“Where on the property?”
“We don’t have a deal yet.”
“It’s a deal with the devil, Emma.” Garrett drifted between her and Quinn. She ignored him, knowing a deal with the devil was her only chance of survival.
“You’re coming with us,” Quinn said after giving the situation some thought. “If the gold’s there, you can go. If it’s not, we’ll have to have another talk-this time with a gun to the head of one of those friends of yours”
He started forward to grab Emma, but Archie growled. He aimed the gun at the dog.
“No, please,” Emma begged. “He’ll behave”
“He’s not coming with us. Tie him to a tree.”
“But there are other animals out here. It’s not safe.”
“The tree or a bullet. Your choice.”
Emma bent to tie Archie’s leash to a nearby small bush, but she didn’t fasten it completely. “Stay,” she ordered the dog as she walked away. Archie took a step to follow. “Sit. Stay.”
This time, Archie sat down and stayed put, his posture vigilant as he watched his mistress being spirited away in the night.
PHIL BOWERS WAS HAVING a bad night. He kept dreaming of pioneer women hanging from trees and snakes driving cars, of ghosts dancing, and bulldogs with flatulence. Or was it dancing bulldogs and ghosts with flatulence? When his cell phone first rang, he thought it was just another crazy extension of his dreams.
He reached for the phone resting on the nightstand. He always kept it on, even when he slept, just in case one of his kids needed him. The last time it rang in the middle of the night, Tom, his youngest, had wrapped his car around a tree on his way home from a party. Like most parents, his heart was in his throat as he answered.
In under a minute, he had jumped into jeans and a tee shirt, shoved his feet into boots, and started running down the stairs.
“Phillip,” his aunt called. She was leaning over the banister as he pulled open the door. Her hair was disheveled, and she was in her nightgown. “Is it Tom again?”
“It’s Emma. Call 911 and get the sheriff over to the cemetery.”
“Oh no! Is she all right?”
“Not sure, just make the call. Tell them to be cautious. The killer might be back.”
His truck kicked up a cloud of gravel as it sped down the long drive to the access road. From there, it was nearly another a mile before it turned onto the road that led to the main highway into town. Worried about Emma, to Phil Bowers the drive seemed interminable.
In the middle of the night, the two-lane, twisting highway to town was usually empty. Phil pushed his foot against the accelerator and sent his truck speeding through the deserted countryside as fast as he dared, taking the turns as only a homegrown local could. A couple of miles from town, he saw headlights coming toward him. He slowed down until the dark Honda sedan safely passed, then opened up the throttle full tilt.
THE MIDDLE-OF-THE NIGHT PHONE call had been from Milo Ravenscroft. He’d been woken up by Granny Apples. She’d put her face as close to his as possible and yelled his name with her ghostly voice until she got his attention. It was the only way she knew to help Emma. Immediately, Milo had called Phil Bowers.
“Wake up, Tracy.” Milo shook her roughly by the shoulder. “Emma’s in trouble.”
“Huh?”
“It’s Emma. She’s gone to the cemetery. Granny just told me. The dog’s gone, too.”
Tracy sat up and glanced over at Emma’s empty bed. Seeing the rumpled sheets woke her like a bucket of cold water. “What should we do?”
“I called Phil. He’s on his way over there now with the police. He said to stay put until he called us back.”
Tracy threw back the covers. “Like hell I’m sitting still.” She had been sleeping in a tee shirt. Grabbing a pair of jeans from her overnight bag, she pulled them on and slipped into her sandals. “Come on. Let’s get over there.”
From the back of the Honda where Emma was bunched like a sack of potatoes across the back seat, she tried her best to conjure up Granny. She’d never called the ghost to her before in silence and wondered if it was possible. There was no time like the present to find out, and she had nothing to lose. If she could get Granny to pay attention, she might be able to send her for help. She had no way of knowing the ghost was way ahead of her. Before stuffing her into the back seat of the car, the woman had bound Emma’s hands in front of her.
