The Lilac Code

by Becki Willis

  Just before the Riverton VFD arrived on scene from the north, Blake pulled onto the blacktop road, headed south.

  It was a long drive back to The Sisters. The teens passed two firetrucks on the way. Blake recognized Cutter driving one of the engines.

  “We have to tell.”

  “We are so dead.”

  “Grounded for life.”

  “Goodbye, freedom. Hello, misery.”

  “You could’ve been hurt.”

  “You, too.”

  “You, three.”

  “And what was that about, jumping on Julio’s back like that?”

  “I didn’t even get in my own punch.”

  “Don’t sulk, bro. You’re still the hero of the night.”

  “You’ll have a shiner by morning.”

  Still squashed between her new friends, Tasha’s voice was small as she broke into the glum conversation. “Do we really have to tell?”

  “Yes.”

  “We have to tell.”

  “We’ll all do it together.”

  Chapter 23

  “Granny! Where are you?” Madison and Genny hissed the words as they entered the old ruins.

  Hearing no reply, they moved further inside. The weak, watery light of the moon, echoed by the river beyond, gave the concrete beneath their feet a pale and ghostly glow. Wind howled through the glassless windows and rushed down the pipes and broken bricks, whirling about the gutted building with eerie moans. As their eyes adjusted to the deeper shadows inside, they made out a few scant details. Huge, circular pieces of equipment. Massive boilers and extensive pipes. A long piece of grated metal—perhaps once structural support, perhaps scaffolding—hung suspended in the air, a dark skeleton amid the shadows.

  “Granny Bert! Where are you?” Madison called, daring to raise her voice above a whisper.

  They heard a muffled voice, and the sound of movement. Staying close to one another, they hurried as best they could through the jumble of industrial, natural, and man-made waste. They entered another room of the ruins, heard Granny Bert’s low whistle, and found still two more sectional spaces before spotting her.

  Granny Bert lay on the floor of the old building, trussed up like a turkey on Thanksgiving Day. Her legs were bound at the ankles, her hands tied behind her back. The binding around her mouth glowed the brightest of all. She mumbled something unintelligible as the women dropped to their knees beside her.

  As Genny knelt to untie her feet, Maddy made quick work of the gag around her mouth.

  “Granny, are you okay? We were so worried! Are you hurt? Is anything broken? Your face is bleeding!” Madison spoke in a rush, not waiting for her grandmother’s reply to any of her questions.

  Despite the blood smeared across her cheek, the bindings still on all four limbs, and the bone-chilling cold surrounding them in the ruins, the old woman managed a smile. “Been better.” They were Maddy’s exact words from ten minutes earlier. Her voice was gruffer than usual but came out strong, considering her circumstances. “Cut my face on that wire, trying to loosen the gag enough to whistle.”

  “Thank goodness you did! I heard Grandpa Joe’s emergency code and knew it was you.” Madison gave her grandmother a jubilant hug.

  Still working on the ropes at the older woman’s feet, Genny looked up in frustration. She kept her voice low, but her annoyance was clear. “I can’t get these loose! Find me something to use as a saw.”

  “I don’t know if we have time. Maury could be back at any moment,” Madison worried.

  “Well, I can’t hop out of here like a bunny,” Granny Bert snorted. “Unless you plan on carrying me out, you’ve got to cut me free.”

  While Genny used a rusted piece of tin to saw through a few fibers, at best, Maddy worked on freeing her grandmother’s hands. Granny Bert groaned as circulation returned to her arms and hurt ‘like the dickens.’ according to her muttered complaints.

  “Are you done yet?” Madison whispered to her friend.

  “No! This is some kind of super knot. It won’t budge, and that tin keeps breaking. I can’t do this in the dark. We’ve got to think of something else.”

  “I think I hear Maury coming back. Granny, can you scoot your way to the doorway? I’ve got a plan.”

  Maury moved stealthily through the old power house, but the women were ready for him. Their ears tuned in to the sound of his soft footsteps. They knew when he snapped an unseen twig in two, knew when his toe encountered a loose bolt and sent it skittering across the floor. They heard the rustle of his clothes, and knew he was close.

