Hidden Fire

by Jo Davis

She stared at him, surprise etched on her beautiful face. The second the words left his lips, he wanted to call them back, tell her he’d move in tonight. However, his gut told him he’d done the right thing.

  “I really want to be with you, to spend all of our nights together. Please believe me,” she said, voice betraying a bit of anxiousness.

  “I do, and I want the same.”

  “Promise you’ll let me know soon?”

  “I promise, baby.”

  Smiling, he reached for her hand, curled his fingers around hers. Confusion and indecision warred on her face, but after a few seconds, she appeared to relax. He heaved a sigh of relief as she took a sip of her wine, visibly trying to regroup.

  Yes, it seemed he’d made the right move for a change.

  “Julian?” She nodded to a couple across the room. “Isn’t that Carmelita?”

  Well, it would be his luck tonight, wouldn’t it? Turning his head, he peered across the dimly lit restaurant to the couple seated against the far wall at a cozy table for two. Sure enough, his friend was having dinner with a dark-haired man.

  “That’s her, and the date must be Konrad.”

  Carmelita looked great, as always, cinnamon hair tumbling over the shoulders of her black top. The man appeared enraptured by her bubbly conversation, smiling and nodding.

  Julian’s pulse stuttered unexpectedly. Something about the man’s profile, how he tilted his head, set off alarm bells in his brain.

  “Shouldn’t we go say hello?” Even though Grace made the suggestion, she didn’t sound too enthusiastic.

  “No, I’ll get the scoop later. Besides, they’re leaving.”

  The couple stood and began to make their way toward the exit. She walked ahead of her date, and as she did, he put his right arm around her waist in a proprietary gesture. Julian caught a glimpse of something sticking from underneath the sleeve of his sport coat, and they were out the door before Julian realized what he’d seen.

  “A brace. That man had on a wrist brace!”

  “What? Oh . . .”

  Grace registered his words as he pushed to his feet and bolted through the restaurant, dodging patrons and busy waiters. One waiter bobbled his tray full of dishes, but Julian didn’t stop to find out if he’d caused an accident.

  Grace called for him to slow down, but he ran faster, burst out the doors, and stood, scanning the parking lot frantically. Just then, the couple emerged from the shadows under a streetlamp, heading for a car parked alone in the gloom.

  “Carmelita!” he yelled. “Wait!”

  They were only a few steps from the car. He couldn’t get to her in time.

  “Dulce, wait! Stop!”

  She heard him that time and turned, mouth dropping open to see him running full tilt toward them. The man with her spun, took one look at Julian, and cursed, reaching under his coat. Planting his feet, he extended his arm, something shiny in his hand.

  “Back off!” the man bellowed, and the muzzle flashed.

  At the pop, Julian hit the ground, gravel biting into his palms. No pain bloomed, no gunshot wound, and he scrambled to his knees to see Konrad—or whatever his name was—grab Carmelita by the hair and shove the muzzle against her temple.

  “Get in and drive! Do it!”

  “No!” He was on his feet and running again, racing to stop them. “Leave her alone!”

  But the man was already shoving her into the Mercedes. The one with the license plate that began with the same letters as the one he’d used to drive away with Brett Charles.

  Dios, no, please!

  He couldn’t catch them, no matter how hard he ran. He saw the man’s silhouette, the gun to Carmelita’s head, as he forced her to drive away.

  This time, however, he had the entire plate number.

  “Oh, God.” He stopped, panting, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Footsteps approached, running, and he heard Grace calling his name. The gunshot! He turned, searching her from head to toe. “Are you hurt?”

  “No, he missed us both,” she said, out of breath. “Was that him? The guy who broke in and tried to kill you?”

  “Unless you believe in impossible odds, yes. And that’s the man I saw leaving the club with Brett Charles.”

  “What’s he doing with Carmelita?”

  Fear gripped him. “I think that’s coincidence. Maybe.” He took out his cell phone and dialed Shane again. When the man picked up and said hello, he nearly fell over. “Where the fuck have you been?”

