Hidden Fire

by Jo Davis

  He didn’t say he loved her, but he didn’t have to.

  She felt his love all the same.

  Grace didn’t have court for the rest of the week, so she made an executive decision—she called Alice and told her she wouldn’t be in until Monday. The official story was she’d decided to work from home. She and Julian knew the truth.

  For one thing, she couldn’t bear to be near her office or the parking garage after what she’d overheard yesterday. Her fear was too raw, and Julian’s solution—to hang out and be her protective shadow—wasn’t feasible. Too many gossip mongers to bring Daddy running, getting into her biz. And Daddy certainly didn’t need the stress of learning what was going on.

  No, Julian was off duty and they were going to spend the day together, snooping. The recent deaths were weighing on him, and after some cajoling and outright arguing with his detective friend, he’d wheedled out of the guy the two locations where the bodies had been found. The areas were no longer roped off, but Ford didn’t understand why he’d want to walk around out there. Neither did she.

  This evening, to get his mind off killers and victims, she’d made plans for them to eat at a quiet Italian place she’d been to before. And if she had to ravage his yummy body all night long in order to keep him from fretting? Well, a girl must suffer.

  After a quick breakfast of cereal, followed by a steamy shower together, they dressed in jeans and casual shirts. Grace pulled her hair back into a ponytail, mainly to keep it out of her face, but this incited her playful lover to pull and bat it around constantly.

  “Dang it, stop that,” she groused as they walked to his car.

  “Why? I like messing with you.” His boyish grin melted her into a puddle.

  “I’ll mess with you,” she muttered, annoyance gone.

  “Promises, promises.”

  “You’re insatiable.”

  “And you can’t get enough of me,” he boasted.

  At least his ego was alive and healthy. Once they were on their way, she took the opportunity to examine the cut on his bicep. She was glad to see it closed and healing, along with the smaller one on his chest hidden by his shirt. She hoped they wouldn’t make scars. Once this was over, she wanted no reminders of how close she’d come to losing him.

  Taking the county roads, he drove them to a spot a couple of miles below Cheatham Dam. Where tire tracks were torn in the earth, he pulled onto the shoulder. “The way Shane described the area, this must be it. Several sets of tracks made by their vehicles, all the way to the bank.”

  “Honey, I’m with Ford. I don’t see what you hope to—”

  But he was already out, a man on a mission. Drawn by some invisible force she couldn’t comprehend. It was beyond macabre, scary as hell, being here. She wanted to throw him into the car and peel out, before they met the same end as the stupid couple in the slasher movies who always bought it because they were poking around in monster land like two dimwits.

  Hurrying to his side, she took his hand, glancing around at the trees, searching for the slavering bogeyman. If something horrible befell them out here, nobody would ever know. Until it was too late.

  “There,” he said, pointing.

  Indeed, the excavation site could not be missed. However, there was nothing much to see. The police had left no traces behind to tell the tale of what had taken place here, save for the scars on the earth. The grave was a simple hole, square-shaped and not very big, which was really gruesome; she didn’t want to think about what the killer did to make a body fit into such a small space.

  “Come on, Julian, there’s nothing to see.”

  She looked over at him, hoping for agreement. Instead, he was staring at the hole, fists clenched, mouth drawn into a grim line. His eyes were strangely flat, his breathing harsh.

  “Make the hole three by three,” he said hoarsely.

  “What? You’re scaring me!” Stepping in front of him, she blocked his view of the grave and cupped his face. “What are you talking about?”

  His gaze lifted to hers, filled with horror. “That day, in Derek’s room, when I was coming around, I was trying to clear my vision, scanning the room for my clothes. I heard someone say, ‘Make the hole three by three.’ I was frantic to get away.”

  She felt like she’d been punched. “Are you sure? It’s understandable with all of this going on, the stress, perhaps you think that’s what you heard.”

