Lethal (Small Town Secrets Book 1)

by Ann Voss Peterson

  Nikki could feel panic rising in her throat, choking her. Eddie would be here any second. If she didn’t hold up her end, he would be so mad.

  So very mad.

  “Come on back.”

  Nikki circled the counter and marched into a small back room the size of a large walk-in closet. Shelves lined the walls, filled with towels, sheets, pillows, toilet paper, and everything else a motel might need.

  “Hey, there!” The man’s bulk filled the doorway. “What do you think you’re doing? Get out of here.”

  Nikki pressed back against a rack of towels.

  “Get out of here. There’s a cop upstairs. I’m gonna to call him on you. Have him lock you—”

  Nikki didn’t even realize Eddie was in the room until she saw the blood. The man stumbled forward, coughing, grabbing at his own throat. He slammed into her and they both hit the floor hard.

  The man gurgled, gasped. Blood sprayed Nikki’s face and colored the towels red. She scrambled up, pushing him off her, desperate to escape. It was all she could do to hold back a scream.

  “Nikki.”

  She whimpered. So much blood. And the man kept groaning. He wasn’t dead. How could he bleed so much and not die?

  “Nikki!”

  She looked up, focusing on Eddie’s face.

  “Button your damn blouse,” Eddie said. “You’re at the front desk. Don’t let anyone in.”

  “What do I tell—”

  “Think of something.”

  Nikki couldn’t think of anything but the man writhing on the floor, the blood pool under him, and the choked gurgle coming from his throat. “Eddie, I don’t—”

  “You did a great job with that guy, babe. I’ve always said you’re so beautiful, no one can resist you. Now you gotta be smart, too. Can you do that?”

  “No, no… I…”

  “You can. You’re plenty smart, Nikki. I’ve always said that. Now, there has to be a maid’s key around here somewhere…”

  He left the back room.

  Nikki followed. She couldn’t do this. “But Eddie…”

  “You’ll think of something. No one comes in. No one calls out. I’m counting on you.”

  Risa

  Risa paced across the hotel room and looked at her watch for the tenth time in the past ten minutes. Shortly after daybreak, Schneider had called to tell her he’d be right over. That was over a half hour ago. So where was he? A myriad of explanations for his tardiness pingponged through her mind. Had the police found a lead? Had they found Dryden? Or had they found another body? A body they wouldn’t dare tell her about over the phone?

  Risa eyed the telephone. She couldn’t even call Trent and ask. It had been difficult for him to leave her alone. She certainly didn’t want her worry to send him racing back to her side when he needed to spend his time and energy guiding the search for Dryden.

  She thought of the sheriff’s deputy standing outside the door. Deputy Perry had a radio. He might know something. She pulled the door open and peeked into the hall.

  Perry’s friendly blue eyes snapped to her. His doughy face flattened in a grin. “What can I do you for, Professor?”

  Faced with his confident but relaxed manner, Risa flushed. She was probably just being paranoid. But paranoid or not, she had to know. “Chief Schneider should be here by now. Have you heard if anything urgent is going on? Anything that would detain him?”

  The officer shook his head and rested a hand on his radio. “Not a thing. I’ll let you know if any news comes through.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  “Don’t worry. In a small town, little things crop up all the time, and there’s no one to handle it other than the local cop. I’m sure it’s nothing serious. Probably some damn cat stuck in a tree.”

  “I thought the fire department took care of that.”

  “What? Oh, yeah. Probably.” He chuckled, a friendly sound. “But if it was something serious, I would have heard about it. Okay?”

  “You’re probably right. I’m just a little frazzled.”

  “Understandable. Is there anything I can get you, or...? A pop from the vending machine? Candy bar?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Sure? You’ve been through a lot lately from what I understand. Anything that—” The deputy stumbled forward into the door jamb. Grasping hold of the knob, he pulled the door shut.

  What the—

  A thump landed against the door.

