But where is that deserted church?
Branches whipsawed back and forth, beating at them ferociously. The wind had picked up again. In fact, it felt as if another tornado might be barreling down upon them!
Loosening the reins a little, Suzanne allowed Mocha to pick his way, slowly now, down a narrow twisted and turning path.
Maybe this is a bad idea, Suzanne thought to herself. Maybe I should just turn around and forget . . .
A dark, stone pillar, half obliterated by trees, loomed directly ahead of her.
What?
She gave Mocha a little kick and he instantly picked up the pace. As they drew closer, Suzanne saw that it was a stone statue. A statue of a man gazing up toward the heavens, both arms upraised.
Oh my—and there are more statues, too. I think I know what this is.
Though they were battered and broken, Suzanne understood that she’d stumbled upon an abandoned section of the church’s stations of the cross. So the old church had to be close by!
They made their way slowly now, and Suzanne saw rounded stone tablets peeking out of the tops of bushes.
Gravestones.
Which meant the old church was very close by.
Soon, wet, soggy ground yielded to harder earth and Suzanne urged Mocha into a slow canter. Then, in no time at all, they flashed past the old stone church, half tumbled down, its broken roof open to the punishing elements. And a few moments later, they popped out of the woods and onto a narrow road!
Reining Mocha in, taking care not to let him stumble and lose his footing on the rain-slicked blacktop, Suzanne glanced left, then right, through the driving rain.
And saw—nothing. No accident, no Sam.
But Esther said it was near the old church, she told herself. Not at it. So she had a decision to make. Turn left or turn right.
Suzanne thought for a minute. Left would take her back toward town, but right . . .
She reined right, jabbed Mocha with her heels, and sent him cantering along the side of the road. The wind was at her back now, so the cold wasn’t quite as piercing. And maybe, if she called out, Sam might be able to hear her?
“Sam!” Suzanne called as she cantered along. “Where are you, Sam?”
With the wind still howling, she worried that she wouldn’t be heard. Still, it didn’t hurt to try.
I don’t care how crazed I sound, she told herself. I just want to find him!
She called out a few more times as the road curved this way and that. Still she saw . . . nothing.
Pulling back on the reins, Suzanne brought Mocha to a dead halt. And wondered again if she was being silly. Rushing out here in the middle of the storm because she’d had a crazy, weird hunch that something might be wrong?
I should go back, she told herself. Before my horse slips and we both break our fool necks out here.
As she dipped her head, trying to decide what to do, she suddenly spotted a hint of blue up ahead through the thrashing trees!
That has to be Sam’s BMW!
Feeling relieved and a little embarrassed now that she knew Sam was perfectly safe, she walked her horse toward the car.
As she drew closer, she saw that Sam’s BMW had been driven clean off the road. And directly behind it sat a red car. Strangely enough, both cars appeared to be empty and there wasn’t a person in sight!
Cautiously, Suzanne approached the two cars.
So where was the accident? she wondered. What was going on? Had an ambulance already arrived to haul away the injured?
That’s probably the exact scenario, she decided. And here she was, trying to charge in like the cavalry, when there was nothing left to do.
Okay, she’d simply circle the cars, make sure everything was cool, and then cut and run. Try to forget this ever happened. That she’d overreacted like some kind of paranoid cuckoo bird.
That was the precise moment lightning crackled overhead, and a photo-strobe flash illuminated a pair of legs sprawled on the pavement ahead.
What?
As well as someone leaning over them.
Suzanne’s heart suddenly lurched into the back of her throat.
Who’s hurt? Sam? What happened?
Then the proverbial lightbulb winked on in Suzanne’s head and she could think of only one terrible answer!
Tasered? Please don’t tell me Sam’s been Tasered!
That single word burst inside her brain like a thousand fragmented pieces.
She drew closer, hoping she was wrong, daring herself to look as she trotted past the red car.
And there, just up ahead, kneeling above Sam, holding a plastic bag over his face, was the slim form of Carla Reiker!
