“What are you doing here?” Will slurred.
The Watcher’s hand strayed to the knife in his pocket. He opened the blade. “Same as you, Will. Just cleaning up some loose ends.”
The knife-hand slid from his pocket and into Will’s abdomen with a sick, wet sound. Will’s mouth opened. Blood trickled out as he pitched forward.
The Watcher wrenched the knife free and caught the limp body. Warm blood soaked the sleeves and front of his hooded sweatshirt. Just like another night, long ago. There was no surprise and no panic this time. He ducked and dragged the body across his shoulders. Will was bigger and heavier than Harry had been. Liquid trickled down the Watcher’s back.
He hiked down the game trail and deposited Will behind a shrub. He’d deal with the body later. After Rachel was eliminated.
“Does your property flood?” Running a towel over his wet hair, Mike strode naked into the bedroom. Rachel was bending over and picking up her panties. She put them on. Pity.
“No.” She shook her head. “Those old Quaker farmers knew their stuff. The house and barn are on high ground. Flooding shouldn’t be an issue, but the roof is questionable. I really do have to get home.”
Mike dressed and slid his gun into his holster. A loose rain jacket concealed the weapon. He tossed a duffel bag on the bed and stuffed a couple of changes of clothes in it, then headed to the bathroom for his shaving kit.
She pulled her tank over her head. She eyed his bag. “So, you’re staying for a while?”
“You bet.” He added socks and underwear. “You’re going to make me sleep on the couch, aren’t you?”
“Sorry.”
“It’s OK. You’re right,” he grumbled.
“Could you get my clothes out of the dryer?”
Mike stepped up to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “If I don’t give you clothes, you’ll have to stay.”
She laughed, her breath warm against his skin. “Don’t worry. You’ll get another chance to get me naked.”
“It’s not just that.” He tucked her head to his chest and breathed in the lemon scent of her hair. “Since we’ve been here, no one’s tried to kill you.”
Fifteen minutes later, they pulled into Rachel’s driveway. Mike’s phone buzzed. Pete’s cell number appeared in the screen.
“Pete?”
“We have an emergency,” Pete shouted.
Sirens in the background made the lieutenant’s voice hard to hear. Mike covered his other ear.
“The supports under the bridge on West Drive washed out. I’m en route, so is the rescue squad. Could really use you.”
“Are you sure you want me there?”
“Yes. I have two cars in the creek and people trapped inside. Thank God the creek’s not that deep, even at flood level, or they’d all be dead already.”
Mike’s gut twisted with indecision for a few long seconds. But there was only one thing he could do. The rescue squad was mostly volunteers. There wouldn’t be enough strong backs to haul people out of flood currents. West Drive was only a mile from Rachel’s farm. He could be there before the squad. “I’ll be right there.”
Mike hung up and dialed Sean. “Can you come and stay with Rachel?”
After securing Sean’s promise, Mike explained the situation while hurrying Rachel into the kitchen. “I’m sorry. Stay inside with the alarm on. Sean’s on his way.”
She scooped up the yapping dog. “Be careful.”
“I don’t like leaving you.” Every muscle in his body was tense, protesting his exit.
“People need you.” Rachel kissed him as he opened the door. “Go.”
He heard the locks click behind him as he jogged to the truck. The rain had stopped, at least for now, but the damage was already done.
“What happened? Where’s Mike?”
Rachel turned as Sarah walked into the kitchen. A full laundry basket was tucked under her good arm.
“The bridge on West Drive is out. People are trapped in cars in the creek.”
“Oh no.”
Rachel followed her sister into the laundry room. Sarah dumped the load into the washer, added detergent, and closed the lid. She pressed start. The machine chugged to life with a loud thunk. Water rushed into the tub.
They wandered back into the kitchen. Rachel paced to the cabinet and checked the Pop-Tart supply. She pulled out the last box.
“Worried?” Sarah asked.
Rachel took out a foil sleeve. She paused, the unopened pouch in one hand, the box in the other. Nerves swirled in her belly. Mike was a hero by nature. He’d risk his life to save strangers without hesitation. She checked her phone on the counter. The display was blank. “Yeah.”
