When they stopped I looked back. The spotlights on the sides of the tunnel made it impossible to see more than a silhouette. The person crouched as I looked around, their back to me. It looked as if they were tying their shoe laces.
I started walking a little more briskly. Was I spooked by the bloody history that surrounded the tunnel? Perhaps. Or was it something in the attitude of the mysterious person behind me? Neither of us spoke, but we were alone in the tunnel. I picked up my pace anxious to get to the light at the end of the tunnel.
As I walked faster, so did the person behind me. I shivered and tried to calm myself. Once more I glanced behind me but I could see no more than I had before. Should I stop, confront this phantom, put my mind to rest?
I was being ridiculous.
It was broad daylight outside, but not in the tunnel.
Just another one hundred feet, and I’d be back in the sunshine. The footsteps increased to a run. I stood to the side to let the person pass. Instead the person shoved me hard against the stone wall, lost their own balance and recovered with a hand to the wall in front of me as they dashed past. “Get the hell out of here,” they growled at me.
I could see nothing but a hunched figure running away and the flash of what appeared to be a Civil War uniform as they disappeared into the light.
Chapter Eighteen
I tried to catch my breath. My attacker was gone. He—or she—had managed to shove me hard into the jagged edge of the stone wall. A sharp pain in my right shoulder shot down my arm.
Gingerly, I moved my shoulder, then my elbow and finally my wrist. I felt along my humerus, my elbow, my ulna, my radius. Everything appeared to be intact and already the pain had lessened.
I wasn’t about to see if my attacker was waiting for me at the other end of the tunnel. Turning around I walked quickly back the way I’d come.
In the sunlight I saw I was bleeding, but it looked worse than it was. My shirt was ripped, and my forearm where I braced myself was scraped. I used my sleeve to put pressure on the only abrasion still oozing blood.
I was shaking and took deep breaths to calm myself.
It wasn’t the physical injury that unnerved me. It was the attack. Someone saw me enter the tunnel and came after me—not to kill me, thank God, but to scare me off. Or perhaps to injure me enough, so I’d have to leave.
Why would a killer who worked so methodically to alter a cannon, act in such a reckless way? Anyone might have seen him. Was it simply rage at my unexpected presence? I thought about Phil—Josh described him as losing it at his father’s party. Ryan had a hair-trigger temper, but why would he consider me any kind of threat? Why was I a threat to anyone?
An ominous thought entered my mind. Perhaps the killer wasn’t done. Perhaps whoever attacked me was afraid I might interrupt their plans to kill again.
The voice didn’t sound like Phil’s, but it could have been anyone’s—man or woman. It was low, more of a grunt than anything else. I also couldn’t tell anything about the attacker’s height or build. The person bent over as they ran away. And the uniform, was it Confederate? All I saw was a silhouette of a jacket and a hat.
I tried to hide among the trees to the left of the tunnel entrance. The tunnel led away from the battlefield, and to return the person might have to come back through. My goal was to see him or her but remain hidden. Unfortunately, an officer spotted me first.
“You, miss, what are you doing there?” He approached me. “Are you all right?”
He must have seen my torn and bloody shirt.
“It’s nothing. Someone pushed me as I was walking through the tunnel.”
“An accident? Why didn’t they stay to help you?”
“I guess it was a hit and run, and I don’t think it was an accident. The person told me to get the hell out of here or something close to that.”
“Can you describe him?”
“I’m not even sure it was a him,” I said. “I thought it was someone in uniform but all I could see was his back running away from me.”
He looked at my arm. “You need to go to the first aid tent.”
“I’m a doctor,” I said, “and I’m fine. I need to stay here and see if he or she comes back. Is there any other way to get to the battlefield?
“It would take a while.” The officer took off his hat and shaded his face. “It sounds as if you think you’d recognize the person.”
I kept my eyes on the tunnel entrance and told the officer about what happened a few miles away in Resaca.
“We all heard about it. I’m a Whitfield County Deputy Sheriff, but that’s right next door to Gordon. It’s why I’m here. Why we’re all here. Look, that arm is still bleeding. You need to get it taken care of.”
“Please,” I said. “Let me call Mason Garrett. He’s a detective with the Atlanta Police Department, and he’s here, somewhere.”
The officer nodded and I called Mason on my cell. He said he’d be there in five minutes.
Before he arrived, I saw Sally Cutter emerge from the tunnel. She noticed me and came running over. “What happened to you, Ditie? You’ve got blood all over you.”
“I’m fine. Just tripped in the tunnel. What were you doing? I thought you’d be on the field going over drills.”
Sally wore a Confederate uniform but no hat. “I’m infantry today, and that doesn’t take much preparation. I needed to stretch my legs, so I took a long walk. You walk straight into the countryside through the tunnel.”
She could have been the person I saw, but she didn’t seem the least bit defensive. Sally wasn’t wedded to the truth, but could she be that good a liar?
“Did you see anyone else on your walk?” I asked.
“No, why?”
That remark didn’t sound quite as innocent.
