Chapter 10
At his best, man is the noblest of all animals; separated from law and justice he is the worst. ~
Aristotle
As the estate of Erin Strauss came in sight, Gideon slowed his horse down. At first he had refused to go with Hotchner and Morgan, but after they had left town, he became restless. As if it would be a mistake to let the Marshalls go on their own. Though he had sworn to himself he would never set a foot on Erin's ranch again, he suddenly felt himself drawn to the place, as if something or someone was waiting there for him. A final duty.
He stood in the kitchen of Emily's Saloon and abandoned the cup of coffee, Penelope Garcia had brought him.
"I need to go," he announced and grabbed his hat.
"But where?" Garcia asked, aghast. She hadn't spoken to him all morning, scared to disturb him in his grief.
"Don't tell anyone where I went."
"Whatever you ask me to," Penelope answered and left the kitchen.
Now that he was close to the ranch, he could see that the place had become a rather crowded place. There was a big, white carriage right in front of the house, as well as the two horses of the Marshalls. So, Rossi was here and the bitterness he usually felt when he thought of his half brother didn't burn as violently as it used to. His heart was flooded with grief and the wish to avenge the woman he had loved so much deeper than he had known.
The other surprise was the third horse that lingered lonely at the stables. Dust whirled up, as the wind came to life and a cold, unfamiliar breeze reached him. He wasn't alone. Alarmed, Gideon climbed off his horse, and took it with him as he sneaked up behind the stables. He peeked around the corner and saw a woman approaching the house. He had seen her in town before and relaxed. Kate Joyner was Erin's new factotum and girl Friday.
One second later, his relief was replaced by a cold wave of shock, when a man who had been hiding in the carriage attacked Kate. Her scream paralyzed him and for a moment he asked himself if Elle had screamed like that as well, before the reaper had killed her.
Hotch heard the scream and pure electricity rushed through his veins. Ashley jumped up and Hotch stormed towards the window.
"It's Miss Joyner," Ashley yelled and pointed at the scene that took place in front of the house. Through the wall of the whirling dust, Hotch watched Kate fighting her attacker with all the strength she could mobilize. She was stronger than any woman he had ever seen, yet she couldn't escape her attacker. The man hit her head with the revolver, he was carrying and she sank to the ground, obviously unconscious.
"Morgan!" Hotch screamed and pushed Rossi aside. Morgan ran after him and so did Rossi, though Erin tried to grab his hand.
"Don't, David!" she yelled, her voice trembling with fear.
"I need to, Erin," he answered gently and freed himself from her intense grip.
The noise the men caused on their way to the yard, alarmed Foyet, as he pushed Kate's lifeless body into Rossi's carriage.
"Hands up!" Hotch yelled, the gun pointing at Foyet. If the threat made any impression on Foyet, he didn't show. His face only formed a malicious grin, as he tore Kate's body up against his and pressed the spattered blade of a knife against her throat. "Don't move!"
"It's Elle's blood on the knife, Hotchner," Foyet told him. "Do you want me to mix it with hers?"
"Let her go. You know you're finished!"
"I doubt that, Marshall. Listen to this deal... I take her now and make sure you get her back in one piece as soon as I've left this cozy little valley."
Morgan stood behind Hotchner and held his breath. Right behind him was Rossi and the two women stood in the door. Their faces were expressionless, but he thought he could hear their heart racing in their chests.
"I don't make deals!" Hotcher yelled into the grave silence and focused on the man's forehead and his index finger tightened around the trigger. Foyet's smile grew wilder, as he slid the knife point over Kate's skin. A small drop of blood ran down her neck and slowly soaked her white blouse.
Ashley gasped, but Erin quickly covered her mouth with her hand. Rossi pushed both women inside the house and closed the door while he stayed, standing close to Morgan.
"I can slit her open here and now...," Foyet teased and raised the knife to his mouth. "And you can't save her." He licked the blood from the blade. In the background Hotch heard Ashley repressing another sob, but he hardly heard her. His eyes looked straight at Foyet's face and concentrated on the movements behind him. Jason Gideon was sneaking up on Foyet from behind and he carried a shotgun.
"It's up to you, Marshall," Foyet laughed. "She's delicious... your loss will be my gain anyway."
"I don't think you're ready to die," Hotch said and slowly put down his gun. "You aren't finished yet, are you?"
"So many women, so little time," Foyet mused smiling. "But the valley is running a little dry of fresh blood. Put the guns down. Both of you," he ordered and Morgan and Hotch did as told. When the guns ended up on the dusty ground, Hotch raised his hands behind his head and said, "Let her go and we'll give you an advantage of at least 3 hours."
"That's a nice offer, Marshall Hotchner, but I think I'll pass on it." Foyet turned Kate around, slapped her and pushed her to his feet. "Whatever you offer me, will never be enough. None of your promises can allow me the same overwhelming satisfaction as the taste and the feeling of fresh, warm blood..."
A shot echoed across the dust cloaked yard and then there was silence. Foyet looked down on his chest, saw the blood, smiled and fell over the seat of the carriage with his eyes open.
