He released a low, menacing, mocking chuckle as she struggled. Still clutching the blade in one hand, she dug her fingers into the dirt with the other. The red acrylics she’d had applied only days ago snapped back, a bitter reminder of her fourth vision, of its horrifying outcome.
She tamped down the increasing terror and fought. Clawed, scratched, searched for anything to halt her descent. Left with a fistful of dirt, she mule kicked. Twisted and thrashed.
“Goddamn bitch,” he grunted, and tightening his hold on her ankles, flipped her onto her back.
A large tree root slammed into her shoulder blade and the shock to her system caused her to drop the knife. She ignored the pain.
What he had planned for her next was much worse.
*
John broke through a thicket of trees, then stopped when the search dog began moving in circles. Its handler had arrived hours ago, and had thankfully remained for the impending search. The same men they’d used to look for the third victim this morning were present, too, along with a dozen State Troopers and officers on loan from the Eau Claire PD. Lloyd had led half of the men into the forest from the county road, and had discovered Celeste’s car, but nothing else. John had remained with Roy, Ian, and the other half of the search party and had entered the woods from the highway at mile marker one-sixty-two.
When he’d first climbed out of the sheriff’s cruiser and stared at the forest, with the way the sun quickly dipped into the horizon, the dense woods had appeared dark, ominous, and endless.
For over twenty minutes they’d been combing the forest. With each step, fear for Celeste had consumed him. When they’d found Malvern’s cabin empty, the cot with a knife slice and shredded duct tape still attached to the metal legs, his fear had intensified. He’d hoped to God she’d somehow managed to escape, but considering Malvern had left his motorcycle behind, he’d immediately assumed the worst. Malvern was going after her.
He needed to find Celeste before it was too late. His chest tightened and his gut twisted with alarm and anxiety as the dog continued to circle and sniff. He loved her so much, and could no longer imagine life without Celeste in it.
“What’s with the dog?” Jesse asked as he approached with Ian.
“Could be the trail your guy had used to reach the cabin,” the German Shepherd’s handler answered, then crouched down and petted the dog. Speaking low in its ear, he held a piece of Celeste’s clothes under its nose. Tail wagging, the dog dropped its muzzle to the ground, then took off, back toward the cabin.
John reluctantly followed behind, beginning to think the dog unreliable. Minutes passed, then the dog stopped, put its nose to the ground again, then ran in a completely different direction.
“Up ahead,” Ian called.
A faint beam of light broke through blackness, not moving side to side as if being used to search. Instead it remained still.
Although difficult to gauge the distance, John figured the light came from at least a hundred yards away. Not far, but if Dan had Celeste?
Better watch out for her. My brother’s got a thing for knives.
A woman’s scream pierced the night, sending sharp shards of fear and terror straight into his heart. A hundred yards suddenly seemed as if it were a hundred miles.
*
Celeste released another scream, this time beneath the hand clamped over her mouth, as Dan dug his fingers into the thin cut lining her stomach, stretching and pulling at the tender skin. She cried and moaned, as waves of pain ricocheted throughout her body.
“Shut your mouth,” he ordered, then grabbed her head with both hands, crushing her skull, digging his fingers into her temples and cheeks. With a grunt, he pulled her forward then slammed her head against the ground.
The impact rattled her jaw and shook her brain. Her vision blurred. The flashlight he’d dropped next to her dimmed, as her eyelids drooped and everything began to fade to black.
“You’re not going to pull an Ugly Evie on me.” He smacked her face. “Keep your eyes open and look at me.”
He hit her a second time, the sharp sting jarring her from the blessed semiconscious state. When she met his gaze, a sick smile twisted beneath his mustache.
“Running from me was your first mistake.” He settled his weight on top of her and reached into his back pocket. “Your second was taking my knife, which I see you’ve gone and lost.” He stretched a thin cord taut. “Your third and biggest was taking the keys for my motorcycle.”
