False Pretenses (30 page)

“Help me up the stairs. We can hide in the secret tunnel. Hurry!”

Pierce put his arm around Vanessa’s waist and draped her good arm around his shoulder. “Okay, let’s do this. Zoe, you go ahead of us.”

Zoe hurried through the kitchen and up the back stairs to the second floor. She turned around and waited for what seemed an eternity. She heard Vanessa cry out in pain and Pierce apologize for the agonizing climb. The two of them appeared at the top of the stairs just as three deafening shots rang out.

“He’s in,” Pierce whispered. “Zoe, open the door to the tunnel!”

Zoe ran in the bedroom where sheriff’s deputies had discovered the secret door in the closet. She put her hand on the knob, her heart racing, and pulled open the door. She stepped into the inky blackness and took tiny steps, her arms out in front of her, her hands groping the air. How far was it to the stairs?

Cowen’s voice boomed. “Your little game of cat and mouse is over, Vanessa. You’re going to wish I had strung you up. When I get my hands on you, I’m going to carve you up, piece by piece!”

Zoe stopped about ten feet into the dark void. “I can’t see a thing. I don’t even know where the stairs are.”

Pierce pulled the door closed and helped Vanessa over to where Zoe stood. “Okay, hand me the bat.”

Zoe was trapped in a long pause and finally found her voice. “I-I don’t have the bat.”

“Why not?” His hushed voice sounded angry.

“You just said to go upstairs, and I did. I didn’t think about the bat.”

“All right,” Pierce said, barely above a whisper. “Listen carefully. Our only defense is the dark. Don’t anyone move—or even breathe—when he opens that door.”

CHAPTER 31

Jude looked down the line of officers that stood between two opposing groups of protestors at Roux River Park. Could they prevent anger from exploding into violence?

He took his cell phone off his belt clip and keyed in Stone Castille’s phone number.

“Hello, Sheriff.”

“How soon before you and Mike can get out to Langley Manor?”

“We’re finished briefing the officers that arrived from Franklin and are ready to head out there now.”

“Good. I have a bad feeling that Cowen might go after the Broussards.”

“Before the banks close?”

“Just get out there and call me. Gil’s beeping in. I’ve been waiting for him to call back.” Jude switched over to the other caller. “So were you able to find the location of Vanessa Langley’s cell phone?”

“No. Either the phone’s off or it’s been disabled. But the last-known GPS coordinates came from the Vincent farm—about two hours ago. I don’t like it.”

“Me either. I think we need to go take a look. I’ll meet you at the farmhouse in fifteen minutes.”

“You got it.”

Jude disconnected the call and keyed in Ethan Langley’s cell number.

“Hello.”

“It’s Sheriff Prejean. Have you heard from your wife?”

“No. And I’m really worried. If there was any way for her to get to a phone, she’d call me. Were you able track her cell phone?”

“There’s still no signal. Sorry.” Should he tell Ethan about the GPS coordinates? Why add to his worry until they’d had time to check it out?

Ethan sighed into the receiver. “Something bad’s happened to her.”

“We don’t know that,” Jude said. “Let’s give Vanessa some credit. Her mother’s a cop. She must’ve inherited some of those instincts.”

“She’s no match for an angry drug dealer, Sheriff.”

“We don’t know that Cowen has even approached Vanessa. There could be another explanation for why you haven’t heard from her.”

“I can’t think of one.”

Jude couldn’t either, but he wasn’t about to strip Ethan of his last thread of hope.

Zoe crouched in the darkness with Pierce and Vanessa, aware of their shallow breathing and her own racing heart. Would Cowen notice the door in the closet? Would he open it? Would he hear their breathing? Would he smell their fear? Zoe willed away the tears that stung her eyes. Not now! All she needed was to start sniffling and give them away.

Was she ready to die and face the punishment that awaited her? Wasn’t her faith as disingenuous as her persona? Her confessions tainted with sins of omission? Wasn’t her presence at Mass merely for show—like keeping her rosary in the top drawer of the nightstand? Hadn’t she always known deep down that God wasn’t fooled by her performance, even if everyone else was?

Wouldn’t He expect her to pay for all the lies she told and all the people she deceived—and for the deaths of Pierce and Vanessa, if it came to that? Ethan said that God specializes in messes. But was this one too over the top, even for Him?

“Va-ness-a.” Cowen’s voice was singsongy and playful. “I know you’re in here. I’m following your muddy footprints. You thought you could get away from me.” His voice was again low and sinister. “No one gets away from me.
No one
.”

“I don’t think he’s bluffing,” Vanessa whispered. “My shoes are a mess. What do we do?”

“I’ll go stand on one side of the door,” Pierce said. “Maybe I can surprise him.”

“No, that’s the first place he’ll look.” Zoe reached out and found his arm and squeezed. “You’ll be safer back here. It’s darker.”

“I can’t just hunker down like a sitting duck,” Pierce said. “He’s liable to start shooting.”

“He’s right.”

Zoe froze. A stranger’s quiet voice had come from behind her, and she felt his breath on her neck. Her skin tingled with goose bumps, her heart nearly beating out of her chest.

Pierce turned toward the voice. “Who said that? Who are you?”

“Carter calls me the candy man.”

“How did you get in here?” Vanessa whispered.

“The same way I’m goin’ to get you out.”

Savannah put a fresh vase of flowers on the table that Hebert, Father Sam, and Tex had occupied since early that morning. The breaking news they had been anxiously awaiting still hadn’t happened. Why hadn’t the sheriff arrested Remy’s killer? The media made it sound as if an arrest were imminent.

