Victoria Barkley was by my side at once. “I need to talk to you, Lucie,” she said.
“I’m meeting my family to watch the review,” I told her as I got up. “We can talk some other time.”
“I don’t think so,” she said and jammed something hard into the small of my back. The barrel of a gun. “Walk with me, keep your mouth shut, and nothing will happen. If you do or say anything, I’ll make sure your adorable niece has an unfortunate accident and doesn’t make it home from the parade today.”
“You’re bluffing.” My voice shook. Was she working with a partner? Clay? Would he harm an innocent child?
“You don’t want to find out,” she said. “Now move.”
“Where?”
As we walked down Madison Street away from the crowds and the parade, there was no one around where a few minutes ago hundreds of people had gathered. Even the police officers and sheriff’s deputies who had been here had moved to where the action would be happening when the Hunt and Hounds Review paraded down Washington Street.
“We’re going to the horse trailers,” Victoria said. “We can talk there.”
“What do you want?” I said.
“What’s legitimately mine.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t play dumb.” Her voice was harsh. “You were in Williamsburg and Jamestown the other day. And you went to the Folger.”
How did she know that? How long had she been stalking me? “Who told you? Were you following me?”
“I didn’t need to follow you. In my business you make plenty of contacts, especially people who work at museums, libraries, and historic sites. And some of those people owe me favors.”
“You killed Prescott,” I said.
“Prescott.” She practically spat his name. “He wasn’t going to give me any credit for the work I did for him. Finding him that copy of the Declaration of Independence. And, as a bonus, the correspondence that came with it. I helped him figure it out. Instead, it seems he confided in you.”
“So you killed him.”
“It was an accident. But he was being obstinate and greedy. Now get going.”
“You went through my father’s papers,” I said. “You broke into my house.”
“Your front door was unlocked. I walked in.”
“How did you know about the papers?”
I wasn’t sure she would answer, but she seemed only too pleased with herself, how clever she’d been.
“I was at the bank. You were so absorbed in that envelope you were holding—like it was the crown jewels—you never even noticed me. Seth’s secretary accidentally spilled the beans about why you were there. Of course, she didn’t realize I knew it was you she was talking about.”
We had reached a meadow across from the field where Quinn and I had parked the Jeep; this place was filled with horse trailers and cars. A copse of trees near the street blocked the view so no one would see us—and even if they did, probably wouldn’t take much notice. Still I was surprised that no one else had hung around, stable lads, maybe, waiting for their horses to return.
Victoria pulled a key fob out of her jacket pocket and hit a button. I heard the sound of the trunk of a car popping open.
“Come on,” she said. “We’re going to Hawthorne.”
Clay’s car was an old Ford Taurus and it was hitched to a horse trailer. Victoria marched me over to the car and indicated the trunk. “Get in.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. No. Besides, Clay will wonder where the trailer is. You can’t leave.”
“Of course I can,” she said in a nasty voice. “He’s going hunting after the review. I’m meeting him with the trailer at the polo grounds in a couple of hours. Now don’t make me tell you again to get in.”
“No.” I raised my cane to swing it at her but she was faster, raising the butt end of her gun.
Then everything went black.
I DIDN’T WAKE UP until she opened the trunk. She’d put the kind of adhesive wrapping tape vets and stables used for the horses over my mouth, and my hands and feet were trussed like a Thanksgiving turkey. Hot pink. Thoughtful choice of color.
My head hurt like hell and I blinked in the sudden brightness. If we were at Hawthorne, I’d been out for a good ten minutes. By now Quinn and Eli would be looking for me. Quinn would alert Bobby or else he’d find the Middleburg police chief, whose car always rode first in the 2 P.M. parade. The Loudoun County sheriff was second.
They were going to find me. Hopefully in time.
But first, I had to deal with Victoria, who was standing over the trunk looking down at me. If I could have spat on her I would have.
“I’m going to cut the tape binding your feet,” she said. “Try anything and I’ll shoot you. I can bury your body in the woods where no one will find you.”
She cut the tape with a pocketknife and maneuvered me so I could get out of the trunk. I held out my hands and jerked my head in the direction of my cane, which she’d thrown into the trunk, thank God.
“Mpf, mpf, mpf.”
