Book Read Free

Together in Darkness

Page 9

by Sloan McBride


  "It's probably a college prank, although it's a rather gruesome one."

  "Yeah, not your general hell week stunt. It's not even hell week at that."

  "True. Well I better get back into this. Take it easy, Jake."

  "You, too."

  The resonate sound of the phone jogged Jake. “Austin."

  "I saw her first, Jake.” The voice was brutally cold.

  "Who?"

  "You fucking know who. The beautiful brunette you waltzed around the floor last night.” His voice sounded somewhat agitated.

  "What do you want?” Jake asked calmly, even though his stomach churned.

  "Hmmm. How many lies are left? How smart are you Jake?” The phone went dead.

  * * * *

  Allison appreciated the beauty of a summer morning in New England. In her small piece of the big world, the quiet rustling of water and fresh smell of the ocean gave her comfort.

  Her meditation and determination had shored up her defenses so the dreams were not occurring quite as often. The migraines, however, had tripled. The Fioricet, cool cloths and dark rooms did nothing to ease the pounding. Some days it seemed the whole top of her head might blow off. Paul worried about her condition and had suggested she spend time in the hospital so he could run tests. She'd adamantly refused.

  Once or twice she'd lowered her shields to seek out Alex, hoping to sense him without his awareness. Those experiments had failed. Immediately, he knew she was close and tried to latch on and pull her toward him. Frantically, she fought her way back and erected the wall again to keep him out. In those brief encounters, Allison felt nothing of the boy she'd once known. Had he changed that much? It saddened her to think so.

  She unlocked the car door and started to slide in when she noticed a white florist box on the backseat. Her stomach sank. Allison knew what awaited her, so she lifted the lid to see red tissue paper. The black rose looked splattered with red spots like blood.

  She headed out to a meeting at GTT, but at the last minute, she pulled into a small park area and retrieved the card Detective Lancaster had given her. The inside of her head buzzed as she explained to Lancaster that she had received another white box. Her vision blurred while she rattled off her location. Pressing her fingers to her temple, she tried to concentrate on what the detective was saying. The area around her grew darker. The cell phone slipped through her fingers landing on the grassy ground.

  In her mind, she saw a quaint little house with a pastel-colored bedroom, paisley wallpaper and a white comforter ripped off the bed, thrown to the floor. Gloved hands circled around the woman's neck. Her hands stretched out in front of her, trying to break his hold. He tightened his grip and closed her airway. Allison stumbled, dizzy. Another woman slumped on the bed, her head lolled to one side. The images moved forward.

  Blood seeped into the colorful bed sheets and pieces of words written in the victim's blood crawled down the wall to a coagulated stop, spelling out an eerie message—Liar. Allison wilted to the ground unconscious.

  * * * *

  Jake returned just as Bill, Peter and Margo raced out of the station. “What's happened?"

  "I got a call from Allison Brody. She received another florist box from our friend but I lost contact. She's at Governor's Park off Commonwealth Avenue."

  "I'm coming with you."

  "Get in,” Lancaster said as he pulled open the driver's side door.

  Jake jumped out of the car at the park and ran to where Allison lay on the ground. He pressed two fingers to her neck and felt a strong pulse, but her pale complexion and rapid breathing worried him. Carefully, he examined her head, neck, arms for any sign of injury.

  "Is she alive?” Peter Carmichael asked.

  "Yes.” Jake turned to Lancaster. “Do you have a blanket or something in your car?"

  "We do,” Margo said.

  "Get it."

  Margo rushed off while Jake proceeded to loosen the first two buttons on Allison's blouse and rolled her onto her back. When Margo gave him the blanket, he covered Allison's body and balled up his jacket to put under her head. “Call 911 and get the paramedics here."

  * * * *

  Allison woke up in Addison Gilbert Hospital about an hour later with no recollection of fainting. She had an IV taped to her hand with clear liquid dripping in the tube. Her head hurt and she couldn't swallow because her throat was so dry. When she tried to sit up, her head throbbed even more and pain seared her eyes. She fell gently back against the pillow.

