The Cat, the Mill and the Murder: A Cats in Trouble Mystery (30 page)

“Oh,” she said, sounding completely deflated.

“But he did tell Kara that Kay Ellen knew someone was entering the mill at night,” I said. “Sounds like she was a spunky girl who knew this person was trespassing.”

“And she could have confronted whoever it was and gotten herself killed for her trouble,” Candace said, her interest level suddenly rising again.

“But that’s not the only reason I called you. I just talked to Dustin Gray.” I went on to explain what he’d told me and her response was just as I expected.

“We’ve got to get in there,” she said. “If there’s money hidden between those walls, that could explain plenty—at least about the cold case. That girl could have seen something she shouldn’t. I’m calling Dustin right now.”

I told her I needed to be there in the morning, too, to feed the feral cats.

“Cats, huh?” she said. “I’m not buying it. You’re as curious as I am and I don’t blame you. Of course you can be there.”

I hung up and was about ready to go to bed, maybe read a little, when my phone rang.

“Did Dustin come over there?” Candace said.

“No. You couldn’t reach him?” I said.

“His phone goes to voice mail and when I called the Pink House, Laura said he left in a rush.”

“Uh-oh. He’s gone to the mill. He couldn’t wait,” I said.

“Yup, and he still has keys. I’m heading over there right now,” she said.

“You shouldn’t go alone,” I said. “We don’t know who’s been in there—who these people are Jeannie’s been telling us about.”

“Jillian, when you have a gun and you know how to use it, you’re never alone. I’ll let you know what I find over there. Who knows? Maybe the guy just went out for a drink.”

“In Mercy? On a weeknight?” I said. “We both know he’s over there.”

“And I’m on my way.” She disconnected.

But gun or no gun, she shouldn’t go to that creepy place in the dark alone. I tried Morris’s number. No answer. I thought about calling Mike Baca, but he might be upset with Candace for rushing out to the mill, so I called the most reliable person I knew—Tom.

After I told him the problem, he said, “I’m driving back right now from a job across the lake. Shouldn’t take me long to get there.”

“It’s not like she’ll be truly alone if Dustin is where we think he is,” I said. “I just worry.”

“I know,” he said. I could almost picture his smile.

“Sit tight and I’ll let you know what I find out,” he said.

But I wasn’t about to sit tight. I couldn’t. I went to my bedroom and changed into jeans and a sweatshirt—and out of the uncomfortable dress shoes. I was on my way to the mill within five minutes of my call to Tom.

I assumed Boots decided to stay and play at my house, because she didn’t appear in the van. When I arrived at the mill, I realized it seemed even more mysterious and eerie at night. Of course, not until I got to the locked gate did I realize I couldn’t get in. Candace’s RAV4 was parked here and so was Dustin’s Volkswagen, so the two of them were inside.

I started to call Candace’s cell and then realized there was no reception in there. I remembered the kitchen entrance
and how the neighbor Deborah had seen intruders using that door. I got back in the van and drove around the corner—it would have been quite a walk otherwise—and parked on that side street. Good thing I had my flashlight in the van; there were no streetlights on this side of the mill.

The area was fenced and no one had bothered to put a gate where the old driveway that led to the kitchen entrance began.
So how are trespassers getting beyond this barrier?

I trained the flashlight along the fence and it didn’t take long to find a place where the fence had been cut—or should I say newly
recut
. I noted a piece of fencing on the ground. Obviously the police had found this spot at some point and repaired it, but someone had come along after them and made sure they could get inside.
Not good
.

At that point I decided I’d been foolish to even show up here and started walking back to my van. I wasn’t about to pull apart an opening in the fence and crawl through the space, only to find a locked kitchen entrance. Besides, this place gave me the creeps.

I turned to leave when I saw someone clad in black. The person was standing near a large tree and had attempted to hide when I’d turned around.

My heart in my throat, I decided to pretend I hadn’t seen anyone. I had to get to my van and warn my friends inside that mill somehow.

