Sweet Magic

by Connie Shelton

  Kelly’s face paled and she curled up protectively.

  “Leave her alone. Just go,” Sam said, trying for a firm tone but thinking she sounded shaky.

  “Oh, no, that’s not how this works,” he hissed. “You and I have an important errand.”

  He jabbed Sam’s ribs with the barrel of the gun. With a final backward glance at her daughter and a meaningful look, Sam walked to the kitchen door. Marcus paused and turned to Kelly again. “If I don’t get what I need from your mom, I’ll be back.”

  Sam knew what he wanted. The man would not stop until he had both boxes. Would he kill the two women once he had the prizes? She wouldn’t put it past him. What did he have to lose? The FBI already suspected him for one murder. But, she knew, they had very little evidence against Fitch. She might be able to use that knowledge as a bargaining chip.

  Marcus stepped in close behind her, in case a neighbor or passing car caught a glimpse, and nudged her toward her pickup truck.

  “You’re driving. Your place, as I’m sure you know.”

  Her eyes darted back and forth, looking for anything that might help. She could hit the panic button on her key fob, but there wasn’t a soul in sight on the quiet lane, no one to question or react. She opened her door and climbed into the driver’s seat. No point in trying to drive away fast—he would simply go back in the house and kill her daughter as a lesson. He wasn’t going to let them go until he had the boxes in his greedy hands.

  She remembered her cell phone in her pants front pocket, but Fitch was inside the truck in under two seconds, and the gun was pointing directly at her gut. She started the truck.

  “Fasten your seatbelt,” she told him.

  “How kind of you to care about my safety, but I’m not taking my eyes off you.”

  “Fine.” She sent a smug look toward him.

  He seemed to realize she could cause trouble with the truck, so he switched the gun to his left hand for a moment and stretched the belt into position. While he did so, Sam made a production about fastening her own belt. The last number she’d dialed on her phone had been Beau’s; if she could only get it to redial … She fussed with the seat belt and touched the button on the phone as she clicked her belt in place.

  Now, to feed enough clues to her husband. She prayed. If this call went to voicemail she and her daughter were most likely doomed.

  She talked loudly and used Marcus’s name, until he shouted at her to shut up. By the time they reached the ranch house he was agitated and twitchy. Ranger and Nellie saw Sam’s truck and ran forward to greet her, stopping when they saw the stranger whose scent bothered them. Hair bristling and teeth bared they started to circle.

  Fitch aimed the pistol at the border collie first.

  “No! I’ll get them under control,” Sam pleaded.

  He kept the pistol in place. “You got one chance.”

  She grabbed Nellie’s collar. Was this a mistake? The two dogs might jump him, take him down. But she couldn’t let them take the chance. Not against a gun.

  She got Ranger’s collar and led the two dogs into the kitchen, firmly closing the door.

  “The box,” Fitch said with a nervous glance toward the scratching sounds at the kitchen door. “Get it.”

  Sam looked around. “Let me see … I can’t remember where I left it.”

  “Your friend Isobel said something about keeping it locked in a safe.”

  “Uh, well, I take it out and use it for my jewelry a lot of the time. I’m pretty sure I left it upstairs in the bathroom.”

  He followed her up the stairs. At the top she was tempted to spin around and kick the gun from his hand, but he’d gained on her and the barrel was again pressed into her ribcage.

  “You’d be dumb to try anything,” he said. “Don’t forget I know where your daughter is and she’s sitting there helpless at the moment.”

  “Just hold on. I’ll find the stupid box. You can have it.” She went through the motions of checking the bathroom vanity and a dresser in the bedroom.

  “No reaching into any drawers,” he said, more impatiently than ever.

  “I might have left it in the living room.” She headed back down the stairs, taking her time. Please, Beau, get here and have the whole squad with you. She scanned the living room windows for any sign of his cruiser, actually debated making a run for the front door for one crazy moment.

  “Find that damned thing now!” Fitch yelled.