Suzanne didn’t stop to scream. She didn’t try to put two and two together because there simply wasn’t time. Instead, she dug her heels into Mocha’s flanks and sent her big horse into a wild, full-force gallop. Grasping the saddle with her right hand, she slapped the reins against his neck to drive him even harder. And like a medieval knight in a joust to the death, Suzanne charged directly at Carla Reiker.
Reiker didn’t see her coming until the very last second. Maybe she caught a quick flash of Suzanne on her galloping horse, or maybe she felt the thunder of Mocha’s hooves on the pavement. In any case, Reiker sprang to her feet like a scalded cat, her mouth grimacing in surprise.
Mocha’s broad shoulder sideswiped Reiker hard as he galloped past, spinning her around and knocking her flat to the ground. Reiker was momentarily stunned, but not three seconds later, she clambered to her feet. She stared in shocked bewilderment, caught in the act. And, when recognition finally dawned, when she saw it was Suzanne who sat astride the horse, she screamed out, “Yoooouuuu!”
Suzanne reined Mocha into a tight circle and charged again. But Reiker was smart, wily, and highly trained in combat. This time, as Suzanne skimmed past, Reiker managed to lean over and deliver a hard karate chop to Suzanne’s upper thigh.
The blow was dead-on and landed so hard Suzanne gasped in pain. Could she do this? she wondered. Could she fight against Reiker and win? No, she had to do this. Trying wasn’t an option. Facing off against this woman and winning was what she had to do! After all, Sam was lying out cold on the pavement, helpless, with a plastic bag stretched across half his face!
Once again, Suzanne spun Mocha around, ready to drive hard at Reiker. But this time Reiker was more than ready for her. She stood in the rain, her feet spread wide apart, and with a look of triumph on her angry, determined face, held up her hand and brandished her Taser! There was a hum and a nasty crackle as she turned it on.
Suzanne’s brain was in a whirl. She’s going to use the Taser on Sam again? Or on me? Or on Mocha?
Feeling frantic now, Suzanne wondered just how many volts Mocha could absorb? How many volts could she absorb? And did she really have the guts to find out?
But Suzanne was determined to make a stand. There was no turning back now—the duel was on and there would only be one winner!
She guided Mocha down the narrow berm of the road, past Sam’s car, and around Reiker’s car. This was going to be it. She would regroup, make an all-out charge against Reiker, and take this crazy woman down once and for all!
Suzanne hunched forward like a jockey, knotting herself into what she hoped was a smaller target. Then she urged Mocha into a fast trot, ready to kick him into a full gallop.
And just as she flashed past Sam’s car, she saw his fishing rod, sticking partially out his back window. Quick as a snapping turtle, Suzanne reached out and grabbed the fly rod.
Out of the corner of his eye, Mocha saw Suzanne grab the whiplike rod and nervously crab-stepped hard to the left. But Suzanne was an experienced rider and quickly brought him back under control. “Easy, easy,” she told the big horse, trying to settle him down as she spun the rod around and got a firm grasp on its
cork handle. She hunched forward in her saddle again, gritting her teeth, unaware she was making a hum like an angry hornet. She gave one mighty “Hyah!” and sent her horse flying.
Using the fishing rod as a whip, she descended upon Carla Reiker like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse!
The first stinging blow opened a jagged cut on Reiker’s cheek and drove her backward a good five feet. Stumbling, roaring in pain, the Taser suddenly flew from Reiker’s hand. It hit the blacktop, cracked open, and rolled harmlessly away.
Eyes filled with rage, Reiker touched a hand to her face to check the trickle of warm blood. Jerking her hand away, she gazed at the bloody smear and let out a bellow like a stuck pig.
Not wanting to ease up on her attack, Suzanne spun Mocha around and slashed at Reiker again. This time she opened a huge gash directly over Reiker’s left eye.
“Take that!” Suzanne cried as rivulets of blood coursed down Reiker’s face.
