Manhunt

by Carla Cassidy

  “Alyssa?” He cleared his throat to chase away the touch of fear he heard in his own voice. “Honey…where are you now?”

  There was no reply, nor did she move at all. Nick called her name one more time and still she didn’t respond. Apparently she was in the darkness of unconsciousness that seemed to follow her visions.

  He knew it would be a few minutes before she resurfaced and he stood, too restless to sit next to her as he thought of what they’d just done, what he’d just learned.

  He paced the room from one end to the other. And what had he learned? That if her vision came true, he would meet his end from a sharp knife with a carved dark blue handle beneath a misshapen tree?

  He couldn’t believe that Alyssa would wield the knife that would take his life, so who? And why hadn’t her vision shown him grabbing his gun and protecting himself? Why would he allow himself to be totally vulnerable to a killer?

  There had to be more to it than what she was seeing, or a different interpretation of the events. Frustration, raw and greedy, gnawed at him.

  He should be feeling a certain element of success at what they’d managed to accomplish. She’d managed to interact with him while her vision was taking place. Instead, he felt only more frustrated than before because he hadn’t gotten enough information to figure out the identity of the killer.

  Stopping his pacing, he gazed at her, wondering how long she’d be unconscious. Last time it hadn’t been that long, but already the minutes seemed to be stretching into a worrisome length of time.

  “And you deserved what you got, you bastard.”

  The words reverberated in his head, causing a chill inside him that he couldn’t quite shake. They had been delivered with such strength, with such malice and self-righteousness.

  What would make somebody believe he deserved to be stabbed to death? And what about the other victims?

  Again he looked at her, his worry deepening as she remained so still. She’d been under too long…what if their little experiment had driven her so deep inside herself she never again surfaced?

  They had no idea how the mind and body would react to such things. Wake up, Alyssa. He mentally willed her to open her eyes and be okay. Besides, this experiment hadn’t really brought concrete answers, rather it only brought more questions.

  With a sigh of relief, he hurried back to his chair by the side of the sofa as Alyssa moaned faintly. Alyssa? Are you all right?”

  Her eyelids fluttered, then remained open, but they held the horror of her vision. Tears fell as she sat up. He moved next to her on the sofa and took her into his arms.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him as if he was her lifeline to sanity. Her body was cold, her skin pale and clammy and her heart beat like that of a frightened bird held in his hands.

  She cried only a brief time, then moved out of his arms, as if sorry for the show of momentary weak ness. “Are you all right?” he asked as she stood. She nodded. “I’m fine.”

  She didn’t look fine to him. She still appeared un usually pale and shaken. “Do you remember everything that just happened?”

  She reached up with one hand and twirled the bottom ends of a strand of hair between her fingers. “I remember. It was strange. I felt like I was living in the vision and yet I also knew that I was on the sofa and you were next to me, talking to me. Did anything I said help?” She leaned weakly against the back of the sofa.

  Nick’s worry about her increased. She seemed to be depleted of all energy, as if the vision had sucked the blood out of her. He didn’t remember her looking so weak, so utterly spent the last time she’d had a vision.

  “Why don’t we head over to Ruby’s and get a bite to eat?” he asked impulsively, thinking the fresh air and some food might do her some good.

  “Oh, I don’t know…I need to…to…” She frowned in bewilderment, as if she couldn’t believe that there was nothing she needed to do.

  He sensed her withdrawing from him, as if preparing to distance herself emotionally and physically. He couldn’t allow her to do that, not now, not after what she’d just been through.

  “You don’t need to do anything but come have a late dinner with me.” He took her by the elbow and propelled her toward the doorway.

  She resisted for a moment, then seemed to relent and together they left the bed-and-breakfast. Ruby’s lights gleamed through the trees of the park, but instead of cutting through the square, they stuck to the sidewalk.

  He let her set their walking pace, and she moved slowly, laboriously, as if still weak and exhausted from what she’d just experienced.

  Nick cursed himself for pushing her, for wanting…needing her to try to “see” something that might help the investigation. He knew how much the vision upset her and he should have never encouraged her to welcome it into her mind.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “For what?”

  “For making you do that.”

  She smiled, but the gesture didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It was my decision. You have nothing to apologize for. I’m just sorry it didn’t help.”

  “It might have helped. I’m still working everything around in my mind.” He fell silent as they reached Ruby’s door.

  The café was surprisingly busy for the lateness of the hour. Two tables had been pushed together to accommodate a group of older people who appeared to have just come from a square dance. The men were clad in jeans and western shirts and the ladies wore short dresses in bright colors over petticoats.

  Nick and Alyssa chose a table near the back, away from the raucous group. Ruby took their orders, obviously pleased to see the two of them together.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Nick asked once Ruby had left them alone.

  “I’m okay.” The haunted darkness in her eyes belied her words. “It’s just…it gets more and more difficult to come back to reality each time I have the vision.”

  “Have you had ones like this one before—ones that come persistently and leave you so wrung out?”

