Sacrifice of Passion (Deadly Legends)

by Melissa Bourbon Ramirez

  She plunged into the barn and saw Zach standing by the haystack in the corner, cradling a black bundle. He wore an enormous grin on his face.

  “Sheila’s okay!” he shouted, almost giddy. “Can you believe it?” He held the pig in his arms, lifting her slightly as Delaney came up to him.

  Delaney’s anxiety washed away. Zach and Sheila were together again. “Great!”

  Craning his head, Zach tried to look behind her. “Is he— Is my—” He stopped, growing flustered.

  She bent to crouch down in front of him. “Your what?”

  “Vic,” he finally said. “Is he coming?”

  She halted, alarms going off in her head. “He’s here, isn’t he?” she asked. Had Vic left already? Gone chasing after the chupacabra?

  Zach shook his head, looking past her again. “Pastor Locke said he was going to get you and Vic.”

  But—the pastor had told her that Vic was in the barn with Zach. Her body went cold inside. Locke had woken her up. Had put his hand on her. Had whispered her name…

  She knew that whisper. That high-pitched voice.

  Zach shifted, adjusting Sheila in his arms. The pig squealed.

  Delaney’s mind reeled, the blank spots in her memory becoming clear and lucid. Locke had been at her parents’ house for dinner that night, along with his nephews, Jasper and Chris. He’d helped her mother serve drinks. He’d handed her a glass of sweet tea.

  The drugs hadn’t been slipped into the water in her bedroom, after all.

  Her hand was unsteady as she forced herself to stroke the pig’s back. How could she not have seen it before? But the rapist’s voice was different—higher.

  Just like how Locke had sounded when he’d shaken her awake.

  Her gut wrenched, nausea swamping over her.

  It hadn’t been a stranger.

  Twelve years ago, Landon Locke had raped her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Delaney’s legs wobbled under her, a wave of dizziness taking hold. Landon Locke had raped her. Killed his own nephew. Attacked her yet again. But why?

  Oh, God. She wanted to run. Escape. Her gaze skittered around the barn. Where could she go? What could she do? Her gaze stopped on Zach. Noted how Sheila trembled in his arms. Or was it Zach’s arms that trembled?

  Delaney steeled her nerves. Running was not an option. She had to protect Zach from this monster. She’d die before she’d leave Vic’s son to this sicko’s mercy. “Buddy—” She looked up at Zach, trying to come up with a plan. A way to escape this barn. Alive. Where was Vic?

  Zach shifted his hold on Sheila and the pig squealed again. His face went pale, his lips quivered. His eyes brimmed.

  Delaney willed her voice to remain calm. “Where’d you find Sheila?”

  Zach’s gaze shifted to look beyond her.

  A voice came from behind. Delaney jumped as Locke said, “I brought the boy the pig.”

  Pastor Locke— No, not Pastor. That hypocritical bastard didn’t deserve the title of respect. He’d hidden behind a trusted role. Had ministered her parents and so many others under false pretenses. Had pretended to be a man of God when he was the exact opposite.

  Delaney stood up, backing in front of the boy as she turned to face Locke. Her heart beat like a tympani in her throat.

  “Where’s my—” Zach’s young voice broke on the beginnings of a sob. “Wh-where’s Vic?”

  Locke reached out and wrapped his hand around her arm. Her blood ran to ice. “I couldn’t reach him on his cell,” Locke said, directing words she knew were lies to Zach and keeping his eyes steady on her. “But don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

  I’ll take care of you. The eerily familiar words washed through her like an acid bath. “What did you say?” she whispered.

  He smiled. “Twelve years is a long time, but I’ve been waiting for you to come home. To come back to me.”

  The pig squealed. Delaney’s gaze darted to Zach, and she saw the piglet’s back leg hanging limply. She worked hard to keep her face impassive. She had to get Zach and the pig out of here. Oh, God… Think! Vic had to be out there somewhere. He would have gone to get Zach at the bus stop, and when he saw his son wasn’t there, he would have started back home. Maybe she could just wait Locke out. Keep him talking until Vic showed up.

