The cabin, p.21
The Cabin, page 21
Fiona wasn’t sure how long they sat there staring at the ice floes, but it was long enough for cold fingers to creep under her clothing and run up and down the length of her, long enough for lethargy to nibble on her ear.
Her chin struck her chest, and she bolted awake. “We can’t do this,” she said. “We can’t stay here.” Rico wasn’t the only danger in this night. Hypothermia was just as real and just as deadly.
Devon gazed at her through cloudy eyes for a moment, and she watched understanding dawn. “Right,” he said and pushed himself to a standing position. “Let’s head to town.”
They walked along the beach, passing vacation mansions and boat docks, but it was eerily silent. Fiona felt as if she were marching through an apocalyptic landscape, as if the world had fallen off the grid while they fought with Rico at the cabin.
“Where is everyone?” Devon said.
“The roads up the mountain are bad, foggy, icy. There will be people in town—full-time people.”
Town assumed the mythic status the lake had held earlier. If they could just get to town. They trudged without speaking, needing all their energy to put one foot in front of the other. Fiona heard a car passing on an invisible road to their left. There were people out there; they just needed to find them.
Up the beach, she saw a parking lot which signified the end of this stretch of lakeside trail. They’d have to take the road after this. It would be easier walking, but the fear that Rico would find them was always present.
They approached the small lot with caution, but it appeared to be empty. It was a strange thing to want to find people, yet be afraid of every passing car. As they rounded a stand of snow-covered bushes, Fiona saw a lone car in the corner of the lot. It was a Lexus. Her Lexus. Crackers whined.
“Devon!” She grabbed his arm, trying to stop him from lumbering into the open, but it was too late. Another arm snaked out from behind the brush and wrapped around his neck. Devon grunted and fell against Rico.
MOLLY: Will Rico ever leave them alone? The man is a plague. Why not run instead of tracking them down? Here is his last diary entry. Maybe we’ll learn something about his logic.
7.6.6
DIARY
I found them wandering like refugees at the shore of the lake. My head still throbbed, but purpose muted the pain. Chuck had talked to me. At least, the thing that had lived inside him had talked to me. I wasn’t sure which it was anymore. All I knew is, he wanted what he wanted, and he wasn’t going to leave me be until he got it.
We were in our cell at the jail, and he was droning on and on about the injustices of his childhood. I’d tuned him out, the way I’d always done, but in the middle of one of his diatribes, he stopped talking, jumped off his bunk and screamed.
It was an uncanny, jawless scream. No words, unhinged mouth as like a snake about to swallow a rabbit, eyes white. I can tell you, it got my attention.
I put my hands over my ears, but the sound reverberated through my head, every wave causing a bolt of pain. “What do you want?” I tried to make myself heard over the noise.
He turned his white eyes on me, and two words grated through the air, “My sister.”
It was the first time he’d spoken to me in words since I’d dispatched him to the next reality, and it was terrible. His voice was sandpaper on my skin, and I had the feeling that if I didn’t do what he wanted, that sandpaper was going to rub everything off me until there was nothing left but bones.
I wanted to tell him I’d tried, but somehow, she’d escaped. I couldn’t make my mouth form the words, though. I was paralyzed like that rabbit before the snake.
I dragged my eyes open, and I was in the cabin staring at the ceiling. I’d been given another chance. I’d been reborn for a purpose.
And that purpose walked before me now. I grabbed the father first. He was injured but, still, I believed he could cause the most damage. A second later a sharp pain shot through my leg. It was the damned dog.
I stared at it for a second, wondering what other horrors this night would bring. I’d been sure I’d ended that mongrel’s life, but I’d been sure I’d ended Chuck’s life as well. The living and the dead danced together under the moon.
I kicked the animal off, tightened my grip on Devon’s windpipe, and heard the wheeze I’d been hoping for. “Call off your dog or I break his neck,” I said to the woman.
She did. The dog didn’t like it, but he obeyed her.
“We’re going back to the cabin,” I said. “We need to have a talk.”
Her face, already white in the gloom, grew deathly pale. “Let’s talk here.”
I squeezed Devon’s neck harder. He wheezed again. The boy cried out as if I’d hurt him.
“All right, all right. Stop that,” she said. “We’ll do what you want to do.”
“Get in the car.”
She glared at me through cat’s eyes—Chuck’s eyes. I shuddered, reached for the door handle with my free hand and opened the back door. “Get. In.”
She set her son down without ever taking her eyes off me. “Release my husband.”
I smiled at that. “After you get in.”
“What do you want from us? I told you I’d give you money, everything we have, as soon as the banks open. Why not take the money and run?” She gestured toward the road. “Have you noticed how many empty houses are all around us? You could hide out in a mansion. You don’t need us.”
Irritation crept over me with spider legs. She was talking, talking, talking, just like her brother. I needed her to shut up. I raised my free hand to the arm around Devon’s neck. I’d break his neck right in front of her.
Before I could apply any pressure, a fog appeared before my eyes. A second later, the burn started. A searing, corrosive pain filled my eyes, my nasal passages, my mouth. My hands released their hold on Devon and flew to my face. I dropped to my knees, gasping for clean air but found none.
