by Delores Fossen, Rachel Lee, Carol Ericson, Tyler Anne Snell, Rita Herron
Questions plagued her. Drug dealers? She supposed it was possible. Easier to think about than some sicko who’d been walking the streets of this town all his life.
Steve spoke. “Is Candy Serrano your full name?”
What had brought that on? she wondered. “Actually, it’s Candela de Serrano.”
“That’s pretty.”
“I’ve been shortening it since middle school. Candle of the Mountains may have appealed to my parents, but it always seemed like a whole mouthful to me.”
“I hope you didn’t shorten it because of your heritage. It’s beautiful. I just wondered.”
Anything to keep from thinking about the danger they might have left behind them at the Castelles’. Never had this drive felt so long.
As soon as they pulled into the driveway, Steve leaped out, running for the front door. Candy, feeling his urgency, pulled her gun belt and service pistol out of her locked trunk and tightened them around her waist. Then she took off after Steve.
She arrived at the door in time to see a harried Todd open it. The instant he spied Steve, he said, “The voice again. And this time I heard it, too.”
Damn, Candy thought, her insides tightening. Someone had to be down in that tunnel.
“It sounds like he might be screaming,” Todd added. He stepped back, opening the door wide.
“Stay here,” Steve said. “Lock the doors.”
Todd’s eyes widened, his mouth opened, then closed. “What?”
Candy spoke. “Todd, please. Get together and lock up. This might be no ghost at all.”
Todd nodded jerkily as if trying to absorb all of it. “That’s why the sheriff was out back earlier?”
“It’s possible,” Steve said. “Just let us check it out.”
As they strode toward the barn, Candy said, “I’m calling for backup.”
He didn’t argue. They were both fairly certain now that there could be a man in that tunnel. Possibly upset about the missing coffin.
Possibly armed. Likely a serious threat if he was involved with those teens.
Candy felt that uneasy prickle again, the sense of impending danger. Like a night patrol, when the enemy could be hard to see even with night vision goggles. Plenty of impenetrable things to hide behind.
This guy had a tunnel. Concealment. No, he couldn’t get past them on his way out, or at least she thought he couldn’t, unless there was a door they’d missed. But they’d be every bit as trapped as he was.
Glancing at Steve, she decided he was going into his own type of combat mode. Maybe from his street days. There was little light to see by, except what reached them from the house. The clouds had begun to dump sleet.
Thank God they had found those teens before the icy weather had done its work.
They both crept into the barn, aware that any noise they made might be heard below. Impossible to know how much sound the tunnel would deaden.
They found the trapdoor open. They shared a look in the darkness and listened. They heard a voice rambling from deep inside. Not very loud.
“They took you away, my love. I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop them.”
“Damn,” Steve whispered. “I could swear that’s Ben Wittes.”
“Yeah. I’ll go down first.”
“But...”
“I’m armed. Quit being a guy.” She had the feeling that he might have laughed under other circumstances. Regardless, unlike him she had faced situations like this.
She slipped down into the hole, wincing as the nylon of her jacket rubbed against the boards. Loud to her ears, but the voice from down the tunnel didn’t stop.
Kneeling, she began to make her way through the tunnel. It dipped down a little just past the entrance, but not enough to cause a problem. There was, however, more detritus on the floor. Rocks, dirt, all the things dislodged by the people who’d recovered the coffin and spent hours logging any evidence they could find.
As her knee hit a sharp rock, she wanted to cuss. Then she heard Steve moving behind her. No light, no light at all so as not to warn their quarry of their approach. Feeling her way along slowed her down, but it didn’t matter. She’d crept slower through worse. At least she’d been in this tunnel before.
Then she saw a glimmer of light ahead. It appeared their quarry had placed the panel over the door, but not fitted it tightly. So maybe the tunnel had amplified his voice?
No, not at all. He was talking and singing loudly now, switching from a lullaby to talk. When he talked he sounded furious, then soothing.
“You’re still here,” he said. “Sam knows it. Damn those people who took you out of here. Sam wants me to kill them all. And maybe I will.” A pause. “I got a gun, Ivy. To make it happen faster.”
Hell, Candy thought. She wished she could look over her shoulder and find out if Steve had heard, but it was still so dark in here, despite the little bits of light that worked their way around the panel.
Moving as silently as she could, she unsnapped her holster and drew out her pistol. The faintest click as she released the safety.
A steely, familiar calm settled over her. When she pulled that panel down, she’d have to move fast. Wittes might have that gun he’d mentioned near at hand. She wished she’d taken time to don the body armor that was in the trunk of her car.
Idiotic. But too late.
Candy drew a deep breath, worked her fingers around the edge of the panel and threw it to one side.
“You thought I didn’t hear you? Sam knew you were coming.”
She stared straight into the barrel of a shotgun.
* * *
STEVE SAW THE shotgun over Candy’s shoulder. He had enough experience to know what the dispersal of that shot would do to her. He eased forward, trying to figure out how to help. Her pistol was out of his reach. God. He had to find a way.
But experience helped Candy react. She flattened and rolled to one side, out of range.
