A Thousand Yesteryears

by Mae Clair

  Fishing her keys from her purse, she located the correct one by feel, then inserted it into the lock and stepped inside. A soft glow brought the room into focus when she switched on a table lamp. Instantly, alarm pricked her nerves. Her aunt’s draperies lie scattered haphazardly over the furniture and floor.

  She was fairly certain she hadn’t left them in that condition, but the night had been nothing short of chaotic. She’d probably just forgotten her own sloppiness amid the confusion. Testing the door, she made sure it was secure, then moved about switching on more lights. The lack of curtains at the windows made her feel exposed, but the brightness was comforting. A gradual sense of relief settled over her as she walked to the kitchen. She’d double check the back door, make sure it was locked, then examine the final drapery panel, the one she and Caden had left untouched. It was possible the phone would ring and Aunt Rosie would relay another mysterious word or two. If she discovered nothing within fifteen minutes to a half hour, she’d head back to the hotel and wait for Caden. The plan made her feel safe and secure.

  Until she stepped into the kitchen.

  The sight of the broken back door greeted Eve like a kick to the stomach. Someone had worked hard to bust through the deadbolt, hacking away at the wood until the door had splintered under the assault. The intruder had punched a hole, then simply reached through and released the lock from the inside.

  Fear crashed over her in an icy wave. There was no longer a question of whether she was alone in the house. Was the intruder upstairs, waiting for her to retrace her footsteps, or did he lurk on the screened porch? For three terrifying heartbeats, panic held her immobile as she debated whether she should chance calling the sheriff’s office. In the end, fright spurred her to action. Breathing rapidly, she wrenched open the door and scrambled onto the porch.

  “There you are,” a man’s voice said from the dark. She slammed up against something solid, a wall of flesh that blocked her escape. A massive hand clamped over her mouth, muffling her scream. She clawed at the fingers, but the man spun her around, pinning her back to his chest. The smell of mossy aftershave and Scotch engulfed her. She screamed into his hand and squirmed, digging her elbow into his ribs.

  The futile efforts had no effect.

  “Stupid woman, I’ve been waiting for you.”

  He released her long enough for her to gulp air. Before she could make a dash for the door, he struck her on the side of the head, dropping her to her knees. The hard boards of the porch bit into her hands, and a sound like water bouncing off tin, rang in her ears. Swaying, she managed a feeble gasp before folding completely. The last thing she saw before surrendering to the crowding darkness was the axe he’d confiscated from her garden shed.

  * * * *

  Caden itched to be out looking for Roger, but there were i’s to dot and t’s to cross—precise procedures that had to be met so the scumbag wouldn’t be able to cry a technicality when apprehended. As Caden waited for Ryan to put the finishing touches on the order for Roger’s arrest, he paced to the coffeepot. Not that he wanted any of the overly strong liquid, but it gave him something to do rather than rehash Maggie’s death.

  Again.

  Since learning the truth, he’d replayed the bridge collapse a dozen times in his head, and a dozen times he’d been left with the same glaring reality—he couldn’t have saved her. Maybe it was time to let go of the guilt and give them both the peace Roger had stolen.

  “Hey, Caden.” Wayne Rosling helped himself to a cup of coffee, filling his Cleveland Browns mug to the brim. Once white, the inside of the stoneware had turned the color of toasted caramel from years of accumulated stains. It had been a standing joke in the department that the best way to work Rosling into a huff was to hide his Browns mug. He refused to drink from any other cup, insisting the accumulated stains added flavor. “Rumor has it you’re going to be joining us again.”

  “Rumor spreads fast.” Rosling, like most everyone else under Weston’s command, was a good cop. Officers pulled their weight or shipped out. As informal as he was, Pete Weston didn’t tolerate slacking.

  “In this case, it’s a good one.” Rosling offered his hand. “Welcome back.”

