Veronique stood at the desk and gazed out at the four men who were left sitting around the barbecue area. A plan started to form in her mind and with Anthony gone she was certain she could execute it flawlessly. Especially if she could count on the four degenerates sitting outside to unwittingly help her before they left for California. A slow, evil smile crept over her face as she picked up the phone and dialed the number to Anthony's home.
Christy sat on the couch and popped her favorite snack into her mouth. Pistachio nuts left her fingers stained red, but she considered it a small price to pay for the enjoyment she got from eating them. She was having a hard time concentrating on the television show she was watching. It was dark outside now, and she realized she was anxious to see Anthony. This had been the longest they'd been apart since the day she drove over the Alley by herself and ended up at the Glades Motel. She shuddered when she thought what could've happened to her if Moe hadn't sought Grizz's help. Not letting herself go down that road, she changed the channel and kept glancing at the drawn blinds that hung on the front window. Even though they were closed, she knew she'd be able to see his headlights through the slats when he pulled up.
The phone in Anthony’s office startled her, and she jumped. Should she answer it? Of course I should, she told herself as she stood and strode to the open door. Why wouldn't she? She could take a message for him without saying her name. Besides, what if it was him? What if it was important. She picked it up on the third ring.
"Hello?"
"Christy, this is Veronique. Doctor Dubois." Christy thought her voice sounded a little different. More high pitched.
"Are you okay? Is something wrong?" she asked the woman, her senses telling her something wasn't right.
"I'm fine, but Anthony isn't," she said, her voice returning to its normal tone.
"What? How do you know that? Where are you?" Christy fired her questions rapidly, her pulse racing.
"I stopped by the camp to do a wellness check on his men, and Anthony pulled in a few minutes later. I guess he needed to come here before heading home to you. Anyway, he got into a horrible fight with one of the guys. It's bad, Christy. I think you should be here."
Christy couldn't catch her breath. "Did you call an ambulance?" she asked, her voice cracking. "I can meet you at the hospital. Which hospital will they take him to?"
"No. I can't call an ambulance. Anthony won't let me and I don't need to tell you the risk I'd be taking if I'm seen at the camp. I'll have to operate on him here."
"Operate?" Christy screamed. "Let me talk to him. Please!"
"I can't bring the phone to him. It won't reach. And he's in no position to get up and walk to it." She sounded exasperated. "You know I'm a surgeon. I can do this." She paused. "I need to remove a bullet, Christy."
Christy swallowed back a sob. "You have to operate on him there? That doesn't seem like a good idea to me."
"I'm a trauma surgeon, and I'm good at what I do. I can safely remove the bullet," she lied in her best authoritative doctor voice. Her next words weren't as easy to get out. "He's asking for you, Christy. He won't let me touch him unless you're here with him."
"I've never been to the camp. Can you tell me how to get there?" Christy asked.
After getting directions and hanging up, Christy grabbed her keys and ran to her car. She didn't lock the house behind her. She didn't remember her bag with her wallet. She started her little car and drove as fast as she could to Camp Sawgrass while her heart hammered so hard she expected it to jump out of her chest.
Chapter Thirty
Naples, Florida 1978
Satisfied by how well the first part of her plan had worked, Veronique decided it was time to put the second part into motion. She picked up her medical bag, marched out the door and headed for the men.
Shasta couldn't believe what she'd heard. The doctor was deliberately luring a woman named Christy to the camp. A woman who, based on what she'd heard Dr. V say, cared enough about Anthony to believe that he'd specifically asked for her. Wasn't Christy the name of the woman Anthony had everyone looking for? She walked to the door and cracked it open, hoping she'd be able to hear what the doctor was going to say to the men as she approached them with long, confident strides. Lucky for Shasta it was a quiet night; not even a cricket was chirping. She watched Veronique place a hand on her hip and address the men in a loud, crisp voice.
"I got the strangest phone call when I was inside," she said to no one in particular.
"From who?" Andrew asked, his voice slightly slurred.
"I don't know. But they said Anthony wanted a message delivered to any of his men who were hanging around."
"What message would that be?" another man asked.
"Well, it's a little cryptic, but I'm sure you guys will know what it means." She moved her medical bag from one hand to the other before continuing. "The man who called said Anthony is sending you a special delivery. I'm not sure what it is, but he specifically said it's something Anthony no longer has a use for. It belongs to you now, and when you're finished with it, he wants to make sure there's no evidence that it was ever here. He also said to make sure it's cleaned up, whatever that means, sooner than later."
Another man, who looked to be a little older and more hardened than the rest sat up in his chair and asked, "What kind of delivery?"
She shook her head. "The guy didn't say. He said you guys would know it when you saw it." She smiled then and said, "The infirmary has been restocked so since I'm not needed, I'll be heading out."
She walked away then and stopped. She swung around and looked at each man's face before adding, "Oh, I almost forgot. He said to 'look for the white rabbit.’" She laughed then and shrugged her shoulders. "I guess that's some kind of biker code thing that you're supposed to know."
She climbed into her car and drove away satisfied that she’d pulled off the perfect crime. The derelicts that she’d spoken to would certainly rape, torture and murder Anthony’s underage Barbie doll. Christy would never have the chance to tell Anthony about Veronique’s visit to his house. And if the men were leaving the camp tonight like she'd heard one mention, Anthony would never know what became of his precious Christy. Envisioning the porcelain-skinned blonde with the big blue eyes fueled Veronique’s rage. Her knuckles whitened on the steering wheel as she tried to tamp down her rage.