  By the time they heard his breath, labored but measured, he was only inches away.

  Granny, her feet still securely bound, sat on the floor on one side of the opening, while Genny squatted low on the other side. As Maury stepped cautiously through the doorway, his eyes scanned the room in front of him, searching the darkened space for his prisoner.

  He never saw the rope. On the silent count of three, the women raised the braided strand and pulled it taut. Maury tripped and went down hard.

  They counted on the concrete floor to deliver a hard and unforgiving blow. They didn’t account for how far the big man would fall, or how wide his sprawl. Maury yelped as he landed on a huge gear with thick, vicious teeth. A nearby pile of gnarled and rusted tin bit into his face.

  Madison was ready with her long and heavy pipe. Her swing lost much of its force as she struck him across the shoulders, if for nothing else but good measure. From the sounds of the man’s pitiful moans, he was already incapacitated.

  “Get his gun!” Genny advised.

  “See if he has a knife,” Granny Bert prioritized. She wanted free.

  Madison found both. While the other two worked to saw through the ropes binding her grandmother’s feet, Madison questioned Maury as she held his gun on him.

  “Are you the only one here?”

  When he only groaned, she nudged him with her foot. “Answer me! Are you the only one out here?”

  He muttered yes without moving.

  Taking him at his word, Madison used her phone to call Sophie. The moment the innkeeper answered, she heard the commotion in the background. “We have my grandmother,” Madison said without preamble. “I hope all that racket means your friend arrived and has the men in custody.”

  The innkeeper sounded breathless. “Yes, yes. Logan arrived and has everything under control. Is your grandmother all right?”

  Genny’s flashlight app illuminated the space, giving them their first good look at the older woman. Finally free of the ropes, Granny Bert stomped around to restore blood flow to her feet. Her clothes were ruined, blood dried upon her cheek, her body visibly shook from a mixture of cold and nerves, and there were rope burns around both wrists. Her hair was a mess, matted with dust, rust, pieces of leaves, twigs, and spider webs. To Madison, she’d never looked better.

  “She looks great,” Madison answered with a smile. “Send the police out to the old cotton mill, to the abandoned power house ruins. We’ll have Maury tied up and waiting for them.”

  Granny Bert refused medical aid, insisting all she needed was a bed, a stiff drink, and a warm blanket, not necessarily in that order.

  Logan McKee introduced herself as a member of a security agency, although she never clearly identified the exact one. After a quick debriefing and whiskey-laced hot toddies, she arranged for the CIA, FBI, Homeland Security, and assorted other officials to return the next day for formal questioning. Cold and exhausted, the women gratefully retired for the night, but sleep was slow to come. After a hot, soaking bath, Granny Bert crawled into bed, tucked securely beneath a warm blanket and two pairs of watchful eyes.

  “I’m ready to go home,” Genny confessed.

  “Maybe we’re not cut out to be spies,” the older woman agreed. Her voice was muffled beneath the covers piled on top of her. She couldn’t seem to shake the chill that had settled into her bones. “I’ve had enough of all this secret code business.”

 
; “I couldn’t agree more,” Madison said. “I miss my B’s.” At Genny’s questioning look, she clarified, “Bethani, Blake, and Brash.”

  “Have you called them yet?”

  “No,” she admitted. “I haven’t figured out how to explain it yet.”

  “Me, either. I texted Cutter and told him I would call later, but I know he’ll hear it in my voice.”

  “It’s almost midnight at home. With any luck, they’re all asleep and won’t realize we didn’t call.”

  Chapter 24

  Monitoring a big fire between Naomi and Riverton as it played out over the police scanner, Brash didn’t hear the teens when they pulled in the drive. He was in the family room when the front door chimed their arrival.

  The team at Home Again originally designated the space as the media room. Thanks to the generous sponsors of the show, it came stocked with cutting-edge electronics, state-of-the-art surround sound, and the finest in-home theater furnishings. Second only to the farmhouse-style kitchen, it was everyone’s favorite room in the house, but Madison said calling it the media room sounded too technical. She renamed it the family room, insisting the term was a better fit.

