Buried Sins

by Marta Perry

  “Very pretty.” Francine barely turned her expensively coiffed ash-blond head to glance out the window.

  “You didn’t look,” Caro accused, half laughing.

  It was good to see Francine again, but rather odd, too. They’d had a good relationship, a friendship even, but she’d always been aware of their employer/employee relationship.

  Francine gave an elaborate sigh. “Really, Caroline. You should be aware that I’m not a scenery person.”

  “True. I’ve never known anyone who was more urban than you.” Even in Santa Fe, where most people gloried in the magnificent outdoors, Francine had looked slightly too sophisticated to fit in.

  She’d been surprised that Francine hadn’t gone back to her native San Francisco after her husband’s death, but she’d been devoted to running the gallery and continuing Garner’s charities. There had been rumors of a suit launched by Garner’s children from his first marriage, contesting his will, but Francine had never mentioned it.

  Francine touched her hand. “Now you know how much I care about you, to be willing to spend time in this rural wilderness. I suppose there’s not even a decent coffee bar in this small town of yours.”

  “Well, no.” She tried to imagine one of the stolid Pennsylvania Dutch farmers picking up the latest mocha cappuccino before heading out to do the milking. “But my sister makes a fine cup of coffee.”

  How long would Francine last here? Probably not for more than a few days, but she was touched that Francine would make the effort at all.

  “I’ll defer judgment on your sister’s coffee until I’ve tasted it, if you don’t mind. Now tell me. Has anything more happened with regard to Tony?”

  She’d been keeping Francine up to date at her insistence, so there wasn’t much new to tell. “Not since I talked with you after we found out about that safe-deposit box and Tony’s wife. Believe me, that was enough of a shock to last quite a while.”

  Francine frowned for an instant and then smoothed the frown away, always careful to preserve her flawless complexion. “I’m not sure it was a good idea to take the local cop along on that expedition. Why tell the police something they don’t already know?”

  “He’s all right.” She pushed the memory of that kiss away. “Anyway, I could hardly hide the existence of all that money. If Tony was involved in something illegal, I don’t want it in my possession.”

  “I suppose not. But as for that first wife—well, darling, he should have told you about her, but I refuse to believe there wasn’t a divorce. Tony was hardly the type of man to commit bigamy.”

  She had to smile, even though the situation wasn’t humorous. “Is there a type of man likely to do that?”

  “You know what I mean.” Francine dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “I’m relieved nothing else has happened. Perhaps whoever was playing games has tired of it.”

  “Maybe.” She wasn’t convinced she was at the end of this trouble, but maybe she was just being pessimistic.

  “So, are you about ready to give up your rural solitude and come back to Santa Fe where you belong?”

  “I don’t think so.” She couldn’t imagine how Francine was going to take her news. “As a matter of fact, my family wants me to create and run a crafts center and shop in conjunction with the inn.”

  Francine’s head swiveled to give Caro the full effect of a disbelieving stare. “You’re not going to tell me you’re settling in here for good.”

  “Well, maybe not forever. But for the foreseeable future, anyway.”

  To her surprise, Francine didn’t jump into telling her what she should do, as was her usual practice. Instead she turned back, to stare absently at the winding road ahead for a long moment.

  “Much as I hate to say this, maybe that’s the best thing for now.”

  An odd note in her voice set Caro’s nerves on alert. “What do you mean?”

  “That’s really the reason I came.” Francine didn’t seem to want to look at her. “I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but I feel as if I have to warn you.”

  “Warn me about what?” Her hands tightened on the steering wheel.

  “Something happened at that last charity auction we ran.” Francine’s voice was slow. Reluctant. “There was an elaborate turquoise and silver pin—an original design by a noted Zuni artist. Do you remember it?”

  “Yes, of course I remember it. I set up the display and did the photographs.” She’d held the beautiful thing in her hands, marveling at the artistry and craftsmanship, knowing that however good she was, she’d never make anything that perfect.

