Heart Of Gold (41 page)

Soon, she
would be gone.

As she
faced the prospect of never seeing Nick again, her heart ached.

Slipping
into the forest, Carter scaled the mountain and found the campsite draped in
moonlight. She went to her tent, settled herself on her cot without changing
her clothes, and pulled her sleeping bag over her legs. Exhaustion overcame her
and she fell into a deep sleep.

She was awoken
in a rush when her tent flap was wrenched open.

“What
the hell are you doing?” Buddy demanded.

Carter
shot up, going breathless from shock. When she'd recovered sufficiently, she
said dryly, “I was enjoying a dream where I was rich and famous until you
woke me up.”

“I
thought we agreed you wouldn't be up here alone. What if Lyst had been here
when you returned?”

“He
wasn't. Where's Ellie?”

“Taking
a shower down there.” Buddy's expression softened. “She's still
pretty shaken up.”

“I
don't blame her. When's the next train?”

“There's
one at noontime. I came up here to get the stuff she left behind by the river.
You want to come?”

Carter
stretched. She hadn't slept for long enough but knew there would be no more
rest for her. “Yeah, sure.”

“Here.”
Buddy handed her a thermos. "I brought this coffee for me but it looks
like you need it more.”

“Thanks.”

He
grumbled and went back outside.

Carter
changed between slugs of coffee, and then they walked up the river to the place
where Ellie's yellow T-shirt was still hanging from a tree limb. With memories
of the night before chilling her, Carter put her head inside the small cave.

“It's
pitch-black in here. You bring a flashlight?”

“Jeez,
I didn't think to. But I have some matches.”

"Well,
you still get points for showing up with the caffeine.”

Buddy
handed the box to Carter, who lit one and leaned into the space.

“You
see my kid's backpack?”

“No,
but, man, it smells bad in here.”

“Rotting
earth?”

“With
a strong undercurrent of soggy dog. Ouch!” Carter exclaimed, flapping her
hand. She struck another match and took a step inside. The paltry light was
sucked up by the pervading darkness. She was peering around when the flame
reached her fingers again.

When she
swore out loud, Buddy laughed lightly. “I'm beginning to see a pattern.
There's got to be something we can light on fire around here.”

“You
mean besides my fingertips?”

When
Carter came out swearing one more time, he stuck some brush in her hand and
they lit it on fire. The dry leaves and thin network of branches threw off more
light and promised to have better staying power.

Moving in
through the entrance, Carter looked around, holding the branch in front of her.
She saw the backpack and went toward it only to have the light catch on
something farther back. Leaning down and squinting, she saw a dark shape in the
far corner.

“Did
you find it?” Buddy called out.

“Yeah.
But there's something else.”

“Don't
tell me
it's alive and has claws.”

“I
don't know what it is.”

She heard
a rustling behind her and then Buddy's voice was close. “What is it?”

Unfortunately,
the makeshift torch was losing its strength. In the flickering glow, Carter
reached out to the object she'd caught sight of.

“It
looks like an old munitions box.”

About two
feet long and a foot wide, it had leather handles on the ends that had mostly
rotted away. Covered with dirt and moss, it looked as if the earth had a
jealous hold on the thing.

Before
the light went out, Carter put her hand on top of the box. It was cold to the
touch.

“Metal,”
she said, wondrously.

And then
they were surrounded by blackness.

“Great,”
Buddy muttered. “You think a big rock ball is going to come rolling down
on top of us now?”

“You
know that only happens in the movies. You got more matches?”

He
struggled to light one but by the time Carter had knelt down, it was out.

“Maybe
we should come back with a flashlight,” Buddy suggested.

“No
way. Go find some more brush.”

She heard
him moving around and then a muffled thud was followed by a curse that came out
loud and clear.

Carter
pivoted around in the darkness. “You okay?”

“Backpack
got me.”

As she
heard the sound of his boots shifting more slowly across the floor of the cave,
her fingers searched for the box again. She was exploring the shape of it and
wondering what period it dated from when there was a click and the space was
flooded with light.

