Clay climbed the rickety steps and raised his voice. “Sandy?”
The door opened with a squeal of rusty hinges. Clay stepped inside. “Sandy! Come on out. Everything’s okay.”
Still, there was no reply.
Clay motioned toward the crowd gathered outside. His voice was strong, but his feet felt as heavy as two Mack trucks. “I don’t see her. She’s not here.”
* * *
Air inside the cramped closet was barely breathable, yet Sandy Lynn could not stop gasping and began sobbing as soon as she’d worked the gag loose and spit it out. Being this close to panic made her picture herself standing at the edge of a cliff, her toes touching the edge, a yawning abyss beyond. The image made her dizzy, nauseous. Her pulse thudded in her head, in her temples, as if her vessels could barely contain the pressure.
This degree of hysteria had occurred for the first time when she was younger, in her initial foster home, when two of the older girls had thought it would be funny to lock her up and leave her there. By the time her caregivers had found and released her, she was slick with sweat, exhausted from screaming and crying and smelled of urine. Fear was soon replaced by embarrassment and she’d run away, only to be found and taken to a different home, and three more after that, until she’d landed with the couple who’d lived next door to the Danforths. To Clay. He was the reason she’d stayed.
“Think of him,” she told herself in a hoarse whisper. “Think of Clay, not where you are or who put you here.”
Doing that did help some. So did wordless pleas for deliverance formed as prayers. It didn’t matter that none of her thoughts were that coherent. She knew God heard her and would sort it out. The problem was waiting. Keeping her head was hard when she wanted to scream her throat raw and kick at the closet door until her toes ached. Not knowing where Charles and his buddies had gone was secondary. By now there had to be lots of police with the ranger and Clay. That was a plus.
“If I get out of this... No, when I get out of this, I’m going to do whatever it takes to get Clay’s chief to understand why he disobeyed orders to stay in Springfield and helped me run away. It’s not fair for him to be blamed. He was only doing the morally right thing,” she whispered to herself.
Although her raspy breathing continued intermittently she was becoming calm enough to reason. She’d used her hands to pull the gag loose. Maybe she could use her teeth to untie the rope. Trying not to think about who or what had had prior access to the rough, twisted cords, she curled her lip, sucked up her courage and bit into the knots. They were gritty. The texture turned her stomach and she tasted bile on her tongue.
Suddenly the closet door was jerked open and Sandy Lynn almost tumbled out. Hood caught her. “I might have known you’d try to get loose,” he growled. “Come on. We’re all leaving.”
There was little Sandy Lynn could do to deter them except make herself hard to carry, so she pretended to faint, going limp and trusting him to keep her from actually hitting the floor.
Hood cursed. Someone else laughed, taunting him with pointed comments about his choice of women. Well, fine. Whatever worked, Sandy Lynn thought. She had to slow him down to give the police time to locate them. What she hadn’t anticipated, and should have, was the unleashing of his violent temper.
He hauled her to her feet in front of him. Before she could collapse again the flat of his beefy hand caught her across the cheek and sent her reeling. She bounced off the wall. There was no way she could squelch a screech of pain.
“Faking. That’s what I thought,” Charles shouted. “Get up and get moving or I’ll give you more of the same.”
Had the cops overheard? She doubted it. Not inside, with doors and windows closed. But if she was dragged outside, the silent forest would be the perfect backdrop for a blood-curdling scream that would echo off the hills and let everyone know she was in trouble.
She began to cooperate, not so much that he’d think she’d surrendered totally but enough that he might neglect replacing her gag. All she needed was one chance. One unguarded opportunity to let loose a high-pitched howl that would put a frantic wolf to shame.
It would have to be quick, she told herself. And very, very loud, because Charles was sure to react with more physical punishment. She’d felt his wrath often enough in the past to know how much he could hurt her. That didn’t matter. She couldn’t let herself think of anything except warning Clay and at the same time alerting the police.
It would have to be the best screaming she’d ever done. And she’d have to be braced for retaliation. It was certain to come. Hard, fast and painful.
“God, help me,” Sandy Lynn whispered.
Even if it wasn’t much of a prayer, it was all she could manage. A simple plea and quiet thankfulness for the faith that she knew would sustain her in the moments ahead.
* * *
Clay had reclaimed his pistol on the sly and tucked it into his belt, pulling his jacket over it. He kept searching the empty building, hoping with all his heart that Sandy Lynn was merely hiding. Chief Wright had sent Abe and several other officers, including Arkansas State Troopers, inside to offer assistance. Nobody turned up the missing woman.
Logical progression led him to the rear door where he noticed spots of water on the floor and crouched down to examine them. Melted snow? Had someone’s boots carried it in? “Over here,” he called to the others. “Back here.”
Skirting the small puddles, he gave the door a hard shove. It swung partway open and stuck there. Through that opening Clay could see a uniformed cop climbing the incline toward one of the outlying cabins. Who? Why? Had Wright sent him?
“Everybody. Look,” Clay shouted, pointing. “Who’s that, and what’s he doing up there?”
