Keeper of the Key

by Barbara Christopher

  “No. If anyone’s to blame it’s Mom and Dad. They’re the ones who didn’t plan things right. If they hadn’t mortgaged the house to the limit I could have saved it for Caleb.”

  Becci collapsed against the counter and shook her head. Had she really said that?

  “Saved it for Caleb?” Lilly shut the dishwasher, started water running into the sink and stared down at the rising mountain of lemon-scented suds. Becci watched her shut off the water. After she dried her hands she tossed the dishtowel over her shoulder, turned and caught Becci’s fingers with her own. “Child, what in the world are you talking about?”

  “Oh, Aunt Lilly, what am I going to do? I love him.”

  “I can’t tell you what to do,” Lilly said. “I can only give you the same advice my father gave me years ago. He told me I had to choose between being logical or foolish. I made my decision with my head, and I’ve lived to regret it. Loneliness is not a good companion.”

  Lilly pressed her palm against Becci’s chest. “Do what you feel is best in here. Don’t lose your chance for happiness like I did.”

  “But I don’t know what I’m feeling. Nothing is logical about my situation.”

  Lilly squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry, child. You’ll make the right decision. Besides, I don’t think it matters whether the bricks and mortar are standing or not. The door Caleb travels through is not earthly.”

  “Oh, Aunt Lilly, he’s going to leave me. I told him to leave.” She went into her aunt’s arms and burst into tears.

  “I know, child. I know,” Lilly said as she gathered her into her arms. “I know how badly it hurts to lose someone you love.”

  AS CALEB LEFT Becci, he listened to the door slam behind him. It sounded so final, and his heart lurched in response. If Becci wanted him out, he would go for now. But he would find a way to learn whether or not she was carrying his child. If she were, he would do what he had to do—what his conscience demanded.

  Lightning flashed, outlining the figure of a man standing under the oak tree’s canopy and smoking a cigar. He didn’t have to see the man’s face to know it was Ascott. Raindrops pelted the ground and fluttered the leaves as Caleb approached him. This was not a man to be trusted. He’d known it from the moment he’d set eyes on him.

  “Well, Mr. Harrison, I guess with you out of the way, I’ll get what I want. I might even find the gold.”

  “What you find might not be what you really want.”

  “Gold is gold,” Michael quipped.

  “Don’t count on it. Some of it might even be cursed.”

  “For you maybe. You’ve put up a good fight, but I can truthfully say I will be happy to see you go.” Ascott extended his hand. “It has been challenging.”

  Caleb glanced at Ascott’s hand then looked away. “I had a fiancé once,” he said. “She was shot in the back by a gambler named Michael. Not that you might be that man, but you have the look of a gambler about you. I don’t trust gamblers. Never have. Never will.”

  Michael came up even with Caleb’s shoulder. “Just get out or Becci will be the one who loses.”

  “You and I might lose, but Becci won’t. She has destiny on her side.”

  “We’ll just see about that.” Ascott stalked away.

  Caleb waited until he heard the car door’s hinges creak before turning toward the lake. When he reached it, an eerie calmness settled over the water, disturbed only by the raindrops dancing on the slick surface. Not even the wind blew to ripple it.

  Dropping to his knees, Caleb lifted his face to the dark sky and let heaven’s tears drench him. “In my heart I know I can’t save you, Rebecca, but I will bring your killer to justice. And as I promised, I will care for Luke as if he were my own. But I’m not leaving this place a whole man. My heart is broken.”

  A gust of wind erupted. The water’s glassy surface suddenly rippled and sloshed against the bank. Blue-white lightning flashed repeatedly in the distance as thunder rumbled. Caleb rose, turned his collar up and headed back to the shed. He had one more paragraph to write before he turned his journals over to Becci.

  As he opened the shed door, his foot hit one of the whiskey bottles that littered the floor. Signs of Jacobs’s drinking were everywhere, but there was no sign of the drunk.

