“Miss.” Drake’s tone was gentle. “Lord Burlington made us promise we’d bring you here straightaway. Those were his wishes.”
She swallowed her rebuttal at the image of Harrison powering up the crypt ramp, knowing full well he’d put himself at the mercy of dangerous thugs. She sagged against the seat. Oh, Harrison. What have you done?
This time as Drake made an effort to help her out of the car, she didn’t resist. She went with him numbly, mutely, and trembling with each step.
“Not to worry, miss.” Drake paused inside the front entry room. “They might bully the lord up a bit. But they wouldn’t dare hurt him in a bad way, eh. Not Lord Burlington.”
She managed a slight nod before stumbling forward. Although Drake meant his words as reassurance, they only stirred her fear.
One thing was certain. She could no longer doubt her dad or his theories. And she was sorry she ever had.
~ 8 ~
SHE SHOULDN’T have allowed Harrison to go with her inside the crypt. She should have made him wait with Bojing.
Marian stared past the tapestries out the bedroom window. Every external light that existed on the grounds of Chesterfield Park was on, pushing away the darkness of the evening hour. The sprawling front gardens were lit by ground laser lights. Beams all along the stone wall surrounded the estate. And on the road near the front gate, the headlights of several police cars added to the blazing display.
She should feel safer with the lights, security cameras, heavily locked doors and windows, and police presence. But her insides hadn’t stopped quavering. In the short time since she’d arrived in England, she’d been stalked, robbed, shot at, chased, and almost killed. As if that wasn’t enough, she’d crossed back in time. Three times.
And now, Harrison had been kidnapped. Bystanders at the crypt entrance had confirmed it to the police when they’d arrived at the cathedral. Unfortunately, the security guard had rushed to the nave at the sound of the gunfire and hadn’t been outside to intervene.
It hadn’t taken long for the news of Lord Burlington’s abduction to spread and for reporters to converge upon the estate. Drake had gone outside and had answered all the police and news reporter questions.
Of course, the police had needed to speak with her too. But neither she nor Drake had revealed the real reason why they’d been inside the crypt. They’d remained vague, telling the investigators that Mercer’s competitors were likely harassing them for information regarding one of Arthur’s drugs.
The police were waiting to escort her to the hospital so she could spend time with her dad and give him the holy water. She was ready to drive over as soon as the physician finished tending to Drake’s wound. She told Drake she would go by herself, that he should rest. But he was insisting on accompanying her.
She let the thick curtains fall back over the window and padded in her stocking feet across the hardwood floor to the canopied bed. She stopped at the edge and stared down at the items she’d retrieved from the crypt. Two ampullae filled with holy water. And not just any ampullae. The flasks contained the pictures of St. Thomas, identical to the one that had been in the safety deposit box.
The ampullae had been shocking enough, and at first she’d thought her dad had located the other two that existed in museums. But at the sight of the Rolex that had been with the flasks, her shock had risen to a new level.
She picked up the watch from the bed and ran a thumb across the scuffed glass front.
It was the same Rolex in the plastic bag the hospital staff had given her—the same shape, size, style, and with the same engraving of love from her and Ellen on the back. But instead of shiny silver with an equally shiny, sleek wristband, the watch was dusty, corroded, and had stopped working—almost as if it had been tucked away in the hiding spot in the crypt for hundreds of years.
She’d retrieved the bag of Dad’s possessions from her purse and dumped it out. The Rolex was still there, as were the ancient-looking coins. Even so, the evidence pointed to only one conclusion: her dad had placed the ampullae into the crypt and had added his Rolex. Perhaps he’d determined parchment couldn’t withstand the passing of time the same way a watch could. Or perhaps he’d wanted her to know beyond a shadow of a doubt he’d gone to the past.
Whatever the case, both flasks had been corked tightly, and she’d had a difficult time unsealing them. But once the corks were out, she’d been able to see the liquid inside. She estimated that each contained approximately a tablespoon, which wasn’t much. She couldn’t afford to lose a single drop. Since the corks had crumbled after removing them, she’d had to re-seal the flasks with rubber tops she’d found in Harrison’s home lab.
She’d bagged the cork pieces, having no doubt they contained residue from the holy water. In the morning, she planned to examine them under a microscope in Harrison’s lab. She wished she had time to do so before administering a dose to Dad tonight. But she couldn’t waste time.
Even though Dad’s message from the past wasn’t entirely clear, she suspected he’d meant for her to use one of the flasks of holy water to heal him of his coma. But what about the other ampulla? Did he want Ellen to drink it to see if it would heal her?
Thankfully, she’d soon be able to ask her dad the questions that had multiplied with each passing hour. At least she hoped once she administered the holy water, he’d recover from the coma quickly. She couldn’t be sure what would happen after the substance filtered through his system. Perhaps it would take some time for him to regain consciousness.
She returned the watch to the bed and skimmed a hand over the wrinkled papers that he’d left for her. The clues were making more sense now than the first time she’d read them.
She picked up the time-travel speculation sheet. “Number five: After studying historical examples of people experiencing visions, I’m convinced a person is able to envision/move to the same period on multiple occasions. Number six: Additionally, from what I’m able to decipher, the day and hour of the visions/movement correspond to the same day and hour on the various time-space intersections.”
Inadvertently, she’d tested rules five and six and found them to be true. Each of her visions—or crossings into the past—had corresponded to the same time frame. When it had been evening in the present, she’d experienced evening in the past. With May in the present, she’d witnessed May flowers in the past.
Was this the type of information Harrison’s abductors were after? Did they know about the ampullae? What would they do to Harrison in an effort to elicit the knowledge they wanted?
A shudder worked its way up her spine.
More likely they were after the drug for its ability to heal, not because it caused time crossovers. If the holy water had the power to heal—as depicted in the cathedral’s Miracle Windows—and if the properties could be replicated, the impact would be astounding. What if the water could not only heal VHL but all other serious genetic diseases? What if it could heal cancer or AIDS or diabetes?
If so, the holy water would easily turn into the most potent drug in the entire world. The person who took credit for the discovery could become the wealthiest person on earth—and possibly the most powerful. He could control the world, and there was no telling what would become of humanity.