A Cross to Bear (12 page)

Frustrated and wanting to get to the bottom of it all, she called Steele Tower and asked to speak with the CEO.

“I’m sorry. Mr. Steele is out of town at a convention. He isn’t taking any appointments for the next week,” said the secretary.

“May I ask what convention he is attending?”

“I’m sorry, but Mr. Steele is a very private man. May I take a message?”

“No, thank you.”

Gabby hung up with a sigh. She was going to have to do more digging.

She went online to search for the elusive Mr. Steele. Three hours and many cups of coffee later, she found what she was looking for. A convention in Yellowstone was held annually. Lunar Circle, as it was named, turned out to be quite the hush-hush affair. She found only a few references to it, but the dates lined up. The group met every year in late spring during the week of the full moon at a place called Aurora Lodge in Wyoming—owned by one Michael Steele.

She googled the lodge, finding that it was part of a one-hundred-thousand-acre forest next to Yellowstone National Park.

This has to be it.

Gabby bit her nail as she considered what to do. The secretary had said that Michael would be out of town for a week, but that was too long to wait. She wanted answers now.

What would Maggy do? She would fly to Yellowstone and confront Michael.

Finding her resolve, Gabby called the nearest airport and booked the first flight to Yellowstone. She was informed that the first flight out of Chicago to her destination left at 6:00 p.m. That gave her three hours to prepare. She glanced out the window, wondering how she was going to elude the feds. In her bedroom, she packed a small bag of clothes and another bag with her recon supplies, in case she had to do any spying.

An hour later, a knock came at the door. She found Agent Jones standing on her porch.

“Ms. Cross. We have canceled the flight that you booked at 3:15 to Yellowstone. Your credit card has been reimbursed.”

“You what? You can’t do that.”

“Of course we can,” he said dryly. “You are under our protection until this investigation is over. You cannot leave the county. If you wish to leave the house, we will provide you with an escort.”

“I want to talk to the police. There’s no way this is legal.”

“I assure you, Ms. Cross, it is quite legal.”

She turned from him angrily and slammed the door.

Gabby paced the house furiously. She didn’t have time for this. She considered telling the feds about Michael Steele, but she knew that she could not. There would be no way to explain the armory of strange weapons downstairs, and she knew that once the feds got involved, she would be left in the dark.

Somehow she had to sneak out of the house and get to an airport. With the feds monitoring her like they were, it would be near impossible to buy a ticket under her name.

She stopped abruptly in her pacing and remembered the fake IDs in the secret room downstairs. There were credit cards as well . . . and the key!

Gabby ran down to the bedroom and grabbed the key out of the nightstand. She then flew down the stairs and lifted the bottle on the rack. She went down the secret stairs to the white room and found a file with her name on it. It held a driver’s license and passport, along with a credit card. The name on the documents was Melinda Stark.

“Hello, my name is Melinda, Melinda Stark,” she said to herself, practicing.

Now that she had what she needed to purchase tickets and get through TSA without notifying the feds, she set her mind to the task of sneaking out of the house. For good measure, she grabbed one of the many cell phones and an iPad in a leather attaché case. They might come in handy.

“What would Maggy do?” she wondered aloud.

She fingered the key in her pocket and looked around the sterile, glowing room. Knowing her sister, Maggy would have an escape route to get out of the house unseen. The strange assortment of weapons suggested that she was into some big-time shit. An escape route seemed only natural.

Gabby remembered the keyhole in the final drawer. She strode toward it slowly, tension and excitement building in her with every step. She opened the drawer, took the key from her pocket, inserted it, and gave it a turn.

Gabby jumped when a sound came from behind her. She whirled around and found that one of the floor panels had slid back, revealing a metal ladder that descended into darkness.

Cautiously she pocketed the key and inched her way over to the hole in the floor and peered down. It was too dark to see the bottom, so she took her phone out of her pocket and turned on the flashlight app. The drop proved to be no more than ten feet, with the ladder leading to a concrete floor. Gabby considered going down it to see where it ended up; she had to be sure that it led somewhere useful and not just to another room. She moved to the door and glanced up the stairs and listened. No sounds came from the house. With any luck, no one would come calling for some time. Before she lost her gumption, Gabby hurried to the hole and began down the ladder.

