by Laura Childs
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* * *
Theodosia knew she had to regroup. She needed to calm down, gather her thoughts, whisper a prayer, and figure out an escape plan. When nothing of particular brilliance struck her, she lay on her back and thumped the bottoms of her feet against the metal grate. Tried to kick it out.
All it did was rattle loudly.
“I have a gun, you know,” Sybil said. “In case you go all ballistic on me.”
Theodosia stopped kicking the grate. She rolled back onto her hands and knees and peered into the front of the van. Sybil wasn’t kidding. There was a gun sitting on the seat next to her. An ugly matte-black pistol.
“You killed Willow,” Theodosia said.
“Good girl. Now you figure it out,” Sybil said.
“And Henry Curtis?”
“He was sniffing around, asking questions. He was getting way too close, just like you were. Then when he confessed—under some duress, I might add—that he was about to meet with you, well . . . he had to go.”
“And now me?”
“Such a brilliant deduction.”
“Did you steal Willow’s computer, too?” Theodosia asked.
“Yup. It’s called misdirection, in case you’re interested.”
“And now you’re wearing Willow’s earrings,” Theodosia said in a dry voice.
Sybil actually smiled. “Nice touch, huh? Too bad I have to sell them.” She shrugged. “But that’s life. Easy come, easy go.”
“And the matching pendant?”
“Got that, too. Although it took a little more work on my part.”
Theodosia clenched her hands as a fiery red bomb seemed to explode in her brain.
She shot Riley. This is the crazy person who shot Riley.
Theodosia wanted to scream, gnash her teeth, and rip Sybil from limb to limb. But she couldn’t right now because she was trapped. Theodosia took a deep breath and forced herself to swallow her anger. It tasted terrible.
“We could end this right now,” she finally said. “You could simply pull over and let me out. We could both walk away from this.”
“Hah!” came Sybil’s sharp bark. “Like that’s going to happen. Now shut up and enjoy the ride.”
“Where exactly are we going?” Theodosia asked.
She pressed her face against the grille and saw they were flying down Tradd Street. Okay, they hadn’t gotten all that far yet. This thing could still be resolved, right?
“Sybil?”
“I said shut up. Your chatter is annoying,” Sybil said. The van careened left, and they were suddenly flying down Concord. She reached a hand out and grabbed the pistol, clanged it against the grate. “Settle down.”
Theodosia retreated to the back of the van. As her panic hit an all-time high, she searched around frantically. She needed something—a weapon, any kind of weapon—so she could fight back if the chance arose.
Her fingers fluttered across the stiff hunk of carpet, then onto a rubber mat.
Was there nothing at all?
No, she had to keep searching!
Theodosia’s fingers finally touched a thin piece of metal that was half-hidden under the rug.
What’s this?
She eased it out and found herself clutching a wire coat hanger.
Yes. This could work. No, it has to work!
Working as fast as she could, Theodosia straightened out the wire hanger, then pinched it together to form a long piece with a hook at the end.
If she could slide it through the grate and maybe snatch the keys from the ignition, then she could stop the van!
Still on her knees, Theodosia crept forward until one shoulder was pressed up against the grate.
Now all she had to do was slip the hanger through one of the slots and try to hook those keys! But she had to do it fast!
Theodosia drew a deep breath, then poked the hanger through, aiming for the keys.
“What are you doing?” Sybil screamed. “Stop that right now!”
Theodosia ripped the wire hanger back. As ridiculous and pitiful as the straightened hanger was, it was her only weapon.
Sybil turned, anger burning like red-hot coals in her eyes, and started to reach for her gun.
No!
Quick as a serpent’s bite, Theodosia jabbed her hanger back through the grate and poked hard at Sybil’s freckled little hand. The metal tip broke the surface of her skin and raised a thin line of blood.
“Ouch!” Sybil cried as she jerked her wounded hand back. “That move is going to cost you. I don’t just have to shoot you in cold blood, you know. I can draw it out, make the pain last a lot longer.”
