Necessary Evil (22 page)

It wasn’t until
that moment that I ever, even briefly, thought that there was anything to find.
Randall spoke with such authority, such conviction, that I found myself sitting
up straight with one loud thought flashing through my head:
Over my dead
body.

He opened his
mouth, but I waved him into silence, sorting through my racing thoughts. It was
one thing if Randall and a few amateurs thought that there was something to
find. I could dismiss the latter as amateurs, and the former as an academic
desperate to re-establish his credibility with a big find. But if Randall was
right and this was an organized effort by a group of intruders willing to risk
jail time to find it… For some reason, that made the impossible possible.

If there was an
actual treasure, that changed everything. I wasn’t in a race simply against
exposure of fraud. If Alexander Chase did rob the McInnis family, we had a
chance to put it right, albeit a century and a half late, but only if we could
prevent the cache from disappearing into the underworld. If it did, I would
have lost the one chance we had to restore the Chase family honor.

Even as I thought
it, the word
honor
seemed so old fashioned as to be laughable. But this wasn’t
just about some philosophical idea about family pride: this was about finishing
what Uncle Michael had started, about making his death something more than just
a tragic accident. This was about vindicating him as much as it was about
completing Alexander’s condemnation.

Randall waited,
rubbing his hands together slowly as I thought this through.

“You think they
aren’t professional,” I said.

He nodded.

“But you still
think that they’re on to something. That they’re more than just ordinary thrill
seekers?”

“I’d stake my
reputation on it.” He grinned. “And for the record, it’s still a good one, just
not as well-known as it once was.”

I dismissed the
caveat with another wave of my hand. “I just don’t know what I can do…”

He interrupted me
again. Leaning closer, he covered my bandaged hand with his own.

“Madeleine,”
Randall said. “Bring me that letter and I promise you, one way or another,
we’ll put a stop to this for good.”

His eyes, dark as
mahogany and deep as the fathomless sea, caught mine and held them. I
hesitated.

“Work with me, not
against me,” he said again, “and I
promise
you, we will find it.
Together, we will end this.”

He said it as
though I’d believe him and the funny part was, I did. For the first time since
we’d met, I believed that what he was telling me was the simple unadorned
truth. We could work together and we would find it.

Yet I hesitated. I
faltered, not because I thought at last that he might be right. I faltered
because here was offered help.

But again, it was
the wrong person offering it.

Joe offered – in
his own way, he offered and you didn’t accept.

If I worked with
Randall, there was still that chance that there was nothing to find – that we’d
both end up empty-handed, looking like fools. The truth about the Beaumont
letter would come out, because I knew that if I worked with Randall, I would
have to cleanse my conscience of that stain. If there was nothing to be found -
or worse, there was, but these hunters beat us to it - I would be ruined.
Financially, personally, and irreparably.

Joe had offered me
a way out, permission to leave this mess behind and start fresh. I could give
up, sell out, and move on. I might be able to use Joe’s influence to mitigate
the Beaumont affair and come out, if not ahead, at the very least even.

So yes, Joe had
offered a form of help, but it wasn’t one I could accept. For one thing, I
wouldn’t feel right relying on him until our relationship was cemented, and I
knew I wouldn’t allow that to happen until this digging stopped. But beyond
that, today’s accident made me realize that I was living in fear, cringing
through life, waiting for the next hammer to fall. I’d allowed these hunters,
these
intruders
as Randall called them, to dictate the kind of life I
lived. No amount of financial freedom could make up for the loss of
self-respect.

All of this ran
through my head in a matter of seconds; but in that short span of time, my
entire life pivoted, and the new direction took my breath away.

Randall was still
waiting, the lines deepening on his face. I was surprised to see resignation
wash over his expression. Then I remembered that we’d had this conversation
before, and he’d made practically the same promise. I scoffed at him then and
did my best to make his life miserable - not that his ego couldn’t use the
humbling. He must have thought my hesitation was due to doubts about his
abilities, a wounding thought. He had no way of knowing that hurting him was no
longer at the top on my list.

