by Deborah Camp
With a wry chuckle, he closed the laptop and grabbed his keys off the table. “I’m already regretting this.”
###
Traffic was light on I-55 and the sun was shining, melting the last small patches of stubborn snow from the side of the highway where it had been piled up by plows. Settled back in the leather seat of Levi’s rented midnight blue Corvette, Trudy listened to the purr of the engine and the music drifted from the stereo speakers. The radio was tuned to an oldies station and the BeeGees were asking “How Deep Is Your Love?”
She turned her head to look at the man she loved with every beat of her heart. That was a song lyric, too, she realized and smiled. But her smile was brief when she noticed that Levi’s expressive mouth had dipped down at the corners and a worry line creased his forehead.
“Are you thinking about everything that happened yesterday?” she asked, and he blinked and glanced at her. “You look worried. Did you talk to Dr. McLain?”
“Yes, of course.”
“And she said . . ?”
“She’s encouraged by my progress – as am I.”
“But you’re frowning,” Trudy noted.
His frown deepened, and when he glanced at her again, Trudy saw trepidation in his sapphire eyes.
“When I tried to channel Rachel for you . . .” His whispery voice trailed off to nothing.
“To make sure she was still among the living. You said you couldn’t reach her. She wasn’t there.”
“That’s right. Gregory came to me while I was channeling and he brought someone with him.”
“Oh, no. Not Ethel again!” She covered her gaping mouth with her fingers for a few seconds as she recalled the only other time Gregory had brought along another spirit – her own spirit guide Ethel, who had delivered a timely clue that had led Levi to identifying the serial killer they’d been trailing.
“No, not Ethel,” he said, chuckling under his breath. “Seeing her again wouldn’t have shaken me up. I have a fondness for Ethel.”
She regarded him, watching the momentary mirth slide away and the frown line reappear on his forehead. “Who did he bring with him this time?”
“Becky Landers.”
Her breath swept down her throat so fast that it made her cough. Eyes watering, Trudy stared at him. Becky! The girl who’d been murdered! “Why did he do that? What did she say?”
He propped his elbow against the door and wearily rubbed his forehead and temple. “I don’t know why he did it. I was so shocked and . . . I snapped out of it. So, I don’t know what she wanted or why she was there.”
“And you haven’t contacted Gregory for an explanation?”
“No.” He focused on passing a couple of slower cars and then reached out to turn off the radio. “Do you mind? The music is giving me a headache.”
She watched the passing farm land and small dots of houses she could spy in the distance while she sorted through what he’d told her. Becky Landers had been the first domino to fall. Her death had tipped off year after year of neglect and abuse for him. Gregory knew this and must have brought Becky forward to help Levi along the healing path. “You should ask Gregory about it, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” he said on a long, fretful sigh. He massaged his temple some more, his middle finger circling slowly, persistently. “I was thinking that I would after we put this case behind us.”
“Hopefully, that will happen today – tomorrow at the latest.”
“I’m all for that. You have no idea how glad I’ll be to put Cotton, Missouri behind us.”
“Oh, I think I do have an idea,” she said, leaning closer to kiss his jaw. “Every day I’ve been on this case has been one day too many. It’s really wearing on my nerves, too. I mean, I want to find Rachel. I need to find her. But I’m an emotional wreck and I feel so guilty for dragging you into this quagmire.”
“I need to get away from him.”
Knowing full well who he was referring to, Trudy nodded. “I’m proud of the way you’ve handled yourself through this, Levi. It shows how strong you are and how much progress you’ve made.”
“Thanks.” He glanced sideways at her. “But I have a long way to go, Trudy. I don’t want you to labor under the impression that my breakthrough means I’m no longer a textbook case of a man suffering PTSD.”
A shiver skated down her spine. Post-traumatic Stress Disorder. Linking that to Levi made her heart hurt. But, of course, he was right. His trauma had begun when he was eight and had continued until . . . when? After he’d returned from college in England . . . or even after that. The months he’d spent as an older woman’s sex toy was certainly evidence of a man whose moral compass was off-kilter. Then he’d gone on a drinking binge and had admitted to her that he’d been on his way to being an alcoholic or dead. Quintara had saved him from himself. That was when his life had taken a turn toward mental and spiritual health and that was only a few years ago.
