Warning Signs (Love Inspired Suspense) (17 page)

THIRTEEN

“N
o, she didn’t come back into the house. I would have seen her if she did.” Wes’s enraged voice echoed down to Owen from the top of the tunnel’s wooden steps. “See? What did I tell you? She lost you like an experienced criminal. She knew exactly where to go because she’d been down there many times before—carting the drugs!”

Owen peered around, trying to see through the dark tunnel. He noticed a second passageway. If Miriam hadn’t gone back upstairs, then she must have gone down this other path.

“You’re wrong, Wes. She was down here seventeen years ago and witnessed something horrible. She’s walked this route a million times in her dreams since, but that’s it.”

“What did she see?”

“Well, personally, I think she witnessed a murder but was too young to understand.”

“A murder? No one’s been murdered on Stepping Stones for as long as I’ve been alive. No one’s gone missing, either. Only a few women who packed their bags and left.” Wes finished that last part with loathing in his voice.

“Which one of them left seventeen years ago?”

“That would be Rita Ann.” Wes shook his head. “Poor Jerome. The man loved her. He still carries her picture in his wallet to this day even though she walked all over him, and then walked out on him.”

“Or that’s what he wants everyone to think,” Owen shot back.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“A woman was killed down here, and whoever did it knows Miriam could identify them. The guy she saw wore a black-and-gold ring with a
T
on it. Just like Jerome’s.”

“So you’re saying Jerome killed his own wife? Those are big accusations,” Wes bellowed, hiding none of his anger toward Owen.

“Well, it would explain why the pranks against Miriam turned deadly. Why someone would run her down on land and at sea. They didn’t just want her to leave so they could use her home to stash their drugs. They wanted her...silenced.”

And now she could be headed to the same place the last murder occurred.

“I have to find her.” A surge of adrenaline pumped through Owen’s veins. “Wes, contact Len to find out where these tunnels exit. I’m going through this way.”

Owen darted off through the second passageway. He hadn’t gone but ten steps before he heard the trapdoor crash down behind him. He sprang around to find nothing but blackness. No light from upstairs shone down anymore. The door was sealed shut.

Shut by Wes?

Dumfounded, Owen realized if he couldn’t find the exit on the other end of this tunnel, then his so-called friend had just buried him alive.

* * *

“Why didn’t you leave?” Ben’s lips moved, but with the dancing shadows from the flickering candle, Miriam wasn’t sure if she read him right. Plus the gun in his hand had her focus preoccupied.

He mouthed something about her not following his warnings. She surmised that meant Ben was behind all the pranks.
But why?
Why had this seventeen-year-old boy threatened her?

“And now...have...kill you...Dad...go...jail.” Ben’s lips pinched in anger.

Miriam backed up. If she read his lips right, Ben meant to really hurt her.

“Go! Move!”

She read those words perfectly.

His gun waving toward the second exit on her left helped, too.

Except, she had no idea where this tunnel led.

At her hesitation, the barrel of the gun met her at eye level, giving her no choice but to move forward. Still, at the dark mouth of the passage, her feet stumbled to a stop.

Miriam pulled air from her belly and pushed out hearing words. “Please...don’t...do this, Ben. I can help you.”

Ben’s gun jammed into her back. He wasn’t having it. She could do nothing but follow his directions, and in such tight quarters, the defense lessons she recalled were useless. Whipping around while she squeezed through the tunnel wasn’t an option.

Up ahead a crack of light appeared. An outline of a door?

Yes. The exit. But that brought no relief.

Instead, she wanted to run back into the darkness. She had no idea what she would find behind that door. Would someone be waiting for her? Ben couldn’t be working alone, she figured. He was only seventeen. He was obviously following someone else’s directions.

The gun in her back pushed harder. Message enough to step up and open it.

Miriam pulled the wooden door in. Blinding light had her hands flying to her face for a shield until her eyes dilated to a comfortable exposure.

Ben pushed her out into some sort of sandy cove.

A fishing boat called the
Rita Ann
docked alone, laden with large tan packages.

