One Book in the Grave: A Bibliophile Mystery

“You’ll do everything I tell you. No discussion.”
     
    “Of course.”
     
    I thought I heard him snort, but I could have been mistaken.
     
    We both got out of the car and closed the doors as quietly as we could. Then Gabriel drove off. The moon and stars were blocked by clouds and the darkness was almost absolute.
     
    I grabbed for Derek’s hand, then flinched when he whispered in my ear, “Stay behind me. Let’s go.”
     
    We snuck through the line of trees and were instantly enveloped in woods. Leaves slapped at my face as we made our way toward the meager light a few hundred yards away.
     
    Finally we reached the edge of a clearing and saw a small, rustic A-frame log house situated at the foot of a steep incline. The car with the broken taillight was nowhere in sight.
     
    “Shall we?” Derek whispered, tugging at my hand.
     
    “Shall we what?” I said in a hiss. What did he have in mind?
     
    He didn’t hang back to chat about it, but edged closer to the house. Somehow, he barely made a sound, while my feet were like jackhammers as I trod over fallen leaves, twigs, and dried-out flower beds someone had once cared enough to plant.
     
    Is he going to knock on the door?
Well, why the hell not? We’d done stranger things, and maybe the A-frame owners had seen or heard something.
     
    But Derek skirted the steps up to the front door and crept around the side, where he peered into a window, then walked on toward the back of the house. I was making too much noise so I waited for him on the side of the house, pressing myself against the wall to avoid being seen.
     
    “Hhrrmmmmrup!”
     
    I jolted nearly a foot! Then I stumbled back against the rough log exterior, scraping my back. It hurt, but I tried not to moan out loud since someone else out here was in worse shape than I was.
     
    Derek dashed around and found me. “Was that you?”
     
    “No. It sounded like someone trying to call for help.”
     
    I scanned the woods before grasping the fact that the cry had come from inside the house. “Someone’s in there.”
     
    Derek took the front steps in one hurtle and grabbed hold of the doorknob. I scurried after him.
     
    “Locked,” he muttered.
     
    “Now what?”
     
    My question was answered as Derek stepped back a few feet, then kicked the door in. I grinned. I couldn’t help it. Even in this crazy, dangerous situation, I had to admit that Derek Stone was really something.
     
    The door swung back and forth futilely and Derek pushed it out of the way; then we stepped cautiously inside the dimly lit front room. I looked around but didn’t see anyone. The furniture—a sofa and two chairs, various tables—was all neat and matching. The house was clean. I peeked into the kitchen. It was tidy, with a few dishes drying next to the sink. So someone had to be living here; they just didn’t appear to be around at the moment. Probably a good thing.
     
    Derek crept toward a doorway leading to a short hall. I followed inches behind him. Peering down the shadowy hallway, I could make out four closed doors.
     
    The first opened to a small bedroom. It was empty. So was the bathroom next to it. The third door was a closet so dark, I couldn’t see a thing inside it.
     
    We made our way to the last door and opened it. The light on the nightstand was turned on, illuminating the room enough that I could see what I never expected to see.
     
    In complete shock now, I could barely breathe. I clutched Derek’s arm and tried to swallow, but my throat was too dry. I could feel Derek’s arm muscles tense up, as well.
     
    A man wearing only a pair of knit boxer shorts was lying in the middle of the bed. Splayed in four directions, his hands and feet were tied to the four bedposts of the fancy, queen-sized bed. He twisted and struggled to free himself, but to no avail. He could only grunt and moan because of the wide strip of duct tape covering his mouth. His eyes were wild with fear and desperation.
     
    It was Solomon.
     

Chapter 26
     
    Solomon?
    “Good lord,” Derek murmured, and rushed over to the bedpost to free the pitiful man’s hands.
     
    “Wait,” I said. Tossing my shoulder bag on the small chair by the window, I walked up to Solomon and stared into his eyes. It wasn’t fear I saw there. It was…defiance? He stared right back and I tried not to flinch. Even bound and gagged, the man had the ability to scare the heck out of me. I turned away.
     
    “Derek, we need to talk in the