“None,” she admitted, softly weeping. “This place is so big, full of all kinds of nooks and crannies, and it seems to go on forever. They could be anywhere.”
“She would try to get to the road,” Pug said. “And you can be sure the old man’s watching that.”
“He can’t be everywhere. You said yourself there had to be more than one entrance,” I reminded him.
“There is,” Ola said, “but the gates are rusted shut. She’d have to climb over that high wall.”
Knowing my mother, I thought she might chance it if she thought she’d succeed, but if I were in her place, I’d wait until it wasn’t so light. I looked at my watch. It was just before six and would soon start turning darker. Unless this crazy man had already caught up with them, Mom had been out there in that jungle of undergrowth with Joey for over an hour. Soon the baby would become hungry again. We had to find them fast.
Pug held out his hand for my car keys. “I’m going to drive back and check the main entrance. Be sure and lock the doors behind me and don’t do anything until I get back.”
Don’t do anything? My mother and baby nephew were fleeing from a madman and he tells me not to do anything! I went to the kitchen to make tea for Ola. Augusta Goodnight, I thought, you are one sorry guardian angel! We could surely use a little heavenly help about now.
I noticed the playing cards as I looked in the cabinet for mugs. They were on the kitchen counter next to Joey’s formula and I didn’t remember seeing them there before. Next to them was a narrow thin score pad for recording bridge scores. It said so on the front.
“Have you and Mom been playing cards?” I asked Ola, showing her what I’d found.
“Why no. I’ve never been any good at that, and with Joey we didn’t have much extra time.” She looked a little closer. “I think I’ve seen them around in a drawer somewhere though. Pretty, aren’t they, with those strawberries on the front.”
Strawberries. Of course. Now I detected a slight whiff of strawberry scent in the air. Why would Augusta set out a deck of bridge cards?
“Is there a bridge here on the estate?” I asked.
“Why yes, two or three I think.”
“Can you tell me where to find them?”
Ola swung her feet to the floor. “I can show you if you’ll let me go with you, but why?”
“Call it a hunch. I’ll try to explain later, and I’d rather you wait here for Pug.”
She took my hand in cool, dry fingers. “Please be careful, won’t you? And bring my baby back to me. I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to Joey!”
“I’ll do my best,” I promised. “Now, be sure to lock the door behind me and tell Pug where I’ve gone.”
“Can we really trust him, Prentice?” Ola said, frowning. “After all, he is a Gaines.”
“And so is Joey,” I reminded her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Ihurried across the gravel drive, daring it to make any noise, and circled the sunken garden where the fountain splashed. Other than the trickle of water and an occasional birdsong, the grounds at Ellynwood were oppressively silent.
“Take a flashlight,” Ola had directed. “There’s one in that kitchen drawer by the door. It gets dark early with all these trees. And watch out for snakes. I always carry a stick.”
Snakes! Oh, great! I clenched a long forked stick in one hand, the flashlight in the other. I’d almost rather meet up with Pershing Gaines and an arsenal of weapons. On the other side of the rose garden a narrow trail twisted off to the right, the pathway already deep in shadow. If I followed it for about a quarter of a mile, then took the left branch, it would bring me to a stone bridge, Ola said.
Each footstep seemed amplified. Why did the place have to be so blasted quiet? If Joey were to cry, or to make any of his cute baby sounds, Pershing Gaines would hear. He might be watching me now, lurking behind that huge pine tree, crouched beneath a spreading magnolia. Oh, how I would welcome noise! A rushing river, the drone of an airplane, a radio playing—anything but this tattletale silence.
The bridge, when I came to it, spanned a narrow stream, then the pathway divided again beyond it. I paused on the bridge just long enough to look down into the water on either side. Was I supposed to find some clue here? It couldn’t be anything obvious that Pershing Gaines might follow.
“Okay, Augusta,” I whispered, sighing, “what do I do now?” But Augusta didn’t answer. I hoped it was because she was busy elsewhere.
Ola had said she thought my mother had mentioned another bridge farther on, but she herself had never gone that far. How was I supposed to know which way to go?
