Annie didn’t whisper back to him. Instead she slid some jackets to the side. Her action revealed the answer to his question. The closet had another door. They could exit this door and be on the other side of the stairs, opposite the person descending the stairs, provided said person entered the parlor. They were basically playing hide and seek—albeit a potentially deadly version.
Annie cracked the door. A light sliver shone into the closet. To Rafter the light sliver seemed as bright and revealing as a searchlight, and it made him think of his old haunt.
As a cop back in New York, he’d worked many New Year’s Eve celebrations. There in Times Square in Manhattan, searchlights crisscrossed the night sky as revelers counted down the old year and welcomed in a new one.
Several tense seconds elapsed; Annie cracked the door a little more. More light filtered into the closet. Rafter could see Annie’s sapphire eyes. He didn’t think they’d ever appeared as blue as now. And at this moment he realized how much he loved her. Help me keep my vow, Lord. You know the one, the vow I pledged to Annie on our honeymoon. Please help me protect Annie and keep her alive. She’s going to make a great mother. She just needs to make it through this night.
Annie turned her head and looked at him. She mouthed the words, “Let’s go.” He nodded his agreement. Annie pushed the door open slowly. Rafter prayed the hinges wouldn’t squeak. He couldn’t remember ever using this door. Luckily the door opened silently, protecting their position.
Rafter closed the door with as much caution as Annie opened it. And they stood in the hallway at the halfway point; their hands still shackled with plastic flex cuffs. Annie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Rafter winked at her.
They turned toward their right and slinked for the door. But then they hear rapid footsteps approaching from this direction and altered course. They jogged down the hallway in the opposite direction, passed the bathroom and rounded a corner and stopped. A mural of an angel standing guard at the empty tomb kept them company. Rafter hoped a similar angel was with them now and protecting them from Damien and Arcadias. The Charbonneau brothers surely knew something was up by now, and that their hostages had fled the parlor.
Rafter mouthed “back door” and motioned his head toward the kitchen. Annie nodded and they crept toward the kitchen. They entered the room, dark except for a dim light burning from underneath a cupboard. He and Annie suddenly froze when they again heard rapid footsteps. A flash of movement caught Rafter’s eyes. He saw Damien running toward them, a gun in his hands.
His first instinct urged him to run, but Rafter spied a fire extinguisher on the wall right next to him. He lifted up his bound hands in unison and grabbed the fire extinguisher by its handle and lifted it from the wall.
Damien ducked behind the island, fearful of getting sprayed with a fire-squelching agent. Rafter crowded Annie, pushing her back the way they came, and they left the kitchen. They rounded the corner and stopped. Once again the angel sentinel in the mural looked down at them.
Painting this particular mural had been a struggle for him, more so than all the other murals. No one knows for sure what an angel looks like, and he’d painted over several versions before finding satisfaction. The angel’s wings gave him fits, and he finally removed them.
Rafter set the extinguisher can on the floor and pulled out the safety pin, arming the extinguisher. He manipulated the nozzle; drawing in the hose and bunching it up near the handle where he could control both the trigger and nozzle with his bound hands. He then lifted the extinguisher can back up. His right index finger caressed the trigger without applying pressure.
Rafter swiveled his head back and forth, watching both ends of the hallway for the gun-toting Damien. His heart thundered like stampeding cattle. They couldn’t stay in this static position much longer without dooming themselves.
Rafter tried to put himself in Damien’s shoes. Which way would Damien expect them to go? If Damien thought they would race back down the hallway to the front door, he would likely circle back around from that direction to cut them off.
Or maybe Damien thought they might pull off the unexpected and circle back into the kitchen for the back door. He could be waiting to ambush them just around the corner.
Annie looked at him expectantly. She awaited his lead. He sucked in a deep breath and headed back toward the kitchen. Annie followed him closely.
Rafter crept on the balls of his shoeless feet. He was sure Annie did the same. He couldn’t hear her at all over his thudding heart, but knew she shadowed him.
Rafter rounded the corner and collided into Damien. He nearly cried out in surprise, but quickly recovered when Damien lifted his Taurus handgun and aimed it at him. Rafter squeezed the trigger on the fire extinguisher, aiming the nozzle at Damien’s face.
Damien’s eyes grew large just before a thick cloud of fire-squelching propellant enveloped him. Damien doubled over and started coughing. Rafter lifted the half-empty can up even with his shoulders and prepared to deliver a knockout blow.
It’s been a widely held opinion that an upward blow to the nose can drive a broken septum into the brain, killing a person. But most experts debunk the myth, stating it as impossible or highly unlikely such a blow could take a life. Rafter didn’t want to test the theory and instead aimed for Damien’s mouth. The fire extinguisher came down like an axe.
The bottom edge of the fire extinguisher can caromed off Damien’s lips. The sound of metal striking flesh filled the room. Damien’s front teeth spewed out his mouth and clattered to the hardwood floor like dropped marbles.
Damien made a gargling sound just before crashing into a heap on the floor. One look told Rafter the younger Charbonneau was out cold.
“Nice shot, honey. Don’t feel bad about his teeth. They were already messed up,” Annie said, smiling at him.
Rafter nodded weakly, his body already coming down from an adrenaline spike. “Let’s get out of this nightmare while we can.”
Chapter 53
“You’re not going anywhere, Jon. And neither is you’re wife,” Arcadias said, appearing from out of nowhere. For the third time this evening he held a gun to Annie’s head.
Arcadias glanced down at his unconscious brother; then his callous gaze shifted to Rafter. “You could’ve killed Damien. You’re not as upstanding and holy as you pretend to be.”
“I’m a man of many sins. But God has forgiven each one. And he can forgive all yours too, Arcadias, including what you’re doing now.”
Arcadias looked at Rafter disbelievingly. “Now isn’t a good time to try and convert me. Any chance at redemption for me has long ago expired.”
“As long as you’re breathing it’s never too late to experience God’s forgiveness,” Rafter said. “In fact, I’ve been praying for you off and on all night, Arcadias. I think deep down at your core you’re a good man. But the enemy has blinded you with this treasure obsession. Starting now, however, you can change all that. You can make a new beginning.”
Arcadias shook his head stubbornly. His gray eyes couldn’t hide his madness. “I need you to tell me how you escaped the attic.”
“Don’t tell him anything, Jon. Make him figure it out on his own,” Annie said.
Rafter quickly weighed his options. If someone else were in his shoes he would tell them to give Arcadias the information he wanted. Without question it remained the only safe move. But he hesitated for some unexplainable reason.
Heavy silence filled the small corridor, broken up only by the sound of Iris crying. Her sobs carried all the way from the parlor. For whatever reason, she hadn’t left the house yet. Perhaps the SWAT team frightened her too much to go outside, or maybe she couldn’t bear the thought of giving up on the man she loved.