“Don’t be in such a hurry to leave, Dr. Falcon,” a voice murmured in her ear.
The keys dug into her palm as her hands dropped to her sides. She knew that voice. It was the one that had woken her from sleep so many times in the past few months. It was the voice that echoed in all her nightmares.
“Barber,” she managed to say. “What are you doing here?”
“I would think that was fairly obvious. Haven’t you figured it out yet?”
“Figured out what?” She stood perfectly still, barely breathing.
“You know what’s going on.” His voice took on an angry edge. “Don’t try to tell me you don’t. You know all about the three women who were killed.”
“I know about them, yes. What does that have to do with you or me?” She bit on her lip hard enough to draw blood. She couldn’t sound frightened. That was just what he wanted.
“I killed them. With this knife. The same one I’m going to use on you.”
Slowly she turned to face him. The police officer she had faced on a Chicago expressway was gone. In his place was a nondescript fisherman, someone who would blend into the woodwork in the Upper Peninsula. In his checked jacket, jeans, baseball cap and boots he looked like threequarters of the men who lived in Eagle Ridge. Only his eyes revealed the madness inside him.
“Why, Ed?” she asked softly. Her only hope was getting him to talk, stalling him until Holt could return.
His face twisted. “Because you ruined me. Because of you, I was thrown off the police force. I lost my pension and my respect. And now I’m going to finish what I should have finished months ago. You’re going to pay for what you’ve done to me.”
“Why did you kill those other three women? They didn’t do anything to you.”
“They got in my way. The first one looked like you. It wasn’t until she was dead that I realized I’d made a mistake. The postmaster wouldn’t tell me where you were, so I had to kill her.”
“What about the third woman?” she asked, edging toward the open door. If she could get out of the range of that knife, she could run to her car. Barber was a big man, his bulk evident under the jacket. She was sure she’d be faster than he was.
It was almost as if he’d read her mind. Grabbing one of her arms, he pulled her into the room. “Don’t get any ideas, Dr. Falcon. You’re not going anywhere until I’m ready to go.”
He stumbled over Spike, lying unconscious on the floor, and pushed the dog to the side with his boot. “I ought to kill that worthless mutt,” he muttered. “If he hadn’t growled I would have had you last night.”
“You must have kicked him in the head. He’s already dead,” Tory lied, her lip quivering as she looked at the dog. She couldn’t look at Barber, couldn’t let him see the truth in her eyes.
Barber tightened his hold on her arm and shoved at Spike with his foot again. Tory winced. “Leave him alone. He can’t hurt you.”
“You’re awfully softhearted, aren’t you, Dr. Falcon?” Barber turned his attention to Tory, laying the blade of his knife against her chest.
“Why did you kill that third woman? She didn’t have anything to do with me.”
Barber shifted the blade as he watched her. “Someone had to die that night. It was supposed to be you, but you wouldn’t come out to the trees. I called you, but you wouldn’t come. So it had to be someone else.”
“What do you mean, you called me?” A chill crept over her, far colder than the evening breeze coming in through the open window.
Barber jerked his head up and stared toward the road. Without a word, he opened the front door and pulled her through it, the knife at her throat. Dragging her behind him, he slipped into the woods as an Eagle Ridge police car pulled into her parking lot.
The trees were silent tonight. She didn’t hear them call her name, didn’t hear them whisper to her. The only sound was the wind, sighing through the branches.
The moonlight dimmed suddenly, and she looked up to see clouds scudding across the surface of the moon, hiding it from view. Panic quivered inside her as Barber pulled her deeper into the woods, farther into the darkness. She stumbled and sagged against him, losing her footing on the slippery pine needles.
Finally he stopped, breathing heavily. She could no longer see the lights from her house, and despair threatened to wash over her. Holt, she cried in her mind. Holt, I need you. Help me.
But Holt wasn’t there. And when he arrived at her house, all he would find was an unconscious dog and an open window. He’d know what had happened, but by then it would probably be too late.
