Arresting Developments

by LENA DIAZ,

  “Sounds kind of creepy.”

  “Yeah, knowing that Mallory’s dead now, murdered, it seems way creepy.” He glanced around the room. “And I don’t have a clue where Mitchell is right now.” He suddenly rose from his chair and held out his hand. “Let’s get out of here. We’re both tired after not getting much sleep last night. And I’d feel a lot safer closing my eyes with a locked door between us and whoever has those guns—whether it’s Mitchell or someone else.”

  * * *

  THERE WAS NO passion or heat between them this time. They were both far too tired for that. But nothing felt better to Amber than being curled up in Dex’s arms on the big, soft feather bed in her room. It had only taken a few minutes for both of them to fall asleep, and she’d slept better than she had in years, feeling safer than she ever had, even knowing that Mallory’s killer was still in the house somewhere. The door was locked, her Colt .45 was sitting on the bedside table. She had no reason to worry, as long as they were cocooned in here together.

  Or, at least, she shouldn’t. But something had jerked her out of a sound sleep, and she had no clue what it was. The sunlight against the window blinds, what little peeked through the cloudy skies outside that were still dumping rain down on them, told her it was probably already afternoon. But the sun wasn’t bright enough to have woken her. So what had?

  Dex’s arms tightened around her and his mouth moved close to her ear. “You heard it, too?” he whispered. “Close your eyes. Pretend you’re asleep.”

  She squeezed his hand around her waist to let him know that she’d heard him, and she kept her eyes closed, breathing deep and even.

  The tiniest creak, like a squeaky door hinge, sounded from across the room.

  Suddenly Dex jumped out of the bed. Amber opened her eyes just in time to see him disappearing through an opening in the far wall, his footsteps echoing back to her. She blinked in shock as she realized what she was looking at was a hidden door, much like the small panels her grandpa had for storing things in the walls. But this opening was large enough for people. It looked like a hallway. She turned and reached for the gun on the table, but it was gone. She curled her fingers into her palms. Please let it be Dex who took the gun.

  She hopped out of bed and ran to the opening. It wasn’t completely dark. A wall sconce about ten feet in cast more shadow than light, but it allowed her to see enough to realize what she was looking at. She’d lived in this house off and on for years and had never realized it had secret passageways. Was that how the killer had shot Mallory and disappeared so quickly? Had he discovered one of the openings and used it to get in and out of her room?

  “Dex?” she whispered, in case he was still close enough to hear her. No answer. And she couldn’t hear footsteps, either.

  She couldn’t believe he’d chased whoever had opened that panel. It was foolhardy and dangerous. And brave. She couldn’t fault him for that. He wanted to catch the killer as much as she did, but he should have waited for her. She knew this house inside and out. Okay, not the secret passageway, or passageways, but she knew the rest of the house. Dex didn’t. If he went through another panel he might get lost in a part of the house he’d never been in. And he was following a killer who had at least four guns—the one he’d used to kill Mallory, plus those that Amy, Aunt Freddie and Buddy had given up.

  She had to help him.

  She ran to her dresser and grabbed some jeans and a T-shirt and quickly tugged them on. Then she took the only weapon that she had, her knife, and attached the sheath at her waist. Bringing a knife to a gunfight wasn’t the best possible scenario, but at least it gave her a chance. She drew a deep breath, then stepped into the passageway.

  * * *

  DEX FLATTENED HIMSELF against the wall, the revolver in his hand as he inched toward the next turn. He’d only caught glimpses of the person he was following, but he’d seen enough to know that he was definitely chasing a man—which ruled out Aunt Freddie and Amy, not that he’d really considered them suspects. But he was also chasing a young man, which ruled out Buddy, and he was chasing someone over six feet, close to his own height of six-two, which ruled out Derek, who was an inch shy of the six foot mark. That left only two possibilities—his assistant or his lawyer. Both of those possibilities left a bitter taste in his mouth. He’d trusted them with some of the most intimate and important details of his life, and one of them had betrayed him in the worst way, by killing an innocent woman. And now, whoever was stalking these dark halls had committed another sin—he’d threatened Amber by opening that panel into their room.

