Simmer All Night (38 page)

Chrissy's heart sank. Up until now she had found comfort in the fact he didn't appear anxious to harm them. But if he'd killed to gain this life he now led, she had to believe he'd kill again to protect it. "What are you going to do to us?"

"Well, that is a problem, isn't it?" Sophie started crying when he tied a gag around her mouth. Michael thrashed, to no avail. Bennet approached Chrissy with one last length of cloth and said, "Tell you what I'll do. I'll sleep on it, and we'll see if in the morning I have thought of a way I can risk letting you live."

She shuddered when, after tying her gag, he touched her arm. But rather than take further liberties, he settled for removing one of the black ribbons adorning her sleeve. Returning to the children, he removed one of Sophie's shoes and tore the cuff from Michael's sleeve. "Y'all go on to sleep now. Maybe luck will be with you." He extinguished the lamps adding light to the room and added, "Things could look brighter in the morning."

Then he left, shutting the door behind them, sealing Chrissy, Michael and Sophie in the pitch black darkness of the underground crypt.

* * *

The searchers found the overturned boat at mid-morning.

Lana, having grown increasingly distraught throughout the long night, collapsed into her fiancé's arms when a man approached carrying a waterlogged shoe.

"Found it along the far bank, Lord Bennet," he said, pointing across the narrow lake.

Cole recognized it as Sophie's, and fear tore like talons at his gut.

Jake Delaney cleared his throat. "Any sign of my sister?"

"Maybe. Found a couple of rags." The man reached into a bag, then pulled out a damp and muddy scrap of flannel and a length of black ribbon. "Could she have been wearing this?"

Elizabeth Delaney gasped and clutched her son's arm. Cole pictured Chrissy as he last saw her wearing her Chili Queen outfit complete with black ribbons tied around the sleeves of her white blouse.

Cole's heart stopped. Welby said grimly, "That looks like the boy's pajamas."

Seconds or maybe hours ticked by as Cole stood frozen, staring at the ruined ribbon. Fear choked his throat while nausea churned in his stomach.

"They drowned?" cried Thornbury.

"No." Cole abruptly rejected the idea. "I don't believe it," he said, his jaw set like granite. He wouldn't believe it. He shoved the broken oarlock with the toe of his boot and declared, "Chrissy and those children did not drown. Why would they take a boat out after dark anyway? Chrissy wouldn't do that. She's smarter than that."

"But the children are something else," Welby replied, his grim gaze scanning the bank. "I could easily picture Michael conjuring up the idea to go fishing. If he and Sophie somehow fell into trouble, Chrissy might have put herself in jeopardy attempting to save them."

"She was upset when she saw us," Jake agreed, dragging a hand along his jaw. Despair etched his face. "She always did like walking by the water to do her thinking, and the way she took off when Mother and I arrived... well... she likely had some thinking she wanted to do."

"No." Cole shook his head, his hands making fists at his sides. His mouth was so dry he had to work up a spit to speak. "They did not drown. We will keep looking. They are here somewhere, alive and healthy, and we will find them."

One of the men who discovered the overturned row-boat agreed. "You find 'em one way or another. If they're in this lake, their bodies won't stay down forever."

Cole narrowed his eyes as another man protested, "Not necessarily. The gates on the dam have been open. The bodies are likely well on down the river by now. We can call off this search."

When Lana let out a moan of anguish, then fainted dead away, Jake had to restrain Cole from letting a fist fly at the loudmouth's face. He settled for whirling on Bennet. "You said you're magistrate here, correct?"

"I am."

"You will order these people to continue looking for Miss Delaney and the children until they have been found."

"But Mr. Morgan. The girl's shoe... the ribbon."

"Do it!" Thornbury demanded, shifting to stand by Cole.

Throughout the day and late into the evening search parties combed the grounds of Harpur Priory, including every nook and cranny of the manor house. They discovered nothing more than wrinkled coverings on the state bed. "This might be a clue," Lana said upon learning of the discovery. "They've always liked to jump on beds."

Cole climbed up on the bed himself to look at anything the Kleberg children might have seen. Through the window he spied the lake in the distance and the spot where the capsized boat had been discovered.

