we’re in danger?”

“Gilbert Stone,” Lou said, clenching his battered hands. “He did a lot of research on me. My arrest, our divorce, my reinstatement by the medical board. I have no reason to believe all that information hasn’t found its way to Chester.”

“It’s not your fault,” Renee said. “This is the information age, and Stone is-was-the police, and Chester has boatloads of money. If they want us, they’ll find us eventually.”

“Eventually isn’t now. You can’t go to Nana’s, though.”

“Why not?”

“For all the reasons you just said. If they can get to you, they can get to your mother. What about Steve?”

“What about him?”

“Does his company have a retreat-someplace you’ve never been?”

Renee thought a moment. “No, but a partner at his law firm has a place in the Adirondacks that he keeps offering to Steve. A fishing cabin, I think.”

“Perfect. Call Steve, now. Tell him you all need to go there right away. Make him believe you.”

Lou watched the color drain from Renee’s face. “I’m sorry, Lou. I really am.”

No casting blame. No poor us.

This was a hell of a woman.

Those thoughts segued into images of Darlene.

Was it possible? he found himself wondering. Was there any way it could happen between them? Given their situation, given his predicament at the moment, all he could do was smile inwardly. The answers to any questions about him and Darlene Mallory were more than clear: not in this lifetime.

First things first, Cap would remind him. First things first. And the first thing here was to survive William Chester and find a way to bring him down.

“Lou, don’t let anything happen to Em,” Renee said, sobbing now.

He held her tightly while he tried to quell his own fears. Then he rocked her in his arms, stroking her hair in the way that was still familiar after so many years.

“Nothing’s going to happen to her,” he said once, then again. “Nothing’s going to happen to her, or you … or Steve.” Lou closed his eyes and whispered the word hush, over and over again until her sobbing subsided.

When Renee pulled away, the anxiety in her eyes had been replaced by resolve. “Go shower off,” she said. “I’ll call Steve and then I’ll get you some clothes.”

She took a few steps toward the kitchen phone, then stopped.

“Lou, how are these people in Kings Ridge being infected by the corn? If it’s not an airborne contagion, like you originally thought, then how?”

Lou bit at his lip. “I can’t figure it out,” he said. “I’ve about torn my brain in half, and I just can’t figure it out.”

Renee returned to the living room after calling her husband. “He’s on his way,” she said. “He didn’t doubt the urgency for a second. He trusts you, Lou. That says a lot.”

“I’ll help you pack, as soon as I wash off,” he said.

Renee paused. “Who are the people you know of who have been affected?” she asked.

Lou listed off the names.

“Now, what do they have in common?”

“Nothing except the obvious, as far as I can tell,” he said.

“No … if the symptoms aren’t the result of something airborne, then there’s got be a physical factor linking them,” she said. “You’re just too close to it, that’s all.”

“Maybe. Maybe so. Listen, Renee, you need to pack. Chester has enough money to get at you unless we make it nearly impossible.”

“Okay, okay. Just think about it, though.” Her voice trailed off.

Lou followed her upstairs and showered in the guest bathroom. Renee was right. There had to be a connection.

Lou couldn’t dwell long on the possibilities. Steve worked in D.C. and would be home soon. Renee had her suitcase at the top of the stairs. The sooner they were on their way, the better, and even then he wouldn’t feel safe until he heard they had arrived at the cabin without incident.

He went to Emily’s room and helped her gather her things.

“What’s really going on, Dad?” she asked, her eyes moist.

Lou patted the edge of her twin bed, and she sat down beside him. The nearness of her comforted him and calmed him more than any medication ever could have. “Like I said, there is a very bad man who wants to hurt me and anyone close to me. He’s angry because I can prove the corn he’s selling is responsible for that doctor who shot all those people.”

“Dr. Meacham, your client from the Wellness Office,” she said.

Lou reminded himself never to underestimate or talk down to his daughter. Thirteen going on thirty. “Exactly,” he said. “I’m going to go speak to the police, and we’re going to do what we can to put a stop to this and put him in jail where he belongs. You can help by doing what Mom tells you. Okay?”

“Dad, I’m scared.”

“I understand,” he said. “I’m a little scared myself. But once you’re away and safe, no one can hurt you and I’ll have time to go and talk to the police. It won’t be long. I promise.”

Emily wrapped her arms around him and he allowed her to cry until she was able to stop. He was still holding her when an incongruous image popped into his head. It was the image of pathetic Roberta Jennings, seated in her living room, swollen ankles folded over the tops of her shoes.

Tell, me, Mrs. Jennings, did you have any interactions with Dr. Meacham outside of the clinic? Were you involved in any clubs together? Community organizations? Church groups? Anything like that?

And at that instant, the missing piece fell into place and he knew.

Together, he and Emily moved the suitcases downstairs.

Lou was getting a glass of water in the kitchen when he felt his cell phone vibrating in the pocket of the sweatpants Renee had given him. It was a text message from an unfamiliar number.

Darlene?

Lou clicked the message icon, and a photo appeared. His breathing stopped. The picture was of Cap and George. Both men were blindfolded, with their hands bound and suspended above their heads by chains. They were imprisoned inside what appeared to be the boxcar of a train. He could make out the train’s open side door, as well as some spray-painted writing on the interior wall. A message accompanied the photograph.

Come to the Chester Enterprises grain silo in Monroe, West Virginia by eight o’clock sharp, or the next picture I send will have your friends’ throats slit open. Tip off the police or anyone else and I’ll kill both of them as slowly and painfully as possible, and then, your wife, Renee and your daughter, 13-y.o. Emily. We need to talk.

“Damn.”

“What’s going on?” Renee asked from the living room. “What was that?”

“Cap,” he said. “It was Cap.” He averted his eyes, but not too much. Like their daughter, Renee was a smart bomb for the truth.

“Anything important?”

“Not really,” Lou said, unable to keep himself from shaking. “He just wants to get together is all. Listen, can you all take Steve’s car and let me have yours? The Mercedes is virtually undrivable.”

“No problem. Just put your shot-up one in the driveway. The neighbors don’t take kindly to folks who let such things happen to a Mercedes. Here are the keys to my BMW. You bring it back with the windshields all busted out, and you’re going to have to open up a lemonade stand to pay for it.”

“You have maps in your car?”

“A terrific GPS and a whole road atlas, why?”

Вы читаете Oath of Office
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