MOLLY: Thank goodness. He’s down. I feel like I can breathe because he can’t. Back to Devon and Fiona.
7.6.7
DEVON
Headlights lit the road. Devon squinted through irritated eyes, stepped into the path of the car and waved an arm. They’d been hiding for so long it felt wrong, but logic had to override emotions. He’d used emotion and instinct to do what he’d had to do for his family. He’d sprayed a man with bear spray, inhaled quite a bit of it himself, possibly killed Rico, considering the man’s compromised health, and now it was time to re-enter civilization.
The car slowed, then pulled to a stop. The window lowered, and a voice came through the opening. “You been in an accident?”
Devon walked closer and peered inside. The man behind the wheel appeared to be in his forties. He had heavy jowls and a forehead that creased deeply with apprehension.
Devon realized how they must appear, covered in blood and dirt with the smell of pepper spray on their clothing. He gestured to Fiona. She walked into the light carrying Caleb, Crackers at her side. The man’s tension relaxed.
“It’s a long story,” Devon said, glancing toward the woods nervously. He halfway expected Rico to stumble onto the road behind them. “But we need help. Can you drive us to the police station?”
“The hospital,” Fiona said.
“I can wait,” Devon answered her.
The man paused, then they heard the click of locks. “Get in,” he said.
Fiona, Caleb, and Crackers clambered into the back seat. Devon climbed into the front. Heat blew through the vents and began to thaw his frozen body. It was heaven.
The man made a three-point turn and drove toward town. “What, ah, what happened to you folks? You look like you been through a war.”
“I guess you could say that,” Devon said. “But I think we need to talk to the cops before we share the details with anyone else.”
“Understood,” the man said, sounding very much like he didn’t understand, but the rest of the drive was made in blissful silence.
The sheriff’s station was located in a low, beige and brown building. The windows glowed like beacons in the blackness. Devon thanked their driver and he and his family spilled into the cold night air that seemed even colder now because of the warmth they’d left behind.
They trooped inside and made their way to the front desk. It was manned by a sleepy looking deputy. The sleep left his face as Devon crumpled to the floor.
MOLLY: This was a wild episode. I don’t know about you all, but I’m exhausted. I can only imagine how Devon and Fiona felt when they knew they were safe and could finally relax.
We’re coming down to the wire, people. There’s only one episode left. Next week we’ll get into the aftermath of their ordeal. So, here’s my question: When the dust settles, what impact do you think this experience will have on Fiona and on Devon? I’m sure will be different for each of them. They had their own issues going into it and they suffered in different ways during. I’d love to hear your predictions.
Join me next time for more Murders Under the Sun.
(cue music)
VO: This episode is brought to you by Siren Vineyard, home of Red Ravish, a lush blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Grenache, and Syrah. Murders Under the Sun is edited by Jim Wilbourne, theme music by Eclectic Blends, and I’m your host, Molly Shure.
Part Eight
MURDERS UNDER THE SUN
SEASON SEVEN; EPISODE SEVEN
* * *
MOLLY: Welcome back to Murders Under the Sun. This is Molly Shure, your host.
I’m in a mild state of shock, people. I can hardly believe we’ve come to the final episode of the final season of Murders Under the Sun. We have a lot to cover today to wrap up all our loose ends. Plus, I have some startling news about our missing CS-Fullerton students I need to share, but I’m going to control myself and wait until the end of the episode.
As usual, your insights on Facebook were thought provoking. Just when I think I’ve thought through every angle of the question I posed, someone throws something out that had never occurred to me.
Many of you made predictions about the changes that might happen in Fiona and Devon’s marriage, some dire and some positive. Others of you discussed how they might each need to address the issues they struggled with at the beginning of the season. For Fiona that would be her sense of family shame and for Devon his need to plan and control every little thing.
I’d thought of those things as well. What I hadn’t thought about until I interviewed Fiona for this episode was how they’d move forward as parents. However, several of you commented on that. Since Rico traumatized all three of them, you felt their PTSD might cause Caleb to become clingy and the adults to become helicopter parents.
Fiona actually talks about that in her narrative today. So, let’s get into it.
Fiona woke between clean sheets with an IV in her arm. It should have been sheer luxury, but anxiety gripped her almost at once. She turned her head, saw a small form in the next bed and relaxed again. They were in the hospital. They were safe.
She had been dangerously dehydrated, but other than that and a few bruises, she was fine. Devon, on the other hand, had been rushed into surgery. She’d dozed in her bed until being told the surgery went well, then she’d allowed herself the luxury of falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The events of the night before shuffled into her mind, and she struggled to put them into some kind of order. After Devon passed out at the Sheriff’s station, chaos erupted. Medics charged through the doors, deputies arrived in twos and threes, and everyone asked questions. Endless questions. What had happened to them? Were they injured? Where and how had they been injured? What year was it? Who was the president? Where was Rico?