  Dex hadn’t been taking the search for the killer all that seriously, hoping to just wait it out until the storm cleared and the water level went down and they could get the police in here to take over. But now he realized he couldn’t risk waiting any longer. He had to step up his game and figure out who was behind everything. Waiting and risking that Amber might get hurt—or worse—was unacceptable.

  He tightened his hold on his gun and ducked down to make himself less of a target, then whirled around the corner, pointing the gun out in front of him. There, the silhouette of a man at the far end of the passageway ducked back behind the corner.

  “Throw your gun out and give up, Mitchell,” Dex called out, making a guess as to the identity.

  Laughter echoed back to him, then the sound of running feet.

  Damn. What did that mean? That it wasn’t Mitchell? Was it Garreth, then? Dex took off running toward the next corner. He stopped and ducked down again, peering around the edge of the wall. The light from a sconce reflected off metal. He swore and lunged back just as a bullet ripped through the corner of the wall, its boom echoing through the tunnel.

  Dex raised his gun again and ran past the wall, firing off two quick rounds. The man at the other end dove behind the next corner. Dex took off, running as fast he could. Both his footsteps and the other man’s pounded against the hardwood floors. When he reached the next turn, he didn’t stop this time. He raced around it, ready to end this.

  He turned the corner at full speed. Ah, hell. He raised his arms to protect his face, unable to stop as he slammed against the wall that marked the end of the passage. Stinging pain shot through his shoulder as he busted through a hole in the drywall and slid to the floor. Plaster and dust rained down on him and he waved his hand in front of his face.

  Footsteps pounded on the wooden floor again, from the direction where he’d just come from. He raised his gun and aimed it at the corner. He kept his finger on the rail beside the trigger, waiting, waiting.

  His nemesis rounded the corner at full tilt. Dex jerked his gun up toward the ceiling just as Amber barreled into his chest. He grunted as he caught the full brunt of her to keep her from crashing into the wall. She let out a little shriek of fear a second before she recognized him.

  After quickly stowing the gun, he cradled her against him, his hand shaking as he rubbed it down her back. If he hadn’t hesitated long enough to realize she was far too small to be the man he was after, he could have shot her. And, at this close range, he wouldn’t have missed.

  “Dex, ease up. I can’t breathe,” she choked.

  He forced himself to relax his grip, but he couldn’t bring himself to let her go. “Amber, what are you doing in here? I could have killed you,” he rasped.

  She pushed against his chest and he reluctantly let her go. “I’m sorry. I heard shots. I thought you might be hurt, or need help. I was so scared.”

  “Scared for me?”

  She nodded. “Of course.” She ran her hands up and down him as if searching for wounds.

  “I’m fine. He didn’t hit me. But he got away. I chased him around this corner, but he was gone. There must be another panel here somewhere.”

  She sat back on her knees. “You saw him?”

  “Only in shadow. But I can rule out everyone but Garret
h and Mitchell. I’m leaning more toward Garreth now.”

  “Why?” she asked, as he stood and helped her to her feet.

  “Because I called out Mitchell’s name and whoever I was chasing laughed.”

  She shivered. “Creepy.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it.” He felt along the walls. “The panel has to be here somewhere. He couldn’t have gotten back down the passageway past me.” He ran his hands along the walls, looking for a seam.

  Amber stepped farther back toward the corner. “Dex, there, look. I can see some light under the wall over here.”

  He bent down and studied where she was pointing. “You’re right. But I don’t see a seam in the wall. It’s all drywall.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think the panel is in the wall. It’s in the floor.”

  He backed up, and, sure enough, there was a darker square of wood in the center of the floor. Once he bent down and studied it, the opening mechanism was immediately clear. A wood knot had been removed and in the depression was a small, round knob no bigger than a quarter.