Sarah smiled. “Finally.”
“Finally what?” Rachel put the box away. She walked into the den, switched on the TV, and tuned to a local station. Nothing.
Sarah followed her. “You’re finally in love.”
Rachel’s butt dropped to the sofa. Yeah, she loved him. But in love? It would explain a lot of things. The way she blubbered all over him without shame. The way her heart went all high school every time she saw him. The strange sense of comfort in his touch. “Do you really think I’m in love with him?”
“Why is that such a surprise to you?” Sarah sat next to her.
Rachel offered her sister a Pop-Tart, her hunger dimmed by turbulent thoughts. “Well, you know, Mom.”
Sarah pointed at her with a strawberry pastry. “Are you really worried about that? You are not Mom.”
Rachel chewed. The Pop-Tart tasted like fruit-filled cardboard.
“If anything, you are the polar opposite of her. Mom didn’t take responsibility for anything. I loved her, but she was very selfish. She never put us or Dad before her own desires. You put everyone first.”
“I always felt bad for leaving you in that house.”
“You shouldn’t. You had the chance at a career. Why wouldn’t you take it? What would turning down the opportunity have done for either of us? Marrying Troy wasn’t a good choice, but it was my mistake, not yours. I tried to take the easy way out.” Instead of eating it, Sarah stared at her Pop-Tart. “You know, she wouldn’t have been able to do what she did if Dad didn’t let her.”
“I know. She lived to hurt him, and he lived to take care of her.” Rachel picked up the remote and checked the other local channels. Nothing. “So, what do we do now?”
“Not repeat their mistakes, I guess. Though I can’t see you acting like her or putting up with that kind of behavior. I did a lot of excusing stuff with Troy. But no more.” Sarah got up and turned toward the kitchen. “Oh my God.” She pointed to the window.
Rachel jumped up. Her gaze followed Sarah’s finger. A plume of flames and smoke rose from the barn.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Panic seized Rachel’s next breath in her chest. “Call the fire department!”
Sarah jolted into action and grabbed the phone.
Rachel pulled her work boots on her bare feet and tucked in the legs of her jeans. “Stay inside with the girls, no matter what happens. Reset the alarm.”
“This could be a trap!” Sarah yelled at her back.
The possibility that the fire had been intentionally set had already occurred to Rachel. The fire at the town hall was still fresh in her mind.
“I know, but I can’t let those horses burn to death.” She grabbed her jacket, pulled the door open, and ran. Panicked whinnies carried over the cracking of wood burning. Slipping and sliding down the back lawn, she sprinted to the barn. Her foot skidded on the slick grass, but she scrambled back to her feet. On the way past the water trough, she dunked her jacket before tugging it on.
An animal’s high-pitched scream lifted the hair on her nape. Visions of trapped animals burning alive played in her mind. Her stomach clenched. She had to save them!
The flames were contained to one front corner of the wooden structure. Recent rains had left the exterior boards wet, hopefully giving her
a few precious minutes. She pulled her wet hood over her head and plunged into the aisle. Smoke swirled, hot and acrid, around her face. Her eyes watered. She threw open the door and unlatched the first stall. Wild-eyed and snorting, the big bay plunged through the opening. She chased the horse out of the barn, then moved on to the next.
Smoke thickened as she pulled a chestnut pony out. Rachel blinked through the black smoke and worked methodically through the barn. Her eyes burned and soot clogged her throat as she opened the last stall. Rojas’s gray snorted and reared in panic, its eyes rolling wildly back in its head, exposing the whites. As his feet hit the dirt, Rachel moved forward and secured the lead to his halter. She pulled, but he resisted. Rachel slid out of her jacket and tossed it over the animal’s head. She dragged him out of the perceived safety of his stall into the increasing heat of the aisle. The blindfolded and terrified horse trembled. His sides bellowed. Rachel wiped a forearm across her eyes. The front exit was engulfed in flames. She’d been afraid to open the back door. More air could fan the flames higher, creating a chimney effect as wind blew through the building. The fire gave her no choice now. The back door was the only way out. She pulled on the handle, ignoring the searing burn of the hot metal on her hand.
