"You're right,” Harriet said. “It doesn't smell like the school. Maybe this building has been closed up for a long time or something."
She knew as she said it the air smelled too fresh for it to be true, but she didn't want to admit that to Lauren.
The second flight of stairs took them into a narrow, unlit room. Dark stone countertops with pale wood cabinets over them lined the walls. Rows of various styles of wine glasses were lined up on one counter. A flat wooden box with individually wrapped tea bags sat on the opposite side.
"This looks like a butler's pantry,” Harriet said. She smelled the faint scent of lemon oil wood cleaner mingled with lavender. This was clearly a place where someone lived, or which was at least cleaned on a regular basis.
She tiptoed to the door and found herself looking into a kitchen. Dim light spread out from the hood over the stove.
There was no evidence of life, so she helped Lauren over to a Formica-topped table in the middle of the room and pulled out a chair.
"I'm getting us some water before we go any farther,” she said in a slightly louder whisper. She located two glasses and filled them from the tap. “Here.” She pushed one into Lauren's shaking hand. “Don't drink it too fast."
"I'll just wait here,” Lauren said when she'd finished, and laid her head down on the table.
"Come on—whoever brought us here could come back at any moment.” She took the empty glass from Lauren's hand and pulled her to her feet. Lauren swayed and tried to slump back down to the chair.
"Okay, you can rest for a minute while I call Aiden.” Harriet dug in her jeans pocket and pulled out her cell phone. She flipped it open and walked around the kitchen watching the small screen for signs of reception. By the stove, one bar popped to life. She punched Aiden's number in. The call rang but went directly to his voice mail.
"Aiden,” she said. “Lauren and I were tied up in a house, but we got loose and are about to go outside, I don't know where we are yet, but—"
The signal went dead.
"Do you see a phone anywhere?” she asked Lauren, but Lauren's eyes were closed so clearly she wasn't seeing anything.
Harriet stepped carefully to a door that looked as if it might lead out of the room. She pushed it open a crack and could see a heavy wood mission-style dining room table surrounded by chairs. Beyond was a living space. Weak light from an outside light illuminated the far room. Night had fallen while they'd been in the attic.
She stepped through the door and quickly scanned the dining and living rooms for a phone. If there was one, it wasn't obvious.
"Come on,” she ordered Lauren when she returned. “Naptime's over."
"Huh?"
Harriet put her forearms under Lauren's armpits and hauled her upright. “I know your head hurts, but we have to get out of here."
Lauren tried to shake her off but didn't have the strength to mount much opposition.
"We're going through the dining room and the living room and then outside.” She looked at Lauren's pale, tear-streaked face. “Are you ready?"
"Of course I'm not ready,” Lauren mumbled but she shuffled forward.
It seemed like an eternity until they reached the door. Lauren had to rest every few steps while Harriet looked behind and ahead of them, listening carefully for any sign they had been discovered.
"When we get outside, we're going to move immediately to the nearest cover. We're not going to stop."
"Whatever you say, Rambo."
Lauren agreeing without a fight worried Harriet more than the bump on her friend's head. She looked at Lauren's face. Her eyes had a dull look she hadn't noticed before. She was no doctor, but anyone could see Lauren was not doing well. She needed medical attention, and she needed it now.
"Let's go."
A narrow porch ran the width of the house. Harriet half-carried Lauren outside and eased the door shut behind them. She took a deep breath and could smell the salty tang of sea air. They definitely weren't on school grounds.
She couldn't think about that right now. She had to focus on Lauren. The four porch steps were a challenge, but Lauren staggered down them and kept moving until they had crossed a small, neat yard and forced their way into a laurel hedge. Lauren collapsed to the ground.
"You can leave me here while you go for help,” she moaned.
"Sorry, we don't know whose house this is, but whoever lives here was, at the very least, willing to let us be tied up in their attic. And more than likely, it belongs to the person who put us there. So, get up, we have to keep moving."
If looks could kill, Harriet would have been a goner, but Lauren pulled herself upright again.
