by Diane Noble
She glanced at Child, who faced the other direction. She made her decision—she would make a run for it.
Head pounding, she headed into the thick brush, frantically looking for a hiding place. It was so dark once she stepped away from the ambient light of the headlights she could barely make out a footpath. She tried to walk quietly on the loamy soil, but branches scraped and tore at her clothing as she passed. She pushed away thoughts of critters that might be living in those branches as she brushed against them.
Behind her, she heard an exclamation followed by some expletives that grew louder as the men argued about whose fault it was that she had disappeared. So far, no one crashed through the brush in pursuit.
She kept moving, careful to make as little noise as possible. Even if she had a flashlight, she wouldn’t use it. The night seemed even darker than before. Even the flicker of a match would be seen.
It would be only a matter of minutes before they found her. The woods were quiet except for the chirp of crickets and a few frog croaks from a nearby stream. The men’s voices were but a faint murmur in the distance. They were together, probably still near the ambulance.
She pulled the phone out of her pocket again, and using her body as a shield so the men wouldn’t see the glow of the screen, she hit the “on” button. Half a bar showed, which gave her an inkling of hope. She tapped the “emergency” button again, and waited for a callback, a text … anything.
But the phone remained silent.
After a few minutes, the rumble of a vehicle sounded in the distance. The ambulance was on the move.
Hyacinth didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried. She waited for a few more minutes and then made her way back to the clearing, formulating a plan as she went.
It made sense that wherever the two were headed might have some measure of civilization. Maybe she could get a cell phone signal. And at least know her emergency calls were getting through. She didn’t intend to let the crooks get away, but before she caught up with them, she needed to get a 9-1-1 call through for help. She prayed for a house, a cabin, an RV, maybe some nice family here for a weekend. Someone with a phone that worked.
Using the dim light from the lock screen as a flashlight, she made her way to the spot where Lagasse parked earlier. She removed one of the bangles from her wrist, gave it a quick kiss as she pictured little Chloe Grace’s face, and then hooked it on a small Christmas tree-shaped pine near the clearing. Hansel and Gretel made the mistake of leaving an edible trail. Hers would last longer, she hoped.
She let out a deep sigh as she trudged along. Here she was on a deserted country road in the dark, humid air settling on her like an unwelcome damp blanket, waving away the gnats that fussed about her face. And who knew what lurked in the dark forest? The sound of the vehicle had long since disappeared. The noise of frogs and toads seemed louder than before, and eerie. An owl hooted, and another answered from farther away. A cacophony of crickets joined in.
Hyacinth hummed a bit of “His Eye Is on the Sparrow” as she trudged along, trying to ignore her thirst. Her head ached terribly, but that was the least of her worries. She stopped to rest, but being skittish about creepy crawling critters, she decided she’d rather deal with the headache than rest too long in one place.
She walked along in the dark, flashing the lock screen every minute or so to make sure she remained on the dirt road. Her legs were ready to give out when she saw lights through the trees. Hopefully the distant lights were that of a home or cabin. Her feet seemed to take on minds of their own, and she almost flew toward the glow behind the silhouette of pines.
She pictured pleasant folks with a working telephone.
Panting, she stopped to catch her breath. Just yards away stood the cabin, now clearly visible.
Her spirits plummeted.
Outside a small cabin sat two vehicles: the ambulance and a rental truck. From a familiar company, Coast to Coast, the truck sported a picture of a happy family standing in front of Half Dome at Yosemite National Park. The rest of the truck was painted bright orange. She stopped behind the truck just long enough to memorize the license number in her usual way, making up a silly sentence with the letters and numbers. N8724H. Nancy ate 724 hamburgers. She almost giggled. Poor Nancy.
Then she checked for keys. None in either vehicle.
A light glowed inside the cabin, and she heard voices—more than just Lagasse and Child talking. She crept to a window and peered in. A big man in jeans, a navy Windbreaker, and dark beret sat with his back to the window. His angry shouts pierced the night air. He leaned forward, his words a constant stream of criticism.
The wide porch was filled with junk, old tires, stacks of newspaper, a rusted outdoor barbecue, a sofa that had seen better days, a shelf with a rusted hammer and a wrench or two, and a glass lantern that looked one hundred years old. An idea took root in her brain, and she tiptoed over to the lantern. Kerosene gleamed inside, and she caught her breath, thinking of the possibilities. She needed a match, and fast.
Hyacinth crept over to the window again. “Find that woman and make sure she doesn’t see the light of day,” said the man she didn’t know. “She can identify you. We don’t need her causing trouble. Not now. Finish her off. We have no time for such foolishness.”
Lagasse said they would take care of it, but Child didn’t appear as eager. He finally agreed, and then said he had some business to take care of first.
Her heart racing, she backed away from the window and frantically searched for a place to hide. The back of the truck was open, and she ran for it, but before climbing in, she waited, almost afraid to breathe.
