33. Thirty-Three
The moon hung low in the inky sky, casting long, ghostly shadows across the ground Camilla pressed her body into. Had they found her already? Damp soil mingled with the distant fragrance of wildflowers loved ones had placed on headstones. She tried to force her breathing to slow. Her heart pounded so loudly they might hear it over the motorcar’s engine.
Would they keep going? What would she do if they stopped?
Her trousers bore the marks of her dash through the woods, hanging ragged below the knee. Every muscle in her body ached.
She huddled in the darkness, pressing her belly to the ground and peering through the tall grass, her eyes affixed on the impending headlights. Her chest constricted, strangling her breath. Likely decent people approached, curious about a form they could see in the grass. They’d probably help. Take her to the police station in town. Fuss over the state of her clothing and matted hair.
Probably.
But she couldn’t afford to take any chances and end up back in that cave.
The automobile glided closer, its engine emitting a low, steady hum that blended with the night symphony of crickets. Shadows danced against the vehicle’s sleek, dark exterior, their fleeting movements mirroring her racing thoughts.
She couldn’t chance it.
Keeping her form as hunched as possible, she slunk from her hiding spot and then darted into the neighboring woods, her feet slapping against the damp earth. Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out even the sound of her frantic breath. Every rustle of foliage could mean pursuit.
She slipped behind the line of trees. There. She’d made it out of the path of the oncoming lights and—
A shout.
Her heart tripped. Decent folks out for a midnight drive wouldn’t be hollering at her. She lurched deeper into the shadows, roots catching her boots and sending her crashing to the ground. Whatever the voices yelled out behind her drowned beneath the thrum in her ears. Then the crash of their pounding steps breached the tree line, breaking sticks and making no effort at stealth.
She pushed her body into the fastest run she could manage in the dark. To her left, shafts of moonlight poked through the branches. If she kept the road in sight, she could follow it closer to town. Getting lost in the woods wouldn’t do her any favors.
Camilla risked a glance over her shoulder. Two looming shapes fought against the shadows and tangling undergrowth. Their silhouettes merged with a flickering beam of light. A flashlight?
How could she escape them now? She pushed harder, ignoring the briars catching on her arms and leaving stinging trails.
Elongated shadows swung like pendulums. Her pursuers illuminated the ground behind her, casting her shadow into her path. Her legs screamed with exertion, but the menacing figures closed the distance with alarming speed.
She wouldn’t make it.
Her burning legs betrayed her, and her ankle twisted on the uneven ground. She stumbled, her body collapsing to the earth and sliding in the dirt and dew.
A masculine voice shouted something, but the words wouldn’t register. The light swept over her, and the nearest body appeared at her feet.
She let out a piercing shriek, the best her heaving lungs could afford. She sucked in another lungful, preparing to fight, scratch, or whatever else she—
“Police!” one of the men bellowed.
The next scream died in her throat.
The shadowy form bobbed behind the blinding light, but no hands reached to grab her. A brisk voice unimpeded from their sprint washed over her. “Are you harmed?”
Harmed? Yes. She gathered her knees beneath her and struggled to rise.
Were they truly the law?
Please, God. Let it be so.
Relief wrestled with terror, and her shoulders began to shake. Another shadow man reached out from her side, and she jumped back, nearly falling again. Warm fingers encased her elbow, gentle rather than possessive.
“I’m Officer Abner, and this is my partner, Officer Smith. Are you Camilla Lockhart?”
The beam of light from the first man swept over to the one at her side and settled on the man’s relaxed brows and warm brown eyes. A gentle smile tugged at the corners of his lips, mirroring the care and sincerity in a gaze meant to put her at ease. Her focus dropped from his face to the shiny buttons on his policeman’s uniform, and the pent-up breath left her in a rush.
Law officers.
Good men.
Safety.
Her knees threatened to give way beneath her, but the officer kept her from slipping to the ground in a melted heap.
“Camilla Lockhart?”
