by Rebecca York
“Then what?”
“Maybe there’s a hole we can get through. Or maybe we can use the gate. Depending on how it’s locked, we might be able to break in.”
They turned right and started walking along the perimeter, keeping an eye out for an entry point, but found nothing until they’d made their way around the back to a twenty-foot-wide strip of land that bordered the river. An old wooden dock jutted out from the bank. Ben looked around and spotted cigarette butts and a crumpled pack on the ground.
“Someone’s been here.”
“Probably kids.”
He looked down the river. “It leads to the bay?”
“Yes.”
He eyed the dock, then stepped onto the boards, testing them. “This pier has been rebuilt in the past few years. I wonder who’s using this place.”
“For what?”
He shrugged. “I was just thinking it might not be as abandoned as it looks.”
But the dock wasn’t their immediate concern. “We need to get into the building.” As Ben scanned the nearby section of fence, he saw a large hole in the wire mesh.
He glanced at Sage. “I’d feel better if you stayed out here.”
“I wouldn’t.”
He could have argued, but he knew he’d only be wasting time. The shadows were lengthening, and he wanted to get in there and get out before dark.
Ducking, he wriggled through the opening, then held up the jagged edge for Sage to follow.
On this side of the building, large doors hung on broken hinges.
“I’m going in first. You wait until I tell you it’s safe.”
She answered with a grudging “Okay.”
He stepped through the doors, pausing for his eyes to adjust to the dim atmosphere, punctuated by shafts of daylight knifing through the holes in the ceiling. Inside the temperature felt fifteen degrees warmer.
“Okay?” Sage called.
He scuffed at the floor with his foot and found a more or less solid slab of concrete.
Without waiting for him to give the go-ahead, Sage followed him inside.
A flapping noise made them both go stock-still. Looking up, Ben saw a dozen large white birds taking flight through the holes in the ceiling. The floor was littered with bird droppings as well as boards, pieces of metal and other building materials. He could see that there had once been two more stories above the ground floor. But the structure above them was filled with gaping holes. He looked toward the area where he thought he’d seen the bright colors from the outside and spotted what appeared to be a pile of fabric. But his view was partially blocked.
“I need to go up and have a look. Of course, it may turn out to be nothing.”
“But you don’t think so,” Sage murmured.
He made a sound of agreement.
When he looked at Sage, he could see beads of sweat forming on her brow from the heat.
“We should have brought some water,” he muttered.
“We won’t be long. We just need to see what that is.” She pointed toward metal stairs. “We can get up that way.”
“If they don’t collapse under us.”
He walked to the steps, testing the first riser. It was partly rusted through, and he moved to one side, trying to put his weight on what seemed like the strongest part. Sage followed him up. Neither one of them held on to the railing which would have meant risking scraping the palms of their hands.
When he reached the landing, he moved aside and grasped her arm. He stopped himself and her from stepping into a twenty-foot drop to the level below.
Switching his focus, he stared toward the bright-colored fabric. At both ends he could see something white, totally different from the swath of patterned color, and he was pretty sure he knew what that was. But he’d have to get closer to verify. Again he wanted to order Sage to stay on the stair landing, but he knew she wouldn’t comply.
Above the object on this level, canvas had been draped over horizontal poles to make a kind of covering.
“That looks like a tent without sides,” Sage whispered.
“Maybe to keep off the bird droppings.”
“Because whatever is in there is important?”
“Yes.”
He started across the ruined floor, trying to avoid places where it looked like the boards were rotten. But halfway to his goal, his foot went through a rotten section of flooring, and he almost tumbled through. Sage caught his arm, steadying him, and they both stood stock-still for several seconds until the surface under their feet stopped vibrating.
Crossing this space was beyond dangerous, and if he hadn’t felt compelled to get close to what was under the tent, he would have turned back.
Instead he moved doggedly forward, testing each section of the floor before putting his full weight down.
Sage followed, placing her feet where he had walked.
When they finally reached the tent, his suspicious were confirmed. He’d been preparing himself for what he was going to see, but behind him Sage gasped.
“A skeleton,” she whispered as she eyed the form laid out on a deflated air mattress.
“Yes,” Ben answered as he moved closer, thinking the position of the body was like an Indian ceremonial burial. The skeleton was human, dressed in a colorful frock like the ones that had been among Magdalina’s possessions. It was lying on a comforter with various objects placed on either side. A teddy bear, a heart-shaped pillow, a music box.
His gaze flicked back to the skeleton. In the overheated atmosphere of the abandoned warehouse, all of the flesh had rotted off its bones. And probably the birds had helped, a theory confirmed by the droppings scattered around. He was glad the bones were clean, because he’d rather deal with them than a body with rotted flesh.
He moved to the side, examining the remains. The skeleton appeared to be a woman with long blond hair. But on closer inspection, he could see that dark roots were showing near the scalp.
“She dyed her hair,” Sage whispered.
