"Allison.” Kat used her motherly tone.
"Yeah?"
"You know I'm always here for you."
"I know, Kat. I just have to work it out in my head first. Figure out what to do next."
"Analytical, just like your brother.” Kat's joyful laughter lightened the worry for a while.
The warm bath and hot cocoa didn't help Allison's nerves later on. She'd tried to calm down, but fury bubbled inside her. Anger at this killer who'd turned her life into some horror movie, anger at herself for not being strong enough to block the connection, and unbelievable disappointment for her inability to subdue thoughts or uncontrollable urges for an arrogant Fed who turned her inside out every time he came near. “Destiny had better know what she's doing."
Allison grimaced. Because right now, she couldn't fathom what impossible plan fate had in store for her and Jake Austin.
She couldn't contain her restlessness, so Allison decided to take some action on her own. Remembering a time when her grandfather felt both she and Nick should understand the workings of a weapon, Allison went into the study to unlock the gun cabinet. She pulled out a thirty-two caliber handgun and rummaged around in the drawers for ammunition.
Daylight would be fading soon, but with loaded weapon in hand, Allison ventured out back to the small secluded cove behind the house. She stopped long enough to snag some aluminum cans from the recycle bin.
Perched on a log down by the water, three cans glittered in the diminishing sunlight. Allison counted off twenty-five paces and turned, squaring off in the direction of the log. “Okay, now what was it Grandpa used to tell me? Extend the right arm.” She drew her arm up. The gun felt heavy in her hand, but she leveled it in front of her body. “Keep elbow slightly bent, put left hand on butt of gun to securely hold the weapon, line the target in the front site, and gently squeeze the trigger."
The gun exploded. A piece of wood flew into the air. Allison frowned. It had been several years since she'd brandished a gun for target practice. Again, she followed the remembered procedures. This time when she fired, she heard a clink ricochet from one of the cans, but it only wiggled. While preparing to take another shot, a booming voice roused her concentration.
"What in bloody hell are you doing?"
Allison twisted around to see Jake Austin storming toward her re-holstering his weapon.
"I'm practicing,” she replied in a clipped tone, then faced the target again.
Jake reached her just as she fired another round and she fell back against a wall of rock solid flesh. Muscular arms circled her and grabbed the gun. “Give me that before you hurt someone."
"Austin?” A call came out from the direction of the house where Officer Logan had followed him in to find out where the gunshots were coming from. “It's under control, Logan. Stand down,” Jake yelled back.
Jake turned on Allison, expelling the magazine from the thirty-two. “Have you lost your mind?"
"I don't think so. It seemed a reasonable precaution."
"This is never a solution.” Jake shoved the gun in his belt after locking the safety. A cool breeze erupted and she shivered. Jake took off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.
The warmth of his jacket soothed her. It carried his scent. She glanced toward the tree line and suddenly went still. Although she didn't see him, she knew the killer stood there, watching.
At the house, Logan waited for instructions. “Go on back to the station. On your way, tell Murphy to keep his eyes and ears open."
"Yes, sir."
She settled in a chair while Jake efficiently moved around the kitchen collecting all the necessary ingredients for some hot tea. The mere presence of him made the room smaller. Allison fought the fog that threatened to take over her brain. She needed to be clear thinking whenever Jake Austin was anywhere near her.
He set the tea down on the table. When she reached for it, their fingers brushed. “You're close to him."
"Who?"
"The killer."
Disbelief still reigned supreme but Jake couldn't discount the fact that her eyes were glazed over and her voice an unusual monotone.
"Why do you say that?"
"I don't know, but he watches you closely."
"Of course he does,” Jake said cautiously. “We've been at this game for a long time."
"No. It's more. It's not a game. It's personal."
Jake's heart raced. “Allison.” He fanned his hand in front of her face. Slowly, her eyes returned to normal.
"What happened?"
"You were like in a trance or something."
"A trance? Did I say anything?"
"Nothing that made sense.” He couldn't tell her how close to the truth she'd been.
"I'm tired.” She rose. “I'm going to bed."
"Okay."
As she passed him she said, “Why did you come here anyway?"
"It'll wait."
"Fine."
"Are you sure you're going to be okay?"
"Yes,” she replied absently as she ascended the staircase. “Goodnight."
"Goodnight.” He fought an inner battle between leaving her alone or staying to make sure nothing happened during the night. Based on his interaction with her so far, common sense told him to go, but he couldn't leave.
Jake informed the surveillance team he'd be staying, then secured the house. He'd crash on the couch and be gone in the morning before she woke up. She'd never know.
[Back to Table of Contents]
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Allison woke to a beautiful summer morning. Outside she heard birds chirping and the trees swaying with a soft wind. She stretched from head to toe and rolled over to watch a few leaves whipped from the branches play chase across the sky. She hadn't felt this rested in a long time. She hadn't dreamed at all through the night, which was uncharacteristic lately. A few times in her subconscious there had been a feeling that someone watched her throughout the night, but not a foreboding.
