by Laura Childs
Caught off guard by the sudden noise and slivers of glass that had come blasting out of nowhere, Jacoby’s hand wavered slightly as he squeezed the trigger.
32
BOOM!
Standing as close as she was, Theodosia was rocked by the sudden explosion. This was no tidy POP like she’d heard in the woods last week. From barely six feet away, the noise from Jacoby’s pistol rattled her brain and made her ears scream with pain. Then . . .
“Owwww!” came a high-pitched howl.
Fawn had been hit. Jacoby’s wayward bullet had caught Fawn in her right shoulder and spun her around like an unsuspecting prairie dog that had just been popped.
“Drop it!” Theodosia shouted again. She doubted that Jacoby would stop to heed her warning, but she had to try.
“Police!” Drayton yelled, in a deeper, more authoritative rumble. “You’re surrounded!”
It was a game deception they were trying to sell, but Jacoby wasn’t buying it. They watched in stunned horror through a window frame that gaped like an empty eye socket as Jacoby bent down and scooped up the duffel bag full of money. With nary a look over his shoulder at the wounded Fawn, he rushed out a side door and disappeared.
Theodosia and Drayton scrambled into the barn to help Fawn, but she was already struggling to her feet, screaming and practically gnashing her teeth.
“He shot me!” Bleary-eyed with anger, stunned by the sudden pain, Fawn writhed and hissed like a crazed banshee.
“Calm down, it’s a shoulder wound,” Theodosia said. “I know it hurts like the devil, but you’ll live.” She dug in her purse for a clean hankie to cover the wound even as she heard a car start up outside. Jacoby’s car must have been parked on the far side of the barn. Now he was getting away!
Fawn suddenly stopped sputtering and jerked her head around frantically. “The money!” she cried. “Where’s my money?”
“Jacoby took it,” Theodosia told her. “Your trusted accomplice.” She leaned in until she was barely an inch from Fawn’s face. “And by the way, missy, it wasn’t your money.”
Fawn’s anger and craziness ratcheted to greater heights. “We have to go after him!” she screamed. “We’ve got to get that money back!”
“You’ve been shot,” Drayton said. He was trying his best to calm Fawn down as they led her outside to Theodosia’s Jeep. “You’re in shock. We have to get you to a hospital.”
Fawn shook her head back and forth so fast it was practically a blur. “No. Got to get . . . money.”
“No, no, no,” Drayton said, still trying to be reasonable. He opened the back door and half lifted a slowly weakening Fawn into the vehicle. Then he climbed in after her and closed the door.
“Buckle those seat belts,” Theodosia shouted as she scrambled behind the wheel and cranked the ignition. Her tires spun for a split second, and then they were off and running like a scalded cat.
“Where are we going?” Drayton yelped. “That isn’t the way to . . . Wait, what do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m following the money,” Theodosia yelled back at him. “This is called hot pursuit!” She pointed her Jeep in the direction she figured Jacoby had taken off in, which was essentially cross-country.
“He can’t go far. There’s nothing out here but woods and creeks and swamps!” Drayton cried. “Best to turn around.”
Theodosia ignored him. “Hang on,” she said as they jounced along. “And keep Fawn still.” She was trying to follow the trail of flattened grass that Jacoby’s car had made. “I’ve got this.”
“I don’t think you do!” Drayton shouted back.
Theodosia half turned. “You really want Jacoby to escape with all that money?”
“No, but I don’t relish getting shot, either,” Drayton said.
“Well then, just . . . stay low.”
“Lord have mercy,” Drayton muttered.
* * *
* * *
Theodosia couldn’t see Jacoby’s taillights in front of her as she goosed her Jeep from thirty to forty, then edged up toward fifty, but she could follow his trail. She just had to . . .
CLUNK.
. . . be mindful of all the old stumps and humps she was flying over. Make one wrong move, take her eyes off the trail for one second, and she could rip the undercarriage out of her car.
“This is so not a good idea,” Drayton said. “It’s like the dark side of the moon out here.”
