Desperate Measures

by Patricia H. Rushford

  “Not until you told me he’d disappeared from the hospital. I put two and two together and realized he was probably with them.”

  “Did you know someone tried to blow Agent Tucker and me off the road?”

  “I heard. Must have been frightening for you.”

  “It was. Considering the way it was done, I have a hunch whoever did it was with ARM. Maybe they were retaliating because of Crystal’s and Aleshia’s arrest. In fact, I think that one person is responsible for everything that’s been happening.”

  “Do you have any idea who that is?”

  “Maybe Sal—Crystal’s brother. I keep going back and forth about him. He did know where the girls were camped, and he stayed up in the woods. Maybe he met somebody else up there­ or maybe he was working alone.”

  “Do you think he might be a member of ARM?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “From what Aleshia tells me about ARM, Jennie, you’re wrong. Their agenda doesn’t include murder or attacks on individuals.”

  Jennie sipped on the too-hot tea. “I was hoping I could talk to Aleshia about Sal. I know the pieces will fall together eventually. I saw the taillights of the car the person who ambushed us was driving. Can’t remember that much about it yet. It’ll come back eventually.”

  “Maybe you should hope it doesn’t. My husband died because he got too close to the truth. I wouldn’t want the same thing to happen to you.”

  For the next few moments neither spoke. The stove fan whirred and the clock above the sink ticked. Jennie couldn’t pinpoint exactly what had triggered it for her, but crazy as it seemed, her suspicions pointed to Christine as the killer. The last comment, though wrapped in concern, held the hard edge of a threat. Her mind replayed the inconsistencies. Christine’s strength as she lifted the heavy basket with practiced ease. The car in the garage. Maybe Aleshia, like Jennie, had thought no one was at home the day Mr. Sutherland had been killed, but Christine could have been there the whole time. She could have lied about when she left for town. How would Christine react to her husband if she knew what he’d done to Aleshia’s fox?

  Jennie imagined the scene. Aleshia comes, fights with her father, runs into Jim, then leaves. Christine may not have even known she was there. She gets ready to go into town, then goes out to say good-bye to her husband. He tells her about Aleshia pushing him. Maybe he’s struggling to get up. Christine sees what he’s done with Sasha and grabs the hammer. If she was home when Aleshia left, she would have had plenty of time to kill him, dispose of the evidence, and drive into town to meet Aleshia at the restaurant.

  But that couldn’t have been the only motive. Wait. Scott said Sutherland was close to finding out who Sonja was. Could he have confronted her? Could he have discovered that his own wife was not only a member of ARM, but the leader—that she’d turned their daughter against him? Christine seemed almost proud of Aleshia’s affiliation with the radical protest group. Something else. Christine had easy access to the truck. She could have run Scott off the road. She could have been the person on the mountain.

  No. Jennie reeled in her imagination. The idea was too far­fetched.

  Christine couldn’t be Sonja. The ARM leader traveled around the country. Christine had been living here since Aleshia was in grade school. There was no logic to her sudden suspicion, but Jennie couldn’t let it go. She needed proof one way or the other. Maybe if she could see Christine’s car …

  Jennie glanced at the long hallway. The house was a split level with the main part of the house at ground level and the basement and possibly other rooms below. Jennie had gotten familiar with the layout-outside, at least, while they’d been picking up the re­ leased mink. She had an idea.

  “Um—do you mind if I use your bathroom? Tea tends to run right through me.”

  Christine pulled back from wherever her thoughts had taken her. “Sure. It’s down the hall—second door on the right—across from the stairs.”

  Stairs. Yes. Those stairs would lead to the garage—Jennie was sure of it. She’d run the fan in the bathroom, then slip out, check the taillights on the car, and leave through the garage. If Christine was guilty, Jennie would hurry back to Bergstroms’ and call the sheriff. If she found nothing, she’d go back upstairs and finish her tea, then leave. Maybe she’d tell Tess or the FBI agent about her suspicions—maybe not.

