Daisy turned back around, and Michael could see the tears rolling down her cheeks as she stared at the deputy. Michael watched as the blood stained figure followed the woman from the bank. “She’s next—he’s been watching her for some time. He won’t take her for awhile, but he dreams about it.”
“Shut up,” Daisy whispered harshly. “Damn it, just shut up.” Dear God, she was going to be sick. She knew it. Not Jake. Damn it, he had been there when they had found two of the victims. Tanya. He’d been there when they were looking for Tanya. Daisy moaned and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, muffling the sound.
“I’m sorry.”
Tears all but choked her. “If you are wrong about this…”
Michael sighed. “I’m not.”
She looked at him. He felt his heart break as she stared at him with haunted eyes. “I know.”
Jake owned a cabin a good thirty miles outside of town. Daisy sat at the computer in the county clerk’s office, pulling up the files she needed. She did it with a blank mind. She couldn’t think about what she was doing, or why.
If she did—if she did, she’d break. So she didn’t think about it. She focused on the menial task, blocking out all other thought.
“What are you doing?” Michael asked.
He’d been very quiet, his voice neutral, almost as if he wasn’t sure how to handle her right now. Hell, Daisy wasn’t sure how to handle herself right now. She felt like she was going to shatter.
Slowly, focusing on each word, she said, “Looking for an address. Or an area. Jake…Jake owns a cabin.” She flicked him a glance. “You said there was one.”
Looking back at the screen, she continued to search through the files. Finally, she found the program she needed. “Damned clerks. Always updating things,” she muttered. “They’ve changed the program they used to use.”
She typed in Jake’s information and waited. A few seconds later, the data scrolled on the screen. She printed the sheet out and stood up. Even though she couldn’t hear him, she knew he was behind her. His quiet presence didn’t set her on edge quite the same way it had before. It was almost like her system had adjusted to him—started trusting him on some very deep, very basic level.
She believed him. He was right about Jake. She knew it. The knowledge hit her like a fist in the belly. Tears burned in her eyes.
She really believed him.
Oh, dear God. Closing her eyes, she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, trying to silence the tears rising inside her.
His fingers brushed against the back of her neck and she tore away, whispering harshly, “Don’t. Okay? Just don’t.”
Clutching the address in her hand, she slid out of the room before he could say anything. Hell, what in the world could he say? He could try saying he was sorry, but what would that do?
It wouldn’t make this any easier. Nothing would. Nothing ever could.
One of my best friends is a killer.
You can’t…not right now.
But he couldn’t go back there alone. That bitch—her voice drove him crazy. And he needed…needed it. Hadn’t had any fun with that last one—needed to feel that rush, needed to hear her scream again. Maybe, just maybe, it would ease the pain in his head, wash away the fog. Pain cleansed. Purified. Yes. It did.
He’d take her. Grab her. And when he made her scream, he would be able to think again.
Her…the faces all blended together. Their faces seemed to merge into one. The face shattered—reshifted. Formed.
Finally a face he could recognize. Somebody he could reach out, touch…take.
The voice of caution kept murmuring, No, you can’t, you can’t…too soon, too soon.
But he had to. He had to grab another one. Had to do something to shut up that voice. Had to shut her up. Or drown her out. The screams would drown out that voice. He knew it.
“Do it,” he muttered. Swiping the back of his hand over the back of his mouth, he nodded. He watched as she pulled over, a satisfied smile on his face. Slow leak—imagine that.
Jake Morris turned on the flashers and parked behind Sandy Hampton. Casting a quick look around, he climbed out of the car and crossed over to her. “Hey, Sandy…what’s the matter here?”
Michael climbed out of the car, staring off into the woods.
They were parked in front of a dark quiet cabin. “Fishing rental. I’ve had to come out here a few times. People lose their keys, set the grill on fire…one woman locked her husband out because he’d spent five hours out on the lake and left her here alone.”
He didn’t say anything, tucking his hands into his pockets, as he looked off into the distance.
