Jack of Diamonds Page 24

  “Promise me.” Aunt Haddie’s voice trembled.

  Alice had never lied to Aunt Haddie before, but she found herself doing it now. There was no way she’d leave her behind. “I promise.” Her fingers tightened on the wood in her hand.

  There were two captors. Lenora had mentioned both a “he” and a “she.” Alice would take the man by surprise with her weapon. As for the woman—well, Jack had only recently started teaching Alice karate, but what she lacked in skill she’d make up for with extreme violence.

  Footsteps sounded in the distance. Alice’s legs started shaking but she scrambled to her feet and listened closely.

  These footsteps didn’t sound like Lenora’s. Hard, flat heels clicked off the wood. Shoes, not sneakers.

  “Someone’s coming,” Alice whispered.

  The footsteps stopped outside her door. Alice gripped the wood splinter. She’d aim for the throat.

  Metal scraped, and the little slide door opened. Light streamed through; it wasn’t much, but it made Alice squint. She crouched down.

  A man in a suit stood in the hallway. She could only see from his chest down. Alice moved to the side of the door, trying not to make a sound. Maybe if he couldn’t see her, he’d crouch down to peer in and she could stab him in the eye through the slit. She’d still be trapped, but Lenora was still out there, and if Alice killed the man, Lenora could get the key . . .

  The scent of men’s cologne wafted into Alice’s cell.

  “Alton?” Aunt Haddie shouted, and her door rattled. “Alton, is that you?”

  Oh, no . . . not now!

  “Alton!” Aunt Haddie pounded on the door. “The closet door is stuck. I can’t get out.”

  The man walked over to Aunt Haddie’s door. “Quiet.” His voice was a growl.

  “Leave her alone! She has Alzheimer’s. She thinks you’re her husband.”

  “Who’s out there with you, Alton? Stop fooling around and open the door this instant.”

  Alice heard a key in a lock. “Please!” she shouted. “Please don’t hurt her!”

  She pressed her eyes to the slot in the door. She could see a few feet down the hallway, but the man was turned away from her, so she still couldn’t see his face. She heard Haddie’s door open, and then saw her step into the hallway.

  “Sometimes you can be such a twit, Alton,” Aunt Haddie said, smoothing her dress. “I must have asked you a hundred times to fix that doorknob.”

  Alice sobbed. Aunt Haddie looked past him at Alice. Their eyes met, just barely, and Aunt Haddie smiled like she had just taken a tray of cookies out of the oven. Then her right hand balled into a fist, and she swung hard. She caught the man on the bottom of his chin and knocked his head up and around. His hat fell off, and at last Alice could see his face.

  It was no man.

  It was Lenora!

  Aunt Haddie followed up with a left jab that knocked Lenora to the floor. Bending over Lenora, Aunt Haddie hit her again, then yanked the key from her hand and hurried to Alice’s door.

  “You’re amazing!” Alice gasped as she finally realized that Aunt Haddie had been faking her memory lapse.

  “I was your age once.” Aunt Haddie’s hands shook as she tried to get the key into the lock.

  “Just calm down,” Alice said as the key wouldn’t go in.

  “It’s not that.” Aunt Haddie shook her head. “It’s the wrong key!”

  “Watch out!” Alice cried.

  Just as Aunt Haddie started to turn away, Lenora slammed into her and Aunt Haddie’s head smacked hard against the wood. She slumped to her knees. Lenora grabbed the old woman and bashed her head into the door again.

  Screaming in rage, Alice drove her arm through the slot in the door like a spear. Her splinter missed Lenora’s stomach but struck her arm, sinking into the flesh. When Lenora shrieked and dropped to her knees, Alice got hold of Lenora’s hair.

  Lenora grabbed Alice’s arm and pulled it through the door slot, scraping skin off, but Alice hung on. Then something jabbed into Alice’s arm like a bee sting. Alice pulled her arm back hard, trying to smash Lenora’s head into the door. Instead, she fell back onto the floor of her cell. In her hand was a clump of Lenora’s hair ripped from her scalp.

