The wind whistled around the SUV and they could see only about twenty feet ahead through the driven snow. As Bobby drove slowly, looking for the gate, a picture came into his mind. He was sitting in the cab of an old tractor. His friend, Reuben Springer, was sitting next to him. They were slowly plowing through enormous drifts of snow toward an old, deserted cabin in the woods. The wind was howling and the snow was blowing sideways through the dark and twisted trees...
“Bobby, you okay?”
Bobby turned. The Amish man sitting next to him was Jonathan, not Reuben. Bobby pushed his hat back on his forehead. “Yeah, Jonathan, I’m good. Just thinking about another time I was on a rescue mission in a blizzard.”
“When you and Reuben saved Jerusha?”
“Yep. That was a long time ago.”
Jonathan pointed ahead. They were coming to the gate and there was a police car with flashing lights on top, blocking the way. They rolled to a stop. A short, stout man in a police uniform climbed out of the car. He waved at someone out of sight out on the road, and in a few seconds, another police car pulled up. The policeman started toward the SUV.
*****
Sergeant Oliver Cromwell Franklin had been out in the storm for three hours and for the last two he had been parked in front of Augusta St. Clair’s house trying to keep a kidnapper from getting back on the grounds and keep from freezing at the same time. He was very cold and very cross. As he watched the service road, he saw an SUV coming toward the front gate. He looked closer. There were several men in the car. The SUV pulled up to the gate and stopped by the cruiser. Franklin pulled his coat collar up around his pudgy neck and climbed out of the car. He waved at Gary Parkins who was parked down the road and motioned him to come closer. He waited until Parkins arrived and they started toward the SUV.
Franklin crunched through the snow to the driver’s side of the SUV and waited while the man behind the wheel rolled the window down. There were two men in the front, two in the middle and a man in the back next to someone rolled up in blankets. As Franklin scrutinized the passengers he realized the man in the back matched the description of Daniel King. His hand went to his pistol.
“Say, what’s going on here?”
The man behind the wheel looked up at him. He was an older, sandy-haired man wearing a Stetson hat. Franklin suddenly realized that the driver looked like someone he did not want to mess with. The man seated next to him was Amish, but the look in his eye was not a peaceful one. The sandy-haired man opened his jacket. Pinned to his vest was a silver sheriff’s badge. Next to it was a combat medal. Franklin looked closer. It was the Silver Star. Then he noticed that there was also a police-issue revolver strapped to his waist. The sandy-haired man smiled.
“I brought these because I thought I might have to do a little convincing. My name is Bobby Halverson. Sheriff Bobby Halverson. The reason you can still call me Sheriff is because the citizens of Wayne County, Ohio saw fit to bestow the title on me permanently in light of my long service to them. We have a very sick girl in the back. Her husband and his grandmother have poisoned her. Daniel King tried to rescue Rachel but was prevented. He escaped from the house and then called me for help, knowing that he could not trust you or the local police. When we arrived at the estate, we had to sneak in by way of Long Island Sound. These men are Augusta St. Clair’s security chief and his assistant. By the time we arrived, they had discovered the plot to kill Rachel and offered to help us rescue her. You should know that the three private security men who are helping you guard the house are also in on the plot and should be arrested immediately. Now, if you will kindly move your car, we need to get this girl to the hospital fast!”
Franklin looked in the window again. He pointed to Daniel and fumbled at the snap on his holster. “You fellas don’t seem to realize the bind I’m in here. One of our most prominent citizens has filed a very serious complaint against that man back there, the one you say is Daniel King. She—”
Before he could continue, the sandy-haired man interrupted.
“She has instructed you to arrest Daniel King and keep him under wraps, and you’re buying into it because she owns you.”
Franklin felt heat infuse his face. “Say, you can’t talk to me like that! I’m the police around here.”
