Too exhausted to eat, she lay down and closed her eyes, hoping for a dream to take her away from all the misery. She slipped into a shallow sleep for a couple of hours, her body fidgeting as she twitched in and out of consciousness. She lifted her head several times wondering if the silence would ever give her peace.
The silence did not last long.
“Where are you, woman?” yelled Marcus from downstairs. He slammed several cups against the wall. Leah scurried up the stairs to the roof.
The rain continued to saturate the area as she stood at the edge, the same place from where Elizabeth fell.
She stared down at the ground. Will this be my final resting place?
“How did it feel to bury the woman?” Marcus shouted. “Did she cry before she died?” He laughed.
Rage ripped through Leah as she spun around to see him step up onto the roof. She noticed the dried blood on his face and leg.
Marcus pointed his sword straight ahead. “This is familiar. Jump off the roof and save yourself a bloody, slow death.”
She moved a few steps to the left, maintaining a slight balance by putting her right hand down.
He bared yellow teeth, twisting his face in cruel ugliness. “You can try to get away. I will chase you until your last drop of blood falls from my sword.”
She staggered, trying to get to the lowest part of the roof, the place where she and Michael sat that night watching the stars. She felt Elizabeth’s cross in her pocket.
Marcus rushed her and picked her up by the back of her hair. “Meet your God.”
She pulled the cross from her pocket and swung, gouging his eye. He stumbled backwards. “How dare you!” he shouted, covering his face.
Leah regained her footing as she ran several steps back to the higher part of the roof.
Marcus wielded his sword and hoisted it high.
Crack.
His eyes glazed and his body stiffened as a stone struck him. He fell face first into the roof’s concrete.
“Run, Leah, run!” shouted a man.
Calev?
She looked down and saw another man standing next to him, waving at her. “Come quickly,” he yelled.
Both men ran into her house and up the ladder. The soldier’s sword lay by his side. “Leah, come with us, quickly,” Calev urged.
“I will not run anymore,” she said, clutching her chest to catch her breath. “Sometimes one must remove evil the only way possible.”
Marcus rolled over and glanced up at her. “You will not kill me. You are weak like the other woman. I am a Roman. Others will hunt you down if you kill me. I know where your brother has gone. He is in Galilee. I have told other soldiers where he is.” His grin formed the figure of a snake. “Leave us. This is none of your business,” he said to Calev and his friend. “Leah, go downstairs. I will join you. We will be together again like before. It is too bad the other woman could not be with us too.”
Calev pulled on her arm. “Come now, before it is too late.”
She pushed him away.
“You will never be with me again.” She picked up the Roman’s sword with both hands and held it high over her head. “You have no God.”
She rammed it straight into Marcus’ chest.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The next morning Michael heard the shower being turned off and drawers opening and closing. He went to the bottom of the stairs and yelled up, “Susan, can you step it up a little?”
“What was that?” she shouted.
He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Can I help you with anything? We need to get going.”
“I’m moving as fast as I can.”
Not fast enough.
He grabbed his sneakers from the corner in the hallway, slipped them on, not even tying the laces. Now in a hyped up mood, he was ready to see what was written in the book.
What if Dennis doesn’t let me see it? He’s never allowed me to read the book. Maybe there’s something terrible in there that he doesn’t want me to read.
He sat on the bottom step and took deep breaths to calm himself. “Come on Susan,” he yelled. “Let’s go.”
“I’m coming. Did you forget I arrived in the middle of the night after a long drive?”
He paced back and forth. “I know.” He took a few more steps, opened the door and stared out at the street. “Seems like I’m always waiting for women in my life,” he mumbled.
“What women are you referring to?” asked Susan from the top of the stairs.
“Right now, you.”
She hurried down the stairs and faced him. “You can be such an ingrate.”
“Excuse me?”
She shouldered past him into the kitchen. “You heard me. I rush down here to be by your side, you bounce me around like an emotional ping pong ball and now you bust my chops over a stinking few minutes.”
“I don’t have a few minutes. Don’t you get it? You know what, take a hike. I’ll walk. I don’t have time for your pity party.”
She stopped rummaging through her bag. Before Michael could take a step out the front door, Susan yanked his arm. “Pity party? How many hours have I spent on the phone with you at night listening to your problems? Listening to you go on and on about your guilt? Then trying to dump a stinking guilt trip on me for leaving Northport.”
Poking him in the shoulder with her index finger, she continued, “The endless crying sessions I’ve had to endure about why no one buys your book.” Her face turned a bright shade of pink. “You’ve got some nerve. If this was my house, I’d kick you to the curb.”
She slapped him in the face.
Michael backed away, holding his left cheek.
Without another word she walked outside.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
After a silent ride to the church, Michael and Susan found Dennis sitting behind his desk, turning the pages in the old book. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair ruffled and his hand gripped a styrofoam cup filled with black coffee. Several empty cups topped his waste paper basket. He pulled at his sleeve, revealing a tattoo. Never forget Dec 25th.
