by T. M. Cromer
“Rot in hell, you rat bastard!” she cried hoarsely.
“You’ll come around. They always do.”
Her face went numb.
They? Did that mean he’d done this to other women? Dull, amenable Don Acker was a serial kidnapper and rapist? She wondered how many women, and what had happened to them when he was done with them. Gabriel had tried to tell her Don was dangerous, and only in recent months, had she begun to believe it.
Margie started to shake uncontrollably. Her teeth chattered, and not an inch of her flesh wasn’t covered in goose bumps. Should she try to appeal to whatever human part of that fucker remained? Maybe this was what he’d meant when he said those ominous words. Perhaps unable to withstand the cold, his victims would trade a favor for a robe.
Disgust curled her lip at the idea of sex with the little weasel-faced puss pocket. Hypothermia would take her before she begged.
She squeezed her eyes shut and thought of the one thing that would warm her—Gabriel’s love. She’d been so stupid. It only took being held prisoner and chained to a rock wall for all of five minutes for her to realize the tapes had to have come from Don, and he must’ve found a way to doctor them. He’d caught her at a low point and played on her uncertainty. Like a dumbass, she fell for it.
Another, older memory pushed to the forefront of her mind. Don. They’d known each other before. It had to have been at least two hundred years ago. London.
She struggled to recall his name. Ronald? Roland?
Richard.
During her first season, he’d developed a fascination with her, becoming completely obsessed after only a handful of social gatherings.
She shuddered when she recalled the events of the past.
He’d abducted her then, too, but Gabriel, in his incarnation as Hugh Markham, had saved her. Dueling with and running Richard through in the process.
No wonder the two men hated each other!
Even without the ability to remember, animosity sometimes remained. Because the shadow of hate had lived between them before, it would linger and feel like a living, breathing thing between them in every lifetime.
Gabriel had been her savior then. How could she have been so foolish to believe he would ever betray her? He never had—not in any lifetime. He’d been loyal and her staunchest supporter. Always.
If she ever made it out of this prison, she’d apologize for ever doubting him.
Margie shivered.
The cold brought her back to the present and to thoughts of escape. She supposed she could play on Don’s ego and try to con him into believing she cared about him. But she’d have to play it perfectly or risk him wondering why she went from cursing him to fawning in a short time span.
Another possibility was to find a way to utilize one of her siblings’ gifts. Annie would be the best bet for feeling Margie’s terror and physical discomfort. Sammy might be able to get a vision of where she was being held, but Margie didn’t hold out hope her sister would be lucid enough to act on any premonitions.
More recently, Margie had discovered Jamie possessed the ability to speak to spirits. She could try to beseech Don’s past victims seek her brother out, but it would be impossible to know if it worked since she didn’t have Jamie’s gifts.
All she knew was Gabriel couldn’t save her this time.
Her eyes burned with unshed tears.
Her situation was hopeless. Any ideas were far-fetched and a pipe dream at this point. Margie would need her own plan because the reality of being found by anyone else was slim to none.
She could only recall feeling this horrendously cold and powerless once before. In another life, the night she sat huddled on a lifeboat with her sister.
April 1912 -
Lucy and Rosie, sandwiched among others, shared a blanket and a prayer for a miracle. Entreating God to somehow, someway, save Sebastian and Andrew from the sinking vessel in the distance.
Her bones ached from the freezing temperature, and she gritted her teeth in an effort to stop them clanking together. Her sister’s tears froze where they rolled off the sides of her devastated face. But Lucy couldn’t cry. She sat wide-eyed and disbelieving of the maritime disaster she was witnessing.
Titanic had gone dark. Screams of pain and people’s pleas echoed across the open air. Even those were growing fainter. The horrific creaking and shuddering sounds as the ship broke in half were not ones she’d forget.
Somewhere on that ship, a man she loved with all her heart was trapped.
