Epiphany (Legacy of Payne)

by Christina Jean Michaels

  I sucked in a breath . . . then had the air knocked from me as I hit the ground hard. Dirt entered my mouth as I fought against the hands grabbing me. I spit it out and screamed at the top of my lungs, hoping to get the attention of the occupants in that house. So close, but so far away.

  He dug a knee into my spine, yanked my head back, and slipped a loop of thick rope around my neck. I retched into the dirt and in that moment the only person I thought of was Aidan. My despair gushed down my cheeks in salty tracks. I tasted them on my tongue as Aidan’s face flashed behind tightly-closed lids.

  “I’ve been waiting for this,” he said, his tone oddly normal, “much too long to let you get away.” He didn’t talk like a villain in a movie; there was no sinister undertone. He sounded no less menacing than the guy who bagged my groceries. “Just wasn’t counting on all the complications.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Instinct took over, and I rolled and kicked, but all I managed to do was attack air.

  He laughed. “I do enjoy the feisty ones.” He grabbed the rope and pulled, and I gagged as he hauled me along the water’s edge. He stopped long enough to push me into the lake with a muddy boot. I surfaced, sputtering water as I coughed.

  “Get up,” he ordered. Before I could so much as move, he tugged me up by the other end of the noose. I swayed and blinked away the stars in my vision. “You can walk, or I can drag you the rest of the way. Makes no difference to me.” His expression contradicted his words. He relished the thought of a fight.

  “I’ll walk,” I bit out through chattering teeth. He turned and yanked on the rope, and I stumbled behind him on shaky legs.

  This is it.

  The closer we got to the van, the closer I faced my death. I stalled when we reached the clearing. He tugged on the rope and propelled me across the gravel driveway, and I realized how isolated the location was. Trees cordoned off the area from the outside world, and through the thicket, I spotted a sliver of the glimmering lake.

  We approached a small cabin, and I panicked all over again. Not only did I recognize it from my dreams, but I knew with certainty that I’d never get out of there alive. I’d rather he strangle me now. He stopped to open the door, and I struck with my feet—the only means of self-defense he’d left me.

  My effort was ineffectual. His fist connected with my cheek bone. “You stupid bitches never learn.” He forced me inside, kicking and screaming the whole way, and the rope became a vise around my throat. I struggled for air as bright light flooded the cabin. I recognized the rustic architecture from my dreams—dreams that were worthless in hindsight. They hadn’t saved Six, and they weren’t going to save me now.

  He dragged me to a bedroom where I fell to my knees. “Get your ass on the bed.”

  “No,” I choked out. I’d fight him with everything I had.

  He jerked me up and pushed me to the mattress. I screamed again, squirming and kicking until something sparked and buzzed from the corner of my eye. Intense pain pulsed through every nerve in my body, and I howled in agony, louder than I thought possible until I couldn’t even do that anymore. Muscle spasms rendered me incapable of moving, of fighting him. He prodded me with the Taser again and again, and I was left disoriented and tied to the bed, spread-eagle and facedown after the last shock lanced through me.

  He sodomized Six.

  It was my only thought. I spewed bile onto the itchy blanket against my cheek as the bed dipped under his weight.

  “Don’t hurt me, Judd.” My voice sounded odd, as if a small child was the one doing the begging. I squeezed my eyes shut and cried into my vomit. Fabric ripped through the air, echoing in my ears. I bit into my lip and drew blood as he tore the last article of clothing from me.

  “I’m going to do more than hurt you, sweetheart. Foreplay first.” He brushed latex-covered fingers down my spine.

  My head spun with dizziness, and like the time I’d seen Aidan’s past, I now floated above a room I didn’t recognize, staring down at people I’d never seen.

  Except . . . the little boy, maybe eight or nine years old, looked familiar. He cowered at the feet of a balding man. Risking a glance up, his eyes pooled with tears. I recognized him as a younger version of Judd.

  “I’m sorry. I tried not to be bad.”

  I gasped when the man backhanded him.

  Rather than cry, the boy glared at him. “My daddy will kill you!”

