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Authors: Cynthia Hickey

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Chapter Twenty-Six

I texted the killer’s identity to Duane and to
Bruce, then shoved the phone back in my pocket. I needed to get Dottie home—fast.
Careening into her hospital room, I came face-to-face with the exact person I
texted about.

Darla Quincy clutched a pillow in her
hands and leaned over Dottie. She smiled as I entered. “Is she going home
today?” Darla made a great pretense of fluffing the pillow and putting it under
Dottie’s head. “My, that seems early.”

“How’d you do it?”

“Do what?” A frown line appeared between
her eyes. Why hadn’t I noticed how deep it was before? “Do you have your column
done for the paper?” Darla stepped toward me. “Or any advertisements sold?
Frank is getting pretty temperamental about the state of his newspaper. As
nosey as you are, you should have plenty of gossip for your column.” She made a
motion with her head to something over my shoulder.

How long would it take Duane or Bruce to
get my message? Would they come here or go to her house? “I’m thinking about
quitting my job at the paper. Are you the one in charge of the obituaries?”

“What am I not in charge of?”

Something jabbed me in the back. “Come
on, Mrs. Steele. We’re all going for a ride.”

I sighed, recognizing Danny’s voice. Of
course the young man still tied to his mother’s apron strings would also be
involved. “Did y’all succeed in killing Dottie?”

“No.” Darla spun me around. “You
prevented that, thank you very much. Now, start walking and keep cool. If you
alert anyone that everything isn’t hunky dory, Danny will have to shoot you.
After all, what better place to get shot than in a hospital?
Take the stairwell, Danny. We don’t want to bump into anyone in the elevator.
Once we dispose of her, I’ll come back and finish off the old woman.”

My mind raced, trying to find a way out
of the sticky situation. With Danny behind me, gun in hand, and Darla walking
so close I could feel the gun in her pocket, escape seemed like a remote
possibility.

Looking both ways, Darla pushed open the
stairwell door. “It’s a long walk to the bottom. Don’t try anything, or you’ll
roll all the way, if you get my meaning.”

Loud and clear.
Another jab in the back
sent me walking ahead of them. Instinct told me my only chance of surviving the
day lay with Danny. Darla was nuttier than a chocolate peanut cluster.

Our footsteps echoed on the metal stairs
encased in a concrete block corridor. I thought about screaming for help, but
reconsidered. Doing so would result in one of two things: either I got a bullet
in the back, or a shove down the stairs. Neither option sounded like fun.

“Why are you doing this?” I paused, one
hand on the railing, and turned. “You could have walked out of Dottie’s room
and no one would have been the wiser.”

Darla snorted. “I could tell by the look
on your face when you saw me standing there, that you knew.”

“No,” I shook my head. “You were standing
there with a pillow about to put it over her face.”

“Semantics. Start walking.” She pulled
the gun from her pocket and turned her anger on her son. “Don’t stand there
like a baboon. Make her move.”

“I’ve always liked her, Mom. She’s done
nothing to me. Why can’t we let her go? We can head up to Canada or Mexico.”

I doubted the other women had done
anything to him either, but I wasn’t going to argue. “Why did you pick the
victims you did? I mean…none of them caused you any harm.”

“I want people to pay attention.” Darla
shoved me.

I grabbed the railing with both hands.
Vertigo attacked me as I glanced over the bars to the floor ten stories below.

“My mother died from a drug overdose and
lay, undiscovered, in her apartment for a week! Do you know what it’s like to
hear that kind of news?”

Maybe she should’ve called her mother
more. “These women weren’t drug users.”

“No, but they were alone. I gave people
warning to see how many of these poor old women would still be alone after
receiving a death threat.” She shook her head, her gun hand trembling. Danny
stood like a lump, head hanging, beside her. “They all were.”

I moved down a few more steps, stalling
for time. Where was Bruce?!

“Hurry up!” Darla’s screech bounced off
the walls.

“I’m trying. It’s difficult with a cast
on.”

“I’ll shoot you in the other foot and
leave you for dead, if you don’t pick up the pace.” Sweat beaded on her upper
lip and plastered her bangs to her forehead. Darla was losing control, and I
didn’t want to be in front of her when her finger twitched.

If I could survive until we got outside,
my chances of survival would double. As busy as St. Mary’s hospital was,
someone was bound to see us and be able to alert Bruce when he started asking
questions.

Danny still shuffled along, head down,
like a scolded child. Time to cut the apron strings boy, and do what was right.
I tried to connect gazes with him, but he didn’t even flinch when his mother
screamed for me to hurry.

“Why don’t y’all live together?” Keep ‘
em
talking. It always worked in the movies.

“That is none of your business, nosey
woman.” Darla waved the gun. “If I tell you something like that, it’ll wind up
in the gossip column.”

“Impossible if I’m dead.” I took two more
steps, holding tight to the rail. “Folks are saying the state took him away
because you had a drug problem.”

She paused. “Who said that?” She looked
at Danny. “Have you been talking about us to people?”

“No, Mother. You told me not to.” He
stared up at her, the cold glare in his eyes more frightening than the gun in Darla’s
hand. “Don’t I always do what you tell me?”

“Did she tell you to kill those women,
Danny? Did she tell you to cut Dottie’s brake line? Inject her with drugs?” I
took another step. “I can’t see your mother dirtying her hands. Not when she
has you to do the dirty deed.”

His mouth stretched into a thin line.
“Mother killed Amber.”

“Don’t let her kill again.” Another step.
Far below I heard a door close. I increased my pace, the cast clumping against
the metal stairs. “You can help me.”

