Heat from the crackling fire in the open hearth flooded the living room. Sam had directed Hyrum to sit in the wooden rocking chair he’d positioned in front of the fireplace. Hyrum, still wearing his jacket, was feeling the effects of his close proximity to the flames. Beads of perspiration had formed on his forehead and were now dripping down his face. Sam stood alongside, leaning his elbow on the mantel, watching Hyrum mop his brow. He waited until Hyrum displayed just the right amount of discomfort before he began his questioning. Right on cue, Ruth rose from the couch and headed toward the kitchen.
“I’ll make some fresh coffee.”
Sam watched her disappear into the next room. “Paper cups will do, if you have them.” A loud clatter from the kitchen and the banging of cabinet doors satisfied Sam that she had heard.
“None for me,” Hyrum said. He was ready.
Sam now went into his interrogation mode. “Tell me about your relationship with Sylvia Radcliffe.”
“She was a patient. I saw her four, maybe five times for dental work. That’s all.”
“I know that you and Sylvia were having an affair, Doctor. I could prove it in court, but I don’t think it will do much good for your dental practice or for your marriage if I do.”
“There’s no need to threaten me, Lieutenant. Yes, I admit Sylvia and I were close, but I had nothing to do with her death. As a matter of fact, I was out of town the night she was killed. And I can prove it.”
Sam smiled and paced in front of Hyrum’s chair. “Yes, that’s right; your wife said you both were together on that night.”
Ruth stepped out of the kitchen and watched Hyrum closely, looking for any sign, gesture, or behavioral tic that might help determine his truthfulness. Hyrum sat tall in the wooden chair, looking around the room.
Sam had been less than honest about claiming he could prove that Hyrum and Sylvia were having an affair, but the ruse paid off.
“Where exactly were you that night?” Sam asked, calling Hyrum’s bluff.
Hyrum looked directly into Sam’s accusing blue eyes. “I was in New York, one hundred and twenty miles away. I have the hotel receipt, a parking receipt from the garage, and a citation for speeding that one of your comrades-in-arms presented to me. I’m sure, if you check, you will find witnesses to prove my whereabouts.”
Ruth watched Sam take this crushing blow with grace and dignity. He spoke with no discernible emotion. “And of course your wife was with you all night. Isn’t that what she said?”
Ruth focused on Hyrum’s eyes. When he answered the question about his whereabouts on that evening, he had shifted his eyes toward the upper left, a sign that he was recalling memories of the past, but now he was directing his eyes toward the upper right. It was a sign that he was creating images. Ruth was sure that his next statement was going to be a lie.
“Yes, of course, she was with me all night.”
Ruth stood in the doorway to the living room, holding a tray containing a carafe of coffee and three cups. She caught Sam’s eye and slowly shook her head from side to side. Sam looked confused at first, but then nodded. He moved into the center of the room, directly in front of the fireplace.
Sam decided that an accusation might shake Hyrum’s alibi loose. He beat down his desire to grab Hyrum and shake the truth out of him and instead calmly declared, “So you ensured that you had a strong alibi while your accomplice committed the murder. If you forced your wife to lie for you, let me remind you that she could be considered an accessory, and she would be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.”
Hyrum reached across to the sofa. He seized a pillow by its corner and pulled it onto his lap, holding it as a barrier between himself and Sam Peirce. “Leave Elaine out of this. She had nothing to do with these murders,” he yelled.
Ruth again caught Sam’s eye and shook her head.
Sam paused and then changed the subject. “Were you meeting someone here, your accomplice perhaps?”
Hyrum sat back in his chair and looked at the ceiling.
“Were you meeting the person in the silver car who has been following me for two days?” Ruth asked.
“Someone has been following you in a silver car?” Sam said, walking across the room to Ruth.
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it later.”
“Tell me about it now,” Sam insisted.
“It’s nothing. It’s probably the same person who was chasing me through the woods the first night.”
“Who was chasing you through the woods?” Sam and Hyrum said together and then looked at each other.
“I don’t know; I never got a good look at him.”
“Him?” said Hyrum.
