Brian said, “Jeremiah had dinner earlier with Clara and Tony. He thought she needed family with her. He'll check with you tomorrow.”
“That's fine,” Fonnie said. “I hope things are going better between her and Tony.”
Brian shrugged. “I don't know about that.”
Fonnie looked across the table at Stephon. “And how are you feeling now?”
“Like hell. I'm supposed to be back in the office tomorrow,” Stephon said, “but I can't leave now. My job be damned, I'm not leaving until Keisha's found.”
“We all feel that way,” Brian said. “Unfortunately, there's not much we can do right now. Maybe something will come up in the morning.”
After the waitress brought their orders, silence settled over the group. Even Tyrone spoke in monosyllables, forsaking his thesaurus vocabulary. Fonnie's concern for Keisha now included her brother. She'd never seen him this distressed.
“Have you called your father yet?” she asked.
Tyrone nodded. “It was hard.”
“What did he say?”
“Just told me to pray.”
“And that's exactly what you and I are going to do when we finish eating.” Fonnie gave him an encouraging smile. “We are going to the Shepherd by the Sea Chapel and have our own prayer meeting.”
They walked the short distance to the chapel in silence. Fonnie led the way up the sidewalk to the front. An outdoor light bathed the Shepherd in a soft glow. She could have sworn His smile was a little bigger than it had been the last time she was here.
“Are you sure the church is unlocked,” Tyrone asked.
“The caretaker told me it was always left open to the public except when needed for special occasions. Try the door.”
Tyrone climbed the steps, opened the door, and stepped in. Fonnie came up behind him and felt along the wall for the light switch. Lights on either side of the aisles lit up the empty pews of the small chapel. They looked warm and welcoming. They were accustomed to giving comfort to the fearful, the troubled, Fonnie thought, to those who had nowhere else to turn.
Fonnie walked slowly toward the altar and sank down in a front row seat. Tyrone slid in beside her. The old woman and the young boy both bowed their heads, beseeching the same God in their separate ways.
After several minutes Fonnie heard Tyrone stir. He turned to her and whispered. “Do you think it would be all right if I played the piano? I play for Pop at our church and the music makes me feel closer to God.”
“Of course it would be all right.”
Tyrone made his way to the piano that sat near the pulpit. He ran his fingers over the keys and presently started playing a quiet hymn. Fonnie watched in fascination as Tyrone sat with his eyes closed and played one prayerful hymn after another. She recognized Does Jesus Care? and All Through the Night. Some were not familiar to her, but it didn't matter. The music broke the cords of tension that had been twisted tightly around her heart. She took a deep breath, felt a wonderful calmness.
Keisha didn't know how long she'd sat there holding Melanie's hand, or how long she'd cried. It was long enough for her tiny bit of daylight to disappear, and long enough so that when she tried to stand she stumbled and nearly fell again. She put her hand to her head to still the spinning. Her forehead was fiery hot. Of course she was running a fever. She was dehydrated. She was injured. And soon she could become disoriented, delirious. Even now, she thought she heard angel music.
She leaned her head against the wall to steady herself, inched back down the wall away from Melanie's body. The angel music was coming from above her head. So Pop was right, she thought, heaven is somewhere up there in the sky.
Her legs bumped into the bench again. She turned around very carefully to sit down. Every movement made her woozy. All she wanted to do now was to lie down and wait for the angels to carry her soul away.
But something in her mind jerked her back. She'd always pictured angels as playing harps, not the piano. What she was hearing was definitely a piano. Her brain took a couple more spins around the universe before it slowed down enough for her to realize that perhaps what she was hearing was human music. Maybe help was nearby. She had to get the piano player's attention. But how could she? She couldn't call out. There was nothing she could use to make a noise. Even in her fevered mind, she knew pounding her fist against the cement wall would not be heard above the piano notes. There was nothing she could do.
