by Becki Willis
Her thoughts came in starts and sputters, a disjointed tangle of nerves and worry.
“Bryce. I have to call Bryce,” she muttered at one point.
The call went to voicemail, so she sent a text. When he still didn’t answer, she paced some more.
After a while, she forced herself back into the chair, if only for the sake of the rug beneath her feet. Much more of her pacing, and it would be trampled bare. She forced her attention to the button, even when her eyes kept straying to the bag.
The button was made of brass and had tarnished through the years, but a bit of elbow grease might change that. She had watched enough television, however, to know to proceed with care. It was doubtful there was any evidence left to destroy, but just in case, she found a toothpick. She slid it beneath the shank and held the button up for inspection.
It slipped down the smooth sliver of wood twice, until she used a second toothpick for balance and held the button in place. She got her first good look at its face, noting the braided crisscross design and the fancily scrolled letters, most likely the brand’s initials. It was hard to tell, but she thought the first letter was a ‘T.’ Tommy Hilfiger, perhaps? But no, that wasn’t an ‘H’ on the button. It looked more like a ‘P.’
“TP, TP. What designer was that, back in the day?” She ran the letters over in her mind, trying to image what they stood for. She tested several, before an amused smile lit her face. “I’ve got it! Toad Pond!”
She laughed as her own wit, recognizing the silly word play for what it was. She was a nervous wreck, fueled by anxiety and a touch of hysteria.
By the time Bryce returned her call, she was pacing again.
“Sorry, it’s been quite a day,” Bryce said.
“Has it ever! You will not believe what I have in my possession!” Her voice was shrill.
“What is it?”
“I can’t tell you over the phone. It has to be in person.”
She heard his sigh. “I haven’t eaten all day. Meet me at Shady Maple?”
“Perfect. I don’t think I’ve eaten, either.”
“You don’t think you’ve eaten?”
“I’ve been too busy walking the floor to stop to eat.”
“Okay, then, I’ll see you there in an hour.”
She resisted the urge to tell him that was far too long away, but she still had to find a good hiding place for the bag. She agreed and hung up, immediately searching for just the right location.
It changed at least five times.
In the freezer was too obvious.
Under the mattress was too common.
Anywhere in the bathroom was too damp.
Beneath her pillow was too close.
After moving it time and again, she finally chose to slip the flowered pouch into the zippered cover of a couch pillow. She turned it against the cushions and piled two other pillows on top of it.
She made certain to lock the door as she left. It crossed her mind that poor Lillian had lived with the burden of the hidden pouch for almost forty years. The woman must have nerves of steel! It was the only explanation.
Taryn drove to the popular smorgasbord for the second time that week, but she kept one eye on the road behind her. She half-expected to see a patrolman on her tail. Didn’t they have some sixth sense when it came to a stash of cocaine? Surely, her guilt was written across her face, and transmitted through the taillights of her borrowed car.
When the hostess seated them, Taryn requested privacy. The best the woman could do was a back-corner booth, but the tables on either side of them were empty. At least for the time being, they had a bit of privacy in the otherwise crowded restaurant.
“You’re being rather mysterious,” Bryce said. Instead of going straight to the buffet line, they settled in at the booth. “What’s going on?”
She gave him a brief rundown of the day’s events and the package buried in her couch cushions.
“I knew your aunt was hiding something!” he said, his dark eyes glittering with speculation.
“Apparently, she’s held onto the items all these years, but she’s been too frightened to come forward. And now, just as she’s willing to give us the evidence and quite possibly a name, she saw this.” Taryn pulled her phone out and showed Bryce her latest message, as if it were an afterthought.
Reading it, he was livid. “Someone threatened your life, and you’re just now telling me about it!” It wasn’t a question, but an outraged comment.
“Hush!” she hissed. “Keep your voice down!”
His face was set into hard lines. “Taryn, this has crossed the line. This is no longer harassment. This is an outright threat.”
