by T F Allen
Jolene stopped at the end of a row. She turned and crouched, then motioned for Hannah to do the same. “We’re here. The trapdoor is twenty feet that way.”
“Tell me what it looks like down there. What’s the layout?”
“Steps. Then a hallway, maybe ten feet or so. You’ll see a barred gate to the right. That’s where he keeps Michael. It’s a room about ten feet square.”
“And the keys?”
“Donnie has the only set.”
“Anything else I should know about? Like weapons?”
Jolene closed her eyes like she was receiving a vision. “He always has a knife. And there’s a remote he uses. It sets off a shock collar fitted around Michael’s neck. Very powerful.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish.” Jolene looked away, and Hannah glimpsed what looked like circular burn marks connected in a chain across her Adam’s apple. Nope, this woman wasn’t kidding.
“I’ll go first.” She dropped the veil, pulled the hunting knife out of her backpack, and removed its sheath. The blade was six inches long, sharp on both sides with one serrated edge. She held it out toward Jolene, but she wouldn’t look. “You come in behind me. Stay close. Maybe we can take him by surprise.” She dug into her backpack and grabbed the flat-head screwdriver she’d used on the window. “Here. It’s not much, but it’ll penetrate if you push hard enough.”
Jolene stared at the screwdriver a long time before she took it. She held it near her chest like a candle. Hannah doubted she’d have the courage to use it, but she couldn’t ask her to charge down there with nothing to defend herself.
She retrieved her LED flashlight and turned it on. “We go on three. One.”
I sent her an image of two large wooden doors—the entrance doors to the caves.
“Two.”
I sent it again, this time with the doors wide open. The message couldn’t be any clearer, but she wouldn’t allow herself to see it. She was too busy staring at the knife and visualizing her next move.
“Three.” Hannah sprang from her crouch and ran in the direction Jolene had pointed, toward the corner of the property. A flashlight in one hand, a knife in the other. A thin, scared woman with a screwdriver backing her up. It was the best she could do on short notice.
She reached the trapdoor in seconds. It was already open—not a good sign. No lights below, at least none she could see.
Maybe it was smarter to go in slowly, to sneak as close as possible before showing herself. She drew a deep breath, tried to calm her racing pulse, and looked into the stars. “Stay with me now,” she said. Then she took her first silent steps into the hole.
The flashlight beam led her way, and she wielded it like a sword, sweeping side to side with every step. When she reached the bottom, she searched the hallway. It looked just like Jolene had described, short and narrow and lined with cinder blocks. No hiding places except for the cell up ahead. Everything was so dark. She knew the flashlight gave her away, but she couldn’t imagine coming down here without it.
She checked behind her. Jolene stood at the top of the steps, knees and elbows locked, as still as a mannequin. Hannah definitely was on her own. Looking ahead, the gate to the cell was wide open, resting against an overturned wooden stool. A round dimmer switch was set into the wall—probably wired to the room.
She aimed her beam at the ground and stayed perfectly still. She listened with her ears and every other sense she could use. The acrid scent in the air reminded her of Harkrider’s clothes. But all she heard was silence.
She focused again on the dimmer switch on the wall. Before she could change her mind, she pushed the switch with her palm and ran into the cell. Light showered down from the ceiling and flooded the room. Instantly she knew the room was empty. No nun, no artist, no maniacal kidnapper with turpentine-stained clothes.
“They’re not here!” Hannah hoped Jolene had heard her, but it didn’t matter. Everywhere she looked she found evidence someone had been keeping Delacroix in this room. She noticed a slept-in bed, a mirror, a glass block window to nowhere, a sink, a toilet, and finally an art easel holding the most amazing painting she’d ever seen.
