THE PRODIGAL DAUGHTER

by Ginna Gray

  Maggie lifted her chin. "You don't have to thank me. I may not be your daughter, but Laurel and Jo Beth will always be my sisters."

  * * *

  Eighteen

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  On the drive from Tyler to Ruby Falls, Dr. Sanderson must surely have set a world land-speed record. His sedate sedan screeched to a halt in front of the house a mere twenty minutes later.

  He was livid when he saw Laurel, and would have gone after Martin himself if Maggie hadn't explained that he was already under arrest.

  Sheriff Dunwitty came and took Laurel's statement and Polaroid shots of her injuries.

  The news that Martin was in jail for beating Laurel spread through town like a firestorm. It was Ida Lou's day off, and she was in the City Café having dinner with her friend Clara when the story reached her. She left her meal half-eaten and hurried straight home. The dear old woman was so appalled and upset when she saw what Martin had done to Laurel that she broke down and wept.

  A few minutes after Ida Lou returned Maggie answered a knock at the terrace door and found herself staring into Dan's stern face.

  "How is she?" he asked without preamble.

  Maggie's first impulse was to put her head on his shoulder and seek comfort in his arms. Immediately furious with herself, she subdued the foolish weakness and stepped back and motioned for him to come in. "Battered and in a lot of pain, but she's still refusing to go to the hospital. Dr. Sanderson isn't happy about it, but he says her injuries aren't life threatening, and she'll recover with no permanent physical damage. Emotionally … who knows."

  A muscle rippled along Dan's jaw. "How is Jacob holding up?"

  Maggie glanced toward the recliner where Jacob lay among a pile of pillows, staring into space. His complexion had taken on a gray cast that worried Maggie. He looked like a defeated shell of a man.

  The emotions of a lifetime were not easily shed. Maggie held Jacob and Lily at least partly to blame for not seeing the signs that Laurel was being abused, and she was hurt and angry and struggling to come to grips with the past, but this was the man she had always thought of as her father, and no matter what, she still loved him.

  "Not well, I'm afraid. This has depressed him terribly, which isn't good in his condition."

  "I'll go see if I can distract him."

  When Dan crossed the room to talk to Jacob, Maggie stayed by the French doors and stared out at the dimly lit terrace, keeping her back to the room.

  Get a grip, will you. The man only pretended to love you so he could spy on you for Jacob. You can't still love him.

  But she did. God help her, she did.

  Maggie squeezed her eyes shut. Jeezlouise, you're pathetic, Mag. Really pathetic.

  Throughout the evening friends called to express their concern and inquire after Laurel. Most were also openly delighted that Martin had been arrested. His arrogance and overbearing manner had not earned him many friends in Ruby Falls.

  From those who called they learned that Rupert had been furious when he heard that his son was in jail, particularly so when he discovered he could not bail him out until morning.

  Typically, Rupert was insisting to anyone who would listen that the whole thing had been nothing more than a little domestic spat, that Laurel had simply overreacted. She was sure to drop the charges once she was thinking more rationally.

  That he would dare to cavalierly brush off his son's brutal attack in such a manner and imply that her sister was at fault infuriated Maggie. She was so riled she could not settle and roamed the house like a restless soul.

  Throughout the evening the entire family expected Rupert to descend on them in a rage. Maggie suspected that was why Dan appeared in no hurry to leave, and though his presence tore at her heart, for that, at least, she was grateful.

  By nine that evening there had been no sign of Rupert, not even a telephone call. Laurel was resting comfortably, thanks to Ned Sanderson, the calls had stopped and the household had settled down somewhat. The young doctor remained at Laurel's side, and apparently he had every intention of staying right there all night. Feeling superfluous and antsy, Maggie left the others discussing the situation and went to the office where she could possibly be of some use.

  When she entered her office she caught a whiff of a peculiar acetone smell and wondered what it could be. A cleaning solution they used down on the cannery floor, perhaps?

  Her gaze fell on the boxes of accounting papers that still littered the room and the printout of the company books lying spread open on her desk exactly as she'd left it, and the mystery smell was forgotten. She settled in the chair and picked up her examination of the books where she'd left off that afternoon.

