Berried in the Past

by Peg Cochran

  “You set Cheryl up,” Monica said. “You said you heard her arguing with Marta the day Marta died. That wasn’t true, was it?”

  Joyce laughed. “No. But needs must, you know.” She looked from Dana to Monica. “And now it’s time to do a little housekeeping.”

  Her smile sent chills down Monica’s spine.

  “Get your coats, ladies, we’re going for a little drive.”

  Chapter 21

  “Where are you taking us?” Dana said as Joyce motioned them out the door.

  “Someplace where you won’t be found for a couple of days. If then,” she added with a cackle.

  Dana spun around. “If something happens to me, the house and property won’t be sold for months if not years.”

  “I’m a patient person,” Joyce said. “I’m willing to wait. I’ve waited this long, haven’t I?”

  She herded them out the door and down the drive. It was inky dark, the moon hidden behind a wisp of cloud. Monica slipped on a patch of black ice and put her hand on Dana’s car to steady herself. She had forgotten her gloves in Joyce’s rush to get them out of the house and the cold metal of the car’s hood sent a chill through her.

  Joyce opened the trunk of her car. Monica and Dana looked at each other. Surely Joyce didn’t expect . . .

  “Get in.” Joyce motioned toward the trunk with the rifle.

  Dana balked and Joyce jabbed the rifle into her back. Dana let out a sob as she clambered into the trunk.

  “You’re next,” Joyce said to Monica.

  Monica put one foot into the well of the trunk. It was awkward and she scraped her leg against the lip as she climbed in. She heard her pants tear and felt blood trickle down her leg.

  Dana reached out and grabbed Monica’s hand.

  Monica dreaded the moment when Joyce would put down the lid. She swallowed hard—she’d never been able to conquer her touch of claustrophobia.

  The trunk lid came down with a muffled thud, snuffing out any light from the dark evening. Monica felt her breath catch in her throat but forced herself to breathe deeply to quell her rising panic.

  “Are you okay?” she asked Dana as they bumped down the rutted driveway.

  “A bit uncomfortable,” Dana said dryly. “I know I read something about how you’re supposed to get out of the trunk of a car, but for the life of me I can’t remember what it was.”

  “You’re supposed to kick out the rear taillights. I suppose we could give it a try, but frankly I think we should conserve our energy. The missing taillights aren’t likely to be noticed on these isolated country roads.”

  “I wonder where she’s taking us?”

  “Some secluded place, no doubt. Where she won’t have to worry about our bodies being immediately discovered.” Monica felt in her pocket. “Unfortunately, I think I left my cell phone at home.”

  “Mine is still on the kitchen table. If I hadn’t been so shocked, I would have grabbed it.”

  The darkness inside the trunk seemed to get darker the farther they traveled. Monica had a cramp in her arm, which was jammed into an awkward position, and the cut on her leg continued to sting and trickle blood.

  She was trying to mentally prepare herself for what would happen when they reached their destination. She and Dana would have to be prepared to fight, but how could they after being turned into pretzels by the confines of the trunk?

  The car hit a massive bump, jouncing it mightily and causing Monica to accidentally bite her lip. She ran her tongue over the spot and tasted blood.

  Now they were bumping over rough terrain and being jostled with every turn of the wheels.

  “Oh,” Dana cried out after they’d hit a particularly deep rut.

  Monica couldn’t imagine where they were going. She hadn’t heard any other cars the entire time they’d been traveling and now they appeared to have gone off-road.

  The car slowed and then came to a complete stop. Monica’s heart was thudding as she waited for Joyce to open the trunk. Would she shoot them while they were in the car? Probably not since that would leave too much forensic evidence behind. Even Joyce was probably smart enough to know that.

  Suddenly the trunk lid was thrown open and the beam of Joyce’s flashlight caught Monica in the eye, momentarily blinding her.

  “This is Marta’s,” Joyce said, brandishing the flashlight. “She kept it by her bedside.”

