Terror and Temptation_A Romantic Suspense Novel

by Vella Day

  “Come,” came their command with such force, it startled him.

  Before he could ask his question again, his guides whisked his soul away. Fear shot to his heart as he glanced downward and saw his head bowed, and his fingers slowly stroking the soft feather.

  What the—?

  Wind rushed past him as if he were being pulled through a sci-fi wormhole. “Where are you taking me?” His voice cracked.

  “Don’t ask questions,” came the reply. The voice from beyond was different from the one who usually issued the spirit guide’s commands.

  In a flash, he was on a horse in a harsh, hot environment, the sun blinding him. Shielding his eyes, a vast desert stretched before him with no end in sight. No telephone poles, no homes, no highway, no people. Just an empty, hot desert.

  Heat burned his flesh, and the dust from the galloping horses clogged his nostrils. Derek grabbed onto the mane, desperate not to lose his balance.

  He looked around, his thighs straining against the magnificent animal’s flanks. What kind of place contained no evidence of life other than the horse beneath him and the men by his side? Could they have hurtled him into the past? Or perhaps the future? Or into a different universe?

  Six Indian chiefs, sitting tall in their saddles, flanked him. Faces painted, they stared ahead as if he didn’t exist. Had he been thrust into a war between the Indian nations in some kind of parallel universe?

  “Where are we going?” Derek asked again, desperate for some sense of where he was, his heart speeding faster than the horses’ hooves.

  No one responded or acknowledged his words. The stallion underneath him zigzagged to the right, almost throwing him off the horse. Derek hadn’t ridden in so long, he’d lost the ability to balance. He squeezed his legs tighter, but the animal responded by galloping faster.

  “Can we stop?” he pleaded, trying not to sound like a wimp.

  “Keep riding,” said the chief next to him, his headdress flapping in the wind. “No more questions.”

  He must be kidding. They needed to explain so much. All they’d ever done was talk to him. Never before had they taken him anywhere or shown themselves.

  Derek swallowed a yelp as his balls smashed against the saddle. Now he knew why he’d never make Chief if riding were a prerequisite.

  Thundering hooves continued to eat up the sand. If they didn’t want to tell him squat, they wouldn’t. Damn their powers.

  Derek would be able to concentrate on his situation if his brain stopped bouncing against his skull. He couldn’t tell if the chiefs were all Seminoles or if they’d come from different tribes. Each wore his own distinct headdress, almost as if each were from another time and place.

  A chief on a large Palomino nudged between Derek and another chief next to him. Derek’s horse shied to the side, then reared up, throwing Derek high into the air.

  He landed hard, waiting for the pain, but none came.

  When he opened his eyes, he was back in his room, the sage a faint pile of ash and the candle extinguished. The clock read two in the morning.

  Shit. Dazed, he looked around, half expecting to see the warriors sitting on his bed. “Hello?”

  He held his breath awaiting further instructions. His arms throbbed and his full weight pressed onto the floor. What the fuck had just happened?

  Had he really been through a desert? Like on a horse with no name? Thank you, Neil Young.

  Head spinning, he picked up his artifacts and stumbled to the kitchen. Derek poured a glass of water, spilling half of it on the counter, but he didn’t bother cleaning up the mess. Drinking the cold liquid quenched his dry throat but not his heart. He ran a hand over the spill. Wet. At least he wasn’t imagining things anymore.

  A slow burning in his elbow caught his attention, and he rolled up his sleeve.

  “Blood?”

  Derek checked out the rest of his arm. Scrape marks ran from his shoulder to his wrist.

  “What the hell?”

  He looked at the ground, and then knelt to check out the material caught in the cuff of his pants.

  “That can’t be sand,” he mumbled.

  Both gave credence the vision had been real. But how was that possible? All he’d ever heard were one-line sayings he’d tried to morph into clues. He’d certainly never been abducted before. At least not that he remembered. Given the headdresses, he assumed they weren’t some aliens from a foreign planet dragging him through some kind of Stargate system.

  Was it some kind of time travel? Forget it. Derek didn’t have time for this nonsense.

