“Put him in the kennel,” I cried. “But be careful, he’s a tricky one.”
Jeremy pushed Vlad over to the cage, opened the door, and, forcing his head down, shoved the Russian inside. Then he slammed the door shut and secured the latch.
“What now?” Jeremy asked as he walked over to where I stood, still pointing the gun at Vlad.
“We have to get into Raoul’s office. That’s where I was headed when this creep caught me. And, how did you know I was down here anyway?”
“That’s a long story,” Jeremy replied. “I’ll fill you in on it later. But as for going to Stormview, wouldn’t it be better to go back to the carriage house and call the police? They’ll know what to do with this piece of shit.”
I shook my head. “They all think I’m a psychopathic murderer. No one will believe me unless I have proof and the proof is in Raoul’s office. I need his files and, also, he has my mother’s journal from that final summer.”
“But Katy, think. We’ve got this criminal here. That should be proof enough for the police. Now, why don’t you give me that gun before you hurt yourself. Sloane’s waiting for us back home. Once we get there, we’ll get things sorted out, you’ll see.”
He took a step toward me as he spoke, using all the right words, his tone soothing and intimate. I thought for a moment that maybe he was right … that I should let the police take care of things. But then I remembered Detective Branch and his supreme confidence in my guilt. No, I knew I was right … it was up to me, and me alone. I had to clear my name and ensure that Raoul and Hettie got what they deserved.
Jeremy took another step toward me and was now reaching out his hand as if to take the gun from my grasp.
I stepped back, away from him, then clicked on the gun’s safety and tucked it again into the back of my jeans.
“I’m going on,” I said, firmly. “You can come with me or go back. It’s up to you.”
Jeremy stared at me, his eyes wide with surprise. I guess he thought I’d be a pushover.
“Okay,” he said, dropping his hand. “We go to Stormview, but after, we call the police. Deal?”
I nodded. “Yeah, once I have the evidence I need, we’ll call my attorney and let him call the police.”
We left Vlad alone in the kennel and began to walk the short distance to the tunnel leading to Stormview.
“Tell me now,” I demanded. “How did you know where to look for me?”
Jeremy smiled. “It was Sloane. Didn’t you get his message?”
I shook my head.
“Well, when you didn’t show up to meet him, he got worried. Then he heard on the news about all of the hubbub going on at Stormview and that you’d been arrested. Not knowing what else to do, he called me. I was still on the road and hadn’t paid any attention to the news so it came as a shock. I drove over to his place and we headed back to town together. On the way, he filled me in on the tunnels, your mother, and everything else. When we got to Portland, we stopped at the county jail and were told you were out on bail. That’s when he called the carriage house. He left a message for you that we were on our way. But when we got there, the place was empty.”
“But what gave you the idea that I was in the tunnels?”
“Sloane came to that conclusion and, while it took a bit of time, we finally found the trap door in the closet. My uncle has severe claustrophobia so he went over the layout of the labyrinth with me and I came to find you.
“I was lost for a while, but then I heard you scream and, though sounds echo strangely down here, I managed to find you.”
“And just in time, I think. Thanks for coming.”
“No problem, Katy. Now tell me what makes you think Raoul’s involved in all of this.”
Quickly, I filled him in on what had happened with my father and about Raoul and Vlad’s drug-running business.
“So, you see,” I said. “They have everything they need to frame me … my history of mental illness, trumped up as it is, my fingerprints on the knife, my bloody clothing … the whole nine yards. Even you, didn’t believe me.”
“Now, Katy…”
“Admit it,” I said, interrupting him. “You aren’t even sure you believe me now. Am I right?”
He didn’t answer.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said sadly. “Once I have Raoul’s files, I’ll be vindicated and my dad’s real murderer will get what he deserves.”
I stopped walking. We were at the entrance to Stormview. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door leading to the study.
Inside Stormview
QUIETLY, I OPENED the door that led to the closet in Raoul’s study. Once inside, I stood still, listening.
