A Rose From the Dead (26 page)

C
het opened the sauna door, then locked it behind him and charged up the hallway. I heard his boots pounding the oak boards as he ran toward the cab. Quickly I sat up and swung my legs to the floor, so glad that he hadn’t bound my ankles. I managed to get to my feet just as the coach swerved to the right, sending me tumbling back onto the bench.

I rose again and stepped up to the door, pressing my ear against it, trying to hear what was happening outside.

“Open up!” I heard Chet shout. “Whoever you are, open this door at once!”

Eli must have locked himself in the cab.

“Do you know how much this coach cost? Half a million dollars. I swear to God, if you do
anyting
to it, I’ll wring your neck. Pull over right now, before you kill us.”

I couldn’t hear what Eli shouted back, but whatever it was, it made Chet even angrier. He hammered the door with his hands. “If you don’t stop right now, I’ll break down the door.”

At once I heard what sounded like a body slamming against a hard object and guessed Chet was trying to bust into the cab. I couldn’t imagine what Eli was thinking, but if it were me, I’d be feeling the stress.

Then I heard a welcome sound—sirens, many of them. The coach swerved and I fell sideways. The sirens were all around us now. It had to be the police. Why wasn’t Eli stopping?

Suddenly, there was a loud
bang
, and I could only guess that Chet had gotten into the cab. I heard him shouting; then there was a screech of brakes; then a terrible impact that threw me forward. I hit the wall hard. And then there was nothing.

“Abby? Can you hear me? Where are you?”

I opened my eyes but couldn’t see anything in the pitch blackness. Where was I? Why did Marco’s voice sound so far away? I tried to answer and realized something was stuck to my mouth. I went to pull it off only to find that my hands were bound.

“Abby? Can you hear me?”

Marco, I’m in here.
I tried to remember where here was, but my head hurt and my brain felt fuzzy, as if it were cloaked in a heavy blanket. The air was stuffy and hot and singed my nose when I breathed. Slowly I sat up and was able to push to my feet, but as soon as I tried to step forward, I hit a wall. I stepped backward and hit another wall. Had the Urbans locked me in the phone booth again?

“Abby! Shout out your location.”

That was Reilly. I kicked the wall with my shoe in reply, but it made little noise. Sirens blared, as though the phone booth were surrounded by police cars, which triggered a memory of a crash and a tumble through space. And then I remembered. I was in Chet’s sauna.

I had to find the door. The marble was thinner there, providing a better chance of being heard. I dragged one elbow along the wall, turned the corner, and kept going until it hit the handle; then I started kicking again. I pressed my ear against the door and heard footsteps in the distance, so I kicked until my foot tingled and my toes were numb.

The door opened and thick gray smoke poured into the tiny space. A face appeared in the midst of it, and although he held a cloth over his nose and mouth, I knew him at once by those gorgeous brown eyes. Marco! What a welcome sight he was.

Quickly, Marco lifted a corner of the tape that covered my mouth; then in one swift pull, he removed it, the stinging pain causing tears to spill down my cheeks. At once he clamped a damp towel over my face, then picked me up and carried me out of the smoldering wreck.

I looked over his shoulder and saw that the entire front of the coach had been smashed in, the driver’s side was separated from the passenger side by the huge trunk of an oak tree, and black smoke was pouring from under a piece of crumpled metal that must have been the hood. Had Eli and Chet survived?

I was taken into the back of a rescue van and deposited on a padded bench, where my hands were cut free at last. My hunky hero knelt before me, gazing at me with those eyes I loved so dearly. “Sunshine, you came this close”—he held his fingers a millimeter apart—“to being toast.”

As if I needed a reminder. I threw my arms around his ribs and hugged him tightly, soaking up the heat from his body as I trembled from shock and my teeth clattered against one another so hard I feared they’d chip.

“Can she have a blanket?” Marco asked, wrapping his arms around my shivering form. And then a comforting warmth fell over me.

