Waiting In Darkness: A Sabrina Vaughn Thriller (The Sabrina Vaughn Series Book 1)

by Maegan Beaumont

  TWELVE

  SHE DID AS SHE WAS told, wiping up congealed mustard and old bread with a few napkins she found stuffed in a random drawer, dropping the lot of it into the trash can. Her stomach still growling, she ate a handful of dry cereal before heading back down the hall. Her hands were stained yellow. They smelled like mustard.

  Alone, she decided to chance a shower. Stripping down, Melissa hung her uniform on the back of the door and jumped in to scrub herself before the water even had time to warm. Ten minutes later she was clean, drying herself off with the last clean towel she could find. Dale giving her the day off was a Godsend.

  Down the hall, the front door banged open just as she was shutting her own for the night. Her mother was back from wherever she’d gone and it sounded like she wasn’t alone. She could hear her mother giggling, a low, male voice speaking in hushed, urgent tones. Probably a long-haul trucker who’d spent one too many lonely nights on the road, willing to pay a few bucks for Kelly’s company.

  Whoever it was, it wasn’t Pete. As relieved as she was, she knew he wouldn’t stay gone for long. He’d be back.

  She shut the door with a quiet click, pushing in the lock and sliding the chain across the door jamb even though both had been proven useless. She thought of the bat she kept propped next to the front door. Right now, it did her no good. Then she remembered the multi-tool Michael had given her. As quietly as she could, she reached out, finding it on the TV tray next to her bed. Wrapping her fingers around it, she pulled it to her, tucking it under her pillow.

  Lying down, she pressed her back against the wall, gaze fixed and unblinking, on the door knob—waiting for it to turn...

  SHE must’ve dozed off because the next thing she heard were footsteps outside her window, a second before someone tapped on the cracked glass of it. She lay there, frozen by fear, listening. Beyond her door, the trailer was its own version of quiet. Loud music, muffled by a closed bedroom door. Beneath the music, the sounds of sex, bought and paid for.

  The tapping again. This time a bit louder. More insistent. She got up, reaching for the bed sheet that covered the window, moving it to the side so she could see outside, the multi-tool Michael gave her clenched in her fist.

  Tommy stood on the other side of the glass, hands dug into the pockets of his MU hoodie. As soon as she moved the sheet, he took a step away from the window to look up at her.

  Relief bled into her hands and they trembled as she unlatched the window and slid it open along its track. She crossed her arms over her chest, peering past him, into the dark. The thick line of trees behind him seemed heavy. Like it was hiding something. Something waiting—just outside her field of vision. “What are you doing here, Tommy?”

  Tommy grinned but the shine of it didn’t reach the dark of his eyes. He was remembering their last conversation. Their fight. The question she’d asked him that he hadn’t been able to answer.

  Why? Why do you love me?

  “Can I come in?” he said before quickly adding, “Just for a few minutes. I want to talk to you…” his words trickled to a stop when she didn’t move aside, the grin on his face falling away into a look of pained embarrassment. “Okay…I’m sorry I woke you.” he nodded, taking a step back, followed by another. “I guess I’ll see you at work then—”

  “Wait,” she said, angling her head out the window. Moving back to sit on her bed, she set the multi-tool aside while he boosted himself onto her windowsill and shimmied his way in. Something he’d done a dozen times over the past few months. So why did this time feel different?

  “When Dale said you’d gone to see your mom, I didn’t expect to see you today,” she said quietly, while he shut and latched the window.

  “Just a day trip,” Tommy said, turning to look at her, offering her another smile. “I needed to ask her for something before she left for her residency.” He didn’t offer any further explanation. For some reason it irritated her.

  She looked at the clock on her nightstand. It was after midnight. “Tommy, I’ve got a lot to do in the morning…”

  “I know,” he said, dropping onto the floor, he sat in front of where she sat on the bed. “But this is important… the other night, I thought about what you asked me. Thought about it all the way home.” He crossed his long legs in front of him, looking up at her. “Why I love you. Actually, I can’t stop thinking about it—I’ve been trying to find the answer you’d want. One that’ll make you happy.”

