A dawning realization hit her. “You’ve been trying to kill me. It was you yesterday with that gun trying to shoot out our tire.”
“Yes, but I can’t take credit for all the other stuff. I suspect Stan or Delmar set the fire and shot the arrow at you.”
“And the pot rack?”
He shook his head. “Not me. I thought it was an accident just like you did.”
“Was it you who pushed me into the river?”
He frowned. “I had to. Don’t you see? If you would have just given in and left town, I wouldn’t have had to keep escalating things. I really didn’t want to kill you. I had no idea you’d hit your head. And shooting the car? I just meant to scare you.”
For some crazy reason she believed him. “But now? Why the gun? You said you’re not really a killer.” She reached out her hand. “Give me the gun, Ralph, and I won’t tell anyone about this. Or press charges against you.”
“No...maybe...” His eyes wavered for a moment. “I don’t know. I need time to think. Time to figure out what to do. I can’t let you go until I do.”
“Archer’s right outside, and he’ll be in here soon,” she said, hoping it was the truth.
Ralph’s gaze shot around the room then landed on the door. “C’mon. We’re going.”
“You can’t possibly think Archer will let you take me with him.”
He shoved her toward the door. She lowered her shoulder and barreled into him. He wobbled. His arm shot out, knocking a painting on the floor. She took advantage of his imbalance to charge at him again.
He managed to step back and she crashed into the chair, sending it flying before she landed hard on her shoulder. She rolled and found him standing over her with the gun.
“Try that again or cry out, and I’ll kill Birdie.”
The anger radiating from his eyes said he meant it and filled her with terror unlike she’d ever felt before, so she got up and they walked to the door.
“We’ll go the minute Archer turns his back. Down the steps and behind the car. Then get in the backseat and lie down.” He jabbed her with the gun. “You got it?”
“Yes.”
Ralph looked out the window. “Go! Now.”
They charged out the door and down the stairs. She saw Archer, Birdie and Darcie, but Birdie was pointing at an old ship’s anchor she’d bought at an auction and was likely telling them how she acquired it, so they missed seeing her or Ralph.
Emily resisted ducking behind the car, her focus on Archer, willing him to turn.
Ralph pushed her down, and with a boot to her chest, he held her there.
She stared at his boot. It was then that she remembered he’d liked the hikers that the club bought and had purchased a pair himself. He really was the suspect they were seeking, right here under their noses the whole entire time. Close, so close.
How had she forgotten the boots? How?
Her error might very well cost her life.
* * *
Archer tried to listen to Birdie’s story about the anchor and appreciate the fact that she was once again in the present, but as he stared at the large anchor, his mind fully focused on his conversation with Emily. He couldn’t believe he’d bared his feelings and she’d turned him down.
Point-blank, she didn’t want a relationship with him. Her rejection crushed his heart as he’d known it would if he’d opened up to her. He’d seen the signs all along. Knew the potential was there because of her past, but he’d failed to heed his own common sense.
Never get involved. He knew that. Lived that.
Instead of paying attention to his past, he’d listened to Darcie of all people. A woman who’d found her true love and thought everyone could bask in that kind of happiness. Not him. Life had repeatedly told him that, and he’d finally gotten it through his thick head.
The only bright point was that his money had no importance to Emily. A meaningless victory.
His phone rang and he was grateful for the distraction. He spotted Detective Carothers’s name on the screen and answered.
“We processed Fannon’s boots,” Carothers said. “They’re not a match.”
“Not a match?” Archer exclaimed, drawing Darcie’s and Birdie’s attention. “That’s impossible. Maybe he has another pair.”
“We searched his house. If he has a second pair, he’s discarded them. Plus he has an alibi for the time and it checks out.”
“Okay, so Lance Taylor, then.”
“Could be, I suppose,” the detective said, “but I just don’t see him resorting to firing at Emily just so he could own the B and B.”
“Maybe his finances are a mess and owning the B and B somehow helps him fix it.”
“Now you’re just reaching for anything.”
Archer hissed out a breath, trying to rein in his anger and frustration. “Then who in the world is doing this?”
“I don’t know, man, but our soil test was a bust, too. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
He kneaded tight muscles in his neck. “So where do we go from here?”
“I still like Fallon for the fire. With boot prints not matching, I gotta figure he’s working with someone else so I’m putting pressure on him, hope he’ll crack and give up his partner. If he doesn’t give me anything, I’ll start with the rest of the Oregon Free members who own the Nike boots. Odds are it’s one of them.”
“Keep me updated.” He disconnected his call and shoved his phone in his pocket.
“Uh-oh,” Birdie said as she stepped over to him. “What’s wrong?”
“Do you know about the boot prints we lifted at the river?”
She nodded. “Nikes I think you said.”
“We thought that Stan Fannon had made the prints, but turns out the soles on his boots don’t match the cast. So now we have to start over to figure out who pushed Emily.”
“Maybe if you show me a picture of the boots I can help narrow down your search.”
Archer doubted she could help, but he would try anything right now. He loaded the picture on his phone, then held it out for her.
