When Death Draws Near

by Carrie Stuart Parks

Where is Aynslee?

  I searched every inch of the room. Snakes, big, oxide-brown rattlers and darker snakes with white mouths, slithered or coiled under furniture. The warning rattle came from the canebrake rattler in front of me. Another snake, raw sienna and burnt umber in color, raised its large, flat head and was flicking the air with a split tongue. Burnt-sienna copperheads wound around the walls.

  The open door to my left proved to be the snake room. Empty cages and upturned Plexiglas containers filled the space. A pile of laundry lay tossed on the table that had earlier held Samuel’s memorial display. Car keys rested next to a battered black purse and beige sweater on the coffee table. The stench of burning food grew even stronger.

  Prying my hand from the switch I’d flipped, I stepped away from the front door, leaving it open. I didn’t know much about snakes, but I did know they were cold-blooded and liked warmth. Maybe the cooler outside air coming through the open door would drive them into the warmer snake room.

  I hobbled across the porch to the window on the side of the house and peered in. The room was too dark to see clearly. The next window was high and frosted. The bathroom. I stumbled forward in the darkness, now trailing my hand against the house, until I found another window. No scrap of light helped me see in. Turning the corner, a glow came from a door at the back of the house. I paused, picturing the layout. This would be the kitchen. The snakes were in the living room with the doors shut to the other rooms. The kitchen should be safe. Aynslee had to be in there. I opened the door. Rancid smoke billowed past me. The glow came from a burning pot on the stove.

  Rushing across the room as fast as my swollen ankle would allow, I turned off the burner. A wooden spoon sat in a spoon rest next to the stove. I used it to shove the pot off the burner. It looked like the remnants of dinner left on low. Probably keeping it warm for me.

  I’d been gone for over twenty-four hours. This must have happened within hours of my leaving for the cabin.

  Fire still licked upward from the contents of the pan. I spun around, looking for a fire extinguisher. No extinguisher, but the lid to the pot was by the sink. I grabbed the lid with a pot holder and shoved it into place.

  More smoke filled the room, this time from the white-painted cabinet over the stove. Using the wooden spoon, I nudged the door open.

  Several boxes of cereal puffed into flame.

  I spun and turned on the kitchen faucet. A thin stream of water came out, not enough to make a dent in the inferno. The fire grew, lapping around the cabinet’s wooden edges.

  Turning my back on the flames, I forced my brain to analyze the scene.

  The table held a single place setting. The rest of the room was tidy. Elijah and Ruby had expected me to return. But when a car drove up, it wasn’t me returning for Aynslee. It was Devin. He must have tied everyone up, then forced Aynslee into the car before returning to turn all the snakes loose.

  I clutched the counter to keep from crumpling to the floor. I had to be calm. Focus.

  The heat grew, pushing me from the room. I limped outside. The stale odor of my own sweat replaced the smell of burning wood. Bile rose in my throat.

  This was designed as another “accident.” Oh dear, the snakes got loose, bit both Ruby and Elijah as they tried to catch them. In her hurry to catch the serpents, Ruby forgot to turn off the burner under dinner.

  Sarah was missing along with Aynslee. He’d probably taken them to the cabin. I couldn’t get back on Blake’s bay and gallop after them. That was too far and I was too injured.

  Elijah’s car was parked next to the house.

  But I’d have to go into the living room to retrieve the car keys. What would smoke and fire do to the snakes? Would they want to get away, or would it make them angry and aggressive? I limped to the front of the house, up the stairs, and to the open door where I could see into the living room.

  The snakes were still there, restlessly slithering around each other. A few had crawled into the snake room, the room off the living room that Blake had prevented me from entering during Samuel’s memorial service. A thick cloud of smoke poured in from around the kitchen door toward the open front door. The car keys were in the middle of the room on the coffee table.

  A long black snake with faint, light yellow markings glided across the bare floor, stopping beneath the table. It looked different from the other snakes.

  I shuddered. Something about that serpent made me want to run.

  The pile of laundry on the table moved.

