Midnight Sacrifice

by Melinda Leigh

  Tony sipped from a travel mug. “Do you actually like getting up this early?”

  “I have four kids. My house is chaos. I haven’t slept past six in more years than I want to count.” Kevin flipped the line back and cast again. Satisfaction welled as the fly set down like the real thing. Still, the trout were MIA this morning. “You’ll see. When’s Jenna due? September, right?”

  “Yeah. Honeymoon’s over, I guess.” Tony grimaced. “Is it really going to be that bad?”

  Kevin laughed and smiled as Hunter sent another fly out over the water. “Kids are great. They just think sleeping is a waste of time.”

  “Fish get up early, right, Dad?” Hunter added.

  “Right.” Kevin played the fly across the river’s surface. “And if you hadn’t tried to keep up with Paul tossing back the Heineys last night, that gong wouldn’t be ringing in your head right now. You’d be enjoying the morning with me and Hunter.”

  Tony bowed his head in mock shame. “I let Paul lead me astray. It’s his fault.”

  “You’re too old to keep up with our baby brother.” Kevin laughed. Just twenty-one, Paul was still in spring-break-no-real-job mode. “Is college boy still sleeping?”

  “Like a dead man.” Tony drained his cup.

  “More like a single man.”

  “No sh—kidding.” Tony corrected himself with a glance at Hunter. “I’m getting out of the cold. I’ll start breakfast and brew a fresh pot.”

  “Cool. I’m starving,” Hunter said.

  Tony grinned. “OK, kid. Coming right up. How does bacon and eggs sound?”

  “Awesome.” Hunter popped his fly across the water like a champ. He stopped suddenly and gave his uncle a pointed stare. “Do I have to eat fruit?”

  “Nope,” Uncle Tony answered. “This is Man Week, a vacation from balanced meals, personal hygiene, and all things pink.”

  “Woo hoo.” Hunter pumped a fist in the air and grinned.

  Kevin winced. His boy was going to smell like a sewer by the end of the week. But he’d be happy. With three younger sisters, Hunter often complained their house looked like the inside of the Pepto-Bismol bottle. They lived in Barbieland. “Since my superior angling skills have failed to land a trout, bacon and eggs sound great to me, too.”

  “I’m on it.” Laughing, Tony headed back toward the cabin.

  The breeze picked up and rustled through nearby trees. Kevin zipped his nylon jacket to his chin. His stomach rumbled. Coffee and bacon would hit the spot. Maybe when the wind died down, they’d land a few fish. They still had five more days of Man Week, but Kevin wanted his son to land a trout. This week was special to the Dougherty men. “Come on, Hunter. Let’s get some food.”

  “Can we try again later?”

  “Of course. We have nothing else to do all day.” Kevin packed up their stuff. Hunter led the way, heading up the narrow trail that serpentined back to the cabin. A shiver swept over Kevin as they walked into the shadow of the forest. A dozen yards into the woods, an itchy sensation between his shoulder blades pulled his eyes to the path behind him. Empty.

  Something splashed in the river. Probably the trout mocking them.

  A scraping sound, like metal over rock, lifted the hairs on his arms. He glanced backed again. Nothing. But he moved closer to his son.

  They continued up the trail. What was his deal? Sure, upstate Maine was a hell of a lot different than the North Jersey suburbs. That’s why they drove all the way up here, to get away from the horns and the exhaust fumes and the cell phone that buzzed 24/7. To relax. To bond with his son. Usually, Kevin loved the solitude of the deep woods, but this morning it didn’t feel as empty as usual.

  Or as empty as it should.

  Something moved in the underbrush.

  Putting a hand on his son’s shoulder, he quickened his pace. What kind of predators lived up here? Bears? Wolves? A figure stepped out from behind a tree.

  “Tony?” Kevin squinted.

  The man moved forward, closer to Hunter, out of the tree’s shadow. Not Tony. This guy was tall and wiry. His khakis and jacket were new, at odds with the scraggly blond hair and beard. His piercing blue eyes had this weird look in them. Fanatical? Or feral.