She took a good look, then peered at Archer. “Oh, those boots. I guess there’s something special about them. I remember when Ralph got a pair. It was like he was—”
“Wait,” Archer said. “Ralph owns these boots? Are you sure?”
“Yes. Emily’s group got them at a discount, and Ralph got in on the deal.”
Archer shot a look at Darcie. “Ralph was at the house. He just left. Stay with Birdie.”
He charged across the lot and up the stairs. The front door was open, and a sick feeling oozed through his stomach. He raced to the office and came to a screeching stop. The chair was turned over. The picture on the floor. A clear sign of a struggle.
Emily was missing.
Had Ralph taken her?
Archer bolted through the house, searching each room and calling out for her. Kitchen. Second floor. Third floor. Back down again.
Panic reared up and sat on Archer’s chest, making it hard to breathe. “Calm down and think, man, think.”
He had to find out where Ralph lived or where he might take Emily. He ran to the door and called out to Birdie and Darcie to join him in the office.
Archer raced in there, squatted by a metal cabinet and pawed through folders, looking for Ralph’s personnel file. He wasn’t surprised not to find one in such a small business. He heard footsteps at the doorway. Jumped to his feet and ran to the door.
“Emily,” he yelled, but saw it was Darcie and Birdie.
“Emily’s missing,” he told Birdie. “I think Ralph took her somewhere. Do you know his address?”
She shook her head. “Not off the top of my head. It should be in—” Her eyes lit on something on the desk, and she pushed pas
t him into the room. She tapped a worn leather satchel sitting on the desk. “Belongs to Ralph. He’s never without it.”
“Well, he is now.” Archer ripped the bag open and drew out a sheaf of papers. In the middle of the pile, he spotted an official document, and he shot a look at Birdie. “You signed over power of attorney to Ralph?”
“No,” she said.
He held out the document that not only gave Ralph power of attorney, but it also revoked an earlier one given to Emily. “Is this your signature?”
Birdie studied the paper for a long moment.
“Yes,” she whispered. “He must have gotten me to sign at a bad moment. The witnesses are suppliers I trusted.”
Archer’s gut cramped hard. “So Ralph has ulterior motives and he has Emily. We need to find him now.”
* * *
The cabin belonging to Ralph’s grandfather was nothing more than a shack ready to crumble into the earth below tall pines. Emily had tried every argument she could think of to get Ralph to let her go, but when he tied her to the chair with smelly old ropes, she started to panic.
“Birdie needs me, Ralph. The Alzheimer’s is taking a toll. Don’t you care about her at all?”
“She doesn’t have Alzheimer’s,” he said, crossing the cracked floorboards and waving the gun at her. “The doctors are wrong. She has substance-induced persistent dementia. I gave it to her.”
“You what?” She stared at him openmouthed.
He grinned, but it was sick. “Months ago, I went up to the room Birdie is staying in to try to repair a leak that Birdie couldn’t afford to get fixed. You know I’m a history buff, right? Well, I recognized the wallpaper in that room. It was designed by William Morris.”
“And that’s significant, why?”
“Morris included copper arsenate in the manufacture of his paper. When it becomes damp, it releases toxic fumes and people exposed to the fumes can develop toxic encephalopathy.”
“Which is what exactly?”
He sighed as if she should understand. “It’s a neurologic disorder caused by exposure to toxic substance. It mimics Alzheimer’s symptoms.”
“And you got Birdie to move to that room, but why?”
“Lance Taylor had just offered a crazy sum to buy the place. Of course, Birdie said no, but you know what?” He shook his head in disgust. “I worked my tail off for Birdie, and the place was going to go belly-up. So why not sell it? I figured if I got Birdie to move into the room, and she lost her mental capacities, I could get her to sign over her power of attorney. Then I could sell the B and B to Lance and be set for life. So, I told Birdie to help alleviate financial difficulties that if she moved to the third floor, I could rent out her bedroom, too.”
“And of course she did because she was desperate to see the business succeed.” Emily’s heart ached for her dear aunt being taken advantage of like this. “That was so low, Ralph. Lower than low. Preying on someone who paid your salary and treated you as family.”
“Ah, but I’m not family, am I?” He closed the distance and pressed the gun against her heart. “You are, and even though you didn’t care enough to stay and run the inn with Birdie, you’d inherit it while I slaved away day and night. I deserve to be compensated. But then you came home and ruined everything.” He sneered at her, his lip curling up, and hatred radiated from his body.
Reality sank in.
If he poisoned Birdie in such a callous way, then there was no way he was going to let her live. Which left her with only one option.
She had to find a way to escape.
NINETEEN
Archer heard a car zooming up the driveway and went to the door. He immediately recognized Jake’s SUV and Lance Taylor riding in the passenger seat. Jake slammed on the brakes, fishtailing to a stop. He jumped out and stormed around the car to jerk Taylor out.
Archer jogged down the steps. Birdie and Darcie followed.
Jake gave Taylor a shove. “Go ahead and tell him.”
