The dust began settling and still there was no sound, nor any movement from within the barn. Rhetta’s heart hammered against her rib cage. Why the heck hadn’t she gone with Ricky? She reminded herself it was because she needed to talk Mylene out of hurting anyone else. She sucked in a deep breath. I don’t want to do this. I need to leave. Or at least hide. What in God’s name was I thinking? This is a job for cops, not a banker. If I live through this, Ricky’s right. Randolph will kill me when he finds out.
Her hands began shaking and sweat poured off her forehead. She searched for an opening as she inched her way sideways down the length of the barn. She paused, took two deep breaths and centered herself as she focused on Adele instead of the giant fear ball that had invaded her stomach.
The barn’s sliding door that had been padlocked now stood open a foot. She stopped, back to the wall, listening. Not a sound emerged from inside the barn. If anyone was in there, they were so quiet, they may not have been breathing. Oh, God, I don’t want to find any more bodies. That thought made the ball rise to her throat. She swallowed and made a face. She didn’t want to spit out the bile it left for fear of being heard.
The dead can’t hear. Thinking that anybody else may be dead inside the barn made her stomach flip again. Turn around and leave and wait for Ricky to bring the cavalry. Before you throw up.
Too late. Rhetta’s stomach began heaving. She sucked in deep breaths, and gradually, the urge subsided. Her forehead flashed over with sweat as she inched along again. She found the door and slipped through it.
Inside the barn was dim, with the only light coming from what little sunlight filtered in through the slats of the wood boards. It wasn’t cool in here, like the first time she’d explored the barn. The air was close and smelled of chemicals. Probably from the forensic crew. Dust motes pirouetted in the sun’s rays.
Rhetta crouched behind a half wall that had once held a feed crib for cattle. She paused, listened, heard nothing. She maneuvered around the wall until she reached the back wall and, still crouching, followed it into the corner, where another half wall, with the crib intact, jutted perpendicularly. She glanced around and recognized the hand-made ladder that led upward to a three foot square cut into the loft. She sucked in a breath and scrambled into the loft. She toppled on to her back, panting.
That’s when she heard the voices.
Chapter 58
Rhetta listened as two women spoke calmly. She swore she heard a reference to the weather. What the heck? Mylene and Adele are here in the barn of death talking about the freakin’ weather? Wouldn’t it have been easier to meet at Starbucks? At least Starbucks has great coffee.
She flipped over onto her stomach, snatched bits of hay from her hair, spit out what she hoped wasn’t a spider web. She leaned and peered through the opening she’d just crawled through. She couldn’t see anyone. She stood, but immediately squatted when she spied three other similar square holes, fearing she might be seen by the women below. The openings were set above where each set of cribs were located. That was for hay tossed down during feeding time. Rhetta dropped to hands and knees and crawled slowly to the next opening. As she did, decades of accumulated dust swirled around her face. She gazed down. No one below. When a sneeze threatened, she buried her face in the crook of her arm and stifled it as best she could. Another one followed. Crap. Now isn’t the time for my allergies to flare up and give me away. When she felt the sneezing urge had subsided, she crawled to another opening.
When she craned forward this time, she drew back, sucking in a breath. Light glinted off the business end of a rifle.
Mylene is holding Adele at gunpoint! Then why were they talking in such calm voices? Rhetta strained to hear more. This time, she heard Adele laugh. What th—?
Rhetta didn’t complete her thought before Mylene’s voice rose clearly. “You’re a crazy old woman.”
What Rhetta heard didn’t compute. Just who was the crazy one in the barn? She answered herself. That would be me, for being here. She prayed Ricky had called the cops and that they were on their way.
The rifle barrel moved. Rhetta craned a bit more over the edge for a better view, but feared being seen from below. She couldn’t pinpoint either woman, only the rifle.
“I’m not your mother,” Adele said.
Rhetta rocked back. What?
