The Sheriff sighed. “We’re peaceful, small town people. We don’t make threats or kill people who get in our way. When Curly Bradford couldn’t get me to run you out of town, he did a stupid thing and called the only violent people he knew.”
“And you stepped in and saved their lives,” I said.
“Part of my job description,” he said.
“To protect and serve?”
We both smiled. I liked the Sheriff, liked Percy, too. But I wasn’t going to allow the town to hold a girl hostage. I’d been through this before. A few years back my best friend captured a girl and kept her locked up in his safe room for three years. He did it out of love, and the fear of losing her forever. But I couldn’t let that continue, either.
The Sheriff said, “Libby has the power to help people and wants to. And you have the power to take her away from us, get us in a heap of trouble with the FBI, and make our town a laughing stock. So yes, I’m hoping she’ll be able to convince you to help us.”
“Help you keep her secret?”
“Help us protect her.”
“And hide her?”
“That too.”
Percy drove us to The Seaside, where I found Rachel pacing the porch waiting for me. But when she saw me enter the driveway with the police she didn’t run over and hug me as I would have expected. Instead, she stared wide-eyed at the Sheriff and Percy until they were out of sight. Crazy as it sounds, I had the distinct feeling she thought we might have come to arrest her for something. Of course, with Rachel you never know what’s going on in her mind. She might have been thinking about Easter Eggs.
“I heard they arrested you!” she said. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to pick you up!”
“It’s okay.”
“What did they do to you? Why didn’t you call?”
“Come inside, I’ll tell you everything.”
The Sheriff had already called Beth, so she and I sat down with Rachel. We’d gotten about halfway through the explanation when The Seaside’s phone rang. Beth took the call and after a few seconds, passed it off to me. I listened for a minute, asked a few questions, listened some more, and then hung up.
Rachel said, “Who was that?”
“Dr. Carstairs. He called about D’Augie.”
Rachel jumped to her feet. It was interesting to watch how her eyes lit up. “How is he?”
“He’s dead.”
Rachel’s knees buckled. She made an attempt to grab the arm of the love seat, but missed. She hit the floor before I could get to her.
“I’ll get a wet cloth and smelling salts,” Beth said, moving out of the room quickly.
I got Rachel up on the couch and elevated her torso. The salts worked. Beth handed me the towel, and I dabbed at Rachel’s face. When she came to she began flailing. It took a minute, then she was better.
“Is it true?” she sobbed. “D’Augie’s dead?”
“I’m sorry. I know you liked him.”
“What happened?”
“They’re not sure. He may have had a reaction to the antibiotic they administered for the burns. They never got a proper medical history on him, so they had no way of knowing.”
“Oh, my God!” she wailed. “Poor D’Augie.” She was inconsolable. So much so that I began to wonder if her interest in him could have been more than casual. On the other hand, her initial reaction was bogus. I’d seen enough fainters in my life to know that Rachel was faking it. But why?
Under normal circumstances I would have stayed home to help her work through her grief. But I had a date with Beth that couldn’t wait, so I gave Rachel a double sedative and tucked her in for the night.
It crossed my mind that I could be walking into an ambush at the church. But it didn’t feel like one, because Beth would be with me, and surely the Sheriff knew how easily I could turn things around by putting a knife to her neck if I needed to get away. While I didn’t think it was an ambush, I didn’t know what I might encounter when I got there, so I took the time to hide some light weapons and tools in my warm up jacket and pants. I opened my little leather kit, the one where I stored various tools of my trade, such as syringes and opiates and poisons and…
And noticed a vial was missing.
I shook Rachel until she opened her eyes. “Wh-What?” she stammered, deep in a fog.
I held the kit in front of her face and made her focus on it. “Rachel, listen to me. There was a small vial in here that I told you never to touch. It’s one of the deadliest poisons in the world.” I shook her again. “Rachel!” I said, and slapped her across the face. Her eyes opened to about half-mast and a crooked smile formed on her lips. When she spoke her voice had a sing-song lilt to it.
“You said he was trying to kill you,” she said.
“What?”
“He loved the Red Drink,” she said.
