by Alison Stone
But Zach was nothing like Brian.
Heather slipped into the bathroom and chuckled at her reflection in the mirror. Based on the every-which-way of her hair, she must have tossed and turned all night. With more than a little effort, she ran a comb through her long tresses. She had a quiet morning planned before all her guests arrived tomorrow afternoon. Five women were registered for a weekend getaway, but the weather didn’t look like it was going to cooperate. Maybe with Ruthie’s help she’d try a new soup for Saturday afternoon.
Twisting her hair up in a ponytail, she left her bedroom—leaving the door unlocked—and headed downstairs. The clock on the kitchen wall ticked away each second. The red light on the alarm pad indicated it was set. That was when she saw a piece of paper on the table. From Zach. Funny, she hadn’t noticed it last night after he left.
She picked up the scrap of paper and realized it was his business card. She ran her thumb over the embossed letters of his name. Their relationship had been a professional one despite a little kiss.
That’s all.
She frowned. Her heart disagreed. She should have felt more content. Safe, at least, after knowing her ex-husband was no longer out there. But instead she felt...lonely.
You won’t feel lonely come tomorrow afternoon when the bed-and-breakfast is buzzing with guests. Enjoy this moment.
She grabbed a bowl of cereal and sat at the table overlooking the yard. The exact spot where she had sat with Zach twelve hours ago. The exact spot where he had kissed her. She touched her lips, remembering the warmth of his mouth on hers.
Why was she so quick to dismiss the notion of a relationship with him? He was a good man.
She was damaged goods.
Instead of obsessing, she focused on finishing her breakfast. She couldn’t just wander around the house all morning, missing Zach, listening to the rain beat on the roof. She had to do something. She wasn’t scheduled to pick up Ruthie until this afternoon.
Her gaze drifted to the barn. That was when she knew what she had to do. Soon, the news coverage of Brian Fox would be a distant memory. Perhaps now was the time to focus on putting another tragedy behind her.
She put her bowl in the sink, then grabbed her rain jacket off the hook, stuffed her feet in her Wellies and headed outside. The cool autumn rain felt refreshing on her cheeks. She turned and locked the door behind her. Some things would die a slow death. However, she supposed locking doors and setting alarms were a smart way of life for any woman living alone.
She crossed the yard. Determination lead her toward the open barn door. She swallowed back her nausea. The dilapidated barn taunted her, as if it had taken on a life of its own.
“You can do this,” she muttered to herself. The familiar tingling of a threatening panic attack bit at her fingertips. She glanced up. “Mem, stay with me. Help me do this so I can move forward.”
Letting out a long breath through narrowed lips, she kept up her steady pace for fear she’d chicken out. The muddy path sucked the soles of her rain boots with every step. When she reached the open door, a chill slithered down her spine. With trembling fingers, it took her a few tries to catch the zipper on her raincoat and yank it up to her neck. Pulling her sleeves down over her hands, she slipped inside the barn. Her mouth went dry. She walked over to the horses’ stalls. There were three of them.
Heather had no idea in which one her mother’s body had been found. Tears stung her eyes as she peered into each one. She ran her hand along the half door, vowing to put the barn repairs at the top of her priority list. Her mother had loved horses.
Zach had already made a good start.
A horse or two would be a wonderful addition. She’d have to repair the fences, too, so they could safely roam the property. That was about the extent of what she knew about horses, but she figured Ruthie would be a wealth of information.
Heather swiped away at the tears and said a silent prayer for her mother. That she would rest in peace. And that Heather’d be able to live with not knowing what happened because sometimes there were no answers. She had to ask God for comfort and peace.
The sound of shuffling made Heather spin around. Icy dread coursed through her veins. She squinted into the heavy shadows as thunder rumbled overhead and a bolt of lightning made her jump.
Crossing her arms, she decided the noises she had heard were the settlings of a very old building during a storm. She turned to leave the barn when someone yanked a burlap bag over her head and threw her down onto the ground. Her elbow and hip slammed into the hard-packed dirt.
