Together in Darkness

by Sloan McBride

  Allison stopped off in the great room where Jake slept, covered in sweat. His head jerked back and forth, his features gripped in a frown. He mumbled and screamed out once. Allison reached down and touched his face unable to watch his torment any longer. “Jake."

  His long fingers grasped her wrist like a vice. “Jake!” His eyes popped open He looked disoriented at first. Then as he focused and realized what he was doing, he loosened his grip. “What happened? Are you okay?” he asked.

  "Yes, are you?"

  Jake sat up, his torso bare. “I'm fine."

  Allison sat down next to him, lightly touching his shoulder where her fingertips traced a small scar. Jake closed his eyes willing himself to ignore the sensations as she trailed her finger along the puffy white skin.

  "What demons haunt you, Jake Austin?"

  "No more than anyone else,” he lied.

  "I know that's not true. I've seen your demon. I just haven't figured it all out yet."

  "There's still plenty of night left, why don't you go on back to bed?” He brushed her hand aside. He couldn't look at her, so he watched the dying embers of the fire. She left quietly, no more questions, no protests. It unnerved him how in tune they were. This wasn't supposed to happen. It would make what he had to do even more difficult and put her in danger.

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  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  The next morning, Allison came down to the smell of bacon and coffee. On the counter she saw more food than she normally ate in a week. “Jeez, I'm going to gain weight if you keep this up. A lot of weight.” She reached over and snagged his coffee mug.

  "Oh. I never thought to ask.” He grinned. “Do you like a big breakfast?"

  "Not usually, but since you went to all this trouble."

  "Thanks,” he huffed. “Why don't you tell me what you usually eat, and I'll try not to overdo it from now on?"

  "Well.” Allison tapped the tip of her finger on her teeth. “Generally through the week, I eat light. Like an egg and toast or an omelet. When Martha shows up some weekends, she'll prepare some heavenly, uh—extremely filling meal and I end up not eating the rest of the day."

  "Ah. Okay, I guess we'll talk later about lunch and dinner.” He winked as he placed the plate on the table. “Juice?"

  "Sure.” Allison dropped into the chair, eyeing the plate stacked high with food. “Oh, Lord!” She groaned inwardly then started right in the middle.

  Needing a breather before she attempted to fit in the pancakes, Allison sat back and watched the sunlight stream across the room, highlighting the color of Jake's dark hair as he finished off his eggs.

  At this moment with no crisis, no tension, he looked young and full of possibilities. There were laugh lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth, so she knew he was capable of such an act, and had done so at some time in the past. His voice sounded rich in tone and tenor. All the tightness and grating fell away, like a bad piece of cloth.

  She glimpsed the man Jake had once been and could be again, she supposed, were he to ever get beyond this ordeal with The Surgeon. For some reason, she felt that the battle between the two had changed Jake Austin probably more than any other event in his life, as it had changed hers. “So what are your plans for the day?"

  "I have a few odds and ends that need to be done around this place. I don't get up here very often."

  She watched his chest rise and fall beneath his green flannel shirt. He rose to get another cup of coffee and she couldn't be oblivious to the way his worn jeans rode low on his hips and seemed, oh so comfortable. “That's a shame. It really is quite beautiful."

  "I've been working on it little by little.” Jake started to clear the table.

  "Let me do that,” Allison said. “I'll go crazy with nothing to do."

  "Okay. Thanks. I'll be out in the garage for a while. And Allison,” his gaze was intense, “don't use the phone."

  "Yes, sir,” she saluted, not intending to tell him that she had called Nick last night.

  After cleaning up the breakfast mess, Allison wandered around the house, taking more time to appreciate the furnishings and how the style of each room unmasked another small insight into the character of its owner.

  The great room where they had talked last night in front of the fireplace could be described no other way. Spacious, but with a warm feeling, the room brought to mind cozy nights and hot memories. Allison picked up the blanket Jake had used and held it close to her body. His scent coaxed her senses to the point that she set the cover on the sofa and stepped away.