I found my voice.

“All right,
professor.” My voice was shaky, but resolute. “Consider us partners until the
treasure is found.”

His surprise was
so great it was nearly audible.

I withdrew my hand
and avoided looking at his face as I rose. “Today is Sunday. I’ll get you that
letter tomorrow,” I said, and left him sitting in the kitchen.

I took a shower,
got dressed, and got on with my day. When Aunt Susanna asked about my injured
hands, I told her I’d tripped. And when Joe texted me from California, I asked
him about the weather.

Monday dawned and I
rose early, conscious of the fact that for all the changes that had taken place
yesterday, much had remained the same. I had an ally, but we were still under
siege.

I ran for longer
and only barely managed to cover a little more of the trails than usual before
having to come in for chores, breakfast, and then rush to open the office.
There was another hole, this one on the far end of the property, too great a
distance for me to run back and forth for the shovel. I filled it with nearby
rocks and branches, making an obvious lump for the riders to avoid.

This new hole
unnerved me and for the first time, I found myself seriously considering
closing the trails down. It was impossible to cover more ground than I was
already doing, and I worried that there were other holes that I was missing. I
was concerned enough that I left a note on Aunt Susanna’s coffee mug, warning
her that I’d found another and leaving the decision to close the trails for the
day up to her.

Also on my plate
were the riding camps that were due to start next week, which I’d be doing
without Lindsay’s aid for the first time. This meant I’d have to take four
weeks off from work. I’d asked for the time off a few weeks earlier, and
reminded my boss of the fact when she came into the office this morning. She
remembered, though reluctantly.

“It’s the usual
summer rush,” she said, pursing her lips and tapping them with her steepled
hands. “Everyone’s dog has ticks, everyone has time to come for the annual
checkups. Do you think Che Che can handle the load?”

“I’m sure she’ll
be fine,” I said, although I wasn’t sure at all. Even during the slow times,
the office work could be daunting - and here I was taking not one week off, but
two this month and two the next.

My boss looked
concerned.

“Maybe I should
get someone in to cover,” she mused. “Someone who can be more reliable during
the summer months…”

I left the meeting
in vague discomfort. I was already taking three of these weeks off without pay,
a financial loss that was covered by the camps, which I was convinced was the
way of the future for the farm. Now I wondered if I’d have a job to come back
to.

I worried about it
so much throughout the day that Che Che, noticing my taciturn mood, asked me if
everything was all right with Joe. I let her assume that my preoccupation was
with him. Being lovelorn was easy. Being besieged by treasure hunters, little
girl riders, and job worries was a little more difficult to explain.

As promised, I
went to the bank during my lunch break and withdrew Alexander Chase’s letter
from the safety deposit box. I returned home to find Jacob by the back door,
working on Uncle Michael’s bicycle.

It was a fine,
expensive bicycle, a sturdy off-roader that Aunt Susanna had bought him several
years ago, when he was considering joining a men’s trek team up Mount
Washington. But the team never formed and the bicycle was rarely used, for he
much preferred riding horseback to biking. When he died, Aunt Susanna couldn’t
bear the sight of it, so we’d put it in the barn and forgot about it.

Seeing it in
Jacob’s hands was disconcerting, but I rallied, thinking,
Better
someone should make good use of it
. I even managed to smile when Jacob
raised his head to greet me.

“It’s a fine
bicycle,” I said quietly. “Do you ride often?”

“Yeah, it’s all
right,” he said. “It’ll be ready for tomorrow, no problem.”

I thought it an
odd thing to say, but chalked it up to “things teenagers said” and went inside.

The kitchen was
empty. According to his usual schedule, Randall would be in his office, either
finishing a new chapter or editing an old one, but not to be disturbed in any
case. The letter, the precious, troublesome Alexander Chase letter was in a
protective sheet in the briefcase that I’d brought just for the purpose. It was
safe enough, but I burned to have it out of my hands and in someone else’s
care. I could do without yet another responsibility.