“Why are dey dragging dis out?” Hebert said. “Gimme some rope, and I’ll end dis ting right now.”

Father Sam patted Hebert’s arm. “You don’t mean that.”

“But there are those who do,” Tex said. “They wouldn’t bat an eye at savin’ the taxpayers money by riddin’ the town of this scum.”

“Let’s hope we aren’t reduced to that.” Father Sam took a sip of coffee. “I just don’t understand why the media gets everyone’s hopes up before they confirm the information.”

“It’s all about ratings,” Savannah said. “The truth is secondary.” She sighed. “I miss Remy so much.”

“Dere won’t be anudder Remy.” Hebert reached over and slipped his hand around hers. “Dat boy was sometin’ special to all o’ us. Treated me like his
papere.”
Hebert’s voice quivered. “I’m trying to accept his death so dat I can be strong for Emile—poor fella is
motier foux.”

“I’d be half crazy too if someone murdered my child.” Savannah sighed. “It’s hard enough just being a friend. I want Remy’s killer brought to justice—the sooner the better.”

“Have you heard from Zoe and Pierce,” Tex said, “and whether they’re goin’ to Remy’s funeral tomorrow?”

Savannah shook her head. “They must be really engrossed in whatever business they’re doing because I haven’t heard from either of them today. I’m assuming Pierce wants Benson to take his shift tomorrow, too.”

“I just can’t imagine that the Broussards would miss Remy’s funeral”—Father Sam took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes—“what with Zoe being so fond of Remy all these years.”

“Maybe they wanted to get their business done so they
could
go.” Savannah squeezed Hebert’s hand and let go. “If you fellas need something, holler. I’ve got to get these other tables freshened up.”

Savannah walked out to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator where she kept the fresh-cut flowers for the vases. Something was going on with Zoe and Pierce. Why had the back door been left wide open? Why had the sheriff come in, asking questions about Vanessa Langley? Why hadn’t Zoe or Pierce called today to check in? In the four years she had worked for them, could she ever remember a time when they had gone twenty-four hours without calling an inordinate number of times to see how things were running?

“Hurry,” the stranger said. “He’ll be here any second. Everybody stand up. I’ll shine the flashlight on the stairs. You need to go down quickly and carefully. Move!”

“Zoe, you go first,” Pierce whispered. “I’ll help Vanessa.”

Zoe turned around and saw that the alcove went back another five feet or so to another door. She opened it and waited until the stranger shone the beam of light down a long, narrow staircase. She stepped down, holding the walls on both sides, and quickly made her way to the bottom, instantly hit with the cool temperature and damp, musty smell. A few seconds later the others were behind her.

The stranger shone the light on the far wall. “There’s another door behind that empty bookcase.”

Zoe hurried over to the bookcase and moved it aside, surprised that it wasn’t heavy. She pulled open the door and saw a narrow tunnel, barely high enough for her walk through without bending or touching the sides.

“Go on,” Vanessa said. “We’re right behind you.”

Zoe stepped inside and froze. Were those spider eggs on the ceiling?

“Everybody in the tunnel,” the stranger said. “We hafta put enough space between us and the fella with the gun so he won’t have light.”

“He’s got my key ring,” Vanessa said. “It has one of those blue lights on it.”

“Then we don’t have a second to waste!” the stranger said. “Move it!”

Zoe took a couple of tentative steps and stopped, aware of someone nudging her forward.

“Hurry,” Vanessa said. “I hear Cowan’s voice.”

Zoe felt as if she couldn’t get air, and her shoes were nailed to the floor. “I-I can’t see. Hardly any of the light from the flashlight is getting through.”

“Just go straight,” Vanessa said. “Hurry! He’s on the staircase!”

“Here, let me through,” Pierce said. “She’s terrified of spiders and small spaces.”

Zoe was aware of some shuffling behind her, then felt Pierce’s hand on her shoulder and saw that he was holding the flashlight.

“You can’t stop to think about this, Zoe. You just have to do it. I’ll help you. Come on.”

He held the beam of light on the path, and she kept her eyes down, aware of him pushing her down the tunnel at a rapid clip until they reached a wall—and what appeared to be a hatch overhead.

Pierce handed her the flashlight, then climbed the metal rungs that were secured to the wall and pushed up on the hatch until it opened, then jumped down, grabbed the flashlight, and tossed it to the stranger.

“Come on. I’ll give you a boost.”

Pierce locked his fingers together, and Zoe stepped on his hands so he could lift her onto the rungs. She climbed up to the top, blinded for a few seconds by the outdoor light. She stepped outside, felt the air, like a heavy, wet blanket, and realized she was in the woods.

One by one the others came up. Vanessa. Pierce. The stranger—an African-American man, unshaven and shabbily dressed, who appeared to be about fifty, give or take. Slight build. Kind eyes.

“Thank you for helping us! I’m Vanessa Langley. My husband and I own this house. Who
are
you?”

“Noah Washington. We’ll talk later. Right now, we need to spread out in these woods. The fella with the gun is only a minute behind us.”

“Can’t we sit on the hatch?” Pierce said, “and let the girls go call for help?”

“Not unless you wanna get shot in the behind.” Noah glanced around the woods. “There’s no time to find somethin’ heavy enough to hold him.”

Cowen’s muffled voice came from the tunnel. It sounded as if he was cursing now.

“Let’s pair up,” Noah said. “Mrs. Langley, why don’t you come with me?”