Midnight Train to Paris (17 page)

“It’s okay,” he says. “I’m here.”

Relief floods through me as I
realize that Samuel is the first person who knows the story of my past…and he
loves me anyway. The warmth of his body pressed against mine as we trek side by
side through the mountains gives me the courage to keep talking. To tell the
truth about the inexplicable voyage I’ve just experienced.          

“When that baby mobile started playing, something happened,”
I begin. “I felt my body leaving your side…and I went to Isla. It was like a
movie. I saw everything that had happened to her in the past few months in the
most vivid, colorful clarity…as if I were actually there.”

Samuel nods, taking in my outrageous story as if it’s totally
normal. “What did you see? Maybe it will help us.”

“First, I saw Isla posing for Christophe, the painter. But
Frédéric was watching them. The look in his eyes…it was possessive, fierce,
jealous. He knew he was losing her. That look alone makes me certain he must’ve
had something to do with her abduction, not to mention the way he went nuts on
me when he caught me snooping in his bedroom.”

“What else?” Samuel asks as we set off up a steep incline.

“Next, I saw Isla holding a positive pregnancy test, crying
out of joy because she knew it was Christophe’s baby. Then I saw her dressed in
a long black dress, walking into a private room…with Senator Williams.”

Samuel raises a brow but lets me continue.

“You were right. She blackmailed him into resigning. He
wasn’t buying it until she shoved a photo into his hands.”

“Proof from all those years ago?” Samuel asks.

“Yes. I couldn’t see the picture, but the look on his face
said it all. She finally got her revenge. Then the scenes began to speed up. I
saw her leaving a note and her engagement ring for Frédéric and dashing out of
the party to go to the train. I traveled with her on the train…and I watched
it all happen, Samuel. I saw her being taken. As much as I wanted to, I
couldn’t stop it though. I was powerless. I stayed next to her as the man
forced her through the mountains at gunpoint, but the scene zipped by so
quickly, and suddenly we weren’t outside anymore.” I stop speaking, remembering
the next terrifying part with such clarity, it sends a violent shiver through
my entire body.

Samuel’s inquisitive gaze is hanging on my last words. “What
happened next?”

“We were in a nursery.
The same nursery you and I were just in at the cabin, only an updated version
seventy-five years in the future.”

“Holy shit,” he whispers. “Was she okay?”

“She was tied up to a chair, her mouth covered with tape. But
that time, she saw me, and she could hear me. I told her I was coming for her,
and I made her promise not to give up. Then, as quickly as I’d found her, I
felt myself being pulled away. That was when I woke up back in the
old
nursery…in 1937, with you.”

Samuel stays silent for a few moments as he helps me climb
over a massive tree trunk lying on its side in the snow. Once we both make it
over, he looks me straight in the eye. “I do think Frédéric had something to do
with Isla’s abduction, and of course we can’t rule out possible involvement
from Senator Williams because he certainly had motive. But if Isla really is
being held in that same nursery in the future, Hélène Morel could have
something to do with this too. After all, we know now that she had motive.”

“She lost her baby girl,” I say quietly.

Samuel nods. “The Morels want Isla’s baby. They took
Madeleine from Rosie, and they’re going to do the same to your sister. Unless
we can stop them first.”

The
winding path we are following around this colossal mountain seems to be never-ending.
A deep-seated exhaustion like nothing I’ve experienced before settles into my
bones, each strenuous step in the snow making my legs scream in pain.

Samuel powers ahead, each stride
more determined than the last. If he is as tired and worn down as I feel, he
certainly isn’t showing it.

“What if that map was just a decoy
to lead us deeper into the mountains and ensure that we would
never
find the girls?” I say in between
labored breaths.

“I don’t think those men were
expecting company last night, so I believe the map is real. It can’t be far
now,” Samuel assures me as he leads us confidently through this abyss of trees,
snow, and nothingness.