  “Deputy?” Risa couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She didn’t dare open the door, and yet the deputy…

  Risa flipped the security lock home and peered through the peephole.

  Cold, dead eyes set in a boyish face stared back at her. Ed Dryden smiled and held up a knife. A loud scrape echoed through Risa’s paralyzed mind, the blade biting into wood.

  Risa jolted back.

  Oh, God. Oh, god. She had to get help.

  The door knob rattled.

  Risa grabbed the chair nearest to the door and jammed the back under the knob. The only other furniture in the room was a bureau. She yanked at one side, but it was large and heavy and wouldn’t move.

  The phone.

  She grabbed the receiver. A dial tone hummed in her ear.

  Please, God. Please, God.

  She punched in 911.

  A tone sounded, then ringing.

  One ring.

  Two.

  The door opened, stopped only by the safety lock and chair.

  The line picked up. “Sauk Trail Inn.”

  A thin voice, shaky as Risa felt, and so familiar... The front desk?

  “I need help. Please. I need to call 911.”

  “Risa? Is that you?”

  “Nikki? Where are you? Where are you? Dryden, he’s here.”

  “I… I know.”

  Of course, she did. She was with him. Nikki was with that monster.

  The door to the hall jimmied against the chair back.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  “He’s here. Trying to get into my room. He’s going to kill us, Nikki. Call 911.”

  “I can’t.”

  The chair legs slid, little by little.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  “Nikki, you can do it. Call for help. Please.”

  “I helped him, Risa. I called all the hotels to find you. He just wants to talk.”

  “Talk? He’s going to kill me, Nikki. He’d going to kill you. Call the police.”

  The door clacked to a stop, the security lock holding. The chair tilting, but staying in place.

  “No, no, you don’t understand. I can’t.”

  “Then run. Just get out of here and run to the brew pub. Go.”

  “No, Risa. He’ll be angry. I don’t want this, but Eddie will be so angry, and I promised, and he loves me, and…”

  “Nikki? Please.”

  “I can’t.”

  The door closed again, but this time, something protruded between jamb and door. The plastic Do Not Disturb door hanger. Sliding between. Pushing the security lever. Opening the lock…

  Risa turned and ran for the window. She tore open the drapes, fumbled with the lock, released it, slid the window open. The construction site was quiet, at least an hour yet until it came alive with workers. Two stories to the ground below. A small slanted edge of roof ran the length of the building just below the window.

  Then ended, nothing but the construction site below.

  Oh, God.

  The lever moved clear. The door opened.

  Risa found the tabs holding the screen in place. She twisted one, trying to free it. It didn’t move, painted in.

  “Risa…” The door clacked against the chair.

  Risa grasped the window molding and lifted herself onto the sill. Aiming a toe at the screen’s frame, she kicked as hard as she could.

  One side swung free.

  She kicked again, and the screen torqued, twisted, and fell. It clattered down the roof and disappeared over the edge. Risa looked d
own at the edge of roof four feet below. If she missed, she’d fall into the construction site. But if she stayed…

  “Risa, I missed you.”

  Risa jumped.

  Her feet hit the roof hard, the force shuddering up her legs. Her shoes slid on dew-slick steel. She plopped down hard on her tailbone, still sliding, closer and closer to the edge.

  Nothing below.

  Nothing.

  Risa twisted to her stomach, spreading out, clawing and grabbing at anything that might slow her momentum. The slick roof. The thin ribs that channeled rain water.

  Her legs went over.

  The speed of her slide slackened.

  Stopped.

  Risa clung to the roof, legs dangling, eavestrough digging into her stomach. Her cheek pressed against cold steel.

  She had to hold on… she had to…

  Risa’s pulse pounded in her ears. Her arms shook with strain. There was no way she could pull herself back onto the roof. Not without something more to hold onto. Not without help.

  But the man at the window wasn’t there to help.

  Risa couldn’t lift her head to see him. But she could hear him breathing. She could feel his stare.

  “If only your sister could see you. Running away. Just like old times.”