The scent of fresh pine greeted me on the other side of the bridge, and I saw that a small sapling had fallen over the trail to the left. Was this Augusta’s way of telling me to take the right fork? I stooped to see what might have caused the tree to fall, but it appeared to be a clean break for no apparent reason, and it looked as if it had happened recently. The smell of resin was strong in the air. “Okay, Augusta,” I said softly. “Right it is.”
Spiderwebs brushed my face as I walked beneath the canopy of low hanging trees and I shuddered and tried not to think of whatever else might be in my path. What would I do if I were in my mother’s place? If I had to snatch up the baby and run, where would I go to get away from this frightening man who seemed to have lost all reason?
If she went back along the road to the main gate, he would be sure to catch up with her. Would she try to find another way out, or wait and take a chance on evading him after dusk? Ola had thought perhaps Mom was carrying Joey in a slinglike snuggle against her chest, as she sometimes used one on short walks to lull him to sleep, and the baby’s papooselike carrier wasn’t hanging in its usual place. But Joey weighed at least eighteen pounds, and my mother wasn’t used to carrying him long distances. Pershing Gaines wouldn’t be hampered by the extra weight.
But Mom had at least two advantages. She knew the area better than he did, and she had Augusta on her side. I knew the angel was doing her best to lead me without giving away their hiding place to the man who pursued them. If I were trying to avoid him, I thought, I’d keep off the main paths and find someplace to stay out of sight for a while. But where?
The second bridge took me by surprise when I came upon the rustic structure around a bend in the path. Wisteria twined around the log hand railings and the wooden floor didn’t look too stable. I took one cautious step, and then another. The boards creaked but didn’t give way. Behind me I heard the rustle of leaves and turned, expecting to see the bearded avenger standing there, and just about fainted with relief when a wren flew past me with a strand of Spanish moss for her nest.
As far as I knew I had used up my allotment of bridges, but I didn’t know where else to go but forward. I had advanced only a few feet when I smelled the strawberries. Even in Savannah strawberries wouldn’t be ripe in early March, and besides, there were no fields nearby. Yet there was no mistaking the sweet aroma. I must be getting close!
I walked faster—past a large clump of ferns, the dark skeleton of a long-dead tree draped with Spanish moss, and sniffed again. The scent grew fainter. Making an about-face I went back to the tree and stooped to look underneath. A grassy area bordered the creek bank, and beyond that in a tangle of underbrush and vines I could make out what looked like a stone wall. At one time very long ago, I thought, this was probably a working grist mill. And here the delightful smell of strawberries was almost overpowering. Surely my mom and Joey were close by.
“Thank heavens!” I said.
“You can say that again,” Augusta whispered. “What took you so long?” She stepped aside and lifted curling tendrils of jasmine to expose a half-open door, and behind it sat my mother with a sleeping baby in her arms.
She smiled when she saw me and held a finger to her lips, and it was all I could do to keep from throwing my arms around the both of them and sobbing in relief.
The room was small and musty with a dirty
stone floor, but I noticed glass in the two narrow windows, and there were a few pieces of furniture scattered about as if someone had lived here. I couldn’t imagine who or why.
It was cold in the little room and I saw that my mother had wrapped Joey in her sweater. Over her silent protests, I draped my jacket around her shoulders. Help is coming, I mouthed, and she nodded, glancing anxiously behind me at the door. I just hoped it would come soon and that he would know where to find us.
Some of the furniture, I noticed, was child-size: a small wooden table with two rickety chairs, a cane-bottomed rocker with a hole in the seat. The building may have started out as a grist mill, but at some time during the last few years it had become a playhouse, and several colorful plastic milk crates had been stacked as shelves. I borrowed one to sit on and crouched down to wait.
Shadows crisscrossed the gray stone floor and it grew darker outside. My foot was asleep, I had a crick in my neck, and I heard the distinct rustle of what sounded like a convention of mice somewhere in the walls. Still Joey slept, and his uncle Pug hadn’t shown up. What on earth was keeping him?
When a figure finally appeared in the doorway I had to turn on the flashlight to see who it was.
