Lost Legacy (A Zoe Chambers Mystery Book 2) (32 page)

The question took a moment to sink in. Froats’ eyes widened. “Holy hell. You think—”

Pete pushed away from the sink. Carrying his crutches he hobbled to the screened back door. “
Wayne
,” he shouted into the night. “You find anything?”

“Nothing,” Baronick called back. “It’s clear.”

“Then get in here and order a countywide BOLO.” Pete hit speed dial for Seth’s cell.

Froats appeared to have shrunk three inches. “You think Wilford Engle has your father.”

“I don’t think. I know.” The line rang in Pete’s ear. “Not just my father. The bastard has Zoe, too.” When Seth picked up, Pete updated him on what they knew and what he suspected. “Be on the lookout for Zoe’s truck. And use caution. Consider Engle to be armed and dangerous.” Like an old wounded grizzly. A grizzly that had dragged off Zoe and his pop.

Baronick had come inside with his phone pressed to his ear. Froats paced the kitchen, rubbing his beard. Pete pivoted, looking around the filthy room, searching for some sign. Some tidbit. A breadcrumb to let him know Zoe and Harry were okay. Better yet, where to find them.

“An old codger like Wilford Engle doesn’t like change,” Froats said, his gravelly voice low. “His world’s been rocked by the suicide of his brother. He’s trying to bring it back to an even keel.”

By getting rid of everyone Engle saw as a threat to his freedom. Not exactly a comforting thought.

Baronick turned around. From his expression, Pete knew it wasn’t good news.

The detective lowered the phone. “We’ve located Zoe’s truck.”

Pete jumped toward him, forgetting about his foot. He winced, but ignored the razor-sharp pain. “Where?”

“In the Brunswick Hospital parking lot. Looks like she never left. But they said her cell phone’s on the seat.”

Pete yanked his phone back out of his pocket. Pulled up the voice message. Played it again. “She said she and
Patsy
were on their way here. This must be Patsy’s number. Patsy Greene. Get a make, model, and plate number for her vehicle and put the BOLO out on it. Then we’re going over to James Engle’s place.”

“Why there?” Froats asked.

“Because you said Wilford didn’t like change. I’ll bet he’s a creature of habit. Criminals like to revisit the scene of the crime. Maybe he’s going to use one he’s used before.” Besides, Pete couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d go. He jammed the crutches under his arms and headed for the front of the house in long, swinging strides.

“Wait,” Froats called from behind him.

“We don’t have time to wait,” Pete barked.

“I know that, damn it. Listen to me. Have one of your men check out James’ place. They’ll know where it is. You and me? We’re gonna check someplace else. Someplace they’re not gonna know. At least not the exact location.”

Pete spun. Studied the gleam in the old police chief’s eyes. “Wayne,” Pete yelled. “Come on. Froats is navigating.”

Thirty-Two

As Zoe dove for Harry, she wasn’t sure if the scream came from her throat or Patsy’s.

“Get away,” Engle said, sputtering.

Zoe ignored him. Ignored everything but Harry sprawled on the ground. “I need light.”

The hot metal of the recently fired gun muzzle pressed into her temple. “I said, get away from him.”

She clenched her fists, too angry to be scared. Or maybe the adrenaline gave her courage. For a fleeting moment, she considered grabbing Engle’s wrist and prying the gun from his hands. But she’d just seen Harry—a bigger stronger individual than she—lose that battle. She managed to turn her head enough so she could shift her eyes and fix Engle’s dark silhouette with a hard stare. “You’re planning to shoot me anyway. So either do it now or get that gun out of my face and give me some goddamn light.”

Engle stepped back. For a moment, the gun barrel wavered then he clutched the grip with both hands, steadying his hold. “No use wasting your time, girlie.”

In the darkness, Zoe could only imagine his finger tightening on the trigger. But instead of one final blast from the gun, the old man’s knees buckled. He hit the ground hard, and the revolver clunked on the road’s tar-and-chipped shoulder, disappearing into the black of night.

What just happened? Had Patsy clubbed Engle from behind? “Patsy?”

“I’m here.” Patsy’s soft voice was higher-pitched than normal, but wasn’t near Engle. “Did he have a heart attack?”

“I don’t know.” Nor did Zoe know where the gun was. “I need light.”

“I have a flashlight in my glove box.”

