Restore My Heart (38 page)

“And you think Fia’s brother is in danger?” Brendan asked.

“He could be.” Sally turned to Fia.
“Angie Gayle
. Does she have a last name? Would her family still have a horse farm near Simpsonville?”

“Angie Gayle Culpepper. Her parents retired and moved to Florida, but the property is still theirs. I told Joe how to find it the night Grandma was shot. He wanted to hide that stupid car so no one else would get hurt. I called Angie Gayle myself and made the arrangements. She met him there and drove him home.”

Brendan frowned. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“You were right there in the waiting room. I thought you heard us.” Judging from Fia’s impatience with Brendan, she was worried sick about her brother. “Anyway, I wrote down the directions for you. Please take my cell phone and let me know the minute you find Joe. I’ll be at Mom’s.”

“Thanks,” Sally said.

“What can I do to help?” Brendan asked.

“Call the cops,” Sally yelled as she hurried out the door.

The next minute, she and her father were speeding toward the interstate, headed east toward Simpsonville. She’d forgotten to call Ferguson. Studying the small telephone Fia had thrust in her hands, Sally keyed in his number. Nothing happened. She studied the phone again, noting the number she wanted in the display. Dammit, how did these gizmos work? She pushed a button with SEND in green letters. The cell phone beeped to life.

“Ferguson.”

“It’s Sally Clay. I think I’ve located the Darrin. Joe may have been forced to go there.”

“That’s about how we figured it. Desalvo’s car was found parked in one of the Jeff County substation lots. Tell me where you’re headed. We’re on our way.”

Sally read him the directions Fia had written. “Look for Culpepper on the mailbox.” As she punched END to turn off the call, Sally shivered. The Feds were a long way from Simpsonville. What would she and her father face when they found Joe? And would they be in time?

She’d read between the lines, knew what Ferguson wasn’t telling her. When Joe led the killer to the Darrin, he was a dead man. No crook with any brains would release Joe to file kidnap charges against him. She also knew kidnapping carried the same penalty as murder, so he had nothing to lose by killing Joe.

Sally closed her eyes and prayed.
Please, God, keep Joe safe. I can give him up, but not this way. Please, not this way
.

Her father’s voice broke through her meditation. “What do you expect us to do, Sally? Confront a killer? I don’t have a gun.”

“We need to slow him down. As long as Joe’s all right, we can wait for Ferguson to bring the police.”

“This is dangerous. I should pull over and stop now, and let the cops rescue Joe.”

“Dad, please, I can’t let anything happen to him—” Sally choked, unable to finish the thought.

“Why?”

Sally’s jaw dropped. She and her dad were actually having dialogue. How long had that been going on? She was so focused on the danger to Joe, she’d forgotten her estranged relationship with her dad. She gave him an honest answer. “Because I love him.”

“I figured as much. He ask you to marry him?”

Sally spun to face him. “Marry him? No, and I wouldn’t if he asked.”

“Why not?” Justin asked, staring at the highway.

“I don’t fit in his world.”

“Don’t think he’s too good for you, girl.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t good enough. I said I don’t fit in his world. He’s been offered a vice-presidency at the investment firm where he works. It’s his dream job. A grease-monkey wife would hardly be an asset.”

“He say that?” Justin concentrated on passing a string of semis.

“No.”

“Well, let him decide what he wants.”

“No, I love him too much to hold him back.” She glanced at the speedometer. “Do you know how fast you’re driving?”

“Of course I know. You said we can’t wait for the cops.”

“Well, I guess if they pull us over, we can take them with us.”

Joe twisted against his bindings, attempting to stretch the nylon rope. He’d hoped to buy some time, to develop a plan. A lot of help his education was now. Maybe he could lull Dan Alsop and Barbara Bloom to sleep by talking ladder bonds and T-bills.

He’d chosen the old Culpepper farm because it was deserted. No one lived here to come to his rescue. And only Fia and Angie Gayle knew he’d stowed the Darrin in the vacant horse barn. By the time either would have reason to tell anyone, it’d be too late.

He directed Barbara and Dan to the Simpsonville exit, then the county roads leading to the farm. Barbara said nothing to him. Occasionally, she glanced at him, a look of regret in her eyes. But Joe was fresh out of sympathy for the woman. Had his dad uncovered her greedy nature and died for it?

Judging from the earlier conversation he’d overheard between Barbara and Dan, or whatever his name was, she had the stomach for murder. Dan disavowed any killing. So had Barbara killed Vic and Roy Bishop? Joe and Sally had assumed the hit-and-run attempt, the arson, and the shooting were all the work of Roy’s killer. Joe had no doubt that his own life hung in jeopardy now, but was another killer out there? And was Sally in danger? If so, who, and why?

His head throbbed from the unanswered questions. The minivan pulled to a stop at the farm’s driveway. Barbara leveled a small-caliber pistol at Joe while Dan jumped out to unchain the gate. Joe’s gaze slid from the pistol to Barbara’s face. Yes, she could kill. Her empty eyes stared back at him with no emotion.

Joe was in deep trouble.