I tried to act casual, walking, not running, as fast as I could to my van. As I did so, I pulled my phone from my pocket, but before I could press the number for Mercy PD, a gloved hand belonging to someone behind me covered my mouth. I felt a gun barrel press against my spine.

“If you stay quiet, I won’t kill you right here. You understand?” the man said.

I nodded.

He whirled me around and I stared into Ward Stanley’s eyes—just his eyes, because he wore a ski mask. But I recognized him immediately.

“Drop the flashlight and give me your phone.” He held out his free hand, keeping the gun aimed at my stomach.

I did as he told me. Handing my phone to him felt like letting go of a lifeline—but then I remembered that Tom was coming. He’d be here soon. And in the meantime, I had to make this man believe I didn’t recognize him.

“I don’t have any money with me,” I said, “but you can have the phone.”

“Do you think I’m stupid, Jillian?” He pocketed my phone and pulled off his mask. “You know damn well who you’re talking to.”

So much for plan A. I sure hope plan B gets here soon.
My hands had begun to shake—in fact I was trembling all over. “I—I don’t know what you want from me, but—”

“I want you to come with me.” He turned me back around and I felt the gun’s pressure again. “Walk right back to where you came from.”

I did as I was told, stumbling along the sidewalk in the dark. When I didn’t go fast enough, he shoved my shoulder.

“Hurry up,” he whispered harshly.

When we reached the spot in the fence where he’d cut the links, he peeled the aging fence back and told me to crawl through. If I’d had anything I could use as a weapon, even the flashlight he’d made me drop, I might have been able to smash him over the head when he came through the fence. But I had nothing—and I probably wouldn’t have succeeded in knocking him out anyway.

He’d probably been coming in and out of this mill for
years, looking for the money he and his mother believed was hidden inside. Thank goodness he didn’t know that I had friends in the building this very minute, not to mention a friend on the way. I clung to that thought. I had to.

When we reached the padlocked kitchen entrance, he pulled a key from his pocket. He made me stand to the left and kept the gun trained on me as he unlocked the door.

“Y-you have a key?” I blurted.

“Of course. All I had to do when the bank threw us out was change their padlock one night. Stupid suits thought a little lock would keep me out of my own mill? How dumb was that?” Once the door was open, he shoved me into a dark, frigid hallway.

From behind me, a beam of light came on and I realized he had a flashlight. I heard what I thought was the click of a deadbolt. He pointed his light straight ahead and said, “Walk. Now.”

I’d never made it to this part of the building when I was here before, but Shawn told me he’d placed one of the feral cat shelters in the kitchen and I would have to find it to fill the food bowls—in fact he’d tried to put one shelter in each room on the ground floor and several in the big area where the looms once stood. I wondered where the shelter was and if I’d run right into it. I could hardly see two feet in front of me.

“We’re going straight through this hallway, out the door and then to my father’s old office,” he said. “So keep going. Don’t try turning into the kitchen where you think you can hide.”

“But I can’t see anything.” I almost smiled, though. We were headed for Candace and Dustin—headed for safety.

I breathed a little easier as we made our way in the dark, our shoes thudding loudly on the wood floor. He
obviously had arrived here after Candace and Dustin, parked on a street in the village and then must have sneaked through the neighborhood to get to the back entrance. He hadn’t seen their cars.

“How did you know about the fence? About the back entrance?” he said as we walked.

“People in the neighborhood realize there have been trespassers and Jeannie and one of her neighbors—”

He shoved me—hard. “I’m no
trespasser
. Don’t you and the rest of this town get that?”

I’d made this already ticking time bomb of a man even angrier. I had to handle this situation better if I wanted to get to Candace and Dustin. “I-I’m sorry. You’re absolutely right. What happened to you and your mother was wrong. I know things have been difficult.”

“What do you know?” he said. “Bet you never watched your mother scrounge for pennies to get her nails done. Bet you never had to give up your Porsche and the only home you’d ever known because the government decided what was yours was now theirs.”

“And your reputation as a community leader as well,” I said over my shoulder. “I cannot imagine what you’ve been through.”

