Mercy Street (23 page)

Charlie paused, then turned to meet Mallory’s eyes. They stared at each other thoughtfully for a long moment before he turned back to the road.

“Where does she live?” Mallory asked.

“She used to live on the farm she grew up on. The farm her father bought. The one where supposedly her great-grandparents hid out right before the end of the Civil War.” He made a U-turn and headed back toward Conroy. “It’s outside the city on Rayburn Road. She’s preserved the farm, opens it several days a week as a sort of living history project.”

“And she’s how old?”

“Actually, my best guess, she’d be in her mideighties now. Last I heard, she had volunteers—including a few of her grandkids—working the farm.”

“You think she’d hide Courtney and Ryan?”

“Who better to understand that sometimes, in order to stay alive, you have to stay out of sight?”

They had just pulled into the drive on Rayburn Road when Mallory’s phone rang.

“Mallory, Kevin Burch here.”

“Hi, Father. What’s—”

He cut her off without apology. “Misty Bauer never showed up here at school this morning.”

“What? Her mother said she left the house early, that she got a ride—”

“She never got here.” The priest was obviously rattled.

“Did you call the police?”

“Yes.”

“Does her mother know?”

“I just called her. I’m on my way over to her workplace right now.”

“Maybe Misty decided to skip school today, maybe she and a friend—”

“I’ve spoken with all her friends. I thought the same thing at first. They’re all here. She’s the only one missing.”

“The friend whose mother drove them in this morning…”

“She said Misty got up to the front door and said there was something she needed to do, that she’d be right in.”

“Thanks for the heads-up, Father. Let me know if she turns up.”

Mallory turned to Charlie with worried eyes.

“Misty’s not at school,” she told him.

“I figured that. So the question is, where is she?”

“My guess is that she’s either looking for Courtney or she’s hiding from Regina or…”

“Or Regina has her and they’re looking for Courtney together.”

“Shit.” Mallory slapped the dashboard with an open palm.

There were two vehicles parked in the yard between the neatly kept old farmhouse and the barn. Charlie pulled up next to a beat-up red pickup and cut the engine.

“Miz Rayburn used to have this set up just the way it would have been in the mid–eighteen hundreds,” Charlie told Mallory. “Farm animals—cows, sheep, pigs, goats, chickens, that sort of thing—that kids could come and see close up. For a lot of city kids, that was as close as they’d ever get, you know? The local schools would come here for class trips. Maybe they still do. Miz Rayburn would give a talk about farm life and about slavery, and she’d explain the Underground Railroad and how many runaways passed through this area. I remember her telling us how proud we could be that people right here around Conroy were brave enough to take a stand and risk their lives so that other people could live free.”

He unfastened his seat belt. “It was very moving, actually.”

“It must have been. You still remember it so vividly.”

“She made a big impression on me. I can’t believe I didn’t think of her sooner.” He looked at the house. “Let’s go let her know we’re here, see what we can find out.”

Mallory followed Charlie around the house to the front door.

“It’s so quiet out here,” she said.

Charlie frowned. “Maybe too quiet.”

He rang the doorbell, and they heard it echo through the house. When no one answered, he knocked several times, but there was no response.

“Maybe she doesn’t live here anymore,” Mallory suggested.

She stood on tiptoes to peer through the front windows.

“There’s still furniture in there. Someone’s living here.”

Charlie stood on the top step and surveyed the property. “Late morning on a working farm, you’d expect people to be out and about.”

She pointed beyond the barn where several black-and-white cows shared the pasture with as many goats and three horses. “Someone’s been here to let the animals out. Maybe they went somewhere. Or maybe they’re in the big barn there.”

“Let’s take a look.”

The barn door was partially open, but rather than swing it wide, Charlie paused as if listening. Mallory leaned her head toward the opening but couldn’t hear a sound from within. He motioned for her to get behind him as he drew his gun from inside his jacket; she pulled hers from the small of her back. He opened the door slightly and slid in, and she followed. They crouched low in the dim light and looked around. There were stalls on both sides of the barn, and they all appeared empty.

“I don’t hear anything,” she whispered.

“Neither do I.”