I love you, she told him silently. Whatever happens, I love you.
Barber peered in the direction of her house, listening. To distract him, she asked again, “What do you mean, you called me?”
He looked at her, triumph bright in his eyes. “I’ve been watching you. From the very beginning. As soon as I found out where you were, I’ve been here in the woods. Remembering. And waiting for my chance. You heard me. I saw that you did. When you walk from your house to the clinic, I saw the way you looked at me. I knew you heard me.”
“The trees,” she whispered. “I heard the trees calling for me.”
“That wasn’t the trees, that was me.” He sounded angry, and the knife flashed in his hands.
“I thought it was the trees, but it was really you, hiding in them.” She looked at him with horror. “How could you do that?”
He stared at her, and his eyes glittered. The madness shone out of them, as bright as the edge of his knife in the moonlight. “Your blood. I tasted your blood once, and the blood remembers.” His low voice quivered in the night air. “Blood always seeks its source. Once I realized that, I knew I could call you to me.”
That wasn’t possible. She knew it. But the mind was a powerful force, and if his beliefs and emotions were strong enough, that might be enough to forge some sort of link between them. “That’s why I was able to see the scene of the last murder in my mind.” she whispered. Fear twisted her heart in her chest as she realized what that meant. “Tonight you deliberately made me think you were killing someone else so Holt would leave,” she said, tremors racking her.
“I had to get rid of that cop.” Barber’s face twisted with hate. “He never left you alone.” His face relaxed into a gleeful smile. “But he’s not here now.”
“He will be soon. He’ll be back.”
“It’ll be too late.” As he talked, Barber had been pulling her into the woods. Now he stepped into a clearing, dragging her behind him. Horror washed over her as she realized it was the clearing where the last murder victim had been found.
If she didn’t do something now, she would be killed. He’d cut her throat with that knife, like he’d done to three other innocent women. I’m coming, Tory. Just hold on. I’m coming.
Holt! He was on his way. Letting her feet drag in the dirt, she watched Barber slow down. She had to keep him talking until she figured out a way to escape or Holt got here.
“How did you find me up here? No one in Chicago knows where I went,” she said, trying to keep the tremors out of her voice, focusing on Holt.
He gave her a look of sly satisfaction. “I watched you, of course. When you left Chicago, I followed you up here. It didn’t take much to find out you were thinking of moving back.”
She had thought she couldn’t be more terrified. She was wrong. “You mean you waited up here for me, waited for me to move to Eagle Ridge?” she whispered.
“I blended right in,” he answered smugly. “If you dress the part and buy bait regularly, nobody pays any attention to a fisherman. Especially around here.”
She shifted, testing him, and he immediately dug the knife deeper into her throat. Licking her lips, she asked, desperation in her voice, “What are you going to do after you kill me? Holt found one of your fingerprints at my house, you know.”
“You’re lying.” The ugly anger flashed in his eyes again. “I know better than to leave fingerprints.”
/> “But you did last time you were there. In red paint, outside the window you broke. By tomorrow morning, your name and description will be all over the country. They’ll be looking for you, Barber. And it won’t be like after you attacked me. It won’t be just a slap on the wrist and losing your job. You’ll be arrested and tried and convicted. You’ll spend the rest of your life in prison.” She clenched her hands at her sides, trying to stop them from trembling. Wave after wave of suffocating fear washed over her, trying to drown her. She struggled to keep her head above the deadly waters, knowing her only chance of escape was to convince Barber he was doomed.
Apparently Barber believed her. His face twisted with rage, but the knife he held to her throat trembled. “You’re lying, bitch.”
She didn’t know how she did it, but she managed to smile. “Wait and see.”
He reached out and grabbed her, digging his fingers into her arm. “You can be sure I will. Too bad you won’t be around to see it.”
