All Choked Up

No matter how much you cry and plead, there’s no white knight. When it comes down to saving your life, no one does it like you do.

7:00 a.m.

I’m lying here thinking about all the things that happened in the past 24 hours and every time I take a breath I exhale tears of fright and exhaustion. I’ve been shaking all night and haven’t really slept at all. Those fits of sleep that take me are filled with the most horrid, grotesque dreams I have ever had.

It took more than an hour to transfer the video to my computer and upload it to a secure website. I tried to call Tom, but there was no answer on his phone. If he’s on stake-out, he probably had the sound and vibration turned off on his cell. I sent him a text message with the password to the website and a link, then sent another saying “Evidence of Georgia McFearin’s murder is on her TIVO.

I needed to get out of the house before people—like my landlady—started waking up and looking to see if I was still locked in the office. I packed my computer bag and grabbed the key to the Mercedes in the garage. That was when I heard the front door open.

People shouldn’t just be opening my front door and walking in at 5:00 in the morning. I sent another text message, this time to both Tom and Cinnamon. All I could tap out was “SOS. At the house. Bring help.” I hoped they’d get the message before it was too late, but I couldn’t risk it. I needed to get out before whoever it was came further into the house. I opened the office door a crack. I could hear a noise in the living room, so I slipped out and turned toward the kitchen door. I only took a step when the whack on the back of my head made me crumple to the floor.

I woke up with a tightness in my throat. Part of it was panic. I’d seen how Georgia died, and the breeze on my bare skin told me the ceiling fan was on. The rope was already tightening on my neck. I grabbed and clawed enough space between the silky cord and my throat to slip a hand in, but it was already too tight to pull up over my head. And there in the doorway to the dining room I could see the three of them—Deonn, Rick, and Susan.

“That’s a fine mess you’re in, Riley Finn,” Rick said. You could hear the contempt dripping in his voice. I heard a click and the fan ground to a halt.

“You’re mistaken,” I said. “I’m Peg…” I suddenly realized that the twisting rope wasn’t my only problem. I was stark naked without even a wig. You could clearly see where my applied older skin met my natural younger skin. I was completely unmasked.

“I’m a PI,” Deonn said. “I can find out who anyone is.”

“Especially when he sees you in the dark,” Rick said. “Your disguise might throw anyone off who can see you, but your voice sounds too familiar when you can’t distract a person’s eyes.”

“I called the little cabin owner on Whidbey Island. They were only too happy to confirm that my daughter and her boyfriend got there safely. No 50 year old woman has menstrual cramps like you were having.”

“No more talk,” Rick said. I could hear sirens in the distance, but I couldn’t tell if they were coming. Please, Tom, get here now, I thought. “Finish it. We’ve got to get out of here.” The switch on the fan clicked and I could feel the rope tightening. The sirens were definitely getting closer.

“Thank you for my car key,” Deonn said. The three headed out through the kitchen. I had a bit of satisfaction seeing that Deonn was limping on the leg I kicked out from under him Thursday night.

My one hand wedged between the rope and my neck wasn’t going to save my life. The rope was already cutting off the circulation on the other side and was biting into the back of my hand pressing it against my windpipe. I could feel my tongue swelling. I thrashed around trying to reach the wall switch, but the rope was too short for that. I looked frantically for anything that could save me. I had a sudden vision of Georgia throwing the key to the Mercedes into a glass of champagne. What was she trying to do besides ruin Deonn’s chances of getting away? The glass of water I was drinking while watching the recordings last night was sitting, half full, on the coffee table. It was my only chance. I kicked it toward the television and watched it splash all over the place, including a precious few drops that fell into the power strip. There was a loud pop and the lights went out. The fan stopped moving. I started moving. Spinning in the direction the fan had been moving, loosening the tightness of the rope. I had to keep spinning and spinning. If I passed out, the rope was still short enough to hang me. I heard the squeal of tires. Saw the flashing lights. Just kept spinning and spinning until the rope loosened enough that I could breath. I was fighting to get my breath back when the front door crashed in.

“Knife!” I heard the command, but couldn’t see. I felt someone pulling on the rope and for a moment felt panic that they were tightening it, but in a second it fell away completely. I pointed with my free hand, still unwilling to move the left hand from protecting my throat.

“Out the back. Car in garage,” I croaked. I saw two uniforms head for the kitchen, then a deafening explosion rocked the house from the back. I was being carried, lifted by an amazing hunk of a man onto the sofa.

“Blankets!” he yelled. His coat was already flung over my naked body. Tears began to stream down my cheeks. This was not how I wanted him to see me naked for the first time. I could hear the crackling of police radios and more sirens. Ambulance and fire rescue. Tom continued to yell terse commands while never leaving my side. “TIVO! Get every computer in this house unplugged and into the van.” I felt the warmth of blankets being placed over me. I looked up at Tom from under the protective layers and raised my hand from my throat to his cheek.

