Then what? Attack with a killer flashlight?
She leaned forward to see more of the vault. She saw a leg extended toward her, an adult leg.
Debbie or Jimmy?
She couldn’t tell.
Suddenly, her excavating worked—far better than she’d intended. A massive block of earth wrenched free and, to her horror, she slipped through the opening and fell several feet, landing on the hard ground again. She gasped for breath, then raised her head.
There was Debbie, lying on the floor, Jimmy a few yards away.
She’d found the missing.
Were they still alive?
Or was she too late? And too close, with no weapon, alone and about to join them? Because the killer was either there...or about to come back.
* * *
Aidan ran down the hills to the lower level, then tripped and slid down the last one, landing on his ass. He scrambled to his feet and cut around the little group of trees that led to the main road. It was past midnight, so there was almost no traffic. He ran across the road and headed straight to the restaurant.
Halloween greeted him. Spiders and skeletons and silly grinning cats.
Yes, the place had been set up well.
He slammed his fists against the glass door. There’d been light in the restaurant, and he was sure that, as he approached, he’d seen movement.
But of course, a killer wasn’t going to politely open the door to a cop banging on it like a madman.
“Aidan, do you hear someone screaming for help in there?” he asked himself out loud. “Why, yes, Aidan, I think I do!”
He ripped off his coat and wrapped it around his arm, then made use of his Glock, too, slamming the glass so hard it broke on his first try. Knocking the splintered glass aside, he found the two door bolts, turned them and burst into the restaurant.
It was dark, except for that glimmer of light, the one he’d noticed earlier. Macabre images in plastic and paper hung everywhere. Skeletons seemed to dance on the bar. He moved through the bar and seating area, and hurried to the kitchen in back, hoping he hadn’t taken so long that Tommy Jensen had managed to escape.
He ran into the kitchen, the source of the light. Where the outer area had been dark and filled with creepy-crawlies to celebrate the season, the kitchen was bright and seemed even brighter because the light was reflected by all the steel and chrome. He didn’t see anyone. Swearing, he tore around two workstations.
The back door stood open.
But then, something made him turn. It was as if he’d felt a hand on his shoulder.
He saw the walk-in refrigerator.
Striding toward it, he grabbed the massive handle and yanked it open.
And there was Tommy Jensen, facing him with a frying pan. In a furious burst of rage, Tommy charged him.
He rammed into Aidan; Aidan threw him off and before Tommy could charge again, Aidan lifted his Glock in both hands and aimed it at him. “Where are they?” he raged.
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!” Tommy shouted back. “I’m just working in my restaurant that you’re destroying!”
Aidan moved slowly and steadily toward him.
“I intend to put this gun down your throat and hold it there—after I shoot both of your kneecaps and your groin.”
“You won’t! You can’t! They’ll fire your ass. They’ll put you in jail. And you know what happens to cops in jail—Hell, you won’t be worth flypaper when they’re done!” Tommy mocked him. “You don’t have anything on me, you—”
“When they open your SUV, Tommy, they’re going to find a costume stolen from the Haunted Mausoleum. And there’ll be blood all over it. I don’t know if you or your partner killed Richard and Wendy, but you sure as hell killed Sondra!”
“You’re full of it!”
His denial was firm. Aidan’s mind raced as he took another step toward Tommy.
“Tell him, Tommy. Tell him.”
Aidan realized that the ghost of Richard Highsmith was standing behind him. But Tommy didn’t see him, couldn’t see him.
“You know, the man you killed is here, Tommy. And he’s going to make your life a living hell if you don’t tell the truth.”
“Bull!” Tommy scoffed.
But then a pork loin went flying off a shelf. Followed by a leg of lamb.
And a cut of roast beef. It flew into Tommy’s face. Richard was learning to be an effective ghost—one with good aim, at that.
Tommy fell onto his knees. He ducked and screamed when a pound of bacon came his way.
