A Shadow on the Ground (28 page)

A sharp scratching sound echoed behind her. She shone the light on the ground. The sound moved away, rustling through a mound of tangled underbrush like an animal on the run. The adrenaline overload generated one chilling thought after another. What if Jeremy had fallen into a cave? Or slipped and tumbled into a sinkhole? What if Finch and Mendoza were tracking her? What if they’d come to the farm to threaten Sean and ended up killing Denny? How much had Jeremy seen before he ran away? Too much? Enough to put him in danger? Were Finch and Mendoza after Jeremy to silence him?

She picked up the pace.

The flashlight beam bounced off the trees. The scrub cedars on either side of the path took on an eerie, one-dimensional façade. Their scraggly fronds bobbed in the wind like lace fans and smelled of Christmas. She pressed on, stopping every twenty feet to shine the light along the treetops until she spotted a long, swinging vine of kudzu attached to a high, rounded branch.

She knew where she was.

The line of chestnut trees appeared in front of her. She started running, slashing her way through the overgrowth, tramping through the long grass. She made the left turn, climbed around the rocks, picked her way through the twisted kudzu vines, and flung the car door open. “Jeremy, I'm—”

Empty.

Her heart sank. She shone the light inside the car. Up and down, back and forth, as if she thought he might somehow, magically spring out of thin air.

“Oh, God, Jeremy,” she whispered. “I was so sure.”

She pushed the door closed and leaned against it, staring into the dark.

Where would he have gone? Ethan said he’d headed up Pip’s Hill, but he could have turned right instead of left and taken the long way down to the orchard. By now, he knew his way around the farm. He could be hiding in a tree, or in the ditch across the road, or in the dense mass of wild honeysuckle surrounding Lacey's Pond. He could be lost on the other side of Deer Creek, wandering around, still looking for the kudzu car. The kid was book smart and brilliant. But he was still eleven.

A bloodcurdling shriek cut through the night. Morgan slapped her chest and swallowed air. The knowledge that it was only an owl warning its mate that man was in the forest didn’t stop her from jumping out of her skin. “Calm down,” she whispered. “Just calm the hell down.”

She swung the light across the bank of trees. Thick coils of kudzu blanketed the crowns, streamed down from the branches like long, graceful arms. Most Southerners considered kudzu a curse, the vine that grew a foot each day and couldn’t be killed by a plutonium bomb. But she had always loved it. In a few weeks, it took a plain, ordinary tree and transformed it into something ornate and majestic. Many of the old-timers still believed evil spirits lived in a kudzu forest, ghosts who'd been kicked out of the house for bad behavior and had nowhere else to go. To Morgan, trees wrapped in kudzu were anything but evil. They were mysterious and comforting. They were home.

She took a deep breath and stepped over a tangle of vines. “Okay, kid. Let's find you.”

The path was easier to navigate on the way back. She focused on her feet and tried to make time without stumbling. As she walked, she formed a plan. She would check the orchard and pond first, then double back to the woods. If she still hadn't found him, she'd go to the house and tell Gage she'd been wrong. By then, the ambulance would have taken Sean and Ethan to the hospital. They could call the sheriff and assemble a search party.

“Morgan?”

She stopped. Had someone called her name?

Fear snaked across her shoulders, pricked at the skin behind her neck. She pointed the flashlight at an oak tree, half expecting to see the light glint off Mendoza’s gold tooth. “Who's there?” she cried.

“It's me,” Jeremy said.

“Oh, God, kid. You scared the crap out of me.” She began to laugh.

Jeremy stepped from behind the tree. His
Family Guy
T-shirt was torn across the shoulder. Dirt and sweat streaked his narrow face. “I found the kudzu car. I found it in the dark.”

“Without a flashlight? You must be part bat.”

“Well, the waning gibbous moon helped, and after a while I could see pretty good. It's called dark adaptation. The eye uses a chemical called rhodospin to recognize light by absorbing photons. When a molecule—”

“You knew we’d come looking for you. Why didn't you stay in the car?”

“I got scared. I was afraid Denny knew about the car, so I hiked back to the path and hid behind that tree. What took you so long?”

“I got lost,” Morgan said. “By the time I found the car, you’d already left.”

“I...I’m sorry.” His voice cracked.

