by Jeff Shelby
“I always want to say hello,” she said, sounding a little miffed. “But, yes, there’s a reason.”
I waited. “Which is...?”
“I wanted to tell you in person but since you moved a hundred miles away, it makes it a little harder.”
I felt a pang of guilt but quickly pushed it aside. If it were up to my daughter, I’d be living in the house right next door to her. She’d been devastated when I sold my house in Arlington and moved to Latney. But Laura was an adult, with a home and a career of her own, not a child. My life was mine, and I didn’t owe it to her or Luke to stay somewhere I didn’t want to be.
“What did you want to tell me?” I asked. With Laura, it could be anything: she tried out a new recipe, it was going to storm later that night, she heard about a flu virus going around and it was worrying her. She could make a mountain out of any molehill she came across if she felt like doing it.
“Connor proposed.”
I was glad I’d pulled over to the side of the road. “What?”
She let out a breathy laugh. “I know we’ve been together forever, and we’ve been talking about getting married for ages so it’s not like it’s huge news. But he gave me a ring today and made it official. So I just wanted to let you know.”
Tears sprang to my eyes and my smile stretched from ear to ear. “Oh, honey, congratulations! When is the big day?”
“I don’t know yet,” she said. “There are a million things to figure out, but I just went to the store on my lunch break and picked up every bridal magazine they have, and I told Connor we needed to start looking for reception sites and interviewing photographers and tasting cakes and all that.”
I stifled a laugh. I was sure Laura’s to-do list was already a mile long.
“I’m so happy for you!”
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m happy, too.” There was a slight pause. “Do you want to know how he proposed?”
“Of course.”
“There was a spring concert this morning with some of my students in it. He somehow arranged for them to sing “My Girl” as their last song. I thought it was a bit of an odd choice, but then he came out from backstage with a bouquet of flowers. He walked right up to me and got down on one knee and asked me to marry him.”
Tears sprang to my eyes. “That’s so beautiful. I wish I had been there to see it.”
“Me, too,” Laura said. “My friend Kate filmed it. I guess everyone was in on it but me.”
I wiped my cheeks. “That’s just wonderful,” I said. “How romantic.”
“Yeah,” Laura said, a little unconvincingly. “I mean, it was super romantic and I’m totally happy but I can’t believe Connor took time off work to do it. He had to take half a PTO day.”
I stifled a laugh. Leave it to my daughter to focus on this.
“So, anyway, I just wanted to tell you. Maybe Connor and I can come down on Sunday and I can show you the ring. If you don’t have any more...appointments.”
And we were right back where we started. “I’ll be sure not to schedule any errands or appointments,” I told her. “Especially if you’re coming.”
I hung up, my eyes still moist. My smile felt like it was permanently etched on my face. Our conversation had started out rocky but that had all changed when she told me her good news. I was thrilled for Laura, and for Connor, too. They were a good match, far better than her father and I had ever been. Connor was patient with her anxieties and worries, but he also knew when she needed a swift kick in the rear. They enjoyed each other’s company and they liked doing things together. Their relationship was built on a rock solid friendship, which was just about as strong of a foundation as one could have.
I took a couple of deep breaths and tried to bring my focus back from wedded bliss to the task at hand. My goal right now needed to be to find the missing statue—and possibly Kenny—let Mikey know, and then close the books on this once and for all.
But to do that, I needed to find Lance Larson’s property.
I decided the best thing to do—the only thing to do, really—was to start driving down driveways. I didn’t know for sure, but I thought it would be highly unlikely for every single property on the road to have multiple outbuildings. Sure, there might be barns and sheds, but Dawn specifically said Lance’s property had several pole barns. If I started with the first driveway I passed, I could drive down it and at least feel like I was making progress.
I pulled away from the shoulder and back on to the road, then made a quick left on to the first driveway. Gravel crunched under my tires and the canopy of leaves from the trees lining the drive provided instant shade, forcing me to shift my sunglass up on to my head.
A wave of disappointment washed over me as soon as the buildings on the property came into view. A single farmhouse, freshly painted white with red trim, was the only structure visible. It looked lived in, with a newly cut lawn and pruned azalea bushes planted underneath the windows. A red tricycle was parked on the sidewalk, and sheets pinned to a clothesline waved in the breeze.
This did not look like the property Dawn described.
I hit the brakes, then did my best to maneuver a three-point turn on the narrow drive. The bumper of my car grazed the brush and vines along the side of the driveway as I did so, and I had a moment of panic when the front of the car seemed an inch away from nose-diving into the ditch. But a hard turn to the left and I was centered back on the driveway, the car pointing in the direction of the road.
The second driveway was a good two hundred feet away, and I hesitated before turning down it. There was a shiny red mailbox in front, which certainly didn’t line up with Dawn’s description. My foot tapped the brake, bringing the car to a crawl. Did I waste my time checking or did I keep going?
I gazed down the road. From what I could see, there were only two more driveways on the left side of the road before the woods took over. Better to just check this one since I was there and cross it off the list.