“The road we’re supposed to turn onto should be coming up,” he said, breaking into her thoughts. “We’re about two miles outside Cape.”
She glanced at the car’s digital clock. They’d been traveling for almost two hours. Levi switched lanes and eased off the accelerator. A convenience store came into view and Trudy gasped.
“That’s the store I saw him go into! The one where he bought the ice cream and it had the poster of Rachel. We’re on the right track, Levi.”
Levi nodded and his jaw firmed. “It’s about time.”
Trudy relaxed in the bucket seat and the scent of leather wafted up to her. “Where do you rent cars like this? When I rent a car, I have a choice of a regular old sedan or an SUV.”
He smirked. “I have connections.”
“I hope the connection isn’t female.”
“Baby,” he chided, reaching across the center console to run the back of his hand down her cheek. “I’m spoken for. Very spoken for.”
She would have said something sweet and sassy back to him, but at that moment she caught sight of a turn-off up ahead. “There! That road! What does the sign say?”
He leaned forward, squinting. “Saw Creek Road. Yes, that’s it.” He downshifted and pulled the car onto the side of the highway.
“What are we doing?”
“We need to be clear about what we’re going to do and not do,” Levi said, stopping the car and letting it idle. When he swung his gaze to hers, his expression was stern. “We’ll approach the house slowly and keep well out of sight. We’ll see if we get any definite feelings about Rachel’s proximity or you might even be able to channel the kidnapper. If we feel good about everything, we’ll leave and connect with the sheriff or FBI. That’s the plan.”
Trudy nodded and resisted rolling her eyes – just barely. “Yes, sir,” she said, ladling on the sarcasm. “Your word is my command, sir.”
He narrowed his eyes and drew in a breath to say something to her, but then he looked past her and his face paled. Trudy heard the crunch of tires at the same moment and glanced over her shoulder.
Oh, no! Her heart sank and then careened back up to lodge painfully in her throat as her gaze locked with the squinty-eyed glare of a man who could have been Sam Hart, but wasn’t. He sat behind the wheel of a dark gray pickup truck that was barely moving as it passed them. Suspicion was written in every facet of his features.
“Damn it! That’s him,” Levi said under his breath. “Come here.”
Then his mouth crushed hers and his arms encircled her, pulling her halfway over the console and gearshift. Trudy managed a squeak of protest that went unnoticed as Levi continued to kiss her hard, pulling her body around so that her back was facing the windshield. When he finally let her go, she sucked in a breath and looked around, but truck was gone.
“Where’d he go?” she asked.
“He turned onto Saw Creek Road. He’s heading home.” Levi slammed the heel of his hand against the steering wheel. “I was hoping he didn’t see you long enough to recognize you, but he made us.”
Trudy fell back in the seat. “No shit, Captain Obvious! I mean, it’s not like we’re inconspicuous in this blue Stingray with a white racing stripe! We should have driven my Fiesta like I suggested. But, no! You don’t like to drive it. It’s beneath you.”
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and pursed his lips. “You finished? I hate to interrupt you when you’re on a bitch-roll, but we need a new plan because the one we had is worth spit now.”
She wanted to be mad at him, but his pouting, aggravated countenance was too adorable. Instead, she smiled and then giggled when he did a double-take.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, but the glimmer of humor sparkled in his eyes.
“Us. We’re hopeless at being private eyes.”
Staring straight ahead again, a grin poked at the corners of his mouth. “That’s because we aren’t law and order officers. I believe I’ve discussed that with you before. We’re mediums. We shouldn’t even be here. This business is for the FBI or sheriff’s department. Not us.” He threw her a quick, chiding glance.
Trudy kept grinning. “Yeah, well, I hate to interrupt you when you’re on a bastard-roll, but we need a new plan.”
