Caskets & Conspiracies

by Nellie K Neves

I tried not to kiss him back. I tried to pull myself from his grasp, but it was too familiar, too perfect to walk away from. Instead I let go. I let the feelings rush up inside of me and crash over my senses. I let myself enjoy the full lips that I had watched only a few hours before. I allowed his strong arms to hold me, cradle me, and remind me of what I had abandoned for so many years.

  The tips of my fingers matched perfectly to the dips and grooves of his biceps as I clutched to his strength to steady me. We fit so well, like the shattered pieces of a vase finally pieced together once more. His touch, his kiss, his everything left me wanting more of him. When he finally pulled back, I nearly fell forward into his arms again.

  He was as shaken as I was. It had been his plan but not the outcome he had anticipated. I had kissed him back. I was sure he had not expected that. My breath was deep, eyes wide and scared by what I had felt while in his arms.

  Finally he spoke.

  “I know that wasn’t right, but I needed you to know what’s waiting for you if you ever decide to stop being so scared.”

  He did not wait for my reply but instead turned for his car, only saying over his shoulder, “I’ll call you Monday and tell you how it went.”

  I did not move as the car backed up or as I watched his taillights turn the corner. My hand touched my lips as if I could recreate the feeling, and I had to wonder if he was right.

  Chapter 17

  The scent of Ryder’s cologne lingered for nearly a full day after the masquerade, but the memory of his kiss was far more distracting. My mind wandered to the moment in time when I truly let go and allowed myself some sense of humanity again. I had been a well-trained machine for ages, and I had forgotten the depth of the emotions that came with physical contact. Like an addict that had been clean for years, I was itching for another fix.

  Thankfully, I had rational thought on my side, and not only did I know that it was an impossibility for me, but I also realized how unfair it was to Ryder to give him false hope in exchange for my physical needs. So I did what I often do best, I focused on everything but the memory of his kiss.

  Stella called later Sunday evening to inform me that Uncle Shane had finally won. She would leave for the bed and breakfast in Canada in the morning.

  “I’m sorry I can’t swing by and say goodbye, Lindy. Your uncle is being rather bull-headed on the subject.”

  “Stella,” I said, “it’s for your own good. If you are here, the Edwards can use you as a pawn to get to Uncle Shane and me. It’s better this way.”

  “But I was just beginning to make headway in the case,” she objected. “I get one nasty message on my cell phone and your uncle goes berserk.”

  My blood chilled. “What are you talking about?” Since the news about Jackie and my false memories, I had not been very eager to see Shane. What had happened in the few days we had been apart?

  “The Edwards live only about a mile from here, so I’ve been taking my friend Rose’s dog for a walk every morning. Rose has been under the weather for a bit. Some sort of virus I suspect. Anyway, I’ve been walking her dog to the end of the lane and back each morning. Twice this week I have seen big black vans parked in front of their house, and I know something is going on.”

  Her suspicious nature coupled with her lack of stealth worried me enough on its own, but there was more.

  “What is this about a message, Stella?”

  Despite the gravity of the situation, her voice was just as chipper as it had always been. “Oh, that silly thing. I got a little too close this last time. Well, I was in the backyard, and I looked into the office window. I saw men packing paperwork into boxes, all with a funny symbol on the exterior. A shredder was running full-time too. The pile of destroyed paper was enormous.”

  I wanted to urge her to hurry up, but there was no helping her. I knew it. She had to give me every little piece of information.

  “I was going to snap a picture, but Bella, Rose’s dog, slipped out of her collar and took off. As I was running pell-mell after that blasted terrier, a couple men spotted me.”

  She was beaming. I could hear it in her voice. “Oh, Lindy, you would have been so proud. I talked my way out of it. I convinced them that I had merely chased the dog into the yard out of necessity. I was as good as a Hollywood film actress.”

  My patience faded in an instant. “Stella, the message. What happened with the message?”