Taylor fired a testy look at Jake, but said, “I’ve got this big development deal in the works. I was with the developer at that June meeting I told you about. I figured you’d get curious about the meeting, check it out and find out he’s planning a megaresort in this area. I’ve been quietly buying up land so I can resell it to him and make a lot of money on this deal. You asking for my alibi risked everything.”
“Let me guess,” Archer said. “Buying Birdie’s property and reselling it is part of the deal.”
“Yeah, and don’t look at me like that. It’s a legit move and I was going to give her a fair price.”
Jake scowled. “Legit but underhanded.”
“So why tell us about this now?” Archer asked.
“Your buddy here comes storming in the office.” Taylor eyed Jake. “Claimed he had enough evidence to arrest me for attempted murder. I’m not going to jail for something I didn’t do. So I had to tell him.”
Archer gave Jake a look of thanks, then stared at Taylor, weighing, assessing.
He didn’t squirm. Didn’t back down. Didn’t fidget. He was telling the truth.
Fat lot of good it did Archer. “That all you have to say? Because if it is, it wasn’t worth the trip.”
He looked up at Birdie. “You should know that Ralph is trying to sell the inn out from under you.”
Birdie gaped at him, but Archer knew they were finally getting to the heart of the investigation. “Tell me everything you know about it.”
“I made it a point to stop by here often. Just to keep raising my price and see if Birdie would bite.” He shook his head, looked at Birdie. “You’re a stubborn old girl.”
“Not hard to be stubborn with the likes of you.” She jutted out her chin.
“Continue,” Archer said to Taylor to keep them moving forward.
“Last visit, Birdie stepped out of the room to get something and Ralph said he could make sure that Birdie sold. I asked him how, but he wouldn’t talk about it where Birdie might overhear. I told him we could meet at my office. He said no. It’s a small town and word would get around. So we arranged to meet at his grandfather’s old cabin.” Taylor laughed and shook his head. “The guy was all cloak-and-dagger when we could’ve met pretty much anywhere out of town.”
At the mention of the cabin, Archer’s interest picked up, but he wanted Taylor to finish the story before he started asking questions.
“Go on,” Archer said.
“So we meet and Ralph tells me not to worry. He has everything under control. Birdie signed over her power of attorney and he was authorized to sell the place.” Taylor’s eyes narrowed. “But then Emily arrived and things changed. Ralph was furious, but he assured me she wouldn’t be a problem. He’d make sure she went back to Portland, and Birdie’s would be mine in plenty of time.”
“Only one way Ralph could get Emily to go back to Portland,” Jake said.
“Force her to go,” Archer added, then glared at Taylor. “So this cabin where you met Ralph. Is it somewhere he might hold a hostage?”
“A hostage? For real?”
Jake jabbed Taylor in the arm. “Just answer the question.”
“Yeah, I suppose. It’s a falling-down old cabin that belonged to Ralph’s grandfather.”
“Can you tell me how to get there?”
“Sure, man. No problem.” Taylor rattled off instructions, about ten miles down the road.
Archer didn’t need to hear more, but held out his hand to Jake. “Your keys.”
Jake shook his head. “You’re too hyped up. I’ll drive.”
They charged toward the car.
Taylor cried out. “Hey, what about me?”
Archer hated leaving Taylor for Birdie and Darcie to deal with, but Archer had only one thing in mind. Emily’s rescue.
Ralph had tried to call Lance but struck out and had to leave a message, thus buying Emily time. He paced around the room, mumbling plans, then changing his mind and going in a different direction.
“No!” He stopped and slapped his palm against his forehead. “My satchel. I was so focused on you that I left it at the B and B.”
“Is that important?” she asked curiously.
“It has the power of attorney inside.” He cursed under his breath. “I’ll have to get it before I can make a sale to Lance. Hopefully everyone will be out looking for you, and I can slip in the back.”
“And me?”
“You? Hmm...what do I do with you? I can’t leave you here.” He started pacing again, then spun and stared at her. “The trunk. I can put you in the trunk of my car. If you call out or make any noise, I’ll make good on my promise to hurt Birdie.”
Okay, so he was going to take her outside. Good. She could surprise him and make a run for the woods. He’d still have the gun, but she had to hope when it came right down to it, he wasn’t a killer.
He untied her and gestured at the door. “C’mon. On your feet.”
She stood slowly and stepped across the room. He came up behind her and put the gun in her back. She opened the door, hoping, no praying, that Archer, Jake or anyone for that matter would be standing outside to help.
She found no one.
Tears pricked at the back of her eyes, but she wasn’t going to shed even one of them on Ralph. On the man she’d trusted for years. How could she and Birdie have been so blind?
He shoved her toward the car. She ran her gaze over the area. Found several tall trees where she could take cover. She remembered how stealthily Archer had moved through the woods after the accident. If she could make it safely into the woods, she could mimic Archer’s moves and hide from Ralph.
They reached the trunk.
He dug keys from his pocket and pressed them into her hand. “Open it.”
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