  “The new owner had it valued. It’s a fake.”

  Her head spun. “How could that be? I worked on it. I know it was genuine. It was checked out by the insurance expert before it went on display. Surely they don’t think that the gallery had anything to do with the fraud.”

  “Not the gallery,” Francine said. “You.”

  Caroline narrowed her eyes, trying to make out the sign that was nearly hidden by a rampant growth of wild roses. It would be hard enough to see in the daylight; in the dusk it was nearly impossible. She had to come to a stop to read the sign, and even then it wasn’t reassuring. She wasn’t supposed to be on Twin Forks Road, was she?

  She’d followed Emma’s directions to reach the Stoltzfus farm and arrived there without incident. Even now, several carefully wrapped quilts rested on the backseat, ready to be shown in the craft center once it opened. Now getting back home was the problem.

  Maybe she was jumping the gun, collecting materials for the shop while it was still in the planning stages, but she wanted to be sure she had enough inventory to give her new project a chance of success.

  Besides, it had been a distraction from the bad news Francine had brought with her when she arrived three days earlier. Since then they’d gone over the counterfeit backward and forward, exploring every possibility, without coming to any conclusion.

  Francine had reiterated her support a number of times, but Francine was also concerned for her gallery’s good name. She wouldn’t sacrifice that for the sake of friendship, and Caro didn’t want her to. But where did that leave her?

  She hadn’t been able to bring herself to tell her grandmother and sisters about this new complication. How long could she expect even their support to last?

  Grams would say that there was Someone who was always there to support her. Emma had said that if God seemed distant, it was because she had moved away, not God. Maybe that was true, but if it was, how did she bridge that gap?

  Lights flashed in her rearview mirror and she looked up, startled. Apparently she wasn’t the only one on this lonely road. Good. It felt a little less isolated. It must lead somewhere, hopefully to a road whose name she’d recognize before it was completely dark.

  The driver behind her came up fast—too fast on this narrow road. His lights reflected in her eyes, and she flipped the rearview mirror to diminish the glare. Irritation edged her nerves. If he was in that much of a hurry, why didn’t he just pass her?

  She eased ever so carefully closer to the side. There could be a ditch or a drop-off, hidden by the lush undergrowth. She raised her hand to motion him around—

  The car rammed her, snapping her neck back and taking her breath away. Shock ricocheted through her, and she stepped on the gas in an automatic reflex.

  The car surged forward, but he was right on her tail, bumping her again and sending the car fishtailing before she regained control. Crazy—he had to be crazy.

  She clutched the wheel, hunched forward as if to ward off a blow, pressing down on the gas. Please, please. Help me.

  No hills to deal with, thank goodness, but she went shrieking around the bends blindly, terrified that she’d meet someone coming, but at least then she wouldn’t be alone out here with a maniac on her tail—

  He came up fast, lights glaring, and rammed her again. She fought the wheel, but it did no good, she couldn’t regain control, she was losing it—

&nbs
p; The car spun dizzyingly and plunged off the road. Her body was thrown backward, then forward as the car lurched to a stop in a mass of rhododendron bushes. The airbag deployed, muffling her. For a moment she couldn’t move, couldn’t even assess whether she was hurt.

  But she had to move. She could hear the other car, coming back toward her, engine roaring. She had to get out, now, before he reached her.

  She fumbled with the seat belt, freeing herself, shoving at the folds of the airbag, and slid across to the passenger door, shoving it open, clambering out.

  Taking a quick glance toward the road, she saw the car stop, a dark figure get out. No time to see more; she just ran. Into the dark, anywhere away from him.

  She stumbled through the undergrowth, brambles tearing at her clothes, and then burst into the woods where dry leaves rustled with every step.

  She couldn’t worry about being quiet—he was too close behind her. She rushed through the woods blindly, panic harsh in her throat, breath dragging painfully.

