The Baby's Defender

by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  “Get back out here and help your mother.” Hannah’s tone was a snarl. “She’s waking up.”

  “I’ll be right back,” she told West. “Keep holding this jacket to your wound. We need to get the bleeding to stop.” She barely made out his bleary gaze in the gloom.

  He grabbed her wrist. “Don’t lose heart. We’re going to get out of this...somehow.”

  She touched his cheek softly with the tips of her fingers, then disengaged herself without a word. Returning to the crypt, she found her mother stirring in the coffin where her half sister had placed her.

  She whirled on her aunt, who was maintaining a wise distance from Cady. “Has she been kept in here the entire time she’s been missing?”

  “Hardly.” Hannah snorted. “She’s been leading the pampered life in a cozy little cell in the basement of my home. I only brought her here last night when you cut off my access to my house. I figured since you’re a bright girl, you were likely to deduce that the crypt might lie at the end of tunnel and would come here to investigate. I made my plans accordingly, and you walked right into them.”

  “But how have you been getting in and out of the crypt? Sure, I see now how easy it would have been for you, working in Mr. Platte’s office, to get your hands on the front door key and have it copied. But the dust in the chapel was undisturbed by any footprints.”

  The woman shrugged. “I have my ways—because I’m smart. Those nails in the rear entrance’s boards are all loose, but you have to trip a mechanism at the base of the door to get it to open up.”

  Cady’s stomach turned as she stared at her aunt Hannah and thought of all the woman had done. How was it possible that she was related to this terrible human being?

  A groan from the casket drew her attention toward her mother. The woman’s eyes fluttered open.

  “Wha—? Where?” May croaked, then blinked and focused in that vague fashion that had been her mother’s look since the overdose. “Cady-girl?”

  Cady’s heart thrilled at the recognition. Her mother hadn’t even acknowledged her presence the last time she’d visited the Twin Oaks. Bad on her that it had been years ago. Cady had left the place thoroughly discouraged that day and then got distracted by her taste of happiness with Griffon. She hadn’t wanted anything to disturb the idyll of love and belonging that had proven all too short.

  Her mother lifted an arm and touched her cheek as if she’d decided to care about her daughter again. “I—I’ve been writing notes to you. She made me do it at first, but then I realized I wanted to talk to you. It’s been so long. In that place they put me—” she blinked watery eyes “—I didn’t want you to see me there, so when you came to visit, I pretended not to know you so you would go away.”

  Cady’s breath caught. Her mother had always known her, but some convoluted sense of shame at being placed under care had caused her to pretend otherwise.

  She leaned closer to her mother. “Did you write a note that said we weren’t going to catch you?”

  “Catch me? No. I wasn’t running away. I wanted to go to you, but she wouldn’t let me.” The childish tones were typical of her brain damage, but clearly glimmers of intelligence remained.

  Hannah let out a brief chuckle. “I only needed samples of her handwriting to practice with in case I ever had the opportunity to write something to taunt you. Today, I had reason to go to the Glenside police station on legal business, and who do I glimpse there but May’s little daughter and her white knight? Leaving the note on your windshield was a genius touch of opportunity.”

  As if she were moving through water, Cady’s mother struggled to sit up. No doubt the residual effects of whatever drug she’d been given. Cady reached in and helped her mother leave the casket. The woman looked back at what she’d been lying inside and gave a small shriek.

  “You!” Cady’s mother stiffened and glared at Hannah. “You’ve always been spiteful. Mean. When I was little, you hurt me. You hit me. You tried to kill me. Not once, but lots. Mommy didn’t believe me, but Auntie did. That’s why she gave you away.”

  “And I believe every word Mom just said.” Cady took her stand beside her mother.

  Hannah rolled her eyes. “Just get into the tunnel. You can do a little mother-daughter bonding while you’re waiting for the end to come. You never know quite when the shoring in that passage will collapse. Don’t worry, it’ll happen soon. I plan to help it along.”

