Hidden Motive (10 page)

M
urph and Sable rushed down the stairs to find Jerri and Bryce scrambling into the hallway from the family room. Perry burst through the kitchen door, his shirttail half out of his slacks, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

“What happened?” he cried. “Was that Audry? She was screaming like a banshee. I nearly caught the kitchen on fire.”

“Someone hurt?” Jerri said. “Again?”

Murph shoved on his shoes. He was tying his laces when the back door flew open and Audry stumbled inside. She wore a hunter-orange knit cap and her thick, green wool coat.

“I found Simmons in the creek,” she said breathlessly. “I've tried to get him up, but he's too heavy. The guy's freezing to a chunk of ice. Come and help me get him inside.”

“Is he breathing?” Murph asked as he followed her out ahead of the others.

“He was when I first grabbed him, because he fought me. I had to wrangle him out of the creek, and he passed out on me.”

Murph caught up with Audry halfway across the backyard.

“Look.” She pointed toward the creek a couple hundred feet away. “I saw him from the kitchen window. When I got there all I could do was grab him by the sleeve and drag him to the bank. It's impossible to get any traction on that ice. I can't imagine what he was doing out there, the silly thing.”

Murph recognized the muscular, broad-shouldered form of Simmons lying faceup, half out of the frigid, rushing water.

He scrambled over the treacherous ice to the man's side, sank to his knees and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Simmons!” he shouted, shaking him vigorously.

No response. He didn't appear to be breathing. Murph leaned close and felt no warmth of exhalation, heard no sound. He gently tipped the man's head back and lifted his chin to establish an airway.

Still no breath, no movement.

“What's going on?” Audry demanded behind him.

“He isn't breathing.” Still holding Simmons's face tilted slightly upward, Murph managed to pinch the nostrils shut. He covered the man's mouth with his own and exhaled twice, deeply, slowly.

No response.

Murph slid the first two fingers of his right hand down into the hollow of the victim's neck, feeling for the carotid pulse. Simmons's pulse was weak.

“I've got to start CPR,” he told Audry. “Get Sable—”

“I'm here,” came her welcome voice behind him.

“Take his head, I'll do compressions.” He scooted aside, unzipping Simmons's jacket while Sable slid into position at the man's head.

Murph was on his knees beside Simmons, in position to begin the first compression, when he saw Sable give another rescue breath.

With the fingers of both hands locked together over the lower third of Simmons's breastbone, Murph gave five compressions.

Sable was just leaning forward to breathe Simmons again when the man choked, gasped, sat up suddenly and coughed violently, spewing creek water in the chill air.

Murph held him steady until he stopped coughing.

Simmons jerked around, eyes wild, shivering.

“It's okay,” Murph said. “We've got to get you inside. Let us help you up—”

“No!” Simmons cried. He choked again, a loud, rasping sound that brought up more of the creek water.

“Mr. Simmons,” Sable said, leaning on Murph's shoulders to lever herself up to her feet, “you fell into freezing water. We've got to get you inside and warm you up. Can you walk?”

Simmons crabbed sideways in the water, his legs pumping ineffectively. “Can't feel them…can't feel my feet!”

Murph nodded to Sable, and together they helped the man up. “Hang on,” he said, grasping Simmons around the waist and lifting him over his shoulder.

The drenching chill of water soaked through his shirt. Immediately, his feet slipped and he stumbled forward. “I need help. Is Craig—”

“I'm here.” Bryce scrambled down to them. “Let me help.”

Bryce, Murph and Sable manhandled Simmons's freezing body up the treacherous ice to the house, where Audry, Perry and Jerri waited.

Simmons choked again.

“Is he okay?” Jerri asked.

“What was he doing all the way down there, anyway?” Perry held the door open for them. “The outdoor privy is up here on the hill. Did he fall into the creek?”

“Of course he fell into the creek,” Audry snapped. “What does it look like? He went swimming?”

Murph carried Simmons into the house and lowered him onto the hearth in front of the fire.

Sable rushed to take the wet clothes Murph peeled from Simmons's near-frozen body. “Perry, would you pump a pot of water and start it boiling?” she asked. “We'll need as much warm water as we can get. Bryce, he'll need something warm to drink. Audry—”

“Right, warm blankets.” The lady ran up the stairs.

“We need to warm the blanket here on the grate. Craig, would you—” Sable turned, blinked. “Where's Craig?”

“I'll stoke the fire,” Jerri said. “Craig's probably out still hauling wood.” She disappeared down the basement steps.

Murph rubbed Simmons's hands. “Relax. We'll get you warm.”

The man's teeth chattered. “I couldn't get out, nobody'd help me out of the water! You were all gonna stand there—” He coughed again, gasped for air, shook his head. He peered around the room, then back at Murph. “You'd've let me drown.”

“You didn't drown, obviously.” Murph eased Simmons backward and removed his footwear. His feet looked pale and were icy cold to the touch. “You're safe now. What happened?”

Still in her stocking cap and coat, Audry brought an armload of blankets. “Wrap one of these around him.”

Simmons swore. “Keep her away from me!”

“Nonsense, you're delirious.” Audry spread out another blanket.

“Get away!”

Audry frowned. “What's going on here?”

“You wouldn't let me out of that creek.”

“I'm the one who dragged you out of there, you dolt!” she snapped. “You fell in and couldn't climb out on the slick ice, so don't blame me for your clumsiness. What were you doing out there, anyway?”

He raised a trembling hand and pointed at the knit cap on Audry's head. “You pushed me back in.”

