Chapter 17 - The Crypt at St. Jude’s
While emergency paramedics pumped Evelyn’s stomach on the upstairs Persian rug, Daniel dragged Claire into the library's basement access stairwell.
"Miller’s team is compromised," Daniel hissed, checking the cylinder of his revolver. "The champagne was poured inside this house after the state police secured the perimeter. Someone wearing a badge or an apron is feeding Marcus live coordinates."
"Where do we go?" Claire asked, adjusting Lily’s harness against her chest. Her baby girl was awake now, watching the shadows dance across the rough granite walls with wide, silent eyes.
"St. Jude’s parish," Daniel said grimly. "My father funded the construction of the memorial crypt beneath the church in 1999. He told me once that if the sky ever fell on our family, the only real vault was under the altar."
They slipped through the cellar's storm bulkhead, running low through the rain-soaked gardens toward Daniel’s unmarked vintage Land Cruiser parked behind the groundskeeper’s shed. The storm screamed overhead, drowning out the engine's low rumble as Daniel gunned the vehicle down the unpaved service track leading off the estate grounds.
Twenty minutes later, they pulled into the muddy gravel lot of St. Jude’s. The Gothic stone chapel rose against the stormy sky like a jagged black tooth. The stained-glass windows were dark, save for the faint amber glow filtering through the basement grates.
Daniel wedged the heavy iron crowbar into the parish side door, snapping the brass padlock with a sickening snap.
May you like
Inside, the scent of frankincense and damp masonry was overpowering. They followed the spiral stone stairs down into the crypt, where marble tombs of early Bennett ancestors rested in cold, aristocratic rows.
At the far end of the vault, beneath the marble likeness of Daniel’s grandfather, sat a modern steel fire-door, completely hidden behind a false sarcophagus panel.
