by Tee O'Fallon
Panic exploded in her mind, and she drew in quick, shallow breaths, trying her best not to tighten his hold and add to the throbbing pain in her scalp.
Don’t give up. Fight!
With a rough shove, he pushed her to the ground on her belly and rammed his knee between her shoulder blades. She breathed in a mixture of damp grass, smoke, and gasoline.
Again, he grabbed her hair, pulling it tighter and forcing her to angle her head backward. Something sharp dug into the tender flesh of her neck.
A knife.
She uttered a choking cry. The knife he murdered Becca with?
“Where is the memory card?” His voice was low and raspy. “Where is it?”
She gasped for air but that only dug the edge of the blade deeper into her skin. She couldn’t see it but felt it—blood trickling from the open wound. “The F—”
No. If she told him the FBI and the police had the memory card, he’d kill her. She had to give him a reason to keep her alive. “It’s in my bank box.”
“Goddammit!” he roared then rammed his knee more forcefully into her back.
A jagged rock bit into her ribs, sending a stab of agony through her torso. “I can get it for you,” she grit out. “First thing tomorrow morning.”
“Lying bitch,” he growled at her ear. “I don’t believe you. I already know it’s not at the dog shelter. Is it in the house?”
“N-no.” Once he realized she couldn’t produce the memory card, he’d figure out the police had it. Then he’d have no reason to keep her alive. I saw his face, and he knows it. Either way, he was going to kill her.
All she had to do was stay alive long enough to get free. Long enough for the police to arrive. It sounded so simple. It wasn’t. He had a knife and was much stronger than she was.
She had to stall for time. Better yet, get the hell out of there.
Angus’s shrill barks rent the air. The puppy darted in, trying to bite the killer’s arm. The blade at her throat disappeared as he took a swipe at Angus.
“Fucking dog.”
“Nooooo.” She flung her fist into his forearm, making enough contact to offset his aim. Angus darted away, his barks becoming more insistent. Rage bubbled up from somewhere deep inside her. If he hurts that puppy, I’ll— What? What could she do?
A siren wailed in the distance. She still couldn’t see the killer’s face but sensed his body going taut.
“Get up.” He grabbed her upper arm and jerked her to her feet. She gasped as tendons and ligaments screamed in protest. “Move!” A hand at her back shoved her so hard she nearly stumbled.
She started to turn but he shoved her again, forcing her across the grass. Angus had stopped barking, and she flicked her gaze back and forth, searching for him. Finally she glimpsed his golden coat as he bounded beside them. Relief poured over her.
“Where are we going?” Wherever it was, it couldn’t be good.
He grabbed her again by the hair, jerking her against his chest. His breath was hot in her ear. “Inside, to get the card. Then, somewhere I can set your soul free.” The growled words reeked with menace and fury.
Set my soul free?
Coming from a homicidal madman wielding a sharp knife, that couldn’t be good.
Sirens grew louder as he forced her toward the castle steps. When she didn’t come up with the memory card, he’d gut her on the spot. She’d never have the chance to convince Dayne he was wrong. They could make it work. For that to happen, she had to live.
Over the blood pounding in her ears, his mumbled words slithered over her like a venomous snake. “He will set me free. He will show me the path to righteousness, guiding my sword to set all sinners free of shame.” With that last word, he twisted her hair tighter.
She bit back a cry. Sonofabitch! He was out of his mind. And angry.
I’m angry, too. Pissed as hell, actually.
This evil man, this—fucking asshole—had no right to take her life. She’d never get married or have children. Never love or be loved. Only vaguely did it register that she was really getting the hang of this cursing thing.
Fuck. That.
She took a deep breath and spun. Sections of hair parted from her scalp. She screamed then reared back her fist and slammed it into his face.
It was a glancing blow. Momentum sent her flying against his chest, but he’d released her hair.
He coughed, then coughed again, dragging in a wheezing breath.
Right then she didn’t care if she broke his windpipe because she was free.
