“And that’s the love of a good man.” Alyssa laughed as they both chorused the words.
She got busy refilling the bins that contained nuts, multicolored candy sprinkles, chocolate chips and all the goodies kids liked to use to top off their ice-cream cones.
She wouldn’t mind having the love of a good man in her life, but that wasn’t likely to happen as long as she lived here in Cherokee Corners. Too many of the eligible bachelors in town were either frightened by her or thought her crazy.
Besides, she didn’t have time for romance. Between running the bed-and-breakfast and the ice-cream parlor, she barely had time to breathe. Things were especially busy this time of year, when the late-August heat made the thought of a banana split or a sundae particularly attractive and tourists filled the town.
Things would slow down in a couple of weeks when school began again. The kids of the town would disappear back into classrooms and the tourists would return home until next summer.
“I’ll be right back,” Alyssa said. “I’ve got to get more sprinkles from the storeroom.”
“While you’re doing that I’ll make sure all the tables and chairs are clean,” Mary replied.
Alyssa smiled her thanks, then entered the storeroom and began the hunt for the candied sprinkles amid the other stock. As she searched she heard the tinkling bell over the ice-cream-parlor door announce the arrival of the first customer of the day.
“Good afternoon.” Mary’s voice rang out with her usual cheerfulness. Good afternoon to you, too.” The deep, smooth male voice was unfamiliar to Alyssa.
“What can I get for you? Our special this week is our Brownie Delight for only ninety-nine cents,” Mary said as Alyssa located the plastic jug of candy sprinkles.
“Actually, I’m not here for ice cream. My name is Nick Mead and I just arrived in town. Ruby from the café across the square sent me over here. I need a room.”
At that moment Alyssa stepped out of the store room and had her first look at the man inquiring about a room. Shock held her rooted in place. A rushing wind resounded in her ears as the plastic jug of candy slipped from her fingers and hit the floor.
“We have no rooms available.” She heard the voice above the roar of the wind and recognized it as her own.
“Alyssa…remember, the Carlsons checked out late last night. The blue room is available,” Mary said.
Words of protest refused to rise to Alyssa’s lips as Nick Mead’s intense blue eyes gazed at her curiously.
All she knew was an incredible need to escape from his gaze, from his very presence. “You take care of it, Mary.” With the roar of dangerous winds still deafening her, Alyssa left the jug of sprinkles lying where it had fallen and escaped through the door that led to her private living quarters.
She went directly to the sofa and sank down, afraid her trembling legs wouldn’t hold her up a moment longer. The vision. She grabbed a strand of her long dark hair and worried it between two fingers, trying to shove away the thought of the recurring vision she’d been having for the past month or so.
She’d suffered with visions all her life but none had been as vivid, as disturbing as the one that had recently haunted her, the one that had included a man who looked exactly like the one who had just walked into her establishment.
She didn’t know how long she sat there, lost in a haze of stunned shock, when a light tap on her door pulled her from her nightmarish reverie. “Come in,” she called.
The door opened and Mary peeked her head in, concern wrinkling her forehead. “Are you okay?”
For a split second Alyssa wanted to tell Mary exactly what tormented her, but she’d told nobody about the terrifying, horrible visions she’d been experiencing. She now tried to shove those images aside and focus on her friend.
She forced a smile to her lips. “I’m fine. I don’t know what happened in there. I was suddenly very light-headed and dizzy.”
“Have you eaten anything at all today?” Mary sighed audibly as Alyssa shook her head. “I swear, Alyssa, you’re up before dawn every morning cooking breakfast to take care of your guests, but you never take the time to take care of yourself.”
“I’ll fix something now,” Alyssa said. “I’m just giving myself a minute or two to get my feet back under me again.”
“Take your time. I’ve got everything under control,” Mary assured her. “I got Mr. Mead settled in the blue room. I don’t know if you noticed or not before you got all wobbly, but that man is definitely lust-after material.” Mary winked, wiggled her fingers in a goodbye gesture, then closed the door and left Alyssa alone.
Alyssa closed her eyes and drew a deep breath in an attempt to steady herself. She still felt cold and shaky and knew it was the residual effects of experiencing complete and utter shock. Nick Mead. She now knew his name. Mary had said he was “lust-after material” but she didn’t have to tell Alyssa that. Although she was a virtual stranger to Nick Mead, he was intimately familiar to her.
For the last month she’d had visions of making love to a stranger, a handsome man with dark hair and ice-blue eyes. She knew exactly how his lips made demands when he kissed, knew the white-hot heat his caressing fingers could evoke. She knew the rhythm of his hips against her own as they made hot, frantic love.
She knew all this and yet she hadn’t known his name until now, had never met him before today. For the past month she’d been haunted by visions of the handsome Nick Mead, visions that came from some unidentifiable force, visions that almost invariably came true.
She had no idea what force had brought him here to Cherokee Corners, but she didn’t want him here. She didn’t want him in town and she certainly didn’t want him under her roof. Danger…her brain screamed. His appearance here, the reality of him, made her head ache with dread.
