The Fred Vickery Mystery Series: Books 1-3 (Fred Vickery Mysteries)

by Sherry Lewis

  Bits of moldy leaves and mud clung to his shoes and made his footing slippery. He scraped the bottoms of his shoes on a rock and trudged on, but within minutes he’d picked up enough new debris to make his feet slide when he hit a deep patch of winter leaves.

  He caught his balance and looked around, trying to get his bearings. Less than half a city block ahead the church stood stark and white against the night sky. He calculated how far he’d come and figured he had two more curves in the road, with a long straight patch in between. Maybe a quarter of a mile—uphill.

  Giving himself a mental pat on the back, he lowered his head into the wind again. But by the time he reached the church, his breath was coming in gasps and his knees ached from his effort.

  He paused, gulping air and letting his breathing slow. The road stretched black before him and he was still too far away from Enos’s house to pick up any lights through the trees.

  After a moment, he pushed on. One step after another. He cursed his age, his legs, his arthritis. He wished for the energy to bound up this hill the way he had as a young man. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and used his palms against his thighs to give his legs added strength.

  At long last he rounded the first curve and started down the straightaway. In the distance he could see lights winking through the trees.

  He thought about Jessica’s cocoa. About how he’d spend half an hour watching a television comedy with her before he headed back. And about how he’d get Enos to offer him a ride home without admitting to his overwhelming fatigue.

  He looked up again, trying to gauge his distance, but this time something else caught his attention. On the side of the road several feet ahead, a small white car sat in the shadows. It had been pulled far enough into the trees to escape his notice before.

  He slowed his step. This road was too narrow to leave a car there. Even pulled that far off the road, other drivers would have to swerve to avoid it.

  Squinting into the shadows, he tried to see it better. An elongated cross on the trunk glinted in the moonlight. A Chevy. Suzanne’s car.

  The taste of sick dread filled his mouth. It had been parked in Lacey’s parking lot. It had probably been the car that came up behind him as he left town. She’d known exactly where he was going.

  He didn’t stop. That would only alert her. But he scanned the roadside carefully and made certain of his footing with each step. He was less than five hundred feet from Enos’s house, but too far from any other civilization to be noticed. She’d chosen her spot well.

  He passed the car, straining to pick up any foreign sound, any hint that she might be waiting nearby. But he heard only silence and the sounds of the forest.

  Keeping his hands clenched tightly at his sides, he walked on. The cold bit at his fingers and numbed his skin, but he didn’t allow himself even a moment’s weakness.

  The lights from Enos’s house winked at him again, urging him to hurry. He walked a little faster. Maybe he could get close enough to raise their attention if he shouted.

  Four hundred feet.

  The trees backed away from the road, giving him a better view of his surroundings, providing fewer places for her to hide. If he could just get past the next grove of trees—

  Gravel crunched behind him. He ducked and turned, but something long and hard slammed into the small of his back.

  He cried out as he fell. Landing on his side in the dirt, he slid a few inches. Rocks and twigs scratched his face and neck. He gasped for breath, but could draw none.

  He rolled again as the weapon crashed to the earth beside him, inches from his face this time. Clawing at the earth with frozen fingers, he pushed himself upright and listened for her. Silence. Nothing but the night sounds and his own ragged breathing.

  He turned, half crouched, hands out, ready for the next attack. Nothing.

  Then he heard a sound, soft, almost indiscernible, but there. He tried not to turn in its direction, to act like he was searching for her somewhere else. He took a step away, but kept his senses alert.

  It came again.

  He tensed, turned and launched himself toward her, hands out and grasping for something to pull her down with. But he stumbled to the ground and the world fell silent again.

  By breathing in shallow gasps, he kept the pain in his back under control as he struggled to his feet again. Darkness and shadows surrounded him.

  He tried to shout for Enos, but his burning throat refused to make a sound. He started forward, limping now, but determined to get to Enos’s house.

