“Okay,” she said, pulling back the chamber and cocking the revolver. “I’m gonna go after Peter. You mind babysittin’ the mayor? Peter said there’s a first aid kit in the backpack.”
“Not at all. We’re gonna need a new mayor, and I wanna pick his brain. I think I got the personality for politics.”
“Well, youarea giver,” she agreed.
“True,” he said, unemotionally.
It took several minutes for Peter to emerge from the mine entrance. When he did, he was breathless and tired. Stepping over the railroad ties and tasting sweet air again, he paused, bent over, and took several deep breaths before he was even aware of what was happening around him. Over by the old mining office, he finally noticed that Tully had been bound and gagged by Saul McCaw. Tully lay on the ground, a scarf wrapped around his mouth, his hands tied behind his back, and Saul was just finishing tying his legs. As the captive grunted, Peter saw that Saul’s rifle was leaning against the office wall. When Peter and Saul saw each other, Saul went for his rifle, and a burst of adrenaline kicked in for Peter. The younger Banyan ran down the dirt road toward the chained gate and the covered bridge; no longer thinking about leaving footprints in the snow, going a back way, or even the newly tightened chain on the gate. He just wanted to escape. Figuring he had to keep an eye on his prisoner, plus knowing Peter was too well known in town to hide for long, Saul decided not to pursue.
As Peter rounded the bend in the road heading toward the gate, he was totally unaware that just on the other side of it, the barefoot woman in the white summer nightgown who carried a rope with a noose was walking toward him. She passed through the wire gate like smoke through a screen door. The two passed by one another only inches apart; she headed up the road toward the director’s house, leaving no footprints, and he chugged through the snow toward the fence. Coming to the chained gate, Peter rattled it frantically, then started to climb over. But he abruptly stopped when he saw Eli’s black-and-white Ford come down the end of the covered bridge and make a sharp left turn to head up his way. Eli had the bubble light on top of his car on, and Peter knew this couldn’t be good. Hopping down from the gate, he turned and started to run back the way he came. Within another twenty seconds, he unknowingly ran right through the apparition, still making her way up the road. When he did, a shocking chill ran through his head like a sudden brain freeze. With a yell, he stopped, fell to his knees, then to his hands with a numbing shortness of breath. Simultaneously, Eli’s cruiser burst through the chained gate and slid to a snowy stop a few yards behind him. As the oblivious, sad, blonde-haired woman continued onward to her daily rendezvous with death, the sheriff jumped up out of his car with a revolver in hand and limped up the road to a shivering Peter still on all fours.
“Howdy, Peter,” he drawled.
A few seconds later, Goldie appeared at the bend of the road, running toward them. She stopped, still holding Peter’s .45, saw him on the ground, then saw Eli standing behind him. She also saw the woman in the white nightgown silently turn and head up the path toward the director of operations’ partially opened front door. She watched her slip inside, then turned her eyes to Eli. He smiled, put two fingers to the side of his head, then saluted in her direction.
Seeing the corny cowboy gesture, a big smile started to stretch across her gum-chewing face.
Twenty-Eight
BREATHE
Ninety minutes later, and still early in the morning, Sparkledove residents were experiencing two unusual things simultaneously. The first was that an ambulance carrying Charles Banyan slowly made its way down the dirt road from the old Maynard Mining operation. It carefully turned, went through the covered bridge, then continued down Bridge Street heading for the highway. The second unusual thing was at the opposite end of town, in front of the sheriff’s office. A state police paddy wagon was loading up Tully and Peter Banyan while a few curious onlookers wondered what was happening. Five minutes after the ambulance carrying Charles rolled onto Highway 70, Clara from Clara’s Gifts and Chad Miller from Miller’s General Store were in a car with Harriette Noise and also heading for the highway, intending to take her to the same hospital where the mayor was going.
Meanwhile, Goldie sat in one of the two chairs in front of Eli’s desk at the sheriff’s office, reading over a statement he had just typed up. Finishing, then nodding, she picked up a pen on the desk, signed it, and handed it to the sheriff.
“You misspelled ‘tunnel’ once, but other than that, it looks good.”
“T-h-a-n-x,” he spelled out. “You did a heck of an investigating job, Goldie: getting color pictures of the paint scratch, figuring out what was happening over on Falcon Drive, Jason Shirk being poisoned—everything!”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” she said, returning the compliment. “Knowin’ the paint Tully used to cover the scratch was new, convincin’ Father Fitz to tell you everything I told him, then gettin’ to my room early this mornin’ and findin’ that note.”
“After talking with Father, I wanted to get to your room at first light because I was afraid you were going to do something dangerous.”
She took a tissue out of her purse and disposed of her gum. “And see? I didn’t disappoint.”
He looked down at the floor self-consciously. “Banyan hired me because he thought I’d be a pushover, didn’t he?”
“It doesn’t matter, copper,” she replied, tossing her tissue and gum into a wastepaper basket. “You weren’t.”
“I-uh… I’m sorry you didn’t feel you could trust me.”
“It wasn’t you personally. It’s cops in general. I’ve, eh, I’ve sorta been conditioned to think they were the enemy unless they were on the payroll.”
He paused, looking at her.
“You want to explain that?”
“It’s a long story. Then, when I saw you, Tully, and Crosby at the tree lightin’ ceremony…”
He shrugged. “Banyan just told them to help me with the barricades because of my leg.”
“Yeah,” she admitted. “I read too much into that one. I’m sorry. So, what happens now?”
He leaned back in his chair, feeling the weight of his duties. “I’ve got to have a tough conversation with Stephie Banyan, the city council has to be called for an emergency session, statements need to be taken from the McCaw Brothers, and I have to figure out who to call about retrieving Crosby’s body. I’m not even sure itcanbe retrieved. I also want to keep up with Harriette Noise’s kids about her condition. They’re meeting Clara and Chad at the hospital.”
“You think she’ll be okay?” Goldie asked, concerned.
“Don’t know. I don’t know what she was given, and Banyan isn’t talking until he sees a lawyer. She’s in her eighties, so it’s anyone’s guess.”
