Read Reap a Wicked Harvest Online
Authors: Janis Harrison
Reap a Wicked Harvest (21 page)
I asked, “Where's Natalie getting the money?”
“That won't be a problem.”
I said, “What if Dan refuses the child?”
Donovan laughed. “Come now. You know how much he loves Natalie, and you know how much she longs for a child. Do you seriously think Dan will deny her this opportunity when the agreement has already been made?”
“He would if he knew the circumstances.”
“That's my point, Bretta. He won't know.”
Another couple of points were bothering me. I said, “Let me get this straight. It was only you at the lodge this evening?”
Donovan nodded.
“Emily picked up Alicia, terrorized me, wrecked my SUV, and then came out here to settle Alicia into her temporary home.”
“That's right.”
“Why did you call the lodge?”
“To see if Natalie had told you anything about her previous phone conversation.”
“But why did you come to the lodge? Was it for an alibi?”
“No. I had no idea what you were up to. When I got to the lodge, I planned on saying that Emily had a headache and that's why she wasn't with me. I wanted to see Natalie for myself. If we could have an ordinary conversation without her telling me anything about the proposed adoption, then I felt sure I could trust her to keep it a secret.”
I shook my head. “This is crazy. What happens if Dad and I don't agree to your preposterous scam?”
Donovan's voice didn't change. “You'll die.”
I gulped. “Just like that.”
“The decision is yours.”
My father said, “I have to think things over, look at all the angles.”
Appalled, I turned to him. “Dad, you aren't considering this?”
He lifted a shoulder and winced. “I'm not ready to sign my death warrant, daughter.” He looked at Donovan. “You mentioned coffee earlier. Does that offer still stand?”
“Of course.” Donovan rose and backed toward the cabinet, keeping an eye on us.
My father sat on the edge of the sofa. “I take it black.” He glanced at me. “Don't you want a cup, Bretta?”
Short on patience, I snapped, “I'm not in the mood for refreshments.”
Ignoring me, Dad said, “Pour her a cup, Donovan. It'll settle her nerves.”
I glared at my father, who met my stare calmly.
In a normal conversational tone, my father said, “Bretta never knew her grandmother, a wise woman, whose life was cut
short by a bout of pneumonia. My mother's education didn't extend past the sixth grade, but when it came to understanding human nature, she should've had a degree. She had an adage for any and all situations. She could sum up life in an abbreviated fashion that was often astute and candid. She had a favorite saying that was tailor-made for this occasion.”
short by a bout of pneumonia. My mother's education didn't extend past the sixth grade, but when it came to understanding human nature, she should've had a degree. She had an adage for any and all situations. She could sum up life in an abbreviated fashion that was often astute and candid. She had a favorite saying that was tailor-made for this occasion.”
Donovan smiled politely. “And that would be?”
“Sow a sinful seed, and you'll reap a wicked harvest.”
Donovan thought a minute, then said, “On the surface it sounds apropos. The babies we brought into this world might have sprung from a sinful seed, but their births could hardly be called wicked.”
Dad's stare was unrelenting. “The wickedness comes from your preying on the needs of people who can't have children of their own. You harvested those innocent babies like they were a field of corn and sold them for the almighty dollar. I knew the cornucopia in the garden was symbolic of this case. It represents a time of fruitfulness. The good book says, âBe fruitful and multiply and replenish the earth.'”
Donovan frowned. “Let's leave religion out of this, shall we? I chose the cornucopia because it was close to the waterfall. The noise of the water flowing over the boulders would muffle my conversation with Marnie.”
Dad's tone was disgruntled. “I was sure the cornucopia was symbolic.” He turned a sharp gaze on Donovan. “Perhaps subconsciously you chose that piece of statuaryâ”
I closed my ears to this absurd topic of conversation. Everything around me had a surreal feel. How could I seriously consider letting Donovan and Emily skip out on a double-murder charge? It was ludicrous, and yet, I loved Natalie. I would do anything for her. But why did it have to come down to this? The fate of a child.
Stop it!
