The Darcy & Flora Boxed Set

by Blanche Day Manos

  Suddenly he seemed to freeze as an odd expression creased his face. His black brows v’d down over his nose and his eyes seemed to look through me and not see me. He clasped my other hand at the wrist and his fingers tightened like a vise, so hard that my watchband bit into the flesh. Was this man having a stroke right before my eyes? When he spoke, his voice was coarse and grating, not at all as he normally sounded. “Darcy, I’ve got the strongest feeling that you’re in danger. What are you getting yourself into?”

  If somebody had dashed me with a bucket of ice water, I couldn’t have been more chilled. I tried to jerk my hands away but he held on. I licked my lips. “What . . . why do you say that? What are you talking about?”

  He seemed to come back to the present with a start. He dropped my hand and stepped away. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Not a bit. But sometimes I just know things and I know that you might be looking at some mighty dangerous times ahead of you. Watch your step, Darcy.”

  Burke Hopkins hurried to his truck, climbed into the driver’s seat, and roared off down the street. I stared after him, not moving. The goosebumps on my arms had nothing to do with the temperature. The old man’s words were ominous. Had he heard about Rusty Lang who had been killed under our window by the earthquake? Or did he have a sixth sense, as Mom said my Granny Grace had? It seemed that everywhere I went, somebody was warning me of possible harm. Surely I could do something about it and not just wait for the other shoe to drop. But what could I do? I certainly wasn’t asking for danger.

  In my heart I knew this wasn’t perfectly true. I hadn’t been coerced into finding out what happened to Andrea Worth. I could have told Sophie I wouldn’t do it. Zack and Dr. McCauley were right. My curiosity often led me to places I probably should not go. And now there was Burke Hopkins’ warning. I had better do something fast. If I could find out what happened to Andrea Worth, surely there would be no more danger coming at me from any direction.

  Chapter 21

  The “something” I decided to do was go and see our family friend and Levi’s most popular lawyer, Jackson Conner. I deposited Mom and the sack of groceries in the kitchen of her house, then started back out the front door.

  “Where are you going, Darcy?” she asked.

  My mother meant well and truly was concerned for my safety. I had not told her about Burke Hopkins’ warning, nor did I intend to. I believed in “Least said, soonest mended.” Or, in this case, least said, fewer explanations I would have to give my anxious parent.

  “I just want to think about a few things, Mom. No need to come with me. I may see someone I know downtown.” This was basically true.

  “Do be careful, Darcy, although I’d feel a lot easier in my mind if I went with you.”

  I ruffled her short curls. “My bodyguard. Thanks, Mom, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  Gazing at me thoughtfully, she said, “I pray that you will be. Anyway, Grant said he thought when that Rusty Lang person died, that took care of any crazy person who wanted to hurt you.”

  Hopefully, Mom would keep believing that and perhaps she was right, but I was afraid that until Andrea’s disappearance was solved, the danger would exist.

  The sign read Jackson Conner, Attorney at Law. I maneuvered my car into an empty parking space and slid out of the leather seat. His office mirrored the character of Jackson Conner. The cedar paneling, brown leather sofa and chairs, and framed photographs of local places of interest exuded an aura of strength and stability. As I walked in, the aroma of cherry-flavored pipe tobacco met me. That scent was what I remembered most about Jackson Conner.

  His receptionist was not at her desk and the attorney himself opened his inner office door. He came toward me, hand outstretched and smiling.

  “Darcy Campbell! What a pleasant surprise on this gloomy old day. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m not sure, Mr. Conner. Just a talk, I guess. Do you have time?”

  “I’ve always got time for Flora Tucker’s daughter. How is she?”

  He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. I sat down and noticed he still had that comforting plaque on the wall, If God brought you to it, He will take you through it.

  “My mother is fine, thanks. Her house suffered some damage in the last earthquake but, thankfully, we are both all right. I guess you heard about the man found in our yard?”

  “That I did. Also heard about your fright out at Spirit Leap.”

