Fatal Ranch Reunion

by Jaycee Bullard

  Seb stood. “Need some help?”

  “Nope. See you at the finish line.” She turned and gave him an A-OK salute.

  Timmy waited until his mom was halfway down to the lake and then tugged Seb’s sleeve. “Do you think Mom will win?”

  “She might.” The orange kayak was already in the water. All that was left for Tacy to do was clip the straps on her life jacket, grab her paddle and climb inside. He released a long sigh. He’d be glad when the race was over, and Tacy was safely back on shore.

  A buzzer blared, and the race began. “And they’re off,” someone shouted from a table nearby. In a flurry of frothy spray, a host of kayaks launched from the shore. He felt someone brush against him, and he turned to see his mom by his side.

  Timmy jumped up and down. “Go, Mom. You can do it.”

  It was difficult to see much from shore, but Tacy’s kayak appeared to be out in front of the pack. She made a tight turn at the other side of the lake, widening her lead by at least twenty yards. With less than two miles to go, she seemed on track for an easy victory.

  Seb stepped closer to the lake for a better view.

  But as the racers passed the marker for the final stretch, the rain began to fall. And what started off as light drizzle quickly became a downpour. There was a flurry among the bystanders as everyone grabbed a dish and ran toward the shelter.

  Seb turned toward his mom, who was standing next to Timmy. “Go on into the hall before you both get drenched. I’ll come find you as soon as Tacy gets to shore.”

  His mom slung an arm over Timmy’s shoulders. “Race you inside.” With that, she took off running. He watched them for a minute and then turned his attention back to the race. It was raining harder now, and it was almost impossible to see what was happening on the lake. Heavy brown-and-green-hued clouds hung low in sky, fringed purple around the edges. He crooked his hand over his eye and squinted, searching for a slash of orange on the choppy gray.

  But he couldn’t see anything.

  FIFTEEN

  Bullet-shaped drops of rain pummeled Tacy’s arms and legs as she spun her paddle through the swells. She was soaking wet, but it didn’t matter. Victory was less than a hundred strokes away. Her nearest competitor, a tall, blonde woman with a red bandana tied around her hair, was twenty yards behind her. At least she was the last time Tacy checked.

  Competitive juices burned through her veins. But it was becoming more difficult to stay the course as the bow of the kayak pitched forward into the foam. Waves of grey water sloshed across the hull. She adjusted her position to compensate for the chop, bracing her legs in the cockpit and holding her paddle horizontal to the deck. That should have done the trick, but it didn’t. The kayak rolled to the right, tipping her sideways into the lake.

  She hit the water hard but quickly broke through to the surface, twisting around to see the location of the others in the race. But the rain was falling so hard that she couldn’t see anything, not even the shore.

  Maybe I can still win. She flipped the kayak over and, positioning her hands on the rim of the cockpit, took a deep breath and prepared to heave herself inside. It was a move she had accomplished many times in the past, but never in these kinds of circumstances.

  But as she pulled herself up, something tugged down on her leg. She pushed back against the pressure, but she couldn’t break free. Had her toes gotten tangled in a clump of pondweed? She peered through the murky water as a black shadow passed beneath her.

  A scuba diver? Here? At the end of the race?

  The dark figure gripped her ankles and pulled again. Tacy reached around and grasped the side of the kayak, desperation welling up in her veins. Queasiness overtook her. The tug-of-war continued as she was dragged down to the bottom of the lake. Panic surged through her body as her lungs locked, desperate for air.

  Three minutes. That’s how long a person could survive without oxygen. How long had she been under water? One minute? Maybe two?

  Long fingers scrabbled their way up her legs. Tacy pulled her knees toward her chest and pushed back hard with all her might. Pain ripped across her muscles, but she didn’t stop fighting until she had kicked her legs free. She broke through to the surface, gasping for air. She filled her lungs with as much as she could take in. Even the rain, pelting against her face, felt like vindication as she raised her eyes to the sky and...

