by Deb Stover
The warden's words coincided with Sofie's fractured memories. Her stomach lurched as she remembered the terror in Luke's eyes. "I remember," she whispered. "My God, I remember."
"This prison was high tech all the way." Graham looked around and sighed. "You and your friends ruined it all."
"What friends?" She drew a deep breath, wishing she could use her hands to push her hair out of her eyes. "You keep blaming me for this, but I'm–"
"Responsible for this injustice." The warden's voice fell to a whisper. "Terrorist."
"I don't understand." Tears burned her eyes again. "I just don't understand."
"Justice is all that matters." He opened the door, looking back over his shoulder once more. "You don't need to understand anything but that."
He reached behind him and grabbed the lantern, then left her in total darkness.
She bowed her head. "Please, don't let Luke come after me."
Less than half-a-mile from the execution chamber, Rosie went on strike. Luke begged, pleaded, coaxed, and he even smacked her on the rump, but the horse refused to budge.
She was old and he'd pushed her too far, too fast, too hard. Leaving her to forage, and hoping she’d survive until he could return, he took the gun and what supplies he could carry, and continued up the mountain on foot.
To Sofie. She had to be all right. Had to...
"Well, I'll be gol-durned," a familiar voice called from just ahead.
Luke looked up and saw the beautiful, gnarled face of Zeke Judson. The hillbilly grinned and started toward Luke.
"I didn't figger on seein' you in these parts again, Padre."
Luke didn't have time to explain everything now, so he cut to the critical stuff. Sofie. "Zeke, am I glad to see you."
"Somethin's wrong." Zeke's expression grew solemn. "Where's Miss Dr. Sofie?"
"She's been kidnapped." That was true. "Remember Smith?"
"The burned fella?"
"Right." Luke drew a deep breath, then plunged ahead. "He followed us to Denver and kidnapped Sofie. Said he was taking her back to where we were in that explosion."
"When her head got bunged up."
"Yeah."
"Why?" Zeke scratched his head.
Luke stared into Zeke's rheumy eyes. "Because he wants to kill me. He's using her to lure me there."
"What in tarnation...?" Zeke gave a brief nod. "Show me where." He held his shotgun in both hands.
Luke pointed up the mountain. "At the top." He looked around. "Are you alone?"
"Me 'n Ab was huntin', an' I been tryin' to talk him outta gittin' hitched." Zeke aimed his thumb over his shoulder. "I'll fetch him."
"All right, but I can't wait. I'll meet you in the cave at the top of this mountain." Luke grabbed Zeke's arm. "Thank you."
Zeke gave a quick nod, then jogged away to find Ab.
Luke had help now. With renewed determination, he continued up the mountain. Realizing Graham would be waiting for him, he moved into the trees, constantly watching the granite wall that shielded the execution chamber.
And the chair.
He tried not to remember the searing jolts of electricity plundering through his body. He tried not to remember the terror of being restrained in that chair, knowing he was about to die.
He tried...but failed.
Finally, the granite wall where he and Sofie had emerged that morning appeared. Still unaccustomed to the weight of a gun in his hand, Luke tightened his grip. The last time he'd held a gun was the night his life had been destroyed.
If necessary, he would use this gun. And if he had to die to save Sofie, so be it.
Graham wanted justice. Luke Nolan would give the bastard justice.
He ducked behind a tree near the opening and looked back down the mountain. No sign of Zeke and Ab yet. Something white floated by. Snow. The flakes multiplied quickly, and the wind whipped them into a frenzy.
Looking down the mountain again, Luke realized the sudden storm would delay Zeke and Ab, and possibly prevent them from finding the mountain at all. Damn. Then Luke glanced toward the opening again, realizing the snow would also make him more difficult to see.
He slid the saddlebags from his shoulder and left them beside a tree, then checked to make sure the gun was loaded. It was.
Walking boldly through the blinding snow, Luke faced his two greatest fears.
The electric chair and losing Sofie.