Lagasse and Child went around back, and she figured she knew what kind of business they had to take care of. The third man came out of the cabin but turned around before she could get a good look at his face. He walked around the corner of the cabin, and looking out at the forested hills, lit a cigar. Hyacinth crept around the truck so that he was barely a stone’s throw away. She waited while he lit another match and puffed away, apparently still not able to get a good draw.
Okay, girlfriend, it’s now or never. He struck another match and she hurled the lantern at him with both hands. It struck him in the back of the head. Kerosene and match found each other. Exploded. The man dropped like a stone.
She ignored the screaming and stomping and swearing that ensued, leaped into the back of the truck, assessed her best hiding place, and squeezed behind a large crate that she supposed the figurehead had been packed in. Other crates were stacked as close together as a jigsaw puzzle.
By now, the other two men had joined the melee. The smell of smoke grew stronger, and even from her hiding place, she saw the glow of a fast-moving fire. The men yelled that they had to get out of there fast, before someone in town called the fire department. She couldn’t help smiling as someone, probably Child, yanked the truck’s sliding door down, locked it, and hopped in the front cab with the others.
Soon they were on their way back down the bumpy road. Her wrist jingled softly with the bumps, and she realized in her hurry to start the fire she had missed her opportunity to leave another clue for El. But she had more than that to contemplate: How was she going to remain hidden once they stopped to unload?
Chapter Thirteen
Mrs. Littlefield
Just an hour earlier, the university parking lot was swarming with law enforcement personnel. Now it seemed that anyone remaining after the departure of the ambulances and EMTs was at the library, scratching his or her head and trying to figure out what had happened.
Even the sheriff gave the spot where my van had been parked only a perfunctory look. It didn’t matter that shattered glass and what I thought might be blood spatters were left nearby. His attention was locked on getting back to the library. I couldn’t blame him.
I thought about Hyacinth being in danger, and the ache came back to my throat and tig
htened in my chest. I swallowed hard to maintain control. Too much was at stake to let my emotions get the better of me. Best to get back to business. I pulled out my phone and snapped a few shots of the glass. Then I dialed the sheriff’s office and reported the missing van with my employee inside. I figured the sheriff had too much else on his mind to think of reporting it.
I told the dispatcher about the broken glass, hoping to get quicker action with my description of what might have happened.
“Ma’am, with what we’ve got going on tonight, you’ll be lucky to have someone stop by to investigate three weeks from now.”
“Now, listen here,” I said. “This young man may be in danger—”
“So are the more than one hundred victims of food poisoning in area hospitals,” she said. And then she added, “What did you say your name was again?”
I told her.
“So you’re that Elaine Littlefield.”
“The one and only.”
“Thank goodness for that,” the operator said and hung up. I was beginning to feel like Typhoid Mary.
I came through the kitchen doorway to find Katie still waiting for me. She leaned against one of the serving counters, her shoulders sloped wearily, her arms crossed. Her eyes were red.
Her worried gaze met mine. “Are you okay, Mom? This has been a nightmare from start to finish. Those sick people …” She started to cry. “I don’t understand why anyone would do this, would want to hurt people, to hurt you and the company.” She wiped her tears with a soggy tissue. “I’m sorry. I waited for you so I could be strong for you, to help you get through this. But look at me, I’m a mess.”
“The Butler doesn’t matter right now,” I said. “Getting people well is all that matters. Finding out what caused it is more important than who. If it’s poisoning, we need to know what the antidote is. If it’s something else, we’ll deal with that when we find it.”
“So many of them are our friends,” Katie said, her eyes filling again.
“I know.” If I let one tear slip out, I might dissolve into a puddle. I tried to keep my mind off the friends I’d seen carried out of the dining room on stretchers. I tried to keep my mind off one man in particular: Max.
“I think we know why,” I said. “It was a diversion so someone could pull off a robbery. The figurehead is missing.”
As she drew her hand to her mouth, I realized she hadn’t known.
“There’s something else, honey.” I went over to stand beside her and put my arm around her shoulders. “Somehow, during the theft, Hyacinth got involved.”
“What do you mean ‘involved’?”
“Her purse, keys, and phone were on her desk. There was no sign of struggle, but she’s missing.”
Katie put it all together immediately. “So while the deputies and EMTs were busy here at the Encore, the thieves attacked the library. And Cinth.”
“She’ll give them a run for their money.” My mind jumped from Hyacinth to Enrique to Max, and then back again to Hyacinth and the figurehead. And, of course, the poisoning. It was nearly too much to take in. I felt a headache coming on.
“Did Enrique pick up anything with the cameras?” Katie asked. “Maybe he caught something, or someone, having to do with the poisoning.”
She grimaced as I told her about the broken glass I’d found in the parking lot. “I tried to get him on the phone several times. He’s not picking up.”
“So we don’t know the whereabouts of the van or Enrique—or even if he’s injured.” Katie let out a long sigh, and for a moment neither of us spoke. “Mom, I really don’t like to see you involved in something like this. I worry about you. You’re not as young as you used to be.”
