The Seattle Cipher, page 12
“Hello, Patricia McKay,” Stephen hissed, raising a gun in the air. Behind him, Rachel stood with tear-filled eyes, a gun pointed at her back. Patricia saw the gun Stephen was holding raised in the air, and then she saw darkness. “Lights out.” Stephen grinned, watching Patricia fall into an unconscious state. “Now, Ms. Greenstone,” he said, shoving Rachel into Patricia’s room, “get the keys to your SUV and let’s go.”
Rachel stepped over Patricia’s body wearing a pained, guilty expression. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’m going to give this monster his diamond and make him go away. You can hate me later.” Rachel located Patricia’s purse and dug inside. “Here,” she said, pulling out the keys to her SUV.
“Good,” Stephen said and grinned. “Let’s go. No funny stuff or your friend dies.” Stephen used Patricia’s room key to lock the door behind them, then Rachel followed a monster out into a dark and stormy night, leaving a trail of two wounded bodies behind. Poor Levi was lying unconscious in his room, becoming a piece of artwork that was connected to Patricia.
Patricia wasn’t certain how long she had been unconscious. A cold washcloth on her forehead brought her around. “What happened?” she moaned, feeling as if her head were going to explode.
“Easy. You have a nasty gash on the top of your head. I stopped the bleeding. You probably have a concussion, but I don’t think you need immediate medical care.” Levi spoke in a voice that told Patricia he was hurt as well.
“Levi?” Patricia asked, struggling to keep her eyes open.
“Stephen Stewart took Rachel, Patricia. We have to save her.” Levi removed the wet washcloth he was holding to Patricia’s head and checked the woman’s wound. “Your gash is deep. You were hit hard, so was I. I was able to pick the flimsy lock, but we don’t have time to seek medical care. Can you stand up?”
“I can try.” Patricia fought to regain control over her state of mind, trying desperately to remember what had happened and who had attacked her. “I saw a scarecrow with a gun,” she moaned as Levi struggled to help her stand up.
“Stephen Stewart,” Levi explained, hating the sight of dried blood sticking to Patricia’s lovely hair. “Patricia, we have to save Rachel.”
“I think I know where Rachel might be.” Patricia felt the top of her head, located an ugly gash, and winced. “What started out to be a curious case of numbers isn’t over yet, and it’s gotten excruciating.”
“Yes, it has,” Levi agreed, examining his own wound.
“Why didn’t Stephen Stewart kill us?” Patricia asked in a confused voice, speaking more to herself than to Levi.
“He needs us alive in case his plan fails,” Levi suggested. “Dead hostages can’t be used for bargaining.”
“That makes sense. Either way, Stephen Stewart made a mistake by leaving us alive.” Patricia felt her eyes turn blurry for a second and then focus. “You’ll have to drive, Levi. We need to hurry.” Patricia located her umbrella. “Still have Rachel’s gun?”
“In my pocket,” Levi promised, speaking in a voice that still sounded a little dazed. “Ready?”
“In a second.” Patricia took a minute to stand still and focus. Her eyes were flipping from blurry to clear in a scary slideshow fashion. “My vision is still not very stable.”
“Then maybe you need to stay here and I’ll—”
“No, let’s go.” Patricia rubbed her eyes, saw the room before her clearly for a few seconds, and then yanked open the room door. “Let’s go.”
Levi hesitated but then followed Patricia out into a hideous storm. He moved Patricia to his vehicle, helped her climb into the passenger seat, and got moving at a very careful pace. A half hour later, Levi killed the headlights on his vehicle and parked at the end of Pine Rain Street. “How is your vision?” he asked, pulling in front of a row of thick, towering trees dripping with showers of rainwater.
“Better. My vision isn’t blurry anymore. My head hurts, but I’ll live,” Patricia explained, feeling a little better now that she had returned to the land of the living. “Okay, I told you all about the grave. The only problem is—”
“We have over one hundred acres to explore,” Levi said and sighed.
“I’m hoping Rachel doesn’t know where Brannon Handorf’s grave is located, either.” Patricia touched her head with careful fingers, felt the ugly gash Stephen’s gun had created, and winced again. “Well, I guess a little rainwater will help clean the wound. Let’s move.”