Her scream got lodged in her throat as she sucked in the gritty fabric of the burlap. Panic consumed all rational thought.
Before she had a chance to gain her bearings, someone jumped on top of her and tied her hands behind her back. As the person yanked Heather to her feet, Heather pleaded, “Stop. Why are you doing this?” Shadows moved quickly, masked by the heavy weave of the burlap.
The image of her mother, the one she had held in her six-year-old brain, floated to mind. Was she going to meet her Maker in the same place as her mother’s body had been found?
Fear made it nearly impossible to think. Her pulse whooshed in her ears, masking the subtle sounds swirling around her.
Heather was shoved a few feet and tossed to the ground again. She whimpered in pain but refused to give up. In a desperate attempt to escape, Heather bucked and kicked, but her attacker had the upper hand. Something hard came down across her head, the blinding pain making her nauseous and dizzy.
“Stop.” The single word was slurred, sounding as if it hadn’t come from her mouth. “Please.”
The attacker used his advantage to tie her feet together. She struggled to see, but between the burlap and the heavy shadows and the throbbing pain in her skull, she couldn’t make out more than shadows.
“Brian? Please.” The words sounded hoarse as they rasped out of her throat.
Brian’s dead. Isn’t he?
A strange sound floated in the air. Is that me sobbing?
Her attacker dragged her as she bucked with her bound legs, unable to free herself. “Stop! Please!”
The attacker dropped her legs. Heather’s attempt to scoot back was made more difficult by her bound hands and feet. Something slammed her in the head again.
She fell back. Her head slammed against the ground. Nausea welled up and her head throbbed as she struggled to maintain consciousness.
Please, dear Lord. Save me. Save me.
The sound of liquid splashing on the ground filled her ears and the smell of gasoline gagged her.
Oh no... Oh no...
Panic, and a concussion, no doubt, made her dizzy.
Her ears buzzed, but she heard the unmistakable sound of a match hissing to life.
* * *
Zach paced the small lobby of the sheriff’s office waiting for Deputy Gates to return. Zach glanced at his watch. It was early, but the deputy had assured him he’d meet him here, even at this hour.
Impatience made him antsy. He knocked on the glass separating the common man from those who protected and served, an added security measure necessary in modern times. Quail Hollow wasn’t immune to evil.
“Deputy Gates is on his way,” the young woman said as she hung up the phone.
“Okay.” Zach squared his shoulders, bracing himself for what he had asked Deputy Gates to meet him for. He had to see Fox’s body. He couldn’t leave any room for doubt.
Crossing his arms, he turned toward the window. A sheriff’s patrol car pulled up and Deputy Gates climbed out. Zach yanked the door open and met his new friend outside.
“Morning,” Zach said, biting back his frustration when he noticed the deputy reaching into the cruiser to pull out a tray of coffees.
“Morning,” the deputy said. “Coffee?” He held out the tray.
Zach waved him off. “
No.” He opened the door to the office for the deputy, who seemed determined to keep walking, perhaps to get out of the rain. “Deputy, I was hoping to see Fox’s body.”
A buzzing sounded and the deputy opened the interior door to the secure offices. “Come on in.”
Zach didn’t want to go into the sheriff’s headquarters. He wanted the deputy to escort him to the morgue. He could have gone himself, but he thought using local law enforcement would go over better. Besides, he had no official reason to see Brian’s body. This was personal. Deputy Gates was his in. Less questions this way.
“Come back to my office.” The deputy led him through a series of hallways to a cubicle in the center of a large office space, dropping off two coffees on his way. He slid the tray with one remaining coffee on his desk. “Sure you don’t want one?”
Zach smiled tightly and finally accepted the coffee. “Thanks.” He took a long sip, hoping the caffeine would fix his mood. “Now, about our phone call.”