I ignore the grumbling of my empty
stomach as we wade through the snow in silence, and Samuel keeps an eye on our
surroundings to make sure
we
don’t
have any company.

Just as we round a bend in the
mountain, a splash of red on the trunk of a large oak tree catches my eye. As I
blink, more flashes of red appear before my eyes—this time forming a trail of
scarlet drops in the snow.

“Samuel, do you see that?” I ask as
the flashes come more violently, faster than before.

“What is it, Jill?”

I barely hear Samuel’s voice as a
vivid, gruesome scene unfolds before me.

A tall, angry looking man is hiking
over this same snow-covered path with a woman thrown over his shoulder. Her
long, silky black hair swishes over his back as drops of blood trickle from her
head, staining the snow crimson. He grunts as he shoves her limp body off his
shoulder, slamming her back against the trunk of the towering oak tree.

She slides down the tree, landing on the ground with a thump,
leaving a mess of blood on the trunk. Her chin falls to her chest as her long
black hair sticks to the blood speckling her olive skin.

The girl’s almond-shaped eyes are closed, and there is no
sign of life in her beaten, slumped body, but I recognize her immediately. “
Francesca Rossi
,” I whisper. Twenty-six
years old. Italian. The third girl taken in Isla’s abduction, and the one who
had no known connection to the Morels. I can only assume that poor Francesca
was taken for the same reason as I was—for being in the wrong place at the
wrong time.

The hefty man who was carrying her lifeless body bends over,
hands on his knees, sucking in a long, deep breath.

Just as I envision pushing him over and shoving the barrel of
my gun into his temple, a piercing cry breaks the silence in these frozen
mountains.

Isla.

In an instant, Isla and her abductor appear before me. Her
mouth is still covered in a thick piece of duct tape, but she
isn’t
being quiet anymore. Fire blazes
in her violet eyes as she spots a lifeless Francesca, bloody and fallen against
the tree. Isla’s captor keeps her moving though, prodding her through the snow
at the command of his gun.

“Isla!” I scream into the forest.

My sister’s eyes dart frantically in circles until suddenly
they lock with mine.

“Isla, show me where they’re taking you,” I tell her. “Calm
down and show me, okay?”

She nods in understanding, silencing her stifled cries and
picking up her pace.

She disappears around the next bend in the path, and as I try
to follow her, my vision refocuses on the concerned face squared two inches in
front of me—Samuel.

“Jill, come back! It’s me, Samuel. What’s happening to you?”

I grab his shoulders. “They’ve already killed Francesca Rossi
in the future. Isla is the only one left. Follow me. We don’t have much time.”

I take off running past the looming oak tree and around the
same bend that Isla just took. Samuel’s footsteps follow close behind as I pump
my knees and charge ahead, not allowing the deep snowdrifts to break my pace.

Suddenly the path we were following around the mountain
disappears into a sea of pine trees that soar so high into the sky, they block
almost all light from breaking through. I stop running, my heavy breath forming
puffs of icy white air at my lips as my heart thumps in my ears.

Come on, Isla. Show me
where they’re taking you.

I comb the wall of pines surrounding
us, searching for an opening, for the path that will lead us to my sister and
to the young, innocent Rosie Delaney. To the path that will help us stop this
vicious crime from going any further.

Samuel’s hand lands on my shoulder
just as Isla’s voice soars into my consciousness.

“Look
to the right.”

I
follow her instructions, flicking my gaze over my right shoulder. At first, all
I see are two more massive trees blocking my view. But as I take a few steps
closer, a glistening, pointy white spiral off in the distance comes into focus.

Breaking into another wild run, I
squeeze in between the thick tree trunks, pushing heavy, snow-covered branches
out of my way until finally I reach the top of a clearing.

“Jill, what the—” Samuel starts as
he catches up with me. But the spine-chilling view before us swallows up his
words.

