Pane and Suffering (23 page)

“This is much larger than I expected.” She could see the life-sized nativity Mary, Joseph, and even a camel wedged in the back. Both walls at the sides of the space were stacked six times high with office-style filing boxes. Each box was labeled with a date and number. “Where do we start?”

“You take that side and I'll take this. Hopefully he has all the paperwork bundled together and it'll be easy to find.”

Savannah looked at all the boxes. “The message said
books
, so more than one, but no idea how large.”

As she worked her way along the wall of boxes she lifted the top box, set it down in the small aisle behind her, opened the lid, and checked the contents. She got the next box, repeated the operation, and stacked it on top of the first. She continued until she had only one box left on the floor in front of her. After checking that box, she replaced the lid and in reverse order, lifted each box into its original position.

“Anything, yet?” Edward said as he replaced his first stack of boxes into their original order.

“Nope. Not in this stack.” She turned to tackle the next stack.

She had been searching for about ten minutes and reached into the top box of the third stack. “Hey, look. This could be it.”

She showed Edward a stack of slim brown leather journals that were dated fifteen years ago up to the present. The pages were written in a single hand with a page for each icon detailing all information associated with its discovery, acquisition, and sale.

They moved underneath the bare bulb and Edward flipped through one of the journals and whistled low. “He's been doing this for a long time. This is the documentation we need.”

“Great. Let's put everything back in its place and get out of here.” Her phone beeped an alert for an incoming text message. She pulled out her phone and swiped to the message. “It's from Amanda. She says he's back!”

Edward flicked off the light and opened the door to shut off the hall light, but he heard steps coming up the stairway. He ducked back into the room. “We have to get out of here. He's coming back.”

“Can we get out through the window?”

Edward looked up and stacked three boxes under the window and then two more in front of the three for a step. “I think these will hold me.” He stepped onto the short stack and then up to the tall stack, which brought him up to the window.

“It has hinges and should open.” He grunted and pushed the pull handle on the lower edge of the window sash. “It hasn't been opened in a long time.”

“Hurry. I can hear him now.”

“Unghhh! I . . . unghh . . . am . . . unghh . . . hurrying. There!” Edward pushed the window up and rying. There!” Edward pushed the window up and looked down to Savannah. She was frozen. “I'll get out here and you climb up here so I can pull you out.”

“Here. Take the notebooks.” Savannah climbed onto the tall stack of boxes just as Edward's feet disappeared over the rim of the windowsill. “I can't do this—you know that. I'll have to sneak out some other way.”

He popped up and his face appeared in the window. He reached in for the notebooks, then placed them down by his feet. He appeared in the window again. “No, you can't go another way. He'll find out we have the proof.”

He extended his arms inside the window again and reached for her. He held her forearms and pulled just enough to give her stability for getting through the window. They stood on a small platform on the roof of the church where it was easy to tell that this was the extended footprint of the abandoned tower.

“Follow me.” Edward picked up the notebooks and used the red setting on his flashlight to pick his way toward an access stairway at the other end of the roof.

Savannah hadn't moved from the spot where she stood after being dragged through the window. Her face and neck felt clammy with sweat and her one-handed death grip on the windowsill was causing her arm to ache.

All I have to do is take a step. One step
.

“Savannah! Hurry up! Come on!” Edward called to her in a raspy whisper. “What's wrong?”

“It's still my fear of heights. I can't move. I can't walk out there.”

Edward took a step toward her, then pulled up short. Reverend Kline was silhouetted in the window. He reached through the window, grabbed Savannah by the left shoulder, and pulled her tight against the window. He pressed his right hand against her bare throat.

“Don't move!” He yelled at Edward. “Don't move or I'll cut her throat.”

Chapter 31

 

T
heicy glint of the sharp blade revealed a box cutter in the reverend's right hand. The back of his hand pressed the point against the base of Savannah's throat.

Edward put a hand out in front of his chest, “Easy, Reverend. You don't want to do that. Savannah doesn't need to get hurt over this.”