  “You’re daddy isn’t around, is he? Even he didn’t want you.” The man clenched his hands. “Who would want a sinful, nasty little boy?”

  In a display of courage, the boy stood and hardened his gaze. “He’ll come back for me.”

  The man laughed. “Stupid kid. Your old man isn’t coming back, and your mom can’t help you either. Now repent for your sins.” He unbuttoned the front of his jeans, and I sobbed upon witnessing what happened next. The boy begged for his mother, and when she failed to come, he began to pray. I couldn’t stomach it. I crashed back into the present as Judd sparked a lighter to life.

  “I’m sorry he did that to you.”

  I felt him go still. “What are you talking about?”

  “You were just a boy.” My voice cracked, and even though he had me bound and was about to kill me, a part of me hurt for the younger version of him . . . the little boy who had no one to rescue him. “I saw what happened to you as a child.”

  The flame went out. “You what?”

  “Just now. I saw what he did.”

  “You didn’t see shit!” He tossed the lighter aside, and it hit the wall before dropping to the floor. “You’re just trying to stall, hoping to buy time so your knight in shining armor will rush in.” He laughed. “I’ve got news for you. He’s not coming. I made sure of that.”

  My body went numb. “What did you do to Aidan?”

  “Nothing you need to worry about. By the time they find him, this pretty little head of yours will be hanging.” He yanked my head back by the hair.

  I sobbed, overwhelmed with grief at the thought of him hurting Aidan. “Why are you doing this? What do you have against him?” The rope tightened around my throat. “Please—”

  “What’s that? Sounds like you’re beggin’ for something.”

  I shook my head and ignored the blinking lights in my vision. “Just . . . wanna . . . talk.”

  “No pillow talk tonight, baby. I’m gonna fuck you like a real man.”

  He shifted, and I heard the sound of a belt unbuckling . . . a zipper lowering. I coughed and fought for breath. The room spun, and I focused on the bright light coming through the window.

  Judd cursed and tightened the noose. I thrashed, my lungs burning for air as the weight of his body disappeared. A crash came from the other room, followed by another.

  “Where is she?” someone screamed. It sounded like Aidan, but that was impossible. I had to be hallucinating. More voices . . . the sound of breaking glass . . . then the promise of nothingness as the shadows infiltrated further, smothering the last speck of light. Finally, as my heart thumped to a slow drumbeat, I welcomed the darkness calling.

  28. Aftermath

  I was weightless, like an untethered kite soaring through the sky. I drifted upward, bounced on a cottony cloud, and dipped down to sit on it. An onyx void existed below, incongruent with the luminescence above. I was either having the most bizarre dream of my life—and that was saying a lot—or I was dead. The idea ricocheted through my mind, propelling me into motion. Avoiding the glaring brightness seemed of utter importance. I reached for the darkness and forged through the pain that rippled through me.

  Pain was good. Pain meant I could still feel. I became more aware of it the further I descended, and I wanted to scream, except I couldn’t get a sound past the crushing weight around my throat. My heartbeat pulsed in my ears, slowing with each passing second, and my will to cling to the darkness waned. I floated upward again, distancing myself from the agony even as cold fingers pried the vise from around my neck. An anguished voice called
out, “Breathe!” It was Aidan. I’d know his voice anywhere.

  “Mac, wake up!” Was that Joe?

  The pain receded and the voices became garbled background noise until they disappeared altogether. The scene shifted as I floated toward the light, and I found myself staring down into my own slate gray eyes. Sweat dripped down my face, and my complexion was as white as the sheet covering the table beneath me. Aidan stood to my side, though something was different about him. Contentment softened his face, drove the pain from his eyes. I jumped when my lips parted and expelled a long, animalistic sound—a cross between a grunt and a scream.

  Oh my God! What the heck was going on?

  My doppelgänger gripped his hand, using such incredible strength that her knuckles turned ash-white. Another scream tore through the air, and I was so transfixed that I failed to notice the doctor that rushed into the room until his bulky form blocked my view. Time shifted, appeared to matter no longer. More agonizing cries, growing louder . . . louder still. I squeezed my eyes shut and plugged my ears to block out the terrifying sound.

