by Gerri Hill
“That don’t mean that Ned’s here. Could be from anybody.”
Frankly, Kayla was surprised that there were tracks there at all. Murphy’s hunch that maybe Lance Foster owned this property had been simply that…a hunch, a gut feeling on her part. At the time, she’d thought they were grasping at straws, trying to find some kind of lead, any lead. The chances that they’d stumble upon Ned had been slim, at best. Now, as her adrenaline kicked in, she had a feeling that’s exactly what had happened.
“We’ve got to check it out,” Murphy said as her father continued past the house.
“Don’t see any cars. No truck. If somebody was here, they’re long gone,” he said.
“Could have stashed the truck back in the woods. That’s what he did at his cabin,” Kayla said.
“You think he’s back there hiding? He’s bound to know we’re looking for him by now.”
“How so? He thinks we’re still tied up. He thinks you’re on your way to a funeral, along with the rest of the town.”
“That may be, but a part of him has to think that you could have escaped by now,” he said. He glanced over at Murphy. “How did you get untied, anyway?”
“Flexible fingers,” she said, holding her hands up and wiggling her fingers.
Kayla nearly snorted with laughter. “You don’t say?”
Her father looked back at her but said nothing as he turned his car around. “Guess it won’t hurt to drive in and see if we can follow the tracks.”
The five-acre lot was open in the front where the mobile home was, only a few trees remaining, including the huge dead one that hovered directly over the house. Beyond the house, however, the woods were thick and overgrown. If Lance Foster did indeed own this and he was using it to hide cash, why not stash it in the house somewhere? But the tracks didn’t stop at the house. They continued on into the woods, the old lane now overgrown with weeds and small saplings.
She was as shocked as anyone to see a black truck squeezed into the woods, the driver’s door standing open. Her father came to a sudden stop, jarring them all in their seats.
“That stupid son of a bitch,” he muttered.
Like Murphy, she was scanning the area around them, but she saw no movement. The tailgate on the truck was down and two shovels were tossed on the back.
“Okay, if you’re Lance Foster, are you really going to bring cash out here in the woods and dig a hole and bury it?” Murphy asked. “I only saw him a couple of times, but he was always dressed impeccably…suit, tie, the works. I don’t see it.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” she said. “Why not put it in the house?”
“Lance Foster didn’t bury any goddamn money. And if he did, how in the hell would Ned know where to dig?”
They all got out, and while her father’s attention was solely on the truck, she and Murphy were looking around them, into the woods. They weren’t so thick that you couldn’t see, but the trees were plenty big enough for someone to hide behind.
“No keys inside, but he did leave this behind,” he said as he carried a duffel bag around to the back of the truck. He unzipped it and held up two cell phones. “These possibly yours?”
Kayla snatched hers out of his hand and held it lovingly to her chest. “Yes, thank you very much.” She raised her eyebrows. “I don’t suppose our weapons are in there, huh?”
“Nope. I guess he thought he might need those.” He tossed the other phone to Murphy. “Nothing much in here. Change of clothes, some socks. No money, in other words.” He looked down the road from which they’d come, his gaze on the old house. “My guess is, they did what Kayla suggested…stashed his truck back here in the woods, took off in Charlotte’s car.” He left the duffel bag on back of the truck and headed back to the patrol car. “We’ll check inside the house, and then report to Ramsey that we found his truck. I’m afraid to say it, but you may be right. They could be heading to Mexico with a bag full of cash.”
Kayla paused at the car, her brows drawn together in a frown. Something didn’t feel right. It was almost too easy. If he was really trying to hide his truck, why park it there? Sure, it couldn’t be seen from the county road, but still, it was hardly hidden. She tried to picture Uncle Ned and Aunt Charlotte out here, searching for cash, frantically trying to get away before the police or sheriff’s deputies found them. Uncle Ned? Yes, he seemed crazy enough to do it. But Aunt Charlotte? She couldn’t see it. She couldn’t even fathom that she’d been a part of the murders—that she’d helped him. But she recalled that conversation with Miss Bernice when she’d casually mentioned that Charlotte had been into her shop. Aunt Charlotte didn’t sew. Was it a coincidence that she’d picked the very day that Guy Woodard was killed to browse for fabric?
