Digging Up Death (A Mari Duggins Mystery) (31 page)

“We’ll have plenty of time to catch up, but not here.” He grabbed me by the shoulder and pushed me in front of him. I craned my neck, searching the living room.

How could I have been so blind? To know him all these years and never really know him at all. How could I have dismissed my growing theory so quickly when the evidence was right in front of me? All around me?

He linked his right arm in mine. I recoiled at his touch, wanting to hurl on his sneakers. “Give me the keys.”

I complied. He grabbed a worn leather satchel and escorted me through the living room, past Fletcher lying on the floor, blood pooling around his head. My insides cemented. “What have you done?”

Ignoring my question, he clamped his hand over my mouth and pushed me out the door and down the sidewalk.

Please, God, don’t let Fletcher be dead.

He pushed me in the Jeep, the gun trained on my head as he slipped in the rear seat. Heat seared through me as he handed me the keys. “Get on the highway and head north.” His even tone unnerved me. Void of emotion. Void of life. Void of our history together.

The engine rumbled to life. “How could you do this? It’s … it’s …”

“Ingenious?”

“Diabolical!”

Something cold pressed against my neck. Panic spilled through me. My stupidity hit me like a sandstorm, thick and suffocating.

I was dealing with a madman.

“Drive.”

“Where to?”

“Home.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

8:22 p.m.

WITH SHAKING HANDS, I shifted the Jeep into drive and glanced in the rearview mirror. Determined, threatening eyes glared back. Eyes I had looked into day after day. Week after week. Year after year.

My emotions seethed.

“Why would you do this? It doesn’t make sense.”

“I had no choice. Things got complicated. Now keep quiet and drive.”

The next twenty minutes passed in silence, thoughts careening through my mind, awkward prayers for God to work everything out for good. Prayers that Fletcher wasn’t dead. That I would make it out alive.

My hunch had been right. I hadn’t imagined the man in the window.

It was Henderson, and he was very much alive.

There was no lost pacemaker because Henderson hadn’t been cremated. The AME had to be in on the plan along with Susan and her creepy nephew at the crematory. She must have promised them a hefty amount of money from Henderson’s estate. But why did he need to fake his death and share his fortune with Susan? How did they fake his death? And how far would Henderson go to keep his secret?

I took the exit to Henderson’s estate, but instead of turning down his long driveway, he directed me toward a dirt service road. Dressed in baggy blue jeans, a grey plaid shirt, and tennis shoes, he looked more like a maintenance worker than the owner of this sprawling estate. With his clean-shaven face and dyed-brown hair, he appeared ten years younger. I never would have recognized him. I guess that was the point.

“Park ahead in those trees.”

In the distance, a human-like scream prickled my skin.

“Hand me the keys and get out slowly, my dear. Don’t forget this.” He handed me my purse. “Give me your cell phone.”

He snatched it, removed the battery, then returned my phone. “No use calling for help or running. My property goes on for miles. But if you think you might chance an escape, the cougars will find you before you reach the road, and they won’t be as merciful as I.”

My legs buckled when I stepped from the Jeep. Could the man I had worked with side-by-side all these years look me in the eyes and end my life? He grabbed my arm and shoved me down a cement walkway. The biting wind blew against my body.

“Why are you doing this?”

“You should have minded your own business.” The voice, strong and determined, chilled me to my core. “Everything would have turned out beautifully if you had just kept your pretty little nose out of it.”

Henderson’s words faded as my father’s words assaulted my psyche, dragging me to the past.

Keep your nose out of it, Marianna. Matt is ours now. Leave and never come back.

They were the last words he said to me before I ran out the door with Matt and he murdered my mother, then turned the gun on himself. Coward. Just like Henderson.

“Pick up the pace, Mari.” Henderson pushed me forward, the gun pressed between my shoulder blades. My ankles wobbled in my heels as I trudged toward an unknown destination. An inconceivable destiny. Henderson thought he had everyone fooled, thought he would get away with it, but if I figured it out, so would Detective Lopez. Soon he would get my message. Eventually he’d find me. But would it be in time?