Levi reached out and touched Patricia’s hand. “I’m sorry, Patricia. If I had known—”
“Don’t be sorry,” Patricia assured Levi, looking into the man’s sorrowful eyes as heavy rain splattered down onto the front windshield. “Look, we all make our choices. I’m a travel writer, and for whatever reason, I somehow always end up getting involved with murder. I could stay home, but I don’t. I understand the risk.”
“Why do you take the risk?” Levi demanded.
Patricia continued to stare into Levi’s eyes. “Well, I keep remembering what my granddaddy always told me when he tried to turn off my bedroom light at bedtime.”
“Which was?”
Patricia gently touched Levi’s hand. “When I was afraid of the dark as a little girl, my granddaddy would always tell me that if we let the monsters win, our fear would never go away. I guess I don’t want to let the monsters win, Levi. Living in fear isn’t exactly my idea of living. I would much rather put my faith in God, put on a brave face, and go out into the world and live each day, one at a time, with a hopeful heart. Does that make sense?”
“I’m afraid it does.” Levi nodded and then checked Rachel’s gun. “Okay, Patricia, let’s go hunt down a monster.”
“Carefully,” Patricia warned. Levi nodded again. Patricia bit down on her lip, studied the falling rain, and then stepped out into the storm without her umbrella. “Boy, this rain is really falling, and it’s so dark that I can barely see my hand in front of my face.”
Levi hurried around the hood to Patricia. “Any idea which direction we should take?” he asked, speaking over the rain as his eyes darted around.
“We need to locate the school and then go from there. Let’s go.” Patricia took Levi’s hand and began walking down the narrow road, hugging the far right side, following a rusted metal fence. Ten minutes later, the road passed a long concrete driveway blocked by a black iron gate that was rusted beyond repair. Patricia was tempted to take out a small flashlight she had found in the glove compartment of Levi’s vehicle but didn’t. Instead, she stepped forward and began running her hands up and down the rusted gate. “Look,” she pointed out, motioning for Levi to join her.
“What is it?”
Patricia pointed to the bottom of the gate. “Someone pulled up the bottom just enough to fit through.”
Levi bent down and felt the bottom of the gate. Patricia was right. The metal was folded up just enough to allow someone to slide under. “And look at this,” he stated, finding a piece of torn cloth.
Patricia hesitated and then decided to finally chance the flashlight. She pulled a small, yellow flashlight out of the right pocket of her rain jacket, turned it on, and aimed the light at the piece of cloth Levi was holding. “That cloth matches the dress Rachel was wearing, but why did they crawl under the gate? Why not go over the fence?”
“Because,” Levi stated in a confident voice as Patricia turned off the flashlight, “Stephen Stewart has a lame leg, and the fence we have been following is quite high.”
“Which means Stephen Stewart may be moving at a slow pace.” Patricia looked further down the road and then focused back on the gate. “Okay, Levi, let’s go play school,” she said and then carefully dropped onto her knees and began crawling under the gate. Remind me to kill Edna when I get back home. Boy, am I going to kill her with my bare hands after I get reimbursed for this miserable trip.
Chapter Sixteen
Stephen pushed Rachel down a dark hallway lined with rusted wall lockers; some of them were leaning forward, threatening to fall over. “Where is my diamond?” he hissed, hearing the shoes he was wearing squeaking on an old green and white marble floor that was covered with mildew, dust, and forgotten memories. Stephen’s limp was more pronounced now—the night of violence and movement had aggravated his old injury—but he still moved with deadly purpose.
Rachel watched Stephen throw a high-powered beam from a red flashlight up and down the hallway. The light struck the wall lockers, wooden doors that were hanging off their hinges, and broken pictures that were plastered to a wall dripping with green wallpaper. The heavy scent of mildew, damp air, and time filled her nostrils to the brim. “I don’t know! I’ve already told you that! All I know is that Eva Vinovich told Patricia that Brannon Handorf’s grave is marked with the numbers 3, 9, and 7. His grave holds the diamond. Why did you bring us into this old building? We need to be outside on the grounds.”
