Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [94]
He wished he could stop shivering, but it hurt to try to stop, so he let his teeth chatter.
“Are you cold? Is there anything else I can get you?” the man asked, and Timmy shook his head. “Tomorrow I’ll bring you some baseball cards and comic books.” The man got up, took the lantern from the crate and started to leave.
“Can I keep the lantern?” Timmy’s voice surprised him. It was clear and calm, despite his body shaking beyond his control.
The man looked back at him, and Timmy could see the eyes through the mask’s eyeholes. In the light of the lantern, they were sparkling as if the man were smiling.
“Sure, Timmy. I’ll leave the lantern.”
Timmy didn’t remember telling the man his name. Did he know him?
The man set the lantern back down on the crate, pulled on his thick rubber boots and left, locking the door with several clicks and clacks from the outside. Timmy waited, listening over the thumping of his heart. He counted out two minutes, and when he was sure the man wouldn’t return, he looked around the room again. The rotted slats over the window were his best bet.
He crawled off the bed and tripped over his sled on the floor. He started for the window when something caught his leg. He looked down to find a silver handcuff around his ankle with a thick metal chain padlocked to the bedpost. He yanked at the chain, but even the metal-framed bed wouldn’t budge. He dropped to his knees and tore at the handcuff, pulling and tugging until his fingers were red and his ankle sore. Suddenly, he stopped struggling.
He looked around the room again, and then he knew. This was where Danny and Matthew had been taken. He crawled into his plastic sled and curled up into a tight ball.
“Oh, God,” he prayed out loud, the tremble in his voice scaring him even more. “Please don’t let me get dead like Danny and Matthew.”
Then he tried to think of something, anything else, and he began naming the presidents out loud, starting with, “Washington, Adams, Jefferson…”
CHAPTER 55
After making several phone calls and getting no response, Nick decided to drive over to the rectory. He couldn’t go home. Eventually, that would be where his father would go. That was the one disadvantage of living in the family home—the family moved back whenever they wanted. And although the old farmhouse was certainly large enough, Nick didn’t want to see or talk to his father for the rest of the evening.
The rectory was actually a ranch-style house connected to the church by an enclosed brick walkway. The church’s stained glass hinted at just a flicker of candlelight, but the rectory was lit up inside and outside as if for a party. Yet, Nick waited a long time before anyone answered his knock.
Father Keller opened the door, dressed in a long black robe.
“Sheriff Morrelli, sorry for the delay. I was taking a shower,” he said without surprise, as if he had been expecting him.
“I did try calling first.”
“Really? I’ve been here all evening, except I’m afraid I can’t hear the phone from my bathroom. Come in.”
A freshly fed fire roared in the huge fireplace that was the room’s center of attraction. A colorful Oriental rug and several easy chairs sat in front. Books were piled up next to one of the chairs, and at a glance Nick noticed they were art books—Degas, Monet, Renaissance painting. He felt silly expecting them to be on religious and philosophical topics. After all, priests were people. Of course, they had other interests, hobbies, passions, addictions.
“Please sit down.” Father Keller pointed to one of the chairs.
Though he knew Father Keller only from the few times he’d attended Sunday mass, it was hard not to like the guy. Besides being tall, athletic and handsome, with boyish good looks, Father Keller possessed an ease, a calm that immediately made Nick feel comfortable. He glanced