Too Familiar (Fear Familiar Book 2)

by Carolyn Haines

  “I commend you on doing it well,” Cassandra said. “There was one point there when I thought they were going to rise out of their chairs and burn me at the stake.”

  Martin laughed. “Not a chance. I haven’t lost a guest yet.”

  “Thanks for the invitation, but I have to decline. Adam and I both are very busy.”

  “Trying to solve the murders?”

  “Yes,” Cassandra said.

  “I know what you said on the show, but can you really identify the killer?”

  “Mr. West, I’m exhausted, and I want to go home.” She brushed past him. Adam was standing at the door, and she wanted only to get to his arms before she collapsed.

  “Sure about that drink?” Martin asked. “I’m certain you’d love to meet my girl.”

  “Another time.” Cassandra was too tired to be mad at Martin for his outrageous behavior. Too tired and too worried. The expression on Adam’s face boded no good. “Goodbye, Mr. West.”

  Adam signaled to her and she hurried in his direction. “How’s Bounder?” she asked.

  “Beaker took him into custody. He and Billy and Stalker have been charged with murder.”

  18

  “What can we do?” Cassandra tried to sit up, but Adam’s hand firmly pressed her back down into the soft pillows of her bed.

  “Nothing for now. Bounder is fine. So are the other two. Even Running Stream is taking this better than you.” Adam pulled the quilt around Cassandra’s shoulders. There were dark circles under her eyes. Lack of sleep and the frantic pace she’d been keeping were about to make her sick. “If you’ll sleep for three hours, I promise I’ll have a lawyer flown in from Michigan. A good lawyer. A personal friend. I’ll get on the phone and make the arrangements while you sleep.”

  She was too tired to argue, but there was so much to be done. For all of her brave words on The Martin West Show, she was afraid. She’d directly challenged the killer—and set herself up as bait. Even Sheriff Beaker had called her actions foolish.

  She reached up to brush a curl of hair from Adam’s forehead. He was tired too, but he wasn’t going to admit it. He’d been so angry at her actions on the TV show. Yet he’d sat with her discussing the most likely suspects. Adam had settled on Gatlinburg’s mayor, Ken Simpson, as the chief suspect.

  There was something odd between Simpson and the sheriff, and Simpson was unnaturally afraid of Cassandra. He was physically strong enough, handsome enough. Egotistical and mean enough too. Sighing, she snuggled deeper under the covers. He was the most promising suspect. Adam had agreed that they would tail Simpson all night long—if she slept for a few hours.

  It was late afternoon, and she had time for a nap. She burrowed down in the pillows as Adam lightly rubbed her forehead. The headache had set up housekeeping there two days earlier and showed no signs of leaving. After her herbal cures had failed, Adam had even prevailed on her to take two over-the-counter painkillers—he was a terribly persuasive man. A smile touched her mouth.

  “Adam, can I ask you one more question?” She kept her eyes closed.

  “No. Go to sleep.” He kissed her eyelids softly. He wasn’t surprised when Familiar jumped up on the bed and proceeded to curl up beside Cassandra. He stroked the cat’s velvety fur.

  “It isn’t about any of this.” She circled one arm around the cat and pulled him closer.

  “Okay, shoot.”

  “Did you make some calls to Washington, D.C.?”

  “What are you talking about?” He thought for a moment that she was rambling in a half sleep.

  “I got the phone bill. There are some strange calls to Washington, D.C. The person didn’t talk but a minute at the most. I don’t know.” She shrugged beneath the quilt. “I didn’t make them, and I wondered if you did.”

  “No, not me.”

  “I was just curious,” she said. Sleep stretched out and touched her, luring her down into a cool, peaceful place. “I was just curious,” she repeated as she fell asleep.

  Adam kissed her cheek very softly before he got up and went to the telephone. His old college roommate, John Effinger, was one of the best criminal attorneys in the United States. And John wouldn’t mind a trip to the mountains, especially not for a case involving a young man such as Bounder.

  Adam picked up the phone and started his calls. It was a slow process, finding Effinger and working out the scheduling necessary to get the lawyer to the Tennessee mountains. An hour passed, and then two. Adam made the final arrangements while Cassandra slept.

