Blind Faith

by CJ Lyons

  Grigory pivoted in his seat, interrupting Max's litany. "How did you discover this? There was no time for reconnaissance."

  Another beaming smile from Max. "Didn't need to." He unearthed a computer the size of a notebook and opened it. "Welcome to the Hopewell Chamber of Commerce website. And the county sheriff has their own site as well. We have maps, building plans, satellite imagery. Everything you ever wanted to know."

  Grigory scanned the photos and reams of information scrolling down the screen. He despised computers, they were for peons like Diamontes to use, not an artist like himself. But now he saw that perhaps there was something more to the machines and cyberspace. Nothing close to the level of artistic achievement he had attained, but poetic. In an ironic way.

  "We have everything you need. Including," Max smirked at Alexi, "enough Semtex to destroy the dam above the town and bury any evidence that we were ever there. Once we block the road and cut off communication, the entire town of Hopewell is our playground."

  Cold fire burned through Grigory's gut at the image of five hundred souls, huddled together for his enjoyment. His mother's father had claimed a distant relationship to Stalin, had bounced Grigory on his knee, extolling the dictator's virtues and whispering tales of his "diversions." Ever since he was a child, Grigory had been fascinated by torture and mass murderers, had studied the masters back to the days of ancient Persia and Sparta.

  Now he would surpass them all. Five hundred lives, his to command. His masterpiece—bigger, bolder than Picasso's Guernica. A living, breathing, bleeding testament to his genius.

  "I want to see this place for myself. Then we'll pay Miss Sarah a visit. Get a look at the lovely lady up close and personal."

  "Since I only have the one holding cell," Hal said as he escorted Sarah inside the police department's cramped office, "I'm afraid I'll have to handcuff you to a chair. It's only until we get this all straightened out."

  Sarah didn't argue, she was still too stunned by the turn of events. Josh and Sam alive, Alan a crook who wanted to kill her, Sam a crook who had other crooks trying to kill him, the FBI in on it all, Sam lying to her, hiding her son from her, stealing two years of her life from her. Not to mention the biggest shock of all: the realization that he was the only one she could trust to save Josh.

  Her body felt heavy and she was glad to sit in the chair Hal guided her to. Thank goodness he'd returned to his usual self after finding Logan. Hal seemed to assume Logan was to blame for this mess.

  "Hey, that's not right," Logan protested as Caitlyn opened the door to the holding cell and motioned him inside. "I'm the victim here. She was holding the gun on me. If anyone gets locked up, it should be her, not me."

  "Go on, Jack," Caitlyn said, giving him a small shove.

  Logan dug in his heels. "C'mon, cut me some slack here, Caitlyn. I'm a federal agent, just like you."

  "Former federal agent. Get in."

  Hal finished restraining Sarah's left wrist to the chair arm and strode over to confront Logan. He stood, hands on his hips, leaning forward so that his face was mere inches from Logan's. "My house, my rules. If I want you locked up, you get locked up. Now!"

  The last came out as a bark that made Sarah jump. Hal never lost his cool, never. But then lots of things that she'd never expected seemed to be happening tonight.

  Hal placed his hand on the small of Logan's back and before Sarah could blink, the former FBI agent was locked in the cell. Caitlyn held out her hand and Hal dropped a set of keys into her palm. She crooked her finger at Logan who thrust his hands through the bars and waited impatiently while she removed his cuffs.

  "Terroristic threats, false imprisonment, assault," he said in a petulant tone, shaking his head at Caitlyn. "This isn't going to end well. Your can kiss your career good-bye, Caitlyn."

  Sarah was surprised to see Caitlyn grin at that. "Already have, Jack. Already have. Shut up while I talk with Mrs. Durandt, will you?"

  "You're wasting time, Caitlyn. I'm the one you should be talking with. After you do, you'll be wishing you'd cooperated with me, shown me some respect."

  Sarah ignored Logan as she watched Hal unclip his gun and lock it in his bottom desk drawer. He took the two wallets he'd taken from Logan and quickly flipped through them. Her heart stuttered when he opened Sam's but he said nothing, merely dropped it in his desk drawer, leaving Logan's wallet on the desk in plain sight. He raised his head, his gaze piercing as he stared at her and gave her a small nod.

