A Memory Worth Dying For (31 page)

The crowd went wild. Everyone was talking at once.

Through the uproar, Marti glanced back at Veronica’s stunned face. She could feel the electricity in the air, and she didn’t want to be around when Veronica blew up. She grabbed her purse from the floor and made her way to the doors on the other side of the auditorium, trying to stay as far away from the arguing Daniel and Veronica as possible. When she pushed the door, she realized it was locked. The only way outside was through the door behind Veronica and Daniel. She saw Veronica stand at full stature and glare at Daniel. Marti spied the restroom sign and crept into the open hallway leading to the restrooms. She could hear Veronica’s voice as plain as if she were standing next to her.

“Daniel, what do you think you’re doing? You know how I feel about your bidding on a painting
she
created. Why did you do something so offensive—something you knew would upset me?”

“Nikki, I bid on a beautiful painting. It matches the one in my room at home, and I have plans to hang it on the opposite wall.”

Daniel spoke to Veronica in strained tones until Veronica straightened her shoulders and looked into his eyes. “We planned on moving the painting in your room, remember?”

“No,
you
planned on moving the painting. I never agreed. I like that painting, and I like this one. I’m keeping both of them—in my bedroom. End of discussion.”

“Daniel, either you give that painting right back to the auction immediately, or I’ll have to tell my father you’re being untrue to our relationship.”

Daniel stiffened, and his lips thinned to a tiny line. Peeking around the corner of the open doorway, Marti could see the hesitancy in his stance. He was “between the devil and the deep blue sea,” as Sandra always said. Marti actually felt sorry for him.

He put both hands on Veronica’s shoulders and leaned in close. “Veronica, compromise is a big part of any relationship. I’ve let you decorate my bedroom in any way you wanted, but I want this painting. I don’t really care who the artist is or how much I had to pay for it. You can tell your father anything you want, but I intend to keep the painting.”

Veronica’s eyes filled with tears, and she shrugged his hands off her shoulders. In two seconds she was out the door and had disappeared down the hallway.

Marti watched Daniel rub his forehead and turn back toward the crowd. She slipped out of the hallway and through the outside door. Outside the auditorium, she leaned against the wall. Listening to the fight between Daniel and Veronica made her stomach clench. Was she doing the right thing?

FIFTY-NINE

“LISTEN TO ME CAREFULLY. IT
has to be done exactly like I tell you so they’ll think the wildfire jumped the firebreak and consumed the shed. You’ll have to tie her with soft rope that will burn in the fire, and make sure the gasoline starts the woods on fire as well. If the fire works toward the wildfire and toward the shed, it’ll look like she got caught in the middle of the fire with no way out. She went to the shed for protection and got trapped. Understand?”

“Yeah, but I thought the wildfire turned away from that shed.”

“It did, but if you spread gasoline through the woods all the way to the burned out section of property, they’ll think the sparks jumped the firebreak and burned toward the shed. Those old gasoline cans have been stored around that shed for years. They won’t think anything about them being there. If there’s not enough gas in the old cans, there are more stored at the end of the stable. I saw them the other day. Just don’t get caught. Do you understand the plan?”

“Yeah. I understand. How much are you paying me this time?”

“Paying you? I’ve already paid you more than you’re worth. Just do it, and I won’t go to the sheriff with what I know about your past.”

“Are you blackmailing me?”

“Of course not. It’s not blackmail; it’s a promise. You either do what I ask, or there’s a prison cell with your name on it.”

“You can’t scare me. If I go to prison, you’ll be right there beside me. You forget—I know things about you now as well.”

“Yeah? I’d like to see you prove it. It’s your word against mine.”

“Phone calls are traceable, idiot. All I have to do is tell them you called me, and they’ll be able to prove it with the phone records.”

“You think I’m stupid? I bought this throw-away phone out of state with cash, and it’s not traceable.”

The phone line went silent.

“Now, are you going to do what I ask? Or, am I going to make the next call to the sheriff’s office?”

“All right. I’ll do it, but this is it. After this job, we’re through. Don’t call me again, or I’ll turn you in and hang the consequences.”

