The Baby's Defender

by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  “The light switch is on the wall to your left,” she told him.

  He flipped the switch, and a surprising amount of contemporary lighting brightened the space. Yes, those shapes he’d seen were pews. Antiques from the look of them, as was the thick pulpit, dark with age, which stood on the chancel up front. Behind the pulpit, a masterpiece of a carved wooden cross spanned nearly the entire back wall.

  “I’m not an antiques aficionado, but this place has a tranquil vibe. Not creepy at all.”

  Cady came up beside him rubbing her arms and gazing around the space as if seeing it for the first time. “I can see what you mean. It’s a bit of a time capsule. When I was here for my great-aunt’s funeral, I hadn’t been in the place since childhood and I wasn’t thinking about aesthetics. Now, I’m trying to put on fresh eyes. Those stained-glass windows are beautiful...and that cross!”

  “Where is the entrance to the crypt?”

  She made a face at him. “Way to burst a girl’s art appreciation bubble. But I suppose that’s what we came for.”

  West followed her up the aisle to the front of the church. The old hardwood floors had to still be in great shape because they made no creaks or groans. Their movement was nearly soundless. No footprints but their own showed in the thin layer of dust on the floor. Another good sign that this place had not recently served as a killer’s hangout. Nevertheless, he wasn’t ready to holster his pistol yet.

  As they got closer to the chancel, it became clear that what had appeared to be the rear wall where the cross hung wasn’t truly the end of the building. A walled-in space jutted out with a door on one side.

  Cady motioned toward the door that stood before them. “I’m not working any latches without you checking them out first.”

  “Quick study.” West examined the knob and the door’s framework. “I think we’re good to go. No booby traps.”

  “Then let’s brave the depths.”

  The hinges creaked slightly as the door gave way to West’s shove. A short concrete threshold introduced a set of cement stairs that were every bit as steep as the wooden ones in the hidden passageway at Cady’s house.

  “I see what Platte meant. Not a safe descent for the pregnant or the elderly.” He frowned at the stairwell. “You might be right about this being the outlet for the tunnel. The stairs are dust-free. They’ve been swept recently.”

  Cady shrugged. “I’m not sure the cleanliness means anything. The entire crypt would have been polished up before my great-aunt’s funeral. Mr. Platte’s office would have seen to that. Dust accumulates at glacial speed inside a stone-enclosed space.”

  “Point taken.” West nodded. “But we still can’t be certain. Zip up your jacket. One thing’s for sure, it’s going to be chillier down there than up here. Let me lead the way.”

  With a flip of the light switch, he started down the stairs and Cady’s footsteps followed. In fact, the crypt seemed to be larger than the footprint of the building above. Marble pillars set at regular intervals supported the chapel structure and allowed for the large open space below. They reached the pale marble floor and West slowly performed a complete turn, scanning the area.

  “Impressive!” He let out a low whistle that echoed slightly in the stone cavity. He lowered his gun to his side. “No sign that it’s been used as a criminal techno-lair.”

  Vaults lined every surrounding wall, many of them with name and date plates attached, but a fair number of them remained unlabeled.

  “Plenty of room for new occupants,” Cady said.

  “Not a bad final resting place, though,” West responded.

  “I’m glad you feel that way,” a throaty female voice purred from a spot behind them on the steps. “Because, very soon, it’s going to be the final resting place for you both.”

  FIFTEEN

  Tiny spider legs danced down Cady’s spine. She knew that voice.

  “I have an M18 military-issue pistol pointed at your backs,” the woman continued in a deadly smooth tone. “Please turn around very slowly.”

  Cady’s gaze darted toward West. His entire posture had transformed from at-ease to at-the-ready. He offered her a nearly imperceptible nod, and Cady complied with the demand in tandem with him. The woman hadn’t been bluffing about the gun. The muzzle of the gun riveted her gaze and stole her breath.

  “Drop the firearm, soldier,” the woman snapped. “Then kick it away, and both of you get your hands in the air.”

  West let out an audible huff. Tension radiated from him, but he slowly lowered his gun to the floor and shoved it away from him with a nudge of his toe. Slowly, he lifted his hands to shoulder height.

  Cady mirrored his posture. She tore her attention from the gun barrel and allowed her gaze to travel up the woman’s thick body to her face.

  “You’re not my mother,” Cady pronounced breathlessly.

  She’d known that truth as soon as she heard this woman’s voice, but now sight confirmed sound. Sure, the woman fit the description Mitch Landes had given Darius, which roughly corresponded with her mother’s height and build, but this woman’s “cat eyes” were green, not amber.

  In her peripheral vision, she registered West’s head turning sharply toward her. “Who is she, then?”

  “Maude Hankins, the paralegal from Mr. Platte’s office.”

  “AKA Hannah, the family reject.” The woman let out a sour chuckle. “But that was a long time ago.”

  “Hannah?” Cady burst out. “But you’re supposed to be dead.”

  “I was supposed to die, but in typical rebellious fashion, I refused to cooperate. That was Aunt Anita’s favorite label for me—rebellious.”

  “Talk straight,” West said. “You’re not making sense.”

