His feet touched dirt. They were out of the alfalfa. He turned his face as the wind picked up the loose soil, as well.
Gabriella’s legs pressed against his arms. She dropped down. They must be close. The sound of rain, like a parade of drumrolls hitting a snare, crescendoed. It hit them from the side, and he tripped and fell over to the ground. Except it wasn’t rain. The sand and dust plastered him.
He curled in a ball, wanting to scream out, but Gabriella consumed his thoughts. One painful move at a time, though he couldn’t see, he reached where she should be with his fingers. The top of his hands felt beaten by tiny nails as the tips of his fingers reached wood and...what felt like another hand. He grasped it and forced them both to standing. He pulled his shirt over his head and peeked out of his sand-encrusted eyes. Gabriella had found the handle of the door and struggled against the wind to pull on it.
Luke wrapped himself around her back, hoping to shield her as he grabbed the handle and threw his body back. The door opened just enough for Gabriella to slip through. He kicked his wingtips against the door, and though the door slammed against the back of his leg, he managed to slide into the barn.
The darkness forced his other senses into overdrive. The smell of sulfur, mixed with the overwhelming odor of hay and dust and rotting leaves, triggered the gag reflux.
Gabriella’s coughs barely reached his ears. His head pounded. The air quality must have done a number on his sinuses. The top of his scalp tingled, and the sensation traveled down his face and body, as if his skin just realized the beating it’d taken.
Gabriella groaned. “It stings. And I’m afraid to open my eyes.”
The wind raged. The barn’s walls creaked and groaned. He lifted the inside layer of his shirt and wiped off his eyes, then his lips. A layer of dust wouldn’t budge, though, as if it’d been spray-washed onto his skin. “Don’t forget to brush off your eyebrows and shake out your hair before you open your eyes,” he suggested.
One of the walls had a set of windows at chest level. He crossed over, thinking he’d wipe off the dust from the windows with his sleeve, but what good would that do? A good six feet above, near the apex of the roof, another square window provided minimal light. The floor was not dirt as he had imagined it would be, but shiny wooden laminate. While the walls weren’t finished, he could imagine the charm of the rustic beams.
“Luke, did Rodrigo see which way we went? Did he follow?”
His gaze remained on the window, waiting for the thick brown air to settle so he could see. “I have no idea.”
“Then we can’t afford to wait the storm out.”
* * *
Gabriella shivered. She wanted to jump out of her own skin to get rid of the stinging, scratching feeling of dirt and sand. The wind shook the panes Luke tried to peer out of.
Another round of dirt sprayed against the side. A flash of bright light through the red sky lit up the room. Cement, almost like a sidewalk, lined the outer edges of the barn’s main area, but in the center, wood flooring gleamed as if it’d been recently oiled. Thunder boomed, and she jumped.
Luke crossed the room. “This doesn’t look like a normal barn.”
“No, you’re right. I told you we lived here for a little while.” She squinted as she looked toward the rafters. Across the expanse, wooden stairs led to a long banister that spanned the length of the building.
“I don’t remember, but Mom said she and I shared a bed up there. They took down the curtain just a few years ago that apparently separated her bed and my great-aunt’s.”
“Seems odd that they’d put beds up there.”
Gabriella tilted her head. “That’s what I said!” She shook her head. “They acted like I was the crazy one.”
“If they were worried about being found, your mom might’ve wanted that vantage point for a leg up. Assuming there’s another exit up there that’s easier to find than the one in the safe room.”
An uneasy laugh bubbled up. She wanted to forget the near miss of almost suffocating. “There’s a fire escape. And I’m pretty sure she had her gun ready and waiting.”
“I can’t believe she lived here with you as a baby. I mean, I love camping as much as the next guy, but I can’t imagine taking care of a baby without a kitchen.”
“You’re right. We at least had a bathroom.” She gasped. “Luke. A bathroom.” She crossed the room. Her eyes stung from the tiny sand particles still stuck underneath her lids.
“Aren’t you forgetting Rodrigo shut off the water?”
“He shut off the water to the house. He couldn’t have shut off the water to the barn unless he came out here. We have a private well, remember?”
“Don’t get my hopes up, Gabriella.”
She flicked on the light in the bathroom. A dim glow erupted from the single lightbulb in the middle of the ceiling. The twist of the handle on the sink produced a chugging, popping noise followed by brown water. She tensed, then mercifully, the color lightened and clear water poured out of the faucet. Her fingers dove into the stream, washing away the grime.
Luke slid past her and closed the door. “In case Rodrigo is nearby. We don’t want him to see the light.” The same choked sound resulted from the bathtub as Luke waited to take advantage of the water at the same time.
One lone hand towel hung from the side wall. Gabriella didn’t even want to think how long it’d been since it had been washed or switched. But the smeared mirror revealed it would only take one wrong move before the caked-on dirt would get in her eyes. She dipped her head over the sink and splashed the icy water over her features and began scrubbing, squeezing her eyes tight as she felt the layer slipping off. Then she cupped the water in her hand and blinked into the small pool of water until the stinging vanished. She repeated the process with her other eye.