  Alice’s arm trembled and burned. A syringe was sticking out of it. Lenora had injected her with something again. Alice pulled the syringe out and made it to her knees, her vision blurring. “You’re dead.” She tried to scream, but her voice was a slurred whisper. “Jack is going to find you.”

  Lenora smiled. “I’m counting on it.”

  Alice gasped, and everything went dark.

  56

  Jack handed Marisa his phone. “While I drive, I need you to go through my contact list. Anyone who lives in Darrington, call and tell them I need them to take to the streets and look for a red Ford Focus. And give me your phone.”

  “Why?” she asked, already skimming the contacts, her long nails tapping on each name.

  “I need to make some calls.”

  While Marisa pulled up Jack’s contacts, Jack used her phone to call Paula at Channel 5. “Paula, it’s Jack Stratton. This is urgent.” He brought the reporter up to speed on what had happened. “Can you run the description of the car right now?”

  “We’ll run it as an emergency alert,” Paula said. “I have contacts at the affiliate stations. I’ll reach out to them as well.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  Jack’s next call was to Kiku. He blew through a red light as he prayed she would answer a call from an unknown number.

  “Hello?”

  “Kiku, it’s Jack.” He could hear the desperation in his own voice. “I know you’re busy—”

  “My work is done. I am on my way.”

  “A killer has Alice and Aunt Haddie.”

  “I am so sorry. I am in a plane still more than eight hours away.”

  Jack ran his hand through his hair and beat the steering wheel with a fist.

  “Send me all the information you have. I will come up to speed on the way.”

  “I will.” Jack exhaled.

  Eight hours. It will be too late by then. It may be too late now.

  “I will pray for them. And for you, my friend,” Kiku said.

  As Jack hung up, he did the same. He prayed.

  Please, God, help me find them.

  He turned to Marisa, who was just finishing another call. “I need you to send some of my photographs to this number.” He held up the phone so she could see Kiku’s number.

  “Okay. You have a ton of pictures. Where do you want to start?”

  “Everything but the earlier ones, of Alice and me. There’s a picture of me with Alice on a carousel . . .” Jack’s chest tightened when he thought of that day. When Alice begged to ride a second time, Jack led her to the carousel’s pretend horse-drawn carriage, set her down on his lap, and took a rare selfie. He couldn’t remember ever being so happy . . .

  Marisa reached out and squeezed his arm. Jack cleared his throat. “Start with the photographs after that one. Pictures of the house where we found the bodies, the sketches taped to the wall, the invitation . . .”

  An image of the invitation flashed through Jack’s mind. He jerked the wheel to the right and skidded to a stop on the side of the road.

  “What are you doing?” Marisa asked.

  “Give me the phone.” Jack grabbed it and scrolled through the photos until he found the one he was looking for. He zoomed in on the wedding invitation.

  “The killer had my wedding invitation pinned to the wall. We went through the guest list and everyone who received one. They all still had theirs. But Alice threw an unused box of invitations away.”

  “So, anyone could have gotten ahold of them,” Marisa said. “There’s no way of knowing whose it was.”

  “No, there is! Alice personally handed out invitations to everyone working the wedding.” Jack zoomed in and pointed at the screen. “Look—that pin! It has a gold head. It’s
a dress pin. I got stuck by one when Alice was trying on her wedding dress.”

  Marisa’s eyes widened. “Are you saying it’s Lenora?”

  Rocks pinged off the undercarriage of the Charger as Jack jammed down the gas.

  Please God, help me not be too late.

  57

  Alice’s eyes slowly fluttered open. The world spun, but she stayed where she was—standing.

  What the . . .?

  Nausea washed over her and she felt like she was about to vomit.

  Yes, she was definitely standing up, and her head was held high, but she couldn’t move. She was wearing her wedding dress, stockings, the special-order beaded shoes, and the veil. A bouquet of flowers was tied to her hands, her arms held tightly against her chest. The scent of the flowers made her queasy stomach flip. She strained to move her arms and legs, but her body was trapped in some kind of frame that held her rigidly upright. Even her head was nearly immobilized.

