Cold Touch

by Leslie Parrish

  Mick smashed his index finger on the print button. “He bought it three years ago, a big section of woodland west of I-95, between here and Brunswick.”

  Gabe had already grabbed the page off the printer and was punching the address into his GPS.

  “I guess we’re not exactly doin’ this by the book?” Derek asked.

  Gabe knew what he meant and realized he’d completely put aside his job as a police officer. He wasn’t waiting for a damn warrant or for anybody’s permission or approval. He was going out there, finding Olivia and bringing her home.

  She’d left.

  Olivia hadn’t even quite managed to accept Sunni’s vile betrayal as truth before she’d heard the woman scream at her cousin, then get in her car and drive away. Leaving Olivia here to die. This woman who’d babysat her as a child, who’d pushed her and Brooke on the swings, who’d been to family dinners and shared holidays and who slept in her father’s bed had abandoned her to the ruthless hands of a psychotic monster. Not once, but twice.

  The woman had pretended to love Dad, but people like Sunni didn’t understand the concept of love. If she were capable of any kind of real emotion, she wouldn’t have been able to just drive away from here, knowing her cousin would never leave Olivia alive to testify against either of them.

  Olivia had been waiting for Johnny to come back, but so far, he hadn’t. After the car had driven away, he’d yelled, “Seeya later, O-livvv-eee-a. Time for my supper.” He’d stomped up the stairs and gone inside, the door slamming shut behind him.

  Alone in the dark, she remained alert, preparing. Sunni’s presence had caught her off guard, but she still had the knife, which she’d now begun to scrape on a tiny rock, sharpening the blade. “It’s not over yet,” she whispered.

  Suddenly, she heard a noise, a low, scraping sound from outside. She tensed, trying to determine where it had come from, sure only that it had not been from the direction of the camper. That squeaky door had remained firmly shut, and not a single footstep had crushed against the gravel.

  “Olivia?”

  She tensed. Sunni.

  The woman had come back, obviously on foot, and crept up to the back of the shed.

  “I’m going to get you out.”

  Olivia hated the woman, wanted more than anything to tell her to go screw herself, but no way was she going to turn away a chance of rescue.

  “How?” she asked.

  “I have spare keys to everything out here.”

  Johnny had given her a spare key to his torture chamber. There was familial love for you.

  “I have to work fast once I go around to the front; if he looks out the window, he’ll see me. Just be ready to run as soon as I get the door open.”

  Olivia moved to the door, stretching a little, flexing her calves, testing how quickly she could bring up the knife.

  No, she didn’t intend to use it on Sunni—not that the thought wasn’t tempting.

  She was going after Jack.

  Finally, after what seemed like forever, she heard the clink of the chain and the rattle of the lock. Sunni muttered a curse—obviously the wrong key—then tried again. And again.

  “Hurry,” Olivia ordered, wondering how long it would be before Johnny looked outside.

  “There!” The chain moved, separated, and the door slowly opened.

  Sunni stood there, staring at her with guilty, tear-filled eyes ringed by dark circles where her makeup had smeared. She stepped out of the way, letting Liv out, then carefully pulled the door closed again, looping the lock over the chain.

  Liv darted around behind the shed, crouching down, waiting for Sunni to finish. Once she had, she joined her, sniffling. She reached out, trying to take Olivia’s hand.

  Liv yanked back. “Don’t touch me.”

  “Livvie, I’m so sorry.”

  “Shut up. I don’t want to hear it.”

  “I know you hate me, and you have reason to. But please, at least believe that I never meant for you to get hurt. Johnny was supposed to get the money and let you go.”

  Sure. Trust the psychotic to do the right thing. “Yeah, right.”

  “You don’t understand how it was for Johnny and me. We grew up together in foster care. We never had anything and just wanted a little money to make a new start.”

  “Cry me a fucking river.”

  As if realizing there was no way Olivia was going to listen to her, Sunni let out a self-pitying sigh, then said, “Come on. My car’s about a half mile away, through the trees.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Olivia said. “Not without Jack.”

