“What do you want?” Andi yelled. Tremors gripped her stomach. “We’re not trespassing.”
In her peripheral vision, she saw a man dressed in camos and a ski mask lumbering toward them.
“Let’s run for it!” Andi jerked her door open. “You go one way, and I’ll go the other. He can’t chase us both.”
She jumped from the car, and Maggie followed her. The man raised his gun, and Andi ducked behind a huge oak. The bullet thudded into the tree.
“Give up,” he yelled. “You can’t get away.”
She searched for Maggie. She’d dropped to the ground and had almost made it to a thick growth of underbrush. She might have a chance to get away if Andi went in a different direction.
She darted to another tree. The rifle cracked again.
“You want to die in these woods?”
“What do you want?” she yelled.
“Information.”
“You have a funny way of asking for it.” She ran toward another tree and felt the sting in her leg before she heard the gunshot. She stumbled and pitched toward the tree, crashing into it headfirst.
No! She fought the blackness, but it did no good.
When she came to, she blinked, unable to process two men in camouflage with guns. One of them held Maggie prisoner and threw her down beside Andi.
“Told you not to run.”
“You’ve shot her!” Maggie’s tone was indignant as she knelt beside Andi. “Her leg is bleeding.”
“It’s only a flesh wound,” one of the men said. “She’ll live.”
If Andi weren’t in so much pain, she’d kick him with her good leg.
“For now,” the other one said. “Let’s go.”
“I think my leg is broken,” Andi said. It certainly hurt bad enough. The last man’s voice was familiar, but she couldn’t place it. If only they’d take off the ski masks.
One of the men prodded Maggie. “Get her on her feet.”
“Who are you and what do you want?” Maggie asked as she probed Andi’s leg.
Andi bit her lip to keep from crying out when Maggie’s fingers touched the back of her leg.
“Good. It went all the way through and doesn’t seem to have hit an artery.” Maggie gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
“Just shut up and get her up.”
“She shouldn’t walk on it.”
“Well, la-di-da, too bad. We can’t stay here, and our car is over the ridge.”
“Why don’t we take our car?” Andi said. She honestly didn’t think she could walk twenty steps much less back to civilization.
“I think I can get it out,” the taller of the two men said. He handed the rifle to the other man.
She sneaked a better look at him. Tall. Couldn’t tell if he was muscular under the camos, but he had piercing black eyes.
The other guy was a little shorter and broad shouldered. “Well, hurry up,” he said. “I want to get done with this and get out of here before dark.”
The taller man got into the car and rocked it back and forth until it finally pulled forward. He rolled down the window. “There’s a clearing ahead by the river. I’ll turn around there.”
While they waited, their captor took out a roll of tape. “Secure her hands,” he said and reached toward Maggie to hand her the tape.
In a lightning move, Maggie grabbed his shirtsleeve and collar and yanked him forward. Before he could react, she turned and squatted, throwing him over her hip onto the ground. He hit with a thud, and air whooshed out of his lungs.
Andi scrambled for the rifle that he’d dropped. “Good job. Remind me to sign up for one of your classes,” she said. “But you better take this. My leg is killing me, and I might shoot him.”
“Hold it on him until I tape his wrists.” When Maggie finished, she pulled his ski mask off.
Andi had never seen the man before. “Who are you? And why were you shooting at us?”
He glared at them.
“Okay, ladies, you’ve had your fun. Drop the rifle.”
Andi whirled around. Mrs. Darby, minus the white hair and lumpy body, held a gun to Maggie’s head. “I said drop it.”
Andi hesitated. Surely Jillian wouldn’t shoot Maggie.
“Do what I said. It’s your fault they’re here,” Jillian said through gritted teeth. “I don’t have anything to lose. Drop. It.”
“I have Laura’s cell phone number,” David said when Brad ended the call to Will.
“Maybe she can tell us where her husband is.”