A noise croaked upward from Adele, something between a laugh and a cry. “One night, way after midnight, your father, the bastard, brought you, his little baby bastard, home to me, swaddled up in a bundle of blankets. Said you survived but the mother didn’t. At first I didn’t understand. I wanted to call the police if there was an accident somewhere. He looked me straight in the eye. ‘No accident,’ he says. Seems his whore, your real mother, had given birth to you at her home, and she died in delivery. He did what he always did. He disappeared with the evidence—you. I was forced to become your mother so Malcom could keep you. No wonder you were daddy’s pet.” Adele’s mirthless laugh pierced the dust motes and sent them scattering.
Rhetta’s heart thumped against her rib cage. Until now, she’d hoped that Mylene couldn’t shoot her mother. This revelation changed everything. Mylene now had a green light. Rhetta had to do something. But what?
She listened intently, praying to hear sirens. Nothing.
Adele’s life was in danger, and Rhetta felt helpless. She glanced around the loft for something to use as a weapon. Nothing but dust bunnies and dried bits of hay. She dared another look over the edge of the opening. Lying on the floor against the outside wall, she made out the handle of a pitchfork protruding from a small pile of old hay. She strained to see if the fork part was still attached. Even if it wasn’t, she could use the handle as a bat to knock the rifle out of Mylene’s hands. That is if she could get to it and sneak up on Mylene. She prayed for the cops to hurry.
She reversed and scrabbled across the loft to where she’d climbed up. By her calculation, it was on the opposite side of the barn from where the standoff was occurring.
Facing the loft with her back to the barn, she set a foot down on the top rung of the ladder. Moving slowly, making sure she didn’t slip and fall and create a disturbance, she descended another rung. It was harder going down than the climb up had been. She couldn’t see where to put her feet. Her hands shook as she gripped the side of the ladder. As she finally slid to the bottom step, she snagged a splinter in the palm of her hand. She closed her eyes and winced, holding her breath until the initial stab of pain dwindled to a throb. She checked her hand and the angry two-inch sliver. After making sure both feet were on the ground, she grasped the splinter in her teeth and pulled it out. A trickle of blood followed. She sucked in a breath. The throbbing continued.
She crept as quietly as she could, praying that Mylene couldn’t hear her heart pounding. Every time her heart pounded, her palm throbbed. She reached into her pants pocket, found a tissue and pressed it into her wounded hand, hoping it would catch any droplets of blood.
She tried to keep her eye on the prize, the pitchfork, but she’d momentarily lost sight of it. She felt panic rise, until she neared the wall, and spied the fork. It looked different on the ground, smaller somehow. Two of the tines had rusted off, but the rest of it looked intact.
She inched along the wall, and using both hands, eased the pitchfork out from under the hay. It freed effortlessly. She glanced at her hand and was relieved that her wound was no longer bleeding.
With her weapon gripped in both hands, she shuffled, back pressed to the wall, dragging each foot sideways down the wall toward the women. They were still exchanging barbs, but at least no gunfire, yet. At the end of the perpendicular wall that separated her from the two women, Rhetta sucked in a deep breath. She peered through the slats, and again spied the barrel of the weapon. It bobbed as the women raised their voices. She didn’t have time to form a thorough plan. Her best offense was surprise. She decided to scream, jump out and slam the pitchfork into the barrel of the gun, and hopefully
, when it dropped, be able to grab it away before Mylene could. If she failed, she knew she and Adele were goners.
She hefted her weapon, and implored a quick prayer. God help us, please.
She leapt from her hiding place, swinging the pitchfork as hard as she could, like she would a baseball bat trying to hit a home run. It connected with the gun barrel and sent it skittering to the floor. She forgot to scream. She threw herself after the weapon and landed on it, chest first. The air whooshed out of her lungs followed by a hot stab of pain in her side. She realized instantly that she probably broke a rib.
She moaned, and tried to turn over. As she did, she heard a woman’s voice. “Oh, my God. You just saved my life. That crazy woman tried to kill me.”
The pain made Rhetta dizzy, but she clearly heard the rumble of a vehicle driving off. Crap, Mylene was getting away. She shook her head in frustration. A hand reached down to help her. When she gazed up at her rescuer, a shaken Rhetta recognized Mylene.