  “No.” He glanced past her at the ground. “I’ve been trying to remember all morning. Something about holes. I know what I heard, and it was real. Out of context, the phrase didn’t make sense and I’d dismissed it, until now.”

  Desperate as she was to keep him from more pain, he wasn’t conjuring this. And if one believed what he said, and she did, as a teenager he’d barely escaped a hideous death.

  “You need to call Ford. While we’re making tracks out of here,” she emphasized with a shudder. “I’ll drive. You call.”

  They slid into his car and he handed over his keys, then flipped open his cell phone. She gladly left the creepy place in her dust, and what’s more, she had no intention of visiting the second site. One was more than enough.

  Ford was away from his desk, so Julian reached him on his cell, relating what he’d remembered. “So, what do you say? Is it enough for a warrant, with the other stuff?”

  They batted conversation back and forth, but she got the gist before he hung up. “No dice?”

  “He said it’s another good thread to tie the case together, but still not enough to search their place. Dammit!” He pounded the dashboard and fell silent for a moment. “He did say the San Antonio police got permission from the owners of the Vineses’ old estate to conduct a search, and they’ll start today. Everyone is being cooperative.”

  “That’s good.” She wanted to be reassuring. “We’ll keep our fingers crossed for them to find something solid.”

  Ignoring his directive to head to the other site, she drove them to nearby Clarksville, swinging out to Dunbar Cave State Park northeast of town, just for the hell of it, and pulled into the visitors’ parking lot.

  “Have you ever been here?” she asked.

  “No, but I’ve always meant to come by.” He shrugged. “One of those points of interest I’ve never gotten around to, I guess.”

  “Want to see the cave? We can’t hike through it because you have to make a reservation, but it’s really cool to see up close.”

  “Sure, why not?”

  Happy to have found a way to distract him for a bit longer, she got out and led the way, pointing out the visitors’ center and the lake. “The mouth of the cave is farther than it seems, down that trail a ways. They say in the old days the locals used to hold dances and other events down there.”

  “Yeah? What else do they say?”

  He grinned, and she knew he was humoring her. Fine by her, as long as he relaxed. “Hmm, let’s see. It’s closed from November to the middle of March because of all the bats in there sleeping. Or whatever bats do.”

  Throwing his arm around her, he laughed and kissed her head. “Hibernating, querida.”

  “Whatever. Jeff Corwin, I’m not.”

  He seemed to find that really funny, but she didn’t care if it was at her expense. This was fun. Who didn’t like caves?

  A few minutes later, they arrived at the huge mouth of the cave, and Julian whistled. “Wow, this is amazing. I can see the lure, why people are fascinated by them. You’re looking at millions of years of history. Who knows what ancient people once lived down in there?”

  “You have caves in San Antonio, right?”

  “Oh, sure. Our most impressive one is Cascade Caverns, with the hundred-foot waterfall inside, but we have several other small ones. . . .”

  Grace paused in her study of an interesting formation to see why he’d trailed off. The man looked like someone had dropped an anvil on his head. His lips were parted, but they barely moved as he spoke.

  “Oh, holy God. It cannot be tha
t fucking simple. It can’t.”

  “What can’t?” Dread returned, full force, banishing the easy humor they’d managed to find.

  As if in a trance, he walked slowly to the bars that blocked the entrance to the tunnel used for guided hikes, and wrapped his fingers around the metal. “These keep people out. They can also keep them in.”

  Cold seeped into her bones. “What do you mean?” But, God help them, she was afraid she knew.

  “In San Antonio, the Vines estate has a cave entrance on the property,” he said quietly. “All of the locals, especially us kids, were strictly forbidden from going down there. One year, they put up a gate a lot like this one, to avoid a lawsuit from somebody getting hurt, they said. Nobody questioned it, and why would they?” He turned to face her, expression haunted.

  “Does their place here have a cave entrance?”

