Hell's Hilltop

by J. A. Dennam

  When she topped the stairs, Rena put the tray down on the kitchen counter. Her own turkey sandwich sat drying on a paper plate. She should be ravenous, but the thought of eating didn’t sit well.

  “How did it go?” Isak whispered beside her.

  Rena jumped, put a hand to her forehead. After a recuperative moment, she mouthed the word “outside” and headed toward the front door, expecting Isak to follow. Down the steps, into the yard, across the street and through the woods she walked until the house was far away.

  Then she stopped and faced her father’s friend while the cicadas chirped and buzzed around them. “I don’t want to hold any conversation within fifty yards of that man.” Even whispering won’t cut it, Derek had told her back at Melanie’s apartment.

  Isak nodded. “I know.”

  “I don’t think I’m going to get my confession,” she said with a level of control.

  “Yes, you will. It’s the only way we’ll both get out from under this.”

  “You’ll have an easier time proving your innocence than I will.”

  Isak lit a cigarette, leaned in. “I run a highly illegal drug lab for a branch of Lesico that doesn’t even exist. Your friends are looking for me so they can control what I produce. When they find me, I need assurances.”

  “I can vouch for you.”

  “That’s reassuring coming from a certified lunatic.”

  That hurt coming from a man she’d known most of her life. “You know I’m not crazy.”

  The ever-present buzz of tension abated somewhat as he blew a stream of smoke toward the sky. “Yes, I do know you aren’t crazy. I suspected Rafferty had you on something, but it will be impossible to prove two years later without a clear confession.”

  “I think he drugged me again last night,” Rena said, watching Isak’s reaction closely.

  Hesitation. “Are you sure? He was still very sick.”

  “I blacked out after I brought him the juice he wanted. I remember thinking he was in a lot better shape than I expected.”

  Isak offered her a drag, which she refused. “He wasn’t happy when you disappeared,” he said. “Didn’t seem convinced, either, when I told him you’d gone out on a fact-finding mission.”

  “Of course!” she spat. “Because he expected me to be high!” A deep breath steadied her nerves while the old man relied on good ole’ tobacco for the job. Rena grabbed him by the shoulders, leveled her gaze. “Can you test my blood? Find out what he used?”

  Isak’s look turned doubtful. “I’m only equipped to run a standard drug test. If that turns up clean, we’ll need to know the specific drug in order to run an individual test. In that case, we’ll need a bigger lab.”

  Which posed a new problem. “According to Sophie,” she said, “the standard tests didn’t detect anything before. That was a huge problem for my defense.” After more thought, Rena came up with the only viable answer. “Rafferty must have left his stash in your house after I went to prison. It would explain how he was able to drug me so fast last night. We need to find it. Until then, draw my blood so we’ll have it.”

  “Okay,” he finally agreed with a reassuring pat. “But I still want a chance to work a confession out of him. He’s comfortable now. In friendly territory. I can do it, you just need to give me more time.”

  Something they had very little of, especially with Rafferty’s health improving so rapidly. “Were you able to test the powder inside the capsule yet?” she asked.

  Isak took a long, thoughtful drag. “I’m working on it,” he answered as smoke billowed from his mouth. “It’ll take a little more time, but I told you last night not to get your hopes up.”

  “It was hermetically sealed,” she reminded sternly. “It could have made it all these years.”

  “Not in the glove box of a car, Rena. The extreme temperatures alone would have spoiled it, and it looked spoiled to me.”

  He sounded so sure. Rena didn’t know much about drugs, but if Sophie was still hopeful, she had cause for hope, too. “There is no way I am giving up on that sample,” she implored with her eyes as well as her words. “Not after everything we’ve been through. You have to make it work. Salvage something from it.”

  Isak ground the spent cigarette beneath his shoe with a troubled frown. “For your sake, I hope I can.”

  For Derek’s sake. Rena tamped down the lump of trepidation growing in the pit of her stomach. Without a cure, the man she considered her savior would be dependent on Nexifen until his time slowly ran out.

  CHAPTER 11

  Rena considered her options as she chewed on her dry sandwich. The fresh puncture wound between her toes reminded her why she couldn’t have blood drawn from her arm. Rafferty would notice.

  After a quick shower, she now wore some of her own clothes that had been left there after her arrest. The night before, Isak had begged her to change out of her bloody pantsuit in preparation for Rafferty’s rescue, but she’d wanted the man to see what she’d done. Show him what she was capable of.

  Black terrycloth pants and a casual zippered shirt of the same color and fabric now hugged her body like an old friend. Not for the first time¸ Rena wondered if Rafferty had picked out the ensemble. Regardless, she liked the idea of being less visible in the dark… for some reason.

  Isak reentered his ’70s time capsule through the front door from yet another trip down to the boathouse. He glanced nervously at her as she ate over the counter, birthing an instant feeling of disquiet that nagged at her psyche.

  Don’t you do it. Don’t tell me the sample is bad.

  A slight shake of his head confirmed that very thing.

