by Susan Shay
“I’m coming anyway.” Yeah, there’d been a rule against interrupting, too, but it was one he chose to ignore when necessary. And right now it was necessary.
With a lift of her chin, she blinked once, then slowly made her way up the steps with him right behind her. Her color was either getting worse or they needed to invest in new lightbulbs for the stairway.
After they passed Miss Ruthy’s and Miss Marcie’s landing, they went up the last flight. At the edge of the corridor, Cassie glanced at him as if to silently ask, Is this far enough?
Grimly, he shook his head. No way.
When she crossed the hallway, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the key, but before she could unlock the door, he took it from her. “Let me.”
With a look of resignation, she shrugged and stepped back. After opening the door, he stepped inside, flipped on the lights, and quickly looked around. An old folding couch with a throw tossed on it, a wingback chair, a TV, and a bookshelf full of books filled it. In a place that small, there was no room for anyone to hide—except maybe the closet. And if she had any clothes at all in there, it would be a mighty tight fit for a grown man.
At his nod, she walked into the room. “Thank you for your concern, but I knew it wasn’t necessary.”
He couldn’t stop the smile that quirked one side of his mouth. “And you knew that, how?” Your psychic powers? he silently baited her.
“Because there’s only one way into my apartment, and I have the only key. With the open kitchen, there’s nowhere to hide. And I’m careful to leave the bathroom door open, so I can see right in.”
“What about the closet?” he teased.
Her eyes sparkled with unvoiced laughter as she glanced at the small wardrobe. “With everything that’s in there, he’d have to be a hunchback or a midget to fit.”
While she looked away, he stepped close and slid his arms around her. As she gasped in belated awareness, he slanted his mouth over hers, then a single word whispered through his mind.
Damn.
****
A terrible thirst awakened her to the dank smell of dirt filling the air. Beneath her the floor was cool, gritty, earthy. So cool she shivered and tried to get up, but found her hands held in the bite of metal cuffs. Crap. What was going on? Puzzlement changed to fear as she strained to see the room, but the complete absence of light blinded her.
Awkwardly, she levered to her feet, which were shackled, too. With her hands out in front of her, she shuffled a few feet until she met a wall made of packed dirt. A sob of frustration built in her throat as she turned the other way. After a few feet, she met another wall. More dirt. Frantic now, she edged along until she came to a corner, then another, and another. What the hell? Was she in an oversized grave? A small cellar? How the hell did she get there?
Unsure exactly where she’d started, she kept moving, looking for an opening. But instead of a way out, she banged into rough wood attached to the earthen wall. As she ran her fingers up the heavy board, hoping to find something to use to dig her way out, she realized what she was touching was a life-sized cross, too well-made to pull apart with her fingers.
Her fear changed to disgust, then blessed anger took over. What was she doing there? How in the hell did she get there? Who did she have to kill to get out? Because, by God, she was going to get out. And when she did, whoever did this to her was going to pay—big time.
It must be a man. Only people she knew who enjoyed the masochistic bondage thing were men. And when she got her hands on him, she was going to mash off his gonads, then shove them up his ass.
Son of a bitch! No lousy bastard was going to play this kind of game without her say so. And, by God, she didn’t say so.
Heart pounding so she could hardly breathe, Cassie awoke with a start. What a horrible dream. No, it was more than a dream. It had been a full-fledged, overblown, ride-till-it’s-finished-or-die-trying nightmare.
Sitting up in bed, she shoved back the light blanket and swung her feet to the floor.
She desperately needed a drink of water to clear the taste of dirt from her mouth. As she pushed to her feet, she felt the fading bite of the cold metal cuff on her ankle one last time and realized that it hadn’t been a normal nightmare.
She dreamed what some other woman lived. And the same monster who killed Lucy and Sharon had kidnapped that woman.
The police needed to know someone had been kidnapped and was being held...where? In a hole in the ground with a gigantic cross on the wall? What good would that do?