In the dark of the car, Emma’s other senses were as sharp as a stick pin. She felt every turn in the road. Heard every breath of her kidnappers. At one point, she felt the car swerve hard to the right, then straighten.
“Damn fool,” she heard the woman say. “That truck had to be going at least seventy. On these back roads, it’s a good way to get killed.”
Just as Emma was losing the battle with motion sickness, the car came to a stop. She heard both car doors open. The one at her feet was also opened, and the rush of cool mountain air refreshed her. Strong hands grabbed her ankles and dragged her halfway out of the car. As soon as hard-packed earth was under her feet, she was yanked upright by the waist of her jeans.
She turned this way and that, letting her eyes adjust to the night. She looked up. Stars covered the sky like sequins on a soft velvet dress. To her right, in the distance, she could just make out the Bowers ranch house. A whimper caught in her throat at the thought of the lovely meal and good company she’d shared there with friends just a few hours before. She’d wanted to show Kelly this place of peace and history. And her mother-her mother would like it here, at least for a few days. Then she might get restless. But she knew Elizabeth would find it fascinating to explore where her family had settled after migrating from Kansas.
After retrieving a flashlight and shovel from the trunk of the car, the Quinns marched her from the road to the fence. The man held open the wire, and the woman helped Emma through.
“Okay,” Quinn said, “we’re here. What did Billy tell you?”
“Twentyfive paces north.”
“We know that.” His voice was heavy with impatience. “Twentyfive paces north of what?”
“From the well.”
He held the shovel up in front of Emma like a flag. “We thought it might be buried. Never hurts to be prepared, does it?”
The three of them trekked over to the old covered well. “Seems we weren’t far off,” he said to the woman. He turned toward Emma. “Originally, we thought it might be in the well. Bell managed to break the lock and get the lid off a few weeks ago, but there was nothing inside. Would have looked around more, but someone came down the road heading for the Bowers place.” He jiggled the shiny new padlock. “Looks like they replaced the lock.”
He undid Emma’s wrists and handed the shovel to her. “As soon as I say where, start digging.”
“Help is coming, Emma.” It was Granny, standing almost in front of her. “Don’t fret, help’s coming.” Emma stared straight ahead, not wanting to give any indication to the others that they were not alone.
After gazing up at the sky from several vantage points, the man gave a grunt of satisfaction. He paced off twentyfive steps from the rim of the well and pointed the beam of light at a spot on the ground. “Here.”
When she hesitated, the woman nudged Emma in the back with her gun. Emma walked over to where Quinn indicated. She stuck the pointed end of the shovel into the dirt and scooped away a cupful. She repeated the process a few times before he snatched the shovel from her.
“It’s going to take all night that way. Haven’t you ever used a shovel before?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Shit. Just our luck we’d get a hothouse flower.”
After pushing her out of the way, the man stuck the end of the spade into the dirt and pushed down on its top edge with his foot, forcing the sharp end deeper into the ground. When he pulled the shovel out, a large chunk of dirt came with it.
“See, gotta use your foot. Put some muscle and backbone into it.
/> After depositing the dirt to the side, he handed the shovel back to Emma. Granny had disappeared.
Following his instructions, Emma went to work, managing to dig a small, deep hole in no time, but with no results. Quinn instructed her to move slightly to the left, then to the right. She was sweating and tired, and her arms were beginning to ache.
Emma took off her jacket and wiped the sweat from her face. “What I don’t understand is who are you people? How did you even find out about this land and the gold?”
“Linda here was old Ian’s nurse.”
“Peter, don’t tell her anything.”
“Aw, she’s harmless. She knows she’ll die if she tells. Isn’t that right, Sweet Cheeks?”
Sweet Cheeks-Emma would never complain about being called Fancy Pants again, especially by Phil Bowers.
“That was the deal we made.”
“Ian was fascinated by his family history, and when he found documents talking about gold, Linda talked him into going to a seance to see if he could contact the spirits of his ancestors. That’s how we met Garrett Bell. He said he could help-for a fee, of course. Unfortunately, Ian died right after receiving the copies of those Winslow letters. Seeing he didn’t have any family, we helped ourselves to them and a few other things, and continued working with Bell.”
