Chapter Thirteen

 

“Jesus.” Steve stared around the room, shocked by what he saw. Mirrors, costumes, and a huge eight-foot folding table piled high with makeup, Styrofoam heads with wigs, and an assortment of beards and mustaches.

“Looks like Jim Henson threw up in here,” Doc murmured, picking up a familiar blue-tinted, curly wig. “Well, I think it’s safe to say we found the connection. Gotta say, I didn’t see that one coming.”

“How do you want to play this, Smoke?”

Steve shot a glance at the building manager, who looked like he had just entered the Twilight Zone. That made four of them. “Why don’t you take care of calling the cops?” Steve suggested.

“Yeah, yeah. Good idea. Uh, what should I tell them?”

“Tell them the truth. You received a call from a concerned resident and came up to check on Mrs. Himmelwright.”

“Right.”

“Probably best to call from your office. Don’t want to touch anything that might be evidence.”

“Yeah, evidence. Good point. What about you guys?”

“No need to mention us. We were just here to provide backup in case you needed it.”

The building manager pulled his eyes away from the costumes and props to look at the three men surrounding him. Realization dawned in his eyes. “Hey, are you guys special ops or something?”

“Or something,” Church said vaguely.

“I knew it! Well, you can count on me.” Dave stood taller. “Private David Yocum, National Guard, at your service.”

“At ease, Private,” Church said, his voice commanding and authoritative. “Five minutes is all we need.”

“Understood, sir.”

Doc smiled after the building manager left. “Laid it on a bit thick there, didn’t you, sir?”

Church’s lips quirked. “Okay, let’s do a quick sweep and see what this crazy bastard left for us to find.”

Steve wasted no time. The layout was exactly the same as his apartment. He headed for the bedroom, his stomach roiling when he flipped on the light and saw the walls plastered in pictures of Sam. Sam at the coffee shop. Sam stepping out of the building. Sam on her balcony, sipping tea.

Forcing the panic down, he looked for something, anything that might provide a clue as to where he had taken her, but found nothing. Doc and Church hadn’t had much luck, either.

Church’s phone chimed, breaking the silence.

“It’s Cage.” He raised it up to his ear. “Church. Got it. On our way.”

“Tell me something good,” Steve said.

“Tex came through. He thinks he knows where we can find Cavatelli.”

Thank God.

Steve was certain that when they found Cavatelli, they would find Sam. Cavatelli’s future was bleak at best, but if even one hair on Sam’s head had been harmed, Cavatelli was going to experience firsthand the extreme prejudice of a pissed off Navy SEAL.

“He’s mine.”

They made plans to meet up at Church’s in thirty minutes. After a brief stop at Steve’s apartment to pick up some of his favorite toys, they were on the road before the cops arrived.

He wasn’t the only one who had grabbed his toys. By the time they made it to the trailer, the others were already there, dressed in tactical gear, armed and ready.

“Sounds like little Anthony was even more fucked up than we thought,” Heff said after reading the reports Cage had forwarded to them. “Being a pyro is just the tip of the iceberg. He’s a delusional psychopath, too.”

“How the hell did they let this guy out?” Mad Dog mused.

“He’s a delusional psycho, but apparently, an accomplished actor, as well,” Doc told them. “You should have seen his place. The guy probably had two dozen different identities. Convincing a couple of overworked docs he had it under control was undoubtedly easy.”

“Add in an overcrowded, underfunded state facility, and they were probably only too happy to believe he’d changed and showed him the door.”

That was all great, but they could discuss this on the road. Steve’s skin felt tight, and his adrenaline was pumping. They needed to go.

“So, where is he now?” he asked impatiently.

“According to Tex, Cavatelli’s first couple of years were spent with his mom in a small mining town about a hundred miles northwest of here. The town’s abandoned now. Everyone was evacuated when they discovered the underground mines were on fire and there was no way to put them out. Tex turned a couple of satellites that way and says there are signs of possible activity up there.”

“Holy shit, the guy can control satellites? I thought you said he was a civilian.”

“I never said that,” Cage said. “I said he wasn’t an active duty SEAL.”

“Might just be kids or thrill seekers,” Heff interjected.

“Maybe, but it’s the best lead we have right now.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Anxious to get out of the cramped quarters and be on their way, Steve pushed open the door and pointed his boots in the direction of the vehicles.

“Smoke.” Church stepped in front of him. “I know this is personal for you, man. I need to know where your head’s at.”

Resisting the urge to move him out of the way, Steve reminded himself that Church had been their team leader. “My head is just fine. And I could ask you the same thing. You got history with Cavatelli, too.”

