Peppermint Creek Inn (45 page)

Matt frowned. If he didn’t know any better he could swear she was up to something.

“Hurry up,” Whitey growled impatiently.

Matt caught her quick glance at him as she headed for the refrigerator. It took a long time for her to drain the cup as she stood with the fridge door open, but finally she was finished. And when she rejoined them, Matt had the distinct feeling Sara’s demeanor had changed. And changed for the better.

—

They took two vehicles. Sara drove her truck with Pauline sitting in the passenger seat, a gun trained on her all the time. Tom sat in the passenger seat of the sedan with his hands still cuffed behind him. Whitey drove.

If he didn’t have to think about Sara’s safety, he would have easily been able to get away by lifting his feet and crushing Whitey against the driver side door. But Whitey had probably anticipated such a move and conveniently taken two vehicles to compensate.

Whitey remained quiet as he drove, allowing Tom to concentrate on a way of getting Sara and himself out of this mess. A moment later, he found himself leaning forward, when up ahead on the highway, off in the not-so-far distance, through the early morning light, he made out a red car zipping along the highway toward them.

His heart began a quick beat.

Could it be Jo returning?

It was at that moment, the two vehicles swung off the main highway onto a gravel road that led them down a steep hill. He glanced out the back window just in time to see the red Mustang whiz past.

His heart sank. Jo sat in the car. And she hadn’t seen them. He slumped dejectedly against his seat. They were on their own now.

After a few minutes, the road narrowed. Branches scraped eerily against the sedan. Towering jack pines shot upward into the heavens blocking their view from the increasingly brightening stormy sky. The road grew bumpy then abruptly grew smooth as they drove over a long carpet of moss. A few minutes later, the two vehicles came to a halt.

Tom’s jaw dropped open in shock. Up ahead, a police cruiser blocked the road. And leaning against the car, smoking a cigarette was Justin Jeffries.

“Uh-oh, now we’re in trouble,” Tom said coolly.

“Shut up, Matt,” Whitey growled as he swooped out of the car and came around to the passenger side to let him out.

The air felt heavy with the promise of rain and cool wind played with Tom’s face as he got out of the car. His wrists pulled in frustration against his restraints as he watched Justin’s lip turn into an evil sneer.

“I thought you looked familiar when I saw you in town,” Justin Jeffries drawled. “You were just born to be a chalk outline, Matt. I only wish I could be there to do the honors.”

“Hmm. Is that necklace you’re wearing a souvenir from one of your other chalk outlines? If I remember correctly it has a bullet hanging from it.”

“Shut up you son of a bitch,” Justin yelled.

Whitey shook a stern finger at his son. “You keep that temper of yours under control, son.”

“What about the necklace?” Sara asked breathlessly. She’d taken the bait and his stomach soured.

“Don’t, Sara,” Justin pleaded.

“No, I want to know.”

He was really beginning to feel sick now. Using the woman he loved to bait these two was unforgivable. But he needed to get Jeffries antsy. Needed to get his old man pissed off at him. He knew Whitey didn’t like it when his son and daughter got angry.

Anger in his kids was the one visible weakness he had. It irritated him. He didn’t want them around when they were pissed off about something.

He needed to get them apart. Divide them. Divide and conquer.

“Dad, get the dammed evidence from him and let’s get this over with,” Justin whined.

“Is it… You have the bullet that killed my husband hanging around your neck?”

The disbelief in Sara’s voice almost brought Matt to his knees.

Sara grabbed at Justin’s shirt, ripping it open. The two top buttons flew into the air.

Gleaming happily against his hairy chest hung the bullet on a chain.

“Good God. You’re insane,” Sara cried and pushed Justin away from her.

She whirled around to face Matt. He could have died from the hurt look in her eyes. Her lower lip quivered uncontrollably. He wished he could take her into his arms to comfort her, but he couldn’t let them know how much he loved her.

“I have a witness who heard them talking,” he told Sara softly.

“Who?” Justin interjected. “The only ones down there was Sam, you and me.”

“I’m the witness.”

“That’s not possible. You were unconscious.”

