Michelle stared at her phone, a sick feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.
“What’s wrong?” Utah pressed, sliding closer to her on the couch.
The phone picked that moment to ring. “Hello? Kris? Talk to me,” Michelle demanded, ignoring the fact that she could practically feel the heat from Utah’s thigh where it rested next to her own.
“Sheriff Dennison’s daughter is missing,” Kris responded in a worried tone. “Her mother had been out of town for a couple days. She returned home tonight to find the front door standing ajar. It appears there was a struggle in the front room. Some furniture was overturned, and a broken lamp lay by the front door. There’s been no sign of April.”
Michelle clutched the phone in a death grip. “When was the last time she spoke with April?”
“Last night,” Kris admitted in a low voice. “And apparently none of April’s friends have heard from her since then either.”
Blowing out a breath, Michelle asked, “Will you call me the minute you know anything? If I don’t hear from you beforehand, I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.”
“Will do,” Kris assured her before ending the call.
Michelle returned the phone to her pocket and faced Utah. “The sheriff’s daughter is missing.”
“How old is she?”
“She’s eighteen,” Michelle breathed. “But she’s never done this sort of thing before. She’s always been a responsible kid. Besides, there was evidence of a struggle in the house.”
Utah shifted in his seat. “Would you feel better if I went to have a look?”
Michelle blinked. Utah appeared to be as alive as any other man. She found it hard to wrap her mind around the fact that she sat on her sofa, conversing with a ghost. “How do you get from one place to another?”
“I’m not sure,” Utah confessed with a shrug. “I only know that if I concentrate on a particular place hard enough, that’s where I end up.”
Michelle studied his handsome face. “I’m sorry for the way I’ve reacted to you. It’s just all so strange…”
The corner of Utah’s mouth lifted, and he slowly rose to his feet. “No need to apologize. I would have reacted the same in your shoes.”
“Wait,” Michelle blurted, moving to stand also. “You are coming back, aren’t you?”
A strange look entered his eyes. “Do you want me to?”
She did want him to. “Sure. I’ll be up for a while.”
“Tell me where the Dennison home is.”
Bending down to open the drawer on the end table, Michelle retrieved a map of Walton County.
She quickly unfolded it, dragging her fingertip along the winding roads until she found the place she sought. “There. It’s exactly five miles west of Ponce De Leon. The house isn’t easy to see from the road, but—”
Utah vanished before she could finish her sentence.
Michelle stood there, slack mouthed, long after his essence had faded from the room. “It’s official. I’m losing my mind.”
Chapter Eleven
Utah appeared in the yard of the Dennison home, nausea immediately assailing him.
It took him a moment to gather the strength to move closer. Odd how he didn’t seem to need that strength when in Michelle’s presence.
He took a step toward a group of deputies conversing next to a patrol car, only to stagger back when the predictable screams of his past came rushing to the surface once again.
Utah gripped the sides of his head, his teeth clenched together in pain. The screams always came.
It took several minutes of concentration to calm the sounds enough for him to approach the worried deputies.
“There’s blood on the coffee table,” one of the officers pointed out. “Susan is inconsolable.”
Another deputy ran a hand down his face. “Wouldn’t you be? I can’t even imagine how I would react to coming home and finding my daughter missing.”
Headlights came speeding up the drive at a fast pace. The car slid to a stop behind the gathered deputies. A man jumped out and practically ran toward the house.
Utah recognized him as the sheriff, Josiah Dennison. He followed Josiah onto the porch.
“Susan?” the sheriff growled, barreling his way through the throng of people to get to his ex-wife.
Susan’s eyes were red and swollen, and mascara was smeared along her cheeks. She threw herself into the sheriff’s arms. “She’s gone, Josiah! Our baby is gone.” Her voice broke on that last word.
Utah’s heart went out to the two of them. Though he’d never had children of his own, he could only imagine how he would feel in their place.
Josiah continued to hold his ex-wife, his gaze boring into a tall, bald man standing under the porch light in front of him.
The guy shook his head, telling the sheriff without words that the situation looked grim.
“Why don’t you go wait in my car?” Josiah suggested softly to Susan. “I’ll be along shortly.”
She attempted to argue. “I’d rather stay close. What if she calls the house, and I’m not here to answer?”
“You have your cell in your hand,” Josiah pointed out. “We’ll answer the house phone if it rings. Now go ahead. I left it running and the air conditioner is on.”
Utah watched as Susan Dennison swiped at her cheeks with the backs of her hands and stumbled from the porch toward the sheriff’s car.
Josiah leaned in close to the bald man standing in front of him. “Tell me everything, Donnie.”
The one known as Donnie rubbed at the back of his neck. “We found blood on the corner of the coffee table. We’ve taken samples and had them sent back to the lab.”
Tears sparkled in the sheriff’s eyes, but he managed to fight them back. He ran a hand through his graying hair. “How long has she been missing?”
“About twelve hours, sir.”
Utah noticed the sheriff’s slightly stubbled jaw tightening. “She—” He cleared his throat and tried again. “She could be fighting with her boyfriend. Has anyone talked with him yet?”
