“Oh yes. Sorry. I was just recalling something Elizabeth said. Thank you.” Lucky passed the photos back to the librarian.
“Do you think that old story has something to do with the two murders . . . or Elizabeth’s disappearance?”
“I don’t know. But I’ll bet Maggie Harkins is the one person who might know.”
“Good luck there,” Emily answered. “I’m not sure what information you’d be able to get from her. I’ve seen her walking along the road outside of town but either she doesn’t want to talk to anyone, or she’s not quite right in the head anymore. I just don’t know.” Emily shrugged and placed the photos at the side of her desk.
“You don’t happen to know where she lives, do you?”
“Sure do. I went there with Elizabeth a few times after Danny died. Just to pay our respects. Elizabeth was very concerned about Maggie and wanted to do her best to be helpful. You just continue down Elm Street and follow it until it turns into the old Colonial Road. Go about five miles and you’ll see a row of mailboxes. After that, take your first right up a dirt road and that’s her old farmhouse. It’s hidden but it’s not too far off the road.”
“Thanks again.”
“You’re certainly welcome. You stop by anytime. I’m always glad of company here.” Emily waved to her as she walked out the door.
Lucky sat in the car and glanced at the clock. Things would be quiet right now at the Spoonful. She could return and fill Sophie in, but something urged her on. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the headrest. Harry Hodges was murdered, and Elizabeth disappeared. Which came first? Or were those two events concurrent? She had tried to reach Elizabeth several times after Harry’s death. That was what had alarmed her at first, the fact that Elizabeth hadn’t contacted them after Harry’s body had been discovered. Several days later, Richard Rowland burned to death in his construction trailer. Guilty or innocent of the little boy’s death, the talk in the town must have been terrible enough to cause his family to move away. It was understandable that Rowland hadn’t wanted old town pictures run with the interview. Were there more connections between Elizabeth and the three men who were now dead? Maybe Maggie Harkins would be willing to talk to her.
Chapter 34
ELIZABETH HEARD MAGGIE’S footsteps on the cellar stairs. Maggie mumbled to herself as she approached the door and slid a fresh plate of vegetables through the broken space. The house had been quiet since the day Elizabeth had heard the scream. She had listened carefully since then but had heard nothing more than Maggie’s quiet steps above her.
Elizabeth rushed to the door and pressed her cheek against the wood. “Maggie, what happened? Did someone hurt you?” Elizabeth listened carefully, so carefully she could hear Maggie’s breathing on the other side of the door. “Who was here?” Elizabeth waited. “Maggie, answer me!”
Elizabeth heard the sounds of Maggie shuffling away. A few minutes later she heard voices again, and a man’s heavy footsteps. Was this the man who had caused Maggie to scream? She had to take a chance. Help might be within reach. She rushed to the bedding and grabbed her shoe. In the tiny washroom, she banged on the pipes and called out. She continued striking the pipes until her arm cramped. Elizabeth winced. She took a deep breath and massaged the taut muscles. In the few moments of silence, she heard Maggie cry out. Then nothing. Elizabeth leaned against the wall, exhausted. A strange smell filled the room, filtering through the floorboards above her head. She froze in fear when she recognized the odor. It was gasoline.
* * *
LUCKY MISSED THE turnoff on her first pass. She checked her odometer and realized she had gone too far. This very road was one she and Sophie had driven just two days ago. Why hadn’t she seen the entrance to Maggie’s house? She made a U-turn on the shoulder of the road and drove back two miles. Then she turned again and this time, driving slowly, scanned the side of the road. She spotted the mailboxes that Emily had described. Most were rusted and barely noticeable against the dark tree trunks. She finally found the dirt road. It was well hidden. Emily’s directions had been good ones, but the drive was barely visible, half covered with encroaching trees. The sky had grown even darker and thunder rumbled close by.
She turned quickly off the road and drove up a short rise. Tree branches swatted at the sides of her car. In front of the house was a wide-open area. She pulled the car against a stand of trees away from the house and turned the engine off. The building itself was run-down, and for a moment Lucky thought Emily must have made a mistake. This house looked abandoned. The overhanging trees blocked out the diminishing light. Underneath the shade of the trees, a chill breeze blew. She shivered, suddenly fearful.
