A Deadly Love

by Jannine Gallant

  “Thanks for understanding.” He brushed a kiss across her lips and slammed the truck door behind him.

  His bobbing light disappeared into the forest. Moments later she was alone in the dark.

  ****

  Dillon found Jesse and Harley a half-mile north of his grandfather’s cabin. Lanterns lit up the base of a giant redwood where a woman’s body was tied to the trunk. Her arms were splayed out from her body, wrists bound. Blood drenched the front of her long white dress, and slippers dangled from her feet. Her head hung forward, blonde hair partially obscuring her mutilated chest. Dillon swallowed hard.

  “Holy mother of God.”

  Harley glanced over and lowered his camera. “Stay back. This is a crime scene, and I don’t want it contaminated.”

  Dillon hunkered down beside his grandfather. Jesse sat on a rotted log, his head tilled back, his face gray in the moonlight. A shotgun lay at his feet.

  “You okay, Grandpa?”

  “I’ve been better. It was a shock, coming upon that poor woman. I’ve never seen such a gruesome sight in all my eighty-five years, not even during the war.”

  “Can I take him home, Harley?”

  The sheriff snapped off several more pictures. “I suppose so, but I’ll need a complete statement when I finish here. The state police and coroner should be along shortly.”

  “You know where to find us.”

  He helped his grandfather to his feet, then moved back as several men emerged from the trail. The deputy in the lead let out a strangled cry and ran into the bushes to heave up his dinner.

  “Jesus, Dwayne, if your stomach is that weak, don’t come any closer.” Harley nodded to the other men. “You can see why I called for support. My department doesn’t have any experience dealing with the sort of sick pervert who did this.”

  Dillon touched Jesse’s arm, and they headed down the trail. His own stomach churned uneasily. Taking deep breaths of the moist night air, he struggled to control his nausea.

  “Must have been an escaped lunatic from the prison. I always said something like this would happen when they built that place.”

  Dillon glanced back. “There haven’t been any breakouts at Pelican Bay. If an escaped inmate was running loose in the area, the local news would be all over it.”

  “Well who else would do such a thing?”

  “I don’t know, Grandpa. Someone sick, that’s for certain.”

  The ferns beside the trail rustled, and Jesse cried out, swinging his shotgun into position. Dillon jumped out of the way and grabbed the gun.

  “Put that thing down! It’s just a raccoon.”

  His flashlight beam illuminated the creature as it scurried across the path and disappeared into the underbrush. The breeze stirred the tree branches overhead, crickets chirped, and somewhere in the night an owl hooted.

  “Sorry, I guess I’m a little jumpy.”

  “Then you shouldn’t be carrying a gun.”

  Jesse’s grip on the weapon tightened. “A man has a right to defend himself. No one’s taking my shotgun.”

  Dillon sighed. “Let’s get back to the cabin.”

  A lantern sat on the table, a beacon burning in the darkness. Its light shone through the window as they crossed the clearing in front of the cabin. Dillon turned off his flashlight and pushed open the door. His grandfather followed him inside. With trembling hands, Jesse placed the shotgun on the rack over the door.

  “Sit down, Grandpa.” Dillon opened the kitchen cupboard and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, poured a shot of amber liquid into the Mason jar his grandfather used as a drinking glass, and handed it to him.

  Jesse took a sip and coughed, but a little color returned to his face. He took a second sip and leaned back in his chair.

  “Do you want to tell me how you found that woman, or would you rather wait until Harley gets here?”

  “I’ll tell you now. I want to make sure I have it all straight in my head. I don’t want to forget anything important when I talk to the sheriff.”

  Dillon nodded. He hesitated for a moment, then poured a shot for himself. Looking into his grandfather’s frightened eyes, he had a feeling he would need it.

  Jesse finished his whiskey and set the glass on the table. “I’ve been hearing noises in the night for a few weeks now, not every night mind you, just once in a while. I’ve heard screams a couple of times and crashing noises, as if someone or something was running through the forest.”

  “Could it have been an animal?”

