Nocturne In Ashes: A Riley Forte Suspense Thriller, Book One

by Chase, Joslyn

  “Shoot,” Bobbi shouted. “Tail rotor must have hit something.”

  They spun crazily over the pavement, dipping and swaying. “We need speed,” Bobbi yelled. She accelerated and gained some control as they zoomed away from the parking lot and rose again into the sky.

  “How do we get down?” Rick asked.

  “Have to be a run-on landing. Like an airplane.” She looked down at the eighteenth fairway. It extended along beside the clubhouse about a hundred and fifty yards, curved slightly, and continued for another fifty yards before reaching the green. A par three.

  “Gonna be one heck of a divot,” Rick said.

  As she rose and maneuvered to make the approach, the engine sputtered again. Bobbi looked grim. “I gotta coax forty knots out of this thing or we’re just a chunk of metal falling out of the sky.”

  Rick looked down and saw several tiny people gathering at the edge of the parking lot. They waved or shaded their eyes, peering up at the spectacle. Rick hoped the helicopter wouldn’t put on much of a show. Sorry to disappoint, folks, but we’re gonna put her down nice and easy.

  They descended fast, skimming the trees at the edge of the tee-off area.

  “Oh yeah, baby,” Bobbi said, her voice full of glee. There was a small bump and a bounce, followed by a more pronounced thud as the skids made solid contact and they glided along the fairway like a kid on a sled. The slick grass did little to slow their advance as they skied toward the looming pines on the other side of the green.

  Rick watched the little flag marking the cup. They plowed over it, a precision shot, and entered the trees. The body of the helicopter bulldozed a phalanx of reedy bushes, sliding between tree trunks, but the blades splintered apart as they met the sturdy pines. With a resounding smack, the nose of the aircraft smashed into a solid trunk and they came to a stop.

  Rick’s ears were ringing, keeping sounds at bay. Bobbi removed her helmet and made speaking motions with her mouth. Bits of chopped up branches and pine needles came down in a silent rain, sliding off the spider-web fractured glass bowl of the windscreen. Rick shook himself, valsalva-ed his ears, and yawned, regaining his hearing.

  “You alright, soldier?”

  Her voice was like music, a beautiful sound. He took her face in his hands and kissed her, full on the lips. She let him linger a moment, but pulled away at the sound of running people approaching the wreckage.

  “Smart decision kissing me,” she said. “If you’d kissed the ground—”

  “I know. A punch in the face.”

  She laughed and squeezed his hand. “Not the smoothest landing I’ve ever made, but we’re in one piece.”

  “Even my dental work and chest hair survived intact.”

  “I may have to verify that, soldier.”

  Rick grinned as the rescue team arrived. “I’ll look forward to that.”

  CHAPTER 97

  RILEY STUMBLED ON LOOSENED STONES, falling to her knees, tasting bitter blood from her bitten tongue. Teren pulled her up, taking the opportunity to whisper endearments in her ear. The man was deranged, treating her like the love of his life one moment, preparing to slit her throat the next. She shuddered, realizing that, to him, this was consistent behavior. How could she have overlooked his madness before? He’d always appeared so rational, so sympathetic and ready to help. In his mind, he’d been helping all along.

  He prodded her forward, then clutched her arm and froze. They stared into the sky as a wavering, distorted whir filtered through the pine needles, sending a bright spear of hope through Riley. It was a helicopter. More help was arriving.

  Teren lowered her to the ground and pulled his knife from the sheath at his belt. Riley braced herself, but he only used it to strip some of the small, spindly branches from the surrounding oak and fir.

  “This isn’t the right way, Riley. This is not how it should be done.”

  His voice was full of sorrow, his face a mask of grief. She watched him gather and arrange sticks and stones to form a sort of pyramid. She hoped his attention might be so focused on his preparations that she could squirm to her feet and escape, but it was too long and awkward a process with her arms still bound behind her. Every time she began, he looked at her sharply, infusing her with the hopelessness of her situation.

