Solomon's Grave

by Daniel G. Keohane

  “So we’re going to sneak out now, are we?” Elizabeth took Nathan’s hand with the one she’d been using to scratch the dog.

  “No, Ma’am. Just me.”

  She rolled her eyes, but before she could say anything in reply, Vincent raised his hand. “I don’t want to hear any more arguments. Have your boyfriend drop you off at home if you have a problem with this. I can’t be seen leaving here with you, or they’ll know something’s up. They already killed Pastor Hayden. If they realize Nathan is the one they’re after, then he’s in terrible danger.”

  For the moment that stopped her, but her stare became even icier than before. He had hoped that the two of them leaving without him would be enough to appease her. Give her a chance to convince Dinneck to change his mind. It didn’t matter. Nathan had been chosen by God and there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about it. He would be there, if for no other reason than to finally have answers.

  Nathan said, “So, what’s the plan?”

  “Drive back to your church, Reverend. You know there’s a hiking trail that runs alongside the properties? Go into the church, turn on one light then go out through another door. Use the trail to reach the cemetery.”

  Nathan nodded. Every child growing up in that part of town knew where the path led, not to mention Nathan’s own jaunt along it just last week. There was a spot where the cemetery’s bordering rock wall opened up.

  “Wait at the gravesite if I’m not there. It’ll take me a little longer since I’m going to walk. If I drive they’ll see me. Best they think I’ve gone to bed.”

  Elizabeth muttered, “Can we go now?”

  “Yes. Stay safe, and may God protect you.”

  “Sure, whatever.” She headed for the door, stretching Nathan’s arm between them. He held back.

  “Don’t take long,” he said. “As much as I want to resolve this, we’re not going to wait all night.”

  “Agreed. Go now.”

  When they were gone, Vincent reached down and patted the dog’s rump. “Come on, Boy, bedtime.” He turned off the kitchen light and walked in the dark to the bedroom, tossing the jacket onto the bed. He unwrapped the gun and loaded fresh rounds into the clip. He worked quickly in the light spilling from the hall, not wanting to be out of sight much longer. He put the gun into the front pocket of the windbreaker and went into the bathroom, turning the light on as he entered, and began brushing his teeth. Johnson had remained in the bedroom, eager for the routine to fall back into place. Vincent finished at the sink, used the toilet and turned the light off behind him as he left. He had to be careful not to break his pattern. Anyone watching him, if he was being watched, would notice. Bad enough Dinneck and the girl showing up so late. He turned on his beside lamp, knelt beside the bed and prayed. He stayed longer than usual, begging for strength, for the Lord to protect the two young people and not let the woman keep Nathan from doing what he was called to do.

  He prayed also that he would be allowed to serve Him in some way even after the prize was turned over to new hands.

  He rose at last, stripped and went to bed. He set the alarm clock, turned off the light then jumped out of bed and dressed again. In the dark living room he carefully put on the windbreaker, made sure the pistol was secure in the pocket with the Velcro-fastened flap. He opened the kitchen window, then the screen, and slowly crawled outside. The gun clunked once on the sill, but otherwise he emerged onto the grass without a sound.

  Johnson tried to follow him out the window.

  “I’ll be right back,” Vincent whispered, and pushed the dog back inside with one last scratch behind its ears. He slid the window as far closed as he could manage with one arm still holding back his oldest and best friend. “Stay. Good boy.” He gave him another scratch, then withdrew his hand. “Good boy. I’ll be right back.”

  The dog whimpered in protest.

  Vincent turned around and waited, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. Then he ran the short distance to the tool shed.

  He knew the location of every tool, every unobstructed space, without needing the light. The crowbar was where it always was, on the lip of the second highest shelf near the door. His hand passed through a thick layer of spider webs to reach it. He’d had no use for this tool—he used much larger versions for working with gravestones—since Ruth last opened the crypt for him. He wiped off the cobwebs and a layer of rust all around it. He hoped it was strong enough to do its job. He reached behind him and slipped it under the jacket, wedging a third of it into the back of his jeans. Once its position had been adjusted enough to offer the least discomfort, he left the shed. The crowbar pressed painfully against his right buttock with every step. There would be no running, not without some severe and painful consequences.

