by Tara Nina
God let her be safe, please.
A hiss caught his attention right before a short burst of cool mist floated from the ceiling and coated his skin. Thirst caused him to react, gathering the moisture from the air with his tongue. He inhaled the sickly-sweet scent, which stung his nostrils. His flesh tingled and his system revolted against the strange sensation running through him. Every muscle seemed to lose function turning him into an immobile lump. Oh God! Had that strange mist drugged him? Earl tried to move but couldn’t.
Forcing his eyelids to pull apart again, the sun sent spears of light directly into his brain increasing the pain. He fought to keep them open though the thin layers of skin wanted desperately to close and shield his eyes from the unwanted brightness. A fuzzy image came into view. A person moved in his direction. Though the distance between them shortened, the face and shape remained blurry. But he sensed his attacker was a woman, or a small-framed man with a penchant for women’s perfume. He tried to smile at the thought, but couldn’t. The side of his head hurt too much.
The person stopped within arm’s reach of him. Though he couldn’t make out definitive features, he knew it was definitely a woman. Her slender hand with long fingers moved as if in slow motion and slapped his face, but he was helpless to avoid it. His limbs were anchors at his sides. Unable to control it, his head snapped back from the force of the slap and dangled loosely on his weakened neck. For the first time, he saw what tripped him. Squinting, he was able to distinguish a heavy chain cuffed to his ankle and the other end attached to the wall at the foot of the bed.
Her nails dug into his scalp as she fisted his hair and jerked his head upright. She stood straddled over his crumpled position against the bed. If he could move, he knew he would probably throw her across the room. But his body failed to respond to any command his brain gave. What the hell had she done to him? It had to be some sort of drug. Never had he felt so weak and immobile.
Recognition flooded his system the moment she opened her mouth. His eyes and body may not function properly, but his ears caught every syllable.
“Your time has finally come, Earl Lightfoot.” The words seethed with venomous hatred. When she tightened her grip in his hair, stars shot behind his eyes, forcing them closed.
He gathered as much saliva as his dried mouth allowed then forced words to exit his numb lips. “What do you want, Kimberly? I have nothing left.”
Her shrill laughter cut through him like a sharp steel knife. The hard shove of her hand caused the bump and gash on the side of his head to hit the bedpost. It was all he could do to remain conscious from the pain whipping through his system. If he thought his head hurt before, now the throb worsened and beat a marching band tempo on the inside of his skull.
“You have one thing, Lightfoot.”
He managed to tilt his head back and look up into her face. Narrowing his eyes to mere slits, her features came into a hazy distorted form of focus. Evil lurked beneath her skin. He sensed it with every ounce of Native American essence that flowed within his veins. Forcing his eyes open wide, he proclaimed between clenched teeth, “I told you. I have nothing left, Kimberly. I lost Charlotte. I renounced my heritage and left the tribe. What more could you want?”
“Ask not what I want,” she proclaimed, releasing him and whirling around the room with her hands held high in the air. “Ask what God wants. An eye for an eye. A soul for a soul.”
Without warning, she grasped the chain and jerked with a phenomenal strength he didn’t realize she possessed. His leg stretched out from his hip to the point he thought it would snap and he uncontrollably slid onto his back. Earl sank his teeth into his lower lip and swallowed his scream. He refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing the extent of pain she inflicted. Heavy limbed, he could not fight back. He couldn’t even lift his head.
He lay flat on his back on the floor beside the bed. In a major feat of panicked strength, he forced his arm and hand to work. He grabbed the bedpost and rolled onto his side. It was the wrong move. She came at him armed with a weapon.
Twack! The leather stung the exposed flesh of his backside. In another situation, he would have enjoyed the sting, but not now, not here. No pleasure sizzled through his veins in reaction to her violent action. Fear skittered up his spine causing him to stiffen, which made the next blow worse. He sensed Kimberly inflicted pain for the sheer measure of joy it gave her with each attempt to remove flesh from his body. Over and over, she hit him frying his skin with each connection of the flogger. Earl jerked and squirmed with every whack of the leather, but refused to scream.
