A Captured Spirit

by Dakota Black

  Sweat beaded into her eyes as she struggled to find anything that would lead to another house, a ranch, a damn camper. Anything. Everything looked the same, lines and curves running all over the expansive tracts of land. Frustrated, she was about ready to give up when she noticed a line of a different color.

  After enlarging the area, she knew this had to be the correct road. Throwing the gear into drive, she pushed down on the accelerator and floored the car, swinging onto a long, gravel driveway.

  When she made her way to an impressive near mansion, she beeped the horn several times before jumping out, racing toward the entrance, pounding on the door.

  Bam! Bam!

  “Hold on. What the…” Mitchell threw open the door, his angry expression turning to one of surprise. “Cassandra. What are you doing here?”

  “I need your help. Now. Zach has been arrested and he’s being threatened. We must help him.”

  “What? You better come in.”

  Nodding, she wrung her hands as he allowed her inside. “I’m sorry to barge in. I don’t know who else to go to.”

  He led her into a small office. “What in God’s name was he arrested for?”

  “Murder.” She could tell Mitchell had some inkling of the victim’s identity. “What do you know?”

  “The girl on the news. The one from the club.” Hissing, he shook his head. “What in the hell is going on?”

  “I think you know.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  She inched closer. “Zach told me about the picture you gave him.” Yanking the photograph from her back pocket, she held the picture in front of him. “This picture. What do you know?”

  Mitchell hesitated. “This is for Zach to deal with.”

  “Not any longer. What do you know?”

  “I tried to call him.”

  “Yeah, and he didn’t want to take your call.” She walked closer. “What is going on? Who is trying to have him framed?”

  “He’s my friend and this damning secret could destroy him.” Mitchell reached for his phone.

  She grabbed his wrist. “It already is. I know about his father. He told me that his father was involved in criminal activity. What else is going on here? We must stop this. You’re his friend.”

  Clenching his eyes shut for a second, he groaned. “That’s what I was trying to tell him. I know who’s doing this, at least in part. The man wants revenge and it looks like he’s going to get it.”

  “Then tell me. I am going to help. Don’t you understand? I’m in love with him.” The words hung in the air.

  He exhaled and eased the phone down. “What he’s believed occurred all those years ago is wrong. I did some digging and used every connection I have in various law enforcement agencies. What I found is… horrifying.”

  “Tell me!”

  As Mitchell began to speak, telling her a story of the past, one infused with nothing but the thought of revenge, the visions began to swirl.

  And in them, she watched in slow motion as the monster pointing the gun, the one that would end Zach’s life was revealed.

  “Oh, God. No!”

  Chapter 10

  Cassandra remained in a fog as she drove out of Mitchell’s driveway. She sat on the edge, trying to determine where to go. There were other players in this subterfuge and that was her self-appointed job to figure out. The picture was the remaining clue. She was certain of the nasty fact. Tapping on the steering wheel, she prayed that the visions would return but there was nothing but a cold darkness in her mind, a deafening quiet. At this point, she was on her own.

  As she drove toward the city, a single thought came to mind. There were few places she could have seen the picture, or some resemblance. There was only one that made any sense. She pressed down on the gas pedal, heading in the direction of her office. Diego. She was absolutely certain he was a part of this. He had to be. The sudden interest, the job for Rush handed to her on a silver platter.

  Anger swept through every cell, creating thoughts of revenge, but she knew she had to be careful, not tip her hand. Mitchell had his hands full in securing an attorney and she would bet the Press had already been tipped off as to Zach’s arrest. Instead of killing Zach, the asshole wanted his life and his reputation destroyed. The person also wanted her love sent to prison for a murder he didn’t commit. The thought was almost perfect, too much so.

  Concentrating, she took the back way into the office, avoiding the majority of traffic. When she pulled into the parking lot of her office, she quickly looked for any recognizable cars. Being Saturday, there was only a single vehicle in the parking lot and one she didn’t recognize. Breathing a sigh of relief, she parked along the back wall, as close to the building and away from the street as possible.

  Easing out, she glanced all around her before grabbing her keys and heading for the back door. The card key allowed her into the building without any issues and she listened for any signs of activity. There was none. The elevator ride was without incident and she held her breath as the steel box came to a halt, the doors sliding open after a few seconds that seemed like minutes.

  She stepped out, peering up and down the shadowed hallways. There was no one around that she could see. Her steps quick and light, she moved to Diego’s office. He was organized, everything in its place. There were various pictures on several credenzas and even on the walls. Risking turning on the light, she moved through the room methodically, comparing the grainy picture to every photograph. There was no one that looked remotely like the man in the picture.

  Turning in a full circle, she stared down at his desk. If he even thought she was onto him, he would hide the picture, even destroying it. She rolled her eyes and walked around the edge, pulling open the various drawers and sifting through his things. She found no pictures, no hidden compartments and no damning information.

