Arcadias pivoted around. “It wasn’t a premeditated murder.”

Keith Jepson jumped back into the conversation. “Whether it was premeditated or not, it doesn’t really matter. Special Circumstances in a murder charge can often result in the imposition of the death penalty. Such circumstances can include kidnapping, wanton disregard for human life, and killing a police officer. I believe you have covered all three of those circumstances.”

Arcadias whirled back around to face Jepson. “I thought you said you were a family law attorney.”

“I used to be a criminal law attorney. But I got tired of defending people like you; people that I knew were guilty. So I switched to family law so I could help honest people like Jon and Annie.”

Rafter briefly closed his eyes. First Ned, and now Keith Jepson and Annie were piling on Arcadias. Couldn’t they see the fuse on Arcadias was already lit?

Arcadias turned to his brother. “We need to find this secret room ASAP. But to do that we need to tie our captive’s feet to the furniture. I don’t want them walking away when we’re distracted.”

“I don’t have any rope, Arcadias.”

Arcadias walked over to a lamp sitting on an end table. He pulled the lamp free from the socket. “We can use electrical cord in place of rope. We just need to gather up enough of it. And that shouldn’t be hard in a house this big.”

Damien nodded and started scavenging for cords. Rafter watched him go. Where are you, Lord? I can’t feel your presence. Come into this room and fill it up. We desperately need you to perform a miracle.

Chapter 33

His left eyelid fluttered open first. A moment later Josiah Barrett’s other eyelid opened. Barrett looked around but couldn’t see much. The view from his awkward position negated his vision.

He lay facedown on a soapstone walkway near the front steps, his legs and feet pointed up toward the gallery. Blood pooled around his midsection.

How did I get here? Did I fall down the steps?

And then his fuzzy brain remembered what happened. Arcadias shot him.

I wonder if I can move. Barrett concentrated on his extremities, sending signals to them. He wiggled his fingers, and then both feet. At least he knew now his spine hadn’t been severed.

He remembered how he’d turned to walk down the steps when Arcadias shot him. Two bullets entered his ribcage on his right side. The third bullet entered his lower back near his liver.

He should’ve never turned his back. Clearly he’d underestimated the ex-history professor. He never suspected Arcadias to be a sociopath. And his carelessness would likely cost him his life. Unless he could get to his squad car and radio for help, he would die tonight. Blood gushed from his side and stomach.

Barrett rolled onto his side and viewed his stomach. He saw a bloody hole just above his navel. He quickly pressed a hand over the hole to staunch the blood flow. It didn’t work very well. Blood leached around and over his trembling fingers.

Oddly enough he felt little pain. The dying process wasn’t nearly as painful or scary as he thought it would be. It was the part following death that worried him—the great unknown. Did he really have a soul that continued to live? Was there really a place called hell? If hell truly existed he was in big trouble.

Barrett had been a bad cop for a long time. He’d served on a police force in seven different towns, and took bribes and used his badge to illegally make money in each town. He became a pro at deception, a master at covering his tracks. Never once had he been caught or even suspected of wrongdoing.

In one town he allowed a drug dealer to sell pot and meth to middle school kids in exchange for kickbacks. The kickbacks made a nice little supplement to his income there. But he eventually moved on. That was the key—move on to another town before someone suspects you.

He felt guilty about it now though. In the back of his mind he could still see some of the kids’ faces as they filed out of the school. The kids were grown up now, but some might be addicts now. And he played a major part in their addiction.

There’s no getting around it, I’m a scumbag. And I deserve this.

Barrett started to crawl toward his squad car. To do so he needed both arms to push off and help him. When he lifted his right hand from his stomach the blood squirted out unchecked. He crawled forward in the grass for a few feet and stopped to rest. He immediately plugged the bullet hole as he rested.

Weird sensations took over his senses as he lay in the grass. He could feel the rhythms of the earth vibrating against his body, almost like the ground possessed an actual heartbeat. And he could hear every insect skittering in the grass, chirping and calling out to attract a mate. It was as if he were watching a nature show on television and had the volume turned all the way up.

Someone in the house must have turned a light on. The front yard had been dark and murky only seconds ago. Now a scintillating light bathed the yard, setting it alight. It was as if an atom bomb exploded. Barrett could see every blade of grass sparkle under the intense light. The sight was oddly beautiful. He never thought grass could amaze him so.

But the light made him feel exposed. If Arcadias looked out a window he would see him crawling toward the squad car. He might come out and shoot him again. Barrett almost said a prayer for protection. But then he remembered he hadn’t said a prayer since his childhood. He didn’t quite know how to go about it.

The light isn’t going out. Forget about it, he told himself. Get to the car.

The squad car sat about thirty feet away, but seemed thirty miles away. He wished now he would’ve parked next to the steps. But for some reason he parked at a distance in the circle drive.

Barrett gathered his legs underneath him and pushed up with his hands. With great effort he made it to all fours. I can do this, he thought. Holding his stomach, he stood to his feet and lurched forward like a drunken sailor. His head swam. The ground and sky spun crazily. He lost his balance and toppled over, sprawling out onto his left side and shoulder.

The light intensified even more. He didn’t understand the luminescence at all. The puzzling light shone too intensely to be a mere porch light or street light. And the light appeared brightest near the squad car.

As his life faded, breathing became more difficult. His lungs functioned at only a small percentage. And like a butterfly leaving a cocoon, he felt like he was detaching from the inside out. Maybe I do have a soul. And it’s trying to leave my body.

Barrett tilted his head and stared at his squad car. For the first time he could see something glittering inside the light. A form almost humanlike stood in the light near his car.

Barrett opened his mouth. A strangled cry escaped his throat. What he saw didn’t reside on earth. His bulging eyes witnessed something supernatural. The word, “angel,” popped into his mind.

If angels existed, then there must be a God and a heaven. And if there were angels, there must also be demons and Satan, which meant a hell, terrible and gruesome, also existed somewhere.

Barrett closed his eyes and reopened them, hoping the angelic being might have departed. But the angel hadn’t left his post by the squad car. And his tall form grew more distinct within the light. He towered over the vehicle. Barrett could see the angel wore a blinding white garment. The angel looked directly at Barrett; his beautiful blue eyes didn’t blink.

He’s here for me, Barrett thought. He’s going to take me somewhere. And yet the death angel didn’t move. He stood resolutely by the squad car and waited…waited for Barrett to come to him.