by Marta Perry
She managed to smile, forced herself to hold out her hand. “Thank you again for everything you’ve done to help us get under way. I’m sure I’ll see you when I come back from time to time.”
He nodded, holding her hand for a moment as if there was something else he wanted to say. Then he turned quickly and was gone.
She sank back in the chair. She’d been wrong about one thing. It was already too late to keep from getting hurt.
FIFTEEN
Barney whined, lifting his head from the library carpet to look at Andrea. He probably wondered why she was still at the computer when everyone else in the house was asleep. Over the past week, she’d gotten into the habit of keeping the dog downstairs with her after Grams went to bed, letting him out for one last time and then putting him into Grams’s room when she went up.
“It’s all right, boy.” She leaned back in the desk chair, covering her eyes with her hands for a moment. The figures on the computer screen had begun to blur, particularly when she tried to compare them with the cramped writing in Grandfather’s last couple of ledgers.
Maybe it would be better to take all of the financial records back to the city with her on Monday, so that she could go over them at her leisure. She’d begun to find discrepancies. It looked as if Grandfather had been failing more than she’d imagined in his final years.
She studied the portrait above the mantel, her grandfather’s painted features staring back at her. Was that what happened? Had he really lost that sharp business sense of his and been too proud to admit it? She was startled to realize it hurt to think of him that way.
Aware of the dog whining again, she closed down the program and stacked the ledgers on the edge of the desk. “All right, Barney. You can go out, and then we’d both better get some sleep.”
Barney, understanding the words go out, trotted toward the back door. When she opened it, he darted outside with a sharp woof.
She leaned against the door, trying not to look in the direction of the barn. Of Cal’s empty apartment.
Working on the financial records had, for a few hours, absorbed her mind completely. She could get lost in the rows of figures as easily as other people got lost in a good book.
Now the pain came rushing back. Cal had shut the door on whatever might have been between them. She understood his reasons, but he could have given her some say in the matter. At least, he could have if he felt what she did.
Maybe she was wrong about that. Maybe those close moments between them, those kisses, had been merely attraction to him, with nothing more solid behind it.
Her mind fumbled with an unaccustomed prayer. I’m trying to find my way back to You, Lord. For a while, I thought Cal was going to be part of that, but I was wrong. Still, no matter how much it hurts to lose him, knowing him has helped me look at things more clearly. Please, guide me to live the way You want.
No lightning flashed. She didn’t have a burst of in-sight. But peace seeped into her heart, easing the pain and giving her comfort.
Barney barked, the sound muted. Frowning, she stepped outside and called, “Barney! Here, boy!”
Nothing moved anywhere in the lighted area of the yard. He must have gone farther afield while she stood there lost in thought.
Everything looked perfectly peaceful, but somewhere beyond the fringe of outbuildings, the dog yipped.
She reached back inside to slip the flashlight off its hook. She’d have to get him—if she went up to bed without him, Grams would have a fit. And he’d probably wake the house with his barking.
At least, with Levi in the hospital, she didn’t have to worry about encountering any prowlers. Poor Levi. Would charges be brought against him? Surely not, if Grams had anything to say about it.
She crossed to the toolshed, shining the light around. Beyond the range of the security lights it was pitch-black, the sliver of a new moon providing little illumination.
She called again, her voice sharp. This time the answer was a whining cry that sounded distressed, and her fingers tightened on the flashlight. Was Barney hurt? Trapped in some way? She hurried toward the sound, behind the row of outbuildings, into the blackness.
Yards ahead of her, across the overgrown lane, loomed the dark bulk of the old barn. A shiver went down her spine. The sound seemed to be coming from there.
The building had been kept in repair, but it hadn’t been used for anything in years. Still, there might be something that Barney’s collar could have become hooked on.
That must be it.
She trotted toward the earthen ramp to the upper level, flicking the flashlight around as she went, hoping she wouldn’t spot any night creatures larger than a mouse. But the dog’s presence had probably frightened away any other animals.
One of the big double doors stood ajar just enough for Barney to get through. She’d have to see that it was secured—something else to add to her to-do list. They couldn’t have inn guests wandering around where they might get hurt.
She entered, swinging the light. The space was empty, an oil mark on the floor mute testimony to the farm vehicle that had once been parked there. Grandfather must have had the barn cleared out when it was no longer in use.
Her flashlight beam picked up a small door opposite the entrance. The dog’s now-frantic barking came from there.
She hurried across the dusty floorboards and grabbed the door, yanking it open. A foul, metallic aroma rushed out at her. Memory stirred. They’d kept fertilizers and pesticides in here long ago. Her light bounced off floor-to-ceiling shelves, still laden with rusty cans. The place looked like a toxic waste dump. Her grandfather’s care of the building hadn’t extended to clearing this out, apparently.
Barney’s eyes shone in the light, and he wiggled with impatience. “Barney.” She was embarrassed at the slight tremor in her voice, even though there was no one but the dog to hear. “What happened, baby? Are you stuck?”
