He fell to his knees and fumbled for the radio John had given him. He hit the button and opened his mouth, but nothing came out except a croak. Instead he paged John using the S-O-S from Morse code. That would give John some idea Matthias and Bolton needed help.
The unit slipped from his fingers. Please God, let him get the message.
Matthias tried to breathe, but it was like his throat was clogged. His head hit the floor, his body no longer able to sustain his weight. He tried to move so he could see Bolton on the floor beside him.
“Bolton, come in.” John’s voice was breathy like he was running. “Matthias, are you there?” He paused a second. “I can’t get to you right now, I need you to tell me where you are. I’ll send someone to retrace your steps and figure it out, but unless you can tell me right now, that’s going to take some time.”
A car door slammed, and John sucked in a breath. “Mimi gave me enough to go on that I think Frannie is at the water treatment plant. I have to go there and get her first, but I’ll have Hal and the guys come to you.”
Matthias could hear him driving, the sound going in and out like a bad speaker. He pressed the button on the radio and tried to speak, but all that came out was a croak. Black spots were beginning to prick along the edges of his sight.
“Stay safe.” John’s voice was unlike he’d ever heard it before. Torn, worried. “I’m sending someone to you now.”
Matthias didn’t know if he and Bolton would still be breathing when Hal and the guys arrived. But if John was going to get Frannie, nothing else mattered. She would be safe. Matthias could die knowing he’d tried to save her with everything he had. It wasn’t enough to give them a future, but he’d done it.
To his last breath.
Chapter 23
Frannie scrambled across the floor. The killer had unscrewed a panel on the pipe that was as big as a tree trunk. The four screws lay discarded on the floor and he was looking inside.
He was going to pour that stuff in the water? She couldn’t let him do this. “Don’t. Please. They’ll die.”
She grabbed his leg, but he kicked out, catching her side. Pain bounced through her rib cage like a ping pong ball. His mouth curled into a snarl.
“Only the old and ready to depart. And some children, but there aren’t too many of those in town. Innocents who should never have been brought here in the first place.”
He would infect the whole town with Einetine so only the healthy who were able to fight off its diluted effects would survive? She thought, then, of Reuben and Simeon; exuberant boys who had enough to deal with without someone trying to kill them.
“That’s not for you to decide,” she said. “You’re not their judge, jury and executioner.” He was more like the grim reaper, dispensing some twisted form of what he thought was aid.
Frannie struggled to stand, even while he unscrewed the lid of the bottle. When he moved to pour it in, Frannie kicked the back of his knee with as much strength as she had. He started to fall and the liquid sloshed, missing the opening into the pipe.
The killer grabbed the pipe, lifted himself to standing and poured the rest in.
“No!” Frannie grasped him, using the grip to lift herself off the floor.
She slammed her fists into his back even though it was too late. He looked up at the ceiling and laughed, long and loud. The sound echoed in the cement room, permeating Frannie’s heart with cold and darkness.
She turned and tried to run for the door. People had to be warned. There had to be a phone.
The killer grabbed her hair. The sharp pain halted her as he flung her backward. Frannie landed on the floor, and her back slammed against the concrete.
“You made me do it! You didn’t have to interfere.”
Frannie said, “I should have stood there and let you kill Stella?”
“She wanted to die!” His face was red now, the portion she could see around his mouth and those dead eyes.
Frannie looked at him then, really looked. “Father Wilson.” She could hardly believe it.
He whipped the mask off. “She told me you would figure it out.”
Frannie choked. Who was she?
“She claimed you might be clever enough, but that she was smarter. Too bad for her. If I’m going down then she’s going with me.”
Frannie’s stomach sank. “Mimi.”
“She was fun for a while, but all things must come to an end.” He leaned forward, a shadow of the man who was supposed to love people and serve his church with honor. Now his face was twisted with rage, the same way his mind was twisted to believe what he was doing was the right thing.
