“I’ve got to get going.”
After I thanked Frida and she left I read over all the descriptions. They could have fit half of America. Black, Latinx, Caucasian, tall, short, jeans, slacks, leggings. A few tattooed arms, too far away to see the detail of what they were. Red Sox hoodie, plaid flannel shirt, white button-down, sleeves rolled up, pink dress, blue tee. Three women and two men.
I set the notebook aside and looked up Louisa Crane on my phone. She had a Facebook account, but her privacy settings were high, so I couldn’t see anything she’d posted. Her profile picture was an avatar of a crane—the bird, not the piece of construction equipment. I tapped my finger on my thigh while I thought about it. The last name seemed familiar. I tried again, typing “Crane” and “crime.”
Louisa Crane’s nephew had attempted to kidnap a baby at the mall. All I had done was stick my foot out to trip him. Then I had caught the baby as the nephew fell. That had happened about eighteen months ago. The nephew should still be in jail. Was that really reason enough to resent me? To do this to me? I had no choice but to try to figure that out. If Louisa was the one doing this, either she had help or she could change her voice.
Another thought occurred to me, and I searched for how to change your voice. There were plenty of articles that went from the ridiculous, with a suggestion to purse your lips when you talk, to the frightening, like apps that you can download to disguise your voice.
In that case it would be easy for a woman to be behind Stella’s kidnapping. My phone rang. It was a blocked number. I tensed as I answered.
“I hope you are having a pleasant day, Sarah.”
“As you can imagine, with Stella kidnapped, I’m not.”
“‘Kidnapped’ is such a harsh word. Borrowed? Held?”
“And you almost got me killed last night at the cemetery.”
“Tsk, tsk. That would be a devastating blow to the town.”
“Wow. A comedian and a criminal.” I don’t know what had gotten into me to speak to him this way. It probably wasn’t doing Stella any good.
He laughed, but it was a maniacal sound that wasn’t at all comforting. His grip on sanity sounded very thin. “I have another small task for you.”
I wasn’t in a position to say no. “What?” A train sounded its horn, and I heard the bells that indicated crossing gates were going down. A clue? I tightened my grip on my phone. Maybe not. He could be driving some place. But there was only one place in Ellington with a train track with crossing gates. It was on the far west side of the town. But I had to act calm. Normal. As if nothing had changed. I’d had plenty of practice doing that of late.
“There’s a barn out on the west side of town beyond the hockey rink. I left a package for you. Take it to Alice Krandle. Oh, and do it right now. Have it to her by 8:08.” He disconnected before I could say anything.
There was more than one barn on that side of town. It was already almost six. How was I going to find the package and get it to Alice by 8:08?
Chapter Nineteen
I didn’t like that he was involving my client in this mess or that he knew Alice was a client. Did her earlier call to me have anything to do with it or her garage sale? I drove past the third barn on this side of town. The sun was going down because I’d wasted so much time driving around. The first two barns I had spotted were behind houses with lights on in the house and people in their yards. They didn’t seem like great spots for leaving a package.
I continued to drive around. The next barn I pulled up to was close to the crossing point for the train tracks. It was set back from the road on a piece of land. No houses were close to it. No animals grazed in the field that surrounded it.
I assessed the situation. The land was surrounded by one of the low stone walls so iconic to New England. I’d have to climb over it and tromp through a field to get to the barn. The light was fading rapidly. The field was overgrown with knee-high dried grass, and who knew what could be lurking under it—snakes, spiders, rodents? But it had to be done. I found a place to pull off the road as close to the barn as I could get. But it was still a good fifty yards in front of me.
The wind whistled around me as I swept the darkness with a Maglite flashlight CJ had given me a couple of years ago. Not only did it have a great light, it had a heft to it that gave me some sense of security. Getting hit with this thing would hurt, and it was easier to carry around than the wine bottle that was still in my purse, which I’d left in my car.
