Even In Darkness--An American Murder Mystery Thriller

by Lynn Hightower

  ‘What are you trying to tell me?’ My mouth is very dry and I feel numb all over.

  ‘He’s not happy, OK? It wasn’t what he wanted to hear and it set him off. We think he’s on his way to kill them, which is why Russ is sending SWAT straight in. It escalates the situation, and it’s a hostage risk, but it looks like we’re going for broke.’

  I back up two steps and prop myself against the wall so that I can stay on my feet. ‘Straight in where? Where are they?’

  ‘He’s got them in a cave.’ Goodwin shakes his head and tightens his lips. ‘Makes perfect sense when you think about it, doesn’t it? The cave is outside a place called Wilmore—’

  I close my eyes. A cave. I should have thought of that.

  ‘Russ says it’s little over an hour’s drive away.’ Goodwin scratches his head and looks down the hallway. ‘Look, Joy, things are happening fast. Russ sent me out to get you, he wants you on hand when everything goes down. You should know I strongly advised him against it. I think if Purcell sees you, it could make things worse. He might be prone to killing Andee and Caroline in front of you, and I told Russ that. He said he’d keep you out of sight, but he still wants you there.’

  ‘No, no, I’m with him on that. I think I should be on hand, just in case. There’s no telling, anything could happen.’

  ‘Keep in mind, Joy, if you do get involved, Purcell is fixated on you. It’s risky as hell if Russ takes you off the sidelines.’

  ‘Do you think I care? I want my girls. I’ll do anything to get them back safe.’

  ‘OK then. Don’t say you weren’t warned.’ He looks at his watch. ‘Grab what you need and come now. We’re already on the clock.’

  I snatch up my Keds. The socks I had on yesterday are still stuffed inside. Goodwin is out the door ahead of me, and I follow, letting it swing closed behind. I hear the latch click into place. Goodwin is already halfway down the side staircase, and I have to run to catch up. I think I hear the phone in my room. No doubt the driver for the Sanctuary Group is waiting for me downstairs.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Goodwin’s rental is a white Ford Contour. He drives with cool, expert steadiness – aggressive, but by the letter of the law. It is awkward, putting my socks and Keds on. It is cold and I don’t have a jacket. I’m wishing I had not bothered to wrestle these pantyhose on.

  My stomach flutters with nerves. I sit forward in my seat, mentally cursing every other car on the road. It is not quite six p.m. and we’re catching the final brunt of the after-work traffic. I want to go faster. I dig my fingernails into my palms. I feel the tedious passing of each and every second, lagging behind the thud of my heart.

  ‘Where is this cave again?’ I sound out of breath. ‘Somewhere in Wilmore, is that what you said?’

  ‘You’ve heard of Highbridge Springs Water?’ he asks. ‘They’re being held in the cave at High Bridge.’

  I clench my fists. I am remembering what Caro said on the web cam. How quiet everything was. How it seemed oddly muffled. How it smelled like a basement.

  ‘It seems obvious, now, doesn’t it? Now that we know for sure. What do you know about this place, Joy, have you ever been out there?’

  ‘I drink their water, that’s about all. And I went up there once or twice, to High Bridge itself, when I was in my teens. It’s a local rite of passage.’

  ‘Is there even a bridge up there?’

  ‘Yeah, a railroad bridge. On the top of the mountain, overlooking the river. I don’t know about now, but it used to be the highest railroad bridge in the world, somewhere around two hundred eighty to three hundred feet. It was built over a deep gorge between Jessamine and Mercer County. People get killed up there every year. It’s a big deal to go out on the bridge.’

  He gives me a quick sideways look. ‘And did you?’

  ‘I’m afraid of heights. I never knew there was a cave.’

  ‘Russ says it’s huge. The spring is actually inside the cave, and the company bottles the water right there. The manufacturing operation and the business offices are all inside the cave. That’s how Purcell did the broadcast on the web cam. He piggybacked on to their high speed wireless.’

  ‘But where in the cave does he have them? Andee said they have a bathroom and—’

  ‘Caroline said on the web cast that they were in some kind of RV.’

