She came side by side with the huge beast and looked it in the eye, seeing her reflection in the great black orb. She ran to the harpoon, lined up the shot, but before she could fire, the whale jumped. He shot straight up in the sky, blocking out the light and she watched as he flew over her ship and began to fall.
There was nothing she could do but watch the large body hit her ship, cracking it in two. It sank fast beneath the waves, the bottomless pull of the water sucking her down. She reached up toward the sky, a pleading gesture to whatever god watched over fools, but her prayer was denied. The water closed over her head and she breathed no more.
* * * *
Charlotte sat up with a gasp and a choked cry, her heart pumping as if it meant to jump out of her chest. Moonlight streamed in through the window, producing shadows in every corner. She reached over and snapped on the bedside lamp, flooding the room with a warm glow and chasing away the last vestige of the nightmare.
Damn Moby-Dick story! It made her realize that she would never, ever visit Nantucket. With a sigh she lay back down but left the light on. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the symbolism of the dream but damned if she’d let the darkness take her again.
Chapter Fifteen
The next morning Charlotte woke up a later than usual. She hurried with her shower and left her hair damp as she hurried down the stairs. As she reached the bottom, just before she was about to greet her parents, Nash, and Jonas, she got hit with a pull and froze. The happy contentment she’d been feeling evaporated instantly as she glanced around the room.
Why would a pull be here? Anxiety sliced through her, disrupting her ability to concentrate. She turned, feeling like a wheel spinning on a car, trying to find traction. Helpless, she looked at Jonas and Nash, who rushed to her side.
“What is it?” Jonas asked.
“It’s a pull,” she said, her voice quivering. “Here. Somewhere.”
It took a moment for her words to sink in, but once they did Nash spun to her parents. “Call Alastair, make sure he and Holly are all right. Delia!” he called out loudly. “Delia!”
Immediately her sister ran down the stairs, wearing scrubs and bunny slippers. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Kira,” Charlotte whispered.
“What’s going on?” her father demanded.
Nash turned to face him. “Charlotte feels a pull.”
“What does that mean?”
“She feels a pull on an item when someone’s been murdered. She feels one here.”
James’s eyes flared wide and he pulled out his cell. He turned toward Annie. “Call Kira now,” he ordered.
While her family was busy calling the missing siblings, Jonas took Charlotte by the arms. “You have to concentrate. Find what’s pulling you.”
She swallowed and nodded, taking the warmth from his hands and using it to help steady her nerves. She took a deep breath and opened herself up. The pull was faint. She tracked it slowly, her feet leading her toward the front door. As soon as she opened it, however, it hit her hard enough to make her take a step backward.
“Oh my god,” Delia muttered.
Charlotte looked down and saw an envelope lying on the mat, her name scrawled on the top of it. With shaking hands she picked it up, the pull urging her to touch what was inside. She felt her family crowd behind her.
“Alastair’s on his way,” her father said.
“I couldn’t reach Kira,” her mother whimpered.
Charlotte heard them as if she were in a hazy tunnel, distant chattering that played like a scratchy record. She ignored them, instead concentrating on the contents of the envelope. She pulled out a piece of paper but immediately dropped it. Instead, she concentrated on the lock of blonde hair held together by a rubber band.
She pulled it out, held it up, and connected with the vision.
Brandy sat at a vanity while her mother braided her hair. The girl laughed at something her mother said, but, of course, Charlotte couldn’t hear it. Some distant part of her felt relieved that she was not seeing Kira’s vision, that the blonde hair didn’t belong to her sister, because she didn’t think she would have been strong enough to witness that.
“It’s Brandy,” she said, knowing her family was listening. “The blonde hair belongs to her. I think she’s getting ready for a heat. She’s wearing a track suit and she’s holding goggles.”
Suddenly the vision shifted and she saw Brandy at the swim club. Charlotte gasped and took a few steps back from the pool. It had been twelve years since she last saw it, but it looked exactly the same. Now, however, the grandstands were pulled out and people sat in nervous anticipation. Judges waited, the time clocks rested on zero, and swimmers warmed up.
