Кэти Райх - Death Du Jour

A tree decided it.

We hadn’t gone a quarter mile when an enormous pine blocked our way. It had fallen, bringing up a twelve-foot root wad and dragging power lines across the road. We would not be continuing in that direction.

Ryan struck the wheel with the heel of his hand.

“Jesus Christ in a peach tree!”

“It’s pine.” My heart hammered.

He stared at me, unamused. Outside, the wind moaned and threw ice against the windows. I saw Ryan’s jaw muscles bunch, relax, bunch again. Then,

“We do this my way, Brennan. If I say wait in the Jeep, that’s where your ass will be. Is that clear?”

I nodded. I would have agreed to anything.

We did an about-face and hung a right at the toppled tower. The road was narrow and littered with trees, some uprooted, others snapped where their trunks had failed. Ryan wove in and out among them. To either side poplars, ashes, and birches formed inverted U’s, their crowns bent toward earth by the burden of ice.

A split-log fence began just beyond the gingerbread shelter. Ryan slowed and crept along it. At several places toppled trees had crushed the rails. Then I spotted the first living thing since Montreal.

The car was nose-down in a gully, wheels spinning, enveloped in a cloud of exhaust. The driver’s door was open and I could see one booted leg planted on the ground.

Ryan braked and shifted to park.

“Stay here.”

I started to object, thought better of it.

He got out and walked to the car. From where I sat the occupant could have been male or female. As Ryan and the driver exchanged words I lowered the window, but I couldn’t make out what was said. Ryan’s breath spurted like jets of mist. In less than a minute he was back in the Jeep.

“Not the most helpful character.”

“What did he say?”

“ Oui and non . He lives just up the road, but the cretin wouldn’t notice if Genghis Khan moved in next door.”

We moved on to where the fence ended at a gravel drive. Ryan pulled in and switched off the engine.

Two vans and a half dozen cars were scattered in front of a ramshackle lodge. They looked like rounded humps, frozen hippos in a river of gray. Ice dripped from the eaves and sills of the building and turned the windows milky, eliminating any view of the inside.

Ryan turned to me.

“Now listen. If this is the right place we’re going to be about as welcome as a cottonmouth.” He touched my cheek. “Promise me you’ll stay here.”

“I–”

His fingers slid to my lips.

“Stay here.” His eyes were blindingly blue in the dreary dawn light.

“This is bullshit,” I said into his fingertips.

He withdrew the hand and pointed at me.

“Wait in the car.”

He pulled on gloves and stepped into the storm. When he slammed the door I reached for my mittens. I would wait two minutes.

What happened next comes back as disjointed images, shards of memory fragmented in time. I saw, but my mind did not accept the whole. It collected the memory and stored it away as separate frames.

Ryan had taken a half dozen steps when I heard a pop and his body jerked. His hands flew up and he started to turn. Another pop and another spasm, then he dropped to the ground and lay still.

“Ryan!” I yelled as I threw open the door. When I jumped out pain shot up my leg and my knee buckled. “Andy!” I screamed at his inert form.

Then lightning burst inside my skull and I was engulfed in darkness thicker than the ice.

MY NEXT CONSCIOUS SENSATION WAS ALSO OF BLACKNESS. Blackness and pain. I sat up slowly, unable to see any form to the darkness. Fierce pain shot into my head and I thought I would vomit. More pain as I raised my knees and hung my head between them.

In a moment the queasiness passed. I listened. Nothing but the pounding of my own heart. I looked at my hands but they were lost to the darkness. I inhaled. Rotten wood and damp earth. Gingerly, I reached out.

I was sitting on a dirt floor. Behind me and to both sides I could feel a wall of rough, round stones. Six inches above my head my hand met wood.

My breath came in short, rapid gasps as I fought panic.

I was trapped! I had to get out!

Noooooooo!

The scream was in my mind. I hadn’t entirely lost my self-control.

I closed my eyes and tried to control the hyperventilation. Clasping my hands, I tried to concentrate on one thing at a time.

Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out.

Slowly the panic receded. I got to my knees and stretched a hand straight out in front of me. Nothing. The pain in my left knee brought me to tears, but I crawled forward into the inky void. Two feet. Six. Ten.

As I moved unobstructed my terror receded. A tunnel was better than a stone cage.

I sat back and tried to connect with a functioning portion of my brain. I had no idea where I was, how long I’d been there, or how I’d arrived.

I began to reconstruct.

Harry. The lodge. The car.

Ryan! God, my God, oh, God!

Please, no! Please, please, not Ryan.

My stomach roiled again and a bitter taste rose to my mouth. I swallowed.

Who shot Ryan? Who brought me in here? Where was Harry?

My head pounded and I was becoming stiff with cold. This was no good. I had to do something. I took a deep breath and rolled back to my knees.

Step by throbbing step I crept along the tunnel. I’d lost my gloves, and the frigid clay numbed my hands and jarred my injured patella. The pain kept me focused until I touched the foot.

As I recoiled my head cracked wood and the start of a scream froze in my throat.

Goddam it, Brennan, get ahold of yourself. You are a crime scene professional, not a hysterical onlooker.

I crouched, still paralyzed with dread. Not of the tomblike space, but of the thing with which I shared it. Generations were born and died as I waited for a sign of life. Nothing spoke, nothing moved. I breathed deeply, then inched forward and touched the foot again.

It wore a leather boot, small, with laces like mine. I found its partner and followed the legs upward. The body was lying on its side. Cautiously, I rolled it over and continued my exploration. Hem. Buttons. Scarf. My throat constricted as my fingertips recognized the clothing. Before I touched the face I knew.

But it couldn’t be! It didn’t make sense.

I pulled off the scarf and felt the hair. Yes. Daisy Jeannotte.

Jesus, God! What was going on?

Keep moving! a portion of my brain commanded.

I dragged myself forward on one knee and one hand, bracing a palm against the wall. My fingers touched cobwebs and things I didn’t want to consider. Debris crumbled and trickled to earth as I moved slowly along the tunnel.

After several more feet the gloom lightened almost imperceptibly. My hand struck something and I followed it. Wooden rails. Trestles. When I looked up I could see a faint rectangle of amber light. Steps leading up.

I eased up the stairs, testing for sound at each riser. Three steps brought me to the ceiling. My hands identified the borders of a cover, but when I pushed it didn’t budge.

I pressed my ear to the wood and the barking of dogs sent adrenaline to every part of my being. The sound seemed far off and muffled, but I could tell the animals were excited. A human voice yelled some command, then silence, then the yapping started again.

Directly overhead, no sounds of movement, no voices.

I pressed with my shoulder and the panel shifted slightly, but didn’t give. When I examined the strips of light I could see a shadow at the midpoint of the right side. I tried poking it with my fingertips, but the gap was too narrow. Frustrated, I inserted my fingers farther up and slid them along the crack. Splinters pierced my flesh and tore at my nails, but I could not reach the retaining point. The opening around the edges wasn’t wide enough.