These Sheltering Walls: A Cane River Romance

by Hathaway, Mary Jane

  Henry had always heard that being taken to a second location during a kidnapping was the worst move a person could make. She started to fight, throwing her elbows out and kicking her feet. She’d always thought of herself as strong and substantial but they propelled her easily back through the hedge.

  “Shut up,” the short man growled and Henry realized she’d been screaming against the hand over her mouth. “We’re not gonna hurt you.”

  Lie.

  Chapter Thirty

  “A thing may happen and be a total lie; another thing may not happen

  and be truer than the truth.”

  ― Tim O'Brien

  Gideon dropped to the porch steps and waited for his pulse to slow. His walk had turned into a run, and the run had turned into the conviction that he needed to call Henry. It was late and everyone who needed to be up at a decent hour was already in bed, but he couldn’t convince himself otherwise. No matter what how he argued with the worry, it lingered and grew stronger until he felt like his chest had steel bands around it.

  He stared at the bright blue screen of his phone and reminded himself that the worst that could happen would be waking Henry from a deep sleep. She might be groggy or snap at him. The thought almost made him smile. He would brave an angry Henry if it meant he could stop worrying.

  Touching her number, he put the phone to his ear and listened to the ring tone. After a few seconds, the knot in his stomach tightened. A few seconds more and his mouth went dry when it clicked over to voicemail.

  “Hey, it’s me. Just hoping you’re at home safe. Call me if you’re awake.” Gideon disconnected and sat motionless. The crickets, usually so soothing, made him feel like someone was drilling into his skull. He suddenly hated living next to the river. A few minutes later, he called again. And again.

  Standing up, Gideon could feel his pulse all the way to his feet. His face was dripping with a cold sweat, more than during his run. It’s nothing. She’s fine. In a sudden flash of clarity, Gideon wished he’d been in therapy for years. He wished that he could stand outside himself and look in, knowing whether his anxiety was real, or a complete fabrication of his own mind.

  He called Henry again. No answer. Somehow he found himself inside the house, pacing the darkened living room, even though he didn’t remember opening the door. The shadows played tricks with his mind, showing Sandoz’s body on the carpet, then making it disappear. He was alone in the world with no one but ghosts for company. He called her again. And again.

  He imagined her car crumpled against a tree, or maybe she’d never made it that far. Maybe she was back at the plantation, at the mercy of the kind of people he used to live with, day in and day out, in prison. He never should have let her go alone. He’d failed her.

  Gideon turned and punched the door frame, over and over, until his knuckles were aching and bloody. If he were a normal man, he would know what to do. If he had tried harder to get well when he had the chance, if he’d taken Alanna up on her offer of friendship or whatever it was, and if he hadn’t let himself slide into the darkness, he would know what step to take.

  Rage choked him as he turned, kicking the rocker on its side. He wanted to smash everything he loved. He wanted to burn this place to the ground, himself inside it. If he had listened to Tom and all his psychology when he had the chance, he would know what was happening and wouldn’t be spiraling down―

  Tom. Gideon stopped moving, his body shaking with grief and anger. Tom would always answer when he called. He looked down and realized his hands were empty and bruised, the phone thrown or dropped somewhere in the dark. It took a minute to manage the lamp switch, and another minute or so to find the phone in the far corner of the room. It still worked.

  Tom answered on the second ring. “Gideon?”

  He couldn’t answer for a moment, the relief was so strong. “Henry,” he choked out.

  “What happened? Where is she?”

  “I don’t know.” Gideon knew he wasn’t making any sense but it was all he could do to clutch the phone to his ear. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what’s real and what’s in my head.”

  “Where are you?” Gideon could hear rustling and a faint clink of keys.

  “I’m home.”

  “I’m coming over. Don’t move. Don’t do anything.” There were more sounds, a door being opened and shut. “Will you just sit still until I get there? Or do you want me to stay on the phone?”

