Krewe of Hunters Series, Volume 5

by Heather Graham

  “Good night.” She smiled, waving at him. She realized she liked the sound of her title. She hadn’t had time to think about it yet.

  In her room, she walked over to the half-open door. The card game was still going on.

  “Everything okay?” she asked the two women.

  “She cheats,” Kendra Walker said, pointing her finger.

  “I do not! She’s a con artist!” Maddie joked in return.

  Kendra laughed. “Well, I’m off to bed. Have a good night, ladies.” As she left the room, Maddie yawned.

  “You all right?” Meg asked.

  “I’m happy as a lark.” Looking at Meg, she suddenly frowned. “You’ve got something gray stuck in your hair.”

  “Gray?” Meg touched her head. Spiderweb.

  “Hmm. I must’ve, uh, leaned against a wall somewhere. Anyway, if you’re okay and going to sleep, I’ll take a shower. Sleep well. Don’t forget, I’ll be just over there, with a Glock by my side—and I scored higher than the boys at the shooting range.”

  “Good night. And thanks.”

  “No problem.” She was glad she’d so recently come from the academy. She was used to sharing accommodations, and the open door didn’t bother her at all.

  Still, she walked into the bathroom fully dressed in the sweats she’d be wearing to bed. She grabbed a hanger for her shirt and jacket and, undressing, pulled her Glock and its small holster from her waistband. She set them on the back of the commode, then hung up her clothing. After that, she brushed her teeth and stepped into the shower, armed with soap, shampoo and conditioner.

  The water pressure was strong, the water nice and hot. She let it pour over her as she contemplated the day. It seemed almost impossible that she hadn’t found Lara; she’d been so certain that the ruined house was going to hold some kind of dank, dark prison.

  But it hadn’t.

  She washed her hair and put conditioner on it, closing her eyes as she rinsed.

  And in that moment she was attacked.

  Her eyes were closed; the water had drowned out any sound. She’d never known that someone was coming; she would never have believed anyone would come after her in this house.

  She didn’t have time to chastise herself for her stupidity. She never even heard the shower curtain open. Hands went around her head and a rag soaked with chloroform was over her face before she could inhale to scream, before she could begin to fight.

  There was an instant of fury at herself, but no time to fear, not even time to know she was going to die.

  There was just nothing.

  CHAPTER 16

  Matt had voted for Ian Walker. He hadn’t known the man personally; he’d watched him speak and thought he was an excellent speaker and that he had solid, thoroughly researched plans. Of course, he usually saw him with Congressman Hubbard, and most people had imagined that when the time was right, the two of them would make a formidable ticket, Hubbard for president with Walker as his VP.

  Hubbard’s death had changed all that—and put Walker in the forefront.

  That night, all he could think was that the congressman was a major pain in the ass.

  Walker insisted on seeing the speaking platform and dais; he wanted to see where every person would be sitting, his wife and Maddie—who was really more important on this occasion than Kendra, since she was a beloved public figure. Then he wanted to know where every security team member would be.

  He’d promised they’d be brief, but it was a good two hours before he and his security returned to the MacAndrew.

  They were met by the security forces watching the house who assured them that the evening had been without incident. In the house, he found a man from the Capitol police force in the parlor, along with Joe Brighton.

  “All quiet here?” Matt asked, holding Killer on a tight leash.

  “Quiet as can be,” Brighton replied. “The ladies all went to sleep. I’m assuming they wanted their beauty rest so they could be up bright and early tomorrow.”

  “I’ll take over on watch here,” Nathan told Joe. “You can spell me around three or four, all right?”

  “I think we have enough security around here that you guys don’t need to stay up,” Walker said. “I have to admit that I was shaken by those tongues showing up. Obviously, someone really hates me or wants to see me go down. But yeah, you could all get some sleep. Me, I’m heading up to be with my wife.”

  Jackson nodded at Matt; he was free to go to bed. He’d check on Meg first.

