by Cynthia Eden
The killer?
“Those are FBI agents. Dean pulled strings to get us a tour of this area.”
Her breath came a little easier. She started down the slope. When the sand shifted beneath her feet, Gabe caught her arm, steadying her. Only once she was steady, he didn’t let go.
“I should have backed away,” he said, his voice low, carrying only to her ears and not the group below. “It’s too late now.”
“The pleasure we shared isn’t anything to regret,” she told him, clinging to her pride because it was one of the few things she had. “It’s something to be repeated.”
He wore sunglasses, too, dark glasses that hid his expression from her, but she easily saw the hardening of his jaw.
“Eve . . .”
She pulled away from him and headed below.
Victoria hurried to meet her, offering her hand. “Isn’t this place amazing?” she said, giving Eve’s hand a quick, hard shake. “I mean, talk about your body preservation. With the sand here, the Lady Killer could just put his victims down and then—”
“Victoria.” Gabe’s voice snapped like a whip.
Victoria slapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry!” Her hand dropped and chagrin flashed over her face. “I’m so used to working with the dead! I forgot that you were one of his victims. I mean, I knew you were a victim but—”
Dean cleared his throat. “Viki gets caught up in the scientific aspect of her work. Sometimes she forgets the bodies that she sees are actually real people.”
Red stained Viki’s cheeks. “No.” Her voice had gone soft, stilted, “I never forget that.”
Eve reached out, her hands brushing lightly over Victoria’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I forget things all the time.” She offered the woman a smile, trying to lighten the hard tension that had settled over everyone. “It’s kind of my thing.”
Victoria’s mouth dropped open in shock, then she laughed, a light, quick peal of sound. She covered her mouth almost instantly, as if horrified that she’d just laughed at Eve’s memory loss.
Eve kept smiling at her. “It’s okay,” she said. “Really.”
Victoria gave a quick nod, then turned on her heel and motioned toward the FBI agents. “Avery and Douglas have the perimeter secured up ahead, and the search is still going on for—for more victims.”
Eve fell into step beside her. The scent of the ocean washed over her, and that scent brought with it the whisper of fear.
She glanced out at the water. It was a bit hazy out there, as if fog were planning to roll in that night and . . . something is out there.
She stopped walking and stared out at the waves. Her eyes narrowed as she strained to take in that shadowy shape. Was it an oil rig? A gas rig? She’d seen a few of those as they drove around the island. Maybe it was just a fishing boat or—
“It’s a lighthouse,” one of the FBI agents said. Eve glanced at him. A tall blond guy with a faint cleft in his chin. “The Sand Island lighthouse.”
Eve couldn’t take her gaze off the place. “Does . . . does it still work?”
“No, that place hasn’t been used in decades.” He offered his hand to her. “My name is Avery Granger, and this is my partner . . .” He nodded toward the African-American man a few feet away, “Douglas Stonebridge.” Douglas had warm brown eyes and a strong handshake.
Was she supposed to say it was nice to meet them? Because those words were literally on her lips, like some sort of long forgotten manners protocol, but she bit them back. It wasn’t really nice to meet people at a body dump site. Saying it was would be anything but proper etiquette. “Thanks for giving us access,” she said instead.
“Consider it an information exchange program,” Avery said as he cocked his head to study her. “You get to see what we’ve found, and if your memories come back . . .” His gaze slid toward Dean. “. . . then you get to lead us to the Lady Killer.”
“If you really are a survivor,” Douglas added, voice more than hinting that he didn’t fully believe she was.
Fair enough.
Victoria hadn’t stopped walking. Eve hurried to keep up with her. She crested another small slope and then—
Graves.
The holes had been dug into the cleared sand. Only they weren’t really holes. They were long, very clear rectangular shapes. Four of them.
“The first two bodies were uncovered by the storm,” Victoria said as she headed toward the graves. Stakes had been put into the ground, and rope circled the stakes, marking off the area. “A guy and his dog found them . . . and once the FBI started digging . . .”
