Killerfind (32 page)

here are
we going?
Like I
don’t know,” Ricky lamented, answering herself. “Are you a glutton for
punishment? Why on earth are we going to the damned barn?” Ricky folded her
arms across her chest and shook her head. “This day started out to be fun.
Please, Rhetta. Turn around.”

“I’ll turn around if this upsets you.” Rhetta eased
off on to the shoulder of County Road 811. Monster rumbled, but the silence
inside the cab was louder than the car. Eventually, Ricky said, “You go to that
barn again, Randolph will divorce you and then shoot you on the way out of
court, just for good measure.”

Rhetta ignored her protests. “Earlier, when I was on
my way to your place with your truck, I spotted a red Viper heading this way. I
tried, but I couldn’t keep up, and lost sight of the car. Your old truck
doesn’t get up much thrust. Not like this baby.” She patted the dash. “Or like
Cami. Anyhow, I wondered if it was Mylene and why she’d be going to the barn. I
just wanted to drive by, that’s all. If we see her car there, we’ll call the
cops, okay?”

“Mylene? Why didn’t you say so? We’re wasting time
sitting on the side of the road!” Ricky leaned forward. “How long ago did you
say it was that you saw her? Do you have your .38?”

“No, I don’t have the gun, but I wouldn’t dare try
to do anything anyway. We’ll drive by, that’s all.” Rhetta held up her palm in
emphasis. “We need to let the cops know if we see her car. Even if she sees
this car, she won’t know who it is. I saw her zoom past me in Gordonville
before I got to your place, so she may not be anywhere around. But if she’s
there, we’ll call the cops.”

“Let’s go, then,” Ricky said, and re-buckled her
seat belt. She’d unfastened it when they’d stopped.

Rhetta arrowed toward Whispering Oaks.

“Do you think Mylene is the murderer?” Ricky asked,
as Rhetta made the transition from smooth blacktop road to gravel county road.
A plume of grey dust rose skyward like a heavy rooster tail behind them as they
raced along the chat road.

“I don’t see who else it could be. I can think of
all kinds of reasons she wanted both of them dead. But why does she keep coming
back over here? What’s she looking for? That’s what I can’t figure out.”

Rhetta slowed, then stopped alongside the entryway.
She spotted two vehicles parked near the barn—a brilliant red Viper and a
pickup truck. Rhetta squinted at the truck, and called out the letters on the
license plate. “A-D-E-L-E.”

“Holy Smokes,” Ricky shouted, leaning forward,
peering through the windshield. “That’s Adele Griffith’s truck. That means
she’s in there with Mylene. Adele could be in danger, even if Mylene is her
daughter. What do you suppose they’re doing there?”

Rhetta maneuvered off the road and onto the shoulder
across from the driveway. She fumbled in her purse until she found her cell
phone. She punched 9-1-1. Nothing. She glanced at the phone—one bar of service
and the word “searching” scrolling across the top of the screen. “Crap. No
service here. What about your phone? Can you get any service?”

“I didn’t bring my purse, or my phone,” Ricky said.
“I only have my keys. I locked my purse inside the garage,” Ricky jangled her
keys at Rhetta. “I didn’t think I’d need anything. All I have is some money in
my pocket. What should we do?”

Rhetta dropped her forehead on to the steering
wheel. “Let me think. I just don’t know.” She popped back up. “Wait, maybe we
can drive to someone’s house and call from there?” She swiveled her head around
in search. There were no houses as far as she could see. She didn’t remember seeing
any for a couple of miles back as they drove in. This part of the county was
sparsely populated. Most of the area was devoted to corn and cattle.

Rhetta slid the shifter into reverse, backed
quickly, and then turned into the driveway.

“Are we going up there?” Ricky’s eyes widened.

“If anything bad is happening, just hearing us pull
up might stop things from getting worse.” That sounded pretty lame, even to
Rhetta.

“Things like what?” Ricky didn’t sound as though she
really wanted to know what things.

Within seconds, the Trans Am rumbled to a stop
several yards from the barn. Both women listened for sounds from the barn. They
heard nothing but the steady rumble from the Monster.

“I’m going to go around to the side and try to look
in,” Rhetta whispered.

“Why are we whispering?”

Rhetta rolled her eyes and put her index fingers to
her lips in a quieting motion. “We should be as quiet as we can. No telling
what’s going on there.”

“Like they couldn’t hear this Trans Am as it snuck
in? Right,” Ricky whispered. “Oh, God, unless they’re both dead!” Ricky seemed
to realize what she said and stuffed her fist into her mouth. “This is the barn
of death. Let’s get out of here. You said we’d call the cops and I think that’s
what we need to do.” Her voice began rising.

