A Fair to Die For (17 page)

Henry said, “Carrie, please forget this whole idea. It’s potentially dangerous. Remember John Harley himself may have been responsible for the RV search and gas leak, and he surely knows the source of those powder-filled toys. He isn’t likely to continue accepting Milton Sales as a true friend.”

“Ah. We’ll see about that,” Edie said. “That’s one reason I want to go along.”

Carrie, excited by a new idea, said, “What about this? I’ll buy a wig, and that, with high-heeled boots, my tinted glasses, and one of my older pantsuits should conceal me pretty well. John Harley and his wife, so far as we know, have never seen you, Henry, but we’ll think of something to change your looks a bit anyway. We can be in the dining room when Milton and Edie go there. We could keep watch and provide back-up.”

“
WHAT!”
Henry said, then looked around the room to see if anyone had noticed his outburst. Everyone seemed absorbed in their own conversations and food.

“I’m not involving civilians,” Milton said.

Edie moved her hand, put it on his arm, and stood. “My friend, I have something to explain to you. Let’s go for a walk.”

Chapter Sixteen
WHO’S IN DANGER NOW?

“Well, why couldn’t they talk in front of us?” Carrie asked as soon as footsteps on the wooden stairway died away. “I suppose she’s going to tell him about her work as a confidential source for DEA, so what’s up with the secrecy?”

Henry shrugged. “Maybe a little romance mixed in? Otherwise, there may be things about her work—and his—that we don’t need to know.”

Carrie huffed. “Guess they don’t fully trust us.”

“Nor we them,” he said. “And, speaking of that, we are not going to any meeting between Milton, Edie, and the Harleys. That whole adventure could be dangerous for them, assuming we have heard nothing but the straight truth this morning. It’s out of the question for us.”

“But, Edie’s safety . . . ”

“I know, Cara, and I understand your concern, but she’s working for the DEA by choice, what she does in relation to the Harleys is her decision alone. I’m sure she doesn’t expect us to provide back-up. I also understand Sales’s reasons for going to the Crescent Hotel, and why Edie would want to go along. Again, assuming the truth of what they’ve told us, both of them are stuck in a difficult position, with the Harleys possibly knowing or suspecting Sales is connected to law enforcement. I think Sales believes they were responsible for the wreckage and gas leak in the RV, and I agree it’s likely they were. Of course the way Harley gave those toys to you pretty much nails him as involved in the drug trade, assuming it’s true that he would have known Milton Sales did not make them.”

“Yes, I understand all that, Henry. I’m not stupid.”

He frowned and spent a silent moment just looking at her. “Carrie, my dear, I never said you were, let alone thought it.”

“Well, but . . . but you were explaining things I know as if I didn’t know them.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was offending you. I was just repeating suspicions and facts as I see them, partly to think them over myself.”

“Oh.”

When she said nothing more, he went on. “It’s a volatile and dangerous situation, with the advantage being on the Harleys’ side for the moment. Profitable craft fair undercover work by Sales is pretty much out of the question from now on unless he can convince them he has no connection to law enforcement. Since they probably don’t suspect Edie, she could help by playing girlfriend and, in the conversation, bring up fictionalized details that prove his ordinary citizenship, or even details of his drug use, past or present. That may be what the two of them are talking over right this minute. In any case, the meeting at Eureka Springs is going to be difficult, and for us to be there in any capacity would be extremely foolish, especially if the Harleys learned we were there and who we are.”

She nodded her head, and stared into her empty coffee cup.

“Cara?”

“Let’s go downstairs and see if Edie is ready to go home with us.”

There were several more cars in the parking area, and one man had just finished unloading fishing gear from his van. While Henry watched him from the mill porch, he headed across the road to the river area below the stone dam.

Huh, never thought of fishing the War Eagle. Might be interesting to try it out.

There was no sign of Edie and Milton at first, but then Carrie, who had walked out into the parking lot, pointed toward the bridge on the opposite side of the mill. Henry joined her, and saw Edie and Milton leaning on the bridge railing overlooking the millrace and wheel. Edie was talking and gesturing while Milton listened, shaking his head slowly and staring down into the churning water.

