Hidden Motive

by Alexander, Hannah

  There was a sharp rap on the door.

  It was Craig. “Did Jerri come in here with you two? Murph and I can’t find her.”

  * * *

  It was decided that while Murph searched for Jerri, everyone else would stay together in the family room, a place of obvious discomfort for everyone concerned, but the safest.

  Audrey distracted Bryce with a game of Scrabble while the three men eyed each other with suspicion.

  Sable stood at the window that overlooked the bridge Craig wanted to cross. The pain she felt about her grandfather’s infidelity mingled with a fear that superimposed itself over everything else.

  Was Audrey telling the truth? Sable had already jumped to one too many conclusions about Grandpa’s guilt. Should she believe he cheated on his wife because a woman—who had been a stranger two days ago—claimed an affair with him?

  But what motive would Audrey have for lying to her?

  Sable’s every nerve twitched at each sound in the room, each inflection of voice as the men awkwardly began to share questions about Jerri’s whereabouts.

  “She was going to the basement to add wood to the furnace,” Perry said. “She left the basement door open.”

  “She wasn’t there when I looked,” Craig said.

  “So you say.” Simmons tended to attempt disguising his fear with aggression.

  Sable listened for any sense of falseness as they bickered but she couldn’t help coloring their voices with her own fear. They were all trapped. The stalker had them all boxed in.

  The thing was that their stalker was also cornered and cornered animals could be dangerous.

  She desperately needed some time alone.

  * * *

  Murph could safely say that he’d been developing a much closer relationship with God in the past couple of days. He prayed with every step he took.

  The lamps still burned in the upstairs hallway so Murph didn’t need a flashlight. He didn’t want to alarm the others but he would feel better as soon as he found Jerri. She’d been nowhere in the basement. He knew she wouldn’t set foot in the cave.

  He fully expected to find her sleeping somewhere. He’d found her conked out on the sofa twice today and she’d barely stayed awake during breakfast. The woman could sleep through a tornado. In spite of the sudden danger they had found themselves in, it was possible she had come upstairs for a nap. After all, she wasn’t the one being stalked.

  He stepped to Sable’s door, knocked, opened it. Empty. Methodically, he checked the other rooms. Dillon followed him into every room.

  When Murph returned to the hallway after inspecting the final room, he noticed the attic door standing ajar. Dillon’s ears perked forward and he whined. He walked up to Murph and nosed his hand, then whined again.

  “What is it?”

  The dog led the way up the attic steps, scratched at the door, and shoved it open with his nose.

  Murph found Jerri. How he wished she’d only been sleeping.

  Chapter 26

  “Gotcha!”

  Loud laughter echoed through the room. Sable jerked around to find Bryce shaking his hands over his head in a victorious wave. “Two out of three, Audrey. You’d better start brushing up on your vocabulary.”

  Audrey pushed her chair back from the table. “I think you need to get Perry over here, you cocky little—”

  Murph rushed in through the family room door, his expression grim.

  Something was wrong.

  The room fell silent.

  “What is it?” Perry asked.

  “I found Jerri.”

  “What do you mean?” Audrey asked softly.

  “She’s upstairs in the attic.” His eyes sought Sable’s. “She’s dead.”

  Shocked silence blasted through the room. With that silence crept the specter of death—and of dread that it might suddenly have become contagious.

  Sable knew too well about that contagion.

  “When did anybody last see her?” Audrey asked.

  “I told you I saw her go downstairs to stoke the fire,” Perry said. “Murph…how did it happen?”

  “Everybody be quiet for a minute,” Murph said. “Craig, you need to put whatever chains or studded tires or whatever you can find onto that Jeep. We’ve got to get out of here. Now.”

  “And get ourselves killed in the process?” Perry exclaimed. “From what I’ve heard, that road isn’t any less dangerous now than it was an hour ago when we couldn’t even walk on it, much less drive.”

  “What killed her?” Sable asked Murph. “I need to go see—”

  Murph stopped her at the threshold. “Not yet. There’s a bullet hole in her head.”

  “A bullet!” Audrey raised her hand to her face. Her eyes closed and she swayed unsteadily. “No. This can’t be happening.”

  Sable grabbed Audrey by the arm and eased her down into the nearest chair.

  “Someone shot her?” Bryce asked. “But we didn’t hear any—”

  “I agree with Murph.” Craig looked with suspicion at each person in the room. “We need to get out of here. I’ve scrounged up some chains in the garage and three of them fit my Jeep. I’ll warn you, though, they’ll still slide on the thick ice out there. That bridge still needs chopping. I think that’ll have to be my next job.

  Audrey covered her face with her hands. “Poor Jerri.” Her shoulders shook.

  “Are you sure she’s dead?” Bryce asked Murph.

  “I’m sure,” Murph said.

  Simmons stood up from his chair. “How do we know we can trust what you say, Murph?”

  “How long has she been dead?” Bryce asked. “When did it—”

  “We’re all gonna die right here in this house,” Audrey moaned.

  “Would everybody stop it!” Murph snapped. “We’ve got to slow down and think rationally. Craig, get the chains on your Jeep.”

  “I need to chop the bridge.”