She had come this far. She wasn’t going to let a crumbling old house and a mumbling woman stop her now. She tossed her purse in the back and climbed out of the car. She called out, “Hello.” A bird in the distance cawed a response—a crow. She walked slowly around to the side of the house. A late model dark sedan was parked at the side. Someone was here. But was Maggie still here? Did she have a visitor? Or did the house now belong to someone who planned to remodel the crumbling cottage? Lucky retraced her steps and climbed the rickety steps to the front porch. She called out once again but heard nothing. The front door stood open halfway. She knocked loudly but no one came.
There was an overwhelming smell of gasoline. It was unmistakable. She stepped inside and covered her nose. A moan came from a room to the left. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the dimness. A human bundle sat on the floor. It was Maggie Harkins. Her back was to the wall, her ankles were bound and her hands were behind her back, tied to a radiator. Lucky rushed to her side. Maggie was whimpering under her breath.
“Maggie, who did this to you?” Lucky asked as she struggled to untie the cord that bound the woman. Maggie shook her head violently, a frightened look in her eyes, but said nothing. The smell of gasoline was stronger here. Lucky spotted a trail of fluid across the wood floor leading to a puddle of fuel in the small dining area. A red can lay on its side. Whoever had tied Maggie up and poured gasoline through the house could still be here. Someone had planned to burn down the house with Maggie in it.
“Hold on. I’ll get these untied,” she spoke encouragingly. Maggie looked at her with watery, confused eyes. The cord was stiff and wouldn’t move. Lucky’s fingers were shaking. She had to release Maggie before whoever had done this to her came back. Or was someone here now, lurking, watching her? She ran to the kitchen and pulled one drawer after another open. Finally she found a large knife with a serrated edge. She ran back to Maggie and furiously sawed through the cord binding the woman’s hands. Then she cut through the cord around her ankles.
A hollow clanging sound issued through the walls. Rhythmic. Too rhythmic to be old pipes acting up. Lucky stopped and listened. “Maggie, what is that?” Maggie shook her head violently, but didn’t answer. Where were the metallic thuds coming from? Below. The sound was below. “Maggie, is someone down in the cellar?” Maggie shook her head again and began to croon to herself.
Lucky dragged the woman to her feet. “Get out of the house. Run, Maggie. It’s not safe here.” Once she was sure Maggie could stand on her own, she ran back to the entry hall. A small door was tucked under the rise of the stairway. She wrenched it open.
“Is someone down there?” she called. A faint cry came from below. Someone was trapped down there. Or was someone trying to trap her? Were they lying in wait? The same someone who had poured gasoline over the floorboards? She had to find out. And then she had to get far away from this house. She moved slowly down the stairs one step at a time. Her heart thumped heavily in her chest. It was pitch-black except for a thin sliver of light at the other end of the cellar. She called again, “Is someone here?”
“Here. In here,” Elizabeth screamed and banged frantically on the door.
“Elizabeth?” Lucky, her hands in front of her to keep from bumping into strange objects, stepped carefully across the floor. She reache
d the door. Her eyes had adjusted somewhat and now she could see the outline of the opening.
“Elizabeth! It’s me. It’s Lucky.”
“Lucky?” Elizabeth sobbed. “Oh, thank God. You have to get me out of here.”
“I will. Hang on.” Lucky felt the door with her fingertips. Some light came from the other side of the door through a break in the wood at the bottom. A board acted as a bar to the door. She grasped the heavy plank with both hands and lifted it up. The door creaked and gave way, opening to a tiny room. Elizabeth fell into her arms.
“Thank heavens I found you. The whole town’s been searching for you. Are you all right?”
“It’s hard to walk. I hurt my ankle. Please, Lucky, help me out of here.” Elizabeth’s clothes were streaked with dirt. Her feet were bare and her skin felt cold.
“Come on. I’ll help you up the stairs.” She reached an arm around Elizabeth’s waist and led her slowly to the foot of the stairs. A loud, whooshing explosion reached their ears.
“What’s that?” Elizabeth asked fearfully, clinging to her arm.