It was a random moment in Brandy’s life, an idyllic point of time. Charlotte couldn’t see how this factored into Brandy’s death at all, until she spotted Tucker sitting on the bleachers, his gaze focused on Brady’s lithe form.
“Oh my god,” she breathed. “He watched her.”
The vision abruptly ended and she blinked, coming out of her daze. She looked around at the slack-jawed expressions on James, Annie, and Delia’s faces.
“It wasn’t Kira,” she told them, although she figured they probably knew that by now.
“It’s true,” Annie whispered, her eyes wide.
Not knowing what to say, Charlotte only nodded.
“Listen to this,” Jonas said. He held up the piece of paper that had accompanied the lock of hair. “It says ‘All men live enveloped in whale-lines. All are born with halters round their necks; but it is only when caught in the swift, sudden turn of death, that mortals realize the silent, subtle, ever-present perils of life’.”
“More Moby-Dick?” Nash questioned.
“Yeah.”
“I really hate that book,” Charlotte said. “I dreamed about whaling last night. God, I couldn’t shut it out of my brain!”
“We should check that for prints,” Nash told Jonas. “Probably nothing there, but it wouldn’t hurt. Also, maybe it’s about time we brought Tucker in for questioning.”
“I’ll call Alastair,” Jonas said and turned to head into the kitchen. He put the piece of paper down. “Do you have a plastic bag?”
Delia hurried over and opened a drawer, then gave him one. He carefully put the paper in it and sealed it shut.
Meanwhile, Annie couldn’t stop staring at Charlotte. “Is that what you do?”
“Yeah, Mom, pretty much just like that.”
“You…go into these people’s lives? You see them?”
Charlotte nodded.
“That’s got to be awful,” Annie murmured sympathetically.
“This one wasn’t too bad,” Charlotte said. “The awful ones are when they take me to their graves.”
“Oh my god,” Annie said. She enfolded Charlotte in her arms.
“It’s okay, Mom. I help a lot of people, even though they’re dead. At least it puts their families at peace when I can locate a missing loved one.”
“Thank god it wasn’t Kira,” her father said.
Annie pulled back and scowled at him. “Where is that girl? She hasn’t even called.”
“You know Kira,” James replied. “She feels bad about what she said. When she cools down she’ll be back.”
“It’s that Russian blood,” Charlotte replied. “Runs a little too temperamental.”
Her father just shot her an exasperated look that had her biting her lip.
* * * *
Whether or not her family had believed her before, they seemed to have been converted. She could see the difference whenever they looked at her. It wasn’t a bad look, just a perceived change in their perception. Over the years she had gotten used to the idea that ghosts were real, that the paranormal world existed and operated completely different than this one. For her, it gave her comfort knowing that death wasn’t the end, and that the soul never truly faded away. But she’d gotten many different reactions over the years and it was ha
rd to gauge what her family thought.
She stayed home while Nash took the letter to be analyzed. Jonas stayed with her and this time, the confinement was almost unbearable. Delia left to go to the hospital, amidst protests. Even though Tucker hadn’t hurt Kira that didn’t mean he wasn’t capable. But she went anyway, as did her parents for their daily exercise routines.
More than a little stressed out, she’d dragged Jonas upstairs to release the tension screaming through her system. She pushed him onto the bed, taking the aggressive stance with him by claiming his body with her hands and mouth, making him moan and thrash until he’d gripped her by the arms and sat her astride him. She’d ridden him hard, milking out her climax until he’d exploded with her, leaving them both drenched with sweat and satisfaction.
Dinner had been a quiet affair since they still hadn’t heard from Kira. When Nash returned he nodded upstairs to her, indicating he wanted to talk to her alone. She excused herself and hurried up the staircase, easing into her bedroom and waited.
