If You Hear Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense

by Walker, Shiloh

  She made a face.

  Law laughed. “It’s the truth. When you dive into something, if you can’t handle it, then you risk making two victims instead of one—how does that help anybody?”

  “You’re right.” She sighed and rested her head against the padded bench. She closed her eyes, the thick fringe of her lashes lying against her ivory skin. “I know you’re right. I just wish … I don’t know. I just have a bad feeling about this, Law. Really bad.”

  All over town—damn it. They were talking about it all over town.

  How could she have managed to cause this much trouble?

  Fuck, it had been two A.M. and miles outside of town. One neighbor—only one. But that one neighbor had heard her.

  As he stopped at the counter to pay for a Coke and gum—neither of which he needed—he heard Adrienne Cooper talking about it to Deb. He just barely managed to keep from snarling.

  Deb Sparks was more effective at getting news out than any modern media known to man. Tell her and in a matter of hours, people who no longer even lived in Ash, who hadn’t lived in Ash in twenty years, would hear about it. Family members who only visited every other year would hear about it.

  Hell, maybe the whole world.

  Not good.

  Not good at all.

  Judging by the strange glitter in Deb’s eye, she was miffed, too. Probably irritated that she hadn’t been the source of all the excitement instead of Lena.

  Too bad it wasn’t Deb.

  Too bad indeed. She might know how to spread the word, but she was also known for spreading … less than reliable words.

  Somebody called out his name and he only paused a moment in the swinging glass door. “I’ve got to get back, sorry!”

  Yes, he had to get back.

  Had to figure out what to do. Had to decide.

  The drive back to his place hadn’t yielded any miracle answer.

  Distracted, he paced the hard-packed dirt floor and studied his territory.

  It was dimly lit, the light provided by battery-powered torches or gaslights. Completely self-contained, completely his. He had spent a great deal of time in this place, perfecting it until it was exactly as he wanted it. Some of his tools and his toys he’d crafted with his own two hands.

  He took a great deal of pride in this place.

  His own little world.

  And he’d come close, too close to being discovered. If he was discovered … well, it had always been a risk, but he hadn’t exactly envisioned it being a risk quite like this. Hadn’t imagined it happening quite in this fashion.

  She was strapped down to the cot, her face slack, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm of deep, deep sleep.

  She’d tried to rouse twice, but he’d just given her more Valium. Right now, he needed her quiet. So he could think.

  He’d think easier away from here, but he couldn’t seem to pull back just yet.

  It was like a drug, he realized—an addictive, dangerous drug that was sure as shit going to fry his brain if he wasn’t careful.

  As close as he’d come to being caught, it had been such a thrill. And as chancy, as dicey as things were now, what was he doing? Cleaning up his trail? Getting rid of her?

  No. He was out here, all but whacking off and remembering it all over again.

  The hours he’d spent in town hadn’t helped him find answers, and while he’d intended to go home and clear his mind, he hadn’t been able to.

  What to do?

  Yes, somebody had heard her.

  But it wasn’t like it was the most reliable witness. Nobody had seen anything.

  This was new. Unusual for him. To feel so … unsure. And on the flip side, so exciting. Part of him raged at what she’d done. Part of him wanted her to do it all over again—so he could feel that rush, all over again.

  Mouth dry, he stopped in the middle of the floor and turned back to look at the door. Right there. He’d barely made it inside before the lust got control of him. Once he’d caught her and gotten her back here, all he had been able to think of was taking her—hard, fast, brutal. He hadn’t even attempted to bring a response from her this time.

  Once he’d gotten her back inside his spot, he’d slammed her against the dirt wall. With his hand over her mouth, he’d fucked her again, relishing every last struggle, every choked, muffled cry. She’d been unconscious when he was done, and as his mind cleared and his blood cooled, he realized he’d need to keep her that way for a while.

  Just in case.

  It had been a wise call.

  Even as he had gone about dumping her on the bed, he’d heard the distant wail of sirens.

  He hadn’t panicked. Even then, he hadn’t panicked. Panicking never served a wise man. Instead, he dealt with his girl, using a syringe to give her a heavy dose of Valium. It would keep her unconscious for the next little while. After taking care of that first, pressing need, he’d checked the door, made sure his place was still secure, still hidden.

  Then he’d gathered his belongings and debated … did he slip away? Did he wait here?

  Too close … last night had been far, far too close.

  He’d spent the morning in town, listening to the chatter on the gossip grapevine.

  After all of these years, after so much care, he’d messed up. He’d almost been caught.

  Now he had to decide what to do.

  Careful … he had to be careful now, even more careful than before. He had to think it through. Had to plan. While part of him insisted he kill her before this place was found, he knew that might not be wise.

  The sooner he killed her, the sooner he’d have to dispose of her body—that was always the riskiest time, aside from actually bringing her in. If he killed her now, then he’d have to get rid of the body soon, and people would be too watchful for a few days.

  Needed to wait. Yeah. That was best. Yes. Yes. That was it.

  That had to be the way.

