Chapter Seven

Friday, December 19 2007

6:30 PM

"I'm going to have to leave you soon, Mrs. Stetson," McIlvaney said,
looking at his watch. He removed a box from his jacket. "It's nearly
time for my grand entrance."

After spending nearly an hour in this man's company there was one
thing that Amanda was absolutely sure of-the Reverend Liam McIlvaney
was full of himself. He'd spent the last hour talking to her about
his church, his family, his supposedly God-given mission and how very
clever he was-all the while knowing that she was unable to answer
back. Amanda had pretended to listen, at the same time she kept
trying to loosen the ropes which held her wrists and entertaining
visions of knocking the Reverend over the head with something.

"You see these sugarplums?" McIlvaney said, shaking the box. "They're
going to be put into the children's goody-bags. I think sugarplums are
so appropriate for The Nutcracker, don't you? And these sugarplums are
very special. The children who eat them will soon learn the deadly
price for the sins they've committed. Any last words for me, Mrs.
Stetson? Nothing?" His hand cupped Amanda's chin tightly, forcing her
to look him in the eyes.

"I really do wish I had more time to talk to you," McIlvaney said.
"Still, I suppose all good things must come to an end. And don't worry
about your daughter and the others-their deaths will be part of a
beautiful sacrifice."

Amanda felt the ropes on her wrists becoming damp and slick. She
wasn't sure if it was blood or sweat, but maybe they would slip just
enough to help her get out. Gritting her teeth against the pain,
Amanda struggled even harder. McIlvaney watched her struggles with
obvious amusement.

"Even if you did get out," he said, placing the wig and the glasses on
his head and once more becoming the elderly janitor. "It would
already be too late. And don't think about that troublesome husband of
yours coming to rescue you-my disciple Mr. Hunter will take care of
him. Have a nice rest, Mrs. Stetson." He turned off the light bulb,
closing the door. Amanda's feet rested on the door. She heard Reverend
McIlvaney lock the door, leaving her trapped in the darkness.

What was she going to do? Amanda thought. The ropes weren't getting
any looser and she was running out of time. Her hands and fingers were
growing numb, and her upper back was aching from being in this
semi-reclining position for so long. Amanda tried to shift and her
bound legs thumped against the closet door, making a soft thud.
That was it! Propping herself up on her elbows, her fatigue and pain
forgotten, Amanda bent her legs and straightened them, thumping her
feet hard against the door.

Someone had to hear her eventually.

6:40 PM

Jenna hadn't been exaggerating about the kitchen, Lee thought. It
really was a mess. The oven was open -a cupcake pan lay facedown on
the floor. Flour was everywhere, along with splatters of dough. And
three sets of footprints, one set that Lee recognized as belonging to
Amanda. Whatever had happened here, it was obvious that there had been
a struggle.

A soft groaning noise startled Lee. "Amanda?" he called out, looking
around. There was silence. "Where are you?" Lee said.

The sound came again-from behind him. Lee's blood ran cold –the sound
reminded him of a wounded animal. But where- suddenly Lee noticed the
supply closet in the corner. Knocking away the brooms and the buckets
that were leaning against it he opened the door, praying that Amanda
wasn't too badly hurt.

But instead of Amanda Lee saw the battered form of Lillian Jager. Lee
pulled the woman out of the closet as gently as he could, laying her
on the floor. She had been stabbed, the wounds making several rips in
the front of her leotard, blood spreading out from the wound sites.
The dance teacher's eyes widened in recognition as she saw him.

"Mr. Stetson," Lillian said. Her words came in gasps, air forcing
itself from her lungs. "Mr. Hunter-he took your wife- tried to stop
him- he was too strong."

"Did you see where he took her?" Lee said.

"No," Lillian said. "Tell her- so sorry…" The woman's voice faded
away and her eyes closed for the last time.

A man's arm tried to grab Lee from behind. Lee grabbed the arm
instead, pulling it closer while his other elbow rammed into the man's
solar plexus. Lee turned around to see Brad Hunter doubled over on
the floor, trying to pull an already bloody knife from his pocket.
With a quick motion Lee twisted the man's wrist, forcing him to drop
the knife. He then pulled Mr. Hunter up by his collar and dragged him,
finally slamming the other man up against the wall.

"Tell me where my wife is," Lee said.

"I'm sorry but that's not within my power," Mr. Hunter gasped. "I'm
only here to help him carry out his vengeance."

Lee pressed his forearm into the man's throat. "The only vengeance you
should be thinking about is mine, Mr. Hunter. Where is she?"

"Nice try, but I'm not the only player, Stetson," Mr. Hunter gasped
as Lee's arm pressed even tighter. "He has your wife now, and he will
be victorious."

"Who has my wife now?" Lee said, shaking Brad Hunter slightly as he
spoke. Without any warning Hunter began babbling, making incoherent
sounds as his weight sank to the ground. Lee took a pair of handcuffs
from his belt, fastening the man's wrist to a nearby radiator. Hunter
could wait; right now finding Amanda was the most important thing.
Taking out his cell phone, Lee placed a call to The Agency.

7:15 PM

"Mr. Stetson, I'm so sorry," Shelley Hunter wiped the tears from her
eyes as she spoke. "I knew there was something wrong with my
brother-he was very agitated and wouldn't take his medication anymore,
but this- I never thought he'd go this far."

"I know," Lee said, moving from the kitchen doorway as the coroners
carried the covered body of Lillian Jager out of the room. Brad Hunter
was in a straitjacket now, still babbling as he was led from the room.

"We'll have to cancel the dress rehearsal," Shelley said. "Might even
have to cancel the ballet, at this point I just don't know. I'm just
glad that none of the children or their parents saw this."