A second later, he and Jonas entered. Jonas immediately closed the door while Nash pulled her into his arms. His mouth came down on hers in a kiss that curled her toes and made her cream her panties. She wrapped her arms around his neck, standing up on tip-toe to make sure she could feel every hard muscle of his body straining against hers. As he ravaged her mouth she wished he could ravage her body, to possess her and drive away all the doubts the past few days have invoked.
A knock on the door shocked her and Nash abruptly pulled back although he didn’t all together let go of her.
“Yes?” she squeaked out.
“No closed doors,” her mother called out.
“Oh…okay,” Charlotte replied.
A second later she heard her mother’s carpet-muffled footsteps walking away from her door. Nash leaned his forehead against hers and Jonas gave an amused chuckle.
“Wow, that made me feel like a teenager again,” Nash mused.
“What, the kiss or being caught in my bedroom?”
“Mm,” he groaned. “That’s hot.”
She shot a look at Jonas and winked at him.
“What news do you have?” Jonas asked him.
“Martell is MIA,” Nash reported grimly.
“MIA? How MIA?” Charlotte asked, her fear returning.
“His employees report he never showed up today and his cell phone seems to be off the grid,” Nash told them. “LAPD have their men out looking for him. As soon as they find him, they’ll call us.”
“Has an arrest warrant been issued?” Jonas asked.
Nash shook his head. “He’s a person of interest right now.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? The son-of-a-bitch is threatening her!”
“Believe me, I used that phrase more than once to the judge, but lack of evidence is swaying his hand,” Nash reported. “The letter had nothing on it.”
“So what do we do until then?” Jonas asked.
Nash laid a hand on his shoulder. “Keep her safe until the bastard is found.”
Jonas gave a weary nod. “We better go down before James comes up here.”
“I like this family,” Nash said with a wry smile.
“Yeah, as much as I hate to admit it, I guess we are family now,” Jonas replied.
The two exited her bedroom, leaving her full with a warm, happy feeling. She had the two men she loved. Life was near perfect. Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out. Another text but this time from Kira. Finally! Frowning, she opened it and then realized it wasn’t from Kira.
Meet us at our spot. Alone or she finds out what it feels like to drown too. You’ve got fifteen minutes, the message read.
It was signed Tucker.
She stared at the phone, not quite sure what to think. Only one thought blinked as bright as a neon sign on Broadway. He had her sister. He had Kira. She had to go. But alone, her ass. The last thing she would be crazy enough to do was meet him without a full armada of support, especially near the Olympic-size pool.
Just then her phone vibrated again and she hit the message button. A picture mail came through and her hands began to shake as she stared at Kira, bound and gagged, a look of pleading in her big blue eyes. Suddenly her resolve wavered. Would he hurt Kira if she came in with that armada?
That’s a stupid thought. Of course he will! It’s why he sent the picture. It only took one crazy man with some type of crazy agenda and she would lose her baby sister.
That was unacceptable.
She had to protect Kira from Tucker but she couldn’t be stupid about this either. But what? She paced for a moment, the phone still clutched in her hand even though the screen had gone dark. She needed to get to Tucker and reason with him before the cavalry showed up, but she had to make sure it showed up.
He wanted her, not Kira. But as for why, Charlotte wasn’t sure. To finish what he started? The thought shook her but her own safety didn’t seem as imperative when pitted against the life of her sister. She and Kira may have fought the most out of the four girls, but Charlotte loved her fiercely. And now her baby sister was in danger because of her.
All of this, everything, was her fault. Charlotte felt her heart cracking. Brandy’s death weighed heavily upon her soul. She couldn’t risk anything happening to Kira. Charlotte knew she would never be able to survive that.
Nash and Jonas would never allow her to go in by herself and talk to Tucker, make him release her sister. And there were too many variables for a gun. He could use Kira as a shield or hurt her or she could even get caught in the line of fire. All Charlotte needed was five minutes, five minutes to protect Kira. And then Nash and Jonas could come in with guns blazing. Charlotte stopped by her bed and laid the phone on the floor. Against the cream-colored carpet, it stuck out like a sore thumb.
