by LENA DIAZ,
“The other injuries that you mentioned, can you be more specific?”
She hesitated, biting her lower lip in indecision.
“Ma’am,” Cole spoke up. “We’re both law-enforcement officers, and that young woman is currently our responsibility. If we’re going to find the person who hurt her, we need to know exactly what happened.”
She leaned in toward them. “The bruising I mentioned...there were dark, chafed circles on her wrists and ankles. Doctor Varley believes she was restrained, for an extended period of time.”
Zack grew very still. “Someone tied her up?”
“We think so, yes. And the X-rays showed some hairline fractures in her forearms, basically healed now, but still recent. I’m sure you’re aware that breaks like that are characteristic of someone raising their arms to—”
“Defend themselves,” Zack finished for her.
She nodded. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to my patient.” She took off across the room before either of them could stop her and disappeared through a swinging door marked Authorized Personnel Only.
“What’s going on?” Zack kept his voice low, aware that many eyes were watching them. “She was, what, someone’s prisoner? Long enough for fractures to heal?”
“Maybe the Ghost of Mystic Glades isn’t a myth, after all,” Cole said. At Zack’s aggravated look, he held up his hands in surrender. “I know, I know. But, inappropriate or not, you were thinking it, too.”
He was right. Zack had been thinking that, and remembering what else Buddy Johnson had said at last night’s ill-fated campfire story hour. Buddy had said that two women had gone missing in the swamp. What were their names? Sue Ellen something, and Kaylee Brighton? Was it possible that Jane Doe was one of those women?
Where before Zack had assumed that Buddy had made up his claims to add flavor to his story, now he wasn’t sure. He’d have to check the sheriff’s records in Naples to see if any missing persons reports had been filed.
Obviously, no ghost had done those terrible things to the woman they’d found. But Zack didn’t want to believe that someone was abducting women and using the Glades to hide their crimes.
Cole’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, frowning at the screen. “Give me a minute.” He stepped away to take the call, covering his other ear to drown out the sounds of the busy hospital around them.
Zack curled his fingers into fists at his sides. The young woman, their Jane Doe, whom he guessed to be in her mid-twenties, had possibly been abducted and held prisoner. She’d been hurt, abused and yet, she’d been running through the woods just a few miles from Mystic Glades. Why? Was her abductor playing games, letting his victim run while he hunted her like prey? Or had she managed to escape when she’d stumbled out onto the road?
It seemed hard to believe that she could have been out in the swamp for very long, at least not that close to the town where he lived, without being discovered. Yes, the area was sparsely populated. But residents and even the occasional Everglades tourist were known for hiking and canoeing through the beautiful woods and canals nearby, at least when the sun was out and they could keep a careful eye out for dangerous animals and reptiles. Surely, someone would have heard her cry for help if she’d been out there long enough to become malnourished and dehydrated. Or had her abductor kept her gagged the whole time so she couldn’t scream?
Scream. Oh, God, no. His mouth went dry. He’d heard a shriek last night when he’d been putting out the campfire. And he’d convinced himself it was the owl that had flown into the clearing. Had he actually heard Jane Doe, crying for help, and he’d turned his back on her, leaving her at the mercy of a brutal attacker? The possibility had bile rising in his throat.
Cole frowned as he ended the call and stepped back to him. “You okay? You look a bit green around the gills.”
No, he was not okay.
“What was the call about?” he forced past his tight throat. “Obviously not good because you look green, too.”
Cole nodded, not denying it. “Those pictures I took in the back of the ambulance did their job. My boss, Lieutenant Drew Shlafer, said the sheriff in Broward County recognized our girl. They’re on the way to show the pictures to her family for confirmation, in Miami.” His eyes flashed with anger. “Want to guess how long ago her family reported her missing?”
Zack swallowed the cold, hard knot in his throat, remembering what Buddy had said last night about the Ghost of Mystic Glades and the two women who’d gone missing. “Five months or three months?”
