He’s coming, Dillon, he’s coming! He’s going to know and he’ll kill Mama—
No, he won’t. Look up now, Autumn. That’s right. Everything is fine. Go wash your hands in the sink. Keep washing until he comes in and sees you. You went to the bathroom, okay? You’re fine, sweetheart. Go.
53
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER when Savich and Sherlock walked to his Porsche, he heard his boy singing at the top of his lungs in an off-key duet with his grandmother. It was recognizable—Bobby Darrin’s “Beyond the Sea,” the closing song to one of Sean’s favorite movies, Finding Nemo. Even though he was hyped, nearly running, Savich turned back and smiled when he heard Felix’s baritone join in.
His Porsche roared to life. He was backing into the street when Céline sang out “Nature Boy.”
He said into his cell, “Savich here.”
“Ollie here, Savich. Lizard’s Hideaway is in Tennessee, thirty miles from Chattanooga, right off Highway Seventy-five. What do you want to do?”
Good question. “It’s too dangerous to send a fleet of local cops to the motel; they might end up shooting each other or Autumn. I think Blessed is driving home to Bricker’s Bowl.” Savich knew he was the best person to bring Blessed down.
He said, “Ollie, how about you get some agents from the Chattanooga field office, have them follow Blessed but emphasize they’re not to be seen, and they’re not to try to take him down. Okay?”
“You got it. Now about the car they’re in—”
“A white van; I don’t know the license plate number.”
Ollie was silent. “Okay, we’ll get the highway patrol involved. When we identify the van, we’ll have agents follow them.”
“Good. Call me as soon as they’re spotted. I want to know where they are all the time, okay?”
“Not a problem.” Savich heard Ollie draw in a deep breath. He knew it was about Lissy and Victor, and he knew he wasn’t going to like what Ollie said.
“I’ve got an update on Victor and Lissy. Dane called to tell me a resident living three blocks from Arlington National Cemetery phoned 911 about a hysterical neighbor boy who’d run over to her house shouting that his parents were bleeding all over the kitchen floor.
“The dad will survive, but the mother is iffy, headed for surgery. Of course their car was gone, a red 2007 Chevy Cobalt. The little boy said the car is real pretty and shiny. His mother calls it Honeypot.” Ollie’s voice broke. “This shouldn’t have happened, dammit. We’re going to get them, Savich.”
“Thank you, Ollie. At least we have the description and the license plate. Keep in touch.” And Savich punched off his cell and told Sherlock what had happened.
“Honeypot,” she said, shaking her head. “Thank God that little boy isn’t going to be an orphan. Thank God Lissy didn’t try to murder him too. But his mother Dillon, I can’t stand it.”
Savich thought it made more sense the child had been upstairs and Lissy simply hadn’t known he was there. He didn’t credit her with a crumb of conscience. He found himself praying for the mother to survive.
He said, “Lissy and Victor aren’t going to give up, Sherlock.” His fist hit the steering wheel. “It’s my fault, that family is all my fault, no one else’s.” And he knew in that moment he had to make one of the most difficult decisions he’d ever have to make, but not right now. Now there was nothing to do but wait.
Four hours later, Céline sang out “Nature Boy” again.
Savich and Sherlock were in the CAU on the fifth floor at the Hoover Building. When Savich punched off, he said to Sherlock, “That was Agent Cully Gwyn. Lissy was spotted at a Kmart north of Winnett, North Carolina. He and Agent Bernie Benton are covering Victor’s apartment building in Winnett. He wants to know what I want him to do.”
“You know what to do,” Sherlock said.
And Savich made his decision.
54
WHEN ETHAN WOKE UP, for one terrifying moment he didn’t know who he was. He only knew he wasn’t where he had been, and he was now someplace different, someplace he didn’t recognize.
Memory flooded back. He was Ethan Merriweather, and he’d been—away. He felt a spurt of fear, then forced himself to think, to remember. He had a rip-roaring headache, and it pounded so hard it was difficult to focus, but he did, and he remembered. He saw himself at the campsite in Titus Hitch Wilderness, remembered whirling about, bringing his Remington up fast to shoot Blessed but not fast enough. Blessed had gotten to him. How much time had passed? What had Blessed made him do? Something inside him didn’t want to know.
