At first Aurora thought it was just her check, but when she fingered it, she realized there was a yellow note stuck on the back. She read the note three times. Then she put a ten-dollar bill on the table, drained her wine glass, gathered up her jacket and purse, and left the noisy, crowded restaurant. An acquaintance sitting with friends at a table recognized her and called her name, but Aurora only waved and kept going. Once outside, she hurried toward the marina per the explicit instructions the waiter had handed her.
All types of boats—pontoon, fishing, houseboats, speedboats and high-performance boats—floated in the calm water, bobbing gently when some passing boat’s wake washed against them. Aurora passed the rental boats and moved on to the wooden piers that stretched out from the shore like orderly tree branches. Today not even the gleaming Chris-Craft, the antique wooden Owens cabin cruiser, or the sleek Fountain Powerboat interested her. Tied up in the last and largest slip floated the houseboat she sought. The man standing on the bow waved her aboard. She stepped onto the gangplank.
I know we’re in grave danger. But there’s no way in hell I’ll abandon you, Sam. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat.
Together Sam and I will live—or die.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Aurora recognized the man on the bow. He was one of the men in the Polaroid pictures. She had seen him diving in Spawning Run earlier that day. He stood back for Aurora to pass and pointed to the open sliding glass door. “They’re waiting for you inside.”
She wanted to punch him in his flabby stomach, whack his red-veined, bulbous nose. If I had the chance, I’d rip your eyes out! But she couldn’t, and escape was impossible. She straightened her shoulders and stepped inside the houseboat. The man motioned for her to keep walking.
She noticed the compact kitchen with a dinette table and benches that she suspected would fold down into a double bed, and the upholstered seats under the wrap-around windows. That room afforded an expansive view of the lake. The control center, with a key stuck in the ignition, was tucked in the right front corner of the bow. An aluminum spiral staircase led to the flat roof and deck above. If this houseboat were like some of the other luxurious ones she’d seen, up top would be another control center, hot tub, and a sliding board off the stern.
Aurora stumbled slightly as the man prodded her back. “Keep moving,” he ordered.
“I’m going, dammit. Don’t push me.” She heard a familiar bark from the room at the end of the hall.
“Run, Aurora!” Sam yelled. But even if the man following close behind her had let her go, she would never desert her husband. Little Guy barked furiously. Then he yelped.
“You didn’t have to kick him. He knows Aurora’s coming,” Sam said to someone in the room with him. The door opened, and another man, the one Aurora had seen wearing the fur coat in the picture, grabbed her arm and yanked her into the spacious stateroom.
“You should have run,” Sam said, as she rushed to him. Little Guy, recovered from the kick, ran to Sam and Aurora.
Sam sat in a wooden chair, his hands tied behind the chair back. Aurora bent over and kissed him on his cheek.
“Are you badly injured?” She squatted down in front of him. Her eyes searched his battered face, and she gingerly touched his swollen eye.
“Not really. My arms and wrists are sore, my eye hurts like hell, my head aches, and I’m sure there’re some ugly bruises, maybe some broken ribs to add to the already cracked ones, under these clothes. But no, I’m not badly injured. Nothing life threatening, anyway. And I did manage to get in a few good wallops myself.” He attempted a smile.
“I’m sorry you came, Susie-Q. I don’t want you hurt.”
“How could I not come, Sam? I love you. We’ll get out of this. And we’ll do it together.” Or not at all, she thought to herself.
“Who did this?” She recognized Jimmy Ray and Clyde as two of the men in the Polaroid snapshots. But who were they?
Jimmy Ray, his face marred with several fresh bruises and cuts, thanks to Sam, yanked Aurora to her feet. “Shut up!” he growled.
“I delivered the pictures like you told me to do, I waited in that restaurant per your instructions, and I will talk to my husband if I wish!”
“Damn uppity woman! Who do you think you are?” Jimmy Ray slapped her and Aurora fell to her knees. Dazed, she wondered for a moment if her jaw was broken. She touched her lip and saw blood on her finger. Sam strained at the ropes that bound him. Little Guy growled and attacked Jimmy Ray’s leg.
“Call that mutt off or I’ll shoot ‘im!” he demanded, pulling a .38 from his jacket.
