Chapter 11
She was in her office in St. Alban’s when Lyle MacAuley checked in with her Tuesday morning. “I’ve got good news and bad news.”
“Well, I’m all about the good news, so hit me up.”
“A combined force of DEC rangers and sheriff’s deputies are going to hit the militia camp today. They’ve got a warrant for a weapons search, but we’ll get Russ out of there.”
“Oh, thank God!” She looked out the diamond-paned window next to her desk. Through the wavy glass, gray skies promised more snow soon. “How are they managing the risk? These are people who fired on an airplane circling overhead. If that’s not trigger-happy, I don’t know what is.”
“Everyone’ll be in protective gear, and they’ve got two snipers embedded, just in case. They’ve had an extensive briefing; the goal is to come in fast and establish communications right away. Let the militia know it’s just a search.”
“And if they start firing anyway?”
“Then they back off, set a perimeter, and call in the staties, because that’ll be a much bigger deal.” His voice gentled. “But, Reverend, you and I both know Russ. If everyone in that camp is focused on keeping our guys out, they won’t be spending time keeping him in. He’ll use that.”
She sighed. “Okay. What’s the bad news?”
“We haven’t been able to locate Cal March.”
Her wooden chair creaked as she leaned back. “Ugh.”
“Warren County’s checked his house twice. The only friends your gal identified were other suspected militia members, and none of them are home, either. I went to his depot myself. There was one guy working there, said he hadn’t seen March in a couple days.”
“Could he have taken one of his trucks?”
“Maybe. We’ve got an ATL—an attempt to locate—out on his personal vehicle, but I’ll need a separate warrant for his business registrations.”
She stood up. Oscar, curled on his bed, lifted his head to check if they were going anywhere. “Are you keeping an eye on Margy’s place?”
“We always keep an eye on Mrs. Van Alstyne’s house.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “And on the rectory.” He grew more serious. “You shouldn’t be at St. Alban’s. It’s too open.”
“Christmas is coming at me like a runaway Zamboni, Lyle. I have to be here for a few hours, at least. We’ve got the doors locked, and anyone who needs to come in either already has a key or can call the church office.
I’ve also let the wardens—they’re responsible for the physical plant—know what’s going on.
If the alarm goes off, they can be at the church in minutes. ”
“You’re not going back to the rectory when you’re done, are you?”
“Nope, I’m headed straight for my mother-in-law’s. And yes, she has security alarms, too.”
“Give me a call when you leave and when you get there.”
She grinned. “You sound just like Russ.”
“Who do you think taught him everything he knows?”
She was as good as her word. As she pulled away from the church, she left a message on Lyle’s phone and also let Margy know she was coming back. “Do you need me to pick up anything on my way?”
“No thanks, sweetie, I’m taking Tiny out shopping as soon as you get here, if you don’t mind staying with the babies. The poor girl—your clothes are too tall, and mine are too wide, and she’s been wearing the same panties for three days. We’re going to the Target to set her up.”
Margy’s car was already warming up when Clare pulled into the driveway of her mother-in-law’s pocket-sized Greek Revival. She opened the gate to the fenced-in backyard and Oscar bounded through, happy to spend a half hour or so snuffling around the drifted leaves and peeing on every bush and tree.
The two women were pulling on their parkas when Clare entered the kitchen. “Ethan took a whole bottle and passed out like a python who ate a pig.” Margy picked up her recyclable shopping bags from the table. “He and Rosie are upstairs in the crib.”
“It’s her usual afternoon nap time, too.” Tiny looked toward the stairs. “Are you going to be all right with both of them?”
Clare smiled up from where she was pulling off her boots. “I think I can handle two sleeping babies.”
“This is the first time I’ve been away from her since she was born.”
Margy took her arm. “Then it’s high time. Let’s get going. Clare, we’ll see you later. You’re making dinner, text me and let me know if you need anything.”
Clare was laughing as she went upstairs to change out of her clericals.
There were only two rooms tucked under the eaves: one for adult guests and one for the grandchildren, with two twin beds jammed foot-to-foot beneath the window and a crib against the other wall.
She peeked in on the babies. Her mother had told her the utter cuteness of sleeping infants was what kept their parents from exposing them on a mountainside, and Clare thought it might be true.
She put on jeans and a sweater and went back downstairs to figure out what she was going to cook. Oscar was barking furiously; the squirrels in Margie’s oak tree must be taunting him again.
She was looking in the pantry when the door opened. “What did you forget?” She turned around.
“Nothin’.” Cal March shut the door behind him. The gun pointed toward Clare didn’t waver. “Hi.” He smiled. “I bet you thought you’d really pulled it off when you lost me the other day. But you didn’t even notice me following you here.” He shook his head. “All you bitches are alike.”
