Sadie Hart

by Cry Sanctuary

  She didn’t answer, but Dean really didn’t care. Instead he whistled softly and stepped towards the door.

  “Don’t,” the woman said, voice soft. “Yes, I’m her grandmother.”

  The words came fast, almost panicked-sounding, and he stopped to tilt his head. Taking in the woman, dressed in yoga pants and an old t-shirt. Slippers on her feet. She fit the cheerful blue kitchen that surrounded her, all the way down to the bowl of fruit sitting on the counter and the apple cinnamon fragrance that puffed out of an air freshener.

  Dean leaned towards her slightly, letting her see the cool edge to his smile. How much he was enjoying this. “Don’t what?”

  “What do you want?”

  “No.” He shook his head and waited. “I asked you first.”

  “She’s just a dog.” The fear in her voice didn’t surprise him. If anything it excited him more than her words did. He laughed at that.

  “I like dogs.” He noosed the leash and opened the door. The collie lunged in, fangs bared, and he slipped it on her and stepped out of the way, drawing her up short. Moving one hand fast down the leash, he pinned his fingers against the slip knot, drawing a sharp, strangled gasp from the dog.

  She thrashed, but he held her easily. Waiting. “This,” he told the grandmother, “is never fun. But sometimes you just have to show an animal you’re bigger than them. Tougher.”

  Locking his legs on either side of her furry body he waited while the collie’s breaths came shorter, faster. She thrashed one last time, nails skidding over the tile, and then the lack of oxygen made her go limp. He gave her shoulder a gentle pat and loosened up on the leash. “See? Lesson learned. She’s submissive now.”

  The old woman turned away, a tear streaking down her cheek, and Dean couldn’t help but laugh. “She’s fine.”

  “You’re a monster.”

  “Ah-ah.” He waggled his finger at Holly’s grandmother, a soft smirk on his face. “No more a monster than you. After all, your granddaughter had to get her animal side from someone.”

  His nostrils widened as he inhaled.

  “Smells like she got it from you.”

  He stroked a hand through the collie’s hair, drawing a soft growl from the dog, and he tightened the leash. She stiffened, then relaxed. “Good girl,” he crooned softly before leading her over to Holly’s grandmother. “I’m going to snap her leash onto yours; that way neither of you gets lonely.”

  Once the collie was secured he let Bosley inside and dug his notebook out of his jacket. He knew exactly what he wanted to tell her, so the words came nice and easy. Ripping it cleanly off the pad he thumped it down in the center of the table and turned to stare at the frightened old woman, then the collie lying at her feet. Star’s ears flicked back against her head, a low grumble leaking from her, but she kept her head low. Eyes averted. She didn’t want to risk another tango.

  “Good girl,” he reminded her, and the grandmother shuddered.

  Dean leaned over and patted the woman’s cheek, ignoring the rise in the dog’s growl. “Tell Holly I said hi. It was fun. We’ll have to do this again. But first,” he withdrew a long piece of fabric from his jeans pocket and grinned up at her. Using one hand to force her mouth open, he forced the gag into her mouth, then tied it neatly behind her head. He winked. “Just to keep you quiet.”

  With a merry laugh, he whistled for Bosley and let himself out. He paused, wishing he could lock the door for them. After all, there were a lot of crazy people in this world. The last thing she needed was a killer walking in on her all trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

  A low laugh simmered in his gut and Dean let it out, snickering all the way back to his car.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The moment Caine turned onto Sanctuary Road the tension slammed back into his shoulders, leaving him in knots. Guilt, frustration, anger; they all swarmed in him. He should have been there to save her. To save Claire. Instead, two of his wolves had died, and he didn’t think for a second this asshole was through messing with them.

  No. The Hunter had made this personal. He’d targeted Caine’s pack. He’d be back, and Caine would make sure he was waiting for him next time. Turning up his sloping drive, he spotted Trey on the front porch, long arms hung over his knees as he sat waiting, feet braced on the steps. His wavy hair curled over his face, hiding his eyes in shadows, but the hunch of his shoulders signaled defeat. Sorrow.

