The Emily Taylor Mystery Bundle

by Catherine Astolfo

  Langford stood in the yard, digging up a bush that hadn't made it through the winter. When he turned toward them, he was sweating and dirty.

  To his wife, he looked endearingly handsome and even sexy, but she did wonder how Cate might envision him. He was so tall, almost intimidating.

  This truly was an ironic situation. If some of the people who'd thought of Langford as a convicted criminal knew that a young girl was spending the night here for safety and refuge, they would be shaking their heads in disbelief.

  On the other hand, if they could see the softness and empathy in his eyes at this moment, they would know that Langford Taylor was not the man they imagined him to be.

  Angel broke the silence first. She ran up to Cate and eagerly jumped into her arms as the girl bent down to ruffle the little dog's fur.

  Their mutually affectionate encounter gave Emily a moment to explain to Langford, but few words were necessary. He knew a great deal about the Sandersons already.

  The four of them, including one beloved pet, had a quiet dinner in front of the kitchen window, looking out over the placid lake and the spindly trees, just beginning to burst with green. Despite the tension and worry, they basked a little in the promising spring atmosphere.

  By early evening, the girl appeared comfortable, perhaps a tiny bit more relaxed. Her hunched shoulders were a little straighter. The furrowed lines on her face were replaced by a slightly more tranquil countenance.

  When the telephone rang, Langford went to answer it, while Emily took Cate upstairs. In the spare room, Emily showed Cate her accommodation for the night. Side by side, they sat on the bed and looked out over the trees. Cate reached out to touch her. Emily held the soft hand tenderly as tears began to slide down the youthful face.

  "You've done the right thing, Cate," Emily reassured her, thinking she knew the source of this grief. "I know it was the most difficult thing you've ever done, but maybe now Aaron will get the help he needs."

  She shook her head. "That's not it, Mrs. Taylor," she whispered, choking a bit on her tears. "I feel kind of guilty, but not about Aaron. I just wish all my sisters and brothers could know what this feels like. Being here, with you and Mr. Taylor. This is what a home is supposed to be like, isn't it?"

  Emily was overwhelmed by Cate's wisdom and insight, by her generous nature. Unable to respond, the woman simply hugged and held the child while she cried.

  When the girl fell asleep, exhaustion overwhelming her grief, Emily stayed by her side for a long time. Brushing the damp hairs away from Cate's forehead, Emily vowed to see this lovely face one day as a child's should be—unlined, untroubled, joyful.

  When she turned to the doorway, she saw the stricken look on Langford's face. Emily knew immediately that there was more devastation to suffer and that serenity would not be easy for Cate to achieve.

  Chapter 58: Doro

  Afterward, it was difficult for anyone to describe the events in order. When Frances and Alain overpowered Isaac Rondeau, the rifle flipped across the dais and clattered to the floor.

  Both Alain and Aaron reached for the weapon at once, but the boy was no match for the man. Alain towered over the child, then swung the gun in his direction.

  Meanwhile, Frances forced Rondeau to lie flat on the altar, her foot squarely placed in the middle of his back. She grabbed her gun from his pocket and kept it pointed at him.

  Carl Sanderson continued to rant. He pleaded with the people to forgive, to stand up for right, to go home and pray. To be part of this evil no more.

  The congregation was obviously utterly confused and frightened. The moment one person began to walk toward the exit, there was a rustling from the pews as one after another, they made the decision to leave.

  Dorothy Sanderson screamed obscenities at them, beseeching them to turn away from cowardice and come back to the light.

  Only her children remained rooted in their seats.

  Frances ordered the people to stop, but they obviously knew she would never fire a gun into a crowd. The chaotic movement continued.

  Suddenly Aaron raced from the podium, ignoring Alain's warnings, and began a frenetic whirl down the aisles.

  Neither Alain nor Frances had a safe aim at him, for he immediately integrated himself with the congregation.

  As he danced, perhaps purposely, perhaps as a result of his spinning flurry, the numerous candles and lanterns were flung throughout the room.

