Prophecy: Rapture, Page 2

It was Stacie’s turn to go pale. “This wasn’t my doing,” she protested.

  Eric intercepted Joe on his way back to continue throttling the young woman. “Let me.” He turned back to Stacie, placing his body between Joe and his prey.

  Stacie searched the faces of the others, looking for an ally. She needn’t have bothered. Neither of the other two was going to stand between Eric and Joe and the traitor who was most probably responsible for the deaths of Kyla and Gram. Whether or not Kyla was the prophet was immaterial to them. She was a friend. So, when Eric’s fist connected with her ribcage, none of the others even cringed in her favor.

  Eric stood over her, flexing his hand. “Talk, Stacie. Tell us where she is.”

  Stacie curled into a fetal position in the chair. She gasped out an answer, probably unwilling to give Eric a reason to do that again. “I tell you, it wasn’t me. The plan was that they would raid on Monday.”

  “Why Monday?” Eric crouched until he was eye to eye with her.

  Stacie gasped for breath, but her eyes glowed with a fierce light. “Because I wouldn’t be here. I wasn’t supposed to be here. Get it?”

  “What? You didn’t want in on the fun?” Eric’s sarcastic tone wasn’t lost on her.

  “I didn’t want...” Stacie glanced at the others and sighed before continuing. “...to get caught in the crossfire.”

  “So, your buddy Harris is going off half cocked?” Eric prodded.

  A look of confusion crossed her face. “Who’s Harris? I have no connection with anyone called Harris.”

  Eric glanced up at Joe sharply. “Two separate groups?”

  “Maybe. Nothing Kyla picked up from her mentioned Harris. But we can’t prove that.”

  Eric ventured further. “And I suppose you don’t know anything about Father Johnson either?” he snapped at her.

  “Father? You mean Catholic? You have to be kidding. They’re almost as bad as—” Stacie remembered her audience and stopped short.

  Joe felt his heart sink. Until Kyla was conscious again, they had lost their last hope. He only prayed he would have enough time to do something once she was awake.

  In the meantime, he smiled at Stacie grimly. “Too bad, Stacie. You started this game, and now you are stuck in the crossfire. Tie her up. I may figure out a use for her yet.”

  * * *

  Stacie tried to move her hands. Damn. Eric knew how to tie a person up. The zip strips were more difficult than handcuffs. She would never work her way out of them.

  She leaned back and took a slow, deep breath, then grimaced. If her ribs weren’t broken, the bruising was severe. Either way, it was going to hurt like hell for awhile.

  What were they up to? It was over. Why couldn’t they see that? What could they possibly want with Stacie? They couldn’t even leverage for the return of their precious prophet since it wasn’t Reverend Cole who had her.

  Stacie sobered. Even if Rev. Cole did have her, he wouldn’t trade her for Stacie. From his point of view, Stacie was expendable. She would be a casualty of war, a small sacrifice to God and his cause. Wasn’t there something in the Bible about God not wanting human sacrifices?

  Stacie sighed and grimaced again. It really was over. She would die here, and no one would lift a finger to save her. Her allies would say she gave her life to God. Her enemies would execute her as a traitor to their cause. There was no way out for her.

  Unless… An idea took form. Stacie never heard the voice whispering in her ear. Had she, she would have thought her guardian angel was intervening for her. Divine inspiration would never have crossed her mind.

  It could work, but she still had to sell them on it.

  Stacie starting yelling for her unseen guard, and Liz entered the room. The look on her face told Stacie that she wouldn’t hesitate to use the handgun she held cradled in her hand.

  “What do you want?” Liz asked.

  “I want to see Joe.”

  Liz looked at her skeptically.

  “I know what you’re thinking. Please. Tell him I may be able to help him find Kyla.” The fact that this was the first time she ever said the other woman’s name wasn’t lost on Stacie. But what did it mean?

  * * *

  Joe paced the room. It had been six long hours, and he still couldn’t reach Kyla. What the hell had Harris done to her? He tried reaching Gram, but she had never connected with anyone but Kyla.