David dialed the number, but it went to her voicemail. “Let me try her home.” He quickly dialed it.
“Delaney residence.”
“This is Lieutenant David Raines. Is Mrs. Delaney in?”
“No, she isn’t.”
“Can you tell me where she is?”
“I . . . I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
He tamped down his impatience. She’d hesitated, so she knew where Laura was. “This is a police matter. Someone may die if I don’t talk with Mrs. Delaney. Now, where is she?”
“At her office.”
“Thank you.” David hung up and speed dialed the DA’s office. It went to voicemail. “She’s not answering,” he said. “We’ll have to drive downtown.”
Before they reached the studio door, it opened.
“I just remembered this,” Barbara said. She held a small mailing envelope.
“Mom, we don’t have time,” Brad said.
“But, it’s from Jillian. She left it with me right after Andi’s operation. Asked me to keep it for her. I forgot all about it until just now.”
David took the envelope and withdrew a small box. Inside were five rough stones.
Barbara gasped. “Why would she leave those with me?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll certainly ask if I find her,” Brad said.
David put the diamonds back in the envelope. Maggie and Andi had no idea Jillian was dangerous. Maybe if they found her, she wouldn’t harm them. “Thanks, Mrs. Hollister.”
They hurried out the door to David’s car. Twenty minutes later, they got off the elevator on the third floor. The DA’s office was open, and Laura’s secretary was at the desk, working at her computer. Jace looked up when they came through the door.
“I’m sorry, but we’re not officially here, Lieutenant Raines.”
“I have to see the district attorney.”
“She’s not seeing or talking to anyone. We’re getting ready for a big case Monday morning.”
David planted his hands on her desk. “I want to see Laura Delaney now. Press the buzzer so I can go through. I’ll take full responsibility.”
The secretary hesitated. “Let me notify her.”
“Tell her it’s about her husband’s involvement in smuggled diamonds.”
Jace’s eyes widened, and she picked up the phone on her desk and spoke into it. “You can go back.”
“Thank you,” David snapped.
Laura met them at the door. “What is this preposterous—”
David brushed past her, and Brad followed. “Where’s your husband?”
“What?”
“Your husband,” David repeated. “Where is he?”
“I . . . I’m not sure. What’s this all about?”
“Were you part of the smuggling ring?”
She took a step back. “What are you talking about?”
Either Laura could lie really well, or she didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. Either way, they were wasting time. “Let’s sit down, and I’ll explain.”
She walked behind the desk to her chair and sat while he and Brad took the two wing chairs. David laid the handwritten sheets on her desk. “These are notes that Stephanie Hollister wrote eighteen years ago. It’s a log of smuggling activities.”
She scanned the pages, stopping at the last one to read the note. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Are you L?”
“Of course not. I had no idea about any of this. The L has
to stand for Lacey.” She leaned back in the chair. “I always wondered how she afforded her lifestyle without a job after she quit flying.”
“Do you know who JD could be?” Brad asked.
Hesitation showed in Laura’s eyes as she chewed her thumbnail. Then she dropped her hand and took a deep breath. “JD could be Jared Donovan.” She shifted her gaze to the window. “And JD is what Spencer’s family still calls him,” she said, turning back to them.
“Do you know where your husband is?” Brad asked.
“I told you, I don’t know exactly. He was meeting Adam.”
“Adam Matthews?”
“Yeah. They’ve been friends since Spencer was a flight attendant and Adam was a copilot. But you’re looking in the wrong place for your solution. JD could easily be Jared and not Spencer.”
David picked up the journal papers. “Do you know who this AJ is? Once the diamonds were smuggled into the States, it looks like that’s who they were delivered to.”
Her shoulders slumped. “AJ. Adam Jerome Matthews.”
Brad leaned forward. “Do you have a way of tracking your husband? An app, maybe?”
“No. I suggested it once, but Spencer said we didn’t need it.”
