Blood Vines

by Erica Spindler

  She wandered deeper, as if propelled by an unseen force. As she did, a strong sense of déjà vu came over her. She had been here before, she was certain of it.

  She headed deeper into the cave, excited by the possibility that she was finally remembering.

  A sound behind her caused her to stop and look back. The tunnel behind her was empty. “Hello,” she called.

  Her voice echoed back at her. She frowned. How far from the welcome area was she? Not far, she decided. Not so far she wouldn’t hear activity there.

  She pressed on, her heart beating heavily. Drumlike, it filled her head. She hesitated, glancing over her shoulder again, torn between the urge to push on and head back.

  Pushing forward won out.

  The smell of incense, sharp and sweet, stung her nose. Her steps faltered. She glanced around her. Where, she wondered, was it coming from? Up ahead, the tunnel split into two. She reached the fork, then stopped and listened. She heard the faint strain of voices. Laughter.

  A tour in progress, she thought. To the right.

  She started off that way. The voices grew louder. Men and women, she heard. Laughter. Other sounds, as well. Ones she couldn’t quite identify but that made her feel uncomfortable.

  Not a tour. A group had moved the party out here. They were having themselves a really good time. They wouldn’t appreciate her interruption.

  Time to head back, Alex.

  She hadn’t paid attention to where she was going, she realized. But how hard could it be? A left would take her back toward the entrance. Maybe.

  She tried it. But instead of taking her away from the partying group, it seemed to bring her closer. The voices grew louder; the smell more intense.

  She turned back the way she’d come, then took the right instead. But again, the sounds grew louder.

  She stopped, confused and fuzzy-headed. She took a deep breath, trying to focus, cursing herself the last couple glasses of wine.

  “Hello?” she called out. “Is someone there?”

  Instead of a response came the rise and fall of laughter. Louder still, she thought. How could that be? Was she walking in circles? Was the cave playing tricks on her?

  Panic came upon her suddenly. With it the sense that the cave was closing in on her. She struggled to control her runaway pulse, to breathe deeply and slowly.

  Stop it, Alex. There are people nearby; Reed will come looking for you. Someone will find you.

  Somewhat calmer, she took stock of her location, then told herself to keep moving. Put one foot in front of the other. She did, counting her steps, acknowledging that the tunnels all looked exactly the same-lined with barrels, the single row of bulbs seeming to stretch on forever.

  And then they went out. Total darkness engulfed her. Her knees went weak. The glass slipped from her hand, hitting the floor and shattering. She felt the spilled wine splash her ankles.

  The sound of the partiers grew louder, though nearly drowned out by her thundering heart and ragged breathing.

  “I’m still in here!” she cried. “Wait!”

  More laughter reached her ears. Strange grunting noises. A howl that sounded part human, part animal. She backed away, bumping into a stack of barrels.

  “Hello!” she called again, hearing the desperation in her own voice. “Please, someone!”

  “Alex! Alex, where are you?”

  “Reed!” she cried. “I’m here!”

  A beam of light swept crazily over the floor and walls, then pinned her.

  It seemed ages until he reached her, until he drew her into his arms and against his chest. “My God, you’re shaking.”

  Alex clung to him. “I got turned around. I called out, but no one-” She buried her face in his chest. His shirt was soft against her cheek, the beat of his heart reassuring. He smelled of soap and a subtly spicy aftershave.

  Except for their breathing, it was silent. No more clandestine party animals.

  “I guess we broke up that party,” she murmured, easing out of his arms, feeling more than a little bit foolish.

  “We didn’t have much to do with it. Once the caterer packs up the bar, the fun’s always over.”

  She realized he meant the wine launch. “Not that. There was a group out here. Carrying on. Burning incense.”

  “Incense?”

  She realized how outrageous that sounded. “That’s what I thought at the time, but maybe they were smoking weed.” He frowned and she went on, “Whatever they were up to, it hadn’t been for public viewing.”

