A Broth of Betrayal

by Connie Archer

  “And the only thing missing was the bullet?”

  “Seems that way. Nate thinks it might have just rolled away, it was so small. The office was a real mess when we got there.”

  “Too many strange things are going on.”

  “I agree. That’s why I felt better staying there with him last night.”

  “Oh, great protection you’d be in an attack. What do you weigh? One hundred and fifteen pounds?”

  “What do you mean? I could call the police, I could grab a fireplace poker. It’d be a lot safer than leaving Horace alone after hitting his head like that. Besides, I can be tough when I want to be,” Lucky retorted.

  “Oh, speaking of tough, I ran into Elias the other day and we stopped to chat. Don’t know how he managed it, but he brought the conversation around to your name—your nickname, I should say.”

  “Oh?” Lucky cringed.

  “What’s that about?”

  “You didn’t tell him did you?” Lucky squinted her eyes, glaring at Sophie. “Did you?”

  “Noooo.” Sophie drew out the word. “He knows your real name is Letitia, but I figured if he didn’t know about your nickname, it wasn’t me who should tell him.”

  “I appreciate that. I’m trying to be feminine, remember?”

  Sophie burst out in a belly laugh. “Give me a swig of that coffee.” She held out her hand and Lucky passed her the plastic cup. “You didn’t want to tell him about Jimmy Pratt?” She laughed again. “Why not?”

  Elias had been nagging her for months to know the secret of her nickname. All Lucky would tell him was that Jack had named her. What she didn’t want him to know was that Jack had named her after Virgil Luckorski, a middleweight champion and one of Jack’s wartime shipmates. When Lucky lost her temper and broke the nose of an elementary school bully, her parents were horrified. But Jack was extremely proud of her. “You gave him what for, my girl,” was all he said. And from that day on, he called her Lucky, after his favorite fighter. She basked in the compliment and insisted that everyone call her just that—Lucky. She did sometimes feel rather bad that Jimmy Pratt’s nose had never healed right. Once in a great while, their paths would cross in the town, but Jimmy always walked to the other side of the street and pretended he didn’t see her. Obviously he hadn’t forgiven her.

  “Did you bring the maps?” she asked.

  “Yes. And I’ll ignore the fact that you’re changing the subject.” Sophie reached behind her seat and spread a map of the town and surrounding roads out on her lap. “I thought maybe we should work the roads west of town today. All the way up to the Resort.”

  “Okay. I’ll take this area here.” Lucky pointed to a two-lane road that angled just south of the Resort. “You should maybe take this part up here, and all around the Resort, since you know that area better than I do.”

  “Sounds good. We’ll check in with each other every half hour by phone.”

  Lucky took a last swallow of coffee. “We could lose reception in this area, so don’t panic if we can’t reach each other.”

  “If that happens, I’ll keep going as long as I can and I’ll see you at the Spoonful later this morning.”

  “I’ll keep driving till eight thirty and then I’ve got to get cleaned up and off to work. Can you give Sage a call and let him know I might be a little late? Jack’s volunteering for a ground search this morning.”

  “Catch you later.” Sophie turned the key and her engine came to life.

  Lucky clambered out. “Thanks for the coffee. I could use another bucket of it.” Sophie smiled and, waving, made a U-turn and drove away.

  There were only so many roads into and out of town, but they were winding, separated by acres of woodland, and many dirt tracks and fire roads led into the woods. Lucky couldn’t imagine why Elizabeth would take a detour off a main road, but if she had stopped to help someone, she could have been attacked. It was possible her car was many miles or even many states away—perhaps even over the border in Canada. Although that would be difficult with a stolen car. Passports were required for U.S. citizens to enter Canada. She was sure the Canada Border Services Agency would also require proof of vehicle registration and insurance. But if her car was still anywhere in this area, near Snowflake, then hopefully Elizabeth was too.

  She started her engine and, following in Sophie’s general direction, took the road that angled south of the Resort. She drove slowly, scanning the sides of the two-lane highway, searching for any path that would allow a car through. It was very early and there was only the occasional car that passed in the opposite direction. For that she was grateful. There were few spots where she could pull over if cars came up fast behind her.