The deputy sat and rested his elbows on his knees. “That’s why I brought you back here. News is going to hit soon enough, but we need to try to get a jump on him.”
A ticking started in Zach’s jaw. “What are you talking about?” The coffee suddenly felt sour in his gut.
“Fox’s dentist expedited his X-rays.”
“Yeah?”
“The body. It’s not Fox’s. The dental records don’t match.”
Zach slowly leaned back, the reality of the latest discovery washing over him.
“Who is it?”
“Too early to tell, but a young man went missing about twenty miles outside of Peters Correctional Facility. Law enforcement didn’t connect the two until now. They’re sending us the young man’s dental records to see if it’s him.”
“Brian found someone roughly his height and build and faked his own suicide.”
The deputy ran his hands up and down his thighs. “He’s smart enough to know we’d figure it out. Far as I can tell. He was trying to buy time.”
Buy time.
The last two words bounced around Zach’s head. Buy time. He slammed down his coffee, the contents of the cup sloshing over the edges.
“What’s going on?”
“Send patrols to the Quail Hollow Bed & Breakfast on Lapp Road. I have to go. I have to get to Heather.”
The tires on Zach’s truck spit out gravel as he tore out of the sheriff’s parking lot. He had to get to Heather. Now! He grabbed his cell phone and dialed Heather’s phone number. Not a great idea while racing down a country road, but it couldn’t be avoided.
He put the phone on speaker and the hollow echo of the ringing phone bounced around the interior of his vehicle.
“Come on, Heather. Answer, answer, answer...” He tapped the side of his steering wheel as anxiety charged through him.
Heather’s voice sounded in his car speakers. “Hi, you’ve reached Quail Hollow Bed & Breakfast. Please leave your name and number and we’ll get back to you. We look forward to your visit.”
“Heather,” Zach yelled, as if she might hear him despite the fact he was talking into her voice mail. “Call me as soon as you get this. The body was not Fox’s. The dental records do not match. Lock the doors. Make sure the alarm is set. I’ll be there in—” he glanced at the clock out of habit “—five minutes.”
Zach ended the call and pressed the accelerator to the floor and the engine hummed. In the not-so-far distance behind him, he could hear sirens. He hoped they were racing to Lapp Road and not to pull him over for driving like a lunatic.
With a white-knuckled grip, he navigated the curve on Lapp Road. Up ahead, smoke filled the air in a thick black plume disappearing into the dark storm clouds. His heart plummeted.
“God, I know I haven’t prayed since before Jill died, but if You have any mercy on a poor soul like me, please, spare Heather. Please.”
His truck skidded on the wet pavement as he slowed at Heather’s driveway. His truck bobbled over the ruts. He slammed the gear into Park and jumped out of the truck, leaving the door open and the engine running. He leaned into the bed of the truck and snapped a fire extinguisher off the brace holding it in place, grateful he had gotten his truck back from the collision shop.
He ran as fast as he could, feeling like he was approaching a forest fire with a squirt gun. But he needed something. God was guiding his actions. He just knew Heather was in the barn.
He yanked the pin out of the extinguisher and aimed it at the door and white foam coated the frame, but flames licked the dry wood farther in.
“Heather! Heather!” Zach screamed, then he hooked his arm over his nose and mouth and pushed into the smoky confines of the barn. Holding his breath, he went in farther until he kicked something soft.
Dropping to all fours, he breathed in a shallow breath and coughed, his lungs filling with the acrid smoke. He reached out and felt an arm. He felt around her shoulders, slid his hands under her armpits and dragged her out of the barn.
A wave of relief washed over him when he saw Heather’s chest rise and fall once he set her on the grass a good thirty feet from the barn. He tugged off the burlap bag from over her head and his heart dropped when he saw the blood around her hairline.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the deputy running across the lawn. Zach hollered to him, “Call an ambulance!”
“On the way.” The deputy approached, hands fisted on his hips as he scanned the landscape. “Is Miss Miller okay?”
