by Mary Eason
They were getting nowhere. If he stayed the night, he wouldn’t be strong. Couldn’t do what Ed demanded. He needed to leave.
He’d untangled her arms. “I’m sorry, Kara, I can’t. It’s only for a little while. We just need to put some distance between us for a bit,” he pleaded with her.
He looked at her. Tears streamed down her face. Her next words shattered what little hope he had left.
“Davis, I can’t stay in DC. I won’t. Not like this.” He almost didn’t catch the words. Her voice was little more than a whisper.
Dear God, it felt like goodbye. “Please, don’t do this, Kara. I promise you this won’t be forever.”
But she’d needed reassurances from him he couldn’t give her—should have given her.
He’d gone back to her apartment the next day and found it empty of her personal things. She’d left without so much as a goodbye and he’d let her go, thinking he was doing what was best for her even though for a long time, he wasn’t sure he’d survive her absence from his life. He’d promised himself he’d go after her someday. Days turned to months then years, and he wondered all sorts of crazy things. Had she moved on? Was she married? Did she hate him as much as he hated himself for not following through on that promise?
This wasn’t the way he’d imagined their reunion.
When the captain announced the flight’s departure, Davis turned off his cell phone and laptop. The files called out to him but he couldn’t look at them yet.
Rachel had been the deciding factor for him. He knew with her death it was over. He’d never be the same again. He’d seen too much. Once they’d solved these copycat cases, he’d leave the Bureau once and for all.
Because of his personal connection to Rachel, Ryan had taken over as lead investigator in her death. Ed didn’t want a repeat of the negative press associated with the Death Angel case. With Ryan in the lead, they were conducting the investigation by the book.
Unfortunately, Davis had soon discovered he had a personal relationship with all the latest victims. The first vic had been a fellow recruit from his Quantico days. She’d been in the same class as Davis and Ryan. The other was a one-night encounter he’d met at a bar on a night out with Ryan. As much as Davis wanted to believe this might only be some bizarre coincidence, he knew better. And he feared the worst. The Angel had decided to make this thing personal.
Six years ago everyone but Kara believed Frankie Shepard was the Death Angel. Frankie had died when his car plunged into the Potomac after a high-speed chase, even though his body was never recovered. At the time, Kara had been adamant Frankie was not capable of such violence and that they were, in a sense, framing an innocent man. She’d been alone in her beliefs. Now, Davis had begun to see the holes in that theory.
If Frankie hadn’t been the Death Angel, then where had he been for the past six years? All of the FBI profilers believed serial killers thrived on attention. They loved hearing about their crimes in the press. So why had it taken him so long to resurface?
Davis closed his eyes and tried to nap. What awaited him in El Paso would be an emotional tug-of-war. But sleep once again proved elusive.
When the seatbelt light went off, he pulled out the folders, glancing around briefly before opening them. The gruesome details contained in those folders would shock most normal people.
The first new victim, Amanda Shelly, bore a striking resemblance to the original Angel death. The most compelling piece of evidence that the Angel might still be alive came from the names of the victims. They correlated with the names of the Angel’s first victims. Whoever was doing this enjoyed taunting them, flaunting his victims before them—just like before. But more frightening to him was the name yet to come. Kara’s name. Without a doubt, Davis knew the Angel would come after her again.
Chapter Two
“Hey, where are you? Are you not coming in to work again today?” Justine Yamez’s nineteen-year-old voice filtered through the noise in Kara’s head.
“Hi. No, Justine, I’m not feeling very well. I think I’ll take today off as well. Can you handle things on your own again?” Of course, Kara knew she could.
Located in one of the more exclusive shopping areas in El Paso, Kara’s boutique, like all the others in the area, had been experiencing a slump in sales due to the time of year and the economy. Late Indian summer by most business terms meant a lull in customers.
“Sure. Are you coming down with something? It’s not like you to miss two days in a row.”
Justine’s arrival in her life had been an answer to prayer. When she walked into Kara’s shop two years earlier asking for a job, she proceeded to make Kara’s job easier, not to mention more entertaining. Now, at nineteen, Justine was at a crossroads in her life. She wasn’t quite ready for college yet. Instead, Justine decided to take a year off from school against her family’s wishes. Her father, the corporate attorney, wanted Justine to follow his example like all the other Yamez children were doing. But Justine’s heart leaned more along the lines of relief work abroad.
“I’m fine. I just overdid it yesterday.” Kara didn’t miss Justine’s girlish giggle and somehow she resisted the urge to remind Justine, once again, that she and Paul Juarez, the captain of her co-ed baseball team, were just friends.
“Okay, I get it,” Justine added at Kara’s pointed silence. “But for crying out loud would you date again? Or just sleep with the guy. What’s it going to hurt? He certainly wants you badly enough. You need to start having some fun before you shrivel up inside.”
Justine believed in living in the moment. Kara wished she could be so carefree. Unfortunately, the past stood heavily in her way.
Everyone around town believed Ava to be the product of Kara’s failed marriage to a make-believe ex-husband named Adam Bryant, who’d later passed away. It seemed easier to make up a normal past than try to explain her history. Only the Apache people suspected the truth.
