“And I guess you preferred to let Bob live, at least until the development deal went through,” I muttered.
Like my aunt, Sylvia’s hearing was not in the least impaired. “Exactly. So I went to have a little talk with Clark Fowler instead. Just a chat. Of course, I carried my gun in my purse as I always do. For my own protection.”
“I guess Clark didn’t want to be told to stay quiet.”
“No, so I had to silence him.”
I looked up at her stoic profile. She was so calm and logical—and yet completely mad.
Foolish me, I’d always thought that a person with serious psychological issues would be easy to identify. Now I realized that I was wrong. Although Sylvia had struck me as cold and self-absorbed, I would never have imagined her a sociopath. Yet here she was, calmly chatting about murdering people for no more reason than preserving her family name and protecting a few business deals.
“I thought perhaps Kurt Kendrick was involved, but he wasn’t, was he?”
“Kurt? No. Although he does conduct business with some interesting partners. As I said, he and I share some mutual friends.”
I clutched my upper arms with both hands to still my shaking. So I hadn’t been completely wrong about Kendrick. Just as Zelda and Aunt Lydia expected, his hands were not entirely clean. But it seemed in this instance he was innocent of any wrongdoing, unlike my murderous cousin, Don Virts, and—to a lesser degree—our illustrious mayor.
I turned my head to stare out the window. The wild woods had given way to a field of overgrown shrubs and grasses, indicating that the area had once been cleared. A mountain farm, I thought as we rounded a corner and drove into a parking area fronting an old barn.
Sylvia stopped the car before the open barn doors. “Now stay put,” she said as she lifted her gun and stepped out of the car, locking the doors behind her with her key fob. She waved the gun at me and walked through the barn doors and was swallowed up by shadows.
The second Sylvia disappeared from my view, I frantically unbuckled my seat belt and wiggled my door handle. It still wouldn’t budge. I clambered over the center console to reach the driver’s side. Yanking that door handle freed the lock. Kicking the door open with my right foot, I stumbled out of the car and ran.
If I could reach the woods, I might have a fighting chance. Sylvia had the gun, but if I could get to the trees, she wouldn’t have a clear shot. She had the advantage, but she was only one person.
It was one against one. Although the gun was a problem.
A problem, Amy? A problem? The hysteria I couldn’t release bubbled up in my throat, almost choking me. But I couldn’t focus on that. I had to get away.
I had almost reached the tree line when Sylvia’s shouts rang in my ears. I just lowered my head and ran faster.
Right into the arms of the short, wiry man who stepped out of the woods.
Don Virts. Where the hell had he come from? It was as if he’d materialized from the trees, like some forest gnome.
“Hold up there, missy,” Don said, wrapping his arms around me. Despite his small stature, he was surprisingly strong. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Unable to move my arms, I kicked his shins. He swore and jabbed his elbow into my ribs, knocking the wind from my lungs.
“You took your time,” Sylvia said as she strolled up to us, the gun held casually at her side. “You ditched your car somewhere secluded, I hope.”
“Other side of the woods, next to the Fields girl’s car.”
“Good.” Sylvia tossed her car keys at Don. “Here, hold onto these for a minute while I keep our nosy librarian in check.”
As Don released his hold on me to grab the keys from the air, I tumbled to the hard ground. I looked up into Sylvia’s cold face and knew my next escape attempt would require better planning if I wanted to avoid being her third victim. She had leveled the gun until it was pointing directly at my forehead. “Stand up,” she commanded.
I rose slowly, my eyes on the gun.
“Now march into the barn. And remember, I’ve got my pistol trained on you.”
Walking with measured steps, I crossed the graveled lot and entered the barn. Hearing two sets of footsteps behind me, I knew Don was trailing Sylvia.
Ordering me to halt once I was inside the barn’s wide center aisle, Sylvia pressed the barrel of the gun against my shoulder. I glanced to my right and spied a shiny new dead bolt on a weathered wooden door.
Don moved closer, stepping around us to push back the bolt. Sylvia lowered the gun to her right side and reached for my shoulder with her left hand.