“Stop, stop, stop!” he cried. “The...Anderson vault...it’s hard to find. That’s where... I think... It’s for the boy. You should hurry.”
Aidan stared at him. “Hurry? God, tell me you didn’t kill them yet!”
“I didn’t even know they were there yet, I swear it!”
“What?”
Tommy laughed, a sickly sound. “Did you think I was behind all this? Really? Hell, the things a man will do for what he wants in life!” He laughed again, a laugh filled with self-mockery. “The things a desperate man will do for a woman. I don’t even believe it myself.”
Aidan barely took the time to close and lock the refrigerator door.
In a strange way, it almost made sense.
* * *
Mo rolled; she hit Detective Voorhaven’s leg and reached out to touch his throat. He was alive. She crawled over to Debbie. Placing her fingers on Debbie’s throat, she heard her make a noise, a sort of moan.
“Debbie, wake up! We have to get out of here,” she said. “Debbie! You’re in a vault.”
“A vault,” Debbie said, opening her eyes. “Jimmy... J.J.?”
“Debbie, come on! The killer—he’s coming back!”
“What about Jimmy?” she asked.
“He’s alive.”
“He is?”
“Yes, but he can’t help us. He’s out cold, Debbie. Let’s start moving. We have to get J.J. out of here first.”
She pulled Debbie to her feet.
And only then did she see that Debbie was holding something in her hand. A big white table napkin. Labeled Mystic Magic.
And it was drenched with something. Chloroform.
Debbie had not been knocked out herself. She’d been faking it, aware that someone was coming close. She’d lured Mo down here, just like a fly to a spider’s web.
But Debbie couldn’t have been the one to kill Sondra. She’d been at the hotel last night with Jimmy—and under surveillance.
“What are you doing?” Mo asked her.
“Securing my future,” Debbie said. “Would you please stand still? I don’t really want to hurt you—and it won’t hurt with the chloroform. You’ll just go to sleep. And you’re such a good person, Mo. You’ll wind up with the angels, I’m sure.
“Decent, beautiful Mo! Back when we were all kids, you whisked in and out from the city, and whenever you deigned to come here, the world stopped—everyone always wanted to see you! Well, I’m sorry. I didn’t really wish you ill, but you’re here, which leaves me no choice. Here’s how it’s going to work. Jimmy has to kill you and the boy—and leave me crying and hysterical, because, of course, I managed to wake up and kill him before he could kill me.”
Mo stared at her incredulously. “How stupid do you think the police are?”
Debbie laughed. “Pretty stupid. My partner carried out part of my plan last night, right in front of you all. You idiots—you and Grace and everyone—just watched him go by. And the cops? Hopeless. They still don’t have a clue.”
“Your partner?”
“You really have no idea, do you? Well, I won’t let you die in the dark—That’s funny, huh? Tommy. Tommy Jensen. That man would do anything for me.
The rest of you girls ignored him all his life. Tommy wasn’t sexy. Tommy wasn’t cool. Well, he wanted someone to love. He got me. And when I told him what we’d achieve in the end...he knew he’d get me and everything he could possibly want.”
Mo hunkered down and carefully lifted J.J. from the stone tomb as she spoke. “Listen, Debbie, if you haven’t actually killed anyone yet—if Tommy did the killing—then you can work out a deal. You can still have a life.”
“Oh, I intend to have a life.” Debbie chuckled. “I’ll be so far away from here they’ll never find me.”
“Wendy was your friend,” Mo said. “And you love J.J.”
“I used Wendy. Well, actually, the plan came from Wendy, although she didn’t realize it. After she told me what she’d discovered, all I had to do was get rid of anyone with a connection to the Highsmith name. And when J.J.’s gone, they’re all gone.”
“Debbie, you went to the convention center and helped kidnap Wendy and J.J. How did you know they were going to be there?”
“Oh, Wendy confided in me, of course! She told me everything she’d researched and found out—and she told me she was going to see Richard and give it all to him. They’d been talking over the past few months. She’d been in New York and she’d run into him on the street and he told her he’d been thinking about her and...well, there’s nothing as nauseating as rekindled love.”
