by Tess Rothery
"And so, Molly found a new boyfriend. That had to be the raise she was excited about. A richer, but more dangerous, Sugar Daddy," Taylor said softly.
Ingrid considered this fact. Molly had moved on to a new man. A troubled man. Probably psychotic. And yet, he had gone to the lengths he did to protect Asha. He couldn’t have wanted Molly to die.
"If Jack killed Molly, instead of just breaking up with her, and left her at the farm as a sign to Coco, what did the things left with her body mean?" Taylor asked.
"He always was one to take advantage of a return policy…" Charlotte murmured. "After all, when his wife magically had two kids instead of one, he returned her. He left a smashed phone and a broken necklace. Was he saying he’d gotten damaged goods?”
"Federal offense to remove the tag from a pillow." Taylor sat with her eyes closed.
Ingrid stared at her granddaughter. Where was she going with those thoughts? They seemed so scattered. So, based in the world of retail and not in the world of crime solving. She might eventually come to an answer following that trail, but it seemed so haphazard.
"Damaged goods. Broken contract. Molly wasn't what was promised. She had a kid." Ingrid repeated the conclusions to see how they sounded.
"She couldn't have any more kids," Taylor said. "She’d had a hysterectomy. Maybe he had asked specifically for someone who couldn't have kids and had been given Molly as some kind of top-of-the-line product. Not only was she young and beautiful, but she did not have a womb. It was impossible for her to do the one thing he hated most in the world."
"Feared." Charlotte said firmly. "It was what he feared. We can manage what we hate, by brute force if necessary. But we always run from what we fear."
"And the marriage counseling card. Did that imply all of the marriages would be fixed?" Taylor asked.
“Not if Jack left the card. He was a happily divorced man. Maybe the card was left in the mud to show his general feelings about marriage.” Ingrid wrapped her fingers around the wheel. It wasn’t satisfying, even if it was logical. Their conclusions so far were that this Jack had gone online and ordered a girlfriend to spec. Pretty, young, and infertile. Getting one with a child had spurred him to murder her and leave her at the place of business as a sign. Charlotte was doing her best to throw the blame on Jack. And why? Perhaps because she’d done it herself. “This could be true,” Ingrid said. Murder doesn’t have to make perfect sense, but this isn’t adding up yet. She knew where they needed to go next. "Buckle up Charlotte. We’ve got a long way to reverse."
Taylor clung to the hand rest of the door with white knuckles. She felt like she was choking on a heart that was beating all the way in her throat. She closed her eyes, but that made it worse. She needed to see the cliff next to her as Grandma Quinny zipped backwards down what must have been fifty miles of log road. The car skidded on a bump and Grandma wrenched the wheel to correct it. Taylor was sure she was going to wet herself but managed to hold it together.
The minute the car was facing forward again she smacked her grandma on her shoulder. “Are you trying to get us all killed!” She hadn’t realized she was going to scream, but there it was.
“Ingrid Quinn, you are a lunatic!” Charlotte cried out from the back seat.
“It’s a matter of life and death. Did you expect me to toddle on into the mountains till I came to the clear cut so I could turn around? I think not.”
“It’s only life and death because you’re going to get us killed!” Charlotte yelled. “Hit her again, Taylor. She deserves it.”
Taylor sat stiffly in her seat.
She had smacked her seventy-something-year-old grandmother. And yelled at her. Two things she would never have predicted.
Then again, she could never have predicted anything about this scenario. Not in a million years.
“I knew how to get to your house because of those mixers you used to throw. We went faithfully before Angus retired. But I haven’t a clue where Jack Groening lives. You’ve got to navigate now, so quit yelling and tell me where to go.”
“You think you can show up at his house and trick him into getting into this car with you? Then what? Drive him off to the mountains and lock him in till he confesses? Or maybe you’ll get him drunk like you did with my husband.”
“You what now?” Taylor asked in disbelief.
“Never you mind, young lady.” She shushed her granddaughter. “All you have to do, Charlotte, is get us to his house. I’ll handle the rest.”
