Prophecy: Rapture Page 11

  She smiled. “He always has.”

  * * *

  Kyla ran a hand over Joe’s cheek, and he opened his eyes again and smiled at her weakly.

  “Some protector,” he grumbled.

  “No, you were wonderful,” she crooned to him as he had done for her so many times. “It’s almost over. You know what we have to do.”

  “What about the others?” Joe asked.

  “They weren’t here.”

  “Forensics—”

  Kyla placed her fingers over his mouth, stilling his protest. “Don’t worry. You protected me. I’ll protect them.”

  Joe nodded. “I should have known you would.”

  “Joe, I need you to do something. It’s going to hurt, but it’s important.”

  He glanced at her in confusion.

  “Rub your wrists against the strips. It can’t look like we put them on you after.”

  Joe nodded and set to work. “How’s Stacie?” he asked her.

  Kyla reached out to her. Stacie was failing fast, but she wasn’t alone. Heather was there. She cradled the injured woman as if she were a child. Heather held her hand out to Kyla, and Kyla stepped into the mist.

  “You did well,” Heather told her. “You’ve almost completed your mission. I’m proud of you.”

  “Cole?” Kyla asked her.

  “No, he is a happy consequence, as are the priests. You have a particular flair for this.”

  “I don’t understand. Who was I supposed to change?”

  Heather smiled warmly. “You’ll figure that out in time. For now, Stacie needs me. She’ll have more work before she reaches peace, but she’s well on her way. Go. Joe needs you.”

  Kyla nodded and released Heather’s hand. The vision faded away.

  “She won’t make it, but she’s okay with that.”

  Joe nodded. “I don’t suppose it could have been any other way.”

  “Probably not.”

  Kyla laid down next to him and put her head on his chest. “It won’t be long,” she promised him.

  Joe moved his arms so that she had to pull back. Then he wrapped his arms around her. She nestled into his chest. This was where she belonged.

  * * *

  Leo’s cell phone rang, and he put it to his ear. “Waters,” he barked his usual greeting into it.

  “Waters, it’s Rodriguez. If you want to see the end of your mystery disappearance, get to the convent at Galway College.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “A priest just called in. It sounds on the level. I’ve sent a unit to the college, but you’re closer. I’ve also sent a unit to the priest, but I figure you’ll get to that later. He says there are injuries.”

  “I’m on my way. Thanks.”

  Leo beat the squad car by only a few minutes. Even before they reached the front door, they could see the first body down, crumpled below an open window with a fan of blood on the wall above it.

  Leo pulled on body armor from the trunk of his car. “Call for backup and for ambulances. I’m going to try to go in.”

  “Is that wise?” one of the younger officers asked him.

  “No, but if anyone is still alive in there...” Like Kyla and Joe.

  Whatever had happened before the police arrived aside, no one seemed inclined to stop him from entering the convent. In fact, Leo found the door unlocked. He started across the great hall inside the door. A man appeared at the far end. Leo raised his gun and challenged the other man, but he held up his hands in defeat.

  “I mean you no harm, Detective Waters. If you want to save lives, come with me.”

  Leo lowered his gun slightly. “Bishop Johnson?” he asked.

  “Call me Brian, please. I’m not worthy of that title. I haven’t been for a long time. Tell your men to come straight in when the ambulances arrive. We’ll need several, I’m afraid.”

  Leo followed him. What kind of game was this man playing? “What happened here?”

  “Shouldn’t you read me my rights first?” the bishop answered.

  “If you wish.” Leo complied. “Do you understand these rights?” he asked.

  “Yes, I do,” Brian answered. He opened the door to a huge library.

  Inside the door, Leo got his first surprise. Reverend Steven Cole sat against the wall. A dead man lay beside him, and the minister cradled a seriously injured woman in his arms. He rocked her back and forth and wept.

  Cole met his eyes. “Do something, please.”

  Leo felt for a pulse. “I’m sorry,” he told the minister. “It’s too late.”

