A Hoe Lot of Trouble

by Heather Webber

  Had Tim really killed his father, shot at his mother? Killed Demming?

  Oh God. Oh God. He had.

  I banged my head against the back of the seat. I was so incredibly, stupidly blind.

  Demming must have contacted Tim, convinced him to help get his parents to sell. Tim was Demming's partner in crime. But why kill Demming?

  And Chanson's offer? And the Eminent Domain? If Chanson had sent those offers to Tim, if Tim was acting as his mother's lawyer . . . It made sense. He simply hadn't told his mother of them, hoping she'd sell before they became an issue.

  But I wasn't sure. Couldn't be sure until I knew for a fact Tim was his mother's lawyer.

  Eying the street, I spotted a pay phone in a Walgreen's lot and pulled in. It took some time and many quarters, but I finally got hold of Mrs. Sandowski in the ER.

  I didn't have time to beat around the bush. "Is Tim your lawyer?"

  "What?"

  "Is Tim your lawyer?" I asked, louder.

  "Actually, no. Bridget is. Do you want to talk to Timmy? He's here. I got ahold of him after I called you. I called you back but you'd already left."

  I sucked in a deep breath, fighting a sudden wave of nausea. The knuckles on my hand were white from gripping the metal cord. "No."

  Twenty-eight

  I parked in Mr. Cabrera's driveway, tossed him the keys as he pretended to weed his garden, and ran up the steps to the house two at a time.

  It was 1:45. Riley was due any minute.

  The wooden porch steps creaked as I bounded up them. First things first: Call Kevin, I told myself. I had tried to get ahold of him after I spoke to Mrs. Sandowski, but he was still out in the field. It was just like him to disappear when I needed him most.

  I threw open my front door and froze mid-step, nearly tumbling face forward onto the floor.

  Bridget was sitting on the couch, pointing a gun at my chest.

  "Bridget?" I had to ask to be sure. Her stomach was now flat, not even a love handle. The possibility of an evil twin popped into my mind. Hey, it happened in soap operas.

  Her hand shook as she motioned behind me. "Close the door, Nina."

  I closed it.

  "Please sit."

  I sat.

  Ever so obedient, that's me. Nina Colette Obedient Ceceri Quinn.

  I'd been fighting with myself the whole way home. That there must have been some mistake, that there was no way Bridget could be involved in any of this. I'd known her forever. Then some. But the woman I was looking at now was not the little girl who'd shared her purple grapes with me in kindergarten.

  A hunted wild look had taken root in her red-rimmed, tear-stained eyes. "I didn't want it to come to this. I told you to back out of it."

  My throat tightened, my stomach hurt. Moisture stung my eyes. Who was this woman? Where was the Bridget I knew? Loved?

  She sniffled. "But now, now you know too much."

  "I don't understand, Bridget."

  With the back of her hand, she wiped her leaking nose. "No one does, Nina. Not you. Not Tim. Not anyone."

  I inhaled. My pulse pounded, causing blood to rush through my ears. I cleared my throat of its sudden frog, managed to say through a choked voice, "What have you done?"

  My stomach turned, twisted. Farmer Joe. Oh dear God. I wrapped my hands around my middle, held on tight.

  A tear slipped down her cheek. "What I needed to do."

  Tears pooled in my eyes. I couldn't wrap my brain around what was happening. "Why?"

  "I was going to lose him." Her lower lip trembled. "After all we'd been through, he was going to leave me."

  "Tim?"

  She nodded. Her finger still rested on the trigger of the gun. "He wanted a baby. A baby I couldn't give him." Swiping at her eyes, she rocked back and forth. "I had to do something."

  I struggled to find something to say, to keep her talking, to understand. "Why didn't you and Tim adopt?"

  "You know why."

  Tim. Bridget had once mentioned how Tim wanted his own child, to carry on the Sandowski bloodline.

  A dull ache pulsed inside my head. This was just too hard to comprehend . . . beyond all reasoning. "So you faked a pregnancy?"

  "I had to!"

  I leaned forward. "But Bridget, didn't Tim notice? How could he not?"

  Color drained from her face. "He doesn't touch me anymore, Nina."

  "But what about doctor's appointments? That ultrasound picture?"

  She brushed the tears from her cheeks. They were quickly replaced. "I made sure he was out of town the days I had appointments, and that picture was easy enough to download."

  A tight throat made it hard to talk. "Where were you planning to get a baby?"

  Her rocking was making me dizzy. "Private adoption. Black market. Online listings to buy babies."

  Realization hit me hard. "But you needed money."

  Fresh tears streamed down her face. "Yes."

  "Money you could have gotten if Tim's parents had sold their land?"

  Rocking, she nodded, the gun still aimed my way. "I had time, almost eight months. I figured they'd sell soon enough. Who wouldn't?"

  I couldn't fault her reasoning on that score. I'd thought the same thing.

