They drove back to the house, and parked in the same spot as before. Moira got out of the car, then looked around and frowned. There were traces of graffiti on the barn, and ripped up papers in the mud.
“What happened here?” she asked as Chris pulled up beside them.
“Protesters,” the older man grumbled. “They crashed a Santa photo op here the other day. I don't know why they keep targeting me. There's a dairy farm not too far away, but of course they aren’t in the public eye, so the protesters don't target them. I’d like to see them try to release some cattle into the wild for once, instead of my deer. They scared the poor kids half to death, with their chants and posters.”
“I'm sorry,” the deli owner said automatically. She followed him toward the reindeer pen, lost in thought. Something was nagging at back of her mind. Protesters? Were they the same ones that Mr. Nowak had been involved with? Some sort of animal rights group, maybe?
“Oh, my goodness,” Candice said as the reindeer came into view. “They're so cute.”
“Here's some grain,” the man said. “I'm sure they’ll come right over. I've been busy cleaning up the protesters’ mess, and their breakfast is a bit late today. Go ahead and pet them if you like. Don't let them nibble on your fingers or your clothes. They may be cute, they do have teeth, and they’ll chew a hole right through a shirt as bad as any goat will.”
While Candice pet and fed the reindeer, Moira looked around. What had Mr. Nowak been doing here the night of his death? She felt a chill.
“Thank you so much for letting me see them,” Candice was saying. “They're beautiful. You’ve got your own little zoo here.”
“They usually have more space. See those other pastures? I rotate them during the warmer months, so they always have fresh grass, but during the winter I’ve found it’s best to keep them close to the barn. It’s where the feed is, and my old bones don’t like carrying it too far these days. Their pen is usually cleaner, mind you, but my pitchfork broke, and I haven’t bought a new one yet.”
Moira stared at him. Hadn’t Ashleigh said her husband had been impaled on something sharp, with multiple tines… something just like a pitchfork?
“Candice, sweetie, we should get going,” she said, her mouth suddenly dry. “We still have to finish Christmas shopping, and the stores will be busy.”
“You're right,” she said. “Hold on, I just want to feed them one more handful of grain.”
Candice scooped up another handful of grain, then paused with her hand on the bin’s lid. Moira saw her squint down at the ground, which was a mix of dirt and straw.
“Hey, it looks like someone lost a watch here. Is this yours?” she asked, picking up a gold wristwatch. Tossing her handful of grain to the reindeer, she carefully brushed off the back of the watch. “Harper Nowak. Mom, isn’t that the name of the guy who got killed?”
CHAPTER TWELVE
* * *
“Now, why did you have to go and find that?” Chris said.
Candice spun around, shocked by the man's tone of voice. His kindly demeanor had vanished completely.
“Candice, come over here right now,” Moira said, her voice harsher than she had meant it to be.
Visibly shaken, Candice took a couple of steps back toward her mother. Chris held his hand out and she froze. “Hand me that watch, please.”
“Don't do it,” Moira warned. “Mr. Yule, I want some sort of proof that we’re going to walk away from here.”
“That's not going to happen,” the man said. “I’ve got the feelin’ you two ladies are smart enough to put two and two together.”
“You won’t get away with it if you hurt us,” she warned, trying to keep her voice steady. “Detective Jefferson is a personal friend, and he’s quite good at his job.”
“I've got a lot of property,” the man said. “I'm guessing you didn't tell anyone you came here. Even if you did, I'll just tell the cops that I last saw you pulling out of my driveway. It's winter. The roads are bad. For all they’ll know, the two of you went off the road somewhere. They've got a lot of looking to do, and a lot of ground to cover. They would have no reason to suspect me.”
“We already found one body here,” Moira pointed out. “Someone will connect the dots. You’ll get caught, one way or another.”
Her heart was pounding in her chest. She was terrified, not only for herself, but for her daughter. She wanted to protect Candice more than anything. Why she hadn’t suspected Chris before, she didn’t know. The body had been found on his property, for goodness sake. She supposed that she had been so distracted by Mrs. Nowak’s frightening photos that she had just overlooked Chris’s possible involvement. It didn’t matter now. All she wanted was for her daughter to get out of there safely.
“I… I’m sorry,” Candice said. “I didn’t mean to.” She handed the watch over to him, then quickly backed up until she was standing next to her mother.
“It’s not anything personal,” he said, pocketing the watch. “I’ve lived on this land for thirty years. I’m not spending my last years in prison.”
“Candice, get in the car,” Moira hissed. The man didn’t have a gun. What was he going to do? There were two of them, and only one of him.
“Don’t either of you move a muscle,” he said.