“Get it.” Triaging Engle’s collapse to a lower priority at the moment, Zoe fingered Harry’s neck for a carotid. She prayed for a pulse. Found one. And remarkably strong. Harry’s mind might be failing, but he had a helluva big heart. “Harry? Can you hear me?”

He took a hoarse breath. “Yeah.” He moaned. “Damn.”

“Where’s the pain?” She trailed her fingers down his shirt front, feeling for that unmistakable warm, sticky liquid that was no doubt draining from him in the dark.

The gravel crunched as Patsy jogged up. Suddenly Harry was bathed in light from Patsy’s flashlight. Zoe almost wished they’d stayed in the dark.

A glistening deep crimson spot was spreading across Harry’s polo shirt just above and left of his belt. With no ambulance and no supplies to work with, she pressed both her hands against the oozing hole in the center of the pool. “Patsy, do you have any towels in your truck?”

“I have a blanket.”

“Great. Get it.”

Patsy pivoted away, leaving Harry in darkness again.

“Wait. Leave me the flashlight.”

As Patsy stepped toward her with the oversized black Maglite, Engle groaned. Patsy aimed the beam in his direction.

The old man was on his hands and knees, hunched over. “I take these spells,” he mumbled.

Where was the gun? Zoe scanned the ground around Engle, searching. The old man slowly lifted his head. And his hand—with the .38 in it.

Fuck.

“Enough.” With gun trained on Zoe, Engle lurched to his feet. “I’ve wasted enough of my time on the three of you.”

Harry’s fingers wrapped around her wrist. “Zoe?”

He knew who she was. Harry was bleeding to death on the side of a dark, deserted road, but he knew who she was. She choked. “Yeah, Harry, it’s me.”

“I’m sorry. I tried.”

Tears blurred her vision. “I know you did.”

The revolver’s muzzle again jabbed into the side of her head.

Patsy swung the beam of light into Engle’s face. “Wait,” she cried.

Engle shielded his eyes with his free hand. “Turn that thing off.”

“No. Wait. Listen to me.”

What on earth was Patsy doing? But anything to delay Engle from pulling that trigger—and buy more time—was fine with Zoe.

“You said your sister Mae died in childbirth. Right?”

“Turn off that damned light.”

Patsy seemed to ignore him. “You said she’d been gone from this earth forty-four years ago
as of Friday
, right?”

“What difference does that make now?”

Zoe’s breath caught in her throat as the realization sunk in.

Friday. Barbecue and beer. Patsy’s birthday.

Patsy’s forty-fourth birthday.

“Is that right?” Patsy demanded.

Engle swung away from Zoe. The muzzle no longer pressed into her skin. She risked a glance.

He had the gun aimed squarely at Patsy. And she kept the flashlight on him. He squinted hard into the beam. “I’m going to shoot that damned light and you with it.”

“Did your sister die in childbirth on June twentieth?”

Engle lowered the gun. A little. “That’s what I said, ain’t it? Why are you harpin’ on it?”

Patsy’s face was in darkness, but her voice trembled as she said, “It’s my birthday. I was adopted. I’ve tried for years to find out about my birth parents, but all I’ve been able to come up with was they were from Monongahela County and were both dead.” She paused. “I think your sister was my mother.”

Zoe planted a hand against the sharp gravel to keep her balance. Wilford Engle was Patsy’s uncle? She was his niece? As awful as it seemed for Patsy, this might be what could save their lives. Zoe had a quick mental picture of Wilford throwing down his gun and embracing his newfound family.

The night fell silent except for the sound of Wilford’s wheezing breath. He didn’t throw his gun down. Instead he tucked it into the waist of his trousers. He took an uneven step toward Patsy.

Then he let out a roar that sounded like a bear. He staggered toward Patsy, arms outstretched. He didn’t hug her. He grabbed her by the throat. The flashlight clattered to the ground. “You’re the bastard offspring of that son of a bitch Vernie Miller. You’re the reason Mae’s dead.”

Patsy gave a garbled cry.

Zoe took Harry’s hand that was on her wrist and placed it on his gunshot wound. “Press down, Harry. As hard as you can.”

If he answered, she didn’t hear. She launched toward the scuffle. Before she reached them, Wilford Engle shoved Patsy backwards. She stumbled. Zoe heard the dull thud of Patsy’s legs against the guardrail. Caught a glimpse of Patsy’s arms flailing. And then with a snarl, Engle heaved Patsy over.

