You Will Suffer

by Alexandra Ivy

  “Hey, Nate. I’m not open today,” he said, glancing down at his dark slacks and white shirt that had been carefully pressed. His Sunday best. “But if you need a shave, I’m happy to do it.”

  Nate gave a quick shake of his head. “Thanks, but I was just wondering how long you’ve been here.”

  “Oh.” He considered for a second. “Twenty or thirty minutes, I suppose. I meant to come straight after church, but I stopped by Walter’s house.” The barber heaved a dramatic sigh. “Did you hear there was a fire?”

  “Yes. A damned shame.”

  Nate tried to sound sympathetic without encouraging the older man to become distracted with the latest gossip.

  A wasted effort.

  Leland leaned toward Nate. Almost as if he was afraid he might be overheard by some phantom customer.

  “No one will say anything, but I saw the ambulance parked right in front of the house, which means Walter must have been home when the fire happened, right?” he questioned. “You don’t have that unless there is a body found. Or bodies.” He shuddered. “Who’s to say? There’s a new death in Curry every day. Or at least that’s what it feels like.”

  The older man wasn’t wrong. There was a new death every day. The thought made Nate’s stomach clench.

  “Did you happen to notice Ms. Guthrie?”

  Leland studied him with a curious expression at the unexpected question.

  “You mean at the fire?”

  Nate tried to disguise his throbbing fear. “Or walking past your shop.”

  Leland once again paused, considering the question. “Hmm. There was quite a crowd at Walter’s,” he finally answered. “You know how people are. They have to stand around gawking at a tragedy.”

  There was no trace of irony in Leland’s voice, despite the fact that was exactly what he’d been doing.

  “Did you see her?” Nate prompted.

  “No. I don’t think so.” Leland paused before he gave a low grunt, as if he’d been hit by a sudden thought.

  “What?”

  “That father of hers was there,” Leland said.

  “Judge Guthrie?” Nate blinked in surprise. Why was Ellie’s dad still in town? And was it possible that Ellie was with him now?

  Nate gave a small shake of his head. If Ellie had decided to visit her father, she would have left a message for him. Or at least picked up the phone when he called.

  “I suppose that’s his fancy title now.” Leland shrugged. “When he lived in Curry he was just plain Mr. Guthrie.”

  Momentarily distracted, Nate studied the man’s lined face. The barber wasn’t precisely subtle.

  “You didn’t like him.” The words were a statement, not a question.

  Leland grimaced, probably remembering a time when Colin Guthrie had the sort of power and influence in town to make life miserable for someone who spoke badly about him. Then, the barber shrugged.

  “He always acted like he was too good for this small town. He got even worse when he married that snooty wife of his. No one was sad to see him move away.”

  “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him yet,” Nate said, trying not to think about the looming encounter. Ellie didn’t have to tell him that her father was going to be less than impressed with a small-time rancher who didn’t have an extra dime to his name.

  “Good luck with that,” Leland muttered, before he grimaced. “Sorry, Nate. Ellie is a lovely woman. We’re all very happy she’s moved back to Curry.”

  “She is,” he agreed, dismissing his vague dislike for a man he’d never met. “Did you speak with him this morning?”

  “Nope. He was standing off by himself. To be honest, he looked white as snow. Like he was really upset at Walter’s death.”

  “I heard they were friends, so I suppose it’s natural he would grieve his loss,” Nate said even as he inwardly wondered if it’d been sorrow or terror that’d turned the judge’s face white.

  He was betting on terror.

  Almost as if able to read his mind, Leland glanced toward the window at the sheriff vehicles parked across the street.

  “I think they were close for a while,” he said, turning his gaze back to Nate. “Walter Perry liked rubbing elbows with the bigwigs. I know he belonged to the Lodge back in the day, and a few of them liked to get together and play cards out at Neville Morse’s place, but from what I’ve seen, Walter and Guthrie had a big falling out.”

  Nate leashed his impatience. As desperate as he was to find Ellie, anything he could discover about the men involved with Hopewell Clinic was important.