The emotional dam inside me breached in a thunderous wave of fury. I wasn’t ready to die, especially at someone else’s hand. “Why are you doing this?”

“Mari, you have to realize it wasn’t part of the plan.”

“What
was
the plan? To fake your death, run away with Susan, and live off her inheritance,
your
money, in relative obscurity? That doesn’t make any sense. You’re worth more alive than dead.” Or was he? Susan would inherit his estate plus the insurance money. How much was he worth dead?

“Good deduction, but not entirely correct.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Enough talking.” He pressed the barrel deeper into my back. I’d been terrorized by my father all my life. I wasn’t about to let Henderson bully me into an early grave without a fight.

“You’re a teacher and a scientist. When did murder become part of your job description?”

“I’m sorry you had to get involved. No one was supposed to get hurt.”

He shoved me inside a cement building. As he reached for the light switch, I jetted toward the door. Henderson grabbed my arm; his quickness surprised me as he jerked me toward him. My shoulder wrenched, and I shrieked. He threw me to the floor. My knees and hands slapped the cement, popping off a fingernail.

“Don’t try that again, or I’ll feed you to the cougars.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

8:59 p.m.

WITH THE FLIP OF a switch, light spilled into the room and into my consciousness. I might not make it home alive. I needed to escape, but how? I shielded my eyes from the brightness as Henderson yanked me to my feet. The small room, walled with switches and levers, had no windows.

He lifted my dangling purse onto my left shoulder and used some discarded wire to tie my hands in front of me. Holding the excess wire in the same hand as the gun pointed at me, he fumbled with the wires on the wall. “That should keep security busy for a while.”

Henderson led me by the makeshift leash to the far side of the building. Like a stubborn pup, I resisted his tugging even though the wires dug into my skin. He forced me into a golf cart and sat next to me. “Drive toward the house.”

I raised my hands, which were tied so tightly I couldn’t even separate my wrists.

“Come now. You’re a smart girl. Surely you can figure it out.”

I grabbed the top of the steering wheel with my right hand, and balled my left, my elbows pressing against me in an awkward position. “Wouldn’t it be easier if you drove?”

“Why would I want to make it easy for you?”

“Which way?”

Henderson pointed to the left, his gun resting on his lap.

I pressed on the gas.

Henderson lurched, then glared at me. “Don’t get any foolish ideas again. I won’t be so forgiving next time.”

I managed to steer as best I could with my bound hands. His property stretched out on every side. Never ending—trees, fields, rocks, but no light shone in the distance. Just as I’d imagined eternity.

Henderson was desperate. He’d gone to a lot of trouble to orchestrate his death, and I was the one thing standing in his way to freedom. My lips quivered. I had failed, again. My mother. Jack. My children.

I’m sorry, Momma, for not being there for you. For leaving. For letting Daddy hurt you.

A physical ache I hadn’t experienced in years consumed me. I longed for my mother’s embrace, to hold my own children one more time. To tell Matt that I was sorry I was a coward and left him with that wretched man all those years. Tears blurred my vision.

Forgive me for wasting the precious time I had on earth, worrying about things that just don’t matter anymore. I’m sorry for not being a better mom. A better wife.

If I only had more time. Henderson guided me to a paved service road that led to the rear of the mansion. My time was running out.
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside the still waters.
“Natasha should be home soon.” I sniffled.

“She’ll be busy for hours, shedding crocodile tears at the reception, milking sympathy for my death.”

“What about the butler? Your staff? They’ll see you.”

“Naïve, Mari, don’t you think I’ve considered all that? I’ve been planning my death for a while now. They’re all at my memorial. We were leaving right after the reception, but we ran into a snag when Natasha got to my safe deposit box. A small oversight easily rectified with your help.” He pointed to the service entrance of the mansion.

After I parked, he shoved me out of the cart, pushing me toward the door. My purse slid off my shoulder, knocking against my knee as we walked. “Your unexpected visit proved to be a blessing. Thanks to you and the use of your vehicle, I should be finished here long before the reception has concluded.”

“What about security? They’ll see you.”

