Thirty-Four and a Half Predicaments
Page 97

“I take it that you’ve been here before?”
“Yeah, not that it did me any good. I needed the journal.”
“For what?”
“I’ll tell you when we get there.”
This whole situation was beginning to stink worse than a three-day-old dead catfish. “I thought you were gonna tell me about Dora, not lead me on some sort of treasure hunt.”
She stopped and turned to look at me. “This is about your mother. I promise. Trust me.”
I’d learned not to trust people who were this secretive, particularly when I didn’t understand their motives, yet I had no choice but to follow her if I wanted answers. One thing I’d learned as the Lady in Black was not to show your hand. I would still have some leverage as long as Hattie didn’t realize how desperate I was for answers. A small part of me realized the very fact that I was following her through this metal jungle tipped my hand, but I chose to ignore it.
Finally we emerged from the junkyard into an open area with metal beams supporting the ceiling. Several large broken windows lined the western wall, spilling light onto the dirty concrete floor. But dark clouds had blown in, obscuring the sun.
Hattie continued walking, but I stopped, holding my purse close to my side. “I think this is far enough.”
She turned around and studied me. “I know you don’t understand—”
“You’re right,” I said. “I don’t understand any of this. Normal people meet for coffee. Or lunch. They don’t meet in burned-down factories.”
Something in the building creaked and Hattie swung her head around, searching out the source. When she turned back to face me, her eyes were wide with paranoia.
I was having major second thoughts.
“I’m sorry,” she said, taking several steps backward. “But I think she knows. We don’t have time to dilly-dally around.” Then she turned and kept walking.
“Who knows?” I asked, but her answer was silence. It wasn’t a leap to put two and two together. Was “she” Beverly? I decided to not to tip Hattie off that I knew about Beverly’s existence. Shoot. For all I knew, Hattie was the one who had left the notes on my car. She’d already admitted to keeping track of me. She could be planning on killing me in here, figuring it would take ages for anyone to find me.
That was a comforting thought. Now I really wished I knew where Jed was.
But I had to wonder what purpose it would serve for someone to kill me. Was it for the inheritance? Everyone at the plant had already suspected Henry was my birth father. One only had to follow the path of publicly acknowledged men in Dora’s life to figure out who I actually was, even if Momma had passed me off as her own. In fact, why not just announce I was his heir when I was a baby, then arrange for my death and clear the path for probate? Why wait? None of it made any sense.
We reached the end of the building and Hattie finally came to a stop outside a door. Several desks, file cabinets, and chairs were scattered throughout the open space, as though someone had ransacked the offices and pulled everything out. Considering the mass devastation on the opposite end of the building, though, this end—including the furnishings—looked fairly untouched. It was closed off from the open-air area, so it was darker than the rest of the building, but Hattie had come prepared with a flashlight. She pushed the door open and went inside.
I hesitated, glancing around for Jed. There was no sign of him, but I trusted he was out there, which was good since I didn’t trust Hattie. I knew she expected me to follow her, but the only leverage I had at this point was the journal.
I pulled it out and tucked it under my arm as I moved past one of the catawampus desks. Before following her into the room, I stuffed it into a desk drawer, grateful the metal drawer didn’t squeak.
“Give me the journal,” she ordered, rummaging around in a closet, the flashlight beam bouncing around as she juggled it.
“No.”
She came back out and shined the light into my face. “I thought you wanted answers.”
I lifted my arm to block the light from my eyes. “I do. But most of what I want to know I think you can answer easily enough. Then if I think you’ve told me the truth, I’ll help you with whatever it is you’re doing in here.”
I took a step toward her, my eyes adjusting to the light. Jed was probably having a conniption fit about me being in this room with only one door. I didn’t like it much better. “How about we go back out there where I can actually see so you can answer my questions.” I didn’t give her a choice in the matter; I just turned and walked out into the factory. She wanted the journal and she thought I had it. If nothing else, she’d follow me out to tackle me.
I continued past the office furniture and into the empty space. Sure enough, she followed me out and stopped several feet away at the edge of a desk. I took several steps backward, keeping at least ten feet between us in case she decided to pull something, then put my hand on my hip, tired of her nonsense. She studied me for several seconds, then smiled. “You’re a lot like her, you know.”
I lifted my chin. “I wouldn’t know, seein’ as I didn’t even know she existed until a few months ago.” I did a poor job of keeping the hurt out of my voice.
The wind blew and metal creaked all around us, making an eerie sound that only added to my uneasiness. I really wished I knew where Jed was hiding.
“I told you,” her voice softened. “We did it to protect you.”