Aura of night a novel, p.27
Aura of Night--A Novel, page 27
Just like the food fight in the cafeteria at the facility.
When he reached Patrick, he thought he might be dead. Then he realized Patrick was struggling to speak.
And there was no sign of Megan.
Hugo was curled up and whimpering next to Patrick on the right.
And Dale Barrie lay by Patrick’s left side.
And he was dead. No question. He had been shot. A dark red stain bloomed over his entire chest.
“Megan!” Ragnar screamed her name, searching the panicked crowd.
Patrick tried to reach for him.
“Needle!” Patrick gasped. “Both of us... Hugo...that way...”
He pointed to the exit.
“Morris! Patrick, was it Morris?”
Patrick tried to shake his head. Tried to form words. He managed to mouth a name.
And beg, “Megan!”
Ragnar started to move, dialing for help as he did so, aware sirens were already sounding—the clerk had gotten through to emergency services.
Hugo was whining, trying to stand. Ragnar had no idea how someone had drugged the dog, Patrick, and probably Megan so quickly. Patrick was all but paralyzed as he lay on the floor. But Hugo was trying to move.
Ragnar swept the big dog into his arms, still careful with his Glock, and raced out of the facility for his car. He had to think.
Where?
And he prayed, somehow he would be able to find Megan in time.
And what he needed desperately now was to hear Megan’s voice in his mind.
Sixteen
Megan woke in a coffin. She didn’t know it at first; she woke to stare at darkness. She tried blinking furiously, and she knew her limbs and her mind were both groggy.
What had happened?
The shooting had started. She and Patrick had dragged Hugo with them under the table. Then they had seen someone about to accost Dale Barrie. Patrick had pulled his weapon and started out from beneath the table. Then he’d spun around, getting a shot off before he’d plummeted to the floor—a needle stuck in his arm. Hugo had whined and she realized the dog had been hit first—with a dart.
Then she’d seen the man in the hoodie. In disguise...
Same old disguise. Bad theatrics. The same bulbous nose.
She started to reach for the gun secreted at her ankle. But she didn’t make it. The needle slammed into her arm, hard, and the world disappeared, the sound of gunfire fading last.
She should have known. Maybe she had known; she’d just been getting to the truth, a truth that had been just beyond her reach...
Why?
Even in her fogged state, she knew that, to some, money did make the world go around. Some people killed because of the sexual rush they achieved from their act. Some practiced necrophilia, some got off on torture and pain.
The human monster truly made evil space spiders seem tame.
She thought of Patrick. She had to believe that her brother was alive, that he’d just been drugged.
Like Hugo. Fury burst into her fear—her dog! They’d hurt her dog. And whether she made it out of here or not, she had to hope that Hugo...
Stop. Think. You made it through a situation like this before!
She tried to move. Her limbs were unwilling. But she could breathe more easily, think, figure out her position, and...
She could hear conversation. Not because she had her sister’s acute hearing.
But because people were talking right above her coffin prison.
“We need to do this—fast,” a voice said.
“That wasn’t the deal,” another voice replied urgently. “I’m supposed to get to—”
“No, dammit, I killed a man to get her here!”
“I hope you killed the stinking brother and the wretched dog!”
“I killed Barrie and I wish to hell I had killed the brother instead. The brother, a doctor? Doctor? A shrink? Seeking to save lives? The asshole is quicker on the draw than a damned gunslinger. I’m bleeding like a stuck pig! That’s what we need to take care of—now! And killing the brother wasn’t the point, was it? I was told to get her the hell out of there and screw anything else. And there isn’t time for you to do any kind of playing around. Did you get the hole dug?”
That had been said by the man with the “bulbous” nose.
“Yeah, the hole is dug. I want to see her again. I want to...”
“You can dig her back up when some time has gone by.”
“I like them fresh!” She knew the one voice. The other she couldn’t quite place. It was familiar, too, and something about it just wasn’t quite right.
She stopped listening for a minute. She tried concentrating. Tried reaching her sister or her brother through the power of her mind. It might not be real; it was worth attempting. Nothing that they had was supposedly real, but there was no reason to give up on something that might work. Colleen had heard her once. She cried out in her mind for Colleen, Patrick...
Ragnar.
They have me in a coffin. I don’t know where. I don’t know how long I was out. I’m trying to get my strength back. They don’t seem to know that I have a gun. I can still feel it at my ankle, so I know that they didn’t take it away, though they may know that I now own a gun. I don’t think we went far; there is a little bit of light slipping into the coffin.
“I want to see her again!” the more plaintive voice whined.
Megan snapped her eyes closed. The coffin lid opened. Light poured on her.
She dared to carefully crack her eyelids, imperceptibly.
She tried concentrating again. Desperately.
We couldn’t have gone far. It’s still daylight. There are no windows on this thing. It’s barely walls. I can even hear trees rustling outside.
