The Treasure Box (The Grace Series Book 2)

by Mark Romang

  Or maybe Damien thought they might pull off the unexpected and circle back into the kitchen for the back door. He could be waiting to ambush them just around the corner.

  Annie looked at him expectantly. She awaited his lead. He sucked in a deep breath and headed back toward the kitchen. Annie followed him closely.

  Rafter crept on the balls of his shoeless feet. He was sure Annie did the same. He couldn’t hear her at all over his thudding heart, but knew she shadowed him.

  Rafter rounded the corner and collided into Damien. He nearly cried out in surprise, but quickly recovered when Damien lifted his Taurus handgun and aimed it at him. Rafter squeezed the trigger on the fire extinguisher, aiming the nozzle at Damien’s face.

  Damien’s eyes grew large just before a thick cloud of fire-squelching propellant enveloped him. Damien doubled over and started coughing. Rafter lifted the half-empty can up even with his shoulders and prepared to deliver a knockout blow.

  It’s been a widely held opinion that an upward blow to the nose can drive a broken septum into the brain, killing a person. But most experts debunk the myth, stating it as impossible or highly unlikely such a blow could take a life. Rafter didn’t want to test the theory and instead aimed for Damien’s mouth. The fire extinguisher came down like an axe.

  The bottom edge of the fire extinguisher can caromed off Damien’s lips. The sound of metal striking flesh filled the room. Damien’s front teeth spewed out his mouth and clattered to the hardwood floor like dropped marbles.

  Damien made a gargling sound just before crashing into a heap on the floor. One look told Rafter the younger Charbonneau was out cold.

  “Nice shot, honey. Don’t feel bad about his teeth. They were already messed up,” Annie said, smiling at him.

  Rafter nodded weakly, his body already coming down from an adrenaline spike. “Let’s get out of this nightmare while we can.”

  Chapter 53

  “You’re not going anywhere, Jon. And neither is you’re wife,” Arcadias said, appearing from out of nowhere. For the third time this evening he held a gun to Annie’s head.

  Arcadias glanced down at his unconscious brother; then his callous gaze shifted to Rafter. “You could’ve killed Damien. You’re not as upstanding and holy as you pretend to be.”

  “I’m a man of many sins. But God has forgiven each one. And he can forgive all yours too, Arcadias, including what you’re doing now.”

  Arcadias looked at Rafter disbelievingly. “Now isn’t a good time to try and convert me. Any chance at redemption for me has long ago expired.”

  “As long as you’re breathing it’s never too late to experience God’s forgiveness,” Rafter said. “In fact, I’ve been praying for you off and on all night, Arcadias. I think deep down at your core you’re a good man. But the enemy has blinded you with this treasure obsession. Starting now, however, you can change all that. You can make a new beginning.”

  Arcadias shook his head stubbornly. His gray eyes couldn’t hide his madness. “I need you to tell me how you escaped the attic.”

  “Don’t tell him anything, Jon. Make him figure it out on his own,” Annie said.

  Rafter quickly weighed his options. If someone else were in his shoes he would tell them to give Arcadias the information he wanted. Without question it remained the only safe move. But he hesitated for some unexplainable reason.

  Heavy silence filled the small corridor, broken up only by the sound of Iris crying. Her sobs carried all the way from the parlor. For whatever reason, she hadn’t left the house yet. Perhaps the SWAT team frightened her too much to go outside, or maybe she couldn’t bear the thought of giving up on the man she loved.

  “Fine, we’ll go on a little trip upstairs then, just us three. You won’t have to tell me how to depart the attic; you can simply demonstrate to me how you escaped,” Arcadias said. He backed up a few feet, but still kept his Glock trained on Annie. “Come here, Jon. Get behind Annie. If you try any heroics I’ll shoot right through you and into Annie.”

  Rafter took four steps toward Annie and moved in behind her.

  “Excellent. Now let’s walk single-file to the attic.”

  Arcadias nudged Rafter in the back with his Glock. Rafter moved out and followed Annie. He stared at her back as he walked. And then he remembered the one object that could even the odds a bit. Why he had forgotten such an important thing, he didn’t know. But he suddenly remembered the derringer hidden somewhere on Annie.