Screaming bloody murder, wiping frantically at her face, Reiker backpedaled like crazy. In doing so, she stumbled on the broken Taser, tripped, and began to topple over backward. Her arms whipped out to her sides making futile gestures while her feet paddled in the air. But nothing would save her. She was out of tricks! Reiker hit the pavement hard, her head striking it first and bouncing like a ripe cantaloupe. A low moan escaped Reiker’s lips and her hands curled into fists. Then, amazingly, thankfully, the maniac lay perfectly still!
Leaping from her horse, Suzanne flung herself down on the wet pavement. In one smooth and forceful motion she ripped the hunk of plastic off Sam’s face and threw it aside.
He was white as a sheet and barely breathing. Suzanne didn’t know if he’d been Tasered repeatedly or suffocated to the point of unconsciousness! But she knew she had to do something!
“Breathe!” she screamed. “Take a breath, baby!” And then, because she knew his life was totally in her hands, that no medevac helicopter was going to drop from the sky and assist her, she cupped her fists together, raised them up high, and brought them down hard against Sam’s chest.
“Live!” she yelled out. “You’ve got to live!”
CHAPTER 26
HER hands pressed together, Suzanne began chest compressions as she knelt on the cold, unforgiving ground. She punched the center of Sam’s chest with fast, forceful moves, alternating each hit by leaning forward and giving him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
He’s not getting enough air, Suzanne thought wildly. He needs more air to bring him around!
Suzanne continued to labor over Sam, alternating compressions with breathing, for what felt like hours, though it was probably only a minute or two. And just as Sam let out a sharp gasp, she heard the sound of a vehicle pulling up behind her, of someone stopping.
Now what? More trouble?
She managed a quick glance and saw an old pickup truck. And was truly stunned when she saw Jake Gantz’s face bobbing toward her through a sheet of rain.
“Jake!” she cried out.
Jake shuffled closer. His mouth hung open and surprise lit his face. “Is that the doc?” he asked, looking down at Sam. “Is he hurt bad?” His eyes shifted to Carla Reiker, who was still out cold on the pavement. “Is she hurt, too?”
“I’m trying to . . .” Suzanne had run out of words because she’d practically run out of breath.
“I . . . I’ll get a blanket!” said Jake, as Suzanne kept working.
Her shoulders were burning, her breath was coming in short, stuttering gasps, but she wasn’t about to stop. But she was still scared to death. Oh yes, she was scared as she mumbled a hasty prayer. And though she wasn’t able to recall her exact words later on, she knew they were something to the effect of, Please help me, dear Lord. You’re all I’ve got right now!
Suddenly, just as Suzanne was starting to despair, just as she was about to let fear overwhelm her, Sam’s eyes fluttered and he let loose a low groan. Then his lips parted and he sucked in an enormous glut of air.
“That’s it!” Suzanne whispered excitedly. “Breathe! Just breathe!”
Sam’s chest lifted as he gulped more air and his eyes fluttered again. And then, seconds later, when he appeared to be breathing just fine on his own, he opened his eyes fully and stared directly up at Suzanne.
“I’m here, Sam. I’m here for you,” she said.
He continued to look at her, to practically drink in her every feature.
“Do you know where you are?” Suzanne asked as she peered at him anxiously. Please answer me. Please don’t have brain damage or something awful like that.
Sam slowly raised his right hand, crooked his head, and gave her a questioning look. Then he touched his fingers to his forehead, almost as if he had to confirm that he was still very much alive.
“Do you know where you are?” Suzanne asked him again.
“I think so,” Sam rasped, finally answering her question.
“Do you remember what happened?”
Sam licked his lips. “Crazy lady tried to suffocate me.” His voice was hoarse and papery, but a little stronger now.
He’d come back to her. Yes, he had!
“That’s exactly right,” said Suzanne. Relief flooded her voice and she allowed herself a small smile. Her hands were patting his chest now, making little involuntary circular motions as hot, salty tears coursed down her cheeks. “But she won’t ever touch you again!”
And then, out of the blue, a lopsided grin suddenly spilled across Sam’s face. And he croaked out, “Suzanne. Sweetheart. What took you so long?”
