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  “Oh indeed he does,” Chandler said. “Jeanette, would you mind…?”

  Jeanette looked as though she minded very much indeed, but in a minute Fred was sitting in a chair down the table with his hands free and the blindfold off. She cuffed him to the chair and in the manner of a teenager being told to clean her room, managed not to spill the glass half full of wine that she plonked on the table in front of Fred. She glanced at Chandler and poured herself a glass.

  I had to think, I had to think, but it felt like it was too much. Darren was going to die, and Fred, and maybe Luke, if I didn’t do this right.

  “Stuff is strong,” I said pleasantly to Chandler. “Nice.”

  I looked at Fred then, looked at his eyes and tried to convey a message of apology, and strength, and to give him a trust me vibe. Jeanette was watching me carefully, but Chandler had gotten up and was ladling out a bowl of stew for Fred.

  Fred didn’t look at me. He looked at the table in front of him. He didn’t look like he was there at all. He hadn’t touched his wine, or moved his hands from his lap after Jeanette had removed the handcuffs. I thought he was probably drugged. Not crack, there’s no way he would smoke it, and he certainly didn’t look high. He just looked… gone. Broken.

  I looked around me as though studying the architecture and design elements of the room. Weapons. In any room, you can find something to use as a weapon to protect yourself. Five minutes ago, I would just have worried about killing Chandler and probably Jeanette and saving Luke. Now I had a catatonic Fred on my hands.

  Miller wasn’t taking Fred to prison, he was taking him to Maine. They’d probably gotten on a private plane five minutes after we did. Maybe with Lola in tow. A plane that had dropped Miller off in Toronto to help torture Gene.

  Fred was here, sitting feet away from me, and he was completely devoid of any means to protect himself. He had never had any physical ability that I had seen, and whatever drug he had been given – or maybe he had just crawled somewhere deep into his head and decided to stay there – he looked docile and defenceless.

  Which meant that I would have to be strong. One last time. Just to get Fred and Luke out of this. I had to do that for Ginger. Then, whatever happened to me, whatever I did, didn’t matter.

  “How long have you been hiding out in the wilderness, Fred?” I asked, as though we were meeting at a dinner party.

  “Oh not long, not long,” Chandler said. He gently placed the bowl of stew in front of Fred, and after a minute, grabbed a water glass from the cupboard and filled it from the tap. I watched as Fred reached out and grabbed the glass, took a small sip as though he didn’t trust it. Then he poured it down his throat. I stared at his Adam’s apple slowly bobbing as he swallowed, and tried to think.

  Jeanette was reading a newspaper. I hadn’t seen her grab it, and I felt like I had lost minutes somewhere. Chandler was whistling happily and was busying himself at the sink. He seemed to be washing dishes. I reached up and touched the side of my head, the side with the bandage. Of course there was no pain, not filled with drugs, but I felt strangely out of balance. I still couldn’t hear from my right ear.

  I looked over at Fred. He was staring at me, with no emotion. Did he know Luke was here? Was Luke here?

  “What happened to you?” he said. It came out with a croak. He cleared his throat.

  Jeanette looked over at Chandler, who didn’t seem to care that we were talking. She went back to her paper.

  “Detective Miller,” I said. “Darren and I went to Skip and Marie’s and he was there.”

  “She killed him,” Jeanette said, without looking up. “Second of my siblings she’s killed.” She took a sip of wine.

  “Now, now,” Chandler said. He wagged a soapy finger at Jeanette. “Be nice to our guests, my dear. Danny has just been looking after her own, just like we do. That’s why we have come to value her so much.”

  “If you can’t beat them, have them join you?” I said. And smiled. I busied my hands with the pipe, not intending to smoke anymore but I wanted Chandler and Jeanette to think I was nothing but a slave to the crack, malleable.

  That was true. But I had to be stronger right now than I had ever needed to be. Once this was over I could do what I liked, and before I left here I would hopefully be able to grab this nice, big, fantastic rock. But right now, I needed a clear head.

  I knew I was going to have to smoke a bit more, though. They would notice if I didn’t.

  At least, that’s what I told myself.

  Chandler laughed. “Oh, Danny,” he said. He grabbed another bottle of red from a small wine rack over the fridge. “We’ve already beaten you. We just think you’d be a great addition to the family.”

