Gilt

by JL Wilson

  "I met him when he and I went to the police academy, in Chicago."

  "Chicago?"

  "Yeah, that's where Diane and I grew up. Jack and I went through the academy together. After Diane and I got married, we moved to Minneapolis. We wanted to get away from family. We both had too many people interfering in our lives. Of course, now that her parents and my parents are gone and the kids have all scattered, I'm wondering what we were running away from." He watched Jack and Amy move effortlessly around the intersection. I wondered if he missed that kind of mobility or if he had come to grips with his disability. "I'm glad we were in Minneapolis when I was shot, though. I had the best surgeons possible at the Mayo Clinic. I'd probably be dead otherwise."

  He spoke about it so easily. John used to talk that way, too, causally discussing running into a burning building or how a wall full of flames almost fell on him. "I don't know how anyone can put their life on the line, day in and day out," I said, thinking aloud. "John loved doing it, though. And you don't sound like you regret it."

  Dan's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Regret it? Of course not."

  "But..." I tried to sum up my confusion. "John could never leave work behind. It was always there, every day. He was never off duty." That wasn't quite what I wanted to say, but it was the best I could manage.

  "I was a cop." Dan leaned over and plucked a piece of grass, letting the pliable stems trickle through his fingers. "I understand him. You're always on the job."

  "That's what I hated," I said. "He never could leave it behind him."

  Dan frowned. "Of course he couldn't. It's who he was, not what he did. In a job like that, you have to let it define you. Otherwise, you die."

  The simple, matter-of-fact words hit me like a hammer. He was right. John was a fireman. That wasn't what he did.

  It's who he was.

  "Once I started talking to you and the people who knew him, that's when I knew this whole thing was a setup," Dan continued, unaware of my epiphany. "A fireman wouldn't put people in danger, any more than a cop would. It would have gone against his principles. Not unless he was a sociopath, and from what others have said, he was anything but that." He laughed briefly. "Listen to me. I'm talking like I know him."

  "But you do," I said. "You might know him better than I did."

  He tilted his head to regard me. "And I get the feeling you understand my wife better than I did. Isn't it weird?"

  I nodded, not sure I wanted to explore that idea any further. "It must have been hard for you to put your police life behind you, after you were hurt."

  "You never quite put it behind you, I guess. That's why I'm here, helping Jack." He glanced quickly at me. "To help you and Jack."

  My stomach dipped. Did he really mean that? I wasn't sure I was ready to know. I turned my attention back to Jack and Amy. "I'm so glad they were able to forgive each other."

  "Jack deserves love in his life." Dan looked away as the dancers swirled past us again. For an instant I glimpsed bewildered pain in his dark brown eyes.

  The song shifted to Slowhand, by the Pointer Sisters. "Ooh, one of my favorite songs. Come on," I said, getting to my feet. "Let's give it a try."

  "I don't think--I'm not sure--"

  I tugged on his arm. "We don't have to be as dramatic. Come on."

  Dan got up, leaning on his cane. "Well, if you're willing to try, I am, too."

  I paused, hearing the implied invitation in his words. Was I? I remembered Amy saying Time is a precious commodity. "I'm willing."

  "Good. So am I." He put his arm around my waist and we edged through the crowd to the intersection. Dan left his cane near the loudspeaker as we joined the fringe of the bobbing and moving couples.

  John and I seldom danced because of the difference in our heights. I didn't realize how marvelous it could be to have a partner like Dan, who was closer to my height. We swayed together, Dan moving awkwardly until it got to the chorus. He leaned back slightly to look at me. "Care to try a twirl?"

  I laughed. "Just don't let me drop." He lifted his arm and I ducked underneath, ending up pressed against him even tighter than before. The streetlights illuminated the scene as did the final rays of the setting sun, the shadows cast by the twenty or so couples moving like additional people around us. I raised my head from Dan's shoulder and peered around us. I couldn't see Jack or Amy, but I suppose they were nearby somewhere. I lowered my face again, inhaling aromas of sweat and faint soap.

  "I don't understand what's happening," I murmured. I wasn't sure if I meant how my heart was pounding so erratically or how I felt. All I knew was that I felt bewildered, bothered, and bewitched. Not a bad feeling.

