Slow Burn (Rabun County Book 1)

by Lisa Clark O'Neill

  Now that he could start it, Sutton headed outside to his truck. He’d been leaving it parked in the driveway so that people knew someone was there to appease his mom, but considering everyone in the county knew this house belonged to the sheriff – former sheriff – Sutton couldn’t imagine anyone would be dumb enough to attempt to break in. Of course, you never knew. People were plenty stupid.

  Not even trying to stifle the yawn which escaped him, he executed a three-point turn and pulled down the driveway. As a teen, he’d often tested his mom’s nerves by insisting on backing down, despite the curve and not insignificant grade, but he was too mature now, or at least too tired, for that nonsense. And without a parent sitting beside him to shriek and jump, or – in his dad’s case – give him a death stare, it wasn’t quite as much fun.

  As his parents’ place sat at the peak of the hill, the proverbial king of the mountain, Sutton shifted the truck into low gear before starting down. Having spent so much time in Florida, and more recently Atlanta, he’d almost forgotten what a bitch it could be navigating these steep, winding roads. Again, that was something that had held a lot more appeal to him as a kid. Back then, it was more of a challenge to his developing driving skills. Now, he mostly considered the cost of replacing his brakes.

  Freaking adulthood.

  The old Driscoll place, which had been empty for years, sat near the bottom of the road. An elderly widow, even older than Mary, lived there when Sutton was a kid. She liked to crochet things, or maybe it was knit. Anyway, Sutton recalled a weird ruffled cover appearing on the extra roll of toilet paper in the downstairs bathroom – a gift from Missus Driscoll – and the look on his dad’s face when he’d seen it. Afterwards, it became a family joke, designed to torment the sheriff. Someone, Sutton still wasn’t sure who, had used it as a hat on his dad’s prize-winning bass, which was mounted on the great room wall. And Willow, Sutton’s younger sister, once wrapped it up as a Father’s Day gift.

  Smiling at the memory, Sutton felt a twinge of nostalgia for old Missus Driscoll. Her nearest kin hadn’t had any interest in the house after she passed, holding onto the property merely for tax purposes and whatnot. As a result, the place – old to begin with – began the inevitable process of falling down. His dad complained about having to chase off vagrants a time or two, but in recent years it had reached such a dilapidated state that most people steered clear.

  Except, apparently, for this durn girl and her dog.

  Sutton spotted the car, flashers blinking, but there was no sign of Mary.

  The gravel driveway had long since succumbed to both weeds and erosion, but Sutton remembered its location. Steering in that direction, he thanked God for four-wheel drive. Even with it, the contents of the back seat bounced around like jumping beans.

  Coming to a stop next to the house, he turned off the ignition, grabbed his flashlight. And just to be on the safe side, removed his pistol from the locked glove box and tucked it into the holster inside his boot.

  He doubted Mary had masterminded a plan to abduct or rob him, but you never knew. Not to mention that cellars were favorite places for rattlesnakes and copperheads to hole up in the colder months. He had no intention of killing anything, but would if it threatened the girl or the dog. He’d been bitten by a venomous snake once during veterinary school, and didn’t recommend it.

  The house looked even worse up-close than it did from the road. He remembered it in, if not quite its heyday, at least a time when it was lived-in and cared for. Missus Driscoll, old as she was, always had bright flowers in pots on the porch and cheerful curtains in the windows. He was pretty sure she’d made those, too.

  Hearing voices, Sutton followed the sound to the back of the house, and spotted what had to be Mary, standing on a set of stone stairs, looking like an annoyed garden gnome. The shotgun, which she’d thankfully set aside, was almost as tall as she was. As she was currently shouting something through the open door at the top of the stairs, Sutton assumed that the duo in need of rescuing was somewhere inside. Not wanting to scare her and possibly cause her to fall, he waited until she stopped talking before clearing his throat.

  Mary had remarkably good hearing.

  She also had pretty good reflexes, because her hand shot toward her gun before she recognized him.

  At least, he hoped she recognized him.