  "Oh, my."

  Through the entry hall there lay another good sized room. She assumed it to be the music room because it housed a fine stereo system, built-in racks containing numerous CDs, and an exquisite spit-shined baby grand piano, a Steinway no less. If she dared to touch it, she'd surely find it in perfect tune.

  Jake had various types of music. There were contemporary artists, music from the sixties and seventies, and the classics—Mozart, Brahms and Beethoven to name a few. She sat on the piano bench, closed her eyes and tried to imagine Jake Austin sitting in the same spot, performing a classical selection with all the skill and power of any concert pianist. The notes would flow through his fingers to the keys, creating a melody that brought a tear to the eye of anyone listening.

  Jake Austin, the master of his own destiny, even if he didn't believe it ... she did. “Damn! He's infuriating."

  Allison went upstairs to finish her brief unpacking. In one of the dresser drawers, she found a huge pad of drawing paper and charcoal pencils. She often used these to sketch out designs to some day create for the clothing industry. “How did he know?"

  Later, she curled up on the loveseat by the windows to draw some designs she'd been kicking around in her head. Sheets of paper lay on the floor and at the other end of the loveseat. Three designs, one elegant, one business, and one casual seen from different sides. Planning an off-the-shoulder number with a wrap, she began the outline. Short, quick strokes and shading, but it surprised Allison to see a face taking form instead. Deep eyes nicely spaced, a strong jaw, and features that she recognized. A stern look, which she knew all too well, lips in a thin tight line. It was Jake, she realized, but different.

  Allison stared at the picture transfixed by the eyes, which drew her like a magnet. They were compelling, intense and deep blue. But Jake's eyes were green. She quickly flipped the page too discomfited by what had just happened.

  It meant something, but what?

  * * * *

  Jake stomped his feet before entering the kitchen and washed up at the sink. Hungry, he prowled the house in search of Allison. Peeking through the open bedroom doors, he scanned the room to find her on the loveseat, knees bent and the sketch pad propped against them. Papers were scattered all around her. He leaned comfortably against the doorjamb, one foot over the other and his arms crossing his chest, watching her fingers move furiously. Engrossed in what she was doing, Allison didn't notice him at first.

  "I didn't hear you come in,” she finally said after looking up.

  "Obviously."

  "I get lost when I'm drawing my designs. Sorry.” She grinned.

  "I'm finished for the day. Would you like an early dinner?"

  "Dinner!” Allison shrieked. “What time is it?"

  "Around four."

  "We went right past lunch.” She chuckled. “Good thing I ate that big breakfast."

  Jake laughed. “Yeah, well, I'm hungry, but I could use a shower."

  Allison rose and stretched out her muscles. “I'll go see what I can scare up for dinner.” She winked as she scooted by him. “I can actually cook too, a little.” He shook his head, amused, and closed the door.

  Allison dug up the makings for a pasta salad then scoured the cupboards for something to go with it. She decided on a seafood delight. It had been years since she'd prepared a meal for a man. The last was her father, when she was twelve. It took several excruciating hours, but she'd don
e it all by herself. She'd take as much pleasure in preparing this dinner as she had that one.

  When Jake emerged he was taken aback at the sight of Allison dancing around his kitchen. She had found a pop radio station and pranced back and forth between the dining room and the kitchen carrying heaven knew what. During one such trip, Jake followed Allison, startled her, and they almost lost part of their dinner.

  For the first time, he actually saw Allison devour food. He was beginning to wonder if she ever really ate much.

  "You made the food, I should do the cleaning,” Jake said.

  "Nonsense. If we work together, we'll be done in half the time.” He washed, she dried. Several times their hands brushed and meaningful looks were exchanged. “By the way, I want to thank you for the sketch pad."

  "I knew you'd need something to do while you were here."

  "Very thoughtful of you."

  "Look, Allison. Despite what you might think, I would rather have you home in your own bed and me on my way.” He threw the towel on the counter. “But until I catch him...."