  “You okay covering me?” he asked, holding up the revolver.

  She rolled her eyes. “Is a spatterdock yellow?”

  “Well, since I have no clue what a spatterdock is, I really couldn’t say.”

  “Of course I’ll cover you.” She took the gun.

  He hesitated. “Be careful. Stand back.” He grabbed the little knob, then flung the wooden panel up on its hinge and stood back, expecting the gunman to be hiding below. But no shots rang out. He eased back to the edge and leaned down to get a look inside.

  “It’s a short tunnel, more or less about ten feet long. Goes in only one direction. Back toward the way we came. Wait here.”

  “No way. We’re doing this together. No more running off into danger without me. We’re a team, Dex.”

  He didn’t like the idea of putting her in danger, but leaving her behind while he continued deeper into the bowels of the house didn’t feel safe, either. “All right. But I go first. And before you say it, no, you keep the gun. No arguments on that.”

  She didn’t appear to like his conditions, but she gave him a tight nod.

  He braced his hands on both sides of the opening and dropped down into the cramped space, which was only about three feet tall. As soon as he did, the opening above him shut. He glanced up in surprise, noting the ropes and pulleys that had automatically closed the trapdoor and the rubber gasket on this side around the opening, which had stifled any sound.

  The door opened again, and Amber looked down at him. “What was that about?”

  He motioned toward the pulley system. “Looks like your grandpa designed the door to close on its own so he wouldn’t have to close it himself. Assuming he ever ran around in these corridors.”

  She lowered herself over the opening and Dex grabbed her around the waist. He gently set her down and the trap door again quietly but quickly closed behind them.

  “Cool,” she said. “I can’t believe he built all of this and never told me. I would have had so much fun as a kid in here.”

  “Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell you. He didn’t want to worry about you running around in the walls and maybe getting lost or hurt. But why would he even build these tunnels?”

  “He was always a bit paranoid. Maybe he thought they’d give him a way to escape if an intruder ever got into the house. Who knows? Do you see another way out?”

  He nodded. “This is apparently a short crawl space beneath the floor above, but it’s not low enough to be on the first floor or we’d be in water right now. There’s another panel on the ceiling, at the end. Probably opens into another passageway. Do you have any idea where we are right now?”

  “If I had to guess, from the directions I ran above, we’re somewhere near the second-floor library.”

  They moved to the end of the crawl space and Amber reached up for the panel above them, but Dex pushed her back.

  “I go first,” he said. “If the killer is waiting for us on the other side, I don’t want you to get shot.”

  “Well, hello, the feeling is mutual. And I’m the one with the gun.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Step back, Amber.”

  “You’re being a Neanderthal. I can protect myself, you know.”

  He cupped her face in his hands and leaned down to give her a soft kiss. When he pulled back, he searched her eyes. “I know you can protect yourself. You protected me back in the swamp. In fact, you saved my life. Now it’s my turn, okay? I couldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you.”

  Her eyes turned misty. “You say the sweetest things.” She pulled him down for another kiss, and this one wasn’t soft. By the time they broke apart, both of them were panting.

  Dex was left resenting the killer even more, because if it weren’t for him, he’d be back in the bed with Amber right now showing her just how sweet he could be.

  He forced himself to step away from her and temptation and studied the panel above him to see how to open it. There, on the top corner, another knot had been removed and there was a knob. At least Grandpa was consistent. Dex reached for the knob.

  A muffled scream sounded from above them.

  Dex shared a surprised look with Amber, then shoved the knob. The panel flew open, the pulley system helping raise it quickly and silently like the other panel. Dex stood up, noting Amber had been right. This was the library, and the opening was back in a corner surrounded by floor-to-ceiling bookcases. He quickly hopped out and braced the panel to keep it from automatically closing, while Amber followed close behind.

  The scream sounded again.

