Vows of Silence

by Debra Webb

  “I’m still not feeling so good about this, Lace.”

  Lacy held up a hand. “Shush, Mel. We’ve agreed. Let’s not go backward.” An ache echoed through her. “Remember, we’re doing this for Cassidy and Kira.”

  Melinda nodded.

  “You back out of the garage and drive to the Jacksons’. If you pull up next to Kira’s rental, the passenger side of your car will be camouflaged from the street.” She remembered that from the other night. She wasn’t sure why the rental hadn’t been turned in yet. Maybe the family was still too distraught. “Get out and go in at the side entrance, and before your tail can get a good view you’ll be inside. He’ll assume he simply didn’t see me get out because of the bushes.”

  “Okay. What do I tell anyone who asks about you?”

  “Tell them I have a migraine.” Lacy hadn’t suffered from a migraine in years, but most people didn’t know that. They would only remember that as a young teen she’d had a number of debilitating headaches.

  “When I have the suitcase I’ll call you and then you can meet me at City Hall or Rick’s house, wherever he is.”

  Melinda exhaled a heavy breath. “Well, let’s do it then.”

  Lacy hugged her. “I love you, Mel.” She wished she had said those words to Cassidy and Kira since coming back to Ashland, but she hadn’t. She knew they had known how she felt, but she realized now more than ever how fleeting life could be. A person should say what they feel…often.

  “I love you, Lace.” Melinda drew back, her eyes watery. “Please, please be careful.”

  Lacy smiled and struggled to hold back her own tears. “Time to go.”

  Melinda loaded into her car while Lacy quickly loosened the lightbulbs in the garage-door opener—the less light the better. Lacy stepped back into the deepest shadows of the garage as her friend sent the overhead door into the up position and prepared to back down her driveway.

  When the garage door closed once more, Lacy rushed inside the house and watched the street from between the slats of the blinds in the entry hall. Sure enough, no sooner had Melinda glided off down the street than a police cruiser lit out after her.

  “Worked like a charm.”

  Just in case, Lacy used the back door and stole her way around to her SUV. She tossed her shovel and flashlight into the back seat and headed for her grandmother’s farm just outside town. She stayed on the back streets in hopes of avoiding any police cruisers.

  Twenty minutes later she’d parked next to the old Oliver home place. The place where her father had grown up. Where he and her mother had lived the first few years of their marriage. And finally, where Lacy had enjoyed listening to stories told by her seemingly ancient grandmother as she rocked back and forth in her cane-back rocker on the shady front porch.

  No one had lived here in fifteen years, since her grandmother had passed away, but her parents kept the place up. Couldn’t bear to part with it. Lacy sometimes wondered if they expected her to come back and produce them a gaggle of grandkids. Both her mother and father were only children, and so was Lacy. But they had spoken fondly many times of having a little herd of grandkids.

  Rick popped smack into the middle of that thought.

  She shook her head to clear it. She had to be out of her mind. Maybe she was still in shock after losing her dear friends or maybe she was just slipping over the edge and didn’t know it yet.

  The moon, full and round and hanging almost to the ground, lit her path as she walked past the house and across the massive backyard. They didn’t make backyards like this anymore. These days, most were scarcely big enough to hold a small patio.

  But this—she surveyed the moonlit landscape—was what one referred to as sweeping. An ocean of grass bordered by trees as old as time and as tall as giants.

  She’d walked this path a million times with her grandmother and always ended up in the same place, through the woods, across the cornfield and to the stream. Lacy had loved the stream in the woods on the other side of the field her grandmother had leased to a local farmer after her husband had passed away.

  Lacy made her way through the underbrush, weaving between the big old trees, until she reached the place where she and her grandmother had buried Trax, her older-than-dirt hound dog. That dog had taken up space on the front porch for as long as she could remember. And when Lacy was sixteen the old fellow had finally died. Two years later her grandmother had joined her beloved husband and hound dog in the hereafter.