  "I know," Dan murmured against my ear. "It's like something brought us all here at this moment in time."

  I sighed. How true. It was as though everything had combined to allow me to find him and him to find me.

  "What is the one common factor between Michael Bennington, your husband, your aunt, and Paul Denton?"

  I frowned. So much for my idea of a romantic intersection of fate. Dan was more interested in a criminal intersection of fate. "Besides me, you mean?" I said with a laugh.

  His steps slowed and I slowed with him. "What?"

  "I'm related to Portia and John. I know Paul and Michael." He stopped completely and pulled away from me, staring blankly, his eyes wide. "Hey. I'm joking."

  He rested his hand on my shoulder to steady himself as he turned, staring around the crowded intersection. "Where are they?"

  I put my arm around his waist so he could lean on me as he continued to twist and turn. "What is it? What's wrong?"

  "It's not only you. It's Amy."

  "What about Amy?" His anxiety was starting to affect me. I peered through the crowd, looking for Jack and Amy, but it was full darkness now and my eyes hadn't yet adjusted to the streetlights that lit the scene.

  "It was Amy's son who was killed, along with Nesbitt's son. It was Nesbitt's brother who was arrested and then died two years ago. It was Amy's brother who was killed in the fire. It was Nesbitt's other son who died last year in Kansas."

  "What?" I gaped at him. "Amy's brother?"

  "The re-opened investigation brought Amy here and Jack here." Dan started limping toward the speakers, which were now blaring a song by the Eagles. The Long Run. How ironic. Dan said something over his shoulder but I couldn't hear as I hurried after him. He snatched his cane and edged through the people lining the dance area, his gaze snapping right and left.

  "What is it?" I said, finally catching up to him.

  "This was all about Jack," he said. "They wanted to get Jack someplace where they could kill the person he loves." He stopped and stared back at the brightly lit square. "Amy."

  Chapter 16

  "Are you sure?" I demanded. "That doesn't make sense, does it? You said they were businessmen. Revenge shouldn't be a--"

  "I need to find Jack. Stay here. If I'm not back in twenty minutes, go to your mom's house. Don't go back to the farm alone." Dan strode up the courthouse sidewalk, weaving his way through people standing there. Before I could follow him, he was already gone from sight, swallowed by the crowd.

  I glanced at my watch. Nine-thirty. I'd give him until ten and then...then I would do what? What could I do? I peered around me, trying to find the chief of police but he, too, was gone. Even if I saw the chief, what would I do? Go to him and say, "Hey, I'm worried. Dan is gone and Jack is gone and I think maybe Amy is in trouble."

  I went to the courthouse and climbed on the steps, the height advantage helping me as I peered over the crowd. Someone had switched on a bright spotlight that created dense shadows around the perimeter of the dance area. I scanned the faces in the crowd but I didn't spy Jack or Amy. I saw someone who might have been the woman I saw earlier with the police chief, but she was partially turned away from me and I couldn't be sure. No one around here was tall with that distinctive head of white hair, so even if it was her, it appeared he wasn't nearby.

 
I moved to the far side of the dance area and wandered around the perimeter of the entire space as Aretha Franklin then Train then Joe Cocker sang to the crowd. I was starting a second loop when my back pocket thumped. I extracted my iPhone and checked the display. Unknown number. I hurried past the me-high speakers and the food booths, stopping when I got to the east side of the courthouse where Dan and I had sat moments before. "This is Genny," I said breathlessly when I found a relatively quiet spot.

  "I'm so glad you answered," a wavering voice said. "This is Aunt Portia. I need you to do something for me."

  "I'm sorry I didn't get there to visit this afternoon," I said. "I got busy."

  "This is very important," she interrupted. "Upstairs in my safe you'll find three envelopes. Take them and hide them."

  "Say what?" I moved farther away from the dance area and pressed the phone harder against my ear, not sure I had heard correctly. "Hide them?"

  "It's very important. Will you do that for me? Go upstairs, get the envelopes and hide them."

