Second Nature (Crimson Cove Mysteries Book 2)

by Tara Brown

  The wind toyed with his curtains. Had someone shot at him through the window? Were they still out there on the ledge?

  My brain didn't want to register his being dead or hurt. It wanted to survive the next few minutes. It pushed Jake to a dangerous place in the back of my mind.

  I sniffled, taking breaths, trying to come up with a plan.

  My phone buzzed, making me jump, but I ignored it, scanning the room. His desk area was clear and I could see behind it. There was no one. I glanced over my shoulder, jumping with a gasp when I saw a hoodie on the floor. It was dark gray but it was empty. Just dirty laundry on the floor.

  Or was it? Had the killer left it behind?

  Or was it a ghost who had melted into the floor?

  There was no one in the bedroom with us.

  But then I glanced at the closet doors and I knew.

  One door was slightly ajar, making a thick black line in the seam. It was enough for a person to peer through. The room wasn't dark but it was dusk outside. The light was muted.

  The killer was in the closet, hiding in the shadows. He had to be.

  I needed to run before they burst from there or shot me too.

  I glanced down, not actually taking my stare from the closet doors and took three breaths. I used them to count as nerves built inside me.

  My route was planned.

  On the third breath I jumped off the bed, sprinting for the door while the smallest measure of light glinted off a silver barrel as it was lifted in the dark space between the closet doors.

  I wasn’t going to make it.

  A scream tore from my lips as I threw open the door, hearing something whistle past my ear and hit the wall beside me.

  “HELP! HELP ME!” I ran down the hall for the stairs, seeing a dark figure behind me. I grabbed for the railing, taking the stairs two and three at a time, leaping at the bottom, twisting my ankle. My body didn't register the pain it should have.

  “HELP!”

  I slid on the marble floor, skidding for the door, throwing it open too. It banged on the wall as fresh air surrounded me. I screamed again, “HELP!”

  I raced past Jake’s car, realizing I didn't have keys or a car here.

  My feet on the driveway, slapping and scraping was the only sound.

  Everything got quiet.

  A stabbing pain started to pulse up my calf. The twisted ankle was going to get me killed.

  I knew that was true, and yet I fought the notion. I refused to die for being clumsy.

  I didn’t look back. I ran hard for the end of the driveway.

  Each breath shot from me as my heart pounded in my head.

  I didn't hear anyone else, just me and the panic bursting from myself in breaths and sobs slipping past my spit-covered lips.

  Seeing the guardhouse, I pushed harder, ignoring the pain in my leg.

  When I got closer, I cried out, “HELP! OPEN THE GATE! CALL THE POLICE! PLEASE!”

  But the gate stayed closed, and it didn't look like the guard was there. Instead of running to the gate and trying to climb it, I hurried into the guardhouse, slamming the door. I locked it and checked the windows to ensure they were locked.

  My fingernail slammed into one of the window locks, ripping off. I screamed and cried, with tears and snot and spit making the labored breaths and sobs sound gross.

  I spun in a trembling circle to see if anyone was there.

  My whole body shook as my eyes fuzzed, even with my foggy glasses on.

  A dark shape ran past the window, making me jump and scream.

  It ran past again.

  I dropped to my knees, slumping on the floor and pushing on the door.

  It was the only way into the guardhouse.

  Noises outside tried to drive me crazy, but I plugged my ears and closed my eyes and waited for death.

  I didn't know what else to do.

  Chapter Twenty

  The Hanged Man heart

  The sound of the sirens and screaming told me I was still alive. Before that there had been doubt in my mind.

  Everything was in flashes. My eyes didn't see everything. My brain didn't comprehend half of what I saw. My ears only caught small bursts of words being screamed that didn't make whole sentences. It was like I caught some of what each person said but not enough from one person.

  My father was there. He was crying again. Twice in two weeks was more than I’d seen in my entire lifetime.

  He wrapped around me and helped me walk. He pushed a police officer. I didn't see why. Something happened and I was sitting—was it a wheelchair? I glanced down, and as my finger touched the rubber wheel, everything came rushing back in.

