Three May Keep a Secret (An Endurance Mystery)

by Susan Van Kirk

  “I’m just going to let this soak in for a while before it gets dark,” he said. He moved around the edges of the room pouring gasoline on the lower parts of the wall, covering the box he’d been sitting on and the pile of sticks she’d so carefully piled up against the wall. Then he came over to her and poured the last few ounces down her back and legs.

  “Ahhhh,” she screamed as the cold liquid went down her back. She couldn’t breathe and her chest tingled. Her whole body shook with chills.

  “There. That’ll make sure it goes up fast. I’ll get the front part of the barn next. It’s starting to get dark and the fireworks are probably about to start. Guess this is goodbye, Grace.”

  The fumes from the gasoline were overwhelming and her heart pounded as she thought about what he had done. Cowering in the corner, she couldn’t look at him as he walked out the door. She could hear him splashing gasoline around the main part of the barn. It was getting dark and she didn’t have much time. He’d left the door open so the fire could get back to her faster. Grace couldn’t quite see what he was doing out at the front of the barn, but she figured it would only be a short time before she would start smelling smoke. She thought about her children and TJ, Deb, and Jill. She thought about Lettie. She could see Robin and Gail’s faces and the house they’d lived in. Her memory roamed over every inch of that house and the night the fire had started. She pressed her lips together, pulled her shoulders back and thrust out her legs. A gathering feeling, a sense of purpose and calm, a shrugging off of terror washed over her.

  “I may have given up before,” she said to no one but herself, “but this time I’m going to get out. See if I don’t.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT:

  TJ

  * * *

  TJ drove back to the station from Grace’s house and on the way she called the desk. “I want you to look up Grace Kimball’s license, car make, and model, and put out an APB on her car.”

  “Got it. What’s the problem?”

  TJ explained the situation and said she’d do a cursory pass around the spots where Grace might be. After driving down Main Street and the public square, she turned and headed east toward Tully’s. She even checked around the back but found no Kimball car. Then she drove over to the Historical Society, thinking Deb might have left it open late. Nothing. It was as if Grace had disappeared off the face of the earth. She glanced out her window. It was starting to get dark, enough that the street signs were hard to see. She was just about to go back to the station when she had another call from Lettie.

  “TJ, come back. You gotta see this.”

  “What? Is Grace back?”

  “No. But I got a package for her that was just delivered—by a special courier. Must be something important. Should I open it?”

  “Yes, and tell me what’s in it.” She heard the strip being torn off the package and the rustling of paper. Then it was quiet for a moment.

  “It’s one of those oblong computer things—jump drives, I think Grace calls them. And there’s a note.”

  “What’s the note say?” TJ asked with amazing patience.

  “It’s from somebody named Becca Baxter. I think that’s a friend of Grace’s. She says she got the photos as clear as she could get them and she hopes they will tell Grace what she wants to know. Hmmm . . . wonder what that could be about.”

  “I know what it’s about. Grace had her blow up some pictures and make them clearer. I’ll be right over.”

  TJ could hear Lettie begin to cry, her voice quivering in an uncharacteristic way for Lettie. “I don’t like this, TJ. She must be in trouble.”

  “I’m working on it. Just hang on till I get there.”

  She made it to Sweetbriar in record time and raced in the front door. Lettie met her, red-eyed, and TJ gave her some quick assurance and left for the police station, jump drive in her pocket.

  In minutes she rushed in the door and asked Myers which officers were on shift that night.

  He looked up from his computer screen. “Collier was put on the fireworks. Jake Williams is around—back in the break room.”

  “Good. Taking Williams with me. We’ve got a missing person—Grace Kimball—and she’s in trouble. I need Jake for backup since everyone else is on the centennial stuff. Call Jake up to my office,” and she took off running down the hallway to boot up her computer.