  But it wasn’t a total loss. It couldn’t be. That look in his eye only meant he was nervous around her. She was unpredictable. Dangerous. He was waiting for her to crack. The pill Rafferty had ordered him to give her was an antipsychotic, but they both knew it wasn’t the right one. Rafferty wanted her slightly off balance just like before. Sane enough to comprehend, paranoid enough to manipulate. Luckily, she was clear now, having been on the right medication for—give or take—almost nine days.

  Clear enough to know whom she was dealing with.

  Rena flattened a hand over her pocket, felt the napkin she’d stuffed in there earlier.

  Plan B.

  Derek would miss the pill. Know she stole it. If things played out the way they should, she’d give it to Rafferty. But was she ready to do that? Derek kept him alive for his reasons. Isak’s points were valid. If she stayed here, she could help keep an eye on Rafferty until a confession was made.

  You can’t keep an eye on a ghost you fool! Her memories of him were sketchy at best, but she remembered how quietly he moved. A constant presence dogging her at every turn, especially after her near drowning experience with Danny Bennett. He’d nursed her back to health from the resulting case of pneumonia, pretended to care for her… just before he’d stuck a needle in her arm.

  One of those times slammed into her brain with surprising crystal clarity. It was a moment she’d recalled before, but there was more to it now, something she hadn’t quite remembered before….

  Someone moved hair from her forehead and covered it with a palm. “She’s feverish. She needs antibiotics.”

  That was Isak’s voice!

  “Get them and give them to me.” A rustling of clothes. “I’ll be the only one to administer her anything, you got that, Frost?”

  When her father’s trusted friend left, Rena heard Rafferty’s voice again as a hand stroked her hair.

  “I’ll take care of you, Rena. I’ll make sure no one finds out it was you who attacked that girl. I know you did it for me.” There was a slight brush of whiskers on her ear, then he sneered. “Your bitch of a mother is counting on me to make you well again. I wouldn’t want to disappoint her now, would I?”

  She was curled up under the quilt, shivering with fever. She felt a pinch on her arm. It hurt but she was so too sick to care.

  “That’s it,” he
crooned. “You’ll feel better in a minute. God, you’re so hot.” His cool hand felt the crook of her neck.

  Would whatever he just gave her cool the burning of her eyelids? She succumbed to the discomfort and moaned.

  “Yes,” he said, lifting the edge of the quilt. “Feel it, Rena. Let it take you.”

  Only when the cool air hit her did she realize she was naked. Soon, his body molded against her back. Before she could protest, her head began to swim, but she wasn’t too far gone to feel something soft and thick probe at her entrance from behind.

  More pain added to her misery.

  “Yes…” came his whispered moan as he invaded her. “Burning hot.”

  It was as if he got off on victimizing her simply because she was Sophie’s daughter. And he’d done it in the loft of this very house… in the bed of her father’s closest friend.

  A wave of violent rage blasted through her. All doubts about what must be done were thoroughly wiped away.

  Give it to him.

  Through a reddened haze, Rena looked at the man in the easy chair. “Isn’t Rafferty due for his next dose?”

  Isak checked his watch. “Close enough.”

  The pill practically burned a hole through her pocket. “I’ll take it to him.”

  “No, I will.” Isak got up and walked toward the bathroom. “I need to talk privately with him. You stay up here.”

  But a confession was no longer what Rena wanted. Rafferty just needed to die. Her freedom had ceased to matter the moment she learned of Crystal’s sacrifice. Now Isak’s freedom ceased to matter also.

  Rena glared at the man, remembering the pain of betrayal when she’d heard his voice for the first time, conspiring with the ruthless monster who’d raped her. As soon as the bathroom door closed behind him and locked, the temptation to keep it locked was so great, she took the first two steps in that direction.

  What are you doing? Again, she felt as if she were viewing her actions from the back seat. Her hands closed around the sides of a ladder-back chair close by. But before she could wedge it beneath the knob, the door swung open. Isak blinked at her in surprise.

  “What are you doing?” When she didn’t answer, his eyes narrowed. “Are you feeling okay?”

  She nodded, studied the chair clutched tightly in her hands… antique Country French. Recognition dawned. “This looks familiar,” she said without expression.

  The worry faded from his aging visage and Isak pushed past her. “It’s a part of the set from your parents’ dining room.”

  Her heart gave a little jolt. “Why do you have it?”

  His smile was sad. “I wanted to salvage something.”

  A chair? That’s all that was left?

  Give it to him. The voice was back, closing off the torrent of tears before it could break free.

  “We’ll talk about it when I come back up,” Isak said and, armed with Rafferty’s next dose and another glass of water, he turned toward the stairs. “This won’t take long.”

  He was leaving with a healthy dose of stimulants that would only make Rafferty stronger. The burning at her hip intensified until she could no longer deny its validity. She glanced down at her pocket. Shit! It was beginning to hurt! Reaching in, she extracted the napkin and threw it on the counter while the smaller pill she’d been given fell to the floor. As she cooled her fingertips, the napkin opened, exposing the large white pill it held.

  Give it to him.

  Fear of that supernatural voice caused her to remember all the other times it had haunted her. She always thought it was a product of her illness… until Melanie had confronted her with the proof that suggested otherwise.