“Three.”
Zack swore and vowed to take anything that Buddy Johnson said in the future far more seriously. He probably should interview Buddy to see what else the old man knew.
“Kaylee Brighton?” Zack asked, even though he already knew the answer.
“Bingo.”
Zack straightened his shoulders, as if he could brace himself against the terrible burden that now rested squarely in his jurisdiction. “All right. Let’s do this by the book and catch this sicko before he hurts anyone else. The Mystic Glades Police Department is officially requesting assistance from the Collier County Sheriff’s Office. There won’t be any turf wars over this. I’m a one-man operation right now and I need help.”
Cole pulled his phone out again. “You got it. I’ll talk to Lieutenant Shlafer. I’m sure he’ll authorize whatever you need. Maybe we can get some canine trackers out there, too. Figure out where Kaylee was being held and find the lowlife who took her.”
“Thanks. I’ll touch base with some of my FBI contacts, see if they’ve got any other missing-persons reports or homicides where the women were abducted and tortured in remote outdoor areas for an extended period of time. But first, I have to talk to Doctor Varley.”
“Why?” Cole asked, holding one of his hands over his phone.
As the nurse had done earlier, Zack glanced around the waiting room to make sure that no one was close enough to hear him before he answered. “This has changed from an accident to a felony kidnapping and possible sexual-assault investigation. I want to see whether the doctor can wake up Kaylee and obtain consent to perform a forensic exam. We need to collect any DNA from under her nails, swab and bag her clothes.” His jaw tightened. “We need a rape kit.”
Chapter Four
Mumbling voices. Whispered conversations. Antiseptic smell. Above her, a muffled, static-filled announcement over an intercom—code blue to room three twenty-eight. Hospital. She was in a hospital. She curled her hands in the sheets and opened her eyes then blinked against the bright, fluorescent lights. Footsteps sounded to her right and the harsh lights switched off, leaving the room dimly lit. Relieved, she blinked and took her first good look around.
And immediately wished she hadn’t.
Her room, though large by most hospital standards, was positively claustrophobic since there were five men and a woman crammed inside, all wearing business suits and standing by her bed. Dark pieces of memories swirled through her mind, of being caught, trapped. She recoiled against her pillow and pulled the sheet up to her neck, fighting the panic that was threatening to overwhelm her.
“Back up,” a deep voice ordered from her right. “You’re scaring her.”
Unhappy grumblings filled the room, but “the suits” dutifully stepped away from the bed. She turned her head on her pillow to see who’d spoken, a seventh person, a man whom she hadn’t noticed before. Which, now that she saw him, seemed ludicrous. He wasn’t the kind of man to fade into the background. There was a certain...intensity about him, an aura of confidence, authority, that commanded attention.
He wasn’t unusually tall, standing at about six feet. He had short, light brown hair and dark eyes—hard to tell the exact color from this distance. Trim-waisted, he wore a long-sleeved, button-down blue shirt tucked into khaki pants with
a sharp crease that could have sliced butter. His arms were crossed, emphasizing his large biceps and muscular chest. He was obviously fit, powerful, strong—qualities that she should have admired. But for some reason, seeing him made her tense and flooded her with an overwhelming desire to run, escape.
She frowned. Escape? What an odd thought to pop into her head.
“Do you know where you are?”
His voice was gentle, soothing, oddly familiar. The panic that had started inside her at seeing how strong, how powerful he was, began to fade. She’d heard that voice before, somewhere. And it made her feel...safe. She frowned again. Why would she crave safety? Was she in danger? None of this made sense.
The man with the intense, dark eyes didn’t approach her bed. Instead, he stayed by the window, as if he sensed her hesitancy, her confusion, her...fear?
“Hospital,” she answered his question. “I’m in a hospital. Not sure which one.”
“Naples Community. I’m Chief Zack Scott from Mystic Glades. We...met...earlier. Do you remember?”