“Oh, honey, it's okay.” She put her arms around him. “You followed your gut. And that’s always the right thing to do.” She took his hand. “Come on, we need to start back.”

“Denny showed up and wanted to know where the flag was, but Sean wouldn't tell him. Then Denny said he’d leave. He pretended to go, then he turned back and hit Sean in the face. He kept on hitting him, and Sean said, 'I'm not gonna fight you, Denny. You're whacked out on drugs. It wouldn't be fair.’ Then Denny picked up the big stirring paddle and started to hit him with it. So, I told Denny you didn’t have the flag. I said you'd sold it.”

“But I haven’t—”

“Well, you
could
have sold it. I found two buyers on a Civil War website who were very interested. It was all I could think of to make him stop hitting Sean.”

“Well, it was an inspired idea.” She took off her jacket. “Put this on. You're shivering.”

“It is k-kinda cold out here.”

“You are one brave kid.”

“No, I'm not. I took karate. I should've stayed and helped Sean. Is he okay?”

“He'll be fine.”

Jeremy looked up, his eyes suddenly wide with panic. “Where's my dad? Is Denny still there?”

“No, honey,” she said, “Denny's gone. Your Dad and Ethan are waiting for us.”

“Are you sure he won't come back and hurt my dad?”

“You don't have to worry about Denny. He'll never hurt anybody again.”

Moonlight spilled across the grass as they made their way down Pip’s Hill. Lights from the house glittered through the twisted branches of a lone dogwood tree. The bitter stench of an extinguished fire hung in the air. Halfway down, Jeremy started to run.

“Hold it!” Morgan rasped.

“Why? I want to see my dad.”

“Just wait.” She caught up with him and held his arm. “Things don’t look right.”

“You said my dad and Ethan would be waiting for us.”

“I know, but the porch light isn’t on. If your dad called an ambulance, he would have turned on the outside lights. Get behind that honeysuckle bush and wait for me.” Jeremy hunkered down. “I'm going to check the shed and make sure they've taken Sean to the hospital.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “Jeremy, I’m serious. Do not move.”

Morgan edged her way around the fence, careful to stay in the shadows.

Something was wrong.

She'd bet her life on it.

Dread coiled up her spine, leaving a damp line of perspiration in its wake. She glanced up. The three-quarter moon she'd been so grateful for in the forest had vanished behind a rolling bank of clouds. She crouched beside the fence and peered through the wooden slats. The shed door stood ajar. A long shadow moved across the ground, then stopped. Its hands pawed the air, then fell.

Sean.

She opened the gate and ran to him. “Don't move!” She knelt down. “Where's Gage? Did he call the ambulance?”

Sean groaned and looked up. One gray-green eye had swollen shut, the other was glazed over in pain. “I...I don't know. I keep waking up and passing out again. I talked to Gage. I remember talking to him.” His words came out thick and slurred. “Where's Denny? He was here, and then he—”

“Denny's dead.”

“Oh.” He rolled onto his side. “You might want to move your foot. I think I'm gonna be sick.”

“No, you’re not. Do you have your cell phone with you?”

“It's in the truck. I think. God, I can't think. My head's thumping like a bass drum.”

“Lie still. I'll get help.”

“Morgan?” Jeremy’s reedy little voice traveled to her on the wind.

Morgan scrambled to her feet. Jeremy stood by the open gate with his arm wrapped around the fencepost.

“Dammit, kid!” Morgan shouted. “I told you to stay put! I told you not to move! I told you to glue your butt to that honeysuckle bush, and—”

“Stop yelling at him,” Sean said. “You would have done the same thing.”

“I can see my dad through the window. He's sitting in a chair, staring straight ahead.”

Morgan put her arm around him. She stooped down until she was on his level. “Listen to me. I need you to sneak down to Sean's truck, open it as quietly as you can, climb in, and find his cell phone. It may be on the seat. It may be on the console. Then I need you to call 911. Tell them we need help. Say you’re at Morgan’s orchard. They'll know where to come.” She held onto his shoulders. “If you can’t get a signal, go down to the road and turn left. Then run as fast as you can to the Jenkins’ farmhouse. Here’s the flashlight.”

“But my dad? Why is he just sitting there?”

“I'm going to find out. Do what I said, and don't go in the house.”