Dread socked him in the stomach like a fist and he jerked his gaze away from the distressing sight.
No,
there must be something more. Where are you, sweetheart? Give me a clue, here.

At dark Bennet suspended the search for the day and at Cole's insistence asked volunteers to meet back at the manor house the following morning to begin again. Most of the Anglo-Texan Society members, clearly believing Christina and the children had met their fate in the lake, expressed their intentions to depart Harpur Priory as planned the next day. Cole would be glad to see them leave. He needed all the naysayers gone.
So help me, I'll deck the next person who dares to say they're dead.

Cole made a third sweep through the house before acknowledging his own need for rest and retreating to his room. Forty hours without sleep and half of those spent in ceaseless worry had left his eyes gritty, his body weary. But when he fell onto his bed, slumber eluded him.

His mind was plagued by waking nightmares of "what ifs" and "should haves."

All day long he'd tried not to let the fear clawing at his gut gain control. Fear could cripple a man's thinking, and he'd be useless to her then. Chrissy needed him. He felt it. He felt her, alive and breathing and needing his help.

Please, God. Let her be safe. Let them all be safe.

Impatient to resume the search, Cole lay on the bed wishing the night away until his body's need for rest overpowered the demons in his mind and he fell into a light, restless sleep.

* * *

Fueled by both fear and fury, Chrissy worked all night attempting to free her ropes. She'd counted to ten after Bennet/Wilcox shut the door, then rolled to her feet and hopped toward the bed and the children. Halfway there, she'd lost her balance and fallen, but eventually, she managed to crawl in next to the crying children and offer what little comfort she could. When they finally drifted into an exhausted sleep, she went to work.

Her first thought was to knock over the lamp in hopes of breaking it, so she could use a shard of glass to slice her bindings. But when she rolled into the bedside table sending the lamp teetering, then falling, it was her bad luck that it landed without breaking.

Shortly after that, Chrissy thought she heard signs of a search in the outer room, and she had screamed against the gag, to no avail. It had been time for a new plan. She'd sat in the dark, mentally taking inventory of everything she remembered seeing inside the cabin. She needed something with a sharp edge, but what? The furniture was all wooden with smooth edges. No help there. Nothing on the walls. Then she'd recalled the trunk.

It took her what felt like forever to maneuver it open and then to her dismay, she'd found only bedding inside. While she'd mentally cursed that bad luck, the lid fell, smashing her fingers. But as pain radiated up her arms, her spirits had soared. The metal latch had scratched her on the way down. She had found her tool.

The motion was awkward, and it took hours of dogged determination, but eventually, her muscles screaming and her wrists bleeding, the ropes fell free.

Chrissy wanted to shout for joy, but all she could manage was a satisfied groan.

Moments later, both the gag and the binding around her ankles had been dealt with. The first thing she did was try the door, but it wouldn't budge. Next she debated whether to wake the children in order to untie them or allow them to continue to sleep. Guessing their fear would affect them worse than their discomfort, she decided to let them sleep at least until she managed to light a lamp.

Finding matches was no easy task in the pitch dark of an unfamiliar room. While she searched, she planned how to effect their escape.

Finally, she found a box of matches on the mantel. Soon, a soft oh-so-welcome yellow light chased away at least a portion of the gloom. Setting the lamp beside the bed, she saw to the children's bindings. Michael awoke when she freed him. Sophie remained asleep while Chrissy rigged the trap she'd planned during the long night.

"We must listen hard so we're ready when he opens the door," she told Michael. "Surprise is our best weapon."

Thirst drove them to search the room for something, anything to drink but they found nothing. Michael did find a deck of cards, so once Sophie awoke, Chrissy distracted the children with games.

Time dragged on, exactly how long, Chrissy couldn't tell. She tried to remember how long a person could survive without water. Three days? Four? What about the children? Two days, perhaps?

Tension and worry escalated each time Sophie asked for a drink. If Bennet, rather, if Wilcox walked through the door at that moment, she could have taken his life with little regret.

She was reading softly to the children from the Bible when they heard the sound of scraping. "Now," she whispered, blowing out the lamp, then rushing to get into position. "Be ready."

