Time Search

by Danele J Rotharmel

  Partway through her song, he noticed tears pooling in her eyes. Getting to his feet, he knelt in front of the TV. He touched the screen gently, wishing he could brush away her tears. A lump rose in his throat. He felt a deep connection to her that he didn’t understand.

  Her final note rose and fell. There was a moment of silence and then applause thundered through the concert hall. Andrew flinched at the sound, feeling as if he were being jerked back to cold reality after being engulfed in a warm, wonderful dream. Brushing a shaking hand across his face, he waited eagerly for the credits.

  I have to know her name.

  He didn’t know if he could manage to contact her, but he wanted to try. He no longer cared that she was in another country. He needed to reach out to her.

  The credits began to roll. Andrew waited with bated breath.

  Without warning, the electricity went out. Blackness rushed in and surrounded him. Andrew stared at the blank screen in stunned disbelief. Swallowing disappointment, he stood to his feet.

  Looking out the window, he realized the streetlights were still burning. His home was the only one without power. Even as the thought of a blown breaker crossed his mind, his bodyguards rushed into the room.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Someone’s penetrated the perimeter fence and cut the power.”

  “Where’s Jess?” he demanded as agents surrounded him and hustled him into the hall.

  “Ruthford’s taking her to the safe room. This way, sir. We need to move.”

  ~*~

  Peter smiled as he entered the living room. It had been transformed into a dreamland of twinkling, white lights and silk roses.

  “Like it?” Laura asked, tipping her face up for a kiss.

  “Love it,” he replied, lowering his lips to hers.

  He felt Dan’s hands separating them. “Enough of that.” Dan grinned. “You’ll have plenty of time for canoodling on your honeymoon. It’s time for your bachelor party.”

  Laura raised an eyebrow. “Pretty short notice for a party.”

  “No shorter than for a wedding.” Dan chuckled. “Peter gave me my bachelor party, and I plan on returning the favor. Poppa’s brought all the supplies. We’re only missing one element.”

  “Strippers?” Gil asked.

  Dan’s jaw dropped. His face turned fiery red. “Gillyflower Meadowlark Deleena Rosemarie! Just what do you mean by that remark? How on earth would any of us even know where to find a stripper? And do you honestly think that would be our idea of fun? I meant bowling.”

  Giving a bubbling laugh, Gil kissed her husband’s blushing cheek. “Oh, Dan, you’re so much fun to tease. I have absolute confidence that if you came across a stripper you’d run the other way. I just like to make you blush.”

  “So, what’s on your party agenda?” Laura asked.

  Dan’s cheeks were still red. He mumbled self-consciously, “Lots of indigestible junk food, soda pop, cards, and a marathon of martial arts movies and Three Stooges episodes.” He tugged at his collar. “It may not be risqué, but I guarantee it’ll be lots of fun.”

  “It sounds perfect.” Laura smiled. “Just don’t keep Peter up too late. Tomorrow’s a big day.”

  “We have to stay up past 2:00 AM,” Peter protested.

  “And why is that?” she asked.

  “Because Sam gets punchy tired after 2:00 AM, and he and Dan start reenacting fight scenes from Kung Fu movies. You’ve never seen anything more hilarious than those two doing a slow-motion action sequence. At Dan’s bachelor party, I thought I was going to die when they got into it. I laughed so hard, I couldn’t breathe.”

  Sam chuckled. “I promise to do you proud, Pete.” He crouched into a forward leading stance and threw a few exaggerated punches.

  Sue kissed Sam’s forehead. “Have a good time, you big goofball. Just go easy on the tortilla chips and salsa. I don’t want you popping antacids all night.” She motioned for the ladies to leave the room. “Let’s let these overgrown adolescents have their fun.”

  “Yes, let’s,” Twinkles said. “Besides, it’s time for Laura’s shower. I’ve bought her the most ravishing negligees.”

  Peter’s lips twitched into a grin as he started to follow the women out of the room. “Sorry, fellas, but I’m going to the ladies’ party instead.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t!” Twinkles said, shoving him back toward the men. “Our party is strictly for girls only. You go listen to your precious Stooges go ‘nyuk-nyuk-nyuk,’ and ‘ngah-ngah-ngah,’ and ‘poifect.’” Twinkles turned to Sue. “I think the guys like Larry, Curly, and Moe because of their vocabulary. As you know, men’s verbal skills aren’t always the best, the poor dears.”