The reverend pulled her tighter against the window. “You know about the icons. I can't let anyone know about them. They come to me to be restored to their holy purpose. No one can know about the icons. Give me the notebooks. Give me the notebooks and . . . and . . . and I'll let her go.”

“Please stop.” Savannah lowered her eyes and looked down at his hand holding the blade. “You can't think I'll be quiet now that I know you killed my dad.” She twisted around slowly so that she could see his face over her shoulder. Using a low, soothing tone, she said, “Reverend, you've got to give yourself up. You can't go on like this. You're not thinking right. You need help.”

“I don't need help. I'm the restorer of lost icons. I return them back to their original village churches in Russia. The people of those churches were so very grateful when one of their precious artifacts was returned to them. I would sometimes travel over there to participate in the ceremonies and blessings when an icon was restored. The celebration would last for days. I had to rescue them from oblivion. They were going to be added to private collections and hidden from the people. The icons didn't like that. They told me.”

Edward took a step toward her with the notebooks stretched out in front of him. “Here are the notebooks. Take them. Take them. Let go of Savannah.”

Reverend Kline pressed her even tighter into the window, the sill digging sharply into her back. “It was so easy to use the church funds to buy them back. Some of them I stole from selfish collectors. It was going very nicely until John was appointed as church treasurer. He spotted the financial discrepancies, immediately knew something was wrong and asked me to stop.”

“You didn't have to kill him. He would have helped you make things right.”

“He didn't understand. I tried to explain it to John, but he didn't understand how loudly the icons called to me. I could hear them cry for their homes when I found them. That's all they wanted. They wanted to go home. John didn't understand that.”

He yelled at Edward. “Hand those notebooks over right now.”

Edward was just out of reach in front of Savannah. “You'll have to let her go in order to take the books. Just drop the knife and I'll put them in your hand.”

The reverend kept the knife at her throat. “No, no, no. That's not going to work. You give the notebooks to Savannah first. Then after she hands them over to me, I'll release her.”

Savannah watched Edward inch toward her and extend the notebooks. She moved her right hand forward as if reaching for the books.

Edward halted. “Let up with the knife and I'll give them to her.”

The reverend didn't move. “Give the books to Savannah. I'll release her.”

“I won't hand over the notebooks with that knife so close to her throat. Be reasonable. You could slip. She could slip. Anything could happen. Just loosen up a little. That point is close to breaking the skin.”

Reverend Kline slowly released his iron grip on Savannah's left upper arm and her back sprung away from the windowsill, leaving an ache and the start of a cramp. He slightly relaxed the hand that held the blade pressing into her throat but didn't let go.

“Savannah, get the books with your left hand. Reach out now.”

Savannah stretched out her arm.

“Good. Thank you.” Edward took a cautious step toward them. “I'm handing the notebooks over to Savannah so she can give them to you and we can go. You don't want to hurt her. You can't hurt her. You've known her since she was a baby. You christened her. You watched her grow into a young woman.” He stepped closer and reached out the notebooks with both hands.

In her ear, Savannah heard the reverend's raspy whisper. “Take the notebooks, Savannah. Take them from him.”

Savannah exhaled a controlled breath and gritted her teeth.
Reverend Kline is lying. He's going to keep me at knife point in order to control Edward.
“That is not going to happen, Reverend. You killed my dad.”

She sharply slumped back against the reverend and blocked the knife by snapping her right forearm up into his arm then back to his forehead. She heard him gasp at the ferocity of the punch and felt a sharp pinch at her collarbone. “Run, Edward.
Now
!” she shouted louder than she believed was possible.

Still terrified of the box cutter's sharp edge, Savannah turned around and slammed the window down on the outstretched arms of the reverend. The box cutter dropped from his hand and skittered down the roof. She registered a faint clink as it fell to the paved parking lot.

He yelped in pain. “My arm! You've broken my arm.” He raised the window awkwardly with his left hand, cradled his right arm, and slowly slid down and disappeared from view. Savannah could hear his moans but turned away. She needed to get to Edward.

He hadn't moved. She bent her knees and tentatively took a step toward him, but her balance was off. To recover, she windmilled her arms, but that only made it worse.