I said to myself. There wasn't anything to consider. I would have to take my chances against Donovan and Emily. Surreptitiously, I looked around the room for something I could use as a weapon. The kitchen table didn't even have a vase of flowers that I could crash over Donovan's head. No table lamps, just a ceiling light. No knives. No scissors. Nothing.
I said to myself. There wasn't anything to consider. I would have to take my chances against Donovan and Emily. Surreptitiously, I looked around the room for something I could use as a weapon. The kitchen table didn't even have a vase of flowers that I could crash over Donovan's head. No table lamps, just a ceiling light. No knives. No scissors. Nothing.
Donovan interrupted my thoughts. “Let's get on with this. Here's your coffee, Bretta.” He handed me a cup, then turned to sit down. My father raised his steaming coffee like he was about to make a toast. Instead he tossed the contents at Donovan.
Donovan shrieked as the hot liquid burned his eyes and face.
Dad looked at me. When I didn't move fast enough, he grabbed my cup and slung it at Donovan, too. We were on our way to the door when it opened.
Emily took in the scene, put her hands up as if to physically stop us. I might not have known what my father had planned with the coffee, but I sure as hell knew what was expected of me at this moment.
I drew back my fist and slugged her. Blood gushed from her nose. My bruised knuckles burned like fire, but I didn't stop. I shouldered Emily out of the way and my father and I tore out of there, hobbling for our lives.
My father had been sitting too long after vigorous exercise. His muscles were stiff, and mine weren't much better. We staggered down the steps, past Alicia who didn't utter a word, and away from the cabin, using the old access road for our escape. We made fair progress until Donovan switched on the van's headlights.“I see you, Bretta,” he shouted. “You aren't getting away. I treated you with respect. I gave you an alternative. Now to hell with you both.” His voice dropped, but I heard him say, “Emily, get behind the wheel. Drive out there and cut them off.”
Dad glanced back, but I kept my gaze on the road. We could hardly walk, let alone outrun a van. There was only one choice. We had to leave this trail and cross the open valley. We had skirted this basin on our way down, drawn to the sound of the spring. But that route was back by the cabin, and we were too far away to change course.
If we could make it safely across the open expanse of land, we'd have to climb the steep slope near the water pit. Going up wouldn't be as easy as coming down, but I didn't think the van had enough horsepower to navigate that rocky incline.
My heart pounded. Dad's breathing was erratic. I should have left him hidden among the trees and drawn Donovan's
attention, but it was too late now. We were out in the open, crossing the valley that was as treacherous as an obstacle course. The ground was littered with debris that had floated on a turbulent river but had been stranded on dry ground once the water had receded. Cans, bottles, pieces of rusty tin were waiting to trip us up.
attention, but it was too late now. We were out in the open, crossing the valley that was as treacherous as an obstacle course. The ground was littered with debris that had floated on a turbulent river but had been stranded on dry ground once the water had receded. Cans, bottles, pieces of rusty tin were waiting to trip us up.
The van's lights quivered and quaked to a bebop rhythm as the vehicle bounced across the uneven dirt, closing the gap between us.
Abruptly, Dad stopped. “You go ahead, daughter. I'm slowing you down.”
“I'm not leaving you,” I said, pushing my shoulder under his arm. “Use me like a crutch. We don't have far to go.”
He chuckled weakly. “We must be looking at different points on the horizon because the way I see itâ”
“Don't talk.” We moved a few more feet and almost fell over a piece of driftwood. The log was scarred and battered from having floated down the river. Caught on land it had been bleached by the sun, buffed by the wind, and was almost smothered by weeds. The van was bearing down on us. I had a plan but it involved getting my father to move faster.
Under my breath, I explained, “We have to maneuver Emily into a position so she'll drive over that log. If she hits it, it might slow her down, and we can get up that steep embankment.”
Emily came at us fast and furious like a hawk that had spotted its next meal. “Please, Dad, keep moving, but stay in line with that log. We won't stand a chance if she doesn't take this path.”
He didn't answer. My aching muscles screamed in protest, but I gripped him around the waist, and we moved forward. What if Emily saw the log? Could she swerve in time to dodge it? If she accomplished that, she'd have a direct path to run Dad and me down.
