Breaking the Chain (14 page)

* * * *

             
Justine stood quietly next to Mrs. Milliron as the last of the Garden Club members opened their umbrellas and hurried through the pouring rain to their cars. Although her outward appearance remained clam, her nerves felt like frayed bits of electrical wire, and it was all she could do to keep her knees from buckling.
             
Was Sadie really going to die? That didn't even bear thinking about. What will I do then, Justine wondered? How will I survive without my long-time friend for company? It was all she could do to hold back her tears, and for the first time in her life, she felt alone and afraid, unable to cope.
             
She looked around and realized that Mrs. Milliron had disappeared into the back of the house. The rattle of pots and pans from the kitchen echoed in the long hallway; suddenly aware of her surroundings, Justine wondered how long she'd been standing there, lost in thought.
             
Taking a deep breath, she forced rubbery legs to carry her into the den, and sank into the nearest chair. She allowed herself five minutes to wallow in despair, then forced her mind to try to grasp what was happening. One thing was clear. She had to find a way to save Sadie. It suddenly dawned on her that Mary and Jack would know what to do. They were young, smart.
             
This couldn't wait until morning; it was too important. She'd tell them as soon as they got back. Once they knew Sadie thought the brown man had been one of tonight's guests, they'd figure out a way to stop Sadie's vision from turning into a grim reality.
             
At least none of the visitors had stayed over, which meant that the brown man had left the premises. Only problem was, he was bound to return, and the next time he showed up, they might not be able to stop him. Maybe Sadie was right. Maybe they should make their peace with God. Now--before it was too late.

25
                    
 

             
Mary
and Jack waited in the car while Dykes hurried to collect his baggage. The rain had stopped for the moment, but a continuous rumble of thunder warned of a second deluge. When five, then ten minutes passed without Dykes returning, Mary became impatient.
             
"Why don't you go see what's keeping him?" she asked. "He should've been out by now."
             
Jack shifted uncomfortably. "Give him a few minutes, Mary. He hasn't been gone that long."
             
"How long does it take to grab a suitcase?"
             
"He's probably making sure everything's locked."
             
"What's to lock? There's one door on the plane, and one emergency exit in the hangar. This is ridiculous."
             
"You know, you're beginning to sound a lot like you aunt."
             
Startled, she shot upright. "That's a terrible thing to say. Besides, I don't think I'm being unreasonable. The man went to get a suitcase, not overhaul the engine. How long does it take to open the luggage compartment, grab a bag, and leave? Five, ten minutes? He's been gone almost twenty. Maybe something's happened to him. Maybe he slipped and fell. Have you thought about that?"
             
Jack unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door. "All right, already. I'll go check. Jeeze."
             
She leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Thanks, sweetie."
             
"It's a good thing I like you," Jack mumbled as he closed the door and strode over to the hangar door. He reappeared a few minutes later, carefully balancing two bags under each arm. Dykes followed, carrying two more. Jack groaned as he tossed the bags into the rear of the van, and Mary thought she heard the clunking of metal as the last of the suitcases were loaded.
             
What one earth was the man doing with five--no, make that six--suitcases? This was supposed to be an overnight trip, not a month's stay in Bermuda. Intrigued, she contained her curiosity until both men were buckled in.
             
"Okay, I give," she said. "What's with the six suitcases? Do you always pack a complete wardrobe? Something to fit every occasion?"
             
Dykes burst out laughing. "Not hardly. Only one's a suitcase. The rest are my tools. Since some of them cost over two hundred bucks a piece, I'm not about to leave them in the plane for somebody to swipe. Even with airport security, tools have a way of disappearing. I keep them in carrying cases so I can cart them with me whenever I need to."
             
"Oh, I see," she murmured, even though she didn't. "Well, they'll be safe at the plantation. We can lock them in the shed."
             
"Uh, appreciate the offer, but no thanks. I'd rather keep them in my room, if that's okay. Guess old habits die hard."
             
"No problem," Jack chimed in before Mary could complain. "I know what you mean. The last hammer I bought cost me fifteen bucks; I imagine your stuff would cost a fortune to replace."
             
"Yeah, something like that," Dykes agreed. "Uh, I don't mean to change the subject, but ever since you told me you found some kind of tunnel at the plantation, I've been dying to ask you about it. How big is it? Where does it lead?"
             