  Cole didn’t seem to hear him. “My fault. All my fault.”

  Leo looked back at Brian, and the man averted his eyes. “Kyla?”

  “Over there.” The bishop looked toward the center of the room.

  On the other side of a settee, which was bathed in someone’s blood, Kyla and Joe lay together. Their arms were bound, but they were nestled together on the rug.

  Leo’s breath caught in his throat. Kyla looked like she had been through a war. Joe had an injury Leo suspected would turn out to be a serious gunshot wound once it was uncovered. What the hell was going on here?

  Leo cradled his radio. “Get me two ambulances, a couple of squad cars, the ME, and forensics up here,” he ordered the men outside.

  Leo stretched out a hand and checked Joe’s pulse. It was slow but slightly twitchy. He moved to Kyla, but she jumped at his touch and shrank closer to Joe.

  “It’s okay, Kyla. My name is Detective Waters. I’m here to help.”

  She nodded, then turned her attention to Joe. He was unconscious, but Kyla seemed content that he was still alive. She looked at Leo with a mixture of gratitude and relief. “I’d shake hands, but—” She looked at her wrists.

  “The ambulance will be here soon. They’ll have scissors,” he told her.

  “Take Joe first.” There was a hard edge to her voice and her eyes.

  “The EMTs will evaluate—”

  “Joe goes first,” Kyla demanded.

  Leo thought she was hysterical at first, but she made more sense than that.

  “Please. I know it doesn’t look it, but his injuries are much worse than mine. If anything happens to him...” Tears welled up in her eyes.

  Leo nodded. “He goes first. I promise. Relax, now.”

  She closed her eyes and sank back into Joe’s embrace.

  Matthew was right, he thought. Kyla found the right one, after all.

  Leo noticed the diamond ring and glanced back at Joe’s face. You better not die, he thought fervently. I know someone who wants to shake your hand.

  * * *

  The EMTs followed the uniformed officer through the great hall to the library. A thorough sweep by the other officers had netted six bodies outside, none for them. This was a massacre.

  The officer’s radio sprang to life. “Found another enclave. Three more dead in and around a chapel.”

  The officer leading them answered. “Add that to Waters’ four at the library and the ones outside, and we have thirteen dead, two injured, and two with a lot of explaining to do.”

  “I’ll keep looking. There may be more.”

  “I hope not.”

  A new voice came over the circuit. “Christ, there’s two more upstairs.”

  A voice that held the sound of authority barked new orders. “Don’t touch anything, Bokowski. Let forensics deal with it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The library opened before them, and Waters waved them over. “This way.”

  Casey Brown glanced at the scene briefly, gaping at Steven Cole and the bishop — both in cuffs — before following Waters’ directions. The two on the floor were embraced as if, had they died, it was where they chose to be.

  “Unbelievable,” Casey whispered.

  “No shit,” his partner, Charlie, replied in awe.

  Leo snapped at them and broke them out of their reverie. “Come on. Cut those strips. He goes first.”

  “We�
��ll decide—” Casey began.

  “We don’t have time for this. Move.” Waters ordered him.

  Casey was unaccustomed to being ordered around on his job like this, but he could tell Waters was not in the mood for an argument. He cut the zip strips off the two people and started checking them over. It would be a hard call, but the gunshot wound won out. He didn’t like where that bullet was. Casey worked to immobilize the leg while Charlie prepared him for the move.

  At first, Casey thought the girl was unconscious, but he realized she was watching him. He smiled her way, but she closed her eyes as tears tracked down her cheek.

  As they started wheeling the man out, word came that the other ambulance had arrived.

  “They’ll have you in a minute,” Casey told her.

  She nodded silently and wound her hand in the rug. They had almost reached the front door when the first explosion rocked the old building.

  * * *

  Kyla watched as Joe was wheeled out on the gurney. She gave them several minutes before she set to work.

