Hidden Motive (17 page)

“G
otcha!”

Loud laughter echoed through the room. Sable jerked around to find Bryce shaking his hands over his head in a victorious wave. “Two out of three, Audry. You'd better start brushing up on your vocabulary.”

Audry pushed her chair back from the table. “I think you need to get Perry over here, you cocky little—”

Murph rushed in through the family room door, his expression grim. He looked at Sable.

Everyone fell silent.

“Well?” Perry asked.

Murph paused for breath. “I found Jerri.”

“What do you mean you
found
her?” Audry asked softly.

“She's upstairs in the attic.” Again, his eyes sought Sable's. “She's dead.”

Shocked silence rocked the room, and with that silence crept the specter of death—and dread that it might suddenly have become contagious.

Sable knew too well about that contagion.

“When was she last seen?” Audry asked.

“I saw her go downstairs to stoke the fire,” Perry said. “Murph…how did it happen?”

“Wait a minute,” Murph said. “Before we discuss this, Craig, you need to put whatever chains or studded tires or whatever you can find onto that Jeep. We've got to get out of here.
Now.
”

“And get ourselves killed in the process?” Perry exclaimed. “That road isn't any less dangerous now than it was when we arrived here, when we couldn't even walk on it, much less drive.”

“What killed her?” Sable asked Murph. “I need to go see—”

Murph stopped her at the threshold. “Not yet. There's a bullet hole in her head.”

“A bullet!” Audry cried. “Oh, no.” She raised her hand to her face. Her eyes closed, and she swayed. “No. This can't be happening.”

Sable grabbed Audry by the arm and eased her down into the nearest chair.

“Someone shot her?” Bryce asked. “But we didn't hear any—”

“I agree with Murph,” Craig said. “We need to get out of here. I can scrounge up some chains in the garage to fit my Jeep. I'll warn you, though, the tires will still slide on the thick ice out there. We'll have to take the back road that's less steep. That bridge still needs some deicing. I think chopping at it should be our first job.”

Audry covered her face with her hands. “Oh, poor Jerri. I can't believe this is happening.” Her shoulders shook.

“Are you sure she's dead?” Bryce asked Murph.

“I'm sure,” Murph said.

Simmons stood up from his chair. “How do we know we can trust what you say, Murph?”

“How long has she been dead?” Bryce asked. “When did it—”

“We're all gonna die right here in this house,” Audry moaned.

“We've got to not panic, to slow down and think rationally.” Murph snapped, “Craig, get the chains on your Jeep.”

“I need to chop the ice on the bridge.”

“I can help you with both,” Murph said.

“We all can help,” Bryce said.

“You're not serious about leaving tonight, are you?” Perry exclaimed.

“Why do you want us to stay?” Simmons said scornfully, glowering at the chubby man. “What good's it gonna do you if we all die here?”

“That won't happen if we can help it,” Murph said. “We're going to get out of here.”

 

Murph was loath to leave Jerri's body lying alone in the cold attic, but there was no choice. The scene of the crime had to remain intact, and the group needed to get out and call for help.

He only prayed no one else would be injured before they could escape.

Murph wasn't a policeman; he didn't know the correct procedure, wasn't sure what to do next—but then, he doubted many people in this same situation would be prepared.

“Craig, you're the best on ice, I think,” he said. “We need you to take the pickax out and start on that bridge.”

“I've been working on that some already,” Craig said.

“Good. We'll bring out some coals from the furnace to help melt the ice, too.”

“How do you know you can trust Craig?” Simmons demanded. “We let him out of our sight, he could—”

“You and I will go with him,” Murph said.

“Fine, then we'll take the coals with us as we go.”

“What about me?” Bryce asked. “I can help, too.”

“You can stay here with Perry and the women.” Simmons grabbed his jacket from a hook by the back door. “I want out of here.”

“Right,” Craig said. “The axes are on the front porch. Find another flashlight and watch your footing. It'll be treacherous out there.”

Craig opened the back door and stepped onto the patio. Simmons filled a bucket with ashes from the fireplace, and followed him.

Murph leaned close to Sable, brushed her hair back and whispered in her ear. “Get the .22 pistol out of the hunting closet. Take care of yourself. Remember what you said to me down in the cave yesterday?”

“I said lots of things.”

“You said you didn't think you could stand it if anything happened to me.” He lowered his lips to hers in a brief, gentle kiss. “Be careful. Don't let anything happen to you, because I honestly can't see myself without you. The moon is bright. Keep watch out the family room window, and if you see anything go wrong, get the others out of this house.” He opened the door and stepped out into the cold stillness.

As soon as he disappeared into the night, Sable raced up the stairs. Loading the pistol she'd used so many times for target practice, she couldn't help wondering about the questions Murph had asked her earlier: Would she be able to bring herself to shoot someone? Could she take a human life? And if not, would someone she loved die because of it?

