The Drowned Woman Page 15
‘You are going to live on a policeman’s salary?’
‘Now see here,’ Joe said.
‘As long as you live under my roof,’ Arliss said, ‘you will do as you’re told. I forbid this nonsense. Get your purse. We are leaving.’
‘I’m not leaving,’ Sophie said. ‘I’m staying here.’
‘You’ll do no such thing,’ Arliss said. Joe, Lavinia, and Sophie faced her, a united front. ‘Fine. I forbid you to cross the threshold into my home. You can have the clothes on your back, and that is all.’ She nodded at Joe. ‘You want her? You can have her.’ She put on her black gloves one at a time.
‘So you’re not too shocked when you get home,’ Sophie said, ‘I’ve taken my things. My clothes and my furniture. I had them moved out while you were at the hairdresser’s this morning.’
‘Your furniture?’
‘Yes, mother. The pieces that grandmother left me. They are mine. I took them.’ Everything happened so fast. Arliss lifted her hand to slap Sophie. Sophie was quicker. She grabbed Arliss’s hand and moved close to her. ‘Stop it, Mother. I’m done being bullied by you.’
‘You can either give us your blessing or leave,’ Joe said.
Arliss looked around the room. All eyes were upon her. All of her neighbors, the people to whom she had acted so superior, looked at her with pitying expressions. Her color drained away.
‘Go to hell.’ She looked around the room. ‘All of you.’ She turned and walked out of the house, slamming the door behind her.
One monumental collective sigh marked Arliss Winslow’s departure. And just like that, the moment was over. Someone put a classical piano concerto on the phonograph. The waiters circled with fresh champagne. Soon conversation flowed. Arliss had taken the tension with her.
Zeke, who had come to stand behind me during the scene between Sophie and her mother, took my hand. Together we approached Joe, Lavinia, and Sophie.
‘Are you okay?’ Joe took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his brow.
‘I feel wonderful,’ Sophie said. ‘Now I wonder why I didn’t do that years ago.’
‘Never mind that, dear,’ Lavinia said. ‘Your mother will come around, just you wait and see. Meanwhile, you’ve got us. I’m so happy to welcome you to the family.’
‘Mother, I’m going to propose a toast to the couple, if you don’t mind.’
‘Go ahead, dear,’ Lavinia said.
‘It’s an unusual thing for a funeral, I know,’ Wade said.
‘And when have we ever been usual?’ Lavinia smiled at her son.
Wade walked to the middle of the room. He picked up a spoon from the buffet and clanked it on his glass.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said. Everyone stopped and looked up at Wade. Those who were sitting in the other room came in. ‘My dad was a great man who always put family first. Those of us who are here today are the people my father loved. You are our family. I’m sorry my dad isn’t here to witness this event, but I am certain that he would approve. I would like to propose a toast to my brother and Sophie. Here’s to your upcoming marriage. May your life together be filled with love, happiness, and – please god – grandchildren for my mother.’ A murmur of laughter ran through the room. Wade held up his glass. ‘To Joe and Sophie.’
‘Joe and Sophie,’ we said in unison.
Joe and Sophie held up their glasses while we drank to them. Soon everyone circled around the couple, wishing them congratulations. I followed Zeke, who shook Joe’s hand and hugged Sophie.
‘Congratulations,’ I said to Joe.
‘Thanks, Sarah.’ He smiled at me.
‘Best wishes, Sophie.’ I waited for her to bite my head off. She gave me a shy smile – a gesture so out of character that I almost dropped my glass of champagne.
‘Don’t look so surprised, Sarah. I’m really not that mean. Maybe it’s time we bury the hatchet,’ Sophie said. ‘I’ve been horrible to you. Forgive me?’
‘Already done.’ I wanted to tell Sophie that I knew who she was and what she had done. I understood her now. Secure in the knowledge that Wade Connor would deal with Sophie, I moved away from the crowd. ‘I’m going to walk home,’ I said to Zeke.
‘By yourself?’ Zeke said.
‘Of course. Why not? You’ve got FBI people all over the place. What could go wrong?’
Wade Connor stood next to me. ‘Zeke and I can take you. We’re about to go get Helen. I’m going to meet with the county prosecutor after I speak with her.’
‘I’d really rather walk, if you don’t mind. I just want a little time to myself.’