  The lights snapped on. A moment later, Reed’s younger brother, Ferris, appeared at the far end of the tunnel.

  “Bro,” Ferris called, “what’s the deal? I thought I heard someone scream.”

  Reed turned toward his brother. “Alex got turned around, then the lights went out. It scared her. No big deal.”

  Alex stepped away from Reed, frowning. She hadn’t screamed. She opened her mouth to tell them, then shut it, confused. Or had she? Obviously they’d both heard a scream.

  Not good, Alex. Definitely not good.

  Ferris grinned. “Okay then. Sorry to interrupt your knight in shining armor thing.”

  “Get a life, little brother,” Reed shot back, “that’s everyday for me.”

  “Give me a break. And look, flip the lights and lock up when you go.”

  “Wait!” Alex called. “There’s a group deeper in the cave. I heard them partying.”

  “Are you sure? I did a sweep of the tunnels earlier-”

  “I know what I heard. And smelled.”

  “She thinks they might’ve been smoking weed,” Reed said.

  Ferris swore. “Punks. This has happened before.”

  Reed looked back at her. “When the lights went out, could you still hear them?”

  “Right before, yes.”

  He frowned. “There’s only one way in and out of the cave, Alex. When the lights went out, that’s where I was. I heard you scream, grabbed the flashlight and came looking for you.”

  “And I was right behind you, Reed,” Ferris said. “One of us would have run into a group exiting.”

  “Then they’re still here. I’m certain of it.”

  Reed gazed at her a moment, then back at his brother. “Alex and I will take a look. Ferris, hang out in front, would you? The last thing we want is a group of kids using this as their personal party pad.”

  Ferris agreed, and together, Alex and Reed searched the cave. Designed in a fan shape, with dozens of pockets off each arm and a reception area at the far corner, it took better than thirty minutes to complete. And in the end, they found no sign of anyone else or a clandestine party.

  “Sorry, Alex,” Reed said.

  “I don’t understand. I know what I heard.”

  A small group had gathered at the cave entrance. It included Reed’s mother and father, Rachel and Treven.

  “Anything?” Ferris asked. Reed shook his head.

  Rachel rushed forward. “Are you all right, Alex?” She grabbed her hands and rubbed them. “They’re so cold! Poor thing.”

  “This is so embarrassing.”

  “Nonsense!” Rachel exclaimed. “Those caves are creepy even when the lights are on. I wandered into one when I was ten, got lost and wasn’t discovered for hours. I still shudder when I go in.”

  Lyla joined Rachel. “Ferris said you thought you heard voices?”

  Before she could respond, Reed stepped in. “We did a search. Came up empty.”

  The older Reed made a sound of sympathy. “Funny the way sounds carry at night.”

  “Indeed,” Treven agreed.

  Alex bit back a denial. She’d heard voices nobody else had and hadn’t heard the scream everybody else had. Arguing would make her look more ridiculous than she already did.

  It might even make her look crazy.

  Just like her mother.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Saturday, March 6

  11:22 P.M.

  They didn’t speak o
n the drive back to her house. When he’d parked in front of her cottage, they both climbed out and walked to her front door. Alex’s hands were shaking so badly Reed took the house key from her fingers and unlocked the door for her.

  “Are you going to be all right?” he asked, pushing the door open.

  “I’m fine.”

  But she wasn’t. She was embarrassed and shaken. Angry that no one believed her. Angry with herself for her own doubt. Determined to prove herself.

  She met his gaze. “I didn’t imagine what I heard. I didn’t.”

  “You’d had some wine and-”

  “I had a lot of wine,” she corrected. “But I wasn’t drunk.”

  “Voices carry on the night air.”

  “I was deep inside that cave. How could sounds from the party reach me there?”

  “Look, Alex, you’ve been dealing with some big issues. Nobody’s going to point fingers if your behavior’s a little erratic.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I didn’t want to say that, but it’s true. Honey, you’ve been through some terrible-”

  “Don’t call me honey.” She pushed the door the rest of the way open and strode inside. He followed her. She tossed her coat on the sofa and swung to face him. “And I am not crazy.”