  No! Those fingers were back around her ankles, relentlessly yanking her down once more. Air burbled through her mouth and her nostrils. Her stomach clenched, and her tongue tasted the bile in her throat. Timmy’s sweet face flashed across her brain as she launched a sharp kick against her aggressor’s shoulder. Her rib cage throbbed from the water’s pressure, and her lungs felt ready to explode. But her foot made contact, and once again, she bobbed to the surface. But this time, she didn’t wait. She took off like a rocket, pumping her arms, her strokes long and quick as she clawed through the waves. Her legs pounded the water with a flutter kick that was one part skill and two parts desperation. She couldn’t allow herself to be pulled to the bottom again. She would make it to shore and survive.

  Twelve, thirteen, fourteen. Raindrops pelted her shoulders as she counted the strokes in her head. Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three. Exhaustion ripped through her muscles. And her lungs continued to scream for air—the short breaths she took between strokes weren’t nearly enough. Thirty-three. Thirty-four. Her hand smashed against a solid bottom of dirt and pebbles, and before her brain could even register what was happening, she was crawling out of the water, into Seb’s waiting arms.

  * * *

  A coil of fear tightened across Seb’s shoulders as he carried Tacy toward the shore. He knew that the best response was to stay calm. But Tacy had almost drowned out there on the lake. He had almost lost her again.

  “You can put me down now, Seb,” she said, slipping out of his arms and collapsing into one of the chairs inside the church office. Long strands of her wet hair stuck to her face, and her clothing was soaked all the way through, dripping onto the floor.

  He handed her a box of tissues that was on top of the credenza, and she pinched out a pile to wipe her face.

  “Where’s Timmy?” she said.

  “He’s in the hall playing bingo. I don’t think anyone could see what was going on out there on the lake, not even the other women in the race.”

  “I guess I came in last,” she said.

  “Actually, two kayaks were still out when you crossed the finish line. But you were probably disqualified because your kayak flipped and you swam to shore.”

  “No, Seb.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “My kayak didn’t just overturn. Someone in scuba gear pushed it over and then tried to pull me down. It was horrible. I thought I’d never get away.”

  What? “I thought your kayak got knocked over in the waves.”

  “No,” she said. Her eyes were blank as she shook her head. “Someone tried to kill me. Again.”

  How could he have been so oblivious? He should have known better. “Did you recognize the diver?”

  “No. The water was way too murky. And when I reached the surface, it was raining so hard I could barely see two feet in front of me.”

  There was a knock at the door. Steven and his dad stuck their heads into the room.

  “The bingo game’s almost over,” Steven explained. “And Timmy’s wondering what happened with the race.”

  Tacy pulled herself up. “Thanks, Steven. I’ll go talk to him and give your mom a break.”

  Seb made a move to follow her, but Steven stopped him. “Can I speak to you for minute? It’s important,” he said.

  “You two go ahead and talk while Tacy and I head to the hall,” his father said. “Come on, Tacy. We’ll get you some towels so you can dry off and then see what’s happening in the bingo game.”

  Seb waited until they were gone before he turned to
his brother. “I want to hear your news, but I need to give you a heads-up on what just happened on the lake. Someone tried to drown Tacy during the race.”

  “Should I call the sheriff and have him meet us here at the church?”

  Seb shook his head. “At this point, it might be best to go home and call it in from there. The way this rain is coming down, it seems unlikely that any trace of evidence remains. What did you want to tell me?”

  “You’re not going to believe it.” Steven moved toward the door and pushed it closed. “This morning, I retraced the route we took when we were riding with Timmy. I knew I could get in trouble for poking around on Tolbert property, so I left Topper tethered in the grove and headed on foot to the mine. There were boards over the entrance, but the nails came off easily, too easily, if you ask me. I went inside and poked around. And guess what I found? Signs of recent excavation. And a six-inch-wide seam of white quartz, threaded with gold.”

  “Are you sure it was gold?”

  Steven nodded. “As sure I can be.”

