Onyx Webb 10 Read online

  ONYX WEBB

  Book Ten

  Diandra Archer

  Contents

  GET ENTANGLED

  Wait. Where Were We?

  BOOK NINE

  Episode 29

  Dedicated to:

  Episode 30

  Episode 31

  Episode 32

  EPILOGUE...

  GET ENTANGLED

  About Diandra Archer…

  Lust for Living Press is an imprint of

  COURAGE CRAFTERS, INC.

  Copyright 2018 by Richard Fenton & Andrea Waltz.

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN 978-1-947814-09-7

  Except as permitted under the United States Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced or distributed in any form or by any means, or stored in a data base or retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher or authors.

  DISCLAIMER:

  This book is a work of fiction. And while some real locations, historical events, company names and easily recognizable public figures have been used, the story is strictly the product of the authors’ imaginations. Beyond that, any names and/or resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  GET ENTANGLED

  Visit Our Webb-Page

  www.OnyxWebb.com

  Wait. Where Were We?

  BOOK NINE

  Episode Twenty-Five:

  Convergence

  Koda and Beatrice Shaw get ready for the Solstice Eclipse Ball. Stormy Boyd is concerned with the mansion gate and brings the security team up to speed. Onyx has come to accept that Noah is gone forever, but finds herself dealing with a new issue—Noah’s waitress, Ellen. Wyatt Scrogger’s date with the hangman has finally arrived. Olympia prepares to interview Gerylyn for her new podcast, while being followed by Nathaniel. Though in pain, Declan records a message for Bruce and Koda. At Kara’s urging, Stan Lee plans to kill Declan. Newt and Maggie make the connection between the Leg Collector and the Southern Gentleman. Chloe surprises Bruce by bringing their daughter, Krissy, to the foundation event. Alec Yost gets bad news from his doctor. Mika talks her way into the party as the Southern Ggentleman’s guest.

  Episode Twenty-Six:

  Dinner is Served

  The event is stunning. Dinner is served by the queen of Low Country catering, Beatrice Shaw. Noah, Simon, and Gerylyn arrive late due to a winter storm. Juniper returns to the mansion to get help from Gerylyn about the dark entity that is after her. Declan’s pain worsens as the night continues. Newt and Maggie stop for gas, and a robber hits Maggie over the head and steals her car, stranding them at the station. Mika confronts Koda and faces the truth that she has no chance with him. Kara convinces Stan Lee that it’s finally time to kill Declan.

  Episode Twenty-Seven:

  Blood Moon

  Stormy searches for Stan Lee. Olympia uncovers a bedroom mirror, and chaos erupts when ghosts begin spreading into the mansion, taking energy from people and leaving them dead. Bruce leads a group of people to the panic room. Robyn and Tommy get Declan to the ambulance. Koda sees his mother and gets closure about her death. Juniper rescues the governor and then confronts the dark entity (Father Fanning). On the way to the hospital, Declan asks Tommy to end his suffering. Stan Lee escapes through the hidden door in the old art room, steals Beatrice’s catering truck, and ends up running Mika down after she crashes Koda’s Lamborghini.

  Episode Twenty-Eight:

  Battle of Light and Darkness

  The big showdown between Juniper and Father Fanning reaches its climax, with Juniper’s light banishing Fanning’s darkness forever. Pipi deals with the aftermath of the ghost attack and makes plans with Tommy, Newt, and Maggie for a cover up. They decide to say it was a gas leak. Krissy discovers her mother is dead, killed during the ghost attack—and that Bruce Mulvaney is her father and Koda is her half-brother. Gerylyn sleeps through the ghost attack. Domingo gets the exclusive of a lifetime that requires him to lie. Stan Lee trades Beatrice’s catering truck for kKetamine and successfully gets out of Charleston and heads for Chicago. Onyx deals with Ellen, who is looking for Noah. Newt and Maggie discover the secret tunnel. Wyatt’s lawyer gives him two vials of GHB, which make him unconscious, halting the execution. Noah flies back to Portland and burns Alistar’s notes and proposes to Onyx.

  “Each life is like a thread of a spider’s web, connected to the lives of others—imperceptibly, perhaps, but connected nonetheless—so much so that, when you touch the life of anyone, the whole universe begins to tremble.”

  –Onyx Webb

  Episode 29

  Wedding in the Cove

  Dedicated to:

  Artists & Creators Everywhere

  Artists, musicians, sculptors, painters, actors, and especially writers—fiction, non-fiction, bloggers, whoever you are and whatever you create…

  WE SALUTE YOU.

  We encourage you to continue, no matter how long or hard the road may seem at times.

  We honor you.

  We understand you.

  We are you.

  And to the following Onyx Webb

  “Super Fans”…

  Shannon Mulligan

  Mona Trombley

  Penny Olson

  Debby Pettus Prow

  Monna Lainson

  Lori Schmitt

  Sammy Curtis

  Mike Rice

  Jackie Correa

  Merrilyn McGloin

  Eric Smith

  Deborah O’Callaghan

  This Episode Dedicated to:

  Jeff Bezos

  On May 15, 1997, an online bookstore operating at a loss went public on the Nasdaq in an IPO that valued a modest $438 million.

