Candy-Coated Secrets (27 page)

My breath caught. Richard Bland, or rather Richard Hodge, had courted me in July, using the name of Nate, after he discovered I’d located the diamonds he’d stolen. After kidnapping and attempting to murder me, he’d been shot and killed by Joe. “Yes, I remember Richard. Not his real name, as I recall.”

“No, that was his real name. His birth name. Mrs. Hodge was his adoptive mother. Bland is my name. Richard was my son. I had to give him up. Couldn’t justify dragging a baby around from fair to fair. Made a tidy sum off the transaction.”

“You sold your baby?”

“Happens all the time. Doesn’t mean I didn’t love him. I expected Mrs. Hodge to take better care of him. She sent him away to a mental hospital.” Sally spit. “What kind of a mother is that? But my boy was smart. He escaped. But you know all about that, don’t you?”

I couldn’t help but think craziness ran in Sally’s family.

She shrugged. “Anyway, so you see, dear, you were directly responsible for the death of someone very precious to me. Now, what do you think I should do about that?”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Ethan bolted to his feet.

Woodrow sprang across the coffee table, pulling a black rectangular object from his pocket. Before I could blink, Ethan lay still on the floor, groaning.

“Silly man.” Sally struggled to her feet. “We didn’t want to hurt you. Woodrow, have Summer help you drag teacher man out to the storage shed. Make it quick. He’ll be able to move soon. You don’t want to have to zap him again.”

With a wave of his pistol, Woodrow motioned for me to grab Ethan’s feet. “I’ll get this end.”

“I will not help you lock him up!”

“Would you rather I shoot him?” Woodrow cocked his head. “That’s Bob’s area. I’d prefer to lock them up and run, but maybe I can be persuaded.”

“You’re going to kill us. I’m not stupid.” I planted my fists on my hips. “We can identify you.”

“Fine.” Woodrow shook his head. “Would you like to watch as I shoot him?” He aimed the gun at Ethan’s head.

“No, please.” I reached for the gun, withdrawing as Woodrow twitched his trigger finger.

“Then grab his feet.”

My gaze locked with Ethan’s before I wrapped my hands around his ankles. He weighed a ton. And neither Woodrow nor I was big or brawny. Our inability to lift Ethan had him thumping down the wooden steps of the trailer, which was sure to leave marks on his gorgeous physique. Woodrow opened the door to a rusty metal shed and dragged Ethan inside, where he zapped him again.

“You’re going to send him into cardiac arrest.” I stared down at my jerking fiancé. A deep burn started in my stomach, then rose. My neck heated. My hands itched to form around Woodrow’s skinny neck. It took every ounce of willpower I possessed to keep myself in check. Turning on the man would only get me and Ethan killed. As long as I breathed, there would be an opportunity to escape.

“I can’t have him moving until I’m ready to deal with him.” Once Woodrow shoved me back outside, he turned to lock the padlock. “It’s your fault he’s in there. Everything is your fault. Sally’s son, Ginger’s banishment to the wild, Sally’s increased use of drugs. Everything.”

I took advantage of the momentary attention diversion and slammed him against the wall, taking a great deal of satisfaction from the grunt that escaped him. I grinned and sprinted around the building. I tried door after door of abandoned buildings and found them all locked. Sheer desperation sent me to the one building I wanted most to avoid.

The clown’s head seemed to mock me, bobbing and grinning its maniacal smile, as I darted down the track into the dark recesses. I knew we should have torn down the old building years ago, but it made a convenient haunted house for Halloween and got reused for the fair every year. I breathed a prayer of thanks to God that Woodrow hadn’t relieved me of my purse. Obviously the man didn’t suspect Summer Meadows of having a backbone. Few people did. I’d dwell a moment on that painful thought when I got out of there.

I withdrew my tiny pink flashlight and my cell phone. One glance at the phone’s dark face, and I swallowed against sobs. Again, I’d forgotten to charge it. I might, at times, have a spine of steel, but I also have a memory incapable of remembering the mundane.

How long until Woodrow discovered where I’d gone?

“Miss Meadows?”

