Storm Warning

by Dinah McCall

They sat across the table, eating in silence, with only the occasional clink of a spoon against a bowl for punctuation.

  Ginny had seen the long thin scar near his left ear and traced the path of it across his neck with one brief, telling glance, trying not to imagine how he’d acquired it. All in all, he was a big man. Broad shoulders, big-boned. His legs were long and heavily muscled. She could tell he worked out, although in his line of business, she supposed he had to stay in good shape. His hair was short, straight and thick, a dark chocolate brown just a couple of shades lighter than his eyes, which appeared almost black. Suddenly, she realized that he’d caught her staring.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to stare, but has anyone told you that you look a lot like Harrison Ford?”

  He grimaced wryly. “Maybe.”

  She shrugged. “Just an observation.” She stood and picked up her bowl and cup and carried them to the sink. “More coffee?”

  “If I do, I won’t sleep,” he said.

  Ginny glanced at her watch. “Speaking of which, you must be exhausted. It’s after 1:00 a.m.”

  Sully took that as his cue to leave. “Thank you for the food.”

  Ginny took the dishes out of his hands. “I’ll do that,” she said. “And you’re welcome.”

  Now that it was time to go, Sully found himself vaguely regretful that he was going to leave.

  “I’ll just be next door.”

  She nodded.

  “If you need anything, anything at all, let me know. I’m a light sleeper.”

  “I will.”

  “Well then…if you’re sure you’re going to be okay?”

  Ginny folded her hands in front of her like a child about to recite.

  “I’ll be fine…now that you’re here.”

  The trust on her face was frightening. Sully’s heart gave a hitch as he headed for the door. Please, God, don’t let me screw this one up. He opened the door and then stopped and turned. Ginny was staring at him from across the room. He started to speak and then realized he had nothing left to say. Instead, he nodded, then closed the door. Seconds later, he heard the tumblers turning in the lock.

  Wind lifted the hair from his forehead as he stood in the darkness, waiting for her light to go out. Mist blew against his face, but the rain was gone. In the distance, he could hear the roar of a flood-swollen river. Seconds later, her cabin went dark.

  He turned, staring about the area until he was satisfied there was no one around. Then he walked to his cabin, sat down on the edge of the bed and took his cell phone out of his pocket. It was time to make the call.

  “Sir, it’s Agent Dean.”

  The director rolled over to the side of the bed and lowered his voice so as not to disturb his sleeping wife.

  “Do you know what the hell time it is?” he muttered.

  “Yes, sir, I’m sorry, sir, but I thought you’d want to know. I found her.”

  “Good job. I’ll notify Agent Howard tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What’s your read on this?”

  Sully sighed, thinking of the woman who’d cried in his arms. “She’s scared, but pretty tough, all things considered.”

  “Is the location secure?”

  Sully eyed his surroundings and resisted the urge to snort.

  “That’s debatable, but I’ll let you know if we move on. I don’t suppose you have any breaks in the case?”

  “No. Get some rest.”

  “Yes, sir, I plan to do just that.”

  “Oh…Sully?”

  Sully’s face mirrored his surprise. The boss wasn’t in the habit of calling any of his agents by their first name.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Good job.”

  “I’d say thank you, but truthfully, the credit should go to Sister Mary Teresa. She put this all together. I’m just sorry as hell I didn’t get there in time to save her, too.”

  “Yes, well, sometimes these things just happen. Get some sleep and keep in touch.”

  Sully laid the phone down on the bedside table and then walked to the window, giving the rain-washed parking lot one last look. The single security light near the manager’s cabin left tiny refractions of light in the lingering puddles, while the hum of Ginny’s air conditioner broke the silence of the night.

  Satisfied that all was well, he turned away from the window and started to turn on his air-conditioning unit, as well, when he realized that, if he did, he might not be able to hear her call.

  Shedding his clothes as he went, he opened the window beside his bed instead, laid his handgun and holster on the table beside his phone and crawled between the sheets. Exhaustion claimed him as he closed his eyes, and yet, as weary as he was, it was a long time before he slept.