  Unable to make sense of the mysterious experience, he drank two full glasses of water to clear his head. Hell, maybe he’d fallen asleep and dreamt the trip in the desert. But then how had he bloodied his elbow and scraped his side if he hadn’t fallen from a horse? And where had the sand come from?

  He and Kelly hadn’t eaten before he received the call about Billy’s disappearance, so perhaps hunger had caused the hallucinations. If that were the case though, how could his imagination create blood?

  He didn’t dare ask his father about the mysterious event. The vision, or trip, would only serve to drive another wedge between them when he expressed his skepticism. Anytime he brought up the power of the gods vs. the one and only God, they argued. It was tough being raised by a Catholic and a Seminole shaman at the same time.

  Maybe it was time to put away the sage.

  Kelly finished writing up her research findings and said goodbye to Chip, who promised to clean up the lab.

  She hadn’t been able to keep her mind on work all day. Little wonder. She was up half the night worrying about Billy, worrying about Derek, and wondering if her sister’s death would ever be resolved.

  Two nurses entered the building for the evening shift as she was leaving. They waved at her, and Kelly managed to smile, pretty sure they hadn’t heard of Stef’s death yet. She wasn’t ready to deal with any more sympathy from well wishers since the pain was still too raw.

  Cars whizzed by on the road bordering the college campus. She hurried to her VW, frustration strangling her. Once she and Derek left Chris’s, he’d turned sullen and distant. He’d driven her straight home without a word—not one sentence. True, his politeness extended to walking her to her door, but he left without a thank you or anything. She still couldn’t believe his attitude.

  She clicked open her car and jumped in. Sweat claimed her face and hands. When would the heat end? She stabbed the key in the ignition and started up the car.

  Derek, Derek, Derek. She should delete him from her mind’s hard drive. Right. That would never happen if her heart kept making excuses for his bad behavior.

  She ached from his pain. Billy was his last link to his sister, and now he’d disappeared. Kelly would have given Derek comfort, but he kept pushing her away, claiming he could find his nephew better alone. Fine. Couldn’t he see she cared? Everyone—even the most stoic—needed compassion.

  Lost in thought, Kelly pulled out of the lot and turned left toward Fowler Avenue. An eerie feeling spiraled down her neck, and she checked the rear view mirror. Was someone following her?

  When the car behind her passed on her right, her shoulders relaxed. She needed a chill pill. The recent pressures had made her lose her appetite and prevented her from sleeping. She would have to find a solution soon before she crumbled into something Chip might smear on a petri dish.

  Derek wasn’t good for her health, plain and simple.

  Forcing her mind off Derek for a moment, Kelly concentrated on her sister’s case once more. If Derek dismissed Michael as a suspect, and no one saw anything on the road below the crash site, she’d have to find some other clue.

  Though exhausted, Kelly decided to take one last look at the guardrail, assuming the workmen hadn’t fixed it already. She slugged through the lines of traffic heading to downtown. Once on the Crosstown, she was thankful the large amount of cars made traveling below the speed limit possible. She safely pulled over to t
he right once she passed the dented railing. Kelly breathed a sigh of relief the repair work remained unfinished.

  She parked and stood on the shoulder, staring at the bent metal, sick that Stef had bounced over the short rail. The hot fumes from the passing cars made her stomach queasy.

  Damn. She needed evidence. As Kelly turned to go back to her car, she caught site of a dark rusty spot at the end of the metal rail. She stopped in her tracks. Seeing no police cars, she stepped around the cones and hurried to the railing. A car honked, but she ignored the intrusive sound.

  Kelly loomed over the splotch. She might not be a forensic scientist, but she knew dried blood when she saw it. Why hadn’t the police found this evidence before? Did it belong to Stef? Had her sister been thrown from the car only to hit her head on the railing just as her car careened over the side? Or was this from a different accident? A more recent one?

  Aaargh! Something didn’t make sense. As much as she didn’t want to bother Derek again, she needed answers.

  He answered on the first ring. “Benally.”