  There’d been news vans buzzing around the murder site like flies all day, so it made sense his pack would already know. Including Lydia’s family. His fist hit the steering wheel. Fuck. They hadn’t deserved to hear it like that. They hadn’t deserved this at all. Killing the engine, Caine slipped out and met his second’s eyes. “You saw the news?”

  Trey looked away. “Heard it, yeah. He got another one, Caine. Two this time.”

  Caine staggered to a stop, the world around him tilting, spinning. Trees nothing but hazy blurs around, up, greens, browns, blacks all blending together. “What?”

  “Up the road, the Carson house. Danielle was out in the yard playing with her four-year-old daughter.”

  Elizabeth. Beautiful big blue eyes. A face like an angel, a voice that reminded him of a winter howl. He’d been there when that little girl was born.

  “By the time we realized they were gone—” Trey shook his head.

  “Both of them?” His second barely tipped his head in a nod. Caine’s heart couldn’t stop the constant slam in his chest, the roil of guilt so thick it made him want to vomit. Or scream. When he caught this son of a bitch that man would beg to die. “Does Luke know?”

  Trey leaned back, bracing his elbows against the top step as he took a deep, shuddering breath. Eye closed he nodded. “He was in the house. They’d been outside five minutes. He’d been on his way out to join them with Janey.”

  Their older daughter. “What about the other two?”

  “At a friend’s.” Trey grimaced. “Thankfully.”

  Caine shoved his hands through his hair, fighting the urge to howl. To shift. Christ, how had he let this happen? “I thought we had patrols!”

  “We did. Raj caught sight of a black car driving away; he was on the phone with me while running to get the license plate when Luke howled. I didn’t even need to be there, I knew that son of a bitch had gotten someone.” He shoved a hand through his hair, eyes wide as he met his alpha’s. “I’m sorry, man. The amount of time it took him to do everything was five minutes tops, and that’s pushing it.”

  He’d gotten lucky.

  Caine reached over and caught Trey by the shoulder, giving his second a reassuring squeeze. “You did what you were supposed to do.”

  “Yeah. Watch the damn pack. See how well that worked out?”

  Not that Caine was faring much better, but he didn’t say it. They didn’t have time to sit around and lick their wounds, mourn loved ones. According to Ollie, there was a chance the Hunter was sticking to his timetable. A chance that they still had a few days to catch this man. “Did Raj get that license plate?”

  “Only a partial.”

  “Good enough for me. Call him up here.” Caine headed down the drive, fast, heels kicking up dirt.

  “Where you going?”

  “To get a look at the Carson place. I want to know if this bastard was there waiting, or if he just plain got lucky.”

  Mostly because Caine wasn’t sure he believed in luck. Like coincidence, it just seemed too good to be true. No. He was betting the Hunter had been camped somewhere along the road, hiding like a wolf in the grass. Waiting. Hunting.

  After all, it was what he did best.

  ***

  Ollie groaned as she slid out of the car. “I am starved. I hope Nana has dinner ready, because I’m about to eat the car.”

  Slamming the door shut, she leaned against it, watching as her brother slid out of the driver’s seat. For a man on vacation he was doing an awful lot of work. “Please tell me this isn’t all pro bono.”

 
Brandt laughed. “Nah. Took some finagling, but I’m getting paid for the work I’m doing here. Though at this rate I’m not going to have a job left when I get back home. Rumor has it my replacement is working out well.”

  “They’ll welcome you back.”

  “They’d better.” Shutting the door, he headed up the lawn towards the front door, Ollie on his heels. The sun was already beginning to set, autumn finally getting its grip on the days, turning them shorter, the nights longer, colder.

  Shivering against the evening chill, Ollie bustled inside, leaving Brandt to close the door. She paused in the living room, noticing the odd quiet. No Star romping to the front door, no happy barks. The TV wasn’t even on, and Nana loved her soaps.

  Brandt had been about to flop down on the couch when she held out a hand while reaching for her gun with the other, he froze. She watched his attention shift to the empty dog bed.

