Wind Over Marshdale (38 page)

 

“You sure you're up for this?” Con asked his friend and fellow spiritual warrior. He put his truck in park and cut the engine.

“Absolutely. We've put it off long enough,” Thomas replied.

“I already packed a trail in to Old Man's Lake with my snowmobile,” Con said. “So the hike shouldn't be too bad.”

“I'm fine. Let's do this.” Thomas opened his door and grunted as he gingerly disembarked from the cab. His chest still pained him a bit, but it was healing nicely. He'd have a true battle scar to show for the spiritual warfare he had been engaging in.

The men trudged along the path and down to the site of the excavation. It was covered in snow—crisp and white and pure. A fresh beginning for an ancient place.

Thomas lifted his eyes heavenward and opened his mouth to speak. His words rang out loud and clear on the frozen air. “Lord we come before Your sovereign throne today, recognizing You as the Creator and Master of the universe; of all that has been and will be—the Lord of time itself. We thank You for this land and for the men and women who came to possess it and who now live here. We ask that You lift the curse that has been upon this land, which came upon it through mankind's own lustful desires and greed. We take authority over all the powers of darkness now in the name of Jesus, and we ask that You would redeem this land and its people for Yourself and for Your glory and Your honor…

And we repent now on behalf of our brothers and sisters who have gone before, and who, wittingly or unwittingly, played a part in bringing damnation upon this region. Instead, we want to clasp hands in brotherly love and unity, recognizing that You have created us all in Your image, and that no one race is superior to another…”

A gentle breeze lifted the words and carried them upward to the open sky. A new day was about to dawn in Marshdale.

 

Tracy Krauss is a high school teacher by profession, and a prolific author, artist, playwright and director by choice. She received her Bachelor's degree from the University of Saskatchewan and has gone on to teach Art, Drama and English – all the things she is passionate about. After raising four children, she and her husband now reside in beautiful Tumbler Ridge, BC where she continues to pursue all of her creative interests. Her first two books, AND THE BEAT GOES ON and MY MOTHER THE MAN-EATER, were both nominated for the ‘Indie Excellence Book Awards' for religious fiction in 2011. As well, MY MOTHER THE MAN-EATER and her third novel PLAY IT AGAIN attained bestseller status in the ‘Contemporary Romance' category on Amazon. She also has three stage plays in print.

 

 

Chapter One

 

October 1 (Saturday night)

Before Beth could even scream, the filthy punk in a hooded sweatshirt crashed through the back door and covered her mouth with thin, smoky hands. She struggled to get off the couch but couldn't squeeze loose from his grip. She tried kicking with her knees and bare feet, but the intruder stayed clear. Eyes opened impossibly wide, Beth's most cogent thought was that Shane should be there.

“Hold still! I didn't come for you. But you gotta be quiet. Unnerstand?” He waited as if expecting an answer, though his hand remained over her mouth. “Nod if you unnerstand.”

Bethany Muse nodded once, quickly. Her limbs were rigid and her insides felt like ice; she was nauseous from his stink.

“I got a gun and I'll use it if I have to.” He displayed the revolver jammed into his waistband. “I'm gonna take my hand off... but no noise. I also got a stun gun... and it ain't as loud as bullets. Unnerstand?”

Trembling, Beth barely nodded.

“Okay...” He kept his bony fingers near her mouth, probably in case she changed her mind.

“I don't have anything.” She could taste his nasty smell. “What do you want?”

“I'll know it when I see it.” He quickly assessed the primary rooms in her small cottage. “We start in the bedroom.”

Beth shook her head slowly sideways. “No. I'll stay here. I won't be any trouble.”

“You're coming with me.” He produced the stun device from his hoody's pouch. “Bedroom.”

If Shane Holder were here, this punk would be quickly reduced to about one hundred and forty pounds of bloody ground meat... but Beth's ex-lover was two thousand miles away. She whimpered as the intruder shoved her into the bedroom. Just inside the doorway, Beth stood extremely still, hugging her torso. Fortunately, she was fully dressed: jeans and a buttoned blouse... because she and her girlfriend had planned on a late movie.

The trespasser kept his zapper pointed toward Beth as he rifled through her desk and small file cabinet. A modified shoe on one foot explained his limp.

“If you want drugs... I don't have any.”

“Shut up. I'm not supposed to talk to you.” He motioned toward the closet. “Move that way.”

Beth took one rather reluctant half pace and then another.

The burglar peered through dark glasses into the closet. “Pull down that suitcase... and open it.”

“There's nothing in there but hotel soap.”

“Do it!”

“I've got a boyfriend who's a biker... he'll kill you when he finds out.”

“Maybe so, but he hadn't been around here, ‘cause I been watchin' your place for two days.”

Actually it had been three years since she last saw her ex... and Shane had never even heard of Verdeville, Tennessee.