“Thank God it’s you!” I said as Pug stepped inside, stooping to keep from bumping his head on the low door frame. Ola, pale and shaky, tottered after him.
“Had to convince your friend here I wasn’t going to pull a Benedict Arnold,” Pug said with a grimace. “Can’t say that I blame her, but we are running kinda short on time. And daylight. Maybe you’ve noticed.”
I had. “Did you see him?” I asked, speaking, of course, of his father.
“Yes, but I don’t think he saw me. At least I hope he didn’t. And we found a back road that leads to this place. Grown up a little now, but I bulldozed a few saplings to get here and left the car as close as I could.”
Joey had begun to stir and Pug went over and stooped beside him. “Oh, wow!” he said, beaming. “I hate to brag, but I think he looks like me.”
“Joey’s uncle Pug,” I explained to my mother. “Sonny’s big brother. Don’t worry, he’s here to help.”
“All I want is to get you safely out of here,” Pug said, noticing my mother’s panicked intake of breath. “Dad’s parked near the main entrance. Fortunately I saw his car before I drove all the way to the gate, so I parked off the road a little way and investigated on foot. He’s not in his car, which means he’s on the prowl, and God only knows where he is right now.”
“God has nothing to do with it,” spoke a thundering voice behind him. “And I believe I’ll take my grandson now.”
“Dad, don’t!” Pug took a step toward him. “Stop this right now before it goes any further. You don’t realize what you’re doing.”
“I realize my son is dead, and it’s all because of that woman he married. She’s the one who got him back on those drugs!” The man’s dark eyes had lightning in them; grief, touched by madness, etched his long face. “That’s Sonny’s baby there. She took away my son, and now I’m taking hers.”
I saw my mother’s arms tighten around her grandson, saw the flare of anger in her eyes. Pershing Gaines would have to face her ire to get to Joey. The baby whimpered, probably sensing the conflict going on about him, and Mom kissed the top of his head and whispered softly to him.
I whirled toward the threatening man who was blocking the doorway, mentally unsheathing my claws. If he took one step toward my mother and Joey I’d tie that beard in a knot! “And just what makes you think my sister had anything to do with Sonny taking drugs? Maggie had no drugs in her system. She wasn’t the one who drove in front of a train. Your precious Sonny did that; if it weren’t for him, my sister would still be alive!”
The man would’ve lunged at me, I think, if Pug hadn’t stepped between us. Taking my arm, he put me firmly behind him. “Prentice is right, Dad. It’s time you faced the truth. The person to blame for Sonny’s death is Sonny himself.”
His father raised his arm as if he might strike Pug, then slowly let it drop. “What kind of son are you to take sides against your own kin? You know Sonny’d gotten off that stuff he was taking! If she didn’t give it to him, who did? Why, he came by the house the night before he died, said he’d been drug free for several months and was going to try to get that wife of his to come back to him. Hell, he didn’t even know he had a son—and neither did we until after the accident. Reckon she never meant to tell him. What kind of woman is that?”
“A cautious one,” I said evenly. “One who was sick and tired of his drinking and abuse.”
“We didn’t know about Joey either,” my mother said, obviously trying to calm him. “None of us did. We only found out by chance.” I noticed that she avoided directing attention to Ola Cress who stood like a pale apparition in the background.
“If Jack Trimble’s daughter back in Ruby hadn’t learned who that baby’s father was, I reckon I never would’ve known!” Pershing Gaines brought himself up straight and tall and his awful voice growled like a yard dog. “By the time I found out, that woman—that Cress woman—she’d taken that baby and gone off somewhere.” Now he pointed a trembling finger at Ola Cress. “It’s not right to take away a man’s kin. That baby’s a Gaines and we’re taking him back. Now.”
“No, Dad, we’re not.” Pug stepped behind my mother and Joey, put his hands on her shoulders. “This is not the way to handle things . . .”
“Get out of my way!” his father commanded. “Can’t you see these people are lying? And now you’re lying for them.” And Pershing Gaines drew a revolver from inside his jacket. “I didn’t want to use this, but you’re leaving me no other choice. That woman—that Maggie’s as guilty as sin. She gave that stuff to Sonny, I know she did. She wanted him dead!” At the same time, Joey, frightened and hungry, began to cry.