The former was acceptable, but only if it prevented the latter.
He pressed his back against the icy granite, inching his way along it toward the opening. Memories of the last time he'd been here threatened to interfere. He'd never seen a more beautiful dawn than that one, but tomorrow's would be even more beautiful.
With Sofie.
He squeezed through the opening and held his breath. The stench of decomposing bodies hit him like a missile. His execution chamber had become a time-traveling tomb.
Swallowing his nausea, he flattened himself against the inner wall. The chamber was almost completely dark and he waited for his heart to slow to a reasonable pace.
Lantern light suddenly appeared across the wide chamber, drawing Luke's gaze.
Sofie.
Tied to a chair with a gag over her mouth, she sat there staring at him. She shook her head violently, her eyes wide with fear.
Where was–
Something heavy slammed into Luke's skull. He struggled to remain standing, to hold on to the gun, but the floor rushed toward him.
Strong arms grabbed him from behind and the gun fell with a loud clatter. Luke blinked, trying to focus and reach for it, but a booted foot shot out from behind him and kicked the gun across the cement floor.
"Justice."
That grating voice jerked Luke back from the dark, welcoming void that called to him. He couldn't pass out now.
"Sofie," he whispered.
The warden chuckled. "Your chair awaits."
Luke was so weak he could barely move. His head swam and his gut heaved.
"Look, Nolan, there it is." The warden dragged Luke toward the center of the chamber. "Open your eyes, you filthy murderer and look."
Luke heard Sofie trying to shout through her gag, and he looked at her again. She was so close, but he couldn't wrench himself free of the warden's death grip.
"No, look there." Graham grabbed Luke's head and aimed it toward something shiny.
The chair.
Firewood had been carefully arranged around the chair. So Graham had made a few modifications for Luke's execution. Steel didn't burn, but flesh did. His flesh.
Luke drew a deep breath and pulled one arm free. He twisted and fought, but Graham flung him to the ground and came down on him with his knee.
"Let her go." Luke would do anything to save the woman he loved. Anything.
"She's a terrorist."
That made no sense. Luke shook his head and looked up at the hooded monster. "Free Sofie...and I'll do it." Come on, Zeke.
Something heavy fell near the entrance. The ceiling was coming down. Luke looked up at the broken beams and crumbling rock.
Graham appeared to weigh his options, then moved his knee from Luke's chest. As he stood, he pulled a gun from his pocket. "In the chair."
"You'll free Sofie?"
"Get in the chair."
Luke had no options. Again. Graham had a gun and he held Sofie prisoner. Defeated, Luke turned to face the chair.
Sofie screamed through her gag, but he didn't permit himself to look at her now. The moment he touched the icy metal, Luke's body filled with the heat of electrocution all over again. He felt the pain as if the volts were raging through him at this very moment.
God help us.
Swallowing his fear as much as possible, he dropped into the chair and looked up at Sofie. She was frantically trying to get free.
"Don't...watch, Sofie," he said, still staring at her, even as Graham wrapped rope around the chair and Luke and tied it.
Once Luke's arms and torso
were secure, the warden tied Luke's ankles to the chair as well. Then the bastard walked away and released Sofie from the chair. She leapt up and hurried toward Luke, her hands still tied behind her back and her mouth gagged.
"Terrorist," Graham shouted from behind her, shoving her into Luke's lap.
"No!" Luke's roar echoed through the chamber, and another shower of stones and steel beams fell from the ceiling. "Let her go."
"Terrorist," Graham repeated as he tied Sofie to the chair with Luke. "Burn with the murderer."
Luke met Sofie's terrified gaze. She sat sideways in his lap, and her arms and shoulders were securely tied to the chair. The gag prevented her from talking.
He craned his neck to reach her mouth with his, using his teeth to pull the gag away. She gulped air into her lungs.
"Luke, I remember," she said breathlessly. "I remember why I was here that morning."
Graham walked around the chair, igniting the firewood in several places. Hurry, Zeke.