“Suitcase. Down an' open.”

It would have been a struggle to retrieve the carryon bag from her crowded closet even if she weren't terrified... with a threatening bladder. When she unzipped the sides, its front fell down to the floor with a loud
plapp
. Beth kept her hand on the retractable handle, partly to support her wobbling legs.

The intruder seemed nearly as anxious as Beth. He leaned forward and felt around the insides of the case with his free hand. “Empty.”

“Like I said.” She gripped the handle tighter. “Just tell me what you want so you can take it... and leave.”

The man reeked of smoke... but not regular cigarettes. He seemed uncertain, way out of his league. Maybe this was his first robbery of anything besides possibly drugs. “He said I'd know it when I see it.”

“Who?” Beth felt faint. “Give me a clue what he wants.”

“Shut up!” He looked around. “Must not be in here.” He eyed the door. “Back in the other room.”

Beth hurried out. Though she wasn't certain it made any difference in her situation, she was glad to be away from the bed.

The robber scanned Beth's living space and evidently spotted something of interest. “Lie on the floor, face down... while I finish looking.”

No!
Beth's eyes searched for a weapon without moving her head so much that the creep would notice. The brick in her bookcase was too far away.

The skinny man shoved Beth's coffee table over enough to clear a spot on the floor near the bookcase. “On the floor... hands behind you!”

“Look, just take what you want. I won't give you any trouble...”

He shook the stun device in her face like he expected it to rattle. “Floor. Now.”

Being prone around this guy seemed like it might be her last moments on earth. There had to be a way out of this. Shane would know what to do.

“Floor!” The burglar pressed something on the stunner and it made sparks... or arcs. Maybe both.

Beth yelped. Even though it hadn't touched her, the sight and sound nearly made her bladder start. “Okay, okay.” As she sank to her knees, she searched again for some kind of weapon. Whatever was going to happen—she was not going to let it be easy for him. On the low, single shelf of the coffee table were several fossils and unusual rocks which she'd collected over the years. She wished she had one shaped like a hammer... or a ceremonial Mayan sacrifice knife.

“Hurry. Don't have all night.” He looked behind himself nervously.

Beth eyed a fossil about the size of a baseball, with a jagged surface... nearly the wicked texture of coral. She no longer remembered its name but knew it could cause a lot of damage. “Not enough room to lie down. Move the table over more.”

“Huh? Oh...” When he leaned over to scoot the table with his free hand, Beth latched onto the fossil-rock, swung it up into his face, and sent his dark glasses flying. He yelped and staggered back, holding his upper cheek. With one eye closed from the injury, the criminal moved toward her. And now he was
really
ticked.

Already on her feet, Beth still hoped for a better weapon. The fake fireplace had some ornamental implements made of pot metal, but they were way across the room. If Shane were here, he'd pound this creep into the floorboards. But this was all up to Beth.

“I tried to make this easy.” Blood oozed between his fingers as he clasped the left side of his face. “I was told to leave you alone and just take what they wanted... but you just changed everything.” He kept his eyes on Beth mostly, but briefly inspected the facial blood on his hand.

Beth backed slowly, trying to remember how far the couch was behind her. “Like I said before, take whatever it is.” Her calf hit the sofa. Looking quickly left and right, she tried to figure the fastest escape route.

“Put down that... rock... thing.”

“No way.” Trying to skirt the couch to her right, she moved sideways one step. “Get what you want and leave.”

The intruder was apparently unable to decide whether to deal with Beth or continue his bizarre search.

Beth took another sidestep and reached the corner of her couch. Then a slow backward move, with her eyes fixed on the confused robber.

“Stay right there!” He waggled the stun gun and took several quick looks at the bookcase. His bony fingers knocked down dozens of books as he searched.

Beth inched backward. At this pace, she might reach her back door by sometime Sunday morning.

Just as the reeking man had finally found something of possible interest, a noise from the street startled him. This was a fairly quiet neighborhood, even late on Saturday nights, but high schoolers sometimes congregated across the street and down a few doors. Usually a nuisance, it was welcome at this point because it spooked the creep. Next-to-next door, the huge German Shepherd barked vigorously.

Obviously alarmed by the outside noises, the criminal grabbed something from the bookcase, stuffed it under the front of his hoody, and dashed for the back door. As he hurried past Beth, he hissed loudly and struck her face with the butt of the stun gun. The blow knocked her over onto the couch.

When the intruder reached the back door, Beth got to her knees on the cushions and threw the fossil as hard as she could. It hit the small of his back and he screamed like a little girl. He scrambled through the door and disappeared into the darkness of her back yard... headed in the opposite direction of the barking. He left the door wide open.

Beth raced to the fireplace, clutched the faux poker, hurriedly closed and latched the back door, dead bolted the front door, grabbed her cell phone, and locked herself in the bathroom. While she dealt with her agitated bladder, she also called 9-1-1.