  She sat forward, bracing her elbows on her knees. “Tommy, that’s not why I—”

  “Just listen,” he said, looking over his shoulder for a moment at the toddlers asleep in the bed a few feet away. “Somewhere around yesterday afternoon, I realized that there isn’t a right answer. I can’t explain why I love you… I just do.” He turned back to look at her, and her breath caught in her chest. “I love how dedicated you are to Jason and Riley. How hard you work. I love how; no matter how many times you get knocked down, you keep getting up—”

  He pulled his hand from the pocket of his hoodie and opened his fist, showing her a soft leather pouch. “And instead of pushing you away I should do everything I can to make sure you stay right where you are. With me.” He reached for her hand and held it, emptying the contents of the pouch into it. A silver band, inlaid with lapis. “Will you marry me?”

  She knew without asking that this was what he’d gone to see his mother for. This was her ring. The one given to her by his father… the floorboards outside her bedroom creaked, moaning so softly that for a second, she was able to convince herself that she’d imagined it. But she hadn’t imagined it… someone was standing outside her bedroom, listening. Pete. It had to be. He must’ve come home while she was sleeping.

  She looked up at him, shaking her head. “I can’t. I can’t Tommy…”

  The smile on his face faded away, his hand falling from hers. In the hall, the floorboards creaked again, this time footsteps moving toward the kitchen. A second later, the front door open before slamming shut.

  “I’m leaving Jessup,” she said it in a rush, not sure how much time she had. Reaching out, she caught the hand he’d pulled from hers. “I can’t stay here anymore—” Tears clogged her throat and sinuses. “I have to leave, so I can’t…”

  “I’ll go with you.” He said it like it was the easiest thing in the world—leaving your entire life behind. Starting a new one. For them, maybe it would be. “I’ll go with you.” He leveled himself up onto his knees, cupping his hands around hers. “I love you, Melissa—I love you and I’ll go any—”

  “Okay.” She breathed the word, nodding her head, pressing the ring into his hand. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Tommy.” He leaned into her, kissing her while he slipped the ring onto her finger. The moment she felt its weight on her hand, she knew it was right. That she belonged with Tommy—and that everything would be okay, as long as they were together.

  THIRTEEN

  THIS WASN’T HAPPENING.

  He refused to believe it. What he was seeing couldn’t be real. It wasn’t possible.

  Friday night, she’d left Onewolf standing on the sidewalk, on the verge of breaking up with him. Now that half-breed cocksucker was on bended fucking knee, cheap ring in hand.

  And she was saying yes.

  He jumped when the cold tip of the blade he held touched the corner of his eye, causing a momentary slice of pain. He hadn’t even been aware of lifting it to his face. That’s how much this upset him. How wrong it was. He’d been on the verge of stabbing out his own eyes because this was wrong. She didn’t belong to Onewolf. She belonged to him.

  Mine.

  His head hurt. A sudden, constant drumming. Like someone was trying to kick in the back of his skull. He dropped the knife to his side, his hand flexing and tightening around its handle. Framed by the window, he watched the half-breed slip the ring on Melissa’s finger. Lean in to kiss her. The way she wound her arms around his neck. Let him push her back onto the bed…

  He would sit in
the diner and watch them. The truckers and the locals. The way they watched her. He knew what they were thinking—what they wanted to do to her. The thought of any one of them putting their hands on her made him so sick with rage he nearly blacked out. That feeling was nothing compared to what he was feeling now.

  Standing in front of her window, watching while she let that dirty half breed shove his tongue in her mouth, he still couldn’t believe what he was seeing but there it was and the sight of it nearly killed him.

  What nearly drove him from the dense cover of trees that hid him, what nearly had him diving through her window and stabbing that fucking asshole in the neck was that even though the sight of her betrayal enraged him, he still loved her. Still wanted her.

  The love fed his rage. His rage poisoned his blood and his blood sang, a high-pitched keening that nearly forced its way through his lips. Instead of letting it loose, he swallowed it—the heat of it scorched his throat. It tasted like ashes.

  He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, watching them. Unsure of how many times or ways he killed the half-breed in his mind but when the window finally slid open and Onewolf dropped onto the ground outside, he was ready.