“Fire. The house is soaked with gasoline. Hold on to the railing. I want to make sure we have time to get out. Don’t move.” Lucky rushed up the stairs. She heard a crackling noise on the other side of the door and felt intense heat. The smell of old burning wood was unmistakable now. Lucky kicked the door open, hoping against hope they could make it out of the house—that the floor wouldn’t collapse before they could reach the front door. The living room was engulfed in flames that licked at the walls. The air from the cellar fed the conflagration. A wall of flame rose up, blocking her path. An intense wave of heat almost knocked her down the stairs. She clung to the railing and backed down as quickly as she could.
Elizabeth moaned. “It’s too late.” The flames had caught the door and it crackled as old paint melted and peeled from the heat.
“We’ll find a way.” Lucky guided Elizabeth toward the thin sliver of light. “This has to be a hatch to the outside. I’ll let go of you for a moment. Can you stand? This might be our only way out now.” Elizabeth nodded and put a hand against the wall to keep her balance.
Lucky took the two steps up to the opening of the hatch and pushed with all her strength. It moved but wouldn’t open. The cellar had taken on an eerie brightness from the flames upstairs and was quickly filling with smoke that curled above them, clinging to the floor joists. There was still air to breathe but it wouldn’t last long. Desperate, she looked around and spotted the workbench. “It must be locked on the outside. Hang on. I’ll find something to break through.” She felt across the top of the workbench hoping to locate a tool. Her eyes were stinging. She looked up. An axe hung from a peg on the wall. She pulled it down and rushed back to the hatch, which she hoped would lead to fresh air and freedom.
Using the blunt head of the axe, she struck at the boards. They were old and half rotted. She continued to aim the axe at what she hoped was the weakest plank. She heard a crack, not the crack of burning wood that came from above, but the crack of old wood. A jagged square gave way and she could see light outside. The cellar was filling with smoke and fumes. Her eyes burned and each breath hurt. They heard a tremendous noise as the door at the top of the stairs gave way and crashed to the floor. Flames raged through the opening. They were looking up into the mouth of an inferno at the top of the stairs—an inferno that would rain down on them. They had to escape.
Using all her strength, Lucky struck at the partially broken wood. A large section cracked open. It was just enough space for them to crawl through one at a time. “Elizabeth. You first. Get out.”
“No, Lucky. You should go.”
“Don’t argue. Go. Now.” She grasped Elizabeth by the shoulders and pushed her up the steps to the opening in the boards. “Climb through.” Elizabeth turned to the side and was able to get her head and shoulders through the opening, but it wasn’t quite wide enough to allow her to climb through.
“I’m stuck.” She sobbed.
“Hang on.” Lucky turned around, pushing her back against the stubborn boards. She anchored herself on the cement stairs and pushed up with all her strength. Another large section of wood gave way. She felt it tear against her bare arm. Pain shot through her. But now there was a large, jagged opening. Elizabeth was free, stumbling out onto the grass at the side of the house. Lucky followed. She grasped Elizabeth’s arm and pulled her away from the burning house. They took shelter in the trees several yards away and collapsed together on the ground, gasping and coughing. The windows of the house had exploded outward from the intense heat. The yard was littered with glass and burning debris.
Lucky reached over to Elizabeth and hugged her. “Thank heavens I found you. We need to get to the car and get out of here. We need to get help.” She only hoped Sophie’s car was far enough away from the house that it would be safe from the fire. And she hoped Maggie had escaped. A deafening crash of thunder sounded above them. Immediately a flash of lightning cut through the blackening sky.
“Can you stand up?” Elizabeth nodded and struggled to her feet.
“Let’s stay among the trees—it’s safer.” Lucky put a protective arm around Elizabeth, guiding her, afraid she would collapse in her weakened state. Elizabeth could barely put weight on her ankle and was forced to move slowly. They reached the last barrier of trees. Sophie’s car was just a few yards away. “We’re here. Just a few more steps.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I’m sorry. I can’t move very fast.”
“That’s all right. Lean on me.”
A branch snapped behind them. Lucky, startled, turned around. Edward Embry stood a few feet away. He was holding a gun and it was aimed at them.
