A Broth of Betrayal (23 page)

“Do you think that old story has something to do with the two murders . . . or Elizabeth’s
disappearance?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll bet Maggie Harkins is the one person who might know.”

“Good luck there,” Emily answered. “I’m not sure what information you’d be able to
get from her. I’ve seen her walking along the road outside of town but either she
doesn’t want to talk to anyone, or she’s not quite right in the head anymore. I just
don’t know.” Emily shrugged and placed the photos at the side of her desk.

“You don’t happen to know where she lives, do you?”

“Sure do. I went there with Elizabeth a few times after Danny died. Just to pay our
respects. Elizabeth was very concerned about Maggie and wanted to do her best to be
helpful. You just continue down Elm Street and follow it until it turns into the old
Colonial Road. Go about five miles and you’ll see a row of mailboxes. After that,
take your first right up a dirt road and that’s her old farmhouse. It’s hidden but
it’s not too far off the road.”

“Thanks again.”

“You’re certainly welcome. You stop by anytime. I’m always glad of company here.”
Emily waved to her as she walked out the door.

Lucky sat in the car and glanced at the clock. Things would be quiet right now at
the Spoonful. She could return and fill Sophie in, but something urged her on. She
closed her eyes and leaned back against the headrest. Harry Hodges was murdered, and
Elizabeth disappeared. Which came first? Or were those two events concurrent? She
had tried to reach Elizabeth several times after Harry’s death. That was what had
alarmed her at first, the fact that Elizabeth hadn’t contacted them after Harry’s
body had been discovered. Several days later, Richard Rowland burned to death in his
construction trailer. Guilty or innocent of the little boy’s death, the talk in the
town must have been terrible enough to cause his family to move away. It was understandable
that Rowland hadn’t wanted old town pictures run with the interview. Were there more
connections between Elizabeth and the three men who were now dead? Maybe Maggie Harkins
would be willing to talk to her.

Chapter 34

E
LIZABETH HEARD MAGGIE’S
footsteps on the cellar stairs. Maggie mumbled to herself as she approached the door
and slid a fresh plate of vegetables through the broken space. The house had been
quiet since the day Elizabeth had heard the scream. She had listened carefully since
then but had heard nothing more than Maggie’s quiet steps above her.

Elizabeth rushed to the door and pressed her cheek against the wood. “Maggie, what
happened? Did someone hurt you?” Elizabeth listened carefully, so carefully she could
hear Maggie’s breathing on the other side of the door. “Who was here?” Elizabeth waited.
“Maggie, answer me!”

Elizabeth heard the sounds of Maggie shuffling away. A few minutes later she heard
voices again, and a man’s heavy footsteps. Was this the man who had caused Maggie
to scream? She had to take a chance. Help might be within reach. She rushed to the
bedding and grabbed her shoe. In the tiny washroom, she banged on the pipes and called
out. She continued striking the pipes until her arm cramped. Elizabeth winced. She
took a deep breath and massaged the taut muscles. In the few moments of silence, she
heard Maggie cry out. Then nothing. Elizabeth leaned against the wall, exhausted.
A strange smell filled the room, filtering through the floorboards above her head.
She froze in fear when she recognized the odor. It was gasoline.

* * * 

L
UCKY MISSED THE
turnoff on her first pass. She checked her odometer and realized she had gone too
far. This very road was one she and Sophie had driven just two days ago. Why hadn’t
she seen the entrance to Maggie’s house? She made a U-turn on the shoulder of the
road and drove back two miles. Then she turned again and this time, driving slowly,
scanned the side of the road. She spotted the mailboxes that Emily had described.
Most were rusted and barely noticeable against the dark tree trunks. She finally found
the dirt road. It was well hidden. Emily’s directions had been good ones, but the
drive was barely visible, half covered with encroaching trees. The sky had grown even
darker and thunder rumbled close by.

She turned quickly off the road and drove up a short rise. Tree branches swatted at
the sides of her car. In front of the house was a wide-open area. She pulled the car
against a stand of trees away from the house and turned the engine off. The building
itself was run-down, and for a moment Lucky thought Emily must have made a mistake.
This house looked abandoned. The overhanging trees blocked out the diminishing light.
Underneath the shade of the trees, a chill breeze blew. She shivered, suddenly fearful.

