Читать книгу Countdown to Death - Debby Giusti - Страница 10

The next morning, Allison’s eyes opened with a start to the gray haze filtering through the calico curtains. Her hand touched the crisp cotton sheet and thick multicolored quilt that covered the bed where she lay.

Her body ached. She stretched to ensure her muscles would respond, then wiggled her fingers and toes. Nothing broken.

Recollection flooded over her. The fire, her cries for help, strong hands that pulled her from the burning building.

Death had almost found her in Sterling, Georgia. Not a good way to start her stay.

Rising in the bed, she grimaced when the muscles in her back protested; she stretched, hoping to ease out the kinks. Once on her feet, she parted the curtain and spied her car parked outside.

Last night seemed a blur. The doctor had given her something to help her relax. Evidently, it had taken effect before she’d arrived at the cabin.

No other motel or hotel in town. Luckily, no one had been hurt in the fire. And the man who had saved her?

She remembered the determination in his voice before they’d jumped. About the only thing she was able to clearly recall.

Brain still as fuzzy as cotton batting, she spied her purse on the nightstand and her overnight bag on the floor.

Slowly the events of the night before unfolded. Once she’d found her room at the B and B, she’d been too tired to retrieve her suitcase from the car. Instead she had dozed on the bed and awakened later, smelling smoke.

Gratitude filled her again.

Luke and his aunt—

What was her name? Bett Garrison. That was it. They’d been so kind to offer lodging.

Allison hadn’t expected their generosity or the sense of relief that washed over her now. She could have died in the fire.

A déjà vu of Drew.

She shook off the thought. This wasn’t the time or place to revisit the past.

Better to deal with the issue at hand.

Closing the curtain, Allison turned from the window and opened her suitcase. She needed to find the Garrisons to thank them for their hospitality before she headed to town to talk to the men she’d tried to contact by phone yesterday. She’d left two messages on voice mail and had arranged an interview with the only person she could reach at home.

One in three. Not good odds.

Once dressed, Allison stepped outside into the overcast morning and shuffled toward the two-story frame farmhouse, her body refusing to move at any pace but slow. A barn sat in the distance near a rolling pasture where a few head of cattle grazed.

The house had a tin roof, black shutters and a wraparound porch neatly arranged with a rattan love seat, chair and dual rockers. The surrounding hardwood trees—sweet gums, maples and oaks—wore their fall colors, from bright reds to burnt umber. The breeze fluttered through the trees, sending a shower of leaves that piled like giant confetti on the ground below.

The screen door opened and Bett welcomed her with a wide smile. Her red hair was pulled into a clip at the base of her neck. She wore jeans and a pullover sweater and looked rested and fresh.

“I was wondering how late you’d sleep. Breakfast is ready. ’Spect you’re hungry after that ordeal last night. I’ve got eggs, sausage, grits and corn bread waiting on the stove.”

“You’ve been so kind. Thank you, Bett.”

“Nice to have company to look after. Gets kind of lonely around here sometimes.” She watched as Allison crept up the porch steps. “How’s the back?”

“Much better.”

Inside, a leather couch and love seat sat in front of a floor-to-ceiling stacked stone fireplace. Hunting magazines lay neatly arranged on the coffee table, and a mounted deer head hung over the mantel. Definitely a man’s room.

A second door led to an area off the kitchen where a round oak pedestal table, covered with a linen cloth, was set for four.

“Sit there, dear.” Bett pointed to a chair and reached for the coffeepot.

“Luke will be downstairs in a minute. We home-school Shelly, and he’s helping her with today’s lesson.”

“So it’s just the three of you?”

“That’s right. My brother—Luke’s dad—passed away about ten years ago. And Luke’s mother died shortly after Shelly was born.”

Seems Bett didn’t have a problem discussing their deaths. “I’m sorry.”

“The Lord knows what He’s doing even when we don’t understand.”