  Twenty minutes later she was so immersed in the job she had no idea she was no longer alone.

  "I thought I'd find you here."

  Maggie jolted and her head jerked up. Her heart gave a hard thump when she saw who stood in the doorway. "Rupert! What're you doing here?" Her gaze shot past him. "How did you get past the security guard?"

  A sly smile curved his mouth. He reminded Maggie of a fox. "It was a simple matter to walk up behind that idiot and conk him over the head. Currently, he's out cold in the parking lot."

  Maggie's uneasiness went up several notches. She had known that Rupert would be angry, but it had not occurred to her that he would resort to violence. Although, in retrospect, she realized that it probably should have. Behavior like Martin's was usually learned. Like father, like son.

  Okay, fine, Maggie thought, and rose slowly, bracing for a struggle. She didn't relish the idea of exchanging blows with a man Rupert's age, but if he made a move to hurt her she would defend herself. "I see. What do you want?"

  "I came here to take care of a problem, once and for all."

  "Oh? And what is that?"

  "You. You've been a thorn in my boy's side for years. First you tried to stop Laurel from marrying him. Then you come back here and take over the cannery. Everybody knows that job should have been Martin's. He deserves to head this company. Come to that, the whole shootin' match should be his. Your sisters are incapable of taking over, and it turns out you're not even a Malone.

  "Now, not only are you trying to ruin the deal Martin's got going, you're interfering in his marriage. Dammit! My boy is sitting in jail right now because of you! Like some common criminal."

  "Martin is in jail because of what he did to my sister."

  "If it hadn't been for you she would never have filed charges or threatened him with divorce. She would never have had the nerve to defy him.

  "Well, you're through interfering in my boy's life."

  He pulled a small, lethal-looking pistol from his pocket and pointed it at her, and Maggie felt the first acid taste of fear in her mouth. "Rupert, for God's sake, what are you doing?"

  "Isn't it obvious? Once you're out of the picture, Laurel will do as she's told, and when Jacob dies the Bountiful deal will go through, as planned. It will require a bit of renegotiating and fancy footwork on Martin's part, thanks to you, but the deal can still be salvaged."

  Maggie stared at the obscene black hole in the end of the pistol barrel and panic nearly choked her. "Rupert, wait, this is insane."

  "I'm through waiting. I have to take action now before you ruin everything. You brought this on yourself, you know. I tried to force you to sell. I even tried to scare you away, but you wouldn't give up. You've left me with no choice."

  Maggie's mouth dropped open. "You were the man in the orchard? You put that rat in my bed, and slashed my tires and vandalized my car?"

  "Yes."

  Hardly able to take it all in, she shook her head. "And the contaminated food batches, the 'accidents' and breakdowns, the poisoned trees? That was you."

  "Of course. I used Martin's keys to get into the cannery during the middle of the night when no one was here." He smiled his foxy smile. "You never even suspected it was me, did you. Neither will anyone else. After all, I'm a pillar of the community, a respect
ed and influential man."

  "You'll never get by with murder. Guns can be traced through ballistics." Maggie glanced at the stairwell door and calculated her chances.

  "Oh, I'm not going to shoot you, my dear. Not unless you do something foolish and leave me no choice. Your death is going to be a tragic accident. You'll perish in a terrible fire.

  "And you can stop looking at that door. I've already blocked it, and the one at the bottom of the stairs, as well. I've also taken the precaution of disabling your sprinkler system. So you see, my dear, there's no escape. I suggest you say your prayers."

  "Rupert, wait!" she cried, but it was too late. Even as Maggie sprang across the room he flipped the lock on the inside of the door, stepped back into the outer office and pulled it shut after him. Maggie grabbed the knob and the small lever and tried to unlock the door, but it wouldn't turn.

  Her nose wrinkled as the pungent odor she'd noticed before suddenly became stronger. At first she couldn't figure out where the smell was coming from or what it was. Then her confusion turned to horror. Dear God! Rupert had squirted Super Glue into the lock.

