Between a Book and a Hard Place (22 page)

W
hen I got home from dinner, I asked my father if he could work at the dime store from twelve to closing the next day. He agreed, but I could tell he was curious. This past week, I'd asked him to switch shifts and been absent from the business more than at any other time since I'd hired him. Unwilling to make Dad an accessory to our actions, I told him that a bunch of my friends were getting together and I wanted to join them. Which was not exactly a lie, just not the whole truth.

The next morning, the store was unusually busy, and it wasn't until I overheard a man and a woman arguing about the best spot on the square to see the alien leader land that I remembered Khrelan Naze was supposed to arrive at noon with a gift for mankind.

By twelve, when my father hadn't arrived yet for his shift, I worried that something had happened to him. Had Chief Kincaid brought him into the station for more questioning? Or worse, found out that Dad had been at the crime scene and arrested him? If so, Mom and I were probably next on the chief's list.

To distract myself from the image of Dad, Mom, and me in adjoining jail cells, I pondered my encounter with Yvette and Jett's lawyer. What was it about
that guy that bothered me? There was something he'd said that had set off my BS meter.

I went over the conversation in my mind, and the discrepancy came to me just as Dad walked into the store. Miss Ophelia had told us that during Jett's visit with her, he had received a phone call from his attorney and left to meet him. Sebastian had claimed that he'd arrived in Shadow Bend only
after
my stepfather's death. Why had he lied about his whereabouts?

Before I could come up with an explanation, Dad hurried over to me and apologized for being delayed. Before agreeing to work at the store this afternoon, he had promised Gran that he'd drive her to the county seat to shop. They'd left the house early, but the checkout line in Walmart had been longer than they'd expected.

I assured my father that it was okay, then hurried out the back exit. In order to approach the library from the rear, I wound my way up the side streets. Boone had agreed to get to the building first so he could use his key to open the side door. Noah, Poppy, and I were to sneak inside one by one, making sure no one saw us.

As I trotted the last couple of blocks, I continued to think about Sebastian Hinds. There was something else about Jett's lawyer that was nagging at me.

Whatever was disturbing me about Hinds was on the tip of my tongue when I entered the alley between the library and the movie theater. I slowed, trying to retrieve the elusive notion, but before I could dredge the idea from my subconscious, I heard the crowd in the square chanting their
displeasure. Evidently, ET was running behind schedule and hadn't landed yet.

With one last glance behind me to make sure I wasn't being observed, I eased the metal door open a few inches, slipped inside, and quickly shut it behind me. Once again, the hallway was pitch-dark.

But this time I was prepared, and I unhooked the flashlight I had clipped to my belt. The pepper-spray gun Jake had made me promise to have at the ready was in my pocket. Switching on the Maglite, I looked around. The door to the storeroom to my right was closed, but I could see a faint illumination shining up the basement staircase.

It was twenty after twelve. The rest of the Scooby Gang must have already assembled and were waiting for me in the archives.

I hurried toward the steps, but just as I reached them, there was a loud uproar outside. I hesitated. What was happening? I'd better find out before I went into the basement. Once I was down there, I wouldn't be able to hear anything. And if the commotion near the library involved the police, we needed to abort our mission.

Turning around, I sprinted to the front of the building. From where I stood, I had a good view of the square and could see that the mob was growing restless waiting for the alien kingpin to arrive. The mayor stood on the bandstand, and the crowd was advancing. Hizzoner had a bullhorn, trying to sweet-talk the throng, asking them for their patience and suggesting they enjoy all the shops and restaurants that Shadow Bend had to offer while they waited.

Careful to keep out of sight, I edged away from the window. As I walked back to the staircase, I wondered why Professor Hinkley wasn't the one speaking to the crowd. Which was when it hit me.

Sebastian Hinds had seemed familiar because he was the image of Professor Hinkley. Take away the picket-fence teeth, Albert Einstein hairdo, and Mr. Magoo glasses, and the two guys could be twins.

Or, the same man—one wearing theatrical makeup in one persona and unembellished in the other.

But why would he put on a disguise and pretend to be someone else?

