Together in Darkness

by Sloan McBride

  Paul Kincaid stepped up. “Yeah, Austin. You really don't need to stay."

  The tension and anger rolled off him. Right now, Jake thought only of Allison. “I'm not going anywhere, Kincaid.” He tried not to be hostile, but Dr. Kincaid rubbed him the wrong way.

  The whir of the chopper blades was heard before the helicopter came into sight. Jake held the brim of his ball cap so it wouldn't fly away. The pounding of his heart matched the speed of the propellers. No chance in hell he'd be able to get control until he saw Allison and knew she would be all right.

  He stood just this side of the pilot as they unloaded the stretcher. Her long hair tangled against the pillow and her skin was still as pale as when she'd collapsed. She'd been wrapped tightly in blankets then strapped in for the trip. If he could, he would have rolled back the hands of time, ignored his duty and stayed with her in the house away from all the madness. He blamed himself. It was another failure to add to the long list.

  Jake watched from the hallway at the hospital as the nurses hooked Allison to monitor her vitals. She still had a fever. Although intubated to protect her airway, a ventilator wasn't needed. Paul Kincaid spoke with Dr. Markovich about the treatment Allison would require and different scenarios based on her progress. Jake heard the words but couldn't make himself listen. The thought of Allison never waking up made him sick. He strode away from her door and once in the elevator he contacted Peter Carmichael.

  * * * *

  "How's she doing?” Bill Lancaster asked Jake when he came into the station.

  "She's still the same.” He walked over to Margo. “How are things going here?"

  "We've done a lot but it would certainly help if we had anything on his background, or a description of him, or something to work with."

  "Yeah.” Jake ran both hands through his hair. He hadn't missed the censored glances that Peter threw at him, nor the way Ginny distracted Peter when she could. Their concern was warranted.

  His belt vibrated. “Austin."

  "What the hell happened?"

  Jake used his peripheral vision to see if anyone in the room was listening. “Hang on.” He walked out and closed the door behind him. “He got to her, Linc."

  "How?"

  "Good question."

  "So what is Peter doing?"

  "The usual.” Jake sighed more in frustration than fatigue. “I am considering whether I should give up this quest and just tell them. I can give the team solid information that could help with the investigation.” He paced the hallway. “Maybe if I'd done that in the beginning, it would have saved some lives."

  "You don't know that for sure, Jake."

  "There's no way to know one way or the other, but I still lean towards thinking that it would have been the right thing to do."

  "That's neither here nor there anymore. What you need to determine is how to proceed. What have the doctors said about Allison Brody's condition?"

  "Kincaid is there hovering."

  The jealousy and anger must have been evident in his tone because Linc said, “And you didn't strangle him?"

  "Believe me it took everything I had to keep my hands off him."

  "Don't do it, Jake. You're in enough hot water the way it is. Kincaid isn't worth it."

  "But Allison is."

  "Only you can be the judge of that. Keep me posted."

  "Okay. By the way, how did you find out about what happened?"

  "That luscious, brainy and beautiful Margo told me."

  "Really."

  "I love those nerdy computer types."

  Jake laughed. “That's because you are one."

  "Exactly."

  Jake stuck his head back in the room. “I'm heading out to check on something. I'll be in touch."

  Lancaster yelled, “Do you need any help?"

  "Not for this.” He definitely didn't want any company on his trip to Salem, Massachusetts, where he hoped to find out more about psychic links.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  Cold, dreary. She couldn't see where she was and it felt as though she were strapped to a table. No light seeped through any crevice, no warmth from any source. Where could she be and how did she get here? “Mystical,” Allison breathed.

  "It is that and much more, Allison."

  She jumped, startled at his presence. She hadn't felt him there. “Are you going to let me go?"

  "Eventually, maybe."

  "When it suits your purpose? When your game is stalled?"

  He laughed and laid his warm hand over her right breast. She gasped. “You are more beautiful now than when you were young."