Once Kara hung up from Justine, she walked outside to the back deck and sat down. Her head throbbed with pain. Had since Ryan arrived in her life yesterday bringing unwelcome news that seem to confirm what she already knew in her heart. The Angel had returned.
The voices of the dead called out to her from their resting place in her closet where she’d tossed the photos after Ryan had left the day before. It had taken all her willpower to pick them up and put them away.
Although Ryan didn’t initially say as much, Kara knew there were others. Two others to be exact. Rachel would just be his latest. But they all cried out to her, along with Rachel, the ex-wife of the man she both hated and loved.
Kara had no idea how long she’d been sitting like that. She wasn’t sure why she’d kept the folder in the first place. She should burn it before Ava got home from school, be done with it once and for all but she couldn’t bear to touch it. If she touched them, she would feel their pain. And in experiencing their pain, they would become real to her. She’d want to do something to help them. She couldn’t. She’d left that part of her life behind in DC. She was a mother now—a boutique owner. She was no longer a psychic.
As much as Kara tried to block out the voices of the dead, she tried even harder to break the link between her grandmother and herself. She couldn’t talk to Maggie about this and not fall apart. And she couldn’t fall apart for Ava’s sake.
When the phone rang once more, Kara didn’t need to look at the caller ID to know it would be her grandmother. She ignored the phone and listened as the answering machine picked up. Maggie never left messages. She detested modern technology.
Silently, Kara promised to call her back later.
It felt as if hours had passed, but in fact it was barely noon and she didn’t know what to do with herself. Too much empty time for thinking.
Kara’s thoughts went to Davis. If she picked up the phone, would she be able to reach him? Would he even want to hear from her?
Slowly she dialed the familiar number to the VCIRD headquarters and waited.
&nbs
p; “Good afternoon, VCIRD’s DC Division. How may I direct your call?” the pleasant voice of the receptionist inquired politely.
“Agent Davis Martin, please.”
The silence following her request lengthened along with Kara’s fears. One click, followed by another then another before the receptionist questioned, “May I ask who is calling, please?” It took Kara longer than it should to realize what the clicking noise represented, but when she did, she slammed the receiver down.
Idiot! She’d been out of the game far too long. She’d grown rusty. Davis’s ex-wife had just been murdered. Of course they’d monitor his calls for clues.
Kara still stood with the cordless handset in her hand when it rang again, and she feared the worst. Surely not enough time had passed to trace the call. Still, she couldn’t pick up.
The answering machine clicked on and her grandmother’s frantic voice came into her living room.
“Kara, it’s your grandmother. Kara, if you’re there, pick up. Child, don’t do it. Don’t take the case. Don’t go back to the past with—”
“Gran, I’m here.” Kara answered the call, wanting only to reassure her grandmother.
“Don’t take the case. It’s too dangerous for you.”
Of course Kara knew what her grandmother meant. After all, they both shared the bond of vision.
“I’m not. I’m not taking the case, Gran.” Kara paused for the moment before asking slowly, “What have you seen?”
“It doesn’t matter.” This meant it had been bad. Whenever her grandmother refused to share something, it was bad.
“Tell me, Gran.” She remained silent. “Is Ava in danger?”
Dear God…no.
“I don’t know, but you are.” Kara drew much-needed air into her lungs. She couldn’t go through this again. She’d almost died the last time.
“Not like that, child. It’s far worse than that. Don’t go there, Kara.”
She wanted to press for answers but she knew Maggie wouldn’t reveal them to her.
“I’m not taking the case, Gran,” she said instead.
“Thank God.” Maggie paused for a moment before asking, “You’ve seen him again, haven’t you? He isn’t dead.”
“Gran, Frankie Shepard is dead. He died that night. That’s over. Whoever is doing this now is just a copycat. They’ll catch him.”
“You don’t believe that. I can tell it in your voice. You always believed they framed the wrong man.”
“They’ll catch him,” Kara repeated once more, and really tried this time to mean it.
“Without your help?”
“Yes, without my help.”
El Paso, Texas appeared to be little more than a place for the desert sand to collect in the middle of nowhere.
Why in God’s name had she come here? The heat assaulted Davis the second he walked out of the airport terminal.
Dry desert heat.
Inside the rental car, the temperature felt blistering. Even though it was early evening, the heat showed no sign of letting up.
And Davis didn’t have any idea what to say to Kara.
What do you say to someone you haven’t seen in six years? How’ve you been? Oh, and by the way, why didn’t you tell me I have a child?
He left the airport, still not ready to go to her just yet. He knew very little about her life here. She might be involved with someone. The thought was not nearly as terrifying as the possessiveness he felt at the thought of her with someone else.
He passed rows and rows of fast-food joints along the highway leaving the airport. Davis pulled in to one and got out. He found a phonebook but she wasn’t listed.
Kara didn’t want anyone finding her.
Ryan had told him she owned a small boutique in town. He flipped through the yellow pages until he found the name of the shop. In Bloom.