  He got his bearings before moving across the yard, keeping to the edge of woods whenever possible. He walked silently, but quickly.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  For most of the ride to the church, Elizabeth remained quiet. She brooded beside Nathan, arms folded across her chest. He would have welcomed a distraction from his jumble of thoughts, even if the distraction was Elizabeth finally blowing her top. What he was planning to do felt right, the next logical step. Even if all this was pointless, even dangerous, at least it would be an answer. Either the dreams and Hayden’s murder and his father’s situation were all connected, part—or the result of—some overall plan by God, or he was letting himself be drawn into another man’s delusions. Either way, it was coming to closure. It felt like he was moving along in another dream, unable to change what was coming.

  He could stop it now, call the police and turn Tarretti in. Let them separate truth from fantasy. When he considered this, a tightness pulled at his stomach. It would be wrong, his instincts told him. Don’t fight the current; swim with it to the end.

  Then maybe Nathan could move on with his life, prepare the congregation for the shock of learning their former pastor was dead. There would be many, many people who would need him; his ear and his arm and his words for comfort.

  Problem was, he couldn’t see that result on the horizon. Not in the direction they were heading.

  The intersection with Greenwood Street passed by on their right. Elizabeth followed its progress through her window but remained silent. Nathan took the next right onto Dreyfus Road and in a moment was turning into the church’s driveway. The building was dark. He considered driving past the smaller lot in front, with its space still marked “Pastor Hayden”, and parking in the back. It would be closer to the woods and the path leading to the southern edge of the cemetery.

  That would be breaking his own routine. He parked in front. Seeing Hayden’s name bathed in the headlights filled him with a renewed sense of pain. He pushed it down. Time for that later. There was something else, another sensation kindled at seeing the sign. A sense of urgency. Nad ei tohi seda võtit saada!

  What did that mean?

  It was going to be a long night. He needed to stay focused. Looking back to the road, Nathan saw no sign of them having been followed. Time to enter the church, then pass straight through and out the back door. If someone was watching, hopefully they’d think he was still inside.

  With Elizabeth.

  Let them think what they would. At the moment, it really didn’t matter.

  As soon he turned the car off, Elizabeth turned toward him, partly restrained by the seatbelt.

  “Nate. I’ve given you enough time to think about this. Let’s go inside, and stay there. Tell me we’re not going to walk through the woods and wander into a cemetery. Please tell me that.”

  He stared out the windshield. In the dark, he no longer could read Hayden’s name except for a veiled impression of the letters. He didn’t dare look Elizabeth in the eye. Not yet. “I’ll be willing to drive you home, E. I just—”

  “I’m not going home! Especially if you’re still going through with this!” Her voice fell soft, pleading. “Nate, let’s go inside and call the police. I’m not saying
Tarretti doesn’t have some connection to all this. He might even be right about your dad’s group being involved.” She laid a hand on his arm. He flinched involuntarily, but she did not let go. “But Tarretti might be involved in a bad way. Have you thought of that? Reverend Hayden was found in the middle of the woods; you told me that yourself. Now some guy wants you to climb into a grave with him?”

  She had a point. But the images from the dreams, the vision during the Sunday fellowship dinner....

  What if they’d been warnings? What if God wasn’t telling him to pay more attention to John Solomon’s grave but rather to stay away from it?

  He closed his eyes, prayed to know the truth. Elizabeth, perhaps sensing she’d made ground with him, remained quiet. She left her hand on his arm, even offered a gentle squeeze in support.

  He imagined the stone statues, remembered the second dream. An evil had been approaching. The angels offered an unspoken peace.

  Protection.

  Dear God, I have to know. Even if it kills me, I have to know. Tonight. Now.