David stood. “We’re wasting time here. We need to get to Doskie.”
As they hurried to their car, Brad said, “How long will it take to get there?”
“I checked earlier. About two hours. But I have a friend who flies helicopters. He owes me a favor, and if he’s free, he’ll fly us there in thirty minutes.”
34
THE GPS TOOK WILL AROUND THE TOWN SQUARE to a building on the south side. Will stared at the brick US Postal building as he dialed Brad. “Do you have an updated address? The one you gave me is the post office in Doskie.”
“That’s where they were going for information. We’re in a helicopter and will be there in about a half hour.”
“I’m going on to see if I can find an address for Jillian. I’ll call you, and maybe you can land near wherever they are.”
The 911 office. It should have directions to . . . His shoulders slumped. To where? He didn’t even know if Jillian lived in this area, and if she did, what name she used. Not her own, for sure.
If she lived around here, who might know her? Probably not the police, since she would avoid them. But she would have to come to town for food and maybe medicine. Will grabbed the photo of Jillian and got out of his car. He scanned the buildings, and an apothecary sign caught his eye.
“Good afternoon,” he said to the girl behind the counter. He showed her his badge. “I’m with the Memphis Police Department, and I’m looking for this woman.” He handed her the photo. “I thought she might shop here.”
The teenager stared at the photo and shook her head. “My dad’s the pharmacist. Maybe he knows her.” She turned. “Dad!”
A balding, fortysomething man in a white coat came from the back. “Can I help you?”
“He’s with the Memphis police.” She handed him the photo. “And he’s looking for this woman.”
The pharmacist studied the paper. “Do you have some identification?”
Will showed him his badge. “Sergeant Will Kincade, sir.”
“You don’t mind if I write your badge number down, do you?”
“No, sir.” Will tapped his fingers against his leg, wanting to hurry the man. “Do you recognize her?”
“I think so,” he said slowly. “It looks a tiny bit like Mrs. Darby, except her hair is white and she’s portly.”
“Can you tell me how to get to her place?”
“That I can’t do. All I have on record is a PO box. Not that I’ve ever used it. She pays cash every month. You might inquire at the 911 office since everyone has to register their address with the power company in order to get hooked up to electricity.”
“Thanks, I’ll do that. Where is it?”
“Inside the courthouse, bottom floor. You can’t miss it. It’ll be the only office open.”
Will thanked him again and hurried out the door. The courthouse sat in the middle of the square and was a short walk away. The pharmacist was right. It was the only office open, and Will pushed open the door. After explaining who he was and that he wanted directions to a Mrs. Darby’s house, he was given a detailed map.
“It’s easy to get lost up there,” the 911 clerk said. “So many little side roads. If you get to the river, you’ve gone too far.”
“Can you give me coordinates on her cabin? My friends are in a helicopter.”
“You can’t land a helicopter there—upper air level is too high, and the trees are too close to the road and too much overhang. Had a kid get lost a couple of years ago and somebody tried to land one. Almost crashed it.”
Will thanked him and jogged back to his car. There, he took another look at the map. No wonder the GPS wasn’t working. His cell phone rang, and he answered it.
“Where are you?” Brad said.
“Parked in front of the post office. Where are you?” He scanned the square and spied the helicopter swinging in from the west. “Never mind, I see you.”
He climbed back out of his car and waited while Brad and David landed on the square.
“What are you doing here?” Brad asked when Will reached him.
“The GPS isn’t working, and I backtracked to town. Can you get a location on Andi?”
Brad clicked on the app and waited. “I don’t understand. It’s not giving me her location.”
“We’ll have to depend on this map, and use my car—no place to land a chopper.”
As they sped away from town, Will asked, “What did you find out from Laura?”
“We tried to call you but only got your voicemail,” David said. His cell phone rang, and he answered it. “What?” After listening for a minute, he said, “Thanks for letting me know.”
