by Meg Muldoon
My stomach did a few more back flips, and I thought I might be sick.
Kevin was a bad liar. I could hear it in his voice.
There’d have been no way that he would have left Wes in peace. No way he was going to just take the treasure and leave Wes alive to talk.
Not a chance in hell.
After Wes led Kevin to the cave, Wes must have seen that his two options were both bad ones – wait and see what Kevin did next with that loaded gun. Or create a distraction big enough and try to get away.
He chose the latter, trapping himself in the process.
And now… now we were all here at this point.
“You’ve been waiting around like a vulture since then, haven’t you?” Daniel said, anger making his voice grow louder. “Waiting for somebody to come along and help you move those boulders. You couldn’t do it on your own.”
Kevin grinned.
“My apologies, Sheriff. I should have thanked you and Cin, here, for your help with that right off the bat. I must have forgotten my manners in the cave with Wes and all that treasure.”
Kevin Hayward was deranged. To do any of this – to plan it and follow through – a person would have to be certifiable.
“And what about Angie?” Daniel asked. “You know what you did to her? Do you know what you’ve put her through, you bastard?”
Kevin tilted his head. His eyes were almost black.
It was clear that whether Angie had lived or died didn’t matter one way or another to him.
“She’d served her purpose,” he said, coldly. “And besides. She deserved it after what she did to Wes. She hurt him more than I ever could.”
Kevin lifted the gun higher suddenly.
“Now that the two of you have been so good as to get all those heavy-ass rocks out of the way, I’m going back to the cave. And I’m going to go get what’s mine. So Sheriff, you better lower your weapon this very moment. Or this boy here’s gonna lose what little patience he has left.”
I swallowed hard, shooting a quick glance at Daniel.
He knew it just as well as I did – if he lowered his weapon and let Kevin get that bag from the cave, there was no possibility that we were going to get away.
Kevin would get what he was after. And as soon as he did, he’d kill us.
All of us.
But continuing the way we were – with both of them pointing guns at each other – was only going to end one way.
In a shootout.
And though I believed Daniel would be the quicker of the two, I still didn’t care much for those odds.
I swallowed hard.
In the matter of a few minutes, we’d gone from feeling pure elation at finding Wes alive to fighting for not only his life, but ours as well.
We’d all been blindsided by Kevin. Completely and utterly fooled.
“Well?” Kevin said. “What are you all waiting for? Git along, little doggies. Unless of course you want to do this the hard way, Sheriff Brightman. We could go all Old West over this business. Have ourselves an old-fashioned shoot-out.”
Daniel didn’t answer. He held his gun steady.
“You’re not a bad person, Kevin,” he said, his voice calm and collected. “You know that you’re better than this. You can stop now, and we’ll work it out. Nobody’s died yet. And if you lower your gun, nobody will, either.”
Kevin scoffed.
“The only way this is gonna work itself out, Sheriff, is if I get my hands on that treasure,” he said. “Anything short of that won’t end well for you. Or for Cin, here, either.”
It wasn’t going to end well for us even if he did get that treasure.
That I was sure of.
“You’ve spent this entire summer selflessly saving other people, Kevin,” Daniel said, not willing to give up on a peaceful outcome. “You’ve done it out of the goodness of your heart. I know it. I’ve worked with you. Don’t tell me that it’s all been an act.”
“That’s exactly what it was,” Kevin said, not missing a beat. “The only reason I came here this summer was because Wes told me about the treasure and that he was gonna find it, come hell or high water this time. I believed him. And damn if I wasn’t right.”
Kevin’s eyes were large and even darker now. Filled with greed and malice and ill-will toward everyone and everything.
I felt it.
Time was up.
“Get moving,” he said. “Now.”
My mouth went dry.
Daniel drew in a deep breath.
“We’re not going to do that,” he said. “And if you don’t lower your gun this minute, then I’ll shoot. And I don’t miss from this range, Kevin. When my deputies get here, they’re going to be looking for pieces of you for miles around.”
His voice boomed.
Daniel was trying to scare him. A last ditch effort to keep us from a shootout. A last ditch effort to save all of our lives.
I studied Kevin’s face as Daniel spoke. He seemed to be surprised and a little jarred by Daniel’s loud, no-nonsense voice. And for a split second, he almost looked scared.
But then, that smug, self-satisfied, greedy expression came back. And I knew that nothing was going to get in Kevin’s way of that treasure.
Not Angie.
Not Wes.
Not Daniel.
And not me.
We were cooked. As doomed as a turkey the third week of November.
“Maybe you won’t miss, Sheriff,” he said. “But I’ll still have time to get off a round. And I think you stand to lose a hell of a lot more here than I do.”
His eyes flashed at me.
Then, in a sudden, unexpected move, he swung his gun in my direction, his finger pressing on the trigger.
Fear coursed through my veins like an out-of-control train.
“Maybe you need reminding of that, Sheriff,” he growled, brandishing the weapon. “Yeah, come to think of it – I think you do.”
He stumbled forward.
And that’s when Kevin Hayward, the Pohly County Search & Rescue volunteer who was known for his good nature, fun-loving ways, and love of food, aimed the gun right at me and fired.
