Forgotten (Shattered Sisters Book 2)

by Maggie Shayne

  "We went to the lake."

  "Ah...the fish."

  "Bit like crazy. I'd like to go back today, but—"

  "Tell me the truth, Joey."

  God, he'd heard that one before. Ash tensed, waiting for her reply.

  "I don't know what you're talking—"

  "Don't give me that. This marriage to Coye is a sham, isn't it? There's no record of it in Vegas, or here or anywhere else."

  Silence. Then, "How do you know?"

  "I checked is how I know. This whole thing has smelled like bad meat from the start. Does Coye even know, or have you got the poor guy completely buffaloed?"

  He heard her sigh, long and hard. "He doesn't know. And you can't tell him."

  A chair scraped the floor. Heavy steps seemed to pace. "It's this Slasher thing, isn't it? It's all wrapped up in these murders. Dammit, Joey, you've been obsessed with this thing from the first day it hit the papers. What in hell's going on with you?"

  Another chair moved, more gently. "Ted, I'll explain it all to you. I promise. But not now. Not yet."

  Silence again. A longer one this time, and Ash could feel the tension in the air.

  "You know who it is, don't you?"

  "Not yet. But...I think I will. Soon. And then this nightmare will be over."

  "Or maybe it'll just begin. Joey, if you keep sticking your nose into places it doesn't belong, you're going to get yourself killed."

  Ash stiffened. Was that menace in Ted's voice? A threat? Or just genuine worry? Either way, enough was enough. Ash stripped off his shirt, dropped it on the floor and sauntered back into the kitchen. Both sets of eyes turned toward him, startled, guilty.

  "Sorry to interrupt. I forgot my coffee."

  Ted's gaze turned skeptical. "You always take coffee into the shower with you?"

  "Old habits die hard."

  "So do cockroaches." Ted sent Joey a warning look, then shook his head and left them alone.

  Ash watched him go, then faced Joey. "He seemed upset."

  "Just like your editor. He's worried."

  "About you?"

  She nodded. "He's sees himself as some sort of father figure—has ever since he and Caro got married. It drives me nuts, but it's kind of endearing." She sighed and started clearing the table. "At least it was, before he hurt my sister the way he has."

  "Fell off his pedestal, did he? Just like your old man?"

  She picked up the platter of leftover fish. "You ought to have a cat."

  But her face had tightened at his words, and anger had flashed in her eyes.

  She felt it all day, crushing in on her. Danger. No longer a subtle tingling sensation up her spine, but a big, suffocating hand slowly closing around her. Its grip tightened until she felt like her brain was in a vise and someone was turning the screw. She knew the threat to Ash was drawing nearer all the time.

  The Slasher was somewhere close, watching, waiting.

  Ash spent the morning on the phone, talking to everyone involved with the old crimes in Vegas. Not witnesses—no one had ever seen the Slasher strike—but people who had known the victims, or who had been unfortunate enough to discover one of their bodies. He was milking them for every crumb of information, hoping something would click into place, giving him a clue to the killer's identity. But it was apparent from the increasing tension in his face and in his voice that he was getting nowhere.

  He hung up the phone and stared hard at the filled pages of notes in his hand as if waiting for a line to jump out and grab him.

  "We have to get out of here,” Joey said.

  He looked up fast and frowned at her. "What's wrong?"

  "We just have to get out of here. Ash, something's going to happen. I feel it. Let's just leave."

  He crossed the room to where she stood, pulled her into his arms and hugged her hard. "Relax, Joey. We're going to be fine, I promise."

  "I should have brought the gun. God, why did I leave it locked up at home? I must be insane.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed. "Please, let's go somewhere."

  She knew he could feel her trembling, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. "Where, Joey?"

  "Anywhere. The lake. There wasn't this tension there. It felt safe."

  He pulled slightly away from her, looked down at her face, then glanced once toward the phone. "This isn't getting me much, anyway. Okay. A picnic lunch at the lake, but you owe me."

  She sighed her relief and grabbed his hand, starting for the door.

