Chapter Twenty- One
Linus, Lake, and Greta rode together in his truck, trailing Eastlyn’s caravan of volunteers at breakneck speed along a narrow, windy road. The drive was tense, each passing minute amplifying their worry for Abby’s safety. Not even the beautiful, serene woods could take the edge off. No one wanted to voice what seemed to be a prevailing concern—that she was already dead, and they were too late to save her.
“Did you ever wonder back then why you kept turning down Derrick’s offer to come up here?” Lake wondered.
“I don’t know. Something always felt off.”
“That’s not what you said when Lake told you about him burying something in the backyard,” Greta conveyed from the back seat.
“I know that,” Linus snapped, his fingers going white on the steering wheel. “Don’t you think I haven’t kicked myself over and over because I couldn’t see him as a killer?”
“But there was something…?” Lake insisted. “Think back to that time. What was it that kept Derrick from moving into your inner circle?”
“Well, I’m not sure I had an inner circle at the time. But for one thing, he was too pushy. It seemed to me that he always zeroed in on me at the bar. Why not Brad Radcliff or Paul Bonner or any number of other guys who hung out at McCready’s back then?”
“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.
“There’s a staircase leading down to the lower level,” Lake pointed out. “Maybe Abby’s tied up or something and can’t reply. Should we go down there?”
“We have to check it out,” Linus said, his hand gripping the flashlight. He led the way, cautiously descending the concrete stairs. Halfway to the bottom, the air grew cooler and more oppressive. The musty scent of damp earth and decay was overwhelming as they reached the basement. The dim light from the flashlight created eerie reflections on the walls, making the space feel otherworldly, even ghostly.
Their footsteps resonated off the dingy walls. The only other sound was the echoing slow drip of water somewhere within the old plumbing.
Sticking together, they explored the intricate labyrinth of the lower level which consisted of doors lining each side of the hallway, some hanging off their hinges, others firmly shut.
Lake’s heart pounded in her chest as Linus opened each small room, only to find it empty. Moving further into the bowels of the dungeon-like basement, she shivered, feeling an icy breeze brush past her, raising goosebumps on her flesh.
A sudden faint sound reached Linus. “Do you hear that?”
“Yes,” Lake whispered, pointing to the door farthest down the corridor. “It sounded like a muffled whimper coming from that one, the last one on the left.”
Without hesitation, Linus turned the knob, revealing a small cell-like room with a single candle, their silhouettes flickering off the walls.
Abby was bound to a chair and gagged, her face streaked with tears, eyes wide with fear. She’d spent hours trying to scream through the cloth in her mouth.
Linus reached her first, quickly ripping the gag off, then trying to untie her bindings, his hands working deftly in the dim light of the candle.
Once free, Abby flung herself into his arms, trembling with relief and fear. “Hurry. He’s coming back,” she gasped, her voice hoarse and ragged. “Derrick Kingsley is coming back to kill me. We have to go now.”
Linus helped Abby get to her feet. “Don’t worry. You’re safe. He’s not coming back. Derrick’s been arrested. You’re okay.”
“He’s telling the truth,” Lake affirmed. “We came to take you out of this place.”
“How did you know where to find me?”
Lake smiled over at Linus. “I guess Derrick ran his mouth once too often, and thankfully, somebody was listening. Let’s get you some water and get you out of here.”
With Lake’s help, Abby made it a few steps to the door but stumbled when she spotted Greta standing in the hallway. “You were going to be next. He told me he was coming after you.” She turned back toward Lake. “And you. He wanted the person who dug up Bella.”
Greta traded looks with Lake and Linus as she wrapped an arm around Abby’s waist to help her to the stairs. “Guess what? I saw him get arrested. He’s not coming after anybody. He’s done. Toast. He’s a serial killer, Abby. You survived an encounter with a serial killer. You’ll probably be interviewed on TV: The woman who survived Derrick Kingsley. I wouldn’t mind interviewing you myself for TikTok.”
Lake swatted Greta’s arm. “Give it a rest, will you? Nobody wants to be on TikTok.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute,” Greta returned mildly. “I could make stars out of the people who saved Abby Anderson. Linus, what about you?”
Linus grinned. “No thanks, I’ll pass. I’ve had all the excitement I can take for one day.”
“Fine. I’ll interview my parents then, ask them how it feels to know their house was remodeled by a serial killer.”
“There you go,” Lake said. “Make your way around town and ask Ryder, Troy, and Zach how it felt working with him every day.”
Greta’s eyes went wide. “Great idea. I could start when we get back to town.”
Abby rolled her eyes. “All I want is a hot shower and some food and all you can think about is gaining more followers on TikTok. I remember when it was all about stupid dance videos and lip-syncing.”
“That’s so yesterday,” Greta said. “Life on the edge, baby.”
“Something tells me you’d be singing a different tune if it was you we were dragging out of here after getting tied to a chair and stuck in a dirty room for almost eighteen hours instead of Abby,” Lake pointed out.
Greta’s face went suddenly white as realization sunk in. “It could’ve been me in that stinky place.”
“Exactly. Now ask yourself if you want a horde of press with microphones sticking them in your face at your most vulnerable,” Linus reiterated.
Greta looked over at Abby’s disheveled state and let out a sigh. “Okay, okay. I get it. If there are reporters out there, I won’t let them anywhere near you.”
For the first time, Abby smiled. “You’re a real friend. Now go get me some water.”