  Jeanette stared daggers at me, but said nothing. She licked a finger and made a show of turning the page of the newspaper. Typical passive-aggressive teenage behaviour. Seemed to me like her development had stopped sometime when she was sixteen. Probably had, growing up in this family. I tried to feel some sympathy for her, remembering what Jack had told me, but I just couldn’t.

  “I have a family,” I said, but friendly. “One of them is sitting right over there.” I nodded at Fred’s end of the table, and for the first time felt a twinge of pain. Good. It meant the crack was wearing off. Pain meant that my brain was clearing up, and messages were making their way from my body. I tried to twirl my ankle around, testing it. Chandler had wrapped it well.

  “I’m sorry, Danny,” Fred said. He started to cry then, like I had never seen. His chin was lowered to his chest. He was a picture of utter despair and defeat. “It’s all my fault. All of it.”

  “No it’s not, Fred,” I said. “It’s everyone’s. Mine, and Jack’s, and even Ginger’s. We all had a hand in bringing this into our lives.” And as I said it I knew it was true. It’s was everybody’s fault, and nobody’s. Nobody except the evil man feeding us stew. I took a quiet, deep breath. “I’m sure Chandler here had this planned for a long time. Am I right?”

  Chandler smiled, shrugged modestly. He was opening another bottle of wine. He pulled out the cork and smelled it. “Sometimes a plan just comes together,” he said. “Smell that.” He passed me the cork. “You can smell Tuscany on that cork.” I took a whiff.

  “If Tuscany smells like red wine, well then, I’m with you,” I said. Chandler pulled fresh glasses from the cupboard and ceremoniously poured us each a glass. Jeanette pointedly ignored him.

  “You have a lot to learn, Danny,” Chandler said. “You’re a very wealthy woman now. You should cultivate an interest in the finer things in life.”

  “Well this here crack cocaine is pretty fine,” I said.

  Chandler nodded. “If that’s what you want, well of course that’s your choice.” He was waving the glass under his nose and I itched to reach out and smack it from his pretentious hand. “I’ve never approved of drugs. But I’ve always believed – and taught my children, and anyone else who follows me – that you can get whatever you want, if you want it enough.”

  “And what do you want from us now?” Fred said. “Jack and Ginger are dead. Danny and I are rich and broken. Is this the plan?” I willed him to pick up his spoon – the only utensil, I noticed, that Chandler had given him – and have some stew. He would need his strength, no matter what was to come. And as soon as I thought it he did, as though he had forgotten it was there. Good.

  “Fred, I’m glad you asked. I am really, really glad.” Chandler looked at us, beaming. “It’s getting late. Do you two want to get some sleep, or should we have a chat first? I have a proposition for you both. But we can talk about it in the morning. I make superb blueberry pancakes. I can’t wait for you to try them.”

  I looked at Fred. I knew morning would be best. A night of rest, if I could get any, would help. A clearer head, and time to think. I hadn’t had so much crack that I couldn’t get a few hours.

  Then again, the level of crack in my system just now meant that I was thinking more clearly and I knew I could feel som
e pain, but in the morning I didn’t know if I could count on the adrenaline I would need. The pain in my ankle would be worse in the morning.

  And I needed more crack. A fine balance. Not too much, not too little.

  “Oh hell, let’s chat now,” I said. “I’m sitting here with a nice buzz on, and while I’m sure your pancakes are to die for, I might want a nice lie-in tomorrow. It’s been a bit of a day.” I smiled at Chandler and fiddled with the rock of crack, breaking some of it into small pieces. My hands were shaking. I wanted this crack more than I had ever wanted anything, ever. More than love, more than anything.

  “Sure,” Fred said. “But do you think we could sit in the living room? And do you think I could get these off?” He motioned to the chains around his legs and the chair. “I’m not going anywhere. But my legs are cramping.”

  Jeanette looked at Chandler, who nodded at her. She slid her gun over to Chandler while she squatted on the floor and freed Fred’s legs. Chandler picked it up and held it casually, but I noticed that he had his finger ready at the trigger.