  Besides, he couldn’t make his plans until he knew what the sheriff’s department planned to do about Lena Riddle’s report. Lena Riddle. That was a hot topic in town today. Too many people talking about what she’d heard, whether or not she’d really heard anything, whether or not her sanity was in doubt.

  She wasn’t crazy, though. And too many people knew that.

  That was the entire problem.

  Hope woke to the sound of rain, and her cell phone buzzing on the bedside table.

  She glanced at the display and grimaced. Huddling under the blankets, she sat up and answered the insistent ring. She could ignore it, but he’d just call back. And keep it up until she answered.

  Law was rather insistent that way.

  “Hey.”

  “You’re not here.”

  “No. I’m not there. I’m here.”

  “And where is here?” he asked, his voice level.

  He wasn’t mad—she knew that. He was worried, and he’d continue to worry and she could tell him she was a grown woman and could take care of herself, but that was a lie; she absolutely sucked at taking care of herself.

  He was just being Law, but she suspected that if she told him she was at a hotel only twelve miles from his place, he might get mad. So she kept that quiet.

  “At a hotel. It’s in Kentucky,” she said. “I was just too tired to finish the drive and now … well, I need a day or two.”

  “For what?”

  “I just do,” she said, keeping her voice flat.

  For a moment he was quiet, and then quietly, he asked, “Are you okay?”

  She knew what he was asking. “I’m fine. Really. I just need some time. I’ll be there soon. Okay?”

  Over the line, she could hear him sigh. “Yeah, you told me that last week. You actually coming?”

  “Law, I told you I’d be there,” she said. “I already am here … I just need to … get my head on straight.” Not that she was very likely to do that in the next twenty-four hours. She really, really had planned on heading back to his place the
day before.

  But something about the confrontation with the deputy, and then the strange, tense minutes that followed after he’d left, had set her on edge.

  And that guy. The blond. Why had he affected her like that? What was the deal?

  She was so jumpy right now—a door had banged in the room next to hers and she’d flinched. She was literally five seconds away from hiding under the sink counter.

  She might not get her head on straight, but she could at least pretend that she wasn’t just a whisper away from the funny farm.

  Funny farm.

  Uniforms.

  Shaking her head, she thought, It’s almost like old times.

  “Hope?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. Sorry, I’m just thinking. Look, I’ll be there.”

  “When?” Law asked. “You’ve been telling me this for weeks and then another week passes and you never show.”

  She sighed, rubbing the tense, aching muscles of her neck. She couldn’t even explain, exactly, why she wasn’t there right now—it wasn’t like she was far away. It wasn’t like she had a whole hell of a lot of money, either. She was down to her last couple hundred dollars.

  But she needed to settle her brain, settle herself, especially after the episode earlier. She couldn’t do that in the few minutes it would take to get to his place—she knew she couldn’t, but she also couldn’t go there until she was a little less on edge.

  “Hope?”

  She swallowed and closed her eyes. “Yeah?”

  “You’re not coming, are you?” The flat, grim sound of his voice made her wince.

  “I am coming.” She closed one hand into a fist, fought the tears that rose in her throat. “I am coming. I’m just … I need a couple more days.”

  Silence hung between them and finally, Law sighed. “Yeah. Whatever.”

  But she could tell he didn’t believe her. “I’ll be there, Law.” Damn it, she couldn’t keep running. She had to stop at some point, at some time, and the time was now. “I’ll be there. Three more days, Law. I’ll be there in three more days.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes, Law. Three days, Law. I promise.”

  A huge sigh whooshed out of him. “Good. Good.”

  She could picture him, clear as if he stood there, running his fingers through his hair and smiling that way he did when he got his way. And that’s what had happened—he was worried about her and he wanted her someplace where he could take care of her and that meant having her closer to him.

  If she wasn’t so desperate, if she had anyplace else she could go … if she didn’t really, really need a friend, there was no way she would do this. She didn’t want to lean on anybody and she didn’t want to need anybody.

  But it was Law.

  If she was going to put her life together—hell, she didn’t have a life right now. She had to build one, and she needed a friend, she needed a job, she needed a place to live. Law was her best, and only, friend and he was offering the job, and that would help her find a place to live.

  If she couldn’t let herself lean on her oldest, dearest friend, then she couldn’t really lean on anybody.

  Maybe she should have more pride, but considering the hell her life had been the past few years, she knew how very little pride actually meant. She had her freedom, and she had a friend willing to help her. That had to mean more than pride.

  Quietly, she said again, “I’ll be there soon.”

  Then she hung up the phone and stared at the mirror.

  IT WAS MONDAY—A RAINY, DREARY MONDAY. LENA lay in bed, listening to the rain falling outside and trying to work up the interest to get dressed. After the hell of yesterday, when she’d finally lain down, she’d gone straight to sleep, dropping down like a stone.

  But dreams plagued her.

  Dreams plagued by a woman’s screams.

  Dreams where Lena was running through the woods, being chased. Chased by some nameless, faceless monster.

  Dreams about Ezra.