 

The moon glared from a star-studded sky, and the brightness was helpful. A cold wind blew a feathery cloud across the moon. Murph turned to gaze back through the leafless branches at the silent house. He didn't see Sable watching from the door, but then the curtain lifted at the long window of the family room, and her shadow-silhouette appeared. Reluctantly, he began walking beside Simmons.

Before he reached the bridge, he heard a familiar thunk, the stroke of an ax breaking ice. Moonlight outlined Craig laboring at the far end of the bridge.

“Could you use some help?” Murph called.

“Grab the pickax,” Craig said without breaking his rhythm. “It's chipping away pretty well. Got those ashes, Simmons?”

“Right here,” Simmons said. Instead of carrying the bucket across the bridge, he set it down beside him, then stepped around Murph.

“There's a gravel pile near the house, where Josiah was going to put in a driveway but never got around to it,” Craig said. “We can use that for traction on any rough spots.”

“There aren't going to be any rough spots for you two.”

Murph frowned, turned and found himself staring down a gleaming gun barrel.

Craig's ax stilled.

“You shot her,” Murph said.

Simmons smiled. “Is that really what you think?” His teeth looked wicked in the moonlight.

Murph didn't move, didn't reply.

“You two are working together, aren't you?” Simmons said. “You and Craig. I should've picked up on that yesterday when you went traipsing off into the cave together. You're covering each other.”

Murph continued watching the barrel of the gun, as if it were a snake ready to strike. “What are you talking about?”

“I know what you're up to. You think you're going to have me all trussed up for the police. Who better to blame? The kid? Oh, yeah, he's scary. Or maybe it's the old lady, or the fat clown who can't even step out on the front porch without busting his face.”

“Don't underestimate people,” Murph said. “Where did you get the gun?”

“That isn't your business, is it?”

“You carry a gun to your mother's deathbed?”

There was a whisper of sound behind Murph, and Simmons redirected his aim. His shadowed face revealed little in the dim light of the moon. Unfortunately, his back was to the house, and Murph knew that even if Sable could see them, she couldn't tell what was happening.

“Don't come any closer,” Simmons told Murph, “or your buddy's going to join Jerri in the grave.”

“What are you
doing
with that thing?” Craig exclaimed.

Murph reached for his own weapon beneath his shirt, but Simmons brought his gun barrel hard against the side of Murph's head.

He struck again, and Murph sank to his knees as the night around him grew darker. He heard gunfire.

Then the blackness was complete.

“M
urph's been shot!” Sable turned from the window and raced toward the back door.

Audry, Perry and Bryce joined her.

“What happened?” Audry pulled back the curtain over the door's central window.

Sable couldn't see much in the darkness, but she did see Simmons standing over Murph. Craig was on his side near the water's edge.

“Could be Simmons got both of them!” Audry exclaimed.

“I heard only one shot,” Sable said.

“You know what this means, don't you?” Perry said. “Simmons is our guy.”

“I never did like his attitude,” Audry said.

“Murph and Craig need help,” Sable said. “But you three need to get to safety.”

“We're not leaving you here alone to face that goon,” Perry said. “I heard you and Craig talk a lot about hunting, and that
was
venison I cooked that nobody ate tonight. There must be weapons somewhere in this house.”

Sable considered the hunting closet, but she had no idea how familiar the others were with firearms. “How do you feel about a little cave exploration?” she asked.

“We can't leave Murph and Craig out there!” Audry exclaimed.

“I don't plan to, but the longer we stay here, the more opportunity Simmons has to hold us hostage. Bryce has had a tour of the cave system, and he might know another way out.” She turned to Bryce. “Remember the breakdown cavern we went through this morning?”

The boy nodded. “I can find it.”

“Good,” Sable said. “I believe that gives us the advantage. Craig found a sinkhole there. It'll be our way out.”

“There's a rope on the basement landing,” Perry said, “and some flashlights.”

“We'd better get a move on.” Audry nudged Sable back down the hall. “Simmons could come back in here any second.”

“I'm not going down yet,” Sable said.

“Are you nuts?” Perry exclaimed. “Of course you're coming with us. Do you think Jerri's killer would hesitate to shoot you? Come on, Sable.”

“I'll catch up with you.”

“What are you going to do?” Perry asked.

“Take some precautions. Perry, take one of those garden spades with you. We may need to tunnel out. If I'm not down in five minutes, Bryce, take Perry and Audry on to the breakdown cavern. You can all hide in the rocks. It's a big room.”

“I don't like this one bit,” Audry said.

“I'll find you—promise.” Sable nudged the group toward the basement door. “Now, go. Hurry.”

“We'll be okay, Audry,” Bryce assured the older woman. “Are you afraid of caves?”

“No, I'm afraid of killers.”

As the others descended the basement steps, Sable ran up to the sewing room on the second floor. She checked the window, found it unlocked, shoved it open. If they needed an alternate entrance into the house later, this might provide one.

