The Dark at the End

The Dark at the End Page 33

Dawn checked her gas gauge. Getting low. She'd never guessed she'd be driving all the way out to Long Island's South Fork. But no way she could stop. She'd lose Dr. Heinze and never find him again.

If she'd had unlimited funds she could have bugged his car - was "bugged" the right word? - with some sort of transmitter that would have allowed her to follow him on a GPS map.

She wondered if he was at all concerned about being followed. He didn't seem to be. No big deal on the LIE, but here on the narrower, slower Montauk Highway, he might notice the same Volvo behind him mile after mile. So she kept a car or two between them.

She followed him through all the Hamptons - West-, South-, Bridge-, and East - and Amagansett as well. She was wondering if he was going all the way to Montauk Point when his left blinker started flashing and he turned off at someplace called Nuckateague. She started to follow him into the hairpin turn but stopped herself. No. Too, too obvious. She had to be totally careful now because hers was the only other car in sight.

It killed her to keep driving but she did. But only for an eighth of a mile or so, then she made a U-turn and raced back. Her heart thumped out a dance beat. She'd never heard of Nuckateague and had no idea how big it was. Couldn't be too big because the South Fork was so narrow out here, but Dr. Heinze could be checking on a summer place he owned and have his car garaged before Dawn caught up to him. Then what?

She turned off at the Nuckateague sign and raced up a narrow blacktop called Nuckateague Drive. She slowed as she came to a street that ran off to the left - Bayberry Drive. Nothing moving there. She pushed on and stopped when her street ended at a T intersection with Dune Drive. She looked right and left - again nothing moving in either direction. She tossed a mental coin and turned right.

Her tension increased as she ran the length of the waterfront homes with no sign of a silver Lexus. She reached the east end of the road and raced back to the intersection. Only a few houses on the west end of Dune Drive, one of them dominating the waterfront with its own lagoon cut in from the bay. The houses she'd seen so far were just that - houses. This was totally a mansion.

She drove past it and spotted a silver Lexus with MD plates, parked near the lagoon by what was either a garage or boathouse.

Gotcha.

Either pediatric surgery was a very lucrative specialty or Dr. Heinze had some rich friends or relatives.

Or - hope-hope-hope - he was making a house call.

Dawn kept moving, then made a quick left into the driveway of a house two lots west and across the street. She twisted in her seat and checked out the mansion. She had a clear view of the front door, the lagoon dock, and the Lexus from here. Perfect.

Now ... if she could only stay here.

She checked out the house before her: a two-story saltbox clad in weathered cedar shakes. It looked empty.

She left her car running and stepped to the front door where she rang the bell and waited. If someone answered, she'd ask if they knew where so-and-so lived.

No answer, so she rang again.

Still no answer.

Cool.

She tightened her coat around her against the buffeting wind off the bay - they kept talking about a big storm coming - and checked out the neighbors. Only half a dozen houses down here on the west end of the street, and they all looked deserted. The Lexus was the only car in sight.

No surprise. Some of these were summer homes, some were year round. But if you could afford to live out here, you probably spent the winter months someplace warm. Like Key Biscayne or Naples, or the Keys.

She returned to her car, pulled out, then backed in close to the garage so she was half hidden but still had a view. She turned off her engine - save that gas - and settled down to watch.

Not ten minutes passed before she saw movement around the far side of the house.

A boat was bobbing down the lagoon toward the dock, moving backward. A small white cabin cruiser, twenty-five feet long, with a couple of fishing rods poking up from the rear and a lone man at the helm. As it eased against the dock, the driver - captain? pilot? - hopped out and grabbed the lines. A big man, bundled up and wearing a slicker against the cold and wet. Something familiar about him ...

After he'd tied the lines, he went to a compartment by the transom and pulled out a string of four flat fish. He'd had his head down or turned away since he arrived, but now he raised it. He wore a satisfied grin on a face Dawn knew all too well.

"Oh ... my ... God!" she said aloud.

Her mouth went dry as her heart doubled its rate.

Georges ... Mr. Osala's driver and general gofer.

If he was here, and Dr. Heinze was here, that could only mean her baby was here too. Probably inside with that bitch Gilda. And maybe Mr. Osala as well.

What should she do? What could she do?

She fumbled for her phone. Call Weezy. No, call Jack. He'll know what to do.