The Sleuth Sisters (22 page)

Chapter Forty-seven

Retta

The road was shiny with rain, and headlights of approaching cars blurred in the mist. We passed several vehicles heading into town, but saw no one heading out.

“I don’t know what she’d be doing out here.” I was due at the school in an hour, and I wondered if we were being silly, hunting down a grown woman who could come home for supper or not, as she chose. Faye was having none of it.

“WOZ Industries is this way.”

“Yeah, but everyone’s gone home by now, and it’s a little early for teenage lovers.”

The Pit was known for what the kids called “watching the submarine races on Lake Huron.” Apparently they raced late every night.

“There!” Faye’s voice startled me. Walking along the road was a couple sharing an umbrella and three bags of groceries. “Stop! Maybe they’ve seen her.”

I pulled over, and Faye rolled down the window. “Did a ’57 Chevy go by here?”

“Sweet car,” said the young man, who was damp around the edges of his U of M sweatshirt. “We saw it on our way into town, a couple of hours ago.”

“It went down Pit Lane,” the girl said. Her sweatshirt was drier, since she held the umbrella. The sleeves hung over her hands and the band reached her knees. His spare, no doubt.

We thanked them and went on. I turned onto Pit Lane, driving slowly so Faye could peer down the trails and sideroads. We went all the way to the WOZ entrance, where the guard at the shack stepped out, pulling a slicker over his head as he came.

“Ladies? What can I do for you?”

“Have you seen a woman in an old Chevy?”

“Why, no. Everybody’s gone for the day.”

Faye looked disappointed as I turned the car around and started back. The guard retreated to his shelter, waving as he disappeared. “Now what?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Drive slowly, and I’ll keep an eye out.”

Chapter Forty-eight

Barb

We entered the woods, moving away from the gaping hole on our right. The Pit was huge, running for at least half a mile, and the fence that lined it ran close to the road for the convenience of construction and maintenance crews. We were on a small promontory that ended somewhere ahead at what had been the original viewing point. We’d come there as kids in the days when such things were protected only by a wooden railing and a sign that advised caution. I shuddered, remembering that I’d once climbed the fence and leaned over to tease Faye, laughing as she begged me to come away from the sheer drop.

Behind me Gabe moved in an almost catatonic state. Faced with death, he wasn’t thinking; he was merely doing as he was told. When the trail turned again, I dropped my third and final tissue.

DuBois held the ridiculously small flashlight I kept in my car, lighting the ground just in front of us. He stayed centered behind Gabe and me, one hand holding the gun and the other the light. I told myself I should run, but there was nowhere to go. The cyclone fence, somewhere to the left, was six feet high. I might run smack into it in the dark and knock myself senseless. Even if I didn’t, I’d never be able to scale it before DuBois caught up with me. Anywhere else I went would lead to exactly what he wanted, a fall over the edge to my death.

Chapter Forty-nine

Faye

“There!” My voice sounded loud in Retta’s car, which has that sealed-like-a-can-of-tuna quietness inside. “There’s someone at the viewing point.”

I’d seen only a flash of white, but when she backed the car up a little, my heart started pounding. “It’s the Chevy.”

She backed up some more and pulled into the parking area. Barb’s car was at the far end, up against the trees. Going down Pit Lane, it had been invisible from the road, but on our return, the white on the back fender showed just enough for me to spot it.

“Look!” Retta pointed to the opposite end of the open area. Harder to see due to its color was a dark Ford Ranger pickup, parked sideways so that it nestled under the trees.

Retta shut off the engine. “What do you think’s going on?”

I had no idea. Barbara had her late-night outings, and I had no idea what she did. I couldn’t imagine, however, that she’d come to meet a secret lover at the Pit.

Getting out, we went to the Chevy, which was unlocked and unoccupied. We skirted it and found nothing. Rain, now steady and stronger than before, was rapidly obscuring the footprints around it, and it was even harder to see them in the light of Retta’s key-chain flashlight. Disgusted, I said, “We should each keep an emergency kit in our cars.”

