Joe was gaining on them when he realized there was yet another person in front of the bald man. This man, also in black dress pants and a white shirt, didn’t seem to know that he was being pursued, because he was sauntering at a normal pace and swinging something heavy and metallic. The bald man was almost on him before he turned to defend himself, but he did a good job of it. The bald man went down.
His victory was short-lived, because Detective McDaniel was on the two of them in two steps. Without hesitation, the victor drew his arm back again, and Joe could see that it was holding a lug wrench, as deadly as it was ordinary.
Joe would never forget the power of his next blow. It made him realize that he had never seen anyone strike another human being with no holds barred. In every other fight he’d ever witnessed, both people wanted to win but, at their core, neither wanted the other person dead.
This man truly did not care whether McDaniel lived or died.
The lug wrench landed dead in the middle of the detective’s chest, then the man wielding it turned and ran like someone who knew for damn sure that his opponent wasn’t going to be bouncing back any time soon.
Joe was still several steps back, but he was fast. He could have caught the fugitive, if he’d been willing to coldly step over McDaniel’s prone body and be on his way. He couldn’t do it.
Joe knelt beside the detective. McDaniel was unresponsive.
Joe grabbed his wrist, looking for a pulse, but he didn’t find one. He shook the man hard.
“Detective McDaniel. Can you hear me?”
Nothing.
Joe knew that a heart, when stopped by a blow like the one McDaniel had just taken, could be a hard thing to restart. An external defibrillator was the tactic of choice, and even a defibrillator failed more than it succeeded. Not far away, less than a minute if he ran, was the K-9 unit he had seen coming into the church parking lot. Surely, they were equipped with lifesaving devices that could restart a heart.
Joe hefted the man off the ground, draped him awkwardly over one shoulder, and hauled ass for the church. Running while carrying a full-grown man was unspeakably hard. Knowing that he was probably running away from Faye was worse, but he didn’t know for sure that she was in imminent danger, and the man on his back was three minutes from death. Getting help for McDaniel was the right thing to do.
The logic in his decision was unassailable, as was the mercy, but running full-tilt away from his wife when she could be in danger was sheer agony.
Faye followed the tiny sound to the biggest crypt in the graveyard. Its bronze door hung just a millimeter ajar.
Guarding the door was a marble statue, time-worn, of a seated woman draped in a shroud with lilies cascading out of her lap. As Faye reached for the door handle, she felt guilty for disturbing the statue’s rest.
The door was heavy, and Faye would have worried that it wouldn’t open if the drag marks beneath it didn’t prove that somebody had just opened it. The door ground over individual grains of sand as she dragged it open, so slowly, hoping that the hinges didn’t let out a rusty scream. Instead, she heard only a low metallic groan.
When Faye had the door open a foot, maybe, she slid into the crypt. The narrow opening only let in a little light, just enough for Faye to see that this crypt wasn’t just for looks. She braced herself for bones and the decayed scraps of shrouds. Buttons, perhaps, if the dead had worn clothes beneath those shrouds.
A pile of objects occupied a corner of the small chamber, and the light reflecting on them revealed the human bones she had dreaded—skulls, femurs, ribs and more. The bones were so old that the crypt didn’t smell of death. It smelled of dust and age and eternity. They put her in mind of the goddess Kali, who adorned herself with garlands of skulls. If there were ever to be a time for Kali-the-goddess to watch over her namesake, that time was now.
Faye saw only darkness, but there was something besides bones hidden in this place. Her eyes caught motion, and they saw dark hair, dark dress, dark skin, dark shoes. Kali.
Faye was fumbling for her phone and its flashlight function, and she dropped it when she heard the familiar sound of something firm hitting the ground. The girl, bound hand and foot, was thrashing like a fish desperate for water.
Faye’s eyes were adjusting to the dim light admitted by the barely open door. Finally, she could see the child. Kali was covered with a century of dust and decay, but she was alive.
Dropping her purse, Faye threw herself onto her bandaged knees and began struggling with the man’s tie binding Kali’s ankles. The child made frustrated, wordless noises through the gag until Faye put a finger to her own lips. Then she unfastened the sparkly black belt wrapped around Kali’s mouth and thought of murder. The person who had done this to a child did not deserve to walk among human beings.
Kali knew this as well as she did. Her whisper was faint, but Faye could hear every word.
“Shut the door, Faye. Shut the door and hold it closed.”
“Shh. It’ll be okay. I’m here now. Be quiet while I get you untied, so that nobody hears us until we’re ready to run.”
The knots binding the little girl’s hands required so much of Faye’s attention that she never would have seen the text on her phone’s screen if it hadn’t been face-up where she had dropped it. Hoping it was McDaniel, announcing that he had failed to meet her because he’d been