He hung up and turned to Will and Brad. “The car Spencer is driving is new, and Laura remembered it came with OnStar. She contacted the company and they located the car near Doskie. So Spencer and Adam Matthews are somewhere in the vicinity.”
Andi pressed against the bandage on her leg. What she wouldn’t give for a Lortab right now, but it was in her purse in the car. Jillian had instructed Maggie on how to bind the wound, but that didn’t help the pain.
With the .38 tucked in her waistband, Jillian prodded their would-be captor with his own rifle. “Hug the pine tree,” she said. “And you, tie his hands.”
Maggie took the rope she tossed her.
“Make sure he can’t get loose,” Jillian said.
She checked the rope once Maggie finished. “Okay, you two, let’s go.”
“You can’t leave me here!” he yelled.
“Maybe I’ll send the game warden to get you.”
“What happened to the other man?” Andi said. Jillian hadn’t shot him because there’d been no gunfire.
She turned and shrugged. “He won’t bother anyone—he’s a tree hugger too.”
“Who is he?”
“Enough with the questions. Get moving.”
“No!” Andi dug in her heels. “I want to know who tried to kill me.”
Jillian pinched her lips together. “I see you haven’t changed. Spencer Delaney. Satisfied now? And I guarantee you, if he’d been trying to kill you, you’d be dead.”
Spencer? “Why?”
“See, that’s why I didn’t want to tell you in the first place—brings on more questions. Now, move.”
Maggie helped her to stand, and with the aid of a crutch Jillian had fashioned out of a branch, she limped down the dirt road.
No one spoke as they trekked toward the cabin, other than Andi’s involuntary groans when pain stabbed her leg. Treece’s boots were too big and rubbed up and down on her heel. The only comfort came from the Swiss knife pressed against her ankle.
The sun disappeared in a bank of clouds, and quarter-sized drops of rain splattered her face. She hadn’t thought she could walk back to the cab
in, but a gun to her back made the impossible possible. Once they reached gravel, walking became easier. Andi knew the cabin couldn’t be much farther. But what was Jillian going to do with them when they reached it?
Maggie broke the silence. “How did you know they were after us?”
“Saw them when they passed the cabin. I should have kept right on packing.”
“What stopped you?” Andi asked.
“Knowing they’d kill you. Couldn’t live with that.”
The cabin came into sight, and in front of it, a pickup. Jillian’s, Andi guessed. The doors were open and boxes were stacked in the seat and the bed of the truck. Jillian motioned with the gun. “In the house.”
“Look, can we talk?” Maggie said. “We’re trying to stop Jimmy’s execution. You have evidence that will clear him or you wouldn’t have gone to see him. Tell us what you know. I know you don’t want his blood on your hands.”
The corner of Jillian’s mouth twitched, then she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help Jimmy. And I don’t want to answer your questions.” She waved the rifle again. “Inside.”
“Please tell us who killed Stephanie,” Andi pleaded, but looking into Jillian’s unyielding gray eyes was like looking at death. A band tightened around her chest, constricting her breath. This was not a game. And Jillian was not harmless. And she wasn’t going to help.
When Jillian prodded her with the gun again, Andi hobbled up the three steps and through the door and collapsed on the sofa.
“Don’t get too comfortable. You have to help Maggie load the truck.” Jillian propped the rifle she’d taken from the men against the wall and picked up a double-barreled shotgun.
Andi looked up at her. “What happened to you? You used to be a nice person.”
“That was a long time ago, and that person no longer exists. How did you know I was in Doskie, anyway?”
“I believe she does exist. We found you through the Christmas card you mailed Mom last year,” Andi said, reaching in her jacket pocket.
“Keep your hands where I can see them,” Jillian said.
She stilled her hands. “I was just going to show you.”
“I’ll get it. And there’s no way that my address was on the envelope—I never put my return address on anything.” She pulled the envelope from Andi’s pocket and glanced at it. “That is not my handwriting.”
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