Hide in Plain Sight (16 page)

Nick. She crawled back to him, grabbed his arms, and dragged him toward the wall. No time now to worry that she was injuring him further. If she didn’t get them some air, they would die.

Adrenaline pulsing, she ran her hand along the joint, feeling the slightest crack between the boards. Big enough to wedge the bar in? Her fingers seemed to have grown stupid along with her brain. It took three tries before she forced the bar in.

Wiggle it, shove it, find something to hit it with—but there she ran out of luck. There was nothing loose in the room sturdy enough to hit the bar. She’d have to keep wiggling it, trying to force it through to the outside, but her mind was fogging again.

Ironic. She’d filled up the slight crack with the pry bar, cutting off whatever air might come through.

Give me strength, Lord. Help me. I know You’re here with me. I know whatever You intend is right. But I can’t stop trying, can’t stop fighting….

“To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under Heaven. A time to live and a time to die…”

Barney slumped to the floor. Poor boy. He’d go first. She and Nick were bigger, so they’d last longer. Push, keep pushing, a little farther…

“A little farther, Drea.” Her grandfather’s voice. He
was the only one who’d ever called her that. “Just a little farther. Don’t stop now. Another inch, and you’ll reach my hands.”

Another inch. A vague dream of Grandfather’s strong hands, tight on hers, lifting her out into the cool air, holding her close. Safe. She’d always been safe with him.

Safe in God’s hands. Living or dying…

Another inch. She pushed the bar, felt the resistance give way as it slid through. Befuddled. Taking a moment to realize she had to pull the bar back out.

Feel the cool air on her face, rushing in through the hole she’d made. Drinking in long gasps of it. Drag Nick’s limp form, then Barney, up to the opening, feeling the dog stir.

But tired. So tired. She slumped down, head on Barney’s fur.

C
al eased off on the accelerator when he hit the outskirts of Churchville. He was making a fool of himself, rushing back at this hour, but the urge to see Andrea again, to clear the air between them, had been too strong to ignore.

He’d tried hiding from life, and it hadn’t worked. He couldn’t hide. Life kept finding him.

And beneath that urge to see Andrea had been something he couldn’t explain, a sense that all was not right. An urgent feeling that he was needed.

Well, he was here, and how he’d explain arriving at this late hour, he didn’t know. They’d all be asleep, probably, and he’d have to wait until morning to see Andrea anyway.

But as he turned into the drive at the inn, he saw the glow of lights in the library. It had to be Andrea, sitting up late at the computer. Relief flooded through him, making him realize just how tense he’d been.

A glimpse of movement drew his attention. From beyond the outbuildings, a dark car spurted out, hit the winding country road and raced away.

Cal jammed on the brakes and slid out, leaving the
motor running, all his instincts crying out. That was wrong, very wrong. He ran toward the back door, and the minute he saw it, he knew his instincts were on target. The door stood open, light pooling out onto the patio, and no one was there.

His feet thudded across the patio. None of them would go off and leave the door standing open at this hour. He bolted inside and ran for the library. Lights on, computer on, desk chair pushed back. It looked as if Andrea had just walked away.

Some rational part of his mind kept insisting that there could be a logical explanation, but he didn’t believe it. Rachel—Rachel was sleeping on this floor now, in the little room off the kitchen.

He saw the light go on as he ran to it. He was probably scaring her to death.

“Rachel, it’s Cal. Is Andrea with you?”

“No. What’s happening?” Fear laced her voice.

He flung open the door. Rachel sat up in bed, pulling a robe around her.

“The back door is standing open, and I can’t find Andrea.”

“If she took the dog out—”

He felt as if he’d been doused with cold water. “That must be it. Sorry. I’ll just check.”

Logical explanation, see? But the fear drove him back out to the patio. “Andrea! Andrea, are you out here?”

A light went on overhead, and he heard footsteps on the stairs. Katherine. She hurried toward him.

“Cal, what are you doing back? Why are you calling for Andrea?”

“Is she upstairs?”

“No.” She glanced toward the library and paled. “She and Barney were still down here. She must have taken him out. But why didn’t she hear you call?”

“I’ll look for her. Where’s a flashlight?”

She pulled a drawer open and thrust a heavy torch into his hand. “I’m calling the police.”

He jerked a nod and hurried out the door. Better a false alarm than a tragedy. He’d never been one to go on instinct, but this sense was stronger than he’d ever experienced.

Is it You, Lord? If it is, help me to listen. Show me where to go. Please, keep her safe.

He ran across the lawn toward the outbuildings. The car that had no possible reason for being there—it had come from behind the outbuildings. He swung the light around.

“Andrea! Where are you?”

Nothing. The buildings were dark and silent, the security lights reflecting from them, mocking him. They hadn’t kept Andrea safe.