  She’d run the last time, sure she’d be back in time to save a helpless boy. He’d paid for it with his life. She wasn’t making that mistake again.

  Her cousin’s child; Zachary had been this woman’s relative, too.

  “You’re delirious,” Sunni whispered. “He hit you in the head. John Zachary is dead. He’s been dead for twelve years.”

  “Murdered by your loving cousin.”

  “You’re wrong. He died in an accident,” Sunni replied, shaking her head. She had obviously been telling herself a fairy tale so she could sleep at night. “Johnny loved his son. He would never have hurt him.”

  “Yeah, but he did hurt him,” Olivia snarled. “He lost his temper, got furious because he thought Jack had betrayed him by letting me go, and he murdered him.”

  And he’d been doing it again, every four years, ever since.

  “No, no!” Sunni insisted.

  Disgusted by the bitch’s self-delusions, Liv sneered. “You really don’t know anything about that cousin of yours, do you? Ever since he murdered his own son, he’s been kidnapping other people’s boys, holding them for years, then killing them when they get too old for him to pretend they’re Jack. And one of those helpless boys is inside that trailer right now.”

  Sunni’s mouth fell open, and she let out a tiny cry. She might be the world’s greatest actress, having pulled off the part of loving girlfriend with that drippy Southern accent that was nowhere to be heard now. But it was at least possible that she hadn’t realized just how evil her cousin was.

  Cold comfort, though.

  “There’s something wrong with him; there always has been. He heard voices, claimed that someone else was telling him what to do or that the mysterious someone else had just done some of the things Johnny got blamed for. He had a hard life. We both did.”

  “Boo hoo,” she snapped. “Say one more word defending him, and I swear to God I’ll slap your face.” Then, trying to hold on to her fraying temper, she added, “Go ahead, get out of here. Just call nine-one-one. I’ll stay here and wait for them, unless I see him making a move on the boy.”

  Sunni shook her head quickly, looking over her shoulder at the trailer, where all remained still and ominously silent. “I’m not leaving you . . .”

  “For God’s sake, we don’t have time to mess around. At least call the police.”

  “My phone’s in my car.”

  Stupid, stupid woman.

  “Then I guess you’re leaving me.” Liv put a hand on her back and pushed her toward the woods. “Go.”

  From behind them came a squeaking sound.

  The door.

  Oh, God, go!

  Sunni went, darting into the woods. Liv could hear the snapping of limbs and the rustling of leaves, and prayed Johnny did not.

  He yelled something, and her heart stopped. Then she realized he hadn’t been yelling at Sunni . . . but at the boy, who had just emerged from the camper.

  “Jack,” she whispered, knowing that wasn’t his name.

  He was small, undernourished, scrawny. Pale. His brown hair was long and shaggy, his skinny shoulders slumped under an ill-fitting old T-shirt. He stumbled a little as he trudged down the stairs, and he kept his head down, trying to make himself small, unnoticed.

  He looked broken.

  “Do you know it’s only a few hours till your birthday, Jack?” the man said. “And I
got you a present. Gonna give you somethin’ that’ll make you know what it means to be a man.”

  He cast a sly look toward the shed. Olivia, realizing what he meant, wanted to puke, wondering if there was any evil, any degradation beneath him.

  “And after you get your cherry popped, we’re gonna have us another kind of fun together. You know all those times you asked me what I was doin’ out in the shed and what those funny noises were? Well, tonight, you are gonna find out.”

  So, he wasn’t going to kill Jack right away. He was going to make him a rapist and a murderer first.

  Olivia gripped the pen knife, knowing that the moment Johnny came close enough to see the lock had been opened, she’d have to act. She only hoped the boy wasn’t so brainwashed that he’d try to help his captor.

  They walked closer, the man clapping the boy on the back. Then suddenly, from the woods behind her, Liv heard a snap, and a small cry.

  Johnny heard it, too. “What the hell?” He reached into his pants and pulled out a gun Liv hadn’t even seen. Good lord, she’d thought she could go up against this man with a knife, given what he’d done to Ty?

