“So, are you ready for this?” Greg stood outside the back door, wearing jeans, hiking boots and a sweatshirt over a button-down shirt. “I want to make sure that you’re dressed right for this. Have you ever done any serious hiking before?”
“Not really.” Miranda looked down at her outfit. “I borrowed something from everybody, I think. Juliet insisted I take a pair of her old jeans, Winnie gave me a sweater and Portia made sure I had waterproof shoes. She’s so petite I can’t wear anything of hers, but she knows just what to wear for almost anything.”
“I love it. You’ve been dressed by committee. And they did a good job of it, too. All I might recommend is a hat.”
Miranda felt herself blushing. “I’ve actually got one, but it’s so out of my usual realm that I left it in my room. Mick left a Police Association ball cap here and Portia insisted I take it. I’ve never worn a ball cap in my entire life.”
“I bet you’d look cute in it, though. But then I’m beginning to believe you might look cute in just about anything.”
He was actually flirting with her! Miranda found herself grinning. Maybe with Greg she might even learn to flirt back.
“Come on in and let’s get this going,” she said. “The first thing I want to do is go down into the basement and make sure that the door there is unlocked. I don’t want to go into the cave that way. It would feel like cheating. But if we stay in there past high tide in a couple hours, I want to make sure we have a way out.”
“Good thinking. It sounds like between us we might have this covered.”
For the first time Miranda noticed the backpack Greg carried. “Does this mean you’ve got supplies in there?”
“Just the basics. Sometimes I break the cardinal rule of most outdoor activity and hike alone. I know you’re not supposed to do that, but some weeks my hike on Monday or Tuesday is my only real alone time.” He shrugged. “Janice worries when I do that, so I try to reassure her by carrying this. In it is my cell phone, a couple bottles of water, a flashlight, rope and a very small first-aid kit. All that is probably overkill for a cave that’s directly under your house, but I thought it might reassure you.”
“It does.” She’d known Greg was a clearheaded kind of guy, and now she had proof. Any lingering doubt she’d had about this excursion evaporated. By now they were in the basement facing the heavy door that led into the cellar passageway. Miranda took a set of keys from a hook near the door and unlocked both locks. She tried the knob and, after a little work, the heavy door swung inward, letting in a blast of cold, dank air. “At least we have proof that we can get through that way,” she said.
Leaving the lights on, they went upstairs. Greg followed along while Miranda got her cap. “Maybe afterward I’ll show you my studio,” she told him as they went down the back stairs to the first floor. With Gregory beside her that incident of hearing eerie music several weeks ago felt half a lifetime away.
Outside in the sunshine it felt ever further away. It didn’t take long to get down to the beach and stand before the entrance to the cave. Miranda took a deep breath. “Well, let’s do it.”
“In a moment. I think we should say a prayer together first.” Greg faced her and took her hands in his. How did the man keep such warm hands all the time? “Lord, thank You for this wonderful day. Please keep us safe on this adventure together, and show us the wonders of this small part of Your world. Guide us in the direction You would have us go. We ask all this in Jesus’ name.”
“Amen,” Miranda said. What had prompted Greg to add that part about guidance? She didn’t know whether to ask him about it or not, so she stayed quiet. Greg took two flashlights out of his pack and they went into the cave.
For a while the path was fairly wide, and the size of the entrance let in a fair amount of light. “I can see why it would be dangerous at high tide.” Miranda played her flashlight over the uneven floor. In some places there was smooth rock, but in others sand and piles of beach shale made navigating more difficult. Twice as they went a little farther back into the cave, Greg had to help her step over little rivulets of water. In the half-light it was impossible to tell whether the streams were a few feet deep or bottomless.
After a while the passage narrowed to about seven feet across. “I can imagine smugglers using this for a hideout, can’t you?” Greg motioned with his flashlight down a passage branching off from the main way. “The maps at the Historical Society show at least half-a-dozen places that could have been used as storerooms.”
Miranda shivered, glad now that she had Winnie’s sweater on over her shirt. The deeper they went, the cooler and moister the air in the cave. “Do you think any of the little splashing noises might be rats?”
“It could be,” Greg said. “But I think it’s more likely just dripping water someplace, or maybe a pool back here somewhere that’s deep enough for small fish or some frogs. Even rats need some daylight part of the time.”
He squeezed her hand and Miranda squeezed back, glad that he hadn’t let her go after fording the last little wet spot. Some men might have laughed at her fear, but Greg had simply calmly reassured her instead.
The passageway sloped downward a little and widened into a room. In the light of Greg’s larger flashlight Miranda could see a few crates stacked in a far corner, and several barrels in another. “Probably leftovers from our rum-running friends,” Greg said. “I wonder if we’re looking at evidence of pirates or bootleggers.”
“Either way, it’s good to think that for a change there’s proof of something nefarious going on in Stoneley that didn’t involve my family. Even Grandfather would have been too young during Prohibition to be involved with anything down here.”
“True,” Greg agreed. “Although I imagine the old gentleman might have a few stories if we asked him. You know, many people with Alzheimer’s have less trouble relating an incident from their youth than telling you what they did yesterday.”
