Intimate Betrayal (37 page)

“
Sam
was her lover?” Annie said.

“Yes. My uncle knew it because he had caught them together in the choir loft of the old church that Reverend Acker used to
run. He’d seen them, naked. There was, like, no doubt.”

“Oh, wow,” Annie said.

“Later, Mrs. Carlyle begged him to remain silent. He gave his word of honor.

“Then she died. He was out of the country at the time; he didn’t know the details of the murder trial here. It wasn’t until
he returned and Mr. Carlyle was set free and he heard some
of the news coverage that he realized that no one had ever identified her lover, or even proved that she
had
a lover.

“So he asked me what I thought he should do. Should he go to the authorities and give them his information, or should he go
first to Mr. Brody and tell him that he wished to be released from his long-ago promise? We both thought the honorable thing
to do was talk to Mr. Brody first.” He paused. “Neither of us could imagine that Mr. Brody could be a killer.”

“So
did
he go to Sam?”

Vico nodded. “And Sam killed him the very next day.”

Matt had been silent and motionless during this revelation. Now, though, Annie heard him heave a deep breath.

“Show me the fastest way out of here, Vico,” he said.

“Matt, no!”

“This man was the best friend I’ve ever had. Or so I believed for over twenty years. I’m going to find him, and then, by God,
I’m going to deal with him in a manner the bastard will understand!”

Darcy not only copied the files off Sam’s computer onto a disk, she printed them out on the plotter. And then she reduced
and photocopied them for good measure. Nothing was going to happen to these babies—not if she had anything to say about it.

When she was sure that the evidence had been properly copied and printed and backed up, she searched Sam’s computer files
for anything else that might be incriminating.

When she came to his electronic mail software she viewed the log to check his recent messages. She noticed a couple to Paul
McEnerney, and she quickly called them up on the screen. But they were routine—nothing incriminating.

Then she noticed that Sam’s “trash” file, where old, unneeded messages are stored, was set to hold one hundred pieces of “trash.”
That was high. Her own was set to hold twenty. When that number was exceeded, the trash was automatically dumped.

She tried to call up files listed in “trash.” The software refused. They were no longer accessible from the e-mail program.

Remembering Matt’s tricks, though, she exited the e-mail program and used DOS commands to examine the contents of the directory
where the e-mail software was stored. Sure enough, the trashed files were still there. Apparently they didn’t actually get
deleted until the entire trash grouping was “dumped.”

There were eighty-nine old messages in Sam’s trash. Tedious though the process was, Darcy decided to go through them one by
one.

She was about two-thirds of the way through when she found what she was looking for. An e-mail from a year and a half ago
to Paul McEnerney with an attached file transfer: “I’m attaching my new version of the document. The utmost discretion is
advised.”

The file he’d attached was his fraudulent version of the cathedral CAD file.

“We’ve got him!” she crowed. “Sam and Paul McEnerney, we’ve got them both!”

Computers, she decided, were beautiful things.

She was about to close down the system and get out of there with the evidence when another file name caught her eye: “Fletcher.txt.”
She called it up and found a police record stating that one John Albert Fletcher had served a prison sentence in Florida for
sexual battery. The prison psychologist had noted that he was subject to “obsessive-compulsive behavior, especially regarding
women, and occasional delusional episodes.” He also had “difficulty
in controlling his aggressive impulses” and “episodes of homicidal ideation.”

Fletcher had had some treatment in prison, and was described by the same psychologist one year later as “much improved and
able to function in society.”

Sam had hired the guy, keeping quiet about what he knew. At one time this probably would have inspired admiration in her,
Darcy thought wryly. Good old Sam, what a fair and tolerant man.

Now all she could think was that Sam had known he could use these facts to his advantage. He’d hired a crook to manage a scam.

Meanwhile, Annie and Matt had gone running off to the cathedral in the middle of the night at the behest of a mental case.
The more she thought about it, the less she liked the idea.

Darcy had a sudden image of the tarot spread the last time she had laid out the deck. The Tower had kept coming up, even though
she did the spread again three times. The Tower exploding in a massive wave of destruction, with rocks and bodies hurled out
with tremendous force.