I looked down into the ditch I had to cross before I got to the stone wall. Ditches were always deeper than they looked from above and the banks always steeper. I started down, stumbled, and righted myself. Fortunately, the bottom was dry, and climbing the other side was easy. I used the flashlight to sweep for critters but didn’t see any, so I scrambled over the stone wall without dislodging any stones.
I walked through the field toward the barn. The air smelled of dirt and weeds. I heard some skittering noises. Hopefully, it was just the wind on the dry grass. Seconds later my flashlight swept across something metallic. I scanned again and crept closer. It was an old bear trap. Opened, ready to spring with rusted teeth. Had the kidnapper left it for me or was it just a bonus for him? Stepping in one would do a lot of damage. I found a sturdy rock and tossed it on the spring, snapping the trap closed. The noise made me jump. Maybe vermin of the animal variety were the least of my worries; a human who set booby traps was a much bigger concern.
My pace slowed to almost a crawl. Scan, step, scan, step. It seemed like I’d been out here for hours. Thankfully, I didn’t spot any other traps. The owners, whoever they were, should be contacted to make sure nothing else like that was in their field.
Now I faced the sliding barn doors. Were they booby-trapped? Staring at them wouldn’t do any good. But maybe I could mitigate the risk. Instead of grabbing the handle and sliding the door open from the middle, I stepped to the far end of the door, grasped it as best I could, and tugged it far enough open that I would be able to slip into the barn. No gunshots sounded. No one had rigged a shotgun to shoot when the door was open. I took that as a good sign. What if I’d gone through all of this, I was in the wrong barn, and the package wasn’t here?
I peeked around the door and flashed my light into the barn. The floor was covered with a thin layer of straw or hay—I could never remember which was which. The musty smell made my nose itch. A shoebox tied with string sat in the middle of the old barn. As far as I could tell there were no contraptions set up around it to harm me. I also flashed the light up over the door. No pots of hot oil or honey and feathers were there either.
The walls were lined with old leather harnesses, rusted shovels, rakes, and pitchforks. It was basically a scene out of every scary movie set in a barn. I hustled over to the package and reached for it. Then I stopped. What if it was on something that would cause a chain reaction when I picked it up? Or what if it was a bomb that would blow as soon as it was moved? I scraped some hay away from the package with my foot. It looked like regular old wood floor under it. I kneeled next to the box, getting my ear as close as I could without touching it. No sound. But did bombs even tick anymore with everything going digital?
I stood up and reached down, hoping that I wasn’t going to have some kind of Indiana Jones experience complete with rolling boulders, poison darts shooting at me, and the barn collapsing. Don’t be ridiculous. I grabbed the shoebox. It weighed almost nothing. I sprinted out of the barn clutching the box to my chest. I retraced my path as best I could and got back to my car unharmed. I had ten minutes to get to Alice’s house.
* * *
I’d driven like the proverbial maniac, racing down side streets, careening around corners, and made it with two minutes to spare. But now I sat frozen. How could I take something unknown into my client’s house? What if it were a bomb or poison or a body part? Yes, my imagination had gone wild while I drove over here. The dilemma weighed on me. Take this package unopened to Alice or open it and possibly hurt
Stella?
I flipped on the inside lights of my Suburban, untied the string, and lifted the lid of the shoebox. The kidnapper had never said I couldn’t open it, and I still had a couple of minutes before I was supposed to deliver it. The box was filled with crumpled newspaper. I pulled piece after piece out of the box, tossing them aside. But there wasn’t anything else in the box. Why would the kidnapper want me to take this to Alice? Did the pieces of newspaper have some significance? I picked them back up, one by one.
Each piece contained a front-page article about me from the local newspaper. The time I’d saved kittens from a drain along with the unfortunate picture of me in action, my T-shirt wet; it was obvious I was cold. An article about my saving the child from being kidnapped, one about me being accused of murder, and one about me finding a beloved piece of art. All my escapades of the past two years here in crumpled black-and-white.
Why? I opened the last piece of paper, and a ring fell into my lap. I picked it up and realized that it was Stella’s engagement ring. Something brownish-red was dried on it. Please, don’t let that be Stella’s blood. But I could picture her fighting to keep the ring. My eyes blurred with tears. Tears of anger. I swiped at my eyes so I could read the last article. It was about my brother, who’d been accused of murder and then had gone missing. Until now, that had been the most stressful time of my life.