An ice pick of fear stabbed at Theodosia’s heart.
No, nada, not happening, Theodosia told herself. I gotta get myself out of this mess. So I have to make this count . . .
Theodosia pulled her weapon back and, like a fencer aiming a thin, deadly rapier, drove it directly at Sybil’s face. The tip skimmed through a fluff of hair, caressed her cheek, and skittered into the corner of her eye.
Not hard enough to actually poke her eye out, but . . . well, maybe that hard. Because this was life and death after all!
Sybil let loose a piteous shriek. “Agggh! You stuck me, you crazy witch. It hurts! I can’t see! I’m blind! You blinded me!”
Theodosia was more concerned with the immediate danger on the road than Sybil’s visual acuity. The van was dipping and dodging drunkenly through all kinds of traffic.
“Put your foot on the brake!” Theodosia screamed. Signs flew by, red lights flashed up ahead, and she could see they were rapidly approaching a major intersection. “Do it now! Pump the brake!”
But Sybil was still screaming her lungs out, like a banshee whose wings had caught fire.
“Damn you, it hurrrrts!”
The van blasted right through the intersection. Horns honked, brakes screeched, angry drivers yelped at them. No matter, Sybil continued to scream at the top of her lungs as the van careened forward.
Now they’d just sailed past the public pier toward Waterfront Park!
“Owwww!” Sybil warbled. “My eye is killing me!”
“Sybil, you have to stop the van!” Theodosia cried. The van was rolling along at thirty miles an hour, then thirty-five. “You’re completely out of control! We’re going to . . .”
Sybil was spewing words, her voice entirely unintelligible, just a soundtrack of curses and moans as she pulled a hand from her face and made a half-hearted, one-handed grasp for the steering wheel. In doing so she caused the van to slalom hard right and cut across an entire lane of traffic. More horns blared as the van’s right front tire bounced up and over the cement curb.
BUMP! BAP!
Seconds later, the entire van jounced up and over the curb. Now they were churning along on a level piece of grass.
A park? was Theodosia’s first thought. We’ve gone off the road and into a park?
But the van’s speed hadn’t tapered off one bit!
With the Cooper River just to their right, Theodosia was suddenly in a blind panic. What if, in Sybil’s crazed mental state, she decided to end it all and drive them right into the river? Theodosia could just imagine the van shooting over the edge of the precipice, then tumbling slowly, end over end, into that dark, cold water. In seconds they’d plunge below the surface.
Could I kick out a window and escape?
Didn’t happen that way, thank goodness.
Instead, the van continued to roar down a patch of dry grass, churning up turf, kicking up sticks and stones in its wake. They were completely out of control!
Theodosia made a second try at hooking the keys, but Sybil was thrashing around so much she ended up poking her leg instead.
“Ouch!” Sybil’s leg kicked out in a knee-jerk reaction, and she graze
d the brake pedal, helping to slow them down a touch. There was another terrifically hard BUMP and CRUNCH as the van sideswiped something—a park bench?—and then they slewed sideways with a sickening tilt.
Theodosia flew up, her head smashing against the ceiling of the van. Then they were rolling, tumbling, almost in slow motion. Until the van hit what felt like a brick wall—SMACK—and shuddered to a stop.
35
Am I dead yet?
That was Theodosia’s first thought when she opened her eyes.
Then she scraped herself off the floor—or was it the ceiling?—and stared at a windshield threaded with a galaxy of cracks.
Where am I?
DRIP. DRIP. DRIP.
The sound was loud and unmistakable.
What is that? Gasoline gushing out of the gas tank? Oh no, please don’t tell me this stupid van is about to catch fire!
Theodosia was terrified. Something was leaking slowly into the van. There was a sense that the carpet beneath her was getting wet.
Then she heard a louder sound of cascading water.
