by Deborah Camp
“I’m putting her back in the safe place. Nobody’s taking her from me. Nobody!” Moses stomped one big boot.
That’s when Levi noticed what they were standing on – rotting planks of wood where the boulder had been. Fuck! A root cellar. The clammy claw of fear gripped him by the balls and gave them a good, hard wrench that sent a moan up his throat.
Root cellar. The box. Levi fought the bile that surged up his throat. Black spots floated before his eyes as he was transported back to when he was a boy, around Rachel’s age, and had been locked in a similar hole for hours and days for being bad . . . for being psychic. He still had screaming nightmares about it. The dark. The rats. The horror.
“No!” Rachel cried. “I’m not going in there again!”
“Hush your mouth!” Moses growled, bending over her and clamping his hands on her narrow shoulders. She let out a wail of fear and wiggled frantically trying to get free of him.
Caught up in his own private hell, Levi started to step off the boards just as Moses stomped the boards again and the loud crack of splintered wood rent the air. Then Levi was falling, plunging into a darkness that was as thick and choking as pure madness.
His shoulder and hip rapped against wood steps and then he hit the hard ground. Something landed on him and rolled off. Rachel! Smothered in darkness and breathing in dirt and debris, his lungs burned. Moses kicked him in the small of the back, sending a jolt of fresh pain up his spine to burst like fireworks in his head. Forcing himself to his hands and knees, he wiped dirt out of his eyes and tried to see what kind of hell he’d fallen into. It was all too familiar.
Cobwebs clung to the corners. Ramshackle shelving lined the earthen walls. Cockroaches and water bugs skittered across his hands and he surged to his feet, a scream clogging the back of his throat, his heart booming in his ears. Rats! Biting! No one’s coming. Buried alive in here. Buried alive.
Moses rose up in front of him, his teeth and the whites of his eyes gleaming in the darkness. “Where’d she go? Where’s the girl?”
“You sick sonofabitch!” Before his rational mind could catch up with the irrational, terrified boy screaming inside him, Levi had one hand around Moses’ throat and had backed him against the nearest wall of shelves. “You put her in here? In here?” His fingers tightened like a vise and Moses lashed out, shoving his fist into Levi’s side once, twice, connecting his knuckles into Levi’s ribs and trying to shatter the bones. Instinctively, Levi aimed his fist at the man’s shining teeth and tightened his grip on Moses’ throat to close off his airway.
Thrashing and pounding sounded above them. Levi looked up. A beam of light struck his eyes.
“Wolfe! Hart! That’s enough.”
Disoriented and still trying to sling off his nightmarish, childhood memories, Levi loosened his grip on Moses’ neck and let the man gulp for air. A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, spinning him sideways and making him stumble and fall against the wall. What the hell? Flashlight beams bounced around the earthen walls, lighting the dank, suffocating cellar. Levi found himself staring into the serious face of FBI Special Agent Eric Wannamaker.
Ah, the cavalry has finally arrived, he thought with an inner eye roll. He swallowed the sourness in his mouth and shook his head. A small hand worked itself into his and he looked down to see Rachel. She plastered her frail, quivering body against his leg and hip. “Hey there, Miss Rudd. Are you okay?”
“Uh-huh,” she whispered, turning her big, bright brown eyes up to his. “I fell on you. Did I hurt you?”
“No.” He smiled, touched by her concern for him. “I’m fine and so are you. You’re safe. I have you now.” He squeezed her hand – just a little. Her fingers were so tiny. So delicate.
“I’ll take her.” Wannamaker gathered her up in his arms and lifted her so that another agent could reach down for her.
Feeling like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin, Levi bounced on the balls of his feet as he waited for Rachel to be lifted out of the space. He shouldered past Wannamaker and bounded up the cellar steps, making a mad dash for freedom.
Above ground again, he bent over, propped his hands on his knees, and hoped he wouldn’t hyperventilate as he tried his damnedest to shut out the vile, horrific memories that comprised his childhood.
“You okay?”
Levi stiffened when Wannamaker spoke, only then realizing that he’d been moaning softly. “Yeah.” He straightened slowly, placing an exploratory hand against his throbbing ribcage. “You got here fast.”