‘I don’t like it,’ Zeke said.
‘There’s been no sign of any of Hendrik Shrader’s men,’ Wade said. ‘Do you have your gun?’
I opened my purse and showed them the gun.
‘Where’s Daphne or Granna? Get one of them to go with you,’ Zeke said.
‘I don’t know where they are.’
‘Just hurry,’ Zeke said. ‘It’s going to rain and be mindful of lightning.’
‘You won’t leave Helen?’
‘No,’ Zeke said.
‘See you at home.’ I left Zeke and Wade and headed out into the overcast afternoon.
* * *
The sun broke through the clouds just as I reached Toby’s swing. Someone – Daphne in all likelihood – had scattered sunflower seeds along the trail. They bloomed into abundant thatches of yellow along the path. I sat on the swing and took off my stockings, tucking them into my purse. At one point I thought I heard footsteps on the path behind me. Bushes rustled. Birds stopped singing. I reached into my purse, grateful that I was armed, and waited. Soon the birds started chirping. I chastised myself for letting Helen’s anxiety rub off on me. Something didn’t feel right.
‘Hello? Who’s there?’ I called out. No one answered.
Lightning cracked through the sky like an arrow from heaven. I counted to three before the thunder bumped, remembering the five-seconds-equals-a-mile credo. I ran toward the abandoned barn where Zeke and I had our picnic, not caring if anyone followed me. Another bolt of lightning shot from the sky, and this time the thunder was right on its heels. The air around the barn smelled of electricity. Without thinking, I opened the old door, desperate for a safe place. When I looked back at this later, I would realize that the rusty hinges should have squeaked, but they didn’t. Someone had oiled the door. I propped it open for the light and hoped that when the rain did come, the metal roof would prove sound.
I ignored the smell of mouldy hay and fuel and moved deeper into the building, looking for a place to sit. A rusty tractor lay under decades of dust. Outside the thunder and lightning raged. A shiver ran down my spine; goose bumps covered my arms and the back of my neck. I stopped, stood in the middle of the barn, listening for footsteps, the sound of someone else’s breath, certain in the knowledge that I was being watched.
‘Hello?’ I called out. My heart pounded in my chest.
The barn door swung shut, leaving me in darkness. The bolt clicked home, locking me in.
Footsteps moved outside. I ran to the door, pushed on it, but the old wood held fast.
‘Help!’ I shouted and pounded on the door, to no avail. Was there a window in here? After a few seconds my eyes adjusted to the light, and I saw an old ladder, which led to the hayloft above.
‘Let me out, please.’ I beat the door with my fist.
No one answered. Someone stood outside the barn. The sound of ripping newspaper puzzled me at first, but when the paper was stuffed under the locked door by a gloved hand and gasoline – for there was no mistaking the smell – was poured on the rumpled paper, the gravity of my situation sunk in.
In the dim light I could just make out the tiny rivulets of liquid that flowed under the dried wood of the walls, carving rivers in the dirt. Outside, my assailant didn’t speak, but his breath came in short, rapid bursts. Every sound was magnified. I heard the head of the match as it brushed on the box. He threw the match dow
n, and with a whoosh the rivers turned into liquid flames. They spread along the front of the dry building in an instant. When the fire reached the stack of hay, the flames consumed it, and grew. Desperate, I looked around the room, my eyes tearing from the smoke that burned my lungs. The ladder.
I ran toward it, holding my breath. Tears ran down my cheeks. Behind me, the flames grew larger. I grabbed onto the bottom rung, ignoring the huge splinter that wedged into the pad of my thumb. Praying that the rotten wood would support my body weight, I hoisted myself up the ladder and onto the weak floorboards in the hayloft. Soon the floor beneath me would catch fire. Before me, the opening loomed. I would need to jump. A broken bone was better than being burned alive. Just as I got close, the flames crept up through the wood floor. I heard voices.
‘Sarah?’ Zeke stood outside.
I ran to the opening and saw Zeke looking up at me.
‘What do I do?’
‘Jump. You have to jump,’ Zeke said.
Soon Wade came running out of the shrubs. I heard Wade say, ‘How in the hell did this fire start?’ He carried a gray army blanket. He unfolded it. They held it taut between them.