Fiona went through the story many times with many uniformed people, while another ambulance and several patrol cars were dispatched to the lake in search of Rico. After much cajoling, Caleb allowing himself to be carried away by a female paramedic, while other medical professionals assessed Fiona’s condition. Crackers was leashed by the desk deputy and taken to a local vet for examination.
Then there was the ride down the hill to the hospital in Arrowhead. The warmth of heated blankets and hot tea. The cold of stethoscopes and probes. The relief of being washed and enveloped between smooth sheets.
A nurse, pretty and brown, popped her head in the door. She made Fiona think of the squirrels that leaped from tree to tree here. “You’re awake,” she said.
Fiona nodded.
“Hungry?”
“Famished.”
“Good. Breakfast is on its way.” The nurse crossed to Caleb’s bed. “You hungry, little guy?”
Caleb yawned and stretched and smiled at her. “I like pancakes.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” She looked at Fiona. “The food isn’t gourmet, but it is edible.”
After an edible breakfast, Fiona and Caleb were released. The business of signing forms saved her from having to think about what would come after the forms. She had no car, no wallet, no cell phone, and nowhere to go if she did, but when she walked into the hospital lobby, two deputies were waiting for her. One large and male, name of Connelly, one petite and female, name of Jones.
Although the deputies solved her current dilemma, their presence also made her uneasy. She didn’t believe it was common for the police to provide taxi service. They must need her for something. After asking about her health, Connelly confirmed her suspicion.
“Rico Del Monaco wasn’t at the lake when we arrived last night.”
Despite the warmth of the hospital lobby, Fiona shivered. “He wasn’t there?”
“We were hoping you’d be willing to come back to the cabin with us—walk us through what happened,” Jones said.
Fiona had no desire to see that cabin ever again. However, their things were there. She needed her purse and a car to get home, if they’d let her take one. “Sure.”
Jones handed her a puffy jacket. “The one you were wearing last night was pretty trashed.” She smiled. Fiona slipped it on. It was too big, but the extra yardage was comforting.
“Our people are at the cabin, and we have roadblocks on the 18 and the 38,” Connelly told her on the way outside. “He can’t leave the mountain without being seen.”
“Did he take my car?” Fiona asked. Not that it mattered. They had their lives, that was the important thing.
“No. We found it at the lake. It’ll be towed into the station,” Connelly said.
“Where did he go? He was in bad shape,” Fiona wondered out loud, but the question was rhetorical. If the police knew where he was, he’d be in custody. Connelly and Jones didn’t bother answering.
She followed them out the hospital doors to a waiting vehicle. They must have taken the car seat from her car, because it was belted into the back for Caleb. Connelly got behind the wheel, Jones in the front passenger seat, Fiona and Caleb in the back.
“We’re hoping you might be able to help us figure out how he disappeared,” Connelly said without taking his eyes from the road.
A vision of mounded branches appeared in Fiona’s mind. “He had a car.”
Jones and Connelly shared a look.
“The Audi at the cabin is registered to you and your husband,” Connelly said.
“Right. That’s Devon’s. Rico had a car hidden in the woods.”
Jones reached for the police radio. “What make and model?”
“I don’t know. It was covered in branches.”
“Where exactly was it?”
“I’d have to take you there. I don’t think I can explain it.”
There were many things Fiona wanted to tell them about her trip to the car in the woods, but Caleb was watching the world pass outside the window, as alert as a chipmunk.
As if Jones read her mind, she said, “We have someone, a search and rescue volunteer, at the station to watch Caleb. Is that okay with you?”
Caleb turned his head toward his mother, his lower lip beginning to droop.
Fiona placed a hand on his leg. “You’ll have more fun.”
“I want to stay with you.” His voice wavered.
“MaryBeth is a really nice lady, and she has cookies and puzzles,” Jones said.
Caleb narrowed his eyes. “What kind of cookies?”
“Oreos,” Connelly said.
Caleb pondered this for a minute. “Okay.” The rest of the ride to the station was passed in silence except for the occasional squawk of the police radio.
The volunteer was a sweet-faced twenty-something. Caleb took her hand and headed to an interview room without a backward glance. Fiona watched him go with more reluctance, but he couldn’t go where she was going. She returned to the car with the deputies.
They pulled up to the cabin ten minutes later and parked behind two county vehicles. It was a very different tableau than the one she’d left behind the night before. Boot prints obliterated Caleb’s snow angels, the snowman was toppled, and crime scene tape crisscrossed the front door. She exited the car and hesitated.
“You up to this?” Jones asked, but Fiona got the feeling it didn’t much matter if she was.
“Yeah, sure.” Unreasonable fear prickled up and down her arms as they climbed the porch steps, and she was glad Caleb had stayed at the station. He may have to revisit the events of the past few days at some point, but it would be in the safety of a psychologist’s office, not here. Not where the nightmare took place.
A horrible perfume of vomit, blood, sweat, and smoke met her as soon as she entered. Two men and a woman in paper booties and jumpsuits were inside. The crime scene team, she supposed. One picked invisible things off the couch and placed them into plastic bags. Another wandered down the hallway. The third squatted on the floor near the fireplace, taking photographs of the blood-stained floorboards.