  Jake came a few minutes later, and TJ explained Grace’s newspaper research, the Kessler fire, and the photo blowups as she brought up her computer program and stuck the tiny oblong in the port. He stood behind her, peering over her shoulder. The drive appeared to have three photos on it. One was labeled “football,” one said “two teenagers,” and the third said “young boy.”

  The first picture was the one of Brenda and Ted Kessler sitting in the hallway outside their lockers. TJ scanned the photo, checking for any detail that would give her a clue about what Grace suspected. Brenda Norris stared at her from the screen but TJ couldn’t see anything unique or unusual about the teenage Brenda. Her eyes moved over to Kessler, who was in a short-sleeved shirt, jeans, and boots of some sort. She moved in, magnifying the photo, and could see that he had a chain around his neck. “Oh, shit,” she said out loud as she saw the edge of something attached to the chain. “That explains a lot. Let’s bring up the ‘young boy’ photo.”

  She pulled up the second photo of Ted Kessler. It was his school picture and Grace’s friend had enlarged it considerably so it was much clearer and larger than it had been. TJ immediately checked out his neck and saw the chain once again. But this time the charm attached to it was clear—a circular disk with a raven in the middle. “Unbelievable. They got the wrong guy.”

  “What are you talking about?” Jake asked.

  “I’ll explain it to you when we get in the car. But for now I have to check out the football team picture. I think I already know what I’m going to find.”

  She pulled up the photo of the Endurance High School football team. TJ could now see the faces clearly. She scanned the jerseys and came to the number thirty-two. Then she looked at the names identifying the players and realized what had happened. “Nick Lawler, number thirty-two. But we know him by a different name, don’t we, Jake?”

  He leaned over TJ’s shoulder. “He looks really familiar to me but I can’t quite place him.”

  “You can’t recognize him because he was only seventeen back then. Today he’s in his late fifties and owns the sports bar downtown.”

  “Bill Tully.”

  “Jake, do you know how to work the software program to trace a cell phone with GPS?”

  “Yes, but we can call the cell phone company and have them triangulate it. That would be faster.”

  She wrote a number on a piece of paper. “Good. Go out to Myers, get that done ASAP, and have them find Grace Kimball’s cell phone. Here’s the number. And below it is my cell number. Have the phone company pinpoint the location for me. Tell them it’s an emergency—we’re in a hurry.”

  “Gotcha.” He started out of the room as she added, “And Jake, bring extra ammo for your gun.”

  She checked her gun and then pulled an extra magazine from her cabinet. Then she holstered her gun on the right side of her belt and the magazine in a carrier with her handcuffs on her left side. She thought she knew where Tully had Grace and, with any luck, they could get the location quickly and verify her guess. She just hoped that Grace’s cell phone was on and the battery wasn’t dead.

  She said to herself as she went out the door, “I think I know where she is, even without the cell phone, but better have that as a backup.” She met Jake at her car and they headed west out of town.

  “That phone company had better be as fast as you say. If I’m wrong about where Grace is we may be too late.” TJ’s fingers clenched on the steering wheel, her knuckles white with strain.

  “Way I understand it, the technology’s so accurate these days a wireless carrier can let you know a phone’s position within about three hundred f
eet,” Jake replied.

  “Keep talking. Helps my nerves to listen. How does it do that?”

  “Her phone has a software app running in the background. She isn’t even aware of it. Because the app uses GPS positioning, the provider can send us pinpoint accurate information. And that’s not even the best part—”

  “And that’s—?”

  “You don’t need a warrant anymore to check the location. So we’re—”

  TJ’s cell phone went off and she handed it to Williams.

  “Williams here.” He was silent, listening intently. “Okay. Thanks.” He turned to TJ and said, “Sounds like a pasture up ahead. How did you know?”

  The red emergency lights flashed eerily onto the trees and Jake felt the car speed up. “The old Kessler place. I believe there’s still a barn left standing.” She gripped the steering wheel tighter and stared into the night, watching every movement of the lights on the road. When she saw the mailbox she was looking for, she turned onto a dirt pathway and shut off the emergency lights.