"We think it's part of the Underground Railroad slaves used during the Civil War," Jack explained. "The plantation must have been one of the hiding places runaway slaves used on their way up north. They probably hid in the tunnel during the day, then paddled up river under the cover of darkness. The river's about a hundred yards behind the house, so that makes sense. I stumbled across the tunnel opening last week when I was replacing the workshop floor," Jack explained. "Mary found one part of the tunnel about a year ago, but a big section of it had already caved in. Because it was under the house, our insurance company wanted it filled in. Said there was too much danger of the walls collapsing and somebody getting hurt. I think this is the other end, but I had to wait until we finished shoring it up before I could check it out. They were supposed to finish this afternoon, so with any luck, I can check it out in the morning. If you're really interested, maybe I'll let you take a look around."
             
"Jack, that's not such a great idea," Mary warned. "I don't think any of our guests should be allowed in the tunnel. It could be dangerous; Mr. Dykes might get hurt."
             
"Don't be a wet blanket, Mary," Dykes chimed in. "I'd love to check it out. If you're worried about my suing you, I'll sign a waiver of liability that says I entered the tunnel at my own risk, and you're not liable for any injuries or mishaps. Maybe there's something buried down there. Did you find anything in the other part? Gold, silver, hidden jewels?" Dykes teased.
             
"I wish. It was empty," Mary lied. "There's nothing buried there because slaves were the only ones who used it. They weren't allowed to own anything of value. We tried using a metal detector, but nothing showed up. More than likely Jack's tunnel will have the same results."
             
"Even if you don't find anything, the tunnel could still be a great draw for guests. It might even have some historical value," Dykes suggested. "You could 'spiff it up' and give tours."
             
"No way," Mary said vehemently. "As soon as Jack checks it out, we're going to have it filled in. It would be too easy for somebody to get hurt in there."
             
"Pity. Well, at least you can show your guests where the opening was, even if they can't go inside. That should make for some lively dinner discussions."
             
"Did we tell you we have a real Voodoo priestess staying with us?" Mary asked, adroitly switching the discussion to a safer topic. "Her name's Sadie, and she actually lived in the house until the owner died and his heirs put it up for sale. Now that it's been restored, she's come back for a visit."
             
Dykes leaned forward and grasped the back of Mary's seat. "No shit? Does she hold Voodoo rituals? Maybe we can sneak in and watch one. I hear they're something to see."
             
Mary shook her head. "Sorry to disappoint you, but Sadie's too old for Voodoo curses or spells. She just points her cane at people and mutters under her breath every now and then. It'll be interesting to see what you make of her." And vice versa, she muttered under her breath.
             
"Well, if she's too old to cast spells or issue curses, I guess I'm safe."
             
"As safe as anybody can be these days," Jack commented, remembering Sadie's warning about the brown man. "These days, it's the folks you don't know you have to watch out for. There's a lot of crazies running around."
             
"Yeah," Dykes agreed. "And the bad part is, they all look the same. Most of the time, you can't tell the good from the bad until it's too late."
             
"Yeah, well, at least you're safe," Mary teased. "No self-respecting bad guy would ever wear that outfit you have on."
             
Dykes chuckled. "My experience has been that most bad guys prefer black. Me, I hate black. I like to be surrounded by colorful clothes; my style matches my personality."
             
"Which is what?"
             
"Colorful, cunning, and a brilliant all-around-wonderful guy, of course."
             
When Jack tried to top Dykes in enumerating his own wonderful attributes, Mary shook her head in amazement. What a bunch of bologna those two were. She'd been dreading putting her aunt's pilot up at the plantation, but it was obvious her fears had been for naught. Dykes' quirky personality was like a breath of fresh air, and he and Jack seemed to be hitting it off. Maybe his being here wouldn't be so bad after all.

26
                    
             
 

             
Jack stood over the bed and tapped Mary's bare shoulder as she lay sleeping. "Wake up, sleepyhead. It's nearly eight o'clock."
             
She stirred, reflexively swatting at his hand. Opening one eye slightly, she fumbled for the alarm clock on the bedside table. "It's only seven-fifty. Ugh. What are you doing up so early? I thought we were going to sleep in."
             
Bending down, he planted a noisy kiss on her cheek. "I did. I only woke up about twenty minutes ago. You can go back to sleep if you want to, or..."
             
