He stalked into the parlor and headed for Colette, who lay sleeping on a sofa, her wounded arm propped on a pillow, the arrow still wedged in her arm and sticking straight up. Soft moans occasionally escaped her graying lips.
Arcadias squatted down and gently shook her. She briefly roused and looked at him dully, then went back to sleep. Arcadias moved his mouth up to her ear and whispered, “Colette, listen to me. I’m going to release you and the old man. You have to convince the lawmen outside that Jon Rafter is to blame for all this. Tell them Rafter has lost his mind and turned violent. Tell them he shot you with a longbow when you tried to protect his wife. Tell them he also shot the cop.
“This is your only chance to walk away from this. You have to sound convincing, Colette. We’re all counting on you. Ned will dispute everything you say. You have to convince the sheriff otherwise. Tell him that Ned is senile. He has dementia. He imagines things. Tell the sheriff that.” Arcadias gently grabbed her arm. “Okay, up you go.”
Colette gingerly sat up and grabbed her injured arm with her other hand. Arcadias helped her stand up. He looked over at Iris. “Untie Ned’s feet. He and Colette are going outside.”
“What about me? Can I go?”
Arcadias shook his head. A curl from his wavy brown mop slapped against his forehead. He forced a smile onto his face. “I still need you, Iris. You’re invaluable help I can’t do without.”
Arcadias escorted Colette over to the front door and stopped. He waited for Iris to bring Ned over. His heart thumped crazily in his chest. The tension in the house was palpable, but paled in comparison to the pressure wrapping his mind tighter and tighter with each passing minute. He didn’t know what would happen when the door opened. But he couldn’t go back on his promise to Nixon. He wanted to keep the SWAT team outside and standing around, guns dangling at their sides.
Ned Hoxley shuffled over. Iris shadowed him from behind. Ned stopped and looked at him, his gaze as intense as an owl scanning a forest floor for prey. “Quit looking for it, Arcadias. You’re never going to find it,” Hoxley said. “It’s not supposed to be found. And it’s better that way.”
“Enjoy your freedom, Ned. I hope to never see you again.”
“I hold the same sentiment. But I plan to attend your trial, and if I live long enough, your execution. That day will be a bright and sunny day for Louisiana.”
Arcadias stepped aside, out of the line of fire. He watched Ned wrap an arm around Colette and open the door. And then he watched the mismatched pair walk out the door and onto the gallery. Arcadias quickly shut the door and locked it.
He sidestepped the King Saul mural and returned to the parlor. And just as he stepped into the room his two-way radio went off. He heard Damien mutter something excitedly, but couldn’t make it out. Arcadias hit the talk button. “Is everything okay, Damien? Where are you?”
“I’m fine, brother. I’m in the attic, and I think I’ve found the treasure. Come quick.”
“I’ll be right there, Damien.”
Arcadias looked at Iris. “You’re doing great, Iris. Continue guarding the prisoners. I’ll be in the attic. Call me on the radio if something happens.” Without speaking another word, he fled the parlor, taking the stairs two at a time.
Chapter 48
“Hostages coming out!” a deputy peering through binoculars shouted. “One man and one woman, both hostages appear feeble.”
Newton Laskey stood shoulder to shoulder with his two agents near the end of the driveway and watched the hostages leave the house. The woman hostage for sure needed medical attention, and perhaps the old man would require first aid as well. An ambulance waited at the end of the driveway to take the infirmed to the nearest hospital.
Laskey turned his head and observed two EMTs pull a gurney out the back of the ambulance. They each slung a medic bag over a shoulder and pushed the gurney up closer to the throng of observing lawmen. The deputies parted and allowed the EMTs through.
“Hold up, gentlemen,” Lester Tubbs said to the EMTs. “We would like a quick word with the hostages before you take them away or treat them.”
The EMTs nodded their heads anxiously, but didn’t protest.
The release of the two hostages was a step in the right direction, but Laskey knew the standoff would only last for as long as the SWAT leader could maintain his patience. Even now Kyle Brock talked to his team, instructing them and giving them orders. Laskey guessed Brock wanted under-the-door cameras inserted into the house now.
Two SWAT team members rushed up to the hostages and assisted them, escorting them safely back to the EMTs. Lester Tubbs confronted Ned Hoxley and Colette Williams. “You folks obviously need medical attention, but can one of you give us a quick explanation of what’s going on in the house?”
Colette nodded her head weakly. “We were here for a romantic getaway—Damien and me, and Arcadias and his girlfriend, Iris. But then Jon Rafter and his wife started fighting. The fighting got way out of hand. I tried to intervene. Rafter then disappears and returns with a bow and arrow and shoots me with it. And then a cop shows up and Rafter shoots him with a side arm.”
Ned Hoxley snorted. “That is not what happened at all, Sheriff. She’s one of them. They’re treasure hunters. And as unbelievable as this may sound, they’re looking for Jean Lafitte treasure. They think it’s in the house somewhere. Arcadias Charbonneau is the ring leader. He’s the hostage taker. Jon and Annie Rafter are tied up in the parlor as we speak.”
“Please, Sheriff, don’t listen to Ned. He means well but he has dementia. Jon Rafter is who you need to focus on. He’s a dangerous man. Look at this arrow in my arm. That’s all the proof you need,” Colette said, her voice as weak as a day old kitten.
“Hogwash! I may have numerous health issues, but dementia isn’t one of them. Colette is lying to save her skin. I’ve known Jon Rafter for a long time. He’s a saint walking around on this earth. Even now he’s reasoning with Arcadias, trying to calm him down so he doesn’t harm anyone. Arcadias is the one who gunned down the cop. He’s who you need to focus on,” Ned countered.
“A deputy will complete a report at the hospital. You both can give your full account of the crime at the emergency room,” Tubbs said firmly.
“I’m okay, Sheriff. You can talk to me at my house down the road. I’m a little late taking my insulin. But that’s no big deal. I’ve been late before. I just adjust the dosage. Besides, my wife will be worried sick,” Ned said.
Tubbs turned to one of the EMTs. “Can you examine Ned here?”
“We need to take Colette to the hospital. She needs surgery at once. But if you want to examine Ned here, I suggest you have another ambulance meet you here or at his house.”
Tubbs nodded. And then the EMTs went to work immediately on Colette, placing her on the gurney. They performed a few vital signs checks and then loaded her into the ambulance. The doors to the emergency vehicle slammed shut. Seconds later, Laskey watched the ambulance speed off down the road, sirens blaring.
It was then Laskey noticed a news vehicle pulling up. The two U.S. Marshals on the scene intercepted the reporters before they could even get out of their vehicle. Laskey was glad the marshals were here. They were here only because Jon and Annie were in WITSEC—the Witness Security Program, or more commonly known as the Federal Witness Protection Program. And like a mother bear protecting her cubs, the marshals charged over to ensure their witnesses’ anonymity didn’t get exposed to the world.