A tear rolled down her cheek as she stared at the cord and sifted her hands through the leaves above her head. “I...I didn’t take your keys,” she lied, hoping to bide her time and find the knife. “Check your pockets. You could have already been on the road to freedom by now.”
A deep scowl lined his face, as his eyes turned feral with shock and rage. “You’re a lying bitch.” He raised his hand to strike her again.
She turned her face away, searching for the knife with both her eyes and her fingers. “I swear, it’s true.”
He dug through her jeans pockets first, and she thanked God she’d tossed them when she realized the key to the handcuffs wasn’t on the chain. “Better be,” he warned, as he checked his pockets. “Or I swear to God I’ll wrap this cord around your neck until you begin to die, then just when you think you’re free to travel through those pearly gates, I’ll stop. Revive you and do it all over again.”
Stunned he’d fallen for such a stupid distraction, she continued to carefully sift her hands through the leaves. When the sharp edge of the blade nicked her right palm, she inched her fingers along the knife until she could wrap her hand around the handle. Her heart pounded, with adrenaline, with hope.
When he finished patting his pockets, he settled his full weight back on her stomach. Pulling the cord tight again, he raised it above her head. “You lied to me.”
“I swear I didn’t. The keys must have fallen out while you were chasing me,” she said, keeping her cuffed hands and the knife under the dead leaves.
“Is that right?” he chuckled. “What did I tell you I’d do if you lied to me?”
She tightened her hold on the handle with her sweaty palms. “You don’t have to do this. Just leave me here and run. Go. I won’t tell. I won’t—”
“I know you won’t. You’ll be dead,” he whispered, with another low, mocking chuckle.
After all she’d gone through the bastard had the balls to laugh at her? Hate, pure and black, raged within her as the images of the other women he and his brother had murdered tore through her mind.
“Better make sure,” she baited.
His face twisted into an ugly sneer. “Bitch,” he muttered, then lunged, pressing the cord against her throat.
The dog she’d heard earlier barked. Maybe it was her imagination, her hope playing tricks on her, but she swore it grew louder, closer.
“You hear that?” he asked, his putrid breath hot against her cheek. “Somebody’s looking for you. Maybe that boyfriend of yours. But guess what? When he finds you, you’ll already be dead, and I’ll be gone.” He leaned in and shoved his tongue in her mouth.
She gagged, clamped her teeth and bit as hard as she could.
He jerked back and punched her in the head.
“Stupid bitch,” he cried over his bloody tongue. Yanking her hair, he wrapped the cord around her neck and squeezed.
The thin cord closed off her windpipe. With hatred burning in her soul, she used every ounce of strength left in her, and plunged the knife into his back.
Dead leaves flew and settled around them as he released a harsh grunt. He dropped the cord, but replaced it with his hand, squeezing her throat as he reached for the knife with his other hand.
Kicking her legs, she clawed at the hand surrounding her throat. His grip slackened, while his face twisted in pain, as he wrenched the knife free.
Before he could use it against her, she slugged him in the jaw with her cuffed fists. The punch knocked his head back. She hit him again, and
again, until he teetered to the side. Untwining her body from his, she kicked him in the forehead with the heel of her shoe, then jumped on top of him and hit him again.
His head lulled to the side as she grabbed the knife from his hand. “I found your fucking knife for you,” she screamed. Gripping the handle with both hands, she raised it above her head then plunged the jagged steel square into his chest.
Howling with hatred, she rotated the handle, and thrust deeper, aiming for his cold, black heart.
He looked down at the knife imbedded in his chest, then back to her. “Bitch,” he coughed. Blood oozed from his mouth and dripped down his chin. He reached for the protruding handle, then surprised her with a hard upper cut to the chin.
The unexpected blow knocked her on her back. Her head bounced. Even with the blade still imbedded in his chest, he shifted, clambered and rushed on top of her.