  "Aren't we packing sandwiches?"

  "We'll pick some up on the way." She tugged again, but he stayed where he was.

  "I'd better call Rad first, or I'm liable to be out of a job."

  "Call him on the way."

  He made the call short and sweet, but the whole time he was driving out of the city, he kept looking at her as if he was afraid she might be cracking up. She let him drive, wanting to be free to watch all around them. All the way out of the city her gaze was darting to the cars around them, the pedestrians, even the traffic cops.

  It was only when they'd left Syracuse far behind, and exited 81 to take winding, narrow roads of Cortland County, that she began to relax. Ash smiled at her and squeezed her hand. "Better?"

  "Yeah." She let her head rest against the back of the seat, closing her eyes. "I wish we never had to go back."

  The car passed over sun-dappled pavement, beneath leafy green bows and needled limbs. They bounced through dips and potholes, and Ash slowed down.

  “The lake is off that road, isn't it?"

  She nodded as he approached a narrow dirt track and turned the car onto it. He drove a little farther. The track simply ended at a copse of maple saplings. Coming to a stop, he twisted the key, and they both got out. He came around the car to meet her, put his arm around her shoulders and walked toward the barely discernable footpath through the trees. A short distance later, they emerged onto a mat of green rolling gently down to the shore of the lake. It was small, and tucked away amid state forest. She wasn’t even sure it had a name.

  Ash held her closer. "We forgot the fishing poles this time. What are we gonna do to pass the time?"

  Joey tipped her head back, inhaling to experience the full impact of the place—the pines, the lake water, the wild-flowers. "We could swim," she suggested.

  "That wasn't exactly what I was thinking."

  "I know." She smiled up at him, the relief she felt in being away from that sense of menace making her feel playful. "But we could still swim."

  "We didn't bring—" he slanted her a mischievous glance "—swimsuits. But I don't see that as a problem."

  She lifted her eyebrows and looked at the lake. "Could be snapping turtles."

  "Trying to back out, are you?"

  He lunged for her, catching her up in his arms and striding toward the water as if to throw her in, clothes and all. She laughed, and struggled with him, and they wound up on the ground in a tangle of limbs and laughter. She was on top of him, and he caught her face between his palms and kissed her thoroughly. Then he rolled her off him and rose to his feet. He reached one hand down to help her stand. She took it and let him pull her upright

  "Let's do something," he said. "Before I lose my head."

  She lowered her gaze. "I like it when you lose your head, Ash."

  He growled playfully and drew her to him for one more scorching kiss. "It's broad daylight, honey, and I'd never forgive myself if some hunter or hiker came along." He looked at her with mock severity. "No one sees my wife naked but me. Got that?"

  Her brows shot up. "Well, I guess I'll have to start wearing clothes to the supermarket, then." When he stopped laughing, she slipped an arm around his waist. "Let's walk a little."

  "You sure you're up to it?"

  She nodded. "It only aches a little today. Besides, if it gets too painful you'll have to be chivalrous and carry me."

  He chuckled, put an arm around her and began moving along the lake's curved shore. "So what ar
e you going to wear to the market? Leather pants and a biker jacket?"

  "Of course not. I'm saving those for the PTA meetings I'll attend with our kids."

  He stopped walking and turned to look into her eyes, his own filled with some unrecognizable emotion. She saw his throat move as he swallowed hard, but then he began walking again.

  God, was she going to keep letting herself forget that this marriage wasn't real? Why was that so easy to do?

  "Come on," she said, changing the subject. "I'll show you some of the most private spots you'll ever find anywhere."

  His brows lifted. "Oh, yeah? And just who showed them to you?"

  She elbowed him in the side playfully. "You've heard of Lewis and Clark? Well, these woods were explored and mapped by the great team of Bradshaw and Bradshaw. Caro and I left no stone unturned, even though at twelve and fourteen our map-making skills left room for improvement."

  Ash let Joey lead the way, enjoying just being with her, watching her as she walked, her limp very slight, her pace slow, relaxed. He liked watching her eyes dart around, taking in everything.

