“Fine, we’ll go on a little trip upstairs then, just us three. You won’t have to tell me how to depart the attic; you can simply demonstrate to me how you escaped,” Arcadias said. He backed up a few feet, but still kept his Glock trained on Annie. “Come here, Jon. Get behind Annie. If you try any heroics I’ll shoot right through you and into Annie.”

Rafter took four steps toward Annie and moved in behind her.

“Excellent. Now let’s walk single-file to the attic.”

Arcadias nudged Rafter in the back with his Glock. Rafter moved out and followed Annie. He stared at her back as he walked. And then he remembered the one object that could even the odds a bit. Why he had forgotten such an important thing, he didn’t know. But he suddenly remembered the derringer hidden somewhere on Annie.

He had to somehow get his hands on the small handgun. An idea rolled around in his head on how to go about it. But the idea depended on the derringer being concealed in the small of her back. Rafter slowed his gait, baiting Arcadias.

“You’re stalling, Jon. Pick up your pace,” Arcadias said, and then shoved at Rafter’s back.

Rafter stumbled forward, bumping into Annie. He maneuvered his hands under her t-shirt. Annie figured out at once what he attempted to do and shortened her stride. Rafter felt the wooden grip of the Philadelphia derringer. He pulled at the grip and the small gun slid out of Annie’s waistband and into his bound hands. The transfer took three seconds at the most.

Rafter manipulated his hands until his left palm cocked the hammer back. And then he whirled around and pointed the gun at Arcadias’s chest. “Stay behind me, Annie,” he commanded.

“Well, what a surprise, Jon. You hold a Philadelphia derringer in your hands. And it looks like an original, not a reproduction. The Philadelphia derringer found fame when John Wilkes Booth shot President Lincoln with one. But if you ask me, it’s not much of a weapon. Although widely copied by other gun makers, the Philadelphia derringer is highly inaccurate, and depending upon how much powder you use, not very powerful.”

“From this range I can’t miss. And we’ll see how far the lead ball penetrates your brain.”

Arcadias grinned, a sneer belonging only on a lunatic. “But you’re aiming at my chest.”

Rafter nodded. “The derringer is known to shoot high. By aiming at your chest, the .44 caliber ball should enter your forehead right between your eyes.”

“You’ll notice, Jon, that I’m aiming my highly reliable and accurate Glock at your chest. If I was a betting man I would wager my Glock will get the job done over your antique pistol. I’m also using full metal jacket rounds. These rounds will go right through your chest and into Annie. I could kill you both with one shot. So drop the derringer to the floor and proceed to the attic.”

Rafter didn’t budge.

“I’m not bluffing, Jon.”

“Neither am I,” Rafter said, and pulled the trigger.

But the little gun didn’t fire. The derringer did nothing at all. Rafter didn’t understand. He knew the gun was loaded. He checked it in the attic, saw the lead ball shoved down inside the barrel. And then he realized the problem. The last step in the arduous procedure of arming a muzzleloader hadn’t been done. There wasn’t a percussion cap on the nipple, a mistake likely to cost him his life, and also Annie’s.

A haughty smile darkened Arcadias’ sun-bronzed face even more. “I told you a Philadelphia derringer is unreliable. But you wouldn’t listen,” he said, and pulled the trigger.

Rafter saw the muzzle on the Glock turn orange as two muzzle flashes exploded out the end. He instantly felt two rounds slam into his chest at point blank range. The bullets jolted him backwards into Annie. His paint shirt went from speckled white to solid crimson. Rafter careened into the wall, striking his head.

His vision blurred and then failed altogether, and everything faded from gray to the deepest shade of black.

Chapter 54

Annie dropped to the floor and poised her face close to her husband’s. “Jon! Please open your eyes,” she sobbed. “Don’t leave me!”

But she knew it was already too late. Her pleas would never convince Jon’s soul to reenter his lifeless body. Wanting to touch him, she dragged her bound hands along his chest. Her trembling hands came away sticky and red.

Arcadias leveled his Glock at Annie. “For the final time, Annie, tell me how you escaped the attic.”

She looked up at her husband’s killer. “Find it yourself!”

“That isn’t the answer I’m looking for. Do you wish to receive the same fate as your husband?”

“I would die happy knowing I defied you,” Annie said, dropping her head down onto Jon’s stomach, mindless of the blood soaking his shirt.

Arcadias took a step forward through the gun smoke, still aiming his Glock at her, his shooting hand rock steady. “Now don’t be hasty, think this over, Annie. You’re about to adopt a baby. You’ve surely dreamed of being a mother for a long time. You need this baby, and this baby needs you.”

“I don’t want to raise a child without Jon.”

“I’ll tell you what, Annie; I’m going to give you a little more time to reconsider. I will count to three. If you haven’t told me what I want to know by the time I reach three, I will send you to the afterlife, just like I did Jon. So here we go. One…”

“I told you I can’t parent a child without Jon. So go ahead and pull the trigger.”

“Two…”

“The chimney, we escaped out the chimney,” Rafter gasped.

Annie jerked her head up. “Jon? You’re alive? I thought…I really thought you died.” Annie bent down and kissed him all over his face and neck. She finally pulled up and looked at him, happy tears streaking her face. A part of her didn’t want to know, but she had to find out. Annie turned her head and saw Arcadias was no longer there. Relieved, she trained her wet eyes back onto Jon “We need to get you to a hospital. You’ve lost so much blood.”

“I’m fine, Annie. I just hit my head on the wall and passed out for a minute.”

“But I don’t understand. Arcadias shot you in the chest from point-blank range. And there’s blood all over your shirt.”

Rafter moved his tied hands up to a chest pocket on his shirt. He fumbled around for a moment and then awkwardly brought out the wood-encased Bible he tried to give to Cameron Ross. He looked the Bible over. There were two entry holes in its cover but no exit holes. The bullets had lodged inside. “This is the best three bucks I’ve ever spent.”

“Is that the Bible you bought at a garage sale not long ago?”

“The very same one,” Rafter answered with a weak smile.

“But isn’t that blood on your shirt? You’re covered in it.”

Rafter sat up. He reached into the shirt pocket again and pulled out a mangled paint tube. He smiled at Annie. “This Winsor and Newton paint tube used to contain cadmium red oil paint.”

“Oh, Jon, you scared me so bad. My heart will never be the same. But now I’m so happy. I can hardly believe you’re okay. I thought I was a widow for a minute there.”

Doors slamming against their hinges ended their moment. Authoritative voices rang out from the foyer and kitchen. “Police! Search and arrest warrants! Hands on your head! No one move!”

A SWAT officer holding a MP5 entered the corridor and stood by the angel mural. “Are you folks okay? Are you the homeowners?”

Annie nodded. “Yes to both your questions. But you better check the roof, Officer. Arcadias is escaping through the attic. He’s using the chimney as his exit point.”

****

Josiah Barrett and his mother knelt by the stream flowing through Josiah’s back yard. They peered into a crystalline pool below the falls, looking at an image shining on the water’s calm surface. “Mama, did you see the angel place his wing in front of Jon Rafter right before Arcadias shot his gun? The angel’s wing slowed the bullets’ velocity.”