  Allison had almost forgotten who she'd been baiting. “So it is you?"

  "Anything's possible."

  His vagueness confused her. If it were Alex, the boy from her dreams, why would he not tell her?

  "Because it amuses me to keep you wondering."

  "What happened?” she whispered.

  "Many things, not all of them pleasant. You left. One day you were there, the next you were gone.” He pinched her nipple. She whimpered but didn't cry out.

  "Things happened to me, too."

  "I suspected as much. Found you a new boyfriend, a lover?” His voice grew angry.

  "No."

  "It doesn't matter anymore. We're here now."

  "Yes, here in the darkness."

  "I like it dark. I thrive in the dark."

  Silence. He was gone.

  Allison shivered despite herself. She wished for some light, but in vain.

  'Reach deep inside and pull forth the knowledge of the generations. With it come abilities far greater than you can imagine.'

  "Yanni? Are you there?"

  No answer.

  "The knowledge of generations. What does that mean?” She closed her eyes and let her mind wander. She saw Jake with worry etched on his face as he watched her lay in the hospital bed. He massaged his neck muscles and ran fingers through mussed up hair. Jake.

  "When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance."

  Allison flinched at the whispered words. He was back. The eerie voice surrounded her in the darkness. Hot breath singed her skin.

  "And when I feel, fair creature of an hour! That I shall never look upon thee more, Never have relish in the faery power of unreflecting love."

  "Where are you?” Allison said, a little breathless.

  "I'm everywhere and nowhere."

  "How can that be? You're not a God."

  He chuckled. “Perhaps the Devil?"

  "Perhaps a man,” Allison challenged.

  "But what is a rose by any other name?"

  "A learned man, no doubt. But I wonder."

  "Wonder away, fair maiden."

  "What brings an intelligent man to this point in his life?” Allison knew she was tempting fate, but she couldn't resist knowing. The more she knew about the darkness, the better her chances of escape.

  "Brave words, Allison. Should you not be fearful of me?"

  "I've had bad dreams before."

  A full bodied laugh filled the space around her, not an unpleasant sound to be truthful. It didn't send chills across her body. She sensed confusion, longing, a troubled soul.

  "Ahh, but this is not a dream, my sweet. For I have brought you to my domain. At this moment, the doctors are frantic to discover how it is exactly that you've gone comatose."

  He touched her hair and brushed his fingers across her cheek.

  "Even now, Austin is like a caged tiger brimming with the need to kill something ... me."

  "I don't believe that. Jake would never...."

  He grabbed her hair and wrenched. “Don't tell me what he would do. I've known him far longer."

  Allison fought back the tears as he released her. No weakness would she show this one. It would be her downfall. “What do you want with me?"

  With his mouth close to her ear he said, “Everything."

  That one whispe
red word shoved fear into her chest. Her breathing began a rapid pace. “Why don't you just do it and get it over with then?"

  "Because my way is more fun. Haven't you guessed?"

  "You like games."

  "You'll find I like a lot of things.” He ran his fingertip down the valley between her naked breasts, to her navel and beyond.

  She instinctively tried to pull her knees up to protect herself but the restraints prevented it.

  "Don't worry, Allison. I'm not done yet. Our journey is far from over."

  Allison knew he was gone. She didn't feel his presence any longer. Her mind worked frantically on what she could do to get out of this place. Trapped in her unconscious with a deranged killer and no way to communicate with anyone else, she closed her eyes and called out with her mind. Jake.

  * * * *

  Jake had been sitting in the chair next to her bed when her breathing became rapid and her pulse beat irregular. Her fingers tightened around his hand. Her temperature still fluctuated and the doctors were baffled. They could find no reason why Allison didn't awaken.

  In Salem, he spoke to a psychic named Lorelei. She explained as best she could the different kinds of psychic connections and how they were possible. She said it sounded as though a type of vampiric aura had been used to put and keep Allison in her current state. That is the ability to siphon strength from living things. Although Lorelei had been more than helpful and very kind in her explanations, Jake felt no closer to finding an answer on how to get Allison back.