“Oh!” Retta scurried away, and soon the dome lights of her SUV revealed her digging in the well at the back. Closing the door softly, she hurried back with a black knapsack in hand. “Don insisted I have one,” she whispered. “I’ve never used it, and I forget it’s in there.”

The bag contained a decent flashlight and a pack of unopened C batteries. With a silent prayer they weren’t too old to work, I loaded the flashlight and tried it. A strong, bright beam of light rewarded my effort. Along with that was an umbrella, a candle for heat, some matches, a lighter, a bundle of flares, a small blanket, some MREs (army-style Meals, Ready to Eat) and two bottles of water. I handed the bag to Retta. “I’ll be right back.”

At the viewing point the footprints were clearer, since the trees sheltered the ground a little from the rain. A large pair of shoes with no visible tread, a slightly smaller pair with heavy tread, and a small pair with light tread that I thought were Barb’s. Following them about twenty feet, I found a hole in the fence just large enough for a person to crawl through.

I stood frowning into the darkness. In unguarded moments, my sons had mentioned parties at the Pit. They’d laughed at WOZ Industries’ efforts to keep them away from the dangerous dropoff. “They put up a fence,” Jimmy once said scornfully, “we cut a hole. They fix the hole, we make another one.”

Obviously, this was the hole that led to what they called Party City. Was I mistaken? Had these footprints been made by a trio of teenagers out for a few thrills along the edge of the Pit? I almost turned to go, but something white stopped me. Caught in one of the diamond-shaped holes formed by the wire, a tissue fluttered. It was damp but not soaked, so it hadn’t been there long. Someone had gone through the hole in the fence fairly recently, someone who always had pockets full of tissues.

“What do you see?”

I jumped as Retta spoke at my elbow. “Barb went through there.”

She peered into the night. “Why?”

We both listened for a moment, but the sound of rain dripping off everything around us covered any noise from the woods ahead.

Barb was on the wrong side of the fence. Since I couldn’t think of a reason that made sense, I guessed it had nothing to do with her unfailingly reasonable self. “I’m going after her.”

“Faye, that’s crazy. I’ll go.”

I turned the flashlight on her. “Retta, you’re wearing heels, nylons, and a skirt.” She might have said I don’t move as fast as I used to, but she didn’t. Instead she said, “I’ll follow the fence along the road on this side. Maybe I’ll see or hear her.”

There was a moment when each of us wanted to reassure the other, but neither could think of a way to do it. As a family we’re nothing if not realists, and we both sensed this was bad. Touching my arm briefly, Retta turned and hurried away, looking a little like Gene Kelly as she splashed unheeding through the rain with a forgotten, folded umbrella over her shoulder.

I was glad she didn’t stay to see me crawl through that fence. It wasn’t a pretty sight from any angle, but from the back it was undoubtedly ugly. The hole was made by teenagers for teenagers, not for women with figures beyond Rubenesque. The fencing caught at my clothes, gouged my back, and held on as if desperate to stop me, only to suddenly let go and rebound against the post with a clang, almost launching me face-first into the mud.

Once through, I flashed the light ahead. The inevitable beer bottles, mashed paper cups, and bits of broken glass lay on my left. Inky blackness on my right hid the pit and the lake beyond it, but I knew it was there. A familiar feeling hit low in my gut, the sense I was being pulled toward that yawning gulf by an irresistible force. I imagined myself stepping forward: solid ground, solid ground, and then nothing beneath my foot but air.

Stop it! I told myself.
There’s no time for this!

For reassurance I bent and picked up a branch. Like a blind person using a cane, I tested the ground in front of me. It felt solid. With the stick, the light, and my fear for Barb’s safety, I would ignore the fact that I was so close to the edge of the Pit. I would ignore my pounding heart and shaking legs. Ahead of me a path disappeared into the trees. A tissue lay on the ground, damp but not sodden. Lowering my head, I started down the path.

Chapter Fifty

Barb

Passage was difficult, since the path was simply the way deer and adolescent explorers traveled. How far was it to the old viewing point? Would I be given the option of jumping?

I had a really dumb but somehow important argument with myself about whether it was better to go over the edge myself or make DuBois push me. Maybe he’d order Gabe to push me off. I might be able to handle him. Faye had. I made myself stop thinking in that direction.

