J.M.J.
Author's note: Thank you for continuing to read! Thank you especially to MargaretA66, Candylou, ErinJordan, and BMSH for your reviews! We are getting close to the end now. Four more chapters after this and the epilogue. I'm hoping I can keep up posting a chapter a day, but I'm not sure. In any case, it should be finished sometime next week. I can't wait to hear what you all think of the ending! Enjoy and God bless!
Chapter XXIX
Callie stared out the window as the plane winged its way through the darkness. The snow-covered ground made it possible to see shadows, although they were ill-defined and confusing. Jack was flying low over a road that wound in among the trees and the low hills. He had already said that this was the road that Lisa had identified.
"Flosniger Road," Phil was saying musingly.
"It sounds vaguely familiar," Callie commented.
"I think it was the road where that cabin was," Phil said. "The one with that serial killer."
Callie drew in her breath as she tried to shut the memory out. "Do you think Lisa heard the name of the road then and she's confused? This one might not have anything to do with Black Rose."
"I wouldn't worry about that," Phil replied. "That was what I was just thinking about. There's no possible way the road isn't connected."
"How can you be so sure?" Callie asked.
"Flos niger, when it's two words, is Latin for black flower."
"Those people certainly are dramatic," Jenna said. She was sitting next to Phil.
"I see something down below," Jack announced.
Everyone turned back to the window. There was a house below them with its windows lighted. It was set back a ways from the road, but they could see the headlights of a car in front of it. The car was speeding away toward the white ribbon of Flosniger Road.
"Someone's in a hurry for the road conditions," Jack said.
"Could it be one of the search parties?" Shaun asked.
"I doubt it, driving like that," Jack replied. "I'd say to call them and make sure, but the cell reception is bad down there. The call wouldn't go through."
Callie watched the headlights on the snow and something in her, some intuition, told her that this car was significant. "Let's follow it," she pleaded. "I think we need to see where it goes."
Jack turned the plane in a wide circle to follow the car. It was difficult to do, as the plane had to keep up a greater speed than the car could manage in the snow. Jack had to keep flying in a zigzag pattern and then doubling back to keep it in sight at all. All the passengers in the plane hoped that between the light wind that was blowing and the sound of the car's engine, its driver couldn't hear the plane.
Whether the driver could or not, he or she kept going in a direct route. The car reached a main highway and started speeding toward Gresham. To everyone's surprise, it headed straight for the airport and stopped in the parking lot. Instantly, Jack got on the radio and began requesting permission to land.
As they circled around waiting for permission, Callie kept her eyes glued to the parking lot. There were enough lights that she could see the driver door of the car open and a lone person get out and head for the terminal, but she couldn't see any details about the person, not even whether it was a man or a woman. She clenched her hands and prayed that they could get down in time to catch this person.
HBHBHBHBHB
"Are we getting close?" Chet asked, leaning over the seat to try to catch a glimpse of Iola's phone, which had the GPS on it. He, Biff, and Maria were in the back seat while Jerry was driving..
"I think so," Iola replied, glancing up from the screen at the road ahead of them as Jerry drove through the relentlessly white landscape. "It looks like we're within half a mile."
"Good, because we're getting pretty far away from town," Jerry pointed out. "Do we even have cell reception here?"
Iola shook her head. "At least the Hardys know where we're at in case anything happens."
That thought did little to cheer the group and they continued in silence. They soon turned onto Flosniger Road. A little more than half an hour down it, they came to a lane off to the side that had only been plowed out so that one car could fit between the snow banks. Jerry stopped and they debated for a minute or two whether to stay on Flosniger or try this other road. Chet pointed out that the Hardys had probably beaten them here, and so they would be covering the main road, which meant that he and his friends could do more good searching the side roads. In the end, his line of reasoning won the others over. It took about twenty minutes for them to arrive in sight of a large mansion with most of the windows lit. Several vehicles were parked in the driveway, blocking it entirely. Jerry stopped far enough away that they wouldn't be in sight of any of the windows.
"That's an evil Black Rose lair if I ever saw one," Biff declared. "How do we do this? It's a little hard to sneak anywhere in the snow. Even in the dark, we'll stand out against the white."
"True," Iola agreed. She scanned the area. "If we cut around through the trees, we can get fairly close to one corner of the house. In any case, we can circle around the house and scope it out."