Question answered. I increased my dash down the tracks, dodging the unmoving cars. The heel of my boot caught on a rail, and I sprawled across the iron tracks, banging my head on the plastic image of a monster wielding, thankfully, a rubber axe. As many times as I’d conked my head the last few days, it was a miracle I wasn’t in a coma. My purse disappeared beneath the closest car. I groaned.

I’d hated this place since the summer I’d turned thirteen and Joe had ridiculed me until I sneaked in after dark. Then, like the wonderful cousin he’d been, he’d left me there to find my way out. Ethan had been my knight in shining armor then.
Please, God, let him get free and rescue me this time
. Or maybe, against insurmountable odds, I would rescue him.

I shivered. An unreasonable fear swamped me every time I stepped near this laughing, creaking idea of some maniac’s sense of fun.

Getting to my feet, I placed a hand to my head and winced. A dark sticky liquid shone on my palm when I withdrew my hand. Wonderful. I blinked against the wetness.

“Are you in here, Miss Meadows? What a fun place to play a game of hide-n-seek, wouldn’t you agree? Makes me feel like a child again.” His voice sounded eerie in the tunnel. Its consistent tone of playfulness sent ripples of fear down my spine. “Sally decided she has no further use for you. She only wanted to torment you. Make you suffer a bit like she has the last few months. Mess with your family. She does like to play games. Then she’ll kill you in cold blood as you did Richard. The game is over, Miss Meadows. Except for the game we’re playing. This one is much more fun. If I had my way, I’d conk you over the head and go to Mexico. But, I need the missing cash for that.”

The man’s crazy.
Help me, God
. I thought the old coot wanted Sally dead. Then why this macabre chase through the fun house?

“It really shouldn’t have come to this.” The man’s voice seemed to come from my right. I ducked down a hall to the left.

“The accident in front of your house was my idea. That led to the ingenious plan of you walking Ginger to the fairgrounds. It should have resulted in your death then, which would have spared us all this. But we wouldn’t have had this wonderful opportunity to play. Who knew that stupid animal would take a liking to you? She’d hurt plenty of people before. People more skilled than you at handling animals. If everyone wasn’t afraid of Sally, the animal would most likely have been killed a long time ago. . . .”

Mirrors of all shapes and sizes surrounded me, illuminated by the moon’s rays through a skylight. More than twenty pale, wild-haired Summers surrounded me. Some tall, some skinny, some short, some fat. I whirled, searching for the exit. The room spun around me, making me dizzy.

“Don’t you like the moving floor, Summer? It’s a riot with the young people.”

My legs wobbled as if I were trying to make my way across the deck of a bucking ship. I fell to my knees. My gaze searched for a way out.

No track ran through to show me the way. A weird combination of thrills bent on providing a nightmare to anyone who sought one. With hands splayed in front of me, I ran my palms over the cold, flat, two-dimensional figures of myself, searching for an opening, a crack in the glass, anything.

Lord, show me a way. Please don’t leave me, having found a new, honest relationship with You, only to die in the dark by a madman’s bullet.

One of the panels swung free at my touch, exposing an opening. With a sob that bordered on hysteria, I threw myself into an even darker tunnel. The mirror closed. A groan reached me from the corner. “Who’s there?” My eyes strained through the inky blackness, broken only by the minuscule beam of my flashlight.

A man sat tied to a wooden chair, a dirty rag shoved in his mouth, bound by duct tape. I rushed to his side. “Mr. Foreman?” His eyes beseeched me to release him. He sagged against his bindings. “Have you been in here all this time? Did Bob put you here?” He nodded.

“Do you know where the money is?”

Mr. Foreman slid his gaze toward a chest in the corner. Wonderful! I would let Joe know as soon as I got out of here. I searched the surroundings for something to cut the zip ties that bound him. Nothing.

I spun at the noise of fumbling fingers on the other side of the mirrors. My heart accelerated to the speed of a race car.
Think, Summer
. “Mr. Foreman, nod in the direction of the maintenance room. There is one, right?”