  She’d gained a little on him, hadn’t she? She could hear him crashing through the underbrush. Stop. Think. Once he got in the clear he’d overtake her easily.

  She looked around, eyes adjusting to the dimness. There—that clump of trees surrounded by bushes. If she could get in there before he came any closer, she could hide.

  Please, please. She ran to the bushes, threw herself on her stomach and squirmed her way beneath, reaching back to ruffle the dry leaves so that she’d leave no telltale traces.

  Just in time. She could hear him now, closer, so close she could hear the ragged gasps of his breath.

  She curled into a ball, hiding her face against her knees. Please, Lord. Please. If You’re there. If You hear me, protect me.

  The footsteps came closer, crunching the leaves. A low chuckle chilled her bones. Did he see her?

  A whisper, so soft it might have been a flutter of birds’ wings. It came again, a little louder.

  “Caro.” A whisper, just on the edge of hearing. “Caro, come out. Come out.”

  She pressed her face tight against her knees, clenching her teeth. He knew where she was, she would feel a hand grabbing her, dragging her out—

  He turned. His feet rustled through the leaves, going back toward the road.

  She let out the breath she’d been holding. Wait, wait, don’t move yet, not until he’s farther away.

  Finally she couldn’t hear him any longer. She crawled out. Don’t go toward the road, he could be waiting. The other way—that was the only safe thing. She moved slowly, cautiously, one step at a time.

  Nothing. If he heard her, if he was coming, she’d know it. She hurried blindly through the woods, away from the road, falling, getting up, running, falling again, until finally she was in a field, the stubble of grass under her feet, and ahead of her the lights of a farmhouse.

  The brightness of electric light, not Amish, then. They’d have a phone. She started toward the house at a staggering run. She was safe.

  Thank You. Thank You.

  Zach sent a cautious glance toward Caroline as he drove down the lane from the Miller farm to the main road. “Are you sure you don’t want to stop by the E.R., just to be on the safe side?”

  Caro shook her head, reaching up to lift a strand of hair away from the bandage that adorned her forehead. “You heard Mrs. Miller. Nothing but bumps, bruises and abrasions.”

  “Margo Miller is used to patching up three accident-prone sons, but that doesn’t make her a doctor.”

  She turned her head slightly to smile at him. “I’m all right, really. I just want to go home.”

  “If you’re sure.” His stomach had been tied up in knots since he got the call from John Miller that Caro had turned up at his door. It began to ease, just a little, at the smile. “Have you thought of anything else about the car?”

  She moved restlessly. “We’ve already gone over all that.”

  They had, but he suspected she needed to talk it out before she reached the inn. “Sometimes something else comes back once the initial shock has passed.”

  “I didn’t really get a good look—just lights in my rearview mirror.” Her voice tightened on the words, as if she didn’t want to relive those moments.

  “What about when you got out of your car? Did you try to see where the other vehicle was?”

  She glanced toward him, her breath catching. “You’re right. I did. It was just a dark shape, but I’m sure it was a sedan. I guess that doesn’t help much.”

  “It eliminates all the pickups in the county,” he said lightly. “We might find something when we go over your car. When he rammed you, he might have left a paint chip that would tell us the color.”

  “I didn’t think of that.” She shook her head. “I haven’t been thinking of much of anything, to tell the truth. Just…scared.”

  “That’s not surprising.” It took an effort to keep his voice level when he thought of her in danger out on that lonely road. “You’re entitled after what you went through. Any chance you got a look at the driver?”

  “It was dark. I couldn’t see anything about him.” Her voice tightened, alerting him. There was more, he was sure of it.

  “Notice how he walked? Did he give the impression of a young man?”

  “I didn’t see him, I told you.”

  “Hear him, then. Did he speak?”

  Her hands twisted together in her lap. This was it. She’d heard him.

  “Not to say ‘speak.’ He…whispered.”

  He wanted to reach out, to cover those agitated fingers with his, but he couldn’t. “What did he whisper?”