  “Is that what you hit me with?” Dana said in a weak voice.

  “Yes. It’s good and heavy.” Joyce hefted the flashlight. “Marta wanted it in case she had to get up during the night or in case someone broke into the house. She felt she’d at least be armed with something.”

  Joyce still had the rifle in her other hand. She motioned with it. “Come on, get out.”

  Both Monica and Dana groaned as they climbed out of the trunk and stretched their cramped limbs. Monica explored the hole in her pants and winced when her fingers found the cut on her leg.

  It was dark and difficult to see but they appeared to be on a rise that dropped down to a flatter area strewn with rocks. Dark pine trees were behind them, swaying in the wind.

  Dana’s face was white and her eyes looked unfocused. She was in shock. Monica realized it was going to be up to her to do something.

  Joyce marched them closer to the edge of the drop-off. A few spindly trees lined the edge, looking ghostly against the black sky. Monica felt her stomach clench.

  “This isn’t going to work, you know,” Monica said, stalling for time as Joyce pushed them closer to the edge.

  Joyce didn’t bother to respond.

  Monica was beginning to feel frantic. Was Joyce going to shoot them and then roll their bodies over the edge of the rise, where they would tumble to the ground below and be hidden in the scrubby growth?

  Dana reached out and grabbed Monica’s hand. Her fingers were trembling and cold to the touch.

  Monica wondered if she pretended to trip, could she find a rock and quickly grab it? The darkness made it so hard to see. And there was no guarantee that she would be able to hit Joyce, or hit her hard enough to make her drop the gun.

  But all they needed were a couple of seconds to escape. Joyce couldn’t see any better than they could and wasn’t likely to be able to shoot them at anything less than point-blank range.

  Suddenly Monica had an idea. It was a long shot, but the only thing she could think of.

  Joyce was leading them toward a space between two of the gangly stunted trees. Monica managed to edge them closer to one of them, forcing her and Dana to have to duck slightly to get under the lowest branch.

  As they were going through, Monica grabbed the branch and pulled it with her as far as it would bend. When it would go no further, she let it go. The branch snapped back into place, smacking Joyce in the face and knocking her off balance.

  “Quick, run,” Monica yelled, grabbing Dana’s arm.

  They were steps from the edge of the slope. Monica had barely more than a second to assess the steepness of the ground below before Joyce regained her footing.

  Saying a prayer, she jumped off the edge, pulling Dana down with her.

  They landed hard on the ground and were immediately tumbling down the slope. Monica’s shins banged against the sharp edges of rocks and she felt her hands scraping against the rough pebbles that littered the ground.

  She slid down and down until she thought it would never end, but finally she hit level ground. Dana rolled to a stop beside her.

  “Quick.” Monica got to her feet and held out a hand to Dana, who stood up with a groan.

  Monica managed to sneak a quick peek behind her, where she could see Joyce silhouetted against the night sky. She was at the edge of the precipice staring at the slope as if trying to decide whether to risk it or not.

  Monica didn’t wait to find out what she decided. “Run,” she yelled to Dana, who appeared to be frozen to the spot.

  Dana startled briefly but then followed Monica as they hacked their way through snow
-covered weedy growth that reached their knees and soaked their trousers.

  Monica stepped in a hole at one point, probably a small animal’s burrow, and fell hard, smacking the palm of her right hand against the frozen ground. She stifled a sob as she scrambled to her feet and continued running, her breath rasping and loud to her own ears.

  At one point she thought she heard Joyce behind them, but when she risked a quick glance over her shoulder, there was no one there, just the blackness of the night.

  “Do you think she’s following us?” Dana gasped.

  “I don’t know. We did get a bit of a head start.”

  “Do you think we should try to hide somewhere?”

  “I don’t see any likely spots, do you?” Monica looked around but the few trees were scrawny and not thick enough to hide behind.