Allison wished she could be half as positive when it came to anything to do with God.

Bett poured coffee into a mug and handed it to Allison. The rich aroma of the fresh brew, mixed with the smell of corn bread and sausage, was making her mouth water. She blew into the hot liquid and took a sip, feeling at ease in the comfortable kitchen.

A door opened behind her. Allison turned, and just that quickly, her sense of serenity vanished, replaced with a nervous tingle that warmed her from the inside out.

Luke stood in the doorway. Lean and lanky with broad shoulders that filled out the plaid shirt tucked into well-worn jeans.

“Come on now, Shelly,” he called. “The lady won’t hurt you.”

Glancing into the kitchen, he flashed a smile at Allison that caused her cheeks to burn.

“Shelly’s shy around strangers,” he explained.

Which was exactly the way Allison was feeling at the moment.

“How’s your back?” he asked.

“Probably better than your arm,” she said, returning his smile.

“Then we’re both in good shape.” Even from across the room, she could see the twinkle in his eyes.

As they spoke, a girl shyly peeked at Allison from the hallway beyond the open door. Slender like her aunt with the same red hair. At first glance, Shelly appeared to be about sixteen, but as she stepped forward, Allison noted her innocent facial expressions and the faraway look in her eyes. Undoubtedly, she was a special child with a mental age much younger than her actual years.

“Go on, now,” Luke encouraged, his hand nudging her into the room.

With a reassuring nod from her brother, Shelly shuffled toward the table. She favored her left leg, causing a lateral swing to her gait.

Once she was seated, Luke grabbed her napkin from the table, shook it open and placed it over her lap. “Remember your manners, darlin’, and eat like the little lady you are.”

Shelly’s eyes crinkled, but her mouth refused to smile.

Luke’s gaze was warm, and Allison could see the deep affection he had for his sister.

Standing at the stove, Bett fixed a plate and placed it in front of Shelly.

“How ’bout you, Allison? Two links or three?” Bett held the spatula poised above the skillet, where plump sausage sizzled. “Best venison sausage you’ll ever eat.”

Venison?

Luke flicked a quick glance her way.

“Just eggs, please. No sausage.”

Bett handed Allison her plate, then fixed one for Luke and herself before she sat at the table.

Realizing how hungry she really was, Allison picked up her fork ready to dig into the eggs when an awkward silence settled over the room. She looked up to find Luke staring at her.

“Shall we offer thanks?”

Her cheeks burned. “Of course.”

She returned the fork to her plate, bowed her head and clasped her hands together on her lap. Major faux pas. So much for trying to fit in.

Luke spoke in a sincere voice. “Thank you, God, for the food we are about to eat. Thank you for protecting Allison from the fire and for giving us the opportunity to know her better. May we honor you in all we do this day. Amen.”

Reaching for his knife and fork, Luke cut Shelly’s sausage into bite-size pieces and spread a thick layer of golden butter over her corn bread.

Once again Allison’s cheeks burned. “Seems I’m late expressing my thanks.”

“Just glad I happened to be driving by.”

“If you hadn’t—”

He nodded almost imperceptibly toward his sister. Allison understood that Shelly didn’t need to hear the reality of what could have happened.

Not that Allison wanted to give voice to that thought, either.

Bett smiled and patted her arm. “No need to dwell on what might have been. We’re just thanking the Lord you’re here with us today.”

Her touch was filled with acceptance. Something Allison had little of from her own family.

“Shelly, after breakfast I want you to help me in the garden. We’ve got the last of the pole beans to pick before we finish your lessons and then work on our crafts.” Bett continued to chatter about the day ahead of them.

Relieved the conversation had turned to other topics, Allison ate heartily. Once finished, she wiped her mouth on the napkin and sighed with satisfaction.

“Breakfast was delicious.”

Bett beamed with the compliment and started to clear the table.

“Let me help you with the dishes.” Allison rose from the chair just as the doorbell rang.

