J. Ellison - 14

Jane heard a snick, then tapping. He’s blind, she realized with astonishment. The thought made her giggle. The blind leading the blind. This was crazy. Her hands went to the blindfold again, but he stopped.

“Please. It will be quick. I promise. There are many passages through the house.”

The tone of his voice made her stop, and she said, “Okay.” And meant it.

After a few long minutes of shuffling along, they went down two flights of stairs. Jane could smell bread. A kitchen? Before she could think, her hand was on a doorknob.

“Thiss will take you through the gardensss. Walk sssouth for one hundred paces, then turn to your right. You’ll be in the garden of the house next door. Please, just get a ride from someone, and don’t look back.” The door started to close, and Jane whipped off the blindfold and looked over her shoulder. All she saw as the door closed quietly behind her was a face that looked like an old candle, melted from continual use. She was glad she hadn’t gotten a full look.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Nashville, Tennessee Tuesday, December 23 7:30 p.m.

The apprentice stormed through the hallways of the manse, looking in every room in the upstairs corridor. The girl was gone.

He entered Snow White’s library in a fury, not noticing that they weren’t alone. Joshua sat in the corner by the fireplace, the flute in his lap, sightlessly serene.

“Where is she? Where is the girl?” he screamed.

Snow White sat in his chair, a fire lit, warming his crippled legs. He rubbed the cream into his hands, massaging the pain away as best he could. He hated the scent of the balm; it crept into his wasted flesh, wouldn’t ever wash away. But the pain subsided fractionally when he used enough of it.

“She’s in her room.”

“No, she isn’t. She’s gone.”

Snow White struggled to his feet. “She was there when you left with Charlotte.”

“Well, she’s gone now, old man. Kind of fitting, really. So’s your bitch of a daughter. I had no choice, really I didn’t. But it was so much fun. She died screaming, like a child.”

“Noooo!” Joshua’s strangled cry sounded from the far side of the room. “You didn’t kill her. Tell me you didn’t kill her. I let Jane go. Ssshe was sssweet and kind and didn’t deserve thisss. You didn’t hurt Charlotte. Tell me you didn’t hurt Charlotte.”

Troy turned and snarled. “She died slowly, little brother. Know that.”

Joshua sobbed and ran from the room. Snow White looked at Troy with pain in his eyes. “What have you done?”

The apprentice shrugged. “She was in the way. She was going to turn us in. I had to silence her.”

“Did you? Did you really? Or were you just taking matters into your own hands again? So help me God…” Snow White lurched at the man he’d trained, but the younger man was too nimble. He danced away easily.

“What did you expect, old man? That I’d let her live? That I’d let any of you continue on? You were wrong. You were so very wrong.”

Grabbing a poker from the fire, he advanced on Snow White. Before he could take four steps, his body jerked. His mouth opened, but the roar of the gun drowned out his scream.

Joshua reentered the room, a pistol wavering in his hand. He squeezed the trigger again, but Troy saw it coming and ducked, rolling away from the fireplace, away from Snow White. He made it to the door before Joshua’s empty eyes found him again, disappearing into the darkness of the hallway.

Joshua went to the door and bolted it, locking him and his father in the library. He went to Snow White, who had crumpled, stricken, in his chair. He was keening, a low mourning for his daughter. His son joined him, held him while he cried, and they wept for Charlotte’s soul.

Taylor went back to the CJC and found the offices nearly empty. Most people had taken the entire week off for their Christmas vacation. She had a moment’s displacement, knowing all that had transpired that prevented her from leaving on her own Christmas vacation, but pushed it away. There would be time for that later.

She’d called Captain Price on her way into the office and told him about the recovered file folder. She hadn’t gone through it in detail, but at first glance it contained all the information they’d been speculating about regarding Burt Mars and Edward Delglisi. Her next call was to Baldwin, a request to meet her and go through the information. With any luck, the key to sinking Delglisi’s ship would be in these papers. Whatever Richardson had discovered had gotten him killed. She was ready to see what that might be, regardless of her own involvement. Baldwin had extracted a promise from her to wait until he got there to go through the file. The suspense was killing her.

She was toying with the edge of the folder when Baldwin came into her office with two cups. The steaming latte was a welcome treat; she didn’t realize how chilled she was until she wrapped her hands around the warm cardboard. She thanked him and sipped gingerly.

“So, can we look now?”

“I want to talk to you about a couple of things first.”

“What?”

“I had a conversation with a friend of Lincoln’s, an…official with the South American and Mexican governments.”

“The spy. Lincoln told me he helped with the chauffeur.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say that he’s a spy. I think he’s more of a facilitator.”

“Okay. I won’t even ask how he came to be friends with our Lincoln, then.”

“There’s nothing sordid. Lincoln doesn’t know the extent of this man’s reach. Anyway, he’s had Delglisi on his radar for a while.”

“The South American connection.”

“Right. Well, they want him. And they’re willing to do just about anything to get him. There’s just one little problem.”

“Win.”

Baldwin looked at her. “You peeked into the file, didn’t you?”

“No, I didn’t. I can only imagine that’s what it must be, because you’re treating me like a five-year-old. My father is a criminal, Baldwin. I can take it. So spill.”

“Okay. Mars was the bank, but your dad is Delglisi’s bagman. He’s the one moving the money. The authorities were closing in on him two months ago. He went overboard from THE SHIVER, but left a cool four million on board when he bailed. So not only are the South Americans and the Mexicans looking for him, he cost Delglisi a lot of money.”

“That’s why Delglisi thinks he can trade on Win’s life. Win’s a dead man regardless. There’s no way we can keep this quiet.”

“Taylor, there is a way.”

She set her latte on the desk and looked Baldwin straight in the eye. “Are you kidding me?”

“No. I’ve been talking to Garrett this afternoon. He can arrange for the Marshall Service to take him into protective custody. Your dad will have to testify against Delglisi, but they can keep him safe.”

Taylor leaned back in her chair, staring up at the watermarked ceiling tile that she’d inherited with the office. Official requests to replace the moldy brown splotch had been effectively ignored. She focused on the mark while her mind whirled. Was she willing to allow her father that kind of judicial forgiveness? She had never been able to muster her own absolution for him. Now the law would do something her heart would never allow, and her mind would fight. She didn’t think she could stand by and watch him glide yet again. But at the same time, the greater good would be served. Shit. Typical Win, ruining her thought process by simply existing.

“You’re right. But here’s a question for you. If Win is as big a part of this as we think, what now? He gets to go scot-free?”

“No, that’s not really how the witness protection system works. At this level, they’ll give him immunity to testify against Delglisi and his cronies. They’ll relocate him, probably out of the country, give him a new face, a new name, anything he needs to effectively disappear. It’s a lot more dangerous than romantic, I’ll give you that.”