“Do we?” Stephen aimed his gun at Rachel. “A grave? Not likely. No. The diamond is inside the school, hidden somewhere. I have always believed that. Now, tell me where the diamond is, or I’m going to start making this trip very painful for you.”
Rachel stared into Stephen’s insane, murderous eyes in fear. “I already told you all that I know,” she begged. “Please, we need to go outside and start looking for Brannon Handorf’s grave.”
“No!” Stephen hollered, hearing his voice echo up and down the creepy hallway and into deserted rooms filled with rotted wooden desks and cracked blackboards. “The diamond is inside of this school. Now take me to the diamond or prepare to suffer!”
Patricia heard Stephen’s threatening voice slide out into the rain from a broken window attached to a forgotten classroom. “He’s inside,” she whispered to Levi. “We were right.”
“Well, the front door was pried open,” Levi pointed out, standing with his back up against a wet brick wall. “We didn’t use great detective skills to figure out that someone was inside this school.”
Patricia shrugged her shoulders. “Who cares? What matters is that we save Rachel and stop a monster.” Patricia stared off into a thick section of rain-torn woods. “Look, Levi, here’s the deal. We’re going to play this game without any clever ideas attached. I’m going to distract Stephen Stewart, and you’re going to shoot him. It’s that simple.”
“Shoot—”
“The monster has already killed a cop. Do you think he’s going to stop killing?” Patricia asked. I know that when it comes to killers, sometimes it’s either kill the killer or wait for the killer to eventually show back up in your worst nightmares. “Can you shoot Stephen Stewart?”
“I... yes, I can,” Levi said and nodded as the image of a young girl holding a sweet baby appeared in his mind. “The cop who was killed had a family. Stephen Stewart dies tonight.”
“Good.” Patricia pointed at the classroom she was standing outside of. “I’m going to lure the monster directly into this classroom. When you see him, shoot. I’ll have my flashlight on and aim the light right at him. Don’t miss.” With those words, Patricia ran off into the rain, leaving Levi to prepare his battle stance. This has to end tonight. I just hope there are no more unwelcome visitors in this case. Remind me to never go to a museum ever again and to kill Edna when I get home.
Patricia made her way back to the front of the school, climbed a set of slippery stone steps, and squeezed through a pair of rusted metal doors that were chained together. “Rachel!” she called out, deliberately making her position known while turning on the flashlight she was holding. I was four classrooms down. Count the doors. Ah, there’s my classroom. Have to hurry. Patricia took off running toward the marked classroom while screaming out Rachel’s name. “Rachel, I know you’re in here! I’ve called the cops! Where are you?”
“Impossible!” Stephen roared, aiming his flashlight down the hallway. He spotted Patricia darting into a shadowy classroom, screaming Rachel’s name.
“Rachel, are you in here?” Patricia’s voice floated out of the classroom she ran into. Have to hurry. Patricia hurried to a line of broken windows hugging the far wall of the classroom and peered out into the storm. “Levi,” she called out in a low whisper, “get ready!”
“I’m ready!” Levi poked his head up from behind a tall bush. “I’m ready,” he promised again.
Patricia nodded, squatted down behind a rotted wooden desk, aimed the flashlight she was holding at the classroom door, and waited for a monster to appear.
“I should have killed them!” Stephen yelled, grabbing Rachel’s arm and shoving her down the hallway. “Go, now!”
Rachel stumbled down the hallway, nearly falling. Stephen followed, hissing as his bad leg sent jolts of pain up his spine with each step, but fury drove him forward. Rachel stopped at the classroom Patricia was hiding in. “Patricia—”
Stephen raised the gun he was holding in the air and knocked Rachel unconscious. “Stay put,” he growled, dropping the woman onto the hallway floor. “I’ve got work to do.” Stephen quickly checked the gun he was holding and then narrowed his eyes. “Time to die, Patricia McKay,” he whispered in a deranged voice as his mad eyes pulsated in his skull.
Patricia spotted Stephen easing through the classroom door holding a gun and a high-powered flashlight. She knew that if Stephen spotted her, she was a dead woman. I’ve got one chance, and Levi has one shot. Patricia whispered a desperate prayer and then aimed the flashlight she was holding at Stephen. “Now, Levi, shoot him!”