  The hairs on my neck stood on end.

  Sarah uncovered her face. Her eyes were unfocused and glazed.

  The black snake whipped its head in her direction and raised its upper body. Its neck widened and flattened, forming a hood.

  King cobra.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  I DIDN’T HAVE TIME TO WAIT. SARAH LOOKED like she’d been bitten. Her parents must have shoved her to the table before they succumbed to their bites. She had to get to a hospital. And I had to get to her.

  The smoke increased, burning my eyes, filling my lungs. I coughed. The kitchen door glowed around the edges. I should have found a scarf or something to cover my mouth.

  My legs and feet had no protection from snake venom, just the thin material of the warm-up pants and slippers. I didn’t have time to find something to protect myself. I wouldn’t even be able to sneak through with this sprained ankle. The snakes would feel the vibration of my thumping step and see me clearly.

  “Okay, God, I said I’d talk, so here’s the deal. I don’t know what anointing feels like, but I could use some of that now.” I waited for something to change, a tingling, or warmth, or prickly feeling. I felt only my racing heart, the sweat under my arms, my dry mouth.

  Sarah moaned.

  Painstakingly I tugged my broken hand from the sweater sling. My fingers were bigger than before, the bruising more spectacular, the pain more intense. How are you going to pick up that little girl?

  Shoving the question away, I took a step into the room. The angry rattler shook his tail. Cheeeeeeeeeeheeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

  I moved sideways, away from its coiled body. Its head, with the vertical, catlike pupils, watched me. I put my hurt foot down.

  A snake twisted under my slipper.

  I screamed, jerked my foot upward, then clamped my hand over my mouth. Quiet!

  Snakes are deaf. The rational thought didn’t help. I coughed again.

  Sarah shifted restlessly. She could easily roll off the table. And the cobra was just below.

  Carefully I looked for a clear place to step. The snakes were everywhere, moving away from the fire and the freezing air from the open door, making the floor look like it was undulating.

  Taking a shuddering breath, I took another step. A slithering body skated past my ankle. Just two more steps and I’d be at the coffee table where the car keys lay. Another three and I’d be next to Sarah. And the cobra.

  Step-hop. A smaller rattler let me know I was too close. “Oh, Lord. Anytime now. Anoint away.” Step-hop. Just a little farther. Step-hop.

  I snatched the keys and put them in my pocket. On impulse, I picked up the sweater.

  Sarah rolled slightly. Her body now teetered just on the edge of the table. The cobra reared up, fanning its hood, and hissed.

  I threw the sweater. It landed near the snake.

  With lightning speed, the cobra struck the fabric.

  I froze.

  A rattler coiled and shook its tail to my left.

  The cobra turned away from the sweater and slithered under a nearby chair.

  Sarah rolled off the table and hit the floor with a thud. Several more snakes coiled and shook their tails.

  I limped forward, coughing, and ignored the warning rattles. Kneeling by the prone girl, the air was clearer, but I couldn’t stop coughing. Her breathing was rapid and shallow. Her left leg had swollen and turned reddish.

  Lifting her gently with my right hand, I slipped my left under her shoulders. I couldn’t
grip with my hand. I’d just have to pray she wouldn’t struggle. I got my other arm under her knees. Now all I had to do was stand up.

  Although the child was only six and small, she was over forty pounds of deadweight. My strength was running on empty. I tried to stand. My legs refused to work.

  Another snake joined in the rattling, adding to the soft hissing sound. The cobra slithered from under the chair.

  I grabbed Sarah’s arm and pulled her away from the cobra. Glancing over my shoulder, I blinked rapidly to clear my burning eyes. I located the open front door, then the path I would need to take. Taking a limping step backward, I dragged the child.

  “Endure, endure,” I softly whispered.

  Sarah moaned and her face looked worse. I didn’t have time to worry about avoiding the snakes, I had to get her to a hospital. I stopped looking where I put my feet. I staggered backward as quickly as I could.