But he was here…in Cherokee Corners, a guest in her bed-and-breakfast. Maybe he would only stay the night then be gone with the morning dawn.
Struggling up to her feet, a momentary wave of hope winged through her at this thought. If he left first thing in the morning, then it was quite possible she wouldn’t see him or talk to him again and maybe her terrible visions of him would cease.
An icy chill once again clutched her as she thought of the visions that had haunted her for the past month. The visions of making love to him wasn’t what frightened her, but each time, the vision ended with her stabbing him in the chest…stabbing him over and over again.
Chapter 2
As Nick unpacked his suitcase and hung his clothes in the armoire and dresser in the charming room decorated in various shades of blue, his thoughts weren’t on his surroundings but rather on the woman he’d seen briefly downstairs.
The antithesis of Dorrie, who had been sunshine and light, Alyssa Whitefeather had seemed like a woman cloaked in darkness.
Long, black hair had spilled down over her shoulders and her skin tones had been dusky, the cinnamon tones of Native American blood. High cheekbones had further attested to her heritage. Her eyes, dark blue, had been a shock, startling with their unexpected hue.
She’d been wearing a shapeless light blue sundress but it had been easy to tell that beneath the flowing material she was thin, but not without feminine curves.
As he took his toiletries into the adjoining bathroom, he couldn’t help but contemplate the expression that had taken over her lovely features in the instant she’d gazed at him.
Shock…stunned disbelief…it was as if she’d seen a ghost when she’d looked at him.
He stacked his personal items on the sink countertop. Shaving cream, razor, cologne, deodorant and a large bottle of aspirin marked the territory as his own for the duration of his stay, a stay he’d told Mary would be indefinite.
Maybe he looked like an old boyfriend who’d dumped her, or a cheating ex-husband. He knew for sure he’d never seen her before in his life. Nick had a knack for remembering faces. He wasn’t always great with names, but faces he never forgot and he was positive he’d never seen Alyssa Whitefea
ther before in his life.
He dismissed her from his mind as he returned to the bedroom and finished unpacking his clothes. When he’d emptied his suitcase, he turned to the briefcase. He walked over to a small table covered with a blue gingham tablecloth that sat in the corner with a window on either side.
He moved the vase filled with fresh-cut flowers from the center of the table to the top of the dresser, then set his briefcase on the table and opened it.
Inside were copies of files from the Cherokee Corners Police Department…the reasons he and his team had been requested to come to town. His two-man team would arrive tomorrow, the date when the chief of police, Glen Cleberg, was expecting them.
A serial killer was terrorizing Cherokee Corners, and after four murders, Chief Cleburg had finally called the FBI for help.
As a criminal profiler, Nick had seen more than his share of evil. As a man he’d tasted the horror of evil in his personal life. That particular horror had begun to fade with the passing of time.
Grief over Dorrie’s ugly death didn’t fill his every waking hour as it had in the days and weeks after her murder, but the rage had never left him.
He refused to allow the grief or rage to take hold of him now. He had a job to do here, and in order to do it to the best of his ability he had to remain unemotional and detached. In order to be successful he had to attempt to immerse himself in the life, the mind and the very evil of the murderer at work in this place.
One of the reasons Nick had decided to come a day earlier than his team was because he knew how important it was to get a feel for the town, for the people where a serial killer was at work. He liked giving himself a little time to soak up the local ambience before he dived into the task-force work.
With this thought in mind he opened the first file folder. He’d already read them all half a dozen times, but he’d continue to reread them until he had every fact, every piece of evidence and every nuance of the crimes completely memorized.
If his stomach hadn’t started protesting the absence of food, he probably would have sat at the small table in the corner of the room halfway through the night.
When he could no longer ignore the emptiness and rumbling, he looked at his wristwatch, surprised to realize it was almost seven o’clock.
As Mary had led him to his room, she’d given him a quick rundown on the bed-and-breakfast routine. Breakfast was served in the main dining room between the hours of six and nine in the morning.
The front door was locked at ten o’clock but the guests were given a key to the back door, where they could come and go as they pleased no matter what the hour.
The amenities that came with the room, not counting breakfast itself, were fresh flowers in the room daily, fresh-squeezed lemonade, sun tea and cookies every afternoon on the veranda and turndown service at night if requested.
At the moment Nick wasn’t interested in anything other than dinner. The burger he’d had at noon had been great, so he decided Ruby’s was the place for dinner, as well.
He left the of all the establishments on the street. The August heat created a rather unpleasant odor in the alley as he passed several trash bins that likely contained spoiled food.
He followed the alley around the square, noting entrances and exits as he walked. All four victims of the killer had been left at various points in the center square. The alley made an easy, accessible escape route for the killer.
When he reached the back of Ruby’s restaurant, he walked around the side of the building, from the alley to the front sidewalk and the door.
Ruby still stood at the cash register and her broad face beamed when he walked through the door. “Ah, a repeat customer. That’s a good sign,” she said.
He grinned. “It was a piece of great apple pie and I’m hoping you offer something equally as appetizing for your dinner meals.”
“You look like a steak man. We’ve got a great sirloin meal in the evenings. And you’re in luck, most of the dinner crowd has thinned out, so you can have your choice of a table or a booth.”
