by R. L. Syme
“Shhhhh,” Frances cooed. “Let me take care of this, honey. Give me that gun. You go home to your son, and when you wake up in the morning, everything will be all right again.”
The older woman reached for the gun, but Nikki kept shaking her head and backing up. I edged toward my purse at exactly the wrong time, and both of them looked up at me.
“We don’t have a choice now, Mother.” Nikki sniffed and wiped at her face. “We have to kill her and make it look like a robbery.”
“Let me do this, honey.” Frances touched her daughter’s arm. “You need to be far away from here when she dies.”
“No.” Nikki advanced farther. “I’m going to do this. A mother has to protect her family. This is what happens when people meddle in things that are none of their business.”
“I wasn’t meddling.” I raised my hands higher. “I was trying to help you.”
“You were meddling,” Frances said. “Running around with Henry Savage and coming by my house to try to talk to Austin about his Aunt Claire, thinking I wouldn’t know exactly what you were up to.”
“I came there to talk to you,” I said, wondering why it was so important, in that exact moment, to correct the psychopath’s mother about how exactly I had meddled in their plans to knock off two—no, make that four—people.
“And to ask questions that were none of your business, the way I hear it,” Nikki said, coming another step closer. “I saw your car at my house this afternoon, after Austin picked a fight with me.”
“Taking off work in the middle of your shift.” I clucked my tongue at her. “Was that how you happened to be on a break after Claire stopped by the bank? And you, what, followed her while she followed Henry?”
“You don’t know anything about it,” Nikki said, hissing at me like a viper. “She was the one who started collecting all this money from Henry, when she had some crisis of conscience after a stint in rehab and she wanted to take care of Austin.”
“Why would he get money from Henry?” I asked. “I thought he was Stefan Van Andel’s son.”
Nikki’s chuckle was chilling and it made my stomach lurch. “Yes, well, blackmail is handy when your sister is such a whore, she doesn’t even know who knocked her up after she slept with half the high school at a party one night and the men are all afraid of being outed to their wives after all these years.”
“I thought she was assaulted.”
“That’s sure what she told Henry Savage after he broke up with her, when she wanted to ruin his life.” Nikki shrugged, taking a step toward me. “It wasn’t true, though. Even before Austin was born, Claire told me more than one man might be his father and she didn’t want to be with any of them. And I…” A short, quick sob stopped her voice. “I couldn’t have a baby with Auggie. With the man I actually loved.”
“I’m so sorry, Nikki.” I felt actual compassion for her, and I let it come through my voice. To be so trapped by circumstances…it turned even the best people into desperate crazy people.
“Yes, well. Claire solved all that. And when she finally cleaned herself up and wanted to be a part of Austin’s life, we worked out a little arrangement. She would ask for money from the fathers and we would keep the checks in an account in her name, for Austin when he turned eighteen, when she would get half of it. Then, when he was an adult, we’d let her back in his life. It would have worked, too, if Henry hadn’t—”
“Stop it, Nikki.” Frances tugged on her daughter’s arm. “We need to get out of here.”
“The police are all tied up on the other side of town.” Nikki pointed to the cash register, then at me. “Empty that out.”
“The key is in my purse,” I said, but Nikki reached over the register and turned the key so that the machine burbled to life.
“Don’t lie to me.” She tapped the top with the barrel of the gun. “Now, unload it.”
“You’re not going to be able to get away.” I pushed the button to open it and started unloading all the cash. “There are houses a hundred yards from here. Someone is going to hear the gunshots and see you driving away.”
“Stop talking,” Nikki ordered, gritting her teeth and pointing the barrel right at my head.
I swallowed the rest of the words I’d been about to say and opened the last slot, where all the ones were kept. “This is just the float, y’know. When I don’t have time to go the bank, I put all of the real money in the safe overnight.”
“Shut up.” Nikki looked at her mother. “Let me think.”