  “Thanks.” Caden shook, then glanced around the room. “Quiet in here tonight.” Evening shifts were generally low-key, but tonight, more so than most. A good chunk of local residents were no doubt at Roger’s party. As a result, the phones were quiet, Mothman sightings likely cut to a minimum. The few officers on duty attended to paperwork and fielded the occasional call. Caden wondered how those same officers would react when the APB on Roger was announced. Weston planned on sharing it once Ryan supplied him with the official forms.

  Anytime now.

  Impatiently, he glanced at his watch.

  Rosling took a swig of his coffee. “With any luck it’ll stay quiet. I’m not looking forward to citing drunks from Roger Layton’s party.”

  Caden was about to tell him the night was going to explode for an entirely different reason when Rosling tugged a slip of paper from his breast pocket. “By the way, I took this message for you when you were in with Pete.” Unfolding the scrap one-handedly, he passed it to Caden, who frowned down at the phone number for the Parrish Hotel. Rosling had scrawled a name beside it.

  “Katie. That’s odd. Did she say what it was about?”

  “Sorry.” Rosling shook his head and downed another gulp of coffee. “Anyway, good to have you back.” He clapped Caden on the shoulder, then headed for his desk.

  Caden glanced about for a phone, noted Ryan using his own, and promptly took over the nearest empty desk. The hotel was within walking distance, just a few blocks away, but he didn’t want to miss Weston’s announcement. Eve must have asked Katie to call him about something, but if the women were in the ballroom, they’d never hear the phone ring.

  He dialed the number regardless, surprised when Katie answered after a single ring. “Caden, thank God you called.”

  The breathless rush of her words sent a spike of fear lancing through him. “What’s wrong? Where’s Eve?”

  “That’s why I’m calling. She borrowed my car half an hour ago.”

  “What?” He shot to his feet, the phone clutched to his ear.

  “She said she had to check something at the house and that she’d only be a few minutes. But I know something happened tonight, and I’m worried. I tried to call her, but she isn’t answering the phone. She told me you were at the sheriff’s office with Ryan, so I thought—”

  “I’m on it.” He couldn’t say the words fast enough. He was about to cut the phone call short when he remembered to ask if Lillian was still there or if Roger had shown up.

  “Lillian’s here, but Roger’s been missing most of the night. What kind of host ditches his own party?” He could picture the bafflement on Katie’s face. “Roger’s guests are starting to talk. Caden, what’s going on?”

  “Not now. Thanks for the tip, Katie. I’m going to drive to Eve’s place and make sure she’s okay.”

  “But—”

  He clicked off the call, hating to be rude, but propelled by urgency. “Ryan,” he called, striding for his brother’s desk. “I need the keys to your cruiser.”

  His brother glanced up. “What for?”

  “Eve borrowed Katie’s car to head home a half hour ago. Katie’s worried because she isn’t answering the phone and hasn’t come back.”

  Ryan swore. “You don’t think Roger—”

  “That’s exactly what I think.”

  “Then I’m going with you.” Ryan shoved from his chair, paperwork clutched in hand. As the two bolted for the door, he tossed the forms on Wayne Rosling’s desk. “Weston’s waiting on that. Make sure he gets it.”

  The older officer glanced down at the APB order. The last thing Caden heard as he ran outside was Rosling’s stunned voice.

  “Holy shit! Is this for real?”

  * * * *

  It seemed me
re moments until the world swam back into focus. Eve moaned as she regained consciousness, a knot of pain rolling from her temple to her jaw. She thought she heard a phone ringing in the background, but before she could focus on the noise, it stopped.

  It took several seconds to remember what happened, the resulting panic propelling her clumsily to her knees.

  “It doesn’t have to be like this.” Roger’s voice sliced through the pounding in her ears.

  She wobbled to her feet, then tottered behind a chair, clutching the frame to steady herself. The barrier placed an obstacle between her and Roger, but also effectively cut off her escape. She hadn’t imagined the ringing or the phone call that had brought her here. But she’d obviously misinterpreted what her aunt wanted her to do, for Aunt Rosie would never place her in a dangerous situation. Frantically, she tried to think of what she’d overlooked.

