But Killer, trotting beside him, wasn’t satisfied.
The dog scratched at Meg’s door and whined, then started jumping on Matt’s legs, insistent that he do something, that he get the door open.
“Everything okay?” the Capitol police cop asked from the end of the hall. “The dog’s going to wake everyone.”
“I just want to check on Agent Murray. If the dog is upset, there’s even more reason for me to do so.”
“Knock on the door. I know she’s inside there. I watched her go in and haven’t seen her leave.”
He knocked as softly as he could, and then harder. There was no response.
Matt moved down the hall to the door to Maddie’s room. He tried the door. It, too, was locked.
By then, others began to come out of their rooms. Jackson and Angela, Kendra and Ian Walker, and then Nathan Oliver.
“I need this door opened,” Matt explained. He had to make sure both of them were fine. He didn’t give a damn about anyone’s opinion or the consequences. He kicked the door to Maddie’s room open and threw on the light.
Maddie Hubbard was in bed. She was sleeping deeply; she didn’t wake up, even with the sound of her door being kicked in or the bright light suddenly streaming into her room.
Was the woman dead?
Matt rushed to her side and felt for a pulse; she was alive. He shook her arm, lightly at first. “Mrs. Hubbard. Maddie.” She still didn’t wake. He shook harder. Her eyes slowly opened, and she stared at him with confusion.
“You’re all right,” he said briefly.
He left her to the others and walked through the adjoining door into Meg’s room. Killer was already there, barking insanely.
Matt turned on the light. At first, he thought she was in the bed. Then he discovered that it was just pillows and wadded-up blankets.
He looked at her window. It was wide-open. The evening breeze was gusting in.
And Meg was gone.
* * *
Meg woke slowly, fighting what seemed like swarms of spiderwebs in her mind.
Then she became aware of the cold, hard ground beneath her and the dank smell of earth. She was cold—naked, shaking, shivering. Next, she became aware of the wet feel of her hair, clumped around her body and her face. She tried to move, but it was difficult; her limbs felt as numb as her mind. She had to make an effort to get her eyelids to open, and when they did, she wasn’t sure if they were truly open or not. She was surrounded by darkness. She tried to rise and realized she had to do it slowly. She wanted to leap to a defensive posture immediately, but it wasn’t that easy.
She wasn’t dead; she hadn’t had her throat slit. She was in a dark place, lying on a dirt floor that felt like earth. She was cold because she was naked, and she couldn’t have been there too long because her hair was still really wet. She remembered that she’d been taken in the shower.
She had nothing—no gun, no weapon, nothing—including clothes. She was somewhere...near the MacAndrew farmhouse. She had to be.
She managed to come to her knees, and then to stand carefully. She held very still, listening, but she could hear nothing at all. The night was completely silent.
Where the hell was she?
She reached in front of her, trying to discover what she could feel. Just more dirt.
She inched forward. Her mind raced in several directions. It was impossible! Impossible that someone had kidnapped her from the MacAndrew house. Her door had been open to the next room. There’d been a policeman in the hall. There was security all around the house.
Impossible! Yet here she was.
But she wasn’t dead yet!
She gritted her teeth, fighting cold and fear. She reminded herself that she’d been trained, that she was in excellent shape.
And that Matt would return to the house...and he would discover she wasn’t there, and he’d start a search that would continue until he found her. She would be found.
Unless the killer returned first.
She stood still, halting her blind groping for a moment. She remembered when they’d been at the Virginia Monument, when she’d sat on the step and closed her eyes and thought of Lara. She’d touched Lara’s mind somehow...and she had seen this place. Dank and dark, filled with the rich scent of earth.
Lara had been here.
She dropped back to her knees. She had to take care with every movement. She couldn’t afford to hurt herself. She began to crawl, reaching out tentatively, trying to feel for what was directly ahead of her. Finding only more earth.
Then she touched stone, and she was suddenly sure she knew exactly where she was.
The mill. The ruined mill by the stream that passed near the condemned property, which had recently been purchased by Walker’s company. And Lara was here somewhere.
She was right! She heard a soft moan, so weak it was barely audible. She had to force herself to pinpoint the sound—and to move slowly and carefully toward it. Inch by inch. There was a stone object to her left, one of the old grindstones, she thought. She hit metal next and figured it was part of the mechanism. She moved around it with painstaking care.
And then, finally, she hit flesh.
Lara.
She’d found her at last. “Lara!” she said loudly. “Lara, Lara!”
The body stirred.
And then she heard her name.
“Meg! Meg, I knew you’d find me.”
Meg let out a cry of relief and blindly slid her arms around her friend. “Yes, yes, I’m here. We’re going to be okay.”
Yes, they were going to be okay.
As soon as she figured a way out of here.
* * *
Lara had almost no voice left at all. When she spoke, it was in a scratchy whisper. “I don’t know where we are. I was on my way home in DC and I called you. I was afraid because of that girl who’d been killed—her throat slit—I saw a van and I started to dial emergency. But I decided I was being ridiculous. Then I saw a car, a black sedan, and I thought that Walker had sent someone to see that I got home okay. And I walked over to the car and...” She paused for a moment, and the silence frightened Meg, but then she heard her friend draw another breath to continue. “Someone had been sent, all right. I didn’t even see his face before I realized he’d come for me. I ran. I ran but he threw himself on me and then...then I was out, and I woke up here.”
