Eggs in a Casket (A Cackleberry Club Mystery) (25 page)

“Where’d he go?” asked Suzanne. This was not what she wanted to hear.

“We received an emergency call from a very panic-stricken woman,” said Esther. “Apparently there’s been a three-car smashup out on County Road 28, right near that old church. Five people injured, some of them little kids. Anyway, you know Sam. When he heard there were kids, he grabbed his bag and took off like a jackrabbit.”

“They called the clinic directly? Not 911 to get an ambulance?”

“Couldn’t get through I guess,” said Esther. “Some cell phones aren’t working and the lines are down all over town. I suppose even at the Law Enforcement Center. Poor Molly must be going crazy!”

“But some of the nurses are still there? Still at the clinic?”

“Sure are,” said Esther. “So if you can get your injured folks over here we’re open for business. I bet there’ll be a lot more injuries coming in, too.”

“We’ll be there,” said Suzanne. She hung up abruptly and turned to face a dozen inquiring faces. “Anybody who’s cut or injured, we’re going to drive you to the clinic,” she announced.

“Uh . . . I don’t think so,” said Toni. She grabbed a wildly flapping curtain and pulled it aside as she peered out the broken window. “There are trees down all over the place. On top of cars, even blocking our driveway.”

A few of the customers crowded around the window with Toni. It was, indeed, complete chaos outside. As if an enormous game of pick-up sticks had been played out in their parking lot.

“Probably straight line winds,” said Petra, surveying the damage. “Looks pretty bad.”

“And the wind’s still whipping like crazy, blowing debris all over the place!” exclaimed Toni.

“What if there’s another tornado?” someone cried out.

“My car’s parked in back,” said Suzanne, trying to remain calm. “We can get out that way.”

“Go check,” urged Petra.

But when Suzanne hurried through the kitchen and looked out the back door, her heart sank. A huge tree branch had been sheared off from the giant oak that stood in the backyard. While it hadn’t damaged Suzanne’s car, it was definitely blocking the driveway.

“Wow,” said Toni, who’d followed her in. “I guess we’re stuck here for a while.”

Suzanne and Toni went back into the café to break the bad news.

“Looks like we’re stuck here for a little while longer,” Suzanne told everyone. “Until we can move some of these downed trees.”

“I’m gonna try to call Junior at the garage,” said Toni. “See if he can get some guys over here with chainsaws and pickup trucks.”

“Good thinking,” said Petra. She smiled at Sonja, who now had a red bandana tied around her head. “How are you doing, hon?”

“Hanging in there,” said Sonja.

But Suzanne was pacing back and forth, still fretting. The storm and injuries had set her on edge . . . as well as Sam just taking off like that.

Petra pulled her aside. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

Suzanne chewed her bottom lip. “Just . . . I don’t know. Call it a low-level vibe. A worry vibe.”

“About . . . ?”

“Sam,” said Suzanne, finally vocalizing her nervousness. “I’m worried about Sam.”

“You shouldn’t be,” said Petra soothingly. “Didn’t you say he was out tending to the injured?” She glanced about and let loose a sigh. “Lord knows, we sure could use him here.”

Toni saw Suzanne’s consternation, too. “Did you try his cell phone?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Give him a buzz,” she urged. “If you can get through to him, maybe it’ll set your mind at ease.”

Suzanne grabbed one of the tea lights and walked into the Book Nook. She pulled her phone from her hip pocket and hit Sam’s number. No answer. She waited a minute and tried again. Still no answer. Suzanne stood there, staring dejectedly at her phone. When she heard soft footsteps behind her, she whirled around.

It was Toni. “Did you get hold of him?”

Suzanne shook her head. “No, but I guess I really didn’t expect to. Esther said a lot of phones were out all over town. Even some cell phones. It was a miracle I got through to her.”

“You think the phones are out at the Law Enforcement Center?” asked Toni.

“Sure,” said Suzanne. “I suppose so.” She stood there for a moment, considering this. Then she quickly dialed Doogie’s direct line.

A man’s voice answered immediately. “Law Enforcement Center.”

“You’ve got phone service,” said Suzanne, surprised.

“For now anyway,” said the man.

“What about at the 911 call center?” she asked. “Is it working? Are people getting through?”

“They are as far as I know.”

“Okay, thank you,” said Suzanne.

They walked back into the café.

“Did you get hold of Sam?” asked Petra.

Suzanne shook her head.

“Where’d you say that accident was?” said Toni.

“Um . . . County Road 28,” said Suzanne. “Near that old church.”