  “Do you know what it was about?”

  “Nope, I’d gotten lunch at the diner and since it was a nice day, I decided to eat it on one of the benches near the courthouse.” His eyes grew distant, as if he was lost in his memories. “While I was sitting there the two men came around the side of the building. It looked like Guthrie was telling Walter something he didn’t like and I could see the sheriff reaching down to grab his gun. As if he was thinking about shooting Guthrie.” Leland shook his head. “I was afraid it might get out of hand, so I hurried toward them to try and break up the fight, but by the time I could reach them, Guthrie was strolling away, as cool as a cucumber. A week later the Guthrie family were packed up and moving to Oklahoma City.”

  Nate was instantly reminded of watching the men standing in Neville’s field just twenty-four hours ago. Colin Guthrie had been shaking his finger in Walter’s face, clearly chastising him for something.

  Was it the same thing that’d caused their argument years ago? And did it have something to do with the reason Colin Guthrie had moved his family away from Curry?

  He resisted the urge to press for more details. If Leland had overheard the conversation he would have told Nate. The barber had a pathological urge to share whatever he knew with the world.

  “So you haven’t seen Ellie all day?” he demanded for the last time.

  “Can’t say I have.” Leland studied him, at last catching the tension in Nate’s voice. “Is something wrong?”

  “I need to speak with her. It’s urgent.”

  “If you want me to help look for her, I can,” Leland readily offered, waving a hand toward the plastic shelves he’d placed on the ledge beneath the window when Nate had first walked in. “I’ll finish straightening out these trinkets later.”

  Nate cast an indifferent glance toward the gold and silver necklaces arranged on the top shelf. It wasn’t until he caught sight of the bracelets that were in a small pile on the bottom shelf that he froze in shock.

  He took a jerky step forward, reaching to grab the top bracelet. It was made of cheap gold, but it was almost an exact replica of the silver one that he’d found in Neville’s field. As well as the one he’d glimpsed wrapped around Paula’s arm.

  “Where did you get those?”

  Leland frowned, obviously confused by Nate’s sharp tone. “My wife makes them,” he said, eyeing Nate warily. “At least she attaches the different charms onto the chain that she buys by the yard. In a moment of weakness last year I agreed to let her sell them in the shop.” He shrugged. “After a few months I moved them to the back. You know how the men are in this town. They were making fun of me for trying to turn the shop into a frou-frou hairdressing place. They kept asking if I was going to start painting their nails and toes. Unfortunately, my wife doesn’t care what my customers think. She wants her wares in the window where people just passing by can see them. She’s convinced they’ll sell better.”

  Nate had a fuzzy memory of seeing the display case when he’d been in the shop, but he’d never paid attention to it. Not until now.

  He held up the bracelet. “How many of these have you sold?”

  “I don’t know.” The old man gave a vague wave of his hand. “A few.”

  “Please, Leland. It could be important.”

  Leland snapped to attention. He’d spent time in the army. It might have been forty years ago, but he recognized an order when he
heard one.

  “I write down the sales,” he told Nate. “My wife wants to know how much I owe her.”

  “Can I see your list?”

  “Should be in the back. Wait here and I’ll get it.” Leland turned to make his way to the rear of the shop. He disappeared through a curtain that blocked off the storage room and what Nate assumed must be an office. There was the sound of a drawer being pulled open and a rustle of paper. A few moments later, Leland was returning with a small notebook in his hand. “Here it is,” he called out, hurrying to stand next to Nate. He flicked through the pages, his lips moving as he silently counted the sales he’d written down. “Looks like I sold ten bracelets in the past year.” He lifted his head to meet Nate’s steady gaze. “Do you want to know about the necklaces?”

  Nate shook his head, the terror he’d tried to deny blazing through his body even as he’d tried to call Ellie over and over. In the back of his mind he’d tried to convince himself that she was getting coffee. Or a muffin. It was the only way to keep the panic at bay. But he’d known deep inside that she was in trouble.