Nestled at the bottom of the clearing,
in between two steep, tree-covered mountains, is an immense castle adorned with
four imposing spiral towers that shoot toward the sky. Their sharp points are
shimmering and nearly transparent, like rows of icicles melting in the sun. The
castle’s tall stone structure is the exact color of the blanket of sparkling
white snow it sits upon, and the only thing separating us from entry is the
river of ice that slithers around the perimeter like a snake.

Samuel’s hand wraps around mine, but
neither of us says a word.

We know what we have to do…but the
question is, how in the hell will we pull it off?

Samuel
and I have silently traced the entire circle of trees that line the clearing,
searching for a more inconspicuous—not to mention
viable
—entrance than the closed drawbridge that looms on the
opposite side of the icy moat, blocking access to the front door.

“All of the windows are too high,
and I don’t see any other way in,” I whisper to Samuel. “Do you?”

He pulls the map back out of his
pocket, and after studying it for a few moments, he points at a tiny mark located near the back of the
castle. “See this? If you look closely, it looks different than the other X
marks. More like a cross.”

“What do you think it means?”

Samuel glances back down to the
snowy lawn that slopes toward the back side of the castle. He squints, his eyes
fixating on something.

“If this is what I think it is, we might have another way
in.”

Before I have a clue what he’s talking about, Samuel leads me
back around the wall of trees, stopping behind one of the thicker pines so that
we are completely hidden.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Depending on who is inside that castle…or even who might
actually
live
there, the person
behind the abduction may not want the men dragging the girls across the
drawbridge and in through the front door. Plus, with a property this huge, that
bridge can’t possibly be the only way in. I think the cross on the map may be
indicating an underground tunnel entrance that leads to the back side of the
castle.”

I raise a questioning brow at my
sexy partner, about to tell him how farfetched his theory sounds, but as I
steal another glance at the freaky ice palace hidden in the middle of the Alps
in
1937,
I realize
farfetched
doesn’t even begin to cover
it. “If there is some secret entrance, how are we going to find out without
running right into the clearing? We’ll be spotted immediately.”

“If I’m right, then there has to be
a small part of the hill where the snow has been shoveled aside to reach the
entrance. I’ll go search for it, and I want you to stay here with your gun
ready.”

“But, Samuel—”

His finger on my lips shushes me.
“Jill, I know what I’m doing. I’ll be quick. I want you to keep an eye out. And
don’t be afraid to use the gun if you need it.”

“If you find this secret tunnel
entrance, what then?”

“I’ll get the door open first, then
I’ll motion for you to come.
Do not
come a moment sooner, no matter what happens. Do you promise?”

“Yes, I promise,” I say.

Samuel lifts a brow at me, the look
on his rugged face still strikingly handsome despite the stressful
circumstances we are facing.

“
I
promise,
” I say once more. “What’s the plan if we make it inside?”

Samuel takes my hands in his,
locking his strong gaze on me. “
When
we make it inside, no lives will be spared if they’re blocking our way to find
Rosie and Frances.”

Just as I am nodding in
understanding, Samuel brushes his lips against mine, the warmth of his
passionate kiss sending tingles through this freezing, tired body of mine.

As our lips part, I press my
forehead against his. “Thank you for being such a bad-ass partner in crime,” I
whisper.

A sly grin spreads over his full
lips, and after one more toe-curling kiss, Samuel takes off past the shield of
trees and into the open clearing. Fearless and determined, he runs swiftly and
quietly, a moving target willing to sacrifice everything to save these women.

My heart thumps inside my chest as I
reach for my gun and aim it toward the castle. I comb the endless rows of
windows that line its white stone walls, before scanning the snow-covered
rooftop and the towering spirals, but there isn’t a soul in sight. Samuel is
almost to the edge of the river when he crouches down so that he is almost
completely out of my line of vision.

I creep a little closer, stepping
onto a leveled tree stump to get a better view of what he’s doing. Not more
than a few seconds pass before he stands, takes a quick look around, then
motions for me to follow him.

