Serenity Engulfed

by Craig A. Hart

  Shelby nodded. “I was thinking the same, that they may have moved her. In fact, I’d like to get moving, if it’s the same to you.”

  “I understand your hurry, but I’d like to take a look around, to make sure Angel isn’t here and in need of assistance.” Hammer began walking toward the door.

  Shelby coughed meaningfully.

  Hammer sighed for the second time, giving Shelby the distinct impression that she found him exasperating. “Fine,” she said. “You can come along.”

  “I was actually thinking maybe you could get these cuffs off.”

  “Oh, right,” Hammer said, backtracking. “Although I have to say I like you a lot better handcuffed.”

  Shelby wondered exactly what she meant by that, but decided this was not the right time to ask.

  On the main floor, there were clear signs of a struggle, but Angel was nowhere to be found. But there was no evidence of a killing being performed, and Shelby’s pulse slowed a little.

  “Looks like she’s been taken,” Hammer said. “At least that part of your story checks out.” She sighed. “You know, Shelby, I’ve heard a lot about you. A running theme in those stories has been your fierce independence and lack of respect for authority.” Shelby opened his mouth to speak, but the sheriff held up one hand to silence him. “You’ve done a lot of good for people around here, and I’d be a fool of an outsider to put a stop to it. But in return, I’m going to need you to recognize my authority. I won’t be able to properly do my job if you decide to run roughshod over the law whenever the law’s inconvenient. It sends a bad message. What’s more, you’ll eventually mess up, and I’ll get the blame for not keeping you under control.”

  “The woman is psychic, Shel,” Mack said. “You might as well hang up your spurs now, because she has your number as sure as I have hemorrhoids.”

  “I decline to discuss that further,” Shelby said, grimacing. “Look, Sheriff, if I apologize, can we get a move on?”

  “Fair enough. Sorry, I just wanted to get that off my chest. I have no idea what we’re going to run into tonight, and I wanted to be clear.”

  “We’re clear, Sheriff.”

  “Good. Now let’s go find your daughter.”

  19

  By the time Shelby stopped the Jeep on a back road, the sun was hanging low and sending shafts of lights between the trees. The woods seemed almost on fire, glowing burnt orange and dark green. Night sounds were beginning and Shelby took a moment after turning off the engine to sit and listen. It was something he tried to do before embarking on any job that might prove deadly. He had long realized he was not indestructible and as susceptible to injury and death as any of his opponents—he didn’t want to leave without being aware one last time of the surroundings he loved so much.

  A deep breath of pungent, woodland air later, and he climbed from the Jeep. Mack and Hammer followed, and they grabbed their gear from the back of the vehicle—Shelby holding the shotgun and Mack hefting the Maglite. Hammer had her sidearm ready for action.

  Shelby pointed into the trees. “It’s this way. We can come up on the side of the house with decent cover most of the way. I don’t think they’ll have posted guards, but you never know.”

  “You think they have that kind of manpower?” Hammer asked.

  “To be honest, I don’t know. I have no idea what they’d been up to since we last tangled. Mack and I took out most of their star players at that point. I suppose it’s possible Scott Ellis has been recruiting.”

  Mack spat in disgust. “These Ellises are the cockroaches of northern Michigan. I wouldn’t mind the opportunity to wipe them out for good.”

  “You won’t get much argument from me,” Shelby said. “Although there was something a little strange about Jim and his son when I was out there with you, Sheriff.”

  Another scoff from Mack. “Strange for an Ellis, you mean?”

  “Strange in the sense that I felt they were hiding something.”

  Hammer looked at Shelby. “How is that strange for an Ellis?”

  “First of all, Jim and his kid are from the U.P. and never seemed as hell-bent on destruction as their lower peninsula kin. Second, I got the feeling they were hiding something against their will. Like they were afraid to hide it but more afraid to tell anyone about it.”

  “And you think that something is Leslie?”

  “It’s worth checking out, right?”

  Hammer nodded. “That’s why we’re here.”