  “I’m going, but I’m not ignoring what you said. In fact, if you’re right, one of us needs to stay. If I’m not back in a half hour, call the police.”

  He opened the car door and stepped out. She followed him up the walkway and into the residence’s side door. Nathan felt her anger like heat against his back as he unlocked the door and stepped in.

  He turned on the light in the small hallway, bypassed the stairs and proceeded into the kitchen. He left the kitchen light off. Elizabeth’s outline stayed close behind. He said, “When I’m gone, turn on the light in here. Make yourself at home.” He walked forward and kissed her on the cheek, not daring any more of a gesture for fear he would never leave. “I’ll be right back.”

  Elizabeth held his shoulders with both her hands. She sniffed once, and Nathan realized she was crying. “I’m going with you, Nate. If you walk directly into hell, I’m walking there, too. Don’t ever think otherwise.”

  She kissed him. It wasn’t long, nor was it simply the quick, affectionate gesture he’d offered a moment before. Her tears ran down his own cheeks. When she moved back a half-step, both wiped their faces dry.

  Between sniffles she said, “Got a flashlight somewhere?”

  “In the broom closet by the back door.” He nodded behind him. “I think.”

  “We’ll grab it as we leave. Just keep it turned off until we’re far enough into the woods.” She groaned at her own words and followed him to the closet.

  He hadn’t been long enough in the house to know everything’s location by rote, but after some fumbling with his fingers along the closet shelf, he found the flashlight. He closed the door partway and flipped the switch on and off quickly to make sure it worked. There was now a glowing white dot in his vision. Trying to blink it away, he opened the door and walked outside. Elizabeth followed, closing the door with a single click behind her.

  The main parking lot took up most of the cleared property behind the church. Beyond, a large swath of grass spread between pavement and woods. It served as an elongated back yard for church functions. They walked across it without speaking, Nathan holding the darkened light in one hand and Elizabeth’s hand in the other. There was no moon. Starlight was scattered among breaks in the dark clouds above them. He made his best guess as to the entrance to the path, wishing he had taken this route last week so it would be more familiar to him.

  “You OK?” she whispered.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Here...” He gestured toward a patch in the bushes and trees which was slightly darker than the rest. When they passed into it, Nathan released her hand and held his arm ahead of him. Nothing blocked their way. They were on the path.

  He kept the arm extended, face-level. Every now and then it would connect with a low branch. At these moments, he would bend it back to allow Elizabeth to pass, then let it swing behind him like a gate.

  In this way, they moved toward the cemetery, alternating who led and held aside the next obstruction. They reached the bordering stone wall to their left sooner than Nathan anticipated. The darkness was impenetrable in most areas, but still he refrained from using the flashlight. His eyes were slowly adjusting in the pitch.

  “Keep an eye for a break in the wall. Somewhere soon, on the left.”

  There it was. An old, gnarled shape of a tree rose before them, visible only because it blocked out the stars behind it. Past this, the land opened up. The cemetery. The tree’s shape was so utterly black Nathan felt that if he reached out, his hand would pass straight through. The tree bordered one side of a small break in the wall. A smaller birch stood on the other end. Its spotted white bark was easier to distinguish.

  Before he stepped between them Nathan whispered, “Shhh.” He stood still. Elizabeth gripped one of his back belt loops as if worried he’d suddenly take off running.

  Nathan listened. Slowly, he turned his head around and gazed into the impenetrable shadows of the woods to their right. Had he heard something, seen movement in the corner of his eye? He held the flashlight before him, wanting to turn it on and bathe everything into a comforting white glow. Part of him—his guttural, childlike fear of the dark perhaps—was certain that a monster stood there, waiting for the light so it could show its teeth and devour him.

  The logical side of him also stayed the thumb resting on the switch. If the cemetery was being watched, what better way to give the two of them away than to light up the woods just before they entered?

  The feeling passed. Best get into the open and over to the gravesite. There they could duck out of the way and wait for Tarretti. Maybe stay hidden even after he arrived, see how he behaved. Check out what—or who—he brought with him.