  Paul Kincaid entered the room followed by Detective Lancaster, Jake Austin, and some other people she didn't recognize. Paul placed his hand on her forehead to check her temperature and then used a pin light to see how her pupils reacted. Tenderly, he held her wrist and took her pulse.

  Slowly, the images and the scene that had precipitated her blackout returned. She felt nauseous and placed her hand on her stomach. She grabbed for the container on the table just as she vomited.

  Confident that she would live, Kincaid put aside the doctor in him and stroked the back of his hand down her right cheek while he held her hand. “How are you feeling?"

  "Not that good.” Her dry throat ached.

  Paul handed her some water. “I told you these headaches were trouble. And the way you've been popping those pills.” He shook his head.

  She managed a weak smile. “Sorry. I don't usually cause so much excitement."

  Jake, Margo, and Peter moved out of the way as Dr. Kincaid spoke with Allison. Jake leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, but he was in no way relaxed. His jaw tightened when Kincaid stroked Allison's cheek. Invisible daggers flew through the air, imbedding themselves into Kincaid's body.

  Peter suggested they step outside while Lancaster spoke to Allison about what had happened. “So who is she and what does she have to do with this case?"

  Jake looked at his friend. “She came to us a couple of days ago claiming to see through The Surgeon's eyes. She offered to help."

  "A psychic?” Margo said incredulously.

  "She never said the word psychic, but yeah, I'd say that's it."

  "So you did what? Let her assist?"

  Jake balled his hands into fists at his side. “No, Peter. I told her I didn't believe it, and we'd stick to regular police procedures.” He glanced at Allison's door and his features softened slightly before hardening again at Peter's next remark.

  "Then what's going on and why did we find her passed out in the park?"

  "The black rose in her car is the second she's received. We believe it's from The Surgeon."

  "What?” Margo gasped.

  Jake's long fingers shoved his hair out of his eyes. “I've had a feeling for a while that she's the reason he's changed his routine.” He moved as a stretcher passed by. “Call it a hunch, but she's a pawn in his game. I just don't know where she fits."

  "I don't like it, Jake. This isn't his usual MO."

  "I know, damn it! I know."

  Lancaster came out of the room, the cell phone at his ear. “There's been another murder,” he mouthed.

  Jake hesitated for an instant before following the others to the elevator. Leaving Allison alone with Kincaid bothered him more than it should have.

  Allison raised the bed to sit up more. Paul had insisted on keeping her for observation even though she'd protested.

  "You don't need to hide in the shadows. I know you're there,” Allison rasped.

  Yanni appeared beside her bed. “'Tis dangerous for you to keep suppressing your abilities. This evil is too strong, and if you do not have your full strength, you will not beat him."

  "I'm very tired, Yanni. Can we talk about this later?"

  "Austin watches you with a hunger. Do not take him lightly, for he, too, is a powerful force to be reckoned with."

  Allison's brief laugh held no amusement. “That, you don't need to tell me. I've felt that force up close.” She sighed and closed her eyes. “I need to sleep."

  Before Yanni could respond
, Allison dozed off. Yanni placed her withered hand on Allison's head. “Gather your strength, for you will need all your wits about you when the time comes to fight."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  When Jake and the others arrived, the ring of tape had been strung around the crime scene. Jake proceeded up the front walk after putting on the jumpsuit, plastic covers over his shoes, and surgical gloves on his hands.

  "Keep everyone out for a few minutes, Jody,” Lancaster ordered.

  "Yes, sir."

  He signed the D.A.'s log and followed Jake's progression through to the front room.

  Jake noted how undisturbed the house seemed until he reached the bedroom. An overwhelming coppery smell hung in the air and a heaviness, a deep sense of loss. Displayed for all to see was the body of a pretty, young woman, who still should have had a long life. Instead, she had become a pawn in a killer's game. “Do we know who she is?"

