They walked the dirt road some distance, moving very slowly, allowing their eyes to adjust to the darkness. Fawn’s father led the way. Crickets trilled and bullfrogs croaked an a cappella melody. The night remained as warm as the day, and soon they were both perspiring.
Fawn could smell her efforts over the last 24 hours; dirt from the cemetery the night before had meshed with the stench of dried river water in her clothing.
Her father switched his flashlight on, satisfied they were far enough inside not to draw attention. Fawn did the same.
The hard dirt road was a single lane wide. To their left, the tree-covered land ramped up. They reached a clearing: a circular dirt drive that doubled as a parking area. Juan Cortez used the flashlight to point in the direction of the path. “The main paths up the shell mound start at the parking area in back. If your story about Osceola is accurate, and the iron container washed up against the mound, it will be on the side facing the water. If someone is here, they would have scaled the mound from that far side. Going in this way should afford us the element of surprise.”
With the flashlight beam low, her father led them up the incline, weaving between trees, following the snaking path.
Fawn was beginning to feel somewhat foolish. There had been no other vehicles, save for those at the campground. There appeared to be nothing in these woods except for loud insects and god knows what other creatures. Yet here she was, traipsing up the embankment which, by the way, was primarily covered with dirt. Shells were interspersed, but it was not what she had imagined. She assumed this to be a heaping mound of white shells. The thought of dirt layering the area had never occurred to her.
They trudged up the slope as Fawn struggled with disillusionment.
Once the ground leveled, the trees became scattered. Light blinked from the far end of the mound.
“Lights out!” her father whispered.
For a long minute, Fawn and her father stood behind a thin tree, cloaked in darkness.
The distant light flickered through the trees. Contentious voices could be heard. Fawn and Juan moved blindly, stepping gingerly with hands outstretched. Slowly, they moved from tree to tree.
“Can you see them?” Fawn whispered as they paused behind another tree where moonlight offered scant lighting. They had cut the distance in half.
Her father shook his head from side to side, but something about his action was revealing. They continued, drawing closer, catching fragmented sentences that were barely audible.
Twenty yards away, they could see the beam of light was coming from a figure. Another person, who was holding a long tool, flashed out of sight. The beam of light shone downward, its destination unclear.
“Are there only two?” Fawn asked in a whisper.
“Yes. The figure holding the shovel is a man. Take this.” Juan handed Fawn his flashlight. He withdrew the revolver from his pants.
“Stay here,” he instructed Fawn.
Fawn saw a spark in the distance as a thunderous crack split the night. Her father had barely taken a step when he fell back. A rush of air left his body, and he collapsed beside Fawn. He writhed on the ground in agony, grabbing his shoulder. “I’m shot!”
“Father!” Fawn screamed. Another bullet went whistling by her in the darkness, smacking into a tree, dislodging bark.
“Fawn! I dropped the gun!” he grimaced.
Without thinking, Fawn fell to the ground, dropping both flashlights. Another bullet whizzed over her head. Like the last one, there was no report. The shooter must have applied a silencer.
Fawn searched frantically across the course ground. It was nearly impossible to see, and her father was moaning in pain as Fawn felt around him. Another bullet sank into a tree behind her.
“I think I dropped it in front of me,” her father whispered hoarsely.
Fawn stayed low, scurrying ahead. With trembling hands, she found the revolver.
“Come out, bitch,” the voice yelled.
It was Tony Liáng.
“No!” a second voice shouted. There was a blunt smack.
Fawn lifted the gun in the dark before her and slowly rose. The light ahead had been extinguished.
“Around Fawn. Go around,” Juan whispered, his breathing labored.
“Father, I can’t leave you,” she pleaded.
“It’s not fatal, but if you don’t get him…he’ll kill us. Go around,” he said breathlessly.
She did not want to leave her father. She was terrified. Yet, she also knew he was right.
“Where are you?” Liáng shouted.
Fawn grabbed a flashlight. Another bullet screamed past her. She moved to the left, staying low, feeling her way around the trees. The land soon rolled downward. Moving slowly, she kept off the plateau, sliding sideways along the embankment.
In the dark, Liáng continued his rant. “I’m going to kill you! Put a bullet in your pretty little skull!”
Fawn relished the sound. It meant the man was remaining stationary, not moving through the woods, where he might come across her injured father.
The Gulf of Mexico and the adjacent estuary came into view, glittering in the moonlight. She continued until she could tell the man’s voice was originating in front of her. She silently rose up the incline to the plateau. She had successfully circled behind his position.
The grim reality was that she only had two bullets, two shots. And there were at least two people ahead in the darkness, although only one, Tony Liáng, was making his presence obvious.
There was no room for error.
The man continued to shout vulgarities about what he would do to Fawn when he caught her.
She felt her soul fill with contempt. Not only had this bastard held her father prisoner for four months, leading everyone to think he was dead, the man had tried to blow them to kingdom come in the creek. Now he had shot her father.
Fawn had had enough.
