Murder at five finger light (26 page)
“Tanks,” she told him. “Large ones. At least one holds water and there’s another that was used for fuel, when the lighthouse was manned. That manhole is the only way in or out of an access space that amounts to a perfect concrete prison. And you say he’s made people go down there?”
“There’s eight of you, right—not counting Karen? I’ve watched four being forced down there, so that leaves you and Karen, and whoever else. I’ll asked you again, where is she?”
“I won’t talk to you about Karen,” Jessie told him shortly, thinking of Whitney and Aaron, who, besides Karen and herself, he had
not
seen forced into the tanks, but who probably had been by now. Curt had mentioned two couples, but said he was going back after the rest. But Cooper evidently knew that Karen wasn’t in the tank, or he wouldn’t be asking where she was.
not
seen forced into the tanks, but who probably had been by now. Curt had mentioned two couples, but said he was going back after the rest. But Cooper evidently knew that Karen wasn’t in the tank, or he wouldn’t be asking where she was.
There was an extended silence as Cooper stared at her, then said in a frustrated tone, “Well, I guess I can’t blame you. She’s told you all the bullshit she’s made up about me and you have no way to know she’s lying. She’s very good at convincing others that she’s an innocent victim. But I
will
find her, whether you tell me or not.”
will
find her, whether you tell me or not.”
“How should I know anyway?” Jessie asked, keeping her knowledge to herself. He was right that she had no way to know which of them was telling the truth.
Better safe than sorry,
she thought, before saying, “I’m not her keeper. I took off on my own after I heard him talking on the phone. Besides, how do you know he hasn’t caught her, and the others, and put them in the tank when you weren’t watching? He knows how many of us there are.”
Better safe than sorry,
she thought, before saying, “I’m not her keeper. I took off on my own after I heard him talking on the phone. Besides, how do you know he hasn’t caught her, and the others, and put them in the tank when you weren’t watching? He knows how many of us there are.”
“I doubt that he—” He stopped abruptly in mid-sentence and his focus shifted as he turned to look toward the trail behind him, in the direction of the lighthouse.
His body blocked her sight of the trail and she stepped aside to see what had caught his attention. In the absence of conversation, she could hear the sound of pounding feet coming rapidly in their direction, and the beam of a flashlight could be seen bouncing along ahead of whoever was running toward them.
“Let’s get out of here,” Cooper said and passed her to take off in a swift sprint toward the south end of the island.
Jessie wheeled and started to follow, but in her haste forgot about the hole that lay in the track. One foot slipped into it, tripping her into a full-length sprawl into the dirt of the trail, striking the side of her head on something hard as she hit the ground.
There was a moment or two of consciousness, of knowing someone had stopped beside her. Then she felt a hand roughly seize her shoulder and turn her over as everything faded. Then there was nothing at all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
WHEN JESSIE REGAINED AWARENESS, SHE WAS FLAT ON HER back and her first thought was to wonder why she was so cold. Opening her eyes, she saw nothing but blackness—listening, heard nothing but silence. She tried to move, but pain, sharp as lightning, stabbed through her head and compelled her to immobility with its savage grip. Helpless, she groaned, and someone spoke near her in the dark.
“She’s coming to.”
“I’ve got her.” Don Sawyer’s voice this time from just above her. “Lie still, Jessie. You’ve got a nasty lump on your head—maybe a concussion.”
Closing her eyes again, she assessed the pulses of pain in her head.
“What . . .” she started to ask, but her voice came out like the air from a tired balloon, unfamiliar and whispery. The single word grated in her throat as dry as paper, making her cough, and with each paroxysm the pain struck again.
“Don’t try to talk,” Don’s voice admonished. “It’s okay. You’re safe with us.”
“But what . . . where . . . ?” It was easier this time, but just a breath of a question and she did as told and didn’t move.
“I’ll tell you, if you just be still and rest.”
“Okay.” Another breath.
“We’re in the tanks under the platform. You remember the tanks Jim told us about—for water and fuel? Well, they’ve put us in the maintenance space between them.”