Startled, Ben tried to follow her with his gun, which gave Steve the opportunity he needed. He launched forward, difficult to do from a prone position, but he managed it, again startling Ben, who didn’t seem to know how to handle this.
Ben swung his gun around toward Steve. Candy aimed her pistol and fired, missing Ben.
“You’ll never get out of here,” Steve growled. “Sheriff’s waiting at the head of the tunnel. Don’t be stupid and shoot an officer.”
Candy, who’d rolled over again with her pistol aimed, ready to shoot, stopped herself.
Steve watched the most amazing thing happen. He saw Ben start to deflate, almost as if he were a balloon. Sagging, shrinking in on himself, looking confused.
The shotgun dropped. Ben stared at it as if he couldn’t understand. Then the man looked at them as if seeing them for the first time.
It took only a moment for the two of them to wrestle Ben to the ground. Candy had zip ties on her utility belt, and used them swiftly on Ben’s wrists, while Steve crawled into the shelter and moved the shotgun safely away, opening it to remove the load.
“Done,” he said. “Now we just have to figure out how to get him out of here.”
Candy turned her head to Steve. “What just happened?”
“Darned if I know.”
* * *
HALF AN HOUR later they managed to drag Ben to the tunnel opening. He neither helped nor resisted. Waiting above were Gage and three deputies, Micah Parish, Sarah Ironheart and Guy Redwing.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Gage said.
Which pretty much said it all.
Chapter Sixteen
Two nights later, Candy stood inside the gymnasium, watching kids and teens romp, watching parents hand out generous amounts of candy.
Even though Ben Wittes was probably the killer, uneasiness still stalked the area. Besides, it was frigid outside, where the fir
st huge flakes of winter had begun to fall in noticeable quantities. Tomorrow the entire world would be blanketed in a sparkling white coat.
Cleansing, Candy thought.
Steve, who’d come, as well, moved to her side. “Can you talk?”
“Sure.” She nodded to Connie Parish, who nodded back. Connie would take over for a little while.
Outside, away from the door, their breath blew white clouds.
“I want to fill you in,” he said. They hadn’t seen each other since Ben Wittes’s arrest.
“I’d like that.”
“But I want some info in return.”
She smiled into the icy air. “I figured. I can give you at least some.”
“Thanks.” He rocked on his feet a couple of times. “The Castelles are torn between shock, horror and relief.”
“I’d expect that.”
“They want to fill in the tunnel. They’re going to wait, though, until after we film.”
She faced him, surprised. “They still want to do the show?”
“Yup. I’m amazed, too. But Annabelle and Todd said they want the truth out there. To tell people that not everything terrifying is a ghost.”
“Um, wow.” She thought about that. “But isn’t this scarier? Really? Wouldn’t it be better for people to worry about ghosts?”
“They don’t think so, and neither do my producers. Psychologists will probably be thrilled to be dealing with something besides ghosts.”
“Maybe. But what’s more terrifying?”
“Not my decision. Consider how many TV shows deal with real murders. People watch them more than they watch ghosts. If that doesn’t frighten them, this shouldn’t.”
He had a point. People were fascinated by true crime stories and didn’t have nightmares about them. “Well, you’re in line with your principles.” Principles she now believed he had.
“Exactly. No lying to the audience. No pretending that something is real when it’s not.”
“How’s Viv doing?”
“They’re still promising her the mean man is gone, that he’s been arrested by the police. I told her, too. It may take her a while.”
Candy felt truly sorry for Vivian. She didn’t deserve the terrors that would now probably follow her for a long time. “That’s to be expected. That little girl has been scared for nearly a year. Unable to sleep in her own bedroom.”
Steve nodded. Snowflakes had begun to collect on his knit cap. “Buddy seems to be relieved, too. No more sessions growling at the wall. I think his reaction is going to do more for Vivian than anything we tell her.”
“It probably will.”
He tilted his head. “Your turn.”
“Well, it gets complicated. We found a sedative in Ben’s trunk. The same one used on the teens. We also found clothes in his hamper that are covered with dirt and pine needles. Thing is, he claims not to remember any of it. Sadly, I think he’s telling the truth.”
“How could that be?” Steve sounded dubious.
“We can’t detect any lying. Besides, the first time we mentioned the murders, before they became public knowledge, his face turned a ghastly white. Nobody could fake that drop in blood pressure.”
“Unless he was a meditating Buddhist monk anyway. So he killed those kids.”
“We’ve got enough evidence to hold him. We’ll get the rest.”
“And the body in the coffin?”
She sighed. “It’s old. The medical examiner says a female, age around forty. She appears to have been killed in a fall down some stairs.”
Steve rocked again on his feet. “So that Bride guy is cleared?”
“Maybe so. Ben is claiming that Sam told him to take care of her, to talk to her and sing to her. He keeps saying that Samuel Bride didn’t kill her.”
Steve didn’t answer for a long time. “How can Ben not remember the murders? And how can he be so sure that Bride didn’t kill his wife?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t. We’re beginning to believe there’s something loose in his head.”
