Her Winter of Darkness

by Melinda Woodhall

  It’s the perfect place for these scumbags to find new victims. Half the work of breaking them down has already been done.

  But the idea that Diablo would send one of his men to hunt down one runaway girl seemed less likely. Unless she had information that could bring him down.

  “Ruby, did you get a good look at Diablo? I mean, could you pick him out of a line-up, or maybe even lead the cops to his hideout?”

  “Oh no, I’m not talking to the cops again,” she said in alarm. “They wouldn’t believe anything I said. Just wanted to lock me up.”

  He couldn’t argue with her bitter words. Based on the conversation he’d overheard between Peyton and Ingram, Ruby was right; Ingram didn’t believe her, and he was determined to prove she’d made up her story.

  And I’m not so sure even Peyton is willing to fight for the girl.

  Frankie’s spirits sank at the thought that Peyton might side with Ingram. He’d been so sure she had changed. That she was one of the good ones now. That was why he’d let himself fall for her.

  Maybe I miscalculated. Maybe I let myself believe she was different now because I wanted it to be true. Maybe I’m still just a damn fool.

  But the image of Peyton’s wide amber eyes lingered in his mind. And if he couldn’t believe that people were capable of changing, then what did that say about his own chances?

  “You try calling Detective Bell,” he heard himself say. “She got you out of jail and into Hope House, so she must want to help.”

  “Or maybe she just wanted to get me somewhere Diablo’s men could get hold of me,” Ruby muttered.

  Frankie frowned.

  “What are you saying?”

  “The girls at the place I was being held…they said Diablo had connections in Willow Bay. That he even had cops working for him.”

  Scratching the stubble on his chin, Frankie considered the words. Could Peyton be that cunning? Would she have used him to get Ruby into a vulnerable place where Diablo’s men could find her?

  It just didn’t add up. If she was working with the traffickers, why would she have driven Ruby to Hope House instead of taking her straight back to the hideout? And why would she have stood up to Ingram when he wanted to disprove Ruby’s story?

  “Detective Bell is on your side,” Frankie finally said, dismissing any notion that Peyton was Diablo’s pawn. “She tried to help you once, and I’m sure she’d do it again if you gave her a chance.”

  Ruby didn’t look convinced.

  “If the cops don’t find Diablo and take him down, you’ll never feel safe,” Frankie tried again. “And other girls are gonna end up in the same situation. He’ll keep hurting people until someone stops him.”

  “And you think I can do that?” Ruby was incredulous. “I can’t even stop myself from screwing up my own life. You think I have a hope in hell of stopping this guy?”

  Throwing the blanket to the floor, Ruby jumped off the bed, but Frankie put out a big hand to stop her before she could make it to the door. The look on her face reminded him of all the times Franny had stormed out in a huff.

  “Don’t leave, Ruby,” he said, his voice low. “If you do, I have a bad feeling you’ll never come back.”

  She stopped and stared at him, confused by the sudden shift in his tone. He stepped aside, giving her room to pass through if she still wanted to go. Whatever she decided, it had to be her decision.

  “Okay.”

  The word was small. Frankie raised an eyebrow.

  “Okay what?”

  “Okay, you can call Detective Bell.”

  Pulling out his phone before she could change her mind, Frankie tapped on Peyton’s number. He hadn’t called her since the last time he’d seen her at Hope House. His heart beat faster as the phone rang.

  After several rings, he heard a click, and then another few rings. Finally, Peyton’s voicemail picked up.

  “You’ve reached the desk of Detective Peyton Bell. I’m unable to take your call, but if you leave your name and number, I’ll return your call as soon as possible. If this is an emergency, please hang up and dial 911.”

  “Peyton, this is Frankie Dawson. I need you to call me as soon as you get this message. Ruby Chase is in my office and wants to talk.”

  He disconnected the call and looked up at Ruby.

  “You rest here until she calls back. I’ll give you some privacy.”