Miranda wondered what Howard might have to say about the caves and their possible contents. Had the cellar been built the way it was on purpose, to access the smugglers’ caves? Perhaps for a change she could have a conversation with her grandfather that might leave him in a better mood than she found him. The thought made her smile.
Somewhere ahead Miranda heard a small, liquid-sounding plop. Training her flashlight on the area she thought the sound came from, she didn’t see a frog or anything more threatening, but something caught the light and glittered.
“I want to see what’s over there,” she told Greg, pointing the beam of her light. They crossed the broad expanse, and Miranda stumbled a little several times while trying to avoid small pools of water. Once something made the surface beneath them slippery, and she almost fell.
“Maybe you might be better off over there.” Greg motioned to where a stone outcropping made what looked like a low bench coming out of the side of the cave wall. Miranda nodded and splashed over to the spot.
“Do you see anything else?” she asked a few minutes later when Greg reached the spot where she’d seen something that caught her eye.
“I do, but I’m not sure how to make sense of it all. I’ll bring it over to you and maybe with the two lights together it will be clearer.” Greg shifted his light to his left hand and picked up two small objects with his right. Picking his way carefully to where Miranda sat, he put his treasures down beside her.
“Are you sure you don’t have kids from town sneaking around here to party?” Greg’s expression looked fairly serious. “Although there aren’t any cans strewn around, and no evidence that anyone has made a fire.” He seemed to be deep in thought about something, and Miranda looked at the objects he’d laid down.
In the shared beam of their flashlights Miranda saw a syringe and needle, and a discarded pill bottle. Now she could see why Greg looked worried. Stoneley was small enough that most people felt safe here. If there was some kind of heavy drug trade going on around them, they would feel far less safe.
“Wait a minute.” Miranda picked up the orange plastic bottle. Reading the label stunned her. “This is one of Grandfather’s prescriptions. How on earth did it get down here? And why? Was there anything else strange where you found the bottle and the needle?”
“Not right there. But go over with me. I want to use both lights to search that niche in the wall.”
Greg led her carefully across the uneven cave floor and directed her where to shine her light. “There. Do you see it?” On a ledge about five feet up something shone in the beams of light. He slid into the small chamber and reached up on the ledge. Taking the object down, he examined it. “It’s a necklace. Looks like a locket.”
He handed it to Miranda, who felt cold spread through her as she examined the small piece of jewelry in her hand. The heavy twisted gold chain held a filigreed locket with a clasp. Stunned, she handed her flashlight to Gregory. “Hold this and aim it on the locket. My hands are shaking and I want to see what’s inside.”
Taking the flashlight, Greg did as she asked. Trembling, she made three attempts at opening the locket before she succeeded. “There’s something written there.”
“‘To thine own self be true,’” Miranda said, almost in a whisper.
“How can you tell in this poor light?”
“I’ve seen it before.” Miranda wasn’t sure how much longer her knees would let her stand. “I learned how to read script by tracing this. It’s my mother’s locket, Gregory. The one she never took off.”
Greg was afraid he was going to have to drop the flashlights and catch Miranda. Her wide eyes and wavering voice made him fear she was going to pass out on him. She steadied herself against the damp cave wall with one hand. “She’s alive,” she said slowly. “She has to be. The only reason Mama would have taken this off was to leave somebody a message. To leave us a message. It has to mean that she’s been here recently.”
“Are you sure?” Even as Greg asked it, he knew what Miranda would say.
“I’m as sure of this as I’ve been about anything in a long time.” Her eyes were full of tears when she looked up at him. “We have got to get back to the house. If Mama has been this close, and she’s no longer in these caves, then she has to be on the estate somewhere.”
“Let’s go.” Greg put his arm around Miranda and guided her toward the back of the cave, where they hadn’t been yet. He prayed it would be an easy journey. Most of the cave floor felt smoother toward the back of the space, and after a short stretch the narrower passage opened up into a fair-size room. “We’ll come back and explore all of this another time.” Greg gestured toward the stacks of crates and the barrels near a doorway cut into the stone and framed with ancient-looking wood.
They went through the doorway and crossed into the chamber that Greg figured was the one that led into the Blanchard cellar. This looked more like a room or a storehouse, with the stairs Miranda had described yesterday leading up three steps to a landing built of heavy planks. “Come on, Miranda. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”
“I hope so.” Miranda stopped in her tracks. “Gregory! I just realized something. That night I told you about, in my studio. Maybe I wasn’t just imagining I heard music. Maybe it was Mama, trying to get a message to me. If so she’s been in the house for weeks!”
“Then we had better hurry.” Greg turned to lead Miranda across the floor and up the stairs.
“That’s as far as you’re going,” a cold voice said from the landing. The light from the doorway behind the figure made Greg strain to see who it was. He knew he’d heard that voice before, but somehow it sounded different. Today it sounded more detached and more in control than before.
“Peg? Is something wrong with Grandfather?” Miranda hurried toward the blond woman Greg now recognized. In her hurry Miranda pulled away from him, and in the dark she must have hit a damp patch of floor and slipped. Pitching forward with a cry, she fell before Greg could catch her.