He always keeps things in perspective, Michael thought. “Hey, Dennis,” he said. “You look beat.”
“I never made it to bed.” Dennis gestured to the two chairs across from his desk. “Have a seat.” He nodded at Susan. “I haven’t seen you in a while. Have you joined another church?”
“I moved to Massachusetts,” she answered in a cold tone.
“Good to see you.” Dennis took a long draw from his coffee cup. “You look as tired as I feel.”
He looked at Michael. “Any word from Elizabeth?”
“No.”
Dennis closed the book and leaned back in his chair. “Anyway, I’ve re-read this book twice.”
“Find anything useful?” Michael asked.
Dennis rubbed his eyes, pushing his reading glasses to the tip of his nose. “There were a few miracles and strange happenings that have supposedly occurred in this church.” He yawned. “That is, if we believe the previous pastors who documented these cases.”
Michael leaned forward. “Were there any time travel stories similar to what I experienced?”
“Yes.”
“Why hasn’t anyone talked about them?” Michael asked.
“I had heard stories about these events when I first joined this church.” Dennis removed his glasses and set them down. “But I dismissed them, thinking they were tales told by overzealous people. That happens sometimes when people want attention from a new pastor. That’s the way I looked at it anyway.”
Dennis put his glasses back on. “But I think they aren’t general knowledge for the same reason you haven’t talked about it. You’re afraid people will think you’re crazy. Stories like this can cost someone their job. Their reputation. They’ll be labeled religious kooks.” He shook his head. “We spend most of our lives shutting out the everyday miracles that occur, why wouldn’t we ignore the extraordinary ones? We spend more time trying to dispel t
hem instead of believing in them.”
“I could understand that,” Susan said. “Rumors of time travel would make people think the person is living in some sort of fantasy land.”
“It’s not a fantasy. I was there.” Michael tapped the side of his chair with his fingertips. “At least I believed I was there.”
“I believe you believed you were there,” she said, her lips drawn in a tight line.
Michael’s cell phone rang. He looked at the call display; it was his sister. “Have you heard from Elizabeth?” he asked.
“No.” Connie sounded out of breath. “It’s about –”
“I’m busy now. I’ll call you later. Bye.” He was about to hang up when he heard his sister scream for him not to end the call.
“What’s so important?” he asked, his patience thin.
“Turn the television on,” she said.
“I’m not near a TV.”
Connie screamed, “Well, go find one. Now.”
“What? You’re breaking up.”
“Get … a TV…”
He put the phone down by his side. “Dennis, do you have a TV in here somewhere?”
Dennis got up, opened a cupboard and slid out a fourteen inch television set.
“Okay,” Michael said to Connie. “I’m near a TV. Now what?”
“Turn on Channel 12.”
He did as she suggested, leaned back against the desk and watched the breaking news story unfold.
Amber Alert: Elizabeth Stewart, brown hair, with bright pink streaks, fourteen years old, last seen in Northport. Her picture filled the screen. He dropped the phone to the floor as the reporter talked about the blood found in his car.
At the bottom of the screen, bold black letters shouted: Blood found in father’s car. Press conference at noon.
“This is ridiculous,” Susan said.
Dennis checked his watch. “Let’s wait and see what this news conference is all about.”
“Can I use the land line?” Michael picked up his cell phone and hung up. “I’m having a problem with my phone.”
“Sure,” Dennis said, pointing to the church phone.
Michael glanced at Dennis and Susan. “I’d like some privacy.”
They left. Michael pulled out Detective Brady’s business card and dialed.
“It’s Michael Stewart. I saw the report on TV.”
“Amber alerts are routine in these circumstances,” Detective Brady said. “We’re hoping that an appeal to the public will lead us to more information on your daughter’s disappearance.”
“Do you have any new information?”
“We’re still investigating,” he answered and Michael heard an accusatory tone in the detective’s voice. “Make sure you don’t leave the area. You’re a person of interest. Call your lawyer if you need legal advice.”
“I don’t need a lawyer,” he shouted. “Just find out what happened to my daughter. If you want to bring me in and put me under a bright light, give me a lie detector test, I’ll do it. If it means you can get some answers.”
“We’ve taken that under consideration. In the meantime, make yourself available for further questioning. Where are you now?”
“I’m at the church.”
“We’ll be in touch,” he said.
Michael slammed the phone in its cradle, surprised it didn’t break into a million pieces.
Susan and Dennis returned.
“I heard you yelling,” she said.
“It’s that detective,” Michael said, raking his hands through his hair, not caring that it would make him look like a mad man. “I keep telling him I don’t know where Elizabeth is.”
“Michael,” she said quietly, “that’s not exactly true. You may know where she is.”
