Page 75 of Fire Harbor

“So you think he paid more attention to you than the other guys?” Lake prompted.

“Yeah, I did. I never got why. And it bugged me. He was always hanging around, waiting for me after my shift was over, or that’s how it seemed to me. That was before I was stationed out of the hospital. That was back when my buddies and I used to look for any dive after work where we could forget about having a rough twelve hours and unwind. Derrick was the reason I stopped going.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope. Several years back, I just gave up. Even though I enjoyed Durke’s place more than McCready’s—the live music was a plus, and the drinks weren’t as watered down as before—I decided to start having a beer in my own house on my own terms, so that’s what I did.”

Lake mulled that over before asking another round of questions. “How did Derrick describe the cabin? Were there any details that stood out, any that you remember specifically?”

“Mostly what I remember was the way he rambled on about it like it was some shrine to his childhood.”

“Did he ever mention the monastery other than to say the cabin was close by?”

“The monastery? Why all these questions?”

“Because I’m wondering if he left Abby at the monastery rather than a cabin where someone might stumble on her after hearing her scream,” Lake provided.

“Or cry out multiple times,” Greta added.

Linus couldn’t take his eyes off the narrow roadway, but he did slow down long enough to look at Lake. “The monastery would be a much better spot. From what I remember from Derrick, it’s not only difficult to access but virtually way off the main road and in ruins. You should text Eastlyn that. We could check it out while the others start looking around for cabins.”

Lake nodded and picked up her phone, keying in the suggestion. It didn’t take long for Eastlyn to respond. “She likes the idea. If for no other reason than to eliminate it as a possible dump site.” Lake swallowed hard and relayed the rest of the text. “She also adds that Derrick is refusing to talk. He hasn’t told Brent anything about Abby’s whereabouts.”

“That’s what I thought he’d do. Clam up,” Linus grumbled. “So what’s the plan?”

“She says Birk and Beckett have given her the location of several secluded cabins that might potentially be good places for Derrick to keep her hidden. They’ll start with those while we check out the monastery and then meet up afterward.”

They drove in silence the rest of the way until Lake spotted the old abbey sitting on top of the hill overlooking the valley. It was a forgotten and decaying fortress of faith, draped in emerald moss and guarded by the towering trees of the surrounding forest.

The former convent hadn’t seen a monk or a nun since the 1960s. It hadn’t been used as a boys’ school since the late 1990s. The attempt at a religious retreat only lasted long enough for the place to build a scandalous reputation for becoming more of a cult than a reclusive resort. Now, its weathered and crumbling stone walls were protected by a thick canopy of burned-out trees from the last wildfire.

Linus pulled his truck off the pavement and parked in front of an open iron gate. The property was surrounded by a stone wall like a castle and seemed to echo the ghostly prayers and forgotten secrets of its former life.

“What was this place again?” Greta asked. “Why is it in such bad shape?”

Lake had been searching online for an answer to that when her internet service dropped. “Now that I see it up close, I remember reading about this place once. The old monks died off and the young ones who remained ran out of money to keep it going. The locals tried to help as best as they could but couldn’t sustain the upkeep.”

“That explains what happened to the monks. But what about the boy’s school?”

“It had a bad reputation and troubles of its own making. Ditto the retreat.”

“Okay, I can believe that. But the land must be worth something,” Linus noted. “It is California, after all. Why is it sitting here rotting away like this?”

“Something about probate and not being able to determine who actually owns the land,” Lake muttered as she opened the door and hopped out of the truck.

Linus had the presence of mind to grab a flashlight from the glove compartment before climbing out. He skirted the hood and spotted fresh tire tracks in the dirt. “Those look recent.”

Greta looked over his shoulder. “Maybe Derrick was here with Abby, and this isn’t such a long shot after all.”

Whatever it had started out as, the once mighty fortress now resembled a church-like relic with a bell tower high above in disrepair. They followed an overgrown pathway full of weeds past gnarly trees to a courtyard strewn with pieces of busted furniture and an old fountain crumbling to pieces.

Peeling plaster greeted them as they stepped into the entryway. The windows were broken, leaving dark openings where knotted vines coiled around anything they could latch onto. The once intricate carvings on the walls were long faded, obscured by layers of moss or walls of ivy reaching for the leaky roof where streaks of sunlight peeked through gaps.

“Abby, are you in here?” Lake called out, her voice echoing throughout the deserted hallways.

“Abby, we’re here to help you get out of this place,” Linus shouted.

Greta picked up the same refrain and stood back listening for a response, but the three of them heard nothing.

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