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  Bree turned toward Remi, her face pale. “We have to go there and check! What if something’s happened to her?”

  Nine

  Bree grasped Remi’s arm. “Please. Larayne might be in trouble.”

  “She’s right,” Sam said. “We have to check on her.”

  “Sir,” Deputy Wagner said to Sam. “I’m going to have to trust you know what you’re doing. I have no idea what sort of backup Beaufort’s sending, and I’ve just sent the only other deputy within driving distance to deal with three armed men. I’m not about to leave him without backup.”

  “We understand.”

  The deputy turned a stern gaze to Bree. “I want the three of you—four, if your cousin is there—at the sheriff’s office for statements when this is done.”

  He hurried to his patrol car, then sped off, the engine roaring.

  “Let’s go,” Sam said, opening the driver’s door.

  “What about our car?” Remi asked, climbing in the front passenger seat.

  “We can pick it up on the way back,” Sam said.

  Bree slid into the seat behind Remi, telling Sam, “Please hurry.”

  “Buckle up,” Sam said as he took off toward Harlowe, turning on the windshield wipers. Wind roared through the shattered back window, and rain sluiced in through the driver’s window, striking him in the face and shoulder. Even Remi felt it in the passenger seat. She turned to check on Bree. The young woman looking shell-shocked. “I’m so sorry about your uncle,” Remi called out over the rush of wind.

  “I know. I—I can’t believe this all happened.” After a moment, Bree leaned forward, placing her hand on Remi’s shoulder. “Thank you for coming.”

  Sam leaned in toward the center of the car as he drove, the rain coming down harder. He looked back at Bree. “We’re just glad you’re okay,” he said, before turning his attention back to the road.

  Remi said, “Last we heard, you were on your way to the airport. We assumed to San Francisco.”

  “I was. They ran my car off the road and I never made it.”

  “Selma called us,” Remi said. “The police found your car. I was beside myself until your call.”

  “They were holding a gun to me. I never would have put you in danger.”

  The wind and rain rushing through the broken windows made it difficult to carry on a conversation. “Let’s check on your cousin and we’ll talk after.”

  It took about ten minutes to reach the farmhouse. The moment Sam pulled to a stop, Bree dashed out of the SUV, then up the front steps. She tried to open the door, then started pounding on it, crying, “Larayne! Larayne!”

  Remi and Sam followed. At the steps, Sam said, “I’ll see if there’s any other way in.”

  Remi and Bree dashed through the rain to follow him around to the back.

  Sam tried that door, also locked, and Bree asked, “Can’t you kick it in?”

  “Might not need to,” he said, eyeing the lock. Slipping his wallet from his pocket, he removed a credit card, then shoved it between the doorframe and the lock, jiggling until it popped open. “Your cousin should get a dead bolt for this thing,” he said, opening the door.

  Bree rushed past him, through the kitchen. “Larayne! Where are you?”

  Remi and Sam hurried after her as she ran down the hallway opening doors, looking behind them.

  Remi, brushing the wet hair from her face, was just starting up the front stairs when she thought she heard something beneath them. She stopped and listened. Sure enough, there was a thump below her. “In here!” she called out, spying a storage door below the stairs. She opened it as Bree came running down the hall.

  Bree almost dove inside to get her cousin out. “Larayne!” she said, helping her to her feet.

  Like Bree, the woman had been bound and gagged. Bree yanked the gag from her mouth. “Are you okay?”

  Larayne nodded.

  Sam cut the ties around her hands and feet, then helped her to stand.

  Bree wrapped her in a hug, then drew her to the couch. “I was so worried about you.”

  “How’d you get here?” Larayne asked.

  “My friends,” she said. “The Fargos. They’re the ones who brought the book.”

  Larayne eyed them, saying, “I can’t believe this. I—” Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the sky let loose, rain drumming down on the rooftop. She stood suddenly, her hands shaking. “I need something to drink.”

  “Sit,” Remi said. “I can get it. Water?”

  “I think I need something stronger. But thanks.”

  They followed her down the hall and into the kitchen. She took a glass from the dishwasher, then opened the freezer, pulled out a bottle of vodka, and poured several fingers into the glass.

  Bree gave a tremulous smile. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? We still have to talk to the police.”

  “It’s a very good idea. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be shoved in the cupboard and not know if anyone was going to come looking for you?”

  Remi, acknowledging Bree’s discomfort, put her arm around her. “I can’t imagine what either of you must have been going through, not knowing where the other was. It must have been terrible.”

  “It was,” Bree said, meeting her cousin’s gaze.

  Larayne lowered her glass, seemingly surprised by that statement. “Oh, Bree . . . I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?”

  “For what?”

  “You’re the one who was kidnapped. It must have been horrible what happened to you.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m only glad that Mr. and Mrs. Fargo found me right away.”

  “Yes. Very lucky.”

  “The phone?” Remi asked Larayne. “We should probably call the sheriff’s office. They’re going to want to know if you’re okay.”

  “There’s a couple of portable handsets around. Should be one in the hallway by the stairs.”

