Sighs Matter (20 page)

“Stay here,” Taylor ordered. “I’ll check the house and property.”

As he ran from the room and down the stairs, Claire felt panic thicken her senses. Sadie was here, somewhere. She must be. Nothing could happen to Aunt Sadie,
nothing
.

Pacing the room, Claire went over and over possible scenarios, but nothing she could come up with fit the situation. Sadie wouldn’t take her purse to go check on the bees, or sweep the barn, or take a stroll down by the pond.

In his cage, Hitch paced back and forth along his perch.

“. . . I see dead people . . . dead people . . . uh-oh . . .”

Sadie kept her head down, and her feet moving. Her knees felt like Jell-O—not like it was when you let it set overnight, but Jell-O after about an hour.

Another blast zipped past her, missing her by a mile. Handguns were notoriously poor weapons when it came to hitting the mark at a distance, especially in the hands of a Nervous Nelly like Mort. She’d learned that the time she did that guest appearance on
Dragnet
, by God.

Reaching the shelter of the thicket, she ducked down as far as her stiff back would let her, and veered off to the right, toward the road.

Another gunshot sang out through the trees, sounding much, much closer this time. In fact, it sounded like it came from a different direction altogether! Why, the old fart was faster on his feet than she’d imagined! She’d better get a move on if she expected to get out of this little predicament alive.

Scurrying through the undergrowth, she realized minutes had passed in silence. Instead of Mort’s curses and gunfire, she heard the revving of an engine. A moment later, the squeal of tires filled the air as the Caddy left the glade and hit the pavement. Through the rough tree trunks that nearly obscured her view, Sadie could barely make out the black car tearing off up the road like the proverbial bat out of hell.

So. He’d gone and left her out here in the middle of nowhere, had he? Probably expected her to die. Well, she wouldn’t!

Straightening her spine, she scoffed and turned, and ran smack into a solid wall of muscle and bone. She gasped for air as strong hands took hold of her arms.

Her first thought was that Mortie hadn’t taken off. So who was in the car . . .

Raising her chin, she looked into her captor’s face, and gasped again. Why, it wasn’t Mortie a’tall.

“Hey, Sadie,” he said, smiling down into her eyes. “You okay?”

“Fl-Flynn?” she muttered, on what little breath she had in her lungs. “Flynn Corrigan? What on God’s green earth are you doing out here?”

Oh, my,
she thought.
This could be very good, or very bad.

Releasing her arms, he said, “You’re quite a woman, Sadie Lancaster.”

“I know. Now, what
are
you doing here?”

He shrugged, gently took her arm, and began escorting her back the way she’d come. “Followed you,” he said. “I’ve sort of been watching your farm. When I saw you leave with Mortimer this morning, I trailed along behind. Good thing, too, considering.”

“You followed us?” She narrowed one eye on him. “How come Mort didn’t see you? He looked in the rearview mirror every two seconds.”

Flynn smiled again, and those ice blue eyes glittered. “I’m real good at what I do.”

And just what might that be, exactly?
He’d been watching her farm? That could either be very good, or very bad.

As they walked, she noticed that big fence again, off to her right, buried deep in the thicket. Now that she’d had a chance to think about it, she realized where it must lead.

Taking in a fortifying breath, she figured she might as well get this show on the road. Flynn was either going to help her, or not. She was all run out, so the jig was up, no matter how you looked at it. “Do you have a cell phone?”

“Yes, but the reception down in the valley is pretty iffy.” He tilted his head. “Who do you want to call?”

Giving him the once-over, she decided to tell him the truth, everything, at least as much as she knew of everything. “I hope you like surprises, Flynn, because this one’s a doozy.”

As she explained about Mortie, the disarticulation, Detective McKennitt, and the place with the gate Mortie had taken her to that time, Flynn remained quiet. When she finished, she said, “So I need to use your cell phone to call Detective McKennitt to let him know I found the gate.”

Flynn stopped walking and turned her to face him. “You say you found the gate?”

She gestured toward the trees. “See back in there? You can just make out a chain-link fence. If you follow it a little more north, I’m betting you’ll find that gate.”

Flynn peered into the thicket, pursed his lips, then blew out a long breath. “I’ll be damned.” Nodding slowly, he reached under his jacket. But instead of pulling out a cell phone, he pulled out a revolver.

“Well, Sadie. I hope you like surprises, too, because now it’s my turn.”

Ransom
What you did after you walked some.

Kevin LeRoy’s ass was numb. He’d been sitting in the damn bushes for an hour, slapping at bugs, trying to keep his legs from going to sleep while he watched the farmhouse. But so far, that handyman’s truck hadn’t budged, and there was no way he was going to approach Claire with that prick anywhere on the property.

LeRoy had found a damn good spot near the blackberry vines at the back of the house from which he could observe, yet remain unobserved. He could see the kitchen door and the barnyard, and even catch conversation, when the wind was with him.

Smacking his forearm, he cursed every mosquito on the planet. Though he’d had to park a mile away and hike to the farm, he was glad he’d been so cautious. Some PHPD cruiser kept driving by every half hour or so, checking the place out. Something was going on, and he really wanted to know what.