  Her gaze darted around the room. Aunt Haddie sat in a chair to her left, wearing a beautiful blue dress and a hat with a long arching feather. She had a box of tissues in her left hand and a tissue clutched in her right. Her chin was lifted but her eyes were closed. A metal rod peeked out underneath her raised arm, and a strap holding her head up was just visible beneath the brim of her hat. Alice breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Aunt Haddie’s chest rise and fall.

  To Alice’s right stood the dead woman that Alice had punched in the car outside Shawna’s apartment. Her gray eyes were open and staring right at Alice.

  All three of them had been posed like mannequins at one end of an enormous open warehouse. Racks upon racks of fabrics and dresses stretched into the distance. The floor was made of the same thick old boards that had been in Alice’s cell. Some paper or film covered the large windows, giving the light from outside a yellowish tint. A framework of thin pipes ran across the ceiling.

  “Aunt Haddie,” Alice whispered. “Aunt Haddie, wake up!”

  Haddie’s nose twitched and her eyes snapped open. Panic crossed her face, and she started to struggle.

  “Aunt Haddie, it’s okay. I’m right here,” Alice said. “We’re tied up and we can’t move.”

  Aunt Haddie stopped fighting, but she still looked terrified. “Where are we?”

  “I think it’s the dressmaker’s warehouse.”

  “Is someone next to you?”

  Aunt Haddie was trying to see around Alice but couldn’t move her head.

  “She’s dead.”

  “Oh, Lord help us.” Aunt Haddie started struggling again. “What does that crazy girl want with us?”

  Alice clamped her eyes closed until they burned. She focused on the darkness, letting a map of information spread in her mind. “It’s something to do with weddings. Look how I’m dressed and how you’re posed. There’s even a unity candle.”

  “But why?”

  “I don’t know. But once she’s done with whatever this is, we’re dead.”

  Soft footsteps sounded in the distance. Alice strained to look. Lenora came into view, carrying flowers.

  “I’m so sorry.” Her mouth twisted as she set the flowers around the unity candle. “My parents . . . they’re very insistent.” She took out a lighter and lit the candle.

  “Lenora,” Alice said. “You don’t have to do this. You can let us go.”

  Lenora shook her head. “I can’t. My parents won’t let me. I have to set up the wedding, and they want to see you in your dress.”

  “Then let us go before they get here,” Aunt Haddie said.

  “No!” Lenora covered her ears.

  “Why are you doing this?” Alice asked.

  “I’m not doing anything. It’s my father. He’s so angry.”

  “Why?”

  Lenora’s eyes blazed. “Because of her”—she thrust a finger out toward the dead woman—“and all the others. My parents worked their fingers to the bone to make each and every wedding gown spectacular for the most important day of their lives. Every dress as unique as the bride who wore it. And what do you do?” Lenora stepped so close to Alice that she could feel Lenora’s breath on her cheek. “You wear it once. One time, and then it goes into a box. But this . . .” She tapped Alice’s diamond engagement ring. “This hunk of hardened coal? This rock? You brides wear it every day for the rest of your lives.”

  “Alice isn’t even married yet!” Aunt Haddie said. “She couldn’t have angered your parents.”

  Lenora smiled serenely. “Not Alice. Alice is special. She’s nice. She’ll never make my parents angry, because she’ll never take the dress off.”

  “I won’t,” Alice said. “I’ll wear it every single day. I promise. Just give me a chance and—”

  “No!” Lenora screamed. “My father gave them all a chance. A year, a decade, fifty years, it didn’t matter. None of them wore it again. Not one. I would have killed to have had my father design a wedding gown for me. I would have been proud to wear it. But he said it was bad luck to design a dress for an unengaged woman . . . and now it’s too late.” Tears streamed down her face. “Do you know how long it takes to make a dress like this?”

  “I didn’t even want a fancy wedding or a designer dress!” Alice shouted. “I wanted a simple, small wedding. I wanted to wear Aunt Haddie’s dress.”

  Lenora slapped Alice across the face. “You should be honored to wear an original Soriano.”

  “Why?” Alice scoffed. “It’s itchy and makes my butt look big.”

  Lenora slapped her again.