  Dex and Amber took off running down an aisle between bookshelves and came out into the end of the library, close to where they’d been sitting earlier that morning.

  Aunt Freddie was sitting on one of the couches, her face ghastly pale. Buddy was using a magazine to fan her. Derek stood beside them, and all three stared at Amber and Dex in surprise.

  “Where did you two come from?” Derek demanded, his surprise turning to suspicion.

  Amber gave Dex a puzzled look as they hurried to the group.

  “What’s going on?” Dex asked, not bothering with explanations. “Who screamed?”

  Aunt Freddie pushed Buddy away and shakily rose to her feet, half leaning on him as he helped her up. “I did.” Without another word, she pointed across the room.

  Dex and Amber both followed the direction in which she was pointing. There, on top of a side table next to a chair, was a bunched-up white blouse with red splotches on it that looked like blood.

  “It’s Amy’s,” Freddie announced. “And she’s missing.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Everyone started talking at once.

  Dex held his hands up. “Hold it. Everyone quiet.”

  The library fell silent. As one, Aunt Freddie, Buddy and Derek looked at Dex. He lowered his hands.

  “Okay, I’ll start. Amber and I noticed the guns were missing from the trunk earlier, as we were all escaping the floodwaters to go upstairs.”

  Derek fisted his hands beside him, his jaw tight and angry. “And you didn’t think it was a good idea to tell the rest of us?”

  “I didn’t want to panic anyone. We knew the killer already had a gun somewhere, so it didn’t really change things.”

  “Except to make you the only one with access to a gun.” He waved at the Colt that Amber now had tucked into her waistband. “Or the two of you. Hell, maybe you’re both the killers.”

  Buddy stepped forward, using his bulk to force Derek back a few feet. “No one is going to blame Amber again for another murder, so you can just stop that right now. And as far as that other lady goes, like I already said, Dex and I reached the room at the same time. He couldn’t have killed
her. Plus, I know who took the guns.”

  “Who?” Dex and Derek asked at the same time.

  “Me. I didn’t cotton to the idea of the murderer being the only armed one around here, so I hid them in case we needed them. Looks like that was a good idea after all.” He eyed Derek with distaste. “Except I’m not sure who to trust around here.”

  Derek’s eyes narrowed. “Are you accusing me of something, old man?”

  “Well, you were the one getting cozy with Amy earlier. And now she’s missing.”

  Derek stepped forward, his hands in fists.

  “Stop it, you two.” Dex shoved Derek, who glared at him in return. To the others, Dex said, “Derek isn’t the threat here.”

  “And how do you know that?” Aunt Freddie chimed in, standing close to Buddy in a united front against an angry-looking Derek.

  “Because someone opened a hidden panel in Amber’s room a little while ago. And I’m pretty sure I saw another panel open in Mallory’s room earlier and just didn’t realize it at the time. The killer is using hidden passageways to get around the house. And I saw him. He’s definitely not Derek.”

  “You saw him?” Derek asked. “Who is it, then?”

  “One of the only two men not in this room, Mitchell or Garreth. I only saw him in shadows.”

  “Then how do you know it’s not this guy?” Buddy waved at Derek.

  “Because the man I saw was—”

  “Taller,” Derek said, sounding weary. “I’m the short man out. I get it. Fine. So it’s Mitchell or Garreth. One of them has Amy. I say we tear this place apart and find them. After we get those guns.”

  Buddy shook his head. “Nope. Like I said, I don’t trust you. I’ll give Freddie a gun, and Dex, though.”

  “You’ll give me one, too.” Derek drew himself up as if to intimidate Buddy, but the old man just ignored him. “I’ll go get them.”

  “Wait.” Dex held up his hand. “Buddy, Derek arrived in that hallway outside Mallory’s room at the same time that we did. And he’s not the man who shot at me in the passageways. So I think we can all agree he’s not the killer. Derek needs to protect himself, too.”