by Amy Vansant
Charlotte drove as fast as she dared until she spotted what looked like a small car speeding towards her. She’d already seen two false alarms, but this car looked to be the right color, and as it grew closer, she spotted three heads.
At least she hasn’t thrown the girls out yet.
As the car sped by her in the opposite direction, Lyndsey turned her head.
She saw me.
Good.
Charlotte hit the brakes and did a U-turn, stomping on the gas to try and catch up.
Lyndsey increased her speed until Charlotte found herself gripping the wheel with both hands, fighting to keep her lumbering juggernaut on the road.
She glimpsed at her speedometer.
Ninety-seven miles per hour.
Charlotte swallowed. She was close enough that Lyndsey could see she was being followed. That’s really all she needed to do, make sure the woman knew anything she tried would be witnessed, but she feared both for her own safety and that of all three girls in the Miata. She second-guessed her plan.
Should I let her go? Am I forcing her to wreck the car by following her?
Now she knew how police felt during high-speed chases.
And why was Lyndsey going so fast? Was she trying to lose her? Or had that been her plan all along? An innocent, high-speed joy ride? Maybe she had taken Charlotte’s appearance as a challenge.
Lyndsey came up behind another car on the one-lane road, her brake lights flashing red as she was forced to slow down. Charlotte soon caught up and followed at a safe distance. Twice she saw the twins twist to look at her. Who knew what Lyndsey was telling them about her pursuit?
The moment Rt. 14 dumped onto a two-lane highway, Lyndsey hit the gas and passed the Toyota in front of her. Payne raised both hands over her head as if she was on a roller coaster.
They drove like that, one after the other close to one hundred miles an hour, until Charlotte knew where they were heading.
Back to the farm.
The Miata slowed to take the turn on to the Miller’s driveway and then peeled off again. Charlotte did the same. She wasn’t sure how she was going to explain why she’d been racing around behind them, but she couldn’t stop now. No matter what she came up with, she had to admit Lyndsey was now officially tipped off to their suspicions.
At the end of the driveway, Lyndsey stomped her brakes and the Miata fishtailed, sliding across the stone drive until it came to rest against the railing post leading up the front steps. Charlotte heard the twins scream. Lyndsey was out of the car in a heartbeat, running around the side of the house towards the barn.
She never glanced back at Charlotte.
Uh oh. That can’t be good.
Charlotte pulled up and scrambled out of her own car.
“Are you two okay?”
“She’s crazy!” screamed Gemma as she spilled out the Miata.
Payne jumped out, her eyes wild. “That was nuts.”
“Why were you chasing us?” asked Gemma, looking wobbly on her feet.
Charlotte moved to open the hatch of the Volvo and found her gun tucked in the spare tire well. For once she’d remembered to put it where it might be useful to her. “You two stay out of sight. I don’t know what she’s up to.”
“Are you going to shoot her?” asked Payne, her expression telegraphing excitement much more than concern.
“That’s not the plan.”
Mina appeared on the porch, gaping at the Miata squeezed against the front of the house.
“You’ve found them. What’s going on?”
Charlotte motioned to Mina. “Go in the house. Take them inside, lock the doors and hide. Call nine-one-one.”
“And tell them what?”
“Lyndsey’s gone loco,” said Payne, already mounting the stairs.
There was a gunshot and Charlotte felt something whiz by her head. A hole magically appeared in the trunk of the Miata behind her.
Holy—
The twins screamed and ran up the steps into Mina’s open arms as the woman herded them inside.
The path of the bullet lay between Charlotte and the porch. She didn’t feel great about crossing that path to follow the others into the house, so instead she spun and dove behind the Volvo, squatting, her back against the bumper. Lyndsey could hit her tank of a car with an RPG missile and she’d still have a fighting chance.
“Lyndsey!” she called at the top of her lungs. “It doesn’t have to be like this!”
