“Page twenty-one. See for yourself.”
Riley found the report. “I don’t think the investigation’s been canceled altogether, Doris. Just put on the back burner. That’s what the inspector told the reporter.”
“If I knows the police, that means it’s finished. We won’t ‘ear no more.”
Riley pointed out the article to Paul. He glanced through it.
“You’re probably right, Doris. It says that no evidence or witnesses have been found.”
“If they ain’t got nothin’, they can’t do nothin’, can they?”
“I suppose not,” Riley agreed reluctantly. “Are there any fresh eggs?”
“There’s a dozen in the cooler with your name on ‘em.”
“Thanks. You’re an angel. Your hens lay the best eggs in the world.”
Time passed uneventfully until Wednesday when they took their wills to Mr. McGrath for signing and witnessing. However, their spirits sank during the afternoon. Paul’s supervisor phoned; he was on night shift starting Friday at eight p.m. With only three more weeks at work, he wasn’t at all pleased.
Chapter Eighteen
So the Mystery Is Solved?
Paul left for work on Saturday soon after seven-thirty p.m. Riley hated these empty evenings and crossed her fingers that there was something worth watching on TV. She was lucky. A promising movie was listed for eight o’clock, leaving her plenty of time to get ready for bed before it started. Usually she and Paul slept naked, but when he was on the graveyard shift the bed felt cold and empty, so she put on a nightie—in this case a pale blue one. After the movie, there was nothing to do except tidy the kitchen and clean her teeth. By ten-thirty, she was fast asleep.
Without warning, the ceiling light came on. Riley opened her eyes and blinked. The first thing she saw was the glint of steel a few inches from her face. She was lying on her back with a long, curved knife pointing straight at her jugular. It was held by a black-gloved hand, which quivered menacingly. This was a nightmare—it had to be. In a few seconds, she knew it wasn’t.
Fear erupted into screaming panic, but before she could utter a sound a second gloved hand was clamped across her open mouth.
“You will keep quiet, Miss Barnett, or I’ll slit your throat.”
The face of the man who spoke was covered by a black ski mask. His words hardly registered in her mind but the black mask did and added to her terror.
“The bed covers,” snapped the voice.
A second person reached for her neck and ripped away the blanket and sheet. He or she also wore a black ski mask.
“I’m going to take my hand from your mouth,” said the man with the knife. “If you make a sound, I will kill you!”
By this time Riley was shaking and quite unable to speak or scream even if she had wanted to.
“Get on your feet!”
She couldn’t move.
The man slapped her face—hard. She still couldn’t move so the second intruder grabbed her hair and forced her from the bed. The pain was excruciating.
“Tie her to the chair as we discussed,” said the first man.
His accomplice let go of her hair and pushed her into a dining chair that must have been brought into the room. Within moments, a thick cord had been passed several times around Riley’s body, holding her hard against the back. As she gasped for breath, a handkerchief was stuffed into her mouth from behind.
“Put on the duct tape.”
A band of wide, gray tape was looped around her head and across her mouth to hold the handkerchief in position. She was forced to breathe through her nose. Riley expected a blindfold to be added to the choking gag, but the accomplice bent down and tied her ankles to the chair legs. One of the knots was pulled so tight that she writhed in agony. The man with the knife slid it into a sheath at his belt as his assistant turned to face him.
“Two minutes on the button,” said a male voice. “Lucky for the weatherman he’s on duty, eh? Otherwise, I’d have shot him.” He patted a bulging pocket in a loose, brown jacket.
Riley’s stomach heaved. As her brain began to function better, she realized how desperate her situation was. But at least Paul was at work, thank God!
“Come on,” said the first man. “We’d better get down to the basement.”
He bent over Riley. His dark eyes bored into hers but he said nothing.
The second man turned out the light as they both went into the living room. He left the door open.
In spite of her acute discomfort, Riley became aware of odd noises coming from below—a thump as if something had been knocked against a wall, immediately followed by a metallic clatter. Then the beam of a flashlight shone into her eyes for a moment.