  She’d gone to his truck, made the call to his mother, and then disappeared. Which meant the killer had snatched her off the street in broad daylight.

  “No. Just the silver charm bracelet.”

  Leland didn’t hesitate this time. He already understood that there was something terribly wrong.

  “Silver.” He flipped through the pages. “Most people bought the gold. There were only two silver ones that I sold.”

  “To who?”

  “Paula Raye.”

  Nate jerked. “Paula. You’re sure?”

  “Yeah. I remember,” Leland assured him. “She said she was buying one for herself and one for a friend. I gave her a discount.” The older man looked up and gave a small grunt as he hurriedly reached out to grasp Nate’s upper arm. “Are you okay? You look sick.”

  Nate felt sick.

  How could he have been so stupid? He’d seen the bracelet on Paula’s arm. He’d known that it matched the one in the field. But he’d let himself be distracted.

  His stupidity had left Ellie vulnerable. If anything happened to her . . . Nate slammed the door on his grim thoughts. Later he’d wallow in self-reproach. For now, he had to concentrate on what he’d discovered.

  Just because Paula had bought the bracelets didn’t necessarily mean she was involved, but it was the only tangible clue that he had.

  “Did she say who she gave the bracelet to?” he asked his companion.

  Leland shook his head. “Nope. Just said a friend.”

  Of course she hadn’t told him who it was for. That would have been too easy. He was going to have to track down Paula. Now.

  Turning away, Nate was on the point of charging out of the door when he abruptly remembered it was Sunday. The Lodge would be closed and he had no idea where the bartender lived.

  He glanced back at Leland. “Do you know where Paula’s house is?”

  The barber’s voracious love of gossip once again came in handy. “When she first came to town I think she was living out of her car. I noticed it parked behind the Lodge even after hours. But a few months ago, I heard that she rented out the old Hollister place.” He shrugged. “Kind of a surprise to all of us.”

  Nate sent him an impatient frown. “Why would it be a surprise?”

  “Well, for one thing, it’s even more isolated than most places are around here,” Leland explained. “It’s almost thirty miles away from town, and nothing but prairie grass for neighbors. Plus, it’s a huge, rambling place that hadn’t been lived in for years. It had to have been filled with cobwebs and rats when she moved in.”

  It sounded like a lot of places in the area. Remote. Isolated. But Leland was right. It was a long way from where she worked. Especially since she had to drive home late at night. And why would she need a huge home? Why not choose a small place on the edge of town?

  There were probably a dozen explanations, but for now Nate was concentrating on the fact that Paula had chosen a place that would be perfect for a psychotic killer. No neighbors to see her coming or going. And seemingly lots of space to hide Daniel and Mandy before she murdered them and dumped them into Neville’s field.

  “Where exactly is it?” he demanded.

  Leland waved his hand toward the back of the shop. “Take the road past the farmers’ co-op. It comes to a dead end north of town. You can’t miss it.”

  “Thanks.” Nate raced to the door, yanking it open with enough force to send the bell attached above it sailing through the air.

  “What’s going on?” Leland called from behind him. “Nate?”

  Chapter Thirty

  Ellie struggled through the darkness that clouded her brain. She didn’t have to open her eyes to know that she wasn’t in Nate’s bed. Not only was she missing the warmth of his arms wrapped tightly around her, but she was sitting upright in a chair.

  The last time she’d fallen asleep like that she’d just celebrated her twenty-first birthday with cherry fizzes and every time she tried to lie down the world would spin in a sickening motion.

  Her head had also throbbed like someone had used a jackhammer on it.

  She felt exactly the same as she lifted her heavy lids, only this time she was fairly certain that cherry fizzes weren’t the cause of the relentless agony.

  It took a few minutes for her eyes to focus. How long had she been asleep? An hour? A day? The fact that she didn’t know made her heart skitter against her ribs. As did the memory of what’d happened just before she’d blacked out.

