Hidden Motive

by Alexander, Hannah

  Hidden Motive

  Hannah Alexander

  Hidden Motive

  Copyright 2003, 2019

  Previously published as Crystal Cavern

  Hannah Alexander

  Published by Hannah Alexander Books

  PO Box 1525

  Rawlins WY 82301

  Cover and interior created by Angela Hunt

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise—without the prior written consent of the publisher.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Sneak Peak, Hallowed Halls

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  The jarring bleep of the cell phone jerked Sable Chamberlin’s eyes open to a dark room that had dropped at least ten degrees since she’d nodded off. Had to turn up the heat and change that ring tone. Not only did she hate the harsh sound but the ring often summoned her to the Boswell Community Hospital for an emergency. Being on call sixty hours a week had gotten old. She wasn’t on call this evening, however, she was in mourning.

  She pulled the phone out of her pocket and answered, casting a glance through her kitchen window at the lightning over the company town of Freemont, Oklahoma. It seemed so much later than six o’clock.

  “Sable, that you?” The voice of her elderly friend, Noah Erwin, held comfort.

  “Hi Noah.”

  “How’d the funeral go?”

  She closed her eyes, tears still too close. Her grandfather, Josiah Kessinger, had been the only reason for her move here to Freemont from the Missouri Ozarks.

  “It went.”

  “Hard?”

  “Funerals are always hard but at least in Missouri no one’s setting him up with false accusations.”

  “They are false, you know,” Noah said.

  “I know.” Her grandfather’s death this past Monday had coincided with a rumor of fraud. She’d also been implicated in the supposed deception. The two of them weren’t natives of this tightly knit mining community and that made them easy targets.

  “You just get back to town?” Noah asked.

  “Yes, I have a shift tomorrow.” Saturday was a busy day at the clinic. “What’s up?”

  “I got a package for you in the mail in care of my address. I’d bring it to you but my truck’s in for repairs.”

  “Who sent the package?”

  There was a hesitation. “Looks like Josiah.”

  She waited for more explanation.

  None came.

  “That’s not possible,” she said. “It doesn’t take five full days to get a package across the state line. He was dead before that package could have been sent.”

  “It’s his dramatic scrawl,” Noah said. “No name on the return address but it’s postmarked from Eagle Rock, Missouri.”

  Well, maybe he’d given it to someone else to mail. But why would he do that? “Would you open it please?” Sable asked. “I’ll drive out there if it’s something important.”

  She heard a ripping sound. Noah said something under his breath and then paused. The pause became a protracted silence.

  “Noah?”

  “Lord help us all,” he murmured.

  “What?”

  Noah continued to mutter as paper rustled. She didn’t rush him. He’d been her patient since her second day on the job and had become her grandfather’s closest friend. He’d also become the most important human influence in her life.

  “You’d better come on out,” Noah said at last. “Something’s up. I knew Josiah had a lot on his mind but the old rascal never was much for sharing his thoughts.”

  “What is it?”

  “You should see the stuff he’s dug up,” Noah said. “Papers and letters about dirty deals, pictures, reports.”

  “Dirty deals? What kind of—”

  “You might oughta think about repacking your bags and heading back to Missouri,” Noah said. “These look like copies.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “He’s got that old copier on the farm that squiggles and blurs. You know he keeps his important papers back in Missouri. You got any idea where—” He broke off.

  “Noah?”

  “Thought I heard something.”

  “Like what?” This felt increasingly bad.

  “Probably the wind. Looks like a storm. Would you get out here? Josiah hinted something about spies amongst us, and—” He broke off again. “What was that?” Silence, then distantly, “Hello? Who’s there?”

  She gripped the phone and took a slow breath. It was only the wind.

  Noah came back on the line. “Sorry about that. I’m a little jumpy is all.” He sounded anxious.

  “I’ll call the police.”

  “No! These notes suggest one of them’s dirty. Murph’s got his cell phone on him. I’ll call him out.”

  Paul Murphy, a paramedic at the clinic, was solid and strong. Sable liked and trusted the man. More important, he had become amazingly good friends with Noah during the weeks he’d been working here.

  “I’ll be waiting on the porch,” Noah said. “See you in about ten.”

  She grabbed her car keys and billfold from the kitchen counter and pulled on her coat. Noah lived alone in an old farmhouse four miles from town. She rushed outside and locked the door behind her. Hurrying to the car, she automatically gripped the old pocket watch she kept on a chain around her neck. It was an enigmatic gift from her grandfather this past Christmas.

  Ever since he’d given her the watch, he’d become secretive. Three weeks ago he’d told her, “Darlin’, if anything happens to me you have to get out of Oklahoma. Don’t look back. This isn’t any kind of town for a young lady like you.”