“Stop it!” yelled Clyde over the noise as Aurora grabbed a still-furious Little Guy and held him in her arms. “Shots will bring cops. Use your head, Jimmy Ray.” Clyde was tired of this mess with Jimmy Ray, tired of nice people being murdered. But there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
Jimmy Ray swung his pistol toward Clyde. For a brief moment, Clyde thought Jimmy Ray had read his mind, that the end of his life had come. Then Jimmy Ray lowered the gun.
“She ain’t gonna talk to me that way! And I damn sure ain’t takin’ any crap from a dog!”
“Look,” Sam said, “be reasonable. Little Guy will be a problem to you as long as he’s on board. And you don’t want to attract attention by firing that gun. Let the dog go. No one can trace him to you. Besides, you have what you want.”
“I could cut him up,” leered Jimmy Ray as he pulled a long hunting knife from its sheath on his belt. “Feed ‘im to the cat fish.” Aurora shuddered.
“You could do that, sure,” said Sam, “but what’s your boss gonna say when he sees blood all over his big, fancy boat? Think he’s gonna like that?”
Clyde whispered to Jimmy Ray in a corner of the cabin. Aurora raised an eyebrow and shot Sam a questioning look. “Cross your fingers,” he mouthed as he winked at her. She didn’t know what, but she knew Sam was planning something.
“Hold the dog still or I swear I’ll stick ‘im,” Jimmy Ray said to Aurora. Aurora glared at him, but wrapped her arms around Little Guy. Clyde looped a piece of rope through Little Guy’s collar and dragged the snarling dog from the cabin, through the galley, and across the gangplank. Pointing his knife at Sam, Jimmy Ray warned Aurora, “Don’t you try nothing smart or I’ll sure as hell kill him when I get back.” He left the cabin and locked the door.
“How did they get you, Sam? And who’s behind this?”
“I met Jimmy Ray and Clyde on my walk. They drove up in a black pick-up truck. They said you’d been in an accident, that you were hurt. They described your Jeep. When they offered to take me to you, Little Guy and I got in the truck. I don’t know who the ringleader is, but,” he added, “my guess is we’ll find out soon enough. Check out that framed photograph over there. Look like anyone we know?”
“What photograph?”
“The one over there on the corner shelf above the bed. Go look at it.”
Aurora, a quizzical look on her face, walked across the room, stared at the picture, and dropped down on the bed.
“Sam, tell me that isn’t Carole in the picture. Tell me,” pleaded Aurora.
“My darling Susie-Q, I can’t tell you that. I, too, think the picture looks exactly like Carole.” Sam ached for his wife.
Aurora couldn’t believe it. Carole—her friend, her bridesmaid, her confidant, a person she loved and trusted—had betrayed her! Aurora sobbed softly into her hands. Was there anyone left she could trust?
“Aurora,” Sam said. “Aurora!”
Aurora raised her head and looked at her husband. “What?”
“See if you can untie my hands while we’re alone.”
“I’ll do better than that,” she said as she stopped sniffling. Reaching in her shoe, Aurora pulled out the scout knife she’d wedged there before leaving the house.
“You have a knife?”
“Yep. One thing my Daddy taught me was to be prepared. This is his knife. And I’m prepared.”
&nbs
p; She worked furiously for several minutes before one tough strand of the three-strand Manila rope snapped.
Footsteps sounded in the galley and continued down the hall. Aurora thrust the knife in her pocket and quickly moved beside Sam. Clyde opened the door and peered inside the cabin. “Just checking on you. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Don’t do anything stupid.” He closed the door.
“I checked ‘em. No need for you to. I tied the dog to a tree,” they heard Clyde say to Jimmy Ray in the hall.
“Nobody saw me. Boss is coming aboard. Time to shove off.” Both men hurried to haul in the gangplank and start the engines before casting off.
“We’re underway; one of them will be down here any minute,” whispered Sam as he heard the engine start and felt the boat move. He didn’t need to urge Aurora to hurry or tell her the consequences if she were caught attempting to free him. She sawed harder, and suddenly the second strand broke. Beads of sweat covered her brow and upper lip. She heard footsteps coming down the stairs from the overhead deck and, returning the knife to her shoe, she moved around to Sam’s side.
