“If Alexander was able to get outside, he could have been the one who planted the supplies on this trail.”
“Entirely possible,” Ralph said. “But I don’t think so. You see, as soon as I discovered this lovely path, the painted heart symbols and the supplies, my little brain immediately told me that these were arranged by someone else. Someone who was planning on assisting Alexander in the murders and his escape. Someone who knew the timing of it all. These hearts painted along this path look too new to have been out in this weather too long. They are as fresh as a schoolyard bully’s mouth during recess.”
“Straus?” Derek questioned.
“I do not know who helped Alexander, nor do I know why. But I do know that wherever Alexander is, he didn’t get there by himself. And, while I don’t know for certain, I also believe that whoever called in that note of yours to the rental car place, is the someone who can answer all my questions.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Henry Zudak needed to breathe. He had to alert someone, anyone about what was happening. He heard, though he couldn’t be certain of the exact words used, that Mark Rinaldo was dead. That shocked him more than he thought it would. After all, he knew that Alexander Black had escaped after killing three men inside of William Straus’s lodge, and that one of the victims was Henry’s old co-worker, Peter Adams. Henry also knew that his name was found on a list with a bunch of other names that he recognized and that two of the names, Adams and Curtis, were crossed out in blood. He knew that Alexander would be looking for him and for Mark, but, still, the shock of hearing that Mark was dead was hard to handle.
Then there was the more pressing issue of breathing. He certainly had enough experience remembering how to breathe when stressed. The months after the whole “O’Connell incident,” as he began to refer to it as, found him suffering from near-constant panic attacks.
The psychologist he met with told him that panic attacks are nothing more than his body not knowing how to process an overload of stressors hitting it all at once. He prescribed a mild sedative to help Henry through the more troubling attacks and suggested that Henry learn some “yoga breathing exercises” to help manage the more “palatable” attacks.
Henry was certain that he packed his sedatives when he hurriedly threw his suitcase together, and he knew exactly where he placed the plastic amber-colored bottle when he unpacked that very same suitcase just two days ago.
“On the sink, next to the toothpaste, behind the folded washcloths,” he thought to himself. If only he could reach them from where he was kneeling. Though he wasn’t sure that the pills would really do him any good, the thought of getting to them at least gave him something to shoot for.
A goal.
An objective beyond his primal objective of breathing.
He knew he couldn’t talk and ask whoever it was standing behind him holding the rope tightly across his windpipe for a quick time-out. He had tried screaming to get the attention of anyone who may be in the room next door or even out in the hallway, but his scream was locked deep in his lungs.
And as black speckles began to fully cloud his vision, he accepted that breathing would not be something he would be doing anytime soon. Certainly not in time to save himself.
As the black speckles began to flash at their outer edges, Henry gave up the goal of getting to his pills and turned his thoughts to his wife. Her name was Abigail, and she would soon be getting back to the hotel room. He wished that the last thing he said to her had been “I love you” instead of “Make sure that no one follows you back from the store, and please don’t forget to pick up some Fritos.”
“Damn,” he thought as the black speckles covered his entire vision. “Damn.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Derek and Ralph had just finished ordering breakfast when Derek’s cell phone began to vibrate. Glancing at the caller ID, he saw that his client, Thomas O’Connell was calling.
“It’s my client,” Derek said to Ralph. “Should I take the call outside?”
“Well, if it’s all the same to you, I sure would like to hear what that client of yours has to say.”
Derek knew that Ralph was sticking his neck out by allowing him to be part of the investigation, and though Derek believed that maintaining his client’s confidentiality was of high importance, he also didn’t want to make Ralph think he was keeping information from him.
“How about we step outside, and I’ll put the speaker phone on?”
“I like the way you think, Derek Cole.”
Derek answered the call and quickly told Thomas to “hold for one second” while he and Ralph made their way out of the small diner and into Derek’s rental car.
“Okay, Thomas. I’m back. Had to get somewhere quiet. Is everything okay with you?”
“Fine. What did you find out in Albany? Did that ass-backwards police chief get in your way?”
Derek glanced at Ralph, apologizing for his client’s remarks. Ralph blinked an eye and nodded his head towards Derek’s cell phone.
“No problem at all. Have you heard from your parents yet?”
“Yes, and that’s one of the reasons I am calling you. My father called me around 11:00 last night to tell me that he and my mom are safe and sound in the Bahamas. I assume you don’t want to know which island they are on nor which hotel they are staying at?”
“Correct. If I need to know, I’ll find out. Did you talk with both your parents?”
“Yes. Why do you ask that?”
“Just want to make sure they’re both safe.”