A paralyzing terror seizes me, but the fear evaporates the
minute I remember the brutal man who forced Isla through these same mountains
at gunpoint, and the men who did the same to Rosie and Frances.

They won’t get away
with this.

Seconds later, I’m half-way across
the clearing, my legs pumping fiercely toward Samuel.

Just before I reach him, he turns,
aiming his gun toward the castle. An ear-splitting gunshot breaks the pillow of
silence that had been comforting me up to this point. Samuel is still standing,
defending me as he fires more shots. I don’t break my stride to see who he is
shooting at.

“Behind me!” Samuel shouts just before firing another shot.

More blasts sound through the mountainside as I slide to my
knees and land right next to a metal door that Samuel has wrenched open.

“Get inside!” he orders.

The sound of one final gunshot blasts past my ears as I slip
into the dark hole and fall several feet below to the cold, wet ground.

Samuel tumbles in after me, collapsing back against the wall.

I reach for him through the murky blackness that envelops us,
but when my fingertips meet a patch of soaking wet fabric clinging to his skin,
I realize why his breathing is so shallow, why his body is slipping to the
ground.

Samuel has been shot.

“Oh
my God, Samuel, they got you,” I whisper as I kneel down in front of him,
reaching blindly for his hands.

“It’s just my side. I’m okay,” he assures me, but by the way
he is sucking in air, I can tell he is anything but okay.

“What can I do?” I ask him, trying to stifle the helplessness
that is threatening to take over. “I can’t see a damn thing.”

“Whoever shot me knows we made it inside,” he says. “We have
to move. We don’t have much time.”

“Samuel, you can’t—”

“Jill, trust me. I’ve been through worse. This won’t stop me.
Just help me up, and we’ll do this. Okay?”

I remember the thick scars lining Samuel’s back and chest,
the tattoos and muscles he has acquired in the years since we broke up. He
knows what he can handle. I need to have faith in him too.

“Okay,” I say. “Just tell me if I’m hurting you.”

I slide my arm around his waist and help him to his feet.
With my other hand, I reach through the icy blackness until my fingers brush
against a stone wall. The two of us set off together through the tunnel,
keeping silent in case our next attacker is hiding somewhere in this spooky
underground maze.

I can feel Samuel clutching his side, but he keeps my pace
without a single complaint. The dimmest of lights off in the distance sheds an
eerie glow down this damp, suffocating pathway, and as we tread a bit farther,
we reach the bottom of a winding stone staircase. One lone candle flickers at
the top, inviting us to its heat, to its light. With each step we take,
Samuel’s muscles tense up, and my own chest tightens with fear.

Although I know we have no other choice but to continue on
this crazy path, I can’t help but wonder if we are we walking ourselves right
into a trap.

A tall stone archway looms at the top of the dungeon-like
staircase. Before I can get a clear picture of what lies beyond its opening,
the candle that lights our way flickers, and a gust of wind steals its flame.

Oh, shit.

“Don’t move,” Samuel whispers as he leaves my side, pulling
his gun and heading toward the doorway.

I blink my eyes, trying to readjust to the darkness, when a
whisper of a voice passes through my ears.

“Hurry, Jilly. She’s
going to kill me.”

Chills slither up my arms as I remember hearing these exact
words when I was only thirteen years old, on the day I ran home from the school
newspaper to save my sister from dying at the hands of our own deranged mother.

Isla’s message had reached me then, loud and clear, but this
time, as I shiver in this dark, freezing staircase in some godforsaken castle
buried in the Alps, I know that Isla
isn’t
talking about our mother.

A loud clattering noise snaps me back to the present.

Samuel.

Yanking my gloves off, I shove them in my coat pocket and
reach for my gun. The metal feels shockingly cool against my hands as I inch
toward the doorway, being careful to keep my back pressed against the wall. The
unmistakable sounds of a struggle on the other side send a shot of adrenaline
through my veins.