  He nodded. “At the back of the property. I know only because we’ve had to take the boat out on a couple of water rescues in that area and the mouth overlooks the Cumberland. There are no bars across it, just some No Trespassing signs along the bank almost obscured by the brush.”

  “Bars would be too noticeable to the public.”

  “Maybe, but who would care?” Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he hit speed dial. “I do have a hunch about one thing. Those San Antonio cops searching the grounds? They’re looking in the wrong place.”

  Brett huddled in the gloom, rocking.

  They’d come for him again soon. Do unspeakable things to him, torture him with their instruments, try to get him to break.

  He’d figured out their method. Once you broke, you were toast. The screamers were torn limb from limb. He knew because he’d heard. He’d been introduced to the rock chamber stained with rivers of inky blood, felt their ghosts hovering, filled with despair.

  So he’d fought like a wild thing.

  Surprise, assholes.

  It had taken all three of them to subdue him, and even then they’d resorted to the needle. He was proud of that. Right now, fighting was all he had to keep him holding on.

  He was alone, save for his faith. Stripped to nothing except what made him human, what separated him from those animals. He was bent, but he would not break.

  He would escape from this hell under the earth. He only had to bide his time.

  And wait.

  17

  “Have you gotten my damned messages? Call me.” Julian snapped his phone shut and slumped on the sofa, cursing in frustration. “Where the hell can Ford be? Was he abducted by aliens?”

  “Give the man a break, honey. His plate is full at the moment, and it’s been only a few hours. I’m sure he’ll get back to you the minute he has a chance.”

  Julian took a calming breath. “You’re right. It’s just that once I get my teeth into something, not knowing the outcome drives me up the wall. This is one reason why I wouldn’t have made a good cop—everything moves too fricking slow.”

  Grace propped her feet on the coffee table and studied him in amusement. “You’d break a dozen rules on a daily basis. Not unlike now, I’m guessing.”

  “I only break one or two. On a good day.” He had to get a grip or he was going to drive Grace loony tunes along with him. “All right, this is ridiculous. Let’s check out the Italian restaurant you told me about.”

  “Sounds good. Anything’s better than sitting here watching cable specials on the end of the world.” She stood, stretching.

  “And maybe by the time we’re done eating, Shane will have given us the good news that our local sickos have been thrown in jail.”

  “I’ll lift a toast to that,” she said with enthusiasm.

  Standing, he glanced down at his T-shirt and jeans. “Are we okay dressed casual?”

  “We’re fine. It’s not fancy.”

  “Then after you, bella.”

  Julian took over the driving again, leaving his cell phone handy for Grace to answer if Shane called. God knew he was trying to put this entire sordid mess out of his head for the evening, but his gut churned. Staring at the bars over the entrance to Dunbar Cave had been a revelation of biblical proportions. The caves were the connecting thread between past and present, the invisible spiderweb that had been brushing his cheek for days.

  Sure, the tie could be a coincidence.

  But sometimes a person knows, deep down. When all the links fall into place and there’s the unmistakable click, and every nerve ending sings. Then it becomes a waiting game to hear the good guys won, peace and security restored.

  Except for the victims and their families.

  Okay, Jules, you’ve done what you could. The cops will do the rest. With a mighty effort, he shoved aside the helpless frustration and concentrated on spending the evening with Grace.

  “I made an offer on the land,” he said, and pride swelled inside him.

  Her reply was soft. “I’m proud of you. You’re going after something you want, making it happen. That must feel awesome.”

  “Yes, it certainly does. What would make it even more special is having somebody to share it with.” He glanced at her, but couldn’t make out her expression in the darkness.

  “You have me.”

  “Do I?”

  She fell silent and thankfully, they’d arrived. He pulled into a parking spot, shut off the engine, not making a move to get out. Neither did she.

  “What am I to you, bella? Is it wishful thinking on my part to believe your feelings run deeper than just a friend?”

  “That’s not a bad thing to be,” she countered, her tone a little trapped.

