Sadie Hart

by Cry Sanctuary

  Dean laughed as he headed for the door. God, what he would have given to make the wretched bitch that had been his mother look like that. She’d never have touched him again.

  Not like all those nights his mother had wandered into his room, raving about how she needed someone now that his father was gone. Dean curled his lips back at the memories. His mother’s hands groping him, her lips— He shuddered. Killing her had been the best thing he’d ever done.

  A low, fat moon had glared at him through his bedroom window that night, giving him plenty of light to see. He’d known she’d come. She always came for him back then. She hadn’t expected the gun, though. At seventeen he’d dreamed of hitting her, beating her. Making her too scared to come after him. But the wolf in him was never strong enough.

  The animal had always cowered after one flash of her teeth, leaving him helpless to fight her. Dean curled a hand into a fist and slammed it into the wall, but not even pain helped him wrench free of the memories. The first time he’d hit her as a man she’d shifted and attacked him.

  That had been the last time he’d trusted the wolf to do anything for him. Oh, he liked the animal well enough. But not to keep him safe, not to kill. No, his father had taught him how to do that. With a gun. And when Dean had found his father’s old gun safe...

  A smile curved his lips as the memories turned to one he enjoyed. Watching Irene Winters stumble into his room smelling of booze. Her wolf-gold eyes bright as she climbed onto his bed, grinning. He loved picturing her face when she felt the cold press of a gun against her chin.

  She’d known then. He’d had enough, and not even the big, bad bitch inside her could save her.

  She hadn’t even had time to shift before he shot her. Just a flash of fear in her eyes and bang! Power filled him with the memory, the sense of triumph, but Dean smothered it. Lips pursed, he glanced back into the small room. His mother had been scared, a brief flash of fear before he’d pulled the trigger, but nothing like terror in the woman he left lying on his bed. A shame. He’d have liked to kill her again. But Holly, the one who’d had gotten away, the one who thought she fucking knew him?

  She’d be close enough.

  ***

  Ollie tossed her pen onto her desk and leaned back in her chair, automatically counting the ceiling tiles above her head. Tomorrow two people would die, and she still had nothing. The pack had been slaving over every angle. They’d pored through every lead they could find. She’d spent the last few days rifling through abuse charges from twenty to thirty years ago. Sometimes killers really were made by cruel parents.

  Nothing.

  They’d gotten saliva and DNA off of Lydia Marks’ body, run it through the system and nada, zilch, nothing. Again. So much for him making a mistake. Ollie started to sit forward and go back to work when strong hands found her shoulders. The rich scent of wolf touched her nose and she relaxed. “Who dragged you in?”

  “A very big kitty-cat. Two of them, actually. They’re hovering over your boss at the moment.”

  Ollie turned to see Lennox pointing her lovers to an empty set of desks with even more files on them. Looked like she was putting everyone to work. Ollie tilted her head back. “You here to help?”

  Caine eyed the stacks of papers and folders. “How helpful has it been so far?”

  “Not at all. But we might get lucky.”

  His teeth ground together for a second and he shook his head. “I have a different idea. If you trust me.”

  That surprised her. Trust him? “I think you know the answer to that.”

  A smile touched his lips, intimate possession heating his darkened eyes, and Ollie fought a shiver. One finger slid up her neck, a barest hint of a touch, and the shudder won. “It’s one thing for you to trust me with you; it’s another for you to trust me with this case. With someone else’s life.”

  True. It was a huge difference. Her life didn’t even come close to mattering as much saving Danielle Carson and her daughter. But there was no one she trusted more than Caine. Her hands slid over his. “I trust you.”

  “Then let’s go.” She blinked, her lips parting to argue when he leaned down and kissed her.

  When he broke away he met her gaze head on. “No, I’m not telling you where. If I do, you’ll start to over think everything. Head out to the car, and I’ll clear it with your boss.”

  Well, then. Ollie glanced back at the papers that had yielded nothing. Slowly, she nodded. “Okay.”