The laurel hedge ran along a gravel driveway and soon gave way to dark forest. Lauren was stumbling badly on the rough forest floor. She wasn't going to make it if they stayed in the woods. Harriet didn't like the idea of walking out in the open, but there was no choice. She pulled Lauren onto the driveway and started again.
They had gone no more than a hundred yards when Harriet heard the unmistakable sound of tires on gravel. Someone was coming. She helped Lauren back off the road and propped her against a tree. As the car came into sight, Harriet recognized the boxy shape of a Ford Explorer. And it was black.
She stepped into the road and waved her arms. The car lights blinded her.
"Help!” she cried. “Can you help me?"
The car stopped, and a small form got out.
"Harriet? Is that you?"
"Oh, Patience, thank heaven, it's you. Someone tied me up in an attic, and Lauren was up there, too, and she's badly injured."
"How dreadful,” Patience said. “We've all been looking for you. Here, get in the car.” She pulled the door to the back seat open.
"Wait, I've got to get Lauren."
"She's with you?"
"Yes, she's behind that tree.” She pointed. “And she's not in very good shape. Whoever kidnapped her hit her on the head, and it looks pretty bad."
"You get in the car, and I'll go fetch her."
Harriet climbed into the warm car and slumped against the seat. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Aiden again. This time, he picked up on the first ring.
"Thank heaven, you're there,” Harriet said. “Lauren and I were trapped in an attic, but it's okay now, Patience just found us. Hang on.” At that moment, Patience opened the car door opposite Harriet and pushed Lauren in. Harriet put the phone down and helped get her onto the seat. She reached across Lauren, stretched the seatbelt into position and clicked the buckle. Then she belted herself.
"I think we should take Lauren directly to the hospital,” she said.
"The house here is much closer. We can take her inside and then call nine-one-one.” Patience got into the car and guided it back to the house.
"No, Patience, it's not safe. This is the house where we were being held hostage."
"Someone must have broken in, then,” Patience said. “No one lives in this house, and we're miles from anywhere. This is the closest place to call an ambulance from."
It didn't seem like the best plan to Harriet, but Patience knew Angel Harbor better than she did. Lauren definitely needed to get to the hospital as quickly as possible. All the moving around was taking its toll.
Patience held her on one side and Harriet the other as they wrestled her back up the porch steps and into the house. She flopped down onto the sofa when they let go of her.
"Who's house is this?” Harriet asked. She picked Lauren's feet up off the floor and lifted them onto the sofa. She took a throw pillow from the chair opposite the sofa and gently slid it under Lauren's head.
"It used to be my parents',” Patience replied. “I told Tom I would look for you and Lauren in the woods around here since I had to drive over here to water the house plants anyway.” She walked back toward the entrance and opened an interior door set into the wall. A coat closet, Harriet presumed. “My mother died right after Christmas, you see. I've been getting the house ready to sell."
"Where's the phone?” Harriet asked. “We need to call for the ambulance."
"I had it disconnected after the funeral,” Patience said in a conversational tone. “Mother had a lot of hospital bills, so there wasn't any money left for extras.” She turned around. “And it won't be necessary, anyway,” she said.
It took a moment for Harriet to register the shotgun.
"You?” Harriet asked. “You were the one who tied us up in the attic?"
Patience made a slight bow.
"Why?"
"Because you couldn't keep your nose out of other people's business."
"Did you seriously think you could kidnap Lauren and hold her hostage, and that no one would come looking for her?"
"And that one...” Patience waved the barrels of her gun toward Lauren and went on speaking as if Harriet hadn't said anything. “She couldn't keep her mouth shut. She was constantly blabbing about her amazing design and how someone had copied it. Hah! If she only knew. I only got half as much for her design as I did for Jan Hayes's tone-on-tone kaleidoscope."
"Why did you need to take anyone's design? You're an accomplished artist. Couldn't you just sell your own work?"