  Twenty years later to the day this is being written, that little startup is the world’s biggest retailer—online or off—and worth over $450 billion.

  Thank you, Jeff.

  Thank you, Amazon.

  Talk about changing the game...

  And to the following Onyx Webb “Super Fans”…

  Shannon Mulligan

  Mona Trombley

  Penny Olson

  Without your support, Onyx would cease to exist.

  CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA

  DECEMBER 22, 2010 – 10:41 A.M.

  NEWT DRYSTAD WAS distressed that his boss, Pipi Esperanza, had placed the majority of her efforts on covering up the ghost attack at the Mulvaney mansion—with virtually no resources dedicated to tracking the Leg Collector.

  “Don’t push it, Newt,” Pipi said when Newt challenged her.

  “Well, someone has to,” Newt said. “Statistically, we’ve got forty-eight hours, or the trail goes—”

  “I know the numbers, Newt,” Pipi snapped.

  To most people, two days doesn’t sound like a long time, but every FBI agent was acutely aware of the statistic, which stated that if a homicide wasn’t solved in the first forty-eight hours, the chances of an arrest dropped by 59 percent.

  The clock had been ticking for thirty-three hours—a big head start to give an extremely crafty adversary.

  Driving at a steady sixty miles per hour—minus a few hours for sleep and stopping for gas—Newt calculated the Leg Collector could be as far away as Dallas, Milwaukee, or Portland, Maine. Or anywhere in between. That was assuming he hadn’t jumped on an airplane, in which case he could be anywhere in the world.

  And they still hadn’t entered the tunnel.

  “Newt’s right,” Maggie said. “Why is it taking so long to get a warrant?”

  Pipi didn’t respond. She just turned and walked away.

  “Pipi!” Maggie shouted.

  “Let her go,” Newt said, grabbing Maggie’s arm.

  “I don’t get it,” Maggie said.
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  “I do,” Newt said. “Pipi’s got a problem getting a warrant.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Maggie said. “We know the Southern Gentleman stabbed Declan Mulvaney and escaped through—oh, crap.”

  “That’s right,” Newt said. “Pipi sold the media on the story that Declan was knocked out by the gas and accidently fell on a dinner knife. There was no stabbing.”

  “And now, if she tells the truth, everything unravels,” Maggie said.

  “Exactly,” Newt said. “All lies come at a price, and now we’re paying it.”

  Six hours later, Pipi managed to pull a minor miracle—and enough strings—to get the search warrant signed by a judge. Pipi gathered the six people she wanted involved in the basement of the mansion. They included:

  •Newt

  •Maggie

  •Special Agent James

  •Special Agent Bond

  •Stormy Boyd

  •And herself

  “For the purposes of this search, Special Agent Drystad will be in charge,” Pipi said. “Newt.”

  Newt nodded and stepped forward. “First, I know waiting on the warrant has been frustrating for all of us, but it was the right thing to do. Taking the risk of having evidence tossed because we rushed in would have been a mistake.”

  Newt glanced at Pipi, and she nodded.

  “There are two assumptions we can make,” Newt said. “One, the tunnel leads to the house next door. And two, the suspect is no longer there—which doesn’t mean we don’t need to be cautious. Proper treatment of evidence is crucial, and there’s nothing that says the tunnel and/or areas in the house aren’t booby trapped.”

  “What, like a bomb or something?” Bond asked.

  Newt shrugged. “Anything’s possible.”

  “If I may, I’d like to suggest that I be allowed to go into the tunnel first,” Stormy said.

  Newt looked at Pipi and waited.

  “Thank you, Mr. Boyd,” Pipi said. “That’s very noble of you, but I will be leading us in. If Agent Drystad wants you to be second in behind me, I have no objection. Newt?”

  Newt nodded per the script—exactly as he and Pipi planned. If any of them were going to run into a booby trap, it should be the two people already dead.

  “Agent James will be responsible for documenting what we find as we go,” Newt said. James held up the camera he’d been given and nodded his understanding. “Bond, you’ll stay behind and guard the door to ensure no one enters the tunnel behind us.”

  “What?” Bond said. “Why does he get to go in, and I get left out here?” Bond asked, looking over at Stormy.

  “Is there a problem?” Pipi asked.

  “Yeah,” Bond said. “He’s not with the bureau. I don’t understand why he’s even here.”

  “Mr. Boyd is coming because he’s in charge of security here at the mansion,” Newt said.

  “That’s my point,” Bond said, turning to Stormy. “If he’s such hot shit, how did he manage to get forty people killed?”

  “That’s enough,” Newt said. “If you want to be reassigned, Agent Bond, that can be arranged.”

  “That’s okay. I’m good,” Bond said.

  After a few other minor details were covered, Newt instructed everyone to put on the rubber gloves they’d been given. Then he gave Stormy the go-ahead to pull the secret door open, and everyone turned on his or her flashlight. Pipi and Stormy carried them as well, despite seeing perfectly in the dark.