He turned his face away from her so that she couldn’t see his megawatt smile, but she could see his reflection in the window glass. “Sassy witch. We should head back to Cotton.”
“No.” She balled her hands into fists and her smile evaporated. “Let’s go a little bit up the road. I want to see the house.” She clutched at his arm when he started to put the car in reverse. “Levi, wait! Where’s the harm? I want to see if I can tap into him or feel Rachel’s presence. We’re here now. Come on!”
He heaved a big sigh. “I don’t like it.”
“Levi, if he knows it’s us and he has her at the house, then he might try to move her . . . take her somewhere else before the sheriff can get here.”
He flexed his fingers on the shiny, wood knob of the gearshift and she could feel the cogs and wheels whirring in his brain. She knew she’d made her point when one corner of his mouth quirked in a wry grimace. “Sonofabitch,” he whispered, then shifted the car into first and steered off the shoulder and onto Saw Creek Road.
A little thrill danced up her spine as the car purred and bounced along the rutted surface that was so narrow that two vehicles would have had to hug the road’s edge to pass each other. Tree and brush limbs slicked along the sides of the Vette and sunlight dappled the hood and windshield. About a quarter mile along the road, the flash of dingy white sent a jolt up Trudy’s spine and she sat forward, eager for a better look. The house came into view. Levi hit the brake and the tires bit into the dirt and pebbles.
The small, clapboard house was in disrepair. Half of the roof tiles were gone and most of the paint had peeled off the porch and railings, leaving gray, splintered, bare wood. A makeshift wheelchair ramp covered the front steps. Several old cars sat rusting under trees near the house, keeping company with two broken down tractors. All around the house, things were rusting and rotting. Metal chairs, an old swing set, a wheelbarrow, shovels, rakes, broken flower pots, busted water hoses, crates, barrels, bags of trash, and a few television sets with shattered screens littered the property.
“What a dump,” Trudy murmured, taking it all in. The place gave her a creepy, dirty, depressed feeling. She tore her attention away from the sad excuse for a home to see what Levi thought of the place. Intensity radiated off him as he stared, unblinking, at the dilapidated house.
“This is the place,” he whispered. “Do you feel it, Tru? Can you sense the sadness, the fear?”
She whipped her gaze back to the house and focused all of her being on Rachel. A frantic, brusque energy answered her . . . it was him and he was in a frenzy.
Come on! Leave that! Shut up that crying or I’ll give you something to wail about! I’m tired of you being such a sob sister! Mama, I gotta go. They can’t find her here or there’ll be hell to pay and God’ll never forgive us for lettin’ Him down! I’ll take her to the hidey hole again.
“Yes,” Trudy hissed, her heart jackhammering and prickles racing over her skull and down the back of her neck. His thoughts were kinetic. “It’s him,” she whispered. “He’s running scared.” She realized that her eyes were tightly shut and she opened them, blinking rapidly as the world settled back into focus.
“There he goes with her,” Levi said, giving a nod at the house, cueing Trudy to turn around to see Moses with a blond girl in his arms, lumbering down the wheelchair ramp and across the yard of rusting debris, heading for the woods.
“That’s her! Rachel!” Relief and anguish tunneled through Trudy and she flattened her hands against the car window, feverishly wishing she could snatch the child from Moses Hart’s beefy arms. “He said something about a hidey hole.” She looked back at Levi. He had his mobile phone and was glaring at it.
“Fuck this!”
“What?” she jumped slightly at his outburst.
“The signal is too weak here.” He glanced around as if searching for a cellphone tower, then tossed the phone into her lap. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” he said, using his curt, take-no-prisoners tone of voice, accompanied by a darkening of his eyes. “You’re going to drive to the highway to get a good phone signal and call the sheriff and FBI. Tell them where we are and what’s going down. I’ll follow Hart. Got it?”
“Why am I driving and you’re following?”
“Because that’s how it’s going to be.” He glowered at her. “And we don’t have time to debate it. Just do it!” He was out of the car before she could form a comeback.
