by Marta Perry
Julia didn’t speak, staring a bit vacantly at the cast, her eyes heavy-lidded. Probably a nap would do her good, but Sarah hadn’t the heart to leave on such a sad note.
“Have you seen anything of Donna since you confronted her?” She posed the question with a bit of hesitation, not sure that was a good topic of conversation, either.
But a little of Julia’s fire came back into her weathered face. “She actually came over here this morning, trying to pretend she was worried about me. The nerve of her!”
“Maybe she is worried,” Sarah suggested. “After all, you are kin.”
Julia snorted. “She should have thought of that before she stole from me. For that matter, she ought to have known that if she needed money that badly, I’d have given it to her. I have often enough before, Lord knows.”
Sarah wasn’t sure what to say to that. Her natural instinct was to want family to forgive, but there was something so distasteful about Donna sneaking a family treasure out of the house to sell it.
Julia yawned again, rubbing her eyes like a sleepy child. Sarah stood. “You’re tired. I should let you get some rest. We’ll come over tomorrow when we have the quilt.”
“No, wait. That reminds me. I’m sure I have some photos in an old family album upstairs that show the quilt years ago. Maybe even a picture of the woman who made it. That would add to the interest when you put it on display, right?”
“It would, that’s certain sure. But we don’t have to do that now—”
“I’d rather find it while it’s on my mind. You don’t mind going up and looking for it, do you? I’m sure I put the albums in one of the old traveling trunks. You can find it easily.”
Obviously it would be on Julia’s mind until it was found. She was like a dog with a bone when she latched on to an idea.
“I’ll have a look,” Sarah said. “I think I remember seeing some albums when I was searching for the quilts. But I do need to get back to the shop before too long.”
Julia grinned, satisfied that she’d gotten her way. “Better start, then.”
Sarah climbed the narrow stairs to the attic once more, imagining the complaining the movers must have made at bringing all these heavy things up.
Reaching the top, she switched on the light. The attic was as depressingly crowded as she remembered, but she could at least eliminate everything that wasn’t a trunk.
What would Julia do with all these things eventually? It seemed a shame that there was no family to cherish her heirlooms. Sarah’s grossmammi had begun giving her belongings, sparse in comparison to this, to each of her grandchildren. The hand-painted dower chest in Sarah’s bedroom had belonged to Grossmammi, and to her grossmammi before that. It was sad to think of Julia being so alone she didn’t even have someone to cherish her things. Just Donna, whose only interest was in their monetary value.
Somewhat to Sarah’s surprise, it didn’t take all that long to locate the chest containing the photo albums. Of course it helped that she’d been through the attic’s contents so recently. The older ones would be what Julia wanted, and they’d been wrapped in a sheet to protect them.
Sarah lifted them out, holding them carefully. Some of the pages were dry and loose, and an unwary movement might send them flying all over the attic. Best if she wrapped them in the sheet again for safety’s sake. A moment later, carrying the bundle close to her body, she made her way down the stairs. Her sneakered feet made little sound on the steps.
Julia had seemed so tired. She might well have fallen asleep while Sarah was in the attic. If so, she could leave the albums close at hand and slip out.
She reached the door to the living room and looked inside. Her breath caught, and for an instant she was frozen in place. Julia was asleep, slumped sideways in the chair. But Donna stood over her, holding a hypodermic needle near her cousin’s bared arm.
“Donna! What are you doing?” Sarah started forward, still clutching the sheet-wrapped bundle.
Donna jerked around at the sound, the needle wavering. Then her eyes narrowed, and she aimed the needle at the exposed veins in Julia’s arm.
Even as she rushed forward, Sarah knew she wasn’t going to be in time. The needle point would pierce the skin before she could reach them; Donna would drive it home... Sarah had to do something. Raising the bundle of albums, she threw it as hard as she could at the hand holding the needle.
