Saving Grace (Madison Falls)

by Lesley Ann McDaniel

  Her eyes opened wide. Kirk had killed Julie? All this time she had known he was dangerous, but the realization that he had committed murder—committed the murder—filled her with renewed horror.

  Something prodded at her to focus—to remember the words of that young man. She honed in her thoughts with laser-sharp clarity.

  All we have to do is ask, Lord, and You’ll lead us.

  That was it. Ask. She’d asked for help that awful night in the alley and she’d survived. Was that God?

  With no time to debate or overanalyze, she lowered her head and centered her thinking.

  Help me, God. Help me now. Please.

  Her head snapped up. Without thinking, she reached over and grabbed the steering wheel, cranking it to the left as far as it would turn.

  “Hey, what the…?” Clearly caught off his guard, Kirk released the wheel, as the car reeled out of control.

  Grace held fast, and the vehicle spun like a top, veering off the road and careening down the embankment. An amazing calmness caressed her spirit as they hurdled downward. Down—she remembered without emotion—toward the river.

  With a deafening crack, the car came to an abrupt halt, giving her a sickening re-enactment of her earlier encounter with the dashboard. This time though, there were no stars. Just an awareness of the stillness surrounding her.

  Pulling herself upright, her attention turned instantly to Kirk. He was hunched forward in an unnaturally motionless pose, his head draped across the top of the steering wheel and his arms flung over the dash. She stared, adrenaline filling her like helium in a birthday balloon. Soon she noticed a glistening in the moonlight—a flow of thick, dark liquid streaming down the side of his face. Blood.

  The sound of rushing water caught her attention and she looked toward the windshield. The car sat at a severe angle, its front end considerably lower than its rear. A tall object directly in front of her blocked her view. A tree. She could barely make out what remained of the front end of her car, smashed against the evergreen like a soda can. She squinted. To her horror, the rushing river ran several yards below their stopping place, at the bottom of the abrupt drop-off on which they were perched.

  The realization that the tree had saved her from making a rapid and decidedly uninspiring visit to the falls just a few miles downriver all but paralyzed her.

  Hysteria seized her mind. She had to get out of the car. Turning hastily to free herself, she felt the car shift. She froze.

  Slowly, warily, she reached for her seatbelt and pulled up the latch. She turned a careful head toward Kirk, certain that at any second he’d spring to life like the killer in a bad horror movie. Reaching behind her, she felt for the passenger door handle, hoping against hope that it would choose this moment to tend not to stick. No such luck. She let out an unintentional sob. The only way out of the car was the driver’s side.

  Taking in a lungful of air that would have sustained her best money note, she pulled her feet up under her, then reached behind Kirk’s hunched form. Using extra care not to touch him, she carefully stretched one arm toward the door handle, bracing the other hand on the back of the seat. With all her strength, she pulled the latch as she gave the door a shove. It swung open, creating a terrifying momentum that pulled the car forward. Flailing and letting out a small cry, she inadvertently grabbed a hold of Kirk’s shoulder.

  He moved, not of his own volition, but with the thrust of the car. Grace released her grasp of his shoulder, firming her grip on the edge of his seat until the car was once again still. She let out a long breath, folding further into her hunched position behind his unmoving form.

  She prayed again. Please just get me safely out of this car. This was no time to lose control. She had to focus. She pulled her body fully behind Kirk, trying to make herself as small as possible, but rubbing against him nonetheless. No response. She tried not to notice that he didn’t appear to be breathing. Those thoughts could wait for later.

  With all the care she could muster, she swung first one careful foot, then the other onto the steep spongy ground. The sound of rushing water reaffirmed her desire to get out of the car before it shifted further.

  Pulling herself to a tenuous standing position, she held onto the side of the car until she was certain of her footing. Her breath wavered. She was out.