I was tempted to
interrupt the professor, but the happy babble of female voices coming from the
living room drew my attention. Two of those voices were easily identified as
Aunt Susanna and Darlene, sounding brighter and happier than I could recall
hearing in a long time. The third voice was so quiet that I couldn’t make it
out.

I was standing in
the hallway by the office door and listening in on the conversation in the
living room, when Aunt Susanna hobbled out into the hallway, laughing. She
broke off when she saw me.

“Oh, Maddie,
you’re home, good! Come and join us. I have someone here I want you to see.”
When I gestured to the office door, she said, “He’s out walking around the
grounds and won’t be back for a while. Come on! We have a visitor.”

She looked
mysterious and I couldn’t imagine who it was that could elicit that reaction.
Thus I was completely unprepared when I walked into the room and saw Lindsay
sitting in the armchair beside Darlene.

It is one thing
knowing, intellectually, that someone is healing from an accident. It is
another to see them sitting in a chair, holding a glass of lemonade, smiling up
at you from under their familiar bangs, looking as though nothing had changed
in the four weeks since you’d seen them last - as though that awful night in
the ambulance had never occurred.

“Hey, Boss!”
Lindsay said, her voice low and musical. “Miss me?”

I don’t remember
dropping the briefcase, but it wasn’t in my hands when I wrapped my arms around
her. She was laughing, protesting,
her
voice welcome
in my ear.

“Not too tight,
Boss,” she said, her laughter taking the sting out of the admonition. “The
doctors say I’m stubborn, but still pretty fragile.”

I could feel the
brace under her printed t-shirt, and I loosened my grip. When I pulled away to
look at her, I could see its faint outline under the thin material. There was an
arm brace, too, black and unobtrusive, another reminder that she might be back,
but she was no more whole than any of the rest of us in the living room that
afternoon.

I was assailed by
another wave of anger against the thugs that were digging up my beautiful farm,
but I bit it back. I reminded myself that they weren’t important. What mattered
was that we were here, together. Battered and bruised, but not shattered.

Aunt Susanna
poured me a glass of lemonade. Darlene made room on the couch and for a little
while, chores were forgotten. The lemonade was tart and sweet, the laughs quick
and frequent. Lindsay, though a little slower than before, was as bubbly as
ever. She had already visited the stables and said hello to all of her buddies,
both four-footed and bipedal, and she was enthusiastic about Jacob.

“He’s awesome,”
she said, and didn’t even flinch when the two older women nudged each other. “I
wonder where Professor Randall found him.”

When the three of
us exchanged looks, she laughed.

“Don’t worry,” she
said. “I know that he’s here to find the Chase Treasure, which is
so
cool,
and that it’s a secret, which is even cooler,
and
that he’s undercover
as a novelist for the summer - which is just, like, so awesome I can’t
stand
it.”

“But how did you
know?” Aunt Susanna asked.

Darlene folded her
arms and fixed my assistant with a mock-stern look. “I suppose,”
she
said, “that you wheedled it out of Jacob. Most boys
can’t resist a pretty face.”

Lindsay smiled
wryly.

“It wasn’t entirely
his fault,” she said. “I guessed most of it from what my girls were telling me
and what you three
weren’t
telling me. Did you really expect me to
believe that Maddie would let a romance writer bum a free summer’s stay off of
her? She’s smarter than that.” She leaned forward, suddenly sober, her large
eyes connecting with mine. “Anyway, when I realized that you hadn’t called the
police about the diggers after my accident, I figured you must have a better
plan in mind. After all, relying on them didn’t really work any better than the
Beaumont letter, even when we thought it was real.”

I physically
flinched; but, of course, none of them knew the whole truth about the Beaumont
letter. What worried me was the thought that the knowledge was spreading fast,
too fast. The professor needed time to conduct his investigation properly.

If I can’t stop
the truth about the Beaumont letter from spreading, I’d better help Randall get
to the truth faster.

