by Zoe Chant
But maybe it was time to try living a different way. He didn't want to end up like Hawkins, taking orders from an evil man and telling himself he had no choice.
"You sound a lot better," Loretta said. "Sometimes talking it out helps, does it?"
"I guess it does. I never really had anyone to talk to about stuff before."
"Well," she said warmly, "now you do. It's like I told you earlier. You're family, and family helps each other out. Now get back there and have a proper conversation with your mate."
"Yes, ma'am," he said, smiling although she couldn't see him.
"And you tell me how it turns out, you hear?"
"Yes, ma'am."
He disconnected the call and stood in the sunlit field, filled with a sense of peace and ease that he hadn't had in a long time. Loretta was right, it did help to talk to someone, and she was also right that this was only a small bump on the road to happiness with Verity. They could get through it.
If I don't mess this up, that is.
He turned and began to limp back toward town.
Chapter Fourteen: Verity
After Maddox's footsteps faded and the back door of the shop closed with a very final thunk, Verity slowly and mechanically began to clean up the broken cup and the rest of their tea things.
She was still trying to process everything she'd learned about Maddox this morning. She had known there was something different about him, something unlike anyone she'd ever met. She just hadn't realized how deep it ran.
She had no interest in opening the tea shop today. She left the door locked and the sign flipped to CLOSED. Instead she took her cane and went for a walk.
The sun was warm on her shoulders and face. She'd been walking around this town all her life, and today she simply wandered, trusting in her general knowledge of local geography to keep her from getting too lost. She needed the activity to keep pace with her buzzing thoughts, bouncing around from Maddox to the problem of Ducker and back to Maddox again.
She didn't think Maddox had gone for good. At least she hoped he hadn't. Her hand kept creeping toward her phone and then jerking away; finally she turned her phone off to remove the temptation to call him. She wasn't going to beg him to come back, or even ask. He had to come back on his own, or else he wasn't the man she thought he was.
Prove to me that you're a better man than your past makes you, Maddox. Come back to me so we can deal with this together.
In the meantime, she didn't plan to just sit around waiting for him to show up. She wondered if it was possible there was a way around Ducker that they hadn't found yet. Could something in the city's bylaws or property records provide a possible new avenue of attack? She hadn't even thought of looking there for a loophole that would enable them to escape Ducker's attempted land grab.
"Excuse me," she said to a set of brisk footsteps tapping her way. "Could you direct me to the city records office, please?"
One brief conversation later, she'd walked a block in the indicated direction and pushed open a door with a little bell that tinkled. She had gone in here occasionally in the course of running her own business, usually to file paperwork associated with her business.
"I need to do a records search. Can you do text to speech on these computers?" she asked.
The secretary showed her how to set it up and then left her alone. It wasn't nearly as nice a setup as the one she had at home; the computer droned at her in a mechanical voice, and she especially missed her Braille display, which would have allowed her to skim documents. Here she was forced to listen to the computer droning on and on, unable to skip ahead because she was afraid of missing something important. She didn't even know what she was looking for, just that there had to be something.
And, to her surprise, she found it.
She found it in a seemingly endless series of clauses and subclauses in the town charter. As the computer droned about water rights and acreage and boundaries, she tried to force her mind not to wander. And then suddenly her thoughts sharpened to a laser focus. Had she really just heard what she thought she heard? She ran it back and listened again.
Then she called the secretary and asked if she could get these pages printed. A few minutes later, she was out on the sidewalk, waiting for a taxi.
***
Ducker's office was located in a big office building in the county seat. She'd been there once before when he had invited her to talk about selling her shop, back when she'd still believed that if she refused to sell, he would politely take no for an answer and look elsewhere.
On the taxi ride, she collected her thoughts. The paper rustled in her hand. It might be a bit of a long shot, but it was a better chance than anything she'd found so far.
The taxi let her out on the sidewalk in front of Ducker's office tower. She patted down her hair, tucking in her braids, and wished she'd taken the time to go home and change into something more professional-looking. She was wearing the light blouse and long skirt she'd put on this morning, when she planned to do nothing more than stick around the shop all day. Oh well; the important thing was the information she carried with her, and she'd learned in her life that confidence went a long way toward making up for other shortcomings. Reminding herself that right was on her side—legally and morally—she strode into the office.
Ducker's administrative assistant was a lot less helpful than the record-office secretary. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I can't let you in without an appointment."
"Then make an appointment for me."
There was a tapping of keys. "How does next week sound?"
"Today," Verity said.
"I'm sorry. I'm afraid that's not possible."
The carpets were so soft and thick in Ducker's outer office that Verity didn't even hear the approach of footsteps until Ducker's smooth, cultured voice said, "It's all right, Cindy. I'll make a few moments for Ms. Breslin."
Verity tried not to jump. "Thank you," she said, holding her head high.
"Right this way. Have a seat. Would you like coffee?"