  “Can I help you?” Kevin pulled Hunter behind him. His spine tingled with inexplicable discomfort. The guy was probably just a lost fisherman or camper. It happened, especially to guys not accustomed to the wilderness, like Kevin and his brothers.

  He glanced up the trail. The stranger was between them and the cabin.

  “Yes, I think that you can.” The stranger pulled something out of his pocket. Oh, shit. A gun! Kevin blocked Hunter’s body with his own. No, wait. It was black and yellow. What the—? Something buzzed. Tiny darts flew from the point. Every muscle in Kevin’s body went rigid at once. Paralyzed, he fell over like a downed tree. Unable to fling a hand out to break his fall, his body crashed to the hard earth.

  “Dad!”

  In Kevin’s mind he yelled at Hunter to run. But the air whooshed from his lungs, and his throat refused to obey his command. His limbs wouldn’t respond either. Hunter was no dummy and took off down the trail, yelling, “Uncle Tony, help!”

  But he was no match for the stranger’s longer legs. The tall man had the boy around the waist in seconds. One hand clamped over Hunter’s mouth, silencing his shrieks.

  All Kevin could do was twitch and watch in agony as the stranger hauled his kicking and writhing son toward the water. His soul screamed as they disappeared from sight. The stranger returned in a few seconds. He pulled a sack over Kevin’s head and tied his hands together. Blinded and bound, panic rose in his chest. Where was his son? Hands grabbed his ankles, and his helpless body was dragged through the dirt. His torso bounced off rocks and exposed roots. The ground smoothed out, then water lapped at his clothes. He was lifted, and his body landed on something hard. Metal echoed, and the scents of river water and fish flooded his nostrils. A canoe or kayak? He managed a slight roll and came up against a small body. Hunter?

  The vessel rocked as his captor pushed off and climbed in.

  Kevin moved his feet. The connection between his brain and body seemed to be recovering. Had he been Tased?

  A rope encircled his ankles and went tight.

  “Hold still unless you want your boy to go for a swim right now.” His captor’s voice was flat, and the lack of emotion sent a new wave of terror crawling through Kevin’s bowels. “The way he’s trussed, he’ll drown in seconds.”

  Despair filled him as he obediently stopped moving. Whatever this crazy man’s plan was, Kevin and his son were completely helpless.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Danny steered onto the ramp and followed the directions into the town of Northton. After passing a Walmart, a few strip centers, and an army/navy surplus store, Danny cruised up to the one-story gray clapboard Maine State Police Barracks. The cop who was handling his sister’s case, Detective Rossi, was part of the Major Crimes Unit, a handful of detectives sprinkled over a huge expanse of territory.

  The morning sun hit Danny’s back as he crossed the parking lot, but inside, the station was chilly and damp. Danny gave his name to the secretary behind the counter. Ignoring the plastic chairs, he paced the dingy linoleum while he waited. The cold and early morning drive time had left his muscles cramped. The fingers of his left hand had gone twitchy again. He shoved it in his jacket pocket.

  Police stations always gave him the willies. In his youth, he’d spent some time on the wrong side of the counter.

  “Mr. Sullivan.”

  Danny turned.

  Detective Rossi looked the same as he had in December, tall and wiry, with sharp, gray cop eyes that swept over Danny and categorized every inch of him in three seconds. “Come on back.”

  Trying not to feel like he was fourteen and in trouble, Danny followed the cop to a small, generic conference room.

  “Coffee?”

  “Sure, thanks.” Danny slid into an office chair.

&nbs
p; Rossi handed him a Styrofoam cup. “I’m not sure I understand why you’re here.”

  The coffee tasted like acid. “The family was disturbed by your last phone call.”

  “I can understand that you’re upset.”

  “Upset?” Danny set the cup on the table. “You’re closing Jayne’s case while one of the men who abducted and tried to kill my sister is still at large. Nathan Hall also kidnapped three boys, including her fiancé’s son, and tried to kill them in a ritual human sacrifice. He murdered a college kid and a chief of police. And you’ve stopped looking for him?”

  “I never said we were closing the case, and we’ll be looking for Nathan Hall until we find him dead or alive.” Rossi leaned back in his chair and scrutinized Danny. The cop’s determined calm was sandpaper to Danny’s nerves.

