by Patricia Fry
Savannah shook her head. “Absolutely not. You go ahead. We’ll probably have a glass of wine together before dinner. Sound good?”
Overhearing this, Michael said, “Or would you rather have a Jell-O shooter?”
Gladys blushed. “My, how rumors travel. I thought that we had a pact—what happens in L.A. stays in L.A.”
“Not with this family,” Savannah said, laughing.
“Did I hear you making plans to go out this evening?” Michael asked catching up to Savannah who was carrying out a bag of trash.
“Yeah, I was just coming to tell you about it when Mom got home. We think we know where that guy’s evidence or whatever is and Craig wants to help us retrieve it and turn it over to him or the authorities or someone.”
“Where?” he asked.
“An old farmhouse outside the city a ways.”
“You’re going out there tonight?”
She nodded. “Yes, Alicia’s eager to get this behind her and since we’re leaving tomorrow...”
“Then I’m going with you,” Michael blurted.
“Oh, Michael, Craig will be with us. He believes that the place is abandoned. We’ll be okay. We just need to find that package so that guy will leave Alicia alone.”
“Well he could be watching her. And who knows what he’s capable of. Craig might need help. I’m going with you.”
She put her hand on his arm and smiled. “Okay. That’s okay. Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For caring.”
“Always, Savannah. Always.”
She kissed him, then said, “We might actually be facing a structural situation—you know, where we need to cut into a wall or something. Maybe you can bring some tools.”
He nodded. “And you’re taking your cat? Did I hear you say on the phone something about Rags?”
“Yes,” she said. “That’s Craig’s idea.”
“What time?”
“After dinner. I’d say around six thirty.”
****
“I appreciate you following up on this, Detective,” Alicia said, after climbing into the front passenger seat of his car. She looked back at Savannah and acknowledged Rags, saying, “Hi, Officer Rags. Good to see you’re on duty.” Nodding toward Michael, she asked, “You’re going camping tomorrow, aren’t you?”
The couple nodded.
“And Savannah took the kids horseback riding all day,” Craig said.
“Wow! You must be exhausted. I hope you get a chance to rest in the mountains.”
“That’ll be my number-one priority,” Savannah said, “at least for the first day or two.” She cringed. “I just hope we can get our hands on that package tonight and finally turn it over to whoever should have it.”
Alicia nodded. “Yes, either that Ronald guy or the authorities.” She asked, “So Detective, you believe this man is Keith Mullen’s brother?”
Craig nodded.
“And he’s been in prison for a long time,” Savannah said. “Probably since the day you saw him twenty-nine or thirty years ago.” She put her hand on Craig’s shoulder. “Do you know what he was convicted of?”
He nodded. “Yeah, murder.”
Alicia gasped.
“But he claims he didn’t do it,” Craig said.
“Sure he does,” Michael muttered.
Craig glanced at Michael in the rearview mirror and explained, “This was one convoluted case. Evidently, Mullen pleaded guilty but then tried to change his plea saying he only did that because the real murderer swore he’d get him off. But that didn’t happen. The other guy had an airtight alibi and he walked away scot-free while Ronald rotted in jail. He was left to stand trial alone, getting a prison sentence of nearly thirty years.” He added, “And during that time, he likely built up a whole lot of resentment. According to what I read, Ronald vowed to get his buddy no matter how long it took.”
“So whatever it was that he left with my father could be the evidence he needs to convict the other guy?” Alicia asked.
“What about statute of limitations?” Savannah asked.
“There is no such statute where murder’s concerned,” Alicia said.
Craig glanced at her and asked, “So are you a law student?”
“My sister is. I’m studying to become a law enforcement officer.”
“Well, that’s ambitious,” Craig said. “We need ambitious and dedicated men and women in this field.”
After riding in silence for a distance, Michael asked, “Craig, do you know what it is we’re looking for?”
Alicia spoke up. “It’s a bag, like heavy plastic or maybe canvas and it has handles.”