“Angus!” She tore across the driveway, hitting the tree line at a dead run. Branches whipped at her face, slicing into her skin. Her heart hammered, and her pulse roared in her ears. The woods were nearly pitch black and she stumbled, righting herself before face-planting into a rock. She glanced to her right, gratified to see Angus keeping pace.
Crunching leaves and branches came from behind her. He’s coming.
She ran faster, pushed herself harder until her thighs and calves screamed in protest.
A sliver of light from a break in the clouds lit something ahead. Water. She veered around the puddle then tripped, forcing her to step into the water. Mud sucked at her foot and she went down on her knees. Mucky water splashed in her face, obscuring her vision.
Oh shit. Shit. She couldn’t see.
She drew in ragged breaths, swiping at the muck in her eyes while reaching out blindly to steady herself. Her hand made contact with the very thing she’d tripped over. At first, she couldn’t identify the object. A second later, she froze. Her throat constricted, and she nearly screamed. The thing she’d tripped over was—
A body. The clouds gave way just long enough for her to glimpse an embroidered nametag.
“Oh no.” She covered her mouth with her hand, swallowing hard to keep from vomiting the remnants of food in her stomach.
It was Manny—the flower delivery guy.
Angus whimpered. “Shhh,” she crooned. If he barked, he’d give away their location.
The puppy quieted, prancing nervously a few feet away.
She pushed with her hands, but the mud sucked her in deeper. More crunching. Closer this time. A burst of adrenaline refueled her determination. Stifling a cry of rage, she tugged first one foot free of the mud, then the other. One of her shoes came off as she pulled from the muck.
“Angus, let’s go,” she whispered, and they took off again.
She had no idea how far they’d run from the castle. Fifty yards. Eighty. A hundred…
Her chest heaved, her muscles ached, and the foot without a shoe was cut up from sharp branches and rocks and stung like a mother.
Another break in the clouds glinted off a building up ahead. The old document bunker. She hadn’t been inside the place for years. The thing was like a fortress, with concrete block walls and heavy, locking metal doors. If she could get there before he caught up to them, she’d be safe until help arrived.
Kat raced to the building and tugged on the handle. It didn’t budge. It should have been unlocked. They hadn’t stored anything there since the fire twenty years ago. Now all her family’s valuable documents were either stored in a bank vault or on hard drives.
Twigs snapped. She jerked her head around. “Open. Dear God, please open!”
She gritted her teeth, pulling harder on the handle. Her arm and shoulder muscles screamed from the strain. It still didn’t budge. The snapping of limbs behind her grew louder.
Kat planted her shoeless foot on the concrete wall beside the door. With another mighty heave, the door squeaked then opened. She fell backward on her ass, and a bolt of pain lanced up her spine.
A dark figure crashed through the trees.
Her pulse rate ramped higher. She pushed to her feet, opening the door just enough for her and Angus to slip inside. With a shaking hand, she fumbled for the li
ght switch, praying the power hadn’t been cut off. Long, tubular bulbs flickered to life. She pulled the door shut and twisted the lock on the knob.
The handle jiggled and she jumped back, holding her breath. The handle jiggled again then went silent. Relief had her sagging to the point where she almost collapsed on the floor.
Her chest continued sawing as she sucked in damp, musty air. She turned to take in their surroundings. A charred desk in one corner. Burned remains of the old oak filing cabinets. A lone fire extinguisher, and—
A river of sweat trickled between her shoulder blades. The other door. She’d forgotten there were two doors to the repository. Was it locked?
She ran to it, reaching out to test the knob.
The door burst open, slamming into her forehead. She staggered back. The room spun as she fell to her knees.
A door slammed shut. When her vision cleared, she looked up…
…into the face of pure evil.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Dayne’s red-and-blue strobes ricocheted off the trees bracketing Tweed Boulevard. He turned off the main road, and before he made it halfway down the drive to the Haven, other strobes flashed in the distance.