  He finished constructing the altar and turned to her, drawing the knife once again from its sheath. He knelt beside her, stroking her hair, pushing it away from her face. She locked eyes with him. They had come to their final moment and she intended to be fully present, holding him accountable for what he did to her.

  Her heart pulsed madly and the blood felt hot in her veins. Teren’s eyes, as they looked into hers, were tender. His hand, touching her face, caressing her cheek, willing her to understand, was gentle.

  “My mother taught me. She understood the ways of the Earth, and I learned from her how to assuage the danger, how to appease her wrath.”

  She saw the muscles in his arm tighten as his hand gripped the knife. He slipped it between her wrists and cut the twine, freeing her hands, and then the blade was against her throat, ready to slice.

  “The world has forgotten. They desecrate the Earth, using her, stripping her, raping her.” His voice was harsh and the edge of the knife was tight enough against her neck to draw blood. She felt it dripping into the collar of her shirt.

  “I will honor you, Riley, and she will accept my sacrifice.”

  His face crumpled and his eyes turned wet. He lifted his head and shouted to the sky. “I always do my part!”

  The man from the cabin stepped out from the trees.

  “Yes you do,” he said, his voice both consoling and encouraging. “Yes you do, Teren. So do it now. The time is ripe.”

  Teren’s eyes swung back to hers and he lowered his face, kissing her hard on the mouth. His chin was like a stone, grinding against the softness of her lips, tearing at their tenderness. She felt anger in him, and it sparked with her own. She tossed her head, separating them, and the knife at her throat sliced a bit deeper.

  “She’s waiting, Teren. Don’t disappoint.”

  The man’s voice had grown mocking and he came to stand beside them. Riley felt the power he wielded, and hated him. She turned bitter eyes on him, but Teren forced her face back to his.

  “Never mind him, Riley. Look at me. You are a hero. I salute you as one of the honored few who’ve given everything. You’ve earned praise and glory in my eyes, and in the eyes of—”

  He broke off and his eyes flew wide as he fell forward against her. A knife protruded from his back, a crimson stain blooming like an opening rose, soaking the fabric of his cotton shirt and dripping to the earth. The man from the cabin smiled.

  “What a windbag.”

  He looked down at his blood-smeared hands, a look of stunned wonder on his face, and Riley recognized opportunity.

  She pushed free of Teren’s body and ran for the trees.

  CHAPTER 98

  RICK WINCED AS DR. DEB probed his ribcage, her fingers waking the sleeping pain and making it dance to the beating of his heart.

  “Sorry about that,” she said. She’d patched a cut on his face and given him some aspirin for the headache, but there was little she could do about the ribs.

  “You’ll be sore for a couple of days, but I think it’s just bruising. Nothing broken.”

  He thanked the veterinarian and eased back into his shirt, fastening the buttons as he joined Bobbi at a table in the dining room. She was nursing a cup of coffee and a bandaged wrist. Beneath the table, her foot rested on a stool, ice packed around the swollen ankle. He gave her a rueful grimace. They’d been knocked around a bit, but they’d both been lucky, sustaining only minor injuries from the helicopter’s demise.

  “Congratulations,” he said. “You set out to destroy a helicopter and I think you can check it off your to-do list.”

  She smiled and Rick thought he saw a twinge of regret in her eyes.

  “What about you?” she asked. “Yo
u made it to your destination.”

  “Yes, but no closer to my goal. I still haven’t found my partner or the suspect.”

  Rick had been disappointed to find that the vital piece of information he’d worked so hard to deliver was redundant by the time he arrived. Teren was old news.

  “So what are you going to do about it?” Bobbi asked.

  Rick sagged, slumping in the chair, rubbing at his burning eyes. He wanted to sleep for a week.

  “I’m going to get a bite to eat, drink about six cups of coffee, and head for the hills.”

  Bobbi saluted him with her eyes. “Good for you.”

  Rick rose from the table, intent on finding some food. As he approached the kitchen, a woman came through the swinging door, carrying a pot of coffee and a plate of bread.