“We’ll have to hike it from here. I’m not exactly sure where we are going. The lake is through this stand of trees. Jake’s cabin is north of us, set back a little from the lake’s edge.” Daisy unlocked the trunk, digging out two flashlights and tossing one his way. “I’m not sure where. We’re going to have to hunt for it.”
He caught it automatically without ever looking her way. Softly, Michael said, “I can find it.”
“You can find it,” she repeated slowly. Daisy closed the trunk and turned to look at him. “How can you do that?” she asked quietly.
“I feel it. Let’s go.”
Michael smiled a little as he heard her disgusted sigh. But then, he lost track of her, of the night, of the trees. Everything faded away as the voices of the dead rose in the night around him. Not all of them had passed on. Some weren’t strong enough—it took a lot of strength for a dead person’s soul to be able to cross the veil that separated life and death. The trauma alone weakened them. But being here, this close to where their lives ended, Michael felt them.
The maelstrom of emotion pulled at him. His jaw clenched as he waded through it—like wading through waist-high mud. And the closer he got to his goal, the more his own anger grew.
There were a hell of a lot more than four victims. Mike felt the brush of so many souls that he lost count of them all. But there were dozens. He’d been killing for years.
Tanya felt him.
“You found me…”
Focusing his thought required too much effort. Out loud, he said quietly, “I told you I would.”
Behind him, Daisy said, “Huh?”
He shook his head and continued to talk to the ghost. She hadn’t fully manifested yet, but she had crossed over. Her own anger and pain had fueled it and soon, it would be too late. If he didn’t help her move beyond this soon, she’d become one of the few things he did fear.
Poltergeists were the only ghosts that could cause harm. Their rage empowered them with a strength that was easily five times that of what they had in life. Guiding a poltergeist into the hereafter wasn’t easy—Michael had done it before, but only twice. “I told you I would,” he repeated, just as much to reassure himself as her. “We’ll stop him.”
“You’d better hurry. There’s another woman here. I can’t watch this again, Michael. I can’t—something is happening inside me. I don’t know what it is, but I can’t control it. Every time I look at him, I feel so angry, I don’t even know myself.”
Behind him, Daisy asked quietly, “Michael…? Who are you talking to?”
“Tanya, don’t you think you should be angry?” he asked as he jumped over a log. Turning, he held out a hand to Daisy only to find her staring at him with dark, troubled eyes.
“You’re a spooky bastard, you know that, O’Rourke?” she said flatly even as she accepted his hand. She let him help her climb over the fallen tree that reached nearly to her waist. She dusted her hands off and muttered, “A very spooky bastard.”
Slanting a grin at her, he turned back to the path and focused once more on Tanya. Nothing like trying to play a counselor to the deceased. She didn’t need to try to suppress that rage—that didn’t work. She had to let go of it if she wanted to move on. But they couldn’t let it spiral out of control either.
“Angry…yes, I have a right to be an
gry. But not at her…and I scared her. He came in with her—and I lost it. Now she’s just as scared of me as he is. And what did she do? Nothing. The only thing she did was be stupid. We were both stupid…” Tanya’s voice and presence faded from his mind.
Michael stopped in the middle of the trail and tried to center his attention on what was around him, instead of what lay before him. Daisy stood behind him, her breathing soft and steady, but he could feel the tension rolling from her in waves. “We’re close,” he said quietly.
Daisy laughed—it was a high, wild sound. Her eyes were dark and terrified in the pale circle of her face, but he didn’t once wonder if she would be able to handle this. “I figured that out while you were carrying on conversations with the dead. You couldn’t have given me a warning about that, either?”
A bitter smile curled his lips and he looked at her. “My life is a little too weird for any warning label to cover it,” he murmured. And that realization made him feel very, very bitter.
Adrenaline pulsed through him. Fear ate away at him, but he shoved it aside. He had to hear it, had to feel it—the screams weren’t the same unless he felt her flesh. Until she struggled.
