by Sonia Parin
He had to get the rest of the gold.
Abby watched and waited for him to come to his senses. Surely, she thought, he had to realize the job would take too long. He simply didn’t have the right tools. She considered saying something but she knew she’d reached a dangerous point. Anything she said or did might trigger a fatal response from him.
A bead of perspiration trickled down his forehead. Wiping his hand across it, he swung around. She assumed he was searching for something to put his treasure in.
“Have you considered striking a deal with me?” it occurred to ask.
He chortled. “You?”
She tilted her head and counted to ten. “Yes, why not? I’m as greedy as the next person.” She hoped the idea of making a deal would buy her an extra minute. “I mean, look at me, I used to work for a large newspaper in Seattle and here I am working in the back of beyond for a small-town newspaper. How much do you think that pays? Not much. As for the backward step I’ve taken in my career, well… it’ll take a miracle to get my life back on track. How much is one of those gold bars worth?”
To her surprise, he actually appeared to think about it.
“More than thirty thousand,” he said.
“Wow.” She made a point of counting the bars. There were about twenty. It didn’t take a mathematical genius to figure out she was looking at over half a million dollar’s worth of gold.
Abby glanced over at the other horses. She knew he wouldn’t walk away from it all.
His eyes had glazed over now. The man had been bitten by the gold rush.
“You could use one of the trunks,” Abby suggested. She gazed out the window and tried to figure out how long she’d been standing there. Twenty minutes? Faith had to be wondering about her. And Joshua too. She tried to remember if she’d sent him a text message. If he tried to contact her and couldn’t get through, he’d know something had happened…
“Make yourself useful,” he said. “Grab that trunk.”
Chapter Sixteen
Huffing out a breath, he said, “We need a bigger trunk. There’s bound to be more gold bars in the other horses.”
Abby wanted to tell him greed would get him thirty to life, but then she remembered playing along and making herself useful had been about distracting him. If she bought herself enough time, someone would come to her rescue. Who could blame her for pretending to succumb to a bout of Stockholm Syndrome. While she couldn’t think of an alternative survival strategy, her mind strayed to a possible scenario in which she had to explain her compliance. What if the police charged her with aiding and abetting?
“Shouldn’t you try to load this up in your car first?” she asked.
He wiped his brow. The sheen of perspiration faded and then reappeared. His breathing came in rapid bursts. She’d bet anything his heartbeat was racing. Either he’d realized he might run out of time and luck or he’d been struck by a bout of gold fever.
She heard him mutter something under his breath but couldn’t make it out. His eyes, however, had the look of a half-crazed man.
“We need another trunk,” he said again. “Come on. Help me bring it out.”
With the gun still pointed at her, they trudged toward one of the stalls. Abby still kept an eye out for something useful she could grab. Although, even if she found something, she didn’t think she could risk her life or Doyle’s. In any case, she didn’t think she had it in her to go down fighting.
“Grab the other end. I’ll pull, you shove,” he said.
When they had the trunk in position by the carousel, he picked up the hammer and began working on the next horse. As the hammer came down, Abby noticed the mane on the horse shifting. At the next blow of the hammer, the horse’s mane bounced up slightly. She waited for the next blow. She hadn’t imagined it. The mane appeared to be a separate part.
It made sense. If Warren Kinsley had made an annual pilgrimage to store his gold, he would have had easy access to the horses. She would bet anything he’d had the horses custom made to include a lid of sorts.
“Eureka,” he shouted.
Abby couldn’t believe it. He had smashed his way to the treasure.
More gold bars.
“Load them up.”
“This trunk will be too heavy to lift. Maybe you should bring your car in.”
He frowned and swore under his breath. “Why didn’t you suggest that before?”
Abby looked down at his revolver. “It didn’t occur to me.” She watched him dig inside his pocket. When he drew out his car keys, she expected him to tie her up. Instead, he grabbed Doyle.
