Dangerous

by Lee Magner

  “After all you’ve done to see that we finally get some fireworks?” Honoria exclaimed, her eyebrows arching like a hunting bird. “My dear, if I don’t take you there, I should be taken out before a firing squad and shot!”

  “That’s really not necessary,” Clare murmured dryly.

  They were sailing past the mayor’s house when Honoria slammed on the brakes.

  Clare braced herself against the dashboard. When the tires had stopped screeching, she was thrown back hard against her seat. She turned to the mayor’s wife and glared.

  “Why are we stopping?” Clare asked succinctly.

  “I forgot! Franklin asked me this morning if I could retrieve an old yearbook and bring it to him. He was talking with someone who swore they were in the same hobby club one year in elementary school and Franklin wanted to use the book to see if the man was right. He doesn’t remember him, apparently.”

  “Honoria!” Clare wailed in protest. “That was hours and hours ago! The fireworks will be starting soon!” And Clare had been counting on enjoying the show with Case, whom she assumed was standing by the gate to the fairground wondering why she hadn’t arrived at their rendezvous. “Why not let him get the book himself when he gets home?” she suggested, trying not to sound too exasperated with the Bonney family’s obsession with controlling all the little details in any situation.

  “I understand how you feel, Clare,” Honoria said carelessly. “But Franklin may run into the person again tonight at the fireworks. And Franklin likes to have a thorough grasp of everything he does. It bothers him tremendously when people know things that he cannot or does not recall.” She smiled coolly, like a Roman matron envisioning her future little Caesar’s ascent to the emperor’s throne. “That obsession for detail makes. a great leader,” she said with complete confidence. “Loose ends trip you up in politics,” she added shrewdly. “We’ tolerate no loose ends, Clare.”

  Clare sank down in the car seat, despairing. A glance at her watch showed her how little time remained if she were to get to the fairground in time.

  Honoria, never one to hesitate or ask permission, already was walking briskly up the brick path to her front door.

  “Well, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” Clare said grimly. She hopped out of the car and hurried after the stately woman. Maybe she could help find the blasted yearbook and speed things up, she thought.

  Case stood behind the window that faced the old railroad station. Through the brownish-colored glass he could barely make out its architectural features across the street. It would be impossible to see a person if he were lurking in the darkness over there.

  Still, he kept his body behind the factory wall, and let as little as possible of his head and shoulders become exposed at the window. He didn’t want his target to see him first.

  There didn’t seem to be anyone around yet, and he went over his plans for the trap again. It was as good a way as any to keep his mind occupied while he waited.

  It had been Clare’s comment about Lexie’s trip to Dayton that had triggered his memory. With the conflicting stories that Lexie had given them about her reasons for going, it seemed reasonable to assume she’d been trying to hide something from them all. The ending of an unwanted pregnancy would fit into that part of the puzzle very nicely. It was about the time, according to the autopsy’s evaluation, that the abortion had been performed.

  The trip and the pregnancy also supplied a motive for murder. There were plenty of small scandals in the town, but few really big ones. Fifteen years ago, this would have been a major scandal.

  Some would have been more seriously damaged by such a scandal than others. Those wanting a public career generally tried to be scandal-free. Such a messy and distressing example of poor judgment was not what the public sought in its heroes or its leaders—at least, not most of the time, Case thought wryly. There were always some inexplicable exceptions, of course. The person he had in mind, however, wasn’t likely to be one of them.

  Only one of the old gang of Crawfordsville kids had gone to Dayton, as far as he knew. And certainly only one within a year of Lexie’s death.

  Case knew who it was.

  It hadn’t taken him long to realize that Clare didn’t. She still didn’t remember, for which he was grateful. He didn’t want her thoughts to show on her pretty face when she bumped into the killer. He wanted her as natural and easy to talk to as she always had been. He didn’t want the murderer’s suspicions aroused. So he’d kept his thoughts on the murderer’s identity to himself.

  And he’d kept trying to collect information that might prove his theory. Believing the guy did it was one thing. Proving it was a hell of a challenge; especially after all these years.

  His lawyers had unearthed some documents that supported Case’s suspicion, but nowhere near enough to reopen the old murder case, let alone convict the man of murder. The investigators that he and Logan had assigned to collect records and personal interviews had tracked down the prosecutor and one of the policemen who’d handled the case. They’d reconstructed some of the deals that had been worked out and some of the compromises that had been made… such as suppressing the information about Lexie’s pregnancy. The medical examiner had retired and moved south of the border to enjoy his leisure. They still hadn’t been able to locate him, but were hoping he was still alive.

  Case had begun to think they would never be able to actually prove the case. Then Clare had shown him the charm bracelet and the letter from Lexie.

  That’s when he’d decided to try to trick the murderer into incriminating himself.

  So he’d photocopied Lexie’s old letter, and then he’d cut and pasted letters together, tediously forming a “new” letter from Lexie to the murderer, dropping it in with the personal mail at the man’s newly erected place of business when no one was around.

  And now he waited to see if the murderer had swallowed the bait.