  She released the breath she'd been holding and mouthed the words, thank you. When Caitlyn joined him at the desk, he was thumbing through Logan's credentials. "He does have a permit for the HK. But not for the Glock."

  Caitlyn cleared the magazine and rounds from both guns. Her hands seemed to float effortlessly over the weapons, as if she could perform the maneuver in her sleep.

  "Expensive," she said as she sighted down the Heckler-Koch's barrel, breaking every rule of gun safety by aiming it at Logan. "And it's been fired recently. Hope those insurance folks give you a nice severance package, 'cause I don't think you'll be working much in the future, Jack."

  "Caitlyn, we need to talk," Logan replied, exasperation coloring his tone.

  "I'm all ears," Hal answered. Logan curled his lips in a frown and turned his back on the police officer. "Agent Tierney has no jurisdiction in this matter, so until you decide to speak with me, I'm afraid that cell will be your home."

  "We'll see about that, you shit-kicking redneck," Logan muttered.

  Hal's face flushed. He scooped Logan's gun and ammunition into an evidence bag. Caitlyn was examining Richland's gun, frowning as she traced a fingernail along the bottom of the grip. "This one hasn't been fired but it looks like government issue. I can have our guys at Quantico run it through the system."

  Hal reached for the gun and took it from her, dropping it into a separate evidence bag. "It's four in the morning. It can wait."

  Sarah saw the narrowed look Caitlyn shot him. Hal had his back turned, locking all the evidence in the small safe that sat behind his desk. "Matter of fact," he said, his back still to her, "why don't you head down the mountain to your motel, get some rest? We can straighten all this out by the light of day."

  Caitlyn settled into the other chair, stretching her legs out before her. "Sorry. You're stuck with me. I never had a chance to check into a motel." She turned to Sarah. "So, Mrs. Durandt. Do you want to exercise your right to an attorney or would you like to clear this all up right here and now?"

  "Don't say anything, Sarah," Logan called out. "Call Alan. He'll straighten this out."

  Caitlyn swiveled to stare at him. "A minute ago you were calling her a desperate criminal who kidnapped you at gunpoint. Now you're helping her with her legal rights?"

  Logan shrugged and smiled. "You know the Bureau's motto, Caitlyn. Truth, justice, and the American way."

  "Bull shit. What in hell is going on here?"

  Hal intervened. "Calm down everyone. If Sarah wants a lawyer, she has every right to call one. And she deserves some privacy while she does. Agent Tierney, would you mind joining me out in the hallway?"

  Sarah was grateful for his help, but the look of suspicion that settled onto Caitlyn's face made her nervous. Hal pushed the phone over to where she could reach it and tapped Caitlyn on the shoulder, nodding toward the door leading into the post office.

  "We can't leave prisoners unattended," Caitlyn protested.

  "They're not going anywhere. Besides, I'd like to have a word with you. Now."

  Sarah hesitated, her hand on the phone receiver. Caitlyn stood but her eyes were narrowed and her brow creased as she stalked from the room. Hal followed her and closed the door behind them.

  "Alone at last," Logan sang out. "That police chief of yours is a real rube. He must have a soft spot for you, though. So Sarah, here's how we play this. You saw lights on in the cabin, found me there. When you saw the gun in my hand, you jumped me, took me by surprise, and tied me up. You were just getti
ng ready to call the police when Chief Bozo and the girl-wonder showed up all hot and bothered."

  Sarah listened, hating to lie to Hal, but accepting the necessity. Logan's eyes glittered as he craned his head to look through the small window in the door Caitlyn and Hal had passed through.

  "Your chief does have good taste, though. I tried for years to get Caitlyn in the sack and all I got for my troubles were threats of reporting me for harassment. Hmm, hmm. I wonder if she was worth it. I'd expect her to be a ball-buster. Maybe that's why he's willing to serve her up now."

  Logan's stare raked over Sarah. She felt dirty, clammy as if he'd had his hands on her. "Or do you two have something going? Has Chief Bozo been knocking on your door, comforting the poor, widow lady?"

  "Go to hell."