  “I was just about to call you. Got your messages about the cave idea and let me just say, we owe you one. That cave on the San Antonio property? The entrance had been covered up with rocks and dirt and it took our brethren there a while to find it. Man, it has holding cells built into it. They said the place was obviously used as a prison and torture chamber. The hellhole is fucking teeming with forensic evidence.”

  “Search warrant?”

  “We’re working on it. A few hours, at most.”

  “Not good enough. That bastard who broke into my apartment is the one I saw leaving the club with Brett Charles. He was having dinner with a friend of mine tonight and I spotted the cast on his wrist, recognized him. He took a shot at me and Grace, then forced my friend to drive off at gunpoint.”

  “We’ve still got time to get the Vineses. This man, if he’s connected to them, doesn’t know we suspect them. All he knows is you recognized him. Does he have a name?”

  “Konrad something, works at her accounting firm. Probably not his real name, but I have something just as good—the whole plate number on his Mercedes.”

  “Good job. Lay it on me.”

  He gave Shane the number and the name of Carmelita’s accounting firm.

  “We’re on to him, all of them, so don’t you worry,” Shane reassured him. “They’re going down, tonight. Sit tight, my friend. I mean that.”

  “Yeah.” The lie stuck in his throat. “Call me.” Hanging up, he looked into Grace’s wide eyes.

  “The cave idea panned out?”

  He nodded, raking a hand through his hair. “They’re about to get them all for kidnapping and murder. But the warrant will take too long for Carmelita, and anyone else who might still be alive, should ‘Konrad’ report in and they panic.”

  “What are we going to do now?” She fell in step beside him as he jogged for his car.

  “You’re going to go inside to call your sister and Six-Pack to come get you,” he said. “I’m about to trespass on private property.”

  “Oh, no you’re not! I’m going with you.” Grace glared at him. No way was he doing this alone. “If there’s the slightest chance of getting Carmelita and anyone else out of their clutches alive, we have to go now. There’s no time to waste arguing.”

  “Dammit, Grace!”

  “Safety in numbers, plus two people can accomplish more working together. In fact, extra backup is in order.”

  They jumped into his car and he fired it up, leaving the restaurant behind in a shower of gravel. “What extra backup?”

  “Give me your cell phone.”

  He handed it over and she quickly placed a call. Her brother-in-law picked up on the second ring and she got right to the point. “Howard, it’s Grace. We need your help.”

  “Anything,” he said, instantly alert. “What’s up?”

  Ignoring the slight shake of Julian’s head, she outlined what had happened tonight. “In short, the police can’t move without the warrant, and by then it will be too late. We need reinforcements. Can you help?”

  “I’m there, sugar. Directions?”

  “Hang on.” She handed the phone to Julian. “I don’t know how to get there.”

  Julian took over, giving Howard the directions, with a dose of caution. “When you turn down their road, douse the lights and drive past the house. The road winds down through the trees and is eventually hidden from the house. You’ll come to a fork. Hang to the left and drive along the river if it’s not too wet to get your truc
k down there. Otherwise, you’ll have to park and walk.”

  He paused, listening, then continued. “Yes, about a hundred yards down, we’ll be waiting below the cave entrance. We’ll have to climb up to it and it’ll be pitch-black, so bring a good flashlight and shoes with tread. We’ll all go together so we don’t get lost. And Howard? Thanks, man.”

  He hung up and handed the phone back to her, but didn’t speak. Studying his profile, she wished tonight had turned out differently. She’d hurt him so badly, she wanted to cry. Why couldn’t she just say the words? Why wasn’t she brave enough to take the leap as he’d done? Just let go of the rope?

  What’s wrong with me?

  But this wasn’t the time. Later, maybe, when all this was over.

  Julian followed the route he’d told Howard to take, dousing his lights as they drove past the darkened house. Thankfully, the moon was bright, shining on the trees and the river to their left, so they weren’t driving completely blind. However, the skeletal branches encroaching on either side of the car, reaching out like bony fingers, lent a special brand of creepiness to the mission.