I looked behind me. Emily plowed into the log, wedging it under the van's framework. The engine roared as she gave it more gas. The tires spun, stirring up dust. The transmission squalled as she jerked the gearshift into reverse. But the van didn't move. The log was jammed under the chassis.
With the van off our tails, I slowed our pace. “That should keep her busy for a while.”
“Where's Donovan?” asked Dad.
“I don't know. The last I saw of him, he was at the cabin, screaming at us.”
Dad shook his head. “I saw him get into the back of the van.
I whipped around. Donovan charged us, whirling a rope over his head. The lariat formed a circle that grew bigger and bigger. “Run!” I screamed. “He'sâ” I took two steps and stopped. My father wasn't fast enough. The circle of rope snaked across the space and dropped neatly over Dad's head, sliding down over his shoulders.
With a flick of his wrist, Donovan pulled the lasso taut, pinning Dad's arms to his side. Donovan gave the rope a hard jerk, tugging Dad off balance. He lay on the ground, struggling to get free.
Donovan stretched the rope tighter and walked back to the van where he tied the rope to the bumper. Emily had stopped revving the engine. She handed Donovan my father's cane. I watched Donovan approach. He slapped the shaft of the cane against the palm of his hand. His gaze pierced mine.
Donovan spoke quietly, “I don't have an ounce of mercy left in me, Bretta. Get your father into the van.”
I shook my head. “I won't do that.”
Donovan stepped forward and popped Dad's thigh with the cane.
My father groaned. “I'm accustomed to pain,” he said, clenching his teeth.
“Not the kind of pain I can inflict if your daughter doesn't cooperate.” Donovan raised the cane. “Help him up, Bretta. Do it now.”
I was afraid to bend over my father. With my head down, I'd be too vulnerable. I glared at Donovan. “Move back, and I'll do as you ask.”
He took three steps away. Keeping my gaze on him, I put my hands under my father's arms. I strained and struggled and got Dad upright. He wobbled, but he was standing. We moved toward the van to ease the tension on the rope, but Dad shrank back when Donovan raised the cane threateningly.
I was ready to take my chances against Donovan, but I heard something in the distance. Caught by surprise, we listened to this strange noise that sounded like an enraged bumblebee caught in an empty fifty-gallon barrel. At first I thought someone had started a lawnmower, but on this unkempt tract of land that would have been absurd. The sound was closer.
I turned this way and that, trying to locate the source and glimpsed lights weaving in and out among the trees at the top of the incline. The headlights were close together. The motor's timbre was powerful. The engine accelerated, and the machine shot down the slope.
When I saw it was an ATV, my spirits leaped with hope. Those feelings turned to apprehension when I recognized Jacob at the controls, dressed in his Amish clothing, his straw hat pushed firmly down on his head. As I watched he gave the machine more gas. The sudden burst of power nearly unseated him. He hunkered over the handlebars and thundered toward us over the rocky ground.
I glanced at Donovan. His mouth hung open in surprise. His
grasp on the cane had slackened. I took advantage of the situation. I made a quick grab for the cane and raised it above my head.
grasp on the cane had slackened. I took advantage of the situation. I made a quick grab for the cane and raised it above my head.
“Back off,” I said, swinging the cane, driving Donovan away from us.
“Bitch!” he screamed. Running to the van, Donovan shouted at Emily to get the hell out of his way. He leaped into the front seat. The van's engine screeched in outrage as he tromped on the gas. He abused the transmission, putting the lever into drive and then into reverse.
The rope had Dad tethered to the van's bumper. If Donovan freed the van from the log, my father would be draggedâ
I dropped the cane and worked some slack into the lasso that pinned his arms to his sides. My hands shook and my ears rang. The bedlam created by the two gas engines was deafening.
Jacob brought the ATV to a stop next to me. “Bretta,” he yelled, “why is your father's truck parked out on the road? Mrs. Parker saw you pull off the highway. We've been waiting and waiting for you up at the house. She was worried so she's called the police.”
I didn't answer, but kept working with the rope. I enlarged the circle and gently pulled it up and over Dad's head. Letting the rope drop, I turned to Jacob. “Help me get Dad up behind you.”