He reached back into the waistband of his slacks and pulled out a knife. “I always carry my weapon with me. Even all these years later.” He studied the end of the steel, nicked instead of smooth—and marred by something dark. “Seems it will finally come in handy once more.”
Frannie curled up on the floor. He lifted the knife, and she wrapped her arms around her head. It wouldn’t stop what was coming. Breath arrested in her lungs as she waited for the pain.
A gunshot split the air.
Frannie looked up from the shelter of her arms.
John stood in the door, a bullet proof vest covering his chest, and on his face, the hard look of a US Marshal facing down a suspect. “Drop the weapon, Wilson. It’s over.”
Frannie looked at Father Wilson. He wasn’t hurt. John must not have hit him with that first shot. While the father’s attention was on John, Frannie slid backward. When she was out of knife range, she said, “He poisoned the water supply. We have to tell everyone not to drink it.”
John didn’t take his attention from the father. “Drop the knife, Wilson.”
It clattered on the concrete, ringing out a discordant sound.
John let go of the gun with one hand, pulled out his radio and tossed it to her. Frannie fumbled but kept it from falling. “Type two-zero-six-four and then hold the button down. It’s like a walkie-talkie, but you’ll intercom the whole town. Every phone.”
Frannie’s terror-filled brain managed to grasp what he was telling her. She typed the numbers and pressed the button on the side. “Everyone?”
A high pitched sound rang outside the door.
“This is Frannie. Don’t drink the water.” Her voice echoed in the hallway, proof she was getting through.
“Don’t anyone drink the water.” The words tumbled from her mouth as she gripped the satellite phone that doubled as his radio.
“Sheriff Mason is busy with his gun pointed at Father Wilson, who’s been killing people for years, or he’d tell you this himself. Father Wilson poisoned the town water supply. Is everyone listening? Don’t drink the water. Don’t take a shower or wash your hands, or anything. Not until we know it’s safe.”
Frannie let go of the button. She didn’t know what else to say, but prayed the message got through.
Immediately the phone in her hand began to ring. Number after number flashed on the screen of John’s unit listing the residents’ four digit extension numbers. Did they think she was going to answer?
John said, “Turn around. Hands on your head.”
Wilson complied, and the sheriff took three steps toward him. He didn’t lower his gun until the last minute before stowing his weapon and taking out handcuffs.
Frannie saw Wilson’s face. “He—”
Wilson spun. His fist traveled with his momentum and caught John in the stomach. John punched back, completely unfazed. Wilson staggered. John hit him again and again until Wilson doubled over. “If Matthias and Bolton are dead, it’s on you and that stuff you’ve been using to poison everyone.”
Frannie whispered. “Matthias?”
“If anyone dies it’s on you.” John drew his gun again and Wilson grabbed for it. They wrestled, Wilson grunting and panting. “I’m not going to jail.”
Frannie set her hand against the wall to steady herself. “You killed Matthias?” She stepped forward.
“Frannie,” John warned. “Stay back.”
She grabbed Wilson’s arm. “Where is he? What did you do to him?”
He didn’t even look at her, so Frannie shook him harder. “Where is he?”
The door flung open. Dan Walden, the town’s farmer, filled the doorway.
“Frannie.” John’s voice made her back up. He started to restrain Wilson, getting one of the cuffs on the struggling man.
Dan rushed across the room, kicking the knife farther out of the way before going to a valve at the end of the wall. He gritted his teeth and turned it, putting what looked like every ounce of effort into what he was doing.
“I can help.” She rushed toward him. “Tell me what—”
Wilson’s arm wrapped around her neck. He spun them both, forcing her to face John.
“Let her go.”
Wilson shook his head, his breath hot on her neck. “Drop your gun.”
John stowed it in the holster on his belt.
Wilson said, “Back up or I snap her neck.”
John raised both hands. “You’ve hurt enough people.” His eyes flicked for a second over her shoulder, toward Dan.