He saw sunlight coming around the edges of the draperies. That meant it was daylight, but how late? He knew he’d slept and awakened back into himself. So what did that mean? Blessed couldn’t hold him beyond a certain number of hours? Sleeping broke the hypnosis, or whatever it was?
Joanna and Autumn. They had to be all right if he was; surely he wouldn’t have hurt Joanna, but he could have. Blessed could have told him to do anything and he’d have done it as fast as he could and to the best of his ability. Even murder. It was in that moment he realized he was tied to a chair, his hands behind his back, nearly numb. He tested the knots. They were solid. He gritted his teeth against the pain in his head and studied the room.
Cheap dresser, ugly brown draperies, threadbare and dirty, covering a set of skinny windows. The brown-painted door looked like a kid could shove it open. It smelled like air freshener. A motel. He was in a cheap motel. Where?
He heard slow, even breathing behind him. At first he didn’t understand—it was Joanna and she was probably tied to the chair behind him, still sleeping or unconscious.
“Joanna?”
No answer. He worked his hands more but the knots held.
He heard a movement off to his left, turned his head quickly, and nearly groaned with the slicing pain in his head. Blessed stood not six feet from him. He looked taller than Ethan remembered when he’d been propped against the wall in his guest bedroom, a bullet wound in his shoulder, his mad eyes blindfolded to protect anyone who looked at him. Ethan froze, quickly looked down.
“You’re awake, are you? No, I won’t stymie you, but I could, real fast, you know that.”
“Ethan!” Autumn ran to him and threw herself against his chest. “You’re awake. Are you back again, Ethan?”
“Yes, sweetheart, I’m back.”
“But maybe not for long, Sheriff,” Blessed said.
Ethan said quickly, “Where are we?”
“You’re in a lovely motel tied to a chair. The woman is tied to the chair behind you. She’s still asleep. Don’t worry about her; she’ll come out of it when she’s ready to. It’s interesting that you woke up first. Usually women wake up faster. Grace always says—” Blessed broke off, swallowed once, then again. He rubbed his shoulder where Savich had shot him.
Ethan said, “You need to get that bandage changed, Blessed, or you might die of gangrene. It still hurts pretty bad, doesn’t it? And how about your arm where Joanna shot you?”
“I’ll be a lot better than you’ll be when this is all over.”
“I saw him take lots of aspirin,” Autumn said.
Blessed walked to Joanna, slapped her face lightly. “Come on, you bitch, face me.”
Autumn jumped back from Ethan and hurled herself at Blessed. “Don’t you dare call my mama a bitch! My mama isn’t a bitch. And don’t you hit her again, you hear me? You’re a monster, you’re crazy. Leave Ethan alone. Leave my mama alone!”
“Now, now, Autumn, child, calm down.” Blessed’s voice had gone all low and soothing, but that sounded bizarre to Ethan, and evidently to Autumn too. Ethan could hear her hitting him, hear her panting, then Blessed must have grabbed her. “Calm down, Autumn, or I’ll stymie the sheriff right now.”
Silence.
He heard her fierce little voice: “Don’t you stymie him again! Don’t, or I’ll run away from you, I’ll hide, and you’ll never find me.”
“I can always find you.”
“Then I’ll go hide in another place and then another and another until you’re dead. You’re old, you’ll die soon. Don’t you dare stymie Ethan again!”
More silence, then Blessed said, “All I have to do is tie you up, little girl. Don’t threaten me.”
Ethan twisted about in the chair so he could see them. There was fear in Autumn’s voice, and rage, and hysteria, building. She started to hyperventilate, and then she was crying, ugly, tearing sobs.
Blessed wasn’t deaf; he heard it too. Ethan heard the desperation in his voice as Blessed said, “Stop breathing so hard, stop it. And stop crying.”
Autumn cried harder.
“Oh, all right, all right. If the sheriff doesn’t try to do anything stupid, I’ll let him be, but only as long as you do what I tell you to do.”
Autumn stopped crying. She started to hiccup.
“Do you promise?”
