The Stolen Canvas (18 page)

19

Clutching the bead ring and the coil of hair, Annie’s mind raced. Why had Tara done it … if she had? And why was she ready to assign blame to the girl without proof? And yet, Ian was right. Who else knew where to look? The attic hadn’t been torn apart. The thief had known exactly where the large originals were and had taken only them.

She reached for Ian’s hand when they stepped out the front door. Darkness had fallen over Grey Gables, and the woods beyond were shrouded in a black cloak. She was glad he was with her, and that she had said yes to dinner and his company. At least she hadn’t been alone to discover the theft of Gram’s beautiful canvases.

“We’ll take my car,” Ian said.

Just as they were about to get inside it, they heard a motor. Someone was coming up the driveway. “Look, Ian.” Annie stood frozen, watching as the truck approached and pulled to a stop. Wally hopped out.

“Evening, Annie,” he called, walking around to the back of his truck, smiling. “I hope it’s not too late, but I wanted to unload this lumber for the pantry. Got another load to bring in the morning …” His voice trailed off as he looked from one to the other, dark eyes puzzled. “What’s wrong?”

She stared into the familiar tanned face, the hair that seldom stayed in place, the quick, dark hands on the back of his pickup. Frozen, she was unable to respond.

“Someone got into Annie’s house,” Ian said, eyeing the bed of Wally’s truck. “Some of the Betsy Originals are gone.”

Wally said nothing. He put his hands slowly into his pockets. A look of hurt crept into his eyes.

Annie shook her head. It was ridiculous to suspect Wally. He wouldn’t steal a bottle cap. Besides, if he were guilty, he wouldn’t nonchalantly drive up to her door. “Wally, do you know where Tara is?”

He stared at her, and then at Ian and back again. He ran a hand over his unruly hair. “Tara?” he repeated.

“We think Tara may have taken them,” Ian said, “but someone had to—that is, she would have needed wheels, and …” He let the sentence drop.

“Oh, Wally, we know you wouldn’t do anything like this,” Annie broke in. “It’s just that …” But she didn’t know how to express the rush of disjointed thoughts leaping through her mind, and she hated the look that spread slowly over Wally’s face. Hurt, fear … what?

He seemed to be sorting out his thoughts, trying to comprehend what the two of them were thinking. He shifted his feet on the gravel and looked off toward the strip of forest behind them. He cleared his throat, swallowed. “I don’t know where Tara is,” he said slowly, “but there is something you should know—” Wally hung his head, shifted his feet once more. “I think she knows my brother Jem.”

Of course she knew him. They’d met at her place
, Annie thought. Tara hadn’t liked him. She had seemed afraid of him. What could Wally be talking about?

“Jem is—he—uh …” Wally sucked in air, let it out in a rush. “I think he might be the one who took the money from the Gas N Go. And then the other day I was watching for birds, and I saw him with her.” His voice rose incrementally, and he brought his hand down hard on the pickup’s fender. Anger or frustration or shame replaced the hurt on his face.

Jem? The charming man who’d regaled them with stories about Stony Point and fishing as a boy? The one who called himself J.C. and had a flourishing real estate business? Wally’s brother, Jem? Annie was utterly perplexed.

Jem was with Tara.
The accomplice Ian had suggested! Annie stared into Wally’s stricken face. She heard Ian expel a long breath. He’d want to head for the police station right now, and that’s probably what they should do. She felt the bead ring and the coil of hair still clutched in her left hand. What did it all mean? And what did Carla have to do with it?

She grasped Ian’s hand more firmly. “Thank you for telling us, Wally,” she said. “We’ll find Tara. We’re going to stop at the animal shelter. She’s been working there, you know.” And she walked away, leaving Wally standing there. She pulled a startled Ian toward his car.

They took the county road that wended along the woods, skirting the bluff. The bay nestled below, its deep waters brooding. In the light, it could be a pleasant drive with the sun shadowboxing through green leaves, but now its deep gloom matched Annie’s dark thoughts. Ian drove in silence, his strong hands on the wheel giving her comfort as she focused on them.

They reached the sprawling property generously furnished with pines and deciduous trees. The road forked sharply, and the old farmhouse appeared in the distance. They drove past the outbuildings and discarded farm implements, which Carla no doubt had inherited when she bought the place. There was even a motley-looking camper someone had abandoned behind a remote shed. They drove by the chain-link fences to the accompaniment of restless barking. One thing was for sure: No one was likely to sneak up on Carla unannounced.

The place lay in darkness—not even a porch light was in evidence.

