Danger Deception Devotion The Firsts

by Lorhainne Eckhart

  “Are you kidding me? Marcie, we can’t leave those kids here with her.”

  Marcie swallowed the bile burning her chest. She grabbed Maggie by both arms. “Take the bags and get in the truck.” She pushed Maggie out of the open door and tossed everything in the back of the truck. Marcie leaned close and whispered to Maggie, “I’ll phone in a tip to the state police when we’re done tonight. If I call now, they won’t do anything. She has a contract. She has resources, and our backs are against the wall.

  “Marcie, I never thought I’d see the day you’d turn your back on some special needs kids, and the most vulnerable, at that. To leave those kids is a heinous…”

  Marcie spun around and cut her off. “Keep your voice down. You and I are both trying to protect someone we love. If you go in there and stir up trouble, it’ll be you and me that ends up in jail, and those kids will end up staying with Sandra. She’ll look like a hero.” Marcie lowered her voice to a mere whisper. “If the sheriff catches her with all the marijuana while looking after those kids, it becomes a different picture.”

  Maggie slammed the tailgate closed and let out a heavy sigh. “Sorry, Marcie. I didn’t mean to accuse you of not caring.”

  “Get in the truck. I’ll be right behind you.” Shake it off, get your bike, and get the hell out of here.

  Maggie started the truck. Marcie lifted the garage door, grabbed a helmet, packed the last backpack with a flashlight and clippers, and then pushed her bike out and fired it up. She didn’t look back. She didn’t close the door, aware that Sandra watched her every move.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  She pushed hard, channelling all of the fear nibbling at her spine into each careful step. The magnificent forest soothed and replenished every tense, out-of-sort, thought that had dogged Marcie during the day.

  Except tonight, something creepy whispered within these deep shadows, bringing the illusion that danger lurked and would pounce at any moment. This doesn’t feel right. Marcie hesitated and struggled to keep her breathing even.

  A full moon tonight added to the mystery, which cast an altered reality from the light of day. She shone her flashlight over the dirt path, but shadows lurked in the ground cover, salal, bushes and cedars; all of nature’s power awakened and adding to this eerie chill.

  Marcie drew a picture in her mind of where she was. The forked path was after the twin cedars and before the brambles opening up into the first garden she’d planted for him.

  Not long ago, she’d rejoiced at being a major part of Dan’s life and had put all her love into growing these plants for him. However, that was before she had been smacked upside the back of the head. That awakening made her face the truth of her role in this drug-related insanity. Now forgiveness for what she’d done was all she wanted—and to protect Sam.

  Left with no other alternative, she pushed on to finish what Dan didn’t have the balls to do. It was what he did. Women did his dirty work all the time, except this time, his charm and charisma wouldn’t work. She began to see him as the monster he truly was. Had he really planted those drugs on Sam? Whether he did or not, his threat worked.

  Something’s wrong. Again, the nagging voice prodded. She swept her flashlight beam over the fork in the path to a clump of overgrown blackberry bushes, which beat any security system around. Who’d be stupid enough to climb through it?

  And there it was, God dammit, Old Rock. She and Dan had chiseled their initials into the front of the huge stone on the first day he’d brought her out here to teach her the art of outdoor cultivation. Amazing how time shifted. Once proud of her exhibit; now she only prayed it’d disappear.

  Behind the big rock, vines lifted, exposing a tiny opening that someone small could crawl through. Sliding on her stomach, Marcie shimmied through dirt and damp ground cover, pushing with the toe of her hiking boot. Halfway under, her backpack snagged on barbed thorns, and a sharp rip split the unnerving silence. Marcie swallowed hard, unable to stifle the terror rocking her insides. What made it worse was that she couldn’t shake a dreaded feeling of being watched. She pushed hard with her foot to scramble forward, but it was no use. She was stuck.

  “For fuck’s sake, I need to be done with him.” Marcie whispered the desperate words and rested her forehead in the dirt. She slid back under the vine to where she’d started and squatted behind the rock. The extra time this took spiked up her already frazzled nerves, and that made her paranoid. Stop it. Maggie’s waiting. She pulled her arms from the thick straps, dropping the backpack. She’d trained for this. She knew what to do. Why was this so hard now? She wanted to cry but refused to give in.