  Slipping out of her chair, she headed toward the front door and Caine’s car. A few minutes later Caine appeared, withdrawing a blindfold out of his pocket as he slipped into the driver’s seat. Ollie cast him a skeptical glance. “This better not be another way to get me into bed.”

  She hadn’t been sleeping since the night they’d last been together, but she couldn’t afford it right now. Sleep was a luxury for people who had time. And while she still had a chance to save the Carsons, she going to give it her all.

  “No,” he said softly. “I just don’t want you to see where we’re going until we’re there.”

  The blindfold settled over her eyes, casting the world around her to black, and he pulled the knot tight at the base of her skull. “Now relax.”

  The engine revved to life and they were moving. She tried to follow along, guessing streets in her head, but it was useless. Giving up with a sigh, she sank back into the seat and waited. The drive didn’t take long, helped along by the old rock music playing softly on the radio, and she fought the urge to sneak out her fingers and roll down the window. Just to get a sniff-peek at where she was going. Her hand twitched, but she held firm. Caine’s low, deliciously dark chuckle told her he’d spotted the aborted move.

  “Patience isn’t my strong suit.”

  “Nah, sweetheart, say it isn’t so.” The teasing tone to his voice made her smile. He’d parked the car, and though she officially had no idea where they were, somehow, with Caine in the seat beside hers, she was willing to wait. Willing to let him lead.

  She blew out a soft breath. “Stop teasing. Can I take this off now?”

  Ollie wiggled her eyebrows and scrunched her face, but the blindfold held fast. Fabric rustled in the car as Caine leaned closer, warm breath skittering down her neck and over her cheek. His lips brushed her temple, and she jolted as every nerve in her body came alive. Her breath hitched in her chest.

  “Nope. I want to try something. We’re going to leave it on.”

  His car door snicked open and he was gone. Ollie’s senses strained for clues. The pine and woodsy scent of forest hit her first. Followed by the crunch of Caine’s footsteps over leaves and twigs as he made his way around the car, opening her door. His hand wrapped around her elbow as he carefully guided her out.

  Nostrils flaring, Ollie tilted her head back and breathed in the scent of the forest around her. Not home. There was a wood-burning stove somewhere distant, its smoke a faint overlay to the air, but more than that, the place felt different, and yet familiar. Ollie frowned.

  “What’s next?”

  “Walk with me. Just take it all in. Let your senses take over.”

  “And you managed to clear this with Lennox? Hey, I’m taking one of your Hounds on a blindfolded walk through the woods; it’s almost as good as a moonlit walk on the beach.”

  Caine tapped her nose and she startled.

  “Behave,” he murmured. “And concentrate.”

  Fine. Ollie focused on the forest around her, sifting through the raucous calls of blue jays and the squawky, angry shouts of crows. The faint scent of rain hung heavy in the air, an oncoming storm. Rotting wood touched her nose, thicker now. Not just the occasional log, and she stiffened, pulling to a halt. Her heart started to pound as a familiar fear sank into her bones.

  “Caine.”

  His hands framed her face, holding her still as he crowded in closer. The warm strength of his body pressed against her. “Breathe.”

  She did. The first one was shaky, edged with the n
eed to rip off her blindfold and get a good look at her surroundings. She didn’t recognize where she was, but she recognized the scent of a shack in front of her. Metal hinges, rotted, termite-infested wood.

  “You told me you got lucky the night you stumbled on the Hunter and Rosalie Myers.”

  “Lucky being a poor word choice.”

  Caine kissed her forehead. Soft. “I want you to think back to that night. The night you found them. Start from the beginning. What happened?”

  Tension eased out of her in a sigh as she surrendered to his intent and closed her eyes, despite the blindfold. Remembering. She’d pulled up off an old service road, intending to get out, shift, and have a good run. She had searched every other backwoods area she could think of and had come up with nothing, and while she’d rigged each place with rudimentary surveillance, the whole mission had begun to feel like a bust. Yet another good idea down the drain.