  "But months went by, Nina. And nothing. Nothing at all. They turned down offers left and right. Millions!"

  In my head, I could see Bridget calculating how many babies that money would buy. Nausea roiled.

  "I had to do something, something fast. Chanson sent me, as the Sandowski attorney, an offer for three and a half million. Dutifully, I sent him the refusal, just as I sent all the others refusals as well. But desperation was setting in."

  I had a million questions, but I didn't want to interrupt her. She seemed intent on letting it all out.

  "I came up with a plan. I went to Demming, made a deal with him. If I got Tim's parents to sell, he'd make sure I was compensated. I thought they'd sell quickly if they knew the lengths the buyers were willing to go to get the land. So I organized the phone calls, the letters—"

  "You broke in here." I thought back to the day Mr. Cabrera had seen the skulker at my house. It would have been easy to mistake Bridget for a man if she wore deceiving clothing. With her height and build, and absence of a pregnant tummy, I could see it easily.

  "Your door was unlocked. Not very safe."

  I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. This just wasn't happening. I looked up. "Why kill Joe, Bridget?"

  "The county sent me a letter about the eminent domain."

  "I—" I struggled to voice my horror.

  "My time was running out, Nina. The threats weren't working. If anything, it made Tim's parents more stubborn. Something drastic needed to be done. And Joe was dying, slowly, every day. It broke all our hearts to see him that way. Ending his life was an act of kindness. I told him I brought some herbal tea that would make him feel better. He was happy, Nina. Grateful."

  Oh God. Oh dear God. My hand felt clammy as I pressed it to my lips, keeping my horror in.

  "And the thermos?"

  "Easy enough to follow the lab tech and lift the thermos from the backseat when he made a stop." She shook her head. "It was ridiculously easy. Tim would probably be able to get many convictions overturned if he knew just how easy it was."

  Tim. I covered my mouth. Mentally, I sent him a huge apology and scolded myself for not going to the police sooner. I wasn't a detective, far from it, and what in the world made me think I could help? Seemed all I'd done was make things worse.

  It took effort, but I pushed aside my past with Bridget, focused on numbing myself. "And Demming? Why kill him when you needed his money?"

  "When Joe died, I'd come up with a plan to frame Demming for the death. I'd been slowly framing him all along. Leaving the rat poison at his constructions sites, using pay phones near his house, his business . . . I'd warned him about not meeting with you, but you ended up fooling him anyway, as it turns out. He wasn't pleased you duped him. Afte
r you told me you were going back there, I gave him the heads-up, and I waited nearby. It was the perfect time to get rid of him."

  Still reeling from the fact that she had set me up, I said, "Still, with him dead, you wouldn't get the money."

  "No, but Chanson's six and a half million was still on the table, and I figured that with everything that had happened, Tim's mom wouldn't hesitate to sell to the congressman. That, and Joe's case would be closed—Demming pinned for the murder."

  The mantel clock ticked. I didn't think I could become more repulsed, but then all the pieces fell into place in my head.

  "You wanted Demming to kill me."

  She shook her head. "No, but it was a risk I was willing to take."

  "Did you plan on me taking the rap for his death?"

  "Actually, I thought the suspicion would fall on the congressman, where everything would be swept under the rug, and we'd all live happily ever after."

  Except Joe. And Demming.

  My brain had gone numb with all this information. "And the night you tried to force me off the road?"

  "It was a warning."

  "I don't think the train thought so."

  Her eyebrows dipped. "You're here, aren't you?"

  I didn't want to remind her that she was holding a gun on me. "And Tim's mom this morning?"

  "Even after all that had happened, culminating in your little accident, she didn't want to sell the farm. So I upped the ante."

  "But to shoot at her?"

  "I shot the window. Not her. She wasn't hurt."

  "She's at the hospital. Tim's with her."

  Bridget jumped to her feet, panic etching her features. "She wasn't supposed to get hurt."

  Oh, that made it okay.

  "Is she all right?"

  I couldn't reconcile this Bridget, the one who actually cared about her mother-in-law's well-being with the Bridget who would kill a man to cover her rear. Confusion laced my tone. "Flying glass."

  Anger pierced her gaze. She lifted her arm, leveling the gun. "You were supposed to stop investigating! Stop nosing into things. But no. You had to go and hack into my computer records! Imagine my surprise when I tried to sign on but someone was using my account. Knowing how nosy you are, and your inane suspicions about Tim, it didn't take much for me to figure out you were behind it. If you had just stayed out of this, everything would be okay!"

  Computer records? Suddenly, I wished that I had returned Tam's call right away. It hit me like a knock upside the head what she had found. The baby search. If I had known sooner . . .

  She looked around, tears streaming. "It's time."

  I swallowed. "For what?"

  Big ice blue eyes blinked at me. "Life's just been too tough for you lately. Oh yes, I know all about Kevin. You just can't bear to live without him."