  Closing the door behind him, Frankie shuffled back to his desk and sat down. He took out his phone, double-checked to make sure the ringer’s volume was on high, and set it on the desk in front of him where he could watch it.

  Minutes later the front door swung open and Barker swept inside, bringing a burst of cool air with him.

  “Guess what I found out?” Barker’s deep voice filled the quiet office. “I had lunch with an old friend who works at City Hall and-”

  He paused, sensing something was off.

  “Why are you sitting there like that? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” Frankie said, unsure how to explain Ruby’s presence on the cot in the back. “What did your friend tell you?”

  “Apparently an office cleaner walked in on Bixby and a woman in a compromising position after hours. I figured it was Mackenzie Jensen, but my buddy claims the woman was a city employee.”

  Raising his eyebrows, Frankie tried to look interested as Barker crossed to his desk. When the older detective continued on toward the backroom, Frankie jumped up, but he was too late.

  Barker was halfway into the room when he noticed Ruby huddled on the cot. She jumped up when she saw the big man, and Barker jerked back in surprise.

  Retreating into the outer office with a glare toward Frankie, Barker put a hand over his chest, then motioned to Ruby, who hovered in the doorway.

  “Okay, Frankie. Who is she, and what’s she doing here?”

  The front door swung open as Barker spoke. Two men stepped into the office. Frankie didn’t know the bigger man, but he recognized Marc Ingram’s thin, pinched face.

  Ingram’s eyes fell on Ruby with a satisfied gleam.

  “Ruby Chase, I need you to come with me.”

  Frankie bolted out of his chair and stepped between the two men and Ruby, who seemed frozen in shock at their sudden appearance.

  “Go with you where?” Frankie clenched his hands into fists. “She’s no criminal. She needs somebody to help her, not arrest her.”

  The tall man with Ingram stepped forward.

  “No one’s being arrested. We just need to talk to Miss Chase in relation to an ongoing investigation.”

  Clearing his throat, Barker joined Frankie in the middle of the room. His solid presence blocked the men from approaching Ruby.

  “Who’s we?” Barker asked. “You with the feds?”

  The man stared at Barker, then flashed an ID badge.

  “I’m Special Agent Clint Marlowe with the FBI. I’m working with the WBPD on a case that Miss Chase might be able to help us with.”

  “Does Chief Ainsley know you’re here?”

  Ingram snorted, his face turning pink with indignation.

  “I don’t need Nessa’s permission to do my job,” he muttered between clenched teeth. “But maybe you’ve been retired too long to remember how things work in a real investigation.”

  Ignoring Ingram, Barker kept his eyes on Marlowe.

  “Chief Ainsley informed me that Ruby Chase may have information vital to our case,” Marlowe conceded. “When we got the message that she was here, we decided it would be prudent to detain her for questioning while we had the chance.”

  “Got a message from who?” Frankie asked, confused.

  “From you, Mr. Dawson,” Marlowe said. “You called and left a message for Ingram’s partner that Miss Chase was here.”

  Frankie was dumbfounded. Had Peyton really passed on his message to Ingram? She knew what kind of a man Ingram was, and that helping Ruby was not on his agenda.

  How could Peyton have done that to R
uby, or to me?

  “Come with us, Miss Chase.” Agent Marlowe gestured to Ruby. “We just need to ask you a few questions.”

  Walking toward the door, Ruby turned angry eyes to Frankie.

  “You told me Detective Bell would help. Guess you were wrong.”

  Frankie watched until Ruby’s small figure had disappeared through the door. Barker came up and put a big hand on his shoulder, but Frankie shrugged it off.

  He didn’t want to be comforted. He didn’t deserve it. Not after he’d just failed another girl that needed help.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Sleep had been Skylar’s only refuge since the Professor had gone away, but even that had now become a place of recurring nightmares and endless terror. Her mind was trapped in the foggy state between memories and dreams and couldn’t break free.