“Or someone did it for her.” He took in more details. The woman lay on her back, her lifeless eye sockets staring at nothing, and her hands were carefully folded across her middle. Her feet were bare, and he saw a ring on one of her toes. Her hair was neatly brushed and spread artfully around her shoulders. The hem of the dress was pulled down modestly over her knees, and she was lying on a platform that seemed more substantial than the rest of the second floor.
“Do you think it’s Magdalina?” Sage asked.
“There was a hairbrush in that box of her belongings back at Mrs. Borden’s. They’ll be able to do DNA analysis.”
He turned back to the body. “She’s been carefully laid out, which usually means that the killer is remorseful.”
“That didn’t do her a lot of good. How did she die? Who killed her?”
“I don’t know. But maybe I can get some more information.”
Sage’s breath caught as her gaze swung toward him. “You mean by touching her?”
“Yeah.” His specialty. Nobody had ever watched him do this, and he didn’t like the idea of starting now. If he’d had the option, he would have told Sage to go back to the stairway so he could have some privacy, but that was more dangerous for her. He wanted to simply turn around and walk away, but he knew this was one of the reasons Frank Decorah had sent him on this mission—to get information if they discovered one of the bodies. And to his surprise, he’d already done something he’d never accomplished before. Some inner sense of purpose had led him right to the place where this woman had been left.
His voice was gritty as he said, “Move over to the side.”
Sage scrambled out of his way, but he felt her gaze fixed on him.
Ignoring his own discomfort, he knelt beside the woman. He’d done this before—with people who had died recently. He had no idea if it would work with someone so long dead. But he had to try.
He flexed his fingers before closing his eyes and reaching to lay his hands on either side of h
er skull.
For long moments, nothing happened, and he thought that it wasn’t going to work. He was about to mutter a curse, when an unseen force seemed to reach in and grab his mind.
He gasped for breath. Far away he heard Sage call his name, but he wasn’t capable of answering.
Then his awareness of his surroundings vanished. He was no longer in the warehouse. He was lying on his back in a bedroom where he’d been confined for months.
He was someone else. A woman.
She was in a little girl’s room. All pink and white and frilly and totally out of place. And he—no, the woman he had become—was lying on the bed, staring up at the man who had taken her captive months ago. Her vision was blurred, and she blinked, trying to see his face, but the whole head was covered by a black hood with small holes cut for the eyes and mouth.
“Let me see you,” she said, the words coming out as a wisp of breath. She felt strange. Detached, as though her mind were going numb, like her body.
She tried to remember her own name. She thought it was Magdalina, only she wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe it was Wendy. That’s what he had been calling her all this time.
Reality had blurred a long time ago in this sweet-looking room that was really the worst kind of prison. The man had confused and terrified her with his kindness and his anger, the two alternating with no way to predict what would happen next.
Her tormentor spoke, his voice distorted, like her vision.
“It’s too late. I wanted you to be my little girl, but you don’t love me. You never loved me.”
“I did. I do.”
“Stop lying to me.”
Her lips moved, but now no sound came out. She was fading to blackness. Peace at last, after such a long ordeal.
Peace at last.
A voice drifted toward him from centuries away. Someone was calling him, her voice high and urgent, but he felt no need to respond.
“Ben. Wake up, Ben.”
She was speaking to him, he thought. Yet her words only brought confusion. She had called him Ben. He was Magdalina. But how was that possible? Magdalina was dead.
“Ben.”
He struggled to find himself. He was Ben Walker. Or he had been Ben Walker. Before he lost himself. And now he simply wanted to drift.
A hand on his shoulder shook him. “Ben. Wake up. You’ve got to wake up. I think I heard someone outside.”
That last part got his attention. His eyes snapped open, and he found himself staring into a woman’s worried eyes as she bent over him.
“Sage?”
“Thank God,” she breathed, her voice high and thin.
He moved his body, trying to get comfortable on the hard surface below him. He’d been holding on to a woman’s skull, but his hands had slipped off. Maybe because he had fallen over and was lying on his side.
He blinked, struggling to focus on Sage.
“Ben, Ben. Are you all right?” He felt her hand grasp his, her fingers digging into his flesh.
He fixed his gaze on her, fighting the lassitude that had come over him. He was exhausted, and all he wanted to do was sleep. But he knew in some part of his mind that was the wrong thing to do. And the wrong place.
“Ben, are you all right?” she said again.
He licked his dry lips, making a tremendous effort to pull himself together. “I think so.”
Careful not to move too fast, he pushed himself to a sitting position and looked around at the ruined building where he had been lying. He was back in the old warehouse with late afternoon sunlight filtering in through holes in the roof.
Back? No, he’d never really left this place in reality. But his mind had been linked to that of another person, in another place. The body of the woman beside him, laid out for a ceremonial burial.
“You were . . . in a trance or something.” Sage gulped. “And I got scared.”
“Sorry.”
When he swayed, Sage gripped his arm. “Don’t fall.”
“I won’t,” he answered automatically.