  “I’d barely managed to shut my door when I heard a woman screaming for help. I drew my weapon and took off running. We knew he raped them, and while there’d never been any evidence of that on scene, killers and rapists, they all adapt.”

  That night flashed through her memory. She’d run through the woods, weapon drawn, moving as quietly and quickly as she could. Rosalie Myers’s panicked screamed tore through the night air. “Help! Somebody help me!”

  Ollie had known exactly who was out there. Of course it could have been someone else, but deep in her gut she’d known the truth that night. Ran straight for it. Her breathing picked up as she remembered. The wind whipping past her face, the rumble of an approaching truck, another scream shattering the night air.

  Ollie froze, her lips parted, brows furrowed as she replayed the memory. Searching for the sound she didn’t remember hearing. “Do you hear that?”

  She felt Caine move slightly, silent as he listened. “Nothing but birds and a deer a hundred yards out. We’ve been quiet enough we haven’t disturbed her.”

  “The car...”

  “Ollie, there’s no car.”

  “I...” She didn’t remember hearing it that night, but she had heard it this time. Dragging her bottom lip in between her teeth, she tried to get the mad dash of memories back, but brains were fickle, tricky things. Filling in or erasing details they either thought you needed or didn’t. With a frustrated sound growl, she focused back on her memory, fast-forwarding through the rest of that night.

  “I made it to the shack. I could hear her in there, thrashing to get free. Chains rattling. I could smell blood, sweat. She was so scared.” Ollie’s voice hitched at the memory.

  “Where was the Hunter?”

  Heart pounding, Ollie remembered sidling up to the side of the shack, listening. She’d been reaching for the door to yank it open when he’d caught her from behind. After that, everything had gone black. The next thing she knew, she woke in the shack. He’d set Rosalie on the ground, she’d passed out, and was reaching over to lift Ollie when he saw she was awake.

  With one hand, he’d reached out to stroke her cheek, the dimple in his shadowing with a smile. “I didn’t expect a bonus kill.”

  “Ollie. Where was the Hunter when you got to the shack? What was he doing?” Caine’s voice pulled her back, gave her the objectivity to disconnect from her memories and just browse through them, much like she’d been flipping through the files at the office.

  She cringed. The car she’d heard. It had come from the same direction she’d parked hers. Oh God. Ollie leaned her head forward, and Caine wrapped his hand around her neck, guiding her head to his shoulder. He slipped his arms around her.

  “He wasn’t there. Not when I got there. She was screaming and I just ran for her. I mean, I checked everything, but I was so focused on what was happening in the shack.” She took a deep, shuddering gasp. “That car I heard? I heard it while I was running to her. It was the Hunter coming back, it had to be.”

  Ollie grabbed a fistful of his shirt. “He wasn’t there when I got to the shack. I had time to slow down, take in the area around it. I could hear her thrashing inside, fighting to get loose, but I didn’t hear anyone else in there with her. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t with her. I had to get inside.”

  Caine drew soothing circles down her back, massaging the muscles, holding her. “So what’d you do?”

  “I checked the outside of the shack, slipped to the side of the door, and was reaching to open it when he knocked me out from behind.”

  “So you think he got there while you were running to the shack, heard his catch screaming—”

  She pulled back, wishing she could look into his eyes. “And knew he was about to lose his prey.”

  Ollie reached up and slid her fingers under the blindfold, slipping it off her head. Caine didn’t stop her. She glanced around the forest and felt the nauseous twist in her stomach. He’d taken her back to that night, in every sense of the word. “How’d you know?”

  “I got the coordinates from Lennox. She figured if there was a chance you could remember more, a clue, something, it was worth letting me take you out here today. Just to try it.”

  Ollie stared at the rundown shack. Could remember Rosalie Myers running out the door, the Hunter’s triumphant grin before he followed her. “So he took her out here a day before the full moon, and left her. Why?”

  Caine shrugged. “Lennox said you missed two check-ins. He kept you overnight.”

  “It wasn’t the full moon yet.”