  He had to somehow get his hands on the small handgun. An idea rolled around in his head on how to go about it. But the idea depended on the derringer being concealed in the small of her back. Rafter slowed his gait, baiting Arcadias.

  “You’re stalling, Jon. Pick up your pace,” Arcadias said, and then shoved at Rafter’s back.

  Rafter stumbled forward, bumping into Annie. He maneuvered his hands under her t-shirt. Annie figured out at once what he attempted to do and shortened her stride. Rafter felt the wooden grip of the Philadelphia derringer. He pulled at the grip and the small gun slid out of Annie’s waistband and into his bound hands. The transfer took three seconds at the most.

  Rafter manipulated his hands until his left palm cocked the hammer back. And then he whirled around and pointed the gun at Arcadias’s chest. “Stay behind me, Annie,” he commanded.

  “Well, what a surprise, Jon. You hold a Philadelphia derringer in your hands. And it looks like an original, not a reproduction. The Philadelphia derringer found fame when John Wilkes Booth shot President Lincoln with one. But if you ask me, it’s not much of a weapon. Although widely copied by other gun makers, the Philadelphia derringer is highly inaccurate, and depending upon how much powder you use, not very powerful.”

  “From this range I can’t miss. And we’ll see how far the lead ball penetrates your brain.”

  Arcadias grinned, a sneer belonging only on a lunatic. “But you’re aiming at my chest.”

  Rafter nodded. “The derringer is known to shoot high. By aiming at your chest, the .44 caliber ball should enter your forehead right between your eyes.”

  “You’ll notice, Jon, that I’m aiming my highly reliable and accurate Glock at your chest. If I was a betting man I would wager my Glock will get the job done over your antique pistol. I’m also using full metal jacket rounds. These rounds will go right through your chest and into Annie. I could kill you both with one shot. So drop the derringer to the floor and proceed to the attic.”

  Rafter didn’t budge.

  “I’m not bluffing, Jon.”

  “Neither am I,” Rafter said, and pulled the trigger.

  But the little gun didn’t fire. The derringer did nothing at all. Rafter didn’t understand. He knew the gun was loaded. He checked it in the attic, saw the lead ball shoved down inside the barrel. And then he realized the problem. The last step in the arduous procedure of arming a muzzleloader hadn’t been done. There wasn’t a percussion cap on the nipple, a mistake likely to cost him his life, and also Annie’s.

  A haughty smile darkened Arcadias’ sun-bronzed face even more. “I told you a Philadelphia derringer is unreliable. But you wouldn’t listen,” he said, and pulled the trigger.

  Rafter saw the muzzle on the Glock turn orange as two muzzle flashes exploded out the end. He instantly felt two rounds slam into his chest at point blank range. The bullets jolted him backwards into Annie. His paint shirt went from speckled white to solid crimson. Rafter careened into the wall, striking his head.

  His vision blurred and then failed altogether, and everything faded from gray to the deepest shade of black.

  Chapter 54

  Annie dropped to the floor and poised her face close to her husband’s. “Jon! Please open your eyes,” she sobbed. “Don’t leave me!”

  But she knew it was already too late. Her pleas would never convince Jon’s soul to reenter his lifeless body. Wanting to touch him, she dragged her bound hands along his chest. Her trembling hands came away sticky and red.

  Arcadias
leveled his Glock at Annie. “For the final time, Annie, tell me how you escaped the attic.”

  She looked up at her husband’s killer. “Find it yourself!”

  “That isn’t the answer I’m looking for. Do you wish to receive the same fate as your husband?”

  “I would die happy knowing I defied you,” Annie said, dropping her head down onto Jon’s stomach, mindless of the blood soaking his shirt.

  Arcadias took a step forward through the gun smoke, still aiming his Glock at her, his shooting hand rock steady. “Now don’t be hasty, think this over, Annie. You’re about to adopt a baby. You’ve surely dreamed of being a mother for a long time. You need this baby, and this baby needs you.”

  “I don’t want to raise a child without Jon.”