  The chaos deepened into terror as the altar cloths, the drapes, the baskets and even parts of the wooden pews began to burn.

  Within a few precious moments, during which all of the people in that room froze with indecision and shock, the gas lanterns exploded, spewing smoke, sparks and heat onto their heads. Only a few of them made it to the exit before the clouds from flaming objects obliterated the ability to see.

  As the huge door was pulled open, the sucking action drove a burst of oxygen into the fire, advancing more explosions and the leap of flames from one curtain to the next, from one bundle of cloth to the other, from the wooden beams to the ceiling to the floor. In less time than could be imagined, the entire barn was a searing inferno.

  Frances leapt from the altar toward May and Alain. As the lanterns burst around them, they fell to their knees on the floor and crawled toward the back door.

  Screams and shouts could faintly be heard above the popping of glass and the screeching of the old wood as it succumbed to the fire.

  Through the smoke, May tried desperately to signal to the Sanderson children, but they had disappeared from the front pew.

  Alain dragged her away. They had to make it to safety themselves before they could try to help anyone, or they too would be smothered in the smoke.

  Several other people, including Isaac Rondeau, followed the three as they scrambled toward what they hoped was another exit to the outdoors. Coughing, their eyes tearing with the stench, they reached an enclosed area at the back of the barn.

  Almost fainting with relief, Frances spied the outside exit door. She flung herself to her feet and threw it open, filling the anteroom with fresh air.

  Behind her, Alain, May and several others clambered to their feet and stumbled into the waning light.

  Before they could fully recover, Alain, Frances and May turned back, shooing any escapees out into the lots beyond the building, attempting to help others as they made it through the exit.

  May cried out in joy as Meghan, Benjaman and Trevor Sanderson crawled through the doorway. All three children clung to her, sobbing hysterically. May lifted Meghan into her arms and led the boys into the field, far from the smoke. Collapsing on the wet grass, she covered their quivering bodies with her arms, bending their heads downward so they could no longer see the devastation.

  Frances and Alain each stood at an exit, pulling people to safety. They were unable to go more than a couple of feet into the building. It was quickly disintegrating and the black clouds of smoke completely eliminated any sightlines.

  As she stepped rapidly into the smoke at the rear exit, Frances spotted the prone shape of a child. She dragged Carly Sanderson toward the door, choking and wheezing. She was afraid she might pass out, when a strong pair of arms reached around her, picked the little girl up in his arms and pulled Frances to safety as well.

  Looking up in the light of the day, she saw Edgar and she began to cry.

  "I want you out of here," he said, not angrily or gruffly, but firmly and protectively.

  Frances, her usual rebellious nature overshadowed by concern for their own child, immediately acquiesced. She stumbled out to where May huddled with the Sanderson children.

  Beside the little group, Renae Ogemah stared at the conflagration, her eyes reflecting the shock and terror of the others.

  Frances realized that Edgar and Renae had somehow arrived with rescue crews, but she was too exhausted to wonder how they'd found them.

  The CAS worker noticed her suddenly and was instantly at her side, helping her to ease down onto the g
round, a jacket miraculously appearing around her shoulders and a blanket underneath.

  Her arms wrapped around her knees, Frances watched as emergency vehicles screamed down the laneway. Through the flames and smoke pouring from the building, firefighters, police and paramedics ensured safety, assisted the wounded, or pounded the fire with gushing water.

  Although everything looked chaotic, Frances knew from experience that everyone was playing his or her role. Every action was directed.

  Not only were the Ontario Provincial Police on hand, but local reinforcements soon arrived as well. From the Brinston logo on one of the cars, Frances surmised that they had come from all over the county to assist.

  Moe Fournier, the Fire Chief from Burchill, was among them, along with several volunteers, including Jacob Finch and Langford Taylor.

  Just as he'd said to Emily, Edgar had called for backup on his way to the Sandersons. They'd found the place deserted. As it turned out, Dorothy Sanderson had picked up the children from school. At the same time, Isaac Rondeau abducted May, Alain and Frances.

