Tattered Legacy (A Nora Abbott Mystery) (24 page)

thirty-four

The confidence and power
that had rushed through Warren earlier seeped away, leaving him frail. He huddled in the passenger seat of his Caddy, coughing and wheezing, fighting for every breath. His body burned with fever and he’d shed his expensive toupee hours ago, even though he hated for Abigail to see him bald.

He longed to give up, let his earthly body finally rest. But Warren knew God expected him to keep going. He had prepared a reward for Warren and he needed to show strength of spirit and mind. God hadn’t made Warren’s path easy, but He’d always rewarded him. He couldn’t succumb to weakness now that the end grew near.

Abigail leaned forward over the steering wheel, peering into the inky night. The wipers slapped at high speed. She squinted. “I can’t see anything.”

He labored for breath. “Keep a light hand on the wheel. God will guide us.”

She tightened her lips. “I’ve had enough of your God and His ridiculous plans. You’re crazy. You’ve always been nuts, since the first moment we met you.” She looked like his Abigail—the sweet, happy young girl without a harsh word—but she sounded more like Christine, who, despite having every advantage, felt disappointed with what life had given her.

“What happened to you to make you so hard?” he asked.

She frowned. “I had to get hard in a hurry. It’s not easy to survive a rape, lose my dearly beloved husband, and raise a baby on my own.”

He pushed himself to sit. “I loved you.”

She said nothing, but her jaws clenched. Eventually she spoke. “Your nephew said Nora would be at the cabin?”

“She was on her way back from the reservation.”

The rear of the Caddy fishtailed so she pulled her foot off the accelerator and coaxed the steering wheel in the opposite direction. They righted and she pressed the gas pedal. “You’re sure?”

“My nephew wouldn’t lie,” he assured her.

He grabbed a plastic grocery bag and leaned over to wretch. Specks of blood and a tiny stream of foamy bile oozed from his heaving belly. His throat burned and his abdominal muscles ached with effort, but his stomach contained little. He heaved again, the sweat puddling in his armpits and filming his cold face.

He fell back on the seat and pushed the button to roll down the window. Warren forced the nearly empty bag through it and it was swept away by the rush of wind and rain. He rolled up the window and lay panting.

“What are you going to do with Nora?”

More questions. He closed his eyes, the effort it took to speak exhausting him. “I want to see her.”

“You’ve already seen her.”

He heard the weakness in his own voice. “I want to see her with the eyes of a father.”

“You aren’t her father. And even if you were, she wouldn’t do what you want her to do.”

He opened his eyes. “And what do you think I want her to do?”

She didn’t take her eyes from the road or loosen her grip on the wheel. “I don’t know. Take over your businesses? Be some grand poobah of the Mormon Church? I can’t imagine what you want with her, but I know Nora and she won’t have anything to do with you.”

“I can offer her more than wealth,” he began.

She frowned again. “It doesn’t matter. I told her what you did to me.”

Warren had been dragged through every bit of muck throughout his very public life. When a person acquired as much success as he had, it made him an easy target for resentment. Yet, no accusation hurt him the way Abigail’s lies now ripped at his heart. The daughter he longed to see hadn’t been conceived in anger or by force. Why couldn’t Abigail realize that?

She slowed to a crawl and leaned so far forward her nose practically rested on the dash. She turned the wheel and they started up the road to Castle Valley. “Oh. Oh.” She sounded so distressed Warren pulled himself up on the seat to see what was going on. He strained to see through the darkness outside his rain-streaked window, but finally he understood.

The valley below roiled and raged in a flash flood. What was once a peaceful sprawl of scraggly trees and homes was now a vengeful river, the red of the mud lightening the water so the flood’s violence was even more obvious in the moonless night.

Abigail drove along the road to the turnoff that led down to Castle Valley. Of course, the road had been washed away. “The cabin … ” It sounded like she wanted to say more but couldn’t form words.

He gripped the door handle and fought the terror pooling in the pit of his stomach. God wouldn’t give him a daughter only to take her away at the last minute. Be calm and believe.

Abigail gasped. She pointed down the road where the headlights caused the raindrops to spark in the reflected glow. He squinted and saw a figure staggering in the rain. He reached for the glove box to pull out the gun he kept there. He prayed it was Nora but needed to prepare for the worst.