Caught by surprise, Doyle tried to scramble his way to freedom, then he went limp.
“If you make one false move, the dog gets it. Make yourself useful and fill up that trunk.”
Abby prayed Doyle wouldn’t try anything that would land him in trouble. She had to believe someone would come to her rescue. Although, at some point, maybe she needed to come to terms with her predicament.
As she bent down to pick up a gold bar, she caught a glint.
Her cell phone.
A burst of excitement sent her heart pumping hard against her chest. She held her breath and listened for the sound of a car approaching. When she didn’t hear anything, she scrambled over and grabbed her cell.
The excitement of a moment before faded. The phone looked intact but something inside it must have broken.
Thinking she didn’t want to arouse his suspicions, she put the cell back where she’d found it and resumed stacking the gold bars inside the trunk.
She had to come up with a plan. If no one came to her rescue, she’d have to bail herself out of this impossible situation. But how?
She weighed the gold bar in her hand. It felt heavy enough to cause some serious damage, Abby thought. But he had Doyle… If anything happened to him, she’d never forgive herself.
Setting the gold bar inside the trunk, she straightened. Her gaze went to the hammer. She pictured him opening the stable doors. What if she caught him by surprise? Could she actually bring herself to wield the hammer? What if she caused serious damage? Yes, he’d threatened Doyle but if she killed him, she’d have to live with the consequences. The police would see it as self-defense but she’d have to live with the knowledge and experience for the rest of her life.
Did she have it in her? In theory, she knew she’d do anything to get herself and Doyle to safety…
She tested the hammer’s weight in her hand. What if she tried and failed? Would she make the situation worse?
“Come on, Abby. You’re a smart girl. Think.” She needed to stop hoping someone would come to her rescue and take matters into her own hands.
Hearing the crunch of tires, she tensed. The idea of making a run for it thumped in her mind. No, she couldn’t leave Doyle.
If she tried to surprise the killer, she’d at least have a fifty-fifty chance.
Abby was about to jump off the carousel and rush toward the door to position herself when a movement caught her attention. She stopped in mid stride and looked toward the window.
A second later, she saw Joshua peering in. When he saw her, he put his finger to his lips and then made a circling motion.
They had the place surrounded?
Abby wanted to weep.
She held her breath. Time seemed to stop. What if something went wrong? She’d seen these types of scenarios in so many TV shows. Something always went wrong.
When she heard the car stop outside the stables she pressed her hands to her cheeks. Moments later, pandemonium broke out with an explosion of shouts. Hearing Doyle’s bark, she rushed to a window.
Several police officers had their revolvers aimed toward the car. To her relief, the killer emerged with his hands up in the air. A second later, Doyle leaped out of the car and ran toward the stable doors.
“Are you all right?” Joshua asked.
Abby hugged Doyle against her and nodded. “Lawrence McAvoy seemed so nice.”
�
�Greed doesn’t discriminate.” Joshua stepped aside to let an officer through. The police had called in emergency services and were now using their chainsaws to cut through the rest of the horses. “Hang on. Isn’t he responsible for giving you two extra-large cups of Joyce’s coffee and sending you on a tailspin?”
“As I said, he seemed to be so nice. He came through in my hour of need.”
Joshua held out a piece of paper.
“What’s this?”
“We found it wrapped around a gold bar. It’s addressed to Sam Peters. This confirms the relationship with Warren Kinsley. They were half-brothers.”
Abby looked at the date on the note. “Warren Kinsley must have made another pilgrimage to the house before he died.”
Joshua agreed. “Probably soon after the argument Frankie Short said she witnessed.”
Abby read the note. Apparently, Sam Peters had spent years looking for his half-brother. He’d worked for the circus for a number of years, but he’d only told Warren about their relationship shortly before their argument. Since Sam had managed to track him down, Warren had trusted him to make his way to the house and eventually find Kinsley. Hence the gold bars set aside for him.
