Tad had his umbrella with him, as Mr. Always-Prepared had heard there was a 30 percent chance for rain again today. Looked like it was a 100 percent chance that Emily was going to get soaked. Slamming the car door, she moved quickly, yet cautiously, through the sheet of rain to the shelter of the porch. It would be just like her to fall on the wet grass and break her ankle now, too.
The front door and windows were still locked tight. The original leaded-glass windows would be next to impossible to break, even if there was something handy to smash them with. Unfortunately, the porch was devoid of all furniture. Not even a stray flowerpot offered itself up as a battering ram. The faded welcome mat certainly wouldn't do her much good, and she doubted she could pick the lock even if she had the right tools, which, of course, she didn't. She didn't even have a bobby pin in her chestnut hair. Emily decided she had to be world's worst heroine-in-training.
She left the shelter of the porch and headed back around the house. She remembered a small back door on the east side of the house. The rain was coming down even harder, if that was possible. At this rate, she'd need a boat in order to rescue anyone. She cheered aloud when she saw the window, covered by a heavy curtain, in the top half of the back door. The cinder block would easily break the window, but it was too far away to haul to the back door. Emily willed herself to think despite the bone-numbing chill of the rain. Thankfully, the red woolen scarf she had pinned around her cast today was keeping it relatively dry. She hefted her right arm. Her cast was heavy enough to break the glass, but she didn't want to risk re-creating the healing break in her arm. The only option left was to use her fist. She yanked off the red scarf and wrapped it around her left hand. Her cast was now sopping wet, but at least the break in her arm was still protected.
Emily closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and channeled Dorothy L. Sayers's heroine Harriet Vane. She had once broken a window using this method. Emily opened her eyes and punched with all her might. What did she have to lose, other than a few liters of blood if she split open her wrist? But, to her surprise and satisfaction, the window now sported a jagged hole and her wrist was both uncut and intact. She carefully used her scarf-covered hand to tap out the loose, jagged pieces. Standing on her tiptoes (thank goodness for high heels!), she could get her arm far enough inside the window to turn the lock. Seconds later, she stood in the dim, but blessedly dry, kitchen of the old farmhouse. Stepping carefully over the broken glass, Emily listened intently. The only sounds were the rain drumming a tattoo on the roof and her own breaths rasping harshly in the still house. An older dinette set had an air of abandonment about it and was the only furniture in the kitchen and attached dining room. The fridge hummed, and the ice machine rattled as it dumped a new load of ice, the sound magnified in the empty room. Emily cracked the fridge door open, then yanked it wide, surprised to see that it was fully stocked. If Arlene was leaving town, she would have cleaned out the refrigerator so as to not arouse suspicion in Stevie. Either she was in too big of a hurry to worry about keeping up appearances, or she planned to come back later.
Emily threw open a few cupboards, but as she expected, they were bare. The pantry was also empty, except for a few moldy onions and a rusty mousetrap holding an anemic hunk of cheese. As she moved into the living room, she stumbled over a box, dropping her pepper spray, which rolled off into the hallway. The living room was shrouded in darkness due to the drawn curtains and raging storm. She twitched aside one of the curtains at the front window. Rain slashed down, but no headlights appeared. She turned and bumped her way down the hallway, but she couldn't find her pepper spray in the gloom. She gave up the search, hurrying to explore the rest of the house.
Two doors opened off the hallway to the left, both leading to empty rooms. A small powder room under the stairs was also uninhabited. The final room on the right side of the hall appeared to be the master bedroom. There was a small alcove holding an old-fashioned secretary desk. Emily flipped open the top, but only dust bunnies held court inside. Not even a stray receipt remained. The en suite bathroom held a couple of smaller sealed boxes, but the medicine cabinet and small linen closet gave no sign of ever having been in use.
Lighting flashed and thunder boomed. Emily took advantage of the temporary illumination to hurry to the staircase. Every step creaked, and by the time she reached the second floor, her nerves were stretched to the breaking point. Another two bedrooms were on the left side of the hallway. One still bore traces of sticky tack on the wall as if a poster had hung there recently. Emily deduced that this had been Stevie's room. The right side of the hall held a full bath and what might have been another bedroom or study. Nothing remained but a few tightly sealed boxes. Those boxes were ticking time bombs. Arlene might return for them at any moment, and this rescue mission of Emily's could blow up in her face.