“So you don’t know who it was?” Meg asked with dismay. “Or does it matter? Is Walker’s whole household involved?”
“No, no, I don’t believe so. We were in his office late that night—the five of us—fighting about the platform and I said something about how convenient it was that Congressman Hubbard was dead. Ian appeared to be shocked, then everyone was shouting that it was horrible that I could’ve said such a thing. It occurred to me that we’d all been at a picnic with him to benefit a kids’ program the day he died. Maddie was worried about her husband, reminding him about his heart condition. He patted his suit pocket and said he always had his pills with him, he’d be fine. Meg, I’d started to wonder if someone that day had gotten hold of his pills and switched them with something else.”
Lara was shaking as she spoke, her words a hoarse whisper. She was burning up with fever, Meg thought. She had to get them out of here.
Lara seemed to read her mind. “I’ve been all around this place,” she said. “Over and over again. We’re deep in the ground somewhere. There’s no way out. There’s stone in the middle and earthen walls all around. It’s impossible.”
“We’re in the mill,” Meg told her, “the ruins of the old corn mill.”
“What old corn mill?”
“It’s in Gettysburg. We’re in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. And I know exactly where we are. I wasn’t very far away, searching for you today. No farther than
a football field.”
“Gettysburg...” Lara said. “I was in DC and now I’m in Gettysburg... How are we going to get out? We can’t scale the walls. Trust me, I tried. At the beginning, I had a lot more strength. I tried, Meg. I screamed, I yelled, I tested the walls. They’re just dirt, so you can’t crawl up them.”
“There are two of us now, Lara. We can get to that stone in the middle and one of us can climb on the other and—”
“Oh, Meg, I have no strength left! I can barely move.”
“I’ll lift you.”
“I don’t even know if I can stand up.” She struggled to sit, grabbing Meg for support. Meg held her, and Lara groaned. “I was going to ask if you had an aspirin. You don’t even have any clothes. Neither do I. No purse, no aspirin.”
“We’re getting out of here,” Meg said desperately. She got to her feet and pulled Lara to hers. “I can be the muscle for both of us.” She swore, supporting Lara as she staggered along. “Let’s make our way to the stone. It’s a container—a big stone container for the corn to go in... If you can get to the ledge and use the stone as leverage, I can crawl up.”
“Oh, Meg, I’ll try anything, but...I’m broken here.”
“You’re not broken, Lara. You’re a fighter! You’ve fought for the underdog all your life. Well, we’re the underdogs here. Fight! We have to fight!”
“I’m ready when you are,” Lara said on a shaky breath.
Meg led the way to the container for the corn that was once ground there. “Be careful. The mechanism must be faulty now. We don’t want to end up milled,” Meg said.
“Just get to the ledge, get over it to the other side so it acts like a counterweight, and I’ll give you my arm,” Lara told her.
“Yes.”
“You have the strength...”
“Yes,” Meg said firmly. She was glad of the brutal hours of training she’d gone through at the academy. She was strong. They were going to survive.
She raised Lara up, trying to angle her to stand on her shoulders. Lara giggled softly.
“What?” Meg asked.
Lara’s giggle was of an hysterical sob. “This would make one helluva porn movie, wouldn’t you say? Maybe a snuff-porn movie,” she added grimly.
“Get up there. If anyone is getting snuffed, it’s those responsible for all the deaths—and this situation.”
“All the deaths?” Lara repeated. “All what deaths?”
Meg realized her friend didn’t know about the three women who’d died since her disappearance. This didn’t seem the time to tell her. She didn’t reply.
“Get up there!” she said instead, balancing her weight, trying to get Lara onto her shoulders, then standing, so Lara could grab the lip of the stone container.
“It’s just beyond my reach,” Lara said.
“Stretch!” Meg ordered her.
“I—I can’t...”
“Stretch, damn you! I am not dying down here!” Meg snapped. “And neither are you!”
A second later, she felt Lara’s weight lift from her shoulders. And after another few seconds, when she fumbled around in the darkness, she found Lara’s hand. She took a deep breath. She was in good shape, excellent shape, and she prayed she could hoist her own weight with enough power to drag herself up to the ledge.
She clasped Lara’s hand and braced against the stone with her feet. It wasn’t going to be enough.
“Hang on!” she called to Lara. She took another deep breath and assessed her situation. She tried again. No, it really wasn’t going to work. But then she heard Lara grunting, swearing, sobbing. She pressed her feet against the stone and used the leverage to hoist her own weight. She freed one hand from Lara’s grasp and reached...
And she had it; she had the ledge. With tremendous force she pulled herself up.
They were still in stygian darkness, perched precariously on the ledge. Balancing carefully, she began to feel around. She found the platform by the ledge and dragged herself over, hoping that the wooden flooring would hold.
It did. She reached back for Lara, telling her to follow the sound of her voice. A minute later, she felt her friend’s hand. They were both on the platform.