  Upstairs, he found that Meg had locked her bedroom door. Smart move, he thought. She had to be safe in there.

  But Killer, trotting beside him, wasn’t satisfied.

  The dog scratched at Meg’s door and whined, then started jumping on Matt’s legs, insistent that he do something, that he get the door open.

  “Everything okay?” the Capitol police cop asked from the end of the hall. “The dog’s going to wake everyone.”

  “I just want to check on Agent Murray. If the dog is upset, there’s even more reason for me to do so.”

  “Knock on the door. I know she’s inside there. I watched her go in and haven’t seen her leave.”

  He knocked as softly as he could, and then harder. There was no response.

  Matt moved down the hall to the door to Maddie’s room. He tried the door. It, too, was locked.

  By then, others began to come out of their rooms. Jackson and Angela, Kendra and Ian Walker, and then Nathan Oliver.

  “I need this door opened,” Matt explained. He had to make sure both of them were fine. He didn’t give a damn about anyone’s opinion or the consequences. He kicked the door to Maddie’s room open and threw on the light.

  Maddie Hubbard was in bed. She was sleeping deeply; she didn’t wake up, even with the sound of her door being kicked in or the bright light suddenly streaming into her room.

  Was the woman dead?

  Matt rushed to her side and felt for a pulse; she was alive. He shook her arm, lightly at first. “Mrs. Hubbard. Maddie.” She still didn’t wake. He shook harder. Her eyes slowly opened, and she stared at him with confusion.

  “You’re all right,” he said briefly.

  He left her to the others and walked through the adjoining door into Meg’s room. Killer was already there, barking insanely.

  Matt turned on the light. At first, he thought she was in the bed. Then he discovered that it was just pillows and wadded-up blankets.

  He looked at her window. It was wide-open. The evening breeze was gusting in.

  And Meg was gone.

  * * *

  Meg woke slowly, fighting what seemed like swarms of spiderwebs in her mind.

  Then she became aware of the cold, hard ground beneath her and the dank smell of earth. She was cold—naked, shaking, shivering. Next, she became aware of the wet feel of her hair, clumped around her body and her face. She tried to move, but it was difficult; her limbs felt as numb as her mind. She had to make an effort to get her eyelids to open, and when they did, she wasn’t sure if they were truly open or not. She was surrounded by darkness. She tried to rise and realized she had to do it slowly. She wanted to leap to a defensive posture immediately, but it wasn’t that easy.

  She wasn’t dead; she hadn’t had her throat slit. She was in a dark place, lying on a dirt floor that felt like earth. She was cold because she was naked, and she couldn’t have been there too long because her hair was still really wet. She remembered that she’d been taken in the shower.

  She had nothing—no gun, no weapon, nothing—including clothes. She was somewhere…near the MacAndrew farmhouse. She had to be.

  She managed to come to her knees, and then to stand carefully. She held very still, listening, but she could hear nothing at all. The night was completely silent.
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  Where the hell was she?

  She reached in front of her, trying to discover what she could feel. Just more dirt.

  She inched forward. Her mind raced in several directions. It was impossible! Impossible that someone had kidnapped her from the MacAndrew house. Her door had been open to the next room. There’d been a policeman in the hall. There was security all around the house.

  Impossible! Yet here she was.

  But she wasn’t dead yet!

  She gritted her teeth, fighting cold and fear. She reminded herself that she’d been trained, that she was in excellent shape.

  And that Matt would return to the house…and he would discover she wasn’t there, and he’d start a search that would continue until he found her. She would be found.

  Unless the killer returned first.

  She stood still, halting her blind groping for a moment. She remembered when they’d been at the Virginia Monument, when she’d sat on the step and closed her eyes and thought of Lara. She’d touched Lara’s mind somehow…and she had seen this place. Dank and dark, filled with the rich scent of earth.

  Lara had been here.