Sure enough, the dog’s collar was caught in the prongs of an old harrow that lay on the floor. She hurried to kneel beside him. When she patted him, she had to try to quiet his excited leaps and attempts to lick her face.
“Hold still, you silly thing. I can’t release you when you’re doing that.” She put the flashlight down, fumbling with the collar, the dog’s jumps nearly knocking her over. The flashlight rolled, illuminating what lay in the corner.
Nick Bendick. Uncle Nick. He sprawled against the wall, unconscious. Alive? Her heart seemed to stop.
“Uncle Nick?” She hurried to him, dropping to her knees next to the inert form.
She groped for his wrist, breathing again when she felt a pulse—weak, but at least he was alive. She grabbed the flashlight, trying to focus with hands that were shaking. It looked as if he’d stumbled on the harrow, hitting his head against the wall. But what on earth was he doing here?
The circle of light wavered, and she forced herself to steady it. It touched Nick’s hand, lying lax on the barn floor. Her breath caught, and the world seemed to spin.
In Nick’s hand was a dog leash, next to it a torn paper bag, dog biscuits spilling from it.
She couldn’t seem to move. Barney hadn’t gotten tangled up on his own. Nick had been waiting, knowing she always let the dog out the last thing at night. Had trapped Barney, apparently intending to use him to lure her here.
Her mind struggled to the obvious conclusion. The financial records. Anger swept through her. This was about her interest in the financial records. Grandfather hadn’t been losing his touch. Nick had been cheating him.
She had to get help. Run to the house, call the paramedics and the police, let them sort it out. She hurried back to the dog, struggled with the collar for another moment, and finally got it free.
Uncle Nick. It was impossible to believe. Could he really have intended to hurt her? Surely he’d never hurt anyone in his life.
Except Levi. Her mind seemed to leap from one understanding to another. Levi, lying on the floor with the keys planted next to him. Ho
w much of what had been happening had been caused by Nick’s frantic efforts to keep her from looking into the financial records? He must have realized she was the one person who would understand what he’d done.
The authorities would figure it out. Barney beside her, she hurried toward the door. Cool night air hit her like a slap in the face. Get help. That was all she could do now.
She darted toward the distant house, the circle of light bouncing ahead of her, and Barney woofed at the unexpected excitement. If Grams heard him, came out—well, she’d have to know the truth about the man she’d trusted soon, in any event.
If Cal were at the barn, she’d call on him for help. But he wasn’t. He’d left. Ridiculous, to feel that she needed him.
She rounded the corner of the toolshed and flew straight into someone.
She stumbled back, gasping. The security light showed her Betty, of all people. Another surprise in a night of surprises. She grasped the woman’s arm.
“You have to help me. It’s Nick—he’s hurt. He—”
“I’ll help.”
Betty patted her reassuringly with one hand. The other lifted something. Light reflected from a long, silvery shaft. It swung down, pain exploded in her head, and the ground came up to meet her.
Andrea struggled to open her eyes, but her head spun and ached. She’d just lie here another minute…
Then consciousness came rolling back. Nick. And Betty. Betty had hit her with a golf club. Impossible, but it had happened. Nick and Betty must be doing this together.
A warm, furry body next to her, a rough wet tongue washing her face. “Barney,” she whispered, coughing on the word.
She moved, aware of hard wooden boards beneath her, of the acrid smell that made her want to gag. She was back in the tiny storage room in the old barn. Barney was with her.
Something hard poked into her ribs. She rolled, feeling for it, and pulled out the flashlight. Fumbled for the switch, thinking if she had to stay in the dark another instant she’d start screaming…
The light came on. Maybe this was worse. She could see the tall shelves on either side of her, enclosing her with their load of poison. She sucked in a breath and was instantly sorry when the air burned her throat.
Then she saw what still lay against the wall. Nick.
Her mind spun.
Get out. She had to get out. She stumbled to the door, groping for the handle. Locked. Incredibly, Betty had locked her in here. Betty. How could she even have gotten her here? It was impossible.
Then she identified the sound that rumbled from beyond the door. A car’s engine. Betty must have driven up the overgrown lane behind the outbuildings and hauled her in here.
She pounded on the door. “Betty! Let me out of here. You can’t get away with this.”
“Can’t I?” Betty’s voice was muffled by the thick door, but she must be standing close to it on the other side. “I think I can. You’ve always underestimated me, all of you. My plans have been made for a long time, my money safely salted away under another name. I knew Nick would break down at some point. He always had such a soft spot for your grandmother.”
She sounded like an indulgent mother, admitting a failing in her child.
“You were stealing from the firm.” Hard to think it through, with the fumes fogging her brain. “But Nick—was he in it with you? Is that what this was all about?”
“Nick had a little gambling problem, you see. Borrowed some money from the accounts. He wasn’t very good at it. Your grandfather would have found him out in a week if it hadn’t been for me.” There was a trace of pride in her voice.
“Betty, think about what you’re doing.” She forced herself to be calm. Rational. One of them should be. “Just let me out, and we’ll go to the police together. I’ll get you a lawyer—”
Betty chuckled. “Dear Andrea, always so sure you know what’s best. I have no intention of going to the police. You and Nick are going to have an unfortunate accident, and I’m going to be far away by the time it’s sorted out and they start to look for me.”