  “Hi, it’s me.” Kelly walked back to her car, cell phone clutched tightly, fearful someone would stop and arrest her for trespassing.

  “What’s up?” He blew out an audible breath. She might be the last person he wanted to talk to, but too damn bad.

  “I’m on the overpass again where Stef had her accident. I found blood on the guardrail.”

  “Are you sure it’s blood?”

  She could tell his interest was peaked. “As sure as I can be without testing it. I deal with blood in my work.”

  “Go back in your car and get off the Crosstown. I’ll meet you below the overpass. And Kelly?”

  “I know. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Yeah.”

  She heard the familiar levity and smiled. Maybe the old Derek wasn’t dead after all.

  Heeding his warning, Kelly exited the freeway and parked beyond the overpass. Not only had the man who resided under the bridge disappeared, no prostitutes were on the corner either.

  A few cars passed, but no one seemed to pay any attention to her. Kelly straightened in her seat when an older woman in a frumpy housedress limped down the sidewalk toward Kelly’s car. She double-checked the door locks just in case the woman was dangerous.

  Dangerous. Right. Her imagination was definitely out of control. As if a sixty-year old woman would be some kind of serial killer. The lady slowed as she neared. When the woman was parallel to the passenger’s side door, she stopped and knocked on Kelly’s window.

  Not wanting to be rude, Kelly rolled down her window a few inches.

  “Yes?”

  “Can you help me?” the older lady said.

  Heat poured inside the open window. Kelly expected the woman to hold out her hand and ask for money. “What do you need?”

  “I’m trying to find Bayshore Boulevard.”

  Kelly sighed, relieved she only wanted directions. “Keep on this street. It dead ends on Bayshore.”

  “Thank you,” the woman said with a too white smile.

  Strange. Bayshore was a good seven miles long from one end to the other. Given the road held the most exclusive homes in this end of town, she wondered what business the woman had there. Maybe she was a maid and not the bag lady Kelly had first assumed.

  Before she could speculate further, Derek pulled up behind her. A blanket of safety wrapped around her as she stepped out of the car.

  Tension lined his face. “So where’s this blood?” He was all business today.

  “Above us on the end of the guardrail,” she said.

  “You stay here while I check it out.” He scratched his head. “I can’t believe we didn’t catch this.”

  “Why would the police have checked? They never suspected any foul play.”

  “Could be.” He didn’t look convinced.

  Derek wheeled around and headed to his cruiser.

  She didn’t want to be alone, not with bag ladies, homeless people, and hoods on bikes. “I want to come with you.” He turned back to face her and quirked a brow. “It’s kind of creepy staying here alone.”

  “Fine. Lock your doors, and we’ll take my car.”

  Driving in a cruiser lent more authority to her being there. “Okay.”

  It only took a few minutes to return to the entrance ramp. When they reached the accident spot, Derek pulled over, and she jumped out.

  “It’s at the end of the rail,” Kelly said, pointing to the broken metal.

  Derek stepped around the cones. He crouched down to come eye-to-eye with the railing. A short phone call later, he strode back to her. “CSU will be here shortly. If it’s blood that hasn’t been contaminated, I want proof.”

  “That’s why I called you.”

  He turned to her. “What were you doing up here? This is a crime scene.”

  “No it’s not. You said it wasn’t a crime but an unfortunate accident.”

  He nodded, but she could tell he wasn’t happy with her flawless logic. “Let’s go. Once the lab analyzes it, I’ll let you know.”

  Mr. Not-so-friendly took her back to her car. What was eating him?

  “Have you heard from Billy yet?” she asked.

  His shoulders relaxed. “As a matter of fact, I have.”

  A surge of relief lowered her pulse. “Where was he?”

  “With Dad.”

  From his terse tone, she guessed Billy staying with his dad was a bad thing. “But he’s all right, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah. Dad figured the kid needed some R & R so he picked him up at school to go hunting—and told no one.” He wiped a drop of sweat from his brow. “The bad thing is, when they’re in the woods, Dad’s cell doesn’t work. I lit into Billy about calling me when I finally spoke to him.” He scrubbed a hand over his head. “Bad move. I think the kid hates me now.” Pain and worry creased his face.

