Thicker than Water (20 page)

My mind raced with the idea. How many African slaves had he helped escape? I had found twelve entries in his ledgers where he'd given five dollars to
S
. But that didn't mean
S
was one person. It could have been a whole family each time. There was simply no way I would ever know. There was also the possibility that
S
didn't mean slave at all. Still, it was exciting just knowing that he'd been a part of the Underground Railroad, and that the Gaheimer House had such an honorable thing to add to its history. There was no mistaking the engraving on the wall.

Now I couldn't sleep. I'd gotten my mind thinking and working, and now I was wide awake. It wasn't fair.

I threw back the covers and went to my office adjacent to the bedroom. I booted up the computer and checked my mail. Laura James from the Iowa page had answered me.

Torie,

Thank you so much for the info. It's at least a lead that I can follow now. How's it going with the O'Shaughnessys?

Laura

I jotted a response and went to Google to begin my search for Wayne Junction. Within half an hour I knew where the photograph of Millie O'Shaughnessy had been taken: on the corner of Wayne Junction and Germantown Avenue in Germantown, Pennsylvania. Germantown is no longer separate from Philadelphia, but at one time it was its own city. It was made part of Philadelphia sometime in the 1850s. I knew this because I actually had a few ancestors—Mennonites—from Germantown. They left in the early seventeen hundreds, though, so I'd had no reason to do any research on the modern-day city.

I rubbed my eyes and yawned. All right, now I knew where the photograph had been taken, but it didn't really get me any closer to knowing who the girl was or how Sylvia had known her or how she fit into Sylvia's life. And why the heck did I care?

I think you have forgotten your promise
.

That was why.

Well, whatever the promise had been, I wasn't going to figure it out tonight. I went to the window and looked out at the river. The moon glinted off of the water like frosting on a deep blue cake. I reached for the phone and dialed Wisteria General Hospital. I asked for the ICU, and the nurse answered. It was after midnight, but there's always somebody awake in a hospital. “Yes, I was wondering if you could tell me how Mike Walker is doing?”

“Are you a member of the family?”

Why do they always ask that? It makes me think the worst. “No, I'm just a friend.”

“He's doing pretty good,” she said. “He's stabilized. He's in a lot of pain, but I think he's out of the woods.”

“That's good,” I said. “When can he have visitors?”

“As long as it's only for a few minutes, you can come tomorrow,” the nurse said.

“Thanks,” I said.

I hung up the phone and went back to staring out at the river. I needed to pop in a movie—a boring one—and try to fall asleep. But watching the water was hypnotic, too, and if I stared at it long enough I would fall asleep standing right there. I love big bodies of water. They are so soothing. I have never lived in a place that is landlocked. No water for fifty miles in any direction—I can't imagine what that's like. If for no other reason, the Mississippi is great because it always gives you a sense of direction. If you're headed toward the river, you're headed east, at least in Granite County. But I love the sound of the water more than anything, and since the only things separating my house and the river were my yard, River Pointe Road, and the railroad tracks, I was close enough to hear it.

Just then I saw a silhouette walking along the river. It was human, as opposed to animal. The person was walking head down, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Then, almost as if he knew I was watching, he stopped and turned right toward my house. A full minute must have passed as the silhouette stared up at my house. Just standing there.

I shivered all the way to my toes. “Rudy!” I ran to the bed. “Rudy, wake up.”

“I don't care where the dog pooped, I'm fishing.”

“Rudy!” I said and shook him.

“What?” he screeched. “What? What?”

“There's somebody outside.”

In the moonlight I could see the confusion on his face. His eyes crossed and he rubbed them. “Are you telling me you woke me up to tell me somebody is outside?”

“Yes.”

“He's outside, we're inside. What's the problem?”

“Rudy, come and look!” I tugged on his arm.

He scratched his armpit and yawned. “You know, I only married you because I want to be beatified when I die.”

“Great, come here!” I said, still tugging on his arm.