  Recalling those words, she jumped into her Camaro and backed from the driveway. Maybe soon she would have the answers she needed. She hoped they didn’t raise more questions.

  But Grandpa died in an automobile accident. Didn’t he?

  * * *

  A flash of lightning illuminated Noah Erwin’s sprawling old house. The storm split the clouds with its violence, accentuating the lack of lights in the house. Noah wasn’t on the porch waiting for her as he’d said he’d be.

  She unlatched the gate and pulled it open with a creak of rusty hinges, then stepped carefully along the flagstone path. She stopped as another flash lit the top step of the porch.

  Both the storm door and the heavy oak door were jammed open by a shadowed human form sprawled across the threshold.

  The ground seemed to move beneath her feet and she stumbled. Noah? Her dear friend.

  “No,” Sable whispered. “No-no-no!” She rushed up the porch steps and fell to her knees at his side. “Noah! Oh Lord no!”

  More lightning revealed a pool of blood from his temple. Hi
s glazed eyes held the blank stare she’d come to know so well over the years.

  Anguished beyond thought, she felt for a pulse at his throat. Noah’s head fell sideways, revealing a massive wound at the back of his skull. She had no doubt someone had done this and had completed the job.

  Sable felt the porch spin, her body numbing from the shock. She leaned against the doorframe as tears blinded her and icy wind whipped her hair across her face.

  This was murder. She dashed the tears from her eyes and cast a frantic look around the shadowed entryway and the living room beyond. Dark shapes lurked in every corner of the huge room. Lightning outlined the sofa and chairs, catching Noah’s old desk in sharp relief.

  The storm blocked any other sounds and the wind scattered papers across the foyer. Those papers…were they the ones Noah had called her about? Terrified of lingering, yet desperate to find out why he had died, she grabbed as many as she could find and stuffed them into the deep left pocket of her coat.

  The wind broke briefly. The sound of a footfall reached her from the darkness near the kitchen door.

  Movement! Lightning revealed a man lunging from the shadows. Sable screamed and stumbled backward over Noah’s body. She fell on her side then scrambled up and away.

  The man grabbed her coat sleeve. She screamed again, yanking from his grip as she ran off the porch toward her car.

  Footsteps splashed in the mud behind her. She’d never make the car. She broke and dove into a clump of bushes. Thorns scraped her exposed hands. She fought her way through the hedgerow, fighting brambles that clung to her clothes.

  Sable fumbled in her pocket for her keys as she set her sights on her car, but her foot caught on a root and she fell. The man caught her. She swung around to claw at his face…there was no face.

  Lightning revealed a ski mask.

  A brilliant flash of headlights glared through the spiny branches of the shrubs. Her attacker released her abruptly and swung away, stumbled, plunged back through the hedgerow and disappeared into the darkness.

  Sable froze, heart pounding in rhythm of the engine, breath coming in hard rasps. The vehicle passed. She turned and ran toward her car but the SUV pulled in behind it, blocking her escape. She plunged into the blackness beyond the driveway.

  “Hey!” a man shouted from the vehicle. A familiar voice?

  Sable staggered over the uneven ground. Again she heard the sound of pursuing footsteps. She reached level ground and raced toward the tool shed. There might be a weapon of some sort among the garden tools, maybe a hoe or—

  Strong hands gripped her shoulders and spun her around, shoving her against the wall of the shed.

  She screamed, jerking her knee upward until it hit something solid.

  The man grunted but held fast.

  She raked her nails down the side of his neck, kicked at his legs. “Let go of me!”

  Another grunt. “Dr. Chamberlin?” Shocked surprise.

  “Get away from me!”

  “Sable!” He grabbed her by the arms. “Doctor, stop it!

  The familiar voice registered. She froze, recognizing the light scent of aftershave, the breadth of his shoulders.

  “Doctor, it's me. It's Paul Murphy.” He groaned in pain.

  Relief flooded her, followed by chagrin, gradually mingling with alarm at her behavior. “Murph?” She peered through the shadowy gloom at Paul Murphy’s face—the paramedic who had been with the clinic for the past six weeks.

  “Oh Murph, I’m so—”

  “What happened? Where's Noah?”

  She swallowed hard as the first fat drops of rain splashed against her face. “He's on the porch. Murph, he’s dead!”

  There was a deep silence.

  “He’s been murdered and his murderer is still here.” She fought back her own horror. No time. “Noah called me no more than fifteen minutes ago with—”

  Murph released her and turned toward the house, sucking in air as if he’d been kicked. “He called me too.”

  Sable realized what he was going to do and she grabbed his arm. “Don’t go up there. Didn’t you hear me? His murderer is still here. He tried to get to me. Your lights scared him off.”

  Murph looked back at her. “All I saw was you running.”

