Doug watched until the trailer lights were tiny red eyes in the distance. He sighed, shook his head and said, “There goes my fucking Sunday.”
Chapter 2
The lights blazed all around the house when Tom got home. Flitting bats swooped at bugs near the light that illuminated the corrals. He led Chance from the trailer, stripped the saddle and bridle off and then rinsed him with the hose. The horse shook himself off and headed for the dustiest part of the corral for a roll. Tom tossed him a bunch of hay. He and Farley walked to the house. He was spent, each step heavy, and he slowed as he reached the front steps. What would he tell Cami? Doug said not to tell anyone until after they had walked over the scene. And that was weird, but he was too overwhelmed and tired to question it. But Cami? She was smart. What kind of story would she believe? Especially when the deputy came by the next morning to pick him up? He would fudge for awhile.
“I’m home,” he called. The house was dead quiet, and for a moment a terrible thought flashed through his mind.
He heard Cami stir in the bedroom. “Hi, sweetie,” she called. “I thought you were never coming home.” She came out of the bedroom, her long dark hair tousled. She was already in her nightgown and her eyes sleepy. She walked over and gave him a hug.
Tom hugged her back and held her. And held her. She pushed back a bit so she could peer up at him. “What’s the matter? Did something happen?”
He pulled her close again so she couldn’t see his face. “Oh not much. I’m just tired. I feel kinda achy, I think I’ll take a bath.” He said it all so nonchalantly, yet a little too fast; he thought she might question him, but her caring nature kicked in.
“I’ll bet! Gone all day. And you didn’t take that lunch I packed. Go ahead and get in the tub. I’ll bring you a drink. What would you like?”
“Crown Royal.” A whiskey or four sounded just right.
He undressed and ran water into the huge, claw-foot tub. He leaned against the vanity and tried not to think. At last, he sighed and stepped into the water. It was hot tub hot. Cami always said he looked like a ham when he got out. He was tired and his bones did ache a little. He just wanted to soak and forget all he had seen today … and done. Cami brought him a big whiskey on the rocks and kissed him. “You need to eat something. Want me to cook you a steak?”
He didn’t feel hungry at all, but he knew he should eat. “That sounds good, sweetheart. Maybe a salad and some bread too.”
She smiled at him and kissed his forehead. “I’m glad you’re home; I hate it when you’re gone all day.”
He stretched out in the long tub. It was so big that he could almost lay his six-foot-two frame flat out in it. The whiskey was smooth in his mouth and smoldered down his throat. For the first time his mind edged away from what had happened to him. He drained his glass and set it on the window ledge. He leaned against the sloping back of the tub and closed his eyes.
The man with the eyes that you did not want to look into stood by the tub. He looked at Tom asleep in the water. His knife was sharp and had dried blood now turned brown still on the blade. He was a very tall man and strong; he could kill Tom in just a second. Cami dropped something in the kitchen. The horrible eyes moved to the door. His fingers tightened on the knife. He turned on his heel towards the hallway …
“No!” Tom screamed. The dream had been so real that he was standing straight up and dripping in the bathtub. His heart galloped in his chest and Cami raced to the doorway, hot mitts on her hands and fear on her face.
“Tom!”
“God! I’m sorry—I fell asleep. Had a nightmare. Sorry.” He sat back down in the water. It was still warm, so he couldn’t have been asleep that long. He plunged water over his face and began to wash up in earnest.
Cami wasn’t going to let that go. “Damn, is something wrong? You seem … something’s bothering you? What was your dream about?”
He lay flat, submerged his head and got his hair wet to buy a few seconds. He could tell her about the dream and she would be none the wiser. She could go stew on it while she cooked; it would give him time to think of what to tell her about tomorrow.
He sat up and shampooed his hair. “Oh. The dream. I don’t know why, but I dreamt this tall, long-haired, blond guy was in the house and he was standing here about to kill me …”
Cami wrinkled her brow. That was plenty for her to chew on. If Tom had a good imagination, Cami had a phenomenal one. Once she read a scary book and for the next four months was on edge if she had to be alone. Her blue eyes met his. “A long-haired blond guy?”