"Ms. Hunter," Lee said. "The police-they don't think that your brother
was working alone. Do you have any idea who else may have been a part
of this or where he may have taken Amanda?"

Shelley shook her head. "If he was working with anyone he never told
me," she said. "He had a room on the second floor of the theater, what
he called his private room'. Brad never let me up there and I-I
didn't want to pry."

A private room, Lee thought. That's probably where Amanda was being
kept. He left the now-sobbing Mrs. Hunter to Francine and Billy and
strode down the corridor toward the stairs, his gun drawn. He had to
hurry-something told him that he was running out of time.

7:20 PM

Dressed in her sweat suit again, Jenna watched as Grandma carefully
put her yellow dress back in the garment bag and zipped it up.
Ordinarily she'd be very upset about dress rehearsal being cancelled,
but right now she only felt numb.

"This is only temporary," Grandma said. "That dress looks so pretty on
you- I'm sure you'll have a chance to wear it again."

"Yeah, probably," Jenna said. But right at the moment the dress was
the last thing on her mind. The room was full of the chatter of girls
and their moms as they packed their things away and prepared to leave.
Their moms-Jenna heard the sound of Lisa and her mother laughing
together and it made her want to cry all over again.

"It's not the ballet, is it?" Grandma said.

"No, it's not the ballet," Jenna said.

"Jenna listen to me," Grandma said. "Your father will find your
mother-I promise you that if anyone can do it, he can. Please don't
worry."

"But I can't help worrying," Jenna said. "I just- I want mom to be
here and to be okay, Grandma. I don't think I even want to do the
ballet if she's not."

"Don't think like that. Your mother will be just fine," Grandma said
firmly, taking Jenna's hands in her own. "Remember when-" suddenly she
frowned, placing the back of her hand against Jenna's forehead.
"Darling, you're awfully warm."

"I feel fine," Jenna lied, wishing she could remember where she'd put
that Tylenol. In all the activity and worry she'd completely forgotten
to take it.

"This has got to be the worst-run production of The Nutcracker I've
ever seen!" Debbie Morgan strode into the dressing room with Terri in
tow, slamming the door with a thud. She was still dressed in her
costume, a long emerald gown and a matching headdress that seemed to
quiver with indignation as she spoke. "I can't find Mr. Hunter
anywhere, or the teacher-the dress rehearsal's cancelled and no one
will tell me why-and to top it all off, Mrs. Stetson just decided to
flake out and abandon us!"

"Don't say that," Jenna said, but Mrs. Morgan ignored her as she
carried on with her tirade, raising her voice even louder.

"My husband and I have got Jill Klatchen from the Washington Post out
in the audience and she's expecting to see Terri's dress rehearsal at
8:00 PM. Except now that's not going to happen, apparently. Can anyone
here tell me just what the hell is going on?"

Dead silence fell over the dressing room for a moment, everyone too
shocked to speak. Jenna watched as Grandma slowly rose to her feet and
walked over to Debbie Morgan.

"Mrs. Morgan," Grandma said. "Everyone here is doing their best to
help and all I've heard you do is complain. With all due respect, I'm
asking you to put a sock in it."

The entire dressing room, parents and children included, broke into
applause. Mrs. Morgan's face reddened. Still holding Terri, she
stormed out of the dressing room, nearly bumping into Mr. Townley the
janitor. He was carrying a box full of little red and green bags,
each one tied with a silver ribbon.

"Excuse me, ladies," he said. "But I just wanted to make sure that
the children received their goody-bags-they deserve them even if the
dress rehearsal's cancelled."

"Thank you, Mr. Townley," Grandma said, taking the box. "I'm sure
they'll all appreciate that."

"It's just a little gift," the janitor said, with a small smile. "Oh,
and I almost forgot. Mrs. Jager needs Jenna onstage right away."

"Just Jenna?" Grandma said.

"Just Jenna," Mr. Townley said. "Something about the choreography for
the maypole dance."

Jenna felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Was she in
trouble? Jenna knew that she'd gotten a little confused on the Maypole
dance today, but she didn't honestly think it had been that bad.

"Mrs. West, could you help my daughter with her dress?" A young woman
asked Grandma. "I'm trying to pull the zipper down and I think it's
stuck on the material-I don't want to rip it."

Grandma hesitated. "I don't think that Jenna should go onstage all by
herself," she said.

Mr. Townley stepped in. "I'll take Jenna," he said. "She'll be safe
with me, I promise."

7:25 PM

"It's pretty dark in here," Jenna said as they entered the auditorium.

"Nothing to worry about," Mr. Townley said. "There's a light onstage,
I promise you." As Jenna got closer she could see that the janitor was
right. It wasn't much of a light, but it was better than nothing.

"She's right up there, Jenna. Waiting for you," Mr. Townley pointed to
the steps leading up to the stage. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have
to go and clean the restrooms."

"Mr. Townley!" Jenna whispered, but he didn't answer. She really
didn't want to be alone in this auditorium, and she couldn't see Mrs.
Jager anywhere. Maybe Mr. Townley had been wrong? Jenna started to
walk up the steps leading to the stairs, noticing that her legs were
beginning to cramp again. She was shivering too.

"Mrs. Jager," Jenna called out as loudly as she could. Her voice
echoed throughout the room. "It's me, I'm here."

The last seconds were little more than a blur. Jenna saw a dark shape
behind her, and gasped at the sudden sharp pain in right her arm. Her
legs collapsed under her and the room began to spin. The last thing
that Jenna remembered was the janitor's smiling face as he bent over her.

"Help me," she tried to say, but her mouth was unable to form the
right words. The janitor's face seemed to grow larger in front of her
eyes, his features twisting and distorting….

After that there was only darkness.

TBC