Skeletons in the Mist (The McCall Twins)

by Jennifer Hayden

  “Just that she had a reputation for getting around. Anyone could have killed her.”

  “My hunch tells me these cases are all connected.” Chas dug through the piles of paper on the desk. “There has to be something here we’re missing. Keep looking. And if you see anything about a journal, let us know.”

  While everyone was definitely frustrated, they all went back to work digging through the files.

  Roxy stared at the television screen, bored silly. It was late evening now and all that was on was the news. The local media was talking about nothing but the murders, which put her on edge even more. No matter what she did, she couldn’t get her mind off of things. She wished Chas would get home. She didn’t like being alone in the house. It wasn’t the biggest house in the world, but it had its share of creaks and moans. Every noise grabbed her attention and startled her.

  Leaning back on the couch, she tried to concentrate on the sitcom she’d finally located on one of the cable channels. She caught motion out of the corner of her eye and saw Josh drive by in his police cruiser. He slowed down, obviously checking on her. She waved at him and he waved back. Then he drove off again. This had happened several times since Chas had left that afternoon. Chas had also called twice, just to be sure she was okay. His voice had sounded fairly normal the last time they’d talked so she guessed he was feeling a little better about the Maddie thing.

  She stared at the television until she felt herself dozing off. Shaking herself awake, she sat up. She had a strange feeling again, as though someone was watching her. She looked through the front window, expecting to see Josh’s police cruiser. She saw nothing. The street was empty and dark.

  The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She peered around the well-lit room. Everything was just as it always had been. The doors were still locked. She made the rounds of the house and checked all the windows. Everything was secure.

  She was just coming out of Chas’s bedroom when the lights suddenly went out. The entire house was pitch dark. Panicked, she pushed the button on her phone. She immediately scrolled for Chas’s number on instinct. She pushed the button when she found it and waited, frozen in place. The call had just started to connect when a hand snaked around her from behind and covered her mouth. She tried to scream but it was no use. His fingers were strong and intense against her face. He reached his other hand down and grabbed her wrist, slamming it against the wall until her phone fell to the ground.

  The last thing she heard before everything went black, was a deep, gravelly voice saying, “Hello, Rose. I knew you’d come back.”

  Chas stared down at his cell phone. Roxy’s number had popped up on the phone moments earlier, but before he could answer it, she’d hung up. Strange, he thought. He’d been talking to her off and on all evening and everything had been fine. He quickly called her back. The call went unanswered and then into voicemail. He cursed and dialed again. “Come on, Roxy. Answer the damn phone.”

  “What’s up?” Trace asked, looking over his shoulder.

  “Roxy called me. She hung up before I answered. Now I’m getting voicemail. Call Josh and have him run by there and be sure everything’s okay. He’s closer.” He dialed Roxy again, willing her to answer the phone. Still, she didn’t.

  Cursing, he stood up and grabbed his keys.

  “Josh said he was over there about half an hour ago and everything was fine.” Trace met his brother’s gaze. “Maybe she’s in the bathroom or something.”

  Chas continued trying to call Roxy to no avail. He finally looked at his brother. “Something’s wrong.”

  It took them five minutes to make the normally ten minute drive to their house. They both hopped out of Chas’s truck and took off for the front door. Immediately Chas’s heart dropped when he saw that the house was dark. Roxy hated the dark. She would never have turned all the lights off, even to sleep. He drew his weapon. Trace noticed and followed suit.

  “Maybe she’s sleeping, man.”

  “She doesn’t like the dark.” Chas tried the front door and his worst fears were confirmed. It was unlocked.

  Trace made a quick call for back up as they entered the residence.

  Chas reached over to the light switch, his weapon poised and ready to shoot. He flipped the switch. Nothing happened. He flipped it back and forth a couple more times, then swore. “No electricity.”