  “So why kill Lydia Marks? He could have just taken her back.”

  But the Hunter didn’t handle change well. He’d been angry with her. He’d tried to tease, tried that too-dark smile on her, but the way he’d hit her after he’d strung her from the rafters... And then the more she’d fought him, the more she’d told Rosalie what to do, the angrier he’d become. “He doesn’t like interference. He likes things to go his way.”

  “So now we just have to figure out how to mess up his plans?”

  Ollie shook her head and stepped past him toward the shack looming in front of her. She touched the wood, the rough, splintered door a physical reminder of that night. Curling her fingers around the handle, she pulled it open. It was empty. As if nothing had ever happened here. Ollie turned, picturing Rosalie running into the woods, the wolf bounding out a few seconds later.

  “Let’s go,” she whispered, and followed them. This time as a woman, not a dog. She let the memories pour over her as she ran through the woods, dodging low branches and shoving through rough brush.

  She could feel the strained desperation that had burned through her that night. Heard the roar in her head and felt it jerk her to a stop. She paused. There. Ollie gestured to the empty patch of dirt between a pair of pine trees.

  “He shot me there. I stumbled and fell, landing on my knees in front of him. Here.” She moved to stand on that very spot. Her gaze lifting to meet Caine’s, and her heart filled at the quiet awe she could see on his face. Respect and sympathy, not pity, shone out of his eyes.

  “He told me to run. Screamed it at me. But I wouldn’t. He needed that, no, he needs that. That’s why he killed Lydia. It wasn’t just because she got away, but because she was running from him. He couldn’t help himself.”

  “Why his teeth? I’ve seen the files now, and he always shoots his victims.”

  Her shoulders started to lift in a shrug when she paused, heart pounding in her chest. “Because he’s a hunter. Not just a wolf, but an honest-to-god, hunt-deer-in-the-fall hunter. We’ve suspected that all along, from the way he knows these woods, uses the tree stands.”

  “But why his teeth?”

  “Because she got the best of him. She ran when he didn’t have a gun.” The triumphant gleam in the Hunter’s eyes flashed back through her mind and she tried to put herself in his wolf’s place. The animal giddy with the chase. “He lost control. He chased her down, angry she’d messed everything up, and he lost control.”

  Ollie scrubbed a hand down her face as she moved to t
he spot where Rosalie’s great cat form had lain dead. “And none of this tells us anything we didn’t already know. At least, anything helpful.”

  “You messed up his plans. You pissed him off. This is more about you than this is about the Carsons.”

  “That won’t save them.” No matter how much she wished it would. Come get me you bastard. But even if she screamed it, he wouldn’t come. He had to hunt her on his own terms.

  Caine caught her shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t.”

  “I know. Some days, though, it’s just hard not to let the guilt eat at you.”

  Pulling her close, Caine turned them both back in the direction of the car. There was nothing left to find here. Caine ran his hand through her hair, tilting her face up to steal a kiss.

  “Sooner or later, we’re going to get him.”

  Ollie nodded, but she didn’t saying anything.

  She’d been telling herself that for a long time. And it was getting pretty frayed around the edges.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Her house was dark, the familiar porch light off, as Caine turned up her drive. Even the lights inside were out and he frowned. “Where’s Nana?”

  “Brandt had her moved to a hotel, along with Star. He didn’t think he’d be home tonight.” The look she sent him told Caine exactly how she felt about being home tonight. Caine parked the car up alongside her house and said nothing as he killed the engine and slipped out, making his way around to her door.

  She had it half open and was climbing out when he caught her, pinning her against the car. Caine crowded in closer until his hips bumped her and he could feel the shaky rattle of her knees. More exhaustion than desire, and that bugged him. Hell. She needed a break. Not that people like her got vacations with mad killers on the loose.

  Caine reached out and swept away a stray, curly strand of hair, tucking it behind her ear. “Let’s rehash, shall we?”

  Ollie’s lips quirked up and she shook her head. “Let’s not. It’s just your way of trying to prove you’re right.”