Chapter 57
The sour smell of gunpowder permeated the fresh mountain air.
I screamed, crashing backwards onto the forest floor. I shut my eyes tightly and braced for the pain. Braced for the blood. Braced for all the bad things to come.
Somewhere in the distance, I heard the sound of branches breaking. An animal, maybe, frightened by the commotion. Running for its life.
The shock of being shot was so severe, all I felt was numbness. And all I could hear was the pounding of my heart, hammering away in my chest like a man imprisoned on a sinking ship.
I opened my eyes and gathered up the courage to look down at my stomach – where Kevin Hayward had shot me.
I bit my lip hard, then forced my eyes down to the point of impact.
I let out a gasp.
There was no wound. Not even as much as a scratch. And no blood, either.
At least, no blood that belonged to me.
My eyes traveled down the length of my body, and then past my feet.
He lay there, the life in his eyes fading fast as a haunting gurgling sound emanated from his mouth. Blood spilled out and spread across the dusty forest floor beneath him. He gazed at me, his panicked eyes searching mine frantically. He mouthed something I couldn’t understand.
His gun lay a few feet away down the hill.
Suddenly, a strong hand gripped my arm, lifting me up, pulling me to my feet.
It took me a few moments longer to realize that I hadn’t been shot. That I was completely fine. And that the bullet that Kevin Hayward had fired at me had somehow, inexplicably, missed.
And that I wasn’t the one dying – he was.
I felt familiar arms around me, holding me tight.
“Don’t look, Cin,” he whispered. “Don’t look.”
But I had to look.
&nb
sp; I had to watch.
Daniel let go of me and knelt down, applying pressure to Kevin’s wound. Trying to stop him from bleeding out.
Maybe it was just the shock of it and all that blood and the fact that my nerves were more frayed than a ripped electrical wire, but I started trembling then. Like Jell-O on a roller coaster, I couldn’t stop shaking.
I bit my lip hard again.
All of this – Kevin, Angie, Wes… all of this spilt blood and maliciousness, and for what?
For what?
I didn’t know.
A few moments later, a faint droning sound filled the sky overhead.
Chapter 58
I took a sip of my pumpkin cinnamon latte, savoring the comforting milky and spicy blend as it swirled around inside my mouth. Townes Van Zandt’s Live at the Old Quarter, Houston, Texas played in the background, giving the quiet kitchen an intimate feel. Festive orange and white Halloween lights flickered around the kitchen. Meanwhile Huckleberry and Chadwick sat curled up in their doggy beds, sleeping peacefully.
We’d just closed the pie shop for the evening after a long, busy day. Now that the front window had been repaired, we were back in business, and I was happy to see that things were booming again. With it now being October, folks were using the cool weather as an excuse to gorge themselves on our Pumpkin Pecan, Pumpkin Chocolate Chip, Pumpkin Maple, and Pumpkin Gingersnap pies with wild abandon. And I was more than glad to help them do it.
I’d just finished putting the last batch of pies in the oven for the evening and was taking a short break, enjoying a little pumpkin celebration of my own – the first pumpkin latte of the season from The Christmas River Coffee Shack. I’d left the back door open so that the crisp breeze could drift in. There was the faint smell of leaves burning on the air – and as the sun lowered over the woods, I was struck by a warm and cozy feeling that the upcoming holiday months promised plenty of.
I leaned back on the stool, flipping through a Grandin Road Home Decor magazine full of Halloween decorations, and took another sip of the foamy drink.
I paused for a moment, closing my eyes, and letting out a sigh.
I was so grateful to finally be in October and out of these past few hellish weeks.
Because if it was up to me, I would have found a way to completely forget about what had happened the month before. To erase the events from my memory altogether.
Events like the brick crashing through the pie shop’s window – and the fact that the culprit was still out there somewhere. Like Angie crawling out of the woods, close to death. Events like Wes going missing, nearly being trapped forever in the cold, dark confines of a lava cave.
Events like nearly being shot by a treasure-crazed mad man.
And then seeing that crazed mad man – someone who had been trusted and loved by the community – get shot and nearly die himself.
I kept my eyes closed for a second longer, trying to picture something else other than the shocked look in Kevin Hayward’s eyes that day when he realized he’d been the one shot. I tried not to think of his bloated face, or the coppery smell of blood and dirt and pine.
But the images were too strong – still too fresh. Everything, it seemed, was still too fresh.
I shuddered.
Kevin’s injuries were serious. He’d been shot in the chest and part of his lung had to be removed. From what the doctors had told Daniel, Kevin’s recovery would be a long one. One that he would more than likely make from prison, considering the number of charges he was facing – which included several counts of attempted murder.
I shook my head, opening my eyes. I gazed out the window, watching as the sun’s rays faded into shades of amber with the approaching evening.
I wasn’t sure if I really believed in divine intervention.
But that day, in the woods, at that desperate and pivotal moment when Kevin was about to pull the trigger of his gun, something along the lines of divine intervention had occurred.
In fact, in that moment, I’d had a guardian angel looking out for me.