Nobody seemed to know. Since they had all entered the lodge at the same time, a lack of information made sense. “Abe, run back and ask the chief if he sent other uniforms to search the forest,” Clay ordered. “The rest of you, follow me.”
Clay was well aware he had no authority. Nevertheless, he gave orders as if he were commanding his former security unit in the air force. That sufficed. A couple of the troopers trailed after Abe Matthews while three more stuck with Clay. As long as they didn’t try to stop him he was glad for the backup.
The cop above not only reached the small cabin, he ran up onto the porch and was greeted by a door opening to admit him.
“Take cover,” Clay said firmly. “Something’s off.”
Expecting gunfire, he continued climbing by zigzagging from tree to tree, always keeping a solid trunk between himself and the cabin.
Tracks in the snow and mud led straight to the building where he’d spotted the cop. The desire to see a smaller set of prints among the others was so strong it made Clay wonder if he was imagining the imprints of Sandy Lynn’s boots.
Just then, a piercing scream echoed off every tree, every rock, every patch of ice and snow, making the hills seem as if their very substance was in agony.
Clay broke cover and ran straight for the cabin, his heart racing, his feet pounding the slippery ground. He faltered once. Twice. He recovered quickly, pushed himself up and went on. Men were shouting behind him.
He raised his gun and worked the slide to chamber a live round.
His guttural cry of “San-dy!” was so emotional it surprised even him.
* * *
A lot was happening around Sandy Lynn that she didn’t understand. Her ex had dragged her outside, as she’d hoped, and silenced her with a single blow, but that didn’t keep her from picking out one special voice among all the others. Clay!
The cop who had been so readily accepted by Charles looked familiar. Despite her tension and fear, she knew she’d met him at the hospital in Springfield. What was he doing here in Arkansas? And why wasn’t Charles treating him like an enemy?
Head pounding and vision blurred, limbs quaking and
weak, Sandy Lynn curled up on the ground, knees to her chest, and tried to recover while she listened.
Charles was laughing. “Good thing I looked before I shot when you showed up,” he taunted the officer.
“You’d better watch it,” the cop warned. Hearing him speak provided enough info for Sandy Lynn to recall his name, which proved to be an oxymoron, since it was Allgood and he was all bad.
She didn’t move. What in the world was going on?
“What do you want,” Hood asked with evident rancor.
“That girl. I’m gonna be a hero and rescue her to prove what a great cop I am.”
“In a pig’s eye.”
“Hey, you owe me. I told you where to look, didn’t I?”
“Not this last time,” Hood snapped. “I found her myself.”
From her position on the icy forest floor it was impossible for Sandy Lynn to tell whether the two men were actually aiming directly at each other, but it sure looked as if they were. She knew it was wrong to wish either of them harm but if the choices of who got hurt widened to include Clay, it was no contest in her mind.
Distant voices echoed. The two thugs who had been helping Charles fled. Revving of motorcycles followed. Sandy felt a strong pull on her arm and struggled against it.
“Stand up and come with me or I’ll shoot you where you lay,” Charles yelled.
Allgood made a grab for her other arm. “No. Give her to me!”
Strung between the two like a rag doll, Sandy Lynn managed to free herself from both and stagger backward.
Allgood also backed up, taking a shooter’s stance on the uneven ground with a safe distance between himself and the escaped felon.
That was when she saw Clay round the corner of the cabin. He was alone, although there was enough commotion behind him that she knew more help was close by.
Allgood took his eyes off Hood. Recognition lit his eyes. He whirled to aim at Clay.
Positioned slightly uphill and to Clay’s right, Sandy Lynn anticipated what was about to happen and launched herself toward the man she loved, not thinking of herself for an instant.
There was a bang, a flash to her right and a passing blur at almost the same moment.
She landed before her scream died back. A tremendous weight pressed her into the rocky ground. Was this what it felt like to die? There was no pain to speak of, although she was having terrible trouble breathing.
A gentle voice called her name. She tried to rise, to answer, and failed. Other people were there now. Their shuffling and shouting mingled with her own pulse beats. A pulse! She still had a pulse! Praise God, she was alive.
The weight eased. Someone was lifting Sandy Lynn, cradling her, talking to her. “Sandy Lynn. Are you hurt?”
It took a couple of deep breaths for her to regain her speech. “I don’t know.” She glanced at her hands and saw blood. “Am I shot? It doesn’t feel bad.”
“I don’t think so,” Clay said, lifting her in his arms and stepping away. Charles lay below, on the ground, unmoving. It was Clay she’d meant to spare so how had her ex become involved? And what had happened to Allgood?
A brief glance answered that question. The rogue cop was being physically restrained by state troopers and was babbling incoherently about self-defense.
She replayed the previous moments in her mind, recalling the blur she’d barely noticed. Had that been Charles? Why?
Tears spilled down her cheeks and she looked up. “Did—did he try to save me?”
“Looked like it to me,” Clay said, nodding. “We’ll never be able to ask him, but I like to think he had a little good in him. Nobody is all bad. Not even the worst of us.”
“Unbelievable.” It was barely a whisper.
“If he could hear me I’d thank him,” Clay told her with tenderness.