Moira ignored him. She grabbed her daughter by the arm and began backing toward the SUV. “Hurry,” she said, digging her fingers into Candice’s arm. At last, her daughter seemed to snap out of it. She turned and ran for the SUV, getting into the passenger seat. Waiting until she heard the car door slam shut, Moira turned and made her own bid for freedom, half expecting to feel the man’s fingers close on her shirt at any minute. She got into the driver’s seat and searched frantically for the keys, which had fallen into a cupholder.
Snatching them up, she straightened and looked for Chris. He was nowhere to be seen, but the barn door was open.
“Hurry, Mom,” Candice said.
“I am,” Moira said. “Call the police, sweetie.”
While her daughter pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed the three-digit emergency number, Moira shoved the key into the ignition and turned it. The instant the car started, she slammed the transmission into reverse and pressed down on the gas pedal. For a heart stopping moment, the tires spun in the mud, then they caught, and the car jerked backward.
She wasted some time trying to get turned around, slipping and sliding all over the place in her hurry to escape. Finally, they were facing the right way and she depressed the gas pedal again, anxious to get down the driveway. The car had barely begun to move when she heard a shot ring out. The car listed to one side and began to spin out. Candice screamed.
“Are you hurt?” Moira shouted. She had ducked automatically when the gunshot sounded, but now she straightened up and looked over her at daughter.
“I’m fine, but I think he shot the tire out,” Candice said. “What do we do?”
Moira pressed down on the gas pedal harder, but with the combination of mud and the flat tire, they hardly got anywhere. She was still wrestling with the steering wheel when another shot rang out. This time, the back window shattered, and the car jerked again as another one of the tires went flat.
“He must be using bird shot or buck shot, not slugs,” Moira said. “He might hit one of us accidentally.”
“He’s going to hit one of us on purpose,” Candice shouted. “He’s trying to kill us!”
“This isn’t working…” She looked around, trying to think quickly. “Get out and run toward the farmhouse. I’ll distract him while you go. Maybe we can barricade ourselves inside.”
She opened her door before her daughter could respond, not wanting to argue. She jumped out and began to wave her arms around. “I’m over here,” she said. “Right here!”
The barrel of the shotgun poked around the edge of the SUV, and a second later Chris’s enraged face followed. Moira ducked just in time as he pulled the trigger and another blast went off.
She chanced a glance to the side to see Candice on her way to the house. Hoping the man didn’t notice, she hurried around the front of the car. She heard the sound of him racking the shotgun back. She searched frantically for something to defend herself with, and found a rock buried in the muddy driveway. She picked it up and hurled it at Chris before ducking behind the car again. She heard a satisfying thump and swear from the man. Not wasting any time, she turned and ran after her daughter, expecting to hear a shot come after her any second.
The shot never came. She and Candice reached the porch safely. Candice pounded on the door, but Moira reached around her and turned the knob. It was unlocked, so she shoved the door open and pushed her daughter inside before stepping in herself and shutting the door behind her. She turned the deadlock.
“Hurry, go further in,” she said. “I don’t know if he’s going to shoot through the door. He might have his keys on him and come in after us.”
They rushed through the strange house. Moira followed her daughter, not caring where they went as long as it was away from the man that was trying to kill them. Suddenly, Candice skidded to a stop.
“Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?”
Moira edged closer so she could peer over Candice’s shoulder. There, in the doorway to the kitchen, was an older woman, a cast iron pan held defensively in her hands.
“Please,” Candice said. “Someone’s trying to kill us.”
“What are you talking about?” the woman asked. Moira had a sinking feeling that this was Chris’s wife.
“The old guy outside. He has a gun. He’s shooting at us. You must’ve heard the shots.”
“Christopher?” The woman said. “Is he the one that’s shooting you?”
Candice seemed to realize who she was talking to. She stepped backwards, and bumped into Moira.
“What did you do to my husband?”
“We didn’t do anything. You have to believe us. He… he killed someone, and he’s trying to keep us from telling anyone.”
She held her breath, watching the woman’s face. Did this woman know about her husband’s crime? Would she choose to protect him, or to protect them?
“Chris would never kill anyone,” the woman said after a moment.
“The body that was found on your property, Mr. Nowak,” Moira said. “He’s the one that Chris killed. He was involved with the protesters that have been bothering you.”
She saw the shock in the woman’s face. Something in her believed them.
“No…” She took a step backward. “Chris wouldn’t… He would never…”
They all jumped as they heard a banging at the front door.
“We’re telling the truth,” Moira said. “He’s trying to shoot me. He’s trying to shoot my daughter. Please, I know he’s your husband, but you have to help us.”
