by Peggy Staggs
“You’re a doctor? Why didn’t I know? I thought you were a scientists. Ralph was real proud of you. He always called you his brilliant girl. Never said you were a doctor. Just like him not to say.” The older woman eyed me. “I’ve got the rhumitiz something fierce in my knee. Thrown from a horse one too many times.” She pulled up the hem of her dress to reveal a swollen joint. “Makes it hard to get up the steps.”
“I’m not that kind of doctor.”
“Don’t matter. Vet’s all the same. I need something for the pain.”
“I’m not a vet.” This was spiraling into a black hole of free medical advice and patching up hamsters.
“Are you one of those fake doctors, a PhD.-er?” Jane eyed me with suspicion.
“Jane, let this nice lady get used to you before you go asking for medical advice.” Howard turned to me. “See you at the meeting.”
When Jane and I were alone, I asked, “Would you show me around?” It would give me something to think about. Something other than my dad.
“I can. It would be easier with some meds for my knees.” Her sigh told me she thought I’d let her down. “I can manage.” She gave another heavy sigh.
Jane happily told me the story of how Dad bought the side table in the dining room when Grandma Patterson died. The furniture in the Blue Room came from the old Johnson place. The porch set came from the hotel on Main Street when it closed. The rooms were decorated down to the last detail. Jane had kept them pristine. All they lacked were guests.
Finally, we came to a door at the end of the upstairs hall. A new padlock hung from an ancient hasp. “What’s in there?” I asked.
“The attic. I don’t know why, but it’s been locked for a while. Probably to keep the ghost in. Nothing but a bunch of old stuff up there anyway.” Jane turned toward the main staircase. “I’ll see if I can scare us up a key.”
“Thanks,” I said as I followed her down the steps. My main goal right now was my dad. The ghosts could stay locked in the attic. “Ghosts?”
She stopped. “There are all kinds of stories. I’ve even seen some... things lately. Lights up there.” She pointed to the attic. “Must be ghosts.”
Okay, ghosts in the attic.
“When Ralph bought this place, he put his heart and soul into getting it all fixed up. There’s no sense in why he closed it up. I told him so, too.” She started down the steps. “My Nana said someone was coming to finish the B&B. They’d save the town. Guess that’s you.”
No pressure there. “Your Nana?”
“Crazy old woman. She says she Wiccan.” She shook her head. “She’s never been the same since she got lost in a snowstorm five years ago.”
What in the world had I walked into? Dad was missing and the B&B was being looked after by a woman who not only believed in ghosts, but her grandmother was a witch. I hadn’t seen this side of Jane in my visits. She’d always come across as rational. “I would like to get in the attic sometime. There’s no rush.” The new lock was odd. It seemed important to see what was up there. Not today.
“It’s been bothering me too.” Jane nodded. “Locked rooms are a problem.”
Back in the dining room, I pointed to the two broken window panes and asked, “Did the Sheriff find out what happened here?”
“No. He sent Kenny over. Deputy Kenny said it was vandals. I told him it wasn’t. I told him it wasn’t. The day after Ralph disappeared, someone broke them. I heard a diesel truck pull up, then a crash. Kenny’s never been very bright. So, I called Jack. He came out and searched around. Kenny had driven all over. Idiot child. Jack said he’d keep an eye out and to call him personal, if anything happened.”
Interesting. “You were here and you didn’t see anything?”
“You can’t see much from behind the old stables.” She shook her head. “It wasn’t vandals.” A frown gathered on her face as she studied the missing panes. “They’d have broke more windows, or sprayed some graffiti around.” She shook her head. ”Not vandals.”
It made sense. “Are there many diesel trucks around?”
“Every rancher has one. I figured I knew who it was. I went to the boys’ mama who were most likely in on it. She told me they were at their grandma’s for the week.” We walked back into the kitchen. “I think it might be better if it were vandals. If it wasn’t, that means it was something more than I care to think about.”