Everything was silent as the grave.
I motioned for Jeremy to enter behind me, putting my finger to my lips, urging him to stay quiet.
I glanced around the room. All the shelves were empty. Apparently, Raoul had been doing some housecleaning. I started for the door, but stopped, distracted by something shoved into the corner of the closet.
It was a life-size doll with long black hair and it was wearing clothing that had once belonged to my mother.
I gasped, remembering the vision I’d had of Mom hanging from the ceiling fan in the tower room. It was obvious now that Raoul or Vlad had used this doll to trigger that hallucination in my drug-induced mind.
I started as Jeremy tapped me on the shoulder, his look puzzled. I shook my head and, indicating he should follow me, cautiously crept out of the closet into the spacious office.
The room was dark and I removed my flashlight from my pocket and flicked it on. The computer sat prominently on Raoul’s desk. The screen was black and I quickly located the “on” switch. As it warmed up, I pulled out my phone, put all notifications on mute, and texted Lyle.
“I’m in,” I typed.
He responded immediately. “Good. I was worried about you. Give me the model and serial numbers on the computer.”
Nodding, I noted that the computer was a PC and, remembering what he had told me, followed the instructions to find the numbers needed.
Everything worked like a charm. Quickly, I texted Lyle back.
“Okay,” he responded. “Now this is going to take a few minutes. You just sit tight.”
As I waited, I opened the middle drawer in the desk, hoping to find my mother’s journal. But it wasn’t there.
I tried the other drawers, again coming up blank. The last one I tried, however, was locked. Quickly, I rummaged through the middle drawer again, looking for a key. I finally found it, taped to the back, and used it to open the locked drawer.
There, sitting on top of a portable recorder, was my mother’s journal. Quickly, I grabbed it and tucked it into the waistband of my jeans. I was about to close the drawer when something on the Dictaphone caught my eye. Adhered to one side was a strip of masking tape and written on that tape was one word, “Katherine.”
Curious, I hit the play button.
Chirping and chittering.
As soon as I heard it, I gasped and dropped the recorder. It was the creature or, more correctly, the sounds that accompanied my nightmares about it. That awful chittering and scurrying that had haunted my dreams had been recorded on this device.
As I stared at it, my mind raced back to that evening in Manhattan when Raoul had brought up the subject of fears and I had, so innocently, revealed my apprehension about spiders. Had Raoul, or more likely, Vlad, slipped into my closet at the carriage house and played this recording hoping to trigger nightmarish hallucinations in my drugged mind?
I shuddered at the thought of Vlad invading my personal space and of the lengths he and Raoul went to trying to convince me, and the world, I was insane.
My thoughts were interrupted by Jeremy, who tapped me on the arm. He didn’t speak, but, instead mouthed the words, “What’s going on?”
I shook my head, indicating it was nothing. I picked up the recorder from the floor and put it back in the drawer. It was time to g
et down to business.
We were still waiting for Lyle and I was getting impatient. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, my phone vibrated.
“Try Hephzibah123,” he instructed.
I typed the password and hit return.
I waited.
It worked!
“Got it!” I texted Lyle.
“Good. It was easy. Now tell me what you need, I’ll download it, and you can get the hell outta there.”
“All his spreadsheets and emails. That should do it.”
“Roger. Just give me a minute. Once I have them, I’ll send them to your phone. Okay?”
“That’d be terrific.”
We waited nervously while Lyle extracted the files from Raoul’s computer. I was relieved when I saw the number one appear next to my email icon, indicating that I had mail.
Quickly, I reviewed the Excel files. I was right. Raoul was a meticulous, methodical man and had recorded everything. There was enough here to put him away for a long, long time.
That accomplished, I was about to shut down the phone, but thought better of it.
“Let’s look at his emails,” I murmured.