“I’m calling the police. Sure, on that hillside I didn’t have a signal, but I do now. That girl from Comfort isn’t going to be the only one filing abduction charges.”
Ingrid yanked her car to the shoulder. “You’re going to turn me in rather than catch a murderer?”
“You’re a dangerous woman.” Charlotte was already dialing.
“I’m glad you realize that. Taylor, get her phone.”
Taylor gritted her teeth. She leaned heavily to Charlotte’s side in this one, and yet, she’d just smacked her grandmother. Hit the mother of her deceased father. She’d hit her! She turned, powered entirely by guilt, and wrenched the phone from Charlotte’s hand, then without giving it any thought, she pressed the button to roll down her window and tossed it into the brambles along the side of the road.
“Good girl.” Grandma Quinny pulled back into traffic. “Make a note of the mile marker so we can return for it when we’re finished.”
Taylor did as she was told. If they came back for the phone, then she hadn’t really committed a crime, had she?
“Jack lives in Dundee. Off County Road 76, near the cemetery. I’ll show you which house.” Charlotte had been cowed into obedience.
Taylor didn’t trust her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was a long drive to Dundee and by the time Charlotte pointed out the right house, Taylor was sure she wouldn't be able to walk. Her thigh had cramped so thoroughly she almost fell out of the car. That injury her doctor was sure was just all in her mind now. But she was sure literally tensing her muscle in fear had triggered it this time. Taylor’d had a lot of feelings about Grandma Quinny before, but never fear.
The house at the end of the country driveway was impressive if you liked that angular, modern style, but it lacked the feminine touch that made places feel like home. Taylor gave it a cursory glance and then let Charlotte out of the car.
Grandma Quinny stared at the house with a laser like focus, not moving from the driver's seat.
"You’re a victim too," Charlotte whispered to Taylor as she climbed out of the backseat. "But we're okay now. See that Jeep over there, the tan one? That's Sarah’s, my friend. Jack's ex. She'll help us get out of this mess. Give me your phone, quick."
Taylor passed over her phone. It was a relief to hand off the responsibility of turning Grandma Quinny in.
"All right, come along ladies,” Grandma Quinny ordered. “This is a condolence call.”
The flat-fronted steel door was ever so slightly ajar when they reached it. Grandma Quinny pushed it open but held a finger to her lips. They stepped lightly into the entry, both Grandma Quinny and Charlotte slipped off their shoes—an automatic response to entering a home of this caliber.
Taylor did not. There was safety in shoes. She’d seen Die Hard.
The ladies in their stocking feet, and Taylor in her trainers, made their way silently toward the center of the house. They’d reached an area that opened into a sitting room and a kitchen. Somewhere in the distance they could hear voices. Taylor strained, knowing her relative youth meant she could probably locate the people fastest.
“The den,” Charlotte whispered. Since she knew her way around the house, they followed her.
Taylor’s nerves hadn’t calmed even a bit since their retreat down the mountain, and she had to work to keep her breathing as quiet as her feet.
Charlotte stopped them at the door to the den. The voices on the other side had raised in the moments it had taken to turn a corner a
nd descend a few steps.
“I cleaned up a mess for you. That’s why you owe me,” the female voice hissed. Likely this was Sarah, the woman Charlotte knew so well.
Charlotte’s lips were moving but her voice was silent. Taylor strained to see what she might be saying. First, Charlotte’s mouth opened, then they came together, pursed almost. Taylor tried it. Oh no? Or maybe…not her? Maybe.
The male voice took a long time to respond. “How did you do this?”
“The coffee. It’s always the coffee. Why people take a cup of coffee from someone they shouldn’t trust, I’ll never know. I had to knock you out a little so I could restrain you.”
“But why, Sarah? I don’t understand.” His words came out muddy as though he was just waking up.
“That boy. That boy. That boy.” Each repeat of the two words got louder. “He was a problem. A real mess. She was trying to trap you. You hate boys.”