  As the men laughed, Peter gave her a mischievous grin. “Twinkles, are you sure I can’t come with you?”

  As Twinkles gave him another playful shove, Laura skipped to his side and whispered in his ear, “Be patient, love. I’ll model the negligees for you on our honeymoon.” Giggling, she nibbled his earlobe.

  “Now, now,” Twinkles said in a bustling voice, grabbing Laura’s hand and pulling her away. “Enough of that. Like Dan says, there will be plenty of time for canoodling after you two are married. We need to get the parties started. I’ve already dipped the ice cream, and it’s gonna melt into mushy puddles if you two start carrying on.”

  ~*~

  Agent Ruthford knocked briefly on Jessica’s bedroom door before rushing toward her bed. In the darkness, he could see her lying on her back, looking out the window.

  “Miss Hamilton,” he said, plucking a quilt from her wheelchair, “I’m sorry to bother you, but there’s been an incident. I need to take you to the safe room.”

  Jessica turned slowly from the window. The despair on her face made her eyes look like black holes of misery.

  Ruthford caught his breath in pity. Putting an arm gently around her shoulders, he raised her from the pillows. “Are you in pain?” he asked softly.

  She didn’t respond.

  Wrapping the quilt around her, he picked her up carefully. She felt like thistledown in his arms. Feeling the sharp, jutted edges of her bones, he knew she wasn’t eating properly.

  Jessica’s head lolled limply on his shoulder. He could sense her hopelessness. Even though her body was physically alive, it was as if her spirit was already dead and buried beneath six solid feet of earth.

  Tightening his arms around her, he held her close and sprinted down the hall.

  ~*~

  Crystal was grinning widely as she prepared for bed. The memory of Marc trying to shimmy had her in stitches. Feeling positively giddy, she picked up her teddy bear and twirled around the room.

  Her happy mood lasted until she tried to find a nightgown. Her washing machine was still on the blink, and although she’d managed to hit a laundromat, her constant nightmares had taken a renewed toll on her stock of pajamas. Rifling through her drawers, she finally came across a white nightgown with a lacy bodice and a voluminous, silky skirt.

  She grimaced. The garment was lovely, but it was very impractical. No matter how much fabric softener she used, the skirt insisted on clinging to her legs, and she hated static cling. Wrinkling her nose, she slipped it on.

  Crawling into bed, she groaned. The wretched garment was already sticking to her legs.

  ~*~

  A little before midnight, Phoebe cautiously opened her bedroom door. She was sure that Alex was asleep, and she had to have something to eat. She peeked over at his bedroom. His door was open, as always, so he could hear if she called out during the night. She bit her lip, knowing that she’d have to be very quiet.

  Her stomach rumbled loudly.

  Pressing her hand to her middle, she tried to stifle the sound. Silently, she slid toward the kitchen, trying to avoid squeaking floorboards. The fire in the fireplace had burned down to glowing ashes. The house was full of shadow. The faint smell of Alex’s cologne was still lingering in the air.

  Suddenly, a hoarse,
ragged voice came from the sofa. “I left you a plate of food in the fridge.”

  Phoebe froze and peered over at the shadows. She couldn’t see Alex, but she knew he was there in the darkness. She hesitated. The pain in his voice was obvious. She took a step toward him, wanting nothing more than to feel his arms around her. She wanted to tell him that she’d been mistaken, that she knew he’d never conspire against her. As she took another step forward, she remembered Drake’s gloating as he tormented her. She remembered her own fear and pain. She remembered that it didn’t have to happen, and remembering that, she turned away.

  On the kitchen counter, Alex had a tray ready for her use. A single daisy was resting on a napkin. She took the wilted flower and threw it to the floor. Opening the fridge, she grabbed her plate of food and a glass of milk. Balancing the tray, she went back to her bedroom and slammed the door.

  ~*~

  In the shadows, Alex raised fists to his eyes and tried to control his tattered breathing. He didn’t know how to help her. He didn’t know how to help himself. He’d never realized that loving someone could bring him so much pain.