Stephen aimed his flashlight at Patricia, spotted the woman hiding behind a wooden desk, and aimed his gun at her.
“Time to die!”
He yelled but stopped when a round of bullets began exploding from outside. The bullets tore through the broken window Patricia was hiding under and began chewing up the deserted classroom, striking the blackboard, a rotted teacher’s desk, the front wall—everything but Stephen. Stephen began to frantically back out into the hallway.
“Levi, get your aim straight!” Patricia screamed in a panicked voice, watching Stephen struggling to make his escape.
Levi closed his eyes. “Oh please!” he cried in a mighty prayer and fired off one last bullet. The bullet tore into the classroom, looked around, found Stephen trying to escape, and then attacked. The last thing Stephen Stewart felt was a hot pain in his chest, and then he dropped dead.
“Whew.” Patricia wiped sweat from her forehead, stood up, and hurried to Stephen’s dead body. She kicked the gun the monster was holding away from his hands and then checked for any signs of life. “He’s dead!” she called out in a grateful voice. “You got him, Levi! Get inside. I’ll check on Rachel!” Patricia hurried into the hallway, found Rachel lying on the floor, and quickly checked to make sure her friend was alive. “You’re alive. You’re hurt but alive.” Patricia scooped Rachel’s head into her lap as her eyes ran up and down the spooky hallway. “Rachel, honey, if anyone ever suggests I go to a museum again, I might be the one to go insane.”
“Patricia! Rachel!” Levi’s voice called out.
“Over here!”
Levi found Patricia sitting on the hallway floor, holding Rachel’s head. “Is she—”
“Rachel is hurt. Her head is bleeding. We need to get her out of here,” Patricia explained. “Help me, Levi.”
Levi began to stoop and help Patricia with Rachel, but he stopped when a frightening laughter floated down the hallway from somewhere in the darkness. “Patricia...”
“Let’s get out of here,” Patricia cried. Levi didn’t object. He pulled Rachel up into his arms, and they escaped from the dark hallway in good time.
As they carried Rachel to safety, none of them noticed the narrow basement stairs hidden behind a collapsed section of wall where an old vagrant had been living for months. Down in that forgotten basement, a radiator bearing the numbers 3, 9, and 7 sat next to a makeshift grave that held both Brannon Handorf’s remains and the legendary diamond—exactly where Eva had said it would be, but in a place none of them thought to look.
The next morning, Patricia sat in the inn’s little breakfast room poking at scrambled eggs with her fork. Her head was bandaged up like a mummy, but her detective brain was working overtime. Rachel looked pale but determined, and Levi kept checking on both of them like a worried mother hen.
“I can’t stop thinking about what Eva told me,” Patricia announced, setting down her fork. “The numbers 3, 9, and 7 mark Brannon Handorf’s grave. But that crazy Stephen was so sure the diamond was inside the school.”
“Maybe Stephen was just wrong?” Levi suggested, but Patricia was already shaking her head.
“No, no, no. Think about it, guys. Rachel, your daddy owned that land for decades. If there was some grave sitting out in the yard, he would’ve known about it, right?”
Rachel nodded slowly. “Daddy knew every inch of that property.”
Patricia slapped her hand on the table. “That’s it. We’re going back.”
“Patricia—” Rachel started.
“Don’t you ‘Patricia’ me. We came all this way, people died over this stupid diamond, and Eva wanted you to have it. I’m not leaving until we finish what we started.” Patricia stood up, wincing as her head throbbed. Remind me to never get hit in the head again. “One more look. In daylight. With real flashlights this time.”
Boy, what I do for a case.
An hour later, they were back at that creepy old school. In the morning light, it looked less scary and more like what it was—a sad, run-down building that needed to be torn down years ago.
“Okay, think,” Patricia muttered, walking through the front entrance. “Stephen was dragging that bad leg of his. He wouldn’t have taken Rachel upstairs. And Eva said the grave was marked with those numbers...”
“A basement?” Levi asked.
“Exactly!” Patricia was already poking around, looking behind collapsed walls and fallen debris. I should charge Edna double for this. Triple.
