Bedlam

by Susanna Strom

  A creaking sound from a nearby cell indicated that Sara was on her bunk, too. I’d read someplace that political prisoners often sleep their days away, their minds’ way of protecting them from boredom or fear. If Sara could find any respite in sleep, it was a good thing, and I wouldn’t disturb her.

  Resting my chin in my hands, I closed my eyes and allowed my thoughts to wander. Sometime later, a clattering at the door to the Women’s Ward brought me to my feet. Two Allsop men entered. While one guard held his weapon at the ready, the other delivered our dinner: two bottles of water, a teriyaki flavored jerky stick, a package of cheese and peanut butter sandwich crackers, and a plastic cup of diced pears. Quite a step down from rib eye, Caesar salad, and cheesecake. Sighing, I chowed down. I had no appetite and wasn’t tempted by the processed fare, but I hadn’t eaten today, and I’d need my strength to face whatever was coming.

  After dinner, Sara, Rocco, and I sat cross-legged at the doors to our cells carrying on a desultory conversation, a halfhearted attempt to keep each other’s spirits up. We even played a few rounds of twenty questions. The light spilling from the overhead window gradually faded, and darkness seeped into every corner of the Women’s Ward. I rested my forehead against the metal mesh, fighting back despair.

  “You should try to sleep,” Rocco called in a low voice.

  “Good idea,” I replied. Impossible notion, but no reason to say that to a man who was only trying to help. Metallic creaks told me when Sara and Rocco sprawled on their bunks. A short time later, Rocco’s snores punctuated the silence. The springs rattled when Sara rolled over. Drawing my knees to my chest, I sat on the cold cement floor. And waited.

  Hours later, keys jangled in the door to the ward. I hopped to my feet and grabbed the heavy porcelain tank cover with both hands. My heart raced. I wouldn’t go down without a fight. A tall man holding a flashlight stepped inside the Women’s Ward. The flashlight beam swept over the room before stopping on my cell door. Blinking against the sudden brightness, I squinted as my eyes adjusted to the light.

  Finn stood inside the door. My heart sank. The man I’d trusted would be standing guard while Brody came for me. Betrayal bit deep and only stubborn pride kept me from sobbing. My fingers tightened on the tank cover. I’d let Brody have it, then I’d clobber the traitor Finn. I’d steal their keys and take their weapons, then Sara and Rocco and I would break free. We’d find Kyle and Ever and Mrs. B. and—

  A dark figure appeared behind Finn, and I sucked in a breath, readying myself to fight. He stepped around Finn and the world came to a shrieking halt.

  TWENTY

  Kyle

  Half a dozen men followed Brody outside the house, including Jonesy, Elliot Allsop, and the blond man who’d driven my pickup yesterday.

  “What do you mean Sunny is gone?” I demanded, a block of ice taking up residence in my chest. “Where did she go?”

  Mr. Allsop placed a hand on my shoulder. “There was an incident downtown, son. A truly horrific incident. Prepare yourself.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said, looking from one man to the next as if their solemn faces could help me make sense of Mr. Allsop’s words.

  “Sunny asked to go downtown to visit one of her Haven friends,” Mr. Allsop said. “I sent my man with her, of course.” He pointed toward the blond guy. “They were ambushed by the Nampa Boys. During the ensuing scuffle, Sunny was shot in the chest.”

  I stared blankly at him.

  “Dude, I’m sorry, but she’s dead,” Brody said. His chin trembled and his brows were angled at a downward slant, but his eyes were dry.

  What’s he talking about? Sunny can’t be dead.

  “I need to see her body,” I said. That’s the only way I’d believe this was real.

  “Unfortunately, that’s impossible.” Mr. Allsop patted my shoulder. “The Nampa Boys threw her into the back of their car and drove away.”

  They killed her and then took her body? Unless they were into necrophilia, that made absolutely no sense. Warning klaxons went off in my brain, and my bullshit meter pinged. I’d been through this before, after all, when Pastor Bill claimed that Kenzie had died from the flu. All so he could steal her away from Ripper.

  What the fuck is going on?

