by Jana DeLeon
Olivia abandoned her search and came to stand behind him. “Go for it.”
He pressed the spot and the entire bookcase slid back from the wall. “Jackpot.”
There was an opening on one side of the gap and a solid wall on the other. The opening was narrow, maybe two feet wide, and John glanced over at Olivia. “It looks pretty tight. Maybe you should stay here.”
Olivia looked at the opening and frowned. “No. I’d rather be trapped in there with you than kidnapped and trapped in a room alone.”
“Okay.” John stuck the lantern into the opening and took one step inside. “I can only see about five feet in front of us, but there’s not an end yet.” He inched several feet down the narrow passage, then glanced back to check on Olivia. She was only inches from him and her face was drawn, but her breathing seemed normal.
He continued another couple of feet. “I think I see an end,” he said and continued to push forward until he came to a dead end. Holding the lantern up to the wall in front of him, he scanned the surface for any of those poisonous kind of creatures Olivia had warned him about, then placed his hand on the wall and began to search for a way to open it.
Olivia placed one hand on his arm and whispered, “Did you hear that?”
He stopped his search and glanced back at her. “Hear what?”
“I thought I heard voices.”
He went still and listened, but only the faint sound of Olivia’s breathing reached his ears. He was just about to chalk it up to stress and her imagination when he heard a noise, faint and muffled, but it could be human. He turned his head slowly in each direction, trying to determine the direction of the sound.
“I think it’s coming from there,” Olivia said and pointed to the wall in front of him.
He pressed the side of his head against the wall, hoping to hear better, and the noise grew a little louder. It was someone screaming—someone female. His pulse began to race, and he ran his hands over the wall, searching for the way to open it. Olivia stretched her arm around his side and searched the side wall of the tunnel.
“Got it,” she cried and the wall in front of him began to slide back.
He passed her the lantern with one hand and pulled his pistol from his waistband with the other, then stepped through the opening, Olivia right behind him. The light from the lantern spread through the tiny room, illuminating his sister and an old man tied to chairs in the center of the room.
Rachel stopped screaming the instant they stepped into the room and closed her eyes, probably because of the light. “Rachel,” John said and rushed over to her, overwhelming relief passing over him at seeing his sister alive.
“John? Oh, my God, John, is that you?” She opened her eyes, blinking rapidly, then started crying. “I can’t believe you found me.”
John crouched down next to her and directed Olivia to check out the man tied to the next chair, who appeared to be unconscious. “Are you hurt?” He scanned her for injuries, but couldn’t see anything obvious.
“No,” Rachel replied. “I’m cold and hungry and scared to death, but he didn’t hurt us.”
A second wave of relief flooded through John and he placed his hands on his sister’s cheeks and kissed her forehead. “Thank God.”
His sister looked over at the man in the other chair. “I’m worried about Aubrey, though. He’s been out for a while. I’ve been calling to him, but I haven’t been able to wake him up.”
John looked over at Olivia, who had her fingers on the man’s neck. “Thank God, he’s got a pulse,” Olivia said, “but he needs medical care. He’s probably dehydrated and who knows what else.”
John moved behind Rachel’s chair and tugged at the ropes that bound her wrists, and indicated that Olivia should do the same. “He must be the caretaker.”
“That’s what he told me,” Rachel said.
“Who put you here? Did you see him?”
“I saw him when he caught me in the house, but he’s always worn a mask since then.”
John glanced over at Olivia who frowned, understanding the implication. “That means the man is someone Aubrey would recognize.” John pulled the last knot out of the rope and removed it from Rachel’s wrists.
“He’s crazy, I know that.” Rachel pulled her arms in front of her and rubbed her wrists, then rose slowly, her legs still a bit shaky. “He put a gun to my head and told me to tell him where the emeralds are. I couldn’t convince him that I had no idea what he was talking about. So he said he was going to keep me locked in here until I talked.”
Olivia pulled the ropes from Aubrey’s wrists and looked over at John. “We were right. He’s after the emeralds.”
“You were right,” John pointed out.
Aubrey stirred and Olivia moved around to the front of the chair to check on him. “Aubrey, can you hear me?”
“The prophecy,” Aubrey said. He opened his eyes a bit and squinted at Olivia. “Marilyn? It’s true. You returned for the jewels.”
“I’m not Marilyn, but I’m here to help. Do you know who tied you up?”
Aubrey nodded. “He thought if he wore a mask I wouldn’t know, but I’ve always known. Knew who he was the first time I saw him. Knew he’d be after the jewels. It was written, you know?”
John heard Olivia suck in a breath and he stared at Aubrey, waiting for an answer. Waiting for any reason to make sense out of this mess.
“It’s that attorney,” Aubrey said.
Olivia’s eyes widened and she stared at Aubrey. “Wheeler? Ross Wheeler is the one responsible for all this?”
“Wheeler may be what he calls himself, but I know what he is. He’s the devil spawn of Franklin Borque is what he is. Been trying for years to get control of this property, but he can’t until those emeralds is found. I’ve been here a long time. My people were here many years before me.”
Olivia stared at him. “Aubrey, were you related to Sissy?”
