Chapter 20 #2
Hours later, twilight crept in. I sat on the porch, working on an old radio I found in the back of the closet.
Milly had been in the barn painting and had only taken a break for lunch.
Around seven o’clock, Mrs. Winslow showed up with an old box she had of Penny’s.
It was a suggestion box that Penny had outside of town hall when she was mayor. The news shocked me.
“How’s our girl doing?” she asked, as we sat on the porch.
“Good. Milly’s been in that barn for hours, painting. She’s so excited about the clinic. And she should be. She’s earned this.”
“That she has,” she mused. “Why aren’t you out there helping?” She playfully glared at me.
“I will. I just had some things to tend to first.” I didn’t like leaving her out there alone with the work, but those cows had made a game out of testing my fencing skills. So far, cows—six, me—zero.
“Keep that girl safe, and watch your back. You two belong here, whether you want to believe it or not.” She waved from the window as she drove off. After she left, I flicked on the barn floodlight and stepped inside.
Milly stood on a stepstool, rolling primer across the far wall, a whitish grey blooming over the wood. A streak of paint crossed her cheek.
“Looks good,” I said.
“Ya like it?” she asked, smiling.
“Mrs. Winslow dropped off an old box; I left it on the porch,” I told her.
“That was nice.”
“Yep. Did you know Penny was also mayor for a stint?”
She studied me for a moment, then handed over a roller. “No way. I swear she lived a double life. Here. Put yourself to good use.” She bit her lip and smiled as she started to groove to the music.
We worked long after the sun set, the sound of the radio filling the barn. Inspector prowled the edges.
The radio buzzed again just as we finished the last panel.
“Adams, Levi.” There was a short pause. Long enough for me to freeze mid-roll. “East gate was wide open when I swung past.”
“I locked that two hours ago,” I said.
“Yeah, well, it’s unlocked now.”
“Copy,” I said, forcing my voice steady.
Milly lowered her roller.
“Don’t worry. I’ll check it out. You stay here and finish up. Just keep the doors closed unless it’s Levi or me.” On the outside, I managed to keep it light, but inside, I was anything but.
“Bossy,” she laughed and nodded to the music, continuing her painting. She was either not interested, too focused on the clinic, or trying to stay calm. My guess was the latter.
Outside, my breath fogged as I crossed the yard. The east gate looked closed, but the chain hung loose, draped instead of locked. Footprints in the mud angled inward. I clenched my teeth.
I re-latched the gate and swept the trees with my flashlight. Nothing. Still, the prickle stayed between my shoulders all the way back to the barn.
Inside, Milly was wiping her hands, inspecting the freshly painted walls.
“Gate?” she asked.
“Closed but unlocked,” I shrugged my shoulders.
“Wonderful. Don’t you just adore courteous trespassers?” There was a bite in her sarcasm. “What now?”
“You’re taking this rather well.” My guess was right—she’s trying to stay calm.
Milly shook her head. “I’m pretending.” She gave a crooked smile. “Besides, if I stop now, I’ll never finish this wall.”
After painting the last three feet of wall, I thought she’d be done for the night, but she started tidying the supply shelves while I rearranged crates and cleaned up the paint, keeping my eyes on the door.
Then the breeze shifted.
I smelled it first—smoke.
“Milly—?”
“Yeah,” she said, already catching it. “You smell that?”
“Stay here.”
I looked out the door and saw it. A faint orange glow coming from the old cattle shed. I jogged across the yard. The scent grew stronger with every step. Flickering orange pulsed against the low clouds.
“Levi, you seeing this?” I called into the radio.
“Negative. What’ve you got?”
“Smoke near the south shed.”
“I’m on my way. Two minutes.”
The fire was small—a hay bale. It hadn’t been burning long and was moved away from the rest. I yanked a hose off the post and hit the flames, steam hissing. Levi’s and Mason’s trucks barreled over the rise seconds later. Thirty minutes later, the fire was doused and out.
“What happened?” Mason asked, coughing.
“Smelled smoke, followed the glow.”
“Too cold and still too wet for a ground fire. Besides, what lit it?”
Levi’s head snapped up. “Where’s Milly?”
“In the barn,” I said automatically, then paused.
“She texted me five minutes ago,” Levi said slowly. “Wanted to know if you found the fire.”
Cold flooded my chest. “She texted you?”
“Yeah. Figured you told her to keep tabs.”
I didn’t answer. “Sweep for tracks, tire marks, anything. Don’t let anyone through that gate.”
“Austin—” Mason started.
“I’ll check the barn.”
I ran. The yard blurred, barely recognizing the fence, the house. The barn lights were still on, but the doors were half-open.
“Mil—”
The word died.
Open bag on the stool. Closet open. Phone on the floor. No Milly.
Inspector sat in the aisle, fur puffed, staring at the side door.
The door stood ajar by two inches. I cursed under my breath.
I crossed the space in a few strides and pushed it wide. Muddy boot prints led away toward the cottonwoods, two sets. Halfway to the shadows lay a pale scrap of cloth.
Her rag.
I picked it up, fingers closing around the damp fabric, and forced myself to breathe slow.
I raised the radio. “Levi, Mason, Palmer,” I said, voice flat and steady. “We’ve got a bigger problem. Milly’s gone.”
A few minutes later, searchlights flashed through the trees. Levi and Mason hit the yard at a run, Palmer radioed in. “Don’t be a hero, Adams, I’m on my way.” There was a moment of silence. “Direction?” Palmer barked.
“South-east fence line. Two sets of prints leading toward the ridge.”
“All right.” The sheriff’s voice snapped into command. “Mason, you take the west road, Levi, the river. Adams, you follow direct. I’ll be there in eight.”
The grass was crushed where they’d fought—heel marks, knee marks, from when she must have tripped. Then the prints disappeared, replaced by tire tracks.
“Pickup,” Levi called over the radio. “Wide spacing, deep tread. Headed toward the winter barn.”
Of course, it was. It was the only barn that wasn’t watched. It was barely standing, let alone messing around on the inside. The smallest nudge could implode the whole thing. It was set to be demolished in the spring.
“Palmer,” I said. “Block the far end. I’ll cut across the interior route.”
“Careful, Adams.”
“Always.”
The further I got from the house, the more my pulse quickened. The trees thickened around me until I saw the orange pulse again. Higher off the ground. Lantern light. The old winter barn squatted at the edge of the clearing, roof half-caved.
Through the gaps between the boards, a lantern swayed. Voices drifted—one rough, the other Milly’s.
There was a slight feeling of relief before the anger kicked in. I didn’t have much, but Milly was mine, and I wasn’t about to lose her.
I crouched behind the fence post, steadied my breath, thumbed the safety off my sidearm.
“Palmer,” I whispered into the radio. “I’ve got eyes on the target building. One male voice, one female—Milly confirmed. Holding until you’re close.”
“Two minutes,” he said.
I moved in closer. Inside, Harold slammed a palm on the table. Milly flinched.
One minute, I told myself.
Then I heard her voice through the night: “You’ll never win, Harold. You don’t even know what Penny left me.” A shuffle, then, “Ahh.” Milly yelled out. Moving to get a better look, I saw her—Harold’s hand on her throat.
That was it. I’d waited long enough.
I reached for the latch.
Time to end this.