Moon Dance Read online

  "We'll be back," Georgia assured her mother. "With Laura. If she's there, we'll bring her back."

  The rescue party of four headed out the door.

  "Maybe we should take the rest of Gordon's crew with us," Georgia said to Matt.

  "What rest of the crew?"

  "You know, the big bald guy with the tattoo, and his buddy," Georgia said as she dosed the door behind her.

  "Who is she talking about?" Gordon frowned and turned to Delia. "I don't have any 'big bald guy' on my crew…"

  twenty-five

  The drive to the house on Manor Road was, for the most part, a quiet one, what little conversation there was being restricted to Jeremy's asking directions and Matt giving them. At the top of the road, just off the highway, several houses had been built since Matt had last been there. He cautioned Jeremy to slow down until he got his bearings.

  "What will we do when we get there?" Georgia asked.

  "What do you mean, what will we do?" Matt frowned.

  "How will you know if Laura's there? If she is, she won't be by herself."

  "I think we need to see what the situation is when we arrive." Jeremy pulled slightly to the shoulder of the road to let a car pass. "How much farther?"

  "Just past those trees," Matt leaned forward and pointed, "on the right. It's a two story gray stucco house… right there. Slow down."

  The house was set back slightly from the road, a pleasant-looking house with black shutters and a flagstone path leading from the driveway to the front door. A trellis next to the front door served as support for a climbing rosebush upon which dozens of large red roses bloomed. Flower boxes spilled over with red and white petunias.

  The foursome in the car drove past slowly.

  "This is really strange," Matt said. "That does not look like an abandoned house."

  "Maybe it's been sold." Tucker suggested.

  "I think Laura would have mentioned that. And I'd bet my life that my sister has not set eyes on this place since the day she moved back to the inn."

  "Then who's been taking care of it? The grass has been cut, the flowers in the front there are obviously newly planted." Georgia frowned as they slowly passed the house.

  "Well, maybe Gary has rented it. It would give him a little income while he's in prison," Jeremy said thoughtfully.

  "Someone's in there," Georgia pointed back at the house as they drove on down the road at a snail's pace. "There's a blue light—there, in the back of the house."

  "Looks like someone is watching TV." Tucker turned to look. "Jeremy, find a place to turn around. Take another swing past the house."

  "I have an idea," Georgia announced. "Why not let me drive, and on the way back, I'll come to a real slow stop, just in case someone's looking out the window…"

  "Why?"

  "So that when I walk up to the door and ring the bell and say that my van just died on me and could I please use the phone to call my husband, it will look credible. That way, I'll get to see who or what is in there."

  "Georgia, you're not going near that house." Matt shook his head. "Not under any circumstances."

  "Matt's right. That's out of the question." Tucker turned his head to look back toward the house.

  "Does anyone have a better idea?" Georgia asked.

  "I thought we'd get out here, go through the woods to the house, and see what's going on." Jeremy pulled the van to a stop on the other side of the woods and turned in his seat to face Georgia. "I was figuring on having you drive, though."

  "But supposing someone sees you. What if you startle someone and they get nervous," Georgia protested. "They might hurt Laura."

  "And supposing you startle someone and they get nervous," Matt said. "They might hurt both of you."

  "First things first. We need to establish who is in that house," Tucker told them, "so a little surveillance is the first order of business here. Jeremy, I think you and I will go through the woods to the back of the house and we'll see what we can see from there."

  "What about me?" Matt asked.

  "You'll stay with Georgia," Tucker told them as he removed his miniature field glasses from his jacket pocket. "Jeremy, do you have any equipment in this van?"

  "I have some infrared glasses," Jeremy nodded. "I think that's all we'll need this time around."

  "Tucker, if you think that you're going to leave me in the van while you and Mr. Private Eye launch a big rescue…"

  "Nobody's launching a rescue immediately. We'll be back in less than twenty minutes and hopefully by then we'll have an idea as to whether or not Laura is in that house. If she is, we'll need you to help get her out. Right now…"

  "Right now, you're wasting time, and I'm going with you." Matt said tersely.

  Tucker sighed. The last thing they needed was an inexperienced man crashing through the woods.

  "Matt, it's daylight. It's going to be difficult enough for Jeremy and me to get close enough to that house to see what's going on, and we've both been in situations like this before."

  "I'll just follow your lead," Matt told him, "but I'm going. I won't do anything that would jeopardize my sister."

  Tucker shrugged, then turned to Georgia and said, "I don't want the van sitting here while we're gone, so I'm going to ask you to drive the van down the road for about ten minutes, waste a little time, then turn around and come back slowly. But don't drive past the house. If someone is in there and is watching the road, they might get suspicious if they saw us go by the first time. We'll meet you here in about twenty minutes."

  "Okay," she nodded, and took the driver's seat as Jeremy hopped down. "Be careful, guys."

  "You too." Matt leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Pray that she's in there."

  "I will." She squeezed his arm as he got out of the van. "What do I do if you don't come back?"

  "We'll be back," Tucker told her as he closed the door.