  Every sense screamed to the alert as he walked. Leaves skittered across the road, wind whispered through the trees, in the distance a dog whined. He saw the lights on Enos’s front porch, could make out a shadow in the kitchen window, could see the moonlight reflecting off their mailbox at the side of the road.

  The scent of fresh, new soil floated on the air. The musty smell of leaves and old pine needles stung his nostrils. And then, suddenly, a new scent reached him. He ducked and twisted away, trying not to cry out as his knees pulled. He eluded her and slipped into the cover of the trees.

  He kept his eyes focused on Enos’s kitchen light and struck out toward it. He tried and discarded a number of dead branches as he pushed through the forest. He thought about using a rock, but in the trees he’d never hit his mark.

  He could hear her now, coming after him, crashing through the underbrush, frantic to stop him. She was younger and more agile, and she could keep him in sight. He could only hear her. And he only a few seconds to locate a weapon.

  In a narrow clearing he found a heavy branch nearly broken from a tall spruce. He snatched at it, but it hung fast. He needed something to defend himself with—anything.

  He struggled to rip the branch from the tree’s trunk as she burst through the trees. At the sight of her face, his efforts became more frantic. But when she saw him standing there, she stopped. Her chest heaved from exertion and her hair hung limp into her face.

  She took a step toward him. “I liked you, Fred.”

  He redoubled his efforts with the tree limb.

  “Why didn’t you leave it alone? I didn’t hurt anyone who didn’t deserve to be hurt. I didn’t hurt anyone who hadn’t already hurt someone else.” She moved closer still.

  The scent of her perfume reached him and he pulled on the tree limb again.

  “They were bad men, Fred. Archie. Garrett. They hurt my girls.” Her eyes pleaded with him to understand.

  And part of him did.

  “Don’t tell. Please.”

  He thought of Alison and hesitated. She’d done this for Alison. Garrett had hurt the child in ways no woman should ever be hurt. He’d stolen part of her. “Why did you let Douglas take the blame?”

  “It’s not what I wanted. But I couldn’t come forward, could I? They wouldn’t understand. And then who would look after my girls?” She lowered the club slightly. “I didn’t mean to kill him. I just wanted him to admit how sick he was, but he laughed. About Alison. He laughed.” Her voice dropped. “I couldn’t stand the thought of what he did, but I asked him and he laughed.”

  Fred loosened his grip on the tree limb.

  “He admitted it,” her voice rose again and her eyes glittered with hatred.

  Fred tightened his grip. “Enos would have made sure—”

  “Enos? What could he do? Men like Garrett get slapped on the wrist and sent back out into society to hurt other children. They don’t stop. Only one thing will ever stop them.”

  “No, Celeste.”

  “He hurt Alison.”

  “I know, and for that—”

  “What? What would you have done? Tell him he’s a bad boy?”

  “Of course not, but—”

  She looked away, breathing heavily. “He killed my Rosie. As surely as if he’d held the gun to her chin himself. He was evil. Sick. He only cared about one thing and he destroyed her. And I promised myself I’d never let it happen again. Ever. But then Garrett came. He tw
isted Suzanne the way Archie twisted me. He made her doubt me. She denied what I told her. She refused to listen. He destroyed her marriage—”

  “Suzanne and Douglas are divorced. Garrett didn’t do that.”

  “But they would have gotten back together. I know they would have. That’s why I told him to come.”

  “You told Douglas to come?”

  “You didn’t help me,” she said softly, and the spirit seemed to drain out of her. Her shoulders slumped and she dropped the hand holding the club the rest of the way.

  Fred took one cautious step toward her, but she didn’t react. He took another. He wouldn’t feel entirely safe until he’d gotten her weapon away.

  “We could have made everything all right for Alison if you’d helped me.”

  Three steps away from her, he held out his hand for the club.

  “Why didn’t you want to help Alison?”

  He took another step. “I did. I do.”

  “No, you didn’t.” She shook her head in confusion.

  “I was working to clear Douglas.”

  “That wasn’t for Alison.”

  He touched the club, but didn’t try to grab it yet. “Yes, Celeste. Having her dad go to prison for a murder he didn’t commit would have hurt her.”