She
looked into the source of it, reaching an arm up to shelter her eyes. “How
did you—”

“I
love my daughter,” Buddy said cheerfully. “Such a good little
packer.”

Shining
the light on the box, he stood behind her as she inspected it.

“The
top's been corroded shut. This is old, Buddy, this is very old.”

She was
inspecting the object from every vantage point when Buddy sucked in his breath.

“Holy
Moses,” he murmured in astonishment.

“What?”

He nodded
at the wall.

She
looked up.

In rough
strokes, a cross had been drawn onto the stone by something that looked like
black ashes. It was barely visible against the lichen-covered walls but it
glowed in the light, a holy marker.

And then
Carter heard a grunt of pain and Buddy collapsed on top of her.

It was
late in the morning when Nick softly shut the door to Cort's bedroom. He felt
like he was surfacing from a nightmare, surprised and relieved to find
everything was as it should be.

The kid
had rebounded with vigor. After sleeping for a couple of hours, and with his
blood sugar level stabilized, he'd been released after breakfast. Although Nick
was glad to get him home, the kid's ability to recover quickly had always been
a concern. It made him worry that Cort wouldn't respect the gravity of his
condition.

But he
had hope, now. Courtesy of what they'd shared at the hospital, Nick felt as if
they were coming together to face the diabetes. Two against one. More of a fair
fight.

They'd gotten
even closer after returning home. Once back at the mansion, they had gone up to
Cort's bedroom and spoken for the first time about the deaths that had brought
their lives together. It had been a halting talk, full of long silences and
awkward hand-offs as questions were asked and answered. For the first time,
Nick had the chance to share some of his bittersweet memories of Melina with
her son. Cort had listened raptly, soaking in the descriptions of summer days
on the lake, of Christmases in New York, of his mother's debutante ball.

“Mr.
Farrell?”

Nick
turned to see Ellie standing in the hallway.

“Is
he going to be okay?” she asked anxiously. “I know they said so
but...”

“Yes,
he is. He's resting now but you can call him when you get back to Cambridge. He'll be anxious to hear from you.”

“Yeah?”
Hope and warmth flared in her eyes.

“Told
me himself.”

There was
a long pause.

“Is
there something you need, Ellie?”

“Have
you seen my dad?” There was subtle worry in her voice.

Nick
shook his head.

“He's
supposed to take me to the train station. He was going up the mountain to get
my backpack while I took a shower. That was around nine.”

From
downstairs, they heard the sound of the front door open.

“Ellie?”
Buddy's voice drifted up from the foyer.

Nick saw
relief surge into the girl's face.

“I'm
up here,” she called out and started walking down the hall.

“Do
you know where Mr. Farrell is?” her father asked, the words spaced
carefully.

Nick
frowned. Something was wrong. He could tell by the sliver of fear in the man's
words. “I'm right next to her.”

“Could
I meet you in your study? Ellie, I'll be with you in a sec.”

Coming to
the head of the stairs, Nick caught a glimpse of Buddy's back as he disappeared
around the corner.

Why was
the man covered in dirt, he wondered.

“What
about my train?” Ellie murmured.

“Stay
up here.”

When he
got to the study, he found Buddy standing in the middle of the room,
glassy-eyed from shock and bleeding from a head wound.

“What
the hell happened to you?”

“He
took her.”

Nick's
heart stopped pumping. “Carter?”

“We
need to call the police.”

“Who?”
Nick was struggling to make his mouth work. “What?”

“We
went to get Ellie's backpack and found something else in the cave. Carter and I
were in there trying to figure out what it was when someone hit me over the
head. I woke up, she was gone. I think it might have been Lyst.”

Nick felt
the world start spinning on its axis again.

“Any
idea how long you were out for?”

“An
hour. Tops. But it was long enough for him to make it down the mountain, with her.”

* * *

Carter's
head bumped on something hard and the pain woke her up. As her stomach rolled
in a queasy swell, she took a deep breath and smelled oil and gasoline.