  “I’ll tell you what, Annie; I’m going to give you a little more time to reconsider. I will count to three. If you haven’t told me what I want to know by the time I reach three, I will send you to the afterlife, just like I did Jon. So here we go. One…”

  “I told you I can’t parent a child without Jon. So go ahead and pull the trigger.”

  “Two…”

  “The chimney, we escaped out the chimney,” Rafter gasped.

  Annie jerked her head up. “Jon? You’re alive? I thought…I really thought you died.” Annie bent down and kissed him all over his face and neck. She finally pulled up and looked at him, happy tears streaking her face. A part of her didn’t want to know, but she had to find out. Annie turned her head and saw Arcadias was no longer there. Relieved, she trained her wet eyes back onto Jon “We need to get you to a hospital. You’ve lost so much blood.”

  “I’m fine, Annie. I just hit my head on the wall and passed out for a minute.”

  “But I don’t understand. Arcadias shot you in the chest from point-blank range. And there’s blood all over your shirt.”

  Rafter moved his tied hands up to a chest pocket on his shirt. He fumbled around for a moment and then awkwardly brought out the wood-encased Bible he tried to give to Cameron Ross. He looked the Bible over. There were two entry holes in its cover but no exit holes. The bullets had lodged inside. “This is the best three bucks I’ve ever spent.”

  “Is that the Bible you bought at a garage sale not long ago?”

  “The very same one,” Rafter answered with a weak smile.

  “But isn’t that blood on your shirt? You’re covered in it.”

  Rafter sat up. He reached into the shirt pocket again and pulled out a mangled paint tube. He smiled at Annie. “This Winsor and Newton paint tube used to contain cadmium red oil paint.”

  “Oh, Jon, you scared me so bad. My heart will never be the same. But now I’m so happy. I can hardly believe you’re okay. I thought I was a widow for a minute there.”

  Doors slamming against their hinges ended their moment. Authoritative voices rang out from the foyer and kitchen. “Police! Search and arrest warrants! Hands on your head! No one move!”

  A SWAT officer holding a MP5 entered the corridor and stood by the angel mural. “Are you folks okay? Are you the homeowners?”

  Annie nodded. “Yes to both your questions. But you better check the roof, Officer. Arcadias is escaping through the attic. He’s using the chimney as his exit point.”

  ****

  Josiah Barrett and his mother knelt by the stream flowing through Josiah’s back yard. They peered into a crystalline pool below the falls, looking at an image shining on the water’s calm surface. “Mama, did you see the angel place his wing in front of Jon Rafter right before Arcadias shot his gun? The angel’s wing slowed the bullets’ velocity.”

  “I did, son. The angel also used his wing to deflect the bullets into the Bible in Jon’s shirt pocket. We just watched a miracle take place.”

  Josiah stood up and clapped his hands. “Now I can rest easy knowing the Rafters are okay.”

  “Seeing a miracle like that makes you wonder how often miracles occur on Earth without people even realizing they’re taking place.”

  “I’m sure they happen all the time, Mama. Although they might not always be as dramatic a miracle as mine was, and the one we just witnessed.”

  Susan Barrett got to her feet and placed a hand around Josiah’s shoulder. “Like I said a moment ago, every Christ follower is protected by their own guardian angel. God is always looking out for his children. He never rests. He is always vigilant.”

  “And God is always good.”

  “Yes, Josiah. God is always good. All the time, God is good.”

  “Speaking of God, I would like to see Jesus again. How often can I see him?”

  “As often as you wish. Jesus is always available to his brothers and sisters. And what’s really amazing is that Jesus is omnipresent. He can be everywhere at once. I don’t know how many millions of saints there are in heaven, but the Lord can be with us all at the same time and on an individual basis. You don’t have to wait your turn,” Susan Barrett said.

  Josiah felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and saw Jesus smiling playfully at him.

  “How do you like your home, Josiah?”

  “It’s perfect. I love it.”

  “It gave me great joy building it for you.”

  “Jesus, now that I’m here I want to serve you. Are you going to give me a job to do up here?”