“Heather, it’s Zach. You’re going to be okay.” He worked on the ropes that bound her hands and feet. When she started to cough, he helped her sit up.
“Water,” Heather rasped.
Zach was vaguely aware of the deputy instructing someone to get her water. As he helped support her into a seated position, he scanned the landscape. Fox could be anywhere.
Zach pointed frantically at Deputy Gates. “Have your men search the fields. He can’t be far.”
“Who?” Heather coughed again.
“Fox.”
Her eyes widened in her sooty face as rain plastered her hair to her scalp. She slowly closed her eyes and her body went limp. Carefully, Zach laid her down. A fear like he’d never known spiked through him. He couldn’t lose Heather.
“Is that ambulance on the way?” he yelled.
The deputy spoke into his shoulder radio and then listened. “Two minutes out.”
Zach slid his arms under Heather’s armpits and knees and hoisted her up. Her head lolled against his chest. “Come on, honey. I’ve got you.” He ran toward the driveway and heard the sound of approaching sirens, his footing unstable over the muddy terrain. “I’ve got you,” he repeated over and over.
He reached the ambulance just as it stopped in front of the house. The paramedic jumped out and swung open the back doors. “What do you have here?”
“Smoke inhalation. Possible head injury.”
Zach climbed into the back of the ambulance and laid an unconscious Heather on the stretcher. “I’m going with her. Can I close these doors? We have to get moving.”
“Yeah, yeah,” the paramedic said as she started working on her.
As Zach reached to close the back door, he realized with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that his truck was missing. It was possible someone had moved it, but he knew better. The search party wasn’t going to find Fox in the fields because Fox had gotten away in Zach’s truck.
Zach sat down on the bench next to Heather in the back of the ambulance. He pulled out his cell phone to notify the deputy of the new development. It helped to focus on details. Job-related tasks. Made him feel like he was accomplishing something when deep down he knew he was helpless when it came to what mattered most: Heather.
Zach ended the call and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He reached out and took Heather’s limp hand in his
and pressed her cold fingers to his lips.
Dear Lord, let her be okay.
THIRTEEN
The stink of the acrid smoke lingered in Heather’s nose while a steady thump-thump-thump throbbed behind her eyes as she dreamed a million bizarre dreams of disjointed nonsense: swinging on a tire swing while pumping her legs toward the sky with a long dress flapping around her legs; serving guests at a long table that extended toward the horizon like one of those infinity pools; someone reaching for her through black smoke with strong arms.
Distant voices lulled her out of her strange dreams. It seemed to take a herculean effort to open her eyes. The voices grew louder and then grew distant again.
Finally prying her eyes open, she immediately regretted it as the long fluorescent lights in the ceiling were like a million pinpricks to her eyeballs.
“Ohh...”
A shadow crossed her face and a warm, gentle hand touched the back of hers. “I’m right here.” It was Zach.
She tried again to open her eyes. This time, Zach’s handsome face blocked the harsh lighting. He reached toward her and slid a piece of hair off her forehead. “Hey there. You had us worried.”
“What...?” The memories of her attack assaulted her brain like a tsunami unexpectedly taking her legs out from under her.
“How long have I been here?” The intensity in Zach’s gaze unnerved her.
“Twelve hours.” He lowered himself into the chair next to her bed and a strange thought ran through her mind. Had Zach been by her side the whole time?
“Who attacked me?” She tried to lift her arm and she realized there were wires coming out of her hand. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Zach took her hand in both of his. “Brian Fox is alive.”
She tried to push up on her elbow and immediately regretted it when nausea rolled over her. “What?” She furrowed her brow. “Can you elevate the top of my bed? I need to sit up.” This wasn’t the kind of news a person took lying down.
Zach found the control and pressed the button and the top of the bed moved up as the motor hummed. Heather folded her hands on top of her stomach as she talked herself out of a panic attack. “What about the body pulled out of the woods?” Tears threatened, but she refused to give her ex-husband any more of her tears.