“. . . and keep the doors locked.” A man’s voice, familiar. LeRoy peered through the branches. McKennitt, emerging from the kitchen door. And Claire. He cocked his head to listen.

“Don’t go outside for any reason,” McKennitt warned. “And don’t open the door to anyone . . . especially . . .”

What was that? Especially
who
? Shit, he missed it.

“. . . We’ll find her. I promise.”

Hmm. Perhaps that was information he could use to his advantage.

Then McKennitt put his arms around Claire and kissed her. He felt his fingers curl tightly into his palms. He knew it, he just knew it. Handyman, his numb ass.

As McKennitt got in his truck and tore off, Claire closed the kitchen door.

When the truck was out of sight, LeRoy stood, brushing dirt and leaves from his clothes. His right leg was tingly, but a little exercise should clear that up.

Moving silently across the small side yard, he edged up close to the house. The day was heating up, the upstairs windows were open. He could climb up there, but he was wearing the wrong shoes, and besides, that cop car might come along when he was halfway up or down, and that would be awkward to explain.

He thought he heard a noise, like somebody talking, then he remembered the old lady’s parrot. Must be Hutch or Dutch or whatever in the hell the bird’s name was, chattering mindlessly away.

The closer he got to the open window, the louder the bird got. Too bad he couldn’t get in and kill the little son of a bitch. That’d shake everybody up. Not only would he be getting back at Claire for spurning him, it would escalate her fear factor.

“. . . men are bastards . . .”

Yeah, tell me about it, beak brain
.

“. . . you talkin’ to me? . . .”

Parrot au vin
, he thought. Slowly roasted over an open fire. He could have the little fart plucked and barbecued before—

“. . . Detective McKennitt . . . men are bastards . . . Detective McKennitt . . .”

LeRoy froze, then slowly backed behind a large rhododendron. There must be some kind of mistake, or maybe it was a joke. That bird could not
possibly
have said . . .

But Claire had told him the little shithead was smart, repeating nearly everything it ever heard. Still . . .

“. . . you talkin’ to me? . . . McKennitt . . . Detective . . . shut up, Hitch! . . .”

Well, now. If that didn’t just change everything.

She’d not only spurned him, she’d betrayed him. Worse, she’d betrayed his kids. And after he’d told her about Brenda, after he’d practically gotten down on his knees and begged Claire to help him win back custody of his kids.

Rubbing his temples, he fought to keep his anger under control. Damn. How could she? How
could
she!

Did the cops know about the harvesting? Was that why they’d enlisted her help? If they thought they could use her to try and trap him, they were every bit as stupid as they looked.

All the way back to his car, he thought of Claire and what he’d do to her when he got her alone. Without her help, he’d lose his children. After all his hard work, after all his sacrifices, he’d lose his kids because the stupid bitch had betrayed him!

She needed to be punished for that, needed to be shown how painful that kind of loss could be. Her duplicity would cost her; the price would be high. But first, she needed to be taught a lesson. A good, hard lesson.

As he slid behind the wheel of the car, he pulled out the cell phone he’d copped from some guy’s pocket a while back. Adjusting the rearview mirror, he looked into his own eyes for a moment, feeling like the sucker he was.

Connecting with the Port Henry PD, he said, “I’d like to speak with Detective McKennitt.”

“What does this concern, sir?”

“I have information on the Ketterer murder.”

“I see. It would be best if you could come in—”

“No,” he rushed. “No, I just want to talk to him. I want to remain anonymous.”

“All right. I can take the information, if you like, and pass it on to one of them.”

“One of them? You have two Detective McKennitts?”

“Yes, sir. One’s with the Seattle PD, and the other works out of Port Henry.”

No shit. “Are they related or something? Father and son? Brothers?”

There was a momentary pause, then, “Did you wish to leave some information about the Ketterer case, sir?”

He ended the call.
Two
. Two McKennitts, and one of them was Claire’s boyfriend. Well, if nothing else, it confirmed the parrot’s idiotic chatter.

Think, think, think
.

Yes, okay, yes. If he couldn’t get into her house, maybe he could coax her to come outside. Of course he could. It might take a bit of doing, but he was smart, and more than that, he was clever.

Grinning, he cranked the ignition and put the SUV in gear. A phone book. He needed a phone book.

How much did the cops know? he wondered. Ah, hell, it didn’t matter. He’d just change his identity again and start over somewhere else. But Crystal and Josh were another matter. Damn Claire for doing this to him!

Well, the game wasn’t over yet. She
would
help him get his kids back, whether she wanted to or not.

Claire stood in the silence of her bedroom, gazing out the window at the stars twinkling high above in the indigo sky. A wisp of cloud veiled the moon, heralding the arrival of fog in the morning.

“Please be all right,” she whispered to the darkness. “Aunt Sadie. Please, please be all right.”

She glanced at her watch. Half past ten. Taylor had been gone all day and evening. He’d called her several times, but so far, no new information.

Her phone rang. “Yes, hello, Taylor? Any news?”