  When I opened my eyes, the scene below didn’t make any sense. The doctor laid a slippery newborn onto the stomach of the mother . . . me. The baby wailed; a symphony compared to the screams I’d heard just minutes ago. Tears brightened Aidan’s eyes as he gazed at the baby, and I was stunned when he leaned over and kissed the woman who looked so much like me but couldn’t possibly be me. Brothers and sisters didn’t have babies together.

  The vision faded as I crashed into inky blackness, and I wondered at the strange sensation of air rushing into my lungs.

  “Come on, dammit! Please, baby—” Aidan’s voice broke, and I felt another rush of air. “Breathe!”

  I coughed and gasped.

  “That’s it,” he murmured. “Come back to me.”

  “Is she breathing?” Joe’s voice was abnormally high, like he was a moment away from losing it.

  “She’s breathing,” he said. I wanted to reach for him when he pulled away, but I couldn’t get my arms to move. “Bastard’s gonna pay for this.”

  “Aidan!” shouted a third voice. “No!”

  Sirens blared, growing rapidly closer, and tires turned and slowed over gravel as footsteps pounded the ground outside. The third voice—the one I hadn’t been able to place—barked orders in quick spurts. “I’m going after them,” he announced.

  “No, we’ll handle this,” someone else said with authority.

  “My son’s out there!”

  “My point exactly. You’re too close to this.”

  Footsteps scurried around me. I coughed again and opened my eyes. Joe’s face swam above, and everything else blurred. People crowded the space as two of them loaded me onto a stretcher. They wheeled me into the chilly night, and the strobing lights of the emergency vehicles lit up the surrounding trees.

  I shut my eyes as the doors of the ambulance slammed, and the only thing that penetrated my consciousness was the blast echoing in the distance—as startling as a mortar on the Fourth of July.

  * * *

  I recalled my rescue in snippets, like vague, disjointed fragments from a long ago dream. Joe’s face, Aidan’s voice . . . more voices . . . sirens, flashing lights, and fireworks. Wait . . . fireworks?

  Obviously, my mind was as disorganized as my memories.

  “Ms. Hill?”

  My eyes fluttered open and landed on the woman the voice belonged to. She couldn’t have been much older than me. Her long, honey locks were pulled into a tight ponytail, and the white of her uniform was as blindingly bright as the light overhead. “Welcome back.”

  “How long have I been here?” Wherever here was. The room resembled a hospital room, yet the décor was warmer than I’d expect. Pictures of the ocean and the lighthouse hung on walls painted a deep crème.

  “You were moved up here about an hour ago. You became agitated in the ER, so they gave you a sedative. You don’t remember any of it?”

  “No,” I whispered, trying to keep my emotions under control.

  She patted my hand. “Try not to worry.” She took my blood pressure and frowned. “Can I get you anything?

  I shook my head.

  “The doctor will be in shortly.” She handed me a control attached to a thick wire. “Press the call button if you need anything.” I was grateful when she dimmed the lights on her way out.

  Yet the darkness brought a new onslaught of memories. Rope tightening around my neck as hands ripped the clothes from my body, and my panic at being unable to breathe. I swallowed a sob as I recalled the moment I’d given up—the moment I’d accepted death.

  Staring into the vacant hall through watery eyes, I imagined Judd strolling through the open doorway—imagined him finishing what he’d started. A bone deep chill went through me until every part of my body shook. Being alone was probably the last thing I needed right now.

  But where was everyone? Where was Aidan? I reached for the call button just as a doctor entered.

  “I’m Dr. Armstrong. How are you feeling?”

  “Confused . . . scared.” I wiped the moisture from my face.

  “It’s no wonder after the ordeal you went through.” She glanced at the chart in her hands. “With your consent, I’d like to start a rape kit.”

  My eyes widened. “I wasn’t . . . he didn’t . . .”

  Her expression softened. “Are you sure? You were unconscious when they found you, and the paramedics worried you might have been.”