“I’ll haunt you,” he whispered against her throat, his sweat, his blood coating and sticking to her skin. “I’ll come to you in your fucking dreams, I’ll...”
“I don’t think so, bitch.” She grasped the knife handle and rammed the blade deeper into his chest. “You’ll be burning in hell.”
He choked. Sputtering blood across her face, he leaned back, reaching for the knife buried in his chest.
A shot rang out and echoed off the trees.
She jumped and gasped, as a trickle of blood seeped from a small black hole in the center of Dan’s forehead.
Then he fell forward.
The knife handle dug into her ribs as Dan draped over her body. Even dead, he suffocated her.
Bile rose in her throat. Sure she’d vomit, she kicked and screamed. She coiled her body, trying desperately to free herself from his vile, disgusting deadweight.
A booted foot kicked Dan off of her, then strong arms carrying a familiar scent were wrapping her in a cocoon of safety, security.
John.
“I’ve got you, baby,” he said, and held her tight against his chest.
She clung to him and closed her eyes. As he ran his hands over her body, likely checking for injuries, she remained still, relieved to be alive and in his arms again. Even as dozens of men approached, their voices mingling together, none more distinct than the other, she didn’t move. She couldn’t. Exhausted, every inch of her body ached. And her head...she swore it suddenly weighed a hundred pounds. She couldn’t lift it, move it. The voices around her grew tinny, distant. All but John’s.
“EMTs on their way with a stretcher. Just a few more minutes and we’ll get you to the hospital.”
“Stay...with...me,” she managed to whisper against his chest.
He tightened his arms around her, which hurt, but at this point she didn’t care. The pain had become a blessed reminder that she’d survived. That she’d changed her fate. Yet fate and murder had brought her and John together. Fate had also brought Ian into her life. Which had potentially destroyed what she had with John.
She would survive if she lost him. She’d go on, fulfill her own dreams, but knew in her heart, fulfilling those dreams would be so much sweeter if John was there beside her. She didn’t want to lose him. And although her fingers ached, the tips numb from clawing at the dirt, she gripped the front of his coat. “John,” she said thickly, keeping her eyes closed as her head grew dizzy.
“Shh.” He kissed the top of her head. “They’re almost here.”
“I...” she began again, and on the verge of blacking out, she clung tighter. She had to finish, had to tell him. But her mouth wouldn’t cooperate.
“Where are they?” he shouted, his tone desperate as he rocked her.
Mustering the last bit of strength she possessed, she whispered, “I love you,” then everything went black.
*
She loved him.
John paced the hallway for the millionth time since Celeste had been brought to the hospital. At least he thought that’s what she’d said before she’d lost consciousness. God, he hoped that’s what she’d said, and not his mind playing tricks on him. He loved her and didn’t want what they had together to end.
Today had been utter hell. More times than he could remember, he’d feared the worst. And each time those thoughts crept in throughout the painful day, terrifying, desolate blackness swallowed his heart and soul. How he’d managed to roll through life without even knowing Celeste until days ago, he didn’t know. Because now he couldn’t picture his life without her.
The door to Celeste’s room swung open as her doctor and a pair of nurses exited.
“How is she? Can I see her?” John asked anxiously.
The doctor nodded as the nurses moved down the hall. “She’s dehydrated, suffered a concussion, and needed a half dozen stitches for the laceration she received on her left side. The wound on her stomach required a few stitches as well. Other than being pretty banged up, she’s in good shape. She’ll be free to leave in a few days.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve just given her a mild sedative, so if you plan on talking to her, you better do it now.”
John thanked the doctor, then rushed into the room. He fought a wince when she looked up at him. Banged up didn’t even come close to describing her appearance. It had been too dark in the woods for him to notice her swollen eyes, mouth and jaw, let alone the bruises marring her skin, the split lip, and cut on her forehead.
“That bad?” she asked with a tilt to her lips.