  "I'm not--" No use telling the old lady I wasn't home. It would probably make her feel bad to ask such a favor. I glanced at my watch. Fifteen minutes had passed. Close enough. "Okay, will do. Anything else? Is there a problem?"

  "I'm worried about Michael," she said. "Make sure Michael doesn't get his envelope." Her voice lowered to a dramatic whisper. "I don't trust him."

  "Join the crowd," I muttered. I glanced to my left. The parking lot was only a half-block away. "I'll do it now, Aunt Portia. I'll come tomorrow to visit, okay?"

  "Good. Thank you, Genny. I knew I could count on you."

  I clicked the End button. A blinking red light near the top of the device told me I needed to get it charged. I turned it off and stuffed the phone in my back pocket before pulling my car keys from my front pocket. I would run home, grab the envelopes and head over to Penny's house. What better place to hide something than in my mother's overstuffed bookcase?

  Pleased with that logic, I made my way through the foot traffic and managed to maneuver my car from its tight parking space. Ten minutes later, I headed over the river to the farmhouse. The moon hung fat and yellow in the sky, casting odd camera-negative shadows over everything. I rolled down my window part-way and let the damp evening air fill the car. Nature's air conditioning, I thought. It would be pleasant sleeping weather tonight with the light breeze blowing off the fields. It would be such a change from urban sleeping with the sounds of cars in the distance and the faint odor of warm concrete as it cooled at night.

  No hanky-panky tonight, not with Amy in the next room. I felt an odd mixture of relief and disappointment at the thought. Of course, maybe Amy and Jack were somewhere together. They had a lot of catching up to do. I grinned, remembering the sight of them dancing together. What a pretty couple. It was all so romantic.

  Such thoughts kept my mind occupied as I drove to the farm. When I got there, I parked near the side door, beside the pantry opposite the kitchen. That was the fastest way to Portia's bedroom, rather than parking in my usual spot near the garage. I went inside and navigated through the dining room aided by the lights we had left on in the living room and kitchen.

  I took the steps at top speed to Portia's room, turning on the light in her closet so I didn't stumble over anything. It took me two tries to get the safe open, but finally I managed it. I extracted the envelopes and slammed the safe shut before dousing the lights and going through the hall and into my guest room. I plugged my phone into its charger before shutting out the lights.

  As I did, two cars turned off the highway and came down the lane, headlights wavering on the bumpy gravel. They drove so closely together that at first I thought it was one car with multiple lights. The cars pulled to a stop near the garage.

  I didn't recognize the big boxy dark SUV, the big black sedan, or the two big men who hopped out of each. At first glance, they were like identical twins, each with cropped sandy hair, linebacker chests in tight polo shirts, and stocky, heavy legs. The one near the SUV turned and I saw he was older, his face more weathered. They both reached for the door handles on their respective vehicles at the same time, like synchronized bodyguards. Bodyguards? I leaned forward, staring through the window screen as Jack emerged from the sedan and slowly stood upright, hands up.

  "What the hell?" I muttered.

  Then I saw the guns, glinting as the yard light illuminated the scene. Each of the big thug-types had a gun. One was pointed at Jack and the other...I leaned forward as Dan exited the SUV behind the sedan, holding on to the door and swaying slightly as though trying to get his balance. He reached behind him for his cane and leaned heavily on it, his right hand on the cane and the other hand clutching the edge of the SUV door frame. He looked exhausted, his shoulders slumped and his body somehow collapsed and smaller.

  The thug gestured with the gun and Dan limped forward two steps before leaning against the SUV, obviously at the end of his rope. "Holy crap," I breathed. I was lucky the screen was there, otherwise I would have pitched forward at their feet.

  Amy emerged from the back of the SUV then to my astonishment, Candace Denton followed her. She wore brown slacks and a dressy brown top. She was taken when she drove home from work. The poor kid was probably still in her work clothes. Amy put an arm around her and Candace huddled against her as the two women moved forward to join Jack near the back of the sedan.

  Jack, hands still raised, said something to the man watching Dan. The man stared impassively, no sign of intelligence on his broad, slightly glistening face. Dan swayed again, finally edging back to the open door of the SUV and sitting, shaking his head as he leaned over to put his face on his arm that rested on his cane.