Sheriff Bobby Halverson opened the door of the car and got out. He moved in front of Franklin and put his finger in Franklin’s face. “Let me explain something to you, officer. The grandfather of the girl in the back of the car was a Congressional Medal of Honor winner who single-handedly turned the tide of the battle for Henderson Field on Guadalcanal. This man next me is Rachel St. Clair’s father. I have many friends in the National Sheriff’s Organization. The current police commissioner of New York City and I served as officers together on the board of the Fraternal Order of Police. Colonel Jerry Cowell of the Connecticut State Police is on his way here from Middleton with twenty of his troopers to take over this investigation. And we have a sick girl who will die if you don’t get your fat behind out of the way. You would be better off going up to the house and arresting Augusta for the murder of her grandson, Gerald, and the attempted murder of Rachel St. Clair. You had also better round up the three men who are on the estate as guards.”
Franklin felt his secure little world start to crack around the edges. Sheriff Halverson continued. “If you want to buck me on this, I will make some phone calls and the law enforcement bigwigs who show up here will make Augusta St. Clair look like a pussycat. If Rachel dies while I’m doing that, I will personally beat you to a pulp. When you recover, you will find that your next position will be as a weather balloon operator in Goose Bay, Labrador, if you’re not in jail with Augusta. Am I clear?”
Oliver Cromwell Franklin looked at Sheriff Bobby Halverson. There was a fire in Halverson’s eyes that guaranteed the truth of what he was saying. The fight went out of Franklin, and his shoulders dropped. He was about to start back to his car when he heard a voice.
“Just stay where you are officer. We have some business with Colonel Randall.”
Franklin turned. Three men armed with nasty-looking automatic weapons were standing behind Parkins. The leader motioned for everyone to raise their hands. “Get out of the car, Colonel.”
Randall looked at Jamison and slowly started to open the door. Just then the blast of a bullhorn cut through the wind.
“You men there! This is Colonel Jerry Cowell of the Connecticut State Police. You are surrounded. Lay down your weapons, put your hands behind your heads, and kneel down. Now!”
Oliver Cromwell Franklin looked toward the sound of the voice. As he watched, several tough-looking State Troopers materialized out of the storm. They were armed with shotguns and rifles. They had come upon the confrontation and surrounded the group unnoticed. The three men dropped their weapons and did as Colonel Cowell told them. Then a tall man with a bullhorn walked out of the whirling snow up to Sheriff Halverson.
“Bobby, what’s going on here?”
“Jerry! It’s pretty complicated, but first of all I have a very sick girl here, who will die if I don’t get her to the hospital.” Bobby nodded at Sergeant Franklin. “The sergeant and his men have been obstructing us on the orders of Augusta St. Clair, who just shot her grandson, Gerald. She is still in the house. Gerald is dead. Those three men are in on the plot. These two men are helping us. They discovered the plot to kill Rachel, and I need to take them to the hospital with me so they can talk to the doctors. I know that’s a lot to digest and there’s a lot more, but I can sort it out with you later. Right now we have to go!”
Colonel Cowell nodded and turned to one of his men. “Take your cruiser and get these people to the hospital as quickly as you can.”
The trooper nodded and started for his car.
Colonel Cowell pointed to the three men on their knees and motioned to some of his troopers. “Take these men into custody!”
Colonel Cowell turned to Franklin. “You! Get your car out of the way but give me your
pistol first, and then I want you and your men to accompany me to the house.”
Franklin stood in bewilderment, watching his world come crashing down. Then he handed over his gun and got in the police car. When he had moved his cruiser, Colonel Cowell motioned to Bobby.
“Get the girl to the hospital and then call me when she’s in good hands. I’ll need you to debrief me on everything that’s happened here.”
Bobby shook the Colonel’s hand and then jumped in the SUV and followed the trooper down the road toward town. Oliver Cromwell Franklin shook his head and wondered how cold Goose Bay, Labrador got in the winter.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The Road Home
Bobby drove like a madman following the State Patrol cruiser’s flashing lights through the blinding snow. As he watched the car in front of him guide him to the hospital, he remembered a day over forty years earlier when he had taken another precious girl on a race for life. For the first time in a long time, Bobby prayed.
