Last Writes (33 page)

She began to second-guess her intuition about coming to the bomb shelter. What if Kylie and Stedman weren’t even here? What if—She glanced up from checking her watch for the umpteenth time. Jovanic had disappeared from sight.

 

 

 

Claudia ran toward the shadowed end of the hallway and for the first time realized that it did not dead-end as she had supposed. She was standing in the stem of an L-shaped structure. Jovanic had gone around the corner.

A moment later he reappeared from the arm of the el and came close to her, pressed his lips to her ear. “There’s a long incline leading down. At the end there’s a curtain drawn across the opening. They’re chanting.”

Claudia’s palms felt sweaty and she found herself gulping air as if she couldn’t get enough. “They must have started the ceremony. Joel, we’ve got to get down there.”

“I know.” He gave her a quick, hard kiss. “Let’s go.”

The incline had no lighting of its own, but the amber fluorescents of the hallway behind them glowed eerily into it. Just enough light to see where they were going. Claudia hefted the Maglite. They could not use it for illumination in case it alerted Stedman and the others, but she was ready to use it as a weapon if she had to.

About two-thirds down the grade, she began to hear the chanting. Pleasant alto voices, somber Latin-sounding words. Gregorian, or something like it, muffled by a heavy black velvet curtain. The cloth barrier was all that stood between them and the rite taking place on the other side.

Jovanic got down in a crouch. Slowly, carefully, he moved the edge of the curtain aside and put his eye to the opening for a quick glimpse, then let it fall back into place. He motioned Claudia back up the incline so he could tell her what he’d seen.

“Five inside; four facing away from us. No sign of Kylie or her mother.”

Claudia’s heart sank. She had been so certain that the chanting would lead them to the little girl. “What do we do now?”

“We wait and watch.”

They returned to the curtain. Jovanic had her do as he had done so she could see what they faced on the other side: a large cavern. Rough-hewn stone, the roof above disappearing into darkness. Wall sconces with fat candles, flickering light, dancing shadows. At the far end she could make out four figures in dark hooded garments kneeling before a massive block of natural stone. They faced a fifth hooded figure standing across the structure from them.

As Claudia watched, hardly daring to breathe, the one standing raised his head and lifted his face toward the ceiling. The hood fell back on his shoulders, exposing the balding head and white beard of Harold Stedman. From where she stood his face seemed impassive, but she could imagine the fire burning in the blue eyes.

Stedman gestured with his hands like an orchestra leader in the closing bars of a symphony and the chanting ceased.

Claudia closed the edge of the curtain. “They’re getting ready,” she whispered. Jovanic nodded. The Beretta looked big and dangerous in his hand. As scared as she was, his cool confidence transmitted itself to her and helped her feel calmer.

Stedman’s powerful voice came through the curtain. He was talking about the prophet Abraham and his willing obedience to his God’s order to sacrifice his beloved son, Isaac.

“Our Lord God, you stopped your prophet at the last moment because Abraham’s sacrifice was a symbol of your own sacrifice—your own lamb’s blood. We recall so well, oh Lord, your Revelation, where you tell us of those who have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the lamb. We have seen your light grow brighter. We have seen you provide a
new
lamb, and tonight we present to you the blood of that lamb so that your servants here on earth may be saved. Our brothers and sisters have gone on before us to prepare the way, and now we, the governing board of your chosen organization, prepare to join them.”

Putting her eye to the curtain again, Claudia saw Stedman lean forward and take something from the altar. Something that had been hidden by the bodies of the kneeling men. Her heart began racing on overdrive. In his hands was a leather sheath. The silver hilt of a dagger gleamed in the candlelight.

He raised the sheath above his head and the chanting began again.

Behind her, Claudia felt Jovanic tense and knew that he wanted to move. But they couldn’t risk going in without knowing where Kylie was.

The chanting continued for two or three minutes. Then Harold Stedman said, “Amen,” and the cave fell silent. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered the sheath and removed the knife. He laid the cold steel across his hands and displayed it to his companions.