Distracted by my own thoughts, I tripped over an exposed root and went down, partially stopping the fall with my hands but letting out a grunt of pain anyway. DuBois helped me up with an almost courteous gesture, but his comment wasn’t reassuring. “It’s not far now.”

Chapter Fifty-one

Retta

For reasons I’m not sure of now, I brought the emergency bag as I hurried along the roadway. It had been years since I’d been to the Pit, but I knew about the trail along the edge. In warm weather we’d sometimes cut school and gone there to peer down at the trucks at work, so far away they looked like toys in a sandbox. I’d always felt sorry for the boys, who felt required to show off their manly courage by testing the edge. My girlfriends and I had hung back and squealed as they pretended it was nothing to lean out or sit with legs dangling over empty space.

The rise of the lawsuit mentality had led to the Pit being lined with a much stronger fence in the mid ’70s, complete with a secure viewing point, and a lot of
Do Not Enter
signs. Not that it stopped the kids, teenage delusions of invincibility being what they are.

As I traced the fenceline, the rain stopped. It didn’t help my progress much, since the shoulder was already softened. Peering into the woods for a glimpse of Faye or Barbara, my heels sinking in with each step, I vowed to add walking shoes to the kit for future occasions.

When a light flashed beside me, it almost didn’t register. Resisting the urge to call out, I leaned against the fence, hoping to see it again.

There! Another faint gleam deep in the trees. Was it Faye? I didn’t think so. This light was weak and thin, where the flash from my kit had a strong, broad beam. I listened, straining my ears to hear past the last drips of water falling from the trees. Was something moving through the woods? I thought so. Suddenly there was an exclamation, part surprise, part pain. And clearly, I heard a man’s voice say, “It’s not far now.”

There were people in there, at least two of them. One of them might be my sister, and she might be in trouble. I was on the wrong side of the fence, and it was doubtful I could climb it in heels. Faye was somewhere behind them, at least I hoped she was. But what could she do if Barbara was under some unknown threat?

Suddenly I remembered that the bag slung over my shoulder had flares in it. Don had told me they were simple to operate. “Just aim at the sky and tap the bottom,” he’d said. “You can’t miss.” Setting the bag down on the wet ground, I began to rummage through it, hoping as I searched that flares age well.

Chapter Fifty-two

Faye

“It’s not far now.”

The voice ahead stopped me dead in my tracks. Shutting off my flash, I tried to quiet my raspy breath. I was close enough that he might have heard me if he hadn’t been focused on someone else. I listened until I heard movement again. They were heading away from me.

I followed, too slowly for my liking. Hampered by the darkness and my aging body, I struggled every step of the way.
If we all get out of this,
I promised myself,
I’ll quit smoking.
Being completely honest, I added after a few steps,
At least I’ll cut way, way down
.

Chapter Fifty-three

Barb

I stumbled on, feeling blood running down my calf from the knee that had been smacked twice in the same place tonight. It wouldn’t matter if I didn’t think of a way to escape. If I could distract DuBois, I might hide in the trees. It probably wouldn’t work, but what difference if Eric shot me or threw me over the edge? No one would know except Gabe, who wouldn’t live to tell about it.

Since I’d been looking down at the tiny patch of light at my feet, I almost didn’t see the fence before me. When I realized the way was blocked, I lurched to one side and came to a stop.

“Here we are,” DuBois said with that disgusting cheerfulness.

He raised the flash to the sign.
Danger! Do not pass this point!
Beyond it on the right, the dark seemed lighter. I was seeing sky, not trees.

“We don’t quarry on this side now,” Eric said, sounding oddly like a tour guide. “It will be a while before anyone finds your bodies.”

I was regretting my earlier decision not to try to escape on the pathway. Now I was trapped here, the fence on one side, Eric behind, and the Pit everywhere else. Nowhere to go.

“Just step over it,” DuBois ordered. The barrier was four heavy posts sunk deeply into the ground and connected with three cross-boards. I could easily climb over it if I wanted to. I didn’t.

Gabe was looking at me, eyes wide with terror. I waited for one of them to say, “Ladies first,” but that didn’t happen.