Nick quickly perused the place. “A table,” he said. The tables were in the center of the room.
“You got it.” Ruby left the register and grabbed a menu from a stack, then led him to a small table for two. “This all right?”
“Perfect.” He accepted the menu from her and smiled his thanks.
“How about a cup of coffee to start you off?”
“Sounds great.”
Moments later Nick sat at the table alone, sipping his coffee while he waited for his steak dinner to arrive. If the cops in the town were as friendly as the other folks, it would make Nick’s time here much more pleasant.
A young couple sat next to him and he couldn’t help but overhear the argument they were engaged in.
“You promised me no more evening meetings until after the killer is caught,” the young woman said, her voice emotional.
“I know, honey, but tonight can’t be helped. It was the only time Mr. Maynard could meet with us.”
Nick tuned out the conversation, but it intrigued him nevertheless. It was the first time he’d heard anyone mention the killer that plagued the town.
He could understand the fear of the women in town…fear for their male friends, boyfriends or husbands. So far all the victims had been males between the ages of thirty and forty. They’d been stabbed to death and left naked in a public area around the center square.
The steak was grilled to perfection and the baked potato was just the way he liked it, smothered in real butter and sour cream.
As he ate, he found himself wondering how well he and his team would be greeted by the local law enforcement. Even though it had been the Cherokee Corners chief of police that had requested their help, that didn’t mean the locals would be particularly pleased to have outsiders working the case.
The bad blood between FBI men and city officers had become almost mythical in the passing of years. Usually, everyone managed to work together without ego or territorial battles in order to solve a particular crime…usually, but not always.
It would be interesting to see what kind of welcome they’d receive here in Cherokee Corners. Hopefully, it would be a good one and he wouldn’t have to worry about internal politics or other such nonsense. All he wanted to do was solve this particular case and return to Tulsa and the hunt for the killer named Murphy who had stolen his life.
He was lingering over coffee, when Ruby approached him and motioned to the chair opposite his. “Mind if I join you for a minute?”
“Not at all,” he replied, grateful for a break from his own thoughts.
“Steak okay?”
“Perfect. I think this is going to be my favorite place to eat while I’m in town.”
Ruby nodded and grinned. “Best place in town…although I might be a slight bit prejudiced. Did you get settled in at the Redbud Bed-and-Breakfast?”
“I did, and thanks for the recommendation.”
Ruby nodded again, but the smile that had decorated her face fell away. “Cherokee Corners is a nice town. We got a good bunch of people here, a nice mix of Native Americans and white folks. We accept each other and live together in peace.”
Nick wondered where she was going with this particular conversation, but he kept silent as she continued. “Folks help out other folks here. We try to take care of each other, and that’s why I thought I’d better warn you. We got trouble in this town right now and it’s best if you don’t find yourself walking the square after dark.”
“You’re talking about the Shameless Slasher,” he said.
She looked at him in surprise. “Yeah, that’s what the newspaper calls him. Sick animal is more like it. I like you, Nick. I don’t want to see you hurt while you’re in Cherokee Corners. I just thought you needed to know about the danger of men going out after dark.”
He smiled, touched by the woman’s caring. “Actually, the killings are what brought me here. I’m an FBI agent and I’ve been assigned
to the case.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Ruby exclaimed. “Here I’ve been sitting with an official G-man and didn’t even know it. I thought you boys always wore suits.”
Nick laughed. “In this kind of heat? Not this G-man, at least not until I’m officially on duty, and that isn’t until tomorrow.”
Ruby leaned toward him, bringing with her a powerful scent of perfume. “Are you packing?”
Always,” he said, thinking of the ankle holster that fit snug against the skin beneath his jeans.
Then I guess I won’t worry about you.”
“Hopefully when I finish my work here, you won’t have to worry about anyone,” Nick replied.
A few minutes later he left the café. Night had just begun to fall, shadows usurping the light in the alley first. He didn’t take the alley, but rather walked around the square back to the ice-cream parlor.
All he needed to finish off the good steak meal was a strawberry sundae and maybe a little chat with the intriguing Alyssa Whitefeather.
It was quarter until nine when he walked through the door that he’d first entered earlier in the day. There were several people seated at the round tables, finishing up sodas and ice-cream treats. Alyssa stood behind the counter and her eyes darkened as she saw him enter. If he didn’t know better, he would guess that it was a visceral dislike that sparked from her eyes. But how was that possible? She didn’t know anything about him.
He walked up to the counter and scooted onto a stool and offered her a friendly smile. It was not returned. “What can I get for you, Mr. Mead?”
“How about a strawberry sundae, and please, make it Nick, since I’m going to be staying here for a while.”
She made no comment, but turned her back and began to prepare his ice cream. Her long, dark hair was now pulled back at the nape of her neck, caught and held there by a light blue barrette. Her movements were efficient, but graceful at the same time.
From the back she was quite pleasant to look at, but when she turned to face him, her eyes were fathomless and unfriendly. She set the ice-cream treat in front of him then started to walk away.
Manhunt Page 2
