an occasional sun-loving aspen, its yellow leaves mostly stripped by the snowstorm, broke through the gloom. I felt like Gretel following Hansel. Problem was, we weren’t dropping stones to let anyone come after us.
At a tree with a rope twined around it, Hermie turned left again, onto a bumpy path that was not wide enough for our vans. Her vehicle bucked and rocked over stones, undergrowth, ruts. Bile rose in my throat and my skin chilled. I fought a sudden urge to stop my vehicle, do a fourteen-point turn in the woods, and hightail it back to town.
Before I could do that, though, Hermie abruptly halted. I braked too, and looked around. We were in deep woods. There was no discernible trail in front of us. I scanned the surrounding forest and again saw a rope tied around a tree.
“What are you doing?” she screamed through the glass. She’d been leaning down to her right and hadn’t seen my approach. “Move!” she screamed. Then she had the bright idea to buzz down her window. “Stop that this instant,” she hissed. “And don’t make any noise.”
“We need to leave.” I looked down to where Hermie had been leaning. She’d moved things around: two pairs of binoculars, plus the digital camera, sat on the floor below the passenger seat, the seat that now held the gun.
“Goldy, you are impeding my progress.”
“That is exactly what I want to do. Hermie, we have to
She picked up the gun and tapped the inside of her windshield with it. I practically jumped out of my skin.
“Put that away!” I told her.
“Look there, Goldy. Down through the woods. Use these.” She put down the gun, thank God, but used her good hand to pick up one of the pairs of binoculars and hand them to me. “Just below us is the shed the puppy mill owner uses to stow puppies in deplorable conditions. If you come all the way out here because you’re answering an ad for beagle puppies, you only see a nice red barn and a new shed the owner’s put next to the road. You don’t see
“How do you know about these deplorable conditions?” I demanded as I focused the binocs first on the shed in question. About a fourth of a mile up from it stood a red-painted barn and a newer-looking shed. Across a meadow from the suspect shed stood a sprawling one-story house. I refocused the binoculars. In the house’s driveway sat a dark sport-utility vehicle, its back gate open.
When Hermie didn’t answer, I lowered the binoculars and stared at her. “How do you know?” I asked again. “Did someone have a sick puppy and complain?” I knew from Sabine that Hermie had said she’d gotten on this breeder’s trail owing to a concerned veterinarian. But I wanted to see if she’d give me any other information about this commando operation she was dead set on.
Hermie’s mouth was set in a tight frown. Finally she said, “There’s a veterinary nurse I pay, here in town, to tell me about suspected abuse cases. She told me about the beagles after a puppy in bad shape came into their office. When Animal Control claimed they found no irregularities on the property and I couldn’t find anything out on my own, I hired Ernest.” She picked up the other pair of binoculars and stared through them. “Look now, will you? Check out the driveway. If the puppy mill owner is trapping us, why is he packing his car?”
I trained the binocs on the house and the driveway. I tried to make out the Colorado license plate: BHG 223? Or 228?
My skin chilled again when I saw a bald man. He looked to be about the right size and shape of the man who’d set Ernest’s house on fire. I couldn’t be sure, though. He disappeared and then came back into view carrying three suitcases, one tucked under his right arm, his hands carrying the other two. Trailing behind him was a woman. A sudden breeze made her pleas audible.
“But why? Why won’t you tell me? What have I done? Are you just going to leave me here? Answer me!” It was Charlene Newgate. She wore the same fur coat she’d had on in the CBHS gym. “I love you!” She said his name then. Stony? Sony? Crony? “I love you so much, Stony!” she yelled. When Stony did not heed her, Charlene cried desperately, “I’ll tell the police! I’ll tell them everything! Everything you had me do—”
Stony, the bald man, methodically put the suitcases into the open trunk. Then he turned with startling swiftness and punched Charlene in the face. She fell hard. The bald man said something inaudible down to her inert form. Charlene did not move and did not make any reply that we could hear.
“You see!” said Hermie triumphantly. “You see how he even abuses
I was so stunned by what I had seen, so unnerved by what Hermie was saying, that she was able to push her door open. The force toppled me backward and I collapsed on top of a small pine tree. I struggled to get balance, but found myself in a tangle of the binoculars and their strap, clumps of snow, damp earth, and pine needles. The needles were wet and shockingly cold. They pierced my cheeks and ears and snarled my hair. When I finally managed to stand, Hermie was plowing through the trees well ahead of me. In her right hand, she was holding her gun.
I cursed under my breath, pulled the binoculars and their strap over my head, and tossed them into the snow. I struggled through the woods, but bushes, branches, and spills of rocks slapped my face and arms and made me stumble. Hermie seemed to be on an actual trail, while I was cutting one. I smashed through the undergrowth to find her footprints in the snow, then followed them. She was about twenty yards in front of me. How far was she going to go? The woods went down a slope that opened onto the meadow that led back to the house. I tried not to think of how a .22, at this distance, would not even hit the side of the closest shed.
“Stop!” I called after her. “Just let him go! Hermie! You’re going to get hurt.”
She paused and glared back at me. “Shut
My sneakers were soaking wet and I was panting. I made myself trot. I was trembling with heat and fright. For a large woman, Hermie was quicker than I expected. Maybe in addition to learning how to shoot, she’d been working out. My chest tightened with exertion. I prayed not to have a heart attack before I could stop crazy Hermie.
Soon we were out of the woods and in the snowy stretch of open land. I was losing Hermie, who was wearing sturdy hiking boots along with her pearls, her purple silk dress, and her boiled wool coat. She ran forward, about half a football field’s length ahead of me. The tin-roofed barn lay the same distance from her. I cursed again and tried to pick up my pace.
Unfortunately, melting and refreezing snow had formed an ice crust on the meadow. No matter how hard I tried, I could not run. My shoes crunched and slipped, and once I fell headlong on the frozen surface. I got up quickly, ignored a searing pain in my knees, and checked the surroundings again.
Charlene still lay motionless in the driveway. The bald man appeared, carrying a box. Hermie, having broken through to an expanse of brown grass, rushed forward. I steadied myself and clomped heavily toward her back. She was about twenty yards from the house.
“Stop!” Hermie screeched at the bald man. “You horrible creature! Stop or I’ll shoot!” Startled, the bald man dropped his box. Without waiting, Hermie raised her gun over her head and fired.
The firecracker explosion of Hermie’s gun echoed in the chilly air. But then there was an even louder boom, and another. Had the bald man shot back? I heard Tom’s voice in my ears, or maybe it was just my mind imagining Tom’s voice, because there were no police cars, no other people, anywhere.
I scrabbled across the icy meadow, then began to roll downward. I had to get to Hermie and make sure she was all right. Once again I imagined Tom’s voice:
Suddenly I was on snow, behind a building. In the distance, a car drove away. I blinked and looked for