“We uncovered the remains of four more victims,” Douglas finished.
Eve inched forward, staring down into the holes. The insides of those graves . . . totally empty. “How did you push the sand back?” she asked softly. “Because it just keeps falling in, the more you push, the more you fight . . . it just pours in on top of you . . .”
“We had an excavation team—” Avery began.
Eve squeezed her eyes shut. The sand keeps falling in. “Were they buried alive?”
“Eve.” Warm, strong hands wrapped around her arms. His hands. “Eve, look at me.”
Her eyes flew open. Gabe was right in front of her.
“Do you remember this place?”
She remembered something. “The sand . . . I can feel it all over me. I—I think . . .” Her eyes went back to the graves. “I think he buried me.” Her hand rose, touching the scar on her neck. “He . . . I . . .” Her head was splintering. “Were the victims tied beneath the sand? Their . . . their hands . . .”
Avery advanced on her. “Why do you ask that?”
Because she could feel a rope cutting into her wrists. And her hands . . . “When I woke up in the hospital, I had rope burns.”
“We found rope with them,” Douglas said as he, too, advanced toward her.
But she wasn’t ready to face them. She crept closer to the stakes, to those graves. Was I in one of his graves, too?
The answer was there, pushing forward in her mind. Yes.
She blinked away tears that wanted to fill her eyes. “How long were they tortured?”
“Days.”
Her heart jerked. “You didn’t . . . you didn’t answer me before . . . Were they alive when he buried them?” That part hadn’t been in the paper. Neither had the information about the victims being bound beneath the sand.
I remembered that.
She could feel the crushing weight of sand all around her . . .
“Based on what our examiner found . . .” It was Douglas who answered. “Yes, we think he buried them alive beneath the sand.”
Horror choked off her breath.
CHAPTER NINE
THE SUN WAS SETTING. AT THE WEST END OF THE island the band had already started to play, and bikini-clad women and men in swim trunks were dancing in front of a makeshift stage.
A string of lights had been draped over the stage and crisscrossed the small dance floor—a floor made of sand. The setting sun turned the sky a deep red behind that stage, and, soon enough, that sky would turn black and the stars would appear. A million stars, glittering overhead.
“Hey there!”
Her voice.
His prey.
Keeping his cap on and his sunglasses in place, he turned toward her.
“I was hoping to see you,” Alexa said, giving him a bright smile.
And he’d been planning to see her. Especially since she’d checked out so perfectly. Information these days was so readily available. People freely put their whole lives up on the Internet, always wanting attention.
Alexa Chambers was twenty-six, the only daughter of a wealthy Texas attorney. Two months ago poor Alexa had broken up with her fiancé.
As she’d posted online, it was, “Time for me to get back in the game!”
He did love to play games . . .
Alexa’s smile flickered with uncertainty. “Did you . . . I mean . . . are you here with someo
ne?”
“I am now.” He caught her hand. Brought it to his lips. Kissed her knuckles.
She laughed softly, nervously, and the setting sun glinted off her bracelet. Had that been a gift from Daddy? Or the ex?
“I knew someone with a bracelet like that once,” he said.
Her laughter faded. “Let me guess. A—A former girlfriend?”
Alexa was so delightfully uncertain. Probably the work of her ex. With her good looks and family background, she should have been confident, in control.
But I’m the one with the control.
Soon, all Alexa would have . . . would be fear.
“Not anymore,” he said, smiling at her. “You still up for that boat ride?”
Alexa started to nod, but then she bit her lip. “Should I trust you?”
No, you should run screaming from me.
Staring into her eyes, he pulled out his wallet. Offered her the ID there. “Does that make you feel better?” The badge glinted.
Her smile flashed again.
“I’m off duty,” he told her, keeping his voice low and easy. “So how about we take that ride? The water is gorgeous when the sun is setting.”
