by Anne Logan
But as she turned to leave, Maddie caught her by the arm. “Just one thing. Keep in mind that stereo wasn’t introduced until 1958, so the songs on those discs aren’t going to be near the quality you’re used to hearing.”
“Oh, sure.” She turned to leave, but hesitated, turning back to Maddie. “How did you know that—I mean about the year and everything?”
Maddie smiled at the teenager and shrugged. “Just a bit of music trivia I picked up somewhere along the way.” What she didn’t tell Carla was how she had spent hours combing through library books, and how she had researched everything she could get her hands on about music history and theory. Contrary to what Alex believed about entertainers and people in her profession, most of them, including herself, were serious about their careers and firm believers in education, whether formal or self-taught.
While Maddie was busy putting the finishing touches on her special chicken and spaghetti recipe, Alex set the table. Both of them paused when the scratchy strains of the old love song, “I Want to Hold You in My Arms,” drifted into the kitchen. Instantly recognizing the tune, Maddie felt a momentary wave of bittersweet nostalgia. “Michael loved all the old songs,” she said softly. “We both did.”
Then, like a piece of steel being drawn to a magnet, she turned her head, and her gaze met Alex’s sympathetic one. But as they continued staring at each other, something more than sympathy darkened his eyes, a masculine hunger that sent an answering wave of heat racing through her. And as the words of the song continued to weave their spell around them, Maddie knew that if he made the slightest move toward her, she would be powerless to resist him.
Then, as if he had suddenly realized what was happening, he looked away. The implication of his deliberate action spoke loud and clear, sending a jolt of reality through her.
“Well, at least it’s an improvement over the stuff she usually listens to,” he said with a hint of strain in his voice.
Slowly, Maddie turned back to the simmering spaghetti sauce. She hadn’t imagined what had just occurred, hadn’t imagined the desire that had sizzled between them. And his ease at dismissing it was just one more reminder of their vast differences, of who she was and what she held dear in life, and of who Alex was…An unlikely combination, by anyone’s stretch of the imagination, she thought as a sad little smile pulled at her lips. And as always, whenever she was faced with an intense emotional issue, she resorted to the one thing she had always been secure about—her singing.
At the sound of Maddie’s voice singing along with the song, Alex closed his eyes and his fingers tightened around the knife he was holding. For a moment, he’d almost given in to the temptation to do exactly what the lyrics of the old song said. The impulse to reach out and pull her into his arms, the hunger to feel her pressed tightly against his body—even now, he still throbbed with the need…
Maddie’s pure voice singing along in perfect harmony was a jolting reminder that no matter what he thought he’d begun to feel for her, it would lead to nothing but trouble. He’d already made one mistake, marrying a woman who wasn’t his kind. And because the consequences had cost him almost everything, he’d vowed then that if he ever found another woman, one he cared enough about to enter into a meaningful relationship with, she would have to be someone very special, someone who valued the same things he did, not someone who had her head in the clouds…Keep your head out of the clouds and your feet planted firmly in the dirt... His father’s words reverberated through his mind. Straight and narrow, Alex…Stay on the straight and narrow…
Yes, Alex thought, Maddie was too different. Everything about her was the antithesis of what he wanted in his life…everything but the powerful chemistry between them, he reluctantly admitted.
While a part of him didn’t want her to leave…ever, the thought of someone hurting her was more than he could tolerate. If he could only persuade her to stay in Nashville, at least she would be out of harm’s way until he could track down the man he suspected was stalking her and find out what the man was after. The one thing he was sure of now was that the stalker and the inconsistencies surrounding Maddie’s brother’s death were somehow connected. There simply wasn’t another logical explanation.
Alex opened the cabinet door and removed three glasses from the shelf. Before their impromptu trip was over, he would have to find some way to persuade her to stay in Nashville, he decided.
The old love song abruptly ended, followed by a brief silence.
“I think the sauce is ready,” Maddie said quietly.