Henry wondered if this had been going on since the two left the restaurant. Well, it didn’t matter. No way he and Carrie were going to get in any deeper. Time to head for home and schedule Carrie’s interview with Investigator Burke.

Now Sales was shaking his head more vigorously. It would have been interesting to hear what they were saying. He wondered whether Edie or Milton would prevail when it came to plans for future undercover work.

“Should we walk over there?” Carrie asked.

“They wanted privacy. We’ll give them what they want.”

“For how long?”

“Good point. I assume they’ve seen us. If we simply stand here as if waiting for them to finish, I’m sure that will speed things along.”

“You can stand here. I’m going back inside the mill and do more looking around. They have a lot of interesting cookware on the second floor. If those two aren’t finished when I get back, then I’ll go closer and see if that reminds Edie I need to get back home and call Investigator Burke.

“Go ahead. I’d like to watch that guy who came here to fish. Think I’ll walk to the river where he’s setting up. I might decide to try my luck here some time and maybe he can give me some pointers. I’ll find you in the mill if Edie and Milton break loose before you’re back.”

Carrie spent more time looking at jewelry and crafts on the second floor than cookware. Before long she tired of even that, and decided to go back to the first floor for a closer look at mixes and flours she wasn’t familiar with. Just reading instructions for using some of that stuff could be entertaining, and, come to think of it, they had recipe books, too. Maybe she’d add a second cookbook to her kitchen.

But first . . . a trip to the restroom. She went out the front door of the mill and saw Henry standing with the angler. He wouldn’t miss her. Crossing the parking lot, she opened the door to the women’s side of what she thought must be the fanciest pit toilets in Arkansas.

She heard someone come in while she was still in a stall, and, when she opened the door to come out she gasped, and said, “This is the women’s rest . . .”

“I know.”

The man had a gun, and, in the close quarters, it was easy for him to push it against her neck. “We are going to walk out of here quietly, go to the van across the lot, and you are going to get in, also very quietly. If you don’t, my partner, who is playing at fishing across the road, will kill your friend so quickly he won’t know what hit him. Do you understand this?”

Oh God, oh dear God, Henry . . .

“Yes, I understand.”

“Then let’s go. Walk beside me. I’ll have the gun right here. Do you see it?”

“Yes.”

There had to be something she could do. Drop to the ground? Yell? But, what about Henry? And, where were Edie and Milton?

She dropped her purse.

The two of them continued walking. It seemed like miles, but it was only a few yards. Because of the bridge approach she could no longer see Henry, or the man who had supposedly been fishing. Where were they? Where were Edie and Milton?
Oh God, help us all.

Then she and the man were next to the van and the man was opening the sliding door, pushing her up and across the seat. He got in, sat next to her, shut the door. The gun touched her side.

Who’s the man fishing? Could it be Arnie? This guy could have been the one who stayed in the car when the two of them were at my house. I wish I’d paid more attention to the picture on Henry’s phone. But, if the other man is Arnie, why didn’t Henry recognize him?

The driver’s door opened and the man next to her said, “She dropped her purse on the way to the van. I was hanging on to her so couldn’t get it.

The man at the door grunted, left, and came back to toss her purse on the passenger seat, following it with large sunglasses and a floppy khaki hat that had drooped around his face. Instead of the suit, he wore jeans and a dirty, over-sized canvas jacket.

The man turned toward them and asked, “Guess all went okay?”

Arnie!
That name fits him better now than Agent Arnold Frost, and she understood why Henry hadn’t identified him. She probably wouldn’t have recognized him herself. The dirt, rough clothing, and day’s growth of beard in contrast to a slick, clean-shaven man in a well-tailored dark suit sure made a difference.

But now Henry was out of danger, and probably in the mill, already looking for her. What, what could she do to signal him?

“Yup, all okay. Best get out of here before hubby gets wise.”

The van began moving in slow motion. Carrie’s thoughts also seemed to be coming in slow motion, including the words to the Ninety-first Psalm she’d read in the New Living Translation of the Bible just a few days ago:

He alone is my place of safety . . . he will rescue me from every trap.

