Faceless

by Alexandra Ivy

  Noah had a horrifying flashback to the moment the truck had pulled next to him and he’d caught sight of the gun pointed at his head. What if Wynter had been driving? Would she have recognized the danger in time? And if she had, would the killer have stayed to finish the job?

  The mere thought was enough to make his blood run cold.

  But then again, Wynter had a point. She couldn’t stop living her life.

  “I don’t like it,” he groused, strolling around the edge of the bed to pull her into his arms.

  She tilted back her head to reveal her rueful smile. “Yeah, I get that.”

  “We should take a nice, long vacation.”

  “Where?”

  “We could soak up the heat in Miami.” A pang of longing tugged at Noah’s heart. He’d made his home in Iowa and he loved being here, but there was a part of him that would always crave the sun and fun that filled his childhood days. “I know the best beaches, plus a fabulous Taiwanese restaurant. We’d even get a family discount.”

  “That sounds nice,” she murmured.

  “Or we could take a cruise to the Bahamas,” he suggested.

  “I’ve never stayed on an island.”

  During college Noah had spent his summers working on a chartered yacht that traveled from Miami to the Bahamas. The experience could have soured him; the vacation spots were overcrowded with noisy tourists and cheap trinkets. But beyond the glitzy holiday towns he’d discovered few secluded coves that were stunningly beautiful.

  “White beaches, blue skies, and fruity drinks,” he murmured.

  “Glorious.”

  Noah studied her delicate features. There was a smile on her lips that didn’t reach her eyes. “But?”

  “But I can’t leave Larkin while my grandpa is fighting for his life.”

  “I suppose not,” he reluctantly agreed. In the back of his mind, however, he pledged to sweep Wynter off to a romantic vacation as soon as the madness ended.

  Going onto her tippy-toes, Wynter pressed a kiss to his jaw. “I’m going to shower.”

  “Do you need help scrubbing your back?”

  “No, we’ll never get out of here.”

  He lowered his head, capturing her soft lips in a kiss that lingered longer than he’d intended. “That’s the plan.”

  She pressed her hands against his chest and stepped back. “Go make some coffee or feed your hounds,” she commanded, her cheeks flushed with desire.

  Noah reluctantly pulled on his clothes and took care of his morning chores. Once they’d checked on the plants and stopped by the hospital, he hoped to lure Wynter to a nearby town for a nice dinner with wine and a decadent dessert. She deserved a couple hours to forget and just relax.

  They headed out of the house and drove to Sander’s farm in comfortable silence. He liked that they didn’t need to fill the air with constant sound. It indicated an ease that was rare between people. Pulling into the drive, he parked in front of the house. There was no easy way to get to the greenhouses. The hill was too steep to drive, and Sander was too cheap to have an access road built through the dell.

  Switching off the engine, they climbed out of the Jeep and Noah headed toward the narrow pathway.

  “Wait.” Wynter reached out to grasp his arm. “There’s someone here.”

  He halted, glancing over his shoulder. Belatedly he noticed the black Volvo parked on the other side of the house. It was a sleek, glossy sort of vehicle that looked sharply out of place among the shabby buildings and rusting farm equipment. “Do you recognize the car?”

  “No.”

  “I’m going to check it out.” Returning to the Jeep, he pulled his service handgun out of the locked glove compartment. “You stay here.”

  She leaned into the Jeep behind him, grabbing the hunting knife that was also in the glove compartment. Stepping back, she eyed him with a defiant expression. “No way. I’m going with you.”

  “Wynter.”

  She pointed the heavy knife toward the nearby house. “It’s my grandpa’s property. Besides, I don’t want you accidentally shooting some poor neighbor who stopped by to put a casserole in the freezer or to clean the house while he’s in the hospital.”

  He rolled his eyes, heading across the yard. “I promise not to kill any do-gooders. But if there’s a threat to you, I’m shooting first and asking questions later.”

  She sent him a chiding gaze, but she didn’t argue. Instead she climbed the steps and rounded the porch toward the side of the house.