  “Maybe she’ll give up?” Dana said.

  “I don’t know. We’re a danger to her now that we know what she did. The only way for her to escape is to eliminate us.” The word stuck in Monica’s throat. “I wish we knew where we were and if we’re anywhere near a road.”

  Monica heard a noise behind them and whirled around.

  “What is it?” Dana said.

  “Nothing. A small animal maybe.”

  A shot rang out and they both froze. Dana looked at Monica.

  “Was that Joyce?”

  “I don’t think anyone is out hunting at this hour. It has to be Joyce. But it was coming from a ways off. I don’t think she knows where we are. Hurry. We have to keep moving and pray we come to a road.”

  After another fifteen minutes, Monica was exhausted. She ached all over and she would have given anything for a drink of water. She wanted to cry. Would Joyce find them and shoot them in the end? Would she ever see Greg again or Jeff or Gina? A feeling of lethargy came over her and she wanted to lie on the ground and give up. What was the point if Joyce was going to catch them in the end?

  Instead, she forced herself to keep going. Suddenly she stopped and grabbed Dana’s arm.

  “What’s that noise?”

  “I don’t hear anything.”

  “It sounded like a car,” Monica said excitedly. “I think we’re nearing a road. We can flag someone down and get help.”

  The brush began to thin the farther they went until Monica felt gravel underfoot.

  “I think we’re almost there.”

  They continued walking and finally Monica saw a thin ribbon of macadam in the distance.

  “Come on.” She grabbed Dana’s arm. “It is a road. Now pray someone comes along before Joyce finds us.”

  Nearly overcome by fatigue, they stumbled the rest of the way until they reached the edge of the road.

  “We did it.” Monica couldn’t keep the triumph from her voice.

  But their victory was short-lived. A shot rang out, the bullet whizzing perilously close before hitting the road and sending a chunk of macadam flying.

  “She must be right behind us.” Monica stifled a sob.

  Another shot, wide of the mark again.

  “We should lie down flat,” Monica said. “We’re making too easy a target like this.”

  She was about to drop to her knees when she heard the unmistakable sound of a car coming—a car with a muffler badly in need of replacement. The noise got louder until an old clunker came into view, its body rusted and dented and a front right tire that was nearly flat.

  Monica ran into the street and waved her arms frantically.

  The car slowed and came to a stop. Monica grabbed the handle of the front passenger door and yanked it open.

  “Don!” she exclaimed in surprise.

  Chapter 22

  “May I offer you ladies a lift?” Don said, doffing an imaginary hat.

  Dana looked puzzled. “Do you know this man?”

  “Sort of,” Monica said. “Get in and I’ll explain.” She all but fell into the front seat. Every inch of her was aching and her palm was throbbing from when she’d fallen flat on her face.

  A shot rang out and Don jumped. “What was that?”

  “Someone who’s trying to kill us. Let’s get out of here.”

  Don stepped on the gas and the ancient car shot forward, its springs squeaking and its muffler belching noise and smoke.

  The interior smelled of cigarette smoke, cheap booze and exhaust fumes.

  “Is that someone behind us?” Dana said, swiveling around to look out the back windows.

  “Do you see anyone in the rearview mirror, Don?” Monica groaned as she tried to turn around in her seat. Every little movement hurt.

  “I do see some headlights in back of us. They disappeared when we went around that bend, but now they’re back again.”

  “Do you have a cell phone?” Monica said to Don.

  “I’ve got one of those prepaid jobs. Will that do?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Don pointed at the glove compartment. “It’s in there. I don’t hardly ever use it. I keep it in case of emergencies.”

  Monica opened the glove box. She found two empty cigarette packs, an empty pint of whiskey, one glove with a hole in the thumb and finally the cell phone.

  She quickly punched in Greg’s number and explained the situation. Monica heard his sharp inhalation of breath but somehow he managed to keep his voice calm and steady.

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  Monica glanced out the window but all she could see were trees.