  “Stop it this instant!” Aunt Haddie demanded. “You will not strike her again!”

  Lenora slowly turned to glare at Aunt Haddie.

  Alice swore.

  “Alice!” Aunt Haddie admonished. She met Lenora’s scowl with a patient smile. “You and I need to talk, young lady.”

  Lenora looked down at the floor and shook her head. “No. I’m going to get my mother now. The wedding needs to be perfect.” She turned and disappeared into the depths of the warehouse.

  “She’s completely wacko,” Alice said.

  “Don’t be cruel. She’s obviously had some type of breakdown.”

  “She’s way past a breakdown, Aunt Haddie. The wheels have come off her crazy train and it’s going over the bridge. Do you know any bride who wore her wedding dress after her wedding day?”

  Aunt Haddie shook her head—or tried to.

  “This is legit nuts. Going psycho over a bride not wearing her wedding dress more than once is like the piñata maker getting mad that kids bash his papier-mâché sculpture to get the candy. The fact that you only get to wear your bridal gown for one day is part of what makes your wedding day so special. This is just so wrong!” Alice was so angry, the frame holding her rattled and banged against the floor.

  “I agree with you, Alice, but you still need to pray for her.”

  “I’ll pray for a piano to fall on her head.”

  Alice desperately looked around. She couldn’t make out anything through the covered windows. For all she knew they were several floors up. And in the middle of nowhere. She screamed anyway.

  “HELP!” she shouted as loudly as she could. “HELP US!”

  Aunt Haddie joined in.

  “Shut up!” Lenora came back wheeling a dolly with another body strapped to it. This one, another woman, had clearly been dead for years. The skin on her face resembled leather, but her bright-green dress was crisp and new, and her golden jewelry sparkled. Lenora wheeled the corpse beside Aunt Haddie. “This is my mother, Marie.”

  “I don’t mean to be rude,” Alice said. “But you are aware she’s dead . . . right?”

  Lenora pulled out a gun.

  “She didn’t mean that,” Aunt Haddie said quickly.

  “I sure did!” Alice yelled. “Go ahead and shoot!”

  Aunt Haddie’s eyes widened. “You think someone will hear the gunshot and come for me!” She frowned at Alice.

  The gun wobbled in Lenora’s hand. “Be quiet
or I’ll shoot you both.” She pointed the gun at Aunt Haddie. “My father is coming. Say anything and I’ll let him deal with you.” Lenora stalked off.

  Alice waited until Lenora was gone before whispering, “Why did you tell her what I was trying to do?”

  “Because you’re the one who needs to make it out of here,” Aunt Haddie said. “Getting yourself shot so I get rescued makes no sense.”

  “It does to me.”

  “Stop being so ridiculous.”

  Alice rolled her eyes. As she did, she noticed once more the pipes running overhead for a sprinkler system. She looked at the candle. Then at the dead woman standing beside her. They weren’t that far apart.

  She started slowly rocking.

  “What are you doing?” Aunt Haddie asked.

  “I have a plan.”

  “You’d better hurry. When she comes back, she’s expecting to have the perfect wedding and then—”

  Footsteps sounded in the distance. Flat heels on wood.

  Alice looked down at her hands, red and irritated from the bindings. She couldn’t move them, but she could still move her fingers. Using her left thumb, she managed to slide her engagement ring down her finger and flick it away. It tinkled onto the floor and rolled somewhere out of view.

  “What was that?” Aunt Haddie asked.

  “A stall tactic.” I hope.

  Lenora returned. She was once again dressed in a dark blue suit with a white shirt, and her hair was hidden under a fedora. She walked to the dolly where her mother was propped up and kissed the corpse on one cheek, then the other.

  Alice’s stomach turned.

  “That’s revolting,” Aunt Haddie said.

  Lenora turned to them and scowled. “There’s nothing revolting about a man loving his wife.”

  If you closed your eyes, the voice could have been a man’s. And suddenly, Alice understood. Dressed like this, Lenora thought she was her father. This was the “he” she had referred to back in their cells. And the “she” was her mother. Lenora believed she was doing their bidding. Except she was them. She was all three.