by Debra Jupe
Gracie stooped to peer through the window. “You’re overreacting.”
“No, I don’t think I am. If someone wants the three of us dead, Quinn will be next. Many times if I had a gun, I would’ve shot her myself.”
Gracie straightened. “A lot of people feel that way.”
“So you understand my point.”
A distant low guttural moan pierced the darkness.
Krystal froze. “Did you hear that?”
It became quiet for a moment, then another series of groans followed.
“That must to be Quinn.” Krystal’s voice held a hint of relief. She walked further away and stopped again.
Gracie remained by the car. “Are you sure? Sounds more like a wounded animal.”
“It’s Quinn.” Krystal hurried in the direction of the noise.
Gracie rushed to catch up. “Slow down. Might be a trap.”
“I don’t think so. That’s Quinn.”
Even with Krystal’s assurance, the two treaded carefully across the trail toward the peculiar sound. They circled the building. The groans grew louder, coming from the other side of the office.
“Anything?” Gracie whispered as they advanced to the steps leading to the back entrance.
“Not yet.”
The women lifted their lights and shined them onto a small deck. Amongst the shadows, a small form curled up against the door at the top stairs. Quinn scrambled to her feet, leaped from the edge, and threw herself into Gracie. She buried her face into her shoulder and wept loudly.
Gracie looked at Krystal helplessly.
“Quinn?” Krystal dislodged her away from Gracie, giving her a solid shake. “Get a grip. Now’s not the time to lose it. We need to stay in control.”
Quinn lifted her head. She wiped her wet face with a shirtsleeve. “She was my best friend. She saved my life, and now she’s dead.”
“Best friend?” Gracie and Krystal exchanged confused glances. “I thought all they did is fight.”
“Their way of relating.”
“How did she take care of you, Quinn?” Gracie flipped her phone light off and slipped the device back into her pocket.
“The killer pointed a gun at me, and she shoved me down. My good friend took a bullet meant for me. She died in my place.”
Gracie frowned at Krystal.
Krystal shrugged. “You said you fell when you stumbled on a rock.”
“I did,” Quinn insisted. “I tripped because she pushed me into the ground.”
“You didn’t say anything about being shoved earlier.”
Quinn divided a glare between Gracie and Krystal. “This has been very traumatic. I may be having some delayed reactions or repressed memories or something.”
Krystal opened her mouth but apparently decided against getting into an argument. “You’re right, Quinn, this situation is upsetting. We’ll do better if we’re not here, so let’s go home.”
“We’re going to leave her?” Quinn gestured out into the gloom. “We can’t. She’s a hero.”
“We’re not sure if the victim is Vivian. We’re speculating at this point.”
“Krystal’s right. If we’ve discovered a murder, the police need to be called. We shouldn’t mess with any evidence and spoil a chance to discover who killed her.”
“We already know, Gracie,” Quinn exploded. “Your damn boyfriend pulled the trigger.”
Arms crossed across her middle, Quinn glared at Gracie waiting for her to challenge. Quinn’s words stung, more than if Gracie had been shot herself. Ethan may be a jerk, a user, or just a plain sorry ass, but she still couldn’t accept the guy was a cold blooded killer.
She stepped in front of Quinn. “You’re talking out your butt. You have no proof to support your claim.”
Krystal quickly maneuvered between the two, holding up her hands, a palm facing toward each of them. “Okay, okay, this is not the time for a fight. We’ve got too many things happening, and we need to stick together.” She raised her brows at Quinn. “Quinn?”
Quinn’s chin fell to her chest. “I’m sorry Gracie. I’m a little crazy.”
More so than usual. Gracie nodded as an acceptance to her apology although she didn’t fully forgive her yet. “We need to leave. This place has us jittery.”
“I agree.” Krystal walked to the vehicle. “Let’s go. Once we’re far away, I’ll borrow Gracie’s phone to call Bud and report. I’ll explain we were scared the murderer is still on the property and so we left.”
