A grunt. “By the time they get here the bitch could be half way to California.”
“Not likely. She’s on foot. Probably doesn’t have much cash. She’s still around here. The dogs will find her.”
“Wanna bet?”
“You’re on. Let’s go sit in my unit. Freezin’ our butts off out here.”
Nan waited till she was certain they were gone before rising. The nutty scent of burnt tobacco hung in the damp air. Nan darted to the rear door of the stable.
Chapter 30
“Was Calder acting on your orders?” Runyan asked.
Stoneroad shot him angry look. “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I—or Nan, for that matter—want to harm Lydia or that other woman? The real killer is out there somewhere and you’re wasting time harassing us. I should sue…”
“You have to admit, Mr. Stoneroad,” Hetrick told him, “we have good reason to suspect you and Miss Calder.” He ticked them off on the fingers of one hand. “Lydia Brubaker has identified Miss Calder as the person who abducted her and Vickie Walker. Diane Wozniak told another person she planned on blackmailing you, though she didn’t disclose what she held over you. A vehicle similar to the Jeep you and Calder conveniently disposed of struck and killed Wozniak.”
They were in the parlor of the house. Runyan, Hetrick and the writer standing in the middle of the room, Mrs. Stoneroad sprawled on the sofa, a dazed expression on her face.
Stoneroad snorted. “This is absurd. It’s all conjecture.”
“Was it you or Calder who murdered Jason?” Runyan asked.
The question got Mrs. Stoneroad’s attention. She half-rose, staring at him, her eyes flashing.
Stoneroad’s face twisted with rage. He turned his head to peer at his wife. She waved a hand at him. “Let it go, Clay. It’s not worth a response.” Runyan had thought her heavily medicated and oblivious to their presence. Her comment embarrassed him. Stoneroad confronted him, hands clenched at his sides. “You honestly think I’d have killed my stepson? Look at my wife. Can’t you see what it’s done to her? I love her. I wouldn’t…”
“We’ve discovered your taste for young women,” Hetrick interceded to rescue Runyan. “We know what happened in Philadelphia—the girl in your class. Were you jealous of Jason’s relationship with Lydia? We know you made a pass at her.”
“What? Is that what she says? All I did was try to comfort the girl when I saw she was distraught. I’m not some dirty old man.”
“Lydia Brubaker is a good-looking young woman,” Runyan put in. “You wouldn’t be the first man to be tempted by a pretty face. Maybe you’d tired of Calder and wanted something fresh.”
Stoneroad blanched. “You son-of-a-bitch. I never touched Lydia and Nan is my secretary, not my whore. I won’t have you—”
They were interrupted then by a trooper who told them the dogs had arrived.
“Thanks for jumping in. We’re getting pretty close to the edge,” Runyan said as he and Hetrick followed the officer outside.
“You know as well as I do he’s guilty.”
“Yeah. But a gut-feeling haint evidence.”
* * * *
The yammering of the hounds out in the yard set Jason’s dogs to barking. Nan, cowering in a stall with her horse, chewed a fingernail. They’re going to find me. Those dogs will pick up my scent and lead the cops in here. Oh, Jesus. What am I going to do? She choked back tears, wiped a dirty hand across her face. Over the good warm odor of the horses and fresh hay she smelled the foul scent of her fear.
The harsh barking of the dogs grated on her senses, adding fuel to her dismay. Jason’s dogs were locked in a small tack room at one end of the stable. They leaped against the door, frustrated in their desire to join with the other hounds, the thuds resounding like the uneven beat of a drum. The noise and the tension were giving Nan a headache. She clapped her hands over her ears and darted a glance in the direction of the tack room. She wanted to shout for them to shut up.
The dogs.
The thought struck her then. If she concealed herself in the tack room the cops might think their dogs were only reacting to those confined. It offered a chance. A slim one. But she could think of no other option.
* * * *
Stoneroad paced round the parlor, casting an occasional glance at Lillian. She’d barely moved since the police left. Her inhalations came in a sibilant whisper and her chest rose and fell in syncopation with her breathing. At least she was sleeping through this horrible mess. Oh, Nan. How could I have let this happen? If only she’d confided in me, we might have found some other solutions.
