know we're coming in, that is."
"And if he hasn't already slipped away to Maine," Steve added glumly.
"He's here. You can bet on it."
"So what's the plan?" Eddie said. "We sneak up, find the room and kick the door down?"
Rockingham snorted. "Kick the door down? This isn't some Claude Van Damme movie. By the time you broke your foot kicking at the door he'd either be gone or have a shotgun in your face. I brought a battering ram. Forty thousand pounds of force per swing. If the inside of this old barn is anything like the outside, the door should go down easy. Then we rush in while we still have surprise on our side."
"Then what?" Eddie asked.
"We have no idea what we'll find in there," Rockingham warned. "It might get ugly. It might already be ugly. If we can, we take this guy out. Any way we can. And that's the plan."
Nobody spoke for a moment. "Do you think it'll work?" Steve finally asked.
"Fifty-fifty chance," Rockingham replied. "It's the best shot we have. I'm going in. You boys have to decide for yourselves."
~~~
"It's got to be the sixteenth by now," Jane said. "What are you waiting for?"
"I'm not a murderer. Jess and Sara weren't murdered. It has to be the same," Creedmoor told her in a hushed voice.
"The same as what?" Jane asked.
"The same as how they died."
"Why? What's the difference?"
"He has to feel like I did," he insisted. "He has to feel like maybe there was something he could have done. If I did it now, there's no way he could have stopped it. I want him close, but not close enough. That way the hurt will be the same."
"My husband doesn't love me the way you loved Jess," Jane told him. "It still won't be the same."
"I think it will."
"All right," Jane said, trying to stay calm as she discussed her own death. "So it has to be a car accident. Why not just do it now, before you get caught?"
"A car crash on some dark road that nobody even notices for hours? Jess and Sara were better than that. If you hadn't brought in that cop it would have been simpler for everybody. I could have waited another day instead of this mess."
"What about Steve?" Jane asked. "You're not going to kill him, are you? Because you want him to end up like you."
"He'll wish he was dead when it's all over. Nobody wants to live after burying their wife and little girl."
"That's not an answer," Jane countered.
"Yes, it is. I told you everything you need to know."
It shocked Jane that her captor felt calm enough to sleep but it sounded like that was his intention. In a way she was envious. She'd been awake for nearly twenty-four hours and could use the sleep too, but that just wasn't going to happen. She didn't even try. What she really wanted were answers. Maybe she could get him talking again. It couldn't hurt to try.
"When did you find time to put a bomb in my husband's car?"
She felt the bed move as he changed positions. "I was at your house for what, six or seven weeks straight? There was plenty of time."
"Why did you do it? You already said you weren't planning on killing Steve."
"I'm not. I had my reasons," he said. "I had to be prepared for any situation. Look at it this way. I had to use the bomb, didn't I? It's a good thing it was in place. Good for me, at least. It worked out just right and it was easy. The hardest part was keeping track of everything I'd wired."
"Like what? What else?"
"I guess it doesn't matter now. For starters, there's about twenty-thousand dollars worth of surveillance equipment in your house. Was, anyway. It probably all burned up."
"Thanks to you.," she said. "What kind of surveillance equipment?"
"Phone taps. Microphones. I listened to every phone call and read every email. I even sent some. I installed keystroke recorders on the computers. Every key you and your husband hit was emailed to me."
"Even on my laptop?"
"Yes. And your husband's. Especially your husband's."
"Wait, is this how you made phone calls using my phone number?" she asked.
"No, no, that's different. That's called spoofing," he explained. "I can do it just by using a phone card from CVS. Anybody can do that."
There was a brief silence before Jane spoke again. "You were spying on us the whole time. Is that what you're telling me?"
"It is. See, that's why I was there, Jane. Not on you, so much," he said. "It was your husband that I was interested in. Everything he took away from me I'm going to take from him. That means his career and everything that matters. It's not so simple to pull something like this off. I had to have information, Jane. I had to know how to take his life apart."
Jane sat up. "What do you mean? What about his career?"
"What do you think I mean? I mean his job. He was a shoo-in for that promotion. But he didn't get it, did he?"
She gasped. "How do you know about that?"
"Come on. Aren't you paying attention? How do I know about it? I did it. Did you think he lost his job all by himself? He had a lot of help. From me. I had access to his work email and his personal email. I had access to his computer accounts and phone mail at work. I had access to his cell phone. I read his messages. I sent messages to him. I sent messages from him. What do you think I did with those gadgets I installed? Think about everything that happened. I trashed files and programs at work. He told you all about it. You probably thought he was lying when he said he couldn't understand what was happening, didn't you? Well, he wasn't lying. And he made some bad guesses. I knew he would."
"So Cindy had nothing to do with any of that?"
"Of course not. She's a nice woman. She'd never do anything like that. Wouldn't you agree?"
"You really are a monster, you know that? And you were doing this all along?"
"Payback. It was payback."
"Payback? I trusted you. I tried to be your friend. I did nothing to you."
"It's not about you. It never was."
"It is now." She paused. "What would Jessica think about what you're doing?"
"Jessica? She's dead, Jane."
"I know. But what if she wasn't? Or what if she's somewhere watching you? What would she think?"
"She's dead. That's what this is all about."
~~~
"Come over here for a second," Rockingham said to Eddie after they parked. "You're about to get your assignment." They walked to the back of the van where Rockingham opened the back hatch. It took both hands for him to pull it out. Eddie bent for a closer look at the tool, a two-foot long black iron cylinder with heavy duty handles welded to the top. "That's for breaking down doors, right?"
"You got it," Rockingham answered. "Works every time."
"I've seen them on---"
"Don't say it," Rockingham interrupted. "I don't want to know. Since you don't want to handle a gun you're going to be the one to use this. Ever knock a door down?"
"Doesn't look too complicated," Eddie said as Rockingham passed the ram to him. "Whoa. It's heavy," he grunted after taking it by the handles.
"It's supposed to be. It weighs about forty pounds." He dug out what looked like a portable spotlight and stabbed a button with a finger several times, temporarily bathing the van in flashes of light. "This too."
"Damn," Eddie said. "That's bright."
"That's the point, in a way. It's going to be lighting our way in and it's also going to blind whoever we shine it at. You'll break down the door, aim the light and try to stay out of the way while you're doing it." He smiled when he saw the worried look on Eddie's face. "You'll be fine," Rockingham promised. He pulled the duffel bag out by its two looped handles. "Close that hatch, will you?" he told Steve, who'd wandered back to join them behind the van.
Steve and Eddie followed Rockingham to the back of the building. Strangely, their surroundings got darker as they got closer. By the time they reached a grease-spattered loading dock it actually felt like it was nighttime again. "One of you hop up there and check that door. We need a quiet way inside."
Using both hands Steve vaulted onto the cement pad and tugged on the door, which didn't budge. "Nope. Locked."
"Maybe we should try this," Eddie said, hoisting the battering ram a few inches above his waist.
"Won't work on this door," Rockingham answered. "It has to be a door that opens in. And that's not the worst problem you'd have. This is a steel door set in brick. It would take a lot more force than this ram can bring. And who knows who can see us."
"Why can't we just go around front?" Steve asked. "We need to get going. Who knows what's going on up in the condo?"
"Here's the thing. I don't think we want to walk in the front door with all this equipment. There might be some kind of security guard, or a checkin desk. You can bet there are video cameras all over the place," Rockingham said. "I have about twenty reasons. One of us will go in and try to find this door and open it up from the inside. Then we'll all sneak in this way. I think it should be me. If anybody says anything I'll flash my badge at them."
~~~
"How about Facebook?" Jane asked.
"What about it?" Creedmoor asked.
"Did you do anything on Facebook?"
"Maybe," he said.
Jane thought about that and decided that meant that he had. Did she dare ask for details? It was important enough to her that she wanted to. He didn't make her wait.
"I know what you're talking about. Yeah, I was Mike Albemarle. I made the whole thing up."
Jane drew in a breath. "You mean, my husband didn't..." her voice trailed off. She couldn't bring herself to say it with Allie in the room, even if she was asleep.
"Not that I know of, but I wouldn't put it past him."
"That changes things," Jane said quietly. "But---what about the pictures? I saw pictures."