“Who were you coming here to meet?” Sam asked. He turned, stood behind Hyrum, and placed his hands on the back of Hyrum’s chair.
“No one—I drove up here to make sure Dr. Klein was all right,” he said over his shoulder. “The police officers who stopped to ask if I had seen anything unusual the night of the break-in at Dr. Klein’s office told me that they had not been able to contact her. I was concerned.”
“How did you know she was here?” Sam asked. “It took the police several days to discover she had come to this cabin.”
“It wasn’t so difficult,” Hyrum said. Sam’s eyebrows rose at the remark. He tilted Hyrum’s chair back and looked over the back so that they were face-to-face. Hyrum gripped the arms of the chair to keep from sliding back on the seat. “A flier from the real estate broker was pinned to the bulletin board in the lobby. I thought Dr. Klein might have seen it. So, on a hunch I called the broker. She gave me the location of the cabin.” “Did you tell the broker you were looking for Dr. Klein?” Sam locked eyes with Hyrum Green. “Or did you pretend that you were interested in renting the cabin, pretending that Ruth, Dr. Klein”—he nodded to Ruth as he corrected himself—“recommended you call?”
“Look, Lieutenant, I thought Dr. Klein…Ruth…was alone here. I thought maybe you could use some company,” he said, turning to Ruth again as he spoke. Ruth shook her head and instinctively stepped back a few steps.
“I didn’t know that the two of you were”—Hyrum paused—“together.”
“We’re not together,” Sam said, releasing the back of the rocking chair, which caused Hyrum to pitch forward. “I’m here on police business.”
“That was a fast reply,” Ruth said, folding her arms across her chest. “I thought you drove here because you were worried about me.”
“Well, yes,” Sam said, turning toward Ruth. Sam tried to determine how he could explain this without hurting her feelings yet maintain a strictly business relationship. “I was concerned that you weren’t answering your calls. I thought the murderer might have followed you up here.”
Ruth took two steps closer to Sam. “I can take care of myself. I had a plan. I was ready for all contingencies.”
“Really,” Sam replied. “Were you going to shoot your attacker with the safety still set on your shotgun?”
“You’re not going to let that go, are you?”
“You would have gotten yourself killed,” Sam yelled.
“Yes, and you already have two dead bodies,” Ruth said. “I guess a third dead body would make the department look bad.”
“If you two are busy, I can come back later,” Hyrum said.
“Shut up!” Sam and Ruth said in unison.
Hyrum mopped the sweat from his forehead with his handkerchief, stood, and stepped away from the fire. “I came up here thinking Dr. Klein might be lonely. I made a mistake. If you’re going to arrest me, do it. If not, I’ll leave you to your discussion of police business. I didn’t know that you liked each other.”
“We don’t like each other.” The moment the words left her mouth, she wanted to take them back.
Now Sam looked hurt. He folded his arms across his chest.
“What I mean is we’re here because we’re working together on this case—or should I say we’re both working on the case, not necessarily together.”
“I’m working on this case,” Sam said. “You are…” Sam stopped as Hyrum walked to the window. Another pair of headlights in the parking area was illuminating the path leading to the cabin. The car stopped beside Hyrum’s Mercedes and extinguished its headlights. Sam stepped alongside Hyrum and lifted the curtain for a better look. The driver of the car remained inside the vehicle, shrouded in darkness. “Who is it?” Sam asked Hyrum.
“How should I know? Maybe you have guests,” Hyrum said, not looking at Sam. Sam removed his gun from his shoulder holster and motioned for Hyrum to step out onto the porch. At first Sam wanted to use Hyrum as a shield to protect himself from Hyrum’s accomplice, but what if it wasn’t Hyrum’s accomplice? What if Hyrum was innocent and the real murderer shot Hyrum while in Sam’s custody? Sam decided they would all be safer if Sam went alone. He removed the pair of handcuffs from his waistband and placed one end on Hyrum’s wrist, pulled the wrist around the pillar supporting the porch roof, and fastened the other end of the cuffs to Hyrum’s other wrist. Then he began to creep toward the parking lot.