All those hours spend playing ball with her brothers paid off. The bundle hit Donna’s arm, the sheet loosening, albums spilling all over the place. Sarah barreled into the woman, knocking her back. Thoughts tumbled through Sarah’s head, training battling instinct. She couldn’t attack another person. But she had to protect Julia, who was helpless and vulnerable.
They fell together, but Donna still gripped the needle. Sarah grabbed at it. If she could smash it against the floor, break it—
Donna drove her knee into Sarah’s stomach, knocking the breath out of her. She gasped, struggling for air, and felt the woman wrench the needle free. No! Forcing her muscles to work, Sarah grabbed for Donna, but she was already moving toward Julia. Scrambling to her feet, Sarah lunged forward, grabbing her arm. They struggled, swaying back and forth, Sarah hampered by her need not to strike.
Sound penetrated, freezing them both. The doorbell rang insistently.
“Help!” Sarah screamed the word. “Help us!”
She heard the door open, the rush of feet, saw Harvey Preston’s bulky figure fill the doorway.
“Help me! She’s trying to hurt Julia!”
Harvey came toward them, reached them, thank goodness. He would help. He...
Harvey drew his arm back and struck Sarah full in the face. She flew backward, heard the crack, felt the pain in the back of her head and slumped to the floor, trying to fight the blackness that overwhelmed her.
* * *
AARON PULLED UP in front of the police station and leaped down from the buggy. If he’d been able to drive a car, he’d have broken every speed limit getting here. He dashed inside, gripping the letter that had brought him here. Ignoring the receptionist, he burst into Mac’s office. Thank the gut Lord his old friend was here and alone.
“Look at this.” Aaron shoved the envelope into his face. “It just came in today’s mail. It’s from Matthew Gibson.”
Mac, apparently infected by his urgency, yanked out the letter, letting the envelope drop to his desk. He spread it out, reading the short note Aaron had already committed to memory.
“It’s in answer to my letter to him. He wrote it from Florida before he came. I knew I should have had a letter in answer. Look at it! He says Preston didn’t follow his orders about the sale of the property. That he was supposed to offer it to me first. Instead, he sold it to that out-of-state company without a word to me.”
Mac’s eyes met his, blazing with anger. “He says he’s coming back to confront Preston. Seems to me his death was mighty convenient for Harvey Preston. If this got out it would destroy him.”
“I didn’t think that far. I just wanted an explanation. I wanted to know that Matthew hadn’t forgotten his promise. Are you saying he might have been involved in Matthew’s death?”
“I’m saying Preston has some explaining to do.” Mac glanced at the date on the letter. “I don’t get it. Why did this take so long to reach you?”
“Look at the envelope.”
Together they studied the address. Matt Gibson’s hand must have trembled, the letters wavered so. And the zip code was wrong.
“Looks like it went to Ohio before someone caught the mistake in the zip code and forwarded it on here. We’re lucky Matt didn’t put his return address on it. Otherwise they might have returned it to Florida and we’d never have seen it.”
Mac pulled a plastic sleeve from his desk drawer and slid letter and envelope inside. “Too bad we bot
h touched this, but we might still be able to raise Matthew’s fingerprints. And we can find something with his handwriting to compare.”
“You’re thinking of a trial?”
“I’m thinking it very likely will come to that. For fraud, or malfeasance, or some fancy term the lawyers will come up with, even if we can’t prove anything against Preston in Gibson’s death.”
Mac put the sleeve into his desk drawer and turned to Aaron. “I’m going to find him now. Thanks, Aaron. This is going to open up a whole new case.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to ask to go with him, but Aaron didn’t want to put Mac into a position where he had to become official.
“Can you give me a lift to Blackburn House, then? I want to check on Sarah.” That was a good reason to invite himself along, and despite his resolution to keep Sarah out of his troubles, she deserved to know about this development. She and her family had cared about Matt Gibson as much as anyone.
“Come on, then.”
