The Deposit Slip (34 page)

Marcus couldn’t wait any longer. Another day had passed since he’d spoken with Proctor. He knew that the man said only to call with emergencies. But three days until trial and still nothing had happened.

He pressed Proctor’s number.

The sound of a car engine was audible in the background as the man answered—but otherwise, there was only silence.

“Proctor?”

“What’s the emergency.”

“I . . . I’ve got to know when this is going to happen.”

“It’s happening tonight.”

It was what he wanted to hear, but Marcus was staggered at the words.

“You’re sure?”

“The farmer’s moving tonight. I’m cleanup.”

Marcus, still dazed, asked, “And what am I to do?”

“I told you. You do everything just the same way you’ve been doing it. Nothing changes tonight.
Do not call again
.”

Keeping his eyes riveted on the vague outlines of the road, Richard pulled out his phone and punched in Jared’s number. The phone rang several times before Jared’s voice answered.

“Mr. Neaton, I’ve been trying to find the Larson farm but haven’t had any luck. The visibility is so poor that I think I’m going back to Ashley to find my motel.”

“Okay. That’s fine. We can talk tomorrow.”

Richard paused. He knew how absurd his sensibilities sometimes sounded to people—and this one probably more than most.

“Is that it, Richard?” Jared asked. “I’ve got to stay focused on the road right now.”

“Well . . . Mr. Neaton . . . I did see something odd a few minutes ago that I thought I should tell you about.”

“Okay. But please make it quick.”

“I came across a truck in a ditch. I think I saw the truck in town earlier, near the Ashley Legion Hall. It appears to be a hunter, and he’s left the truck.”

“Mm-hmm.” Jared’s voice sounded distracted. How did Richard explain what was troubling him, especially when he was so uncertain of what it was himself.

“Well, I saw a car around the Legion Hall as well—and I think I just passed that car on the road.”

“Okay . . . where are you?”

Richard shrugged, then answered, “I don’t know. But where I saw the truck, I think it was not very far from Erin’s farm.”

“Wait a minute. Richard, I’ve got to call you back. The road’s too slippery. I’ll call you as soon as I get to Erin’s place.”

The line went dead before Richard could reply. He set the phone down to concentrate on staying on the road.

As vague as his impressions were, this one was sticking with him. He considered turning back, but what good would that do? He was almost to Ashley now, and he didn’t even know where the Larson farm was.

He’d just have to wait for Jared to call back and try to explain himself more clearly.

“Erin, could you grab that note file?” Jessie asked, pointing toward a box on the sofa. “Yep, that one. Thanks.”

It was closing in on eight o’clock, and Jessie was starting to get worried. The wind had died down, but through the window she could still see the soft cloud of descending snow. With the temperature dropping, it would cover the icy roads like a trap. She had forced herself not to call so far, but this was getting to be too much. She looked around, saw her cell phone on the table near the staircase, crossed the room, and started to press Jared’s number.

What was that sound? Jessie stopped and turned to the quizzical look on Erin’s face. She’d heard it too. Like wood being forced in a stuck door or window.

Erin’s mouth was open, but she remained silent.

“I don’t think any animal would make that sound,” Jessie said.

There it was again. It was hard to locate, but Jessie thought it came from the side of the house nearest the hillside.

“I think we should—” Erin began. Her words were lost in a crescendo of shattering glass.

“Oh . . .” Jessie forced through a closed throat, her stomach plummeting.

“The basement,” Erin whispered, and Jessie could see fear glazing her eyes.

Jessie walked quickly to the fireplace. She extended a hand toward an iron—then realized she was fumbling in the dark.

The lights were out.

It felt like driving on a skating rink, the ice painted white. His phone buzzed, and Jared dug it out of his pocket. He kept his eyes fixed on the highway ahead of him as he pushed the answer button.

“Yeah.”

“
Jared
” came a hoarse whisper. Was it Jessie? “
Someone’s in the basement. Jared, where are you
?”

Jared’s hands grew slick. “Jessie, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know. Someone broke in and the lights are out.
” The fear in her voice gripped his chest.

“Where are you now?”

“The living room.”

“Call the police, Jessie. I’m only a mile away. Then get out of there and call back.”

“
Okay. Please, Jared, hurry.
”

Jessie found Erin’s hand in the darkness, felt the quaking fingers and heard her stifling a whimper. Pressing her lips to Erin’s ear, she whispered, “
Quiet.
”

She led Erin toward the kitchen entrance, then stopped. Cory was asleep upstairs.

Cory. They were probably looking for Cory.

Jessie located Erin’s other hand and slipped the fireplace iron into her fingers. She led them both back to the fireplace, fumbling around the mantel until she found the fireplace tool stand and grabbed another heavy iron for herself.

Think.
The steps to the basement were on the far side of the kitchen, away from the living room entryway.

She listened. No sound came from that direction.

They had to get Cory before they fled the house. Erin’s arm felt rigid as Jessie led her toward the staircase leading upstairs. With another whispered “Quiet” in Erin’s ear, Jessie started up the wooden steps with gentle steps.

A banister lined the upstairs hallway surrounding the staircase. Jessie groped for it in the dark, then followed its contours to the upstairs landing before heading left in the direction of the front corner room where Cory would be sleeping tonight.

Erin’s hand was wet with moisture. Or maybe it was Jessie’s own hand. She held the fingers tighter.

They reached the door and Jessie felt for the knob in the dark—turned it carefully, opening the door into the black space beyond. In the stillness of the open room, Jessie could hear Cory’s gentle breathing and see the silver shadow of her form in bed. Still grasping Erin’s moist hand, they crept across the room until the soft edge of a pillow brushed Jessie’s hand.

She knelt near the sound of the hushed breaths and whispered, “
Cory
.” No response. Jessie leaned closer and once more hoarsely whispered, “
Cory
.”

“WHAT,” Cory called out, startled, and Jessie slid a hand across her lips.

The darkness was a chasm of silence in the wake of Cory’s outburst. Three seconds passed. Five. Then Jessie heard the thump of a heavy footfall on the wooden stairs below.

He grasped the wheel hard in both hands, pushing down on the accelerator. The back of the car fishtailed. He turned into the skid, eased off the pedal, tried again.

Jared explained Jessie’s call to Carlos through a haze of adrenaline and fear. His mind ached at the creeping pace of each painstaking yard of snow-covered road.

Just ahead Jared saw the driveway, but it was on him too soon. He slammed the brakes, felt the car spinning toward the ditch. He fought the slide, pumping the brakes like a piston. The spin slowed, the car sliding sideways across the road . . . easing, easing—then stopping at an angle somewhere near the edge of the far ditch.

Jared slammed the car into first gear, pressing the accelerator. The wheels started to spin. He lifted the accelerator, then tried again, more slowly.
Please move.
The car began to inch forward.

Twenty yards away, the headlights splayed over the driveway entrance they’d slid past, almost indistinguishable from the surrounding snow. He turned the CR-V onto it and began the drive to the house.

The winds had decreased for the time being, but the rate of snowfall was increasing and the headlamps lit a waterfall of solid white. He flipped the lights to Low, revealing the road more clearly, and strained to recall the gentle curves of the driveway as it approached the house.

The house was ahead of them, rising out of the wall of blowing snow, looking abandoned against the dark sky and surrounding white. No lights lit the windows.

Only now did it strike him—Jessie hadn’t called back.