  Jesus put an arm around Josiah. “Let’s walk down to your vineyard and talk about it. Your vineyard grows the tastiest grapes. I often come here to sample the fruit.”

  “I’ll tend the grapes, Lord. And I’ll make wine for you. It will be the finest wine in all of heaven,” Josiah said as they walked toward the vines—heavy with fruit and glistening in golden light.

  Jesus laughed heartily. “They’re table grapes, Josiah. But yes, this will be your job to tend the vineyard for me. You will find satisfaction and purpose growing the grapes. And your faithful service will bring me glory forever.”

  “I’m honored to serve you, Jesus. I’ll work hard in the vineyard to grow grapes worthy of the King of kings.”

  “Just as I accepted your confession of sins, I accept your devotion. And what is mine is yours. You are a co-heir with me, Josiah. And you will even reign with me.”

  “I was once a scoundrel, and now I am like a king?”

  “This is difficult for you to understand, I know. But you have all eternity to figure it out. Your days will never run out.”

  Chapter 55

  Arcadias Charbonneau lay as still as a dead man in the peony bushes. All around him he could hear deputies and SWAT personnel combing the grounds looking for him. Luckily there were no canine units on the scene tracking his scent. Bloodhounds would find him in short order. And yet if he somehow managed to escape the property, he knew the dogs would surely come later.

  As far as he could tell he hid in a good spot. And his dark clothes, smudged with dirt from when he explored the crawlspace, aided his cause. He blended into the darkness well.

  So as Arcadias rested behind the thick peony bushes he plotted his escape. But it wasn’t easy. He found it hard to think. The pain made it difficult to focus his brain. The descent from the roof using the clothesline rope had been terrifying and brutal.

  He’d thumped onto the ground at a fast speed, landing awkwardly on his left foot and twisting his ankle to boot. His left ankle and knee throbbed as rhythmically as his racing pulse.

  As soon as he had stepped off the roof’s edge he heard a snap. The baluster on the widow’s walk that the rope had been tied to snapped under his weight and he’d fallen most of the way.

  The only good part of the stomach-lifting drop was that the rope no longer dangled from the roof and against the wall, begging to be spotted.

  But this advantage would disappear quickly if he didn’t get a move on. His original plan of heading for Costa Rica would have to wait. Leaving the country came in a distant second to escaping the law enforcement buzzing around the plantation grounds.

  My only chance is to head for the swampland borderin
g the property, Arcadias thought. He didn’t look forward to entering the swamps. The odds of surviving very long in the Atchafalaya Basin were bleak for anyone other than a survival expert. Finding drinkable water and evading alligators and poisonous snakes presented a continuous life or death challenge. But he had no choice.

  On the lam in the swamps, fighting to stay alive seemed way better to him than sharing a cell with a reprobate. Besides, there was no chance of making it to his vehicle. There were numerous law enforcement officers standing around it.

  But what Arcadias found most depressing was that he couldn’t access the ten-thousand in cash he had left over from liquidating the gold coins he’d found on Grand Isle beach. He’d stashed the money under a seat in the rental truck. He was now a penniless fugitive.

  Arcadias took in a deep and silent breath, readying himself for action. He couldn’t stay in his tenuous position any longer. It’s time to move, old boy. The swamp is waiting for you.

  ****

  Escorted by the SWAT officer, Jon and Annie walked out the front door of their home. On this surreal night their peaceful life had shattered like glass into a million pieces. And looking around, Annie felt like she’d walked into a Hollywood movie set where she was the lead actress and Jon her leading man.

  The Whitcomb Bed and Breakfast Inn had become a beehive of activity. And it wasn’t the type of activity she welcomed. Their tranquil property had somehow hosted a cop killing.

  Annie blinked her eyes, hoping the madness would go away. But the chaos still remained when she opened them.

  Red and blue lights flashed from atop numerous squad cars parked around the house. Yellow crime scene tape cordoned off a good part of the yard near the drive. The crime scene tape led to a Copeland Police car parked in the drive. The driver-side door hung open on the squad car. A detective stood near the car and shot numerous pictures of the vehicle from every angle, including the interior.