"Couldn't you just sell your own work,” she repeated in a nasal sing-song voice. “Do you really think I'm so stupid I didn't think of that? No one wants my traditional calico pieced quilts. They want modern art quilts. But more important, to continue to teach you have to have fresh work."
"But surely that doesn't apply to you. You're a partner in the business. Aren't you?"
"I am. Or I would be if your friend here hadn't stolen Selestina's new will."
"My God.” Harriet sank down onto the sofa beside Lauren as the enormity of what Patience was saying sank in. “You killed Selestina? She was your friend."
"Exactly—she was my friend. And as her friend, I've spared her the indignity she would have most certainly suffered."
"So, she did have dementia,” Harriet said with satisfaction.
"Yes, she did. My old friend was gone. Oh, she could still fool the students, but my old friend was gone."
"If you were so close, why hadn't she made you a partner before this?"
"She was my friend, but to her I was always an employee. One she shared her hopes and dreams with, one she shared a good bottle of wine with over an expensive dinner—Dutch treat, of course; but at the end of the day, I was an employee."
"If she rewrote her will making you a partner, why did you need to kill her? Tom was going to make a foster care home in the meadow."
"Don't be so dense, Harriet,” Lauren mumbled from the sofa without opening her eyes. “Selestina wasn't ever going to make Patience a partner. Les overheard them talking. Patience tried to talk her into it, but Selestina wasn't the kind of person who would acknowledge the work of others. She may have had dementia, but it hadn't made her any nicer. She laughed at Patience."
"That's not true!” Patience cried.
"If there was a new will, it was forged. Or maybe she tricked Selestina into signing it. But Les says the old bat would have never shared the school with anyone."
"Why didn't you just go somewhere else?” Harriet asked. She slowly eased a second pillow from the chair and held it as if she were going to use it to adjust Lauren's position.
"Are you really that naive?” Patience snapped. “No one wants my work. The schools don't want quilting teachers; they want art teachers who quilt. Besides, I spent the best years of my life building up this school. You met Selestina. Do you think people would have kept coming back if I hadn't been smoothing ruffled feathers and quietly giving students discount coupons if they'd come back again.
"And she was no businesswoman. I redid the catalog every year after she'd okayed it for print. All those years, and once she thought it had gone to print, she never even checked it again."
She was consumed by her righteous anger. Harriet kept her eyes on her but inched slowly to the end of the couch. She just needed Patience to talk for another minute and she'd be clear of the coffee table.
"She was nothing without me,” Patience continued, pacing in a small rectangle along the corridor between the dining room and the front door. The shotgun was held loosely in her arms. “It was me who recruited the top teachers, me who called quilt guilds across the country."
It was now or never. When Patience once again turned toward the dining room, Harriet threw the pillow toward the table. As she'd hoped, Patience raised the gun and shot at it. As she did, Harriet dove forward, rolling into her shins. The gun went flying, and Patience hit the floor hard on her back.
Harriet planted a knee in her chest and pressed down, making sure she couldn't catch the breath that had been knocked out of her.
"Here,” Lauren said, startling her. She held a thin cord in her hand. Harriet took it and tied Patience's hands behind her.
Lauren sank to the floor. Harriet wouldn't have believed she could have gotten off the couch. She had not only done so but had pulled the lace from her tennis shoe.
"You'll not get away with this,” Patience growled. “It will be my word against yours. I'll tell them you came in here and attacked me when I accused you of copying my work."
Harriet looked around the room. Heavy velvet drapes from an earlier era were held back from the front window by a decorative gold tieback cord. She left Patience for a moment and retrieved a cord, letting the drape fall over the window. When she had secured the woman hand and foot, she patted her down, retrieving the car keys.
"Where are you going?” Lauren cried when she saw Harriet move toward the front door.
Harriet paused.
"I was calling Aiden when Patience put you in the car. I put my phone down to help and never picked it up again. Hopefully, it's still there."