“I’m not going to prison!” Lyndsey screamed back. “I’m not letting those bitches take my whole life!”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. Again with the bitches. Lyndsey was not a member of the twins’ fan club. Charlotte was beginning to think what Mina had taken as a form of sibling rivalry was really Lyndsey’s hate-fueled loathing for the twins.
Charlotte peeked around the corner of her car. Lyndsey stood by the corner of the riding ring’s fence. Seeing Charlotte, she raised her gun and Charlotte ducked back as another bullet flew by and disappeared somewhere on the opposite side of the yard, barely missing the barn Jeep.
Yikes. This woman means business.
Charlotte peeked again and saw Lyndsey walking towards her.
Crap.
“I have a gun, too. Don’t make me use it!” screamed Charlotte.
Lyndsey kept walking.
Damn. I’m going to have to prove it.
Charlotte leaned to the side and shot fifty feet above Lyndsey’s head. There wasn’t a chance in a billion she’d hit her, but it looked as if she meant business and it proved she was armed.
Lyndsey whirled and ran back to the fence to hide behind the corner posts.
Charlotte pressed her back against her bumper and stared at the Jeep.
All the cars are over here.
Lyndsey needed to escape, but couldn’t get to a vehicle without coming into range of Charlotte’s weapon. That was good in the sense Lyndsey couldn’t get far, but bad for her crouching among the vehicles. There was no real way for Charlotte to escape to safety.
“It isn’t your fault. We know it isn’t your fault,” she called. If she could get the woman talking, maybe she could kill enough time for the police to arrive.
Charlotte waited for a response but none came. Taking a deep breath, she peeked again.
Lyndsey was gone.
Charlotte heard screams.
She’s in the house.
Standing, she ran to the front door to find it locked. Inside, she could hear Lyndsey barking commands.
Here we go.
Charlotte shot at the lock and kicked the door open before twirling to throw her back against the outer wall.
No bullets flew by.
She heard Lyndsey’s voice again. Judging by the sound, she was in the kitchen.
Charlotte crept into the house, hugging the wall. No sooner was she in than the twins appeared, backing from the kitchen into the great hall with their hands in the air.
Like synchronized swimmers, the twins ducked away and slammed their backs against the wall of the great hall, one on each side of the archway leading into the kitchen.
Charlotte marveled that the girls had made the same move simultaneously, without sharing a word.
I guess that twin ESP really does work.
Charlotte scurried up beside Payne, who’d spun towards her side of the room.
“What’s going on?” she whispered.
“She’s got Mina. She’s holding a gun to her head. She looks crazy.”
Payne’s usual mask of bravado had slipped, her face pale.
Charlotte pointed to Gemma to get her attention and then pointed to the exit. “You two go outside and drive off in whatever car you can. I’ll keep her distracted.”
“The Miata?” asked Payne.
“Whatever has keys. Sure. Or my car.”
Payne’s lip curled. “That thing?”
Charlotte frowned.
Her life’s in danger and she’s still a little brat.
S
omething small and dark moved at Charlotte’s feet and she and Payne both yelped. She pointed her gun downward.
One of the puppies had trotted into the hall. It looked up at her, mouth open, pink tongue flashing, teeth showing as if it was smiling. Charlotte pointed her gun back at the ceiling.
“What’s it doing here?” she asked.
“Mina was letting them run,” said Payne.
The puppy pounced on Payne’s sneaker and clamped its tiny teeth on her laces, growling like an angry munchkin.
Charlotte leaned forward and motioned to Gemma to go around the back of the center staircase and head for the front door. Gemma nodded and jogged around the center stair, using it as a wall between her and Lyndsey’s line of vision through the kitchen exit.
“Go, take him,” said Charlotte to Payne, motioning to the puppy.
Payne scooped up the Yorkie and ran to her sister at the front door, where she conveyed Charlotte’s instructions. Charlotte heard the word Miata twice and felt a little pang of disappointment that Payne didn’t see the Volvo was clearly the safer vehicle to take with a potential sniper at their back.