She moved in the direction of the shouts. In the blackness, she used her hands to thread through the thin line of trees. The man kept barking obscenities, and she knew she was drawing close.
Suddenly, the ground evaporated below her feet. Fawn fell, landing harshly. Her breath was flushed from her lungs. She caught her breath and stood, shakily, tipping against the wall of a pit.
The gun was no longer in her hand.
Then she realized the wall she was braced against was not earth. It was smooth and cool. She tapped it with her fingers, and it made a metallic sound.
In the darkness beside her, she heard a low snort of air.
Fawn felt her blood go cold.
She moved backward, away from the source of the sound. She nearly stumbled on an irregularity on the ground as she pinned herself against the corner of the large pit.
In the far shadows, a shape rose. It moved slowly, standing erect.
Fawn was torn between screaming and remaining perfectly still. Near panic, she knew one thing: this was not Tony Liáng. A plethora of distant obscenities confirmed this. Something else was lurking in this deep, wide pit with her.
And she was not sure it was human.
Another sound, a groan, came from the far side of the pit. Then, as if a page was taken from Fawn’s worst nightmare, the distorted shape moved toward her, stopping not far away.
Fawn’s adrenaline screamed through her body. She was terrified, but she was not going down without a fight. Fawn pivoted, preparing to lash out at this creature with her foot if it came closer. Again, she almost stumbled on the tiny spot of uneven ground.
Suddenly, she realized what she was standing upon. She quickly bent down, and found a divine present. It was not clumped dirt or a rock. It was the Snubnose revolver. It had landed in the corner.
She rose quickly, holding the gun before her, hands trembling. “Don’t move,” she said, in a low tone, clenching her teeth.<
br />
“Fawn.” the voice called.
Fawn’s mind spiraled. It was a man’s voice. A voice she recognized.
It was Mike Roberson.
She aimed the gun in the darkness toward the figure and fired. The first shot spun Mike left, the second to the right and he fell into a lifeless heap on the ground.
The pit suddenly illuminated. Flood lights suspended at each corner burned brightly.
Mike lay face down, unmoving. Fawn could now see the full dimensions of the hole. The pit was approximately 24 feet long, seven feet wide, and 11 feet deep. The dark iron siding extended along the length of the hole but was nowhere near the height. The solid wall was six feet tall. Above the iron container was a five-foot layer of earth and shell. In the middle of the container was the distinct outline of two doors. The iron hold!
“Nice shooting, lady. Now drop the piece,” the Asian man said from somewhere above. “You’ve killed my partner.” His tone was strangely satirical and mocking.
She threw the gun aside and looked up, blinded by the bright lights.
“Since you’ve killed my help, now you’ve got some work to do.”
For the second time that day, Tony Liáng was looking down at Fawn, holding a gun on her. This time she had no hope of escaping death. All she could do now was buy time.
“Pick up the shovel!”
Fawn saw a shovel in the corner where Mike had been. She stepped around his body to retrieve it.
“See that small metal box at the union of the doors?”
“Yes,” Fawn responded weakly. She had never felt so defeated in her life. Her father was somewhere above, possibly bleeding to death, and there was nothing she could do.
“Knock it off,” the man grumbled.
Fawn looked at the shovel in her hand, then to the small section of metal. She navigated past Mike’s still body, and approached the doors. The small metal protrusion was chest-level to Fawn.
Fawn felt tears forming. She swallowed hard, fending them off. She wouldn’t give this bastard the satisfaction.
Fawn drew the shovel back and brought the head down hard. It landed with a clang! The edge bit into the convex plate and pulled it away from the iron doors. She hit it again. This time the metal cap crinkled, barely hanging by one edge. Another swift strike and it broke away, falling to the dirt.
Fawn now understood what the man was having her do. When the circular metal covering fell away, it exposed two key holes.
Fawn heard a plop. A plastic bag landed in the dirt beside her. It contained the two keys.
“I assume you want me to open the doors?”
The Asian man howled in laughter. “Your IQ is rising.”
Fawn lifted the plastic bag and unsealed it, removing the two keys. She turned them over until the JS and EK were exposed. The wall text came to mind:
The male will proceed to right
The female given turn.
A window opens deftly
A payment will be earned.
The male, James Spence Monroe – JS, on the right. Eliza Kortright Monroe – EK, on the left.
She took the JS key and placed it in the right keyhole, then the EK key in the left hole.
Fawn paused. She thought of how the iron container—the one her father had found offshore—had been booby trapped. Might this one also be rigged? There was a precise method to open the doors. JS key in the right hole, EK in the left. Is that the only way they will open? Or the only way they will open without setting off a trap?
She thought again about the text.
The male will proceed to right
The female given turn.
Does that mean I should turn the right key first, then the left? Or both together?
“Get on with it!” Liáng screamed.
Fawn cringed as a bullet struck the dirt between her feet, followed by a cackle of laughter. “I won’t miss with the next one!” he yelled.