  "I know, I know. We're stuck here.” His words had hurt, she realized.

  "Precisely."

  Allison went directly upstairs after snatching a book from Jake's library. She wasn't sleepy and she'd done enough sketching, so with pillows bundled behind her back, Allison lost herself in a story of young love and foolish ideals. Not having slept much the night before, she soon became drowsy and drifted off. Her head lolled to the right and then slapped back to the left when the images appeared. Crimson blood soaked the sheets and bloody words dripped on the wall. A beautiful young woman dead in a sea of books.

  Allison woke up, her hands still clutching the sheet. “The school,” she whispered.

  * * * *

  Jake answered his cell on the first ring. “Hi, Peter.” He sat up shading his eyes with his hand to keep the intruding sunlight from blinding him.

  "We have another victim."

  "When?"

  "Early this morning. We got a tip."

  "A tip?"

  "Yeah, from him."

  "The Surgeon doesn't work that way. Are you sure?"

  "He answered questions with specificity. It could only have been him."

  "Why?"

  Peter sighed. “He said you would know why."

  "Shit. He's figured out I took Allison."

  "That's what we thought. But, Jake, he released some sort of rage on this victim. Not like any of the other scenes—more violent."

  Jake ran his fingers through his matted hair. “I knew he'd be mad, but I didn't think he'd do this. And he didn't call me, he called you."

  "Everyone's working on the scene already. I'll have Ginny e-mail you the pictures."

  "Thanks. And Peter, I'm sorry I bailed without telling you."

  "We'll deal with all that after this is over. Right now we have to concentrate on getting this son-of-a-bitch."

  "I'll work from here and let you know if I come up with anything."

  "Okay. By the way, how's Ms. Brody holding up after being kidnapped?"

  Jake chuckled and scratched his head. “So far so good, but I'm watching my back.” He heard Peter laughing as he hung up.

  Maybe a break, stepping back from the investigation, would give him a new perspective and let him see something he hadn't seen before?

  He spent the day cutting grass, weed eating, and staining the back patio, everyday normal things in his, oh so abnormal life. He deliberated over all that had happened since his arrival in Gloucester. None of the UNSUB's actions were consistent with what he'd done up until then.

  Later on in the day, Jake cleaned the brushes, closed the stain, and went inside to check for the e-mail from Tobias. He stepped in the garage just as his phone rang. “Austin."

  "Again you have something that belongs to me."

  Jake leaned against the wall and said, “She doesn't belong to you. She never has."

  "Bullshit. She became mine the minute we linked. I'd think you would understand that, Jake."

  Not taking the bait Jake said, “Why won't you stop this? Let me bring you in so I can help you.” His sinister laughter gave Jake goose-bumps.

  "Help? I don't need help. I work well on my own. Let's see.... “He paused. “It's been two years and you've not caught me yet. You have a whole team of FBI agents and still I roam the country."

  "Stop. Stop now."

  "Give her back to me, Jake."

  "No."

  "I'll have her one way or another."

  * * * *

  Allison screamed as she threw the last crumpled up paper at the television across the room. She hadn't been able to complete one design today and she'd spent hours trying. Her thoughts always strayed to last night's vision. Allison knew another murder had been committed, yet Jake kept quiet. “The bastard won't quit,” she growled. The natural light dimmed as she took a deep breath and tried one more time to get something useful out of this day.

  The sun hung low in the sky before Allison gave up sketching and decided she needed to eat. Today was the kind of day at home when she'd make hot tea with honey and snuggle up on her cozy chair to read. She really missed her tea for these cool nights.

  After emptying the coffeemaker and setting it up again, Allison scavenged the kitchen. She settled on omelets and cut up the ham, onions, cheese and red peppers. She'd heard the shower running when she came down earlier and figured Jake had used one of the spare rooms on this floor to clean up. At the end of the hallway, a door stood ajar. She peeked in and saw him sitting in front of the computer, his hair still damp. He'd made this room a kind of office area. “I'm making omelets. Do you...?” She froze suspended by the horrible pictures that practically jumped off the screen. Jake quickly switched off the monitor.

