Gone With The Whisker

Chapter 21

They’re going to kill us, aren’t they?” Kate asked.

I tried to moisten my dry lips. Didn’t accomplish the goal. “They want to. But it’s not going to happen.”

“No?”

The hope in her voice made me want to weep and comfort her at the same time.

She sighed. “Really? And how, exactly, are you going to keep that from happening?”

I found myself, of all things, smiling. This was the obstreperous Kate I knew and loved. “First, let’s work on your use of pronouns.”

“What are you talking about?”

She sounded annoyed. On a normal day, I would have become annoyed in return, which would have been obvious, and her annoyance would have increased, and the escalation would have gone on until one of us (Kate) stomped away in a sulk. Today, however, things were different. The fact that she had the gumption to be alert and critical when a pair of stone-cold killers were intent on ending our lives was a sure indication she’d have the courage to take action when needed.

“I’m saying the two of us need to come up with a plan.”

“Me? What makes you think I can do anything?”

Well, almost sure.

I opened my mouth to give her words of wisdom, a message that would give her confidence, a nugget of gold to help her get through the next hours, but she wasn’t done talking.

“You didn’t want me to say anything to that Luke. You didn’t want me to run. You didn’t want me to do a thing back then when our hands were untied and we were standing up, but here we are stuck and about to get shot to death, and now is when you want to do something? Now?”

And back to being sure. “Kate, my dear sweet niece. I wanted you to keep quiet and not do anything because right then it wasn’t going to help.”

“I could have—”

“No,” I interrupted, “you couldn’t. Neither one of us could have.”

“But they say getting away from kidnappers before you’re moved to another location is important. That running away is your best defense. If you’d run in the opposite direction I did, we would have split them up and I bet one of us would have gotten away, called nine-one-one, and by this time Those Two”—she made the phrase a capitalized one—“would have been in handcuffs. Why didn’t you run?”

Because that would have meant leaving her behind, and there was no way I would have done that. “You’re missing one pertinent point,” I said. “Luke was holding a gun. I doubt either one of us is fast enough to outrun a bullet.”

“It’s not like on TV,” she argued. “Unless he was an awesome shot, which kind of seems unlikely, he wouldn’t have been able to hit us once we got running.”

“Unlikely, yes. Because . . .” I stopped, not wanting to say the words out loud.

“Because what?”

I shut my eyes briefly, saw how the situation could have spun out, then shook my head against the images and opened my eyes. Looking at packed earth was far more soothing than what I’d just pictured. “Because,” I said, “Luke Cagan is a man, and a fit young one at that.” Kate started to say something, but I talked over the top of her.

“Those TV shows and movies with heroines kicking butt and taking the names of men half again their size are fantasy,” I said. “The only real exception is a highly trained female against an out-of-shape couch potato. Men are bigger and stronger and faster and no indignant proclamations of equality are going to change that.”

“So what are you suggesting? That we lie here like sitting ducks and wait to be murdered?”

I rolled my eyes. “What, you think direct attacks and quiet acceptance are the only two choices?”

“At least I tried something,” she said sulkily. “I don’t hear you coming up with any ideas. All those college degrees and you’re lying here next to a kid who doesn’t even have a high school diploma. Guess you’re not really any smarter than I am, are you?”

Oh, for crying out loud. “What makes you think—” I forced myself to stop. This was not the time to deal with Kate’s misinterpretation of everything I’d ever said to her.

“We’ll talk about that later,” I said. “What we need to do now is untie ourselves.”

“Really?” she asked, sarcasm dripping off the syllables in great big glops. “Wish I’d thought of that.”

“Then it’s time to catch up. Take a look over there.” And before she could make a snide comment about not knowing where “there” was, I added, “In the corner closest to your head, someone nailed up a bunch of old license plates.” I felt her twist around to see.

“Yeah, what about them?”

“Take a close look. What do you see?”

“A bunch of old license plates.”

Patience, I told myself. You must maintain patience. “How are the license plates hanging on the wall?”

“Nails?” She paused. “I guess?”

“Don’t guess,” I said. “Look harder.”

“It’s dark in here. I can’t see.”

Patience. “Then let’s move closer.”

“We’re tied together,” she reminded me, because obviously I must have forgotten. “We can’t move, right?”

“Courtney and Luke assume we can’t move. But I think we can.” At least I hoped we could. Because if we couldn’t, there wasn’t a chance we’d get out of this alive. “No, I know we can. All we have to do is figure out a way.”

“How?” she asked sarcastically. “Wriggle like a couple of worms?”

“If that works, sure.”

“Seriously, Aunt Minnie?”

That’s when I heard the despair lurking underneath her question. She was scared, and it was my fault. Which meant I had to fix this. “Yes,” I said. “Let’s be a couple of worms. Come on.”