  6

  Rain was everywhere, seeping through the walls, coming up through the floors. The roof was melting, the colors of the furniture bleeding one into the other in a tie-dyed nightmare. The ground beneath her feet began to give, and Ginny felt herself sinking. At first it was only a frustration, getting mud on her shoes, but it soon changed to terror as she struggled futilely to hang on to solid ground. Thunder suddenly sounded, rolling throughout the heavens above her head and sapping her strength until she was too weak to move. Out of nowhere, water rose to her knees, then soaked the front of her shirt. Clawing at a steadily dissolving shoreline, she began to cry. When the water lapped at her chin, then at the edge of her mouth, she threw her head back and screamed.

  “Help me, please help me. Don’t let me drown. Don’t let me die.”

  Ginny woke on a gasp and sat straight up in bed. The bedclothes were tangled about her legs, and in spite of the air-conditioning, her hair was sweat-streaked and stuck to the back of her neck. Still shaking, she sat up on the side of the bed, then leaned her elbows on her knees and covered her face with her hands.

  A dream. It was just a stupid dream.

  When she’d gained some equilibrium, she stumbled to the bathroom, splashing her face and neck with tepid water before scrubbing herself dry. Unwilling to go back to bed with that memory so fresh in her mind, she turned the light on in the kitchen and made coffee instead. As she did, the two unwashed bowls from last night’s late supper reminded her that she was no longer alone. The knowledge sat lightly on her heart as the dark, fragrant brew began to drip from the maker into the glass beaker below. After pouring herself a cup, she slipped on her sneakers and then unlocked her front door. Curious as to what kind of a day it would be, she stepped outside and inhaled. The sky was clearing, although a scattering of gray, wispy clouds still littered the morning sky. Behind them, the first gray fingers of dawn were tearing at the blanket of night, making way for the sunshine to follow.

  Ginny took a careful sip of the coffee, relishing the warmth and the kick of caffeine as it slid down her throat. After careful inspection of the rickety stoop, she settled down on the top step to finish her coffee. Only then did she realize that Sullivan Dean had parked his car behind hers. She glanced over at his cabin but saw no evidence of his presence. Probably still asleep.

  A slight wind ruffled through her hair, drying the lingering dampness. She lifted her face, studying the sky. It seemed to be clearing. That was good. No more storms. No more rain.

  Storms gave her such an unsettled feeling, and things were already unsettled enough. As she sat, she became aware of the faint sounds of a radio and decided that the manager’s alarm had probably gone off. When the sounds suddenly disappeared, she grinned and took another sip of coffee. Sounded like her theory was right. He hadn’t wanted to awaken any more abruptly than she had.

  A bird called from a nearby tree, and another answered from somewhere behind her cabin. Curious, she set down her cup and then strolled around the corner and walked a short distance behind the cabin to peer up through the limbs. As she did, she became aware of another sound. One that was more ominous. More threatening. The sound of rushing water.

  The river! Of course. After all the rain th
ey’d been having, it must be rolling at the banks. With the thought came the memory of another flood-swollen river and the image of Georgia falling through space, her habit billowing behind her like outspread wings.

  She turned away, her joy in the morning over, and as she did, heard the sound of an approaching vehicle. Although she felt reasonably safe, she couldn’t help remembering that Sullivan Dean had found her, and if he could, then so could anyone else. And, with no face to put to the danger she was in, Ginny bolted toward her cabin.

  She emerged from between the cabins just as a oneton dually pulled up at the manager’s office. The truck bed was full of fishing equipment, which fell with a clatter as the driver hit the brakes. As Ginny watched, three men spilled out of the cab, laughing and talking loudly. One of them tossed an empty beer can on the ground and then reached over the side of the truck bed and pulled out another beer from a partially buried ice chest.

  As he popped the top and turned to take the first drink, he saw Ginny. The grin that spread across his face made her nervous. In that moment, she knew she never should have stopped to watch. Trying to look nonchalant, she made herself walk toward the cabin when she wanted to run.