“Huh,” said Toni. “As the crow flies, that’s like ten minutes from here.” She gave Suzanne a reassuring smile, but it faded as soon as she saw the look of consternation on her friend’s face. “Hey, you’re looking a little jittery.
You
didn’t get conked on the head, did you?”

Suzanne wasn’t injured, but her mind was suddenly spinning out a strange scenario, a dark and evil scenario. First Lester Drummond had been put out of commission. Then Sheriff Doogie was laid low. And now . . . Sam had been called out? Boom, boom, boom. One, two, three? It couldn’t be, could it?

Grabbing Toni by both shoulders, Suzanne said, “You stay here, try to get Junior working on those chainsaws, and keep everybody calm.”

Toni’s eyes went wide. “What are you talking about? Suzanne, hang on a minute! Are you
going
somewhere?”

“I’m going out,” said Suzanne. With every passing second her nerves were strumming wildly and she was filled with an ice-cold fear.

“Outside?” Toni stammered.

“Out to check on Sam,” said Suzanne.

Toni’s face went completely blank. “Check on Sam?” she choked out. “With our cars out of commission, how are you gonna do that?”

Suzanne was already halfway out the door as she hollered back, “How else? Pony express!”

AS
Suzanne scrambled down the back steps, the wind caught her broadside and practically spun her around. Rain slashed painfully at her face and she was instantly drenched from head to toe. Still, Suzanne tore through the driving rain, skittering across the hardpan backyard that had suddenly become a sea of turgid mud. She ducked into the back strip of woods on her property, ignoring the branches that tore at her clothes, and ran out into a field of planted corn.

Clouds roiled overhead, lightning crackled, and thunder played a set of dark and ominous timpani drums.

Am I going to be struck by lightning?
Suzanne wondered.
Am I going to
keel over from all this stress?

Still she pushed on. Running, sometimes stumbling, through the field, heading for the barn where Mocha and Grommet were stabled. Though the going was terrible and clods of mud kept building up on the soles of her shoes, Suzanne fought to remain close to the hard-packed line of earth that, in drier weather, served as a sort of road for farm vehicles.

Her breathing grew more and more labored as she ran. But she was definitely making forward progress and drawing ever closer to the farm, ignoring, as best she could, the sharp stitch of pain in her side. Because this was certainly no gentle jog around the park with an aging dog—this was a full-out race through a dangerous storm!

Finally, with a harsh gasp, Suzanne threw herself up against the rough wood of the barn and quickly muscled open the barn door. Ducking inside the shelter suddenly came as a huge relief! No more wind whipping her hair, no driving rain to make her eyes blink and her nose run.

Suzanne took a couple of minutes to dry off, then located an old riding helmet from a cubby on the back wall. She plopped the helmet on her head, grabbed her tack, and had Mocha saddled and ready to go in about two minutes flat. All the while, she talked calmly to Mocha. “It’s okay, boy. We’re going for a ride. I know we can do this, you and me!”

Giving a final tug on the cinch, Suzanne jumped on Mocha’s back and rode him out of the barn, his hoofbeats ringing sharply against the cement. She took a deep breath, ducked her head through the doorway, and was, once again, back outside—heading into the teeth of the storm!

Mocha shook his great head in protest, spooked by the wind and rain, but Suzanne dug her heels into his flanks and they were suddenly off.

Suzanne knew it was maybe a fifteen-minute cross-country ride from the farm to the old church that served as a sort of landmark. That was where Sam was supposed to be, tending to the injured. So that was where she was headed. And, hopefully, when she arrived, she’d find that everything—especially Sam—was just fine.

Mocha was a big, powerful quarter horse. Which made for an easy gallop across a newly seeded field of soybeans. Suzanne could feel his powerful haunches bunching beneath her, driving hard, kicking up clods of earth. Within minutes they reached the edge of the nearby woods.

This is the best way to go, she told herself. Cut through the woods, come out by that old church, and follow along the highway.

She spurred Mocha forward and headed into the woods. And found some blessed relief from the storm. The denseness of trees slowed the wind’s terrible onslaught, while the canopy of leaves afforded her a little extra shelter from the rain. But the woods were tough going, too. There were fallen trees to negotiate, rocks to angle around, and stands of buckthorn that scratched and tore at their legs. Mocha kept pushing ahead, reading her familiar signals, carefully sidestepping obstacles.

Ten minutes into the woods, Suzanne worried that she might be turned around. The scenery all looked the same. Trees, thick underbrush, hills, and occasional ravines.