Abby handed back the note and watched the police car holding Lawrence McAvoy pull away. It could have ended so differently…
“Are you ready to give a statement now or do you need more time?” Joshua asked.
“We’ll do it now while it’s still fresh in my mind but give me a minute. I’m still savoring my freedom.” Abby shivered. “Out of curiosity, what would have happened if Lawrence had driven away with me?”
“Are you asking if you would have been charged as an accomplice?”
Abby nodded.
Joshua brushed a hand across his chin. “That would have been an interesting situation. Would you have crossed over to the dark side just to stay alive?”
Abby groaned under her breath. “Well…you really had to be there. I actually suggested striking a deal. The man had a revolver pointed at me and Doyle.” She tucked his little head under her chin. “I think I should start looking around for self-defense classes. I managed to talk my way out of being killed on the spot but I’d like to have a back-up plan.” Abby scooped in a breath and scratched Doyle under the chin. “What made you come to the house?”
“Faith.” Joshua laughed under his breath. “She called me a second after she spoke with you. I’ve never heard her bark out an order before. She said you didn’t sound like your usual self and insisted you were in trouble.”
“In other words, I owe her my life.” Abby tried to set Doyle down but he only scrambled back into her arms. “Okay. Let’s get the statement out of the way.” Half an hour later, she sighed. “That sounds like a tall tale. I almost don’t believe it myself.”
Hearing the sound of a horn blaring, they both looked up.
“Here’s Faith.” A police officer had stopped her and appeared to be ready to enforce the law. “I think you need to let her through. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes if you don’t.”
At a signal from Joshua, the police officer waved Faith through. She jumped out of the car and raced toward Abby.
“You’re alive. Please tell me you’re alive.”
Abby laughed. “Yes, I am.”
Faith hugged her. “Oh, yes. You’re alive. I thought you might have been a ghost. Not that I’ve ever seen one. Come on. I’m taking you home and you can tell me all about your ordeal on the drive back.”
Epilogue
“Sam Peters? my uncle? why didn’t he tell me?” Kinsley sprung to her feet and, looking undecided, she swung around on the spot. “It actually explains a great deal. He had this way of looking at me… You know, with fondness.”
Abby eased a breath out. The words had spilled out unchecked. She still felt shaken by her recent experience and she figured it would take her a while to put it all behind her. She’d told Joshua the story from beginning to end. Then, she’d spent the drive back to town telling Faith. When she’d arrived at the pub, the Faydon brothers had cornered her and, she had once again, related her experience. She’d tried to give them a shorter version, but Faith had interjected, filling in a few gaps. “You might want conclusive proof. Perhaps you could organize DNA testing.” Abby hoped Kinsley would connect the rest of the dots. She didn’t want to be the one to break it to her.
Taking a hard swallow, Abby shifted. “Maybe he thought if he told you, you’d question your heritage and… find out… I don’t know… other things.”
Kinsley dug her fingers through her hair. “Other things?”
“Family secrets. We all have them.” Abby leaned forward and, taking a deep swallow, pushed the words out. “Sam and Warren Kinsley were related.”
“Oh, I see.” Kinsley edged toward the couch and sat down. “Yes… I think I know where you’re going with that.” Looking heavenward, Kinsley laughed.
Faith leaned in and whispered, “I think this is all too much for her.”
Sighing, Kinsley clasped her hands together. “My mother had a fling. Then she met my dad. They married within a couple of months. I guess that’s when she found out she was pregnant.”
“You knew?” Abby asked.
Kinsley nodded. “I never gave it any thought. As far as I was concerned, my dad was… well, he was my dad. Mom told me about it when I turned twenty-one but I never asked her about my biological father. It’s one of my quirks. I just prefer to go with the flow. Nevertheless, she told me it had been a fling. She’d been love-struck but then she’d woken up to the reality that it just wouldn’t work out between them.” She gave a pensive nod. “I guess it makes sense. Warren Kinsley lived and breathed the circus and my mom liked her creature comforts and her garden. Before she met my dad, she thought she would remain a spinster. Perhaps that’s what drove her to have a fling.”