  Disgruntled, she had to fight to keep from slamming the last drawer. Something was jammed inside. Shit. Sweat beaded along the back of her neck. The last thing she needed was for Diego to find anything amiss and knowing the man, he would. After fiddling with the drawer, she managed to shove her fingers just inside, pushing down the contents. One piece of paper continued to slide out. Yanking the handle, she grabbed the problem piece then blinked several times.

  The email had been printed and folded, shoved into a drawer as if Diego was trying to hide the contents. Why not just delete it? She glanced over her shoulder at the window before opening the paper. Slapping her hand over her mouth, she wouldn’t have considered this. Not a chance. Her hand trembling, she folded the email again, shoving it into her pocket and carefully closing the drawer.

  After turning out the light, she stood in the hallway, catching her breath, then moved further into the shadows. She eased her hand around the handle, shaking her head before turning it. When she walked in, an instant chill washed down her spine. She didn’t have to have a vision to understand the level of evil surrounding the office.

  Cassandra found the light on his desk and pushed the single switch. She’d been in his office once, maybe twice given there’d been no need. He wasn’t a part of the organization on a daily basis. A lump formed in her throat as she began her search. The pictures were bland, showing very little in the way of family or friends. A small table held a grouping and the closer she came to the photographs, she more her skin crawled.

  One after the other, she found nothing until the last one. She narrowed her eyes then pulled the entire frame back to the light. She was shaking all over as she eased the other picture from her pocket. The moment she placed them side by side, she bit back a yelp. There it was.

  Crack!

  The noise came from nowhere. Everywhere. Fear slithered down the back of her legs and she jerked her head up, blowing out air in an effort to keep from moaning or issuing any sound. She quickly turned off the light and a rush of air seemed to float all around her, a sizzling noise as if lightning was flashing.

  Her body jerked forward, pushing
her hard against the desk as the vision rushed up from the pits of Hell, swirling and fuzzy, rolling in slow motion.

  She gripped the edge and concentrated, trying to capture and understand what she was seeing. The face was different, one she didn’t recognize and…

  Crack! Whoosh!

  No. No! As the face came into full view, she panicked, stumbling toward the door. She had to get out of here. She had to get to safety. Her air supply seemed cut off as she raced to the elevator and could hear someone behind her. He was there. He was following her.

  He was going to kill her.

  “No.” She ran toward the stairs, slamming open the door and racing into the stairwell, hugging the cold wall. With every step, every few feet, she could hear him behind her. Echoes. Thumps. He was coming for her. Again. Not again.

  By the time she made it outside, she could no longer hear anything but the beating of her heart. She managed to get inside her car, slamming and locking the doors, but dropped the keys. Calm down. Breathe. Finally, able to jam the key into the lock, she turned the ignition and jerked the gear, roaring out of the parking lot before bothering to look in her rearview mirror.

  This had to end. No, this was just beginning.

  Remember…

  He watched as her car screamed out of the parking lot and eased from the shadows of the protected alcove, his thoughts drifting. As he looked up at the building, he realized that whatever she’d seen had scared her to death. He grimaced and rubbed his jaw before heading for his truck. There was no rush. She was nothing if not predictable. He would take this slow and easy, enjoying the moment of attack.

  Grinning, he climbed into his truck, turning over the engine and sitting for a few seconds, contemplating. He knew what to expect from the local police department. After checking his watch, he calculated his time then drove out of the parking lot, finding a local country station. He whistled as he drove, heading in the direction.

  A quick glance over at the passenger seat gave him another smile. He had everything he needed. While he wanted this to be slow, agonizing, he realized there was more work to do. Tonight, was just the beginning.

  The afternoon light was waning, giving way to a series of dark and ugly clouds. He could sense another storm brewing, a violent thunderstorm. Perfect. He adored the thunder, the way the rain blanketed everything in its path, allowing a turbulent but very special peace. This would be the perfect cover, as if he needed one.

  He drove under the speed limit, enjoying he drive. She had no idea what was about to come, what kind of role she’d played since the beginning. She was a prize, one to be cherished. She was something special.

  In the next several minutes, he fell into his zone, maneuvering the truck through the winding streets until he reached his destination. The lights were already on and no doubt, she’d found the gift he’d left for her. He cut the engine and eased back into the seat. The time would be right soon.

  Very soon…

  Cassandra sat frozen in her seat, terrified of going inside. She remained ice cold, her thoughts drifting, her imagination reeling. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

  Boom!

  The roll of thunder made her yelp and she jerked her head to glare out of the driver’s seat window. The afternoon sun had given away to ominous clouds, already creating a series of shadows in front of her house. She clenched her purse, hugging the leather bag to her chest, and breathed in and out, doing everything to stop the near panic attack. She couldn’t help Zach if she was incapacitated. After counting to three, she opened the door and eased onto her driveway. Her thoughts drifted to the Indian Chief. His warning had been cathartic. If only she’d known what he’d been trying to communicate.

  None of her suspicions had been correct, but she knew the truth was buried in her paintings.

  Boom!

  Another crack of thunder made her move quickly to her front door, unlocking and inching inside. She stood huffing, catching her breath until a slight smell drew her attention. What in the hell was she detecting?