Tory watched, paralyzed with fear, as he drew the knife from her throat. She screamed at herself to run, to take off, but her feet wouldn’t move. All her energy was concentrated on the knife Barber held. He shifted it in his palm. She had made a mistake, she realized. Instead of buying time, she had infuriated him enough that he was going to kill her now.
Gathering herself, she prepared to tear her arm out of his grasp. Just as he pulled her closer to him and raised the knife over his head, an animal growled in the woods. As the knife flashed down, a ball of gray fur launched itself at them, its lip raised in a snarl and its teeth showing white in the darkness. The cold steel of the knife sliced into her at the same time a gunshot echoed off the trees.
Holt drove through the black night, his eyes searching for the place they’d found the dog. Desperate urgency pounded through his veins. If he didn’t get there in time, another woman would be killed.
He spotted the tire marks on the shoulder of the road and swerved to the side, pulling the truck to a stop. As he got out of the car, one of the Eagle Ridge squad cars screamed past him, heading out to Tory’s house. It disappeared into the darkness as he turned to the forest. At least Tory wouldn’t be alone while he searched the woods.
The clearing Tory had described was easy to find, but there was no sign it had been disturbed. It stood deserted and silent, as quiet as the rest of the forest. The murderer could have heard him coming, Holt thought uneasily, and moved deeper into the woods. He could be standing silent behind a tree, waiting for Holt to leave.
But he didn’t feel the presence of anyone else in the forest. There were no vibrations of fear or terror or anger. There was no tension in the air. There was nothing but the trees, tall and majestic, guarding their secrets.
Holt took another step into the woods, then another. Shining his flashlight on the ground, he looked for signs of recent disturbance, footprints, scuff marks in the dirt. Nothing. Not a pine needle was out of place.
Suddenly he froze. Faintly, far in the distance, he thought he heard Tory’s voice calling his name. Holt, Holt, I need you. The words crept into his consciousness like a breeze caressing his hair, as insubstantial as a curl of smoke.
It was his imagination, he told himself firmly. Tory was safely in her house, guarded by Jack Williams. She had seen the murderer at this spot, and after the last murder he had to trust her vision. Or whatever the hell it was, he thought uneasily.
Help me. The words sprang unbidden into his mind, louder this time, more frantic. He heard fear in Tory’s voice, a fear that chilled him. It wouldn’t hurt to check with Williams, he thought as he walked toward his truck. If he knew Tory was fine, he could concentrate on his search of the woods.
As he reached the Blazer he heard her again. I love you. Whatever happens, I love you. The desperate finality of her words twisted his heart in his chest. Something was wrong. He knew it with an ice-cold certainty. He threw himself into the truck and twisted the key in the ignition, fear and panic beating a primitive rhythm in his veins. He had to get to her.
“I’m coming, Tory,” he muttered under his breath as the truck skidded onto the asphalt and leaped forward. His headlights cut through the darkness as he raced down the road. “Just hold on. I’m coming.”
He didn’t bother calling Jack Williams on the radio. He didn’t need to. He knew what he’d hear.
Tory was in trouble. He knew it as well as he knew his own name.
Her whispered I love you had ripped aside the shroud he’d wrapped around his emotions, bringing them painfully awake. In spite of his caution, in spite of his warnings to himself, he loved her. He didn’t have a choice. It was a part of him. But instead of joy, all he could feel was fear.
Her terror filled his mind and shriveled his soul, pulsating inside him like an evil black hole, swallowing everything that came close to it. He couldn’t think logically. It didn’t matter that he knew Tory would never go outside by herself or open the door to anyone. Something had happened, and she was in trouble. And a tiny voice at the back of his mind told him he might never get the chance to tell her he loved her.
He swerved into her driveway to see Jack Williams standing next to his truck, speaking into his radio. A fresh wave of fear swept over him. Leaping out of the car, he ran to where Williams stood.
“What?” he panted.
“She’s not in the house, sir.” Williams’s face was grim. “When I got here, the window was open, the front door was unlocked and the dog was lying on the floor looking kind of dazed.”