  The convent was one of the oldest buildings on campus. The wiring was at least eighty years old, so it was easier than she’d thought to find weak areas in every quadrant and a central one.

  Kyla set off the furthest one first, the northeast corner. The intensity of the explosion surprised even her. She set off the second before Detective Waters even had a chance to scoop her up off the floor, southeast.

  The police officers were scrambling, checking in over the radio. One of them was screaming for Waters to answer them, but he couldn’t take that much time.

  Kyla waited to set off the third until the front door was in view, northwest. She didn’t want to get trapped, but she didn’t want anyone racing back inside either.

  Hitting the ground was painful, even with Waters breaking her fall. Kyla fought to stay conscious long enough to finish the job. She was vaguely aware of a door slamming shut, and she set off the final two fires in quick succession. There had to be nothing left.

  The EMTs were asking her questions Kyla couldn’t possibly focus on. She turned her head until she located Waters. He was nursing an injured arm, caused by the fall, no doubt. Kyla felt a pang of regret that she had injured him, but it was for a very good cause. The others had to be safe.

  Waters leaned toward her. “It will be okay,” he told her.

  “Yes,” she said, “I know.” Her voice sounded strange, far away as if it was disembodied. Or she was. Then the blackness rushed in, and Kyla thought of Molly.

  * * *

  Molly was playing in her room when she heard Kyla.

  “Molly, get ready. I’m coming home.”

  “Now? Here?” she asked her older sister excitedly.

  “No. Soon, though. You’ll have to come to me.”

  “Where?”

  “The hospital by the college. I’ll be there soon. Get ready.”

  “I will. I love you, Kyla.”

  “I love you, too. See you soon.” Then she was gone.

  Molly grabbed a backpack and threw in a few toys and a pack of cards. She ran to the kitchen. Mom looked at her strangely as Molly threw in packs of raisins and crackers.

  “What are you up to?” Mom asked her.

  “Getting ready.”

  “For what?” Mom followed her as Molly grabbed juice boxes from the fridge and dropped them in the backpack.

  “To see Kyla. We have to leave soon.”

  Mom’s face paled. “Leave for where?” she asked.

  “To the hospital by the college.”

  “Which college?”

  Molly thought about it and shrugged. “She didn’t say. Hers, I think.” She sprinted for the living room where Dad was watching TV. “Dad, I’m ready,” she announced.

  Dad looked at her blankly, then at Mom. “Ready?”

  “Kyla. She’s headed for a hospital by a college, and Molly wants to go,” Mom informed him.

  Dad took Molly in his arms. “Molly, I know you think Kyla spoke to you, but—”

  Mom interrupted him. “My God.”

  Dad followed her gaze to the television. The scene was one of complete confusion. Police and EMTs ran everywhere. A building was in flames. The voiceover announced that they were watching a replay of events from a quarter of an hour earlier. Then the reporter on the tape cut in.

  “We’re at Galway College where two explosions have rocked the convent building where police and emergency services were working. No news has been offered as to what brought them here or what caused the explosions.”

  The camera suddenly focused on a man coming out the front door of the building, cradling a young woman with fiery red hair. Another explosion rocked the building, and they fell.

  The reporter started talking again, but none of them were listening.

  The man struggled to his feet and ran for an ambulance. There was no question that the two were Detective Waters and Kyla. The ambulance sped away with them inside, and two more explosions erupted inside the building, raining down debris blocks away.

  Molly switched off the television. “I told you. Now can we go?”

  Dad started to cry.

  Chapter Thirty

  May 28th, morning

  Kyla had no idea how long she had been out. She looked around and found the controls for the hospital bed.

  She started raising her head but stopped when a sharp pain cut through her side. Kyla panted a few breaths and ran her fingertips over the bandage through the thin cloth of the hospital gown. They had stitched up the cut. The palms of her hands and her wrists were bandaged, and they ached appropriately.

  Her head spun. She pushed the call button.

  “Can I help you?” the nurse asked.