“How did you get into the greenroom at the conference center?”
“Through the back, of course. Tommy had arranged to make some food deliveries—for friends of his in the business. He didn’t have a contract to supply food himself. That could’ve been traced. We both know the center well enough, and it’s actually pretty easy to get in if you’re doing food delivery. All that security didn’t make a bit of difference,” she gloated. “But that’s the thing. People think they’re secure—and as soon as they trust in the technology of a place like that, they forget that other people might know about codes and security, too. Or be able to figure them out...” She chuckled. “I dropped by to see Bari Macaby a few weeks ago and went out for a smoke with her—and I don’t even smoke!”
“Even if you planned this to the nth degree, you’re not getting away with it. The cops are going to find you here,” Mo said.
“I’m planning on it. Remember? After Jimmy killed you and J.J., and I had to kill him? Oh, and I guess your dumb mutt will be collateral damage. I heard some screeching a while ago—sounded like a dying dog to me,” Debbie taunted.
The words were like a sucker punch, but Mo knew she was being baited and she refused to fall for it. Debbie had a hatchet within easy reach, and she already had the knife. But Mo had her flashlight—and a desperate will to survive.
“I still don’t understand. Why?” Mo asked.
“Why? Because of Lizzie’s grave, of course. And the fact that if there’s a living descendant, what’s inside the grave would go to him or her.”
“It’s the Continental currency, isn’t it?” Mo asked, the certainty rushing in. “You’re not psychotic or jealous or in any way mentally impaired, are you, Debbie? It was about money. By the way, Aidan knows all this.”
“About the Continental currency? No one does. At least not as much as I know.”
“Yes, they do,” Mo said. Except that she wasn’t sure exactly what Debbie knew.
“You’re lying!”
“I’m telling you the truth. Sondra Burke was researching the story.”
“Yes, she was, wasn’t she? I heard her speaking once—and she was telling her audience about the currency disappearing. I didn’t know she’d mentioned it to you.”
Mo laughed. “She was going to give you a job, to help her work on the story. But you’d already guessed some of it, hadn’t you? When Lizzie—the daughter—was buried, someone buried the money with her. The family had it all along, and it was buried with Lizzie for safekeeping until the war was over. But it was never dug back up. I’m presuming that a family member—killed in the Civil War—put it in Lizzie’s grave. And afterward, only rumors of it existed. I think, however, that reading soldiers’ letters and memoirs, Sondra figured it out.”
“Well, well, how ironic. But not only did Sondra know about the currency, she would’ve had a claim on it. Yes, I’d heard about the Highsmith connection, distant though it was, because she was quite proud of it. I heard her discuss her revered great-great-grandfather, the colonel, in an interview, and eventually I put two and two together—with Wendy’s help.”
Debbie shook her head. “You look skeptical, Mo, but I suppose you thought you knew everything about local history. According to Sondra, the currency was buried with Lizzie. We’re all about Sleepy Hollow and the Revolution here—seems like we forget that the years went on and there was more history.” She shook her head in mock dismay. “I first read about it when I found an article in some obscure journal about a Bakker who’d been killed during the fighting at Gettysburg. It was said that he told his friends about a ‘buried treasure’ for his family back home. Do enough research, and you just never know what you’ll discover. Too bad I can’t dig up the whole place, really.”
“News flash, Debbie. Continental currency isn’t good these days.”
“I can tell you what it’s worth on the collectors’ market,” Debbie said. “I looked into it.”
“But you don’t have it yet, do you? And if you were to put it on the market, you’d be picked up in seconds flat. Things like that don’t go unnoticed.”
“Oh, trust me, there’s an underground market. Money makes the world go ’round, Mo. I learned that the hard way. You all had nice parents. I had assholes. I’ve made my own way in this town forever and I’m ready to shake off the dust of this place. But I had to make sure the Highsmith heirs were all gone first. And Wendy, because she figured it out. Plus, she was getting back together with Richard.”