  26

  June 13, 2:16 AM

  Number One Observatory Circle—Official Residence of

  the Vice President

  United States Naval Observatory, Washington D.C.

  Andrew stared at the clock. It was past 2:00 AM. The “all clear” had been given, and Jessica was back in bed. He paced the floor—his desire for sleep had fled. He couldn’t rest until Agent Ruthford gave him an update.

  Almost as if he’d conjured him with his thoughts, Ruthford entered the room.

  “What happened?” Andrew said, trying to keep his concern from showing.

  “It was Drake, sir,” Ruthford replied. “We found a photograph taped to the front door.”

  Andrew’s eyes jerked to the agent’s face. “What kind of photo?”

  Ruthford handed it to him.

  Andrew’s heart lurched. It was a picture of Jessica taken with a telescopic lens. She was sitting in her wheelchair, looking out her bedroom window. On the back of the photo was a message, Back off or little sis will be missing more than a leg.

  Andrew’s breath caught. “We need to increase Jessica’s security detail.”

  “Already done.”

  “Should she be moved?”

  “Not at present,” Ruthford replied. “Regardless of what happened tonight, this house is a secure location.”

  Andrew nodded. He felt his fear turning into angry determination. “If Drake is telling me to back off, you must be closing in and disrupting his plans.”

  “That’s what I think, sir.”

  Andrew clenched his hands. “If Drake thinks I’m calling you off, he’s sadly mistaken. I want even more agents assigned to tracking him down.” He peered over at Ruthford. “I also want additional agents assigned to Jess. Whatever you think is adequate, double it.”

  ~*~

  In Rome, the sun was dawning brightly over Angelina’s last day in Europe. Yawning behind her hand, she took an elevator down to the hotel lobby where Karl was waiting.

  Approaching him with a smile, she said, “Last day abroad. Let’s make it a good one. We have two more ‘Alex’ tasks to complete. Where are we going first?”

  “I thought we’d tackle the Capuchin Crypt,” he replied.

  “Lovely,” she exclaimed, looking out a window at the sparkling day. “I can’t wait to see the artwork.”

  Karl laughed. “I’m going to remind you of that once we get there.”

  Angelina’s forehead furrowed. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Nothing,” Karl said with twinkling eyes. “Stay in ignorance as long as you can.”

  ~*~

  Crystal could feel herself burning. Out of the inferno of flames, a man engulfed in fire walked toward her. She was on the floor of the file room gasping against the heat. Her skin was melting away. Her bones were turning black. The man of fire bent over and kissed her. She shuddered and cringed. She could feel the heat of his lips. She could feel his breath against her skin. He caressed her neck with a finger made of steel. His touch was cold.

  As she lay flinching, trying to peer through the waves of flame, she felt his hands—rough and brutal. Suddenly, she knew she was trapped in a dream. She had to wake up. She fought against her nightmare, trying to break free. Over and over, she tried to open her eyes, but they remained shut.

  As she struggled, the flames of the file room faded, but the man of fire did not. He was still standing over her. He kissed her again. Once more, she felt his breath and the cold, sharp bite of his steel finger against her throat. Her mind screamed in horror. She fought hard against the dream...

  With a sharp scream, Crystal wrenched herself awake, blinking against the darkness. Her fumbling fingers felt for her lamp and turned it on. As light chased the darkness away, she saw that her blankets and sheet had been tossed over the baseboard of her bed. Sitting up, she drew her knees to her chest and trembled. Even though she knew it had just been a dream, it had felt so real.

  ~*~

  When Angelina descended the stairs of Santa Maria della Immacolata Concenzione Church and entered the Capuchin Crypt, she blinked her eyes in astonished horror and then closed them firmly.

  “What in the world is this?” she demanded in a suffocated voice.

  Karl chuckled. “This is the final resting place of 4,000 Capuchin monks. The soil here was originally brought from Jerusalem, making this a very desirable burial ground. Unfortunately, the small space didn’t allow for the monks’ remains to be interred in a traditional fashion, so the gravediggers improvised.” He chuckled again. “Hey, you said you wanted to see spectacular artwork.”

