The Cotten Stone Omnibus: It started with The Grail Conspiracy... (The Cotten Stone Mysteries)

by Lynn Sholes

  After a mile or so, the road abruptly turned away from the stream. The sound of cascading water faded into the sudden rush of wind overhead. It was then that Ben realized the sky had darkened. Glancing out the window, he spied charcoal gray clouds through a break in the trees. A fast-moving mountain storm threatened.

  Ben debated whether to continue on or head back. If the weather got nasty, he didn’t particularly want to get caught so far from home.

  Soon, a light rain fell. He’d driven about five miles, he figured, since leaving the blacktop. Through the steady drizzle, the mountains grew darker. He was just about to turn around when he spotted a tall, chainlink fence up ahead on the left. The logging road ran along the perimeter of the fence. Approaching it, he saw it was old and falling apart. The Constantine security wire that had once spiraled along the top had snapped in many places and sagged or fallen to the ground. Corroded and barely readable, a metal sign attached to the fence bore the warning: No Trespassing. U.S. Government Property.

  Ben drove on through the light rain until he noticed a clearing on the other side of the fence, and he came to a gate. The logging road continued past the gate and disappeared into the woods beyond.

  Pulling up to the gate, he looked for any evidence that the van had passed through or continued on the logging road. Because of the rain, there was no trace of any vehicle.

  On the other side of the gate, a one-man guardhouse stood like a ghost from a bygone era—its wooden frame sadly in disrepair. A snarl of vines had taken over the small structure and seemed to be the only thing holding it together.

  A padlock secured the gate. The rain slackened into a light mist, so Ben shut off the engine and got out for a closer look. The padlock held together the ends of a chain that coiled through the gate frame. Although the chain was old and rusted, the lock appeared fairly new.

  He noticed that a couple of the clamps holding a section of the chainlink on to the metal frame had long ago fallen away. With some effort, he pushed on the mesh and produced a space big enough to slip through. He would just have a quick look around and then move on.

  Walking past the old guardhouse, he followed the dirt road for a hundred yards or so until a large block-shaped structure loomed out of the drizzle. It stood in the middle of a collection of smaller buildings—perhaps five or six in all. As the details of the buildings became clearer, he saw that all were in as poor a condition as the guardhouse and fence. Most were single-story, wood-frame structures with broken windows and dark, hollow openings for doorways.

  The largest of the structures was a windowless concrete building appearing to be about one hundred feet wide and towering over him at least three stories high. Paint peeled, gutters and drains slumped, and the surrounding area was thick with overgrowth. What had once been a paved road was now dirt, with only small chunks of asphalt remaining. For the most part, weeds and brush had reclaimed it. Atop the main structure was a radar dish frozen at an odd angle in a paralysis of rust.

  The building’s main entrance was boarded up with plywood—heavy bolts held the panels in place. The wood bore the dark staining of long-term exposure.

  Deciding to take a few more moments to explore, Ben wandered around the side of the building and came upon a door with a sign that read Authorized Personnel Only. He tried the knob but it didn’t give. Moving on to the back of the building, he found another door labeled Danger. High Voltage.

  Suddenly, the skies opened and the rain came down in sheets. The wind picked up, roaring across the open area and turning the raindrops into pinpoints of pain. Thunder shook the ground as a bolt of lightning struck nearby. He pulled on the door with no luck. Trying again, it finally gave way with a resistant groan. He stepped inside and shook the rain from his hair and clothes.

  He left the door ajar for what little light came in from the dark sky. Thunder cracked again shaking the walls of the huge building. He had apparently entered some kind of utility room—the only entrance was the single door. Mounted on the rear wall was an electrical connection box. It had to be at least four feet wide and six feet tall. Six thick metal conduits, each about the diameter of a baseball bat, ran from the top of the box and disappeared through the ceiling. He was no electrician, but it was obvious that the building once required a tremendous amount of power.

