Dangerous Melody (17 page)

Maria’s face went sullen. “I loved him, at least I thought I did. He led me to think we were going to be married, but then he changed his mind. I realize now he never really loved me at all.”

Stephanie didn’t voice the truth.
He didn’t. He isn’t capable of it.
“He’s got my father and...” Her voice failed as she thought of Victor.

Maria moved closer, and Stephanie could see honest
regret in the lines around her mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry. I had no idea he would force you into helping him.” She paused. “Or maybe I did know, deep down. Our last fight was about you. I sneaked into his office and found a whole display of pictures of you. It was almost like a shrine or something.” Her eyes flashed. “I told him that things had to change now—he had to let go of his sick fascination
with you.”

Stephanie closed her eyes. “He’ll never let me go,” she whispered.

“That’s what he told me. Then he threw me out.”

Stephanie’s anger ebbed away, leaving a numb horror in its wake. “Maria, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see the truth about him at first, either. I wish I’d never introduced the two of you.”

She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter now. I knew that his precious violin
had surfaced. It seemed like the perfect way to get back at him and start a new life.”

“But Eugene didn’t want to part with the violin, did he?”

“No. That doesn’t matter anymore, anyway. Tate told me that Ricardo is a murderer, so I came to warn Eugene.” Her eyes glimmered in the lantern light. “He’s a bad guy. Eugene said Ricardo was here in Lunkville, sniffing around. We decided to
wait it out here until he left.”

Stephanie noticed a window, one pane of glass broken and the rest glazed with dirt. She walked over, stood on a crate and peered out, looking for any sign of Eugene or Tate. “Did Eugene have the violin with him? Was it in his backpack?”

Maria laughed. “You know, Eugene is a little slow in some ways, but he’s as crafty as they come.”

“How’s that?”

Maria walked over to the corner and pushed the backpack aside. She loosened a floorboard and pulled something out of the space below. Grinning, she held the violin case in her hand. “Tate is chasing after a guy with a backpack full of peanut butter and jelly.”

Stephanie felt a surge of relief so strong that it almost brought her to her knees. Sucking in a breath and fighting back tears,
she managed a smile. They’d found it, the one chance to save her father’s life. She took a step toward Maria, when suddenly a gunshot exploded through the air.

Stephanie watched in horror as Maria crumpled to the filthy floor.

EIGHTEEN

T
ate sprinted after Eugene until the man came to an abrupt stop at the mouth of what must have been a mine shaft. It was covered over with weathered boards, except for a V-shaped gap. Eugene stood with his face to the wood, one trembling hand pressed there. Tate reached out and tugged the ragged hem of Eugene’s shirt, causing him to whirl around. His eyes were round, mouth
open to suck in gasping breaths.

“He’s here, he’s here,” Eugene wheezed.

A gunshot rang out.

Only one, and the night slipped back into silence.

Ricardo? Had he found Stephanie? Tate’s mind wheeled between the echoing sound and the man before him. “I need the violin, Eugene. Please.”

“No. It’s mine. I have to keep it safe.” He stabbed a dirty finger at the warehouse. “From
him.”

Tate moved forward as Eugene eased back.

“Where did you hide it, Eugene? Is it in your backpack?”

Eugene shook his head violently. “It’s in a safe hiding place, with a friend.”

Tate felt his gut tighten. “Your friend is a girl, right? With dark hair? Her name is Maria, and she’s my sister. If you gave her the violin, then someone is after her, too. Is that what you want?”

Eugene’s eyes clouded, shifting from Tate’s face to the warehouse and back to Tate.

“Go back,” he whispered. “She’s in there.”

Tate looked toward the building where he’d left Stephanie, where his sister might very well be holed up. Eugene used the moment of hesitation to disappear into a gap between the boards covering the entrance to a defunct mine shaft.

Stomach twisted in
terror, Tate left off his pursuit of Eugene and ran as fast as he could over the uneven ground, back to the warehouse. All the while he tortured himself with thoughts of what had happened. He’d left Stephanie behind, with Ricardo somewhere close by. If she was hit... Her perfect face rose in his memory, laughing eyes, glinting with life, heart filled with lion-size courage. She could not be dead.
He would not allow himself to think it. Nor would he imagine similar things happening to Maria.

He pushed faster until he pulled up at the back door, panting and shirt damp with sweat. It had been opened, the mark of booted feet showing clearly in the loose dirt. Moving as quickly as he dared, he retraced the route they had followed moments before, stopping every few feet to listen. He thought
he caught the echo of a shoe on the hard floor.

Stephanie. His heart pounded a frantic rhythm, and he prayed with every step.

Please keep her safe.

Even though her heart would never belong to him again, he knew at that moment he would lay down his life for hers.

Just hang on, Steph.

From outside the building, he got the crazy notion he’d heard a helicopter somewhere close
by. Maybe Sartori had returned like she’d promised, with reinforcements. Hope burned hot in his gut.