  “He could be anywhere and he has a gun. We’ve got to get away!”

  There was another long crackle of chain-link thunder. When the echo of it died away it was replaced by a siren.

  Sable squeezed Murph’s arm. “That’s got to be the police. Noah warned me not to trust them. We’ve got to go now! Murph come on.” She released him and raced toward her car. “Get in!”

  The sirens grew louder as Sable jumped into the car, slammed the door, and turned on the key. The motor sprang to life with a rumble of power. Murph slid in on the passenger side as she put the car into gear.

  The wide tires of the Camaro tore up grass and slung mud as they gripped the earth. Sable held her breath and pressed the accelerator to the floorboard. They cleared the bushes at the far end of Noah's front yard as flashing lights stained the night sky. Sable didn't switch on her headlights.

  She turned onto a straight stretch of road. “Please tell me you believe me.”

  “Yes. Are you okay? Did that man hurt you?”

  “He killed Noah!” She fought tears. No time.

  Her ruse with the headlights worked. As the sirens receded she relaxed her foot on the accelerator but too soon. Lights hit her rearview mirror. No colors, no siren.

  “Someone's following us,” she said.

  “Keep driving and get your headlights on or we’ll plunge into the canal.”

  Sable complied, downshifting for a burst of power, bracing herself for the sharp turn at the edge of the deep canal less than a quarter mile ahead.

  Despite her speed, the car behind drew closer. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel.

  Only a few hundred feet from the curve, the other car accelerated. Sable pressed her right foot to the floorboard and the Camaro responded with another burst of speed.

  High-beams swung around the curve ahead and into her face. Swerving, Sable realized too late how close she was to the canal curve. She yanked the steering wheel hard left. The road was too slick even for the Camaro. The car slammed against a concrete abutment. Murph's door flew open. Sable screamed.

  “We're going over!” Murph grabbed Sable's arm. “We have to jump!”

  Sable held him for support. The car bumped off the blacktop and plummeted toward the water.

  Pushing themselves free from the car, Sable and Murph plunged into the shocking cold blackness.

  Chapter 2

  Paul Murphy broke the surface, gasping for air in the numbing cold. Waves from the car’s impact washed over him. He fought to stay afloat and keep the force of the current from dragging him forward. Dr. Chamberlin’s car bumped hard and echoed against the steep sides of the canal in its race downstream. He strained to see through the darkness for a sign of her.

  “Doctor!” he called.

  “Really? You’re standing on protocol now?” came her breathless voice in the darkness. “It’s Sable.”

  “You hurt?”

  “No but we’re going to freeze. We have to get out of here.”

  Before he could reply, two sets of headlights penetrated the night from above.

  Hampered by his down coat, he swam to the bank of the canal. He grasped the branches of a bush above his head and pulled himself from the water. The thump of closing car doors kept him silent. He couldn’t risk drawing someone to their position.

  In the wash of the headlights, he caught the outline of a dark form about ten feet to his right. Dr. Chamberlin. Sable. He scrambled toward her along the muddy bank.

  Male voices rat-a-tatted across the water’s surface.

  “Who was it? Did you see?”

  “Had to be the dead man’s granddaughter. It was her car.”

  “I know that,” the first man snapped. “Who was with her?”


  “Some big guy.”

  Murph reached Sable. She grabbed his arm and held on. He felt her shivering.

  “Keep your head down,” he whispered.

  “There was a Bronco in the driveway,” came one of the voices from above. “We’ll have McCann run the license plate.” The beam of a flashlight traveled slowly over the surface of the water. Murph ducked his head, glad for his dark coat.

  “Anything out there?” one of the men asked.

  “Not yet. What brought you out?” The beam continued its search.

  “A neighbor told me old Noah got a suspicious delivery. Postmark from Missouri. No return address but it had the doctor’s name on it. Guess her grandfather dragged her into his mess.”

  “Sounds that way. We’ve got to keep the Feds out of it.”

  A new voice joined the others. “Hey! I got a call. Somebody shot Noah.”

  Murphy frowned in confusion. If these men hadn’t done it, who had? Were there two factions at work here? How big was this operation?

  The flashlight beam stopped its methodical search of the water and was redirected to the roadway above. Risking a look, Murph saw three dark figures huddling together. The men lowered their voices as their conversation continued. Murph couldn’t hear everything.

  “Won’t have to worry about that one, then,” said one of the others.

  Murph gritted his teeth at the casual dismissal, as if Noah was something to be dumped on a garbage heap.

  “So we’ll get word out that the doctor shot the old fool.”

  Murph shivered in the icy air as the voices above went silent and the flashlight beam played across the water again. The stream of light began to edge toward him. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, willing himself to perfect stillness. He and Sable were close to a stand of trees and brush on the other side of the canal and they were both in dark clothing.