Looking Through Darkness (34 page)

“Where are the cabinets in reference to the counter?” he asked. “Above or below?”

“Both, and they all have locks,” she said. “Rachel and I looked inside those already.”

“Did you open everything you found inside there?”

“Mostly, yes, but there were a few toolboxes and containers we didn't bother with for one reason or another. Also, we were afraid of spiders.”

“Let's go through everything now—again.”

“What about spiders?”

“Shine the light in first, and put on some gloves, just to be safe,” he suggested.

She did, but all she found in the top cabinets were small tools, nails and screws, and containers holding sandpaper, steel wool, paintbrushes, rollers, and other hardware items. Leigh Ann narrated as she went, so Melvin knew what was going on. Then she started on the bottom cabinets, working right to left.

“The first cabinet has no lock. Inside, all I can see are gallon paint cans, stacked two high. Kurt would always save leftover paint, planning to use it for touch-ups or second or third coats.”

“Start looking in the cabinets themselves. Is there anything that doesn't seem to belong, or looks like a recent repair?”

She aimed the flashlight around the cabinet interior. “There's a raised back panel and, hold on, I think I see a place for a key on the inside corner. Then again, it might just be a small rodent hole; I can't get a clear enough aim with the flashlight. I'd need to get these paint cans out of the way first.”

“Hand them to me and I'll set them aside,” Melvin said.

Leigh Ann got down on her knees and removed the cans one at a time. Melvin took them and within a few minutes they'd set all twelve paint cans onto the garage floor.

“There
is
a locked panel set into the back of the cabinet,” Leigh Ann said, excited now. “Melvin, let me give you the flashlight, I'll tell you where to aim it, and we'll see if the key fits.”

After a few seconds of guiding his hand, the light was positioned on the metal keyhole.

“Perfect, now don't move,” she said.

Leigh Ann inserted the key and pulled open the hinged door. “Crap! After all this, it's empty. Not even a cobweb,” she said, looking closely, then closing it back up again.

“Guess somebody got to it first,” Melvin said.

“I've had it. That money's meant to stay lost,” she said. “Let's go get dinner. Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, starved,” he said, stepping back. His foot bumped against one of the paint cans.

“Let's put these back first. Hand them to me one by one, okay?” she asked.

“Good idea,” he said, handing her the can he'd kicked. Leigh Ann slid it back inside the cabinet and reached for the next can.

Melvin was holding the second paint can with a funny look on his face. “This can is awfully light, and I felt something shift inside this when I picked it up. There's something solid in there, but liquid paint flows and dried paint shouldn't be moving at all. You'd better check it out.”

“Let me get something to pry the lid off with.” She hurried over to the pegboard, grabbed a screwdriver, then returned and opened the can.

“Green everywhere,” she said in an awed whisper, “and I don't mean paint.”

“Greenbacks, maybe?”

“More cash than I've ever seen in my life. It's in tight rolls of twenties, fifties, and even hundreds. This is it, Melvin, the mother lode.”

“We'd better check out the rest of the cans,” he said. “More than one of them felt pretty light, but until now I was thinking it was just leftovers saved for touch-ups.”

Five minutes later they walked back into the living room area carrying four gallon paint cans, each stuffed with rolls of bills fastened with rubber bands.

Leigh Ann lowered the cans she was carrying onto the carpet beside the sofa. “I'm going to call Dale. He'll know what needs to be done next. I imagine the lab will want to check the cans for prints. At least I still had gloves on and we knew to stop touching the sides and tops after we found the first stash.”

“Call, then afterwards we'll celebrate with a nice dinner. Then I can show you the sculpture,” Melvin said cheerfully, putting down the two containers he was carrying before edging his way over to the sofa and sitting down.

“Sounds wonderful,” she whispered, listening as the phone rang at the other end.

Dale didn't pick up the call, so Leigh Ann left a voice mail. “Dale, we found some stolen money. I'll stick around at home for another half hour in case you want to come pick it up. If I don't hear from you before then, I'll drop it off by the sheriff's office on my way to Melvin Littlewater's house. I don't want to be responsible for it any longer than I have to. Call me as soon as you can, okay?” She put down the phone.

