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Just stopped by to check and see if you’d heard from Emory overnight.
That had been Knight’s explanation for their unannounced arrival. He’d accepted it at the time, but as he thought back on it, he wondered why Knight hadn’t simply telephoned to ask. Had he and Grange been checking up on him? Did they still suspect him of wrongdoing?
Call him paranoid, but…
The door to the suite had narrow glass panels flanking it. Keeping his body out of sight, he peered through one of the panes. On the far side of the parking lot sat an unmarked car, noticeable because it was seemingly so innocuous. The driver’s door window had been lowered only far enough to accommodate a cigarette whose smoke curled up into the fog and became part of it.
Amateur surveillance at best. But Jeff still had to get around it. He was deliberating on how to accomplish that when he heard Alice’s voice coming from the bedroom upstairs. Maybe she’d called the clinic to check in. Or maybe not.
He crossed the living area to the staircase and climbed the carpeted treads as lightly and as silently as possible. The bedroom door stood ajar. He heard her say in a frantic undertone, “But now I think your suspicions have merit.”
Damn her! Damn her and Emory both!
His outrage mounted as he listened to one incriminating sentence after another. She outlined his plan with the Floyds. Then, “Emory? Emory, are you there?” She must have been redialing as she repeated in an urgent whisper, “Come on, come on, answer.”
Then, “You’re serious about going up there? Then there’s something you should know. Jeff has a pistol.”
After that, silence.
He put the tip of his index finger to the door and pushed it open, following it as it swung inward until he was standing in the door jamb. She’d been sitting on the bed. When she saw him, she came quickly to her feet, trying but failing to conceal her fear.
“Jeff. I thought you’d left.”
“I got sidetracked.” He looked pointedly at the phone clutched in her hand and made a tsking sound. His gaze came back to connect with hers. “As I told you earlier, Alice, your visit this morning is very untimely.”
* * *
Emory’s hands soon turned slick with nervous perspiration on the steering wheel.
On her way through town, she searched for a police car, any type of official vehicle which she could flag down and ask for help, but saw none. Dialing while driving was risky, especially in the fog, but she took the chance and placed a call to Jack Connell.
After three rings, his phone went to voice mail. In a rush, she said, “It’s Emory. Hayes tore out of here after getting an urgent call from Lisa Floyd. But it’s a trap. Jeff set it up with the brothers. Alice is calling Sergeant Grange with details. Also, she lied about Jeff’s alibi. But the important thing is, get people up to the Floyds’ place immediately. Hayes is walking into danger, and every moment counts. I’m in your rental car on my way up there.”
Suddenly she realized that she was talking into a dead phone. She cried out in dismay and checked her LED, which confirmed that her meager supply of battery power had run out. But at what point during her message?
She tossed the phone into the passenger seat and concentrated on driving. Lisa’s safety, Hayes’s life, depended on her getting there, but the conditions prohibited speed. Since leaving the city limits and taking the mountain road, the fog had grown even thicker. Little was visible beyond the hood of the car. She strained to see through it.
Yesterday, on the way up to Hayes’s cabin, she had focused on the view out her window, which benefitted her now. Landmarks and signposts sighted yesterday guided her and kept her on the right road, when otherwise she would have become hopelessl
y lost. Taking a curve slowly, she saw a familiar row of rural mailboxes. Farther on, the piece of metal yard art shaped like a bear, then the house flying the US flag, the dilapidated and abandoned barn.
She knew she was getting close when she passed a fence lined with hydrangea plants as tall as she. She could imagine a profusion of blue flowers in the summer, but the leafless branches of the shrubs were now ice-encrusted, which was what had drawn her attention to them.
Beyond that fence, how much farther had they traveled before reaching Hayes’s cabin? Two miles? Five? She couldn’t recall.
She drove as fast as she dared, ever in the back of her mind the malice that Norman and Will Floyd harbored for Hayes. Men who would rape their underage sister wouldn’t have any qualms against maiming or killing an enemy.
But Grange would have responded immediately to Alice’s call. Deputies would have been dispatched, and possibly some were already at the Floyds’ place. Connell would also be on his way to help Hayes. Having just now reunited, Connell wouldn’t permit—
The sharp curve appeared suddenly, and she saw it too late to avoid the collision.
The car crashed into the gray wall of rock. The seat belt caught. The airbag deployed. It no doubt saved her life, but the impact was bruising. The interior of the car filled with choking powder.
As soon as the bag deflated, she batted at it and groped blindly for the door handle. She all but fell out of the car, the hood of which had been squashed against the sheer rock face like a soda can.
The soles of her boots lost purchase and she landed hard on her bottom. While she sat there regaining her breath, the cold and wet of the pavement seeped into the seat of her jeans. The discomfort served to revive her.
Pulling herself to her feet, she rested against the side of the car and took inventory of all her parts. She was shaken, and her sternum hurt where the seat belt had caught it, but no bones were broken.