So we wriggled. And rolled. And grunting with the effort, squirmed. I used every muscle with which I was familiar and many whose names I hadn’t thought about since high school physiology class. Our body parts bumped against each other in awkward and occasionally painful ways, and it wasn’t long before sweat was dripping down my face.

This, I found, was amazingly annoying when you couldn’t wipe it off, and I added it to the long mental tally I was making of Reasons to Imprison Courtney and Luke, but we kept going, heaving and wheezing with the effort. And an eternity later, we weren’t any closer to our goal than when we’d started.

“This. Isn’t. Working,” I gasped out and stopped.

“No, I think it is.” Kate continued to move, playing inchworm to the slug I’d suddenly become. “Honest, Aunt Minnie. I’m super sure we’ve moved.”

I didn’t think she was right, but since I’d always been spatially challenged, I was willing to believe her. Plus, what was the alternative?

“Okay, then.” I summoned a breath. “Let’s keep at it.”

And we did. And after a few more heaves and ho’s, I realized we were actually moving. Not very fast or very far, but moving. “Kate,” I said, “you’re right. When we do this”—I leaned my shoulder and feet into the floor—“we move a teensy bit.” Only a fraction of an inch, because we were tied together so tight I wasn’t sure our circulation systems would ever be the same, but still. “See? Feet and shoulder, then slide.”

“Yeah, I get it. And if we did it at the same time?”

“Great idea. On three, then. One, two . . . oof! One, two . . . oof!”

The hamstrung Hamiltons slowly, oh so slowly, made their way across the packed dirt floor, getting closer and closer to their goal. “Need. A. Rest,” I panted out. “Can you . . . see?”

Kate slumped, catching her breath. “Give me a sec.” I felt the weight of her as she rested and I did my best to communicate courage and strength by laying my forehead against her knees.

After a moment, she pulled in a breath. “Okay,” she said, picking up her head. “We’re like five feet closer than when we started. Let’s see. That lowest license plate isn’t that far away now and . . . Yes! It’s hanging off a couple of nails! And they look wobbly, I bet I can work them free. One for you and one for me!”

She immediately started the shoulder-feet shuffle again, and I hurried to catch up to her. A few more one, two, oofs later, Kate said, “Hold it, I think we’re close enough. I just have to . . .” She grunted and oofed and I found myself pulled around by her strength. Yet another advantage of being compact in size; the ability to be hauled around by your niece when tied together in a dark shed.

“Okay.” She twisted around. “Now I reach up and pull out the nails, right? Then we’ll use the points to start cutting these strings. It’ll take a while, but I think this will really work!”

“Go slow,” I cautioned. “We don’t want to—”

A tiny Thud! noise was followed by a howl from my niece. “I dropped it!” she sobbed.

“We’re fine,” I said soothingly. “Don’t worry. Can you see it?”

Kate sniffed, and I felt her head twist around. “No . . . hang on, yes.” She sniffed again. “But it’s rolled under the edge of the wall. It’s outside and I can’t reach it.”

“That’s okay. There’s another nail, remember?”

Sniff. “Yeah. There is. But with two nails we could both have been working at cutting us apart.”

“We’ll be fine,” I said. “Work on the other one.”

“Okay.” She sniffed again and shifted a bit. “Um, there’s something I should tell you. That guy my parents kept telling you I was messed up over? I got over him months ago. I don’t know why Mom and Dad think I’m still thinking about him.”

“Um,” I said. “That’s . . . good. I mean, that’s great. That you’re over him.”

“And there’s another thing.” Her shoulders shifted as she reached for the nail. “My tablet? What I’m doing on it mostly is Moon Time.”

I frowned. “Um . . .”

She sighed. “It’s a video game for little kids. It’s embarrassing to be caught playing it. My friends make fun of me.”

“I read middle grade books,” I told her. “And not for work, but because I like to.”

“Yeah? But I have to tell you one other thing. I don’t really get sick at the smell of food cooking in a restaurant.”

Such a surprise. “No?”

“No.” She sighed. “I was just nervous about working in one. A restaurant, I mean. All those people on TV, they really know what they’re doing, and I don’t know how to do anything. I’m not sure I even like to cook,” she said, sounding ashamed. “I mean, I can, but . . .”

So she was my flesh and blood after all. “Not sure if you’ve noticed,” I said, “but I’m not overly fond of cooking, myself.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. I just thought you were too busy. I thought all grown-ups liked to cook.”

As if.

“Okay,” she said. “I can feel the nail, only—” She stopped. “This one’s in deep,” she whispered. “I can’t get it out. Not without a hammer or something.”

“Next plan,” I said calmly, as I tried to think of one. “That license plate. Can you get it down?”

“Um, maybe. Let’s see . . .” She lifted her head. “What was that noise?” Kate asked.