  Christine left the table and opened the basket Mary had prepared. With any luck, she’d be busy with her breakfast and kitchen things. Jennie hurried into the bathroom and turned on the fan, then slipped out, looking down the hall toward the kitchen to make certain Christine wasn’t watching. She dashed across the hall and down the stairs. There were three doors. The one to her left was a laundry room, the one straight in front stood open and looked like a craft room. Jennie started to turn right, but the faint scent of gasoline stopped her. It drew her like a beacon into the laundry room. Jennie spotted a black turtleneck and stirrup pants, heavy socks, a ski mask, and knit gloves in a clump on the floor.

  She picked up the gloves, brought them to her nose, and sniffed. Part of her wanted to believe it was a coincidence and that Christine had gotten gas on her hands some other way than sloshing it all over the road just before Jennie and Agent Tucker came around the bend. Part of her felt the thrill of being one step closer to discovering the truth. Jennie glanced around for a plastic bag in which to store the gloves. When she didn’t find one, she stashed them in a cupboard behind some rags where they’d be missed when Christine did her laundry.

  Jennie’s heart shifted into high gear as she stepped back into the hall and reached for the door leading into the garage. She needed to hurry so Christine wouldn’t get suspicious. She’d look at the car on the way out, then go back to Bergstroms’ and tell the sheriff what she’d found.

  She remembered now. Christine’s car was dark purple. Circling the car, she looked closely at the taillights. Rounded, like the ones that had passed them on the road and driven off, leaving her and Tucker to die.

  As quietly as she could, Jennie began to pull open the garage door. She heard a click behind her, and the hum of a garage door opener. The wide door slammed back down, nearly jerking her arm out of the socket. She was trapped.

  24

  “Did you get lost, Jennie? The bathroom is upstairs.” Christine stood in the doorway, the garage door opener pointed like a weapon.

  Jennie gulped. “I … I know.” She smiled. “You have a beautiful house. I couldn’t resist looking around.”

  “Really. In that case, maybe you’d like to see more.”

  “N-no, I really need to get back to the Bergstroms’. Lisa and Megan will be waiting.”

  “Oh, Jennie.” She looked genuinely distressed. “You really can’t believe I’d let you leave now.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” Jennie feigned innocence.

  “Don’t you? You’re a smart girl. I could tell you were going to be trouble from the start. You’re too inquisitive. And that boyfriend of yours …” She shook her head. “I knew something was fishy when he told me about Melissa. I didn’t realize it at the time, but Scott’s testimony put Melissa in prison, and the FBI used her computer and code name to email me about him. It didn’t sound quite like her, so I contacted her partner. Paul told me all about Scott and how he wanted to get even with ARM for that fireman’s death. Scott is a fool. Those deaths were accidental. We don’t want to see people get hurt. The fire bombs we’d placed in the lab were supposed to set off the sprinkler system—not start a major fire. It wasn’t our fault their sprinklers failed.”

  “Right.” Jennie reached behind her and felt for the handle. “And I suppose it was Mr. Sutherland’s fault that you killed him.”

  “In a way, yes. He was getting out of control. He threatened to go to the police and tell them that Aleshia was Sonja. I couldn’t let that happen.”

  “Aleshi
a? But you—”

  “Yes, Jennie. I am Sonja. Not even my husband would have guessed it was me. Unfortunately, if he’d gone to the FBI with what he knew, they would have eventually figured it out. I didn’t want to kill him.” Christine’s gaze dropped for a moment, reflecting her grief. “Funny thing—I did love him. I don’t suppose anyone will believe that now.”

  “Probably not. Why did you go after Scott?”

  “He was a traitor, and I wasn’t certain how much he knew.”

  “How many more people will you have to kill, Christine? Me? Sal? What about Aleshia and Crystal? Do they know who you are?”

  “Not yet. I’ll have to tell Aleshia now that I’ve decided to leave here.”

  “Are you planning to kill them to protect your identity?” Christine gave her a disgusted look. “That won’t be necessary. You forget they are loyal to ARM. Aleshia will be thrilled to be allowed into the inner circle.”