“You don’t have to do this.” I rested against the counter, feeling around for anything I could use to strike out and hit her. Nikki was less than ten feet away from me, and if I could get within arm’s reach, I might be able to wound her. Maybe even get the gun away.
I’d never disarmed someone before.
Frances Barnett advanced on the counter and reached across it, slapping me hard on the face. “She told you to stop talking to her. You listen when she tells you something.”
I let myself fall to the floor, hoping I could use the time while Nikki came around the bake case for me to find a weapon.
My father had been right. There should be a gun in the bakery. My father was always right.
“Get up,” Nikki said, running toward me. She was bathed by the backlight from the kitchen, and I rolled over, feeling along the ground, looking for anything I could use.
Nothing.
“Miss Vee?” came a young man’s voice. Nikki swung around toward the door and fired off a shot. While she had the gun pointing away from me, I lunged at her, knocking her to the ground.
The gun flew out of her hands and I heard Frances scrambling for it.
“Miss Vee, where are you?” Leo called out.
“Go, Leo,” I yelled, wrapping my hands around Nikki’s neck. “Run!”
Another shot rang out, and pain ripped through my shoulder. A third shot. I didn’t feel that one land, but my hands released from Nikki’s neck. I collapsed forward, the burning pain spreading through my left side. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. I tried to call out for Leo, to tell him to run again, but I couldn’t speak either.
Everything went dark.
Chapter Thirty
When I woke up, everything was light. I reached around, trying to find Leo, calling out his name. Had he been shot? Was he all right?
Someone’s hand grabbed mine. Big, warm, solid. Like a cloud blocking out the sun, someone’s head moved in front of a light. A moment later, I could finally make out some features.
Leo.
I squeezed his hand. He was alive.
“Don’t move, Miss Vee,” he said. “You’re fine. You’re going to be fine.”
My eyes adjusted to the light and I looked around the room. It wasn’t the bakery. It was…a hospital room. White walls, machines, and people hovering. Leo wasn’t the one who had ahold of my hand. I looked down, past him. Derek had my other hand.
Thank God. He was safe, too.
My head throbbed, and I pointed to the door. “Can someone turn these lights off?”
“You’ve been in surgery,” said a woman’s voice. I could make out a blonde ponytail and a pink set of scrubs. There was a clipboard in her hands. “You might be woozy for a little bit, yet.”
“My head hurts,” I said, releasing Derek’s hand and touching my temple. “Why does my head hurt?”
When my fingers didn’t touch skin, I moved around a little more, and I could feel cloth. More cloth.
“One of the shots grazed the side of your head,” Malcolm said, stepping toward the other side of the bed, opposite Derek. “Another two inches and it would have killed you.”
A grave, heavy feeling settled onto my limbs, and I laid my head back. “But Leo’s okay,” I said, reaching for him.
He grabbed my hand and squeezed. “Not even a scratch.”
“Nikki and Frances escaped after Leo came in,” Malcolm said, almost clinically. “But we caught them before they got across the county line.
”
“I called 9-1-1 and sat with you until the medics got there.” Leo’s voice shook, just the slightest bit, and his grip tightened on mine. “You said some weird stuff, Miss Vee. But I was just glad you were alive.”
“You’re a good kid.” I smiled and closed my eyes, too exhausted to keep looking around at all the people. “Thank you.”
“Nikki confessed to everything when I caught up with her,” Malcolm said, his words halting and tight. “I…” He cleared his throat. “Can we have the room, please?”
I opened my eyes as everyone left. Leo gave my hand one last squeeze and walked out into the hall. Derek mouthed that he would be right outside and I nodded. The doctor remained until the last person left, and she reminded me to press the button if I needed anything.
I had no idea where the button was, but I didn’t ask. I was too desperate for answers.
Malcolm’s face looked gray and shadowed as he sat in Leo’s chair. He was a wreck. Uncombed hair, rumpled uniform. I realized that I had no idea what time or even day it was.