When Mason arrived, he examined my arm and looked upset. “I’m taking you to the first aid tent. Now.”
We walked a few feet away from Sally, and I told him what had happened. Sally stood next to the Deputy Sheriff, apparently unable to decide if she should go or stay.
I promised to go to the tent if Mason would talk to Sally and stand guard at the tunnel to see who else might appear.
As I walked toward the row of sutlers’ tents I went over what happened. Was it possible it had nothing to do with the murder? Someone who was a little too exuberant in his role and took me for a Yankee? I’d heard one of the women dressed in period clothing tell Confederate soldiers to kill some Federals—all in keeping with the day.
No. This wasn’t part of the reenactment. This attack was personal—to distract me or get me out of the way—certainly not to kill me and certainly not in fun. I walked to the first aid tent and let a nurse clean me up. She suggested x-rays but backed off when I told her I was a doctor and showed her all the moving parts in my arm were still moving.
I got back to Mason fifteen minutes later.
He stood alone at the entrance to the tunnel. “I questioned Sally and sent the officer on. Sally claims she went through that tunnel half an hour before you did, and she says she went alone. Show me where it happened.”
He pulled out a pocket flashlight and held me by my good arm.
I took him to the spot near the end of the tunnel. He shined his light along the surface of the wall and found a small piece of red wool stuck in a rock crevice. He held it up to the light of his flashlight. “Could be from a kepi or a forage cap.”
I gave him a blank look.
“The kepi is a lower, stiffer cap with a disc like top. The forage cap is a softer cap, more material, and used for work like foraging in the old days.”
He asked me to describe what I’d seen.
“I think it looked stiffer, the way you describe the kepi, but I can’t be sure.”
When I finished, he said, “Some Georgian Confederate kepis were made of red wool and gol
d braid—signified artillery officers, lieutenants I think. Of course, Federals wore kepis, too, some of them with red trim.”
He studied the small piece of torn wool. “I wonder if it ripped off when the person stumbled against the wall.”
“I have no idea. It was on their head when they left the tunnel. How could you possibly know about Georgia Confederate hats, Mason?”
“I’m a Southerner, Ditie.”
“You grew up in Atlanta, that’s hardly the Deep South. You don’t even have an accent.”
“My dad’s father was from rural Georgia and his mother was from Tennessee. I have relatives who fought on both sides of the war. We know these things even if we don’t go around discussing them the way Phil Brockton does.”
There was a lot about Mason I still didn’t know, but standing in a dark tunnel was not the time or place to learn more. We headed to the light.
It was getting close to the start of the battle.
“Is there another way back to the battlefield?” I asked.
“Sure,” Mason said. “It would take longer, but you could swing back along the road. I’ll hang onto this piece of material and look for anyone with a torn hat.”
“Mason, I’m worried the murderer reacted to my being here because he or she has unfinished business.”
“I had the same thought, and I’ll alert the officers here. In the meantime I want you out of danger. Someone was obviously unhappy to see you here.”
He left me with Lurleen and demanded I stay put. My arm was aching, and I didn’t feel like going anywhere. Lurleen jumped in like a mother hen. “You sit, and I’ll bring you some iced tea. It was my idea to come here, and now I’ve put you in danger.”
“Lurleen, you had nothing to do with this. Someone doesn’t like my looking into things. They didn’t try to seriously hurt me—just push me in hopes I’d leave. Have you seen my classmates on the field during the last hour?”
Lurleen squinched up her hazel eyes and thought. “I saw the Confederate Cavalry going through their paces half an hour ago. I think I saw Harper’s white stallion—it’s a magnificent horse—but the person on it didn’t look like Harper. Phil and Danny came by for iced tea at some point.”
“So Danny was always with Phil?” I asked.
Lurleen gave me a less-than-happy look. “I’m sorry, sweetie. They weren’t always together. Danny was still on break about the time you were attacked. He and I sat behind the tent eating roasted corn.
“That means Phil could have been the one who shoved me.”
Did I really think that was possible? Wouldn’t I have recognized him even if I didn’t see or hear him distinctly?
“What about Ryan, Frank and Andy?” I asked.
“Danny might have seen more than I did. Wait a sec. I did see Ryan, now that you mention it, just before Danny and I took our lunch break. He was looking for Harper. Then he said he needed to talk to you. How could I have forgotten that? I said you were exploring the historic sites and asked if there was a message. He said no. Then he walked off toward the tunnel. Ditie, do you think it was Ryan who pushed you?”
“It could have been any of them.” I stood up. “Don’t urge me to sit down because I won’t take your advice. Do you know where Ryan might be?”
“He’s a Federal today. Danny says we all must use that term for Yankees. It’s more accurate for the time. Ryan was carrying a gun, so I guess he’s infantry,” Lurleen said. “Please, Ditie, don’t go!”
“No one will do anything to me unless I’m alone somewhere in the dark.” I walked off before Lurleen could stop me without making a scene.