Darla laughed. “Stop playing mind games
with him. I’ve trained him well. He only listens to me.”

“I’m not a pet.” He glared. “Stop
treating me
like
one. I was going to be a father!”

“That girl wasn’t worthy of you.” She
caressed his cheek.

These two had a sick perverted
relationship. I took two more steps, trying my best not to make too much noise
and divert their attentions back to me. A footstep scuffed below me. I prayed
it was Bruce. Duane would be nice, too, but his arrival would only put him in
harm’s way.

A door on the landing opened a crack. A
nurse poked her head through. I shook my head and mouthed “Gun”, right before
diving through after her.

My shoulder connected with the doorframe.
Shards of pain shot up my arm. It went limp.

I had no time to catch my breath. I
struggled to my feet as Darla and Danny banged down the few stairs that
separated us. Before the door opened again, I ducked into a closet and locked
the door.

Holding my shoulder, I slid to the floor.
They’d find me if I stayed there long enough, but I couldn’t go on without
rest. Tears sprang to my eyes as I rubbed what I guessed was a dislocated
shoulder. How did I get myself in these fixes?

The floor I’d landed on didn’t look like
one occupied by patients. The hall had stretched long and lonely.
Maybe a surgical ward?
Even then, there were bound to be
people. Someone would hear me cry for help.

“She’s got to be close,” Darla said from
the other side of the door. “No one can move fast in a cast.”

“Just leave her be and let’s skip town.”
Danny sighed. “We can go to Mexico or Canada and start over.”

“You’ve already said that. We can’t go until
all the loose ends are tied up.”

Something thumped on the other side of
the door.

“I still don’t understand why you had me
kill those women.”

Oh, I should be recording this. I fumbled
in my pocket for my phone, knocking over a broom. Freezing, I held my phone in
my hand and held my breath.

“Did you hear that?” Darla lowered her
voice. “I told you it was to teach people a lesson. Just because someone is
old, doesn’t mean they should be ignored.”

“Still sounds like a stupid—”

My foot slipped, kicking over a pail. The
clatter filled the small space.

A boom echoed, then the door flew open.
Darla grabbed my good arm, hauling me to my feet. “You must be the stupidest
person I’ve ever met. What’s wrong with your arm?”

“I—”

Footsteps pounded from around the corner.
Darla shoved me. “Get moving. We need you for leverage now. That stupid cop
just arrived.”

“Bruce!” I tried to hang back, but a
knock on the back of the head with a gun got me moving again.

“Marsha.” Duane raced down the hall, only
to skid to a halt when he saw Darla and Danny’s guns.

“Where do you think you can go?” Bruce
asked. “Marsha is injured, the hospital is surrounded, and your son doesn’t
look happy to be here.”

“Get it together, Danny.” Darla held the
gun to my head. “I’ve taught you to be tougher than this.”

My legs threatened to give way. My gaze
locked with Duane’s. This was way worse than the car wreck in the last murder
I’d gotten messed up in. That one took out the suspect. This one might be the
end of me.

Keeping my eyes on Duane’s pale face, I
allowed the two killers to scoot me past my future husband and into the
elevator. Once we made it to the parking lot, and past the one other cop that
patrolled River Valley, Darla motioned for me to get into the passenger side of
an older model Volvo.

“No.” I stood as straight and rigid as
possible. “You can shoot me right here. I am not getting into a car with you so
you can dump my body in a vacant field somewhere. Either shoot me now, or leave
me alone.”

Danny set his gun on the roof of the car
and stepped back. “I’m done. I’ve been your puppet for too long, Mother. I
won’t be a part of any more killing. He put his hands on top of his head and walked
back toward the hospital.

I grinned. “Now what, Darla? You’ve
allowed the guilt over your mother’s death to poison every relationship you’ve
ever had. Maybe you can actually form a nice one in prison. I’ve heard there
are a lot of lonely people behind bars.”

“Shut up.” She chewed her bottom lip.
“I’m trying to think.”

While she did, I shuffled sideways in an
attempt to get closer to Danny’s gun. Darla seemed riveted on the view of her
son being handcuffed. At least I hoped so.
God,
don’t let me fail
.

“Look what you’ve done to Danny. Poor
misguided boy. He only loved you so much he killed for you. Now what? Are you
going to allow him to watch you get shot?”
Almost there.
“At least he came to his senses.”

“Shut up.” She never looked back.

I grabbed the gun with my good hand,
lunged forward, conked her on the back of the head, and slid down the car to
the hard pavement. Seconds later, I found myself wrapped in Duane’s arms, while
paramedics raced to our side.

Darla stirred when Bruce twisted her
hands behind her back. “Want me to
taze
her, Marsha?”

“Tempting, but no. If I felt better, I’d
taze
her myself.”

Duane helped me to my feet, taking care
of my shoulder. Every jar sent flames of fire down my arm.

“Duane?”

“Yes, my love.” He lifted me as if I
weighed no more than a child.

I rested my head on his shoulder. “How
does June tenth sound for a wedding?”

“That’s our one year anniversary. It
sounds perfect.”

“Then kiss me.”

He lowered his head and helped me forget
about the pain.

 

THE END

 
 
 

Check Out the first book
in the River Valley Mystery series

 

Deadly Neighbors

 

And the other books by
Cynthia Hickey available at

 

www.cynthiahickey.com

 

Find her on FB
Cynthia Hickey

 

And on twitter
@
cynthiahickey

 
 

About
Spyglass Lane

Spyglass Lane Mysteries is a
collection of Christian cozy mysteries—modern-day
whodunnits
with colorful characters and plenty of wholesome romance.

 

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other Spyglass Lane titles at
Smashwords.com
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