  Across the street, the lamplight at the corner illuminated the front of the old platform and tracks. The railroad station’s dark red bricks added to the gloom near its walls. Its overhanging roof served as a shield against the light.

  Then he saw something move.

  A man.

  He was walking along the wall of the railroad building, in the shadows as much as possible. Case guessed he’d just come up the steps along the end of the old railroad, coming from behind it across the rusting, grass-overgrown tracks. The man hesitated near the boarded-up doors of the old brick edifice. Like an animal sniffing at the wind to detect anyone in the vicinity, Case thought coldly.

  Case’s eyes narrowed and his lips thinned in animosity.

  ‘I thought that little loose end would be more than you could resist,” Case said with deadly softness. “You swallowed the bait. The whole tasty, poisonous little treat, you murdering son of a bitch.”

  Clare swept her hand over the damp hair falling in front of her eyes. She was on her hands and knees in the Bonneys’ family room, digging into the second layer of books, the ones hidden behind the front row, down on the bottom shelf behind the game tables. It was dusty, and Clare was feeling grimier by the minute.

  “Sorry,” Honoria had said as she turned to the books on another shelf. “I’m not much of a housekeeper, I’m afraid. And none of the girls around here seem interested in doing chores to earn a little money.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Clare assured her, just seconds before sneezing. Next time I’ll bring my feather duster, she promised silently.

  Clare was about to check her watch again when she pulled back another set of books and discovered a handful of school yearbooks. Along with them were some yellowed programs from various events that Franklin had performed in while growing up. And a handful of trophies for individual and team winnings. One of the books was the elementary school book that he’d been looking for.

  Clare waved it in the air.

  “I think this is it, Honoria,” she exclaimed in happy relief.

  As H
onoria swooped down and plucked it from her hand, Clare turned back to put away the other yearbooks and paper booklets.

  It was then that she saw the words on one of the small commencement brochures. It was for youth attending a special three-week clinic in social and political sciences. The name of the city riveted her attention.

  Dayton.

  And inside was a picture of the students. Franklin was among them. The star next to his name indicated that his afternoon athletic activity during the summer camp had been riflery.

  Franklin had won the blue ribbon in marksmanship.

  The picture of him standing with the rifle aimed at a target made Clare run cold in fear.

  Franklin, she thought, stunned. It was Franklin.

  Honoria looked down at Clare and clucked in disapproval.

  “We must get going, Clare,” she said firmly. “His Honor the Mayor is expecting me to be at his side for this final event of the day. You mustn’t hold me up, dear. Now come along!”

  She swept out of the room, yearbook in hand, as Clare got to her feet.

  Normally, Clare would have been really annoyed at Honoria’s arrogant comment, especially since she had been the person to slow them down in the first place. But she was too shocked to bother worrying about Honoria’s regal arrogance.

  “I’ve got to find Case,” she whispered. She raced to the car, hair flying all about her, her pulse pounding.

  Honoria looked at her in surprise, started the car and headed across town toward the fairground.

  “No!” Clare said urgently. “Take the shortcut!”

  “What?” Honoria, who prided herself on always taking the most prominent route to any place she was going, looked at Clare in mystification.

  “By the old glassworks… you know, then you can take the road that parallels the old railroad tracks. It takes you in the east entrance to the fairground.”

  Honoria looked uncertain.

  “Please, Honoria!”

  “Well, if you insist…”

  Ten minutes later, they were passing between the boarded-up railroad building and the dilapidated glass-and-ceramics factory. They were turning down the road out of town when something caught Clare’s eyes. She turned and looked out the back window, and saw a light flickering in the glass-andceramics building. And a man, stealthily walking across the street from the old train station. A man whose build and walk reminded her of Franklin.

  “Where did you say Franklin was?” Clare asked breathlessly.

  “At the fireworks with the mayor.”

  They pulled up at an old stop sign and Clare frowned. Something was going on back there. At Case’s factory. Surely someone with a’ key had been inside flickering that light.

  It reminded her of a signal.

  She paled. A signal calling Franklin to come inside?

  Honoria had rolled on and was speeding out of town. Then, on the left, half-hidden by the trees, Clare saw Case’s car. And her heart froze. He wouldn’t leave his car here if he were down at the fairground. He must be here. Or nearby.

  “Stop!” When Honoria merely slowed and started to argue, Clare opened the door and cried, “Stop!” Honoria slammed on the brakes. Clare jumped out.

  Before she closed the door, she told Honoria urgently, “Ask the sheriff to meet me at the old glass factory as soon as possible.”

  “What?”

  “Honoria! I don’t have time to explain. I may be crazy—it may be nothing—but I think I’m going to need the police in about fifteen minutes!”

  Clare slammed the door and ran back down the road toward the factory.

  Chapter 16

  It was warm inside the old glass company. The air was still and musty. Here and there, a small rivulet of fresh air slithered through a window’s jagged lips, meandering through the rooms until it escaped between the boarded-up cracks of another on the opposite side of the building.

  Case watched Franklin cautiously step to the edge of the railroad station platform and then hesitate.