The four kneeling men rose and shrugged off their hoods. Claudia recognized them from the times she had seen them at the head table in the dining hall. She spared a fleeting prayer for the TBL followers who had given their lives tonight simply because these men had instructed them to. She hoped the fentanyl gas had been quick and painless.

The elders turned to their left and moved single file past the altar, then disappeared from her line of sight. She darted a look back at Jovanic—
What do we do?
He held up his hand:
Wait.

The next time she looked around the curtain, Erin Powers was entering the cave from the far side, her unconscious child in her arms. Kylie was dressed in white lace decorated with colored ribbons and rosettes, satin slippers on her feet. Her fine baby hair was curled in ringlets and tied with bows.

Everything Claudia had been told about Kylie flashed back and she realized that the stories were not exaggerated. Even in sleep this was an extraordinarily beautiful child. A miniature angel. How could Erin do this?

They were at a distance of some twenty feet, but she knew from Erin’s glazed look that she was under the influence of something. Drugged and hypnotized like her sister, Claudia guessed. How else would Stedman get her to comply with what he was asking her to do?

Followed by the four elders, Erin laid her child on the altar. Kylie shuddered as her skin came into contact with cold stone, but mercifully, she remained inert.

This is it.
Claudia readied herself. It was all she could do to keep from rushing into the cave.

Jovanic touched her arm.
Now.
She stepped aside and he pulled open the curtain.

His voice echoed loudly in the chamber. “Drop the knife. Harold Stedman, you’re under arrest.” He had the Beretta pointed at Stedman’s heart.

Harold Stedman flicked a disinterested glance at him and continued to raise the knife above his head. He began to intone:
“Benedicámus Patrem et Filium cum Sancto Spíritu.”

Erin stood at the end of the altar, frozen in place, staring straight ahead.

The four members of the governing board had frozen, too. They stared at Jovanic, horror mirrored in each of their faces.

“Throw it on the ground, Stedman,” Jovanic ordered again. “Now!”

Claudia edged along the wall, preparing to grab Kylie and run. Her eyes were glued to Stedman’s hands, still above his head, the knife poised in his fist.

She was nearly parallel to the altar now. How long would he be able to hold the knife aloft?

Then everything got crazy. Several things happened at once:

A guttural cry pulled everyone’s attention.
Kelly!
Her eyes wild above her duct-taped mouth. Leaning against the wall at the place where Erin had appeared, she strained to push herself along toward the altar. Hampered by the tape binding her ankles, her hands behind her back.

Distracted for an instant, Stedman jerked his head in Kelly’s direction. Claudia dove at the altar, felt the icy stone surface against her midsection.

Stedman started to bring the knife down. Claudia grabbed for the child’s legs and pulled.

Erin screamed, “No! She’s the Chosen One!” She threw herself across Kylie, not to protect her from Stedman, but to stop Claudia from taking her.

The knife plunged.

Gunshots exploded like thunder.

 

 

 

Claudia could hear nothing but the echoes of the gunshot. The splash of hot blood on her skin made her recoil. Erin’s blood on her arms. Stedman’s blood on her face. She wanted to scrub it off, but she had to attend to Kylie first.

Erin. Oh God, Erin.
Lying on the ground, struggling for air, grabbing at the dagger that protruded from her neck.

Stedman, fallen behind the altar, a bullet in his heart.

Kelly had passed out.

Jovanic was shouting at the elders, ordering them to lie on the floor, hands behind them. He grabbed a fistful of plasticuffs from his pocket and began to secure them.

There was nothing Claudia could do now to help any of them. She forced herself to turn away from the scene in the cavern, seized the still-unconscious child from the altar, focused on one thought:
Get an ambulance.

Claudia ran, still nearly deaf from the gunshots, yelling for Rodney, not knowing how loud her voice was. She was in a nightmare, running forever. Kylie’s unconscious body heavy in her arms; the incline steeper, the hallway unending. She had reached the staircase when she saw on the landing, looking down at her, his frightened face. Saw his lips form his daughter’s name.

