Moonstone

by Marilee Brothers

  Revelle gave me a cold stare and thought it over. Finally, he shrugged. "Go for it.

  He released my arm. I walked over to Faye, leaned down and put the locket around her neck, prolonging the process by fumbling around with the clasp. It wasn't an act. My hands were still shaking.

  As I bent over Faye, I whispered, "Keep acting scared but get ready. We'll be out of here soon. Okay?

  I straightened up, my body between Faye and the two men. She lifted her head and winked her good eye. I gave her a quick thumbs up.

  "Tie up the girl. I'll get Mama ready," Revelle told Baxter.

  Okay, that comment made my blood run cold. I looked over at Faye. Her face was ashen, but I saw a slight tilt to her chin. She was trying to be strong.

  Baxter said, "Did you check the kid's hand? See if she has the star?

  Revelle gave me a dismissive look. "Doesn't matter. She's nothing without the moonstone.

  Hah, that's what you think, Mister. After my internal gloat, I flashed my palm at Baxter.

  He didn't touch me but his nostrils flared. Whoa! Was that a sign of fear in a Trimark? Apparently not, because he gave me a nasty grin and held up his palm.

  "You showed me yours, so I'll show you mine.

  His palm was huge. The lines were dark and deeply etched, encircling puffy, deep red mounds. I looked for the inverted triangle and found it at the base of his little finger. Poorly formed with jagged, broken lines, the two sides failed to meet at the apex of the point. Clearly, Baxter was not high up in the Trimark chain of command.

  He closed his hand and pointed at the chair. "Sit.

  "Hands front or back?" he asked Revelle, who was bent over Faye. I heard her whimper and barely resisted the urge to kick Baxter in the family jewels.

  "Front's fine," Revelle said. "She's not going anywhere.

  "She's got the star," Baxter said.

  "But not the moonstone," Revelle said.

  He turned, his body still blocking Faye. "You ever see a mama horse with a colt?

  "Huh?' Baxter said, tying my hands together in front of my body.

  "The colt won't leave its mama, not for anything. When it's weaned, it has to be put in a separate pasture, but it still runs up to the fence and cries for her.

  "So?

  Revelle smirked at me. "So, Allie here, is like that baby horse. As long as we've got Mama, she'll stick like glue.

  I'm sticking to you like Elmer's Glue. Faye's words echoed through my mind. I'd heard them all my life. Revelle was right. I wouldn't leave my mother.

  Baxter finished my hands then started on my feet. I studied his sun-speckled shaved head and thick neck. Strong as an ox but dumber than dirt. Revelle, on the other hand, was no fool. If my plan worked, one of them would be my adversary. Brains or brawn?

  Baxter finished tying my feet then lumbered over and stood behind Faye's chair.

  Revelle stepped away from Faye. I looked at what he had done and nearly screamed in horror. Her right hand was duct taped to a small table, fingers splayed apart and immobilized. Her other arm was bound to her body.

  Revelle grinned at me and held up a small tube. "Super glue. Great stuff.

  But what held my attention was the razor-sharp hatchet lying on the table next to her hand. My mouth went dry. I tried to speak but no words came out. Faye turned her face away.

  Revelle said, "Here's the rules. I ask the questions. If I don't like your answer, Faye loses a finger. Got it?

  Unable to speak, I nodded. Revelle stroked his chin thoughtfully then crossed the six feet that separated my chair from Faye's. He leaned over me, close enough to feel his breath which, strangely, felt ice cold. I shuddered, thinking of rattle snakes.

  "You said you'd help me find the moonstone. Does that mean you don't have it?

  I nodded.

  Revelle glanced over at Baxter. He grinned and picked up the hatchet. My heart stopped beating.

  "Be careful, Allie," Revelle said. "Does that mean 'yes,' you don't have it or 'yes,' you know where it is, or 'yes,' you don't know where it is, but you'll help me find it?

  I struggled against the ropes and wailed, "You're confusing me. Make him put the hatchet down, and I'll tell you everything you want to know.

  Revelle gestured to Baxter, who reluctantly set the hatchet down.

  The whole story poured out. Kizzy giving me the moonstone, Junior's involvement, the fake Carmel, the taped conversation. I spoke the truth until we got to the last part. I had no idea where Junior had stashed the moonstone. But I knew how badly Revelle wanted it. I had to make him believe me.