* * *
WITH Sam sitting cross-legged on the pavement, breathing much better now as he slowly regained his bearings, Suzanne turned her attention to Carla Reiker.
“Did she hurt the doc?” asked Gantz. He was eyeing Reiker’s still form, stretched out where she’d fallen.
Suzanne nodded. “She sure tried to.”
“You want me to tie her up?” asked Gantz. “I’ve got some rope in my car.”
“We better check her pockets first,” said Suzanne. “Make sure she doesn’t have any sort of weapon.”
“You do that,” said Gantz. He backed away from Reiker as if she were a poisonous snake.
“Be careful,” Sam croaked out, as he pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders.
Suzanne knelt down beside Reiker and stuck her hands in the woman’s jacket pocket. She probed around gently, looking for a knife or a gun. When her fingers hit something cold and hard, she frowned.
“What?” called Sam. “Did you find something?”
“I don’t know,” said Suzanne. She wrapped her fingers around an object that felt more like a large tube of lipstick and pulled it out. Only it wasn’t a lipstick at all. It was a vial of clear liquid.
“What’s that?” said Gantz. He took a tentative step closer.
Suzanne turned the vial over and stared at a small white label. “It says Dianabol.” She glanced over at Sam and said, “Does Dianabol mean anything to you?”
“It’s a synthetic steroid,” said Sam slowly. “A performance-enhancing drug. Wrestlers use it. So do weight lifters.”
Suzanne’s brain pinged and her eyes locked onto his. “Drummond!” she cried out, recalling his bulging physique, thinking back to her conversation with Boots Wagner about performance-enhancing drugs. “Reiker must have been Drummond’s drug dealer!”
“Drugs?” said Gantz. He sounded frightened.
“That’s why Reiker killed him,” said Suzanne. The pieces and parts of the puzzle were suddenly dropping rapidly into place for her. “Reiker was always right there at the Hard Body Gym, so she must have been his drug connection. But something happened between the two of them. They had a serious falling out.”
“So she killed him,” Sam said slowly.
“Like she almost killed you,” said Suzanne. “And Sheriff
Doogie.”
Sam looked confused. “I can understand why she went after Doogie, but why me?”
“Because Reiker thought you were handling the autopsy,” Suzanne said abruptly. “She figured you were in charge of the whole thing. She was afraid the drugs would show up in the final toxicology report and the whole thing would lead back to her and the Hard Body Gym.”
“You think?” said Sam. He was having trouble buying into her scenario.
“Wait a minute,” said Suzanne. With Gantz following her, she walked back to Reiker’s car and looked inside. On the backseat was a small black nylon gym bag. Inside were two small boxes of vials. All with the label “Schedule 3—Rx only.”
“Wow,” said Gantz, giving Suzanne an admiring gaze. “You’re some smart lady.”
* * *
JAKE Gantz turned out to be a real prince of a guy. He not only grabbed a rope from his car and tied up Carla Reiker, but he wrapped his blanket around Sam and helped him limp over to the passenger side of his car.
Suzanne, meanwhile, pulled out her cell phone and called the Law Enforcement Center. Then she had a very terse conversation with Deputy Driscoll.
When Suzanne was finished, she walked back to where Jake was standing. He was half guarding Reiker, who seemed to be slowly regaining consciousness, and keeping a watchful eye on a still-dazed Sam.
“I just talked to Driscoll at the Law Enforcement Center,” said Suzanne. “Told him all about Carla Reiker and the drugs.” She nodded at Sam. “And about how she tried to kill you, too.”
“And what was Driscoll’s reaction?” asked Sam. “Now that you’ve solved the case right out from under him?”
“Actually, I think he was a little relieved,” said Suzanne.
“He should be,” said Sam. His good humor seemed to be back in full force.
“He also asked if one of us could stay here with Reiker,” said Suzanne. “Until he can get out here and pick her up.”
“I’ll stay,” volunteered Jake. “You take the doc to the hospital and get him checked out.”
Eggs in a Casket (A Cackleberry Club Mystery) Page 27