“He’s at the station now, sir. Being held for questioning.”
Josiah’s expression hardened. “I want to talk to him myself. You go over this place with a fine-tooth comb, Donnie. Do you understand me?”
Donnie nodded. “It’s top priority, sir.”
“No one goes inside until you’ve processed everything. I’ll be back as soon as I’m done questioning the Bishop kid.”
The sheriff stormed off before Donnie could answer.
Utah stared at the open doorway for a heartbeat before stepping inside. His gaze touched on everything around him, from the blood on the coffee table corner to the busted lamp near the door.
Slowly venturing off down the hall, he came to a stop outside the first bedroom on the right, and then stepped inside.
Red cheerleading pom-poms hung from the corner of the bedpost, and a collage of photos covered the top half of the mirror above the dresser.
April’s room, Utah surmised, noticing everything from the made-up bed to the random vacuum lines on the carpet. So much like Leanne’s.
Though Leanne hadn’t been a cheerleader, she’d always kept her bedroom neat and clean.
His heart lurched at the memory of her laugh.
The sound of footsteps coming up the hall pulled Utah back to the present.
Donnie stepped into the room, followed by a young deputy.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” the deputy muttered, glancing at Donnie.
Donnie nodded. “I doubt it was the boyfriend.” He jerked his chin toward the bed. “No wrinkles on the covers, and no footprints on the carpet. If I were eighteen, this would have been the first place I’d have come to.”
“Same here,” the deputy agreed. “I’ll start around back.”
Donnie touched him on the arm as he moved toward the door. “If she hasn’t been found in the next twelve hours, I’m notifying the FBI.”
The deputy
paled. “Do you think this has to do with the other disappearances in the area?”
“Could be.”
Utah could barely make out the words exchanged between the two of them for the consistent screams ricocheting in his head.
He closed his eyes and willed himself back to Michelle’s.
She gasped, bounding from the couch at his sudden appearance. “Jesus! You’re going to have to learn to ring the doorbell or something. Else you’ll end up giving me heart failure.”
“I’m sorry,” Utah softly explained, relieved that the screaming had stopped. “I was so focused on stopping the screams that I didn’t think…”
Michelle’s gaze softened. “You mentioned that before. How often does it happen?”
“Nearly all the time. But I don’t hear them around you. And I don’t know why that is. I only know that it’s a relief so great that it takes my breath.”
Indicating the sofa, Michelle rubbed her palms along the front of her sweatpants. “Why don’t you sit?”
Utah moved to have a seat on the couch, still amazed by the effect she had on him.
Michelle sat next to him. “What did you see at Susan’s house?”
“Something bad definitely took place over there. There was blood on the corner of the coffee table, and some overturned furniture.”
“I wonder if April’s boyfriend, Paul Bishop, had something to do with it.”
Utah lifted a shoulder. “Could be, but I don’t think so. Her bed was perfectly made, and no footprints could be seen on the carpet in her bedroom. Nothing but vacuum lines.”
“That doesn’t mean he wasn’t involved,” Michelle persisted. “They could have had a fight.”
Utah met Michelle’s gaze. “They’re eighteen years old. The bedroom is usually the first place kids that age end up.”
Obviously embarrassed by his observation, she quickly changed the subject. “Did you see the sheriff?”
Utah explained everything he’d seen from the time he arrived at April’s house until the moment he’d left, ending with, “If she’s not found in the next twelve hours, they’re calling in the FBI.”
“Do they think this could be connected to the disappearances in the surrounding counties? You know, they never caught the sicko that took all those girls.”
An image of his sister flashed through Utah’s mind, bringing with it the old familiar pain.
“I’m so sorry,” Michelle rushed out, her face turning white. “I didn’t think before I spoke. Please, forgive my ignorance.”
Utah met her beautiful gaze, saw the sincerity swimming in her eyes. “There’s nothing to forgive.”
Michelle didn’t move, didn’t look away. She simply sat there, staring back at him while her palm unwittingly caressed the back of his hand.
Utah slowly leaned in…
Chapter Twelve
Michelle watched in a daze as Utah slowly leaned toward her, his lips parting a second before stopping to hover above her own.
He was going to kiss her.
The feel of her heart pounding didn’t hold a candle to the butterflies taking flight in her stomach.
She dropped her gaze to his mouth, marveling at the feel of his warm breath fanning across her face.
He was a spirit. How was it that she felt his breath?
And then his lips were on hers, and she suddenly didn’t care anymore.
Michelle couldn’t recall the last time she’d been kissed with such infinite care. Slowly, softly, he caressed her with his mouth. A slight suction, a gentle pressure.
And then his hands were cupping her face, holding her hostage for the passionate onslaught of his tongue.
Her eyes slid shut, and she opened for him, allowing him, no, wanting him to explore her depths.
He abruptly broke off the kiss, but continued to hold her face in his hands.
Michelle’s eyes fluttered open to stare into his tormented gaze.
His forehead came down to rest against her own, and his uneven breathing shattered the quiet of the room. Or was that sound coming from her?