  “Noah.”

  Coming to a halt, she nodded toward the door. The dawn was just starting to crest the horizon, allowing him to see that it wasn’t fully closed. Together they stepped forward and Noah pushed the door wide enough to peer into the shadowed kitchen. At first there was nothing to see. No movement, nothing seemingly out of place. Then he heard Wynter’s soft gasp.

  His gaze lowered to the floor. Next to the wall was a slender figure sprawled on the floor, a pool of blood surrounding her head like a gruesome halo. The face was turned toward them with the eyes wide-open. It gave the corpse a look of surprise that only heightened the horror of the grisly discovery.

  “Erika,” he breathed.

  “Oh my God,” Wynter burst out, taking a step forward. As if she intended to rush toward the woman.

  He reached out to grasp her arm. “No, Wynter, stay here.”

  “But—”

  “This is a crime scene.”

  Wynter stilled, the color draining from her face as she accepted what her eyes were telling her. “She’s dead.”

  Noah studied the blood that leaked from the wound in the center of her forehead. It was dried to a dark, sickly brown.

  “Probably for several hours,” he said.

  “She was shot, wasn’t she?”

  “I’m no expert, but that’s what it looks like.”

  In silence they both absorbed the fact that the woman who they’d known since they were teenagers was lying dead on the floor. Years ago she’d been his lifeline. A steadying force in a world that was churning out of control. It seemed impossible to accept that anyone would extinguish such a gentle, caring soul.

  As his disbelief fogged his brain, Noah still absently noted bits and details. He was weirdly struck by the fact that her hair was half-pulled into a tidy knot and half tumbled down her back. She was dressed as if she was headed to the office—or perhaps church—but there were smudges on her cheek. Had she been in a struggle? And there was something beside her. A small silver object. Was it a needle?

  Bizarre.

  “Why would she be here?” Wynter broke into his distracted thoughts.

  With an effort, Noah forced himself to battle through the shock humming through him like a low-level pulse of electricity. Pulling his phone from his pocket he dialed 911 and reported the body. Then, satisfied that help was on the way, he glanced toward Wynter.

  “Did she know Sander?”

  “I’m sure they met, but my grandpa was embarrassingly blunt about his opinion of therapists,” she reminded him. “He never wanted me in the grief counseling group in the first place.”

  Noah frowned, trying to imagine what could have drawn the woman to this location. “Could she have been looking for you?”

  Wynter hesitated, as if trying to dredge up a memory. Finally she shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose it’s possible. I can’t remember if I told her that I would be staying with you or not when she stopped by the hospital. She might have assumed I would be here to take care of the livestock.”

  Noah glanced back into the kitchen, noticing a narrow door that was open. “Where does that door go?”

  Wynter followed his gaze, making a small, startled sound. “I’d forgotten that it was even there. It leads to the basement.”

  “What’s down there?”

  “Nothing.” Her tone was adamant. “My grandma used it as a root cellar for the veggies and fruit she canned every summer, but after she passed it was overtaken with dust and cobwebs.
I suppose my grandpa would use it during a tornado warning, but as far as I know it’s empty.”

  By the position of her body it looked as if Erika had been stepping out of the basement when she’d been shot. Or maybe she’d been opening the door and someone coming up from the basement had pulled the trigger. He could inspect an animal and establish the cause of death and the basics of what had happened. He could determine if a deer had been shot illegally from the road, or if the animal had been lured into position by bait traps. But this was a person. He was completely out of his depths.

  Still, there had to be a reason the door was open. “Is there any other way in and out of the basement beyond the kitchen?”

  “There’s a small window. It would be a tight squeeze.” She paused. “And an old coal chute. Grandpa’s had trouble with animals crawling through that so I think he nailed it shut.” She sent him a baffled frown, tears flooding her eyes as if she was just now realizing this was more than a nightmare. “Why would anyone sneak into what’s nothing more than a barren cellar?”