  * * *

  “Cassandra!”

  The man called her name, and beneath the quilt, Cassandra struggled. She knew that voice, but she couldn’t see. It was so dark, and she was being held by thick water. She tried to move, but her arms and legs were too slow.

  “You thought you were so smart, didn’t you? Do you know where you are? Eagle’s Roost. I see you know the name. Too bad you never realized what it meant. I named it myself when I was here one evening. I’d come to watch you. I’ve been watching you for some time, but I never thought I’d have you here. Not you. You were always so elusive, so distant, and cool.

  “But a strange thing happened when I brought that first woman here. She showed me that I could have any woman I wanted. Completely have her in a way that no one else could. With my bare hands, I could possess her life. I could make her go away, and believe me, a woman will do anything you want if she thinks she’s going to go away.”

  Cassandra could see the outline of the man. He stood away from her, talking into the darkness of the night. She knew him. She knew him so well! Who? Her arms and legs were powerless, and so was her brain. She was like a fly in a web, caught and held, unable even to struggle.

  On the edge of the dream, someone else stepped forward. It was a woman.

  Cassandra struggled to wake up. She didn’t want to watch. No more! She tried to cry, but she was paralyzed. She had to watch the woman in the dream. She had to look at her, but she was more afraid than she’d ever been in her life. She was too afraid to move.

  “You know you’re going to die.” The man held two glasses of champagne in his hands. “There’s no escaping now. No one to help you. Adam is dead. Your little Indian friend is in prison. There’s no one at all.

  “The others went fast, but not you. You said I was vain, egotistical, insecure. Those weren’t nice things to say. If JoAnn had heard them, she might have been frightened.” His laugh was perfect.

  “But I made sure she was safe. I always meant to kill her first, and then you. But she was so flighty, and you were so interfering. I decided today, what difference does it make which one goes first? None. Not a bit. So if you’ll just hold still while I take a tiny little souvenir.” He put the glasses down and withdrew a pair of scissors from his pocket. “One snip, just to remember you by.”

  Cassandra’s hands clutched the quilt. It weighed a ton, and it was wet and cool. She knew the woman in the dream. She knew when she looked at her, she would see herself. She was going to die. She could almost feel the killer’s hands around her throat. She could feel the life squeezing out of her, but she could not move.

  * * *

  Adam thought he heard Cassandra murmur, but when he looked in on her, she was motionless, her eyes closed. He finished his call and had barely put the telephone down when it rang again. He picked it up and answered in a hushed voice so he wouldn’t disturb Cassandra.

  “Mr. Raleigh, this is JoAnn Reed. I have to talk with you right away.”

  Adam’s fingers clenched a fraction of an inch tighter. “Can you come up to Ms. McBeth’s home? We’d both like to talk with you very much. Who have you been seeing, JoAnn? We have to have a name.”

  “I can’t talk now. Someone is following me, and I think they want to hurt me. Meet me at Clingman’s Dome. You know the place?”

  “It’s in the national park, but I can’t meet you right now, JoAnn. Ms. McBeth is not feeling well.”

  “This is my life!” JoAnn’s voice
was distraught. “Someone is trying to kill me. If you can’t meet me, then forget it!”

  “Wait!” Adam walked to the bathroom and checked Cassandra’s figure through the open door. She was still in bed, still resting. He’d leave a note and risk it. “Okay, Clingman’s Dome. Give me time to get there.”

  His only answer was the click of the telephone.

  For several seconds Adam debated what to do. Finally, he penned a quick note to Cassandra, telling her that he’d gone to Clingman’s Dome to meet Jo Ann. He told her to wait in the house until he returned. As a final precaution to keep her from jumping the gun without him, he took her car keys. With a last glance into the bedroom, he propped the note against the phone and hurried out. He didn’t see Familiar, his back arched, standing at the foot of the bed, hissing as Cassandra’s face contorted with fear.

  * * *

  She had to wake up. She knew she had to escape the dream before she confronted her own image. She knew the man. If she could only get away from the dream and think, she’d be able to identify him. If she could only wake up.