“Leigh Ann, you don't know when he'll check his messages. Unless you also notify Detective McGraw, he's going to be pissed thinking you're deliberately shutting him out of this. You'd be better off letting him share the credit. You really don't need an enemy in the sheriff's department right now.”

“Maybe you're right. Let me get his business card out of my tote.”

Suddenly Melvin stood up, holding his finger to his mouth in a gesture of silence.

“Someone's outside,” he whispered, pointing across the room toward the patio, which was adjacent to the kitchen and dining area.

Leigh Ann looked over just as a glass panel shattered on one of the French doors. Seeing a hand reach through, groping for the doorknob, she screamed. The .38 was in her tote bag on the dining room table, which was sitting less than six feet from where the intruder was trying to gain entry.

“You bitch! You're going to pay for ruining my life,” Pierre Boone spat out. Struggling to turn the lock, he cut his hand on a jagged piece of glass and cursed as blood flowed, marring the white doorframe.

“Out the front,” Leigh Ann told Melvin, flinching as more glass broke and splintered.

Grabbing Melvin's hand, she'd only taken a step when a gun went off and a bullet struck the wall just ahead of her. She turned to see Pierre aiming his pistol at them through the broken pane. She jumped back just before another bullet struck even closer to them, lodging in the wall.

“Upstairs,” she whispered, leading Melvin as she dialed 911 with one hand. Pierre fired again, shattering the mirror above the sofa.

As they reached the second story, her call connected and she spoke quickly to the dispatcher even as she pulled Melvin down the hall to her bedroom. The second they were both inside, Leigh Ann closed the door behind them and turned the key in the lock.

There was a loud crash downstairs. Pierre had probably given up on the lock and kicked open the door. It was dark in the bedroom, but Leigh Ann knew the layout by heart. Moving quickly, she led Melvin to the dresser.

“Help me push this against the door,” she said, putting his hand on the top. They both leaned into the effort and inched the chest into place.

Hearing uneven footsteps coming slowly up the stairs, like Pierre was limping, she unplugged a brass table lamp and stood on one side of the door, ready to use the lamp as a club if Pierre managed to get in. She'd lost track of Melvin, but before she could locate him her attention was diverted by the sound of the bedroom doorknob rattling. A second later, wood splintered, but the door only gave a few inches.

Leigh Ann heard Pierre grunting, trying to overcome the weight of the dresser. She was afraid it was only a matter of seconds before he got in.

“Pierre, take the money, all of it,” Leigh Ann yelled through the door. “Kurt hid it in those paint cans downstairs. Take it and run while there's still time. I called the sheriff, and the deputies are on their way.”

“I'll leave, but not before you're dead. You took everything from me. Now you'll pay,” Pierre yelled, slamming against the door again and opening it farther.

He'd moved so silently she hadn't realized that Melvin was beside her until he reached across and pushed the bedroom door shut. Crouching down, his foot blocking the door, he quickly pushed the dresser away, then stepped back.

Leigh Ann instantly figured out what he was hoping to do and moved away, watching the door, ready to jump Pierre and try to grab the gun once he broke through.

She could hear him breathing out in the hall. Then he grunted and rushed the door, slamming into it with full force. The door flew open and Pierre stumbled in, off balance from the sudden lack of resistance.

Melvin lunged forward, tackling Pierre at the knees. “Got you now, bastard!”

Leigh Ann swung the brass lamp at Pierre's head and caught him on the back of the neck. Pierre yelled in pain and fell facedown onto the carpet, the pistol flying out of his hand. Melvin was now on top of Pierre, hanging on to him with both arms.

As the men wrestled on the floor, Leigh Ann spotted the pistol by the edge of the bed and grabbed it. She aimed the semiauto at the head of the man responsible for her husband's death. “Stop struggling and lie still, Pierre, or I'll blow the top of your head clean off!”