And it was dark. Trees loomed up to startle Theodosia, then the land rose, dipped, and turned suddenly muddy again. Right now, they appeared to be running parallel to a creek. Theodosia knew she should phone Riley, or maybe Sheriff Burney—he was probably closer—but she needed to keep both hands on the wheel. She was practically outdriving her headlights as the rutted earth grabbed and tugged her vehicle from side to side.
“How’s Fawn doing?” Theodosia dared to take a quick peek in her rearview mirror.
“She needs medical attention,” Drayton said. “What do you think?”
“Fawn?” Theodosia said.
“Hurts some, but please keep going,” Fawn pleaded. “Run that bonehead down.”
Theodosia wanted to remind Fawn that she was just as much of a bonehead as Jacoby, but she held her tongue. For the time being anyway.
A spark of red up ahead caught Theodosia’s eye.
There he is.
She tromped down on the accelerator, and her engine roared in response. She intended to run him to ground, like a wily fox after a skittering hare.
Theodosia was starting to close the gap between her and Jacoby. If she could get close enough, she could ram him hard with her reinforced front bumper and send him careening into a tree. Or drive him into a creek.
Creek! There’s one just ahead of me!
A dark stream of free-flowing water suddenly appeared in Theodosia’s headlights. A shallow creek, maybe six or seven inches deep. There were cuts in both banks, so this was clearly the spot where Jacoby had crossed. Without hesitating, she plunged down the bank.
SPLASH!
“What’s happening?” Drayton cried.
“Creek,” Theodosia called out. Her voice was level and calm, as if she were a Charleston trolley driver calling out stops along Church Street or King Street.
Theodosia flipped on her windshield wipers as her Jeep bucked and shimmied its way up the opposite bank. It wasn’t a steep climb, maybe a thirty-degree pitch. But when Theodosia was back on terra firma, tearing through a small woodlot, Jacoby seemed to have vanished. There were no taillights, no tire tracks, no clues to be found anywhere.
Where are you? Where did you go?
“This is terrifying,” Drayton complained. “I feel like I’m in a pivotal scene right out of Thelma and Louise.”
But Theodosia remained quiet and on guard as she drove along. Though she was pulsing with adrenaline, she was also trying to puzzle out where Jacoby had disappeared to. Was there a road she hadn’t seen? Some obscure trail that Jacoby had snuck down?
She tried to recall the Google map she’d printed out some six days ago. Tried to conjure up the roads and terrain markers in her mind so she could figure out which road she’d initially turned down and where she was right now. Had this chase after Jacoby taken her in a long, lazy loop? If so, which way? Deeper into the woods and swamps? Back toward Creekmore Plantation? Theodosia wasn’t sure where she was. The night was so dark and the surroundings so wild. Even worse, she could be a sitting duck.
“Drayton, do you remember if—” Theodosia began.
BOOM! CRASH!
The rear window of Theodosia’s Jeep suddenly exploded in a barrage of glass!
“Merde!” Drayton shouted.
“Watch out, watch out!” Theodosia cried as all three of them ducked low and covered their heads with their hands to protect themselves from flying shards. Then, “Are you hurt, Drayton? Fawn?” Theodosia called out urgently. She couldn’t believe what’d just happened. That rat Jacoby had hidden in the weeds and snuc
k up behind her.
And shot at us!
“Anybody hurt?” Theodosia called again.
“No, we’re . . .” Drayton was trying to brush small pieces of glass from their shoulders. “We’re still in one piece.”
“That’s it!” Theodosia cried. “That’s enough!” She grasped her steering wheel and juked it hard. The engine screamed as she spun her vehicle in a tight circle, her tires digging in and throwing up huge chunks of sod.
“Don’t,” Drayton cried.
“Get him,” Fawn shouted.
The chase was back on. Theodosia bumped over humps and hillocks, following after Jacoby’s car, trying desperately to catch him. This was war. Now she knew what she had to do—she had to run him down and ram him. Crawl up on one side of his car and give him a hard push so he’d slam-bam into a tree.
But at the same time, Theodosia worried. Was she following the rabbit down the rabbit hole only to come to a foolish conclusion? Theodosia wasn’t sure. Right now she was angry as a hornet at Jacoby. Everything else—all logic—had been stripped away to bare naked emotion. But could she really cause the man serious harm?