She nodded, chest still heaving.
Officer Abner guided her steps back onto the road, the abandoned motorcar rumbling not far away.
Thank you, Lord.
If the police hadn’t happened upon her and it had been those horrible men instead…
She pushed the thought aside. Her body quivered as they opened the rear door. Then she collapsed against the Ford’s interior.
The next minutes passed in a blur as they drove to the police station and then led her inside to a dimly lit room. Her head pounded, and the slick sweat on her skin cooled, leaving her trembling.
They drowned her in questions, one after another. She worked to calm her quivering body and attempted to relay every detail and relive every horror, no matter how grueling. Anything she could tell them to catch the men responsible. They asked if she needed a doctor to tend her cuts and bruises, but she assured them she’d be fine.
What she needed most was to get out of here and back to those she cared about. Hattie, Solomon, Buck, and Finn, and…Daniel. Her chest tightened at the thought of him. Had the criminals come after him too? He hadn’t been at the cave with her, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t ended up like Papa, face down in the river and…
Her breathing came in sharp painful bursts, and she had to close her eyes.
Please, God. Let him be safe.
What would she do if she lost him too? Somehow in the short time they’d known one another, he had brushed away the shadows in the recesses of her heart and settled his steady presence in their place. His gentle strength, quick wit, and generous soul had blanketed her in a way she’d never anticipated. She wanted more time with him to see what this tangle of emotions meant.
“Miss Lockhart?” The concerned use of her name brought her eyes open, and she forced herself to focus.
“Forgive me. It’s been a trying evening.”
“Of course, miss.” A sheepish crinkle formed at the corners of his eyes. “We’re nearly finished.”
She swallowed the bile burning at the back of her throat. “Would you repeat the last question?”
After she’d described her captors and the place where they’d held her, the torrent of questioning came to an end.
Officer Abner finished scribbling in his notebook. He closed the cover and rose. “That will do for now.”
“Do you know what happened to my friends?” The question she’d been too afraid to voice squeaked from her lips.
One bushy brow lifted. “The people in the residence from which you were taken?”
She swallowed the lump in her throat and met his eyes, praying she wouldn’t find septic sympathy there. His blue eyes remained clear of the kind of pity that meant her loved ones had faced a worse fate, and her heart tripped over itself.
“According to the report, one witness unharmed. One suffered a pistol shot but has been seen to by a doctor.”
The hope rising in her chest plummeted to her toes. “Who? What…?”
The stoic lines of the man’s face softened. “I’ll have to look for the exact names, but the man who was shot is reported to be recovering.”
“Solomon.” His name came out in a groan. Her hands trembled. She had to get out of here and find out what happened. Help somehow. “May I go now?”
The officer dipped his chin. “One of our officers will escort you to your residence.”
She didn’t have a residence, but she wouldn’t explain. She rose and took a second to steady herself. “Wait. You said a doctor saw my friend. Is he at the hospital?”
The man gestured her from the room and down a long dim hallway without answering. When they reached the front of the station, he conferred with an elderly officer in low tones. Camilla fidgeted with the ragged hem of her blouse, which had long come free of her waistband.
On any other occasion, she’d be mortified by the dirt caking her clothing and the long strip of flesh exposed on her thigh. But right now, ripped pants and mud hardly mattered.
The older officer motioned for her to follow him, and they stepped out into the night.
“Wait here while I fire the engine.”
Camilla wrapped her arms around herself while he turned the crank on the front of the motorcar she’d recently exited. After a crabby grinding of gears, the engine sputtered to life and then roared with vigor.
Twin lamps over the fenders shot beams of light over the cobbled street. The officer opened the passenger door for her. “Let’s get you home, miss.”
Home.
What home did she have without Papa and the Alma May? She settled in the seat and wrapped her arms around her as loneliness surged like ice water.