“They’ll be busy checking the downed system.” He opened the door with a key and led me up the far staircase to the third floor.

“Now, if you’ll behave, my little quest shouldn’t take long.” Henderson dragged me through his bedroom, then what appeared to be Natasha’s room, searching for something. With no luck finding the item, he headed down to the main floor. He punched in the numbers to the trophy room. Natasha must not have changed the code. Unless Henderson preprogrammed a master code like our alarm system had at home.

As he scanned the room for the elusive key to his freedom, the last piece in his Houdini act, he grabbed a couple of small artifacts and shoved them into his satchel.

“You’re stealing your own artifacts?”

“Never can have too much expendable cash when you’re starting fresh.” He ran his hand against a larger statue. “I’m really going to miss this collection.”

All this time I’d been toying with the idea that Jack could have stolen them. Pure rage threatened to overtake my senses. If I was going to die anyway, I had to know. “You were involved in the forged Hatshepsut scarab, weren’t you?”

“Though I can’t take all the credit for that one, I will.” Henderson pushed me from the room. “I was building quite a nest egg until Peter threw a hitch into the plan by having the scarab tested after I authenticated it. I knew he’d be relentless and discover the truth; he never could leave things alone, so I had to act quickly. With Susan’s help, we were able to frame him for my murder. Brilliant, don’t you think?”

“Nauseating.” To think I helped nudge the scales toward Peter’s guilt. With Detective Lopez following the lead on Susan, I only hoped Henderson and Susan would get justice after I was gone. I waited for anxiety to rise as I contemplated my inevitable death. But it never came.
Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil. Your rod and your staff they comfort me.

We stalked down to his study. On his desk, along with other documents, lay a blue booklet with the familiar eagle emblem. He grabbed the passport, knocking over a photo of a dirty boy dressed in rags. The same boy in the stack of photos Fletcher and I found in Henderson’s office.
Fletcher … please don’t die on me.

My eyes widened with recognition as I looked from the photo to Henderson. “You’re that boy. You were in the Lyndon Inner-City Outreach program.”

He snatched my arm. “Now you understand why I can never go back. Come on.” He yanked me forward. “I’m sad to say your time has come.”

Adrenaline jackhammered through me. “How are you going to explain my death in
your
house?”

He grabbed my purse and dropped in two of the artifacts he took from the trophy room. “I’m not going to explain anything. Your body will. That, coupled with the evidence against Jack—”

“Leave Jack out of this.” A rabid urge to maul Henderson lurched within me, then slammed to a halt like a pit bull on a short leash. I had to rein in my temper if there was any chance of surviving. “He had nothing to do with it.”

“He has more to do with this than you know.”

“You’re lying!”

“As we speak his body is being dumped—”

“No!” I sucked in breaths, choking as if I were drowning in the sea of retribution, struggling against the waves of my sin.

“Oh, yes, after the unfortunate explosion in the lab, my associates and I had to tie up loose ends. Someone had to be sacrificed. Since Jack was fairly new to the organization, he got the honors. Everything points to him. He’ll be blamed for the forgery and theft of the Hatshepsut scarab. Not exactly how I first envisioned things, but a convenient and fitting ending.”

“Jack would never be involved. He’s not like you.” I tried to wiggle from his grip, ignoring all the mounting evidence I had collected against Jack.

“Come now, Mari, how gullible are you really? How do you think I got the fake scarab instead of the real one?”

“Jack?”

“Yes, Jack. If it wasn’t for people like him, I wouldn’t be as rich as I am. To tell you the truth, I never thought he was man enough for the job. But then again, who could resist the kind of money he was making?”

My strength slipped, life draining. The one thing I had clung to, stood firm on, had been ripped out from under me. Not Jack. Sure I had thought it, but I never actually believed it. How could he have deceived me? In time I might be able to forgive him for leaving me, but this? Even if Jack were alive, to me he’d be dead. What more had I to live for?

Ben, Hattie, Matt … Fletcher. If he was still alive. God, you’ve taken everyone I’ve ever loved away from me. Please, don’t take him.