  The monitor beeped and he sprang up. The small reflex of her system gave Jake hope. Allison was still with him, trapped in a place he couldn't reach. Jake swore he'd heard her call him. He rubbed his hands over his face, stood and stretched. His body definitely needed caffeine.

  Almost as if he'd read his mind, Zach Quincy strolled into the room with two cups of black coffee.

  "Are you a mind reader?"

  "Hell no. I just know how you operate. You've been here for two hours. You need that caffeine jolt to your system so you can go out and catch bad guys."

  Jake rolled his eyes upward and shook his head. “Am I that transparent?"

  "Nah, I'm just that good at reading people."

  Jake gave him that you're so full of shit stare. The coffee tasted good, too good.

  "So where is the persistent shrink today?"

  "He does have a practice and other patients. I'd imagine that is keeping him a little tied up."

  "Not for long, I'd wager."

  Jake frowned. “Probably not.” He paced the confines of the room. He lifted one hand and rubbed the nape of his neck where tension had gathered in the form of knots. Quincy assessed his behavior with doctor's eyes. It pissed him off sometimes how Zachariah Quincy could read him.

  "You going to keep stalking or tell me what the hell is really going on?"

  Jake stopped facing the window. Darkness crept up the walls with the fading sunlight. Inevitable. He detested that word but it became more apparent that the time would come for him to tell his team the truth. His job didn't matter any longer, only Allison mattered.

  At the police station, Lancaster huddled with Ginny Tobias, Peter Carmichael, and Margo Sullivan at the end of the table near the computer. When Jake came in they all looked up.

  "What happened?” He stopped dead, afraid to hear the answer.

  "These arrived a little while ago,” Ginny said.

  Jake slowly walked toward her to take the photographs she offered up. He scanned them, but remained calm.

  "You're not surprised."

  "Not really. He's done it before. I should have figured he'd go to the hospital to see Allison. It's another way to rub it in my face that he can get to her anytime he wants. Where was the officer on duty?"

  "He went over to help a nurse. Some drunk began harassing her and tried to get physical."

  "You're telling me he paid some drunk?” Lancaster said.

  "No, Bill. I'd say a timely happenstance which gave him the opportunity he'd been looking for."

  "I wish we had a more concrete description,” Margo sighed. “White male, between the ages of twenty five and thirty two, introvert, doesn't help us much. That could have been anyone of a number of people working at the hospital."

  "He wasn't there when I sat with her."

  Lancaster crossed his arms, one eyebrow cocked. “How do you know?"

  Jake shrugged. “I would have felt him."

  "You're sure of that?” Peter asked.

  "Very sure."

  "Detective, why don't you and Jake re-walk the last two murder scenes. See if you can pick up something."

  Lancaster nodded. “Okay."

  "Margo, scan in the photos and send them to headquarters. File a report with Caprizzi and see if Linc Anderson can assist you in turning up something at each of the murder sites where someone with our killer's vague description was seen in the vicinity with a camera. Tell Linc to get some others to go back to each scene and speak to neighbors again. And have him talk to the police officers at each scene, too."

  "I'm already on it."

  "Ginny, you and I will go back to the hospital. Take the photographs after Margo scans them and we'll try to determine where he was standing when he took the pictures. Then, we can question people who might have seen him there."

  "Where's Zach, Peter?"

  "I sent him back to the morgue. He and Dr. Hallowell are going over both bodies again, thoroughly."

  Lancaster chuckled. “I'm sure Steve told you he went over the bodies thoroughly the first time."

  "He did. Matter of fact, he became real vocal when Dr. Quincy suggested doing it again."

  Lancaster laughed. “I'll bet."

  In the car, they headed out. “Which location first, Jake?"

  "Let's go to the most recent. I haven't walked it yet. I'll get more vibes."