“Yes, I promise. But you better keep your word or I’ll run and hide from you.” Ethan knew a hysterical child was the last thing Blessed needed. Autumn hiccupped again, but it sounded—it sounded like a fake hiccup to him. Despite the blasting pain in his head, Ethan smiled. She was an incredible kid.
“Sheriff?”
It was Blessed, and he was standing just off to Ethan’s right side. “Your head hurt?”
“Yeah.”
“Get him some aspirin, Blessed.”
“Let him suffer, I don’t have—”
Autumn did it again, the too-fast breathing, a single pathetic hiccup, and Blessed sighed. “All right, Autumn. You just stay still, all right?”
“I won’t move,” she said to Blessed. She stroked Ethan’s hand.
The kid was playing him. Good. She wound her skinny arms around Ethan’s neck, and he whispered against her cheek, “You’re on a roll, kiddo, but be careful, all right? Blessed isn’t stupid.”
He felt her nod. When Blessed came back, she straightened and said, “You’ve got to untie him so he can take the aspirin.”
Ethan groaned. Unlike Autumn, he wasn’t faking.
He felt the pull of Blessed’s fingers as he worked the knots at his wrists. Soon they fell away, not that it mattered much since he couldn’t feel his hands. Ethan slowly brought his arms in front of him and began rubbing his hands together, then shaking them. Slowly, they started to tingle and he began to feel them again. His fingers throbbed and ached, but it didn’t bother him all that much because his head was about to explode.
“Don’t even think about coming after me, Sheriff. I won’t let you live next time. Here’s your aspirin.”
Come after him? As if he could, since his feet were tied. Ethan took the aspirin and dry-swallowed them. He looked at his watch. Eleven o’clock in the morning. But what morning?
“What day is it?”
“Thursday.”
Okay, good. He’d slept a few hours at most. He closed his eyes and sat very still, waited for the aspirin to do something good.
Autumn said, “I want you to untie my mama too.”
A beat of silence, then Blessed’s voice, irritated now: “No, the bitch stays—”
Autumn screamed at him, “My mama’s not a bitch! Don’t you dare call her that, ever again!” She sounded wild and out of control. She flew at him, hitting him again and again. Ethan heard Blessed curse under his breath, heard him say, “All right all right, I’ll untie her. Calm down, stop acting crazy, you hear me?”
Acting crazy?
Autumn sobbed again, whispering through her tears, “Untie my mama.”
Ethan thought the kid should be in the movies.
Blessed tried to sound tough, but he fell short to Ethan’s ears. “Maybe I will, but if she tries anything, she goes away again. I mean it.”
“Just untie her.”
He heard Joanna moan.
“Don’t you stymie her, Blessed!”
Ethan said, his eyes still closed, “Get her some aspirin, Blessed; she’ll need it bad.”
A minute later, Autumn said, “Here, Mama, here’s some aspirin. I got you some water so you don’t have to choke them down like poor Ethan.”
Joanna let her put the aspirin in her mouth and the glass to her lips.
“Untie her, Blessed.”
Blessed, looking harassed, untied her hands.
“Mama, let me rub your hands for you. That’s better, isn’t it? Ethan? Are you feeling better yet?”
“Yes,” he said, and surprisingly, he was. “Joanna?”
“I’m here, Ethan.” Ethan felt the chair move, and knew Joanna had picked Autumn up and was rocking her.
He heard Blessed walking toward him. He didn’t look up, which was stupid, really. He looked down at Blessed’s boots. He had small feet for a man. Ethan said, “Your boots are dirty, Blessed.”
“Yeah? Well, you should see yourself, Sheriff, and the—woman.”
Ethan knew Autumn was opening her mouth to blast him. Blessed had made a fast save. Ethan said, “What happens now, Blessed?”
55
“WE’LL BE ON OUR way when you and the woman can walk out of here.”
“Where are we going?”
A pause, then, “We’re going someplace else, Sheriff, a very special place where Autumn will be safe, and then we’ll wait for Mama.”
Wait for his mama? But Ethan wasn’t sure she’d come—Savich had told him he was dealing with Shepherd Backman. He’d have given a great deal at the moment to know what Savich had done with the old lady.
Joanna asked, “And where would that be?”
“Shut your mouth, woman, it’s none of your business. Autumn, you get off her lap now, it’s time to leave.”