On the porch Hotch stormed towards the carriage to help a now sobbing Kate out of the vehicle. Morgan followed him, but he turned and looked up to the window from where the shot had come.
Ashley Seaver stood in the window, smiling down on the dead body in the carriage with the still smoking shotgun in her hand.
Emily followed Doyle inside the mine and the further they moved into the dark shaft, the more she was scared. The lantern illuminated the partially wet stone and when she ran her hands over the cold walls, she shivered. It was cold down here and the air was humid. A disgusting smell that became heavier with every step made her dizzy and sick.
"Ian," she cleared her throat. "Isn't this meant to be a gold mine? I see nothing but cold, wet stone."
She thought of the dry desert out there and asked herself how the mine could be that damp.
"I told you this place is cursed," he answered. He was right behind her, the barrel of his shotgun pressed into her back.
"And what are we doing in here?" she asked.
"Something we need is hidden in here," he explained.
"Do you care to tell me what it is?"
Doyle laughed. "Life's funny, Lauren. You already know it. Just use your pretty, little head."
Emily narrowed her eyebrows. "No games, Ian," she said. "I'm tired of games."
"Just think about our common past and why you ended up in this valley in the first place."
She stopped dead and he bumped into her. She hated to think about and dwell on the past, but now it became more painful than ever. She remembered the robbery, the shooting, the blood of the young cashier and the blind boy behind the window... the boy they had to leave behind, after everything had gone wrong.
"The money?" she asked, now breathless. But it wasn't the cold humidity that cut off her breath. It was a heavy weight that had hit her chest. "The money's in here, but I thought..."
"That's my girl," he whispered into her ear. "Did you think I let you run away? Did you think it took me all these years to find you? I've always known where you were... what you did." He kissed her cheek and rubbed his unshaven cheek against her soft one.
"I hid the money in here, but before I could get you, Strauss had lost the mine to Rossi. The old fool...," he snarled. "But believe me, he paid dearly for it."
"You shot him?" Emily asked, aghast.
"One had to. And now move!" He gave her a push forward. Unprepared as she was, she fell against the stone wall and yelled in pain, when her arm scratched over the rough surface.
"Bastard!" she mumbled and touched her wounded arm. The blood on her fingers was warm and though the pain was absurdly intimidating, she suddenly felt alive.
"How far is it?" she asked coldly.
"Just a hundred yards behind the next corner. From there the tunnel is quite low-ceilinged. You'll have to crawl into it."
Emily stopped again and whirled around. "Now I understand," she said and this time her smile was even colder than his. "You want me to get the money for you and then you bury me in here – alive."
"That'll be on you, my darling. Do as I say and you'll live, disappoint me again and you'll die in here."
"There's something, I need to tell you, Erin," Rossi said with a deep groan, as he sank into the armchair. They were alone in the den, sitting at the fireplace. Ashley was upstairs, tending Kate's wounds. The Marshalls and Sheriff Gideon were outside taking care of George Foyet's body. As Erin had feared Gideon had refused to talk her. He didn't accept her condolences nor did he care to look at her.
Rossi didn't mind the growing distance between them. He felt sorry for Elle and that his brother had lost another woman he cared for, but that was it. There was no chance for more than that.
Not now that she had finally told him about her baby. Their baby, their daughter, who was now upstairs and must have a lot of questions for them. But the way he saw it, they had days and weeks to figure out how to move on. One big obstacle that still lay between him and the woman in the opposite chair was named Ian Doyle. As far as Rossi knew the guy had vanished again, but cockroaches like Doyle had the lethal tendency to turn up again when least needed. If Erin had found the strength to come clean with him about Ashley, he could return the favor and tell her about Doyle.
Erin and he had never been honest to each other in the past. Maybe today was a good way to start over.
"What is it?" she asked.
"It's about your husband."
"Sebastian? What about him?"
Rossi leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I know you've always thought, I was involved in his death and I always denied it, but..."
He watched her as she sat up, straightening her back. "Don't tell me, you shot him," she whispered huskily. "I couldn't bear it, if you..." He raised his hand to silence her.
"No, I did not shoot him. But I know who did it."
"Who? Tell me!" she ordered, her voice still a husky whisper.
"It was Ian Doyle," Rossi answered, establishing eye contact with her, anticipating her reaction, but she just listened, all tensed up. "It was the night we played poker together. Doyle was there... he was losing, but I knew he wanted the mine at all costs. He was obsessed with it. When Strauss lost the mine to me, Doyle became furious. He shot him and vanished from the face of the earth until a few days ago."
Silence fell as Erin just looked at him and again he wished he was able to read her mind. Her blue eyes glittered mysteriously and he had no idea if she would slap him, forgive him or both.
"Is that the reason you warned me about him?" she finally asked.
"When he applied for a job, I knew something was fishy. There's something about the mine that has caught his interest. I just don't know what." Rossi sighed, relieved that she hadn't jumped right into his face.
"It's the gold, David," Erin said with a shrug. "That's the reason we've fought over it."
"That's the point, Erin," Rossi smiled vaguely. "There's no gold. There never was. The mine is probably the most worthless place in this valley."
He watched her closely, as she gasped and fell back into her chair, her hand pressed against her heart.