She almost fell back onto the bed when she looked at it. Only Delacroix could have painted this image. It was breathtaking in every way. Dark reds and browns dominated the edges of the canvas, depicting a deep tunnel or cavern. But the central figure was the star of the scene. A celestial body cast its light in all directions—bright and powerful, beautiful and pure and radiant in a way no one who looked at it could deny. The light contained every color on his palette and none of them all at the same time. Everything about the figure resonated with her on a cosmic level, and she started to laugh with joy. She couldn’t believe Delacroix had done it. He’d captured the essence of the Universe in a portrait.
“He is amazing,” Jolene said. She’d finally made it down the steps and stood in the doorway with her arms crossed.
“Yeah, but where the hell did he go?” Hannah ran to Jolene and grabbed her by the shoulders. “You said they’d be here, but they’re not. Where are they?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” She threw up her hands. “I need you to think really hard. I can’t search this whole vineyard by myself. You’ve got to help me.”
Even as Hannah spoke, she knew her words were useless. Jolene had retreated into herself again. Her stare was as blank as the moon, and her mouth hung open like she’d fallen asleep.
“Forget it. I’ll figure it out myself.” Hannah pushed her aside and ran through the short hallway, then up the steps. Back outside, the clear night sky awaited, and she opened her arms to embrace it. The light of the moon shone down on the vineyard, along with the glow from several planets and countless millions of stars.
She fell to her knees and bowed her head. They were so close now. But Delacroix and Sister Mary Elizabeth were still just out of reach. All she needed was one more sign to tell her where to look. She spread her fingers wide and brushed them across the blades of grass, lifted her chin, and stared into the stars. “Please show me where they are. I’m begging you.”
One last time, I flashed the image of the doors to the caves into her head. She stared at it for a second, then jumped to her feet. She ran back down the steps and found Jolene. Grabbed her, shook her until she had her attention. “Do you know a place with two large wooden doors set into a hill or a mountain?”
“You mean the caves?”
“Yeah, the caves.” Hannah remembered reading about them the night before. That was where the winery stored the fermenting barrels, the place where Donnie’s father was killed. “How do we get there?”
“Follow the fence line north about a quarter mile.”
“That’s where he took them. Let’s go.”
Hannah charged out of the underground cell and ran twenty yards before she realized she was running alone. When she turned, Jolene was standing near the trapdoor looking at her feet. “Come on. We’ve got to hurry,” Hannah said. But Jolene just shook her head.
“Don’t make me drag you.” She ran back to Jolene and grabbed her arm, but the woman wouldn’t budge.
“I can’t go.”
“Why not?”
Jolene gripped the screwdriver with both hands and twisted it like a pepper grinder. “I can’t face him again. It’s too much. I’ll just freeze or run away.”
Hannah knew she was right. She’d known from the moment she opened that door and saw Jolene’s face in the hallway. Harkrider had destroyed this woman from the inside out. It wasn’t fair to ask her to fight against the man who’d given her all those scars and bruises.
Sirens and horns sounded in the valley below, announcing the fire crew’s arrival.
“You can still help. Run back to the mansion. Grab some firefighters and cops and bring them to the caves.”
Jolene blinked. “Okay.”
“Like now,” Hannah said.
Jolene took off into the viney
ard, the hem of her dress bouncing with every step. She darted between two rows and disappeared. Hannah pulled out her knife and held it up to the moonlight. She turned it until it shimmered in her eyes. Then she ran north along the fence line toward her destiny.
CHAPTER 33
I’d never seen anyone as fearless as Hannah. She’d cut through a fence, broken into a third-story window, discovered a creepy skeleton, and chased a kidnapped woman through a dark vineyard just to save her. She’d burned down a mansion. Charged into an underground cell knowing she could have been overpowered by a man who enjoyed cutting and punching women. Now she raced toward that same danger again, even though the cops and firefighters would arrive only a few minutes behind her. She kept running because she knew these minutes mattered. She believed the Universe had led her to this place so she could play a key role in rescuing the world’s most talented living artist, as well as the friend she never knew she could have. I was glad she was on our side.