The thought came
fully formed and unprompted, surprising me with its clarity. It was true:
helping him was the only option left to me. And Randall needed help. I was by
no means an expert, but I could provide knowledge that might take an outsider
hours to uncover. After all, I’d picked up a lot over the years. It was time I
stopped balking and put it to good use.

The idea of
working with such an irritating snob still grated on me. I wasn’t sure I could
do it without wanting to wring his neck, but now it was clear that doing so was
a necessary evil. His expertise would go a long way towards clearing up the
issues surrounding the treasure myth. And if nothing else, his testimony might
help, should the Maddox family decide to sue.

In the briefcase
at my feet was the letter from Alexander, the supposedly coded letter that he
sent to his mother on the eve of his imminent death. The professor wasn’t the
first person to think that it was the key to everything, but he was probably
the only person who could prove that it actually was. It would be my first
gesture of real cooperation.

All of this
whirled through my mind in a mere moment. I had only just resolved everything
when Lindsay reached for the backpack at her feet, still chattering.

“…So that’s when I
came up with up with this new lesson plan,” she said, and I was surprised to
realize that I had missed some conversation.

“What?” I asked,
blinking. “What did you say?”

Lindsay’s brace
creaked ever so softly as she pulled her tablet out of her bag, stray wisps of
hair falling into her eyes as she bent. “Daydreaming, Boss?”

“She’s had so much
on her mind lately,” Aunt Susanna said.

“Working overtime,
too,” Darlene added, her keen eyes fixing on me until I flushed. “It’s a wonder
that she’s able to stay awake at all.”

“I’m fine,” I
objected. “I was just distracted. What were you saying, Lindsay?”

She brushed the
hair out of her eyes as she waited for her tablet to load. “I said that you owe
me for a few day’s work from home.”

The pleased grin
on Aunt Susanna’s face only deepened my confusion. “Working from home? How does
that work?”

Lindsay
practically bounced in her seat. “It works. You see, I figured you and the
professor had enough on your plates without having to worry about the day
camps, too. After all, you weren’t expecting to have to run those. They’re my
babies, and I really didn’t want to give them up, even after the accident. By
the way, it isn’t fair that I have to stay off of horses for so long. I’m
perfectly fine.”

I pointed a finger
at her. “If you think for one instant that you are going to lead those lessons
while you’re still under doctor’s orders, you’re crazy. I won’t let you.”

She only grinned.
“You will when you see what I have in mind. Anyway, you’re already outvoted.
Darlene and Aunt Susanna think it is brilliant, which it is. Look at this and
prepare to be amazed.”

She flipped the
tablet around and showed me a spreadsheet, five days of lessons, planned by the
hour. She’d reorganized the whole thing, devoting the mornings to non-horseback
activities like tack care, exercises for the girls, equestrian history, and
detailed care studies. The afternoons, she told me as I read it, would be when
they actually got on the horses. For three of the afternoons they would stay in
the ring, where Jacob - who’d already been recruited - would guide the horses
while Lindsay and Aunt Susanna coached from the sidelines.

“Aunt
Susanna
will coach?” I asked in disbelief.

Both of them
nodded.

“It’s time I got
back into the saddle,” Aunt Susanna said. “Figuratively, of course. With my knees,
it’ll still be a few weeks before I can actually get onto a horse.”

While I stared
dumbly, Lindsay said, “It’ll work perfectly. This way, you only have to take
two afternoons off a week, if you still want to do trail riding. Between Jake,
Aunt Susanna, and me, we’ve got everything else handled. Darlene volunteered to
help with the lunches, so that’s all set…”

“I’ve got nothing
else to do anyway,” Darlene shrugged.

“…And I can still
take care of all the paperwork and everything,” Lindsay chirped. “I get to keep
my job, and the girls can still do their camp while you and the professor are
out chasing bad guys and finding buried treasure.” She clapped her hands
together and grinned like a child who has just discovered the cookie jar. “It’s
perfect.”