I rounded the corner of the driveway and almost instantly, my heart skipped a beat. A house came into view, a two-story with faded yellow paint and green shutters framing the windows. And just beyond that, a hundred yards or so away, was a trio of pole barns.
I pressed down on the brake, bringing the car to a stop, my eyes glued to the buildings in front of me. The mailbox wasn’t right, according to Dawn’s description, but the outbuildings were.
Could one of those barns have the cow statue hidden inside? Or a kidnapping victim?
I swallowed against the lump that was quickly forming in the back of my throat as a new thought crossed my mind. Could one of those buildings also have the person responsible for these crimes lurking inside?
Because I suddenly realized that not only was I alone, but I hadn’t bothered to tell anyone where I was going, either. The only person who knew where I was headed was the one person who couldn’t care less about me or my safety.
Dawn Putnam.
I thought about calling Laura back but dismissed the idea just as quickly. First and foremost, I’d told her I was running an errand, not hunting down stolen property and a kidnapping victim. If I admitted what I was really doing, she’d probably have a heart attack...and then promptly mobilize the National Guard and the local SWAT team. If there was one.
But calling her was also a bad idea logistically because, as she liked to point out, she was a hundred miles away. If I truly found myself in danger, there wasn’t much she would be able to do about it.
I could call Mikey, but there were problems with this choice, too. I didn’t want to get his hopes up, not when he was the person most affected by the theft and the kidnapping. The only phone call I wanted to make to Mikey was the one telling him that I’d found the statue and that the ransom money was no longer needed.
I could call Sheriff Lewis...
I almost laughed out loud.
No.
If Declan had been in town, he would have been the obvious choice. I told him nearly everything
, and he’d often been the person I would turn to when mulling things over or trying to make sense of things. He was coming back to Latney, and soon, but he wasn’t here now.
I swallowed again. There was one other person I could call, the person who always seemed to offer a helping hand right when I needed it, and sometimes whether I liked it or not.
Gunnar.
Even as I made the decision, my finger poised to hit his name in my contacts, I hesitated. Yes, I’d told Gunnar about the statue and the kidnapping, but if he knew I was traipsing around Lance’s property uninvited, hunting for evidence, he would probably have a few choice words for me. And then he’d tell me to wait for him.
I glanced at the buildings again. I didn’t have time to wait. Every minute that passed was a minute closer to the grand opening of the restaurant, the grand opening that was in jeopardy of not even happening. And every passing minute might also spell danger for Kenny.
I needed to act now.
I steered the car to the edge of the drive and stepped out, my phone still clutched in my hand. A hawk perched on a telephone line eyed me as I leaned back into the car to grab my purse, almost as if it were contemplating me as its next meal. It spread its wings and screeched, then took flight directly above me. I ducked, fully expecting it to drop low and sink its talons into me but it kept going, arcing above me before diving into the woods.
I shut the door with a shaking hand and glanced at the phone. A quick call. I needed to make a quick call and tell Gunnar where I was. I would tell him I was at Lance’s to ask a few questions, but I wouldn’t tell him what Dawn had told me. At least someone would know where I was if things went...not the way I wanted them to go.
I took a deep breath and tapped his name on the screen. The call connected and immediately rolled to voicemail, and I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or dismayed. What if something happened and he didn’t listen to it for hours?
When the message finished and the beep sounded, I began to speak.
“Gunnar, it’s Rainy. Listen, I’m out at Lance’s to ask him a few questions. I...I just thought I should tell you where I am.”
It sounded as awkward as I thought it would, but there was no going back and erasing it. I mumbled a quick goodbye and ended the call.
I shoved my phone back in my purse and refocused my gaze on the buildings in front of me. I took a deep breath.
I had the world’s largest cow statue to go and find.
TWENTY FIVE
I was alone.
At least it felt that way. After leaving Gunnar a voicemail and steeling myself for what might lie ahead, I immediately headed toward the pole barns on Lance’s property. But as I walked, it occurred to me that if anyone was at home in the old farmhouse, they would absolutely see me approaching...and would see me continue on by as I made my way to the barns.
This didn’t seem like the best idea, so I darted into the woods that bumped up against the drive and decided to work my way toward the back of the property under the cover of trees. There wasn’t a path, and I zigzagged my way in the direction of the barns. My feet slipped on damp, rotting leaves and the smell of wood rot tickled my nose. The air was thick and damp in the woods, and a lone mosquito buzzed my face and then my ear, reminding me that there were probably hundreds more waiting to sink their needle-like mouths into my flesh. I swatted it away and my hand came back covered in spider webbing. I shivered and wiped it on my jeans, trying to dislodge the sticky strands from my skin.
The house was just visible through the trees and I glanced at it as I trudged through the trees, making sure no one had spotted me. There were no cars parked out front but the door to the attached garage was closed, making it impossible to know if anyone was home. There were no lights on inside, at least none visible, but it was also the middle of the day so I knew this wasn’t a clear indication of anything, either. The backside of the house provided few clues, too: no sign of recent activity, and no real sign that anyone actually lived there, either. The ground level deck was empty: no barbecue, no chairs, no nothing. Two large planters positioned next to the patio door were empty; there wasn’t even a hose attached to the spigot that jutted out from the side of the house.
