by Becki Willis
“Getting old?” Bernie goaded him.
“Happens when a man works for a living,” Brash replied evenly.
“Work, hell! You played for a living. Wish I got paid for playing a football game, and for telling other folks how to do it. You always did have it too easy.”
Brash made no comment. He was listening for clues on their location. Judging from the near silence, he guessed they were well outside of town. He heard no cars, no televisions, no telltale rustle of life. Then again, it was nighttime. Probably around midnight, he would imagine. A sense of timing was another thing he lost during their wandering drive.
“You just going to stand there?” Doug asked. “Get inside the house.”
“Didn’t know we were at a house,” Brash said. “Can’t see a thing, remember?”
It was a lie. Lucky for him, Dickey was either too high or too inept to tie a proper blindfold. Most likely both, Brash imagined, but all the better for him. The cloth band over his eyes wasn’t only slightly crooked, but the fool had put the thickest part on his forehead, allowing sensation of light to filter through the thinner material covering his eyes. He could actually see his feet, but when Bernie pushed him forward and told him to walk, he pretended to stumble over a clot of dirt.
“Armadillo holes,” Bernie snickered. “Don’t break an ankle.”
“Where’s Dickey?” Doug barked, noticing they were short a man.
“He fell asleep not long after the sharp ‘S’ curve on Sawyer Road,” Brash said. He wanted to rattle them, let them know he was paying attention. He heard Doug curse and stomp his way around the car, where he jerked the backdoor open.
From the sounds of it, Dickey fell out in an undignified heap.
The bumbling trio led their captives across a yard littered with holes, weeds, and assorted trash. Brash got a whiff of an offensive odor. A familiar buzzing noise confirmed his suspicions, particularly loud in the still night. They were at the Fowler shack, now minus the barking dog.
One of the men went first and opened the door. No one bothered to warn their captives of steps, but before Madison stumbled into them, Brash cautioned her.
“Can you see out of that blindfold?” Bernie asked suspiciously.
“No, I don’t need to.” Brash denied. “Y’all stomp around like horses. A deaf man could hear your boots on those wooden steps.”
He didn’t know if Bernie believed him or not. Just in case, he lifted his foot too early and stumbled forward. Being banged in the shin was worth earning their laughter and, he hoped, their trust.
“We’ll tie them to those chairs,” Bernie decided. “Dickey, put two of them back to back.” After a series of bumps and scrapes as Dickey tried to follow directions, Bernie cursed in exasperation. “Not that way, you fool! Put the backs together.”
Best Brash could tell, the fourth Santa hadn’t followed them to the house. He heard no engine behind them when they first pulled up, no rustle of footsteps in the background, no sighs of frustration over his inept cohorts. Of the four of them, the unidentified man was clearly the smartest of them all, which made him the most dangerous.
“What happened to your rifle-toting buddy?” Brash asked. He allowed them to push him down into one of the chairs, noting the way the legs groaned beneath his weight. With any luck, the strain would be too much and he could use the busted frame to saw away the binds they were sure to tie around them.
“Never you mind about him,” Doug advised. “You have enough worries of your own.”
“So, what’s the plan? What are you going to do with us?”
“Maybe we’ll just leave you two lovebirds here a few days,” Bernie jeered. “Think of this as your little love nest, just the two of you. Plenty of time for bonding, while the rest of us celebrate Christmas.”
“Don’t forget that big poker game you have tomorrow night.”
At mention of the game, Brash felt the men stiffen around them.
“Hey,” Dickey whispered loudly, “how’s he know about that?”
“I don’t know,” Bernie snarled.
“Does he know it’s going to be out at the Gonzales’ old barn?”
“He does now, you fool.”
“What’s he going to do about it? He’ll be tied up here, with his old lady. At least he don’t know we’re moving a big shipment of drugs at the same time. Been cooking them right here under his nose, in the pharmacy basement. Best place in the world to hide illegal drugs, right in among the—umph! Hey! Why’d ya punch me in the gut?”
“Shut. Up.”