  She had driven about three miles when she spotted a dirt road. It led off the road at a very sharp angle. She had almost missed it. If she hadn’t been looking very carefully, she might never have seen it. She hit the brakes and backed up slowly, checking her rearview mirror. She turned the wheel sharply, making a turn onto the dirt path. She drove several more feet and stopped, turning off the engine. It made clicking sounds as it cooled. She climbed out of the car and examined the path in front of her. Tire tracks were clear in the dust, wider than a car’s tires. Someone had driven here recently. It hadn’t rained in a while but the dirt was soft and the tires had made a good impression.

  She climbed back in and turned the key, continuing on very slowly up the dirt road. It rose slightly and widened. Through the trees she caught a glint of something bright. Could it possibly be a car hidden in the woods? Elizabeth’s car? She stopped and stared. The early sunlight was shining on a metallic object. She’d need to move closer to see. Quickly, she dialed Sophie’s phone, but a steady beep-beep-beep warned her there was no cell service.

  She turned the engine off once again. She climbed out and followed the track through the trees for another twenty yards or so. At the top of the rise, the path dropped down to a large clearing with a small cabin in the center. A black flatbed truck was parked nearby. Disappointed, she heaved a sigh. She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath. It wasn’t Elizabeth’s car. Fishing rods were propped against the roof of the cab. The door to the cabin creaked as it slowly opened. Ducking behind a tree, she watched from her hideout. A man stepped out. He carried a large bundle wrapped in a tarp. He wore a T-shirt and a baseball cap. Struggling with the awkward bundle, he placed it on the bed of the truck. He pulled off his cap and wiped his brow. The red hair was unmistakable. It was Rod Thibeault.

  What was Rod doing in the woods with fishing gear on a day when he said he had a court appearance? And more importantly, what was inside that large bundle? He was obviously packing up the truck to leave. Lucky knew she had no choice. Her stomach lurched at the thought of what could be under that tarp. She had to confront him before he drove away. There didn’t appear to be another exit. He’d see her parked car blocking the exit. Rod wouldn’t be able to drive away unless she backed out. She waited until Rod closed the door behind him for the last time and locked it. He leaned down and slipped something under a rock, then returned to the truck and slammed the back panel shut.

  She stepped out of the trees and walked slowly down the rise, her heart thumping heavily in her chest.

  “What have you got there, Rod?”

  “Huh?” Startled, Rod turned in her direction. Lucky moved closer. “Lucky? What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same question.”

  “It’s my place. Or rather my Dad’s. We use it when we go fishing.”

  “I thought you had a court appearance today.”

  “I do. But it’s this afternoon.” Rod’s face darkened. “Why all the questions, Lucky? And you didn’t answer mine. What are you doing here?”

  “Sophie and I are checking all the side roads around the town.”

  “Oh yeah? Where’s Sophie now?”

  Lucky felt a jolt of fear. She was all alone and had nothing to protect herself with. Who knew that Rod had a cabin in the woods?
Probably no one. “She’s right behind me. She’s just parking her car on the road.”

  “Okay. Well, if there isn’t anything else . . .” He jiggled his keys in his pocket. “I’ll be on my way.”

  “What’s under that tarp, Rod?” Lucky could feel her legs start to shake. Could Rod have been responsible for abducting Elizabeth? Elizabeth had correspondence about the complaints against him. Had she reported him to the State Bar? Or was she just being copied on the investigation? Did he have a motive to abduct or harm her?

  “What? Why, my camping gear. My Dad and I are heading up north at the end of the month—fishing.”

  Lucky kept a safe distance. “Would you mind pulling the tarp off? I’d like to see.” The color had drained from her face. She had to know. If Rod was guilty of something and tried to attack, she knew she could run faster than he could. She’d fly to her car and lock herself in.