A muscle ticked in Church’s jaw. “Point taken. Let’s go get your woman and take care of this son of a bitch once and for all.”

* * *

“Aren’t they beautiful?” Anthony asked, sweeping his hand toward the fireplace. He sat on the sofa beside her, close but not uncomfortably so. Half of the ham and cheese hoagie he had made for them to share remained untouched on the TV tray table in front of her.

“The way they dance like that, it’s mesmerizing. I make them dance. They’re dancing for you, you know. They’re happy for us. You should eat.”

He was nuts. Certifiably insane. He stayed calm, though, as long as she didn’t do or say anything to upset him.

“Don’t worry, Samantha; you’re safe here. I’ll take care of you. No one will bother us.”

“No one?” she asked. They were in a boarded-up house, so maybe there were other houses around, too. Chances for help. “What about neighbors?”

He chuckled, his eyes glistening again. “Gone. They’re all gone.”

Oh, God. The sips of water she had forced down threatened to make a dramatic reappearance. “Did you …?”

It took a moment for him to grasp what she was asking. When he did, his eyes widened. “No, of course not. But I suppose I am responsible, in a way.”

“I don’t understand.”

“No, I can see that,” he said, leaning forward as if to share a great secret. “This town was once called Miner’s Hollow. It’s abandoned now.”

Miner’s Hollow. She had heard of the town. It had made national news years earlier, right about the time she went to live with her grandparents. It was a mountain town, known for its rich veins of anthracite coal. However, the actual mines had closed down a long time ago, well before the underground fires, but the tunnels remained. Somehow, a fire had started down there and spread. By the time the fires were discovered, they had spread too far, resisting any and all attempts to contain it.

Experts said, with the nearly inexhaustible fuel supply, it would take more than a hundred years to simply burn itself out and would become increasingly hazardous to the residents. As a result, the government paid pennies on the dollar to buy up the properties and forcibly evacuate everyone within a fifty-mile radius. Roads had been closed and bridges destroyed to discourage the curious from poking around.

Her hopes faded. If that was truly where they were, it was unlikely anyone would find them.

“I didn’t start the fires intentionally,” Anthony was saying. “Well, I mean, I did”—he grinned shyly—“but I never imagined the possibilities. I hated this town, hated everyone in it. My mother grew up here, but you wouldn’t know it by the way they treated her. Treated me. I’m glad they’re all gone. Now we have the whole place to ourselves.”

“I remember seeing pictures on TV,” Sam said, her mind whirling. “Smoke coming up through cracks in the ground; the nearby forests glowing red at night. Like hell on earth, they called it.”

His expression grew stormy, and he clenched his fists. “No, Samantha, hell is living in a world where people don’t understand you. Where they hate you because you’re special.” Just as suddenly, his face cleared. “But not you, Samantha. You saw me. And now we can be happy together.”

“We can’t stay here, Anthony,” she said, striving to keep her voice calm and rational, even as the panic tried to gain hold. “There’s no electricity, no heat.”

“The fire will provide,” he said confidently. “You and I, we’re going to live a simpler life. We can grow our own vegetables; did you know that mixing ash and dirt creates an ideal garden bed? And I’ll hunt for us. There are lots of game in the woods now that the people are gone, and I’m an excellent shot. We can roast fresh meat on a spit, just like they did in the old days.” His eyes lit up with the possibilities. “Mountain-fed spring water, too. Best you’ve ever tasted.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know much about surviving in the wilderness.”

He patted her arm, and she fought not to recoil. “Don’t worry, Samantha; I’ll teach you everything you need to know. I’ve been doing it for years. We’ll be like pioneers!”

“But surely, we’ll be missed,” Sam said weakly. “Someone will come looking for us.” God, please let someone come looking for us.

“Don’t you worry your pretty head, Samantha. I’ve taken care of everything.”

The certainty in his voice was chilling. “What do you mean, Anthony? What have you taken care of?”

“Everyone who tried to keep us apart is gone now. Your grandparents, Mr. Santori, that guy who wouldn’t leave you alone.”

Oh, God. “The fires. It was you.”

He nodded. “I did it for you, Samantha. For us. Just like those people at the resort who were going to make us leave. And your grandparents—they wouldn’t tell me where you were. Mr. Santori hurt you when he cheated you like that. He had to pay.”

Sam felt as if her entire world had tilted on its axis. “And Steve?”

Anthony grinned. “I made a little adjustment to his brakes, that’s all. The fire in the apartment building, though, that was all you.”