She had come this far. She wasn’t going to let a crumbling old house and a mumbling
woman stop her now. She tossed her purse in the back and climbed out of the car. She
called out, “Hello.” A bird in the distance cawed a response—a crow. She walked slowly
around to the side of the house. A late model dark sedan was parked at the side. Someone
was here. But was Maggie still here? Did she have a visitor? Or did the house now
belong to someone who planned to remodel the crumbling cottage? Lucky retraced her
steps and climbed the rickety steps to the front porch. She called out once again
but heard nothing. The front door stood open halfway. She knocked loudly but no one
came.

There was an overwhelming smell of gasoline. It was unmistakable. She stepped inside
and covered her nose. A moan came from a room to the left. It took a few seconds for
her eyes to adjust to the dimness. A human bundle sat on the floor. It was Maggie
Harkins. Her back was to the wall, her ankles were bound and her hands were behind
her back, tied to a radiator. Lucky rushed to her side. Maggie was whimpering under
her breath.

“Maggie, who did this to you?” Lucky asked as she struggled to untie the cord that
bound the woman. Maggie shook her head violently, a frightened look in her eyes, but
said nothing. The smell of gasoline was stronger here. Lucky spotted a trail of fluid
across the wood floor leading to a puddle of fuel in the small dining area. A red
can lay on its side. Whoever had tied Maggie up and poured gasoline through the house
could still be here. Someone had planned to burn down the house with Maggie in it.

“Hold on. I’ll get these untied,” she spoke encouragingly. Maggie looked at her with
watery, confused eyes. The cord was stiff and wouldn’t move. Lucky’s fingers were
shaking. She had to release Maggie before whoever had done this to her came back.
Or was someone here now, lurking, watching her? She ran to the kitchen and pulled
one drawer after another open. Finally she found a large knife with a serrated edge.
She ran back to Maggie and furiously sawed through the cord binding the woman’s hands.
Then she cut through the cord around her ankles.

A hollow clanging sound issued through the walls. Rhythmic. Too rhythmic to be old
pipes acting up. Lucky stopped and listened. “Maggie, what is that?” Maggie shook
her head violently, but didn’t answer. Where were the metallic thuds coming from?
Below. The sound was below. “Maggie, is someone down in the cellar?” Maggie shook
her head again and began to croon to herself.

Lucky dragged the woman to her feet. “Get out of the house. Run, Maggie. It’s not
safe here.” Once she was sure Maggie could stand on her own, she ran back to the entry
hall. A small door was tucked under the rise of the stairway. She wrenched it open.

“Is someone down there?” she called. A faint cry came from below. Someone was trapped
down there. Or was someone trying to trap her? Were they lying in wait? The same someone
who had poured gasoline over the floorboards? She had to find out. And then she had
to get far away from this house. She moved slowly down the stairs one step at a time.
Her heart thumped heavily in her chest. It was pitch-black except for a thin sliver
of light at the other end of the cellar. She called again, “Is someone here?”

“Here. In here,” Elizabeth screamed and banged frantically on the door.

“Elizabeth?” Lucky, her hands in front of her to keep from bumping into strange objects,
stepped carefully across the floor. She reached the door. Her eyes had adjusted somewhat
and now she could see the outline of the opening.

“Elizabeth! It’s me. It’s Lucky.”

“Lucky?” Elizabeth sobbed. “Oh, thank God. You have to get me out of here.”

“I will. Hang on.” Lucky felt the door with her fingertips. Some light came from the
other side of the door through a break in the wood at the bottom. A board acted as
a bar to the door. She grasped the heavy plank with both hands and lifted it up. The
door creaked and gave way, opening to a tiny room. Elizabeth fell into her arms.

“Thank heavens I found you. The whole town’s been searching for you. Are you all right?”

“It’s hard to walk. I hurt my ankle. Please, Lucky, help me out of here.” Elizabeth’s
clothes were streaked with dirt. Her feet were bare and her skin felt cold.

“Come on. I’ll help you up the stairs.” She reached an arm around Elizabeth’s waist
and led her slowly to the foot of the stairs. A loud, whooshing explosion reached
their ears.

“What’s that?” Elizabeth asked fearfully, clinging to her arm.

