“I’ll be fine. I’ll be in the car and I’ll keep the doors locked.”
“I’d still feel better if you’d let me drive you. I could concentrate on the road. You could enjoy the sunset.”
“I appreciate the offer. I really do, but I just need time to think and I’ll do that better if I’m by myself. I’ll take good care of your car, and I’ll be careful.”
“I’m not worried about the car. You know that. You’ve driven it before.” He stepped over and closed her door. “Just don’t stop in any isolated spots to catch the sunset. And stay away from Old Mountain Road. For all we know the knife-wielding maniac might still be hanging around there somewhere.”
“I won’t go near it,” she lied, not for the first time during this conversation. But if she told Larry the truth about why she needed to borrow his car and where she was going, he’d go ape on her. “I won’t be more than a couple of hours at the most.”
“Then just pick me up back here at the bar. I’m gonna meet a couple of friends and grab a burger and a few beers.”
She turned the key in the ignition and the late-model Toyota hummed to life. Larry gave a wave and she waved back before backing out of the bar’s parking lot and heading past the row of clapboard buildings and the clusters of weathered fishermen who hung out near the boats even when they weren’t getting ready to go after the big ones.
The air smelled of fish and burgers, grease and salt water. Usually she liked it. It made her feel part of the community she’d chosen as home. Today it made her slightly nauseous, but she knew it was her nerves and not the odors that turned her insides to the consistency of curdled cream. She had no idea what kind of welcome she’d receive when she stood beneath the threatening gargoyles and knocked on the heavy wooden door of the Bluffs.
She’d tried to call David, but his number was unlisted. With her first choice of action aborted, she’d moved to the next, then gone back and forth with herself all afternoon. Going to the Bluffs meant facing David again, and after the roller coaster of emotions she’d experienced this morning, she wasn’t sure she was up to that.
Still, here she was, driving the road to the Bluffs, apprehensive yet excited. The bittersweet truth was that she had never felt this way about any man before. Breathless and giddy and starved for his touch—as if she’d been waiting for him all her life without even knowing he existed.
She lowered the window and hoped the sting of the wind in her face would shock some sense into her before she reached the Bluffs. She might be a fool where David was concerned, but she didn’t have to let him know it.
It was almost twilight when she turned onto Old Mountain Road. The trees cast deep pockets of shade over the winding, narrow road, and she felt as if she were suddenly cut off from the rest of the world. There were at least a half-dozen families who lived up this way, but the only sign of them were the occasional mailboxes at the side of the road beside dirt drives that disappeared into a seemingly impenetrable forest.
A cold shudder rumbled through her body as she neared the spot where the newspaper reported the body had been found. Had the victim already been dead when the killer brought her here or had she been pleading with him not to kill her? If she was alive, the feeling of isolation Becca felt now must have added to the horror and desperation.
She slowed as the road curved sharply and began the steady climb to the top of the cliff and the turnoff to the private road that led to David’s fortress. She could see the roofline now, the turrets, the bulwarks, the battlements. Nothing was missing except a moat and a couple of fire-breathing dragons.
She caught a glimpse of a car in her rearview mirror. It was nice to know she wasn’t totally alone out here—only the car was coming much too fast. No one should be driving this road at that speed. One missed curve and the car and driver would go hurtling over the cliff and onto the rocks far below. She slowed and moved far to the inside, giving him plenty of room to pass as they reached the one lone straight stretch in the road. Instead, he slowed as well, keeping the same distance between them.
Saliva pooled in her mouth and the muscles of her stomach and abdomen tightened. Peering through the rearview mirror, she tried to identify the driver, but the shadows on the road had deepened to an opaque blur and all she could see clearly was the car itself. Dark, either black or navy. A nondescript compact.
She lowered her foot on the accelerator, speeded up another five miles an hour. He did the same, staying exactly the same distance behind her.
Stay away from Old Mountain Road. Larry’s warning echoed in her mind, but it was too late now. She was here. A split second later she felt a jolting impact. Her tires rumbled in the soft dirt on the side of the road, and she gripped the wheel with white knuckles, trying to steer the car back onto the road. It skidded across the center for terrifying seconds before she managed to get it back on course.
The driver had intentionally bumped her, and he was right behind her. The crazy fool was going to ram her again. Only this time he had moved to the inside. If he got a solid hit, she could spin totally out of control and toward the treacherous drop-off. It would be her, not him, who plunged to her death.
She toed the accelerator to the floor, but too late. Her body jerked, and the seat belt dug into her flesh as the other driver made a direct hit against her back fender. The car spun out of control, but miraculously she managed to straighten it and keep it going in the right direction.
The other car was on the inside now, between her and the protecting embankment. Finally, she could see the man’s face, a skeletal frame with bits of brain and blood oozing from the yellowed bone.
She screamed, still clutching the steering wheel as he rammed her again, a solid hit that sent the car careening across the road. The air bags exploded into an expanding, choking pillow and all she could see was a cloud of white as the wheels of her car left the pavement and went flying into space.