  Unconcerned by her mounting dread, her tormentor bent and picked up the axe he’d used to hack through her back door. “I saw what you did to the drapes and realized I was too late.” He spoke indifferently, almost cordially. A predator who viewed his prey as a pitiful threat. “Is that where Rosie hid it?”

  Eve licked her lips, her mouth dry. Her gaze darted about as she sought an avenue of escape, but he’d backed her into a corner like a wolf herding sheep. The chair was flimsy protection at best. The only buffer she had, she clung to it, trying to anticipate his next move.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, attempting to play dumb.

  He snorted softly. “Eve, a word of warning—if you continue to annoy me, I can almost guarantee you’ll end up like Amos Carter.”

  A cold finger of sweat trickled down her neck. “You killed him?”

  “The oaf didn’t deserve to live. He trashed Rosie’s house and couldn’t come up with the negative.” Roger took a casual step closer, forcing her to shift the chair like a shield in front of her. “So you see there’s a lot of blood already wrapped up in that negative. A little more isn’t going to make a difference.” He tossed the axe lightly from hand to hand, an unspoken threat.

  Her stomach rose to her throat, her pulse fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings. “I don’t have it. I gave it to Ryan Flynn. Lillian knows about everything, Roger. She’s going to cooperate with the police.”

  “So I heard.” Even in the dark, she could tell his face hardened. “I came back to the hotel and was outside your office when the spineless witch spilled her guts.”

  “Then you know I don’t have the negative,” she blurted.

  He frowned, momentarily uncertain. Clearly, he hadn’t heard everything, or he would have known Ryan had the incriminating film. By the same token, had she just surrendered her security? He’d killed Amos without qualm, and he’d killed Maggie.

  “Why did you do it?” If she could keep him talking, maybe she could figure a way past him. At the very least it would buy her more time, and she needed to know the truth. “Why did you kill Maggie? She was innocent. A child!”

  He grimaced. “She saw me in the woods.”

  “Burying a body?”

  He nodded. “You’re a smart girl. More’s the shame you stuck your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  “The body…” She grew cold realizing the extent of his crimes. “Was it Wendy Lynch?”

  A look of surprise crossed his face. After a second, he chuckled coldly. “So, you figured that out, too? Yeah, it was her.” He tugged his bottom lip thoughtfully. “Sixteen years old and pregnant. Stupid girl thought I’d be elated and marry her. When I said I wanted nothing to do with her, she threatened to tell Rosie what we’d done.”

  Poor Wendy! It all came together in Eve’s head. “And you couldn’t risk that because Aunt Rosie would break off her engagement. It was bad enough you’d been unfaithful to her, but statutory rape of a sixteen-year-old…” She felt nauseous. The man was a reprehensible killer. “You never loved my aunt, did you? You were after the hotel the whole time.”

  Roger straightened his shoulders. “I was after anything that would get me off those damn docks. I wasn’t going to be a river rat for the rest of my life, like my father and grandfather. When Rosie bailed, I went after the next best thing.”

  “Lillian.”

  He flashed a feral smile. “Like I said, you’re a bright girl. You should have sold me the hotel and walked. All of this unpleasantness” —he waved the axe in the air— “could have been avoided.”

  Eve tensed, prepared to run. “You’re a monster.”

  “I’m an opportunist.” He narrowed his eyes, signaling a growing impatience with the conversation. “I took what I wanted. Wendy Lynch was nobody. A slut who’d been used up and spit out by the time she got her claws into me. I should have dumped her body in the TNT, but it was overrun with all those lunatics looking for the Mothman and UFOs back then. I thought that thicket at the end of town was the next best thing. I wasn’t going to ditch my shot at a future for a piece of teenage trash.”

  If he’d been closer, she would have spit in his face. “My aunt was right to dump you.” He needed to be locked up, banished to a prison where he couldn’t hurt anyone ever again. “I’m only sorry she didn’t report you to the sheriff years ago. If you’ve got any sense, you’ll turn yourself in.” She thought quickly, grasping for anything that might make him run. “You heard the phone ringing.”