And it wasn’t right when he was afraid.
He wouldn’t be afraid once he touched her. His hands were clumsy as he went to work on her clothes and he hated it. He wasn’t supposed to be afraid. It wasn’t right.
At least she had finally shut up. Jake still couldn’t believe that bitch had caused him this kind of trouble—haunting him. How could she haunt him? They’d grown up together…
A wild laugh escaped him as he cut away the soft pants that clung to Sandy’s body. The sight of the cloth falling away calmed him inside. He could focus again.
The shaking in his hands eased and the roaring in his ears faded away, letting him focus on her fear. As he ran one palm down her thigh, pleasure spiked inside him. This was better. So much better.
He liked how she looked in them. They clung to her ass and thighs, then loosened, draping around her lower legs. She had such a pretty ass. He wanted to untie her ankles and turn her over, stare at her soft white curves, but he couldn’t get careless right now. No—not now. Can’t cut her loose—she’d wake up soon. Sandy had passed out, scared to death after she had been here. Wouldn’t do for her to wake up and be half free.
Still, he slid his hands under her and cupped her ass, molding the soft, firm curves. Sandy moaned and Jake felt the anticipation roll through him. Blood pulsed hot and heavy through him, pooling in his groin. His penis felt thick and hard. Pushing up on his knees once more, he used his knife to cut away her panties.
Her lashes started to flutter open just as he reached for the button of his khakis. Lowering the zipper, he smiled at her, knowing that would be the first thing she saw.
“Jake…?”
He smiled. They were always confused at first. “Hi, Sandy.” Covering her body with his, he kissed her.
She struggled to turn her head. “Jake—what are you doing?”
Fear started to crawl into her voice and he could see it when she started to remember. Her body tensed as she struggled, but the ropes only had so much give. He tied them so that she could move just enough, so that he could spread her thighs wide if he wanted. He usually preferred to keep their legs together when he mounted them. It was tighter that way. And he could feel them struggle better.
He donned a rubber before he covered her body with his. Ducking his head, he whispered into her ear, “Scream for me, Sandy.”
A sob escaped her. “Damn it, Jake, what in the hell are you doing?”
Daisy stared at the car with a heavy heart.
It was Jake’s work truck. It was parked in front of the cabin and judging from the worn path, Jake came out here on a fairly regular basis. She didn’t want to think about what he did out here.
The windows were covered with thick wooden shutters, but she could see light seeping under them. A perfect place for a crime—they were far away from the nearest neighbor. Sound would carry on the water, but his cabin was far enough back from the lake that it would dampen the sound. Far enough back that it wouldn’t be seen. The shutters would silence even more sound.
“You bastard,” she whispered, starting to move past Michael.
He caught her arm, trying to push her behind him. That was when she saw the gun. Narrowing her eyes, she whispered, “I really hope you have a license for that.”
Michael just cocked a brow at her.
Of course he had a license. He was a fucking FBI agent. So what if he didn’t exactly look like one. Daisy hissed out a breath. Still, this wasn’t his job. It was hers. The women Jake had killed, they were hers. He started forward and she grabbed his arm, jerking on him. His eyes met hers and she shook her head furiously.
He glared at her.
Daisy just glared back and then she shoved in front of him, drawing her gun and holding it in a loose grip by her thigh. She heard him sigh behind her and she grinned. Nice to be the one frustrating somebody for a change.
She could hear voices now, muffled, too indistinct to really make out. The walls were soundproofed or something. Daisy ought to be able to hear him better than this. Done to keep anybody from hearing the screams. Damn it. They were on a slippery slope here and she knew it. Jake had a woman in there, one he was planning to kill and Daisy had absolutely no legal reason for being out there.
Somehow, she didn’t think it would fly if she explained to a judge and jury that the reason she arrested Jake was because a psychic had told her that Jake was a killer. Going on the word of a psychic who worked for the FBI might sound cool, but it wouldn’t hold up in court. Hell, it wasn’t enough for a search warrant.