And the dog—the dog must be with her. “Barney!” he yelled. “Here, boy. Barney!”

Not even an answering woof. He paused by the toolshed, the urgency pounding along his veins like a power in his blood, telling him to hurry, hurry. But where?

Lord, help me. If this is from You, help me.

He took a breath. Think. The car came down the disused lane behind the outbuildings—the lane that led only to the old barn. He ran, heart thudding in his ears. Behind him, from the house, the bell began clanging in
sistently. Katherine, trying to rouse the Zook family to come and help.

The circle of light bounced. He rounded the corner, saw the barn doors, and knew the instinct that drove him was right. Both doors stood open, and the grass leading to them was bent down from the passage of a car.

He thudded inside. A car had been in here—he could smell the fumes. Strong, too strong. He swung the light around. Empty, nothing…

The light flashed on a door—solid as the barn, the old-fashioned latch dropped down into its pocket, securing it. He ran toward it, stumbling on a length of hose, righting himself, reaching the door.

Flung it open and staggered back from the fumes. Andrea. He took a deep breath and threw himself through the door. Woman and dog lay together against the outer wall. Another figure—a man. Bendick. Still, too still.

He grabbed Andrea, stumbled back out, through the barn, out into the cold night air. Think, remember your CPR training, but even as he thought it she coughed, choked and gasped in a gulp of air.

Tears filled his eyes.
Please, God, please, God.
He knelt in the damp grass, holding her against him. “Andrea, wake up. Say something. Breathe.”

She stirred, murmured something, then sank limply against him. But she was breathing. Her eyelids fluttered.

“I’ve found her!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “Call the paramedics.” Poor Katherine must be terrified, but he couldn’t do anything else. He’d have to go back in for Bendick….

Lights bobbing toward him—Eli, his son and the
oldest grandson with him, running with trousers pulled on over nightshirts.

“In the barn, the back room. Bendick and the dog. Mind the fumes.” Samuel nodded and pelted into the barn with the boy, while Eli knelt beside him.

“Will she be all right, then?”

“She’s breathing.” He looked at the older man, not ashamed of the tears that spilled over. “She’s alive.”

“Thank the Lord,” Eli said.

The wail of a siren split the night.

Yes, thank You, Father. Thank You.

Andrea toyed with the piece of dry toast that was all she thought she could get down. They sat around the breakfast table in various stages of exhaustion. Emma kept pressing food on people, as if that were the only cure for the night they’d been through.

Since she’d missed most of it, either through being unconscious or at the hospital, she tried to concentrate on what Chief Burkhalter was saying, but her gaze kept straying to Cal.

His face was drawn, the skin pulled tight against the bone, as if he’d been in battle and wasn’t sure it was over. She’d had no chance to talk with him alone, and still didn’t know what had brought him back. She only knew he’d come in time to save her. That was enough.

Barney padded around the table from Grams to her, sighed, and thudded heavily to the floor next to her, as if he’d decided that she needed his protection.

“…caught up with the woman the other side of Harrisburg,” Burkhalter was saying. “She tried to bluff it
out. Might have gotten away if Burke hadn’t gotten to you in time.” He eyed her soberly. “Just glad you’re okay.”

She nodded, not sure she trusted herself to speak. The memory was too fresh.

“I don’t understand.” Grams seemed to have aged overnight. “I’d believe anything of Betty, but Nick—we’ve known him and trusted him for thirty years.”

“Are they talking?” Cal asked.

Burkhalter shrugged. “The woman clammed up tight and asked for a lawyer. Bendick is still in the hospital, but he’s babbling like Conestoga Creek.” He turned to Grams. “Might make you feel a little better to know that apparently Bendick never intended to steal from the company. He had gambling losses he was ashamed to admit to your husband, took money to pay them off intending to replace it, he says, but the secretary found out and started blackmailing him. I imagine a thorough look into the books will prove she helped herself to quite a bit. Whether you’ll ever get it back again is another question. The lawyers will have to sort that out.”

“I still don’t understand,” Rachel said. “What was the point of all of the tricks they pulled? Was that Uncle Nick or Betty?”

“According to Bendick, they figured Andrea was the one person who might make sense of their doctored records, especially if she got hold of her grandfather’s ledgers. The secretary was pulling the strings, blackmailing him to try and scare Andrea away. He claims he couldn’t take it anymore, was coming here to tell you the truth when she attacked him.”

The timing suddenly made sense. “I had the ledgers on my desk in the afternoon, when Betty stopped in. She must have thought I was on to them.”

“We found the ledgers in her car,” Burkhalter said. “Looks like they had some hope of locating them before you did. And he thought if Mrs. Unger gave up the idea of the inn, you’d go back to the city and leave things alone.”