  With an arm around her mother’s shoulder, Cady steadied the older woman, prematurely stooped in her posture, and guided her toward the tunnel opening.

  Her mother looked at her and smiled. “She showed me the baby book. I’m a grandma.”

  Cady glared over her mother’s shoulder at her evil aunt. “You took Olivia’s baby book. Where is it? I want it back.”

  “Nonsense. You won’t be needing it where you’re going. Keep moving!”

  Near the tunnel entrance, Cady’s mother balked. Eyes wide, she turned toward her half sister.

  “This is the passage we were told about when we were children. You found it. Remember how we used to hunt through the house for a secret door into it?”

  Hannah snorted, stepping closer to them. “I found all the doors when we were kids and never told you. I’ve always been the clever one. Here is your chance to go exploring.” She took one hand off her gun and made a shooing motion with it toward the gaping darkness of the tunnel.

  Only the slightest increase of tension in her mother’s back muscles warned Cady of May’s plans. In a smooth motion that Cady would never have believed possible of her damaged mother, the woman shoved Cady with both arms toward the meager protection of the tunnel, then whirled and launched herself at her half sister.

  With a cry, Cady stumbled backward into the passage, windmilling with her arms. The backs of her legs from the knees down struck a hard object. She lost the battle for balance and sprawled with a thump onto the hard-packed earth.

  Sounds of a violent struggle reached her ears as she fought to draw oxygen into her lungs. A gunshot sounded, then another, and then the tunnel door suddenly whooshed shut, sealing her in darkness.

  * * *

  “Cady!”

  West’s ribs ached where she’d slammed into him as he was crawling toward the tunnel entrance. He didn’t yet trust himself to stand up on his own steam. Was she all right? She’d hit the ground with a mighty thud. He groped in his belt for his utility light and clicked it on. The beam illuminated her still form. She was lying on her back.

  He crawled to her and peered into her face. At least she was conscious, gazing up at him with a pained expression. Had a bullet struck her? Suddenly, her chest heaved, and she drew in a deep, rasping breath.

  “Are you hit?” He began scanning her with the flashlight for any sign of blood.

  “I’m not shot, West.” She wheezed a breath. “But someone out there might be.” Her gaze flew toward the tunnel exit. “Mom!” she cried out. “Are you all right?”

  She fell silent and West went still, straining his ears for any sound from outside the tunnel. Ringing silence answered.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said. “There’s got to be a latch on this side of the door.”

  “If it’s not booby-trapped.” She struggled into a sitting position. “Are you still bleeding?”

  “I don’t think so, but a mariachi band is playing up a storm in my head.” Summoning his strength, West propped his back against the wall and worked himself upward into a standing position. “Here I go.”

  He stepped away from the wall and staggered. Cady grabbed his arm and led him to the secret entrance door.

  “Okay, I’ve got my feet under me now,” he told her. “You can let go.”

  She complied as he trailed the thin beam of his small flashlight over the expanse of the door blocking their freedom.

  “Here it is.” He leaned clos
e and examined every inch of the mechanism. “There’s no bomb attached.”

  “Let’s go, then!” Cady’s breath was hot on his neck.

  She must be ready to jump out of her skin, wondering what happened to her mother. West depressed the switch. Nothing happened. He pressed harder. Nothing. He released the latch and it popped off its anchors and fell to the floor.

  A long groan escaped his throat. “The door hasn’t been booby-trapped. It’s been sabotaged. It won’t open from this side.”

  “No, no, no! I have to find out what happened to my mother.” Cady barged in front of him and began pounding with her fists on the door. “Let us out of here!”

  West gripped her arm. “Take it easy. We’ll get out, but this isn’t the way.”

  With a sob, she turned and buried her face in his chest. He welcomed her. Nothing felt more right than Cady in the circle of his arms. If only he could help her understand that he cared for her as much more than a friend. But no amount of “if only” could help her love him back if she didn’t. Or couldn’t. She’d loved Griff with all her heart. Maybe it was a once-in-a-lifetime love. That’s the way it happened with some people. If only Cady wasn’t that once-in-a-lifetime for him.