Darcy hurriedly copied the file on Fletcher onto her floppy disk and shut down Sam’s computer.

“There’s another way out,” said Vico. “If we crawl all the way down to the east entrance of the cathedral, we can enter one
of the basements under the north and the south bell towers. From there we go up the stairs to the bell-tower vestibule and
walk right out the west entrance door.”

“How do we know Fletcher won’t be waiting for us there, anticipating our plans?” Annie said.

“He can’t be everywhere.”

“Let’s do it,” Matt said. He was eager for action. Every time he thought of Sam’s betrayal, his brain started to boil.

Ironically, the words he remembered most vividly were his wife’s. It had been during one of those petty, sarcastic arguments
that married people tend to indulge in, always knowing the truest ways of striking the other person to the heart. Matt had
been reminiscing about his friendship with Sam—how old it was and how good it was to have one person he could always count
on.

“How can you claim he’s your friend when the two of you never talk and never spend any time together?” Francesca had asked.
“I don’t consider another woman my friend unless we chat on the phone at least once a week.”

“I don’t have to see Sam or talk to him often to know that I can count on him if I need him.”

“How do you know that?” she’d persisted. “Just because you were roommates in college twenty years ago? People change.”

“Trustworthy people never change,” he’d said, somewhat acidly.

“You think so?” she’d said in an even nastier tone. “Then you’re a fool.”

Had she been making love to Sam at the time she’d spoken those words? Probably. Francesca had known that Sam’s loyalty was
false.

“Let’s not get sidetracked on Fletcher,” Matt said. “Much as I’d like to strangle him for what he did to Annie—” his eyes
burned as he looked at her, “our real problem here is
Sam. I say we get out of here as quickly as possible and take Vico and the two versions of the blueprints to the district
attorney.”

“Follow me, then,” Vico said. “I’ll lead you out.”

Annie really didn’t want to do it. She was just beginning to feel comfortable in Vico’s cozy little sanctuary under the chapel.
Crawling again on her hands and knees through San Francisco bedrock and dirt—which was cold, so cold—made her think of the
grave. She felt trapped in a tomb, rock overhead, black earth beneath, utter blackness all around her, surrounded by creatures
that live in the dark. How could Vico have spent three weeks down here? The very thought of it made her want to start screaming
and never stop.

“What’s the matter, Annie?” Matt’s voice was gentle.

“I’m not sure I can do this.”

“I’m here. Right beside you.”

“What if there’s an earthquake?” She knew it was a stupid question. The remote possibility of an earthquake was the least
of their problems now. “We’ll be crushed.”

“I know how you feel,” he said soothingly. “When I was locked in that tiny cell day after day, month after month, I thought
I’d start tearing out the walls with my bare hands. I was sure I was going insane.” He paused. Annie couldn’t see, but she
could feel his hands squeezing her shoulders. “It’s truly amazing what the human spirit can tolerate.”

“Matt, I’m sorry, I don’t want to let you all down, but I just don’t think I can do this.”

“I love you, Annie. With me at your side, I promise you, there’s nothing you can’t do.”

His words uplifted her and gave her courage.
Okay,
she thought.
Okay, I’ll try.

With her heart in her mouth, she began to crawl.

It felt like the hardest thing she’d ever done, but somehow she made it with the others to the far end of the nave. She had
grown increasingly disoriented in the dark, but Vico assured them that they were now near the north bell tower, where there
was an exit into the bell-tower basement.

Annie’s heart sank when she heard him say, “Shit. They’ve blocked it.”

“With what?” Matt’s voice was analytical, ready to problem-solve. He also sounded impatient. “Can we get through?”

“Feels like bricks and fresh mortar. No, it’s solid. The damn stuff sets very fast. They’re trying to trap us down here.”

Oh God. Annie lay on her belly in the darkness and felt the panic wash through her. The crawl space was damp and musty, and
her flesh crept at the thought of the various insects that were probably invading her clothing right now, attracted to the
scent of her fear.