  "We will soon."

  Jake quietly nodded. He methodically surveyed the scene, immediately memorizing every detail. He fully entered the room and moved in a straight line toward the bed and the body. Lancaster stayed in the hallway.

  The same configuration carved in the skin, the same gory mutilation of the female anatomy, the words written in the victim's blood. He touched nothing and pivoted around in the spot where he stood, examining the entire room.

  Jake grunted before following the same line back to the door and brushed past Lancaster on his way outside.

  "You didn't find what you were looking for, did you?"

  "No, but I'll wait around and see what the others turn up. Maybe I'll canvass the area with some of your officers and talk with the neighbors."

  Almost on cue, a police car and two other vehicles pulled up. Out of one car came Peter and Margo. A cream-colored van parked next to the police car and another man and woman got out. She slid open the door and pulled out a camera with a long strap and put it around her neck. It swayed just below her belt, but didn't seem to interfere with her purposeful stride.

  "Peter,” Jake said and shook his hand.

  "Jake, we've been officially asked in by the Chief of Police."

  Jake looked at Lancaster who shrugged. “Logical."

  "I'm going to speak with the first officer on the scene,” Peter said and walked off.

  "Hey, Tobias, how's it hanging?” Margo said nodding toward the camera.

  "Thirty-five and by the fly, Margo. What's going on?” She laughed and Margo joined in. “Look at him standing there so cocky, like he owns the whole world. I hate that."

  Margo glanced over at Peter Carmichael. “I guess you shouldn't have married him then.” She chuckled at the grim expression on the other woman's face.

  "Then divorced. Don't forget that part."

  "Oh yeah, then divorced. It's funny though, how you always seem to end up working together."

  "Yes, isn't it?"

  Grim Jake said, “Bill, I'd like you to meet Genevieve Tobias. She's the best forensic photographer in fifty states."

  "On the planet you mean.” She smiled. “Nice to meet you, Detective."

  "Ma'am."

  Jake went on. “The guy lurking behind her in the dark shades is our forensic pathologist, Dr. Zachariah Quincy."

  "Doctor.” Lancaster nodded and did a quick shake of his hand before the doctor retreated.

  "You'll have to excuse him, Detective, but he'd just finished a long extensive case and was looking forward to a break when we got the word to come here,” Tobias offered.

  "Completely understandable."

  Peter came over and Margo jumped in. “If you don't need me here, Peter, I'll head back to the station and finish getting everything put together and booted up."

  "Go ahead, Margo. I'll catch a ride back with someone.” He looked directly at Tobias.

  "Okay, Ciao."

  The group began to process the scene while Jake and Bill stayed out of the way. Lancaster spoke to some of the officers passing out instructions for canvassing the neighborhood. Jake tried to visualize the previous night and all the events that had taken place. When Bill walked over to the tree where Jake waited, he asked, “Is it my imagination, or did I sense some tension there with Carmichael and Tobias?"

  Jake let go a brief laugh. “No, you didn't imagine it. Peter and Ginny were married."

  "Were?"

  "Yeah, she divorced him."

  "Ouch. That's gotta make working together a little harder."

  "They're both professionals and good at what they do."

  "I'd guess they'd have to be in this outfit."

  * * * *

  Two days later in the conference room at the police station being used as the command post, Detective Lancaster, Jake, Tobias, and Dr. Quincy discussed the autopsy findings of the newest victim.

  Jake said, “Okay, Quincy. You're on."

  "Not much you don't already know, Jake. She died between two and four a.m. that morning. Same weapon used. From the cuts in the skin, I'd say probably a knife with a serrated edge of some sort. She died of strangulation and was disemboweled postmortem. No external signs of rape or other sexual abuse. No marks on wrists or ankles to show that she was restrained in any way. No defensive wounds, nothing under the fingernails. The words on the wall were written with the victim's blood."

  "Have they found any traces of anyone else in that house?"

  "No, Detective."