  “Why didn’t you tell Aleshia before?” Jennie reached behind her and gripped the door handle. Maybe she could distract Chris­ tine long enough to jerk up the door and dive under it.

  “It was best she not know.” Christine leaned against her car. “What happens when she finds out you killed her father?”

  “She won’t.”

  “How did you know where to find them?” “You’re just full of questions, aren’t you?”

  Jennie shrugged. “I’m curious. Since you don’t plan on letting me go and I already know you’re the killer, why not indulge me?”

  “Why not? It’s all rather complicated. I thought I had dealt with your Mr. Chambers. I should have stopped to make certain he was dead. Big mistake. By the time I realized he hadn’t died, it was too late to warn Aleshia. I had to find them before the FBI did. I didn’t know exactly where they were, so I called Crystal’s mother. She didn’t know either. Sal told me the general area but wouldn’t give me any details. He said he’d give them a message for me, so I knew he planned to go up there. I waited—an interesting scenario. As I suspected, the FBI was waiting too. I followed you all into the mountains. My plan was to warn them about Scott and get them out of there. Unfortunately I didn’t arrive soon enough.”

  “Why did you sabotage Tucker and me?”

  “Several reasons. You were Scott’s friend. I didn’t know how much he’d told you.” She sighed deeply. “And you seem to have trouble minding your own business. Besides that, I saw a chance to get rid of another FBI agent. I don’t know which of you was most dangerous. Learning that Melissa had been arrested concerned me. They were getting too close.”

  Jennie lifted up on the garage door. It wouldn’t budge. Frightened didn’t begin to explain Jennie’s feelings. She was trapped in a garage with a cold-blooded killer.

  “It’s locked,” Christine said, looking at Jennie again, “And it will stay locked.”

  “Then I guess I’ll hang around for a while.” Jennie tried for a light tone but couldn’t quite pull it off. It’ll be okay, she reassured herself. Sooner or later she would catch Christine with her guard down and make a break for it. If not through the garage, then through the house. She needed to stay calm and in control. She’d look for an opportunity and take it. Jennie had no doubt she’d be faster and stronger than the gaunt, middle-aged woman. Christine wasn’t carrying a gun—at least not yet. That gave Jennie a definite edge.

  Christine signaled her to go back into the house. When Jennie started up the stairs, Christine grabbed her wrist and with surprising strength yanked her back down. “Not that way. Since you’re so curious, I thought I’d show you how I managed to keep my identity secret for all these years.”

  “Sure.” Jennie massaged her right wrist and swallowed back a wave of fear. She’d underestimated her adversary. Christine might be scrawny, but she was a lot stronger than Jennie had thought. She remembered then about ARM members being trained in martial arts. If that was true of Christine, escaping might not be an option. She’d play along for now. Right, like you’ve got a choice.

  “Don’t even think about leaving.” Christine fastened her gaze on Jennie. “I have ways of making sure you won’t.”

  “I don’t doubt that for a minute,” Jennie muttered.

  “In there.” She nodded toward the room Jennie thought was a craft room. Cabinets lined one wall. A sewing machine stood against a painted concrete wall beneath a high, curtained window. A bolt of fabric and miscellaneous sewing supplies were strewn on a craft table in the center of the room. Another wall was practically all closet. Christine slid open the doors.

  What happened next looked like something out of a spy movie. Jennie watched mesmerized as Christine, alias Sonja, moved aside a few hangers and pressed a button on the back wall. It opened to reveal another room about fifteen by twenty. In it were two computers and work stations, file cabinets, and a table spread with maps. On a far wall was a large map with colored pins marking locations of what were probably hits by ARM members. But much more frightening was the weapons arsenal. An open cabinet displayed everything from assault rifles to hand grenades along with equipment needed to make bombs. Jennie recognized some of the paraphernalia from the article she’d seen on making fire bombs.

  “This is my command center. I keep an eye on all ARM activities. As you can see, we’ve accomplished a great deal.” She pointed to the map.

  “Wow! I’m impressed. How did you do all this without your husband finding out? This must have been a huge job.”