  Sound, screaming, flashing of figures moving so fast and someone crying, “WHERE’S JAKE?”

  I looked for the person screaming, but they weren’t there. I was alone in the room. Everyone had been there and then they were gone.

  I was in a bed.

  A hospital bed.

  I didn't recall coming there.

  My mind caught up with me, the way it had the night Rachel died. I would always remember what I saw and heard, even if my brain hadn’t technically been working in that moment. It just took a little time for the events to catch up with the shock and trauma they had caused. Everything was just fuzzy.

  I rubbed my fingers together, remembering the feel of blood from the tip of the dart.

  “Lainey?” my mother whispered as she crept into the room. Her eyes were red and puffy and her skin was blotchy.

  “Did you find Jake? Was he poisoned? I couldn't feel a pulse.”

  She swallowed hard. “He’s gone, baby. They can’t find him. They wanted to know what you were doing in his room.”

  Was that what she was upset about, because I was there? Was that actually the thing she was worked up about? Not the killer or the possibly dead boyfriend but the fact I had one?

  Was he my boyfriend?

  I wanted him to be. We hadn’t really cleared that up yet though.

  “I was sleeping.” I said it, praying she would focus on other things. The brave girl who wanted to shout about her virginity was gone. She vanished with the boy she loved.

  Loved?

  Had I really just thought that word?

  “My head is moving slow.” The words fell out of my fat lips. I smacked them together.

  “They gave you something. You were screaming and scaring the other patients. You were wailing, actually.” Tears leaked from her eyes.

  My parents were becoming people I didn't know. My china-doll-looking mom was missing, along with the brave girl I had imagined myself to be.

  “Where’s my phone?”

  She sat on my bed and pulled it from her pocket, laying it in my palm. I swiped and entered my passcode. A sigh heaved from me when I saw the picture. “I was sleeping, Mom. I was finally sleeping.” I showed her the picture. A sob escaped her lips.

  I didn’t care if she was disappointed in me.

  “Did they find him? He was drugged I think.” I shook my head, wishing I could block it out. “I couldn't wake him, and he had no pulse. But that could have been the point, right? Maybe the drugs slowed it down.”

  She reached forward, wiping my tears as her own drowned her face. “No, honey. The dart they found on the floor in the bedroom, it wasn’t a sleeping drug. It was poison.”

  “Maybe not enough got in his wound, maybe he only got a little.”

  She pressed her lips together. “I don't know, maybe.” She was lying.

  “Did they find him?”

  She looked confused. “No. They don't know where he is.”

  “He was in his room. He was on the bed. We were sleeping.” The ridiculous calm in my voice didn't match the stabbing pain in my heart.

  “Okay.” She rubbed my leg as we sat in silence.

  I blinked slowly and then I blinked again quickly, and she was gone and I was alone. I sat up sharply, the room spinning.

  The drugs were making everything strange
. I passed out, even when I didn't need to. I wasn't seeing the whole picture. I wasn't in control.

  I needed to get out of here.

  Vincent walked in, offering a pathetic smile. He smelled good, reminding me of the way Jake smelled. Tears filled my eyes. I closed them, sending streams of agony down my cheeks.

  He sat on the bed, staying quiet for a moment—the one I needed to pull it together.

  “It’s likely he’s alive. Why take the body if he’s dead? Why not display it the way he did the others?” He rested a hand on my knee. “It’s time to feel better, Lainey.”

  I opened my eyes and nodded. “I know.”

  “Your doctor is doing rounds now. You need to pull it together so he will release you. He’s going to be here any second, and you need to be careful what you say. Everyone thinks you’ll hurt yourself if you get let out.”

  I scowled, offended by that. “Are you kidding me?”

  He shook his head.

  “What the fu—”

  “Lainey, how are you?” The doctor walked in the door and saved me from my first real cuss word.

  “I’m good.” I couldn’t fight the look on my face. From behind the doctor, Vincent smiled wide, hinting.