  Like the gate, the electrical box was also protected by a padlock. He examined it—a Sargent & Greenleaf high security U.S. government padlock. Heavy duty, indestructible, and as shiny as the day it was made.

  Why protect the electric service of an abandoned building with such an expensive lock? Curious, Ben glanced around. Other than the electrical box, the room appeared empty.

  Then he saw it.

  Mounted high over the door—barely noticeable in the murky light, the tiny red LED on the motion detector stared at him like the cold eye of a predator.

  harvest moon

  “Was the good ole preacher boy’s remark about keeping vigilant what I think it was? A warning?” Cotten steered the rental out of the church parking lot and back on to Burks Spring Road. It was getting dark fast, and shadows hung heavy over the rolling Kentucky hills as she switched on the headlights.

  “That’s the way I read it,” John said, looking over his shoulder at the fading image of the church. “First he asks if I believe in the devil to get my mind on that track, and then he makes the vigilant comment. I believe that was his way of informing us who we are up against, as if that wasn’t already becoming clear. He was warning us to back off.”

  “Puts the nail in the coffin, then. Tera must have somehow recognized Albrecht as being evil. Whatever she saw scared her pretty bad.”

  “If Albrecht is a member of the Nephilim, or worse, one of the original Fallen, and Tera has the ability to identify them, then they definitely want her to vanish. And that means she is in grave danger. We have to assume that they’re already hunting her down. We’ve got to find her before they do.”

  Cotten’s hands tightened on the wheel. “And they know we’re onto them, and that we’ll be searching for Lindsay and Tera, too. They’ll be hell bent on stopping us.”

  She looked over at John who seemed puzzled and distant in thought.

  “What is it?” Cotten asked. “What are you thinking?”

  John laced his fingers and tapped his thumbs together. “There’s something else, something more to it, I just can’t put my finger on it. Tera is certainly a unique child, and it looks like she may be able to ID the Nephilim and the Fallen, but it doesn’t seem like that’s enough.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s a little girl growing up in the middle of nowhere, so it’s not like she’s going to come across a huge number of them out here in the sticks. Her encounter with Albrecht could have been a coincidence. She freaks out when she sees the pastor, so what? The whole town thinks the kid is off kilter. Why would Tera be such a threat to them?”

  “You may be right. Maybe that’s exactly why Albrecht is way out here in Loretto in the first place, because Tera is a threat.”

  “Hopefully, when the Venatori office in Washington gets back to me with the credit card info, we’ll know where to start.”

  “I’m going to give Ted a call and ask for some additional time to investigate this.”

  “Cotten, I can follow up from here if you need to get back to New York.”

  “I know, but Ted is aware that this is a personal matter. Let me call him first and clear it.” She reached to the center console then hesitated. “Check and see if you’re sitting on my phone. Or maybe it fell on the floor.”

  John leaned forward and felt beneath him, then looked down between the seat and the console, then the seat and the door side pocket. “I don’t see it.”

  Cotten ran her hand beneath her and on both sides of her seat, then dug in her purse. “I could have sworn I left it in the cup holder on the console.”
<
br />   John checked around again, including the glove box.

  “Must be under your seat or mine,” she said. “I’ll check when we stop.”

  “I’m serious about taking it from here,” John said. “You don’t have to ask for time off.”

  Cotten vigorously shook her head. “No, no, no. Lindsay called me for help. And besides, you know as well as I do that this is what I’m supposed to do with my life—it’s my birthright, so to speak. Granted, it’s taken long enough for me to come to terms, but I can’t deny it any longer.”

  “Yes, it has taken a long time,” John said. “A difficult road for you.”

  Her eyes stung at the onset of tears. “You were right—it’s been quiet way too long. I knew something like this was eventually going to happen, I just didn’t know when. I even started to believe that it was over—that I could begin living a normal life. No more supernatural bullshit.” She turned to John. “This is never going to end, is it?”

