Under Lock and Key

by Sylvie Kurtz

  “First thing in the morning. I’ll be back before dark.” He added lightly, “Need anything while I’m in town?”

  Melancholy dulled the green of her eyes as she rose, handed him the pad of paper and stowed the pen in its proper drawer in the desk. “Just answers.”

  He wanted to hold her again, to reassure her that he was tearing apart her world in order to put it back together on a stronger foundation. He shook his head and drained his coffee into the sink. Don’t go there, Blackwell. Keep to the facts. Facts don’t get you in trouble.

  But as he braced his arm against his aching rib to make his way back to his nightmare room, he knew he was already in too deep.

  Chapter Seven

  The nights in late May were still cool. These perfect evenings wouldn’t last much longer, reflected Melissa as she threaded her way silently up the tower stairs that led to her quarters. The closer she got to her destination, the slower her pace became. Uncertainty oscillated through her, causing her to stop and start.

  This was all Tyler’s fault, she thought as she touched her lips once more.

  Fire. Tyler’s kiss had been like fire. Melissa hated fire. Fire had taken her mother from her. Fire had robbed her of a normal life. Fire was dangerous. And now it flowed through her veins, hot and hungry. And worse, even knowing that going toward that flame would leave her singed, she wanted more.

  Since her stay at the burn hospital, drawing had been her therapy. One of the nurses had suggested the activity to keep her left hand flexible while the skin grafts healed. But never, not once, since that night had she ever drawn people. Animals, yes, monsters, but never people. Now because of him, she couldn’t seem to stop. Every time she picked up a pencil, it insisted on drawing a likeness of Tyler Blackwell.

  In her studio she stood before the slanted board propped on a large white table and snapped on the light above it. The lush shades of green in the landscape showed her love of nature. When she painted, she tried to look past the obvious and create something new and unique. Over the years, what had started as physical therapy had also grown into psychological therapy. In the transparent and painstakingly applied layers of colors, in the details of branches and leaves, of grasses and flowers, of rocks and earth, she’d learned to camouflage her monsters. Giving them life in her work seemed to trap their power to haunt her.

  But in the past few days, the vision that had driven her to start this piece had seemed to mutate. In the wake of the storm covering two-thirds of the panel, a rainbow emerged, and eyes—human eyes—were peering back at her. Human features were taking shape with each stroke of her paintbrush. An ear here. A mouth there. A nose.

  Cups filled with brushes and pencils, tubes of paint and an array of sketches were strewn over the desk, awaiting attention. Melissa found she couldn’t pick up any of them. Her body reverberated with nervous energy. Her fingers itched to draw. But she didn’t want to apply another layer of paint. She didn’t want to see whose face would take shape in the splash of rainbow.

  When the phone rang, she let out a grateful sigh. Before she could even say hello, Dee’s anxious voice came on.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Something’s going on and I don’t like it.”

  Had Dee somehow sensed the confusion Tyler had ignited in her? Melissa wrapped an arm around her waist and strode to the window. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “The gossip.”

  Melissa’s shoulders relaxed. “When did you start caring about gossip?”

  “I don’t, but what’s going around right now is vicious, Melissa. Someone seems to be deliberately stirring things up.”

  Melissa shrugged, but couldn’t seem to get the sound of a cracking branch out of her mind. Tyler said he’d heard footsteps in the woods. She still found it hard to believe that anyone would want to hurt her. Sable? Just for money? She shook her head. “It’s the time of the year when kids—”

  “No, there’s talk of hexes and devil worship. They say you spilled a cauldron filled with foul-smelling stuff on the courthouse steps. They say you stopped the clock in the tower—something that hasn’t been done for a hundred years. I’m worried, Mel. People are starting to talk about protecting their children and doing what’s best for the town. If it was just one or two people, I could shrug it off. But a mob? People who are afraid do stupid things. They let the crowd sweep them along. I don’t want you out riding by yourself.”

  She gave a dry laugh. “You want me to take Tyler along?”

  Melissa could hear the hard beat of her heart in the interminable pause.