  “I’ll wait for you.” Gideon didn’t hang up. He listened to the click and sat without moving until a quarter of an hour later when Tom ran up the front steps.

  Alarm flashed in Tom’s eyes as he took in Gideon’s bloody hands. He knelt down next to him and asked softly, “Where’s Henry?”

  “I don’t know. She said she would call when she got home. But she didn’t call.” Somewhere in the haze of his thoughts, Gideon heard how crazy he sounded and he clutched his head. “There’s something wrong with me, Tom.”

  “Did you try and reach her?”

  “Yes.” He thought so. Or maybe he’d imagined it. Holding up the phone, he scrolled through his calls. Seven calls to Henry. He hadn’t remembered that many.

  Taking the phone from him, Tom tapped the number and held it to his ear. After a few minutes he disconnected. “Maybe she’s asleep.”

  He nodded. Of course. That was what had happened. She’d simply forgotten. “I tried to stay calm. I just kept seeing…” The darkness of the world prowled around every day, looking for ways to create misery and anguish. He knew what sort of people walked the earth, right in Henry’s footsteps, maybe right beside her. There was no innocence left for Gideon. He knew how depraved and how cruel a human being could be.

  “And then I couldn’t tell if I was going crazy or not.” Clearly, he had and he was. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have woken you up. It’s stupid.”

  “I’m glad you did,” Tom said. “And I’ll always be here to give you a reality check. You can depend on it. Don’t ever feel like you’re bothering me, big brother.”

  Gideon nodded. His carefully ordered life has been a lie, and he hadn’t even known it. He finally saw himself clearly and the man underneath was in a desperate struggle to survive.

  “Okay, so what can we do now?” Tom rubbed a hand over his face. He looked like he’d been scared out of his sleep. His T-shirt was on backwards and he wasn’t wearing socks with his shoes. “We can drive over and see if her car is there, make sure she made it home. Or we can call Alice to check on her.”

  Gideon felt overwhelming gratitude that Tom hadn’t given the option of simply going back to bed. “We’ve moved from sitting outside her house all night to just driving by.”

  “That’s progress,” Tom said. He smiled but his eyes were tense. “Gideon, you know that you have to get some help. There’s no shame in it.”

  Three months ago, Gideon would have been offended and angry. A month ago, he would have agreed but never done a thing about it. Tonight, he dropped his head and wept.

  After a while, Tom helped him to his feet and they started for Natchitoches. They didn’t speak much as they drove the winding road back to town. Gideon finally understood why Henry said he’d carried her heart into that fire. She was only working late, and he had nearly lost his mind.

  ***

  Henry couldn’t see where they were going, just glimpses of bushes and the side of a building. She was dragged down a set of old stairs and heard the rattle of keys. “Get her in here before anybody sees,” one of them said.

  It was an old basement like the Finnemore house. She could smell the damp stone and stink of black mold. The door slammed behind them and the bigger man flicked on a light. He threw her down as easily as kicking off a shoe. “Barney was an idiot and I enjoyed stranglin’ the life outta him,” he said. “But I think I might enjoy you a little more.”

  Henry looked around the empty basement, already knowing there was nothing she could use as a weapon. Her phone was long gone and one sho
e was missing. She was completely helpless. No one would hear her screams.

  “So, what’s your name, honey?” He crouched down and smiled, and it was a smile that chilled her to the bone.

  She’d heard stories of kidnap victims talking their way to freedom but didn’t know where to start. She hung her head, thinking of Patsy and wishing she could see Jack grow up. She thought of Kimberly and how they had just learned to be honest with each other. She thought of Gideon and there were no words, just images of sitting across from him at the table, his smile, the way he cupped her face when he kissed her. All he would feel is guilt when they discovered her body. He’d never realize how he’d changed her life for the better in so many ways. Henry felt tears trickle down her face. He’d once told her she deserved to tell the truth, and that had changed everything.

  The truth.

  She lifted her head. “I have a lot of money. I can make it worth your while to let me go.”