  The family cemetery was at the far end of the property near a duck pond. Olivers for several generations were buried there.

  As much as she loved her grandmother, Lacy didn’t want to join them anytime soon.

  She stopped at the spot where she’d buried Charles’s suitcase ten years ago and stared down at the dead leaves and lush plants that had grown over the spot.

  Dropping to her knees, she said a little prayer for Cassidy and Kira. She wished again that they’d realized the truth years ago so they wouldn’t have had to live with this horrendous burden. But they’d stuck by their vow to never speak of it again. They’d stuck by one another.

  There was something to be said for that kind of loyalty. The sad thing was that in doing so they had protected a murderer. That murderer had almost succeeded in getting away with not one but at least three murders.

  Time to stop her once and for all.

  But what if the ring told them nothing? Pushing aside that doubt, Lacy jammed the shovel into the ground. It was harder than she’d expected. But it had been ten years. And she hadn’t forgotten how hard the digging had been that chilly night.

  She shuddered at the memory of the snow falling down around her. It almost never snowed in Ashland, but that night it had.

  Getting back to her feet, Lacy put her full weight behind the digging and that helped considerably. Another memory assaulted her. The blisters she’d had on her hands the next day.

  “Damn.”

  She should have thought to bring gloves, too.

  “No pain, no gain,” she mumbled as she thrust the shovel deep into the ground.

  The one other thing besides the icy temperature she recalled vividly from that night was the idea that she should bury the suitcase as deep as possible. She felt reasonably certain she would regret that decision before she was finished here tonight.

  But then, if she hadn’t, critters might have dug it up and dragged it off. She damn sure hadn’t wanted to take a risk like that.

  Grunting with each pound into the well-packed earth, she comforted herself with the knowledge that she might soon be able to nail the scum who had killed her friends. She couldn’t actually say whether this same person would have been the one to kill Pamela Carter, but there was a good possibility that whoever left that ring had killed Charles and murdered two of her best friends. Lacy wanted that person to pay for killing her friends. Neither Cassidy or Kira had had any idea that they were concealing the one piece of evidence that might lead the authorities to the real killer. So their deaths had been for nothing.

  Fury flamed deep in Lacy’s gut. She was the one who’d packed the suitcase. She would see that justice was done.

  The crack of a breaking branch jerked her attention to the right. She froze. Had someone followed her here? She didn’t remember seeing any lights in her rearview mirror.

  She grasped the shovel’s handle more tightly and drew it up to her shoulder in preparation of swinging it like a bat.

  “Lacy?”

  Lacy wilted with the withdrawal of adrenaline. “Mel, what the hell are you doing here?”

  Melinda cut through the trees into the small clearing where Lacy worked. “I couldn’t let you do this alone.” She clicked on her flashlight and shone it on the ground. “Why don’t you let me dig awhile?”

  Lacy released a lungful of tension. “You’re here. I guess you might as well.” She passed the shovel to Melinda. “I won’t even ask how you managed to get away without being followed.”

  Melinda pl
unged the shovel into the ground. “I borrowed a car from one of the guests.”

  Lacy shook her head. “What’s a grand-larceny charge after you’re sent up the river for concealing evidence in a homicide?”

  Melinda hesitated in her work. “I hope that’s a rhetorical question, because I have no idea.”

  “Just dig.”

  A clunk accompanied the shovel’s next lunge into the earth.

  “I think maybe I hit something.”

  Lacy got back on her knees and slowly moved the flashlight’s beam over the area. A black nylon corner jerked her attention back to the spot when she passed it.

  “That’s it.”

  They both started to dig then, using their hands, anticipation driving their movements.

  When they had unearthed the black overnight bag, they sat back on their haunches and caught their breath.

  “You poke around inside,” Mel said. “If we turn it upside down we might lose the ring in the darkness.”

  Lacy nodded. “Good idea.”

