A Broth of Betrayal (8 page)

“Guy, we’re so sorry about Harry. Are you all right?”

“I’m okay. Thanks, Lucky. I just don’t know what I’m gonna do now. I feel pretty bad.
Harry was always good to me, he taught me everything I know about cars. It’s really
the only job I’ve ever had.”

Lucky nodded sympathetically. Rowena rolled her eyes and looked annoyed that she had
been interrupted. She turned back to Lucky. “I still have all those old photos of
the town and the school. Maybe I could write something about town architecture.”

Elias nodded in the direction of the construction site. “Let’s just hope that little
pile of architecture across the street doesn’t get built at all.”

“I agree.” Rowena’s face was flushed. “I’m definitely going to join the next demonstration.
Here I was trying to be nice to the guy and he throws me out! What a jerk,” she fumed.
“I’ll see you later, Lucky. Elias.” She ducked back into the crowd. Guy bobbed and
weaved a few times and finally followed in Rowena’s wake.

“I’m always amazed when all this comes together. You have to hand it to Cordelia,
she really gets everyone mobilized,” Lucky observed.

Elias put his arm around her shoulder. Lucky resisted the urge to kiss him. Not in
front of the entire town. She was far too shy for that. “Cordelia lives for this stuff.
It’s a good thing we have a famous battle to celebrate, otherwise she’d have to reorganize
the DC branch of the DAR and tell the Secretary of the Navy how to run his department
more efficiently.”

Lucky heard her name called again. Edward Embry emerged from a cluster of onlookers.
Cicero, on his leash, sat dutifully next to Edward, wagging his tail hopefully. “Lucky!
How nice to see you. This is surely a lot more fun than the day of the demonstration.”

“Hello.” Lucky smiled in return. “Edward, do you know Elias . . .”

Edward laughed. “I sure do. Everyone does. How are you, Elias? You manage to get a
little time off from the Clinic?”

“Barely. I’m taking a little time, in spite of my patient load.”

“You’re not volunteering to dress up for the Reenactment?” Lucky asked Edward.

“No. Please. I love this stuff, but I’m too old to go rolling around on the grass,
pretending I’ve just been shot. I only popped over to watch and maybe catch Elizabeth
here. Have you seen her around?”

“No. And I’ve been keeping an eye out for her too.”

“I didn’t see her in the office earlier. Must have just missed her.” Edward reached
down to pat Cicero’s head. Once again, Lucky thought she detected Edward’s affection
for and interest in Elizabeth. “Well, nice seeing you both, but I’ve got to get back.
I have a pile of complaint letters to read this afternoon.”

“About the car wash?”

“Mostly. And perhaps a few others—we’ll see. Should make for a pleasant afternoon,”
he replied ruefully. “If you see Elizabeth, tell her I was looking for her,” he said
as he moved away through the crowd, Cicero following dutifully.

Lucky had been more or less scanning the crowd herself since they had arrived, also
hoping to spot Elizabeth. She felt a flutter of anxiety. Elias glanced at her.

“What’s wrong?”

She smiled up at him quickly. “Nothing.”

“It must be something.” He grasped her shoulders and turned her toward him. “Out with
it.”

“I’ve been trying to reach Elizabeth. She hasn’t called me back and I’m sure she must
have heard about Harry by now.” She smiled apologetically. “And I guess I’ve been
hoping I might spot her here.”

“This time of day, she’s probably at her office. Have you tried there?”

To her relief, Elias didn’t minimize her anxiety. “It was too early when I called
before. But you’re right. I’m being silly. It’s just . . .”

Elias waited patiently for her to continue.

“I’ve just had this nervous feeling since yesterday. Can’t put my finger on it. I
know it’s silly . . .” Lucky stopped in midsentence.

“It’s not silly. Cut yourself some slack. You’re probably suffering from a little
PTSD yourself. Keep that in mind.” Lucky stiffened at the allusion to her parents’
death only months earlier. Elias felt the change immediately.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .”

“No, you’re right.” Lucky closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re right. I
think I’ve been handling everything just fine, but maybe I haven’t. Maybe I’ve just
shoved all that fear inside. I’m feeling almost phobic . . . that people can just
disappear from your life.”

“Quite a common reaction after the shock you’ve had.”

“It was months ago.”

“Doesn’t matter. It takes a long time. It happens to a lot of people by the way, so
don’t beat yourself up. I didn’t mean to imply that you weren’t handling your feelings
well. I think you are . . . admirably so. But dealing with the sudden death of the
people you were closest to in the world . . .” Elias trailed off. “It’s got to be
dreadful.”

“Everyone keeps telling me it gets easier,” she replied uncertainly.

“It will.” He pulled her closer. “But now—with what happened to Harry . . . no one
in town is feeling safe.”

Chapter 13

E
LIZABETH MASSAGED HER
wrists, grateful that Maggie had cut her loose from the chair. Red welts were still
visible where the cord had chafed. At least now she could stretch her arms. Her shoulders
were cramped with strain and fear. She took a deep breath and rubbed the back of her
neck hoping to relieve her headache.

It had taken what seemed an eternity the night before to undo the thin cord around
her ankles. The nerves in her fingers still tingled. When she had tried to stand and
reach the tray of food, her right leg had buckled beneath her. She had fallen to the
floor but managed to push herself up. When she had finally reached the food, she sat,
leaning against the wall, and lifted the tray onto her lap.

Maggie had fed her a generous serving of vegetables—sweet potato, chard and turnip.
She must grow her own food in the summer. Maggie’s behavior was so outside the norm,
the thought had occurred to her the food might be poisoned. Elizabeth had carefully
scooped a small piece of sweet potato and tasted it. It was warm and delicious. There
had been no choice but to eat the food and hope for the best. It was the only way
she could regain her strength.

