by Gayle Wilson
It was as if things she had once known and then forgotten were slowly coming back. The memories were clouded by the passage of time or by her own efforts to forget them, but they were beginning to seep back into her brain. And she didn’t want them there.
“You mean Sabina?”
Ethan seemed puzzled by her vehemence. She could no more explain her hostility to the old woman than she could her certainty that she should have recognized the language Sabina had spoken to her niece.
“Nothing she told us was true. What’s the point in giving her another opportunity to lie?”
Before she completed the sentence, a black car turned off the deserted two-lane and started down the long driveway to the house. As if mesmerized, they watched its approach.
It was a late-model town car, its dark paint mirrorlike in the twilight. Both the size and quality seemed almost out of place in this rustic setting.
Whether it was her sudden realization of how out of place it was or whether the abilities that had failed her so many times since she’d come to Washington had finally returned, she knew, with as much surety as she had ever known anything in her entire life, that whoever was in that car meant them harm. Having slowed to make the turn into the driveway, the automobile was again gathering speed. A plume of dust followed as it barreled recklessly down the dirt track.
“We have to get out of here,” she said.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
The tinted window on the passenger side of the Lincoln began to lower.
“That car. There’s someone—”
Her warning was cut off as Ethan pulled her down. He threw his body over hers, pressing her ribs into the hard console between them.
Her automatic yelp of surprise was buried under the hail of bullets that slammed into the body of the M-Class, shattering windows. Small, round pellets of the broken safety glass rained down over her.
“Stay put,” Ethan ordered, turning the key he’d already inserted in the ignition.
The engine roared to life. He floored the accelerator, sending the SUV off the shoulder and back onto the drive. The back tires fishtailed as they encountered its mix of dirt and loose chert.
As Ethan fought to regain control of the Mercedes, she raised her head enough to see out the back window. The car that had sped by seconds before was coming out of a deep turn that would bring it back around.
Although the driver’s side window was facing her, it was too darkly tinted to even venture a guess as to how many people were in the vehicle, much less attempt identification of any of them. She glanced back toward the front windshield in time to see Ethan wrestle the M-Class into alignment with the drive.
Despite the skid, he had apparently never taken his foot off the gas. The big SUV seemed to leap forward, headed toward the blacktop at the end of the drive. When Raine looked out the back window again, she saw that at least the town car wasn’t closing the gap between them.
Ethan hardly slowed when he reached the turn, the vehicle making its entrance onto the highway on two wheels. The Mercedes regained its footing instantly and then surged forward again. As it did, a squeal of tires came from behind them as their pursuers attempted the same maneuver.
“Fasten your seat belt,” Ethan ordered without looking at her.
“Are you going to try to outrun them?” she asked as she pulled the shoulder strap across her body and slipped the buckle into the lock.
“Unless you’ve got something comparable to whatever they just used. An assault rifle, maybe.”
She leaned across the console, reaching for the buckle of his belt as he attempted to pull the strap across his chest with one hand. She slipped it into the slot, as he raised his eyes to the rearview mirror. Whatever he saw caused his lips to tighten.
“Can you outrun them?” she asked.
“We’re about to find out.”
The winding two-lane that had appeared so scenic on their journey to the plantation now seemed like something on the European racing circuit. Ethan’s total concentration was required for navigating the SUV through its hairpin turns.
Only on the few straightaways did either of them dare look back, he by employing the rearview mirror and she by glancing over her shoulder. Although the black car didn’t appear to be gaining, neither were they able to increase the distance between them. And whoever was driving didn’t seem inclined to give up the chase.
“Here.”
She turned to find Ethan, his eyes still on the curving road, holding his phone out to her. She took it quickly, allowing him to return both hands to the wheel.
“Cabot?”
“There isn’t time. Dial 911. Let’s see if we can get the locals to make them back off.”
Considering the damage the semiautomatic had done to the SUV, they wouldn’t have any trouble convincing the police of the threat. And she doubted that whoever was in the town car would want to explain to the cops.
As she dialed, Ethan told her as much about their location as he could. She relayed it to the dispatcher, who sounded incredibly blasé as she took the information down. Maybe the crime rate around here was higher than she’d imagined, Raine decided as she pressed the off button on the cell.
Unable to resist, she glanced back again. The black car was closer than it had been before. With a higher center of gravity to worry about, Ethan was having to ease the SUV through the curves more carefully than the other driver.
“Hold on.”
Despite Ethan’s warning, she was thrown against the door as he put the M-Class into another of those hairpin turns. As the road began to straighten, from somewhere in the distance came the wail of a siren.
“That was quick,” Ethan said.
She glanced back at the town car, which was just coming out of the curve. Either they hadn’t yet heard the sound of the approaching police cruiser or they hadn’t realized its significance. She continued to watch, expecting at any moment to see the driver execute another of the skidding turnarounds he’d made back at the plantation.
“Son of a bitch.”