His heart rate didn’t slow a beat as he hit the final turn. He still couldn’t reach Kat, Beth, or any of the guards on their cells, and he’d called every one of them three times during the thirty minutes he’d hauled ass up the Turnpike. The two local PD cruisers parked in front of the Haven should have eased his anxiety. They didn’t. Nor did the ambulance quickly closing the gap behind him. The PD must have called for it.
His heart leaped into his throat. He shoved the gearshift into park, jumped out, and ran to the nearest cop. “Who is it? Who’s the ambulance for?” He held his breath. Please don’t be—
“A security guard.” The cop jerked his thumb to the back of the Haven. “Someone knifed him in the gut. Don’t know if he’ll make it.”
He let out the breath he’d been holding. Mauser was here. Somewhere on the grounds. Knowing the guard had been taken out was bad enough. At least Kevin, Fiona, and the volunteers were long gone for the day.
“Call for more backup and stay alert,” Dayne warned. “There’s a homicide suspect on the loose and he’s here. Name’s Christian Mauser.” He gave the cop a quick description. “Tell your partner, then meet me at the castle. I’ll leave the gate open.” Two seconds later he was back in his SUV and speeding toward the gate. He punched in the code then hit the button to lock the gate in the open position.
Dayne slammed his foot on the gas pedal. Remy snorted from the back seat. “Sorry, girl.”
He skidded to a stop in front of the castle, pausing only to grab a flashlight from the console and pop open Remy’s door. The pungent smell of gasoline and smoke hit him in the face, growing stronger as he rounded the northwest corner. He clicked on the flashlight, taking in the smoldering shrubs first and then the three bodies lying on the edge of the grass.
The guards. And Beth. Shit.
Strobe lights reflected off the trees, indicating the other cop had joined him.
Dayne drew his gun, maintaining a firm grip on the flashlight as he aimed the beam over the yard and the brush line. He ran to Beth and the guards, feeling each of their necks for a pulse. Luckily, they were still alive.
“Call for more ambulances,” he shouted to the cop rushing over. “I’m going inside.” He ran to the front steps. Remy loped next to him. Cautiously, he pushed the door open. It was another five minutes before he cleared the place. No sign of Kat anywhere. Or Angus.
Before leaving her bedroom, he grabbed her lavender sweater for Remy to get a scent.
Christ, if anything happens to her… The thought gutted him.
He ran back outside just as two more cruisers skidded to a stop in front of the steps. Dayne’s cell vibrated and he yanked it from his belt. Paulson. “What’ve you got?”
“Two clear prints from the hairbrush, and we got a hit. A big one. Christian Mauser’s real name is Robert Fulbright.”
“I know that name.” He tried to remember why but couldn’t.
“You should,” Paulson continued. “We all should. Eighteen years ago, Robert Fulbright killed his entire family in Oregon. His wife, mother, three children. The guy disappeared without a trace.”
Dayne gripped the phone tighter. Jesus, he did remember that case. The killings happened before he became an FBI agent, but Becca told him all about it because she’d worked the case before transferring to New Jersey.
The rest of the puzzle locked into place.
Becca had photographed Christian Mauser in connection with her insurance fraud investigation. She’d either recognized him, or he’d caught her photographing him. So he killed her then stole the file from her office.
“Dayne, you there?” Paulson shouted. A siren screamed through the phone. But the detective was all the way down in Edison.
“Yeah.” He gripped the sweater in his hand even tighter. “Send more patrol cars. Tell them to start searching the roads in and around the Vandenburg estate. Tweed Boulevard, Bradley Hill Road, and Park Road.”
“Already on their way.”
Dayne ended the call then held Kat’s sweater out for Remy to sniff. When his dog had inhaled her scent, he tucked the sweater through his belt. “Such!”
Remy tore down the steps, nose to the ground, circling until she found a track and followed it to where the cops stood by Beth and the guards’ prone bodies. His K-9 zigzagged then circled twice more before heading across the driveway to the tree line. She turned to wait for him, expecting him to clip on her search lead.