Keisha slumped back. She wanted to cry again, but there were no tears left. There was only the pain in her throat and the fog trapping her mind. Somewhere in the midst of that fog she heard a line from one of her father's sermons, I have set before thee an open door. But, her brain argued back, there is no door except to the bathroom. What good is that? Then she remembered how, when she'd first entered the bathroom, the door had slammed against the wall with a loud bang. Maybe that's what her father was trying to tell her.
She fumbled her way back along the bench until she felt the door sill. The door was open as she had left it after her failed attempt to get a drink of water. She stood up, felt the door to her left, and pushed against it. It hit the wall beside the commode with a dull thud. Not good enough, she thought. She pulled the door toward her, then shoved with all her might. She was rewarded with a resounding echo.
She also ended up in a heap on the floor. That was all right. The door had bounced back and made contact with her shoes. Keisha scrunched up, her back and hands flat on the floor, her knees drawn up to her belly, the bottom of her shoes touching the door. With the force of a catapult she thrust her knees forward and her feet drove the door into the wall. To her ears it sounded like a cannon shot. Surely the piano player would hear it. Again the door bounced back and again she shot it forward. Again and again. Bang! Bang! BANG!
Keisha's world had been reduced to her thrusting knees and the crashing noise. Her mind no longer functioned.
Fonnie felt a disruption in the calm feeling that had begun to wrap around her. Something alien had crept into the chapel—a noise that didn't fit alongside the peaceful music. She wished whoever was doing that blasted pounding would quit. Tyrone hadn't seemed to have noticed. His eyes were shut and his hands slid softly across the keys. She didn't know the tune, but it was plaintive, sad, a prayer for help.
The song came to an end, and before Tyrone had a chance to start another one, a sound louder than before echoed into the chapel. He jerked up, opened his eyes, scanned the room. “What was that?”
“Some fool pounding on something,” Fonnie said. “I don't know where it's coming from, maybe from the street. Sorry it interrupted your playing.”
“I guess we'd better be getting back to the motel anyway.” Tyrone got up from the piano bench and stepped down off the platform. He and Fonnie made their way to the door. “It's been a long day. Maybe I can get some sleep tonight.” He opened the door and held it as Fonnie went out. “You go ahead, I'll switch off the lights.”
At that moment another bang resonated from somewhere. Fonnie looked around outside. “I don't see anybody out here. That's strange. What could be making that noise?”
“It might be something malfunctioning—a furnace perhaps. Does this church have a basement?”
“I don't know,” Fonnie said. She turned and stared toward the front of the chapel. “Yes,” she said. “I remember now. The caretaker told me about the hurricane room. There's a trap door under the pulpit. “Do you think maybe an animal got in there somehow and got trapped?''
“I don't know what kind of animals there might be skulking around the beach,” Tyrone said, “but maybe we'd better report the noise to the caretaker.”
“Good idea. I'm sure the desk clerk will know how to reach....” Her sentence was left unfinished as another and louder boom came crashing over the pews. “On the other hand, maybe we'd better have a look ourselves.”
Tyrone nodded his head in agreement and reached the pulpit in two long strides. “The trap door is under here?”
“T
hat's what the caretaker said.”
Tyrone gave the pulpit a push that nearly sent it over the edge of the podium. In the floor was a square outline with an inverted handhold. Tyrone grasped the latch. “Well, here it goes.” He jerked the door upward and a large opening appeared at his feet. “Like opening the lid of a cigar box,” he said. He pushed the lid all the way back, and it dropped open with a loud thump. The noise mingled with another bang from below.
Tyrone bent down and peered into the darkness. “I don't see anything. Wish I had a flashlight.” Another bang. “There's steps here,” he said to Fonnie. “I'm going down.”
“There has to be a light switch somewhere for the basement. I'll see if I can find it.” Fonnie made her way to the far wall as Tyrone started his descent. In a few moments she found some switches and turned them all on. Bright lights accented the choir loft, a baptismal font, and then Fonnie could see light coming up through the trap door.
She hurried back to the door and leaned over. The banging had stopped. “I'm coming down,” she yelled.