  For a moment, Kelly was tempted to wrap her arms around him and tell him everything would be all right, but after all these years, any display of affection might not be welcome.

  “In the morning, he’ll rethink things. Billy knows you care. That’s all that matters to kids in the end.”

  “I hope so. Rayne would be so upset if she thought we couldn’t have a good relationship.” He pulled open her door. “I promised Dad I’d have dinner with the two of them.”

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  “Hey.” He took a step closer and her heart sped up. “Be careful, okay?”

  “I will.”

  “And no more snooping.”

  “Someone has to.”

  Derek frowned and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. “If the blood turns out to be something, I promise we’ll investigate.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Kelly, listen.” His eyes glanced to the sky for a moment. “It’s hard enough dealing with two deaths, I couldn’t handle it if anything happened to you, okay?”

  With his tender words, Kelly forgave him everything. Again. “If you promise to let me know as soon as you learn about the blood, I’ll keep my nose clean.”

  “It’s a promise.”

  16

  What the hell was that woman doing here again, snooping around at the crash site like that? Didn’t she know that stirring up such a fuss could get a person killed? If the police believed it was an accident, then it was an accident. If the bitch couldn’t keep her nose out of their business, she too would have to die.

  Wasn’t it bad enough she’d already brought in Rayne’s brother? Another stupid mistake on her part. Her snooping was gonna get him killed also.

  Damn, but this killing was getting dangerous. All these loose ends were beginning to make a mess of things. The bleeding had better stop soon or the police might get wise about Rayne and Stefanie’s real killer. Jail was not a place for the faint of heart.

  Shit. Back to the drawing board.

  “Are you sure?” Derek’s throat suddenly went dry. He leaned back in his chair, his mind reel
ing with possibilities.

  “There it is in black and white.” Medina tossed the report on Derek’s desk. The papers landed with a slap. “The blood belonged to your sister.”

  Trying to cover his shock, Derek watched as one sheet escaped the folder and floated to the ground, but he ignored it. The tip of the report peeked out from the edge, and Derek jerked on the page, scanning the information. “This can’t be.”

  Medina took a sip of his soda just as Derek looked up. His mouth watered. He could use an icy cold one right about now.

  “Pole axed me too,” Medina said, swallowing. “Ms. Gentry was inside the car with the windows up when she went over the guardrail, so she didn’t leave Rayne’s blood there.”

  “Never thought she did.”

  “Here’s a possibility, though it has too many holes. Ms. Gentry might have stopped by the side of the road on a bridge, wiped her bloody hands on the rail to get rid of the evidence after killing Rayne, and then returned to her car and drove over the edge. Guilt can be a strange motivator.”

  Derek mentally replayed the possible scenario. “She couldn’t have accelerated fast enough to flip over the rail—not unless Einstein’s laws have changed.”

  Medina scrubbed a hand down his jaw. “You’re right.” He set down his drink and opened another folder. “The autopsy didn’t show any blood on Gentry other than her own.”

  “You have any ideas how my sister’s blood ended up on the railing?”

  “The killer left it there.”

  Derek sat up straight, adrenaline jump-starting his heart like ten downed sodas. Could Kelly have been right? “Maybe the front door to Rayne’s house had been open and Stefanie walked in on the killer. She ran. He followed. With the roads wet, her car swerved out of control.”

  Medina arched a brow. “She would have called the police from her car. She did have a cell phone, remember?”

  He was losing it. “You’re right. Maybe the killer understood that Stefanie could place him at the scene. When she left, he followed her. When she realized the danger, she sped up and lost control.”

  “Go on.”

  He snapped his fingers. “How could I have forgotten? According to Rayne’s next door neighbor, there was a woman about Stefanie’s age at Rayne’s house near the time of the murder.” The words of the homeless man came back. “Kelly and I talked to some man who lived under the bridge where the accident occurred. He claimed to have heard a car door slam right after Stefanie’s car went off the overpass long before the ambulance arrived.”