Quinn shook her head. “We shouldn’t leave her.”
“Hey,” came a shout from behind. “Y’all aren’t going without me, are you?”
The three woman froze and gaped at the shadow strolling toward them.
Krystal was the first to discover her voice. “Vivian?”
Vivian walked to the group. “Yeah, it’s me, what gives?”
“We heard shots, and we couldn’t find you.” Gracie was still in shock, but happy to find her friend alive and well. “We found a body, we thought—”
“A body?” She whirled around. “Where?”
Krystal indicated the direction. “In a greenhouse. Next to the last house on the back row.”
“You were with me when the gun was firing.” Quinn seemed bewildered. “You pushed me down, right? You saved me.”
Vivian shook her head. “A strange noise was coming from the potting barn. I stepped inside to check things out while you walked ahead. I hid after the blasting started and stayed till the coast was clear.”
Quinn held up her cell. “I tried to call you when we couldn’t find you. Why didn’t you answer?”
“Turned my ringer off.” She smiled guiltily. “Sorry.”
“Doesn’t matter now,” Krystal said, relieved. “We’re glad you’re okay.”
Gracie pointed out into the darkness. “There’s still a dead person lying in the back of the nursery.”
“Then let’s go find out who the newly deceased is,” Vivian said. “After, we can call Bud, though I’m sure he’s about seven sheets to the wind by now and will be no help at all.”
Krystal glanced behind at Gracie with a meaningful look. “The pickup earlier probably was our bad guy, but there is a chance it wasn’t. The person or people who were shooting could still be here.”
Vivian’s expression showed surprise. “What pickup?”
Krystal explained the occurrences that’d happened up until they’d met up again.
“The shooter had to be in the truck,” Quinn insisted.
“Maybe. I’m convinced the plant thieves have something to do with Mike’s death.” Krystal glanced at Gracie. “And I agree with Gracie. More than one person is involved. Someone could be here, and we wouldn’t even know. We may be viewed as a threat. They might come after us.”
Quinn broke into a run to her car, flinging the door open. She motioned to the others. “Let’s go. I think I’ll trade my car off tomorrow. The murderer probably saw it and could run the license plates on the Internet to track me down. I’ll end up dead, too. He may think I know something.”
“I doubt it, Quinn.” Vivian followed Quinn and opened the car door. “Everyone knows you don’t know anything.”
“The killer doesn’t.”
“I saw the killer, so no worries there.”
The group kept their eyes on Vivian who nodded with a deliberate smile. “I cracked one of the potting barn’s doors to peek out after the shots were fired. He walked right past me.” She looked at Gracie. “I’m sorry. But it was Ethan. And he had a gun.”
Chapter 22
This assignment fit him to a tee. Ethan glanced at the gun lying on the seat next to him as he disregarded the lingering odor of cordite that still tickled his nostrils. He zipped down the desolate, snaky road, driving away from the chaos. Away from another nightmarish memory. He snatched his phone and pressed the direct dial with added force.
“Are you still inside?” he asked when his connection answered.
“Ye
ah, where the hell are you?”
“I had to leave. Too many people hanging around. What the fuck’s going on?”
The sound of a throat clearing came from the other end. “I’m in the sales office, looking out the window.” There was a pause. “Vivian, Krystal, Quinn, and your girlfriend, Gracie Desoto are outside.”
Ethan chose to ignore the jab about Gracie. “I thought I caught a glimpse of Vivian snooping around the potting barn.”
“Did she catch you?”
“Not sure.” Ethan swiped a hand over his face to wipe a burst of perspiration from his forehead. He forced his concentration from the incident, keeping his focus on the drive and conversation. “What are they doing now?”
“Seems like they’re having a serious discussion.” Another hesitation followed. “I can’t do anything with them here. Any ideas?”
“Not at the moment. Unless you want to call the good Sheriff Bud and report them for trespassing. Anonymously, of course.”
“Too risky. We may end up running into each other.”