‘Jump onto the blanket. It will break the fall,’ Zeke said. ‘Sarah, the building is going to collapse. You have to jump. We have to move away from the building before it collapses. Jump!’
I closed my eyes and jumped.
Chapter 17
The blanket did little to break the fall. When I hit the ground, my breath left my body, as though sucked out by a vacuum. Zeke and Wade pulled me to my feet and dragged me away from the building while I struggled for breath.
We had just gotten clear of the smoke and heat when the old barn collapsed in a burning heap of flames. The embers flew toward the sky and scattered on the ground. We all stood by, watching as the grass in front of the barn caught fire. When the wind picked up, the fire spread over the dry golden grass.
‘We need to get some help,’ Zeke said. ‘It’s dry as tinder around here.’
‘Let’s get to the car. It’s just at the road. We’ll have to hurry and call the fire department.’
‘Can you walk?’ Zeke said.
‘Yes.’ I wasn’t in any pain. In fact, I really couldn’t feel anything. ‘I’m fine.’ I took a wobbly step.
‘She’s not fine,’ Wade said.
‘Lean on me.’ Zeke put his arm around me. No one spoke as we walked toward the road, away from the crackling flames. The sky grew darker by the minute. Just as we approached Wade’s car, the clouds opened and the rain fell. I tipped my face up toward it, not caring that I would be dragged home looking like a wet dog.
Wade got behind the wheel. Zeke scooted into the back with me. My teeth had started to chatter. Zeke wrapped the blanket around me.
‘She’s in shock,’ Zeke said.
‘I’m driving as fast as I can,’ Wade snapped. ‘I can’t see.’
‘What happened back there, Sarah?’ Zeke asked.
‘Someone locked me in the barn,’ I said.
‘Did you see who did it?’ Wade asked.
‘No,’ I whispered. My throat was utterly parched. I would have given anything for a glass of water.
‘What were you doing on the path?’ I asked. I felt warm and loopy, as though someone had given me an injection of opium.
‘Wade’s car was blocked in, so I was going to get our car and pick him up,’ Zeke said.
‘And then the Belmonts left, so I was able to move my car. I was driving looking for Zeke when I saw the smoke and pulled over.’ Wade watched me through the rear-view mirror.
‘What made you grab a blanket?’ Zeke asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Wade said. ‘I always carry one in my trunk.’
I tried to speak, but the effort of it hurt my throat. Zeke’s face started undulating in slow rolling waves. His voice faded away, even though his lips moved. I felt myself lose consciousness as I went down, down, down.
‘It was Rachel,’ I said, my voice scratchy. And everything went black.
* * *
When I awoke, Zeke sat next to my bed. His damp hair hung over his collar. The smell of gasoline brought everything back to me. I sat up.
‘I need to wash.’ My words came out as a dry bark.
‘Good morning, my love,’ Zeke said. He helped me to sit up and propped pillows behind me. He poured a tall glass of ice water out of the pitcher next to the bed. I gulped it greedily, savoring the feel of the cold liquid as it soothed my throat.
‘What time is it?’ My stomach rumbled.
Zeke poured me some beef tea out of a thermos that sat on the table. ‘Drink this. You’ve been asleep for almost fourteen hours.’ I sipped the warm broth. Nothing had ever tasted so good.
‘The doctor’s examined you. He gave you a shot to let you rest,’ Zeke said. ‘You remember what happened?’
‘The fire,’ I said. ‘Is Helen okay? What happened?’
Zeke met my eyes, but he didn’t speak. ‘Can we leave that for now? Why don’t you take a bath? While you’re doing that, I’ll put some sheets on the bed that don’t stink of smoke and fuel, and get Mrs Griswold to bring you up a tray. After you’ve eaten, I’ll tell you everything.’
‘Zeke—’
‘You need to care for yourself right now, Sarah. I’ll tell you everything, but first things first.’
Half an hour later, I sat on the sofa, the slightest smell of smoke and gasoline lingering in my hair, an empty plate in front of me. I had eaten two eggs and an entire bowl of chicken and vegetable soup, despite my sore throat, which, according to Zeke, would get better in a day or two.
‘Now tell me,’ I said. ‘Who did Helen see? Have the police made any arrests?’
‘Daphne,’ Zeke said.
‘What?’