Jacob shook his head. “Jess says it's too dangerous to ride double.”
I yelled, “Then get off and let Dad on.”
My father perked up. “I can go for help.” He picked up his cane and handed it to me. “I won't need this, but you might.”
Jacob climbed reluctantly off the four-wheeler. “Do you know how to drive an ATV?” he asked Dad.
“I'm a fast learner,” said Dad, as he straddled the leather seat.
Jacob pointed to a thumb lever. “That's the gas. This machine has an automatic transmission, so you don't have to worry about shiftingâ”
I'd turned so I could see Donovan's progress. He was making headway, edging the van off the log. Agitated, I interrupted, “Forget the lesson. Dad, hit the gas and get out of here.”
He pressed on the throttle, and the machine leaped forward. Dad clung to the handgrips and rode off. Now that he was out of the way, I said, “We don't want to be anywhere around if Donovan gets that van free.”
Jacob finally figured out the scene. “He is Marnie's killer?”
“Yes. If we can get up that slope, the van might not be able toâ” I stopped. Why talk when we could be moving. I took Jacob's arm, but he wouldn't hurry. He put one foot in front of the other, but it was as if his mind was far, far away.
“Jacob,” I said, tugging on his arm. “You don't understand. We have to get out of this valley.”
“I am understanding more and more, Bretta. Have you ever seen something that you thought had nothing to do with you, but after thinking about it, you realized it was a piece of your life?”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
He picked up the pace, both physically and vocally. “I have thought often about the link to me that Dixie said she was giving away. I didn't know what she meant, but I figured it was her English way of saying she was turning her back on our love.”
Jacob shook his head. “But I have been stupid. I never thought that a mother would give away her own child, but I think that's what Dixie did. She gave away my child.” His voice cracked with emotion. “The child she and I made from our love.”
What could I say to get this man moving? Behind me the tempo of the van's motor changed. The whining transmission stopped. I knew the exact moment when Donovan freed the vehicle from the log.
“He'll be coming after us,” I said. “We have to hurry.”
“He is the one who took my child?”
“Yes, Jacob. He wants me dead. Since you're with me, you're in danger, too.”
Jacob took a firmer grip on my arm and hustled me forward at a rate of speed that made my feet feel as if they were skimming the ground. Abruptly, Jacob changed direction. The slope was directly in front of us, but he was staying on flatland.
“No, Jacob,” I said, pulling back. “We have to climb the hill.” I cocked my head so I could listen. Sirens? I prayed my ears weren't playing tricks on me. But how close were the patrol cars?
Lights bore down on us. There was no place to hide. No place to get away from the van that spurted toward us.
Jacob stopped and searched the ground. He picked up a rock that was as big as his fist. Turning to me he said, “I will meet this modern-day Goliath.” He walked away from me into the path of the oncoming van.
I stared in horror. Was this young man so miserable that he didn't care what happened to him? “No!” I screamed. “Jacob! No!”
A part of my brain noted that Jacob's Amish white shirt glowed in the van's headlights. He hitched up his suspenders, straightened his shoulders, and raised his arm.
In a calm voice, he said, “Lord, David I am not. Thy will be done.” He sent that rock soaring through the air. It hit the windshield squarely in front of the driver.
Emily's scream of terror ripped the night apart. Donovan
applied the brakes. The van veered, hit a boulder, and flipped. I held my breath, expecting the van to tumble into the water pit. The abused machine lurched and skidded to a stop on its side.
applied the brakes. The van veered, hit a boulder, and flipped. I held my breath, expecting the van to tumble into the water pit. The abused machine lurched and skidded to a stop on its side.
Jacob stared at the destruction. “Deliver us from evil,” he said quietly.
Other books
Hold Tight (The Embrace Series) by Colyer, Cherie
Time for Change by Sam Crescent
Brain Child by John Saul
Zeke's Eden: The Beginning (Zeke and Eden Book 1) by K Webster
My Friends Are Dead People by Tony Ortiz
Dark Revelation by S.E. Myers
Heather Graham by Arabian Nights
Galapagos Regained by James Morrow
The Ashes Diary by Clarke, Michael