  This was a major bombshell. As far as Seb knew, gold hadn’t been found in Chimney Bluff in over a hundred years. “If what you say is true, someone stands to make a pretty big profit when they buy Tolbert’s land. I’d be surprised if Carl knows anything about this. But I’d venture to say that Gunnar Graff does. Didn’t he commission a mineral survey?”

  “He did, but I don’t know if was completed. Just to make sure that my eyes weren’t deceiving me, I snapped a couple shots of the exposed vein. The lighting is off because it was so dark, but you can see the seam as clear as day.” He pulled up the pictures on his phone and then handed it across the table.

  Seb scrolled through the shots. Steven was right. The vein of gold was unmistakable.

  “Wow. This is crazy.”

  Steven nodded. “And that’s not the only interesting detail I discovered today. When I drove into the church lot, I parked next to a silver sedan that looked like the one that passed me the night of Tacy’s bike accident. I’ve been thinking about it, trying to recall any identifying details, and I had this vague recollection that there was a Wichita State decal on the back window. It struck me at the time because I remember thinking that the driver was a long way from Kansas. So when I saw the car with the same decal, it sparked my memory. And then I noticed a streak of blue on the front bumper. Took a picture of that, too.”

  “We need to find out who owns that car.”

  “Already did. Her name is Virg Smith. I met her a couple of minutes ago. She’s here at the picnic with her great-granddaughter. And here’s where this whole thing gets interesting. When I asked about the scratch on her bumper, Virg said that it happened when her neighbor borrowed her car. Want to guess her neighbor’s name?”

  Before he could answer, his brother filled in the blanks.

  “Gunnar Graff,” Steven said.

  SIXTEEN

  Seb followed Steven through the maze of corridors that led through the church. The door to the sanctuary was closed, and meeting rooms on the first floor were dark and deserted. But at the bottom of the stairs, the hall was a hive of activity. Apron-clad volunteers bustled around wrapping up leftovers while a team of teenagers collapsed tables and stacked chairs.

  Tacy was waiting on the side of the room with Timmy and his folks. Her arms were clenched across her chest, and her eyes were hooded with anxiety. One of the workers must have dug into the lost and found and come up with the light blue track suit she was wearing. It wasn’t the most current style, but at least it was dry.

  He met his mom’s worried glance. He wasn’t sure how much she had been told, but it must have been enough to stir her distress.

  “Everything okay here?” he asked.

  “Not really,” his mom said. “Dad and I need to take Tacy and Timmy home immediately. Tacy needs to warm up. Maybe with a hot bath and then a cup of chamomile tea. And after that...”

  “That sounds like a good idea, Ma. Steven and I will carry what you need to the car, and then you can head for home.” He looked around the room. “Was Gunnar Graff here today?”

  His mother nodded. “He was, but he left before it started to rain. Said he had some work to do back at the office. Something about a trial starting at the end of the week.”

  “Why are you asking about Gunnar?” Tacy asked.

  “I have a couple questions for him. Not a big deal.” Tacy had already been through enough, and she had always been close to Gunnar. There was no need to upset her until he had more evidence. “Steven and I might head over to his law office to see if he’s around. My mom and dad can take you and Timmy home in Steven’s truck.”

  “Can’t it wait until morning?” His mom frowned. “The roads are bound to be flooded. And they’ll just get worse if you delay.”

  “I know, Mom. But we’ll be home before you know it.”

  His dad gestured to Timmy. “Say, young man. Can you help me carry this heavy bag out to the truck? You take one side, and I’ll take the other.”

  Once Timmy was out of earshot, Tacy reached over and grabbed Seb’s arm. “Please come back with us. I know I never should have gone out in that kayak. Sometimes...” Her voice broke. “Sometimes I’m too stubborn for my own good.”

  “Maybe. But who would have expected danger to follow you to the church picnic?”

  “You. You warned me against entering the race.”