The drugs.

The multitude of them stunned her. To think all of that had been in her basement all this time. And if it weren’t for Owen, she would be paying the price for it. If nothing else, she had that to thank him for. Too bad, though, she was only a job to him. A way to help the disabled girl.

She forced her mind to think on that and to think on how he’d rejected her—because all she could concentrate on was his safety. Was he still in the dark? Was he lost?

Ben shoved her forward. He seemed to want her to board the boat. Miriam jammed her heels into the thick sand. She couldn’t let him bring her to another destination. She dropped to her knees. Ben would have to shoot her or drag her. Deep down she refused to believe he could really hurt anyone.

She angled a look over her shoulder to make him look at her. She needed to convince him that she could help him.

Except something off to his left held his attention. Miriam followed his gaze and saw a man entering the cove. Sunlight hit him at a certain angle and something on him flashed brightly.

A metal belt perhaps?

The man’s lips moved, but he was too far away for her to read. His facial expression turned to shock, and he waved his hands above his head. Sand flew as he sped toward them. At the same moment, a police boat zipped into the cove with Sheriff Grant at the wheel and Alec Thibodaux beside him.

Alec jumped out on a rock and headed straight at her, like the other man. At the rate they advanced she thought they would both tackle her.

Miriam cringed and ducked her head when they reached her at the same time. After a few beats, when nothing happened, she opened her eyes to find Alec pinning Ben down behind her.

The unknown man now held the gun.

Miriam looked closely and inhaled sharply.

A black-and-gold ring with the letter
T
glinted at her. It had been the ring that had flashed in the sunlight, not a belt buckle. The ring that belonged to Jerome Thibodaux.

The ring from her dream.

Sheriff Grant spoke to Jerome Thibodaux. The man gave the gun over without hesitation. He also took a wallet from his back pocket and passed it over.

Sheriff Grant withdrew a picture and rammed it in front of her face. Breath left her lungs in a whoosh.

It was the woman from her dreams.

Only, her eyes weren’t big and bulging anymore. Miriam had thought no human could ever have eyes that bulged out in such horror. It was something out of a scary movie, where the actors were made up to look inhuman.

Made to look like death.

Seeing the woman’s everyday, human face in the photo proved what Miriam had seen that night wasn’t normal. What she’d seen that night was this woman in the throes of death.

She closed her eyes to relive the dream. She could see the bulging eyes. She could see the man’s hands curling. But what Miriam never put together was that they were curling around the woman’s neck.

The man had been choking her. She’d witnessed this woman’s murder.

Murdered by the hands that wore the ring.

Miriam fixated on the piece of jewelry. It matched the one from her memory with detailed accuracy. The gold
T
sparkled on the black onyx surface. She visualized it curled around the woman’s throat.

“He...killed...her,” she said.

Her words triggered Ben to jump over her and attack Jerome. Alec went after Ben. So much commotion, so much sand flying, so much was said she couldn’t understand. Miriam locked eyes on Ben’s ranting lips. She couldn’t be sure of most of it, but one word on Ben’s lips stood out.

Mother.

The woman was Ben’s mother? Miriam put the pieces together. Jerome had killed his wife. He’d killed Ben’s mother.

Sorrow for Ben filled Miriam. The woman from her dream was no longer a figment of Miriam’s imagination. She was a real person now. She was a mother with a baby boy. She had a lifetime of memories to make with her son and so much joy ahead of her. Ben’s mother had missed out on rolling a ball and laughing with her child like the mother and child Miriam had seen earlier in the day.

And Ben had missed out on that, too.

The tussle between the men continued. Alec managed to pull Ben off his father, and Sheriff Grant dragged Jerome away toward the police boat. He pointed to the
Rita Ann,
and Miriam took that as direction to follow him in the fishing boat.

“Don’t worry,” Alec mouthed to her. “He won’t hurt anyone else.”

In a daze, Miriam let herself be ushered up the ramp and onto the boat, glad she’d had the courage to speak up. Now no other lives would be destroyed.