She quickly found her phone and returned to the house. She called Aiden but was immediately transferred to his voicemail, which probably meant he had no reception. She tried the Tree House number but got no answer there, either.
"You'll never get away with this,” Patience said.
"Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you.” Harriet laughed. She dialed nine-one-one. She asked the operator to please notify Detective Ruiz and send an ambulance for Lauren.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Thirty
Mavis and the rest of the Loose Threads were gathered in the great room of the Tree House when Officer Weber drove Harriet back to the school. He insisted on walking her to the door over her objections, but in reality, she leaned on him more than a little as they walked the path from the parking lot to the porch.
Detective Ruiz had asked her to be available for questioning then after taking a good look at her said, he could come by the Tree House after he was done processing Patience.
"Oh, honey,” Mavis said, “come in and tell us what happened."
"Dios mio,” Connie said. “Sit down.” She motioned to Sarah to move over and make a place for Harriet on the sofa. “Go get a wet wash cloth,” she ordered.
Sarah rolled her eyes and sighed but didn't get up. Carla jumped up from her perch on the stone hearth.
"I'll get it."
Connie glared at Sarah and went back to adjusting the pillows behind Harriet and putting her feet up on the coffee table.
"Oh, your poor ankles,” she said as Harriet's pant leg rode up and everyone could see the angry gash the bindings had made.
Carla returned with the washcloth, and Connie swabbed Harriet's face and hands. Mavis handed her a mug of peppermint tea with honey in it.
"Enough,” she finally said, but did take the proffered chocolate chip cookie.
"Start with your search of the buildings with Aiden,” Mavis prompted.
Harriet had just started when Aiden and Tom arrived. They had been searching for her and Lauren, and had just gotten word the women had been found.
"I didn't know who had taken me until Lauren and I had escaped,” she concluded after describing her kidnapping from the rest
room and escape from the attic. “Has anyone heard how Lauren's doing?” she asked, suddenly aware she'd been so wrapped up in her own rescue she'd forgotten to worry about Lauren.
"I called the hospital a few minutes ago,” Robin reported. “She's conscious, but they're running tests. The nurse said she's dehydrated and had lost some blood from her head wounds, so she'll probably be in the hospital a few days. They also suspect she has a concussion."
"I don't get it,” Sarah said. “Why on earth would that little mouse kidnap Lauren and Harriet? Didn't she tell us she's a partner in the school? It seems a little counterproductive to kidnap students. Who'd want to come back after that?"
"She wasn't a partner,” Tom said, a little louder than was necessary. “I'm sorry, but that witch spread a pack of lies about me and my mother. My mom did have dementia, Patience wasn't a partner and I'm not a botanist.” He looked at Harriet when he said the last bit.
"But why did she target Lauren?” Robin asked.
"I think I can answer that,” Detective Ruiz said. No one had noticed him come in. “What do I need to do to get a drink around here?"
"We've got tea,” Mavis said and got up to get a cup.
"Here, sit down,” Connie said and offered him the twig rocker. Mavis brought him tea and a small plate of cookies.
"Thank you.” He nodded at Mavis. He sipped his tea and closed his eyes briefly. “My mother always made us tea when we were sick,” he said with an embarrassed smile.
Aiden crossed the room and wedged himself in between Sarah and Harriet on the sofa. Tom sat on the floor in front of the river-rock fireplace.
"Lauren was targeted by Patience for two reasons,” Detective Ruiz began. “First, it seems that with, to quote Patience, ‘that meddling Harriet Truman's help,’ Lauren had figured out that her work had been copied and the copy was being sold in Europe. It seems that Patience had been copying and selling student work for years, and no one was the wiser.
"But the main reason she went after Lauren is that Patience had drawn up a new will for Selestina and had tricked her into signing it. After she set the poisoning in motion—that is, she laid out the poisoned thimble and waited for Selestina to use it—she put the new will in a file of employee benefits documents and left it on top of the victim's desk where it could be easily found. The files disappeared, and Patience came to believe that Lauren had them."
Quilter's Knot Page 22