“What about Erin?” Rodney took his daughter gently and held her tight against his chest. Tears streamed down his cheeks. “Where’s my wife?”

Claudia was still trying to shake the ringing in her ears. “I’ve got to get to a phone, Rod. She got in the way of Stedman’s knife. Let me go and get her some help.”

He was still asking questions, trying to make sense of it all, but Claudia was still running. By the time the Victorian came into view, she had a stitch in her side and was short of breath. She had taken Lynn Ryder’s keys from the door to the bomb shelter. She stumbled up the steps to the back door, trying to decide which might fit Rita’s desk.

She hurried into the front office and found someone already there. Lynn Ryder was sitting at Rita’s desk. She swung around when she heard Claudia, a cordless phone in her hand.

“I know where Rita keeps her keys,” she said in a monotone, answering Claudia’s unasked question. “I’ve already called my people. They’re on their way over.”

“Call 911; we need an ambulance. I think Stedman’s dead and Erin needs help.”

Ryder shook her head and handed her the phone. She put her head down on the desk. As Claudia took the phone and dialed the emergency number, Lynn began to sob.

 

It was two days later before Claudia was allowed to see Kelly, who had been hospitalized for observation.

She entered Kelly’s room with a small bouquet of yellow roses and gave her friend a hug. Kelly couldn’t stop crying for a long time, but finally she managed to give Claudia her account of what had taken place on Friday night.

“On the way to Tabby’s house, after I talked to you, I got so worked up—I kept thinking how Erin had betrayed us. I was furious and, you know how I am—when I get mad, I drink. I felt like I had to fortify myself before I confronted her. But as usual, one drink turned into two; and by the time I got back on the road, it made sense to just go straight on to the Ark. I was sitting outside in the car half asleep when Erin and that ginormous Johnson dude got there.”

“When we got there your car was blocking the gate,” Claudia said.

“Someone had left the gate open and the guard was gone, so after Erin and the big dude drove through, I parked at the gate so they couldn’t get out. The only weapon I could think of was the tire iron in the trunk, so I got it out. I followed Erin into the Victorian. Lynn Ryder was there, rounding people up, sending them over to the church.”

“Is that when you hit her?”

Kelly’s lips twisted. “I didn’t mean to hit her. It was a mess. I was yelling at Erin, and Kylie was crying. Then Lynn Ryder showed up. Seeing her pissed me off all over again about being drugged and all that. She’s the last person I remembered talking to, so I thought she probably had something to do with it. I was asking her about it . . .”

“
Asking
her?”

“Okay, fine, I was accusing her. Then the big dude stepped in and got all threatening. He reached out and tried to grab me, so I swung the tire iron. He ducked out of the way and Lynn Ryder was standing there, so . . .”

“I get it.”

Claudia had spent some time thinking about Ryder and wondering whether she would be held liable for any of the events at the Ark compound. There weren’t many members left to share blame. It seemed ironic that she had been recruited by the FBI and blackmailed into being placed inside the cult as an operative, but something in their teachings had struck a chord. She had been so thoroughly taken in by Harold Stedman’s charisma and his promises, she became a true believer.

Stedman had been so convincing.

 

 

 

Claudia and Jovanic were spooning in her bed, safe together, and for now that was all she asked for.

“The coroner’s report came in on Harold Stedman,” Jovanic said. “Turns out he had a brain tumor.”

“A brain tumor?
You mean, that’s why—”

“The likely cause of visual and auditory hallucinations.”

“That explains his twisted thinking,” Claudia said, remembering the odd handwriting he had showed her. “And his channeling automatic handwriting. If that had been authentic, at least some of the words would have been legible.” The strange body heat she’d noticed must have been a result of his illness, too. Despite everything she couldn’t help feeling sorry for the man and wondered whether he had somehow managed to meet up with his followers “over there.”