Cracked (36 page)

“I guess the stuff is good, huh,” Chandler was saying. “You’re not even flinching.”

“It is,” I said, gazing at the rock in front of me. It had to be somewhere between three and four eightballs, probably twelve or thirteen grams. Even I couldn’t do all that on my own, in one sitting. Maybe he was trying to kill me by overdose. I didn’t care. Somewhere in my brain I remembered Jack telling me how much this man hated addicts. But I believed that this batch wasn’t tainted.

Danny, stop
.

Chandler was finished patching up my ear, and I touched it. A large gauze pad was covering the right side of my head.

“You have medical training?” I asked. He was squatting at my feet now, removing my socks and Ginger’s hiking boots. When had I put those on? Oh yeah. Before going to the airport. Back in California.

Years ago.

“A bit,” Chandler said. “Army. Back in my misspent youth.”

I nodded at him, encouraging him to go on. I couldn’t talk yet. I was trying to think. I fingered the pipe, but didn’t pick it up.

“This ankle is a mess,” Chandler said. “It’s very swollen.” As he capably but gently pressed my foot and ankle to determine if anything was broken, I watched curiously. Everything else had receded: Ginger’s death – and possibly Darren’s – Jack, the rest of the family. Even the twins. Nothing mattered but this, this moment. I had to get my head together. I had the largest amount of the best-quality crack I had ever seen at one time sitting in front of me, and I was pretty sure that someone’s life was going to depend on my not smoking it.

If Darren made it, he would have told the police, or someone, about what had happened. They would be looking for me. But how? Looking for me in the thousands and thousands of acres of snow-covered Maine wilderness.

If Darren had made it.

Danny
.
Stop
.

I took my hand away from the pipe. Chandler was wrapping my ankle carefully. The gun was on the floor behind him, out of my reach. I couldn’t trust my reflexes right now; that much I knew. But would I get another chance as good as this? I figured I would need at least another half an hour to clear my brain enough to be able to function, for my body to respond to my brain’s commands and for my brain to figure out the best course of action.

I would get another chance. I would have to.

Footsteps behind me, two sets.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Jeanette said from behind me. “I thought we should have a real family reunion.” I felt a prickle up the back of my neck and when I turned around I saw that she was leading someone into the kitchen. Someone who was blindfolded, shackled, handcuffed.

And had red hair.

“Fred,” I said. I tried to think past the crack. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Chandler shook his finger at me. “You are slick, Danny,” he said. “Cool as a cucumber.” I smiled at him, which at least I could manage, with all the crack. “Jeanette honey, let Fred have a seat at the table. And with all of us here, I really don’t think he needs such elaborate restraints.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Fred should join the party.” I found myself nodding my head happily, not sure if I really was that high, or I was playing it up to give myself time to think. “He looks thirsty.”

“Oh indeed he does,” Chandler said. “Jeanette, would you mind…?”

Jeanette looked as though she minded very much indeed, but in a minute Fred was sitting in a chair down the table with his hands free and the blindfold off. She cuffed him to the chair and in the manner of a teenager being told to clean her room, managed not to spill the glass half full of wine that she plonked on the table in front of Fred. She glanced at Chandler and poured herself a glass.

I had to think, I had to think, but it felt like it was too much. Darren was going to die, and Fred, and maybe Luke, if I didn’t do this right.

“Stuff is strong,” I said pleasantly to Chandler. “Nice.”

I looked at Fred then, looked at his eyes and tried to convey a message of apology, and strength, and to give him a
trust me
vibe. Jeanette was watching me carefully, but Chandler had gotten up and was ladling out a bowl of stew for Fred.

Fred didn’t look at me. He looked at the table in front of him. He didn’t look like he was there at all. He hadn’t touched his wine, or moved his hands from his lap after Jeanette had removed the handcuffs. I thought he was probably drugged. Not crack, there’s no way he would smoke it, and he certainly didn’t look high. He just looked… gone. Broken.

I looked around me as though studying the architecture and design elements of the room. Weapons. In any room, you can find something to use as a weapon to protect yourself. Five minutes ago, I would just have worried about killing Chandler and probably Jeanette and saving Luke. Now I had a catatonic Fred on my hands.

Miller wasn’t taking Fred to prison, he was taking him to Maine. They’d probably gotten on a private plane five minutes after we did. Maybe with Lola in tow. A plane that had dropped Miller off in Toronto to help torture Gene.

