He knelt down beside her. “Sarah, angel, please look at me.”
He saw no tears. Her expression was blank. She stared at the horizon. He touched her arm; she pulled away. He sat down beside her, careful not to touch her. He wasn’t sure what to do, how to reach her.
After a few minutes, she spoke. “Do you think he’ll forgive me?”
He looked at her, not sure how to answer, and not sure what she meant.
“I killed Michael. Is murder forgivable?”
“Please, don’t do this. You’ve done nothing wrong—nothing. What happened to you isn’t your fault. You know that. Deep down inside, you know that Sarah. Don’t give in to this, please, I know you’re stronger than this.”
He had never seen such pain, such guilt. He could hardly handle the emotions bombarding him—rage of such intensity a scar formed on his heart. Tears fell from his eyes, and Sarah noticed them.
She reached up and delicately touched them, touched him. She gazed deeply into his tortured eyes.
“You love me that much?” she whispered.
He smiled, not because the situation was funny, but because he was relieved. “Sarah, you have my heart, my soul, and my very life right here in your hands. Can’t you see that? Don’t let what happened destroy our future.”
February 8th
arly the next morning, and despite a thick fog shutting down the airports, John brought Dr. Listten to Cliff House. They were shocked to find Sarah in such poor condition, and Dr. Listten quickly diagnosed pneumonia.
“What the hell happened?” John demanded.
She remembered the attack.” Steven explained. The lines on his face, and the tension coiled tightly through his muscles spoke volumes.
“I see.” John kissed Sarah’s feverish forehead. “Don’t worry, beautiful, he’ll pay.”
Dr. Listten hired a nurse, and, while Eddie and the Dun brothers provided security, John and Steven went to Seattle to arrest Gerald Kessler with the help of the Seattle Police Department. But Kessler made the task impossible when he vanished.
Steven called several times a day, but the longer making an arrest took, the more his rage grew. With Kessler on the loose, Sarah’s safety was still an issue. John alerted the Dun brothers, and now everyone, including Eddie, carried a gun.
With the help of antibiotics, a steady stream of hot soup, and Eddie’s incessant attention, Sarah began to heal physically, but mentally she had shut down. He never left her side, talking nonstop, whether he was reading her fairy tales, the funnies, telling old jokes, or begging her for a smile. The nurse was amused, and Sarah tolerant at the very least.
Sarah was sitting on the window seat, staring into space, lost in her thoughts. It was a place Eddie had trouble following her to, so he decided to try a new tactic.
Wearing a colorful beret, he brought in an easel and a paint palette and set it up across the room from her. She watched him curiously, but he seemed intent on his task. Once he had the placement right, he put his hands on his hips and glared at her.
“No, no, no!” He stomped toward her. “You must look out the window, toward the horizon.” He spoke in a horrible French accent. He gently touched her chin and shifted her gaze to toward the window. “Yes, that’s much, much better. I want the real you—the one lost in thought, ignoring the world. Now all you need is a tear on this cheek. And I’ve caught the true Sarah!”
She couldn’t help herself. She laughed.
“Really, I’m that pathetic?”
“Uh, yes. Hate to admit it, but worse!”
“Fine, give me that sketchbook.” He handed it to her and watched closely as she became herself once again. With each stroke of her charcoal pen, she relaxed, and a smile formed. She looked up at him and grinned conspiratorially. Every time he tried to see what she was drawing she covered her work. He waited and twenty minutes later, she presented the sketchbook to him.
He was the centerpiece, a hero with a sword, he had fought off demon after demon, they all lay dead at his feet, and an appreciative damsel in distress, Sarah, gazed with love and appreciation as she knelt to present him a bouquet of flowers in appreciation.
“Wow, thank you,” he said with pride.
“No thank you.” She got up and gave him a huge hug. “I’m back, no more gazing. I promise.”
And it was true. Sarah had found her worth and the will to put the past behind her and move forward.