"Those took about an hour in Photoshop," Creedmoor said. "It's the digital age, Jane. You can't believe everything you see anymore. Come on, now."
"You got me with that," was all she could think of to say.
~~~
Rockingham left them on the loading dock with the guns and equipment. He walked about two blocks before coming to a break between buildings that allowed him to get to the boardwalk. It was too early for sunrise but he could see a sliver of light over the ocean's horizon toward the east. Despite his earlier insistence he wondered if Creedmoor and his hostages -- because that's what they were now -- were still in the building at all.
As he doubled back toward Atlantic Towers after reaching the boardwalk, Rockingham prepared himself for any number of scenarios once he entered the building. What he feared most was a reception desk, or even more, an armed guard. After stepping inside, however, he saw immediately that he had nothing to worry about. Except for two young women who seemed as anxious to avoid contact as he did, the lobby was empty. Careful to keep the ocean at his back in order to retain his sense of direction, he walked past three elevators and through an unmarked door.
Except for a faint orange glow in the distance there was no light behind the door, which had jerked closed so quickly that it almost hit him. After his eyes adjusted he could make out a long, cluttered corridor. The orange light ahead could only mean one thing -- he was on the right track. Inching slowly forward, stepping carefully around everything his toes made contact with, he could see that the glow was coming from a clear pane that was about a foot square. As he closed in he saw two figures in the darkness on the other side of the glass. He'd found the door.
"That was fast," Eddie said as Rockingham pushed it open. "Was anybody around?"
"Who cares?" Steve said as he pushed his way inside. "Come on, let's go!"
"Grab the stuff," Rockingham told Eddie, who passed the bag and light inside before entering with the ram in his hands. He and Steve followed Rockingham back up the way he'd just come, an easier trek than it had been coming the other way after he flicked a light switch and lit up the hallway. Before they emerged into the lobby the sergeant told them to leave the equipment. "We need to find the stairs. No use getting spotted carrying those things around while we're looking. But keep the guns with us. We'll come back for the rest."
They entered the lobby and wandered quickly past the elevators. A man in a knit ski cap burst out of a door a few yards ahead, startling the three men. Rockingham nodded silently at his partners when he saw the stairway behind the closing door. Eddie went back for the ram and light without being told, and they began ascending.
"Fifth floor, right?" Steve asked.
"It's number 535," Rockingham said. "Must be the fifth." The effort of speaking took away his breath. When he stopped on the landing between the second and third floors Eddie stopped with him, but not Steve. Seconds later he was out of sight, although they could hear his feet pounding their way upwards. "Step lightly," Rockingham called up to him.
"I wish we could find a door to practice on," Eddie said. "I hope I don't screw this up."
"What's to screw up?" Rockingham said between breaths. "Swing it hard. It's almost impossible not to knock it in. I'll show you the sweet spot."
"Right on the knob or the lock, right?"
"Hell no. Right above it. You're not trying to break the lock. You're trying to break everything else that's around the lock," Rockingham explained. "The lock is your friend. It holds everything in place real firm so the door and the jamb will shatter. Then the door flies open. Just make sure you swing that thing hard and hit where I tell you to hit."
"Are you guys coming?" Steve whispered from above. "What are we waiting for?"
"Shhh," Rockingham hissed. Nobody spoke again until they met up on the fifth floor. Eddie, saddled with the forty pound battering ram, was huffing and puffing as much as Rockingham when they finally stopped. Before anybody had a chance to talk Rockingham put his finger to his lips, and then began whispering. "I'll lead the way. If anybody's in the hall just walk right past them. It'll be too late to abort. When we find the door," he said, looking at Eddie, "I'll point to the sweet spot and then stand back. You break it open, drop the ram, and point the light into the room. Make sure you give us room. We're going in hard as soon as the door's open, so hustle with that light."
Eddie grabbed the ram and practiced the swinging motion a few times. "It's not so bad," he whispered. "I can do this." While he was examining the spotlight Rockingham opened the duffel bag and pulled out a sleek black pistol.
"Did you catch that?" he asked Steve. "Once the door's open it's speed that matters most. We want to move fast before he knows what hit him. You cover any rooms on the left and I'll take the right." Steve nodded without speaking.
"Meet your Glock," he told Steve as he handed it to him. "It's been locked and cocked this whole time. Bad habit. Guess I was in too much of a hurry." He went down on one knee and pulled an identical one from the bag. As he pushed a button on the side of the gun he swung the other hand below the hand grip in time to catch the shiny black magazine as it flew out. He dropped the magazine into the bag and picked up an identical one. "That one was empty," he explained to Steve. "Not this one." Even before his eyes had returned to the weapon he'd jammed the magazine firmly up into the hollow hand grip, driving it with the heel of his hand until he heard a click. Then he pulled the sliding column back along the top of the gun before releasing it with a snap. "Good to go," he said. "Everybody ready?"
Steve and Eddie nodded. Eddie held the ram in one hand and the light in the other, while Steve held his Glock with both hands, one finger on the trigger, aiming it at the floor between his feet.
~~~
Whatever the thump was that Jane heard, Creedmoor obviously heard it as well. The bed jostled as his body went rigid. Without a word he sat up and disappeared into the darkness. She heard the metallic scrabble of locks being undone followed by the squeak of a door. Moments later the sounds repeated themselves in reverse order. She wasn't sure what she'd been hoping for, but she couldn't help feeling disappointed when he returned and crawled back onto the bed without a word.
~~~
"Once we're in the hallway," Rockingham whispered, "We don't stop for nobody. Got it?" He didn't wait for an answer, instead pulling the hallway door open and stepping through. He held his weapon discreetly in a firing position, rapidly checking both directions. Eddie was next, followed by Steve, who held his gun the same way Rockingham had.
Nobody else was in the well-lit corridor. They padded along the worn, grimy carpet as Rockingham checked door numbers. Only a few seconds had elapsed when he stopped and nodded at a door without making a sound. When Eddie was closer Rockingham pointed to a spot a few inches above the keyhole. "Door looks like it's made of balsa wood," he whispered in Eddie's ear. "You'll just have to give it a good tap. Go, boy!"
Eddie positioned the floodlight carefully on the floor before grasping the handles of the ram. He looked at Rockingham and then Steve, who both nodded impatiently with their guns at the ready. After setting his feet the same way he did before a tee shot on the golf course he pulled the ram back and swung.
The door didn't break open so much as it splintered along a line running from the deadbolt toward the ceiling. In an instant the door jack-knifed along this fault line as slices of decades-old wood fell away. Rockingham ran at the shattered door before lifting his leg awkwardly and kicking it the rest of the way open. Chunks of wood sprayed from the point of contact. The door, still attached firmly on its hinges, flew into the room and slammed into the darkness. Without being prodded Eddie dropped the ram and scooped up the light in one deft motion. Its blinding light filled the space beyond the door instantly after he worked the button with his thumb. Rockingham was already in the apartment, having stepped across the threshold even before Eddie lighted the way. Steve, holding the pistol out in front of his body, was on his heels.
They stormed though a narrow passageway into a living room and found nobody. Rockingham directed Steve and Eddie into the kitchen before darting into a bathroom, leading the way with his gun. His mind was racing as he moved. At his age and with two novices watching his back, he knew they were in over their heads, but he had no regrets. After determining that the bathroom was empty he returned to the living room where Steve and Eddie joined him almost immediately.
"In there!" Steve yelled as he waved at a closed door across the room. Without waiting for them he ran across the room and threw his shoulder at the door, which gave way easily. He stumbled and fell into the room. By the time he was back on his feet Rockingham was there with him, as was Eddie with the light. The armed men swept the room with their pistols but there was nothing in there but a stripped, water-stained mattress on a metal frame. Steve charged at a closet and yanked the door open savagely, firing several shots into the darkness before Eddie caught up and filled the small space with a gazillion watts worth of light. Except for some empty clothes hangers the closet was as empty as the bedroom itself.
"Shit!" Steve yelled, his gun hand flopping to his thigh. "Shit! They fucking got away!" He turned helplessly to Eddie and Rockingham, who were staring into the closet. Each man collapsed into a sitting position against the walls. Eddie wiped sweat from his forehead after putting the light between his feet. Steve inspected the back of his hand, which was rubbed raw.
