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  “You two and Detective Vargas.” Tamara stared at them now, her eyes unblinking, and her lips forming a cold calculating sneer. “An Amish woman, a housekeeper, and a washed-up detective. You’re all pitiful.”

  “You’re the one who’s pitiful, so why don’t you stop jawing and do whatever it is you brought us here to do.”

  Eek. Agatha wasn’t sure that was the direction they wanted to push this woman. She looked...unstable. She looked capable of just about anything.

  “I’m not going to shoot you. Even with that terrible music playing someone might hear. You might actually prefer a bullet. I heard it gets up to 130 degrees in one of these on a hot August afternoon. By this time tomorrow, you’ll have succumbed to either the heat or the snakes.”

  Why did she have to mention snakes? Agatha resisted the urge to look around. The only light was the beam from the single flashlight. She couldn’t see much of anything, really. Shadows and more darkness.

  “You don’t have to kill us,” Agatha reasoned. “You’ve found the treasure, right?”

  When Tamara only glared at her, she tried again. “You at least know where it is?”

  “We do, and as soon as the wedding gets underway tomorrow, we’ll have it. We’ll have the treasure, and we’ll be gone. But I’m curious, Agatha. How did you know the buckle was in that exact spot in your wall? It couldn’t have been coincidence.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  Gina put both hands on her hips. “She didn’t know. Do you really think she’d have waited until a news crew was standing there recording her every move to unearth a lost treasure?”

  “Perfect crime, if you ask me. You looked innocent enough, and rumor has it that you’ll receive a nice reward now.”

  “But the buckle was worth twenty times that, fifty times that. If she had known it was hidden in her house, she would have unearthed it long ago. She could have sold it herself and made a lot more money.”

  That wasn’t true. Agatha would never do that. She also knew that Gina knew she’d never take something that wasn’t hers. So what was she doing? Why was she provoking Tamara?

  “She’s not like you,” Gina continued. “She cares about more than—”

  At that moment, Gina leapt toward the news reporter, who deftly stepped out of the way as goon number two clubbed Gina on the back of the head. She went down like an empty flour sack.

  Agatha moved toward her, but Tamara raised the gun and said, “Don’t.”

  “Gina was right. I didn’t know, and I don’t care about the reward. I plan to donate that when I receive it.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Tell it to someone who will believe you because I don’t. No one is that selfless.”

  “I don’t claim to be.” Agatha’s temper was rising, and she was worried about Gina, who still hadn’t moved. But something told her that this was her last chance to talk some sense into Tamara Bishop. She prayed for the right words, for wisdom.

  Tamara moved toward the door of the silo, her goons close at her side.

  “I don’t know who hurt you so badly, Tamara, but it doesn’t have to be like this. Life doesn’t have to be like this. It can be so much more than chasing after all that shines.”

  “For you, maybe. Not for me. Those shiny things are my ticket to a new life.” The three gangsters slipped out of the silo, and Agatha heard them drop the metal bar into place that held the door shut.

  She knew the bar would be high and that it would be durable. The old folks told stories of children stumbling into old silos and perishing there. Whether those stories were true or simply a cautionary fable, they worked. Nearly every silo now had some sort of locking mechanism on the outside to keep children out—to keep them safe.

  Unfortunately, as she knelt beside her friend in the dark, Agatha knew that for them, that safety mechanism could spell their death.

  TONY HURRIED BACK TO their room. Empty.

  Then he checked the wedding party, the overlook, even the stables. He couldn’t find Agatha or Gina anywhere. It was like they had disappeared into the Texas night.

  He again went back to their room to leave Agatha and Gina a note. He’d make one more circuit of the guest areas. If he didn’t find them, he’d put through the call to Bannister. Agatha and Gina were more important than finding Kolbe’s killer. He’d leave that to active officers.

  As he walked toward their room, the wedding music faded into the background and his senses became hyper alert. The area around the sleeping quarters seemed to be deserted, but he knew to trust his instincts. Instead of taking the concrete walk to their cabin, he circled around the back, noticed that the curtains to the cabin’s window had been parted slightly—enough to allow someone a little bit of light.

  He pulled his weapon, put his back to the wall, then crept around to the cabin’s door. It was unlocked. Turning the handle gently, slowly, he moved inside as silently as a black cat slips through a moonless night.

  And came face to face with a Sig Sauer P320.

  “Drop it.” The voice was deep, unwavering.

  “You drop it.”

  They were standing less than three feet apart. Tony couldn’t make out the man’s face, but he thought he might have seen him before. There was something familiar about his profile. Then it came to him. He’d seen the same profile in Gina’s photos from earlier that day.

  “I’m with Huntsville PD, Detective Vargas, and I need you to lower your weapon.”

  “And I’m going to need to see your ID to prove that.”

  He didn’t actually need to see it. As the man reached for his ID with his left hand, his right hand kept the Sig perfectly trained on Tony. Only someone in law enforcement could maneuver that deftly.

  Tony holstered his pistol. “Tell me what you’re doing here.”