“What are you thinking?”
She glanced at Murphy. “I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right. It’s like…like it’s staged or something.”
“Hidden but in plain sight?”
“Yeah.”
“What are you two going on about now?”
“The truck,” she said. “It wasn’t really hidden.”
“Sure it was. We couldn’t see it until we drove right up to it.”
“But it wasn’t hidden. It was parked between two trees. If he was trying to hide it, he would have driven farther back, parking behind some yaupon thicket or something.”
“You’re overthinking this,” he said as they got inside the patrol car. “I doubt Ned’s smart enough to try to stage something. What for?” He backed up, and then turned the car around. “Come out, get the money, leave. I think he pulled his truck back here so it couldn’t be seen from the road and they took off in Charlotte’s car,” he said, repeating his earlier assumption.
Maybe she was overthinking it. Perhaps Ned did just drive back here far enough to hide the truck from the road. They would be in a hurry, no doubt.
When they got close to the house, there was evidence that a vehicle had driven around to the back. Was this where Aunt Charlotte’s car had been?
“These tracks look big, like from a truck,” Murphy said. “What kind of car does Charlotte drive?”
“One of those little Ford things, a Focus or something,” her father said. “But yeah, these tracks look too big for that.”
He stopped in the back of the house, on the same tracks. They all got out. Everything seemed quiet. The house appeared to be empty. As her father walked to the back door, she and Murphy exchanged glances. Something wasn’t right. Did Murphy feel it too?
“Door’s unlocked,” he said. “Let’s take a quick look. Murphy, go around to the front. Check that door.”
Murphy nodded and took off in a slow jog to the front, leaving Kayla standing alone. She looked around the back, seeing the twisted metal of an old lawn chair sticking up in the weeds. A couple of terra-cotta pots, dirt still in them, stood up against the skirt of the trailer, weeds growing inside where flowers had perhaps once been. A couple of crows landed in the dead oak beside the house, their calls echoing over and over again, as if scolding them for being there. She slid her gaze from them to the old, rusted-out car that was mostly obscured by weeds. She frowned. The weeds appeared stomped down in places. Had someone been snooping around the car?
Instead of following her father into the house, she walked over toward the car. Yes, the weeds had been trampled on. She squatted down. Were those drag marks? She went closer to the car, her eyes widening as she saw a shape inside, in the backseat. Someone was slumped against the door, away from her. She reached for her weapon but before she could pull it from its holster, her arm was twisted from behind. She gasped and spun around, swinging her other hand up, only to find herself grasped around the neck, the cold metal of a gun barrel pressed against her temple.
“I’ll surely pull this trigger, Kayla Ann. You know I will.”
She stopped struggling, even as his arm tightened around her neck. “Uncle Ned…please,” she said. “You can’t do this.”
“Too late f
or that.” He pulled her up close against him as he leaned next to the car. “Got your Aunt Charlotte in there. It pained me to tie her up. Once I’m out of here, if you could see that she’s properly taken care of, I’d appreciate that.” He jerked her up hard, then walked toward the patrol car. “Earl! You need to come on out here now,” he yelled. “Earl!”
Her father burst through the back door, his weapon in his hands, his eyes wide. “What in the goddamn hell are you doing, Ned?”
“What does it look like? Kayla here is my shield…so you don’t shoot me.” He backed them up some as Murphy came running from around the side. Her weapon was drawn as she took aim, her arms stiff, following their movement. “Now you just stop right there, Officer Murphy. We all know how this is going to play out.”
“Goddamn it, Ned. You’ve lost your ever-loving mind.”
“You don’t know the half of it, Earl.”
“Put the goddamn gun down, Ned.”
Ned shook his head. “Always got to get in the way, don’t you Earl? Couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?”
“Well enough alone? Christ, Ned, you not only got mixed up in goddamn drugs, but you killed four people!”
“They had it coming.”
“Billy N’s wife? What the hell did she do?”
“Well, that was unfortunate, yes.” He jerked Kayla around as Murphy took a step to the side.
