Marta Perry (17 page)

“Good.” He clicked off.

Rachel had busied herself getting an umbrella from the closet during that brief call, but she would obviously have gotten the gist of it. She handed over the umbrella.

“You can still come back over for supper.”

Meredith shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m really beat.”

Besides, if they talked any more, she might be tempted to tell Rachel about the picture Zach had planted in her mind. An image rose of Samuel and Aaron quarreling at the edge of the dam, with Samuel furious when he learned Laura was pregnant. That would have been an end to any hope he might have held on to that Aaron would come to his senses or that Laura would break it off.

It wouldn’t have taken much. A pushing match, a scuffle, and Aaron falling into the water, which would’ve been high after several days of rain. She shivered. That was just a bit too plausible a scenario.

Meredith could see Rachel watching her from the kitchen window as she set off across the wet lawn. She probably did the same when Mandy was running across to the neighbor’s house.

The temperature must have dropped as the day turned gray. Even with the umbrella protecting her, Meredith felt damp and chilled. She hurried toward the house.

What could Jake have called about that would make Zach so concerned? Tension tightened into a ball in her stomach. Nothing good, obviously.

Something, maybe a hint of movement caught from the corner of her eye, stopped her. She tilted the umbrella back so that she could see, getting a face full of rain in the process. Someone or something had moved there, in the shadows between the garage and the toolshed.

Heart thudding, she took a step back before common sense washed over her. Was it Zach, taking a look around while he waited for her to come?

Something man-sized shifted in the dark space. “Zach?” Her voice cracked slightly on his name.

No answer, but the shadows seemed to move again, coalescing into a shape even as her vision wavered in the steady rain. It wasn’t Zach. Zach would speak.

She spun and ran toward the house. The wind caught the umbrella and tore it from her wet hand. She ran, blinded by the rain, afraid to look back and see who or what chased her—

She barreled into Zach, knowing him the instant their bodies touched, before he could even speak.

He grabbed her by the arms. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Nothing. I...” She sent a glance toward the toolshed and saw no one. “Maybe my imagination working overtime. I thought I saw someone over there, between the garage and the toolshed.”

His grip tightened, and then he shoved her toward the steps. “Go inside. I’ll have a look.”

Meredith shook her head. What was she thinking, acting as if she needed to be rescued? She wasn’t the helpless princess in the tower, any more than Laura had been in their childhood imaginings.

“I’ll go with you.” She said the words firmly, daring him to argue.

Zach gave her a look that suggested he knew just what she was doing, but he shrugged, pulling a businesslike flashlight from the pocket of his jacket. “All right. Stay behind me. Please.”

She nodded. The rain seemed to slack off a little as they approached the toolshed, not that it mattered. She was so wet already that she could hardly get any more drenched. She nodded toward the flashlight. “You came prepared.”

“I’m not tramping around in the dark with a murderer on the loose. And neither should you.” He flashed his light toward the garage, but the doors were closed, just as she had left them. With the automatic opener, there’d be no easy way for someone to get in without leaving a trace.

“It was still light when I went over to Rachel’s.” She was probably talking just to hear the sound.

The beam of Zach’s torch illuminated the narrow space that ran between the garage and the toolshed. It was empty now, but someone could easily have slipped away behind the structures while she and Zach were talking.

“Is the toolshed locked?” He moved toward the door, and she followed.

“No. I don’t even think we have a key for that door.”

Zach reached for the latch, then turned and moved her back a few feet. “Stay out of the way.” This time he didn’t bother adding please. Tough, competent...Zach’s boyhood rebellion had matured into the qualities that made him a strong man.

She nodded, shivering a little, her brief spurt of courage fading.

Holding the flashlight high with his left hand, Zach yanked open the door, and the inside of the toolshed flashed into view. Small, cluttered with the accumulation of years—there was no place anyone could hide.

“Is this the way it should be?” Zach was focused, sending the beam of his flashlight into every corner. It caught the delicate gray shape of a spiderweb in the corner and illuminated the wooden tool chest that had belonged to her father.

“I guess so. I haven’t been out here in ages.” She took a step inside, relieved to be out of the rain. “I keep a few small tools in the house, and the lawn mower is in the garage, so there’s not much reason to come in here.”

“You’re sure you saw someone?” He turned to her, face intent.

Meredith blew out a breath, trying to relax taut muscles. “I’m sure I saw something moving.” She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to visualize that quick glimpse. “It wasn’t a small animal—something big, the size of a person.”

“There’s no sign anyone was in here, but it would be a good spot from which to watch the back of the house.” His face was lean and remote in the dim light, focused on the problem, not on her.

