nearest the area in question. Carefully, one by one, she picked out a row of stitches. When she had an opening about four inches long, she reached inside with her fingers then, with the other hand on the outside, worked the objects over to where she could reach them and pulled out the first three pieces.
'Oh, my God!'
In the palm of her hand were three perfect diamonds. She laid them on the tissue and dug into the slit again and again. By the time she could feel no more lumps, she was looking at twelve diamonds. The smallest had to be nearly a carat in weight. The largest might be twice that.
Harriet didn't know whose diamonds she was looking at, but it suddenly became clear why someone wanted a quilt so badly.
Fred meowed, and she jumped at a knock on the cottage door.
'Who's there,” she called.
She looked through the peephole as Bertrand called out, “It's Bertie, Avanell's brother. I've come to pick up her quilt.'
She opened the door.
'Harold told me he was going to help you deliver the exhibits from the show,” Bertrand continued, “and I thought since I was going right by here I would come by and pick ours up. You know, save you a trip.'
'It's really no problem for me to deliver it,” she said, and realized how stupid she sounded as soon as the words were out of her mouth. “Let me lock my cat in the bedroom,” she said and shut the door. She hurried across the room and scooped the diamonds into her pocket.
'I'll take those if you don't mind,” Bertie said. He'd opened the door and followed her in.
'What are you talking about?'
'Don't play dumb with me-it's not becoming. We both know if you were, in fact, dumb, you would have left well enough alone and I would have picked up the quilt and no one would have been the wiser.'
Harriet was going to protest again but could see it was no use. She also saw for the first time the shiny gun in Bertrand's hand.
'Give me the diamonds.'
'I don't know what you're talking about.'
'Don't play coy with me, Miss Truman.” He motioned with the gun. “Turn out your pockets.'
Harriet stalled, feigning trouble getting her hand into her jeans pocket. She was so focused on the gun she didn't see Misty come in through the open door.
'It was him,” she cried. “He's the one that killed her.'
Bertrand turned his attention briefly away from Harriet to the girl. In that split second, Harriet grabbed Avanell's quilt and threw it over his head.
The gun went off.
'Run,” she yelled as she dashed to the door and pushed Misty through it. She ran around the side of the house, passing her, then pulled her through the fence and down the trail. She heard the front door bang but didn't look back to see how close Bertrand was.
Misty started for the potting shed, but Harriet signaled her past and through the woods beyond the yard to the trail she and Aiden had taken to his mother's house. She felt a burning pain in her shoulder before she heard the second gunshot. She knew she couldn't think about it. She kept running, Misty close on her heels.
She imagined she heard Bertrand wheezing then realized it was Misty. She couldn't take much more. Harriet tried to remember how the trail went.
The gun sounded again, but not as loud this time. She left the trail and went into the woods, again pulling Misty after her. The underbrush pulled at their clothes and blackberry bushes scratched their hands and faces, but she kept them moving. She couldn't hear Bertrand anymore.
Ahead, she saw a tunnel some animal had made into a large brushy mound. She dropped to her knees and pushed into the bush. Misty followed her, gasping for breath. She had to be careful; the forest didn't go on forever. It was dense, but she wasn't sure how wide the greenspace was, and whether Bertrand would be able to take the road and get ahead of them.
The tunnel widened into a low den-like area. They squatted in the narrow space. Harriet listened but didn't hear anything. Her shoulder hurt.
'He killed her,” Misty repeated. “I saw him kill her. She was yelling at him. He said give me the bottle.” Tears ran down her cheeks and dripped off her chin. “She pulled a bottle out of her pocket, and he killed her.'
'I'm sorry you had to see that, but right now we need to worry about ourselves. He's out there somewhere with a gun.'
'The police will come,” Misty said. She was calmer than Harriet had ever seen her, but she wasn't sure if this was the real Misty, or if the drugs were giving her serenity she shouldn't feel in this situation.
'We have to be as quiet as we can. Harold should be arriving to pick me up soon. Hopefully, he'll see something's wrong and either come looking or call the police.'
'Harold and Bertrand are friends,” Misty said. “They eat lunch together every day.'
'That doesn't mean Harold won't get us some help.” Harriet wasn't sure, but she didn't want to upset Misty any more than she already was.
She couldn't tell how much time had passed before Misty pulled a watch with a broken strap from her pocket.
'What time is it?'
'Ten-fifteen,” Misty said. “Carla should be to town by now.'
'What are you talking about?” She prayed there was a rational answer.
'Carla and I were coming to talk to you. We saw Mister Bertrand go into the cottage, and I told Carla she should go call the police. I had already told her he killed Miz Jalbert. She doesn't have a car, so she had to walk to town.'
Harriet thought she heard a siren in the distance but couldn't tell if it was coming their way or not.
'Let's go back to the potting shed. You can stay there, and I'll get closer to the cottage and see if I can tell what's going on.
She crept back out of the tunnel of brush and retraced her steps to the path.
'If we meet Bertrand before we get to the house, I'll keep him busy, and you run,” she told Misty when they were both on the trail again.
Misty nodded and followed her closely as she crept back toward the house. They reached the potting shed, and Harriet had to argue to get Misty to stay there.
'Think of your baby,” she said, and Misty finally agreed.
Harriet paused to survey the cottage before she went through the hole in the fence. Nothing seemed out of order. She crept around the side of the house, staying close to the camellia bushes that crowded the windows.
When she could finally see the driveway, a dark Mercedes was parked there. She rounded the corner and could see the front door was shut. She was considering her next move when a voice spoke from behind her.
'Looking for someone?” Bertrand asked. He pointed the gun at her again. “Now, I believe you have something of mine. And don't bother waiting for Harold. I sent him on his way. He believes I came by as we had prearranged so I could pick up the quilt, and that I arrived and found you already gone.'
Harriet knew that going in the house would be a death sentence.
'I think we both know you're going to kill me no matter what, so can I at least know why you killed Avanell?'
'If you're thinking you can keep me talking long enough for someone to come rescue you, you can think again. We are going inside-now.'
She was trying to decide which direction would give her the greatest chance if she made a break for it when Aiden came out of the woods.
'What's going on here? I was walking Randy in the woods, and I heard gunshots.” He kept walking toward Bertrand.
'Stop. Don't come any closer. I've got a gun,” Bertrand said, as if Aiden couldn't see the weapon in his hands.
'What? Are you going to shoot me? You can't kill us both. If you shoot me, she'll run, and if you shoot her, I'll kill you.'
