Carbs & Cadavers (23 page)

When she returned, she was driving a wheelbarrow filled with long steel bars. “My daddy was in construction, so I figured a few of these would be hanging around here. See, they go into the cement in the foundation for extra support. Tonight, however, they will be supporting you three on your descent to the bottom of the lake.”

As James watched in stupefied terror, Rachel gathered several steel bars and began taping them to Lucy’s body using another roll of duct tape.

“You won’t get away with this!” Lucy screamed in panic.

Amelia started screaming as well. James thought surely someone must be able to hear them. He tugged at his arms again, but it was no use—he couldn’t get them free. Rachel had finished with Lucy and had begun to attach the long rods to Amelia, who wriggled around as best as she could until Rachel slapped her hard on the cheek. “Stop it!” she commanded, and Amelia sagged against the poles, her face crumpling as tears dropped from her chin onto the dock.

“Almost done,” Rachel said jauntily to James as she wrapped four bars around his chest. She acted as if she were casually pruning a rose bush or frosting a cake. “Just remember, you two brought this on yourselves. If you hadn’t snooped around in other people’s business, you’d be home having dinner by now.” She shrugged. “But at least the fishes will get a real good meal out of two of you.”

Howling with laughter at her own joke, Rachel grabbed onto a pylon for support. Still clinging to it, she turned to Lucy. “Any last words?” she asked, untying their ropes and raising her leg in preparation to kick Lucy forward into the water.

“Wait!” James shouted. “Push me first!”

Lucy began to sob quietly, moved by James’s plea and the hopelessness of their situation.

“How sweet.” Rachel turned to him. “Fine, Romeo. Here goes.” She raised her leg.

James closed his eyes and prepared to hit the water, but the kick to his back never came. He opened his eyes tentatively and saw Rachel staring back up the hill toward the house. A collection of flashing blue lights and blaring sirens broke through the silent darkness.

“Shit.” Rachel looked around her for an escape. She headed for the small motorboat elevated above the water beneath a tin awning and ripped the cover from it. Frantically working the controls, she began to lower the boat into the water.

Hurried footsteps thumped down the hill. “Freeze!” A man’s voice ordered loudly.

Two uniformed policeman aimed their guns at Rachel as they sprinted up the dock. She ignored them and hopped in the boat, unfastening the stern line.

“Put your hands in the air! We will not ask again!”

Rachel turned the key in the ignition with one hand and pointed her gun back at James with her other hand.

“Try to stop me and I shoot him,” she hissed.

The cops exchanged silent signals. Moving like lightning, the one closest to James leapt sideways and pushed him to the floor of the dock. The second cop jumped down into the boat and wrestled for Rachel’s gun. A shot rang out and James heard the bullet tear a splintering hole into the side of the wooden pylon where he had just been standing.

Tossing Rachel’s gun onto the dock, the officer cuffed her within seconds and shoved her face down onto the wooden surface.

“Ow!” Rachel complained and began to giggle uncontrollably. “I think I got splinter.”

Two more officers helped untie James, Lucy, and Amelia. James gathered both women in his arms and they sank to their knees, weak with relief. Lucy’s hands were shaking as her fingers clung to the fabric of his shirt.

A third set of footsteps came pounding up the dock. James looked up to see Lindy racing toward them, her flesh jiggling wildly as she ran. Sheriff Huckabee and Deputy Glenn Truett were following behind her at a more leisurely pace. James also caught a glimpse of Bennett and Gillian lumbering down the hill as quickly as possible.

“James! Lucy!” Lindy cried out. “Amelia!” She hugged all three of them. “Thank God you’re all right!”

The little group held one another until Gillian and Bennett joined them and more embraces were exchanged.

“What are you doing here?” James finally asked, watching as Gillian wiped tears from her face.

“After Lindy and Lucy talked on the phone earlier, we figured that Lucy was going to go after Allison, so we called the sheriff, who was back from questioning Whitney.” Bennett glanced over his shoulder at Huckabee, who was chatting with a member of the police force. “He already had plans to go out to Shilling’s Stables. We begged him to go right away and asked to go along. Surprisingly, he listened to us. We filled him in on everything we knew in the car.”

“He never responded when we were finished.” Gillian looked at Lucy worriedly. “I’m not sure how he’s going to react when this all settles down.”