  Through clenched teeth, she hissed, “Pray to God we’re not too late.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE:

  GRACE

  * * *

  The sandwich and water Tully had brought gave Grace a second wind. She could think much better than she could when he first came into the barn. Shivering from the gasoline that felt colder and colder on her legs and back, she kept calm and ratcheted up her resolve. “I know I can do this, but I have to keep my head,” she whispered to herself so if Tully were nearby he wouldn’t hear.

  She scooted over to the cement where the chain was connected to the ring in the ground. Feeling with her fingers through the darkness, she found the key lock on the handcuff. There it is. Now if I can only manage to do this by feeling what I need to do. She pulled one of Lettie’s bobby pins out of her hair, stretching it out until it was one long piece of wire. Then she stuck the edge of the pin under her shoe so she bent it up. It was shaped like an “L.” There has to be a way to trip the spring, a way to get it to come open by applying some pressure to the keyhole.

  Silently she thanked her former student, Roy Trotter. Her last assignment before retiring was to have her seniors do demonstration speeches. He’d brought in a pair of handcuffs and, surprised, she asked him where he’d gotten them. He’d found them in one of his parents’ bedroom drawers, he explained with a pained look on his blushing face. It was all Grace could do to keep from laughing. Roy said he’d slip them back before they found out. Then he demonstrated to the class how to open handcuffs using a bobby pin. Bless you, Roy Trotter, she thought. And if this works I’m going to find you and hug you . . . and maybe your adventurous parents, too.

  Using her left hand to feel her way to the keyhole, she stuck the bent end of the bobby pin into the lock. She applied some outward tension and twisted down. Nothing. No spring came open.

  Then she smelled what she had dreaded ever since she felt the gasoline dribble down her legs: smoke. Tully had evidently lit the fire out near the front of the barn. She could see the beginning of flames moving quickly across the barn floor outside her room. Hold yourself together, Grace, and do it again, she told herself, trying not to let her hands shake. She put the bobby pin into the keyhole a second time. Concentrate. This time she went in at a slight upward angle. She applied tension outward the way Roy had shown her and twisted it down. Suddenly, she felt the spring open and her ankle was free. Amazing what an English teacher can learn when she listens to her students.

  She moved over near the opening and tried to look out without sticking her head clear out the door. Everywhere she could see orange flames—the whole front of the barn was on fire and the flames were almost to the room she was in. She clutched her throat, her hands trembling. Adrenaline kicked in and she woke from her motionless state and tried to close the doors into the barn but they wouldn’t budge.

  I need to check and see if I got that hole big enough. She kicked all the wood pieces away from the wall and threw them behind her, thinking the fire might get to them first, lick its chops, and gobble up the wood before thinking about moving forward for a few seconds. She stuck her head and arms through the hole easily and then started crawling out into the grass. Ahh . . . fresh air, she thought, breathing in deep gulps. She’d almost cleared the barn when her back caught on the wood at the bottom of the wall. She tried to move more slowly, feeling the wood scrape into her back. Inching forward, she winced as pain hit her in waves. But she knew she had to get out and scrapes and abrasions were a small price to pay.

  Suddenly, a voice shouted loudly, “Ms. Kimball, hang on and let me help you!”

  Looking up, she saw Jake Williams, a wonderful sight that she would memorize and remember forever. He clawed at the boards above her and she could hear splintering. Then she felt some of the splinters hit her back, but she was, thankfully, released, and she half-crawled, half-slid out with Jake’s help. She turned over on her sore back, winced, and stretched out her arms.

  But her languor wasn’t to last. Jake helped her up to her feet and said, “We need to get out of here. Tully’s still on the loose. TJ had him cornered up at the front of the barn while I checked out the back. Come with me and stay close.”