As fast as Hannah could run, I was much faster. I left her, soared through the bedrock of the Vaca Mountains and into the deepest section of the caves. The air was refrigerator cool and damp. Stark lights reflected off a bright red stain in the middle of the floor. Donnie’s blood was still wet and sticky, not yet absorbed into the spot where he’d committed his first murder.
The sound of hurried footsteps swept into the room. Sister Mary Elizabeth limped across the floor, her dress and her black leather shoes stained with dirt from the vineyard. Michael held her by the elbow, his shoulders in a constant hunch, doing everything he could to help her keep the pace Donnie demanded.
“Stop here,” Donnie said.
Michael guided the sister toward a rack against the far wall. He made sure she could lean comfortably against it. “Are you okay?”
“Nothing a minute of rest won’t cure.”
He didn’t believe her. Donnie had made them trek at least a quarter mile across the property to the cave entrance, then another hundred yards through a series of rack-lined chambers just like this one. Their path took so many turns he could never retrace it if he tried. Maybe that was the point, now that he thought about it. Sister Mary Elizabeth hadn’t taken the trip well. Her hair was drenched with sweat. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyelids were heavy, and her brow was pinched with worry. She’d found the red spot on the floor and wouldn’t stop staring at it. He dabbed her forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. It was dirty, but at least it was dry.
Donnie paced in a tight circle around the spot, mumbling something we couldn’t hear and pounding his fist into his hand. It wasn’t obvious to Michael, but I knew he was arguing with Cole.
“I know, I know. Just give me a minute to think,” Donnie said.
This time Michael spoke before I could stop him. “Think about what?”
“Shut up, Delacroix.” Donnie pulled out his knife and pointed the blade toward Sister Mary Elizabeth. “Or I’ll cut out her tongue. Then she’ll never lie again.”
More than his words, it was the look on Donnie’s face that scared Michael back into silence. Clearly Donnie was hearing voices, and those voices were pushing him toward doing something terrible. Worse, it looked like he was considering it.
“Shh.” Donnie spun toward the entrance. “She’s coming here? When?”
His words confused Michael, but I knew it was Cole sounding the alarm on Hannah. Donnie studied the ceiling and seemed to focus on the line of electrical conduit. “Is she alone? How far away?”
Michael’s heart raced. He assumed Donnie was talking about Jolene, knew he was asking that crazy voice in his head these questions so he could track her down and kill her. Something had to be done. Someone needed to stop this before it was too late.
Donnie ran to the edge of the room and wedged his foot into the corner of one of the rack supports. Using it as a foothold, he lunged upward and grabbed a conduit section hanging from the ceiling. He slashed at it with his knife, cutting through the plastic tubing and slicing at the wires. It sparked, popped, then all the lights went out.
Sister Mary Elizabeth screamed.
“Stay in this room.” Donnie switched on the small LED flashlight he’d stolen from Sister Mary Elizabeth and pointed it at Michael. “I’ll be back as soon as I take care of your friend.”
No time to weigh options. As soon as Donnie turned to leave, Michael rushed forward and tackled him to the ground. The flashlight fell and rolled into the next room. He punched, grabbed, pulled, and wrestled in the darkness as Donnie squirmed to get away.
I couldn’t just watch; I jumped into the fight. Donnie was stronger, but Michael was more determined. I tried to help him hold Donnie down. I swarmed around him, pushed against his flailing arms, squeezed with all of my strength. But it wasn’t any help. This was Michael’s battle to win or lose.
And then there was the knife. I couldn’t forget about the knife. At any moment it could end this fight.
Donnie twisted in his arms, but Michael squeezed tighter and wouldn’t let go. He’d never been in a fight before, didn’t know what he was doing. And neither did I.