"I forgot to tell you to keep your hands away from the top of the gun," Rockingham said as he dragged three empty shell casings toward himself with a foot. "That top piece flies back every time it fires, to kick out the empties. Looks like it caught you on the thumb. Next time you'll know. What were you shooting at anyway?"
"I don't know," Steve said. "I didn't mean to. It just went off. You think there'll be a next time? I fucking hope so. Where'd they go? How'd they get out of here?"
"Yeah, there'll be a next time," Rockingham said. He slipped the casings into a pocket after pulling himself to his feet.. "It'll be soon, too. I have this feeling that he wants us to find him. It'll be in a place of his choosing. He's got something planned. He won't be ready, though. Even if he knows you're here he doesn't know about me."
"So what do we do now to find them?" Eddie asked. He and Steve looked at Rockingham.
"First thing we have to do is get out of here," Rockingham said after walking to the window and pushing aside the slats of the blinds for a look. "You can bet somebody heard those shots. This place is going to get hot real quick. Let's go. There's nothing here for us anyway."
~~~
"Must be close to sunup," Creedmoor said after returning from the door. "That was our complimentary copy of USA Today. It's almost time. We'll be on the move soon. It's starting to happen."
"I need to go to the bathroom," Jane said.
"We'll take care of that just before we leave," Creedmoor told her. "I need to keep it simple."
"My period's starting," she explained, expecting that like most men, he'd make whatever accommodations were needed after hearing those words. "I really need to get in there right now."
He groaned, but she could feel him sitting up and wrestling himself off the bed. The ropes slackened. "Okay. You're loose. She slid toward the foot of the bed. "Listen, Jane. No games." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "If you don't make things difficult I might leave Allie out of this. She's just a bystander, same as Sara."
Jane's heart leaped but she didn't want to give her captor the satisfaction of seeing her joy, just in case he didn't mean it. "I need some things from my pocketbook," she said without changing her expression. There was enough dawn light filtering in around the drapes that she could see it on a chest of drawers.
"I'll get it," Creedmoor said before Jane's feet had reached the floor. He brought it to the bed but poked through it with his fingers before handing it over. Without another word she shuffled through the darkness into the bathroom. It probably won't matter but I have to try something, she thought as she fought to settle her trembling hands.
We need to go," Rockingham said again while moving toward the door. "We made a lot of noise. You can bet that at least one of our neighbors here called the cops." When nobody followed him he turned back. "Look, I'm as disappointed as you are. We struck out. But sitting up here moping ain't gonna' do us any good except get us arrested. Let's go! Snap out of it! This ain't over yet!"
Steve picked up the light on the way out, leaving the battering ram for Eddie. The hallway was as quiet as it had been a few minutes earlier. The three men hurried silently to the stairwell and began the trip down without speaking. Their escape path was clear until they reached the lobby and saw four uniformed officers about to enter from the boardwalk. "We'll go out the same way we came in. Keep moving, men," Rockingham ordered. He gently pushed his partners through the unmarked door before falling in behind them. Hopefully there's nobody waiting for us out back, he thought. "Be sure to take a look around before you open that door," he called ahead.
"It looks clear to me," Eddie answered, but he waited for Rockingham to come forward for a second look. They all breathed easier when they were sitting safely in the minivan a minute later with no law in sight.
~~~
Before they left the hotel room Creedmoor reminded Jane that he was thinking of allowing Allie to escape. "You remember what's in my pocket, right?" he asked. Jane remembered. "Don't make me use it."
Allie, now completely free of adoration for Uncle Rob, hadn't uttered a word since being roused and untied a few minutes earlier. Jane had spent the last half hour hugging her as often as she thought she could without irritating Creedmoor. Now, as Creedmoor led them to the elevators after pulling the room door closed behind them, Jane held her daughter's hand tight. She knew the time for goodbyes might be coming but maybe Allie could be saved. "It'll be okay," she whispered, wishing it was even remotely true.
"Where are we going?" she asked Creedmoor as they waited for the elevator.
"Time to get on the road," he explained. "That's where it's all going to happen. Same as in Maine. Well, except for the weather. Nothing I can do about that."
The elevator doors slid open, exposing the fantastic main lobby of Caesars Hotel and Casino that Jane had seen so many times before. The ceiling was a simulated purple dusk sky complete with faint shimmering stars. A marble statue of the hotel's namesake stood in a fountain directly across from the elevator. Allie had always enjoyed that statue but Jane knew she wouldn't notice it this time.
There weren't many people in the lobby at that time of the morning. Whenever anybody approached as they strolled through the lobby, Jane worked to establish eye contact, but nobody was having any of it. When they rounded the corner and headed toward the front desk Jane was astounded. He's going to check out? He's crazier than I thought.
A bronze-skinned security guard sporting a manicured chin strap beard nodded politely at the three hotel guests as they moved past him. Jane read his name tag, which identified him only as Hector, before looking directly into his eyes. The vacant smile disappeared but nothing else registered on his face. This is my best shot. After a quick glance at Creedmoor she pulled the carefully prepared bundle from inside the waistband of her scrubs and nonchalantly dropped it after they'd passed. She fought to keep from looking back. With gritted teeth she hoped and prayed that he wouldn't pick it up and return it to her without looking at it. That could be fatal.
~~~
"We have to call the police now," Steve said. "We're running out of time. You had me convinced you knew where they were, but you didn't. We wasted the whole night."
"I'm sorry about that," Rockingham said. "I got it wrong. But bringing in the AC police could be a mistake. There's no way they can know what they're dealing with. By the time they figure it out it'll be too late."
"Why do you keep saying that? He's just a dumb fuck who overdosed on steroids!"
"There's more to it than that. We're dealing with a crazy man. Who knows what he'll do if a mob of cops shows up out of nowhere."
"I'm going to drive up the strip while we talk," Eddie said. "Maybe we'll see something." When nobody answered he started the engine. Before long they were tooling along in the light early morning traffic of a city that likes to sleep late. All three men shielded their eyes when the van emerged from the wall of hotels and into the glare of the sun, which seemed to rest on the horizon over the ocean.
"Why are you so fired up about doing this all by ourselves?" Steve challenged Rockingham. "He's got my wife and daughter. Why can't you swallow your damn pride and get us some help?"
"I have my reasons."
"Well, your reasons suck. You're no better than the local police. You act like they're a bunch of dopes! I got news for you. This is Atlantic City. They've seen it all. A lot more than you have to deal with in bumfuck Hammonton! And we need some fucking help from them. I don't care what you think. You had your chance." He fumbled between pockets until he found his cell phone. Rockingham opened his mouth but no words came as he watched Steve push buttons.
~~~
Considering that there was nobody else in line, checking out took longer than expected. Creedmoor had gently pulled Allie forward with him and took her hand as he spoke calmly with the hotel clerk. Jane hung back by the velvet ropes that delineated the queue area and carefully turned her head in both directions. Hector the security guard was nowhere to be seen. She managed to check the entire lobby again when Creedmoor and Allie returned from the counter. Again, no Hector.
It had only been a few weeks earlier that she had told Kristie about Steve's affair, just a few feet from where she was standing. She could see the electric sign hanging outside of the karaoke club, although it was closed at that time of day. It turned out that the affair had never happened, but overall things were much worse than they'd been that night.
"Can I hold her hand?" Jane asked. Without answering, Creedmoor let go. They walked past the elevators and toward the casinos on the ocean side of the resort. "Where are we going?"
"The garage. We're going for our little drive," he answered. "It's time."
~~~
"Go ahead," Rockingham said. "Call them. But first let me tell you what will happen. You'll blurt out some cockamamie story. At least that's what they'll think. They'll all roll their eyes and pass you on to somebody else. After a couple of hours they'll realize you're not going away and they'll send somebody out to interview you. It'll be lunchtime by then. Maybe they'll start looking for your wife sometime this afternoon. Or, they'll spend all their time running every report and check they can on you instead of your wife or Creedmoor, because they'll think you're nuts, or that it was you that did any kidnapping. Maybe, if you're lucky, you'll talk them into this by sundown. Think that's soon enough?"
"You bastard! If all that's true we should have called them as soon as we got here! They'd be out looking for them by now!" Steve yelled. But he snapped the phone shut and joined them in scanning the streets for any sign of his wife and daughter.