Theodosia pulled herself into a kneeling position and stared out. Amazing! They’d landed in Charleston’s famed Pineapple Fountain. It was one of Charleston’s major landmarks and meant to represent hospitality. Theodosia had never been so happy to see it in her life.
Water. Not gasoline. A lucky break.
Sybil was still moaning as Theodosia worked to pry the grate off—thank goodness it had come loose in the crash! She levered it away from its moorings, seesawing it back and forth as Sybil opened her eyes and suddenly scrambled for her gun!
Faster than a sidewinder rattlesnake, Theodosia tilted the grate and smashed it against her. Sybil’s head snapped back, and she was rocked sideways. But only for a moment. With an angry grimace, Sybil struggled to free herself and lunged for her gun again.
Theodosia saw Sybil clawing toward the gun, so she swiped a hand out and batted it away. The gun skittered across the seat and landed on the floor. Or was it the ceiling? Theodosia still wasn’t sure which way was up or down.
Sybil’s arms flailed wildly, then she pulled her hands into claws and turned toward Theodosia, trying to scratch her face.
“Oh no you don’t!” Theodosia cried.
She balled up a fist, cocked her arm, and let fly. As she connected hard with Sybil’s nose there was a loud crunch and the girl’s eyes crossed.
Sybil’s mouth dropped open in shock. As if she couldn’t believe Theodosia had fought back.
“You broke my nose!” Sybil shouted, her words sounding heavy and sluggish.
Blood streamed down her face as Sybil howled in pain. She doubled over, made a horrible gurgling sound in the back of her throat, and clutched her broken nose with both hands.
“You hurt me!” Her voice rose in a piteous, bubbling shriek, like she was talking underwater. And Sybil was not only angry, she sounded accusatory! “I thought you were a lady!” she screamed.
“A lady who’s smart enough to get herself out of trouble,” Theodosia said. She leaped into the passenger seat, kicked open the door, and bailed out.
Just as Theodosia squirmed from the wrecked van, two police cruisers swerved onto the grass, heading in her direction. Their light bars pulsed blue and red, sirens piercing the night. Had the officers seen the van careen through the stop sign? Had they heard the blaring of horns, the screeching of brakes? Were they out to give the crazy van driver a speeding ticket? Theodosia didn’t care why they’d suddenly appeared; she was just overjoyed to see them.
“Help!” Theodosia cried as she half limped, half ran toward the police cruisers. “I need help!” She waved her arms frantically, hoping they’d see how disheveled she was, that they’d understand she was in serious distress.
Another car, an older model that was following them, drove up onto the grass and rocked to a hard stop some ten feet away.
“Please help!” Theodosia called again. Every muscle in her body ached, and she felt sick to her stomach.
Wait. Is that . . . ?
The passenger door of a Crown Vic suddenly burst open, and Theodosia was stunned to see Pete Riley jump out!
“Riley?” Theodosia’s voice was a surprised, almost cautious squeak. Then she found her voice, cried his name with joy, and promptly sagged in relief. She’d never been so glad to see anybody in her entire life.
But the surprises didn’t end there.
The driver’s side door flew open, and Detective Tidwell climbed out. He stared at Theodosia, then grabbed for his belt and hitched up his pants.
Theodosia paid no attention to Tidwell. She couldn’t care less. It was Riley she was laser focused on as he ran toward her, one arm still in a sling.
“Theodosia!” he cried. “You’re hurt! What happened?”
Theodosia couldn’t quite find the words.
Riley grabbed for her, fumbling one-handedly, and pulled her close. “Are you hurt?”
Theodosia slid into Riley’s arms as carefully as she could and laid her head against his shoulder. Then she finally found the presence of mind to answer him. “I think I’m okay. Mostly bumps and bruises.” Tears stung her eyes.
“You’re really all right? Please be all right,” Riley whispered.
“I am,” Theodosia managed. Then she nodded, as if to reassure him as well as herself. “Now that you’re here.”
Riley’s lips gently caressed her forehead, then moved down to kiss her full on the lips.
