The Village of Gerard's Cliff (11 page)

Connor took a sip of
coffee, then laid the mug down slowly. He leaned forward with his
elbows on his knees, hands clasped...looking at her very seriously.
He saw her look of puzzlement as she tilted her head, trying to
figure him out.

He took a deep breath.
"Allie...I realize that I haven't told you a lot about myself..."
to which she raised her eyebrows and gave him a sarcastic look.
"But, I want you to know that you can trust me." She lowered her
head and narrowed her eyes, still watching him suspiciously. He
looked into her eyes, unwavering...he could look her in the eyes
now... "Let me explain why I'm here. I..."

The front door crashed
inward, sending glass and wood splinters flying into the parlor in
all directions. Allie screamed. The mug and hot coffee sailed
toward the fireplace as she instinctively threw her arms up to
shield herself. Connor jumped up from his chair, only to helplessly
watch as two men, each holding a .38 Colt walked quickly through
the gaping doorway and into the room. "Just stay where you
are...don't even think about moving," a raspy voice instructed
them. The larger of the two men, dressed in a black jacket and
black jeans, waved his gun towards Connor. "You can sit down now."
The man turned to his partner, and said, "Yeah...that's the one
from the bar." They both stood together, halfway between the open
front door and the fireplace, their guns trained on Connor and
Allie. Frigid, damp air blew in from the outside into the once warm
and cozy room.

Connor shifted his eyes to
check on Allie. She sat stiffly upright, feet on the floor, with
both hands grasping the ends of the armrests. Her eyes, wide with
horror, focused sideways on the gunmen. She must have sensed his
look, as she shifted her gaze forward to him, and for an instant,
their eyes connected with the enormity of what they faced together.
Nodding almost imperceptibly, he tried to reassure her with his
eyes. She blinked a couple of times, then turned her eyes once
again to the two men, who seemed to be quietly making some sort of
decision about how to proceed. The shorter man, dressed in a black
jacket and blue jeans, walked over to Connor, told him to stand,
and frisked him while the other man kept his gun pointed in
Connor's direction, all the while keeping an eye on
Allie.

The larger man moved closer to Allie. "Where is it?" and as
she looked at him, totally bewildered, he added, more loudly,
"...the money...you know what I'm talking about, Mrs.
Colborne."

Allie looked dumbstruck,
her mouth agape...and in that instant, Connor knew that she was not
the woman Jake Ayers had implicated. He inwardly breathed a sigh of
relief that his instincts proved right.

"I.....I don't know what
you're talking about." She was shaking her head at the man,
frantic...almost on the point of hysteria. Connor could see tears
welling up in her eyes as she stared from the man to Connor to the
gun, and back again to the man. The tears spilled over onto her
cheeks. "What money?" she stammered. "Th...There is a little in my
cash drawer...you can have that....b..but that's all I
have."

"She doesn't know," Connor
told the gunman in a firm voice, still looking at Allie, willing
her to be calm. Hearing that, Allie swung her head back around to
him and glared at him in astonishment.

"What is going on here?"
Allie yelled at him, finding her voice, now oblivious to the
danger. "What don't I know?"

"Your late husband kept
some cash that didn't belong to him." The shorter gunman sneered.
"We were sent to get it."

"Patrick?" Allie stared at the man. "What are you talking
about?" She turned her accusing stare to Connor. "What are they
talking about? And how do you know anything?" She repeated, her
eyes gleaming with tears and fright. "Who
are
you?" She screamed at him.

Connor didn't answer
her.

The two gunmen were obviously anxious to get this over with
as quickly as possible. Connor watched them as they re-grouped in
the middle of the parlor, guns still on Connor and Allie. Keeping
his head still, he scanned the room as best he could for something
to use as a weapon if he had the chance...the fireplace poker,
assorted vases in various sizes...damn...why did he leave his gun
upstairs....of all times. Allie continued to stare at him, Connor
noticed, and he was powerless to console her, or tell her the
truth. She seemed to be calmer now, though, assessing her
situation. He wasn't sure what these two men knew about
him
...but he was sure about one thing.....they were Jake
Ayer's killers, and if they killed once, they wouldn't think twice
about shooting them.

"Is there a door to the
basement?" The larger man looked at Allie.

Connor saw Allie shiver, and realized that she understood
that they were the ones who tried to break in two nights earlier.
"In the hall behind the kitchen...with the wreath on the door."
Allie answered calmly. Connor nodded slightly and smiled at her to
get her attention. As she turned to him for a second, he quickly
extended his index finger to make his hand resemble a gun. She
looked in his eyes, then quickly shifted her gaze to the desk.
Damn...it was in the safe. He was hoping that she was carrying it
with her - they hadn't frisked her for some reason. He continued to
look at Allie calmly, trying to let her see she could trust him. He
could tell that she, too, was eyeing the room for something to use
as a weapon. He was relieved to see her so calm, but hoping that
she didn't make any sudden moves.

"Stay where you are." The
larger man waved his gun at them, then turned to his partner. "I'll
go down and look around...keep your gun on them." Connor noticed
that this shorter man seemed nervous...he could handle him easily
if it weren't for the damn gun. They heard the door to the basement
open, and then loud footsteps that gradually faded. Connor knew
they didn't have much time...he had to think of something. He
glanced at Allie, then back at the gunman.

After several minutes had
passed, Connor saw that the man was looking in the direction of the
basement, trying to listen out for his partner. So far, there had
been no opportunity to make a move on the gunman, and Connor knew
their window of opportunity was closing fast. He wondered if the
other man had discovered the boarded up, plastered wall behind the
desk, and as if on cue, a loud splintering thud emanated from the
basement. Startled, the gunman turned toward the sound, his gun no
longer pointed at Connor and Allie.