“You suppose she goes to bed with the chickens?” Ian asked.

Ian pulled up alongside the dark farmhouse. Annie didn’t wait for him to come around to her door but leapt out, shutting it noisily behind her. The dogs, having sounded their displeasure, quickly resumed their innocent pursuits. Stillness lay over the property like a pall.

“Eerie,” Ian commented drily.

Her thoughts exactly, but she hurried up the dirt path and rapped on the door firmly and then more insistently, but no sound came from within. Had Carla gone out for the evening? Maybe she’d had a relapse and had to be hospitalized again. Random thoughts raced through Annie’s mind. She welcomed them to cover the insistent sense that something was terribly wrong.

Ian moved off the porch and started around to the back. She raced after him, peering into dark windows that revealed nothing at all.

At the back of the house he stopped so abruptly that she bumped into him. “See that window—that high one?” Ian whispered. “It’s been broken!”

She followed his gaze and saw the jagged hole. But the window was a small one. Even fully broken out it wouldn’t accommodate an adult, even a diminutive Tara. It could even have been an old break Carla hadn’t gotten around to fixing.

Ian had moved ahead of her again. He spread his hands out signaling her to be quiet.

“What is it?” she whispered. But she saw what he was looking at. The screen door had been torn away, and the wood around the inside door shattered.

Ian pulled her away from the entrance and around to the side of the house. “Someone’s broken in here!” His dark eyes grew bright, almost translucent and darted from her face to the door and back again.

“Oh, Ian!” she exclaimed. What could it mean? Why hadn’t she let him call the police when he wanted to? He was digging in his pocket for his cellphone when they heard a loud crack like something falling or a door banging. Was Carla in trouble? Without a second’s further thought Annie pushed through the door.

They entered a dark and damp mudroom, and then ventured into the kitchen. Neither spoke, their ears attuned for the slightest sound. But all was deathly still. Beyond the kitchen a narrow hallway loomed. When Annie stepped toward it, Ian pulled her back wordlessly and crept in front of her.

They moved stealthily. Suddenly there was a scuffle off to their left behind a closed door. Excited yips of a dog followed. Someone let out a cry, words she couldn’t understand.

As one, she and Ian pushed against the door. Locked! Then suddenly it gave way and they nearly fell inside to find Tara on her knees, her hand on the knob. Carla was huddled against the bed, scrambling to get up. The chocolate Lab whimpered and wriggled his spastic hip in pitiful commiseration.

Annie looked from one to the other in astonishment and confusion. Tara’s face was chalk white and streaked with dirt or tears or both. Her blouse was torn and angled over one pale shoulder.

“What’s going on here?” Ian demanded, helping Tara to her feet.

“That wretched man is getting away! That’s what’s going on!” Carla sputtered. “He just took off through the front door when you came in the back!” Carla tested her balance, steadying herself on the dresser.

“Who? What man?” Ian thundered.

“Oh, Annie! It’s my fault,” Tara cried. “I tried to make him understand. Jem wouldn’t listen.”

Annie looked around for Ian, who had bolted out of the room. Where had he gone?

“It wasn’t her fault!” Carla fumed. She smoothed her rumpled shirt with quick, angry strokes. “Now let’s go to the office where we can talk!” Carla grabbed hold of the dog’s collar. “Settle down, Boomer,” she ordered. “Come on, Tara—Mrs. Dawson.”

Annie and Tara followed meekly behind Carla who switched on the lights in the office, revealing the big round table with its clutter of papers and mugs. There was a computer and a file cabinet in one corner and an empty birdcage in another. Carla pulled out chairs, gesturing for them to sit.

“First thing you need to understand is that Tara tried to stop him. He forced his way into your house and made Tara get those canvases your grandmother made—those valuable ones we’ve all been hearing about.” Carla stood near the computer, and with hands on her ample hips she matter-of-factly outlined all that had happened. She might have been a CEO explaining a business plan to company managers. “Tara got the key to his van and took off with the goods. She left Mr. Smarty Pants in the dust out in the woods and came to me for help.”

Tara sat with her eyes on her lap, tears streaming down her cheeks. But Carla wasn’t through.

“She thought that no-account had left town and had given up his greedy little plan, but as it turns out …” Carla stopped for a breath. She sounded tough, but she looked shaken and pale. “She was afraid he’d follow her here, so she hid his vehicle behind the dog cages. She didn’t want anything to happen to your things, Annie.”

Annie listened with astonishment, especially when Carla revealed the reason why Tara had come to her—what the ring and the coil of hair were all about. It was an incredible story.