  So she was going to make my death look like a suicide. I dropped my head, vowing to myself that I would never again fall victim to a sob story of any kind, even when I'd known the person a lifetime. I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. Xena slithered out from under the couch.

  My gaze jumped up to Bridget's. Apparently she hadn't noticed the boa coiled near her ankles. Looking down, I noticed Xena looked quite intimidating for a snake that had been on the lam for over a week. Thick, fat. Hideous. I shuddered.

  Using the gun, she motioned me to my feet. "Up."

  "I could scream, you know," I pointed out.

  "You wouldn't."

  Opening my mouth wide, I hollered. It was loud, blood curdling, and felt really, really good.

  Bridget pointed the gun in my face, her finger resting on the trigger. I stopped screaming. Her hand was shaking so hard, I was afraid she'd shoot by accident.

  "Don't do that again."

  Ohh-kay.

  "Let's go."

  "Where?" I asked, taking a step back, away from Xena as she wound her way toward me.

  "Bathroom, I guess. Wouldn't want to make a mess."

  Outside, a car door slammed. A surge of fear flooded through me. Riley! I'd totally forgotten about Riley.

  Terror took over. He couldn't come in here. With her frame of mind, I wouldn't put it past Bridget to shoot first, ask questions later.

  Thankfully, she didn't appear to have heard the door. I went in the direction she motioned. The longer I could keep Bridget away from Riley, the better.

  Bridget was out and out crying. "I don't want to do this, really I don't. But I can't lose Tim. I can't. He's all I have." Grabbing my arm, she took a step, her foot landing on Xena.

  Bridget shrieked.

  Xena straightened, struck out. I shoved Bridget hard and she toppled onto the couch. I took off running, hitting the stairs two at a time. A gunshot echoed. I prayed Riley had enough sense not to come in after hearing it.

  I ran to my bedroom, closed the door, and locked it. My hands were shaking as I felt under my mattress for the key to Kevin's nightstand. Latching onto it, I pulled it out. Bridget pounded at the door. A few seconds later, she shot at the lock. Miraculously, it held.

  Shoving the key into the lock, I opened the drawer, reached inside for Kevin's gun.

  Another shot rang out. I ducked as wood splintered. I could hear Bridget's sobs through the door.

  The ammunition was in a small combination safe in the drawer. My bandaged hand kept slipping off the dial before I finally got it open.

  Another shot. My door swung open.

  Bridget stepped into the room, nearly doubled over, she was crying so hard. "I don't want to do this. Please know that."

  As she raised her arm, I reared back and chucked Kevin's gun at her head just as a shot rang out behind her. Bridget crumpled to the floor.

  My heart hammered somewhere near my carotid artery as I spotted Riley standing in the doorway, a pistol hanging off the end of his forefinger.

  His blue eyes stared at me in shock. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do."

  I jumped up and kicked both guns away from Bridget's prone body. Then I held out my hand for Riley's pistol. He handed it over. I put my arm around him, felt him shaking. I kissed his forehead.

  Bridget moaned on the floor, holding her bleeding head.

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs. I turned in time to see Kevin round the corner into the hall with what seemed like the whole police force behind him.

  I handed the pistol over to Kevin. He tucked it in his waistband and took Riley in his arms. He looked from Bridget to his son, a panicked question in his eyes.

  "She wasn't shot," I said.

  Riley's eyes widened. "But I fired . . ."

  Kevin checked the gun's ammo. "Blanks."

  "Thank God," I murmured.

  Bridget sat up as EMTs pushed passed us. She had an oozing gun-sized welt on her forehead, and blood trickled from her nose.

  "Who shot the snake?" I heard someone yell up the stairs.

  "Xena?" Riley barreled down the steps.

  "Bridget must've shot her," I said to no one in particular as I followed him down.

  A uniformed officer held Xena out. She hung limply, an ugly wound marring her smooth skin. "I think it's too late."

  Riley gulped air.

  My heart broke for him. I had to do something. "Give her to me." I held out my arms.

  The officer alternately stared at the limp reptile in his hands and at me.

  "Give her to me. We've got to get her to the vet's."

  "Nina, there's no point . . ." Kevin put his hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it away. If Riley cared enough about me to shoot someone to protect me, then I could damn well make sure to do my best to save the pet he loved.

  "Give. Her. To. Me. Now."

  The officer handed her to me. She was limp, her thick body seeming lifeless. She was softer than I imagined. I had been thinking sandpaper where she was more rose petals.

  I handed her to Riley. "Go get in Mr. Cabrera's car."

  "You can't leave, Nina."

  I turned to Kevin. Tears burned the inside of my e
yelids. "She needs a doctor." My voice was thick, syrupy. It came from a place deep in my soul.

  "Let me drive," he finally said.

  "No. I'll do it."

  "Nina, you're shaking."