Abigail shoved her door open and scrambled into the storm, running toward the person. What if it was a looter or someone intending to harm them? A second passed before Warren identified it as a man making his slow progress in their direction. Warren gripped the dash as the man came into focus. Darrell.

This didn’t feel right. He expected Lee, but hoped to see Rachel. He prayed Nora was safe. But he didn’t know Darrell was out here.

Warren closed his eyes and summoned strength. There was so little left. His deepest desire was to lie down and stop fighting, let the good Lord have mercy on him and take him home. But it wasn’t his time yet. First he needed to leave the kingdom in good hands. He pushed the door open. It felt like a stone blocking the entrance to a tomb. His legs shook trying to support his own meager weight, but he forced his feet to move. The rain dripped onto his bald head, cooling his fever but chilling him so that his teeth chattered.

Darrell shifted his focus from Abigail. Warren expected the man to rush to his side at the frail state of his leader. Instead, he waited as Warren staggered into the peripheral glow of the headlights.

Darrell’s shirt clung to his chest, the tattered sleeves rippling in the wind. Blood and mud dripped from long scratches on his arms and his face was peppered with scrapes and bruises.

The storm was losing steam, but the flood continued roaring. The frenzied water surged past with destructive energy.

“Where’s Nora?” Warren managed to ask.

Darrell’s shoulders slumped as he looked at the ground. “I don’t know. Rachel and Lee had her when the house collapsed. I only hope she survived.”

Abigail gasped. “Oh my God! She’s trapped in the flood?”

“I tried to save her. We would have been safe if we’d stayed in the house, even though it was badly damaged. But after Lee was injured, Rachel forced Nora into the water.”

“Lee is injured? How bad?” Warren needed Lee. The colony needed his survivalist instincts, his faith, his intimate knowledge of the plan.

Darrell dropped his shoulders even more, his face a picture of sorrow. “I wish I didn’t have to tell you this. But I shot Lee.”

Abigail let out an alarmed gasp.

Warren stepped back a few paces to lean on the Caddy.

“He had Nora and he planned to kill her. I knew you needed Nora to carry on your legacy. There was no other way.”

The firm grasp Warren had on the plan, the future, slipped from his fingers. Everything was spinning out of control. “You’re brothers, a team. Together you were going to lead the faithful. You’ve always been my sons!”

Darrell’s head shot up. “None of that is true. Now that you have a true heir, you plan on leaving it all to her.”

Warren’s knees buckled and he rested his bony rear on the bumper as the rain streamed down his face.

Darrell stepped forward, following the beam of light toward Warren. “Not brothers. Half-brothers. You know what that’s like, don’t you, Uncle Warren?”

Abigail stared at Darrell’s sudden transformation. Warren should have known Darrell would break under the pressure. He usually had perfect instincts with people. But somehow he’d missed Darrell’s weakness. And now his nephew was turning on him.

Darrell’s feet sloshed in the muddy road as he continued his rant. “To be the son whose mother is not the favorite. The ugly mother. The one with the harsh tongue. The mother whose only son is kicked out when he’s fourteen because there’s only room for the favorite son at the homestead.”

How could the situation be unraveling like this? “I took care of you. You never had to go through what I did. I paid for your college and law school and got you the best clerk positions. I helped you.”

“Why? Was it because you loved me? Because you wanted what was best for me?”

Warren’s skin burned and his eyes felt like flames. He wouldn’t be able to hold his head up much longer.

Thinly contained rage packed Darrell’s words. “It was because you needed me! Someone you could groom to follow in your insane footsteps. A captain to lead your troops and keep your crazy plan secret.”

“Not crazy.”

“I did keep it secret, though. I did everything you wanted. Did you know that on the morning I dealt with Lisa, Lee was on his way to save her? If I hadn’t gotten there first, he would have helped her escape and she would have exposed you.”

Warren struggled to maintain his breath. “Maybe she didn’t need to die.”

Darrell hardly paused. “I even played nice with Brother Lee and his disgusting family. Oh, you helped me with your contacts and a little money. But you could have done so much more. You never claimed me as you own.”

Warren wretched into the mud, a thin string of blood dribbling from his lips before splashing into the road. “Couldn’t.”