I smoothed out each piece of paper. These had to be some kind of clue, right? Some test. I read each article again, embarrassed all over again that the town’s residents thought I was a hero. Last spring the town leaders had wanted me to ride in a parade after saving the cats, baby, and artwork. Fortunately by the time the actual parade had rolled around, they’d found someone else to fawn over. Me on the back of a convertible waving like a homecoming queen? No thank you. I took the empty shoebox, got out of the car, and set it on Alice’s porch without bothering to ring the bell. As far as I was concerned that fulfilled the instructions the kidnapper had given me. I headed back to the car thinking about all the articles, all the things that had happened.
I climbed in and sat there unsure what to do next. Seconds later I bolted up, grabbed my phone, and made a call. “Harriet? I think I know where Stella is.”
Chapter Twenty
Thirty minutes later I had a team of friends assembled at the Bedford Farms Ice Cream shop. I had an empty cup of Almond Joy ice cream at my elbow. My dinner. And yes, I was amazed I had any kind of appetite, but maybe hope gave it to me. Around the table with Harriet and me were Frida, Frida’s son who’d served in the military, and two of his friends who were also prior military. They’d all helped protect Miss Belle last summer. Charlie Davenport was with us too—she’d served in Vietnam and was as smart and tough as they came. Charlie had not only helped me when my brother disappeared, but I’d also purchased my pink ruby ring with her assistance. We were waiting for one more person who was driving in from Dorchester.
Everyone eyed one another while we waited for Gennie Elder, Stella’s aunt. She was a retired mixed martial arts fighter or a cage fighter as I called her. I just hoped she didn’t kick me from here to Jupiter when she found out her niece had been missing for three days and I hadn’t told anyone but Harriet. Gennie strode in five minutes later and pulled up a chair.
All I had told anyone on the phone was that I was in trouble and needed his or her help. That each person said yes without question humbled me. In my two years of living in Ellington, I’d found people I loved and ones who loved me. Who could ask for more?
After a deep breath, I explained the situation. Gennie turned whiter than my ice cream and then flushed an angry red as I talked. I couldn’t tell if she was mad at me or furious with the situation. Frida had taken Gennie’s hand and gripped it. Harriet talked about the situation too. How she had some resources looking into things. She glanced at me while she said it. I’d asked her not to contact anyone and she’d promised, but who was I to judge? Harriet’s comments seemed to calm Gennie down.
“I think Stella is being held in an old barn west of town,” I said.
Gennie leaped up. “Let’s go get her.”
“Please sit for just a minute. Let’s talk this through and see if my logic makes sense.”
Gennie nodded and sat back down—on the edge of her chair. I told them about the phone call and hearing the train in the background as I’d talked to the kidnapper earlier this evening. How he had sent me to the barn to pick up the package, about the newspaper articles with my past, scary connections to two different barns.
“Hearing the train was Stella’s kidnapper making a mistake. But the articles were to taunt me. He didn’t think I’d figure it out.” And I’d come close to missing the significance of the two articles about the barns and my experiences in them, to not putting it all together. I told them about the trap I’d seen in the field, explained again why we couldn’t call the police.
We formulated a plan. I was going to drive home, park, and go to my apartment. I’d turn on lights to make it look like I was home. Then I’d sneak out one of Stella’s windows and walk to the alley where Harriett, Gennie, and Charlie would be waiting in a car. Frida, her son, and his friends would meet us on a side street near the barn. Everyone stood. Hopefully, in less than an hour Stella would be safe. I hadn’t mentioned Stella’s ring and the possibility that there was dried blood on it.
I pulled Gennie aside. “I know you must be upset with me, but I did what I thought was the right thing to do.”
Gennie gave a brief nod.
“If she’s not there, I’m going to the police,” I said. Three days. It was the bargain I had made with myself.