  She narrowed her eyes. “You look like your mama.”

  Yeah, he heard that a lot. “She’s prettier.”

  “And shorter. I don’t recall you being so tall.”

  She probably hadn’t seen him since he was sixteen. “I made sure to eat my vegetables. You said there’s a girl stuck somewhere?”

  “I’m right here,” came a second, muffled voice. “Although the girl part is debatable.”

  “Are you injured?” he called out, moving toward the bottom of the steps.

  “Some bumps and bruises. Nothing major.”

  “What about your dog?”

  “He seems to be okay. He’s been shivering, but I don’t know if that’s because he’s scared or because he was down here overnight.”

  Overnight? Sutton had driven past this place probably close to one a.m., and he hadn’t seen her car. What the hell was she doing out driving around with her dog in the wee hours of the morning? Definitely not leaf-peeping.

  But he wasn’t going to get into all that right now. The first order of business was to assess the situation and see if he could get her out.

  “Ms. Mary, do you mind if I trade places with you?”

  “That’s why I called you, aint it?” Picking up her shotgun from where it leaned against the house, she clomped in boots that looked two sizes too big down the stairs.

  Sutton started to assist her, but she shot him such a venomous look that he quickly pulled his hand back. Despite being somewhere in her eighties – hell, maybe her nineties – Mary appeared to be in damn good shape, as well as fiercely independent.

  Hiding an amused smile, which he was fairly certain she wouldn’t take kindly, Sutton waited until she was safely on the ground before climbing the stairs himself. The utility room at the top was a later addition to the house, although the washer and dryer had been removed, whether by family or opportunists. An old laundry tub still stood, along with cabinets in which he spied canning jars, some of them filled with contents that had long since spoiled. Sutton was struck by the sudden memory of Missus Driscoll, wearing a housecoat much like the one that hung on the back of the door, giving him jars of pickles to take to his mom. The older woman always had a kitchen garden, and liked to share its bounty with her neighbors. Nostalgia washed over him, followed by an unexpected sense of loss.

  Pushing that to the side for now, Sutton studied the linoleum-covered floor, and the rather large hole in the center of it. Glancing up, he noted the corresponding hole in the roof, which had obviously allowed rain to enter and water to accumulate. Both the subfloor and the linoleum itself had subsequently succumbed to rot. Not trusting any of what remained to hold his weight, Sutton held onto the doorframe with one hand and aimed his flashlight toward the hole with the other.

  “Hello?”

  Fingertips appeared near the top of the hole, fluttering in a wave. “Hi there.”

  So, she was able to stand. And unless she was exceptionally tall, the fact that her hand nearly reached the floor above suggested that the space beneath the room wasn’t that deep. Probably seven feet at most. Which was good, because the ground sloped away on the other side of the house to such a degree that he’d been worried the cellar floor would be much lower.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Adeline.”

  “Adeline, I’m Sutton McCloud. Are you sure you’re not injured?”

  “Does my pride count?”

  Sutton smiled. “I don’t think I have a salve for that with me. You said your dog is shaking. Is its fur wet?” The creek ran beside the house, and some dogs purely loved water, no matter what time of year. Even though it hadn’t
gotten that cold last night, hypothermia was still possible.

  “No.”

  Sutton was still concerned that he hadn’t heard any vocalizations from the dog. “Is he – or she – acting more lethargic than normal?”

  “I don’t know? I mean, he’s a puppy, so I guess they’re normally pretty active, but I just met him twenty minutes ago.”

  Sutton frowned. “I thought you said he’d been down there all night.”

  “Well, I’m assuming. I…. stopped alongside the road to try to get my bearings, as I’m not from around here, and when I stepped out of the car to see if I could get some reception, I heard him crying. Someone tied him up in a trash bag and tossed him.”

  The curiosity Sutton had been feeling washed away under a black wave of anger. “I see. And you fell through when you tried to rescue him.”

  “That about sums it up.”