I went still. “What noise?” Because if Courtney and Luke were back early, our chances to escape had dwindled to basically none. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“Shh!”

And then I heard it. A rustle of leaves that wasn’t the wind. An approaching rustle. I couldn’t hear any footsteps, but someone—something—was making that noise. I flexed my hands, trying once again to break the twine, and again didn’t get anywhere.

The rustle came closer. And closer. And then:

“Mrr.”

I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Eddie, what are you doing here?”

“Mrr!”

Kate laughed. Actually laughed. “He missed us. Well, you, anyway. Maybe me a little.”

“But his cage was latched!”

“Yeah, about that.”

“Mrr!”

Eddie’s well-being had been at the back of my mind since Courtney and Luke had appeared on the trail, but now I had to face this new reality. And I didn’t like any of the possibilities of what might happen to my fuzzy little friend any more than I liked what might happen to Kate. Or me.

“Right,” I said. “Back to the license plate. Its edges will be relatively sharp. The sooner we can cut ourselves free, the sooner we’ll get out of here and not have to listen to him anymore.”

Because Eddie was whining. And scratching at the shed’s siding. And giving the occasional howl.

Kate shifted some more, tightening the twine around my body. “Okay, I can feel the corner . . . got the corner . . . the edge . . . got the whole thing!” she called triumphantly.

“Great,” I said, blowing out a breath. “Now see if you can use that to—”

“I know what to do.” Kate contorted herself and started sawing at the twine binding us together. “I’m not stupid, you know.”

I swallowed my initial response. “If you want me to move so you can get a better angle, just let me know.”

She grunted and I waited, hoping and praying that the strands would part under the plate’s rusty metal edge like the proverbial knife through butter. I looked up at the window. While it had always been dark in the shed, the faint light coming in seemed even fainter. Dimmer. Which either meant a cloud was passing overhead, or that we’d been in here for hours and it was getting dark.

I stared at the window. The forecast had been for clear skies and no clouds had been in sight the entire day. Hurry, I silently said to my niece. Please hurry hurry hurry—

“MRRR!!!”

This time the howl came so close to my head that I wished for earplugs. “Eddie, geez Louise! Could you lighten up already? And what are you scratching at?” Not that I cared if he damaged the shed—have at it, pal—but the noises his paws were making weren’t of the scratching variety.

And then I caught on.

“Kate,” I said. “I bet Eddie thinks your nail is a cat toy. Is there any way you could entice him to push it our way?”

“The nail? Why would he think that’s a toy?”

“Because he’s a cat. Now if you could—”

“Don’t need to,” she said. “He’s already pushed it back this way.”

No wonder he was howling. He wanted his toy back. “Hang on to the license plate, and we’ll move around so I can get the nail.”

“Or,” Kate said, “I pass the plate over to you and I start using the nail. The plate’s bigger, so even if we drop it, we could find it again.”

It was a good plan, and we carried it out immediately to the accompaniment of an occasional quiet “Mrr” from Eddie. It was hard work, far harder than I’d expected, and it took some time to saw ourselves loose from each other.

When the last piece of twine parted, we rolled away from each other, and lay there, breathing deep and free. “Is this what the parting of conjoined twins feels like?” Kate asked.

I smiled. “Next time I run into some, I’ll ask. Can you stand?”

Standing with your hands tied behind your back is a trick, but with the support of each other, and the shed’s walls, we managed to get upright. “Okay,” I said. “I’m holding the license plate. You turn around and rub the twine on your hands against it.”

Kate, for once, did as I said without putting up a fuss. I held the plate as tight as I could, bracing its sharp edges with my fingers, but it took way longer than I could have liked for the twine to break apart.

“Free!” Kate shouted, throwing her arms high in a victory salute. I wanted to shush her, but since I also didn’t want to worry her about the possible imminent return of Courtney and Luke, I quietly said, “Nicely done.”

She whirled around and took the plate out of my hands. “You know,” she said, sawing away, “this thing isn’t nearly as sharp as I thought it was. If I’d known how dull it really is, I might never have tried.”

“Well, sometimes it’s better not to know.”

“Ignorance is bliss, right?” she asked.

I wondered if anyone ever quoted Thomas Gray accurately. “Well, that’s not—” I stopped as my wrists came apart. “That didn’t take long.”

“You’d already picked half of it away.” Kate came around to my front and studied my hands. “Aunt Minnie, you’re bleeding. We should put something on it.”

“Later. We need to break out of here.” I eyed the shed’s interior. “That piece of plywood looks pretty weak.” And it was the side most out of view of the trail. “Shall we?”

The two of us kicked and shoved and heaved and hip-checked, and it didn’t take long for us to loosen a corner that looked Kate-size. “Go,” I said, and she went out ahead of me. Then she held the corner of the plywood up, and I crawled out . . . and realized that the light was gone out of the day. Dusk was here and darkness fast approaching.