“I want her. Before I bury her. That was the deal.”
“I can shoot and kill you now, too. Damn, man, this one took everything. I’ve risked everything!”
“With that nose? This is really ridiculous. We do his bidding? I don’t think so. We take all the chances; he promises things that may not happen!”
Keep fighting with each other, keep fighting, Megan prayed.
She thought that she heard something. An answer in her mind.
Wishful thinking?
But she felt it with her mind, heard it in her mind, and believed it in her heart.
I’m coming!
It was Ragnar, promising her that he was close on her trail.
“She’s so beautiful!” the man went on.
“She’s been a thorn in his side. He wants her buried! Come on!”
The lid of the coffin was going to close again. She let her eyes fly open. She stared upward and knew she had to talk and play for time. It had saved her once.
She could only pray that it would save her again.
She forced a smile.
“Come on! I know you like to play! Puzzles, pretense. Come on now, win this argument with...”
She looked around the room and, momentarily stunned, she went speechless.
* * *
Logic? Or something else? Ragnar wondered.
They hadn’t taken her far. He could swear that he heard her whispering, saying just that thing. It was still daylight; if they had traveled a long distance, it would be getting dark.
Well, it wouldn’t be dark for several hours. But they still wouldn’t have taken her far; she was too valuable a commodity. They would want her dead and buried quickly.
Or rather, buried and dead quickly!
He called Jackson, then Mark and Colleen. They were already out on the road, too, but he felt that between him and the other members of the Krewe, he was closer.
To what, he wasn’t sure. He was gambling, but there was no choice. The Krewe was a large unit, and dozens of other agents would be searching in every conceivable direction.
He was heading to the closest place he knew about, a state forest.
Just twenty-two miles, toward the north, toward the east. He would find a rich state forest. And he was counting on making the right decision. But Hugo had leapt out of his arms before he had reached the door. And while a dog couldn’t possibly follow tire tracks or a vehicle that had taken off while in a vehicle himself, Hugo had found where the vehicle had been parked, and he’d barked like a maniac, stumbling a little as he’d returned to Ragnar, where Ragnar had helped him into the car.
They couldn’t be far ahead of him—if he was traveling in the right direction.
He was. He had to be.
Hugo—sitting next to him in the passenger’s seat—barked.
And, looking ahead, he saw that one of the entrances to the forest loomed before him.
Would they have used the legitimate entrance?
Yes—from there, they would have wound around until they came to the wildest, thickest part. They would have abandoned whatever car they had stolen. They would have carried her in, knocked out. It was amazing that Hugo had fought off the drug so quickly, but he thought that he had seen a dart by the dog. Maybe the dart hadn’t delivered its full dose. Maybe they had underestimated the size, strength, and abilities of the animal.
Or maybe they hadn’t cared. They’d just needed to get Megan away.
He was certain Ayers had maneuvered this episode. He’d demanded it after they had spoken with him and left the facility. He wanted his wife dead; he wanted Megan dead more. And he was the kind of man who would demand that his followers take any risk.
And now Ragnar knew what they should have seen all along. Except that it was painful to accept. He didn’t know it all...
Was there a partner? Someone waiting with a coffin—prepared for Megan. Or had the preparation been there all along?
From the first, he thought. Ayers had wanted Colleen because she was one of the agents who had discovered his daughter, Deirdre, buried in the woods. One of two agents who had saved her life. But he had also taunted Ragnar, telling him he’d have been just as happy with the sister.
Ayers had never stopped plotting to kill Megan. He saw her as easier prey, a woman not trained in law enforcement.
Ragnar drove on into the park, thinking of the massive number of acres it encompassed.
He needed a smaller trail. One that barely allowed a vehicle. Deep in the park, probably.
He asked his voice system to bring up a map of the state park on his phone, and he slowed to a crawl, studying the map.
A narrow trail led far to the northeast of the park.
No activities were listed in the area. No real trails led to it.
“There, Hugo,” he muttered.
The dog barked. He drove on, putting through a call to Mark, letting him know he’d advise him as soon as he found out if he was right and to keep Jackson informed.
He had to be right.
He drove on.
And he almost missed the rusty little foreign car that had been pulled tightly into the trails along a root-strewn dirt and gravel road.
He shifted his vehicle into Park. And then he either heard or thought he heard her voice again.
The coffin is open. I’m talking...talking... I pray you hear me!
His phone rang and he answered quickly, but also turned the volume off on incoming calls.
It was Colleen.
“I can hear her, Ragnar. I can hear Megan. She’s alive and she’s doing all she can to stay that way! But she doesn’t know where she is!” Colleen told him urgently.
“I think I’ve found her,” he said, stepping out of the car and waiting for Hugo.
Hugo sniffed the ground and barked, looking anxiously at Mark, running into the trees and then running back for him. He needed to follow.