“Calm down. You’re going to alert them we’re here.
Shhh.” Rhetta had started out of the car, but turned back to Ricky. “Do you
think you can drive enough to get out of here? That way if they see the car
leave, they’ll just think someone was turning around. I’m going to stay here
and see if I can stop Mylene from hurting her mother. I’ll tell her the
deputies are on their way. Now, go call the cops!”

Ricky nodded. “I can do that. Let me have your phone
and as soon as I get a signal I’ll call them.” Rhetta tossed Ricky her cell
phone. Rhetta scrambled out and Ricky limped to the driver’s side, and slid in.
Rhetta ran to the barn and flattened herself against the side as Ricky quickly
turned the car around and roared down the lane.

The dust began settling and still there was no
sound, nor any movement from within the barn. Rhetta’s heart hammered against
her rib cage. Why the heck hadn’t she gone with Ricky? She reminded herself it
was because she needed to talk Mylene out of hurting anyone else. She sucked in
a deep breath.
I don’t want to do this. I need to leave. Or at least hide.
What in God’s name was I thinking? This is a job for cops, not a banker. If I
live through this, Ricky’s right. Randolph will kill me when he finds out.

Her hands began shaking and sweat poured off her
forehead. She searched for an opening as she inched her way sideways down the
length of the barn. She paused, took two deep breaths and centered herself as
she focused on Adele instead of the giant fear ball that had invaded her stomach.

The barn’s sliding door that had been padlocked now
stood open a foot. She stopped, back to the wall, listening. Not a sound
emerged from inside the barn. If anyone was in there, they were so quiet, they
may not have been breathing.
Oh, God, I don’t want to find any more bodies.
That thought made the ball rise to her throat. She swallowed and made a face.
She didn’t want to spit out the bile it left for fear of being heard.

The dead can’t hear
. Thinking that anybody else may
be dead inside the barn made her stomach flip again.
Turn around and leave
and wait for Ricky to bring the cavalry
.
Before you throw up.

Too late. Rhetta’s stomach began heaving. She sucked
in deep breaths, and gradually, the urge subsided. Her forehead flashed over
with sweat as she inched along again. She found the door and slipped through
it.

Inside the barn was dim, with the only light coming
from what little sunlight filtered in through the slats of the wood boards. It
wasn’t cool in here, like the first time she’d explored the barn. The air was
close and smelled of chemicals. Probably from the forensic crew. Dust motes
pirouetted in the sun’s rays.

Rhetta crouched behind a half wall that had once
held a feed crib for cattle. She paused, listened, heard nothing. She
maneuvered around the wall until she reached the back wall and, still
crouching, followed it into the corner, where another half wall, with the crib
intact, jutted perpendicularly. She glanced around and recognized the hand-made
ladder that led upward to a three foot square cut into the loft. She sucked in
a breath and scrambled into the loft. She toppled on to her back, panting.

That’s when she heard the voices.

hetta
listened as two
women spoke calmly. She swore she heard a reference to the weather.
What the
heck? Mylene and Adele are here in the barn of death talking about the freakin’
weather? Wouldn’t it have been easier to meet at Starbucks? At least Starbucks
has great coffee.

She flipped over onto her stomach, snatched bits of
hay from her hair, spit out what she hoped wasn’t a spider web. She leaned and
peered through the opening she’d just crawled through. She couldn’t see anyone.
She stood, but immediately squatted when she spied three other similar square
holes, fearing she might be seen by the women below. The openings were set
above where each set of cribs were located. That was for hay tossed down during
feeding time. Rhetta dropped to hands and knees and crawled slowly to the next
opening. As she did, decades of accumulated dust swirled around her face. She
gazed down. No one below. When a sneeze threatened, she buried her face in the
crook of her arm and stifled it as best she could. Another one followed.
Crap
.
Now isn’t the time for my allergies to flare up and give me away
. When
she felt the sneezing urge had subsided, she crawled to another opening.

When she craned forward this time, she drew back,
sucking in a breath. Light glinted off the business end of a rifle.

Mylene is holding Adele at
gunpoint!
Then
why were they talking in such calm voices? Rhetta strained to hear more. This
time, she heard Adele laugh.
What th—?

Rhetta didn’t complete her thought before Mylene’s
voice rose clearly. “You’re a crazy old woman.”

What Rhetta heard didn’t compute. Just who was the
crazy one in the barn? She answered herself.
That would be me, for being
here.
She prayed Ricky had called the cops and that they were on their way.