It only took a moment to climb into the police car, and little more than another to reach Blackburn House. They strode in the front door to find Allison standing in the entrance to the quilt shop. She seemed disappointed that they were the ones who’d come in.
“Where’s Sarah?” Aaron didn’t bother with greetings, an unexplained urgency pushing him forward. The need to see her built like pressure inside him. But she might not want to talk with him, not after the way he’d treated her the last time she saw him.
Allison frowned, her green eyes worried. “She went to Julia’s to talk to her about Gus Hill, but that was ages ago. She should be back by now.”
“Have you seen Harvey Preston? Is he in his office?” Mac cut in.
Allison blinked at his tone. “He went out about fifteen minutes ago.”
“I’m going to check on Sarah.” The need pushed at Aaron, demanding action.
“Wait.” Mac was peremptory. “I’ll drive you. I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
They hurried back to the police cruiser. “Keep an eye out for Preston or his car on the way,” Mac muttered. “I’d like to find him before I put out any announcements. There’s no reason to think he knows we’re after him.” His jaw tightened. “But he wanted Gibson to sell, and now Gibson’s dead. Julia told me a couple of times that he’d urged her to sell the farm property, and then her barn burned.”
“If someone was paying Gus to start the fires—”
“Supposition. But it makes me want to check on Julia Everly.”
And Sarah is there. Aaron’s hands clenched. Sarah.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
SARAH CAME BACK to herself slowly, vaguely aware of voices murmuring, sounding like the lapping of a creek. Her eyes were closed, and it seemed too much of an effort to open them. The nap of the carpet brushed her cheek.
Pain crept in. Pain in her jaw, pain in the back of her head. The pain sharpened her wits, and now she kept her eyes shut in defense. Donna—Donna and the needle approaching Julia’s arm, Julia helpless and unconscious in her chair. Sarah had struggled with Donna, trying to get the needle away from her.
Her forehead wrinkled as she struggled to think, but that seemed to increase the pain. Harvey Preston had come in. She’d thought they were saved. And then Harvey had hit her with his fist.
Clenching her jaw convinced her it was true. Harvey—genial, neighborly Harvey—had struck her.
The murmur of voices grew louder, more distinct. Sarah forced herself to focus. Harvey and Donna sounded angry—angry at each other, it seemed.
“I tried to do everything I could to help you.” Donna flung the words at him. It sounded as if the two of them were across the room, closer to the kitchen door. “The least you can do is help me now.”
“You helped me?” Harvey’s voice filled with scorn. “You were supposed to be convincing Julia to let me handle selling the farm. You told me you could do it. You claimed to have influence over her.”
“I did. Until those two women put their noses where they didn’t belong. They caused the trouble, not me.”
“You did it yourself. Greedy. You couldn’t be content to wait. You had to help yourself to that damn quilt. And then you said Gus Hill could help me get control of the property I wanted. He’d do anything for money.”
“Well, he would. You should have kept better control of him.”
They sounded far enough away that Sarah risked opening her eyes a slit. Engrossed in blaming each other, they didn’t even glance her way. She mentally measured the distance between where she lay and the door, and then between where they stood and her. She might make it out, if she caught them unaware. If her legs supported her, which seemed doubtful.
And there was Julia, helpless, immobilized by her cast and whatever drug Donna had given her. Julia said her cousin had been here earlier. She must have given her something to make her sleepy then.
Sarah couldn’t run and leave Julia to their mercy. And most likely she couldn’t make it to the door, anyway.
She dared open her eyes a little wider, risked turning her head slightly while they hurled insults at each other. She was only about five feet from the large window. If she threw something at it, would it break? Would anyone hear and come to investigate? She’d have only one chance. She had to make the most of it.
“Gus was never supposed to know I was involved at all. You must have let it slip. He started prowling around Blackburn House, spying on me.”
“I didn’t tell him.” Donna’s voice grew shrill. “He saw us out at that diner on the highway. I don’t know why we had to keep our relationship a secret, anyway. You’re divorced now. We can be together.”
