Part 39 (1/2)

She stood up and stared at her handiwork. Zeke lay facedown on the wooden floor, bound and gagged like a hog. Not by the strongest ropes, but without any leverage he would be hard-pressed to break any of the bonds.

I've stopped him, she thought. I've tied Zeke up.

It took a moment for this thought to become real for her because the very idea still struck her as somehow impossible. Nothing could stop Zeke. That's just the way it was.

And yet there he was, out cold, like a side of beef.

So why was she just staring at him? She had to make a call, so why was she just standing here if he was bound up like a dead bull?

She'd done that?

Slowly the significance of her accomplishment settled into her mind, and with each breath her resolve to do what she'd come to do grew.

This is what it means to walk through the valley of the shadow of death, she thought. Eden claimed to be a water walker. Maybe this meant that she too was a water walker.

Somehow she doubted that.

Didn't matter. She was going to save that water walker.

”Don't move,” she said, jaw firm. Then she turned her back on Zeke, walked into his office, crossed to the desk, and lifted the phone.

”This is for you, Eden,” she whispered, and with her forefinger she pressed the number 9, then 1 and another 1.

A female operator answered after the second ring.

”Thank you for calling 911, please state the nature of your emergency.”

”Yes . . .” She lost track of what words to use.

”Ma'am, please state the nature of your emergency.”

”Yes . . . I . . .”

”It's okay, honey. Tell me what's wrong.”

Kathryn drew a deep breath.

”I would like to report a kidnapping,” she said.

A hesitation.

”Who's been kidnapped, Ma'am?”

”Alice Ringwald, daughter of the late congressman James Ringwald, was taken from her home in Greenville, South Carolina, five years ago. She is being held at 2090 Rosecrans Road south of Interstate 10 out of Lafayette, Louisiana. Please inform the FBI, I'm sure they have a file.”

”Are you sure about this, ma'am?”

”Of course I'm sure. I have the man who kidnapped her bound up on the floor in the next room.”

”And do you have his name?”

”His name is Zeke Gunner and he's the devil.”

Another short pause.

”And how do you know that Zeke Gunner kidnapped Alice Ringwald, ma'am?”

”Because I helped him do it,” she said. ”Please hurry.”

Then she dropped the receiver in its cradle and walked back into the living room.

There, she thought. There. I've undone it.

Now what? But as soon as the question presented itself, she knew exactly what now.

Now she would wait and let the chips fall where they would fall.

Kathryn walked to Zeke's preferred high-backed, upholstered chair in the corner of the living room, poured two fingers of his preferred Scotch into a crystal gla.s.s on the side table, and sat down.

Zeke's body remained where she'd left it, back slowly rising and falling as he breathed in darkness. Not so much now, was he? No, not at all.

She leaned back, crossed one leg over, and swirled the Scotch in her gla.s.s. Eden wouldn't do it this way, she was sure of that. She would probably just walk on down the street, having no worry. After all, she could heal her own leg.

No, Eden wouldn't do it this way, but then Eden probably wouldn't do it at all. And either way, she wasn't Eden.

She was Eden's mother. And as her mother, she wasn't going to let anyone hurt her again. Ever. Not Claude, not Zeke, not herself.

”They're going to lock you up and throw away the key, you stupid pig.”

She didn't hear Zeke speak the words with her ears, but she could hear him nonetheless, speaking from her own mind.

”Shut up, Zeke,” she said.

She threw back the Scotch as she'd seen him do so many times, swallowed it in one gulp, and slapped the empty gla.s.s back down on the lamp table.

”Just shut up.”

29.

Two Days Later

WE SAT in our living room-Mother, Wyatt, myself, and Olivia, the FBI agent who'd worked my case since that first night when Wyatt took me from my home in Greenville, South Carolina. They were talking about the law and about the consequences of their actions, but my mind was on something else. On someone else.

On Stephen Carter, the Outlaw.