  The sun dropped out of sight, leaving only a faint glow on the horizon. The night sounds had faded but would soon return in full force. The only sounds now were the soft crunch crunch of footsteps as the three of them walked along, and the occasional curse as a branch swatted Mack in the face.

  “I don’t know how you avoid all these damn branches and brambles,” he said. “I feel like a horse-whipped pin cushion.”

  Shelby grinned. “It comes with experience. I don’t even think about it much anymore.”

  “Must be nice,” Hammer said. “I’m getting my fair share of it too.”

  “Damn it!” Another elastic branch slapped across Mack’s face. “Goddamn nature. May it all rot in hell.”

  Shelby grinned. “Cursing Mother Nature, no less. I thought you were a liberal.”

  “Don’t talk politics with me, Shelby Alexander. Just because I care about the environment doesn’t mean I want sticks and pinecones shoved up my ass.”

  “Who said I don’t care about the environment?”

  “Did I mention your name? Why do you have to make things all about you all the time?”

  Shelby grunted. “Shut up and try not to impale yourself.”

  “Good God,” Hammer said. “Are you two married?”

  They continued walking and soon the Ellis house came into view through the trees, its presence marked by several windows that glowed yellow.

  “Looks like someone’s home,” Mack whispered.

  Shelby nodded. “Notice anything else?”

  “My heart rate is about twice what my doctor would like, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Check the house’s foundation.”

  “The light is on in the basement,” Hammer whispered.

  “Correct. Mack and I have both been in that hellhole. Can you think of any reason why someone would be down there, unless they were up to no good?”

  “No, I cannot.”

  “Me neither. Let’s get a little closer.”

  They crept forward, bending over to maintain a low profile, and made for the back corner of the house. As they approached, Shelby heard a strange snuffling sound and then the unmistakable growl of a dog. He stopped dead in his tracks, straining to find the location of the animal. And then he saw two eyes glowing in the deep shadows along the side of the house. There was the rattle of a chain as the animal stood up, and the growl intensified.

  Mack groaned. “Damn it, we should have brought a nice steak with a pill inside.”

  “If I’d seen them when I was here earlier, I would have. I’ll see if I can coax it closer. Don’t move.”

  “As if I could if I wanted to,” Mack said. “And why the hell do you want it closer?”

  Shelby slowly withdrew a knife from his boot. “So I can shut it up before it lets everyone in the county know where we are.”

  The growling had continued throughout the whispered exchange, and as Shelby knelt and extended his hand outward, the chain rattled. He could still see only the eyes of the dog but could tell it was moving closer. The eyes squinted and then momentarily disappeared as the dog blinked. Then they were back, boring into Shelby like twin lasers.

  Shelby held his hand out farther, expecting a rush of movement in the dark and the feeling of two vise-like jaws clamping down. “Come here, boy. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Like fun,” Mack muttered through gritted teeth.

  “Quiet! Come on, boy. Just a little more.”

  Instead of abating, the dog’s growling had intensified and Shel
by realized suddenly the dog had been using the coaxing excuse to get near enough to attack.

  The eyes narrowed and the dog lunged forward, snarling and clicking its teeth.

  Shelby fell backward, kicking at the ground with his feet to push himself away from the animal’s advance. He brought the knife up and used his forearms to create a barrier for the soft tissue of his throat.

  And then the dog yelped and jerked as it came to the end of its chain. It continued to snarl and leapt against the restraint, barking and growling.

  “Well, I guess our cover’s blown,” Mack said, raising his pistol and aiming at the lurching form of the dog.

  “Grover! You stop that noise!”

  Both Shelby and Mack flattened themselves on the ground. Shelby knew that voice. It was Jimmy Ellis, the kid.

  At the first loud bark, the light in the basement had died. Now a door slammed inside the house and heavy footsteps moved from one end to the other. A screen door banged open.

  “Jimmy! What the hell is wrong with that fool dog?”

  “I’ve got him, Uncle Scott,” Jimmy called back. “It’s nothin. Just a possum, I’ll bet.”

  “Well, keep him in line. I don’t need a watch dog that gives false alarms.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The screen door banged again, and a few seconds later, a form appeared from around the back of the house.