“Mark has my location,” he told Colleen. “Get here. I’m trusting Hugo to take me to Megan.”
* * *
There was no one else in the room.
Just her captor.
Using two different voices, he’d been arguing with himself.
Had he been playing? Or had he been suffering a serious delusion?
“I need to bury you,” he said.
“Why? Because Rory Ayers said so? Because Joel Letterman is spilling all the beans, and Ayers will wind up executed? Were you always one of them—or did he promise you something?”
“Ayers won’t be executed.”
“I think he will. And let me ask you this—just how much of what you’ve been promised have you received?”
“I will receive it. And I’ve got you, don’t I?”
“Because someone is controlling Ayers? Someone else really calls the shots?”
“There’s a money man. Ayers calls his own shots.”
“Trust me. We learned enough from Letterman to find what we need. If you stop now, you won’t be guilty of murder. I could even say you rescued me from the shoot-out in the gun range.”
“You would never say that.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know I have to move quickly. They’ll be looking for you. This has to be done. I can’t let you go! I need my job, and my reputation is clean—”
“We know,” Megan interrupted dryly.
“I do like you.”
“Aw, that’s sweet. I always thought you were cool. Handsome. And you wore a uniform really well. And you have a sense of humor! You just don’t know what a plus that is in a man.”
His voice changed slightly. “There is time! I want to play—”
“No!”
Patrick would have a field day with him... He seemed to be the true definition of split personality.
“You hit my brother with the same stuff you gave me?” she asked. She prayed he was alive.
“He shot me!”
“But you intended to dose him anyway.”
“Had to—him and the damned dog. I knew superman Johansen would have to rush out to see what was happening, to save what lives he could.”
“How did you manage that?” she asked.
He started to laugh. “It’s a gun range. Shoot a few people with the right kind of weapon in a shooting gallery and the crowd goes wild shooting back. It was the easiest part of the whole thing. I tried to warn Dale Barrie, but...” He broke off and shrugged. “A sniper in the military! And the guy was a wuss! I guess he hadn’t believed I’d really try it.”
“Now?” she heard Barrie say. And he had been dismayed. Whatever deal he had made with the devil, he hadn’t wanted to pay his due.
“Bury her!” he suddenly roared.
“Wait! Look at her, those eyes, that smile!”
His expression changed oddly with his voice when the good and the bad took over. She wondered how he had managed to go about his work—day after day—and still appeared to be perfectly normal. He didn’t even have a sealed juvenile record.
Or a parking ticket.
Her limbs were coming back to life. She reached out and touched his face. She couldn’t let him get her into the ground.
“So clever!” she said. “You arranged for Amelia Ayers to be taken and buried. And you arranged for the fliers to go up that alerted the acolytes as to what women needed to be taken.”
He shrugged. “Easy enough.”
“Well, for you, yes, of course it was. Another man wouldn’t have done so well.”
His face took on a hardened expression. “Kill her! She’s playing you!”
“We’re having a conversation!” Megan snapped.
Again, the face change. “Yeah!” The softer expression was back.
“So, Ayers is promising money and a lot of it, I take it,” Megan went on. “And he conned you into doing all his dirty work for him. So, who killed Carver?”
That brought out a laugh—and a face change again. “I did!”
“What?”
“It was easy. We went into lockdown-all-hands-on when the food fight started. I rushed from my post to the cafeteria and made sure I was the one digging people off Carver. And luckily, there were a lot of them. I had the shiv. And that’s why it was never found. They didn’t search us!” He started to laugh again.
“But who started it all?”
He laughed again, truly enjoying himself.
“Carver started it.”
“Carver?”
“Ayers told him a lie about another prisoner. Through me, of course. Ayers pretended to be fuming about a man who he believed had been on the website and betrayed him. Carver believed he was starting the fight for a man to be killed—he just didn’t know he was the man who was to be killed!”
“A very cunning man, indeed,” Megan said. She needed to get the “nice” personality back. “You’re bleeding!” she said, concern and sympathy dripping in her voice.
“I told you—your brother shot me!” the angry personality said.
“Let me help you, please. That’s a lot of blood, and where you were hit in the arm... I don’t know that much about blood vessels, but I think you need a tourniquet at the very least!”
This time, though, she didn’t get the “nice” guy back.
“Enough! You’re stalling, and I have work to do! Now get in there!”
She had sat up in the coffin to talk. He pushed her shoulder. She desperately tried to think of a way to shimmy down and reach the gun at her ankle within the narrow confines of the box. It was impossible. She could fight, but he might knock her out and that could make matters worse once the lid of the coffin was closed.
And she was already beneath ground level.
“Wait, please, I’m telling you—”
She broke off.
There was a noise at the back of the cabin.
He drew his gun, heading in that direction.
“FBI!” came a roaring voice.
Ragnar.
Her captor swirled, drawing her halfway out of the coffin and against him, placing the nose of the gun at her temple.