So here was Donna’s mystery boyfriend. Harvey and his wife had divorced a year ago, and folks said she’d cleaned him out. Somehow he must have thought he’d recoup his losses with this scheme, whatever it was.
“Gus was worse than useless, setting fires I didn’t tell him to. And attacking Sarah Bitler—how stupid was that?”
“He said she’d threatened him. Said she’d talk to Julia. He said he had to scare her into keeping quiet. It wasn’t my fault.”
“No, nothing’s your fault, is it?”
Between slitted eyelids Sarah watched Harvey’s face. It was as cold as his voice.
“It wasn’t.” Donna looked as if she wasn’t sure of her ground. “Anyway, you have to help me. I did it for you. If Julia dies, I inherit. You can have the land, and we can go away together.”
“Aren’t you forgetting about Sarah? She’s not likely to stand back and let you live happily ever after.”
Sarah’s breath caught. Julia’s hand moved slightly. Her eyes, like Sarah’s, were barely open, but she was conscious. If she moved, if she drew attention to herself...
“Sarah has to have an accident. Like Gus. Like Matthew Gibson. You didn’t balk at that, did you?” Donna was taunting him, and that didn’t seem like a very safe thing to do.
“I told you I didn’t touch Gibson.” Harvey’s voice didn’t get louder. It got quieter...deadly quiet, making Sarah’s breath catch yet again. Who would have thought such evil lay behind the mask of the jovial, outgoing businessman?
Julia’s hand moved again. She grasped the edge of the tray that sat on the table next to her. If Julia tried something, there would be no time left.
Maybe there wasn’t, anyway.
“I suppose you’re right.” A decisive note sounded in Harvey’s voice. “I’ll have to make a clean sweep here. That’s the only safe way.”
He turned. He was coming toward them. Sarah had to act, now. She braced her hands against the floor. Push yourself up. Try to protect Julia. Pray surprise gives you time to attract help—
Harvey swore under his breath. He must have seen her movement. He came toward her fast—too fast. She tri
ed to rise to her feet—
Julia slung the tray and its contents toward him as he passed her. It broke his stride and he stumbled, then turned toward Julia, anger distorting his face. No time. Sarah shoved herself against him, praying, pleading with God to send help. But Harvey’s hands were around her throat, tightening—
The front window broke with a deafening crash. One of the porch chairs tumbled into the room, distracting him for a crucial second, long enough for Sarah to pull herself free. Mac threw himself through the window after the chair, tackling Harvey and sending him falling away from her.
And then Aaron was there, rushing toward her.
“Grab Donna,” Mac ordered, his knee on Harvey’s back, fastening handcuffs as the man writhed, trying to free himself. “Hurry.”
With a quick, reassuring glance at Sarah, Aaron ran to the kitchen door, closing it and standing against it. Donna spun, took two steps toward the other door and then stopped, hearing the sirens wail in the street outside.
She dropped to her knees. “It wasn’t my fault,” she cried. “He made me do it.”
The room was suddenly full of people. Sarah grasped the arm of Julia’s chair and struggled to stand. “Are you all right?” She leaned over, putting her arm around the elderly woman.
“I stopped him.” Julia said, satisfaction filling her voice. “Try to kill us, will they? We stopped them, the two of us.”
Julia was obviously triumphant, but all Sarah could feel was pain...pain for the wasted lives. And then Aaron picked her up and carried her to the nearest armchair, and she stopped thinking entirely.
* * *
BY EVENING, AARON felt as if this day had been a week long. Sarah had been rushed off to the hospital as soon as an ambulance reached them, and the paramedics had insisted on taking Julia in to check her out, as well. Mac had kept Aaron tied up making a lengthy statement, and then Mac had gone to the hospital to take statements from Julia and Sarah. Aaron felt he had been pushed to the sidelines, not even able to ferry Sarah’s parents back and forth, since Allison had taken over that job.