~~~
Creedmoor guided Jane and her daughter through a mall area lined with clothing stores and boutiques. She considered grabbing Allie and bolting, the way she'd done the night before at the Tropicana, but decided it was too early for that kind of desperation. It didn't work then. Why would it work now? And it could make things a lot worse, she thought. He'll use that gun if I force him to. I just know it. And Allie still has a chance.
"Allie, would you like a muffin for breakfast?" Creedmoor asked sweetly when they came to a neon-festooned bakery at the edge of a food court. Allie wiped her nose and looked at her feet without answering.
"I think she would," Jane said, nodding. It made no sense to stop, but not everything he did made sense. If he wasn't in a rush, neither was she. The more time before they left, the better.
"Okay," he agreed. "But I'll do the talking. Not a word from you. Don't forget what's in my pocket."
They joined the line, which was comprised of only three other people. Ten minutes later only one of them had been served and Creedmoor lost his patience. "We don't have time for this. Let's go," he said, jerking his head away from the counter. "Maybe later."
~~~
Rockingham knew how angry Steve was. He could see it in the way he was gripping the phone in his white-knuckled hands, so tightly that Rockingham wondered how long the phone could survive the beating it was taking. It was time to tell him. Maybe that would help. But before he could open his mouth the cell phone in his own pocket erupted.
"Duane? This is Joe Boone. Duane? You there?"
"Yeah, I'm here, Joe," Rockingham said. "What's up?"
"Are you still in AC?"
"Yeah. What's up?"
"Something really weird just came across about your girl. I'm talking sixty seconds ago. She's in Caesars. I caught it on the scanner on Atlantic City's freq."
"Hold on, Joe. Eddie!" Rockingham barked. "Get us to Caesars. Now! Somebody spotted them!" He pulled the phone back to his ear. "Tell me everything. We're on our way there."
"There isn't much yet. A security guard saw them come past. It was your lady with a little girl and a man. At first he didn't think anything of it. But she dropped something. It was her driver's license wrapped in a piece of toilet paper. There was a note written on the paper. More like a list. In lipstick. I jotted it down. They said it twice. 'We are kidnapped. Help. Gun. 911. SHHHHH.' It sounded like the guard took a look at her and figured that the man she was with was the one doing the kidnapping. He told his boss and they called it into the police. Does any of this make sense to you?"
"Perfect sense! We're on our way over there now!"
"That's Caesars right there!" Steve yelled, as if the two-story red letters on the side of the building weren't evidence enough. "Where do we go?"
"Pull in there like you're checking in," Rockingham told Eddie before turning his attention back to the phone.
"How long ago did the guard see them?" he demanded of Boone.
"Don't know but I heard it less than two minutes ago. It's fresh. It's definitely her, Duane. They have her driver's license. She's a smart woman. That was good thinking."
"Where in Caesars? The place is huge. Can we talk to the guard? Was his name in there?" Rockingham asked.
"I gave you everything I have," Boone answered. "I'm sure there'll be more. They probably wanted to get it out on the air fast."
Then it was Steve's phone that rang. Steve stared at it as if he was unsure what to do. Rockingham reached into the back seat and smacked him on the shoulder without missing a word in his conversation with Boone. "Answer that!" he mouthed, pointing furiously at the phone in Steve's hand.
"Alright," Rockingham said into his own phone. "We're pulling up at the curb at Caesars right now and we're going in. Call me whenever something comes up. I really need to talk to that security guard. If you can track him down, try to get his name and tell him to call me."
"Will do, Duane. Hey, be careful down there. I don't know how you saw this coming but all of a sudden it got dangerous. Keep your head down."
"Better tell that to the other guy. I'll talk to you," Rockingham said before closing his phone. "Who was that?" he yelled over his shoulder.
"It was Creedmoor," Steve answered slowly, as if he still didn't believe it. "He said they're getting ready to leave for a ride on the Garden State Parkway."
"North or South?"
"He didn't tell me. That's all he said. Except something about wrecking me."
"Whose phone did he call from?"
"I didn't recognize the number."
"He's playing with us. He wants us nearby whenever he does whatever he's planning, but he thinks he can stay ahead of us. I think they're still in this building, but not for long," Rockingham declared as they scrambled out of the vehicle. "If they get out we're in trouble. Jane was right. The guy's sick in the head. Nobody's coming back from this joy ride he's got planned."
"We need help!" Steve said. "We can't cover the whole city! We can't even cover this building!"
"The AC police know about it now," Rockingham answered. "It's time to bring them up to speed. But first---"
"You can't park there, sir," interrupted a uniformed porter when it was clear that the three men intended to abandon the minivan in the checkin lanes. "I need somebody to stay with the car."
Rockingham fished out his badge and waved it at him. "Police business. This is an emergency. Where's the security office? I need to see whoever's in charge of security."
"Uh, lemme' see. You should go to the front desk. Right inside here and up the stairs. They have a little room right by the front desk. I've never been in there."
Led by Rockingham, they charged through a set of automatic doors and ran up the stairs. Without taking time to read the words stenciled on the window they burst through an open door nearby. A middle-aged man behind a desk and a nervous security guard in front of it looked up, the former with his mouth open as though he'd stopped speaking in mid-sentence.
"Hotel security?" Rockingham asked.
"Yes," the man at the desk answered. "Can I help you?"
"No, but I can help you. I'm Sergeant Rockingham from the Hammonton Police Department. There's no time to explain but I know all about the kidnapping note you just got. I chased that guy down here last night but the trail got cold."
"Hammonton?" he asked. "I'm Dan Coburn. We're working with the local police. You have no jurisdiction here. I think we can handle it."
"No, you can't. You don't know jack shit about it!" Steve yelled.
"He's right," Rockingham said. "And you don't have time to learn. I need to see all your surveillance camera footage from the last hour and I need to see it now," Rockingham said. "Are you the guard who found the note?" he asked the young man in uniform.
"Yes," he answered. "It was right out there."
"Tell me everything you saw," Rockingham ordered.
"Now hold on just a minute!" Coburn said. "What part of 'we can handle it' don't you understand?" He looked at Eddie and Steve as if he was noticing them for the first time. "Are these Hammonton police too?"
"Something like that. Can you roll those tapes right in here?" Rockingham asked.
"Yes we can, and when the ACPD task force arrives in about two minutes that's what we're going to do. My guards are already out on the floor searching. You boys will be my first call next time anybody steals a crate of blueberries. But leave the serious cases for us. Now if you gentleman will excuse us, we have a kidnapping to solve. I'm going to have to ask you to leave my hotel. We don't need a bunch of farmers getting in our way."
"There's no time for a turf battle, Coburn," Rockingham said before turning to his partners. "Steve, you find the garage. I'll take the casino and walk through to the boardwalk side. Eddie, you wander through the hotel lobby. Keep your phones turned on."
"Cell phones?" Coburn said with a crooked smile. "You guys use cell phones?"
Rockingham glared at Coburn. "You're going to have blood on your hands if you get in my way." He stomped out. Steve and Eddie looked at each other before following. All three ignored the phalanx of detectives and uniformed officers that were converging on the security office.
"Creedmoor will be halfway across the country before those dummies get their coffee orders straight," Eddie said. "They don't get it."
"Except Creedmoor ain't going across the country," Rockingham answered back. "The window is closing fast. We'll know where he is for about ten minutes. Fifteen, tops. If we haven't spotted him by then we're out of luck. You still got your gun?" he asked Steve.
He patted his jacket pocket. "Right here."
"How about you?" Rockingham asked Eddie. "I've got an extra one, loaded and ready to go if you want it. It's your choice."
"Yeah, I'll take it," Eddie said.
Rockingham looked around before reaching into the bag for the other Glock. "Just point and shoot," he said as Eddie hid the gun without even looking at it. Rockingham tossed the empty bag behind a row of unoccupied slot machines. "Let's go." The three headed off in different directions.
The casino was still mostly empty as Rockingham wandered through. Nobody was at any of the tables and there were only a few diehards scattered through the rows of slot machines. It wasn't difficult to determine that there was nobody there that he was looking for. That didn't surprise him. The exits were where he thought he might encounter something that would matter. For him that meant the boardwalk entrances. Now that he had time to think it through, he realized that he should have taken the parking garage himself instead of assigning it to Steve. That's where Creedmoor's heading, if he isn't there already. He's looking to escape. Steve won't even know what to do if he finds them, he scolded himself.