  As soon as Edgar approached the village, he'd seen the smoke and had called all the emergency services in the area.

  Despite valiant efforts, the building continued to cave in on itself. The walls trembled, the roof folded. Wooden beams crackled and burst like a fireplace full of newspaper. It was a tinderbox, a perfect setting for the eager inferno as it ate through the old wood and devoured the entire church.

  Frances shivered, envisioning the destruction of the house she was raised in, feeling as though everything had come full circle.

  Hours later, or so it seemed, an anguished hush fell over the scene. Ambulances raced injured people to hospitals in neighbouring cities and towns. Other vehicles headed toward morgues at a more leisurely, forlorn pace.

  Firefighters spread out on the ground or on the trucks, sipping water, gasping oxygen, their faces covered in soot.

  In the near distance, the barn was a pile of blackened, smouldering ash. Some of the more stubborn beams, half burned, fingered the sky.

  May and Renae departed with the three Sanderson children to the nearest hospital. Carly was raced away by helicopter to the city in a desperate attempt to save her life.

  In all, about fifteen people had been pulled to safety. Five bodies were recovered and, as an estimation based on eyewitness accounts, about ten others presumed dead. Among those who were safe, about half ran from the scene, only to be picked up by the police as they attempted to slink home. One of the recaptured was Isaac Rondeau.

  Among those whose bodies were laid out under tarps or had been taken away in hearses, were Aaron and Jennifer Sanderson. There was no sign of Tyler or Devon. Neither of their parents was recovered from the wreckage.

  Huge lights were trucked in to the site and now yellow caution ribbons glowed garishly in the dusk. For the emergency workers, there was no longer a frenzy attached to their work. They knew that they were searching for the dead. Time was no longer a factor.

  Frances now sat on the runner of a police van, covered with a warm blanket, sipping hot tea.

  Doc Murphy had arrived early on in the proceedings and, exhausted and clearly devastated, he perched on the side of a truck parked right beside the van, his long legs crossed, arms dangling at his sides.

  Jacob, Alain, Langford and Edgar took a break as well. They sat slumped on the grass nearby.

  Edgar had already grilled Doc on his wife's well being. The doctor assured him that her passageways were clear of soot. She had no cough or shortness of breath. Her eyes were unclouded and other than the same exhaustion the others were suffering, she was feeling fine. No headache, no dizziness, no signs that she inhaled any smoke that could have hurt her or the baby. After repeated reassurances, Ed was finally more relaxed.

  The sudden appearance of Sergeant Sellenger from Brinston created tension once again, but he quickly put his hand out to Edgar.

  "Superintendent Brennan," he said, his voice booming in the crushed silence. "I'm on my way back now. Just wanted you to know I've been assigned the pleasure of interviewing Isaac Rondeau, since he's one of ours."

  Edgar smiled a little, reacting to the pride in the blustering man's voice, as though having a criminal like Izzy was something the county should be thrilled about.

  "At first he was waving around a little revolver, but we soon stripped him of that. He's already admitted to several murders, including poor Marot. So you and your wife can rest at ease."

  As if he were their saviour, he smiled and nodded at Frances. "Good job, by the way." A skilled expert magnanimously bestowing praise on a lesser being.

  When he left, Edgar and Frances could not help but laugh. It eased their tension and allowed them to begin conversation, first by describing to Alain, Langford and Jacob their dealings with the Sergeant and then by examining the events that led them to this ruined church on a still, warm spring night.

  Alain and Frances told the story of Isaac Rondeau and the Sandersons in as much detail as they could remember.

  "I am still in shock," Alain said. "I have never been through anything like this. So many shocks really…some of them pretty wonderful." He smiled up at Frances. "I still cannot understand these people. I think I will struggle forever with the idea that we come from fanatics who believed they were destined to have power over everyone else."

  "No matter what they had to do to get it," Frances added, her tone angry. "They neglected us, beat our brother, abused us emotionally. Who knows what happened to our baby sister? And now the chain has led to all of this death."