The words had no sooner left her mouth than another sound erupted from the living room, a sound which was the antithesis of the romantic song they had just listened to.
Hand suspended in midair, Alex instantly froze. It was more of a drone than music; yet, the eerie chanting had a strange kind of mesmerizing sound not unlike that of a religious ritual. But Alex had heard the sinister sound before, and he knew that it was a far cry from any Christian ritual. “Alex? My God, what’s wrong?” “Nothing,” he answered, yet his tone indicated otherwise. “Are you sure? You’re as pale as chalk.” He shook his head. “It’s that—that noise…” Maddie shuddered. “It is kind of creepy, but—” “You don’t understand. It’s more than that.” Maddie frowned. “Alex, it’s just music. Granted, it’s weird music, but it’s—”
“Evil, Maddie. Evil!” he repeated louder. “A few months back, I arrested and booked a man for being drunk and disorderly, and every time I tried to question him, he began chanting that same garbage. The following morning, he was found dead in his jail cell. The other prisoners complained that he’d been chanting all night, so we concluded that he’d evidently worked himself into a frenzy and hanged himself.” Maddie gasped.
“Oh, but there’s more,” he continued, his tone harsh. “We found out later that the dead man was part of a secret cult called the Dark Rite, a cult that we also suspect is responsible for the sudden rash of missing teenagers in the area over the last few months.”
“Oh, dear Lord,” Maddie murmured. “I’ve heard of such things, but—” She jerked her head toward the door leading to the living room then back to Alex.
And as their gazes clashed, they both cried out, “Carla!” at the same time.
A look of pure terror flashed in Alex’s eyes, and he was off like a shot with Maddie close on his heels.
What Alex saw when he entered the living room sent chills of horror dancing down his spine. Carla, dressed in her usual black, was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the gramophone. Her arms were resting on her thighs, palms up as if beseeching some invisible entity for understanding. Her eyes were wide and unblinking, staring into space. And all the while, the room continued to vibrate with the chanting drone coming from the gramophone.
Alex broke out into a cold sweat. He didn’t want to think it, didn’t want to believe that his daughter could possibly have been duped into joining the sinister cult, but he also couldn’t ignore her erratic behavior in the last few months—the late nights, her strange choice of clothes and the most damning evidence of all, her secretiveness. Still, he told himself that most of the missing teenagers had come from well-to-do families, and Carla—
Alex swore beneath his breath. With Joan’s recent marriage, Carla was now the stepdaughter of a very wealthy neurosurgeon.
“Carla!” His voice was a cry of desperation. Even in his terror-stricken state of mind, it registered that Maddie had stepped closer to him, as if to lend emotional support, and Alex was grateful for the reassuring gesture.
For what seemed like an aeon, Carla didn’t respond to Maddie or her father. Alex wanted to shake her, but instead he marched straight to the gramophone, and with deliberate but jerky movements, removed the disc.
For a moment more, Carla didn’t move. Then suddenly, she blinked, and as if coming out of a trance, she looked up at her father, a puzzled expression on her face.
“Is something wrong?”
“This—” he held out the
disc “—this is wrong.”
Carla giggled nervously. “I thought the beat was really rad, really kinda cool. It sucks you right in.”
“Sucks you right in?” Alex felt himself fast losing what little composure he had left. He kept seeing the look on Carla’s face before he’d stopped the music. It was the same empty look that the man who had hanged himself had worn when he’d begun chanting, and it scared the hell out of Alex. All he could think of was that somehow, someway, the bastards had gotten to his little girl.
“This is trash, pure trash.” He waved the disc at Maddie. “Junk like this should be destroyed.”
“Dad? Good grief, what’s your problem? It’s just a silly song. No need to go ballistic.”
“Alex, Carla’s right.” Maddie laughed nervously, but Alex was in no mood for humor.