  He stared back. Anger boiled under the discomfort. He wasn’t a juvenile delinquent anymore. He was a man who’d sacrificed for his country, and then come home to even more violence committed against his family. This damned cop owed him some respect. He straightened. Veterans didn’t slouch. “My sister deserves an end to this bullshit.”

  “I agree completely.” Rossi sat up, laced his fingers, and rested his forearms on the edge of the table. “But I’ll be honest with you. It’s been four months since Nathan Hall disappeared. Despite an extensive statewide manhunt, there have been no substantiated sightings of him. None. No activity on any of his financial accounts. No evidence that he’s still alive. Unless he had help from someone, we have no idea how he vanished. As far as we can tell, no one in town knew the truth about his disease. The only loose end in the whole case is the unknown girlfriend.”

  “What girlfriend?”

  Rossi drank some coffee and made a sour face as he set it aside. “We did find some evidence, like receipts for flowers and condoms, in his office at the diner that suggested there was a woman in his life, but we haven’t been able to identify her. Apparently he kept the affair a secret.”

  “Why would he do that? He’s single.”

  “But maybe she isn’t,” the cop said. “We can’t find anyone in town who knew about her.”

  “That’s a really small town. Seems odd no one knew.”

  “No one who’s talking anyway. Only one other lead has come in lately.”

  “What is it?”

  The cop stood. “Let’s take a walk.”

  Rossi led him through the building and out the back door. A chain-link fence encircled the rear lot. Heavy-duty chains secured the extra-wide gates. They passed a few rows of police cruisers, then some civilian vehicles. They went into a large garage. Dampness seeped from the concrete floor through the soles of Danny’s running shoes. Rossi stopped in front of a rust-spotted SUV with four flat tires and broken windows.

  “This is Nathan’s SUV. Last week we pulled it out of the Long River about three miles north of Lake Walker. As you can see, it appears as if it’s been there all winter.”

  “I assume he wasn’t in it?”

  “No. No sign of a body in or around the vehicle, but with the temps of the water in winter, there’s no way he survived if he went in with the car.”

  “The key word there is if,” Danny pointed out.

  Rossi nodded. “True.” The cop wasn’t prone to bullshit. It was the only thing Danny liked about him. “Evidence techs pretty much came up empty, too.”

  “How did the SUV get into the river?”

  “Looks like it went off in front of a small bridge just before the beginning of the guardrail.”

  “So maybe an accident. Maybe not.”

  “Exactly.” The detective sighed.

  “Do you think he’s dead?”

  “I don’t know.” Rossi’s frown lines went Grand Canyon. “Officially, the case is still open. But Nathan Hall suffers from a genetic brain disease. The neurologist we consulted said he could live another eighteen months at the most. The condition is degenerative. His ability to function will deteriorate over time. In six months to a year, Nathan won’t be a threat to anyone no matter where he is.”

  That was a long time for his sister to stew. Danny tensed. The ache in his arm intensified. A psycho could do a lot of damage in a year. “But you’re not actively looking for him anymore?”

  “Nathan is still at the top of our Most Wanted list, and we will investigate any sightings, but unless new evidence comes in, I honestly don’t know where we’d look. We combed this state and came up with nothing.” Rossi crushed his Styrofoam cup and tossed it into the trash. “If he’s still alive, he’s probably far, far away.”

  “But you don’t know that.”

  “No, I don’t,” Rossi said. “But northern Maine is surrounded on three sides by six hundred miles of Canadian border. It’s impossible to secure the entire length of it, even with air patrols and sensors.”

  “So, you’re giving up?” Danny’s mood and voice went flat. Damned cops. They always had plenty of time to chase down teenagers, but murderers? Too much effort. “What about the unknown girlfriend?”

  “I told you we ran into a wall with her.” Rossi walked toward the exit. Danny had no choice but to follow. “This case is a very big deal to us, Mr. Sullivan. Maine has less than twenty-five murders annually, and we close ninety percent of those cases. We will keep it open, but the trail is ice-cold. If I get any more leads, I’ll let you know. Can I reach you at home?”

  “I’ll be in Huntsville for a couple of weeks.” Danny gave the cop his cell number.