  She desperately didn’t want to reveal the safe. Standing in the narrow coat closet, she would be pinned, with no way to escape his bullet once she’d taken the box from its hiding place. At that point he would have nothing to lose by killing her.

  The dogs were yipping now, scratching the kitchen door as if they would take it down.

  In a corner of the front window, Sam caught a glimpse of a khaki uniform.

  Fitch caught the movement too. He yanked Sam’s shirt tail and flung her toward the couch. “Sit there!” he hissed as he tucked himself behind the front door.

  Slowly the handle turned and the door swung inward on silent hinges. Beau led with his pistol held in a firm shooter’s stance. His eyes sent Sam a questioning glance when he spotted her on the couch. She tried to tilt her head toward Fitch but he saw the motion.

  In a blur, Fitch grabbed the door and yanked it inward. Shots rang from both weapons, a deafening explosion. Sam’s hands went to her ears, her eyes blinking against the horrific noise and smell of gunpowder.

  When she opened them and looked, Fitch was on the run toward the woods. Beau lay on the floor. She raced to his side. A plate-sized blood stain had already filled the center of his shirt.

  Chapter 43

  Evan Richards was the first of the deputies to run into the house. His boots screeched a little on the wood floor when he saw Beau. Sam had grabbed a wool blanket from the sofa, folded it into a thick square, and was holding it against the wound.

  “This is serious,” she said, pressing Beau’s chest as hard as she could. “Get us the fastest ride to the hospital that you can.”

  He reached for his shoulder mike and gave the code for a law officer down.

  Rico’s cruiser roared into the driveway and Evan ran out to meet him. “Keep vehicles out of the way,” he shouted. “We need space for medical help.”

  Rico took his vehicle closer to the barn, ran back to the house, and began directing others. “Where’s the suspect?”

  Sam didn’t look up. “It’s Marcus Fitch again. He ran toward the woods, but it’s probably been a couple minutes or more. You might catch him on the county road.”

  Rico ran back outside and sent one of the other cruisers in pursuit.

  “Helicopter’s on the way in,” Evan announced. “Beau, if you can hear me, just hang in there.”

  No response.

  The whopping sound of the rotor blades reached Sam. She talked quietly to Beau, assuring him. Still no response. And in one minute, it was all out of her hands.

  “They said it was a chest wound,” said a breathless EMT who rushed to take over. Another wheeled a gurney across the porch and they slid a board under Beau. They cut away his clothing and pressed an oxygen mask to his face.

  Evan stepped over to Sam and helped her to her feet, holding her close against his chest.

  “We gotta get him to the trauma center in Albuquerque,” she heard the EMT say. “Taos hospital can’t handle something like—” He glanced at her and quit talking.

  “I’m coming with you,” she said.

  As they wheeled Beau to the waiting helicopter, she grabbed her bag from the truck. “Evan—can you take care of the dogs and post a guard on the house? What Fitch wants is still here. And—” The thought hit her suddenly. “Go by Kelly’s and take care of her. She can explain.”

  Explain the completely surreal turn all their lives had taken this morning? How?

  Chapter 44

  Marcus thanked his lucky stars for the foresight to do all that jogging in the past few week
s, although he had to admit the air here at seven thousand feet was a lot thinner. He had a terrible stitch in his side, and by the time he’d covered the half mile to the county road he felt almost ready to pass out. He gripped the painful spot, gasping, and his hand came away with blood. Not much, and it didn’t show on his black shirt. He heard a vehicle.

  Not law enforcement, he saw with relief. Some kind of old farm pickup truck that had once been white but now wore a coating of brown mud spatter. He turned his wounded side away and stuck out his thumb.

  “What’s a matter?” asked the old guy behind the wheel.

  “Aw, stupid me. I started out jogging and didn’t realize what a hot day it was. Can you give me a lift? I live near the gas station, the one by the intersection at 64.”

  “Ya oughta carry water, you know. Middle of summer, not smart to get all dried out.”