“You’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah right.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, and reached for her hand. With his thumb, he gently caressed the gauze around her wrist. “The doctor said you could go home in a few days.”
Nodding she looked at him. “Are you?”
“Going home? That depends.”
“On?”
“You.” He leaned forward, careful of her stitches. Caressing her bruised face, he then fingered one of her curls. “I was such an ass last night. I’d actually planned on apologizing to you today, only not like this. When I found out Malvern had taken you, I...I’d never been more scared in my life.”
She reached for his hand and gave him a small smile. “That makes two of us. Thank you for coming to my rescue. I’d bat my lashes and tell you that you’re my hero, but my eyes are so swollen I’m afraid it will hurt too much.”
“You did just fine on your own.” He kissed her bandaged fingers. “You outwitted a very smart, very dangerous killer. Your strength and determination amazes me.”
When she frowned, he moved closer. “I’m sorry for what I’d said about you hiding here. I didn’t mean—”
“No, don’t apologize for that. You were right. I stayed in Wissota Falls for all the wrong reasons. Nurturing is in my nature. I want to help whenever and wherever I can.”
“That’s one of the things I love about you.”
“It’s not a bad quality,” she agreed. “But I also need to start putting myself first now and then. When I woke up, handcuffed and strapped to that cot…” She shivered. “As I tried to free myself, I swore that if I survived, I’d make sure I started living my dreams. For me, not someone else.”
He stared at her battered face, into her blue eyes which held such conviction and strength. He’d never been more proud of anyone in his life. She’d taken a horrifying ordeal, and was determined to use it to better herself, whereas most people would use it as a crutch.
That last thought hit home. Celeste had accused him of using his past as a crutch. Not anymore. A strong woman deserved a strong man.
“I love you, Celeste. I’m sorry for everything. I said a lot of things—”
She placed a finger on his lips. “I love you. And we both said a lot of things. I’m sorry, too.”
Relief burst inside him. “Will you still come to Chicago?”
“I’ve always loved the city. Plus my sister’s there, and my brother will be in less than a month. Then there’s Ian.”
“So am I.”
“That you are.” She tilted her head against the pillow. “Only you hate my, ahem, gnomes. I’m not sure I can be with a man who has issues with—”
He silenced her with a gentle kiss. “Bring every gnome you own. I don’t care, as long as you’re with me. In less than a week, you taught me what it is to love, and to be loved. Last night I realized how right you were. That I had been living in the past and that dwelling there was only going to screw up my future. With you. I breached your trust when I walked out last night. When I saw Ian at the dinner, then learned about him being your father, I should have been holding you, asking how you were handling the situation. Instead, I—”
“Stop, you’re rambling.” She touched his cheek. “You had me at gnome.”
Laughing, he kissed her again, not the way he wanted, but there would be plenty of time for that. God willing, for maybe the next fifty years.
A knock at the door had him pulling away with reluctance.
“It’s probably Ian or Roy back from the cafeteria coffee run. You up for a few visitors?”
“Absolutely.”
Only Ian and Roy hadn’t entered the room, but Dr. Alex Trumane. “I’m sorry to disturb you,” Alex said, as he cautiously approached, his eyes on Celeste. “But I thought Celeste might want to hear about Miranda.”
“Are you her doctor?” she asked.
His face reddened. “I will be when she moves back to Jackson, Mississippi.”
When she frowned, John explained how Alex knew Miranda, as well as how he’d led them to Malvern.
“You can’t possibly blame yourself for this,” she said adamantly.
He smiled. “That’s what Miranda said, but I still do.”
“Get over it and move on.” She shifted her gaze from Alex back to him. “Guilt is an unnecessary emotion that only holds you back. From what you love, and those you love. Do you have someone you love in Jackson?” she asked, looking to Alex now.
“Her name’s Kira. But she doesn’t...know how I feel about her.” He closed his eyes. “She doesn’t know about any of this.”
CORE Shadow [1] Shadow of Danger Page 39