“Let’s check the outbuildings,” she suggested. “You take the small barn, I’ll take the icehouse.”

“All right,” he said. “Do you have your phone with you?”

“It’s in my bag, in the car.”

“Stop and get it, then dial my number. Leave the line open, keep in touch. It’ll act sort of like a walkie-talkie.”

She did just that, tucking the phone into the pocket of her light linen jacket.

“Hey, Mallory,” he called to her as she turned toward the icehouse. “Don’t be a hero. If you think something isn’t right, it probably isn’t. Let me know.”

“You, too.”

There were leaves piled around the bottom of the icehouse door. Mallory figured if someone was hiding in there, the leaves would have been swept to one side, but she checked inside anyway. There were moss-covered stone steps leading down to a running stream between two large rocks. It was obvious no one had been there for a while. She backed out and reached for her phone.

“Charlie, I don’t think anyone’s been in the icehouse in a long time. I’m moving on to the chicken house.” She paused, waiting for a response. “Charlie?”

She frowned, the phone held close to her face. The call had dropped. She dialed again and listened in vain. No service.

She dropped the phone into her pocket and headed toward the back of the chicken house. She hesitated outside the door, then opened it just enough to slip through. Inside it was dark and warm and humid and smelled of straw and feathers. The windows were cloudy with dust and cobwebs and let in precious little light. Mallory took three steps along the wall, her gun in her right hand. Wooden bins sat waist-high off the floor on both sides of the narrow room; in several, hens sat on straw nests as if on thrones. She lowered her gun hand and stepped into the aisle between the roosts. By the time she heard the
whoosh
sound, it was too late to react. Mallory fell face-forward as something struck the back of her knees and her legs were cut out from under her.

“Drop the gun!” someone demanded, then, “Get it. Pick it up.”

Mallory turned her face and looked up as Misty Bauer grabbed the handgun from the floor and backed away in a flash. She pointed the gun at Mallory with violently shaking hands.

“Misty, for God’s sake, put it down before you shoot someone,” Mallory told her. “It’s Mallory Russo…”

She heard the floorboards squeak as Misty drew near.

“Pick your head up so I can see your face.” Misty leaned over slightly, looked down at Mallory, and then raised her head.

“It’s her. The detective I told you about. She’s okay, Court.”

“Stand up.” The voice from behind Mallory ordered. “Get up slowly. Misty, give me the gun.”

“Courtney, I—”

“I said, give me the gun.”

“It’s okay,” Mallory turned to Misty. “Give it to her. Carefully, though. That’s not a toy.”

Misty passed the pistol to her sister.

“Courtney, I’m so glad you’re safe. You, too, Misty. Everyone is worried about you.”

The gun shook in Courtney’s unsteady hands.

“I’m here to help you. You and Ryan.” Mallory looked around the small space. “Where is Ryan?”

“She shot him.” Courtney’s eyes welled with tears. “She
shot
him.”

No need to ask who
she
was.

“Where is he?”

“In the little barn,” Courtney told her.

“Where is she?” Mallory asked.

“I don’t know.” Courtney shook her head.

“Is Ryan still alive?”

“I don’t know,” Courtney said.

Misty’s words came in a rush. “She had me and Courtney in the barn and Ryan came in and she turned around and she shot him and Courtney hit her with a rake and she fell and she started to get up and we ran…”

“Okay, okay.” Mallory reached for the gun. “I’m going to need to have that back now.”

Courtney handed it over without protest.

“There’s a detective here with me, he’s going…” She stopped in midsentence. “Shit.”

She remembered where Charlie had been headed.

“Stay here. Don’t—”

Two shots rang out.

“You stay here until I come back for you. Do not leave, hear?”

Both girls nodded silently. Mallory pushed open the door. She stepped outside into the bright sunlight, momentarily blinded. She heard another shot and ducked behind a rusted-out tractor that stood between the chicken house and the small barn.

She sat as still as possible and listened.

The shots were all contained inside the small barn, but who had fired them? Had any of those shots hit its mark? Which way in would be the safest?