  "I'm sorry, Allison. I didn't mean for you to see those.” She blinked a few times to focus. “I've already seen them. Last night."

  "What?"

  "He did it. I thought—I'd hoped...."

  Jake rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “What are you talking about?"

  "I had a vision last night. I saw him kill her. She's the librarian at the high school. Her name is Kayla."

  "You know her?” He frowned.

  "No, not personally, but he knew who she was."

  Jake escorted her out of the room and back into the kitchen. “Here, sit down. You're white as a sheet.” He grabbed her mug and filled it with the now brewed coffee. “I'll go start a fire.” When he returned he knelt down in front of her.

  "I'm all right, Jake.” As all right as she could be after spending time in the mind of a murderer.

  "No, you're not. No one should see those things."

  "But I have.” She touched her palm to his cheek. He closed his fingers over her hand. Allison leaned down and touched her lips to his.

  He jerked back. “Don't.” Jake skittered, almost falling. He straightened and stuffed his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and went over to the patio doors. She couldn't see his face, but she felt the distance between them widen. “Go on up to bed. I have some work to do.” The steel-laced voice had given her another order. His kick-ass, take charge persona slipped back into place.

  Without saying a word, Allison left the room. That cocksure, bite me attitude of his really pissed her off. How dare he bring her here with that line about it being for her own good when it affected him just as much? He'd soon find he had gotten more than he bargained for.

  For a short while Allison read, happy for the distraction. She finally turned the light off and lay down. In the stillness of the night, she heard him playing the piano. The tune was haunting in a way and familiar. Odd, it sounded like the same tune she'd had stuck in her head for the last few days. She couldn't remember the title. In her mind's eye Allison saw him sitting stiff backed on the bench, eyes closed, seeing the music in his head. Something was coming. With the melody floating around her, she erected the shields again and tried to sleep.

  For reasons sh
e didn't understand, Allison woke suddenly. A faint glow lit the room and a cool breeze rushed through. Several feet away, she saw Jake's silhouette against the blackness. In only his blue jeans, with one arm propped against the doorframe, he stared into the night. Layers of muscles rippled down his back. Sleek like a tiger his moves were stealth and power. She had witnessed them often during their time together. Without turning he quietly said, “You should sleep."

  It didn't surprise her that Jake knew she watched him. He had more intuitions than he let on. “What are you doing?” Her voice sounded raspy and hushed but accusatory.

  "There's a storm coming, Allison."

  Did he mean that figuratively? “And?"

  Jake lowered his arm but still didn't face her. “And you should sleep."

  Allison levered herself up, brimming with anger. She slapped her hands on the bed. “Damn it, Jake, I'm tired of being told what to do. I've been on my own a long time. Quit thinking you can control me."

  He swirled around, the small light glowing in his dark eyes. “What does control you, Allison? Your actions have been irresponsible."

  "I control myself."

  "Right.” He crossed his arms over his chest and his chin jutted forcefully.

  Allison stared at him, suddenly filled with sorrow. Tears formed that she tried to hold back. “Why are we doing this?"

  "I don't have the answers."

  "Who does?” One tear rolled down her cheek.

  Jake's posture eased. “Maybe no one."

  Allison gently wiped the tears away. “So what now?” For a moment, she thought she saw indecision or uncertainty cross his face, but it evaporated too quickly for her to be sure. He turned back toward the doors before saying, “You should sleep."

  She braced her left hand on her forehead silently praying for strength for both of them. Quietly she slid from the bed and padded bare feet across the room. She weaved her hands around him, laying her cheek against his back. He didn't jerk. His body warmed her. “Lay with me,” she whispered.

  "That's not a good idea.” She ignored his small protest and coaxed him around to face her without much of a fight. “Why won't you let me close to you?"

  Jake set her away from him and in a harsh voice said, “I gave up my soul a long time ago. I have nothing left to give.” His eyes burned dark with his declaration.