Through the Night (11 page)

But for Valerie, the fog seemed to set the tone for what was to come. The old prison, sitting on top of a massive rocky island, was shrouded in a thick, dense mist, giving it an eerie, menacing vibe that cut through Valerie as much as the blustery wind did.

Her stomach roiled with trepidation, but they were nearly at the dock and there was no backing out now. Chase was counting on her to identify specific information pertaining to Al Capone and anything relating to the other cane pieces, and she really didn’t want to disappoint him, because she knew how important all this was to him.

The boat bumped gently against the wooden platform, signaling their arrival. Paul, the park ranger who was a friend of Chase’s and had agreed to give them the private tour before the island was open to the public, stepped off the deck to tie off the vessel. Chase followed suit, then offered his hand to help guide her down so she didn’t slip.

As soon as her fingertips touched his, she felt the excitement pouring off him, a heady sense of enthusiasm she didn’t share. For Chase, this was a cool, fun adventure, but for her, she found the prison incredibly creepy and wasn’t looking forward to going inside the penitentiary.

“I was talking to Paul on the ride over, and he suggested we start with Capone’s cell, and go from there,” Chase said as they followed the park ranger to a small tram so they didn’t have to make the steep, long trek up to the main jailhouse on foot.

“That’s fine,” Valerie said. She sat next to Chase on the cart and tucked her cold hands into her jacket pockets for warmth.

The fog remained as they headed up the hill and alongside the cliff that overlooked the ocean and craggy rocks below. There was no one else on the grounds that she could see, which only added to the intimidating presence of the prison, as well as to her own unease. While she kept quiet and tried to stay calm, Chase carried on a steady stream of conversation with Paul about the place, his tone and expression full of eager anticipation.

Paul parked the cart and led the way to the structure housing the jail cells. As soon as she stepped inside the cold, dank building behind Chase and Paul, her skin prickled and the hairs at the back of her neck stood on end as she was bombarded with a powerful sense of hostility, evil, and violence that threw her for a loop.

Head spinning, she sucked in a sharp breath, came to an immediate stop, and tried to keep a tight grip on her shaken equilibrium.

Chase, having heard her loud gasp, glanced back at her, his features instantly reflecting concern. “Are you okay?”

She searched his face for some sign that he’d been affected by the tension and all the bad mojo filling the prison, but he appeared completely unfazed. “You don’t feel that?”

He braced his hands on his hips and cocked his head, regarding her curiously—as did Paul. “Feel what, exactly?”

“From the moment I walked in here, I’ve been surrounded by an overwhelming malevolence.” She couldn’t stop the shudder that coursed through her and settled in her stomach like sludge. “I can still feel it, and it’s making my skin crawl.”

“My gift doesn’t work that way.” Chase glanced around the area, as if trying to see or feel what she did. “I’ve been to Alcatraz before and wasn’t able to tap into anything significant, which is why I brought you here.”

She heard a faint wailing sound from somewhere in the distance and winced, certain it belonged to a long-lost spirit. When she looked at Chase and Paul to gauge their reactions to the high-pitched noise, their neutral expressions told her that she was the only one who’d heard it.

“Lucky me,” she muttered beneath her breath.

Paul tipped back the ranger hat on his head, his gaze sympathetic. “There’s been many psychics that have come through the jail, especially during the nighttime haunted tours, and your reaction, from what I’ve seen, is quite normal for someone who has extrasensory perception.”

Oh, joy,
she thought with a frown. At least the man wasn’t a skeptic, because there was nothing worse than someone watching the psychic process while thinking you were a phony.

Chase came up to her and gently placed his hands on her shoulders, his gaze deep and dark with understanding. “Do you want to leave?”

She swallowed hard, debating. He was letting her make the decision and offering her a way out if she wanted it. She knew how crucially important this visit was to Chase. That he was willing to turn around and go before they’d even started exploring the prison, all because she was apprehensive, said a lot about his true character.

