The Devil's Labyrinth

CHAPTER 46

RYAN?” FATHER SEBASTIAN asked, his voice sounding slightly puzzled, but keeping his flashlight squarely in Ryan’s eyes, making it impossible for him to see the priest’s face, let alone read his expression.

Ryan had been caught — there was no escaping that fact — but he had no idea if Father Sebastian knew he’d been following them and had watched them put Jeffrey Holmes’s body into the stone sarcophagus. Maybe if he just played dumb…

“What are you doing down here?” Father Laughlin asked, giving Ryan an opportunity.

“I don’t even know where I am,” he said, making his voice as plaintive as he could without overdoing it. “Clay Matthews — my roommate — told me there was a shortcut to the gym, but I got lost.” He tried to shield his eyes from the beam of the flashlight. “I was really getting scared ’til I saw your light a minute ago. I didn’t think I was ever going to get out of here.”

“Well, you’re certainly not anywhere near the gymnasium,” Father Sebastian said, still holding the blazing light steady. “How long have you been down here?”

Ryan tried for a helpless shrug as his mind worked furiously. “I don’t even know. It seems like hours, but I guess it couldn’t be. What time is it now? It was about eight-thirty when I left my room.”

“And it’s almost nine, now,” Father Sebastian told him. “So it hasn’t actually been hours.”

A trickle of perspiration trailed down the side of Ryan’s face, but he couldn’t tell if the priests noticed it.

“You know, it’s against the rules to use the tunnels as a shortcut,” Father Sebastian said.

Ryan shook his head. “Nobody told me that, and everyone uses them for shortcuts.”

“And too often people get lost,” Father Sebastian replied. “Which is exactly why it’s against the rules.”

“I’m sorry,” Ryan said, putting as much conviction into his voice as he could muster. “I really didn’t know, and I can tell you after tonight I’ll sure never do it again.”

He could almost feel the two priests weighing not only his words, but the tone of his voice, and the expression in his eyes as well.

“All right,” Father Sebastian finally sighed, lowering the light. Ryan took a deep breath of relief. “Come with us.”

As sheepishly as he could — and keeping his head down — Ryan followed close behind the two priests as they walked quickly through the maze of tunnels, up and down various short flights of steps that had been put in where the levels of the various basements didn’t quite match. The flashlight beam illuminated only the floor in front of their feet, but Father Laughlin seemed to know exactly where they were and where he was going.

Ryan began rehearsing what he’d do once he was above ground.

The first thing would be to find the nearest door to the streets and get as far away from St. Isaac’s as he possibly could.

Then call his mother.

Then call the police.

And then, with his mother and the police, he’d come back and show them where the two priests had put Jeffrey Holmes’s body.

And he’d get Melody out of the infirmary and into a real hospital.

Except how was he going to show the police where Jeffrey Holmes was? He’d been trying to keep track of all the turns they’d made, and how many steps they’d gone up and down, but he’d already forgotten some of it, and—

“There’s something here you should see,” Father Sebastian said, his voice breaking into Ryan’s reverie. He put a key in the lock of an old wooden door that was set deep in the wall of the tunnel. “Come and take a look.” He pushed the door, and it swung wide, its rusty hinges creaking.

Just the sound was enough to make Ryan’s skin crawl. “I–I really need to get back to the dorm,” he stammered.

“Just a quick look,” Father Sebastian urged. “Given who you’re with, I doubt Brother Francis will be too hard on you if you’re a little late. And this is part of the school’s history. Actually, it’s one of the most interesting parts.”

Once again Ryan’s mind raced. If he insisted on going back to the dorm, they’d figure out he’d seen something. Better to pretend he wasn’t worried about anything at all, even though the hairs on the back of his neck were all standing on end, and he was overwhelmed by an urge to turn and run. But there was no choice — he had to maintain his masquerade of innocence.

The sooner he looked at whatever Father Sebastian wanted to show him, the sooner they’d be out of here. Steeling himself against the tide of apprehension that was rapidly rising around him, Ryan stepped in front of Father Laughlin and peered into the dark room.

“Go in,” Father Sebastian said. “Light a candle.” He shined the flashlight on a candle box in a niche a few feet away and the sand receptacle that stood next to it.

Ryan took two steps into the room.

The light went out.

The door slammed behind him.

Ryan wheeled around and threw his weight against the heavy wooden door, but the unmistakable sound of an old and heavy bolt being thrown echoed in the small room, and Ryan knew his act had failed.

They knew exactly what he’d seen.

The tide of apprehension of a moment ago built into a giant wave of panic, and Ryan turned with his back to the door, pressing himself hard against it as he took deep breaths, willing the panic away. After a moment, his mind cleared enough to remember that there were candles, and certainly matches, and he didn’t need to be in absolute darkness.