There was a blur of movement from behind a pile of rusted metal. A bullet cut through the air by his head. He threw himself to the ground, belly first. Another shot followed, ricocheting off the metal cart and pinging upward, sending the mice swarming in all directions along the rafters. His
breath disturbed swirls of dust on the ground, and he tried not to inhale.

“Hey, boy,” Ricardo called out. “Didn’t think you’d make it.”

Tate looked around, knowing that the longer he stayed in one spot, the easier he would be for Ricardo to shoot.

“You are not going to take what’s mine,” Ricardo growled.

Tate scooted under the cover of a tower of dilapidated wooden crates,
his mind racing. He had to get to Stephanie, and the only way was to keep Ricardo talking until he could figure out how to take him down. “The violin isn’t yours. You tried to steal it from Hans Bittman. It never belonged to you.”

Ricardo snorted. “I did the work, I planned the theft. I even burned down the building to cover it up, and then what do I find?” Ricardo snapped out the words as
Tate kept moving, now ducking behind a deteriorating steel barrel. “Some homeless guy runs off into the woods with the Guarneri, and I’m left with an empty case and arson on my plate.”

“And murder,” Tate yelled. “Don’t forget the fire killed Peter Bittman, and it was you who killed Devlin, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. I wanted him to tell me about Eugene, but he refused. Things got out of hand.”
Ricardo laughed. “I’ll give you points for persistence, boy. I thought the spike stick would slow you down until I finished up here.”

“You let Eugene slip away with the Guarneri. Bad mistake.”

“The violin is mine!” Ricardo roared. “I will have it back.”

“And then what?” Tate asked, trying to get a fix on Ricardo’s location. “You’ll kill Eugene because he witnessed you set the fire
all those years ago?” There was no answer, and Tate stared into the darkness, his nerves screaming. “Well, now there are more people who know the truth. You can’t kill us all.”

The chilling silence lingered, and then Ricardo’s reply came from somewhere above Tate. “Oh, yes I can, boy. And I will,” he heard, just before the tower of crates crashed down on top of him.

* * *

Keeping
low, Stephanie tried to tend to Maria, whom she had dragged behind a stack of palettes. She’d done her best to secure the door, wedging a piece of wood under the jamb. If Ricardo climbed through the window, there was not much she would be able to do about it, but the window was small and it would be an awkward entry.

Breath coming in pants, she held the flashlight close to the whimpering
Maria. Tears streaked the girl’s face.

“It’s okay. Let me see where you’re hurt.”

“My side,” Maria moaned. “Oh, Steph. Is it deep?” Abject terror shone in Maria’s eyes, and Stephanie raised her shirt as gently as she could. The wound was just below the ribs, and though Stephanie was no nurse, she did not think it was deep, but rather a shallow laceration caused by the bullet grazing
her. A hole in the back of the garment told her it had passed through. She breathed out in relief.

“It’s not bad,” she said, taking off her jacket to tie around Maria’s waist in an effort to stop the bleeding. As she did so, her fingers grazed the soft swell of Maria’s belly. The truth dawned on her in one blinding flash. Maria was indeed trying to start a brand-new life, but not just for
herself.

“Maria, are you...?”

Maria’s eyes locked on Stephanie’s and she nodded, a fresh flow of tears painting trails on her dirty face. “I thought he would be happy, but he didn’t want the baby. He kicked me out and called me a tramp. I was going to get us a fresh start.”

Stephanie held Maria’s hand, swallowing her sadness at Maria’s clumsy attempts to take responsibility for
her unborn child. This poor misguided girl was going to be a mother, if they made it out alive. The stakes had just risen even higher—if that was possible. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” There was the thump of a booted foot on the door.

Maria let out a little yelp.

“Open up,” Ricardo barked. Maria and Stephanie froze in terror.

“I’m coming to get my violin.”

Stephanie
looked around frantically for an exit. There was no back door, and the window would be impossible for Maria to climb through since she’d been shot.

A fist slammed into the door. “I’ve got plenty of bullets and lots of time. Open the door, and I’ll make it quick for both of you.”

Stephanie raced around the small room, thinking there had to be something she’d overlooked, something they
could use to defend themselves, when Ricardo pushed through the door. Tate’s small knife would be useless against a gun. Searching desperately for some sort of hiding place, her eyes were drawn to a square cut into the floor. It was the faint outline of a trapdoor.

Her eager fingers found an indentation that must have served as a handle. She yanked on it with all her strength. At first, it
did not budge. Then with a groan, it came loose and Stephanie hauled it upward. The space below was ink dark and cold—some sort of basement, she guessed.

She hurried back to Maria. “I’m not sure it will help. We could find ourselves trapped down there with no way out.”

“It will buy us some time,” Maria whispered. “Until Tate comes back.”

For a moment she thought she heard the sound
of a helicopter, but she could not be sure over the pounding of her heart. She felt a thrill of fear picturing Tate walking into the warehouse with Ricardo lying in wait, but she could think of no other option. Returning to the edge of the opening with the flashlight, she saw a sloping set of stairs. “Can you manage it, Maria?”