  A fiery pain shot through her right hand. It was potent enough to jolt a reaction from her useless muscles, and her hand jerked. The pain intensified until she had to see what was hurting her. The dream faded slowly, like thick syrup trickling away. She was breaking through the surface, into the air—into a throbbing, burning inferno where her right thumb used to be.

  When she finally blinked her eyes open, she focused on Familiar, his mouth around her thumb, his sharp teeth embedded. His amber gaze locked with hers, and he slowly released her. Trickles of blood had spotted the quilt, and her entire hand was throbbing.

  “The dream,” she whispered. Her head was pounding, and she felt as if she might die of thirst. It was the worst dream yet. She’d seen her own image, a shadow woman who showed her her destiny. She reached her left hand over to pat Familiar’s head. “Thanks, buddy. If you hadn’t waked me up, I might have died in my own dream.”

  Weak but determined, she got out of bed and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. She registered Adam’s absence, but her head was pounding so severely, she couldn’t think. Holding the water, she slipped into a kitchen chair and tried to focus.

  Where was Adam? Had he gone to get his friend, the lawyer? She struggled to her feet and went to the den. She saw the square of paper by the phone and went to get it.

  JoAnn was at Clingman’s Dome, and she’d called Adam. Her mind was clearing, and the warning bell of danger tolled loudly. Why Adam? Why at Clingman’s Dome? It didn’t make any sense. And Adam, always gallant, had gone off to rescue JoAnn. Because that was what she, Cassandra, would want.

  There was no time on the note, but Cassandra dressed and began to hunt for her keys. She couldn’t find them anywhere. Adam had retrieved her car from the Blue Ridge, but had he taken the keys with him? She dumped her purse onto the floor and began the process of going through the contents.

  No keys. She was pushing the assorted junk back into the purse when the phone rang. Leaning across the floor, she pulled the receiver to her ear.

  “Ms. McBeth, Martin West here. The piece we did on you was so exceptionally well received, we’d like a brief follow-up. Have you decided to reveal the identity of the killer?”

  “No.” Cassandra was ready to slam the phone down. “I don’t have time for this.”

  “I’d be glad to come to your home and talk. I could bring a camera crew.”

  “On one condition.” Cassandra was thinking fast. “Come and get me. I need to run an errand, and then I’ll give you an interview, okay?” Martin West, that posturing star, was the last person she wanted to see, but he had a vehicle, and that’s what she needed.

  “I’ll be there as quickly as possible. Don’t go away.”

  Cassandra felt a twinge of guilt. Martin sounded truly excited to get another interview. Well, she’d make it up to him later. Now her concern was finding Adam. A fragment of the dream lingered, tormenting her with her inability to remember the entire thing. The killer had said that Adam was dead. She remembered that, but the headache had intensified a hundredfold, and her brain refused to function beyond the basic survival instincts. She had to think. She had to remember. And she had to do it fast, because she knew that Adam was in danger.

  She scribbled a note, just in case Adam should return, or Running Stream show up. Bounder was in the county jail and bond hadn’t been set yet. It was ludicrous that Beaker was accusing the young Indian men of the murders, but Cassandra’s hands were tied. Any attempt to reason with Beaker would only make it hard on Bounder, Stalker, and Billy.

  Luckily, the sheriff hadn’t found out about the young men’s plans to terrify tourists with explosives. The materials Bounder said were in the cave had completely disappeared.

  Bounder had sworn to his mother that he’d intended to thwart Billy and Stalker, if they’d ever actually gotten off the ground with their idea. Bounder had realized all along the plan was long on romantic illusion and short on practicality. He was the safeguard between big talk and action.

  She drummed her fingers on the phone, checking the time again. Martin should be there soon. Even though walking made her head feel as if it would burst, she paced the room. From his perch on the sofa, Familiar watched her.

  There was something about the cat that brought her up short. She stopped pacing and turned her full attention to the feline when she heard the sound of a car.

  “Watch the house. I’ll be back as soon as I find Adam. If there was some way you could drive, Familiar, I’d put you on the trail of Ken Simpson right now.”

  She didn’t wait for an answer, but hurried out the front door into the gathering darkness of the April night.

