Dying for a Clue

by Judy Fitzwater

  “I didn’t know,” she babbled.

  “Where’s Diane?” Jennifer demanded, blocking Anne Marie with her body. The woman looked like she could tear Valerie limb from limb.

  “I don’t know. He gave me money. It’s hard. School’s so expensive.”

  “Who gave you money?”

  “Paul Collier. He checked in every couple weeks or so, but I never had anything to tell him.”

  “But you told him about finding the clinic and about Diane fainting.”

  “Yeah. Of course. That’s when he started calling me all the time, wanting to know what was going on. Diane even thought he was my boyfriend ’cause he wouldn’t talk to her if she answered, just demanded to speak to me.”

  “A woman got killed,” Johnny pointed out to her. He didn’t add that he could have died as well.

  “Paul said it was a drug theft. You mean...” Her eyes grew huge.

  They looked at each other. It had been a long time since any of them were seventeen.

  “So why’d you send Anne Marie out for barbeque?”

  “He didn’t know where we were, and he’d told me after we went to Sam’s to let him know immediately if we changed locations. But I forgot the clinic was closed on Wednesday afternoons, so I got one of those answering machines, the nonemergency line. I said who I was and that I was calling for Paul Collier from the Residence Inn because you’d gone to Maryland. And to call me as soon as possible.”

  “So Paul’s the one,” Sam said.

  “No,” Valerie squealed. “It wasn’t Paul. It was his brother Donald. He showed up here and gave Diane some song and dance about knowing who her real parents are. He said he would tell her everything, but she had to come with him for a little while. He had something important he had to do, but he wanted her to hear the story from him first. He seemed to know all of you. He dropped your names like you were old friends. Do you know him?”

  “If Donald’s got her, we don’t have to worry so much, then, do we?” Anne Marie asked, trying to calm herself by taking long, deep breaths.

  “Probably not,” Sam agreed.

  “Where’d he take her?” Johnny demanded.

  “He scared me,” Valerie said. “I thought he had a gun. He made me get in the car with them, and then he let me out on some two-lane road out in the country.”

  “On your way, did you go out past Wesleyan?” Sam asked.

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “West of the city, toward the lake,” Johnny said.

  “I don’t know where I was,” Valerie went on. “I walked until I found a house. The people were nice enough to let me make two phone calls. I called for a cab to bring me back here, and then I called Paul’s home and told him what had happened.”

  “Oh, God.” Anne Marie said, sinking into a nearby chair.

  “Don’t panic yet,” Jennifer said. “At least we know where they are.”

  “And so does Paul,” Sam added.

  Chapter 38

  Johnny was right. It was hard to see in the dark. Once they’d turned onto the dirt road, Sam cut all but his parking lights. The moon offered little help, only a sliver visible in the night sky.

  The little Honda, especially with its load—Valerie and Anne Marie had insisted on coming—dragged over some of the rougher spots. Jennifer, wedged uncomfortably between the two women, had precious little room, but neither did she have a choice. She was afraid of what Anne Marie might do to Valerie. At least Johnny had refused her a gun when they’d stopped by the office, insisting he was “fresh out.” He’d slipped one in Jennifer’s pocket, the little pearl-handled number, and put his finger to his lips. It sagged against her thigh like the weight of the world. She knew she’d never be able to use it no matter what happened.

  As they’d driven over, Sam made a phone call to the police, reporting a suspected kidnapping. Depending on the call’s priority, they might even see a squad car before long. If they were lucky.

  They were making no time at all. The road was totally unpredictable through the trees, and the parking lights might as well been off. It had to be a difficult trip during the daytime. In the night and with almost no light, Sam found it necessary to drop to a snail’s pace.

  “But why?” Anne Marie said. Again.

  Jennifer wished she’d just shut up. She was trying hard to focus on what they’d have to do once they got to the cabin, but Anne Marie’s persistent question wouldn’t let her. She thought she’d come up with the answer, but she hoped she was wrong.