“Are you sure you can drive the Miata?” hissed Charlotte.
Payne nodded. “We drive it around every time Lyndsey goes anywhere.”
Charlotte held up a finger. “Let me distract her so she doesn’t shoot you through the window.”
The girls grimaced, gazes darting to the Miata. Driving seemed to appear less fun to them.
“Lyndsey, I’m here,” called Charlotte.
“Stay back or I’ll kill her.”
Charlotte peered around the corner to see Lyndsey with her gun pressed against Mina’s head. She had her other arm wrapped around her throat so that Mina’s head tucked into the crook of her elbow.
Charlotte motioned with her left hand for the twins to go and stepped into the archway, her gun at her side. Another puppy sprang from nowhere and landed on her flip-flop to gnaw on the strap between her toes.
“Lyndsey, you wouldn’t hurt Mina. Ow!”
The dog caught a bit of her flesh in its tiny chompers.
She shook her foot to dislodge the dog and continued. “She’s been like a mother to you.”
“I have a mother.”
“But Mina took you in, ow! You little—”
Angry to be unseated, the puppy had pounced back on her foot and begun munching her toes. She could feel its tiny needle teeth working through her flesh and once again she shook the ankle shark loose. The movement of her foot caught the attention of another puppy, who came bounding toward her like a squirrel assassin. The new one slammed into the original attacker and the two of them rolled like a tumbleweed to the left, locked in a high-pitched, growling battle.
Outside, the Miata roared to life and Lyndsey glanced at the window.
“What’s that?”
Freed from the puppies, Charlotte took a step forward, forcing Lyndsey to focus back on her. Lyndsey pointed the gun at Charlotte and then placed the tip back against Mina’s head. Mina’s whole body shook as her lips mumbled something that looked very much like a prayer.
Lyndsey shuffled to the left with Mina to peer out the window.
“They took my car. Those bitches.”
Charlotte decided she’d have to buy Lyndsey a thesaurus as a going-away-to-prison gift. There were so many other options for name-calling. Cows, harlots, jerkfaces, bastards...which they were, technically...
“Get out of my way.” Lyndsey pointed her gun at Charlotte.
Charlotte held up a palm. “Let’s talk about this. You still have options.”
Lyndsey pushed Mina, forcing her to walk forward. Charlotte backed.
I need to keep her talking. Where are the cops? Please tell me Mina called nine-one-one.
“Lyndsey, we all understand why you did what you did. You had to kill your Uncle Miller. He’d left you no choice.”
Lyndsey paused and Mina stopped walking.
“He left me no choice,” she echoed. She pressed her lips together, her eyes beginning to well with tears. “He told me I was his daughter. He was so proud. And then all of a sudden he denied it.”
“It was the disease that made him think you weren’t.”
“He was going to change the will again. Mom said we had to have his money to make our new life. To make the equestrian center.”
“Right. We get that.”
Now backed into the front hall, Charlotte glanced out the door. In the distance, she heard sirens. She never dreamed she’d be so pleased to see Sheriff Carter.
She looked back, in time to see one of the puppies line itself up in front of her, its gaze locked on hers.
Don’t you do it…
The puppy backed up to get a running start and then ran full force at her leg, flipping at the last moment to land on its back on her foot before twisting to chomp down on her flip flop strap.
Every time Charlotte wiggled her foot, the movement only increased the dog’s attack frenzy.
“You can have the money,” said Mina.
Lyndsey tightened her grip on Mina’s neck and pressed the gun against her head. Mina winced, her eyes screwed shut.
“I love you, Lyndsey. Please. I’ll be sure you get it all.”
Lyndsey’s expression appeared trapped between anger and teary frustration. She cocked her head and glanced at the window.
She can hear the sirens now.
Lyndsey pointed the gun at Charlotte. “This will never work. It’s all ruined now. Move it. Move out of the way. I’m taking her with me.”