The glint of the sun through an expanse of glass as it hovered above the Atlantic signaled that he'd was getting close to the boardwalk doors. A nervous ache seeped into his gut. If they were still in the building, chances are one of them -- Steve, Eddie or himself -- was going to catch up with them in the next few minutes. But the chance of success was dropping fast. The lack of cooperation from Coburn hadn't helped, but there was still hope. He walked faster.
The first thing that occurred to him when he heard the pounding footsteps was that he'd accidentally caught up with Creedmoor. He looked back and immediately recognized the onrushing, uniformed man as Hector, the security guard from Coburn's office. Grimacing, he braced himself for bad news.
"They found them!" Hector yelled as soon as he was close enough. "On the live feed! They're getting away!"
"What?" Rockingham asked, dumbfounded. "There must be fifty cops up there!"
"Come on!" Hector urged. "I'll tell you while we run!" He took off through the casino. By the time he looked back Rockingham was running, too. "They're in the tunnel to Bally's. They have a whole different set of cameras over there. Mr. Coburn ordered the tapes but it'll be too late by the time they come up, so I took off!" They were past the aisles of slot machines now. "Downstairs!" he shouted when they reached a set of escalators.
"You just walked out? Did Coburn know where you were headed?" Rockingham asked, sucking air as he followed the twenty-something security guard.
"I'll probably lose my job. It's over here," Hector said when they emerged in a reception area on the lower floor. "See that walkway? That goes to the next casino over. That's where they were. Come on!"
Rockingham struggled to keep up as they dodged people streaming from a breakfast buffet. "So where are Coburn's men?" he panted, sure that Hector wouldn't hear him.
"They'll be here soon," Hector yelled over his shoulder. "But it'll be too late." They reached the end of the passage and they weren't in the Roman Empire anymore. There were cowboys, dusty trails, saloons and an occasional cactus in every direction, along with the usual rows of slot machines and gaming tables. They'd arrived in the American West. "That lady looked so scared, man," Hector told him. "I couldn't sit around waiting for tapes."
They stopped abruptly in front of a faux canyon wall. There were two different directions that Creedmoor could have gone. "There's the camera they caught him on," Hector said, pointing above Rockingham's head. "They could have gone that way to the boardwalk," he said, looking toward the sun. "Or maybe they worked their way through this casino to the garage."
"Or anywhere else, really," Rockingham said. "Should we split up?"
"Yes. I'll head back to the garage. And I'll fill Coburn's guys in," he said, tapping the walkie-talkie microphone clipped to his shoulder.
"Okay," agreed Rockingham. He slid a business card out of his wallet. "My cell phone number's on there. Call me if you have any luck."
Hector took off for the garage without answering. Rockingham pulled out his phone and dialed as he moved along the storefronts of a pseudo western town toward the boardwalk doors. "Steve! This is Duane!" he shouted into his phone when somebody answered. "Get over to Bally's! They were spotted on a surveillance camera! And call Eddie, tell him to come too!"
"Holy shit!"
"Wait a minute!" Rockingham yelled into his phone. "I see them! They just popped up out of nowhere!"
"Holy shit! I gotta' get over there!"
"Perfect! They're heading back through the casino! Hector and Coburn ought to be there any second. I just hope---wait! Damnit! I think they saw me!"
"He won't know you're a cop!"
"Yup, they saw me, all right. Looks like they're going out on the boardwalk," Rockingham reported. "Here's what we'll do. I'll follow them. Get a hold of Eddie, get over here, and try to find Coburn's swarm of cops. We need them on the boardwalk! Over!"
Something just happened, Jane knew immediately. They were following the signs and obviously heading for the parking garage when Creedmoor halted, stared briefly back in the direction they'd just come from, and then changed direction. Now it appeared that they were going toward the boardwalk exits. What did he see? This has to be a good thing, she told herself. But what did he see? Whatever it was, it had to have something to do with Steve, the only person out there who had any idea where she and Allie were. Practically the last thing she'd said to him was not to call the police. Had he done it anyway?
Creedmoor gestured at a set of heavy-looking windowless doors. Without letting go of Allie's hand Jane walked as slowly as she could, until he caught on. "Move it," he said, placing a hand in the small of her back and pushing her along. She looked directly at the security camera above the door as they passed under it and onto the boardwalk.
A November fall Jersey Shore day was waiting for them. The typical morning pedestrian traffic of joggers, bicyclists and early bird shoppers passed in both directions as Jane's eyes adjusted to the sunlight. The screech of seagulls looking for scraps of food surrounded them as Creedmoor's eyes darted up and down the boardwalk. Something was afoot. Jane would have given anything to know what he'd seen to cause the change in plans. "This way," he said quietly, pointing South toward the glitzy Caesars shopping mall that arched over the boardwalk and projected across the beach all the way out over the surf. "And keep moving. Understand?"
They walked briskly past Caesars and the Rainforest Café. Jane was afraid to turn around but she watched carefully as Creedmoor looked over his shoulder over and over again. Normally she would have steered Allie away from the mumbling panhandler who was crumpled against the façade of Boardwalk Hall with a paper cup between his feet. This time she'd have welcomed the intrusion but Creedmoor was having none of it. When they reached Boardwalk Hall Jane wondered if Allie remembered attending a circus performance there just a few months earlier. If she did, she didn't show it. "Over here," Creedmoor directed, pointing at the line of Greek columns at the edge of the boardwalk directly across from the arena.
He led them down a set of wooden steps and into the sea oats that flourished on the small dune ridge. "Get down." Jane went down on a knee and pulled Allie into a seated position in the sand. From there she watched the population of stray cats that shared living space beneath the boardwalk along with a smattering of homeless people. Creedmoor, crouched at eye level with the surface of the boardwalk, watched the foot traffic carefully. Jane considered asking him what was going on but decided that the answer might not be what Allie needed to hear. Instead she pulled Allie close and stroked her hair, waiting for Creedmoor's next move.
"Time to move," he said after they'd been hunkered down in the sand for less than a minute.
"Why don't you leave Allie here?" Jane asked. "We can get around better without her."
"Nice try but I need her here to keep you honest," he said. They returned to the boardwalk and maneuvered through the joggers and bikers until they'd reached a raggedy line of rolling chairs, guarded by an array of unkempt men who looked too feeble to push them. "Get in," Creedmoor ordered, pointing at one of the chairs. He handed a few bills to the emaciated chair-pusher and pointed north before climbing in beside Jane. Although there wasn't a cloud in the sky he unsnapped the clear plastic rain cover and spread it across the front, making it more difficult to see in and out. The pusher tucked the bills away and slipped behind the chair. She didn't think he'd be able to budge it, especially after Creedmoor got in, but somehow he managed to get it moving back in the direction of Bally's. After fifty feet she could hear the pusher's labored wheezing but the chair continued to roll. Pedestrians, their shapes hazy through the thick plastic, moved out of the way without bothering to look. An occasional cyclist whizzed past without even a backwards glance.
Creedmoor turned back to the chair-pusher just after they rolled past the entrance to Bally's from which they'd come onto the boardwalk not long before. Jane wondered if she and Allie should make a break for it while he wasn't looking. She pushed the plastic aside and saw what had led Creedmoor to confer with the pusher. A stream of uniformed police officers was filing out of Caesars onto the boardwalk and assembling along the beachside rail. No wonder plans were changing. Again. The chair veered to the left as it rolled to the plaza in front of Bally's, where country music blared from every direction. Creedmoor continued to pass instructions through the back window as they passed the Korean War Memorial. "Stop!" he finally commanded when they reached a shabby row of storefronts. An army of Middle Eastern and Asian shopkeepers were busy in front of each one, carrying heaps of merchandise and erecting displays of tshirts and beach toys.
Even before the chair had stopped moving Creedmoor was pushing Jane and Allie out. The man working on the windows of the closest store with a bucket and squeegee came toward them after Creedmoor climbed out and yanked on the locked door. "Not open!" the man said firmly. "Nine o'clock."
Creedmoor looked across the boardwalk at the growing crowd of police, who were beginning to fan out in every direction. "Open the door!" he commanded.