  "It's at Kizzy's house," I blurted.

  Revelle stared at me. I hoped Trimarks couldn't read minds. When I couldn't stand the silence any longer, I said, "You're the ones who beat her up. Right?

  Revelle nodded. "But she'd already given the moonstone to you. I was going to finish her off that day in the hospital but then you walked in, with the moonstone around your neck.

  "She might still wake up," I said.

  "We'll be long gone by then, because you're going to tell me exactly where to find it in Kizzy's house.

  "Yeah, well, it's not exactly in her house.

  Revelle's face turned ugly. "Stop jerking me around, Allie.

  Baxter picked up the hatchet.

  "Okay, okay," I cringed back in my chair. "I'm not jerking you around. You're making me nervous.

  "Last chance," Revelle said. "Tell me exactly where to look.

  Revelle was right. I'd been jerking him around, trying to think of a worthy, fictional hiding place. A time-consuming, fictional hiding place.

  "It's in Kizzy's back yard. In a little glass jar buried under the birdbath.

  Revelle's lip curled in disgust. "How deep?' "About a foot down, and, oh yeah, there're four birdbaths.

  Revelle grabbed my pony tail and yanked. "Which one?

  "Ow! Ow! Let go, and I'll tell you.

  "Which one?" he said through clenched teeth.

  "I ... I think it's the second one. I didn't bury it. Junior did.

  "Want me to pick him up?" Baxter asked.

  I knew Junior could take care of himself. His criminal past had given him a built-in early warning system when it came to danger. A man as dumb as Baxter didn't stand a chance. Revelle shook his head. "I'll check it out first.

  He stared down at me. His eyes were cold and pitiless. "If I don't find it, Baxter gets a call on his cell phone, and Mama loses a finger. Maybe even two. Got it?

  My stomach clenched in fear, but I nodded.

  Before he left, I asked, "The story about Magda stealing from your grandfather ... was any of it true?

  He chuckled. "There's no question Magda used the moonstone to siphon money. The bit about Revelle Investments and my dear old grandfather was a fabrication.

  "Was your real grandfather a Trimark?

  He sneered. "Such a nosy little girl! I suppose you want a look at my hand.

  When I didn't answer, he held out his palm. I saw it. A fully formed inverted triangle at the intersection of the fate line and head line.

  "You know what that mark means, little girl?

  I bit my tongue.

  "It means you can't win, little girl.

  He spun around and headed for the door. I held my breath until I heard the sound of a car driving away. Revelle, of course, would not find the moonstone. But he'd also made a serious miscalculation. He assumed I had no power without the moonstone. I was about to prove him wrong.

  I tried to figure out a time line. Revelle had to drive to Kizzy's house. Five minutes on a good day. On a Sunday, factoring in church traffic, maybe ten. I hoped he would dig under all four bird baths before he made the call to Baxter. But maybe not. The clock was ticking.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  I slumped in my chair and watched Baxter from beneath half-closed eyes. He licked his finger and ran it down the length of the hatchet blade, like he was dying to cut something ... probably one of us. His black eyes darted over t
o me, then back to Faye. I could almost see the wheels turning in his head. No chopping in the immediate future. Might as well squat and drop it.

  He set the hatchet on the table next to Faye's glued-down fingers and retreated to his apple box. It squeaked under his weight as he plopped down and flipped open his cell phone, no doubt waiting for a call that would lead to fun stuff with the hatchet.

  Faye lifted her head and looked at me with her good eye. I gave a slight nod, the unspoken signal for "Get ready!

  I marshaled my strength and looked over at the apple bins stacked behind Baxter. Could I do it? A myriad of doubts nibbled away at my mind like ravenous mice attacking a piece of cheese. What if nothing happened? What if I lost control and unleashed a swirling vortex of death and destruction. What if...

  No! I had no choice. The only other option was to watch my mother lose her fingers, one by one, and possibly bleed to death. Then they would start on me.

  To clear my mind, I imagined a broom sweeping my dark thoughts into a dustpan which, in turn, poured them into a metal box. I visualized a rocket strapped to the metal box and ... Lift off! The box flew deep into outer space and disintegrated into a million pieces.