Though Daniel had been the one to shoot Kevin, someone else had intervened first.
Someone had been out there in the forest, watching us that afternoon. Someone who, in the moments right before Kevin was about to shoot me, had thrown a piece of lava rock, hitting the big man in the arm and throwing off his aim.
Someone who had saved my life.
Someone who had run away right after Daniel fired his own weapon and put Kevin Hayward down.
Daniel had only caught a glimpse of the mystery man in the woods as he ran away. He described him as 5’8 or 5’9, older, with shoulder-length grey hair and a baseball cap.
A man who also happened to run with a slight limp.
At least, that’s what Daniel thought he saw.
Either way, both Daniel and I had a lot to be thankful for. Without the mystery man creating the diversion that he did, we might not be here now. And Wes might not, either.
Wes was severely dehydrated, had a compound fracture of his femur, and several broken ribs when the medics airlifted him to the hospital.
But he was alive. Shaken and bloodied and carrying both visible and invisible injuries.
But alive.
And what was more, the doctors said he was going to make a full recovery. Which, considering all of the possible outcomes and terrible endings that could have been, was nothing short of a damn miracle—
“Uh, Cin?”
I turned around and saw Tobias standing there in the doorjamb that separated the dining room from the kitchen. His face was downcast, the way it had been for the past week or so. A dark cloud seemed to hover around him wherever he went.
“Hey,” I said, closing the catalogue and standing up. “How’s everything going, Tobias?”
“I’m gettin’ through, I suppose,” he said with a weak shrug.
The poor man looked exhausted. Dark circles clung to the bottom of his eyes. And his skin had taken on an unhealthy grey pallor that I didn’t like seeing.
He might have been getting through, all right.
But just barely.
If I thought giving him some days off would make him feel better, I would have in a second flat. But I knew a thing or two about a broken heart. And I knew that sometimes, the best thing for it was to throw yourself into your work. Too much time to think could only aggravate things. And that was something that Tobias of all people didn’t need.
“Would you like a slice of something before you head out?” I asked.
“No thanks, Cin,” he said. “I’ve got to get to the soup kitchen now. The boys’ll be counting on me there. But I just wanted to say goodnight before I left.”
I bit my lower lip and nodded.
It killed me seeing him like this.
Tobias had worked so hard to turn his life around and to make something of himself. He’d done everything right.
But sometimes, even when you do everything right, things don’t work out the way they should.
That had been another one of those events that happened this September I’d rather have forgotten about – the fact that Tiana had told Tobias she no longer wanted to marry him. And that she’d quit the pie shop and left a note saying that while she’d appreciated the opportunity, she could no longer work here anymore. She said that she’d tried her hardest, but Christmas River would never feel like home. She was heading back home to the Midwest.
To say that I’d been shocked by the entire thing would have been the understatement of the decade.
Tiana had been my right-hand woman at the pie shop for years now. And the fact that she’d quit the way she had not only surprised me, but it hurt me, too. We’d been more than colleagues – we’d been good friends. Really good friends. Next to Kara, she was probably my best friend.
It confused me, and I spent hours at night thinking about it, trying to figure out why she had done all of this. Was it cold feet? Had the prospect of getting married again been too much for her? Did the
wedding planning overwhelm her to the point of calling the whole thing off? Was that what had caused her to take a wrecking ball to her own life and the life of the man who loved her?
I didn’t know – she wouldn’t answer her phone, and when I stopped by her house, she didn’t answer the door.
But while I’d been hurt by her actions, I knew that my pain was nothing in comparison to how Tobias must have felt. Though he put on a brave face each day, I knew that inside, he must have been suffering something terrible.
As far as I could tell, he hadn’t gotten much more of an explanation than I had. Tiana’s sudden decision to leave was as much of a surprise to him as it was to me.
I walked over to where he was standing in the doorjamb.
“You know, Tobias, if you ever want to talk to somebody or want somebody to lean on… you know you’ve got me, right? I’m here for you.”
He wrung his hands together nervously, unable to meet my eyes. He looked down with a hangdog expression.
“That’s kind of you, Cin,” he said in a quiet voice.
He paused, and I waited for more, but there wasn’t any.
Everything must have been too fresh and too raw to talk about.
I knew a little something about how that went.
I reached over and pat his shoulder.
“Well, the offer doesn’t ever expire,” I said. “So just keep that in mind for later.”
He forced his head up and gave me a weak, but grateful, smile.
I got the feeling it took everything he had to make that little smile happen.
Then he turned, heading out of the kitchen.
“Wait, before you go, Tobias?” I said.
“Yeah, miss? I mean… Cin.”
I smiled at the slip-up. Then I headed to the refrigerator. I opened the door and rifled around until I found the Pumpkin Gingersnap Pie – a special one that I’d made earlier that day and set aside just for him.
Though Tobias seemed to like just about every pie I ever made, I knew that the Pumpkin Gingersnap was his very favorite. It was the flavor he tried when I first invited him into my pie shop nearly two years earlier after seeing him across the street in front of the pharmacy. He’d been homeless then, and looked far too thin for his own good.