Theodosia, for the first time in her life, suddenly understood what an old-fashioned swoon was like.
So this is what it feels like. To practically faint with relief. And happiness.
Theodosia kissed him back, loving him, reveling in the feeling of being safe and cared for as Riley’s good arm held her tight and made small, calming circles on her back. Finally, she pulled back, caught her breath, and said, “Now I know I’m okay.”
Riley released her and held her out at arm’s length. “Who . . . ?”
“Sybil,” Theodosia said. Just saying her name made Theodosia feel ragged and fluttery, as if she’d escaped a terrible fate. Which she probably had. “It was Sybil all along.”
“Who?” Riley’s eyes bored into her, and his brow furrowed in frustration. He sounded as if he’d been caught completely off guard and never heard the name before.
“Sybil, the intern at the Heritage Society,” Theodosia said. “She’s . . . she’s still in the van. Pretty banged up I guess.”
Riley shook his head, not quite comprehending her words.
“There was no Sybil on our radar,” he said.
“She wasn’t on mine, either,” Theodosia said. “That’s why she was able to . . .” Her hands made twirling gestures, trying to fill in the words.
“Detective Riley!” Tidwell shouted. He was standing ten feet from them, looking crabby. Officially crabby. “Stop fooling around over there and have the uniformed officers check that crashed van. Start earning your pay grade!”
“I’m on it, sir,” Riley said. He kissed Theodosia once more and then got busy.
36
“How did you get here so fast?” Theodosia asked, once she was back in Riley’s arms. “How did you know I was in trouble?”
“You went missing. What was I supposed to do?” Riley said. “I came looking for you and saw a van speeding down the alley. Then I found your mask lying on the ground and put two and two together . . .”
“And put out a call . . .”
“And guess who answered.”
They both looked over at Tidwell, who was shaking his head and glowering at Sybil as one of his officers pushed her into the back of a cruiser. Theodosia was delighted to see she was securely handcuffed.
An officer drove Theodosia and Riley back to the Featherbed House. Theodosia was worried that Drayton, Haley, and Angie would thi
nk the worst—that she’d actually disappeared into the netherworld. Or been abducted, which she actually had been.
They were stunned when she walked through the front door!
“Where did you run off to?” Haley demanded. “You missed Drayton’s recitation.”
“Thank goodness you’re here!” Angie cried.
“We thought you were kidnapped by Pepper’s Ghost!” Drayton cried.
Theodosia gave a nervous chuckle. “You’re not going to believe this, but I kind of was.”
She told them the full story then, scary parts and all. There were shocked reactions when Theodosia revealed that Sybil was the murderer, then a general cooing and fussing over her. Angie draped a shawl around her shoulders, Drayton handed her a cup of tea, and Haley just looked stunned.
Teddy Vickers interrupted their little confab when he crashed into the lobby and said, “I could use some help outside if you don’t mind. We’ve got a party going on!”
“The guests!” Angie cried as she flew out the door. Before it closed, Theodosia could hear raucous voices and loud music.
“You two should stay,” Drayton urged. “There’s a wonderful jazz trio out on the patio. They’re even playing some Miles Davis and John Coltrane.”
“Wait a minute, you know jazz?” Haley asked Drayton. He’d grown suddenly cool in her estimation.
But Theodosia’s eyes were beginning to droop, and she looked a little woozy. So it was Riley who stepped in and put his foot down.
“I think it’s time to go,” he said.
“But it’s Halloween,” Haley argued. “Not even nine o’clock yet. You’re going to miss the dancing. And the drinks!”
“It does sound like fun,” Theodosia said. Then she yawned. “But I am awfully beat.”
“I think we both need to hit the pause button,” Riley said. He guided Theodosia to the front door where they waved a tired goodbye, then strolled slowly down the street, dappled in streams of moonlight, holding hands.
Riley smiled at Theodosia and said, “Your hair.”