“No, no, no. See…Earl’s not going to shoot because this here’s his daughter. And you’re not going to shoot because this here’s your lover. So just back up!”
“What? Her goddamn what? Lover?”
He stared at her and Kayla shook her head. “Oh, Dad…not now, please,” she whispered.
“Ned…I’m warning you, you stop this right now. You let her go,” her father demanded.
Ned laughed. “Or you’ll do what, Earl?”
“Yeah? Well, what do you think you’re going to do? You think I’m going to let you walk out of here with her?”
“Gonna take your car, Earl. That’s what I’m going to do.”
She stared at Murphy, realizing that she’d yet to say even one word. Their eyes locked together and she saw it with such clarity, she could have been reading Murphy’s mind. She panicked for a moment.
Oh, my God…she’s going to take a shot!
Ned and her father’s voices faded into the background as she stared into Murphy’s eyes. Everything seemed to stop and she felt like she was moving in slow motion—each breath she took, each beat of her heart, each thought that ran through her head. She heard nothing, no voices, no sound. All she saw when she looked into Murphy’s eyes was a quiet confidence, a quiet calm. She didn’t know how Murphy planned to pull this off, but she trusted her. As her uncle and father traded barbs and threats, as the barrel of her uncle’s gun pressed harder against her temple, she relaxed, ignoring the tight squeeze of his arm around her neck. One more look into Murphy’s eyes, then she counted silently to three before slowly moving her head toward her uncle’s shoulder.
The shot was loud in her ears, and she fell to the ground with her uncle’s arm still around her neck. She was stunned. Was she shot? Could she feel her legs? Was she breathing? Time again stood still. How many seconds did she lay there? Minutes? Whose hands were touching her? Whose voice was she hearing?
“You’re okay. Look at me.”
She turned her head to the sound of the voice, finding Murphy leaning over her. She finally dared to breathe…to blink her eyes.
“Have you lost your goddamn mind?” her father bellowed.
Murphy helped her into a sitting position, away from her uncle. Kayla turned to look at him. Murphy’s shot had hit him square between the eyes. She squeezed Murphy’s hand, meeting her gaze.
“Thanks.”
Murphy pulled her to her feet, then into her arms. Kayla clung to her and buried her face against Murphy’s neck.
“That was so damn close, Murphy,” she murmured.
“I guess I forgot to tell you that I was a sharpshooter, huh?”
Kayla gave a nervous laugh as she pulled out of her arms. “Oh, yeah. That would have been nice to know.” She turned to her father. “I’m okay.”
But her father’s stare was directed at Murphy. “What in the hell were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that your daughter was in danger.”
“You could have shot her!”
“I wouldn’t dare shoot her.”
“Dad…stop. I’m okay.”
“Goddamn it,” he muttered. He slid his glance to Ned, slowly shaking his head. “Goddamn,” he said again. He squatted down beside him, one hand moving over to touch Ned’s shoulder.
Kayla was going to reach out to him, to offer some comfort, but Murphy stopped her.
“Let’s give him a minute.”
Kayla nodded, then took a step away. She pointed to the car. “Aunt Charlotte’s in there.”
Murphy opened the door, the rusted hinges screaming in protest. Kayla watched as she reached inside, then she gasped as Aunt Charlotte’s limp body rolled to the seat.
“Oh, my God. He said he…he tied her up. But—”
“She’s dead,” Murphy said. “Gunshot to the chest.”
“Oh…Jesus,” she whispered. She turned toward her father. “Dad…”
Chapter Thirty
Murphy wet a path between Kayla’s breasts, relishing the quiet moan she heard. She tried to recall the last time she’d felt a connection with someone like this and nothing would come to her. It had been so long—far too long.
Soft hands rubbed across her back, pulling her subtly closer. Her mouth closed over Kayla’s nipple, sucking it into her mouth as Kayla’s hips pressed up against her. She felt nearly intoxicated as the scent of Kayla—the taste of her skin—seemed to flood all of her senses at once. She slipped a thigh between Kayla’s legs, feeling her wetness as it coated her own skin. That wetness is what she wanted to feel, what she wanted to taste.