  “You worthless bitch!” he howled.

  For a second, Olivia was sure he’d seen her face, peeking out from behind the shed, but he soon proved otherwise.

  “You shoulda never come back! I woulda let you go, you dumb whore!”

  Then he was running, darting into the woods. He ran right past the shed—right past her—and kept going. Olivia could just make out a blond figure running away from him, zigzagging through the trees, crying, “Johnny, no!”

  Sunni had come back, and she’d drawn him away.

  Olivia and Jack had a chance, just one chance.

  And she was taking it.

  Not giving it another thought, she ran out from behind the shed, charged to the boy, swooped him into her arms, and ran as hard and fast as she could in the other direction.

  Gabe drove like a madman, not really giving a damn that, beside him, Mick was hanging on to the dashboard and, in the backseat, Julia was clutching the door handle. The siren was on the roof, blaring at everyone in his way to make room. Somewhere behind him, Aidan and Derek were following, but they’d fallen back, not having the power of a tricked-out, eight-cylinder police car made for pursuits.

  “There!” Mick said, pointing to the exit.

  Gabe flew down the ramp, taking the curve so fast he thought the two inner tires would lift off the ground. “Which way?”

  Mick looked at the GPS. “Right, then one mile. It should be on your left. Hopefully you’ll see a new chain and a No Trespassing sign.”

  And if he did, Gabe was driving right the hell through them.

  “Your ghost show up back there yet?” he asked Julia, eyeing her in the rearview mirror.

  “No. I’m sure he’s still looking.”

  He saw the small gravel driveway, right where Mick had said he would . . . and it did, indeed, have a metal chain with a shiny new sign. Knowing he was probably ending his police career for bursting onto a potential crime scene without a warrant or any provable probable cause, Gabe gunned the engine and drove right through the chain, tearing down the two posts that had been holding it up.

  “Guess we’re not going for the element of surprise,” Mick said.

  “No time.”

  There were no streetlamps, of course, and the woods overhead blocked out much of the sky. It wasn’t full dark out on the road, but here in the woods, he couldn’t see any farther than the distance of his headlights. He tapped the high beams, gaining a few extra feet, and kept following the narrow road, twisting and turning around hairpin curves and over downed limbs and brush.

  Ahead, he suddenly spotted something—a glow in the woods. Some kind of light. His foot nearly hit the floor, taking the gas pedal with it, and he heard Julia fly around in the backseat. But he couldn’t slow down.

  Olivia, please, God, please be okay.

  Suddenly, ahead of him, he saw a shocking sight and hit the brakes. A blond woman, her hair tangled over her face, obscuring it, came staggering out of the woods, clutching her stomach. Her hands were covered with blood, which dripped down freely, drenching her body.

  “Who the hell is that?” he asked.

  Julia was already getting out of the car, reaching for the gun at her hip. Mick joined her, and together they raced to the woman.

  But Gabe didn’t get out. They’d do what they could for her, but right now, he was focused on getting to Olivia, finding the shed Aidan had seen in his vision, since that’s where the psychic had been sure she was being held. Those lights ahead, probably coming from the camper, were only yards away, he couldn’t just sit here and stare at them.

  He hit the gas again once Julia and Mick reached the woman’s side. They waved him on, silently telling him to do what he had to.

  Rounding one more curve, he suddenly emerged into a clearing and spied the mobile home. And the shed. He lurched to a stop, jumping out and running toward it, calling Olivia’s name. But the word died on his lips when he saw that the door was wide open and nobody was inside.

  “Gabe!” a voice cried.

  Olivia.

  He spun around, charging toward the sound, past the camper, into the dark woods. He knew a predator was out here, knew he was deadly. But Gabe was like a predator now, too. He was filled with rage and deadly purpose, wanting to save the woman he’d begun to love and avenge the partner he’d lost.

  His weapon in his hand, down by his side, he paused midstep, hearing noises from two directions. A woman speaking somewhere to the right, a child’s answering cry.