“Don’t shoot her,” Hyrum yelled. “I’m sure she’s unarmed. Elaine! Run!”
Sam looked confused at first. Then he began to run toward the parked car. “Step out of the car,” he called, “and let me see your hands.”
“Please,” Elaine Green cried, “I wasn’t trying to help him escape. I was just trying to protect Dr. Klein.”
“From whom?” Ruth asked, suddenly appearing behind Sam.
“Will you stop doing that?” he said, turning toward her.
Ruth walked to the rear of the vehicle and looked at the license plate.
“This is the car that has been following me.” Ruth turned toward the porch of the cabin. Hyrum had slumped into a sitting position, hugging the pillar and quietly sobbing. “You were protecting me from your husband, weren’t you?” Ruth said.
Elaine Green stepped out of the car and began to run to Hyrum. Sam caught her by the wrist and pulled her back. Her other arm reached out into empty space toward her husband.
“Don’t hurt her,” Hyrum shouted, not having heard any of the recent conversation. “She didn’t mean to kill them. I’m sure it was an accident. It was my fault anyway. If I hadn’t cheated, she would never have done it.”
Elaine stopped pulling against Sam’s grip. She turned to Ruth. “Done what?” she asked.
“Kill Sylvia Radcliffe, your husband’s lover.”
Elaine now turned to Lieutenant Peirce. “I didn’t kill Sylvia Radcliffe. I knew they were lovers, but I didn’t kill her. I thought Hyrum did.”
“No, he didn’t,” Ruth interjected, bringing Elaine’s attention back to her. “He has a strong alibi for the night of the murder.”
“Well, so do I,” Elaine said. “Who told you I killed Sylvia?”
“Actually no one, but your husband implied—”
“Can I get a word in here?” Sam shouted. “Let’s all walk quietly to the cabin and continue this discussion inside.”
***
By eight o’clock that evening, Elaine Green had offered her alibi for the night of Sylvia’s murder. She assured them that the nine women present at her book club meeting would satisfy the need for proof of her whereabouts. She even began, much to Sam’s annoyance, to describe the novel that had been the subject of the meeting.
They both explained how Michelle Ackerman had been blackmailing Hyrum, another fact that Elaine Green had known for quite some time. Neither of the pair had thought the other was involved in that murder since they were in fact together on that night and could prove it to Sam. Besides, no evidence existed to tie either one of them to Michelle’s murder. Several cups of coffee later, Dr. and Mrs. Green were free to leave, both glad to know his or her spouse was not a killer, yet concerned that each thought the other might have been.
Sam and Ruth stood on the porch and watched the two cars drive away. “What a trusting couple,” Sam said.
“Did you see her face when she realized that her husband thought she was capable of murder?” Ruth asked.
“Couple that with his philandering, and I would expect Mrs. Green to be visiting her lawyer as soon as she gets back.” Sam laughed. He placed his hand on Ruth’s shoulder, then immediately dropped it to his side and began to talk about the weather. Ruth smiled as he babbled on about the possibility of snow in the next few days.
Sam knew that Ruth’s car was disabled with four flat tires. He knew that he should have arranged to either borrow a car from the Greens or secure a ride from them to the nearest town that had a motel for himself and Dr. Klein, but he still thought he could find his own car with a modicum of effort. Or maybe, for some masochistic reason, he wanted to spend more time alone with Ruth.
Ruth, on the other hand, remembered full well that they had no means of leaving the cabin tonight. She told herself that she should bring this fact to Sam’s attention before the Greens left, but she just couldn’t seem to get the words out.
“I’m going to find my car so we can drive to West Haven and check into a hotel,” Sam said, raising the collar on his jacket.
“You’ll never find your car in the dark. Why don’t we stay here tonight? I’m sure I can whip up something to eat, and I have a bottle of wine I brought from home.”
Sam thought about the invitation. He hadn’t had dinner, and a glass of wine after this exasperating evening sounded good, but he didn’t want to sound too anxious.
“Maybe I should look for the car tonight. I think it was somewhere near the lake. That’s not too far, is it?”