Rosie begged the crew to return, but they studiously ignored her. As if by not making eye contact, they wouldn’t have to acknowledge and consider her heart-wrenching pleas.
Lucy knew going back for survivors risked their lifeboat capsizing from those who would attempt to save themselves. For this reason, Sebastian and Andrew wouldn’t have a true chance of survival. The suction of the sinking ship would drag them down. Should they miraculously make it off alive and get clear of the watery vacuum, the frigid sea would surely kill them.
Never before had Lucy considered death. But her heart was shattering in her chest, and she wondered what it would be like to slip over the side of the craft they were on. To let the icy water suck her under. To join Sebastian in his watery grave. Right now, it was impossible to consider going on without him. She didn’t want to.
The bitter cold permeated the blanket and the coat she wore underneath. A mere taste of what Sebastian and Andrew must be experiencing.
Lucy lifted her eyes to survey the shell-shocked expressions of her lifeboat companions. Molly Brown sat, facing her. Dark splotches of red were the only color on her pale skin. Earlier, she’d been kind to them and had taken charge, helping Lucy and Rosie secure a seat on the lifeboat. Now, her eyes were as haunted and horrified as the rest of the passengers around them.
“Can’t we go back? Please?” Rosie cried. “Andrew might be alive.”
Lucy couldn’t disconnect her tortured gaze from Molly. They both knew the chances were slim. But a firm resolve entered Molly’s eyes, and she made a case for going back to search for survivors. Besides Lucy and Rosie, no one else was willing to take the risk.
Molly’s strident tones could be heard echoing over the expanse of water as she cursed those around her for the cowards they were. The other occupants of the lifeboats around them turned their heads away as she argued the boats weren’t filled to capacity. Molly tried to shame the crew into turning their boat toward where the bodies of their fellow passengers now bobbed in the water.
The cries for help grew fewer and further between. Within twenty minutes, all but a handful of voices were silenced forever. The commander of lifeboat fourteen pulled alongside and urged survivors to transfer into other boats.
In her urgency to comply, Lucy slipped and forcefully crashed into the solid edge. Pain, sharp and savage, radiated from her rib cage, and it became difficult to breathe in any other way than a shallow pant. To complain was out of the question when the dying bobbed in the icy sea surrounding them.
Later, she discovered only four men were rescued. None were Sebastian or Andrew.
It wasn’t until Lucy was on the RMS Carpathia, being treated for her injury, that she allowed her tears to finally fall.
Chapter 26
Margaret had been gone for almost a complete day. Twenty-three long, torturous hours. The one thing playing over and over in Gabriel’s mind was what James had later revealed to them. Not only had Margaret been taken, but Sammy swore she was chained to the wall in her bedroom in a basement-cave. What that even meant, Gabriel had no clue. Most likely nothing. But he couldn’t dismiss the idea Margaret had been abducted.
Don Acker was the only suspect who came to mind.
Police reports were filed, by the female officer who’d responded to Margaret’s attack. In her eyes was resignation and a gentle understanding. Without a doubt, she’d seen this type of thing before. Gabriel couldn’t bring himself to ask how those other incidents had played out. He was
a criminal attorney, and he’d seen too much. Way too many similar situations to hold out any hope.
Don had disappeared. His alarm-company employees had sworn they hadn’t seen him in days and had no knowledge of his whereabouts. One female employee had gotten up the courage to complain about his high creep factor and how he’d insisted on being alerted to any activity on one particular account—Margaret Holt’s.
Gabriel hated himself for not considering this outcome. They’d all played right into his hands, and the realization Don had outsmarted them didn’t sit well.
“We know there are no basements or caves in this area. Are you sure that’s what Sammy said? A basement-cave?”
James cast him a weary look and nodded.
It wasn’t like Gabriel hadn’t had him clarify the question multiple times, but he still couldn’t wrap his head around this madness. “Where does that leave us?”