  “I’m not saying you’re crazy.”

  “Maybe my timeline is wrong? Maybe I heard some folks carrying on and it got stuck in my head. They were partying. Burning something. I smelled it.”

  “Why’d you scream, Alex?”

  She wasn’t about to tell him she hadn’t. Or even that she didn’t remember doing it. She already looked a brick short of a load. “It was involuntary. I was already turned around, and when the lights went off… I must have… screamed.”

  “Must have?”

  “Never mind.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t know why I’m justifying myself to you.”

  “I didn’t ask you to, Alex.” He crossed to her, laid his hands on her shoulders. “You’ve been through a lot. Your mother’s death, the shock of learning about Dylan and now the move here. Cut yourself some slack.”

  She tipped her face up to his, ready to argue. Their eyes met and the words caught in her throat.

  “Don’t hold back, Alex. You look like you want to say something. Go ahead.”

  Go ahead. Don’t hold back. Aware of the warmth of his hands on her shoulders, the stirring of his breath against her cheek, those words took on a new meaning.

  His gaze dropped to her mouth. The air between them turned electric. Her face heated, the heat spread.

  Dammit. She had wanted to avoid this. Had wanted to keep things platonic.

  He moved one hand to the back of her neck, threading his fingers through her hair. She felt the subtle movement, the whisper soft caress of his fingers, deep in her belly, at the apex of her thighs.

  He lowered his mouth to hers, rubbed his experimentally against hers. Alex laid her palms against his chest. Beneath her right, his heart pounded.

  “A mistake,” he murmured against her mouth, voice thick.

  “Yes.” She curled her fingers into his shirt, holding on.

  “Should I go?”

  “God, no.”

  Groaning, he caught her lips and cupping her derriere, lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, rubbing against him as he carried her to the bedroom. They fell onto the bed, only separating long enough to loosen and remove clothing, cursing garments that clung, tearing at those that resisted. She exploded in orgasm as he entered her, with a force that had her crying out and bucking against him.

  Afterward, they lay side by side, damp, winded. Alex stared at the ceiling, thoughts racing. She’d left this part of her life behind years ago. This mindless search for fulfillment through sex. It’d been a stage, one that had been self-destructive and ultimately humiliating.

  He touched her cheek, dragging her away from her own thoughts. She turned her face to his.

  “Wow,” he said.

  “Yeah.” Her lips curved up. “But… never mind.”

  “What?” He propped himself on an elbow and gazed down at her.

  “I’m thinking this wasn’t such a good idea.”

  “Then stop thinking.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “It was just sex, right?”

  “Great sex,” he corrected. “Come here.”

  He pulled her into the crook of his arm. Alex rested her head against his shoulder and her hand over his heart.

  Moments became minutes. He yawned. “I suppose I should go.”

  “Whenever you need to.”

  He yawned again. “Soon.”

  She rested her head against his shoulder. “What’s the long story?”

  “About?”

  “You and your dad. Why you didn’t join the family business.”

  “Nosy, aren’t you?”

  “Impatient. I’m not good at waiting for what I want.”

  “I noticed.” He fell silent. When he spoke again, all traces of amusement and the afterglow of explosive sex had disappeared from his voice. “If you asked my old man, he’d tell you I didn’t have the balls.”

  “Interesting. But I’m asking you.”

  He rubbed his jaw against the top of her head. “I didn’t want to fight my brothers for it. Dad pitted the three of us against each other. I thought it was bullshit.”

  “So you opted out.”

  “I opted out.”

  She doubted it had been anywhere near as simple as that. “And your brothers?”

  “Fell right in line. They fought each other for Dad’s ‘attaboy.’ He decided who they would be, like it or not.”

  She had picked up on the family dynamics enough to have recognized them as he was talking. The elder Reed ruled over the family business with an iron will-if not an iron fist as well. Joe was the favored son. Father’s confidant and CEO in training. Obviously singled out to take the company forward. Ferris had been relegated to the voice of Reed wines. Head of sales and marketing.