  Maggie beat on the door with her fists. "Rupert! Rupert, let me out of here this minute! This is crazy! You can't do this!" She grabbed the knob and rattled it, but it wouldn't turn. "Rupert, dammit—" A new smell entered the room, and like a deer scenting trouble on the wind, she stilled and sniffed the air.

  A movement by her feet attracted her attention. She stared down at the wisps of smoke curling under the door, and fear grabbed her by the throat.

  Maggie ran to the stairwell door and tugged on the handle, but the lock was glued, as well. This, she realized, was the smell she'd detected earlier.

  Frantic, she darted back to the desk and snatched up the telephone receiver, but there was no dial tone. She jiggled the disconnect button but it was no use, and with a curse she slammed the receiver down. Panting, Maggie gripped the edge of the desk. Dear God, there was no way out!

  Panic threatened to suffocate her, but she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths and gritted her teeth. "Think, Maggie. Think! You're not going to die here tonight. You will not let him win. Dammit, think!"

  Forcing herself to breathe slowly, she looked around again and saw that smoke was now pouring in under the door. Already the room was hazy with it. "All right. First things first," she muttered, grabbing her sweater off the coatrack. She dropped to her knees and stuffed the soft garment under the door as lightly as she could. It didn't block the smoke completely, but it slowed it down to a seep and bought her time.

  "All right now, Mag, think logically. You can't get out through the doors and you can't bust through the paneling."

  Her gaze shot to the glass wall.

  She dashed across the office, placed both palms on the plate glass and tested it with a push. It was strong, but she might be able to break it.

  Her gaze dropped to the cannery floor, and her shoulders slumped. Even if she managed to break the window, a jump from this height would kill her.

  A movement at the far side of the cannery floor caught her eye. Dan!

  From that distance she couldn't see exactly who was down there working, but her gaze zeroed in on the shop light. It had to be him. It had to be.

  She called his name and knocked on the glass with both fists, but he didn't come. Maggie coughed and choked. She glanced over her shoulder and saw smoke pushing in under the door, faster and thicker than before. Now she could hear the crackle of the fire in the outer office and feel the heat of it.

  "Oh God, oh God." She banged on the glass wall with the sides of her fists. "Da-a-a-an! Da-a-a-an! Look up!"

  Another spasm of coughing seized her, bending her double. Kneeling low, she gulped in the cleaner air next to the floor. Finally, drawing in a deep breath, Maggie shot to her feet, snatched up the armless chair beside the desk and swung it at the glass with all her might. It hit with an impact that sent shock waves up her arms, but the glass held. Making desperate whimpering sounds Maggie swung the chair again and again and again.

  Dan heard the crash and looked up in time to see a chair come flying through the wall of Maggie's office amid a shower of broken glass. Turning end over end, it arced downward and crashed into a conveyor with a tremendous racket.

  "What the hell?"

  Without conscious thought, he started in that direction. Maggie appeared in the opening in the broken glass wall, and the hair on the back of Dan's neck stood on end. Clouds of gray smoke poured out all around her.

  Holy shit! The place was on fire!

  "Da-a-an! Dan, help me! Help me!"

  He broke into a run, his heart pounding. "I'm coming, sweetheart!" he shouted. "I'm coming! Hang on!"

  He ran for the door at the bottom of the stairs, intent on reaching her.

  "No, the lock is jammed with glue!" Maggie shouted when she saw where he was heading.

  Dan skidded to a halt beneath where she stood, the full implication of what she'd said sinking in. Bloody hell! This was no accident. Someone had locked her in and started a fire.

  He cupped his hands around his mouth. "Can you get out through Anna's office?"

  "No! That door is jammed, too, and the office is in flames! The only way out is to jump, but it's too far!"

  Damn. Somehow, he had to reach her. They had extension ladders, but they were in the equipment barn on the other side of the complex. There wasn't time to go after one. Desperate, he looked around for something to use to reach her. Then it came to him and he broke into a run.

  "Da-a-a-an!"