Jimmy Ray poked his head into the room. “Thought I’d better check on you two. Kinda sorry you ain’t misbehavin’. Was looking forward to teaching the little lady some new tricks.” A sickening leer spread across his face. He took a step toward Aurora. Clyde hollered, “Jimmy Ray! Get back up top!
“Guess we’ll hafta wait ‘til later, sweetheart,” said Jimmy Ray. “But not too much later.” Aurora knocked his hand away as he reached over to stroke her hair.
“Leave her alone!” yelled Sam.
Jimmy Ray laughed and blew her a kiss. “Later, Baby.”
As soon as he left, Aurora whipped out her knife.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Charlie stuck a key in his front door. The afternoon on the links at Boonsboro Country Club in Lynchburg had exhausted him, but he’d needed it. He hadn’t realized how stressed he’d become, and the golf outing with his retired buddies had relieved much of the pressure he’d been feeling. How could he have let himself get so tense? Maybe it was time to retire, to leave his legacy of justice to someone younger. He wondered how he would cope with a lot of time on his hands. If Annie were still alive, they could travel, take some of the trips to Europe they had planned. Before cancer claimed her, they’d had forty-nine good years together, but now all he had left were memories. Lord, he missed her.
Playing the front nine, enjoying a chili dog slathered with mustard and coleslaw, and then attacking the back nine had recharged him When he left his friends in the club parking lot, he’d promised them he would consider retirement.
He pushed open the door and heard the answering machine’s beep. Five messages appeared. He groaned. All he wanted was to settle down in his brown leather recliner with a martini, maybe two. Later he’d fix a grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of the delicious healthy-but-ugly lentil and spinach soup his widow neighbor brought over yesterday. He pushed “Play.” The voice of a sweet young thing stated that the maintenance warranty on his dishwasher would soon run out and now would be the perfect time to renew. He erased it and listened to someone, probably a telemarketer, hang up. The third and fourth messages were equally unimportant. Maybe he’d get to his martinis after all.
But then he heard message number five.
Aurora’s no-nonsense voice wiped out all thoughts of a relaxing drink. He dialed her number. “Come on Aurora, answer the phone!” he said aloud. He slammed down the receiver when the answering machine picked up. Aurora’s message to him had said to check her computer if he hadn’t heard from her by noon tomorrow, but he wasn’t a patient man. She was in trouble. He called the lake police, told them to meet him at 210 Spawning Run Road, and sped toward the lake.
The drive took him fifty-one minutes. Investigators Conner and Johnson were waiting on the front porch when he arrived.
“You two check out the house while I turn on the computer,” he said as he unlocked the front door.
“What are we looking for?” Johnson asked.
“Anything unusual or suspicious. You’re the cops; I’m just a judge. Use your instincts.”
Aurora’s computer was slow to boot up. Judge Anderson went to C-drive, then typed in “crosstitch.” Across the screen flashed “You have used an invalid password.” Exasperated, he retyped it. The identical message reappeared. Several more attempts produced the same results. Pushing himself back from the computer, the judge closed his eyes and pressed his fingertips against his temples.
Irritated at the interruption when the doorbell rang, he shouted, “Someone get the damn door!” Seconds later, Conner and Johnson ushered Luke Stancill into the room.
“Look who just happened to stop by,” said Conner. “Says he was fishin’ for stripers near Spawning Run. Looked like a storm was brewin’, and he figured Aurora and Sam would shelter him for a while.”
The judge confronted Luke. “Really? Can you prove it?”
“Of course not. What’s going on? Where are Aurora and Sam?” asked Luke.
“Why don’t you tell me?” countered the judge. “No, tell Conner. I’m busy.”
Luke peered over Judge Anderson’s shoulder as another “You have used an invalid password” flashed across the screen.
The judge growled.
Luke read the password the judge had scribbled on a piece of paper next to the computer. “Are you typing two s’s or three?”
“Two.”
“Why don’t you try typing three? Make it ‘crossstitch’.”
The judge scowled at Luke, but followed his suggestion. Words from Aurora flashed on the screen.
