The Treasure Box (The Grace Series Book 2)

by Mark Romang

  “You did well tonight, Josiah. Your heart softened when it counted the most. And now it’s time for you to meet your king and to receive your reward,” the angel said. And then they entered the spiritual portal and headed for heaven, leaving earth behind.

  Chapter 34

  Inside the VFW hall, volunteers picked up folding chairs and placed them in wheeled carriers. Other volunteers picked up trash and balloons and helped the custodial staff spruce up the place.

  The presidential candidates had long ago climbed aboard their campaign buses and moved on to the next campaign stop, and the audience had also filed out, no doubt their opinions generally unchanged by anything spoken during the debate.

  Newton Laskey pulled out his cellphone. He needed to call his wife and tell her he was on his way, and that he’d be home in forty-five minutes to an hour.

  His longsuffering wife was a gem. She’d put up with his crazy working hours for way too long. She kept bugging him to take some time off and go on a vacation with her. She wanted to see Europe. He supposed he should relent. Their anniversary was coming up soon anyway. Maybe I should surprise her and buy some plane tickets, he thought.

  The FBI boss started to punch in his home number, but stopped when he felt a tug on his sleeve. He turned and saw Otis Grant, one of his special agents. The troubled look on Grant’s face told him his night just took a detour. “Is there something the matter, Otis?”

  Grant nodded solemnly. “I overheard one of the deputies talking. A Copeland Police officer has been shot.”

  “That’s terrible. Is he going to make it?”

  Grant balled his fists. His muscular shoulders strained at his suit jacket. “He died calling for backup. And it gets worse, Newt. The shooting was at the Whitcomb Bed and Breakfast Inn. That’s where Annie lives with her husband. The cop said there were hostages inside when he called dispatch.”

  “Let me guess, Annie is a hostage. She has a knack for getting kidnapped.”

  “We should go over there, Newt. I miss Annie. The pretty lady has moxie. Besides, the Copeland Police force is a two man operation—the chief and one other officer. They’re down to only the chief now. They could use our help.”

  Laskey scowled. “The Iberville Parish Sheriff’s Department will be running the show now.”

  “We’ve worked with Lester Tubbs before,” Grant said.

  Laskey pursed his lips. “Sheriff Tubbs is okay, I guess. But if you ask me, Tubbs doesn’t read a crime scene very well.”

  “So are we going or not?” Otis Grant asked, pressing for an answer.

  “Of course we’re going. Annie is still family. Where’s agent Brubaker?”

  “He’s outside smoking.”

  “I thought he kicked the habit.”

  Grant rolled his eyes. “He made it two days. He’s back to chain-smoking.”

  “Well, go round him up and meet me at my car. I’ll drive us over there.”

  Otis Grant turned and jogged for the door. Newton Laskey watched him exit the building. He then finished dialing his wife. He hated to tell her she would have to sleep alone again tonight. He’d promised her he’d be home at a reasonable hour tonight. Once more she would think he was only lying to her. Laskey shook his head. Sometimes I hate this job.

  ****

  Arcadias and Damien stood inside the kitchen pantry and looked at the cement wall. Puzzlement soured their faces.

  “Someone sure went to a lot of trouble to hide the treasure,” Damien said.

  Arcadias rapped a fist gently against the cement. “Is this a structure-bearing wall?” If anyone would know it would be Damien. His brother had worked in construction all his life.

  “No, I don’t think so. There’s really no reason for it to be here. Behind it is the servant’s staircase. The wall looks like it’s simply a barricade to me, Arcadias.”

  “It can only mean that the doubloons are stashed behind this wall somewhere.”

  Damien shrugged. “There’s no way to tell for sure without searching back there.”

  “You think if we cut a hole in the ceiling we could climb over the wall?”

  “Yeah, I think we could. We would need a reciprocating saw to do it though,” Damien said.

  Arcadias smiled craftily. “I brought one. It’s up in the Rose bedroom. We have to be careful with the cutting blade though. I don’t have a spare blade to switch it out.”