  Groaning, she opened one eye. “I meant murals and painted ceilings, not bones arranged artistically.”

  “Art is art,” he said.

  “There’s something seriously wrong with that statement,” she muttered.

  Angelina peeked cautiously around. Monkish remains were adorning the walls in fantastic patterns. From floor to ceiling, skulls and bones were arranged in sweeping swirls. The display of bones was fascinating in a horrible, chilling way, but it was also incredibly gruesome.

  With her feet planted firmly on the threshold, she grimaced. “Alex was laughing up his sleeve when he put this task on the list. No wonder he didn’t ask me to tour the Tower of London. The Capuchin Crypt makes torture devices seem like buttercups and rainbows.”

  “You can say that again,” Karl agreed.

  Still not willing to set a single toenail over the threshold, Angelina said, “That rascally brother of mine. Honestly. The only word that can describe this moment is touché. I’ll have to come up with a clever way to get him back. I might even enlist my father’s conniving brain to help me even the score.”

  Karl motioned toward the crypt. “Coming?”

  Wincing, she shook her head. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “Come on,” he coaxed. “Give it a chance.”

  Her feet refused to move. “Do I have to?”

  “Do you want to tell Alex that you chickened out?”

  Angelina shot Karl a withering glare.

  He grinned and winked.

  “OK.” She shivered. “To finish my list, I’ll walk through. But I’m keeping my eyes closed. It’ll be up to you to see that I don’t brain myself or run into anything creepy.”

  Putting his arm around her waist, Karl gave her a squeeze. “Remind me to treat Alex to a steak dinner the next time I see him.”

  Angelina resisted the impulse to kick his shin.

  “Don’t worry about a thing,” Karl said with a smirk. “I’ll protect you. Remember how big and reassuring I can be.”

  “Cut the malarkey,” she muttered, closing her eyes. “Just make sure I don’t touch any ghastly bones.”

  “Your wish is my command.” Karl laughed. “Are you ready?”

  Trying to control her racing heart, Angelina nodded.
Holding her breath as much as possible and keeping her eyes closed most of the time, she moved with Karl through the various rooms. Without speaking, they passed through the Crypt of the Skulls and the Crypt of the Pelvises. After a while, the various chapels became a gruesome blur as Angelina’s mind screamed in horror.

  In the last chapel, Angelina caught a glimpse of a sign that read, As you are, we once were. As we are, you will someday be.

  Shuddering, she whispered, “I’ve never read a more appropriate carpe diem message, but I can’t stand much more of this. Get me out of here, Karl. And get me out of here fast.”

  “As you wish,” he murmured with a barely concealed chuckle.

  She glanced his way. He was smiling as he pulled her closer and guided her through the room. She could tell he was getting a real kick out of the whole thing. Closing her eyes against the bones, she decided that she didn’t care.

  As they started for the door, Karl whispered in her ear, “Forget steak. Alex deserves lobster.”

  Angelina didn’t reply to his teasing words. She couldn’t reply. For some reason, she felt as if she were suffocating. When she finally broke free of the church and was once again in the open air of the street, she took a deep breath—reveling in the feeling of her lungs expanding. She took another deep breath. Her whole body felt greedy for oxygen. It felt wonderful to breathe. It felt wonderful to be alive.

  As she stood contemplating the sunshine on her face, she felt the ghostly echo of thousands of monkish voices, As you are, we once were. As we are, you will someday be. She knew it was true. She also hoped it wouldn’t be true in her case for a long time. She loved life.

  It surprised her how much the crypt had bothered her. As the wind ruffled her hair, she analyzed her feelings. She wasn’t afraid of death. Death was just the doorway to the afterlife. Jesus was her Savior, and she was looking forward to Heaven. But she had to admit that she didn’t like the idea of dying. Dying usually meant pain, and she was already too well acquainted with pain to want anything more to do with it.

  Looking up at the blue sky, she took another deep breath to steady her nerves. She’d been close to death before, and with the threat against her life, it was possible that she’d be close to it again. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Maybe her tour of the crypt had been a good thing. It had definitely reminded her that earthly life was temporary and fragile. When she did die, she didn’t want to die with regrets. She needed to make the most of every moment.