Margaret’s brother continued to dig into his plate of eggs and sausage, and the smell turned Gabriel’s stomach. He couldn’t recall when he’d last eaten. Of course, he must’ve because Grey had been quietly preparing meals for him and Margaret’s family since this whole nightmare began.
James swallowed before answering. “North? Georgia maybe. I don’t think he’d want to risk driving a long way with her. I’d say five to eight hours max. Otherwise, he takes a chance of needing to stop for bathroom breaks, gas, things of that nature.”
“I agree. So we start looking in Georgia. Perhaps see if we can find property in Don’s name in any of the counties closest to the state line. Somewhere the ground might support a cave and still be stable enough to build a basement.”
“I’ll talk to a few contractors I know. They may be able to tell us where a home can be built into or against a mountain. Sammy said ‘cave,’ but it could be a simple stone wall.”
“Christ, this is hopeless, isn’t it?”
“No,” James said sharply. His expression softened marginally. “Not for us. Not for the gifts we possess. Opal wants me to tell you to stay strong.”
Gabriel took an involuntary step back and cast a wary glance around, unsure if he expected to see his aunt or not. “I still find it difficult to wrap my head around your family’s ‘gifts.’”
“No one has an inkling but those closest to us. It’s not like we advertise. But they’re real, Gabe. As surely as I’m sitting here.” He gave a half smile. “The false bottom drawer in the dresser didn’t prove it?”
“Lucky guess,” Gabriel retorted, although they both knew it wasn’t. “So my aunt can’t tell us the who, what, where of what happened to Margaret?”
James cocked his head and seemed to be listening. “She said you know who and why. But she can’t tell us where. That’s for us to discover.”
“Why? Why not?” Gabriel slapped his hand on the table and glared his frustration. “This is Margaret’s life we’re talking about. Our life. The lives of her children.”
“I get it.” James looked as annoyed as he felt. “But she doesn’t know, Gabe. Whatever happened, this has to play out.” His gaze shifted to the space next to Gabriel. “She said when we find Margie, we need to be loving and understanding. Opal says to not give up.”
His head came up, and he pinned James with a hard stare. “When we find her? So we will?” His voice cracked, but he wasn’t embarrassed.
“Opal believes it to be true.”
Gabriel could’ve wept his relief. But doubts soon crept in.
Stephen had assured him the man they were dealing with wasn’t rational. Don was sick. The average person didn’t enact a crime this terrible, especially against someone they claimed to care about. No, Don had most likely fixated on Margaret years ago, and Gabriel’s arrival on the scene had been a catalyst to force the other man’s hand.
“I’m worried what her mental state will be when we get her back. I also find it highly probable she won’t want anything to do with me.”
“I think by the time this is over, she’ll realize either Don, or someone he hired, was the one who doctored the video, Gabe.” The compassion in James’s voice nearly closed Gabriel’s throat. His eyes burned, but he refused to give in to his overly emotional response. When they had Margaret back where she belonged, he could lose it. Until then, he had her children’s welfare to see to, along with heading up the search to find her whereabouts.
Grey entered the meeting room followed by Gordon. His brothers brought coffee and fresh croissants. Other than to whip up breakfast for James this morning, Grey’s restaurant remained closed due to their family emergency.
“Grey, you don’t have to keep your place shut down.”
“Be quiet. I’m not arguing this again. It’s just for a few days, most of my regulars will understand. I’ve given my staff paid leave for the duration. We’re good.”
Gabriel squeezed his little brother’s wrist in gratitude.
James pushed aside his plate and reached for one of the four coffees. As he added cream and sugar to his drink, he gave Grey and Gordie a rundown of their earlier conversation and the message from Opal.
Both of Gabriel’s brothers stiffened and cast a cautious look around, and he almost laughed at the similarity in their reactions. A ghostly Opal was a bit much to take in.
“I want to give the children the opportunity to remain at home, James.” Gabriel rolled his shoulders and reached for a coffee. “According to Stephen, they need the security of their standard routine.”