  "Vibes?"

  "Well, theory is that a house can hold energy signatures. Murder has a violent energy and it's very strong. Sometimes a good profiler can pick up on that energy. Maybe it will tell me something I didn't hear before."

  Lancaster shook his head. “Okay."

  The house hadn't been released yet, so crime tape still sealed off the perimeter. With the standard gloves on, Jake turned the doorknob and entered 1112 Mulberry Street. Immediately a strong coppery smell hit him, even though the blood had dried. The room, in dishevel as though a storm had blown through, surprised him.

  "It doesn't get any better,” the other man said.

  The cushions on the sofa were ripped to shreds, the pictures blown off the wall and hurtled across the room. Jake imagined the killer venting. To the right was the dining room and kitchen, to the left, the hallway and stairs to the second floor. He veered to the right slowly walking through the dining room, taking in everything. The china cabinet was shattered. Only one small sugar bowl remained intact. The kitchen looked as though dinner had just been finished, normal signs of a family sharing a meal. Beneath the spice rack a picture of Allison Brody had been tacked to the wall by a serrated kitchen knife pushed in all the way to the handle. “Subtle,” Jake mumbled.

  He passed through a door on the opposite side of the kitchen and went down a small hallway. The laundry room sat off to the right. The stairwell leading up to the bedrooms beckoned him. He'd put it off as long as he dared, so Jake slowly ascended the stairs with Bill Lancaster close behind. He ran his fingers along the banister. His skin tingled with awareness that The Surgeon had crept up the same staircase. Silent and deadly, like the predator he mimicked. At the top of the stairs, he didn't hesitate but went straight to the master bedroom at the end of the hallway.

  Pushing open the door, he moved into the room where scenes of that night flashed through his head, a strobe effect. The woman slept alone in the bed, her husband out of town on business. The adrenaline and anger elevated for the kill. Across the room from the bed is a television with static and snow because the network had gone off the air. He liked the soft w
hite light in the room. It gave him the ability to see her face when he took her last breath and her life.

  She must have sensed something because she opened her eyes and saw him standing there. She opened her mouth to scream, but the sound never escaped. The killer clamped his hands around her neck and straddled her body to better seal her fate. She bucked furiously to dislodge him, but his weight prevented it. Feverishly, she scraped fingernails across his face and tried jabbing his eyes. She'd obviously had some sort of training in personal protection, but she lost the battle when her windpipe crushed under the pressure of his grip.

  Fury coiled tight in his chest because he didn't get the last gasp of life from her. She died too quickly. That alone added fuel to the rage that had already heightened because of Allison's disappearance.

  Jake stumbled when he bumped into the side of the bed. Bill Lancaster grabbed his arm to keep him from falling onto the bloodstained bed. “You okay, Jake?"

  Jake blinked for a moment to orient himself. “Yeah.” He stared at the bed and the bloodied wall where the lyrical message had been written. Liar, Liar, Liar. It was an old song he knew only too well.

  The room reeked of hate, a feeling so intense that it threatened to clutch onto Jake and drag him deep into a pit. “Unleashed rage happened this night. This murder was for me. He wanted something and I took it. Another innocent woman died to give me a warning."

  "A warning?"

  "That if he doesn't get Allison back, more will die just as savagely."

  "Then why did he do whatever it was that he did to Ms. Brody?"

  "Because I ignored the message and told him to fuck off."

  "Do you know him well enough to venture a guess as to what will happen next?"

  "I thought I did at one time, Detective. But now it's anyone's guess. Coming to Gloucester has changed everything."

  * * * *

  He'd run out of ideas. There had been no contact from the UNSUB since the safe house and he didn't know how much longer he could stand watching Allison lie in the bed and not lose his mind. With his right hand, he ran fingers through his hair while his left hand rubbed his knotted neck. His lids, suddenly heavy, drifted closed. Allison? Where are you?

  He felt so helpless.