I answered myself. Because he was neither a professor nor a lawyer. He was Jett's partner. My stepfather wouldn't have wanted to admit to Miss Ophelia that he had a partner, which smacked of commerce rather than scholarly research, so he said that his attorney had called and he needed to meet with him. And Hinds or Hinkley or whoever he was had used that same lawyer role on my mother.

With that piece of the puzzle in place, I realized that the story Mrs. St. Onge had told me about evil space invaders taking over Earth children and being saved by the good extraterrestrials was the plot of
Falling Skies
, a television show my dad liked on TNT.

I leaned against the wall. It was all becoming clear to me. If the professor was a fake and had been working with Jett, the whole creatures-from-outer-space routine had probably been a distraction. The UFO story had been Hinkley's way to stir up the town and divert their attention from what he and Jett were doing. Being an alien hunter gave Hinkley the perfect excuse to poke around and trespass.

Major Boone and Colonel Underwood had both lived in town. Digging a hole in their lawns would have caused a lot more talk than Captain Sinclair burying something in his fields. No wonder Hinkley wanted to be on the Del Vecchio property so badly. Tony had bought most of the Sinclair acreage, and where better to search for the treasure than on the land of the one officer most likely to have hidden it?

The only remaining question was whether Hinkley had killed Jett. Had my stepfather found the treasure and refused to share it with his partner or vice versa? Had the two con men fought over the cache? Maybe if we located the treasure the colonel had written about in his diary, we'd have our answer.

Excited to have figured out so much of the mystery, I dashed down the stairs. But as I entered the dimly lit room separating me from the archives, I heard the sounds of a scuffle and froze.

Before I could move, a voice inside the archive room yelled, “Bitch, you have one minute to tell me what I want to know or I'll shoot you!”

I didn't have to wonder who was speaking or to whom. It had to be Hinkley screaming at Poppy. Undoubtedly, like the Scooby Gang, he'd been waiting for the police to take the crime scene tape down from the library, too. He must have come in after my friends arrived and surprised them.

Inside my head Jake's voice was telling me to leave, to get the police, but I ignored it. What if Hinkley went through with his threat and killed Poppy before the cops got here? I'd never forgive myself.

I couldn't risk the professor overhearing a call, so I texted Chief Kincaid and copied Jake. Praying that one of the men would see my message and be
nearby, I gave my location and said that Poppy, Boone, and Noah were being held at gunpoint. Then, making sure my phone was on vibrate, I set it to record, put it in my bra, and crept toward the archives. I was relieved to see that the door was slightly ajar, which meant it wasn't locked.

I peered into the gap between the hinged side of the door and the frame. Noah and Boone were seated back-to-back on two wooden chairs. They were duct-taped together at the ankles, chest, and wrists. Hinkley stood near the back wall with a gun pressed to Poppy's head.

Even though it was cool in the basement, Hinkley was sweating. He mopped his brow with his left arm and said, “You all wouldn't be here if you hadn't figured out that damn code, so quit telling me you don't know where the gold is hidden.”

“All we know is that one passage in the colonel's diary seems to indicate that the library is the key,” Poppy said.

“Then why did I find you down here?” Hinkley ran his fingers through his hair and sneered, “Unless you want to end up like my late two-timing partner, you better tell me what you know.”

“What we know is that you killed Jett Benedict,” Poppy snapped.

“You may be aware of that, but no one else is.” Hinkley's finger stroked the gun's trigger. “If you tell me where the treasure is, I'll leave town and someone will eventually find you down here alive and well.” He narrowed his eyes. “I'm going to count to three, and if no one tells me what I want to know, I'm going to spray this bimbo's brains against the wall.”

I felt as if I couldn't breathe. I had to save Poppy.
Hoping that the hinges wouldn't squeak, I grabbed my pepper-spray gun from my pocket and eased the door open wide enough for me to slip through. Once again the dim bulb hanging from the ceiling was the only light, and I edged inside, keeping in the shadows.

Hinkley's attention was riveted on Poppy, and I tried to figure out how I would get within firing range without him noticing me. Exactly how far would the pepper-spray gun shoot? And how accurate did my aim have to be?