She shrieked. Breaking twigs snapped and rustled as Patsy crashed down the rock face. The same rock face Zoe’s father had been driven over.

A flash of lightning glinted off the gun in Engle’s waistband. At the same moment, Zoe spotted Patsy’s Maglite lying on the ground.

Engle must have sensed what Zoe planned. He wheeled toward her, the gun back in his hand. Zoe leaped. Snatched the flashlight. Engle raised the muzzle. And Zoe swung the heavy barrel of the Maglite with everything she had. It cracked against Engle’s forearm. The gun sailed into the darkness. He swore and doubled over.

Zoe huffed a breath. Relaxed.

The old man lunged forward. He rammed the crown of his head into her, just below her ribs. Gasping, she slammed the ground with him on top. The flashlight flew from her grasp. Gravel bit into her elbows.

Engle struggled to his feet while Zoe fought for air. Even in the dark, she could make out his right arm hanging useless at his side. She clawed at the ground, fingers closing around pebbles and dirt. He tottered away from her, head lowered. Looking for his gun.

Air returned slowly. Zoe rolled to her side. Onto her knees. Engle bent down. Reached with his left hand.

The gun.

Zoe groped in the dark. Her hand fell upon something smooth and round. She dragged the flashlight to her. Held it close, shielded from view. A second chance. There would be no third.

Engle staggered toward her, the gun in his left hand. “You bitch,” he hissed. He took another step toward her. And another.

Come closer, she thought. It’s dark. You don’t want to miss. Neither do I.

One more step. He stopped. Zoe, hunkered on the ground, hoping she looked to him as if she were hugging her ribs. She lifted her gaze to his hand. The gun trembled. He raised it. She tightened her grip on the flashlight.

And came up swinging. A big upward arc that caught Engle’s left wrist from underneath. His arm and the gun snapped toward the sky. The blast nearly deafened her, but the bullet missed its target.

Before Engle had a chance to move, to fire another shot, to dodge out of the way, Zoe brought the flashlight down where she’d last seen his head. The heavy barrel connected with a sickening crunch.

Engle collapsed in a heap at her feet.

Swaying, breathless, and seeing spots from the muzzle blast, Zoe let the flashlight drop. Harry lay bleeding next to the road. Patsy had gone over the hillside. As Zoe struggled to decide who she should tend to first, she heard something in the distance. Wishful thinking? Or a car on this deserted back road? The sound grew louder. 

The car squealed around the bend, the headlights blinding her. But not before she made out the red and blue emergency lights. Arms outstretched, she staggered toward Harry and flagged down the cavalry.

Thirty-Three

The reality of what Pete had almost lost and what he may lose yet, weighed heavier on him than if he’d tried to carry one of the horses at Zoe’s barn on his shoulders. The world swirled around him in shades of blue and red. He leaned on his crutches behind one of the three Monongahela County ambulances that had responded to the dark country road. Inside, a trio of paramedics worked on Harry, who looked horribly pale under the bright interior lights of the medic unit. Pete wanted to be in there with his father, soothing him. But the medics had ordered him—nicely—to give them space. Besides, Harry was unconscious, the blood loss, immense.

Pete shifted the crutches and turned to look for Zoe in the crowd of fire fighters, emergency medics, and police swarming the scene. One of the medics with a different crew slammed the back door of a second ambulance and pounded on it with his fist. The rig lurched forward and pulled away, carrying Wilford Engle to the hospital. One of the county police vehicles, in which Froats was riding shotgun, fell in behind. Engle, also unconscious with a head injury, would be kept under close guard at the hospital.

Firefighters gathered at the guardrail. They’d set up a generator and lights to illuminate the wooded hillside and ropes to lower rescue workers over the side. Pete spotted Zoe standing near the search and rescue team, talking to Baronick, her fingers pressed to her mouth.

Pete thought of the drive here with Froats and Baronick. The heart-pounding terror of what they would find at the scene where Gary Chambers had died decades earlier. Froats had been right, the old cuss. They’d careened around that last bend on the dark road, their headlights falling on a white pickup at the berm, Zoe in the middle of the road waving, and a heap that turned out to be Harry lying on the yellow line.

Harry and Zoe. Pete had come so close to losing both of them. For the second time, he’d arrived too late to rescue Zoe from a crazed gunman. Both times he thanked God that Zoe had managed to defend herself. She was a hell of a woman. Pete heard Harry’s words in his mind.
You should marry that girl
. At the very least, he should convince her that being “just friends” wasn’t going to cut it.