  “You go on and sit down,” she said, waving him back to the table. “I’ll find something for the both of you to eat. I’m Millie,” she told them, placing the bread on the table and filling Rick’s coffee cup. “My husband, Frank, is out with the deputy, looking for our Riley.”

  Rick frowned, his inner radar stirring. “I thought they were after Teren Kirkwood, the man responsible for the murders.”

  Millie’s face crumpled and the hand holding the coffee trembled, creating a storm of dark liquid in the pot. Bobbi scooted over and patted the bench seat.

  “Sit down, Millie. All of this must have been very distressing.”

  Millie sank to the cushioned bench, relinquishing the near-empty coffeepot. She pulled a cloth napkin from underneath a place setting and dabbed at her eyes, bleeding the last of her mascara onto the pristine linen.

  “I’m so terrified for Riley. None of us ever suspected Teren and I think she’s really fond of him. She won’t be on her guard if he finds her.”

  Rick’s heartbeat quickened. He was under the impression the suspect had fled up the ridge and that Nate and the Sheriff’s posse were in pursuit. This was the first he’d heard about a woman in the mix.

  “Who’s Riley?” he asked. “And will you explain what she’s doing out there?”

  Millie nodded, but needed a moment before she could speak.

  “Riley’s the sweetest girl, our neighbor, and a fabulous concert pianist. She’s a widow and had a hard time of it. She was helping Detective Quentin with his investigation, but when it started to look like he was the murderer—”

  Rick choked on a sip of coffee. He coughed and wiped his mouth, staring at her. “You thought Nate was the killer?”

  “Well, I never did, but some people started saying he wasn’t who he claimed to be and since he was the only stranger among us…” She gave an apologetic shrug.

  “I can guess who started that rumor,” said Bobbi.

  “Yes, well, it must have been Teren,” Millie agreed, “but we all thought he was such a nice man. People listened to him.”

  “So what happened with Riley,” Rick asked.

  “She took off early this morning, when it was still dark. She told Dr. Deb she was going up over the ridge to bring help we could trust. When Teren found out, he went after her.”

  Rick finished his coffee and pushed the cup aside. “And Nate went after Teren?”

  “Of course, but I think his real concern was finding Riley. I knew he suspected Teren, though I couldn’t believe it at the time. He was frantic to find Riley before Teren did.”

  Rick stood, snatching a slice of bread from the basket. “Scratch my dinner order,” he said. “I’m heading out now.”

  He checked his weapon and took the dust mask and flashlight Millie offered. The sun was lowering in the sky; he had about an hour and a half of daylight left to him. Skirting the lake at a near run, he tried to determine the best point to break and head uphill. He passed a trail opening, but instinct kept him on the lakeside path.

  His attention was focused on the ground rising on his right flank, and he almost missed the patch of scarlet peeking from a mass of willowy overhanging branches at the edge of the lake. A quick investigation revealed a deserted sea kayak. The water-slicked seat and broken twigs above told him it had not been long abandoned. He followed the signs from the boat to the edge of the sloping forest and found his entry point.

  Scanning the terrain, he picked up the spoor, noting overturned rocks and spindly branches stripped of leaves, suggesting they’d been used as handholds by a desperate climber. The angle of his ascent leveled off a bit as he tracked the signs of passage, winding through moss-coated tree trunks and low-lying ferns.

  He was late to the party and it gnawed at him. He needed to make up some time. The evening breeze rustled through, stirring the ash beams which floated on the air, carrying a curiously chemical odor. Rick reflected on the completely botched situation.

  Cal had told him he had one shot at this, one chance to convince the board he had what it takes, and he trusted Cal to give it to him straight. They’d trained together as SEALs and Rick would have sworn Cal meant it all those years ago when he said the SEALs were the highest and the best and he was in it for life. Rick had been buoyed by those words, and then disillusioned when Cal left the team, after only four years, and joined the police force.