“A minute sooner and you could have saved my life,” I croaked. I don’t know why I said that. I wanted so much for him to rescue me, but I’d already cut the power and loosened the rope before he got there. If I’d waited for him, I’d be dead.

“Deb!” I heard the shriek nearby.

“Medics, here!” That had to be Jordan. Everybody arrives just too late. But I was being loaded onto a stretcher and jostled out the door. I could still hear Tom and Jordan going at each other—Tom wanting to know what Jordan was doing there and why Cinnamon was calling me Deb. Jordan trying to commandeer the removal of the computers. Firemen were rushing through the front ordering everyone out. The doors slammed on the Ambulance, mercifully shutting everything else out. I felt a soft hand stroking my head and realized Cinnamon had jumped in the ambulance with me.

“It’s okay now, sugar,” she soothed. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back to the house? I’d have been here with me.”

“Your day off,” I croaked. My voice might never be the same. I was sure my larnyx was damaged. An oxygen mask was pushed over my face. How much time had elapsed? I couldn’t tell. Minutes? Maybe seconds. I slipped into unconsciousness and didn’t know when we got to the emergency room.”

I woke up in a hospital bed. The first thing I noticed was the silence. Either I wasn’t in critical enough condition to need a heart monitor on me, or I was dead and it was silent. I chose to believe the former. Everything hurt, especially my throat and my hand. I raised it up to see, but it was covered with a bandage.

The movement brought Cinnamon to the side of my bed.

“You had me worried for a while, sugar,” she said. She stroked my cheek and I realized I could feel hair there. She’d found a wig and put it on me. I also realized that my face was clean. I could feel the absence of the latex as much as I could feel its presence when I wore it. “You really had people confused when you showed up. The ambulance guys said you were Peg Chester, but I figured it was better to have you here in the hospital under your real name, so I overruled them. I had to get Jordan to call in to verify your identity. I ran out to get your wallet and a wig. Sorry I couldn’t find the brown one. You’re a blonde again. It suits you better.” I was crying again.

“Tom saw me like that,” I sobbed.

“Yeah, but he didn’t recognize you,” Cinnamon laughed. “Some guys just never really look at a woman, you know? He was still arguing with Jordan about it yesterday afternoon.” I couldn’t imagine him not looking at a bald, naked freak with a rope around her neck, but I guess there was a lot going on.

That’s when Jordan came in.

“Hey, you’re looking better,” he said. “Nice do.”

“Thank Cinnamon,” I said.

“The stuff you sent me was enough to put Rick and Susan away for life,” Jordan said. “It’s too bad we’ll never get to use it.” I was confused.

“Why not?” I asked.

“They’re all three dead,” Jordan said. “Don’t you remember the big boom?” I did remember it, but I hadn’t yet processed what it was. “There was a leak in the gasoline tank of the Mercedes from what forensics has been able to piece together so far. It was a pretty hot fire when it exploded. Must have happened as soon as he started the car. They pulled three bodies out.”

“So that’s how she planned to do it,” I said. If I’d escaped the direction I planned with the Mercedes key in my hand, I’d have been the one who was toast.

“Planned to do what?” Jordan asked.

“I reviewed all the recordings that Georgia was using to blackmail everyone,” I said. “She was adamant that she had a permanent solution to getting Rick and Deonn out of the way. But the blackmail solution that she used when she confronted them seemed weak. If they were given enough time, I could tell they’d figure it out and come back at her with a vengeance. Maybe that’s why they were confident enough to turn on her when she tried her ploy. They knew she couldn’t expose them without incriminating herself. But she offered the car to Deonn as a parting gift. He couldn’t use it because the electronic key got dropped in a glass of champagne. If he had, the car would have exploded that night. She expected Rick and Deonn to leave together. Instant permanent solution.”

“It might have worked,” Jordan agreed. “It certainly did when they decided to escape after stringing you up. We’re all glad you are safe.” They stood there in silence for a moment. Jordan cleared his throat. “I don’t think we’ll be able to keep your identity and aliases a secret from Tom, though,” he said. “You won’t have to testify since there is no one to prosecute, but Peg Chester can’t just disappear and suddenly have Deb Riley show up with her wounds.”

“Please,” I said. “If it’s possible, let me talk to him about it. He needs to know from me that I haven’t been honest with him.”

“I’ll tell him you want to see him.”

Jordan gave Cinnamon a quick kiss and left. She turned to me and I’d swear she was blushing. It wasn’t like I didn’t know.

“You are so lucky I’m not the jealous type,” I said.

“I’m just lucky. Period,” Cinnamon said. “I’m lucky this plucky, hot little Debbie walked into my life a couple of months ago. And brought her nice older partner along for the ride, and introduced me to a Fed who happened to be too much in awe of her to ever make a move, but seems to think her less threatening assistant is an okay substitute.”

“I don’t think you’re subbing for anyone,” I said. I started to laugh, but my throat burned so much that tears started down my cheeks again. Cinnamon offered me a sip of water.

“Maizie misses you,” she said, changing the subject. “We should get you discharged from here so you can go home and be you for a while.”