“I let you think I was. I heard the whole thing. Sam telling you how much he was interested in Sara. How he should tell her you were Jack’s killer. How he’d seen you kill Jack with the final bullet, then took his journal, where he’d written down the whereabouts of the amethyst mine on her property.”

“Please stop, Tom,” Sara whispered. She was pale and shaky. He ached to take her into his arms. But he couldn’t. He had to keep his emotions under control.

“Sounds like you’ve been real busy, baby brother,” Pauline chuckled as she shook her head in disbelief. “You told me you had your eye on some married woman but I never expected you to go this far. Killing her husband in cold blood? And wearing a necklace with the bullet that did him in? That’s crude. Even for you.”

“If you don’t shut up, I’ll blow your head off,” Justin yelled at his sister. His hand flew to his holster. “Then I’ll blow his off. He’s lying. That’s not the way it happened.”

“I’ve had enough of this bickering,” Whitey snapped. “You head back to town, Justin. See if you can’t make some inquiries and see what evidence Garry and that Brady woman have on us. Kill them if you have to. Matt will show Pauline and me where he stashed the goods.”

“But what about Sara?” Justin whispered desperately.

Whitey’s eyes narrowed into mere slits. “I’ve made a deal with Matt about her. You just get yourself back to town. Get an alibi. This is the end of our conversation.”

Justin appeared to want to say something then thought better of it. His shoulders sagged in defeat as he climbed back into the cruiser. Wheels spinning, kicking up dirt, Justin Jeffries took off.

Matt sighed with quiet relief.

One down.

Two to go.

—

Sara felt as if each step were her last. She had no idea how she kept going but something deep inside her urged her to put one foot in front of the other. To keep plodding along. To be ready. That Tom had a plan. That’s the only reason he’d been acting in this horrid way toward her.

Justin had killed her husband and her children. And he wore the missing bullet around his neck. As if it were some sort of trophy.

Tom had been right all along about Justin. And yet she’d still had doubts he’d been involved simply because Justin and Jack had been partners and seemingly such good friends. Now that she’d seen the missing bullet hanging around Justin’s neck, she burned with anger.

She hadn’t noticed the disappearance of Jack’s journal until months after he’d been murdered, not until she’d been able to think clearly enough to remember the strange conversation they’d had on the morning of his death.

They’d been lying in bed, listening to the cheerful chattering of the wild birds outside. Jack’s large hand had been cradling her slightly swollen stomach. His cornflower blue eyes had been so sober when he’d said, “If something ever happens to me, Sara, I want you to give my journal to Dad. He’ll know what to do with it.”

Sara cuddled closer to him trying to dispel the cold shiver his words had caused.

“Nothing’s going to happen to you, Jack,” she had soothed. “The men at the mill are uttering death threats because they’re upset about you helping the government. Things will calm down eventually.”

He’d smiled at her in answer. But the smile hadn’t quite reached his dark eyes. He’d reached for her and they’d made love for the last time.

Sara jolted as Whitey stumbled on the slippery trail in front of her. Her mouth went dry and her knees suddenly shook. Hopefully Whitey wouldn’t turn around and see what she was doing. Twisting her hands at an odd angle, Sara jammed the makeshift key into the hole and began working on the cuffs.

—

Matt eyed the brooding sky. Thunder crackled somewhere to the north. The plan he’d been formulating depended on the weather. Hopefully if the rain held off and the mist stayed thick, he might be able to get them out of this mess.

When he’d awoken this morning, he’d discovered most of his memories intact. He remembered Whitey lifting the gun, pointing it at Robin’s face. Remembered how horribly helpless he’d felt as Whitey pulled the trigger. How Robin’s body had jerked wildly when the bullet ripped through his throat.

He remembered his buddy murmur something about the nearby suitcase and other words he hadn’t been able to understand. He remembered Whitey, Pauline and Scout hovering around him like vultures, glass crunching wickedly beneath their feet as they’d watched him fervently try to stop the blood from spurting out of Robin. Yelling at them to call 911.

“He’s practically dead,” Whitey had replied coldly. “And you are a murderer.”

Then he’d heard Robin’s death rattle. A ghastly sound he’d never forget as long as he lived.

Realizing Robin was beyond help, the full implications of Whitey’s words impacted Matt. Whitey was setting him up for Robin’s death. He’d grabbed the briefcase with the money and run.

