“Normally, I don’t take jobs this far out of town,” Olga said. “But Joanne was desperate and offered to pay me a little extra to come out. Her son really wanted clowns and she couldn’t find anyone in the area willing to come out this far.”
I pulled my phone out of my purse, thinking I might need it soon.
And there was no service. We were too far removed from civilization.
I stuffed it back in my purse. “That was nice of you. Okay, so when you went out to the barn...did you go back and tell anyone you were leaving? Before you drove to the theater?”
She shook her head, her rainbow wig bobbing in several different directions. “No. I just told Arnold I was going to run and get some candles. I was too flustered and I didn’t think he’d understand.” She snapped her gloved fingers. “And I still don’t have candles. Or a blowtorch.”
“That may end up being the least of our worries,” I said.
We passed by a barren field of what I guessed was corn in the summer months, and she turned the hearse left onto a narrow dirt road. The road was dotted with potholes and ruts and she slowed down. It snaked its way around the edge of the field and then cut through a thick grove of bare-branched trees. We crested a small hill and as we descended the other side, I could see an old, two-story country farm house about two hundred yards in front of us, with a massive barn off in the distance, another fifty yards to the right of it.
She pointed at the barn. “There. That’s where I went looking for the blowtorch.”
It was straight out of a painting. Red with white trim, big doors in the front, windows on the top floor, just beneath the pitch of the roof. The path from the house to the barn was littered with leaves.
She pulled the hearse to a stop right in front of the house. “I need to get inside and check on Arnold and the kids. He’s never worked with kids before.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’m going to the barn.”
“I saw a shovel just inside the door,” she said. “You know, just in case you need a weapon or something.”
“Why would I need a weapon?”
She shrugged and adjusted her big red nose. “I don’t know. I don’t know what else is out there.”
“Good to know,” I said, pushing the car door open.
I watched Olga scurry into the house, her big red shoes flapping on the steps as she hopped up the porch and disappeared into the house that was apparently full of kids.
I turned to the barn and starting walking that way. The cold wind bit at my cheeks and I pulled my hat down again as low as I could, this time for protection rather than going incognito. My boots crunched against the leaves on the path. I pulled out my phone again.
Still no service.
I dropped it back in my bag and eyed the front of the barn. I could see the main door slightly ajar, but couldn’t see anything inside. I hesitated for a moment, then headed for the entrance.
I stood outside and listened.
Nothing.
I waited for a moment, but didn’t hear anything.
I pulled the door open and stepped inside.
It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. The walls were lined with bales of hay and the floor was covered with loose straw and sawdust. The faint odor of cow manure mingled with the sweet smell of hay. I could make out a few random tools near the hay bales - a pitchfork, some shovels, one of those hook thingies used to hook the bales. There was an old ride-on mower tucked in once corner, a blue drop cloth half-covering it. The hay looked fresh, but everything else seemed as if it hadn’t been touched in awhile.
I could see the back wall of the barn and it looked the same as the sidewalls. A few random tools, a few more bales of hay. I moved my gaze upward to the high-pitched roof. There was an overhanging loft three quarters of the way up and I could make out a flight of wooden stairs that led up to it. I squinted. There was something else. A door in the loft that looked as if it was on the back wall. I took a step back to get a better angle.
It was definitely a door.
With a light on behind it.
My heart thumped in my chest.
I walked over to the stairs and walked slowly up them, waiting for them to creak or crack. But they held firm and I made my way up them silently.
I stood on the edge of the loft, maybe twenty-five feet above the barn floor. The door wasn’t on the back wall of the barn. It was actually attached to what looked a room, a room that had been built out. The walls looked about fifteen feet by fifteen feet: a decent sized room.
I stood still and listened.
I heard a faint voice.
Yellow light glowed in the doorframe.
I swallowed a couple of times, then crept over to the door.
Then I grasped the knob and opened it.
Amanda Pendleton was stretched out on a bed, watching a flat screen TV attached to a wall, when she craned her neck toward me and said, “Hey.”
FORTY ONE
“I’m starving,” she said, sitting up on the bed. “Did you bring dinner, by any chance?”
She was in a pair of yoga pants and over-sized hooded sweatshirt. Her long black, Snow White-like hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail and she had thick, pink wool socks on her feet. She didn’t appear to be in any distress.
Other than her hunger.
“Uh, no,” I said, staring at her.
“Is anyone bringing me dinner?” She picked up a phone from the bed. “It’s way late.”
“Uh, I have no idea,” I said. I took a small step toward her. “Can I ask why you’re here?”
She stared at me for a long moment. “I’m not supposed to answer that.”
A faint humming buzzed in the room, courtesy of a small space heater in the corner. There were several piles of clothes stacked neatly beneath the TV. If we hadn’t been in a barn, it wouldn’t have been a reach to assume we were in Amanda’s bedroom.
“Do you know there are a lot of people looking for you?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I sorta figured.”
“Were you kidnapped? Or what?” I shook my head. “I’m totally confused here.”
“Who are you anyway?”
“I’m Daisy Savage,” I said. “My daughters are in the play with you. Were.”
“Oh,” she said. “Why are you here?”
“Because...wait. Answer my question first. Were you kidnapped?”
She thought hard for a moment. “Technically, yes. It was the flowers.”
“The flowers?”
She sighed, like she’d told the story a million times already. “I answered the door at my house. It was a flower delivery lady. She had flowers for me. She told me to smell them. I did and totally passed out.” She frowned. “I think it was chloroform.”
“Flowers knocked you out?”
“They were covered in the chloroform. I took a deep breath.”
“And you ended up here?”
She looked around. “Yeah. But I’m only here for like two more days.”
“So you aren’t being held against your will?”
She messed with her ponytail. “I guess that’s what you’d call a gray area.”
“I don’t think there are gray areas when it comes to kidnapping.”
“Well, this is just...different.”
I took a deep breath, then exhaled. I was utterly confused. This hadn’t been at all what I’d expected to find.
“Okay,” I said. “How about if you start from the beginning?”
She sighed again, like starting from the beginning was a huge effort. “I told you. I smelled the flowers.”
“Who brought you the flowers?”
She sighed again. “Mrs. Claussen.”
“Joanne?”
“If she’s the one who owns the farm then, yeah, I guess.”
“Okay. Then what happened?”
“Well, I guess I fainted,” she explained, sitting cross-legged on the bed. “Because I totally don’t remember the drive out here. Next thing I knew, I was waking up on this bed.”