  Why should I be surprised at that? But I wondered who found it newsworthy enough to pass along to an attorney.

  “I’m wondering, Darcy, if it has to do with the book you are planning on writing? Heard about that, too.”

  Grinning, I said, “One of the benefits of a small town is that we could do without modern means of communication. Levi’s gossip is faster.”

  In a courtroom this man would be a formidable figure. His thick shock of white hair, handlebar mustache, and blue eyes that seemed to demand “the truth and only the truth” might have been the pattern God used when he made old-time, straight-as-an-arrow lawyers.

  Jackson Conner would not appreciate my beating around the bush so I came straight to the point. “What, if anything, have you heard about Andrea Worth’s disappearance? Do you have any idea what could have happened to her? Did she leave under her own steam? Or was there foul play? What do you think?”

  Jackson smiled and reached for his pipe that was on an ashtray in front of him; the pipe that reminded me of one I had seen in movies about a 19th-century English sleuth. “I do keep my ear to the ground, Darcy, but I’m not clairvoyant.”

  He lit his pipe and cleared his throat. “However, you may not know this, but Andrea Worth was a client of mine. That is, I guess she would have been.”

  If I had been blessed with antennae, they would have quivered. “No, I didn’t know. You see, Mr. Conner, Andrea’s mother, Sophie Williams wrote to Mom and me. She asked if we could help her reach a conclusion as to what happened to her daughter.”

  He leaned back in his chair and drew on his pipe. “Hmm. That is indeed interesting.”

  “Nobody knows about the letter except Sophie, Mom, a friend in the OSBI and me. Even Grant Hendley doesn’t know. I’m hoping you keep this information to yourself.”

  “Of course. I wonder, though, if it is wise for you to stir things up. There are some things going on in Levi that shouldn’t be going on in a small town, nor in any town, for that matter. You realize, I hope, that there are forces of evil in this old world and when those forces feel threatened, they lash out. I’m afraid our sheriff and his deputies are hard-pressed to rid our town of some mighty foul goings-on.”

  Another warning. And another mention of evil. “I remember that Grant said there is a drug problem. Is that what you are talking about?”

  “Yes, that is what I am talking about. Illicit drugs are coming into Levi from somewhere, but where? That’s what’s keeping our sheriff and others in law enforcement awake nights. But getting back to Andrea: when she came to see me, she was a scared little thing. She came to me shortly before her disappearance. She wanted to talk to me about divorce.”

  I gulped. “From Gary?”

  “From Gary. I’m not betraying client/attorney privilege, Darcy, because my client is not here and I fear she is dead. At any rate, I’m telling you this. She wanted to know about her many assets, how to keep Gary from getting half since he had very little at the time of their marriage. This was her second marriage, you know. But she never did carry through. I figured she and Gary patched things up.”

  A smoke ring drifted lazily to the ceiling as I considered this. So Andrea wanted a divorce. If she died or disappeared, Gary would have control of all of Andrea’s assets. This was certainly something to think about. But, if she died, Charlene would have better grounds for demanding her right to Inglenook Ranch. And, if Charlene married Tom Mott, Tom would at last have his hands on all that land. It looked like several people would profit from Andrea’s death.

  “I have t
he letter that Sophie wrote,” I said, rummaging in my purse. “I’d like for you to read it.”

  As I pulled out the folded paper, a photo copy of the mystery knife fell out onto Jackson Conner’s desk.

  He picked up the letter, read it, and handed it back to me. “I see. So I guess you and Flora felt it was your duty to help this poor woman. What’s this?”

  He picked up the knife picture and studied it.

  “I found the knife at Spirit Leap, the day after the first earthquake. I don’t know how it got there or who may have dropped it. Have you ever seen a knife like that?”

  “Oh, yes. It looks familiar. I just can’t recall where I saw it yet. I will though. Hmm. Some letters on the side are missing. I’m guessing it was a logo for a business.”

  “That’s what I think, too. I’ve been planning to show it around town and ask if anyone can tell me about it, but with all the excitement from the earthquake, it slipped my mind, or didn’t seem that important.”