“No.” Tyrone's command stopped her. “Don't come down. I'm calling 911.” Fonnie drew back and listened as Tyrone spoke into his cell phone. “I need two ambulances at the Shepherd by the Sea Chapel.” His voice choked as he added, “I've found the missing women.”
Fonnie heart nearly stopped beating. She crept down two steps until she could see Tyrone. He was cradling Keisha in his arms, his face smeared with tears and blood. “Is she alive?” Fonnie managed to ask.
“Yes. Barely. I don't know about the other one.”
She swayed backward with a wave of thankfulness. That's all she needed to know at the moment. Keisha was found, and she was alive. Fonnie called down to Tyrone. “I'll go outside and direct the ambulances.”
Chapter Nineteen
Police cars arrived with the ambulances. Fonnie paid them scant attention. Her focus was on her friend being carried out on a stretcher. She crowded close to be sure Keisha was breathing. Her mind, her heart kept repeating, Thank you. Thank you.
She watched as Keisha was placed in the ambulance. Tyrone crawled in beside his sister, and Fonnie managed to whisper to him, “Brian and I will be at the hospital as soon as possible.” Tyrone nodded. She could tell he was too overwhelmed to say anything.
For a moment she wondered why Melanie wasn't being brought up also, but then she knew the answer. Melanie was dead, and the police would examine the scene before moving the body.
Lieutenant Steinberg exited the basement and came up to Fonnie “I called Brian and filled him in. He'd given me his cell phone number earlier. He's coming over to get you.”
“Thank you,” Fonnie said. “I must get to the hospital—be near Keisha.”
“Of course, but I need a statement from you first. How did you and the boy happen to be here?”
“We were led here. The Shepherd led us here.”
Steinberg paused. He smiled. “Suppose we have a seat and you take me through it step by step.”
She'd barely started when Brian and Stephon came racing in. Brian tried to hug her and toss questions at her simultaneously while Stephon kept trying to say something between wiping tears from his cheeks. The detective gave a time-out signal and ushered them into a pew. “Now the sooner I get the facts, the sooner you all can get to the hospital.”
When they arrived the emergency room waiting area was empty except for Tyrone and two uniformed policemen. Stephon rushed over to Tyrone, slid down beside him. Tyrone looked at him with bloodshot eyes. “She's bad off. She's really bad off.”
Stephon clenched his hands. “When I get my hands on the bastard who did this....” His voice broke. He took a deep breath. “Does she know who it was? Can she tell the police anything?”
Tyrone shook his head. “I don't know. She was out of her head when I found her. She may not know anything.”
Brian went over to talk to the cops. Fonnie found a bathroom, got some wet paper towels and used them to wipe smudges of blood off Tyrone's face. He smiled his appreciation.
“Have you called your father?” she asked.
“Yes. A deacon in our church is driving him up in the morning. For tonight he's continuing the prayer meeting. Now it'll be prayers of thanksgiving along with petitions for her recovery.”
“Like Jeremiah said, 'prayer is a powerful force', and our finding Keisha is proof of that.”
There was little else to say as the small group kept their vigil. Other patients with minor injuries trickled in and out, bandaged or limping or rolled in wheelchairs. Lieutenant Steinberg showed up, but the policemen shook their heads when he inquired about developments. It seemed hours before a doctor came out to give them news about Keisha.
“Miss Riggs’ condition is critical, but we've stabilized her and she's being taken to ICU. She has injuries to her larynx and her esophagus due to attempted strangulation. Her trachea escaped major damage, but if the edema or the swelling in her throat increases, we may have to do a tracheotomy.”
Tyrone stood up to face the doctor. “But she'll make it? She's going to be all right?”
“She has a long road ahead of her, and it's too soon to know the outcome.”
“Is she conscious?” Stephon asked. “Does she know where she is?”
“She's sedated now and will stay that way for awhile. Then we'll see.” The doctor turned to the police at the other side of the room. “I have to talk to the police now. You can go up to the ICU waiting room—third floor. The nurse there will let you know when you can see Miss Riggs.”