"Tea, if you have it," she said, and took the offered seat, then used the opportunity to try to guess at the size and shape of the space around her, based on Ducker's whisper-soft steps—even now that she was listening, she had to strain to hear them—and the clinking of the coffee things. She listened carefully for other people around her, but she didn't think there were any, unless they were being extremely quiet. They appeared to be alone in a very large office. With the door to the outer office shut, she couldn't even hear his assistant going about the usual secretarial tasks. She tried not to feel trapped.
"Coffee only, I'm afraid. Cream? Sugar?"
"Both," she said, and accepted the cup he pressed lightly into her hand, inhaling the too-bitter steam.
The faint whisper of Ducker's steps circled around to the other side of his desk. Leather creaked as he sat down. "Now, Ms. Breslin, what's your business here? Dare I to guess that you've come to revisit my earlier purchase offer?"
"No, actually." She felt for the corner of his desk and set the coffee cup on it. "I'm here to tell you that I'm not selling to you, now or ever, and this is why I don't have to." She held out her folded copy of the town charter.
Ducker actually laughed. "Now, Ms. Breslin, I'm not sure what you think you've got there—"
"I know what I've got here." She shook the piece of paper at him. "This is a copy of the original town charter and bylaws, which are still in effect. When this town was founded, the city fathers were worried about having it become a company town, like a lot of other mining towns in the West. So they wrote some bylaws into the original paperwork to prevent it. No single owner, private or corporate, can own more than ten percent of the property or businesses within the town limits. I think you're already well over that limit, aren't you?"
There was a silence. Then she felt the piece of paper snatched out of her hand. "That's ridiculous," Ducker said, and the paper rustled as he unfolded it.
"Maybe, but it's also legally bindi
ng. I checked at the city records office. It's just not enforced much. Most people don't know about it. But if someone wanted to take you to court—especially if, say, a group of business owners got together and took you to court for violating the city charter—they would have a very good case. You'd have to actually get the bylaws changed, and that's a process that would take years and is entirely in the hands of the town council, most of whom don't like you very much."
The paper rattled against the edge of Ducker's desk. "This is completely absurd. An antiquated pipe dream written by a bunch of hillbillies a hundred years ago. You cannot possibly expect this to stand up in court."
"Really? That's not what the records office told me." She leaned forward, reveling in the feeling of power and strength. "The reason why I came here rather than going straight to a lawyer is because I wanted to give you a chance to quietly, off the books, return some of the property that you've taken from this town's honest businesspeople. If you don't, we will take you to court, and we will win. On top of that, your name will be dragged through the papers. You'll be known far and wide as the guy who tried to destroy a small-town Main Street and instead got taken to the cleaners by a bunch of, as you put it, hillbillies."
There was a tearing sound.
"Oh, very mature," Verity said. "You know that's a copy, right? The real charter is on file not just in the city records office but also with the county and in their computerized system. You can't destroy it."
"I don't need to do that," Ducker said. The paper crumpled and she heard it fall into a wastebasket. "I just need to make sure you don't get a chance to talk to anyone about it."
An icy chill snaked down her spine. "It's a matter of public record."
"Yes, but who knew about it before you found it? And who have you told?"
All of a sudden the weakness in her plan was suddenly, blindingly obvious. "My lawyer," Verity said quickly.
"Really? I don't think you have. I think you rushed straight over here, and now you're realizing that no one knows where you are, and no one knows about your unique discovery. Ms. Breslin, you have neatly trapped yourself."
Verity's palms began to sweat. She told herself to be calm. "What are you going to do, try to kidnap me? I'll scream."
"Really? Who will hear you? I own the entire floor, and everything is very well soundproofed. I am very fond of my privacy. But," he added, as Verity drew in her breath to make good on her screaming threat and also groped her way across the desk for something to use as a weapon, "there's absolutely no need for that kind of fuss and bother. We're both adults and we can come to a reasonable arrangement, I'm sure."
"What sort of arrangement?" Verity asked. Her fingers closed over a stapler. It felt large and heavy in her palm.
There was the sound of a drawer being opened and closed, followed by soft rustling on his desktop. "You won't be able to read this, of course," Ducker said in smoothly condescending tones, "but the papers I just put in front of you are a transfer of ownership of your shop to me. It has everything except your signature." There was a small plasticky click. "I just put a pen beside it."
"And what do I get if I sign?"
"Fair compensation, as agreed upon."
She didn't for a moment believe him. He could have her sign anything. Keeping a hand curled around the stapler, she said grimly, "So you won't mind if I take these papers to my lawyer and have him review them?"
Ducker sighed. "My dear, you know you haven't got a choice about signing these, don't you? You must realize you are not negotiating from a position of strength. From your reaction earlier, I can guess that no one knows you're here, and I've heard your protector left town."
"Then you heard wrong," Verity said flatly.
"Really? I have it from several reliable witnesses that he was seen walking out to the highway to hitch a ride this morning."
Had he really? She refused to believe it. "He's ... on an errand. For me."
"Is that right?" He sounded amused and skeptical.
"Yes," Verity said, putting as much confidence in her voice as she could. "Do you really think I'd come here without telling Maddox? He knows exactly where I am, and if I don't come back safely, he'll be very upset."