But poor Ben walking behind her would lose his father to a jail sentence for drugs and murder.

She cast a glance over her shoulder to find Ben escaping from Alec’s hands. He ran off down the beach. Alec took a few steps to go after him, but pulled up short.

He looked at Miriam and said slowly, “He needs to cool off.”

She would have to agree.

The boy had to be so confused and hurt. Miriam wanted to go after him herself, but Ben blamed her for indirectly taking away his father. It was best to let him go for now.

She stood at the boat’s railing while Alec navigated out of the cove. As they entered the sea, she caught sight of Ben standing on a tall, flat rock. He faced her and raised his right hand, formed it into a fist and placed it on his chest. One circular sweep around grabbed her attention as she recognized the sign for
I’m sorry.

Ben had signed to her! No other person on the island had ever tried to speak her language. The fact that it was one of her students made it so much more thrilling.

But why was he sorry? Was he apologizing about the drugs?

Ben had absolutely nothing to be sorry for.

Did he?

FOURTEEN

O
wen exploded out of the pitch-dark passageway through a wooden door. Sunlight blinded his eyes, but that didn’t stop him from searching up and down the beach for Miriam.

Ben sat on a rock, looking out to sea. Owen trudged through the sand to his side. “Where’s Miriam?” he yelled before he reached him.

“How am I supposed to know?” Ben’s defiant answer nearly made Owen reach for the kid with his bare hands.

He could feel himself shaking and balled his hands into fists at his side. “You know exactly where she is,” he spat out. “And you will tell me.”

“No, I won’t. Never.”

“Benjamin, tell Agent Matthews where Ms. Hunter is,” a raspy voice called from behind Owen. “Now.”

Len and Frank emerged from the same wooden door Owen had come through.

“How?” Owen asked.

“There’s a third tunnel that leads to my home,” Frank answered. “I put a camera in there after my son was caught using it to steal from me years ago. We saw you on the video and figured you might need our help.”

In the tunnel, Owen had come to a fork and taken the wrong route. He hadn’t realized his mistake until a padlocked door blocked his path. So much time had been wasted in retracing his steps back to the fork.

So much time for Miriam to be hurt in.

“Grandpa, you don’t understand,” Ben whined. “Because of Ms. Hunter, Dad will go to jail. Uncle Alec said getting rid of her was the only way to make sure Dad didn’t go.”

“Getting rid of her?” Owen choked out. “Where is she?”

Frank held up his yellow-skinned hand. Death was coming fast for the man, but not as fast as for Miriam. “Your dad is not going to jail,” Frank said. “He has done nothing wrong. We have suspected Alec and his expensive tastes of being the cause of the drug problem. We just needed proof. Your father wanted to do his own snooping before alerting the authorities, especially when we figured out Alec might be using you to do some of his dirty work.”

Ben gulped, looking so much younger than his seventeen years. “He told me I had to help him or Dad would get caught and go to jail. He made it sound like Dad was smuggling the drugs. But...but now Ms. Hunter’s still going to put him in jail.”

“For what?”

“For murder. She said Dad killed my mother.”

“Jerome did not kill your mother,” Frank replied.

“Actually,” Owen intervened, “I believe Miriam witnessed a man with a black-and-gold ring with a
T
on it kill a woman in the passageway seventeen years ago.”

“A ring, you say?” Frank’s jowls drooped in sadness. “Before Trudy died, she told us her granddaughter had witnessed something horrifying in that tunnel the last time she visited. When Ms. Hunter didn’t return to live here after the reading of the will, we offered her the principal position to entice her to come. We hoped she would put this to rest before I died. And now it appears she has. It pains me to say, though, that Jerome didn’t have the ring yet. I gave him that ring
after
his wife supposedly left him. I gave it to him after I took it off Alec’s finger for being a disgrace to the family name.” Frank looked back at Ben. “Your dad didn’t kill anyone. But it seems my other son did.”

Ben faced the ocean, his face bleached of color. “Uncle Alec used me?”

