Chapter 35
KANE
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The silence is worse than the screaming. For the last ten minutes, I haven’t heard a sound from the storeroom. Worry frays my conscience. Did I push Amy too far?
Nolene’s eyes narrow in annoyance when she catches me lingering outside the door. “Don’t tell me you’re feeling sorry for her.”
Without replying, I head for my room, Nolene following me like a yapping dog.
“You show weakness and let her out now,” she says, “and you won’t find out who she contacted.”
“I realize that.”
“Why do you feel sorry for her? Look at what she did to you.”
Although I cleaned myself up and applied makeshift pressure bandages, my scalp and side are still hurting. “I don’t need a mental patient on my hands.”
“She brought it on herself.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I throw the last of my clothes into a suitcase, snapping it shut. “There’s only one person Amy could’ve contacted.”
“Her father?”
“Yes.” I heft the case off the bed. “She was under pressure, probably panicking. Her first instinct would be to call a number so familiar she doesn’t have to think about it.”
“What about Hutchinson? Do you think he called the police?”
“If he contacted them, they would’ve been here already.”
Nolene frowns. “I can’t imagine Hutchinson doing nothing after a call from his kidnapped daughter.”
“Neither can I.”
Still troubled, I load our stuff into the trunk of Nolene’s RAV in the garage.
There’s no time to do a clean-up of our fingerprints everywhere.
And what about my client? This is his house.
I’ll have to find a way to warn him. If he keeps his cool, he can simply state he loaned his home to his favorite vet for the holidays and claim ignorance of any connection to an animal rights activist cell.
I’ve organized a contractor to come in tomorrow to repair the mirror and broken window. I hope I’m not overlooking anything.
“Ready to leave?” I ask Nolene.
She nods.
We’re heading to Ross and Merele’s place in the country, a half-hour drive away.
Every time I think about Ross and Merele, a confused and nameless yearning steals over me.
Ross and I met when we were both first-year students at veterinary school, our friendship growing and deepening during those soul-crunching years of study.
After college, we built up experience working at various practices and kept our friendship from becoming stale by weekly double dates.
Then Merele came into our lives.
Listening to her speak at an animal rights fundraiser, we were both struck by her beauty, intelligence, and passion for animals.
Ross and I chatted with her afterward and the three of us struck up an intimate friendship filled with intense conversations over late-night lattes, Sunday picnic concerts, and juvenile practical jokes played at any time of the day or night.
Merele once removed all the labels from the cans in my pantry, and for the next couple of weeks I didn’t know if I’d be supplementing that night’s meal with baked beans or canned peaches.
I retaliated by replacing Merele’s shampoo with the vegan equivalent of cod liver oil. We couldn’t go near her for days. Getting together for weekend demos and mass sit-ins further cemented the growing solidarity between us.
I knew Ross was falling hard for Merele. The trouble was, so was I. And Merele seemed torn between the two of us.
One night, after one too many glasses of Merlot, Merele and I shared an unexpected, heated kiss that shook us both. I knew if I exerted myself I could steal her heart completely, but I also sensed that, despite her attraction to me, she felt more at ease with Ross’s laid-back steadiness.
Although it nearly broke me, I valued friendship over infatuation and backed away, allowing my clean-cut, blond, blue-eyed friend to take the lead. Six months later, I was the best—and possibly the unhappiest—man at their wedding.
The one highlight was when the celebrant announced the usual, “If any of you can show just cause...” and the blonde, blue-eyed girl I bribed with an Island Barbie ran up the aisle to Ross, yelling, “Daddy! Daddy!”
To recover from losing Merele, I hooked up with Nolene, taking our working friendship to the next level. She possessed everything I should have wanted—sensual looks and a fierce, activist spirit. But she wasn’t Merele.
Three years ago, Ross and I started our own veterinary practice to fund our AFD activities. Merele reluctantly remained at her lucrative job as a business analyst, joining us whenever an evening raid was scheduled.
Then the unthinkable happened. Ross announced he and Merele were pulling out of the field to start an animal sanctuary. “I can’t risk Mel landing up in prison,” Ross said, insisting the sanctuary would take in any animals AFD liberated.
That took place over a year and a half ago. I adjusted, but I still miss my partner. And Merele.
“Do Ross and Mel know we’re coming?” Nolene asks now, bringing me out of my memories.
“No.”
“Ross isn’t going to be happy.”
“Nope.”
Fiddling with the zipper on her toiletry bag, Nolene says abruptly, “My fingerprints are on file.”
My eyes hold hers. We both know what that means.
Twelve years ago, Nolene was caught outside an upmarket fur store with a firebomb in her car and charged with conspiracy to commit arson.
