THE COTTAGE
Chapter 14
Written and Illustrated
By Elaine Troisi
Ramon gripped the steering wheel. Something wasn’t right. Years as a trained operative had taught him to trust his instinct. It had kept him alive.
Caroline’s silence troubled him. He switched off the radio.
He listened.
There.
He heard a faint thump, felt the car tremble.
Another.
Caroline was moving inside the trunk. Doing what?
He eased the car onto the gravel shoulder and killed the engine. He opened the glove compartment.
Caroline froze. Had Ramon heard her? Is that why he had stopped the car? She bit her lip and lay very still.
Again, he threw open the trunk. She felt his rage fill the cramped space.
“You bitch!” he screamed. Spittle formed at the corners of his mouth. He slapped her hard across the face, forcing her head to slam sideways against the back of the trunk. She gasped.
Then she saw it glint in the sunlight!
The syringe.
“Just a little, my pretty!” Now his voice was slimy, mocking her.
She aimed a bitter retort, but it missed the mark. Everything slipped away.
As Ramon was settling into his seat, he caught flashing blue lights in the rearview mirror. A cop car was uncommon on such a lonely stretch of road. He stepped out of the car as an RCMP cruiser pulled up behind him. Ramon quietly slid the syringe into his pocket.
“Good day, officer,” he said calmly.
“Car troubles, sir?”
“Yeah, something flew up and smashed the brake light.”
The constable stood at the back of the car to examine the damage. Then he tapped his fist on the trunk deck and glanced at the license plate number.
Before he returned to Ramon, he knocked on the trunk again.
Ramon remained outwardly calm. On the inside, he was hoping the sedative had taken full effect on Caroline.
Don’t you dare move or make a sound, Caroline!
“Passport, registration, and rental agreement, sir.”
“May I?” Ramon pointed to his jacket. With a nod from the constable, he reached in and pulled out his forged papers.
The officer returned to his vehicle while Ramon waited impatiently.
What is taking him so long? If he is on the lookout for Caroline, he’d have called for backup by now.
The constable returned after what seemed an eternity with his papers.
“Everything appears to be in order, Mr. Mack.”
He turned to go. But he paused, turning back and studying Ramon intently.
“Just one more thing, Mr. Mack.”
“Would you open the trunk, please?”
“Certainly, Officer.” Ramon forced a polite smile. “Let me get the key. It’s still in the ignition.”
I’m going to have to kill this nosy cop!
As he reached for the driver’s side door, the constable’s radio crackled sharply.
“Unit 214, respond immediately. Officer needs assistance at Mile Marker 62. Possible motor vehicle collision with injuries.”
The constable lifted the microphone. “Unit 214. Copy that. I’m en route.”
He turned back to Ramon.
“Sorry, Mr. Mack. I’ll have to cut this short. I’ve got an emergency.”
“No problem, Officer.”
The constable handed back the documents.
“You’re good to go. Drive safely on these narrow roads. Be sure to get that brake light repaired when you reach Sherbrooke.”
“I will. Thank you.”
The RCMP cruiser pulled onto the highway, blue lights flashing as it accelerated away.
Ramon remained perfectly still until the cruiser disappeared around the bend.
Only then did he release the breath he’d been holding.
“That was too close,” he muttered.
He glanced toward the trunk.
“Let’s hope that injection keeps that wildcat under control.” He cursed and turned the ignition.
Caroline was vaguely aware of movement as her body rolled back and forth on the winding road. What time was it? What day? She was more than a little confused, lost in a nightmare that she couldn’t escape.
Ramon saw houses now. He slowed down, not wishing to get pulled over again. But he had no intention of stopping in Sherbrooke.
He automatically checked his gas gauge. No worries there. He had just enough gas to make it to Sheet Harbour.
The drive was easier now. Ramon began to relax. Caroline was quiet. On a short straightaway, he reached into the back seat, grabbed the grocery bag, and pulled it onto the passenger seat. He rummaged among the trash until he found what he wanted—an energy bar and a small bottle of water. He’d forgotten how hungry he was.
The car drifted onto the gravel, and he wrenched it back as he chugged the water and ate the energy bar. He had to slow the car. He glanced at his watch. He realized he was running late, and that agitated him. He cursed himself for being stupid.
For killing his partner and burying him under some brush.
Did I leave a blood trail? Is his body too close to the road?
Ramon put pressure on the gas pedal.
Why did I let Caroline smash the brake light?
“Fool!” he shouted. “I can’t arrive late. Boss will be furious.”
Ramon’s foot became heavier on the pedal.
Just then, he saw blue lights flashing farther ahead.
He slammed on the brakes. The car swerved and screeched.
That RCMP cruiser again.
And this was the accident.
Two cars had collided at an intersection, one of them half in a ditch. Traffic was down to one lane. Ramon swore under his breath.
And the constable was directing traffic.
The same one.
Ramon couldn’t turn around now without drawing attention to himself. He slowed and followed the car ahead.
As he passed, the constable glanced his way.
Their eyes met.
Then the constable’s gaze shifted toward the rear of Ramon’s car.
The broken taillight.
Ramon kept going.
In the mirror, he saw the constable turn to watch him.
Damn.
The first dirt road appeared less than a mile ahead.
Ramon took it. He wasn’t sure where it would lead. Away from that cop, he hoped.
At first the road was gravel, but soon it became more dirt than gravel. Still, there was the occasional shack. Yards with lobster buoys and traps.
A short time later, he stopped and pulled out a map of the Sheet Harbour area.
Ah, there it is. The dock.
He glanced at his watch and swore again.
Ten minutes later, he arrived at the dock in a heavy fog.
The fog was too thick to see through. A boat gradually took shape in front of him. It resembled an oversized lobster boat, but beneath the working deck sat the deep, sleek hull of a cabin cruiser.
Ramon smiled.
Boss had chosen well.
As soon as the odor of fish and seawater reached him, Ramon began to feel sick. He reached into the center console for the Dramamine and popped a pill. He grabbed a new vial and syringe. Last, he checked his automatic and reloaded it. In that moment, a loud rap on the window startled him.
Boss spoke angrily. “You’re late! Get your ass in gear! Open the trunk!”
Boss went to the open trunk and looked inside. He smiled and poked her. The girl moaned but didn’t open her eyes.
“Good,” he growled. “Get her down below, and make it fast. I don’t want anyone seeing her. I’ll hide the car. Keys,” he ordered.
Caroline came back slowly.
Something was different.
She was moving, but not with the steady movement of the car. This was slower. A gentle rise, a pause, then a sinking sensation that made her stomach roll.
She opened her eyes.
Darkness again.
For one terrifying moment, she thought she was still in the trunk.
Then she heard water.
It slapped softly against something close by. An engine throbbed beneath her, sending a steady vibration through the floor.
The air smelled of salt, diesel fuel, and fish.
Caroline struggled to sit up.
A small round window was above her. Through it she could see nothing but black water and thick fog.
She was on a boat.
And they were out on the ocean.
A storm was brewing.
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