Without bothering to put on her slippers, she padded barefoot to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and pulled out a bottle of water. After uncapping it, she put it to her mouth and drank deeply. The clean cold taste of the liquid was heaven on her parched tongue. But then she cringed as guilt settled like a rock in her belly. Whoever the woman in the grave was, she had nothing to drink. Had no potpourri to freshen the dank air. And she had only her anger to keep her from falling apart.
And here she stood, knowing everything and doing nothing. But what could she do? Maybe, if she went out into the darkness while most of the world was still sleeping, she could find her. After all, the woman’s fear had been strong enough to leach into Cassie’s dreams. Maybe her emotions would be tough enough for Cassie to follow in the night.
Rushing to her dresser, she found warm clothes and quickly dressed. After pulling on thick socks and heavy shoes, she found her keys and left the apartment. Quietly, she let herself out of the apartment house and went to her car. Working as quickly as possible, she put the top down and fastened it back, then slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
But how to begin? Since Stone Hill was laid out like a large checkerboard, she decided to start at Main Street, then work both sides in gradually growing squares. Slowly she left the parking lot, then drove to the center street in town. As she sat at the stop light at one end, she closed her eyes and forced herself to relax, to get rid of her protection. No matter how devastating it might be to her, she must allow everything inside.
When she opened her eyes, the light was green, but how long it had been that way she didn’t know. Luckily, at 2:30 in the morning, there were no impatient drivers to honk at her. She eased down the street. As she drove, she noticed a slight mist gathering around the vapor lights that brightened her way.
What would happen to the woman in the grave if it rained? As fear coursed through her, she was tempted to shift into a higher gear in order to drive faster, but she couldn’t. If she did, she might miss something. A thought. A curse. A cry.
The funny thing was, although she was fairly certain she’d never met the woman, she was sure if she had, she would have liked her. Even with the mouth of a sailor, and the rough ways of a backwoods Arkansawyer, there was something about her that Cassie admired. Maybe it was her spunk. Her eagerness to fight rather than cry and cower. Her wish to—what was it?—mash off his gonads.
If, God forbid, Cassie couldn’t find her before it was too late, at least the monster who’d taken her might suffer. As she widened the circle, she opened her mind, reaching out to find strong emotions—something she’d rarely done in her life.
As she neared the motel close to the edge of town, she hoped everyone was asleep, but she was disappointed. Someone was awake, and their emotions were about to get the best of them. Having just made love, the person was trying to decide whether to tell her lover, who she shouldn’t have been with, that he must make a decision because she could no longer live without him.
Speeding up to get away from the pair, Cassie was thankful to turn at the next corner. She drove slowly for several more blocks until she reached the very edge of town. Unexpectedly, exhilaration plummeted into the pit of her belly. A sound she recognized as a shell being shoved into a rifle made her heart plunge. After she pulled into the night shadow of a large bare tree at the edge of the road, she turned off her headlights and held her breath as she waited. Was that him? He hadn’t shot his victims
before, but he could have threatened them with a gun to ensure their cooperation.
No, as he left the house, he thought of his deer stand in the woods. He was going hunting. Letting out the breath she’d been holding, she waited until the man drove away, then turned on her lights and started searching once more.
When she reached the edge of town, she paused and let her car idle. Now what? How could she conduct a search in the wide Texas countryside? Wouldn’t it be just a fruitless waste? With a glance at her watch, she saw it was minutes before sunrise. If the sky hadn’t been overcast, she would have noticed it brightening before now.
But she couldn’t just quit. Couldn’t simply turn around, go home, get dressed, and go to work, could she? What about the woman?
Searching with her mind as she sent out feelers, she drove until she came to Meander Road. Not there, please. Don’t let the monster have defiled my favorite spot in the world.
Resolutely she drove down the winding road. Unaware of the beauty except in passing, she tried to feel the woman. Her fear. Her anguish. Her anger.