“You don’t have to be so testy,” Dickey whined.
“Just tie them up. Pull it nice and tight.”
Brash pulled slightly away from the back of the chair and puffed his chest, just enough to allow wiggle room after the ropes were tied, but not enough to call attention to the fact. Not that Dickey would ever notice, but the Havlicek brothers weren’t quite as stupid as their third cousin was. Not as much inbreeding on their branch of the family tree, he supposed. He still cringed every time he recalled the story behind Dickey Fowler’s lineage.
After circling around them three times with a rope, Dickey stood back and bragged about his handiwork.
“Doug, check the knots,” Bernie instructed his brother. “Make sure the idiot did it right.”
“Hey, I’m tired of you calling me an idiot.”
“I’m tired of you acting like one.”
Brash bulked up again, as Doug tugged on the rope and made certain the knot would hold. “Not bad,” he acknowledged.
“This ain’t my first rodeo, you know,” the younger man crowed. “You ‘member that tobacco shop over in Riverton, the one that got robbed twice, two times in a row? With the clerks tied up in the backroom? That was yours truly. And—”
“And I told you. Shut. Up. He’s right there, listening to everything you say!”
“And just for the record,” Brash broke in dryly, “twice means two times. You don’t have to be redundant.”
“Well, thank you for that there English lesson, mister po-lice man,” Dickey said in an exaggerated drawl. “And no need to use fancy words we don’t understand.”
“Can we go home now?” Doug wanted to know. “I promised my old lady I’d help her put up the tree tonight. She’s already going to be pissed, without me staying out all night.”
“It’s not even one o’clock yet.”
“Too late to put up a stupid Christmas tree, though.”
“Hey,” Dickey said, his voice brightening as he came up with an original thought. “Go in the back room yonder and look for something nice to give her. I found some real nice earrings under that schoolteacher’s tree. Your old lady might like those.”
Brash chided himself for not searching the house more thoroughly the first time he was here. Disgusted by the sheer filth of the place, and angry about the pilfered electricity, he hadn’t paid enough attention to the covered piles and the trash bags in either of the side rooms. The loot from the Christmas Crimes was stashed here in this dump, and he had missed it. He owned that mistake.
Doug stomped his way to the other room, complaining about the lack of light.
“Yeah, I lost electricity the other day,” Dickey said. “Been meaning to hook it back up, but I’m hardly out here no more.”
“This house needs a bulldozer put to it,” Bernie said.
“Hey, this is my inheritance.” Dickey sounded truly offended by the comment.
Bernie snorted. He gave his brother a few moments to bang around in the other room, then called out to him. “Are you done with your shopping yet? Because we need to get out of here. We have trucks to load.”
“That’s why the boss man went on ahead. And I’m going home after this.” Doug tromped closer, his voice taking on a satisfied ring. “Patty will flip out over these earrings. And she’s always wanted one of these fuzzy robes. Just her size, too.”
“Extra jumbo?” Dickey snickered.
“Full bodied,” Doug
corrected, sharp distinction in his voice. “I like to know I’m holding a woman in my arms, not a twig.”
Dickey bristled. “Are you calling my woman a twig? Because that sounds like an insult to me.”
“Would you two shut up?” Bernie barked.
Ignoring him, the other two men continued to argue, but their voices faded as they stomped from the room. The door slammed behind them, leaving the old house eerily silent. When Brash heard the engine start, he heaved a sigh of relief.
“Are you okay, sweetheart? You haven’t said a word.”
“I didn’t want to call attention to myself,” she admitted. “And I was afraid I might say the wrong thing. What was all that about, back at the car? What was that vibration I felt under the seat?”
“I turned on my police radio. I was trying to give them as much information as possible, so they would know who had us and what we were up against.”
“If only they had gotten there a few minutes earlier, we wouldn’t be in this fix! I take it we’re at Dickey Fowler’s house?” Her voice revealed her disgust.
“We’re at his dump, all right. And apparently, so is all the Christmas loot.”