  Keep it together. Trapped by a predator who knew what emotional strings to pull, she had no time to wallow. Ready now, she tried again, this time shoving the nylon backpack on the ground in front of her.

  “Ouch, shit.” A jagged piece of rock dug deep in her knee. She breathed in and out to shake off the sting, forcing herself to keep going to the other side.

  On her hands and knees now, Marcie remained motionless in the clearing. Something wasn’t quite right, so she clicked off her light, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dark. She could see nothing, but her unease persisted. It was probably just Dan and his threat to Sam. Stupid, stupid! Had nothing her granny and Sally taught her sunk in?

  Time was not her friend. The cops, the military—they all knew this was the time of year outdoor crops were ready. Helicopters swept overhead throughout the day, searching isolated areas to seize all marijuana crops. She’d soon find out if hers were gone.

  “Okay, okay, just do it.” This self-talk was a problem tonight. She bit her lip to refocus and snapped on the small flashlight, shining it upon the dead alder and the ring around the base of this once hearty tree, exposing its bitter death. She stood up and tossed her pack over her shoulder, sweeping the light in a wide arc over her mature, budded field. She dropped the backpack, unzipped the pouch, and pulled out a pair of worn handheld garden clippers.

  Tucking her flashlight under her chin, she dangled the strap over her left arm and approached the first plant. She snipped the bud, shutting out the little voice in her head and using the tension to drive her as she cut each mature, leafy bud, dropping them one by one into the plastic-lined backpack.

  Her mishmash alignment of five-foot-high plants was imbedded in her memory. Hurry up. Keep your eyes open and listen. The whispered warning drummed inside her stomach. Louder and louder, her heart hammered, leaving her deaf to the hiss of the night. She was breathing too fast. She forced herself to take even breaths. Calm down. If she was caught, the repercussions would destroy a lot people she loved, and she wouldn’t allow that to happen.

  She reached the last plant, cut, and then tucked the clippers in a side pocket and zipped up her backpack. One final check, she shone her light over the garden just to make sure she didn’t miss any. Okay, girl, make tracks.

  Kicking through the underbrush, she froze. Her throat squeezed shut, threatening to cut off her breathing. Disoriented, she stared at the wild rose bush draping itself over a mature marijuana plant. Her mind scrambled. Think, think. Did I trim it first, or is it a warning?

  Her stomach clenched when her memory cleared. Another step closer to the compromised plant, and there was the bud, ripped off and deliberately stuck through the top leaf. She jerked her head around; consumed now with a rising panic to flee from this warning of someone’s calling card. Gotcha! The stories Dan told of what growers often did in the marijuana show to tip people off were imbedded in her brain. Her secret spot, deep in the woods, had been found.

  Fight or flight bowled her over like a hurricane tide. She looked right, then left. Get out now! Run! Someone’s watching, waiting. You’ve been set up.

  Pure terror had Marcie grabbing the backpack and dropping down, scurrying on her stomach under the vine and into darkness, allowing her ears and sense of touch to guide her. Thorny bushes snagged and pulled, even a sharp sting didn’t register as a need to stop. Instead, pai
n fuelled her desire to escape. Good or bad, whoever was here and had discovered the crop didn’t matter.

  Be quiet. The warning had her crouching behind the rock, trembling. Keeping a frantic grip on the darkened flashlight, Marcie willed her eyes to adjust to the night. She needed to find the path and get the hell out of here.

  Panic urged her to ditch her backpack and move, but an image of Sam popped in her head, along with Dan laughing in the background. “Oh, Sam,” she whispered. A tear leaked out and dripped down her cool cheek. She knew what she had to do, so she closed her eyes, gave herself a good dressing down, and listened to the sounds of night. Time was running out. Come on, suck it up. You can do this. Use those gifts God gave you. Ground yourself. Listen and feel for someone.