  ‘How is that possible? Are you saying Purcell just drove one into the cave and parked it and nobody who works there noticed it?’

  Goodwin gives me a little half smile. ‘The cave is a monster. Thirty acres, one million square feet of usable space, not counting God knows how many miles of passageways, and five miles of road. The owner blasted it out and shored it up, and one thing he’s got is space. They actually run two businesses out there – the water operation and Kentucky Underground Storage.’

  ‘Are you telling me they store RVs?’

  ‘RVs, cars, boats, library records, legal files. The University of Kentucky is one of their biggest customers. They’re even storing the governor’s furniture.’

  I chew the tip of my finger. I’m thinking of miles and miles of pitch dark and crisscrossing passageways.

  ‘So even if Caro and Andee got out of the RV, they’d never find their way out of the cave.’

  ‘There is method to the madness,’ Goodwin says.

  ‘Just when you think it can’t get any worse,’ I mutter.

  Goodwin flicks on the blinker. ‘Sorry, but we’re going to need to stop.’

  He pulls into a left turn lane across from a Pilot station. We’ve made our way through the Lexington traffic and gotten tangled up in the slow-moving treacle on the outskirts of Nicholasville.

  ‘Out of gas?’

  ‘No, but we could be later. We’ll be hitting the back roads in a few miles and I’m not so sure of the way. I don’t want to take a risk.’

  I rub my forehead, but he’s right. Once we get into the countryside, there won’t be many places to stop.

  ‘I have a sweater in the trunk of the car, you want it? I didn’t give you time to grab a jacket, and it’s already starting to get cool.’

  ‘Yeah, thanks, I do.’

  The Pilot station is slammed this time of the day and it takes some maneuvering to find an available pump. Goodwin pops the trunk open with a button under the dash, and I get out and head around back. He goes around on the other side, and gets there ahead of me. I see him freeze, then grab a bundle of yellow and slam down the lid.

  My body is alive with adrenalin and my senses have expanded. My glimpse of the trunk interior was nothing more than a momentary flash. One oversized suitcase of some nubby brown material, two black leather cases, a navy blue overnight bag and a bright red gasoline can, shiny and new.

  I focus on acting nonchalant as I slip the sweater over my head. It is a soft knit, butter yellow, and warm. I can’t look any weirder, in an oversized man’s yellow sweater, a black silk dress, my socks and my Keds. People are staring, but that’s good. I want them to notice me and remember I was there. I want them to be able to describe me and Goodwin in detail.

  ‘Going to hit the ladies’ room,’ I say.

  I am aware of each step I take, and each breath as it goes in and out. The world is louder and brighter, and I am alive to every smell and noise. It takes discipline not to look over my shoulder at Goodwin. I feel a compulsion to know if he is watching me. It is best to assume he is. I step up on the curb at the doorway, feeling a certain relief. Even more when the door shuts behind me and I’m inside.

  I glance at the cashier behind the counter. Young, skinny, overwhelmed with customers. The women’s restroom is occupied and I wait, thinking furiously, shifting my weight from foot to foot. The bathroom knob turns at last, and a woman and a small boy ease their agonizingly slow way out. I slip in and flip the lock.

  I stand with my back to the door. Goodwin is packed and ready to leave, that much is clear. And the rental car license plate says Kentucky, which makes no sense if he drove in f
rom Chicago like he said, and why didn’t he drive his own car? Then there’s the gas can, brand new, tucked in with all that nice luggage – and why so much luggage for a quick few days out of town to consult? And why the gas can, unless he burned down my house?

  I fumble through my purse for my cell phone and sit on the toilet to make my call. The phone battery is charged and there are four bars of service. I rummage in my purse for a pen and an old receipt, tap my foot while the four-one-one information operator gives me the number I need, then dial.

  ‘Abbey of Gethsemani.’

  It is an emergency, I say, and tell them my name. I assure them that Father Panatel knows me. I tell them I must speak to him immediately on a matter of life and death. I wait for my words to sink in.

  The man on the other end finally speaks. ‘Your name is somewhat familiar.’

  ‘I had an appointment with Father Panatel Tuesday of last week.’

