The Chain(90)

“Near the end, crazy Erik didn’t write everything in code.”

“And?”

“What did you say your new boyfriend’s ex-wife’s name was?”

“Oh, shit.”

“Sometime in the last week or so, Erik apparently met with a woman named Rachel.”

“Shit, shit, shit.”

“Come on, spill.”

Now it’s Ginger’s turn to sigh. “You know what your problem is, Olly? You’re completely bloodless. You’re like Spock or something. You should probably see someone about that. It’s not normal.”

“This is serious, Ginger. This is crash-bag, fake-IDs, flee-the-country stuff.”

“How much do we have in Switzerland?”

“Enough.” Olly goes to the gun cabinet, unlocks it, and opens it. “I always thought that if we were going to go down, it would be because of you tangling emotions with business.”

She smiles. “Christ, Olly, that’s how everybody goes down in the end. Didn’t you know that? You can’t fight biology.”

“You can try,” he says.





68



Back in the master bedroom, Marty is looking through the plate-glass window at the oak-tree stump between the house and the swampy, scrubby woods beyond. Snow is falling in big powdery flakes on the river and the living trees and the dead oak. It’s a frickin’ Robert Frost poem.

Lovely down here. Ginger undersold it. This is no crazy old cabin in the middle of a swamp. This is some spread. A beautiful house. Art on the walls. Expensive shit. The old man, Daniel, must have a chunk of change. And as advertised, he’s a character.

The kids are loving it and Ginger is loving showing it off. She’s a good one, he thinks. Rachel was a mistake. They were both so young. He’d told everybody that he’d fallen in love with Rachel reading her brilliant book reviews in the Crimson, but that was crap. It was a physical thing. They really didn’t have much in common.

When you got past thirty, you had better judgment. Tammy was merely a fling, but Ginger’s different. Special. With her he could settle down. Live in the city. Have a couple more—

“I was just thinking about you,” he says as Ginger comes back into the room holding her handbag.

A strand of red hair is curling down between her breasts.

He has a sudden urge to throw her on the bed and ravish her.

“Ginger, do these doors lock? I know there’s kids wandering around, so I—” he begins, but something in his peripheral vision catches his eye.

He turns to look at it.

“What is that?” he says to Ginger.

“What?”

“Is that someone coming toward the house from behind that tree?”

“Where?”

“I thought I saw someone coming through the snow. Yeah, look…oh my God! You’re not going to believe this, but, um, I think that’s my ex-wife,” Marty says.

Ginger takes the Smith and Wesson .38 out of her handbag and points it at his head.

“I believe you,” she says.





69



Rachel puts the shotgun against her shoulder and aims it at the guard.

“Hold it right there,” she says.

The guard spins to face her. “Whoa! Take it easy, lady. I don’t think you know what you’re doing with that thing,” he says.

“You’ll be thinking something else when I blow you in half with it,” Rachel replies.

Pete picks up his .45. “Drop the shotgun, pal,” Pete says.

The guard places the gun on the ground and puts his hands up.

“Lie facedown on the ground,” Pete orders and the man complies as Pete kicks the gun away.

“You don’t have to hurt me. There’s duct tape and rope in the garage. I got the garage-door opener in my jacket pocket,” the guard says quickly.

“How many armed men inside the house?” Pete asks.

“I’m the only—” the man begins.

“Nobody move!” someone says, and there’s the sound of a gunshot.

A spotlight comes on. Standing at the front door are Ginger and a man about her age—her twin brother, Rachel assumes. Both of them have handguns.

“Rachel, is that you? What’s going on?” Ginger asks innocently.

Ginger? What the hell? Doubt courses through Rachel. Did Erik’s tracker somehow cross signals with the GPS tracker they put in Kylie’s shoes? Did Kylie transfer the GPS tiles after all? Was this whole ridiculous hunt through the swamp an enormous mistake?

Oh my God, yes. If it’s a mistake, Kylie is safe. Yes! Rachel has to explain before someone gets hurt.

“I’m so sorry, Ginger. This must look completely crazy. I was just telling this gentleman here—”

The garage door opens to reveal a skinny old geezer with white hair holding what looks like an assault rifle. “What are you doing here on my property?” the old man demands.

“Grandpa, we’ve got this!” Ginger’s brother says.

“Olly’s right, Red, we’ve got it under control,” Ginger says. “Rachel, you and your friend should really drop your weapons.”

“Everyone, please, I think we’ve made a huge mistake. I’m sorry. I put a GPS tracker in Kylie’s sneakers. I thought she’d been kidnapped.”