  She waved distractedly toward the destroyed barn.

  There was a moment of silence in the heat of her fury.

  Then Jacob said carefully, "From what I've read, your parents started out as a loving family. Something happened to them along the way. There were a surprising number of articles about the Church of Leviticus in terms of brainwashing. Some people don't believe it exists, while others are convinced that mind control has to be the explanation for otherwise sane people becoming completely dominated by a religious group."

  "Your father could have suffered prolonged indoctrination. After all, he was a pupil of Abraham Martin and then after he split, he had Isaac Rondeau as his major influence. I think they convinced him that his wife was a whore, that she was actually a child of Molech. Even her last name helped their stance."

  "But a person would have to be insane to believe that shit," Frances argued.

  Jacob nodded slightly. "I guess you could say that. The cultists take vulnerable, damaged people and manipulate them. You would be astounded by the number of intelligent, seemingly normal people that have been somehow convinced that aggressive acts, immoral behaviour and even murder are acceptable as a means to an end by so-called religious movements."

  "I think your father was defeated and depressed and became isolated from the community. All perfect ingredients for what some psychologists call coercive persuasion. Not everyone can become victims of thought control, but if you have the right conditions, you can be talked into just about anything. Like your wife being unfaithful."

  "Just now, when they were arguing in there, Dorothy suggested that it was our mother who killed Faith," Alain said.

  Jacob was silent for a moment. When he responded, they could all tell that it took a huge effort to speak the words.

  "I wondered about your mother. After reading over the various articles, I began to think that she might have had postpartum depression. It's something I know about," he added. "When you are that depressed, you can even kill your own child."

  "That would make sense. If she did kill Faith, she played right into their hands. Made it even easier to convince our father that she was the devil," Alain said.

  "It's a theory," Jacob stated, standing and stretching out his back. "Food for thought, Frances and Alain. We should all sit down at some time and debrief this entire thing. If you want to, of course."

  "I want to," Frances responded imme
diately, also getting to her feet. "I started this process to discover my roots, to try and dispel the nightmares. I don't want to replace the old ones with new ones. I can't give our baby a legacy of fear."

  Edgar wrapped his arms around her. "Don't worry. We won't let that happen."

  Alain stood too and hugged his sister. "Neither will her aunt and uncle."

  "Her?"

  "Oui, it's a girl, I predict."

  Frances wrapped her arms around his waist, her head coming to just under his chin. When she stepped back again, she asked, "How's May doing with the kids?"

  "I just talked to her. They were seen at the Brinston Hospital, where they were all given a clean bill of health, physically at least. They're being taken to our place. Probably be there in an hour or so. Looks like we're going to have a full house for a while."

  "I think you should all head home," Edgar said. "I'll be there as soon as I can, Frances. I just have to make sure all the jail cells are full."

  He gave a mirthless chuckle and kissed her tenderly on the lips. "Take Frances Junior home and put her to bed with you."

  But his wife was not quite ready to depart. "What about Emily? Does she know about all of this?"

  "She knows about the fire, of course," Langford said, taking his turn with a hug. "But I haven't called her since I left. I'll do that when I get in the car. You coming back with me, Jacob?"

  "Absolutely," the lawyer responded. "What about you, Frances?"

  "I'm going to take my brother home," she answered.

  Just then, April asserted its true nature and the rain began. Fat drops splashed lazily at first and then pelted onto the dusty ground, over the ruined barn, causing a hissing smoke to billow into the sky.

  The emergency workers looked up and cheered.

  Chapter 59: Emily

  The day was warm and sunny, with the kind of clear, oxygen-saturated air that creates a whirlwind of energy. Everyone skipped rather than walked, smiled more broadly, waved more enthusiastically. A cacophony of voices hovered on the breeze, as people found their places at picnic tables or spaces to spread their blankets. Once seated, there was a kind of tranquility as voices lowered in order to hear the gentle wind in the grass or a bird in the tree above.