Quinn refocused his attention on the dig. “Can’t imagine the boy burying it any deeper than that.” He scratched his chin in thought. “Go back to where we started, and dig in a little more toward the well. The boy’s paces might’ve been shorter than mine.”
“So the condominiums were just a ruse to cover the hunt for the gold?”
“You can work while you talk, can’t you? Or is that something you’ve never done before, like shoveling?”
Emma went back to digging.
“The condos were actually a real possibility. If we can clear the permits, we know a builder who’d love to build out here. Maybe one of them 55-plus retirement complexes. They’re big now with aging baby boomers. But the real goal was the gold”
With every shovelful of dirt, Emma realized she might be digging her own grave.
PHIL’S TRUCK HAD BARELY come to a stop when he jumped out. A sheriff’s vehicle was parked across Main Street. Next to it was an unmarked car with a flashing light. A few of the townspeople were clustered nearby. Near the unmarked car stood Milo and Tracy talking with Detective Martinez. Archie was in Tracy’s arms. Phil headed for the group.
“What’s going on?”
“No Emma.” Tracy wiped her wet eyes against the dog’s long coat and hugged him closer.
“When the deputy got here,” Detective Martinez explained, “the dog was wandering down the middle of Main Street dragging its leash. He tried to catch him, but the animal eluded him until these folks arrived and called him by name.”
“But no sign of Emma?” Phil looked up the hill at the graveyard.
“None. And no sign of a struggle or anything like it. Of course, it’s dark out. We’ll know more about what happened up there in the morning. Meanwhile, I’ve called in some portable floodlights to help”
“Damn her!” Phil paced. “I’m going to wring her scrawny neck when we find her.”
“If, Phil.” Tracy put the dog down on the ground. “If we find her. She would never have left Archie on his own willingly.”
Instead of her usual casual fade-in, Granny used every bit of energy she could muster to pop up in front of Milo without warning. “She’s at the homestead!”
The mild-mannered clairvoyant slapped his hand over his heart to quiet his nerves. “Granny!”
All eyes turned to him.
“She’s at the homestead digging for the gold.” Granny told Milo.
“Emma’s digging for the gold?”
“What?” Phil Bowers moved in next to Milo. Tracy and Martinez followed. “She’s looking for the gold?”
“Granny says Emma’s digging for gold up at the homestead.” He held up his hand to silence the living so he could concentrate on what Granny was saying.
“I think,” Milo said, trying to piece together Granny’s excited message, “Emma’s being made to dig. Granny says they’re going to kill her.”
Before the others could react, Phil Bowers jumped back into his truck and peeled off in the direction he’d come. As he maneuvered the vehicle with one hand, he used his other to call home on his cell.
“You LIED TO us.” Peter Quinn brandished the gun in Emma’s sweaty face.
“No, I didn’t. Billy said twentyfive paces north of the well. Are you sure we’re north?”
He closed in on her. “If we had some rope, I swear I’d enjoy swinging you from that big oak. Was good enough for your ancestor.”
Emma didn’t dare turn to look at the tree. She was afraid she’d faint.
“She’s right, Peter, you might be off a bit in the direction. So just keep digging.”
“You mind your own business, woman. If I say this is north, then it’s north.” He looked up again at the stars, recalculating his direction. When he looked back down, he pointed to another spot more to the right of the earlier dig. “Dig there.”
Emma had just scooped up her first new batch of dirt when they heard a noise in the distance. The three of them stopped to listen. It was a truck, a large dark pickup, coming down the road from the Bowers ranch like a bullet train. Its headlights were off. Barking accompanied the roar of the engine. Ripping through the barbed-wire fence like it was string, the huge truck bore down on them like Batman gone country.