“Right.” Sarcasm soured Darrell’s voice. “The polygamy. Can’t let anyone know you came from that. You can cover up the past and help the young man of a single mother, but you can’t admit he’s from your family rooted in polygamy.”

“What did you want?” Warren managed to ask.

“Money!” Darrell yelled into the night. “You have millions—
billions, some say. And yet you couldn’t buy me an election? Couldn’t get me a decent car? Couldn’t build Lee and his tribe a house? You stingy bastard.”

“I needed it for … ” Warren was interrupted by another heave.

“For the plan. Building the bunker. Stocking it. Buying silence.” Darrell watched Warren raise his arm in slow motion to wipe the blood from his chin. It was clear he was in pain. “But it’s not all gone. I know. Even a lunatic like you couldn’t spend it all. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know this whole thing is a joke.”

No. Darrell believed. He had to believe. He’d killed Lisa Taylor to protect the plan.

“There is no space ship. There is no mystic connection with the Hopi and they won’t be coming in two days to take the faithful.”

Warren tried to lift his head to explain but he couldn’t raise his chin from his chest.

“So the faithful will wait and when nothing happens, they’ll know you lied to them.”

Darrell stood in front of Warren, but Warren couldn’t raise his eyes to see Darrell’s face. He focused on the red mud caked on Darrell’s shoes and the filth clinging to his dripping jeans. With slow, deliberate movements, Darrell slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out a pistol.

“Rachel and Nora will die in the flood. Lee is probably still in the cabin, dead. You’re not going to last long and neither is she.” He wagged his gun at Abigail. “No one is left to expose me.”

Warren felt the shame of begging. “No. Please.”

“And you know that will I prepared for you? The one you signed? I changed it after the fact.” With feigned gratitude, he said, “You really shouldn’t have been so generous to leave me what’s left of your estate. Minus a small stipend for Christine, of course.”

He’d failed. His life’s work had crumbled in the grip of the evil man in front of him. The space ships would come, but the pilgrims couldn’t get to them. Lee, his one faithful nephew, lay dead. His daughter, too—he’d never speak to her, never hold her.

Betrayed. Like his brother Jesus, Warren longed to cry out, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”

Mud splashed as he heard the sound of footsteps. Good. He hoped Abigail was trying to escape.

But Darrell took a few strides then lunged, pinning Abigail to his chest with one arm. Warren prayed for the strength to protect her. He prayed God would listen to him, recognize the voice of his faithful servant, and grant him one last request. He needed to save her, the woman he had always loved. Just long enough to give her a name she’d know. The name to listen for when he called her across the veil.

God didn’t allow them to share this life, but surely He would grant them eternal life on their own planet. This had to be why He’d brought Abigail to him at this last moment.
God please. I’m trying. Please help.

Thirty-Five

Nora’s head plunged under
the frothing wave of muddy water. She strained her neck, lifting her mouth to the air and filling her lungs. Grit choked her but she was able to breathe before dunking underneath the water and flipping herself over. Her spine scraped the desert floor and snagged on roots and branches. Sharp talons scratched at her face and the water tumbled debris against her to batter every part of her body.

She quickly lost contact with Rachel. She could only hope the surging water wouldn’t drown them or smash them against a boulder or fence post and break them in two. The crushing pace of the water didn’t diminish, but Nora choked back panic to form a plan. She dragged her rear on the sand, head pointed downstream. The water gushed around her chin and lapped into her mouth when she sucked a breath. She coughed and stretched herself flat so she could float along the surface. Kicking her legs and paddling with her hands, she worked her way to what she hoped was the north side of the flow.

The cold water penetrated her skin. If she stayed in the water much longer, she’d risk hypothermia. She lifted her head and opened her mouth for another gulp of air.

Nora couldn’t see in the blackness that surrounded her, but the water felt more shallow here. She planted her hands in the sand behind her, with her feet out in front of her. She struggled but held her own against the current. Ten seconds ago, she hadn’t been able to resist the deluge as it carried her toward destruction. She kept maneuvering herself to the shallower water, assuming she’d eventually reach the edge of the flood.