The older woman faltered, then said “Come in here. I don’t know what Chris is doing, but I’m going to have a talk with him and then we’re going to call the police up here to figure everything out.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
* * *
Relieved, Moira walked into the kitchen, guiding her daughter ahead of her. The older woman set the pan down on the island.
“The two of you take a seat at the table, now. I’m going to go see what this is all about.”
“Please, don’t let him in,” Candice said. “He’s going to kill us.”
“Look, I don’t know what you ladies did or didn’t do, but that’s not how we handle things. No one’s getting shot on my watch. Chris has got some explaining to do.”
She left the room. Moira glanced over at her daughter. “We should get out of here,” she said.
“Where would we go?” Candice asked. “We can’t drive the SUV, and he has a truck. He’ll just catch us if we try to leave on foot.”
“We can’t let him come in here and shoot us,” Moira said. “My only priority is to protect you. I would rather take my chances in the woods than in here.”
It was too late, anyway. She heard the front door slam open, and raised voices from the other room. She tensed, moving to stand in front of her daughter.
“Chris, don’t you dare go in there with that loaded gun.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she heard the man shout back. “I’m doing my part to protect us. You just stay out of the way.”
She heard footsteps coming down the hallway, and felt as if her heart was about to stop when she saw Chris come into the room and point the shotgun straight at them.
His wife wasn’t far behind. She hurried forward and pulled the gun down. The shotgun went off, the shot hitting the floor and sending shrapnel everywhere.
“Chris!” his wife screamed. “What is wrong with you?”
“I’m not dying in prison,” he shouted back, shaking her off. “I’m trying to protect us, woman. Stay out of this. This has nothing to do with you.”
“Don’t you dare talk to me that way,” the woman said. She slapped him across the face. Stunned, Chris turned his attention away from Candice and Moira and stared at his wife.
“Did you just hit me?” he asked, his voice mild with surprise. “After forty years of marriage, you hit me?”
“I would do the same with any man who dared to point a loaded gun at a woman and her child in my kitchen,” his wife said, putting her hands on her hips. “Now put that thing down and start explaining.”
His expression amazed, Chris lowered the gun, but didn’t let go of it. “Look, Tillie, I made a mistake, alright? I made a bad mistake, and I’m trying to cover it up. That’s all.”
“So, what they said is true?” his wife asked, taking half a step back. “You killed that man?”
“Oh, don’t look at me like that. He was trying to break into the reindeer pen, all I did was shove him away. He slipped on some ice, and fell back against the pitchfork. He was already dead by the time I got him off of it. I would’ve called an ambulance if that would have helped, but it was too late. What was I supposed to do? I’m not giving up my freedom for a dead man. I dragged him out to the woods and thought that would be the end of it. No one goes out there anymore.”
“You killed someone on our property and didn’t tell me, and you didn’t tell the police, and you were going to live with that for the rest of your life?” Tillie said, her voice rising with every word. “I’m not standing for this, not from anyone, but especially not from my husband. I want you out of here.”
“Tillie, come on. We’ve been married forty years. You’re the love of my life.”
“Chris, the man I fell in love with wouldn’t kill anyone, and he certainly wouldn’t lie about it. Besides, I’m not spending the rest of my life married to a man in prison.”
“Weren’t you listening? I’m not going to prison. We’ve just got to take care of these two, then we can go on living as we have been. This is our home, Tillie. We built it from the ground up. Everything we have here, we earned with our own two hands. We can’t let go of all of this.”
“Are you really saying that you would rather live with the blood of three people on your hands than face up for a crime you committed? I am ashamed to call myself your wife. You put the gun down right now and go wait in the living room. I’m going to call the police, and they’ll take it from there. I may not be perfect myself, but I would never stand by and watch two women get murdered. I don’t care if it’s my own husband doing the shooting. These are innocent people, Chris.”
“These are people we don’t know, Tillie. Are they more important than our life together?”
“What sort of life would we have after this? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing I let you kill a mother and her daughter in cold blood right in front of me, and I certainly wouldn’t be able to live with you.”
Losing patience, Chris shoved his wife away with one arm and raised the gun. Moira closed her eyes, but instead of a bang, she heard a click.
“Dangit,” the man said. “I’m out.”
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He reached into his pocket for more shells, but by then his wife had gathered herself and had placed herself between him and his targets.
“Tillie, get out of the way,” the man said.
“I’m not letting you kill them,” she said. “You’d have to shoot me too. Are you really willing to do that, Chris?”
“Tillie…”
“Mom,” Candice whispered. She nodded down the hallway. Moira saw what her daughter had noticed; through the window, at the other end of the hallway, there were red and blue flashing lights. The police had arrived, sans sirens.
“We should make a run for it,” the younger woman whispered.
A SEASON OF MURDER (The Darling Deli Series Book 29) Page 6