Where am I? Where’s the old church? That would mark my way, wouldn’t it?
Only if I could find it!

Suzanne and Mocha splashed across a shallow, rock-strewn creek, kicking up mud and debris.

This way? I hope it’s this way.

They plunged farther into the woods, passing through groves of sumac, the tiny red berries just beginning to form among the thick green leaves.

But where is that deserted church?

Branches whipsawed back and forth, beating at them ferociously. The wind had picked up again. In fact, it felt as if another tornado might be barreling down upon them!

Loosening the reins a little, Suzanne allowed Mocha to pick his way, slowly now, down a narrow twisted and turning path.

Maybe this is a bad idea
, Suzanne thought to herself.
Maybe I should
just turn around and forget . . .

A dark, stone pillar, half obliterated by trees, loomed directly ahead of her.

What?

She gave Mocha a little kick and he instantly picked up the pace. As they drew closer, Suzanne saw that it was a stone statue. A statue of a man gazing up toward the heavens, both arms upraised.

Oh my—and there are more statues, too. I think I know what this is.

Though they were battered and broken, Suzanne understood that she’d stumbled upon an abandoned section of the church’s stations of the cross. So the old church had to be close by!

They made their way slowly now, and Suzanne saw rounded stone tablets peeking out of the tops of bushes.

Gravestones.

Which meant the old church was
very
close by.

Soon, wet, soggy ground yielded to harder earth and Suzanne urged Mocha into a slow canter. Then, in no time at all, they flashed past the old stone church, half tumbled down, its broken roof open to the punishing elements. And a few moments later, they popped out of the woods and onto a narrow road!

Reining Mocha in, taking care not to let him stumble and lose his footing on the rain-slicked blacktop, Suzanne glanced left, then right, through the driving rain.

And saw—nothing. No accident, no Sam.

But Esther said it was
near
the old church, she told herself. Not
at
it. So she had a decision to make. Turn left or turn right.

Suzanne thought for a minute. Left would take her back toward town, but right . . .

She reined right, jabbed Mocha with her heels, and sent him cantering along the side of the road. The wind was at her back now, so the cold wasn’t quite as piercing. And maybe, if she called out, Sam might be able to hear her?

“Sam!” Suzanne called as she cantered along. “Where are you, Sam?”

With the wind still howling, she worried that she wouldn’t be heard. Still, it didn’t hurt to try.

I don’t
care how crazed I sound
, she told herself.
I just want to find him!

She called out a few more times as the road curved this way and that. Still she saw . . . nothing.

Pulling back on the reins, Suzanne brought Mocha to a dead halt. And wondered again if she was being silly. Rushing out here in the middle of the storm because she’d had a crazy, weird hunch that something might be wrong?

I should go back
, she told herself.
Before my horse slips and we both
break our fool necks out here.

As she dipped her head, trying to decide what to do, she suddenly spotted a hint of blue up ahead through the thrashing trees!

That has to be
Sam’s BMW!

Feeling relieved and a little embarrassed now that she knew Sam was perfectly safe, she walked her horse toward the car.

As she drew closer, she saw that Sam’s BMW had been driven clean off the road. And directly behind it sat a red car. Strangely enough, both cars appeared to be empty and there wasn’t a person in sight!

Cautiously, Suzanne approached the two cars.

So where was the accident?
she wondered.
What was going on? Had an ambulance already arrived to haul away the injured?

That’s probably the exact scenario, she decided. And here she was, trying to charge in like the cavalry, when there was nothing left to do.

Okay, she’d simply circle the cars, make sure everything was cool, and then cut and run. Try to forget this ever happened. That she’d overreacted like some kind of paranoid cuckoo bird.

That was the precise moment lightning crackled overhead, and a photo-strobe flash illuminated a pair of legs sprawled on the pavement ahead.

What?

As well as someone leaning over them.

Suzanne’s heart suddenly lurched into the back of her throat.

Who’s hurt? Sam? What happened?

Then the proverbial lightbulb winked on in Suzanne’s head and she could think of only one terrible answer!

Tasered? Please don’t tell me Sam’s been Tasered!

That single word burst inside her brain like a thousand fragmented pieces.

She drew closer, hoping she was wrong, daring herself to look as she trotted past the red car.

And there, just up ahead, kneeling above Sam, holding a plastic bag over his face, was the slim form of Carla Reiker!

Suzanne didn’t stop to scream. She didn’t try to put two and two together because there simply wasn’t time. Instead, she dug her heels into Mocha’s flanks and sent her big horse into a wild, full-force gallop. Grasping the saddle with her right hand, she slapped the reins against his neck to drive him even harder. And like a medieval knight in a joust to the death, Suzanne charged directly at Carla Reiker.