He made his way around the pile of dirty clothes, managed to step on Fritz—who went scurrying under the bed—and stumbled over a pile of books. When his toe hit a box, he'd had his fill. “Dammit, Torie! If you want me to walk in the dark, you better make sure the path is clear! Oh, my toe!”

“Sorry,” I said.

“This better be good.”

“Right there,” I said and hid behind the curtains. “Out there by the river.”

Rudy said nothing as he looked out.

“Do you see him?”

“Torie,” he said, “it's one of the homeless. You know, they walk the railroad tracks all the time.”

“No, no,” I said. “They don't usually stare at you through the window and look menacing.”

“Maybe he's wishing he had this house. You know, maybe he's thinking back to his former life.”

I smacked myself in the head. “Ugh. He was staring right at me.”

“Well, when I saw him, he turned and walked away. He's probably just dreaming of life in a real house,” Rudy said. “I can't believe you actually woke me up for this.” He walked back to our bedroom and hit the same box with his toe on the way back. This time he let out a string of expletives a mile long. My name was attached to a few of them.

I looked back out the window and the person was gone.

Just as I turned to go I saw him standing under the tree in our front yard.

“Rudy!”

“Oh, for God's sake, woman!”

“He's in our front yard, under the tree!”

“Call 911,” he said. “Don't turn on the lights.”

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Down to be with the kids.”

“All right.”

I didn't dial 911. When you're the stepdaughter of the sheriff, you call the source directly. It's faster. The switchboard secretary answered. “Peg, it's Torie. Get somebody out here, now!”

“What's the problem, Torie?” Peg asked.

“Prowler. He's on our property. With what's been going on at the Gaheimer House, this can't be a coincidence.”

“Gotcha. Colin's on his way out the door.”

I slammed the phone down and ran down the steps. “Rudy?”

“In here,” he said.

I hit the bottom step into the kitchen, rounded the corner, and ran down the hallway to where he stood. I was out of breath and slightly hysterical. My breath came in ragged gasps.

“Calm down,” he said. “Shh. Let's not wake the kids if we don't have to.”

Just then I heard glass shatter. I screamed, and Rudy clamped his hand over my mouth. “Get Matthew. I'll get the girls.”

Another window broke somewhere in the house. The glass shrieked as it was hit and then crashed to the ground. I grabbed Matthew out of his bed in the dark and met Rudy back in the hallway.

“Daddy? What's wrong?” Rachel asked. Another window broke and she screamed. “Oh, my God!”

“What's happening?” Mary cried.

“To the garage, everybody.”

Rudy was smart. There were no windows in the garage. What's more, we could get to it without leaving the house, then drive away. Rudy and I managed to herd the kids and ourselves into the garage. Then he turned and locked the door behind him. “Get in the car!”

We tried to do as he instructed, but the girls were sobbing and Matthew was now wide awake. Matthew reached for Rachel and she took him, trying to be the brave big sister. Once my arms were free, Mary grabbed my legs. “Honey, get in the car,” I said. My hands shook and my voice cracked. I tried to stay strong for my children, but deep down I just wanted to cry and run. I'd like to think that if Rudy hadn't been there I would have been smart enough to think of the garage, but I'm not sure I would have.

“Sit with me!” Mary cried.

I got in the backseat with her and placed her on my lap. Rachel hugged Matthew close. I didn't know my heart could beat this fast or this hard. “Rudy, did you get the keys?”

“I grabbed them off the shelf as we came by.”

Rudy sat perfectly still for a moment.

“What's the matter?” I said from the backseat.

“If I open this door and he's standing there…”

“No, Daddy! Don't open the door,” Rachel cried. “Just wait for Grandpa to come.”

“Maybe she's right, Rudy,” I said. “Colin's on his way. Besides, the guy has made so much noise, he's probably taken off by now. Let's just wait and see.”

Rudy's shoulders relaxed a bit, and he sat back against the seat. “Okay, everybody just calm down,” he said. “Let's be quiet and listen.”