  We made our way slowly into the living room. My ankle was bad. Very bad. But as Jeanette helped me across the room, I exaggerated quite how much pain I was in. Chandler directed me to sit in an easy chair with my bad ankle up on an ottoman. He carefully placed the small tray with the drug gear on a side table next to me, along with my glass of wine, a few cigarettes and an ashtray.

  “Quite the host,” I said. Chandler looked sincerely pleased at the compliment.

  I am going to kill you slowly, I thought, smiling at him. And if I enjoy it, and go to hell for it, then so be it.

  Fred was on the couch next to Chandler, and Jeanette sat on the floor near the fire, her weapon and the newspaper in front of her.

  “Everybody comfy?” Chandler asked. He looked totally at his ease, his feet in slippers on the coffee table. To the manor born.

  “Fire away,” I said. I looked at Jeanette. “Figure of speech.” I smiled at her.

  She didn’t smile back.

  32

  It was simple, he said.

  “I feel I’ve gotten to know you both. Well of course, Fred and I have spent a great deal of time together.” He clapped Fred on the shoulder. Fred looked sick.

  “You both know about my Family.” I could hear the capital F. “You’ve each lost a great deal recently. And for that I am truly sorry.” I fiddled with the crack in my lap. I could feel Jeanette look at me.

  “Likewise,” I said. “For Lola and Miller.”

  “I won’t deny that finding Jack again – Scott, to us – was a great… boost,” Chandler said. “I missed my boy, and I won’t deny it.”

  “And his income,” I said. I couldn’t help it. I smiled and pretended to pack my glass stem with crack, meanwhile letting some of it fall into my lap to be brushed off into the recesses of the cushy chair.

  “Touché,” Chandler said. He leaned forward and filled Fred’s wine glass, and lifted it, questioning whether I wanted more. I shook my head, waving my crack pipe at him. He nodded. “Danny, I’ve seen how you operate. I’m impressed. As Jack’s widow, you’d be very welcome to become part of the family.”

  “I’m not much of a joiner,” I said. “I’m a bit of a lone wolf, to be honest. Besides, I’ve got quite a lot of my own birth family to be taking anybody else on board.”

  Chandler nodded. “The life isn’t for everybody. Jeanette isn’t nuts about all our company all the time. Are you, dear?”

  “No,” she answered clearly.

  “Of course not.” Chandler took a sip of wine. “No one is going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. There’s been too much of that, in my opinion. I’m getting old! Look at me!” He laughed. He was the only one. “It’s simple: you sign over Jack’s estate to a charitable foundation that I control. All but ten percent. You keep ten percent. Lock, stock and barrel. Done. Finis. And we all go on our merry way.”

  “A reverse tithe,” I said.

  “Exactly!” Chandler said, pleased.

  “And if we don’t?” Fred said.

  Chandler nodded, taking another sip of his wine, savoring it. “Yes, you have to know every part of the deal I am proposing. Well of course, first of all, if you decline the offer, neither of you will get out of here alive. I know what you’re thinking!” he said, putting his hand up as though we were interrupting him. “But, Michael, buddy, sure, we can promise you the world and as soon as you let us go we’ll go to the FBI.” He leaned back. “But first of all, of course we can do this all here and now. Internet transfers and what have you. I assure you, we’re quite set up for this. Oh, but, Danny? The timing isn’t fantastic on your end. Scott’s – Jack’s will has to clear before you have access to anything. This will take a little while. You’ll recuperate here with us until that happens. Then when the money is in your name, with a few clicks on a keyboard, you can have all this over with.”

  “I don’t want to speak for Danny,” Fred said. He shifted a bit and Jeanette watched him carefully. “But you’re talking to a couple of people who have lost the people they love most in the world. What if I don’t want to play this game anymore? I don’t much care if I don’t make it out of here.”

  It hit me then. Fred didn’t know the twins were alive. He hadn’t seen Luke. He might have thought the boys were killed when Jack and Lola were.

  “And maybe, just maybe, I don’t want to reward the people who killed my family.”

  Chandler looked as though someone had spat in his Tuscan wine. As though it was distasteful, during such a pleasant convivial evening, to mention such things.