  As she pulled her wrist from Locke’s grip, she backed up next to Zach and placed her arm around his shoulder. She looked back at Locke, shuddering with revulsion as his possessive gaze spiraled into her. “I didn’t come back for you,” she said, careful to keep her tone neutral.

  He shrugged, a knowing smile slipping onto his face. “Of course you did. To finish what we’d started all those years ago. And the offerings I’ve made will earn me my final reward. I’ve already sacrificed so much for you. My own father, God rest his soul, would be so proud of my conviction and devotion. And now, only two more to go.”

  She’d hadn’t wanted to believe it. The chupacabra. It was him. Acid churned in her stomach. Locke had mutilated those animals, had killed his own flesh and blood, out of some warped belief that he was sacrificing for her sake.

  But what did he mean, two more to go?

  Bile surged upward. She whipped her head around to look at Zach, then snapped her gaze back to Locke. “Don’t you dare lay a hand on him.”

  He laughed mirthlessly, the tenor of his voice rising. “If Vargas had kept his own hands off you, I might have been able to grant your request,” he said, “but that didn’t happen.” His gaze oozed over her. “Did it, Delaney?”

  She swallowed, edging Zach backward. No time to wait for Vic. El Rei and Bluebell were outside in the corral, still saddled. If she could get to the horses. Manage to get Zach and the pig on…

  She stalled, edging toward the barn door that emptied into the corral. “It was you. You raped me,” she accused, her voice a harsh whisper.

  Locke’s face turned a splotchy red. “I did not,” he said tersely. “We were meant for each other—you were my gift from God. I’d waited until you were a woman. What happened was a consummation—”

  She spit out a disbelieving laugh. “Of what?” She moved back another inch, edging herself in front of Zach. “You drugged me and raped me while I was unconscious.”

  “Enough!” he bellowed, and she jumped, clutching at the sharp pain in her ribs. Zach cried out behind her. Locke drew his hand out of his pocket, holding a thin, sharp tool.

  Delaney focused on it, her blood freezing in her veins. Beside her, a frightened, gurgling sound came from Zach. She reacted instantly. She grabbed the boy by his jacket, circled around Locke, and darted outside. She lifted the lever and pulled open the gate to the corral, shoving Zach toward the horses. “Go! Get on!” But her cry startled the horses, and Bluebell took off, galloping for the lowlands.

  She turned back just as Locke lunged at her. She dodged out of the way and kicked, her foot connecting hard with his wrist. He yelped and lost balance, crashing to the ground. The little tool he held flew from his hand.

  In a flash, Delaney raced toward El Rei, who was pawing the ground nervously, but standing still for Zach. He had one foot in the stirrup, but was struggling to zip Sheila into his jacket.

  “Hurry!” she urged, grasping him by the waist and hoisting him onto the gelding. He grabbed hold of the saddle horn as Locke let out a guttural cry behind her.

  She whipped her head around. Locke was charging toward them, his arms outstretched and reaching for her leg. Just like in her nightmare. In the dream she’d run through the trees, away from the monster. Toward safety. Vic.

  The searing pain in her ribs as she hiked up her leg to catch the stirrup paled in comparison to her nightmares suddenly coming to life. Gritting her teeth, she mounted the horse and fit her body behind Zach’s. He shoved the reins at her.

 
Jabbing El Rei’s belly for all she was worth, she yowled, propelling the horse into motion. But Locke grabbed hold of her boot. His weight pulled on her, dragging her back, like a winch on a truck.

  “Ha-ya! Git!” she yelled, digging her other boot heel into the horse again and yanking on the reins. Willing El Rei to kick the bastard in the head. But Locke held onto her ankle, her boot twisting in his grip. She jerked and kicked. She had to get Zach to Vic where he’d be safe.

  El Rei charged forward, like a barrel racer out of the gate. Zach gave a frightened cry. Delaney clung like a burr, clicking her tongue and whooping at the horse to urge it forward.

  Locke lost his grip. The weight on her leg lifted and she managed to right herself on the saddle as the mustang leapt forward and started to gallop. El Rei’s hooves ate up the rain-soaked land until there was nothing but grass and mud clods flying behind them. She aimed for the road.