  “So?”

  Roger wouldn’t believe it may have been her Aunt Rosie, and certainly wouldn’t care, but he’d reconsider if he thought his neck was on the line. “That was Caden checking in with me. Since I didn’t answer, he’ll be coming to the house. Soon, there’ll be nowhere for you to hide.”

  Silence greeted her. His expression grew grim as he digested the truth. “Maybe. But I won’t leave you behind as a witness.”

  He lunged to grab her, one meaty hand closing the distance between them. Recoiling, Eve shoved the chair, using it like a battering ram. Roger howled, solid proof it connected painfully with his knees. Sensing freedom, she stumbled for the door, knocking over a small table lamp. Her balance off-kilter in her high-heeled shoes, she’d only managed three steps when Roger grabbed a fistful of her shirt and wrenched backward.

  Eve yelped, yanked off her feet. She sprawled against his chest, pinned in place when he wrapped an arm around her waist. The cold blade of the axe pressed against her cheek.

  “If you as much as flinch, I’ll cut you. Do you understand?”

  Terrified, Eve choked out a “yes.”

  “Good. You and I are going for a drive.” He grinned, his breath hot against her ear. “It’s time I showed you where Amos breathed his last.”

  Chapter 14

  Caden thrust the door of the cruiser open before Ryan brought the car to a complete stop. The sight of Katie’s Pinto parked in front of the house sent a flood of relief crashing over him, but the knot in his gut wouldn’t unravel completely until he talked to Eve and assured she was fine.

  As he sprinted for the front porch, Ryan bolted around the side, heading to the rear yard. Caden rang the bell, impatiently shifting from foot to foot. He rolled his hand into a fist and pounded it against the door.

  Come on. Come on.

  She should have stayed put like she’d promised.

  Inwardly seething, he dug the house key she’d given him from his pocket. Before he could insert it in the lock, the door swung open, revealing Ryan on the threshold. His brother’s taut expression alerted him something was wrong.

  “What is it?” Caden demanded.

  “You better take a look.” Stepping clear, Ryan motioned him inside. “Someone hacked through the kitchen door. Eve isn’t here.”

  A torrent of alarm rocketed through Caden. He dashed for the rear of the house, acid bubbling in his gut. The sight of the busted door drew him up short, his sense of dread mushrooming into raw-boned fear. On the porch, he found evidence of a struggle—an overturned chair, a table knocked to the side
, a broken lamp. Switching on a light, he stood blinking against the glare.

  No blood, thank God.

  “Eve?” Even as he yelled her name, he knew it was useless. She wasn’t there.

  Returning to the living room, he found Ryan on his handheld radio, talking to the dispatch operator at the sheriff’s office. Caden’s brother had switched on several lights, revealing Eve’s keys and purse on an end table to the left of the door. She must have placed them there when she’d stepped inside, not realizing anything was wrong.

  The intruder had probably been waiting for her in the kitchen. He paced off an agitated circle, thoughts firing helter-skelter through his mind. Where had she been taken? Was she hurt? And damn it all to hell, why hadn’t he insisted she stay with him at the sheriff’s office where he could have assured she was safe?

  Switching off his radio, Ryan turned to face him. “I’ve requested a crime scene unit and put out an alert she’s missing.”

  “It’s Roger.” Caden spat the name like something vulgar. “He has her. I know it’s him.”

  Ryan nodded. “He’s the only one that makes sense, but where would he take her?”

  Trying to think rationally, Caden scrubbed a hand over his face. “To the TNT. To the place where he killed Amos.”

  “You’re guessing.”

  “Damn right, but it’s all I’ve got.” Brushing past Ryan, he raced for the door. “I’m taking the car.”

  Ryan hurried after him. “Where?”

  “Where else?” Caden sprinted across the lawn. “To find Eve.”