“You’re bleeding.” Wannamaker’s stared at Levi’s forehead. “Looks like you rapped your head against something.”
“Yeah, well, I fell into a fucking root cellar with two other people.” He touched the place that was stinging on his head and his fingers came away smeared with blood and dirt.
“We were here before you drove up and Hart spotted you on the highway,” Wannamaker said, looking officious in a black windbreaker that had FBI stamped in yellow across the front and back. “We waited to see just what business you had here. For all we knew, you and Miss Tucker might be in collusion with Hart and his mother.”
“Collusion.” He stared hard at the FBI agent, making him look away first. Ass wipe. “Trudy is calling your office right now.”
“We intercepted her. She’s at the house waiting for us.”
“What, in handcuffs and leg irons?”
Wannamaker scowled at him. “Everyone’s a suspect, Wolfe. You know that.”
“I thought you boys were off in Texas chasing AmyLynn’s ex-brother-in-law.”
Wannamaker arched an eyebrow and flicked away pieces of grass that clung to his bullet-proof vest. “That was a smokescreen. We didn’t want anyone to tip off Hart.”
“In a strange way, I’m relieved to hear that. When Trudy told me that you were off chasing shadows in Texas, I thought you Federal boys were imbeciles.”
Something tugged on Levi’s jacket and he looked down into the upturned, dirt-smudged, bruised face of Rachel Lynn Rudd.
“I sent you my SOS. I knew you’d find me ’cause you’re my brother,” she said, softly, shyly.
Her words pricked his crusty heart with uncanny accuracy. Looking from her to Wannamaker, he felt out of his element like a fish thrashing on a sunny river bank.
“You did the right thing,” Levi told her. Looking into her trusting eyes stirred old feelings inside him of confusion and guilt. “You didn’t do anything wrong. That man and woman who took you are the bad people. Everything you did was exactly what you should have done. Understand?”
She nodded and her little fingers curled into his palm again. She fixed Wannamaker with her big, brown eyes.
“This is my brother. Hannah told me.” She sniffed and ran her free hand up her runny nose. “We saw him on television. Hannah said he can send and get messages through the air like magic and Hannah never lies. I sent him a message. I sent him an SOS like in the song Hannah likes and he came to take me back to Mommy.”
Levi crouched to be eye level with her. “Rachel, I did come for you, but I didn’t get your message. Trudy did. She’s the one who really found you.”
She stared at him for a few moments and then her gaze locked on his head wound. “You got hurt. You need a Band-Aid. Mommy has Band-Aids for me that have ponies on them.”
He smiled. She was certainly a little charmer. “I’m okay. Listen, I’ll introduce you to Trudy. She’s been searching for you. She found you. I just got to you first.”
She pursed her pink bow of a mouth. “But you are my brother. Hannah doesn’t lie.”
He started to dissect this for her and explain the concept of step-siblings, but then thought better of it. What the hell. The kid had been through enough.
“Leviiiiiii!”
Levi straightened and spun around, searching for the source of that anguished, fear-ridden cry. Trudy burst from the tree line, her eyes wide and searching. An FBI agent was right on her heels, but slowed to a stop as Trudy ran on, flin
ging herself at Levi and into his waiting arms. He grunted, taking her weight and wincing when his bruised ribs sent hot pain shooting through his chest.
“Tru?” He ran his hands over her shoulders, back, hips, searching for injuries because something was obviously wrong. “What’s wrong? Talk to me, baby.”
She pulled back and framed his face in her hands as she scoured him with her worried gaze. “Are you okay? I . . . felt . . . you.” She sobbed and pulled her trembling lower lip between her teeth for a moment. “I was talking to his mother and she told me about the root cellar and then I felt your panic like it was my own.” Her green eyes swam with tears. “Searing, horrible panicky pain. I knew something bad had happened to you. Your head . . . you’re bleeding.” She stepped back from him. “And you’re filthy.”
“Yeah.” He brushed at his clothes. “We fell into the cellar.” He saw the worry for him rise in her eyes and he ruffled her soft, auburn hair. “I’m okay. I didn’t flip out – much.” He had to focus on something besides her sweet, loving expression or he was afraid his heart was going to burst. “We found Rachel,” he said, seizing on the change of subject and glancing around to find her standing near him. “Rachel, this is the girl I was telling you about. This is Trudy. She’s the one who heard your SOS and knew where to find you.”