  Something caught on the back of my slipper. I fell, landing on my already injured backside on the front porch. I’d tripped over the doorjamb. Swiftly I tugged Sarah outside the living room, then crawled back to the door and slammed it shut. Returning to Sarah, I pulled her the remaining distance to the edge of the porch. I didn’t want to pull her down the steps. Maybe I could lift her by kneeling on a step and—

  A truck roared around the corner, spotlighting me with its headlights. It skidded to a stop, showering me with dust. The door slammed and Blake charged into the light.

  I wanted to dive into his arms.

  Grabbing Sarah with one arm and me with the other, he hauled us away from the burning house and to his truck. He let go of me and placed Sarah on the ground. “Elijah and Ruby?”

  I shook my head.

  Blake sprinted to the house. Just as he reached the porch, the fire blew out the front windows.

  He threw up his arms and retreated to the truck. “Get in. I need to drive you both to the hospital.”

  “No. Take Sarah. She’s been bitten.”

  “Don’t argue with me. Get in!”

  At that moment I wanted so badly to have someone take care of me. “No.” I shook my head. “I need to find my daughter.” I held up the car keys.

  “We can take Sarah to the hospital and find her together.”

  “There’s no time.”

  “I can’t leave you like this.”

  His voice nearly melted my resolve. “You need to go. Save Sarah. I’ll get Aynslee and meet you at the hospital.”

  He spun, jumped in the truck, then careened off. The taillights blurred and hot tears slid down my face. At least Sarah had a chance.

  I bit my lip and lowered my chin to my chest. No time for this. I moved to Elijah’s car, got in, and started the engine. There was only one place my daughter could be. I just hoped I wasn’t too late.

  Even though I drove as fast as I could, it still took forever to get to the cabin. I drove past the driveway and parked the car around a corner and out of sight. I didn’t want to be greeted by a rapist who had time to find a rifle. As I limped between the trees as quietly as possible, the cabin soon came into sight. No vehicles were parked in front, but the lights were on inside.

  I paused and listened for any sound. Tonight even the crickets were silent. I’d gone up and down the porch steps enough times that I knew which ones squeaked. Light spilled from the partially curtained windows, creating golden rectangles on either side of the front door.

  On the far side of the porch, away from the light, someone sat in one of the chairs.

  My hand flew to my mouth to stifle the scream. I gripped the railing to keep from falling.

  He didn’t move.

  I strained my eyes, trying to see who was sitting and waiting. Gradually the shape formed.

  My clothes from the revival were still slung over the chair.

  Taking a deep breath, I sidled to the window nearest the bed. The room was empty. All of my things—clothes, books, purse—everything was gone. The bed had been moved from the wall and now squatted in the middle of the open space, with the sofa pushed into the kitchen area. The bathroom door stood open. The camera inside the smoke alarm glowed red. Someone was watching—or recording.

  Was Aynslee in the cellar snake room?

  I grasped the window ledge. Calm, calm. I took several deep breaths.

  I tried the door. Unlocked. Easing it open, I slipped through and listened.

  If she were in the cellar, she might be unconscious, or hurt, or . . .

  I didn’t know how wide the camera lens would be, but I had to take a chance. Pressing up against the wall, I made my way until I reached the drawer that held the kitchen knives. I found one and slid around the room until I was standing near the trapdoor. With only one good hand, getting to the floor was a slow and painful task. I couldn’t hold the knife and crawl with one hand, so I put it in my mouth and crawled slowly forward. Wedging the knife into the edge of the trapdoor, I pried it up until I could get my arm under the lip, then flipped it open. Even without much light, I could tell no one was down there, and the snake room hadn’t been disturbed.

  So where was my daughter?

  I’d assumed Devin had her and had taken her here. But what if . . . what if Aynslee had gotten worried when I didn’t return? What if, instead of getting Ruby to drive her to the cabin, she called Blanche and Arless looking for me? Arless was on my suspect list. He could have simply told her I was detained, picked her up, and taken her to his house. She’d have gone willingly. Tonight was the big Halloween party. Arless wouldn’t have time to do anything to her. She was probably at the party right now, in costume, having the time of her life.