  She’d had another one of those dreams, full of heat and hunger and lust and laughter. Ezra’s humor, that sexy innuendo as he talked to her … except, of course, he wanted to be friends.

  Because he wasn’t ready to get involved. He needed to get his head on straight—and what in the hell did that mean anyway?

  And then her dreams circled back around to that night, of the woman and her screams.

  “God.” Closing her eyes, she clenched her jaw and tried to tell herself she’d done everything she could do. There was nothing left for her to do. She’d called the sheriff’s office. She’d gone out there.

  A fat lot of good it had done.

  Down on the floor, Puck shifted, giving a little doggie yawn, followed by an impatient yip. Lena rolled onto her back and rubbed her hands over her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be up in a second,” she muttered.

  He yipped again.

  Despite herself, she had to smile.

  “Let me guess … it’s seven-oh-five.” Reaching out, she pushed the button on her clock and grinned as the voice recited the time. “Yep. Seven-oh-five.”

  The dog’s internal clock was as reliable as any man-made clock. Come 7:05, it was mealtime. She could feed him a little earlier, but never any later, not without hearing it from him. Blowing out a breath, she sat up and kicked her legs over the side of the bed.

  She needed to get up anyway.

  It might be a rainy, dreary Monday, but it was Monday.

  And on Mondays, she had a standing breakfast date.

  “Anything weird happen last night?”

  The concern in Law’s voice was a balm to her soul. Lena might not have accomplished anything with her visit to the sheriff, but Law believed her.

  He was one of her closest friends and she knew she could count on him.

  “No. Just a quiet night.”

  Quiet, but plagued by restless dreams, sex dreams and nightmares.

  They were on their way into town for breakfast at the Nook Café. For the past few years, they’d had breakfast there just about every single Monday. Although she was dead tired, she hadn’t canceled. She needed to get out of the house and relax, stop brooding.

  “You want to go by the sheriff’s office again after breakfast?” he asked.

  Lena blew out a disgusted sigh. “What would be the point?”

  “Because you deserve to have some sort of answer?”

  “They don’t have one.” She grimaced and tried to relax. Tension had her muscles tied into knots. “They didn’t see anybody, didn’t find anything. I don’t think there’s much more they can do.”

  Her hands were damp, she realized. Cold and clammy. “Look, Law, I don’t really want to talk about this right now. I need a break from it. It’s all I’ve been able to think about since it happened.”

  “Sure.” He reached over and caught her hand, squeezed it gently. Turning her palm up, she laced her fingers with his. He had strong hands, callused, gentle. Just being around him made her feel safer.

  It took twenty minutes to get to town and by the time they got there, the café was already packed. “I’m going to let you and Puck out at the door. I’m going to have to park down the street. I see Roz’s car, so she’s probably already got us a table.”

  The car stopped and Lena waited as Law hopped out. Behind him, somebody honked their horn. Rolling her eyes, Lena asked him as he opened her door, “Did you double-park?”

  “No … I’m not parking. I’m unloading,” he said. She could hear the grin in his voice. The other door opened and then shut. Puck was at her side and she gripped his lead. “Forward, Puck.”

  The rain was cold and the wind gusting down the street didn’t help. By the time she made it to the door of the café, her clothes were soaked and her hair was dripping. Puck shook himself and she scowled as he flung more water on her.

  The bell over the door chimed as she opened it.

  “Hey, Lena.”

  It was Cassie, the granddaughter of the
café’s owner. “Hi. Is Roz here?”

  “Yep. Front corner, near the windows. I’ll walk you over. Nasty day, huh?”

  Lena reached out her hand and caught Cassie just above the elbow. “Damn nasty,” she agreed as the young woman led her to Roz’s table.

  “You look like you got a little damp.”

  She snorted. A little damp. Yeah, that about described it. And now she smelled like wet dog. Shivering, she breathed out a sigh of relief as Roz called out her name and said, “I’ve already got coffee waiting for you, Lena.”

  “Gimme.” She slid into a chair as Puck settled down under the table at her feet.

  Halfway through the first cup, she started feeling almost human. “Nature is screwing with us,” she muttered. “Eighty-eight degrees one day and then sixty-two today and pouring down rain. I hate it. And I hate cold rains.”

  “You and me both,” Law said, joining them. He took the chair at her right.

  Lena reached for her coffee, but she did it a moment too late. Law had already helped himself. “Damn it, get your own coffee.”

  “That’s the thanks I get for letting you out at the door so you don’t get soaked.”

  Roz snorted. “Oh, that’s as much for your benefit as hers.”

  Tapping her fingers on the tabletop, Lena said, “If you don’t give me my damn coffee, Law, I’m going to beat you bloody.”

  “Violent woman.” He pushed the cup into her hands. She kept it close against her until he got a cup of his own.

  “I hear you had a rough weekend.” Carter, Roz’s husband of four years, spoke up, his voice low and quiet. He was a soft-spoken man and until he got to know somebody he kept to himself. That he was even asking her about her weekend was, she knew, a sign of his affection for her.

  But she still didn’t want to talk about it.

  “Rough enough,” she said, cradling her nearly empty coffee cup.