Missy Crawford's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

Missy dug her nails under the loose floorboard. The plank held fast. She pulled harder. A splinter bit her finger. The wood groaned but would not rise. Whatever the charmer had buried, he had hammered the boards down tight. She sat back on her heels and looked at the gray light in the window. The man might return any hour. If he caught her here, she would lose him for good. Her hands shook. She needed a tool, and she needed it fast. Silas stood in the doorway. He had guarded this cabin for weeks to see the face of the man who ruined his daughter. Now he watched Missy claw at the floor. "You'll break your fingers before you break that board," he said. "Then help me," Missy said. "Or stand there and watch me fail." For a moment he did not move. Then he crossed the room and knelt. He drew a long knife from his belt. He wedged the blade into the seam between two planks and leaned his weight on the handle. The board creaked. A nail pulled loose with a squeal. "Again," Missy said. She grabbed the raised edge and heaved. The plank snapped up. A second followed. Dirt and dust puffed into the air. Beneath the boards lay a shallow hole. Inside sat a small tin box, its lid shut with wire. Missy lifted it out. Her fingers worked the wire free. She opened the lid. Inside lay a woman's locket and a fold of money. Missy knew the locket at once. The witness had described it at her kitchen table. Her mother's locket. Forty dollars, stolen with a false promise of marriage. Silas leaned close. His jaw went hard. "That's his hiding place." His voice dropped. "He'll come back for it." Missy stared at the money. If she took it, the charmer would know someone had found his cache. He would run. She would have the stolen goods but lose the man. She made her choice. She closed the lid and set the box back in the hole. She left everything inside. "What are you doing?" Silas said. "That's hers. Give it back to the girl." "If I take it, he vanishes," Missy said. "He comes back for this. We put the boards down and we wait for him." They pressed the planks into place. Missy tapped the loose nail flat with the knife handle. The floor looked whole again, almost. Then she heard it. Boots on the broken porch steps. Slow. Heavy. Silas froze. Missy's heart slammed. There was no time to run. The box was buried, the trap was set, and the man was at the door.