“You’re taking pictures of a poor girl that died horribly?”
The kid shrugged, unable to dignify what he was doing.
“Asshole.”
Stiltson chucked the phone as hard as he could and smiled when it struck a brick column and shattered.
The kid went ballistic. “I’ll have your ass for this! My dad knows people. We’ll get you!”
“Cuff him,” Stiltson told Giles unemotionally.
That shut the kid up. He looked at Giles in fear. Giles leaned over closer to Stiltson and whispered in his ear. “You know I can’t arrest him.”
Stiltson shrugged. “Just cuff him, make him sit somewhere until he’s calmed down.”
“All right.” He reached into his pocket and removed a pair of handcuffs. When the kid caught site of them, his eyes bulged, and he fled. Giles chuckled to himself as if he knew that had been Stiltson’s plan all along, to get the kid out of here.
Facing the crowd, Stiltson shouted, “You all have less than a minute to evacuate this area. If I find any photos on the Internet, I will track you down and arrest you for interfering with an ongoing investigation. Now move!”
The crowd was gone in less than half the allotted time.
“Giles, find out what the hell is going on with the tarp. I want it up and concealing the scene in five minutes.”
“You got it. What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to go visit an old friend.”
Giles nodded. He knew it was best to just stay out of Stiltson’s way when he got like this.
On his way into the building, Stiltson removed his phone to check his messages. If he didn’t do it now, he wouldn’t get the chance for a long time.
Chapter Thirty-One
Sam kept a firm grip on the door handle. Brandon had been driving like a lunatic since leaving the hotel, and she still wasn’t used to his lead foot. “I should’ve buckled up.”
“I have a bad feeling we might already be too late,” he said, squinting, looking for a house. “This is the driveway?”
“Yes,” she said. “I told you it was long.”
“Yeah, you weren’t kidding.”
“Told you.”
He drove even faster. The trees zipped past the windows in a blur of green and brown. Sam could smell the sweet smell of pine and the burning wood of a fireplace seeping in from outside. It smelled good.
It brought back the memories of Christmas. She longed for another chance at that night. She would do things so differently. For one, she would be much more straightforward about wanting to get back with David. Maybe if she had been that way from the start, he wouldn’t have cared so much for the angel board.
She doubted it though. It was meant to happen all along. Like Brandon had said, the angel must have planned it all. If so, what did she plan for Sam? Or Brandon? Or David, for that matter?
As the car sped around a curve, the house appeared ahead. In the gloomy daylight of winter, the house looked dreary. It was a log house built like a large cabin. It sat waiting–as if lurking–bathed in a bleak shadow.
Sam had been here many times, but had never felt like this. She wanted to stay as far away from that house as she possibly could. Something wasn’t right. She could feel it. It had been eating at her since Brandon mentioned coming out here. Seeing the place now made that dread much stronger.
He parked at the front door. He got out of the car and waited for Sam to do the same. A few seconds later, she emerged from his rented Pathfinder, joining him. She noticed he was carrying his bag.
Together, they walked to the front door.
Carol returned to the living room with three coffee mugs on a tray. She placed it on the table in front of them. Sam sat on the chair by the fireplace once again. The flickering heat felt good. Her joints were stiff, but they were starting to loosen.
Carol was smiling. Typical. No matter what had transpired, she would never stop smiling for long. Even having buried her daughter earlier that day, she didn’t seem to be upset. But under the shell of a happy woman, she was really crumbling. Sam knew it, and wondered about Carol’s sanity. Across the room, Brandon sat where David had opened his gift. His foot was tapping on the floor in a rapid beat. Brandon’s patience had obviously worn thin.
“Why are you serving us coffee?” he asked.
“Because we could all use a cup,” said Carol.
Sam leaned forward and grabbed a mug. Raising it to her mouth, she could smell the blended flavors, feel the steam heating under her nose. She wanted to take a sip, but was afraid it would anger Brandon in some way. So she set the mug back on the tray.
Carol shot her an offended glance.
“Didn’t you understand anything I told you, Ms. Barker? Your son is in danger and needs my help right away.”
“I heard you fine, Mr. Cartwright, I just think you’re butting your nose in where it’s not needed.” She walked to the couch and took a seat.
“Butting my nose in? Are you insane?”
Wow. He said exactly what I was thinking. He has balls of steel. No one has ever spoken to Carol like that.
Carol looked at Brandon in shock. “Excuse me?”
“Your daughter called me for help. Right after she did, she was murdered. Does that not ring bells of concern for you?”
Carol shook her head briskly, as if it would somehow shake away the horrible truth. “No, that’s not possible. I understand what you’re trying to convince me of, and it’s not possible. Angels don’t do that.”
“Contrary to your beliefs, ma’am, they do. Or I would not be here.”
Her lip quivered. She stood up, walked to the fireplace, where the stockings still hung. She hadn’t put away the Christmas decorations yet. Grabbing Amber’s stocking, she raised it to her cheek and rubbed it across her face like a cat showing affection. “Oh, Amber…”
She began to sob.