She fisted his hair and tugged his head backward. Leaning over him, she practically spat in his face as she gloated. “The feel of the leather to your flesh turns you on, doesn’t it? Did you do this to my sister when you forced her to practice your deviant ways?”
Earl grappled for an ounce of strength, opened his eyes and glared directly into the face of a crazed woman. “Jealous? Do you wish it was you instead of she who felt the pain of ultimate pleasure?” he managed to hiss between clenched teeth. “Want me to turn the tables and use that flogger on you until you beg to come?”
Kimberly screamed and landed a harsh backhand to his cheek, splitting it open. It might not have been so bad if she wasn’t wearing a studded, fingerless glove. Damn. He knew he shouldn’t taunt the Devil, but he couldn’t resist. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed blood dripped to the floor from the wound. She stood and kicked him in the side before she turned and stomped toward the only visible door.
“You should have heeded the warnings I gave you.” She stopped and glared at him.
“What warnings?” he asked on a graveled voice.
“Think really hard. I gave you many chances to take this matter into your own hands. You killed my sister with your destructive ways. Now,” she paused, panting heavily. “Now I have to be the hand of God and rid this world of you and your sexual deviancy.”
The slam of the door let him know she’d left. Safe for now. Earl quickly realized the one good thing he gained from the beating. It increased his adrenaline and helped him fight whatever drug lingered in his system. He dragged himself into a sitting position. The leg with the attached chain ached at the hip and ankle, but he managed to move it. Inch by inch, he worked until he crawled back onto the bed.
Every ounce of him hurt. Exhaustion threatened to overtake him, but he resisted. It wouldn’t do to black out. He needed to remain conscious if he wanted to defeat Kimberly. Earl did his best to become comfortable, but the flesh wounds burned at the touch of the bedding.
Her claim of warning him bounced around his head. What warnings? The past three years paraded through his thoughts. Different strange events flashed to the forefront of his mind. Was she behind all the odd occurrences that happened to him since Charlotte’s death? Six months after he left the tribe, Charlotte’s ghost appeared in the apartment he rented from the widow Winters, just as it had in his home on the reservation. The ghostly visits were the main reasons he left, to get away from the memories.
He covered his eyes with his hand and gently rubbed as he tried to sort the images and information into something coherent. Did Kimberly somehow make that happen? Had she fabricated the hauntings that followed him from place to place? Did she prey upon his spiritual beliefs and rip apart his sanity? For what? Vengeance?
Oh God! Had she burned down the boarding house to get to him? Did she even know Mr. Peterson died because of it? Earl slowly rolled onto the side that had no open wounds and curled into a ball. Was she behind all the other strange things that tormented his psyche for the last three years? Had Kimberly followed him, tortured him into believing he killed Charlotte with his sexual needs? Made him hate himself, hate sex and fear even the simplest of ejaculations, afraid that it may cause him to kill?
Earl’s insides tightened. How the hell had he fallen so far into this unwanted pit of anguish and despair? The weakness of losing a loved one to the darkness of death ruled his soul e
nough to let her win. No. A little voice inside his head spoke which sounded just like Emma Jean and soothed his frazzled nerves. He had been in mourning for the woman he loved and lost. To mourn is a normal way of coping with loss.
He knew mourning was natural, but the tricks Kimberly played had twisted his mind and tortured his soul into believing Charlotte’s death was his fault. It wasn’t. Shifting through the madness, he understood the difference between what was right and wrong in this scenario. Kimberly needed to be stopped before she killed again. Or murdered him.
It was time to live, Earl decided. Three years was long enough. Punishment enough for a crime he didn’t commit. Charlotte would have died from that aneurysm at any time. Unfortunately, it happened while he was there. Earl closed his eyes for a moment. Seconds later, Charlotte appeared behind his lids. Her soft sweet voice filled his head.
“I loved you, Earl, as much as you loved me. I died in your arms, knowing I was loved. It wasn’t your fault.”