  Sam left to find it. He was speaking with the dispatcher when he returned to the kitchen. “Yes,” he said into the phone. “I understand. We’ll be here.”

  He disconnected, then set the phone on the counter. “They’re sending someone from investigations out here.”

  Bree nodded, and Remi asked, “What about the suspects? Any word on if they caught them?”

  “Maybe we’ll find out more when the investigator gets here.”

  Larayne eyed the vodka bottle, then asked Sam, “Why are they sending them here?”

  “The police? To take our statements and to gather evidence.”

  She seemed shocked at his answer. “What sort of evidence?”

  “Prints, I expect.”

  Larayne downed her vodka, then set the glass on the counter. “What a nightmare this has turned out to be.”

  Bree reached out and grasped her cousin’s hand. “They’ll find who did this. Maybe they even have them now.”

  Her cousin’s response was to pour more vodka into her glass. Not that Remi could blame her. After all, she’d just lost her father, and now this. Remi pulled out a chair at the kitchen table, saying, “Maybe we should all sit down. Try to relax.”

  “Good idea,” Larayne said, bringing the bottle with her. “Bree, get yourself a glass and join me.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “No you’re not. They almost killed you. Have a shot.”

  Bree filled a glass with water instead, then took a seat next to her cousin. “I don’t know how you can drink that stuff.”

  “It grows on you,” Larayne said, taking a long sip.

  Remi, worried that the woman would be in no condition to speak to the police by the time they showed up, decided it couldn’t hurt to ask a few questions of her own. “I hope you don’t mind my prying, but what exactly is going on here?”

  Larayne shook her head. “I wish I kne
w.”

  “Something to do with your father’s map book?”

  Larayne exchanged glances with Bree. “Maybe if my father had sold it to the buyer I found, none of this would have happened.”

  Remi asked, “You found him a buyer?”

  “I did,” Larayne said. “Someone who was willing to pay way more than he could have gotten for that book.”

  “Who?” Remi asked, trying to ignore Sam’s pacing as he went from window to window, then down the hall to the front of the house.

  “I don’t remember his name.”

  “I do,” Bree said. “Someone named Charles Avery.”

  “Whoever.” Larayne eyed her drink. “All I know is, my father suddenly backed out and he wouldn’t say why.”

  “He was worried,” Bree replied. “He’d received those phone calls asking about his copy. And then that strange visit from someone asking about it. I think it was the timing of it all.”

  Sam had returned to the kitchen and was peering out the window down the long drive. “Timing?” he asked, turning toward them.

  Bree nodded. “My uncle learned about the theft of the endpapers from other first edition copies. I think he started to suspect that someone might be trying to target him for the same reason.”

  “Reasonable assumption,” Sam said. “How was it we became involved?”

  “When I started working for your wife, I told him about the Fargo Foundation and the charities that benefited from your treasure hunting. That’s when he suggested that if his book could go to someone like the two of you, it would take a great weight off his shoulders.”

  “That explains it,” Larayne said, sounding none too happy. “He wouldn’t sell to the collector because he was looking to sell it to you.”

  Remi thought about the circumstances leading to her visit at the store, telling Bree, “He didn’t seem to be expecting us when we arrived.”

  “Sorry about that,” Bree replied. “I called the morning you left for San Francisco, but he was so distracted when I told him you were coming. He’d received another call, this one threatening.” She gave an apologetic smile. “I guess I thought once the book was out of his store that everything would be fine.”

  “Right,” Larayne said. “And now he’s dead.”

  Bree laid her hand on top of her cousin’s. “I tried to go see him that night after I found out about the robbery.” Her eyes shimmered. “I’m so sorry. I never made it. They ran me off the road on the way to the airport. Next thing I knew, I ended up here at Larayne’s.” She brushed the tears from her cheeks, trying to smile at Remi. “They said they were going to kill us if we didn’t get the book. I thought they meant it. I would never have—”

  “Bree,” Remi said. “I don’t doubt for an instant that you did what you had to do.”

  Sam started pacing past each window again, looking out. And each time he neared them, both Bree and Larayne turned worried glances his way. Remi smiled at the two women and stood. “I think I’ll get a glass of water.”

  She walked over to the cupboard, found a glass, then filled it, moving to Sam’s side. “What are you doing? You’re making them nervous.”

  He turned his back to the women, lowering his voice. “With only one gun, we’re easy targets out here in the middle of nowhere.”

  Lightning flashed so brilliant, it lit the kitchen, followed by the rumbling of thunder overhead that shook the windows. Bree’s hand flew to her chest. When the handset on the table rang right after that, the cousins stared at it in shock.

  Larayne finally reached for it, answering, “Hello? . . . Hello?” She disconnected and dropped it to the table. “Maybe it was a wrong number.”

  Remi and Sam looked at each other. Apparently he was thinking the same thing she was. The bad guys were calling to see if they’d returned to the house. Remi checked the back door to make sure it was locked.

  Sam drew his gun, then turned to Larayne and asked, “Do you have any other weapons in the house?”