Sam and Brandon shared the same worried expression. Neither one of them knew where to go from here. Shrugging, Brandon was the first to speak. “Ms. Barker?”
She didn’t acknowledge he had spoken to her, just continued rubbing the stocking across her face.
“Where did you get that board?”
She stopped, slowly lowered the stocking, and stared at Brandon through soaking eyes. “The board?”
“The angel board. Where did you get it? Most of those are for show and never work, but the one you got obviously did.”
“Of course it worked. Why do you think I gave it to him? I had used it several times when David’s father, Phil, passed away. She helped me through it all.”
“She?” asked Sam.
“She was there for me like no one else could be. Listening to my crying, talking me out of suicide. I would not have been able to raise two children alone if it weren’t for her.”
“Ms. Barker?” asked Brandon. “What did you do?”
She dropped the stocking on the floor. Staring at nothing particular, she said, “The Barker males have a curse on them. It was something Phil spoke about a lot. As he neared thirty he became frightened and paranoid that he was going to die.”
“Why?” asked Sam.
“Because, dear, none of the males in the Barker family have made it to thirty-one. None of them. And to prove Phil’s theory correct, he was taken from me by a sudden aneurysm. Three months before he turned thirty-one.”
“What does this have to do with the angel board, Ms. Barker?”
“I began to use it the day after his funeral. I told her that Phil had convinced me the myth was true. I asked her to protect David, to watch over him, be there when I couldn’t.”
“My God,” Brandon muttered.
“I sent her to him as a child. She stayed with him, always, never leaving his side. She even told me about what he was doing as a teenager with a much older woman.”
“Penny?” asked Sam.
“How do you know about her?”
“David told me about what happened. That really messed him up, the way you ended their relationship like that.”
“It was immoral, and he was underage.”
“I understand, but it was the way you did it. He said you scared him that day.”
“I scared him? I was terrified, myself. The angel had threatened to kill Penny if I didn’t get her out of David’s life. What else was I supposed to do?”
“It was you,” Brandon said. “I thought it was David, but it was you all this time.”
“What?” Carol looked at him dumbly. Her eyeliner had smeared into black globs around her eyes.
“I thought that David was the one who opened the doorway that allowed her entrance, but it was you. Years ago. She had planned all of this. And waited to make her move.”
“I don’t…understand.” Carol looked like a child who had lost her parents at a store.
“She loves David,” he said. “More than anything in the world, and will harm anyone that could ruin that for her. She’s a ticking time bomb of rage that could blow any minute.”
Carol shook all over. Her legs trembled. Using the mantel for support, she managed to stay on her feet. “You mean, she used me?”
“Yes. She has visions, they all do. It’s something they are blessed with. I call it a curse. Just like Sam and even Amber, they’re given fragments of a future that could be. In Amber’s case, it was a warning. In the angel’s case, she saw what David would grow up to be.”
“And what is that, Mr. Cartwright?”
“A man that she could love. One that could love her back just the same.” He shook his head. “I don’t know David, but I’m going to take a guess and say he’s probably a lover and not a fighter.”
“Right,” said Carol.
Sam could remember many times she’d seem him get violent. Especially if it was over one of Amber’s boyfriends.
“His heart is full of love, and when he opens it up to people, they probably break it more often than not.”
Carol looked over at Sam. Sam lowered her head, feeling Carol’s gaze cutting through her like daggers.
Brandon went on. “She saw him as a man wanting to love. She was something that wanted to be loved, truly loved. She saw how great it could be, and also, by watching David’s life, saw how tragic it can be. With a desire and lust for the flesh, she used you to get it and was biding her time until the day came along that she could make a move.”
“When he tried to kill himself?”
Brandon’s eyed widened. “What?”
Carol couldn’t speak fast enough, so Sam blurted in. “David attempted suicide in October. He nearly died.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
She sighed. That was twice she’d been asked that in just a few days. “I don’t know.”
“Oh my God.”
“What does that mean, Mr. Cartwright?”
“He was able to see her, wasn’t he? Did he speak of her?”
“Yes,” Carol said. “Frequently.”
“Of course he did. She showed herself to him. She used his weakened state as her chance to cross over. My God, this is a lot farther along than I thought.” He stood, walked to Carol, blocking Sam’s view of her.
“What’s going to happen?” Carol asked, her chubby cheeks bouncing.
“We may be too late already,” he confessed, “if it’s been that long since the connection was made.”
Sam stood as well. “But you said David had to allow it to happen. He didn’t start speaking to her until Christmas.”
“Yeah, but with her planning this, making the connection, and crossing over, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”
Sam watched Brandon as he ran ideas around in his head. His eyes narrowed, lips tightened. Then, out of nowhere, his eyes widened again. “Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“May I use your phone, Ms. Barker?”
“Of course.” She stepped around Brandon, pointing. “It’s right over there…”
She stopped talking when she heard the sound. A whirling sound. At a quick glance, she saw the meat cleaver coming toward her, spinning end over end, making PHAWP! PHAWP! PHAWP! noises.