“I have to go to the bathroom,” Joanna said.
“I do too,” Ethan said.
“All right, but make it fast. Anything funny and you’re both gone again.”
In ten minutes they were back on the road, Ethan driving. “We’re on Highway Seventy-five,” he said. “I think it turns into Highway Eighty-one past Chattanooga. Where are we—?”
“You just keep driving, boy, and keep your mouth shut. I’ll tell you where to go.”
He decided not to push it. The pain in his head was only a dull throb. He looked over at Joanna next to him in the front seat. He knew she was still in some pain because she was sitting very still, staring straight ahead, her hands clasped tightly together. He reached out, pulled a hand free, and squeezed. After a moment, she squeezed his hand back. He still held her hand when they crossed into Georgia.
Ethan steeled himself to look into the rearview mirror, afraid he’d meet Blessed’s eyes, but he did look. They were damned creepy eyes. He met Ethan’s gaze. Blessed smiled. Nothing happened. Maybe Blessed wouldn’t stymie him now, because if he did, Ethan just might wreck the van. Something to think about. He said, “Autumn, are you all right?”
“Of course she’s all right. She’s asleep,” Blessed said. “Shut up and drive or you and the bitch are no good to me at all.”
Ethan said mildly, “You’ve got to be careful, Blessed, about what you call Joanna. Autumn could wake up at any time. I wonder what she’d do this time?”
“She’ll do what I tell her to do. You’ll see, she’ll come to love and respect her family, as we will love her. There’s so much waiting for her, a lovely surprise for her too. Now be quiet, Sheriff.”
“I was just going to thank you for the Egg McMuffin and coffee back in Chattanooga.”
Blessed grunted. “I didn’t want my niece to be hungry. It took you long enough to eat it. Don’t speak to me again.”
Ethan knew the only reason he and Joanna were still alive was that Autumn wouldn’t do what Blessed told her to. What was he talking about—a lovely surprise for Autumn? Ethan didn’t think it would be a good idea to ask.
It was two hours before Blessed spoke again. “Turn here, Sheriff.”
Ethan turned off the highway into the middle of nowhere. He continued driving some twenty more miles on an old two-lane country road. Traf
fic was light, just a couple of pickups and a Volkswagen, only a couple of houses every mile, mostly old split-level houses set way back from the road, separated by thickets of trees.
Blessed finally directed Ethan to turn again onto a narrow one-lane dirt road that looked more like a wide rutted path, and then told him to head toward a dense clump of pine, maple, and oak trees.
Ethan had believed he’d known where they were going, but he’d been wrong. He said, “So we’re not going to the tobacco farm?”
Ethan saw the look of surprise on Blessed’s face, but he recovered quickly. “What do you know about any of that?”
“I know quite a bit about the Children of Twilight. So does the FBI.” Well, he didn’t know that much, Savich hadn’t had a chance to tell him more, but Blessed didn’t know that. “I know the cult is housed on an old flue-cured tobacco farm.” Ethan stopped, not wanting Blessed to know everything he knew, which wasn’t much. “Well, Blessed, that isn’t where we’re going?”
“No, we’re not going there, we’re…Shut up, Sheriff, and keep driving.”
“Hey, I was wondering, do many people contact you through your website? Is that how you get members? Are there Children of Twilight branches in Europe? How about Transylvania?”
He heard Blessed cursing under his breath, heard Savich’s name, and smiled.
“You shut up now, Sheriff, or I’ll stymie you, you hear me? Autumn’s asleep, she won’t know.”
“While I’m driving? Won’t I run us right off the road if you stymie me? Autumn might get hurt. Best not take the chance, Blessed.”
Blessed said, “Stop your mouth, Sheriff. Slow down ahead, the road’s pretty rough.”
The road was soon filled with rocks and potholes, and patches of mud with tire tracks weaving in and out of them. Maples, pines, and oaks pressed in from both sides, a vivid green canopy so close the van scraped against the tree branches. The road wound upward, meandering from right to left and back again, always climbing.
He braked when they came to an old weathered black iron gate across the road, two large wooden poles holding it in place. Trees were thick on each side, so there was no going around the gate. Where were they?
KnockOut Page 25