  Damien looked at Arcadias. “Cutting a hole big enough for us to climb through is going to take at least an hour, valuable time we could use to get away. We’re going to screw around and get trapped in this house.”

  “I don’t want to go to prison any more than you do, Damien. But no one knows for sure what is going on inside this house. Neither you nor I have criminal records. If the police show up they’re not going to know who to suspect. So let’s cut a hole in the ceiling and find what we came here for.”

  Their two-way radios suddenly crackled to life. Iris’s shrill voice cut through the static. “Police are here! I see several cars parked out front. Their lights are flashing.”

  Arcadias brought his radio up to his mouth. “I’ll be there in a second, Iris.” He placed a hand on Damien’s shoulder, gripped it tightly. “Remember, the police don’t know who the perpetrators are. We don’t need to panic just yet. But we do need to get behind this cement wall. So fetch the saw and start the demolition.”

  Chapter 35

  Newton Laskey pulled his government-issued Grand Marquis to the side of the long driveway, parking it an out-of-the-way spot between two magnolia trees. He and his two agents climbed out from the car. Red and blue lights flashed from multiple vehicles parked in the circle drive and cast strobes into the sky and trees.

  A deputy trotted up to them. He shined a flashlight directly into their faces. “This is an ongoing crime scene, gentlemen. You’re going to have to leave. We have a violent hostage taker inside the house. He’s already killed one person. Please clear out.”

  “Deputy, we’re from the FBI. Can you please tell Lester Tubbs that Newton Laskey is here with two special agents? We’re here to help if Sheriff Tubbs will have us.”

  “I’ll need to see some identification,” the deputy said.

  Laskey pulled out his wallet badge from a pocket inside his suit coat. Agents Brubaker and Grant followed his lead and produced their FBI badges. The deputy dutifully studied the badges and corresponding ID cards for several moments. He finally handed their identification back to them. “You just happened to be in the neighborhood and popped in?”

  “We were working the town hall debate in town. A stalker to one of the candidates was thought to be in attendance. After the debate we heard about a policeman being shot and killed at this address. Since we were so close we headed over,” Laskey explained.

  “Wait here. I’ll pass along your request to the sheriff.”

  “Thank you, Deputy,” Laskey said. His gaze fell on the plantation house. The extraordinary home looked too genteel to host a crime spree. In Laskey’s experience domestic violence commonly occurs in rundown homes in impoverished neighborhoods. But there were exceptions. Human emotions fueled by alcohol and drugs could trigger violence anywhere, even in affluent homes.

  But this crime scene couldn’t be pigeon-holed by stereotypes and law of averages. Something different is happening here, Laskey thought, something more sinister than a marital disagreement.

  “What kind of madness do you think is going on in there, Newt?”

  Laskey turned and looked at agent Brubaker. “I don’t know, Kevin. But I intend to find out.”

  The deputy returned to them moments later. “Sheriff Tubbs welcomes your help. Follow me, gentlemen. I’ll take you to him.”

  Laskey followed the Iberville Parish deputy toward the house and the cadre of law enforcement officers huddled behind an extended cab pickup truck. Agent Grant and agent Brubaker trailed close behind Laskey like sons shadowing their father.

  Sheriff Tubbs saw Laskey and his men appr
oach and broke away from the others to meet him. “Serendipity must’ve brought you here, Newton. I don’t remember calling your office,” Tubbs drawled in his trademark southern twang.

  Laskey did a double-take when he heard Lester Tubbs use the word “serendipity.” The big word sounded odd coming from the portly lawman’s lips. “Serendipity, luck, or fate, whatever you want to call it, we’re here to help any way we can, Sheriff.”

  “I accept your help, Newton. But we need to stop meeting like this. Wasn’t it a little over three years ago when we worked a case involving Jon and Annie Rafter?”

  “It does seem like déjà vu. But Annie wasn’t married to Jon then,” Laskey said as he looked over the small assembly of lawmen that included deputies and detectives from the sheriff’s office and the police chief of Copeland, as well as two U.S. Marshals. “I do wish Jon and Annie didn’t feel obligated to rid Louisiana of all her worst criminals,” Laskey added.