He called the number and waited through the fifth ring before the answering machine picked up. Hearing Kara’s voice again after so long took him back to other times. He loved the sound of her voice. Soft and sexy, that Texas drawl drove him crazy and reminded him of what it had been like making love to her. The way she whispered his name when he held her close.
Now her sexy voice informed him the store’s hours were from nine to six. Davis hung up and glanced at his watch. Just barely five thirty.
He went back to the rental, punched the location of the shop into the GPS, and drove to the small shopping center in a more upscale section of town where he spotted In Bloom.
Ryan told him there had been a light blue BMW SUV parked in front of her house. He could only assume it belonged to Kara. The SUV wasn’t here, only a bright orange VW Bug.
He parked next to the Bug, walked up to the shop’s door, and opened it. As he went inside, a tiny bell above the door announced his presence to the only person still in the place. A young woman, who barely looked old enough to legally work, stood behind the counter counting the money in the register. She didn’t look at him until she’d tallied the last bill.
Her Mexican heritage was revealed in her long, flowing black hair, dark eyes and a flawless olive complexion. The combination made her appear fragile, exotic.
For a moment, she didn’t say anything until she’d finished counting, then she looked his way. He could tell his appearance had her curious. He didn’t fit in.
She stepped from behind the counter and came over to where he stood pretending to look through a group of women’s blouses.
“May I help you find something?” She smiled as he fumbled with a hanger. When her eyes met his, something registered, almost as if she recognized him. Impossible. When had he become this paranoid?
“No, I’m actually looking for Kara. Is she here?”
Her dark eyes bored into his. She answered his question with one of her own. “How do you know Kara?”
An uncomfortable second ticked by while he tried to decide how much information he’d have to divulge to this woman to get her to cooperate. “She’s an old friend.”
The girl remained immobile, staring him down, then a slow, knowing grin spread across her face and she giggled. “Well, well. So you’re what she’s been hiding. I always knew it had to be good. No one moves to this God-forsaken place deliberately, not without having a very good reason. I’m guessing you’re Kara’s reason.”
“I beg your pardon?” Davis tried not to reveal anything.
“She’s not here,” she added without explanation.
“Where is she?”
The girl didn’t answer. She just stared back at him, unnerving him.
“I just want to talk to her.”
“Uh huh. Well, you’ll have to do better than that. So, who are you and why do you want to talk to Kara? And more importantly, why doesn’t she want to talk to you?”
When Davis left the shop, he headed back in the same direction he’d come. He’d learned, among other things from Justine Yamez, that Kara hadn’t gone in to the shop in two days. Maybe after seeing Ryan the day before and hearing about Rachel, she would have kept right on running.
God no.
He waited another fifteen minutes before considering a possible plan. The girl promised to keep her mouth shut, but how much weight did he place in that promise? After all, she considered Kara her friend as well as her boss.
Ryan said Kara insisted she no longer possessed the gift but Davis didn’t believe that for a minute.
Kara had hated it from day one. But she’d told him on countless occasions it wasn’t something that ever went away. She’d certainly tried enough in the past to block out the images.
So, if he went there now, would she see him coming and run? The gift was a strange thing, usually limited to violent crimes. The only exception had been the Angel case. She’d never been able to see him, only the evil surrounding him.
Davis decided he didn’t want to take any chances. He’d wait until dark at least. Hopefully give himself some advantage.
He pulled into a Mini Mart parking spot and g
rabbed a Red Bull drink. Davis had stopped smoking after the first Angel case. But with the long grueling hours he’d put in recently trying to solve the new cases, and the unspeakable evil surrounding the death of people he’d known personally, he needed some vice. The caffeine in the drink seemed to do the trick and beat the hell out of smoking again.
Davis stood outside the Mini Mart loitering, while those passing by easily pegged him for an outsider. The suit and sunglasses made them suspicious. He hadn’t taken the time to change. His mind had been on what lay ahead.
The caffeine, added to the stress of the day, churned inside his empty stomach. He needed food to counteract their effects. Davis ignored the fast-food joints, choosing a somewhat nicer restaurant instead where he hoped to find a quiet table to think about what to say to her.
But too many other thoughts pressed down on him.
God, he wished he could understand how he’d become so enmeshed in this thing. Why had the killer—because he couldn’t accept that the Angel might still be out there somewhere waiting to make a fool out of all of them all over again—chosen to make Davis as well as Kara part of his gruesome game this time?
Chapter Three
Ava had been grumpy and sullen since Kara picked her up at the bus stop hours earlier. She complained about the homework Miss Clopay assigned and took no interest in their usual evening routine of reading. When Ava’s bedtime finally rolled around, Kara’s nerves were raw from trying to remain patient with her daughter.
“Okay, little girl, off to bed you go.” When faced with going to her room, Ava’s sullenness turned to tears. She clung to her mother’s waist and sobbed.
“Mommie, I can’t sleep in there! There are too many noises!” Kara’s pulse skipped a beat at her daughter’s confession.
She picked Ava up in her arms, “Honey, what are you talking about? What noises?” The only sound in the house came from the low murmur of the TV in the living room.
Please, God, not the voices of the dead…
“The coyotes are howling outside again,” was Ava’s tearful response. At least Kara could breathe again.