"Yanni,” she called but didn't get a response. “Humph. Just like her. Always around when you don't want her, and never around when you do.” Typical, Allison mused, as she sprung out of bed. “I'm famished. I think I'll make waffles."
Feeling light on her feet and a little too giddy, Allison went downstairs. She was about to go into the kitchen when she noticed a body lying on the sofa. Cautiously, she tiptoed into the living room. Jake Austin lay sprawled on his back with one arm hanging off the furniture.
"What are you doing here?"
Jake opened one eye, testing the brightness before gradually opening the other. He groaned. “What time is it?” he asked as he uncurled and rose.
"Seven o'clock."
"Seven? Christ. I didn't mean to sleep this late.” That's unusual. He never slept while on surveillance unless it was in half hour increments. Jake had checked on Allison several times throughout the night. After the last time, he lay down and didn't get up again.
"You stayed?"
"You weren't in good shape last night. I didn't think it wise for you to be alone, so I stayed."
"Do you want some breakfast?"
"Breakfast?"
"Yeah, the first meal of the day, something you do every morning."
"Not everyone."
"So you don't want anything to eat?"
"I didn't say that."
Cheerfully she said, “I'm making waffles. Do you like waffles?"
"Haven't had them in a long time, but I could eat."
Allison turned and went into the kitchen. Jake checked the front door and saw the surveillance team a short distance away. A heavenly aroma wafted from the other room and he could hear the television. She had the news on.
Adorable was the word to describe how Allison looked as she poured batter into the waffle iron. The pajama pants were too long and the shirt, if you could call it that, had skimpy straps and clung to her torso. He wondered if the soft material would crinkle if he touched it. “Can I help?"
"You can get the orange juice and some glasses."
"Okay."
"The coffee's brewing."
"You actually drink coffee? I've only ever seen you drink tea."
"I've been known to take the caffeine plunge.” She chuckled.
"Thank God."
It surprised her that she could fall into this calm so easily and with Jake, a comfortable bantering in the kitchen.
Jake put glasses of juice on the island and stretched before sitting down on one of the barstools. She got the syrup out of the pantry, grabbed the butter from the refrigerator, and snatched the forks off the counter before seating herself. “Dig in."
To his amazement, Jake finished four waffles before begging off. “I need to get to the Trawler and shower before I go to the station. It wouldn't do for me to show up in the same clothes I left in."
"I'm sure it's something that's happened before."
"Yes, but Peter has been vocal about my appearance of late."
Her right brow lifted.
"To the bureau, appearance is part of the package."
"Package?"
"Yes. The Federal Bureau of Investigation represents a lot, just with its name. We're to wear suits, be clean-shaven, with a trim haircut.” He fanned his hands down his body. “Needless to say, I haven't fit that image lately."
Allison shifted and put her chin on her knuckles as if examining a new dress. “I like this image. It looks good on you."
Her comment surprised him, made him feel kind of warm inside. Don't get mushy, Austin. “I better go. Will you be okay?"
"Sure. It's not like I'm really alone anyway,” she laughed as she walked him to the door. “My guard dogs are never far behind."
She watched Jake stop briefly and say something to the officers. After cleaning up the mess she made for breakfast, Allison went to the den where she found the gun laying on top of her grandfather's desk. Smiling, she replaced the gun in the cabinet and locked it. The magazine was nowhere to be found.
* * * *
Allison rolled up the sleeves on her New England Patriots shirt and continued to arrange the mannequins, drape material, and set lighting. This display was companion to the school display in the north window. It showcased a variety of popular back-to-school styles. More than ready to go home, Allison threw the switch on the junction box.
The cool night air felt good. Fall rapidly approached and she welcomed it. Allison loved the fall colors, both to wear and work with.
She locked the door to the store and quickly walked out to the parking lot. The black and white police car with its red and blue topping had become a familiar and comforting sight. As she passed, she noticed the City's emblem on the side and wondered what kind of law officers they had had in 1873.
A cold chill crept up her spine, a drastic difference from just a moment before when she had felt overheated. Allison turned around and stared into the dark night, but saw nothing. “You're just tired."
Across the street and down the landscape, a tall figure loomed in the darkness. The Surgeon studied her as she scanned the area in his direction. Her flushed face and spiked hair from where she'd run her fingers while deciding positions for her display pieces, called to him like a siren. He liked her hair pulled back. He imagined running his tongue over the small scar on her left earlobe. His fingers itched to caress the star-shaped birthmark on her right hip. A fierce urge to explore all her secret places pulled at his control, but he resisted. “Not yet.” He smiled. “She's special.” Allison Brody made an interesting piece for his game.
The night sky rumbled with an approaching storm. He pulled the collar of his jacket up around his neck and strolled down the sidewalk humming.
* * * *
Allison dropped into bed and fell instantly asleep. Not long after, on that REM sleep plane where dreams occur, Allison stood alone in total darkness. She didn't dare call out, afraid of what would happen. A lonesome tune floated all around her. She sashayed around, lost in the melody. One, two three, one, two, three.