Reiker didn’t see her coming until the very last second. Maybe she caught a quick flash of Suzanne on her galloping horse, or maybe she felt the thunder of Mocha’s hooves on the pavement. In any case, Reiker sprang to her feet like a scalded cat, her mouth grimacing in surprise.

Mocha’s broad shoulder sideswiped Reiker hard as he galloped past, spinning her around and knocking her flat to the ground. Reiker was momentarily stunned, but not three seconds later, she clambered to her feet. She stared in shocked bewilderment, caught in the act. And, when recognition finally dawned, when she saw it was Suzanne who sat astride the horse, she screamed out, “Yoooouuuu!”

Suzanne reined Mocha into a tight circle and charged again. But Reiker was smart, wily, and highly trained in combat. This time, as Suzanne skimmed past, Reiker managed to lean over and deliver a hard karate chop to Suzanne’s upper thigh.

The blow was dead-on and landed so hard Suzanne gasped in pain. Could she do this? she wondered. Could she fight against Reiker and win? No, she
had
to do this. Trying wasn’t an option. Facing off against this woman and winning was what she had to do! After all, Sam was lying out cold on the pavement, helpless, with a plastic bag stretched across half his face!

Once again, Suzanne spun Mocha around, ready to drive hard at Reiker. But this time Reiker was more than ready for her. She stood in the rain, her feet spread wide apart, and with a look of triumph on her angry, determined face, held up her hand and brandished her Taser! There was a hum and a nasty crackle as she turned it on.

Suzanne’s brain was in a whirl.
She’s going to use the Taser on Sam again? Or on me? Or on Mocha?

Feeling frantic now, Suzanne wondered just how many volts Mocha could absorb? How many volts could
she
absorb? And did she really have the guts to find out?

But Suzanne was determined to make a stand. There was no turning back now—the duel was on and there would only be one winner!

She guided Mocha down the narrow berm of the road, past Sam’s car, and around Reiker’s car. This was going to be it. She would regroup, make an all-out charge against Reiker, and take this crazy woman down once and for all!

Suzanne hunched forward like a jockey, knotting herself into what she hoped was a smaller target. Then she urged Mocha into a fast trot, ready to kick him into a full gallop.

And just as she flashed past Sam’s car, she saw his fishing rod, sticking partially out his back window. Quick as a snapping turtle, Suzanne reached out and grabbed the fly rod.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mocha saw Suzanne grab the whiplike rod and nervously crab-stepped hard to the left. But Suzanne was an experienced rider and quickly brought him back under control. “Easy, easy,” she told the big horse, trying to settle him down as she spun the rod around and got a firm grasp on its cork handle. She hunched forward in her saddle again, gritting her teeth, unaware she was making a hum like an angry hornet. She gave one mighty “Hyah!” and sent her horse flying.

Using the fishing rod as a whip, she descended upon Carla Reiker like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse!

The first stinging blow opened a jagged cut on Reiker’s cheek and drove her backward a good five feet. Stumbling, roaring in pain, the Taser suddenly flew from Reiker’s hand. It hit the blacktop, cracked open, and rolled harmlessly away.

Eyes filled with rage, Reiker touched a hand to her face to check the trickle of warm blood. Jerking her hand away, she gazed at the bloody smear and let out a bellow like a stuck pig.

Not wanting to ease up on her attack, Suzanne spun Mocha around and slashed at Reiker again. This time she opened a huge gash directly over Reiker’s left eye.

“Take that!” Suzanne cried as rivulets of blood coursed down Reiker’s face.

Screaming bloody murder, wiping frantically at her face, Reiker backpedaled like crazy. In doing so, she stumbled on the broken Taser, tripped, and began to topple over backward. Her arms whipped out to her sides making futile gestures while her feet paddled in the air. But nothing would save her. She was out of tricks! Reiker hit the pavement hard, her head striking it first and bouncing like a ripe cantaloupe. A low moan escaped Reiker’s lips and her hands curled into fists. Then, amazingly, thankfully, the maniac lay perfectly still!

Leaping from her horse, Suzanne flung herself down on the wet pavement. In one smooth and forceful motion she ripped the hunk of plastic off Sam’s face and threw it aside.

He was white as a sheet and barely breathing. Suzanne didn’t know if he’d been Tasered repeatedly or suffocated to the point of unconsciousness! But she knew she had to do something!