“Thanks for the tour. And thanks for all you’ve done around here. I know Dad appreciates it, even if he doesn’t say so.” Talking to the Sheriff was going to have to wait until morning.
“When did you eat last? You’re all skin and bone.”
“I am hungry.” I glanced around the kitchen. “Is there some paper?”
“Right there in the basket by the door to the porch. Pens in there, too.”
“Thanks.” I found it, something to make a list on.
Tomorrow:
Sheriff’s office
Town meeting
Get windows replaced
Find key to attic
“All I’ve got is some soup and bread. There’s plenty here for two. That be okay?”
“Sounds great. I’ve got to go unhitch the U-Haul. I’ll be right back. It won’t take long.”
Jane had pulled out a couple of bowls and plates. The soup was wonderful. “What brand is this?”
“The stuff from a can isn’t good for you. Too much salt and too much fat. Homemade is always better.”
When dinner was done, we cleaned up.
It was only nine, still I was exhausted. I yawned. I’d pushed across country in record time. All I could think about was a shower, sleep and finding my father. “Which room should I stay in?”
I wasn’t going to wait around for some sheriff in a small town to figure this out. He was my father and I was going to find him, but I couldn’t find anything if I was dead on my feet.
“I fixed up a room four for you, it’s the nicest one. Top of the stairs on the far end.”
“Thanks. Will you be here in the morning?”
“Always am. I get here at five to bake.” She flipped on the porch light. “I leave lights on in here for the cats. Good night.” She let the door swing shut on her last word.
I thought about pointing out that cats are nocturnal and could see in the dark. Maybe tomorrow when I was more alert.
When I went out to unhitch the U-Haul I brought in my overnight case. It was all I could manage tonight. While I was out there, I decided having a gun in this big old place wasn’t an altogether lousy idea. I went up to my room.
The shower was nice and hot, the bed amazingly comfortable. As a result of both, I was asleep in no time.
»§«
I started awake. My sleep addled brain searched for the reason. I rolled over, the clock read ten minutes past midnight. But what had brought me out of a dead sleep? I listened in the darkness. The silence of the huge building was broken by low voices coming from downstairs.
I rechecked the time. It couldn’t possibly be Jane. She’d said she wouldn’t be back until five. I slipped out of bed. Maybe it was my dad. Had he come back?
Gun in one hand, cell in the other, I hurried to the top of the steps. If it was him, he’d understand. If it wasn’t, I’d be prepared.
I saw two figures cross the entry hall and go into the office. In the dim light, I couldn’t see either of them clearly. I slipped downstairs. The light from the kitchen pooled only a few feet into the dining room. I’d be shrouded in darkness.
The two strangers were rifling through the desk in the sitting room.
A board squeaked as I stepped back from the door.
Chapter Four
I didn’t wait to see if they were going to investigate the noise. I scrambled back upstairs and dialed 911.
“Spirit Springs Police, what’s your emergency?”
“There’s a break-in at the House at Road’s End.
“Are you somewhere safe?” the dispatcher asked.
“I’m
upstairs and they’re right below me,” I whispered. “So, no.”
“A car has been dispatched. Stay where you are.”
“No. They’re still downstairs.” My voice sounded hoarse.
“Stay where you are,” she repeated.
The voices grew louder. “They’re coming upstairs.” The only plus I could see was that they didn’t know I was here. I had the element of surprise. I just didn’t know what to do with it.
“It has to be up there,” one of them said.
“They’re coming upstairs,” I repeated.
“Do you have some place safe to hide?” Her words were rapid and hushed.
“No. The only place I can go is in the bathroom. Then I’ll be trapped.” I felt helpless. “What if they know where my dad is?”
“Do not—”
If I didn’t do something, they’d get away and I wouldn’t know anything more about my dad.
I pressed end. With no pockets in my nightgown, I tossed the phone on the bed.
The two men who’d been in the office were now halfway up the stairs. “It’s got to be here somewhere,” one of them said as they headed my way.