“Do you think I give a damn about Mercy? But you’re right. You can’t imagine what it’s like to live how my mother and I have to live now.” He didn’t sound less hostile despite the sympathetic tone I’d tried to offer. But then, he’d had more than a decade for his resentment to fester.

“If it means anything, I’m really sorry,” I said.

“Yeah, I’ll bet you are.” His voice was laced with sarcasm. “The door is about ten feet ahead of you. Put your hands out or you’ll run right into it.”

I did this and soon felt the nails and the splintered wood on the heavy old door beneath my fingers.

He said, “Find the bolt and slide it open. It’s rusty, so
put some strength behind it.” He pushed the gun harder against my backbone. “And don’t even think about running.”

I worked the lock open, saying, “The police bolted this room back up after they finished their search?”

“No, I did,” he said. “And they didn’t search hard enough, because if they’d found our assets, I would have heard about it. I’ll find our money, and my mother and I will be long gone before they ever find you.”

Find me?
A fresh fluttering in my stomach began. What if Candace and Dustin had left already? And what if Tom saw them come out and then called my house and figured I’d gone to bed? I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I couldn’t focus on the worst outcome. I had to stay positive if I wanted to get out of this alive.

The door squeaked after he ordered me to open it and I was relieved at being inches closer to safety.

But when I saw lights from the halogens casting a faint glow in the hallway up ahead, I wanted to run toward it—because I knew Stanley had seen it, too.

“The police must have forgotten to turn out the lights when they left,” I said.

But then we both heard a scraping sound echo down the hall. Dustin or Candace had probably moved that desk to get to the false wall. My stomach clenched.

Stanley grabbed my arm and yanked me back into the kitchen.

“Lock the door,” he said, his voice strained with frustration and anger.
“Now.”

My only hope now was that I’d closed the door loudly enough that Candace heard. After all, the sound of what
they
were doing in the office had traveled down the hall, so the reverse should be true. They must have heard the door. They
had
to have heard the door.

Meanwhile, Stanley was coming unglued. Now that my eyes were used to the dark, I watched as he paced back and forth in front of me, his flashlight moving like a candle in front of him. He’d placed his hand with the gun on top of his head.

“Got to think, got to think,” he said.

Then I heard a sound I loved—footsteps coming down the hallway beyond the door. Candace called, “Who’s in there?”

Stanley grabbed me then. “Out the way we came. And you’d better move fast or I’ll shoot you right here and now.”

But just as we reached the back door, someone knocked loudly on
that
door.

“Jillian? Are you in there?” Tom shouted.

He’d seen my car.

I cried out, “Yes. I’m here. Stanley has a gun.”

Ward Stanley’s forearm made contact with my cheek and knocked me to the floor. He pointed the flashlight at
me and said, “You shut up. You’re a hostage now and you’d better be a smart one.”

I nodded, tasting blood in my mouth.

“Get up. We’re moving away from these doors so I can think.” He motioned with the gun toward the kitchen that I’d seen off the hallway we were in.

I got on my knees, my head still ringing from the blow to my jaw. I’d never been hit by a grown man, a strong, desperate man on a mission. I stood slowly, feeling dizzy, but turned around and walked into the kitchen. I paused at the entrance, squinting into the darkness.

Then he focused his small light on the room. I could make out tables in the center, long counters lining every wall. I saw the sinks and the spot where appliances had probably stood. But now the space was occupied by what looked like the cat shelter.

He started mumbling as he swept his light around the room, saying, “Got to tie her up somehow. Got to find string—something.”

He ordered me to the farthest corner and started opening cabinets. Meanwhile, I could hear Tom’s voice—it was so faint and seemed so far away. He was calling my name. Pounding on the door. I could also hear Candace—it had to be her—trying to get the other door open.

A frazzled Stanley stopped what he was doing and said, “You tell them all to shut up or I’ll blow your head off.”

He marched me to the door that led to the rest of the mill first. “Tell them I have you and that I have demands before I’ll let you go.”

“Candace,” I called, “is that you?”

“Jillian? What are you doing in there?” she shouted back.

“You have to back off. Ward Stanley has a gun on me,” I said, finding it difficult with such a shaky voice to make sure she could hear me.