Ethan’s expletive was soft, but so obviously heartfelt that it pulled her eyes back to the front windshield. At the end of the straightaway, two police cars had been pulled up nose-to-nose, so that they blocked both lanes of the county road. Judging by their color and markings, the cars were local law enforcement and not state.
Raine’s first thought was that they’d certainly gotten the roadblock quickly organized. Then, with the sudden realization of how impossible the timing of it was, she understood why Ethan wasn’t slowing. He had obviously come to that same conclusion before she had.
“Hold on,” he ordered again.
She put her hands on either side of the seat, trying to brace herself. Her eyes considered the terrain on both sides of the narrow two-lane the cops had blocked.
As she did, she realized that whoever had set this up knew exactly what they were doing. Even in the dim light of dusk, she could see the ditch that ran along the right-hand side of the road. A stand of pines guarded the left. And they were approaching both of them far too fast.
“Ethan.”
She only had time to say his name before the SUV veered off the pavement to the left, seemingly headed toward the first stand of trees. It felt as if they’d become airborne as they jolted over the shoulder and then plowed onto the grassy verge. Raine fought the urge to close her eyes as Ethan guided the car around the trunk of one of the pines.
On some level she was aware that the cops who’d set up the barricade were shouting. She couldn’t tell if the words, unintelligible at this distance, were directed at them or at one another.
Her attention was so tightly focused on the trees Ethan was trying to maneuver between that she didn’t have room in her head right now for any other consideration. Ethan’s hands shifted on the wheel as he struggled to guide the Mercedes around the pines, which appeared in front of their headlights with the speed and regularity of targets on some incredibl
y challenging video game.
Then, like a miracle, just ahead of them was a narrow opening between two of the trees. Although it would be close, the gap seemed wide enough to allow them to shoot through and get back up onto the highway at a point past the police cruisers. Only a couple more of the pines to steer around—
There was no way Ethan could have foreseen what the roadside vegetation, thickly overgrown with the spring rains, was hiding. The right wheel of the SUV jolted into the ditch that had been camouflaged by the tall grass.
With the speed at which they had been traveling, the vehicle didn’t come to a stop. The sudden loss of traction was enough to turn it, sending it sideways through the trees around which Ethan had, up until now, been successfully navigating.
He struggled to turn the wheel into the skid, trying to regain control. Instead, Raine watched in horror as one of the trees grew larger and larger in the frame of her shattered window.
There was no time to brace herself before the passenger side of the Mercedes slammed into the massive trunk, instantly throwing her world into an encompassing darkness.
Chapter Nineteen
“Time to wake up.”
The first thing Raine became aware of was pain. A dull throbbing in her head, which seemed to correspond to the beating of her heart. It took a moment to decide it was bearable. Another to know it wasn’t life threatening.
Whoever had spoken—and she wasn’t certain if it had been a man or a woman—put a hand under her elbow, applying an upward pressure. Too disoriented to think about resisting and only with that help, she managed to get to her feet, an effort that caused the ache in her head to intensify.
During the awkward process she had discovered that her wrists had been tied together behind her back. Whatever material they were bound with bit into her flesh so tightly that her fingers had gone numb.
Pressure against the movement of her lashes and the solidness of the darkness that surrounded her verified that she had also been blindfolded. She swallowed the bile that climbed into her throat, trying desperately to hold on to her flagging courage. Like the idea that James Marguery might be alive, having her eyes covered terrified her to an extent that seemed disproportionate to the act.
The most important thing was that she was still alive, she told herself. And right now, that seemed cause for celebration.
Despite her attempt to focus on the positive, she knew her survival might be short-lived. They had already tried to get rid of her once by getting her out onto the ledge at the hotel. Twice, she amended, remembering that rain of bullets. She couldn’t imagine what had prevented them from completing the job now that she was totally in their control.
Staggering slightly, either from the effects of the blow to her head or from the stiffness that had resulted from the awkward position she’d been lying in, she could do little but follow the guidance of the hand on her arm. As she did, she tried to gain some control over her fear by concentrating on her surroundings.
There was no noise but the sound of their footsteps, echoing off wooden floors. Which meant that they were no longer outside, she realized belatedly.
At the same time she became aware of the same pervasive smells that had surrounded her this afternoon. Mold. Decay. Dust. The distinctive aromas of an old house, badly in need of care.
Myrtlewood.
Terror welled up in her chest. She made herself take a calming breath and then another, until she could once more establish the familiar pattern of breathing.
Just as she was beginning to overcome that blind panic, the toe of her shoe caught on something, sending her stumbling forward. She was prevented from falling only by the hand that had tightened around her arm.
As soon as she recovered her balance, she realized that the surface underfoot was softer now and their footsteps no longer echoed. Had she tripped over the ancient rug that centered the main hall, its colors obliterated by age and dirt? If so, that meant her guide was taking her to see the old woman. Marguery’s widow.