He huffed out loud. “I can’t very well tell the cops that I think she may have gone back to another century. I didn’t see her go down into the tunnel and Connie isn’t sure she saw her.” He tightened his fists into balls. “And now there is no tunnel.”
Dennis nodded in agreement. “The police would think he’s trying to cover up something.”
“Maybe you can dig your way back to the tunnel.” Susan said.
“That may not be possible,” Dennis answered.
“Why?” she asked.
“If what I read in the book is really true, it says that a way back will find you.” He rubbed the area between his eyebrows. “It says it can be anywhere in this church.”
“It didn’t mention going back through a tunnel?” Michael asked.
“No.”
Susan turned to the pastor. “Can we read the book?”
He hesitated for a fraction. “Don’t remove the book from this office.”
“We won’t,” Susan said.
“I have to go,” Dennis said. “Help yourselves to water, soda or coffee.”
He left and Susan sat in a chair with the book. “You try to relax for a bit and I’ll see what I can find in here.” She flipped through a few pages. “Looks like a lot of these miracles took place during charitable events.”
Michael pulled up a chair and sat beside her. “Like what?”
“Food drives, bake sales to raise money for the needy, clothing drives.” She fingered a page in the middle of the book. “One night they were cooking dinner for widows that lost their husbands back in the Civil War and a mist appeared by the front of the church. The pastor was making a plea for people to bring food for the hungry during a terrible disease outbreak here in town. Then the image of Jesus floated through the crowd.”
“What happened next?”
He watched her scan the next few pages. “When the mist disappeared, the pastor looked at the first pew and saw several loaves of bread.”
“Does it have any reference to the basement?
She turned another page. “Not yet.”
He put his hand out. “Let me look.”
She handed him the book. “How did Elizabeth’s blood get in your car?”
“No idea,” he said, speed reading through one of the pages.
“Are you sure?”
He shot her a dirty look. “You’re seriously going to go there?”
She shrugged. “I had to ask. You’d do the same if it were me in this predicament.”
He shoved his frustration aside and continued reading.
She leaned over his shoulder. “Wow. Some of these stories are hard to believe.”
“I know.” He was captivated by the historical scribing. Some passages were more detailed than others and a few annotations were difficult to read due the age of the book.
He flipped a page over and Susan put her finger on it, pointing to an entry. “Look at this.”
Michael read it. “Not sure I see anything interesting.”
She took the book from Michael’s hand and pulled it closer to her face. “The name in this book. Tanner. That’s my mother’s maiden name.” She handed the book back to Michael. “Read that page.”
Michael read the story about a man named John Tanner. He appeared out of nowhere inside the church, his shirt stained with blood, screaming he saw horrific acts of violence. He read that sentence three times. “I wonder if he’s related to you.”
Her eyes widened. “It’s not possible.”
“What’s not possible?”
“John Tanner.” She rose from the chair. “He’s my great-grandfather.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she said. “My grandmother told me a story many years ago about her father being sick, having to go to a special hospital. She never gave me the reason why. My mother rarely spoke about him.”
“You should ask your mother more questions about him.”
“I will.” She opened the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To see my mom.”
“She still lives around here? I thought she went with you to Massachusetts?”
“She did. But she couldn’t sell the house down here so she came back.” She
put her hands on her hips and raised her hand. “Why don’t you come with me?”
He opened the small fridge in the office and took out a bottle of water. “You go ahead.”
“You’re not going to be able to get into any tunnel right now. We didn’t find much in that book to give us any answers, besides the reference to my great-grandfather. Maybe my mother will remember something and it may trigger some answers.” She tugged at his arm. “Let’s go.”
He hesitated, maneuvering his arm away. “Okay.”
Susan’s mother Rita lived on the other side of Northport, away from Crab Meadow Beach, up a hill where several tall trees blocked any sunlight from reaching the street. It reminded Michael of the hundred acre woods. Susan’s mother gave him the chills too, like she was ready to jump out in a corn maze to scare children.
When they arrived, Susan parked the car. A white-haired lady waved from the front door. “Susan. Why didn’t you call to tell me you were coming?”
“I didn’t have time,” she said, heading up the front steps.
“You didn’t drive all the way here for that man again, did you?”
Michael tried for a smile. “How are you?”
“Oh, it’s you,” she said. “I didn’t see you behind Susan.”
“I’m only a foot taller than she is. How could you miss me?”
“I’m not wearing my glasses.”
As Michael offered his hand, she turned and walked away. He reluctantly followed Susan up the steps. She gave her mother a hug and kiss. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner. But I only got in last night. I’m here to lend Michael a hand.”
“What does he need from you now?” Rita asked as she closed the door on Michael.
He waited a few seconds before tapping on the door.
“Sorry about that,” said Susan, opening it. “Mom, you accidentally shut the door on Michael.”
“It wasn’t an accident,” she said, scowling. “I’ll never understand your relationship with that man.” She shook her head. “Never mind him. Are you hungry? I know the man can’t cook.”
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