Opening the files Lyle had copied, I found numerous communications between Raoul, Vlad, and other characters with names that sounded sinister. Not bothering to read them all, I shut down the phone and tucked it in my pocket. I would forward all this evidence to Matt later along with a note of explanation.
But for now, it was time to go home.
Raoul
TURNING TO HEAD back into the tunnels, I motioned for Jeremy to follow. We had only taken a few steps when we were stopped by a familiar voice coming from behind us.
“Katherine, when are you ever going to learn?”
I turned.
Raoul was standing in the doorway to the office, a gun in his hand, pointed at me.
“Thought you’d do a little snooping?” he asked, stepping forward, the gun now aimed at Jeremy’s midsection.
“Down on your belly, fisherman,” he ordered. “Hands on your head.”
Jeremy stood firm. “Go, Katy,” he said, moving so that his body was between Raoul and me. “Go now.”
I froze. I couldn’t leave him to be killed like my dad.
“No,” I replied. “Let’s hear Raoul out.”
My uncle laughed. “Oh, Katherine, you are, how do you say it, a piece of work.”
As he spoke, he put the gun barrel against the side of Jeremy’s head. “Does he do what I say or should I blow his brains all over you? Your decision, Katherine.”
Knowing he wouldn’t hesitate to kill another man, I nodded. “Do as he says, Jeremy.”
Jeremy bit his bottom lip, nodded, and got down to his knees in front of Raoul.
My uncle sighed, looking frustrated. “On your belly!”
Hesitantly, Jeremy complied, and Raoul, using grip of the revolver, hit him viciously on the side of his head.
“Don’t,” I cried. “Don’t hurt him. He has nothing to do with this.”
Raoul laughed again, reached out, and grabbed me by the arm, steering me out of the room, leaving Jeremy unconscious on the floor.
Raoul pushed me into the great room, where he braced me against the wall.
“Hands over your head,” he commanded. “Spread your legs.”
When I had complied, he proceeded to expertly pat me down, finding my gun, the journal, and cell phone in the process.
Finished, he tucked the revolver into his waistband and turned me around.
“Katherine, you continue to surprise me. A gun. Who would have thought it? Did you use it to subdue my friend, Vlad? I notice he is conspicuously absent. Did you kill him?”
“No,” I responded. “But I should have.”
Raoul laughed. “And this,” he said, holding up my phone. “How clever.”
He quickly opened my mail, scanned the files Lyle had copied from the computer, and, one by one, deleted them.
There was a fire burning in the fireplace and, with a flick of his wrist, he tossed my phone into the flame. Then he held up my mother’s journal.
“Don’t,” I said, tears beginning to run down my cheeks. “Don’t.”
“Poor Cassie,” he replied, rifling through the pages. “She thought she could blackmail me. What a sad creature. I hated to kill her. Such a waste. And, this journal. When we decided to send you here, I flew up and rummaged through the attic until I found it. I put it in my desk, meaning to destroy it later, but it disappeared. Did you find it?”
I shook my head.
“Oh, well. Another mystery. Perhaps Vlad knows…”
He was about to say more when we both heard Jeremy moan.
“Go help your fisherman,” Raoul ordered. “I didn’t hit him that hard. Get him to his feet and bring him here. And, don’t forget, I’m right behind you, so don’t try anything foolish. I have my weapon trained on you and I am an excellent shot.”
Not knowing what else to do, I did as he’d instructed.
Jeremy’s head was bleeding, but not profusely, and I helped him to his feet. He was a little dizzy and I wondered if he had a concussion.
“What are you going to do with us?” I asked when we were all back in the great room.
Raoul sighed. “Maybe just tie you up so you can’t interfere with my getaway. I am so tired of all the bloodshed. But that would not be prudent of me, would it? No, I’ll probably have to kill you both, as much as it pains me to do so.”
“What about Hettie?” I asked. “Is she going along with all this?”