Sam saw a glimpse of shimmering metal going straight for Brandon and Carol. Brandon’s back was turned to it. As Carol stepped around the side of Brandon to point him to the phone, the metal smacked against her head, tilting it back with a wet crunch.
Brandon whipped around and caught Carol as she was about to fall. With both arms, he tried to hold her upright, but her body was limp. The cleaver was imbedded in her forehead, splitting her head straight through the middle.
Sam shrieked as Carol and Brandon fell to the floor. Brandon was buried under Carol’s hefty weight.
Sam charged for them, but was met by an invisible blunt object. It smashed her against the head. Her vision darkened. The pain was incredible. She felt a grip on the back of her neck and another one between her legs. She was hoisted into the air and released. She pounded against the ceiling, her body thundering with agony. She knew the impact on the floor would be much worse, and tried to brace herself for it.
The crash on the hardwood floor was actually much worse than she’d anticipated. Her hips throbbed. She couldn’t stand. She dragged herself across the floor, as if on a battlefield under fire.
Behind her, she heard a buzzing sound. Flashes of light reflected off the surrounding walls, followed by the thumping of footsteps. Rolling onto her back, she was stunned to see a woman wearing a white gown, smudged with black and brown spots. Dried blood? Her skin was white, so white Sam had trouble adjusting her eyes to it. Her jet-black hair hung over her face in clumps and tangles. Wings sprouted from her back, darkening, cancerous appendages dripping thick yellow glop. Only patches of feathers remained spread about. With her arms held out to her sides, hands opened like bear claws, she stalked toward Sam.
Sam froze. She could only watch her looming, closer and closer.
“He’s mine,” the woman growled, her voice so powerful the walls shook. Barker family pictures fell off the walls and shattered on the floor.
“Stay away!” shouted Sam. “He doesn’t need you. You’re killing him!”
“He has always been mine,” she replied, her voice sharper than before.
Sam could feel her lungs palpitating when the angel spoke, taking her breath away.
“You could never love him the way I do!” the angel screamed. The windows exploded into shards of glass.
Standing over Sam with a foot on each side of her hips, the angel leaned over and clutched Sam’s shirt. She lifted Sam into the air and brought her face closer to hers. The fabric of Sam’s shirt was tearing.
Quieter, the angel said, “No one will come between us, not even you.”
Sam looked down and saw her feet weren’t touching the floor. She appeared to be three feet off the floor. At least.
During their struggle, Brandon had managed to get to his feet and find his bag. He was kneeling over it. Unzipping the bag, he removed the wrapped bundle from inside and stood.
The angel was still holding Sam off the floor by her shirt. Sam was kicking and slapping, but to no avail. The angel had to intentions of letting her go.
Brandon dropped the burlap and cloth off his hidden weapon—a gold cross that he held with both hands.
He ran at them, shouting something Sam couldn’t understand. The angel glanced at him over her shoulder and gasped. She dropped Sam and vanished. It was as if she hadn’t been there at all.
Sam hit the floor. Looking up with her stiffened neck, she saw Brandon’s hand offering to help her up. She took it, and gently he raised her. She fell against him, so he switched the cross to his other hand and supported her.
“What happened?” she asked. “Where’d she go?”
“Back to David, for now.”
“What is that thing?” She gestured to the cross.
“I’ll explain later.”
“She didn’t like it.”
“No, she didn’t, but I doubt it would have stopped her for long.” He guided her to the chair and helped her to sit. “I need to use that phone.”
Sam’s cell phone chimed from inside her purse. It was on an end table across the room, but to Sam it felt as if it were atop the highest peaked mountain. “Would you be a dear and get that for me?”
Nodding, Brandon hurried to her bag and found her phone. He read the name across the screen. “Says John Stiltson.”
“Answer it! And hand it to me.”
Brandon did. Sam was talking before the phone was up to her ear. “Where the hell are you? I asked you to meet us here.” She put it on speaker so Brandon could hear too.
Stiltson’s voice was emotionless on the other end. “I have David here.”
“Is he in custody?”
“No, I think he’s in a coma, and I don’t know what to do about it. I entered his apartment and found him in a comatose state.”
Sam paused. “There’s a lot of crazy shit going on. His mother’s been killed.”
“What?”
“We were attacked by…I’ll have to fill you in on the details later.”
“Where are you?”
“At Carol Baker’s home.”
“I’ll have an ambulance there in ten minutes. I’m on my way.”
“Wait a second…” She saw that Brandon had snuck over to the phone and was quietly speaking to someone on the other end. Brandon was speaking quickly, but hushed. Finally, he nodded, said one last thing, then hung up. He returned to Sam. “What’s going on?”
“We need David and we need to get moving.”
Sam nodded. “John?”
“Yeah.” His tone had changed to one of frustration.
“Send the ambulance but I need you to bring David somewhere,” Sam said.
“I can’t do that,” Stiltson replied.
“You have to. If you want to save his life, you have to.”
Angel Board Page 21