Chapter 59
Fear squeezed Rhetta’s heart when Mylene gripped her hand. Rhetta waited for her life to flash like a color movie before her eyes, as she’d always heard happened when death was imminent. Nothing flashed, not even a quick silent movie. Mylene gripped Rhetta’s hand until she managed to pull her to her feet.
Rhetta jerked loose from her captor and threw herself down again. She’d intended to grab the rifle, roll over and aim it at Mylene, like she’d seen done in countless movies. However, searing pain shooting from her side stopped her cold.
“What are you doing?” Mylene asked, as Rhetta yelped from facedown in the dirt.
Mylene calmly reached for the weapon, then ejected the shells. She set the rifle against the wall, then reached for Rhetta. “Don’t throw yourself to the ground again. That had to hurt. Adele took off. I expect we can at least get the cops to find her.” Once again, she tugged Rhetta to her feet.
This time, Rhetta stayed put, moaning and holding her side, unable to speak for a moment.
Mylene brushed at Rhetta’s back, knocking off some twigs and a few globs of mud. “You certainly came out of nowhere. I’m very glad that you did.” Mylene hefted the rifle easily. “Or else that crazy Adele would have killed me, too.”
“Adele?” Rhetta was confused. She shook her head, and swiped at the dirt covering her Capris, decided cleaning them off was useless, and gave up. The motion caused another shooting pain through her rib cage. She panted. “Adele killed her husband? And Jeremy? Ow,” she added as she took a deep breath. “I think I broke a rib.”
Mylene clicked her tongue in sympathy. “That hurts like the devil. Do you want me to take you to a hospital?”
“No, no, it’s not that bad.” Rhetta wasn’t about to miss out on any of the action.
Mylene continued, “Adele admitted murdering my father when she found out that Jeremy was his son with Anjanette Spears. I bet she got white-hot crazy angry. I think she must’ve lured him out here, and killed him. Jeremy figured it out after you found the body. He called me and told me his suspicions. He also remembered the old truck that’s been out at the cabin for years. Instead of going to the police, Jeremy figured he’d blackmail Adele. He was always looking for an easy buck, the good-for-nothing.”
Rhetta began to feel clammy from the pain. She sank to the floor. “Why didn’t you just go to the police?” She wanted to tell Mylene that she agreed with her assessment of Jeremy, but her mother had always told her not to speak ill of the dead.
Mylene scoffed. “Are you kidding? I didn’t have any proof. Jeremy said he’d deny knowing anything. All I had was suspicions, and besides, the cops and I don’t exactly have a great track record together.” Mylene began pacing. “I called you and wanted to meet you at the barn to find out if that old car you bought had been moved over the body. I suspected that Adele used one of the company trucks to push the car over where she had buried the body.”
She leaned over Rhetta. “I think I should take you to a clinic, or something.”
Rhetta stood. She took a few deep breaths and found the pain had lessened. “No, actually, I’m feeling better.” She steered the conversation back to the events. “What kind of proof do we have that Adele really killed Jeremy?” Rhetta asked.
“Other than she confessed to me, nothing at all.”
“And the only proof that she killed Malcom is that truck, whose paint scrapings and dents we think correspond to the bumper on my Z28,” Rhetta said. “That is, if we can get the cops to go to Bollinger County and impound that truck.”
“Come with me. I’ll take you to get looked at. I think you’re in a lot of pain.” Mylene said. “We can call the sheriff and tell him about what we suspect.”
Rhetta shook her head. “Can’t go just yet. Ricky left here to call the cops. They should be arriving any time. We can tell them in person.”
Mylene nodded, a brief smile twitching her lips. “I thought I heard someone pull in and then leave. So that was Ricky, your friend? She left, but you stayed.” Mylene nodded her understanding. “No wonder I didn’t know where you popped in from.” It was Mylene’s turn to shake her head at that discovery. “Foolish Rhetta. But very brave, too. I’m grateful for your courage.” She steered Rhetta outside to the shiny Viper, opened the passenger door, and eased her into the seat. “I can run the air conditioner until the cops get here. That is, if they don’t take all day. I only have a half tank of gas.” She smiled.