He peered again at Lillian. Jason. Damn you. How could you do this to your mother? To us? The lazy bastard. If he wanted more money, I’d have given it to him. Why did he have to take our secret to that blackmailing bitch?
And me? It was stupid. I let myself get carried away with that cunt Lydia. What was I thinking? Nan and Lillian—both of them devoted to me. What did I need with her? Even as he considered it, Stoneroad knew the answer. His recent failures with Nan. He’d thought to reassure himself. He’d thought another young woman would stimulate him, give back his virility.
The uproar of the dogs outside brought him back to the present.
Nan. She had to be hiding somewhere close. He wasn’t sure what he could do, but he had to help her.
As he moved toward the front door Stoneroad broke out in a cold sweat. He felt the onset of an asthma attack.
* * * *
Dragging their handler, the dogs swirled around to the rear of the stable, breath spilling like steam from their mouths, their stentorian barking shattering the still of the night. “They’re on her again,” the handler called back to Hetrick and Runyan who followed in their wake. “They lost her in the woods. Too many other smells. But they got her now.”
The handler opened the gate, and his dogs swept into the paddock, going directly to the bales where Nan hid only moments before. The handler felt the ground. “Still warm. She was hidin’ here.” But the dogs were already pulling toward the stable door. Inside, Jason’s dogs responded to their clamor.
The handler glanced back at Runyan. “She armed?”
“We believe she has a knife of some kind.”
“I can’t afford to let my dogs get hurt.”
Runyan drew his Glock and reached for the latch. “We’ll go first.”
* * * *
The dogs closed around her, sniffing at her clothing and growling low in their throats. Nan stiffened, holding her breath. She’d been around these dogs ever since Jason convinced Clay to buy them. “Living out here in the country mother and Nan deserve some security,” he’d said. “They’ll discourage people from invading your privacy, too.” The argument made sense to him and Clay had accepted the idea. Nan was used to the dogs, though, at first, she’d feared them. They were big and unfriendly. In time they’d come to recognize her and tolerated her presence. She’d been the one to feed and water them since they’d disposed of Jason. Why were they acting so strange now? Could it be because they’d been penned up too long? The noise of the other dogs? Did she smell different to them now? Of course. That must be it. Perspiration, mud, the smell of fear—these tainted the odor they normally associated with her. Tentatively, Nan stretched out a hand to pat the head of Roscoe, the largest of the pack.
Roscoe bared his teeth, a growl emanating from deep in his throat. Shylock and Castor surrounded her, snarling in unison with Roscoe.
Trembling, though she couldn’t be certain if it were the result of the damp pervading the barn or fear, Nan laid a hand on Roscoe’s blocky head and spoke his name. The dog tilted his head, one dark eye peering up at her.
Then, without warning, Roscoe reared up and clamped his teeth around her wrist. Nan screamed as she felt his fangs penetrate her flesh and heard the snap of bone. Shylock lunged and nipped at her calf. Castor threw himself against her, his weight propelling her back against the stanchions. Nan screamed again.
* * * *
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“In there,” Hetrick said, pointing to the tack room. He wrenched open the door as Runyan stepped to his side, weapon held in readiness. The handler stayed back, tugging on the leads of his charges to prevent them from lunging into the room. “My God,” Hetrick muttered.
The dogs had Nan Calder down on the floor. She’d rolled into a fetal position, arms clamped over her face and head, whimpering as the animals snapped at exposed extremities. The opening of the door now distracted them from their prey. They moved as one toward the new intruders.
Runyan fired a shot in the air. The dogs halted, regarding him, slavering and showing their teeth. Their eyes gleamed in the dim light. The sergeant took aim at the lead dog, but Roscoe didn’t move, his attention fixed on Hetrick, who’d seized Nan Calder by one leg and begun to drag her out of the room. Roscoe braced himself, preparing to lunge.
Runyan slammed the door shut and braced himself against it as soon as Hetrick had Nan out of the room. The door trembled as the big dog threw itself against it. A padlock hung in the hasp. Runyan snapped it shut, hoping the barrier would hold.