  Eric watched, clearly worried. “Joe, why don’t you sit down?” he suggested.

  Instead, Joe stopped at the window Kyla had fled through the first night and stared out into the darkness. “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know. If I did, I would have already delivered her back to you.”

  “Along with Harris’s head, no doubt.”

  “You know it. Get some rest. You won’t do her any good if you’re exhausted when she does contact you.”

  “What if I’m asleep when she tries, and I don’t hear her?”

  “Figure the odds. I’ve heard her scream in person, remember? I’m sure she could wake the dead from miles away. Besides, you were asleep when her dream-screaming woke you, right?”

  Joe cracked a smile. “You’re probably right. Maybe I should try to get some sleep.” He glanced at the bed. Sleeping there was going to be very hard without her. The knock at the door allowed him another stall.

  “Joe?” Liz called.

  “Yeah, Liz. What’s up?”

  “Stacie wants to see you.”

  “And?” Joe felt his irritation rise several notches. He couldn’t care less what Stacie wanted.

  “Well, she says she might be able to help us find Kyla.”

  Joe yanked open the door and stormed down the hall towards the library. As Eric and Liz fell in behind him, he muttered out a solemn oath. “If she’s pulling something, she’s going to regret it.”

  He entered the library and crossed to the wingback chair opposite Stacie. As Joe settled in it, he stared down at the woman across the rug. “What do you have in mind?”

  “I use my resources to find her.”

  “How?”

  “I make one simple phone call.”

  “To whom?” Joe accentuated that one.

  “Simmons.”

  “So he can come to your rescue? I don’t think so.” Joe started to leave.

  “Are you brain dead? There’s no rescue for me. Don’t you think I know that?”

  Joe regarded her coolly and settled back into the chair again. “Talk.”

  “I call Simmons and tell him it’s blown.”

  “What good will that do?” he asked.

  “I tell him someone else has stolen his prize.” She blushed. “Taken Kyla before them. Reverend Cole won’t like that. No one steals his spotlight, right?”

  Liz snorted. “That’s the understatement of the century.”

  Stacie darkened. “Anyway, they’ll find her, and we ride in and get her out.”

  “We?” Joe raised an eyebrow at her.

  “You. We. It’s all a matter of semantics.”

  Joe started. Semantics? That was one of Kyla’s catchphrases, but they never conducted prophet talk in front of the others. Stacie shouldn’t know to use that word, but she did. “So, Simmons is going to call you back with the information?”

  “Well...no...” Stacie sighed. “It’s not quite that simple. You’ll have to follow him to her and get her out while they fight it out.”

  He paled. “And get her stuck in the crossfire?” Joe raged.

  “You have a better option I don’t know about?”

  Joe sobered. She had a point there. “What if Cole sends someone else?”

  Stacie shook her head. “He won’t. They kept the guest list short on this one. Simmons is already briefed. He knows the drill. Cole won’t change up.”

  Joe nodded. “So we just sic Simmons on them and follow his lead?”

  She nodded.

  “They have her bugged or something?”

  “No, but we know who took her,
right? All I do is tell him that Harris — what’s his first name? — and Bishop Johnson have her, and he’ll find them. That’s what he does.”

  “Bishop?” Joe glared at her, his suspicion piqued.

  “I think I know who you’re talking about, but he’s a bishop now. His name is Brian Johnson.”

  “I thought you didn’t know him.”

  “I don’t, but I heard the name somewhere.” Stacie seemed to be trying to access some piece of elusive information. “I don’t really remember where, but—”

  “If this is some sort of scam—”

  Stacie cut him off. “It’s not. Look, you want her back, right?”

  Joe leaned toward Stacie and shot her a menacing look. “Yes, I do. But why do you?”

  The question hung between them for what seemed an eternity, and her attention roamed the room aimlessly. Finally, she met his gaze. “I don’t know.”

  “I’ll let you know.” Joe disappeared down the hall, leaving Eric and Liz far behind. Eric always knew when he needed space, and Joe needed space desperately.