  Ollie’s stomach twisted. Star hadn’t been outside when they’d pulled up or she’d have come running to greet them. The silence in the house left her raw. Ollie slid her gaze over the archway between the living and dining room. The large, black dining table spanned the length of the room. All the chairs were still in place.

  No mail. Nana always got it, sorting through the junk and leaving the important stuff on the table. Might mean there was just no mail for the day. Might mean something else. The floorboard creaked under her weight as Ollie took another step, and Star whined, a quiet, pitiful sound. The kitchen? Easing forward, keeping herself light on her feet, Ollie moved through the dining room, pressing tight against the wall, gun lifted and pointed at the ceiling.

  Her gaze shifted to the open arch that led into the kitchen. At her signal, Brandt paused against the wall between the living room and her, his eyes on the kitchen. She knew he’d have her back.

  With another nod to her brother, they moved towards the kitchen. No tempting dinner aromas, definitely not the BBQ pork roast Nana had been teasing them about last night. Something had happened, the eerie silence, the vague sense of wrongness, Star’s whine, it all added up. Ollie moved towards the kitchen. The lights were on, and Ollie edged around the arch, gun raised, Brandt at her back. She saw Nana then, tied to one of the kitchen chairs, Star leashed at her side. She was gagged. Ollie bit back a cry, using every ounce of her self-control to focus on securing the room before she raced over to help her grandmother.

  A familiar citrus and gunpowder scent hit her nose. He’d been here. In her house. He’d tied up her grandmother. If he’d hurt her— Ollie forced herself to break that train of thought. She couldn’t go there. Not now.

  Ollie moved into the kitchen, gun raised, with Brandt at her back. It took the two of them less than a second to scan the room and make sure it was safe. She hurried for Nana as Brandt moved towards the back door.

  With shaky hands, Ollie holstered her gun and then undid the gag, tears stinging the back of her eyes as she looked into her grandmother’s face. “I’m so sorry, Nana.”

  Her grandmother shook her head, expression gentle. “It’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known.” Her voice quavered and it tore at Ollie’s heart.

  God, the bastard had assaulted her grandmother. “Are you okay?”

  Nana nodded, a weak smile on her face as Brandt came up beside them.

  “I’m going to go check the rest of the house, make sure it’s secure.”

  “He’s not here,” Nana said, and the moment she said it, Ollie knew Nana was right, the scent was too faint. He’d been gone for hours now. Brandt knelt behind Nana and started to untie her.

  “He never left this room.” Nana took a deep shuddering breath. “He came in from the back deck when I went to let Star out, and left the same way.”

  Her grandmother’s voice broke, her hands shaking as the ropes fell loose, and she was free. Ollie knelt in front of her, grasping Nana’s hands in hers.

  “Star started barking, I thought she wanted out.” Ollie recognized the flare of guilt in her grandmother’s eyes.

  “No, no. It’s not your fault. Hindsight’s twenty-twenty, Nana. You didn’t know. Star always barks to go out.”

  Rising into a stand, Ollie dragged Nana into her arms. Her grandmother trembled violently and her arms wound around Ollie’s waist. “I’m so sorry, Nana. I never imagined he’d come here.”

  Burying her hand in her grandmother’s silver hair she held her close, not willing to let her go, not yet. “Thank God he didn’t take you.”

  Brandt touched her shoulder and pulled her away. His hand found one of each of theirs, and he held them tight. “What happened?”

  Ollie forced herself to listen, trying to be impassive, but she couldn’t. He’d terrorized her grandmother, strangled her dog. That son of a bitch.

  To keep herself from crying, Ollie pulled her hand out of Brandt’s grip and knelt in front of Star. The collie lowered her head, a low whine spilling out of her, and Ollie felt her heart shatter. Like dog, like owner. Looking so damn guilty. By Nana’s admission she was feeling guilty for letting the monster in, Star probably for not keeping Nana safe, and Ollie, right now? She felt responsible for everything that had happened.

  “Ollie...” Nana blew out a breath, her voice so quiet as she continued. “He said he liked dogs. After she stopped fighting him, he kept telling her what a good girl she was.”

  Ollie’s lips trembled and she pressed them into a thin line to ward off tears. Nana thought she was just worried about Star. Ollie rose and shook her head. “Are you both okay?”