Out of nowhere came a wall completely covered with mirrors. In the reflection, she wore a silky gown the color of jade. Her hair hung in long waves over her shoulders and tumbled carelessly down her back, a style she hadn't worn since her teens. The music changed, and, in the blink of an eye, a tall man put a strong arm about her waist and waltzed her across the hardwood floor. His tie and handkerchief matched the color of her dress and his scent was that of a fine man's cologne. Allison recognized it because they sold it at R&N's. With a sturdy grip, the stranger led her in circles around the room. His shadowed face left him a mystery, but his smile held a certain virulent promise.
Panic set in.
She pushed against him trying to break away. “Let me go. Let me go."
"You can't run away, Allison. Our game has just begun."
Allison thrashed in her bed, kicking at covers and grabbing at air. In the dream, he now stood behind her, his hand encircling her wrists and his lips roughly kissing her neck. “We'll meet again, my beauty."
Alone with nothing but a black rose in her hand, Allison desperately tried to claw her way back through the fogginess. Her movements sluggish, she struggled to steady her breathing and regain her senses.
Stumbling through the dark to the bathroom as if she had pulled an all-nighter, Allison fumbled with the light switch. Her pale reflection stared back. Dark circles were under her eyes and a sweaty mass of hair clung to her face. Twisting the faucet to get a rush of cold water, she cupped her hands, hung her head low and splashed her face several times. He'd gotten into her head again.
On the way back to the bedroom, an intense pain shot through her skull. Reaching out she tried grasping the small table before her eyes rolled back and she plummeted to the floor.
* * * *
Jake had crested the hill on his morning run when his cell phone rang. “Austin."
"Nice to see you still take time for exercise, if nothing else."
"Hey, Detective. How do you know I'm exercising?"
"I'm a detective. I'm paid to know these things."
"Uh, huh.” Jake chuckled. “So you went by the Trawler and I wasn't there."
"The clerk told me you went out for your morning run. Don't you ever sleep?"
"Do you?” Jake laughed as he stopped to catch his breath. “So what's up?"
"I got a call from Logan."
"And?"
"Martha, that's Allison Brody's sometime housekeeper, arrived at the house first thing this morning. A few minutes later she rushed out to the surveillance team because she'd found Allison passed out on the floor."
Jake immediately tensed. “Is she okay? Did they call an ambulance? What happened?"
"No one knows, but they found a rose on the bed next to her pillow."
"What?” Jake all but roared into the phone. “How did it get there? What were your men doing? Sleeping?"
Lancaster provided him with the necessary information. “I thought you might want to accompany me when I go to the house."
"I'll be there in five minutes."
Before the other man could respond, Jake hung up and took off at a fast run. As he got back to The Stern Trawler, Peter and Margo were walking up to the door.
"There's been a development."
"I just got off the phone with Lancaster. I'll change."
When Jake ran up the stairs, Margo turned to Peter. “He looked awful tense for someone who just got done jogging. Don't you think?"
Peter didn't respond, but the look he gave her spoke volumes. “Call Lancaster and tell him that we'll bring Jake."
* * * *
Upon arrival, Peter noticed the police officers on scene kept their distance. Jake barely glanced at them. He made a beeline to Lancaster who was speaking with one of the paramedics. “How is she?"
"She'll be fine. She needs to rest."
Jake paused for a moment in the doorway of the parlor. Allison looked like an angel dressed in a royal blue gown and sheer white robe tha
t flowed to the floor. Her dark hair fell down around her and today her exquisite eyes glistened with tears.
He moved on stiff limbs toward the divan where he knelt down in front of her. “Are you all right?"
"No,” she whispered, but kept her eyes averted.
"Look at me, Allison. Look at me.” The soft tone of the command did not make it less forceful.
Strands of hair had fallen around her face, hiding her eyes. He touched her silky hair, letting it rifle through his fingers before tucking it behind her ear. Brushing her cheek with his fingertips, Jake searched her features in an attempt to penetrate her walls.
Clamping his jaw, he sat back on his heels and tried to distance himself. Every instinct told him to give her space, but he had to know what had happened. “Did he hurt you?"
"I'm fine, Agent Austin."
He frowned. “Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Put the title between us."
"Did I?"
"What are you doing?” He squeezed the bridge between his eyes.
"I'm going crazy."
"No. He's pushing."
"You're pushing."
"Allison, this will not get us any closer to what we're after."
"And what would that be?"
"A cold-blooded killer, who wouldn't think twice about finishing you off and moving on to the next victim."
Allison flinched at the truth. The look on her face turned icy and warned Jake that the barrier had been erected. “Thank you for relating the brutal facts of the situation. I think I'll be fine now.” She rose and walked toward one of the officers.
Inwardly, he berated his careless, insensitive outburst. Jake fought the temptation to apologize, because he knew it would do no good.
When he stood, Peter Carmichael moved to his side. “What did she tell you?"
"Nothing."
Peter watched Allison speak with Detective Lancaster. “Any theories on what's going on?"
"None."
"Is she going to give you any information?"
"I don't know.” He cast another glance at Allison then said, “We need to conduct a search. My bet is he's been watching her inside this house."
Together in Darkness Page 13