  “You think I haven’t thought of that, Fred?” He looked at me. “Both of you. You’re not seeing the big picture. How about the twins? If you decide to refuse my offer, then you have a promise from me. And I don’t make promises lightly.” He shook his head. “You have my promise that anyone you ever loved will be… affected by the Family. In the same way that the people in Jack’s life were – you two, and dear sweet Ginger of course.”

  “And Gene,” I said quietly.

  “Who?” Chandler looked genuinely confused.

  “Her boyfriend in Toronto,” Jeanette said. “We paid him a visit.” She grinned at me and shrugged her shoulders as if to say, whoops! I’m such a bad girl.

  I looked at Fred. He had heard what Chandler said about the twins. He had realized that his sons were alive.

  “Ah, then you see,” Chandler said. “If you opt out, as it were, then you two will have disappeared into these beautiful Maine woods, and no one will ever know where you went. And then the Lindquists and the Clearys – and most specifically your other son, Fred, because of course we have Luke with us – will get visits from my Family over the next years. In various guises, of course. I mean I haven’t worked out all the particulars yet.” He laughed. “I’ve been a bit busy lately.”

  I looked at Fred. He was looking at Chandler with a face that seemed to be unable to register that yes, there is even greater evil than you thought. It can get worse.

  But your sons are alive. Fred closed his eyes and I could see him get stronger. It could have just been the crack screwing with my perceptions, but I could swear the knowledge strengthened him.

  “And if we agree to pay? Is that the end of this? Will we ever see you again?” I lifted up the pipe, holding the end so Jeanette, who was closest, couldn’t see how much or little crack was in it. I would still get a little smoke, and a little buzz, from the remainder that was in there from last time. But I had seen her eyeing the rock next to me. She either wanted some, or she was wondering why I hadn’t taken a hit in quite a while.

  “I’ve made my case for you joining us, Danny. But once your part is played, you’re free to go,” Chandler said. “Good Lord, Danny. I’m a man of my word.” He took a sip of his wine. “Of course, you know that if you tell anyone about any of this, what I said earlier applies. About your family getting visits from mine.”

  I lit the pipe and inha
led. There was more crack in there than I had thought. I had to hold it but I tried not to take it too far into my lungs.

  I exhaled and the world was bright again. But I still felt clear.

  “Where do I sign,” I said. I twirled the pipe in my fingers and tilted my head back.

  Chandler clapped his hands together. “Wonderful! Danny, I knew you’d see sense. Fred? You on board? Should I open something really special? This might call for a toast.”

  Time stood still for a moment while we all looked at Fred expectantly.

  He opened his mouth to speak.

  Then, faster than I would have ever believed he could move, Fred had grabbed the corkscrew from the coffee table, and plunged the business end of it into Chandler’s eye.

  Before I could think, I yelled for Fred to hold him, while I threw myself off the chair towards Jeanette, using the armrests to propel me.

  She was fumbling to get a grip on the gun. It had taken me a second to register what Fred had done. I could ignore the pain in my ankle. I would have to. Chandler had wrapped it well, and the furniture was grouped tightly around the fire. I didn’t have far to go.

  I still had the metal crack pipe in my left hand and when I knocked Jeanette over, her head close to the open fire, I saw Ginger’s face, and Jack’s.

  I punched the pipe into her eye. It was strong. Sitting in the chair, I had tested it, trying to see how much pressure it could take while I held it in my hand. Funny that Fred had had the same thought. I heard something breaking, and the two men both yelling, and I felt Jeanette’s eye pop like a fat grape under my hand. I pushed the pipe in as far as it would go. Blood and ocular fluid flowed out of her eye and onto my hand. I picked her head up off the floor by her hair, and smashed it as hard as I could into the hardwood floor.

  I grabbed the gun. Chandler was gone, and Fred was on his knees trying to breathe. His asthma.

  “Where did he go, and where’s your inhaler?” I said. I was surprised to hear that I was yelling. My lopsided hearing made sound so imprecise. Fred pointed out the back door. It was open. Chandler would have a gun in his car, but if there were more in easy reach in the house I don’t think he would have left. “Inhaler, Fred, point,” I said. He was bent over, trying to suck air into his lungs. He pointed under the couch. I was on one foot, trying to hold the gun, listening for Chandler to come behind me and registering that Jeanette was stirring. I hadn’t knocked her out fully. She started to scream.