He might want everyone to think he was cocky and unemotionally driven, but this man had a warm, compassionate side that made her feel safe and secure with him, and that was something she hadn’t allowed herself to experience in a very long time. Putting that kind of faith in Chase was huge for her, but in order to get through this ordeal, she had to let down her guard a bit and trust him.

And she did.
Her heart skipped a beat in her chest at that knowledge. How he’d managed to find a way past her resolve to keep things impersonal in such a short period of time she wasn’t sure, but for now, for today, she wasn’t going to analyze what felt so right.

He gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. “Just say the word, Valerie, and we’re done right now.”

With her jacket on, she couldn’t feel his touch directly, and it was probably a good thing considering all the other emotions she was dealing with at the moment. The last thing she needed was her attraction to him being thrown into the mix and adding to her other confusing thoughts.

She shook her head and shored up her fortitude, determined to get through the next hour or so. For him. “No. We’re here. I’ll deal with it.” And she’d pay for it later, she knew. “Let’s get it over with.”

She expected to see relief on Chase’s handsome face, but his concern for her never wavered as they followed Paul into the main part of the prison.

“Alcatraz has housed some of the most notorious, hardened criminals in the world, and back in the day, it was a ruthless, cutthroat place to live, which probably accounts for what you’re feeling and sensing,” Paul said as he led the way up to the second tier of Cell Block B, which was restricted to normal tourists.

“Punishments were harsh and severe, and most inmates were abused, some even murdered by their own kind. A lot of the convicts were subjected to psychological and physical torture, and the brutal conditions of the place caused a lot of men to go insane or commit suicide. When prisoners were released after serving their time, more often than not they left the Rock with some kind of mental disorder.”

Valerie swallowed hard as they continued down a metal walkway in front of the upper jail cells. Paul’s commentary helped to explain the awful tension in the atmosphere, the despair and grief that were nearly suffocating her. The start of a headache throbbed in her temples, and she did her best to keep the pain at bay. “Did that include Al Capone?”

Paul nodded. “He spent a lot of time in solitary confinement on D Block for bad behavior, and from what I’ve read, the total isolation, darkness, and horrible conditions completely messed with his head. Toward the end of Capone’s sentence here at Alcatraz, he spent a lot of time in the infirmary because of complications due to syphilis. He suffered from neurological problems, insanity, and there are reports that he was constantly babbling about odd and inconsequential things that made no sense to anyone.”

The sound of loud clanging, like someone opening and closing the metal cell doors, along with a cacophony of muddled, angry voices, reverberated through Valerie, startling her and kicking her heartbeat up another notch.

Again, Paul and Chase didn’t seem to notice, but there was no mistaking the feeling of being surrounded by turmoil and chaos. And with only the three of them in the building, the sinister chatter and presence of corruption were more pronounced for her. There was nothing to dilute the strong negative energy hanging over the place, and Valerie could only imagine the horrors the penitentiary had seen in its day.

“Here we are,” Paul said, and unlocked the metal door to Capone’s old cell before sliding the heavy gate open.

The loud clanging sound matched the one Valerie had just heard in her mind, but this time it was
real.
While Paul and Chase waited outside the small, nine-by-five room that seemed more like a cage, she reluctantly stepped inside. The cubicle was still furnished with an old cot, and there was a toilet and sink, and small folding table and chair.

Inhaling a deep breath, she sat down in the middle of the thin mattress, folded her hands in her lap, and closed her eyes. In order to weed through all the disjointed paranormal activity inhabiting the prison, she put herself in a meditative state and focused on the spirit of the man they’d come to visit.

Normally, she had to touch a person to get a reading, but the emotions contained in these three walls were so concentrated and compelling that she didn’t need human contact. Sensations seeped into her pores—sorrow, grief, remorse—and in time, she connected to images of a man strumming a musical instrument, the chords of the song he was playing a mournful, stirring melody. Immersing himself in the tunes was something that gave him joy in an otherwise dismal, bleak place.

“He loved music and he played the banjo,” she murmured, glad to know that there had been some kind of pleasurable diversion during his time in prison. That he’d had some kind of escape, even if only for a little while, from all the anguish and pain.