“You go ahead,” said the man with the knife. “I’ll cut the phone line on the way.”
Riley heard the front door slam. Soon after that came the sound of voices as the two men reached the basement. She listened carefully, at the same time pushing against the cords. This made her more comfortable but there was nothing she could do about the pain in her tightly bound ankle. In addition, she found the gag almost unbearable. The handkerchief had dried out her mouth and threatened to make her vomit. That could easily choke her to death.
Riley attempted to take her mind off all these things by trying to guess what was going on in the basement. She hadn’t heard any talking while she was being tied up, which suggested there was only one person down there. But now that the two men had arrived, a muffled conversation from the direction of the kitchen was clearly audible. It sounded as though there were three people in all, the same number that Paul had chased across the lawn over five weeks ago.
The conversation soon became louder and clearer until it was directly beneath the bedroom, then strange metallic scraping noises began. When someone spoke, Riley could make out the odd word or two. “Careful!” and “Watch what you’re doing,” were the clearest. There was little doubt that a woman had spoken the second sentence.
Next, there followed a series of very heavy thumps, which should have shaken the house, but didn’t. Finally, it dawned on her what was happening. The scraping noises were being made by somebody digging with a shovel. The thumps were caused by a sledgehammer or other heavy tool driving something into the ground or perhaps breaking up the lump of clift. The second conclusion seemed to be confirmed when the woman cried, “Get that bit there, it’s holding down the—”
Her last word was cut off by another thump.
Riley was just beginning to congratulate herself on her perspicacity, when without warning, she felt bile rising in her throat and began to choke. She tilted her head back in an effort to stop it. Slowly but surely the spasm subsided. The incident must have caused the release of a great deal of saliva, because the handkerchief was now saturated and the discomfort was more bearable.
The digging went on and on for what seemed like hours. Riley had no idea of the time until she found that by twisting her head, she could see the red reflection of the clock radio in the mirror on the bedroom door. It took a moment to read the back-to-front numbers—3:34 a.m. She didn’t know when she’d been awakened but guessed it was around three o’clock.
She was in the process of trying to force the handkerchief away from the back of her throat when there was a cheer from the basement, then a man shouted, “Spanish doubloons! Hundreds of them! We’re rich!”
Riley managed to bend her head forward so she could hear better.
“They’re Portuguese, you idiot,” exclaimed the woman.
“Shut up!” Riley recognized the voice of the man with the knife who was obviously in charge.
After that, the conversation became too quiet to understand. Judging from the lack of extraneous noises, the digging had ceased. A few minutes later, there was a short silence, which was broken by the front door opening. Almost at once, Riley heard low voices from inside the living room.
“I think we should kill her,” said the woman.
Riley panicked and st
arted shaking her head from side to side, even though there was no one to see her.
“No,” said the now familiar voice. “I cannot agree to that unless we have to. By the time she’s found, we’ll be long gone. Also, I’m going to take out the handkerchief. She might suffocate and that would be murder, just as if I’d used the knife. It was risky enough killing Hynes. He wanted too big a share. But the girl is no threat.”
Oh, shit! These people had murdered Jonathan! He’d been in with them after all.
Carpet-muffled footsteps came across the living room and stopped outside the bedroom.
“Shall I turn on the light?” said the woman. Her voice was unnaturally husky.
“Yes.”
Riley blinked for a minute. There were two people. She saw that the woman was wearing the same ski mask and gloves as the man, the curves of her figure outlined by a black sweater.
The man in charge stepped forward and peeled down the edge of the duct tape from Riley’s upper lip. He pulled out the handkerchief none too gently, then pressed the tape back in position. The relief was unbelievable.
At this point, the second man called from the open front door. “Come on! We’re behind schedule—time to go.”
The woman nodded to her superior, who turned off the room light as they left.
The next thing Riley heard was the sound of the front door being closed. Then an engine started, but it was very quiet and barely audible from her room. After that came the faint crunch of gravel followed by absolute silence.