  I was either in a state of denial so deep that my brain simply refused to entertain the truth, or the Allsops were up to something. My eyes met those of the blond guy, the security man who supposedly accompanied Sunny to the fateful encounter. Not a scratch on him. Not a drop of blood. Not even his shirt was rumpled. If Sunny died on his watch, he should look racked with guilt—or sad—maybe numb with shock. Instead he regarded me with a level, imperturbable gaze.

  Jonesy was an unflappable hard-ass. If the Allsops had told me that Jonesy was at Sunny’s side when she was shot, I might not have questioned such a callous demeanor afterward. But the blond guy? The man who dropped to his knees to hug Ever, who called her sweet pea? Nah, that guy wouldn’t stand there like an unfeeling statue while the Allsops broke the news of Sunny’s death.

  Yeah, something is up.

  What was it Sunny had said? Brody had grown insistent when she refused to go out with him. She’d wondered if he held a grudge after she flipped him off. I swung my eyes toward my old buddy, whose face wore a perfect mask of grief. Crocodile tears, that’s what Mom would call his exaggerated expression. Had he made another move on Sunny while I was out, and had she shot him down again?

  Where is Sunny?

  I had to get to the bottom of this, but for now, they were all watching me. I moaned, then swayed, as if overcome with anguish. Staggering sideways, I braced both hands against the side of the truck. “Shit. I’m think I’m going to puke.”

  “Brody, help Kyle to his room,” Mr. Allsop snapped.

  “Let me do it, boss.” The blond guy stepped forward. “Don’t want to risk Mr. Chamberlain upchucking all over your son’s fancy shoes.” Brody stepped back, his mouth twisting in disgust.

  Elliot Allsop waved a hand. “Very well.”

  “Happy to do my bit, sir.” The blond slipped a shoulder under my arm, supporting me as I stood.

  I stumbled toward the front door, hamming it up, acting like grief and nausea left me barely able to walk. Once inside, I shut the door, whirled on the stranger, and jabbed him in the chest. “You’re going to talk.”

  “Not here,” he said under his breath. Then, in a loud cheerful voice, “Let’s get you upstairs, sir.”

  Side by side—in case somebody was watching through the window—we climbed the stairs. Once in the bedroom, I locked the door and led him to the bathroom. To muffle the sounds of our conversation, I switched on the overhead fan. Crossing my arms, I waited for him to speak. The faint scent of Sunny’s grapefruit shampoo lingered in the air.

  “You know my brother,” he said, crossing one ankle over the other as he leaned against the door. “Bear Rasmussen.”

  “Finn? You’re Finn?” Holy shit. Now that I looked for it, I saw the resemblance. Both tall, blue-eyed blonds. The same cleft in their chins. They even struck a similar pose when they leaned. “Bear has been going crazy trying to figure out what happened to you after the Wilcox Brigade stole the ranch.”

  “They winged me when I ran.” He touched his shoulder. “Then I came down with the flu. Listen, we don’t have much time.” His voice was low and urgent. “I’m undercover, spying on the Allsop organization for Major Marcus Havoc. The major’s gathering survivors in Pendleton. He wants to make sure that when society rebuilds in the Pacific Northwest, it’ll be a democratic republic based on the US constitution. Not a white supremacist state like the Wilcox Brigade dreamed of. And definitely not the kind of hereditary oligarchy the Allsops are trying to set up.”

  Too many questions tumbled through my brain, but I zeroed in on the most pressing one. “What happened to Sunny?”

  “That story that the Nampa Boys shot her?” He snorted. “Bullshit. She overheard Allsop and Jonesy talking about cutting off food t
o people over sixty-five, and she made it clear she’d never be down with that. They still seem to think that you might come around, though.”

  I’d come around, huh? I’d process that insulting piece of news later. “Where is she?”

  “Allsop is keeping prisoners at the Women’s Ward at the Old Idaho Penitentiary. Jonesy, Brody, and I locked her up there, right next to the doctor and Rocco.”

  “Wait. The Allsops took them? Not the Nampa Boys?”

  “Yep. I’ll fill you in later. What you need to know now is that Brody has designs on Sunny, and we need to get her out of there tonight.”

  “What do you mean designs?”

  Finn sighed. “He’s talking about using her like a broodmare.”

  My head almost exploded. “I’ll fucking kill the bastard.”