The gun poked her side and she almost laughed aloud. This sure was a trap, and she sure needed rescuing. It didn’t matter whether the thoughts about safety were three thousand years old, or had been written yesterday, they sounded good to her.

But why did they take her? Why would Carrie McCrite be of any use to them? Did they think she knew things they needed to learn.
Oh. She knew Edie, and now, Milton. But why not attempt to take one or both of them, instead of me?

Because you were alone—vulnerable and easy?

So, what should I do right now?

WAIT,
a voice inside her head said.

Okay, she’d wait. She didn’t really have a choice about that anyway.

The van turned onto a side road, bounced along for a few minutes, stopped. Arnie got out, came around, and opened the sliding door. The man next to her said, “Arnie has a gun, too. You are going to come outside with me now, and stand beside the van. No funny business.” He backed out, yanking on her arm to pull her across the seat.

“Owww. Let me go. I can get out on my own.”

“Then do it. And don‘t forget, both guns are pointed at you.”

As soon as Carrie was out and standing next to the van, the second man, as Carrie had come to think of him, held her while Arnie pulled her hands together in front and put on handcuffs. He then pulled a pillowcase over her head. She heard some kind of sturdy tape being pulled off a roll and soon figured out why. Tape was wrapped loosely around the pillowcase, keeping it from sliding off her head, but leaving enough of an opening to allow free passage of air. Duct tape? Electrician’s tape? Electrician’s tape was stretchy, and would probably be easier to remove than duct tape.

“Get back in the van.”

Feeling her way, Carrie obeyed. When someone held her feet together and lifted them, she tensed, preparing to kick out. Then she held back.
Wait.
She didn’t want to make them angry. She sat quietly while they taped her ankles.

I don’t suppose they plan to kill me. After all, they could have cuffed my hands behind me, which might be safer for them, but would make it impossible for me to sit comfortably. So they think I might be of some value to them. Alive.

Doors shut. The second man sat down heavily on the seat next to her. The van backed, bouncing on the unpaved road. Then, eventually, it moved forward onto smooth pavement.

She fought terror—but any sense she was winning that battle seemed remote and incredibly tiny.
I can’t give in to this. I can’t, I can’t. I need to think clearly . . .I need to think.

She gritted her teeth.
Don’t cry, don’t you dare cry. You can’t blow your nose.

Instead of crying, Carrie began giggling. Feeling incredibly stupid, she tried to quit, but the giggles kept bubbling out.

Until the second man’s hand smacked across her face.

Chapter Seventeen
ABDUCTION

Turning his back to Henry, the guy getting ready to fish put down his rod and opened the tackle box. Henry heard him rummaging around, then a muffled exclamation before he headed back toward the parking lot.

Must have forgotten something.

Henry looked out into the river. Good place for spin casting. He’d call the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission and find out more. This guy was ignoring him, and obviously wasn’t one to share information. But he was a trusting soul to walk off and leave his equipment at the feet of a stranger.

Henry looked down at the fishing rod the man had dropped on the ground.
What
the
deuce
? The rod didn’t have line in it. The grip was dirty and pieces were missing. Alarm began to stir, and, without even considering fingerprints, Henry jerked the shabby tackle box open. It was full of junk, bits and pieces of nothing.

He headed toward the parking lot at a trot, and came up over the bridge approach just in time to see the van pulling away.

It took too many minutes to search the mill, and the clerk on the second floor said a woman of Carrie’s description had gone downstairs several minutes ago. Henry rushed out into the parking lot, shouted at Milton and Edie that Carrie was missing, and then barged into the women’s section of the outhouse without any hesitation.
Empty
.

No, NO!

Edie and Milton were standing by Shirley’s car when Henry ran back into the lot.

In jerks, he told them, “Abducted. Carrie. Probably those same two guys. Should have been more alert. Should have looked more carefully at the man who got out of the van. Might have been Arnie Frost. Should have known. Dark windows on the van. We have to follow. When we get to the highway I’ll go left, you go right. Van was white, dark windows.”