So far, Emily had not turned on any lights or called out, for fear Arlene would return and be upon her before Emily heard her. The looming boxes, the relentless rain, and the panic that threatened to swamp her had Emily throwing caution to the winds. She began screaming Helen's and Stevie's names. She hadn't noticed an inside entrance to a cellar, but she figured there had to be attic access somewhere up here. Emily went back to each closet to check their ceilings, but she didn't find any opening.
Hoarse from repeated shouting, Emily paused to peek out of a front-facing window. Still no sign of anyone. She was losing hope of backup arriving. Despite her instinct that Helen, Stevie, or both of them had to be somewhere in this house, she was ready to admit defeat. If she drove back to town now, she could get more people to help her search. She'd just have to take her chances that Arlene wouldn't come back while she was gone.
Emily headed back down the stairs, the creaking of the steps, the wet slap of her boots, and the rain creating its own symphony. When she reached the last step, however, the creaking continued. Emily held her breath and stood completely still at the base of the stairs. Could she be hearing the windmill screech from her place inside the house, even over the sound of the rain? Doubtful. She took a tentative step forward. The creaking continued. She desperately wished she was still holding on to her pepper spray. Had someone else entered the house?
Her heart in her throat, Emily took a quick peek outside. Tad's Prius remained the only vehicle in sight. Turning back to the hallway, she tried to determine the direction the sound was coming from. She called out Helen's and Stevie's names again. This time she heard a loud and distinctive thump coming from the master bedroom. Emily raced into the dark room, calling, "Who's there? Helen? Stevie?"
Darkness had filled the room so that she could barely make out the secretary in the alcove. She risked flipping on the overhead light, blinking rapidly against the sudden onslaught of brightness. As her eyes adjusted, the creaking sound began again. It seemed to be coming from behind her. Spinning around, Emily realized she had overlooked the second door next to the entrance to the room. She had checked the alcove, bathroom, and linen closet, but in the gloom, she hadn't seen the second door as she hurried to reach the stairs in the intermittent flashes of lightning.
She turned the lock in the doorknob and gave it a yank, but the door didn't budge. The creaking sound was louder now, but no voice answered her repeated calls. Running her fingers over the door, Emily tried to see what was preventing it from opening. Finding nothing, she got down on the floor to try and peer under it. A small, wedge-shaped rubber door stop was firmly shoved between the bottom of the door and the floor. Emily used the heel of her boot to kick at the stop until it finally slid back into the closet. This time when she turned the doorknob, the door opened easily at her pulling.
Emily fumbled for the light switch. The closet was in complete and utter darkness. She could now hear a whimpering sound coming from the back of the closet. Her fingers tripped over the switch. With one flick, light flooded the closet, and Emily fell to her knees beside the figure rocking rapidly back and forth, the floor creaking beneath her. Dragging as gently as she could with
shaking fingers and her cumbersome cast, Emily removed the gag from Helen's mouth. The second she dropped the offending rag, she pelted Helen with questions, but the woman only continued to whimper, her eyes disoriented and unfocused. Emily made quick work of removing the bonds from Helen's ankles and wrists, but Helen was too weak to stand. Emily was concerned by the pallor of her friend's face. Her cheekbones jutted and her eyes were glassy. Helen was a small woman by nature, sporting a trim, athletic build, but now she looked positively emaciated. Emily chafed at Helen's wrists, murmuring reassurances to her. When Helen began to cry in earnest, Emily rocked her like a baby, her own vision blurred with tears. Jim had been killed the previous Thursday. Today was Wednesday. Helen had, in all likelihood, been locked in this closet for the entire ensuing week. How could Arlene have done this? Helen was her friend. But then again, a woman who could kidnap a child and then commit murder in order to keep him would surely have no qualms about holding someone hostage, even if it was one of her friends.
