“You think I killed thothe women, but I didn’t.”
“Great, another of Obadiah Hale’s sons is a wrongfully accused innocent man.”
“My father wath an evil man.”
That declaration confirmed what Rainey suspected. This whole thing was a family affair—a very sick family lacking in genetic diversity. The cleft palate was a clue to consanguinity in the bloodline. The fact that he was wielding a gun, trying to set off a bomb, and possibly a serial killer fell right in with family norms.
“I agree with you, based on what Chance has told me, but he also spawned at least two serial killers. Joshua is dead. That leaves you, Robby, and Chance. My money is on you, right now.”
“He didn’t kill them,” a female voice joined the conversation.
“GRrrrrrr.” A low growl rumbled through the grotto.
“Sich beruhigen. Es ist alles in Ordnung.” The female voice comforted the lion in what Rainey recognized as German. From her very shaky remembrance of university language classes and a couple of trips overseas, she was pretty sure the lion was told to calm itself. The female addition to the conversation gave Rainey pause, but the lion’s contribution reminded her there was more than one predator around the corner.
“If he didn’t kill anyone, then he should put down the weapon and let me help him,” Rainey said.
“You can’t run any farther, Eugene. There is no other way out of here except those stairs. Let her help you.”
Eugene answered, “We’re going to die anyway.”
“No one needs to die. We can end all of this right now. Just put down the weapon and slide it on the floor toward me. I’m not here to kill people. Despite what people have said about me, I don’t like doing that sort of thing, really.”
“He isn’t talking about you. It’s Naamah. He only does what she says so he can keep me alive.”
“Keep me,” Rainey thought. Did the voice belong to a captive? It wasn’t Ann. Not unless she was masking her raspy delivery. It wasn’t Jean either, from what Rainey remembered of their brief interaction. One thing had been hard to miss there in the Border Patrol office. That accent was unmistakable. The speaker in the grotto had no telltale Piedmont non-rhotic accent, where the “r” was dropped at the end of words. This person said “farther” with a strong “r.” Jean would have said, “fathuh” instead.
Rainey asked the female, “What is your name?”
“Eve.”
There was no one named Eve in the catalogue of victims in the Hale cases. Then again, Rainey only knew of three victims who had survived an encounter with one or more of the Hale men, Emily Dawson, Tammy Lynn Gaskill, and Donna Travis.
“Don’t talk to her,” Eugene said. “Get back away from there. Do it, or Naamah will punith all of uth. Juth wait. Naamah ith coming.”
“Eve, my name is Rainey Bell. No matter what he’s threatened you with or has told you will happen if you escape, none of it is true. You have to trust me. I can get you out of here. Just come to me. The door is open. We can walk out of here together. I promise you, I will keep you safe.”
Eve didn’t answer.
Eugene’s weak plea of, “Don’t lithen,” and his labored breathing, when he said, “Can’t help uth now,” indicated his condition worsened quickly.
“Listen to him, Eve. He’s fading fast. He’s not going to make it if he doesn’t get help soon. I can get that for him, but you have to come with me.”
Waiting for Eve’s answer took only seconds, but in the silence of the moment, it felt as if everything slowed and the sounds amplified. Rainwater dripped on cement somewhere. A big cat panted. A man groaned. Her own heart raced against the time that crept by until she heard Eve make a request.
“Open the door, Eugene. Let me out.”
Eugene sobbed. His near whisper of, “I’m dyin’, Eve,” faded with the saying of her name.
“You have to help. Come quick. Let me out.”
Eve began her desperate cries, punctuated with what sounded like the rattling of a jail cell door. Familiar with the noise and knowing it meant Eve was locked behind bars; Rainey took a step and then stopped.
“How do I know you aren’t lying and he isn’t sitting there ready to shoot me when I gullibly come around that corner?”
“Please, help us. She’ll kill us all.”
Rainey leaned hard against the wall and weighed her options. Katie would be really pissed if she were killed for being a dumbass. After only a moment, Rainey bet on Eve’s honesty with no more evidence for her belief than a gut feeling.