He’d winced when he said they’d met. Why? Wait. Naples? Why was she in Naples? That wasn’t right. She should have been...where? She tried to think, to remember...anything...but her thoughts were a jumble of blurred images that didn’t make sense.
This man, the one in khaki pants...he’d been kneeling over her. When? Why? His face had been lined with concern, his voice gentle as he smoothed her hair out of her eyes.
“Do you know your name?” he asked quietly, from his position by the window.
“Of course I know my name. It’s...it’s...” She blinked, her breaths coming faster, her pulse slamming in her veins. Why couldn’t she remember? Her head throbbed. Her body flushed hot and cold. She raised her hand to her forehead and saw the IV tubing twisted around her arm, tape on the top of her wrist. Ugly purple bruises and lighter yellow ones dotted both of her arms. White bandages were...everywhere. What was going on? She jerked her head up and met the kind eyes of...what did he say his name was? Zack? “I don’t... I can’t...” She pressed her lips together and shook her head in frustration. “I can’t remember.”
“It’s okay,” he assured her. “The doctor said that might happen, because of your concussion, and that any memory loss is most likely temporary. You were in an accident, but you’re going to be...fine.”
His jaw tightened briefly, as if his choice of words disturbed him. But then he smiled again. “No broken bones. Mostly cuts, scrapes, bruises.” He waved his hand toward the others. “Everyone in this room is law enforcement. We’re here to talk to you about what happened. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
She let his soothing voice wrap around her like a warm blanket, forcing back the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. He’d said she’d been in an accident and that she had a concussion, which made sense since her head was throbbing. It would all come back to her. With this many law-enforcement officers in her room, whatever had happened must have been horrible.
She froze. Wait. Six, no, seven officials standing in her room. Would they do that for an accident victim? Or had the accident been her fault? Oh, God. Had she killed someone? Her gaze flew to Zack’s. “You said I was in an accident. What happened?” she asked. “Did I...did I hurt someone?”
“No, no, of course not. You didn’t hurt anyone.” He took a step toward her.
She tensed, pushing back against her pillow.
He immediately stopped and shot a glance at a dark-haired man in a gray suit standing on the left side of her bed. “Maybe we should get her doctor, Cole. We’re upsetting her. This is too much, too fast. She’s not ready.”
Another man, at the foot of her bed, braced his hands on the metal railing. “We can’t wait, Chief Scott. For all we know, the man who abducted her is after another woman right now. Or he could be holding the other missing woman. We need answers.”
“Abducted?” The word rasped past her dry lips. “I was abducted? You said there was an accident. I don’t understand.”
The kind man, Zack, narrowed his eyes at the one who’d just spoken before looking at her. “You don’t remember what happened? The woods? The marsh?”
She shook her head. Wait. No. No, no, no. She squeezed her eyes shut. The devil’s face swam in her vision, wide slits in the mask revealing dark, dead eyes. Except when he was hurting her. Then those eyes shined with an unholy light. She remembered something sharp, no, something hot, burning her back. Chains, ropes, her arms tied above her head. A box. Dark. Musty. The choking feel of him pressing her down, down. Oh, God. She covered her face with her hands.
“You’re safe,” that deep, soothing voice whispered again, closer now. Not the devil’s voice. Zack’s voice.
The man who’d saved her.
“No one can hurt you here. You’re safe. You’re safe,” he whispered, over and over, as if he knew what she needed to hear in order to fight off the panic threatening to choke her.
“Chief.” Even without looking, Kaylee recognized the impatience in the man’s voice as he spoke again from the foot of the bed. “I need to ask her questions. We don’t have time for—”
“Make time,” her protector snapped. She heard him step closer to the bed. And this time it didn’t scare her. “You’re in a hospital,” he told her again. “You’re going to be okay. There’s nothing to worry about. We’ll all leave and give you time to—”
“Chief Scott, that’s not—”
“We’ll leave,” he repeated, cutting off the suit’s complaint, his voice firm. “We’ll come back and talk when she’s ready, not a moment before.”