“Maybe.” Steve sighed. “Please get the answers. I really don’t want to start wondering if that guy is truly psychic.”
Despite the circumstances, Candy had to laugh. “I couldn’t agree more.”
Then Steve smiled at her. “You open for coffee after this shindig winds down?”
Her heart leaped. Oh, this was bad. She ought to tell him no, to start distancing herself. Instead she said, “Yes.”
* * *
KIDS, STEVE THOUGHT. He got a kick out of watching the youngsters squeal their way through the haunted house that ran along a hallway that opened off the gym.
Candy told him the teens who worked on the party had toned it down so it wouldn’t be too scary for the little ones.
And somebody had even found a copy of “Monster Mash” to play, which had kids of every age dancing all around the gym.
But when midnight came, parents had a difficult time trying to round up everyone. Steve remembered the days when he could stay up into the wee hours having a good time. Remembered. He couldn’t do that easily anymore.
But at last Candy escaped and he followed her home, wondering if he should go by the truck stop to get coffee and a nibble for them. It would be nicer, he decided, than dumping all that on Candy at this hour.
She was waiting when he arrived, looking wide awake. The evening must have stimulated her. For his part, sleepiness stalked the edges of his mind.
But he needed to spend time with her. Needed to talk with her. Hope was slender, but he had to try. Emotions were welling up in him, beyond his ability to control.
She curled up on her couch beneath a warm throw, sipping coffee and eating a jelly-filled doughnut. “I love these doughnuts,” she remarked. “Ever since I was little. I didn’t get them very often. My mama and my abuela—that’s my grandmother—had a whole bunch of desserts they made, from flan to three-milk cake. Empanadas. All good. Excellent in fact. But not jelly doughnuts.”
He hesitated, his own doughnut forgotten. “You don’t talk much about your Latin heritage, do you?”
She sighed and shook her head. “It’s not a popular topic. Besides, I took enough guff about it when I was in school. It was better in the Army.”
Another sign of her growing trust for him. He felt honored. “I don’t think you should have to hide it, Candy.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have to, but life has taught me otherwise. You know, my family has been in California since it was a Spanish colony. People don’t want to know that either. I was frequently told that I should go back to Mexico.” She snorted. “My family was there, too, when the state was part of Mexico.”
“People can be such ignoramuses.”
“I doubt many of their school history classes covered the subject. I try to excuse it now, but back then it really hurt.”
He didn’t answer immediately, seeking the right words. But then there didn’t seem to be any but the bald truth. “I’ve seen it. I’ve seen a lot of it, and it just seems to keep getting uglier. For indigenous peoples, too. Man, they’ve been here for at least twenty-five thousand years.”
“The world is filled with conveniently short memories.”
“Except yours,” he said quietly.
Her head raised. “I need to apologize for that night.”
“No, you don’t. Not ever, not with me. End of discussion.”
The jelly filling was gone from her doughnut. He watched her put it aside. “Hey, that’s not a cop thing to do!”
She laughed. “Maybe not. How’d that get started anyway?”
“Cops work ridiculous hours and there aren’t many places open in the middle of the night. Run in, grab a coffee and a doughnut, then get back on the road. Some places offer it for free.”
She lifted a brow. “Isn�
��t that a bribe?”
“No. They never asked anything in return. I always figured they just liked the traffic in their parking lots during those hours.”
“Police protection?”
He shook his head. “Police presence for all of four minutes at a time. Like I said, they never asked for a thing, and a dollar cup of coffee and a fifty-cent doughnut hardly classify as a bribe.”
“I wouldn’t do anything in exchange for that.”
“Exactly.” He was having a terrible time coming around to what he most wanted to discuss with her. If his hand grew any tighter around his cup of coffee, he was going to crush it.
“Candy?”
“Yeah?” She appeared to have drifted away a little.
“Am I right in thinking you don’t want to go back to California?”
“Maybe for a visit eventually. But to stay? I like it a whole lot better here.”
“I thought so. So I want to make a proposition.”
He had her full attention now. Putting his coffee down, he crossed to sit beside her curled-up legs on the couch. “How would you feel if I came back to visit you?”
* * *
CANDY CAUGHT HER BREATH. Every cell in her being seemed to be reaching out toward Steve, but she held still. Where was this going? “I wouldn’t mind.”
“Good.” He paused, keeping her dangling somewhere near hope, but also near fear.
God, what was he suggesting?”
“Thing is,” he said slowly, “I wasn’t kidding when I said I want to know you better. I wasn’t kidding when I said I want you. Damn me for a boor if you want.”
Her heart was tripping fast now. Heat began to sizzle throughout her body. “You’re not a boor.”
He compressed his lips for a few seconds, then spoke again. “What I want is a relationship. Hell, I want more than that, but you must need time. But if we build something bigger, it’s okay if you don’t want to move to California.”
Now she could barely breathe. “Why not?”
“My home is there, but I’m almost never there anyway. I could come visit you between programs, between seasons. You don’t need to live with me in an empty house for long stretches. Without the job you clearly love, or the friends you’re making here.”