  Georgia watched the three men disappear into the dense woods, then shifted the van into drive and pulled onto the road. It was twenty minutes to four on an overcast afternoon. She drove slowly down the narrow two-lane road, past several farms and a new cul-de-sac where ranch-style homes had recently been built, the development still new enough that several of the front yards were still more mud than lawn. A gas station sat across from a fruit stand where handwritten cardboard signs boasted local strawberries for sale. She pulled in to the fruit stand and bought several quarts of fresh berries, checking her watch as she walked back to the van. Three forty-seven.

  Georgia drove across the road to the gas station and pulled up in front of the full-serve bay. The attendant, who looked to be no more than fifteen, came out of the small office area and shuffled across the parking lot to the van.

  "Hi," she smiled.

  "Whatcha need?" he asked dully, obviously annoyed at having had to get up and walk a whole twenty feet to the pump.

  "Fill it, please."

  Georgia watched the young man through the rearview mirror as he took his time opening the gas tank. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel to keep them moving and give them something to do besides shake. The clock on the dash said three forty-eight. She pulled out her wallet and opened the door, hopping down and heading toward the soda machine near the door to the office. She counted out her coins and slipped them into the slot, then pushed a button to make her selection. Nothing happened. She banged impatiently on the machine.

  "It don't work," the attendant told her, coming up behind her and causing her to jump nearly out of her skin. "That's nine dollars for the gas."

  Georgia fought an urge to smack him. He could have told her before she plunked her last quarters into the machine. Instead, she took a five and four ones from her wallet and handed them to him before getting back into the van. Three fifty-one.

  She headed slowly back down the road, the butterflies in her stomach having turned into something more menacing and the ache in her chest causing her pain. She reached her destination with two minutes to spare. Le
tting the engine idle, she watched the woods with her heart in her mouth. Three minutes later, she was startled by Jeremy's appearance at her window. Followed by Matt and Tucker, Jeremy had come from behind the van, rather than the front where she had been watching.

  "What's going on?" she asked as the three men got back into the van.

  "Well, as closely as we can see, there are four people inside the house. One of them," he said, his dark eyes narrowing, "is Laura. She's in the kitchen, on a chair. There do not appear to be any guards outside the house, though, which will make it a little easier."

  "How will we get her out?" Georgia asked. "Shouldn't we call the police and have them take it from here?"

  "This is a rural area where it's unlikely the police have had experience in situations like this." Tucker shook his head. "I think our best bet is for us to get her out fast and dirty before anyone knows what happened. Jeremy, what do you think?"

  "I have to agree with you. My instincts tell me that we are Laura's best bet."

  "Matt?"

  "Have either of you been in a situation like this before?" Matt asked warily.

  "Actually, I have," Tucker told him coolly.

  "Well, that probably puts you one up on the local guys—all four of them. It could take us all day to convince them that Laura's in there against her will, and another day while they figure out what to do about it. I'm with you. The sooner she's out of there, the better."

  "I think we need to distract them for a few minutes while we go in through the back door." Tucker said to Jeremy.

  "How are we going to do that?" Matt frowned.

  "How 'bout if Georgia just drives toward the house, pretends to have car trouble, and pulls the van over to the side of the road in the vicinity of the house. Then she gets out, raises the hood, pretends to be looking at something. Maybe one of them will watch from the window, maybe even come out to offer a hand…"

  Matt frowned. "Why aren't I driving the van and getting out?"

  "Because she's prettier than you are." Jeremy said. "At the very least, I think they'll be watching her, and with any luck, it will draw their attention from the back of the house long enough for me to pick the lock on that side door."

  "What happens once you get inside there?" Georgia asked. "They might have guns."

  "I'm sure they do," Tucker said.

  "Well, what will you do if they start to shoot at you?" She grimaced.

  "Shoot back," Tucker told her calmly. "Ready, Jeremy?"

  "Yes. Georgia, give us five minutes, then drive. Go really slow, start and stop a few times in case someone is looking out the window."

  "Don't worry. I can do this," she said confidently.

  "Great. Tucker?" Jeremy asked.

  "Let's do it," Tucker slid from the side door of the van and walked toward the woods, then turned back and called softly back to the van, "If all goes well, this will be over within ten, fifteen minutes."

  "And if it doesn't go well?" Georgia turned to face Matt.

  "I think we're going to have to trust them," he told her.

  "Jeremy has never let my mother down before. And I think that Tucker would walk through fire for Laura."

  She had no way of knowing that before the day would end, Tucker would do exactly that.

  Georgia drove the van slowly, stopping and starting fitfully, as Tucker had suggested. As she neared the house, she began to let it roll to a stop on the side of the road.

  "Here goes," she whispered to Matt, who was in the rear, windowless section of the panel van.

  "Georgia…"

  "I'll be fine." She hopped out and slammed the door.

  Lifting the hood of the van, she peered this way and that, pretending to know what she was looking at. Leaving the hood up, she stood, hands on her hips, looking up and down the road.

  "How long have we been here?" she hissed through her teeth in the direction of the open door.

  "About three minutes," Matt told her.

  "Guess I'd better go look at the engine again."

  Returning to the front of the van, she peered once again into the engine, reaching a hand in and pretending to touch or turn the various hoses and gizmos.