  When she'd mentioned having kids with him, something very fragile had taken root in him. Something that made his stomach feel queasy and threw his equilibrium out of whack. He tried to ignore it and pay attention to the things she pointed out as they picked their way silently through the dense woods—a deer track, a pair of chipmunks chasing each other and chattering madly, a hawk circling above, a bare, green spot on a sapling where a buck had rubbed his antlers, scraping away the bark. But he found himself more interested in looking at her. More intrigued by her scent, than that of the pines. More impressed by her grace as she practically danced through the trees, than by that of the hawk gliding above them in perfect circles. He felt good about himself, filled with satisfaction. And all because she'd relaxed. He'd eased her mind, had taken away some of her turmoil. He couldn't think of a higher cause to strive for.

  Until she stiffened and stopped walking. Her eyes went wide, her jaw tight. Her lips trembled slightly. She spun around, staring back the way they'd come. "No..." It was a bare whisper.

  "Joey?" He gripped her shoulders, brought her around to face him. The fear in her green eyes made his heart flip over. "What is it?"

  "The Slasher...is here!" She pulled free of his grasp, gripped one of his hands in hers and veered off the path, pulling him. "Come on. Run!"

  Chapter Twelve

  * * *

  She was frantic. Her palm against his hand was too warm and damp. She pulled him off the marked trail into the dense trees, running like a scared rabbit with one lame leg. He knew that every step sent pain through her thigh. She grunted softly with the impacts, and her face twisted into a tormented grimace. He had little choice but to go along with her, though he had to wonder if she had finally succumbed to all the pressure she'd been under. He hadn't heard a thing, and he was damned sure no one had followed them.

  Still, she limped up a steep incline, dragged him behind a cluster of brush and pulled him down until he squatted on his haunches beside her.

  He scanned her panic-stricken face, his worry increasing with her every hoarse breath, every shift of her wide eyes. One palm rubbed up and down over her injury. Damn, she could have ripped the stitches out with that little performance. "Joey, take it easy. It's probably nothing. You've been under a lot of—" Her hand shot out to press over his mouth. Her other one rose, pointing down the wooded bank they'd just climbed.

  He frowned as she moved her hand away and looked where she was pointing. And then he heard it. Brush crackling loudly beneath hurried steps. He squinted, trying to see through the dense growth. A shadow took shape beyond the branches, moving a few steps, then stopping, waiting, then moving some more.

  The form finally stepped into a clear spot and Ash felt Joey go ice-cold. A tall woman, her long legs in black nylons. He couldn't see her feet, but there was a tight black skirt and a loose-fitting knit sweater. Red. He waited for her to step farther forward, so he could see her head, her face, but she didn't. She just stood there, silent, as if listening. And then her hand lifted, and he saw that she wore a black glove and held a blade that glinted in the sun.

  He felt Joey's death grip on his forearm and looked at her. She was pulling him, but her wide eyes remained riveted on the form lurking below. Ash followed, moving with softly placed steps. Joey carefully pushed a tangle of berry briars to one side, tearing her eyes from the woman to look at him, and then she nodded toward whatever she'd uncovered. Ash looked and saw the black hole the briars had concealed. His gaze met Joey's, and he shook his head once.

  "We have to," she whispered. "Ash..."

  He heard the rustle of brush below them and glanced down once more. The killer was climbing upward. Personally he'd rather stay right here and face the bitch, blade or not, than go into that well of darkness Joey had exposed. But he couldn't risk Joey's life that way. She could be hurt. Killed, even.

  He looked again at the cave.

  "Trust me." She mouthed the words with trembling lips. He braced his spine against the tremors that were trying to shake it apart and nodded. Joey bent double and crawled under the briars, disappearing into the darkness. Ash got down on all fours and backed in, so he could check the ground to be sure they'd left no telltale signs. As soon as he was completely surrounded in inky blackness, Joey reached past him, tugging the briars back into place to conceal the entrance. Then she reached out, felt for his hand, found it and gripped it.