  Cal’s performance with the cops was nearly legendary, and Rick’s reaction went from disillusionment to dismay when he left the force, and disappeared. Nearly two years passed with no word from his best buddy and then one day he showed up and invited Rick out for tacos. Cal was cautious in his conversation over chips and salsa, but by the time their fish tacos were served, Rick had formed the impression he was working for a very low-profile, well-placed private organization that fights crime and injustice around the globe. Over bowls of deep fried ice cream, Rick told Cal he wanted in.

  “You don’t pick them, they pick you,” Cal said.

  “So what do I do?”

  Cal simply gave him a look that said figure it out.

  “Okay, I get it. I follow your lead. I get all the training and experience I can out of the SEALs, follow that up with investigative training on the police force, and then what?”

  “Make it to detective. They’ll be watching and take it from there.”

  They had been watching, and they took it from there by placing a phone call, telling him he was on trial. The cold, disembodied voice informed him that his first case as homicide detective would determine his future, the higher profile, the better. It was his test. Rick had been elated to land the serial killer case file. He’d been pumped and confident, and then Rainier blew her top. Unbelievable timing.

  Rick pushed on through the forest. Half an hour passed and the sky grew dusky. Something ahead caught Rick’s eye, a feeble glint in the waning light. He squatted, identifying it as a cellophane wrapper that had contained peanut butter crackers, recently discarded. He remembered how U.S. troops in Vietnam had been easily tracked by the trail of Kool-Aid packages they left behind. Americans and their litter.

  He rose and continued forward. The raucous call of a crow rang out, answered by more cries and the fluttering of wings. Rick stooped under an arch of low-hanging branches and entered an opening among the tall pines.

  Black birds congregated in a flurry of activity, ripping into a fresh kill. Even in the gathering dark, Rick could see it was a human body. He ran forward, shouting and waving his arms to scatter the scavengers. They fell back, into the tree line, but lingered there, resentful and watching. The handle of a knife jutted out from the man’s back. Rick turned the body on its side, checking for any signs of life, but the guy was truly dead. Rick looked at the face and his breath caught in his throat. Fumbling the flashlight from his pocket, he switched it on and shone it over the dead man, focusing the beam on his face. He stared for a long while, comparing it to his memory of the photo driver’s license in the case file. A grim feeling of satisfaction settled over him.

  He’d found his man.

  CHAPTER 99

  MOSS-COVERED TREE TRUNKS STRETCHING TO the sky, carpet of ash-frosted ferns, rugged stones and erodin
g earth, all became as a nightmare to Riley. Distorted by her terror, they took on monstrous proportions and sinister intent, grasping at her, towering over her, aiding in her demise.

  She felt the finality in these moments and knew at last her time had come. This man would not hesitate to kill her. Her long battle on the ridge was drawing to a close and she would die without honor, without victory of any sort. She ran, no longer caring whether it was uphill or down, east or west, the thudding of her feet matching the frantic beat of her heart.

  The sky, thickened by ash and the falling dusk, was a heavy blanket impeding her progress, causing her to stumble over brambles and the roots of trees. Gray light filtered down through long-needled branches like a dim glow from a grimy bulb, illuminating just enough to keep her from running head-on into the looming trunks of trees. Without looking back, she gauged how far behind he was by the sound of his thrashing through the brush. She was a good span ahead, but he was gaining on her.

  A dark shape materialized in front of her, a form in motion, and she was shocked into stillness when she recognized it as a bear cub. A baby bear meant mama was close by, and likely to be fiercely protective. One way or another, she would meet death on the mountain tonight.

  Her hesitation cost her the lead and the man called John was nearly on her now. Galvanized, she sprang away from the cub and mustered all her energy for a desperate sprint, but John caught her by the hair and swung her against him. She expected to feel sharp, severing pain as he drove the knife into her, but he had no blade.

  Instead, she felt a harrowing shiver tear through her as he spoke into her ear.

  “Teren was a purist for blood and fire. He adhered to a stringent method whenever he could. I’m a beginner at the hands-on stuff, Riley. I couldn’t free my knife from Teren’s ribs, but I’m open to experimentation.” His hands closed around her neck. “A knife in the back was quick and efficient, but squeezing the life out of you while I look into your eyes—that sounds more my style.”