  She dropped back to her knees. She had to take care with every movement. She couldn’t afford to hurt herself. She began to crawl, reaching out tentatively, trying to feel for what was directly ahead of her. Finding only more earth.

  Then she touched stone, and she was suddenly sure she knew exactly where she was.

  The mill. The ruined mill by the stream that passed near the condemned property, which had recently been purchased by Walker’s company. And Lara was here somewhere.

  She was right! She heard a soft moan, so weak it was barely audible. She had to force herself to pinpoint the sound—and to move slowly and carefully toward it. Inch by inch. There was a stone object to her left, one of the old grindstones, she thought. She hit metal next and figured it was part of the mechanism. She moved around it with painstaking care.

  And then, finally, she hit flesh.

  Lara.

  She’d found her at last. “Lara!” she said loudly. “Lara, Lara!”

  The body stirred.

  And then she heard her name.

  “Meg! Meg, I knew you’d find me.”

  Meg let out a cry of relief and blindly slid her arms around her friend. “Yes, yes, I’m here. We’re going to be okay.”

  Yes, they were going to be okay.

  As soon as she figured a way out of here.

  * * *

  Lara had almost no voice left at all. When she spoke, it was in a scratchy whisper. “I don’t know where we are. I was on my way home in DC and I called you. I was afraid because of that girl who’d been killed—her throat slit—I saw a van and I started to dial emergency. But I decided I was being ridiculous. Then I saw a car, a black sedan, and I thought that Walker had sent someone to see that I got home okay. And I walked over to the car and…” She paused for a moment, and the silence frightened Meg, but then she heard her friend draw another breath to continue. “Someone had been sent, all right. I didn’t even see his face before I realized he’d come for me. I ran. I ran but he threw himself on me and then…then I was out, and I woke up here.”

  “So you don’t know who it was?” Meg asked with dismay. “Or does it matter? Is Walker’s whole household involved?”

  “No, no, I don’t believe so. We were in his office late that night—the five of us—fighting about the platform and I said something about how convenient it was that Congressman Hubbard was dead. Ian appeared to be shocked, then everyone was shouting that it was horrible that I could’ve said such a thing. It occurred to me that we’d all been at a picnic with him to benefit a kids’ program the day he died. Maddie was worried about her husband, reminding him about his heart condition. He patted his suit pocket and said he always had his pills with him, he’d be fine. Meg, I’d started to wonder if someone that day had gotten hold of his pills and switched them with something else.”

  Lara was shaking as she spoke, her words a hoarse whisper. She was burning up with fever, Meg thought. She had to get them out of here.

  Lara seemed to read her mind. “I’ve been all around this place,” she said. “Over and over again. We’re deep in the ground somewhere. There’s no way out. There’s stone in the middle and earthen walls all around. It’s impossible.”

  “We’re in the mill,” Meg told her, “the ruins of the old corn mill.”

  “What old corn mill?”

  “It’s in Gettysburg. We’re in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. And I know exactly where we are. I wasn’t very far away, searching for you today. No farther than a football field.”

  “Gettysburg…” Lara said. “I was in DC and now I’m in Gettysburg… How are we going to get out? We can’t scale the walls. Trust me, I tried. At the beginning, I had a lot more strength. I tried, Meg. I screamed, I yelled, I tested the walls. They’re just dirt, so you can’t crawl up them.”

  “There are two of us now, Lara. We can get to that stone in the middle and one of us can climb on the other and—”

  “Oh, Meg, I have no strength left! I can barely move.”

  “I’ll lift you.”

  “I don’t even know if I can stand up.” She struggled to sit, grabbing Meg for support. Meg held her, and Lara groaned. “I was going to ask if you had an aspirin. You don’t even have any clothes. Neither do I. No purse, no aspirin.”