It was only when I felt the shudders subside that I was able to stop my teeth from chattering so I could talk. “Is Eli okay?”

“He was injured in the crash—some contusions and broken bones—but he’ll live.”

“What about Chet?” I asked as a medic crouched in front of me and pressed the end of his stethoscope against my chest.

“A few bumps. Nothing that needs hospitalization.”

“Hey,” Reilly called, climbing into the back of the vehicle. “How are you doing in here?”

“Reilly!” I almost knocked the EMT over in my haste to stand up. “Don’t let Chet get away. He killed Sybil.”

“Calm down, kid,” Reilly said. “Chet’s not going anywhere. We know what he did. Marco heard enough that we were able to piece everything together.”

“Then my call went through?”

“It went through,” Marco said, wrapping the blanket around me once again. “I just didn’t know where it was coming from.”

“Thank God. I was so afraid you wouldn’t be able to hear what was going on.”

“I heard you talking to Eli,” Marco said, “and I figured you’d called me for that reason. But then when Chet started talking, I knew you were in serious trouble. I contacted Reilly, but he already had men searching the grounds, and we didn’t know where else to look. It wasn’t until I heard Chet shouting at Eli to pull over that I realized you were in a vehicle.”

“A few minutes after that,” Reilly said, continuing the story, “I got a report that Chet’s motor coach was careening away from the hotel with an electrical cord dangling behind it, and that’s when we put it all together. When Eli was pulled from the cab, he told us he’d decided the only way to clear his name was to bring the killer to us.”

“He was going to drive that thing all the way back to the New Chapel police station?”

“No, to the state police outpost,” Reilly said. “It’s only a few miles up the interstate.”

“Eli saved me,” I told them. “Chet was about to suffocate me when Eli drove off with the coach. See? My instincts weren’t wrong after all. And Ross
was
the one who met Sybil in the storage room and took her clothes as a prank. Chet came by afterward and heard her calling for help. She asked him for his coat; then they started arguing over the blackmail video, and when she refused to give it to him, he snapped.”

“Whoa,” Reilly said. “What blackmail video?”

Marco said, “We’ll discuss that later. Right now, let’s let the medic finish so we can get out of here.”

“Did you ever find the colonel?” I asked, while the EMT checked my pulse rate.

“No, but I have his phone number. He and I are going to talk, believe me.”

“You’re not going to arrest Eli, are you?” I asked Reilly.

“For what?”

“For carjacking Chet’s motor coach.”

“I didn’t see him do that. Besides, who’s going to complain? Chet? I think he has bigger problems now, don’t you?”

“Thanks, Reilly. That’s a relief. Poor Eli. He was so sure he knew how to identify the killer, but he didn’t realize he’d seen Ross’s shoes, but heard Chet’s laugh. I’m glad he’s been proved innocent. I just hope Ross gets what he deserves. If it wasn’t for him, Sybil wouldn’t have been locked in the storage room.”

“Forget about it,” Reilly said. “You know the law. What he did was stupid and juvenile but not criminal. Don’t worry. Those two jokers will be in trouble again before you know it, and then they’ll get what’s coming to them.”

“Unless their dad intervenes again,” I said with a frustrated huff. “Is it okay if we leave now? I want to get back to the convention center. Lottie and Grace and Max must be frantic, wondering what happened to me, and I don’t have my cell phone to call them. My purse is still in the coach.”

Reilly glanced at the medic, who was checking my skull for signs of injury. “Does your head hurt?” the EMT asked.

“Yeah, but it’s no big deal. I’ll take some aspirin when I get home.”

“You sure you don’t want to have the ER doc check you out?” Reilly asked. “You might have a concussion.”

“I can watch for that,” Marco assured him, giving me that sexy little smile.

“If you feel okay,” Reilly said to me, “then there’s no reason to stick around. I can get a statement from you tomorrow. I’ll try to get your purse for you, too.”