The prosecutor offered her a reduction in her sentence if she divulged the names of the other activists involved.
Nolene rejected the deal and served three years of her five-year sentence.
“I can’t go back to prison,” she whispers.
At the moment, it looks more and more likely we’ll both land up there. But I can’t have her doing anything stupid. I give her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll do everything I can to protect you.”
She nods, all misplaced trust, and I look away.
Suddenly, I still.
“What is it?” Nolene asks. “What’s wrong?”
I cross to the window and stare out. My bedroom is upstairs and the window overlooks most of the street. “Have you seen that car before?” I ask. “The red Nissan?”
The Nissan is parked two houses away, on the opposite side of the road. From this distance, I can’t make out anyone inside, but the sight of the vehicle sitting there causes uneasiness to climb up my spine.
Nolene moves to stand next to me. “There’s sometimes a car parked on the road, but I don’t remember seeing a Nissan before.”
That means nothing. A good stakeout team will alternate vehicles, change surveillance spots.
“You think it’s the police?” she asks, her breathing accelerating.
“I don’t know. But I don’t like it.”
If it is the police, why haven’t they stormed the house? Why wait? Something doesn’t feel right.
I curl my hand into a fist. Complications have choked this mission from the start. Now events seem to be spiraling out of control. I want to punch something, but I doubt it’ll be enough to ease the pressure building up inside me.
Uncurling my fingers, avoiding the probing look in Nolene’s eyes, I head to the storeroom. “It’s time to leave.”
She pulls on her ski mask and follows me. I open the storeroom door. My heart lurches when I see Amy lying on the floor, unmoving.
“Amy!” I say sharply, kneeling next to her.
She doesn’t respond.
I shake her shoulder gently. “Come on, Amy, wake up.”
Still no response.
“Is she faking it?” Nolene asks.
Amy’s skin is filmed in a clammy sweat. I swallow. “You can’t fake this.”
Nolene removes her ski mask. “Looks like we’ve now got a mental patient on our hands.”
Guilt pierces what’s left of my conscience. Amy has retreated so far inside herself I have no idea how to bring her back. I freeze when I catch sight of her hands. Her fingernails are ragged, four of them bleeding. I glance over at the storeroom door. There are scratch marks on the wood.
What have I done? I wanted to scare Amy into giving up the name of the person she called, but this is another whole level of cruelty. I’m filled with revulsion at the man I have become.
“What do we do with her?” Nolene asks.
“I’ll sedate her for the trip.” I fetch the syringe from my bag. This probably isn’t the wisest move, and it might do more damage than good, but I can’t have Amy waking up and tipping into hysteria. Because of her delicate frame, I give her only a small dose of the sedative.
Sliding an arm under Amy’s shoulders, I pick her up, wincing at the pull on my cut as I cradle her against my chest. An unwelcome feeling of responsibility and protectiveness shoots through me. “Let’s go.”
I place Amy on the back seat of the RAV and cover her with a blanket, making sure her head is protected. Nolene sits with Amy in the back to keep an eye on her.
“Keep out of sight,” I order Nolene, opening the automated garage door. “If Hutchinson managed to trace the call and those are his hired heavies out there, I’m hoping we won’t be followed if they think someone’s still at the house guarding Amy.”
Crouched low, a muffled reply is Nolene’s only response.
I’ll have to come back later for my Land Rover. A sudden convoy of cars leaving will look suspicious. I reverse the RAV out of the garage, remote-open the gate and back out of the driveway onto the street.
The Nissan doesn’t move. I wait for the gate to close.
“What’s happening?” Nolene whispers.
“Nothing so far,” I murmur, my hands gripping the wheel.
The gate closes. I accelerate slowly away from the safe house. My eyes flick to the rearview mirror. The Nissan is still sitting there.
“I think we’re in the clear,” I state, letting out a relieved breath. “Is Amy okay?”
“Amy,” Nolene replies, her voice oozing sarcasm, “is still in straitjacket land.”
“You sure she’s comfortable?”
“She’s fine,” Nolene says dismissively. “Stop worrying.”
But I can’t, wondering what on earth I’m going to do with her when I get to the sanctuary and how I’m going to explain everything to Ross and Merele.
Rolling my shoulders, I speed up slightly and check the rearview mirror again. Alarm rockets through me. “We’re being followed.”
Behind us, the Nissan is maintaining a discreet distance. They—whoever they are—must have someone else monitoring the safe house. Someone I didn’t spot.
“What do we do?” Nolene asks tightly.
“We lose them,” I say, speeding up. “There’s no way I’m leading them to Ross and Mel.”