  “In here,” Brash called. He started up from the reclining seat, but the trio was already in the room, plus one.

  He eyed the girl with the purple streaks in her hair and the dark makeup. “I didn’t realize we were having a guest this evening.” His tone remained friendly, but his gaze was sharp as he turned to Bethani. “Does your mother object?”

  With a heavy and audible sigh, Blake stepped out from behind his sister and lifted his head. “Oh, she’ll object to just about everything that happened tonight.”

  “Blake! What happened to your face? And why do all of you reek of smoke?” Brash ran his sharp blue gaze over the four of them. Concern edged into his infamous imperial smirk. “Singed shoes, smutty pants, dirty hands. Who wants to go first?”

  “I will.” Megan was quick to volunteer. “Daddy, this is our new friend, Tasha Garrison. Tasha, this is my father, Police Chief Brash deCordova.”

  The moment they pulled up at the Big House, Tasha recognized the old mansion from the television reality show. With only the briefest of explanations, her new friends admitted to their real identity. Bethani made some excuse about escaping the notoriety and wanting to make friends on her own merit, not her fleeting flame. Tasha had taken the news in stride, even though she still looked a bit dazed. It was hard to know if it stemmed from this new revelation or from the night’s events.

  Hearing the formal title attached to his name, the dark-haired girl grew noticeably anxious. Bethani threaded her arm through the girl’s to control her trembling. “It’s okay, Tasha,” she said softly. “He’s a good guy.”

  Brash’s eyes warmed with the praise from his soon-to-be stepdaughter, but he didn’t allow it to distract him. “Hello, Tasha. Bethani told me she made a new friend. It’s nice to meet you.” He graced the frightened teen with a tolerant smile and a gentle greeting. But as he turned to his daughter, his demeanor hardened. “I’m waiting for an explanation.”

  “Before we tell you the whole story and you blow up like I know you will, I want you to know that Blake was a true hero tonight. He probably saved my life.” Going up on tiptoe, Megan brushed a kiss across the lanky teen’s bruised cheek. “Thanks, bro. I owe you one.”

  “What you owe is an explanation,” Brash said, losing his patience. “Let’s all have a seat, and then I want to hear the whole sordid story. Tasha, let’s start with you. After you call your father, you can tell me how you know my kids.”

  “Your dad is so cool,” Tasha proclaimed the next morning. Wearing one of Megan’s light-blue blouses and with her face scrubbed clean, she looked like a completely different person than the one they first met. Even her purple-streaked hair, styled with a bit of curl and Bethani’s special touch, looked more trendy than harsh.

  After hearing explanations from each of the four teens the night before, Brash delayed passing judgment on their exploits. Instead, he sent them to bed and said they would discuss it over breakfast.

  “Yeah, he is pretty awesome,” Megan agreed. Her smile turned to a grimace as she added, “Let’s just hope we still think so after we hear his verdict.”

  “We might as well get this over with and go help cook breakfast,” Bethani said.

  As the girls descended from their third-floor rooms, Tasha was clearly in awe. “I can’t believe you two actually live in this house. It’s amazing.”

  “Well, technically, I don’t live here yet,” Megan corrected. “But even before our parents got engaged, I was over here all the time.”

  “I can see why. This house is awesome.”

  “What sounds good for breakfast?” Bethani asked her guest.

  Tasha shrugged her shoulders. “I dunno.”

  “What do you and your dad usually eat?”

  “How would I know what he eats? I never see him.” Her voice took on a petulant tone.

  “Really? That’s sad,” Megan said. “Not only do I have an awesome dad, I’ve got an awesome stepfather, and soon I’ll have an awesome stepmother. I like spending time with all my parents.”

  “My dad never has time for me. Sometimes, it’s like he forgets I even exist.”

  Bethani paused on the second-floor landing. “I sorta know what you mean,” she admitted. “Before my dad died, he didn’t have a lot of time for me and Blake.”

  “Really?” Megan peered around Tasha to look at her best friend. “I’ve never heard you say that before. You always talk about how great he was.”