“Tell me what happened, Malcolm,” I said.
“I don’t know what you managed to get out of Nikki, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she told you the whole story, or at least most of it. She was ready to break by the time I found her.” He looked at his hands and I noticed for the first time that he didn’t have his hat on. I was so used to the John Wayne look, I’d missed the fact that he was just a man.
“She mainly babbled at me. I don’t remember all of it.”
“Well, she confessed to killing Claire. And Henry—or rather, both of them killed Henry, and Stefan Van Andel helped them cover it up.” He shook his head.
I sat back, sighing. I knew it.
“I’m sorry about all this, Evangeline.” For an excruciating moment, his tone was achingly soft. But nothing could be done. He hadn’t believed me, and it had gotten Henry killed. And almost Derek. And almost me. While the apology went a long way, I wasn’t in the mood to be self-righteous. I just wanted to know what had happened.
“What about Mike and Jenna?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the door and hoping Leo wouldn’t hear.
“What about them?”
“They were involved in this somehow.”
“What?”
“Jenna tried to plant evidence on Derek, and do not ask how I know that.”
Malcolm swore, rising to his feet. He started pacing and launched into an I-told-you-not-to-get-involved lecture for a few seconds before stopping. This wasn’t the time for lectures, and he seemed to realize that.
“Fine. I won’t ask how you know,” he said. He paced to the door, but he paused before leaving, and I finally looked at him. Malcolm wouldn’t meet my eyes as he whispered, “I really am sorry.”
Then he was gone.
Derek came inside and told me all about his adventure with the fire department. They were able to preserve part of his house, mostly his bedroom, and he’d managed to save his bike. Because the owner of the house had insurance, everything was going to get handled through them. Derek had checked into Scarlet’s old room at the Mockingbird, and we chuckled over that for a long moment.
Leo came back with two cups of coffee and when I turned him down, Derek took the other one. There were comments about the quality of the brew and it felt good to laugh, even though I knew it would be fleeting. The drugs would wear off soon and I would be in pain.
But I would recover.
All pain ends, eventually.
I drifted off to sleep to Derek making jokes about Scarlet’s white sweater coat, and Leo laughing at the idea of me on the back of a Harley. It was as close as I could come to feeling surrounded by family, and it made the coming pain a little more bearable.
When I woke again, the doctor was there, and Derek was asleep on the chair in the corner of the room. I was given a little more darkness, thankfully, when I asked for the doctor to turn the lights off. My head was the only part of me I could really feel, and it still throbbed.
Derek woke up when they switched off the lights and I told him to go back to the Mockingbird. He declined and flipped on the television, explaining how the media had finally descended on Saint Agnes. Scarlet must have been holding back the tide more than I thought, covering for Henry.
Sure enough, on CNN, they were running footage of Malcolm at a bank of microphones, making an announcement about a manhunt for Stefan Van Andel. The media asked about Stefan being the mastermind of this tragedy, and Malcolm Dean actually rolled his eyes on national television.
Malcolm and I knew better, even though he declined to comment. My name never came up, for which I was incredibly grateful. But Stefan got a lot of air time.
It was a great day, other than the being shot part.
When Derek finally shut the TV off, he asked me what Malcolm had said during our closed-doors meeting. I told him as much as I could remember, plus everything Nikki had said in the bakery.
I wanted to tell him that knowing what happened didn’t take the grief away. But he’d learn that his own way. We all did.
Emma stopped by with a big plate of cookies from the bake case at the Matchbakery, and as Derek ate from the plate, I noticed my blonde friend relax around him. They seemed to have become friends—maybe while I was sleeping. I liked the thought of having another friend who’d been through this gauntlet. Despite our rocky start, he was a good guy. One of the best.
I fell asleep listening to the two of them talk about how funny it was to be eating cookies from a crime scene.