Connor lept out of the
chair and tackled the gunman, bringing his knee down on the wrist
holding the gun. He punched him in the face, and smashed his head
into the floor. Allie jumped up and grabbed the pistol out of the
man's limp hand, as Connor made sure he was unconscious. Hearing
footsteps, Connor motioned to the front door, and they ran out into
the frigid darkness.

Allie stumbled down the
front porch steps, feeling Connor holding her wrist in a death
grip, as they ran for their lives. "Take this." She passed him the
pistol she had been holding, as they turned northward. She willed
her stubborn feet to move faster, to try to keep pace with Connor.
She felt like she was being half pulled, half dragged, as Connor
tried to keep her next to him.

"Where's the closest phone?" He yelled, as they entered
into the wall of pine and spruce trees that bordered the
inn.
Crack...
a bullet hit the tree to the left of Allie, and she
screamed in spite of herself. Oh, my God, he's coming after us. She
looked back and saw a beam of light moving toward them.
Crack
...another one whizzed by her, and Connor responded by
immediately yanking Allie to his right, changing
direction.

"The closest neighbor is
Ben, my gardener." Allie tried to keep her voice low. "A couple of
miles from here, I guess." She was starting to pant. "We're going
in the right direction, I think."

Connor and Allie ran
through the woods, swiping at the low-hanging limbs that slashed
their faces. They jumped or tripped over fallen branches, Connor
having to pull her up many times off the ground, as her shoe kept
catching in the low bushes. Allie wished there had been a full
moon, so she could see where she was going, but then realized that
it would give the shooter an even better advantage.

Crack
...another shot...but this one more distant. Had the gunman
stopped chasing them? They paused for a moment to get their
bearings in the pitch darkness, both of them breathless. "We've got
to keep going." Connor yanked her hand, and they took off again
through the tangled mass of trees, and brush.

"Allie...I'm..an agent
for...the Treasury Department." Connor was breathing heavily, his
words coming out in spurts. "I came here.." He took a deep breath.
"...to investigate a counterfeiting ring." He stopped for a moment.
He couldn't see the stunned look on her face. "Your husband was
part of it." Connor bent over and tried to slow his
breathing.

Allie was sweating, and
the sweat was turning to an icy chill on her skin. She shivered as
she put her hands on her knees to get her breath. She hung her head
in shock, as she silently took it all in.

"Patrick's death was no
accident. He was killed on that fishing boat, most likely by the
two men at your inn." Connor knew he had to tell her as much as
possible before getting to the gardener's house. They hadn't heard
any more gunshots. He assumed that the larger gunman had gone back
to the inn to gather the money. He continued to quickly and quietly
tell her as much as he could, and was glad that she listened
without showing any reaction. "Patrick and Ethan were the middle
men....Patrick decided to keep part of the money for
himself....it's hidden in the basement. That's what they came for
tonight," he added. "We're damn lucky we weren't killed. I was
going to tell you everything...try to convince you to move out for
your own safety, when they barged in."

"I understand." Allie was
quiet.

"We'd better get going. I
need to call the police and my agency."

Connor grabbed her hand
again, and they resumed their tortuous trek through the woods,
revived by their short breather. Allie saw muted, yellow lights
ahead of them. "There's Ben's house." She breathed a sigh of
relief.

They trudged up to the
door of the stone cottage, and knocked on the brown, plank door. A
gruff "Who's there?" accompanied by multiple deep canine growls was
the reply.

"Ben, it's Allie...It's an
emergency. Please open the door."

The door swung open
immediately, revealing a gentle-looking, elderly man with white
hair, a golden retriever standing next to him, now wagging its
tail. "Why Allie...what's wrong?" Ben looked from one to the other
as he swept them into his warm living room with a large, weathered
hand.

"Ben, this is Connor." She
had to be quick. "He's a federal agent and needs to call the
police. Can he use your phone?"

"Of course, of course..."
He motioned to the black phone on the table next to his recliner.
Connor immediately went over and started dialing.

"There's a man chasing
us...he's been shooting at us in the woods. We don't know if he's
gone back to the inn or not." Allie hated dragging Ben into this,
but he was their only hope. She glanced at Connor, who was talking
to someone now in a low voice.

"Well...we'll see about
that." Ben patted her on the shoulder, then turned and walked over
to the corner of the room next to the fireplace. He pulled out a
rifle from its resting place against the wall, and made sure it was
loaded. "Come over here, Allie, away from the windows and door."
She obeyed him, going to sit in a chair by the dining room door.
Now that she was in what she considered to be a relatively safe
spot, she let her mind process Connor's startling revelations. It
all made sense now. Patrick and Ethan, entangled in a
counterfeiting operation...who would have thought? So that was what
he did on his long fishing trips. She wasn't quite sure how it all
worked, but she figured that Patrick at some point, had handled
large sums of money, part of which he tried to keep for himself. He
was found out, and killed. She knew that Connor would give her more
details later...but, it dawned on her that Patrick had put her and
their guests in extreme danger, all for his own gain.

Allie watched, engrossed
in her own thoughts, as Connor got up from the recliner and spoke
to Ben. They turned to look at her, then went back to their
conversation. She didn't care to be left out of their plans, so she
stood up and joined them.

"Allie, I've called the
local police and the feds." He looked down at her with a deadly
serious expression on his face. "They're on the way to the inn
now." He paused. "I'm going back there, too."

She started to protest,
but he put his hand up.

"I'll be okay...I have to
do this." He bent down and kissed her lightly. "It shouldn't be too
long, and all this will be over." Connor gave her a reassuring
look, then turned to Ben. "I appreciate this." He shook the man's
hand. Before he opened the front door, he checked the gun for
ammunition. With a quick look back at Allie, he was
gone.