  “I thought we agreed he should leave,” Dee said in a starched voice.

  Had she hoped for Dee’s blessing? “He’s helping me.”

  “Helping you? With what? Melissa, it’s just a smokescreen. For heaven’s sake, I thought you were smarter than that. You’ve been burned before—”

  “And I have the scars to prove it.” She ran a hand over the left side of her face.

  “I’m not kidding, Melissa. Whatever Tyler Blackwell says, he’s not your friend. And someone could easily hurt you out there and no one would know until it’s too late. I want you to be careful.”

  “I’m always careful.” Careful not to be seen. Careful not to be hurt. Careful not to be touched.

  Maybe too careful.

  What had she gained by shutting out the world? Certainly not peace.

  “That’s not good enough,” Dee said.

  “What? You want me to stay locked in my tower like some Rapunzel?” She was pacing now, a tight nervous line, twitching like a fish on a hook with every slap of her boots on the stone floor. “Don’t you think I’ve done that for long enough? Don’t you think I deserve the truth?”

  “I think you deserve to be safe. Stay in, just until the gossip dies down and people regain their sanity. I want you to hire security guards to patrol the grounds.”

  “No, Dee. I can’t. I’m not going to let anyone take away what I have left.”

  “I’m not talking forever. Just for now. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  “Join the club.” She stopped pacing and took a long breath.

  I thought I’d take a bullet for you.

  I promised Freddy, and now I’m promising you.

  Melissa still found it difficult to wrap her mind around such statements. He was a stranger to her. She was a stranger to him.

  But loss bound them. He needed to find answers as much as she needed to open doors. Could Dee understand? No, Dee with her sweet family and her freedom wouldn’t comprehend such a nebulous bond or how it could tie two strangers together. There was no point discussing it.

  “Is Sam okay with you going to the show next weekend?” Melissa asked.

  “He’s fine with it. We were going to make the trip a family affair and take the kids along.”

  A family affair. Melissa scratched at the itch of jealousy just under her skin. “When are you planning on leaving?”

  “I don’t think I should go.”

  “Eclipse needs the points.”

  “He can get them at the next show.”

  How could she make Dee understand that while her world was falling apart, she needed to hang on to the few unchangeables in her life? Horses—Dee had brought them into her life as ballast when Melissa was cast adrift in self-pity. She needed that one remaining piece of stability. “No, it’s set. He deserves the chance to shine. I’ll expect you tomorrow to ride him and get ready.”

  “Tomorrow is Emmy’s preschool graduation.”

  Four-year old Emmeline with her blond curls and her pixie grin. Melissa smiled at the image of the little girl and her fascination with Aunt Mel’s colors. “Oh, you should have told me earlier. I’d have drawn her a card. You’ll take pictures?”

  “Of course.” Glad to divert the conversation, she led Dee into talking about the exploits of Emmy and her two-year-old brother, Austin. Usually Melissa loved living vi
cariously through Dee’s family, but tonight it seemed only to highlight the emptiness of her own life.

  After they said goodbye, she sat on the window ledge and craned her neck toward Tyler’s room. The windows were dark. She could imagine him sleeping; see his long lashes caressing his golden skin.

  With a jerk, she ripped her stare from Tyler’s darkened window. Her gaze came to rest on the crumbling tower. This castle had been her home for more than twenty years. It was her haven, her safeguard against the world. With the stone walls, the moat and briar fence, she’d always felt safe here. But like the crumbling mortar around those tower stones, her image of her home was growing brittle and gray.

  Her gaze strayed back to Tyler’s window. He held the key to her future, and she didn’t want to give him that much power over her.

  The child’s cry came again, pelting her like rain, making her wish for an umbrella for her heart.

  He was leaving in the morning. And part of her was afraid he wouldn’t come back. How would she find the door?

