Hidden Motive (19 page)

T
he moonlight bounced against ripples in the creek, so close Murph felt the droplets on his face. Flooding along this creek had obviously caused the erosion of the sinkhole.

After tying the rope securely to the bush he'd used for leverage, he had dropped it back into the cave, then scrambled down toward the water.

Oil lamps still glowed from the windows at the house. Murph studied it to see which window Sable had left open.

Take care of her, Lord. Protect her.
He saw the distinct outline of Craig's body in the moonlight.

He glanced back, expecting to see Sable. He didn't. What was taking her so long? He should have insisted she hand him the gun. But one did not force Sable Chamberlin to do anything.

Above the chatter of the creek, he thought he heard a weak moan. He didn't dare turn on his flashlight, but crouched and listened. The moan came again.

“Craig?” he called.

Another moan, mumbled words, then, “Help me…trouble.”

Murph glanced toward the sinkhole once more. Sable still hadn't emerged from the cave.

“Murph,” Craig called weakly. “That you?”

Murph couldn't wait. He slid down the bank, catching at frozen stubble and rocks to slow his descent. Once out of sight of the house, he switched on his flashlight to find Craig holding his gloved right hand over his heart. Blood stained the glove and glistened from a wound in his chest.

Murph released his hold on a rock and slid the rest of the way down. “I'm here.”

 

Simmons remained frozen in her sights, mist swirling around him, enhanced by the glow of his flashlight. He no longer looked frightened.

Murph hadn't warned her about this—that she wouldn't be able to shoot at point-blank range.

Simmons darted and rushed. She squeezed the trigger. Hard. The gun didn't fire.

Simmons grabbed the shotgun from her and slung it across the cavern as he raised his pistol to her face. “It needs a firing pin. You should have checked for it before you brought it down.” He aimed his light at the cave wall. “Looks like you found the treasure. Silver, is it?”

“You took the map from the attic.”

“Nope, but it doesn't matter right now, does it? A fella can't mine something from someone else's property. Not until that property's his.” He stuck the flashlight into his rear pocket so that the beam reflected from the ceiling, muting the cavern glow. He patted Sable down, and found the pistol she'd stuck into her waistband. She was weaponless.

“Let's go,” he said. “Any sudden moves, and I'll shoot you in the head and find what I need some other way.”

 

“Others safe?” Craig asked.

Murph unzipped Craig's coveralls, reassuring the man without answering him directly.

The bullet wound was high on the left side of Craig's chest. With Sable's stethoscope, Murph listened to Craig's breathing. As he'd feared, the bullet had collapsed the lung, but Craig was talking, so his airway was clear. His heart rate was a little fast, and his blood pressure wasn't too bad; he hadn't lost too much blood.

“Craig, I'm going to roll you over and see if there's an exit wound on your back.”

There wasn't.

“Is it bad?” Craig asked.

“Not as bad as it could be. You must have started to turn away when he fired so the shot didn't enter straight on. That, plus the heavy coveralls gave you some protection.”

“I'll live?”

“You will if I have anything to do with it.” He rolled Craig back over. “I'm going to place a pressure bandage over the wound. It's going to hurt, so brace yourself. You might have a broken rib or two from the impact of that bullet.”

He placed four-by-four gauze pads on the wound and anchored them with the Elastoplast strips. Craig groaned but didn't complain.

“Now, this is going to hurt,” Murph said. “I've got to get you to the house. Just hang on.”

“Sable okay?”

“You know Sable, she can hold her own. Now let's go.”

 

Sable and Simmons were nearing the cavern where Audry and Perry were hidden. Sable had to do something fast to warn them.

“Why did you kill Jerri?” she asked.

He shoved her forward roughly. “Just keep walking.”

“Why did you try to kill me the night we arrived?”

“I didn't.”

“You're not the one who pushed me?”

“I didn't say that, I said I didn't try to kill you. Paul Murphy moved.”

“You were trying to kill Murph?”

“Shut up and walk.”

For a moment, she just placed one foot in front of the other, but she couldn't resist a comment. “If someone had pulled me from an icy creek, restarted my heart, breathed life into my lungs, I'd have second thoughts about killing again.”

“You might,” he said. “But you're not me.”