I slowed my pace, a sense of uneasiness beginning to settle over me. The house looked abandoned. If it was, was I lurking in the woods at the wrong place? Dawn had said Lance’s house had several outbuildings, which this one did. But it didn’t look like anyone was actually living here.
I knew I essentially had two choices. Turn around and get back in my car and drive to the next driveway, one that hopefully had pole barns and also looked occupied. Or keep going and peek into the pole barns here so I could at least know I had been thorough.
I shook my head, fighting the frustration brewing inside of me. Any anxiety or fear I’d experienced earlier was gone. I was now convinced there was nothing here to find, but I knew I needed to see for myself before heading back to the car.
The good news, I told myself, was that if the house was abandoned, I could stop acting like a ninja. I stepped over the brambles that provided a barrier between the woods and the clearing that housed the pole barns and surveyed the scene in front of me.
There were three barns, each a different size and different color. All three sported metal siding, and all three had large garage doors as entry points. Each of them was more than big enough to house the world’s largest cow statue.
I started with the one closest to me, a red-sided building with white garage doors. There was a regular door on the right hand side and I reached for the handle, surprised to find that it wasn’t locked. My heart rate ratcheted up a notch as I turned the handle and pushed the door open. Sunlight filtered into the darkened building, illuminating the dust motes in its rays. I peered inside, bracing myself for what I might find.
My shoulders sagged.
Nothing.
The building was completely empty.
I closed the door. I didn’t want to waste time feeling disappointed. I needed to check the other barns and then get back to the car and keep searching.
I moved to the next pole barn, a gray building with light gray garage doors. There was no door on the side so I went around to the back in search of one. I paused as soon as I saw it. The door was open, just a crack.
I forced my feet to move and tried to rationalize why the door might be open. Maybe the wind had rattled it free. Maybe someone had simply forgotten to shut it.
I could tell the interior of the building was dark, just like the other one. The hair on the back of neck lifted as I made my approach. Not because I thought I’d find what I was looking for, but because I worried what else might be inside. With a door propped open, any manner of wildlife could be lurking inside.
I swallowed, trying to settle my nerves while I contemplated what I might have inside my purse that could be used to defend myself from a wild animal. I knew exactly what was in my purse: my phone, my wallet, a tube of Chap Stick, pocket tissues, and quite possibly every single receipt I’d received since moving to Latney. None of these things would protect me from a rattlesnake or a wild bear; this I knew.
I took a deep breath. More likely than not, the only wildlife I’d find inside were more mosquitos. I shouldered my purse and pushed the door open, wincing as it creaked on its hinges. I poked my head inside, squinting as I scanned the interior.
And then I froze.
Because there, pushed against the back wall of the otherwise empty building, was a massive statue.
I gasped.
It was the cow.
The cow was purple with black spots on its body and with a black leather collar strapped around its neck. A gold ring was affixed to its nose and the insides of its ears were pink. A big smile was plastered on its face.
And it was tipped over on its side, with something pinned under its tail. Or rather, someone.
A prone body, splayed out on the concrete floor. A body that very much looked to be dead.
TWENTY
SIX
I RUSHED INTO THE BUILDING, not even bothering to search for any lights.
I skidded to a stop in front of the body, then crouched down, my heart threatening to pound right out of my chest.
A man was trapped under the cow’s tail, its weight resting squarely across his chest. His eyes were closed and the thick flannel he was wearing made it impossible to tell if he was breathing.
I leaned close to his face and felt warm air brush my skin as he exhaled through his nose.
I slumped forward and breathed a sigh of relief.
At least he wasn’t dead.
I reached out a hand and placed it on the man’s shoulder. “Hey,” I said gently, offering a gentle squeeze. “Are you okay?”
The man groaned and I immediately wondered how bad his injuries were. Did he have busted ribs from the tail pressing into his chest? Internal injuries? How had he gotten trapped in the first place? Who was he?
I jerked my hand back. Maybe this was the thief, and he’d somehow managed to trap himself under the statue. Maybe I shouldn’t offer any assistance, just in case he was the one responsible.
“What happened?” I asked. After a moment’s hesitation, I added, “And who are you?”
The man’s eyes fluttered open. They were brown, a shade lighter than the flannel he was wearing.
“What?” he mumbled, clearly disoriented.
“What happened?” I repeated.
He licked his lips and tried to swallow. “It...it fell on me.”
“How?”
“I don’t know,” he said, his voice raw. “I don’t remember.” He winced. “I...I hit my head on the floor.”
I stared at him. Now that my eyes had adjusted to the dim light, I could see what looked to be telltale signs of a concussion. His eyes were glassy, and I could tell that his eyes were actually blue but his pupils were so large, they appeared almost black.
“You need medical help,” I told him.
I pulled my phone out of my purse to call 911. I didn’t want to move him or offer any type of assistance without knowing what kind of injuries he had, and I was pretty confident that, even if he was the thief, he was in no condition to offer much resistance or threaten me in any way.