“Not yet,” he said, his voice weary, yet somehow reassuring. “Try not to worry, okay? We’re on it, and won’t rest until we have her home again.”

It was suddenly too much. She caved. Hot tears scalded her cheeks, and she hurried to wipe them away. “I understand,” she whispered. “Do you have any leads at all?”

“Mortimer’s still missing, too,” he said. “We think they’re together. Maybe he came by to talk to her, they went for a drive, and the car broke down. That’s probably all it is.”

Wiping her tears on her sleeve, she said, “Sure. That’s probably all it is.”

“Oh, and we have a positive ID on Thursby. His real name’s Kevin LeRoy. We think he’s Mortimer’s partner.”

“I see.” Adam. A criminal. Bizarre, but not totally unexpected, given his actions of late.

“I meant to tell you all this earlier,” Taylor continued, “but we’ve been busy following up leads all day. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I understand. It’s hard to believe, about Adam, I mean, but when I think about it, it makes the most sense.”

She walked back to the window and stared out into the nothingness. “He ran me off the road, stole my stuff, tried to burn down the barn, and poisoned me.” Shaking her head, she said, “
Why
? I didn’t know a thing about his business with Mort.”

Taylor blew out a long sigh. “That wasn’t it. Based on the reports I’m getting from Portland, it’s been his MO when he wants something, especially from a woman. He thought by secretly intimidating you, you’d turn to him for strength. Even marry him.”

“But why
me
?” Her throat hurt from choking back more tears. She needed to be strong, needed to keep it together. It wouldn’t do her aunt any good for her to fall apart.

“You’ll have a chance to ask him when I catch the son of a bitch,” Taylor said. “For your own safety, I’d like to have Winslow bring you down to the station.”

“No,” she said. “No, I’m staying here in case Aunt Sadie comes back. The house is locked. I’m safe, and as you say, you’ve got the cruiser coming by every half hour or so. I’ll be fine.”

“Claire?”

She sniffed. “Yeah?”

“I won’t let you down,” he said softly. “I swear it.”

Nodding to the phone, she ended the call, and wiped the tears from her eyes. Just as she sat on the bed, her phone chimed again.

“Yes, Taylor?” she rushed. “Was there something else?”

“Sorry, honey. It’s not your boyfriend.”

Adam
.

For a moment, she didn’t know what to say.
I know all about you, you son of a bitch
! probably wouldn’t get her far. Was he aware she knew who he was, what he’d done?

Swallowing, she took a moment to settle her nerves.

“Adam,” she said slowly. “Aunt Sadie is missing. Do you know anything about it?”

There was silence for a moment. “Why would I know anything about your aunt?”

“Well, you wouldn’t, but it’s a fairly small town. I thought maybe you might have seen her.”

There was silence for a moment, then, “Maybe I have.”

Her stomach tightened and she placed her palm at her waist. “What do you mean?”

“I want to see you.” It was a statement of fact, not a request.

“I’m afraid that’s impossible right now. Like I said, Aunt Sadie—”

“Claire,” he growled. “I want to see you, and I will. I am a little miffed at you, though. Why didn’t you tell me your handyman friend was a detective?”

“H-how did you—”

“Let’s just say a little bird told me.”

Okay, find out what he’s up to, and call Taylor.

“All right, Adam. I’ll meet you. Where are you?”

“Nice try,” he said. “Now, here’s what you’re going to do. The cruiser that’s been circling the wagons all day isn’t due back for another twenty minutes. You’re going to walk out the back door, up the driveway, and onto the main road. When you get there, start walking toward town. I’ll pick you up.”

“No. That’s no good. Aunt Sadie might come back, and I need to be—”

“Aunt Sadie isn’t
coming
back, Claire,” he bit out. “But you
will
meet me, and you will do it now, and here’s why.”

Claire heard movement, a rustling sound, then Adam’s voice again. “Say hello to your friend.”

She listened as a heartbreakingly familiar voice panted, “
Don’t do it
, Claire . . . Stay
away
. . . Call Soldier. He’ll know—”

The woman’s words were cut off by what sounded like a slap.

“Betsy!” she screamed, clutching the phone in a hand suddenly gone sweaty. “No! Betsy! Are you all right? Betsy!”

Cold chills ran down her spine and her brain ceased to function. Her eyes filled with angry tears. She felt her jaw tighten, her fingers curl into tight fists.

“She’s fine,” Adam drawled. “For the time being. You know, for a small town, there sure are a lot of cops named McKennitt, and as luck would have it, one of them has a very pregnant wife.”

“No!” she sobbed. “You can’t! Let her go! I’ll do what you want. I’ll do
whatever
you want. Please—”

“Yes,” he snapped. “You
will
do whatever I want.”

Pausing for a moment, he said evenly, “If I don’t see your fine little ass up on that road in the next three minutes, your friend dies. And you know what else? It’ll be very slow and very painful.”

“Adam,” she begged in as calm a voice as she could muster. “Adam. Don’t do this. Please Adam don’t . . .”

But the line had already gone quiet. She stared down at her watch, then at her dressing table. She had two minutes left.