  "You can stand," she whispered. “There’s room.”

  He straightened slowly. She led him forward, deeper into the darkness, and he went, telling himself over and over that it was necessary. That the danger was outside in the sunshine, not here in this dank, black well. He didn't need to reach out to feel the narrow walls of stone on either side of him, or reach up to know the cold ceiling was inches above his head. He hated the closeness, hated the sensation of there being no air, hated that his breaths came short and quick as she pulled him behind her at a slow, uneven pace.

  He steadied himself, clenching his hand around hers, trying to concentrate on her pain instead of his own. She was hurting. She must be, after that uphill run. He couldn't let her see what this place did to him. He prayed she wouldn't feel his hand shake or sweat. It was the damned darkness! If only there was a light, even a faint glimmer, to break the pitch. He thought of his cellphone--there was a flashlight app. But that might reveal their hiding place to the menace outside. So there was no light, and the memory began swirling in the pit of his mind.

  There had been darkness then, too. And the feeling of four close walls looming around him, closing in as he crouched on the floor with his knees pulled tight to his chest. No silence, though. His little cell's walls had been thin, and he could hear the sounds that came through them. His mother's sounds. Animal sounds. As if she was hurting, dying. And if she died, he would remain in the closet forever, behind the locked door, a prisoner of the darkness.

  He stopped walking. Joey's hand tugged at his, but his feet refused to move. He fought the misery, the sudden certainty that Joey and the Slasher and the cave were just a dream and that he was still that little boy. He turned as if to look around him, but saw nothing. He took a step backward, retreating from the horror, only to come up against a cold stone wall. He closed his eyes and sank to the floor.

  "Ash?"

  "No." He didn't want her to see him this way, didn't want her to touch him, didn't want her anywhere near him right now.

  She knelt in front of him, her hands running over his face, over the dampness of sweat and, if he was honest with himself, perhaps a few tears on his skin.

  "It's all right." Her breath warmed his face, dried it. Her arms encircled his shoulders and she held him.

  Get away from me, dammit.

  But his head obeyed when she urged it onto her shoulder. His body surrendered to the feel of her warmth, her fingers moving through his hair in soothing rhythm. God, he didn't want her to k
now....

  "I already know." She shifted position, sitting down and pulling him down with her, holding him with a strength that surprised him. Her arms were silken steel and they wouldn't let go. "There are no locked doors here, Ash. We can walk out any time we want to. We’re in a big section of cave, here. There’s plenty of room. You could park a car in here. And you're not alone. Not anymore."

  His head came up and he faced her, not seeing her at all, only feeling her there. He stroked her arm, her shoulder, squeezed it. "I'm sorry."

  "You're hurting." Her lips touched his face. "So am I. You don't want to let me in, Ash, but I'm already there."

  His breathing had calmed. In her arms, the old terror had evaporated. The little boy inside still cried, but this time someone was listening. He relaxed slightly, leaning back against the wall. He felt her turn to sit tight beside him, her body touching his. She gripped his hand.

  "It was your mother who locked you in the little room."

  He nodded, though he knew she couldn't see. "She was a whore. I was bad for business."

  Her hand clenched. "You were afraid for her."

  "I hated her."

  "How old were you, Ash?"

  He tensed. Bitterness coated the inside of his mouth and his voice came out thick with it. "Four, the first time."

  She settled her head on his shoulder. "Four-year-olds don't know how to hate."

  The child inside him cried harder. Ash ignored it, focusing instead on his anger. "This one did."

  She shook her head. "I don't think so."

  From somewhere deep inside him, the cries became words, pleas. I just wanted her to love me. Why couldn't she love me?

  Ash went rigid, shaking himself. "Maybe we'd better move on."

  But her hands cupped his face and held it close to hers. Her lips touched his, and he tasted her salty tears on them. Her arms crept around his neck. "You're not alone anymore." Her lips moved and she kissed his face, his neck, his ear. "I won't let you be...not ever again."