These Sheltering Walls: A Cane River Romance (39 page)

            “Here,”
she said, holding out her hand.

            “Nuh-uh.
I’m not that stupid.” He grinned. “Tell me how to get to the number.”

            Henry’s
heart sank. She carefully walked him through the pages unil he found Kimberly’s
number.

            “Ok,
this is how it’s gonna work. I talk first. Then I hold it up to you. You don’t
say nothin’ that I don’t tell you to say.” He reached out and for a moment
Henry was confused about why he wasn’t holding the phone. The second before his
open palm connected with her face, she tried to jerk her head away, but it was
too late. The blow made her ears rings and she tasted blood in her mouth. “Got
it?”

            She
nodded, tears flooding her eyes. She’d never been hit before, not by anyone.
The humiliation she felt was worse than the pain.

            The
man dialed the number and waited for Kimberly to pick up. His gaze never left
Henry’s face and she realized that if Kimberly didn’t answer, her life was
probably over. But then she saw his eyes widen and he said, “Kimberly Gray? I
got your niece. You’re gonna give me what I ask for, or she’s gonna go in the ground.”

            Henry
almost closed her eyes at the faint sound on the other end. It was high and
filled with fear. She couldn’t make out the words but the man didn’t wait to
let her finish.  He barked his demands into the phone and then held it out to
Henry.

            “Kimberly?
It’s me, Lorelei.”

            “What’s
happening? Who is that? Why―?”

            He
took the phone away. “Tomorrow near the under pass at noon. You tell anybody
and she’s dead.” He closed it and smiled. “Well, we’ll see how close you two
really are.”

            A
few months ago, Kimberly might not have answered. She certainly wouldn’t have
believed what she’d just heard. Their relationships existed only on the
surface, clouded by half-truths and hurt feelings. Now Henry wondered if she
would ever really know her after having wasted so many years angrily avoiding
her.

            “Let’s
get out of here, Rick.” The younger man headed for the door, the gun tight in
his fist.

            “Shut
your mouth,” he bellowed, swinging wildly in his direction. “Now she knows my
name.”

            Henry
wondered if they would get in a fight and there could be a chance for her to
escape somehow, but the younger man simply cowered against the door.

            “Sorry,
man. I wasn’t thinkin’.”

            “Now
we gotta kill her,” he said and turned toward Henry.

            “You
kill me and she won’t bring the money.” Her heart was pounding so hard in her
chest that she could hardly hear her own voice. “And your name doesn’t mean
anything. I could have described you well enough.”

            He
paused a few inches away and she could see him debating the problem in his head.
“I guess you’re right. But I ain’t staying in here all night. We’ll lock you
in.” He held up the phone. “Taking this along, though.” He laughed and threw
her a wink.

            Henry
watched them walked through the door, shutting off the light on the way. For a
long time after they left, she didn’t move. She listened to the faint sound of
cars driving by and wondered where she was. There wasn’t anyone home or they
would have gagged her. She sat there in the darkness, trembling and immobilized
with fear.

            The
basement had looked just like the one at the Finnemore house, with the small,
high windows. It was completely empty, without even a box to stand on. Henry
would never be able to reach a window, even if it was wide enough to crawl
through. She stood up, feeling her way toward the door. The bigger man hadn’t
returned her shoe and the basement floor was cold under her bare foot. After a
minute or two, she found the knob and turned it. It was locked, of course.

            She
leaned against it, the smooth oak cool against her skin. She’d read once that
survivors never gave up hope, that as soon as a victim resigned themselves to
death, they stopped fighting. As much as she wanted to believe that Kimberly
was going to bring hundreds of thousands in cash on a plane, deliver it to
these criminals, and then demand to be told where Henry was hidden, she knew it
was very unlikely.

            She
shuffled to where she thought her purse was, swinging her hands in low arcs
until she connected with the bag. A few seconds later, she felt her keys. The
walls were stone but a hundred years in the humidity had made them soft and
crumbly. The paint was peeling and bubbled with water damage. Henry made her
way to a wall and started to carve letters into the paint and plaster, making
sure there wouldn’t be any misunderstanding.  She was going to make sure Gideon
was exonerated if it was the last thing she did.

“History, Stephen said, is a
nightmare from which I am trying to awake.”

― James Joyce

            “There,
I see her car,” Tom said as he pulled into the parking lot.

            Henry’s
red four door sat right where it should be. He really had lost it over nothing.
A wave of shame and frustration washed over him. “I’m sorry about getting you
out of bed.”

            “Don’t
apologize. I’m just glad everything is okay.” Tom let the car idle for a few
moments, the headlights cutting a bright path through the parking lot. “Loving
someone is an act of bravery, isn’t it?”

            His
question was posed so naturally that at first Gideon didn’t hear the deep truth
within it. “I thought I could just leave my demons at the door, but then I fell
so hard for her, so fast, that I didn’t realize I’d brought them with me.” 

            “Are
you going to fight for her?”

            Gideon
knew Tom wasn’t talking about Blue, or any other man. The real enemy was
Gideon’s past and the way it haunted him. He stared out the window at the empty
lot. “I’d walk through hell for her.”