“At least our hands are tied in front of us this time.” The single other time she had been tied to a chair, she had been much more uncomfortable, her arms bound behind her. “Can you untie the rope? And what in the devil’s name is this smell? This rope reeks.”
“I think he used it to tie his dog outside, if that tells you anything.”
“Ugh.” He felt the shiver in her shoulders. “But I didn’t hear a dog, except in the far distance.”
“He left it tied with no food. I called it in to animal welfare the first time I was here.”
“I wish they had taken this rope with them,” Madison bemoaned. “I’m about to gag from the smell.”
“Breathe through your mouth as much as you can,” Brash suggested. “I have a little wiggle room. I think I can get out of it.” He tugged, but nothing happened, prompting him to add, “Eventually.”
A moment ticked by, before Madison announced, “I know who the big boss is.”
“Barry Redmond.”
“Yes! What was your tip off?”
“It just all makes sense now. And even though he kept to the shadows and I never got a good look at his face, I saw his hands. His nails were manicured. Barry is the only man around here I know of who pampers his hands like that. And the fancy gun was a good tip off.”
“I thought I recognized his cologne. He always wears way too much, like he swims in the expensive stuff. And when I mentioned his name, Bernie got too nervous. It was a dead giveaway.”
“So, you were right all along, sweetheart. They are all tied in this together. Molly, Tom Haskell, Barry. It’s hard to know if Danielle is involved, but the others definitely are.”
“Why else would Tom Haskell be hanging around the jewelry store, if she wasn’t involved?”
“I have a theory about that.”
He told her the story Charlie had relayed to him, about the girl Tom Haskell hooked up with from The Sisters and took to Colorado. “Your dad thought her name may have been named Mary, but he wasn’t sure. I think it could have been Molly,” Brash said. “The timeline is right. We know that Molly left town with some guy she met and came back pregnant. Now Tom gets out of prison, and one of the first places he heads to is the mall, where he hangs out with Danielle, who just happens to be Molly’s daughter.”
“You think Tom Haskell is her father?”
“Makes sense, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, I guess it does,” Madison agreed, sounding somewhat dazed.
Brash continued to tug against the ropes. “No thanks to Doug’s help, Dickey tied these ropes a lot better than he tied my blindfold. Mine is all but falling off. What about yours?”
“Tangled quite snuggly in my hair, I’m afraid. Can’t see a thing.”
“Can you reach my phone? I put it in your right boot leg.”
“What did you throw at Dickey?”
“My burner phone, the one I use undercover.”
That gave her pause. “You work undercover? When?”
“I’m a special investigator for the county, remember? Sometimes I go undercover.”
“Like half the state of Texas doesn’t recognize you!”
“Can’t this conversation wait?” he asked impatiently. “Can you reach the phone, or not?”
She tried to bend far enough to reach her leg, but the ropes were too tight. “No, but I can reach mine.”
“I thought yours was wedged in my dashboard.”
“That was just the case. I took it out of its cover when I spilled coffee all over it. I slipped my phone into my front pocket when no one was watching.”
“That’s my girl,” Brash chuckled.
“Sadly enough, this isn’t my first rodeo, either.” Her voice was resigned.
“You gotta admit, moving back to The Sisters has added adventure to your life.”
“It almost makes me miss the good old days of the staid and boring life I once led.”
He sounded concerned. “Really?’
“I said almost.”
While both worked against the bindings of their hands—Brash to loosen the ropes and Maddy to retrieve the phone in her pocket—they fell silent. A few grunts punctuated the dark stillness of the room. Their frustration mounted with each failed attempt, but neither gave up. Failure wasn’t an option.
After a while, Madison paused her efforts long enough to rest her strained muscles. She pulled in a few deep breaths of air, reeking rope and all.
“Brash? There’s something I want to tell you.”
He didn’t respond immediately, concentrating on freeing his hands. If he could break the duct tape on his wrists, he might be able to twist one arm behind him and untie the knot on the rope… Grunting with the effort, he finally said, “What is it, sweetheart?”
