Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Colleen Gleason

  “He’s not in right now. Can I take a message and have him call you back?”

  “I...just tell him that I have reason to believe Deputy Malvern is personally associated with Garrett Winston.”

  “Reason to believe? Who’s calling?”

  “Ma’am,” he began. “I don’t just have a reason to believe, I know for a fact that your deputy and Garrett Winston were friends, partners, when they lived in Mississippi.”

  There was a long pause before she finally spoke. “Did you say Mississippi?”

  Sweat began to dampen his brow. Maybe this had been a stupid idea, too. Maybe he should have just chartered a plane to Eau Claire and met with the sheriff in person. He was dealing with a small community. What if she was good friends with Malvern? She could go to him first, rather than the sheriff. If she did, Malvern would know he’d been the one to place the call that would incriminate him. He wasn’t ready to sign his own death warrant.

  “Yes,” he finally said his voice rising. “And I have urgent information the sheriff needs to know.”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll patch you through to the sheriff. Before I do, give me your number in case I lose the connection.”

  “Malvern can’t know about me,” he said with vehemence, with fear. “He’ll...I know what he’s capable of and I have a family to protect.”

  “I understand, and I swear to you no one will know about this phone call except me and the sheriff. I’m assuming you’ve read about what’s happening here.”

  “Why do you think I’m calling?”

  “Then you know we could use any help we can get. Please, sir, give me your information and I’ll patch you right through.”

  Paranoid that she might be lying, he almost gave her a false name and number. Then a thought occurred to him. “Before I do, I need to know something.”

  “Sure, what is it?”

  “Is Malvern’s wife, Miranda...alive?”

  The woman’s breath hitched. “She’s...yes, but terminally ill. Why do you ask?”

  He released a deep sigh of relief. She was still alive, there was still time.

  “Because he’s killing her. Slowly.”

  “Sir, do you know what you’re implying? First—”

  “My name is Dr. Alex Trumane,” he interrupted, his chest suddenly swelling with pride. He’d found Number Twenty-Two and he would save her. “And I know exactly what I’m implying. You have a monster on your hands, and I’m about to help you stop him.”

  * * *

  John shuffled through the sodden, dead leaves, poking the wet ground with a wooden pole. Roy moved alongside him, keeping a five foot range and doing the same. Surprisingly, so did Ian. Ian had planned to leave for Chicago this morning, but he’d decided, since he had no other plans for the weekend and he hadn’t been in the field for a while, he’d join the search.

  John hadn’t bought his excuses, not after last night. Instead, he suspected Ian had stuck around to ensure he had his manipulative nose right where he wanted it. Between he and Celeste.

  In the distance, the rest of the search party, including all of Roy’s deputies minus Dan, a half dozen State Troopers, and a few locals, moved through the woods. Roy had hoped to have a cadaver dog as part of the search, but the handler, who had been driving from Green Bay, had run into a pile-up on the interstate. Still, they had eighteen men looking for the third victim, and that was more than he’d expected given the short notice.

  Radios squawked and men’s voices echoed against the trees. The air already damp from last night’s storm, grew thicker as they approached the river.

  John stopped and closed his eyes. Listened. Even from here it did sound like the water was rushing in three different directions. Goose bumps rose over his skin as he remembered Celeste’s trance and how she’d described the sounds.

  Celeste.

  God, he’d been such a stupid ass and he couldn’t wait to tell her. To apologize.

  After he’d gone back to the Chippewa Inn, he’d spoken with Rachel, who had assured him that all of Roy’s deputies’ backgrounds were in check. Then he’d sat in front of his laptop, opened the binder containing everything they had on Winston, and instead of focusing on the investigation, he’d thought about nothing but Celeste.

  He’d already realized what a fool he’d been even before Ian had called around midnight to read him the riot act. He’d let him say his piece anyway, knowing he’d deserved every bit of it. Instead of considering how Celeste must have felt when she’d found out her dad wasn’t really her dad, and that her mom had kept so many secrets from her, he’d only thought of himself. Instead of comforting her, he’d walked away. Childishly.