I shook my head, too weary and worried to laugh. “Well, that made my day.” Then I nodded. “I’ve always said I won’t get involved with anything that gives me nightmares. If it weren’t for Hyacinth, I would just let law enforcement and the CDC handle this. I can only imagine the nightmares this one will bring on.”
She stepped closer. “You still have nightmares. When Chloe Grace and I stay over, I sometimes hear you.”
I shrugged off her worries. “Just leftovers from childhood.” I laughed. “Monsters in the closet.” We hugged once more and she headed to the door.
“You said you needed to talk with me earlier,” I called after her.
She turned back and gave me small smile. “After what we’ve been through tonight, it’s small potatoes. Our talk can wait.”
Not more than thirty seconds after she closed the door, my cell phone buzzed. I pulled it out of my pocket and tapped the screen to accept the call.
“Mrs. Littlefield?” The woman sounded businesslike and detached.
“Yes?”
“This is Sheriff Doyle’s office. We found a van registered to you. It’s apparently your catering van, has a logo and The Butler Did It on the side. And there’s some sort of electronic equipment in the rear.”
Relief flooded through me … for about a half second. Then I remembered the blood, the shattered glass. “Was there anyone in it?”
“We’ve arrested a young man and charged him with grand theft auto. He was driving erratically, speeding, and endangering the lives of others. Caught him over by Waynesville. He insists he’s your employee, and that he was following somebody on your orders. He’s also being charged with assaulting a police officer, as well as trying to escape.”
“Enrique Fox?”
She sounded surprised. “Well, yes. Do you know him?”
“Yes, I do. He’s an honors student at Southern Highlands and works for me part time.”
She had the audacity to snort. “Even if you can vouch for him, we still have the charges of excessive speed and endangering the lives of others.”
“Tell Enrique I’ll get there as fast as I can.”
“He’s already in the holding cell, ma’am, which is downstairs. So I can’t tell him anything.”
My head was throbbing by the time I ended the call. I glanced at the clock, thinking it surely must be midnight. It was barely nine o’clock. First things first. I needed to get Enrique out of jail before he was deported or something worse. Besides, he might know something about the poisoning or Hyacinth’s disappearance, or the theft if he caught something on camera. I thanked God he was alive. I wished I’d thought to ask if he’d been injured.
I hurried across the parking lot to the Ghia, and as I slid onto the driver’s seat, its scarred and worn Naugahyde seats gave me some element of comfort. The top was still down. Taking a minute to breathe in the fresh air before I started the engine, I looked up at the sky and blinked.
On this inglorious night, the stars were glorious. Brilliant. A sense of calm, even peace, came over me as I stared at the night sky. My little world and its troubles seemed to shrink for just a heartbeat. I found it difficult to let go of the moment, so I closed my eyes and breathed deeply.
I turned the key in the ignition, revved the engine, and headed for the street. Just before pulling out of the drive I stopped, looked up once more, and gave God a smile. I almost believed He winked back at me, but maybe it was just the twinkling stars.
I floated on that feeling of peace until I swung into a parking place next to Sheriff Doyle’s SUV at the back of the courthouse. I took in the dismal entrance to the sheriff’s office, its barred windows and worn concrete steps.
When I reached the small landing at the top of the steps, I tried calling Max’s cell phone. He picked up on the third ring, sounding weak, his voice raspy.
I didn’t realize I’d held my breath while waiting to hear his voice. I let it out slowly as relief flooded through me.
He said he was still in the ER, but on a gurney in the hallway of the crowded Eden’s Bridge Memorial Hospital, along with many of the others who’d gotten sick.
“How do you feel?” Af
ter all that had happened since this morning, a funny little flutter of my heart accompanied the question.
“Better,” he said. “You know how it is after a flu bug; you’re just glad to be alive.” He paused, either because he was too weak to go on, or because there was something he didn’t want to tell me. I worried it was the latter. “Several of us—I don’t know how many exactly—will be released after they get the paperwork done. Probably not till morning at this point. The staff is overwhelmed by the sheer numbers. I’ve heard the CDC is flying in an investigator, but last I heard, he or she hasn’t arrived.”
“You said ‘several.’ What about the others?” I prayed there hadn’t been any more fatalities.
When he sighed, it was so deep he must surely have pulled it up from his socks. “Most have to wait for the paperwork to be completed.” He paused. “But there is one in ICU.”
New, raw guilt swept over me. I had to be the one to tell Max the latest about the university president. “Do you mean Dr. Delancy?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
My eyes filled, and I blinked rapidly, willing them to stay put. “He died, Max. I’m so sorry.”
He fell quiet, and I wondered how close the two had been. Probably quite close, considering Max had been a professor at Southern Highlands for nearly as long as Delancy had been president.
“I’m so sorry,” I said again, softly.
I’d tried to keep it at bay, but the truth was, The Butler Did It was involved. Not just in the event, but in Dr. Delancy’s death. I hadn’t kept proper watch over our foods and beverages. If I had, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe the president would still be alive.