  She leaned forward toward the front seat, between Sam and Johnny. “If Donald was there the night the Turners died, it doesn’t make sense. You don’t kill someone and then commit suicide in front of a third party.”

  “What are you suggesting?” Sam asked, dodging a large rock and jolting Jennifer forward even more.

  She braced herself between the seats. “What if the Turners had come back from the hospital, and Colette realized Robert knew their secret, that Diane wasn’t his daughter? What if she called Donald?”

  “Maybe from the hospital,” Sam suggested.

  “Whichever. But say Robert confronts her when they get home. He’s furious, furious that Colette was unfaithful to him. He demands to know who Diane’s father is. She tells him, which only adds to his anger. This is the man he trusted, the one he paid handsomely—as he now sees it—to sleep with his wife. He threatens her with a gun.”

  “About the time Donald makes his appearance,” Johnny adds.

  “Then or a little after. One way or the other, Donald discovers Robert has shot Colette.” Her whole body tingled as all the clues finally fell into place. “Robert turns the gun on Donald, or horrified at what he’s done, turns the gun on himself. A struggle ensues. Robert is shot dead. In the chest, at close range. Whether Donald was protecting himself or trying to stop Robert from committing suicide, Donald has, in effect, killed Robert.”

  “So what we have now,” Sam concluded, “is not a man simply rescuing his daughter from a crime scene, but a man who is responsible for another man’s death.”

  “Now you’re telling me my daughter’s been abducted by a murderer?” Diane might not be Anne Marie’s blood daughter, but she was every bit as ready to protect and defend that girl as any mother anywhere could be. Jennifer hoped Diane had even the slightest inkling of how much she was loved.

  The next turn brought them almost smack into the rear bumper of a Rover or Jeep or some such vehicle pulled to the side of the narrow road. Sam threw on the brakes and they all flew forward and then fell back. Apparently, they had arrived.

  In the dim light it looked like yet another four-wheel-drive vehicle was parked farther up in front, but Jennifer couldn’t tell the make in the dark.

  Even before Sam cut the motor, Jennifer heard the door latch unlock on Anne Marie’s side. She turned and grabbed onto the woman for all she was worth, using all of her 120 pounds as dead weight to keep Anne Marie from escaping.

  “You can’t just run up to that cabin, assuming we’re even in the right place. You want to get all of us killed?” Jennifer whispered loudly. She grabbed onto Valerie, too, for good measure.

  “What?” Valerie asked, shrugging out of her grip.

  “Just making sure. So, Johnny, what’s the plan?” Jennifer asked, hopeful that he’d come up with something. After all, he’d had the whole car ride to do nothing but think.

  “I figure Sam and I will circle around this cabin, hope Donald made himself a couple of windows, and make sure that’s where they’re at.”

  “The cars are right in front of you. What more do you need?” Anne Marie insisted, straining again against Jennifer’s weight.

  She’d like a muzzle about now. And a pair of handcuffs would be useful. Maybe they could lock Anne Marie in the trunk. Just for a little while.

  “You all stay put,” Sam ordered, reaching up and switching the overhead light so it wouldn’t come on. They opened the doors and slipped out into the dark.

  Without s
o much as a goodbye. He could have at least...Yeah, well, what did she expect? Sam was scripting his own lines, not Leigh Ann.

  It struck Jennifer how sexist the situation seemed, the men going out, armed, to save the day, the women staying behind. She tried to rationalize that there was more to it than gender roles, that she was no good with guns and was the only one available to control Ann Marie, who was now hysterically rabid, and Valerie...well, Valerie was seventeen. Somehow none of it washed. The guys were out there, and the women were inside the car. It kind of didn’t seem right. Nevertheless, they sat there, in the dark, the blackest kind of country night, following the thin beams of the two flashlights until, a short distance ahead, they separated and then disappeared. That had to be where the cabin was.

  If learning to wait graciously was one of life’s little lessons, Jennifer had missed it entirely. People she cared about were out there doing who knew what, maybe only seconds from being killed. She wanted to be with them—even if she got in the way—because somehow it made the whole situation more bearable.