Chapter 35
ELIZABETH TURNED TO follow Lucky’s gaze. She gasped. “Edward?” She squeezed Lucky’s hand tightly and a tremor ran through her body.
“I’m sorry, Elizabeth.” He shook his head sadly. “It’s too bad you had to go poking your nose into this. And you too, Lucky. I wish you both could have left well enough alone.”
“What are you talking about Edward? Why do you have a gun? What are you doing?”
Lucky’s blood ran cold. “It was you—you tied Maggie up and left her in that house. Why?”
Edward ignored her outburst and turned to Elizabeth. “You have to know it wasn’t my plan to hurt you. You never should have come here. I needed to see this through.”
“See what through, Edward? You’re not making any sense.” Elizabeth recalled Maggie’s answer when she had pleaded with her in the cellar. “He won’t hurt me then.”
Lucky tightened her grip on Elizabeth’s shoulder. The pieces of the puzzle had fallen into place. “You couldn’t know, Elizabeth. Harry Hodges was murdered and so was Richard Rowland.”
“Harry?” Elizabeth gasped. She turned to Edward. “Oh no. Oh no. Tell me you didn’t, Edward.” Tears rushed to her eyes.
“I wasn’t responsible for Harry, Elizabeth, believe me. I didn’t do that. If I had, he would never have gone so easily. He would have died screaming like my little Johnny, my sweet, innocent boy.”
“And Richard Rowland?” Lucky asked.
Edward nodded. “Oh yes. Funny thing, though. You were right, Elizabeth. It didn’t cheer me as much as I thought it would. In fact, I really didn’t feel anything at all after all these years. But it was satisfying to know he died just like Johnny. I suspect Harry had an attack of conscience and decided to finally tell the truth about what they did that day. And I think that monster Rowland got to Harry first.”
Elizabeth leaned against Lucky, unable to speak.
“I’m sorry, Elizabeth. I tried. For so many years, I tried to put it behind me. But it wasn’t any good. It wouldn’t go away. There were days I thought I had the rage conquered, but it would flare up again even stronger. It was tearing my brain apart. Harry knew. He could never look me in the eye. He knew how I felt. But Rowland . . . when he showed up in town again, it all came back. I really didn’t think
I had that kind of hate inside of me anymore.” Edward shrugged, and the arm that held the gun relaxed slightly. “But then the opportunity presented itself and it was so very easy. And you know what I felt? I felt nothing. If anything, relief. Relief it was over. They were all dead. I had waited a very long time. There were so many nights I couldn’t sleep. Nights I would lie awake planning what I wanted to do to them all, wondering if I had the stomach to do what needed to be done. And when the time came it was so simple, so easy. Like watching a film from a long distance away.”
“Edward, there was a sworn statement that they weren’t there.” Elizabeth took a shaky breath. “There was never any proof they locked Johnny in that house or set fire to it. Everyone accepted it could have been an accident.”
Edward started to shake with barely controlled emotion. His eyes darkened; his face twisted. “A sworn statement!” He spat. “Maggie Harkins was their alibi. She said they were with her that day. She lied. She lied to save her son.”
“How long have you been torturing that poor woman?” Elizabeth demanded.
Edward smiled. “Not long. I just needed to keep her out of the way—until it was her turn. But I always kept an eye on her. She knew it too. She knew she was as guilty as those boys. Those three should have spent their lives in jail for killing my son. Everyone knew they hung around that old house, sneaking cigarettes, lighting matches. But the police let them go. Was that justice? Justice for my son or my wife?”
What little color was in Elizabeth’s face drained. Lucky wondered if she might pass out from shock.
“I don’t need proof. I know! For thirty-five years it’s all I’ve dreamed about. I’ve been tortured by the memories. I’ve had a picture of my dead child in my head all this time. Can you blame me? When Rowland showed up, I knew it was time. The life I should have had was stolen from me. Why should they have been allowed to live?”
Lucky’s mind was racing. Edward had grown increasingly unstable. She was sure any slight movement could set him off. She couldn’t run and leave Elizabeth. Shaking or not, Edward could be capable of shooting her as she ran. Elizabeth wouldn’t be able to move very fast if at all. And no one knew where they were. She hadn’t told anyone where she was going—not even Sophie.
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