I asked directions to the Federal infantry camp from a few men standing near the sutlers’ tents. ‘Across the field and up a path.’ There I found Ryan pacing back and forth in front of a tent. Other men were milling around.
He jumped when I called his name. He asked if I was all right.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Your arm. The bandage.”
“I’m fine, just scraped it on a rock. Lurleen said you were looking for me.”
“It was nothing.” Ryan looked upset. “It can keep.”
“I’m here now, so what did you want to tell me?”
“More what I wanted to ask. Harper came by minutes ago and tried to reassure me. We’re fine really, it’s just…”
“What, Ryan? It’s just what?’
“Harper said she was with you last night, and I wanted to know—I wanted to know if that was true.”
“I’m sorry, Ryan. I haven’t spent any time with Harper.”
“I knew it! I knew it! And I know who she was with. Ditie, I think Harper’s going to leave me.”
“You think there’s another man?”
“I know there is.”
“Who?”
“I thought it was Carl Thompson,” Ryan said. “Then when he died I found out who it really was. I think Harper is going to leave me for Phil.”
I told Ryan to sit down on a camp stool for a minute. I crouched down beside him and told him to take some deep breaths. Then I asked him to tell me what he knew for sure and what he suspected.
“I was sure it was Carl. He’s always been hanging around Harper, even in med school. She kept telling me she didn’t want anything to do with him, but I could see her feelings changed when he joined Dr. Brockton’s big Buckhead practice. Suddenly, it was all about how smart Carl was, how we’d all underestimated him.”
“You can’t take that to mean she was having an affair with him.”
“Believe me, I know the signs. I’ve been through this before.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve had to set more than one man straight.”
“Like Phil at my party?”
“Yes, like Phil. I’m sorry about that, but I can’t lose Harper.”
I put a hand on Ryan’s arm. “You can’t control her every move.”
He shook off my hand, picked up his rifle, and started cleaning it. Then he put it down and seemed close to tears. “Have you ever loved anyone, Ditie? Really loved them?”
“Yes,” I said slowly.
“I don’t believe it. If you had, you’d know how I feel. I can’t live without her. I don’t want to live if she’s not a part of my life, and there are all these people who want to take her away from me.”
“The problem is between you and Harper,” I said. “You need a good therapist, maybe a couple’s counselor, to work this out.”
For a moment, Ryan seemed to hear what I was saying.
“I’m willing to go. I’m willing to do anything, but Harper won’t see anyone. She says everything is fine—it’s all my imagination.”
“If she won’t go, then see someone on your own.”
“You mean, like it’s all in my head? Harper calls it my paranoia, but it’s not paranoia when it’s true.” He picked up his gun and continued cleaning it. “I won’t see someone and let them convince me I’m making the whole thing up.”
He glared at me. “You love to fix things, Ditie, but you can’t fix this. You shouldn’t be here. I’m going to make sure that anyone who shows too much interest in Harper backs off. Like I did with Carl.”
“Ryan, do you hear what you’re saying?”
“I wanted Carl dead, and now he is. I can’t say I’m sorry about that.” He stared at me with the look of a tortured animal. “You want to believe I’m a murderer? Go ahead. I don’t care what you think.”
Ryan stood, grabbed his hat and gun and walked away from me. I tried to imagine him in silhouette. He could have been the person who shoved me.
He left behind a red Confederate hat with a piece of fabric missing. I picked it up intending to take it to Mason, but Sally caught me from behind.
“My hat,” she exclaimed. “You found it. I thought I must have lef
t it here when I was talking to Ryan.”
Chapter Nineteen
“That’s your hat?”
“Yes. Actually, it’s Phil’s. He let me borrow it.”
I showed her the part with the missing patch.
“Oh my gosh, how did that get torn? Phil will have a fit,” Sally said. “It’s an actual hat from the Civil War. Maybe it was like that when he gave it to me.”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “See, the tear looks fresh.”
She examined it and then she inhaled deeply. “I don’t have time to worry about it now. I have to get with my group. She grabbed the hat and started to walk away.
“When did you borrow the hat?” I asked.
“I don’t remember. Does it matter?”
“When were you talking to Ryan?”
Sally stopped and turned to me. “Why all the questions? Is this still about who killed Carl? Let the police do their work. Stop interfering. Ryan’s as bad as you are. He was peppering me with questions about Harper. I told him I hadn’t seen much of her lately, but maybe you had. He took off like a rocket, I guess to find you. I’ve got to go. If I’m not there when the action starts, I’m not in it.”
She walked off, hat in hand. I looked at my watch. We were half an hour away from the start of the battle. Maybe I had time to track down Frank and Andy, but I had no idea where they were. I’d find them after the reenactment. I headed back to Lurleen’s.
“Boy, am I glad to see you,” Lurleen said. “Mason was furious that I let you leave.”
She pulled out her cell phone. “Mason, she’s here with me, all in one piece.”
He showed up moments later. “You’re going to sit this one out with me.”
I told him about my conversation with Ryan and about finding the hat.
Into the Frying Pan Page 15