  Sitting up in her little bed, Skylar tried to recall a time of happiness, or even hope. Had she ever had the chance to experience such emotions outside the pages of the books on her shelf?

  Now, even her beloved books no longer lifted her depression.

  Is this what death feels like? No sunlight, no air, no movement?

  Fear was the only thing that assured Skylar she was still alive. Constant, relentless fear coursed through her body, pulsing like blood through veins. Dread of the Professor’s return was eclipsed in her mind only by the terror that he never would.

  In the meantime, she was forced to suffer the agony of waiting to find out which it would be. Until then, her ordeal would continue.

  Unless I end it now. I could go to sleep and never wake up, never dream.

  The Professor’s cruel voice echoed in her memory, warning her not to touch any of the levers in the safe room.

  “If you end up shutting off the air filtration system, you’ll likely be dead before I even know what happened. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Slipping off the bed, Skylar shuffled into the adjoining room. She felt for the chain hanging from the ceiling and pulled.

  Artificial light illuminated the shelves of supplies and food next to a big water tank. She leaned against the tank, using the full weight of her body to shift it several inches to the side to reveal the heavy lever the Professor had warned her about.

  Skylar studied the lever and ran a small finger down its length, breathless at the thought that it offered her a way to end her suffering. It would all be over within minutes.

  Looking around the little room, she took a deep breath and again reached for the chain and pulled, plunging the room back into darkness. She closed her eyes and steadied her breath, accepting the tomb-like room as her final resting place.

  Her hand was steady as she positioned it on the lever, and her voice didn’t falter as she whispered the words she’d memorized from Astrid’s book of Shakespeare’s plays.

  Never from this palace of dim night depart again…here will I remain.

  Her favorite play in the big book had been Romeo and Juliet, and she felt a small kernel of satisfaction that she would end her life in an underground tomb like the star-crossed lovers.

  Giving a hard pull, Astrid felt the lever shift, then stick. She yanked with all her might, and felt the lever snap down into place, before hearing a metallic click above.

  A thin strip of light had appeared on the ceiling. Squinting up into the darkness, she saw a glint of metal. Using the shelves as a step ladder, Skylar climbed toward the light.

  When she reached the top, she saw the lever had released a hidden latch on a small trap door concealed in the ceiling. Heart pounding, Skylar pushed the door up, and stuck her head through.

  She gasped as she recognized the narrow tunnel; she’d seen it many times in her dreams. A trickle of daylight from the end of the tunnel called to her, and she pulled herself up and through the trap door before she had a chance to think about what she’d do next.

  Following the light, just as she’d done in her dream, Skylar found herself standing under an iron grate. Flecks of snow and debris littered the floor under the grate, and she saw that the small ladder she remembered was still affixed to the wall of the tunnel.

  Skylar hesitated, suddenly scared of what she would find, or what would find her, if she went through the opening above her. Her dream had quickly turned into a nightmare once she’d gone up and into the light.

  Will it be the same as in my dream? Only this time, will I be the one whose blood will be left in the snow?

  Putting her foot on the ladder, Skylar thought again of the beautiful, frightened face that had beckoned to her in the dream. She heard the woman calling to her again, urging her on.

  Climb, Skylar. Then run and hide.

  The grate lifted easily in her hand, and she stuck her head up and over the side of the opening, realizing she was still inside the compound, just past the side of the house.

  She crawled out into the waning daylight, the snowy ground stinging her bare hands as she pushed herself to her feet. Grateful to have her slippers on, she scurried toward the side of the house, aware that the Professor had cameras set up at almost every angle.

  If he sees me, no telling how quickly he could get back here with his gun.

  Scampering further along the yard, she leaned against the trunk of a gnarled maple tree, its branches bare of leaves but tipped with snow. She surveyed the yard spread out before her, gauging the distance to the big wall that encircled the property.