Nora pushed against the thick water, positioning her legs under her in a squat. Still facing the current, she resisted with her hands and legs, the water now to her knees and shoulders. Centering her weight, she stood and started to plow out of the main current. Planting her feet one step at a time, she made her way out of the river of muck. The rain had tapered to a few drops and the wind, while strong enough to make her teeth chatter with the cold, wasn’t shrieking in her ears.

The black night closed around her as she felt her way around, sloshing in the ankle-deep mud, hoping she was headed for the bank that led to the road. She’d been tossed and tumbled so much she couldn’t tell if she walked east or west.

Had Rachel made it? Maybe she shouldn’t be so concerned with the fate of a woman who intended to kill her. But Nora didn’t want to write Rachel off as an evil murderer just yet.

She kept picturing Rachel and Lisa together. A person couldn’t fake the light in their eyes when their lover unexpectedly entered the room. Rachel never ignored an opportunity to touch Lisa and that kind of unconscious affection was hard to manufacture. Sure, people fall out of love. But that didn’t lead to murder. Earlier, when Rachel spoke to Lee about Lisa, she had had the tone of a woman deeply in love.

The darkness in front of her solidified into the bank leading to the road. Saturated as it was, Nora struggled to climb. Her feet slid and she scraped her chin on the gravel and clay. Slowly, she crawled onto the road. Nora spotted lights about a quarter of a mile away. Headlights, she realized. Someone was out here and it meant help, warmth, and shelter.

She wanted to run, but her legs were too weak and she shivered so violently she did well just to keep moving, however slowly. She began to make out shapes in the headlights the closer she trudged. One very large person stood in the middle of the spotlight. It looked like another sat on the bumper. A few steps closer. The large person turned out to be two people standing close together, one holding the other up. An arm extended from the two person group.

Nora slowed her turtle-like pace and listened. “There is still time for you to do the right thing.”

Oh my god. Abigail
.

The dripping man holding her mother jerked her closer to him. “The right thing is that I get my reward for the humiliation and slave labor I’ve given him all my life.”

Nora slid down the embankment so she could hide her approach, but kept her focus on the figures in the headlights. She crawled through the mud, her fingers numb and her teeth clenched against her trembling.

Darrell?

Darrell pointed his gun at the man slumped against the bumper. Warren. He didn’t raise his head. His knees melted and he plopped into a puddle, whacking his head against the bumper.

The man who’d warned her against going to the cops. He’d told her he was taking care of Lee and Rachel. He had the gun trained on Warren. That was good. But he also threatened Abigail. Definitely not good.

Darrell lowered his gun. “You’re finally getting what you deserve. Dying in the mud. How appropriate for the tenth richest man in the world.” Darrell looked down at Abigail. “Come on.” He jerked his head toward the bank and Nora ducked. “I think there’s still enough water for a tragic drowning.”

Had he heard her? Her heart hammered and she held her breath. Nora heard a scuffle in the mud and she poked her head above the rim of the bank. Darrell yanked Abigail toward the side of the road, only twenty feet from where Nora hid.

Abigail fought against him. “What do you hope to gain by this?”

“Your silence.” He grunted in effort as he dragged her along.

“Even if I’m gone, Rachel and Nora will stop you.”

“Rachel’s had her chance. And Nora isn’t going to make it through the night.”

He succeeded in getting Abigail to the lip of the bank, but she didn’t make it easy. Nora crouched well within his peripheral vision, but between the darkness and his struggle with Abigail, he didn’t notice.

“I’m sure Nora has already called the cops.” Abigail sounded strong for the fight.

“They won’t help her. Most of them are packing their bags to join the faithful in the bunker.”

Abigail freed one arm and swung her hand up to smack his face, but he dodged the blow. Nora waited until he had one foot down the bank, throwing off his center of gravity and making him unstable. She pushed off the thick mud to hurl herself at Darrell and send him sailing down the bank. But the mud sucked at her feet and she never got off the ground.

Her foot slipped and she tumbled backward, sliding down the bank with a grunt. Darrell spun toward her, pulling Abigail with him. She lost her footing and shoved against Darrell. They toppled forward into the steep embankment. The turbulent water rushed below them.

Darrell lost his grip on Abigail and she rolled down the bank toward the flood. She wasn’t as strong as Nora and she’d be swept away.