  “Where is the actual knife?”

  “Grant has it.”

  “Then let him do the asking. I’m going to repeat, Darcy, that you must be very careful. Asking questions of the wrong people can be dangerous indeed.”

  Chapter 22

  I climbed back into my car and sat for a few minutes, thinking about my conversation with Jackson Conner. The day seemed to be getting colder, and although it was noon, the sun was nowhere to be seen. All these warnings were beginning to fray my nerves. I have no more courage than the average person, and in the light of all the warnings about evil and danger and keeping my eyes open, perhaps I should call Sophie and tell her that I was going to turn the whole thing over to Grant and let professional law enforcement people try to solve Andrea’s disappearance.

  Then I thought of Sophie’s troubled face. I could almost hear her saying that she had already tried professional law enforcement and they came up with a big, fat zero.

  People closest to the victim were always the first suspects and judging from what Jackson Conner had to say, all was not well in Andrea’s marriage. But OSBI agents, the Ventris County sheriff at the time, and anyone else with a badge had swarmed all over the Worth home and they all came up with nothing. In their depositions, more than one witness swore that no vehicle had entered or exited the Worth ranch on the day that Andrea supposedly disappeared. Surveillance cameras Gary had aimed at his house showed no unusual activity. The film captured nothing suspicious.

  Okay, Andrea vanished so she had to get out of there some way. The question was—how? What other person could I talk to who might hazard a guess as to how an average-size young woman could have vanished like snow in sunshine? The owner of a dairy just down the road from the Worth ranch reported that he got up before daylight to milk cows. He had seen no vehicles go past his home in the pre-dawn darkness. If Andrea were afraid for her life and wanted to leave without anyone’s knowledge, what baffling method did she use for accomplishing that?

  Would she simply have walked away? Did she know the thickly forested area around her home well enough to thread her way through those woods and hide in a cave or a sheltered glen? But, where would she have gone from there? Sooner or later, she would have come out and tried to find more a more permanent hideaway.

  What would I do if I wanted to run away from a threat? Would I think that disappearing without a trace would bring safety? I would probably need an accomplice; but what trustworthy person could I turn to? Who would keep a secret like that, no matter what the consequences? And who might know a secret way out of the Worth property?

  It would have to be someone as stoic as Jasper Harris. Jasper! Like a light bulb coming on, I remembered his words the day of the first earthquake when he and I had taken the wagon road to my mother’s farm. He had pointed to a spot between two trees and said that was a shortcut to the Worth Ranch. Then he refused to tell me anymore and said it was better to keep some things to himself.

  Was Jasper ever interviewed concerning Andrea’s disappearance? Probably no one could lay hands on him to ask him any questions. But Jasper was the one person who roamed the woods of Ventris County and knew them as well as he knew his own home.

  I should just call Jasper and ask him to show me that dim path again. Or not. Did I know that I could trust Jasper Harris? What if he had done something to Andrea, either accidentally or on purpose? If he knew the shortcut to Andrea’s home, had he used it for nefarious purposes? I had witnessed Jasper’s temper in the past. Could he have lost his temper with Andrea for something trivial or important, at least in his eyes, and lashed out at her in anger?

  Starting my car’s engine and putting it in gear, I drove slowly down the street. Maybe I could find the shortcut myself. A real downer, though, was that evidently an elusive but dangerous panther considered the area his own private stomping grounds. I was not eager to meet up with that long, graceful cat with the blood-curding scream. But I could drive out that way and stay in my car. Perhaps I would get an insight as to how Andrea could have left by this little-known route. Mountain lions were shy and stayed away from people. Surely it would not attack me if I were in the Escape.

  I called my mother. Her answering machine came on. Good. “Eat lunch without me, Mom,” I said. “I’ll be along soon.”

  That little chore taken care of, I headed out of town in the direction of Granny Grace’s acres.

  When I arrived at the old wagon ruts, I pulled my SUV off the road as far as possible and squinted into the dense growth of trees. I couldn’t see any sign of the shortcut Jasper had pointed out.