“I don’t see where that’s a problem. I can bring Sammy’s dog over and crash there.”
“I thought I’d stay there, too. To show a united front and maybe ease their minds. They have to be feeling uncertain and scared.”
James gave him a half smile. “Kaley adores you, man. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled if you stick around.”
“I didn’t want it to be weird, but I need…” Gabriel broke off when the sentiment clogged his throat and threatened to choke him. What he couldn’t seem to voice was, yes, he wanted to be there for the children, but he needed them just as much. Needed any small connection to Margaret.
They all glanced away to allow him time to compose himself.
“First things first, Gabe. You’re going home, and you’re going to try to sleep.” Grey, the damned mother hen, held up his hand and shook his head to stave off the impending argument. “You’ve hardly slept since the party and your fight with Margie, have you? I know for a fact you haven’t since she disappeared.”
“I’ll sleep when she’s back.”
“You aren’t doing her any good this way,” Gordie said, adding his two cents. As the middle child, he tended to be quieter. Or maybe it was the artist in him. Either way, when he spoke, he intended to be heard. “I’m driving you home.”
Gabriel lifted his coffee. “As if I’ll sleep after this.”
“It was decaf.”
“Fine.” He scowled his irritation at his brothers and climbed to his feet.
James made a point to catch his eye. “I’ll have that list of locations by the time you wake up. Count on it.”
“Thank you,” Gabriel said gruffly. “Let’s go, Gordie.”
“And eat something.” Grey bundled two croissants in a cloth napkin and tossed it to him.
His stomach rumbled its agreement.
Gabriel fell into a fitful sleep. Images of Margaret being tortured, of being cold and hungry, of lying in a pool of her own blood, all took turns haunting his dreams. He woke drenched in sweat with a hoarse scream on his lips.
As he lay there, staring at the evening shadows collecting on his ceiling, he tried to drum up the energy to go next door and check on Kaley and the boys. But he couldn’t. Their grandparents were with them, so he wasn’t overly worried.
Instead, he rolled over and surrendered to the uncontrollable urge to cry. He bit his pillow to muffle the noise, so if anyone was in the other room, they wouldn’t hear.
A whiff of vanilla and orange blossoms drifted to him, and he put the pillow to h
is nose. Margaret’s unique scent flooded his senses, and Gabriel closed his eyes, trying to recall the last time they were happy together, before everything went drastically wrong.
He rubbed his cheek against the pillowcase and tried to pretend it was her silky soft hair. But he couldn’t play make-believe when she was scared and alone in the clutches of a madman. Pain seared his insides and made taking a deep breath difficult. The only hope he held was Opal’s assurance Margaret would be found.
He dozed off again.
This time, his dreams were just as tragic, but Margaret wasn’t the victim.
April 1912 -
Sebastian trailed off his conversation with the attendant who’d escorted him into the dining room. The dark-haired woman in royal blue, captured his attention immediately and refused to let it go. He’d been positively poleaxed by her beauty and shy innocence from the moment he saw her walk aboard the Titanic earlier. She simply captivated him, and he couldn’t look away.
Even before meeting her at their dining table, he’d experienced a strong wave of déjà vu, as if he knew exactly how she’d respond to his every teasing comment or hot glance. The sense of familiarity refused to be dismissed. When he discovered, in passing, she was on her honeymoon, he wanted to howl his grief. Convinced he was a fool, but unable to help himself, he’d arranged to be seated at the same table each evening.
It didn’t take long to discover hers was merely a marriage of convenience, and from the moment he’d learned it, he planned his seduction. When they landed in America, he fully intended to steal her away. To help her obtain a divorce so the two of them could be together, because they shared one soul.
Their one brief moment of dissension came when Lucy believed he’d gotten cozy with her sister. Convincing Lucy that Rosalie held no appeal for him after he’d set eyes on her wasn’t easy, but she finally came around. It was the same night her sister disappeared, and Lucy begged Sebastian to help with her search.