He sat for a few moments longer, gathering his strength as he tried to absorb what he had learned, and wondered how he had done it. You couldn’t really say he’d linked to another person’s mind because her flesh had rotted away, including her brain cells. Instead he’d picked up strong memories lingering in the psychic energy around the skeleton. He wasn’t sure if that was the right way to put it, but it was the only thing that made any kind of sense at the moment.
The strangest part was that his impressions were sharper than usual. Did that mean there was always some kind of interference from the recently dead? This time he had picked up a lot of information, although he wished it was more useful.
Sage was speaking, her voice urgent, and he struggled to pay attention to her question. He had the feeling she’d asked it before, and he hadn’t answered.
“Was it Magdalina?”
“I’m pretty sure it was.”
“How did she die?”
“I think he poisoned her. Or gave her a strong sedative in her food, and she lost consciousness.”
“Oh Lord.”
“I’m not sure what happened after that. He could have smothered her.”
Sage made a moaning sound and gestured toward the skeleton. “Is that how Laurel’s going to end up? She won’t know when she’s eating her last meal.”
“I don’t know,” he answered, still trying to solidify his impressions.
“Please. Tell me everything you remember.”
“I . . . She was in a frilly bedroom.”
“Like the one at Gary’s house?”
“Something like that.”
“Then maybe it was him!”
“That doesn’t compute. Why would he have kidnapped Magdalina or anyone else besides Laurel? And why would he keep calling her Wendy?”
“He called her Wendy?”
oOo
“Right. Why would Gary do that?” Sage made a frustrated sound. “I wasn’t thinking. The bedroom fits—but not the victim.” She gripped his arm. “Did you see the kidnapper? Is it someone we’ve met? One of the big men in town?”
“I don’t know. He was hiding from her. Or from himself. Maybe both. His whole head was covered by a hood. I couldn’t see his face.”
He saw Sage grimace. “It would be horrible if that were the only person you had contact with.” She shuddered. “Like an old-fashioned executioner.”
“The good news for us is that Magdalina was thinking he’d kept her for months. And she’d tried to do what he wanted. That means we’ve still got time to save Laurel.”
“If the same guy has her. And if he follows the same pattern. What did he want from her?” Sage swallowed hard. “Do you think it’s sexual? Did he rape her?”
“I don’t think so. I remember his saying that he wanted her to be his daughter.”
“His daughter? Why?”
“Maybe he lost a child and was trying to replace her.” Ben’s mind continued to sift though the clues. There was something strange about the guy, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. “I think he kills them when he gives up on getting what he wants. When they don’t bond with him. You said Laurel is smart. She’ll try to please him,” he said, although even as he spoke, he was pretty sure it wasn’t possible.
Sage nodded, and he saw her expression swinging between hope and despair.
He climbed to his feet and had to grab a support beam to stay upright. She was right beside him, her arms around him. He let himself lean against her, and she gripped him firmly at the waist. They held each other for long moments. She kept him close, stroking her hands over his back and shoulders, and he leaned into her warmth.
“I didn’t know it would take so much out of you,” she said.
He managed a small laugh. “Neither did I. What did I look like when I was . . . connecting with her memories?”
She hugged him more tightly. “Like you were gone. Your face was slack, and you felt cold. I was so frigh
tened.”
“How long was I like that?”
“It felt like hours. I guess it was only a few minutes.”
“Sorry.”
“You did what you had to. I just wasn’t prepared.”
He took a breath and eased away. “We’d better get out of here. Didn’t you say you heard someone?”
“Voices. Then they stopped. Maybe somebody saw your car outside.”
He didn’t like the idea that they might have company.
She gave him a critical look. “You need to rest.”
“Yeah.” He glanced back at the skeleton and shuddered. “When we get back to the motel.”
“Right.”
Already he was focusing on the implications of their discovery. “We have to report this to Chief Judd.”
“Do you think he’s going to be happy about our finding the body of one of the missing girls?”
“He’ll want to deny it, but he’ll have to do the DNA analysis.” He thought for a moment. “And I assume you know we can’t talk about my communicating with her.”
“Of course.” Her gaze swung to the treacherous stretch between them and the stairway. “Can you make it?”
“I guess I have to.”
“I’ll go first. Put your hand on my shoulder.”
He didn’t like having her precede him across the dangerous yards of rotten flooring, but he conceded that it was the best option. She moved cautiously, making her slow way back to the stairs, and he followed. The experience with Magdalina, if that’s who she was, had drained him. All he wanted to do was go back to the Beach Breeze and sleep for a couple of hours.
Moving slowly, Sage took the same course they’d crossed earlier, testing the flooring before putting her weight on it. He breathed out a sigh when they arrived back at the more solid stair platform.
He leaned on her as they descended, and he stopped at the bottom to catch his breath, embarrassed that he was taking so long to recover.
“I’ll drive,” she said as they started toward the double doors.
He didn’t bother to protest, but he was thinking this was the second time he’d let her do it. Maybe his extreme reaction to touching the woman’s skeleton was because he’d been hit over the head recently. That was as good an explanation as any.