  “My name.” Her voice was the whisper now.

  “You’re sure?”

  At her nod, his jaw clenched. It wasn’t a random thing, then. He hadn’t really thought it was, but there was always a chance. He glanced at her.

  “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

  She held out against the question for a moment, and then she nodded. “He didn’t say Caroline. He said Caro.” Her fingers twisted again. “Tony called me that. He…I didn’t believe he could be alive. But who else would know?”

  She sounded at the end of her rope, and for a moment he couldn’t think of her as a suspect, only as someone he cared about, someone who was hurting.

  “I don’t think you can assume that.” He tried to keep his feelings from sounding in his voice. It wouldn’t do either of them any good to let her know he cared. “Your sisters call you Caro. I’ve heard them. Probably a lot of people around here have.”

  “I suppose.” She didn’t sound convinced.

  He could hardly blame her. The bottom line was that the attack on her wasn’t a random thing, so whether the attacker was Tony or someone else, this situation had taken a turn to the dangerous.

  They were almost at the inn, and once her grandmother and sisters saw her, to say nothing of her friend, he wouldn’t have a chance to say anything in private.

  “Look, I want you to promise me something.”

  She looked at him. “What?”

  “Promise me that you’ll stay at the inn tonight, okay?”

  She nodded. Her eyes were wide and frightened in the intermittent illumination of the streetlamps. “That’s not a permanent solution. Why is this happening, Zach?” Her voice choked on a sob. “I have to know.”

  He did reach out then, clasping her hand briefly in his. “I wish I could answer that. But I won’t stop looking until we know the truth. I promise.”

  FOURTEEN

  Caroline turned away from the stove and nearly tripped over Barney. When she’d made it clear she was returning to the apartment the next night, Grams had insisted that if she wouldn’t listen to reason, she’d at least take the dog along for protection.

  “You’ll take care of me, won’t you, sweetie?” She ruffled Barney’s silky fur, and he gave her a foolish grin and a soft woof.

  She was afraid Grams didn’t understand her insistence on coming back to her own p
lace. It wasn’t about asserting her independence, not anymore. She loved and trusted them.

  Just as important, she’d taken her first step toward trusting God again last night. Funny. She’d wrestled with how that would happen, and then when it came, it had been as natural as breathing.

  She walked into the living room, carrying her mug of coffee, and Barney padded at her heels. Much as she’d learned to love this place, it did seem lonely with darkness pressing against the windows. But she hadn’t really had a choice. Danger was coming closer, and she wasn’t going to let it get anywhere near her family. She’d face it here.

  Barney put his head on her knee, as if he sensed that her thoughts were getting too grim. She petted his head. “Sorry. I guess I’m not very good company, am I? Maybe if I talk to you, I can keep from thinking about what happened last night.”

  But she couldn’t. She kept hearing that voice whispering her name. She’d heard it last night, too, but at least she’d had the comfort of Rachel’s soft breathing in the other twin bed to help block it out.

  Caro. No one in Santa Fe had called her that but Tony. Still, Zach was right. Plenty of people here had heard the nickname. Even Zach had used it once or twice. Wasn’t it more rational to assume that the dark figure was someone, anyone, other than Tony?

  She was thinking too much again. She took a sip of the coffee and made a face. Why on earth had she made coffee? It would keep her up all night. Not that she expected to do much sleeping, in any event.

  Barney’s ears pricked, and he raised his head, giving a soft woof. A knock at the door followed a moment later.

  The dog didn’t act as if it were a stranger. She went to the window nearest the door and drew the curtain back. Her sisters stood on the doorstep.

  She’d thought this was settled. She opened the door, trying to look perfectly calm and confident.

  Before she could say a word, Andrea had elbowed her way in, arms laden, with Rachel right behind her.

  “Since you won’t come to us, we’ve come to you,” Andrea announced. She tossed a couple of sleeping bags on the rug in front of the fireplace. “We’re going to have a pajama party.”