‘No one is quite sure what to believe,’ Zeke said. ‘Detective Bateson all but spat in her face. Simon is shocked. He believes Helen, of course, but it’s hard to rationalize that his wife is a cold-blooded murderer.’
‘But why in the world would Daphne murder Rachel and Ken Connor?’
‘That we don’t know. But Helen swears she saw Daphne come into the room carrying the rucksack. Helen saw her open it and put the emeralds in the bag. Detective Bateson grilled her about it, so did Joe, and so did Wade. She never changed her story, not once. She didn’t flinch. She was utterly credible. I believe her.’
‘And Daphne? Where is she?’
‘Gone,’ Zeke said.
‘Gone?’
‘There’s a nationwide manhunt for the woman. We’ll find her.’
Zeke stood up. He walked to the window, his limp more pronounced today than it had been for a while. He moved the curtains aside and stared out at the pasture. ‘She saw Helen as we were taking her down to the mill. I thought Helen was going to throw up when she ran into Daphne. If I had been paying attention, I would have picked up on that. Daphne, being smarter than the average person, knew in an instant what Helen was about. After Helen told us what she saw, Joe came to get Daphne to take her in for questioning. She was gone. She had taken a small bag with her, but she was gone.
‘Is there any proof? What about the emeralds?’
Zeke shook his head. ‘It’s going to be Helen’s word against Daphne’s word, I’m afraid. If Daphne has the emeralds, she’s taken them with her. We’ve nothing to go on. We’ve no proof that she took the emeralds, no proof that she ever had the emeralds.
‘Zeke, I’m so sorry,’ I said. ‘How’s Helen?’
‘She’s holding up,’ Zeke said. ‘Frightfully strong girl. She’s at her father’s. Simon has been with her.’
‘Does Simon believe her?’
‘Yes, he does.’ He bent down and kissed me on the forehead. ‘He’s distraught and relieved, if you can believe that. He and Daphne haven’t been husband and wife for some time now. She tried to kill you, too, Sarah. We found a fuel can and stacks of newspaper in the backseat of her car.’
‘My god,’ I said. ‘Do you
think she’ll come back? What are we supposed to do?’
‘Nothing,’ Zeke said. ‘We’re going to let the authorities do their job. They’ll find her. She left in a hurry, didn’t take her purse or anything, only the clothes on her back. It’s possible she’s hidden the emeralds around the house and will come back for them.’
‘And then she’ll go to trial. I cannot even imagine the media circus that will entail. I’m surprised Nick Newland isn’t here already.’
‘Wade’s taken care of Nick Newland. And as for the press, they haven’t got wind of anything. There’s hope that Daphne will be captured before the week lets out. Let’s just wait and see what happens.’ He kissed me. ‘I need to make a few phone calls. I’ll be back shortly. Will you be alright by yourself?’
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Good. You’re to stay in bed today, doctor’s orders.’
‘Fine. But tomorrow I’m going to see Helen.’
‘Fine,’ Zeke said.
Wade and Zeke were worried enough to keep a man outside my door. I got up, padded over to the door and double checked the lock. My throat felt dry again, as if there weren’t enough water in the world to quench my endless thirst. Daphne’s vase of flowers sat on my desk. Zeke had left the Final Morning Edition of the San Francisco Chronicle on the coffee table. ‘COAL STRIKE IS ON! BUT MINERS OFFER TO WORK FOR U.S.!’ Sixty-four thousand miners walked off the job. Soon the country wouldn’t have any electricity. I could not have cared less.
I opened the French doors and took the clean air in through my nose, since sucking oxygen in through my mouth burned the back of my throat. The rain had mitigated the heat and washed the dust away. Outside, the greenery was clean and crisp, and the smell of damp earth and sweet grass lifted my spirits. Thoughts of Daphne, Simon, Ken Connor, and poor, poor Toby ran through my mind. What would become of that child when he discovered what his mother had done? At least Simon was exonerated. At least Toby and Simon would have each other. Meanwhile, Daphne remained on the loose, and there was no physical proof whatsoever that she had the emeralds or that she had committed the murders. I longed to do something productive, something that would move Zeke’s and my life forward, but it seemed as though we were in a perpetual state of limbo, at least until Daphne was caught. And for the time being anyway, that is where we would stay. I ran this pattern of thoughts through my head over and over and over.