"Not open," he insisted, water dripping from the squeegee onto his leather shoes. "Later. Come later. No open."
Creedmoor pulled the pistol from his pocket, cocked it, and jammed the barrel into the man's temple. "Now. Open the door now or I'll blow your brains out."
The man dropped the squeegee and pulled a ring of keys from his pants pocket. "Okay. You stick up?"
"Shut up and open the door." When he heard the lock click he shoved the man aside and yanked the door open. He lunged at Jane but before he reached her she walked inside on her own and pulled Allie in behind her. She looked back as the door swung closed and saw no sign that the police had seen them at all.
They'd only taken a few steps when the door swung open again and Squeegee came in. "He stick up! He stick up!" he shouted at a woman who was busy rearranging bins of souvenirs on the counter near an electronic cash register. She looked up, her face already wrung with fear as she watched Creedmoor advance with the gun in his hand. Squeegee caught up and jumped onto Creedmoor's back, locking an arm around his neck from behind. Creedmoor flicked him off like a bug with an effortless twitch and pushed him into a rack of sweatshirts. The woman dropped a box of decorative magnets and began wailing. Metal sweatshirt hangers screeched on the steel display rack as Squeegee fought to extricate himself. Creedmoor lifted the gun and fired three rapid shots when Squeegee rushed at him. Jane saw a sweatshirt on the rack twitch with the first shot but the second two drilled into Squeegee's chest, dropping him like a stone onto the grubby tiled floor.
The woman behind the counter howled even more loudly as she brought her hands to her face. Jane braced herself when Creedmoor aimed the gun at her. She knew by now that he could do it, and probably would. But before he had the chance the woman's eyes rolled back and she collapsed onto the floor out of sight behind the counter, accidentally yanking a dish of small change with her. Coins rattled on the floor as the only three conscious people in the store looked at each other. "Come on," Creedmoor commanded as he slipped the gun calmly back into a pocket. "Out the back. Move it. We can still double back to the garage."
With Allie and Jane in front, the group picked their way through a jam-packed store room and a kitchen before they found a plain door that opened onto an alley lined with electric meters and greasy dumpsters. Bally's towered over them to the left. She wondered why they'd stopped walking after only a few paces behind the store until she looked across the ruins of a demolished building toward Pacific Boulevard, the main avenue of the casino strip. Two Atlantic City Police Department cruisers were parked at the curb with red and blue lights flashing on their roofs. Five or six officers were visible up and down the boulevard, some moving and some not. Creedmoor looked back toward the casino, as if he was assessing whether or not they could get there without being seen.
"Why don't you just let us go?" Jane asked. "You can get around faster without us. You haven't really done anything wrong yet." Well, not to us, anyway, she added silently, remembering what had happened inside the shop and in the garage the night before. "At least leave Allie behind!"
"No," he said immediately. "He's not getting off that easy. Otherwise, how would he ever understand what I'm doing here? He's got a lesson to learn, Jane." His breathing became noticeably heavier. The gun came back out and suddenly it was jammed between Jane's ribs. "No more ideas from you. Got it?" Jane nodded.
Allie had been brave so far but as they lingered behind the store a sob escaped her lips. No wonder, Jane thought. Until the previous evening she didn't know what a gun could do, or even what one was. Now she was probably feeling the danger for the first time as she watched Creedmoor threaten her mother with one. Jane wiped the tears from her daughter's cheeks. "It's okay," she said, forcing a smile.
They moved north through the alley, past the rear doors of the tattoo parlors, massage studios and grimy gift shops that Jane had largely ignored on countless visits to the boardwalk. When they reached the end of the string of stores the boardwalk was again in full view. In the other direction the boulevard was now teeming with police. It looked to Jane like they expected Creedmoor to try to break out and they were determined to seal him on the boardwalk. Surely Creedmoor could see this too. Or did he? Maybe not. He sees what he wants to see.
She expected to be led back to the boardwalk but instead they continued creeping along in the gritty no-man's land of vacant lots and dilapidated housing that remained between the boulevard and the backside of the boardwalk. They were passing through one of the few areas where the casinos hadn't squeezed everything else out yet. She could see the towers and turrets of the Trump Taj Mahal a few blocks ahead. What would happen when they reached it, she asked herself. She didn't think Creedmoor was planning to go that far. They'll be waiting for us there and he knows it. But he'd have to take them somewhere, because after a few more blocks the blighted streetscape that was providing cover would be gone. She made a secret pledge that regardless of where he took them, she wouldn't go down without a fight. She owed that to her daughter.
All three of them looked back when they heard police sirens behind them. Not satisfied with taking control of the boulevard, the police were now moving toward the boardwalk along the cross streets whose names had inspired the layout of the Monopoly board. So far the police hadn't reached Tennessee Avenue, which Creedmoor was about to lead them across. It's not going to be long, Jane knew. Things are going to start happening for good or bad.
"We're in trouble. It might not work," Creedmoor allowed. "They're onto us. This changes things." He looked at Allie, who had taken the opportunity to wrap both her arms around Jane's leg with her eyes closed tight. "The cops are all over us. This isn't good news for Allie. I don't know if I can cut her loose now. We might not make it for our ride after all." He took his hands out of his pockets and squeezed his head violently as he worked his jaw. The driver of the passing car slowed long enough for a better look before speeding away. "It's not supposed to work out this way. It's not supposed to be this way!" Creedmoor yelled. His hands pumped open and closed as they came away from his head. Jane watched closely as one of the hands went back into the pocket. The pocket with the gun in it. "Come on," he ordered, preparing to cross Tennessee Avenue.
Jane took a look around. The van coming their way wasn't moving as quickly as she would have hoped but the situation felt suddenly desperate. It would have to do. Creedmoor had already stepped off the curb but was waiting for the van to pass. Jane peeled Allie from her leg and gauged the speed of the van, which was almost on top of them. She let a few more seconds pass before lunging at Creedmoor, throwing both hands firmly into his back. The sound of squealing tires filled the air as the driver of the florist van stood on the brake pedal in a futile effort to avoid hitting the man who had suddenly fallen into the road in front of him.
The van lurched to a stop but not soon enough to avoid hitting Creedmoor. The jarring slap of steel against human flesh reached Jane's ears an instant before Creedmoor's body was launched forward, landing violently on the asphalt. For a fraction of a second nothing moved. Then the driver of the van threw his door open and hopped out.
Jane watched open-mouthed as Creedmoor struggled to flip onto his back, exposing a growing red blot along his left side. She couldn't believe it. He was hurt but she'd hoped he'd be dead. He was already coming to his senses and his hand was already moving unsteadily in the direction of the pocket, a move that she'd learned to dread. Allie stood frozen on the sidewalk, a sitting duck target for Creedmoor. They both were. There had to be plenty of bullets left in that gun. A quick survey of the area and she knew which direction offered the quickest escape route and provided the most immediate shelter. She grabbed Allie's hand and dragged her in the direction of the boardwalk. "Allie, I need you to run as fast as you can." As they scrabbled away from Creedmoor's crumpled body he rolled back to his stomach and groaned, spitting mouthfuls of blood onto the pavement.
"Hey!" shouted the van driver. "Where ya' going? Get back here, lady!"
Gunshots ended his protests. Even without looking Jane had no doubt about the driver's fate, but that didn't matter to her at the moment. All she wanted to do was get Allie to the boardwalk, which was sure to be swarming with police by then. She considered picking her up but didn't think she had the energy to carry her. "Keep going, Allie! Hurry!" Relief washed over her when they reached the wooden steps that would take them up onto the boardwalk. Without thinking she hopped up two at a time. It worked for her but not for Allie, who tripped and landed hard before falling over the side and back onto the street. Her jeans were shredded, revealing a skinned knee and a scraped ankle.
"Mommy!" she cried, her face scrunching into a wet, red mass. Jane shushed her as she pulled her to her feet. There was no time for that. She was more concerned with what she saw at the Tennessee Avenue crossing fifty yards back. Things had changed.
Creedmoor, who just a few seconds earlier was sprawled helplessly in the street, was now trotting awkwardly at the boardwalk where Jane and Allie were stopped, holding his bloody side with one hand and the pistol in the other. The lifeless body of the van driver lay in the road behind him. Without waiting for Allie, Jane scrambled up the steps to boardwalk level and scanned in both directions. The police were there, as she'd hoped, but they were too far south to help her. In fact, it looked like they hadn't moved very far since she'd seen them last. For the time being she and Allie were on their own.