  Instead she was stuck in intolerable darkness. She couldn’t see the expressions on her companions’ faces. Anne Marie, now quiet, seemed to have relaxed some. She no longer strained away from her. Jennifer loosened her grip. Her arms had cramped, more from fear than effort.

  Valerie shifted and seemed to lean against her door. She should be all right. It was Anne Marie she was worried about. She’d heard stories about mothers lifting cars to rescue their children. With that kind of adrenaline at her disposal, it was hard to tell what she might do.

  Suddenly, a gunshot cracked, and then another, sending a sharp, shooting pain through Jennifer’s heart. She could feel the women on either side of her stiffen. And before she realized what was happening, she heard both doors fly open. Suddenly she found herself alone on the backseat, the cool night air blowing past her.

  She felt on either side of the seat. Yep. They were both gone. In opposite directions. She should have taken that trunk option while she had it.

  At least there’d been no more shots. Not yet. She felt for the small gun Johnny had given her. It was still snug in her pocket.

  She scooted across the seat and slipped out onto the grass. The cabin was somewhere ahead, slightly to her left, if she hadn’t lost her bearings. That’s the direction Sam and Johnny had headed in. If Anne Marie and Valerie went the opposite way, they should be fine. If not....

  She scurried forward, keeping her hands out in front of her, slipping on the rocks that littered the ground and hugging herself around and past each tree as she came to it. The roots were vicious, her flats catching against them. She didn’t know how blind people did it, and she didn’t have time to learn.

  She heard a loud “Damn it!” a few feet in front of her, and, crouching down, scrambled toward the sound. She stumbled against something soft and fleshy and fell over it. Another oath spewed forth, this one practically in her ear.

  Jennifer reached toward the noise, found a mouth, and clamped her hand over it. “You’ve got to be quiet,” she whispered into Anne Marie’s ear, then pulled the woman to her feet. Anne Marie shoved her, and she fell back against a tree. Guess Anne Marie wasn’t buying into her being in charge.

  Jennifer could hear her going forward through the brush. She was right behind Anne Marie and then shifting toward the left. Another step and the world changed. A soft glow radiated from what must have been the front of the cabin because it spilled from one straight, vertical line. Light also poured from a small window, now clearly visible as she came up. Anne Marie, just ahead, crouched on the side of the cabin.

  But why light at the front? It was so bright. The question had no more appeared in her head than she could hear someone talking, a deep, throaty, angry voice, a voice she recognized from TV. Paul Collier.

  “You did it again, Donald.”

  Of course. Paul hunted deer. Probably spotlighted deer. He was a man who didn’t believe in playing fair.

  Jennifer shifted wider to the left, away from the cabin and the small clearing in front of it, well out of range of the light and behind the cover of the trees, so she could get a look at what was going on around front. Her heart caught in her throat. She could see their profiles, Sam standing with his hands clasped behind his head, Johnny with his hands raised as best he could, considering the wound in his shoulder. Their guns lay on the ground in front of them.

  The side of Johnny’s thigh was seeping blood. Oh, God. And he hadn’t even gotten over his last gunshot wound.

  Paul, still not visible, continued to talk. “Your daughter,” he said sarcastically. “So you had to have your little heart-to-heart. I don’t understand it. You had the best possible situation. You didn’t bother her; she didn’t bother you. Now look at the mess you’ve made. Again.”

  “Let them go,” another male voice said. Must be Donald. She could see Sam and Johnny, and neither of them were talking. “Let us all go.”

  She hardly dared to breathe.

  “So you can call the police and confess? This isn’t just about you anymore, Donald. If that’s what you wanted, you should have done it fourteen years ago. Instead you called me. And I helped you. Now you want to repay me by sending me to jail?”

  “You shouldn’t have had Beverly killed.”

  “I didn’t intend for Beverly to get killed. They were to pick up whatever it was she was going to pass to Zeeman. Guess they got a little overzealous.”

  “Homicide during the commission of a crime is a felony.” Sam.

