Page 57 of Fatal Thrill
An hour later, they met in the main room of the castle again after Shelby radioed that she’d found something. Detective Maitland had yet to arrive, and the clouds outside had thickened and darkened, creating even heavier shadows in the highceiling.
Shelby held out what looked like a satchel made out of tapestry. “Look atthis.”
“A carpetbag?” Charlotte asked, touching the side. It was dirty, some of the design around the handles had nearly been rubbed away from use. “Did one of the Gypsies leave itbehind?”
Shelby undid the latch and opened it for all of them to peer into. The only thing inside was an old cellphone.
Dirt encrusted the keypad, like the thing had been buried at some point and dug back up. A jagged crack ran across the screen. Jon reached for it, but Shelby jerked the bag away. “It could have fingerprints.” She took latex gloves from her pocket and handed one to Jon. “Usethis.”
From the condition of the phone, he doubted there would be useable prints, even if someone had recently dug the thing up from wherever it had been buried. The likelihood of it having anything to do with Finn and Sean was slim, but he snapped on the glove and took thephone.
The thing was a dinosaur compared to current technology. “Where did you findit?”
“There’s a secret door in the fireplace mantel in the room I was in. It was stuffed inthere.”
“Looks like it’s been there for years,” Jaya said, studyingit.
The thing had no juice, which didn’t surprise him. “Let’s take it back with us and see if we can jerry rig a way to charge it. It’s probably nothing related to Finn’s kidnapping, but we’ll check itanyway.”
He dropped it back inside the carpetbag and Shelby latched it closedagain.
Jon hit his comm and spoke to Colton. “Any sign of life inside the church,Bells?”
“None.”
“Rogerthat.”
Jaya looked pale. Her eyes were as clouded as the sky outside. “Doesn’t mean there’s no onethere.”
Jon knew what she was seeing in her mind’s eye—Finn tied to a chair, beaten and unconscious. Worse, he could be dead likeFitzpatrick.
No way he was letting Jaya seethat.
Jon looked at Miles. “We’ll check the church. Shelby, Charlotte, Jaya? You guys head back to thecar.”
“No way,” Jaya said. “I’m going withyou.”
“Jaya…” Jon started, but she was having none ofit.
“Look, I know you think I can’t handle finding Finn…”—she swallowed hard—“whatever. He’s my brother and I’m going with you. If I was going to hide a priceless cross, it’s not a bad place to do it. So even if we don’t find Finn, we should look forthat.”
Charlotte snapped her fingers. “That’s brilliant! Hide it right under their noses and on sacredground.”
It had become apparent that arguing with Jaya was a fool’s game, and honestly, something about her idea sparked Jon’s instincts. Charlotte was right—it was a brilliant plan if you were trying to hide something valuable. Who would think to look at an abandoned castle’s rundown church or graveyard? The amount of superstition alone was enough to keep the locals away, and the fact that the place wasn’t visible from the road helped keep it out of sight of casualtourists.
He touched his comm unit. “Bells, we’re heading to the church. Keep an eye on the area and don’t shoot Detective Maitland when he shows up, gotit?”
“Fuck” Colton said under hisbreath.
“Bells!”
“Roger that, sourpuss. Just don’t whine to me when he kicks yourarseout ofIreland.”
The church squattedin a dense glen of overgrown trees and bushes with one singular tower marking its position. Jaya let Jon help her down what used to be a path, her feet tangling in the icy dead weeds. Here and there, through the rising fog and darkening sky, she spotted the tops of tombstones. Interspersed among the traditional Celtic crosses and markers were moss-covered altar stones denoting the wealthiest of the various owners through the later centuries who must have been largely Anglican. Angels were in abundance around a large burial vault south of the parsonage. Jaya could only guess at how many caskets wereinside.
The roof of the church had been overtaken by vegetation, causing the center to sink. Most of the plants were dead now, their brown, dried up stems and leaves looking like tiny skeletons. Vines climbed the brick tower where a large cross managed to still point skyward, if a bitslanted.
The double wooden doors on the front had been bolted shut at some point, but the iron had rusted and the lock was dented. Water had damaged the bottoms, some of the wood splitting and breakingoff.