Paul left Torbay Airport soon after eight a.m. on a typical fine fall morning. A veil of mist was still lying in a thin layer above mirror-calm Windsor Lake. All seemed well with the world, as well as it could be with his layoff due in a little over two weeks.
He entered the house—something was wrong, very wrong. Perhaps it was the total silence, with no sounds of Riley doing something or other, or perhaps it was plain sixth sense.
Intuitively, Paul went straight to the bedroom. He froze, horror-stricken at what he saw. Riley was sitting in a dining chair halfway between the bed and the window with her head slumped forward. A length of gray tape had been looped around it to form a gag. Many turns of bright yellow nylon cord held her body and arms tight against the back of the chair and her ankles were tied to the legs. She looked frail and vulnerable in her pale blue nightdress. All this took but a second to register. Paul was certain she was dead.
“Oh, God! Oh, God!” he cried, almost running across the room. “No, Riley! No!”
Without thinking, he lifted her head and saw that her eyes were closed, but her cheeks were warm to his touch. A faint tremor passed through her body. He saw it and felt it and relief flooded over him.
“Don’t panic,” he said aloud. “Keep calm.”
The first thing to do was get the tape off. As Paul leaned over and looked for the end, he could hear Riley breathing. The tape overlapped behind her head, so he peeled it apart very gently then pulled away the hair; it was a slow job because of the strong adhesive. He was about to look for some scissors to cut the more obstinate locks, when Riley’s head jerked and he heard a faint moan. Her eyes opened. At first, Paul saw terror then she relaxed.
“It’s okay, Riley-girl. The gag’s almost off and I’ll have your mouth free in a couple of seconds.”
By this time, Paul had almost eased the tape from one side of her head, and in a few short moments she was able to speak.
“Oh, my darling! Finally I can breathe again.” Riley’s voice was hoarse. “When I first saw you, I thought you were one of them!”
“I’ll call for an ambulance,” said Paul, not knowing what to do next.
“No, don’t! I’m okay—really. They didn’t hurt me except they tied the ropes too tight.”
“We’ll soon fix that. Hang on a moment while I get some scissors.”
Paul hurried to the kitchen. There was a medium-sized pair in the cutlery drawer, along with a set of sharp-pointed steak knives. He grabbed the scissors and a knife and returned to the bedroom.
“My ankle first,” said Riley. “It’s the left one. They tied it too tight and it hurts like hell.”
Paul knelt down. There was an ominous red stain on the offending cord. Swiftly but carefully, he cut it away. The skin was raw and oozing blood, but he would fix that later. He freed the other ankle then unwound the cord from her body.
Riley tried to stand but fell back in the chair.
“My legs don’t work,” she moaned. “It’s agony.”
“Poor baby!” said Paul. “I guess it’s because the muscles are stiff. Let’s get you on the bed.”
Evidently Riley’s arms had fared better; she put them around Paul’s neck and hung on while he lifted her at the waist and carried her to the bed. The loose duct tape from the gag looked incongruous as she lay back on the pillow.
Riley pointed a finger at it. “I’ll deal with that while you call the police. Tell them that some people wearing ski masks broke in and robbed the place. That ought to get a car here fast enough. And maybe John Kelly’s on duty.”
“I’ll ask for him.”
Paul hurried to the phone and dialed the Topsail Road station. An unfamiliar voice answered.
“My name is Paul Sutherland,” he replied. “Is Sergeant Kelly in? If so, please tell him there’s been a robbery at Riley Barnett’s house.”
“You’re in luck, sir. He just walked through the door.”
Paul was put on hold for a moment, then Kelly came on the line.
“What happened to Riley, Mr. Sutherland?”
“I haven’t had a chance to ask. I got home from night shift and found her gagged and tied to a chair. She was unconscious but came around in a couple of minutes.”
“Is she badly hurt? Have you called an ambulance?”