Maria was already crawling toward the opening, one hand clutching
the violin case. After a moment to steady themselves, Stephanie started down first, her flashlight making only a minuscule dent in the oppressive darkness. Cobwebs brushed her face, and she thought about the hundreds of mice she’d seen earlier. Putting them firmly out of her mind, she tried to support Maria, who clung to her arm as they made their unsteady way down fifteen steps, testing each
one gingerly first. Mercifully the wood held, and when they got to the bottom, Stephanie raced back up the steps and pulled the trapdoor closed from the inside. There was no way to lock it. Ricardo would find them, but perhaps not right away.

What would happen to Tate? As she rejoined Maria, she suddenly remembered Sartori’s radio. Pulling it out of her back pocket, she was dismayed to find
that it appeared to be dead. “The basement,” she groaned. “It won’t work down here.”

Maria gave a half sob and Stephanie put an arm around her, trying to lend some warmth back into her shivering body. She checked the makeshift bandage as best she could by flashlight, pleased to see that the blood had not begun to seep through the cloth.

She felt Maria’s terrified gaze on her. “Bandage
is holding,” she said with forced optimism. “Now let’s find a way out of here.”

Leaving Maria leaning against the wall to catch her breath, Stephanie explored the basement.

It was a small rectangular space, with cement walls. A series of pipes ran along the ceiling, and the floor was damp. Water dripped from cracks in the rock ceiling, indicating there was some source of groundwater
nearby. Stephanie realized that she was becoming more chilled with every moment. Pushing aside her growing fear, she held the light as high as she could, searching for an exit.

Maria screamed, and she scrambled to her. “Something crawled over my feet.”

“Mice, I think.” Stephanie wished she had another jacket to give Maria. She worried the girl would go into shock or start bleeding profusely
if the bullet wound was deeper than Stephanie had realized. Certainly the cold and fear was not good for Maria or her baby. “We’ll get out of here soon. Let me check around some more.”

Maria gave a shaky nod, cradling the violin, and Stephanie resumed her search. Her heart leaped when she saw a metal door, tucked behind a stack of bricks. The handle didn’t budge when she turned it. She did
not know if it was rusted shut or locked, but no matter how hard she tried, she succeeded only in loosening flakes of paint from the surface of the steel.

“Stephanie,” Maria whispered. “I heard something.”

Stephanie’s stomach lurched. “Mice?”

“I don’t think so.”

The muffled sound of a gunshot filtered down to them. Stephanie’s eyes locked in terror on Maria’s.

Maria’s
hand went to her mouth. “Tate?”

Stephanie fought down the panic. “No. No, I’m sure it’s not Tate. Maybe Ricardo is shooting through the door.”

“Then he’ll be down here in a few minutes. What are we going to do?”

Well, we’re not going to give up,
she thought, gritting her teeth. She prowled the space again, once more throwing her weight against the door until her shoulder ached.
It still refused to give even the tiniest bit.

“Look for something we can use as a weapon.” She had Tate’s knife in her pocket, but she did not want to have to get close enough to use it unless it was a last resort. Stephanie poked around the piles of debris until she came up with a section of a metal pole. It was not sharp, but it would do as a club since nothing better was at hand.

Stephanie pulled Maria behind the pile of bricks. It was a scant four feet high, but it was the only shelter available. Maria’s lips were trembling as Stephanie tucked her behind the brick screen.

“Stay there. I’m going to stand at the bottom of the stairs, in the shadows. I’ll trip him up or knock him out if I’m able to. Be ready to get up the stairs as fast as you can, okay?”

Maria
shook her head. “I can’t. I’m scared. I’m too scared.”

Stephanie put her hands on Maria’s shoulders to quell the mounting hysteria she heard in the girl’s voice. “You can do it. You’re tough, like your brother.”

She didn’t answer, so Stephanie bent her head to look Maria right in the eye. “Just get up the ladder and run. Find a place to hide.”

Maria half sobbed. “Stephanie, what
will happen to you?”

Stephanie forced a smile. “I’m tough, too, like
my
brothers. I’ll meet you when I can.”

“But what should I do with the violin?”

“Get it to Luca if you can. What’s most important is that you make it out alive.”

Maria caught Stephanie’s hand before she moved away. “I’m really sorry. I’m so stupid. Forgive me.”

“Forget it, Maria. You’re forgiven as far
as I’m concerned.” Stephanie was comforted to know that she really meant it. It was a sweet feeling to truly forgive. She thought about Tate.

Because every day I ask God to help me keep that bottle closed...

And she realized in that moment that she had never asked God to help her forgive Tate, because she’d never wanted to. Being angry at him, resurrecting the past every time she thought
of him, allowed her to keep from being hurt again.

Allowed her to hide from the pain, like he had hidden, buried deep in drugs.

A crash from above made them both jerk. Grasping her makeshift weapon, she gave Maria one final squeeze before she scurried to the stairwell. She paused to tuck the flashlight on top of a box and turned it on, the beam illuminating only the last few steps before
she hid herself in the shadows at the foot of the staircase.