“Let’s go,” I said, scooping Eddie into my arms. “Quietly.”

“Wait.” Kate scurried to a nearby tree, shuffled around in the carpet of last year’s leaves, then crouched. “Got it!” she said triumphantly, holding up her cell phone.

“What . . . how?”

She grinned. “Just before I jumped at that Courtney, I tossed it over here.”

I gave her a quick hug. “Do you want to call nine-one-one, or shall I?”

“Aunt Minnie!” Kate whispered. “Up ahead!”

But I’d already seen the bobbing lights. It had to be Courtney and Luke, coming back to finish their list of chores.

“Follow me.” I took a hard right off the trail. This deep in the woods, there was no understory to hide us and no handy shrubs to hide behind. What we needed was a big rock, or anything big. But what out here was big enough? And then I saw it.

“Here.” I pushed her down behind a fallen tree and dropped to my knees next to her, with Eddie in my arms. As I moved to flatten myself, Eddie squirmed out of my arms and took off.

I wanted to call him, but I couldn’t. Courtney and Luke were only a few yards away and any noise now would give away our position. All we needed was for the two of them to get past, then the three of us could scurry off. But now one of us was gone.

Eddie! I shouted silently. You get back here right now!

He didn’t, of course.

“That’s weird,” Luke said. He stopped where we’d taken the turn off the path and danced his flashlight around. “I don’t remember seeing this before.”

Courtney’s flashlight joined Luke’s. “I don’t see anything.”

“Because you’re not a deer hunter. Those leaves there? They’ve been turned up in the last few hours. You don’t think—”

“Mrr!!” Eddie streaked into and through their fields of light, disappearing into the dark on the other side.

Courtney jumped. “Geez, he scared me!”

“Just a stupid cat,” Luke said. “Want me to shoot it?”

My heart froze.

“Nah.” Courtney turned away and started walking. “Let’s get going. If we want to watch that movie tonight, we need to get this done.”

When they were around the bend, I tugged on Kate’s hand. “Time to go,” I whispered.

“But what about Eddie?”

“He’ll catch up.” At least I hoped he would. If he didn’t, I’d be out here at first light. “Don’t worry about him.”

I trotted off, measuring in my head the time it would take Courtney and Luke to find the shed empty of Hamiltons. Five minutes? Maybe less. As soon as we left the trail and hit the two-track, I increased my speed and was soon running flat out, with Kate at my shoulder.

Eddie galloped up behind us as we burst out of the narrow part of the road and onto the gravel proper.

“Where did he come from?” Kate gasped.

The better question was, where had he been, but I didn’t have the wind to say it out loud.

“Hey!” Luke called. “Stop! Stop or I’ll shoot you in the back!”

“Just do it, Luke,” Courtney shouted. “They’re getting away.”

“They’re right behind us,” Kate cried. “How can that be?”

I didn’t know. “Keep running,” I panted out. “Keep running until you get to the road. Someone will help you.”

“Aunt Minnie—”

“Run!” I yelled, and slid to a stop. Then I dropped into a crouch and turned to face Luke Cagan.

Three sets of blindingly bright headlights flashed on all around me. “Police!” a megaphone boomed out. “Hold it right there! Put your hands up!”

“Not you, Minnie,” Ash said, walking into the light cast by the sheriff’s vehicles. “Those two.”

“Oh. Right.” I dropped my hands and watched as deputies hurried forward to handcuff Luke and Courtney. I looked around for Kate, and saw her being attended to by a female deputy.

“Minnie!” Rafe ran out of the darkness. I bleated a bit as he hugged parts of me that hurt, but not very loudly. “You haven’t answered your texts for hours,” he said. “I knew something was wrong.”

“So you called out the cavalry?” I nestled my face into his shoulder. “So romantic.”

“I’ll show you romance.” He dropped to one knee and took my hands. “Minerva Joy Hamilton, I love you, you love me, and we belong together like . . . um, like . . .”

“Peanut butter and jelly?” Ash suggested.

The female deputy talking to Kate said, “Bogie and Bacall.”

Another deputy laughed. “With Niswander, it’s more like Abbott and Costello.”

I looked around. At the deputies, at Kate, at Ash, at the empty expressions of Courtney Drew and Luke Cagan. This was a night that would forever be shadowed by how close Kate and I had come to being killed.

Putting on a smile, I tugged Rafe to his feet as Eddie, who had again appeared out of nowhere, bumped his head against my shin. “Don’t you dare propose to me like this. I want a marriage proposal we can tell our kids about. Besides, I’m a filthy mess. What I want more than anything else is a long, hot shower.”

He pulled me tight. “You got it.”

Two hours later, after all the questions were answered, all the papers signed, and all the necessary phone calls made, I fell into bed. And I never did get a shower that night.