  A glance back reassured her that Kirk hadn’t budged. There was no time to waste. She looked upward, unable to see the summit of the gully she was in. She had no concept of how far they’d fallen. Using her hands for added support, she pulled herself up the crisscross of tree limbs that swathed the earthen wall. She winced as the cold mossy ground both scraped and soothed her burned palm. She had to keep climbing.

  Hoisting herself upward, she gasped for breath. Her arms ached, but adrenaline propelled her on, until at last she reached up and felt a ridge. She put her forehead to the earth for a moment, giving silent thanks.

  Just as she pulled whatever energy she had in her together to hoist her body onto blessed level ground, someone grabbed her wrist from above. She gasped hard, tipping back her head. Her feet slipped out from under her and she started to fall, but the strong hands that now gripped both her arms held tightly enough to prevent it. A scream formed in her throat with no breath to support it.

  “Grace!”

  A deep voice pierced the night. Grace fought to get a toehold as she whimpered in recognition.

  “I’ve got you. Hold on!” Sam firmed his grip, pulling her upward until one arm slid around her back. She felt her body go limp as he pulled her over the crest of the rock face.

  Everything went black as he scooped her up and she wilted into his arms.

  Chapter 40

  “That’s some story.” Sam cast Grace a sympathetic look as he leaned his elbows on his knees. The metal chair creaked under his shifting weight, sending a reverberation through the otherwise quiet office. “Sorry it had to end the way it did.”

  She tipped up a melancholy smile. “Tragic operas generally end with a death. Only it’s usually the diva who succumbs.”

  He gave her a consoling wink. “Good thing we’re not in an opera.”

  She smiled, weary from spending the last two hours answering the sheriff’s questions. He’d been so kind, nothing at all like the big city detectives she’d dealt with in the past.

  Her clothes still reeked of smoke, and her skin felt greasy. Without thinking, she reached her gauze-covered hand to her face, wincing as pain shot up her arm.

  Sam looked concerned. “You sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?”

  “It’s not a serious burn.” She raised her hand. “You must have been a boy scout.”

  He nodded sagely. “I’ve built a campfire or two in my day.”

  The door eased open and Sheriff Drew walked in, rubbing his temple. “There’s news, Miss Addison.” He stopped, catching himself. “I mean, Miss Fontaine. My boys pulled your car out of the river. It’s a good thing you got out when you did, because it was completely submerged. Would have been darn near impossible to fight your way to shore against that current, especially at night.”

  Grace’s stomach jolted. She gave Sam a pained glance.

  As if reading her thoughts, he spoke up. “What about Kirk? Did they find him?”

  Sheriff Drew stroked his chin, his eyes sorrowful. “Oh, they found the body, alright. Didn’t look too pretty after a few hours in the water.”

  A surge of nausea pressed at her gut. What an awful way to go. Then a horrible thought made the queasiness worse. “You won’t need me to…identify him?”

  He shook his head, his eyes rimmed with sympathy. “He matches your description right down to the diamond stud. I don’t see any reason to put you through that.”

  Sam reached over to give her arm a reassuring squeeze, and she returned a weary smile.

  The sheriff took his jacket from a hook on the wall. “Now why don’t you go home and see if you can get some rest. There’ll be plenty of time for questions in the ligh
t of day.” He peered out his office window as he slipped his arm into the jacket sleeve. “Which will be in about three hours if I don’t miss my guess.”

  Sam’s chair scraped against the cracked linoleum. “Come on.” He took her elbow. “I’ll drive you home.”

  “You know,” she said, pulling herself onto still-unsteady legs. “I could really use the walk.”

  He tipped her a sideways glance. “You sure?”

  She nodded. It had been one thing allowing him to drive her back to town earlier. Now that she had her wits about her she was a little afraid of the vulnerability she’d feel alone in his truck with him.

  A few minutes later, Grace wrapped her arms around her middle to stave off the night chill. Sam removed his Levi’s Trucker jacket and placed it over her shoulders. Too exhausted to refuse, she slid her arms into the warm sleeves.

  “That Kirk was some character,” he said as they started up the sidewalk.