They decided to take that course first. Wading through the deep snow was not easy, but fortunately it was shallower once they reached the shelter of the trees. Even so, it took them some time to make their way around it. In all that time, they didn't see a single movement in any of the windows or hear a sound or observe the slightest sign that there was anyone around.
"What do you make of it?" Biff asked the group in general as they returned to their original position.
"The place looks deserted," Maria said. "Let's try to get closer."
They reached the outside wall without meeting any challenge. They found a side door that was ajar and they went inside. It was well-lit, but there was no one around.
"I don't like this," Chet declared. "How do we even know that they're here?"
"They're not."
Everyone jumped as a man appeared in the doorway to the next room. He was dressed in a white suit and spoke with a British accent. He had no weapon visible, but he kept his hand near the opening of his suit jacket, as if he had a gun there and wanted to be ready just in case.
Biff was the only one who recognized him. "Edmund Wight."
"I'm impressed," the man replied. "And you're the Hardys' friends."
"Who is this guy?" Jerry turned to Biff.
"I don't know exactly," Biff said, keeping a wary eye on the man. "He's a spy that we met in Ziyou. He's supposedly working against Black Rose."
"Then what's he doing here?" Maria asked.
"I expect the same thing you are, Ms. Prito," Wight replied. "I'm looking for your friends, the Hardy boys, as well as for the leader of Black Rose."
Maria folded her arms. "How do you know my name?"
"I've had reason to familiarize myself with all the Hardys' close friends," Wight said. "I know all your names."
Iola shivered, finding the man's tone rather creepy. "But how did you know to come here? The police don't know about this place. We don't even know—for sure—that this is Black Rose's hiding place."
"It is," Wight assured her. "As a matter of fact, I've known about this place for some time. Alyssa told me about it, back when she really was a double agent for us. Her betrayal was quite a blow, but she won't be betraying anyone else. It appears we're all too late. The only people here are dead."
"What?" Jerry asked. "Frank and Joe…"
The same question was on everyone else's lips, but Wight answered before they could ask it.
"No, they're not here. At least, I couldn't find them. I believe it's all Black Rose's people who have been massacred."
"Who would have killed them?" Chet asked. "And why?"
"Both questions are easy enough to answer," Wight replied. "I recognized one of the vehicles parked outside. It belongs to a Randall Gelen, who is a known associate of Eva Moriare. I've suspected for some time now that Eva was more interested in destroying Black Rose than her petty little campaign against Hardy, Radley, and Beretta. Apparently, she's beaten us here."
"But if her car's still here, wouldn't she still be here?" Maria asked.
"That's the puzzle," Wight admitted. "But you're welcome to search for yourself. I certainly haven't found anyone, except the bodies that I mentioned."
"We'd better search," Chet said. "Come on, Biff."
"We should stay together," Iola warned him, but neither Chet nor Biff paid attention in their concern for their friends and they ran off. Maria followed them.
"There's no danger," Wight insisted. "There's no one here."
"But they have to be here," Iola said. "Their vehicles are all still here. They must be hiding, or you simply missed them. If they're walking around, it wouldn't be that hard to do in a house this size."
"Come on, Iola; we'd better catch up with the others," Jerry told her.
Iola had her misgivings about leaving Wight to his own devices, but she had to admit that letting her companions wander around a house potentially occupied by murderers was an even worse idea. The house had enough rooms and hallways that Iola and Jerry soon lost the others' trail. They went upstairs and after a few minutes, found one of the bodies that Wight had mentioned. Their first reaction to the gruesome sight was to wince and look away.
Then they heard a sound behind them and they whirled around. A dark-haired young man was standing there. He held his hands out in a gesture of surrender.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said.
"Who are you?" Jerry asked, stepping slightly in front of Nancy. He didn't see that the man had a weapon, but he didn't want to take any chances.
Rather than answering, the man asked, "Are you looking for the two guys they were holding prisoner? The Hardys?"
"Yes, we are," Iola said eagerly. "Do you know where they are?"
"I know where they took them. Whether they're still there or not…You'd better hurry. One of them—Angelo—was going to kill Frank and use Joe as a hostage to get away. If he gets away with him, he may kill him, too."
"Where did he take them then?" Iola asked, her heart beating faster.
"The basement. There's a secret passage. Evangeline might not have found them. I'll show you."
He turned and started down the hallway. Iola began to follow him, but Jerry stopped her.
"How do we know it's not a trap?" he whispered.