She called out, “Okay, I’m coming, but if someone takes a shot at me, you won’t have to worry about anyone else coming down here to do you in. I’ll do it myself.”
“Please, please hurry,” Eve begged.
Rainey whispered a reminder to herself, “Clear the corners and locate your targets.”
She knelt and took a peek, exposing her head as far as she dared, but at a different level than a prospective shooter might anticipate. She gathered as much information as possible in the snapshot of time she was willing to remain visible.
The stairs led into an open space about twenty feet wide. The faux rock grotto wall continued on the left side to a corner where a bare hanging bulb glowed amber with age. About thirty feet away, against the far rock wall, a large white chest freezer stood next to a sparkling clean stainless steel prep station and sink, which sat under a wall-mounted display of shiny cleavers and knives on a long magnetic strip. Near the sink, an old, white-porcelain, six-burner stove gleamed from its apparent frequent polishing. Large heavyweight stockpots were stacked on restaurant style metal shelves beside it.
“It just get’s better,” Rainey whispered, her back against the stairway wall again.
“That looks like a cannibal’s lair, for sure. A clean one, but still creepy as hell,” she said to Eve.
“It’s just where I prepare the food for myself and Sarabi.”
“I assume Sarabi is the source of the roars I heard,” Rainey said. “I have watched The Lion King at least once a month for the last two years. One of my sons is obsessed with music and lions. It’s the perfect combination for him. Simba’s mother, Sarabi, right?”
While she talked, Rainey took another extended look. Following the rock wall around, she saw the bars of three cells on her right. Eugene sat slumped on a bale of hay where the far wall met the last set of bars and next to the stockpot shelves. If he didn’t receive help soon, Rainey knew he would die, something she’d rather not happen. She wanted him alive to answer for his crimes and give multiple families closure.
On the wall above Eugene’s head, an ankus hung beside the smashed skull of what Rainey suspected was Geordie, the lion OB killed with it. The skull included the broken lower jaw Chance said OB kept on his mantel. A lion pelt covered the floor at Eugene’s feet. Those three things were physical evidence proving that house didn’t go up accidently. OB would not have allowed the objects to be removed voluntarily. He was probably dead before the house exploded.
“Yes, Simba’s mother, now hurry.” Eve appealed to Rainey from the hidden area of the grotto. “You can’t let him die. She’ll kill my family. I swear she’ll kill us all.”
Rainey couldn’t see Eve or much of the cell she occupied without stepping into full view of its occupant. Twenty-three years ago, on the day of her graduation from the FBI Academy, Billy Bell’s advice to Rainey had been, “Okay, Rainey Blue, don’t get dead.” Those words echoed in her head before she gave a silent nod to her father’s memory and turned the corner.
“Grraawwrr.”
Rainey jumped back as a female lion leaped at the bars separating them.
“Sarabi, platz! Fuss, Sarabi. Hier!”
The lioness obeyed, “Sarabi down! Heel, Sarabi. Come!” which Rainey recognized as German training commands. They were common in security guard and K-9 training. Eve also asked Sarabi to “Zwinger bis,” as Rainey understood it, “Kennel up.” Eve opened a steel door between
her cell and the next. The lioness moved into the middle cell, and the door closed behind her. Sarabi now had access to the other two cells but was closed off from the first. Once the lion had been secured, Eve approached the bars to stand in front of Rainey.
“That’s impressive command of a wild animal without show of force,” Rainey said to the woman on the other side of the bars.
Eve explained, “We have been together all her life. She trusts me. That is the only reason she does as I say.”
Finally getting a look at Eve, Rainey saw a blonde, slim but not emaciated, and probably in her mid to late twenties. The cell she occupied appeared as if a tiny home had two walls replaced with bars—the one with the door and the one between it and the middle cell. The other two walls were of the same faux stone concrete design as the rest of the structure. The back wall of Eve’s cell contained a small door like the one Rainey saw from the outside, allowing access to the outdoor area of the grotto. A twin bed sat on a frame with built-in storage drawers underneath. Walls not taken up by the small kitchenette and what appeared to be a curtained off bathroom area were covered in bookshelves. The entire place was spotless. This woman had been here a very long time.