  “Shut up, you mangy hound!” Jimmy yelled. “Quiet!”

  Shelby and Mack pressed into the ground, trying to disappear into the grass.

  Jimmy moved forward, his steps cautious. “Hello? Who’s there?”

  Shelby frowned. He’d known there was a chance they’d be discovered, but this was not the way he’d imagined it happening. Instead of sounding the alarm, Jimmy seemed to be attempting to remain unheard. He clearly knew someone was around the house—and lied about it to his uncle.

  Although not prone to trust an Ellis, Shelby knew it was either that or risk having their presence announced to everyone in the house. Slowly, he got to one knee, then stood all the way up.

  “Jimmy. It’s Mr. Alexander.”

  The boy stood, gripping Grover’s chain, one hand on the dog’s head to keep it quiet and calm. “I knew you’d come.”

  “You knew I’d come here?” Shelby couldn’t see well enough in the darkness, but he imagined Jimmy had nodded. “How’d you know?”

  “I’ve read about you. You don’t seem like the kind of man who’d let someone take off with your daughter.”

  Shelby’s heart thudded and quickened. “Leslie’s here, then.”

  “Yeah. In the basement. Chained up. I wanted to let you know earlier today, but—”

  “I understand, Jimmy. How many are in the house?”

  Jimmy paused, thinking. “There’s Uncle Scott and a couple of his friends. And then the boss.”

  “The boss?”

  “I don’t know his name. Everybody just calls him Boss.”

  “There’s four men inside, then.”

  “And Ma.”

  “Right.”

  “And the two women downstairs.”

  “Two women?”

  “Your daughter and another one. I don’t know her name, but she looked like she’d been beaten up real bad.”

  “Angel.”

  “I guess.”

  “But only four people who will put up a fight.”

  “I guess.”

  Shelby reminded himself this was not the time to lose his patience. “Okay, Jimmy. Thanks. I owe you one.”

  “And something else I should mention, Mr. Alexander, is that the boss—”

  Jimmy’s words cut off as if shorn with a cleaver. He dropped like rock to the ground and at the same time a pistol shot reverberated through the night.

  “Down!” Shelby dove back to the ground and brought his shotgun up. His finger tightened on the trigger, but he held his fire. He didn’t know where the shot had come from and firing would only give away his own position.

  He backed toward the woods, hoping to reach the cover of the trees before help arrived, but it was simply too far. A window shattered on the house and a long barrel poked through. It bellowed once, twice—a shotgun. At almost the same moment, the screen door burst open and a man charged into the open holding a semi-automatic rifle, firing from the hip like a stuntman in a movie. Shelby pointed and fired, the stock of the weapon coming back hard on his shoulder. The target yelped and skipped, but kept moving until he disappeared behind an outbuilding.

  Shelby glanced around for Mack and spotted him performing a flanking maneuver on the rifleman. Then Shelby rolled twice to the side as the shotgun in the window fired again, sending a slug where he’d lain only moments before. Rushing to his feet, he charged the house. The window shotgun went off with a deafening roar and then he was against the side of the house. He aimed his weapon at the sill of the broken window, fired, and was rewarded by a loud curse and the sound of something heavy falling to the floor.

  Probably the shotgun, Shelby thought. He knew he hadn’t killed the shooter, but he might have sent a fair number of painful splinters into the man’s face. In any case, the threat was temporarily neutralized and Shelby knew he’d be a fool to waste the opportunity. Scooting along the rough wooden siding of the house, he reached the front porch. As he ran toward the steps, a thought clicked in his mind. Shotgun…automatic rifle…but Jimmy had been shot with a pistol. Where was that shooter?

  Just as he realized his mistake a voice called out,

  “Don’t move, Alexander.”

  Once again, Shelby recognized the voice of an unseen speaker. Only this time, his reaction was markedly different. Somehow, his blood seemed to chill and boil at the same time. The voice belonged to Darkmore.

  20

  Shelby stood, rooted to the spot, the blood pounding in his ears so hard he could barely hear himself think. He gripped the shotgun and his eyes flickered back and forth, searching for Darkmore’s location.

