Page 79 of Dirty Valentine
Then we saw it.
Seven weathered stones formed a rough circle about fifteen feet across—Bridget Ashworth’s boundary markers, where she’d grown her herbs three centuries ago.Ancient oaks formed a natural amphitheater around the circle, their branches blocking out most of the sky.
In the center stood a pyre of old wood and fresh kindling, rising six feet high.Jeri and Richard Lawson were tied to a central pole, their heads lolling forward with unconsciousness.
Two figures in dark robes stood at opposite points around the circle.Potts at the north, weapon ready.Evangeline at the east, holding an unlit torch like some medieval executioner.
Something felt wrong about the setup, but I couldn’t identify what.
That’s when someone stepped from the shadows behind us.
“Hello, Sheriff.”
I spun, weapon drawn, and felt reality shift sideways.
Judith Hughes stood twenty feet away, no longer the terrified victim who’d cowered in a barn.This woman held herself with calm purpose, a knife glinting in her hand, her eyes clear and focused.
“Surprised?”Her smile held sharp edges.“I’m a much better actress than anyone gave me credit for.Did you wonder how Thomas was poisoned?He was pathetically easy to manipulate.Promise a man sex and new information about his obsession, and he’ll drink anything you put in front of him.”Her smile turned predatory.“We never got to the sex part.Pity.He was quite skilled at it.”
Jack’s weapon tracked to her, but she was positioned where any shot risked hitting his parents.Professional calculation, not emotion.
“Welcome to the reckoning,” Potts called out, finally turning to face us.“You’re just in time to witness justice being served.”
Evangeline touched her torch to the base of the pyre.The kindling caught immediately, flames racing upward through dry wood with hungry intensity.
“Let them go,” Jack said.His voice carried absolute authority—the tone that made hardened criminals surrender without a fight.
“After the truth is heard.”Potts gestured toward the tree line.“Richard Blackwood owes us a debt.”
Blackwood stumbled into the clearing, his expensive suit torn and muddy, his face gray with terror.He clutched a leather portfolio like a shield.
“Read,” Evangeline commanded.“Let everyone hear what your family did.”
With shaking hands, Blackwood opened the portfolio.His voice cracked as he began reading from aged parchment—a confession detailing how his ancestor had fabricated evidence against Bridget Ashworth, murdered witnesses, stolen land while she was still warm in her grave.
The fire climbed higher.I could see Jeri starting to stir, coughing as the first tendrils of smoke reached her.
Jack made a subtle hand signal.Martinez and Daniels began shifting position.But as they moved forward, Potts swung her weapon toward the pyre.
“One step closer and I put a bullet in that kindling.It’s soaked with accelerant—one spark and they go up like Roman candles.”
Jack froze.Even if he took Potts out, her death grip could pull the trigger.The fire would spread faster than he could reach them.
“Smart choice.”Potts’s satisfaction was evident even through the electronic distortion.“You’re learning not to be as reckless as your ancestor.”
The flames were already climbing toward the center of the pyre.Every second meant less chance of rescue, but any aggressive move meant watching his parents burn alive.
I could see the calculation playing out in Jack’s mind—angles, distances, probabilities.His training said move, but the tactical situation said wait.Either choice could be fatal.
The fire crept higher.Smoke began to curl around Jeri and Richard, and both were starting to cough more violently.
“Time’s running out, Sheriff,” Judith called mockingly.
That’s when I noticed Jeri’s hands moving.Not random struggling—deliberate, purposeful work.She was picking at the ropes with her fingertips, using techniques I recognized from her arthritis therapy sessions.
“Keep them talking,” I whispered to Jack.
He caught the movement too, his stance shifting almost imperceptibly.