Samuel is strong, but he is also wounded. I can’t let him do
this alone.

I aim my gun and round the doorway, but a sudden blast knocks
me back against the wall.

My heart constricts before I can bring myself to open my
eyes.

A hand on my shoulder prompts me to let out the breath I’ve been
holding. It’s Samuel, standing before me, gripping a smoking gun in his other
hand.

Two feet away from us, a man lies slumped on the ground,
silky red blood pooling out from the hole in his chest.

“It was either me or him,” Samuel whispers. “Come on, let’s
go.”

But Samuel’s voice is cut off by a wretched shriek that soars
through the castle and into the candlelit hallway. I flinch as another shrill
scream rattles my ears.

“What is it, Jill? Did you see something again?” Samuel says.

“Didn’t you hear that? The screaming?”

He shakes his head. “No, I didn’t hear anything.”

I take a deep breath, hoping I’m not losing my mind.

“Just because I didn’t hear it doesn’t mean it wasn’t real,
though,” Samuel says. “Everything you’ve seen so far has led us to the right
place. Where did it come from?”

But again, I barely hear Samuel’s voice because another
panicked cry rings through the castle—this one from a voice I recognize.

Isla.

“Follow me,” I tell Samuel as I take off down the dim
hallway, chasing the sound of my sister’s cries, which grow louder and more
desperate with each passing second.

A few moments later, we emerge into a large salon. Pale blue
candles line the perimeter of the room, their flames casting eerie shadows on
the periwinkle walls while wax drips onto the slippery, white marble floor.
Shimmering white drapes billow as gusts of bitter winter air blast in through
the open windows.

The wind picks up, relinquishing all of the flames in one unforgiving
gust. I grip Samuel’s arm as another distressed cry travels through the newly
darkened space.

“I heard that one,” Samuel whispers. “It’s Rosie. Come on.”
He takes my hand and leads me through the icy salon and down another winding
maze of candlelit hallways.

I try to focus on the path ahead, on keeping pace with
Samuel, on making it to Rosie and Frances before another life is lost, but
intense, terrorizing visions seize me with each step.

I see the gun pointed at my sister’s unborn child as her nameless
captor forces her along this same path. I see her blood splashing across the
smooth marble floor as the man smacks her across the face when she
refuses to stop screaming.

And I hear her voice.

Isla is calling for me. She is howling my name.

“Jill, come on!” It’s Samuel, calling me back to the present—or
the past—or wherever the hell we are. “We’re close,” he whispers. “Stay with
me, Jill. Please, stay with me.”

I focus on Samuel’s strong stance, on the way he is charging
ahead despite the wound in his side that is leaking blood through his shirt,
threatening to drain all his strength.

“We are close,” I say, trying to blink away the raging
flashes that plague my vision.

I have never felt Isla’s presence, her fear, her terror, more
than I do in this moment.

At the sound of footsteps thumping down the hallway behind
us, Samuel grabs my hand and breaks into a run. More screams and cries blast
through my ears, and as we round another corner, I realize I don’t know anymore
whether those panicked voices belong to Rosie, Frances, Isla, or even to
myself. It’s as if I’m straddling a tightrope between the past and the future,
and at any given moment, I could plummet to either side.

Tall white candles flicker alongside us, lighting our way
through these icy, stone-arched hallways as the pounding footsteps grow louder.

“See that door up ahead to the left?” Samuel says. “Go hide
in there, and have your gun ready.”

“But what are you—”

“I’ll handle it, Jill.
Go.
”

In an instant, Samuel’s strong hand slips from mine. Without
turning back, I sprint toward the tall white door down the corridor. Just as I
push through and close the door behind me, the booming sounds of bodies
slamming against walls out in the hall and fists breaking skin make me flinch.

But when I open my eyes, the scene before me steals my
breath.