 

Murph crouched in the sewing room beside Craig, barely daring to breathe. His respect for the overgrown kid had increased as Craig managed not to cry out as he was dragged and carried over the ice and up to the second story window.

Now, if only Dillon didn't bark and give them away. For all Murph knew, Simmons wasn't in the house, but he couldn't risk it.

“Craig, I've got to get you to a hospital soon.”

“Can't,” Craig said. “Got to help the others.”

“I know.”

“The…man's crazy…don't let him get away with this.” Craig struggled to get up, but fell weakly back against the sewing counter. “And get Boswell. You have a gun?”

“Sure do.” He eased Craig against the wall. “Lie still until I can get you to some help. Keep your feet up.”

“I'm…not going anywhere.”

Murph rechecked Craig's vitals. Little change. “I'll get you out of here as soon as possible,” he promised.

He went swiftly through the room, pausing only when he landed on a squeaky board. He stepped past Perry's open case, stopped and aimed his light inside. Cookbooks. He reached down and picked up the thickest of the set. Too light. He replaced the book, selected a heavier one and hurried into the hallway, listening for the slightest movement downstairs.

He desperately needed to backtrack and find Sable, but then he heard Bryce's voice.

Murph rushed to the landing at the top of the stairs and peered over the railing. Bryce was facedown in front of the hearth, looking like a securely tied calf at a rodeo. Next to him stood Dillon. Bryce was talking to him.

Murph gauged the weight of the book in his hand. He descended the first step on the staircase, taking care to place his feet on the outer edges of the steps to reduce the possibility of creaks that would give him away.

Dillon saw him immediately from his perch near Bryce. The dog wagged his tail and whined.

Bryce struggled within the confines of the cord that held him until he could turn his head enough to glimpse Murph.

“Murph!” he said. “Hurry! Simmons is down in the cave.”

Flooded with relief, Murph rushed to the boy, dropping the cookbook on the sofa.

“I've got to hurry back down,” he said as he fumbled with the cord at Bryce's wrists. This night was not over yet.

 

Sable knew her landmarks well. It wasn't much farther to the house from here, and Murph could be anywhere. Simmons held her arm loosely enough for her to pull away if she wanted to—if only he didn't have his finger on the trigger of that gun.

A low growl from up ahead stopped Simmons. Sable felt a sudden rush of joy and relief.

“Who's there?” Simmons demanded.

“It's my dog,” she said. “He probably followed you down here.”

“I closed the door behind me,” he said.

“That door won't stay closed. Remember the ghost stories Craig and I told?” She didn't mention that Dillon would never come into the cave alone or with strangers. “Here, Dillon.”

The growl ceased. Dillon trotted from the shadows, wagging his tail. Sable reached for him, but Simmons yanked her back.

Dillon snarled.

“No, Dillon.” Sable peered into the dark crevices behind the dog.

Simmons thrust her forward. “Get to the house.”

As he stepped up behind her, something moved beside them, a quiet rustle of clothing and footsteps on the hard clay. Something struck Simmons in the side. He grunted and fell sideways. Sable yanked from his grasp, swung around and jerked her knee upward—perfect shot.

He buckled forward with a cry of pain.

Sable dropped to the ground and rolled out of his reach, her flashlight clattering on the rocks a few feet away.

The blast of a gun reverberated through the cave. Sable scrambled through the blackness and dived behind a rock as Simmons turned his light back on.

His footsteps came toward her. She lay praying silently for whoever had hit Simmons once to hit him again. Was it Murph? Where had he gone? She crept more deeply into the shadows.

M
urph slammed into Simmons from the side. The gun and the flashlight flew from the man's hand, bouncing off the wall and landing on the ground. The wayward beam gave just enough light for Murph to see him.

Simmons punched Murph in the gut. Murph slugged Simmons in the face. Simmons grunted, stepped back, launched a kick that caught Murph high and hard on the chest, driving the holster and pistol into his sternum, knocking the wind out of him and knocking him to his knees.

Sable cried out. Simmons had grabbed her. Still gasping for breath, Murph struggled to his feet, caught Simmons by the collar of his shirt and wrenched him away from Sable.

Simmons kicked out at her again, wildly, and his foot connected with the flashlight he'd dropped. It flew over the side of the pit and crashed far below.