“I don’t see anything funny about—” he flung his hand out toward the gramophone “—any of this.” He raised his voice. “It is not silly and has no resemblance whatsoever to a song. It’s an evil tool used by sadistic, unscrupulous people.”
“Aw, come on, Dad.” A look of alarm flashed in Carla’s eyes. “Lighten up. What people?”
“Alex—” Maddie reached out and took hold of his arm. “You’re overreacting…and you’re frightening your daughter.”
Maddie’s calm, soothing voice, along with her firm hold on his arm, made Alex pause and take a deep breath. He turned to her, and she released her hold.
“I don’t know why your brother would possess such a thing,” he said. “But I’m telling you, it should be destroyed.”
Maddie frowned. “I hope you’re not suggesting that Michael was part of a cult.”
“Cult? What cult?” Carla asked.
Alex ignored her, his gaze concentrated on Maddie. “I’m not suggesting anything, but I’m telling you that you should smash that disc into a thousand pieces.”
Maddie shook her head. “Come on, now, be reasonable.” She reached out and took the disc from his outstretched hand. “Michael probably kept this for no other reason than it’s a valuable antique, just like the gramophone and the rest of the discs in that box. And I have no intention of destroying it until I find out more about it.”
For seconds, Alex glared at Maddie as if testing his will against hers. “I can’t make you destroy it,” he finally said, his voice clipped and cool, his tone still simmering with anger. “But I can forbid Carla to play it again in my home.”
Carla looked genuinely puzzled. “Jeez, what’s the big deal? What cult?”
A look of rage flashed in his eyes. Then, without answering, Alex stalked out of the room.
“I don’t understand…What did I do that was so wrong?” Carla asked Maddie.
“It has nothing to do with what you did,” Maddie answered. Then she tried to explain what Alex had told her about the man in jail and the missing teenagers. Afterward, she and Carla silently packed the discs into the cardboard storage box.
In his bedroom, Alex shut the door firmly behind him and began pacing the length of the small room. Feeling as if a raging battle was being fought in his head, he took several deep breaths until he finally calmed down enough to admit that he probably had overreacted, just as Maddie had said.
But it was more than that, he reasoned. What he hadn’t told Maddie, what he hadn’t taken time to explain was that two of the missing teenagers had been found…both dead…mutilated and cast aside like so much garbage.
He’d been one of the first detectives to arrive at the grisly scene, and even now his stomach turned inside out as he remembered.
Alex stopped pacing and sank onto the edge of the bed. Covering his face, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. There was something more bothering him, though, he realized, something nagging at his insides. And even though he couldn’t remember exactly what, he had a feeling it had something to do with the gramophone…and Maddie. Something important…but what?
He pressed his fingers against his tightly closed eyes as if by doing so he could squeeze the elusive information from his mind. “Dammit, think, man,” he muttered.
Alex remained in his room until dinner was ready.
The meal was a quiet, tense affair, and as soon as Maddie felt she could do so without being obvious, she excused herself on the pretense of needing a long soak in a hot bath.
But not even her tried-and-true method of relaxing and escaping reality worked this time. Long after the water had cooled, she still felt as if she were blindly stumbling through a dark abyss. The unexplained break-ins, the threats of the intruder, the mystery surrounding the key and the gramophone, not to mention her mixed-up feelings for Alex—too many questions without any answers.
“I don’t know why your brother would possess such a thing.” Alex’s question about the disc kept recurring, but long after the apartment had grown quiet for the night and Maddie was lying in Alex’s bed, she stil l couldn’t come up with a better answer than the one she had given him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
NASHVILLE, better known as Music City, U.S.A.
They had only been in Nashville overnight. Unlike his other trip when he’d been there on business, Alex felt like a fish out of water as he and Maddie stood off to the side of the posh, studio reception area and watched Carla.
Vibration Recording Studio, located on Nashville’s famous Music Row was where Maddie’s friend worked and where they had ended up after a quick tour of the Country Music Hall of Fame.