  “I suppose a bear out of hibernation might make that sort of racket in the bushes, and a rabbit or squirrel will squeal to wake the dead when it’s caught by an owl. I stood in the yard and called out, but no one ever answered.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  Jesse shrugged. “I figured you’d think I was imagining things, and it would give you one more reason to pressure me into moving in with you and Zack.”

  Dillon’s lips tightened. He placed his glass in the sink and sat down on the second chair. “What happened tonight?”

  “I heard noises earlier in the evening, but they stopped. I was in bed when the scream woke me, closer this time, and unmistakably a woman. I threw on my clothes, got my shotgun and spare lantern, and set off to find her. It took a while ’cause I wasn’t certain exactly where the sound came from.”

  He let out a long breath and clasped his trembling hands together in his lap. “I found her just the way you saw her, alone, tied to the tree. It was dark, but I could see the blood. Still, I had to be sure.” He swallowed. “I set my lantern at her feet, and that’s when I saw her chest had been cut open. I backed away and called you and Harley. Then I waited.”

  “Jesus, Grandpa.” Dillon ran a shaking hand through his hair.

  Jesse’s voice was a whisper. “I could be mistaken, but I think something was missing.”

  Dillon frowned. “Do you mean part of her clothes or a purse?”

  “No, something inside her.” He raised his head and met Dillon’s gaze. “I think that madman took her heart.”

  At his grandfather’s words, a shiver shot down Dillon’s spine, and a hollow feeling settled in his gut. He went to the window and looked out at the black night. The moon had sunk below the trees, and the fog was settling in, obscuring the stars.

  This was his forest, a place of surreal beauty. It was full of his most vivid childhood memories of building forts and games of hide-and-seek amongst the trees. He made a living here, as his father and grandfather had before him. His fists clenched at his sides. And now it had been violated by a lunatic.

  They waited in silence for an eternity. The clock on the wall chimed twice on the hour. Jesse dozed in his chair, but a knock at the door brought him awake.

  Dillon opened the door, and Harley stepped inside. Lines of fatigue creased the sheriff’s face, and his dark eyes were hard as he glanced around the cabin. His gaze settled on the whiskey bottle.

  “I could use some of that.”

  Dillon walked to the counter, lifted another Mason jar from the shelf, and poured a shot. He handed it to Harley. “It’s been quite a night for all of us.”

  Harley swallowed the whiskey. “You may want to have a seat, Dillon. I’m about to make it worse.”

  Jesse rubbed his hand over his bearded chin. “What could be worse than finding that poor woman?”

  The sheriff leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He opened them and looked straight at Dillon. “The victim was someone we knew. After the coroner cut her down from the tree, I got a good look at her face.” His voice shook. “It was Cybil McCoy.”

  A hard, hot knot lodged in Dillon’s throat. He swallowed twice before he could speak. “Are you certain?”

  Harley nodded. “We’ll have to get official confirmation, but it was Cybil. She may have left town years ago, but I’ve seen all her movies. There’s no mistaking that face.”

  Dillon stood and walked out of the cabin. He pressed his face into his
hands. Tears dampened his fingers. He pictured Cybil the way she’d looked in high school, standing next to her locker, laughing at something he’d said. He saw her beautiful eyes sparkling in the afternoon sun as they swam in Manzanita Lake, the two of them alone in the forest on a hot summer day. He remembered the feel of her slim body beneath his as they made love for the first time on a blanket in these very woods.

  Harley touched his shoulder. “You okay?”

  Dillon wiped his eyes. “No, I’m not. Cybil was the first girl I ever loved. Who would kill her, Harley? Who would torture her that way?”

  He shrugged. “I have no idea. Maybe an obsessed fan.”

  “But why here? Why in the woods where she grew up? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “No, it doesn’t. Come back inside when you’re ready. I need to talk to Jesse.”

