If I Should Die_ A Novel of Suspense - Allison Brennan [157]
Thinking about Grace drugging her brother pushed Lucy through the pain. She was sore everywhere, but nothing was broken. The padding of her winter clothes had protected her from the fall. She reached to her lower back and found Patrick’s .45 still there.
There should be a light switch somewhere. She felt around the hard-packed dirt floor to make her way to the wall. Her finger touched plastic, and her stomach rolled as she realized she’d been sitting right next to Vanessa’s body. She crawled away until she reached a metal shelving unit. She stood up, knees cracking and muscles still weak. She held the shelf as she shuffled along the edge until she found the wall. It, too, was hard dirt, and she felt for a switch. There was none.
“Of course not,” she said out loud, her voice startling her in the dark silence. It would most likely be suspended from the ceiling; the root cellar was cut out of the earth to preserve food without refrigeration. The light would probably be tapped into the housing electricity.
She considered the layout of the house. What room was directly above the root cellar? She could find something to bang on the ceiling and maybe someone would hear her.
She realized she was directly beneath Beth’s room.
Lucy hesitated. Beth could be part of the scam to steal money from the Delarosa estate. She had no way of knowing whether or not the sisters were in this together.
She’d heard Grace lock the root cellar, but Lucy had to try to escape. She found the stairs and crept up, crawling at the end as the ceiling got lower. She pushed the thick wood doors. They didn’t budge.
But she heard something. Two men’s voices. They were getting closer. Steve and Kyle?
“Steve!” she cried out. She banged on the door. “Help! Steve! Kyle! I’m trapped!”
Silence, then Steve called through the doors, “Lucy?”
“Yes!” She relaxed with relief. “Thank God. Get me out. And don’t talk to Grace!”
“What did you say about Grace?”
“Get me out and I’ll explain everything.”
“Hold on, I know where the spare key is.”
Spare key? That was what Grace must have used.
“Get the key from Patrick!” Lucy called.
Kyle said, “Steve went inside. What happened?”
“Grace locked me in here. She tried to drug me, too, but I didn’t get the full dose. It’s a muscle relaxant, and I think that’s what she used on Vanessa before she killed her.” If Vanessa had been incapacitated with a muscle relaxant, Grace could easily have suffocated her. Lucy hadn’t thought to look in Vanessa’s nose and throat for cotton fibers from a blanket or pillow—but often those fibers were visible only under a microscope. An autopsy would provide a definitive answer.
“Grace killed Vanessa?” Kyle asked. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” Lucy admitted, “but Grace has at least five identities, including one in Phoenix where Vanessa is from. She took Patrick’s keys. Did you see or hear his truck leave?”
“No,” Kyle said. “Steve and I just came from the garage—no one was there. Patrick’s truck was still there.”
What was Grace up to?
“Kyle, how long has it been since you and Steve went to his house?”
“Fifteen minutes? Twenty at the most.”
That meant Lucy had been knocked unconscious for only a few minutes. And since Patrick’s truck was still here, Grace was still here and was probably planning something. What? Was she in her cottage packing, thinking she had more time?
“Lucy? Are you down there?”
It was Patrick. “What are you doing out of bed?”
“I’m fine.” He unlocked the padlock and opened the doors. The light from outside poured into the cellar and Lucy instinctively shut her eyes. She crawled out and Patrick stood her up. “What happened?”
“Grace ambushed me and locked me in the root cellar. She took your keys.”
“Why would she take my keys and not use the lodge truck?”
“You have a better truck,” Lucy said. “Or maybe so we don’t follow too quickly. I don’t know.” She looked around. “Where’s Steve?”
“He went to find Grace,” Patrick said.
“No! She’s been