  The possibility she could get over the wall was small, and the terrain she would encounter if she did was harsh. Her eyes moved to the big barn, but the terrifying memory of blood-soaked snow made her quickly look away.

  I won’t go into the barn, and I can’t go over the fence.

  She knew the only possibility to survive would be to get into the house. Maybe once she was inside, she could call for help.

  But the doors would be deadbolted, and there were bars on all the windows. Even if she could make it past the cameras, Skylar doubted she’d ever be able to get inside.

  She shivered as a light flurry of snow began to fall. Huddling closer to the barren tree, she looked up to see the remnants of daylight fading in the western sky.

  It’ll be night soon, and the wolves will come out.

  Skylar wondered if wolves could jump over walls, or maybe even dig a way in under them, but the growing numbness in her now-soaking wet slippers turned her thoughts to finding shelter from the unforgiving winter weather.

  Maybe I should just go back down to the safe room. I could stay in there until I figure out a plan.

  But she couldn’t make her feet move toward the grate.

  If I go down that hole again, I might never come out.

  Looking toward the corner of the house, she saw the small white camera mounted on the wall. She’d often seen the camera feeds on the Professor’s computer when she’d bring him his lunch. There had been six little windows showing the doors, yard, and fence.

  She assumed that meant there would be six cameras mounted around the exterior of the house. If she could somehow get to the back porch without one of the cameras picking her up, she may be able to find a way inside without alerting the Professor she’d escaped the safe room.

  An owl hooted in the distance, and Skylar looked again to the west. Another thirty minutes and it would be dusk. Another hour, and it would be full dark. She had to make her move now if she didn’t want to be outside in the dark with the temperature dropping fast.

  Edging along the house, she thought of the tools she’d used for gardening before the winter weather closed in. If the Professor hadn’t moved them, her collection of spades, shears, and buckets should still be stored in the big crate by the back porch.

  Skylar ignored her aching feet as she moved toward the porch, keeping low and staying close to the wall. When she reached the corner of the house, she pulled off her sweater and tossed it up and over the camera mounted overhead.

  Moving quickly, she hooked an arm through a lightweight bucket and picked up a small spade.
She slipped through the railings on the porch and lifted the bucket up and over the camera positioned above the back door.

  Without stopping to think, Skylar smashed the sharp end of the spade against the glass windowpane in the back door, sending a shower of glass falling all around her feet. Ignoring the crunch of glass under her slippers, she leaned forward and stuck her head through the spot where the glass had been.

  The air in the kitchen was incredibly warm compared to the freezing snow outside as Skylar looked around, seeing everything in place just as she remembered it.

  Wedging her shoulders through the window after her head, she put her hands on the bottom of the frame and propelled herself through. A searing pain shot up her arm as a thick shard of glass sliced a long gash in one hand.

  Hitting the floor with a sickening thud, Skylar lay motionless, watching the blood dribble from her hand onto the kitchen floor.

  She’d made it inside and out of the cold, and she didn’t think she’d made an appearance on any of the cameras. But as the icy wind whipped in through the broken window, she realized there would be no going back.

  The shattered glass was proof that she’d broken the Professor’s rules. She’d committed the ultimate sin of trying to run away.

  If I’m still here when the Professor comes back, he’ll kill me for sure.

  Chapter Thirty

  Alight rain had begun to fall by the time Tenley Frost left City Hall. It had taken some time to persuade Mayor Hadley that they would have to wait another day to release an official statement in response to the Willow Bay Gazette article on Ling Lee.

  The mayor was insistent that the revelation of Ling’s assumed identity required her to be placed on administrative leave from her duties as principal of Willow Bay High. However, he didn’t have the direct authority to take such an action, and Brock Chandler, the school superintendent, hadn’t returned his call.

  Tenley hadn’t been surprised. The two men were no longer on speaking terms after falling out over Channel Ten’s recent report on city corruption. The report had included a recorded conversation between the mayor and the school superintendent that implicated them in a plot to exchange political favors for key endorsements.