"Even if this is true, what do you think he's going to do? He's only one man." Leather creaked as Ducker rose from his chair again. "You two can't fight me. Let me show you why. Come with me."
Verity flinched away as he gripped her arm. It was very different from Maddox's light, guiding touches; this was a controlling grasp that she couldn't pull away from, almost hard enough to hurt. She kept her hand firmly wrapped around the stapler, and Ducker either didn't notice or didn't care enough to make a big deal about it. He assisted her out of the chair (dragged, rather) and guided her across the room.
"If you're taking me to a window, you should realize the view won't do anything for me," Verity said with bravado she didn't feel. He wouldn't push her out a window, would he? Surely not.
Ducker chuckled. "It's not a window." His hand guided hers. "It's this. Feel it."
Nervous but curious, Verity ran her fingertips across something odd, a series of blocky shapes. Legos? she thought, baffled. She found a small street sign with her fingers, and realized it was some kind of diorama set up in the corner of his office.
"What is this?"
"This," Ducker said proudly, "is the new Silvermine Industrial Park. Once I get all your land, I'll tear down that row of unsightly shacks, and put up something bright and modern. I already have investors lined up."
"Those 'unsightly shacks' are our historic downtown."
"No one cares. Main Street is dead these days, Ms. Breslin; don't you read the papers? Oh, wait, I forgot. You can't."
"I read the paper on my computer every morning," Verity said between her teeth.
"In any case, now you can see why your delaying tactics will come to nothing in the long run." He steered her back to the desk. Her hip bumped the chair, but she defiantly remained standing. "I already have most of the necessary permits and most of the land I need, minus a few holdouts like you. You can wave all the bits of paper at me that you want, but I have enough lawyers to make those problems go away. All I need is your land."
"Which I'll never sell to you."
"Oh, you will. You definitely will, and—" He broke off, and Verity tensed at the sound of the door opening. "Finally. What took you so long?"
"Sorry, boss," Hawkins' voice said, and Verity's stomach sank down to her toes.
"It's lucky for you that she didn't come here with a weapon, if you're going to take forever to provide the security I'm paying you for," Ducker said in clipped tones. "Now then, Ms. Breslin, it's time for you to sign these papers."
"No," Verity said.
A big hand closed around hers, pressing a pen into it. Verity wasn't sure if it was Ducker or Hawkins, but she didn't really care.
She lashed out with the stapler, swinging it at the approximate region where Ducker's voice had come from. There was a thunk, a jolt she felt up her arm, and a yell of shock and anger.
Verity grabbed for her cane, leaning beside her chair where she'd left it. It was a light, collapsible cane, designed to be easy to carry rather than having any kind of weapon potential, but she swung it anyway. There was a glassy crash as she knocked something off a desk or table, and then a crack as it hit something else, followed by a violent wrench that yanked it out of her hands.
"You little bitch!" Ducker's voice was muffled, the genteel facade completely gone. "My face! You and that animal Maddox deserve each other. Dammit, Hawkins, restrain her!"
Verity dived for the door, but she was brought up short by a pair of big arms closing around her. She kicked and struggled as Hawkins pinned her arms to her sides.
"Calm down," Hawkins' voice said in her ear. His grip was surprisingly gentle, like he was trying not to hurt her.
"Yes, I suggest you do that," Ducker said behind her, approaching with a tread heavy enough that she could hear it
clearly even on the soft carpet. "You don't want us to hurt your pretty little niece, do you?"
"Bailey?" The fight went out of her as horror filled her. They had Bailey?
Newly tractable, she put up no resistance as they hustled her out of the office, not the way she'd come but down another hallway that smelled different, and into an elevator. Her phone was taken from her before she could think of calling for help.
"You don't really have Bailey, do you?" she asked as the elevator sank, and with it, her hopes. "You were lying to get me to come with you."
"It worked, didn't it." Ducker's voice still sounded thick. She hoped she'd broken his nose.
The elevator doors slid open and Verity began to scream. "Help! Help me! I'm being kidnapped!"
"Nice try," Ducker said. His voice grew more distant. "This is a private parking garage, below the street. There's no one down here but us. Bring her to the car whenever she's done having her temper tantrum, Ted."
Hawkins' hands closed on her arms again. Verity made an effort to jerk away. Hawkins leaned in close, and she shuddered, trying to pull away. But when his breath ghosted across her neck, what he whispered was, "Don't fight me. I'm trying to help you. I'll tell your boyfriend where we took you."
Verity was afraid her bafflement was written all over her face, but if so, it must have been mistaken for fear. She allowed herself to be pushed into the backseat of Ducker's enormous truck. The door slammed, and then Ducker himself got in next to her, smelling like cigars and expensive cologne. The truck's engine started with a roar.
"You know why your dull little town is called Silvermine, don't you?" Ducker asked.
"Of course I do," Verity said. "There used to be mines around here."
"Correct. Technically, there still are."
She knew that too, but didn't bother pointing it out. Most of the old-time mines had been boarded up; some were parks or tourist attractions. Bailey liked to go hiking around the nearest ones. Verity had never been, preferring to stay close to town where there weren't rattlesnakes and unexpected holes in the ground.