Earl struggled to sit upright. Water dripped from his eyes as he searched the room for any sign of what projected Charlotte’s voice. He saw nothing. No speakers, no wires, nothing that may have made the sound. What was Kimberly up to now? Why torment him with Charlotte’s forgiveness?
“It’s not Kimberly. It’s from me, Charlotte. Please live Earl. Live for me.” Charlotte’s beautiful face appeared hovering above him. She blew him a kiss then disappeared.
Instantly, Earl’s eyes opened wide. Sweat beaded his brow. He still lay upon his side. He hadn’t moved. It was all a dream, a sweet dream, or had Charlotte reached out to him from the spirit world? The Native American in him whispered that she had. Earl swiped the back of his hand across his upper lip. Peace filled his soul. It was time to move forward and stop wallowing in self-pity and misery.
Now if he could just escape from this lunatic’s lair.
* * * * *
Emma Jean sat quietly and listened to everything David had to say. Dreadful images filled her head. Poor Earl. He’d lost so much, the woman he loved, his native home and now… She bit her lower lip and prayed he still lived. If what David believed was true, then the sister of Earl’s dead fiancée was tracking him. David only stopped speaking long enough to let Jack in the front door. She heard Jack say, before he lowered his voice, the others were out back, cordoning off the crime scene and gathering evidence.
“Any luck finding this Kimberly Stillwater?” she asked, drawing the two detectives out of their private whisperings. When they turned to face her, she continued. “I want to be a part of this. I should have told Earl about those phone calls.”
David moved to her side and gathered her hands in his. The warmth of his touch helped ease her nervousness, but didn’t alleviate it completely. Earl was in danger and she felt as if she were somehow to blame.
“This is not your fault, Emma Jean.” David’s calm tone touched her heart. “Obviously, Kimberly Stillwater is in need of psychiatric help. From what we’ve learned, her hatred for Lightfoot didn’t end when he left the reservation.”
Jack stood beside David. “I called Chief Cloud of Earl’s former tribe and explained what happened. She wasn’t able to give us any additional information as to Stillwater’s whereabouts. But she did open up and tell me something she didn’t when we visited with her. Apparently, the tribal council requested Stillwater undergo ‘special’ treatment for her fanatical delusions over her sister’s death. It turns out that Stillwater not only tormented Lightfoot, but other members of the tribe who even remotely backed Lightfoot. When the council presented their request, she freaked and disappeared.”
“That’s probably when she continued this twisted pursuit of Lightfoot.” David pulled a notepad from his inside coat pocket, flipped it open and skimmed through it for a few seconds. “According to what you uncovered, Lightfoot’s problems off the reservation didn’t seem to start until about six months after he left. Or at least that’s what was reported to you by his former landlords.”
“If anything happened prior to that, Lightfoot himself didn’t report it to anyone that I’ve found so far.” Jack shrugged as Emma Jean soaked in every word spoken. It seemed as if they’d forgotten she sat there while they bounced information between them. “If you think about it, would you have told anyone you were being haunted?”
“Right,” David said on a long drawn-out breath. “I don’t think I’d mention it either.”
“So what the two of you are saying,” Emma Jean interrupted, “is someone has been after Earl for almost three years now and no one knew it.”
“He probably had an idea, but couldn’t prove it,” David said. His tone and sudden shift in stance made Emma Jean smile inwardly because it appeared as if he had taken Earl’s side in this.
“Or what if he wasn’t thinking clearly and didn’t know it himself.” Emma Jean slid from the stool and paced around the pair. “Earl is a very strong, yet highly sensitive man. From what I know of him, I bet the death of his fiancée hit him hard and broke his heart.”
She stopped and looked directly into David’s eyes as she continued. “And if she died in his arms while they were sexually experimenting, it explains a lot about the man. His views on sex have been twisted and he’s hesitant to even explore his sexual nature without being prodded.”
“How—” David started to ask, but she placed a finger on his lips and stopped him.