  As the car bumped over the rutted path along the river, Julian snorted. “If I’m going to be driving across fields and shit all the time, I might have to trade this thing in for a big-assed truck like Howard’s.”

  “When you’re the proud owner of that property, fixing fences and building your house, you’re going to need one.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so.”

  His smile lit the darkness. “Thanks, baby.”

  To his credit, he didn’t push, didn’t ask whether she’d be there, overseeing the plans with him. Little did he know she very much could envision that future, at his side, creating their paradise together.

  During her daydream, he’d stopped the car. Glancing around, she shivered, reluctant to leave the safety of the car. Coming here ahead of the cavalry had seemed like a good idea, but now she wished she’d urged him to back off and wait. Not that he would’ve listened.

  They got out and shut their doors quietly, though there wasn’t a living soul around to hear. She hugged herself to ward off the sudden chill. “Can you feel it?”

  “What, baby?”

  “Evil.”

  He came around to her side of the car, pulled her close. “Yeah. I’ve been feeling that for about fifteen years.”

  “It’s almost over,” she said, resting her cheek against his chest.

  “God willing.”

  They stood entwined until the whine of an engine, the crunch of the road under tires, approached. The outline of Howard’s truck became visible and finally pulled to a stop behind Julian’s car. To her surprise, two figures got out.

  “Party started yet?” Howard’s voice.

  “We’re waiting on the keg,” Julian said. “Who’s with you?”

  “It’s me. Sean. Couldn’t let you guys get all the action.”

  Grace barely made out Julian clapping each of them on the back, thanking them.

  “No problem,” Howard said. “What’s the plan?”

  Turning, Julian popped his trunk. Fishing inside, he found what he sought and turned on the flashlight, keeping it pointed at the ground. “You guys bring one of these?”

  “Check,” Sean said, waving his.

  “Okay. Grace and I will hike up there and check out the cave. Why don’t you two go up to the house and make sure nobody’s home, keep an eye out?”

  “Since none of us are familiar with the layout, Sean and I will go up there with you first so we can see which way you’ve gone. Just in case we have to come looking for you.”

  “Good idea. Ready?”

  Without waiting to hear whether they were, Julian led the uphill climb. The grade was steep, the foot- and handholds tricky, but approximately ten minutes later they were standing at the mouth of the cave, shining their lights on the rather unimpressive crescent-shaped entrance.

  “Doesn’t look like much,” Sean observed.

  Julian started inside, ducking to keep from hitting his head. “Let’s take a look.”

  Grace followed on his heels, the others behind her, and in a few steps, they all stood gaping at the sight before them.

  “Oh, my Lord!” Grace’s voice echoed off the huge cathedral ceiling. “Look at this place!”

  “Dang, I feel like I should, like, genuflect or something,” Howard said in awe.

  “You’re not Catholic, big guy.”

  “Still.”

  The soaring dome indeed had the feel of a church, though the floor was pitted and uneven. Two tunnels branched off the main chamber, and she dreaded venturing down either of them. This was nothing like the nice, safe guided tours given at the state parks. Anything could happen to them here and no one would ever be the wiser.

  “Let’s take the tunnel on the right to start with,” Julian said. “We’ll give the search about fifteen or twenty minutes and then head back to check in. I don’t want to get lost and my theory is, if there’s anything down here to find, they wouldn’t want to have to walk far.”

  “All right. Keep your cell phone on vibrate,” Howard put in. “Don’t know what kind of reception we’ll get, but every added precaution can’t hurt.”

  “You guys be careful.” Sean started back for the mouth, Howard behind him.

  “Stay with me, baby,” Julian said, heading for the tunnel.

  “I’m on you like Velcro.”

  To prove it, she hooked a finger through one of his belt loops, trailing him through the narrow passage. The path was twisty, the footing tricky, and she had to concentrate not to knock him over.

  Suddenly he stopped, and she plowed into his back. “Ow! A little warning, please?”