Her mind scrambled through possibilities. “Watch the house—you mean, like the police?” She could hear the note of incredulity in her voice. Really, she had to get over the illusion that this situation with the law was some sort of macabre joke.

“Could be.” He focused on her, frowning. “That call from Jake—it’s my turn to go in and talk to the cops tomorrow morning. But Jake found out there’s going to be someone from the district attorney’s office sitting in on the interview.”

Her throat clenched, making it difficult to speak. “They’re serious about us, then.”

“They always have been. That hasn’t changed.” He suddenly seemed to see her, taking in her wet, bedraggled condition. He clasped her arm. “You’re soaked. I can’t keep you standing here in the cold talking.”

She shook her head. “That’s not important. Zach, what are we going to do? If they arrest you...” She faltered, unable to go on.

“Don’t, Merry.” His voice lowered with emotion, and he cupped her face with his free hand, his palm warm against her skin. “It’s going to be all right.”

“How?” she demanded, torn between longing and pain. “How is it going to be all right? They think we did this terrible thing, and they’re not even looking for anyone else.”

Something moved in his eyes. “I told Jake what Samuel said about Laura.”

“You shouldn’t—”

His fingers tightened, as if he’d shake sense into her. “Wake up, Meredith. You can’t protect other people at the cost of your own life. Or mine, if that means anything to you.”

“Of course it does.” All the passion she’d tried to contain seemed to pour into the words. “But what can we do?”

“Jake thinks we have to tell Burkhalter all of it—Samuel, Laura, the works. Even if he doesn’t take it seriously, maybe the D.A. will.”

A shudder went through her. “My family...”

Zach released her, his face hardening. “Face it, Meredith. It might come down to me or Samuel. Which of us will you try to protect?”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Z
ACH
TOOK
A
deep breath of cool, damp air when he finally stepped out of the police station the next day. The string of bright fall days had ended, but freedom felt good no matter the weather.

“Glad to have that over with?” Jake paused beside him, buttoning his suit coat against the chilly breeze.

“There were moments when I didn’t think I’d be leaving that place.” Zach jerked his head toward the faded brick of the police station.

“They don’t have enough evidence to hold on to you. You know that.” Jake was giving him credit for knowing the law, if not all the politics. “A motive based on rumors and hearsay, and an opportunity only if Meredith King is lying about her mother’s death? I doubt they’d even get a search warrant on that, unless they had a very friendly judge in somebody’s pocket.”

“Yeah. But they won’t give up.” Zach shoved his hands in his pockets. “I wouldn’t, if it were my case.”

Jake eyed him with an air of sizing him up. “I’ve never had a cop for a client before. You have a unique perspective for a person of interest in a homicide.”

“Can’t say I get a lot of pleasure out of that.” He hunched his shoulders and then realized he was echoing the bad-boy stance of his teen years—the look of someone who knew that if there was trouble in the offing, the blame would fall on him. He straightened. He wasn’t that kid, and he wouldn’t let Deer Run do that to him.

“No, I guess not, but if it were your case what would you do?” Jake was assuming the role that seemed to fall so easily to him—the leader, the one in charge, figuring out what to do next.

He’d been that way in high school, too. The natural choice for captain of the football team, president of the student council, the senior class, the honor society. Well, that need to succeed of Jake’s was on Zach’s side, at least for the moment.

Zach forced himself to consider the case in the abstract. “I’d try to find someone who saw the car that night, first off. Try to prove we came back to Deer Run earlier than we said. Try to link me to the weapon.” His gaze sharpened on Jake. “It’s a safe bet they haven’t found it yet. If they had, there’d have been questions in that area, but neither Chief Burkhalter nor that assistant D.A. ever went in that direction.”

“Good point.” Jake frowned. “That means they’re still looking, and until they identify it, they can’t tie it to anyone.”

“If the killer’s smart, it’ll be at the bottom of the river by now,” Zach said. “If not... Well, maybe they will locate it, but whatever it is, they can’t link it to either of us.”

“I suppose I don’t have to tell you not to let anyone search your car or your room without a warrant?”

“No, you don’t. But maybe you’d better stress that to Meredith.”

“I will.” Jake hesitated. “Burkhalter wants to see Meredith again this afternoon. And Reilly, from the D.A.’s office, will be sitting in.”

“It figures.” He had to unclench his jaw to speak. “That’s the other thing I’d be doing if it was my case. Trying to break down the alibi witness.”

“I’ve known Meredith King since kindergarten,” Jake said. “She always tells the truth. The problem is going to be to keep her from saying more than she should.”