  Almost immediately, I felt a strong current of power flow into me like liquid mercury. I could see and feel the silvery liquid pour into the core of my being and spread to all parts of my body. My arms. My legs. The quiver I felt clear down to my bones had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the knowledge that I was Allie, the maid who was strong of mind. Allie, who could summon and control the power needed to set us free.

  I focused my newly harnessed energy on the stack of apple bins directly behind Baxter, thinking, Now! Now! In response, the bins jiggled briefly then exploded outward as if flung by a giant hand. With a shout of alarm, Baxter jumped up. His cell phone skittered across the floor. Before he could scramble to safety, an avalanche of apple bins buried him alive. One part of my mind heard his cries for help, the other part watched in horror as one last bin careened off the others and sailed through the air toward Faye.

  "No!" I screamed. "No, stop!

  The heavy wooden bin hovered in the air a scant few inches from Faye's head then crashed to the floor, coming to rest against her chair. I gulped air and offered a brief prayer of thanks. I tried to cover all the deities so I included God, Jesus, the Virgin Mary, Allah and Buddha. I even threw in Zeus, Minerva and Odin.

  Baxter had fallen silent. The only visible body part was an arm. It extended out from under the pile of bins in a puddle of blood, palm up, as if pleading for help.

  I looked over at Faye, pleased to see a bit of color return to her face.

  "Okay, that was step one. How did you like it?

  She nodded once then tilted her head toward the errant bin.

  "Oh yeah," I said. "Little slip-up there. Sorry about that.

  Faye was trying to tell me something. It sounded like, "Ope, ope.

  "Rope?

  She nodded.

  "I'm working it out.

  The hatchet was the obvious choice. But trying to move it with telekinetic power was too risky. No room for error. I could end up slicing more than rope. And that wasn't the only problem. My head was pounding like a jungle drum. Was I running out of juice like a flashlight left on too long?

  Faye's arms and legs were tied to the chair. Mine were not, although a single strand of rope secured my body to the chair. If I could just get to the hatchet...

  I stretched my bound legs out as far as they would go, dug my heels in and pulled. The chair scraped forward a few inches.

  "Yes!" I shouted.

  I looked up at Faye. She nodded her head, urging me on.

  "Hang on! I'll be there soon.

  The six feet separating us looked as vast as an ocean. Unlucky for me, this particular ocean was made of wooden planks with cracks between them. As I scooted forward, the front legs of my chair got stuck in a crack. My heart sank. I couldn't slide forward. I'd have to rock back and forth and hope I wouldn't tip over. If I did, I'd be as helpless as a turtle on its back.

  Beads of sweat popped out on my forehead and dripped off the end of my nose as I shifted my weight back and forth, trying to free the chair legs. At one point, I pushed back too hard and teetered precariously on the back legs, almost tumbling over backward. Faye made a frightened sound deep in her throat. As the chair started forward, I lunged with all my strength, almost crying with relief when the front legs landed ahead of the crack.

  I began inching forward again, picking up speed after I figured out how to hop the front legs of the chair over the cracks. The back legs weren't a problem since I could shift my weight forward and pull them free.

  I had no idea how much time had elapsed. Five minutes? Twenty? Desperate to get to Faye, I scrunched, scraped, rocked and hopped my chair to the table where the hatchet was lying on the table.

  Shaking with fatigue and sick to my stomach from the relentless pain hammering the back of my skull, I reached out with my bound arms, grasped the handle of the hatchet and wedged it between my knees, blade up. I rubbed the rope binding my wrists against the razor sharp blade. In a few seconds, I was free.

  Using the hatchet, I cut the rope binding my feet then reached over to Faye.

  "Sorry, this is going to hurt.

  I ripped the duct tape from her mouth. After a yelp of pain, she said, "Hurry! Cut me loose so we can get out of this place.

  I cut through the ropes and removed the duct tape binding her hand to the table top. Faye tried to jerk her fingers free. They were stuck tight. Her eyes rolled in panic.

  "Look for a solvent. A gas can. Anything. Hurry!

  I dropped the hatchet into the bin next to Faye and ran to the table by the door. Frantically, I pawed through the mess on the table. Paint cans and insect spray tumbled to the floor. Nothing! I'd have to try insecticide and hope it wouldn't poison us both. I leaned over to pick up a spray bottle and spotted a square metal can lying on its side under the table. I pounced on it.