  He laughed. "Just don't forget our deal. Call Alan, play it like Sam jumped me and you heard the gunshot, stumbled in on everything. Act all sweet and innocent. I'm sure you know the routine." He leered at her, one eyebrow arched. "Our favorite lawyer still has ideas about getting you in the sack, he'll forget everything else if you play along. Promise him the world. Tell him you don't care about Sam, that you ran away because he betrayed you. Tell him all you care about is getting your son back, that you'll do anything if he helps you."

  Sarah swallowed hard. She would do anything to get Josh back, but pretending she cared about Alan made her skin crawl. He'd see right through her, she was certain.

  No. She'd have to get it right. She raised the receiver and dialed Alan's number. Sam and Josh's lives depended on it.

  "What the hell is wrong with you?" Caitlyn wheeled on Hal as soon as the door shut behind him. "You can't leave prisoners unattended."

  "Maybe you haven't noticed, Agent Tierney, but this isn't the FBI. You get me a budget that lets me do everything by the book and I'll be happy to. But my only other option is to drive them down to the county lockup in Plattsburgh and I'm not ready to do that. In fact, I'm betting there won't even be any charges brought on all this."

  He leaned against the wall beside the bulletin board with the Wanted posters as if this was a normal day's work. His face was relaxed, but she saw his hand working, opening and closing into a tight fist. He followed her glance and his hand froze, then he began scratching at the inside of one wrist like something had crawled under his skin.

  "You're betting on your friend, Sarah Durandt," she said. "Look, Hal. I like her too. But there's something going on here. And I think she's in it, up to her pretty little eyeballs."

  "I've known Sarah practically all her life. Trust me, she wasn't involved in what happened to Sam and Josh."

  "What about Logan? I told you what I'd found at Quantico—"

  "Which is why he's the one behind bars." He pushed off the wall and raised both hands, placing them on her shoulders, squeezing lightly. "You sure this isn't about what happened earlier? I'm sorry if I put you in a compromising position." He flicked the collar of her shirt, lowered his head, and kissed her. "But it was worth it, Caitlyn. Every minute. It was a precious gift, and my only regret is that we don't have more time."

  Caitlyn hated the way his touch made her blood surge, almost causing her to forget the reason why she'd come to Hopewell to start with. She turned her face away from his without returning his passion. He stepped back, arms spread wide in surrender.

  "All right, if that's how it's going to be. But I meant every word of what I said."

  "I'm more worried about what you're not saying. What's going on here, Hal?"

  He hung his head, shaking it slightly. "I only wish I knew. But you have to trust me. Your heavy-handed FBI ways aren't going to work around here—just like they didn't two years ago. Leave it to me and I promise, I'll get you all the answers you need."

  She frowned, felt the pressure begin to build behind her eyes. Damn, she'd been pain free for hours and now she'd pay the price. If this headache was anywhere near as bad or disorienting as the last ones, then she would have no choice but to trust Hal to finish what she started.

  Hal brushed his hand along her forehead, soothing the furrows there as if he could sense her headache as well. "Guess we gave Sarah enough time."

  "You mean gave them enough time to get their stories straight."

  He strode to the door, his boots clacking on the linoleum, the noise driving into her brain like a sledgehammer. She had no choice but to follow.

  Sam stumbled through the fog, thoroughly lost. He was searching for the fork in the trail that would take him back to Sarah's, but instead found himself on the main trail leading to Lake Road.

  "Sam, over here!" A strange voice called out his name and he wondered if he was hallucinating. Then two figures walking bicycles appeared from the mist, beckoning to him. "This way!"

  He wasn't sure if he should run and hide or trust them. Then he drew close enough to see who they were. "JD and—" He faltered, searching for the girl's name.

  "Julia, Mr. Durandt. Julia Petrino." She held her hand out as if they were meeting in a receiving line.

  He took it in both of his. "Julia, of course. You wrote that beautiful sonnet about the Indian Princess and her Thundergod. Won the middle-school writing contest two years ago. My wife was very proud of you."

  Even in the thinning fog he could see the blush creep over her face. "It's my favorite story, Ahweyoh flying into the air, so sure of their love that she knows her Thundergod will save her," she said with a shy smile.