The lights of the truck came on just as two snarling German shepherds jumped from the back. Linda Quinn froze, her gun down at her side. Her husband screamed at her to shoot the dogs, then raised his own gun. Emma lifted the shovel and brought it down on his gun arm. He screamed. Dropping his weapon, he turned to take a swing at her with his good arm, but the shovel was in motion again. Emma, holding the spade like a baseball bat, aimed for his knees. With her last bit of strength, she felled him like a giant redwood.
“WE NEED TO Go back to the cemetery, Phil.”
“We don’t need to go anywhere, Emma.”
“Well, I need to go back. I have to talk to Billy Winslow again.”
They were gathered once more around the large pine dining table at the Bowers’ home. Heaped on platters were pancakes, scrambled eggs, toast, and one large serving plate with both bacon and plump sausages. The air was heavy with the mingled scents of spicy fried pork and sweet maple syrup. They had all spent the last four hours answering the detectives’ questions about the activities of the night, and even though it was only eight o’clock in the morning, for the people gathered around the table, it felt like the day should be ending, not beginning.
As soon as Emma finished the bite of pancake in her mouth and took a drink of orange juice, she cleared her throat. “Thank you, everyone, for everything.” She started to tear up. “I don’t know what I would have done, especially once that guy realized there might not be gold buried by the well.”
Susan Steveson smiled. “Just following Phil’s orders.”
“My orders were for you to keep watch on the Reynolds place, not for you and Glen to play superheroes,” Phil growled as he drank coffee. “And you two,” he said, looking at Milo and Tracy, “were supposed to stay in the cottage and wait it out. I had it under control. What if the killers had still been in the graveyard?”
Milo looked sheepish. Tracy gave off a humph as she finished a bite of eggs.
“And what in the hell were you doing?” He glared at Emma. “You promised me you wouldn’t go to the graveyard until morning.
“It was just an impulse, Phil. I didn’t plan on breaking my promise. But if I hadn’t, those two would have broken into the cottage. They told me so. Who knows what they would have done to us all?”
Emma speared a sausage with a serving fork and plopped it on Phil’s plate, along with two slices of crisp bacon. “Here, go crazy. You deserve it.”
Susan w
alked around, refreshing people’s coffee. When she reached Phil, she kissed the top of his bald head. “You can’t save the world alone, dear. Sometimes you need help. Even superheroes know that.”
Phil finally gave in to Emma visiting the Pioneer Cemetery again. Not that he had a choice. She was determined to go with or without him. The only option he had was whether or not to go with her. He had only one suggestion-a strong one-that she ask the detectives working the case for their permission first. The cemetery was still cordoned off and under their jurisdiction.
It took some convincing on both Emma and Phil’s part for Detective Martinez to allow them to bypass the yellow tape, but he finally agreed, with the provision that he go with them. Emma’s argument was that she had an idea about where the gold was buried, and that unless they found it, the town might end up crawling with fortune hunters.
Leaving Tracy, Archie, and Milo back at the Bowers ranch, Emma and Phil met Martinez at the bottom of the road to the graveyard. The detective nodded to the deputy guarding the entrance, and he let them pass under the tape. At the top of the hill, Emma asked the men to stay a bit behind her. She wasn’t sure how Billy would feel about an audience.
“So there are ghosts all over the place?” Martinez asked, his eyes darting back and forth over the hilly terrain filled with gravestones.
“Right now there aren’t any here. So you can relax, Detective.” She glanced over her shoulder as she spoke.
She made her way to Billy’s bench. “Billy, you here?” She waited, but nothing happened. “Please come out and talk to me.”
She walked around the bench and a few paces to the left and right, hoping he would materialize, but he didn’t. Stopping, she surveyed the graveyard and noticed there were now a couple of ghosts in attendance. One was the young childless mother. She sat by the tree near the children’s memorial rocking empty arms, as Emma had seen her do on her first visit. The other was Garrett Bell.
The ghost of Garrett Bell approached her.
“Do you know where the gold is, Garrett? Did Billy tell you after all?”
He shook his head. “No, he did not. Do you know?”
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