“Voraus!” He waved his hand in the air for Remy to keep going then he hit the ground running.
He aimed his flashlight dead ahead, doing his best to keep up. Occasionally, Remy stopped, circled, then took off again. Dayne’s pulse raced faster than he thought possible. Sweat soaked his polo. He prayed they wouldn’t be too late.
He recalled the day he and Remy had found a track that led all the way through the woods to the Blauvelt State Park parking lot. He’d been sure then that Mauser had left his vehicle there. If Mauser got Kat into his Equinox before they caught up, he could take her anywhere. And kill her.
Fuck. He hadn’t put out a BOLO for the Equinox. Another mistake.
He pounded through the trees, not caring how much noise he made. If—no, when—Remy found Kat, she’d alert and start barking.
As if reading his thoughts, Remy’s barks sliced through the air, getting louder as Dayne neared where his K-9 stood in a moonlit clearing up ahead. Judging by the rigidity of his dog’s posture, she’d found something. The slumped form on the ground at Remy’s feet was definitely a body. Time—and his heart—seemed to slow.
Please don’t be Kat.
The beam of his flashlight lit on the corpse. He sucked in a tight breath, letting his head tip forward in the most relief he’d ever experienced in his godforsaken life. It wasn’t Kat.
The man’s nametag glowed in the overhead light. Manny. Beside the body lay a bouquet of mangled pink roses. He’d bet his ass this was the same bunch of flowers Manny had with him outside the Vandenburg building in the city. Meaning, the man had been dead for days.
Meaning Christian Mauser aka Robert Fulbright had been watching them for who knew how long.
A chilling fear gripped his soul. If Remy tracked Kat’s scent only to find another corpse, he didn’t know what he’d do.
He’d made a mistake. A big fucking mistake.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Kat’s belly lurched as the killer secured the lock on the knob then slid a knife from a leather sheath on his belt.
“It’s too late. You’ve ruined everything.” The blade was long and sharp and shiny as he raised it above his shoulder, ranting louder, “Because of you, bitch, I have to start all over again. Do you
have any idea what that means?” Spittle flew from his mouth. His eyes radiated madness.
You’re not the only one who’s mad. She gritted her teeth. It can’t end this way. I won’t let it. Although how she’d get out of this, she didn’t know.
He tightened his grip on the ebony handle, raising the knife higher. “God will cleanse your soul. He will put you on the righteous path, saving you from your sins. He will set your soul free. I am His servant.”
On top of everything else, he really was out of his fucking mind. Sorry, Mother. Swearing—even to herself—just seemed like the right thing to do at the moment. Besides, if she was about to die, it wouldn’t really matter anyway.
Frantically, she searched the room again, but nothing had changed. No deadly weapons had miraculously materialized since the first time she’d checked. With every step closer he took, she crab-walked backward. Angus lunged for his leg, latching on the way he’d done to Remy. Only this wasn’t playtime.
The killer’s eyes narrowed as he glared down at the puppy. More spittle flew from his lips then he kicked Angus, sending him tumbling over and over. The puppy hit the wall with a thump and lay still.
“No!” she cried and crawled to Angus’s side. Her heart dropped as she touched his limp, unconscious body. Oh god no. Poor Angus.
“You bastard!” she screamed, balling her hands into fists. Fury, the likes of which she’d never known, erupted inside her. For the first time in her life, she wanted to hurt someone. Physically hurt them.
Kat lunged for the fire extinguisher. The tank was probably empty, but it was all she had. She aimed the nozzle at his face then squeezed the trigger. Thick white spray splattered his face, completely obscuring his eyes, mouth, and nose.
The knife fell to the floor, clattering on the concrete. He sputtered, dragging in wheezing breaths and wiping the foamy chemical from his eyes.
She lunged for the knife but he grabbed her wrist, giving a vicious twist as he picked up the knife in his other hand. Pain shot up her arm to her shoulder, and she screamed.
A dog barked. Remy.