“They did allow Capone to keep a banjo in his cell, and he played for the other inmates,” Paul said, confirming what she’d seen.

“And he wrote lyrics.” In her mind, she could see him penning words on a musical writing sheet and could feel his passion as he wrote each verse. Capone might have been a notorious, ruthless mob boss, but the man had a sensitive side. “It’s a beautiful, tender love song.”

“He titled the song ‘Madonna Mia,’ and he wrote it for his wife.” Again, Paul backed up her mental impressions.

“Anything about the cane?” Chase asked, obviously eager to learn something about his prized possession.

Eyes still closed, she pictured the ivory top piece Chase had shown her, and waited to see what happened. After a while the impression faded, and a draft of cold air swirled around her, leaving her with nothing substantial to offer Chase.

She glanced at him and shook her head, hating to disappoint him. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t pick up on anything related to the cane.”

They left the cell and Paul escorted them to another part of the prison—Cell Block D, where Capone had spent time in solitary confinement. One step into the dark, isolated room, and she nearly dropped to her knees as shrieking, piercing cries echoed in her head. She cringed as a knifelike pain stabbed at her temples. The terror and deprivation lingering in this chamber were so intense, so debilitating, they nearly sucked the life out of her and caused her to panic.

She quickly backed out of the room, her wide eyes reflecting her own horror as she stared at Chase. “There’s
way
too much going on in there for me to even try to pinpoint anything specific.”

“Can we try one more place?” Chase asked, though his kind tone told her that once again he was leaving the choice up to her. “Capone spent his last months in the infirmary because of his syphilis, and like Paul said, there have been reports that he was always rambling about his life and the things he did as a gangster.”

Dread swelled inside her, and she did her best to push it back. “I’ll try.”

He gave her a grateful smile. “That’s all I can ask.”

Minutes later they arrived at the prison hospital ward, and if Valerie thought the isolation cell had been filled with torment, this place was equally oppressive. The magnitude of suffering and misery was so intense, nausea rose up in her throat, and a burning, prickly sensation tightened her scalp. Screams of abject agony ripped through her brain, adding to all the sensory overload in her system, and she pressed her hands to her ears to block the awful sound, but it wouldn’t stop.

Her insides churned, her vision blurred with tears, and she took a frantic step back and slammed into Chase’s broad chest. Her legs buckled, and he caught her elbows before she lost her balance. “I can’t,” she rasped, shaking her head wildly. “I can’t do it. I have to get out of here.
Now,
” she pleaded.

Chase didn’t hesitate or ask questions. As quickly as possible, he had her out of the building, and as soon as they were outside, she gulped fresh air into her lungs, which did nothing to help the headache pounding in her skull or her queasy, upset belly. Knowing she was going to lose her breakfast, she found the nearest bush and emptied the contents of her stomach.

Chase was right by her side, his expression etched with guilt and worry as he secured an arm around her waist and helped her to the tram. She could hear him through the pounding in her head asking if she was going to be okay, his voice filled with panic, but she was so inundated with another wave of nausea and such excruciating pain that she couldn’t form a coherent word.

Her other symptoms persisted, increased in strength even, and by the time they made their way back to the dock, then inside the boat to get back to the mainland, Valerie thought she was going to die. She’d broken out in a cold sweat, and her entire body shook uncontrollably. Her skull felt as though it were being split wide open with an ax by the full-fledged, brutal migraine that had taken up residence in her head.

Chase led her down to the enclosed part of the boat, sat on a padded chair, and pulled her onto his lap. Weak and spent, she went willingly, sliding her arms around his neck and curling into the heat and strength of his body as if she belonged there.

Unable to swallow back a sob of pain, she buried her face against his throat, hating the tears that leaked from the corners of her eyes, as well as how helpless she felt. Relying on anyone for anything wasn’t something she did easily or willingly, but at the moment, she didn’t have a choice. She was just grateful that Chase was there to comfort her.