Aubrey nodded. “She was my great-grandmother. I got her journals. Know all about the evil man that built this house.”
“I think we better get out of here,” John said. If Wheeler returned, they were in a bad position trying to move two weak people, one of them considerably old, through the tunnels.
“Can you walk?” Olivia asked Aubrey. She placed one hand under his arm to help lift and steady him. It took a bit to get him upright, and he was still shaky, but maybe he had enough in him to get out of the passages. If they could make it to the basement, John would gladly carry the man all the way to Cypriere if necessary.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Damn straight,” Aubrey said. “Let’s get the hell out of here before that evil comes back. He won’t let us out of here alive...not without them emeralds.”
The old man hurried into the passage at a faster clip than John would have thought possible. John motioned to Olivia to follow. She pulled her pistol from her waistband and slipped into the tunnel behind Aubrey. Rachel followed Olivia and John entered the passage behind them, his mind whirling with all the possible outcomes and mentally trying to prepare a counterattack for the bad ones.
They made it down the passage to the narrow entry into the library. Aubrey passed through the bookcase opening with Olivia close behind, then Olivia screamed and John’s blood ran cold. He squeezed by Rachel, who’d frozen in place in the tunnel, and he burst through the narrow opening into the library.
Wheeler stood at the other end of the room, clutching Olivia’s arm with one hand and holding a gun to her head with the other. Aubrey was crumpled in the corner, no sign of life coming from him. “Put your gun on the table and slide it over to me,” Wheeler said.
John hesitated, calculating his odds. He was a crack shot, but Wheeler had Olivia positioned in front of his body. Even if the shot hit its mark, Wheeler could still squeeze the trigger bef
ore dropping, and if John was off, even a half an inch...it was too risky. He gritted his teeth and placed his pistol on the table.
“Slide it this way,” Wheeler repeated.
John pushed the pistol across the table and it stopped a few feet in front of Wheeler. The attorney pushed Olivia toward the table. Olivia’s eyes flashed from the table to John and he knew she wanted to make a leap for the weapon, but he barely shook his head, warning her not to try. She wasn’t trained for such a move and the possibility of it ending badly was high.
Wheeler reached around her and grabbed the gun, then tucked it into the back waistband of his jeans. “I hope you’ll excuse me,” he said, “but Olivia and I have some unfinished business to attend to.”
He smiled and John felt his blood run cold. Olivia was right. He was mad.
John clenched his fists and watched helplessly as Wheeler backed out of the library and into the passageway and then the wall slid silently shut behind him. He yelled for Rachel to come out of the passage and rushed over to the wall. He located the switch but the wall gave one small tremor and held in place.
“Why won’t it move?” Rachel asked, her voice cracking with fear.
“He must have jammed something in it on the other side.” John reached for the sledgehammer that still stood propped in the corner. “But he forgot to take my backup plan. Check on Aubrey.”
He drew the hammer back over his shoulder and swung it as hard as he could into the wall. Brick and mortar splintered and flew in every direction. Before the final piece hit the floor, he drew the hammer back and hit the wall again. The wall crumbled on the third blow.
Rachel was kneeling beside Aubrey with her fingers on his neck. “He’s got a pulse and he’s breathing, but it’s shallow.”
“He needs a doctor. He’s too weak. We’re going to have to leave him here for now. There’s no other way.” He stepped into the passage and motioned for Rachel to follow him. When she stepped into the passage, he gripped her shoulders with both hands. “I need you to follow this passage out of here and into the basement. I’ll prop the passage door open with something so you won’t have to find the switch. Take the basement stairs up to the kitchen and leave the house by the back door, then run as fast as you can to the iron gate. That part of the lawn can only be seen from the kitchen windows, so you should be able to get away without being seen. Get back to Cypriere as fast as you can and get help.”
Rachel’s eyes widened. “I’m not going to leave you here.”
“Yes, you are. You can’t help me here and if things go wrong, someone has got to know what happened. Make sure they send a medic of some sort.”
He drew his backup pistol from his ankle holster and ran down the passageway as fast as the narrow space allowed. Ross Wheeler had just made a fatal error.
Chapter Seventeen
Wheeler closed the door to the basement and locked it behind them. The butt of his gun pressed into the small of her back, removing any thoughts she may have had about running. Not that it would make a difference. If she couldn’t give Wheeler the emeralds, and she couldn’t, the end was likely all going to play out the same.
“I can’t help you,” she said as he pushed her through the sitting room into the front entry.
“You’re the one,” he said. “I’m sure of it. You’re the one who will fulfill the prophecy. I’ve been waiting for you a long, long time and I’ve been very patient, but my patience has run out.”
He shoved Olivia into the front entry and spun her around to face him. “Now, show me where the emeralds are.”
“I swear I don’t know,” Olivia pleaded. “I’d never even heard of a prophecy or emeralds until I read those journals last night. Why can’t you believe that?”
“I thought the other girl was the one, but then you came. I hid her away, just in case I was wrong, but when I set eyes on you, I knew. You’re her descendant, the one who is supposed to break the curse and return the emeralds to their rightful owner.”
“And what makes you think that’s you?”