  She had every right to be angry with him, but he’d grovel, explain himself away until he was blue in the face. Maybe he should buy her a gnome as a peace offering. A way to break the ice. Then he pictured her throwing the plaster bastard at his head, and winced.

  “Heartburn?” Roy asked as he prodded the ground, and shoved the wet leaves aside.

  Ian chuckled. “Safe to say.”

  John glared at him, then shook his head. “Not the kind you’re thinking, Roy.”

  “Screwed up again, huh?” the sheriff asked.

  “Big time.”

  “Right it when we’re done here.”

  “I—”

  The sheriff’s radio chirped. “Hang on a sec. Roy,” he answered.

  “It’s Bev, I’ve got a call I’m patching through to your cell phone. It’s urgent,” she said, sounding breathless.

  Roy frowned and looked at him, then Ian. “Patch it through,” he said as he pulled out his cell phone.

  “I’ve got something,” one of the men yelled out not more than fifty yards from them.

  “Bev, hold the call,” Roy said into his radio.

  “No,” she shouted loud enough Ian, who was ten feet away, turned and raised a brow. “It’s urgent.”

  “Go ahead, we’ll check it out,” John said, and nodded to Ian. They left the sheriff behind, and jogged to where they’d heard the commotion.

  As they neared a clearing close to the river, John stopped dead.

  “Oh my...” Ian turned away from the decomposing body tied to a tree.

  One by one, the rest of the search party approached. When they’d glimpsed the nude, battered body of the third victim, they’d turned away as well.

  He didn’t. He wanted to, but remembering Celeste’s trance, he knew this was the crime scene. Another woman murdered by Winston and Haney. “Everybody stay back,” he ordered, then turned to Lloyd. “You’ve got the tape?”

  The Viking nodded.

  “Set up a fifty foot perimeter around the body, CSU is on call.” He scanned the crowd, then called on Jesse, one of the only men that didn’t look as if he was about to lose his breakfast. “Get these men out of here. Have Ed wait for CSU along the road and lead them back here.”

  While Lloyd began laying the crime scene tape, Jesse disbanded the search party, just as Roy ran toward them. Pale, his eyes bleak, he looked to the dead girl with disgust, then to Lloyd. “You’re in charge. Wait for CSU.”

  “Sure, Roy.”

  “Jesse, I need you to gather the rest of my deputies, along with the state troopers and meet me at the highway. Be ready to move out.”

  “Got it.”

  Roy began to move, but John grabbed his arm. “Roy, what’s going on?”

  “That call...I don’t know what to believe, but I’ve got a doctor from Mississippi claiming he can connect Dan to Winston.”

  “Who’s Dan?” Ian asked.

  “Dan Malvern’s one of my deputies.”

  Ian frowned. “The one with the sick wife?”

  Roy’s brows skyrocketed. “How did you know about that?”

  “I was with Celeste last night. She told me Will was opening the diner this morning because she was going to help your deputy by watching his—”

  John took off in a sprint. Fear squeezed his chest.

  Better
watch out for her. My brother’s got a thing for knives.

  Chapter 28

  FRANTIC, AFTER ROY and Ian had discovered Malvern’s wife barely hanging on to life, and no sign of Celeste, John burst out the back kitchen door. As he ran across the driveway apron, Jesse staggered from the garage, his face white, his eyes round with horror.

  He grabbed the deputy, as fear grabbed hold of his heart. “What is it? Celeste?”

  “No, it’s—”

  Releasing the man, John raced inside the garage, aware Ian was now only a few steps behind him. He stopped cold when one of the state troopers stumbled out the door of another room attached to the garage. Without preamble, without a word, John shoved his way in through the door.

  Ian gasped over his shoulder. “Oh...God.”

  John couldn’t speak past the bile rising in his throat as he stared at the grotesque scene. Blood coated the floor, splattered one of the walls, a patch on the ceiling, and even the light bulb. A woman, duct taped to an overturned chair, lay half-naked and lifeless on the floor, blood coagulating around her. The small room stank, not only of the dead victim, but as if something had been burned.