“And then there’s J.J.,” Mo breathed.
Debbie nodded. “I would’ve had a couple of options. J.J. loves me. I could’ve kept him around and used him—you know, in case something went wrong and people thought the money belonged to the kid. I’d be in control of it!”
“Not if you kill him!” Mo pointed out.
“Well, another option is that I can make myself look like a hero by saving J.J.—and making Van Camp look like a homicidal cop!”
“And you involved Tommy.”
“Easy as pie. I guess you never paid much attention to Tommy. Growing up, no one ever did. He was a loser. He had acne and he was clueless and awkward. Poor Tommy. He was so willing to get into this scheme with me. So helpful. He even broke into Wendy’s for me to steal her computer, and he trashed the place so it wouldn’t look obvious. Mo, he thinks he hit pay dirt with me. I haven’t decided what I’ll do about Tommy. But for now...I convinced him we’d put one over on the cop—and then just walk away.”
“I doubt it. They probably have Tommy by now—and he’s probably telling them everything.”
“He would never betray me. He wanted to do all this. He wanted to help me. Mo, he swore he’d do anything for me! I told him I could handle this and that when they found me, I’d convince them it was the detective. Then Aidan could go on thinking that yes, Highsmith’s people were involved. Which is exactly what he thinks, you know. I realized that whenever I overheard him talking about what happened—and I made a point of overhearing him. Now it’ll all fit together. Aidan will figure they were in on it with the detective. He’ll spend the rest of his life wondering, but he’ll never prove anything!”
“But Tommy—”
“When they find me here and they know this has all taken place when Tommy wasn’t anywhere nearby—well, he’ll be in the clear.”
“So Tommy did what he did out of...love. Some screwed-up, twisted kind of love.”
“You could say that. But I can tell you he started t
o like it. Killing—even just hearing a killing that you orchestrated—is exhilarating! And maybe we’ll share the treasure. That’s what I promised him, anyway. But...we’ll see.”
“You said Wendy helped you put it all together....” Mo decided to keep her talking. It worked in mystery novels and suspense movies—and at this point she had nothing to lose.
“Yeah, it was just a matter of sorting out all the pieces. See, Sondra knew about the currency and she knew the tale about Lizzie, but like I told you, she didn’t know who Lizzie had become. The little girl, Lizzie, I mean, who married into the Highsmith family. I did—because of Wendy! Sweet Wendy, who loved to confide in me! Anyway, I’m probably running out of time. They’ll come here, and they have to find you and the kid and the detective dead—and me bleeding.”
“You’ve not only betrayed Wendy, you’re an idiot,” Mo said flatly. “Aidan’s figured all of this out.”
Debbie lifted the knife. “No. He thinks I’m beautiful and kind. Ask him! You know, I wanted to be nice to you, Mo. You were always decent—at least before. But I guess you’re as big a jerk as the others.” Debbie started to move her arm; Mo eluded her, dashing to the other side of the low flat tomb.
In her flurry of movement, she kicked Jimmy Voorhaven’s arm.
She thought he stirred.
Debbie made another lunge for Mo, and Mo jumped back against the tomb again.
Then Jimmy started to move in earnest. Debbie swore—and raised the knife to bring it down on him. Mo started to fly at her, but she didn’t have to. She heard a roar as Rollo came running out of the darkness and shadows. He leaped at Debbie, knocking her off her feet. But Debbie still had the knife and Rollo’s throat was vulnerable.
“Here! Rollo, here!” Mo commanded. She wouldn’t risk a human life for her dog, but neither would she let him die needlessly.
He scrambled back to her—just in time to miss the blade of the knife.
Debbie staggered to her feet at the same moment Jimmy did. He reached for his gun, but it was gone. She’d apparently had the sense to disarm him. He was weaving as he stood, still drugged, barely conscious.
Heather Graham Krewe of Hunters Series, Volume 4 Page 89