  Joe laid down on the bed. For a moment, he drank in the smell of Kyla on her pillow. He considered changing beds to one of the ones upstairs but decided the sensation was comforting despite the deep loss he felt at her absence. He took the drawing she’d made from the nightstand and ran his hand over the image. Joe read the poems she wrote again.

  “I should have been here,” he whispered. Joe folded the papers and put them in his wallet. He would carry them with him when he went, wherever he went.

  His head was buzzing with activity. If he took Stacie up on her offer, he would have to do it soon.

  But what is her motive? What does she intend to get out of helping me? Maybe her freedom?

  As he drifted to sleep, a warm calm enveloped Joe. Trust, faith, love, and patience. He had to keep them in mind.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  May 27th, two am—six am

  Kyla felt as if she was floating. She could hear the water around her moving gently. She tried to stretch out her arms in the cool water, but they were pinned to her sides. Kyla started to struggle. She gasped for breath. She was drowning.

  She snapped awake. Of course, she couldn’t move her arms. They were tied behind her back. Kyla was stiff, and her hands were tingly, but she still had circulation.

  Her mouth was dry, but she wasn’t gagged. That could be bad news. It meant there was no one close enough to hear her that would want to help. At any rate, Kyla wasn’t ready to announce that she was awake.

  Kyla glanced around. There was a little light filtering into the blackness around her. It was emanating from a point somewhere behind her. She could see paintings, but they were propped against the wall instead of hung. The furniture was placed haphazardly, stacked in corners. Was this a storage room?

  She moved her head. Kyla could feel heavy fabric under her cheek. She stretched out her legs as far as she could. She was on an old-fashioned overstuffed tapestry-print couch with a wooden frame.

  Kyla wrinkled her nose. It was musty. In fact, the air was cool and moist. Like a cave.

  She squinted at the walls again. They were old rounded stone, weathered with age and practically dripping with slime and mold.

  The sound of running water had been no dream. No wonder it was so damp in here.

  As Kyla examined the walls closer, she realized they slanted into an arch, or maybe a dome, overhead. She was suddenly reminded of the old tunnels that lay under the city. Most had been destroyed in floods generations ago, but some still existed.

  Kyla couldn’t see Gram. She hoped the older woman was okay, wherever she was. Kyla decided she had wasted enough time. It was time to make a call. Kyla closed her eyes and reached out to Joe.

  At first, the connection was fuzzy, and Kyla was afraid there was a limitation to the system. Then, Joe snapped into focus.

  “Are you there?” she asked.

  “Always. Where are you?” She could feel his relief.

  Kyla sent an image of all she could see, and filled in the details that were smell and touch related.

  “That’s not much to go on.”

  “It’s all I have.”

  “Anything else?”

  “I can hear water running.”

  “Pipes?”

  “I don’t think so. It sounds like a stream.”

  “How’s Gram?”

  “Give me a second. I called you first.”

  “You’re supposed to.”

  Kyla could picture the smile on his face. She reached out. “Gram? Are you okay?”

  “Yes. My arms are sore, but I’m fine. And you?”

  “Much better than last time. Where are you?”

  “In a small den. There’s a fireplace and a bunch of old furniture.”

  “Did you see how we got here?”

  “No, I was blindfolded. There are no uncovered windows up here. We traveled for about an hour to get here, and I know we’re near the top of a fairly severe hill.”

  “That covers half the city. Thanks, Gram. I’ll get back to you later.” She switched back to Joe and gave him all of the information Gram had.

  “Damn. Okay, I’ll have to try a radical course of action.”

  “What course?”

  “I’ll have to make a deal with the devil.”

  “What?” Kyla didn’t like the sound of that one.

  “I might have a way to find you, but it means pitting another pack of wolves against the ones who have you and trying to get to you while they fight it out. I don’t like it, but we’re running out of options.”

  “Any chance is better than what I have now. They’re not going to let me see where I am.”

  “Okay. Time to get the ball rolling then. Wish me luck.”

  “Good luck. And Joe— I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “Heather told me we’d both be fine if you went. I didn’t know this was her idea of fine.”