  “Where would you have fit in the family circus?”

  “Dad had pegged me as the winemaker.”

  “And?”

  “Nobody was going to pick my career for me.”

  “You didn’t love it?”

  “Not enough to sell my soul to it-or to Dad.”

  His cell went off. “Reed here,” he answered.

  Alex sat up, bringing the sheet with her. She watched his expression tighten.

  “Where?” He paused. “Son of a bitch. On my way.”

  He climbed out of the bed, bent and grabbed his jeans. “I’ve got to go.” He yanked them on, then snatched up his shirt. “Sorry.”

  He didn’t look at her. An uneasy sensation settled in the pit of her gut. “What’s going on, Reed?”

  “A murder. Someone from the party tonight.”

  “Who?” she asked. “Was it someone I met?”

  “Don’t think so.” He shrugged into his shirt, then buttoned it. “A guy named Tom Schwann. His roots went deep around here.”

  Dressed, he crossed to the bed, bent and kissed her. “Sorry about this. I’ll call.”

  She watched him go, thinking about roots that went deep and wondering if he would call.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Sunday, March 7

  2:35 A.M.

  Schwann had been found on a gravel T-bone off Thornsberry Road, the narrow road that led to his family winery. The T-bone was hardly even a drive. Tucked back that way, cars could have driven by all night long and not seen him.

  Reed moved his gaze, taking count of the vehicles at the scene. Tanner and her team had already arrived. The scene lights lit up the night like an urban parking lot. In addition, a patrol car and a banged-up Honda Civic sat by the roadside.

  Schwann and his wife both drove big-ass sedans. So, how had Tom ended up here, dead?

  Reed shoved his hands into the pockets of his bomber jacket. His breath made frosty pillows on the air. He c
ouldn’t help thinking this was a damn rude ending to what had been a pretty spectacular night.

  Wow hadn’t quite covered it.

  He signed in, then ducked under the crime scene tape. His boots crunched on the gravel path and Tanner turned and looked at him. She didn’t have to say a thing; he knew what she was thinking.

  This was going to blow the valley’s tight-knit wine community apart.

  His comment to Alex about Schwann’s family roots had been spot-on. Tom’s great-great-grandfather, Albrecht Schwann, had settled here and begun growing grapes before the Reeds, Sommers or Mondavis and their effort had helped bring California wines to international prominence. Tom had been a patron of the arts and a local philanthropist as well. And he’d had a lot of friends in this town. Reed’s brother Joe had been one of his closest.

  “Who found him?” Reed asked, squatting beside the body, grimacing at the gruesome sight. Someone had planted a secateur in Schwann’s throat, then yanked, nearly decapitating him.

  Known by the brand name Red Rooster, the small curved blade implements used for cutting clusters of grapes from the vines were as common as quarters in the valley. Pretty much every field hand had one on him, whether in the field or not.

  Conveniently, the killer had left his Red Rooster behind.

  “Meri Calvin. Worked for him. Said he called and asked her to come get him.”

  Reed nodded. “Where is she?”

  “Keeping warm in the patrol unit.” As if reminded of the cold, Tanner stomped her feet to warm them. “Unfortunately, she’s not covered in blood.”

  “That’d be too damn easy,” Reed muttered, studying the bloodied plastic handle. It’d been a clumsy job. And a messy one. He glanced at Tanner. “Depending on the exact strike point, blood spray would have been significant.”

  “Like puncturing a high-pressure hose.”

  He nodded and carefully scanned the ground around the victim. Even with the scene lights, the blood trail would be a bitch to follow. Gravel, leaves and other debris made evidence collection a game of hide-and-seek. “Whoever did this didn’t walk away clean, that’s for sure.”

  He straightened. “Doesn’t look premeditated. Perp didn’t think it through. I’m guessing there’ll be prints all over the weapon.”