“How I know about his sexual tendencies is not relevant right now,” she said. Emma Jean stretched upward and whispered in his ear. “We shall discuss this in private. There’s much we both need from a relationship and I know you are one of the two men who can give me what I want.”
The bell above the front door jingled. She lowered to stand flat-footed and stated as she turned to see who entered. “What’s important right now is finding Kimberly Stillwater.”
“I think we can help in that matter.”
Emma Jean’s eyebrow arched and she couldn’t believe who entered her store. Neither had ever visited before, and it astounded her they stood there now.
David pushed past her to greet the pair. “Reverend, how do you know about what’s going on and what do you know about Kimberly Stillwater?”
The Reverend Paul Pickford stood holding his wife Penelope’s elbow in what appeared to be a rather tight grip. He nodded toward her as he spoke. “Someone here has a rather fond addiction to listening to the police scanner. When she heard about a kidnapping behind Devilish Delights, she broke into tears. It took me a few minutes to calm her down. When she finally did, she confessed she might know something about this. That’s when I put her in the car and drove her here.”
He turned to his wife, tilted her chin so she could look at no one but him and stated point-blank, “Every second counts in an abduction case, be it a child or an adult. Tell the detectives everything, Penelope. Don’t leave one item out.”
“B-but,” she stuttered.
“Tell them everything,” he reiterated, firmly. “We will pray together for God’s forgiveness when you are done.”
Penelope visibly shook from head to toe when he released her. Emma Jean offered her a stool. She politely took it and did something Emma Jean never would have expected to happen in a million years. She grabbed Emma Jean’s hand for support. Tears filled her eyes as she lifted her gaze to meet Emma Jean’s.
“I never meant for anything like this to happen. Please believe me.”
Emma Jean swallowed against the lump in her throat. Since the time she beat Penelope out as Homecoming Queen in their senior year of high school, Emma Jean knew of Penelope’s dislike for her. Venom-filled words had passed between them for years, though Emma Jean wasn’t the first to provoke this feud. And here this woman sat asking for Emma Jean to believe in her. Thinking only of Earl, Emma Jean did her best to soothe the distraught woman.
“I believe you, Penelope.” Emma Jean forced the words to exit her lips in as comforting a manner as she could, though deep down all she wanted to do was wring th
is woman’s neck if she’d caused Earl pain. “What did you do that makes you think you had a hand in this?”
“About two months ago that awful woman, Kimberly Stillwater, started attending our sermons. She befriended me, claiming she wanted to work in the service of our Lord.” Penelope squeezed Emma Jean’s hand as if she needed to draw strength from her touch. Emma Jean forced a smile and hoped Penelope bought it. “It was her idea to write that letter to the town.”
Emma Jean jerked free of Penelope’s grasp. Even though she tried to control her temper, her words came out harsh and loud. “It was you. You were behind that letter.”
Penelope broke into tears and hid her face in her hands. “Yes. Yes. I allowed that woman to manipulate me into attacking you. I see now the fault of my ways.”
Reverend Pickford gathered his wife in his arms and tried to soothe her. “Honey, please tell the detectives what you know about Kimberly Stillwater. Do you know where to find her?”
Sniffing loudly, Penelope pushed from her husband’s arms and stood. She moved to face Emma Jean. “I’m sorry I ever got involved with her.”
She pulled a handful of snapshots from her purse and handed them to Emma Jean. “That woman followed you. She wanted to turn you against Earl and his wicked ways. When you didn’t listen to her calls, she decided to take another route.”
Emma Jean’s jaw tightened at the sight of her and Paul sitting in the restaurant of the Mountain Motor Lodge. She looked over at Paul. “Did you know about these?”
“Not until about a half hour ago,” he replied.
Why they had met wasn’t anybody’s business, but from the look on Penelope’s face, she knew she had no other option but to explain. Before she could, Penelope spoke.
“She tried to blackmail me into helping her.”
“Help her do what?” David asked as he took the pictures from Emma Jean. His raised-eyebrow look asked Emma Jean a silent question she truly didn’t want to answer.