Perry came in carrying a mug from the kitchen. “Out of the way. I've got a warm cup of soup broth here. Come on, Simmons, drink up. This will warm you faster than—”

There was a thump from the front porch, and Dillon barked. The front door flew open, and Craig entered noisily, stomping his feet on the mat, unzipping the front of the coveralls he wore. His movements gradually slowed, as if he realized he'd become the center of attention.

“Where'd you get those clothes?” Audry demanded.

Craig pulled off his orange-red stocking cap and shrugged out of the dark green coveralls. “From the mudroom. Sorry I didn't mention it earlier, but there are a couple more coveralls and caps out there, in case anyone wants to go for a walk. Not that I'd recommend it.” He tossed the outerwear over the hearth, then looked at the silent group with a frown. “What happened? What's wrong with Simmons?”

“Someone tried to drown me,” Simmons snapped. “Someone in an orange cap and green coat.”

“Well, it wasn't me,” Audry scoffed. “What I want to know is what you were doing down at the creek.” She pulled the knit cap from her head, and her short, gray hair bristled with static electricity.

“I wanted to see if there was a way out of here.” Simmons shivered. “I checked the bridge, then started back to the house when I…lost my footing.” Simmons jerked the blanket more tightly around his thick shoulders. “Then one of you pushed me under and wouldn't let me up.”

Craig's dark brows lowered. “What's going on here? This is too much. There've been too many—”

“Later.” Sable slipped past Murph. “I need to get my medical bag and check our patient.”

 

After dinner, Sable left Murph and Craig sitting with Simmons by the fire while she escorted Bryce, Perry, Audry and Jerri up to the attic to see if they could find more clothes. The sky had continued to thicken with clouds as the sun went down, and the temperature hovered in the midtwenties. They were making plans for a longer imprisonment.

“I still think Simmons was hallucinating,” Audry muttered as she searched through a huge old cedar chest in the light from Sable's powerful battery lantern. “Did you see how fast he recovered during dinner?”

“Yeah.” Jerri lifted an old sweater and held it to the light. “But he wasn't as gruff. I think I like his postaccident personality. Maybe someone should've dunked him sooner.”

Audry pulled out a blue suit that Sable remembered Grandpa wearing to special functions when she was a little girl. “I remember this,” the older woman said.

“You do?” Sable asked.

Audry didn't meet her gaze. “I mean this style. It's back in fashion now, did you know? Too bad all the rest of us old things can't be back in fashion.”

Jerri laughed from across the room. “I think you have to be dead first.”

“Audry doesn't plan to die for a long, long time,” Perry said. “She can't boss people from the grave.”

“I've been good for you, admit it,” Audry said. “We've probably run half a pound off you today. I heard the way you were panting when you carried water upstairs this afternoon.”

“You'd pant, too, if you'd been up and down those stairs as often as I have today,” Perry retorted.

Audry turned and appraised the rest of the attic. “Beautiful. This is almost like an antique store.” She closed the lid of the chest and stepped around a box to get a closer look at an old pitcher and bowl set. “I love to look at old things and imagine the people who used them and the lives they led. This place is wonderful, and it's so huge.”

Sable itched to ask Audry if Josiah Kessinger had ever been a part of her imaginings.

“Audry, look,” Jerri said. “We could decorate a whole house with these things.” She skirted more pieces of antique furniture and rows of labeled boxes. “Well, maybe a small cabin. Is that what you did, Sable? Audry, your room is furnished with antiques, isn't it?”

“Yes, I think most of them are family heirlooms.” Audry picked up a ruby vase and held it to the light.

“Did Craig give you the grand tour?” Sable asked.

“No, and I wish he had,” Audry said. “Jerri and I took our own tour while the others were preparing for sleep. Simmons complained about the noise we were making. Properly chastised, we went to bed.”

“Leave it to Simmons,” Perry remarked from the far corner of the attic, where he leaned against an old chest, examining a stack of pictures. “He seems to enjoy ruining a good time.”

“That's okay,” Jerri said. “Because the lights went out soon after, and I wouldn't've wanted to be up here then.” Jerri swept through a curtain of cobwebs and peered at an antique pie safe in the corner. “Bad luck seems to follow me lately. I wasn't supposed to be driving this route. I drove up from Oklahoma City and got stuck in Joplin because my replacement was stuck somewhere on a road in Kansas. I shouldn't be here.”

Allowing the conversation to go on without her, Sable examined a pile of boxes along the back wall. “There's clothing over here. Why don't you three go through some of it while I show Bryce some of my brothers' old clothes.” She hoped they would take the polite hint. She had brought them up here to find clothing, not antiques. She didn't want them rummaging around in any of the unopened boxes before she had a chance to search.

The attention of the others finally focused on the clothing, and she was free to concentrate on Bryce.

Many of Randy's old jeans looked as if they would fit the fifteen-year-old, so he stepped behind a huge wooden wardrobe to try them on. While Sable waited, she gazed around the attic. With studied nonchalance, she strolled over to a cardboard file box, but was disappointed to find that all it contained were pictures.

She sorted through them idly. Despite all the photographs she had taken over the years, her favorite rendition of the cave was a hand-drawn map Grandpa had been working on for years. He'd kept it as complete as possible, including every cavern and passage, almost every formation.

She walked over to the map, which hung on the wall between two windows. Once upon a time it had held a place of honor in the family room downstairs, but during the redecoration last year, Mom had insisted on taking it down. Ordinarily, when the power was on, an overhead spotlight could illuminate the map like a museum exhibit, but now in the half-light offered by the oil lamps, Grandpa's intricate drawing looked like hen scratchings on the wall.

She leaned closer to the map. A smudge of red ink caught her attention at the far right, near the end of a small passage. She held her light closer. The new drawing was in the shape of a funnel, and below it was a circle with markings…it looked like the face of a clock.