“Accident…” She tried to move, but her muscles didn’t obey. She could lie down, just rest for a moment; it would be all right….
Shock sent her upright. Her mental fog wasn’t just from the closed room and the cans of chemicals. The car was running because Betty was pumping carbon monoxide into the room.
She dropped to her knees, fingers fumbling along the bottom of the door. Yes, there was the mouth of a hose, thrust under the corner of the door.
Please, Lord, please, Lord, help me know what to do. If I can just block it…
She swung the light around, picking up an old feed sack shoved onto a shelf. Grab it, twist a piece small enough to fit into the hose, stuff it in, coughing and choking, pray it blocked enough to give them a few more precious moments to live….
A few moments. Not enough. No one would look for her until morning, probably. How long would it take until they searched here?
She slumped back, trying to force her numbed wits to move. The walls were closing in. She couldn’t stop them, and she felt the familiar panic, blurred by her fogged mind, but there, creeping in, loosening her control.
Father, help me hold on. If I panic, I’ll die. Forgive me for drifting away from You. Hold me in Your hands, living or dying.
Hands. Hands reaching out to her, pulling her free. She shook her head, knowing it was a memory, but a memory of what?
It wouldn’t come. Think. What else could she do?
Noises outside the door. A car door opening and closing. The car driving away. Betty was gone.
She was still alive, and so was Nick from what she could tell. But not for long unless she could think of something. She swung the light around. Metal shone for an instant on the shelf—she reached, hand closing on a bar about the size of a tire iron.
Excitement flooded her, clearing her mind. If she could get the door open…
But a moment’s effort showed her that was impossible. The door was solid, resisting her feeble efforts to open it.
Think. Think. If you can’t get out, maybe you can get air in. The wall behind her was solid stone, the end wall of the barn. Nothing there, but the wall to her right must be an outside wall.
She crawled over to it, dragging the bar. Barney, whimpering a little, struggled to her side. Was it her imagination, or was the air a little better here? The dog seemed to think so. He put his nose at the base of the wall, right where the siding boards came down to meet the floor.
Nick. She crawled back to him, grabbed his arms, and dragged him toward the wall. No time now to worry that she was injuring him further. If she didn’t get them some air, they would die.
Adrenaline pulsing, she ran her hand along the joint, feeling the slightest crack between the boards. Big enough to wedge the bar in? Her fingers seemed to have grown stupid along with her brain. It took three tries before she forced the bar in.
Wiggle it, shove it, find something to hit it with—but there she ran out of luck. There was nothing loose in the room sturdy enough to hit the bar. She’d have to keep wiggling it, trying to force it through to the outside, but her mind was fogging again.
Ironic. She’d filled up the slight crack with the pry bar, cutting off whatever air might come through.
Give me strength, Lord. Help me. I know You’re here with me. I know whatever You intend is right. But I can’t stop trying, can’t stop fighting….
“To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under Heaven. A time to live and a time to die…”
Barney slumped to the floor. Poor boy. He’d go first. She and Nick were bigger, so they’d last longer. Push, keep pushing, a little farther…
“A little farther, Drea.” Her grandfather’s voice. He was the only one who’d ever called her that. “Just a little farther. Don’t stop now. Another inch, and you’ll reach my hands.”
Another inch. A vague dream of Grandfather’s strong hands, tight on hers, lifting her out
into the cool air, holding her close. Safe. She’d always been safe with him.
Safe in God’s hands. Living or dying…
Another inch. She pushed the bar, felt the resistance give way as it slid through. Befuddled. Taking a moment to realize she had to pull the bar back out.
Feel the cool air on her face, rushing in through the hole she’d made. Drinking in long gasps of it. Drag Nick’s limp form, then Barney, up to the opening, feeling the dog stir.
But tired. So tired. She slumped down, head on Barney’s fur.
SIXTEEN
Cal eased off on the accelerator when he hit the outskirts of Churchville. He was making a fool of himself, rushing back at this hour, but the urge to see Andrea again, to clear the air between them, had been too strong to ignore.
He’d tried hiding from life, and it hadn’t worked. He couldn’t hide. Life kept finding him.
And beneath that urge to see Andrea had been something he couldn’t explain, a sense that all was not right. An urgent feeling that he was needed.
Well, he was here, and how he’d explain arriving at this late hour, he didn’t know. They’d all be asleep, probably, and he’d have to wait until morning to see Andrea anyway.
But as he turned into the drive at the inn, he saw the glow of lights in the library. It had to be Andrea, sitting up late at the computer. Relief flooded through him, making him realize just how tense he’d been.
A glimpse of movement drew his attention. From beyond the outbuildings, a dark car spurted out, hit the winding country road and raced away.
Cal jammed on the brakes and slid out, leaving the motor running, all his instincts crying out. That was wrong, very wrong. He ran toward the back door, and the minute he saw it, he knew his instincts were on target. The door stood open, light pooling out onto the patio, and no one was there.