“Let’s try the south-tower basement,” Matt said.

“All right. No point in all of us going. I’ll crawl over there and check it. If it’s blocked too, I’ll be back and we’ll figure
out another way.”

“Is there another way?” Annie asked, trying to fight back her panic.

“At the east end of the cathedral there are a couple of other ways out,” Vico said. “But it’s also easier for them to catch
us back there.”

“Well, let’s check the south-tower basement first,” said Matt.

Vico was gone for ten minutes. Matt held both her and Paolina, whose voice was also sounding ragged. Annie tried
to worry about the girl instead of herself. It certainly couldn’t be easy to crawl through the foundations of the cathedral
on a pregnant stomach. But Paolina, though she was tired, did not seem afraid. Her trust in Vico, she declared, was unwavering.

“He’ll get us out, don’t worry,” she assured Annie.

“The same,” Vico said shortly when he returned. “They’re trying to trap us in here. We’ll have to go back to the east end
of the building.”

We’re never going to get out of here!
Annie thought.

But Matt was right there, holding her, speaking soothingly into her ear. “It’s gonna be okay,” he told her, and she clung
to that thought.

The long crawl back was almost unbearable. The smell of the dirt sickened Annie. The blackness pressed around her like a suffocating
glove, and it was hard for her to get her breath. She remembered all the stories she’d heard during the excavation about human
bones and evil omens. Some of the workmen had whispered that the site was cursed.

It’s a holy place,
she told herself sensibly.
It can’t be cursed.

At one point Matt’s flashlight caught the red glow of eyes staring at them in the distance. Rats. Predators waiting in the
darkness.

Vico heaved a stone at them and they scurried away.

As they once again neared the great cross of the cathedral, beyond which lay the cement-finished basements of the sanctuary
area, Annie felt her terror begin to calm. Logically, she knew that this was ridiculous, since the basement was likely to
contain the madman who had attacked Matt and very nearly raped her. But she found the thought of Jack Fletcher easier to contemplate
than the thought of spending any more time belly-crawling in the foundation.

Gradually, the ceiling got higher and the air smelled fresher. The gloom lightened ahead, and the sight of it was such a relief
to her that she began to crawl faster, eager to get to the light, eager to get
out.

But Matt grabbed her ankle. “Wait. We left no lights on behind us. Are there electric lights in the basement area, Vico?”

“Bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling at intervals, yeah,” he whispered. “Looks like they’re on now. It’s like I figured. They’re
waiting for us here because they know it’s our only way out.”

“No one’s got a flashlight on, I hope,” said Matt.

“We turned them off a ways back,” Vico replied.

A small pebble suddenly jumped into the air about a yard in front of Annie. It was followed almost instantly by a loud report.

“Shit!” Vico hissed. “Get back. He’s shooting at us!”

“Goddammit!” Matt said.

“I can hear you in there, crawling and scurrying like the rats you are,” a male voice called out from the basement area. Annie
recognized it: Jack Fletcher.

There was another
crack
and an explosion of dirt a few feet to the right of Matthew.

“Send Annie out,” Fletcher ordered. “She’s the only one I care about. The rest of you can rot under there.”

Lying with her chest to the cold ground and tears pricking her eyes, Annie was horrified to realize that she was tempted to
go, give up, surrender. Anything seemed preferable to spending another minute in here.

But Matt pulled her back with him, safely out of the range of the bullets. The four of them huddled together, and Matt
whispered, “There’s got to be another way out of here, Vico. What about heating ducts? Water mains? The ventilation system?
Have you investigated the entire substructure?”

Annie forced herself to focus. Vico was no expert on the kind of thing Matt was asking about. But she was—at least, she should
be.

There in the darkness, she concentrated, trying to visualize the engineering plans.
This is my building, dammit I know it
—
or I ought to, dammit. I know it cold.

Think!

“There’s a small trapdoor leading into the crawl space along the south wall,” she said slowly. “The water main comes in at
that point from the street. In the old church, which was less than half the size of this one, that was the only source of
water. But we’re connected to the water mains on the other side as well, in the basement proper near the water heater.”