Except if Marguery wasn’t dead—
Her guide came to an abrupt halt. There was a slight creak directly in front of her. She tried to remember if the hinges of the parlor door had made that noise this afternoon when Sabina’s niece had escorted them through it.
Before she could decide, the grip around her arm tightened, urging her forward again. Despite her attempts to orient herself, she didn’t know for sure where she was or who might be in the room into which she was being led. No way to know if she was again about to be taken to some dangerous height and deserted.
“In the chair, if you please.”
There was no mistaking the arrogant tone of command. It had haunted her nightmares for decades. Dreams she could never remember but which left her drenched with sweat and trembling.
Hearing it now, her blood froze. Then her heart began to pound, sending it racing through her veins again, driven by an adrenaline rush so powerful it made her dizzy.
Trying to control the flood of memory James Marguery’s voice evoked, she had allowed herself to be drawn farther into the room. After a few feet she was roughly pushed down into a straight-back wooden chair.
“It’s so good to see you again, my dear.”
She couldn’t have answered him if her life depended on it. Maybe it did, she admitted, but her throat was too constricted to speak, aching with tears she refused to let him see her shed.
“Surely it’s been too long to hold a grudge,” Marguery prompted when she didn’t respond.
The old woman cackled, her laughter another sound Raine now remembered. Like nails dragged across a chalk-board, it set every nerve on edge.
She licked dry lips, determined not to give in to her terror. After all, she was no longer five years old and afraid of the dark.
Or of bogymen. No matter how real they were.
“Where’s Ethan?” The silence that followed her question frightened her almost as much as the rest.
They want you to think the worst, she told herself. They’re deliberately trying to frighten you. She wondered if they had any idea how well they were succeeding.
“Mr. Snow is enjoying our hospitality in another location. He won’t disturb us, I promise you.”
The last sentence had been touched with amusement. She examined the words of the first, trying to decide if she dared trust that was true.
Of course, she had never before been able to depend on anything he or Sabina told her. And if she couldn’t believe Marguery, there was only one way to determine if Ethan was alive.
She closed her mind to everything in the room, reaching beyond it. Probing an unknown darkness. Searching it. After years spent denying her gift, she called on every shred of her ability.
Only after she had almost given up hope did she find what she was looking for. Somewhere, not far from here, she could sense him. Ethan was alive, but she knew from what she felt that something was wrong. Had he been injured in the accident?
There was nothing she could do to help, even if he were, and so she closed her mind, blocking out that concern. Worrying about Ethan would only weaken her. She knew she would need all her strength to deal with the two people before her.
Making the most difficult decision of her life, she deliberately broke the connection to Ethan. It was enough to know he was alive. It had to be enough.
She needed to concentrate on the man in this room. A man who was supposed to have died twenty-five years ago.
“Satisfied?”
She ignored Sabina’s mocking question. “What do you want?”
They had always wanted something. And she had always given them whatever they demanded.
She had been a child then, unable to resist. She was a child no longer.
“As you can imagine, Raine, you have caused us a great deal of trouble.”
She could imagine. All their attempts to get rid of her. To prevent what she knew from ever coming out. If only they had known how little she’d remembered.
Now
it was to her advantage that they didn’t know she’d blocked those memories. It had been the only way she could survive them. That and the support of Monty Gardner.
“That doesn’t tell me what you want,” she said.
Her voice seemed remarkably steady. Especially since, now that the dam had been breeched, the memories she had denied for decades were flooding her consciousness.
“It’s really very simple. We need to know what you’ve told them.”
“Exactly what you told the Phoenix,” Sabina added.
Marguery’s Igor. His alter ego. Not that he’d ever had need of another.
“Why don’t you read my mind?” Raine suggested, echoing the old woman’s mockery of this afternoon.
“Don’t be impertinent, my dear,” Marguery warned softly. “It doesn’t become you.”
He sounded like a headmaster, threatening some recalcitrant pupil. And no matter what happened, that was a role she had no intention of playing. Never again. It had taken her too long to put these particular demons behind her.
Her life and Ethan’s might depend on how well she would be able to handle their questions. If she told them the truth—that she had revealed nothing about Cassandra because she had remembered nothing—they certainly wouldn’t hesitate to dispose of her. Just as they had tried to dispose of the only other person who knew the full story of their treachery. And if she claimed to have already provided the authorities with the information, they would have no reason to keep her around.
It was a lose-lose situation. It might be convenient for Marguery to know what Cabot and the authorities knew, but it wasn’t essential. Their questioning wasn’t intended to solicit information so much as to demonstrate once again their power over her.
It was the kind of intimidation they enjoyed most. With the help of Mr. Gardner, she had managed to escape once. That she was again under their control must seem like poetic justice.
Maybe they would enjoy it enough to prolong the interrogation, although she wasn’t sure what value there might be in that. Cabot knew where they were. Would he become concerned if Ethan didn’t eventually check in? And if so, how long would it take him?