Slowly, the door opened, a hand holding a lantern leading the way. Light shone upon the children pretending to sleep in the bed, the strips of cloth back in their mouths, their hands and ankles crossed as though still tied.

Holding the heavy cast iron Dutch oven as her club, Chrissy waited... waited... waited...

"Are you still breathing down—"
Whoosh.

"Run!" Chrissy cried as the pot connected with the villain's head and knocked him to the floor.

Michael and Sophie flew off the bed and hit the floor running, jumping over the groaning, cursing man and out of the hidden room. Chrissy followed on their heels, but darting out of the collection room in near pitch darkness, the children turned the wrong way.

"Where is it, Miss Chrissy? Where is it?" Michael ran along the wall, hitting it with his palms, searching for the opening that led to the staircase.

"Here, this way," she replied, guiding them to the left.

Finding the door, they pushed it open and dashed inside.

"Climb, fast as you can," Chrissy said, herding them ahead of her. But the way was dark and poor Sophie fell twice.

A roar of rage from below sent shivers up Chrissy's spine.

"Hurry!"

Chrissy scooped Sophie up into her arms and continued to climb. Her heart pounded. She struggled to breathe. Thirst was a vicious beast.

How much farther?
Were they above ground level yet? Surely so, but the stairwell was so dark, it must be nighttime.

Below her, closer now, came the sound of Wilcox's footsteps. She wanted to sob with desperation. Instead, she yelled, "Scream, Michael. Wake the household!"

Then a hand brushed her skirt. "No."

Faster. Faster. Another tug. Chrissy knew what she must do. She set Sophie onto her feet, saying, "Go... go... go..."

Then she turned to meet her killer.

* * *

Unable to sleep more than a few hours, Cole wandered Harpur Priory's halls and waited for dawn. Old ghosts haunted his mind, memories of Christina and the wrongs he had done her throughout the years.
I'll make it up to you, Lady Bug. I promise I will.

He refused to believe he wouldn't have the opportunity. He refused to believe the woman he loved was dead.

Intent upon his thoughts, upon first hearing the screams, he thought they were all in his mind. Even so, he started walking toward the sound.

"Help us! Mama!"

Everything inside of Cole froze. He turned his ear toward the noise.

"Mama... Mama... Mama..."

"Michael? Sophie?" he yelled, starting to run.

"Help!"

Then they were barreling toward one another down the long gilded hallway that paralleled the state rooms. The children were dirty and bedraggled, both shoeless, and more beautiful than all the contents of all the treasure houses in England. Yet even as the joy blossomed in his heart, his gaze swept past the little ones, searching for sight of Christina. Seeing only an empty doorway.

"Mr. Cole. Mr. Cole. Help us." Michael held his younger sister's hand, pulling her along. Then he added the words that made Cole's blood run cold. "He's got Miss Chrissy and I think he's gonna kill her."

They flew into Cole's arms, weeping and wailing, and it took him valuable seconds to calm them down enough to make sense of what they were saying. By the time they'd provided the pertinent facts, he heard Lana's cry from behind him.

Cole released the children, who immediately ran toward their mother. He called out to Welby. "It's Bennet. He has Chrissy down in the crypt. There's a staircase in the state bedchamber. Get her brother and some light and follow me down."

Then he was off, flying down the hallway and into the bedroom. The hidden door hung open like a black wound in the wall and he dashed inside. "Chrissy!" he yelled as he started down the staircase.

From far below him, he thought he heard her scream.
Sonofabitch, I'll kill you.
Cole flew down the staircase, descending into the darkness. "Chrissy!"

He heard a pop. A shot?
No!

Around and around he raced down the staircase wondering if he'd ever reach the bottom. Then finally, abruptly, the staircase ended and he found himself in what amounted to an underground graveyard without a source of light. "Chrissy?" he called again, then stopped and listened hard.

His voice echoed, then died away. Then silence. Cold, total silence. Dead silence.

* * *

Chrissy fought, twisting and hitting and biting, but her opponent was bigger than she, stronger than she. And he was furious.