She’d been looking for a box truck. Stuck on one idea, not considering he might have gotten a car. Stupid. Stupid. “I called the police when I left the church. If I don’t check in now I’m here, they’ll send an officer to this address.”
“Oh, no!” He waved one hand in the air. “Not an officer of the law!” He gestured with his gun. “Let’s get to it, then.”
“Tiny’s not here.” As soon as she said it, she knew she’d made a mistake. “And the baby’s with her.”
“Really? ’Cause it didn’t look like it when I saw her and the old lady turning up the end of the street. How ’bout we take a look around, just in case you might be lying to my face.”
“There’s already an arrest warrant out for you. You don’t want to do this.”
“Bitch, I’ll shoot you right here. Wrap you up and drop you someplace in the woods and they’ll never find you. Open the doors here.”
She opened the doors off the kitchen, revealing the bathroom and Margy’s bedroom. Cal gestured her inside. “Open the closet door.” She opened it. He picked up a framed photo from the dresser. “Aw, look at you all pretty in your wedding dress. This your mom’s place?”
“Yes.”
He shook his head. “She’s got three other pictures of this guy, and no more of you. You really love to lie, don’t you? You know what happens to liars? I don’t have to kill you to hurt you bad. Look at me.”
She looked at him.
“No more lies.”
She nodded.
“Say it.”
“No more lies.”
“Good. Back to the kitchen.”
Cal glanced at the screened-in porch at the back of the house, stripped down for the season and empty. He gestured toward the living room. Clare backed in all the way to the unused front door.
“Cozy. I like it.” Cal pointed to the stairs. “You go first. Put your hands on your head and lock your fingers.”
She did so. With every step, she could feel her heart pounding, her muscles shaking, the rush of her blood almost deafening. “Keep going. Right into the bathroom. Oh, here we are. Here’s my little girl. Okay, come out.”
She emerged from the powder room. Cal was looming over the crib, his gun large and obscene and terrifying. “Pack up her stuff for me.”
“Cal, don’t do this. Don’t take the baby. Take me instead. Don’t take the baby.”
He smiled. “Maybe I should take both of ’em. I wanted a boy.”
After she came home from Iraq, Clare had vowed to never touch a weapon again, but if Russ’s Glock were at hand she would have emptied the whole clip into Cal March’s face with no regret.
Instead, she picked up the overnighter she’d loaned Tiny and began putting Rose’s clothing and blanket and diapers in it.
“Good. Get her snowsuit on her.”
Clare eased Rose into the thickly padded one-piece. The baby whined a complaint and batted at Clare’s hands.
“You carry her downstairs. Back to the kitchen.”
Rose laid her head on Clare’s shoulder and fell back asleep. Ethan, mercifully, hadn’t stirred. Clare walked carefully down the stairs and crossed through the living room.
“You got something for her to eat in here?”
“Her formula and some baby food, yes.”
Tiny had left her diaper bag hanging from one of the coat hooks by the door. Cal set it on the table and unzipped it. “In here.”
Clare squatted to retrieve jars of bananas and peas and meat puree from the lower cabinet, balancing Rose against her chest. The can of formula and a spare bottle were on the counter. Clare held it up. “Do you know how to prepare this?”
“Trust me, if Tiny can do it, it ain’t that hard. Throw it in.”
Clare added a small feeding spoon, a bib, and a face cloth. It felt like aiding and abetting, but the last thing she wanted was for Rose to get hungry and dirty.
“Out the door.”
“Can I put my boots on?”
“Can I put my boots on?” he mocked. “I thought you were tough. Knocking me down, threatening me with the cops. You can make it to the car in your sneakers.”
She stepped out of the kitchen, Rose over one shoulder and the diaper bag over the other. There was a mud-splattered SUV parked behind her Subaru. She walked toward it. Behind the fence, Oscar was howling.
“Open the front door.”
“She should be in the back.”
“I said open the front door!”
Clare swung the door open. “There’s no baby seat.”
“Kids rode around in cars for fifty years without baby seats. She’ll be fine.”
“Please. The back would at least be safer. Please.”
“I want to keep her right close to me, in case there’s trouble.”
Clare laid Rose on her side, curled against the back of the seat. “If you let me have the blanket, it’ll pad her against the seat belt.”
Cal handed her the overnighter. “Help yourself.”
She folded the fuzzy blanket and set it against the baby’s chest before clipping the seat belt in place. She set both bags on the floor and stepped away, hands raised. “Please, Cal. I’m begging you. Don’t hurt her. Please don’t hurt her.”
“I told you I was going to take back what’s mine. Do you remember what else I said?”
Clare nodded.
“What was it?”
It took her two tries to get her voice out. “You were going to hurt me.”
“Turn around.”
She couldn’t stop her shaking. Then, a rustle and a snap and a crushing pain in her skull and her cry was silent as she blacked out.