Unfortunately, my ability to estimate distances was about on par with my ability to sing. And let's just say that I wasn't allowed at Poppy's bar for karaoke night.

While I was trying to decide how close I had to get to Hinkley, he said, “One.”

“I swear,” Poppy pleaded. “We don't know.”

With no real plan, I scoured the room for inspiration. Hinkley's walking stick was lying abandoned near where Boone and Noah were bound to their chairs. He must have put it down when he was taping them up. Unless it was just a prop for his Hinkley character, he'd be unsteady on his feet. Perhaps a weakness I could use to my advantage.

As I stared at the cane, I realized it was the murder weapon. The glass ball on the handle was the exact size and shape of the indentation I'd seen in Jett's head. Certainly, there would be DNA evidence where the globe was connected to the wooden staff. Now I just had to get us all out of here alive so we could hand over the walking stick to Chief Kincaid's crime scene techs.

“Then I guess you all die,” Hinkley sneered, bringing my gaze back to him. “The three of you are
as stupid as Benedict. He thought he could keep all the gold for himself.”

“So the treasure is gold?” Boone asked.

Hinkley turned his attention from Poppy and was staring at Noah and Boone with a hungry expression on his face as he said, “Twenty-six fifty-pound gold bars worth a cool twenty million.”

“But if Jett found it and wouldn't share, why do you need us to tell you where it's at?” Noah's question kept Hinkley's attention on him and away from Poppy.

I watched as Poppy eased a few inches from Hinkley. She was giving herself some space to maneuver. I knew she'd practiced mixed martial arts for years, but would her skills work against an armed man?

Hinkley's mirthless chuckle was like a seal bark. “Benedict showed me one of the gold bars and bragged that I'd never find the rest. He laughed at me for thinking it was buried and said it was under our noses all along. He gave me the bar and said that was my share. That he was keeping the other twenty-five.”

“But how—”

“Two.” Hinkley cut off Noah's question. “Where. Is. My. Treasure?”

“We have no idea.” Boone shook his head. “We'd give it to you if we could. Not all of us are money-grubbing thieves.”

“Enough.” Hinkley waved the gun at Boone and Noah.

Poppy, evidently seeing her opportunity, raised her leg and, in a move too fast for me to follow, swept Hinkley off his feet. Knowing this was my cue, I rushed forward and aimed my pepper-spray gun at
Hinkley's face. Pulling the trigger, I held it down until the weapon was empty.

Hinkley was screaming and clawing at his eyes, but he still clutched his pistol.

Poppy stepped on his hand and said in a conversational tone, “Let go of the gun, or I'll break your wrist.”

I held my breath. Was Hinkley going to cooperate?

When he didn't immediately release his weapon, Poppy said, “I love hearing the sound of bones grinding together as they crack.”

Hinkley's shocked expression was almost funny, but I wasn't laughing. Even if the guy couldn't see, he could still fire his weapon and hurt someone.

I caught a glimmer of a movement out of the corner of my eye and saw that Noah had somehow broken free of the duct tape. As he stood up, the chair rattled and Hinkley's head whipped toward the noise. At that moment, I lunged forward and wrested the gun from his hand.

While Poppy called the police, Noah and I shoved Hinkley facedown on the floor, and using the same roll of duct tape he'd used to bind Noah and Boone, we trussed him up like a Thanksgiving Day turkey ready for the oven. Once he was secured, I rushed across the room and freed Boone. Then we all stared as Jett's killer sobbed like a six-year-old.

•   •   •

An officer had already taken Hinkley to the police station, where he would be charged with murder,
among other lesser crimes, and we were now being read the riot act by Chief Kincaid.

While he went on and on about why we should have brought our suspicions to him rather than investigate on our own, I felt my cell vibrate and slipped it out of my pocket. It was Jake, and I stepped away from the chief and my friends to answer.

Huddled near the rear wall with my back to Chief Kincaid and the others, I assured Jake that we were all fine and the murderer had been caught. He explained that when I texted, he'd been in the doctor's office, so he had just seen my message. He was on his way back to the ranch and he would call me when he was in the area.