“Yeah, well, now Aunt Lillian is scared out of her wits. She ran into the house and barricaded herself in her room and refuses to speak to me. She had just told me how much she admired my courage and conviction. She was willing to share her evidence with me and give me a name. And then my phone buzzed, and she saw the message.” Elbows on the table, Taryn plopped her chin into her hands and sulked.
“I don’t think you understand the significance of this message,” Bryce firmly chastised her. “This person just said they plan to kill you.”
She gave him a withering look. “I know that. I also know they made similar threats before this, and so far, the worst they have done is hack my credit card account and follow me around.” She held up a hand to stop his potential outburst.
“Not that those things weren’t bad enough. But I don’t think he actually means to kill me, at least not yet. He’s trying to scare me.”
“Is it working?” Bryce asked pointedly, his dark eyes glaring, daring her to deny it.
Her voice was small as she sat back against the booth. “Yes,” she admitted. “Of course I’m scared. But I’m also mad, and right now, that overrules my fear. I am furious at this toad man, and the fact that so far, he’s literally gotten away with murder. I refuse to sit by and let this happen any longer. One way or another, I’m going to find out who this man is and I’m going to make him pay.”
“Great plan,” Bryce agreed. His expression hardened. “Now, how are you going to make it happen?”
“Somehow, I have to convince my aunt to give me the man’s name.”
“And if she won’t?”
That fire flashed in her eyes again, the one that turned her violet eyes into an electrical current, alive with energy and passion. The surge jolted Bryce all the way to his toes.
“My uncle invited me to come back, anytime I wanted. If I have to, I’ll snoop around until I find their old records, and I’ll go through them, one by one,” she vowed. “If I have to comb through every customer they ever had, I will find that man’s name, and I will make him pay.”
Seeing her determination and the set of her jaw, coupled with the fierce glow within her eyes, Bryce had no doubt she would do just that.
“Then Lord have mercy on his soul,” he murmured.
“Toads don’t have a soul,” she tossed back. She stood and stalked off toward the buffet line.
She ate with a coming appetite, realizing just how hungry she truly was. Apparently, she had worked up quite the appetite while pacing the confines of her room. The delicious comfort food worked to soothe her nerves and by the time she was ready for dessert, she was almost relaxed.
Bryce’s calming voice and assured manner may have been partly to credit for the change of attitude. He spoke confidently of how the investigation was going and detailed his plans for the upcoming week. He even offered to take the flowered pouch for safekeeping, and for her peace of mind.
By the time she went in search of sweets, she felt the first wave of calm for the day. Even this morning, she had worried over meeting her uncle, and how he might greet her.
Taryn scooped a small portion of warm bread pudding onto her plate, adding a dollop of ice cream and a thin sliver of chocolate cake. On impulse, she added a small lemon cookie. She helped herself to coffee and started back to the dining room.
“Well, fancy meeting you here,” a voice said in front of her.
Taryn looked up in surprise.
She wasn’t sure if her heart sank down to her stomach, or if her stomach rose up to bump into her heart. Either way, the two seemed to collide, and the result was not pleasant. Taryn felt slightly nauseous as her heart started to clamor.
“M—Mr. Baxter. What—What are you doing here?” she stammered, hoping her profound dismay didn’t reflect upon her face.
“The same as you, I’m sure. Having a delicious meal at one of the area’s finest restaurants.” The businessman smiled down at her, but the smile never quite reached his eyes. As always, his attitude managed to be both condescending and magnanimously indulgent, all at the same time.
“Yes, it’s a very impressive place,” she agreed, wondering how she would gracefully go around him. He stood directly in her path.
“Do you come here often?”
“I’ve only recently discovered it. Still a newbie,” she said, shrugging a bit and indicating her sampler of desserts. She attempted a step forward, but he didn’t back away.
“What about the area? Do you come to Lancaster County often?”
“No. And you?”