Another puppy ran by Charlotte into the hall as she took a step back, dragging her most recent fuzzy attacker with her. She held up her hands, her gun pointed to the ceiling.
“Keep going.”
Charlotte continued to walk backwards, clubfooted by the Yorkie until she passed the stairs, providing Lyndsey a clear path to the door.
“You can go, but leave Mina. You don’t need to take her. I won’t shoot you.”
Charlotte lowered her weapon to the ground. As she straightened, the Yorkies on her foot dove off to pounce on the gun, causing it to spin wildly.
All three of the women winced and jumped, yelping as the dog continued to spin the gun, trying to bite the barrel.
Lyndsey shoved Mina toward the twirling weapon. She moved for the door, lifting her foot to run, only to find it hovering over the puppy that had wandered into the hall. Instinctively, she tried to avoid the pup and fell forward against the wall, her own gun sent skittering across the floor.
This is my chance.
Charlotte lunged forward and slammed Lyndsey against the wall to keep her from moving for the gun. Slipping her hands under Lyndsey’s armpits, she jerked her foe away from the wall and further from where the gun lay. They stumbled toward the opposite wall and fell against it to slide to the floor.
Lyndsey tried to roll as Charlotte pinned her arms. She was much larger than the horse trainer, and though Lyndsey fought like a wolverine to throw her off, Charlotte was able to keep her down.
“Grab the gun,” Charlotte grunted at Mina as she wrestled to keep her grip.
Lyndsey roared and tried to slam the back of her head into Charlotte’s face.
Mina scrambled to Lyndsey’s gun. Charlotte glanced over to find herself looking down the barrel of the weapon held in Mina’s trembling hand.
Okay. That might have been a bad idea.
Outside, she heard the police cars skid to a stop and Sheriff Carter appeared at the door, his gun drawn on Mina.
“Drop it!”
Mina followed his direction and Charlotte winced and ducked as the weapon clattered to the tile.
A moment later, the deputies had Lyndsey cuffed. Charlotte leaned against the wall, exhausted.
“You okay?” asked Carter.
She nodded, panting. “Did you see the twins?”
He bobbed his head in the direction of the parking area and she looked past him to see the girls standing with phones p
ointed at Lyndsey as she was guided into the back of the squad car.
“They’re right outside taking photos for Instagram.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Charlotte sat with Miss Izzy on her lap, petting a small mountain of white hair to the ground while Mariska fussed in her kitchen.
“So she killed her uncle for the inheritance?” asked Mariska as she hauled out her stand-mixer.
Charlotte nodded. “After they arrested her they found a crawlspace off her bathroom filled with hundreds of letters from her mother while she was in prison, every one of them poisoning the girl’s mind against Kimber Miller and his family. She never really stood a chance. She had it set up like a little shrine.”
“Cindy said she saw police lights over at Tracy’s house. They’ve taken that awful woman away.”
“They arrested her as an accessory. I think she’s every bit as responsible as Lyndsey for the murder.”
Mariska harrumphed. “I don’t always go in for those my-mommy-made-me-do-it defenses, but maybe this time there’s something to it.”
Charlotte stood and moved to the kitchen island to watch Mariska lay measuring cups and spoons side-by-side like little soldiers.
“What are you making?”
“Cookies.”
“I don’t remember you being this meticulous when you bake. Usually the place looks like a kitchen supply store has exploded.”
Mariska smiled. “I have a friend coming to bake with me.”
There was a knock on the door and Charlotte peered through Mariska’s kitchen window to spot a dark-haired girl on the stoop.
Mariska clapped her hands and bounced to the door to answer.
“Come on in.”
Crystal entered the house with a bag of flour tucked under one arm. She looked fresher and cleaner than Charlotte had seen her before, and it took her a moment to realize it was because she was wearing bright colors instead of her trademark black. Her hair, while still dyed an unnatural blue-black, had been pulled back in a neat ponytail.
“Hi, Crystal. I guess you’re Mariska’s mystery baker today?”