  “I can help you with both,” Murph said.

  “We all can help,” Bryce said.

  “You can’t be serious about leaving tonight,” Perry exclaimed.

  “Why do you want us to stay?” Simmons glowered at the chubby man. “What good’s it gonna do you if we all die here?”

  “That won’t happen if we can help it,” Murph said. “We’re going to get out of here.”

  * * *

  To Murph, it felt like a desecration to leave Jerri’s body lying alone in the cold attic. They had no choice. If they could get out of this place and call for help, the scene of the crime had to remain intact.

  He only prayed no one else would be injured before they could escape.

  He wasn’t a policeman, he didn’t know the correct procedure, wasn’t sure what to do next. But he doubted many people in this same situation would have plans in place.

  “Craig, I think you’re the best on ice,” he said. “We need you to take the pickax out and start on that bridge.”

  “I’ve been working on that some already,” Craig said.

  “Good. One of us will come out with some coals from the furnace.”

  “How do you know you can trust Craig?” Simmons demanded. “We let him out of our sight and he could—”

  “You and I will go with him,” Murph said.

  “Then we’ll take the coals with us as we go.”

  “What about me?” Bryce asked. “I can help.”

  “You can stay here with the others.” Simmons grabbed his jacket from a hook by the back door. “I want out of this dungeon before somebody gets us all.”

  “Right,” Craig said. “The axes are on the front porch. Find another flashlight and watch your footing. It’ll be treacherous out there tonight.”

  Craig opened the back door and stepped onto the patio. Simmons filled a bucket with ashes from the fireplace, and followed him.

  Murph leaned close to Sable, brushed her hair back, and whispered in her ear. “Get the .22 pistol you got out of the hunting closet. Take care of yourself. Remember wh
at you said to me down in the cave yesterday?”

  “I said lots of things.”

  “You said you didn't think you could stand it if anything happened to me.” He lowered his lips to hers in a brief gentle kiss. “Be careful. Don't let anything happen to you, because I honestly can't see myself without you. The moon is bright. Keep watch out the family room window and if you see anything go wrong you need to get the others out of this house.” He opened the door and stepped out into the cold stillness.

  * * *

  As soon as he disappeared into the night, Sable raced up the stairs. While she was loading the pistol she’d used so many times for target practice, she couldn’t help wondering about something Murph had asked her earlier: Would she be able to bring herself to actually shoot someone? Could she take a human life? And if not, would someone she loved die because of it?

  * * *

  The moon glared from a star-studded sky and the brightness was helpful. A cold wind blew a feathery cloud across the moon. Murph turned to gaze back at the silent house, visible through the leafless branches. For a moment he didn't see Sable watching from the door, but then the curtain lifted at the long window of the family room, and he saw her shadow. Reluctantly, he started on beside Simmons.

  Even before he reached the bridge, he could hear a familiar thunk of an axe hitting ice. Moonlight touched Craig’s dark outline as he labored at the far end of the slanted concrete.

  “Could you use some help?” Murph called.

  “Grab the pickax,” Craig said without breaking stride. “It’s chipping away pretty well. Got those ashes, Simmons?”

  “Right here,” Simmons said. Instead of carrying the bucket across the bridge, he set it down beside him, then stepped around Murph.

  “There’s a gravel pile at the end of the house where Josiah was going to put in a driveway but never got around to it,” Craig said. “We can use that if we need to for any rough spots.”

  “There aren’t going to be any rough spots for you two.”

  Murph frowned, turned, and found himself staring down a gleaming gun barrel.

  Craig’s axe grew still.

  “You shot her,” Murph said.

  Simmons smiled. “Is that really what you think?” His teeth looked wicked in the moonlight.

  Murph didn’t move, didn’t reply.

  “You two are working together, aren’t you?” Simmons said. “You and Craig. I should’ve picked up on that yesterday when you went traipsing off into the cave together. You’re covering each other.”

  Murph kept his focus on the barrel of the gun as if it were a snake ready to strike. “What are you talking about?”

  “I know what you’re up to. You think you’re going to have me all trussed up for the police. Who better to blame? The kid? Oh yeah, he’s scary. Or maybe it’s the old lady, or the fat clown who can’t even step out on the front porch without busting his face.”

  “Don’t underestimate people,” Murph said. “Where did you get the gun?”

  “That isn’t your business, is it?”

  “You carry a gun to your mother’s deathbed?”

  There was a whisper of sound behind Murph and Simmons redirected his aim. His shadowed face revealed little in the dim light of the moon. Unfortunately, his back was to the house and Murph knew that even if Sable could see them she couldn’t tell what was happening.

  “Don’t come any closer,” Simmons told Murph, “or your buddy’s going to join Jerri in the grave.”

  “What are you doing with that thing?” Craig exclaimed.

  Simmons swung toward him. As if synchronized, Murph reached for his own weapon beneath his shirt but Simmons brought his gun barrel hard against the side of Murph's head.

  He struck again and Murph sank to his knees. The night around him grew darker. Gunfire.

  Then the blackness was complete.

  Chapter 27

  “Murph’s been shot!” Sable turned from the window and raced toward the back door.