He inclined his head to my left, bless his heart. “I’ll be back. I promise.” I shone my flashlight around the room until I discovered an opening in the back wall. Another tunnel led to my left, continuing the mad pursuit of terror and someone’s idea of fun.

This tunnel led me to a makeshift graveyard. Skeletons and zombies leaped from behind tombstones like deranged corpses. I choked back a shriek.

Through the walls, I heard him. “Mr. Foreman. How nice to see you again. Bob must have stashed you here, then got arrested before he could finish the job. Did that two-timer get the cash for himself? I’m rather surprised to find you alive. Once I’ve dealt with my current problem, I’ll be back to deal with you. Maybe together we can find where Bob stashed the dough. Oh, well, such is life. My guess would be that Miss Meadows came through here, didn’t she? Well, I’ll leave you to your business. I’ve a game to win. Then your hidden cash to locate. Busy, busy.”

The man gained on me. I raised a hand to my wet face. Tears now mixed with the blood.

A fallen tombstone, with the familiar
May he rest in peace
, lay next to my feet. I hefted the wooden shape in my hands and stood with my back plastered against the wall where I knew Woodrow had to emerge. I held the prop like a baseball bat. When Woodrow stepped through the door, I hit him. He fell to the ground, the stun gun flying from his hands. I wanted to search his pockets for the real weapon, but he groaned. I hadn’t knocked him unconscious. As he cursed and struggled to his feet, I fled the room.

“So, my dear, the game continues.” His voice followed me down yet another corridor. “Now, when I find you, I’ll have no choice but to shoot you. Sally wanted to do the deed herself. I still haven’t figured out why she didn’t want to shoot Mr. Banning along with you. She said she had no grudge against him. Oh, well. I’d wanted to play more, but, alas, that is no longer a possibility. You’re proving more resilient and sharp-minded than I’d figured. Good job. A worthy adversary. A welcome change from the empty-headed Millie and Lacey.”

Where was the maintenance room? My flashlight? I’d dropped it when I’d bashed Woodrow. A tiny beam of light shone around the corner. He’d found it, putting himself at a definite advantage.

I trailed my fingers down the wall as I ran, searching without sight for a gap. My chest burned with the effort to breathe normally. Sobs stuck in my throat, making each breath more difficult. I vowed to begin an exercise program as soon as possible.

God, please!

Then I found it. A door that, during the day, probably seemed part of the tunnel. I shoved against it, falling into a room full of tools, a workbench, and, thank You, Lord, another door. I grabbed a pair of wire cutters from the desk and burst outside. I took a deep breath. Ethan! I dashed toward the shed where Woodrow had locked up Ethan.

The door stood open, hanging from a busted hinge. He was gone. A volcanic rage exploded within me, and for the first time in my life, I had the desire to take someone’s life. I doubled over with the pain from my sobs, glancing again at the shattered hinge.

Wait.

Woodrow had the key. He had no need of breaking through. We weren’t alone in the deserted fairgrounds. I whirled at a sound behind me. Ethan leaned against the restroom wall, a bit unsteady on his feet, but alive.

“Ethan! Oh, Ethan.” I almost knocked him over as I hurled myself into his arms. “How did you get out? Who?”

“Miss Meadows?” Woodrow’s voice drifted to us on the breeze.

“We’ve got to hide. He’s coming.”

“You’re bleeding.” Ethan brushed aside my bangs.

“I’m fine. Come on.” I slid beneath his right arm to support his weight and led him back into the restroom. I spied urinals mounted on the wall and dragged Ethan to the single stall at the back of the building. I couldn’t help but think of Aunt Eunice. Even under these circumstances she’d be astounded that I’d gone into the men’s room. “Sit here. I’ve got to go back. Mr. Foreman is tied in the fun house.”

“No, Summer. There’s no need.” Sounds of a scuffle reached us through the walls. A boy’s shout. A thud. A curse. A yell of triumph.

A dimple winked in Ethan’s cheek. “Some of the football team is here. Seems they were up to a bit of mischief themselves. I heard them through the walls of the shed and yelled for help. They busted me out. And, since no teenager nowadays is without a cell phone, I had them call the police.”