At the bottom, a tunnel led to the left. She followed it, flashing her light on the surrounding walls and ceiling. The passage was made entirely of concrete. Gabby found herself wondering how in the hell her sister had managed to build it.

Feeling very much like she was in
The Twilight Zone,
she continued on down the tunnel. It went on for perhaps twenty feet before coming to yet another ladder. Shining her light up, she found that the hatch had a circular handle, one that reminded her of a vault-locking mechanism. She climbed the ladder and turned the wheeled handle with one arm, while hooking the rung and trying to hold the phone with the other. After some coaxing, the wheel finally turned. A latch disengaged, and she pushed up hard.

The room above was pitch-dark. Gabby shined her light up into it and saw an aluminum ceiling. She carefully peeked her head out, looking this way and that quickly. When she found no one lurking in the shadows, she focused the light on the only object in the small room—a black Hummer. She climbed up into the room, which she deduced was one of the public storage sheds on the other side of the fence across from her house.

“Maggy, you clever, clever girl,” she said, laughing to herself.

A quick search of the Hummer revealed that not only was it unlocked, but the keys were under the visor as well. She had the documents and credit card, and now she had a way of escape. But first she had to get her things, and she couldn’t let the feds find the secret room. She would have to mislead them somehow.

Gabby returned to the tunnel and backtracked through the passage and glowing room, up the stairs to the wine cellar and then again to the house. She retrieved the bags that she had packed and went to the window to check on the feds. An agent stood in front of the door as before, and the two sedans and white van remained in place. Heart thumping, she returned to the bedroom and opened the window. She pushed out the screen for good measure and glanced around. No doubt the feds were patrolling the property, and they would soon find the open window. On further investigation, they would find that Gabby was missing. With any luck, they would assume she slipped out somehow through the bedroom and wouldn’t bother searching downstairs. Coming across the wine bottle that opened the secret door was unlikely anyway, unless one was specifically looking for it or got lucky and happened to take it off the shelf.

Feeling very much like a badass, Gabby returned through the secret passages to the storage shed and got in the Hummer. On the keychain, she found the button to open the big rolling doors. Without hesitation, she started the Hummer and gunned it.

Destination, Yellowstone.

Gabby had bought a ticket at Chicago O’Hare International Airport before the feds had so rudely canceled it on her. The plane was to leave at six, and it was now five. If she was going to make it, she would have to haul ass. As she sped down the freeway at eighty miles an hour, she called Quip on the phone that she had taken from her sister’s armory. To her dismay, the call went to voice mail.

Heeey, can’t come to the phone right n—
the line clicked.
“Gabs, is that you?”

“Hi, Quip.”

“Damn it girl, but you had me worried. Where you at?”

“On the interstate, headed to the airport.”

“Are you on your phone?”

“No. It’s one I found in the arm—it’s one of Maggy’s.”

“Do you have your phone with you?”

“Yes.”

“Get rid of it. Throw it out the window.”

“I’m not throwing away my phone. I paid a hundred—”

“You paying attention, girl? You know what kind of shit you is in? These are the fucking feds we’re talking about.
Throw it out!
”

“Okay, all right, shit!”

Gabby fished in her pocket for her phone and, with some hesitation, tossed it out the window.

“Is it gone?”

“Yeah, it’s gone,” said Gabby grudgingly.

“Good. You got any other devices?”

“No, just the ones I found . . .”

“You can say it, child. Just the ones you found in the
armory
.”

“How . . . how did you know? Who the hell are you?”

“Look, Gabby, you don’t know what you’re getting into here. Your sister was . . . let’s just say she was into some weird shit. You shouldn’t seek out Michael Steele.”

“Why not?”

“Jesus, girl. You paying attention? Your sister had an
armory
. She was ready for anything. And she’s dead. How long you think you’re going to last hunting down her killer?”