  Sam knew the legend well. "Sarah loves that story, too."

  He remembered the first time Sarah had told him about the two Indian lovers. The first time they had made love, on top of the mountain where it felt as if they had owned the world, that anything was possible. He had promised himself he would tell her the truth that night, but after falling beneath her spell, he convinced himself that a woman like Sarah would never have fallen in love with a stupid, selfish idiot like Stan Diamontes.

  Surrounded by her arms, comforted in the warm embrace of the mountain and the stars above them, he had decided that he was now a different man, a new man. And the next morning as the sun began to seduce the mountains with its golden glow, he had risen and found the last piece of Stan still remaining. A photo of him surfing when he'd chased the big waves to Oahu. Until then, he'd thought that was the happiest day of his life.

  Sam had breathed life back into the fading embers of their campfire. He held the photo out to the dancing flames, watching as they licked its edges, turning from yellow to red to blue, before greedily devouring Stan's image. Small curlicues of ash had risen into the air, flying out over the gorge until they vanished.

  Stan Diamontes was dead. And Sam Durandt had the rest of his life to look forward to.

  He had woken Sarah. The rising sun bathed her in streams of ruby and gold. They had made love again and as they clung together, shivering in the morning breeze, tears had warmed Sam's face.

  Sam choked back the memory and returned his focus to the two kids in front of him.

  "Are you all right?" Julia asked.

  Sam didn't trust his voice yet, so he merely nodded.

  JD grabbed Sam by the arm, squeezing his biceps. "Wow," he said breathlessly. "What happened to you? Skinhead and all bulked up—were you in jail?"

  Sam said nothing. What could he say? It didn't matter because JD and Julia filled in all the gaps in conversation.

  "Was it you causing all the lights? We've been following them for days, they've been spotted down by the dam and two spots up on the ridge."

  "Near the upper falls and just past Hal Waverly's house. Where'd you go, Mr. D? Why'd you come back? Who were those men with the guns?"

  "Do you need a doctor?" Julia asked.

  "Yeah. Looks like they beat the crap out of you."

  Sam had to admit he was limping a bit and he was certain he'd cracked a rib. "No doctor, thanks." He stopped and turned to the two teens. "You two can't tell anyone you saw me or that I'm still alive."

  JD waved him off. "Sure, we know that. M
rs. D said the same thing. I'm thinking those guys with the guns are holding your son for ransom. So what are they making you and Mrs. D do? Blow up the dam or something?"

  "Are they terrorists? Al Queda?" Julia asked breathlessly. Sam noted the way JD's arm wrapped around her waist protectively. Guess he didn't need to ask what these two were doing out all night while watching for their mysterious lights.

  "They are very dangerous men, that's all you need to know. All right?"

  They nodded in unison, their eyes wide with excitement. Good Lord, was he going to have to lock them up somewhere to keep them out of trouble? "Do you know what happened to my wife?"

  "Hal Waverly and the FBI lady took her and the man to the police station."

  Sam blew his breath out in exasperation. No way he could show his face anywhere near town. Now that both Alan and Logan knew where Josh was, he couldn't waste any time. "Do either of you have a cell phone?"

  Julia pulled one from her pocket. "The reception up here isn't very good," she cautioned him.

  He flipped it open and dialed Mrs. B's number. She answered after the second ring, her voice crackling with static. "It's me," he said. "Everything all right there?"

  "Speak up, Sam, I can barely hear you."

  "Josh, is he all right?" he was practically shouting now, pacing up and down the path in search of a reliable signal.

  "Up all night with one of his bad dreams, he just fell asleep a short while ago. Are you okay?"

  "No. Things are," he darted a glance at the two teens, eagerly listening to his side of the conversation, "more complicated than I thought. I need you to take Josh and leave. Go to that place I told you about. There's money in the lockbox."

  "The motel outside of Montreal? I have to tell you, Sam, I don't like this. Not one bit. That boy needs his parents, both of them."

  Sam raised his head, beseeching the heavens. The fog was lifting and the sky lightening, but he still was no closer to saving Sarah and Josh than he had been yesterday. If anything, he'd made things worse. "I know, I know. Please, Mrs. B, I need you to do this. I need you to keep Josh safe."