“Is she alive?” he asked, turning his attention to Hetrick.
“Yes. But she’s pretty badly torn up.”
“Nan,” a quavering voice said from behind him.
Stoneroad staggered toward them, breath coming in wheezes and hisses. His face contorted and pale. He clutched at his chest, moaned, and stumbled to his knees.
* * * *
“I’ve done what I can,” Dr. Furman said, removing latex gloves as he came out of his surgery. “She needs more help. I’m sending her up to Hershey. Ambulance is on the way.” There was blood and other stains on his scrubs.
Doc Furman had had a busier than normal day at the Swatara Creek Clinic. Weariness shown in his eyes. Before Nan Calder and Clay Stoneroad were brought in after a full day of normal visitations, he and his nurse had already stitched up Jimmy Finkbine and examined Lydia Brubaker and Vickie Walker. Jimmy and Lydia—who had suffered a mild concussion along with dehydration—had been sent home. Vickie had also been dispatched to Hershey Medical Center for further treatment and observation.
“Any chance we might talk to her before she’s moved?” Hetrick asked.
Doc wiped his hands, glancing from one man to the other. “Maybe one of you—briefly.”
Hetrick peered at Runyan. “You saved her,” the other man said. “She might be inclined to talk to you.” Then he added, “What about Stoneroad?”
“He’s resting. Asthma attack aggravated by stress. You can talk to him later.”
Runyan nodded and resumed his seat on one of the hard waiting room chairs as Sticks followed Furman back to where the nurse waited with Nan Calder.
* * * *
Nan raised her eyes, her gaze following him as he entered the room and came up to the gurney where she lay. “Clay?” she said through parched lips.
“He’ll be fine,” Hetrick told her. “He’s had an asthma attack. He’s resting now. Doc’s with him. How are you feeling?”
She looked small and vulnerable in a too-large gown that exposed one white shoulder. Both arms and the side of her neck were swathed in bandages. There were probably more on other parts of her body which was covered by a sheet Nan drew up now over her breasts.
“Like a scrap of meat ravaged by dogs.” She made a weak attempt at a grin. “You and that other cop saved me.” A tear rolled down her cheek. She flicked it away with a finger of one hand. “Maybe you should have let them finish the job.”
“Couldn’t do that.”
She looked away from him.
“Are you up to a couple questions?”
Nan glanced at the nurse who stood by. “Does she have to be here?”
“Not if you’d rather we speak in confidence.”
“I’ll see if Doc needs me to do something,” the nurse said.
Chapter 31
“She’s absolved you of all blame,” Hetrick said.
Stoneroad didn’t reply. His gaze centered on some distant point between Hetrick and Runyan, he slumped in an armchair, fingers of one hand plucking at the fabric of his trousers. Conceding to his worry about his wife being alone, they’d brought him back to the farm. Lillian remained in the same semi-comatose condition on the sofa.
“Not that we believe it,” Runyan said.
Lost in his own thoughts, Stoneroad muttered, “I need to hire someone to stay with Lillian. I don’t want Nan to be alone at the hospital. She needs to know I love her—despite what she’s done.”
“You’re saying she acted alone?”
He declined to answer, asking a question of his own. “Those dogs, those damned dogs—why did they attack her?”
Runyan shrugged. “Penned up for so long. Agitated by the others. Maybe she’d mistreated them in the past.”
Stoneroad glowered at him. “Never. She took care of them after Jason…”
“If Jason had been the only one she killed, we might buy her story,” Hetrick said. “Jealousy over Lydia’s relationship with him. But there’s more to it, isn’t there? That wouldn’t explain Wozniak or the attempts on the lives of Vickie Wagner and Lydia. It’s time you come clean, sir. Don’t let this poor deluded girl take the fall for everything.”
Stoneroad raised his head and peered at Hetrick. “It wasn’t her fault. She wanted to protect us.”
“You and her?”
“All of us—me, Lillian, herself.”
Runyan glanced at the woman on the sofa. “Mrs. Stoneroad. What’s she got to do with it?”