  Vic must be out there, searching for Zach. She’d find his truck and they’d all be safe. She just had to get to the road.

  Thunder clapped in the distance, the dark clouds moving ominously overhead. As if on cue. Another roar from the sky. But it sounded different this time. A low whine. Mechanical.

  She urged the horse to run faster. The sound rattled through the air again, and her blood ran cold. Not thunder. A truck. Barreling up behind them. Cutting the horse off from the road. She yanked the reins to the right and headed toward the woods.

  Vic. She had to reach Vic.

  …

  Vic drove the truck hard, arriving back at Tierra del Oro in less than eight minutes. Eight long, torturous minutes. The bus driver had to be wrong. Maybe Zach had walked home and Vic had missed seeing him in his hurry to get to the bus stop.

  He tore into the house, stopping short when he saw Esperanza sprawled on the floor by the bay window. Panic tore through him. She was alive, but moving slowly, her fingers gingerly touching the back of her head, a trickle of blood staining her wiry hair.

  His heart hammered uncontrollably as he raced to her, gripped her arm, and leveraged her up. “What happened?”

  She stared vacantly at him, the whites of her eyes glowing. “Chupacabra. He wath here. I did not thee him, pero el chupacabra thook Delaney. And I think your thon.”

  His heart seized in agony. Zach was gone. And Delaney. He’d failed as a father, and now the woman he loved had been snatched from him, too. Once again, he hadn’t been there for her. Or his son.

  Vic shoved the curandera’s fallen cane into her hand and took off, searching the house. Every nook and cranny. But the house was empty, with no sign of Zach. No backpack. No evidence that he’d been home.

  And no sign of Delaney.

  No! Vic refused to believe it. He ran outside to the back of the house. Maybe Zach and Delaney were in the corral, or the barn, or in Sheila’s outdoor pen…

  His cell phone rang, startling him. He dug it out, praying to God it was Zach on the other end. “Son?”

  Derek Braido answered. “I’m sorry, Vic. No one’s seen him. But I’m gathering a search party.”

  Vic stopped, staring at the empty corral. The gate was wide open. El Rei and Bluebell were gone. He gripped the corral fence with white-knuckled fingers. “What the—”

  Another thread of hope slipped away. Zach had vanished. Vic filled Braido in on the man at the bus stop as he headed back to the house.

  “At least that’s something,” Braido said when Vic had finished. “I’ll see if I can get an ID. And Vic—I’ve been thinking about the dead animals and Jasper.”

  And the steer Vic had buried, but never reported. He’d kept that quiet in order to protect Delaney. Had that been a mistake? Maybe there would have been a clue left behind. Some evidence that would have pointed the deputy to the chupacabra. “And?”

  Braido paused, the silence on the phone line suffocating. “It was the pastor who enlightened me on redemption and sacrificial acts—”

  The pastor. Vic scoffed. Unless Landon Locke could wrangle a miracle from God, he wouldn’t do him a lick of good right now. “My son and Delaney are both missing.” Vic was barely keeping it together. Barely steady.

  “Delaney?”

  “She was here at my house, with the curandera. Someone knocked out Esperanza and took Delaney and Zach.” He turned back around and fixated on the empty corral again. “I think they’re on horseback.”

  “We’ll do our best, but—” Braido took an audible breath. “With Delaney missing too… If we can figure out a motive, we’d know where to look. Any ideas?”

  Vic’s mind refused to work. He didn’t give a damn about motive, he wanted to know who the bastard was who’d taken his family!

  “If the killings of the livestock and Jasper were sacrifices to gain redemption,” Braido went on maddeningly, “we could assume there was a sin—an old crime—the kidnapper once committed. Something he’s seeking absolution for. I’ve got one of my men looking through old crime reports for anything that sticks out, but…”

  Vic’s head was about to explode. He knew exactly what the crime was, and there wouldn’t be any damn report. He couldn’t keep Delaney’s secret any longer. His son was missing. She’d understand. They could trust Derek. “Delaney West was raped twelve years ago. That’s the sin being atoned for.”

  There was dead silence on the other end of the line as Vic swiftly related the facts he knew.

  “You should have told me. She should have reported it,” Braido said, his voice wound tight.