After that promise, he hung up the phone and balled his hands into fists. If he knew a way to get that lying, greedy, no-good . . . A thought worked its way into his mind. If he planned it right, he could make it look like murder instead of an accident, and he could frame his no-good blackmailer for the murder. Every little detail had to be perfect.

Yeah, he could do this. All he had to do was a little bit of planning, and he’d be able to “kill two birds with one stone,” he thought with a chuckle. That not being able to verify their connection worked both ways. His blackmailer wouldn’t be able to prove he’d paid him to do his dirty work either.

He threw his phone into his truck and jumped into the driver’s seat. If he wanted to catch her by herself, he’d have to get going. He had work to finish before the auction was over. Then he’d have to come up with an air-tight alibi.

He’d have to plan every little detail before he set the fire. Maybe put something incriminating at the scene before the fire was started to make sure his blackmailer was placed at the scene. What could he plant? Ah! He had the perfect thing. Now to get the shed ready, then on to pick up little Miss Artist.

Everything was going to work out fine.

SIXTY

MARTI GATHERED UP HER EQUIPMENT
outside the auditorium and packed her paint and brushes into her tote bag.

While she worked, several emotions fought a battle inside her. Tenderness toward Daniel for his five thousand dollar bid on her painting brought tears to her eyes. What a great boost for the orphanage, and how special it made her feel. Then anger at Veronica’s ultimatum took over her thoughts. Veronica tried to force Daniel to return the painting or suffer her consequences. How dare she make threats! Tell her father, indeed!

Marti was sticking in the last of her brushes when she heard someone calling her name.

Skyler and Cynthia came running toward her.

“Are you leaving, Marti? We saw you leave the auditorium.”

“Yeah. I guess I’m headed back to the ranch.”

Skyler leaned her head to the side and gazed into the sky with dreamy eyes. “Wasn’t that sweet what Daniel did? Bidding so high on your painting? And he doesn’t even remember who you are. I think it’s so romantic.”

Cynthia nodded. “Yeah, Marti. He must still love you, or he wouldn’t have defied Veronica like that in front of the whole town.”

Marti leaned against the building. “Listen, you guys. Don’t go jumping to conclusions. Just because Daniel liked the painting and wanted to help out the orphanage by bidding so high doesn’t mean he still has feelings for me. He’s made it perfectly clear—he wants to marry Veronica. I’m going home and finish his portrait, then get in my little rental car and leave.” She looked at their sad faces. “I’m sorry, my friends. I know you miss our friendship. I miss it too, but I can’t be here for the wedding. I don’t think my heart could take it. Now, please, I hate long goodbyes.”

“We understand, sugar. But we’ll miss you bunches.”

Both Cynthia and Skyler gave her one last hug and told her to keep in touch.

When her friends went back into the auditorium, Marti slid the handle of her tote over her shoulder along with her purse, grabbed the handle of the portable easel, and turned toward her car. In her dream world, she was basking in the feeling of joy over the words Daniel had said about her. He had stood up for her. But that’s all it was—a dream.

By the time she reached the car, the noise from the auditorium had faded, and she realized how alone she actually was. The hairs on her arm stood to attention.

“Stop being so paranoid, Marti. Zach was your stalker, remember?”

Nervousness worked its way into her heart, and she glanced around her—still not able to shake the feeling that someone was watching her. She fumbled for her keys and tried to find the key that opened the lock. When she realized she had pulled out the ring containing her apartment keys, she scrambled in her purse again for the set of rental keys.

A couple of steps shuffled behind her.

Terror made her heart race and circled in her throat, making it hard to breathe. Before she could turn around and see who was behind her, a hand slipped around her face and pressed a cloth over her nose and mouth. She was pulled against a hard body, and her arms were pinned to her side.

She tried to scream, but the cloth muffled the sound. Even as she kicked and struggled, a sweet smell infiltrated her lungs and everything around her gradually faded into nothing.

SIXTY-ONE

GERALD SAT FOR A LONG
time on the hay after Brent and Amber pulled out in the police cruiser. He felt as if his world had been turned upside down. How could he live with the pain he had caused others? He leaned against the barn and closed his eyes. The warmth of the sun caressed his face while he tried to pray.