All white. And then all black. The last thing she remembered was the hideous, decaying face of McFarland Leary, grinning at her as he sent her to her death.
Chapter Eight
David loosed his hold on the reins, giving Socrates freedom to pick his own speed as they headed back toward his stables. The horse broke into a gallop, as if he knew they were going home.
Home. The word meant so little to David now. Nothing more than imprisoning walls and loneliness and a place to do his research. All the hopes and dreams he’d had when he bought the Bluffs destroyed in one unholy night five years ago.
It had been ludicrous for him to even imagine that it could change, that he could bring Becca there and that she would transform the house, bring laughter and life back into the musty, dark rooms of the aging mansion. It was past time he got over his preoccupation with her, anyway.
His heart would always belong to Tasha. His traitorous body was all he had left, a body still racked by desire though it was senseless to believe Becca or any other woman could want his hideous, deformed body. He mustn’t ever let himself forget that.
But he had forgotten. He’d kissed Becca and almost forgotten everything. Instinctively he touched the fingers of his right hand to his lips. He could still taste her. Tart, sweet, berries and champagne.
A deafening crash of metal on metal reverberated through the night air, thrusting him back to reality. Socrates bolted, then skidded to a stop, almost catapulting David into a cluster of brush. A horn was going off, as well, a piercing, earsplitting blaring that wouldn’t quit.
He jerked the reins to the left and urged Socrates toward the source of the clamor. Some dupe driving too fast, probably swerved into the opposite lane when rounding a curve. They’d had a fatality from that just over a year ago. Hopefully, this one wasn’t that serious.
The path to the road was steep and thick with undergrowth. Movement was slow, and the sun had disappeared below the horizon, bathing the area in the deep gray of twilight by the time he and his horse neared the road. Socrates picked his way down the last rocky ledge,
finally clearing the heavy growth of trees and coming out along a stretch of curved embankment.
David craned his neck and searched for some sign of the wreck. At least one of the cars had to be around here somewhere. The horn was still blasting away, a piercing, penetrating alarm that echoed off the rocks and came to him in deafening stereo.
It wasn’t until they were actually on the shoulder of the road that he spotted the tire marks, black, sliding almost sideways across the road and toward the edge of the cliff. If one of the cars, or both, had gone over the embankment, there was little chance for survivors.
He climbed from the horse’s back and cautiously led Socrates across the road for a better look. Straining to see through the trees in the dim lighting, he scanned the area at the foot of the cliff. All he saw was the splash of the water slamming against the rocks. He walked to the left, around a young cedar, and finally he caught a glimpse of red metal. Not at the foot of the cliff, but miraculously wedged between the trunks of two spindly pine trees forty yards below him. The last possible barrier between solid ground and the rocks below.
The headlights were on, the horn blasting away, but there was no sign of movement. He tied Socrates to a tree and took off, half running, half sliding down the embankment.
His breathing was sharp and jagged, his bum leg aching by the time he reached the site. Grabbing a penlight from his pocket, he fell against the car and yanked the passenger door open, dreading what he might find. He saw the hair first, bathed in his small circle of light, spread like a golden halo over the head that was slumped against the steering wheel. He recognized her at once and his heart seemed to explode in his chest. Not Becca. Not like this.
He touched his hand to her blood-stained sweater. She didn’t move, and he willed his mind and body not to collapse completely. His hand flew to the pulse spot in her neck. Strong. Steady. Relief flooded him, leaving him weak, but his gaze took in everything at once, looking for excessive bleeding, for a head wound, for an obvious fracture.
Becca raised her head and stared at him, blankly for a minute, as if she couldn’t make him come into focus. “David. How did you get here?” She pushed away from the steering wheel and pushed a clump of bloody hair from her face.
“Don’t try to move. Just tell me what hurts.”
“My ears.” She covered them with the palms of her hands. “Can you please turn that damn horn off?”
Relief was so sudden, so overwhelming, he burst into laughter. The sound of it surprised him. He’d totally forgotten the feeling and the sound of his own laughter. He checked the bloody wound on her forehead and assured himself it was minor before he left her to stop the persistent bellowing.
It was his first real look at the damage to the car. The hood was crushed, apparently from the impact with the tree. From the looks of the tracks, the car had taken a zigzag course down the embankment, hit the first tree, then spun around and wedged itself in tight between the two of them. The back right bumper and passenger side door were also crushed. It wasn’t evident what had happened to them.
It took a few minutes of straining and prying before he managed to get to the horn connection beneath the hood and dislodge it. By the time he finished, Becca was climbing out of the car. He rushed back and steadied her in his arms. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To check the damage to the car.”
“First we need to check the damage to you.”
“You don’t understand. This isn’t my car.”
“It doesn’t matter whose car it is, the damage is not going to get any worse while the car sits here. Lean against the car and let me have a look at you.”
“I’m fine.” She shoved her hair back from her face, then stared at the sticky red blood that clung to her fingers. “Except for this.” She smeared the blood on the legs of her jeans. “I must have hit my head. It doesn’t hurt, though.”