Darkness. Simmons landed a blow in Murph's solar plexus with his elbow, then jerked away.

Someone shouted to them from somewhere in the cavern.
Bryce.
Dillon barked, then snarled. Simmons cried out.

Murph reached inside his shirt for his pistol. “Sable!”

The darkness retreated as another flashlight came on somewhere in the huge cavern. There was a snap of metal. The wicked glint of a switchblade in Simmons's hand caught the light. He started to lunge forward, but when he saw the pistol in Murph's hand, he stopped and took a step back.

A lightning-quick, muffled ping echoed through the cave. A red starburst spattered across Simmons's chest. He gasped, stumbling backward as shock registered on his face.

The switchblade clattered to the ground. Simmons fell beside it.

Reeling with pain, Murph found Sable in the dim light, rushed to her side and enfolded her in his arms. Breathless and shaking, she collapsed against him.

“It's okay, Sable. I'm here.”

“You came,” she whispered. “I knew you'd come.”

Aching and bruised, he buried his face in her hair, inhaling the sweet scent he'd grown to love as he'd worked beside her, admiring—

“Sable,” he whispered, “who shot Simmons?”

Sable raised her head. “I thought you did.”

The rumble of Dillon's growl echoed once more through the cavern.

“No,” came Bryce's frightened voice from behind the beam of his flashlight. “Dillon, stay back.”

Murph's breath stopped. “Bryce, what's wrong?”

There was no answer. Murph helped Sable to her feet and turned to find Bryce standing in the shadow of the ledge, brown eyes wide, his young face frozen in shock.

Beside Bryce stood Perry Chadwick, his high forehead creased in a frown, his thinning hair frazzled across his forehead. The glow of Bryce's flashlight outlined the dark shape of a weapon in Perry's hands.

For a moment, the sight was so incongruous, the impact of it didn't register for Murph.

“Perry?” Sable said. “What's going on? Where did you come from? Is that my gun?”

Dillon's growl rose in a crescendo.

“This, my dear,” Perry said, “is a beautifully crafted mini Uzi, complete with silencer. Don't refer to it as a gun.”

“But…I don't understand,” Sable said. “Bryce isn't—”

“You'd better control your watchdog, Sable, before I'm forced to resort to my own methods.” Perry's chubby fingers gripped his weapon with expertise.

“Quiet, Dillon,” Murph said.

The dog gave an anxious growl and fell silent.

“Mr. Murphy, drop the toy pistol, would you please?”

Murph had no choice. He complied. The pistol hit the ground with a metallic thud.

“Thank you,” Perry said. “Now, Sable, please don't start asking a bunch of silly questions.” He spoke as casually as if he'd been sharing stories by the fire. “You know what I want. Do you want to know what happens to Bryce if I don't get it?”

“Let him go, Perry,” Murph said. “You're not going to kill an innocent kid.”

“He's a teenager. Teenagers are never innocent. They get on my nerves almost as badly as dogs.” Perry kept his gaze trained on Sable. “Are you going to give me the evidence your grandfather collected against his poor, long-suffering partner? Don't try to tell me you don't have it. You gave yourself away earlier, remember?”

“Let Bryce go and I'll give it to you,” she said.

Perry grimaced. “I need a hostage, and I need those papers, Sable. Now. Don't trifle with me.”

“Do it, Sable,” Murph told her softly.

“Listen to your boyfriend,” Perry taunted. “Don't gamble with this child's life just for a little revenge.”

“But I'm not gambling anyone's life, am I?” she said. “You have no intention of letting us go.”

“What have you done to Audry?” Murph asked.

“Don't worry, she's hiding in the dark like a good little old lady, waiting for clumsy, heroic Perry to return. I took her flashlight. In case you needed it, of course.”

“Let Bryce go, Perry,” Murph said. “Take me if you need a hostage.”

Perry shook his head. “I'm not quite that bumbling, Mr. Murphy, contrary to the image I have led you to know and trust. Too bad Simmons opted for the old-style, muscle-bound approach to impress our employer. I knew it wouldn't work, though he made an excellent diversion. That just doesn't cut it these days. So much more is demanded now in our profession. Acting…cooking…prospecting for silver. Oh, by the way, Sable, the map was a great help. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

“And the watch?” Sable asked.

“If only it had contained a certain series of numbers, it might have saved us a great deal of trouble.”