“What?” She looked exasperated. I repeated myself. “Oh, what the hell.” She ripped the tape off my mouth. It felt as if skin had come off with it.
My face stung and my head throbbed. “I can’t walk without my cane. So you’d better free my hands or you can carry me.”
I sounded half-drunk. She must have figured I wasn’t much of a threat in my condition because she leaned forward and slashed the tape binding my hands. Her gun, a little nine- millimeter Glock, made a return appearance.
“Now get out.”
She had parked near the orangerie and the back entrance to the Castle that was near Prescott’s wine cellar. At least I knew where I was.
I obeyed her with difficulty, climbing out of the trunk and managing not to fall flat on my face. Except for the sound of the whistling wind, the place was as silent as a graveyard. I looked up, hoping to see a face in the window above us.
“Don’t bother,” Victoria said. “Everyone’s gone. Open the door. It’s unlocked.”
It hadn’t worked last time, but I tried again, jamming the end of my cane into her ribs before she realized I’d done it. I heard the clunk of the gun as it hit the ground and stepped inside, shutting the door. She managed to pull it open, but as she entered I clubbed her again with my cane handle.
She went down hard, but this time she didn’t loosen her grip on the Glock. I took off as fast as I could. Two shots whizzed past me. At least she was a lousy shot. She had three, maybe four more bullets in the clip until it was empty. I turned a corner. I could continue straight, which was the way back to the elevator, but I probably didn’t have enough time. Turning left would take me to Prescott’s wine cellar. I wouldn’t make it there, either.
A few feet ahead of me I spotted a recessed alcove. Probably—knowing the Averys—displaying a piece of sculpture. Instead it contained a beautifully decorated Christmas tree. A string of white lights lay coiled on the ground. Someone hadn’t finished the decorations. I slipped between the tree and the wall as Victoria’s footsteps grew closer.
My timing was going to have to be perfect. I held my breath and shoved the tree. It fell onto her and she yelped with surprise as she went down among the branches and ornaments.
She was still clinging to the Glock, fighting to regain her balance. I grabbed her wrist, snapped it, and the gun clattered to the floor lying between the two of us.
“Hold it right there.”
I spun around. Kellie Avery, in a shooter’s stance, held a rifle pointed at Victoria and me.
“Kellie,” I said, “listen to me. Victoria killed your great-grandfather.”
It was a mistake to have turned my back on Victoria. Before Kellie could warn me, Victoria reached over and grabbed the Glock, aiming it at me.
“Put down your gun, Kellie, or I’ll shoot her. Lucie’s the one who killed Prescott.”
“No,” I said. “She’s lying.”
It happened fast. Kellie aimed at Victoria as I dove behind the tree. Kellie’s shot hit Victoria, who screamed and grabbed her shoulder. By the time Kellie reached the two of us, I had gotten the gun away from Victoria once again and put on the safety.
“Where were you?” I asked her.
“Pop-pop’s wine cellar,” she said. “I’ve been going there to get away since he died. I came out when I heard the shots. Thank God he kept a loaded gun in that Masonic room of his.”
“I need medical help.” Victoria spoke through clenched teeth. “I’ll bleed to death.”
“Do you want to go outside to call 911?” I asked Kellie. “I can handle her.”
“No, you do it. I can manage just fine.” She looked down at Victoria. “Move and I’ll shoot you in your other shoulder. Understand?”
Quinn was my next call after 911. He and Bobby arrived in Bobby’s unmarked car just as Victoria was being lifted into an ambulance on a stretcher.
“Clay’s expecting Victoria to pick him up after he finishes hunting,” I told Bobby as the ambulance pulled away.
“I’ll tell him,” Kellie said.
“I need to handle that,” Bobby told her. “I need to find out how much Clay knew about what Victoria was up to. Whether he was involved or not.”
Kellie turned pale, but she nodded as another car pulled up and Scotty and Bianca got out. Kellie ran into her mother’s arms and Scotty embraced them both.
“Let’s get you home,” Quinn said. “I want Doc Turnbull to look at that bruise.”
“I’ll be all right. It’s over, Quinn. Victoria was the one who helped Clay purchase the Declaration of Independence. She knew everything, including what he was looking for,” I said. “And there’s something else.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“I know where the Bruton Vault documents are.”