As she’d feared, the fire grabbed the fresh air. It licked up into the rafters and caught the hay in the loft. Rachel tripped and went down hard in the dirt. Choking on thick smoke, she struggled to regain her footing as the black cloud thickened around them. The gray, smelling the fresh air just beyond the doorway, staggered forward. Rachel gripped the rope tightly in her fists and let the horse drag her out.
She lay on the grass, gulping cold, wet air into her lungs for a minute before pushing herself to her hands and knees. Coughing and gagging, she looked up at the horse. Black streaks marred the gray’s pale coat. His sides heaved, and there were several burns on his back and haunches that would need treatment.
Neither of them would come out of this unscarred, but they were both alive.
Something crashed to her left. The barn was totally engulfed. Flames shot into the black sky. Wood creaked. A piece of the roof caved in with a loud crash and a shower of sparks. Rachel crawled backward, numb with shock, eyes riveted on the burning building as her dreams turned to ash in front of her.
An enormous explosion of sparks sprayed into the air. Tongues of flame licked at the remaining structure, wrapped around rafters and joists, and pulled them to the ground. Embers flew through the air as the walls collapsed, consumed by the raging fire.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
Something squished in the grass behind her. She swiveled her head. A shape loomed over her. The fire reflected over a tall, hooded, and blood-covered form. The shocking image transposed over her nightmares. Doubt paralyzed her for a few seconds. Was it real or was she hallucinating?
Her brush with indecision cost her. He lunged. A blade gleamed in the firelight. One steely arm wrapped around her middle. He pulled her to her feet and pressed the knife to the tender skin of her throat. Something warm trickled down her neck. Before she could react, he lifted her off the ground. She shot a hand over her shoulder to strike his face, but smoke inhalation had left her winded and weak. Her body seized in a fit of coughing. He tossed her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Blood rushed to her head as it bounced against his back. He hurried into the woods. Five long minutes later, she heard the rush of water.
“Put me down.” She hacked. Her lungs burned as she struggled to inhale sufficient air. She twisted to see where he was taking her. His flashlight beam gleamed on water. The river. A boat was tied to a tree. Her captor whirled, his light sweeping over the riverbank. Half concealed under thick underbrush was a body. She barely recognized the dead-white face of Will Martin. Blood soaked his shirt.
Her head struck wood, and her vision dimmed as her captor dropped her in the bottom of the boat.
She weighed nothing over his shoulder as he settled her into the boat.
He should have killed her. She was the only thing that could tie him to the murder. He was going to do it cleanly. No gutting her. Just a quick slice across the throat.
But when he’d pressed the knife to her soft neck, he hadn’t been able to do it. He shined his light on her unconscious face. Her resemblance to Barbara was startling.
Keeping her was like having Barbara back again. Only this time would be different. The Watcher glanced at Rachel. So much like Barbara. This time there would be no husband, no Harry, just the two of them.
Arranging her limp body between the seats, he quickly tied her hands and feet. Sirens drew closer. He jumped back onto the shore and rolled Will’s body deeper into the underbrush. With all the chaos at the fire, there was little chance anyone would track them all the way to the river. Who would notice an extra set of boot prints after dozens of cops and firemen traipsed over the scene? He’d come back and dispose of the body later. He pushed the boat off the bank into the swirling water and started the engine. From under the rear seat, he produced a handheld spotlight. He switched it on, shining it on the water ahead as he headed across the river. The small vessel bucked on the waves. Neither the dark nor the rough current alarmed him. He’d been navigating these waters his entire life. Still, attention must be paid. If he capsized, he’d lose her.
In his mind, Rachel’s face blurred into Barbara’s. After all these years, he was finally taking her home.