Now, if Maddle’s friend would show up, he thought, they could get this over with. The room was crowded with musicians, and he’d never felt more conspicuous in his life standing around in the middle of what his father referred to as “those long-haired hippie types.”
Ever since they had stepped foot inside the studio, Carla had been surrounded by several of the studio personnel and musicians—all people Maddie knew and all laughing and talking a language he didn’t understand, just one more thing that made him ill at ease.
“Just look at her,” Maddie said. “Even you have to admit she’s a far cry from that sullen, argumentative teenager that climbed out of the car last night.”
Alex’s expression turned sour. Feeling restless and edgy, he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms against his chest. “Yeah, she’s on a real high right now,” he said, sarcasm oozing, “but this is a far cry from the reality of what she wants to do, and it won’t last. Pipe dreams never do.”
Maddie rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Oh, great,” she muttered. “Here we go again.” The minute they left New Orleans’ city limits, she had felt the fear of the past few days fade. She’d felt safe just being with Alex and getting away from the city.
But what she hadn’t counted on was trading one source of stress for another. Her neck muscles were still sore from the constant strain of verbally sparring with him during the long trip, the trip she was beginning to think of as the road trip from hell. Over eight hours of bickering and tension.
At times, Maddie had felt as if she were the uninvited referee between father and daughter, while at other times, she had felt as if she were playing the role of a defense attorney who already knew that the outcome would be a deadlocked jury. Still, even if she wanted to, there was no way she could let his last remark pass without voicing her opinion.
“How can you say something like that? Do you have a crystal ball or are you so all-knowing that you can tell the future?”
“I can say it because I’ve been there, Maddie.” His voice rose and anger glittered in his eyes. “And believe me, when it all crashed around me, it wasn’t a pretty sight,” he said bitterly. “Carla is my flesh and blood, and I’ll be damned if I just sit back and watch her self-destruct because of some compulsive streak that was passed through the genes. Dreams don’t pay the rent or put food on the table.”
Maddie gritted her teeth. Planting her fists on her hips, she whirled to face him. “I swear, you’re so brainwashed with your damned blue-collar work-ethic mentality
that trying to talk to you is like talking to a brick wall.” Her temper flared hotter. “You and what you think of as your kind don’t have a monopoly on hard work. All of these people—” she flung out her hand to include everyone surrounding Carla “—every single one of them works damn hard, just as hard as you do. And that includes me,” she added fiercely. “Just what in the hell gives you the right to sit in judgment? Look at her, Alex! Really look at your daughter.”
Alex didn’t have to look at Carla to know what Maddie meant or what he would see. He’d already witnessed his daughter’s metamorphosis from a moody, rebellious teenager to an animated, eager girl whose eyes seemed to glow with some inner light that he couldn’t begin to understand. She had even traded in her standard black wardrobe for jeans and a T-shirt. Maddie’s influence, he thought, which brought him back full circle to his dilemma and the point he was trying to make.
“But is it so wrong to want more for her than pipe dreams,” he asked quietly, almost as if talking to himself. “To want the best for her?”
For the briefest of moments, it was as if he’d shed his armor, and Maddie saw that even someone who was sensible and pragmatic most of the time could be vulnerable, could have doubts. Something hard twisted beneath her breast, and the growing feelings for him that she had so painstakingly kept hidden swelled out of control.
“No one gives you a manual on how to raise a child,” he continued, “especially a child that you see only occasionally. And no one prepares you for the consequences of making the wrong decisions. For the most part, all you have to go by is how your own parents raised you.”
With the mention of his parents, Maddie suddenly recalled a particular argument that he and Carla had had during the trip. Even now, she could hear Carla desperately trying to reason with him…
“Aw, come on, Dad,” the girl had argued. “I hear enough of that stuff every time I visit Grandma and Grandpa. Go to college,” she had mimicked. “Be a nurse or a teacher…boring, boring, boring.”