Jane scurried back down the steps to Allie. "We have to run!" she gasped as she lugged Allie up the stairs and deposited her on the boardwalk. "This way!" She again took Allie's hand and began to jog north as fast as she could while allowing her daughter to keep up. Part of her wished that Creedmoor would fire the gun again. Maybe somebody would intervene if he did. When she looked back she saw that he'd already gained a lot of ground. She considered diving into the Ripley's Believe it or Not Museum, but decided against it. If there was no obvious exit they'd be trapped, and there wouldn't be anybody in there who could protect them.
He was only twenty feet behind when they reached the Hard Rock Café on the outskirts of the Taj Mahal. She made a quick decision. It wouldn't be long before the police caught on to what was happening, but she needed a little more time. Maybe there would be a place to hide if she went indoors. "In here!" she yelled at Allie as they changed direction. She yanked the door open and shoved Allie into the restaurant ahead of her. They darted between startled wait staff who were busy serving breakfast. Jane looked back after they slipped past a display of electric guitars and a wall that was plastered with black vinyl LPs. Creedmoor hadn't been fooled. He was already in the restaurant. Jane paused long enough to see him palm the face of a hostess and shove her savagely into a stack of high chairs. If only it was darker in here, she thought, but it was clear that he'd already spotted them.
They walked through another hallway that took them out of the restaurant and were immediately bombarded by the familiar sound of chiming slot machines. This must connect directly to the Taj, Jane thought. Not a bad place to get lost and stall for time. She led Allie around a corner and charged forward. When she realized that they were about to enter a breezeway, well-lit by the sun but with no exits, she considered turning back. One look over her shoulder told her that wasn't an option. Creedmoor was on the verge of catching them.
The breezeway, devoid of people at the moment, crossed back over the boardwalk toward the beach. As they hurried through Jane glanced at the boardwalk and saw a throng of police on foot and bicycles advancing toward her. They were still at least a minute away but they're definitely on the move, she told herself. "We just have to last a little bit longer!" she shouted at Allie.
Something else caught her eye from the breezeway as they raced over top of the boardwalk. The man standing in front of the beach patrol headquarters looked a lot like Sergeant Duane Rockingham. Was that even possible?
When they reached the other end of the breezeway there was nowhere to go but down. As they clattered toward the bottom of the gaudy stairway she looked up in time to see Creedmoor appear at the top with the gun in firing position. She was so busy sliding herself between the gun and Allie that she didn't hear the shots, but she did feel the sharp sting of grainy shrapnel from where Creedmoor's bullets had struck the ceramic walls of the stairway around her. How can he get away with this? So far there hadn't been any security guards or police anyplace that Creedmoor had chased them.
She considered running onto the boardwalk but decided against it. There was no way the police could get to her before Creedmoor would. A foot race in open space was a bad idea. Even with his injuries he'd shown he was fast enough to overtake them. Instead, they ran onto the Steel Pier. The park was deserted at that early hour but luckily the gates were wide open. Surely there's a place to hide in here, she thought. They ran past a carousel and came to the multi-level Fun House. Creedmoor was limping through the gate but hadn't seen them yet. "In here!" she said, pushing Allie through an oval doorway.
They scaled a ramp that took them to the upper level but they were still exposed. Creedmoor was searching the carousel horse by horse, the gun in his hand glistening each time it caught some sun. It wouldn't be long before he moved on. Jane herded Allie through a series of colorful punching bags and waited at the foot of a swinging bridge. It seemed like a good spot. If Creedmoor came in they could move forward or retreat depending on which entrance he used. She pulled Allie behind one of the bags and tried to slow down her own breathing before the sound of it gave away their position.
The worst part was not knowing what he would do, but that didn't last for long. Jane felt the entire Fun House shake as Creedmoor stomped in. When he dragged himself up the same ramp they'd used moments earlier she swung Allie by the arm onto the bridge, but Allie lost her footing on the shifting floor slats and fell on her face. Jane could hear the slap of Creedmoor's body as he bulled through the punching bags. "Run across!" she yelled at Allie after pulling her to her feet. The bridge was swinging raucously but somehow Allie was able to stay on her feet long enough to make it to the other side. Jane was halfway across when she looked back to see Creedmoor emerge from the punching bags and lurch onto the bridge. She lost her own balance and crashed into the rope side rail before falling onto her stomach. Creedmoor fell too when he stepped onto the bridge, but while grunting with pain he lunged forward and slapped a hand on Jane's ankle.
Propelling herself forward with brute force by her grip on the rope rail, she pulled away before he was able to close his hand around her. Allie had already passed through a mirrored tube causeway and was painstakingly descending a narrow staircase to the lower level. Jane followed, and together they burst back out into the sunlight. Now she could hear police sirens as she and Allie ran deeper onto the pier. Help was close at hand. If they could last just a little longer---
Thoughts of escape were interrupted by another series of shots. This time they didn't hit anything close to her, but she pulled Allie in closer to her own body anyway, hoping to shield her. They passed through an alleyway of carnival games, which might have provided worthy hiding places except that each booth appeared to be tightly sealed. A rusty steel bar rested on the protruding counter of one of the booths. Without much thought about what it was or what she could do with it she scooped it up with her left hand without breaking stride. It might not be much of a weapon against a two-hundred and fifty pound man armed with a pistol, but it was better than nothing.
The pounding of Creedmoor's feet was growing louder as they ran past the tilt-a-whirl but they still had a thirty foot lead. Jane glanced back at the boardwalk and saw that the police had almost reached the pier. Did they realize that's where she was? There was no way to know. She pulled Allie around a corner to a giant terraced sliding board. This could work, she decided, hoping that it wouldn't be long before help arrived. If they could make it to the top there'd be two different ways to come down. It would also be difficult for Creedmoor to get a decent shot off while they were on the twisting stairway. They ran to the back of the slide where Jane leaped onto the first flight of steps, yanking Allie behind her.
They'd only climbed to the first landing when Creedmoor appeared, from the opposite direction that they'd seem him last. He was in worse shape than Jane had realized. His entire shirt and the top half of one pants leg were soaked with blood. She wondered how he'd managed to keep going this long, and didn't think he'd be able to make it up the stairs. With the metal bar in one hand and the back of Allie's shirt scrunched in the other, she pushed on. There was still no sign of the police on the pier but Jane was certain that they'd be there before much longer. She'd just begun to believe that they might survive after all when she felt Allie's shirt tear out her hand. Allie cried out with every impact as her body crashed and rolled all the way to the bottom of the staircase.
Jane peered over the rail and saw Allie lying in an unnatural position, battered but still in one piece. Creedmoor hadn't reached the stairway but a quick look at his position told Jane that he would reach Allie first. Even if Jane clambered down in time, she knew she couldn't protect her daughter from him anyway. But it wasn't going to matter who could get there first because as he limped toward Allie his shooting arm was already on the way up.
Jane saw the gun and knew she had to move fast, before Creedmoor realized what she was going to try. It was a fifteen foot drop from where Jane was perched to the wooden planks of the pier, and Creedmoor was still about ten feet out. She timed his speed and picked a place to aim for. Squeezing the metal bar tightly in her right hand, she scaled the railing and launched herself at him, fighting the urge to scream.
He looked up just before she was about to land on his shoulders and flinched away. She swung the bar wildly at his head just before impact and was elated when it struck him in the face with a crunch that she could hear as well as feel. Her knee slammed into his shoulder, enough to knock him sideways. She flailed at him again with the bar as her own body flipped backwards, landing her painfully on her back. The gun dropped from Creedmoor's hand as he staggered and fell away, but he quickly recovered it before wrestling his bloody body back to a standing position. Horrified, Jane threw the bar, which landed harmlessly at his feet. She wanted to go to Allie and throw herself over her tiny body, but Creedmoor was already raising the gun, this time pointing it at Jane.
Nothing made sense after she heard the gunshots. Creedmoor's head exploded like a pumpkin as she watched, and then he went down again. Bits of flesh and brain matter rained onto the pier around them. Jane instinctively looked at Allie, who was bruised and bloodied from her falls but otherwise unharmed. Then she saw somebody behind her and understood.