Her other eye opened and she rolled onto her back. "Or what? What are you up to, Jack?"
             
His eyes sparkled. "Nothing much. The workmen finished bolstering the tunnel last night. I can't wait to check it out. Wanna come with me to see what's down there?"
             
She scrambled out of bed and draped a sheet around her naked body. "If I have to. You're not going down there alone. Give me a few minutes to get a shower, and I'll meet you downstairs."
             
He grinned. "I thought you'd want to be there for the grand unveiling."
             
She glanced over her shoulder as she padded into the bathroom. "I hate to spoil your fun, but I really hope there's nothing down there."
             
"You're probably right. But, I intend to check it out from top to bottom, just to make sure. Did I tell you I bought a really cool metal detector while you were gone? I can't wait to use it; it'll be great for locating gold, silver, large relics--even mineral deposits. Not to mention any jewelry that's buried."
             
She leaned against the doorframe. "You sound like a walking advertisement. What happened to the metal detector we already had? Was it broken?"
             
"That old thing? It was kid's stuff. I traded it on the new one."
             
"I see. Just how much did this new metal detector cost?"
             
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I got a really great buy on it. It was on sale with a four hundred dollar discount, plus I got an eighty dollar trade-in for our old one. Ended up costing me about a thousand bucks, but I figure that once we're done, we can let our guests putter around with it."
             
"What?" she gasped. "Have you lost your mind? A thousand bucks for a stupid metal detector!"
             
His eyebrows shot up. "Don't have a stroke, Mary. Some metal detectors cost over three thousand dollars; we got off cheap on this one. I've been saving my 'stash' money for months, and I had just enough to cover it. Besides, we can probably write it off as a business expense if we let our customers use it while they're staying with us. We can turn it into a fun attraction for guests."
             
Mary adjusted her sheet, which was slipping. "I can't believe you did that without talking to me, Jack, even if it did come out of your own money." She sighed, then shook her head. "Just do me one favor, okay? Next time you get a wild hair across your butt to buy something like that, would you mind discussing it with me before you spend the money? Just as a courtesy?"
             
He grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, babe. I've wanted one of these puppies for quite a while. The kind we got is the best one they make. Top of the line. I couldn't believe it when I walked into the hardware store and found it marked it down four hundred bucks. I thought it was a mistake, so I asked about it. The manager told me it was the last one he had and he's not bringing in any more to sell because they're too expensive; they don't turn over fast enough. No real profit in stocking them. That's why it was so cheap. I grabbed it up before anybody else could. It was too good a buy to miss."
             
Mary listened to the excitement in Jack's voice, and was reminded of the old saying about men and their toys. What was it about mechanical gadgets that turned otherwise intelligent men into excited little spendthrift boys? At least Jack paid for it out of his stash money and not their savings account. He could have done something a lot worse, and it was obvious he couldn't take the gadget back for a refund. Realizing it was futile to create a full-blown argument about his buying the metal detector, she schooled her frown into a small smile. Not big enough for Jack to think he was off the hook, but friendly enough for him to realize that she wasn't going to belabor the point any further. "You surprised me, that's all. I wasn't expecting you to spend a thousand bucks for a metal detector."
             
"I'm sorry, baby. I promise to talk to you before I buy anything else. Okay?"
             
"Okay." She brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. "Have we heard from the hospital about Elizavon's condition this morning?"
             
"No. Nobody's called, so I guess no news is good news."
             
"Maybe. I'll give them a call when I get downstairs. Is anybody else up?"
             
"Sadie, Justine, and Mrs. Milliron. Haven't seen or heard from Dykes since we got back last night."
             
"What about Dykes? You aren't going to let him go down there, are you?"
             
He shook his head. "Not right now. I want to check it out first. If everything looks okay, I'll probably give him a quick tour." He held up his hand as she started to protest. "Before you say anything, it all depends on what we find this morning. If it's nasty, he won't go. If it's a no brainer, I'll give him a quick walk-through to satisfy his curiosity before he takes it into his head to go down there on his own. You wouldn't want that to happen, would you?"
             
"No. Just make sure he signs a release before he goes anywhere. I don't want him suing us if he gets hurt. A lawsuit's the last thing we need right now; we just couldn't afford it."
             
"Don't worry. I'll make sure we get it in writing."
             