  ‘Right. I remember that.’ I can hear a change in his voice. ‘Will you wait just a few moments while I find him?’

  ‘Yes, but hurry.’ I try not to think while I’m waiting, till I hear the voice on the other end. But I don’t have the kind of mind that turns off.

  ‘Joy Miller, I have Father Panatel for you.’

  There is a click as I thank him. Then a man says hello.

  ‘Father Panatel. It is you, Father?’

  ‘But yes, dear lady, this is me.’

  ‘I need to ask you – I need you to think. This man we talked about, when I was there the other day?’

  ‘Yes, missus, this one you call dark.’

  ‘Can you remember what he looked like? Can you describe him to me?’

  There is a silence. ‘It’s been so long with the years that have passed.’

  I prop my elbow on my knees with my head in my hand, palm plastered across my forehead. ‘Think, please think. Anything at all you remember.’

  ‘He is a large man, this I do recall, maybe sixty pounds of extra weight. Still, there is a physical grace. Also that I am first confused when you would call him this dark man. His hair was a red sort of blond, to my memory, and at first I wonder why you call him dark. But I decide on thought you are referring to his essence, and the energy of the soul that is lost.’

  His words confirm what I already know, but the ceiling is suddenly spinning over my head, as if I’ve had too much to drink.

  ‘You are there, Joy Miller? This is the one you call dark?’

  ‘Yes, Father.’

  ‘Dear lady, I think you are very much troubled. I am worrying, yes, very much, I am worrying for you.’

  ‘Yes, Father, I’m worrying for me too.’

  ‘Tell me what I must do for you, dear lady. You sound in need of assistance.’

  ‘I’m not sure. No … yes.’ I try to think. ‘Would you please call the FBI office in Lexington, and ask for Agent Russell Woods?’

  ‘Of course, dear lady, and I think this be a good idea. Let me for a moment get a pen. Yes, now, Agent Russell Woods.’

  ‘Tell him that you talked to me. That I’m in a car with the kidnapper on my way to the cave at Highbridge Springs. I’m going to call Woods myself, but I want you to call him too, so he understands that there are two of us who’ve seen this man and know who he is. Tell him that the kidnapper is driving a white Ford Contour, a rental, with Kentucky plates.’

  ‘You are alone with this him then, dear lady? This man you call the kidnapper—’

  ‘It’s him. The one we spoke of. I’m going to the cave with him. Or I’m thinking about it. I’m not sure what to do, to tell you the truth.’

  ‘You must not do this, Joy Miller.’

  ‘He’s kidnapped my granddaughter, Father Panatel. If I can get him to take me to her, then maybe I can bring her home safe.’

  ‘Remind your head, please, Joy Miller, what is happening with the postulate Sandbone, who tried to help this man.’

  ‘My head doesn’t need reminding, Father Panatel. I know exactly who he is.’

  ‘Listen, please, to what I am saying here, missus. It is not in your power to change the Dark Entity. That can only come from God.’

  I don’t take the time to respond. I have another call to make.

  I take a business card out of my wallet. The dispatch operator at the firehouse answers and I ask to be put through to Captain Reinhardt. He is quick to the phone.

  ‘What’s wrong, Joy? You sound unglued.’

  ‘You know how I told you I couldn’t have dinner last night? Because I was working on something with the FBI consultant?’

  ‘Goodwin, yeah. How did it go?’

  ‘Not so good. I’m with him now. Only he’s not an FBI consultant after all. He’s one of the kidnappers.’

  There is a moment while Hal takes it all in. ‘Can he hear you?’

  ‘I’m in the ladies’ room. At a Pilot station. We’re in Nicholasville, on our way to Highbridge Springs.’

  ‘But how—’

  I explain, ending with the gas can in the rental car. ‘I think he’s the one who burned down my house.’

  ‘I won’t second guess you on this, Joy. Have you called Russell Woods?’

  ‘He’s next on the list.’

  ‘You’ll stay right there. In the bathroom, right? You won’t move till Woods gets to you, do you promise?’

  ‘Hal, he’ll take me to the girls if I play this right.’

  ‘You’ll be another hostage. Call Woods and let him handle this, Joy. Going anywhere with this guy would be completely insane.’