“Sarah….” The male voice—surely Jack—sounded scared. “Sarah, you should let me go. We can talk better if we’re both free and easy, right? We’ve always been able to talk.”
Taylor reached for the door, instinctively drawn to rescue, but Grandma Quinny held her arm out, preventing any of them from crossing the threshold.
In Grandma Quinny’s other hand, she held her phone, set to the voice recording app.
There were parts of the law Taylor wasn’t sure of, but if Sarah was about to confess to murder, or to assisting Jack in murder, the three of them as witnesses should stand up in court even if a voice recording wouldn’t be admissible.
“I know you hate boys because you left me and the twins. You didn’t even let them stay the night at your house till they were ten. Ten. What kind of life was that for my boys?”
“The boys had everything they needed in your home. Truly.” Though still a bit slurry, Jack was coaxing now. He must be a thoroughly practiced manipulator to be able to try it under these conditions. “Dustin’s been a great stepfather to them.” His façade of calm cracked on the name Dustin. “And I’m a different man now, aren’t I? You say so yourself all the time.”
“Not that different. Not different enough to be a dad. Not after all these years.” Sarah’s voice was shrill, a word Taylor hated, but a sound she hated even more. Her shoulder tensed and her leg gave out. She wobbled on her feet, knocking Charlotte into the door.
Grandma Quinny pushed all three of them back, but the door had moved, and the bile of fear was burning at Taylor’s throat.
“Just put the needle down and talk. You don’t have to untie me. That’s fine.” There was a lengthy pause, but neither Jack nor Sarah seemed to have noticed the door move. “There you go. That’s better.”
Taylor nudged her grandmother, they had to get in there. The three of them could easily overpower one single woman, but Grandma Quinny stood firm.
“Arsenic can kill instantly, or it can take it’s time,” Sarah said. “It was incredibly fast for Molly. But it’s taking forever for you.”
“Sarah, no…Sarah, I loved that girl, but you’re right. I didn’t want to be a dad.”
“And that’s why you should thank me,” Sarah’s spiteful voice turned Taylor’s blood to ice. “I wasn’t going to let that whore saddle you with her kid. Not when we’d worked so hard to build up Ponderosa for my boys. Mine. Do you hear me? Not yours. Those boys are all mine and they deserve every penny you’ve made.”
“But she wasn’t going to saddle me with anything. I broke up with her. She’d moved on to someone else. I loved her….but not enough to put up with her kid.”
Grandma Quinny nodded, but still held her place.
“That makes no difference. Not now. That needle is full to the brim, but I don’t need it to kill you. You’re already dead. After taking care of Molly, I realized my mistake. It was you who had to go. You could replace Molly easily. The world is full of gold diggers.”
Taylor nudged her grandma again, and widened her eyes dramatically, hoping they said, “Get in there!” But Grandma Quinny didn’t move.
“How, why? Please give me at least that much.” Jack was openly weeping now.
“Her stupid coffee. I said you fools will take a coffee from anyone. I’ve texted her on and off since Thanksgiving when we all met. She seemed like someone I should keep an eye on. One little text inviting her to meet at her favorite park, and one free cup of coffee. She sold her life for a cup of coffee.” The disdain in Sarah’s voice was palpable. “And a child’s drink too. So syrupy she’d never have noticed the arsenic even if it hadn’t been almond flavored. I got her in my car because I said it looked like it was going to rain. Gave her the coffee, and we just drove around. We drove around all day, me, and dead Molly.”
“Sarah, you can’t mean this. Not you. You are one of the good ones.” Jack’s desperate plea tore at Taylor’s heart.
“I was looking for the right place to make it’s self apparent. The place to leave the body, of course. I couldn’t believe my luck when I found myself on Bible Creek Road driving past that farm where that nasty little Coco runs her nasty little business. It was easy as anything to go back a few miles and take the farm gate at the Farquhar place to get to the Quinn place from behind. My Jeep doesn’t mind a little off-roading.” She paused, but Jack didn’t react this time. “And the Quinns…those simple fools. All their sheds were open. I just grabbed a shovel and went at it. I dropped her broken necklace and phone so Coco would know that it was over. After all, once you’ve killed a whore, what’s killing a few more? But I thought the marriage counseling card was a nice touch. That was for the Quinns. If anyone needs to see a counselor, it’s those two. Who do they think they are, sheltering a girl set to destroy marriages across the county? Fools, that’s who.”