The children couldn't be quiet. They were far too scared. “All right,” I said. “Let's sing a song.”

“Oh, right, Mom,” Rachel said.

I flicked her ear. “Let's sing,” I said. “How about one of those songs you guys learned at camp last year? Something about a baby kangaroo. That's my favorite. Come on, how does it go?”

Mary started singing, and then Rachel, reluctantly and through sobs and snot, joined in. There we sat in the dark garage singing some stupid song about a pink kangaroo, tears running down our faces, our house being violated, until there was a bang on the garage door.

My heart stopped and I clutched at Mary. The girls both squealed.

“Shhh, everybody shut up,” Rudy said.

We all did our best to be quiet when we heard the bang again—and then a muffled voice. “Rudy? Torie? It's Colin!”

“Oh, thank God,” Rachel said.

“Grandpa Badge!” Mary cried out.

Rudy hit the button on the garage door opener, and as the door raised I could see Colin's feet, then his torso, and finally his face, looking mean and pissed off. His hand rested on the butt of his gun. I can honestly say that I have never been so happy to see any human being in all of my life. I laid my head back and swallowed.

Then I lost it. Sobs broke free, and I cried into Mary's back.

Twenty-Six

We spent the night at Colin and my mother's house. When we awoke the next morning—after a fitful night's sleep—Colin had four rocks sitting on his kitchen table. Four big rocks in plastic evidence bags. Next to them were four pieces of paper and a dozen or so rubber bands in plastic evidence bags. The pieces of paper all simply read, “Move, or be moved.”

I have never been so cold. It was a coldness that began in my stomach and feathered out to the tips of my fingers and toes. Even my heart was cold. As a result, I felt as if my blood were slugging along in my veins, not really in any hurry to get to its destination.

“What does this mean?” my mother said. Her eyes were wide with fear, and her chin trembled slightly when she spoke.

“I think, Mom, somebody is trying to get me out of town.”

“First they attack you at the Strawberry Festival,” Rudy said.

“Then the historical society vote,” Colin said.

“The attempts at making you afraid in the Gaheimer House,” Rudy said.

“Mike Walker,” Colin added.

“And now my family,” I finished.

“Whoever it is, they're a ball of contradictions,” Rudy said.

“What do you mean?” I asked and hugged myself.

“Well, on one hand, they're gutsy enough to attack a family that is widely loved and supported
and
related to the sheriff. Me,” Colin said. “Shows a complete lack of respect for authority. On the other hand, they didn't kill you or Mike Walker, so they're not gutsy enough to commit murder.”

“Thank goodness,” my mother said.

“Their behavior also goes a long way to prove that they want everything left intact when you go,” Colin said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean they're banking on you either selling the Gaheimer House or giving it to somebody, along with everything in it. You walk off and leave the officer's chairs wide open, as well. In other words, whoever is after what Sylvia left you would be free to try to obtain it,” Colin said.

“Isn't that sort of short-sighted?” I asked. “Won't we be able to figure out that whoever buys the Gaheimer House would be the one who did all of this?”

“Maybe not. Maybe they're working with somebody else. Maybe they've got a puppet to install. Or maybe it's not about their getting the Gaheimer House and historical society. Maybe it's just all about you not getting it,” Colin said. “Whichever, we've got definitive proof now of what their ultimate goal is. Getting you to move.”

“Does the perp think this will work?” I said.

My mother handed me a glass of Dr Pepper and one of her world-famous apricot bars. Comfort food. She's so good. I took a bite and, believe it or not, my stomach lurched and it nearly didn't go down.

“I don't know,” Colin said.

“I mean, everybody knows now that somebody is trying to run me out of town.”

“It could be they thought you would react differently to the whole historical society thing,” he said.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning they didn't expect you to take your toys and go home. They didn't expect you to take the Gaheimer House and tell them to found their own historical society. If you lost the vote, they expected you to hand everything over quietly. And just because you won the vote doesn't mean that you wouldn't have been removed from office by some later scandal,” Colin said.