She could feel a slight tremor in his arms, which only made her want to kiss him again.
Instead of speaking, his hands dropped away, and he vanished as quickly as he’d appeared.
Michelle remained rooted to the couch, staring at the spot that Utah Baines had recently vacated.
She took an unsteady breath, sliding her palm over to the cushion he’d sat on. It felt warm to the touch. As warm as if she had sat there herself. “Utah?”
Silence. No evidence of his existence remained in the room, save for the heat beneath her hand and the tingling he’d left on her lips.
The police scanner squelched once more, snapping Michelle out of her daze.
She reached over and turned up the volume, listening as her fellow dispatchers conversed with deputies about a motor vehicle accident on the interstate.
Michelle glanced at the clock hanging on her living room wall. It was well after midnight.
Yawning, she turned down the volume on the scanner and pushed to her feet. “Come on, Peanut. Let’s go to bed.”
The little dog looked up from his perch on the chair across the room. His ears twitched, and his head cocked to the side, but otherwise, he didn’t move.
“Suit yourself,” Michelle mumbled, locking the front and back door before trailing off to her bedroom.
She eased down onto the side of the bed, peering into the mirror above her dresser, half expecting Utah to appear in front of her.
Strange how things had changed in a matter of days. She’d gone from attempting to save lives to conversing with the ones who’d already passed on.
But Utah hadn’t passed on, she silently admitted, bringing her fingers up to touch her recently kissed lips. He remained behind, wandering aimlessly in search of what? Redemption?
With a sigh, Michelle dropped back onto the bed, her arms thrown out to her sides while she stared up at the ceiling.
Where had Utah gone? Was he planning on coming back? Had that kiss been one of goodbye? So many questions ran through her mind at once, she couldn’t process them all.
She threw an arm over her eyes and blew out a frustrated breath. He didn’t have to leave when he had. She could have withstood his company for a little bit longer.
Who was she kidding? Michelle had been enjoying him being there right up until the moment he’d disappeared.
The soft squelch of the scanner in the living room caught her attention, bringing her mind back to the situation at hand. Sheriff Dennison’s daughter was missing.
Michelle stood, removed her sweatpants, pulled back the covers, and climbed into bed.
What if April’s boyfriend had nothing to do with her disappearance? Suppose she’d been taken by the same man responsible for the dozens of other women vanishing from the area over the past twenty years.
Michelle shuddered, glancing at the small handgun resting on her nightstand. She made a mental note to keep the weapon on her person at all times, especially since the West Coast Strangler remained at large.
Unable to shut down her thoughts, Michelle threw back the covers and wandered to the kitchen for a glass of water.
She stopped next to the refrigerator, deciding instead on a glass of wine.
After pouring a healthy portion, Michelle downed the contents, refilled the glass, and carried it back to her bedroom.
She set it on the nightstand and snagged her laptop before climbing back into bed and pressing the power button.
It took the computer a moment to warm up and another to connect to the internet.
Once the screen lit up, she typed in “West Coast Strangler.” He’d been dubbed the name after Jane Doe, later identified as Cara Perez, had washed up on the banks of the Choctawhatchee Bay with ligature marks on her neck along with several strange-looking burn marks.
Cara had been branded with something that appeared to be a small circle with a half-moon shape in its center. It was obvious t
he girl had been tortured, her injuries similar to another body found years before in a shallow grave.
Cara Perez had been with Leanne Baines the day both girls had disappeared. Though the FBI had no evidence to link Leanne Baines to the West Coast Strangler, it was assumed she’d been taken by him as well.
Two hours passed by the time Michelle closed down the laptop and set it on the nightstand next to the handgun.
She leaned back against her pillows, her eyes wide in the darkness while thoughts of her gorgeous ghost continued to plague her.
Chapter Thirteen
Utah sat on the banks of Black Creek, his back propped against an old cypress tree and his head thrown back in anguish. The insistent screams inside his mind had nearly drained him of his strength.
He glanced down at his soot-covered clothes, wishing more than anything to be able to shower and toss them into the trash.
But no matter how hard he tried, he’d always wake up in the same uniform he’d worn to his death.
Regret had been instant the moment he’d left Michelle on that couch. Kissing her was the single most incredible thing that had happened to him since he’d lived.
Which was exactly the reason he’d left to begin with. Utah knew he could never have her. She was alive, so alive…and he, well, he wasn’t.
She deserved a life. A man that could give her babies, buy her a home in the country, and offer her all the things she could ever dream of. Not some smoke-permeated spirit haunting her every move, trapped in a place he couldn’t escape from.
Michelle’s voice suddenly penetrated his torment, soft and alluring. “Utah…”
He must be imagining things, he decided, dropping his head back against the tree once again.
“Utah…”
His entire body tightened as the sound resonated again.
Closing his eyes, he attempted to block out her soft call. Pain sliced through his body, wringing a moan from his throat.
“Utah…”
It took everything he had to push away from the tree and gain his feet. Damn her for seeking him out, and damn him for being unable to resist.
Fully Engulfed: BBW Paranormal Romance (Scruples Book 3) Page 6