Sandy Lynn thought she detected a break in his voice and clung to his neck while he carried her away from the scene of the fatality, all the while raining kisses down on her hair and forehead. It took all her remaining fortitude to battle the urge to lift her face and offer her lips for one last, beautiful experience. But she could not. Not now. Not ever. Everything was over in more ways than one. Charles would never again harm her. And, hopefully, Allgood would confess to framing Clay for theft.
Sadly, her time with Clay was also at an end. He would go back to the life he’d had and she would return to teaching after the holidays. There could be no other ending to their story, to the love that was never meant to be. Without her, he could look forward to building the big, happy family he’d always wanted. With her, that was impossible. Yes, she loved him enough to let him go, and no, it wasn’t going to be easy.
All the way back down the hill to the cars she continued to weep tears of regret, of guilt, of thanksgiving, and for the love she knew she must deny. For Clay’s sake. Because she loved him so much.
EPILOGUE
Sandy Lynn escorted Enid home in a taxi on Christmas Day. Their landlord had readied the apartment above their prior one and had told Sandy that Clay no longer resided on the ground floor.
Enid’s brown eyes widened with glee when she stepped through the door. The tree was magnificently adorned with lights, ornaments and tinsel streamers. There were holly garlands draped over every door, and live poinsettia plants bloomed in decorative pots in the living room, kitchen and dinette. She grabbed Sandy Lynn’s hand. “Oh, honey, it’s beautiful. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble. It must have taken you half the night to put this up.”
Sandy Lynn was almost struck dumb. “I—I—I didn’t.” Her jaw gaped in wonder. “Maybe the landlord decorated when he and his wife moved our belongings.”
A man’s answer echoed from the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “It was elves. Really big ones.”
Enid laughed. Sandy Lynn was too shocked to do anything other than smile, particularly because she wasn’t sure she recognized the voice. She did, however, have the presence of mind to help her roommate to the sofa and settle her with care.
Before she had a chance to investigate, Abe Matthews popped around the corner into full view. He was wearing a green felt elf’s hat with bells on it. Sandy Lynn managed a smile for him. “Thank you. It really is lovely. We both appreciate it, don’t we, Enid?”
“I’ll say.” She patted the couch cushion next to her. “Come take a load off, Mr. Elf. You must be worn out doing all this by yourself.”
Grinning, he joined her. “I had a little help.”
“Oh, you did, did you?” Enid was grinning from ear to ear, her expression less one of surprise and more one of self-satisfaction.
Sandy Lynn rolled her eyes. “All right, where are you, Clay? You know how I feel about putting up decorations. Come on out and take your punishment like a man.”
“Who? Me? I’m just an innocent elf.” Matching green felt hat in hand instead of perched rakishly on his head the way Abe’s was, he emerged from the hallway.
“Innocent? I do understand why you and Abe did it, though, so I’ll cope. For Enid’s sake.”
“Maybe by next year...” Clay began.
Sandy Lynn stopped him. “No. Not next year. As soon as Enid is back to normal, I’m going to move away and find a job in an area that doesn’t hold so many bad memories.”
“What about the good memories?”
“They all come with dark shadows. It’s best if I just leave.”
“You don’t have to. I’m being reinstated, so you won’t have to be ashamed of me.”
“I never said I was.” She didn’t like the intense concentration she was getting from all three of her companions.
“We can start over if you want,” Clay offered. “You know. Date. Like normal people. Get to know each other better.” He hesitated before taking several steps closer and reaching for her hands. “Don’t you believe that God brought us back together? E
verybody else does.”
Sandy Lynn pulled away, turned her back, bit her lower lip and wondered how she was going to explain her decision in front of witnesses, particularly such interested ones. “I plan to stay single for the rest of my life so you may as well give up.”
“I’m never giving up on you, lady. Never. Got that?”
She sensed his approach and felt his light touch on her upper arms. “No! Just no, okay.”
“Why?” Clay released her and stepped back. “I told you my legal problems were solved. Allgood confessed as part of a plea bargain and all charges against me were dropped so an association with me won’t negatively affect your teaching job.”
“It’s not that. I still don’t understand all the ins and outs of what’s been happening. What does that have to do with my ex?” Sandy Lynn asked.
“I admit that had me stumped, too, until I learned that Charles was almost as much a pawn as you were. Allgood fed him information about you in the hopes that my helping you with your problems would keep me too busy to figure out who was framing me.”
He paused and smiled. “So, what are you doing for dinner tomorrow night?”
“It’s not that simple. You don’t understand.”
“I will if you explain,” Clay said tenderly. “Please?”
From her place on the sofa, Enid broke in. “If you don’t explain I’m going to tell him, honey. It’s only fair. He’s obviously crazy about you.”
Sandy Lynn whirled on her friend. “Don’t you dare.”
As Abe slipped his arm around Enid’s shoulders and she leaned into him for moral support, Clay intervened by facing Sandy Lynn and saying, “She doesn’t have to spell it out. I read the trial transcripts. I know about the damage Hood caused and I want to spend the rest of my life helping you get over the trauma.”
Christmas Vendetta Page 18