  Almost immediately, she lifted her head and backed away. He let her go, as he knew he must.

  She shivered and hugged herself. “Sorry about that. We need to get out of here. I have to check on my mother.”

  “Of course. No need to apologize. Here,” he said, slipping out of his jacket. “Yours is covered in blood. Put mine on.”

  “No, I—”

  “No argument.”

  She accepted the garment and shrugged into it. The jacket swallowed her whole. He helped her roll up the sleeves so her hands were free.

  “What was that you said about another way out?”

  “It’s an assumption.” West began walking deeper into the tunnel, playing his flashlight beam ahead of him. They didn’t need more nasty surprises. “I’m hoping the builders of the tunnel used common sense and provided more than one exit to the passage. I can’t picture a tunnel going straight 1300 feet—that’s about two city blocks—with no other exits than one end or the other. We have to find an alternate exit. I have one clue.”

  “What’s that?” Her voice came from close on his heels.

  “When we were at the house standing at the tunnel entrance, I kept hearing water dripping. Where was it coming from, if not seeping in from the outside somewhere?”

  “Of course! It was raining that night, and the water needed some open channel to get into the tunnel. You’re a genius.”

  “Hold the praise. We haven’t found the exit yet. If it is an exit and not some fluke of a fissure in the earth.”

  “We’d better locate it in a hurry because my evil aunt said she was going to collapse the tunnel on top of us.”

  West stepped up his pace, despite the stab of pain in his head with every footfall. The tarry creosote smell from the cured wooden beams crowded his nostrils. He estimated they’d traveled about a block when the packed earth under their feet started to become soggy and then downright muddy. Their shoes made squishy, sucking noises as they walked.

  “I wonder why Hannah didn’t track mud into the passageway at the house,” Cady mused aloud. “That would have been hard to sweep away.”

  “She’s a planner.” West glanced back at her over his shoulder. “I assume she wore galoshes for the trek up the tunnel and then took them off before she went into the house.”

  “Galoshes would be nice right now. My feet are freezing.”

  “Stop right here.” West halted and Cady bumped up against him. “Look.” He pointed his flashlight beam upward, illuminating a chunk missing from the ceiling of the tunnel. The gap surrounded a sizable pipe.

  “A drain pipe?”

  “If I’m not mistaken, that’s a city sewer line. Over time, rain seepage around the pipe from above eroded the top of the passage and it fell in, exposing the pipe. Now, every time it rains, the drippage gets into the tunnel. I’m amazed that the secret passage wasn’t exposed when they originally laid the pipe. They would only have to had to dig a foot or two deeper.”

  “How does that help us?”

  “It might not.” West frowned and met her expectant gaze. Her patent trust spread warmth through him, despite his gooseflesh from the chill of the tunnel. “Then again, it might.” He offered a small smile. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole section of earth above us is weakened by the gaping hole below. A little determined digging could open an escape route if it doesn’t drop the tunnel on top of us. So, it’s going to be risky.”

  “So is doing nothing.” She flopped her arms against her sides. “But digging with what?”

  “What did I tell you before about a soldier never being without his knife?”

  “How are you going to reach way up there to chop out the earth?”

  “I’m not. You are. I’ll get down on my hands and knees, and you’ll have to stand on my back. It’s going to be a dirty job.”

  “What do I care about a little mud and muck?” Her chin jutted. “I need to find my mother, and I need to get back to Olivia. She’s got to be starving by now.”

  “That means we can count on Brennan to be looking for us, which can only be a good thing.”

  “What are we waiting for? Let’s get started.”

  West handed her the knife and the flashlight, then got down on his hands and knees. The cold mud sucked him in to above his wrists and around his knees. It wouldn’t be long before his hands went numb.