Tyrone and Stephon headed for the elevator. Fonnie hesitated and looked over to Brian. He motioned her to go ahead. She was glad that Brian was getting along so well with the local police. It meant he would be privy to whatever information they had and he could tell her later.
They hadn't been upstairs long when Jeremiah came in. “Sorry I didn't get here sooner,” Jeremiah said to Fonnie. “But I felt I had to stay with Hank and Doris for a while. Hank's pretty torn up about Melanie.”
“I can imagine. I'm sure he was holding out hope that she would be found alive and well. And now this—this horrible ending.” Fonnie knew that horrible was a feeble word to describe what had happened to Melanie and to the torture that Keisha had suffered, but it was all her brain could come up with at the moment. “Did the police tell him time of death or anything definite?”
“No. That will have to wait for the autopsy.” Jeremiah shifted in his chair. “Any sign of Keisha coming around?”
“I don't know. They haven't let anyone in to see her yet.”
“They're not likely to, either.” Jeremiah stared across the room at an officer in a straight-back chair tipped back against the wall. “No one is going to get by him without police clearance. Thank God for that.”
“It seems so unreal,” Fonnie said. “There's a person out there who killed Melanie and who tried to kill Keisha.”
“A person who now knows he failed with one of his victims,” Jeremiah said. “So what does he do now?”
Fonnie shuddered. She looked over at Stephon, his head buried in his hands—big, strong hands. Her gaze returned to Jeremiah. “I don't know,” she said. “What does he do now?”
If Jeremiah had an answer, he didn't have a chance to give it because two more visitors entered the waiting room. Fonnie welcomed Clara and Lula with a faint smile.
Clara ran over and gave Fonnie a hug. “How is she?”
“The doctor says she's critical but stable. That's all we know.” Fonnie squeezed Clara back. “I appreciate you coming, youngun, but you need to be in bed. You've got to take care of that great-grandbaby of mine.”
Clara brushed back tears. “I'm so glad Dad married Amy. It's been hard with my mother and both grandmothers gone. Now I have a stepmother and a step grandmother, all at one time.”
Lula stepped forward. “Actually you should be in bed also, Fonnie. Keisha is going to need you tomorrow when she wakes up. Let me take you back so you can get some
rest.” Fonnie was surprised that Lula looked and sounded stone sober. Her eyes were red-rimmed but they were clear and steady. Her voice was firm, kindly. Her words made sense.
Jeremiah spoke up in agreement. “She's right. In fact, all three of you need to be at your best in the morning. There may be some major developments.”
“But what about Tyrone. I'm sure he won't leave and someone needs to stay with him.”
Lula looked over at the two young men slumped in their seats. “I doubt that Stephon will budge tonight and Edgar said he was coming over later to check on Keisha.”
“Tony's coming too,” Clara said. “He wanted to be sure Hank and Doris were going to be all right before he left. But Midge said she would stay with them as long as she was needed.”
“Brian and I will be here too for Tyrone,” Jeremiah said. “So you three run along.” He stood up and put an arm around Lula's shoulders. “I'm trusting you to take care of my girls.”
Lula looked startled. Fonnie thought that it had probably been a long time since anyone had put their trust in Lula.
Chapter Twenty
Fonnie awoke at seven, surprised that she had slept so long and so well. Her first thought was to phone the hospital and get a report on Keisha. On second thought she decided to call Brian on his cell. He was probably still at the hospital and could tell her what was happening.
“Tyrone, Stephon, and I took turns sleeping on the one decent couch in the waiting room,” Brian said. “Edgar and Tony only stayed a few minutes, once they found out Keisha was still out of it, and that, at any rate, they wouldn't be allowed to see her. I sent Jeremiah back to the motel to get some sleep. He said he'd have breakfast with you and bring you back over.”
“Good. You didn't get to see Keisha at all?”
“I didn't, but the nurse let Tyrone in for a few minutes early this morning. Keisha had opened her eyes and the nurse thought she might recognize her brother.”
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