  “Hey, baby! Wait for me!” the man yelled. “I’ve got something that’ll put a sway in your step.”

  Ginny thought she heard the other two men telling him to shut up, but whatever they said, he seemed bent on ignoring.

  She was gauging the distance to her front door as no more than forty feet when she heard footsteps approaching on the gravel. She spun. He was coming toward her on the run.

  She didn’t think, she just reacted. Sully had told her if she needed him, just yell, so she did.

  Twice.

  At the top of her voice.

  It was hard to say who was more startled, Ginny or the stranger, but the half-naked man who came flying out of the cabin between them was armed and running. Sully’s hair was awry, his feet and chest bare, but the look on his face and the gun in his hand said it all. He spared her one quick glance, assuring himself that she was still in one piece, and then barked out an order.

  “Get in the cabin.”

  Ginny spun around and didn’t stop until she’d slammed the door behind her. Quickly she ran to the window and peered through the curtain. Sully had the stranger on the ground and was going through his pockets, while holding the other two men at bay with his gun, although she couldn’t hear what was being said. A few minutes later he yanked the man to his feet and then stood and watched until they all drove away. Once the pickup had disappeared, he turned and looked straight at her.

  Ginny found herself wanting to run to him in thanksgiving. When she saw him coming toward her cabin, she settled for something less dramatic and just met him at the door.

  “I suppose I overreacted.”

  He needed to tell her that she’d nearly stopped his heart. That the fear in her voice had yanked him out of a deep sleep with no mercy. That he’d stumbled into his jeans without thought for anything but her and getting to his gun, and that he’d been so damned scared he wouldn’t get to her in time. Instead, he just shrugged and shook his head.

  “You did what I told you to do.”

  Ginny nodded, then shivered suddenly and wrapped her arms around herself.

  “Was he drunk?”

  “And high.”

  “Lord,” she muttered. “Do you think they’ll come back?”

  “Probably. The manager is their father.”

  Ginny winced. “Nothing like making points with management.”

  “I told them you belonged to me and to leave you the hell alone.” He wasn’t surprised by the startled expression on her face, but he didn’t bother to explain. She could figure it out for herself.

  Strangely enough, Ginny chose not to comment, which did surprise him. Then, when she pointed toward the porch behind him, the last thing he expected her to say was, “Would you please get my cup?”

  He turned, saw the empty coffee cup and picked it up.

  “Want some?” she asked, as he walked inside and handed it to her.

  Her words curled around his belly and pulled his nerves in a knot. Some what? What he wanted right now had nothing to do with caffeine.

  “Yeah, sure,” he said. “If you’ve got extra.”

  Ginny nodded. “I owe you again.”

  Sully touched her then, on the shoulder, and only briefly. It was all he could afford.

  “We’re not keeping score on this one, okay?”

  She smiled, then ducked her head and went to get his coffee.

  Sully sighed as he watched her walk away. Her T-shirt had a hole near the hem and was faded to a dull, ugly gray. Her sweatpants weren’t much better. Tall and lithe to the point of being almost skinny, she was still so damned beautiful she made him ache.

  Laying his gun on the table, he combed his fingers through his hair. As he sat, he chose a chair that would give him the optimum view of her as she worked. It didn’t take five seconds for him to know this was getting too personal.

  He sighed.

  Son of a bitch.

  He shouldn’t have slept in her bed.

  When she turned around, he masked his emotions with a yawn and nodded his thanks when she handed him the coffee.

  “Since you’re up…”

  He grinned.

  “I’m going to fix some eggs. Are you interested?”

  Weighing the possibility of a couple more hours of sleep against sitting across the table from her again, the food won.

  “Sounds good. Need any help?”

  Ginny’s attention focused. “Can you cook?”

  “I’m not bad.”

  “That’s more than I can say,” she muttered. “Bring your coffee. You can do the bacon.”

  “What are you going to do?” he asked.