  “Why are you sorry?”

  “For what I didn’t tell you.”

  “Go on.” Kyla could tell Joe was irritated that she had kept something from him, after all.

  “That you’d die if I let you stay. I shouldn’t have kept it from you, but I knew you wouldn’t go. I was terrified you wouldn’t. That’s why it had to be this way. You had to be alive to protect me. Heather did tell me. I’m sorry. I love you. In case I don’t get a chance to tell you later, I wanted to say it.”

  “I understand. You’ll get the chance. I’ll make sure of it. I love you, too.”

  * * *

  Eric poured himself another cup of coffee in the kitchen. It was two o’clock in the morning, and he was on his fourth cup. He hefted the mug to his lips. “Fifth cup,” he mumbled.

  He would wake Jason soon, but Eric doubted he would be able to sleep, even then. No matter what, they had to move today. If there really was a raid scheduled for Monday, Eric wanted to be far away before it happened.

  Joe burst out of the bedroom and pounded down the hall. His bare feet barely touched the floor as he ran.

  Eric snapped into action. Why wasn’t he asleep? Joe had only been down for an hour or two. What was going on? “Joe, slow down.”

  Joe slammed open the doors to the library and grabbed a startled Stacie up by her upper arm. She cringed, probably waiting for the blow she was sure he was about to strike.

  Instead, Joe pulled her along toward the kitchen. “Okay. We’re making your phone call. Let’s move. Eric, wake the others. We’re leaving. Now.”

  * * *

  An hour later, they were less than a mile from site B. Joe wondered at the fact that they would have been right in Simmons’s backyard, hiding out with the prize he sought in another day. Wouldn’t it kill Simmons to know that?

  “Eric, pull over. See the phone booth?”

  Eric nodded and parked the truck at the curb next to it.

  Joe guided Stacie out of the vehicle and into the booth, picked up the receiver, and tu
rned to face her. “Okay, you said Simmons’s place was only a few blocks from here. That gives us all the time we need. Give me his number, and you talk.” Joe unholstered his handgun. He didn’t need to issue the warning again.

  Stacie nodded. “Five-five-five-sixteen-sixty-five.”

  Joe punched the number in and held the phone so he could hear both sides of the conversation. He didn’t like being this close to Stacie, but the plan had a lot of down sides. This one was minor, in comparison to some of the others.

  After three rings, a sleepy voice came on the line. “Somebody better be dead,” Simmons warned.

  “Tim,” she burst out.

  Joe poked her in the ribs with the barrel of the gun, and Stacie shook her head.

  “Stacie? Damn it! Do you have any idea what time it is?” Simmons barked.

  “No, and I don’t care. We have a problem. A really big problem.”

  The sleep seeped out of his voice. “What kind of problem?” he asked.

  “The worst kind. Someone else wants the same shipment you do.”

  “Do we need to speed up delivery?”

  Joe felt a stab of anger at the idea of someone calling Kyla a piece of cargo, a shipment.

  “It’s too late for that. They got to the supplier first. The shipment’s already been picked up.”

  Simmons sucked in his breath. “Who got there before us?”

  “A man named Justin Harris. He mentioned the name Brian Johnson, a Catholic bishop. Any of this ringing bells for you?” she asked.

  “Yes. Actually, it does.” Simmons uttered a few choice curses.

  “Then why wasn’t I warned?” Stacie demanded.

  “I thought he had been taken care of. I thought he was out of the game. Where are you?”

  “On the road somewhere. I got out, but I’m not clear yet. I’ll get to you if I can.”

  “Good luck and God’s speed. I have calls to make.”

  Joe hung up and holstered his gun. He pushed Stacie out of the phone booth and back to the truck. As he closed the door, Joe glanced over at Eric. “So far, so good. Now, let’s see if this rabbit runs.”

  Eric cruised past the address Stacie had given them. In contrast to the other houses on the block, several lights burned in the redbrick they were seeking. Jason ducked away from his concealed spot near the bushes and squeezed in next to Joe.