How she wished she had time for a shower and the ability to forget about Rodrigo and the men who had her great-aunt’s life in their hands.
She reached for the towel blindly and opened it to the underside before patting her face dry.
“Can you pass that over when you’re done?”
Gabriella held it out to him as she firmly pressed her lips closed. She prevented voicing her thoughts on just how many germs likely flourished on that towel. He straightened, and she no longer cared. His clean face brought comfort.
The thunder shook the mirror on the wall, followed by the pounding of rain. His gaze met hers in the mirror, and a sudden vulnerability overwhelmed her.
“It feels hopeless,” she whispered. How did she ever think she could win against the mafia?
“Hey, don’t say that.” His voice lowered, and he placed a hand on her shoulder.
Her chin dropped. “I should’ve listened to you and gone straight to the police. I just didn’t want to risk it. They said if they found out, they’d kill her on the spot.” Her eyes burned and her vision blurred. She’d failed. “But you were right, Luke. She would’ve at least had a chance instead of none—” her throat closed “—at all.”
Luke’s hands framed her face as his thumb brushed the tear off her cheek. She lifted her eyes. How was it that he could make her feel safe and terrified all at the same time? She inhaled in hopes her ribs would expand enough that he wouldn’t hear her heart beating against them.
“If it were my own mom, I’m not sure I would’ve been able to risk it either. And time isn’t up, Gabriella.”
The way he said her name soothed her in a way nothing else but hot cocoa and a hug from her mom did. Her mind cleared. If she gave up now, she’d never forgive herself. “Keep fighting until time runs out, right?”
“Nothing is impossible with God.”
She took a shaky breath. She loved that verse, although at times she found it confusing. It didn’t proclaim a promise that everything would work out the way she wanted, but the v
ery words were infused with hope. God was more powerful than the mafia, than the situation—and she didn’t want to admit it aloud because it scared her too much—but she knew in her heart that He was even more powerful than death.
Gabriella pulled back her shoulders. “I really needed to hear that.”
Luke nodded. “I did, too.” His chin tilted to the ceiling. “Hopefully the rain is clearing the air.” He reached around her and flicked off the light.
She flinched as the room plunged in darkness.
“Sorry. I didn’t want to bring any attention to us when I open the door. I should’ve warned you.”
“I understand.” She hated the way her voice sounded weak and wimpy. Her great-aunt was counting on her acting brave, not cowering because of the darkness.
His arm brushed past hers. The squeak of metal meant he was opening the door. She stepped closer to the sink as the door swung inward. “If you lived upstairs, any chance your mom left you anything there?”
Gabriella couldn’t imagine that would be the case. Although she still wasn’t sure if going to the barn was a wild-goose chase. Would her mom really have tried to indicate a clue by describing the barn as historic?
Her gut twisted with threatening despair. It wasn’t as if she had anything else to go on. “Your guess is as good as mine,” she answered.
The sound of their footsteps in the cavernous room echoed like a poorly synchronized rhythm section, accompanying the rain’s melody. Her eyes adjusted, but she could still only make out the outline of the stairway in front of them. “Stay to the right, otherwise you might fall downstairs.”
Luke turned. “Downstairs?”
“There’s a cellar down there. Pure dirt floor. Mom used it for storing things.”
“Sounds like the place to start.”
“It’s been empty for years.” A chill ran up her spine as she thought about the tens...maybe hundreds of spiders and who knew what else that had time to move into the dank room. “Besides, we don’t have a flashlight.”
“There’s no light down there?”
“I don’t think so. There’s a lightbulb at the bottom of the steps but nothing to keep Rodrigo from seeing it outside if he’s nearby.”
Luke reached for her wrist. “I think we at least have to rule out the possibility, Gabriella. You want to wait here while I check it out?”
She hated both options, but the thought of being alone if Rodrigo stormed through the door caused her to tremble more than the image of spiders and mice. “No, I’m coming, but I won’t object to you leading the way.”
The dark outline of his profile turned and as his head dipped, she knew he was descending the steps. She shoved her foot in front of her to feel for the frame of the step before going down. With one hand out, she stopped at the touch of Luke’s back.
“I found the light switch,” he said. “I’m going to flip it on and take a quick look. You ready?”
She nodded but realized he couldn’t see her. “Yes.”
The light blinded her momentarily as the cellar door swung open. The beam reflected off many shiny surfaces. Gabriella squinted, trying to process what she saw. The room also seemed longer than she remembered...and less dirt packed.
“Uh...Gabriella. I don’t think this is a cellar anymore.” Luke felt around the corner and beautiful, bright light from actual fixtures filled the long room.
Her mouth dropped. “No. It’s a shooting range.”
THIRTEEN
Luke flipped off the stairway light and stepped fully inside the room.
He’d seen underground shooting ranges before but never underneath a barn. A floor epoxy made the walls gleam. The horizontal lines spread out in intervals labeled the yards.