“Yeah, well what if it isn’t? Then—”
I heard the front door open.
How many of these guys were there?
The two on the steps stopped.
“Hey,” one of the men shouted. “It’s him.”
The door slammed.
Both men ran down the steps and out the front door.
I didn’t hesitate.
At the bottom of the steps, I stopped. There were no red and blue lights outside. I should wait.
I couldn’t. I ran for the front door.
As I reached for the latch, I saw muzzle flashes as two shots tore into the night.
Another shot.
Then silence.
I hit the front door full force.
One of the men was searching the man on the ground, while the other held a flashlight.
“Hurry up, man. Someone had to hear all that.”
“Stop. Hands up.” I yelled as I stood on the porch.
The man with the flashlight turned and pointed it at me.
I took cover behind the arched opening at the top of the steps.
Flashlight man fired.
I crouched down, aimed right at the flashlight and fired. Twice.
The light fell as someone cried out in pain.
Two silhouettes ran across the front yard.
Seconds later, the headlights of a truck raked across the dead grass and the man on the ground. It sped down the road and out of sight.
I moved to the bottom of the porch steps. I’d never been shot at before. Every part of me began to shake. And I’d never shot at a person before. I shook even harder.
I had to help the person on the ground.
I ran back in the house.
How long did it take the Sheriff to get here?
I couldn’t believe I’d left the front door unlocked.
Was everything open?
I grabbed a couple of towels from the kitchen.
I couldn’t worry about the doors now.
Do what you know.
Outside, I could see the light from the flashlight the shooter had dropped. I grabbed it from the ground.
I shined the beam on the fallen person.
“Oh, God. Dad!”
I knelt beside him. He was barely conscious. I pressed the towels to his wounds. Both shots had hit him in the chest. Blood was pumping out in time with his heartbeat.
He was dying. My chest tightened with every breath I took until I couldn’t breathe.
“Stay with me.” I scanned the B&B. No one came out. My cell phone was on the bed upstairs. “Hang on. Help is on the way.”
Where was help? For hell’s sake, the town wasn’t that big. I could have run here from the Sheriff’s office in the time since I’d called.
“Kiddo. About time you got here.” His smile was weak. “Too dangerous. Leave.”
“No.” The towel was completely soaked with blood. Warm blood. Dad’s blood. I tried to swallow. I tried to force logic into the insanity of what had just happened.
“Dad, I love you.” My eyes blurred with tears. “Stay with me.” I couldn’t go for more supplies. I could only pray help got here in time, all the while knowing it wouldn’t. I glared at the empty driveway. “Where are they?”
“In the attic.”
“Don’t talk. Save your strength.”
“This is too big.” He gasped. “Trust Jack. Tell him—” His words were little more than wheezes.
Silence.
“Dad? Dad!” His blood had stopped gushing. There was no light in his cobalt blue eyes. He gazed at something far beyond me. He was gone. My father was gone. My heart felt as if it would stop. I gasped.
The lights of a truck scraped across the area.
Were they back?
I stood and raised my gun. “Stop. I have a gun and I’ll shoot.”
“Drop your weapon,” came the reply.
Not a chance. “You drop yours.” Great, a standoff. I tried to shrug off the trauma that threatened to overwhelm me.
The man stood tall and straight. With both hands on a gun pointed directly at me.
The headlights from the truck shown in my eyes. He could see me clearly.
I wouldn’t retreat. “Put the gun down,” I demanded.
“Police, put your weapon on the ground. Now.”
The now left no room for appeal. I didn’t lower my gun. “Show me your badge.” I tried to match his confidence level.
“Badge is in the truck.”
“Put the gun down. I will shoot.” I struggled to control my shaking hands. Too much was happening too fast. I’d never been shot at. I’d never pointed my gun at a human. I’d never shot at one. I’d never had my father bleed to death in my arms. “Do it.” Even I could hear the tears in my voice.
