Helen’s eyes touched Malachi’s for a minute. “And thank you.”
“My pleasure,” he told her. “You’re a survivor, Helen. And we believe in your strength. You’re going to help us catch him.”
“Maybe.” Helen glanced down at her bandaged hand. It looked as if tears were welling in her eyes again but she blinked them furiously away.
Abby said, “Please, Helen, tell us—how did he get you? Or how did they get you? Please, help us catch him.”
“I don’t think you can catch him,” she whispered.
“Tell us what happened,” Malachi urged.
Helen took a deep breath and began. “I met a man on the Black Swan one day. He told me he wanted to bring a tourist attraction to Savannah. He wanted to open a haunted house. A pirate-themed haunted house. He was nice—just pleasant, not lecherous—and when we spoke, he was easy to talk to. He asked me if I could make any suggestions about properties that might be available and would work for a haunted house. I told him I knew the best guide in the city—Roger, of course—and that I knew where he might find the perfect spot. I said he’d have to follow certain historical guidelines, especially since it’s owned by a private restoration society. But the society hasn’t had the funds to restore it. Anyway, I got one of Roger’s maps and I remembered what I’d learned about the old church. Roger and I had talked about it. I had his map, I walked around, using it, and I was going to get together with the man I met on the Black Swan. It was...before Gus’s funeral, after we were all talking one afternoon—at the Dragonslayer.”
“Everyone remembers that day,” Abby said.
“Well, I thought we were meeting in the parking lot at the tavern, but I didn’t see him. Instead, there was a note on my car, along with his business card. He said to meet him at the church.”
“Helen,” Malachi asked urgently, “what did this man look like?”
“I...I don’t know. He was just a businessman. Maybe about six feet tall? I guess he was getting started early on his whole pirate-theme thing. He had long hair and a beard and mustache. Dark. You could barely see his face.”
“Did you know him? Had you ever seen him before?”
Helen frowned. “There was something familiar about him...I feel I should have known him, but I didn’t. Or maybe he reminded me of someone I knew, but I couldn’t place who it was.”
“What was his name?” Malachi asked.
Helen frowned. “Chris...Chris Condent. Christopher on the card, I think. He told me to call him Chris.”
Malachi didn’t allow a flicker of change on his face but his mind was racing. Chris...Christopher Condent. Christopher Condent had been a pirate, active from about 1718 to 1720. After taking a great prize, he retired from the sea and lived in France until a ripe old age. He’d become very rich by taking his ill-gotten gains and investing them in a career as a merchant.
“So,” Malachi said, “you found the note on your car with the man’s business card, telling you to go to the church. What then?”
“I went there—and I was surprised. The church door was open. I figured the man had gotten hold of the owners or one of the owner’s representatives and been given a key,” Helen explained.
“And then?” Abby asked.
Helen let out a long breath. “I went in.” She stopped speaking and just stared ahead.
“Helen?” Malachi said quietly.
She didn’t move; she didn’t seem to hear.
Abby moved closer and squeezed her hand. “Helen, please, go on.”
Helen shook her head. Tears gathered in her eyes.
“What?” Abby said very softly. “What happened then?”
“I don’t know,” Helen said. “I walked in and suddenly I felt a searing pain in my head. Someone or something had hit me. I didn’t see anything, anything at all.”
She fell silent again, her expression anguished.
Malachi nodded at Abby, and she understood what he meant. Helen knew her, trusted her. She was the one who could probe where the rest of them couldn’t.
“You were hit—and you were unconscious. But...you came to?”
“I was tied up. My wrists were bound. And I was in a cabin. A ship’s cabin. At least, I think it was a ship’s cabin. It seemed like I could hear water...and whistles and ships’ horns. It was dark, really dark. There were portholes or windows but they were covered and I couldn’t move to try to see out.”
Abby sat on the bed next to Helen. “I know this is hard, but it’s important. What happened next?”
“He came in,” Helen said. “He came in...and he was horrible.”
“I’m so sorry, Helen,” Abby murmured.
“He...told me I was a captive. A pirate’s captive. So I’d better be good. Captives who caused problems didn’t live very long. He said he’d put out the call for my ransom, but if I gave him any trouble, if I tried to escape...he’d kill me.”
“Did you recognize this guy? Was it the businessman you met?” Abby asked.