Her mom must have really wanted to make sure she was a great shot no matter how close or far she stood from the target. The walls looked to be covered in sound-absorbent panels. Judging by the rectangular lines that didn’t match the rest of the panels, they covered up the egress windows. And, if she knew what she was doing, and Luke had no reason to believe she didn’t, the walls underneath the paneling would’ve been made with twelve-inch, sand-filled blocks.
His gaze moved to the ceiling: pre-stressed planking topped with four inches of steel-reinforced concrete. Fully enclosed bullet traps were placed just beyond the paper targets.
Directly to the right sat a leather recliner, a side table, and a mini fridge. He grunted. Add a television and this would be the ultimate man cave.
He walked to the boxes of ammunition carefully stacked on a gray waist-high countertop. Jacketed and plated bullets were the only selection. Why? The answer hit him immediately. Lead bullets would lead to gun smoke and airborne residue. “Your mom was one smart lady.”
He turned to find Gabriella’s face white and chalky, her eyes filled with horror. “What did you say?”
Luke instantly regretted his comment. He tried to pull her into a hug, but she pushed him away, her face flushing.
“Her whole life was a lie. I’ve been trying to avoid thinking about it, avoid being furious at her, but this...this was the last straw. She put me in this situation, where I have nothing to go on to try to save my aunt. Our own lives are in danger. You’ve been shot.”
She spun away, and her shoulders rose and fell. “I loved my mom dearly and I will miss her every single day, but this...this secret life she had...” Gabriella shook her head. “No. ‘Smart lady’ wasn’t the first thing that came to mind.”
Her whole body trembled as she flung her hand out, gesturing at the room. “Why’d she keep this secret anyway? What harm would it have done if she’d told me? Showed me?”
Luke hung his head. He imagined he’d be offended, too, if in her situation. “You’re right,” he said. “I was speaking as someone who appreciates good construction and design.”
Her rigid stance and clenched jaw softened. “No, you were referring to the recliner and the mini fridge.” She smirked, and he knew that if she was attempting a joke, she’d forgiven him.
“It doesn’t hurt.” His dry mouth and burning throat begged to be relieved. He could still taste the dust particles that refused to leave on their own. “Let’s pray there is something drinkable in there and start looking for that evidence.”
He crossed to the fridge and fought against the temptation to sit in the soft leather. It looked so relaxing. If he succumbed, he knew it would make it almost impossible to get back up. His leg throbbed at the thought of relief.
He gaped at the contents of the fridge and almost verbally complimented her mom’s taste again. “Look, Gabriella. Your favorite.” He held up a cold can of Pibb Xtra.
Her forehead crinkled, but she approached and accepted. The rest of the options were diet, so Luke pulled out a Pibb for himself, as well. “Must have been your mom’s favorite, too, huh?”
She shook her head, popped the can and the beautiful hissing of air and popping fizz filled the space between them. Luke opened his and downed half the can in one smooth gulp. He hit his fist against his chest in hopes of helping the swallowed air escape in a gentlemanlike fashion.
Gabriella gulped down her share and exhaled. “That’s just it.” She shook her head. “Mom only drank diet. This was my favorite drink.” She raised an eyebrow. “I can’t believe you remembered, though.”
He shrugged. “I was an impressionable young man. I remember a lot of things.” His mind filled with all the moments and conversations they’d shared in college. Their eyes met, and the air between them seemed charged with electricity.
He looked down the range so as to keep his mind focused. “So there’s only one explanation for your favorite drink being stocked down here. Your mom must’ve been preparing to share this with you.”
She nodded. “Maybe.”
Luke set his can down on the cabi
net. “If she had shown you this shooting range before, you would’ve picked up on the historic reference in the will right away, right?”
Her eyes widened.
He brushed away an obvious clump of dust he hadn’t seen before on his shirt. “Right. So, humor me and let’s assume she had hoped to show you this place. And in that case, the historic reference to the barn would be an obvious clue, so we’re on the right track.”
Gabriella drew in her eyebrows. “Huh. You might be right.”
Luke put a finger on his lip while his thumb held up his chin, a habitual gesture when he needed to process. So he likely hadn’t been dreaming when Gabriella’s mother mentioned she’d done something with the barn in the diary. And if that was the case, what better place to hide the evidence? He looked around the room. “If it were me, and I needed to keep something safe...” He dropped his hands at the last word. “I’d put it in the gun safe.”
Gabriella curled her lip. “Really?”
He nodded. “Yep.”
They approached the six-foot, hunter-green gun safe. The gold accents lined the edges of the matte finish. In the center a long gold handle resided just underneath a black combination dial. Gabriella’s fingers reached for the dial and stopped.
“What should I try?” she whispered.
“Stick with five- or six-digit combinations that you think would be important to your mom.”
Gabriella bit her lip and spun the dial to the right, then left, then back right.
Her hand drifted to the handle. But it wouldn’t budge. She tried again with the same result.
“Talk me through it,” Luke said.
“I’ve tried her birthday, Aunt Freddie’s birthday...” She growled. “If those were even their real birthdays.” Gabriella pulled her long hair off her back, twirled it around her hand and tucked it back through the space she’d created. Her graceful movements and the resulting ponytail transfixed him, like origami with hair.
Code of Silence Page 11