  “No, it isn’t.” Scooting around to face her, he cupped her cheek. “But I want more. I don’t need a promise of forever right now, but I do need hope. I’ve told you how I feel and I’ll say it again—I love you, baby.”

  “Julian—”

  “I love you,” he repeated. “How do you feel about me? What is it you want? Tell me the truth, Grace.”

  “No, I . . .” Shaking her head, she made a strangled noise. “I don’t know what I want.”

  “Even now?” He swore he felt his chest crack. Split open, torn asunder. Again, he’d pushed, unable to leave well enough alone. This time, perhaps too far.

  “What happened to giving us room to progress naturally? What’s the rush?”

  If he wasn’t so fucking sad, he would’ve laughed. He, unrepentant onetime ladies’ man, had fallen for a commitment phobe. Cosmic justice served cold.

  “None, Grace. None at all. Let’s eat, huh? I’m starved.”

  He wasn’t, really. Not anymore. But he was determined to salvage as much of their evening as possible. No matter how badly he longed to hide out in his own place tonight and keep company with his Patrón, he wouldn’t leave Grace alone. Even if he suggested that she stay with Kat and Six-Pack, she’d refuse. After overhearing Warren’s threat, she’d not risk her pregnant sister’s safety.

  An untenable situation, being stuck in the same living space with a woman who didn’t love him. He wished to God he’d never given her the ammunition to rip out his guts.

  Their meal alternated between awkward silences and stilted conversation. A glass of wine didn’t help, but three might, if he wasn’t driving. But then he might say or do something even more incredibly stupid, reinforcing her low opinion of him as a keeper.

  “Grace, I apologize for pushing,” he said quietly.

  “You feel used, and I guess I can see how. You don’t trust my feelings for you, so what do we have?”

  “No, you don’t trust yourself.” This seemed to startle her, and he gave her a sad smile. “You almost have it all. What’s missing? I wonder.”

  “That’s quite an analysis. What makes you so sure I’m missing anything in my life?”

  “Because when I look at you, I see me . . . before I met the woman who made me believe, trust, and appreciate my gifts.”

  There was no mistaking the wetness in her pretty eyes. “How could I have done all of that? I’ve led you o
n a chase, bucked you at every turn. Hurt you,” she whispered.

  “Don’t you see? Before I met you, I had no direction, always searching for the next best thing to make myself happy. Another woman, more booze, a fast car. And then I met you, so beautiful and unattainable.” Reaching across the table, he clasped her hand. “You stopped me in my tracks, challenged me. And gradually I understood you were for real. You were the woman for me, no one else. I know how you feel; it’s easier to cling to the safety of what you know than to jump without a parachute. But I’m glad I let go. For you.”

  His message was clear. Will you let go for me?

  He didn’t know how to put himself out there any more, to express himself any better. She looked down at their joined hands, then away, as he held his breath. Praying she’d say anything except they were nothing more than friends with benefits. If he was more to her, he’d wait forever if need be.

  Staring at his plate, he was pretending fascination with twirling his spaghetti when her question took him off guard.

  “When the danger is over, are you . . . will you stay? With me?”

  He froze, his brain momentarily shorting out. Live with Grace? There was nothing he wanted more. But he remembered his original vow—when she declared her undying love, and not a second sooner. Maybe, to Grace, her invitation was tantamount to stating her feelings.

  “Are you asking me to move in with you?” he asked carefully.

  “Yes, I suppose I am.” Biting her lip, she fidgeted with her napkin.

  “Why, Grace?” Please, tell me.

  “I love spending my days and nights with you. I value your companionship. Those are good reasons.” She paused. “Will you?”

  Disappointment bubbled, hot and unrelenting. He wanted the words so badly; he was dying inside. Stupid pride wouldn’t let him leap at her offer. But she’d made a positive move, and he wasn’t about to shut her down, either. “I’ll think about it, querida. All right?”