She was on her own.

 

Tentacles of fire shot across Murph's face and skull. He reached up and touched his injured jaw, tested the movement in his extremities and found nothing wrong, though his head shrieked with agony when he tried to sit up.

Someone kicked his left shoulder.

“Trying to make a run for it, Murphy?” Simmons mocked, leering down at him. “Want an extra hole in the head?”

Murph glared at the man's blurred, inverted image.

“Get up.” Simmons shoved him again. “I'm not dragging you all the way to the house.”

Murph glanced quickly around. From the corner of his eye, Murph saw Craig's prone body on a shadowy corner of the bridge.

He remembered the sound of a gunshot.

“Let's go,” Simmons growled.

Murph climbed slowly to his feet, studying the gun in Simmons's hand. He prayed that Sable and the others had retreated to safety.

Lord, please don't let Sable try any heroics tonight. And please give me wisdom. Fast!

He paused and turned again to look at Craig's fallen body. “Aren't you even going to see if he's still alive?”

“I got him dead-on in the chest, and I'll do you the same favor if you don't get moving.”

Oh, God, no! Not Craig.
Murph had stared death in the face many times, but he'd never grown accustomed to it. This nightmare continued to spiral further out of control.

Simmons shoved him roughly. “I said get to the house!”

Murph turned away, but at the last second he thought he saw Craig's arm move. He looked toward the house and managed a step on the ice, then another.
Lord, please let him still be alive. Help me to get back to him.

“Move!” Simmons shoved Murph with his free hand.

Murph continued unsteadily, praying for Craig, praying for Sable's safety, praying that the house would be empty when he and Simmons reached the back door.

“How does it feel to terrorize the same people who saved your life so recently?” Murph asked.

No answer.

“Doesn't it bother you? I mean, wondering what would have happened to you if Audry hadn't dragged you from the creek? If Sable and I hadn't performed CPR on you?”

“Shut up, or you'll find out it doesn't bother me to put a bullet in the back of your head.”

Murph fell silent, but at the back door, he turned and faced Simmons, and once more found himself staring at the barrel of a gun—except this time he recognized the shape of his own Detonics in the glow of moonlight. It was a small six-shot semiautomatic pistol, and it looked like a toy in Simmons's beefy hand.

“One wrong move,” Simmons said quietly, “and you're dead.”

“And if we go inside, someone else will die. You'll just have to shoot me here.”

Simmons kicked the door open with his right foot. It slammed against the inside wall with a crash of glass, inciting frantic barking from the depths of the house.

“Get inside!” Simmons shoved Murph forward.

Dillon came charging down the hallway.

“No, Dillon, stay!” Murph commanded the German shepherd.

The dog stopped in front of the open kitchen door, his hackles stiff, fangs bared in a snarl.

“Back, Dillon,” Murph ordered.

Still growling, the dog backed into the kitchen.

Murph stepped inside, moving as slowly as he felt he could without provoking Simmons. He peered down the hallway. At first glance, the place seemed deserted, and he felt a wash of relief. Maybe everyone was safely out of the way.

Simmons followed Murph into the house, prodding him with the nose of the pistol. “Get into the living room.”

Murph made his way there with Simmons following. Dillon continued to growl and back up as the two men advanced. As they stepped into the living room, Simmons took a wary glance at the basement door, which stood ajar, then motioned with the pistol for Murph to sit on the couch.

“Looks like your girlfriend left you to face the music alone,” Simmons sneered. “That's fine with me. I bet she's told you everything I need to know.”

Murph remained silent. Dillon took up a protective stance at the base of the stairwell.

A floorboard creaked on the second floor and Simmons shot a quick glance up to the landing. “Sounds like we might have some company,” he said. “Back on your feet, Murphy. We're going on a little hunting trip.”

Murph stood up and took a step toward Simmons, who kept the Detonics aimed steadily at Murph's chest.

“Stop!” Sable called from the top of the stairs.

Simmons shifted his aim.

Murph threw his weight at the other man's arm, driving it against the mantel of the fireplace. The pistol flew from Simmons's hand, clattering onto the hearth.

Simmons was reaching for his own gun when a shot rang out from the upstairs landing. The bullet from Sable's .22 ricocheted off the stone face of the hearth.

As Murph rolled to his left, Simmons scrambled to his feet and dived for the basement door. Sable squeezed off a second shot, taking a chunk of wood from the door, where the man's head had been a moment before.

“Murph!” Sable called as she rushed down the stairs and into his arms. “You're alive!”

He drew her close for a few seconds, and then she pulled away and looked up at him. “Craig?”

“I don't know. I think I saw him move, but Simmons thinks he's dead. I didn't want him to finish the job.”

Murph listened at the basement. Had Simmons gone into the cave, or was he waiting just beyond the foot of the stairs?

“Murph, the others are in the cave,” Sable told him. “We've got to stop him.”