  “I’m not sure. But I think Joyce may be following us. There’s a car behind us but I can’t be sure if it’s hers or not. It was dark when she made us get into the trunk and it was dark when we got out.” Monica bit her lip. “I wish I’d taken down the license plate number.”

  “Do you think you can make it back here?” Greg said.

  “I think so. She probably plans to ambush us when we pull into the driveway.” The thought gave Monica chills. “Listen. Call the police and ask them to send some patrol cars to Sassamanash Farm. If that is Joyce behind us, she’ll get a surprise welcoming committee that she didn’t expect.”

  “Will do. And Monica? I love you. Please be careful.”

  Monica clicked off the call. She felt tears trembling on her lashes and quickly brushed them away.

  “I can’t believe Joyce is the one who killed my sister,” Dana said as they lurched down the road. “All I ever heard was what good friends they were.”

  “It seems Joyce had been harboring a seething resentment for years and it finally exploded when she found out that Marta was the one responsible for the accident that killed her boyfriend.”

  The lights from the car behind them suddenly illuminated the interior of Don’s car. Monica jerked around to look out the back window. The car was inches from their bumper—it had to be Joyce.

  “She must be crazy,” Dana said.

  Suddenly the car behind them rammed their bumper.

  “What the . . . ?” Don said, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “I think we need to get out of here.” He stomped on the gas pedal and the car shot forward, nearly lurching off its chassis.

  Monica closed her eyes and tried to breathe normally as Don flew around corners, hit potholes at top speed and wove back and forth across the yellow line.

  She didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until she saw the lights of Cranberry Cove winking in the distance. Never had the view looked so good to her.

  “Turn here,” Monica yelled as they were about to whiz past the road leading to the farm. “There’s a driveway on the left. Make another turn there.”

  Don slowed slightly as he took the turn on two wheels. Soon they were rocketing down the driveway to Monica’s cottage, Joyce’s car in hot pursuit.

  At first Monica didn’t see any patrol cars and she felt panic washing over her. All the lights in the cottage were off, including the light over the back door, which she and Greg always left on.

  Don stopped the car and Joyce came to a halt right behind him.

  Suddenly headl
ights from three patrol cars hidden in the dark shadows flashed on, as blinding as klieg lights on a movie set. Several officers appeared beside their cars, guns drawn and aimed at Joyce.

  Joyce attempted to get back into her car.

  “Hold it right there,” one of the officers yelled, his finger on the trigger of his gun.

  Two other officers hastened over to Joyce and within seconds she was handcuffed and marched to the patrol car that had just pulled into the driveway in back of the other cars.

  Monica felt a stab of pity as Joyce was led away. She’d allowed her emotions to twist her and torture her until she had finally resorted to murder. How miserable that must have made life for her.

  Greg came out of the house then. He was in his shirtsleeves. He put his arms around Monica and buried his face in her hair. They stood like that for several seconds.

  “Let’s all go inside,” Greg said finally, still not releasing his hold on Monica. “I’m sure everyone could do with a shot of whiskey after that ordeal.”

  Chapter 23

  They were all seated at a table at the Pepper Pot, a sweating bottle of champagne in a silver metal cooler next to Greg’s elbow. Monica looked at everyone gathered together and felt a strong sense of contentment. It had been two weeks since Joyce had been arrested, and she had decided that a celebration was in order.

  “Here’s to a long, happy life,” Gina said, raising her glass in a toast.

  Mickey Welch wandered over to the table and stood in back of Gina, his hands on her shoulders.

  “I hope everyone is enjoying themselves. If there’s anything you need, please let me know.” He bent and kissed Gina on the cheek before turning and leaving.

  “What was that all about?” Jeff said with a twinkle in his eye. “Are you two becoming an item, as they say?”

  Gina actually blushed, which surprised Monica.

  “We have been going out,” she said coyly, taking another sip of her champagne.