Rhetta moaned when she saw the white leather interior that reminded her of Cami’s. She gazed down at her dirt and blood covered, formerly white Capris. She sank into the seat, letting the cool air carry her away.
* * *
Wailing sirens jarred Rhetta awake. Lying back against the Viper’s cool interior, she’d closed her eyes, hoping to stay quiet and ease the pain in her side. She lurched for the door handle, pushed open the passenger door and was immediately smothered by a blast of summer heat.
Mylene was leaning against the front fender, smoking a cigarette. Rhetta nearly begged her for one, but stopped herself when she spotted a black Trans Am following the squad car into the driveway. She knew she didn’t have time to smoke it.
After Rhetta clambered out of the car, Mylene opened the driver’s door and turned off the ignition. She stepped back, ground out her cigarette with the heel of her shoe, then joined Rhetta on the passenger side of the Viper. Mylene’s hair was damp with perspiration, her lips set in a grim line. She propped herself against her car, and crossed her arms across her chest. It was clear from her body language she didn’t want anything to do with the deputies.
Beads of sweat danced across Rhetta’s forehead and threatened to trickle down her nose. She swiped the back of her hand across her brow. Wiping her hands on her pants leg, she turned and examined the car seat she’d just vacated. An outline of dirt revealed where she’d been sitting.
A Cape County Sheriff’s patrol car with swirling red and blue flashing lights emerged from a giant dust cloud and skidded to a stop alongside the Viper. In synchronized movement, two deputies left their car and approached them. Each man rested a hand on the butt of a holstered service weapon. Ricky slammed her driver’s door and hobbled toward Rhetta and Mylene. If she was surprised to see Mylene standing next to Rhetta, she didn’t say.
Everyone converged on the Viper.
Chapter 60
A lanky deputy wearing a perfectly pressed uniform and sporting a pencil-thin dark mustache held up a hand and signaled for silence. “Good grief, can someone take a breath here and tell me what’s going on?” He studied the three women, and from the expression on his face, Rhetta felt it was with strong disapproval. She swore she saw his lip curl.
Properly chastised, everyone stopped talking and nobody spoke.
He walked around each of them. “Alrighty, then.” He rubbed his hands together. “Can someone tell me why we got a call to come out here?” he said, removing his flat brimmed hat and slapping dust off the outer brim. He returned it carefully
to his head, reached into his breast pocket for a notebook, flipped it open and waited. “You can all start by giving me your names.”
Mylene, arms still crossed, silently shook her head, glanced sidelong at Rhetta. Then she leaned over and whispered, “We need to go after Adele. I bet anything she’s going out to Bollinger County to destroy the truck. That’s the only evidence that she killed my father. That is, besides the fact that she admitted it to me.”
Rhetta nodded.
Ricky said, “I don’t know anything. I just called 9-1-1, is all.” She whispered to Rhetta. “So, Mylene’s not the killer?” Ricky leaned against the Viper, stretching her injured foot out ahead of her, but not before she caressed the shiny hood.
“Nope,” Rhetta said.
The deputy, apparently noticing everyone deferring to Rhetta, ambled over to stand in front of her, pencil poised. The second deputy stayed back, hand on his weapon while his head swiveled, as though scoping out the area.
“Care to tell me what happened here?” He gestured to the barn. He turned to the other deputy, a short wall of a man in a tight uniform. “This barn and development has just been a regular hubbub of activity lately.”
Mylene slid her hand alongside her mouth and whispered to Rhetta, “Did he just say hubbub?” They choked back a snicker.
One by one, the three of them identified themselves. Then, Rhetta related what happened, ending with, “We believe Adele Griffith is on her way to her cabin in Bollinger County to destroy evidence. You need to notify the Bollinger County Sheriff’s office right away.”
“Right. You’re saying Adele Griffith admitted to killing her husband and Jeremy Spears? And did both of them in at this old barn?” He looked over at his partner, who shrugged.
“Guess it has sentimental value for her,” Mylene muttered.
“Can’t you please call the Bollinger County Sheriff and have him go to the cabin to arrest Adele Griffith?” Rhetta asked.