  I sighed and nodded, getting control of myself and my angry look. “I’m worried about my—Jake. I’m worried he’s not okay.”

  “Are you okay?” He sat on the end of the bed and stared at me.

  “No. Of course not. Some psycho just took my boyfriend and chased me through a house and then trapped me in a guardhouse while he did laps outside to torment me. Would you be okay?”

  Vincent closed his eyes and sighed, but the doctor shook his head. “No. I would be angry and scared. How are you feeling?”

  “Angry. I’m not scared, not here. Maybe I will be at home, but I’ll make my friends sleep over. Or make my mom sleep with me.” The realization I had been here for more than one day hit me hard. Ashton. Who was feeding and watering him, if Jake and I weren’t there? Where was he going to the bathroom?

  I forced a smile on my lips. “I hope the police catch whoever it is, and I hope they spend the rest of their lives in jail.” That wasn't what I wished at all. I didn't want it to be the police who caught him.

  “You are angry.” The doctor chuckled. He signed the clipboard in his hands. Vincent gave me a disappointed look. His green eyes were filled with annoyance.

  “I am releasing you, Lainey. I think you’re the right amount of pissed off. I don't think you’re a threat to yourself at all, but God help the person who chased you.”

  “I’m not a threat. I hate pain.”

  He glanced at my ankle. “Careful on the ankle then. It was a slight sprain. It’s still a bit swollen. Ice it and rest it when you’re feeling any pain. I will give your mom a prescription for some antianxiety meds and maybe some sleeping pills, just in case.”

  I wanted to say no, to say that I didn’t need them. But I knew he would insist. Not that I would take anything. Then I would just be a sitting duck.

  “Your mom and dad are just outside. I’ll let them know you’re good to go.” He nodded at the door and waved at me. “I’m glad you’re okay, Lainey.”

  “Thanks.”

  Vincent gave me a look. “You had me worried.”

  “Me too.”

  He turned and glanced around. “I don't think this is the safest place for you right now. I think we need to start thinking about security.” He nodded at the bag of clean clothes on my bed. “Get dressed and I’ll be waiting with Lindsey and your family.” He left the room, acting weird.

  Lindsey was here and she didn't come in? I tried not to dwell on it as I climbed from the bed and winced my way to the clothes. I’d only gotten out of bed to use the bathroom and brush my teeth so I didn't know how long I’d been here. I assumed the drugs had the days blending nicely.

  In the mirror I accidentally caught a look of my face and recoiled at the sight. My eyes were puffy like I’d been crying for weeks. My pale skin was almost see-through. I’d visibly lost weight. And the dark bags under my eyes had me looking a little heroin chic.

  But in the mirror I saw other things.

  Cowardice.

  Pathetic fear.

  Selfishness.

  Saving my own skin had cost me the person who meant the most to me.

  I wished I saw fierceness or a thirst for vengeance but the shame of leaving him behind was in my eyes.

  Recalling it and the feelings I’d had, brought the terror right back for me.

  I hadn’t looked for a way to fight, only run.

  My hands shook so I clenched them as I walked out the door to my family.

  Lindsey rushed me, wrapping herself around me. She shook as she cried into my shoulder. I didn't cry. There was nothing left.

  When she pulled back she wiped her eyes. “Are you okay?”

  I shook my head. Her eyes were filled with something, but I didn't know what.

  My dad was next. He held me tight and started walking to the front of the Norwalk Hospital.

  “We’ll go out the back doors. Dan is waiting for us. There’s press out front.”

  I glanced back at my mom, and by the look on her face, I realized they were keeping something from me.

  The reason Lindsey hadn’t come into the room, but never left the hospital either, was they were keeping something from me and Lindsey knew I would see it on her face.

  When we got to the car, Dan offered his most sympathetic smile. “Lainey.” He nodded.

  “Hi, Dan.” I climbed in, completely frightened of what else there was. What could there be?

  I sat in the dark limo, glancing about the large space, nervous of what else might be in there with me. It lasted the second it took for the others to climb in, and it told me I would not be bouncing back from all of this. In fact, I might end up with Rachel’s mom over at Silver Hills.