Trudy glared at his back as he sprinted around the rusting hunks of junk and headed for the woods. “Yes, sir, boss man,” she groused, climbing over the console and into the driver’s seat. She managed a tight turn-around in the yard. As she hit the gas to head for the highway, she saw a sour-faced, pudgy woman in a wheelchair emerge from the house.
“Mama,” she muttered. “Also known as Meemaw. Crazy, old crone.”
###
Why did it always turn out this way when he was with Trudy? Levi wondered as he tried to soft-foot it through dried leaves and twigs. Fortunately, the buffoon ahead of him sounded like a herd of elephants tromping through the brush, so it was unlikely he’d hear anyone following him. So, again, how did he end up walking straight into danger instead of waiting for the police or FBI to handle the actual apprehension of the unhinged person? And this only happened when he had Trudy along for the ride! It was as if he were being punished for falling in love.
You want the girl forever, Levi? the universe, angels on high, and the Supreme Entity chorused. You want to love, honor, and cherish the curvy, sexy, sassy, little witch? Very well. Then she will be placed in harm’s way every few weeks so that you can sweat bullets, think you’re having a heart attack, and throw yourself into the monster’s toothy maw with wild and utterly foolish abandon to make sure she stays in one piece.
He’d tracked down serial killers and murderers all by himself and never once put himself in danger doing it. Not until he partnered with the intrepid, talented Ms. Tucker did he find himself in precarious predicaments.
Every once in a while, a shuddering whine floated back to him. The kid. Scared out of her mind. Where the hell was he taking her? How far away was this hiding place that he—. His thoughts and strides skidded to a stop in the deep shade of the trees. Moses stood in a clearing with Rachel slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. A pile of rocks and a rectangle of bricks were all that were left of a house. Moses bent over, bracing a shoulder against a large boulder and shoved it a few feet across the ground, grunting loudly. He kicked at the leaves and twigs. Rachel squirmed and pummeled his back with her small fists.
“Let me down! I don’t want to go in there again!”
Moses applied the flat of his hand to her backside with a loud whack! “Quiet down!”
Levi closed the distance in five strides. Moses whirled
around to face him. He took a step back, his eyes widening.
“You hit her again and I’ll wring your scrawny neck,” Levi said, feeling his lips peel back in a snarl. “Put her down.”
Sobbing softly, Rachel craned around to look over her shoulder at Levi and tears streamed down her rosy cheeks. She sniffed, blinked at him, and then, to his complete surprise, smiled.
“I know who you are,” Moses said, his voice a deep bass. “You’re one of them charlatans that’s come here to feed on trouble like vultures picking at dead flesh. This girl belongs with us now. It’s been ordained by God Himself.”
“Has it now?” Levi tore his attention from Rachel and focused on Moses again. It was almost like looking at Sam. His face was slightly thinner than Sam’s and he might have more hair left on his head – other than that, the two men could have been twins. “What are you doing out here? You might as well let the girl go because the FBI will be here in a few minutes.”
“They didn’t find her last time and they won’t find her this time.”
“Put the girl down, Moses. Let’s you and me have a man-to-man talk.” He sensed a tender spot he could stick a knife point into. “Or are you a mama’s boy? Is that why you’re using the kid as a shield, sissy boy?”
Moses’ face infused with bright red and his eyes seemed to protrude from their sockets. “God will smite you, heathen! I know what you are. You’re the devil’s messenger. I’m doing God’s work. This child was a hindrance to the reverend and his wife. God said to take her from them and she would be His blessing to me and Mama.” He let Rachel slide down his body, but kept a hand plastered against her chest, holding her against his thighs. Her face was streaked with tears and dirt. Bruises bloomed on her neck, arms, and legs. A cut on her forehead had scabbed over. “She is a spoiled child, but she is learning to be a better servant to the Lord.”
Levi shook his head, slowly. Christ, the guy was truly a few eggs short of a dozen. He wanted to scramble the eggs he had left. Rachel squirmed and Levi sent her a smile and a wink. Her brown eyes lit up and she sniffed, but stopped fidgeting.