Ruth responded a little too quickly. “You’re going to leave me alone with a tire-slashing killer out in the woods.”
“I thought you had a plan, you were prepared, and you had all the contingencies covered.”
“I do, I mean I did, but I would probably forget to release the safety if I were attacked.” She chortled.
“OK, I give up.” Sam sighed.
“How did you know that Hyrum didn’t cut your tires?” Sam asked. “He didn’t, but how did you know?”
“When he stepped out of his car, his shoes were clean. There’s mud all around my car. I’ve been tracking it into the house for the last three days.”
“That was a very astute observation. You may be of some value to this case yet.”
“Thank you for the compliment. Keep it up, and I may not burn your steak.”
Sam walked out to the woodpile and gathered several logs in his arms. He wondered if staying the night was a good idea. Ruth always seemed to push his buttons. Well, he wouldn’t let her get to him tonight—although, he began to wonder if anger was the emotion he needed to control. Slightly confused, he shook the thoughts out of his mind and carried the logs to the fireplace.
Ruth was waiting with two glasses of wine and some sort of soft cheese and crackers on a plate. The smell of steaks sizzling under the broiler wafted into the living room. Ruth asked how Sam liked his steak cooked. He said rare. Ruth jumped from the couch, ran to the kitchen, and shouted, “Too late, how about medium rare?”
“Medium rare is fine,” Sam said.
After dinner they sat on the shag rug in front of the fire, their backs against the base of the sofa. Ruth’s knees were pulled up to her chest. Sam sprawled with his feet facing the hearth. They watched the tongues of flame lick the sides of the fireplace andirons, and both jumped closer together when a loud pop from a crackling log startled them.
“What caused you to become a police officer?” Ruth finally asked. “Was it something you always wanted to do?”
Sam took a long pull from his wineglass and filled both glasses again before answering. “I don’t think I ever thought about what I wanted to do. After high school I had no money for college, and I had no job. Then one day I talked to an army recruiter. He told me about the opportunities to get an education in the service and to build a career. To do something I could be proud of rather than settle for a factory job. I didn’t really believe him, but I guess I was bored and ready to get out of that small town.” Ruth tucked her feet under her and turned in Sam’s direction, slowly sipping her wine.
He continued, “They sent me to schools for several different military jobs, but I guess I had no mind to concentrate on schoolwork, and I was flunking out of every class I took. I had an attitude back then—”
“As opposed to now,” Ruth interrupted. “I’m sorry, please go on.”
“I had an attitude back then.” He paused and looked at her. “And I got into more than my share of fights. I thought they were going to throw me out, but they decided I might be useful as an MP. I joined the military police and found that police work was something I could do well. At first I was a bit of a hard-ass—sorry—but after a while I got all hung up on the ‘protect and serve’ part of the job. I felt I was finally doing something useful. After I got out of the army, I joined the Philadelphia Police Department and attended Penn State at night until I earned a degree. I worked my way through the ranks and eventually made lieutenant. It’s been twenty years, but I still feel a great deal of satisfaction when I get a bad guy off the street.”
“That’s wonderful. It’s not easy to decide what you want to do with your life. I envy people who find their place.”
“Are you kidding? You’re a doctor, for Christ’s sake. You have an incredibly useful profession. You help people. They come to you, and you solve their problems; you help them put their lives back together.”
Ruth placed her hand on Sam’s shoulder; he stiffened slightly. “Thank you for saying that. Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing anyone any good. I do believe I was making some headway with Sylvia Radcliffe just before she died. In our last few sessions, she really opened up to me. She began to bare her soul.”
“I guess it can be frustrating,” Sam said, “to hear her problems, to offer her suggestions, and then have her not listen.”
Ruth sat up a little taller. “I don’t understand, not listen to what?”
“Well, when Sylvia told you that she and Mort Banks were burglarizing homes for more than a year, I’m sure you advised her to turn herself in.”
“What?” Ruth cried. “Sylvia was in a burglary ring? Oh God! I didn’t know anything about her. I knew it—I’m a fraud. I’m nothing but a fraud.” Ruth placed her glass on the floor behind her, pulled a tissue out of her pocket, and began to dab at her eyes. “I thought we had a breakthrough because she told me about her childhood, but I knew nothing about her life.”