  Marcus gritted his teeth and climbed in the passenger side of the truck. He wished the old man would just shut up and drive but he didn’t dare show the pistol he’d tucked into the back of his pants or reveal his wound. Even though his shirt tail covered it, leaning back against the inflexible bench seat made the gun dig into his back.

  Two Taos County Sheriff’s Department vehicles roared by in the opposite direction, lights and sirens going full bore, and the old man pulled off the side of the road to let them have plenty of clearance. Marcus pretended interest in a big tree out the side window.

  Damn that Samantha Sweet. Somehow, she’d managed to get that sheriff husband of hers out to the house in the time she’d stalled him over getting the box out of the safe. And why’d the sheriff have to come walking in like that? If he’d stayed back and shouted through a bullhorn or something … well, he wouldn’t have needed to get shot.

  Don’t be an ass, Marcus. The sheriff didn’t ask for it. You did it. You killed a lawman. He knuckled the side of his head to get the voice out of there.

  “Here, this is close enough,” he said to the pickup driver.

  “It’s just the convenience store and gas station. No houses around here.”

  “Yeah, well, my neighbor works there. He’ll give me a ride home when he gets off in, uh, half an hour.” Marcus opened his door and was halfway out.

  The old guy looked at him a little strangely. “Okay, you say so.”

  Marcus went inside the store and bought a roadmap. At this point he just needed to get back to Colorado Springs and the private plane that would fly him to the coast, but he wasn’t sure what his options were. He sneaked a peek at his wound, relieved to see it wasn’t bleeding heavily. It stung like crazy though. He looked out toward the gas pumps.

  Two people were gassing up—one a hefty twenty-something guy in a muscle shirt and baggy shorts. The other was a petite girl probably still in high school. She was chewing gum and studying the instructions on the pump. As the big guy finished and got into his truck, Marcus approached the girl.

  “Need some help?” He flashed a smile.

  “My mom didn’t give me her card today, so I guess it says here I gotta go inside and pay with cash before this thing will start up.”

  “Um, yeah, that’s probably right. If you want to go in, I can start it pumping the gas as soon as the attendant turns it on,” he said, noticing she’d left her keys in the ignition.

  “Oh! Okay, cool. Thanks.” She started for the building, tottering on platform shoes that nearly unbalanced her.

  The moment she entered the building, Marcus hopped behind the wheel of her car, jammed it in gear, and roared out onto Highway 64. It was the main drag through Taos, and he could only hope he didn’t get caught up in traffic before he got to Kelly Sweet’s house. Or before this tub ran out of gas, he thought as he noticed the gauge. Sure, the girl could report it stolen, but that would take a while and by his guess local law enforcement was just a little bit busy right now.

  He felt his temper rise again. Another way Samantha Sweet had screwed him. She’d locked her truck when they arrived at her house, with the box he’d taken from her daughter’s place inside. He’d debated smashing a window, but the sirens in the distance, so soon after he’d fired at that sheriff … he’d been too flustered to think straight. One extra minute and he would have had it. Was there nothing that could go his way today?

  Okay, Fitch, he lectured himself. Stay cool and think ahead. At least get back to the rental car. You just need the backpack with that Facinor box—well, and the cash. That’s step one. Step two—find the quickest way to Colorado Springs, preferably on a route where there won’t be a lot of cops looking for you.

  The stolen car ran out of gas a block from Kelly’s house. But that was fine. They’d chalk it up to him being a joyrider and at least no one would track him down on that little offense.

  He practically tiptoed up the driveway where his rental still sat, watching her windows, although he’d tied her up solidly enough she wouldn’t be getting up off the floor anytime soon. He backed carefully out and left the short lane where she lived, making a right turn on Kit Carson Road.

  He needed to pull over somewhere and study the map or check to see if his phone app actually got a signal out here in the sticks, but he sure wasn’t going to do it until that cop car behind him went somewhere else. When it turned onto the same lane he’d just left, he counted his blessings. Close, but not close enough, copper!

  Chapter 45

  Kelly felt new energy surge through her as she bit through the edge of the plastic strip around her ankle. Thank goodness for flexibility from all those yoga classes, she thought wryly, and for having handled the box this morning. But the smile died on her lips. Her mother was out there and her life was in the hands of Marcus Fitch.

