Had she stayed with him she would have been dead within the year, of that she was certain. He might have let Danny live, but what life would he have had with such a man? So they ran, and in doing so contaminated every life that they touched, and now Patricia and Bill were dead because of them.
Then there was Karen. They had stayed in touch and Marianne had recently sent her a photo of Danny on his last birthday, a smear of chocolate cake across his face and a cardboard crown on his head, his name spelled out on it in colored letters. She had sent the photograph from Boston during a shopping trip, her first foray out of Maine since they’d arrived there, sunglasses permanently perched on her nose to hide her eyes, her hair tied up tight in a bun, her face unadorned by makeup and therefore, she thought, unremarkable. She had called Karen a little later that evening from a telephone at South Station before catching her bus back north. The number that Karen had given her was a private, unlisted second line. Only a handful of people, family and friends mostly, had the number. If she was away from the phone, the call was automatically redirected to her private cell. Day or night, Karen would answer a call that came through on one of those phones.
But when Marianne had called earlier, there had been no reply. Did Karen tell, she wondered? Probably, but not willingly. Marianne felt no bitterness, no anger, that Karen had revealed their location to Moloch. Instead, there was only the same terrible guilt that she felt over her sister and Bill. Her stupidity and her selfishness had exposed them to terrible harm, and they had paid the ultimate price for their affection for her. She hoped only that Karen had told all that she knew early on and had spared herself some pain at the end.
Now Bonnie’s house was coming into view. Marianne braked and killed the lights, but the house was quiet as she approached, only her friend’s rust-bucket Plymouth in the drive. Through the living room window she could see Bonnie snoozing in front of the television. She pulled up hard outside the window, the gravel beneath the wheels making a sound like the breaking of waves, then she ran to the door and knocked hard. It took Bonnie a couple of seconds to get to the door.
“Where’s Danny?” she said when she was facing the older woman.
Bonnie stepped back to let her in. “He’s in bed. You can leave him there if you like. Hey, honey-” She reached for Marianne, but Marianne pulled away from her and headed for the stairs. “What’s the matter?”
She took the steps two at a time, Bonnie close behind. Marianne pushed the bedroom door hard and saw one empty bed in the twinbed room. In the other, Danny lay sleeping. She sagged back against the wall, put her hands on her knees, and lowered her head in relief.
“Aw, hell,” said Bonnie. “Richie must have sneaked out. I don’t believe that boy. I’ll have to call Joe and get him to keep an eye out for him.”
Marianne laid a hand on her wrist.
“I need to get Danny out of here before you call anyone, Bonnie.”
“But Richie is out there.”
“He’s always out there, Bon. I need to get Danny away from here.”
“Why? Have I done something wrong?”
“Bonnie, I can’t explain it all, not now, but there are men coming and they’re going to make trouble for Danny and me. I need to get us both away from the house, then find a way off the island.”
Bonnie looked distraught. “Honey, you’re making no sense. What men? If you’re in trouble, we have to call the police.”
Marianne shook her head. She wanted to grab Bonnie and force her to understand. She wanted to strike out at someone and ease some of her rage and fear. Most of all, she wanted to take Danny in her arms and get him away from here. They were coming. Moloch and his men were coming. For all she knew, they were already moving purposefully toward her home, trying to smell her out.
“No, no police. I did something bad a few years ago. I had to do it. I had to get Danny away and keep us both safe. Now I have to move again. Bonnie, please, help me get him dressed.”
Bonnie reached out and took her by the shoulders. “Look,” she said. “If there’s one thing I know about, it’s men, men gone bad or men who were bad to begin with. If these people have tracked you down once, then they can do it again. You can’t run away for the rest of your life. You need to talk to Joe. You need to trust him.”
“Bonnie, I broke the law. I took money that didn’t belong to me. If I can get off the island with Danny, I can make this okay.”
“Honey, you can’t get off the island. It’s snowing hard, in case you haven’t noticed. They’ve taken all the boats off the water. It was on the news. No taxi is going to come all the way out here now, and nobody on the island is going to take a boat out in this weather. It’s too risky.”
Marianne almost gave up then. It was all too much. She should stop running. She should tell Joe everything. Better still, she should just lie down in front of her house, Danny in her arms, and wait for them to find her. Then it would all be over and they could rest at last, together.
“Bonnie,” she said, and this time the tone in her voice made the older woman flinch. “I have to go.”
Tell stared down the barrel of the gun at Willard. The sound of the hammer clicking emptily still seemed to hang in the air. Tell felt it echoing through his brain. Looking into Willard’s eyes, he knew that it sounded his death knell as surely as if it were he that was looking into the muzzle of the gun and the weapon was about to discharge a shot straight into his brain. He swallowed, then swiped the barrel wildly at Willard. Willard dodged it easily and something flashed in his hand. Tell experienced a fierce pain in his belly as the blade entered. Willard rose, forcing the blade up as he did so, and the tearing began. Tell could smell Willard’s breath against his face. It smelled sweet, like cheap perfume.
“I could see it in your eyes,” Willard whispered. “I could smell what you were planning to do before we ever left the dock. It was seeping through your pores with your sweat. You should never have let that gun out of your sight.”
Tell shuddered against the blade, his hands clutching tightly at Willard’s shoulders.
“He told you to do this, didn’t he? He told you to kill me.”
Tell tried to speak, but only blood came from his mouth.
“Good-bye,” said Willard as Tell died against him.
Marianne had Danny, bleary-eyed and irascible at being woken from his sleep, dressed within five minutes. She left Bonnie standing at her front door, looking anxiously after her as she headed for their house. They would need clothes, toiletries. Most of all, they would need the money. She strapped Danny into his seat and glanced at her watch. There wasn’t much time left. She started the car and hit the headlights. Behind her, Danny had already dozed off to sleep again.
God, Danny, I’m sorry for this. I’m so sorry.
As soon as Marianne was gone from sight, Bonnie Claeson went straight to the liquor cabinet and poured herself a vodka. She looked at it, then on impulse walked to the kitchen and poured the drink down the sink.
She was worried about Marianne and Danny, but more than that, she was worried about Richie. He probably hadn’t gone far, and nothing had ever happened to him during his wanderings on the island. He knew it well and usually stayed close to the roads and trails. But the weather was turning real bad and that was a factor her son wouldn’t have taken into account on his latest nocturnal ramble. No, she had to call Joe, for all of their sakes.
She walked into the hallway, picked up the phone, and began to dial, then stopped. There was no dial tone. She replaced the receiver and tried again, but it remained silent.
No, not quite silent. She could hear faint noises. It was like holding a shell to one’s ear and hearing, if only ever so faintly, the sound of the sea.
Then she heard Richie’s voice.