“They?”
“Yeah—Curt and someone we didn’t know. We don’t know who the second one is, why we’re here, or what they want. But Curt, at least, has a handgun. The bastard caught Sandra in the basement yesterday, when we were all at the other end of the island, and put her in here. She was scared to death in the dark by herself all the time we were looking for her, and that’s why we couldn’t find her. Then last night he made me and Jim and Laurie climb down. He was waiting when I came back in from outside sometime after midnight. After that, he got Aaron.”
“Why?”
“We don’t know.”
“I saw you go down the basement stairs, but I couldn’t see who was with you,” Jessie told him softly. “Then I went out looking for Karen and heard Curt talking on a cell phone.”
“So
that’s
why he couldn’t find you—or Karen. We wondered. He tried to get us to tell him where you’d gone, but none of us knew. Where is Karen—and Whitney? We haven’t seen either of them.”
that’s
why he couldn’t find you—or Karen. We wondered. He tried to get us to tell him where you’d gone, but none of us knew. Where is Karen—and Whitney? We haven’t seen either of them.”
When Jessie tried again to sit up her head hurt, but not so badly, so she stayed where she was for the moment.
“Karen’s hiding,” she said, as the pain faded again, “but I left Whitney sleeping in her bed. Where’s Aaron?”
“I’m here,” Aaron chimed in from somewhere nearby in the dark.
“Didn’t you hear him on the phone?”
“Not a word. I was sleeping on the west side of the roof and didn’t know anything till Curt woke me up with a gun in my face.”
“How long have I been here?”
“They brought you over an hour ago. We’ve been really worried about you.”
As he had named the members of the work crew, she could feel the concern of them all gathered around her in the dark.
“You make six,” Don continued. “Karen and Whitney are still missing, like I said. So were you, until they opened that manhole cover and told us to come and get you, or they’d drop you. It’s at least ten feet to the floor, so Jim and I reached up and eased you down.”
“Thanks. I’m glad I didn’t know it at the time. Is anyone else hurt?” she asked.
“Banged around a bit—mostly in getting down here. I’ve got a sore ankle, but nobody’s really hurt like you. Did they hit you with something?” Jim asked out of the dark.
“I fell in the trail and hit my head, I think.”
She could feel that she was lying on something hard and cold, with her neck across one of Don’s thighs. He shifted his weight slightly at Jim’s question and there was a flash of pain in her head, but a quite a bit less this time—she could stand it without feeling she would pass out again. Carefully, slowly, she raised one hand to the side of her head. There was, as he had said, a sizable lump where she had hit something. She had no recollection what, but nothing felt broken, though her hair was sticky with drying blood from a cut about two inches long. Remembering the pool of Tim Christiansen’s blood that the seawater had washed off the rocks, she was grateful that it had not been worse.
“They know how many of us there are and they’ll hunt until they find Whitney and Karen, I think—if they haven’t found them already. But if they’ve been caught, why aren’t they here with us? That handgun worries me.” It was Jim’s voice this time, near at hand, with a bitter note of anger in it.
“Why put us in here?”
“We have no idea, but they obviously wanted to get us out of the way for some reason. Curt wouldn’t answer questions or tell us anything. But there’s no way to get out, so we can’t make trouble for them—though I’d like to make a
lot
of trouble for them.”
lot
of trouble for them.”
“And you don’t know who the second one is?”
“Nope. Did you get a look at him?”
She could remember nothing but standing in the trail talking to Joe Cooper. “No. I don’t think it was Curt who was running on the trail and caught up with me, but I couldn’t see him before I fell. It was dark—in the trees. But there’s someone else out there—Karen’s stalker.”
“So he’s real?” Jim asked, surprise raising his voice.
“Evidently. You thought she made him up?”
“It crossed my mind that she might have.”
“Me too, but she didn’t. I met him—Joe Cooper.”
“Well, if Karen’s still loose, maybe she’ll be able to help us.”
“She won’t know where to look, will she? And she won’t want to run into Cooper.”