  Dillon took a steadying breath and followed him into the cabin. He listened as his grandfather repeated the facts he’d related earlier, but his mind was still on Cybil. She’d been a golden girl destined for greater things than Woodvale could offer. She’d gone straight to Hollywood the day after high school graduation, and within a few years had become a star. Her family moved away, but the whole community still considered her one of their own. His sense of loss was more personal.

  Harley took notes and asked Jesse a few questions. Fear and anguish were clear in his grandfather’s voice as he ran through the sequence of events a second time. Knowing there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to ease his grandfather’s pain made his heart ache. After Jesse finished, he cleared his throat.

  “Brooke told me she heard a scream a few nights ago. She was outside with her dog.”

  Harley scribbled something in his book. “I’ll ask her about it.” He stuffed the notebook in his pocket and stood. “Thank you, Jesse. Get some sleep, now, but don’t be surprised if the detectives show up to ask more questions in the morning.”

  “In other words, don’t take a shot at any strangers at your door.” Dillon rested his hand on his grandfather’s shoulder. “I’ll be by tomorrow to see how you’re doing.”

  Jesse frowned. “Don’t fuss. I’ve survived worse than this. It was a shock finding her, is all.”

  “Then you’re tougher than I am. Goodnight, Grandpa.”

  Dillon followed Harley down the trail, the light from his flashlight barely penetrating the thick fog. Only the sound of their feet on the packed earth broke the stillness of the night.

  “I’m sorry about Cybil,” Harley said. “I know she meant a lot to you.”

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “True, but it doesn’t make what happened any less painful. Seeing her that way hit me like a punch to the gut, and I didn’t date her.”

  Dillon rubbed his chest, his hand lingering. “Did that bastard really cut out her heart?”

  “The coroner said he did. The autopsy will confirm it. Sick freak!” His voice echoed in the night.

  They stopped beside his patrol car. “The state police will probably consider Jesse a person of interest. I told them he’s harmless, but he may be in for some tough questioning.”

  Dillon sighed. “I figured as much. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

  “That would be best. No disrespect intended, but your grandpa isn’t always the most stable rung on the ladder.”

  “He has his moments. Thanks for the heads up.” He took a step back. “Will you let me know if they get a lead on the guy who killed Cybil?”

  “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try. See you.”

  The sheriff drove away, and Dillon rubbed his gritty eyes. He ached with fatigue and sorrow. A soft voice calling his name stopped him before he reached the house. He turned and peered through the fog.

  “Brooke, is that you? What are you doing awake at this hour?”

  “I couldn’t sleep. Are you too exhausted to tell me what happened?”

  Dillon crossed the yard and climbed the porch steps. She sat huddled beneath a blanket on the padded seat of the porch swing. When she moved her legs, he dropped down next to her.

  “I wouldn’t be able to sleep, anyway. It was God awful, worse than anything I imagined.”

  Her hand found his beneath the blanket. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  He leaned his head against the back of the swing. “The whole town will know by morning.” His grip on her hand tightened. “Some monster killed Cybil McCoy and left her body tied to a redwood tree.”

  Her breath caught in an audible gasp. “Your Cybil?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, once upon a time.” He stared out into the night.

  “I’m so sorry.” She rested her cheek against his shoulder. “Do they have any idea who did it?”

  “As far as I know, the police don’t have a clue.” He pulled her more firmly against his side, taking comfort in her warmth, the smell of her shampoo, the softness of her hand in his. “Until they do, I want you to be careful.”

  He felt her tense. “Why? Surely it was some crazy stalker or obsessed fan who killed her.”

  “Maybe it was. Maybe Cybil paid the ultimate price for her fame. But until they catch him, I don’t want you to go out in the woods alone. I don’t want you to take any risks.”

  “I’m sure her killer is long gone. Anyone hanging around the area who isn’t a local would be an immediate suspect. Harley’s no fool.”

  “No, he’s not, and the state police are involved.” He stroked his thumb across the back of her hand. “Humor me, Brooke.”

  She turned her head in the direction of the forest and shivered. “I won’t go wandering around by myself. I promise.”

  He rested his chin against the top of her head as the tense knot in his chest eased slightly. “You should go to bed.”