“Like a briefcase?” Savannah asked.
“Kind of.”
“What’s inside?” Michael asked.
“A gun,” Craig said.
Alicia gasped. “A gun? How do you know?”
“I went back through the court documents and found that tidbit,” Craig said.
After a period of silence, Michael asked, “Do you know how this dude figures that a gun he admits was in his possession would prove his innocence?”
“Good question,” Craig said.
“Do you have an answer?” Savannah asked.
“Yeah, I’d be interested in hearing that, too,” Alicia said.
“I think it’s a long shot for Ronald,” Craig glanced at Alicia, “but that shouldn’t concern you. All you want to do is get him off your back and that means getting that weapon back to him. What happens or doesn’t happen once Ronald has his hands on the gun won’t affect you.” Craig chuckled. “However, since he has a record, he can’t legally own or possess a gun, so he’d better darn well turn it over to his attorney or some other authority pronto quick.”
When no one spoke, Craig continued, “The story I got is that when Ronald realized that his friend—a fairly high-profile criminal, I might add, had turned on him, he started screaming about this gun—how his friend evidently told him that if he’d ditch the gun, he’d get Ronald off with a slap on the wrist. Instead, at least in Ronald’s mind, this guy dug Ronald’s grave and managed to bury him for nearly thirty years. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a hit out on Ronald by now. Someone must know that he can lead authorities to what he believes is evidence—that gun he left in the care of your dad.”
“Holy moly,” Michael muttered. “What have you girls gotten yourselves mixed up in this time?” He asked, “So, Craig, I sense that this Ronald isn’t all that pure himself.”
Craig shook his head. “From what I gather, Ronald Mullen is a bad guy. He’s ruthless. His history is one thing that got him convicted. It was easy for the jury to believe that he could commit murder. In fact, it’s very possible that he’s gotten away with murder before. I’m not sure, it’s just my sense. So yeah, we need to get our hands on that gun if that’s what it takes to keep Alicia safe.”
Chapter Five
“I’ve noticed this place over the years,” Michael said as they approached the old farmhouse where Alicia remembered living as a child. “You say it’s vacant?”
Craig nodded. “According to my sources, yes.” He pulled into the rutted dirt driveway and sighed. “Yeah, I’ve been out here before. Never for anything good.” He glanced around and asked Alicia, “Do you have any idea where that weapon might be hidden?”
She shook her head. “I’ve been thinking about that. It seems to me there are quite a few places to hide something like that.”
“And keep it hidden for decades?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Possibly.”
“So you don’t think old man Barston still lives here?” Savannah asked.
“I doubt it. The place looks abandoned and we haven’t had a call out here in a long time.”
“Where do we start, Craig?” Michael asked.
“Well, the way Savannah and I usually do it is to let the cat sort of wander around until he alerts us to something of interest.”
Michael chuckled. “Somethin
g of interest to you or to him?”
“Sometimes it’s the same,” Craig explained. He then asked, “Savannah, got his long leash on him?”
She nodded.
He instructed, “Okay, just let him go where he wants to go. Michael and I will light the area for you.” Craig turned to Alicia. “Young lady, you let us know if you remember anything that might be helpful, will you?”
“Sure,” she said, pulling her heavy jacket around herself.
Craig pointed. “The cat wants to go in that direction. What’s out there, Alicia? Do you remember?”
“I’m not sure. There was a tree house. It might have been out there. If it were daytime, I think I’d have a better perspective.” She stopped. “Wait, I think the tree was out that way. The forbidden area was over there. Hey, that’s where Rags wants to go—the forbidden area.”
“Forbidden?” Savannah questioned. “Why is it forbidden, do you know?”
Alicia shrugged. “I was eight.”
As the group, following Rags, walked farther east, Alicia slowed her pace. She clasped her hands against her chest. “Wait!” she said breathlessly.
“What?” Craig asked. “Do you remember something?”