Just then the smoke alarm went off. “Shit! Your steak!”
Tom sighed and rinsed his hair. Cami was a trained journalist and a natural-born busybody. She was his why girl, and trying to keep something from her was like trying to keep a kid out of the candy jar. The less he said, the better.
When he tied on his robe and came out to the table he was ready for her questions. He poured himself another Crown Royal, about half a glass, and Cami raised an eyebrow. “Just what the doctor ordered?”
“Hell, there are a lot more old drunks than old doctors, so let’s have another round.” He smiled at her and drank a gulp like water.
He tucked into the food and discovered he was famished. Cami watched him eat. She reached over and took a sip of his whiskey. “Ugh. That burns. I don’t know how you can drink so much of it.”
He smiled and concentrated on his food. It helped that he had fasted all day, and he did not think of the baby or the evildoers until he was dabbing his bread into the pink juice from the steak. He was done. He dropped the bread on the plate and pushed it away. He had another swallow of whiskey and decided to beat Cami to the punch. “Doug Nelson is going to swing by tomorrow. He wants me to go with him up into the hills.”
“What for? And why on a Sunday?” Cami wanted Sunday for R&R and sometimes they even went to church.
“I don’t know. He said something about using my tracking at some scene. He was really hush-hush about it. He told me not to tell anyone.”
“That’s odd. I mean, I know you’re a good tracker, but don’t they have someone else?”
“I know. Anyway, he’ll be here early, so I guess we should turn in.” The whiskey had worked its magic and the yawn he gave was not feigned.
Cami still had questions. “Which hills and how long will you be gone? And how did he get a hold of you? He didn’t call here.”
“Oh, I saw him in town and he stopped me. Kind of spur of the moment I guess. I just told him yes and took off. I just wanted to get home, so I didn’t ask questions. Doug’s helped me out before, so I didn’t feel like I could say no.”
Cami sighed and cleared the table. “Well, we’ll know more tomorrow I guess.”
Tom was asleep before Cami finished brushing her teeth. She watched him from the bathroom doorway, toothbrush still in her mouth. How he could fall asleep so fast and most anywhere still amazed her. There he was, lights burning overhead, naked and sawing logs in two minutes. Cami joined him in a moment and he half awoke and cuddled up to her in the darkness. “Good night. I love you.” He kissed her lips.
“Good night, I love you too.” This was the best part of the day for her. Having Tom’s muscular arm holding her close to his hard body, the soft bed beneath her, she felt loved, safe and comfortable. Her mind went back over the short time she’d seen Tom tonight. First, he came in dragging, saying he was achy. Okay, she could buy that. Riding all day in the hot sun without eating—she would probably be achy and mean as a bear. But having a nightmare in the bathtub? To the point of standing up? That had not happened before. A tall, blond man in the house with a knife? Cami shuddered and snuggled closer to Tom. Living out here on their ranch was great, because it was off by itself and secluded, but when you were all by yourself it sometimes seemed a bit lonely, and if you happened to feel scared … she didn’t like to think about things like that. She was still pondering Tom’s visit with the deputy when she drifted off.
> Chapter 3
Tom woke with a start. He had heard a baby crying. He was standing up again, only this time he was by the baby’s room and he had his pistol in his hand. Sweat streamed down his body in little rivers. Never, ever, had he been a sleepwalker, much less a gun-toting sleepwalker. The house was quiet, except for the sound of crickets drifting in through the open windows. He stepped into his son’s room to check on him. Landon was asleep, and so the cry was part of the dream. Tom stood and stared down at the sweet, golden curls, the tiny form with its small chest rising and falling. He gently laid his hand on the back of the baby’s head and said a little silent prayer. Tears flowed down his grizzled cheeks. He left the room and moved through the darkness to the front door. The stars were amazing. He stood on the front walkway gazing up at them, tears still running down his face. He choked back a sob. A baby had died today, right in front of him, and he hadn’t been able to do a thing about it. He let it out. He stood there naked, pistol in his right hand and tears streaming. Farley nuzzled his leg. Tom sobbed and bent and petted him. Tears wouldn’t help that baby, but Tom allowed himself a few minutes of release. Weeping was a rarity for him; emotions were most always in control, but he figured that today it was allowed.