Stoneroad sighed and spread his arms in a gesture of helplessness. “The responsibility falls on all of us, though I didn’t know everything until this morning.” He turned his gaze on his wife for a moment. “It’s been hardest on Lillian. I’m not sure exactly when she knew Nan had killed Jason. It was easier for her to believe Lydia had done it. How could she accept the sacrifice of her son being necessary to our survival?”
“You and your mistress,” Runyan said.
Stoneroad shook his head. Tears spilled down his cheeks. “All of us.”
Runyan scrunched up his forehead. “I don’t understand.”
“Lillian and Nan are both my wives.”
“This was Wozniak’s incentive for blackmail?” Hetrick put in.
The writer nodded.
“If the three of you conspired to commit bigamy it was still only a misdemeanor of the second degree under Pennsylvania law—punishable by up to two years in jail and a maximum fine of five thousand dollars. Surely, not enough reason for murder.”
“Jason and Wozniak, they were working together. It wouldn’t have stopped with one demand for money. It would have gone on and on. If word got out, can you imagine what it would have done to my reputation? The embarrassment of the two women I love? Somehow, Nan found out what Jason was doing. She couldn’t believe he’d betrayed us. She couldn’t let him get away with it. She confronted him. They argued. She told me he attacked her. She acted in self-defense.”
Runyan scratched at his chin. “Not sure I believe that. Seems premeditated—the fact she’d stolen Lydia Brubaker’s gun and confronted the young man with it.”
“Believe what you like,” Stoneroad said, scrubbing at his eyes with his fists. “It was all his fault. There was no reason for him to resort to blackmail. How could he do that to his own mother?”
“You’d been supporting him in return for his silence?”
“From the beginning. The bastard had no cause for complaint. None of this would have happened if he hadn’t got greedy.”
* * * *
“Can you believe that guy?” Runyan asked as he drove Hetrick back to town. “He had to be more involved than he admits.”
“Calder did absolve him. The double marriage came as more of a surprise to me. I found it difficult to believe an educated person like Mrs. Stoneroad would have accepted sharing her husband with an attractive younger woman.”
Runyan chuckled. “I know how my wife would
react. But then you hear about the women in those Mormon cults out west…”
“Religion as an incentive is one thing. That wasn’t a factor in this case.”
“Yeah. It’s no surprise there are men who want more than one woman—though they don’t usually marry them. But women—I don’t see them as inclined to the idea of sharing.”
Stoneroad had told them he’d given Lillian a choice when he fell in love with Nan Calder—she could accept it or leave. “Thankfully, she accepted, which pleased me,” he said. “I convinced her I didn’t love her any less. I loved her more because she allowed me to love them both. Eventually Lillian and Nan came to love one another as much as I loved both of them. When people are tolerant of one another they are happy in a sense you can’t imagine.”
“I’m even more surprised Mrs. Stoneroad would accept the sacrifice of her son to keep the secret.” Runyan couldn’t imagine that much tolerance. “What about Jason? Surely, he wasn’t happy about the arrangement. I believe you’d said he’d been dating Calder earlier?”
Stoneroad nodded. “He actually introduced us. And, no. He wasn’t happy about our arrangement.” He sighed. “Maybe if he’d met Lydia earlier he wouldn’t have pulled the nonsense with that yellow journalist bitch.”
* * * *
Nan had been crying again. A nurse said she was sorry, but she couldn’t increase the pain medication. Despite the medication, Nan’s injuries did hurt. But they weren’t the reason for her tears.
One wrist, the uninjured one, was handcuffed to the bed railing. A State Trooper sat outside the door to her room, drinking coffee from a paper cup and reading a newspaper. Runyan had told her he’d return later that evening with a magistrate and she’d be charged. She’d already confessed but the sergeant told her they’d want to record since she wasn’t capable of writing a statement because of her injuries. He said he’d talked to Clay and the writer intended on hiring a lawyer to represent her. The lawyer might be coming tonight. Once she was able, they’d transfer her to the county prison. Nan didn’t care about any of this.
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