“A well. I think it was a well. I wasn’t allowed out here at all.” She gulped. “One day a dog came into the yard and I followed it. He saw a squirrel and took off running, so I ran after him.” She began to breathe hard. “Oh, my gosh, I don’t know why I remember and why it has affected me like this. But...”
“What happened, Alicia?” Savannah asked gently. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t know.” When she saw that the others were looking at her, she said, “My dad caught up to me just as it happened.”
“What happened?” Craig asked.
“The dog chased the squirrel right over the edge of the well and it disappeared. The dog stopped short, but that poor little squirrel must have gone over the edge into the well. I continued to run in that direction when Dad grabbed me and took me back to the house. As I recall, a fence went up right after that. I never came out here again. No!” she called. “Don’t let Rags near there.”
“That seems to be his destination don’t you think so, Savannah?” Craig asked. “He’s headed right for that well.”
“Better shorten up the leash, hon,” Michael suggested.
Savannah stopped and walked her hands along the leash until she had a better grip on it. “He’s sure pulling,” she said. “He definitely has something in mind.”
“Yup, it’s the well he’s interested in,” Craig said as they drew near. He walked to the rim and shined his light down into it.
“It’s deep,” Michael said.
“I guess we’d better bring out some extension ladders in daylight and check it out,” Craig said. “In the meantime, let’s see if he’s interested in anything above ground—where we can actually investigate.”
Before they could move away from the well, however, a shot rang out and a man bellowed, “Get off this property, you lousy trespassers. What’re you doing, coming out here smoking your dope? Git!”
Before Craig could react, Savannah let out a shrill scream.
“What happened?” Michael asked, pushing her down on the ground and shielding her body. “Are you hit?” he asked, frantically.
“No. It’s Rags. Oh, Michael, he jerked the leash out of my hands. I think he was shot. Where is he? Rags!” she called.
Meanwhile, Craig drew his weapon and crouched, pulling Alicia down with him. “Lay down,” he hissed. “Everyone stay down.” He hollered, “I’m Detective Craig Sledge here on an investigation! Drop your shotgun now!”
“How do I know that?” the man shouted.
Craig muttered, “Good God, who is this idiot?” He called out, “Drop your weapon!” He then made a call for backup. “Active shooter,” he said into his phone and he gave the address. He asked the others, “Is anyone hurt?”
“Just Rags,” Savannah said, her voice thick with anguish.
Craig glanced around for the cat. “Where is he?”
“I think he fell in. I think he was shot,” Savannah said, her voice cracking.
“Good God,” Craig moaned. He said into the phone, “We’re all okay, the deputy cat might have been injured. We don’t know yet. Yes, Rags.” He said to the others, “They’ll be here right away.”
“Are you going to leave this property or do I have to shoot you down?” The unseen gunman bellowed.
“If you don’t drop that gun,” Craig barked, “you’re liable to go out of here feet first. Backup is on the way. Drop it, I tell you.” He said to the others, “Everyone stay down.” He then crawled to the edge of the well and shined the light down into it. He immediately turned it off, rolled over and moaned, “Oh, no. Oh, no.”
“Craig, is he?” Savannah started.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Let’s hope for the best. Right now we need to worry about staying out of that knucklehead’s line of fire.” Craig felt his phone vibrate and he answered it quietly. “He’s behind the house possibly on or near the back porch. I’m west of that. Tell me when you’re in position and I’ll rush him from this side.” Within seconds, he whispered, “moving in now.”
The only sound that could be heard was Savannah’s muffled sobs, until someone shouted, “Drop it! Drop it, now!” And then another shot rang out.
“Is there anyone else on this property?” another officer asked. He pressed, “In the house, in the yard?”
“Just those trespassers, out there,” the shooter bellowed. “They come here to smoke their pot.”
“We are not trespassers,” Craig insisted. “I identified myself as a detective and you continued to shoot.”
“You think I’m going to believe a bunch of potheads?” the man responded.