“Levi saw him.” Emma spoke unexpectedly, her hands holding tight to the back of Grams’s chair. “He finally told us. He saw Mr. Bendick here when he shouldn’t of been. He wanted to tell Andrea, but he was too shy. Mr. Bendick said to meet him in Cal’s place, so he could explain. Instead he pushed him.”

“Levi—he was trying to tell me that night when he stood outside the house. And he followed me when I left the farm.”

Emma nodded. “He meant to help. He didn’t know how.”

It was all starting to fall into place. “What about Rachel, the hit-and-run? Did they do that?”

“Bendick claims not,” Burkhalter said. “We’ll keep looking, but we may never know the truth about that.”

Grams reached up to clasp Emma’s hand. “At least Levi and Rachel are going to be all right.”

“And Ms. Hampton,” Burkhalter added. “The secretary hoped we’d think Bendick was guilty, at least long enough to let her get away.” He shifted his gaze to Cal. “What made you come back, Burke? Did you suspect it was something to do with the books?”

Her breath stopped.
Why, Cal? How did you know?

“No, not at all.” He looked as if he were blaming himself. “I just…” He hesitated. “I just had a feeling.”

Grams glanced at the clock and got to her feet. “Goodness, we’ll be having guests here before you know it. We have to get ready.” She bustled around the table, making shooing motions with her hands. “Andrea, you go and rest before you fall over. We’ll take care of everything. Go on now.”

People began to scatter. If Cal intended to tell her anything, it would have to wait.

The final guests left on Monday afternoon, heaping delighted praise on Three Sisters Inn. Andrea looked at Grams and Rachel. They wore grins just as goofy as hers probably was.

“We actually did it,” she said. “I’m not sure I believed it would work.”

“I did.” Rachel patted her arm. “Thanks to you, and Grams, and Emma, and Nancy, and everyone else who helped out.”

“They all said they’d be back.” Grams sounded a little surprised. “Two couples have already booked for a second visit.”

“You know, Grams, if you’re able to recover the money Betty stole, you might not have to run the inn.” She was fairly certain she knew the answer to that, but they may as well get it out in the open.

Grams looked astonished. “Not run the inn? Of course we will. This is the most fun I’ve had in years.”

Andrea hugged her. It looked as if she’d been wrong
about a lot of things, but this was one time when she didn’t mind that.

Grams patted her. “You should go and rest. You both should.”

“Sounds good.” Rachel stifled a yawn.

“I think I’ll go out back and get some fresh air first.” Andrea whistled to Barney, who scurried to her side. She patted his head. “You’re my self-appointed watchdog, aren’t you?” So maybe he wasn’t the brightest dog in the world, but he was loyal.

Afternoon sun slanted across the lawn, filtering through the trees to touch the brilliant colors of the flowers. The sandstone patio wall glowed golden. Cal sat, just where she thought she might find him.

The dog padded quietly at her heels as she stepped off the patio and went to sit beside him.

He gave her a questioning look. “You’re not turned off by the view out here after what happened to you?”

That was a nice, safe way to start what they had to say to each other. “It’s still beautiful.” She managed to look at the dark bulk of the old barn where it lifted above the outbuildings. “I guess there’s something about nearly dying that makes you appreciate life.”

“I should have been here,” he said abruptly, emotion roughening his voice. “I shouldn’t have left until I was sure everything was all right.”

Sorrow deepened. It would have been better if he’d said he shouldn’t have left at all, but he hadn’t. She’d have to accept that.

“You came back in time, that’s all that counts.” It
took an effort to keep her voice even. “What made you come back, Cal? I need to know.”

He touched her hand lightly, and that touch seemed to reverberate through her. “I kept thinking I’d been unfair, leaving the way I did without talking to you. I tried telling myself I’d done it for the best, but I wasn’t very convincing.” He looked at her then. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded, trying to dispel the lump in her throat. “That’s why you came back last night? Because you’d been wrong to leave without talking to me?”

“Not exactly.” His brow furrowed. “I don’t know if I can explain. I just felt an overwhelming pressure to come, not to wait for morning, not to delay, just to come.” His fingers wrapped around hers. “I think God was giving me the push I needed. That’s the only explanation I have.”

“It’s all you need.” The feelings she’d had when she was trapped came flooding back—the assurance of God’s presence, the half-remembered dream about Grandfather. “Remember when you asked me what brought on my claustrophobia?”

He looked startled by the change of subject, but nodded.

“I found out. Some of it I remembered, some Grams told me. When I was five, I fell into an abandoned well behind the old barn.”

“That would certainly do it.”

She nodded. “Grandfather was out in the field with Eli and some of the men. They heard me cry. My grandfather had the men hold his legs and lower him down so that I could reach his hands. He pulled me out.”