I can tell he’s building up steam but I’ve had enough.
“Go home.”
Whether it’s the determination in my voice or the hard expression on my face, but after a long look my father turns on his heel and marches out of my house. I watch him get in a nondescript rental and drive off.
I have a feeling this may well be the last glimpse I have of my father.
I’m at peace with that.
Beau is panting by the back door when I let him in. I give him some water and a little attention before he fits himself around Belle, who is already sleeping in his bed.
The Chinese food is still sitting on the counter where Meredith left it. I’m hungry, but I can wait until she’s back. Instead I grab a glass, fill it with water, and pop a few ibuprofen for my headache.
I’m flipping through the channels, trying to kill some time when my phone rings. It’s my partner.
“Thought you might wanna know we hit pay dirt with that storage unit.”
“Great news.”
I lean back in the couch and try to sound happy for them, even though I fucking wish I was there.
“Yup. Looking at the primary scene right now. You wouldn’t believe it; it’s set up like a fucking mini meatpacking plant. It’s got it all, the vacuum sealer, a couple of chest freezers, stainless-steel cutting table. You wanna know the most disturbing part? There’s this magnetic strip mounted over that table holding every imaginable blade from boning knives to meat cleavers, carefully lined up by size. Fucking gives you the chills.”
“Tell me those freezers were empty,” I mumble.
“Yeah. Thank God. The smell in here is bad enough as it is. Anyway, I should let you go. Gonna be a long night.”
“Hey, wait,” I call out before he hangs up. “Did you get hold of the manager?”
“Guy showed up ten minutes ago, that’s why I have to run. There are three units on this one agreement, twenty-eight through thirty.”
“One on either side to buffer the sound,” I suggest.
“It gets better. Both of them hold overflow stock.”
“What do you mean, stock?”
“Caskets, coffins, works like giant insulation walls. It’s crazy.”
I feel a tingle crawling up my spine and sit up straight.
“In whose name?”
“RW Undertakings. One guess who signed it.”
I don’t have to guess; I already know and it makes my blood run cold.
“Fuck.”
“Gomez and his team are out looking for him.”
“Meredith is out there.”
“What? Is she not with you?”
“She went to pick up a few things at her place. We had a situation here, my father…you know what, I’ve gotta go.”
I stop myself from wasting time on lengthy explanations. I ignore Keith’s, “Wait!” and end the call as I get to my feet, immediately dialing Meredith’s number.
The phone she left on the counter next to the Chinese food starts to ring.
“Goddamit!”
She knows the guy, works with him, trusts him.
There’s no time to waste.
Meredith
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I was so worked up back at Jay’s, I forgot to grab my phone before making my grand exit. What is it they say? Pride goeth before the fall?
The vehicle is riding my tail, the bright headlights preventing me from recognizing the make or who is behind the wheel. I have no way to contact anyone and my closest neighbor’s house coming up on the right is dark or I would’ve turned in there.
I need a phone and the only one I have any chance of reaching is the landline up at my place.
I press down harder on the gas, but my little hybrid is already challenged by the mountain road and I can’t get much more out of her. If I’m going to even make it to the door, I need to be smart.
My driveway is coming up around the next bend and I grab the wheel tighter. My only chance is to take the curve at full speed. Normally you’d have to slow down to make the turn toward my house or you miss it, which is what I’m hoping will give me a slight advantage.
A quick glance in the rearview mirror shows the vehicle behind me dropping off a little, but then I hit the top of the curve and have to hang on to my steering wheel to make it around. I can feel the car fishtailing, the back end starting to slide, while I desperately keep the front wheels turned. I speed almost sideways down the road.
The moment I see the small reflector nailed to the tree at the end of my driveway, I ease up on the gas and let the wheels straighten out. Then, barely missing the ditch on the far side, I catch the drive and rush toward the house. A glance in my rearview mirror shows what I now see is an SUV overshooting the turn into my driveway.
For all the times I wished I had a bigger car, something a little roomier, I’m grateful for my little Prius as I pull it in as close as I can to the front door leaving just enough room for me to get out the driver’s side. I cut the engine and fist the keys in my hand as I swing my legs out of the car.
My fingers find my house key by rote, but my hands are shaking hard as I try to jam it in the lock. Just as I feel it slide into place, bright lights hit the door. Frantically I jiggle the knob while trying to turn the key—the standard routine to unlock my door—but I’m too late.
“Doc?”
The voice is familiar and I swing around.
“Paul? Is that you?” I lift my hands to partially cover my eyes against the glare of the headlights, seeing only an outline of the man coming toward me.
“It’s me.”
I lower my hands when he moves out of the beam and I can see his face.
“What are you doing here?”
“I had no choice…”
That’s when I spot movement behind him as someone else steps into view. I’d been so focused on Paul, I’d completely missed the second person. I reach behind me, feeling for the keys I left in the door.
“What is going on here?”
I hate that my voice wobbles, but the sight of the gun pressing under Paul’s chin has stark fear take over.
“What do you think, Meredith?”
The mocking way my name is pronounced has chills course down my spine.
“What do you want?”
“Murder-suicide? You think it’ll fly? I’m thinking it might.”
“No one would believe it,” I challenge, trying to distract from my efforts to slip the keys between my fingers.
It’s not much, but it’s all I have. That and keeping the dialogue going as long as I can.
“Oh, I don’t know. Paul here certainly had means and opportunity.”
“What about motive?” I prod, clenching my hand in a fist.
“Money of course. Do you have any idea how much a body is worth? Even more when you sell it in pieces. It’s like throwing away money each time a body is cremated. It’s not like they’re missed, they’re already dead.”
I swallow down the bile that starts crawling up my throat. There is no remorse, no morals, no humanity. No sign of the gentle, caring touch usually reserved for the families and loved ones of the deceased.
“Dennis Heath? Was he dead? What about Margaret McClintock?”
I take a step closer, trying to catch Paul’s attention. All I need is one unguarded moment when that gun is not set to blow his brains out.