  Noah tried and failed to imagine Dr. Erika Tomalin creeping into a dirty basement in the middle of nowhere.

  “I have no idea,” he admitted.

  Wynter shuddered, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “This is . . .”

  “Madness,” he finished for her.

  “Yes,” she agreed, another shudder shaking her slender body. “I feel like we’ve dropped into some dark Wonderland where nothing makes sense.”

  The sound of distant sirens carved through the chill morning air. Wrapping his arm around Wynter’s shoulders, he tugged her back.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter 25

  The Stranger lurked in the woods to savor the plethora of emergency vehicles gathered around the farmhouse. Despite the distance, the scream of sirens echoed through the dells. The Stranger shuddered in bliss. It wasn’t sexual. Only a pervert would be aroused by death. But there was magic in the frantic chaos.

  Lights flashed from a dozen vehicles. Red and white and blue. So bright they threatened to blind the gathered gawkers. A thrilling sight, even if the Stranger was too far away to truly appreciate the full impact.

  It wasn’t as the Stranger had planned. None of it.

  Dr. Erika Tomalin wasn’t supposed to be involved. But she’d stuck her nose into business that didn’t concern her and then she’d made that fatal call. It had sealed her fate.

  There’d been no time for adequate planning. The stupid woman had to be silenced before she could speak with Wynter. His only choice was to hold her captive until there was an opportunity to consider the various options. There was too much to lose to make a mistake.

  Not now.

  After hours of debating one outlandish plot after another, the decision had been made. The bitch had to disappear. The cops might be suspicious, but with no body there could be no way to determine if she’d been murdered or simply decided to walk away from her old life. People did it all the time.

  Waiting until the cover of darkness, the Stranger returned to the farm, intending to collect the woman and drive her far away from Larkin. Who could have suspected she was already awake? Yanking open the door, the Stranger had panicked when the meddling therapist had lunged forward.

  It was too risky to try and get close enough to knock her out. Last time she’d been taken by surprise. This time she would no doubt fight back.

  There was nothing to do but pull the trigger.

  Now the Stranger accepted that the botched plan did at least have some benefits.

  A smile appeared as the chaos filled the emptiness inside.

  * * *

  An hour later, Wynter finished watering her plants and picked the ripe tomatoes, lettuce, and cucumbers she needed. Some would be used in her restaurant and the rest would be sold in her stall at the farmers’ market.

  Noah was helping her load the crates into the back of the Jeep when a familiar woman dressed in a uniform jogged down the stairs from the house and crossed toward them.

  Wynter had been reeling from a combination of shock and grief when the first wave of emergency responders had arrived. She’d watched from the shelter of Noah’s arms as they’d rushed into the kitchen, vaguely relieved when she caught sight of Chelle. She didn’t know if the woman had been on duty or if she’d come because she suspected the death was related to her ongoing investigations.

  It’d been Noah who’d suggested she complete the tasks she’d come there to do. No doubt he’d hoped the distraction would help her recover from the horror of finding Erika Tomalin’s dead body in her grandpa’s kitchen.

  She wasn’t sure it’d worked. Granted, she was no longer battling the urge to vomit, but she’d gone from too many emotions to not enough. As if everything had shut down in an effort to protect her from the shock.

  “Thanks for hanging around,” Chelle murmured. “I know this wasn’t easy.”

  “I’m almost numb,” Wynter confessed.

  Chelle heaved a weary sigh. “Yeah, I get that.”

  “Are you in charge?” Noah asked, standing just behind Wynter.

  “For now. Agents from DCI will be here tomorrow.” Chelle’s voice was carefully bland, making it impossible to know if she was relieved or pissed that the case was being taken off her hands. She reached into her pocket to pull out an electronic pad and stylus. “But I still need to take your statements.”

  “Does it have to be now?” Noah demanded.

  Wynter glanced over her shoulder, sending him a reassuring smile. He’d been a steady presence as she’d mindlessly moved through the greenhouses. What was that song her grandma used to sing? Something about a safe harbor. That was what Noah had become. No, what he’d been from the day they’d first met all those years ago.