  Ten

  Every creak in the house seemed magnified. The rain lashed against the windows, the crack of thunder made Bree and Larayne jump.

  The police were just a few minutes away, but Sam wasn’t about to relax until they arrived. The odd phone call had rattled the two women, and while it could have been a coincidence, the timing set everyone’s nerves on edge.

  Armed with a rusty shotgun that belonged to Larayne’s late husband, Sam gave Remi his revolver, then had everyone sit in the front room while he stood where he could see out the window to the road beyond.

  Remi was doing a great job keeping their minds off the interminable wait by peppering them with questions about the map book. And when Larayne was ready to flee the house—an idea that Sam was against—Remi distracted her by asking, “Why is everyone after this book?”

  Larayne looked at Bree, saying, “I—I heard them talking about it. These—these people who showed up at my house. It was right before they brought Bree here. Before they forced her to call you about sending us the book.”

  “What exactly did they say?”

  “That once they got this map from it, they’d have everything they needed to find the key. If it was there, they’d get their money and they’d let me go.”

  Bree nodded. “That’s what they told me, too. That they were going to let us go when they got the book and their money. But they were going to have to find the key somewhere. Honestly, my heart was beating so fast, I may have misunderstood.”

  “The book,” Remi said to Larayne. “What made them think it was the book?”

  “Bree knows more than I do about that.”

  Clearly, Sam thought, they were missing some important detail regarding this book’s history. And the one man who might know what that could be was now dead. “What did your uncle have to say about it?”

  “He said more research needed to be done. He was in the midst of doing that when Larayne first approached him about selling the book to Charles Avery.”

  Charles Avery . . . The name seemed familiar to Sam, but he couldn’t place why. There were other factors that bothered him as well. The timing and location of this kidnapping. Why drag Bree all the way across the nation to get this book? Maybe it had more to do with the isolation of Larayne’s house, but that was another point that bothered him. “Larayne,” he said. “Is there any reason you can think of that you were singled out for this?”

  “Of course. My father owned the book.”

  “Beyond that, even. Did you speak with this Charles Avery personally?”

  “I’ve never met him. He sent someone here to the house.”

  “Has anyone else come to the house or contacted you about the book?”

  She shook her head. “Why?”

  “I just think it’s strange that all this happened here, of all places.”

  “You don’t think that Charles Avery’s behind this?”

  “Honestly, I have no idea. But it’s worth looking into.”

  Larayne leaned back in her chair, then glanced at Bree. “Couldn’t it have been someone else that my father may have contacted? You were closer to him, Bree. Did he say anything to you?”

  “Not about anyone in particular. He did mention that he’d found something. But he said he wanted to check into it some more.”

  Sam looked out the window, saw headlights in the distance coming their direction. He glanced at Bree, then back out the window. “When was this?”

  “Around the time those articles came out about the theft of the endpapers from other first editions.” She looked down at the water glass in her hand, turning it in her fingers. “But then the robbery happened, and—” She turned an apologetic smile toward Remi, saying, “I never meant for any of this to happen. Not to you. I would never have mentioned the book to you if I’d known. I swear.”

  “Do not,” Remi said, “b
lame yourself for what happened.”

  The detective arrived and took their statements. He seemed particularly interested in the man Sam had shot. Probably because the body was gone by the time they got to the warehouse. “You’re sure you shot someone?” he asked Sam.

  “Positive.”

  “Whoever’s involved in this didn’t want him identified.”

  In the midst of all this, a CSI arrived, and Larayne, more nervous than ever, sipped at her vodka while she watched the woman dusting for prints. In Remi’s opinion, Larayne had had far too much to drink—not that anyone could blame her.

  It was nearly five in the evening when the detective completed his investigation, then offered to give Sam and Remi a ride to their rental car since they were going to tow the SUV for evidence.

  Sam accepted, and Remi turned to Bree, asking, “Would you like to fly back to California with us?”

  Bree seemed torn as she eyed her cousin. “I don’t want to leave Larayne alone.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” Larayne said. “I’m gonna have a friend come get me. Go. I’ll be fine.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m not alone,” she said, nodding to the woman dusting for prints. “If my friend doesn’t get here by then, I’ll get a ride to his place with the CSI. If that’s okay. He’s just a mile up the road.”

  The CSI agreed, saying it wouldn’t be a problem.

  “Then, yes,” Bree said to Remi. “I’ll go with you.”

  Two hours later, they arrived at the hangar where the jet awaited.

  Sam and Remi changed out of their damp clothes that were covered in glass dust from the SUV’s broken window. While Sam was up front in the cockpit discussing their travel plans with the crew, Remi sat with Bree at the table in the main cabin.

  Bree was talking on the phone. “Why don’t you try to get some rest. I’ll call as soon as I get home . . . Talk to you then.”

  When Bree disconnected, Remi asked, “Everything okay?”

  “I just wanted to check in with Larayne to see if her friend had picked her up. He did. She’d had quite a bit to drink by the time we got out of there.”