Reaching out to save her teetering balance, Savannah jerked the notebooks from Edward's outstretched hand. The unexpected pull caused him to tip over backward. His feet skittered on the tiles and he slid down the slanted slope of the church roof on his side.

Savannah froze when she saw him disappear over the edge of the tiled roof. “Edward,” she whispered in a high shrill voice. “Edward! Answer me.”

He replied in a tense voice, “I'm just over the edge of the roof. There's a gutter here that looks ancient, but it's holding me for now. I can't pull myself over. I need help.”

By leaning over, Savannah could see his hands holding the gutters. She watched him struggling to get his chest up and over the protruding gutter.

The fear in her stomach was boiling over, but she pushed it down and put it in a place where it could boil alone. She forced her stiff legs to take a tiny step toward him. With one tiny step after another, she inched along the peak of the roof until she was even with where he was hanging.

Getting down on all fours, she crawled backwards down the sharp pitch. Slowly, slowly, slowly was the answer. Fear was what got her on the roof and moving towards Edward. She couldn't let anything happen to him.

When she had traveled down the tiles to within a foot from the edge, she reached into her back jean pocket. She pulled out her dad's Swiss Army knife, opened the ice pick attachment, and plunged it into the roof as deep as it would go. “I'm here, Edward. Hang on just a bit longer.”

Interlocking her fingers, she grasped the red knife handle with both hands and let her entire body lie flat on the roof with her legs dangling over the edge of the slope. “Edward, climb up on me. I'm anchored and can take the weight.”

“We'll both go down.” He gasped from the effort of pulling himself up.

“No, you must trust me. I can be your ladder.”

“But—”

“Do it now!” Savannah screamed.

She felt Edward's hand grab the shin of her right leg and then felt his weight shift as he grabbed her left knee.

“Now, grab my belt at the back of my waist.” She tightened her grip on the knife and pressed her forehead against the roof shingles.

She felt his weight on her lower body and then the weight was gone. He was lying faceup on the roof next to her with his smile lighting up the night sky.

Panting like a steam engine, he looked into her eyes. “I thought you were afraid of heights? What happened?”

“I was terrified. But I was more afraid of letting you fall. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I just stood there and watched.”

The police announced their arrival with sirens and flashing lights. Amanda, cell phone in hand, ran up to them, pointing at the roof.

Edward looked over. “I'm fairly impressed with the strength required for glassblowing. Woman, you are strong—really strong.” His eyes opened wide as he looked at the blood soaking into her shirt. He used his handkerchief to press the wound.

“He stabbed me!”

“This will help a wee bit, but we need to get you to hospital as quickly as possible and that means getting off this roof.”

“But, I can't get back up there.”

“Oh yes you can. You got down here. You can get back up.”

Savannah was beginning to feel that his voice was fading away into a black fog. She knew she had to move or the fog would overtake her. With the stability of his grip on her arm, she crawled back to the peak of the roof and over to the window. Through a dizzy fog, she recognized the face of Detective Parker reaching out for her.

“Let's get you down to the EMTs.” Parker looked at the cut on Savannah's collarbone. “That's going to need some stiches.”

Savannah nodded and let Detective Parker lead her over to the flashing vehicle. She got a glimpse of Edward and Amanda being driven away in a cruiser. “Where are they going?”

“They need to be interviewed and fill out statements so that we can press charges. As soon as you get treated, I'll be doing the same with you.”

“As long as I don't have to talk to Officer Boulli, I'm good. Where's Reverend Kline?”

“He was taken to the emergency room to see to his injury.”

Savannah let Parker help her into the back of the EMT vehicle. He began to walk away and then turned to her, “You know, I thought Edward was my principal suspect because his fingerprints were on the mug. I would have been very wrong.”

Savannah's eyes widened, “Edward?” Then she tilted her head back and laughed. “Edward brings coffee, tea, and scones to Webb's every morning. He's been doing that for months for my dad.”

“You saved me from making a career-limiting decision. I won't forget it.”