The Devil's Labyrinth

Better to keep going, at least until he found another wall.

He took another step, then another, and suddenly his fingertips touched the hard stone of the wall, and a moment later he found first the niche, then the box of thin wax tapers. Gently, he ran his fingers around the box of candles until he found a box of wooden matches and a striking pad.

He struck a match and held it to a candle, then stuck it in the sand. He lit another and another, until the sand receptacle was ablaze, and the glowing candlelight began to drive the terror from his soul.

At last he saw where the priests had imprisoned him.

A chapel.

A small chapel dominated by a hideous crucifix, which seemed to be suspended in midair over a small altar. An old, ornately carved confessional sat to one side. The walls and floor were cold gray stone.

Ryan picked up one of the candles and walked around behind the altar, where he found a small door, presumably leading to the vestry.

It was as solidly locked as the chapel door.

There was no way out, unless he took the candles and set fire to the chapel door.

But even that probably wouldn’t work; he might die of smoke inhalation in this tiny chamber before the door would be compromised enough to attempt an escape.

There was no escape, so he had to wait for them to come back.

But would they come back for him? What if they just left him alone down here? How long would it take for him to die?

And what if he ran out of candles?

With his terror of the darkness already starting to flood back, he blew out all the candles but two — one left standing in the sand in the niche, the other one clutched tight in his own hand.

He sat on the cold stone blocks, his back to the big wooden door.

They’d come back.

They had to come back.

He sat silently, gazing up at the monstrous hollow-eyed Christ who stared unseeingly back at him.

And then he began thinking about his father.

His father would tell him what to do.

† † †

Teri spread a towel across the highly polished surface of the dresser top, then turned the jewelry box upside down to pour out the contents of its lowest compartment, which she’d always used as a catchall for everything from extra earring backs — or single earrings whose mates she’d never given up hope of finding — to spare change, Bill’s collar stays, and a few tiny objects she could no longer even identify. “I’ll never be able to use this box again,” she said, her voice trembling. “And I’ve loved it since the day Bill gave it to me.” She shook her head sadly and looked up at Tom. “And now I hate it. Isn’t that sad? Someone I don’t even know — probably won’t ever meet — has ruined this for me.” Now she glanced around the room, but her eyes were seeing far beyond the four walls surrounding her.

Walls that had betrayed her; walls that had failed to protect her.

“Do you think I’ll ever feel safe here again?”

“Honey.” Tom came up from behind her and put his hands on her shoulders.

“And I’ll have to throw away everything in that drawer, too.” She nodded her head toward the dresser drawer that was still open, her lingerie still hanging out, just as it had been when she had come home.

Just as it had been when the police had come and taken their report and then gone away again with nothing having changed. “I’ll never wear any of it again. Ever. I don’t even want to touch it.” Now the fear that she would never be safe again began to truly singe into her bones. Suddenly, every window was a doorway and every bed a hiding place.

Every closet could be a refuge for a thief.

A thief, or worse.

Her home, the home she had shared with her husband and son for so many years, the place she had always felt so safe, was no longer a comfort. Her sanctuary had been breached — her very spirit had been violated — and she knew she would never feel safe again.

Not even in Tom’s arms.

“I’ll always be afraid,” she whispered, turning and burying her face in Tom’s shoulder. “Always.”

Tom hugged her close for a moment, then took a deep breath and Teri felt him stiffen as if he’d just made some kind of momentous decision. “Either you’re coming back to my place tonight,” he announced, “or I’m going home, packing a few things, and moving in here tonight. It doesn’t matter what Ryan says or what he thinks — I don’t want you to be here alone.”

Teri pulled away slightly, remembering the terrible pain in her son’s face when she’d told him Tom was going to be moving in with her. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know if I can do that to Ryan.”

Tom tipped her chin up and looked directly into her eyes.

“I do know.”

“You can spend the night,” she said, drawing away slightly, her eyes pleading for his understanding, “but after the way Ryan reacted, I can’t. He’s already been hurt so much, and I just can’t hurt him any more.”

Tom stared at her. “You’re kidding! You’d rather be alone in this house, even after it’s been broken into?”

“I don’t want to,” Teri whispered. “But Ryan’s my son. Mine and Bill’s. He’s already lost his father and now he’s afraid he’s losing me, too. Please…can’t you understand?”

“I’ll try,” he responded, and pulled her closer. “But I’m still not sure it was just a random breakin. They were looking for something — some thing.” His hand gently caressed her hair. “You must have something here that they wanted.”

“There’s nothing, I told you,” she whispered against his chest. “No money, no drugs, nothing of value. You know how I live, Tom. There’s nothing here!”

“There has to be something,” he insisted, holding her tighter. “Maybe something old — something that might not even be worth anything if it were new. You know, like the stuff people bring from their attics on Antiques Roadshow where they don’t even know what they have. Could your parents have left you something? Or Bill?”

At the mention of her husband’s name the memory of the silver cross that Bill had brought back from Kuwait rose in her mind. “Bill brought something from—” she began, but as she felt his arms suddenly tighten and his body stiffen once again, she cut off her own words.

“What?” Tom asked, his voice tight, almost strangled, the gentleness of a moment ago suddenly gone.

Teri froze in his arms, her mind racing. What was going on? What had changed? All she’d tried to do was think of something that might be of value. And now it felt as if he was angry at her. “What’s wrong?” she asked, then tried to step back a little, but his hold on her only tightened. “Let go of me!”

“Tell me where it is,” Tom demanded, his voice no longer just tight, but ice cold. “It’s a cross isn’t it? A silver cross that your husband brought home from Kuwait.”

Teri forced her hands against him and shoved him as hard as she could, breaking loose from his grip and backing away.

“It doesn’t belong to you,” Tom said, his eyes suddenly glittering with fury. “It belongs to us. It’s ours.” Teri stared at him mutely, the color drained from her face. “You need to get that cross and give it to me, Teri. You need to get it right now.”

Teri stared at him, frozen where she stood. Who was this man? Who was this person she’d allowed into her life, who she’d trusted so much she had invited him to move into her home? This man who only a few moments ago had been so loving, so protective?

Now he was a complete stranger — there was not even a trace left of the man she’d fallen in love with. “You did this,” she breathed, the truth slashing into her soul like the blade of a knife. “You told them—” Her voice broke, and she began backing away toward the door. What was so important about the cross? Why did this man need it? And how did he know that whoever had broken into the house hadn’t found its hiding place in the attic trunk?