Though she hated to leave Helen even for a minute, Emily took the time to race to the kitchen and snatch the orange juice she had seen earlier in the fridge. Once she managed to get some down Helen, she seemed to rouse a little. In a voice hoarse from disuse, Helen told Emily, in halting fits and starts, that she was sure Arlene had been drugging her through her food. When Arlene had last come to check on her, Helen had refused to eat. Arlene had shoved some water at her, telling her she had better drink up while she could because this would probably be her last chance. She then told Helen that she had a foolproof plan to pin Jim's murder on her. She was upset, though, because now she needed to hurry things up. She had spotted Stephen in town. Afraid of becoming dehydrated, Helen had drank the water. It wasn't until Arlene had left her again that Helen realized the water had been drugged too. She suspected that whatever she'd been giving her, Arlene had put in a much larger dose this time.
Helen's voice began to slur again, and she was having trouble focusing on Emily's face. Her eyelids drooped, but Emily couldn't let her lose consciousness now. She had to get Helen out of there before Arlene came back. Helen weighed practically nothing, but with only one good arm, there was no way Emily could carry her all the way to the car. She hated to take the chance of waiting on Tad, as it seemed increasingly doubtful he had gotten her message, but she didn't see what other choice they had. Surely Detective Gangly-Arms would get the message she had left for him. Emily tried to haul Helen to her feet, but she was dead weight. Emily smacked her cheeks lightly and gave her some more orange juice. Emily tried to keep her conscious by keeping up a running monologue. She told Helen that they'd all been looking for her, that everyone knew she was not guilty of murdering Jim, that Duke was safe at Emily's parents' house, and that she and Gabby had been to visit her mother at Serenity Falls. The mention of Duke and her mother seemed to penetrate the haze in Helen's brain. Her eyes, although still cloudy, focused on Emily's face.
Emily gave her an encouraging smile. "There you go. You're strong. We're going to get out of this. I promise. Tad is on his way." Or, at least, she hoped he was. Helen nodded as if she understood, so Emily continued. "You mentioned a Stephen. Did you mean Stephen Olsen? Did you know that Jim was his brother? Had you and Jim both figured out that Stevie is actually Stephen Olsen's missing son?"
Again, Helen nodded. She was attempting to speak, when her eyes shifted. They filled with terror. Emily twisted around to see what had frightened Helen. Arlene stood in the closet doorway, the Glock in her hand pointed directly at them. Emily had been too busy trying to revive Helen to listen for Arlene.
Arlene's voice was pleasant, but her eyes flashed with malice. "You're mistaken, Ms. Taylor, just as Jim Layton and my friend Helen here were. Stevie is my son. I raised him. I took care of him. I saw to it that he had everything he could ever need or want. I am his mother." Her voice rose, but the gun never wavered. "Do you hear me? Stevie is my son!"
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Despite finding Jim's body and being run off the road, Emily realized that she had never known true, stark terror until that moment. She was literally staring madness in the face. She didn't know how she hadn't noticed it before, but it was obvious now. Shifting to keep Helen behind her, Emily tried to stand up. Arlene ordered her back to the floor. Emily slumped back down, knowing full well that Arlene wouldn't hesitate to shoot her on the spot. Desperate to buy some time, Emily asked, "Where's Stevie? Is he okay? Does he know what you've done?"
"What I've done?" Arlene looked incredulous. "What I've done is provide a loving home with a devoted mom for a child who deserved it and was denied the chance."
Emily could see the fire of conviction in Arlene's eyes, and another thought occurred to her. "You loved Stephen Olsen, didn't you? But you thought he and his wife didn't deserve their baby because she was suffering from postpartum depression, unable to care for their son."
Arlene waved the gun in the air, and Emily backed up a little further. "Postpartum depression?" Her voice was high and thin. "That woman just didn't want to be bothered by a baby. It interfered with her shopping and sleeping." Her lips tightened. "'It.' That woman actually called him 'it.'"
Emily nodded, hoping she looked sympathetic rather than terrified. "I can see why you would find that so horrible. Stevie is a wonderful boy."
The gun lowered slightly, and Arlene smiled in a way that made Helen whimper behind Emily. "He is exactly like his father. Kind, smart, beautiful. That's why I named him Stevie. He never looked like a Jacob anyway. I did love Stephen, but he spent all his time doting on his wife. He hired me so that I could be the one to take care of that baby. He never even saw me."