  Her pride melted away as if she were a scolded child. “That night I received a call, a man’s voice that I did not recognize, possibly a little foreign. All he said was, ‘Try it again and you’re dead.’ One little message, and Shane insists that I move away. Totally unreasonable.”

  I was surprised Shane had not packed her up immediately.

  “Not unreasonable, Aunt Stella. It’s a death threat.”

  She scoffed at my concern. “Oh, Lindy, they aren’t going to kill me. People don’t kill old ladies for being nosey. It’s our job.”

  How quickly she had forgotten her visit from Hannah and Joel that had shaken her to the core. “I think this is for the best. Do you need help getting out the door in the morning?”

  She had obviously been hoping for an ally against Uncle Shane and was severely disappointed in my allegiance. “But Lindy, those boxes. If they pack them up, we’ll never find where they’ve moved them. Shane is trying to secure a warrant for the house, but it’ll only be a matter of time before they destroy it all.”

  I tried again. “It’s just not safe for you here.”

  Why did all the people in my life want to throw themselves headlong into danger?

  “But Rose is sick, and who will walk the dog?”

  The name struck a chord in my mind. Why was it so familiar?

  “Stella, your friend Rose, did she fall down recently?”

  “No, no, no. She isn’t like the rest. No fall, but her stomach has been upset for a week now. Horrible bug. She needs me.”

  Rose. I had heard the name while I crouched behind Charles Harrison’s filing cabinet. “Stella, this is important. Did Rose start a new medication?”

  “How should I know?” She balked. “She was going on and on about a new supplement her doctor prescribed, but that’s not the stuff Milton and Ethyl were on.”

  It had to be the same Rose. More importantly, I had to get Stella out of harm’s way before she was next. “You’re going to Canada tomorrow, Stella.”

  Her aggravated groan echoed over the telephone line. “Fine. But at least promise me you’ll check out those boxes, the ones with the symbol that looks like a fancy uppercase A.”

  **********

  Stella had a way of getting my attention when I least expected it. Her final comment had sparked an insatiable interest in my mind. That symbol, the fancy uppercase A had become like a phantom in my life. Just as I thought I had seen the last of it, it popped up again. I had tried searching for it on the Internet, but all I found were downloadable fonts and a few company logos, none that matched my symbol.

  Even as I sat on surveillance, I found myself doodling the symbol and daydreaming about Ryder, my two latest vices. As I ended another uneventful night and headed home, I took a detour down Uncle Shane’s street. Stella’s car was still in the driveway, and the lights were off. I passed her house and looked for the house she had described as Rose’s.

  The lights were on even though it was 3:00 a.m. I wondered if she was okay or if whatever medication Harrison had prescribed was systematically destroying her body. Not wanting to be conspicuous, I drove farther down the lane, lost in a line of thought that was too familiar. Why? Why would a doctor prescribe something that would potentially hurt his patient? I could see the motive for Hannah and Joel. They always managed to get the will changed at the last minute, and the church took complete control of all assets. But how did Dr. Harrison and Dr. Conrad Dexley fit into all of it? Did they work together? It felt like a stretch. There was no way to connect them. At least not yet.

  The Edwards’ home sat at th
e end of the lane, an old traditional home with a gabled sunroom on the far left. Two black vans were parked in the driveway as well as the white Cadillac I figured belonged to the Edwards. The sunroom and the adjacent room were lit. I could see the men inside moving boxes and stacking papers. I clicked off my headlights to remain undetected.

  The front door popped open only seconds later, and three men with boxes strode to the driveway. I parked my car under a tree and peered toward the house. I could clearly see Joel Edwards in the doorway barking orders at the men as they packed their goods in a van. Satisfied with whatever he had yelled, he disappeared inside once more. Only moments later the engine fired up, and the van pulled into the darkness. I ducked beneath my window as they passed, hidden from sight, then fired up my own engine and tailed the van.