“Mother!” Nora’s hands sank into the saturated hillside. She shoved with her feet, propelling herself toward Abigail. Abigail stopped rolling ten feet above the waves. Slathered in mud, she blended with the bank. She twisted her head up and Nora swore she could read panic in her eyes, though it was impossible to tell in the dark.

“Hang on!” Nora yelled.

Lightning flashed, with a crack of thunder following. The rain resumed, falling in solid sheets. Darrell pushed himself to his knees as he raised his gun toward Abigail.

The slight ledge that had stopped Abigail’s fall began to break loose and slide into the rampaging water. Abigail screamed and flailed her arms, looking for anything to grab hold of.

Nora didn’t have time to think things through. She could either lunge for Abigail and hold her on the bank, letting Darrell get a shot off in close range, or dive for Darrell and leave Abigail to save herself.

Flash! Boom!

Abigail screamed. Her feet slid in slow motion and brushed the edge of the water. She slapped at the muddy bank, her fingers clawing at air.

Rain battered at them, carving mini-culverts of icy water in the bank. A deluge of liquid mud ran down Nora’s face and into her mouth as she fought to stand. In one fluid motion, Nora dove headfirst down the bank, her arm outstretched and her eyes focused on Abigail’s frantically waving hand. She smacked into the mud, her fingers closing around air. Her mother’s hand was just out of reach and slipping further away by the second.

Nora laid her head down, the rush of the flood splashing into her eyes and mouth. Abigail’s legs kicked in the water as Nora saw her slide in past her knees. Her mother’s sharp shriek sent lightning through Nora’s veins and she scrambled through the mud, desperate to feel her mother’s flesh. Nora had to concentrate in order to move her arms, legs, feet, and hands. The mud dragged on them, making them feel like leaden attachments instead of her own flesh and blood.

She inched forward. Abigail slid another foot as the bank gave way beneath her hips. “No!” Not knowing or caring where she got the strength, Nora lunged forward and this time, she felt the grasping answer of her mother’s fingers close on hers. Nora braced her free hand underneath her body and pulled backward. At first, they remained mired in the muck, the rain stinging against their skin. Nora gritted her teeth and doubled her effort.

Darrell’s bullet would rip into her any second. She’d die drenched in mud, never seeing Cole’s face again. Abigail would slide into the torrent, not possessing the strength to fight it.

Slowly, though, they moved up the bank, fighting for each inch until Abigail’s feet were no longer submerged in the swirling river.Nora struggled into a sitting position, hauling Abigail to her and hugging her close. Abigail gasped and sobbed and flung her arms around Nora. The mud made it feel like a sandpaper embrace, but the love flowed strong. She knew this would be their last hug and tried to shield Abigail with her body.

Darrell stood above them on the bank. His arm held the gun steady, aimed at Nora. Why hadn’t he shot them while they struggled on the bank?

He shook his head. “Nice rescue. But it won’t save you. You should have let her drown. Now I’ll have to break her neck to look like she died from flood injuries.”

“You have experience with that,” she yelled at him, desperate to keep him talking until she could figure out how to stop him.

“I didn’t enjoy killing Lisa. I offered her a compromise and lots of money. But she had her principles.”

“Maybe my mother and I are less principled.” Nora kept her voice above the noise of the storm.

“I will not … ” Abigail started to say. Nora tightened her arm around her and cut off the rest.

“Liar.” He steadied the gun and took a deep breath.

This was it. The bullet would rip into her heart. She thrust Abigail behind her and squeezed her eyes shut.

The shot rang in her ears.

She waited for the shock to wear off and the pain to hit.

She inhaled her last breath.

And waited.

“Oh, thank god!” Abigail cried.

Nora opened her eyes.

Darrell lay face down in the mud. His gun arm extended above his head, the gun flung down the slope.

Nora’s eyes moved up the bank.

Warren stood on the edge of the road. His head hung down on a neck too weak to keep it up, and his eyes were closed. His arm was limp at his side, a gun dangling from his finger. A second later, it dropped into a puddle with a splash. He opened his eyes and found Nora with what appeared to be grueling effort. His lips moved as pinkish foam bubbled from his mouth. He sank to his knees, his mouth still opening and closing.

Maybe it was the rain or maybe tears streamed down his face. He finally croaked one word.

“Daughter.”

He folded in on himself and splashed onto the road.