She made her decision. The text appeared as ordered. The male will proceed to right. She turned the right key clockwise. There was a solid click. The female given turn. She turned the left key until the two tumblers snapped. The two doors recessed and drew away to either side, slipping behind the side walls like elevator doors opening. The moment it did, the man above cut the two back flood lights so that the inside of the iron hold was kept dark.
“Back away! Against the side!” the man ordered. Fawn complied.
A wooden ladder appeared to the side. Liáng came down, facing forward with the gun aimed at Fawn. When he reached the bottom of the pit, he ordered Fawn to move to the side. He proceeded before the open doors with a look of utter exuberance.
“Goddamn, he was right,” Liáng said as he fumbled with his flashlight. He found the switch, and the light licked the ground. He raised the beam, shining it inside the iron hold. First ahead, then to the right, then left.
Fawn could not see from her vantage point. At that moment, she was weighing the cons of rushing the man. It would be her best, if not only, opportunity to escape. But the chance of success was slim.
The calloused expression on Tony Liáng’s face gained her attention. His face screwed, turned red. Then it mutated as if he were going to cry.
“SON OF A BITCH! GODDAMMIT! There’s nothing here! There’s nothing fucking here!” The man dropped the flashlight inside the doorway. He turned to the side and walked away, running one hand through his ratty hair. “FUCK!”
Fawn eased to her left. The light on the ground shone to the back of the massive iron container, unobstructed. It was empty. Curiously, dirt and shell banked outward from the back wall, spilling on the floor.
Fawn knew in an instant what had happened. The iron hull had been breached on the opposite side.
Liáng steamed up the ladder. He withdrew it from the hole and barked at Fawn. “WHERE’S MY GODDAMN TREASURE!”
“I…I don’t have it. I’ve never been here before,” Fawn was shaking. The rear flood lights came on, and she could no longer see the man.
A bullet struck the dirt, barely missing her right foot.
She screamed. “I DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO IT. I SWEAR I DON’T!” Fawn began to sob.
A succession of gunshots ripped the air. Then a dark figure fell into the pit and landed with a thud. The dark and gray disheveled hair left no doubt as to who it was. The Asian man lay face down, his body still. His shirt was tattered, soaked in blood. It all happened so fast; Fawn froze.
“Father?” she called, tentatively. It had to be. Somehow, he had gotten Liáng’s gun and shot him. “Father?” she called more assertively.
Had they shot each other? She had heard multiple gunshots.
She continued to call out repeatedly. Minutes went by, and her cries went unanswered. Fawn eased down against the dirt wall, between the wilted body of Mike and the bloodied carcass of the Asian man, and she wept.
Within minutes, she passed out from exhaustion.
Fawn felt herself being lifted. She opened her eyes to see a uniformed police officer reaching down the ladder and grabbing her. There was talking and light flashing. She was consumed with fatigue, but managed to slur. “My father…get my father…”
Then the world faded into nothingness.
CHAPTER 45
Fawn awoke in a white room with a single window covered by white shades. A small bouquet of colorful flowers was on a side table. She was propped up slightly. Detective Mayes was sitting by her side. She looked around, puzzled.
“Where am I?”
“In the hospital. You’re back on Amelia Island.”
“What happened to my father?” Her mouth was dry.
“He’ll be fine. He took a bullet to his side. He’s in a room on the floor above.”
“What day is it?”
Detective Mayes grinned. “Don’t worry. You haven�
��t been in a coma. It’s only been 15 hours since we pulled you out of that pit. It’s Sunday afternoon. You’re only being held for observation. You were suffering from fatigue.”
Fawn swallowed hard. “What happened?”
“Well…that was to be my question. When you called last night, I tracked you to Cedar Key by your phone. Since I suspected you were tied to the incident in the creek where the boat and dock were blown up, I correlated the theft of a 1984 Dodge Daytona to you. Once I knew you were in Cedar Key, I alerted police in the area. By the time I drove over, there had been a report of a loud noise, a possible gunshot, at the National Wildlife Refuge on the outskirts of town. I responded with local police, and we found the stolen car. It wasn’t long before we saw the lights on the top of that shell mound.
“We found your father. Then we discovered three bodies inside the pit. Fortunately, only one was dead. From Tony Liáng’s rap sheet, we know he wasn’t the angelic one in the group. He had a long list of prior felonies. He died from multiple shots. Ms. Cortez, who killed him?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you were there.”
“I was in the hole. He was shot at the top then fell into the pit.”
“You have no idea who shot him?”
“I assumed it was my father.”
Mayes shook his head. “He was unconscious.”
“Wait. Did you say Tony Liáng was the only one who died? What about Mike?”
“Your fiancé? He’s in the room next to yours.”
Fawn frowned. “Mike’s involved. He’s one of the kidnappers.”
“Kidnappers? Who was kidnapped?”
“My father.”
“And you think Mike Roberson had a hand in it?”
“I know he did. That’s why I shot him.”
“Well, that answers that question,” Detective Mayes responded. “By the way, neat trick, your father showing up alive and well, minus one arm, that is. There seems to be a lot of reincarnation going on these days.”
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