“Riley said not to. I’m pretty sure she’s okay.”
“I’ll be on my way, then. Shouldn’t take long with the siren.”
Paul hung up and returned to the bedroom. The duct tape lay on the floor beside the bed. Riley’s eyes were closed.
“Darling, I need some water. My mouth and throat are dried out. After that, I’ll tell you what happened.”
Paul filled a tumbler in the kitchen then sat on the bed and supported her while she gulped down several mouthfuls. As soon as she’d finished, he took the glass and stood back. She looked awful—pale and wan, her eyes dark-rimmed and her hair tangled.
“How are the legs?” he asked.
“A little better.”
“Good. I’ll massage them. But first, the ankle. As soon as I’ve fixed that, you’d better put on a housecoat.”
Paul fetched a bowl of water, tissues, a bandage and antibiotic cream.
“It was horrible,” said Riley as he began to clean the wound. “This man threatened me with a huge knife and said he’d cut my throat if I called out. And…and…”
“Why not wait until the police get here so you won’t have to go through it twice?”
Riley stared at the ceiling in silence.
Paul had just finished dressing the wound when a police car drove up. Her legs had recovered enough so that with Paul’s help she could stand and put on her housecoat. The doorbell rang as she got back into bed.
Paul found Sergeant Kelly and Constable Taylor waiting on the porch.
“Please come in,” he said. “Riley’s lying down. She’s quite traumatized.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll be as quick as we can,” said Kelly.
The three men seemed to fill the bedroom to capacity. Riley was relaxing against the pillows. She smiled weakly.
Paul indicated the dining chair. “That’s where she was and there’s the rope.” He nodded at the tangle of yellow cord on the floor.
“We’ll need both those items for evidence,” said Constable Taylor. “There may be prints on the chair.”
“They wore gloves,” said Riley.
Paul sat on the bed and held her hand while the two officers remained standin
g.
“I’ll only ask enough questions to give us something to work on,” said Kelly. “What sort of car did they have?”
“I didn’t see it,” Riley answered. “All I can tell you is that it had a very quiet engine.”
“That figures for obvious reasons. How many of them were there?”
“Three. Two men and a woman. One of the men threatened me with a large knife and the other said he had a gun, but I didn’t see it.”
“Could be the same bunch that you came up against, Mr. Sutherland,” Taylor commented.
“What time did this happen?” Kelly continued.
“Somewhere around three or three-thirty.”
“And what were they wearing?”
“Black ski masks so you couldn’t see their faces. The rest of their clothes—jackets, pants and sneakers—were all dark.”
The two policemen looked at each other. “It’s not much but better than nothing,” said Taylor. “Do you want me to call in?”
“Sure. I’ll come with you.” Sergeant Kelly turned to Riley. “I think we should get you to the hospital right away.”
“No thanks, John. I’m fine. Like I told Paul, they didn’t do much damage.”
“Well, it’s up to you, I guess.”
The two officers left the room.
Paul said, “Riley, my love, it’s important to have you checked over. How about I call the doctor? Maybe he can fit you in this afternoon.”
“Okay…I suppose so. The number’s on the front of the phone book.”
Kelly and Taylor were still talking on the radio in the police car when Paul returned to the bedroom.
“I told the doctor what had happened and he said he’d see you any time.” He went over to the bed and felt Riley’s forehead. Maybe she had a fever.
She pushed his hand away. “Stop worrying, darling. I’m all right.”
Paul was sitting on the bed when Kelly and Taylor came back. They looked down at Riley.
“Tell us what you can remember,” said the Sergeant, “but if you can’t handle it, we’ll leave it until tomorrow.”
“Well…like I said before, it was around three in the morning when someone turned on the light. I woke up to see a vicious-looking knife a few inches from my face. When I tried to scream, a hand was clamped across my mouth and a man said he’d cut my throat if I didn’t keep quiet. Then another man grabbed my hair. It hurt like hell and…and then…”
She Came From Away Page 20