  It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore. One by one Caleb slipped his shirt buttons free, his heart growing heavier with each one. He’d thought Becci would be undressing him one last time. The memory of her hands touching, caressing, loving him gnawed at his very soul.

  He would never again feel her touch. Never see her green eyes flash with anticipation or darken with passion.

  Locking out the memories, Caleb finished changing and hung Obadiah’s damp clothes up to dry. He would give Jacobs fifteen minutes to return. After they finalized their plans, he would go over the instructions he wrote Becci for opening the secret compartments.

  Caleb reached for his saddlebags and touched nothing.

  No! He dropped to his knees and frantically scanned the dark area under the cot. Only a black, empty void greeted him.

  “I NEED YOUR signature on four different documents,” Michael said as he handed Becci the pen.

  She wished her aunt had stayed up, but she’d been exhausted. The party had been for nothing, and the long evening had taken its toll on both of them. She just wanted to be alone so she could think about her and Caleb. She’d been about to go to her room when Michael had returned. He said he’d stayed outside to smoke and wait for the others to leave so they could have a little privacy while they went over the papers for the sale of her home.

  “What am I signing?” she asked, shoving her sleeves up over her elbows. She poised the pen just above the line waiting for Michael’s answer.

  “Just a bunch of mumbo jumbo so complicated that it can hardly be explained. Trust me. It’s all legal.”

  “I’m sure it is. When will I receive the money for the sale?” Becci asked, straightening to look at him.

  “The funds are set up to go into an account by the end of the week.”

  Becci picked up the top sheet and started reading.

  “Damn it, Becci. It is not really necessary for you to read every word. You’re acting as if you don’t trust me.”

  “Maybe I don’t.” Becci slapped the paper and pen down on the table.

  “Now, Becci, be . . . ”

  “Half the blanks aren’t even filled in,” Becci interrupted.

  “I’ll take care of that later. It’s three in the morning, and I know you’re as anxious for me to leave as I am to get out of here.”

  “You’re right. Why don’t you just leave the papers? After I’ve rested, I’ll read them. I want to discuss the offer with Aunt Lilly. When she and I come to an agreement, I’ll sign and forward everything to you by courier.”

  “No. Just sign the damn things and be done with it.”

  “If you do you’ll regret it the rest of your life,” Caleb’s husky masculine voice preceded him through the door. “Where I come from a handshake is as good as a man’s signature. But from what I’ve learned since I arrived here, that doesn’t apply nowadays, especially not with this man.”

  “This is none of your business,” Michael snapped.

  “What are you doing here?” Becci demanded at the same time.

  “I’m trying to find Jacobs, and I must have the medallion before we can leave.”

  Becci wanted to scream. He was here for that blasted medallion. “Michael, I’m not going to sign anything right now. Why don’t you just leave the papers and go home?”

  She turned to Caleb, letting her gaze start at his mud-encrusted boots and drift upward. He’d changed from the clothes he’d worn to the party into the thick cotton shirt and pants he’d had on the day he arrived.

  His hat was p
ulled low over his eyes, but she had no trouble remembering the emotions she’d seen in them over the past few weeks. She tried to stifle the flutter of desire that swept through her, but it was impossible. Her fingers still tingled with a need to touch him, and her heart continued to race with excitement. Even now, after all she’d learned about him, she wanted him. She would never see those twilight-blue eyes glisten with excitement or darken in passion again. Never.

  “I had hoped you would decide not to sell the house,” Caleb said, snapping her attention back to him.

  “I don’t know what I’ll do yet. I need to talk to Aunt Lilly first,” Becci returned, suddenly feeling angry toward both men. Caleb only wanted the medallion, and Michael only wanted his finder’s fee for the buyer he’d found. “I’ll get the medallion and the box.”

  She whirled around, leaving before either of them had a chance to speak.

  Michael tapped the legal documents into an even stack, slipped them into a large envelope and tossed it onto the table. Reaching for his jacket, he shrugged into it and raised his gaze to Caleb’s.