He felt for the chapel door behind him, trying to remember exactly where the niche with the candles was. To the left, and not very far away. Holding his hands in front of him, he groped slowly and blindly through the darkness. But after he’d taken half a dozen steps he found nothing, and hesitated. Should he try to go back to the door and start over again? But what if he couldn’t even find the door? He didn’t even know how big the room was — he might wander for hours in the blackness!

That thought alone was enough to bring his panic surging back, and a soft moan of terror rose in his throat. Better to keep going, at least until he found another wall.

He took another step, then another, and suddenly his fingertips touched the hard stone of the wall, and a moment later he found first the niche, then the box of thin wax tapers. Gently, he ran his fingers around the box of candles until he found a box of wooden matches and a striking pad.

He struck a match and held it to a candle, then stuck it in the sand. He lit another and another, until the sand receptacle was ablaze, and the glowing candlelight began to drive the terror from his soul.

At last he saw where the priests had imprisoned him.

A chapel.

A small chapel dominated by a hideous crucifix, which seemed to be suspended in midair over a small altar. An old, ornately carved confessional sat to one side. The walls and floor were cold gray stone.

Ryan picked up one of the candles and walked around behind the altar, where he found a small door, presumably leading to the vestry.

It was as solidly locked as the chapel door.

There was no way out, unless he took the candles and set fire to the chapel door.

But even that probably wouldn’t work; he might die of smoke inhalation in this tiny chamber before the door would be compromised enough to attempt an escape.

There was no escape, so he had to wait for them to come back.

But would they come back for him? What if they just left him alone down here? How long would it take for him to die?

And what if he ran out of candles?

With his terror of the darkness already starting to flood back, he blew out all the candles but two — one left standing in the sand in the niche, the other one clutched tight in his own hand.

He sat on the cold stone blocks, his back to the big wooden door.

They’d come back.

They had to come back.

He sat silently, gazing up at the monstrous hollow-eyed Christ who stared unseeingly back at him.

And then he began thinking about his father.

His father would tell him what to do.

† † †

Teri spread a towel across the highly polished surface of the dresser top, then turned the jewelry box upside down to pour out the contents of its lowest compartment, which she’d always used as a catchall for everything from extra earring backs — or single earrings whose mates she’d never given up hope of finding — to spare change, Bill’s collar stays, and a few tiny objects she could no longer even identify. “I’ll never be able to use this box again,” she said, her voice trembling. “And I’ve loved it since the day Bill gave it to me.” She shook her head sadly and looked up at Tom. “And now I hate it. Isn’t that sad? Someone I don’t even know — probably won’t ever meet — has ruined this for me.” Now she glanced around the room, but her eyes were seeing far beyond the four walls surrounding her.

Walls that had betrayed her; walls that had failed to protect her.

“Do you think I’ll ever feel safe here again?”

“Honey.” Tom came up from behind her and put his hands on her shoulders.

“And I’ll have to throw away everything in that drawer, too.” She nodded her head toward the dresser drawer that was still open, her lingerie still hanging out, just as it had been when she had come home.

Just as it had been when the police had come and taken their report and then gone away again with nothing having changed. “I’ll never wear any of it again. Ever. I don’t even want to touch it.” Now the fear that she would never be safe again began to truly singe into her bones. Suddenly, every window was a doorway and every bed a hiding place.

Every closet could be a refuge for a thief.

A thief, or worse.

Her home, the home she had shared with her husband and son for so many years, the place she had always felt so safe, was no longer a comfort. Her sanctuary had been breached — her very spirit had been violated — and she knew she would never feel safe again.

Not even in Tom’s arms.

“I’ll always be afraid,” she whispered, turning and burying her face in Tom’s shoulder. “Always.”

Tom hugged her close for a moment, then took a deep breath and Teri felt him stiffen as if he’d just made some kind of momentous decision. “Either you’re coming back to my place tonight,” he announced, “or I’m going home, packing a few things, and moving in here tonight. It doesn’t matter what Ryan says or what he thinks — I don’t want you to be here alone.”

Teri pulled away slightly, remembering the terrible pain in her son’s face when she’d told him Tom was going to be moving in with her. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know if I can do that to Ryan.”

Tom tipped her chin up and looked directly into her eyes.

“I do know.”

“You can spend the night,” she said, drawing away slightly, her eyes pleading for his understanding, “but after the way Ryan reacted, I can’t. He’s already been hurt so much, and I just can’t hurt him any more.”

Tom stared at her. “You’re kidding! You’d rather be alone in this house, even after it’s been broken into?”

“I don’t want to,” Teri whispered. “But Ryan’s my son. Mine and Bill’s. He’s already lost his father and now he’s afraid he’s losing me, too. Please…can’t you understand?”

“I’ll try,” he responded, and pulled her closer. “But I’m still not sure it was just a random breakin. They were looking for something — some thing.” His hand gently caressed her hair. “You must have something here that they wanted.”

“There’s nothing, I told you,” she whispered against his chest. “No money, no drugs, nothing of value. You know how I live, Tom. There’s nothing here!”