  Rossi pulled a small notebook and pen from his pocket and wrote it down. “You’re not going back to Philadelphia?”

  “Nope. Not just yet.”

  Rossi scowled. “The residents of Huntsville have been through hell. They don’t need all this dredged up again.”

  Danny didn’t respond. He and Rossi stared at one another for a few seconds.

  The door opened. A uniformed officer leaned into the garage. “Excuse me, Detective Rossi. The captain needs to see you.”

  Rossi held out a hand. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you, Mr. Sullivan. Remember what I said.”

  “Thanks for trying.” Not. Reluctantly, Danny returned the handshake. He took his time following Rossi back through the station and into the reception area. A new energy buzzed through the air. People were scurrying around and looking worried. On the way through the building, Danny caught snatches of conversation from three cops huddled around a desk.

  “Man, I hate it when people just disappear.”

  “I’m telling you. Kid fell in the river. Dad went in after him. They both probably drowned. They’ll find the bodies downstream.”

  “Man, that’s horrible. But you’re probably right. It’s still weird, though. All their stuff was at least fifty feet from the water.”

  They clammed up when Danny passed them. Outside, the air didn’t feel as fresh as it had earlier.

  The lack of closure was giving his sister nightmares. She should be able to have a normal life. Danny couldn’t think of a better wedding present for Jayne and Reed than Nathan’s head on a silver platter, metaphorically speaking. Or not.

  It’s not like Danny had anything else to do. During his stint in the army, his three older siblings had managed Sullivan’s Tavern just fine without him. He wasn’t really needed at home. Danny started the engine. Buildings and other signs of civilization gave way to pristine forest as he drove back to the interstate. An 18-wheeler in front of his car belched out a dingy gray cloud of exhaust. Danny’s imagination was pulled back to the cops’ conversation. I hate it when people just disappear.

  Danny couldn’t agree more. Maine wasn’t the perfect place it appeared to be. Just like everywhere else, evil lurked, and Danny was determined to find it.

  But he’d start with finding Nathan’s girlfriend.

  Steam rose from the sink. Mandy turned her face away and adjusted the water temperature. Shoving the greasy frying pan under the spray, she added a squirt of dish soap. She glanced at the counter bar, where her mother and
brother were finishing breakfast.

  “This is really good, Mandy,” Bill mumbled around a mouthful of French toast.

  “I’m glad you like it.” Mandy shut off the water. Leaving the pan to soak for a few minutes, she dried her hands and reached for her jumbo mug of coffee. So far this morning, even a massive caffeine infusion was unable to cut through the cobwebs last night’s insomnia had left in her brain.

  “You’re the best cook in the whole world.” He swirled the last few pieces around in peach sauce and shoved them in his mouth. Draining his glass, he carried his dirty dishes to the sink.

  “Excuse me.” A woman in her midtwenties stood under the arch that led to the dining room.

  Bill jumped. The glass hit the bottom of the sink with a clatter. He backed toward the exit as if there were a wild bear in the kitchen instead of a pretty girl. The connecting door slapped shut as he disappeared into the apartment.

  “I’m terribly sorry if I disturbed your breakfast.” Ashley Trent, a hiker from Boston, was staying in the top-floor suite with two friends.

  “It’s fine. My brother is a little shy.” Mandy smiled. “What can I do for you?”

  “I overslept. Could I please still get a cup of coffee?” Ashley’s eyes were puffy. Though it was past nine in the morning, she was dressed in a sweatshirt and pink-striped pajama bottoms. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a messy tail. The last two mornings, she and her two friends had been out the door by seven. Hadn’t anyone at the inn slept well last night?

  “Of course.” Mandy set her cup down and headed for the coffeepot. “I thought I saw your friends go out earlier.”

  “I was tired from the long hike we took yesterday. I told them to go without me. No sense in them missing out on the beautiful day.” Ashley squinted at the bright sunlight streaming through the window.

  “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well. Do you need anything?” Mandy handed her a cup of coffee.

  “No, thanks. I’ll be fine tomorrow.” Ashley sniffed the steam rising from her mug. “This smells fabulous.”