  Hannah finished descending the stairs, the pistol never wavering in its focus on them. “How would you feel as a little girl to wake up in an institution from a year-long coma brought on by bacterial meningitis and find out that what family remained to you had disowned you and left you in the care of the state?”

  “But how could my great-aunt do such a thing?” Cady said.

  “Easy enough to accomplish when I was technically an orphan. The official guardianship for May and I had not yet gone through after our mother’s death. Auntie-dearest could still refuse legal custody of me, and she did.”

  “But why pretend you were dead? They had a funeral for you.”

  “The better to save face in the community.” The woman’s eyes flashed fire. “My aunt would not have wanted people to know she’d abandoned a sick child. At the funeral service, I’m sure my aunt’s grief was very touching, though I doubt May shed a tear. She always was a cold one, and greedy, too. Now she had our house all to herself.”

  “This has always been about the house, hasn’t it?” West spoke up.

  “That house should rightfully be mine, and now I’m going to claim it.”

  If Cady had ever seen raw, ugly avarice, she was seeing it now. She swallowed against the sandpaper in her throat. “Where have you been all these years? Why didn’t you come forward sooner? This seems like such an unnecessary way to get what you want. Killing me won’t get you the house.”

  “There’s where you’re dead wrong—pun intended.” The woman showed her teeth in a wolfish grin. “As your infant’s only living relative, I shall graciously step forward and accept guardianship of precious Olivia. The house comes with her. It’s a package deal.”

  Bile erupted on the back of Cady’s tongue and blackness edged her vision. This creature could not be allowed to gain custody of her daughter.

  “Don’t!” West’s bark froze Cady in the process of gathering herself to leap at Hannah. “At this range, she can’t miss you this time.”

  Hannah’s face reddened. “I won’t miss a big lug like you, either. Best you remember that. Now ditch your cell phones, both of you.”
<
br />   Cady shrugged. “I left mine in the Blazer in my purse.”

  “Yes, I see you’d have nowhere to carry it when you’re wearing leggings and a pocket-less shirt. But you, soldier-man, ditch your cell and then turn around with your back to me.”

  West tugged his cell from his belt and dropped it to the floor.

  As he turned, Cady desperately sought his gaze. She received a wink as her reward. Did the gesture mean West had a plan? Please, God, let it be so! Or was he offering empty hope to keep her as calm as possible? Maybe a little of both?

  “Directly in front of you and at about thigh-height,” their tormenter went on, “whose nameplate do you see?”

  “It appears to be your supposed resting place,” West answered, his tone tight and even—too even.

  Yes, West was definitely planning something. And whether his plan worked or not, he would defend her to the death. Of that, she had no doubt.

  “Very good,” said Hannah. “The seal on the door is broken, as you will see if you look closely. Open it and pull out the casket on its supporting tray.”

  A sharp click was followed by the soft rumble of small wheels. Cady gritted her teeth and shifted from one foot to another then back again, keeping her weight on the balls of her feet. When West made his move, she needed to be ready to go into action.

  “Lift the lid,” Hannah prompted.

  A long creak grated in Cady’s ears. West’s deep gasp sent a shiver through her. She’d never heard that level of shock come out of him.

  “Cady,” his voice rasped, “if this is who I think it is, then you need to have a look.”

  “By all means, look.” Hannah made a slight gesture with her gun.

  Cady formed fists with her hands against the compulsion to smack the smugness from her evil aunt’s face. Slowly, she swiveled around and stared into the open casket. Her jaw dropped, but no sound came out of her mouth. Pulse throbbing in her ears, her extremities went numb. Then, as if a cork had been popped, a scream erupted from her throat.

  “Mother!”

  * * *

  “Cady, she’s alive.” West grasped Cady’s shoulders. He should have prepared her better for what she was about to see, but he’d been so stunned himself.

  The scream faded away and her eyes regained their focus.

  “She’s not d-dead?” Her voice quavered.

  “No.” West shook his head. “Drugged, I think.” He faced Hannah with raised eyebrows, and the woman jerked a confirming nod.

  Wordlessly, Cady reached out and put a hand in front of May’s face. “I feel her breath. You’re right, she is alive.”

  “For now.” That self-satisfied purr had returned to Hannah’s voice. “Someone needs to take the blame for your deaths and all the other terrible things that have been going on. I think I’ve done an excellent job so far in setting up that scenario. Now, we can proceed to the final act in this little tragedy.”

  Bright red suffused Cady’s face, and she whirled toward the woman who held them at gunpoint. “You kidnapped my mother from her care facility.”

  “Don’t get wild now,” Hannah said. “No kidnapping was necessary. Only a little spying on the overworked and underpaid staff to discover the code to open the rear gate to the fenced-in outdoor recreation area.”

  West could readily believe that version of events. It had been all too easy for him to acquire a key card to operate the supposedly secure elevator at the Twin Oaks.

  “You’re very good at spying,” he said, assessing the distance between him and that M18.

  He shuffled a small step forward, attempting to close the gap. His only chance to reach their captor before she shot him was to create a distraction so the weapon might waver away from him.