Eve appealed to Rainey, “Please hurry. See the handle on the wall there. Pull the closest one to you. It’s old, so pull hard.”
“What does it do? You’re not tricking me into opening the cell with the lion in it are you?”
“No, it opens my cell door. Hurry. I don’t think Eugene is breathing anymore.”
Rainey kept the Glock in her right hand, an eye on Eugene in case he was faking, and reached for the big metal handle with her left hand. There was no budging the handle that way. It was going to take both hands to make it move.
“Eve, may I see both of your hands on the bars, please. I have a spouse and kids. They would not want me to die because I trusted you and shouldn’t have.”
“You know you’re really paranoid.”
“Ass-hat over there was shooting at me and planted a bomb on a tiny house in which he locked my best friend’s fiancé and my wife. Forgive me, if I’m as you say ‘paranoid,’ but Eugene is trying to kill me and the people I care about.”
Eve looked confused. “You’re married to a woman?”
“Yes,” Rainey replied. Thinking it was not the time to discuss same sex marriage, she reiterated, “Hands please.”
Eve’s eyes widened. “Wow. I’ve missed a lot, I think,” and then slipped her fingers around the bars in front of her with no further discussion.
Rainey took another glance at Eugene. She could see both of his hands, but not the weapon she knew he had. With no other choice, Rainey holstered her Glock, wrapped both hands around the handle, and pulled hard. Eve’s cell door let out a long screeching creak as it opened one ear-piercing inch at a time. Rainey noted that Eugene didn’t move, which meant he was either dead or unconscious.
“Holy cow,” Rainey complained. “Don’t you people have any oil around here?”
Eve answered with the matter-of-fact tone of someone resigned to fate. “It’s just another level of security. How could I leave unannounced?” She pointed at the top shelf in the corner of her cell. “Baby monitor. I can’t breathe without someone hearing me.”
Rainey had not seen the monitor. Aware now that they were under surveillance and her presence surely known by the monitoring entity, the need to get out of the grotto became more pressing.
Once the door to the cell opened, Eve gave Rainey little time to mull over the thought that she seemed familiar, as she pushed past her to go to Eugene. Rainey ran after Eve, arriving at her heels in time to see the revolver on the shelf over Eugene’s head.
The lioness mirrored Rainey’s movements on the other side of the bars, a low rumbling coming from its chest as it ran beside her. Rainey made eye contact with Sarabi, as she reached to secure Eugene’s weapon. Representing the element of the brain to which fight or flight are the only choices, the lizard in her head reacted instinctively out of some ancient knowing, curled up in a ball, and played dead.
Rainey ignored the cowardly lizard’s suggestion and remained standing, but made a cautious observation, “She’s much bigger when you’re this close.”
Noise at the top of the stairs drew Sarabi’s attention from Rainey. It also spun Rainey around and turned Eve’s head.
“Well, well, well. Look what the cat drug in.”
A unique and recognizably raspy voice accompanied the black leather boots Rainey could see descending the stairs.
“Don’t shoot. You don’t want me to push this little button and blow this grotto sky high. Your friends are still trying to disarm the IED on the tiny house. Oh, and I found the jammer remote in the garage when I rushed in to offer help after hearing the car crash into the building.” She put on her fake personality, “Oh, dear God. What’s happened? Hart? Oh, that can’t be. Yes, I’ll go call the police.” The performance finished just as the woman came into view. Pleased with her reenactment and smiling at Rainey, she added, “I am so golden no matter what happens now.”
Eve whispered low, “Naamah.”
“Raarwwr. Hissssss.” Sarabi reacted with unambiguous fear and loathing as the whip cracked in the air. “Raarwwrrr,” the lioness warned, but backed away into the farthest corner of the cells as the woman appeared.
The sunglasses and scarf were gone, but Rainey recognized the voice of the person who stood at the bottom of the steps, a cell phone in one hand and a whip in the other.
“Ann? You’re Naamah?” Rainey said astounded. “You’re too young to be Eugene’s mother.”