  “Where are we going?” Martin asked. “I told the crew to meet me at your house.”

  “That’ll have to wait. Adam may be in danger.” She buckled the seat belt. “I need to get to Clingman’s Dome as soon as possible.”

  “Sure,” Martin said as he wheeled the car around in a circle in the grass. “We’re off.” He smiled at her. “Where’s your little convertible? I love those cars. I usually drive mine, but I decided against it.” He made light conversation as he drove.

  “I thought you’d be upset.” This certainly wasn’t the hard-hitting talk show host of a few hours before. He actually seemed like a nice person.

  “Not at all. It can wait.” He glanced at her. “I’m a very patient man. You’ll see.”

  “Thanks, Martin. You’re being a lot more decent about this than I expected.” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the headrest for just a moment. If the throbbing would only let up for five minutes, she might be able to think.

  * * *

  A gentle breeze ruffled the new green leaves, shimmering over the valley like a whisper. Adam was at the scenic overlook JoAnn had indicated. He paced the overlook. She was already ten minutes late.

  Several cars had passed, all with families. For some reason, the sight of the parents and their smiling children made Adam feel anxious. Would he ever have a chance to vacation with Cassandra and their children? For the first time in his life, he saw something he wanted and wondered if it might be out of his reach.

  The sound of a car approaching halted his pacing, and he assumed his position by the door of his car. This had to be her. She could kick or squeal or fight. He intended to get her in his car and get her back to Cassandra’s house. She could sue him later. This time he was going to hem her up and keep her safe.

  There was a sharp bend in the road that blocked his view of the oncoming car until it was almost on top of him.

  The sound of the tires gave him his first clue of impending danger. The rubber squealed as the car attempted to hold the road on the sharp curve. It was coming at a fast pace. Instinct made him react. He had started away from the car, heading for the safety of a big boulder, when the black Towncar whished around the curve and into sight. The darkened windows completely hid the driver, but Adam
didn’t have time to look. The car was headed straight at him. Caught in the open, he had no place to go.

  The heavy car was barreling down on him when he made the decision. Stretching as long as he could, he threw himself over the edge of the overlook. For a span of time that seemed an eternity, Adam felt as if he flew. When his body struck the first treetops, he clutched desperately in an effort to break his fall. A million thoughts whirled through his head, but the one he remembered was Cassandra’s description of the day her father had fallen and died. So, this was what she felt, this total loss of control.

  Adam’s head struck leafy branches and then a trunk. He felt nothing else.

  * * *

  “We should have done this a long time ago.” Ken Simpson leaned his hands on the low stone wall that had been built to keep drivers from flying off the overlook. There was no sign of Adam Raleigh’s body. With any luck, he’d be halfway down the mountain where not even the buzzards would be able to find him.

  Now there was only the woman left. Cassandra. Mountain witch. It was almost over.

  * * *

  “Hey, you missed the turn to the road,” Cassandra said. She’d opened her eyes when she felt the car bump off the driveway and into the undergrowth.

  When Martin didn’t respond, Cassandra sat up. “Martin, you’re off the road.” She couldn’t tell if his vision was poor, or if he was deliberately maneuvering the car.

  “Don’t worry, Cassandra, I know a shortcut.”

  The taste of tart apples suddenly filled her mouth, a taste she hadn’t experienced since her father’s death. Her head turned slowly, slowly, as she looked at Martin. For the first time, she saw his hands on the steering wheel, and she knew them from her dream.

  “It’s you,” she said.

  “Don’t sound so shocked, Cassandra, I thought you knew all along. That’s what you said on television.” He gave a charming, practiced laugh. “You shouldn’t make claims you can’t fulfill. From what I hear of local gossip that was something your mother did, too. I think it drove poor Ken Simpson to complete madness. She caught him stealing tools from your shed. Of course, your mother couldn’t let it go as simply that. She had to imply that she knew he was stealing through her psychic powers. And she threatened to expose him as a common thief. Name and honor are important things to a young man, especially one with political aspirations. How unpleasant it would be for Ken if the people of Gatlinburg found out that his career as a thief began in grade school.”