  “Probably the same as you.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “I’m in the Cold Case Division. We were revisiting the murder of Sean Neal while he was in the Huntsville penitentiary. Someone had dropped a tip that a person of interest might be in your area...”

  “At Agatha’s B&B.”

  “We figured that out later, but yes.”

  “She’s missing. Agatha and Gina are missing.” Tony pulled out his phone and brought up the Find My Phone app. His phone could track Gina’s, and her phone could track his. But at the moment, Gina’s phone remained off. “I’m calling Bannister.”

  “Hang on a minute. If you call Bannister, he’ll bring in the Texas Rangers. He’ll have to. There’s no way a department the size of his can cover a place this vast.”

  “And...”

  “And you’ll scare them off. You don’t want to do that, Vargas. There’s a chance they haven’t hurt your friends. If we box them into a corner, that might change.”

  “There’s also a chance they’ve already hurt Agatha and Gina.”

  “Your call.”

  How worried should he be? How desperate was he? His feelings for Agatha and Gina nearly overpowered his instinct born of thirty years on the job. Nearly.

  Then a dot on his phone’s screen appeared.

  “This can’t be right.” The dot indicating their location blinked for ten seconds, then disappeared. “Why would she turn it on and back off?”

  “Conserve the battery?”

  They both stared down at the screen. Tony touched the phone where the dot had appeared and the point on the map enlarged. “Why out there...away from anyone or anything?”

  “We don’t know what’s out there. Maybe our perp does, assuming our perp has them.”

  “It’s the only reason they’d have left.” Tony ran a hand over the back of his neck. If they had captured Gina and Agatha, he knew the two women would keep their wits about them. It would make sense for Gina to turn her phone on, then back off. She’d effectively be sending him a message indicating their location. Which meant that, for now, they were all right. “OK. Let’s go get them.”

  “Four-wheelers are in the stable.”

  �
��We’ll use the horses. A four-wheeler will alert the perps we’re coming from a mile away. We’ll have to go in dark. Not to mention that crossing that...” He waved toward the window. “...in the dark on a four-wheeler would be foolish. We’d be just as likely to flip it and end up in a ravine. The horses will be able to pick their way.”

  “All right. Horses, then. Let’s do this.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Agatha didn’t know what else to do, so she prayed.

  She prayed that the blue bandanna she was pressing to Gina’s head wound would stop the bleeding.

  She prayed her friend would wake up.

  She petitioned God to keep any snakes at bay, to protect them until they were found, to send Tony.

  And somehow, she slept, her back against the wall of the silo, her hand on Gina, her heart aching. It could have been ten minutes or an hour later that Gina stirred.

  “Where are we?” Gina struggled to a sitting position. “Wait...we’re in a silo. Where did Tamara go? Have you tried getting out? What are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know. Yes, of course, and again—I don’t know. I was praying, and then I fell asleep.” Now she had a bit of a crick in her neck. She stretched her neck on the left side, then the right. She wished for water, then told her mind not to think about it.

  “I’m thirsty.”

  Stink. There it was again. Best to distract Gina with questions.

  “How’s your head?”

  “Feels like someone whacked my skull.”

  “That’s because someone did—one of Tamara’s goons.” There was a tiny bit of moonlight coming through the cracks in the top of the silo. She could just make out Gina’s outline, saw her reach up and touch the bandanna.

  “Is this...”

  “Your bandanna? Ya. I was trying to stop the bleeding.”

  “Huh. Seems to have worked, but now it seems to be plastered to my skin.”

  “I suggest you leave it. Pulling it off might cause the bleeding to start again.”

  Gina sighed. “Brand new bandanna. Guess it’s ruined now.”

  “The least of our troubles.”

  “Speaking of...have you seen any snakes?”

  “I have not. You would have heard me scream if I had.”

  “Did you try screaming?”

  “Do you remember how far we walked to get here?”

  “Yes, I do. And with Tamara’s pistol pointed at your head.”

  “Thanks for not drawing on her.” Agatha almost broke into hysterical laughter then. Drawing on her? She’d fallen into a western when she’d moved to Hunt, Texas...a western and a murder mystery all rolled into one life. She was tired of being a sleuth. Perhaps she should have her name changed. The name Agatha seemed to draw trouble towards her. She could be a Deborah or Esther. Those would work—gut strong names from the Bible.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “Silly thoughts. Probably hysterical ones. Maybe you should talk me down.”

  “Okay. You said you tried the door?”

  “I did. It’s braced from the outside.”

  “Any chance we both could—”

  “Nope.”

  “All right. And you don’t reckon screaming would work.”

  “I tried it, for a few minutes—seemed rather futile and it made my throat sore.” She did not explain her fear of breathing in more of the silo’s air than she had to. Did a person breathe more if they were hollering? She didn’t want to tell Gina about farmer’s lung. They’d worry about that after they’d found a way out. And they would find a way out. “Tony’s looking for us. I’m sure of that.”

  “Probably called in the Texas Rangers.”

  “This is a big place, though. More than eleven thousand acres.” Agatha couldn’t really fathom how big eleven thousand acres were. Most Amish farms back home were eighty to one hundred acres. So was that one hundred Amish farms? One hundred and ten? Something like that. A lot. “Tamara took your phone, so Tony won’t be able to track us via that app you both installed.”