"But what... how?" she shook her head in disbelief and searched in his face for an answer.
"Your husband only gambled over the mine, because he knew it was worthless. I'm afraid Doyle killed him for nothing."
"It wasn't your fault. Maybe Sebastian lost it to you, because he knew it was worthless. He never really liked you, you know." Erin smiled sheepishly, before she looked at him again. "And why did you fight for it?"
"Isn't that obvious?" he asked lowly and took her hand. He placed a kiss on it and held it closely to his cheek.
"I wanted to stay in contact with you. I wanted to know how you were doing."
Erin smiled warmly at him and closed her eyes. He knew she was reliving the last few days and when she spoke again, her voice sounded weaker and warmer than he had heard in decades.
"It took Ian Doyle to come to me with this indecent proposal of yours?"
"I never said I'm smart, just very brave at times. If I ever meet him again, I'll thank him."
They laughed and she got out of her chair to close the distance between them. She kissed him tenderly and whispered, "Are you brave enough to join me upstairs. There's someone up there we owe an apology to."
"We do owe her one indeed."
"Though I have the feeling she already knows everything she needs to know. She found us, David. She found us."
"I know," he answered and kissed the top of her head. "So will you take me for a husband even without the mine?"
Erin pulled a bit back and cocked her eyebrow. "I'll consider it."
"Here we are," Doyle laughed as they turned around another corner that seemed to lead into nothing but darkness.
"Are you sure?" Emily asked uncertainly. She had done her best to memorize the way they had taken, but truth was, they moved into the mine so deeply that she worried, if she would ever find a way out again.
Behind her Doyle lit another lantern and passed it to her.
"Absolutely. Take the lantern."
Now Emily saw why he was so sure he had taken the right path. Right before them the path ended and there was just a comparatively small hole at the ground left. Emily wondered how he ever got in there.
"And now?" she asked.
"You go in there. The money's hidden in a buried barrel. You'll dig it out, pass it to me, and when I'm sure the money's in there you'll come out again."
"Why can't we do it together?" Emily wanted to know while she swept the small entrance with the lantern. It looked solid, but who told her he wouldn't use the pickaxe to bury her in there once she gave him the money?
"Do as I say, Emily. You have to earn your life."
Emily laughed, "You weren't so reluctant to assist as long as I played along with your kinky games."
"I'm glad you enjoyed it as well. After you, Lauren..."
"If it's buried I'll need something to dig it out," she said, avoiding to look at the pickaxe in his hand.
"As soon as you're in there."
She drew a deep breath, but her lungs filled with nothing but humid and heavy air. She was sweating strongly and wiped her forehead. With the lantern in her hand she went on her knees and crawled through the small hole.
To her surprise the room she entered was circular and quite small, but high enough for her to stand up. It was a dead end. In the soft light of the lantern she studied the old stone walls that were covered with native drawings. She stepped closer, but the strange sound of her foot hitting a branch stopped her. She looked down to the ground and gasped when she realized she was standing on bones. She withdrew quickly and realized she had stomped on a dead person's hand.
"Lauren?" Doyle yelled. "Are you still there?"
"Yes." she turned her face away and looked further around. "Where did you bury the money."
"Do you see the drawings? Find the eagle, then you go two feet to the right and two steps into the middle."
He handed her the pickaxe and a small shovel through the hole. Emily placed the lantern on the ground, took the equipment that he gave her and did as he said.
She was quick and though the sweat burned in her eyes, she found the bag rather quickly. Driven by determination and the wish to escape, she pulled the bag out of the hole, opened it and smiled, when she saw its contents.
"My, my, Ian..." she whispered and hardly knew how to repress a husky laugh. Utterly sure what she had to do next, she blew out the lantern. She was instantly surrounded by darkness and Doyle's alarmed voice reached her ear within a heartbeat.
"What's going on in there?" he barked and she saw the flickering light of the lantern, as he knelt in front of the hole.
"The lantern breathed her last," Emily explained, reaching behind her to get a hold of a few bones.
"Do you have the money?" he asked and a moment later she detected his face in the small entrance. Then it disappeared again, before he pushed the lantern he had kept with himself all the time inside.
"Where's the money?" he repeated, breathing heavily, as he pushed his upper body through the small hole.
"There's no money, Ian," Emily said casually. "Just bones."
She showed him one of the bones from the skeleton behind her and smiled jovially. In the soft light of the lamp the blood left his face, leaving back a pale mask of desperation.
"You're lying," he groaned and forced his body further inside the room. Emily got up on her feet and quickly grabbed the pickaxe. Just as Doyle had moved himself far enough inside to get on his feet Emily raised the axe and watched it almost indifferently as it hit his head and his body crumpled to the floor. The lantern fell on the ground and died out instantly. Through the darkness Emily heard him spilling his own blood and screaming like a wounded animal that was mortally hit. He moved on the ground, crying, yelling, cursing her, as the pickaxe hit him for a third time.
Then there was nothing but the rustling sound of her own unstable breathing. She would forget about the money in here and she would forget about Doyle. She would never have to share him with anything or anyone again.
**tbc**