“Lord, I know I don’t know you very well, but I have the feeling you know me. I have a girl here who is very sick, just like my little Jenna so long ago. Please let this time be different. Please let Rachel live.”
Jonathan glanced over at Bobby and smiled. He said a quiet, “Amen.”
After about twenty minutes, they pulled up in front of Greenwich Hospital. The wind had died and the storm clouds were beginning to open above them. Bobby and Jonathan leaped out of the car and ran to the back. They opened the door and Daniel climbed out with Rachel in his arms. Daniel and Jonathan headed for the emergency entrance. Gordon Randall grabbed Bobby’s arm. He handed Bobby the folded piece of paper and the glassine envelope.
“And now it’s time for Jamison and me to take our leave. This note will tell the doctor exactly what Rachel is suffering from and there are some of the pills in this bag. Follow the directions and there is a good chance Rachel will live.”
Bobby grabbed Randall by the coat collar and stared at him. “I’m only letting you go because we made a deal. As for your part in this, if Rachel dies, I will spend the rest of my life hunting you down. If I were you, I would take up another line of work or retire. Because if I ever see you again, there will be real trouble.”
Randall smiled. “I think I’ll take your advice, Sheriff. Things have definitely gotten a little warm for me around here. Now you should get in there and help the girl.”
Bobby turned and ran into the hospital.
*****
Randall stood in the snow watching Bobby go. He turned to Jamison and noticed the sour look on his face.
“This operation sure blew up in our faces, Colonel. All that work and nothing to show for it.”
Randall reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Not exactly, Sergeant. Before I got the car, I broke into Augusta’s office and grabbed these off the desk. They’re the securities. They’re worth over a million dollars and Augusta signed them over. So maybe it is time for us to think of another profession, like beach bums in Costa Rica. We’ve been fighting this war too long.”
Jamison smiled. “I’m with you, Colonel Randall.”
“Is the back-up SUV still parked downtown?”
Jamison pointed down the street. “It’s in a parking garage out of the snow, about a ten minute walk from here, down that way. We have plenty of supplies and a medical kit. You can put a cast on this arm when we stop.”
Randall nodded. The two men turned and disappeared into the falling snow.
*****
Bobby ran through the door. Jonathan and Daniel were remonstrating with a nurse who was trying to explain hospital protocol. Bobby ran up to her and showed her his badge.
“Get me a doctor, quick!” he shouted at her. “This girl is dying.”
The nurse dropped her paperwork and pencil, ran into the office and got on the intercom. In a few minutes, a white-haired man with a puzzled expression on his face came down the hall.
“I’m Dr. Wilson,” he said. “What seems to be the trouble?”
Bobby handed the note and the glassine envelope to the doctor. “This girl is suffering from acute arsenic poisoning. She needs treatment immediately. The exact poison is in this envelope and instructions for treatment are in this note.”
The doctor pulled back the blanket and looked at Rachel. He opened the note. He held the pills as he scanned the instructions. Then he turned to the nurse. “Get a gurney in here, stat! Move this girl into the ER and start her on fluid and electrolyte replacement immediately. I want her stomach pumped as quickly as possible, and I want her chelated with dimercaprol.”
The nurse nodded and motioned for another nurse to help. They grabbed a gurney that was standing in the entranceway. Daniel laid Rachel down on the gurney. The doctor did a quick exam and then nodded, and the two nurses pushed the gurney through the emergency room doors into intensive care.
The doctor shook his head. “She’s in bad shape. I’ll do the best I can.”
Daniel took hold of the doctor’s arm. “There’s something else, Doctor. She’s pregnant.”
The doctor frowned. “That’s not good, not good at all. I may be able to save the girl, but the chances that the baby will live... Well, that would take a miracle.”
The doctor pointed to an area off to the left. “The waiting room is right over there. I’ll let you know their status as soon as I can.” He turned and followed the nurses through the swinging doors.