She opened her door and glanced down the hall to make sure no one was there, and then she walked out, closing the door behind her to make for Delia’s bedroom. All the girls knew it had been the best spot to sneak out because her window overlooked the porch awning. Delia had made a little extra money charging them whenever they wanted to sneak out.
Being as quiet as possible, she pushed open the window and eased out, one leg at a time. She left the window open so Nash and Jonas would know how she got out. She carefully scooted down the sloped Spanish roof tiles that were very prevalent in Southern California. Why hadn’t she remembered how slippery they were?
Reaching the edge, she held on as she swung her legs around, dropping the last few feet and landing with a soft grunt. That had been much easier when she’d been a teenager.
Then she took off running, because she knew she only had a few minutes head start before Jonas came back to look for her. The five blocks to the swim club had never seemed so far away and she ran as hard as she could, pushing past the stitch that immediately cramped her side.
Cars were on the street, casually cruising by, and she wanted to scream and yell at them to help her. Dimly she was aware, in some far corner of her mind, that she was racing to the one place she swore never to visit again. She was voluntarily heading to that damned pool.
The thought had her halting her mad dash. Panic and fear warred with reason and bravery and she had to take a deep, calming breath. It took every bit of strength inside to take the next step.
Poetic justice had never been more cruel.
The swim club sat waiting like a forgotten gothic cathedral rising in the dark. As she wondered how the hell she was supposed to get in, she leaned against the front door to catch her breath and it swung inward against her weight. Charlotte rushed through the dark lobby, toward the locker room. Access for the pools came from there, on the other side of the showers, ensuring one would clean off before going into the water. The only light came from the overhead Exit signs, turning the shadows and black corners into pockets of sinister hiding places. She knew he wouldn’t be waiting for her, there. No, Tucker was at the pool.
She rushed through the shower area
to the pool area and came to a sliding stop. The lights were on and she saw Kira sitting on the concrete edge of the pool, her legs dangling into the water. Her arms were tied behind her back and a gag was in her mouth.
Charlotte’s heart plummeted and she didn’t even have time to process that she stood near not just a pool, but the pool where she’d almost died.
Kira met her eyes and Charlotte could see streaks of black makeup running down her face. She shook her head, as if silently urging Charlotte to stay back. But Tucker stood behind her, a large knife clutched in his hand. A smile stretched over his mouth, clearly showing his glee at having her there.
“Let her go, Tucker,” Charlotte ordered. Although she was scared out of her wits for her sister, she knew she had to keep it together.
“I will,” he said. “I never wanted to hurt her.”
“Then why do you have her?”
The smile slipped as he sighed. “I knew you’d come.”
She shot another glance at Kira. Her sister stared at her calmly. “Okay. I’m here. Cut her loose.”
He frowned and flicked a glance at Kira. “If I do that, you’ll leave.”
That had been the idea but she couldn’t tell him that. So she decided to switch tactics. “Why Moby-Dick?”
He blinked. “I admire Ahab’s conviction. He pursues what he wants most. Just like Utopia by Thomas More, a place free of immoral behavior.” His shoulders slumped and for a moment he seemed lost, like a small little boy unable to find a path home. But then he broke his solemn mood by spreading his arms wide, the overhead light making the blade of his knife gleam dull silver. “This is where it began. Don’t you remember?”
“Oh, I remember. I remember your hand in my hair holding me under until I couldn’t struggle. But this isn’t where you began, is it? You began in the ocean, drowning while surfing.”
His eyes widened. “How do you know that?”
“And then you watched Peggy Mead die, didn’t you? Or did you push her in front of the bus?”
She could see that her words shook him. He shook his head violently. “I didn’t push her. But I did watch her die and that was when I saw it.”
Breathless [McKnight, Perth & Daire 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 14