“What’s going on?” Jane appeared at the top of the steps. She moved the light from her flashlight around. “I wish you two wouldn’t shoot each other. Nothin’ll ever get solved that way.”
“Who is he?” I asked.
“Sheriff Jack Trace. Doctor Ensley Markus,” Jane said as she came down the steps. “Now, unless you plan on using those, put them away.”
I should have recognized his voice. We’d talked on the phone enough times. Everyday. Sometimes twice a day. I let my .38 sag to my side. He put his weapon back in his holster. I hardened my heart against that tear. The tear you never cry. The one that haunts you on dark lonely nights and lives in your heart forever. “My dad’s dead.”
The Sheriff walked over and took my gun. He knelt down next to the man on the ground. I could hear him swearing. “What the hell happened here?” A split second later he stood and faced me. “Was this an accident?”
“God. No.” I shivered. I was soaked to the skin with blood. Dad’s blood. I folded my arms around me in an effort to ward off the cold. “Two men broke in.” I pointed at the B&B. “Dad came in the front door. They chased him and shot him. I...I...there wasn’t anything I could do. I tried.” I looked up at the man in front of me. “He died in my arms. I couldn’t save him. I...” That was it, sobs stole the rest of my words.
Jane hurried over to me. “Ralph? No. This isn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to be back and things were going to be like they were.” She stood beside me staring at the man on the ground. “Crazy old man. What was he thinking?” She began to cry, too.
As I drove across country, I’d considered the possibility this had already happened. I thought I’d been prepared. I thought I could handle anything. I thought it would turn out so different.
To think he’d been only a few feet away when.... That I couldn’t handle.
Every bitter tear I shed was for all the days I hadn’t spent with him. All the times I was going to miss with him. And the hole that would forever be in my heart. “I should have stopped this,” I said. “I was right in
side. It’s all my fault. I should—”
“No.” Sheriff’s voice was soft with remorse. “It was my job.”
I stood there bloody, cold and alone.
“I’m sorry.” He turned and walked to his truck.
Jane wrapped her arms around me. She was crying hard. “Old fool,” she said. “He knew he shouldn’t go chasing off and he did it anyway. Told him not to.” Her words came between sobs.
We stood there and cried until the Sheriff guided us inside. He left us for a few minutes. When he returned, he wrapped a blanket around my shoulders and knelt in front of me. “I know this is a bad time and you want to get the...cleaned up, but I need you to tell me what happened.”
I focused tear-filled eyes on him. His strong jaw and even features held the assurance that comes with being in charge. “Something, I think it was the sound of those men breaking in, woke me up. I called 911. The men started up the stairs, but Dad opened the front door. When they saw him they ran after him. As I got to the front door, I heard the gunfire. Two shots, loud shots. Then a smaller caliber shot.” I wiped my nose. “I...I rushed outside—”
“You shouldn’t have done that.” His smile was sad.
“I know, but it was my dad and I thought...” I shook my head. “I don’t know what I thought. I ran out and saw the man who was alone fall. It’s so dark here.” Over the Sheriff’s shoulder the large windows were black. “I yelled at them and they shot at me. I knew they were the bad guys because there were two of them. And because they shot at me.” I didn’t want him to think I’d run out gun blazing, firing at anything that moved. “I aimed for the flashlight, where the shots came from. I’m pretty sure I hit one of them because he dropped the flashlight.”
“You should always shoot the bad guys in the house.” He pulled several tissues from the box and handed them to me. The ones I had were shredded and useless. Exactly how I felt. “What happened next?” he asked. He held my free hand.
“I ran down the steps and found my dad laying in the dirt.” The tears flooded down my face. “I couldn’t save him.” I grabbed the Sheriff’s arm. “There wasn’t anything I could do.” I grabbed his other arm. “He died in my arms.” I needed human contact. I needed someone to hold me and tell me everything would be okay. I needed that more than anything. “And there was nothing I could do.” I pulled the Sheriff closer. “I...I” I buried my face in his shoulder.