  I followed it for ten minutes, letting a few cars slip between us whenever I could without losing sight of the van. I had my suspicions about our destination, but it was not until we pulled onto the road that led to the old Laurel Community Church that I was sure. The boxes were headed for whatever that room was at the back of the church. Content with my discovery, and not wanting to tip them off, I parked my car in a driveway long before we ever got near the church. After waiting five minutes, I backtracked and headed for home with more questions than I had ever imagined.

  **********

  One of the perks of not dating was that I did not have to wait for a guy to call. I had given up that will-he-won’t-he dance years before when I had committed myself to a single life. But when Ryder did not call Monday as he promised, nor Tuesday, I found myself in an obnoxious situation of waiting and wondering. Worst of all, it was not even to be a romantic call. It was purely business, a report on how his time at Pharmaco had been going.

  Wednesday he finally called, and it took all of my self-control not to pick up my phone on the first ring and demand the information he had promised.

  “Hey, Huckleberry,” his deep voice crooned as I answered the phone. “Been waiting around for my call?”

  I forced the smile that spread across my face back into its deep, dark hole. I could not allow that sort of frivolity.

  “Well, you said you would call on Monday. I was worried.”

  “I think that’s the first time you’ve allowed a Huckleberry comment to stand.”

  I had no patience for his flirtations. Mostly because they were working, and my senses were already raw. “Ryder, I need you t—”

  “Aw, Huckleberry,” he interrupted, “I feel like I need you too. My days aren’t complete without you putting my life in danger and committing crimes.” He paused a moment then asked, “Have you been thinking about that kiss?”

  “No,” I replied sharply, though it would not have taken much brilliance to hear the dishonesty in my answer.

  “I can’t seem to forget it. You know, I didn’t think you’d kiss me back, Lindy. Honestly, I thought you might slap me.”

  I had to get some sort of control over the conversation.

  “Ryder, I need to hear about Pharmaco. Have you seen anything?”

  “All right. We don’t have to talk about your feelings,” he cleared his throat, “yet.” I could hear a faint whistle of wind in the phone, and I knew he was in front of his house near the bluff. “You know, you really owe me. I had to move back in with my father for a few days. It’s not like I can commute to Seattle from my place every morning. The job doesn’t pay that well.”

  “Did you learn anything?”

  His sobered voice crushed my anticipation. “No, not yet. But soon. I get the feeling they’re making sure I’m trustworthy. I’ve been doing some really basic stuff the last couple of days, data entry, but the CEO keeps telling me that if I do it well, he has a big project for me.”

  I could not hide my disappointment. “How long until you prove yourself?”

  “I’m trying the best I can, Lindy. Hey, I have tomorrow off. How about we meet for lunch? You can catch me up on everything I’ve missed. I promise I’ll let you pay. That way it’s not a date.”

  Sometimes having a monster inside of you can make you forget good manners, and occasionally that monster will hide the filter that tells you when certain words are a bad idea.

  “Ryder, the kiss was great, but that is all it was. Just a kiss. It was completely chemical. That’s it. We don’t have a relationship. We never will have a relationship. I am willing to work with you on this because, frankly, I have no other choice. But please understand that we will never be anything more than acquaintances.”

  The line went dead. I immediately regretted my words. In desperate moments I said stupid things. He would not pick up when I called him back, and as the service sent me to voice mail, “sorry” was all I could manage. Chances were I was on my own again.

  **********

  I could not keep the boxes from my mind. With Stella safely gone to Canada, I decided to try to get a closer peek. I still had my key to his house from years before and occasionally I abused the privilege and used Uncle Shane’s house as a place to crash or swipe a few eggs or even more occasionally as a home base for slightly illegal activities when I knew he was at work.

  Once I was sure no one was home, I changed into my jogging clothes quickly. I laced up my shoes and slipped my gun into a jogging holster at my waist. It was concealed enough that a casual observer would not see it but still handy enough that I could wield it at a moment’s notice. At my ankle, I slipped a 4-inch dagger into a sheath and then pulled my jogging leggings over it. There was only the outline of a plan in my mind. That was dangerous. But I could not stand by and let information slip through my fingertips. If Ryder could not get what I needed, then I would.