  When we were seated in the back and Dan had started the car, everyone looked away. Down or up or at their nails. Everyone except Vince. He looked at me. He was the first one to speak, “The entire house, maids, cooks, drivers, the guard—everyone is gone from the Van der Walls’ house.”

  I swallowed the lump his words were building in my throat. “I don't understand.”

  “His parents came home to the police. Their entire house is a crime scene. The dog is missing. They found blood in the main room and foyer belonging to the cook and Jake. But that's it.”

  “Where did they go?”

  “We were hoping you might have an answer.” He gave my father a look. “The police need your statement.”

  “Oh. I mean, of course. But I don't know anything. We went there to nap; I passed out hard. I haven’t been sleeping.” My voice trailed off as the memories awoke. “My phone woke me up, I think. We got a message in—” I paused and looked at Lindsey.

  She shook her head subtly. “They know we got the threats.”

  “The killer sent a picture of me and Jake sleeping. I thought it might be that his room was bugged. Lindsey phoned and she was the one who mentioned the killer in the room.”

  “The photo looked like it was at the correct downward angle for it to be taken by a person.”

  Vincent reached over and squeezed Lindsey’s hand as he nodded. “It did.”

  “And then I realized the killer was in the closet. I just had a feeling. Of course they wanted to watch me get the message. This is all for fear, of course they wanted to see it. I tried to wake up Jake, but he-he had n-n-no p-pulse.” My words started to get harder to say as the sentences heaved from me, “He-he was cold. Not icy, j-j-just cool.” I snorted a bit as I shook my head in small twitches. “I knew I had to r-r-run. I didn't even think—I didn't even think to f-f-fight.” Tears burst from my eyes as I closed them. I pulled my glasses off and covered my face in shame.

  “How would you have fought, Lainey?” My mom pulled me into her. “How do you fight something like that? You don't even know how to fight.”

  “
He would have fought for me.” I sobbed, disgusted with myself.

  “Jake was a big boy,” my dad added.

  My eyes popped open. “What do you mean was? He is. He’s still alive. I can feel it.”

  All of them lowered their gaze. Not one of them shared my belief, except Vince. I slid my glasses on and wiped my face.

  Defeat cloaked itself around me. “What do you know that I don't?”

  Lindsey leaned forward, taking my hands in hers. “Lainey, when we got you to the hospital, you were a little crazy.” She sniffled and tried to smile. “The doctors put you to sleep and kept you that way for a while—”

  Vincent cut her off, “While you were sleeping, the killer sent another picture of Jake. Some of us don't think it could be faked. Some of us do.”

  “Let me see it.”

  Lindsey’s face paled. “No. You don't want to see this.”

  Vincent pulled his phone from his pocket and flashed the picture as my father shook his head. My mother looked away. I lifted the phone, gasping at the horrible sight. My hand lifted to my mouth, covering it for a moment before zooming the picture in.

  His throat was slit, dripping blood down his torso and onto the floorboards around him. His hands and feet were tied to the wall, like a prisoner in a medieval dungeon.

  Old dried blood stained his beautiful body that had been stripped to his boxers. The ropes on his wrists and ankles had dug in, like he’d fought. Like he’d been alive when they tied him up.

  “See how you can tell he fought. He was alive when you—” Vincent stopped himself as the cold hard truth slapped me in the face.

  “When I left him and ran like a coward.”

  He didn't argue the sentence. He took his phone back as Lindsey sobbed and my mother hugged me tighter. My father shook his head, outraged. “I don't know what you think a hundred-and-twenty-pound girl can do against someone who can lift Jake or their cook. Have you seen that woman? You never stood a chance. You would either be with Jake now, or dead, Lainey. That's the reality.”

  Vincent stared at me, his green eyes probing mine. “He’s right. You didn't stand a chance.” Fire burned in his gaze. “But you aren’t alone anymore, and we aren’t going to sit back and watch this unfold.”