“Where...is...Miriam?” Owen demanded again, but he had a sinking feeling he knew.

Ben searched the sea in shaky fear, his unspoken answer loud and clear.

Owen took off for the pier, spraying sand in his wake. “God, I need a boat,” he prayed. “A fast boat.”

* * *

The fishing boat picked up speed, nearly knocking Miriam off her feet. Steadying herself at the railing, she shot a look over her shoulder to Alec. His sunglasses shielded his eyes from her while he faced dead ahead. His jaw was tense, locked in a clench.

Something felt off.

But perhaps the hazardous stones all around them strained his nerves. Even his hands gripped the steering wheel to the point that his knuckles protruded to sharp white points.

Miriam’s gaze fastened on Alec’s hands. She couldn’t take her eyes off them. They looked as familiar to her as her own hands.

A sick feeling churned in her stomach.

These were the hands from her dream.

Miriam shook her head. They couldn’t be, she reasoned. Those hands belonged to Jerome. She had just seen the ring on his hand.

She conjured Jerome’s hand in her mind and remembered thick, short fingers.

Not the long, big-knuckled hands she knew so well.

Not like the ones in front of her.

Miriam lifted her face to the owner of them. Alec’s tense jaw relaxed into an unnerving smirk. Any doubts of his guilt vanished.

Alec had killed the woman. Not Jerome.

The boat jerked to a stop; the change in speed sent her flying backward to the floor, at eye level with a heavy black...
barbell?
Miriam whisked her concentration back to a more pressing matter.

Escape. She had to get off this boat.

The killer headed in her direction. He was coming for her. His stealthy casualness implied her death was near.

Miriam scurried to the edge of the boat. The water would be her only chance of survival. Her strong legs vaulted her up on the railing behind her. She twisted around to dive, only to be yanked back in.

So close,
she thought as Alec flung her to the floor like a rag doll. Pain exploded through her skull. Her head had hit something hard.... Not the floor. The barbell, maybe? Alec loomed over her in bright flashes.

Then everything went black.

* * *

Miriam awakened to find her hands bound with knotted ropes. She didn’t dare jump overboard now.

From the helm, Alec noticed her awake. His lips moved in a blur. She had to compel her mind to pay attention. Her life depended on understanding the plan he had for her. “You...forever silenced... Made...look like accident. Crash...into...rocks. No one...ever find you. Just like Rita Ann. So sad.”

He didn’t look at all sad about the prospect of no one ever finding her body. She was sure he would jump overboard in time. Probably make up an excuse that he didn’t see the rock until it was too late. That was his plan for her. To make her disappear.

Just like Ben’s mother. Just like Jerome’s wife.

Miriam didn’t completely understand how Jerome got the ring. There must have been a family falling-out at some point. Something had happened to cause Alec to lose his father’s blessing.

Miriam understood Alec’s pain of never receiving a parent’s affirmation, but she also understood one was still responsible for one’s actions. Losing his father’s blessing did not give Alec the right to kill Jerome’s wife for restitution.

Miriam pulled her hands up to study the knots, but something stopped them. She followed the rope and saw it linked to the barbell. Now she knew why a weight was on board. If she tried to jump overboard, she would sink to her death. If she stayed on board, she would crash to her death.

Either way, Alec was about to kill again.

The boat coasted through the water. She couldn’t see the direction they were going from her position on the floor, but she knew they were headed for the rocks. She had seconds to get off this boat.

A quick study of the rope attached to the barbell allowed her to get one of the many knots loose before Alec noticed. The next knot was so secure it wouldn’t budge. Aching fingers drilled into the crevices of the rope, fumbling for a weak spot to tear into.

Finally it came free.

With relief, she threaded it through the loop to free her from the weight. A small victory, but not enough to save her—yet. She’d never be able to swim.

Miriam attacked another knot viciously, her head bent.
Come on,
she pushed herself, as she had through her whole life.
You can do this. You can win this. Alec has nothing on your determination.

Just as the knot loosened, pain blasted the side of Miriam’s head. Alec must have noticed her untying his handiwork and rushed her with a swift kick to her temple.