“Correct, I am not his mother. I am Chance’s mother. I am Eugene’s sister. That cleft palate, an endearing trait of the inbred, made it hard to say ’Naomi’ when he was young. I became Naamah to him forever, even after surgery corrected most of his pronunciation issues. Still has the damn lisp though, or had. Is he dead?”
“No, not yet,” Rainey said, and then commented, “Naamah was a descendent of Cain who killed his brother, so I’m assuming the renaming was prophetic. You’re not quite the Naomi from the good book either, that’s for sure.”
“Katie said you were smart and amusingly irreverent. I think that’s the term she used.”
“Naamah, huh. I thought Eugene was calling for his Momma. Is it okay if I just call you Ann?”
“Sure, you can call me whatever you like. As for Jean, we did away with her years ago. But before I explain, I need you to slide that revolver over here.”
Rainey knelt to place Eugene’s pistol on the floor, praying Ann would think it was the only one and not ask for the Glock.
“I’m going to need that weapon in your shoulder holster too. I understand you never leave home without it. Katie is a lovely woman, by the way.”
“She is, and too trusting as well,” Rainey said, while reluctantly placing her weapon next to Eugene’s and then sliding them one by one to a spot a few feet in front of Ann.
Ann’s hands were full. She kicked the two pistols into the middle cell, as she said, “This is true, but aren’t most victims?”
“I haven’t heard an explosion, so she’s not your victim yet. I have faith in Captain Augustine that she can disarm the device,” Rainey said. She would talk to this woman for as long as it took to figure out how to get out of this mess.
“Eve, slide Eugene’s phone to me,” Ann demanded.
Eve did as she was told, digging Eugene’s phone out of the chest pocket of his flannel shirt. Rainey saw that the bullet went through the phone, shattering the screen and silencing the phone forever.
Eve slid the phone over to Ann, who reacted with, “Dammit! Eugene, you can never do anything right.”
“Oh, that was me. Sorry about that. Bad aim. I was trying for center mass. But to my credit, Eugene was running,” Rainey said, and then prodded Ann, “You were saying about his mother.”
“Oh, you’re cute. A smartass, but funny. I can see why Katie likes you so much. Now, abou
t that body in the freezer in North Dakota, the one the police are having trouble sorting out, that’s her. Did you know she was my mother and that she gave me to Obadiah when I was a child to do with as he pleased, just like her mother before her?”
“Jean was your mother too?”
“She was also Obadiah’s child. He brought her mother, my grandmother, Gerda Löwenherz Burke, back from Germany after the war. She was found floating in the Eno when Jean was thirteen, a tragic accident they say. Jean had me when she was fourteen. Figure it out, profiler. What do you think happened?”
“Oh, wow. This family is more inbred than anything going on in ‘Deliverance.’ So, how did she get the name Berry? Who did she marry and what happened to him? “
“His name was Randy Berry. He owned the piece of land the garages sit on now. Obadiah wanted it. Randy inherited the property from his parents, Eugene and Cora Berry. My mother seduced Randy when she was already pregnant with little Eugene there, convinced him it was his child, and married him. He drowned in the Eno River at Sennett’s Hole, supposedly diving for treasure in a sunken mill.”
“Do you believe that story?”
“Old Jean took her secrets to the grave with her. She went to clean out the house in Pembina after I blew up Obadiah and the rest of the clan. She took Eugene and me with her. She didn’t have a clue that I had caused the house explosion and that I blew up the garage with Joshua in it. Sorry about the agent. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Supposed to or not, I don’t think it mattered to his family,” Rainey said.
Eve interrupted. “Since he’s your brother or whatever, do you mind if I help Eugene? He appears to be dying.”
Rainey caught the attitude in Eve’s tone. She cared for Eugene, but Naomi/Naamah/Ann was reviled.
“Watch how you speak to me, Eve. Eugene can’t protect you now.”
The whip snapped, the lion growled and hissed, but Eve stood her ground.
“I’ll not cower to you anymore. So lash me if you choose. I’m going to help him.”
Rainey with a Chance of Hale (A Rainey Bell Thriller Book 6) Page 19