  ‘Woods is as unpredictable as the kidnappers, Hal. I don’t like leaving everything up to him.’

  ‘What makes you so sure this guy is taking you to the girls? And, Joy, I’m sorry, but what makes you so sure they’re still alive? Don’t make this any worse than it is. Let Woods handle it. Promise me.’

  ‘I don’t want to go with him. But I don’t want the girls to die because I’m a coward.’

  ‘You’re too involved in this, you’re not thinking straight. Trust me. Call Woods. I’ll call him as well. And then I’ll be right behind him. Just stay in the bathroom, OK?’

  I shut my eyes tight. Take a breath. Remind myself that a sociopath tells you what you want to hear because it is so effective.

  ‘You’re right. You’re right. OK.’

  I hear Hal’s sigh of relief as I break the connection.

  Woods answers on the first ring. He has agents at Spindletop, sure that the kidnapper will be one of the faces in the crowd. He wants to know where I am.

  ‘Agent Woods, do you work with a forensic consultant named Jonathan Goodwin?’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘I’ve met him.’

  ‘No you haven’t. Goodwin has been in Singapore the last three weeks.’

  ‘I’ve met a man who says he’s Goodwin, Agent Woods. But I think he’s one of the kidnappers. You figured that out already, right? There are two?’

  ‘Where are you?’

  I explain for the third time while my cell battery begins to run down.

  Woods is professional and quick on the uptake, and for once the two of us are in sync. He gives me the same advice Hal did. Stay in the bathroom. Leave the cell phone on.

  ‘And Joy. If he tries to get you out of there – and he may – scream your head off. Don’t go out, don’t talk to him through the door, whatever threats he makes, ignore them. He’s tricky and he’s smart. If you go back out to him you’ll only make things worse, and he’ll have three hostages instead of two. Go with him and you’re lost. You get me?’

  ‘I get you.’

  I hear him giving instructions, voices in the background. I feel better. I’m not so alone.

  ‘Stay as calm as you can, Joy. I’ve got people on the way.’

  As soon as I hang up, another call comes through. It’s a blocked call, and I answer immediately, thinking it will be Hal.

  ‘Hello, Joy. It’s Johnny Goodwin.’ I recognize the voice. The Dark Man. ‘Joy,
I need you to do something for me. For Andee, really. I know you’re calling in the cavalry. That’s OK. I’m not mad.

  ‘Please understand that if you don’t come out right now and get in the car with me to go get your girls, I’ll make a call to my partner and you’ll never see them again. Cletus has to be handled carefully, Joy. He doesn’t leave witnesses. You met him, years ago, in Wal-Mart. You don’t want him cutting his losses and moving on.’

  THIRTY-FIVE

  I hesitate in the doorway of the Pilot station. I don’t see Goodwin’s car at the pump. But then I spot it. He’s parked it by the propane tanks, but I don’t see Goodwin inside.

  ‘Did Woods tell you not to come out of the bathroom?’

  Goodwin’s voice. He is right behind me.

  People are getting off work and the Pilot station is a hive of activity. There are people all around. Goodwin puts one hand on my elbow and the other on my shoulder and guides me, smiling, to the car.

  He opens the door, tucking me in like a child at bedtime. He is even going to fasten my seatbelt, but I push his hand away. He trots smartly around the back of the car, and in the time it takes me to think about running again he is settled into the driver’s seat and putting the key in the ignition.

  We are quiet, but soaked in tension. He catches a green light and pulls out of the Pilot station, driving effortlessly, a man without nerves.

  ‘The trunk,’ he says finally, with a long drawn out sigh.

  ‘You have a gas can in there. A new one. You used it to burn down my house.’

  ‘That was Purcell, not me, and he was supposed to have gotten rid of it.’ He shakes his head. ‘I always let my guard down, around you.’

  ‘So you’re not Purcell. You’re not Goodwin. And you’re not the man I saw on the web cast.’

  ‘I’d like your cell phone, if you’d pass it this way.’

  ‘I don’t have it with me. We left in a hurry, remember?’

  He snatches my purse, pushes the button to unroll his window and throws it out on the road.