Georgie stopped rowing and turned to look at me. “Let’s not pull up to the pier. Someone may see us. Head toward the right and we’ll pull this up next to the big willow.”
“Okay,” I answered just happy we were almost there.
Georgie hopped out of the canoe onto the wet sand. She held the canoe steady as I stepped over the seat to climb out without ending up walking in water. We pulled the canoe up out of the water close to the willow.
I whispered, “I wish the willow were full. It would hide the canoe better.”
“It’s dark,” Georgie answered. “No one will see it. C’mon let’s see what’s going on in the house.”
We crept from the shoreline to the house. I was thankful the clouds hid the moon, and the dark hid us. Georgie and I approached the side of the house. The only room with a light on now was what I remembered being Inga’s study. I think.
Georgie pressed her face up to the window. She moved her head from side to side and up and down.
“What the heck are you doing? The drapes are pulled shut,” I asked.
“Look,” she whispered. “If you move your head in the right way you can see a large mirrored panel along the wall. I see the reflections of three men. At least I think they’re men. I can’t see their faces. The mirror is at the wrong angle.”
“Or you are,” I answered. “Let me see.”
Georgie moved grumbling, “What do you think you’re going to see that I can’t? I’m taller than you.”
I tried my best, but all I saw was three bodies walking around headless reflected in the mirror. I could tell papers were strewn about.
“Did you see all the papers on the floor?” I asked. “They’re looking for something and I’m sure it has to do with the inheritance. We need a better look.”
“How?” Georgie questioned, and I know she was rolling her eyes even though I couldn’t see them.
“We can go to the other side of the house and see if we can find an open window or door. You can climb in the window and find a door for me.”
“Why me?” I could hear the frustration in her voice.
“You’re taller and can jump higher to get in the window,” I answered.
“I’m not climbing in a window. Let’s find a better way. We should go around back.”
A low growling voice answered Georgie. “No, you shouldn’t.”
I looked toward the voice, and I’m sure Georgie did, too. It came from a figure dressed in black holding a gun.
“Don’t move and don’t try to run. I’ll shoot you, and no one will hear the shot. No one that is who cares.” His voice spat at us. I could sense the venom in his words. I just couldn’t see who it was.
Georgie grabbed my hand, and we stood there as if we were statues. Georgie muttered, “We were just going home. Our canoe sank, and we have to walk back.”
“Nice try,” the voice said. He began to laugh. “Didn’t you realize the old lady had security cameras and alarms? You set them off as soon as you hit the beach. We watched you hide the canoe.”
“Who’s ‘we’?” I asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to know? We’re going to walk back to the outbuildings. Move and don’t try anything funny. I’m a very good shot,” he told us.
My legs felt like rubber, but I walked alongside Georgie to the back of the property. We passed Inga’s beloved flower garden where I drank tea with her in the summer. No lovely floral scent this time. Only the odor of wet leaves the gardener didn’t rake last fall. He opened the door of a small shed and said, “Get in.”
“It smells in there,” I said. “What the heck is stored in here?” I could smell fertilizer and who knows what else.
“Bodies,” he retorted. “Turn around and face me.”
This is it, Annie. God forgive me for whatever I’ve done. I’m going to die.
My heart was pounding in my chest. I could feel it in my ears. I was surprised he couldn’t hear it. The next thing I knew, a bright light flashed in my eyes.
It’s only a flashlight. It wasn’t a bullet flash. I’m still alive.
The male voice growled, “Turn out your pockets and pull down your socks. Turn around.”
I felt a hand hit the jeans pockets on my backside. I felt Georgie jump. He must have checked her pockets, too.
“Get comfortable,” the voice said.
The door slammed, and we were in the dark. I heard the lock click shut.
“He locked us in,” Georgie whispered. “We need to get out.”
“I can’t see,” I answered. “There are no windows and knowing how well Inga kept up her property; this building is probably well built.”
“Did he find your phone?” Georgie asked.
“In all the commotion back at the house, it’s still in my purse.” I sighed. “What about yours?”
“In my jacket pocket lying on your couch,” Georgie began to laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“Us. The great detectives without phones or weapons. We’re locked in a storage shed alone, and no one knows where we are. You have a laptop full of mystery stories you wrote. How would one of your characters get out of this mess?”
I could hear her sit on the floor. I sat next to her and said, “My characters are too smart to get into a situation like this. If they did, they always would have a backup plan.”
“Okay, good idea. What’s our backup plan?” Georgie asked.
“You tell me. It was your idea to row over here.”
“I don’t have your creative mind. Think of something and fast,” she retorted.
“It smells awful in here, I need to go