Wilson jerked around, sideways so Dan was on Frannie’s left and John was on her right. He inched them past John, toward the door.
His grip around her neck was solid. He smelled like the chemical. The memory of what breathing in Einetine had done to her—coupled with his arm—was enough to close her throat. Matthias was dead? And Bolton? Her heart felt like it had been ripped to shreds. He’d been her only hope for a good future. Her only promise for a life more than the one she’d been living before, so empty and lonely. Matthias was what she loved most in this world. And now he was gone.
Frannie struggled, unwilling to let Matthias’s killer get away. He shoved her and ran for the door. Frannie stumbled and fell down. John ran past her, narrowly missing slamming into her as he sprinted out the door after Father Wilson.
Dan left the pipes and rushed across the room to her. “Are you okay?”
The farmer’s dark hair fell over his forehead. He looked like he’d had a long, hard day. He was several years older than her, and Frannie had liked him even before he told her about what God had done for her.
She smiled but didn’t try to get up. Every bone in her body was sore. “Is Tias really…are he and Bolton dead?”
Dan squeezed her shoulder. “Let’s get you some help, and then we’ll find out. I had no idea what was going on until you made the announcement.”
“Okay.” She shut her eyes for a second.
Dan slid one arm under her shoulders and the other behind her knees and lifted her. “Let’s get you to the medical center.”
Frannie opened her eyes when they reached the door. Just in time to see John return.
“He’s gone.”
Dan stopped. “You lost him?”
“Rounded the corner and he just…disappeared.” John shook his head like he couldn’t believe it. “It was unreal, like the man’s a ghost.”
**
“We need a way to draw him out.” John leaned against the wall in the medical center room. Bolton was sitting on one bed, a breathing mask over his mouth and nose. Matthias was on the bed next to his, the same way but lying down.
Frannie sat in the chair beside him. She wanted desperately to hold his hand, just to reassure herself he was unhurt, but she couldn’t. She’d pushed him away. And whether he needed her now or not, she wasn’t able to take back the words she’d said to him.
No matter how much Frannie loved him she had to keep it to herself.
She looked around the room. Andra stood beside Nadia Marie, whose gaze was solely on Bolton. She looked like she was about to cry, and while Bolton hadn’t made any move to reassure her he was okay, Frannie could see he was more than aware of Nadia Marie’s distress over his condition.
Everyone else had been barred from the room, which was telling in and of itself. Still, as much as she wouldn’t mind Sonny, Louis, Michael and Hal being here, she was grateful the four men weren’t crowding her chair, studying her reaction to Matthias having breathed in the poison.
The doctor had given the two men each a dose of the drug that counteracted the Einetine, but they weren’t the only ones affected.
As of minutes before, three people had been brought in because they’d ingested the poisoned water supply. Sheriff Mason had made additional announcements and sent a group of people out to go house-to-house and explain what was happening in case anyone hadn’t heard. Director Grant Mason was having more medicine brought in.
No one had died yet, thank you God. But several people needed the same treatment Matthias and Bolton had received.
Nadia Marie broke Andra’s hold on her arm. “I have to go let my dog out.” She rushed to the door and ducked out. Right before it shut behind her, Nadia Marie let out a sob.
Bolton looked at Andra, a question in his eyes.
“You’re not invincible, and neither is her brother.”
“But I’m here.” Bolton didn’t look impressed by Andra’s explanation. “I’m okay.”
“Shad isn’t, and there’s nothing Nadia can do about it.”
Bolton replaced his oxygen mask, then yanked it down. “Am I supposed to do something about it?”
“She knows you can’t. That’s why she feels helpless. You’re fine now. The only connection she has to Shad is through Dauntless.” Andra smiled. “And I happen to know she really does have to let the dog out.”
Bolton’s mouth worked behind the mask.
Frannie looked at Matthias and saw his eyes were on her. She mouthed, What? But he shook his head.
