was all she had left of him —
Holding her breath she lifted one shaking foot and made a wide step over the blood.
In her bedroom she pulled a small suitcase from the closet and threw in two changes of clothes. She hurried into the bathroom to snatch up toiletries. Then she carried the suitcase into Tammy’s room and threw it on the bed. In went two pairs of pants, underwear, and two tops. Tammy’s hairbrush and an old pair of pajamas. The pink pair lay in the corner where Lorraine had thrown them this morning, stained with patches of red.
Lorraine yanked the zipper shut and lugged the suitcase from the room.
At the end of the hallway, clutching the suitcase with both hands, she pressed against one wall and skirted around the stain on the floor. After peeking through a window to check the lot, she rushed out the door and slammed it behind her without looking back.
Spent, she sagged against the doorpost and breathed.
As she carried the suitcase to her van, Lorraine’s eyes pulled toward storage unit seven.
With the bag stowed in the passenger seat, Lorraine found herself staring at the unit again. She narrowed her eyes, biting one side of her cheek.
She could call Detective Tuckney right now and tell him her suspicions. But that would only drag Martin into the robbery. No way would the detective think the money being hidden on this property was a coincidence. Besides, right now she could at least hope Martin’s killer wouldn’t come back for her. If she talked, her life wouldn’t be worth two cents. Then what would happen to Tammy?
A series of insane thoughts catapulted through Lorraine’s mind. Slowly her head pulled back.
Her gaze raked toward the office.
An unseen hand pulled Lorraine across the concrete toward unit seven. She looked up and down the street running along the far side of the lot but saw no sign of someone parked and watching. At the unit, glancing around again, she moved in close to examine the lock. She lifted it up in her palm. It was a strong padlock. The best.
Her gaze rested on the door’s hasp.
Lorraine strode back to the van and snatched her purse from under the front seat. She pulled out the key to the office and returned the bag.
As she entered the dim office, Lorraine told herself this was as far as her crazy idea would go. Tomorrow she would come to her senses.
The cabinet door squeaked as she opened it.
Mr. Houger’s long-handled, powerful bolt cutter sat on the bottom shelf. She should use it, he’d told her, only when a renter defaulted long enough on payment that the contents of his storage unit could legally be put up for sale. In that case an auctioneer would come in, people bidding on the contents of the unit as a whole. Some auctioneers brought their own bolt cutters for the padlock. Others expected him to furnish it. Mr. Houger showed her how to work the tool, its long handles providing leverage to move the blades together. “Takes some power,” he said, “but it works. Most padlocks are less strong than the hasps on our doors. But if the padlock’s impossible to break this way, go for the hasp.”
Lorraine didn’t tell him she’d used a bolt cutter before. In high school one of her friends lost the key to a padlock she’d used to chain up her bike. Her father had a bolt cutter, but he was at work. Lorraine had managed to break through the lock.
She lifted Mr. Houger’s tool from the cabinet, plus a pair of thick gloves lying beside it.
At the office door she poked her head out and looked around, heart beating in her ears.
Holding the items close to her body, Lorraine pulled the door shut. She hurried to the van and opened up the expansive, empty back. From every direction eyes seemed to follow her. But she saw no one.
Lorraine laid the items on the floor of the van and closed it up.
Her hands trembled as she started the engine. Pulling out of the parking space, she stopped for a long, aching look at Martin’s abandoned car.
She drove back to Michelle’s house to pick up Tammy, telling herself how stupid she was. She’d never go through with this. Not in a million years.
Even so, her rebellious mind sifted through details of a plan.
PART 3
George Patton
THIRTY-NINE
Nearly midnight. Clouds had clustered in, gobbling up the moon and stars.
Restless and nerve-ridden, Kaycee huddled in her den on the old brown couch she’d inherited from her mother. Both arms were wrapped around her drawn-up knees. She stared unseeing at some rerun of a legal drama on TV. Every room in the house blazed with light. The porch lamps in front and back were on. All blinds and curtains were drawn.
Hours ago she’d watched as Officer Statler dusted her front and back doorways, the kitchen table, and her office desk. Of course he lifted fingerprints. But how many would be her own? In her heart Kaycee knew her watchers would not be so careless as to leave such evidence behind. They were far too cunning for that.
Heart skidding and palms moist, Kaycee then had walked through the house with Officer Statler, checking every room. All clear, he pronounced, but she didn’t believe it. As she watched him drive away, the living room seemed to close in on her, vibrating with unseen evil. For a wild moment she pictured alien eyes in the framework of the walls, watching.
This plan was crazy. If they were watching, they’d know full well who Mrs. Foley’s visitor was. The civilian clothes and baseball cap wouldn’t throw them at all. Plus, they’d know another officer was hiding in the black barn. These people were all-seeing, omniscient. They even messed with her dreams.
What would happen if they didn’t show up tonight? How many nights would she have to go through this?
Kaycee snatched up the remote and hit the channel button. A crime show blitzed on. Great, just what she needed.
Mark had called Kaycee’s cell an hour ago as she paced her kitchen. “Just want you to know I’m here and set up.” He spoke in low tones with a certain hesitation, as if his concentration lay elsewhere.
“Where are you?”
“In the kitchen, watching your backyard. I can see this side of your house from here, but not the front door. Officer Nelson’s got that and his side of your place covered.”