  “It’s okay, Noah,” she assured him before returning her attention to Chelle. “We came here this morning because I wanted to check on my greenhouses. The watering system isn’t set up on timers so I have to do it manually. Plus I needed some produce for the restaurant. I’m opening it tomorrow and I always make vegetable soup on Tuesdays—” Wynter cut off her words, realizing she was babbling.

  Chelle scribbled something on the pad. “What time did you get here?”

  “Early,” Noah answered. “Just past six.”

  Chelle touched the pad, scrolling through her notes. “The call came in at six-fifteen. So you went to the house before going down to the greenhouses?”

  Wynter nodded. “We pulled into the drive and when we got out of the Jeep we noticed the car. It obviously didn’t belong to my grandpa so we decided to see who was here.”

  “And that was when you discovered Dr. Tomalin?”

  “Yes.” It was oddly difficult to form the word as the image of Erika’s bloody face and blank stare seared through her mind.

  “Did you go into the house?”

  Perhaps sensing Wynter’s sudden distress, Noah smoothed his hand down the curve of her back.

  “We stepped inside the door,” he told Chelle. “Once we saw Erika we stopped and called nine-one-one.”

  “Did you see anyone else?”

  Noah shook his head. “No.”

  Chelle glanced up, her gaze taking in the sheer isolation of the farm. It was a double-edged sword. On one hand, it would be easy to sneak around without being noticed. Then again, if someone happened to be driving past or working in one of the distant fields, they would have remembered seeing an unknown car parked at Sander’s house.

  “You didn’t meet anyone on the drive out here?” Chelle pressed.

  “Not after we turned onto the gravel road,” Noah told her.

  Chelle glanced back at Wynter. “Dr. Tomalin didn’t say anything about coming out here?”

  “No. She stopped by the hospital after my grandpa was shot, but that was the only time I’ve talked to her in months. She certainly never mentioned that she intended to visit the farm.”

  Chelle frowned. “Did she have a connection with Sander
?”

  Wynter tried to think of any plausible reason Erika and her grandpa would cross paths. There was nothing. “Not that I know of.”

  “You’re sure he wasn’t in therapy?”

  A harsh laugh was wrenched from Wynter’s throat. “Positive. He would rather chew glass than have some quack digging around his brain. That’s a direct quote.”

  “That sounds like Sander,” Chelle agreed in dry tones.

  Wynter turned her attention toward the house where the coroner was preparing to at last haul away the body. For the past hour the local police had been busy taking photos and scanning the property for any traces of evidence that might lead to the killer. She pressed a hand against her stomach, battling back another wave of nausea. “I truly can’t imagine why she would be out here.”

  Chelle wrote something on the pad before she was scrolling back through her notes. “What can you tell me about your grandfather’s safe?” she abruptly asked Wynter.

  “His safe?”

  “Didn’t you know he had one?”

  It took a second for Wynter to recall the small portable safe that her grandfather had bought to protect his important documents in case of a fire.

  “Oh yes. It’s in the dining room next to the china cabinet,” she said.

  “What did he keep in there?”

  “I think he had the deed to the farm and his birth certificate in there. Probably a few other papers.”

  “Anything else?”

  Wynter started to shake her head, then she stiffened. “He liked to keep cash on hand. That’s how he paid his cleaning lady that came in once a week, and the occasional farmhand who helped out.”

  Chelle arched a brow. “How much money did he keep in there?”

  “Anywhere between a hundred bucks and a thousand,” Wynter admitted.

  “Did a lot of people know about the safe?”

  “He didn’t keep it a secret.” Wynter grimaced. “I warned Grandpa not to have that kind of money lying around the house. It was an unnecessary temptation. But he insisted that his rifle kept away intruders.”

  “Why are you asking about the safe?” Noah asked.

  Chelle paused, as if considering whether or not to answer the question. Then, perhaps realizing she would soon be taken off the case, she shrugged. “It was open and the documents were scattered on the floor.”