Miriam curled up, trying to embrace her head in her bound hands. She couldn’t stay down, but she also couldn’t remember how to get back up.
Hands. Use your hands.
She directed her body to move.

On her stomach, she pushed her body up to stand in one movement. Alec kicked out again, but she sidestepped, knocking his leg out from under him.

He reached for her waist to stop his fall, or perhaps he was trying to take her down with him. Miriam swung her tied arms again to block his path. He grabbed hold and secured his feet. She wrenched her hands away and stepped back to the railing.

The water moved by in a blur behind her. They were still moving, with no one at the wheel.
Jump,
she told herself. But she would surely drown if she did.

Alec laughed in her face; he had a condescending air that implied this was playtime for him.

Her chest heaved.

He had yet to break a sweat.

He sobered, eyes narrowed to sharp daggers as he shot out a hand to grip her wrist. His hold tightened to a pain that produced black blotches over her eyes. Alec slipped one solid arm around her waist and clamped her against him securely.

Panic ricocheted through her body, sending her writhing in his arms. Her mouth opened wide, and she made an incomprehensible sound. She was too terrified to focus on perfecting an actual word. She sent her legs kicking repeatedly in every direction.

Finally a foot made contact with his knee. Enough to cause her to slip down his side. But it also reminded her to use her legs. They were the strongest part of her body, used to pushing through strong currents when she swam.

He tipped her back over the side of the moving boat. Her soon-to-be watery grave flew by her. The thought of sinking into its perpetual blackness triggered her fight mode.

She brought her leg around to the back of his knee, jamming her heel into the bend. His knee crumpled. She hit his face with the full strength of her arms. Miriam fell to the floor still in Alec’s grasp, but another push allowed her to break away. She scurried back to the bow of the boat, prying at another knot while keeping an eye on him.

Alec laughed again even as he wiped a sleeve across his bloody nose. He got to his feet, sniffing. Amused eyes changed to bored.

Playtime was over.

Another step closer. It was no use. He would reach her long before she’d ever be free of the ropes.

Then his gaze brushed above her head with an expression of confusion. She had no idea what caught his attention behind her and dared not spare a glance to find out. Alec’s face drained of color. In the next second, he careened overboard, leaving her behind. Miriam shot to her feet. One glimpse told her what had sent Alec airborne.

One of the huge stones protruded out from the sea in the direct line of the boat.

Miriam hit the port side, hauling herself up and over in one clean arc. The single loose strand of rope flew in front of her while the blasting impact of wood meeting stone cast her forward from behind.

She wasn’t sure what had made her jump. Her split-second decision on her method of death surprised her. As the frigid northern waters swallowed her, as her burning lungs sliced her from within, she knew she’d chosen the slow and painful route.

As the light of day pulled away from her, Miriam knew she would die in darkness, forever silenced and separated from the world.
Kick,
she told herself while praying for God to find her. To help her. To not leave her here to die alone.
Kick.
She visualized the motion in hopes it would propel her to move.

Miriam pumped her legs, slowly at first, then fast and hard. Her hands reached for the pinpoint of light above. The light grew brighter with each thrust of her legs. She used every last ounce of strength to reach the sunlit circle. With each kick, its circumference widened. It went from a tiny pinpoint to three feet in diameter.

Encouraged by how close the other side appeared, she pumped her legs harder. Their power propelled her up through the tunnel of darkness, closer to the gleaming light. Air beckoned from beyond the glassy portal.

Miriam’s tied hands cut through first. Her mind screamed victory. She would win after all. But then her face failed to breach the surface, skimming frantically below it. Harder kicks proved useless in her attempt to fill her lungs. Without air she would sink back down in a second.

Bright sparkling lights flashed before her. Her mind vaguely registered their meaning.

Loss of oxygen. Pass out. Over.

Miriam could do nothing but accept her failure.
Just one more kick,
she thought in her quiet mind, but her legs went limp. Blackness seeped in and stole her victory away.