  “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll stick around until you make your exit. But don’t plan on taking the medallion with you. I have other plans for it. As far as the house is concerned, once Becci signs these papers, I’ll own it, too.”

  “Becci will never sign.”

  “I’ll still have the gold medallion.”

  Caleb took off his hat and placed it on the hook beside the back door as he spoke. “The medallion is not gold, it’s orichalc. It also isn’t yours or mine. It belongs to an existence far more advanced than any we know and has powers no one can understand, not even its keeper. At least that’s what this book says.” Caleb pulled a small book from his shirt pocket. It was the one he’d found hidden in Obadiah’s top hat when he’d tried on the clothes the first time.

  He hadn’t realized what he’d found until tonight when, as he dressed for the party, he saw the front cover clearly—two circles, one containing hands clasped in friendship, the other with hands raised in anger. He’d only read the first paragraph, but it had been very informative.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Michael said.

  “You’re wrong, Ascott. I do know. I am its keeper.”

  For the first time he realized the significance of the position. No one could knowingly take it through the door without a keeper. If they tried, death would soon follow.

  Death.

  “Becci!” he whispered, alarmed. He ran for the staircase. He had to stop her before she touched the medallion.

  A DISTANT, WHISPERED scream of pain sent a tingle of apprehension through Becci. It’s only the wind, she assured herself as she slowly climbed the stairs. When she reached the top she glanced down the long, dark hall. Never had she been afraid in her own house, and there was no reason to be afraid now. Besides, Caleb and Michael were still in the kitchen. If anyone was up here, all she had to do was scream, and they’d come running.

  The constant flashes from the early summer storm gave the upstairs an almost ghoulish atmosphere. Wind whistled through the open window at the end of the hall.

  Her heart pounded. Each breath became more difficult to draw in. An aura of gold, red and blue swirled around the bedroom’s entry. She shook her head. The lights were an illusion caused by the lightning. They had to be. There was no other explanation for them.

  Becci drew in a shaky breath and expelled a sigh. This is crazy. I have nothing to fear.

  She raked a trembling hand over her head and entered her room. A gust of wind from the open window assaulted her, bringing with it a strange yet familiar odor. She moved toward the dresser.

  She had to give the medallion to Caleb. The coin would take him away, but it would also give him the ability to come back to her if he wanted to. She didn’t know how she knew that, but she did.

  Becci opened the carved top of the small box. A shudder of apprehension rippled through her as her fingers grazed the warm coin and circled the cold chain. Reverently, she lifted it. Earlier she’d been too angry and too hurt to see it’s beauty. Now she realized she’d never seen anything so beautiful. Was this the one Rebecca said Obadiah gave in payment for a woman’s services? Or the one she’d given to Caleb?

  Lightning flashed, and the gold caught each bright ray. Slim, erratic bolts skittered across the room as the medallion whirled in circles.

  Becci gazed at the coin, hypnotized by its design. In a whisper of time she heard a baby’s tears and a woman’s painful sob. A man’s scathing laugh followed, and there was another mournful cry from the woman.

  Then she heard one word, drawn out. Noooo.

  Its grievous tone tore at her very soul. With the sound came a misty haze that seeped into every corner of the room, bringing with it a sense of danger.

  She heard a limb scrape glass, reminiscent of fingernails across a chalkboard. The wind bellowed, matching the roar of a freight train, and rain pelted the glass in the rapid-fire of a machine gun.

  Suddenly, she shivered. Someone was in the room with her. She pivoted around. From the shadows a man crept out, a knife raised high above his head. The knife swept toward her, and Becci screamed.

  Twenty-one

  “HOLD IT,” ASCOTT ordered, catching Caleb by the shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “Wrong, Ascott,” Caleb said shoving the man’s hand away. “Becci’s in danger. I’ve got to stop her from bringing the medallion downstairs.”