“Let’s take it a step at a time before you make any decisions.” She hugged me. “I’m sorry you’re going through this, but let’s get going.”
* * *
Forty-five minutes later we stood outside the barn. Fortunately, it hadn’t been Mike or one of his brothers outside the door when I’d gone back to my apartment, changed into all black clothes, and left again. The man had just nodded at me and gone back to reading his book.
Everyone had worn dark, comfortable clothing like I’d suggested. Charlie was out in the field somewhere watching with a pair of night-vision binoculars. She would call my phone if she saw anything worrisome. Gennie, Frida, Frida’s son, and his two friends were stationed around the barn. Harriet had brought some kind of scope with forward-looking infrared capabilities that included detecting people through walls. She held it up, but didn’t detect anyone inside the barn. But I still believed Stella was in there. Harriet insisted on going in with me. She had a gun, so I agreed.
The barn door was still open from when I’d been in there before. We slipped in and stood for a moment listening.
“You’re sure she’s here?” Harriet asked.
“Can I borrow your scope?” I asked.
Harriet handed it over, and I scanned the floor. I knew from an experience last May that some barns, even very old houses, had spaces below them where livestock were kept in the winter. I spotted a blurry image of one person and my heart almost stopped from relief. “Look about halfway across the barn.” I gave Harriet the scope.
Harriet used it, nodded, but continued to scan. She looked up toward the loft. “Looks like there’s just one person in here.”
“Now to find how to get down there.”
The barn floor was covered with hay. Done deliberately to cover the entrance? I turned on my Maglite and scanned the floor.
“There’s a disturbed spot in the middle,” Harriet said.
“It’s where I found the package,” I said. An old rake and a broom hung on one wall along with other farm implements. Harriet and I grabbed them and went to work. Moments later we uncovered a trapdoor. Harriet yanked it up. I jumped down with my flashlight. The space was only about five feet deep. There was Stella, tied to a folding chair, mouth duct-taped, dark green eyes squinted against the sudden light.
I cried out with relief as I ran to Stella. “Har
riet! She’s here.”
Harriet jumped down too. I ripped the duct tape off Stella’s mouth while Harriet slashed the ropes with a knife she’d pulled out of a pocket.
“How are you? Any injuries?” I asked. As soon as Harriet freed Stella’s hands I grabbed her ring finger and looked at it. No damage. I took her engagement ring out of my pocket. “I thought it was dried blood.”
“No. He didn’t touch me.” Stella’s voice was husky as if her throat was raw. “Just ketchup from the fast food he brought me.” She put her ring back on with shaky fingers.
Once all the ropes were cut, Harriet and I got on either side of Stella and helped her up.
“I’m sorry.” Tears were flowing like Victoria Falls down my face.
“It’s his fault, not yours,” Stella said.
I set the chair Stella had been tied to under the trapdoor, got on it, and pulled myself back up into the barn. All that lifting and moving things at garage sales gave me good upper-body strength. I kneeled on the floor as Harriet helped Stella up onto the chair. Stella shook as I grabbed her arms and pulled while Harriet boosted her up. Once Stella was out, I helped Harriet. Stella’s olive skin was dirty, her hair tangled, but there weren’t any visible bruises.
“Did you see his face?” Harriet asked.
“I didn’t,” Stella answered as we left the barn. “I’m not even sure it was a man.”
I had my arm around Stella’s waist, and she leaned in to me. We were shoulder to shoulder.
I wanted to ask her what had happened. How she’d been taken. But my questions could wait. Gennie ran to Stella and wrapped her in blankets I’d brought. Someone handed her a bottle of water.
“I’ll call 911.” And I’d follow up that call with one to Awesome. The call I dreaded making.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ten minutes later police cars and emergency vehicles swarmed the barn. There was an old drive on the backside of the barn that Frida’s son and his friend had found. They’d opened the gate so everyone could drive in. The call to Awesome had been one of the worst calls of my life. In seconds he’d gone through disbelief, shock, anger, and then calm. The controlled calm scared me the most. I didn’t want to be alone with him anytime soon.
Absence of Alice Page 12