“Sheesh,” Craig said as he returned to where the others waited. He announced, “It appears that Harry Barston still thinks he lives here. He evidently spends his evenings making sure there are no pot parties on the property. Well, tonight he’s going to the hospital with a minor gunshot wound and to sober up.” He walked swiftly to the edge of the well and shined his light into the depths. “He’s not moving, but it looks like sand down there. There’s a good possibility…”
“How are we going to get him out?” Savannah screeched.
Michael pointed. “There are ladder steps down the side. They’re kind of worn, but I can probably get down there and bring him up. Hold the light,” Michael said, draping one leg then the other over the side of the well.
“Let’s put you in a harness, Michael…just in case,” Craig suggested. “Here’s a piece of rope. We can make one…”
“I’ll be okay,” he said. “If I slip, the fire department should be able to get me out.”
“Michael,” Savannah called as he began working his way down the shallow ladder steps.
“What?” he asked, continuing to look down at his feet.
“Be careful,” she whispered. She kneeled next to the lip of the well, and Alicia walked up and sat next to her.
“He moved!” Savannah shouted. “I saw Rags move!”
“Are you sure?” Craig asked. “Maybe you saw the light moving across his body?”
“No, he moved,” Alicia confirmed. “I saw him, too.
When Michael lost his footing on one of the ladder steps and almost fell, the women gasped.
“Take ’her easy,” Craig said.
“I’m, okay,” Michael reported. “Almost there.”
“He’s alive,” Savannah squealed when she saw Michael running his hand over Rags’s body. “He lifted his head.”
After a several seconds, Michael called out, “Got the wind knocked out of him. Looks like he might have a sprain. Other than that, I think the old boy’s okay. I’d like to take him in for X-rays to be sure there are no internal injuries, but I don’t see evidence of any. You’re right Craig, the sand gave him a soft landing. And one of his claws is gone, so it looks
like he might have snagged it on his way down. That could have softened his landing.” He gently ran his hand over Rags’s head. “You’re going to be okay, buddy.” He started to pick up the cat.
“Wait!” Alicia called. “Check around for that gun. It could be down there.”
With renewed energy, Craig agreed. “Yeah, Michael, see what you can find down there, would you?”
“Here’s a rock.” Michael chuckled. “Did you toss rocks down here when you lived here?”
Alicia shook her head. “Not me.”
“Hey,” he said, digging something out from under a layer of sand, “here’s someone’s shoe.” He looked up at the others. “Gads, I hope it doesn’t belong to a body.” After a few seconds, he said, “Wait. I feel something—like a towel. This had better not be a dead pet dropped down here for burial.” When he pulled a canvas bag from the sand, Michael looked up briefly into the lights and said, “Feels like a gun in here to me.”
“That’s it!” Alicia squealed. “That’s the bag I saw under hypnosis.”
“Great!” Craig cheered. “There are handles on that pouch. This rope here looks in pretty good shape. I’ll drop it down. Tie it to the bag, will you? Maybe we can bring Rags up that way, too.”
After thinking about it, Michael said, “Naw. I’d better keep my hands on him as best I can—at least one hand.”
“That sounds dangerous, Michael,” Savannah said. “The ladder is so steep and some of those steps are rotted. She took off her jacket. Here, wrap him in this and tie it around him with the rope. We can pull him up that way.” She faced Craig. “You say the rope’s in good shape?”
“Yeah. It looks okay.” Craig dropped the jacket, instructing, “Send the satchel up and get Rags secured in the jacket.”
Minutes later, Michael called from the bottom of the well, “I have Rags secure, but I’m carrying him up. Hold the rope just in case there’s a mishap on the way.” Once Rags was safe in Savannah’s arms, he said, “As I suspected, it looks like a minor sprain. I think he’s okay.”
“My poor boy,” Savannah cooed. “So he wasn’t shot?” she asked, checking him all over.
Michael shook his head. “The shot must have just scared him and made him lose his balance.”