  From where he stood, hidden in the trees, he could see Melissa lean out the window, reaching for Tommy, pulling him to her for a last kiss. In the light of her bedroom, he could see the plain silver band glinting on her finger. She said something him and the cocksucker smiled, kissing her again before he turned and headed for the trees.

  Straight for him.

  He didn’t move. Barely breathed, holding the knife close to his side. Waiting. Willing him closer, imagined pulling him into the dark of the trees. Plunging his knife into Onewolf’s gut. Opening him up like a deer, spilling his intestines onto his cheap, worn shoes.

  Beyond his prey he could still see Melissa, standing in the window. Watching Onewolf walk away. She wasn’t smiling anymore. She looked worried. Like she knew what waited for her lover in the dark. Suddenly, her gaze shifted and seemed to land right on him.

  Onewolf walked past him—not more than ten feet away from where he stood—with a stupid-ass grin on his face, heading deeper into the woods instead of toward the front of the trailer park. He thought he’d won. That Melissa was his. That he was going to live long enough to take what didn’t belong to him.

  He waited a bit longer, letting Onewolf gain enough distance between them that he didn’t realize he was being stalked. He watched Melissa close her window before moving the sheet that covered it back into place. That was his cue to move.

  Flicking his knife closed, he stowed it in the pocket of his jacket and started walking in the direction Onewolf had gone. He wasn’t afraid of being heard or seen. Not in these woods. Not by Onewolf. Lots of people hung out here. Drinking. Getting high. Getting laid. But it was Sunday night. Tonight, no one else was around to see. It was just him and the guy he was going to kill.

  Stooping, he picked up a rock the size of a softball. He kept walking, weaving through the trees, every stride bringing him closer and closer to Onewolf.

  They were about to break through the trees and onto the highway just beyond them. He was close enough to throw the rock and make his mark but he didn’t want to throw it. He wanted to heave it into that half-breed cocksucker’s face so he called out to him, urging him to turn around. “Hey, Tomahawk,” he said, his voice slightly raised. Just enough to stop Onewolf in his tracks. Giving him a chance to close the distance between them.

  He swung hard, clipping him in the back of the head before he could fully turn around. Onewolf went down hard, the back of his skull crumpling under the weight of the rock in his fist. He dropped the rock and reached into his pocket, closing his hand around the knife he kept there. Using the toe of his shoe, he turned him over, smiling at the way his arm flopped over to the side when he rolled him. Blood seeped into the ground beneath his head, a growing pool that soaked the dirt, staining it black. For a second he was sure he’d killed him. That he was already dead and that he wouldn’t get the chance to stab the life out of him.

  He hunkered down, staring at him. “Hey, you cocksuckin’ piece of shit,” he said, giving him a three-fingered tap on his cheek. Onewolf moaned in response but didn’t open his eyes. “Hey, look at me.” He leaned down into his face while he worked the blade of his folding K-BAR away from its handle.

  Unable to wait, he lifted Onewolf’s sweatshirt, positioning the tip of his knife against his exposed stomach. Onewolf’s eyelids fluttered but didn’t open. “You’re gonna miss the good part...” he said, driving the blade into the taut flesh of his belly. Onewolf’s eyes flew open—glassy and bright—bulging from their sockets like ping pong balls.

  “That’ll wake you up in the mornin’,” he whooped, yanking the blade out, holding it up between them so he could see it. “She’s mine,” he said quietly. “Mine…” he drove the knife in again and again, each thrust punctuated with the word he muttered over and over.

  Mine.

  He didn’t know how many times he stabbed him. Until he stopped making noise. Until he stopped moving and his breaths were few and far between. Sitting back, he wiped a shaking arm across his face, dragging blood and dirt across his mouth.

  Sometimes a plan needs time to build. To take shape. Sometimes it needs room to grow… and sometimes it springs forth, fully formed. Sometimes he just knew what he was supposed to do—like now.

  He dragged his knife across the front of Onewolf’s sweatshirt, using it to clean the blade before pulling it from his limp body. He put it on, storing his knife in its pocket. Next he stripped Onewolf’s shoes and jeans off before dragging him through the trees to the road just ahead.