  The zipper resisted at first but finally surrendered to her tugs. The sound buzzed in the night like a cluster of dry flies fighting to escape their shells.

  She reached inside and dug through the damp, musty articles of clothing. She’d found the ring after packing the other stuff. It should be close to the top…unless it had filtered down to the bottom.

  Finally her fingers encountered the cold, smooth circle of gold.

  Her heart jolted. “Got it.”

  She pulled her hand out of the bag and opened it to display the ring lying on her palm.

  “It looks like a man’s ring,” Mel said.

  Holding her breath, Lacy took it between her thumb and forefinger. “Hold the light steady, Mel.”

  Lacy tilted the ring, peered at the inside of the band that represented love and commitment.

  “Can you see anything?” Mel wondered aloud.

  “I see what might be an—”

  “Give me the ring.”

  Lacy’s head came up at the fierce order.

  She blinked, unable to reconcile what her eyes saw with what her mind knew.

  Melinda spoke first. “Renae?”

  Renae Rossman. She stood over them, a gun in her hand.

  Lacy squeezed her eyes shut just for a second to make sure she wasn’t seeing things.

  “Give me the ring,” Renae commanded.

  Lacy felt her hand moving toward the other woman’s.

  “This can’t be your ring, it’s—”

  And then she knew. Renae had married the older man for his money, but she’d needed more. A younger lover…one who gave her what her much older husband could or would not.

  “Now stand up.”

  Lacy jerked at the harshly uttered words.

  “You and Charles were lovers.” Melinda’s words weren’t a question. Like Lacy, she had just come to terms with what Renae’s appearance meant.

  Renae laughed hatefully. “We were more than lovers, sweet little Mel. I was his first. We’d been in love for years before he screwed up and got you pregnant.”

  Lacy slowly got to her feet, the fingers of one hand curled around the shovel’s handle. Melinda was already standing and, judging by her stance, was madder than hell. Lacy looked at the gun, then at Renae. Somehow this just didn’t fit, but fear kept her from being able to analyze what it all meant.

  “If you were lovers, why did you kill him?”

  Renae’s full attention, including the weapon in her hand, swung toward Lacy. “How dare you ask me that?”

  “What about Cassidy and Kira?” Melinda demanded. “Why did you kill our friends?”

  “Because you all deserve to die for what you’ve done,” she snarled. “And now that I have my ring back, I won’t have to worry about it turning up afterward. That little mistake has haunted me for ten years.”

  “You won’t have to worry about it turning up after what?” Lacy ventured, her fingers tightening around the wooden handle. She had a pretty good idea what Renae meant.

  “After you’re dead.”

  Fight or flight zoomed through Lacy. She had to do something or this crazy woman was going to kill them.

  “Why would Charles want you?” Melinda countered. “He had all the young, beautiful girls he wanted.”

  Lacy held her breath and hoped Melinda hadn’t just sealed her fate.

  Renae glared at her but kept the gun trained on Lacy. “Fool. We were in love. I was prepared to leave Wes. We had it all planned out. Then he learned you were pregnant and the senator threatened to disinherit him if he didn’t marry you.”

  “If that’s true,” Lacy offered, easing a half step closer to Renae, “then why all the other women?”

  She lifted her chin defiantly. “Charles had a voracious sexual appetite. No one woman could have expected to be enough. But he loved me.” She sent a menacing glare in Melinda’s direction. “We made love and I begged him to run away with me. I’d even bought him a wedding band to prove I meant what I said. I had it engraved. Love, Renae. But he only laughed at me. I swore I’d never let him hurt me again.”

  Renae appeared to get lost in her memories for a moment and Lacy took advantage of what might be their only chance. She swung the shovel at Renae and screamed, “Run, Mel!”

  Rick arrived at the Jackson home as quickly as he could. He’d been stuck in a briefing with ABI. And then Nigel Canton’s body had been found, along with a confession typed and left for all to see on his computer screen. He’d admitted to killing Charles Ashland, Junior, and then trying to frame Lacy and her friends.