  Rod looked confused, then the meaning of her request hit him. His face paled under his freckles. “You can’t think . . .” Then he blushed furiously. Obviously angry, he turned back to the flatbed and opened the back panel. He pulled the tarp away in a violent gesture. Underneath was an assortment of tents, cooking gear and two lanterns. Lucky breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Satisfied?” Rod replied sarcastically. “Jeez, Lucky, how could you even think anything like that?”

  “Sorry, Rod. I had to be sure.”

  Rod closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “So you know, don’t you?” Lucky remained silent, watching him carefully. “You know that Elizabeth was a witness to what happened.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “Yes.” Lucky knew nothing in truth, but silence seemed the best way to draw Rod out.

  “Well, I’d be willing to bet you don’t know the circumstances. The guy I confronted at the courthouse got on the stand and flat-out lied about my client. I don’t know why he did it. I lost my temper. It was completely stupid. I never should have spoken to him, much less gotten into a shoving match with the creep. So now I have to go before a disciplinary board. Isn’t that just great? I just hope to hell I’m not disbarred because of it. Look, I lost it that day. I had worked so hard on that case and I just lost my temper. I did a very wrong thing, and hopefully I’ll just get a slap on the wrist. But I would never hurt Elizabeth. I like her very much, and even though she has to make a statement because she was a witness to it, she’s been very supportive. She’s told me she plans to speak up on my behalf at the hearing. Believe me, I want her found just as much as you do.”

  “Sorry I was suspicious.”

  “It’s been a tough year for me, Lucky. I just don’t need any more accusations. Let’s let bygones be bygones, all right?”

  “Fine with me.” Lucky turned away and climbed to the top of the road. She trudged back to her car and reversed down the drive. She checked both directions and backed out onto the road. Before she could put her car in forward gear, Rod’s truck charged out to the road and roared away. He didn’t give her a second look.

  Lucky sat in the car for a few minutes more mulling over her options. She turned on the engine and drove back up the dirt road all the way to the top of the rise. Once there, she turned off the motor and climbed out. She walked slowly down into the clearing toward the cabin. She was willing to bet there was a key to the cabin hidden under the rock that Rod had moved. Fearful that he might return and catch her entering his cabin, she hesitated. She weighed the guilty feeling against the possibility that Rod might have something to hide in the cabin, and that any doubts about him would eat away at her. She made her decision. She rolled over the rock near the front door and grabbed the shiny key that lay in the dirt.

  The door opened easily. She stepped inside, key in hand, and surveyed the tiny cabin. It consisted of a small living room with a rock-encrusted fireplace, an opening to a kitchen area and a bedroom on the left. There was a bare minimum of furniture—a sofa, kitchen table, three chairs, a floor lamp and twin beds and a bureau in the next room. The smell of recently cooked bacon hung in the air.

  Lucky checked the bedroom closet, the bath, the bureau drawers, the kitchen cupboards and the alcove that housed the water heater. She found a few mismatched dishes and cups, a frying pan and a large pot. She locked the door behind her and replaced the key under the rock. The cabin had no cellar but rested on a raised foundation. She walked to the back of the building and, kneeling on the ground, peered under the structure. She could see all the way to the front of the little house. She stood and brushed her hands off, relieved there was nothing suspicious, but disappointed she still had no idea where to search.

  If Rod had anything to hide, it wasn’t here.

  Chapter 26

  ELIZABETH FORCED HERSELF to keep walking. It didn’t matter that she walked in a circle; it was simply important to keep moving, otherwise her muscles would atrophy. Every day the stiffness increased. She was terrified she’d be in too weakened a state if an opportunity to escape ever did come. She touched the wall where she had started to mark each day as best she could, judging by the light filtering into her small prison cell. Some days torpidness overcame her. On those days, she slept. Had Maggie been drugging her food? No, that couldn’t be. If so, she wouldn’t have moments when all she wanted to do was scream. She must maintain control. Control and mental discipline would get her through this experience. Maggie never opened the door now, never gave her a chance to talk, to reason with her. The water was almost gone. She had to be careful. She had to conserve. It was a blessing that it was so cool in the cellar. The heat of the day never reached this place and caused thirst. But when the water ran out, would Maggie bring more? A person could die much quicker of thirst than of hunger.