Uncle Charlie, today (Saturday) I received a phone call ordering me to go to Cabin 171E in the State Park with certain pictures, negatives, and a necklace I found if I wanted to see Sam alive. The caller said not to call the police and to come alone. I’ll explain later, but I located some Polaroid pictures Dad had hidden. I’m pretty sure the men in the pictures murdered Dad. I assume this house is being watched, so since I can’t go have copies made, I have scanned the pictures into the computer. After I drop off the photos and necklace, I’m to go to Hales Restaurant and wait for further instructions. Before the phone call came, I videotaped two men in Spawning Run. I think they were in the boat that tried to ram Luke and me. That tape is in my cross-stitch bag in my bedroom. If I don’t return, please take care of King. He’s in the dog pen outside. The dog food’s beside the laundry tub in the basement. I feed him twice a day. I love you, Aurora. P.S. King needs snuggle hugs every day.
Charlie’s watch read 6:45 p.m.; Aurora had called at 3:00. “Conner and Johnson, let’s go!” he bellowed. “We’ll take both cars. King will ride with me.”
“Won’t the dog just be in the way?” asked Johnson.
The judge scowled at him. “On the contrary. King and Aurora have something special between them, something you and I don’t understand. Believe me, King will help us find my niece.” As he hurried outside to get King, he uttered a prayer for his niece’s safety.
“What about him?” asked Sergeant Johnson, pointing to Luke.
“I’ll come with you,” offered Luke.
“No you won’t,” the judge hollered over his shoulder. “We’ll catch up with you later. Don’t leave the lake area.” The three men left Luke standing on the porch.
Luke hurried down to the water and looked up at the sky. He knew a bad storm was imminent. He’d always had a sixth sense about weather, and he’d learned to listen to it. Should he look for Aurora and Sam? He looked up at the security of the big house on the hill. He could wait on the covered porch until the storm subsided. He shrugged, turned and boarded his small fishing boat. He hit the throttle and headed out into the lake.
“Stay, King.” The judge turned off the car ignition. Conner and Johnson pulled up beside him, and they all advanced on Cabin 171E. The deputies drew their guns and pushed open the unlocked door.
Conner entered the cabin first. “Looks empty t
o me. We’ll have a look-see, though.”
The cabin was neat and free of dust. No shoe prints showed on the vinyl floor. The empty refrigerator shone, as did the oven. Neither the two bedrooms nor the bathroom yielded any clues. The place was immaculate.
“Call the station and get forensics in here,” Conner ordered Johnson. “Find out if there’s been a recent rental. If so, get a name, address and phone number.”
Charlie returned to his Lincoln, snapped the leash onto King’s collar and let him out. “Find Aurora, King.” The dog whined, sniffed the ground, and dragged Charlie up to the cabin door, then turned and backtracked to where Aurora had parked her car hours earlier. Charlie saw tire prints in the dirt.
“She’s been here,” the judge said. “I won’t take King inside; don’t want to destroy any potential evidence. King and I will drive on over to Hales Restaurant and check it out. I’ll call if I find anything.” After putting King in the car, Judge Anderson drove away.
“Do you believe him? Looks to me like he thinks he’s still a cop,” said Johnson.
“Cut him some slack, man. His niece is in trouble.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“Somebody’s coming!” Sam whispered.
Aurora put the knife in her shoe and sat down beside Sam. She’d been so close to freeing him.
“Hello, Sam, Aurora. Surprised to see me?” Harold Johns sauntered into the room.
“That’s an understatement! Yes, I’m surprised to see you. How’d you find us, Harold? Guess there’s time for explanations later, though. We’d better go before they find you here.”
Suddenly Aurora understood. “I don’t think you and I will be leaving with Harold, Sam,” she said in a quiet voice.
“Why not?”
“Your little lady here is astute. I bet she’s guessed the truth.”
Sam looked from Aurora to Harold. “Oh, no. Not you, Harold. Don’t tell me you’re responsible for robbery and kidnapping.”
Harold smiled. “I like you Sam, always have. Admire you, too. But you’re naïve. You accept people for what you see, what you want them to be. Miss Aurora here, though, is a better judge of character.” He grinned at Aurora. “I don’t believe you like me anymore, Aurora.”
Secrets at Spawning Run Page 17