"That must have hurt your feelings," Emily said, trying to keep Arlene talking.
"Hurt? Guess so, but I was used to it. My mom was too busy trying to climb the corporate ladder to ever bother with me. But my dad, my dad was wonderful. Why couldn't Stephen have been more like my dad?"
"I don't know," Emily said. "What's your father like?" And where was he, she wondered. Surely a father, if he was in his right mind, would never let his daughter get away with kidnapping a child.
"My dad was taken from me when I was only seventeen. The hospital intern who fell asleep at the wheel and hit him head-on was probably a mother, too. An overworked mother, more concerned about her career than her baby. I was left with nothing and no one."
Emily wasn't sure what to say next, besides the truthful, "I'm so sorry for your loss."
Arlene stared into space for a minute, and Emily took the opportunity to try and stand up again. Arlene jerked the gun back in her direction, and Emily once again eased back down. "You have no idea what loss is. You have the perfect parents, friends like that Gabby with her beautiful children that she probably ignores, and Ted or Tad or whatever his name is who wants to marry you and have a family." Arlene shook with rage.
"Gabby is an excellent mother, and Tad is just my friend. Besides, I'm not sure I even want to have children. I worry I wouldn't be a good-enough mother. Not selfless enough. The way you are with Stevie."
Emily had hoped these words would soothe Arlene, but they only served to inflame her further. "Not sure you even want to have children? Must be nice to have that choice."
Emily stayed silent this time. Letting out a choked sob, Arlene said, "I had to have a hysterectomy when I was seventeen for severe endometriosis. I lost my dad the same day I had the surgery." Tears spilled over and left track marks down her flushed face. Emily's heart broke for the seventeen-year-old girl who had truly lost her whole world. But the woman Arlene had become had to be stopped. Her losses had snapped something in her, causing her to lose touch with reality. When Arlene swiped at the tears and steadied the gun with both hands, Emily knew their time was running out. Helen was gripping the back of her shirt so tightly she couldn't have moved if she wanted to. Since the sympathetic approach hadn't worked, she decided to try the defensive one. It probably wouldn't penetrate through Arlene's psychosis, but if she could ke
ep her talking, maybe there would be time for Tad or Detective Gangly-Arms to show up. She didn't believe in ESP, but she still sent out fervent messages to Tad through the ether, begging him to hurry, to know what a desperate situation she was in.
Emily made her voice sound stern. "Arlene, you tried to kill Gabby and me once by running us off the road, but you didn't succeed. How do you think you're going to cover your tracks now? Helen's Tahoe is in your shed. Stephen is here in town. He won't rest now that he's found his son. You have nowhere to run this time."
"I told you before, Stevie is my son!" Arlene took a deep breath. The eerie smile was back. "You see, I didn't want to have to hurt anyone. Helen had been acting funny on our last run together, so I decided to follow her. I heard her making that appointment with Jim. I made sure to get there first. I didn't plan to kill him, but I had to make him see reason. The big oaf thought he could overpower me and drag me to the police, but I'm stronger than I look. We struggled, and I managed to get him with my pepper spray. I hit him in the back of the head with a hammer I keep in my bag for driving real estate signs into the ground. When he was knocked unconscious, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to get rid of him once and for all. I waited for Helen and used the pepper spray on her too. From there it was easy to bring both her and her vehicle back here. I've been letting Stevie hang out with his new friends so much, he never suspected a thing."
"Why didn't you kill Helen then?" Emily asked. Helen's grip on the back of her shirt was now choking her.
Arlene actually looked sad for a moment. "Helen is the one person who has truly taken the time to get to know me. I've had to keep us moving a lot so Jim couldn't find us. I know it was hard on Stevie, but Jim always seemed to be too close for comfort. I had hoped that finally hiding in plain sight would do the trick. It's been just Stevie and I for so long. But now that he's older and wants to spend time with his own friends, it was nice to have someone to talk to. I didn't want to hurt Helen. I've laid a careful trail for the police to follow. They already believe Helen is the murderer. I had hoped to disappear and leave it at that, but with Stephen in town, I'm out of time. The plans have to change."
Murder Is Our Mascot Page 18