She looked around the room in which she was a prisoner. A stained and filthy remnant
of carpeting covered the concrete floor. The walls had been finished with a sort of
wallboard that had long ago been painted green. Ripped and molding rock-and-roll posters
were pinned to the walls. Some of the names Elizabeth recognized—groups that were
well-known more than twenty years ago. Had this been a room Danny used in his teen
years? It was devoid of furniture. Other than the chair she sat on, the sleeping bag
that Maggie had left behind and the stained carpeting covering the floor, the room
was empty. A narrow window near the ceiling allowed a small amount of dusty light
to filter into the room. Boards had been nailed over the window on the exterior of
the house, but a space of a few inches showed a gap. Elizabeth was sure it was morning.
If only she could reach that window, she might find a way to escape.

She breathed deeply to stanch the fear that was just under the surface. What had she
done to deserve this treatment? She, a middle-aged woman, a retired teacher, she had
always led such a careful life. Things like this simply didn’t happen to people like
her. She had never been reckless . . . about anything. Yet here she was, the Mayor
of Snowflake, locked in a cellar like an unwanted animal. She thought of Charlie,
all alone with no food. What if his water ran out? Who would take care of him? Who
would miss her? Surely, Lucky would notice she was gone, and Jack, and her nearest
neighbors. The people at the town office, her assistant Jessie, and Edward. They would
realize something had happened to her. People would look for her, but how would they
know where to look? She had told no one where she was headed.
So foolish
, she thought.
So foolish
. Elizabeth stifled another sob. No one would ever focus on Maggie Harkins’s house.

Even more perplexing, she couldn’t imagine what Maggie meant when she said, “He won’t
hurt me then.” Who was she referring to? Was someone coercing her or was she delusional?
There was no logical reason Maggie should want to keep her prisoner. She had always
been kind to her and her son Danny when he was in her classes years ago. Danny was
a difficult kid for a woman to raise alone. He had often been the instigator of trouble
at school but Elizabeth had never reported him. She had always been convinced that
whatever commotion Danny stirred up, he had a good heart. He was mischievous, but
never mean.

She wondered if Maggie would bring more food today. Perhaps if Maggie opened the door
she could overpower her and force her way out. She hated to think about hurting another
human being, but if Maggie brought food she might leave a real fork that could be
used as a weapon. How quickly we descend to the lowest level of human survival, she
thought—struggling to keep body and soul together and fighting to be free.

Chapter 14

L
UCKY REPLACED THE
receiver and looked up. Jack was standing in the doorway of the office.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“I just tried Elizabeth’s number again. I called her office today and no one answered,
and there’s still no answer at her house.”

“Maybe she’s out for the evening. Even old people sometimes have a life, you know.”

Lucky did her best to smile in spite of her anxiety. “I haven’t seen her since the
day of the demonstration—and that was two days ago. I’m sure she’s heard about Harry
but I can’t understand why she hasn’t called us.”

“You need some cheering up. Can I treat you to an ice cream down the street?”

“Only if you buy me two scoops.” As far back as she could remember, it was her grandfather
who would take the time to treat her to ice cream. Her parents were always busy with
the restaurant. A vivid memory flashed before her eyes—her child’s hand grasped by
a huge rough paw, and the cold sweetness of two scoops of chocolate ice cream. “I’ll
just turn off the lights.”

Lucky followed the corridor to the front room and turned off the lamps one by one.
She approached the window to turn off the last lamp. A peripheral movement caught
her eye—a shadowy figure across the street. She moved closer to the window and, shading
her eyes, peered out. “Jack?”

“Right here.” Jack had followed her to the front room.

“Come over here,” she whispered. Jack moved toward the window and stood next to her
in the dimly lit room. “Look across the street. Someone is skulking around and going
through garbage cans. It’s the woman I saw at the construction site the other day.
Who is she?”

Jack turned off the last lamp and stared across at the opposite sidewalk. “I see her
now. That’s Maggie Harkins.”

“Oh, that’s right. Elizabeth mentioned her name the other day too. Does she not have
any money or enough to eat?”

“It’s not that. She’s got her house and her husband’s pension and all. I don’t think
it has anything to do with money.”

“Is she mentally disturbed?” Lucky continued to gaze as the disheveled woman investigated
the next garbage can and tucked a rolled-up newspaper under her arm. Her lips were
moving as though she carried on a dialogue with herself.

“In a way, maybe. She was a widow for years and then she lost her only child—a boy—oh,
maybe, let’s see, twenty-five years ago, I guess. Really pushed her over the edge.
Sad . . . don’t think she ever got over it.”

“You think she needs help?”

“I doubt she’d take it. The thing is . . .” Jack continued to stare at the figure
in the shadows. “She usually doesn’t come into town, not that I can recall. Always
thought maybe a neighbor did errands for her. You say you saw her at the construction
site?” He turned to Lucky with a puzzled frown.

“She wasn’t part of the demonstration, but she was sort of hanging around by the chain-link
fence afterward. Elizabeth knew who she was.”

“Elizabeth knew her and her son years back. Danny was one of her pupils when she was
still teaching.” Jack heaved a sigh. “Very sad. So lonely, that poor woman.”

Lucky flicked off the blue and yellow neon sign in the front window. “It’s a beautiful
night. Let’s go for a walk and get that ice cream.”

“Two scoops, as promised.” Jack locked the front door behind them and Lucky slipped
her arm through his as they headed down Broadway. Outside the air was moist and fragrant.
Moths fluttered in the halos of light around the streetlamps. Lucky stole a glance
over her shoulder as the figure in the shadows melted away.