  “Step up on my back. Your head should be nearly level with the pipe, and you can use it to steady yourself. Then start chopping at that loose earth above it.”

  Her weight pressed down on him. Thankfully, she was wearing flats, not heels. Chopping noises, accompanied by grunts of effort, reached his ears. Mud and dirt began raining down on him.

  “The soil is coming loose pretty easily.” She puffed. “But it keeps falling in my eyes.”

  “I’m not surprised. It’s raising the dirt level around me but keep going. I’ll let you know if I’m about to be buried.

  “Stop,” he called a few minutes later.

  She climbed down off his back and he stood up, brushing clods from his body. With fingers stinging from the cold, he took the flashlight from her and directed it toward the hole she was digging above them.

  “Impressive. You’ve made several feet of progress.”

  “Yes, but the soil is becoming firmer, and I don’t know how much farther we need to go to get to the top. I’m already at the end of my reach.”

  “Time for you to sit on my shoulders.”

  He knelt down and she climbed on. Slowly, he rose, clinging onto her lower legs to help her balance. Clods of dirt and small roots began raining down on him again. Then the roots began to get bigger, accompanied by the odor of loamy topsoil. Suddenly, the chunks of earth contained bits of grass.

  “I see the sky!” Cady burst out. “It’s just a small opening, but—”

  Her words were swallowed by a deep boom, like that of a detonating IED. The sound came from a location only a short way up the tunnel. An ominous rumbling began, and the earth shook beneath West’s feet. He struggled to maintain his balance.

  “The tunnel is collapsing!” he shouted. “Get out now!”

  He put his hands underneath her and shoved her upward. More dirt and grass poured down on him, and then she left his grip. With a crack and a groan, the tunnel beam nearest him deserted its post and plummeted to the ground mere inches from his head. Great gobs of earth began crowding around him. He leaped upward, grabbed the sewer pipe with both hands and performed a pull-up. The imploding tunnel sucked at him, but he levered himself to a squat on top of the damp pipe.

  Fresh air and sunlight beckoned through the narrow hole above
him. But as he attempted to stand, his feet scrambled for purchase on the slippery copper.

  An arm reached down through the hole. Not Cady’s. Too hairy and masculine. He grasped the offered hand, steadied himself and surged upward. His shoulders broke new soil as he sprawled out onto the firm, welcoming lawn of Cady’s backyard mere feet from the utility shed.

  A familiar face grinned down at his prone body.

  “Hello, again, Mr. Foster,” said Detective Rooney. “I gotta say, this has been the most unusual case I’ve ever worked.”

  SEVENTEEN

  Seated in Olivia’s nursery, Cady kissed the top of her baby’s downy head, giving silent thanks to God for the privilege of feeding her precious child once again. Cady was still a mass of dirt and mud, but Olivia didn’t care about her mother’s attire and cleanliness as long as dinner was served. Brennan had brought her right over as soon as West called him to say they were all right. Thankfully, the Triple Threat team possessed an emergency car seat for their honorary niece.

  When Cady and West didn’t return to Brennan’s place in a timely manner, he had called Detective Grace to have the police start looking for them, beginning with the chapel and crypt. They’d found Cady’s mother in the crypt badly wounded and called an ambulance to take her to the hospital, but their nemesis, Hannah, was missing. When Cady and West had not been found there, Rooney had gone to Cady’s house, which was how he had been present to give West a hand, literally, in escaping that death-trap tunnel.

  The murmur of voices carried to her from downstairs. That would be West continuing to bring Detective Rooney up to speed on all that had happened. Detective Grace was still at the scene of the crime at the cemetery.

  Olivia’s eyes drifted closed. Cady rose and placed her daughter in the crib. The little girl let out a contented sigh. Cady would do the same as soon as she had a shower. A half hour later, she came downstairs, hair still wet, to find West and Brennan sitting at the kitchen table, but no Rooney.

  “The detective didn’t want my statement?” she asked.