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“Charlene. She pulled the trigger. She was jealous that Eliza was always my favorite. She thought if she could frame my daughter for my murder, then she stood to inherit what she believed was her right.”
“Sit down, Rhett.” My mother smiles warmly. “There’s more you don’t know. It seems your father has been keeping secrets.” She shoots him the kind of glare that makes a husband wither a bit.
“Oh, Clara, you see why I did, don’t you?” He claps a hand over his friend’s shoulder. “It started when your Sunny showed up on our beach, Rhett. I swore she looked familiar, but I brushed it off. I caught her doing chiropractic work on the horses when she thought no one was around. But again, it didn’t mean much. Loads of people get trained these days. Still, it wouldn’t leave me alone, so I looked up Walter’s number and gave him a call. Charlene picked up. She told me Walt had been missing for a few weeks. She was pretty sure your Sunny girl had killed Walter here.” He shrugs. “Now you can see why I was opposed to her being here. It was all hearsay, sure, but I didn’t even want a suspected murderer on my land, let alone one who killed one of my oldest friends.”
Walter doesn’t say much other than to nod with appreciation. Dad pushes on, looking more tired by the second. “I got a letter in the mail. No return address. Not signed, nothing. It said Eliza might turn up looking for work. He’d tracked her as far as California. He said he thought his wife had hired someone to kill him. Walt said he was hiding out, waiting for the heat to die down, but he’d come for her, and he asked me to help her out.” With a sigh, Dad admits a hard truth. “I thought Sunny had written it. I figured it was a good ploy to keep her job here and put my suspicions to rest. I was about to call her on it when Chief fell ill.”
It’s not hard to remember how livid Dad was with Sunny for treating him. But once she saved the old horse’s life, the difference was night and day.
“After she put her neck out for him, walked him, fought against a stubborn old cow like me, and even offered to stay up all night, I knew she had to be Walter’s daughter, and I knew she couldn’t be a killer like Charlene said, not with a heart like that. I made a promise to keep her from harm until he could find his way here.”
“And you did. I’m so grateful.” Walt’s emotion reflects in his eyes, but I’m not ready to be done yet. Something didn’t sit right with his story.
“But, Dr. Hutchings, you said earlier you were sure it was your wife that pulled the trigger. In the letter, you didn’t sound so sure. You said she thought she hired someone. Did something change since you wrote it?”
“Yes,” he draws in a breath like it hurts, “and no. I didn’t get a chance to see the shooter in the dark. Someone called me out of my room. It sounded like Charlene, so I went. We’d been fighting all day. She wanted me to come down harder on Eliza. She felt like I was getting soft in my old age. I figured she wanted to apologize for starting the fight we’d had at the gala.”
“But you didn’t see her face?” I’m not sure why my heart won’t calm down at his words. A fear at the back of my mind screams for attention.
“I heard feet approaching the sunroom. Heavier than Charlene’s. I guess it could have been Eliza if she wore her boots. Then, from the other direction, the shot rang out. I spun to see my attacker, but all I made out was a dark shape before I blacked out.”
“That could have been anyone.” The fear at the back of my mind starts to come into focus. “She said you weren’t there the next morning. Do you know where you went?”
His palm brushes over the several day’s growth of gray fuzz on his swollen face. “I came to in a cabin. I’d been stitched up well enough that I wasn’t bleeding, though I was strapped to a gurney. No matter how long I hollered, no one came. I was on an IV drip. Sometimes I hazed out, must have been something in the bag. When I came to, there was enough food on my gurney to keep me alive for a day or so. That went on for a couple weeks without seeing anyone.”
Carl speaks up for the first time. “What changed? How’d you get free?”
Hutchings almost smirks. “Once I was strong enough, healed enough, I pulled the IV out. Without those drugs sedating me, my strength came back faster. I was awake when her hitman came back.”
“So it was a man?” Mom leans closer. “Did you get to see his face? Could you identify him?”
“He wore a ski mask over his face and black clothes from head to toe. I guess he knew it was possible that I could get free, and he wasn’t willing to take the chance.” Hutchings points to the swelling on his face. “We fought and I really thought he might finish the job, but at the last second, I jammed a syringe into his leg and made a break for it. It took me four days of wandering in the woods to find any kind of civilization, and even then, it wasn’t like I could use credit cards or give my name, not with Charlene trying to kill me. I called one of my stable hands from a payphone. He filled me in on everything, right down to Eliza’s escape. After I swore him to secrecy, I wrote to a few of my friends. Eliza would need to lay low and life on a ranch was all she knew. My only hope was providence leading her to someone who could help.”
“Then you don’t know, do you?” My frustration collides with the growing fear in my gut. “You don’t know who shot you and tried to frame your daughter. You don’t have a clue who held you at the cabin.”
“Not on my own, not one hundred percent.” He gives a weak smile. “But if you could go get Eliza, together I think we can sort this out.”
“Go get…” I glance at Carl, but it’s not like he would know. He saw Tucker and probably assumed he was a new employee. We all looked so relaxed. Why would he tell them anything? “She’s not here, sir.”
“What? Where is she?” For the first time, Dr. Hutchings’s voice rises to booming volumes. He turns to Dad. “You said she would be working at the barn. You said we could ease her into this, and she would be safe. You said—”
“Rhett.” Mom’s soft voice cuts off his tirade. “Where is she?”
That feeling in my gut triples. “She left with her stepbrother about ten minutes ago.”
Sunny
My only advantage is that I’ve become accustomed to the sand. I haven’t been running in it, but I still manage to stay ahead of him for the first one hundred meters. My lungs burn. Running with a loaded gun feels unnatural and wrong. I steal a glance over my shoulder. Like a predator, Tucker gains on me, closing the distance between us. I push harder, digging deep, but his breathing continues getting louder.
I see the car in the distance, but I don’t have the keys. I don’t have a plan. I need a miracle.
Arms circle my waist, dropping me to the sand. The gun flies away. Tucker climbs over the top of me, pinning me into the sand. His arm curls around my neck, but my training kicks in. I lock my hand around the inside of his elbow, pressing it down to keep him from cutting off my air. I turn my hips, twisting until I face him. Anger burns in my stepbrother’s eyes, but I don’t have time for that. I only have enough time to survive.
I capture his right arm with both my hands, anchoring it and shifting his weight while I dig my heel into the ground and thrust my hips upward, effectively tossing him off my body. With a cry of relief, I scramble to my feet. His hand grabs my ankle. I struggle and fight, losing my shoe in the process. Screaming for help, I scurry up the sand dune that leads to the road. There’s no point in heading for his car. No time to go back for the gun. If I do any of it, I’ll end up like my father.
“Eliza! Come back!” His voice catches the wind, but I don’t dare return. Rocks tearing into my bare foot, I sprint for the highway. As a car approaches, I wave my hands, frantic to be rescued. But it swerves and accelerates, wanting nothing to do with the trouble I’ve brought on myself.
Emotions take a stranglehold on my throat, tears and sobs tying up my breathing to the point that I get lightheaded. Snippets of my memory start flashing through my mind. Nothing more than pictures. Another car speeds along the highway. I run to the center, determined to make them stop. Tires squeal. I wave my arms over my head, screaming for help. The red coupe swerves at the last second, narrowly missing me. When they hit the gas to desert me, I collapse forward into my hands, sobbing hysterically.