"That's for Charlynn!" Sergeant Rockingham shouted at Creedmoor's still figure as it lay in a spreading pool of blood that was spurting from his head and neck. He fired another shot that burrowed bloodlessly into his torso. "Did you think I forgot about you?" he asked the bloody face. The eyes were open but there was no life left in that body. "Not on your life." He smiled, then snickered, and before long was laughing like a maniac. "Get it?" he asked Jane before doubling over with laughter. "Not on your life?"
Jane ignored him. She had no idea where Rockingham had come from but that was for later, she decided as she crawled over to Allie. Knowing that her daughter had broken some bones she resisted the urge to pick her up, satisfying herself with wiping her tears away and caressing her face. "It's all over, sweetie. We're okay. You're safe now." She looked up in time to see a dozen police officers charging up the pier with guns drawn.
The onrushing police encircled Rockingham. "Drop the gun!" one shouted. "Now!"
"Not him!" Jane protested.
Rockingham placed his pistol gently on the ground and kicked it away. "I'm a police officer," he said calmly. "My badge is in my pocket."
"It's okay," said one of the officers from the back. "It's true. I saw him back in the casino."
"It's him you need to worry about," Rockingham said, pointing at Creedmoor. "Well, not anymore." One of the officers peeled the gun from Creedmoor's hand and ejected the magazine from it. Rockingham pulled his badge out and held it up for anybody who was watching.
"Did you fire the shot that took him down?" the first officer asked Rockingham.
"Damn right I did. It was three shots, actually. Maybe four. Good thing for Mrs. Havelock here. He was about to waste her and her daughter."
"Are you all right, ma'am?" somebody finally asked Jane. "Is this your daughter?"
"We're alive," Jane said. "That's more than I expected a few minutes ago." She moved toward Allie, only to be restrained by one of the policemen.
"You need to stay still," he cautioned. "Are you hurt?"
"No. This is his blood, not mine," she told him. "But my daughter got beat up pretty badly. She passed out. She needs help fast." She didn't have the energy to explain to them that she was a nurse.
"There's an ambulance on the way," an officer said. "We'll take good care of her."
"How did you know I was here?" she asked Rockingham after the police turned their attention to the body.
He shrugged. "It's a long story."
"Excuse me, Officer," interrupted an Atlantic City patrolman. "I'm going to need your statement."
"You'll have to wait," Rockingham told him. "I need to explain a few things to Mrs. Havelock." When the patrolman opened his mouth to protest Rockingham glared. That was enough to silence him.
"Did my husband call you?"
He shrugged. "Not exactly. Like I said, it's a long story. He's here somewhere. I bet he shows up any minute now."
A team of EMTs arrived, with Steve and Eddie right behind them. Two police officers quickly directed them to where Allie still lay in a heap at the base of the stairway. "She's unconscious," Jane told them. "She fell down the steps. I didn't move her."
"She'll be in good hands," one of them assured her. Jane knew this was the signal to move away so they could load her on the stretcher. She rose and stepped back until she bumped up against her waiting husband.
"I was so worried," he said. "Thank God you're safe."
"Sir, I'd like to take a look at that head wound," one of the EMTs said to Steve.
"In a minute," Steve answered, before taking Jane by the arm and leading her away. "I almost lost you," he said to her as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "I don't know what I would have done. I was so scared." His head dropped on her shoulder. "I love you so much, Jane. I'm sorry I never show it. I've treated you so badly. I'll do better if you'll just give me a chance."
"They're loading Allie into the ambulance," Jane said. "One of us should go with her. I don't think I can handle it."
"I'll go," Steve said. "I just don't want to leave you."
"You should get them to check you out while you're there," Jane said.
"I'm fine."
"Stay with Allie as much as you can," she told him. "She saw a lot of horrible things happen. She'll want one of us there."
"I will." He let go of Jane, but then put his hands on her shoulders. "If you still want to, we'll put everything back together. The way it used to be."
"Allie needs us both."
"I was thinking," Steve said. "Maybe a new brother or sister would help her get through this. What do you think?"
"They're taking your daughter," interrupted one of the officers. "Would either of you like to ride along?" With a tear on her cheek, Jane pushed Steve gently toward the officer. By the time he was climbing into the back of the ambulance Rockingham was back from making his statement to the Atlantic City police.
"Are you okay?" he asked her.
"I think so. Ask me tomorrow." She paused. "What did you say after you shot Rob? Something like 'This one's for Charlynn.' Then you asked him if he remembered you. What was that all about?" she asked as she wiped her face.
He sighed and looked out over the ocean before responding. "Creedmoor and I have some history. Why do you think I knew so much about him when you called?"
"You already knew him?"
"I knew Richard Creedmoor. You knew Rob Manteo. I didn't know they were the same man until the same time you did. But yeah, we go way back. I've been watching him real close for quite a few years now."
"How far back?" Jane asked. "I'm confused. Why?"
"We can talk about this later."
"I need to know now."
"Yeah, I guess you do," he conceded. "You already know what happened in the hospital up in Maine after the accident."
"He pulled the plug on his wife and daughter," Jane said. "He admitted it to me last night."
"Yes. But he beat it. He got away with it."
"I know all this."
"I'm not done yet," Rockingham said. "After they couldn't nail him for it, well, the DA was in a fix. A crime like that just can't go unsolved. Not in a town like Gorham."
"A town like Gorham?" Jane asked. "What do you know about Gorham?"
"So he found the next best suspect and brought her up on charges," he continued. "I don't think he would have followed through. It was just for appearances. After it all died down I think they would have dropped it."
Jane nodded. "Okay."
"They brought charges against an orderly who just happened to be on duty that night. The woman who emptied bedpans and got coffee for the doctors and nurses. A woman named Charlynn."
Jane's eyes narrowed. "Charlynn. That's the name you said. But how does a cop in New Jersey know so much about this?"
"I wasn't always a cop in New Jersey."
"So what were you before that?"
Rockingham folded his arms. "Charlynn was a God-fearing woman who had nothing to do with what happened. The last thing she would ever do was take a life. She was horrified. The night they charged her, even before bail could be posted, she had a stroke. She never recovered. They let her go, of course, but she never got out of bed again. She never spoke again. She was only half there in the head after that."
"That's so sad," Jane said. "But I still don't understand."
"Charlynn's last name was Rockingham."
Jane's mouth fell open. "What? She's your wife?"
"Was my wife. She passed away two weeks ago at Ancora Hospital just outside Hammonton."
"But..."
He smiled. "I brought her down here because I had to keep tabs on my friend, Mr. Creedmoor. I promised Charlynn I wouldn't do anything to him. In my heart I always knew my promise wouldn't matter anymore after she was gone. I had my fingers crossed when I made it. All these years I was just biding my time. I was waiting. So you see, Creedmoor wasn't the only one looking for revenge."
"And then I came along. Amazing how that worked out."
"Imagine that," he said softly. "Imagine that." He drew a deep breath. "Creedmoor is a mystery. I have no idea what he was thinking. He may have been waiting for Charlynn to go, just like I was."
"Or maybe he was just waiting for the anniversary," Jane said.
"Could be. Or it could just be that it took this long for all those drugs to eat his brain away."
"He was tormented," Jane said. "He had nothing but grief and anger in his heart. And the steroids pumping through his body didn't help. He was dealing with a promise to his wife, too. At least he thought he was. I feel sorry for him."
"You're much kinder than I am," Rockingham said.
"I'm so sorry about your wife," Jane said. "I had no idea."
"How could you?"
"I feel like this was all my fault, or my husband's fault. It was a chain of events that had nothing to do with you."
"Now you're thinking like Creedmoor," Rockingham said.
"No, really. It all started with what my husband did to him," she said, looking over at the tarp that now covered Creedmoor's body. "I guess I don't know what to make of it. Not yet."
"I do," Rockingham said. "I know exactly what to make of it. I've always been an Old Testament man. And I'm at peace now. Finally. I'm at peace. I hope you are."
"Me? At peace? Not yet," Jane said to Rockingham, who was looking down the coastline with reddened eyes and a steely look on his face. She put her arms around his shoulders and patted him gently on the back. "But I'll be there soon. One way or another, I'll be there soon."
THE END
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