Time to find out.
They screamed up a hillside, Jacoby weaving back and forth wildly, trying frantically to lose her. Her Jeep bucked like a bronco, but Theodosia remained doggedly on his tail.
But where am I? Theodosia wondered. It would help enormously if I knew . . .
In her headlights, the hill looked as if it were topped with gentle clouds . . . clouds that slowly materialized into a faint blur of purple.
Yes!
They were roaring past one of Susan Monday’s lavender fields. These little lavender beacons weren’t bright like the navigation buoys in Charleston Harbor, but they still signified a safe harbor and told her where she was. Which meant that Axson Creek was probably nearby.
But which way? Left or right, right or left?
The land leveled out, and Theodosia roared up alongside Jacoby. Gritting her teeth, she made a wild move and swung the nose of her Jeep into his rear bumper. There was a horrific screech of metal as the two vehicles collided. They roared along that way, sparks flying, bumping hard, metal grinding against metal, until Theodosia gave her wheel a final, hard jerk and drove Jacoby down, down, down a hill and into . . .
Yes, there it is!
. . . Axson Creek.
As Jacoby’s car plunged into the creek, Theodosia hit her brakes hard. Her car fishtailed badly, shuddered, jounced, and finally came to a molar-jarring stop a precipitous four inches from the bank of the fast-moving creek.
Nobody spoke until Drayton asked, “Are we dead yet?”
But Theodosia knew this chase was only half-over.
“Stay here,” she ordered. “Stay safe.”
“Wait,” Drayton said. “Where do you think you’re going?”
But Theodosia still had her flashlight and was already out of her Jeep and running toward Jacoby’s car. She was panting hard, practically out of breath, as she slid down the muddy embankment. Knee-deep in water now, shivering from the cold and the sudden burst of adrenaline, she sloshed her way toward Jacoby’s car.
It was upside down, nose half-submerged in the creek. All the windows were shattered.
Is Jacoby still alive?
Theodosia turned on her flashlight and shone it into the car. The thin beam of light barely penetrated the darkness and tendrils of ground fog that had quickly seeped in. But it was enough to pinpoint Bill Jacoby.
He was hanging upside down, seat belt still pulled tight across his broad chest.
“Help me,” Jacoby croaked. Blood dribbled from his nose; one eye was badly swollen and starting to close.
“Where’s your pistol?” Theodosia asked. She wasn’t about to venture any closer until she knew the exact whereabouts of his weapon.
“I don’t know.”
Theodosia probed the darkness with her flashlight, searching for that pistol. It was strange to peer into a car that was upside down. Like being in some weird, netherworld fun house that wasn’t the least bit fun. Stranger still to be confronting a man she’d come to think of as a friend.
A glint of black metal winked at her.
There it is.
Theodosia stuck a hand through the shattered side window and grabbed Jacoby’s pistol. Pulled it out. It was a Sig Sauer P938, compact and dangerous-looking, with a black hard-coated anodized frame and rubber grip. It looked, Theodosia thought, like a black mamba poised to strike.
Flipping on the safety, then checking the safety a second time to make sure, Theodosia tucked the Sig Sauer in her jacket pocket and pulled out her cell phone.
Jacoby let loose a low moan. “Help me. I think my arm is broken. My ribs are on fire.”
“I’m sorry you’re injured,” Theodosia said. “But you did shoot at me. You did try to kill me.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Jacoby sobbed.
“Like you didn’t mean to kill Reginald Doyle?”
“I didn’t . . .”
“Why?” Theodosia asked, moving closer to him. “Why would you do it? Why did you do it?”
Jacoby shook his head as tears oozed from his swollen eyes. “Reginald had so much, and I . . . I wanted more.”
“Okay,” Theodosia said. She was trying to sound agreeable, hoping this might prompt Jacoby to talk. She moved her phone close to Jacoby and thumbed on the recorder. “I can understand that. You wanted more.”
“First there was the lure of key partner insurance,” Jacoby said with a moan. “One million dollars.” For a moment, his expression turned slightly beatific. “Do you know what you can buy for one million dollars?”