  “We’re getting out of here,” Meg said desperately. She got to her feet and pulled Lara to hers. “I can be the muscle for both of us.” She swore, supporting Lara as she staggered along. “Let’s make our way to the stone. It’s a container—a big stone container for the corn to go in… If you can get to the ledge and use the stone as leverage, I can crawl up.”

  “Oh, Meg, I’ll try anything, but…I’m broken here.”

  “You’re not broken, Lara. You’re a fighter! You’ve fought for the underdog all your life. Well, we’re the underdogs here. Fight! We have to fight!”

  “I’m ready when you are,” Lara said on a shaky breath.

  Meg led the way to the container for the corn that was once ground there. “Be careful. The mechanism must be faulty now. We don’t want to end up milled,” Meg said.

  “Just get to the ledge, get over it to the other side so it acts like a counterweight, and I’ll give you my arm,” Lara told her.

  “Yes.”

  “You have the strength…”

  “Yes,” Meg said firmly. She was glad of the brutal hours of training she’d gone through at the academy. She was strong. They were going to survive.

  She raised Lara up, trying to angle her to stand on her shoulders. Lara giggled softly.

  “What?” Meg asked.

  Lara’s giggle was of an hysterical sob. “This would make one helluva porn movie, wouldn’t you say? Maybe a snuff-porn movie,” she added grimly.

  “Get up there. If anyone is getting snuffed, it’s those responsible for all the deaths—and this situation.”

  “All the deaths?” Lara repeated. “All what deaths?”

  Meg realized her friend didn’t know about the three women who’d died since her disappearance. This didn’t seem the time to tell her. She didn’t reply.

  “Get up there!” she said instead, balancing her weight, trying to get Lara onto her shoulders, then standing, so Lara could grab the lip of the stone container.

  “It’s just beyond my reach,” Lara said.

  “Stretch!” Meg ordered her.

  “I—I can’t…”

  “Stretch, damn you! I am not dying down here!” Meg snapped. “And neither are you!”

  A second later, she felt Lara’s weight lift from her shoulders. And after another few seconds, when she fumbled around in the darkness, she found Lara’s hand. She took a de
ep breath. She was in good shape, excellent shape, and she prayed she could hoist her own weight with enough power to drag herself up to the ledge.

  She clasped Lara’s hand and braced against the stone with her feet. It wasn’t going to be enough.

  “Hang on!” she called to Lara. She took another deep breath and assessed her situation. She tried again. No, it really wasn’t going to work. But then she heard Lara grunting, swearing, sobbing. She pressed her feet against the stone and used the leverage to hoist her own weight. She freed one hand from Lara’s grasp and reached…

  And she had it; she had the ledge. With tremendous force she pulled herself up.

  They were still in stygian darkness, perched precariously on the ledge. Balancing carefully, she began to feel around. She found the platform by the ledge and dragged herself over, hoping that the wooden flooring would hold.

  It did. She reached back for Lara, telling her to follow the sound of her voice. A minute later, she felt her friend’s hand. They were both on the platform.

  Meg lay back for a moment, breathing hard. And then she realized that she was seeing a pinprick of light. The moon was peeking through a hole in the mill’s roof.

  The light seemed to burst into her like a thrill of hope. She squeezed Lara’s hand. There was no response.

  “Lara!”

  “Meg… I… I can hardly breathe.”

  “We’re close, so close to help. Get up! Come on!”

  Meg stood. She held Lara, who could barely make it. Her friend had obviously used the last of her strength to pull her up.

  She kept still, not moving at all, and let Lara regain her balance. Her eyes adjusted to that little bit of light. There was a break, she saw now, in the giant barnlike doors to the place. Despite the rough flooring—the pebbles, splinters and everything else on the ragged wooden floorboards—she headed for the door, half carrying, half dragging Lara.

  When she got to the doors and pushed her way through, the moonlight seemed so bright she had to blink against it.

  But she’d been correct. They were at the ruined mill. And beyond it, she could see the ruins of the old house and, beyond that, the Yankee reenactment camp, quiet now in the night.