“You won't shoot me, you don't have the balls,” Pierre said, trying to break free from Melvin's grip.

Melvin punched Pierre in the jaw. When the man fell back, Melvin pinned him down with an iron grip on his foe's biceps and a knee to his thigh, which was stained with blood. Pierre groaned, blood seeping from what looked like a bullet wound.

Leigh Ann jammed the barrel of the gun into his neck. “I'll kill to protect the ones I love,” she said, her voice vibrating with deadly intent.

Suddenly there was a loud crash downstairs—the sound of splintering wood as another door was kicked in. “Leigh Ann! Where are you?” It was Dale.

“Upstairs! We've got Pierre. Hurry!” she yelled.

Melvin looked in her direction and grinned. “Nice going, beautiful.”

Her hand was shaking so badly she was afraid she'd pull the trigger by mistake, so she moved her index finger aside and took the gun away from Pierre's neck. “What makes you think I'm beautiful?” she teased halfheartedly.

“'Cause I see with my heart.”

There were quick footsteps in the hall and a second later Dale appeared, weapon in his hand. He flipped on the room lights and took in the scene.

“You guys have the worst dates ever,” Dale said, putting away his pistol and bringing out his handcuffs. “Next time, why don't you just take in a movie?”

*   *   *

Dinner wound up being sandwiches from the vending machine at the police station while they gave their statements. Once they were done, Leigh Ann drove them directly to Melvin's home, parked, and followed him inside.

This was the moment she'd looked forward to and now dreaded at the same time. Today, she'd see the sculpture, and after that, it would be time for her to keep her word. Whatever the consequences, there'd be no more secrets between them.

Melvin walked to the table where he kept the whiskey bottle. “I don't need this half-empty reminder here anymore. I know who and what I am.” He held it out. “Enjoy it. My gift to you.”

She took it from his hands. “I'll keep it just as it is—half full—a souvenir of the adventure of a lifetime.”

“Our adventure is only beginning—if you'll allow it,” he said. “I've already had the sculpture fired, so I'm ready to show it to you. Are you ready to keep your end of our bargain—no more secrets?”

“I am,” she answered, amazed at how steady her voice sounded considering her heart was lodged in her throat.

He felt his way into the study and reached up onto the shelf behind his work desk. Removing the dust cover, he presented the sculpture to her.

She took it from him with trembling hands and sat down on the closest chair to study it. Twelve inches high, the figure was made up of two tones of porcelain clay, one-third cream, the other two-thirds a dark gray that was almost black. One of the things that caught her eye was that the line distinguishing light from dark wasn't straight or easily delineated. It was a blend.

The sculpture represented a woman in a short, loosely fitting sleeveless dress. She was sitting on the ground, legs crossed, just to the right of a standing lynx. The woman was half turned to the right from waist up, her left hand resting on the animal's shoulder, behind the animal's head. The woman's head was glancing back along her right shoulder. A curtain of windswept hair hid most of her features, and her right hand was up, clenched into a fist, as if making a challenge.

“It's incredible,” Leigh Ann said in an awed whisper.

He sat next to her on the arm of the chair. “Lynx is the keeper of secrets. She knows many things, but seldom shares her knowledge. She also stands for purpose and action,” he said. “The figure's left hand resting on the animal shows gentleness, the right, intent and willingness to fight.”

“She's looking behind her, just like I've been,” she said in a near whisper.

“Yes, and although the darkness that follows her casts a long shadow, the light within her is too powerful to extinguish.”

“It's who I am inside,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion.

“Do you like it?”

“It's amazing, and the best piece you've ever done.”

“Good,” he said, and smiled, pleased. “I knew you'd never accept this as a gift, so, once I was satisfied with the original, I decided to make a smaller copy, a maquette that I actually finished,” he added, bringing the miniature sculpture out of a cabinet and handing it to her, taking back the larger work.

She looked at the piece now in her hands. It was as perfect as the other. “You've been working on two of them all along! I don't know what to say. What an incredible gift.”

“The sculpture has my heart and your soul. We're a part of each other now,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “No more secrets.”