Later, waiting for the police to arrive, Beth huddled on her couch with feet up, knees drawn in, and arms around her shins. In over four years together with Shane, she'd hardly ever feared anything besides California earthquakes. But now she was terrified. Vulnerable, confused, unprotected. Shane's muscular, sheltering arms remained in Long Beach when she had to move here nearly three years ago. Suddenly Beth craved his sturdy comfort.

Moments before in the bathroom, she'd seen her injury: a knot on her right cheekbone. Probably would bruise later, but presently it just ached. She held ice cubes in a washcloth against it gently. Beth had smooth and even skin, with a light tan which would fade quickly as October progressed. Working in a two-person office, she didn't usually wear much makeup, but she'd definitely need some coverage for this shiner.

No sirens—probably because the 9-1-1 dispatcher had verified the criminal was already gone. When the flashing lights appeared, the teenagers' noise stopped, so perhaps they thought the cops hadc come for them. Several cars started up and hurried away.

Beth opened the front door before the police had time to knock. Just one officer: a corporal who looked vaguely familiar, though she couldn't place him. Slightly less than average height; about forty pounds overweight, with most of the extra around his stomach and neck. His service pistol was drawn and his flashlight blinded her.

She shielded her eyes and invited him in. “He's gone. Left out the back door, heading, uh, south.” She checked her wall clock. Nine-fifteen. “About ten minutes ago.”

The corporal cleared each room anyway, evidently part of his training. He spoke something into his collar radio and then returned to the living room where Beth huddled on the couch. He holstered his weapon and pulled out a small notebook.

Realizing he looked for a seat, Beth motioned to the wooden rocker off to the side. A last name of James was on his tag.

Corporal James put his heavy flashlight on the coffee table and settled into the chair.

Beth answered questions as best she could. She'd kept it together while waiting for police to arrive, but after someone protective was there, she began crying again. The officer visually scanned the living room while she sobbed.

Another vehicle arrived outside. “I called for the EMT guys... that's probably them now.” It was.

“Hey, Tom.” The medic carried what looked like a gigantic tackle box. “Need me to wait while you finish the questions?” He was tall and handsome, like the hero in a romance novel. Muscular. Impossibly attractive.

Beth blinked.
Do guys actually look this good... in Greene County, Tennessee?
But she'd lost a good piece of her heart, so the medic—Arnie, according to his tag—interested her mainly as a curiosity.

The corporal waved him over but didn't relinquish the rocker.

Arnie perched on the couch and motioned for Beth to remove her washcloth. “Hmm. What hit you?”

She shrugged slightly. “A stun gun, I guess, but it didn't zap. Maybe the other end of it.”

Arnie slipped on his latex gloves and touched her cheek gently.

She winced.

“Move your jaw...”

“How?”

“Like you're chewing real tough barbecue.” Arnie demonstrated.

It looked funny on the handsome medic and Beth started to chuckle, but her pain quelled that impulse. “Ow!” She resumed subdued chewing, however.

“Not likely fractured. But it'll bruise pretty good.” He eyed her homemade ice pack and reached into his tool box for a proper compress—the kind which immediately freezes when activated. He massaged the cold pack and handed it over. “Keep ice on there for about fifteen minutes every hour. Should help with the swelling. You got any pain relievers?”

Beth nodded.

“Take as many as you need, but stay within the dosage. If you have any sleeping pills, take one tonight.” He held up a single muscular finger.

“For a bruised cheekbone?”

Arnie shook his handsome face sideways. “To get you settled down after...”

Noise erupted outside Beth's front door. Connie Bryan rushed inside, ignoring the policeman trying to block her. She landed on the couch, between Beth and Arnie, in a clumsy but tight embrace of her friend. “What on earth? Are you okay? What happened?” Then she noticed Arnie. “Who's he?”

“Robbery... just a bruised cheek... and I'll introduce you.”

Connie didn't wait. “Connie Bryan. Pleased to meet you, Arnie.” Name tags were distinctly helpful for semi-desperate women.

The corporal moved closer, likely to learn more about this bustling female.

“This is my friend, Connie. We were going to a late movie.”

“What were you going to see?” Arnie was probably just making polite conversation, but he'd been watching Connie since her energetic entrance.

“Can't even remember now,” Beth moaned. “A chick flick.” Verdeville had a four-screen theater at the mall.

Connie leaned quite close and whispered. “Dee-lish. He'd be good for you. About time you started dating, you know. Do you want him?”

Beth watched Arnie's eyes and figured he'd heard some of those whispers. He'd been monitoring Beth as a patient, but he apparently scanned the vivacious Connie as a prospect. “He's all yours, Connie,” she whispered, but even the corporal must have heard it, because a thin smile formed on his pudgy face.