Christ,
she was in the trunk of a car.

Opening
her eyes, she couldn't see anything and realized that she had some kind of sack
over her head. She began flailing around and found out her hands were tied. She
strained against their hold, getting nowhere.

She
remembered crouching down in the cave, reaching out to the strongbox, and then
being crushed by Buddy's weight. The flashlight had rolled aside and she'd seen
a dark shape coming toward her. She'd struggled with her attacker, then felt
something come over her face. The moldy odor of the cave had been replaced with
a sickeningly sweet smell and then all had gone black.

Where the
hell was she being taken?

Panic
made her start yanking at her hands, twisting them madly to try and get free.
Choking on fear, she felt the heat of her own gasping breath flood the inside
of the sack. And then she returned to the darkness again.

The next
thing she knew, hands were coming under her body. She was being lifted out of
the trunk and put on her feet. Her knees sagged and she was propped up against
the car. Fresh air seeped through the bag and she could see a lighter glow. It
was still daylight.

Her heart
began to beat in a rapid fire as her mind grappled with the facts. There was
only one person she could think of who would kidnap her.

“Feeling
better now that you're out of the trunk?” Lyst mocked, as if on cue.

“They're
going to find you,” she said inside the sack.

He pushed
her roughly off the car. “Shut up and get moving.”

He
elbowed her again and she took a step forward, stumbling because her feet were
loosely tied. After a few yards, Lyst jerked her to a halt and she heard a door
creak open. As she was shoved inside, her boots caught on something and she
started to fall, only narrowly saving herself. The door was shut.

She was
forced into a chair and Carter felt the tie around her neck loosen. The sack
was stripped off her head. She blinked myopically, adjusting to the dim light.
Ahead of her, wilted curtains were drawn, shutting out the daylight. She was in
a cheap hotel but, not knowing how long she'd been out cold, she wasn't sure
which state she was in.

She could
hear Lyst breathing behind her and felt true terror. She wondered in a surge of
panic if he was going to kill her and prayed that Buddy had made it down the
mountain to find Nick. That they were searching for her.

That they
would find her, somehow.

Tears
came to her eyes but she was determined to remain calm. Lyst was a sick bastard
and she knew he would feed off any weakness she showed. If she was going to
make it through this, she would have to be strong. At least on the outside.

“They're
going to catch you,” she said defiantly. “They're going to find you
and—”

Lyst
stepped in front of her and calmly slapped her across the face. Her head
snapped back in the chair and she felt a stinging pain in her cheek.

“Don't
piss me off, okay?”

As scared
as she was, the assault galvanized her. Instead of cowering, Carter's eyes rose
and met his with hostility. He seemed surprised and somewhat pleased by the
reaction.

“You're
one tough broad.” He smiled.

Lyst's
hair was messy and his clothes were dirty and disheveled, with darker patches
of dried sweat staining the shirt. She realized that he must have carried her
off the mountain.

He
sauntered over to the phone. “Now, we're going to reach out and touch your
lover. You better hope he's concerned with your physical safety.”

Lyst's
eyes trained on her, searching for a reaction. She refused to show him any
fear.

“I
don't know why you're doing this,” she said evenly. “We haven't found
the gold.”

“Don't
be naive.” He waved her comment away impatiently. “I don't give a shit
about the gold. What I need—want is money.”

Carter's
eyes narrowed. There was something behind the slip he'd just made and she
wondered if it held a clue as to what was driving him.

He picked
up the receiver. “If Farrell wants to keep you alive, he's going to have
to be really generous. What's his number?”

Carter
drew a blank. “I don't know.”

“I'm
sorry, I didn't hear you correctly.” Lyst's eyes lashed at her.

“I
don't have it.”

With a
speed that frightened her and made her rethink whether she might be able to
overpower him, he bolted from the bed and came up to her. He grabbed a handful
of her hair and yanked hard. “Tell me the goddam number.”