  "I guess it would help if I knew a little something about car engines," she muttered, wiping her greasy fingers onto her jeans, and pacing back the length of the van. "Matt, this is stupid. It doesn't make any sense at all that a woman would just pace back and forth."

  "Get in and make like you're starting the engine again," he suggested.

  "That oughta kill a few seconds," she told him as she swung herself back through the open door and turned the key.

  "Does it look as if anyone is watching from the house?" Matt asked.

  "I can't really tell. There are curtains on the windows, but without staring at the house, there's no way to know." She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel for a long moment. "If they are watching, they must think I'm a moron."

  She jumped back down from the van and peeked back under the hood. She paced along the side, kicking a stone with the toe of her right foot.

  A woman would not just pace back and forth. She would ask for help. If anyone is watching, they have to be wondering why I'm not asking for help.

  Georgia glanced up the drive at the tidy house, trying to picture herself walking across the grass and up to the front door, ringing the doorbell…

  She really didn't want to do that.

  "I should have driven more erratically. I should have plowed over the mailbox so someone would have come out…" She blew an exasperated breath from her lungs.

  "I think it's a little late," Matt told her.

  "Matt, is Jeremy's cell phone still on the seat?" she asked.

  "Yes."

  "What's the number?"

  "Why do you want to know?"

  "Just tell me…"

  She could hear him shuffling, moving on the floor to grab the phone without being seen from outside the van.

  "555-8720."

  Her hands on her hips, she paced a few more times. "555-8720. 555-8720. 555-8720…"

  "Matt, is the phone turned on?" She bent down next to the van, as if to tie her sneaker.

  "No."

  "Turn it on."

  "Why?"

  "So that you can answer it when it rings."

  "Who do you think will be calling?"

  "Someone from in there. In the house…"

  "Georgia…" He sprang forward in alarm.

  "Keep down!" she told him. "Listen, Matt, we have to create a distraction…"

  "Let me do it."

  "Right. And where have you been while I've been fiddling around with the cockamamie engine for the past ten minutes?" Her heart was pounding and her stomach began to knot even as she spoke. "This isn't working. Nothing is happening, and the longer I pace back and forth with nothing happening, the more suspicious someone in that house is going to get. We need to distract them for real."

  "Georgia, you heard Tucker… you can't go in the house," he hissed at her, frustrated because what he wanted to do was jump out of the van and shake her.

  "I'm not going in, Matt. I'm going to knock on the door and say that I'm having engine trouble. I won't ask to use the phone, I'm going to ask whoever answers the door to call my husband for me and give him directions to come and get me." Saying it aloud had made it sound so reasonable. "See? What could be easier? And when the phone rings, you answer it and keep them on the line as long as you can."

  "It's a stupid idea."

  "Stupid is me pacing endlessly. This is a great idea. And do you have a better way of bringing at least one of them to the front of the house? Speak now, Matt. Nobody needs this much time to tie a shoe."

  When he didn't respond, she said, "That's what I thought."

  "Georgia, it doesn't feel right."

  "Just sound concerned when the call comes," she ignored him. "Ask for directions…"

  "Georgia…"

  "Five minutes, Matt. That's all this should take."r />
  Her heart pounding like wild jungle drums in her ears, she willed her legs to carry her to the front steps of the house and up to the landing, rehearsing what she'd say. Hi, I'm sorry to bother you. My van broke down…

  "555-8720, 555-8720," she whispered to herself as she rang the doorbell, then jammed her hands into her jeans pockets to hide the fact that they were shaking so badly.

  There was movement at one of the front windows, a curtain moved imperceptibly. Hushed voices from behind the door. Footsteps on hardwood. The unlatching of the inside door.

  A tall, thin, intense looking man dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt stared at her from the other side of the screen door.

  "I'm sorry to disturb you," she forced her most engaging smile, "but it seems my engine just cut out on me. Just stopped dead. I can't imagine what's wrong with it… I just stopped down the road there not a mile or so and filled it with gas, so I know it has fuel. I was wondering, if perhaps I could impose on you to call my husband for me and ask him to come get me?"

  "Call him yourself." The man stepped back and opened the screen door, inviting her in.

  "Oh, well, I really don't want to impose on you or your family…" She started to back up slightly. She hadn't anticipated this. "I'll just give you the number. It's 555-…"

  A long, strong arm reached through the open door to grab onto her own and pull her through the front door into the foyer.

  On the bottom step of the stairwell leading to the second floor sat a man similarly dressed in black. He had a rifle resting across his knees, a tattoo of a sword running up his arm, and a bald head.

  "Well, well, now, isn't this a coincidence?" he chuckled without humor, his voice a fathomless baritone. "Fancy meeting you here. Step back, there, Ronnie, and let the young lady in…"

  Speechless, Georgia stared at the man she had seen on the front porch of the inn.

  "I guess you've come to visit with Mrs. Harmon," he said as he stood up. "I'm sure she'll love to have your company. Take her on back and give her a seat, Ronnie. I think I'll just stay here for a time and keep an eye on that van. I have the feeling that sooner or later, someone's going to get curious about the little lady who just popped in."