Perry raised the Uzi and took another step, until the barrel of the gun was barely six inches from Bryce's head. “I think we've had enough conversation, don't you?” His voice turned hard. “The papers, Sable. Now.”

She turned slowly toward the house. “Those books,” she said. “You wanted us to see what was in your case, didn't you? You staged the whole thing, so we'd be too suspicious not to look. You left your case unlocked, even after that big show of outrage about someone searching it.”

Perry grinned. “I could've been on the big screen.”

“We didn't
open
the books, though,” Murph said. “The one I picked up tonight was too light for its size. I expected something heavy enough to throw against the wall as a distraction. Was it hollow?”

“Good job. Cookbooks are boring to most people.”

“No wonder you insisted on wearing that heavy jacket down here in the cave,” Murph said. “It hid the gun well.”

“You knocked me down in the attic, too,” Sable said. “You used the window in your room—the sewing room—and climbed over to an attic window. That was why it was so cold when I returned. Did Jerri catch you trying the safe?”

“You can't blame a guy for taking advantage of every opportunity. Did you enjoy my night-vision goggles in the cavern? Don't you just love that ghostly glow?”

Ghost eyes.
Murph glanced at Sable, and met her gaze. She hadn't been blinded by the fall, after all.

“Surveillance equipment?” Sable asked.

“Only the best.”

“You were in my room, placing that equipment. That's how you knew about the silver.”

Perry smiled. “This conversation is terribly interesting, I'm sure, but if you don't stop stalling, I'll be forced to blast our young friend's head to bits.” A sudden harshness in his voice gave a chilling emphasis to his words.

He walked them to the low ledge above the cave mouth. “You go first, Sable. Murph, you're next.”

 

Sable attempted to convey reassurance to Bryce with a nod, then turned and knelt to crawl into the basement. Murph joined her, followed by Bryce and Perry, whose aim never wavered. There was no awkwardness in his movements. He straightened and brushed at his clothes with his free hand.

As Sable turned toward the basement steps, Murph caught her arm and squeezed. She frowned and looked up at him. He squeezed again.

A flash of white caught her attention from the mouth of the cave. For a second, the cave's ghost had never seemed more real. But this ghost was actually a very angry woman in her late sixties, wearing a white sweater and black slacks.

“Okay, Perry,” Sable said quickly. “I'll take you to the attic and give you the papers you need, but why don't we work out a deal.” She continued to talk to cover the sound of Audry's movements. “If you're going to disappear anyway, one of Boswell's unseen minions, you could give us a fighting chance.”

“And how would I do that?”

“You can start by handing over that ugly-looking gun of yours,” Audry said from behind Perry.

Perry froze, eyes narrowing.

“And before you make a wrong move,” Audry said, “let me just mention that I have Murph's pistol—and Sable's, just for good measure. Don't think I don't know how to use a pistol, either. I taught classes in gun safety for ten years.”

She stepped into his line of sight. “So. You kill Bryce, you die. It's as simple as that.” The click of a safety release reinforced Audry's words. “There were a lot of things I didn't notice about you until you left me back there in the dark…or so you thought.”

Sable remembered the penlight Audry had used on the bus the night of the wreck. She always carried it with her.

A look of iron-hard anger flashed across Perry's face, then was camouflaged once again behind his bland expression. “I should have known, Audry. You are a woman of many talents. However, I can still cook better than you.”

Audry stepped forward and pressed the barrel of the Detonics against Perry's neck. “What am I going to have to do to make you drop that gun?”

He continued to aim the Uzi at Bryce for another long, agonizing moment, then sighed and lowered his arm. The Uzi fell from his hand with a heavy thud. “Don't shoot, Audry. I'm not that desperate.”

Murph snatched the weapon from the ground.

Audry stepped aside to allow Perry to precede her to the basement steps. “Don't try anything, Mr. Chadwick. My reaction time won me a couple of awards in shooting contests not too many years ago.”

“We've got to get Craig to a doctor,” Murph said. “Simmons shot him. I think the Jeep is ready to go. I'll do a little more chopping on the bridge before we cross it. I don't want to take any chances on the ice, especially now that we've come this far.” He glanced at Sable. “I'm driving.”

She shook her head. “I'm driving.”