  “We’re not sure who the perpetrator is, Newton. At this point everyone in the house is a suspect. But my gut tells me it’s Jon Rafter,” Tubbs declared. A wad of chewing tobacco big enough to make any MLB player envious, hid behind his lower lip.

  Laskey fought the urge to roll his eyes. “What points you toward Jon as the shooter and hostage taker?”

  Tubbs sighed and directed his gaze toward the plantation house. “It just rubs me the wrong way that Jon shot and killed two members of the Boudreaux clan awhile back. And then he promptly gets put into witness protection and never gets charged with anything. He’s a violent man. And he’s capable of killing again.”

  “If Rafter didn’t shoot the Boudreauxs, Gabby Witherspoon and Annie would’ve drowned in the storm surge. They wouldn’t be here today. You know that, Sheriff,” Laskey said firmly. “Jon Rafter is the most virtuous man I know. He would never do anything like this. And he was put into witness protection for something that happened to him in New York, when he was a policeman. It didn’t have anything to do with the Boudreauxs.”

  Special Agent Otis Grant piped in. “I worked with Annie for three years, Sheriff. No one has a nose for spotting a shady character like Annie. She would never marry a man with a criminal bent.”

  Tubbs shrugged his fat shoulders and sighed dismissively. He spat tobacco juice onto the ground and looked at Laskey. “This case shapes up to be a classic example of domestic violence. Only in this case it turned deadly,” he said. “I know you think Rafter is a stand-up guy, but you’ve worked law enforcement for almost as long as me, Newton. So you must know there is a dark river that runs through the heart of every man, woman, and child. Most of the time we’re able to keep the dark river inside its banks, but every so often in a moment of weakness a person will snap, and the dark river overflows its banks. And then, like now, we have a tragedy to deal with.”

  Laskey fought to remain calm. Although Tubbs’s statements about a dark river were profound, it didn’t change the fact that Tubbs was a buffoon. Laskey would never figure out how the man continued to get reelected. “Do we know who all is in the house? Has the hostage taker made any demands? Do we have a SWAT team on the way?”

  Tubbs nodded. “A SWAT team from Bedford is headed in this direction. We haven’t been able to contact anyone on the inside by phone. But we do have a handle on who might be inside.”

  “Good, how many people total are inside the house?”

  “Six that we’re certain of, but there could be more.”

  Laskey nodded approvingly. “I’d like to have a list of names, Sheriff.”

  “Newton, I agreed to have you help me out, not to take over the case.”

  “Point taken, Sheriff, I’ll hang in the background. But if one of your detectives could fill me in with pertinent details, I would appreciate it.”

  “Sure thing, Newton,” Tubbs said. He placed a meaty hand on plain-clothed man standing nearby. “Detective Casey here will tell you everything you want to know. Won’t you, Jack?”

  Chapter 36

  Josiah Barrett opened his eyes. Once he had figured out where in heaven the angel was taking him, Barrett closed them. Barrett now stood on a crystal floor as clear as glass, his position near the white throne, his angel escort standing next to him.

  Angels filled the throne room—some possessing six wings. Eyes covered each wing on these angels, and their fluttering wings sounded like a roaring ocean in Barrett’s ears. Similar to the angels, Barrett saw four strange-looking creatures who also possessed six wings. Eyes covered each creature, front and back. Together, the angels and the four creatures worshipped the man sitting on the throne and sang these words continuously, “Holy, Holy, Holy, is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come.”

  Overwhelmed by the holy scene, Barrett dropped to his knees and elbows and bowed his head.

  “Josiah, don’t be frightened. Condemnation has fled you. You are welcome here,” Jesus said, holding out his hands, hands scarred with a hole in each palm.

  Barrett lifted his eyes and looked at Jesus. White hairs covered his head and chin, matching his shimmering white clothes. “I don’t deserve to be here with you.”

  Jesus smiled. “Of course you belong here, Josiah. I pardoned you. My death on the cross and resurrection commuted your death sentence. And now you are my brother.”