  “The rest of the neighborhood is fine,” Trace pointed out, looking over his shoulder. He and Chas exchanged glances and split up, checking each room in the house carefully. With every door he opened, Chas prayed he’d find Roxy, safe and sound, even though common sense told him that wasn’t likely. In the back bedroom—an area they used for an office—his last shred of hope died. The window stood wide open, its screen on the floor in front of it. Someone had obviously managed to jimmy the lock free. His anxiety ramped up a notch and he forced himself to breathe.

  “There’s nobody here,” Trace said from the hallway.

  Chas stepped from the office and met his brother’s gaze. “The window’s open in there. Somebody jimmied the lock.”

  Trace swore.

  Chas glanced up and down the dark corridor. Inexplicably, an evil scent was in the air. He felt his chest tighten as something caught his eye. He leaned over and picked up a shiny object that lay on the floor in the hallway. Roxy’s phone. He pushed the buttons until he saw the last call placed from the device. It had been made to his cell phone. Panic washed over him in a violent wave. “He got her. He came into my fucking house and got her.” He turned and slammed his fist into the wall for the second time that day. “I never should have left her alone!”

  Trace didn’t say anything. He just watched while his brother seemed to unravel before his eyes.

  Taking a deep breath, Chas finally straightened. “He’s going to kill her.”

  Trace opened his mouth to answer, but he was cut off by a quiet, female voice coming from the living room.

  “I know where he is. I can show you.”

  Both Chas and Trace turned around and squinted into the darkness, their weapons drawn again.

  Tabitha Kennings stared back at them solemnly.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Roxy sat up, rubbing the back of her head. It hurt something terrible. Confused, she stared around her environment. Where was she? What had happened?

  And then she remembered. Someone had grabbed her. She’d been standing in the hallway of Chas’s house and someone had attacked her from behind.

  Her phone! She frantically reached down for the pockets of her shorts, where she had kept her phone all evening. It was gone. Panic swarmed her and she struggled to breathe.

  The room she was in was dark except for a lantern in the corner. There were no windows, just a large door on one wall. She noticed there were a couple of sleeping bags on the floor. They were empty. The room had no other furniture.

  Swallowing her nausea, she racked her brain to find a way out of this mess. She got up, dizziness assailing her at first, and slowly made her way over to the door. Of course it was locked.

  God, who had brought her here? She hadn’t seen a face, just felt his hands on her. She knew instinctively that it was the same man who had attacked her at the motel. He’d spoken the same words to her. He’d called her Rose.

  She felt her stomach turn as she heard the words in her head again. Hello, Rose, I knew you would come back. God, why would this person call her by a name that only her father had called her mother? It didn’t make any sense.

  He wasn’t your father, she reminded herself.

  Rubbing her temples, she blinked at the confusing memories that were bombarding her brain. She wanted them to go away. She had other things to worry about right now, like getting herself out of here before her captor came back.

  Unfortunately, at that moment, she heard noise on the other side of the door. There were voices coming closer. Suddenly the door flew open and she saw the silhouettes of two people come through it. A man and a child, she realize
d. When the lantern lifted and their faces came into view, she couldn’t hide her gasp. The boy was the spitting image of his brother, only smaller. She knew she was looking at Dylan. Her eyes raised to the adult man with him and her stomach grew sick again as she recognized his face.

  “Well hello, darling. You’re awake.”

  His voice sickened her. She wanted to back away further but there was no place for her to go. She just stared, paralyzed. She knew, without question, that this man was her biological father.

  “I’m afraid things haven’t gone according to plan, have they, Dylan?”

  Roxy watched as the boy was shoved roughly across the room. He stumbled but managed to keep his balance.

  “Don’t you worry. I’m sure Tabby didn’t suffer for long. I always hit my mark when I shoot. Now tell me where that fucking journal is or I’ll kill you both.” He looked from Dylan to Roxy and then back again. He took several steps toward Roxy and she shrank away. When he was just in front of her, he reached a hand out and ran his fingers down the side of her face, making her skin crawl even more. “You look just like her—like my Rose.”