  “You could say that.” She fell into pace next to him.

  “I still can’t believe he threatened you with a switchblade. Where did he think he was going, to a rumble?”

  Grace shrugged. “When you’re a Jet, you’re a Jet all the way.”

  He tipped an ear to his shoulder. “I’m guessing you weren’t a part of his gang?”

  She angled a sideways smile. “Very funny.”

  “I try.” His tone turned somber. “At least now I understand why you said you wouldn’t be hanging around Madison Falls.”

  Her face fell slightly. She had said that.

  When she didn’t respond, he continued. “You must be anxious to get home to see your friends.”

  “Yes. Well. I don’t have that many friends.” She considered. “Or any, actually.”

  He shoved his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. “Except Sinclair, of course.”

  “Right. Of course. Except Devon.”

  His words seemed calculated. “So, you want to go back.”

  “Of course I do. It’s all I’ve wanted since I got here.”

  “And I guess you’d have no reason to stay.”

  She tilted him a glance. What was he getting at? “No reason at all.”

  He nodded, his eyes set on the dark sidewalk ahead. “So, you think you’ll go back with Sinclair in the morning?”

  Her tired nerves pinched. Would she? She looked at her watch. “He’ll be leaving in a few hours.” Anxiety fluttered in her stomach. “I can’t even think after what just happened to me.”

  “Right. Sorry.” They kept walking. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. You must have been terrified.”

  How could she describe it? “It was like being in a Die Hard movie, only John McClane stood me up.”

  His stance turned rigid. “I should have gotten there sooner.”

  “Gotten there sooner?” A niggling question worked its way to the surface. “How did you even know where to look for me?”

  They stopped on the corner of Pine View and Main. “After I talked to my dad, I realized I’d left my guitar at the theatre. On the way back, I noticed your car wasn’t in your driveway.”

  She turned to him in mock dismay. “Don’t tell me you were spying on me.”

  “Not spying.” He held up a hand in defense. “Just concerned that you’d gotten home safely. Anyway,” they started across Main. “It was right about then that I heard the sirens.”

  She shuddered, the terror returning in spite of her attempts to suppress it.

  “Don’t tell the sheriff, but I made it from that corner to this one in record time.”

  “Oh?” Her eyes sharpened on his moonlit face.

  “Andretti would have been jealous.” He tossed her a soft look as they reached the curb. “From this vantage point…” He turned, nodding toward the theatre. “I could see the flames through the windows.”

  He didn’t look at her, but she could see his eyes glistening under the streetlamp.

  “It had only been, what, fifteen minutes since I’d left you there.” A tremor crept into his voice. “I thought my heart was going to beat a hole in my chest.”

  She felt a little breathless. “My, that’s a vivid image.”

  “Yeah.” He turned, and they started to walk again. “Anyway, I saw your car was gone from where you’d been parked. I was so relieved.”

  “Relieved?” Warmth wafted through her. “Really?”

  “Of course.” He eyed her tenderly. “Now, if I had known what was really going on…”

  “How could you possibly have known?”

  “I don’t know.” He held a beat. “Bruce Willis would have known.”

  “True.” She tipped a smile. “So, what happened then?”

  “I got out of my truck and ran over there.” He pointed back with his thumb.” Nancy ran up to me in a panic and asked who the man was that you’d left with.”

  She jolted. “She saw?”

  He blinked a nod. “Good thing too. I figured it must have been Sinclair but that just didn’t make sense.”

  “So, you followed us.” A warmth radiated from her chest in spite of the night chill. “But how did you know where my car went down?”

  “I didn’t at first. I must have driven past right after it happened. When you weren’t parked at the falls, I started back. I was praying all the way that you were safe, and I don’t know. Something just told me to stop when I did. I heard a noise and when I walked over to the edge I looked down and saw your hands.” He paused, softening. “Sorry if I scared you.”

  She fought back a lump in her throat. “You have a way of doing that, you know.”

  “I could wear a collar with a bell on it.”