Lucy looked at Gillian and smiled. “Right now, I’m not too concerned about what those guys think.”

“Come on.” Lindy gestured toward the hill. “Let’s get out of here.”

“How did the cops end up finding out about the lake house?” James asked Bennett as they headed toward the cluster of law enforcement cars.

“Allison told them.” Bennett eyed Rachel Shilling as she was shut in the rear of one of the police cars. “She didn’t want to at first, but I think she figured out that her mama had a screw comin’ loose tonight. Plus, Sheriff Huckabee was
very
persuasive. Never mess with a man with an impressive mustache. That’s my motto.” Bennett grinned and smoothed his own neat mustache. “We were only a few miles behind you guys. After all, it’s mighty tough to speed in a horse trailer.”

“Come on folks, we’ll give y’all a lift back to Quincy’s Gap,” Deputy Truett offered with a friendly wave toward his brown patrol car.

“Thank you,” Lucy replied. Amelia and James climbed in the back. Glenn held open the passenger door for Lucy.

“Y’all hungry?” Glenn asked. “I got some beef jerky up here. Didn’t get a chance to grab any supper before we headed out to the Shillings’ place,” he added apologetically.

“I’ll take a piece,” James said. “Thanks a bunch.”

Leaning back against the worn leather seats, James allowed his tense body to relax a bit as he took a bite of the jerky. He wasn’t hungry, but chewing on the hickory-flavored and heavily salted meat helped his whirling mind slow down.

“James,” Lucy began, turning around in the front seat and looking tenderly at him. “Thanks for what you did back there . . . trying to give me those few extra minutes.” Her eyes grew moist. “I treated you terribly when what I really feel is totally the opposite.”

James couldn’t think of anything to say. He was too exhausted from their ordeal, so he simply smiled in return and then allowed the rhythm of the moving car to lull him back to a sense of normalcy. Sighing, James glanced out the window, searching for the moon. As if beckoned, it burst out from the thin streaks of cloud surrounded by a sprinkling of stars. The warm light fell on Amelia’s sleeping face and brightened the swath of highway all the way to the mountains. It was like a welcoming path leading those who had lost their way back home.

The Flab Five
spent the remainder of the week making statements to the state police regarding their knowledge of Rachel Shilling’s dealings in murder and kidnapping. Afterwards, they also had to offer and sign similar statements for the Sheriff’s Department in Quincy’s Gap.

“This jurisdiction stuff can get confusing,” Lucy explained one morning as James and Bennett waited outside the sheriff’s office for their turn to complete paperwork. “The state police handled the incident at Lake Anna, as that fell in their jurisdiction, but Brinkley’s murder is still the responsibility of our department.” She smiled wanly. “That is, if I can still include myself as a member of this department once Sheriff Huckabee gets done with me.”

“Have you already made your statement?” Bennett asked, popping a handful of macadamia nuts into his mouth.

“I came in earlier this morning. Figured I’d get it over with,” Lucy said, nonplussed.

“And how did he seem?” James wondered.

Lucy shook her head. “Dunno. Kind of, just businesslike. I think he’s waiting to get all his chickens in a row before he dresses me down.”

Bennett stood and began pacing the hallway. “Well, you’re taking the waiting part mighty well. I feel like a criminal just being here.” He checked his watch. “I don’t think I’ve had to miss my afternoon route since I started working for the USPS.”

Lucy looked at James as she answered Bennett. “I
do
feel nervous about keeping this job, but there are more important things in this life than becoming a deputy. Even if I get fired, I’ll find something else to do.” She stapled a stack of paperwork and laid it aside for filing. “Still, I’d miss it here. This desk is kind of the heart of this place. All of the information passes through me and I’ve always felt useful, even if I’ve never been ‘one of the guys.’”

At that moment, the door to Huckabee’s office opened and Lindy came bustling out. She looked especially peppy, and she embraced Bennett and James as if she hadn’t seen them for weeks.

“Jesus, Lindy!” Bennett choked in the midst of her fierce embrace. “It’s only been two days since you last squeezed my organs to pulp.”

“I know!” Lindy cried. “But I can’t stop thinking about how our little group almost shrunk in size . . . and I don’t mean ’cause we’re losing weight!”