  “Let Nikki go.”

  “Not a problem. Getting her to let me go is another story. She can’t get enough of it. Little slut. She pick that up from your example? Or did daddy teach her?”

  Risa closed her eyes. “You don’t want Nikki.”

  “I don’t?”

  “You used her to get to me.”

  “Listen to that ego.”

  “So let her go.”

  “Hmm. If you climb back up here, I might think about it.”

  Climb up there. Sure. Not only would she have to be suicidal, Risa couldn’t pull her weight back up the roof. She was barely keeping herself from sliding off the edge.

  She’d looked out at the construction site once, when she’d first visited the room. But while she remembered they were pouring concrete, adding a pool and more space to the hotel, she’d had no idea what was immediately beneath her.

  Concrete?

  The forms they used to pour it?

  Machinery?

  Whatever it was, it was going to hurt. But not nearly as much as letting Dryden reach her.

  “What are you waiting for, Risa? Not willing to go that far to save your sister?”

  Risa flinched.

  She’d told Trent she wanted to act as bait, to lure Dryden, to trap him. But that plan was only an idea. A notion she knew Trent would fight against. This was real.

  Was Dryden right? Was she only willing to save Nikki in theory? When it didn’t require real sacrifice?

  “Ma’am? Hello there! Ma’am?”

  A male voice. Not Dryden. Someone else. Someone on the other side of the construction site, near the street.

  Risa tried to turn her head, to see who was speaking, to warn him…

  She slid, closer to the edge, closer to falling…

  “Police, ma’am. Hold tight. I’ll be right up.”

  “You must be the luckiest thing in the world.” Dryden muttered.

  Risa stretched out her fingers, clawed at the slick steel. She could feel nothingness under her legs, under her waist, she couldn’t stop, she couldn’t…

  Down the roof. Inch by inch. And when her fingers were the only thing left, grasping at the eaves, slipping, she clung only long enough to see that Dryden was gone from the window.

  Then she fell.

  Trent

  Pulse thrumming in his head, Trent drove as fast as safety would allow. He’d called the sheriff’s department and local police as soon as he’d stepped from the autopsy room. They should reach the hotel before he did. He could only pray they got there before Dryden.

  Taking the last corner without slowing, he whipped the car into the hotel’s parking lot and drove straight for the entrance. Sun sparked off the cop cars barring the entrance and flanking the building. Blue and red lights flashed like flickering sparks of fire. Even before he stomped the brake pedal, he spotted the uniforms at the wide glass doors, stopping hotel residents from entering. Or leaving.

  Securing a crime scene.

  Trent threw the car into park, opened the door and scrambled out. Identification in hand, he raced up the shallow steps. He flashed his ID and surged inside.

  Voices jangled through the lobby. Deputies corralled guests and cut off possible escape routes.

  Trent glanced toward the elevators. The doors gaped open, incapacitated. He rushed for the stairs, flashing his ID again before he plunged into the stairwell. He took the steps two at a time. Panic pounded in his ears, living and raw. He had to find Risa. She had to be all right.

  Reaching the third floor, he pushed the door open with shaking hands. The smell of death smeared the air. Stepping into the hall, his heart lurched.

  Blood pooled around a blue-uniformed body. A flat, friendly face stared up at him, frozen in horror, blue eyes fixed in death.

  Deputy Perry.

  The sight hit Trent like a kick to the gut.

  “Sir?”

  Trent looked up at a young cop. Tall, strapping, and with shorn blond hair, he looked like a cross between a Nordic god and G.I. Joe.

  “You’re Special Agent Burnell, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Officer Olson. You’re looking for Risa Madsen.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Upstairs on the third floor. Follow me.”

  Trent followed him up the stairwell and to an identical room a floor above.

  Rees huddled in the corner chair, her arms wrapped around herself. Her cheeks were void of color, and she was trembling so hard he could see it from across the room.

  Lake Loyal’s police chief and a tall, blond officer hovered over her.