  The little man started to laugh. “Someone who gives tours at the plantations ain’t got the kinda money we like.”

  “No, but Kimberly Gray is my aunt. She’s got millions.”

  For the first time, the bigger man gave her an appraising look. “And how would we get this money?”

  “You let me contact her. She delivers the money to a place you say. I get released.”

  They exchanged glances.

  “She can get hundreds of thousands in cash just walking in her bank. I’ve seen her do it.” Henry had always thought she was a good liar. She’d nodded and smiled and repeated lies she’d been fed. But now she could hear herself twist the words until it was indistinguishable from the truth. A lifetime of studying good lies and bad lies turned into a few short sentences that just might save her life. “She’s got an offshore account and some financial advisors that help her hide most of her money. She can get cash that won’t be traced.”

  The younger man paced the basement. “She don’t even live here. How would she get it to us?”

  “She’s flying in tomorrow morning. I’ll call her. She’ll bring it.”

  “I don’t think you know her. Lots of people say they do, and they only seen her walkin’ down the street.”

  “Check my phone. She called me about half an hour ago.” Henry glanced around. “It’s… I must have dropped it. You’ll have to go back and get it.”

  The big guy stood up. “Nah. You’re trying to trick us into going back out there.”

  Henry said nothing, just stared back at the two of them.

  “She’s right. We need to get the phone before someone finds it there and tries to track her down.”

  “What if it’s got that GPS thing? It’ll lead them right to us.” They were facing off now, getting angrier by the moment. Henry knew who would bear the brunt of their anger.

  “I can turn it off. There won’t be any way to trace it,” Henry said.

  “I dunno. I think she’s tricking us.”

  “No tricks. I’ll call her, we can arrange how much and where. You get the money, and tell her where I am as soon as you’re out of town.” Henry hoped she was making sense. She wished she’d watched more movies. Her reading tastes didn’t ever have hostage crises or kidnappings for ransom. Maybe she was dooming herself. If Gideon were here, he would see the flaw in her plan, or the trap in theirs. At the thought of him, she felt her eyes start to burn but she swallowed back the tears. No one was going to come to her rescue. It was up to her to get out of this.

  “Okay. Keep the gun on her. Don’t get close. Shoot her if she makes trouble.” The bald man threw Henry a wink. “I’m gonna go get yer phone. Make yourself comfortable.”

  As the heavy basement door slammed behind him, Henry glanced at the younger man. He paced the basement, a sheen of sweat glistening on his pale skin. He was too thin and the dark circles around his eyes spoke of drug use or chronic sleep deprivation.

  He saw her watching and raised the gun. “Stop starin’ at me.”

  She dropped her head and looked at her feet. Somewhere on the path between the buildings was her other red heel, her purse and her phone. Surely someone would think that was suspicious. But then, it was late at night and pedestrians usually stayed along the river walk. She closed her eyes and prayed, the words carrying unfamiliar tones of panic and fear. She’d always prayed for others, or out of gratitude, or even simply out of duty. Now she prayed the way a person does who has reached the last hours of her life.

  Ten minutes later, the door opened and the bald man strode in, dropping her purse onto the ground. He held up the phone. “Took me a while to find it.” He tapped at the screen. “How this thing work, anyway?”

  “Here,” she said, holding out her hand.

  “Nuh-uh. I’m not that stupid.” He grinned. “Tell me how to get to the number.”

  Henry’s heart sank. She carefully walked him through the pages unil he found Kimberly’s number.

  “Ok, this is how it’s gonna work. I talk first. Then I hold it up to you. You don’t say nothin’ that I don’t tell you to say.” He reached out and for a moment Henry was confused about why he wasn’t holding the phone. The second before his open palm connected with her face, she tried to jerk her head away, but it was too late. The blow made her ears rings and she tasted blood in her mouth. “Got it?”

  She nodded, tears flooding her eyes. She’d never been hit before, not by anyone. The humiliation she felt was worse than the pain.