  Tobias opened the file she had in front of her and passed over photographs of the scene and the body. Jake held the picture of the message written on the wall. My hatred consumed me. He repeated them lyrically, silently, with a rhythm only one other knew.

  A song of death.

  "So we're not much further than we were yesterday."

  "Not much."

  Margo sat off in the corner at a table with her laptop gently tapping the keys. She rarely spoke when she worked, except to provide necessary information. So focused sometimes that she missed meals, but made up for them after the case was completed, Jake mused. She ate like a horse for two days straight. The door opened and Peter strolled in. He briefly looked at Tobias before sitting down at the end of the table. “They released the Brody woman from the hospital."

  All Jake's senses went on alert. “When?"

  "About an hour ago. Kincaid took her home."

  "Surveillance?"

  "Yeah, just like before, low profile. We don't want to tip off The Surgeon, if he's watching her."

  Jake snarled and his lip curled back. “He's watching."

  * * * *

  Paul Kincaid finally left and Allison was relieved. She couldn't take another minute of him fawning over her for a single incident. To her mind, the terrible headaches and blackout were minor compared to what was at stake. Who knew how long the killer would wait before he struck again? Sitting idle did not figure into her plans.

  Allison pulled on a robe and went downstairs to the study. How sturdy were the barricades she'd developed in her mind? Would they keep Alex out long enough for her to form a plan? Anger erupted. Throwing her head back, she roared at the top of her lungs. The room shook, books flew from the shelves of the hand-carved oak bookcase her grandfather built. The lighthouse painting that hung on the west wall fell. The released energy surged.

  "Your powers are growing."

  "What!” Allison whipped around, confused by what had happened, to see Yanni sitting on the window sill.

  "Intense emotions, anger, fear. They have strengthened your resolve and in doing so, have allowed your abilities to break free."

  "Abilities? What are you talking about? I've never done anything like this before.” Allison flung her arms out in a wide circle encompassing the disheveled room.

  "I tried to tell you, Allison,” Yanni said as she hopped to the floor. “Visions are only one part of your gifts. We are special, you and I. Not only do we house all the secrets of our line, but we were born on the equinox and that phenomenon enhances all the a
bilities the human mind and body possess."

  "What are you saying?” Allison laid her head between her hands and massaged her skull.

  "With time and determination, you, too, could be a powerful force."

  "Yanni, you're babbling, or crazy, or something. You make me sound like another one of Mother Nature's disasters."

  A soft, gentle hand touched Allison's forehead. “Not disaster, little one. Treasure."

  "This is crazy.” Allison shot out of her chair like a bullet, putting as much distance between herself and Yanni as possible. “I'm nothing to anyone, except a freak or a mistake.” Twisting the ends of the belt on her robe and with anguished sincerity she said, “People condemn what they don't understand. And they don't understand me. Please go,” Allison whispered as she closed her eyes and withered to the sofa.

  A short time later Allison rose, alone. She opened the French doors and wandered out to the patio. Her flimsy nightgown billowed in the breeze, the robe left inside. As if cemented in concrete, her feet dragged, making it seem a perilous journey down to the sand. The water lapped the shore and wind blew through the trees, but Allison didn't notice for she sought one thing.

  Luna.

  Raising her arms above her head, the sleeves of her gown fell to her shoulders. They formed a vee with fingertips outstretched toward the round, white, full moon as if drawing some sort of power from its rays. “Be still and silent in the night, when creeping down to find your light. The secret of a woman's power, a full moon on the bewitching hour."

  Allison sank to her knees in the soft sand. “Luna, oh beautiful moon, whose driving force is Goddess on high, help me understand the reason behind what is happening. What cosmic tumblers have fallen into place to cause this drastic change in my world?” With that, she hung her head and cried, too caught up in her anguish to notice the dark form by the trees.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Bill Lancaster hunted Jake out at Cameron's. He sat himself down at the table and ordered coffee. “So."

  "So what?” Jake's right brow rose inquisitively.

 

‹ Prev