  She chuckled, relieved that he’d broken the seriousness of the moment. She looked at the street ahead, then stopped in her tracks and held up her unbandaged hand. “Wait a minute. Are you walking me home?”

  “You noticed.”

  “But isn’t your truck back there—in front of the sheriff’s office?”

  He gave a slow nod.

  “You mean you’re going to walk me home, walk back downtown, then drive home right past my house? What’s the point of that?”

  He looked at her sideways. “I guess I just feel sorry for you because you don’t have any friends.”

  A sardonic smirk found her face as they started walking again. “Thanks a lot.” Her voice turned quiet. “I’m really sorry Sam, but the painting burned. I saw it.”

  He shook his head. “I figured. It’s not your fault.”

  “It was my fault for not insuring it.” A thought struck her. “Maybe your business insurance…”

  He shook his head. “My dad has no use for insurance.” He held up a hand toward her. “I told him we needed full coverage, but our policy is pretty bare bones. We’ll be lucky if it pays ten percent of the value of what was lost.”

  “Oh.” Her heart sank. “So, what are you going to do?”

  “It looks like we’re at Langley’s mercy again. That is if I haven’t totally alienated his yes-man.”

  “You mean Devon? I could talk to him for you.”

  His face turned somber. “If I had my way, you’d never talk to that guy again.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

  “Since you brought it up.” He stopped, facing her full-on. “Grace, I just wish you’d reconsider your involvement with him before you get hurt.”

  “I don’t want to talk about Devon.” She looked away. “Whatever he did to you—”

  “Not to me,” he said. “To Colleen.”

  The fatigue jolted from her body. “Colleen?”

  He paused, a cavalcade of emotions plying for top billing across his forehead.

  Her heart warned her not to ask. “What did he do?”

  “What didn’t he do?” Emotion welled up in his voice. “Swept her off her feet, lavished her with gifts. Promised to take her ‘away from all this’.” He waved his arms, mocking the sentiment.

  Grace’s throat clenched in inc
redulity. “But, he wasn’t even in town all that long.”

  His whole face had turned stony. “A testament to his speed. The guy’d be a shoo-in at NASCAR.”

  “So…” Acid bubbled in her throat like a third grade science experiment. “What exactly happened?”

  “He wined and dined her to get to Dad. Along with all the fine cuisine, he fed her a convincing argument which she passed on to us. We never would have taken Langley’s offer seriously if she hadn’t been so persuasive on that Casanova’s behalf.”

  “But, you said she was deadset against it.”

  “She is—now. Funny how much clearer things are by the light of day.”

  “Meaning?”

  “As soon as Devon had Dad on the hook, Colleen apparently didn’t look so enticing. See,” he turned to her, “my sister’s an old fashioned girl and Devon is, like I said, speedy. Why waste time hanging with the pit crew when there are so many pretty little cars willing to go for a spin?”

  Her mouth contorted. What a cute analogy. “But your dad could have just dropped the deal. He wasn’t committed.”

  “No, but by that time he’d pinned all his hopes on it. Colleen was so humiliated. We couldn’t burden Dad with the sordid details.”

  “Oh.” Poor Colleen.

  “So, you see why it’s hard to stand back and watch someone I…” His voice was soft and disarmingly intimate. “To watch you get mixed up with him.”

  Her heart suddenly cooled. What concern was it of his when he had a girlfriend who was probably lying awake at this very moment wondering where he was? She clenched her jaw. “Thanks for your concern but it’s really none of your business.”

  “It is my business because I care about you.”

  She tried to ignore her pounding heart. “Yeah, well maybe you should start caring a little more about your own life and leave me alone.” She increased her pace.

  He stepped up his own to keep up. “Why would you think I don’t care about my own life?”

  “Well for starters…” She wanted to scold him for betraying his girlfriend, but the words wouldn’t come. “There’s your music. You’re keeping your gift hidden. ‘Under a bushel’—isn’t that the term?”