“How dare you say a thing like that!” Ola stepped boldly out of the shadows to stand in front of my mother and Joey. “Maggie was breast-feeding. She would never have taken anything that might hurt her baby. She loved that child too much to go back to a man who might abuse them.” Tears ran down her face and she looked as if a roar from this man would send her into a faint, but Ola’s voice didn’t waver. “Maggie Dobson didn’t give Sonny those drugs. I did.”
He looked as if he didn’t believe her, and for a minute I didn’t think he had heard her. I wasn’t sure I had. Surely she was making this up.
“He came by my place looking for her, but Maggie was at work at The Toy Box and the baby was with her. We had all lived in fear of this day—that he’d find them, try to force them to go back.” Ola looked at Mom and then at me. “She did love you, you know—wanted to come home, but she was ashamed. Ashamed of the choices she’d made. Maggie wanted to be free of her past mistakes before she came back into your lives.” Now Ola faced the fierce bearded man before her. “I know all about your Sonny, Pershing Gaines. Maggie told me. Your son created a living hell for that girl, and I wasn’t going to let it happen to her sweet baby.”
I thought of making a grab for the gun, but there were too many people close by. Now he waved it in front of him. “What are you saying?” he said.
“I’m saying I offered your son some refreshments—eggnog left over from the holidays. I told him Maggie was staying with me—he could see that anyway, no use trying to lie—but would be out of town for a couple of days and he’d have to come back later. He didn’t mention Joey, I don’t think he knew the child existed.” Ola glanced at Pug, at me. “And I didn’t mean for him to find out.”
“Ola, what did you do?” I was surprised I had enough breath to speak.
“Fixed him a plate of fruitcake and a mug of that eggnog—added a good splash of brandy, and while he was in the bathroom I put in some of my medicine as well. Four or five of my heart pills . . . dissolved them real good.”
“But that would be lethal, wouldn’t it?” Pug’s face was as gray as gloom.
Ola Cress didn’t answer.
>
“By God, I’ll kill you,” Pershing Gaines said, and yet he didn’t move, just stood there looking like somebody had yanked out his bones.
Now Ola turned to my mother and covered her face with her hands. “Virginia, Prentice, I’m so sorry. I never thought Sonny would find out where Maggie worked. Somebody must’ve told him . . . or he saw her car parked in front of the child care center. I just wanted him to go away . . .”
“You wanted him to die.” Sonny’s father shook his head. The hand with the revolver trembled.
“But not Maggie! Oh, God, if I could take her place I would. Forgive me . . . oh, please forgive me!”
Pershing Gaines’s hand moved so fast I didn’t have time to think, only to scream as the shot cracked loud as cannon fire in that small room, and Ola Cress gave a sharp cry, doubled over, and swayed to the floor.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Oh, my God, he’s killed her!” Pug started toward the woman who lay curled at my mother’s feet.
“Stop! Don’t move!” His father fired again, and this time I saw the snake, a huge cottonmouth moccasin, coiled inches from where Mom sat holding Joey. The reptile flipped, writhed once, and was still.
Pershing Gaines turned without a word and walked out the door, and Mom clutched Joey, screaming now, and followed. Maybe Ola had only fainted. My knees trembled so I felt I might do the same as I knelt beside her and felt her pulse. It seemed much too fast, and her face looked blue in the shadows. “I think it’s her heart,” I said to Pug who stood beside me as if he hadn’t yet decided where to go. Frantically I looked for signs of bleeding and found none. Both bullets, I assumed, had been meant for the snake.
“You’ve got to help me,” I said. “We have to get her to the house. She needs a doctor.”
I could understand why he might be reluctant to help someone who had poisoned his brother, but he nodded, scooped Ola in his arms, and carried her into the fading daylight. Pershing Gaines had disappeared, but Mom and I followed with Joey to where Pug had parked my car in a clearing not far away.
An Angel to Die For Page 21