“It’s fairly superficial, more of a blunt blow, so you probably won’t require stitches.” He gave her a cursory examination, the best he could manage under the circumstances. She lifted her feet and arms and moved as he directed. “I don’t see any sign of broken bones, but you have some scratches and cuts on your neck and along your right cheek. They may be from flying glass. The windshield is busted.”
“A few cuts and scratches. I’ll take those. A few minutes ago, I thought I might be about to make my appearance at the Pearly Gates.”
“You almost did.” And the miracle of it all hit him again, somewhere deep inside him where he’d thought nothing existed except the horrible vacuum of loss. “From what I can tell, you are in amazing shape for a woman who just missed going over the cliff.”
“Does that mean you’re through poking and prodding?”
“I’m a doctor. Making patients miserable is what we do best.”
“I didn’t think you were the kind of doctor who worked with patients?”
“I specialized in research, but that was after I got my medical degree and after I practiced for three years in family medicine.”
“Then I’m in good hands.”
“Not good enough. You need to be checked over in the hospital. Do you have a phone in this car?”
“Who are you going to call?”
“An ambulance.”
“Then there’s no phone.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You need a thorough checkup and X rays.”
“No, I need to…” She moaned and stretched so that she had a better look at the front half of the car. “Oh, God. Don’t worry about an ambulance. I’ll need a hearse after Larry sees his car.”
“I’m sure Larry will just be happy to know you’re safe.”
“Right. Then he’ll kill me.”
Larry Gayle. David knew exactly who she was talking about. He was the guy she was with the other night when he’d talked to her outside Wheels, and he’d spotted them together on several occasions before that. He’d hated the sight of them walking and laughing together, having dinner, talking to friends. But she hadn’t been with Larry tonight. She’d been driving the road alone.
“What were you doing out this way?”
“It’s a long story. I don’t want to get into it right now.” She turned around, as if she were looking for someone or something, then wrapped her arms around her chest and shivered. “Can we just get out of here now? Do you have a car or something?”
“No. I was on Socrates.”
“Socrates?”
“My horse. He’s tied to a tree just up the hill. I can call Richard and get him to meet us here. He can drive you to the hospital.” He would like to take her himself, make sure they gave her a complete examination, that they were gentle and thorough and…
And he was thinking the impossible. He wasn’t going to walk in that hospital and face the life he’d left behind long ago. Even if he did, it wouldn’t help Becca. If anything, it would work against her, make people hate her just because she was with him. Perhaps that was happening already.
“What happened out here, Becca?”
“I’ll tell you everything later, but right now I just want to get out of here.” She leaned against him. “But I’m not going to the hospital.”
“I can’t let him just drive you home. You need to be observed by medical professionals, at least for tonight.” Even as he said the words, he knew what he would do. “Just relax, Becca. I’ll call Richard. You’ll be safe and cared for. I’ll see to that.”
He circled her waist with his arms and pulled her close. Her hair brushed against his cheek. He shouldn’t take her home with him, but he would. He couldn’t help himself. He was lost in a need he didn’t understand at all.
CIGARETTE SMOKE HOVERED just below the low ceiling of Wheels, like smog with no place to go. A country tune from the jukebox played in the background, and in the rear of the bar, a shaggy-haired man and a peroxide blonde old enough to be his mother were dancing cheek to cheek. When the boats came in the party began, and everyone was invited. Larry wasn’t sh
aring in the spirit of celebration.
He nursed his beer and tried to follow Kevin Pinelle’s banter. The guy was a talker, but he never said anything that amounted to a mouthful, and right now he was really starting to get on Larry’s nerves. “Gee, man, don’t you ever just sit quietly?”
“Sure. When I’m home, and if you don’t like talking, that’s where you should be. But don’t take it out on me ’ cause your woman ran out on you. I don’t know why you’re fretting, anyway. I’ve never met a woman who wasn’t replaceable. I say we go talk to the two who just came in.” He nodded toward a table by the side wall.
Larry gave the girls a once-over, and one of them flashed him a come-on smile. “Not my type,” he said, though on another night he might have settled. He pushed up the sleeve of his plaid flannel shirt and stared at his watch. Becca was an hour overdue and not a word from her. It wasn’t like her, and he couldn’t help wondering where she was and why she’d been so insistent that she go alone tonight.
“They sure look like my type,” Kevin said, still staring at the women.
“Yeah. They’re breathing. You go ahead. I’ve seen you in action. You can handle two babes without my help.”
“That I can, my man.” He smiled and tipped his beer bottle in the ladies’ direction. They smiled back. “But you might as well join me. Hell, if you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with. One or two—or more, if you’re lucky.”
“One’s plenty for me.”
“So are you hung up on Becca Smith?”
“Could be.”
“Big mistake, my friend. The trick is to have them hung up on you. Besides, I hear Becca’s making visits to the castle on the hill. Personally I wouldn’t want any part of my body to come in contact with a woman who’d been touched by that freak.”
“Crap, Kevin. She went up there on a job. If he touched her at all, it was to shake her hand.”
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