  He waved the light on the ground in front of him. “Look at the dirt here.”

  Peering around him, she noted a wet, boggy area with dirt and mud in the path, likely caused by rainwater dripping through the rock. “So?”

  “No tracks. If people passed through here all the time, we’d see muddy shoe prints going out the other side. The area is undisturbed.”

  “Brilliant, Mr. Holmes. Now what? Turn back or go a little farther?”

  “A little farther, just to be sure.”

  The trip was brief. Moments later, the excursion ended in a small, empty chamber that some American Indian might have used as a bedroom.

  Julian sighed. “Okay, we’ll go back and call Six-Pack, let them know this one’s a bust, then try the other one. What if I was wrong? I’m starting to feel like an idiot.”

  “Better than feeling guilty for hoping we don’t find a thing so we can get out of here,” she admitted. “This place is seriously giving me the creeps.”

  Latching on to his jeans again, she tried not to think about bats. They hadn’t seen any so far, and she hoped they were out hunting their dinner. They made it to the main chamber without mishap, and Julian walked to the mouth of the cave for better reception and made the call.

  “Hey, it’s me. The right tunnel was a dead end, so we’re going down the left one now. Any movement up there?” Paused. “Okay, we’ll see you soon.” He flipped the phone shut and replaced it in his pocket. “All’s quiet at the house.”

  “Great. Let’s get moving so we can go home and open a really massive bottle of wine.”

  Taking her hand, he led her to the other tunnel, eventually letting go so she could follow single file again. She stuck close, noting the pitted hollows on either side of the path, perfect for some horror-movie monster to leap out of and rip them apart.

  “Ugh, I hate these niches in the wall, or whatever they are—”

  “Shh.” He stopped, listening.

  “What?”

  “Listen.”

  At first she heard nothing. And then . . . a faint noise. Sort of high-pitched, echoing from the bowels of the earth. Every hair on her body stood on end as though she’d been electrocuted. “Is that . . . singing?”

  “That’s what it sounds l
ike.”

  “Shit. Maybe we should go back, call the guys.”

  “This might be our only chance to see what’s down here. Or who. Come on.”

  As they moved slowly down the dank corridor, the sing-song noise became clearer. As did the rancid stench that did not belong in a place of mere rock and earth.

  Julian made a sound of disgust. “Cristo, I don’t want to think what that smell might be.”

  And then, from somewhere just beyond them in the gloom, came a sound she’d never forget. A very human, raspy voice singing the low, haunting melody of “Comfortably Numb.” Goose bumps broke out on her arms and she clutched at Julian’s back.

  “Oh my God, Julian!”

  He picked up the pace as they rounded a bend. The flashlight beams glinted off metal. Bars. Cell doors.

  Halting, he shone his light into the first one, and a soft exclamation escaped his lips.

  “Ah, Madre de Dios.”

  Huddled in the corner of his prison, naked and filthy, a young man rocked, lost in his own world. Julian tapped on the bars to get his attention.

  “Son, can you hear me?”

  The singing and rocking stopped, and the young man lifted his head, face crumpling. “I won’t scream. . . . You can’t make me.”

  Oh, God, poor baby.

  “We’re not going to hurt you,” Julian soothed. “We’re going to get you out. What’s your name, son?”

  The kid squinted into the light and considered a moment, as though trying to recall.

  “B-Brett,” he said, voice breaking. “Brett Charles.”

  18

  For the kid’s benefit, Julian struggled to rein in his horror. Because, shit, those slender shoulders were shaking and Julian’s terror would amplify the kid’s.

  “Brett! Cut it out and listen to me,” he barked. The cries became muffled as the kid made a visible effort to stop, and the noise tore at his heart. “You want us to bust you out, you’ve got to listen, okay?”

  “O-okay.”

  “My name’s Julian and I’m a firefighter with the Sugarland Fire Department,” he told Brett, using the same friendly tone he did with accident victims. Firefighters inspired trust and a sense things would be all right. It would give Brett something to focus on.