Faith nudged Abby and prompted her to say something.
“Are you all right?” Abby asked. “I mean, how do feel about it all?”
Kinsley shifted and tucked her hair. “I’ll need time to process it all but I don’t feel I’ve been denied anything. They made their choices. I still had a happy life. I guess I can never know what went through Warren Kinsley’s mind or my mother’s, and there’s really no point in thinking about it.”
“That’s a healthy outlook.” Abby only wished others would be as forgiving and understanding. Joyce Breeland would want answers soon. Now that the killer had been taken into custody, Abby didn’t have any excuse. “I guess your money worries are over. Have you thought about what you’ll do?”
“With that huge house?” Kinsley shrugged. “I like Faith’s ideas. She came up with a few more. There are disadvantaged kids who’ve never been on vacation. I’ll get some professional advice and see what we can come up with. The gold can go toward restoring the house but I’ll need some sort of income to keep it running. Maybe I can set myself up as a hotel for the skiing season and have a couple of weeks just for kids. We’ll work something out. It sounds as though I’ll have to restore the carousel again. It might be nice to have it around for the kids.”
“That’ll keep you busy. What about your photography? You’ll be run off your feet and won’t have any time to pursue your extracurricular activities. You might not even have time to… come into town.”
“I can hire staff now.”
“Abby is being diplomatic,” Faith chirped. “She wants to know if you’ll still have time to write your blog.”
Kinsley laughed. “You know about the blog?”
Faith inhaled the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans. “I never thought I’d say this. I’m jealous. You have the best coffee in the world on tap and you only need to come down the stairs for it.”
“What will it be?” Frankie asked.
Faith straightened. “After all the excitement we’ve had, I’m kicking back and relaxing today. What do you recommend?”
The bar door opened and, instead of answering, Frankie looked over t
heir shoulders.
“My sixth sense tells me I shouldn’t turn around,” Abby murmured.
Faith swung around. “Really? You’re missing out on a golden moment. You need to see Joyce’s expression. It’s a once in a lifetime experience. Her mouth is gaping open, her eyes are wide. Wait… wait. I think she’s about to huff out a breath and stomp toward us.”
Abby wanted to lower her head and stoop her shoulders. Instead, she picked up her coffee and took a leisurely sip. Yes, she’d play the cool, calm and collected card, even if it killed her. Or, got her banned from Joyce’s Café for life.
“So, the rumors are true,” Joyce said. “There’s a new player in town. I don’t see a menu.”
Faith grinned. “Frankie doesn’t need one. Just tell her what you need and she’ll make you a cup of coffee.”
Joyce lifted her chin. “I guess I need to be challenged. Give it your best shot.”
Frankie nodded. “Coming right up.”
Abby sipped her coffee and hummed. This could go either way. She hoped their coffee privileges would be fully restored. It would be a pity to miss out going to Joyce’s Café. Setting her cup down, she said, “I struck a deal with the Eden Bloggess. She’s retiring. So, you won’t be hearing from her anymore.”
Joyce lifted her chin. “I see.”
“I’m afraid she can’t print a retraction. Her blog is going off-line,” Abby added.
After a few seconds, Joyce shrugged. “Well, I might have overreacted.”
Wow. Abby’s eyes widened. She never thought she’d live to see the day when Joyce Breeland backed down.
Frankie set a cup down in front of Joyce and stepped back.
Moment of truth, Abby thought and watched Joyce as she inhaled the aroma of coffee. She was about to take a sip when she turned to Abby.
“Are you at least going to give me a hint about the Eden Bloggess’ identity?”
Abby shook her head. “Sorry, that was part of the deal. She wishes to remain anonymous.”
“She?”