  Sutton took a moment to get his temper under control. Adeline was conversing coherently, and seemed calm under the circumstances, but he knew how easy it was for calm to turn to panic in a rescue situation – even one as seemingly benign as this. Keeping his tone upbeat and his own emotions in check was psychology one-oh-one for first responders. And while he may only be a volunteer, he’d taken his training seriously.

  “That was a brave thing to do.” And possibly foolhardy, but he wasn’t going to mention that. “Can you tell me if you’re able to access the rest of the basement from where you are? Maybe a door or a vent or something?”

  “Ah… no. The walls are pretty much solid rock.”

  That’s what he’d been afraid of, given that the room was an addition. If she’d been able to enter the main basement, he would have been able to get her out through the exterior bulkhead doors on the other side of the house.

  Since that wasn’t an option, he had to figure out how to bring her back up. He was concerned that any more pressure on the subfloor would cause the entire thing to collapse. Given the weight of the sink and those cabinets, such an occurrence could cause serious injury to the occupants below. Studying the space, he hit upon an idea.

  “Adeline, I want you to hang tight, okay? I’m going to my truck to get a couple things.”

  “I’ll try not to run off.”

  Appreciating her sass – which was always preferable to hysterics – Sutton turned and started down the stairs.

  And then froze, staring.

  Mary looked up from where she’d been scrolling on her up-to-the-minute smart phone.

  “What?”

  Sutton shook his head. “Absolutely nothing.”

  He descended the rest of the steps and then started around the corner before turning back. “Do you have decent reception down here?”

  She snorted. “Have to go halfway up the hill for that, unless you’re connected to Wi-Fi.”

  Amazing. Since there was clearly no Wi-Fi here, Sutton wondered what she’d been doing on her phone, but then decided it was none of his business.

  When he reached his truck, he shoved the first-aid kit, a towel, some rope, and a water bottle into the backpack he habitually carried, before pulling it on. Then he went around to the back to retrieve the extension ladder he’d been using to work on the building he’d rented for his clinic.

  Taking the opposite path around the house because the ground was more even, Sutton dragged the ladder to the back.

  Mary gave him a side-eye. “That’s your plan? A ladder?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Ignoring the skepticism radiating from her in waves, Sutton set down his backpack. After visually measuring the space one more time, he climbed the steps.

  “Adeline?”

  “Present.”

  He found himself smiling again.

  “I want you to position yourself and the puppy away from the walls, as close to the center of the existing hole as you can.” That way if the floor did cave in, they wouldn’t be under the cabinets.

  “Okay.”

  Extending the ladder, Sutton slid it horizontally across the room, keeping the end lifted so that it didn’t put pressure on the floor. The construction of the addition was such that the interior framing was exposed, as they hadn’t bothered with drywall or insulation. That gave him a flat piece of wood, directly over the stone foundation, on which to rest the ladder’s weight.

  When he had it secured, he tested it by getting down on all fours and bouncing a few times. Reassured that it would hold, he grabbed his backpack and then began to crawl toward the hole, wishing for knee pads. Reaching the edge, he looked down.

  “Adeline, I presume?”

  Although the light was dim, he could see her answering, if sardonic, smile. “Good guess.”

  He briefly processed her appearance – disheveled, shoulder-length hair in a hue of a red that was surely not natural, black-rimmed glasses. And a puffy white jacket, out of the top of which stuck a puppy’s white and brown head.

  He guessed she’d put him inside her coat to keep him warm. And it also explained why the dog was so quiet. He’d fallen fast asleep.

  Sutton opened his backpack, brought out the towel.

  “If you don’t mind wrapping him in this?”

  When she unzipped her jacket, the puppy woke up and almost immediately started crying. But Adeline cooed nonsense to him in that soothing tone that seemed instinctive to most women, and she soon had him swaddled.

  Sutton reached down, and Adeline hesitated.

  “I promise not to drop him.”

  “It’s not that,” she said. “I… I don’t think I can lift my left arm over my head. I banged up my shoulder on the way down.”