  Trent crossed the room in four strides. Bulldozing Schneider out of the way, he fell to his knees and engulfed her in his arms. He buried his face in her hair, its scent chasing away the odor of death. Dryden hadn’t gotten to her. At least not physically.

  “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

  “Deputy Perry… He’s…”

  “Gone.”

  “She was here, Trent. Nikki was here with him. She helped him find me.”

  “She told you that?”

  Risa nodded. “I asked her to help. I begged her to run.”

  “She’s afraid of him.”

  “It’s more than that.”

  Trent ran his hand over Risa’s hair. They had both seen it before. Her with patients. Him with victims. Those who rationalized away the toxic behavior of people they loved, refusing to see the truth, refusing to give up, even when it would ultimately cost them their own lives.

  Risa covered her mouth with her hand. Tears broke free and slipped silently down her cheeks. She closed her eyes. A strand of chocolate hair drifted against pale skin.

  Trent raised his hand to her face and brushed her hair back. In the autopsy room, Subera had brought up setting the trap for Dryden. Trent had known it was inevitable, but he hadn’t really faced it. He’d pushed the prospect from his mind in favor of other more pressing things. Other less painful options. But now…

  Now Dryden was already coming after Risa. At least if she was the focus of a police operation, Trent had a better shot at protecting her.

  Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her against him. He soaked in the feel of her, the scent of her. He nestled his lips in the shell of her ear. “The trap for Dryden. It’s a go.”

  She pulled back from his arms and searched his eyes. Her pupils were dilated, her eyes moist. “It’s all going to work out. Right?”

  “I sure hope so,” he said. Because the stakes were far too high to be wrong now.

  Risa

  Risa slipped into the chair between Trent and the balding county detective she’d met earlier—Mylinski—and surveyed the basement community room of
St. Luke’s Church. Risa had never stepped foot in the small town church until now, but she was sure it didn’t usually look like this. In one short day, the place had been transformed into a war room with maps and pictures and diagrams lining the walls. A dozen FBI agents and sheriff’s deputies jammed around long tables pushed together, the low hum of voices constant as the drone of bees. The odors of stale coffee and stress soured the air.

  At the head of the room, Special Agent Subera stood in front of a large map of southcentral Wisconsin. Colored pins and circles stabbed and stretched over several counties. He pointed to a vast area stretching from north of Wisconsin Dells nearly to Madison. “According to the last time Farrentina Hamilton was seen alive at her house, the approximate time of her death, and the time her body was discovered at Professor Madsen’s house, the victim had to have been murdered somewhere in this vicinity.”

  Risa studied the circle plotted on the map. Much of the area was in the Baraboo Bluffs, a land of steep hills, deep gorges, rivers, and lakes. Tiny towns and family farms dotted the area here and there, but much of the land had been preserved as wilderness in the form of state forests and state, county, and local parks. Acres and acres where Dryden could stage his hunt and no one would hear his victim’s screams.

  “The debris found on the victim’s body is consistent with this area as well,” Subera continued.

  The victim’s body.

  He was referring to Farrentina, but Risa couldn’t help also thinking of Deputy Perry’s soft, flat face. There was the man in Nikki’s car, too. And the driver of the garbage truck. It was impossible to know if there were others who hadn’t yet been found.

  Risa rubbed her palms against her thighs.

  Dryden wouldn’t claim another victim. Not if she could help it.

  Special Agent Subera glanced down at one of the reports littering the table in front of him. “We have no way of knowing if he is still driving the ’95 Volov sedan he stole from a victim’s home this morning. There have been no sightings as of yet. It is possible he has changed cars. We’ll continue monitoring reports of stolen vehicles.”

  Risa felt Trent shift in the chair next to her, but she didn’t glance his way. She didn’t want to see the worry in his eyes, the tension in his every muscle. Going along with setting the trap for Dryden had been tough for Trent. Including her went against every protective instinct he had nurtured over the years. He wanted to shuttle her off somewhere. Distant but safe.