During a game of poker with the nurse, Eddie, and the dun brothers, Sarah asked a favor. “On Valentine’s Day, I want to visit the church. I want to honor Michael on what would have been our fourth anniversary. Do you think it will be possible?”
“I don’t see why not but just to be safe, I’ll get permission from the boss.”
The Dun brothers nodded their agreement.
“You need a break, an excursion. What if I have Alexis join us? We can meet her in Port Angeles for dinner. I’ve never had two girls on my arm for Valentine’s Day. I’ll be the envy of every male in the state!”
He had not shared the news with Sarah yet, but Gerry might no longer be a problem. A body found in a burned out cabin in Snoqualmie Pass was awaiting identification.
“Lovely, thank you.”
Later after the game, Sarah explained to Eddie how Michael had made all the arrangements for their wedding. How he had asked Opal and Cecil to be the witnesses and arranged with the minister of the church in La Push to marry them. He had filled the church with carnations, her favorite flower. She pulled out the album with all the pictures.
“Michael said he would replace each flower with a diamond, and he kept his promise. He kept all his promises. The minister’s wife played the piano. We exchanged matching bands, and then we came here, to Cliff House. The wedding was beautiful, more beautiful than anything I’d ever imagined. Michael was a man who understood romance.”
She looked up with tear-filled eyes.
“I have no reason to feel sorry for myself, do I? I had a lifetime of love and happiness few ever experience. I need to count my blessings, not my losses. For the person to whom much is given, much is expected, and I’ve been given so much.”
He hugged her tightly. His friend, his sister, was going to be fine. Eddie had no doubt.
The next evening, right before the hour of her elopement, Sarah put on a white dress and heels, with a matching shawl around her shoulders. The nurse helped her do her hair: French braids, with carnations, similar to her wedding night. Eddie escorted her to the church, but he let her go in alone. He had listened carefully to her story, and, in honor of her visit, he’d had the church decorated just the way she’d described.
When she walked in, Sarah thought for sure Michael would be waiting at the altar. But the place was empty, so Sarah knelt at the altar and said a prayer. She lit a candle in his honor and then, sitting in the front pew, Sarah prayed for Steven. She asked for God’s forgiveness, and his guidance. She thought long and hard about the journey that had brought her to this point. She knew her life was on a new path, and she resolved to become stronger, to become a fighter, and to make up for all prior errors. Somehow, she had to turn her sorrow into something positive—there was no reason not to.
Suddenly, the door opened and a strong wind blew out most of the candles. She turned, and, with a smile on her face, she began to affectionately scold. “Eddie, the wind—”
But Eddie was not at the door—Kessler was. Sarah stood and faced her tormentor.
“I wasn’t invited to the first ceremony. And I wasn’t invited to this one, either.” He moved into the sanctuary. “Hello, Sarah. Well, aren’t you pretty? A bride ready to say her vows. I’ll have you know I came prepared. See? A license.” He held out a document. “Even have a priest.”
Sarah looked around the room. There was no priest, no one but her and him.
“Don’t worry my dear, I’ve been ordained. You can do anything online these days. I’ll preform the ceremony. Then we’re off on my jet for a fabulous honeymoon.”
>
She found her courage. “Where’s Eddie? If you’ve hurt him…”
“He’s fine. A little headache maybe, but he’ll live. I want all the men protecting you to live. How else will they know failure, or recognize their loss?” He tilted his head, and observed her carefully. “How were you planning to defend him? You look even weaker than the last time I saw you. What’s wrong? All this sexual activity getting to you? And, please, I just have to know, who’s the better man: Chase, Quaid, or me?” He chuckled and answered his own question. “Me, of course!”
The tall, gangly misfit suddenly had presence—the same look she now recalled the night he attacked her. Kessler had the look of a murderous brute, not the reliable brainy scholar who ran a multi-million dollar company. Sarah would never get over the contradiction, but she did not wait for him to reach her, and instead took off running. She was out the side door and in the parking lot near the car where she found Eddie, unconscious and hidden in the bushes. She knelt beside him. His head was bleeding, but she saw no other injuries. She wrapped her shawl around the wound, grabbed his cell phone, hit speed dial, and looked for the gun she knew he carried, but his shoulder holster was empty. She searched for the car keys.