“I’ll take my chances. I owe her that much.”

“Come to my place. Don’t go to the airport. You’ll be safe here.”

Gabby found the offer very tempting. She should just hide out until this all blew over, and then she could finally go back to her life. She laughed. What life? A drunken rapist husband and a dead-end job? No, for once in her life, Gabby was going to see something through. She was going to find her sister’s killer, and then . . .

“You hear me? Get your ass to my place, and we’ll talk about what your next move should be.”

“I can’t,” Gabby heard herself say.

“Why are you Crosses so damned stubborn? You’re in over your head here.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll call you when I get to Yellowstone.”

“Gabby . . .”

“Good-bye, Quip.”

“Gabby!”

She hung up the phone and threw it on the passenger seat. The lights of Chicago illuminated the clouds only a few miles away. She turned on the radio, hoping for some pick-me-up music.

“It’s the end of the world as we know it
.”

Gabby scoffed and changed the channel.

“Killer on the road . . .”

The Doors’ haunting melody sent shivers down her spine, and she turned off the radio with a slap.

***

Gabby arrived at the airport at five thirty and parked the Hummer. She ran to the sales booth and purchased a ticket under the name Melinda Stark and hurried to the check-in. The many gloved TSA workers seemed menacing, and she found herself feeling guilty. Of course, they always made her feel that way, and knowing that whoever was working the X-ray scanner could see her naked body through her clothes gave her the creeps. She got in line and submitted to the hand swab. Her mind raced as she thought of all the strange weapons that she had touched in the white room. She tried to control her paranoia and breath.

“Go ahead,” said the TSA agent lazily.

“Thank you,” said Gabby, before realizing that no one said thank you in such a situation.

She got in line and put her things on the conveyer belt. Many nervous moments passed as the luggage went through the scanner. Thankfully she didn’t have to go through the peep-show body scanner and was given the green light by the agents.

Gabby grabbed her things and hurried to the gate.

Gabby got off the plane in Wyoming and immediately rented a car. She drove to the hotel closest to Aurora Lodge—in a town twenty miles away. She rented a room at a Super 8 and prepared herself for the task ahead. She could hardly believe that she was here. Though she was scared, she was electrified at the same time. Gabby had always led such a mundane life—the newfound adventure was proving to be intoxicating.

She dressed in dark pants and a dark long-sleeve shirt. She had at first intended on immediately confronting Michael about Lycaon and his true involvement with Maggy, but she was curious about the secret convention. She would have to sneak onto the property anyway, and she figured that she might as well do some spying before making herself known.

Her phone rang—it was Quip.

Gabby sighed and considered whether she should answer. Knowing that he would only try to talk her out of it, she decided not to. Instead she sent him a text saying that she had arrived in one piece and would call him later.

Gabby, please call me before you do something stupid!

She didn’t bother to reply. After turning down the volume and pocketing the phone, she grabbed her things and headed for the door before she lost her nerve.

***

The sun set as she drove the rental north down the rural highway. The day was warm, and the sky was clear. Gabby felt a rush of adrenaline when the estate came into view. Aurora Lodge loomed high above the surrounding forest. It was basically a mansion built of stone and wood. The decor screamed Michael Steele.

She did a drive-by, noting the gate and armed guards at the entrance. There was no way that she would be allowed in. The few articles she had found online said that it was strictly invite only. Gabby would have to find another way in.

She drove a quarter mile and pulled over to the side of the road. Seeing the thick forest that she would have to traverse, Gabby was glad that she had brought her hiking boots. She popped the hood and propped it up. If it looked as though she had broken down, perhaps the abandoned car would rouse less suspicion. With the ruse set in place, she grabbed her packs and hurried into the woods, heading in the direction of the lodge.

The forest was thick in these parts, mostly pine and birch and smaller bushes that hampered her travels and made her go slower than she would have liked. The sun was quickly setting in the east, and moonrise would be only a half hour later. The moon would give her ample light with which to see.