  He may have advised caution, but even in his wildest imaginings, he hadn’t imagined that there would be a scuba diver, lurking in the lake. He hadn’t even recognized it while it was happening. “Don’t let your mind go there, Tace. I’ll see you at home, okay?”

  And as soon as the last cooler had been loaded, he and Steven headed off to find Gunnar. But the law offices were dark when they pulled into the lot. The rain soaked through their clothing as they dashed from the truck to the door.

  They knocked and waited. Rang the bell and knocked again.

  “Let’s try his house,” Seb said.

  But no one answered the door there either.

  “What now?” Steven asked once they were back in the truck.

  “I guess we go home.” Seb struggled to control his growing frustration. The never-ending merry-go-round of assaults and dead ends was wearing him down. All he wanted to do was to head back to the ranch, wrap Tacy and Timmy in his arms, and hold them secure until all of this was over.

  But as he drove by a striped awning halfway past the intersection of 8th and Main, he hit the brake and pulled to a stop. “Look!” he said to Steven, pointing out the window.

  “That’s Lois’s shop,” Steven said. “Exotic Blooms for All Occasions.”

  “Yeah. Did you see the trashcan?” He didn’t wait to hear his brother’s answer. He jumped out of the truck and dashed toward the plastic bin that was tipped on its side next to a heap of trash on the pavement.

  Crouching on his knees, he snatched the item that had caught his eye as they passed the store. His fingers closed around the telltale shape of a black rubber fin. He reached into the rubble and sifted around. Seconds later, he uncovered a second fin, an aluminum tank and a wet suit.

  “Looks like we found our scuba diver,” Steven said. “I suppose this means that we need to have a chat with Lois, though it’s unlikely that she’s anywhere in the vicinity.”

  Seb stood upright and headed across the sidewalk toward the flower store. He peered through the frosted glass of the window. “The place looks deserted. But it wouldn’t hurt to poke around and see if we can find any clues about where she’s gone.”

  He knelt down in front of the door and pulled his keychain out of his pocket. The rain spat against his face, making it nearly impossible to see the lock, but if he could wedge the file from his Swiss Army knife into the keyhole, he might be able to open the door. He gripped the tool in his wet fingers, but it slipped from his fingers an
d fell into a stream of water gushing across the sidewalk. Steven made a splashing leap and grabbed it before it disappeared into the overflowing sewer grate.

  Seb brushed a wet hand through his soaked hair and blinked the raindrops out of his eyes. Holding the keychain steady with his left hand, he tried again to jiggle the tool into the lock. Success! The latch clicked, and the door swished open.

  The still air inside the store came as a welcome relief from the lashing rain. Even more pleasant was the aroma of vanilla mingled with the scent of the sweet alyssum plants and frangipani branches that had been set in the large urns next to the door.

  Steven flipped a switch. “Power’s out,” he said.

  “It must have just happened. It’s still cool in here.” Seb powered up the flashlight on his phone and traced the beam back and forth around the space. The light skimmed across a wide butcher block table brimming with succulents and landed on a maroon curtain along the rear wall.

  “You see what you can find in the front, and I’ll check the back.”

  His boots left a wet trail on the smooth terra-cotta tiles as he tramped across the room and swept open the curtain. A gasp stuck in his throat.

  Before him was a tower of terrariums and crates. A dank odor assaulted his senses as his ears picked up the hushed rustle of movement inside.

  What on earth? Signs on the sides of the cages identified the terrifying lineup by name. Scorpion. Brown Recluse Spider. Cobra. King Snake.

  The hairs on his arm prickled.

  Steven hurried to his side. “Whoa. I wouldn’t have pegged Mrs. Tolbert as a collector of spiders and snakes. I wonder where she got all these?”

  “I don’t know. But it can’t be a coincidence that two of the empty ones are labeled Black Widow Spider and Western Rattlesnake.”

  Steven blew out a long breath. “I wonder what happened to that one there.” He pointed to the open door of a large empty cage.

  “Black Mamba.” Seb’s voice shook as he read the label, and then he swept his beam across the floor.