The rifle barrel moved. Rhetta craned a bit more
over the edge for a better view, but feared being seen from below. She couldn’t
pinpoint either woman, only the rifle.

“I’m not your mother,” Adele said.

Rhetta rocked back.
What?

A noise croaked upward from Adele, something between
a laugh and a cry. “One night, way after midnight, your father, the bastard,
brought you, his little baby bastard, home to me, swaddled up in a bundle of
blankets. Said you survived but the mother didn’t. At first I didn’t
understand. I wanted to call the police if there was an accident somewhere. He
looked me straight in the eye. ‘No accident,’ he says. Seems his whore, your
real mother, had given birth to you at her home, and she died in delivery. He
did what he always did. He disappeared with the evidence—you. I was forced to
become your mother so Malcom could keep you. No wonder you were daddy’s pet.”
Adele’s mirthless laugh pierced the dust motes and sent them scattering.

Rhetta’s heart thumped against her rib cage. Until
now, she’d hoped that Mylene couldn’t shoot her mother. This revelation changed
everything. Mylene now had a green light. Rhetta had to do something. But what?

She listened intently, praying to hear sirens.
Nothing.

Adele’s life was in danger, and Rhetta felt
helpless. She glanced around the loft for something to use as a weapon. Nothing
but dust bunnies and dried bits of hay. She dared another look over the edge of
the opening. Lying on the floor against the outside wall, she made out the
handle of a pitchfork protruding from a small pile of old hay. She strained to
see if the fork part was still attached. Even if it wasn’t, she could use the
handle as a bat to knock the rifle out of Mylene’s hands. That is if she could
get to it and sneak up on Mylene. She prayed for the cops to hurry.

She reversed and scrabbled across the loft to where
she’d climbed up. By her calculation, it was on the opposite side of the barn
from where the standoff was occurring.

Facing the loft with her back to the barn, she set a
foot down on the top rung of the ladder. Moving slowly, making sure she didn’t
slip and fall and create a disturbance, she descended another rung. It was
harder going down than the climb up had been. She couldn’t see where to put her
feet. Her hands shook as she gripped the side of the ladder. As she finally
slid to the bottom step, she snagged a splinter in the palm of her hand. She
closed her eyes and winced, holding her breath until the initial stab of pain
dwindled to a throb. She checked her hand and the angry two-inch sliver. After
making sure both feet were on the ground, she grasped the splinter in her teeth
and pulled it out. A trickle of blood followed. She sucked in a breath. The
throbbing continued.

She crept as quietly as she could, praying that
Mylene couldn’t hear her heart pounding. Every time her heart pounded, her palm
throbbed. She reached into her pants pocket, found a tissue and pressed it into
her wounded hand, hoping it would catch any droplets of blood.

She tried to keep her eye on the prize, the
pitchfork, but she’d momentarily lost sight of it. She felt panic rise, until
she neared the wall, and spied the fork. It looked different on the ground,
smaller somehow. Two of the tines had rusted off, but the rest of it looked
intact.

She inched along the wall, and using both hands,
eased the pitchfork out from under the hay. It freed effortlessly. She glanced
at her hand and was relieved that her wound was no longer bleeding.

With her weapon gripped in both hands, she shuffled,
back pressed to the wall, dragging each foot sideways down the wall toward the
women. They were still exchanging barbs, but at least no gunfire, yet. At the
end of the perpendicular wall that separated her from the two women, Rhetta
sucked in a deep breath. She peered through the slats, and again spied the
barrel of the weapon. It bobbed as the women raised their voices. She didn’t
have time to form a thorough plan. Her best offense was surprise. She decided
to scream, jump out and slam the pitchfork into the barrel of the gun, and
hopefully, when it dropped, be able to grab it away before Mylene could. If she
failed, she knew she and Adele were goners.

She hefted her weapon, and implored a quick prayer.
God
help us, please
.

She leapt from her hiding place, swinging the
pitchfork as hard as she could, like she would a baseball bat trying to hit a
home run. It connected with the gun barrel and sent it skittering to the floor.
She forgot to scream. She threw herself after the weapon and landed on it,
chest first. The air whooshed out of her lungs followed by a hot stab of pain
in her side. She realized instantly that she probably broke a rib.

She moaned, and tried to turn over. As she did, she
heard a woman’s voice. “Oh, my God. You just saved my life. That crazy woman
tried to kill me.”

The pain made Rhetta dizzy, but she clearly heard
the rumble of a vehicle driving off.
Crap, Mylene was getting away
. She
shook her head in frustration. A hand reached down to help her. When she gazed
up at her rescuer, a shaken Rhetta recognized Mylene.