  “Wasn’t nothing accidental about Hoffman’s death.” That one was Johnny.

  Jennifer made her way farther out and around, carefully staying far enough away that she was completely out of the light. She could see them all now.

  The cabin was a rough shack with only an opening for a door and cinder blocks for steps. Donald stood to the left, Diane half behind him. Paul, on the right, held a mean-looking rifle.

  “You can’t kill all four of us.” Sam’s voice. “Surely you don’t plan to—”

  “I haven’t decided. If I were you, I wouldn’t push it. No one knows we’re out here.”

  “Actually, that’s not true,” Sam said.

  No, Sam, she thought, hoping he would sense her warning.

  “I called the police on the way over.”

  She allowed herself to breathe. At least he hadn’t mentioned that there were three totally unpredictable women lost somewhere in the dark.

  “You expect me to believe that?” Paul again.

  Sam shrugged as best he could, considering where his hands were. “I don’t care what you believe.”

  “Well, let’s say that’s true. All the more reason for me to get on with it.”

  She had to do something fast, but what? She felt for the pistol, and pulled it out of her pocket. Maybe she could shoot out the spotlight. Who was she kidding? She’d fired a gun only once and that was under duress. She’d missed the target entirely and sent everyone around her scrambling for cover. No way she could hit a target like that light from this far away. Besides, she might hit Paul in the process. Or Donald. Or Diane. Or... She couldn’t chance it, not unless he were actually about to pull the trigger.

  Paul raised the rifle.

  Jennifer raised the gun.

  Abruptly, a barrage of stones poured from the area directly behind Sam and Johnny, pelting Paul’s chest just as Jennifer fired the pistol straight into the air, and Anne Marie emerged from the side of the cabin yelling primitive, warlike whoops at the top of her lungs. As Paul turned in her direction, she caught him in the face with a spray of liquid from what looked like an aerosol can. Then she threw it at his head.

  Paul staggered back, dodging stones and clawing at his eyes as the rifle slid to the ground.

  They were all over him. Anne Marie, Sam, Donald, Diane—tangled in a mass of arms and legs and bodies. Paul, soundly tackled, lay somewhere beneath.

  She could hear his muffled cries. “Get the hell off of me.�
�

  No one moved.

  By the time Jennifer made it into the circle, Valerie was coming out of the woods, hefting a stone in her right hand.

  “Great arm,” Jennifer told her.

  “All-star pitcher four summers in high school.”

  “Either one of you got a handkerchief or somethin’ I could tie around this leg?” Johnny asked. He sat on the ground seeping blood. Obviously nothing too serious, but enough.

  Jennifer pulled off one of her knee socks and wrapped it around his thigh.

  Johnny leaned in and whispered in her ear. “You’ll have to come over sometime and let me show you my scars.”

  She pulled the sock tightly and looped it into a knot. Then she turned and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “You’re some partner. You know that?”

  He smiled. “Yeah? We’re going to have to do something about your shooting skills. I can take you out to the range starting next week. And I think we should enroll you in some kind of martial arts class, maybe karate, or at least get you into some weight training. I know a guy with a gym who—”

  She leaned in closer and whispered into his ear. “In case you didn’t hear me in the hospital, I quit.”

  Chapter 39

  The solid core door and the deadbolt had been installed in the bedroom of Jennifer’s apartment, and the super lock was securely in place on her front door. The hanging ladder had arrived in yesterday’s mail. It was time to go home.

  “You don’t have to leave today,” Sam told her as she loaded her cosmetics into a zippered bag, stuffed her toothbrush into its holder, and dumped them all into a box.

  “Muffy and I need to get out from under your feet,” she said, tossing her toothpaste and floss in with the other things.

  “You were never under my feet.”

  She looked at him. She hated it when he said the right thing. Almost as much as when he didn’t. It seemed as if they were breaking up, even though her living there had always been temporary. He hadn’t asked her to stay, not permanently, so she had to go. Keeping busy made it easier not to think about it.