Faded letters on the mailbox spelled
Culpepper
. Although vacant, the farm appeared to suffer little from neglect. The fading sunlight cast a golden glow over the three-story farm house and the split rail fence that bordered the yard.

“I’ll get the gate,” Sally said, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Stay put.” Her father sprang from the truck.

The growing darkness made it difficult for Sally to follow his movements, but using the headlights was too risky. They didn’t know what they’d find at the Culpepper horse barn. At least they’d have the element of surprise, not that Sally or her dad had formulated a plan. They’d have to wing it from there.

He left the gate open and idled the truck slowly down the gravel driveway. Forking, the gravel gave way to dirt in one direction. Sally squinted at Fia’s notes. “Take the dirt road past the paddock.”

Beyond the fenced enclosure, Sally pointed to a weed-choked clearing that had once been the parking area. A dark blue Dodge Caravan sat next to the double doors of the barn’s entrance. The unlatched doors stood ajar. Her father cut the pickup’s engine, then coasted to a stop beside the minivan.

“You know how to cut the juice, right?”

Sally immediately understood. He wanted her to disable the minivan. She waited while her father unscrewed the dome light inside the cab, then slid open the back window to disable the cargo light. Then Sally opened her door and slipped to the ground, clutching a pair of wire snips.

“What are you going to do?”

“You sabotage, I’ll do recon.” He closed his door with a soft click. “Wait out here.”

Sally wasted no time dropping to the ground, then wiggling beneath the Caravan’s chassis. Without adequate light, she could only feel her way around. Her hand closed over two wire leads to the gas tank. One would be for the fuel gauge, the other for the electric fuel pump. Sally clipped both, then wove the wires back through the undercarriage to prevent a speedy repair.

Some other time she’d think about how her father had teamed up with her to find Joe, how they’d worked together, putting aside their differences. She’d want to savor the memory. But there was no time now to enjoy the progress they’d made.

She scrabbled out from beneath the Caravan, anxious to watch for her dad and study their surroundings. Unzipping her fanny pack, she shoved the wire snips into the cramped bag with her wallet, Fia’s cell phone, and the transmitter. Transmitter? The self-defense stun gun Uncle Sal had given her! No, not a stun gun.
A device offering a new level of non-lethal personal protection
. Palming the device, she tucked the cell phone under her chin, then hobbled to the shadows against the side of the wooden barn. Her knee cried out in agony, but she ignored it.

Where was her dad? If he wasn’t back by the time she counted to fifty, she’d have to sneak inside. Straining to listen, she heard no sounds from the huge barn. Carefully, she keyed in Special Agent Ferguson’s cell phone number, which she’d now committed to memory, then pressed SEND. She shouldered the phone to her ear. It blasted a rapid beeping signal. Jerking it from her head, she read the displayed message:
No Service
. Punching END, she stuffed the phone into her fanny pack, praying the FBI and local posse were on their way. With both Brendan and Ferguson calling, the authorities should be there soon.

Her father hadn’t returned, and the count was way past fifty. Sally’s breathing quickened, her heart raced. Her instincts told her she was on her own. Alone. With a death grip on the self-defense device, she drew in a deep breath, held it, then slithered between the doors into the dark barn.

Joe had worked his hands free of the nylon rope, but held them behind him, biding his time. He hadn’t a lot of time to bide, however, now that Barbara and Dan had the Darrin. Earlier, Joe had been encouraged when Dan removed the bindings from his legs again so he could walk, although Barbara still held a gun on him. But his prospects faded when Dan grabbed a five-gallon gasoline can from the minivan. The couple hadn’t come to take the Darrin; they’d come to destroy it, and Joe with it.

He held no heroic aspirations of overpowering the two and saving the day. All he hoped for at this point was to escape the fire after they fled. If he could make it to the tack room, he could escape through its lone window, the window he hoped his abductors hadn’t noticed. It wasn’t much, but was his only plan.

Their only source of light was a battery-powered lantern, which Barbara stood on the barn floor. Dan drizzled gasoline over the Darrin’s upholstery and convertible top, then over the surrounding straw. Dry straw inside an old wooden barn would flare up in seconds. In order to reach the tack room, Joe would have to get past the car. He hoped the gas tank didn’t erupt before he escaped.

“Hold it right there!” Barbara’s voice chilled him with its flat, cold command.

Joe stiffened. But she hadn’t addressed him. She aimed her gun at a man emerging from the shadows. Joe figured he was a hapless neighbor who’d come to check on the prowlers at the Culpeppers’ barn. It was too dark to see the man’s face, but Joe made out light colored overalls.

“Dan, tie him up. Looks like this fire will claim two victims.”

Dan slung the empty can into a pile of straw, then pulled out the length of rope he’d removed from Joe’s legs. He cut it in two and used it to bind the man’s hands and feet. Great. Joe couldn’t leave the man tied up once Dan and Barbara fled the fire. He’d have to untie him and hope they both got out before smoke overtook them. Joe glanced at the man, who stared back at him. Recognition shot through him, along with a surge of hope. Justin Clay! Joe feigned lack of interest and turned his attention to Barbara. In the barn’s dark interior, she probably wouldn’t recognize Justin. He hoped.