  Nathan stepped through the opening in the wall. A slight tug on his belt loop told him Elizabeth was falling into step. He tripped over a stone and stumbled forward. The flashlight rolled out of his hands and across the cold grass a second before Elizabeth landed on top of him. His breath left in a dim cloud of mist.

  Elizabeth scrambled off and laughed, suppressing the sound with her hand over her mouth. Nathan was too concerned with breathing to be embarrassed. She bent down and kissed him on the top of his head. “You OK, Sherlock?”

  He took a tentative breath and nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I dropped the flashlight.”

  She crawled forward a few paces and picked it up. “Let’s not hang around here too long. For all we know we’re lying in a patch of poison ivy.”

  Nathan got up slowly. He took her hand. She kept the flashlight, but left it off. Nathan led the way toward Solomon’s grave.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Peter Quinn held his breath the entire time Nathan Dinneck stared into the woods where he and Josh Everson were crouched. If his voice would not have given him away, he would have commanded Everson to hold his own breath. The boy would have obliged, then eventually passed out from oxygen deprivation. Instead, he stood motionless, and Peter hoped the kid didn’t breathe too loudly.

  He’d heard the two of them coming in plenty of time to move off the path. They probably didn’t realize how much noise they were making as they trudged along. Their ignorance was a blessing, for his eyes had been on the small parking lot waiting for Dinneck’s or Tarretti’s car to pull in. The fact that they might trek in through the woods this late at night hadn’t occurred to him.

  Of course, it also meant Paulson may have failed him. If these two were going through such an effort to come here, Tarretti mustn’t be far behind. But Paulson had called only once to say that they’d left and the caretaker had gone to bed. As Dinneck stared almost directly at him, Peter assumed Paulson would choose that moment to call. His phone was set to vibrate-mode, but even that would be like a klaxon this close.

  When Dinneck and his woman fell over each other just past the wall, Peter took the opportunity to let his breath out, slowly, and take another in. Josh made no motion whatsoever. At least he was breathing. Now that the couple was far enough down the hi
ll toward the grave, Quinn whispered into the young man’s ear, “Mister Everson, follow me, and make no sound. Move carefully.”

  Whispering in the Voice was tricky, but easier than using it over the phone. Josh followed like an obedient dog.

  Peter stayed behind the large tree, keeping to its side enough for a view down the cemetery. At one point, someone had turned on a flashlight. He could hear voices, carried far in the cool night air. He did not understand what they were saying, but soon the light was out again. The dark figures ran to hide themselves behind a large monument not far from the cherubim. He guessed they would remain there until... what? Until Vincent Tarretti arrived, of course.

  Realizing how far the others’ voice had carried, he put his lips to Josh’s ears and whispered for him to sit in the path. The tree would cut off any chance of being seen by Dinneck or the woman. Paulson still had not called. The implication was that Tarretti was laying low for a while. It also implied the man knew he was being watched. Not a good situation. If they knew Peter was this close, he’d have to move fast when the chance arrived.

  He looked down to the path under his feet. He couldn’t see it, but its existence sparked an idea in him. What if the caretaker really had left, snuck out and taken some back way like these two had done?

  He’d know soon enough. He didn’t want to call Paulson, afraid the dim glow of the phone would give away his position behind the tree. He made himself comfortable on the ground, making sure the couple’s position was at least partially in view, and waited for something to happen.

  Chapter Fifty

  Vincent Tarretti needed to get off this street as soon as possible. Even if he could run without skewering himself with the crowbar, he didn’t dare draw any attention. The pistol bumped against his belly with every step. Vincent hadn’t realized he’d forgotten to bring a flashlight until he’d already walked half way across town. He usually kept it in the front pocket. He’d become too much a creature of routine, never thinking outside of whatever box he’d built around himself. He would have to be sharper than that to get through whatever was ahead. Hopefully Dinneck thought to bring one. Going back to his house now, or to the church, was a detour he didn’t think they could afford.