  "Paint stripper!" I cried.

  I ran to Faye, averting my eyes from the bloody arm sticking out from under the pile of bins. I tried to twist off the cap. Corroded and rusty, it wouldn't budge.

  "The hatchet," Faye gasped. "Chop it open. Hurry!

  I retrieved the hatchet, punctured the can and poured the spurting liquid on Faye's hand. A split second later, three things happened simultaneously. An anguished howl rose from beneath the bins, a hand like a steel trap closed around my ankle and Baxter's cell phone rang.

  No! This couldn't be happening! Faye, glued to a table. Me, held prisoner by a man who was supposed to be dead. Revelle, calling Baxter's cell phone, furious because he couldn't find the moonstone.

  "Oh my God," Faye screamed, desperately trying to loosen her fingers. "Do that thing with your mind, like you did with the apple bins. Make him let go.

  It should have been a piece of cake. Right? Concentrate on Baxter's hand. Make it relax and loosen its grip. I'd pull free and off we'd go, away from this hellhole with cracks in the floor, pools of blood and sharp implements.

  Lack of motivation was not the problem. I tried with everything I had, grunting with effort. Turn me loose! Now! Over and over. It didn't work. My strength was gone, my power sapped. I kicked and stomped the brutal hand holding me fast, to no avail. I was growing weaker by the moment. My head pounded and starbursts fired in my field of vision as blackness closed in.

  Baxter's phone had stopped ringing, which meant Revelle was on his way back to kill us. Faye was our only chance of survival.

  "Faye," I called weakly. "I can't do it. It's up to you.

  Faye lifted her gaze to mine, her eyes fierce with determination. I willed what little strength I had left to my mother.

  "You have to get your hand loose. You can do it. Keep looking in my eyes.

  "No pain, no gain," she said with a shaky grin.

  She braced her left hand against the table top and jerked free with a yelp of
pain.

  "Get Baxter's phone!" I said. "Call 911. Then call Junior. Tell him to bring the moonstone.

  I rattled off Junior's number. Faye spoke into the phone and tucked it into her pocket.

  "Bring me the hatchet.

  The thought of what I had to do next made me nauseous.

  Faye ran to me, the hatchet clutched in her hand. Her face was pale but she took a deep, shuddering breath and said, "I'll do it.

  "No!" I grabbed the hatchet and screamed, "You need to go! Now! Not down the driveway, through the orchard. Go left when you hit the road. Revelle will be coming from the other direction. Flag down a car.

  I paused, breathing hard.

  Faye's eyes brimmed with tears. "I'm not leaving you.

  "It's okay, I'll be right behind you. Now, go!

  "Not without you!

  I tried to think of the worst thing I could say to her.

  "If you don't leave right now, I'll call Cynthia and what'sher-name at Child Services and tell them I want to live with Grandpa Claude.

  Even though my statement made no sense in our present situation, it had the emotional impact I hoped for.

  Faye's eyes widened in shock then narrowed into slits. "You wouldn't dare!

  "Oh, yeah? Wanna wait around and find out?

  After one last furious glare, she turned and took off like she had afterburners hooked to her fanny.

  I sank down to the floor, a feeling of peace stealing over me. Faye was safe. She might even bring help. Somehow, it didn't matter. Whatever happened next was meant to be. I was tired. So tired.

  Just grab the hatchet, Allie. Raise it high and bring it down on Baxter's wrist and you'll be free.

  I wrapped my fingers around the handle and tried to lift it. My arm shook under its weight and the hatchet slipped from my hand. I knew Revelle was on his way. How much time did I have? Five minutes? Ten? A wave of dizziness swept over me, and time stood still.

  My senses returned when I heard a shuddering gasp coming from beneath the bins. Baxter's grip loosened. I pulled free, staggered toward the open door and collided with a violently angry Chris Revelle. Stark terror swept away my lethargy, and I backpedaled quickly. He was on me in a flash.

  Revelle grabbed my left arm and screamed, "Lying bitch!" followed by a bunch of names I hoped I'd never hear again. His right arm whipped across my face in a vicious backhand. My head snapped back and I tasted blood. He doubled up his fist and drew it back. Sobbing, I lifted my right arm in an effort to deflect the blow.