She studied the building. There was a door on the second floor that most likely led to a hayloft, but there was no way to get to it. Crouching close to the ground, she ran to the back of the barn and tried the door she found there. It opened quietly. She held it in place for a moment, listening. When there was no sound from within, she opened it another inch or two and peered through. The door opened into a tack room. Saddles were slung over sawhorses, and several bridles hung from hooks on the wall. She slipped through the opening and crouched down, then crawled on her hands and knees to the opening that she suspected led into the rest of the barn.

Her back to the wall, she sat and listened for movement. She could hear the sound of deliberate footfalls on the straw floor, but they weren’t close. She crept around the corner, and fell over Ryan Corcoran’s body.

She sought a pulse and found one, stronger than she’d expected. At her touch, he opened his eyes, and she put a hand over his mouth.

“Shhh,” she told him, and pointed to the room beyond.

Ryan nodded slowly and reached for her hand.

“Where were you hit?” she asked.

He moved her hand to his abdomen, and her fingers touched the warm stickiness of his blood on his shirt. Her fingers felt the skin beneath the shirt, found the entry wound. While still bleeding, it wasn’t a steady flow, which she hoped was a good sign.

“Hang on, Ryan,” she whispered. “We’ll get you out as soon as we can.”

She opened her phone, hoping to find there was service, but the line was dead.

“Courtney…”

“She’s fine. She and Misty are fine. Now you hold on, okay?” She gave his hand a squeeze, then let go and began to inch along the floor behind a stack of hay bales.

“Oh, come on out and play,” Mallory heard a woman’s voice cooing. “Come on, big fella. Come on out.”

She peeked between a stack of bales and saw a thin woman with short spiky black hair standing in the center of the room, her legs spread wide, one hand on her hip. Mallory couldn’t see her other hand, but from the way it was extended, she knew it held a firearm, and she knew it was pointed at Charlie.

And since Charlie wasn’t shooting, she reasoned, he must have taken a hit.

Mallory had never imagined a time when she’d raise a gun to shoot someone in the back. She didn’t relish the thought, even if that someone was Regina Girard.

“Come on, I know you’re back there,” Regina taunted. “You can’t hide forever. You know I’m gonna find you.”

The woman fired at some farm equipment parked on the opposite side of the room, then laughed.

“I’m real good with this little baby, don’t think I’m not. I been practicing,” she said. “You’re a fun guy, you know, but I got other business to attend to here, so I’m just going to have to finish this now. Wish we had a little more time, I could show you just how much fun I can be.

“So we’re going on three here.” She walked slowly in Charlie’s direction, and the countdown began. “One…two…”

Mallory stood and took aim. Hearing her, Regina turned, the gun pointed directly at Mallory, who managed to fire off the first shot. She hit her target square in the chest, and the gun fell from Regina’s hand as she dropped to her knees on the dirt floor. Mallory came forward from the shadows and kicked Regina’s gun across the room, then knelt and felt for a pulse. The woman was still alive, but bloody foam was bubbling up at her lips.

“Charlie!” Mallory called.

Charlie was already walking toward her from at least twenty feet away from where Regina had aimed.

“What are you doing over there?” Mallory frowned. “I thought she was shooting at you over
here.
I thought you were wounded and she was getting ready to finish you off.”

“Guess I’m a better actor than I thought I was.” He looked down at Regina. Her eyes were open, but she wasn’t moving.

Mallory stared at Charlie. “I thought she was going to kill you.”

“If she could have, she would have.” He nodded. “No question.”

“She shot Ryan, left him for dead,” Mallory told him. “He’s still alive.” She searched her pocket for her phone, but her pockets were empty. “I must have dropped it. Didn’t get any reception anyway. See if you have better luck.”

He dialed and the call went right through.

“Ambulance is on its way.” He put an arm around her and drew her close, kissed her mouth. “I’m so glad you shot before she did. I don’t know what I’d have done if she’d shot first.”

“Neither do I.” She kissed him back, drinking in the feel of his lips. She pulled away long before she was satisfied. “We need to let Ryan know that the ambulance will be here soon. He’s scared out of his mind.”

“Where is he?”

“Back there, right outside the tack room.”