A hand touched Pete’s shoulder. Flinching, he turned to see one of the paramedics who’d been working on Harry. “Is Pop going to be all right?”

The young man’s solemn face did little to offer optimism. “We’ve done all we can for him here. I wanted you to know we’re transporting him to Phillipsburg. Life Flight is coming in and will land on that field behind the ambulance garage. From there, they’ll take him to Allegheny General.”

Pete took an unsteady hop toward the medic unit. “I’m going with you.”

The paramedic blocked him. “You can’t, Chief. There isn’t room in the helicopter. You’ll have to catch a ride from someone else.”

How many times had Pete said the exact same words to a distraught family member? He growled deep in his throat, but nodded. “Tell him...tell Pop I love him and I’ll see him soon.”

The paramedic gave a quick nod and was gone. Within a minute, the back doors were closed and the vehicle pulled out, jouncing over the ruts.

A whoop went up from the woods. The firefighters and rescue crew cheered. “We got her! She’s alive!”

Baronick put an arm around Zoe, and she collapsed against him.

Zoe in Wayne Baronick’s arms? This was not good.

Clenching his jaw, Pete hobbled over to them.

Zoe must have seen his approach. She pushed free of the detective and turned. “How’s Harry?”

“They’re Life Flighting him to Allegheny General. He’s lost a lot of blood.”

She swiped a hand over her face. “I’m so sorry, Pete. I tried—” Her voice broke.

Baronick reached for her, but Pete threw down his crutches and pulled her into his arms. “You probably saved his life,” he whispered into her hair. “I owe you.”

She hiccupped. “I almost got him killed.”

Pete held her tighter. “How do you figure that? Wilford Engle is the only one responsible for any of this.”

“But if I’d kept a closer eye on Harry, maybe—”

Pete shushed her. Cupped her face in his hands and drew it back so he could look at her in the harsh emergency lighting. “You couldn’t have stopped Engle from taking him. And you did find him.” Pete would save scolding her about playing hero for another time.

Her face was a study in anguish. “Pete, you don’t understand.
He
saved
me
. Wilford Engle was going to shoot
me
. Harry took the bullet that was meant for
me
.”

“You’re the one who doesn’t understand.
That
was my pop. Superman. The man I grew up wanting to be like. The reason I became a cop. I’d thought I’d never see that man again.”

She gazed up at him. The guilt and agony melted from her face.

“Even if—” Pete’s voice caught. He swallowed and tried again. “If he doesn’t make it, my pop will have died a hero. Because he adored you. In the shape he’s been in the last few years, that’s a helluva way to go.”

Zoe managed a timid smile. “He’s a hero either way. Like father, like son.”

Another cry went up from the crew at the guardrail as Bruce Yancy barked orders to the man inside the truck, running the winch. “Bring her up. Slow.”

Pete and Zoe turned to watch. He kept a protective arm around her shoulders, and she slipped her arm around his waist.

Pete shot a challenging glance at Baronick who gave him a nod and headed off to watch them haul Patsy Greene up.

“Patsy is Mae Engle’s daughter,” Zoe said.

“What?”

“She figured it out and told Wilford in the midst of everything. I think she hoped it would save us. Him knowing she was his niece. Instead, all he reacted to was that she was Vernon Miller’s daughter. The reason Mae was dead. And he threw her over the hill.”

Pete struggled to grasp this latest development. “Are you sure she’s Mae and Vernon’s daughter? Maybe she just said that to distract him.”

Zoe shook her head. “Wilford mentioned that Mae had died in childbirth forty-four years ago Friday. That’s Patsy’s birthday. She’s been planning a big barbecue at her place. When she told Wilford, he flipped out on her.”

“Huh.” Pete rolled it around in his brain. “That makes her your cousin.”

“I was thinking that, too. Second cousins, I guess.”

Two firefighters appeared at the edge of the precipice, guiding a rescue basket. Inside, Patsy lifted one arm as much as the straps would allow and waved. Another cheer went up from the rescue crew.

Pete felt Zoe pressed against his side, shaking. He thought she was crying again. But then he realized she was laughing. “What’s so funny?”

Zoe shook her head. “I don’t think Patsy’s had a chance to think about her new family connections yet. Otherwise, she might have told them to leave her down there in the woods.”