Chapter 28 Cara
TWENTY-EIGHT
CARA
It may be tempting to try and help wildlife displaced by fires but keep your distance. They are desperate and dangerous.
—@maderaanimalservices
Cara remained as quiet as Fisk all morning, afraid to say anything both because of the assault rifle strapped to his chest and the way he intently scanned for threats every time they neared an exposed rise or open ground.
But when they paused in a protected, shady area so Fisk could examine Maybelline’s hoof, she decided to speak up. If his plans were anything like she’d been imagining, she had to at least try to plead her case.
“Fisk,” she said, as he crouched by the donkey. “I know you said you don’t really care, but I need you to know that I didn’t do what they say I did.”
The goat—Lucretia—tugged a bramble off a bush and chewed it, looking at Cara skeptically.
“I was on a glamping trip with my husband—”
Fisk’s laugh cut her off. “Glamping?”
“Luxury camping,” she said, wincing at the defensiveness in her voice, but glad she had piqued his interest.
“Ruth and Joanie, did you hear that?” Fisk asked the two sheep. To Cara, he said, “These ladies are show-quality California Reds and they’re used to luxury treatment: fresh hay, a mucked stall, and only the best dewormer. Glamping would be right up their alley.”
“Ha.”
Fisk had finished with Maybelline and they set off. “So your husband liked glamping, too?”
“Karl was a plastic surgeon.”
“Naturally,” Fisk said with a chuckle.
“He worked hard, way too hard, and was always antsy to get outdoors. Because I was an influencer”—which had to sound as ridiculous to him as glamping, but she couldn’t hold back anything now—“I was able to arrange an all-expenses-paid weekend getaway for us by agreeing to promote the resort and the activities they offered. He was more than game.”
“What kinds of activities are we talking about?”
“Knife throwing, wood splitting, horseback riding, zip-lining. That sort of thing.”
“Sounds fun enough,” he said, nodding.
“Honestly, I was much more interested in the fancy tent, gourmet meals, and chilled champagne. Plus quality alone time with my husband.”
“A little practice at outdoor activities might have come in handy in your current situation.”
“If only the weekend had gotten that far.” She almost couldn’t finish the sentence.
They hiked in silence, broken by the occasional grunt of an animal and crunching footsteps.
Cara had relived and recounted the story so many times and it never got easier. She told him anyway.
“Jesus,” Fisk said.
He said nothing else for what felt like a mile.
Then, finally: “The spouse is always the most likely suspect.”
“Yes,” Cara admitted. “And I am . . . was . . . infamous for my social media platform, so the authorities never really considered anyone else.”
“What the heck do you mean, infamous?”
“I gave lifestyle advice to women looking for wealthy men.”
“Whoa,” Fisk said, inadvertently causing the animals to halt. “Hell of a career choice.”
“I had tons of brand ambassadorships, and I was making money,” she said defensively, as soon as Fisk clicked his tongue to get Maybelline and the others moving again.
“No one really believes it, but Karl supported my brand. I mean, he didn’t have any social accounts, and he didn’t like appearing on camera, but he was all in when he saw what it did for his practice. People who liked me tracked him down.”
Why hadn’t the forensic accountant mentioned the 20 percent increase in patients when he testified at the trial? Or the extra investors who’d come on board to help Karl build his surgical center? Karl had always kept his business dealings to himself, and she had never bothered to ask.
“Karl and I were opposites in so many ways—age, interests, career paths, you name it—but he was my partner in all things. I married him for love. And yes, security. I grew up with a lot less than I needed, so I’ve always believed in being honest about the need to feel safe, whether emotionally, financially, or both. ”
“I suppose I know a thing about unlikely relationships,” Fisk said, not unkindly.
As they continued on over rocks, through stands of trees, and up and around a ridge, seemingly a million miles from where they’d started, Cara couldn’t help but wonder when they were going to reach wherever it was they were going.
“I’ve shared my story and I haven’t tried to get away,” she said.
“Nope,” he agreed.
“Then why won’t you at least tell me where you’re taking me?”
“Because if you can’t make it all the way, I don’t want you telling the authorities where I am.”
“The middle of nowhere?” she said. “Trust me, if I can’t find my way out on my own, I won’t be able to lead anyone back here.”