            “And
you may have to.” Tom’s voice was gentle.

            He
imagined the years ahead of him filled with therapy and introspection, and he
felt a little sick. “I don’t know if it’s fair to ask her to wait while I
figure myself out.”

            Tom
was quiet for a moment. “Nothing wrong with honesty, ever. But give her the
chance to love you where you’re at. Nobody’s perfect.”

            “But
being able to handle a missed phone call is―” Gideon spotted something
red near the hedge at the end of the parking lot. Bright red, like the shoes
Henry wore that afternoon. He struggled to unbuckled his seat belt, panic
making him clumsy. He could never remember where the handle was in Tom’s car
and the extra second stretched impossibly long as he scrabbled at the door.

            “What
are you―?” Tom followed Gideon’s lead, jumping out of the car and rushing
across the lot.

            Gideon
stooped down and grabbed the red high heeled shoe. Somehow there had been the
smallest bit of hope that it really wasn’t real, that his fingers would grasp
at air and come back with nothing. That it would be another trick of his broken
mind.

            “Don’t
panic. It’s not certain―”

            “It’s
Henry’s. She was wearing them today. I saw her in the bookstore.” Gideon turned
in a circle, scanning the lot. He’d known something was wrong.

            Tom
was already dialing his phone. “Alice? I’m so sorry to wake you. Can you check
on Henry for me?” He didn’t look at Gideon while he talked. “It may be nothing.
She just missed a phone call and… okay. Thanks. I’ll wait.”

            Gideon
bent down and looked at the gravel. Wide scuff marks led to a spot in the hedge
where branches were broken back. Fresh leaves littered the ground underneath.
She’d put up a fight. She’d known.

            “Are
you sure? Can you get the key? I just don’t want to raise the alarm if she’s
asleep and not hearing us.” Tom was still facing away but Gideon could hear the
quiet fear in his voice. “Sure, I can hold again.”

            He
squeezed through the spot in the hedge, a branch catching him painfully at the
sensitive skin near his throat. The alley was pitch dark. He listened hard, but
the only sound was a car turning the corner. Gideon looked one direction, then
the other, his pulse pounding hard in his ears. He couldn’t find her alone. He
didn’t even know how long it had been since she’d been taken. Forcing his mind
away from the rest of the thought, Gideon went back through the hedge.

            Tom
was looking at his phone. “She’s not there. Alice went inside and checked.” His
voice was dull and flat. He seemed to be in shock. Without saying more, he
poked out a number and put the phone to his ear. “I need to report a possible
kidnapping.”

            Gideon
stared up at the sky, the rest of Tom’s conversation fading into the
background. There was no reason for anyone to hurt Henry unless they knew she
was connected to Gideon.  And if they were the men he thought they were, Henry
didn’t have a chance.

                                                              
***

            After
what seemed like hours of scratching into the wall, Henry traced the letters
back with one finger. The deep indentations spelled out everything she’d heard
and everything she could remember about her attackers. She’d chosen the
farthest corner of the basement and hopefully when they came back, they
wouldn’t see what she’d done. Of course, at the same time she could only pray
that someone else would read it after… Henry shook away the thought.

            In
college, she’d heard a motivational speaker talk about his near death
experience and the end of the story was filled with clarity and renewed sense
of purpose. Henry settled down against the wall and waited for her personal
revelation. It was down to the last hours of her life. It was very unlikely
she’d survive. But nothing came.

            She
looked back on her twenty eight years and didn’t see anything important. No
friends except Patsy. No real accomplishments. She thought of Vonda and Joe,
and hoped they would find something really special in the slave quarters. Clark
would take it hard. He seemed like he was that type. Bix and Ruby, too. Henry
shivered, thinking of Alice and how she would feel knowing that Henry had been
kidnapped right below her window. She hoped she didn’t feel any guilt.

            The
darkness felt suffocating and she leaned her head back against the wall. She
had always thought she’d live a long life, like her grandparents. At least as
long as Lisette and Kimberly. But this was all she was going to get, and for
the first time, she realized she’d spent a lot of time being angry. Sure, her
life hadn’t been perfect. Lisette hadn’t been the most affectionate, but she’d always
had enough.

            Henry
felt tears prick her eyes. She’d spent so many years wanting everything to be
different, when it was just the way it was. All of that energy, wasted.

            She’d
only started to live, really. Meeting Gideon had changed her life in a way
she’d hadn’t known was possible. She wiped her face, knowing she was probably
spreading dirt all over her cheeks. If only they’d had more time. Those few
months together felt like years, he’d given her so much, taught her so many
things.

            She
was making sad little choking sounds now as she cried but she didn’t care.
She’d been so worried about getting hurt that she’d been in a sort of dance,
wanting to get close but jumping away. And Gideon had simply waited for her.
He’d shared his heart, his secrets, his stories, his work. He’d cared about her
fears, fixing the door when she was sure she’d get trapped inside, even showing
her―

            Henry
bolted upright and scrambled to her feet. The keys were still in her hand. She
made her way to the door, heart pounding in her chest. Sweeping her hands along
the frame, she prayed out loud, hoping against hope, until she hit the large
brass hinges. Her hands shook as she began to force a key under one of the
pins, wiggling it until there was a gap, then shoving upward until she could
grasp it with one hand. Her arms ached as she worked. Pain flashed through her
hand as she tore a thumbnail and warm blood trickled down her arm. She blinked
back tears and kept working.