  The man dialed the number and waited for Kimberly to pick up. His gaze never left Henry’s face and she realized that if Kimberly didn’t answer, her life was probably over. But then she saw his eyes widen and he said, “Kimberly Gray? I got your niece. You’re gonna give me what I ask for, or she’s gonna go in the ground.”

  Henry almost closed her eyes at the faint sound on the other end. It was high and filled with fear. She couldn’t make out the words but the man didn’t wait to let her finish. He barked his demands into the phone and then held it out to Henry.

  “Kimberly? It’s me, Lorelei.”

  “What’s happening? Who is that? Why―?”

  He took the phone away. “Tomorrow near the under pass at noon. You tell anybody and she’s dead.” He closed it and smiled. “Well, we’ll see how close you two really are.”

  A few months ago, Kimberly might not have answered. She certainly wouldn’t have believed what she’d just heard. Their relationships existed only on the surface, clouded by half-truths and hurt feelings. Now Henry wondered if she would ever really know her after having wasted so many years angrily avoiding her.

  “Let’s get out of here, Rick.” The younger man headed for the door, the gun tight in his fist.

  “Shut your mouth,” he bellowed, swinging wildly in his direction. “Now she knows my name.”

  Henry wondered if they would get in a fight and there could be a chance for her to escape somehow, but the younger man simply cowered against the door.

  “Sorry, man. I wasn’t thinkin’.”

  “Now we gotta kill her,” he said and turned toward Henry.

  “You kill me and she won’t bring the money.” Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest that she could hardly hear her own voice. “And your name doesn’t mean anything. I could have described you well enough.”

  He paused a few inches away and she could see him debating the problem in his head. “I guess you’re right. But I ain’t staying in here all night. We’ll lock you in.” He held up the phone. “Taking this along, though.” He laughed and threw her a wink.

  Henry watched them walked through the door, shutting off the light on the way. For a long time after they left, she didn’t move. She listened to the faint sound of cars driving by and wondered where she was. There wasn’t anyone home or they would have gagged her. She sat there in the darkness, trembling and immobilized with fear.

  The basement had looked just like the one at the Finnemore house, with the small, high windows. It was completely empty, without even a box to stand on. Henr
y would never be able to reach a window, even if it was wide enough to crawl through. She stood up, feeling her way toward the door. The bigger man hadn’t returned her shoe and the basement floor was cold under her bare foot. After a minute or two, she found the knob and turned it. It was locked, of course.

  She leaned against it, the smooth oak cool against her skin. She’d read once that survivors never gave up hope, that as soon as a victim resigned themselves to death, they stopped fighting. As much as she wanted to believe that Kimberly was going to bring hundreds of thousands in cash on a plane, deliver it to these criminals, and then demand to be told where Henry was hidden, she knew it was very unlikely.

  She shuffled to where she thought her purse was, swinging her hands in low arcs until she connected with the bag. A few seconds later, she felt her keys. The walls were stone but a hundred years in the humidity had made them soft and crumbly. The paint was peeling and bubbled with water damage. Henry made her way to a wall and started to carve letters into the paint and plaster, making sure there wouldn’t be any misunderstanding. She was going to make sure Gideon was exonerated if it was the last thing she did.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “History, Stephen said, is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.”

  ― James Joyce

  “There, I see her car,” Tom said as he pulled into the parking lot.

  Henry’s red four door sat right where it should be. He really had lost it over nothing. A wave of shame and frustration washed over him. “I’m sorry about getting you out of bed.”

  “Don’t apologize. I’m just glad everything is okay.” Tom let the car idle for a few moments, the headlights cutting a bright path through the parking lot. “Loving someone is an act of bravery, isn’t it?”

  His question was posed so naturally that at first Gideon didn’t hear the deep truth within it. “I thought I could just leave my demons at the door, but then I fell so hard for her, so fast, that I didn’t realize I’d brought them with me.”