  “Cat got your tongue, Alexander?” the taunting voice said. “Oh, I know. You’re trying to discern my location. I’ll make it easy for you. I’m right here.”

  With those words, a searing white light flicked on.

  Shelby’s insides twisted as his eyes adjusted to the brightness. What appeared before him looked like the staging ground for a miniature assault. A Hummer vehicle, matte black, was parked just outside the tree line. Flanking it were several heavily armed men, each looking more lethal and vicious than the last.

  “Now,” Darkmore said. “Put the gun down. Slowly…very good.”

  Shelby bent down, placed the weapon on the ground, and then straightened again. “There. I put it down. Feel safer now?”

  Darkmore ignored the remark. “You caused me a great deal of hardship downstate, Alexander. You destroyed my supply lines and damaged the trust I had with partners and acquaintances. In fact, I was very close to becoming a laughingstock, and all because of you. My assets and accounts were frozen by the authorities, and so I had to reconstruct my financial network to even begin putting things back together.”

  Shelby found his voice. “You seem to have done all right.”

  “It’s not what I had, but it’s a start.” Darkmore’s tone suggested he considered this response a gracious one. “Yet I don’t intend to complain. My only purpose in telling you all this was to make sure you understood the severe inconvenience you caused and, therefore, would understand exactly how angry I am at you.”

  “Sorry about that,” Shelby said, his own tone suggesting he wasn’t sorry at all. “I have this anger problem, see. I get upset when people kidnap my daughter. I really should see a professional about it.”

  Darkmore laughed. “Your sense of humor is simply delightful.”

  “Glad you enjoy it. Now, about my daughter—”

  Darkmore held up a hand. “All in good time. I will ruin the suspense by saying, yes. I do have her. She’s in the basement of the house, as you no doubt already surmised. Yet befo
re we have the pleasure of seeing father and daughter reunited, I feel I should thank you.”

  “Thank me? If you mean letting you live the last time we met, that was an accident.”

  “No, not that. I clearly remember the scream you let out when you realized I’d escaped. It was such a lovely scream. A father’s fury gone unavenged. And now you’ve lost again. Which brings me back to the point I was trying to make. I really should thank you for walking into my trap.”

  “Your trap?”

  “Oh, come now, Alexander. Don’t disappoint me by saying you didn’t have at least an inkling of an idea about what was happening. Not that it would have stopped you from charging in here like a wounded rhino. That does seem your style.”

  “You seem to know all kinds of things about me.”

  “I should. I’ve been studying you ever since our previous encounter.”

  “What, do you have a school report due on Monday?”

  “A report—ah, you’re joking again. How droll. I can assure you I am being serious. I made it my business to learn everything there is to know about you, Alexander. I’ve been reading about your past exploits, watching your cabin, and listening to your phone calls. You are quite a predictable person, you know. A man in your position should practice unpredictability and be more suspicious. Cynicism saves lives, Alexander. You should have remembered that.”

  “Something tells me you would have found a way to make a nuisance of yourself, no matter what I did.”

  “You’re probably right. Although, digging up information about your past activities was useful.”

  “I hear it makes wonderful reading.”

  “And so it does. You’ve sent a lot of men to prison and even more to the grave in your time. And speaking of prison, it was there my plan was hatched.”

  “You were never in prison.”

  “No, but many of my associates are, including those sent there by your actions. As you might guess, they aren’t terribly pleased with you about that. Oh, sure, some have turned stoolie, but most have been good soldiers.”

  “How good?”

  “Good enough to make the right friends. It’s surprising who you can meet in prison, Alexander. Imagine my delight when I received a message from a confidant who informed me that he had met a man who claimed to be a part of the Ellis family. Now this name may not mean much to most, but as I say, I have done extensive research on you and I immediately knew the man he was talking about. Scott Ellis: the only brother to have escaped your juggernaut against the family. Needless to say, it was a simple matter to ally with a man who harbors such hate against you. In fact, he was willing to do just about anything in order to bring you down.”