She would have hugged James next, but Huckabee called him in to make his statement.

“Into the lion’s den,” James muttered warily, drawing his hand across his throat in a mock slicing gesture.

“Oh, he’s just a big teddy bear,” Lindy said cheerily. “Nothing to worry about.”

Lindy was right. Huckabee was the model of courtesy and directness. He asked his questions emotionlessly and James completed his lengthy statement within thirty minutes.

“May I ask you a question, Sheriff?” James blurted out after signing several documents. Without waiting for an answer he said, “There are some loose ends about this whole thing that I can’t work out, like how did Rachel Shilling find out about the blackmail and why did she try to kill Whitney? That girl was no threat to her.”

Huckabee examined a paperweight in the shape of a cowboy boot on his desk and seemed to be pondering whether or not to satisfy James’s curiosity. Finally, he shrugged and said, “Rachel found a note in Allison’s room that was written by Brinkley. Apparently, she had been pokin’ around in her daughter’s drawers lookin’ to see if she had any more drugs stashed around. Once she read the note, she knew that Brinkley was gonna be at the diner. Allison was supposed to give him a payment before the game that night. She never did, but Rachel went to the diner. She had no problem slippin’ the drug into her own soda. She then squeezed in some lemon and switched hers with Brinkley’s. She was sittin’ at the next booth over and asked to borrow some napkins. Apparently, that’s when she did the switch. The boys were all so busy talkin’ football that they never noticed.”

Deputy Truett jumped in. “As far as Whitney goes, Rachel said she didn’t want a single soul knowin’ about why Allison was kicked out of school. Allison told her mama that Whitney and Amelia were the only ones who knew the reason and could keep a secret. Apparently, she was lying ’cause she told Brinkley about it right after she started up at Blue Ridge High. Seems like the two of them dated for a while during their senior year. Brinkley never forgot that useful tidbit about Allison’s drug problem and when he noticed her hangin’ around with that senator’s son, he made his move to earn some easy cash.”

“And that’s why Rachel needed to kidnap Amelia.” James nodded his head as the pieces fell into place. “Amelia was the last person who could ruin Allison’s future marriage by spilling the truth about her friend’s drug problem. Thank you, gentlemen.” He smiled. “I appreciate you sharing that information with me so candidly. I think not knowing the details would have kept me up at night.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Huckabee said flatly.

As James stood to leave, Huckabee turned to Deputy Truett and said, “Glenn, can you make a copy of that for Mr. Henry to sign? I’d like a moment alone with him.”

James swallowed hard and sat back down.

“I hear you’re going to be offering some computer courses at the library,” Huckabee began, pouring himself a cup of coffee from a thermos. He held out the thermos to James but James politely declined. Even though his mouth was bone dry, he wanted to complete his interview with Huckabee and get back to work.

“Yes, sir.” James shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Mostly basic stuff, like word processing, using e-mail, and Internet surfing.”

“I’ve got a couple of deputies who have never had any kind of training and they’ve been making a mess of our reports. You see, we’ve got everything online now in shared files, but these boys can’t all figure out how to access these files, let alone contribute to them.” He stroked his mustache thoughtfully. “One of the things I learned from this Shilling business is that our men need to be aware of
all
the important information involving our cases as it comes in. Do you think they would benefit from your course?”

James stared at Huckabee’s wide face with its luxurious mustache and tried not to picture him basking on a rock while flapping a pair of wet flippers. “Absolutely. We’re planning on adding a course on web page development as well. Miss Hanover expressed an interest in developing one for the department.”

Huckabee smiled and resumed petting his mustache. “That would be just fine.” He rose and held out a wide hand. Gripping James’s hand like an iron clamp, Huckabee added, “And next time your little group gets together, I would like to suggest that you stick to safer topics like books or recipes. Understand? We actually know what we’re doin’ in this department, so how about leavin’ the crime solvin’ up to us?” Huckabee’s eyes bored into James. He clearly expected no argument.

“Fair enough,” James said, averting his gaze. Relieved at receiving such a mild reprimand, he reclaimed his throbbing hand and made a hasty escape.

On Sunday, it was finally Gillian’s turn to host the supper club. She had written them all an e-mail earlier in the week telling them not to bring any food to her house as she was planning a little celebration in honor of the capture of Rachel Shilling and the end to Quincy’s Gap’s greatest mystery.