Fred was here, sitting feet away from me, and he was completely devoid of any means to protect himself. He had never had any physical ability that I had seen, and whatever drug he had been given – or maybe he had just crawled somewhere deep into his head and decided to stay there – he looked docile and defenceless.

Which meant that I would have to be strong. One last time. Just to get Fred and Luke out of this. I had to do that for Ginger. Then, whatever happened to me, whatever I did, didn’t matter.

“How long have you been hiding out in the wilderness, Fred?” I asked, as though we were meeting at a dinner party.

“Oh not long, not long,” Chandler said. He gently placed the bowl of stew in front of Fred, and after a minute, grabbed a water glass from the cupboard and filled it from the tap. I watched as Fred reached out and grabbed the glass, took a small sip as though he didn’t trust it. Then he poured it down his throat. I stared at his Adam’s apple slowly bobbing as he swallowed, and tried to think.

Jeanette was reading a newspaper. I hadn’t seen her grab it, and I felt like I had lost minutes somewhere. Chandler was whistling happily and was busying himself at the sink. He seemed to be washing dishes. I reached up and touched the side of my head, the side with the bandage. Of course there was no pain, not filled with drugs, but I felt strangely out of balance. I still couldn’t hear from my right ear.

I looked over at Fred. He was staring at me, with no emotion. Did he know Luke was here?
Was
Luke here?

“What happened to you?” he said. It came out with a croak. He cleared his throat.

Jeanette looked over at Chandler, who didn’t seem to care that we were talking. She went back to her paper.

“Detective Miller,” I said. “Darren and I went to Skip and Marie’s and he was there.”

“She killed him,” Jeanette said, without looking up. “Second of my siblings she’s killed.” She took a sip of wine.

“Now, now,” Chandler said. He wagged a soapy finger at Jeanette. “Be nice to our guests, my dear. Danny has just been looking after her own, just like we do. That’s why we have come to value her so much.”

“If you can’t beat them, have them join you?” I said. And smiled. I busied my hands with the pipe, not intending to smoke anymore but I wanted Chandler and Jeanette to think I was nothing but a slave to the crack, malleable.

That was true. But I had to be stronger right now than I had ever needed to be. Once this was over I could do what I liked, and before I left here I would hopefully be able to grab this nice, big, fantastic rock. But right now, I needed a clear head.

I knew I was going to have to smoke a bit more, though. They would notice if I didn’t.

At least, that’s what I told myself.

Chandler laughed. “Oh, Danny,” he said. He grabbed another bottle of red from a small wine rack over the fridge. “We’ve already beaten you. We just think you’d be a great addition to the family.”

Jeanette stared daggers at me, but said nothing. She licked a finger and made a show of turning the page of the newspaper. Typical passive-aggressive teenage behaviour. Seemed to me like her development had stopped sometime when she was sixteen. Probably had, growing up in this family. I tried to feel some sympathy for her, remembering what Jack had told me, but I just couldn’t.

“I have a family,” I said, but friendly. “One of them is sitting right over there.” I nodded at Fred’s end of the table, and for the first time felt a twinge of pain. Good. It meant the crack was wearing off. Pain meant that my brain was clearing up, and messages were making their way from my body. I tried to twirl my ankle around, testing it. Chandler had wrapped it well.

“I’m sorry, Danny,” Fred said. He started to cry then, like I had never seen. His chin was lowered to his chest. He was a picture of utter despair and defeat. “It’s all my fault. All of it.”

“No it’s not, Fred,” I said. “It’s everyone’s. Mine, and Jack’s, and even Ginger’s. We all had a hand in bringing this into our lives.” And as I said it I knew it was true. It’s was everybody’s fault, and nobody’s. Nobody except the evil man feeding us stew. I took a quiet, deep breath. “I’m sure Chandler here had this planned for a long time. Am I right?”

Chandler smiled, shrugged modestly. He was opening another bottle of wine. He pulled out the cork and smelled it. “Sometimes a plan just comes together,” he said. “Smell that.” He passed me the cork. “You can smell Tuscany on that cork.” I took a whiff.

“If Tuscany smells like red wine, well then, I’m with you,” I said. Chandler pulled fresh glasses from the cupboard and ceremoniously poured us each a glass. Jeanette pointedly ignored him.