Wheeler smiled. “Unlike you, with your pathetic beginnings, I know my family. I am a direct descendant of Franklin Borque and his mistress—the woman who helped him steal the statue. Make no mistake. Those emeralds are rightfully mine.”
“If you’re the rightful heir, why can’t you find them yourself?”
Wheeler frowned. “Because I didn’t come from that whore, Marilyn. She’s the one who cursed the stones and hid them. Only her descendant can break the curse.”
“Marilyn didn’t have children. I can’t be a descendant of her.”
Wheeler’s face flushed red. “She had one child...a bastard. You came from him.”
His words struck Olivia like a lightning strike. Could Marilyn have had a baby by her lover? If so, what had happened to the child?
“You’re lying,” Olivia said. “Marilyn Borque didn’t have any children. I read her journals and she never mentioned him at all.”
“Oh, she had one child—a bastard—conceived when Franklin was off fighting for this country. Fighting for despicable people like Marilyn.”
“A bastard...like you?”
Wheeler lifted his hand and slapped Olivia across the face. “My great-grandmother should have been Franklin’s wife. If he hadn’t been forced to marry that pig, everything would have been different.”
Olivia ran her tongue across her lips and tasted blood. “Nothing you say changes anything. I...I still don’t know where the emeralds are,” Olivia said, her hopes fading as she looked at the madman in front of her. She had no doubt he’d kill her if she didn’t produce the stones, and that was something she simply couldn’t do.
“If you know so much about me,” she continued, “then you already know that I don’t know anything about my family. I don’t care about the emeralds, and would gladly give them to you, but I don’t know where they are.”
Wheeler studied her face; his eyes narrowed. After several seconds, his expression turned to one of disbelief. “That can’t be. It was written that you would come and the stones would be revealed to you—the descendant of Marilyn Borque.”
“What if there’s another descendant? Maybe my being here is a coincidence. Granted, it would be the worst coincidence in the world, but maybe someone else is supposed to fulfill the prophecy.”
Wheeler shook his head. “There’s no way you coming here was chance. It’s you. It has to be you, and you’d better figure it out, quickly. My patience is going, and I don’t think I have to tell you what will happen to you and your friends if you don’t produce the stones.”
Olivia’s pulse raced, her heart beating so hard in her head that she could barely think. She had to stall him, convince him she was looking for the stones. Maybe he’d make a mistake. Give her an opportunity to make a run for it as soon as she figured out which way to run. She was at a complete disadvantage in both the house and the surrounding swamp. Her only hope would be making it to those cabins and finding help.
She glanced out the front window at the raging storm, knowing that she had to convince Wheeler that the emeralds were outside. But where? The creative mind that had rewarded her so well in her books seemed to have disappeared, and she was left with nothing plausible.
“You’re not going to find anything standing in the entry,” Wheeler said. “Let’s start in the library. You set up your office in there. Maybe the room was calling to you.”
Not the library. Olivia’s plans began to fall apart. The library was centrally located in the house. There was no way she could make it down the hall and out the door without him shooting her.
“Now!” Wheeler leveled the gun at her head.
Olivia took a deep breath and walked down the hall toward the library. Maybe she could figure out a way to stall him. She wanted to hope that John could figure a way out
of the underground room, but Wheeler had jammed the door behind them. Even if he found another way out, it might take hours to find a way back into the main house.
And hours was something Olivia was certain she didn’t have.
* * *
JOHN WATCHED OUT the kitchen window as Rachel ran into the woods toward the gate. The sky was dark and the rain came down so hard that he could barely see her cross the lawn. He prayed she didn’t run into problems in the storm or on the road. They were probably going to need that medical team far more than he’d stressed to her.
He edged along the wall and looked into the sitting room, but there was no sign of Wheeler or Olivia. The faint sound of voices trickled behind him and he eased over to the hallway exit. He stopped just short of the doorway and held his breath, listening for a clue as to where they were.
Wheeler’s voice sounded...louder this time and John could hear the anger and frustration in his tone. He felt a tightness in his chest as he thought about Olivia, in the hands of that madman and with no way to give him what he wanted. He’d thought he didn’t want the responsibility of another woman, but when faced with losing her forever he knew it was too late. He’d lost his heart to Olivia Markham, and damned if he was going to lose her now.
He peered around the corner and slowly let out his breath when he saw the hallway was clear. Three rooms had entries off the hallway before the hallway reached the entry and four more rooms beyond that. The voices were too faint to be in the first set of rooms, so they must be in one of the rooms past the front entry. The library. That had to be it.
He left the doorway and slipped through the sitting room into the entry. That got him halfway to the library without having to use the hallway. At the edge of the hallway, he stopped and listened. He’d been right. The voices were louder now and came from the left side of the hallway.
He slipped around the opening into the hallway and crept toward the library, with no idea of what to do once he got there. Exposing himself was risky without knowing where Wheeler and Olivia stood in the room. If John tried to peek into the library, Wheeler might see him straight off and that would give the attorney an opportunity to grab Olivia. If he jumped straight into the doorway, guns blazing, and Wheeler was already positioned behind Olivia, he could use her as a shield as he did in the underground room.