  AS IT TURNED OUT, Tyler hadn’t needed paramedics to catch him, because he hadn’t had to climb the tower to retrieve evidence. No one had cleaned up after the mason’s fall, and stone bricks still lay haphazardly on the ground. He examined the black markings on the stones as he stowed them in a box in the back of Grace’s car. He could see how the black squiggles might look like mold to Melissa. He could also see how a superstitious man might make evil eyes, horns or snakes out of the black scrolls.

  “Make sure she doesn’t go out anywhere,” he said to Grace as he closed the car door.

  “I’ve been taking care of her longer than you have, son.”

  “I know. But she can be stubborn.”

  Grace barked a laugh. “You got that right.”

  “I’ll arrange to have your car brought back to the castle after I get mine from the garage.” He slid in behind the wheel. “Thanks for lending me your car. I didn’t want to leave Melissa alone.”

  Heavy arms crossed, Grace grunted her response.

  “I should be back before dark,” he said.

  Grace said nothing but disappeared inside the gatehouse. As the iron gate started to move, a package propped against a bar fell over, catching Tyler’s attention. He got out of the car.

  Outside the gate, he glanced left and right. The rising sun cast a golden-pink hue over the awakening countryside, gilding trees, grass and road. Birds twittered reveille. Bees homed in on dewy Indian paintbrushes, golden waves and winecups. A deer scented the air, lifted its white tail and sprang into the woods.

  Still scanning the area, he crouched and, using the tail of his shirt, picked up the plastic bag. Lifting it high, he examined the contents. His throat constricted and the bag fell from his suddenly numb fingers. A spoke of sun highlighted the crinkles on the bag, magnifying the bleeding wound on the white chess queen and the black obituary headline.

  “Mr. Blackwell?” Grace said. “Everything all right?”

  Standing up, Tyler shoved the bag into his jeans pocket. He gave the landscape one last scouring glance, then turned back to the car. “Make sure Melissa stays put. Don’t open the gate for anyone.”

  Grace scowled at him. “I know how to run my business.”

  “That’s the only reason I feel comfortable leaving her.” He rummaged through his wallet and pulled out a card. “Anything, and I mean anything, looks out of sorts, you give me a call at that number.”

  Grace jammed the card into the pocket of her apron. “I’ve been taking care of my girl for a long time.”

  “She needs you now more than ever.”

  He cranked the engine to life and slammed the stick into gear. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

  This was no longer a game. By throwing Lindsey into the equation, someone had pushed the wrong button. The obituary also reminded him of unfinished business. He had a long-owed debt to pay back.

  THE CLOCK BY HER BEDSIDE glowed a red 9:33 a.m. when Melissa first heard the commotion in the courtyard. Grace wasn’t in the habit of raising her voice. Something must be wrong. The horses? No, they were all out at pasture. Melissa frowned as she shook the haze of sleep from her mind. Was Tyler back already? Her heart skipped a beat and a flood of anticipation surged through her. He’d only been gone a few hours, and she missed him already. No, not him, she told herself as she slipped on a pair of black jeans. Just what he could do for her. And why would Tyler’s return make Grace fuss so?

  Melissa finished dressing in a hurry and wrapped a shawl around her head as she rushed down the stairs and into the courtyard. She blinked at the sharp pain in her left eye the sunlight caused and wished she’d grabbed sunglasses.

  Grace, hands on hips, blocked the main gate entrance with her big body.

  “Give me a good reason,” Grace demanded.

  “This warrant gives me the right, and if you don’t move, ma’am, I’ll have to take you in, too.”

  “What for?”

  “Obstruction of justice.”

  “You go right ahead and try.” Grace puffed out her chest and gave her best impression of a mountain.

  “What is going on here?” Melissa peered at the sheriff around Grace’s unmoving bulk. The rack lights on the sheriff’s car blinked in a frenzy, and a deputy stood poised on the other side ready to respond. The sheriff’s legs were braced against Grace’s verbal assault, but he held his ground.

  “I’m afraid I’ll have to take you in for questioning, ma’am.”

  At an early age Melissa had been forced to learn the subtleties of law, the games lawyers played to win their cases, the ways to safeguard herself from unwanted questions. “Am I being charged with anything?”