Meg lay back for a moment, breathing hard. And then she realized that she was seeing a pinprick of light. The moon was peeking through a hole in the mill’s roof.
The light seemed to burst into her like a thrill of hope. She squeezed Lara’s hand. There was no response.
“Lara!”
“Meg... I... I can hardly breathe.”
“We’re close, so close to help. Get up! Come on!”
Meg stood. She held Lara, who could barely make it. Her friend had obviously used the last of her strength to pull her up.
She kept still, not moving at all, and let Lara regain her balance. Her eyes adjusted to that little bit of light. There was a break, she saw now, in the giant barnlike doors to the place. Despite the rough flooring—the pebbles, splinters and everything else on the ragged wooden floorboards—she headed for the door, half carrying, half dragging Lara.
When she got to the doors and pushed her way through, the moonlight seemed so bright she had to blink against it.
But she’d been correct. They were at the ruined mill. And beyond it, she could see the ruins of the old house and, beyond that, the Yankee reenactment camp, quiet now in the night.
“Come on! I can see help just over there!” she told Lara.
She realized then that her friend had passed out, that Lara’s entire weight was hanging on her. She gritted her teeth and lifted her up, starting across the overgrown grasses and bracken and through the trees. She was going to live—and see that Lara lived, too.
* * *
“Oh!” Maddie said in confusion. “Meg is gone? Gone—how could she be gone? She said she’d stay with me! Oh, dear, she must be so worried about her friend that she decided if I was sleeping she’d go out and look for her!”
“She didn’t go past me!” the Capitol man insisted.
“No, it’s obvious.” Kendra Walker grimaced. “She climbed out her window and somehow got down to the back porch, which is right underneath this room. So much for the security people. Great job! She went out a window and disappeared.”
“Meg didn’t go out a window—not on purpose,” Matt said firmly.
“I didn’t hear a thing, and I came up and knocked on Maddie’s door to check on her and she was fine. I assumed Agent Murray was asleep in the next room,” Joe Brighton said. “Face it, Bosworth. She figured that if she slipped out by night, no one would know.”
“Her gun and shoulder bag are gone,” Angela said quietly.
“I don’t care what’s gone. Meg wouldn’t leave. I know her. She wouldn’t just leave. Even if she felt she should be looking for Lara Mayhew.”
“All right, let’s get out there and search for her,” Jackson said.
“Search for her?” Ian Walker still seemed dazed. “That’s...that’s rather futile, isn’t it? She’ll come back when she’s ready.”
“Congressman Walker, you have plenty of protection here. My people and I will be heading out to search for our colleague,” Jackson announced.
“But...” Kendra began.
“If my agent is sure that his partner didn’t leave willingly, I believe him, and that’s that,” Jackson said.
“We could have your badge for this!” Kendra protested. “What if she was taken? You’re going to abandon us? Maybe that’s just what the kidnappers want! They want us to be defenseless, and if you go...”
“You’re far from defenseless,” Jackson interrupted. “Now, let’s go. Matt, you lead.”
“Mr. Crow is right,” Ian agreed. “Kendra, we’re fine. Joe, Nathan, you get out there, too, and join the search.”
Matt called the dog. “Come on, Killer, time to find our girl,” he said quietly.
Killer raced along with him. Downstairs, Jackson spoke to the men at the checkpoint, who’d seen nothing. But they’d been watching the road to the house, not the house itself. He returned to Matt. “The local authorities are all on the hunt. Where to?”
“The ruins of the old house. Meg was certain Lara was nearby when we were there. She saw her, deep in the earth.” Jackson would, of course, know what he meant. “There has to be something that we missed.”
“Let’s do it,” Jackson said. “We’ll take a few cars. We can split up as needed.”
Matt was already headed for his car, Killer at his heels.
* * *
Meg staggered into the Yankee encampment; there seemed to be no one around. She fell to her knees holding Lara and then struggled back up again. She made her way to the medical tent. She knew that at least she’d find a cot and blankets for Lara.
She burst into the tent, which was as quiet as the rest of the camp. The encampment tents couldn’t be far and she’d venture over there later. But first, Lara.
She laid her friend on one of the surgical cots and wrapped a blanket around her. A Union doctor’s uniform coat hung on the back of one of the chairs. She put it on; it was mammoth on her and scratchy—real wool, she remembered—but it was warm and it covered her. She looked around for something to conceal Lara. She’d have to leave her here alone while she went to get help, and she was afraid to do that.
Matt would have checked on her when he came back to the B and B. She was very certain that no one had broken into the MacAndrew house; the killer had been inside all the time. Matt would be on the hunt for her, but the killer would be, too.
“Halt! Who goes there?” she heard.
She turned around. A man in a private’s uniform, carrying a lantern and an Enfield, was staring at her from just outside the tent.
Help was here.
“Sir, my name is Meg Murray, Special Agent Meg Murray. I need you to alert the camp. Please! My friend may be dying.”
“Is this some kind of prank?” the man demanded, dropping his Civil War stance. “This is private property specifically rented for the encampment. It’s not a playground for college games.”