What did happen was a flare that lit the sky over our heads. I heard the hiss as it ascended but had no idea what it was until the light burst above us with a pop. A few seconds later, another hiss sounded. By that time I was already on the move. “Run!” I shouted to Gabe, giving him a shove. Amazingly, he responded to my order as easily as he had to DuBois earlier. Taking off like a startled chipmunk, he pushed past DuBois and ran back the way we’d come.

I chose a different direction, heading to where I was pretty sure the fence was. If I could get over it before DuBois decided which of us to chase, I had a good chance. The flares were great in that their appearance startled him, freezing him for a few seconds. The downside was they made it easy for him to see both his targets.

He came after me. Hiding behind the bole of a pine, I peeked out to see him look up at the flares, survey the woods around him, and then look directly at me.

His choice wasn’t surprising, but something else was. Behind DuBois, Gabe had come back. Arms pumping, he ran straight at our common enemy.

An unlikely savior, Gabe was not coming to my rescue. Behind him came someone he found every bit as scary as DuBois: my sister Faye.

Gabe hit the unsuspecting DuBois full on in the back, sending him stumbling forward, out of control and into a tree. Eric’s head hit the trunk before the rest of him did, and he staggered back, eyes glazed. Gabe reeled backward for a moment from the impact but soon regained command of his body and began to run again. He passed me like a shot, crashing through the branches like a herd of panicked elk.

As the last of the flare’s light faded, Faye came on full tilt, following Gabe. She couldn’t know DuBois was there, dazed but still deadly. His plan had gone badly awry, but I doubted he could recognize that now. He’d shoot Faye unless I stopped him.

“Faye! Down!” She stopped then obeyed, dropping to the ground just before a shot rang out. Her flash went out a second later, and I heard a scrabbling in the trees as she crawled to relative safety.

The scene had faded into darkness except for the faint glow of the flashlight DuBois had dropped when Gabe barreled into him. It lay on the ground, lighting his feet as he stood crouched on the pathway, trying to decide what to do next.

A metallic vibration told me Gabe had found the fence and begun climbing. DuBois turned, and I ducked down. Keeping low, I started in a wide circle around him.

In only a few seconds, he picked up his light, did a quick arc in my direction, then turned it off. He was taking no chance that Faye might be armed. A second shot echoed through the darkness, making me jump. It wasn’t aimed at me. At least I didn’t think so. Had DuBois shot Faye? I wanted to call out to her but dared not.

Silence followed as we all thought about what to do next. DuBois was between Faye and me. I couldn’t move toward her. She had disappeared into the woods on the opposite side of the path, which meant the Pit edge was close. She couldn’t retreat any farther.

With agonizing slowness, I began moving toward the spot where I’d last seen DuBois. If I could sneak up behind him I might surprise, even disarm him. The problem was remaining noiseless in the inky blackness as I guessed where he might be.

When I thought I was close, I stopped, holding my breath and waiting for him to move. It was hard to ignore the feeling that he might have heard or even felt my approach and was waiting, ready for me. Ready to kill me.

Suddenly there was a pop, followed by the now-familiar hiss, and another flare lit the sky. DuBois was about six feet away from me, and he looked up in surprise. I was surprised, too, but I recovered faster than he did. Pushing off from a tree trunk, I hit him with all the force I had. We tumbled to the ground together, both of us letting out grunts on impact. I landed on top, which was good, but he held onto the gun, which was not as good. He brought the butt of it down on my back with a force that shuddered down my spine.

Another force shook me, but it was secondary. I heard DuBois’ curse, heard a clunk, and felt a second jolt. He groaned in pain. In the light of the flare, I saw a size eleven Walmart walking shoe had descended on his wrist and pinned it to the ground.

He might not have given up even then. After all, he was up against two aging women. I felt his muscles tense as he gathered his resources to throw us aside. He could still run, and neither Faye nor I would be able to catch him.

“I’ve called the police, and they’re on the way.” The voice came from the road. Retta! DuBois moaned once and slumped back. I guess a third sister on the scene was more than he could imagine. And more than he could handle.