  “I’d like some water, please.” Kyla sank back into the pillow.

  “Just a minute. I’ll be right in.”

  The nurse breezed in with a pitcher of ice water and a cart. She popped the thermometer under Kyla’s tongue. Kyla found it nearly impossible to breathe through her nose. The machine beeped and she sucked in a ragged breath through her mouth.

  “Sorry about that.” The nurse smiled, and Kyla believed she really was sorry for it. “It’s nice to see you awake.”

  “Thanks. How long have I been out?” Kyla asked.

  “Fourteen hours, more or less. Probably the best thing for you, though.”

  Kyla nodded weakly as the nurse grabbed her left wrist to take her pulse. She stared at her hand, and the last of the mental fog cleared. “My ring. Where is my ring?”

  “Calm down. I’m sure it’s with your personal effects. Your father has them. I can ask him to bring it to you after you see the doctor.”

  “How’s Joe?” Kyla asked quietly.

  “Who?”

  A stab of fear raced through her mind. “Joe Connor,” she insisted. “He’s my husband, and I want to know if he’s okay.”

  The nurse seemed surprised by her outburst. “He’s not one of my patients. I’m sorry. I’ll check for you.”

  Kyla nodded.

  The nurse finished her work and handed Kyla a glass of water. “I’ll let you know as soon as I find out,” she promised.

  “Thank you,” Kyla answered quietly.

  * * *

  Victoria Price shook her head. Kyla was married? No one had mentioned it to Vic. She was sure she had frightened the girl to within an inch of her life for no good reason. Vic handed the chart off to Dr. Levin, who was showing up in response to her call that Kyla Keating was awake and lucid.

  She went to search out Matthew Keating. The man had sat by his daughter’s bedside for several hours, and he still refused to leave the hospital until she woke. He was sitting in the waiting room, staring mindlessly at the television with the bag of Kyla’s personal effects on his lap.

  Josie sat two seats over, deeply asleep with Molly snoozing on her lap.

  Matthew startled when he recognized her, and Vic put out her hands to calm him.

  “She’s awake. T
he doctor is with her,” she explained. “If she’s up to it, you can see her when he’s done.”

  “How is she?” Matthew asked anxiously.

  “Feisty.”

  “That’s my girl.” He cracked a wide grin. “Does she seem okay?”

  “Actually, she’s rather upset. Could you look in that bag for a ring? She made me promise to find it.”

  Matthew looked at her strangely, but he started rifling through the foul clothing. The shirt was ripped and stained with blood and God only knew what else.

  “Why do they even give these back?” he asked, as he wrinkled his nose.

  “I’m not sure. At the very least, they’re completely unusable. At most, they were only good to the police lab. They may still ask for something.”

  Matthew nodded. Suddenly, his face lit up. “I think I found it shoved into her jeans pocket.” He pulled it free and stared at it intently. Then he looked up at Vic with tears in his eyes. “I see why she wants it back.” Matthew handed the small diamond ring to her. “How is Joe?” he asked.

  “I’ll let you know as soon as I find out. Kyla asked that, too. I’m sorry. I didn’t know they were married. I would have found out before she woke, if I knew.”

  The look on his face told her that Matthew hadn’t known either. “I guess a lot has happened in the last six weeks,” he said.

  Vic nodded and closed her hand on the ring. “I’ll let you know when you can see her.” She walked away, shaking her head.

  * * *

  Kyla stared at Dr. Levin. He was a young doctor and very straightforward.

  “You’ve had a rough six weeks,” he decided.

  “Tell me about it.” She was trying to be civil, but she had never liked doctors.

  “Okay, I will.” He smiled warmly. “You broke three ribs.”

  “Then or now?” Kyla asked. They hadn’t wrapped them, but they hurt almost as bad, even if they weren’t broken this time.

  “Then. They’ve healed nicely, though. The pain you feel now is the laceration and some severe bruising. What other injuries did you have six weeks ago?”