  That was a nice touch, by the way, the woman had said not too long ago. The bloody message you left on that prayer guide in the church. Scared the pants off of me.

  Melanie’s visual confirmation of something Rena had believed was imaginary scared her more than the bloody message itself. It meant it was very real. Physical.

  Crazy.

  A loud shout from the stairway preceded a series of thumps and crashes. Rena raced toward the door and looked down. Isak lay squirming on the mid-level landing with broken glass littered around him. Moved by that momentary panic, Rena reached his side, helped him up.

  “What happened?” Rafferty shouted from the lower level.

  Isak’s glare bore into her with accusation. “I tripped. My ankle’s twisted.”

  “Here.” Rena tucked herself beneath his arm. “Let me help you back up.”

  As they stood together, she spotted Rafferty’s pill in the corner. “Come on. I’ll get you on the couch.” When they reached it, she set him down gently. Her confusion over Isak’s behavior was temporarily put on hold. Before he was branded a foe, she’d allow him a chance to explain his actions. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  A strange vibe radiated from the old man’s entire body, and it wasn’t nerves this time. “That depends,” Isak whispered cantankerously. “Did you mean to push me or was it an accident?”

  Alarm slid from her head down to her toes. “Push you? You said you tripped!”

  His thick curved brows drew down. “You know damn well I didn’t trip.”

  “I was in the kitchen when you fell,” Rena sputtered in her defense. “I didn’t push you.”

  “I felt your hand on my back!”

  Just as she’d felt a hand on her side earlier that morning, waking her from a deep sleep on Ty’s couch. But that hand had been gentle. Comforting.

  The pieces fell into place with haunting clarity. Her experiences seemed to multiply when her thoughts leaned toward waiting. Perhaps it would all end with Rafferty’s death. An image popped into her mind of the pill on the landing.

  Isak continued to grumble as he settled his injured leg. “If you didn’t push me, who did?”

  Rena hesitated, looked at him beneath thick lashes. Should she dare say it was a ghost? After careful consideration, she settled on her usual answer. No, of course not. It was the kind of crazy talk she couldn’t afford.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said instead.

  Clearing her conscience took little effort. With the face of a statue, she opened the cabinet, got another glass. Filled it with water. The other pill practically howled its existence on the napkin as she stared down at it.

  Give it to him.

  Rafferty was up at the window, deep in thought as he gazed out at the choppy surface of the lake. Bright afternoon light played on the fierce angles of his face as he turned his head from one side to the other. Rena imagined he was adjusting to the new limitations of his sight.

  Not that he would need it for long.

  As she stood there with his lethal dose and a glass of water, staring at him, his mouth twitched.

  “From what I hear,” he said in a meaningful timbre, “you aren’t operating on all four cylinders yet.”

  Yes, her and Isak’s eavesdropped conversation would have sounded that way to him. She produced a small smile. “I’m fine.”

  “The typical answer of someone who’s not,” he stated blandly. “I think you need something to help you relax before you kill our chemist.”

  “I didn’t push him down the stairs.”

  Rafferty finally faced her and his expression shifted into one of unease. “You look deadly to me.”

  You have no idea. Rena allowed a subtle flash of anger to pass over her face. “Maybe it’s because you’re accusing me like all the rest.”

  He chuckled, straightened to his full height. It was obvious he was doing well, almost back to normal. Afraid of nothing.

  “Come here,” he commanded.

  She did, but kept an arm’s length between them.

  His shoulders tensed beneath the filmy white undershirt he wore. Another sliver of memory pierced its way into Rena’s brain.

  Shoulders so wide there was no way around them. As he bore his full weight on top of her, she gasped for breath, struggled to clear her airway. In an act of desperat
ion, her teeth sank into the flesh just above his collarbone, but he only groaned with pleasure as he continued to take.

  “You know how I feel about you,” Rafferty said softly, breaking through her sordid recollection.

  Rena’s level of anger rose to a numbing degree. “Do I?”

  A slight tilt of the head emphasized the sincerity of his words. “I took care of you when you were at your worst. Saw you through your toughest times. Protected you from Sophie.”

  Or so he’d wanted her to believe.

  Rafferty must have sensed her doubt because he approached her with purpose. “You know that or you wouldn’t have come for me last night.”

  He reached for her closed fist. She uncurled her fingers, let him take what she held.

  “Thank you, Rena,” he said slowly before putting the pill in his mouth.

  As he tipped the glass and drank, sunlight gleamed in glorious distortion through the water inside it.

  Her lips curved slightly. “You’re welcome.”

  CHAPTER 12

  When Rena attempted to take the empty glass from Rafferty, he put it on the windowsill and grabbed her arm instead. His gaze slithered over her body, rested on the zipper-pull above her chest. “We need to talk.”

  She looked down at the meaty fingers holding her captive.

  He indicated a faded plaid armchair nearby. “Sit down.”

  “What for?”

  As soon as her rear hit hard cushion, he boxed her in. “I can’t let you go back up there without knowing you’re stable.”