"With any luck he'll sleep in until we're done. That would make life a lot easier."
             
"Well, if you don't get a move on, we'll never get started," he teased, then grinned when she stuck out her tongue. Laughing, he closed the door and started down the stairs, sniffing appreciatively when he encountered the smell of cooked bacon. Mrs. Milliron must be cooking breakfast. His stomach rumbled and his mouth watered as he followed the enticing aromas emanating from the kitchen.
             
Justine and Sadie sat at the small table near the kitchen window, sipping coffee and talking while Mrs. Milliron deftly stirred the contents of three skillets.
             
"Morning," Jack announced. "Mind if I join you?"
             
Sadie looked up and her somber face broke into a smile. "You more than welcome to sit with us."
             
He nodded and turned slightly so he could ease behind her chair to pour a cup of coffee.
             
"Mmmm, mmmmm. I might be from the North, ladies, but I love the smell of Mrs. Milliron's coffee and chicory first thing in the morning." He poured a cup, then turned. "Anybody need a refill?"
             
Sadie glanced toward the hallway. "Where's Mary got to?"
             
"She'll be down in a couple of minutes." He glanced over at Mrs. Milliron and flashed her a cheeky grin. "You aren't by any chance cooking breakfast, are you?"
             
She waved her spatula across the sizzling pans. "What'll you have?"
             
"Whatever you're cooking's fine, Mrs. Milliron. Smells terrific. You're the best cook in the county."
             
"Best cook in the parish," she corrected. "I might not be a fancy schmancy restaurant chef, but I do know how to cook simple food," she said with a self-satisfied grin. "If I do say so myself."
             
"Morning everybody," Mary said as she strode into the room. She went to the refrigerator and poured a glass of orange juice. Tilting her head, she sniffed the heady aromas that filled the large kitchen. "Mrs. Milliron, you aren't by any chance spoiling Jack again, are you?"
             
"You're just jealous because she likes me more than you," Jack teased as he heaped food onto his plate. "She's even made extra thick sausage gravy just the way I like it."
             
"You're too good to him, Mrs. Milliron. We're lucky to have someone like you working for us," Mary said as she pulled out a chair and sat next to Sadie.
             
She wrapped a comforting arm around the old black woman's shoulders. "How are you this morning?" she asked. "Justine told me what happened last night." She lightly squeezed the old woman's arthritic fingers. "Have you felt anything else about the brown man?"
             
Sadie shook her head. "No, damn it. I just knows he's close by. I think he was one of them folks last night, but I ain't sure."
             
"We're here to protect you from whatever this brown man has in mind," Mary said. "I'm not about to let anything happen to you."
             
Sadie shook her head, and covered Mary's hand with hers. "What's to be, will be. There's nothing you or me can do to change things. I done seen it. It's gonna happen no matter what we do." She stood up and hobbled toward the back door. "I think I'll sit outside for a spell and smell the flowers. The sunshine makes my old bones feel good."
             
Mary watched her go with worried eyes. When the door closed behind Sadie, she turned to Justine and lowered her voice. "Did she say anything else? Does she have any idea at all who he might be?"
             
Justine cast a glance at Mrs. Milliron, who was stacking dishes in the dishwasher on the other side of the kitchen. "No, but I think Sadie knows more than she's telling. She locked herself in her room last night and wouldn't even open the door for me," Justine said in a voice barely above a whisper. "I think from the way she's acting, whatever's going to happen will occur soon." She paused, then continued. "Maybe she and I ought to leave now, while we can. Maybe if we go home, she'll forget about all this and everything will be fine."
             
Mary rested her fork on the edge of her plate. "I've already thought about that, but I didn't want you to think we wanted to get rid of you. Do you think she'd go? If so, I'll be glad to buy your tickets. I don't want anything to happen to either one of you. You're like family now and we love both of you."
             
Two tears rolled down Justine's cheek and she brushed them away. "I don't know. I'm going to talk to her and see what she says."
             
"Let me know what you decide," Mary said. "It's your decision. You're both welcome to stay as long as you want. Jack and I will do everything we can to keep you both safe."
             
"Yes, we will," Jack chimed in softly. "I've even bought a new pistol to keep in our bedroom, and both Mary and I are excellent shots," he said in a confident tone. "All that target shooting we've been doing might just pay off. If that brown man even shows his face, he's going to be in for the fight of his life."