“Okay, but—”

“No
buts
. Sean is counting on you.” She squeezed his upper arms and stared into his anxious brown eyes. “
I'm
counting on you.”

“Okay, Morgan.”

“And Jeremy? Be careful.”

He grinned and gave her a thumbs up, looking so much like his father, she wanted to cry. He headed down the hill toward the back of the house. If Finch or Mendoza were holding Gage hostage, at least the kid would be safely out of sight.

Morgan started for the house. Every nerve ending bristled against her clothes.

She left the path and zigzagged down the hill, moving from one clump of wild honeysuckle to another. At the bottom, she eased herself through the gate and ran past the old water pump to the south side of the house. She flattened herself against the clapboard and glanced at Jeremy. He had made it to Sean's truck and was standing on the running board, trying to open the door.

Light from the living room window spilled into the yard. Square shards of white and amber slashed across the grass. Morgan pushed her hair out of her eyes and placed one hand on the high windowsill. She rose up on her toes, keeping her face in the shadows, and peered into the room.

Gage sat in the stuffed armchair beside the fireplace. His hands rested on the arms, and he stared straight ahead, exactly as Jeremy had described him. Morgan craned her neck.

“Well, hey, Morgan,” Ethan said. “Come on in. Gage and I have been talking about you.”

Thank God
, Morgan thought. It was only Ethan. His leg must not have been hurt badly after all. But why hadn't he or Gage called an ambulance for Sean? They probably couldn't get through. It had happened to her grandpa once when he’d fallen off the harvesting machine and drug himself up to the house. Living in the sticks was like living in a third world country.

She didn’t understand why Ethan and Gage were sitting in the house while Sean was outside hurt and bleeding? Why weren’t they trying to help him?

Panic rose in her chest then settled into her abdomen, leaden and cold. Adrenaline gushed into her veins, urging her to turn her eyes away and run.

And yet, she still refused to believe the worst.

She stepped up on the porch as if she were moving through a dream, as if a power source she couldn’t fight was pulling her along, forcing her to fulfill her destiny. She glanced in the front window. Gage caught her eye and shook his head no.

She hesitated.

And tried to wrap her head around what was happening.

The screen door screeched open. The shadow of a man slid across the floor. Ethan stood in the doorway, still holding Gage hostage with Cal’s gun.

“Like I said, Morgana. Your friend and I have been talking about you. Of course, I've been doing most of the talking.” He smiled, still pointing the gun at Gage. “But I think all that's about to change.”

Chapter 18

Gage's heart dropped.

The look on Morgan’s face was enough to send him flying across the room to her. But he didn’t dare move. Not yet. Not while the Hamster was pointing a loaded gun at his head. He gripped the chair until his fingers throbbed and tried to channel the fight energy coursing through his limbs.
Focus! Focus, dammit!
His need to protect her was threatening to eclipse the reasoning center of his brain. But getting himself blown away wouldn't do anybody any good. Least of all him.

Why hadn’t she run when she had the chance? Why hadn’t she saved herself? Had she found Jeremy? Had she come back to tell him his son was still missing?

If only he could turn back the clock. One hour. Two. How could he have put Jeremy and Morgan in so much danger? He’d always been good at reading people, a skill that had kept him breathing on more than one occasion. But he hadn’t seen this one coming. Ethan Spannagel had made him uneasy from the get go. Why hadn't he realized the man was a complete nutcase?

“Ethan, I don't understand,” Morgan said. She sat on the piano bench, folded her hands in her lap, and glanced up at him as if they’d just sat down to tea. “Honey, what's going on?”

She still trusted the bastard. Gage could see it on her face.

Gage’s eyes darted between the two of them, waiting for the opportunity to make a move, not sure what the hell it was going to be. Ethan stepped back to relax the arm aiming the gun, and in that split second, Morgan’s gaze shot to the door, to the window, to Gage, then back to Ethan’s face.
She doesn’t trust him at all
.
She’s as petrified as I am.
Why should he be surprised she was a master at hiding her feelings? Hadn’t she done the same thing three days ago when she’d pulled into the driveway and found him standing on her porch like the Ghost of Christmas Past? She’d barely blinked an eye then, too.

He looked at her, and his heart swelled with admiration. Her hands trembled in her lap, and she clasped them tightly, all the while looking at Ethan just as calm and cool as you please.