I took the opportunity to twist away, hoping I could somehow drop to the ground. Sylvia’s hold on the gun had loosened, and if I could trip her up . . .
Sylvia released a string of expletives that I was shocked she even knew. She grabbed me by my upper arm and yanked me around to face her with a strength that must have been born of desperation and adrenaline. As she swung at me wildly, she dealt me a blow with her right hand. The one that still clutched the gun.
I stumbled backward. Staring at my attackers, a wave of nausea overcame me. I gagged and pressed my hands against both temples as if that action could still my rattled thoughts and stop the ringing in my ears. Don grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me around before yanking my arms down and holding them behind my back. As soon as Sylvia opened the door, Don shoved me forward, sending me sprawling onto a hard wooden floor. It was all I could do to turn myself over as the door closed and the dead bolt slammed shut.
Dust motes danced in the air above my face, or maybe it was the stars flickering in my eyes from that blow to my head.
Trapped. I was trapped again. I blinked rapidly and thrust up one hand, as if I could grab hold of one of those stars. As if I could reach something, anything, that could free me from this makeshift prison.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Fingers clutched my upraised hand.
“Richard,” I muttered, tightening my grip.
The dusty scent of old hay and grain rose up in my nose as the person kneeling next to me shifted. “No, sorry, just me.”
I sat up with a jolt, scraping the bare skin on the back of my legs against something. Pressing my hand to the surface, I realized the rough wooden boards were peppered with bits of straw.
“Sunny!” I turned my head, sending stabs of pain from ear to ear. As I stared at my friend, her face wavered like she was trapped behind old glass. But it was my eyes, blurring everything. “Are you okay?”
“Not really.” Sunny’s normally bright voice sounded hoarse.
As my vision cleared, I examined her more carefully. Her silky hair lay in ropey tangles across her shoulders, and her lips were chapped to the point of bleeding. “You’ve been here the whole time?”
“Yes.”
“So since Friday, right after the protest?” I released Sunny’s hand and pushed several strands of hair out of my eyes.
“Yes, and so far only Sylvia and Don have come around. I hoped it was Brad or another one of the deputies when I heard the commotion outside, but then the door opened, and Sylvia held her gun on me as Don Virts shoved you in here.” Her deep breath caused a rattle in her throat. “They locked the door again, of course. I wasn’t fast enough to do anything to stop them.”
I touched her bare forearm, noting the red marks fading on her wrists. “We’ve been searching for you.”
“I know. I heard them talking. They were worried. Especially about Brad.”
“And they should be. He’s pulled out all the stops to look for you.” I allowed my gaze to wander around our small prison. A high barred window allowed in enough light to see our surroundings but offered no avenue for escape. I rubbed at my temples. Our makeshift cell appeared to be an old storage room. There were burlap sacks piled on the floor and wooden posts jutting out from the plank walls. For saddles, I thought, although there were none in the room. But a frayed rope halter and a moth-eaten horse blanket hung from hooks in one w
all. So a tack room no longer in use. I refocused on Sunny’s tired face. “You realize Sylvia Baker and Don Virts are in on this together?”
“Yeah, knew they had to be because they both kidnapped me. It was after the protest ended. Most everyone else had left, although Don Virts was still around. He volunteered to help me collect any trash left on the property, then offered me a bottle of water. I guess it was dosed with some kind of drug, a roofie or something, because after a little while, I started to feel dizzy, and then I guess I stumbled over my own feet and passed out.” Sunny rubbed at her forehead. “I don’t remember anything about being put in a car, but I imagine Don helped Sylvia with that. But then he must’ve taken my keys and driven my car, because when I woke for a moment, all I saw was the back of Sylvia’s head. She was the only one besides me in her car.” Sunny held out her hands. “I was tied up, so I couldn’t escape, and anyway, I was so groggy I passed out again until we arrived here.”
“I don’t have any idea where here is—do you?” I wiped sweat from my forehead. It was hot and stuffy, wherever it was.