  The bulky man nearest Jack leaned toward the sedan and listened to someone inside. He gestured with his gun, urging Dan toward the garage. Dan got to his feet, limping toward the garage, taking one shaky step at a time. The other gunman leveled his gun at Jack's head and said something. Amy and Candace immediately started toward the barn in the distance, Amy hesitating as she passed Jack, fright evident on her face. The man guarding Jack put a hand on Jack's shoulder and pushed him after the women.

  "Holy crap," I whispered again. I eyed my cell phone, sitting on the dresser with the red light showing it was charging. Guns meant call police as far as I was concerned. I was turning toward the phone when the front passenger door on the sedan opened and a short man emerged, shoulders hunched as though he expected a blow. I froze as he slammed the car door and stared at the barn in the distance and the people there. His gaze swept around the whole farmyard before going to the house. I dodged back from the window and promptly hit my head on the lower part with a painful klunk.

  "Ow." I said it quietly but was I quiet enough? I ducked below the sill then hesitantly peeked over it to check if I was heard. The man still stared at the lower floors of the house and now he had a gun in his hand, too. Dan leaned against the garage door, watching Jack and the others moving toward the barn. They were almost out of my sight from this angle, all of them still moving carefully over the compacted gravel of the yard with the gunman behind them, his pistol or whatever-it-was inches from the back of Jack's head. The sedan thug said something to the car-man who stood indecisively near the car, eyes going to the house then the barn as though not sure what to do.

  Dan said something to him and the man flinched. As he turned, the yard light shone on his face and I saw that he had thinning hair and casual clothes that hung on a wasted, frail-looking body. He was older than I initially thought, probably in his late sixties or seventies. The thug said something and the man nodded and got back into the sedan, which immediately began to inch forward, following the other people to the barn.

  Damn. I disconnected my cell phone from the charging cable and jammed it in my pocket as I raced from the bedroom, careful to avoid the squeaky floorboards in the center of the hall. I hesitated, considering Portia's bedroom. I knew she had a phone in there but I wasn't sure where. With my luck, I'd tri
p over it in the dark and send the phone and its table crashing. Better to try my luck downstairs.

  I tiptoed down the stairs, clinging to the rail and the edge of the riser where I was certain no squeaks lived. At the bottom of the steps, I crouched low to scuttle through the living room. The only telephone in the room sat in front of the window that overlooked the garage. I couldn't use that one nor could I hope to get to the one in the kitchen without being seen. Lights still shone in each spot and that would surely give me away. I abandoned the idea of an interior telephone and cautiously opened the side door.

  I paused on the concrete stoop to take a shaky breath, gulping in chilled night air. On my right, I caught a glimpse of the barn through the branches of the lilacs that surrounded the back porch. Headlights from the sedan combined with the yard light and the moon to make the area seem almost as bright as day. Shadows moved but I couldn't see specific shapes.

  Now what? I didn't dare drive away even though my car sat there, a few feet away. I pulled out my cell phone and stared hopefully at the display. Did those few seconds of charging give me enough power?

  Nope. The display flickered on then the big power indicator cylinder shone on the screen with the red zone highlighted before flickering off again. Once that line moved into the red zone, nothing could be done. I turned it off and slid it back into my pocket. So much for high technology. I considered my other options.

  The closest farm was at least a half-mile away and I wasn't confident in my navigating ability through a ripe cornfield at night. If I moved in the other direction, I'd end up at the barn where at least two men had guns. I considered going back, toward the road. But that would expose me to view of the man who was guarding Dan. Neither option was appealing, especially because I didn't know what was happening. I tiptoed forward, crouching under the lilac bushes. They were thick enough that I had to bob and weave to glimpse what was happening which was annoying but also comforting since it meant I probably wouldn't be seen.

  Amy and Candace were tugging at the side door on the old red barn. It groaned when the rusty hinges creaked open. That barn probably hadn't been used in at least five years if not more. Portia quit keeping livestock a decade earlier and the tenant who farmed the fields now only used the barn for storage in the winter. They would be lucky if the entire roof didn't come down. Amy and Candace vanished inside. Jack followed a few seconds later, hands still high, illuminated by the headlights from the car.