Shadow Notes by Laurel Peterson (cool books to read txt) 📗

“I think Pete is getting closer. We’ve got to go through the woods. Maybe we can circle around to the drive.” If hypothermia didn’t get us first.

A small gate led out the back of the gazebo. It probably hadn’t been opened since father installed the folly thirty years ago. I pushed on it slowly, hoping it wouldn’t squeal, and then squeezed through behind Mother. Snow started to fall, tiny flakes like little prickles of ice on the skin.

“Use the trees for cover,” I whispered, scanning the woods. I didn’t see anything, but my training was in plants, not tracking killers.

Thud. Something lodged itself in the tree next to my head. I ducked and ran, dragging Mother by the hand. “This way,” I hissed. If we could get to the road, maybe we could flag down a passing motorist. Surely, Pete—it had to be Pete—wouldn’t kill us in front of witnesses?

That’s when I heard sirens. Bullets started flying randomly, Pete’s last ditch effort to get us. I tugged Mother to the ground and started crawling. We were still a hundred yards from the road. I scrabbled in my pocket for my phone and dialed Bailey.

“Where are you? What’s going on?”

“Tell the cops we’re in the woods behind the gazebo and Pete’s shooting at us.”

Mother screamed. I looked up. Pete stood over her, his gun pointed straight at her head.

“No!” I yelled, moving to block his shot.

He racked the slide, and smiled at me, triumphant, his teeth gleaming in the dim light. “You want to go first?”

“The chief knows you’re working with Mary Ellen.”

“The chief knows squat. The chief is a stupid, Southern hick from Louisiana who thinks he knows this town. I know who’s who and what’s what. And I’ve always known how to work the pretty ladies, haven’t I, Mrs. Montague? I had you fooled, didn’t I? Nice little Petey, that sweet boy. Too bad that’s the only way you saw me.” His snide energy rippled out. “I should have been Chief of Police. I’d worked for it, knew all the right people, even gave a good interview, but no, you had to go all affirmative action. Stupid. Mary Ellen will make me chief. Mary Ellen is smart.”

Even the birds were silenced.

“Put the gun down, Pete,” Kyle DuPont said. “There’s nowhere to go.”

Pete’s face went blank. Then a welter of conflicting options played across his face.

“It’s not worth it,” the chief said.

Slowly, slowly, Pete put the gun on the ground.

Inside, Bailey had blankets, wine, a hot pot of tea. Kyle held a chair for Mother, wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and pushed a teacup at her. “Mrs. Montague, are you okay?”

She nodded. “I’m fine.”

He crouched by her chair with his hand on her arm. “Are you sure?”

“Mother,” I said, suddenly angry now that we were all safe, “Why did you go outside? We were nearly killed.”

“Chief DuPont suggested that my telling him about the rape and Gary Hankin earlier might have saved Hetty’s and Hugh’s lives.”

“You said what? She could have died out there!”

The chief looked at me, with real pain in his eyes. “I didn’t say—”

“It’s what you meant.” Mother shot me a look like the old days—tough as steel girders. “It’s okay, Clara. He was doing his job.”

Bailey filled a mug and pressed it into my hands. Its heat made me realize how cold I was.

“It’s not okay,” I said, but subsided into a chair.

The chief nodded. “Officer Munson will stay with you tonight.”

“You’ve got both Mary Ellen and Pete Samuels. Why are you still worried?”

He leaned back in the chair and tugged on his suit jacket. “Mrs. Montague, for thirty-five years, you’ve kept your mouth shut. Whether or not you want to see it that way, you’ve done your rapist’s bidding. Now, you’re challenging that.” He glanced briefly at me. “You should be prepared for another attack, most likely on Clara, because he perceives her as what you love most.”

“But Clara is his daughter.”

“I believe he feels his children with Jennifer are his only true family.”

I almost launched myself out of my chair to dial Air France. The Seine. The wine. The Louvre. Escape, blessed escape. But another stronger piece of me, a newer piece to me, couldn’t abandon Mother. She needed me. I’d abandoned my father, but I wouldn’t abandon her. If the chief couldn’t find a reason to arrest Winters in the next twenty-four hours, I would act. I couldn’t live like this, waiting until something broke in the case.

“Fine,” Mother said. “I’m not risking Clara’s life and I’m not risking my own. Not for that man.”

I kept my mouth shut.

Chapter 28

Mary Ellen refused to talk. So did Pete. I made a phone call, made a promise. Then I made preparations, including persuading Paul to hand over Mother’s file.

New Year’s Eve opened with clear black skies salted with a thousand stars. Curled in my favorite chair, I could see them through the bedroom window.

I didn’t understand what created people like Andrew or Mary Ellen. It wasn’t parental neglect, since people built dynasties and media corporations even when their parents ignored them. It wasn’t excess privilege, since privileged people also endowed museums and fed third world children. Some people were just born wicked, and if life handed them a butterfly, they pulled off its wings.

I stood. Ten o’clock. Too early, but I slid into my long black wool coat, picked up my keys, and drove to Mother’s meditation cottage, reviewing each scenario I’d considered as I drove. None of my ideas was surefire, and none of them safe. Finally, I breathed deeply, letting the clarity and depth of the beautiful winter sky fill me. Intuition would have to bridge whatever holes logic and planning had missed.

When I pulled in, Ernie and Loretta’s lights were out. I parked the car out of sight behind one of the barns and made my way to the cottage with a flashlight. The protective circle of hedges felt menacing tonight, but the snow that