“You’re saying your godfather was afraid to climb stairs? That’s the biggest bunch of bullshit I ever heard.”
“Not to him it wasn’t. No one outside the family knew about it. It wasn’t the sort of thing you want to get out in a community. You know how people are, Donnie. People are always looking to feel better about themselves by seeing weakness in others.”
“So he didn’t climb stairs?”
“No, of course he climbed stairs. But it made him nervous. Even during the day. When there was plenty of light.”
“And at night?”
“He lived in a ranch-style house for a reason. All his rooms were on one floor for a reason. Walk down the stairs to the cellar? At night? No way, especially if he’d been drinking, and it was raining and he had to worry about water at the base of the stairs. But hey, what do I know? People do stupid things all the time. Maybe he got so drunk it loosened him up and he forgot about his phobia. Like I said, I wanted to know before. But that was then, and this is now.”
Donnie stared at me with a blank expression. There were two possibilities. First, he’d killed my godfather, and he was disappointed to hear there was a case to be made that his death was not accidental. Second, he wasn’t involved in my godfather’s killing, but he’d been in business with him. Perhaps there was an unresolved element to their arrangement. Maybe Donnie was owed money. If he’d heard me asking questions about my godfather’s death, he might have assumed my godfather and I had been close, wondered what else I knew. But now that he realized I didn’t know anything, he might consider me dispensable. Had I been a fool by speaking honestly? Had I written my own death certificate?
“You were honest,” he said. “I can tell. I appreciate that.” He patted my shoulder. “You were a woman of your word, and I’m going to be a man of my word.”
Donnie wasn’t reacting like a man who’d committed a murder and was worried about someone outing him. A man like that wouldn’t take any chances, I thought. He’d have killed me by now.
“I’m free to go?”
“Almost.” He moved next to the adjustable brackets. “Give me your left leg.”
“Why?” I choked on the word.
Donnie looked incredulous. “Because you’re right-handed, which means you favor your right leg, too. It’s not like I don’t care about you, you know.”
“No. I mean, why do you need either of my legs?”
“Because you’ve got to give me something.”
“What do you mean, give you something?”
“You’ve got to give me something to prove to me that you’re going to keep your mouth shut and not interfere with my business.”
I knew what he meant even before he pulled a rubber mallet from beneath the contraption. He was going to break my leg. My left one, that was, because he was a nice guy and he cared about me. And there was nothing I could do about it.
I had no hope of overpowering him physically. If I made a run for the rear exit he’d wring my neck before I got one foot out the door. Even worse, if I tried to escape, I knew he might hurt me in a way that time and a cast might not heal.
“Don’t worry,” he said, as he handed me a mouth guard. “I’ve done this before. It’ll be a clean break.”
I barely heard his words. I was too busy repeating the ones I’d spoken to myself less than five minutes ago.
The woman who keeps her emotions at bay can find the way out.
Black splotches dotted my vision. Bolts of panic paralyzed me. All I could imagine was the sound of a bone breaking, an excruciating pain unlike any I’d felt before.
But I didn’t fight the panic. I let my vision right itself. Surrendered to my wandering mind and let the visions slide. The experiences of my childhood had brought me face-to-face with fear before. I still had time. I still had a few seconds left.
I can find the way out.
I will find the way out.
CHAPTER 6
Nadia stood in front of her lean-to staring down the barrel of the gun fearing her heart might stop beating any second. She hadn’t been this scared since she forgot the Ukrainian words to Hail Mary while saying morning prayers in her parents’ bedroom. Her father had been shaving at the time, and when her voice stopped he bounded out of the bathroom, face foaming with lather, and slapped her in the head so hard she fell over and broke her nose.
She’d seen guns before. Some of the counselors for the boys — ROTC types that didn’t party with the girl counselors — brought their hunting rifles with them to summer camp. But this gun was different. It was shiny and beautiful. This one looked more like something a private eye on TV would carry to look cool. Whatever it was, it sure didn’t belong in the forest. Neither did its owner or his girlfriend.
“Sorry, kid,” the Kangaroo said, as he lowered the barrel of the gun toward the ground. “I have a bad back. This thing weighs so much I took it out of the knapsack and stuck it in my belt. But that’s no good either. I didn’t mean to pull it out and scare you.”
Nadia breathed easier. Only then did she realize her teeth were chattering.
“I told you not to bring it,” the Giraffe said. “But you had to be such a man, didn’t you? As if the entire camping thing wasn’t stupid enough, you had to go bring that gun with you. What you should have brought was something for all these damn mosquitoes.” She slapped her neck. “I hate insects. I hate the outdoors. I hate this place, and I fucking hate you.”
Nadia’s mouth fell open. A woman giving her man the f-word? That was unbelievable. If her mother had ever said that to her father? Oh, man. That would have been ugly.
“Let’s make the best of it,” the Kangaroo said, “and focus on the task at hand.”
The Giraffe swatted at her ears again. “This is ridiculous. They’re eating me alive here. You’re a banker,” she said, spitting the words at her boyfriend. “You belong in the city. I’m a law student. I belong in the city. What possessed you to drag me out here to this godforsaken, living hell? And what possessed me to say yes? This is the stupidest decision I’ve ever made in my life.”
The Kangaroo shook his head in frustration. He knelt down by the fire so he was eye to eye with Nadia and smiled.
“Honey, is there an adult with you nearby?”
His choice of words dropped him a notch right away. Nadia hated to be called “honey.” It was thick, sweet, and came in a jar. None of those descriptions applied to her.
“Nope,” Nadia said. “I’m alone.”
The Kangaroo laughed in disbelief. “No way. You’re alone? You can’t be alone.”
Nadia explained that she was alone on a Ukrainian girl scout survival test, and that her father or brother were camping somewhere on the trail, probably half a mile or so away. At least that was her best guess.
The Giraffe was smiling at her now, too. It was a heckuva smile. Nadia imagined being half as pretty as this woman. She’d have friends and no one would pick on her. What a life that would have been.
The Giraffe said, “Do you have a walkie-talkie from RadioShack or something like that, to talk to your father or brother? If there’s an emergency?”
“Nope,” Nadia said. “All I have is a whistle. I’m only supposed to use it if I’m in serious trouble. Like, really serious. But I do know the way back to the trail if you’re lost.”