“A lot, I suppose.”
“But then that little weasel of a girl jumped out at me. Moments after I shot him. She threatened to rat me out if I didn’t pay her.” Jacoby coughed hard, grimacing from the pain. “So I thought and I thought. What could I do? How could I stop her? I mean, I couldn’t risk another shooting . . .”
The answer hit Theodosia like a ton of bricks. “You tried to kill her when you set fire to the house.”
“Yes, but she escaped from the house.”
Theodosia could hardly believe what she was hearing.
“So then I thought, what else?” Jacoby whimpered.
“The phony kidnapping?”
“She was the one who proposed it!” Jacoby said, pouncing on Theodosia’s words. “Fawn with her twisted, devious mind.”
“You kept digging yourself into a hole that got deeper and deeper,” Theodosia said.
“I didn’t think so. At the time, I thought I was quite brilliant.”
Theodosia shook her head. “Greed. You know it’s one of the seven deadly sins, don’t you?”
“Seven . . . what?”
“Did you drop that doll in the harbor for the Coast Guard to find?” Theodosia asked.
“Doll?” Jacoby’s face was a blank.
“Never mind.” Theodosia turned her back on Jacoby and climbed back up the muddy creek bank. She sat down on a nearby log and studied her phone. She still had two bars left. Plenty of juice to call Riley.
“What’s going on out there?” Drayton called from the car.
“Jacoby just confessed,” Theodosia called back.
“You mean to the murder?”
“And the fake kidnapping.”
“Two birds with one stone.” Drayton sounded impressed. “Imagine that.” Then he turned sober. “People are injured here, Theo. We need to get help.”
“I’m going to call Riley right now, let him deal with the logistics.”
Not sure what to expect, Theodosia drew a deep breath and called.
Once again, Riley answered on the first ring.
“Theodosia! Where are you? What are you up to? Why aren’t you answering your phone? I’ve been pulling my hair out!” Riley sounded frantic. And angry, really angry.
“Sorry, but I’ve been kind of busy.”
“That sounds suspiciously like
a pre-apology. Where have you been? What happened?”
Theodosia drew a deep breath. “There was a chase . . .”
“You mean after Fawn?”
“Actually, there was another chase. Which ended with a car wreck.”
“Wha . . . ?” Riley blurted.
“But I’ve managed to capture your killer and your fake kidnapper. Even managed to get a confession on tape.”
Pete Riley was momentarily stunned. All he could manage was, “No.”
“Yes.” Theodosia sounded tired but confident.
“Who?”
“Bill Jacoby.”
“The business partner?” Now Riley was incredulous. “He wasn’t even on our radar.”
“And Fawn. It would appear that Fawn was in cahoots with Jacoby all along. Well, not exactly all along. Fawn’s the one who saw Jacoby shoot Reginald Doyle. Then, sweetheart that she is, she pretty much blackmailed Jacoby into helping her stage a phony kidnapping.”
“And demand a real-life ransom,” Riley said.
“Five million dollars’ worth. I guess Fawn really wanted to get away from that husband of hers.”
“So that’s it?”
“There are a few other wrinkles and permutations,” Theodosia said. “But that’s pretty much the gist of it.”
“Dear Lord.”
“Oh, and we could use an ambulance and some law enforcement out here ASAP, so I’ll text you a map and try to pinpoint where I think . . .” Theodosia paused. “Riley?” When he didn’t respond, she said, “Are you there?” Nothing. No answer back. An icicle of dread touched her heart. “Riley, are you still . . . are you mad at me?”
There was a hiss of dead air, and Theodosia felt her heart slowly sinking. Riley was mad at her for ignoring his direct order and tearing off on her own. He was probably so furious that he’d never speak to her again for as long as she lived. Theodosia wanted to sob. No more Riley in her life. No more movies curled up on the couch together. No more tea and croissants while they read the Sunday paper. No more picnics with Earl Grey or hikes in Francis Marion National Forest.
Then his voice came back and he said, “I’m sending help now. Holy Christmas, Theodosia, you really did figure it out.”