“Yeah. Well, she’ll listen to you, I think.” Now it was his turn to pause. “You know she didn’t want us to mention Samuel to the police.”

“We didn’t have a choice.” Jake was firm on that subject. “The whole story about Meredith looking into Aaron Mast’s death had to be told for there to be any other possible motive for Margo King’s death.”

“Burkhalter still didn’t believe it.” Zach stepped back on the sidewalk to let a couple of women pass and noted that they gave him a wide berth. Deer Run had no doubt already made up its collective mind about him and his connection to Margo King’s murder.

“I didn’t expect him to, but Reilly did listen and make notes. If he’s any good at his job, he’ll do some sort of follow-up.”

Zach nodded. It was their best chance, and they both knew that. But he couldn’t help wishing it hadn’t been something that was going to hurt Meredith as much as this would.

“You’ll be with her the whole time she’s in there, right?” He knew Jake would, but it hurt that he couldn’t be.

“I will.” Jake looked grim. “Trust me, I won’t let them push her too hard.”

* * *

W
INDBLOWN
RAIN
STREAMED
against the windshield as Meredith drove back to the house after her interrogation, making Deer Run look blurred and unfamiliar to her eyes. Or maybe her perception of the village that had always been home was changing.

The whole questioning routine had seemed futile to her—the same questions asked over and over again in a slightly different way. Maybe that was some sort of interrogation technique, an attempt to frighten her and catch her in a lie.

She rubbed the back of her neck, feeling the tension knotted into cords. She hadn’t been scared, exactly, since Jake had been sitting next to her the entire time. He had interrupted often enough that she could catch her breath and think through her responses.

The assistant district attorney had put some of the queries to her. Afterward, Jake said that hadn’t happened when Zach was interviewed. She wasn’t sure what to make of that development.

Meredith took a cautious glance in the direction of Jeannette’s bed-and-breakfast as she turned onto her driveway, hoping Zach wasn’t watching for her return.
Please don’t let him come over right now. Just give me a little quiet space.

She stopped by the front porch, not eager to drive to the detached garage and then dash through the pouring rain to the house. This way it would only be a few steps.

She’d usually stopped here to let her mother out—the pain hit even as she thought the words. Grief wasn’t just emotional; it was physical, as well. She’d learned that when her father died. Then she’d had the luxury of mourning. Now... Well, now she had to keep pushing the grief down to deal with cloud of suspicion that thickened around her and Zach. It seemed wrong to focus on anything else at a time like this.

She put up her umbrella as she stepped out of the car. The wind promptly caught it, turning it inside out. Giving up, she raced for the porch and stumbled inside, slamming the door behind her.

The house was dark and quiet. She hadn’t realized how loud it had been in the car with the rain pelting down.

It was dark. Hadn’t she left the hall light on? She flipped the switch up and down. Nothing. Apparently the power was off.

Walking into the living room, she touched the back of her mother’s favorite chair, letting her hand linger there for a moment. Jake had said he’d press the authorities on releasing Mom’s body, so she could proceed with the funeral. He seemed to understand the importance of the rituals of grieving. Maybe that came from spending a lifetime in the same small town.

A quick glance out the window told her that the lights were on farther down the block. That meant a power surge had probably tripped the circuit breaker, a routine occurrence with their antiquated wiring. She’d have to go down to the cellar and flip the switch.

Automatically she headed toward the kitchen. Her hand was on the door when something creaked, loud in the silent house, and her heart was suddenly pounding. She froze, straining her ears for a repetition, but none came.

Finally she let out a shaky breath. She was getting spooked. Not surprising, maybe. The kitchen was even darker than the living room had been, since its windows faced west, toward the storm. She took a step and bumped into a chair, then put her hand on its back. Funny, how things seemed to switch position in a darkened room—like waking up at night and walking into the closet instead of the hall.

The flashlight was usually kept in the top drawer to the left of the sink. Meredith had pulled it open before she realized it wouldn’t be there. Mom had taken it out the night she died.

She swung away, blinking back the sudden tears that filled her eyes. There was a flashlight upstairs in her bedroom for just such emergencies, but her cell phone would surely give her enough illumination to make it down the cellar steps and find the circuit box. She took it from her bag.

Yanking the cellar door open, she paused. The dim kitchen was nothing compared to the utter blackness of the cellar, and the glow from her phone lit only the first two steps. Going down would be like stepping into black water. She shuddered at the image. Maybe—

The floor creaked behind her, sending her heart into her throat. She half turned, raising the light, but something black was coming at her, like a black bird swooping down, grazing her head, striking her shoulder. She cried out, ducking away from the blow, he’d hit again, she couldn’t protect herself and then she was stumbling backward, feet slipping, falling—

Steps striking her, blackness surrounding her, nothing to grab on to— She hit the floor, stunned.