“No. Just that we’re in the mountains somewhere off the beaten track. I glimpsed this old barn as the two of them hauled me out of the car, but that’s all.”
“I heard Don say he hid your car where no one could find it.”
“And took my phone.”
“Yeah, I figured that.” I slid one hand into my pocket. “Mine’s gone too, of course.” I took hold of Sunny’s dry fingers. “One of them sent a text to your grandparents. Said you weren’t coming home Friday night. That you were spending the night at my house. So no one wondered where you were until Saturday when you didn’t show up for work.”
“They think they’re pretty clever, I guess.”
“Well, smarter than me because I really got it wrong. I thought Kurt Kendrick was the mastermind. I did suspect that Don and Bob were involved, but I never thought my cousin was mixed up in the murders in any way. Yet she was the one who killed both Doris and Clark.”
“Well, that’s not something you would expect.”
“No. I mean, Kendrick supposedly has some underworld connections, so I thought he might’ve had you kidnapped because you saw his car at the archives that day. But apparently that was just a coincidence.”
“Don’t beat yourself up—you pieced most of it together. You nailed the part about Don and Bob being involved. Sylvia Baker was the wild card. Who would’ve thought she was capable of killing people with no remorse?” Sunny pulled her hands free and tried to spit onto the wooden floor. But no bubble of moisture appeared on her cracked lips. “Sorry, I’m so dry. Feel like I have cotton stuffed in my mouth.”
“Didn’t they give you water?”
“Yes, but I’ve stopped drinking it. Think there’s something in it. I kept drifting in and out of consciousness for a while. Couldn’t have been the initial drug, so I guess they’ve been dosing me since.” She moved her leg, revealing a thermos sitting on the floor near her hip. “I didn’t drink any more water after I figured that out, and my head cleared right up.”
“But you can’t go without water indefinitely.” I examined the door to the tack room. The thrown bolt was visible through the cracks between the wallboards.
“I don’t think they mean to keep me indefinitely,” said Sunny. “Or you, I’m afraid.”
I stared at her. “What do you mean?”
“Face it, Amy. They mean to kill us sooner or later. Not sure why they haven’t yet, to be honest.” As Sunny lifted her hand to rub at her eyes, her fingers trembled. “I heard them conspiring. When I walked up behind Sylvia Baker at the protest, she was talking to Don on her phone. I knew it was him because she stupidly said his name. Right after she mentioned something about taking care of Bob Blackstone just like the others. I didn’t put it together right away, but I guess Sylvia thought I’d heard too much and figured I might mention something to Brad, so . . .”
“She and Don grabbed you.” I pressed my back into the rough boards of the wall behind me. “Because they killed Doris and Clark Fowler. Well, Sylvia pulled the trigger, but Don helped cover it up.”
“I figured. Otherwise, why be so worried about what I might’ve heard?”
I touched my left temple and grimaced. There was a painful knot right above my ear. That blasted gun. But at least Sylvia hadn’t decided to shoot me. Yet. “It all sprang from Don’s blackmail of Bob and Sylvia.”
“Really? What would Dr. Virts have on them?”
As I outlined what I’d heard from Sylvia and a few of my own theories, Sunny looked puzzled, then angry.
“But why grab you? I was the only one who overheard them plotting on their phones.”
I shrugged. “Sylvia knows we’re close, so I guess she was afraid you’d told me something. And I was nosing around, you know, discovering information. She might’ve been worried about that, although I’m not sure how she would’ve known . . . Anyway, I think there’s another less-conscious reason. Something to do with my inheritance of Aunt Lydia’s house. Maybe I’m the one who sounds crazy now, but seriously, Sylvia can’t be in her right mind if she thinks murder is the proper way to get ahead in life.” I scooted closer to Sunny and put my arm around her shoulders. “I’m so sorry you’re caught up in all this. Can’t believe someone in my family is to blame.”
“Not your fault.” Sunny laid her head on my shoulder. “You and Lydia don’t even have a relationship with Sylvia. She might as well be a stranger.”