“I have business in the area, from time to time. Actually, Taryn, I’ve wanted to talk with you. I may have a business proposition you’d be interested in, now that the firm has closed.”
“Thank you, but I’m not looking for a job just yet.”
“Whenever you’re ready, then. May I get your number?” he inquired smoothly. “Or your card, perhaps?”
“Sorry, full hands,” she said, again indicating the plate of dessert and the cup of coffee. She rushed on to say, “But I know your number is in the phone book, and I’ll give you a call when I’m back home and in the market. Thanks, anyway, for thinking of me.” This time, she moved deliberately to the side and made her escape.
She was still visibly upset when she joined Bryce back at the table. Her eyes darted over her shoulder, half-afraid Thomas Baxter had followed her there.
Out of habit, Bryce stood when she approached. His focus sharpened when he saw how upset she was.
“Taryn? Is something wrong?” He immediately put his large body between her and the perceived threat of danger. Always the protector. “Did you see one of the men who came to the farm? Did someone send you another message?”
“What? Oh no, nothing like that.” She waved him back into his seat as she took her own. “I just ran into someone I know. One of our clients from the firm. I—the man always rattled my nerves,” she admitted. “He wanted to offer me a business proposition. He’s easily old enough to be my father, but the way he looks at me…” Her voice trailed off and a ripple moved through her shoulders. “I get the impression the proposition didn’t have much to do with business, at all. The man just gives me the creeps.”
Bryce nodded to the bread pudding on her plate. “Take a bite of that,” he said, choosing to steer the conversation to higher ground. “Guaranteed to lift your spirits. There’s not much that warm bread pudding can’t cure.”
She surprised herself by actually laughing. “Now you sound like Molly!”
Chapter 35
It was an amazing sight, watching the entire Zook family fold their black-clad bodies into the confines of two covered buggies and a two-wheeled cart. With minimal fuss and effort, they piled into their unique mode of transportation and were gone from the farm in little time, leaving a distinct emptiness in their wake. Without the murmur of a dozen voices, punctuated by laughter and movement, the farm was unusually quiet. Just like her aunt.
Lillian still hadn’t spoken to Taryn since yesterday’s incident.
The farm normally brought peace and tranquility to Taryn’s soul, but after yesterday’s text, she had to admit that she was a bit on edge. Bryce would be here any moment, but the stillness in the interim only enhanced her nervousness.
They would visit another racetrack today, this one in nearby Bucks County. Bryce raised the point that, with a reputation for producing excellent horseflesh, it stood to reason that Manuel King’s client base would reach far beyond the immediate area. He felt it prudent to expand their search. Not only did this track feature a gallery of past winners, but he had also arranged an informal meeting with a board member from The State Horse Racing Commission. The man was willing to talk with them about the ever-present threat of doping and to share the names of known participants. Currently, there was a growing controversy over the common practice of giving horses Lasix before a race, so their timing for an inquiry was quite relevant.
After dressing for the day, Taryn made certain the flowered bag was still secure in its hiding spot. She considered relocating it but knew doing so would entail another thirty-minute dilemma. With any luck, Bryce would be here in five.
She heard the chickens putting up quite a squawk and thought it must be him. She hadn’t heard his truck pull up, but the walls were well insulated and created an excellent sound barrier.
Taryn slipped her purse over her shoulder and locked the door securely behind her. Hearing the chickens cackle with such fervor brought to mind the sight Pete and Deborah made each evening as they herded the flock into its coop. She chuckled now, thinking of her newly discovered family and how quickly they endeared themselves to her heart.
It was really no wonder. A parched desert swelled in response to the most limited amounts of rain, and if there ever was a heart dehydrated and begging for dew, it was hers. It took little effort on their part to saturate her arid heart with affection.
The commotion from the chicken pen grew louder, pulling Taryn back to the deck railing. From there, she had a clear view of the garden and the coop beyond that.