She’d had a vague plan, finding some kind of evidence to implicate him, plant it if she had to, something, anything, whatever it took to stop him.
Instead, she had a killer on her hands, no reason for being here, and hell, yes, she could arrest him, but other than assault—all those thoughts cluttered her mind as she drew closer to the front door.
Get her out of there now—details later…
Just barely she could hear a soft male laugh. A woman’s terrified cry. “…what in the hell are you doing…”
She stepped back but before she could even look at him, Michael had guessed what she wanted. He busted the solid wooden door down with one swift kick and stepped inside. Daisy followed, her gun focused on Jake’s head. “Yeah, Jake,” she said flatly. “What in the hell are you doing?”
He lay sprawled atop Sandy’s pinned body, his khakis shoved low, the rest of him clothed. He rolled away from her, jerking his pants up, and Daisy saw him grab the gun on the table by the cot.
“Put it down, Jake.”
He laughed as he crouched on the floor behind the cot, keeping Sandy’s pinned, terrified body between them. “Hello, Daisy.” Something black and ugly filled his eyes as he looked at Michael. “I don’t think I will put it down. You need to put yours down, though. Otherwise…”
Nausea churned in her gut as Jake lowered his head and pressed his lips to Sandy’s brow. Then he replaced his lips with the gun’s muzzle. The cold, matte black metal pressed into soft white flesh and Daisy could see Sandy’s flesh give way as Jake dug in. “You put your gun down, Daisy. Otherwise…she won’t leave here alive.”
Daisy shook her head. “You’re talking to another cop here, Jake.”
Jake barked out a laugh. “A cop? Hell, I’m a second rate deputy in a second rate town, playing Barney to your Andy. Stuck here in Mayberry, practically. I don’t see myself as the next shoo-in for Law & Order.”
He cocked his head, trailing the fingers of his other hand along Sandy’s body. She whimpered, cringing away from his touch, turning her head and staring at Daisy with wide, terrified eyes. “Now, put the gun down—both of you.”
A soft chuckle drifted through the room.
Daisy shivered at the sound. That wasn’t Michael—and by the look on Jake’s face, it wasn
’t him either. It was soft, feminine and scary as hell. When the voice came, it took everything she had in her to keep from dropping the gun and flinging herself at Michael in terror.
“Guns…why are you so worried about guns? That’s not what killed me.”
Jake shoved away from the cot, staring around the cabin. His eyes were wide, almost black in his suddenly pale face. “Go away.”
“I will. When I know you’re burning in hell.”
An unseen wind started to whip through the room, tearing at Daisy’s clothes. She squinted her eyes against it, watching Jake. She ducked to the floor as he started to wave his gun around through the air. From the corner of her eye, she could see Michael doing the same.
“Tanya, don’t scare him so bad that he starts shooting at thin air,” Michael said.
With a desperate laugh, Daisy echoed, “Please, Tanya.” Now, I’m talking to a dead woman… “I’d rather get her out of here in one piece, and me as well. And I’d like to make sure he can’t do this to anybody else.”
A soft sound echoed around them. Like a sigh. “Don’t worry. He won’t. He won’t hurt anybody. Ever.”
“Make her go away!” Jake screeched, turning his head to stare at them with wild eyes. He grabbed Sandy, fisting his hand in her hair.
He pressed the gun to her cheek, hard. “Make her go away or I’ll kill this bitch and give her company.”
Daisy stood slowly, shaking her head. “Don’t do that, Jake. Come on—leave Sandy alone. This isn’t her fault.”
“No. It’s her fault.” He glanced up at the ceiling again. Unable to keep from looking, Daisy followed the path his eyes took. And there she saw her. A pale white figure just hovering there.
The wind blew faster and harder. It got colder. And the colder it got, the clearer that figure became. “My fault. My fault—you bastard…” Tanya started to laugh. She moved closer, a mean smile on her mouth. “You’re the one afraid now, aren’t you?”
Talking with the Dead Page 9