And Alexa . . . eager Alexa . . . nodded.
THEY’D STAYED OUT on that beach, next to those graves, for hours. The FBI agents had grilled Eve, again and again. But she hadn’t been able to tell them any more.
Just about the rope . . .
The sand . . . crushing down on her . . .
She hadn’t been able to remember anything about her attacker.
“It will come to you.”
Her head turned. They were back in the golf course parking lot. Gabe was a few feet away, talking with Dean and the FBI agents. Victoria waited next to Eve, sympathy on her face. “It will,” Victoria said, her voice stronger with certainty. “You just need more time.”
Eve wished she had her certainty. Plenty of time had already passed since she’d woken in that hospital.
“Unless you . . . you don’t really want to remember.” Now Victoria looked back down at the beach. The sun had fallen low into the sky, and shadows were starting to stretch out onto the water. “I read the coroner’s reports on those women. Maybe you’re better off—”
“I’m not,” Eve said.
Victoria nodded. “I understand.”
Did she? Eve wasn’t so sure about that.
Gabe strode toward her. The FBI agents were heading back down the beach, back toward those graves.
Four graves. The remains found there had been linked to four women—Kate Ryan, Cassie Blankenship, Sharon Douzanis, and Lyla Strong.
“I need a drink,” Eve muttered.
Gabe stopped.
“Um, say again?” Victoria asked, her hands fluttering lightly by her sides.
“Don’t act like you don’t need one, too.” Eve rolled back her shoulders, trying futilely to push away the tension that had lodged there. “We’ve been staring at graves all afternoon and for most of the evening. We need to unwind.” Talk about an understatement. “Let’s get a drink.” She marched for the SUV. “I want music. I want dancing. And I want to think of something other than death.”
She jumped into the vehicle. Slammed the door behind her.
A few seconds later the driver-side door opened. Gabe climbed inside. “Are you okay?”
No. “Buy me a drink, Gabe,” she said, her hand rising to brush across the scar on her neck. “I don’t want to be the woman who can’t remember. I don’t even want to be the woman who crawled out of a sandy grave. For a little while I just want to drink and listen so some music, okay? I need it to wash away everything else.”
Dean opened the back right door. “The island is only fourteen miles long. If you’re looking for a good time, I figure we just need to roll down the windows and follow the music.”
Eve grabbed Gabe’s hand. “I need this.” How was a drink and some dancing too much to ask?
Gabe cranked the engine. The windows rolled down.
“You coming after us in your car?” Dean called to Victoria. She was still standing in the same spot.
She gave a quick nervous nod.
“Then let’s follow the music,” Gabe said as he backed up the SUV. “Let’s do anything that you want . . .”
He should be careful what he said. The guy had no idea what she really wanted right then.
Music and dancing—they weren’t the release she craved. They weren’t going to banish the cloying fear that was suffocating her.
Being in his arms? In his bed? That’s what I need. The wild pleasure that he could give to her. But right at that moment she’d take any oblivion she could get.
Drinks. Music. Dancing.
The SUV pulled away from that old country club. They headed back down the narrow road that snaked between the massive sand dunes. She caught a few glimpses of the old golf course as they headed out. A patch of green here, an abandoned cart there. The area just seemed to stretch before her.
Are more bodies hidden beneath the sand?
She was afraid that there were. Three victims had been marked as missing by the FBI. Three women who matched the profile of the Lady Killer’s victim. Jessica Montgomery was one of those women. The other two were Chantal Grant and Helen Humphrey.
Chantal had disappeared from Dauphin Island two years ago. At first the authorities had thought she was a drowning victim. The others had been listed as drowning victims, too—until their bodies were discovered.
When the remains of Kate, Cassie, Sharon, and Lyla were discovered, the FBI got to work creating victim profiles. From their profiles, they’d realized that Jessica, Chantal, and Helen could all be victims of the Lady Killer.