"We can't know whether it is or not," Iola admitted, "but if what he says is true, I don't think we can take the chance."
Jerry conceded that that was true. The young man beckoned for them to follow, and they did. As they followed him, Iola had a strange feeling that she ought to know who he was. Yet she didn't know how she possibly could. She glanced at Jerry a couple of times as they went and she could see from the look on his face that he was trying to work it out, too. The young man took them down to the basement, but he stopped short when he saw a panel of the wall open.
"That was the secret passage," he said. "It looks like Eva must have found it."
"That would explain where everyone's at." Iola shuddered. "She must have trapped them down there. Do you think she would have hurt Joe and Frank?"
"You'll have to go and see," the young man said. "But she might not have trapped them. The secret passage goes on. There's another exit. There isn't much time. You need to hurry."
"Aren't you coming?" Iola asked.
He shook his head. "I can't. You'll understand later. Don't waste any more time." As soon as he had said that, he turned and half-ran back upstairs.
Iola and Jerry looked at one another, but somehow neither of them thought it likely now that the young man might have been attempting to trap them. They started down the passageway, unsure and a little afraid of what they might find.
Suddenly, Jerry froze in his tracks, his mouth falling open. "Iola!"
"Is something wrong?"
"His voice…His face…" Jerry shook his head. "But it couldn't be."
"What?" Iola asked.
Jerry turned around and started running back down the passageway, calling, "Wait! Come back!"
HBHBHBHBHB
Consciousness ebbed and flowed in Frank's mind. He was in too much shock to feel the pain or to think anything coherently. Thoughts and words whirled around in his mind meaninglessly. Joe. Angelo. Alyssa. A man in a wooden mask. A spear. A piece of agate. Jumping out a window. Locked doors. A cabin. Axel. Snowshoes. Gunshots. Red light. Black roses. Withered white roses. Callie. Dying. He was dying.
That thought brought him a moment of lucidity. He was dying. He was losing everything. He was all alone and he would never see anyone he cared about again. He would never see Callie again. He would never meet their child.
It was all because of Angelo. Angelo had killed him, just like he had killed Tony. Just like he was going to kill Joe. Frank remembered now. Angelo still had Joe. He would kill him. There could be no doubt about that. Frank clenched his teeth. If only there was something he could do…
You should have killed him when you had the chance.
Frank didn't recognize the voice. He knew he hadn't really heard it, but it didn't sound like the voice of his own mind.
You had a chance to kill Angelo. You should have taken it. He deserves to die. He deserves to burn.
Frank felt that the voice wanted him to agree, but something held him back. He didn't know why. It was perfectly true. Angelo did deserve to die. He did deserve to burn for all eternity. But there was something about the voice that Frank didn't like, and he didn't quite give into the thought altogether.
Why pity him? He's done nothing to deserve it. You should hate him. You've spent your life pursuing justice. What could be more just?
Something in the back of Frank's mind warned him not to listen. Something about forgiving enemies…
But not enemies like this. The petty people who offend you, certainly. But not someone who has done what Angelo has done. He's destroyed your entire life. You owe him nothing.
Frank felt the voice growing colder. It wasn't fading away, but it was less and less like his own thoughts with every passing moment. It occurred to him that it wasn't in his mind at all. It belonged to…something else.
What difference does it make now, whether you hate him or not? You'll never get justice for what he's done. There is no justice. You'll see. Just give up. Despair. That's all there is in life. Hope is a delusion. Give in. Let go. Why fight what cannot be changed?
Frank's head had drooped against his chest, although the rope around his chest was holding him upright. He didn't feel like he could move. He didn't feel like he could think. Cold was settling over him, like a shroud. Darkness was creeping into the corners of his mind. In a moment, it would overtake him. He was sure he must be dying. He wanted that voice to stop. He wanted to be allowed to think. He tried to force the words to his lips, but he didn't think any sound came out, "Oh, God, help."
Enough. Get away from him.
It was a different voice, one that he didn't recognize, but which felt somehow familiar. At once, the coldness dissipated and the darkness vanished. He still felt cloudy in his mind and he still thought he was dying.
Then a third voice whispered to him, and this one he did recognize.
Don't be afraid.
His conversation with Joe came back to him in bits and pieces. I don't think Heaven is as closed off from this life as I used to…You'll be a part of their life, even if they don't realize it…It was peaceful and quiet as unconsciousness overtook him.