Sam leaned forward and pulled Ruth close to him. “That’s not true. You were making progress. I’ll bet that within a few weeks, she would have told you everything, or maybe she just didn’t want to put you on the spot. She may have been just trying to protect your relationship.”
“You really think so?” Ruth placed her head on Sam’s broad shoulder.
Now Sam was caught a little off guard, but he rose to his knees and placed a reassuring arm around her waist and pulled her close. He could feel her breasts heaving against his chest as her breathing became more rapid. He felt a quickening of her heartbeat, or was that his?
Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the sexual tension that had accumulated over weeks of taunts and jibes. The attraction had been there from the beginning; it just had been channeled into other areas. Now their defenses were down. The warm glow of the fire was no match for the fire within. Sam pulled her to the floor and leaned over her body. They gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment, and then kissed. At first it was just a brushing of the lips. A delicate touch as Ruth softly nibbled his lower lip, then a release of passion as their mouths opened and came together. The kiss was long and deep as Sam settled on top of her, making contact with the full length of her body.
***
A screech owl in a pine tree shouted at the car parked on the side of the road. He moved his head from side to side, watching the human in the car. Then he leaped into flight when the man lifted his head from the steering wheel and stretched his arms.
Franklin blinked his eyes and rubbed his neck, trying to get the kinks out. He wondered how long he had slept. He had left home just after Lieutenant Peirce had paid him a visit. Just after Franklin found Dr. Klein’s stolen patient files and her calendar conspicuously placed on his sofa and in his telephone stand. The burglar who robbed Dr. Klein’s office obviously had been in his home.
Why would the burglar leave the stolen files in his living room? The files gave the burglar, or maybe he was the murderer, enough information to discover where Dr. Klein was vacationing, just as Franklin had. Franklin thumbed through the file folders and examined the single page from Dr. Klein’s calendar and tossed them onto the passenger seat. “Shit,” he cried. All of a sudden it had become very clear. He was being set up.
Franklin started the engine of his car and pulled back onto the road, tires spinning and gravel spitting into the air. He chastised himself for not seeing it before: the murderer was after Dr. Klein. By leaving the files in Franklin’s house, he knew that Franklin would put two and two together and assume that the murderer now knew where to find Dr. Klein. Franklin watched the speedometer rise…seventy, eighty miles per hour.
Then another thought struck him. He was playing right into the murderer’s hands. He was going to the cabin where the murderer may have already killed Dr. Klein. Now he was about to show up at the murder scene with the stolen files in his car. Franklin pressed hard on the brake and skidded to a stop at the side of the road. If Dr. Klein had been murdered, and he was caught here with the stolen files, he would have a tough time proving his innocence. Then he thought, What if he hasn’t killed her yet? Maybe there is still time. He stomped on the accelerator again, satisfied that even a chance to save Ruth Klein’s life was worth the risk of being a suspect for her murder if he were too late.
The person who had broken into his house and left the files must be the murderer—but who? For weeks he had seen a man who looked to him as Dennis would at this age. A man who always disappeared into the shadows when Franklin tried to talk to him. A man always just out of reach. Could Dennis be behind the killings and the burglary? And was Dennis trying to blame it all on him? Had Dennis’s anger toward him grown out of all proportion with the passing of time? Was he now exacting his revenge for being abandoned so many years ago? No, the punishment would be far greater than the crime. No one in his right mind…
Franklin turned onto Destiny Road and slowly proceeded up the narrow gravel lane. He shut off his headlights and continued with only fog lights. Up ahead he could see a parked car. He turned off his ignition and let his car roll in neutral. It managed to roll about ten feet from the parked car. Now it became clear—he was too late. Dr. Klein’s car had four flat tires. The murderer was already here. He must have disabled her car so she couldn’t get away. Franklin hesitated before stepping into the mud of the parking area. He looked at his shoes, but since they were already covered with mud it didn’t matter. He stepped from the car, his cane in his hand, and began to walk to the cabin. The dim light from the fireplace flickered through the window, guiding him down the path to the front door.