  “I asked you to forgive my sins and allow me to live with you. And that was enough?”

  “My grace is sufficient for you, Josiah. I search all hearts and examine the thoughts of all mankind. I determined your repentance to be pure.”

  Barrett looked at the throne Jesus sat on. The throne matched Jesus’s hair and clothes. The dazzling white throne looked like it was hewn from a giant piece of polished marble. But Barrett could tell that the marble had never been quarried from the ground. Dirt could’ve never touched its unblemished surface. Out of the corner of Barrett’s eye he could see another throne next to the one Jesus sat on. Intense flames engulfed this throne and the one sitting on it. Josiah trembled.

  “Keep your focus on me, Josiah. No one can look at God’s face and live. But when you look at me you see God in the flesh.”

  “I wasted the life you gave me while on earth, Lord. I’m so sorry.”

  Jesus nodded. “You grieved my spirit in many ways, Josiah. But when I walked the earth I also faced temptations. I know how sly and treacherous the enemy is.”

  “I was so blind to you and your love. I could only think of money and how to acquire more and more of it.”

  “I once preached a sermon on this very subject when I lived on earth. One day the crowds were large and pressed in on me. I retreated to a mountainside to be with my Father. On the mountainside I spoke to my disciples. I told them, ‘Do not store up treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.’”

  “I didn’t store up much treasure here. I was so foolish…and selfish.”

  “But your last act on earth was a noble one. You finally learned how to serve others. Well done, Josiah, my good and faithful servant.”

  “I will serve you forever, Lord.”

  Jesus left the white throne and knelt down by Josiah, taking him in his arms. Barrett leaned into the embrace, reveling in the tenderness that somehow existed alongside infinite power.

  “Thank you for allowing me to see the angel. I wouldn’t have believed in you and your kingdom had you not,” Barrett said. “And I would be lost now.”

  “You believe because you have seen me. Blessed are those who believe without seeing me.” Jesus helped him stand up. “There is someone who longs to see you. Enjoy your reunion, Josiah.”

  Barrett followed Jesus’s gaze. He saw his mother, holding out her arms to him. Her mahogany skin glowed. Barrett rushed over to her. “You look amazing, Mama. You’re young again!”

  Susan Barrett laughed. “I’m not youn
g, I’m ageless. And you don’t look so bad yourself, Josiah. You look even better than you did in your early twenties.”

  Barrett realized then that he felt different. He felt…powerful. And not only strong but energetic. He patted his sides and stomach and started laughing. “I do look good. I’m not chubby anymore.”

  “I never stopped praying for you, son. Even up here I kept asking Jesus to soften your heart and make it receptive to his love and forgiveness.”

  “I was such an awful person down there, Mama. I’m grateful that you never stopped praying for me.”

  They started walking. And before Barrett knew it they strolled along a country path that cut through a lush meadow dotted with flowers. They came to a beautiful home tucked in the trees. “This is where I live, Josiah.”

  “It’s beautiful, and big.”

  Susan Barrett nodded. “And your house is just down the lane from mine.”

  “Oh, Mama, I barely made it into heaven. I’m not going to have a mansion like yours. I’ll sleep in the golden streets. I don’t mind. Just living here with you and Jesus is enough.”

  “Nonsense, Josiah. I watched Jesus build it. He’s a master carpenter, you know. Granted, your house isn’t as large as mine. But it’s still grander than any palace on earth. Come on, I’ll take you to it.”

  Chapter 37

  With his hands and feet securely tied up, Jon Rafter could only use his eyes to aid his cause. His hazel eyes flitted about the parlor, resting briefly on objects he might be able to use as weapons, provided he could ever bust out from the plastic flex cuffs.

  The obvious weapons were the antique fireplace tools sitting on the hearth. The poker would do the most damage in close-quarters fighting. He could stab, poke, or strike with it. Rafter found his glances returning to it often. There was also a nearby bookcase filled with hardcover novels. Serious damage could be done to a cranium with a well-placed strike from a thick book.