Eve didn’t think there was any “could be” about the situation. Her gaze slid over the sand. You’re out there, aren’t you?
She knew the Lady Killer had given Chantal and Helen their own sandy graves.
“YOUR BOAT IS incredible!” Alexa said as she jumped on board. She was smiling as she glanced around. “Now this is truly the way to travel in style.”
He grinned as he followed her, knowing exactly what role he had to play. “I take it you like traveling in style?”
She was already heading below deck. Talk about making things easy.
“Who doesn’t?” Her voice floated back to him. “This is incredible down here!”
Yes, the boat was rather impressive. “I have a confession,” he murmured as he entered the main cabin.
She was already helping herself to the champagne he’d stocked there.
“A confession?” She held up the champagne bottle. “Let me guess. You’re planning to seduce me.” Her voice had dipped to a seductive purr.
He shook his head. “It’s not my boat.”
“It—It’s not?” Her smile slipped and she started to lower the champagne bottle.
“I borrowed it.” The lies were so easy. “My boat was wrecked in the last storm. This belongs to a friend of mine.”
“Oh.” Her smile was back. Even bigger than before. “Some friend you’ve got.”
“Yes . . .” He reached down. His fingers curled around the neck of the champagne bottle, and his knuckles brushed against her hand. “And as far as seducing you goes . . .”
Her mouth was just inches from his. She stood onto her tiptoes, stretching eagerly before him.
“Yes . . . ?” Alexa breathed against his lips.
“I’m not going to seduce you.”
She blinked. “What?”
He pressed a kiss to her lips and said, “I’m going to kill you.”
It took her a few lost, desperate moments to understand his words, and by the time Alexa tried to pull back from him, it was too late. He’d snatched the champagne bottle from her grasp and slammed it to the side of her head.
She didn’t even have a chance to scream.
The champagne bottle thunked into her head. Blood spattered and down she went, tumbling right back on the bed.
&nbs
p; He stood there a moment, watching her. Her chest was still rising. She was obviously alive. Good. Because if she’d been dead, what would have been the point?
He put the champagne bottle on the floor. Got some rope—he’d planned ahead, he always did—and he tied her up. Then he wrapped her up in the bedclothes and tossed Alexa’s ass in the closet.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be back. I just need to check up on my island.” He stripped off his clothes. Pulled a fresh set from his bag, the same bag that had contained the rope. It wouldn’t do to walk around the island with blood on his clothes. You never knew when a bit of spatter would wreck you.
He’d killed to cover up a bit of spatter before. A spring breaker who’d been a bit too observant had needed a fast trip to hell. The kill had been brutal and quick, the same way he’d taken out Pauley McIntyre. Killing that way never gave him any pleasure.
I like to work with my girls.
When he was done changing, he double-checked the lock on the closet. He tapped lightly on the door. “Sweetheart, don’t worry, I won’t be gone long.”
No sound came from the closet.
“When I get back,” he told Alexa, “the real fun will begin.”
He’d take her far away, so far that no one else would hear her when she screamed and screamed and screamed.
This time you won’t get away.
He was whistling when he headed back to the main deck.
EVE DOWNED HER rum and Coke in a flash. Her hand tapped on the counter and her body swayed lightly with the pounding music.
Gabe made sure that he stayed close to her even as his gaze swept the gathering crowd at the beach. It was summer, peak season on the island, and even the discovery of a serial killer’s dumping grounds hadn’t slowed down the activity there.
“Yeah, baby, sure thing,” he heard the guy on the other side of Eve saying to a pretty brunette. “I can get you on the golf course. I can show you where all those graves are . . .”
The brunette put her hand on his chest. “Really, Johnny, you can do that?”
“Hell, yeah, and it’s freaky. They were all lined up, side by side. Fucking dead girl parade in the sand—”
The brunette’s eyes widened with avid fascination. “I want to see.”