It took a moment for her brain to start working. She’d landed on her right side on the heavy mat she’d placed at the bottom of the stairs. Not sure she could move, she took a tentative breath. Her lungs still worked, it seemed, although pain seemed to ricochet through her ribs.

Not moving seemed the best idea. If he thought she was dead, so much the better. Surely he couldn’t see her from the top of the stairs. He’d go away, satisfied...

But he wasn’t. Deliberate footsteps sounded on the stairs. He was coming down to make sure. He’d find her, he’d finish the job.

Meredith’s fingers clenched, and she realized she was still holding the cell phone.

Relief flooded through her. She raised it so that she could see to key in the numbers. “I’m calling 911. The police will be here in minutes.”

She could almost feel the indecision emanating from the dark figure. Then the dispatcher was speaking, and even as she stammered out the information she heard the quick withdrawal. Back into the kitchen, an odd thud and then the back door slamming.

“I think he’s gone.”

“Stay on the line with me.” It was Josie’s voice, instantly reassuring. “The car will be there in minutes. Stay on the line, Mer.”

“Thanks.” She muttered the word and clicked off, heedless of the advice. Zach. She had to call Zach.

She pressed his number, relief flooding through her at the sound of his voice. “I’m in the cellar.” She stammered the words. “Somebody attacked me.”

“On my way.” He didn’t waste time asking questions. Crazy, that just the sound of his voice was enough to make her feel safer.

* * *

Z
ACH
FIGURED
HE
broke the land speed record getting across the street. He hoped the front door was unlocked, or he’d have had to break it in. He tore through the house, calling Meredith’s name, heart pumping with fear.

“Here. In the cellar.” Her voice was shaky but strong.

He reached the door and plunged downward, led by the glow of Meredith’s cell phone. She was sitting at the bottom of the steps, hugging her knees to her chest, her hair swinging forward to half hide her face.

“Merry?” He knelt beside her, lowering his voice, trying to call up the detached sympathy he’d learned on the job. But this was Meredith, not a stranger. “Tell me what happened. Did he hurt you?”

She looked up at him then, and he thought she was making an effort to hold herself together. “Just bumps and bruises, I think.” She rubbed her shoulder. “He swung something at me, but I was turning or it would have hit my head. And then he pushed me down the stairs.”

“It was a man?” He couldn’t help the way his voice sharpened.

She seemed to hesitate. “I...I’m not sure. I just assumed it was, but I didn’t really see anything. Just a dark shape.”

Zach resisted the urge to swear. He touched her head gently. “Sure he didn’t hit your head?” He studied her eyes, looking for any sign of concussion.

She shook her head, still rubbing her shoulder. “If I hadn’t moved... It was just like my mother.” Her voice broke, and the need to take her into his arms nearly overwhelmed him.

“It’s okay. You’re safe now. I’d better call the paramedics to take a look at you.”

“I already called 911. That was what scared him away.” She managed a shaky smile. “Can’t believe I held on to my phone while I was falling.”

She’d called the cops. That was the right thing to do. Sure it was. But under the circumstances, he’d like to have a look around before they got here.

“Why is it so dark in here?” He couldn’t very well try to take the cell phone. She was clinging to it like the lifeline it was.

“The circuit box.” She gestured with the cell phone, and he spotted the gray metal box on the wall. “There must have been a power surge from the storm.”

He rose and went to the box. A flip of the switch later, the lights went on.

In the harsh overhead light, Meredith’s face was pale. She moved slightly, as if to get up, and winced.

He was at her side instantly. “Maybe you’d better stay put until the paramedics get here. Did you tell the 911 operator you needed medical help?”

“Not exactly, but I said I’d been attacked. It was Josie. I’m sure she’d send EMTs.” She grasped his arm. “I’m okay. Just help me up the stairs.”

Clearly she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He lifted more than helped. Meredith wobbled for a minute and then steadied. She managed a wan smile.

“See? I’m okay.”

“I doubt it.” He put an arm around her. “I’d carry you up, but that stairwell is so narrow you might end up in worse shape than you are.”

“I’m fine.” Gripping his arm, Meredith moved, wincing again.

“Sure you are.” He put his arm around her waist and helped her up the first step. “This is a piece of cake.” He looked over his shoulder, scanning the cellar for any sign that someone else had been there. “You really think the storm knocked out the power?”

“What else...” She paused and then looked at him. “You think the intruder turned it off?”

“I think it’s possible.” And if it did happen that way, he’d just put his fingerprints on the circuit box. Great.