  “This just keeps getting better and better,” Mitchell said as he walked into the room.

  John turned, relieved the lead CSU investigator was here rather than at the other crime scene. “He has her,” he snarled. “That son of a bitch has her.”

  “Highly possible based on what I’ve been told.” Mitchell gripped John’s shoulder. “Keep it together.”

  “Keep it together?” John shouted, then pointed at the dead woman. “Look what he’s capable of. Look at what he’s done.” Raw fury, fear, and guilt suffocated him. Needing fresh air, needing to think, he stormed from the room, until he made it outside.

  Resting his hands on his knees, he drew in deep gulps of the brisk, Fall air, as his mind and heart raced. Malvern, rather Haney, had Celeste. The things the sick bastard could do to her...

  God, he loved her so much, and had made a huge mistake last night. What if that was the last time he’d ever see her alive? What if he never had the chance to talk to her, hold her, tell her he loved her and what a fool he’d been?

  “John,” Ian said as he came from the garage.

  He stood and ran a hand through his hair. “Not now. I need—”

  “You need to do as Mitchell suggested. Keep it together,” Ian insisted. “Look, I love her, too. You have no idea how scared I am. But right now, love isn’t going to do us squat. Neither are our fears. Right now, we need to be investigators first, a lover and father second.”

  John wondered when he’d become such a self-centered bastard. Ian suffered, too. Roy as well. Hell, every man here knew Celeste. They were all worried, because they’d all seen what had happened to Winston and Malvern’s victims.

  “You’re right, and I’m sorry. You’ve just finally met her and now...” He shook his head, unwilling to allow himself to think the worst. He was a good investigator. They’d search. They’d hunt. They’d find her. They had to.

  “Let’s consider what we do know,” Ian suggested.

  “Right.” He began running the facts through his mind. “Malvern likely took her car, because he left his pickup truck and cruiser behind. Will said her car was gone by the time he’d left for the diner. Roy has already issued a BOLO for her vehicle. I’ve looked at the map of this county. There’s lots of country roads winding all through the area.”

  “Too many,” Deputy Ed Young added as he and Roy joined them. “And who’s to say he doesn’t have another car ready and waiting. He ditches Celeste’s and we’re left chasing our tails.”

  The sheriff nodded, but added nothing more. Instead, he turned and hung his head.

  Roy had known Celeste since she’d been an infant. According to what Ian had told him last night, the sheriff had been placed in Wissota Falls to look out for her, to protect her, and yes, to keep Ian updated on her life. Still, Roy’s love for Celeste had been obvious.

  “Roy,” John said. “We need your help on this. Don’t shut down now.”

  “It’s my fault. If I hadn’t involved Celeste and...Dan was one of my deputies.”

  “I told you to use her on the investigation,” Ian reminded him. “As for Malvern, if Rachel wasn’t able to crack his background until it bled the truth, then we’re dealing with a very smart individual. But even the smart ones make mistakes. We need to find his, and hope it will lead us to Celeste.”

  “Winston knows,” Roy said. “That self-proclaimed born-again knows.”

  John thought the same thing. “We’ve used every threat against him and he still hasn’t turned his brother over to us.”

  “Don’t matter. We’ll make him talk.” Roy turned to John, his eyes wild with anger and bloodlust. “He’s in a hospital. They can bandage his sorry ass when we’re done with him.”

  “That’s not the way to handle the situation,” John snapped. “I want to talk with him, but let’s take a look around here before we do. See if we can find anything we might be able to use as leverage.”

  “Leverage? We’re wasting time bullshitting. We need to act. You know as well as I do that Winston’s hiding something,” Roy insisted.

  “We are acting,” John said, even if he still agreed with the sheriff. “We have state troopers on the road. That’s the best we can do for now. Malvern already has over an hour on us. I’m not going to argue with you about this and waste more time. We comb the house, then we talk to Winston. It’s the logical—”

  “I’m tired of your Mr. Spock logical bullshit,” the sheriff growled.