  John brushed a loose strand of Cotten’s hair behind her ear. “Let’s try to take it one step at a time. So far, we are only speculating. Good speculating, mind you, but no real proof, yet. So whether it’s our old adversary we’re dealing with here or just the active imagination of a depressed widow and her talented but high-strung daughter, our first goal is to find Lindsay and Tera. Agreed?”

  Reluctantly, Cotten nodded. She managed to hold back the tears, only allowing the first of them to well up. She wiped her eyes, and that was the end of it. The urge to cry wasn’t out of self-pity; it was for Lindsay, Tera, and all the friends and acquaintances she had lost along the way.

  The introspection was finally broken when John said, “I hate to change the subject, but my stomach is growling. Hungry?”

  Cotten reached for John’s hand and held it. “Thanks for giving me a few minutes to recollect and rant. This never gets any easier for me.”

  “It’s not an easy task you’ve been given. No one is expecting you to think otherwise, especially me.”

  She squeezed his hand. “So, you’re hungry. We can go back to Lindsay’s and scrounge around for something to eat. But there’s not much left in her cupboards. There’s a diner a mile or so from here. Want to try some country cooking?”

  “Sounds perfect.” John stared out the window. “What’s the claim to fame in your hometown?”

  “Actually, we’re just about to pass it.” Cotten motioned up ahead on the right. “They’re closed for the evening now, but that’s the entrance to Maker’s Mark Distillery. They’ve been making Kentucky straight bourbon there for a long time. Growing up, I used to like the smell of the fermentation when I would ride my bike into town. A poor man’s aromatherapy.”

  “So you had the potential to become a bourbon aromaholic from an early age?”

  “Very funny. Actually, I would love an Absolut over ice right now. Probably not something I’ll find at the diner.”

  “Did you enjoy growing up here?”

  “There were great times. Many with friends like Lindsay. But once my father died, my mom and I didn’t do so well. She suffered from depression after we lost the farm. We moved to Lexington and she went to work in a textile mill there. After I graduated from the University of Kentucky, I left and never looked back.”

  Cotten turned into the parking lot of the Goldenrod Grill. “It’s not much on ambiance,” she said, “but the food is good.”

  Before going in, Cotten searched the car again for her cell phone.

  “Maybe you left it at Lindsay’s,” John said.

  “No. Just before we went into the church I checked it to see if I had any messages or missed calls. I set it in the drink holder in the front console.” She heaved out a sigh. “That’s just great.” Cotten closed the car door and they headed for the diner entrance.

  Inside, they seated themselves in a booth. The vinyl seats were a mustard-yellow, and the tables were wood, covered with what looked like a half-inch layer of polyurethane. The menu was embedded under the polyurethane in four spaces.

  “Guess the menu stays pretty much the same,” John said.

  The waitress brought tall plastic glasses of ice water and straws. “Let me know when you’re ready to order,” she said. “Just wave me down.” She turned to leave, but then wheeled around and cocked her head. “Well, I’ll be dipped,” she said in her southern drawl. “That is you. Cotten Stone.” She walked closer to the table. “It’s me, Caroline. Caroline Duckett. Andy’s sister. You dated my brother in eleventh grade.”

  “Oh, my God,” Cotten said, realizing the waitress was the younger sister of a month-long, old high school flame. “Caroline.” Cotten got to her feet and hugged the waitress. “I haven’t seen you in forever. How’s Andy?”

  “He’s great,” she said. “Every time he sees you on TV he tells his wife about how you two dated. He thinks it makes her jealous, but I think it just pisses her off.”

  They all laughed and Cotten scooted back in the booth. “Caroline, this is John Tyler, a friend of mine.”

  “Pleased to meet you, John.”

  “Hey, do you know Lindsay Jordan?” Cotten asked.

  “Sure. Town’s not that big,” she said rolling her eyes. “What a tragedy, Neil dying and all.”

  Cotten nodded.