  “No, and that’s what scares me about this one.” She toyed with the salt and pepper shakers in the center of the table, moving them from one place to another. He couldn’t help noticing her hands trembled slightly. “Have you found out anything about Michael’s murder? You said earlier today that it was different from the rest.”

  “Different in that he was still clothed, but the medical examiner thinks he was killed by the same type of knife as the others.”

  “So, what does that mean?” It was obvious she wanted something to keep her mind off the vision she’d just experienced. He wasn’t sure that talking about a murder would do the trick, but it seemed to be her choice of conversation.

  “We don’t know for sure what it means. It’s possible the killer was interrupted before Michael could be stripped naked. Or it’s possible he was killed for a reason different from the others. The level of malevolence in his stabbing is also different from the others. Michael was only stabbed twice. The others were stabbed multiple times. Again, it’s possible that the killer was interrupted, and if the crime had played out to its entirety, Michael would have been left exactly like the others.”

  Nick stopped talking as Ruby returned to their table with their orders. The big woman visited with them for a moment, making small talk, then left them to enjoy their food.

  For a few minutes they ate in silence, and Nick found himself once again playing and replaying every detail of her vision in his head.

  “The tree you see in your vision? You said it seemed familiar. You still can’t place where you’ve seen it before?”

  “No. I’ve thought about it a hundred times, but I can’t remember.” She picked the onions off her burger with her fork. “What do you think the tree means?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe the tree is in the yard of the killer. Maybe it’s a tree that means something significant to him.”

  She took a bite of her hamburger and chewed thoughtfully, then gazed
at him, her eyes still holding that haunted look that made him want to grab her and hold her tight. “Somehow, in my mind, I’m connecting with the killer, aren’t I?”

  “I believe so.”

  She popped a French fry into her mouth, that endearing frown creasing her forehead. “What I don’t understand is why the killer would believe you deserve to die, that all the victims so far have deserved what they’ve gotten.”

  “If this is some sort of vigilante motive due to the fact that three of the men had a reputation for being womanizers and the killer knew that Greg cheated on Virginia, no stretch of anyone’s imagination can put me in that same category,” he said.

  “I just wish I could have been more helpful. Maybe when we go back to the bed-and-breakfast we should try it again.”

  “No. We’re not going to do that. Besides, it’s possible you helped more than you know. If you really are connecting with the serial killer, then I now know what the murder weapon looks like.”

  “That it has a dark blue handle.”

  He nodded. “And something else you said has been working around in my head.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When I asked you to focus on the hands that you saw in your vision, you said you saw red, then you said the knife stabbed me and there was blood. But you saw the red before you saw the blood.”

  “I remember.” She ate another fry, her gaze focused on some point in the center of the table. “But now I can’t remember what I meant. Maybe the hands holding the knife were red?” Nick nodded. “Maybe chapped, or work-worn hands.”

  They fell silent once again and focused on the rest of their meal. Nick was pleased to see the color slowly returning to her face and that she nearly finished all the food that was on her plate.

  She finally pushed her plate aside and once again gazed at him. “You do this all the time, don’t you?”

  “Do what?”

  “Try to get into the mind of killers.”

  “That’s my job, that’s what I’ve been trained to do,” he explained.

  “How do you do it? Dwell in the darkness of a killer’s mind over and over again and remain sane?”

  He finished the last French fry on his plate, then wiped his mouth on the paper napkin. “I got some very good advice from a commanding officer when I first went into profiling.”

  “And what was that?” she asked.

  “He told me that for every moment I spent in the darkness, dwelling in the twisted minds of killers, I should spend an equal amount of time in a happy, sane place.” He reached across the table and took her hand in his. “And during the time I’ve been here…delving into the darkness, you have become my happy, sane place.”

  The expression in her eyes was a curious blend of pleasure and pain. She tightened her fingers around his. “Let’s go, Nick. I need a happy, sane place tonight.”

  Chapter 12

  You have become my happy, sane place.

  Nobody had ever said anything as wonderful as the words Nick had said to her as they finished their meal. She knew as they walked, hand in hand, back to the bed-and-breakfast, that they were going to make love again.

  She could feel it in the warmth of Nick’s hand holding hers, felt it in his gaze when he looked at her. They were going to make love again and he would be her happy, sane place, too.

  “You will be alone,” her grandmother had told her. “Your gift will make it so. You will eventually learn to accept your place in life…your aloneness, your separation from all others.” The words whirled around and around in her head as they walked, bringing with them a warning that, at the moment, Alyssa didn’t want to hear.

  Tomorrow, v-gi-li-si…tomorrow, my grandmother, I will be alone. Or next week, or next year…but tonight she would be in Nick’s arms. Tonight she would not be alone.

  When they entered the back door Virginia met them in the foyer. “Oh, there you are,” she said to Alyssa. “I was wondering where everyone was.” She wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “I was spooked here all alone.”

  “We just went to get a bite to eat at Ruby’s,” Nick said.