  The light from the street lamp shone down on the naked street that he would have to cross to get to the factory. Case guessed that he was trying to think of some way to cross it without being seen.

  Case smiled thinly. The factory was surrounded by broad, empty streets on four sides. It was virtually impossible to approach without being seen while someone was watching. And Case was watching. Like a hunting bird who’d sighted his meal of the day, he had no intention of taking his eyes off Franklin, not even for the few seconds it would take for him to run across the street.

  Then he heard a soft creaking on the opposite side of the building. Like a door being opened on rusty hinges.

  The hair stood up on the back of his neck. What the hell was that? He looked at Franklin, who was still over by the railroad station, pacing along the platform in the shadows, trying to get up the nerve to cross through the light.

  The faint sound of glass cracking under someone’s foot reached Case. Grimly, he turned and picked his way silently but quickly in the direction of the noise. He had no intention of being ambushed.

  It made no sense to Case that Franklin would have brought an accomplice, though. Franklin surely wouldn’t want a witness around for their little conversation. But someone was definitely here. The question was, who?

  He inched quickly around an entranceway to an adjoining hallway, and had reached the doors leading to several sections of the plant. That’s when he heard the jangling crash of metal chain links. There were heavy chains hung from the exposed steel rafters in the huge storage area to his right. It sounded as if the newcomer had bumped into them while trying to walk between them.

  Case stopped, torn between identifying the intruder and returning to make sure that Franklin hadn’t started across the street yet.

  The soft scraping sound of footsteps in the warehousing room left him with no choice. Whoever it was, he was coming in his direction. If he was Franklin’s ally, he needed to eliminate him before Franklin showed up. If he was just some stray kid exploring the old abandoned building, he needed to get him out of harm’s way. And he needed to do it in one damned big hurry. Because every second that he wasn’t watching Franklin’s movements increased the danger of this trap.

  Case had no intention of letting his own trap snap down on him.

  The quicker he tackled the person in the warehouse and knocked him out of commission, the quicker he could turn his full attention to his main concern—forcing the truth from Franklin Bonney.

  Clare was lost in the dark, dirty room. The chains had rattled her nerves. She’d dropped down onto her hands and knees, praying that she’d not made a major blunder by coming into the building.

  She’d been so sure that Case was here. Now she didn’t know what had possessed her to think so. It could be anyone. A derelict wandering through town and looking for a place to sleep or drink. A teenager angry at the world and bent on petty vandalism.

  Or maybe it had even been some sort of weird light refraction, she thought despairingly. Outside light might have glinted off the reflective surface of something inside the old factory.

  The street lamp outside the building was strong and, although the windows of the old glassworks were heavily coated with dirt, some light did penetrate. It was that puny illumination that kept the interior from being totally pitch-black.

  She could see large shadows where objects were. Except some were harder to see than others, she thought, recalling bumping into those blasted rusty chains.

  She leaned against a wall and closed her eyes. She had to go on with her original plan, she told herself firmly. She was sure that Franklin was lurking around, and knowing what she now knew about his activities in Dayton, she had no doubt that he was up to no good. If Case wasn’t in the building, he either had been or would be, because his car was secluded nearby.

  So all she had to do was keep herself safe until Honoria got the sheriff here.

  Clare fervently hoped that Honoria had by now located the she
riff and pointed him in her direction. With that bracing thought, she stood and turned toward the nearest doorway.

  But a looming shadow emerged and swallowed her with powerful arms and a brutal shove against the wall, knocking the air completely out of her. She wiggled like a sports fish trying desperately to free itself from a tight, suffocating net, thrashing her arms, kicking her legs, twisting her knees hard against the muscular body gripping her. One strong hand covered her mouth just as air began reinflating her tortured lungs.

  “Stop it!” hissed a very familiar, and extremely furious voice.

  She stopped struggling and worked her trapped arms around him, hugging him with all her strength.

  “What in the hell are you doing here?” he whispered irately.

  “Looking for you,” she whispered against his ear. She kissed it, ecstatic that she’d found him. She’d been right, after all, she thought in delight. “I saw your car, and Franklin is lurking around across the street…”

  He pressed her body flat against the wall, covering her with his own, both in anger and in protection. He lifted his head and put his hand across her mouth to silence her.

  He heard it again. The soft sound of footsteps grinding against small shards of glass. This time, the sound was coming from the front of the building, the area that faced the railroad station.

  He swore silently and whispered against her ear.

  “You’ve got to get the hell out of here.”

  “But I came to warn you,” she managed to say, escaping his hand and whispering in his ear. “Franklin’s the murderer!”

  “Damn it, I figured that out!” he whispered furiously.

  She glared at him. “You could have told me!”

  “I was trying to keep you away from here’so you wouldn’t get hurt!”

  She hugged him and felt the strength of his love as he held her in a crushing embrace for one, brief second. Then he pulled her behind him, heading toward the door she’d come in through.

  Outside, the clouds began to darken the sky, and a soft breeze began to rustle the trash someone had left in a nearby alley.