  "I'll be right back," he shouted over his shoulder. "Stay low and hang on."

  Arms and legs pumping, Dan streaked toward the loading docks on the other side of the cannery. As he ran he fished his cell phone out of his shirt pocket and punched in 911.

  Emergency calls in Ruby Falls were routed through the dispatch desk at the sheriff's office. Nancy Eggelston, who worked the desk on the night shift, answered on the second ring.

  "Nine-one-one. What's your emergency?"

  "Nancy, this is Dan Garrett," he shouted into the phone. "Malone Cannery is on fire! Get the trucks out here, fast! And send the sheriff, too. Maggie is trapped inside her office!"

  "They're on their way."

  Dan flipped the phone closed and stuffed it back in his pocket just as he reached the loading dock where all the outgoing conveyor belts converged. Without breaking stride, he jumped up into one of the forklifts that were used to move cases of canned goods to the warehouses a few hundred yards away. The one he chose was a reach truck that could lift heavy pallets of goods onto shelves thirty feet high.

  Dan cranked the engine and scooped up a double-decked pallet with the forks. He swung the machine around, opened it up to full throttle and headed back toward the offices on the other side of the building. "Go. Go, damn you!" he snarled at the machine, but even top speed seemed agonizingly slow.

  Thick smoke was billowing out into the cannery now. Dan ground his teeth and alternated between praying and cursing the poky forklift.

  When at last he backed the lift truck to a halt beneath Maggie's office he didn't see her at first, and fear squeezed his chest like a vise. "Maggie! Maggie, where are you?"

  "Here."

  She waved, and he realized that she was crouched on the floor with the heavy window drapery wrapped around her head.

  Dan sent the lift carriage climbing. "I'm going to raise this pallet as high as it will go," he shouted. "It won't quite reach you, but when it stops I want you to jump down onto it. Okay?"

  Jump? Maggie stared down at the wooden pallet, slowly rising toward her. He wanted her to jump onto that?

  She waited, her gaze fixed on the tiny platform, her heart clubbing against her ribs. Keep coming, keep coming, she silently urged, but when the lift arm stopped the pallet was a good five or six feet shy of the office floor. Maggie stared, and her parched throat tightened painfully. She knew the pallet was four feet by four feet, but from where she crou
ched it looked like a postage stamp.

  "Jump, Maggie. Jump!"

  Holding the heavy drapery over her lower face, she climbed to her feet and stood at the edge, staring down through the smoke at the minuscule square of wood.

  "Jump, Maggie!"

  She shook her head. "I can't!"

  "Yes, you can! You can do it, sweetheart!"

  "What if I miss? What if I can't hold on?"

  "You won't miss. You'd make it. C'mon, Maggie. You have to jump! There's no other way!"

  "But the impact might topple the lift."

  "It won't! I promise you, this rig is strong enough to take the strain. C'mon, baby. Jump!"

  He was right. She knew that. But the thought of jumping terrified her so much she wasn't sure she could move.

  She heard a crackling sound and glanced over her shoulder. Instantly, her terror multiplied tenfold. The fire had consumed her sweater and flames were licking up the inside of the door.

  Screwing up her courage, Maggie drew a shaky breath and leapt into space.

  With a strangled cry, she hit the pallet a little to the left of center. Her knees buckled on impact, and she went sprawling onto her belly, clutching for purchase, all the while making desperate little sounds.

  The instant she hit, the rig began to sway ominously. In what seemed like slow motion the whole rig began to teeter to one side, and Maggie screamed as she felt herself sliding. She flailed about for a handhold but here was nothing to grab on to but the flat boards. Her scream reached a crescendo when she slipped over the edge.

  In a last desperate effort she somehow managed to snag one of the pallet's side stringer boards.

  "Hang on! Hang on!"

  Dangling from the side of the pallet thirty feet above the concrete floor, her body swinging like a church bed on Sunday morning, Maggie clutched the stringer with both hands in a death grip. Whimpering and gasping, she looked down and saw Dan leaning hard to the other side and realized that he had managed to arrest the topple and bring the rig upright again.