She shook her head and forced herself to pull her hands down from over her eyes. She didn’t want to be alone. Not again. When she was alone, he always found her—when she was awake, when she was asleep, in her nightmares. She looked at each of the people circling the bed. Strangers. All of them. She turned her head. But this man, the one on her right, the one with concern stamped in his expression, didn’t feel like a stranger—in spite of the power coiled inside those muscles, power that should have terrified her. Instead, he made her feel protected. Safe.
And she hadn’t felt safe in a very long time.
She clutched the bed railing. “Make them go. Make them go away... Zack...please.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Surprise?
He gave her a tight nod. “We’ll go. I’ll get the doctor.” He motioned to the others. The room began to empty and he started to follow everyone out. But as he passed her bed, she reached for him, her fingers clutching at his shirtsleeve. “Wait.”
He exchanged a startled look with the one other man left in the room, the one who’d been standing on her left. He now stood in the doorway, holding the door open.
“Yes?” Zack asked, his voice gentle, as soothing as she remembered when he’d knelt beside her on the road.
Just hold on. I’ve got you.
She tightened her hold on his shirt, half lifting off her pillow. Shame over her cowardice and fear made her face heat with embarrassment, but she still didn’t let him go. Couldn’t let him go. Panic welled inside her, making her feel as if she was about to jump out of her skin.
“Please, stay. I’m...” Scared. More terrified of being shut in a room with a stranger than of being alone with my thoughts, my nightmares. “Please.” She searched his eyes, blue she realized. Kind eyes. Nothing at all like the cold, dark eyes of her captor. “Don’t leave me. Keep me safe.”
Understanding dawned in his expression. He gently peeled her fingers from his sleeve and took her hand in his. But instead of closing his fingers around hers, he kept his hand beneath hers, palm up, so that she was holding his hand, not the other way around. He’d obviously done that to keep her from feeling trapped, as if she was in control. It was a small gesture, but it warmed her all the way to her soul.
“
I’ll stay as long as you want me to,” he assured her.
Her breath shuddered out of her on a ragged sigh. “Thank you.”
He lightly squeezed her hand in answer then glanced at the man still holding the door open. “Get her doctor, Cole.”
Cole nodded and headed into the hallway.
“My name is Kaylee,” she said, when he looked at her again. “Kaylee Brighton. I live in Miami.”
“I know. We’ve contacted your parents. They arrived yesterday and sat with you all night. They only went back to their hotel a few hours ago to catch up on some sleep. Now that you’ve woken up, I’m sure they’ll be back here soon.”
Joy filled her at his words. There had been times, many times, when she’d despaired of ever seeing her mother and father again. But then she frowned, thinking about what he’d said.
“They sat with me all night?”
He nodded.
“How long...how long have I been here?”
His look turned guarded.
“I’m okay,” she assured him. “Don’t worry about upsetting me. How long?”
“Cole, Collier County Detective Cole Larson, rode with me in the back of the ambulance that brought you here. That was yesterday morning. Except for a few minutes during the CT scan, you’ve been unconscious since then. You were sedated, to keep you still while they treated you. The doctor evaluated you again a little while ago and told us he thought that you’d be waking up soon. That’s why we were all in your room, so we could talk to you.”
He checked the watch on his left wrist, a surprising thing to wear for someone his age—probably late twenties, early thirties. But maybe it was something that came in handy in his line of work—quicker to check a watch than to pull out a cell phone to see what time it was. Funny thing was, she liked to wear watches, too, even though she was younger than him. Go figure. But her own watch was gone. He’d taken it. The devil. She shuddered.
“It’s six in the evening now,” he told her.
“You said I was brought here in an ambulance. I don’t remember an ambulance.”