She noted his pale face, the streak of a single tear, but told him anyway. “Asphyxiation.”
His lips quivered, but Nicole pushed forward.
“Don’t leave town, Dr. Esparza. None of you are to leave town.”
5
Benjamin woke before dawn. He’d kept the curtains open the night before because he liked looking at the constellations before he fell asleep. Every time he found the archer, he felt the tendons in his neck and shoulders flex. His heartbeat quickened. His birthday—November 29th—made him a Sagittarius. He was by birthright a hunter. And he loved picturing himself etched out in the stars, his mighty arm drawn back, firing a flaming arrow from a golden bow. He was that big, that strong, that bold.
He understood that a clear night sky in the Montana winter was a rare sighting, but he’d hoped. The archer was his North Star. It inspired him, gave him direction. So that morning he woke not certain what he should do. About Esparza, sure; he had a plan. He’d discussed it with the boss and they were of like minds. But about Jordan—he hadn’t worked it out yet.
Yesterday he had sauntered into Nicole’s backyard, a new man. He wanted her to see that. He wanted her to fear it.
But he didn’t want to see Jordan. That was one big fail. Benjamin had never been meant to be a father.
It had always been about Nicole. First, controlling her. He’d wanted a hammer he could pull out of his toolbox whenever he needed it. But she hadn’t cooperated. Now he wanted her to see him and lose her lunch. He laughed at that image. She was cold and scheming and he doubted she’d ever felt fear deeply enough that her stomach heaved with it. She’d never hidden because of it. She’d never run. Even her great exodus from Denver to this bottom-of-the-butt hole had been calculated. And that was totally Nicole.
She threatened. She planned. She executed. She’d cut him off at the knees and devoured the carnage. Benjamin wasn’t a vindictive man, but he did require payment in kind. And what better way to reach Nicole than through their son?
She didn’t know that he had new clientele. People in high places who relied on him, for product and discretion. In his current circle, favors were distributed like candy at a parade.
It was time to announce his arrival. To take out the trumpets and make it known. Benjamin Kris was in town, and he was a new man.
Beside him, Charlene’s breath moved smoothly in and out of her lungs. It didn’t rattle in her chest. It didn’t guzzle in her nose. She was a quiet sleeper. He appreciated that. He lifted the blanket, slid out of bed, and tucked it back around her shoulders. He grabbed his smartphone and padded across the thick carpeting and out onto the terrace, barefoot and bare chested. Snow flurries melted against his skin, and the cold shot up from the soles of his feet, pinged the joints at his knees and hips, and lodged unnoticed in his heart.
His skin puckered, but he didn’t shudder. He’d often thought about joining those crazies for the polar bear plunge, but New York was a cesspool and he tried not to travel east of the Appalachians.
He opened a file on his phone and clicked through a series of photos. Charlene thought that Christmas photo when Jordan was three years old was the most recent they had of his son. But she was wrong. Nicole hadn’t cared enough to send any, but he had hired a private investigator to do the job for him. He had photos of Nicole dating back to the year she’d left Denver. Recently he’d had photos taken of Jordan as well. The boy had Benjamin’s build, thin but with potential. The awkward shoulders that might fill out. The small feet that never would.
Nicole had bought his wrong-place-wrong-time story, and he had seduced her. If nothing else, he was damn charming. An important quality for a man who made his living as a salesman.
“Benjamin?”
He turned. Charlene stood in the doorway, a thin silk robe tied loosely around her waist. She held a gun in her hand. A Sig Sauer 9mm. A cop’s pistol and chosen for that very purpose. Charlene loved irony.
“You’re going to get pneumonia out here,” she said.
Her tone wasn’t chiding or corrective. Charlene could be concerned without criticizing. He’d lucked out there. Most women were born to mother and smother. Not Charlene. She was mommy material, but she had her own needs too, and those kept her from dwelling on the comfort of others.
“You can put the gun away,” he said. “There’s nothing out here.”
“I like it, though, you know?” She raised her hand and pressed the magazine against her cheek. “Cold. I like that. Death is cold, and its means should be too.”
He smiled. He loved when she spoke about life and death. She had a perspective that made sense. “You didn’t need it this time.”
She hesitated before she agreed. “No, I didn’t.”
He walked toward her and took her free hand in his. Even barefoot she was taller, leaner, stronger than him. Another thing he loved about Charlene. She was no pushover. And still she let him be the boss. She preferred it, looked to him for that kind of guidance. “You’re just as good up close. It was better that way.”
Less trace evidence when it was done right.
“I’ve done it before, but I don’t like it. Life pulsing under my fingertips. Warm breath. Tears. I don’t like any of that. I prefer cold steel.” She rubbed the pistol against her skin, and he knew she really felt it was an extension of herself.
“It would have been better if you hadn’t let her run,” Benjamin said. “Work and play don’t mix, Charlene.”
She nodded. “You’re right. Of course.”
He took the gun out of her hand and pushed it into the waistband of his pajama bottoms. The first touch burned, the steel was so cold. Kiss of death. It should be exactly like that. His hand tightened on hers, and he pulled her through the door and into their bedroom. Sometimes Charlene liked to be reminded of that. How close the two existed. How the difference between life and death was a dotted line at best.
6
The towers stood 328 feet tall, each with three blades that tilted slowly, creating a whooshing sound as they picked up and recycled the air. There were several wind farms in Toole County now, and Nicole had grown used to them. It seemed that every time she descended a mountain pass, it was into a stretch of valley populated by the turbines. She didn’t like them. There had been too many accidents in the few years since they went up, and jurisdiction had recently shifted from the county to the state so that even Nicole had trouble figuring out who was responsible for regulating their safety.
That morning, with the sun just rising and the shadows of the turbines elongating, an unnatural hush fell over the hills. Nicole knew that silence was deceptive.
She had stayed with the Esparza family for more than an hour and during that time had received few straight answers about the night before. Perhaps nothing accurate about their stay in Montana. When a simple yes or no to a direct question was called for, Nicole had gotten evasion: Did you watch TV with your sister? She only likes reality shows … Does Beatrice have friends here? We’ve met a few people on the slopes … Did Beatrice go to a party? Maybe, but she didn’t tell me that …
Until she’d asked if Beatrice had left the room willingly. Then Joaquin’s reply had been explosive.