  “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

  “I’ll be fine. My relationship with Cybil ended years ago. What happened to her was unspeakably horrible, but it doesn’t affect me personally. It makes me sad and angry, but it isn’t going to ruin my life.”

  “That may be true, but it probably isn’t much comfort after what you saw.”

  He shuddered. “Maybe not.”

  “I want to help, even if it’s just keeping you company.”

  He lay back against the cushions, pulled her more fully into his arms, and stroked her silky hair. He pushed the picture of Cybil tied to the tree out of his mind and focused on the woman lying next to him. He kissed the side of her neck, his lips trailing across her soft skin. She was warm and very much alive.

  “Thank you for staying,” he whispered in her ear.

  She pressed his hand against her chest. “It’s where I want to be.”

  ****

  Brooke knew the minute Dillon fell asleep. His breathing deepened and he relaxed against her, the tension draining from his body. She lay perfectly still, knowing how exhausted he was. She couldn’t begin to imagine the horror he must have felt when he discovered the murdered woman was someone he knew. Someone he had loved.

  She pictured Cybil McCoy as she’d looked on the movie screen, larger than life and so very, very beautiful. As a child spending her summers in Woodvale, she hadn’t known the older girl well. Cybil had no interest in the skinny, blonde girl visiting her grandparents. Brooke, on the other hand, had watched her with envy for the place she held in Dillon’s heart.

  Guilt ate at her. Had it been Cybil screaming in the night? If she’d called Harley, could he have saved the actress? A tear squeezed through her lashes. She’d never know if she could have made a difference.

  Dillon moved restlessly, and Brooke tucked the blanket more tightly around them. Pressing her face against his chest, she listened to his breathing and smelled his woodsy male scent. Slowly the darkness faded to gray. As dawn broke across the forest, she had an uneasy feeling the crush she’d had on Dillon all those years ago was nothing compared to the feelings she harbored for him now. When his hand pressed more firmly against her chest, he touched her heart.

  Chapter Five


  Marnie Palmer was missing. Irene gave Dillon the news along with his soup and sandwich special.

  “What do you mean missing?” He handed Zack a packet of crackers, and the boy crumbled them into his clam chowder. Dishes clattered in the kitchen, and Muzak drifted from hidden speakers. The smell of burgers and fries filled the air.

  “She had an appointment to show the old Winston place at nine this morning. Her clients stopped in around nine-thirty for coffee, and I overheard them talking. They were pissed—” She glanced at Zack’s bent head. “I mean mad because they wasted their time driving out from Eureka on a Saturday morning for nothing.”

  “Maybe Marnie overslept.”

  The waitress leaned against the side of the booth and tucked a lock of graying hair behind her ear. “Now that’s what I thought at first, but after what happened to Cybil McCoy, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to check on Marnie. I called her house, and she didn’t answer. Then I called Harley and told him about it.” She stood up straighter, clutching the tray to her chest. “He told me not to panic.”

  Dillon swallowed a spoonful of broccoli cheese soup. “Marnie probably had a date last night and stayed over. I bet she forgot she had a house to show this morning.”

  “I hope so, though I don’t think she’s dated anyone since the two of you split up.” She glanced over her shoulder as three men wearing heavy work jackets and boots entered the diner. “Duty calls. Enjoy your lunch.”

  He ate his ham sandwich and listened to his son’s detailed description of the cool ghost story Miss Farnsworth was reading to the class. His mind drifted. Images of Cybil tied to the giant redwood tightened his gut, and he pushed the remainder of his sandwich away.

  “Dad, can I have chocolate cake for dessert?”

  Dillon pulled out his wallet. “We’ll have dessert at home. I need to talk to Harley for a few minutes.”

  “But Dad!”

  “I’m sure Grandma June has cookies. She usually bakes on Saturday.”

  Zack’s eyes brightened. “Brooke promised to make gingerbread men. She said I could help decorate them.”

  “Then we’ll go straight over there as soon as I talk to Harley.”