  “No!” She whipped the club up and brought it down on him.

  He threw up his arms and blocked the blow, but pain exploded in his hands. He curled his fingers around the club and tried to pull it from her.

  She ripped it away and raised it over her head again.

  She’d kill him. This time she wouldn’t stop. He jumped backward and nearly lost his footing on the slippery ground covering.

  Celeste lunged at him. Fred dropped in front of her just before she reached him. She stumbled against him and tried to right herself. But Fred threw himself after her and used his weight and her momentum against her.

  She hit the ground on her knees. Fred flew at her and used every ounce of strength he had left to wrench the weapon from her.

  She used her hands then, clawing at his face and neck. Where she connected, Fred felt the sharp sting of broken skin.

  He threw the club aside. It wouldn’t do him a lick of good in such close quarters.

  Celeste scrambled after it on all fours.

  Fred staggered after her. Her fingertips brushed the club. He snagged her by the waist and dragged her several inches back. She kicked out at him, landing blows on one thigh, striking him on the opposite knee. His grip loosened and she pulled away again. She stretched her hand toward the club.

  Gripping her ankles, Fred tugged her away from the club again. He threw himself at her, landing squarely on her back and pinning her arms to the ground with his hands. She twisted and tried to throw him from her, but he settled himself more firmly on top of her and kept her pinned to the ground.

  He gasped for air, then immediately wished he hadn’t. It burned all the way into his lungs and back out.

  Now what? He couldn’t keep her like this indefinitely. She bucked beneath him, lifting her head and trying to bite his hands. He tried to shout for Enos, but nothing came out. Holding fast, he struggled to breathe, afraid he wouldn’t be able to keep her down long.

  Could he use his belt to tie her hands? Would that hold her long enough for him to get her to Enos? He heard a high-pitched whine and for a moment he thought Celeste had made the sound. The second time, he thought he recognized it. And the third, frantic barking confirmed his suspicions.

  A moment later, Enos crashed through the trees and a blur of white fur scampered across Fred’s boots and set up a ruckus in his ear.

  Enos stopped in his tracks, pushed his hat back on his head, and looked down at them. Fred’s relief at seeing him there weakened his grip. He sagged against Celeste for a moment until Enos started to laugh. “Good billy hell, Fred. Not again.”

  Fred knew what a sight they made, Celeste flat on her back, swollen and bleeding, and himself sprawled across her, but he could see nothing humorous about it. With unsteady arms, he pushed himself back up and glared. “If you’re going to stand there and laugh, go back home. Otherwise, get out your handcuffs.”

  Enos sobered instantly and crossed to them. “What am I going to do with you, Fred?”

  “Help me up.”

  But Fred managed to get himself upright again with little more help from Enos than a steadying hand on his back and a tug on one arm. Fred brushed mud and twigs from his pant legs. “How’d you know we were out here?”

  “Hettie Jeppson called and asked me to pass on something her mother-in-law remembered about Archie Devereaux. She seemed to think you were on your way to my place. It was pretty obvious what you were up to, so I called your place. But when Douglas said he hadn’t seen you, and that Maggie’d been asking all sorts of questions about Rosie, I decided I’d better come looking. I found Suzanne’s car on the highway, but it was Magnum here who heard something and tracked you down.”

  Enos pulled Celeste to her feet and worked handcuffs over her wrists. She put up a token resistance, but nothing Enos couldn’t subdue in an instant.

  Dragging her a few steps away, Enos looked back over his shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  Magnum danced across Fred’s boots, darted to Enos and back again, and looked up at Fred with eager, expectant dog eyes. Fred reached down and thumped him on the side. “I’m fine.”

  “Maggie’s going to come unglued.”

  “I know.”

  “What are you going to tell her?”

  Fred dragged in a deep, steadying breath and put his hand on Enos’s shoulder. “Me? I’m not going to tell her a blasted thing.”

  TWENTY EIGHT

  Fred lifted his arm while Doc Huggins adjusted the blood-pressure cuff around it. “Well?”