  “I don’t think the child ever recovered from losing her father. Tera is real peculiar. Beautiful little thing, but an odd duck. She didn’t fit well in school either, so Lindsay started teaching her at home. I think she has been under a lot of stress trying to do it all.”

  “I’m sure,” Cotten said. “Have you ever been around Tera?”

  “Not much. I hear she’s quite an artist. Her mother said that was because Tera was—what did she call her?” Caroline tapped the pencil eraser on her chin. “I remember, an Indigo child, whatever that means. At least that’s what I’ve heard.” She shook her head. “Small towns don’t have much going on, so gossip spreads like wildfire. Believe me, if you strike a match, everybody in Loretto knows it before you can blow it out. Like the fit Tera threw at church a few Sundays ago. Phones were ringing off the hook. That’s all you heard folks talk about in here for days. Nobody’s seen Lindsay or Tera much since.”

  “I came to visit Lindsay,” Cotten said. “But it looks as if she and Tera have left town—left in a hurry.”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me. I know they’ve gone away before. Always came back, though. Maybe this time, they’ll get a fresh start somewhere, not in a small town.”

  “Let’s hope,” Cotten said.

  _____

  When they left the diner, their hunger satisfied with generous portions of country-fried steak, collards, mashed potatoes, and sweet tea, John motioned toward the east. “The moon looks so much bigger out here in the country.”

  “That’s a harvest moon, John,” Cotten said, taking his arm. “I ordered it up special, just for you.”

  “I probably need to find a place to stay tonight,” he said. “I saw a sign for the Hill House Bed and Breakfast.”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” Cotten said. “There’s plenty of room at Lindsay’s. Discussion closed.”

  “Well, I guess I’m staying at the Jordan farm tonight,” he said as they got in the rental.

  Cotten pulled onto the highway, still annoyed that she had lost her cell phone. Taking her mind off it, she said, “That is an amazing moon.” The huge orange ball brought back memories of parking on lover’s lane many years ago.

  “Looks like there’s some sort of glow on the horizon under the moon,” John said. “Is there a factory or mill out that way?”

  Cotten saw the glow in the distant night sky. As they traveled toward it, it grew brighter. Suddenly, she caught the flashing of red lights in her rearview mirror followed by the droning of a siren. She eased the car onto the shoulder as a fire truck roared past, its strobing emergency lights casting a
scarlet blanket over the nearby fields. Before Cotten could pull back onto the highway, a second emergency vehicle shot by in the wake of the fire truck.

  As they rounded a bend in the highway, Cotten and John spotted a collection of red and blue emergency lights up ahead. A half dozen fire and police vehicles had converged on the site. Flames bit at the black sky as the huge harvest moon hung above the scene. It seemed to grow brighter—fed by the heat of the fire.

  Then it became obvious. Flames engulfed Lindsay’s farm.

  devil or angel

  Alan sat on the bathroom floor, the image of his son’s face burned inside his head. For the past hour he had huddled over the toilet until he thought he would retch up his very insides. Even with nothing left to purge, his body didn’t want to relent. The nausea came and went with his thoughts of Devin, like giant sickening waves rolling over him. Today it had finally gotten the best of him.

  There was a knock on the bathroom door.

  “Alan?”

  “Kai, not now.”

  She opened the door and came to him. “Sweetheart, I’m only here because I care.” She pulled Alan to his feet, undressed him, and helped him into the shower.

  He heard the click of the door as she left him alone.

  Alan stood under the hot flowing water for a long time, trying to wash away the fear and sorrow as much as the stench from throwing up.

  Through a heavy fog of steam he finally got out, dried off, and slipped on a bathrobe. Then he wandered into the dark bedroom and lay on the bed, exhausted.

  He felt Kai join him and pull away his robe. He realized she was naked as she straddled his thighs. She trickled warming massage oil onto his back, then closed the bottle and tossed it next to her. The air was suddenly rich with the scent of almond.