Grandma Quinny pushed the door open with both hands. “How dare you!”
Taylor stumbled through behind her.
Charlotte, in the hall, was saying, “We need the sheriff,” hopefully, into her phone.
Sarah, a woman who immediately reminded Taylor of Hudson’s mom Cheryl lunged at Grandma Quinny.
Taylor spotted the hypodermic needle on a large desk and pushed it to the floor—anything to get it out of Sarah’s reach.
Grandma Quinny stood firm against the flailing woman. In seconds Sarah was incapacitated with Grandma’s silk clad arm around her neck.
“In my purse,” Grandma Quinny said, “I’ve got a few zip ties we use at the farm. I thought they might be handy.”
Taylor fumbled in the purse that hung off her grandma’s shoulders till she found the plastic ties so useful on the family property.
“While I’ve got her, grab her wrists and lock them up. Don’t worry about doing it right or wrong, just do it tight.”
Taylor’s hands shook and the ties fell from her uncooperative fingers three times before she had the woman secured.
“It’s okay,” Grandma Quinny soothed. “You just need a little practice.”
Sarah had gone limp in Grandma Quinny’s arms, and as soon as Grandma’s grip relaxed, she sunk to the floor. Her eyes were closed, but she was too stiff to have passed out. This was an act, but it was handy in the moment. Grandma Quinny got to her knees and zip tied the woman’s ankles together. Sarah kicked twice, but Grandma was too strong for that to matter.
“Who are you?” Jack asked, fighting against the belt that held him to his desk chair.
“I’m Ingrid Quinn. We’ve met several times, but it’s been a while.” She stood again, her feet shoulder width apart and her arms crossed. “Do you have any ipecac around here? I think if we get you to puke, you might live.”
“No.” He shook his head.
“Then use your fingers, and don’t be shy.” She kicked a garbage pail in his direction. “I don’t know how much arsenic she put in your coffee, but the less of it in you, the better.” She moved behind him and freed his hands from the belt. “She must have really done a number on you.”
Instead of responding, he plunged his fingers
down his throat and leaned over the garbage can.
Taylor skipped to the hall fast. His gagging noises were enough to make her lose it as well.
“Better call for an ambulance too,” Taylor told Charlotte.
“They’re on their way.” Charlotte leaned on the wall, tears tracing down her cheeks.
The ambulance took Jack Groening away. He’d successfully vomited many times, but the paramedics didn’t look hopeful. Enough arsenic to kill was enough to kill and there was little they could do about it.
The sheriff himself took Sarah Harper away.
Deputies Maria and Reg took Ingrid Quinn.
Taylor and Charlotte followed, though they took the long way, stopping to get Charlotte’s phone from the brush.
“Are you going to press charges?” Taylor asked as Charlotte kicked around in the ferns for her iPhone.
“I should.”
“I can’t believe she did that.” Taylor shivered. The evening was descending and the cold, misty air smelled like snow again.
“Then you don’t know Ingrid Quinn very well.” Charlotte stood suddenly, one hand up in triumph. “Found it.”
“She was trying to catch a killer…”
“And Sarah.” Charlotte closed her eyes and had a moment of silence. “Sarah thought she was doing the right thing too. Motive doesn’t erase crime.”
“But what exactly was the crime? I mean Grandma Quinny’s crime,” Taylor asked as they got back in the car. “I asked you for help. You came willingly. Sorry the child safety locks were on…but would you have jumped while we were driving?”
“You know this was an abduction.”
Taylor was stiff. She was in pain. But she felt like the ends had justified the means. They had to have. Neither she nor her grandmother had hurt this woman.