  Marcie rose on legs that, for a second, trembled. Then she quietly slung the backpack over her shoulder, and, for one ridiculous moment, said farewell to what was left—the leaf to be cooked down into resin; not where the money was, and definitely not worth the work. Let Dan send someone else. She had the prize—pure, unadulterated and organic, worth its weight in gold.

  A brisk wind rustled the tree branches. She fought an overwhelming urge to bolt down the darkened path but slugged on through this gigantic mistake, carrying this vile bag—her albatross. Not long ago with Dan, she’d delighted in the cover of darkness; except now she knew it was nothing but a bridge to lies, deceit, and everything wicked. This walk on the dark side, tainted with ample opportunity to toy on the wrong side of the road, and you know that in the light of day it remains too hushed, too dangerous to expose. Do you get it now? Oh, she definitely did.

  She’d stashed her dirt bike in the thick brush lining the old logging road where it waited around the next winding bend. Walking faster through the thick forest, she passed the Scottish pine surrounded by ferns. You’re almost there. Marcie agonized, suppressing a driving desire to sprint the rest of the way. She stopped, looked over her shoulder, then pulled out the bike from its hiding spot.

  Panic closed in when she straddled the machine and quickly fired the engine. With her knapsack looped over both shoulders, she let the clutch out. The motor revved and slashed through the silence. She raced down the path. A quick gear change, and then she cut right onto another trail, which led back to the old highway. She could see safety now, even headlights from an approaching car. The ache lessened, and the eerie pull on her back lifted. But until she finished every garden she had planted, none of them were safe.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Still spooked, she tossed Maggie the pack. Who was watching them? Was it Dan, his friends, or someone else? She killed the idle on her dirt bike. “You see anyone?”

  Maggie froze while packing the bag in the back of the SUV. She whipped her head around, searching behind her in the darkness. “What’s going on? You think someone’s watching us?” She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Marcie, do you?”

  Marcie closed her eyes. Now she was freaking Maggie out. “I don’t know, Maggie. I’m a little off tonight. Just be careful, and don’t take any chances. You’ve got the kids to think of. You cut and run if you think anyone’s watching.”

  “Stop it, Marcie. I’m not leaving you out here alone. Look, we don’t have much time. Let’s just finish this. Where to next? Marcie, come on!”

  Marcie knew she was right. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling of cold terror, of something completely off. “I’ve got ten up by the bridge.”

  “I wish I could help you more, but I don’t know how to cut it.”

  “You shouldn’t even be here!”

  Maggie pressed her palm over Marcie’s mouth. “Stop it—no more. We have four hours left, and if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not stand here rehashing everything over and over.” Under the moonlight, diamond-studded earrings glistened in Maggie’s ears when she swept her hair back.

  “Maggie, your earrings, take them out.”

  “Richard gave me these. I…”

  Marcie gripped her wrist. “Just take them out. We can’t be seen with what we’ve got.” She pointed to the moon. “They reflect the moonlight quite nicely. Good for romance, not for this.”

  Maggie did what she asked and then pulled out the local map and a pen from her pocket. “Show me where to go next.”

  Marcie traced a line and marked off the service road. “Let’s go. That road’s isolated, but make sure you kill your lights before you get to the end. Be careful.” She pulled her helmet on, attached several bags to the back of her bike, and took a shortcut up a trail often used by horses, ATVs, and other bikers in the area.

  After Marcie finished at the bridge, Maggie took the first load back to Sandra's. Marcie knew Dan wouldn’t be around, although he’d check in from a safe distance. He was smart in a cowardly kind of way. He used women, targeting smart, dysfunctional, educated women, letting them do the work, take the risks and the fall.

  Exhausted, Marcie was filled with malice toward a man she’d given everything to. Well, not everything. Worry raced through her mind as she wondered what kind of trouble Maggie would run into at Sandra’s place. Marcie never knew which one of Sandra’s lowlife friends would be hanging around at this time of night. She prayed Maggie could dump the load quickly, leave, and be waiting for her by the time she finished this run.