  The others followed.

  “What happened?” Audrey pulled back the curtain over the door’s central window, where they could see very little in the darkness.

  What they did see was Simmons standing over Murph. Craig lay on his side near the water’s edge.

  “Could be Simmons got both of them!” Audrey exclaimed.

  “I heard only one shot,” Sable said.

  “You know what this means, don’t you?” Perry said. “Simmons is our guy.”

  “I never did like his attitude,” Audrey said.

  “Murph and Craig need help,” Sable said. “But the rest of you need to get to safety.”

  “We’re not leaving you here alone to face that goon,” Perry said. “I heard you and Craig talk a lot about hunting, and that was venison I cooked that nobody ate tonight. There must be some hunting equipment somewhere in this house.”

  Sable considered the hunting closet but she had no idea how capable the others were of shooting. “How do you feel about a little cave exploration?” she asked.

  “We can’t leave Murph and Craig out there!” Audrey exclaimed.

  “I don’t plan to, but the more of us there are, the more of an edge Simmons has over us. Bryce has had a tour of the cave and he might know another way out.” She turned to Bryce. “Remember the breakdown cavern we went through this morning?”

  The boy nodded. “I can find it.”

  “Good,” Sable said. “I believe that gives us the advantage. Craig found a sinkhole. I think it’ll be our way out.”

  “Okay, so the cave,” Perry said. “There's a rope on the basement landing and some flashlights.”

  “We'd better get a move on.” Audrey nudged Sable back down the hall. “They could come back in here any second.”

  “I’m not going down yet,” Sable said.

  “Are you nuts?” Perry exclaimed. “Of course you're coming with us. Look at what that man has already done. Do you think he’d hesitate to shoot you? Come on, Sable.”

  “I’ll catch up with you.”

  “What are you going to do?” Perry asked.

  “Take some precautions. Perry, take one of those garden spades with you. We may need to tunnel out. Bryce, if I’m not down in five minutes you need to take Perry and Audrey on to the breakdown cavern. You can all hide in the rocks. It’s a big room, and—”

  “I don't like this one bit,” Audrey said.

  “I'll find you—promise.” Sable nudged the group toward the basement door. “Now go. Hurry.”

  “We'll be okay, Audrey,” Bryce assured the older woman. “Are you afraid of caves?”

  “I’m afraid of killers.”

  As the others descended the basement steps, Sable ran up to the sewing room on the second floor. She checked the window, found it unlocked, shoved it open. If they needed an alternate entrance into the house later, this might work.

  She was on her own.

  * * *

  The left side of Murph’s jaw shot tentacles of fire across his face and skull. He tried to reach up but his hands would not move. They had been tied behind his back. He tested his extremities and found nothing wrong, though the back of his neck and head shrieked with agony when he tried to sit up.

  Someone kicked his left shoulder.

  “Trying to make a run for it, moron?” Simmons leered down at him. “Want an extra hole in the head?”

  Murph glared at the man's blurred upside-down image.

  “Get up.” Simmons shoved him again. “I'm not dragging you all the way to the house.”

  Murph glanced quickly around. Simmons had apparently already dragged him several yards over the ice before giving up. From the corner of his eye, Murph saw Craig’s prone body on a shadowy corner of the bridge.

  He remembered the sound of gunshot.

  “Let’s go,” Simmons growled.

  It was almost impossible for Murph to climb to his feet with his hands stuck—what, zip-tied?—behind his back. He scrambled to his knees on the ice a
s he tried to get a read on the gun in Simmons’s hand. He prayed that Sable and the others had retreated to safety.

  He paused and turned to look toward Craig’s fallen body at the bridge. “Aren’t you going to check and see if he’s still alive?”

  “I got him dead-on in the chest and I’ll do you the same favor if you don’t get moving.”

  Murph had stared death in the face many times in his career but he’d never grown accustomed to it. This nightmare continued to spiral further out of control.

  Simmons shoved him roughly. “I said get to the house!”

  Murph turned away but at the last second he thought he saw Craig’s arm move. He looked toward the house and managed a step on the ice, then another.

  “Move!” Simmons shoved Murph with his free hand.

  Murph continued at his own regulated pace, praying for Craig, praying for Sable’s safety, praying that the house would be empty when they reached the back door.

  “How does it feel to terrorize the same people who saved your life so recently?” Murph asked.

  No answer.

  “What would have happened to you if Audrey hadn’t dragged you from the creek? If Sable and I hadn’t performed CPR on—”

  “Shut up or you’ll find out it doesn’t bother me to put a bullet in the back of your head.”

  Murph fell silent until they reached the back door. He turned and faced Simmons and once more found himself staring at the barrel of a gun—except this time he recognized the shape of his own Detonics in the glow of moonlight. It was one of the smaller six-shot semiautomatic pistols manufactured and it looked like a toy in Simmons’s beefy hand.

  “One wrong move,” Simmons said quietly, “and you’re dead.”

  “And if we go inside someone else will die. You might as well shoot me here.”

  Simmons kicked the door open with his right foot. It slammed against the inside wall with a crash of glass. The sound triggered frantic barking from the depths of the house.