Luke excused himself and quickly returned, followed by a middle-aged, beefy man dressed in a khaki uniform with a badge on his chest.

“Morning, Bett.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled warmly. “How ’bout some breakfast, Vic?”

“Can I take a rain check?”

“Allison, Sheriff Vic Treadwell wants to talk to us about last night,” Luke said.

“Ma’am.” The sheriff nodded to Allison, then smiled at Shelly. “Hey, Sunshine.”

The girl’s eyes crinkled, and the corners of her mouth twitched at the nickname she evidently enjoyed being called.

“Why don’t we go into the other room,” the sheriff suggested.

A sense of unease washed over Allison. She rinsed her hands in the sink and dried them on the towel Bett offered, then followed Luke and the sheriff into the living area.

Pulling in a steadying breath, she sat on one end of the leather couch opposite the sheriff, who withdrew a small tablet and pen from his pocket. Luke stood by the mantel.

“Allison, did you happen to hear anything before the fire broke out last night?” the sheriff asked, his pen poised to write.

She shook her head, trying to calm the threads of concern that tangled within her. “The drive from Atlanta took longer than I expected. I called a friend after I found my room and before I’d gotten my luggage from the car. I dozed off for a few minutes. When I opened my eyes, smoke filled the room.”

“Did you see anyone hanging around the premises?”

“No one.” She thought back to the blackened hallway of the bed-and-breakfast and the lone lamp that had shadowed the registration desk. “The night manager left me a note with the key to the room.”

The sheriff jotted something on the tablet. “Who let you in?”

“No one. The front door was open when I arrived.”

“And you locked it when you went upstairs?”

“I left it the way I’d found it, Sheriff, in case someone arrived after me.”

“But it was locked when I got there,” Luke volunteered.

The sheriff glanced at Luke before turning his gaze back to Allison. “You sure you didn’t lock the door?”

“I’m quite sure.”

“I blame Cooper Wallace,” Luke said as the sheriff made another notation. “It’s been years since he’s done any repair work on the property. Faulty wiring probably caused the fire.”

The sheriff shook his head. “Now, Luke, I know you two don’t see eye to eye, but he’s got a lot on his plate with his campaign for the state senate.”

Luke let out an exasperated breath. “He’ll never get elected.”

“If you came to town a bit more often, you might realize Coop’s favored to win. ’Course, there’s no one of worth running against him.”

Wallace? The name of one of the men Allison needed to find. “Any chance he’s related to Jason Wallace?”

The sheriff nodded. “Jason’s his kid brother. Why?”

What could she say? She needed to respect Jason Wallace’s privacy, but she also needed to answer the sheriff’s question truthfully.

“I hope to talk to him later today about a test my lab is developing.”

“A test that has to do with the health of the local deer population,” Luke added.

The sheriff raised his brow. “Folks take their hunting seriously around these parts.”

Allison glanced at the magazines on the table and the mounted deer head hanging on the wall. “So it seems.”

A gust of wind whistled down the chimney, and she shivered, not so much from the cold but from the confusion she felt. The sheriff’s interrogation had turned in a new direction. “Let me assure you, I didn’t come to Sterling to cause trouble.”

The sheriff frowned. “Some might disagree.”

“Meaning?” She looked at Luke, but his eyes were veiled.

The sheriff pursed his lips. “We’ve never had an arson case before.”

Her breath caught. “Arson?”

His gaze was direct, his tone as cold as the wind. “The fire started in the hallway outside your room, and was fueled by an accelerant.”

Allison’s neck tingled and a sick feeling roiled through her stomach.

“Hate to tell you, ma’am—”

She flicked another glance at Luke, who stared into the fireplace.

“From the looks of it—”

The sheriff shook his head. His voice seemed distant.

A roar filled her ears. She swallowed down the lump that clogged her throat and tried to hear what he was saying.

“From the looks of it, I’d say someone in Sterling wants you dead.”