Their gunshots had miraculously missed him as he’d raced into Robin’s bathroom locked the door and crashed through the window. Heading over to where he’d stashed his bike, he’d hopped onto his vehicle and raced off.

The trail veered sharply to the right bringing him out of his thoughts. He cast a quick glance at Sara. From the firm set of her lovely jaw and the somewhat shaky smile she cast his way, he allowed himself to hope that she was also working on a plan.

He’d need all the help he could get.

—

Sara’s fingers tightened around the ballpoint pen she was using as a makeshift key to the handcuffs. She almost let out a whoop of joy when the handcuffs snapped open and teetered precariously on her wrists. With some quick fancy maneuvering, she was able to keep the cuffs from falling off.

Keeping her eyes glued to Whitey’s back in front of her she had to remain alert. Waited for Tom’s sign.

Sara tensed when Tom veered sharply to the right. He turned around and for a split second their gazes locked. She threw him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, to let him know she suddenly understood where they were going.

She allowed the tip of the ballpoint to slip slightly out from between her fingers. Enough to become a miniature weapon and then she prepared herself for all hell to break loose.

As if on cue, Tom came to a dead halt. Whitey cursed loudly as he almost crashed into the back of him.

“Why are you stopping?” he hissed anxiously.

“We’re here,” Tom said casually.

Sara didn’t miss the cruel smile ripple across Whitey’s lips. God she hoped the plan worked.

Tom pointed to the other side of the familiar meadow in front of a debilitated cabin.

“It’s inside that log over there.”

“You go ahead. Show me,” Whitey instructed.

Sara’s blood ran icy cold. She hadn’t anticipated this problem. Her mind raced for an answer. Help came from an unexpected source.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Dad. Just get it,” Pauline urged him.

Whitey threw her a cold look. “Keep them covered.”

Matt and Sara watched anxiously as Whitey struggled through the scraggly bushes claiming the meadow. Both poised to move at a split-second notice. But nothing happened. Whitey reached the log without a problem and Sara knew they were in trouble.

Sara’s heart pounded frantically against her chest as she watched Whitey lean over and peek inside the hollow.

He looked back at them. A horrible grin sliced his face.

“Are you toying with us, Matt?”

He raised his gun.

Sara flinched as he pointed it at her. “I hope for her sake you aren’t.”

“It’s the wrong log,” Sara said quickly, nodding to the other log. “It’s that one over there.”

All eyes flew to another fallen log a few feet to the right of this one.

Whitey grinned as he scrambled to his feet.

“You’ve got a lovely lady there, Matthew. She’s smart.”

He headed toward the other log. Suddenly a cry rang out and the earth swallowed Whitey.

With lightning speed, Sara turned. Holding the pen tight she stabbed Pauline’s gun hand. The blonde screamed in pain. An instant later, Tom bowled into Pauline, knocking her and the weapon to the ground.

Sara grabbed for the gun, but froze when dirt flew into the air mere inches from her fingertips.

“My God,” she gasped.

Her mind reeled in confusion as a red-haired man with a pockmarked face stepped out of the bushes. A horrible looking semi-automatic was gripped snugly in his hand.

Beside her, Matt and Pauline stopped struggling.

“What took you so long?” Pauline quipped as she scrambled away from Tom, stooped over and grabbed her gun.

“I’m here,” the man retorted smoothly. “And not a moment too soon, Pauline. You can’t keep your own husband under control?”

He turned to Tom, a fierce hatred in his eyes and a truly high-spirited smile on his ultra-thin lips.

“Greetings, Matty.”

“Scout,” Tom acknowledged stiffly.

This sorry-looking character was Scout McMaster? The supposedly dead arms dealer?

“I should put a bullet in you for deceiving all of us.”

“Go ahead,” taunted Tom. “Right between the eyes. It seems to be in the air around here.”

“If you shoot Tom, then you’re up a creek without a paddle so to speak, aren’t you?” Sara said in the sugariest voice she could gather. She needed to keep this horrible man’s attention off Tom.

Scout swung his gaze on her and she shivered involuntarily at the crazy glint in his stormy blue eyes. He studied her for a long time before replying with obvious interest, “And who are you?”