Before meeting his friends, James stopped at Dolly’s Diner late Sunday afternoon to pick up a chicken pot pie for his father’s dinner. The three Livingstones were sitting at the counter in the nearly empty diner, enjoying steaming cups of hot chocolate smothered by fluffy coils of whipped cream and massive slices of apple crumb pie.

“Hello, Professor!” Dolly hooted as she burst through the swinging doors leading to the kitchen. “Come in here and take a load off. You poor darlin’! We’ve been worried sick about you and Miss Hanover and Whitney’s little friend . . .”

“Amelia,” Whitney said.

“Right, Megan’s gal.” Dolly grabbed a mug and the coffee pot and pointed to one of the counter stools. She was almost salivating as she waited for James to give her every detail of his kidnapping ordeal. Even though James wanted to make a hasty escape, he just couldn’t take his eyes off of the slices of apple crumb pie, plus he was too fond of Dolly to deny her a firsthand account of his trials. He knew she couldn’t wait to tell her customers a highly embellished version over the next few days.

“You should sue Shilling’s Stables!” Dolly exclaimed when James finally finished his lengthy narrative. He realized that she was directing her suggestion at the Livingstones.

“You probably
could
sue for damages, in civil court that is,” James said, turning to Beau. “The criminal trial will come first I guess.”

Dolly’s eyes lit up. “I reckon you could get enough to pay off your medical bills
and
Whitney’s schooling.”

Beau shook his head. “We’d never sue those folks. That family has got enough trouble comin’ its way without us addin’ our two cents in.”

“Yeah, poor Allison,” Whitney added. “She had problems even before she found out her mother was one can short of a six-pack.”

“By ‘before,’ you mean problems the drugs?” James asked.

“And with her mama, too,” Caroline said, staring at a piece of golden brown piecrust mournfully. “Rachel was so focused on her daughter marrying into a big-shot family that she ended up causing the poor girl a whole lotta heartache instead.”

Whitney sighed. “I think that’s why Allison started on drugs in the first place. It seemed like everything she did was wrong in her mom’s eyes. She didn’t study hard enough at that fancy private school and when we were friends in high school, Allison never wanted us to hang out at her house. She said she couldn’t take her mom’s nagging.” She put her good arm around her mother’s shoulders. “I’m glad you love me for me, mom.”

Caroline beamed. “Well, you make it pretty easy, sugar. Who could ask for a better child?”

James absently stirred his coffee as envy bubbled up inside his stomach. He could barely have a conversation with his father and he certainly couldn’t recall the last time they had exchanged a handshake, let alone an embrace. It would be nice to have the family unity the Livingstones had for just a fraction of the time.

“Here’s your pot pie.” Dolly handed James a paper bag. “I threw in a fat piece of banana cake. No charge. Your Pa must be getting as skinny as you are with that diet you’re on and he used to love my banana cake.” Dolly patted James on the cheek as if he were a little boy. “You’re a good son, Professor. You just keep working on your pa. He’ll come around. He loved your mama a powerful lot, so it’s gonna take him some time.”

James wondered if Dolly was a mind reader as he gathered the takeout bag in his hands. “Thanks, Dolly.” Her words immediately comforted him and the warmth of her smile was like a blanket placed around his cold shoulders.

As he turned to leave, the Livingstones stood and Caroline enfolded him in a hug. James accepted her embrace, awkwardly, as he balanced the bag in one hand and reached out to her with his other.

“We’re mighty glad you came back to our town, Professor,” Beau said. “You’ve done nothin’ but good since you got here.”

James drove home with a full heart. Jackson was locked up in the shed as usual, so James left him a note taped to the fridge about heating up the pot pie. As he gathered up his car keys once again, James spied his father’s toolbox on top of the kitchen counter. As far as James was aware, Jackson hadn’t touched a tool since his hardware store was sold years ago. There were no signs of a current fix-it project, but James felt hopeful simply seeing the toolbox. Opening the lid, it was clear that Jackson had meticulously cleaned off every tool within. Perhaps his father was beginning to reclaim a bit of his old life. Using his long-neglected tools would be a step in the right direction. Even if it were only a tiny step forward, James would revel in the slightest sign of improvement.