“Doubtful. After he’s drank his evening meal, he wouldn’t notice if you stood right in front of him. He’s not that great of investigator when he’s sober.” Ethan gave a dry chuckle. “He’s probably sleeping off his liquid dinner anyway.”
“He needs his imbibes. Guy’s got a rough job. Not to change the subject, but were those your gunshots I heard coming from the nursery?”
“One of them,” Ethan answered wryly. “Not sure where the others came from.”
“You found the mole? Who’s setting you up?”
“Yep and he is no more. It came down to him or me.
“Who we suspected?”
“Ortiz.”
“Damn. You’re sure?”
“Yeah. We had a little conversation before he drew on me. I’d hoped I was wrong. I’m pretty sure he was taking orders from the big boss.” Ethan sighed. “’Bout to put in a call. Get a group out there to clear away the mess before anyone finds him. We don’t need any more locals getting involved.”
“True that. Just be sure to report in sooner than you normally do. I’d already clued the boss lady in on suspicions if that helps.”
“I plan to.” Ethan turned onto his drive, rotating the knob to his headlights to off. Using only his senses, he guided his truck over the twining, graveled path. “Hopefully she’ll allow me to disappear now.”
“Don’t count on it. Sounds like she wants you in on this till the end.”
“That’s my vibe, too. I can always hope.” He veered away from the main drive and circled around the grassy land, dodging trees and wild scrubs until he faced the front of the house.
“In the meantime, watch your back. Your terminating Ortiz is bound to open another can of worms.”
“I’m aware,” Ethan said. “Get creative and run those women off so you can finish your work. They need to stop nosing around in our business, especially Gracie.”
“I think they’re about to go. They’re getting in the car.”
“Good.” He punched the off button with his thumb.
He maneuvered his truck into a clove a trees then killed the engine. His alert gaze remained fixated onto the small cabin he’d called home for the past few weeks. He stayed inside, watching his house. He didn’t need anyone to tell him to be careful. His instincts screamed. A threat lingered close by. A glint of light flickered through the front window. Hair on the back of his neck stood, raising to full height.
With a sigh, he stretched across the seat and picked up his gun. Time for another showdown. He quietly pulled the latch on his truck door and slipped outside. He crept across the grass, hiding behind the surrounding brush, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary.
A blanket of clouds circled low. Quick flashes of light danced from one vapor to the other as deep rumbles from above indicated a storm was moving in quickly. The encircled live oaks rustled and swayed around him. Strong winds whistled a foreboding tune, carrying the scent of danger within its gusts.
His adrenaline kicked up a notch and seeped through every channel of his body, each nerve ending going into high alert. Expertly, he sidled to the door and twisted the knob. Just as he expected. His uninvited company left it unlocked.
First mistake. He pushed it open with the tip of his boot.
Quietly, it slowly swung ajar.
He slinked around the edge. He aimed his pistol into the darkness, cocking the striker, his finger ready to pull the trigger at any oddness.
The storm had progressed. Lightning flashed through the opened blinds, his furniture eerily silhouetted against the flares. A sound from behind made him flinch. His gut gave him a solid nudge. He spun toward the bedroom, catching a slight movement. An earsplitting blast came from the doorway. Ethan dove behind the couch, just as a spark of heat zipped past his ear.
Close. His heart pounded. Too close.
All these attempts on his life pissed him off royally. Time to finish this. He peered from behind the sofa, waiting. His trigger finger itched.
Ready.
Nothing.
His opponent was doing the same as him. Hoping he’d make the first move. He removed a cushion and raised the edge barely above the top of the sofa’s surface.
Another explosion zoomed his way.
He raised and fired. One more shot followed. His foe had discharged again.
Several thunder rolls boomed above as Ethan hit the ground, revolving across the floor, halting near the big screen. He rose to his knees and knuckled the floor to steady himself. A solid blow from behind smashed into his head. A rough groan ripped from his throat. Pain exploded throughout his entire body. His hands covered his forehead. Warm liquid saturated his palms, trickling down his jawline.