“First, I want to say I love you. Truly and deeply. More than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life. Other than my children, of course, but that’s different.”
“Of course. And I love you the same way, Maddy.” His voice was deep and rich, filled with sincerity as he said, “This is forever love.”
He felt her pull in a deep breath of air. Tilting her head back to touch his, she spoke in the darkness. “You’ve asked me before about my marriage to Gray, but I wasn’t ready to tell you the whole story. I am now.”
Brash interrupted her before she could go any further. “Hold on. I’m more than willing to listen to whatever you have to say, but only if you would have told me this anyway. Not because we’re tied up here in an abandoned house and you think we won’t make it out.” His voice turned to steel. “Because we will make it out, sweetheart. My team is out searching for us. They’ve called in reinforcements by now, and they’re combing the countryside for us, as well as for those sorry souls who brought us here. So, this isn’t the end. Far from it.” His voice softened again. “But if you still want to talk, I want to listen.”
“I do. I should have told you this a long time ago, but I’ve been trying so hard to keep my kids from knowing the sordid details of those last couple of years. I know they probably suspect, but thinking something and knowing it are two different things. All they have left of their father are their memories, and I just don’t want to destroy those for them.”
“You’re a wonderful mother, Maddy.” His voice was rich with emotion.
“I try. And I tried to be a good wife. And I was, at first, I think. Just like Gray started out as a good husband. We had some good years together. Happy years. But then… things started to change. Life became so complicated…”
Madison released a shaky breath, carefully tiptoeing into memories of the past.
“It started when Gray branched off on his own, starting up an investment company. His parents helped fund it, of course. I’ve already told you how they pushed us to buy a bigger house in a better neighborhood. Never mind if
we couldn’t afford it. It was the same with the business. If we looked successful, we would be successful. To them, it was all about appearances, and they hounded that mentality into Gray’s mind. We had to have an extravagant office in Dallas’ most exclusive office building, had to entertain clients at the best restaurants in the city. It was all about show. All smoke and mirrors.
“I worried about the expenses, but Gray said I should leave the details to him. He claimed I had enough to worry over, what with the kids’ schedules and entertaining friends and clients several times a week. I worked with him at the office, but it was hard to juggle it all. Annette insisted we needed to hire help. I refused to hire a nanny, but I finally caved on hiring a receptionist. And just like that, Gwendolyn stepped into our lives.”
It still hurt to say her name, but Madison swallowed hard and powered through.
“I have to admit, at first I thought she was a godsend. Having help at the office made life so much easier. I even let her plan our social calendar, something I had little interest in doing. It was great. All I had to do was find a sitter, put on a pretty dress, and show up with a smile. But then one night, Bethani was running a fever, and I couldn’t go with Gray to a business dinner. Would I mind terribly if he took Gwendolyn in my stead, he asked.”
She pulled in another deep breath and slowly released it. “That’s how it started. That’s how Gwendolyn began to take over. And I let her, because it made my life easier. And Gray let her, because… well, because he always took the easy way out. Why didn’t she join us at the Honeycutt dinner, he suggested. She was so good with clients. Young and attractive, and such a good conversationalist. Maybe she should go with us to the Chicago convention, he said. And if I’d rather do some shopping or go sightseeing, rather than sitting in on the meeting with the Tokyo clients, well, Gwendolyn spoke limited Japanese. She could fill in for me.
“That became the new mantra in our house. I should go to Blake’s baseball game. Gwendolyn would fill in for me at the business dinner.” Madison acted out the parts, surprising herself when her words came out more animated than emotional. “Bethani had a recital? No problem. Gray would just ask Gwendolyn to take my place at the cocktail party. He knew how much I hated those things, after all, and I’d have a much better time at the recital. And don’t wait up on him tomorrow night. He and Gwendolyn had to go over a presentation. And about next weekend. We would have to cancel that hiking trip with the Petersons. What? The kids would be crushed? Well, why didn’t I go on ahead, and he would stay behind and work on the project. Gwendolyn could fill in for me, and we’d all come out winners in the end.”