But when she reached the highway at the far end of the wooded road, there had been nothing. Not an echo or a flicker or a sigh.
Unable to think what to do next, she turned the car for home.
After a long, hot shower, Cassie dressed for work. Maybe, if she went about her normal routine, she could think of something to do. Search for the woman? Call the police? Put herself into the public eye, then ask for help, and allow the Keegans of the world to target her?
Depressed by her helplessness, she forced herself to slip into black trousers and a matching turtleneck, then started brushing her hair. After gathering it in one hand, she twisted it to the back of her head and caught it with a giant clip.
With everything on her mind, that was the best she could do—and she was lucky to have done that much. When she finished, she forced herself to pick up her purse, then start out the door. Miriam would be waiting.
Stepping into the parking lot, she saw Miriam behind the steering wheel of her car, so she hurried the last few steps. “Sorry I’m late. It was a rough night,” she said as she opened the door.
“Must have been the full moon.” Miriam glanced at her from the corner of her eye without turning her head.
As Cassie slammed the door, settled into the seat, and buckled her seatbelt, Miriam stayed silent. Where was the constant chatter? The happy tidings? The guess what happened? she usually heard from her friend?
Then as Miriam looked over her shoulder while backing out of her space, Cassie saw a small bruise darkening her jaw. Alarm spread through her. Just as she opened her mouth to demand to know what had happened, she saw scratches on the back of Miriam’s hand that extended under the long sleeve.
Overly concerned after her sleepless night, she caught Miriam’s wrist. “My God, Miriam. What happened to you? You look like you were in a cat fight.”
Another glance from the corner of Miriam’s eye seemed for a long moment all the answer Cassie was going to get. Her heart pumped hard. There had never been signs of a physical altercation on her friend before—Miriam wasn’t the type. Could someone have tried to kidnap her, and she was too overwrought to tell? Had she been in an accident? Had she, in her new single status, started to explore the world of kinky sex?
Miriam sighed, then gave Cassie a weak smile. “A cat fight? I wish it had been that exciting. When I got home last night I couldn’t sleep, so I got some things done around the house that I’d been putting off. I guess I should have waited until I had help.”
Almost laughing at her last thought, Cassie shook her head. “Did you have fun on your date last night?”
Tugging her sleeve as far as possible over the scratches, Miriam nodded. “I had a...nice time.”
Even without her gift, Cassie would have known Miriam was being evasive. “Did you stay in Stone Hill?”
One side of Miriam’s mouth curled derisively. “What’s there to do in Stone Hill on Thanksgiving night? Besides, anything that happens here, the entire world is going to hear about.” After an uncertain peek at Cassie, she continued. “I’m going to take off early this afternoon. Do you mind closing up?”
Cassie shook her head, but remained quiet. If there was a clue as to what was going on with her friend, why she was acting so mysteriously, she couldn’t find it.
As they pulled up to the store, Miriam didn’t kill the car’s engine. “Go ahead and open up. Keegan should be here soon, and I’ll be right back. I just have to take Steve some of his tools he forgot when he left.”
Cassie got out of the car, then waited a moment. She hated for Miriam to just drive off with the odd estrangement between them. But rather than waiting for what she had to say, Miriam sped off, giving her barely enough time to slam the door.
Worried and unsure, Cassie dug in her purse for the keys and let herself into the store. After shutting off the alarm, she turned on a few lights and started the morning routine.
At least while she was alone, she could think about the poor woman in the cellar. Something must be done. Knowing of her—alone somewhere, buried alive—was like carrying a boulder on her heart. Maybe, if she told someone what she’d seen, they would recognize it. But who to tell?
The police were the obvious choice, but would they believe her? After all, she’d only worked with them the time the little girl had been kidnapped. They might have a hard time accepting her nebulous suggestion that a woman she didn’t know had been kidnapped and was in some kind of grave.
Besides, most of the men in the local department were fairly new to the area. If any of them did believe her, had they been around Stone Hill long enough to know where the woman could be?