Cami woke to the smell of coffee, bacon and pancakes. She could hear Landon making his happy little screeches. The girls and Tom were discussing something. Her alarm clock showed 6. Too early for her—hadn’t it just been midnight? She pulled the covers over her head. Tom walked in with a cup of coffee. “Here’s some coffee, sleeping beauty. Or should I say, “Here’s some cream and honey with a little coffee in it?”
“Thanks, sweetheart.” She sat up in bed. “You are so good to me. And you’re making breakfast too?”
“Oh, the girls are helping me and Landon is supervising.” He smiled at her. “And you are good to me. Leaving you here alone with three kids, all day long and then giving up half our Sunday, I’m lucky you haven’t cold-clocked me.”
Cami loved his smile, and she still marveled at how handsome he was. She pulled him to her and gave him a real kiss. “I may still cold-clock you, but you’re awfully cute.”
He kissed her back. “I better go make sure we’re not burning down the house.”
Cami savored her coffee. Sunday was her favorite day—no schedules, no hurrying here and there, just time to relax and rest. Well, as much rest a person could get with a nine-year-old, a seven-year-old and a toddler underfoot. She wrinkled her brow as she thought about how Tom would miss half the day with them.
They were still at the table, about halfway through their pancakes, when Farley began barking and Doug Nelson pulled up. Tom grabbed his hat, his pistol and holster and moved around the table kissing everyone goodbye. “I’ll be back as soon as I can; I love you.” He kissed Cami last. He could hear her trying to explain to the girls where he was going as he walked out the front door. “Daddy has to help Doug with some tracks up in the hills …”
Tom got into the Bronco. “Mornin’.”
Doug nodded and they drove out of the ranch in silence.
It wasn’t until they reached the turnoff to the canyon that Doug began. His words were slow, matching the pace of the Bronco as it bounced and jolted up the dirt trail. “There have been a number of incidents, over the years and in different locations in our state and in the neighboring states. Suspicious activity, with makeshift altars—some left with burnt debris on them and beer bottles scattered in the area—kids messing around—you know. And then”—he paused to maneuver the white SUV around a deep rut in the road—“there are some other sites. Places where you can tell a good number of people have been: brush trampled, grass flat, but everything is cleaned up and there is not a track or a cinder left. There was a site like that up near Winnemucca about four years ago and I happened to see it. Something about it was so eerie—it kinda creeped me out. I guess it’s obvious that we are dealing with the second type of gathering.”
Doug glanced at Tom who stared straight at the road ahead. “I don’t think our suspects came out this way, Tom.”
Tom could see this too. Only his truck and trailer tracks in and out were there. He nodded at Doug.
Doug slowed the vehicle as the road continued to deteriorate. “Anyway, I doubt we’ll find much today. How you want to proceed, I leave up to you. If I write a report, we’ll have media all over here looking for a juicy story. Lots of nosy, supposedly unbiased reporters asking you and your family and your friends and your enemies and people who have only seen you in the post office questions about your sanity, your aim, your past …” Doug’s voice drifted off.
Tom sat still in the truck seat, each jolt of the road underscoring Doug’s points.
“Don’t get me wrong—I believe you. I would believe you if you had said you had seen little green men up there. There will be a lot of people around here that will believe you, and that will only make the story bigger. If we bring the FBI in, it could go national. Can you imagine your face and story out there for everyone to see?”
“No. I suppose you’re right. There is no good that can come from this. You can turn around now if you want.” Tom felt sick. These people would get away with murder. He could pursue it—he would pursue it if it was just him. But from what Doug said these people were organized and he had a family to protect. Right now all the killers had was a glimpse of his face and that was all they were going to get. He could not afford the attention that even a local story would give him.