  Finn raised a hand to stop me from rushing out of the room. “It won’t do a damned bit of good to rush off half-cocked. I got a plan.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Far as everyone knows, I’m a trusted Allsop man. Even Sunny thinks I’m a no-good son of a bitch. I can walk right up to the door of the prison, and nobody will think twice about it. That’s our way in. We go tonight. Take out the guards. Spring Sunny, the doc, and the nurse.”

  “And then what?”

  “My cover will be shot. We’ll head to Pendleton so I can report to the major. I filled the tank in your truck and put extra gas cans in the back for your trip back to Valhalla. Should get us to Pendleton with no problems.”

  My mind raced. So many questions I didn’t have time to ask. “We have to get Mrs. B. and Ever. They’re going to Valhalla with us,” I said.

  “That’s a darned good idea,” Finn said. “The old lady would be a goner once Allsop finishes consolidating power.”

  “Unbelievable,” I muttered. The notion of Allsop starving Mrs. B. to death—because she was over sixty-five—filled me with a murderous rage.

  He blew out a breath. “I’m gonna tell Brody that you want to lie down for awhile. In an hour or two, get up and ask him for a bottle of booze. Let him think you plan to get wasted up in your room. At nine o’clock, sneak downstairs. I’ll move your truck to the far side of the garage, out of sight of the house. We’ll go get Mrs. B. and Ever. We’ll park a couple of blocks from the prison. Leave the keys with Mrs. B. If things go sideways, they can take off for Pendleton and tell the major what’s up.”

  “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

  Finn stood upright and opened the bathroom door.

  “Finn?”

  He glanced over his shoulder at me and raised a single brow, the exact same quizzical gesture Bear always made.

  “Your brother is my friend and one of the finest men I know,” I said. “You have to come home to Valhalla.”

  He smiled, his teeth flashing white against tanned skin. “I will. Soon as I can. That’s a promise.”

  Once Finn left the room, I turned on the bedside lamp and stretched out on the bare mattress. Sunny must have been in the middle of changing the sheets when she was caught. She was probably planning to make things nice for our first night together. Dear lord, what must she be thinking now? No doubt Brody had bragged about telling me that she was dead, about using her as a broodmare. I shuddered. She had to be feeling scared and hopeless.

  A soft knock on the door jolted me from my thoughts. I answered the knock. Hildy stood outside my door, holding a silver tray bearing a steaming mug of tea. Instead of a napkin, a piece of paper folded in two sat under the mug. “I thought you might like some ginger tea to settle your stomach,” she said, glancing pointedly at the paper.

  I played along. “How thoughtful. Thank you, Hildy.” When I took the tray, her hand closed over mine, giving it a squeeze before she turned and retreated down the hallway. I shut the door and set the tray on the dresser, then picked up the paper.

  Mr. Allsop lied to you. Sunny is alive. He is an evil man. If I find out where she’s being held, I’ll let you know. God bless you and God keep Sunny safe.

  I tore the note into tiny pieces and flushed them down the toilet. Mr. Allsop must never suspect Hildy’s betrayal. No doubt Jonesy would take care of her the way he’d taken care of Ever’s kidnapper. The woman was risking her life to help Sunny, a commentary both on her courage and on Sunny’s gift for connecting with people.

  I took a shower, maybe my last hot shower ever, as if that mattered under the circumstances. I threw on jeans and one of my old navy-blue T-shirts, definitely not an Allsop gray tee.

  What could I do right now to maximize our chances for success? I checked my shoulder holster, confirming that I had extra ammo. Once I left the estate at 9 p.m., I wouldn’t be coming back. I scanned the room, checking for anything that Sunny might want to take with her to Pendleton. Pendleton, not Valhalla. The reunion with my friends would have to wait.

  She’d set her family photos on her nightstand. I stuffed them into my duffel, along with her dad’s cardigan, a few items of her clothing, her favorite shampoo, and some of my own stuff. All the condoms. When it came down to it, it was surprising how little of your old life you needed to carry with you when you moved on. If Sunny and I escaped with just the clothes on our back, I’d count us as among the blessed.

  I stuck the duffel into the closet, ready to grab as I headed out of the house to meet Finn.

  Now what? It was hard not to focus on Brody’s threats against Sunny. I had to do whatever I could to keep him in the house and away from Sunny this evening. I glanced at the clock. A few minutes past 6 p.m. Mr. Allsop was a creature of habit. The Allsop men met in the library for a before-dinner cocktail at 6. I combed my hair and made my way there.