  And to the left . . .

  “Jack! You get back here, boy!”

  “There you are,” Gabe whispered, melting back against a large live oak, disappearing into its shadow. He waited, hearing the branches breaking as the murderous bastard lumbered through the woods, bellowing the boy’s name again and again.

  “You’re not getting anywhere near him again,” he mumbled, meaning it.

  The man suddenly stopped yelling and stopped running, too. Gabe held his breath, not making a sound, knowing that, like any other deadly animal, John Traynor smelled danger.

  Gabe was no murderer; he wasn’t lying in wait to shoot the man down in cold blood. He’d just wanted Traynor to come closer, close enough so that there would be nowhere to run once Gabe leveled his gun on him and ordered him to freeze.

  But he was still too far away. He could break left or right, disappear into the woods, where Gabe didn’t dare randomly shoot for fear he’d hit Olivia or the boy.

  “You’re never going to hurt him again,” a voice said, loud and deliberate. Olivia’s.

  She was close. Not more than a few yards away, though he couldn’t see her. But she hadn’t been talking to him; she’d been talking to Traynor. Baiting him like a bear.

  Just like a wounded bear, Traynor bellowed, then lurched out of hiding, enraged by her voice, losing all caution. Which was obviously what she’d intended.

  Gabe counted to five, watching the man step closer, sure Olivia had already taken cover again and was well hidden. Traynor drew even with him and then moved on past. Exactly two steps past.

  “Freeze, you son of a bitch,” Gabe snarled as he leapt out from his hiding place, putting the barrel of the gun against the man’s lower back. “Drop that gun.”

  He’d expected him to do it, to know he had nowhere to go, no possible chance to get away from Gabe before he would be shot. But he was still operating on animal instincts. Those vicious, cornered-animal instincts must have told him to fight. He began to swing around, the muzzle coming up as he prepared to fire.

  Somewhere out in the trees, Olivia cried out. The boy sobbed.

  “Don’t,” Gabe ordered.

  But it was clear the man wasn’t going to stop. He intended to kill or be killed.

  Knowing which of those two options he preferred, Gabe didn’t even hesitate. He just pulled the trigger.


  Traynor dropped. Gabe stared down at him, already knowing this man who’d killed so many, including the best friend he’d ever had, was never going to get up again.

  Which was just fine with him.

  “Gabe?” Olivia cried, running toward him through the trees. She held a boy in her arms, a gangly boy, not too big, but then neither was Olivia.

  He jogged toward her, reaching out and taking the child from her arms. The boy, who looked like he was in shock, came without protest, staring down at the ground where the man who’d made his life miserable lay in a pool of blood.

  “Are you okay?” Gabe asked, reaching out to touch Olivia, stroking her cheek, brushing his thumb across her bottom lip.

  She curled her face into his palm, kissing his hand. “I’m fine. I think I really am fine at last.”

  Chapter 15

  After she arrived home from Ty’s funeral, Olivia kicked off her black shoes and sat down on her front porch swing. She hadn’t used it in months—nobody used porch swings in the height of a Southern summer.

  It was still the height of summer—still August, still hot, still miserable. But for the first time in at least two months, there was a hint of coolness on the breeze. Like Georgia had decided to take pity on her residents and send a tiny breath of fall a couple of months early, just as a tease.

  It wouldn’t last. But she’d take it while she could.

  Pushing her bare feet against the plank floor of the verandah, she set the swing in motion, watching kids ride their bikes down the street, waving to one of her neighbors who was emptying groceries out of her car. They were living their lives. Normal lives. Normal families.

  Normal days.

  Would they ever be that way for her? Was normalcy something she could even understand at this point in her life much less strive for?

  Most important, was she living her life the way she should be, or had her choices driven all chance of normalcy away for good?

  That question had plagued her for a long time but never more so since Monday, when Gabe had looked at her with both anger and emotion in his eyes and told her what he thought of the job she’d been doing so far—the job of living the life she’d been given not once but twice.