“Dang it!” she exclaimed softly. “How did Kellogg get himself so tangled up?” Seeing the rooster—named after the iconic image on the cereal box—caught in the fabric of the chicken-wire fence, she knew she had to help.
Using care where she stepped in her open-toed sandals, Taryn skirted the garden and picked her way through the muddy path out to the chicken coop. An early morning shower had washed the dust from the grass and trees but left it to gather into muddy puddles scattered here and there.
Taryn approached with trepidation, afraid the fowl might not recognize her efforts as an offer of help. His foot caught on the way up and over, so now the feathered creature faced her. Most importantly, his sharp beak was within striking distance of her hand, and Taryn had no desire to be pecked, particularly when doing a good deed.
She let herself inside the pen, sandals and all, and approached from the rooster’s backside. Dangling there the way he was, the mighty bird couldn’t curl his large body backwards and retaliate for any temporary pain she might inflict.
Apologizing profusely to the feathered fowl, Taryn worked the scaly yellow toes from the prickly wire. In truth, the long digits looked more like human fingers, with their joints and pointed nails. An image of the infamous Grinch came to mind, taking her mind off the slightly disgusting task of touching the rooster’s foot. A few moments later, Kellogg let out an undignified screech and flapped his wings, as he awkwardly took flight and landed just a few feet away. Free of the fence and only slightly worse for wear, he reestablished his importance and grandeur in the farmyard by warming up and unfurling a distinguished—and very loud—cock-a-doodle-do.
Taryn laughed aloud. “Okay, buddy, I hear you. And I’m going to take that as a thank you.” She knocked her hands together to clean them and started for the gate. If she wasn’t mistaken, Bryce just pulled up.
She was mistaken.
From where she stood behind the garden, she had a clear view of the driveway and of the large black car now sitting at the neck of the lane, and effectively blocking the drive. That definitely was not Bryce.
Her heart ticked up a notch as unease settled into her shoulders. It could be a customer off the road, but it was Sunday morning. Surely even the most clueless of tourists wou
ld know the Amish didn’t do business on Sundays. Taryn remembered a time when that was the norm for people everywhere, not just the Plain communities.
Unusually cautious, Taryn stood back, allowing the tallest of the staked tomato plants to camouflage her presence. She crouched down a bit as the driver opened the door and stood.
She was glad a healthy distance separated them, or else he might have heard the gasp that escaped her. Did the man ever give up? Was Thomas Baxter really so presumptuous that he thought she would welcome further attempts to contact her? And how had the man found her, in the first place? The nerve of him!
She was tempted to march out there and give him a piece of her mind. She had never liked him from the beginning, or the way he watched her with those cold, calculating eyes. For years, professional duties and loyalty to the firm kept her in line. All those times she was forced to work with him, she had swallowed her sharp retorts and hid her revulsion.
When she had drawn up the papers making his connections to a Pittsburgh strip club seem innocent enough, her skin crawled at the thought of those eyes, leering at the nearly naked bodies of the women dancing. When he publicly touted a firm stand against marijuana use, and opened no less than three dispensaries in Colorado, Taryn bit her tongue. When she created the layers of shell corporations to hide the man’s close ties to legalized gambling—and knew, somehow, that he had connections to the illegal varieties as well—Taryn remained silent. Bound by the same rules of client confidentiality as the attorneys she worked for, Taryn couldn’t go to the press as she yearned to do. But what would voters think, if they knew he held majority interest in the state’s most highly protested casino?
All those years, she did her job and never said a word.
But that was then, and this was now. There was nothing holding her back now. She could tell the man exactly what she thought of him and his bloated, arrogant ways. Why, he was nothing but an old, puffed-out toad!
It started in her stomach. That odd, unsettled feeling, like someone had tilted her tummy and left it slightly askew. The sensation quickly escalated, seeping into her gut until it felt soured and twisted. Her heartbeat quickened. Her breath came in small, quick pants. She swallowed hard.