  In fact, with the exception of Blake, all my suspects were probably at that party. Blake was at the hospital with Sarah. Probably.

  I could just drive right up and retrieve her. No one had any idea where I was for the past day. Only Devin would be in shock that I was alive. He probably figured I was dead by now or at least suffering horribly.

  There was only one problem with my plan. I didn’t know who Devin was. Everyone at the party would be in costume and wearing masks. And Devin wore at least two masks.

  Not knowing his identity meant that anyone I asked for help could be Devin. And my attempted murderer.

  Trust no one.

  I’d have to flush him out, lure the killer away from the party, and put him out of commission.

  Studying the cabin space, I groped for ideas. If I had a gun, I’d be tempted to shoot him. Except I’d never shot anyone.

  A small ax still rested by the stove.

  A plan formed in my battered brain. It might work. Lord, it had better work.

  It took me a few moments to climb to my feet. Still pressing against the wall, I limped to the corner of the room, snatched up the ax, and placed it near the front door.

  Moving to the bed, I pulled Grady’s note, ring, and watch from my pocket and placed them on the bedspread underneath the smoke-alarm camera. I flattened the note, looked again at the crosses on the ring, and reread the inscription on the watch. I held up each item long enough for anyone viewing through the recorder to see what I held.

  I looked around the room, then into the open trapdoor in the floor. Picking up the items, I stashed them back in my pocket, then limped to the opening.

  Gossamer spiderwebs crisscrossed below, and the bottom was shrouded in darkness.

  I thought of my daughter.

  Taking a deep breath, I got on my hands and knees and started down the rope ladder to the snake room cellar.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  THE WEBS CLUNG TO ME, DRAPING OVER MY clothing. I tried to keep from whimpering, but a few escaped.

  I waited long enough for the watcher to believe I’d hidden Grady’s possessions in the cellar. The seconds ticked off in my brain.

  Something plopped on my shoulder.

  I screamed and tore back up the ladder, not stopping until I was free of the opening. Batting at my clothing and hair, I spun in a circle, ignoring the pain.


  Stop it. Get a grip. I looked one last time into the cellar, then shut the trapdoor. Kicking the rug into place, I hobbled out the front door.

  Devin had probably been the one to reset the cabin. He’d missed my clothes on the porch once. I hoped he’d miss them again. I crouched behind them, clutching the ax, just as a car raced up to the front of the cabin. I caught a glimpse of him as he jumped from the car.

  I wasn’t surprised at the identity of Devin, only the pistol in his hand.

  That complicated things.

  Breathing heavily, he charged up the steps and slammed the front door open.

  I gripped the ax and pushed farther behind the chair and into the corner.

  He cocked his head and quieted his breathing, then entered the room.

  I stood, moved to the door, and peeked in.

  He dropped to his knees and set the pistol on the floor, then pulled something out of his pocket and flicked it open. A switchblade.

  I clamped my jaw shut.

  Shoving the rug aside, he used the switchblade to pry open the trapdoor.

  Swiftly folding the knife and tucking it into his pocket, he picked up the gun. Grasping the rope ladder with one hand, he started climbing down to the cellar.

  I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants. Gripping the ax tighter, I crept forward. The tension on the ladder loosened.

  Racing the last few feet, I brought the ax down on one side of the rope ladder. The rope split.

  The man cursed.

  Bang! The bullet smashed into the ceiling above the open trapdoor.

  I ducked.

  The remaining side of rope tightened as the man started climbing up. Bang! Another shot hit the ceiling.

  I bit my lip and tasted blood. Swinging the ax as hard as I could, I struck the rope.

  Bam! The bullet ricocheted off the ax blade.

  The rope split but held.

  His face appeared out of the gloomy depths, lips pulled from clenched teeth, glaring eyes showing white at the top. One hand gripped the rope, the other swung the pistol, taking aim at my head.

  He couldn’t miss at this distance.

  I kicked his hand with my injured foot. He lost his balance and clutched at the rope ladder.