“That is my one big dilemma. You may not believe it, but I love Hephzibah with all my heart. Have since the moment I met her. She is the one love of my life. However, I can’t take her with me and I don’t think she’d choose to come anyway.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t.”
Startled, Raoul whirled around. My Aunt Hettie had entered the room from the main hallway. She was wearing a nightgown, her dark hair cascading down around her head. Her eyes were red and swollen as if she’d been crying. She looked small and frail, but her jaw was set and I sensed an air of strong resolve all around her.
In her hand, she held a three-fifty-seven magnum, pointed at her husband.
Hettie
“HETTIE, MY LOVE,” crooned Raoul. “Put down that weapon. You’ll hurt yourself.”
As he spoke, he took a step toward her, but she held her ground and kept the gun pointed in his direction.
“Drop your weapon, Raoul,” she said softly. “It’s all over. Everything. I can’t bear the guilt any longer. And I won’t let you hurt Kate or her young man. It’s over, Raoul.”
Raoul leaned as if to set his gun down on the side table. “There, my love,” he soothed. “Does that make you happy? We won’t hurt Kate or the fisherman, I promise. Come to me. We’ll just tie them up and leave them here. You and I, my love, will leave the country. There are so many places I want to show you.”
Hettie took a step toward him, then stopped. “No,” she said. “I don’t believe you. You’ve lied so many times. You told me they’d just put Kate away for a while … guilty by reason of insanity, you said. But, now, you’re going to kill her and this young man just like you did my brother. Well, I’m not going to let you.”
“Please, my sweet,” begged Raoul, but Hettie didn’t move.
Raoul stared at her, his honeyed voice silenced. He straightened up and I saw his hand once again grasp the gun.
“Aunt Hettie!” I screamed. “Watch out!”
Jeremy, standing by my side, leaped into action and dove toward me, his arms encircling my waist, slamming me to the floor in a football tackle.
CRACK, CRACK, CRACK!
Gunshots echoed throughout the great room. The sound was deafening and, instinctively, my hands reached to cover my ears.
Then, all was silent.
Cautiously, I looked around.
I was lying on the floor, Jeremy’s body covering mine protectively. It appeared tha
t neither of us were injured, but I didn’t know about Hettie or Raoul. Pushing Jeremy off, I sat up.
Hettie was still standing in the middle of the room, her gun hand no longer raised, the barrel of the pistol pointed to the floor.
Raoul lay still on the Persian carpet, one side of his head blown off.
Pieces of brain and skull littered the room, and, with some distaste, I brushed off a shard that was stuck to the front of my sweatshirt.
“Aunt Hettie,” I said, getting to my feet. “Put the gun down. It’s over now.”
She looked at me, her expression full of sorrow and pain, then her eyes grew wide, as if in surprise, and she turned her face toward the ceiling.
“Roses,” she said softly.
The heavy aroma of roses filled the room.
Hettie stood surrounded by it, staring at the ceiling as if she were seeing someone or something. A small smile blossomed on her face and she nodded once.
“Hettie!” I cried, “No!”
But I was too late.
She raised the gun to her temple and fired one last round.
Aftermath
SHE FELL, AS if in slow motion, to the Persian carpet, which was now turning red with blood. She lay beside her husband, joined in death just as they had been in life.
Jeremy and I stood stunned. All the tension and fatigue from the day melted out of me and I collapsed to my knees as I watched the life force flow from my aunt, a woman I’d loved.
“Katy,” said Jeremy softly. “Come. Let’s get you out of this room.”
I nodded vaguely as he lifted me from the floor and half-carried me down the hall to the kitchen. There, he sat me in one of the chairs and poured me a glass of water. Then, he pulled out his cell.
“Is it okay if I call nine-one-one now?” he asked.
I nodded and watched as he dialed.
After speaking with the operator, he hung up and went to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. Then he sat down beside me.
Storm Island: A Kate Pomeroy Mystery (The Kate Pomeroy Gothic Mystery Series Book 1) Page 26