  “She’ll be fine, and you’re not leaving this room until I say you can go. Besides, the time lock is either closed or only works in one direction. I know. When I first arrived, I tried to go back. I even knew that the medallion was the key, but it doesn’t work all the time.” Michael paused, arched his brows and asked, “How are Rebecca and Saul? Is she still as beautiful as ever?”

  Shock rippled through Caleb. Surely he’d heard wrong. “You know Rebecca and Saul?”

  Michael laughed—a cynical, cutting laugh that sent a chill down Caleb’s spine.

  “Yeah, I know them, and Obadiah, too. You should have seen the look on their faces when I vanished.”

  Caleb raked his hand through his hair and glanced toward the family room. The lighted kitchen and the dark entry were stark in their contrast. The shadows seemed to come alive with more than the gentle breeze blowing through an open window somewhere in the house.

  “Use your head, Harrison,” Ascott said, rubbing his left shoulder as he spoke. “I saw you once, too. When you were engaged to Elizabeth, and a fine woman she was.”

  Caleb let his gaze return to Ascott, and he stared at him in bewilderment. What was he talking about? How had he known Elizabeth?

  “You really don’t remember . . . or maybe you don’t want to remember. That’s understandable, considering the circumstances. It also took me a while to figure out just who you were.”

  Ascott ran his hand over the file folder on the table. “You caused me a great deal of trouble back then.” He laughed again. “I guess you really didn’t get a good look at me after I shoved Elizabeth at you. Great plan, having you arrested for my murder.”

  Ascott reached inside his jacket and pulled out a deerskin pouch with the initials E.M. burned into the supple leather. “If you have doubts of my identity, look at this. Recognize it?”

  Caleb clenched and unclenched his fist. This was the man he’d found Elizabeth with! The man he thought he’d killed. His confusion shifted to fury in a heartbeat. He wanted to grab the man and . . . He forced his temper back into control. Beating Ascott half to death wouldn’t bring Elizabeth back, and he had to concentrate on getting to Becci.

  Ascott arched his brows and held the bag up. “You do recognize it, don’t you?”

  Caleb nodded. He’d been the one to stitch the bag and burn the letters to mark it as Eliza
beth’s. He’d given it to her a week before she’d been killed.

  Oddly, the only emotion he felt was a deep regret for the loss of such a vibrant woman. No hate, nor anger, nor bereavement over a love lost.

  “I knew what Elizabeth did for a living. She said it was the only way she had of surviving,” he said.

  “That was true enough,” Michael replied as he bounced the bag lightly in his palm. “But she made a good income at it. Those little tent towns always did have men wanting to part with their money for a willing woman, especially one as young and pretty as Elizabeth. In my position I could line up as many men as Elizabeth could handle. Night or day.”

  Ascott curled his fingers around the top of the drawstring and shook it in front of Caleb.

  “She and I did our fair share of trading, too. The last time we did business I received a little more for my half of her take than the pleasures of her soft, warm body.”

  Caleb flinched at the memory of Elizabeth slumped in his arms, her life tragically over. He tried to remember the gambler who had shared his bedroll with Elizabeth. Was it really Ascott?

  Closing his eyes, he replayed the scene. The killer’s hand had a thin scar that blazed a crooked river across his knuckles—a scar exactly like the one on Ascott’s hand. His eyes flew open.

  “How long have you been here?” Caleb asked, trying to keep the anxiety he was feeling out of his voice.

  “About four years. Walked right in here and made myself at home. Did you know that they have places that pay a fortune for those small, gold nuggets? Of course I’ve long since used up all the gold I had, but it got me started. And food is easy to come by once you have money.”

  Caleb didn’t respond but slowly eased toward the hallway. Ascott was so busy bragging about himself that, hopefully, he wouldn’t realize Caleb was moving until it was too late.

  “It took me nearly a year to really adjust. This is a great time to live, even if it is full of stupid people. Everyone is so willing to help you learn, especially if they think you’re from overseas.” Ascott casually sauntered across the room to block the doorway.