  There was nothing to do but retrace the way I had gone when Jasper rode beside me. Easing the car between two saplings, I inched along the track made by horses and wagon wheels, many decades earlier. Where were we when Jasper pointed out his side window and said, “That there’s a shortcut to the Worth ranch”? Then he had shut up and refused to say more.

  Creeping along, scanning the woods to my right for any sign of a break in the trees, I wished for a powerful spotlight. The branches of towering oaks and sycamores met in a canopy overhead obscuring most of the light from the shrouded sun. There! That had to be the path. Dense trees and undergrowth parted for a good way back into the woods, marking a faint trail. It was not wide enough for a car or truck, but an ATV could squeeze through, surely.

  Shutting off the engine, I scooted over to the passenger side of my car. There was nothing but dark trees and bushes as far back into the woods as I could see. I fumbled in the glove compartment, got out the flashlight and opened the door. The dim circle of light did no good at all. If I got out and walked through the woods, maybe I could find something if I knew what I was looking for. Maybe I would see a button, a piece of jewelry—anything that did not belong.

  However, the Escape offered safety from the wild critters who lived here. What if I happened to meet another of those wild relatives of Jethro?

  “Please, Lord, give me Your protection,” I whispered. I remembered someone saying a long time ago that the Lord protected fools but I didn’t think that was biblical.

  Looking back at my vehicle after venturing away only two steps, I nearly changed my mind. It represented safety and civilization. I would go only a short way, scanning the area with the flashlight, and if nothing turned up, I would go home. There was only the smallest of chances that something lost two years ago would still be visible. Two seasons of brown leaves would have covered any evidence at my feet. Even though the chances of seeing something suspicious were remote, the memory of Andrea’s anguished mother acted as a spur. I determined to search, futile though it might be.

  Something dangled from a blackberry bush a few steps ahead of me. I hurried forward and shone my light full on it. Reaching through the thorns, my searching fingers touched the hard, ridged object. I drew it out for a closer look. A clump of dried berries, fused together as they grew, lay in my palm, hangers-on from last season’s crop. Some clue! It was not much of a reward for scratched fingers.

 
With no warning, thunder crashed over my head. I must have jumped three feet into the air. Rain followed on the heels of the thunder, pelting me with hard, cold drops. When my heart slowed to normal, I glanced back for the comforting sight of my SUV. All that I could see were trees and more trees. Without meaning to I had come far enough to lose sight of my Escape. I would have to depend on the flashlight to guide me back to the dim trail and shelter. Beaming the light at the ground, I realized that rain-darkened leaves all looked the same. I faced the nerve-jangling truth; I was lost.

  Surely my Cherokee forbearers had left an ingrained sense of direction somewhere within my genes. Taking a few steps to the right, I squinted through the rain. A sumac thicket barred my way. I turned to go the other direction and a scattering of gray limestone rocks blocked my path. I took a deep breath, trying to slow my heart to normal.

  My ancestors may have roamed these woods without ever getting lost, but somehow that enviable skill had not filtered down to this descendant.

  Lightning sliced through the darkness followed by another deafening peal of thunder. I yelped and scooted under an oak that still had a lot of brown leaves on its branches. Maybe it was foolish to be under a tree with all the electricity sizzling through the air, but since the trees were as thick as the fur on my tomcat’s tail, I decided I would be as safe under one as not.

  The only thing to do was wait out the storm. When the sun shone again, at least I would know east from west. Surely I could see something familiar to guide me back to my car. My cell phone! I patted my pockets but could not feel that comforting bulge. With a sinking feeling, I realized the phone was in my purse and my purse was in the car. Crouching close to the tree trunk, I tried to shield my eyes from the blinding rain.

  After 15 minutes, I had had enough of waiting for the storm to abate. If anything, it had gathered strength. Standing up, I shouted as loudly as I could, “Help!” So much for dignity and my reputation. I cared for neither. All I wanted was to be in the shelter of my beloved car and on my way back home.