  She’d been leaning down to glance into the Rolls-Royce. Then someone had hit her on the back of the head and she’d been knocked unconscious. So what had happened to her father? Or had he even been in the car? Had someone stolen it to lure her to that precise spot?

  Blinking until she could at last make out her surroundings, she cautiously glanced downward.

  She’d been right. She was sitting in a chair. Not a hard, wooden chair. Or an office chair. This was a cushioned recliner that might be found in someone’s family room. Her hands were cuffed together, but otherwise she wasn’t bound in any way.

  Warily she raised her gaze to scan the room. It was dimly lit with open rafters above her and one bare bulb that hung from its own electrical cord. Beneath her feet was a cracked cement floor that looked like it hadn’t been scrubbed in the past fifty years. The air was thick with mold. And something else . . .

  Fear? Did that have a smell?

  Her mouth went dry at the strange thought and she glanced toward the blankets that had been draped from the rafters in the center of the long room. Like when kids performed a play in their grandparents’ basement. Creepy.

  What was hidden behind there?

  The washer and dryer? Storage containers? Dead bodies?

  She had a horrible suspicion she didn’t want to know.

  Trying to lift her heavy head so she could look behind her, Ellie groaned. The cherry fizz hangover had nothing on the agony that was currently drilling through her brain.

  “Awake already?” a voice drawled. “You must have a thick head.”

  Ellie forgot how to breathe. She’d been scared when she’d awakened in this weird-ass basement. Even with her brain pounding she’d realized she’d been kidnapped by whoever was responsible for the killing spree in Curry. But the terror that burst through her at realizing she wasn’t alone defied description.

  Her mind went blank, her heart lodged in her throat. Which would explain why she couldn’t breathe. The knowledge that she had to think clearly if she was going to survive was the only thing that kept the panic from overwhelming her.

  “So I’ve been told,” she finally managed to croak. “What’s going on?”

  “A little show-and-tell,” the voice answered.

  There was a squeak of springs, as if someone was lifting out of a chair, or maybe climbing out of bed, followed by the shuffle of footsteps. Icy dread spread through her veins
as Ellie forced herself to turn her head and discover who was responsible for the murders.

  The shadowed figure stepped close enough to be bathed in the harsh glare coming from the bulb and Ellie’s mouth fell open. She’d expected it to be one of the men involved with the Hopewell Clinic. Or one of their friends. Who else would have a reason to kidnap her?

  But it wasn’t one of the men. It wasn’t even a man.

  It was Paula Raye. The bartender at the Lodge.

  “Paula?” she breathed.

  The woman moved to stand directly in front of her. She was wearing an old flannel shirt and jeans that had suspicious splotches on them. Mud or blood? Ellie shuddered.

  “Surprised?” the woman demanded.

  “I’m confused,” Ellie admitted with complete honesty. “Did you knock me out?”

  The woman hesitated before giving a small shrug. “It was necessary to get you here.”

  She was hiding something, but what? Right now, it was the least of her worries.

  “Where are we?”

  “My temporary home.” Paula glanced around, her face twisting with distaste. It emphasized just how unattractive a woman she was. “It’s not much, but it’s better than my last lodgings.”

  “Your last lodgings?” Ellie parroted. It was such an odd choice of words.

  “Oklahoma State Penitentiary.”

  “You were a prisoner?” Ellie asked before she could stop the stupid question. You didn’t have lodgings at the Oklahoma State Penitentiary unless you were a prisoner.

  “Yep. For almost twenty-five years.”

  Well, that explained the bad tattoos. And the haircut. She swallowed a hysterical urge to laugh.

  There was nothing funny about the crazy ex-con.

  “What did you do?”

  Ugly hatred darkened her eyes. “The charge was trafficking drugs, but it was bogus. I was jailed to keep my lips shut.”

  “Keep your lips shut about what?”

  “The Hopewell Clinic, of course.”

  Ellie’s initial shock faded to stark acceptance. And then self-disgust. She’d known the trouble in Curry had something to do with the clinic, and she’d let that suspicion allow her to commit the cardinal sin when exploring evidence.