But no. She wasn’t alone. Even in the absence of her beloved crew and the grandmotherly affection of Hattie, she didn’t face her trials on her own. The Creator of the universe held her close. She hadn’t been alone in that cave. God had worked to create a way to escape. He’d inexplicably softened the heart of one of the criminals and led the authorities to her.
No, she was never truly alone.
Warmth pooled through her and loosened some of the tension in her chest.
Beyond the bobbing headlamps on the motorcar, they passed the edge of town and started down the river road.
She stiffened. “This isn’t the way to Hattie’s house. The place where I was abducted.” She twisted in the seat to point in the other direction. “She lives on the outskirts of town, not here by the river.”
The driver nodded. “Yes, miss. I’m taking you to your friends. Isn’t that what you asked?”
Large houses took shape near the ravine ahead where the drivable road dwindled into a walking path. They’d gone to Daniel’s? Why?
She thought the officer might stop and leave her to walk the rest of the way, but he opened her door and left the vehicle lights on to illuminate their path. He escorted her up the front porch and rapped on the door.
When it swung open, her insides liquefied.
Daniel’s eyes widened in his stricken face. His hair stood on edge in disarray.
She’d never seen anyone more appealing.
Without a word, he leapt through the doorway and scooped her into his arms, his strength pressing her tight as though he thought he would never see her again. His fingers slid up her back past her matted hair and settled at the base of her neck, and she melted into him.
The tears came then. Sobs poured out, raw and unfettered and leached from the depths of her soul. At some point, the officer mumbled instructions that Daniel responded to, but she hadn’t the strength to pay much heed to the exchange. He held her until the night waned and the torrent subsided. When nothing remained and her breathing, at last, came in a slow rhythm, she extracted herself from the comfort of his embrace. She smeared a tattered sleeve over her eyes. What a mess she must appear.
He kissed her forehead, his eyes twin pools of worry and…something more. “Let’s get you inside so you can rest.”
He didn’t pepper her with questions. Bless him for that. She sniffled and managed a nod.
After helping her stand, he tucked her close against his side and led her into the house. No sooner did she breach the threshold than a familiar voice reached out to envelop her.
“My girl!” At Hattie’s shrill cry, Daniel released her into Hattie’s waiting embrace.
They held one another, and then Hattie eased her back to peer into her face. “Oh, sweet child. I prayed and prayed. A few scratches, but nothing more, right?”
A smile tried to twitch at one corner of Camilla’s mouth as she nodded. Thank God, nothing more.
Her relief waned at the pointed absence of the others. “What happened? Where’s Solomon?”
Hattie patted her cheek. “Doctor already got the bullet out of my boy, and you know him. He’s tough as they come. Doctor says as long as Solomon isn’t too stubborn, he’ll heal up right nice.”
Fresh tears leaked down Camilla’s cheeks. “I’m so sorry. All of this is my fault.”
“Hush, child.” Hattie’s eyes crinkled at the edges. “Ain’t a lick of this your fault.”
Camilla pressed her lips into a line, too tired to argue the truth. But if she hadn’t gone after that cursed treasure, none of this would have happened.
“Camilla.” Hattie’s stern use of her name snapped Camilla’s gaze from the floor and back to the wise eyes fixed on her face. “If you think you have enough control to order the lives and choices of others and to manipulate the series of events in this world, then you think a bit too highly of yourself than you ought.”
Her lips parted. Thought too highly of herself?
“Child, you aren’t to blame for the actions of evil men. What happened to your papa was a tragedy, and what happened tonight is the same. There’s a lot of tragedy in this life. But it doesn’t mean we carry the blame for every bad thing that happens. Sometimes it’s just the way of this fallen world.”
A strange choking noise came out of Daniel, which he tried to cover by clearing his throat.
He probably blamed himself too. With a tearful smile, Camilla held her hand out to him. He gripped her fingers, and she pulled him to her.
She wrapped an arm around Hattie and the other around Daniel and breathed in the strength their presence provided. Then she steeled her spine and stepped out of their protective circle. “I’d like to see Solomon.”