Trudy released a squeak of delight and dropped to her knees in front of the child. She placed her hands lightly on Rachel’s shoulders. “Oh, honeybee, it’s so good to see you! Your mother has missed you so very much! Everyone has been looking for you.”
“You know my mommy?”
“Yes. She brought me here to find you. She’s been so sad without you. Hannah, too.”
The natural way Trudy spoke to the child and how she lovingly ran her hands up and down Rachel’s arms twisted Levi’s heart. He had to look away. The achingly tender scene was simply too much for him.
“Where’s Mommy? I want Mommy!” Rachel wailed
“And we’ll take you to her,” Wannamaker said, coming forward and swinging Rachel up into his arms and away from Trudy. He motioned for one of the other men. “Sanders, take Rachel to St. Francis Medical Center. She needs to be checked over. I’ll contact the Comforts and have them meet us there. Dunhill, you and Sizemore take the Harts in to the jail and book them.” He leveled his gaze on Levi, who was helping Trudy to stand. “We’ll take it from here, Wolfe. You should probably get checked out at the hospital, too.”
Levi didn’t have to look at Trudy to know that steam was pouring out of her ears. “Trudy was hired by AmyLynn. Not by you.”
“If it hadn’t been for my psychic work, you’d still be twiddling your thumbs,” Trudy said, stepping right in front of Wannamaker, her hands fisted at her sides, and her body stiff with offense. “So, can the Almighty attitude.”
Levi smirked and his conscience told him to defuse the situation, but damn if he wasn’t enjoying it too much to interfere.
“We had the Harts under surveillance,” Wannamaker said, arching that eyebrow again.
Trudy angled up her chin in her classic don’t-fuck-with-me gesture. “That’s crap. You figured it out after I sent you my report about the kidnapper looking a lot like someone Rachel knew and trusted and that he drove a black pickup truck.” She gave a little sniff. “You go right ahead and tell your ‘official’ story, just as long as you understand that we all know that it’s horse hockey.”
Levi placed his hand over his mouth to hide his grin. His woman was fierce. No doubt about it. Wannamaker glared at her a few moments, then gave a shrug, and strode away.
Trudy turned toward Levi. “Did you hear that guy? Acting like his detective work led them here? The nerve.” She stared daggers at the departing FBI agents.
Levi surveyed the clearing, too, and a chill passed through him when his gaze ventured too close to the hole in the earth. “Come on, Tru. Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter 18
By the time they arrived back at the RV, it was almost midnight. Four hours had been spent at the hospital, much to Levi’s consternation. They’d received word that Rachel was in good health, considering what she’d endured. Levi had finally gotten medical attention, which had consisted of cleaning the cut on his forehead, the application of a butterfly bandage, and being told that he’d suffered contusions on his ribcage, shoulder, hip, and back, but no broken bones. Trudy had driven back to Cotton, letting Levi stare moodily out the window, grunting every so often at something she said.
Mister Moody Blues had returned.
But who could blame him, she thought, as she emerged from the car and stretched her aching leg and back muscles. It had been a helluva day and night. She trudged to the RV with Levi following.
“Mr. Wolfe?”
They both jumped a little and Trudy clapped a hand to her chest where her heart bucked. Frank Henderson stepped into a pool of moonlight.
“Henderson, what are you doing lurking around here?” Levi snapped.
“It’s my job, sir.”
Levi scowled at him. “Go get some shut-eye. That’s what we’re going to do.”
“I wanted to make sure you were all right. I heard that the little girl has been reunited with her family.”
“That’s right. It’s over.”
“Thanks for waiting up, Frank,” Trudy said, smiling at him, then moving aside to let Levi into the RV. “See you in the morning.”
“Good night, ma’am.”
Trudy shut the door and locked it. When she turned, she found Levi leaning against the counter, watching her with blood-shot, hooded eyes. “Are you really all right?” she asked him.
“Other than being exhausted, yes. What about you?”
She shrugged. “I feel . . . incomplete. You know, like things have been left hanging.”
