Deadly Harvest

“No! Go back and tell Joe.”

 

 

She nodded unhappily and left, and he bent low, following the tunnel. They had checked out the cemetery, Joe had told him, and there were no hidden tunnels there.

 

And this tunnel didn’t lead to the cemetery. It led to a sewer line.

 

And the sewer line led to the street adjacent to the cemetery.

 

He clambered up the ladder to the street and stared at the cemetery.

 

He jumped when Eve climbed out behind him. “I told Joe,” she hurried to say before he had a chance to get mad at her. “But there’s something there,” she breathed, staring at the old graveyard.

 

“Go back. Tell Joe that Dan took her out through here and is probably already back at the property. Zach is on his way, but they have to get the cops out there right away.”

 

“All right. But remember this. Love is stronger than evil, and there is more than you know in this world….”

 

She left, and he started running for his car.

 

But then he paused.

 

The boy was in the cemetery. Billy. And he was beckoning him closer.

 

Despite his panic for Rowenna, Jeremy walked into the cemetery. He couldn’t help himself. There were people around, but he didn’t bother to ask them if they had seen a man trying to kidnap a woman. He walked straight to Billy.

 

And this time Billy didn’t disappear.

 

The boy took his hand and mouthed the same word he had spoken from the stony ground near where the five women had been found.

 

Hurry.

 

Jeremy felt the rush of the wind. He was no longer in the cemetery. He was on a hill, corpses hanging from a nearby gallows, and the sound of mocking laughter came to his ears. Somehow he knew that the corpses swaying in the wind belonged to innocents who had died so that evil might rule.

 

The hill faded away, and he found himself in the cornfields, fields that seemed to stretch forever.

 

He started running, his feet hitting solid ground. He smashed through the stalks as he ran, until finally he burst out of the corn and into the field of bracken granite.

 

Billy was still there, holding his hand, and now the boy tugged until he started running again.

 

Because Billy knew where they were going.

 

 

 

Rowenna managed to find a sharp stone and run the rope holding her hands back and forth over the edge until she had cut through it. As soon as her hands were free, she untied the rope binding her ankles and rose as quietly as she could, then inched her way through the murky darkness to the wall. The place was filled with debris, littered with the dirt of centuries, and the only light came from the direction from which the voices had come earlier. On the far side of the room, she could see another woman lying, bound hand and foot as she had been bound.

 

Ginny’s voice. Because Ginny was part of this. She still couldn’t believe it. Why?

 

“Mary?” she dared to whisper.

 

For a moment, there was silence. Then a whimper, as if Mary had tried to keep silent but hadn’t been able to control her fear.

 

Mary was probably afraid to speak, Rowenna thought. No doubt she had long ago realized that Ginny was not a kindly old lady there to rescue her, and now she was frightened of all new voices.

 

Rowenna felt her way along the wall, which was damp and covered with algae, toward Mary, moving carefully to avoid making any noise that would alert Dan and Ginny that she had gotten free.

 

She passed a chink in the stone of the wall, which she recognized as the foundation of an old house, and the pale glimmer of light reaching through illuminated a tray of food that was currently giving sustenance to a large rat.

 

Finally she reached Mary and saw that the rope around her ankles was anchored to an iron ring hanging attached to a beam overhead. She swore under her breath, then prayed that Mary wouldn’t cry out.

 

“Mary, please don’t scream,” she whispered. “I’m a friend of Jeremy Flynn’s. My name is Rowenna.”

 

She heard a gasp and moved closer. Mary was pale and gaunt. Her face was dirt-streaked, the look in her eyes tortured. She was decked out like a doll—or a scarecrow. There were even tufts of straw sticking out from the cuffs of the denim pants she wore. Beneath the grime, her face was painted up to look like a harlequin.

 

Mary just stared at her, eyes huge and wide, as if she had no strength left at all.

 

Rowenna felt her nails break as she worked frantically at the knots of Mary’s bonds, but they had been well-tied and pulled tighter by Mary’s struggles. At last she freed Mary from the ropes.

 

But they still had to get out.

 

And she didn’t even know how they had gotten in.

 

Plus it looked as if she would have to carry Mary, who lacked the strength to stand. And the other woman looked as if she weighed practically nothing, but she would still be a burden.

 

She had just heaved the unprotesting other woman over her shoulder when she heard footsteps.

 

Ginny and Dan were coming.