  “Yes, Ollie.” Nana smiled and this time it looked more real. “Neither one of us was hurt. Just scared.”

  Traumatized, more likely, but Ollie didn’t say it. She took a deep breath, gathering strength, and froze. He’d brought another dog? “What else? Who was the other dog?”

  Nana’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Normal dog. Golden retriever. Obviously his.”

  Ollie squeezed her eyes shut. Poor thing.

  “Ollie,” Brandt called softly, and she turned to see him leaning over the table, a white note sitting on top. Another note. Another message from the man she wished was just brave enough to come face her. He was pissed she got away? So come fucking get her already.

  “What’s it say?”

  Brandt glanced her way, eyes soft. “‘Still think you know me?’”

  Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “Did he use gloves, Nana?”

  No. Ollie didn’t know him at all. Her jaw tightened. But this, this was definitely personal now. She was reaching for her phone to call it in when it rang, sharp and shrill in the sudden silence of her kitchen. Coward, she wanted to scream at the ghost of the Hunter’s scent still lingering in the room. Caine Morgan, flashed on the screen. Screaming wouldn’t fix anything, finding this bastard would. She answered her phone.

  “Caine this isn’t a good time.”

  “I don’t give a damn. It’s never a good time. He took two more of my wolves, Ollie.”

  The fight drained out of her and she sank to the floor. Her breath came slow, surprisingly even. “Two?”

  “Danielle and Elizabeth Carson. Danielle is a mother of four, does accounting for the pack. Quiet as a mouse. Lizzy...” He paused and she heard the ragged sigh on the other end of the phone, the low growl. “She’s four. She’s a fucking kid.”

  Ollie could still picture the man in the shack, his face highlighted by the glow of a lantern swinging on the rafter next to her. The taunting way he’d mocked her, the fierce bite of his fists whenever he’d slammed it into her gut. She remembered the confidence she’d felt, the certainty. She’d honest-to-God thought she could save Rosalie that night, by getting her to stay put. By convincing her not to run, not to give the Hunter exactly what he wanted.

  She’d been wrong.

  Still think you know me?

  No. She didn’t know him at all. Then again, that was probably the point. Ollie pulled herself up, refusing to break down. He would not win. He wouldn’t beat her dow
n until she couldn’t get up anymore. “I’m on my way.”

  She hit the End button and turned to face her brother, who looked every bit as wrung out and spent as she felt. Brandt fisted one hand, and she watched as his lips thinned, the ripple of anger moving through him before he had it under control. “We all have cases that haunt us, right?” she whispered and Brandt just nodded.

  “Yeah.”

  “He got two this time. Mother and her four-year-old daughter, both from Sanctuary Falls.”

  “I’ll send a pack your way, then, and get another one out here. He was busy today, maybe—” The words died away.

  But he didn’t have to finish, Ollie knew exactly what her brother was thinking. Maybe the Hunter had made a mistake? Ollie was beginning to doubt it. The Hunter no longer seemed human. He didn’t make mistakes; he was perfect each and every time. Ollie rubbed the heels of her palms over her eyes. No one could be this good.

  “Don’t leave Nana alone.”

  “Child, I’m right here, and I’m fine.”

  Brandt shook his head. One corner of his lip hitched up in a lopsided smile, as playful as he could get with two more lives hanging in the balance. “I won’t.”

  Grabbing her keys, Ollie headed towards the door when Brandt’s soft words stopped her. “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Like what? Call him out? If I could, I’d have already done it already. He’s the sadistic cat that likes to play with his food. Here birdie, birdie, hop. Pounce. He loves this game of his.”

  “You still know him better than anyone else does. Remember that.”

  Ollie slid open the door and let herself out, sliding the glass pane shut between them so she didn’t have to answer. The autumn breeze caught her hair, lifting a few strands and tossing them across her face. Fat lot of good the knowledge was doing her. She still didn’t know anything important about him. Nothing that would let her save some lives, at least. Cramming back the stray locks of hair, she headed for her car.

  No. She didn’t know a damn thing about him anymore.