  No shit. Vic’s life was suddenly filled with should haves. “Let me know what you find,” he said before hanging up, then ran the rest of the way to the house.

  He helped Esperanza into his truck, unwilling to leave her behind. Then fired it up and tore down the gravel drive, headed back to the bus stop—the last place Zach had been seen. He had to do something. Go somewhere. Everything was slipping away. He felt empty, just like the sacrificial animals.

  Who was it? Who had raped Delaney?

  Esperanza had sold Jasper the sleeping concoction. Whoever had stolen the draught had to be a local. Someone who knew Jasper. Someone connected to San Julio. He thought again of the dinner Laney’s folks had hosted that fateful night. Jasper, Chris, Landon Locke, Alan Maldano, and James McDuff had all been there.

  Delaney had been drugged that night. And sharing a meal was the perfect place to accomplish that. It had to have been one of those men.

  Vic had questioned Alan and dismissed him already. McDuff’s age and accent would have given him away. Jasper was dead.

  He yanked phone out of his pocket and punched in numbers, steering with one hand. “How the hell did the attacker get into the cabin the night Delaney was attacked?” he shouted at Red West when the man answered.

  “Uh, there was no break in. He came in through the door. But I’d locked it myself. I swear,” Red said. “I even installed a new double lock. Chris down at Grit’s Hardware cut me keys that day.”

  Vic’s stomach roiled. Why hadn’t he thrown away his blinders and thought this through yesterday? Chris Locke. Shit. Or could Landon Locke be the chupacabra? The rapist? With just two suspects, it should be easy to find the right one. But why? Had one of the Lockes felt the same as Alan? Loved Delaney from afar and gone after what he’d wanted?

  “You know if Chris is out at the Locke ranch today?”

  “No, he’s helping his uncle in town. Why?” Red’s voice held tension, but Vic had no time to lose. He severed the connection, then jerked the wheel to the right, pointing the truck to the heart of town.

  On the truck’s bench seat, Esperanza turned to him. “¿Donde vamoth a ir?”

  He set his mouth in a grim line and started to pray. “We’re going to church.”

  …

  Vic had hit seventy-five in a thirty-five mile zone and blasted
through four stop signs, but in three minutes he was standing in the San Julio church parking lot. Chris Locke’s shirt was gathered in his fist, fear and fury congealing in his throat until he could hardly breathe.

  “Where is he?” Vic demanded. “Where’s your goddamn uncle? I want to talk to both of you.”

  Chris’s eyes were wide. Terror-stricken. “He’s been gone all day, Vic. Why?”

  “I’m looking for my son.”

  “I-I don’t know where Zach is.” Chris held up his hands as if he were being arrested. “I swear, Vic. I don’t know nothing.”

  Vic released him with a shove and backed up. His temples throbbed; heat crawled relentlessly up his neck. “Twelve years ago, you and Jasper and your uncle had dinner at the West’s.”

  Chris looked puzzled. “If you say so.”

  “Delaney says so,” Vic snapped. “The next day, she left town.”

  “Okay… Um…”

  Vic advanced on Chris again, his rage getting the better of him. “Something happened that night. Something bad. And I want to know which one of you is responsible.”

  Chris balked, sputtering uncontrollably. “Okay, yeah, I remember that night.” His knees shook and kept rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans. “Delaney went to bed early, I think. And my uncle drove us home.”

  “Did you stay there?”

  Chris nodded vigorously. “I watched a monster truck rally on TV—”

  “And Jasper?”

  Chris’s shoulders jerked as they rose in a despondent shrug. “He was with me. But my uncle was gone all night. He came back in the morning, higher than a kite, like he was on meth or something. Not that he’d ever do drugs—that’s against the Lord.” He hesitated, retreating a step.

  Vic spun around, panic seeping into every one of his cells. If he believed Chris—and he reluctantly found he did—it meant… Christ. It meant that Landon Locke was the chupacabra.

  His head reeled. Now what? He couldn’t stand around and do nothing. As he ran back to his truck, he called Derek. “The chupacabra is Landon Locke,” he said, then hung up before Braido got a word out, and pointed the truck toward the main road.