Mike surveyed the scene. Two cars were submerged in the flooded creek. Normally just a few feet deep, the water surged waist high. Four people, wrapped in blankets, huddled behind an ambulance. The fact that everybody was all right was a miracle. Creek water rushed past. Its depths churned dark with sediment. On the surface, foam swirled and eddied. Despite the height of the creek, this bridge hadn’t been on Mike’s short list of trouble spots.
“Mike!” Pete stood on the bank, shining a flashlight on the water. “I need to talk to you.”
“Chief!”
Mike turned.
Behind him, Ethan called from the open door of his patrol car. “Fire department just got a call out to the Parker place. Barn’s on fire!”
Mike ran for his vehicle.
“It’s important,” Pete shouted, but Mike kept going. Pete chased him down. Mike paused, one foot in the SUV.
“This could be a setup,” Pete gasped. “Explosives went missing from Lost Lake. Vince and Harmon covered it up. I can’t see shit, but there was enough dynamite to blow these bridge supports.”
The sinking sensation in Mike’s stomach went into a free fall. He glanced back at the creek. Inspection of the bridge supports would have to wait until the water receded.
“Thanks.” Even with the drop in temperature and soaking wet clothes, Mike’s body poured sweat all the way back to Rachel’s. Pressure built in his chest, growing tighter as he neared. He saw the glow as he turned down Prescott Road, orange and warm against the storm clouds. Higher up, smoke billowed in a black plume upon the charcoal-gray sky. As he drew closer, the flames became visible, tongues licking around the remaining wood of the structure, eating the barn right down to its skeleton.
Heart slamming, he unlocked his glove box and grabbed his gun and holster before leaping from the SUV. Sean’s vehicle was already there. A fire truck pulled into the driveway. Sarah stumbled across the lawn toward him.
Mike caught her by the shoulders. “Where’s Rachel?”
Tears streamed down Sarah’s face. “I don’t know. I can’t find her.”
Mike faced the barn. A crack split the air. A large rafter fell, taking most of the roof with it. It collapsed with a boom and a roar. Flames and sparks shot into the air like fireworks.
She couldn’t be in there. Nothing was alive in there.
Sean was jogging around the back of the burning building, but Mike couldn’t tear his eyes off the inferno. Everything around him blurred as the possibility that she was dead sank in, and his insides twisted until his lungs wouldn’t expand. His vision blacken
ed at the edges.
“Mike, listen.” Sean grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him until Mike looked at him and blinked. “She’s not in there.”
Mike focused on Sean’s face.
“She’s not in there.” Circling wide to avoid the heat and flying embers, Sean led the way around the side of the barn. “I counted all the horses. Eleven. Sarah said that’s all of them. So why would she have gone back in?”
A bit of burning debris landed on Mike’s arm with a sizzle. He swatted it out. The sharp burn brought him back to reality. He looked over the meadow. Big shapes moved in the dark. Was Sean right?
“Bandit, no,” Sarah’s voice shrilled over the crackling of the flames.
A small brown missile was heading straight for the fire. Mike rushed forward, but the little dog veered off, circumventing the inferno and heading for the woods behind the property.
Mike looked at Sean. “Right. Follow him.”
Sean pulled a flashlight from his pocket and trained it on the ground in front of them. Bandit stopped at the edge of the woods. He ran back and forth on the bank of the creek. Normally, just a few inches of water tumbled over the rock bed. Tonight, the creek was knee-deep and double its typical width. The dog yapped and zoomed off into the trees. Mike and Sean followed at a run. Just beyond a strip of tall grass, a game trail led through the forest, running parallel to the creek.
“Look.” Sean illuminated a clear set of footprints in the mud. “Big man wearing boots. And he was carrying something heavy.”
The tension in Mike’s chest compounded. He pulled his gun from its holster and jogged next to Sean toward Bandit’s barks. They slowed when the river sounded ahead of them. Sean held up a hand and ducked behind a tree at the edge of the woods.
Ahead, the river churned and eddied, black and ominous in the dark. The riverbank was empty, except for the furious dog, running back and forth, growling at the water’s edge. Mike picked up Bandit. “Hush.”
She Can Tell Page 25