Doug stopped the truck. “I think we should go up there. I doubt we’ll find anything, but I’m sure a trained forensics team would go nuts. I just want to see and I want you to see what the place is like in plain daylight. That way neither of us will be wondering about it.”
Tom nodded and the Bronco moved forward. He had reflected so long on the baby and shooting the monster that he had not thought much on catching the murderers, the investigation and the dangers involved. He felt ill and rolled down the window. The scent of sage drifted in and that was better. It was already hot. They were almost to the washed out section of the road where he had parked.
Doug found a way to cross the washout, but it took two tries and the winch on the front of the truck to make it. As it was, they had to park about two miles away from the formation. They parked, and Tom got out and strapped on his holster. Doug already carried a sidearm, but he took his 12 gauge out of its stand, loaded it and put extra shells in his pocket. He handed a canteen to Tom. “Would you pack that?” Tom nodded and slung the strap over his shoulders. Doug strung some binoculars around his neck and locked the truck. “Let’s go.”
Both men moved through the brush silently. Years of hunting game had given them practice. The silence was probably unnecessary and they both knew it, but it was automatic.
They were coming up on the rocks opposite from the way Tom had approached last night. The half circle of the formation was visible from the road. When they were about halfway Doug used the binoculars. He handed them to Tom. Tom couldn’t see much, as the hill was so steep, but he could see black smoke marks on the sides of the taller boulders. He gave the binoculars back and they moved on.
The men were right. Susan and the group had cleaned the area before midnight. Her motorcycle scouts had been the ones Tom saw leaving. There were four of them, and they took to the brush until they reached the cars of the group. One waited there and the other three posted themselves evenly until the last one reached the highway on the opposite side of the mountain range, where they had left their truck and trailer for the cycles and four-wheeler. The group was in shock. Fear, rage and disbelief shook them. Ash had scared them all. There was no question of obedience with him. More than one of the less dedicated members of the group had disappeared and no one asked about their disappearance. But now he was gone. Susan would rise to replace him. But where Ash was an immediate, tall, murderous threat, Susan was more snake-like, cruel and manipulating. At least with Ash you knew it would be quick. Susan would make it last as long
as possible to get the maximum amount of fear and pain out of it. And with Ash there was no masquerade—he was a book with the title clearly visible, but Susan was a nasty little actress, changing as easily as a chameleon. One was never sure what she was thinking, and in the dealings of the group, most preferred Ash, although they trembled before him.
The group had returned to Vegas driving through the night. The city had the perfect blend of money, lust, deceit and crime, plus it was full of people who knew nothing about each other. And each day the city was flooded with a new tide of flesh from everywhere. Many of them were adrift, without family, friends, money or the ties that bind, and these were the ones that became the group’s victims or members.
Susan had dropped off the last member and was driving into her gated condo when the sun came over the horizon. Her brother’s body was still in the back of her pickup. She had covered him with a sleeping bag, then bought a lot of ice and stacked it on him. She would make some calls. Uncle would be first. He would know what to do. She pulled the truck into the garage and shut the door.
Chapter 4
Tom and Doug reached the site about noon. It was as Doug predicted; a makeshift stone altar, which would simply be a flat rock if it wasn’t for the black smoke marks and charcoal residue in the center. The earth beneath their feet was unmarked but for their footprints. The ground looked swept. Pieces of brush had broken off here and there and the weeds had been stomped underfoot, but that was all. There was no blood.
It was still and hot. Not a whiff of breeze stirred the air. The illness Tom felt won out and he vomited. Doug looked away to the east. “The air feels thick here and I ain’t a New Ager, but the aura of this place is fucked up. I can feel it too, Tom, but I guess in my line of work, I’ve gotten used to a lot of bad shit.” He moved a few steps away from Tom and the mess he had made. “They went out towards Hawthorne I bet. It’s a long way, but it makes sense. The road that way is decent and the probability of seeing anyone is low.”
The Sacrifice Page 2