Steven answered. “Eddie? How’s Sarah?”
“He’s here, Eddie’s hur—”
The phone went flying out of her hand when Kessler kicked it from her fingers. She felt as though he had broken several bones in her hand.
“No, no, no, Sarah. Let’s not bother Quaid. If my timing’s right, your hero’s still in Seattle. Didn’t he tell you? They uncovered my body, my lair, and there’s enough evidence there to keep him, and the entire Seattle police department, busy for months.”
He leaned down and grabbed her by the upper arm, raising her from the ground.
“Come, we have a date with destiny.” He meant to lead her away.
Sarah was not having it, though, and she planted her feet.
He turned toward her. “What? You want me to drag you? Because I sure as hell am not going to carry you.”
She had him where she needed him and kicked him in the balls, something she had wanted to do since their first fight. Her appearance fooled him—Gerry had never expected her to fight back. He went to his knees. Sarah ran to the woods and toward Cliff House. Sarah would have gone for the car, but Eddie still had the keys. She was well on her way, but she could hear Gerry behind her, screaming her name.
The heels of her shoes sank in the mud, so Sarah kicked them off and left them behind. She was glad her sprain had healed, and she was confident of her chances. Her white dress would never be white again, covered in Eddie’s blood and mud as it was, and now shredding on the brambles and branches that tore through the material like butter. She ignored everything, though, but the direction she was heading. The sun was just above the horizon, but the forest was dark. Sarah had several miles to go, but she was running for her life, and—unlike the girls in the movies—she moved with purpose and speed.
Still, he was getting closer, and she knew it. Sarah could hear him cursing, and the branches breaking as he slogged toward her. His strength and her lack was still a factor, would always be a factor when a large man and a small woman went head to head. She vowed to change that; somehow, she would become stronger, more able—provided she survived.
She wondered what Steven was doing, and the Dun brothers—they were supposed to follow her and Eddie. What if they were on their way to the church? She wondered if she should go back. They might assume he already had her, but as long as Eddie got help, her situation didn’t matter. She would see to her own safety. The entire situation was playing out just as the movies always do: where the monster had the upper hand. She was determined to defeat this villain.
She thought about leaving the woods and heading for the main road or the cleared fields, but giving up cover for the open just didn’t make sense. Sarah circled around her property, staying in the trees. She wanted to make him think she had gone to the house, but she planned to stay away from Cliff House. In the woods, she felt safer—felt as though she had options.
Suddenly, there, in front of her, was Cecil and Opal’s home, hidden by the trees. A safe place where she could rest, call for help, and possibly find a weapon. With a hidden key, Sarah let herself in. She took a few minutes to catch her breath and get used to the darkness. Two miles in—what, twenty, thirty minutes—through a muddy, overgrown forest was no small feat, and she was feeling it. Overcome by a coughing attack, she worked to calm herself, and tried to take some deep breaths, but the pain was too sharp.
She heard laughter—Gerry’s laugher. He was on the other side of the door. It was a heavy door that would not come down with just one kick, but still not strong enough to keep a determined assailant from getting to her.
Sarah realized he had stopped following her. He had come straight here—hell, he probably had time to go back to the church and get his car. How did he know? How could he know? She was disappointed in herself, but only for a moment. Think, Sarah, think.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Sarah. Predictable. So damn predictable. I can get in, but you can’t get out.”
Then come in and get me. She took off running up the stairs, and to the master bedroom. She locked the door, knowing how easy the door would come down. She went in to the bathroom, locked the door, knowing a fist could still take this door off its hinges. Sarah opened the window and waited, listening, to make sure he was in the house, before she escaped back outside.
She poured a bottle of shampoo on the floor. “See how well you can stand up after you hit this,” she said.
A loud explosion told her the front door was down, and Sarah scrambled through the window to the first floor roof.