As long as Keegan has lived here, he would know. The thought filtered into her mind before she could block it. She couldn’t tell the man. After all, he was just looking for a reason to debunk her. Why hand it to him on a platter?
At Keegan’s familiar knock—rat...ta-tat-tat—Cassie went to unlock the door, but was surprised to find him standing there with a pair of policemen. Frowning, he stared at her a moment, then walked into the store. “This is Detective Phillips and Officer Allen. They’d like a few words with you.”
Mentally, she sighed as she recognized Terrence Phillips, the detective she’d worked with when the little girl had been kidnapped. At least they’d taken the decision out of her hands. She wouldn’t have to decide whether to talk to Keegan or the police. Now she’d have to talk to all of them, unless she could take the policemen to the coffee shop and leave Keegan to tend the front. With little hope, she gave them her brightest smile. “All right. If you want to watch the register, Keegan, we’ll go to the back. I haven’t made coffee yet.”
“The register will be just fine,” he answered as he relocked the front door.
Shrugging her resignation, she turned to walk to the coffee shop. With the pot set up from the night before, all she had to do was flip a switch, so they were quickly seated at one of the marble-topped tables. “Coffee will be ready in a few moments, gentlemen. Now, what can I do for you?”
For the first time, she glanced closely at the two men. She was glad to see Detective Phillips. He’d been easy to work with before, was older, and his face was comfortably weathered. His clothes were clean and neat, but had seen some wear. Officer Allen was in his mid-twenties and eager. His uniform was brand new with the creases pressed sharp, and he smelled faintly of aftershave.
Allen quirked his mouth and took a sharp breath, but Phillips shook his head as he gave him a fleeting look. Let me do the talking, was the clear inference. An almost unperceivable shrug and nod from Allen signaled his compliance.
Phillips folded his hands on the table, then leaned toward her. “Ms. Reynolds, we could really use your help again.”
Reluctantly, she nodded. She didn’t want to do this. Didn’t want this trouble dropped in her lap like a hissing snake. Didn’t want to face the reality of having to go public with her gift. But sin
ce Keegan was there, she didn’t have much choice—about going public, anyway. “How can I help you, gentlemen?”
“I don’t know if you’ve heard or not, but it’s possible we have a serial killer in Stone Hill.” The policeman’s words made the problem seem even worse, if possible. As if coming from a cop, the possible trouble became fact. “And, since you were so much help with the missing girl, we thought...”
“Whether you assist us or not, we’ll catch the bastard,” the younger man interrupted. “But we thought if you could help, we might save a few lives.”
Noticing the coffee was finished brewing, she glanced at the men. “Would you all like some coffee?”
“I’ll get it.” Keegan was on his feet before any of them could answer. He poured four mugs, then picking them up by the handles, set them on the table. “Sugar and creamer on the bar.”
“In the department, you learn fast to drink it black,” Allen answered, then directed his gaze to Cassie. “So, will you help us?”
Picking up the cup nearest her, she closed her eyes and took a careful sip. Not finding what strength she needed, she reached deep inside. But even there, she found no other choice. “I planned to call you this morning.”
Phillips raised an eyebrow at her announcement, while a triumphant smile brightened Allen’s face, but it was Keegan’s shock that astounded her. Why was he surprised that she would volunteer to help? Because she’d sidestepped discussions of her gift with him? Didn’t he know that when someone was in danger, she couldn’t hide behind her right to privacy? She must lend a helping hand.
After all these weeks, hadn’t he come to know her at all?
She looked at the policemen. “Another woman has been kidnapped, hasn’t she?”
When Allen started to answer, Phillips elbowed him broadly. “What do you know?”
Closing her eyes for a moment, she tried to organize her thoughts. What did she know? Nothing. What had she seen? She wasn’t sure. Hoping she wouldn’t sound cryptic, she looked from one to the other, then at Keegan. There was no other way. She’d must simply tell them what she’d experienced, then let them take it from there.