John folded his arms. “Bolton can figure out how to get Nadia Marie to sit still long enough for him to court her later—”
“Who said anything about courting?”
Bolton’s words were met with immediate motion from John, and Matthias. Before either man could respond, Andra said, “You go after my girl with anything less than that level of respect and I’ll bury you where your cows do their business.”
Bolton’s eyes flicked to her. He looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or be concerned because she was serious. The surprise dissipated, and he nodded. “Understood.” He turned to John. “So how are we going to catch Father Wilson?”
“It’s not like there are limitless places to hide, and he can’t run.” Andra shrugged. “It’s only a matter of time before someone spots him and we bring him in.”
John said, “Hal and the guys called a meeting with the general. They’re going to organize teams to search the town and walk the paths. Those who are able will be part of teams hiking the less-accessible areas of the forest. But I’d rather he didn’t face down someone with no training who is just going to get hurt.”
“He doesn’t have any Einetine left.” They all turned their attention to her. Frannie felt her cheeks heat. She cleared her throat. “He’s done the damage he wanted, even if it didn’t work because we got the word out quick enough.”
John nodded. “We have to ride that out, and Dan is heading up the team that’s cleaning out the water supply, getting it all filtered so it’s clear of the poison. I already called Grant with Dan’s list of what he needs to do the job all the way, and fast. So we’re on top of that, even while it’s being worked on.” John paused a beat. “But it only means Father Wilson has nothing to lose now, which makes him all the more dangerous. And off his plan.”
Bolton lowered his mask. “So do we wait, or do we devise a plan to draw him out?”
“Draw him out.”
“Draw him out.”
John and Andra looked at each other, sharing a smile which made Frannie’s cheeks heat again. Matthias reached out then and touched her fingers with his. She looked at him, and he reached up to pull the mask down.
“You have to leave that on.” She wanted to stand, to move to him, but his grip on her hand held her still.
“He didn’t intend to kill us. We
walked in the room.”
Bolton turned to look at Matthias. Out of the corner of her eye, Frannie saw him studying his friend.
“I don’t want to talk about that.” The fact he’d nearly died was too fresh in her mind. Matthias was trying to say something, but Frannie wanted him to rest. “I don’t know what you want, but I don’t want Father Wilson anywhere near you.”
“He won’t be.”
Frannie shook her head, but it was John who walked over and said, “What’s your plan, Matthias? What are you thinking?”
“Tell him I’m dead.”
Frannie said, “It’s not like we can text him, and there aren’t any carrier pigeon’s in town.” They couldn’t just tell Father Wilson that Matthias was dead.
“Frannie,” Bolton said. “Hear him out.”
“The play.” His gaze bored into her, willing her to understand something she couldn’t grasp. “Tell everyone I’m dead.” He looked at John. “Have Nigel put it in the newspaper that I died.”
Frannie got up from the bed and took two steps back. He was talking about the very same thing she’d been considering earlier. Only she hadn’t been able to figure out how it would work.
Frannie pushed aside the fatigue, and the aches and pains, and rubbed her temples, trying to figure this out. “So Nigel puts it in the newspaper. Then what, we have a funeral? What are you going to tell your mom and your sisters?”
“Nothing.”
“What do you think he’ll do?”
Bolton was the one who said, “Wilson has a thing about headstones. He’ll need to come by the graveyard and see Matthias’s headstone for himself.”
“I don’t like it.” It’d been her idea, originally. The fact he’d had the same idea said only good things about the affinity between them. But just because she’d wanted to pretend to be dead in order to draw out the killer didn’t mean she had to be okay with Matthias doing the same thing. After all, he was lying there still suffering the effects of inhaling Einetine.
Frannie sank into the chair and rubbed her face. “I know why you want to do it, but I’m the one who has to go through the motions. And your family is going to think you’re dead.” She looked at Matthias. “You really want to do that to them?”
Sanctuary Buried WITSEC Town Series Book 2 Page 27