She moved lower, her lips nibbling lightly below Kayla’s breast, her stomach. She was already spreading Kayla’s thighs with her hands, pushing them apart as she moved lower still, pausing at the curve of Kayla’s hip, kissing her way down. The soft hair between Kayla’s thighs was damp with her arousal and Murphy simply wanted to bury her face there. Kayla’s hips were rolling, as if searching for her mouth and Murphy waited no longer.
She cupped Kayla from behind, holding her still as her tongue snaked its way past her soft curls and into the wetness she sought. She moaned with pleasure at her first taste, feeling Kayla’s response as she reacted with a slight jerk of her hips and an answering moan of her own. Her tongue teased her swollen clit, then slid lower, finding her hot and wet. Kayla clutched at her shoulders, holding her close and Murphy’s tongue flicked in and out before going back to her clit. Her lips closed around it, sucking it hard into her mouth, causing Kayla to push up against her, her hips rocking now against her face.
Murphy could hear Kayla panting, could feel her trembling beneath her. Her orgasm was close so she pulled her mouth away.
“Oh, God…no,” Kayla hissed.
Murphy sat up, her fingers finding Kayla wet and ready. She plunged deep inside of her.
“Oh, God…yes.”
Murphy leaned forward, capturing Kayla’s mouth in a fiery kiss. Their tongues battled, their moans mingling as they kissed. Murphy’s fingers were dripping wet as she pushed in and out of Kayla, faster, deeper, letting Kayla set the pace that she needed. Hands clutched at her, gripping her tightly, almost painfully so. She lowered her mouth to Kayla’s breast, sucking a nipple inside. Kayla held her close, her breath coming in quick bursts, her hips undulating wildly against her hand. Then Kayla arched, one last thrust before screaming out, her thighs squeezing tightly against Murphy’s hand, holding her there as her body quaked from her orgasm.
She finally relaxed and Murphy pulled her fingers out of her, feeling Kayla jerk slightly as she brushed her sensitive clit.
&n
bsp; “God, Murphy…that was better than the last time.”
Murphy smiled as she leaned down and kissed her. “That’s what you said last time.”
Kayla drew her into her arms. “I’ll probably say it next time too. Making love with you is fantastic.”
Murphy smiled contentedly as she lay down next to Kayla. Yes, it was fantastic. Kayla had said she wanted to spend hours in bed. They’d done just that.
“Is this your way of trying to keep my mind off everything that’s happened?” Kayla asked as she kissed her.
“Has it helped?”
Kayla sighed. “Yes, it has. I needed to…to lose myself for a while.” She rolled over, staring at the ceiling. “My mom is making dinner tonight. I want you to go with me.”
She groaned. “I’m not sure I’m ready to face Earl.”
“We have to face him eventually.”
“He could shoot me, you know.”
Kayla laughed. “Yes, he could. Despite everything’s that happened in town, I’m sure he’s still wondering if we’re really lovers or not. I can’t believe Uncle Ned said that.” Her smile faded. “Jesus…I can’t believe he shot Aunt Charlotte.” Kayla rolled over and faced Murphy. “What do you think happened?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she wasn’t really in on it at all. He said she knew, but maybe she didn’t.”
“But why kill her?”
“We’ll never know what really happened, I guess.”
“They still haven’t found her car,” Kayla said. “None of it makes sense. Uncle Ned was always just a…a normal guy, you know. For him to do all of this…the drugs, the killing, I…I can’t wrap my mind around it all. And…and he threatened to kill me. He had a gun held to my head. He had a gun held to your head. This could have so easily ended differently.”
Murphy reached over and brushed the blond hair away from Kayla’s eyes. The blue orbs that looked back at her were misted with tears.
“It could have, but it didn’t. We’re both okay.”
“I don’t want to ever go through something like this again. I want Sawmill Springs to return to the sleepy little town that it’s always been. I want to write traffic tickets and do crowd control at Friday night football games. I want to go up to Braden’s Hill and catch some teenagers drinking beer that they stole from their parents’ fridge.”