  Sutton considered that, and then took off his flannel. “I’m going to button this and tie it up like a pouch. You put him inside, and I’ll pull him up. Deal?”

  “If you think that will work.”

  “I do.” Pulling the bottom through one of the gaps between buttons, he tied the tails into a knot. Holding onto the shirt by the cuffs, he watched as she tucked the puppy inside, and then he lifted him out of the hole.

  “Hey big guy. You’re fine. You’re safe.”

  He could feel the animal trembling, and dipped his fingers beneath the towel to touch his fur, his skin. It was warm, so it was unlikely that he had hypothermia. However, Sutton decided as he then used his finger to open his mouth, found his tongue and his gums a bit sticky, he was borderline dehydrated.

  Not to mention scared. After being placed in a trash bag and discarded in a dark hole, Sutton couldn’t say he blamed him.

  Anger surged again, with a sizeable accompaniment of disgust, but he’d have to process that later. He still had a woman to get out of the cellar.

  “I’ll be back,” he told her.

  Sutton focused on keeping the puppy secure as he backed across the ladder. When he was safely at the top of the stone steps, he removed the shirt, opened the towel and did another quick check. No obvious defects or injuries, although the animal would need a full exam in order to be sure. After wrapping him back up, Sutton grabbed the water bottle from his backpack. When he turned, he found Mary standing behind him.

  “Give ‘im here.”

  Sutton handed over the puppy. And the old woman’s face, which seemed set in a permanent scowl, softened to the point that she looked ten years younger.

  Sutton handed her the water bottle. Pedialyte would be a better choice, but he didn’t have any on hand.

  “See if you can get him to –”

  “I’ve been raising animals since before your daddy was a gleam in his daddy’s eye. I know what to do.”

  Okay then. Assured that the dog was in good hands, Sutton crawled back inside.

  “How’re you doing, Adeline?”

  “Aside from being covered in dirt and spiderwebs and stuck in a hole in the ground? Just peachy.”

  He smiled as he removed the rope from his bag. “Other than your shoulder, any other mobility issues, muscle weakness, problems with balance?”

  “Is this a r
escue or a checkup? No other issues,” she said, displeasure evident in her voice. “Physically, anyway. Although I could make an emotionally-charged argument for why houses should be built flat on the ground.”

  “That only works if the ground itself is flat,” he said, keeping her chatting as he began tying knots and making loops.

  “Which is why sane people live in Florida.”

  He paused, glancing over the edge of the hole. He recalled Mary saying something about out-of-town plates, but he hadn’t given the SUV more than a cursory glance when he arrived. “You’re from Florida?”

  “Sarasota.”

  “I went to school in Gainesville.”

  “Go, Gators.”

  “Seriously? You, too?”

  “Small world,” she said, and though she sounded chipper enough this time, Sutton could hear her teeth chattering. Maybe it was the cold, maybe the stress of the situation, or maybe she was hurt worse than she let on. Whatever the cause, he needed to get her out of there as quickly as possible.

  After several more minutes of small talk designed to set her at ease, Sutton tied off the last knot and double-checked his handiwork. Determining that it was solid enough, he leaned over the edge of the hole.

  “Okay Adeline, here’s what we’re going to do. First of all,” he grabbed his flannel, looping the sleeves together. “I want you to use this as a sling to keep your left arm immobile. If it hurts to move it, we want to avoid that.”

  She stared at it a moment, and then lifted her right arm. Sutton handed her the shirt, and then talked her through positioning it.

  “That’s as good as it’s going to get,” she said after several readjustments.

  “You’re doing great. Now, I’m going to tie this rope ladder onto the actual ladder, and you can use it to climb up. The caveat is that the rope I had wasn’t as long as I needed it to be, so the rungs aren’t as wide as I would have liked. Coupled with your injured shoulder, that might make balancing tricky. That’s why I’m going to reach down to help lift you out.”

  She hesitated a beat. “Lift me out.”

  “Well, you’ll be climbing, I’ll be pulling. It’ll be a team effort.”