“Nothing’s wrong with the old man yet. But give it an hour and he’ll be gone.”
“What are you talking about?” Miranda asked before Greg could. He couldn’t understand what Howard’s nurse meant, or why she suddenly sounded so stern.
“My darling wants him gone. He says the old man has become a nuisance and it’s time for him to go. I think he finally realizes we’re meant to be together. And you certainly aren’t going to get in our way.”
In the time Greg had taken to stoop and help Miranda to her feet, a gun had materialized in Peg’s hand, and it was pointed at Miranda. “You can’t mean that,” he said as calmly as possible. If this woman was as disturbed as she sounded and holding a loaded gun, he couldn’t take a chance on aggravating her.
“Oh, I mean it. I’ve been waiting for the sign that I needed to take action, and yesterday you gave it to me.” Peg pointed the gun in Greg’s direction and he took the opportunity to step slightly in front of Miranda so that he could protect her.
Greg tried to understand what Peg was telling them. What “sign” had he given her that pushed her over the edge? “Ah. You mean that Miranda and I planned to explore the caves,” he said, and was rewarded by a gleam in her eyes.
“Of course. Once you were down here it was only a matter of time before everyone knew that stupid woman was alive. I was pretty sure that Genie hadn’t covered her tracks well enough, but I couldn’t find time to get down here and clean things up. The one time I tried to leave Howard alone that long, it led to even more disaster.” She scowled in disgust. “Leave him in someone else’s care for thirty minutes and that vain Alannah gets to him. After that I couldn’t very well leave him until I got rid of her.”
“Got rid of her? You mean she didn’t commit suicide?” Miranda sounded stunned, and Greg could feel her shivering under his touch. If only Peg would drop her guard for a moment so he could move in.
“No, she didn’t commit suicide,” Peg said, mocking Miranda’s tone perfectly. “But I fooled everyone into thinking she did. No one ever questioned whether that journal was hers, or the validity of the confession I left for the police to find. And Alannah was so easy to kill. She let me in without question once I called her and told her I knew how she could get back into Ronald’s good graces. As if I’d ever do that.”
So many little things were falling into place. Greg wasn’t sure what bothered him more—the way this evil woman’s mind worked, or the fact that he understood her. “You really were watching her when she came here to see Howard, weren’t you? That’s why she complained about feeling she was under surveillance.”
“It wasn’t what I’d planned to do. She just chose the wrong place at the wrong time. She was always so nosy. Some people just ruin everything.” The statement seemed to bring Peg back into the present, and Greg’s heart sank when she took aim on him with the gun again. He had no doubt that it was loaded and that she could use it.
“And I’ve come too far for anybody to ruin things now. Once I’m free, and Ronald is free, everything will just fall into place. I’m too close to that happening to let you come between us now.” She motioned with the gun toward Miranda. “Now step back from this door. Farther. If either of you comes any closer I’ll shoot Miranda.”
The woman might be deranged, but she still knew how to manipulate him, Greg thought. Somehow they had to get out of this without Miranda being harmed. For now he pretended to obey Peg to buy a little time. “Is it worth it, Peg? You’ve already admitted to murdering two people and you seem willing to kill even more, just for Ronald Blanchard.”
“Of course. He loves me.” Peg’s eyes blazed with a fervor that chilled Greg to the bone. “I’ve only done what he told me to.”
“My father told you to kill Alannah? And Genie? I don’t believe that,” Miranda blurted out.
“Naturally. That’s why he dislikes all of you girls so much. You don’t listen to him and you don’t obey him. And now you’re causing more trouble.” Peg raised the gun and Greg turned slightly to push Miranda down where she’d make less of a target. He snapped off the large flashlight as he moved, hoping that the change in light would distract Peg.
All of that angered her and whether it was reflex or intention, she fired the handgun. The sound was overpowering, reverberating off the walls of the cave. Who knew such a small gun would make that much noise and light? He spread himself over Miranda as much as possible to shield her from harm. This time he was determined to do everything he could to protect the one he loved. Old memories crowded in on him, so painful that at first he thought the burning in his shoulder was just a part of the rest of his anguish.
“Stay down,” he told Miranda softly. “In a place like this any shot she fires will ricochet off the walls.”
Miranda reached up toward him silently, and then gasped. “Gregory. She hit you! I feel blood.”
“Good,” Peg crowed. “Keep talking so I can get you, too, Miranda.” She fired again and the shot zinged off a wall all too close for comfort. Even without the light from their flashlights Peg had the advantage, standing in the lit doorway. Greg couldn’t understand why the light behind her seemed to flicker.
Once he did, it was too late. “You two aren’t worth any more effort.” Peg reached behind her and retrieved a torch. She threw it down the stairs and it splintered into several pieces. In seconds the wooden stair landing, the barrels that must have contained alcohol and the stack of tinder-dry crates blazed and crackled. Before Greg could move, Peg disappeared and slammed the door. The lock sliding home had an air of finality that mixed with her echoing laugh of triumph.