“Now, when our good mayor catches up with Mr. Jeremiah Carson, he’ll show him a thing or two!” Carla finished with a flourish.

Annie clutched her hands in her lap. That’s where Ian had gone! He’d gone after Jem; he was out there in the darkness.
Dear God
, she prayed silently.
Help him, please
!

20

Back at Grey Gables, Wally had watched Ian drive away with Annie beside him. He jammed his hands in his pockets, tearing the left one at the seam. He should have known! Jem hadn’t changed. The way he had snooped around Grey Gables, asking about who visited, what went on there, and passing himself off as some kind of big tycoon. Peggy thought he was right up there next to Donald Trump!

The times he’d come into town on foot, the rundown shoes, hair too long … all these should have been clues. But Wally hadn’t wanted to put it together. He wanted to believe Jem had made something of himself, but he was still looking for a quick buck, thinking only of himself. He hadn’t denied taking the money from the Gas N Go either. He had just shaken it off as though it was nothing. But it was something.

And that load of garbage about just happening to run into Tara by accident along the coast road. It hadn’t made sense to him then, but he’d let it go. He and Tara had probably planned the whole thing together. They’d both shown up around the same time. It was no coincidence.

Why had he not seen it? Did he need to be hit over the head with a two-by-four? Feeling sick, Wally climbed into his truck and put it in gear. Not sure what to do, he sped off in the direction Ian and Annie had gone. He had to tell them what he knew. He had to warn Annie about Jem and to help if he could.

It was darker than pitch along the road Ian had taken. Wally flipped on his high beams and headed in the same direction, hoping he wouldn’t blind some poor driver coming the other way. But the world seemed to be sleeping. He slowed as he neared the property Carla had purchased to house all her strays. The trees grew thicker, arching over the road until their leafy tips joined. Why were Annie and Ian going to the animal shelter?

And suddenly something caught his eye. Just beyond an abandoned shed with a caved-in roof he saw a van or part of a bus. He let off the gas and peered into the trees that surrounded around the vehicle. It was old and dilapidated with dents that had been sanded and patch-painted with an amateurish hand.

Wally gaped. It wasn’t a van or a bus, but some homemade rig. He’d seen it before—in Petersgrove!

He switched to low beams and pulled up behind it. The driver’s door stood open. Suddenly someone jumped out and stood squinting in the glare of headlights. Wally knew who it was even before he saw the familiar muscular frame and the dark hair curling on the collar of his blue silk shirt. But what was Jem doing at the animal shelter?

“You lost, Jem?” he asked, drawing alongside and propping an arm on the camper door.

After a deer-in-the-headlights stare, relief flooded the dark features. “Hey, bro! You’re a lifesaver.” Jem grasped his brother’s hand, sweat and fear palpable in his eyes. “Can’t get her started.” He glanced over his shoulder and then back again at Wally. “I need a lift.” He darted furtively toward the rear of his camper. “Got an important delivery to make.”

Wally blocked his brother’s path, knowing exactly what “delivery” Jem had to make. “Nope.” Jem stared through red-rimmed eyes. He opened his mouth, but no words came. “I’m not taking you anywhere,” Wally said, staring Jem down. “I think you’ve got Annie’s property in there. You’re gonna give it back.” Wally’s pulse raced, shame and anger building inside him. “And where’s Tara? What’d you do with her?”

Jem’s low curse fell between them. “I don’t have time to argue. We’re leaving here.” He grabbed Wally’s arm in a fierce grip.

Wally shook it off. “I’m not some little kid following you around anymore!” Wally spat the words through gritted teeth. “You’re a fraud. You came back here to lie and steal.” Wally felt anguish rising, dreaded tears forming. He swallowed them, steeling himself. “I’d have done anything you asked, man. You’re my family. I’d have given you anything—but not this way. No more, Jem. You gotta face up to what you’ve done and stop. Just stop!”

Seconds seemed like hours as he faced his brother. Maybe, just maybe he could get through to him.

Jem’s grip on his arm loosened, but a crafty gleam replaced the fear in his eyes. “Now who’s gonna believe you if they find the stuff in your truck? I’ll say you and me were in it together. What do you think of that, bro?”

“I’ll tell you what
I
think of that.” Ian Butler appeared from behind a clump of bushes directly behind the spot where Jem stood. Moonlight glinted on his silver hair, and his eyes flashed like lasers in the night.

Jem leapt away, but Ian was on him in a second and took him to the ground.

Wally heard the wail of sirens and knew it was over for Jem. It was over, but he couldn’t stem the rise of tears that stung his eyes.