It snowed early Sunday morning, and after two days of hospital food, great drugs, and crappy television, I was ready to go home. The whole town looked whitewashed, like God had decided the last week had never happened. Like He was giving us all that snow as a reminder that we weren’t alone.
I often felt like His loudest messages were the ones that used nature to preach their words. The heavens declare, and all that. It was a maxim for a reason.
Peter Mayhew found someone else to preach for me on Sunday. When Derek drove me home from the hospital during the service hour, I realized that the church would be meeting without me for the first time since I arrived in Saint Agnes, just before Halloween. It was strange to think about, especially since I knew how close I’d come to being replaced permanently. At least there’d only be a substitute pastor this week, not forever. Peter had come by the hospital, along with other members of the parish, promising in ominous tones that he didn’t know my life had been in danger, and he wouldn’t let any of this get back to the bishop.
My phone buzzed with a text from my sister on the way home. She’d threatened, on and off during my recovery, to come up to Montana to take care of me. But I promised her I could get around just fine, and there was no need for her to come anywhere.
When we got to my house, I realized that my father had basically filled the entire place with flowers. Remotely purchased, of course. Probably with Emma’s help. There were bouquets on almost every surface, and by the time Derek helped me back to my bedroom, I had seen more flowers than an corsaged senior at the prom.
I loved my dad, but he really did have a tendency to over-do it.
“I could stay here, y’know,” Derek said. He’d helped tuck me in, and there was a bottle of water on my night stand. “If you’d rather not be in the house by yourself.”
“I’ll be fine,” I promised, giving him as much of a smile as I could muster. The pain was kicking in again, and I mostly just wanted to sleep.
“You know, they still haven’t found Stefan,” he said, his features clouding with concern. “I don’t like the idea of you being here alone.”
“The doors are all locked, and there’s no broken window for him to sneak through. Plus, I live next door to the sheriff. I think I’ll be okay.”
Derek didn’t look convinced, but he flipped off the lights. “Emma is going to stop by later to check on you.”
“Good. We need to eat the rest of those crime scene cookies.”
“We were just joking about it this morning.”
“I know, but…” He took a step back into my bedroom. “We still don’t know how Stefan was involved, and he hasn’t been caught.”
He was right, and I knew it. But it was easier to joke about what had happened than to think about the horrific sadness of it all. Derek had lost his wife because Nikki Krantz was so terrified of losing her image—and her ill-gotten money—that she was willing to kill for it. And keep killing for it.
People’s crazy motives didn’t need to make sense to me. Only to them. And Nikki’s crazy had made just enough sense to her that she’d been willing to kill me and Derek and anyone else who might have gotten in her way.
“I’ll be fine,” I said.
“Vangie, if Stefan helped them, then he’s got two homicides on his hands. None of us are safe.”
“Then none of us are safe.” I propped my head to one side, giving him a glare. “Do you need me to find some security blankets for you?”
A dark look passed over his face. “I should go,” Derek said, turning back toward the living room. I wanted to stop him, to apologize for the sarcasm that popped out of my mouth all the time, but I couldn’t.
I wasn’t afraid of Stefan Van Andel. I was pretty sure Nikki had killed him already, and Malcolm just hadn’t found the body. Mike and Jenna Van Andel had already been questioned and released. Apparently, everything I’d heard at Nikki’s house was about them trying to figure out how to clean up after Claire’s mess. Henry hadn’t been the only man she’d blackmailed. He hadn’t been the only one told he was Austin’s father. Who knew how big Claire’s blackmail net had been.
It was the one thing I hadn’t yet talked about with Derek. Claire’s blackmail.
I was pretty sure he didn’t know anything about it, and he still needed to grieve for his wife. It wasn’t worth bringing up. He had suffered enough.
Neither of Leo’s parents had come to see me in the hospital, and truth be told, I wouldn’t have welcomed them. It still felt to me like a lot of this was their fault. Protecting Nikki, at the very least, and collaborating with her, at the very worst. I wished I could adopt Leo to get him away from his toxic family.