  “I can’t think. My head is pounding.”

  “We can pray.”

  “I’m all for that.”

  So they did. Agatha reached for Gina’s hand and they prayed for safety and provision and escape. They prayed God’s protection over Tony and that he would find their silo. That Tamara and her cohorts would be stopped. That all would find the grace of God.

  “I need to lie down, Agatha. Just for a minute.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry that goon hit you instead of me.”

  “My head’s harder. You’re nicer. Your head might have cracked open like a boiled egg. I’ll be fine as soon as this headache eases.”

  Unless it was a concussion, in which case she probably shouldn’t sleep. Agatha didn’t have the heart to tell her to stay awake. Maybe Gina was merely exhausted, in which case a short nap might help.

  Her friend’s breathing evened out, and Agatha allowed herself to relax against the wall of the silo. Her gaze travelled up, and she again saw the stars between the cracks.

  Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation?

  The book of Job in the Old Testament had always been a favorite of hers. She could relate to Job. He was hurt and confused and lonely. He felt abandoned. And so he dared to question God.

  On what were its footings set...

  Agatha supposed that was a human thing to do. Didn’t they all question at one time or another? She certainly had. She was no saint. She’d questioned God’s plan for her life when her husband died. She’d been a young woman then, only forty-two, but she’d felt old.

  Who laid its cornerstone...

  She had certainly questioned God when her bruder and his wife died. She’d been unsure if Texas was the place she was supposed to be. She’d questioned plenty, although she might not have been so bold as to shout at God as Job had.

  While the morning stars sang together and all the angels shouted for joy...

  God had answered her cries. He’d answered with new friends like Tony and Gina, with a B&B that gave her purpose each day, with a fine church community.

  And all the angels shouted for joy.

  She thought that was one of the prettiest verses in all of the Bible. Was that the answer? But she’d tried shouting. It hadn’t worked. They were too far away for anyone to hear them. And Tony couldn’t find them—not on a place this vast.

  The morning stars...

  She looked up again. There were cracks in the silo. This silo was old. She hadn’t noticed any buildings around it, but there must have been at one time. There had to have been. The purpose of a silo was to store grain, then after a time that grain was removed and sold or used. What else did she know about silos? The temperature and the moisture had to be controlled.

  But there were cracks in this silo.

  It was old—no longer in use.

  There were cracks.

  “Eureka.” She scrambled to her feet.

  “Snake or rat?”

  “Neither.”

  Gina sat up and yawned. “Feels like I just fell asleep.”

  “You did.” Agatha reached for Gina’s hands and pulled her to her feet. She had an idea, but she needed her friend’s help. “There are cracks in this silo.”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “If there’s cracks, then moisture has probably found its way in and moisture creates rust—”

  “Some of the panels might be weak.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Okay.” Gina reached up and carefully undid the bandanna.

  “You shouldn’t...”

  “We have to, Agatha. We could die in here, and then it wouldn’t make any difference if my head started bleeding again or not.” She reached back and felt the sticky part of her hair. “Feels like it’s not bleeding though—must have clotted.”

  She tied the bandanna to the door handle, the handle that wouldn’t open the door because it was locked from the outside. “This way we’ll know when we’ve m
ade a complete circle.”

  “Right. And we go together.”

  “You bet we do. I’m not creeping around this place by myself.”

  “We’ll start low.” Agatha had been exhausted, but now energy buzzed through her body. This was much better than waiting for rescue. And it could work. She was sure of it. “When we make a full circle, we’ll move higher.”

  “If that doesn’t work—”

  “We’ll worry about that if and when.”

  The morning stars sang together and all the angels shouted for joy...

  They faced the wall of the silo and walked slowly toward their left, testing the panels, pushing on the metal, looking for any structural weakness.

  It seemed to her that they might be on the far side from the door. It seemed as if they’d been walking the circumference of this silo for days. She pushed on the next panel, and heard a screech.

  “Four hands, together, on three...” Gina’s voice was low, prayerful. “One, two, three.”

  The panel fell with a clatter and fresh air poured in.

  Sweet, fresh Texas air.

  And all the angels shouted for joy.

  IT TOOK THEM AN HOUR to appropriate the horses, saddle up, and reach the spot where Gina’s phone had pinged the Find My Phone app. The route landed them four miles south of the main facility, but once there they only found dust and cacti.

  “Let’s think this through.” Tony rubbed his hand over his face. What time was it? How long had the girls been missing? How long was he going to wait before calling in the local authorities?

  “They were here.”

  “Or her phone was.”

  “And now?”

  Tony shook his head. Pulling out his phone, he stared down at it. Then he noticed the “last location” button. Tapping it, he saw that the phone had been turned on again, but only for eight seconds. This time the location was to the north. “Feels like we’re being jerked around.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  Tony glanced at his watch. Ten minutes after midnight. He stared up at the stars and took three deep breaths. Stuffing the phone back in his pocket, he finally said. “This doesn’t feel like Gina and Agatha. They would have sent a message or called.”