"I love you, Sofie," Luke whispered. "I'm so sorry."
"I'm not a doctor."
"Terrorist," Graham muttered.
"I came here to stop your execution and an activist group helped me get inside the prison. In here." A tear trickled down her face. "They said I looked like the doctor who was scheduled to attend the execution. They grabbed her and I took her place. I didn't know they planned to bomb the prison."
"Liar." Graham struck another match and dropped it to the outer circle of wood, obviously wanting to prolong his pleasure.
"Sadistic bastard."
"Luke, listen to me," Sofie pleaded. "I don't want to die without telling you the truth."
And, barring a miracle, they would die. "Go on." Smoke thickened and curled around them, spiraling toward the high ceiling of the chamber. "Tell me, Sofie."
"My brother..." She bit her lower lip. "He died the night before your execution. He was shot by the police after a robbery."
"I'm listening." Luke concentrated on her voice, on her face, and shut out the choking smoke and approaching death. They were bound so tightly, nothing could save them from the flames.
"Ricky, my brother–"
"Ricky?" Luke's head roared. "My God."
"Yes, as he was dying, he told me about the liquor store clerk," she said quickly. "And about you."
Luke gazed into her eyes. "Your brother?"
Sofie nodded. "He was a wild boy, always in trouble, and..." She coughed in the thickening smoke. "But before he died, he begged me to stop your ex...execution."
Luke wanted to hold her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her. "Thank you for telling me." His throat burned from the smoke and they both coughed. "I love you, Sofie, no matter what. None of this is your fault."
"I tried to stop them." Her voice dripped acid. "I was up all night, trying to reach congressmen, judges, lawyers, the governor." She coughed again. "I even called the White House."
"You did?" He rested his head against her chest, feeling her chin on top of his head. They couldn't hold each other while they died, but they were together. Still, he wished there were some way to free her from this nightmare. She didn't deserve this.
Neither of them did.
More sections of rock and steel tumbled from the ceiling. Luke tried to see through the smoke, spotting Graham near the entrance. The creep stood there staring.
Sofie lifted her head to look down at Luke's face. "Kiss me."
He met her lips, pouring all his love into it. If only he could set her free...
As the flames grew hotter, a commotion erupted near the entrance. Luke and Sofie both turned to watch Zeke and Ab rush in and struggle with Graham.
More of the ceiling came down, then a low buzz commenced in the chair. A familiar sensation. "My God."
Though he felt no pain, he recognized the unholy zing of the electric chair.
Another section of ceiling fell. "Cave-in," Zeke yelled. "We gotta save 'em."
"Can't, Zeke," Ab called over the falling debris. "God forgive us."
Luke saw Ab forcing Graham through the entrance. "You're gonna hang, Smith."
Zeke looked back over his shoulder and looked up. "I'm comin' for you, Padre," he called just as a huge section of ceiling and rock fell, blocking the entrance forever. Luke prayed Zeke had escaped before it was too late.
Then the flames grew and the impossible electrical current intensified. Luke lifted his face to his wife and met her lips again.
One last time.
Chapter 23
Denver, Colorado–Present Day.
Sofie Danzano pulled her Volkswagen into a parking place across the street from the brownstone with the bright orange awning. Her heart hammered into her ribs and her palms grew sweaty against the steering wheel.
With trembling fingers, she reached for the magazine article again. The caption under the photograph gave the street address. This was definitely the right place.
But was it the place?
She combed her fingers through her hair and used the rear view mirror to freshen her lipstick. She'd waited all her life for this day. Maybe she was nuts, but she had to know once and for all.
Climbing from the car, she slung the straps of her leather backpack over her shoulder and slammed the door. She stood there for several moments, still holding the magazine in her hand.
Memories of the dreams that had plagued her since puberty flooded her mind. Dreams she wasn't sure were dreams at all, where she'd stood on this street and had visited that building. She'd been raised in Pueblo, not Denver, but this place haunted her for a reason. She'd been here before. She knew it in her heart and soul.