“Fire. The house is soaked with gasoline. Hold on to the railing. I want to make sure
we have time to get out. Don’t move.” Lucky rushed up the stairs. She heard a crackling
noise on the other side of the door and felt intense heat. The smell of old burning
wood was unmistakable now. Lucky kicked the door open, hoping against hope they could
make it out of the house—that the floor wouldn’t collapse before they could reach
the front door. The living room was engulfed in flames that licked at the walls. The
air from the cellar fed the conflagration. A wall of flame rose up, blocking her path.
An intense wave of heat almost knocked her down the stairs. She clung to the railing
and backed down as quickly as she could.

Elizabeth moaned. “It’s too late.” The flames had caught the door and it crackled
as old paint melted and peeled from the heat.

“We’ll find a way.” Lucky guided Elizabeth toward the thin sliver of light. “This
has to be a hatch to the outside. I’ll let go of you for a moment. Can you stand?
This might be our only way out now.” Elizabeth nodded and put a hand against the wall
to keep her balance.

Lucky took the two steps up to the opening of the hatch and pushed with all her strength.
It moved but wouldn’t open. The cellar had taken on an eerie brightness from the flames
upstairs and was quickly filling with smoke that curled above them, clinging to the
floor joists. There was still air to breathe but it wouldn’t last long. Desperate,
she looked around and spotted the workbench. “It must be locked on the outside. Hang
on. I’ll find something to break through.” She felt across the top of the workbench
hoping to locate a tool. Her eyes were stinging. She looked up. An axe hung from a
peg on the wall. She pulled it down and rushed back to the hatch, which she hoped
would lead to fresh air and freedom.

Using the blunt head of the axe, she struck at the boards. They were old and half
rotted. She continued to aim the axe at what she hoped was the weakest plank. She
heard a crack, not the crack of burning wood that came from above, but the crack of
old wood. A jagged square gave way and she could see light outside. The cellar was
filling with smoke and fumes. Her eyes burned and each breath hurt. They heard a tremendous
noise as the door at the top of the stairs gave way and crashed to the floor. Flames
raged through the opening. They were looking up into the mouth of an inferno at the
top of the stairs—an inferno that would rain down on them. They had to escape.

Using all her strength, Lucky struck at the partially broken wood. A large section
cracked open. It was just enough space for them to crawl through one at a time. “Elizabeth.
You first. Get out.”

“No, Lucky. You should go.”

“Don’t argue. Go. Now.” She grasped Elizabeth by the shoulders and pushed her up the
steps to the opening in the boards. “Climb through.” Elizabeth turned to the side
and was able to get her head and shoulders through the opening, but it wasn’t quite
wide enough to allow her to climb through.

“I’m stuck.” She sobbed.

“Hang on.” Lucky turned around, pushing her back against the stubborn boards. She
anchored herself on the cement stairs and pushed up with all her strength. Another
large section of wood gave way. She felt it tear against her bare arm. Pain shot through
her. But now there was a large, jagged opening. Elizabeth was free, stumbling out
onto the grass at the side of the house. Lucky followed. She grasped Elizabeth’s arm
and pulled her away from the burning house. They took shelter in the trees several
yards away and collapsed together on the ground, gasping and coughing. The windows
of the house had exploded outward from the intense heat. The yard was littered with
glass and burning debris.

Lucky reached over to Elizabeth and hugged her. “Thank heavens I found you. We need
to get to the car and get out of here. We need to get help.” She only hoped Sophie’s
car was far enough away from the house that it would be safe from the fire. And she
hoped Maggie had escaped. A deafening crash of thunder sounded above them. Immediately
a flash of lightning cut through the blackening sky.

“Can you stand up?” Elizabeth nodded and struggled to her feet.

“Let’s stay among the trees—it’s safer.” Lucky put a protective arm around Elizabeth,
guiding her, afraid she would collapse in her weakened state. Elizabeth could barely
put weight on her ankle and was forced to move slowly. They reached the last barrier
of trees. Sophie’s car was just a few yards away. “We’re here. Just a few more steps.”

Elizabeth nodded. “I’m sorry. I can’t move very fast.”

“That’s all right. Lean on me.”

A branch snapped behind them. Lucky, startled, turned around. Edward Embry stood a
few feet away. He was holding a gun and it was aimed at them.