  “Not really. I managed to stay involved on a superficial level until about ten years ago when we had this house built. It had been my dream to have a room like this, so I had the builders leave me the space as a finished storage area. Bob left the house—the design, everything—to me. He was too busy with his own affairs. There are some benefits in having a husband who’s self-involved.”

  “I don’t understand. If you hate the fur industry, how could you live here on the farm?”

  “It hasn’t been easy. For the most part I stayed away from the barns except to feed and care for the mink on occasion. I closed my eyes to what he and the Bergstroms were doing. Every day I would tell myself it was the best way to help the cause.”

  “How noble.” Jennie felt sick. “I suppose you instigated the raid on your farm.”

  She smiled. “Oh yes. My moment of glory. I can’t tell you how good it felt to finally be able to free those animals. Like an absolution.”

  “Excuse me if I don’t share your enthusiasm.”

  “I don’t expect you to understand.”

  Hearing a groan, Jennie’s gaze swung from the map to the couch behind them and the figure lying there. Sal. Jennie sucked in a deep breath. His hands and legs had been secured and he lay on his side—unconscious.

  Jennie ran to his side and automatically checked for a pulse. “What have you done to him?”

  “He’s fine, Jennie. I had to give him something to keep him quiet. I’ll have to do the same with you.”

  “Why? You can’t possibly think you’ll get away with this.”

  “Oh, I’ll get away all right. Tomorrow night—after the funeral. I have a team coming in to help me pack all this up.”

  “Mary knows I’m here. She’ll get worried. My parents are coming.”

  “Yes, I know.” She gave Jennie a wan smile. “I’ll tell them you were here and that you left right after tea. The last I saw of you, you were heading back toward the lake. I’ll help look for you, of course. It’s terrifying to know the killer is still out there—stalking innocent victims. None of us is safe anymore.” Tears filled her eyes, creating the picture of empathy.

  She looked so sincere, Jennie almost believed her. Licking her dry lips, she said, “Agent Tucker will be here soon—to question you about Sal. He’ll figure it out.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. Agent Tucker is a very attractive man, don’t you think? He sees me as everyone els
e does—a poor, weak, frail little woman. People are very protective of me, you know. He’s been especially kind. I’ll invite him to look around. There’s no way he’ll find this place.”

  “He suspects you.”

  “Does he?” She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Then I’ll have to be more convincing.” Christine stepped over to where Jennie was standing. “I don’t have time for any more chitchat. As you can see, I still have a lot of packing to do. Put your hands behind your back.”

  “No.” Jennie stepped to the side. If she could distance herself enough, maybe she could reach the door. Jennie took another step back, then another.

  Christine’s sinister smile gave Jennie little hope of getting away, but she had to try. Jennie made it as far as the stairs. Christine grabbed her shirt and yanked her back. Jennie spun around and kicked, landing a forceful blow to the older woman’s knee. She screeched and charged again. Jennie scrambled up the stairs. Christine grabbed her ankle and sent her sprawling.

  “No!” Jennie screamed one loud, piercing scream before Christine pinned her to the floor, face buried in the carpet, muffling any further sound.

  “You may as well give it up, Jennie. You’re no match for me.” Jennie struggled, but it was no use. She could think of only one way to fight her. Jennie went limp. Closing her eyes, she pretended she’d lost consciousness. Maybe she couldn’t fight, but she wasn’t about to give up and she wasn’t going to make it easy.

  “Jennie?” Christine loosened her hold on Jennie and felt for a pulse. Apparently satisfied she hadn’t killed her prey, she moved away.

  Ear to the floor, Jennie listened for Christine’s footfall. Had she gone for something to tie her up with? Or was she waiting for Jennie to make a move?

  A car pulled into the driveway. Where was Christine? Jennie peered between half-closed eyelids. Christine had gone to the window. She swore and spun around, then strode back to where Jennie lay. Eyes closed again, Jennie continued to play unconscious. Car doors slammed. Who was it? Judging by the derogatory names Christine had used and the tone of her voice, Jennie thought it might be Agent Tucker or Sheriff Parker—or both. No matter who it was, Jennie knew this was her best chance of getting help.