  She stopped. And listened. Had she been talking to herself as she completed the circuit of the room? No, there were voices. Voices above her head. Unmistakable. Someone had come to Maggie’s house. A heavy footstep walked across the floor. It wasn’t Maggie. It was a man’s footsteps, moving heavily back and forth, as if pacing. She waited, her ear pressed to the pipes.

  Was Maggie telling the truth? Was there someone here—the “he” that Maggie had referred to—who would hurt her? She heard an enraged deep voice. “You . . . stay away from . . . keep her . . .cellar . . .” Then a higher pitched whimpering voice responded. Elizabeth, horrified, clasped a hand over her mouth. She tried to recognize the speaker. Distorted by the metal pipes and muffled by the floorboards, it was impossible to identify him. Someone was ordering Maggie to keep her locked away. But why? A loud crash came from above followed by a woman’s scream. After that only silence. Terrified, Elizabeth huddled on the sleeping bag. She drew her legs up, wrapping her arms around her knees, fearful those heavy footsteps would descend the cellar stairs.

  * * *

  THE CROWD GREW steadily as everyone who could attend the Reenactment gathered at the edges of the Village Green. A special seating section had been set up in front of the steps of the white-steepled church for the town council members, the Mayor, Cordelia Cooper Rank and several other women. These important personages had to be the visiting Daughters of the American Revolution in Snowflake for the festivities. Elizabeth’s chair was empty.

  The noontime sun beat down upon the crowd and the noise level rose. One of the local vendors sold cold drinks from a cart across the street. Lucky knew he’d make a small fortune on a day like this. All the same, she and Jack were glad they had closed the Spoonful for a few hours to allow everyone—Sage, Janie and Meg—to attend the festivities. Lucky and Elias, along with Jack, had found a good viewpoint under a spreading elm tree. Sophie and Sage were a short distance away, Sage’s arm thrown over Sophie’s shoulder. Sage looked exhausted. He had worked late every night preparing food so he could be out early in the morning with the search parties. Janie and Meg had covered for him until he could arrive at work a little later in the day. The girls would be joining another group this afternoon that Nate was leading, so only she, Jack and Sage would be at the Spoonful the
rest of the day. It seemed every streetlamp and tree were papered with missing flyers. What more could they do? She had wasted precious time that morning snooping in Rod’s cabin. If she hadn’t been so suspicious of his actions, she could have covered a lot more territory. The news of Snowflake’s Mayor’s disappearance had played on every TV and radio news station for the past two days. A truck from WVMT with a satellite dish was parked farther up Water Street to film the Reenactment. Undoubtedly their reporters would be covering Elizabeth’s disappearance as well.

  Lucky couldn’t help but stare at the empty chair on the dais. She couldn’t decide which would be worse—to have Elizabeth’s chair there and vacant, or neglect to place a chair for her? Elias followed her gaze and squeezed her shoulder protectively. She leaned her head against his chest. There was no need for any words. He knew what she was feeling and there wasn’t anything he could say to comfort her. He hoped this short break from the Spoonful would raise her spirits.

  Jack checked his watch. “It’s just gone one bell. Time for me to be at my station. Gotta make sure everyone has their armaments. I’ll be back to the Spoonful in time for reopening.”

  “See you in a little bit, Jack.” A large tent had been set up on Water Street to house the players, costumes and props. Lucky watched Jack as he maneuvered through the crowd. The local men taking part in the Battle were milling about at the edge of the Green waiting for their cue. Hank, scarecrow thin and taller than the rest of his group, fussed with his loose pants and linen vest. Barry readjusted his long braided wig and headband.

  Lucky heard her name called and turned to see Horace in his Hessian outfit pushing through the crowd to reach her. He wore his long skirted dark blue coat and carried a knapsack and an enormous wooden sword. He was sweating profusely in the heat. “How in heaven’s name did those soldiers of yore manage to do any fighting in these outfits?” he asked rhetorically.