Reincarnation? Maybe. All she knew was the street lawyer in the magazine article was Luke Nolan.
Her Luke. Her husband in another place. Another time.
"Welcome to the Twilight Zone." She almost never read magazines–what medical student had the time?–but being stranded for two hours in DIA while the airline found her luggage, she'd had nothing better to do.
Fate had led her to this particular issue of this particular magazine. She didn't doubt that for a minute.
She was scheduled to begin her residency here in Denver next month, but she had a few free weeks to investigate this mystery. Turning the page, she looked at the man's photo again. He had long, wavy hair pulled into a ponytail. Though the hair bore no resemblance to the man in her dreams, the face was his.
And the name.
He was an attorney–a street lawyer. The article told of his altruism and endless hours of community service. Yes, this sounded like something her Luke would have done, given the chance.
Filled with determination, she stuffed the magazine into her backpack and removed her sunglasses, dropping them into her pocket. She wanted to see his expression when he saw her for the first time. Again.
This was nuts. She was nuts. But she had to know. She'd never been able to have a serious relationship, because she felt connected–married?–to Luke Nolan. A man she'd never actually met.
Or had she?
The door squeaked and a bell jingled as she stepped inside. For a moment, she was mentally transported back to 1891, when she'd last visited this place. But it looked different now. A glass case filled with shoe paraphernalia and a modern cash register occupied one side of the front room. The dressing room where she'd been kidnapped by that maniac had a door on it instead of a curtain.
But it was still the same place.
The bricks were gone from the back wall, too. Did that mean–
"Ah, it's a beautiful morning." An elderly gentleman walked into the room, smiling. "May I help you?"
"Yes, I hope so." She swallowed hard. Was this Luke's grandfather, alive and healthy? She put out her hand. "My name is Sofie Dan–"
"Sofie?" The man's eyes widened. "Sofie? Tell me, how do you spell it?"
Smiling, she answered. Once upon a time, Luke had asked her that same question.
"Amazing." His smile was wide and welcoming. "My wife
and I, we believe in miracles."
A shiver skittered down her spine. "Miracles?"
"Yes, miracles." His expression became intense as he stared at her. "I'm Albert Nolan."
"I...I guessed. I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Nolan." Sofie opened her backpack and showed him the article. "I'm looking for–"
"My grandson, of course." He winked. "His office is through the door in the back room and up the stairs."
It's almost as if he expected me. Sofie stared at Mr. Nolan for several moments. "Do you...know why I'm here?"
"Go talk to Luke, darlin'." He chuckled quietly. "Sure took your time about getting here. Wait 'til I tell his grandmother. She'll be delighted."
Stunned, Sofie tucked the magazine under her arm and went into the back of the store. She opened the door that led to a tall, narrow staircase and climbed to the second floor.
An open window at the top of the stairs provided a gentle breeze, and she paused for a moment to cool off and gather her wits. She half-expected to awaken and learn she'd fallen into the SciFy Channel.
She proceeded down the narrow hallway. The door at the end stood open, and the breeze from behind her flowed past her and into the room ahead.
He had his back to her. The dark, wavy ponytail made her doubt again that this could be the same short-haired man she'd fallen in love with and married in 1891.
She almost changed her mind as she stood frozen there in the doorway. A glass display case caught her eye and she took a few steps over to glance into it. Procrastinating.
But her heart almost stopped as she focused on the case's contents. There in the case were the Bible and crucifix she remembered. Before she could look at the other objects, she heard the chair squeak behind her.
As she turned to face him, her head swam and her heart made an illegal U-turn in her chest. His eyes widened and he removed his small, wire-rimmed glasses as he rose slowly from his chair. "Sofie," he whispered, dropping the glasses onto his desk. "Sofie."
Her eyes stung with tears as he walked around the desk and stood in front of her. This was her Luke. All her doubts fled as she gazed into his beautiful gray eyes. This man had been her husband. She knew it in her heart and in her soul.