  Sheriff Tate cleared his throat and shifted his weight. “Cruelty to animals and vandalism.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Well, ma’am, an altar with a sacrificed goat was found in the clearing between your land and the Andersons’. And a witch’s star was painted on my front door with goat’s blood.”

  “So naturally you concluded I was involved.” Sarcasm oozed from her voice. How dare anyone accuse her of animal abuse! She took in all the beasts people dumped at her door. She nursed them. She found them good homes—well, Grace did.

  He shuffled and cleared his throat again. “I’m afraid I have to ask you a few questions.”

  “Ah, you want to know if the witch has prayed to Satan recently. I would hope, Sheriff Tate, that you would have more backbone than to fall prey to idle gossip.”

  “Ma’am, I’m just doing my job.”

  She was tired of this, tired of people spooking at every shadow, thinking every roadkill was her fault. “Then I suggest that you get out there and do just that. You won’t find anything incriminating here.”

  “I’m glad you agree because I also have a search warrant for the premises.” Sheriff Tate’s right hand unconsciously fingered the gun at his belt.

  “Where’s your probable cause?”

  “Ma’am, I saw you ridin’ away from my house myself.”

  “You what?” Melissa clutched Grace with both hands. “When?”

  “At midnight.”

  She and Tyler were in the kitchen at the time. “That’s impossible. I was home then. I haven’t gone out since the shot—”

  “Shot?”

  She shook her head. “Never mind. I didn’t do whatever it is you think you saw me do. I spent the night at home.”

  “I have a warrant for your arrest, ma’am.” The sheriff lifted his left hand and waved the paper clenched in its grasp. “It would be much better if you came willingly.”

  She stared at him, then at the car with the blue and white lights flashing. Their frenzied pulse matched her own. Sweat coated her skin. Her throat went dry. Her hurting eye watered. “I can’t.”

  “I’d really rather not have to use force.”

  She couldn’t stop shaking. “The car.”

  Grace understood and wrapped her body around Melissa, trying to shield her
from the two men. “She can’t ride in no car.”

  “She doesn’t have a choice.” He took a step toward them.

  Grace tightened her hold on Melissa, taking her breath away. “Don’t you dare lay a hand on her.”

  The deputy’s rifle clicked into a ready position.

  “Threatening an officer is a federal offense, ma’am.” The sheriff gritted his teeth.

  “I ain’t threatening,” Grace said. “I’m warning.”

  Melissa swallowed hard, fought the pressure building in her chest. The last thing Grace needed was an encounter with the law. With her record, even a minor offense could land her in jail, and selfishly, Melissa wanted her around. She pushed away from Grace’s protective arms, swayed. “It’s all right, Grace, I’ll go.”

  “Missy—”

  “He’s right, I have no choice.” The pounding of her heart drowned out Grace’s answer.

  The sheriff drew out handcuffs. Her vision narrowed.

  “Please, Sheriff, no cuffs,” Grace said. “It’ll make things worse.”

  “I’ve already said I’d cooperate.” Melissa was going to throw up.

  “It’s policy.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “No, Grace, I need you here. Find Dee.” Tyler. He was her alibi. “Tyler.”

  Cold metal clamped against her wrists. The sheriff urged her forward. The deputy opened the door. The squawk of the voices on the radio sounded like spiders devouring a fly. The sheriff pushed against the top of her head and folded her in the back of the squad car. Nausea billowed at the assault of the scent of sweat. “You have the right…”

  As her vision blurred, the world tilted off its axis, spun. Mama! Mama! The godawful crunch of metal. The silence. The explosion of colors. Black smoke. Dark orange flames. White flashes. The heat. The smell of burning flesh. Oh, God, the smell. The child in her screamed, and Melissa heard no more.

  Chapter Eight

  The problem with alcohol was that once it got in your blood, it was hard to get out. You craved it the way you once craved food or sex or even breathing. Whiskey had been the only way to drown out the memory of Lindsey’s blood and Lindsey’s helpless gurgles as she’d died in his arms.