  Scowling in concentration, Doc pumped air into the cuff, counted, and released the pressure. “Seems okay.”

  Fred glowered at Enos and Douglas who stood side by side in the open doorway of his bedroom. “I told you this was ridiculous.”

  “And I told you that I wouldn’t say a word to Maggie about what happened up at my place last night as long as Doc gives you a clean bill of health.” Enos said. “That was our deal, remember?”

  “I remember.” Fred fixed his gaze on Douglas. “What are you laughing at?”

  “The two of you.”

  Enos’s brows knit and he looked offended. “What about us?”

  “I can’t believe you’re both afraid of Maggie. You’re terrified she’ll find out what you’ve been up to.”

  Fred breathed in and out while Doc nodded at intervals and listened to his chest. “I’m not afraid of my own daughter.”

  “Then why did you ask Enos to drag Doc over here to give you a checkup at eight o’clock at night instead of during office hours?”

  “I don’t mind,” Doc said with a laugh. “I’ve been playing games with the grand-kids all week long. I needed a night out.”

  Douglas made a noise of disbelief.

  “There’s a difference between fear and wisdom,” Fred said. “We’re just smart enough to know when not to deal with an issue.”

  “Is that what you call it?”

  “I think you’re being too tough on your dad,” Enos said. “You weren’t here the last time he got himself roughed up and you didn’t see what happened afterward. Maggie did real fine for the first few days, but after that she started watching him like a hawk. If she finds out he did it again, there’s no telling what she might do.”

  “Well, I don’t know how you think you’re going to keep it a secret. Just look at him.”

  “I already told Margaret how I fell while I was taking a walk,” Fred said.

  “He just didn’t mention that he had help.” Doc motioned for Fred to sit up. Laying one hand on Fred’s back, he thumped with the fingers of the other. “You’re lucky Enos found you when he did.”

  “You’re lucky Hettie Jeppson talked to her mother-in-law and called up to my place t
o tell you what she said,” Enos insisted. “I’d never have known you were out there otherwise.”

  “I don’t think you’re going to get past Maggie looking like that.” Douglas sounded skeptical. “Maybe we ought to tell her the truth.”

  “Never. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Fred pulled himself up straight and put on his most intimidating expression. “Besides, you’re in it now, son. Clean up to your eyebrows.”

  Enos nodded solemnly. “No going back. We made our deal.”

  “Okay,” Douglas conceded with some hesitation, “so Dad gets a checkup and we make sure he’s okay. If he is, nobody tells Maggie what happened between him and Celeste. What do you guys get out of it?”

  Doc stuck a tongue depressor into Fred’s mouth. “He adds more vegetables to his diet and he only has breakfast at Lizzie’s once a week.”

  “For six months,” Fred added.

  Doc nodded and tossed the tongue depressor into the garbage can. “For six months.”

  “And Maggie doesn’t find out what happened, so she can’t figure out a way to hold me responsible,” Enos said. “Believe me, that’s a hell of a good deal.”

  Douglas grinned. “What do I get?”

  Fred slipped his arms into his shirt. “You get to stay here rent-free for a month while you look for a job.”

  Douglas’s grin slipped. “Oh.”

  Doc looked up. “Is that what you’re doing, Doug? Staying on, I mean?”

  Douglas nodded. “Suzanne’s agreed to keep Alison here where she’s already pretty settled, and Alison needs me. I’ve got to stay.”

  “I think that’s a real smart decision. Are you getting her some professional help?” Doc asked.

  “Suzanne’s already made an appointment with a counselor in Denver. She’s going to take her to the few appointments, but I’ve offered to take her whenever Alison’s ready to be alone with a man again.”

  Doc smiled. “You’ll work it out, and Alison’s going to be all right. I have no doubt.” He turned to Fred. “Well, you’re okay—other than the scrapes and bruises. Looking at those knees, I can’t figure out how you’re still walking.” He shoved a handful of equipment into his bag. “But this had better be the last time I have to do this.”