Franklin carefully negotiated the front stone steps and stepped onto the wooden porch, being careful not to let his cane click against the floorboards. He flattened out against the wall and made his way to the window. The flames in the hearth were the only light in the cabin. Franklin searched the room, looking for any sign of life. He was too late. The sofa was blocking his view, but he could see a pair of feet, a woman’s feet, Dr. Klein’s feet, extending past its end. On the floor next to her naked foot was a dark-red pool of liquid seeping into the rug—blood.
Franklin squeezed his eyes shut. Could this be another dream? What was it Dr. Klein had told him to do? Press your thumb into your palm. If your thumb penetrates your palm, you are not awake. His palm was solid. This was no dream. He looked through the window again. The feet seemed to be moving slightly. She was alive. Then suddenly he saw a figure. The back of a shirtless man and part of his head rose above the sofa and fell back again behind it, hovering over his victim. What is he doing to her? Franklin had to save her. Dr. Klein was one of the few people in his life who had tried to help him. Now it was his turn to help her.
Franklin worked his way to the door and carefully tried the doorknob. It turned. He pushed the door open and raised his cane over his head. “Leave her alone,” he yelled.
Sam Peirce immediately rolled to the left and reached for his shoulder holster hanging on the side of the rocking chair. “Stay down, I’ve got him,” he yelled to Ruth.
Ruth looked up while pulling her blouse closed and yelled, “Franklin, what are you doing here? Sam, wait; it’s Franklin.”
Franklin suddenly realized his mistake. He could now see that the red liquid on the rug was the result of a carelessly placed glass of red wine and that he had entered the cabin at a very inopportune moment.
“I’m sorry,” he cried. “I thought you were being attacked.”
Ruth checked to see that her body was adequately covered and said, “Easy, Sam; Franklin thought he was saving me.”
“I don’t care. I’m going to shoot him anyway,” Sam said, pulling his automatic from its holster.
Franklin squatted close to the floor and covered his head with his hands. Sam placed his gun back in its holster and sighed. “Don’t you ever knock?”
An hour later Franklin was still apologizing for his mistake, Ruth was trying to pretend that she was not completely humiliated, and Sam still wanted to shoot Franklin.
***
“I’m here because I thought you were in trouble. I thought someone might be trying to hurt you,” Franklin said again, following Ruth into the kitchen as she scraped the dinner dishes and stacked them in the sink.
“You saw it all in another dream, right?” Sam said, leaning against the doorway.
“Let it go, Sam,” Ruth said, giving Sam a stern look. “Franklin, what made you think I was in danger?” Sam folded his arms and stared at Franklin, waiting for an answer.
“Can I tell you in private?” Franklin asked. “I’m afraid that anything I say right now might get me arrested—or shot.”
Sam threw his hands in the air. “If you have any evidence of anyone trying to—”
“Sam,” Ruth interrupted, “I’m his doctor; if he wants to speak to me in private, he should have that opportunity. Now it’s very late, Franklin—do you have a place to stay for the night?”
“Well…” Franklin began.
“OK, then,” Ruth said. “We’ll all stay here for tonight, and in the morning Franklin and I will have a therapy session before we leave for home. We have two bedrooms. Sam and I will each take one, and there is a folding bed we can open in the living room for you, Franklin.”
Sam’s stare was somewhere between utter disappointment and rage. Then he took a deep breath. “Franklin will take the second bedroom; I’ll sleep out here to ensure that everyone is safe.”
“Thank you, Sam,” Ruth said. “I’m sorry, but it’s been a long day. I think we’re all very tired and should get some sleep.” Ruth smiled a faint smile and disappeared into her bedroom.
Franklin opened the door to the second bedroom and said, “Thank you, Lieutenant, for letting me stay.”
Sam Peirce nodded. “Stay in your room until tomorrow.”
Franklin was about to ask why when the lieutenant looked directly into his eyes and gently tapped the Sig Sauer automatic, now tucked in his belt.
“Right,” Franklin said and closed the door.