“You have a lot to learn, Danny,” Chandler said. “You’re a very wealthy woman now. You should cultivate an interest in the finer things in life.”

“Well this here crack cocaine is pretty fine,” I said.

Chandler nodded. “If that’s what you want, well of course that’s your choice.” He was waving the glass under his nose and I itched to reach out and smack it from his pretentious hand. “I’ve never approved of drugs. But I’ve always believed – and taught my children, and anyone else who follows me – that you can get whatever you want, if you want it enough.”

“And what do you want from us now?” Fred said. “Jack and Ginger are dead. Danny and I are rich and broken. Is this the plan?” I willed him to pick up his spoon – the only utensil, I noticed, that Chandler had given him – and have some stew. He would need his strength, no matter what was to come. And as soon as I thought it he did, as though he had forgotten it was there. Good.

“Fred, I’m glad you asked. I am really, really glad.” Chandler looked at us, beaming. “It’s getting late. Do you two want to get some sleep, or should we have a chat first? I have a proposition for you both. But we can talk about it in the morning. I make superb blueberry pancakes. I can’t wait for you to try them.”

I looked at Fred. I knew morning would be best. A night of rest, if I could get any, would help. A clearer head, and time to think. I hadn’t had so much crack that I couldn’t get a few hours.

Then again, the level of crack in my system just now meant that I was thinking more clearly and I knew I could feel some pain, but in the morning I didn’t know if I could count on the adrenaline I would need. The pain in my ankle would be worse in the morning.

And I needed more crack. A fine balance. Not too much, not too little.

“Oh hell, let’s chat now,” I said. “I’m sitting here with a nice buzz on, and while I’m sure your pancakes are to die for, I might want a nice lie-in tomorrow. It’s been a bit of a day.” I smiled at Chandler and fiddled with the rock of crack, breaking some of it into small pieces. My hands were shaking. I wanted this crack more than I had ever wanted anything, ever. More than love, more than anything.

“Sure,” Fred said. “But do you think we could sit in the living room? And do you think I could get these off?” He motioned to the chains around his legs and the chair. “I’m not going anywhere. But my legs are cramping.”

Jeanette looked at Chandler, who nodded at her. She slid her gun over to Chandler while she squatted on the floor and freed Fred’s legs. Chandler picked it up and held it casually, but I noticed that he had his finger ready at the trigger.

We made our way slowly into the living room. My ankle was bad. Very bad. But as Jeanette helped me across the room, I exaggerated quite how much pain I was in. Chandler directed me to sit in an easy chair with my bad ankle up on an ottoman. He carefully placed the small tray with the drug gear on a side table next to me, along with my glass of wine, a few cigarettes and an ashtray.

“Quite the host,” I said. Chandler looked sincerely pleased at the compliment.

I am going to kill you slowly
, I thought, smiling at him.
And if I enjoy it, and go to hell for it, then so be it
.

Fred was on the couch next to Chandler, and Jeanette sat on the floor near the fire, her weapon and the newspaper in front of her.

“Everybody comfy?” Chandler asked. He looked totally at his ease, his feet in slippers on the coffee table. To the manor born.

“Fire away,” I said. I looked at Jeanette. “Figure of speech.” I smiled at her.

She didn’t smile back.

It was simple, he said.

“I feel I’ve gotten to know you both. Well of course, Fred and I have spent a great deal of time together.” He clapped Fred on the shoulder. Fred looked sick.

“You both know about my Family.” I could hear the capital F. “You’ve each lost a great deal recently. And for that I am truly sorry.” I fiddled with the crack in my lap. I could feel Jeanette look at me.

“Likewise,” I said. “For Lola and Miller.”

“I won’t deny that finding Jack again – Scott, to us – was a great… boost,” Chandler said. “I missed my boy, and I won’t deny it.”

“And his income,” I said. I couldn’t help it. I smiled and pretended to pack my glass stem with crack, meanwhile letting some of it fall into my lap to be brushed off into the recesses of the cushy chair.

“Touché,” Chandler said. He leaned forward and filled Fred’s wine glass, and lifted it, questioning whether I wanted more. I shook my head, waving my crack pipe at him. He nodded. “Danny, I’ve seen how you operate. I’m impressed. As Jack’s widow, you’d be very welcome to become part of the family.”