  Gripping the handlebars, Marcie couldn’t remember ever having been so tired. Her mind drifted, wanting nothing more than to curl up in her soft bed, and that was when she lost her focus. A downed log appeared out of nowhere. Time stood still, as did any awareness of hitting the log, flying through the air, and landing on the ground so hard she rolled.

  She was numb at first, until each of her senses popped back, one by one, completely out of sync. Her dirt bike idled in the distance. A chirping choir of frogs sounded so close she wondered if they were stalking her. On her back, she gazed at the bright moon. A rock stabbed her lower back, and it screamed for relief. Marcie tried to sit up, but a sharp, blinding pain shot upward through her left side. Her right leg burned as if a red hot poker had been jammed into it. Pure agony stole her breath, so she lay back down. If she kept her breathing short and shallow, it wasn’t as bad. Marcie needed to finish, and it was Sam’s face that flashed in front of her, giving her the strength to try again. She rolled to her side and screamed as hellfire shot up her right leg, but she kept going until she leaned all her weight on her left knee. Something wet dribbled down her left arm. In the moonlight, she could see her ripped sleeve and blood coating her skin. She couldn’t tell where else she was hurt. Her head was so heavy. She yanked off her helmet, letting it fall away. Her bike, where was her bike? She lifted her head and listened to the engine sputter and cough, and then nothing but silence.

  Marcie could see her bike outlined in the darkness and tried to crawl on one knee, but the forest began to sway. She locked her arms when dizziness stole her vision, trying desperately not to fall. Her stomach heaved, and she vomited before tipping off balance, hitting the ground with her face. Then, one by one, her muscles gave out. She closed her eyes for a minute to stop the spinning, but the battle was lost when everything went black.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Sam jammed the accelerator, swerving past a few early-morning drivers on Highway 101. “Sam, slow down before you kill someone.” Diane gripped the handle above the door.

  Jesse grabbed the seat behind Sam’s head. “Christ, Sam, slow down.”

  “I fell asleep on the damn couch so I could give her some space and she snuck out through the fucking window! Why! Why would she do it?”

  “You’re not the only one who feels sucker punched, Sam.” Diane flicked on the police scanner.

  “When I find her, I’m going to lock her up.” Sam pounded the steering wheel with the flat of his hand so hard the black wheel dipped.

  “Sam, we don’t know why she left. So let’s find out the story first before you do something that can’t be undone,” Diane snapped.

  “She’s in trouble, someo
ne got to her,” Jesse said,

  Diane jerked around in her seat and eyeballed him. In the rearview mirror, Sam saw something in his friend that kicked all the air out of his stomach.

  “You guys miss what happened yesterday when you saw that lost, vacant girl wandering barefoot through a thorny bush? She was shaking. She could barely hold it together. I knew something was up, but I didn’t expect this. I thought after a good night’s sleep, she’d open up in the morning.”

  “And you’re just remembering to say this now?”

  A siren wailed, blared its horn. Sam could see an ambulance behind him in the rearview mirror. Swearing, he was forced to slow down and pull over. The ambulance blew past.

  “Guys, I got an awful feeling. You don’t think…?”

  Jesse slapped Sam’s shoulder. “You mean do we think you’re being paranoid? Follow them.”

  Diane sliced her hand through the air when she cranked up the volume on the police scanner. “Quiet so I can listen and find out what’s going on.”

  Sam followed at a close pace to the flashing ambulance. Despite his anger at Marcie’s betrayal, he needed to know that she was safe. He knew something was wrong. Jesse was right. She’d been terrified. But what could have happened in the half hour they’d left her alone?

  “It’s an injured biker off the trail.” She pointed ahead to where the ambulance turned onto a forested side road close to the falls.

  Sam intended to turn around, keep looking for Marcie, when a woman standing behind a black SUV ran out and frantically waved at the ambulance. She looked like a soccer mom, completely out of place, wearing black jeans, with her dark, wavy curls swishing against a black hoodie and down vest—the perfect attire for blending into the night—just as the sun cleared the horizon.

  Diane leaned forward, closer to the windshield. “Sam, pull up. Let’s check it out.”