“I know, but it’s still family.” I considered what Aunt Lydia had said about my mother. Had Mom really been traumatized because a grandmother she despised had turned out to be even more evil than she thought? It was possible. I sure felt guilty about Sylvia’s actions, and I hardly knew her.
I heard the scuff of shoes on gravel and froze.
Sunny lifted her head. “I think they’re right outside,” she said softly, then touched her fingers to her lips.
“Want to see if I can hear anything,” I whispered back before crawling to the tack room door.
I pressed my ear to the solid door, then slid over to the adjoining wall. The chinks between its boards offered a better listening post. I tried to see anything through the cracks but only spied feet.
“Don’t want your gun,” Don Virts said, kicking a few stones with his loafers.
“Take it,” Sylvia commanded. Her black leather pumps were scuffed, probably from chasing me down. “Somebody has to get rid of those girls, and it’s not going to be me.”
I shivered as if drenched by a bucket of ice but held up my hand when Sunny mouthed, What are they saying?
“Oh, I see. You have no trouble putting a bullet in my mother or Clark Fowler but can’t shoot the two young women who could wreck all our plans?” Don kicked some more gravel. “What’re you going do with that gun, anyway? You don’t plan to hang onto it, I hope.”
“Why shouldn’t I? It’s not registered to me. I acquired it through, shall we say, back channels. In fact, it’s the very one I want you to use. No way to trace it to either of us.”
“You are a cool customer, aren’t you? I bet you just sauntered away from those murder scenes without any care for blood spatter or anything else too.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I took precautions. Wore gloves and cheap raincoats and ditched them in a trash bag I carried in my handbag. I could stuff all that and the gun in my purse, and no one would ever question me, because who notices an older woman carrying a large handbag?”
“Bold as brass.” There was a tinge of admiration in Don Virts’s voice. But fear too. Definitely some fear.
“I knew no one would suspect me. Why would they? I am a harmless woman. A pillar of society. A contributor to many worthy causes.”
“And my bank account, which is also worthy.” Something snide had crept into Don’s tone.
“You flatter yourself. You are a worthless blackmailer, nothing more. You couldn’t even manage to kill Bob Blackstone. It’s quite likely he’ll
recover, and what then?”
I motioned for Sunny. “Sylvia’s talking to Don about the blackmail,” I whispered when Sunny moved next to me.
Anything else? Sunny mouthed. I shook my head, not wanting to frighten her with Sylvia’s murderous request of Don.
“One of us will have to shut him up permanently before that happens.” Don tapped his loafers against the ground. “He can’t be allowed to reveal I was blackmailing him. That would blow everything wide open.”
Black heels spun, spitting out a shower of gravel. “What’s that? Who’s there?”
“I don’t see anything.”
“There, in the trees. A shadowy figure.” Sylvia’s voice, usually so clear and firm, cracked on that last word. “Is someone watching us? Did you bring along an accomplice?”
Don snorted. “No, certainly not. I wouldn’t want to deal with yet another person in something as distasteful as this. It’s bad enough I have to work with you. And anyway, there’s no one there.”
“Very well, I suppose my eyes deceived me.” Sylvia’s voice regained its typical cool tone as the black pumps turned to face Don’s loafers. “And as for selecting your compatriots wisely, you must admit you were foolish in your choice of Bob as a blackmail victim. He had no stomach for murder, did he? Happy to buy your silence about that iron contamination on his property but not willing to keep his mouth shut when he figured out who was behind the murders. A weak man, in the end. The kind who’d roll over if the authorities questioned him more than once. You should have thought of that.”
“He wouldn’t have figured it out if you hadn’t forced me to help you kidnap the Fields girl. That’s what made it all click in his mind, or so he told me when he threatened to go to the sheriff’s office with what he knew.”
Sylvia laughed, a harsh squawk that held no humor. “So you decided to just run him off the road instead of confronting him face-to-face? That was a coward’s trick. But of course, taking advantage of your own mother and her secret was pretty low too.”
A Murder for the Books Page 24