  She started to shake her head.

  “You do. I’ve missed her for a long time.” His eyes stared into hers. “It was unfortunate what happened to her—to your sister.”

  “Are you my father?” The words came out before she could stop them .

  He chuckled. “So you’ve figured it out too.” His hand dropped. “You should have stayed away from here. If you had, nobody else would have had to die.”

  The memories in Roxy’s head were flowing full force. She remembered the night her mother and sister had died crystal clearly now. And she remembered this man—Mayor Donovan Dewitt.

  “You killed them,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “You shot them and then you shot me.”

  His face paled and his eyes darkened. “She left me no choice. She was going to tell. If she had told, I would have lost everything. My wife, my family.” He shook his head sadly. Then he reached into his coat and pulled out a gun. “Just shut up about them. That’s all in the past.”

  “It’s never going to just be in the past for me. Dinah Tavish was my mother. Rachel was my sister. How could you kill your own daughter?”

  Obviously agitated, Dewitt scowled. “She wasn’t my daughter, not really. Neither were you. I’d never planned to be part of your lives. But Rose had other ideas.”

  Suddenly Roxy remembered. It hadn’t been Hank Tavish that had called her mother Rose. It had been this man. She’d heard him call her mother Rose the night he’d killed her. How could she have confused such a vile person for the caring man that Hank Tavish had been?

  “She was going to tell Hank that you weren’t his kids. She was going to tell him about the affair we had.” Dewitt glared at Roxy. “I was a married man. I was running for office. She would have ruined me.” His eyes suddenly turned sad. “I loved her. But she would have ruined me.”

  “She loved Hank Tavish.”

  “Yes. She loved him so much that she cheated on him and got pregnant. She loved him so much that she lied to him. And then she wrote about everything in that journal and left it for him to read after she was dead. That’s true love for you.” Dewitt gave a sinister laugh. “He found it you know. The journal I mean. He came to me one night and confronted me about the whole thing. He held a gun to my head.”

  Roxy shook her head. There was no way she could picture Hank Tavish holding a gun to anyone’s head unless they were breaking the law.

  “You don’t know the real Hank Tavish. He was a controlling bastard. Why do you think your mother cheated on him?”

  While Roxy knew that Hank had been somewhat controlling, she refused to believe that any of this was his fault.

  “He played Russian Roulette with his revolver and my head. Fortunately I won that night.” Dewitt smiled halfway. “The next night, I went to his house and did the same thing to him. He lost.”

  Roxy felt her heart stop inside of her chest. “He didn’t kill himself. You killed him.”

  “He was going to tell everyone the truth.”

  Sadness ate at her as she realized Hank Tavish’s fate. He’d been the only father she’d ever known and he’d died because of her existence. She felt the tears swarm her eyes and blinked them back. “You are the devil.”

  “I had to protect my family—my real family. My wife, my kids. I have a legacy to uphold.”

  “We were your children too,” she pointed out, though the very thought of this man’s blood running through her veins made her sick.

  “Yes, well, had your mother kept her mouth shut, none of this would have happened. She would still be here today and so would your sister.” He pointed the gun at her. “Now get over there with your brother. I’m done playing games with you both. I want that journal and I want it now. Once you’re gone and that journal’s gone, there will be nobody left alive to threaten me.”

  “Is that what Aunt Myra did? And what about Maddie Croft, did you kill her too?” Roxy refused to move. She just glared at Donovan Dewitt, hate coursing through her again.

  “Maddie Croft got in the way,” he said simply. “I needed to see those police files and the only way I could get at them, was to kill her. As for that old bat of an aunt of yours, she bit off way more than she could chew when she tangled with me. She should have burned that journal when she found it. Instead, she figured out everything and threatened to go to the police. She asked for her own death.”

  Roxy winced when he yanked her arm and dragged her over to stand next to Dylan.