Jonathan took Bobby aside. “Bobby, what about Jenny? Augusta St. Clair said she had sent someone to hurt her.”
Bobby remembered. “Jonathan, that’s right. I’ll call the local boys in Paradise and get them out to the house to guard Jenny. In the meantime, we’ll leave Daniel here with Rachel and drive home as quickly as we can. Maybe the troopers can run interference for us. It’s going to be crazy out on the road.”
Bobby went over to the desk, showed them his badge, and asked for a phone. In a few minutes he returned. “The police in Paradise will send some men out to the house to guard Jenny. I talked to Jerry Cowell. He’s dispatching three cruisers to get us through to the Pennsylvania state line. He’s making some calls and should have some Pennsylvania boys there to take us in to Paradise. So let’s tell the officer what’s happening and get going. We’ll meet them when we pick up my truck at Willy’s place.”
Bobby shook Daniel’s hand and patted his shoulder. “Daniel, I want to thank you for watching out for Rachel. Jonathan and I have to see about Jenny. Will you stay here with Rachel and take care of her?”
Daniel nodded and looked at Jonathan. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”
Jonathan smiled. “Das ist gut, Daniel. We’ll call as soon as we know what’s happening.”
Bobby took Jonathan’s arm. “Come on, pal. We got a long drive ahead of us.”
Then he and Jonathan headed out the door.
*****
Colonel Jerry Cowell and his men entered the St. Clair estate with guns drawn. As they came in through the kitchen, they found the frightened staff huddled together. When they saw the state police, a tall, dignified man approached the Colonel.
“I’m the butler. We heard a gunshot and screaming upstairs. We don’t know what’s going on, but we want to leave.”
Colonel Cowell motioned to one of his men. “Let them get their coats and then take them out and put them in the cruisers. I want them taken into town to the police station along with Sergeant Franklin and his men and held until I get there. Are there any other buildings where people might be hiding?”
The butler pointed out the back window. “There’s a caretaker’s cottage just through those trees. The security men have been using it.”
Colonel Cowell signaled to two of his men. “Go out to the cottage and check it out. We’ll go upstairs and see what’s happening with the St. Clairs.”
He pointed to the butler. “I need you to show me where you heard the shot. Then you can go.”
The two men left by the back
door with the rest of the staff while Cowell and his men followed the butler down the hall to the stairs. The man stopped and pointed. “Go up the stairs and turn left down the hall. You’ll pass another set of stairs and then you’re in the east wing where the living quarters are. Ms. Rachel’s room is two doors down.”
The state police crept silently up the stairs following the butler’s directions. They passed the stairs and came to a room with the door partly open. From inside they heard a weird, crooning sound. Slowly, they pushed the door open. An old woman was sitting on a bed by a man who was obviously dead. She was caressing the man’s forehead and singing. “Rock-a-bye Gerald, in the tree top, down came the cradle, Gerald and all...” And then the old woman giggled.
Colonel Cowell spoke. “Mrs. St. Clair?”
The old woman turned. Her coiffed hair had fallen apart and she had a vacant stare. “Mrs. St. Clair? Oh, no, not Mrs. St. Clair. I’m Francine, Francine Bosnan. I’m not a St. Clair. They’re all dead and I’m alive. Gerald’s dead, and Rachel will soon be dead, and then Jenny and then they will all be dead. No more St. Clairs...all gone...all dead.”
Colonel Cowell moved up beside the old woman. “Mrs. Augusta St. Clair, I am arresting you for the murder of Gerald St. Clair. Please stand up and put your hands behind your back.”
*****
Out in the cottage, the two state policemen opened the door and proceeded cautiously into the room, guns drawn. The body of a man was lying by the front door. He had a throwing dagger in his throat and a surprised look on his face. One of the troopers stooped down and took a small box with a flashing light on it from the dead man’s hand. There was a button below the light.
“I wonder what this is.”
The Amish Heiress (The Paradise Chronicles Book 1) Page 29