  The living room light indicated nothing but the moment she walked into her kitchen, allowing the garish light to flood the room, she fell against the wall, sliding down until she was on the floor.

  The letters were in block writing, oversized and covering the top half of her kitchen wall. Written in red, she suspected given the smell the substance was blood.

  Remember…

  She covered her ears as they started to ring, every sense in her body on high alert. Remember. Remember. Remember. The little voice inside her head chastised, laughing, daunting her to see into her past, to accept what she no doubt had already known. Refusing wasn’t the answer, but she was terrified to accept the truth, the strangling knowledge that had no doubt always been with her.

  Struggling to her feet, she moved to within inches of the writing, studying the way the letters were written. The warning was not only for her, but for Zach, as if he didn’t already know. Then again, did he? From what Mitchell had told her, there was no way for Zach to know the truth. Not yet.

  She jumped when a flash of lightning crested across her window, the memory of her time spent with the wonderful man a bittersweet concept. Would they ever be able to enjoy sharing their love again? No. She couldn’t think this way. She had to find the final answers, to free both of their souls before they were permanently pulled into damnation.

  Dropping her bag, she headed straight for her studio. While her emotions rolled, highs and lows of rage and desperate sadness, there was so much more. She would find the remaining answers. She would save them. She would…

  The paintings had been moved. She was certain of it. The person infiltrating her house had known what he was looking for. Snarling, she moved to the first group, glancing up and down each one as her rage increased. Once she was done searching, she pulled a painting free, tossing it across the room. They no longer meant anything to her but reminders of death and despair.

  One after the other, she pulled them free, trying to find what she was looking for. When she was near the back, almost to the last painting, she held her breath. Two of the paintings reminded her of the man in the picture. How in the hell had she not seen the resemblance before? How had she been so stupid?

  Crack! Boom!

  The storm was approaching and as the rain began to pelt against the windows, she tingled all over, electricity shooting through every cell. She was covered in goose bumps, hair on the back of her neck standing on end. She slapped her hand over her mouth and moved closer. When she inched even closer, her hand whisked against the painting of Zach, but now she knew she’d drawn someone else. As the cover began to fall, revealing a change in the textures, the colors and in the painting, itself, she became aware of a presence.

  Turning slowly, she pressed her hand over her mouth as a scream bubbled up from her throat.

  “We meet again.”

  Wham!

  “When you leave here, do not talk to anyone and I mean anyone about this case. Go home. Stay home and do not answer your phone. Do you understand what I’m telling you, Mr. Goodman?” The voice was hushed, speaking so only Zach could hear.

  Zach nodded as he was led through the police station. Taylor Williams was the best criminal defense attorney in town and a man Mitchell trusted. As he was led to the back door, he thought about nothing but Cassandra. “I’m worried about Ms. Jeffries. I think someone is going to try and hurt her.”

  “I’ll talk to her and try and convince her to go stay with a friend or at least a hotel until we can figure out what the hell is going on. You don’t need to worry about her. Trust me. With the evidence they have on you, this case is not going to go away easily. You’re fucking lucky we were able to get you out on bail.” Taylor nodded to Mitchell. “Keep him with you. The Press is already outside, waiting. Nothing is to be discussed.”

  “I need my gun,” Zach muttered.

  “No, you don’t! I don’t know what you can’t get about the situation you’re in, Mr. Goo
dman and you should for Christ’s sake!” Taylor huffed.

  “I’ll keep him away from the Press and out of harm’s way,” Mitchell said under his breath. “You just do the job I hired you for. We don’t need this, and Zach is innocent of these ridiculous charges.”

  “I’ve seen the amount of Press. This is already getting out of hand,” Camden stated then looked around the precinct. “We need to get a handle on this.”

  “Let it go. I need to get out of here,” Zach said under his breath. He was no longer in any state of shock, merely angry at the fact he’d allowed himself to fall into this trap. Thank God, Mitchell had been able to locate and hire the attorney, but he knew this was the least of his problems. There would be more.

  “Come on. The car is just outside.” Mitchell guided him to the door.

  Camden flanked his other side.

  Zach nodded and as the door was opened, he winced seeing the number of television stations and cameras, all eyes on the monster from Rush Enterprises. He was damn glad both of his best friends were with him. As the cameras rolled and the microphones were shoved into his face, he fell into a trance. What little Mitchell had told him meant the game was far from over.

  “Mr. Goodman. Do you have anything to say about the victim?”

  “I understand you knew her from a kink club?”

  “What is your relationship with the victim?”

  The questions came fast and furious. Blinking, Zach performed as required, remaining stoic and quiet.

  “Can you tell us about your involvement with the BDSM community?” The female reporter shoved her way in front, her eyes open wide.

  “We have no statement to make at this time. Thank you,” Tyler said, his voice clipped, as he moved in front of Zach, Camden and Mitchell, blocking the onslaught as the reporters followed them into the parking lot.

  The rain was coming down and as Zach looked up, watching the patterns of lightning, he was shaken, a single image popping into his mind. Frozen, he had to be pulled toward the car. “Shit.”