  It was near 10:00 p.m. when I started my jog down the country lane. Rose’s lights were on, though at that time of night, it was not unusual. The next three houses were dark, and my feet echoed against the black emptiness of the night. My cheeks picked up a slight chill from the air, and the fog dampened my clothes. I was careful not to stop in front of the Edwards’ house. Just a cursory glance to see if the lights were on. They were not.

  I jogged the length of the lane once more, back to Uncle Shane’s house and a little bit beyond. Looping back, I watched for any curious glances or movement in the houses that I passed. There was nothing. No one noticed my movement.

  As I approached Rose’s house again, I noticed a car in the driveway. It was a white Cadillac. The Edwards’ car. They were with Rose. My heart went out to her, but in the same breath I formulated a new plan. The best way to save my aunt’s friend was to put away the people that held her life in their hands.

  My pace quickened, and just before the Edwards’ driveway, I veered right and cleared the hedges in one leap. As I hit the ground, I kept my knees bent and my body low. Rationally, I knew it was stupid, but with the henchmen gone and Joel and Hannah busy four doors down, I would regret not making an attempt.

  The electrical box was on the far right of the house, perfectly shielded from any streetlights that might give away my location. I thrived on the adrenaline that surged through my veins. I had learned to use the increase in blood to heighten my abilities and accuracy. Without much grace, I pulled the dagger from my sheath and clipped the wires that connected the two alarms in the house. I considered severing the electricity at the same time, but there had been moments in my past that I had needed electricity and had been glad I left it intact.

  Easing around the back of the house, I pulled my lock-picking kit from my back pocket. Since it was dark, I had to do most of it by feel, and it slowed me down tremendously. Sweat beaded on my forehead, even with the cold air. Finally, I felt the lock give, and it turned easily. I stepped through the door and waited a moment. Nothing. Not a sound. I was alone.

  With my penlight in my mouth, I glanced around the room. The boxes my aunt had mentioned had been replaced by piles and bits of shredded paper. I pulled the center drawer of the desk and shuffled through the contents, but there was nothing more than dis
carded chunks of staples, pens, and a broken ruler. I closed the drawer and checked two more. There were a few notes, ideas for future sermons scribbled by Joel, and a grocery list written in what I suspected was Hannah’s flowing writing. I pulled the upper right drawer, but it would not give. Upon closer examination, I found a lock.

  It was not sophisticated and only took a minute or two to displace the ancient tumbler and slide the drawer open. Inside I hit pay dirt. Eight passports, all with Joel’s picture, only one with the name Joel inside. There were also clippings from newspapers, headlines that all mentioned different scams from all across the country. It was like a trophy collection for a grifter. My con man ex-boyfriend had kept a similar stash of every record of his past successful cons. I stuffed the clippings into one of the many passports and started for the door. I could easily make it back to Uncle Shane’s, make copies, and possibly return them before anyone noticed they were gone. With names to trace, Uncle Shane would have a warrant within days.

  There are very few things that frighten me. Because of a childhood trip to the deserts of Arizona, a rattlesnake rattle is one of them. I also immediately jump at thunder every time. A dentist’s drill also had the tendency to increase my heartbeat. But nothing stops me dead in my tracks like the sound of a cocking gun.

  My hands dropped the stack of evidence as the sound of the hammer pulled back. Within seconds the room lit up and my gun was leveled at my attacker. The security guard that had infiltrated Uncle Shane’s house to threaten Aunt Stella had his own gun leveled in my direction, while his other hand floated near the light switch. One cocky eyebrow lifted slightly, as if to say, “touché.”

  “Drop it,” I hissed through clenched teeth.

  He only chuckled as if it were a ludicrous idea. “I do not think you are in any place to bargain, Miss Johnson. After all, you are a burglar. It is well within my rights to shoot someone who has broken into my employer’s home and is threatening me with a gun.”