“There has to be something,” he insisted, holding her tighter. “Maybe something old — something that might not even be worth anything if it were new. You know, like the stuff people bring from their attics on Antiques Roadshow where they don’t even know what they have. Could your parents have left you something? Or Bill?”

At the mention of her husband’s name the memory of the silver cross that Bill had brought back from Kuwait rose in her mind. “Bill brought something from—” she began, but as she felt his arms suddenly tighten and his body stiffen once again, she cut off her own words.

“What?” Tom asked, his voice tight, almost strangled, the gentleness of a moment ago suddenly gone.

Teri froze in his arms, her mind racing. What was going on? What had changed? All she’d tried to do was think of something that might be of value. And now it felt as if he was angry at her. “What’s wrong?” she asked, then tried to step back a little, but his hold on her only tightened. “Let go of me!”

“Tell me where it is,” Tom demanded, his voice no longer just tight, but ice cold. “It’s a cross isn’t it? A silver cross that your husband brought home from Kuwait.”

Teri forced her hands against him and shoved him as hard as she could, breaking loose from his grip and backing away.

“It doesn’t belong to you,” Tom said, his eyes suddenly glittering with fury. “It belongs to us. It’s ours.” Teri stared at him mutely, the color drained from her face. “You need to get that cross and give it to me, Teri. You need to get it right now.”

Teri stared at him, frozen where she stood. Who was this man? Who was this person she’d allowed into her life, who she’d trusted so much she had invited him to move into her home? This man who only a few moments ago had been so loving, so protective?

Now he was a complete stranger — there was not even a trace left of the man she’d fallen in love with. “You did this,” she breathed, the truth slashing into her soul like the blade of a knife. “You told them—” Her voice broke, and she began backing away toward the door. What was so important about the cross? Why did this man need it? And how did he know that whoever had broken into the house hadn’t found its hiding place in the attic trunk? Suddenly — even though she didn’t know why — she knew that whatever happened, she wouldn’t help him, wouldn’t tell him anything. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. “All Bill brought was—”

“Don’t lie to me,” Tom Kelly said, his voice suddenly low and dangerous. “I know what he brought home, and I know it’s still here. The fireplace poker hadn’t been moved. That was our sign — if he’d found it, he’d have left the poker lying in the middle of the living room floor.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Teri insisted, edging closer to the door.

“You do,” Kelly whispered, his eyes dark and menacing. “You know, and you’re going to tell me. We’ve got all night. Trust me on this, Teri. You’ll be telling me anything I want to know long before the sun comes up.”

Teri turned and fled.

Tom lunged after her, grabbing the back of her dress. She pulled away, feeling the fabric rip, and raced toward the top of the stairs.

He reached for her again, but she twisted away from his grip. He came after her again, but suddenly skidded as a throw rug slipped out from under him on the hardwood floor. He staggered, fell to his knees, but managed to grab one of her ankles.

Now Teri, too, fell, but lashed out with her free leg, kicking at his face, at his chest, at his arms — kicking him anywhere she could, panic giving her a strength she didn’t know she had.

“Tell me, damn you!” he roared, finding a grip on her flailing leg.

She grabbed the spindles of the baluster with both hands and wrenched her ankles out of his grasp, then got her feet beneath her and ran down the stairs.

He leaped from the top stair and landed on her, and together they tumbled down the last steps.

Teri’s head smashed hard on the bottom step, but somehow she mustered one last burst of energy and started lurching through the living room toward the front door.

Tom Kelly’s arm snaked around her neck in a vise grip she couldn’t escape. “We don’t have to do this,” he whispered through gritted teeth. “Just tell me where the cross is.”

Suddenly she twisted hard, turning just enough to jerk her knee hard up into his groin. His grip weakened slightly, and for a brief moment she thought she might escape. But then his eyes filled with rage, and a furious howl erupted from his throat. His huge hands closed on her shoulders and he hurled her to the floor.

She reached out, trying to break her fall, but it was too late.

Teri’s head crashed on the marble hearth of the fireplace.

She saw a starburst of color.

And then nothing.

† † †

Tom stood still for a long moment, recovering his breath and waiting for the agony in his groin to ease. He glowered furiously at Teri’s still form, offering a quick prayer to Allah that she would live long enough to tell him what he had to know. And she would tell him; by the time she awakened, she would be completely restrained, and, if he had to, he would spend the rest of the night getting the information from her.

As the nausea from the agony in his groin passed, he went to her, knelt, and made certain she was still breathing.

She was.

Everything was going to be all right.

But as he rose to his feet to find something with which to bind her, the flare of headlights washed across the living room.

A car pulled up in front.

He stepped to the window and pulled the curtain just far enough aside to peer out.

A police car.

So he wasn’t going to have the rest of the night after all.

He ducked into the kitchen, then slipped quietly out the back door.

The one with the broken pane.