  “You know it was perfect the way Hank’s older boy came home and picked up that gun. I couldn’t have asked for a better outcome to that night. The only thing that went wrong was that I couldn’t find that fucking diary. I looked everywhere. I even came back the other night and looked again.” He glared from Roxy to Dylan. “One of you took it. I want to know where it is.”

  Neither Roxy nor Dylan spoke.

  Dewitt grabbed a hold of Dylan and yanked him roughly. He put the gun to Dylan’s head and glowered at Roxy. “I don’t have time for this! Where the hell is it? I know you have it somewhere!”

  “I don’t have any journal. I’ve never even seen it. I only found out about its existence two days ago.”

  “You’re lying! You have to be. Or you are.” He shook Dylan roughly. “Damn you both!”

  Roxy knew she had to do something or Dewitt was going to shoot them both. She didn’t even give herself time to think, she just charged him. He was so surprised that he lost his balance, and his hold on Dylan. He fell backward, his gun going off with a bang.

  “Run, Dylan!” Roxy felt the instant pain in her side. It was intense and familiar. She’d been shot. She tried to run anyway—saw Dylan in front of her heading for the door. He hesitated, looking back at her. Just as their eyes locked, another bang went off and she felt the same searing pain in her shoulder.

  “Run!” was all she managed to get out a second time, before she hit the floor. She saw only his sneakers as he ran out of the room. Once he was gone, she prepared herself to die. She knew Dewitt was behind her and she knew this time he’d go for her heart, just as he had her mother and sister so many years before.

  “Police! Freeze!”

  She heard the words but she couldn’t lift her head. And then she heard the explosion of another gunshot and prepared to meet her maker…only that didn’t happen. Something thudded behind her. She somehow found the strength to lift her eyes and she saw Chas in the doorway, his gun still poised in the air. When their eyes locked, he swore and raced toward her. He was at her side, his jacket off in seconds. He did his best to put pressure on her wounds.

  “He’s my father,” she heard herself mumble. “He killed my mother and my sister and Aunt Myra. He killed Maddie too. And Tabitha—” She started to choke on the words and coughed weakly. “God, Chas, he killed Daddy. It wasn’t…” Her voice broke off and she struggled for strength. “He didn’t ki
ll himself. No suicide.”

  “I know, baby. I know. Just stay still. We’re getting you help. You’re going to be okay.” He held her against him, pressing on her wounds tightly. “Damn it! Hurry up with that ambulance!”

  “It’s coming.” She heard Trace’s voice but she couldn’t see him. Her head was growing fuzzy and she felt herself drifting off.

  “You stay with me, you hear me? We have unfinished business, Roxy Tavish. Look at me, damn it!”

  Her eyes flickered and she looked up at him. She loved to look into his eyes and figured if she was going to die, this was the way to go.

  “No.” He said the word firmly, his eyes filling with moisture. “Stay with me.”

  She tried her hardest, but in the end the blackness took over and his face drifted away.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Chas listened to the steady beep of the medical machinery in Roxy’s room. With every beat of her heart, he silently thanked God. She was alive.

  She’d been shot twice, once in the abdomen, amazingly enough, not far from the spot she’d been shot as a child. The other bullet had gone into her shoulder. She’d been rushed to the hospital and into emergency surgery. For several hours, he’d sat in the waiting room and prayed, unsure what his feelings for her were, beyond the fact that he couldn’t stand the thought of not having her in his life.

  When the doctors had come out and told him she’d come through everything as good as could be expected, and that she was likely to make a full recovery, he’d felt the most overwhelming sense of relief that he’d ever felt in his life.

  Now he was waiting for her to wake up. She’d been asleep for over twenty-four hours, only waking up for seconds at a time.

  He heard the door to the room open and turned his head. Trace walked in, quietly shutting the door behind him.

  “She’s still out?”

  Chas nodded, turning back to Roxy. “She’s been awake for little bits at a time but she goes back out again.”