Another body pushed against them, diving into the mix. Hands grabbing at anything they touched. Legs kicking, arms swinging in the darkness. Even I couldn’t tell who was where. I hoped the extra body wasn’t—
And then we heard it, a hot, wet sound. The sound of a blade sliding into flesh. Sister Mary Elizabeth screamed again, but not from fear or horror. Her scream was fueled by pure and intense pain. The piercing sound of her agony tore through Michael’s heart.
Michael released his grip. Donnie squirted free. Footsteps trailed through the passageway and receded into nothing. The only sound was Sister Mary Elizabeth’s rapid and shallow breathing. Donnie had run away. And he took the flashlight with him.
Michael reached into the darkness and found her lying on her back next to him. “Sister Mary, are you okay? Oh my God, no. Oh my God!”
I rushed to her side and found her wound. The knife had caught her in her torso just above her hip. I touched the same place on Michael’s side, and he immediately understood. His hand met hers, and they covered her wound together, neither of them able to see how bad it was.
“Michael,” she said. Her voice sounded much weaker now.
“I’m here.” He reached behind her neck and supported her head. “Tell me. What can I do?”
It was so dark. The kind of absolute darkness you can only experience inside a cave. Neither of them could see anything, so they used their other senses. Michael noticed Sister Mary Elizabeth’s hand was warm and wet. So were her clothes near where the knife had gone in. The air smelled bitter and metallic. She’d already lost a lot of blood.
“Run away,” she said. “Get out while you can.”
“I can’t leave you here.”
Sister Mary Elizabeth shivered. “I’ll be fine. The Father is with me now. He spoke to me. I heard His voice, I swear. I heard the voice of God.”
Michael knew she was probably going into shock, but there was nothing he could do. He held her close and tried to keep her comfortable.
“You need to go, Michael.”
“I’m not going anywhere. You’re all I’ve got in this world.”
“That’s not true.” Sister Mary Elizabeth hissed in her breath. “You’ve never been alone, not for a minute.”
She was dying. He just knew it. She clearly knew how much he needed her, that he’d be devastated when she died in his arms. This was how she was trying to cope, by reassuring him. Even with her last breaths, she seemed more concerned about how her wound affected him. He nodded, forgetting she couldn’t see him.
“When I found you that morning, you weren’t alone. I never told you, but there was another baby in that dumpster—your twin brother. He was covering you, protecting you from freezing. Sometime during the night, he lost his own life, but he never stopped protecting you.”
Neither Michael nor I could speak. There were no words.
“As you grew up, I made
sure you knew about your guardian angel. You call him your Keeper, but he’s so much more than that. He’s your brother, Michael. And he’ll always be with you.”
“My brother,” Michael said.
I couldn’t believe it. At the same time, I didn’t doubt a word of her story. Sister Mary Elizabeth would never lie to Michael, not about something this important. It was a secret she carried deep inside herself in a place so guarded even I couldn’t see it. Only now, when she thought her own death was near, did she decide to share it with us. It was a kindness I’d never be able to repay.
I was Michael’s brother. That explained everything.
We heard footsteps approaching. A narrow beam of light appeared, bouncing from wall to wall. Michael and Sister Mary Elizabeth tensed but didn’t move. Their only defense was to stay quiet.
The footsteps paused a few feet away, but the light kept moving in random patterns against each wall. Then came a whisper: “Hello? Is anybody there?”
“Hannah,” Sister Mary Elizabeth said. “We’re over here.”
CHAPTER 34
Michael hadn’t seen her since he slammed a taxi door in her face. But here she was, that blond reporter from Chicago who wouldn’t take no for an answer. It seemed more than impossible that she’d appear just when they needed her. He could only think of one explanation: his Keeper must have led her here.
“What’s wrong ?” she said.
“Donnie stabbed her. Quick, bring that light over here.”
Hannah shined her flashlight on Sister Mary Elizabeth’s wound. It was narrow but deep and flowing with dark red blood. “You’ll be fine, Sister. Just keep pressure on it.” She turned to Michael. “We need to get her out of here now.”
“How’d you get past him?” he said.