“Sarah. Come out, come out, wherever you are!” A loud bang heralded the news that the bedroom door was down.
She quickly, but carefully, made her way across the wood shingles, to a point where she could shimmy down to the porch roof, and to the ground. She heard him kick in the bathroom door and allowed herself a smile when she realized the other sound was him falling on his ass. Curse words filled the air, and she knew he was at the window, looking for her or her trail. Sarah moved quickly.
Sliding down the support columns for the porch, she picked up several splinters. But bruises, broken bones, abrasions, and a few shards of wood would heal. Once she hit the ground, Sarah planned to run to the knoll and the old oak tree, her new hiding place.
Just as she landed on the ground, he came barreling through the patio doors. She thought of scooting closer to the porch, but she coughed again and Gerry heard her before he saw her.
He grinned. “Trying to hide, Sarah? A little difficult with that hack. You’re mine—just come along quietly, look at the mess you made of your wedding dress. But it’s all right, I’ll buy you a new one.”
Gerry moved toward her, she scrambled for her feet as he jumped from the porch grasping for her. He managed to grab the hem of her dress, but the fabric gave way, and he had nothing for his effort. Sarah was running again, but he was right behind her.
She knew the way in the dark and raced through the tall grass, but her body was no longer cooperating. Her lungs were inflamed. Her chest hurt with a pain so severe, she could barely breathe. Please, God, not now. Please let me get to the tree, up the tree, to somewhere he can’t reach me.
Sarah got to the tree, but, before she could raise herself to the lowest limb, he was on her, tackling her to the ground.
“After all that effort, and you still lose. You couldn’t come quietly. Tsk, tsk, tsk.” He clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Oh, well. Where we’re going, you won’t need clothes.”
He stood up, lifting her up by her upper arm, held her close, and marched her to the cliff’s edge. She gasped, desperate for air.
“My, my, my. Look at that view. This is the place. The famous knoll where Michael made love to you, held your hands, and planned the future.” He grabbed her hand. “And this, my dea
r, is where we’ll make love, hold hands, and plan our future, because something tells me we’re never going to make our flight now. But this was your choice. And, as we all know, what Sarah wants, Sarah gets.”
When he said the words make love, Sarah came out of the fog of defeat and fought. She knew she had lost the opportunity, but she planned to go out fighting. She elbowed him in the chest and backed away from him. He laughed, but did not let go of her hand. She was still his prisoner. She dug her toes into the wet ground. He had her by the wrist, and Gerry pulled. The same wrist and shoulder she had hurt in the accident, the hand he had kicked earlier. With a soft cast as her only protection, her wounded arm was now also her only link to the monster and to safety. She was in a tug of war, and her arm was the rope. He was ten times stronger and knew it. He played with her, like a cat teasing a mouse, amused by her anguish.
“Where’s your champion now, Sarah? Hey, Quaid, you better hurry or you’re going to miss the show!” He bellowed. “You’ll be long dead by the time he gets here. You know, if you quit fighting, we could just walk together into oblivion, just you and me holding hands and falling to the rocks below, a journey to hell, together.”
“Never!”
But he squeezed her fingers, twisted her wrist, using her weakness against her. The pain was too much, and Sarah was on the ground at his feet, struggling against the agony, fighting to get air into her lungs.
“You can’t win. You’re a woman. Women weren’t built to win, they were built to submit!” He bent down to pick her up, but a sudden movement caught his eye. Gerry stood up, and Steven hit him with a right hook that threw him back. He landed on his ass.
“Get away from her, you bastard. Stay away from her, or I’ll kill you with my bare hands.” Steven roared. He knelt next to Sarah, holstered his gun, and grabbed his handcuffs. “Stay down, Kessler. It’s okay, Sarah. Help is coming. Just let me take care of him.”
Sarah nodded.
“The hero!” Kessler calmly picked up his glasses, put them back on, and rubbed his chin. “What a surprise. How the hell did you get here?” Kessler got to his feet.
Murder, Madness & Love (Detective Quaid Mysteries #1) Page 28