  Grace could see he had a gun drawn, and he took her over to the cover of some trees as they circled around to the front of the barn. The trees were like silent sentinels, tall poplars, dark on one side and lighted on the other by the flames from the barn. She followed Jake, wobbling slowly, looking around in every direction. Every foot seemed like a mile and, with weak knees, she stuttered across the grass. Now it looked like daylight, the flames leaping up to the sky, soot falling, and smoke cascading out the front of the barn. This must be what Brenda’s house looked like, she thought, tilting her head to the top of the barn. Then, turning, she could see TJ’s squad car and she could also hear sirens in the night. Someone must have called the fire department.

  Jake suddenly stopped and motioned to her to look up in front of them. She could see TJ behind the open door of her squad car in a silent and focused tableau. Her rifle was balanced on the car door and aimed up high at the window of the barn, her face a study in concentration. Grace and Jake circled wide and rounded the front of the barn but at a wide angle so they could see the flames and the doors and TJ. As Grace looked back up at the window, she saw a solitary figure in a challenging posture, standing and looking down.

  Bill Tully had gone back into the barn, climbed a ladder to what was left of the hayloft, and was standing in the window. He had a gun in his hands, and the next thing Grace knew, he’d fired it twice toward TJ’s car. Sweeney took a shot and Grace saw Tully jerk back as if she had winged him on an arm. Suddenly, Grace’s terrified eyes saw the entire loft fall inward and down into the flames with Tully trapped in the middle of it. She screamed and covered her eyes.

  And then TJ was there, her arms wrapped around Grace, hugging her. The detective pulled back and asked, “Good God, Grace, why do you smell like gasoline? Are you trying to kill yourself?”

  And Grace, ignoring her question, stammered something about a “Roy Trotter.”

  Then she collapsed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  * * *

  Grace glanced around the faces in her hospital room—the hospital had insisted on keeping her overnight for observation. Seems kind of strange to me, since they usually rush you out the door before they’ve even examined you, thought Grace. “Observation” meant they wanted to patch her back and put her on an IV to help with dehydration. She had been in shock when TJ brought her in. Now she was feeling relaxed, her hands loosely clasped in her lap. For some reason she cried easily. That just wasn’t like her.

  TJ had already chastised her for making them both miss the fireworks. Grace had called and talked to her children in Arizona. She was a bit teary with them, but she kept saying she needed to talk to them and loved them. TJ explained that when a terrible shock happens, it makes you feel better to talk with people you
love, even if it is long-distance. She promised Roger, Jr., she would fill him in on her near-death experience soon when she felt more like talking about it. For now it was just enough to hear their voices and tell them she was alive.

  Deb and Jill came and went. They brought a beautiful vase of pink and white flowers—roses, baby’s breath, carnations, and lilies. Deb explained that they were so worried when she didn’t show up for the dress fitting on Friday morning.

  “And to think you were in another fire and escaped again!” Deb wailed, putting her arms around Grace and hugging her until Grace had to loosen her arms from her painful back. Jill declared, with her usual perfunctory air, that they were going to have to keep a closer eye on her in the future. After consoling each other about Grace’s narrow escape, the two women left to go to the parade, promising to send her lots of photos.

  Then there was Lettie. She brought in five copies of the morning newspaper so Grace could read her stories, presumably five times. Lettie had heard the story of the hairpins that helped Grace get out of her shackles—“And to think I put those pins in your hair and they saved your life! Wait till Mildred and Gladys hear about this!” Lettie gasped.

  “You are my hero, Lettie,” Grace commented, trying to keep the humor out of her voice.

  “Now, Gracie, I’ve moved some of my things in to stay with you for a couple of days so I can take care of you just like the old days,” Lettie said, patting Grace’s arm.

  TJ looked over Lettie’s head and winked with amusement at Grace, who smiled and took the bad news with stoicism.

  Lettie sniffed, adding, “And I hear Dan Wakeley’s moved home with his wife during a fragile truce. We’ll see what happens there. Gladys said that Mike Sturgis was at Patsy’s Pub, drunk as a skunk, and declaring he’d sue the police department for false arrest.”