“Did you search the house?”
“From top to bottom. No sign of her.” Williams swallowed and looked away. “No sign of a struggle, either, except for the dog.”
Holt pushed past the deputy and headed for the woods at a dead run. Tory was in there. He knew it, just as he knew she needed his help. As he ran, he realized he knew where she was. She was in the clearing.
As he ran, a gray flash caught up with him. Spike’s short legs were a blur as he struggled to keep up. Holt forced himself to go faster.
I’m coming, Tory. I’m coming. The words filled his mind like a mantra as he ran. Hold on, sweetheart. I’ll be there in a moment.
He drew his gun as he approached the clearing. Two dark figures were silhouetted in the faint light, struggling. As the larger figure raised his hand, the knife he held glinted in the moonlight. Holt took careful aim and fired just as Spike launched himself at the figure holding the knife.
Tory stumbled forward as Spike attacked with a primitive growl. Holt reached her before she hit the ground and cradled her in his arms.
“Tory! Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
She nodded weakly. “I’m fine. Almost.”
Dark red blood covered the left side of her body. Rage and fear slammed into him with the force of a locomotive, making his head roar. “You’re hurt.” He was amazed at how calm he sounded.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she said, reaching out for him with her right hand. “You came. I called for you, and you came.”
He twined his fingers with hers and squeezed. “I heard you calling me, Tory. I knew you were in trouble.”
She smiled as she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the tree. “I knew you would,” she whispered.
“We need to get you to the hospital. How badly are you hurt?” he asked, afraid to hear the answer.
“It’s just my arm. I think if we can get a tourniquet on it, I’ll be fine until we get there.”
He eased her to the ground and tore a strip out of his shirt. Then he tied it around her arm, cursing himself when she winced. But the flow of blood seemed to slow as he watched her carefully.
“Let’s go,” he muttered, scooping her into his arms.
“Wait. I saw Spike go after him right after you shot him. You have to make sure he’s all right.”
“He can rot out here, as far as I’m concerned.”
“You don’t mean that, Holt. I know you don’t.”
“He almost
killed you. Do you think I care what happens to him?”
“I think you care about justice. And letting him bleed to death in the woods wouldn’t be justice.”
“It would be for him. Isn’t that what he did to three women?”
“That’s not the sheriff talking, Holt. That’s the man. I don’t want you to have anything else to feel guilty about when this is over.”
He looked at her arm and tightened his mouth, but said, “All right. I’ll have to put you down.”
“I’m fine, Holt. Just make sure Barber’s all right.”
His arm tightened around her. “It’s Barber?”
She nodded weakly. “I’ll tell you all about it. Just get Spike away from him.”
Holt stood up, battling the murderous rage that was building inside him. But he turned and headed toward where he’d seen Spike savaging Barber. He found the dog sitting next to Barber’s unconscious form. Blood oozed from a bullet wound in the man’s shoulder and from dozens of wounds that had been inflicted by Spike’s teeth.
Holt made sure Barber was still alive. He had a pulse, although it was thready. Glancing at him one last time, Holt bent down and framed the dog’s face with his hands. “He’ll survive, buddy. But you did a hell of a number on him. You’re a good dog, Spike.”
Spike wagged his tail, his murderous rage against Barber seemingly forgotten, and when Holt hurried to Tory, the dog followed him.
As Holt bent to pick her up, he heard someone crashing through the woods and saw the beam of a flashlight bouncing off the trees.
“Over here, Williams,” he called, and the next moment Jack Williams stepped into sight.
“Is she all right?” he asked, his worried gaze on Tory.
“She’s got a cut on her arm, but otherwise she says she’s okay.” He nodded to his right. “The murderer is over there. Her dog got hold of him.”
Williams walked over to Barber and stopped abruptly. “My God,” he said, a note of awe in his voice. “Remind me not to get on that mutt’s bad side.”
The Dark Side Of The Moon Page 23