  Ian grabbed Roy’s arm. “Let’s walk this off. John, start the search.”

  While he understood Roy’s frustration, just as Ian had said to him, the sheriff needed to keep his emotions out of the investigation.

  They needed to be smarter than Malvern. Or else Celeste would end up like the others. Dead.

  * * *

  Dr. Alex Trumane parked his car outside the airstrip located on the outskirts of Jackson. Duffle bag in hand, he slammed the door shut and headed for the chartered plane that would take him straight to Eau Claire, where a deputy would be waiting for him.

  He couldn’t wait to see Miranda Malvern for himself. Talking to the county sheriff wasn’t something he looked forward to, but was necessary to close this chapter of his life. How it would end, he didn’t know. At this point he didn’t care. As much as he wanted to move on, spend the rest of his days working his practice and loving Kira, what he was doing now would be a defining moment in his life.

  Thoughts of Kira had him realizing he’d most definitely not make their date for tomorrow night. How he wished he could have pretended he’d never met Miranda Malvern, or Winston, or that monster. But he had, and he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t do the right thing. Even if it meant losing Kira.

  As he climbed on board the small plane, he withdrew his cell phone. He knew Kira was working, and was thankful his call would roll into voicemail. She was inquisitive, and while he loved that side of her, he wasn’t sure he could honestly answer any questions she might ask.

  After leaving a brief voice mail, he stowed his duffle bag, then buckled his seat belt.

  “With the wind behind us, and clear weather, we should land in about two hours,” the captain said with a smile before he ducked into the cockpit.

  Two hours. He leaned into the seat and stared out the window.

  Two hours would give him too much time to think. About the past, the present and the future.

  * * *

  Breathing hard, Dan dropped Celeste’s limp body onto the old cot in the corner of the abandoned, decrepit hunting lodge he’d stumbled on a few years ago. After working a kink in his back, he grabbed a water bottle and drank half of it down in a few swallows. Although she didn’t weigh much, hefting Celeste a few miles through the dense woods surrounding Chippewa Lake had been exhausting. He’d needed to bring her here, though. The cabin offered the privacy
he’d need to fulfill his fantasy, plus it contained everything he’d need for his escape.

  After he drained the rest of the water, he glanced at his watch. He’d given Celeste a hefty dose of chloroform back at his house, enough to knock her out for a few hours. Once he’d ditched her car at the mouth of the forest and camouflaged it with a tarp, he’d injected enough morphine to ensure she’d sleep the afternoon away. Worried he’d been wrong on the dosage, he decided he’d make sure she was restrained before he finished preparing for his escape.

  Using his state-issue handcuffs, he cuffed Celeste’s hands, then linked the chain through a hook he’d screwed into the wood above the cot. He then duct taped her ankles to the metal base of the cot. Once satisfied she’d be incapacitated should she wake while he was busy outside the cabin, he couldn’t resist running his hands over her breasts.

  So pretty.

  He moved his hand lower, tempted to undo her jeans and finger her pussy. Just before he made contact with the enticing zipper, he shoved away from her.

  Heart racing with excitement, he rushed from the cabin, dragging in deep breaths. Man, he wanted her bad. But he refused to take her while she was half-comatose. He thought back to how she’d reacted to him just before he’d knocked her out. The press of her body when she’d fought him, the total power and control he had over her. Just thinking about it had him hot and aroused.

  Even if she was awake and fighting him, and he didn’t have to finish preparing for his escape tonight, he would have still stayed away from her for at least a few hours. Primed, dick hard, he worried he’d climax too soon.

  Ugly Evie crossed his mind. That little bitch had gone and died on him before he’d even had a chance to touch her. There was no way in hell he’d mess up what he had with Celeste.

  He went to the side of the cabin and unbuckled his pants, then did the next best thing. Moments later, with images of what he’d do to Celeste racing through his head, he released himself with a harsh groan. Panting, he wiped his hand clean.

  After righting his pants, he peered through the small cabin window. Celeste lay on the bed as he’d left her, ready for him and all the depraved things he would do to that hot body.