  “He was.” Her voice took on a defensive note, but as she toyed with the intricate carvings on the newel post, the argument escaped on a sigh. “I know I usually blame my mom for their problems, but the truth is, my father had changed those last couple of years. He started missing my recitals. He never had time for Blake’s games, or for family game night, or for anything that involved us. If it wasn’t for work or with his assistant”—her voice took on an air of disdain—“he wasn’t interested.”

  Megan rubbed her friend’s arm. “I’m sorry, Beth,” she murmured. “I never knew.”

  She lifted a shoulder as if to say it didn’t matter, even when they all knew her heart still ached. Turning the attention away from herself, the teen addressed Tasha, “Is that how it is with your dad? Does he have an assistant?”

  “No. He just works all the time. He even took a second job. Sometimes… sometimes, I think it’s so he doesn’t have to be stuck at the house with me.” Her lip trembled as she made the admission.

  “I doubt that’s it, Tasha,” Megan said encouragingly. “Maybe he just finds the house too lonely without your mom there. Maybe working is how he deals with his grief.”

  “What about my grief?” The girl tossed her head and flounced onto the first step.

  “How did your mom die?” Bethani’s tone was gentle as they continued down the stairs.

  “She had cancer.”

  “Maybe he has a lot of medical bills,” the blond suggested. “My mom tries not to let it show, but I know she worries a lot about money. She’s taken on some crazy jobs, just to pay the bills.”

  “Maybe,” Tasha said, a groove of consideration between her brows. “But if that’s the case, I could get a job. I could make enough to cover my own spending money.”

  “Parents are funny like that,” Megan chipped in. “They don’t want to worry us, so they pretend everything’s okay and make things harder on themselves.”

  “And in the long run, it ends up affecting us anyway,” Bethani agreed. She took a sniff of the air. “Mmm. Smells like Mr. de already started breakfast.”

  Brash and Blake were already at work when the girls walked into the kitchen. Blake broke eggs into a large mixing bowl, while Brash dipped thick slices of bread into a concoction in the smaller bowl. Notes of cinnamon, vanilla, and coffee floated on the air.

  “Smells delish in here!” Megan announced.


  Blake looked up from his task, his eyes immediately seeking out Tasha. When he saw her without her dark makeup and her usual uninspired clothes, he almost dropped the egg he held.

  Bethani sashayed up beside her twin and whispered so that no one else could hear, “I like my eggs without drool, thank you very much. Pull it together, twin.” She bumped him in the arm and went on to the refrigerator, where she retrieved the container of orange juice.

  “Good morning, ladies. Sleep well?” Brash asked in his warm baritone.

  “Morning,” Megan said, brushing her father’s cheek with a kiss. “Slept great. Would’ve still been snoozing, if you hadn’t sent me that text.” She narrowed her eyes in playful accusation.

  “I figured as much. Why don’t you and Tasha set the table? There’s seven of us.”

  “Mom’s already home?” Bethani asked in surprise, her eyes flying toward the door.

  “Not yet. Cutter is joining us for breakfast.”

  Tasha’s eyes went wide. “Cutter Montgomery, the hot fireman?” Blake didn’t miss the note of awe that slipped into her voice.

  Ignoring the girl’s dazed reaction, Megan did a visual count of the room. “That’s only one more. That makes six.”

  Brash expertly flipped a slice of French toast. His voice sounded casual as he said, “I invited Tasha’s dad to join us.”

  The dark-haired girl had been exchanging shy glances with Blake, but she stiffened at the news. “He works on Saturdays,” she said.

  “He took off to join us.”

  “He did?” From her tone, it was obvious she didn’t know whether to be flattered or frightened. Her father seldom took a day off work, least of all for her. How angry would he be when he arrived?

  “Sure did. I’ve known your father for several years. I was sorry to see him step down as a road commissioner, but I admired how he put his daughter before his career. He’s a man after my own heart.” Brash sent his daughter a warm smile before sneaking a peek at the purple-haired girl. Her brow puckered in confusion, as if she had considered the possibility for the first time.