  “Watch?”

  Sully arched an eyebrow as she led the way into the kitchen. Damn, but he was in over his head.

  While they were cooking breakfast, the trio Sully had run off from the landing were cooking up something of their own. Carney, Dale and Freddie Auger didn’t cotton to being run off of their own daddy’s place of business. All they’d been looking for was a place to sleep off their three-day fishing party. It wasn’t the first time they’d spent more time drinking than fishing, and it wouldn’t be the last. But they all knew better than to go home in this condition. Their old ladies would never let them hear the end of it. Carney, the one who’d taken a shine to Ginny, was the most pissed and had spent the better part of the last hour talking about it.

  “Goddamn it! I’m tellin’ you both…ain’t no son of a bitch puttin’ me on the ground and livin’ to tell the tale.”

  Freddie was driving and didn’t bother to comment, leaving the commiserating up to their youngest brother, Dale. Dale was a yes-man from way back; no matter what they did, he always went along with the stunts, even when he knew he was making a mistake. Freddie didn’t have much respect for Dale, although he didn’t mind him hanging around.

  “I don’t blame you,” Dale said. “He didn’t have no call to pull a gun on you like that. You wasn’t doin’ nothin’ but havin’ yourself a little fun.”

  “Damn straight!” Carney said, and took another swig of his beer.

  A few more miles passed, during which time Carney kept getting drunker and drunker. Suddenly he slapped the dashboard of Freddie’s truck.

  “Turn this som’bitch around,” he mumbled. “I wanna see Daddy. We went to see Daddy, I wanna see him.”

  “Dang it, Carney, you’ll put a dent in my truck. Calm yourself down. We’ll see Daddy tomorrow after you’ve sobered up some, all right?”

  “No, I wanna see my ol’ daddy right now. He’s gettin’ on in years. What if he goes and dies on us tonight and I don’t get to tell him goodbye?” The tears in his voice changed to fury as his drunken thoughts continued to scatter. “It’d be that bitch’s fault. Her screamin’ like that and all. What the hell did she think I was gonna do?�
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  Freddy glared. “You know how you get when you’ve done too much dope. Probably thought you was gonna rape her, you dumb ass, and I can’t blame her. I wasn’t so sure about you myself.”

  “Yeah, Carney, you as much as told her what you was comin’ to give her,” Dale said.

  Carney slapped the side of Dale’s shoulder. “Shut the fuck up,” he muttered, and tossed his empty beer can out the window. “We’re goin’ to get us a motel room and sleep it off. We’ll see Daddy tomorrow, and that’s that.”

  Both brothers hushed for the moment, but Carney’s anger continued to simmer. He would make that woman and her old man sorry or know the reason why.

  Sully had almost finished dressing when his cell phone rang. He rounded the bed and grabbed it on the third ring.

  “Sullivan Dean.”

  “Hey, Sully, Dan Howard here. How’s it going?”

  Sully sat on the side of the bed. “All right. I suppose the boss called you?”

  “Yes. Thought I’d check in and let you know what’s going on. I’ve got people in all six cities, gathering information on each of the victims. You know, this thing gives me the creeps. While their deaths seem self-inflicted, they’re damned bizarre.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean,” Sully said. “And if you ask me, the most bizarre was Sister Mary’s.”

  “I heard she was a friend. I’m really sorry.”

  “Thanks. Actually, she’s the reason I even got involved.”

  “What about the Shapiro woman? Do you think she knows anything?”

  “No. She’s scared to death, hiding from the world and anything connected to telephones, but I’ll have to give it to her, she’s tough.”

  “That’s all right. Being tough might be what it takes to keep her breathing.”

  “I hear that,” Sully said.

  “Anything else I need to know about?” Dan asked.

  “Had a run-in this morning with three locals. I don’t think it’s anything serious, but I’m going to run a check on them just to make sure.”

  “Do you think they’re connected to this?”

  “No. Their dad manages the place where we’re staying. I think it’s just a case of bad luck and bad timing all the way around.”