  “Kyle, will you be joining us for dinner?” Elliot Allsop inquired from his seat in a leather club chair, an unconvincing expression of solicitude on his face.

  “No, sir. I’m not feeling up to it. I hope you understand.”

  “Of course.” He inclined his head. “If you change your mind, Hildy can bring a plate up to you. She retired to her room with a migraine, but don’t hesitate to knock if you need her.”

  She probably retired to her room to avoid facing the Allsops, but sure, I’d agree to disturb a woman with a migraine so she could make me a sandwich. “Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind. Actually, though, I was hoping that Brody might do me a favor,” I said.

  Brody glanced at his father. “What do you need, man?”

  “If I want to talk later, will you be around? I could use a friend.” I almost choked on the words.

  Brody frowned. Was he planning to visit Sunny in her prison cell tonight? If that was the case, I had to swallow my pride and pour it on.

  I dropped heavily into a chair and buried my face in my hands. “I don’t know, Brody. I’m not sure I can keep going without her. I loved Sunny, you know?” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mr. Allsop jerk his head, silently ordering his son to reply.

  “No problemo,” Brody said without enthusiasm. “If you need me, I’ll be down in the man cave after dinner.”

  Problem solved. Like it or not, Brody was in for the night. I lifted my head. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it. One more thing.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you have a bottle of vodka or tequila I could take back to my room? Something to help take the edge off?”

  “Sure.” Brody fetched an unopened bottle of premium vodka from the bar cart. “Here you go, buddy.”

  I tucked the vodka under my arm and shook hands with both men, fighting the urge to bash them over the heads with the bottle. Back in my room, I locked the door. On impulse, I stuffed the bottle of vodka into the duffel, then I crossed to the private balcony overlooking downtown Boise. My hometown. I sighed, sinking into an upholstered patio chair. My eyes picked out the tallest buildings on the Boise skyline. The US Bank Plaza. Eighth and Main. The Capitol dome. After tonight, would I ever see the city again? Probably not. I shrugged. Life moved on and so would I.

  I lingered on the balcony until the sun went down, then
I strode to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my cheeks. Time to put my game face on. Time to ready myself for battle. I’d done it before, fought and defeated Pastor’s Bill’s cult and the Wilcox Brigade. I had it in me to do violence to protect those I loved, even if the violence ended up costing me.

  At five minutes till 9, I cracked open the door to my room and scanned the hall. No one in sight. Duffel in hand, I silently padded down the hall and stairs. To avoid the guards who stood sentry outside the front door, I exited the house through the garage. At precisely 9 p.m., Finn appeared from between the trees lining the driveway.

  “Coast is clear to the road,” he whispered. “We’ll need to push the truck to the end of the drive, so nobody hears the engine or sees the lights.” We both shoved against the truck to get it moving, then I hopped in and steered it down the drive.

  We drove straight for Mrs. B.’s place, parked, and ran to her front door. The house was entirely dark. No surprise there. Nobody with a lick of sense called attention to themselves by lighting up their house at night. Instead, they pulled the blinds and huddled around candles or lanterns in a back room. Besides, Mrs. B. probably retired early in preparation for our departure for Valhalla.

  I pounded on the door. After a few minutes, a curtain was pushed aside, and Mrs. B.’s face appeared in the window. The front door opened. Mrs. B. greeted us, a small revolver clutched in her hand.

  “Whoa, what do you got there, ma’am?” Finn asked.

  “Jack’s service weapon. A Smith & Wesson .38 Special. A lady can’t be too careful these days,” she said primly.

  “You can shoot?” I asked.

  Mrs. B. preened. “I can.”

  “Good. Pack your gun. We’re leaving now.”

  A sleepy-eyed Ever appeared behind Mrs. B. “What’s going on?”

  “Change of plans,” Finn said. “We need to take off right now. Can you get dressed real fast, sweet pea?”

  “Okay.” Ever yawned, then staggered to her room.

  “Mrs. B., Sunny is in trouble,” I said in a low voice. I quickly filled Mrs. B. in on the situation. She ran to her room and exchanged her nightgown for slacks and a blouse. Returning to the front hall, she slipped her revolver into a shiny black purse.