  “Oh…” Virginia’s gaze shifted from Nick to Alyssa, then back to Nick again and her eyes widened slightly. Alyssa knew the woman was just now recognizing that there might be something more than a guest-hostess relationship between Alyssa and Nick. “Well, now that I know I’m not alone in the house anymore, I can go upstairs and sleep peacefully. Good night to you both,” she said.

  Nick and Alyssa waited in the small foyer until she had climbed the stairs and disappeared into her room, then Nick led Alyssa upstairs to his room.

  They didn’t speak a word. No words were needed. They undressed, then each slid beneath the sheets on the bed and they came together and formed a tangled knot of warm skin as their mouths sought connection.

  As always, the taste of his lips thrilled her, the feel of his skin against her own quickened her heartbeat and sent a swirling wealth of desire through her.

  A tiny piece of horror from the vision had lingered through their meal, but it couldn’t continue to exist while she was being held in Nick’s strong arms. His fevered kiss banished the horror, driving it away beneath a mastery of sweet sensations.

  There was no room for thoughts of murder in the bed. There was no room for anything but Nick. As his hands moved down to cup her breasts, she moaned in utter abandon, giving herself to him not only in body, but in mind, as well.

  His hands fired heat into her, warming all the places inside her that had been so cold…so frightened. And he followed the path of his hands with his mouth, taking first one of her nipples in his mouth, then the other.

  She tangled her hands in his hair, wanting to pull him closer…closer still…close enough that they somehow melded together in a oneness that nothing could separate.

  All her internal defenses tumbled down and she let them, knowing she could trust Nick as she’d trusted no other person in her life. She cried out his name, unable to think of anything but him as he drew her closer and closer to climax.

  She stiffened and moaned as sweet, shuddering sensations consumed her. At the same time, he moved on top of her and his mouth once again found hers in a kiss that stole whatever breath might have been left in her body.

  She was still riding the last of the waves of pleasure when he entered her. In one smooth long stroke, he refired her desire for more…more.

  Hungrily, desperately, she moved her hips, thrusting upward to meet him. Nick…Nick…his name, his essence, his very being filled her body, her head and heart.

  “Alyssa,” he whispered as he took possession of her over and over again. “Sweet Alyssa, you take my breath away.”

  “Yes.” It was the only word she could form as she was lost in a bewitching haze of his making, a mist of pleasure that obscured everything else.

  The first time they’d made love had been slow, controlled. This time was different. He came at her with a desperate kind of hunger that stirred a frantic need in her.

  Faster and faster they thrust together, their gasps and moans filling the room along with the moonlight that streamed in through the window.

  Alyssa knew the moment he was about to lose control. His heartbeat crashed against her own and every muscle in his body tensed. She tightened her legs around him, wanting to draw him in deeper. With a deep, hoarse groan, he stiffened against her as he gained his release.

  Afterward they remained wrapped together, a tangle of arms and legs beneath the cocoon of the sheet. Nick’s hand smoothed across her hair. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so much at peace, the last time her mind was so quiet and she’d been so utterly relaxed.

  But she could tell Nick didn’t feel the same kind of peace that she did. Even though his hand gently stroked her hair, she felt a tension radiating from him that belied the easy caress.

  She didn’t have to be a psychic to know that although physically he was beside her in the bed, mentally he’d gone someplace
else. He’d left his happy, sane place and had gone back to the darkness.

  She placed a hand on his heart, feeling the steady beat beneath the warm skin. “Where are you, Nick?” she asked softly.

  His chest moved up and down on a deep sigh. “Lost,” he replied with an edge of frustration in his voice.

  She changed positions so that her arms were across his chest and her chin rested on her arms. The moonlight splashed across his features, emphasizing the lines and planes that formed a handsome face. She knew where he was lost…in the crimes that remained unsolved.

  “Do you want me to try again? Go into the vision and see if we can learn anything more?”

  “Absolutely not,” he replied. He placed his arm around her back, as if protecting her from herself and her offer.

  “Then talk to me,” she said. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  He smiled ruefully. “Trust me, you don’t want to share my thoughts.”

  “But I do,” she protested. She wanted every piece of him she could get before he left her life for good.

  He raised one arm up over his head, a frown furrowing across his forehead and deepening the star-bursts of fine lines at the corners of his eyes. “I was just thinking about our bad guy.”

  “The man who possibly has red hands.”

  “If you’re right about the red hands, then it’s somebody who probably works outside,” he continued thoughtfully.

  “That doesn’t narrow the field much. Most of the men around here are farmers and ranchers. They probably all have reddened work-worn hands.”

  His chest rose and fell once again in another deep sigh. “Something else I find intriguing is the fact that not one of the victims had any defensive wounds at all. What does that tell you about the crimes?”

  “Probably the same things it tells you,” she replied. “That they either knew the killer and had no reason to fear themselves in danger, or they somehow never saw it coming.”

  “There’s no way they didn’t see it coming. I figure it had to be somebody who appeared to pose no physical threat.”

  She ran her hand through his wiry chest hair, loving the way it curled around her fingers as she slid them through the thick patch. “Wasn’t it Ted Bundy who used to pose like someone with a broken leg so women wouldn’t think he was a threat when he approached them?”