Part 26 (1/2)

The pickup drove a mile past the Landry farm, where police cars and media vans still congregated, before turning into the small county park that sat between a pond and a wide field, the crop of which had recently been cut. There were no other cars in the lot, nor had they pa.s.sed any on the road. All the local folks were home right about now, watching the news reports of the drama that had unfolded right down the road, or so Burt suspected. The truck drew to a stop all the way at the end, and Burt cut the ignition. This being farm country, no one would think twice about seeing a pickup truck parked near the pond.

”Out.” Burt gestured to Archer. ”Out of the truck.”

”You're gonna leave me here?” Archer looked out the window. ”With all those cops down the road? They're gonna find me.”

”That's the idea, a.s.shole.” Burt pointed to the door and said, ”Don't make me say it again, Archer.”

Archer sighed and jumped out of the truck and stood next to the door, as if waiting for instructions.

”Walk,” Burt told him, pointing toward the play equipment near the pond.

”Wait.” Archer took a few steps toward the truck. ”I forgot my stuff.”

”Don't bother.” Burt pulled the gun from his belt. ”There's nothing in that bag you're gonna need.”

It took a moment for Archer to realize what was about to happen.

”No, you can't. You . . . can't.” He shook all over, and he looked around frantically for an escape route. There was none.

”Tell you what I'm gonna do, Archie. I'm gonna count to five. I'm firing on five. So when I say one, one, you make a run for it. Five seconds, give you time to run into the woods, find a place to hide. Maybe I won't find you.” you make a run for it. Five seconds, give you time to run into the woods, find a place to hide. Maybe I won't find you.”

”B . . . but . . .”

”That's your choice, Archie. You can run when I say one, one, or I can shoot you where you stand. It's up to you.” Burt spoke softly, enjoying himself. ”I'm gonna start counting now, Archie, so you turn around and get ready to run. One . . .” or I can shoot you where you stand. It's up to you.” Burt spoke softly, enjoying himself. ”I'm gonna start counting now, Archie, so you turn around and get ready to run. One . . .”

”But-”

”You're wasting time, a.s.shole. Two . . .”

Archer turned and ran toward the trees.

”Three.” Burt fired and hit his target square in the back. Archer fell face forward onto the stones that covered the parking lot. ”I was only kidding about giving you till five.”

He walked over and put a second bullet in the back of Archer Lowell's head.

Tucking the gun into his belt, Burt walked back to his truck and drove from the parking lot, careful not to kick up stones that might further mar his paint job. He'd noticed a few pockmarks on his rear fender that morning, and he was determined to avoid adding to them. He took his time as he drove back the way he had come, easing on the gas as he pa.s.sed the Landry farm. Laughing to himself, he sped up. The sooner he left the fields of New Jersey behind him, the better.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

”Where are we?” Julianne stirred in her seat in the small plane, then sat up and rubbed her eyes as if it were a huge effort.

”We're on an airplane, sweetie.” Genna leaned forward and tucked back the hair that had fallen over Julianne's face.

”A plane?” The girl sat up groggily. ”Why are we on a plane?”

”Because we're taking you home,” Genna replied, dreading what came next.

She'd been coached by Anne Marie, who, as a psychologist, had stressed the importance of answering truthfully any questions Julianne might ask. But Anne Marie wasn't here, looking into those blue eyes, anxious even through the residual effects of the sleep she'd been coaxed into by Jayne Young, the agent who'd been sent to a.s.sist with Genna's flight from the Valley of the Angels with Julianne. A little sleeping aid into the hot chocolate had been all it had taken to rock Julianne gently to sleep.

Just as well, Genna thought, since the ride to the airport over treacherous roads had been anything but smooth. When they'd finally reached a stretch of highway that was all but closed due to drifting snow, Jayne had called for a.s.sistance, which had arrived in the form of a road crew and several agents who'd blocked the way from Linden with a mock accident that prevented the inevitable caravan that had been sent to find and return Julianne to the compound. By keeping her car directly behind the snowplow, Jayne made it to the airstrip in time for the small jet to take off before the worst of the storm hit. All in all, it had been a hair-raising trip, and Genna wasn't sorry that Julianne had missed the worst of it. No doubt the drama of the ride would have scared her half to death.

All behind us now, Genna reminded herself.

Then again, for Julianne, perhaps the worst still lay ahead. How to convince this child that her beloved father was a kidnapper and a liar, not to mention a conspirator in a scheme that sent her friends into slavery of the most debauched sort? That he'd told his worst lie to her?

And why now, Genna wondered, would Julianne believe the truth, told to her by a stranger?

”Why are we on a plane to go home? We can go in the car. . . .” Julianne sat all the way up and looked out the window. ”Where is my daddy?”

Genna exchanged an anxious glance with Jayne, then said, ”Julianne, there's something we need to talk about. . . .”

The girl's head turned toward her.

”Why did you call me that?” The look on her face was total shock. ”My name is Rebecca. Rebecca West.”

”No, honey, I think you know that's not true,” Genna said in her softest voice. ”Think. Think hard . . .”

”My name is Rebecca. I don't know why you called me . . . that other name. I'm Rebecca,” she insisted, her face white, her fingers clutching the arms of her seat.

”Do you remember when your father first started calling you Rebecca?” Jayne asked gently.

Julianne stared at her.

”It was when you were five, do you remember?” Genna tried to take one of the girl's trembling hands, but Julianne pulled them out of reach.

Genna looked up at Jayne, who understood. The girl felt double-teamed. Without another word, Jayne walked to the front of the cabin.

”Do you remember when your father first told you that he wanted to call you Rebecca?” Genna asked again.

Slowly, Julianne nodded her head.

”Did he tell you why?”

She nodded again. ”Because my mommy had named me . . . the other name. And my mommy died and went to heaven and took my name with her. So I had to have a new name.”

Genna closed her eyes and squeezed them tightly shut to close out the girl's pain.

”Do you remember when you were called Julianne?”

She stared at Genna, then out the window. When her eyes returned to Genna's face, she whispered in the voice of a very small child, ”I'm not supposed to. Daddy said it would make us both too sad to think about Mommy, so I'm not supposed to remember her. I'm not supposed to remember being . . .” She could not bring herself to speak the name.

”Do you remember your mother, Julianne?” Genna asked.

Another nod of the head. ”Don't tell my father.”

”I won't, sweetheart.” Genna turned her seat around to face Julianne, wondering how she would get out the words she knew she had to say. She wished this hadn't come up until they'd landed. Surely Annie would know the best thing to say. Genna had only her instincts to guide her, and she wasn't sure how good they were. ”But there is something I need to tell you.”