I was aware that this venture was risky. It wouldn’t help my case if I were caught returning to the scene of the crime again. As icy crystals slashed my face, I tugged the Ushanka farther down on my brow. Golova nyet, shopka nye nooshno. She who has no head needs no hat. Golova nyet, shopka nye nooshno. Was I a fool? Was this an act of pure recklessness?
Thank God the Dune Club lot had been empty. Snow could bring out hunters. It gave them an advantage by concealing their sounds and smells from prey. Grace and I often saw men in camouflage outfits on our winter walks before the gruesome hunting accident. We’d watch men heading off the trail in pairs, or alone, toting medieval-looking crossbows on their shoulders. But this freak snowstorm must’ve sent the huntsmen out to shovel their driveways or buy rock salt, like Mac. The parking lot was deserted. The only trespasser in these woods was yours truly.
I tramped on, wiping the snow from my cheeks and remembering Mac’s advice to “think positive.” Was it so different from Helene’s edict to “manifest?” If Helene could manifest, why couldn’t I? I’d manifest the sale of the sketchbook and the arrest of Tobias. I’d manifest a big celebration with a triple feature of Russian movies for Aunt Lada and her friends. Fiddler on the Roof, Anna Karenina, Reds. Why not throw in a buffet of blinis, borscht and stuffed cabbage—Lada’s favorites? In fact, I’d manifest it every year with The Lada Levervitch Annual Russian Film Festival.
In spite of my grim circumstances, I was trying to be optimistic. I really was. But as I threaded my way deeper into the silent woods, my gut began twisting with anxiety again. It was a certainty: I’d be spending that night in jail, and not a cushy Martha Stewart jail, either. What if I had one of my sleepwalking incidents in prison? I could almost hear my cellmate jeer: “Yo, Guard! There’s a fuckin’ zombie freak in here!” If she didn’t misinterpret my moves and beat me senseless first.
I tried to shift my focus to the immaculate snowy landscape—white earth, white trees and white air. Pristine and beautiful on the surface. But all I could think about was what the white concealed. Mold and rot and insects. A dark and twisted world. A sense of menace increased with every step I took.
As I rounded a curve on the trail, the blind came into view at the bottom of the incline—a gingerbread house trimmed with white frosting. I approached slowly to avoid slipping on the icy trail and finally reached the door. It resisted when I pushed. I shouldered it. Pushed again. Nothing worked until I finally stepped back and kicked, La Femme Nikita–style. The smack of my boot cracked like a gunshot in the quiet woods.
Inside, snow blew through the open wall. Drifts covered the floor. The army blanket was still folded neatly on the bench, and I used its scratchy fabric to wipe my face. I assumed I’d be able to assess the situation from the blind, but a thick curtain of falling snow obscured Pequod Point. Only the glow of house lights came through, nothing more. It had been impossible to retrieve Lada’s opera glasses from my car with Crawley watching, and I wasn’t sure they would have helped. I’d just have to head in the direction of the lights and hope Abbas was alone.
“Protect me, Champ. Bring me luck,” I murmured, touching Ben’s knife in my pocket before I turned and walked out the blind’s door. I had brought it with me to deliver to Ben tonight in case I didn’t have time to stop at the Coop after returning Grace’s car.
The seagrasses along the edge of the inlet had transformed into giant marshmallow mounds, and they kept me hidden as I followed the shoreline. My skin stung from the cold, but I soldiered on. In a few minutes, I stopped and peered over the snowy humps. The edge of the lawn was right there. Pequod Point was no more than fifteen yards further on, all lit up and sparkling with ice crystals—a Snow Queen’s palace in a fairy tale.
Through the glass wall I saw the bright, open-plan living room and kitchen. No one was visible inside. Abbas’s dark green BMW, coated in white, was parked in the driveway near the path that led to Hugh’s studio. But another snow-covered car sat in front of the garage—a red Ford sedan with a Dollar Rental sticker still detectable on its license plate. Shit. Someone else besides Abbas was there. Who?
His silhouette appeared in the hallway off the living room before Tobias walked into the light. What? I thought Tobias was supposed to be on a plane back to Virginia. The snow. His flight must’ve been canceled because of the snow. As I stood freezing and trying to figure out my next move, I chastised myself: Why hadn’t I called the cheapest car-rental company first? I should’ve known Tobias was a Dollar man.
Tobias entered the kitchen area, stopped at the marble-topped island and faced in my direction as he talked on a cell phone. I was still hidden by the wall of grass, but there was no way to reach Hugh’s studio without being seen crossing the lawn. My watch said 3:39. Still more than an hour before dark. I wrapped my arms around my chest and stuck my hands in my armpits for warmth. There was no help for my face or my toes. I began to march in place to ward off frostbite.
“Come on, you bastard. Leave. Or at least go into another room,” I said aloud.
It seemed like an eternity before Tobias finished his call and changed his position. He began hunting through the kitchen cabinets, but he was still too close to the windows for me to chance a move. He found a bottle of liquor, opened it and took a swig. Then another. What a hypocrite. How smugly he’d preached against his brother’s vices just a few hours before. He went to the refrigerator next and rummaged around. Then he removed . . . what was that? A log of salami. No more denying his appetites.
What the hell was he doing now? Trying to bite the plastic shrink-wrap off the salami with his teeth. He couldn’t be that drunk yet.
“Can’t you be bothered to get a knife, Tobias? It’s right there in the island’s center drawer.”
The chill that went through me didn’t come from the frigid air. There were at least a dozen drawers in that kitchen. How had I known which of them held the knives? I must’ve seen Hugh or Helene take a knife out when I came here to spy. I tried to remember. Yes, that was it. Helene went into the kitchen for wine. She must’ve . . . No. Had I seen her take a knife from the drawer or not?
Or did I search for a knife after I’d shot the two of them, so I could gouge Hugh’s painting and kill them twice?
Abruptly, a whooshing noise sounded in the treetops. Within seconds, it became a roar. A fierce wind swept in and sent snow spiraling upward and then plunging back down. It began to blow in every direction at once, surrounding me in icy chaos. I shielded my eyes and squinted toward the house; I could barely make out Tobias through the white squall, but it looked like his back was finally turned. I prayed I was right. Ready. Set.
Now.
“My God, Nora. What are you doing here, dear girl? You must be frozen!”
Incredulous, Abbas ushered me into the studio. My face burned like an acid peel when my skin hit the warmth. I checked outside as he closed the door. All clear. I’d made it past Tobias undetected.