  Hannah grinned. “Glad you noticed. Once I had the code, I was able to slip onto the property unobserved one day while May was outside. She was so glad to find out her sister was still alive that she came with me willingly.”

  Cady’s eyes narrowed. “I doubt that. I found several of my mother’s journals. You two fought like cats and dogs. There was genuine animosity. You even tried to smother her with a pillow, just like you tried to smother me.”

  Hannah clicked her tongue. “Ancient history. Let’s let bygones be bygones, shall we?”

  “One thing, though.” West eased himself another few inches in the woman’s direction.

  “What is it now?” she snapped.

  “Why have you suddenly shown up after all these decades?”

  “I’m wondering the same thing,” Cady said.

  “I don’t owe either of you an answer.” Hannah’s eyes narrowed to hard slits. “But I’ll give you the short version. My husband passed away two years ago after a long illness that devastated our finances.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Cady’s voice bled sympathy in spite of her anger. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.”

  The woman snorted. “I didn’t say I loved him, but I loved our lifestyle and—poof—it was all gone. We lost the house and everything. He finally passed—or rather, I helped him pass so I could collect a little life insurance to get me started again. Then I decided, why settle for a meager sum and struggle to make rent in a dumpy little apartment in my middle age? Why not go take what should be mine from my not-so-loving family? So, I accepted the paralegal job with that living anachronism, Platte, under my middle name, Maude, and married name, Hankins, so no one would connect me with our family. Then I started working my plan, and here we are.”

  “Yes, here we are,” West said, shuffling marginally forward, “but how could you know that your aunt Anita would die soon and create the opportunity for you?”

  “One thing you should know about me.” Hannah’s expression morphed into a slimy smirk. “I create my own opportunities.”

  Cady gasped. “You killed my great-aunt? But how? The doctor said her bad heart finally gave out.”

  “Sure. With a little help from me, slipping into the house through the passage and substituting her meds for a placebo. Then it was only a matter of time—a short time, as it turned out.”

  “That’s—that’s—” Cady seemed to struggle to find a word strong enough.

  “Despicable,” West finished for her.

  “What you think of me is immaterial.” Hannah lifted her chin. “Now, enough chitchat. Soldier-man, kindly take May in your arms, and Cady-dear, help out your auntie by pressing the lotus flower in the fresco to your immediate right.”

  The hairs on the back of West’s neck stood to attention. He needed to make his move while his arms were not burdened with the limp form of Cady’s mother. The cell phone he’d been forced to drop lay close to his feet. What if it could provide the distraction he needed? Whatever he did would be a long shot, but it might be their only shot.

  Quick as a blink, he kicked out his foot and sent the cell phone skittering across the floor. The noise was sharp and loud in the marble-enclosed space. Hannah jerked, and her head and her gun started to follow the direction of the sound. West leaped toward her stocky figure.

  With a shriek, Hannah corrected her reflexive turn. A gunshot echoed through the chamber. White heat struck West’s head and blackness swallowed him whole.

  SIXTEEN

  “West!” Cady melted to the floor beside his prone body.

  Blood poured from a gash in the side of his head. Without a second thought, she shrugged out of her jacket and pressed it to the wound with one hand. She laid the other hand on his chest, searching for a heartbeat. It was there, strong and even.

  “Thank you, God,” she breathed out.

  “What a bother!” Hannah snarled. “Now you’ll have to drag both this lug and your mother into the chamber by yourself.”

  The woman sidled over to the wall and pressed the lotus flower. A section of the wall swung open, and the dank chill of the tunnel added
to the cold of the stone crypt. Cady shivered but did not leave off applying pressure to West’s head. The bullet had only grazed him, but it had packed a mighty punch.

  West groaned and his eyes opened, but they remained unfocused. He blinked and his brow furrowed.

  “What kind of truck hit me?” he croaked out.

  Hannah patted her pistol. “The full metal jacket ammo in this SIG Sauer should make a man feel like a semi sideswiped him.”

  Cady glared at her aunt.

  “Don’t mess with me, young lady. I spent four long years in the military. Enlisted when I was eighteen. It was either that or go to prison. Thankfully, my early indiscretions while in foster care are now a sealed record. I wouldn’t want any taint from the past to stand between me and obtaining custody of little Olivia.”

  A growl left Cady’s throat. Her muscles tensed for a leap.

  “Ah-ah-ah!” Hannah admonished, waggling the pistol. “Just get Mr. Hero into the tunnel, then come back for May.”

  Ducking her head, Cady put an arm under West’s shoulders and helped him to a sitting position. It wouldn’t do to let their captor see reflected in her eyes the fierce determination in her heart. One way or another, even if it cost her life, she would stop this woman from ever touching Livvy.

  Half crawling, half staggering together, she managed to guide West into the tunnel.

  “Keep going,” Hannah called after them, urging them on until they were a good twenty feet into the passage, and the light from the crypt was surrendering to the darkness of the tunnel. “That’s far enough.”

  Cady let West sink to the chill, damp floor with his back to the side of the tunnel. His deep groan echoed an ominous moan from the wooden support structure around them. Parts of this passage had been burrowed through rock, but other parts were nothing more than dirt and clay shored up by the failing strength of ancient wooden beams.