“Thanks, Sarge. You really are super.”

Reilly merely gave me a nod, but I could tell he appreciated the compliment.

“Here, use my phone,” Marco said, reaching into his pocket. “I know Lottie and Grace are worried, because I was talking to them when your call came through.”

I took the slender silver case and punched in Lottie’s number. She answered in a panic, thinking it was Marco on the line. “Did you find Abby? Is she all right?”

“It’s me, Lottie.”

“Abby? Lordy, girl! We’ve been in a stew, worrying about you.”

“I’m fine. Marco and Reilly are here with me. You can let Grace and Max know that we caught the killer.”

“No fooling?”

“You’re not going to believe this, Lottie. It was Chet Sunday.”

“Well, blow me over with a bag of feathers.” She covered the phone to tell Grace, then said, “I’ll call Max and Delilah right now and give them the news. Max left before all the drama started.”

Then Grace got on. “Abby, I’m so relieved you’re all right. You gave us quite a fright, you know. And your mother has rung Lottie at least five times looking for you, so we told her you were busy. I thought it best not to upset her.”

“Good thinking. No need for my parents to know what happened. I’ll call them in a while. Thanks for covering for me. And Grace? You know that talk we had earlier? I really appreciated it. You got me back on track.”

“You were never off track, love. You just needed a bit more light to see the path.”

I ended the call and handed the phone to Marco; then we got into Reilly’s squad car for the short ride back to the convention center. Grace and Lottie were waiting at the back entrance and took turns hugging me and turning me around to check for damage. Later, after strong cups of coffee from a kind clerk at Starbucks, who was just about to close up shop and took pity on us, Marco and the two women packed up the booth in the nearly deserted exhibition hall while I rested on a chair and related my tale of Eli, Chet, and the harrowing motor coach ride.

“Good gracious,” Grace said at the end, shaking her head in wonder. “I’m almost at a loss for words. I guess you’ll have to settle for that old saw, all’s well that end’s well.”

“Hear, hear,” Lottie said.

“You know what we need?” Marco said as the four of us toted boxes out to the van. “A hearty dinner and a couple bottles of wine.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said.

“Delightful,” Grace added.

Lottie shoved her box into the back of the van and turned for another. “I could go for a tall, frosty beer myself.”

“You got it,” Marco said. “Dinner and drinks on the house. You want to ride with me, Sunshine?”

As if he had to ask.

“We’ll meet you at Bloomers to unload,” he told Lottie and Grace, “and then we can head for my bar.”

Or so we had hoped. But on the way, Marco’s cell phone rang, and I had a strong hunch it was going to be bad news again. Which one would it be this time, his bartender or a family member?

“For you,” Marco said, handing me the phone.

Raising my eyebrows in surprise, I said, “Hello?”

It was Nikki. “Abs, omigod, you’ve got to get home right now. I’ve been trying to reach you for an hour. Thank God Marco’s number was in our caller ID. Why did you turn your phone off?”

“Nikki, slow down. What’s wrong?”

“Someone left a big box outside the door with your name on it. I was going to bring it in, but it’s pretty heavy, so I thought I’d check it out first. I made a tiny cut in one corner and peeked inside and—oh, Abby, there are two big, ugly fish lying at the bottom.”

“Fish?”

“Yes! They’re in a net.”

Oh, no. The Urbans were at it again!
“Watch out, Red. One of these days you’ll reel in something you weren’t expecting.”

“What’s happening?” Marco asked.

I held my hand over the phone. “The Urbans left two fish at the apartment.” I uncovered the phone and said, “Nikki, you’ve got to get that box outside right now.”

“They left
fish
at your apartment?” Marco repeated, starting to get angry.

I nodded. “Nikki, it’s a prank. Take the box to the stairs and push it down, or get it into the elevator. Those fish will probably start to stink soon, and if that fish juice leaks through the bottom of the box, we’ll never get rid of the smell.”