“Lord, this is something I can’t handle by myself. If all these things are true, then Mary took Marti’s baby and left her with one that . . . Please, Lord, help them find the proof they need, and help us show Marti the love we should have shown her three years ago.”

Gerald stood up and walked around the exercise path he created for the horses—his mind trying to grasp all the ramifications if these facts were true. Marti’s baby was alive and being raised by Veronica and Shane. What about the other accusations Mary had made? Horrible memories exploded in his thoughts of things he and Daniel had accused Marti of on the day she left the ranch.

He had to find Marti. He couldn’t tell her what he’d heard until he knew the facts, but he wanted to make sure she knew she was loved and wanted. Daniel might not remember his love for Marti, but Gerald remembered how much she had loved Daniel and how happy she had made him. They were meant to be together and would be together still if evil had not stepped through the door.

Gerald walked back toward the barn and entered the tack room door. When he stepped inside the door, he heard a voice coming from one of the stalls at the end of the aisle.

Was it Daniel?

He turned toward the door that opened into the walkway between stalls when the voice became louder.

“I said I got her. She’s tied up in the old equipment shed down by the river. I tied her to some old well pipes buried in the ground. There’s no way she can get loose.”

Gerald froze.

“Nobody saw anything. I grabbed her as she was packing up her car after the auction. No one else was in the parking lot.”

There was a pause in the conversation, and Gerald strained to hear the rest.

“I said, where are the gas cans? The ones behind the shed only held a drop or two. I’m at the stable. Okay. I’ll check. As soon as I find them, I’ll start the fire. The wildfire’s already burned close to that shed, so it’ll look like it all burned at the same time. I’ll let you know when it’s done.”

Gerald heard the man close his phone. Footsteps came toward the tack room. Gerald ducked behind the wooden shelf containing salt and mineral blocks and bent low to the ground. His heart was racing.

He heard the outside door of the barn creak open and slam.

Gerald remained still—afraid to move in case the man was still in the stable.

Who was he? His voice was too low to recognize, but it sounded vaguely familiar. And, were they talking about Marti? She had been at the art auction. What was it he had said . . . she was tied in the equipment shed? And he was starting a fire?

Suddenly, all the things Marti had tried to tell him came to mind—the truck following her from Tennessee, the intruder smothering her in bed, the arrows, the bomb—it all made sense now. Brent said Zach couldn’t be her stalker, but someone was trying to kill her. Was it because of Chris?

The reason didn’t matter. He had to find Daniel. He had to get help.

He reached for his phone, but it wasn’t in his pocket. He must have left it in the office. Adrenaline pumped through his legs as he rushed around the shelf to get to the office. In his eagerness, his shoe caught on the corner of the shelf, and he tripped. His ankle twisted, and he fell headlong into a row of wheelbarrows propped against the wall. Twisting his body to avoid a hard fall into the wheelbarrows, he glanced off the first wheelbarrow and slammed against the cement floor. The wheelbarrows toppled like dominoes into the wooden shelf. He turned in time to see the shelf teeter and slowly fall toward him. Mineral blocks sprinkled around him and fell like thuds on his unprotected body. When the shelf was emptied of its contents, it too fell forward and landed in a burst of agony on his legs. Gerald cried out in pain and felt blackness closing in around him.

“Lord, help,” he whispered before he lost consciousness.

SIXTY-TWO

BELLS WERE RINGING IN HER
head, and when she moved the bells turned into trumpets. She tried to rub her forehead with her right hand, but it felt lethargic and heavy. A hard cold metal strained against her wrist.

Slowly, she opened her eyes.

What she saw made her gasp.

A steel chain was wrapped several times around her hands and connected to another chain binding her ankles together. She could only move an inch or two. The end of the chains holding her was wrapped around a metal pipe that disappeared down a hole in the middle of the floor. The floor underneath her head was dirt, packed with age and as hard as the chains. Waves of panic pounded through her temples, and she fought the sick feeling churning in her stomach.