  The man was certifiably insane. The crazed look in his eye when he’d burst in earlier and spotted the carved box, Manichee, on her table told it all.

  She got to her feet and managed to pull the heavy wingback chair into the kitchen. A knife would be a much quicker way to remove the remaining ties. Still, working a knife with her teeth until she freed one hand wasn’t a fast process. And the whole time she was thinking, what next?

  She discarded the idea of calling Sam—if Fitch was still with her, a ringing phone could set him off. The smart thing would be to call Beau, get the sheriff’s department out to the ranch house to arrest him. She sawed away until the last of the ties came off. Her wrists were puffy and red, but at least she was free.

  She peered out the kitchen window and froze when she saw the plain white car Fitch had arrived in. Of course—he’d forced Sam to drive her truck. He would either need Sam to give him a ride back here, or he had simply ditched this car. She should convince Beau to send a deputy here to wait for Fitch to come back. She dialed the department.

  “Dixie, it’s Kelly Sweet, um, Porter. I really need to talk to Beau.”

  “Oh, honey …” The dispatcher’s voice cracked. “You haven’t heard.”

  The news sent Kelly to the floor, her knees folding, her back grazing the kitchen cupboards as she sank. Beau, shot? She couldn’t believe it.

  “Where’s my mom?” Sobs broke up her words.

  “Let me find out for you, honey.” Dixie didn’t even bother to put the phone on hold while she radioed.

  Kelly caught words here and there but not enough to make sense of the conversation, which was completely unreal to her.

  “Kelly? Deputy Rico says Deputy Evan just left for your house. Stay there and he can fill you in. He’ll be there real soon, okay?”

  “Dixie! Don’t hang up. Is my mom hurt too? Did that guy kill them both? Please tell me.”

  “Nobody’s been killed,” Dixie said. “But Beau’s hurt real bad and is on the way to the trauma center in Albuquerque. I think your mom’s with him. Deputy Evan was there. He can tell you all about it. Give him about fifteen minutes.”

  A tornado of emotion whirled through her as she set the phone down. Her head felt stuffed with cotton and her ears echoed with a tunnel-like hollowness. She thought she h
eard a car on the gravel driveway but didn’t have the energy to look up. Evan would be here in a while. She trusted him. He was Riki’s fiancé, a good man.

  But she needed to be held and loved. She dialed Scott and blurted out the skimpy details she knew.

  “I’m on my way home,” he said immediately.

  She felt drained by the whole day’s experience, and it wasn’t over yet. When Scott and Evan both arrived at the same time, she got up to let them in. That’s when she realized the white sedan was no longer in her driveway.

  Chapter 46

  An hour after arrival at UNM Hospital, Sam felt her brain unraveling. She half-remembered giving Evan orders to take care of things at home and to inform Kelly, telling Rico about Marcus Fitch and the direction he’d taken when he ran.

  But had she really acted with such clarity? Had she only imagined her reactions, which now seemed fuzzy in her memory?

  The entire day seemed like a blur now, from the landing of the helicopter on the hospital roof, to the trauma team rushing out to get Beau and whisk him away, to the nurses and orderlies who physically had to hold her back from chasing his gurney down the hall and into the surgical suite. She sat on a stiff chair in the waiting area, fiddling with the strap on her purse, unable to think of anything but the horrible wounds she’d barely glimpsed on Beau’s body.

  Kelly had called. Sam couldn’t even remember what they’d said to each other, but she had the impression Kelly and Scott were on their way.

  “Mrs. Cardwell?” A blonde nurse in scrubs stood near her chair.

  “Oh, god …”

  “There’s no news. The doctor just sent me out here to let you know your husband is still in surgery.” She lowered her voice and sat in the empty chair next to Sam. “The worst of the wounds is near the heart. We’re doing everything we can to repair the damage, but it’s a very tricky area. The other shot went through his shoulder, badly grazing the bone.”