            Gideon
had joked about her special skill set. But he had one, too, and what he’d
taught her just might save her life.

                                                                        ***

            The
officer fixed Gideon with a stare as Tom explained why they had called for
help. Gideon tried his best to look docile. He was no threat. He simply needed
them to find Henry.

            “What
happened to your hands?” The officer hadn’t shut off his lights and the strobe
effect was making Gideon feel sick and off-kilter.

            Alice
stood there, arms wrapped around her waist, face pale with fear. She glanced at
Gideon’s hands for the first time.

            “I
hurt them. At home.”

            “And
that scratch on your neck?” He pointed with his pen and Gideon reached up,
feeling a long, bloody mark.

            “I
went through the bushes, trying to see if I could hear her. Or find her.”
Glancing down, he saw several leaves stuck to his shirt and he brushed them
off.

            “Officer,
our friend Henry is in danger.” Tom stepped between them, trying to recapture
the man’s attention.

            “How
did you know?” He didn’t take his gaze off Gideon.

            “She
was supposed to call when she got off work. She didn’t. I got worried so I
called Tom.”

            “They
called me to check her apartment. She’s not there, either,” Alice said but the
man didn’t even look in her direction.

            “So,
you called your friend?” He turned to Tom. “He called you to say his girlfriend
didn’t call? And then you went to his house and brought him here?” He turned
back to Gideon. “You don’t drive?”

            Another
police vehicle pulled into the lot, lights flashing. Gideon felt cold sweat
drip down the back of his neck. A week ago, he’d been resigned to another jail
term. Now he would do anything in his power to keep from being the focus of
their investigation.

            “Please,
you have to believe me. She’s here, somewhere.”

            “Stay
where you are,” he responded. He turned to talk to the new arrivals and Gideon
heard Tom’s voice as if from a distance.

            “Don’t
worry. We’ll find her.”

            Gideon
shook his head. He’d brought all of this into Henry’s life. She didn’t deserve
to suffer any of this, but now she was because Gideon had been selfish. He
should have protected her.

            “Mr.
Becket, if you could step over here.” Another officer had arrived and he was
motioning Gideon toward one of the police cars.

            “You
don’t need to question him,” Alice protested. “He didn’t do anything.”

            “Sir,
you don’t understand. Henry Byrne has been kidnapped. Or something has happened
to her.” Gideon heard the panic in his voice and fought to stay calm. His hands
were shaking and he clenched his fists, feeling the ache of the scrapes on his
knuckles.

            Tom
put a hand on the officer’s shoulder. “Listen, I know you want to cover all the
bases. But I was with him―”

            “Please
step back.” His eyes had narrowed and he put his hand somewhere at his belt.

            “I’ll
show you where they pulled her through the hedge.” Gideon started toward the
end of the lot.

            “Stay
where you are,” his said, voice raised now. The other two walked forward, the
same offensive stance mirrored in their movements.

            “Y’all
aren’t hearing him,” Tom yelled and pointed toward the hedge. “We found one of
her shoes. Right there. We called you for―”

            “Just
be calm. We’re trying to get all the information.”

            “She
might be in real trouble. You have to listen to us.” Alice sounded like she
might cry.

            A
radio crackled and one officer turned to speak into it. Gideon knew what came
next. They would advance as a team, take him in for questioning, nobody would
be looking for Henry at all. It was so bright in the parking lot that he didn’t
need a flashlight now. Maybe he didn’t need one in the alley, either. He moved
to the hedge, and felt someone grab his arms.

            There
was a lot of shouting and Gideon fought hard, but there were too many of them
and after several minutes he landed face down in the dirt, hard. Someone kneed
him between the shoulder blades and jerked one arm back. Gravel pierced his
cheek and the cold metal of a pair of cuffs felt like an electric shock against
his wrist.

            “Stop
struggling,” someone yelled in his ear and Gideon tried to shake his head. He
wasn’t struggling. Or maybe he was. He couldn’t tell. Everything was noise and
sound and Henry was in trouble. They weren’t going to help her.

            His
other arm jerked backward and the rest of the cuffs were locked in place.
Someone was still yelling and he wasn’t sure but it sounded like Tom. He
inhaled dirt and started to cough. At the edge of the lot he could see a crowd
gathering, their faces changing color from red to blue in the patrol car lights.
He wished there was someone, anyone, who would listen to him. Henry needed him.
His Henry. The only woman he’d ever―

            And
there she was, like a dream. Or a nightmare. She came back through the hedge
the same way she must have been dragged into it. Her hair was full of tangles
and dirt smears marked her face, as if she’d been crying and wiped her cheeks
with dirty hands. Her clothes were ruined and she wasn’t wearing shoes. One arm
looked covered in blood. Gideon had never been so happy to see anyone in his
life.