  Everyone, including the mayor and the senator, were relieved to learn the truth. But Rick had a bad feeling about the whole setup, setup being the key word. He would reserve judgment until the forensic folks were finished with their work, but this was way too pat for his comfort.

  The deputy watching Melinda and Lacy had informed Rick when the two went to the Jackson home. He’d figured that was okay considering, but the longer he thought about it, the more uneasy he’d gotten with the idea. He needed to see for himself that Lacy was safe.

  As soon as he arrived at the Jackson home, trouble met him at the street. Deputy Phillips was busy filling out a report on a stolen vehicle.

  “I’ve already put out an APB, Chief.” He shook his head. “It’s ridiculous when a person can’t even visit a grieving family without having their car stolen.”

  “Are Mrs. Ashland and Miss Oliver still inside?”

  Phillips nodded. “Yes, sir.” He pointed toward Melinda’s car. “I haven’t taken my eyes off that vehicle.”

  Apparently not, Rick mused, if another was stolen right under his nose. But then who would have expected a thief to waltz up to a wake and drive off in a car.

  “I’m going in for a minute,” he told his deputy.

  Not looking forward to the somberness inside, he made his way up the walk and across the porch. Kira’s folks were devastated, just as Cassidy’s had been. It was a damned shame.

  Mrs. Jackson’s sister welcomed him and asked if he’d like something to drink.

  “No thanks, ma’am. I just need to touch base with Lacy Oliver.”

  The woman frowned thoughtfully. “Kira’s friend?”

  Rick nodded.

  “I don’t believe I’ve seen her tonight.” She called out to another of the visiting family members. “Have you seen Lacy Oliver tonight?”

  Dread pooled in Rick’s gut.

  The other woman shook her head. “But Melinda was here for a little while. She left about an hour ago.”

  Rick was out the door and at the street in three seconds flat. “How long ago did you call in that stolen vehicle?”

  “We got it, Chief,” Phillips said. “County just found it over on one-nineteen parked at the old Oliver place.”

  Terror seized Rick’s insides. “You tell County to stay put. I may need them. I’m on my way.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Phillips sounded confu
sed, but Rick knew he would follow orders.

  “Dammit, Lacy,” he growled as he slid into his truck. “What the hell are you up to?”

  The best he recalled, no one lived at the old Oliver home place. It had been empty for more than a dozen years.

  As soon as he’d cleared the last intersection in town he floored the accelerator. Ten more minutes. That was all he needed.

  His phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket. “Summers.”

  “Chief.”

  Phillips.

  “County just reported gunfire in the woods behind the Oliver place. They’re ready to go in.”

  “Tell ’em to approach with caution. There may be two victims being held against their will out there.”

  He threw the phone aside and focused on driving. He had to get there before it was too late.

  Lacy ran through the brush, zigzagging through the trees as fast as she could.

  Melinda had run in the other direction.

  Lacy stilled and listened over the sound of her own breath sawing in and out of her lungs. She needed to make sure Renae followed her, not Melinda. Melinda had kids…she had to survive this.

  Nothing. Silence.

  Damn.

  She had to do something.

  “What’s wrong, Renae?” she shouted. “Can’t keep up?”

  The sound of brush being parted grew louder.

  A bullet whizzed past Lacy’s head, took a chunk of bark off a tree less than a foot away.

  She lunged deeper into the woods.

  At least now she knew Renae was after her and not Melinda.

  Lacy braced herself for the downward plunge as the landscape swept into a meadow. Her right foot twisted on a tree root and she went down in a flailing, rolling tumble. A tree trunk stopped her and pinned her right arm between the bark and her body. Pain seared upward from her elbow to her shoulder. Lacy bit down on her lower lip to hold back the scream of agony.

  The sound of running in the distance behind her had her scrambling to her feet. Fire raced up her arm. Broken, she decided.

  Didn’t matter. She had to keep going.