  “I-I don’t remember being raped . . .”

  “Let’s collect some samples just in case, okay?”

  “Okay.” I raised my eyes to hers. “Can I see Aidan first? Aidan Payne? Where is he?” My heart pounded as I waited for an answer.

  She didn’t give one. She placed her hand on my arm and asked, “Are you up to speaking with Agent Kipp? She’s been waiting to get your statement.”

  “No,” I said without hesitation. The last thing I wanted was to deal with the FBI.

  “I’ll tell her to come back later then. I’m going to put in the order for the rape kit. In the meantime, someone’s been antsy to see you. Want me to send him in?”

  I nodded, eager to see Aidan’s face.

  “I’ll be back shortly.” She left, and a few moments later my visitor hurried in. But it was Joe, not Aidan, who stepped to my bedside.

  “Hey,” he said softly.

  “Where’s Aidan?”

  His face fell, though he recovered quickly enough. He collapsed into the chair next to my bed. “They wouldn’t tell me anything. I’ve been pacing the halls for the past hour.” He ran both of his hands through his hair. “Mac . . . I’ve never been so scared in my life. When we found you—”

  “How did you find me? And where’s Aidan? Judd told me . . .”

  “I’ve got news for you. He’s not coming. I made sure of that.”

  But he did come. I remembered hearing his voice. “What happened, Joe?”

  “I heard you screaming on the phone, so I went to the police. I followed the sheriff to Aidan’s place and we found him unconscious.”

  “But I heard him.”

  “He came to, and that’s when the sheriff found your drawing. He recognized the cabin. If not for that, we probably wouldn’t have found you in time. Shit, Mac, they found a tracking device on your car. Sicko was just waiting for the perfect opportunity to get at you.” He grew uncomfortable and avoided my gaze. He was holding back something. I was sure of it.

  “Just tell me.” A burning sting ignited behind my eyelids. “He’d be here if he could . . .” I inhaled sharply. “Please, Joe . . . oh God! Where is he?”

  “He went after Judd.”

  A loud blast echoed in my mind, a vague recollection of something I didn’t want to remember. “What happened?” I studied his expression and tried to keep mine from shattering. When he failed to answer, I pushed back the blankets and hopped from bed. The room spun around me, and I promptly fell into his arms and clung to hi
m.

  “Tell me,” I pleaded. “Tell me he’s okay.”

  “He’s in surgery right now,” he said, his voice so low I could tell he didn’t want to continue. “He tried to stop Judd from running, and he got shot.”

  I untangled from his arms and fell to the bed. Curling into the fetal position, I sobbed into my pillow. He was going to die, just like in my dreams. Joe’s voice rattled off more words, but I couldn’t hear him. He gripped my shoulders and gave me a shake.

  “Mac! The doctors are optimistic he’ll pull through.”

  “Go,” I moaned. He was worried about me enough to say anything if he thought it would help. I wouldn’t believe Aidan was okay until I saw it for myself.

  “Mac, please.”

  “I want to be alone.”

  I heard him shuffle away. “Your mom should be here soon. I heard Aidan’s parents are on their way too.”

  Hamilton. The thought of him angered me. I welcomed anger—it was easier to deal with than despair. “Joe?”

  He was back by my side in an instant. “What is it?”

  “Let me know when he gets out of surgery.”

  “Of course.”

  “Will you tell the nurses I don’t want to see Hamilton Payne?” I risked a glance up and took in the perplexed line of his mouth.

  “Okay,” he said slowly, nodding as if he understood when clearly he didn’t.

  I turned my back to him and hugged my pillow. He remained silent for a few moments before his quiet steps took him into the hall.

  I was emotionless by the time Dr. Armstrong returned, accompanied by the nurse who’d greeted me when I’d awakened. She pushed a cart in and closed the door, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at all the supplies on the tray. Instead, I kept my gaze fastened on the ceiling and prepared myself for what was to come.

  After it was over, I waited—for news about Aidan, for the doctor to tell me I hadn’t blocked Judd doing the unthinkable. She returned at dawn, and I pounced before she reached the side of my bed.