  Newt went in third behind Stormy, followed by Maggie and Agent James. To his chagrin, Bond remained behind.

  It took Pipi only a few steps into the darkness to realize she had just entered the kill room.

  “Dear God,” Stormy muttered behind her. “Why would he build it here? It’s literally butted up against the foundation of the mansion.”

  “I don’t think he did—build it, I mean. I’m guessing it was already here,” Newt said, shining his flashlight along the walls of the room.

  “Explain,” Pipi said.

  “The Mulvaney mansion was originally part of the old Stono Plantation, and the house next door was the slave quarters, right? It stands to reason that the plantations owners didn’t dig the tunnel. The slaves dug the tunnel.”

  “They probably used it to move back and forth, right under the plantation owner’ss noses,” Stormy added. “And if the basement was a root cellar, they were probably using it to steal food.”

  “So, the tunnel was here all along,” Maggie said. “The Leg Collector discovered it and made use of it.”

  “I’ve got a generator back here. Should I start it?” James said.

  “Yes, go ahead,” Pipi said.

  A few seconds later, the generator began to hum and the lights came on.

  Not a word was said for a full minute as each person took in the ghastly scene.

  Finally, Pipi broke the silence. “Everyone stay where you are as Agent James takes photographs.”

  James didn’t move.

  “Agent James? Photos?”

  James nodded, took a step forward, and vomited on the floor.

  The kill room wasn’t large, approximately twelve feet by twenty feet, with a ceiling no more than seven-feet high. Newt now understood how an NBA player felt in a room designed for people of average height.

  The floor was covered with gray stone pavers, like something you would buy from Home Depot. The entire set up was clearly a DIY job done by someone who didn’t know what they were doing.

  The stones at the far end of the room were no longer gray like the rest, but a deep rust color. The color of dried blood.

  It was not what Newt expected. He’d expected a clean, orderly crime scene—matching the profile of most organized serial killers.

  The room he was standing in was anything but.

  In the center of the room was a silver, medical-grade table. The cart had wheels that were caked with dirt. Lying on the floor near the base of the table were several two-inch-wide buckle straps, like something movers use to secure things to the inside walls of a truck.

  Or a Christmas tree to the roof of a car.

  Or a person to a table.

  A four-foot-tall metal tool kit with sliding drawers stood against the wall several feet away. It looked like something an auto mechanic would use.

  Newt waited as James took photos of the tool kit before opening the drawers.

  They were indeed filled with tools—none of which were designed to tune carburetors or change spark plugs.

  “Look at these,” Newt said to Maggie, pointing at several empty glass vials that would have held a liquid drug of some kind.

  “What’s back there?” Stormy asked, pointing at a black curtain near the rear of the room.

  Pipi motioned to James, and he snapped several photos. Then Pipi stepped forward and pulled the curtains open.

  Maggie turned and tried to understand what was in front of her. “What the—?”

  “It’s his shrine,” Newt said, walking over.

  The wall had photographs of Ferris wheels—the small kind from county fairs in the ‘50s and ‘60s. The kind with chairs you sat in while your legs dangled freely below.

  There was also a collection of old model Ferris wheels perched on shelves on the wall—probably antiques.

  Then there were newspaper articles, one with a picture of a giant Ferris wheel. It was the front page of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, yellow with age, from August 1904. The headline read:

  ST. LOUIS CHILD SNATCHER FOUND— TWO GIRLS SAVED, BUT KILLER ESCAPES

  Beneath the photo of the Ferris wheel was a photo of two young girls, one a bit older than the other. The caption read:

  Two lucky girls! Katherine Keane, age 12, of St. Louis (left), and Onyx Webb, age 6, of Louisiana, survivors.

  Newt didn’t know the Keane girl, but he recognized the other and shot Pipi a look. Pipi looked back at Newt but said nothing.

  Several blank spots were on the wall, suggesting something had been remove
d. Something with his real name on it, perhaps?

  Then there were photos of the women he’d taken. None were wide shots. They were all close-ups of their faces. Their eyes filled with fear.

  The before photos.

  Newt was familiar with every one of the women on the wall in front of him. But he recognized them from the after photos taken by the authorities. Once the Leg Collector was done with them.

  “That’s Juniper Cole,” Stormy said, pointing at one of the photos. “She was his first.”

  Under Juniper’s photo there was a small table with nothing on it. “What do you think was here?” Maggie said, pointing at the empty table.

  “I don’t know,” Newt said. “But whatever it was, he took it with him.”

  CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA

  DECEMBER 22, 2010 – 11:18 A.M.

  BRUCE AND KODA MULVANEY sat on opposite sides of the desk in Bruce’s study, the desktop between cleared of everything except the cassette player.

  “Get the door,” Bruce said.

  Koda stood and went to the door. “How long do you figure the recording is?”

  Bruce shrugged. “I have no idea. It says it’s a sixty-minute tape, but that doesn’t mean he used all the tape.”

  Koda closed the door and turned the lock. Then he returned to his chair.