“Unless . . .” someone said, then stopped.
There was a tense pause full of consideration. Then Laurie spoke softly out of the darkness beside Jim and put words to the question Jessie could feel them thinking. “We can’t help wondering, Jessie. Could she be in on this with them? Could he?”
It was something Jessie had not really considered, but her head ached too much to give it much serious thought. Still . . .
An hour later she felt better, still shaky and a little nauseous, but was on her feet and feeling her way carefully in the dark along the cement walls of the room beneath the lighthouse platform. The walls were cold and slimy, dripping with water in places. The whole space smelled dank and moldy. Periodically she felt one of the isopods that so revolted Sandra and Aaron move beneath her fingers or heard one crunch underfoot. The space seemed lousy with them. She imagined them everywhere, crawling on the walls, the floor, even the ceiling for all she knew, and hoped none would drop off into her hair.
It was a confusing space with standing water in some places and felt almost like a maze, with walls that started and stopped unexpectedly and turned corners that didn’t make sense in the dark. The floor was uneven, with unexpected raised sections like some kind of footings for walls that no longer existed, or never had, and over which it was easy to stumble and fall if incautious. She couldn’t seem to be able to get hold of a mental map of the place, even after going over it twice.
Though he hated “the bugs” as he called them, Aaron had tried to help, but had not done much better and finally went back to sit with the others. Jim, more familiar with the space, having seen and explored it with lights in the past, was more able to make his way through without running into walls or losing his footing on the parts of the floor that were wet and muddy. But even he had trouble with orientation in the dark.
“Isn’t there any way out of here except for that round hole that goes up to the platform?” Jessie asked.
“Nope. And when we tried raising it awhile back we found that they must’ve dragged something heavy over it to keep it there. There’s only room for two at a time to reach it anyway and, whatever it is, I doubt all of us together could shift it now.”
“Any place we can see out?”
“There is one pipe through the wall on the cove side—maybe a drain, I don’t know. But you can’t see anything but a little light at the other end because it’s either angled down on purpose or bent. I’ve never really paid attention because it didn’t matter.”
He took her over to peer through the pipe at the small amount of light that told them it was now daylight outside.
Crouching there, with the width of the room between the two of them and the rest, Jessie lowered her voice to ask Jim his opinion of something that had been running through her mind.
“Do you think the cocaine we found last night has anything to do with this?”
“I’ve been wondering that myself,” he answered. “I haven’t said anything, but maybe we should ask Sandra about it and get it out into the open. If none of them knows where it came from it might tell us something, even if there isn’t much we can do about it.”
“And if someone does? It’s possible, you know?”
He sighed. “I don’t know—just don’t know.”
Finished searching the walls, they felt their way back in the dark and sat down with the other four.
“Sandra,” Jim said.
“Yes?”
“What was it you wanted to talk to me about last night—when you came back upstairs with that bottle of wine? You said it was about something in the basement, remember?”
There was a long moment of thoughtful silence from Sandra. Then, before she could answer, Don spoke up from beside her.
“She found something down there, Jim, that maybe you don’t want shared with everyone. Something that—”
“I can tell it, Don.” With a little good-humored irritation, Sandra interrupted him. “I should have said something earlier anyway.”
“What,” Jim asked, “did you find?”
“I didn’t mean to snoop, Jim, honestly I didn’t. I was just looking around. You know—it’s interesting how the lighthouse is built, so I walked back in that narrow space that extends south from the cooling room to get the wine you asked for and then a little farther, just to see how it all fit together. It was kind of dark with just the light from the cooling room and I didn’t have a flashlight, so I didn’t see that something stuck out beyond the wine boxes, and stumbled on it.
“In the dark I couldn’t tell what it was, but I felt around and there were two packages, one half on top of the other. Each one was over a foot square and maybe eight inches thick, and it felt like they were wrapped in some kind of plastic. I’d knocked the top one partway off and it was heavy and kind of soft when I picked it up to put it back. Then I felt that the corner was torn where I’d hit it with my foot, so I took it out into the light to see about that.
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