“We’ll sort it all out tomorrow. Tell me about you feeling what I was feeling when I fell in that hole.”
She closed the distance between them, snuggling against him and pressing her ear to his chest to listen to his heartbeats. “It happened once before. When you were driving from Miami to the Keys and I wasn’t answering my cellphone and you were afraid that the serial killer might have located me. Remember?”
“Vividly.”
“I thought I could feel your anger and fear while I was at dinner that night with Detective Sinclair, but I chalked it up to fanciful thinking.”
“Always doubting yourself,” he chided. “And it was the same today?”
“Yes, but much more intense. I was talking to that old troll of a woman and she said that Moses had taken Rachel to the root cellar. That worried me, but then this huge, blinding sensation blasted through my head and my heart started tripping over itself. I knew it was you – that you were in that cellar.”
“Right.” He gripped her upper arms and set her away from him. “I’m going to take a shower. You don’t mind if I go first, do you?”
“No. Go ahead.” She stared after him in confusion as he grabbed a pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt before ducking into the small bathroom and closing the door. He’d never closed the door before when he took a shower. Not on her. She debated stripping off her clothes and joining him. If they’d been at his huge bathroom at the Atlanta penthouse, that’s exactly what she would have done, but the RV shower stall was narrow. Barely wide enough for him to stand in.
Sighing, she put a leash on Mouse and took her outside for a walk around the RV. Tony had done a good job removing the ugly graffiti from the sides of the motorhome. Instead of selling the RV, she’d decided to give it to her parents for Christmas.
Back inside, she put Mouse into her crate for the night. She heard Levi turn off the shower as she removed her clothes and slipped into her short bathrobe. A shower was what she needed, too. The bathroom door opened and Levi stepped out, clad in the dark blue sleep pants and t-shirt, his hair damp, his eyes still hooded.
“It’s all yours. I left you a glassful of hot water.”
“Gee. Thanks.” She whacked him
on his butt as she went past him, but got no reaction. Odd. Very un-Levi.
The hot water lasted for only a few minutes, so she was shivering slightly as she stepped out onto the bath mat and toweled off. She blasted her short hair with the dryer for a few minutes and then brushed her teeth. Emerging from the bathroom, she went to the bedroom and stared at the empty bed.
“Levi?” Turning, she spotted him seated on the couch. Not moving. Just sitting. “Levi,” she whispered, moving closer and only then realizing by the deep concentration etched on his handsome face and his eyes shut tightly that he was channeling. Channeling whom?
She sat down slowly, carefully and waited for him to come back to her. Levi frowned, flinched, and frowned again. His eyes moved behind his closed lids and this thick, black lashes lifted minutely every few seconds. He was deeply into his mind, communicating with a spirit or spirits. Breathing choppily and rubbing the palms of his hands on the couch cushion beside him, Levi was obviously agitated about what he was experiencing.
Trudy leaned closer when he parted his lips, thinking he might say something to give her a hint of what was going on. But he said nothing. A single drop of moisture leaked from the corner of his eye and rolled down his cheek. He swallowed hard and sucked in a quaking breath.
What in the world was going on? He must be channeling someone he knew, she thought. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be so agitated. Oh, no. Becky?
His chest lifted as he filled his lungs and he opened his eyes slowly, staring straight ahead for a few moments before noticing her.
“What just happened?” she asked.
He cleared his throat. “I was with Gregory.”
Ah, his spirit guide. She relaxed a little, but knew there was more. “You seemed upset.”
“Becky came forward with him again.”
Trudy moved closer to him, ready for whatever he had to say. “And?”
A faint smile curved his mouth. “She just wanted to thank me.” He chuckled softly. “That’s it. She thanked me and said I was her hero. Then she left. All this time, I’ve been so afraid of her. Obviously, it stems from my childhood. When she appeared to me night after night, she scared the living hell out of me. I guess I never got past that feeling. And then when I saw her body . . .” He closed his eyes for a few moments and swallowed hard. “That’s heavy shit for an eight-year-old boy to handle on his own. After that, I didn’t even want to hear her name, much less see her or communicate with her. She’s tried to contact me before, but I’ve blocked her.”