He lay still, his face bloodied and body feeling broken. But he didn’t hear anything. Maybe this is what they came to do.
Beat the shit out of him.
He brushed the blood from his eyes, managing to open one. He attempted to lift his head. Unbearable pain crashed against his brain as another moan escaped.
Somewhere in the distance, he swore somebody chuckled. Evil. A dark figure—a mere shadow stood above him holding something small in their hand.
A flash of lightning sketched over a cruel, twisted smile.
In slow motion, the second hand raised, followed by a decisive click.
****
Gracie drove down the unlit roads at a steady speed, her headlights reflected against the pavements’ blackness. She forced her thoughts to remain blank. If she deliberated too much of what she was about to do, she’d turn around and forget this crazy idea. She should. Ethan ended their so-called relationship, and she ought to let things go. Keep everything in perspective and not come off like a half-crazed, half-desperate woman she’s sure he’d believe her to be after this final encounter.
But she needed to know.
She didn’t even understand why. Had she fallen in love with him, as Betty insisted? Or was it because this was the first real relationship she’d experienced since her marriage ended. Or maybe the combination of too much alcohol and the prodding of her friends made her contemplate then make this impulsive journey.
Whatever the reason, she was determined to see it through.
Clouds swirled as lightning flickered across the night sky. The wind had picked up. The heavy gusts seized her truck, shifting the vehicle off to the side. She held the steering wheel steady, careful to keep it on the road.
Thoughts of tonight’s events at the nursery circled in her mind, too. What was going on at that place? Whose body was inside the greenhouse? Had to be Ethan’s truck passing through since Vivian saw him—with a gun. Quinn will add his armed presents to her guilty arsenal, and for sure let the authorities in on the information.
She drove to the hidden cove across from Ethan’s property, turned in and parked, cutting her engine. She gazed into the blackness, observing the storm as it reeled though the darkness. Tall pines gathered aroun
d the spot, bent; their flexed trunks ready to snap at the wind’s strong will.
Really, she must have lost her mind. To say this was a bad idea was an understatement. Yet, she opened her door and stepped outside. The cool gales shoved her into the truck’s side. Rapid flashes projected ominous shadows against the haziness. Low rumbles growled, seemingly at her.
Gracie ignored the drama and sprinted across the open field, hurrying to the cluster of brush. She reached into her pocket for her phone, snapping on the light to guide her into the thicket. She fought her way through the undergrowth, trekking the dimmed outlined path until she faced Ethan’s backdoor. She turned off her flashlight.
No lights were on inside. He wasn’t home. Bravely, she stepped from her hideout, hiked to the house, and peeked in the bedroom. Everything remained dark. How could she find out anything if she couldn’t see? She sneaked to the other set of windows. Nothing. No real clue as to where Ethan was or what he was up to.
This whole idea was a bust from the get go. She doubted he’d give her any information if he had been here, and if she’d summoned enough nerve to knock on the door.
She may as well head back to her truck. Tiny drops pelted her skin. The storm was almost over the house. If she didn’t hurry, she’d be drenched within seconds.
On a whim, she touched the doorknob and gave it a twist.
The door slowly drifted open. Gracie froze and surveyed the murky innards of Ethan’s house. She allowed her eyes to adjust as she mounted the rear step, standing in the pitch-black opening. Nothing stuck out, yet something was off. She sniffed the air. A strange smell saturated the space. Her phone was still in her hand. She flipped the light back to on and carefully scanned the room, walking inside to the center.
Rain tapped on the roof, spattering across the windows. The storm had blown in and was raging in full force. Didn’t matter. Time for her to get out and return to her truck. She’d just have to get wet.
She took a step toward the opened door. A huge flash of lightning brightened the insides. A slight crack in Ethan’s bedroom caught her attention. She stopped in her tracks.
One peek and then she would go.