  He dumped Onewolf there, tossing his shoes and jeans into the trees before heading back the way he’d come without a backward glance. Onewolf was a half-Apache fry cook in a town full of racist rednecks. Finding him naked, stabbed to death on the side of the highway behind the trailer park wasn’t going to shock anyone. The Chief would call it a hate crime, shake his head, and file it away as unsolved without even bothering to call his mama.

  He stopped walking long enough to pull the hood of his borrowed sweatshirt up over his head. It was deep, concealing his face. Perfect.

  He could see the outline of Melissa’s trailer in the moonlight. Her window was dark but it didn’t matter. He imagined her, waiting in the darkness.

  For him.

  FOURTEEN

  MELISSA ROLLED OVER AND looked at her alarm clock. Tommy’d been gone for nearly an hour. The rest of the trailer was quiet, except for the music coming from her mother’s room. No other sounds. No cigarette smoke drifting down the hall. Pete had left and stayed gone.

  At least for now.

  Holding her hand up in front of her, she looked at the ring Tommy put there. They were leaving tomorrow, as soon as the bank opened. They’d decided on California because neither of them had seen the ocean. She imagined Jason and Riley playing in the sand. Splashing in the brisk sea water. Feeding the gulls. Life was going to be good. She and Tommy would get jobs. It would be tough at first but with the six grand she’d saved up, they would have a good start. They’d make it. They’d be happy.

  She tried not to think about her grandmother. How heartbroken she’d be. She’d call her as soon as they were settled. Maybe she’d follow them. They could all live together. Maybe they’d find a place close to the beach—

  Someone was tapping on her window again but instead of scaring her, this time the sound made her smile. The last thing she’d said to Tommy had been, “Stay.”

  “We’ve got plenty of time for that later.” He levered himself up to her for one last kiss. “Get some sleep,” he said before he headed into the trees.

  He came back.

  She sat up, swinging her legs over the side of her bed, to let Tommy in. Standing, she turned toward the window, smiling at the figure a few feet away, outlined by moonlight against the thin sheet that covered the glass between them. She moved
the sheet aside just as he reached out and tapped again, the smile on her face wavering.

  It was not Tommy at her window.

  The figure outside her window wore Tommy’s faded green Marshal University sweatshirt but something dark was smeared across the front of it. The hood was pulled up and low over his face, but even though she couldn’t see past the shadow it cast, she knew it was wrong. The figure just beyond the glass was bulkier and shorter than Tommy’s tall, wiry built.

  A detached flicker of fear, like she was watching herself in a movie or reading it in a book, squirmed in her belly. The figure raised its hand again—tap, tap, tap. The finger that tapped left dark red smudges on the window when it fell away.

  Blood.

  Her eyes flew to the latch. She’d forgotten to lock the window.

  The hand was no longer tapping. Now it was pressed against the glass, almost digging into it, as if whoever was standing outside her window was trying to touch her. Feel her.

  She stumbled back, tripping over clothes and the twins’ diaper bag, until she was pressed against the closed bedroom door. The security chain dug into the thin skin along her spine, telling her it no longer worked to keep her safe. It had turned against her to keep her there—trapped. His hand moved, sliding the cracked window along its track, opening it slowly until there was nothing between them.

  She wanted to scream—could feel the force of it push its way into a throat that was blocked and choked by fear. She had the distinct impression that the person outside her window was smiling at her. That he found her fear amusing. That he was playing with her.

  She was suddenly sure that this was the man who’d broken into her room. Rifled through her hamper and stolen her underwear. Stood outside her window and watched her while he…

  Run. She had to run.

  Melissa turned her head toward the twins a few feet away, sleeping in a jumble of limbs. The sweet, even sound of their breathing drown out by the rushing of her blood as it pounded into her arms and legs, readying her to fight. She might have time to gather them. Unlock the door and run down the hall but there wasn’t enough time to do both before the man outside her open window gained access to her room and she wasn’t leaving them behind. Fists clenched, Melissa turned toward the window.