Too Familiar (Fear Familiar Book 2)

by Carolyn Haines

  She trotted along behind Familiar for another five minutes before he veered off the path and cut through the trees. Without a light, the footing was rocky, but Cassandra followed. He was definitely leading her.

  They were moving toward the edge of the orchard, a place Cassandra had not visited since her father’s death. A haunting sensation of terrible loss touched her, and she pushed it aside. The past was dead and buried. She had her future to worry about, a future that might be determined by what she learned on this night.

  “Meow!” Familiar called as he urged her on.

  Cassandra firmed her resolve. It was almost as if that damn cat read her mind. He seemed to know she was faltering. But she wasn’t. She wouldn’t let the past prevent her from reaching for the future. Hadn’t she done that all of her life—used the past to excuse herself from trying to find happiness and love?

  She’d avoided caring about anyone just like she’d avoided this part of the orchard. She didn’t want to explore the possibility of caring for anyone, and she didn’t want to examine the place her father had died. She didn’t want to risk further hurt.

  “I’m tired of being a coward,” she panted as she followed Familiar. “I’m not going to avoid this place or my feelings for Adam any longer.”

  They were almost at the edge of the orchard, the place where the side of the mountain sheered away and fell for two thousand feet. It was the place she’d often come with Blake McBeth and watched the orchestrations of the stars.

  Familiar stopped, as if he too saw the beauty of the night spread out across the horizon. Cassandra halted beside him. Sadness and loss surrounded her, and she knew again the pain of missing her father. The day he’d died, so had her childhood.

  A sharp prick in her right leg made her jump.

  “Meow!” Familiar demanded.

  “Cat, you’re too pushy.” She turned away from the view and followed Familiar at a walk. He was threading his way past trees and rocks, moving unerringly toward a goal.

  When he stopped by a large rock formation, Cassandra waited. The cat jumped on one rock, and then onto another. He turned back to see if she followed.

  “I hate this,” she said as she started to climb after him. The flashlight was awkward, still, she dragged it along with her. The rocks weren’t high, but the climb was difficult in the dark. When she finally reached the top, she saw the cat crouching beside something.

  “If this is some poor rodent you’ve caught and killed, I’m going to do something terrible to you,” she whispered. She clicked on the light and aimed it at the cat. It took several seconds for her mind to accept what she saw. When she finally realized what Familiar had led her to, she felt the scream rising in her throat.

  * * *

  “The lights are on.” Adam was amazed at the sweetness of the relief that flooded through him.

  “Be careful,” Running Stream cautioned as he threw himself out of the car.

  He didn’t bother to answer as he took the steps three at a time and rushed to the front door. The first indication of trouble was the fact that the door swung open at his lightest touch. Cassandra had agreed to keep the house locked tight.

  He held up a warning hand to Running Stream, a sign for her to remain in the car. Cautiously, he moved into the house. He didn’t call Cassandra’s name.

  He checked the upstairs and found it empty, also. When he was certain the house was safe, he went to the front door and motioned Running Stream inside.

  Working together, it took them only a few moments to find the numbers Cassandra had written on a notepad by the phone.

  “She was trying to find you,” Running Stream said. “She called the lounge, my home, the sheriff’s office. The places she thought you might be.”

  “And then she took off on foot.” Adam paced the room. “Why? And where?” He stopped. “And did she go voluntarily? Surely she would have left a note for me if she’d had time.”

  “Where’s the cat?” Running Stream sat on the arm of the sofa. “And we need to check and see if anything else is missing. That would give us a clue where she might have gone.”

  Adam searched around the house for Familiar, while Running Stream looked through Cassandra’s bedroom for any clues.

  “The cat isn’t around anywhere. Not inside or out,” Adam reported when he returned.

  “Cassandra changed clothes. Her favorite jeans are gone, and her sneakers. She’s on foot, unless she caught a ride.” Running Stream’s gaze roamed over the den. She moved to the kitchen and foyer. “The flashlight and her black windbreaker are gone, too.”

  “Maybe I should call the sheriff,” Adam said with uncertainty.

  “Before you do that, why don’t we check the orchard? I remember when Cassandra’s father told me about the cave. Blake didn’t want her to know about it, for fear she might decide to explore. He was always afraid someone would hide there. Since his death, she hasn’t been there at all. It’s been years since I even thought about it, but if someone has been roaming around, they might have found the cave.” She pulled her shawl more tightly around her shoulders.

  “What are you thinking?” Adam asked.

  “That Cassandra knew someone was on her property, and that she went to find out who it was and why they were there. She might have thought it was Bounder.” Running Stream’s fingers clutched the fabric of her shawl. “She never told me what Billy told her, but I’m afraid those young men are trouble. I think maybe they’ve been up in the cave.”

  “You think Cassandra might be there too?”

  Running Stream nodded.

  “You’d better stay here and wait for her. Just a minute.” He dashed out the front door and came back. In his hand was a small but powerful-looking gun.

  “No,” Running Stream said softly.

  Adam checked the chamber and loaded six bullets. “Whether you want it or not, take it. If Cassandra comes back down here and anyone tries to hurt her, kill them.” His gaze locked with hers. “I mean it, Running Stream. There’s a maniac out there, and he might be after Cassandra. If someone has to die tonight, I don’t want it to be Cassandra or you.”

  Running Stream reached her hand out slowly and took the gun from Adam. “I know how to use it, so don’t worry.”

  “Will you?”

  “If I have to.”

  Adam leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Thanks. Now I’m going up to the orchard. If Cassandra comes back, fire the gun once up into the air, okay?”

  Running Stream nodded. “One shot and you’ll know she’s here safe.”

  “More than one, and I’ll be down here as fast as I can.” Adam checked his own weapon, a gun identical to the one he’d given Running Stream. He’d never owned a gun until the day before when he’d stopped by a shop in Gatlinburg and made the purchase. One weapon had been intended for Cassandra, even though he knew she’d balk at the idea of touching one.

  It was too late now for arguments over gun control. He only knew that if someone armed and dangerous was after Cassandra, he’d protect her with his life.

  The moon gave fair illumination as he started the long trek up to the apple orchard. He knew how Cassandra avoided the place. What could have drawn her up there at night alone?

  His long legs and steady pace ate up the distance. Even though his lungs burned with the effort, he pushed on. At the same time he kept his ears alert for any unnatural sound.

  As he ran, he mulled over the carnie, Ray. There was something about the man that didn’t click. He’d used poor Sarah Welford, no doubt about that. But he didn’t strike Adam as a killer.

  He didn’t deny having met Cassandra in the lounge, and he’d been straightforward about dumping her on the side of the road. He’d acted as if she’d gotten her due, but he hadn’t lied. If he’d been killing women up and down the mountain, would he have been so blatant about his behavior? It simply didn’t fit.

  On the other hand, the mayor of Gatlinburg was a man who troubled Adam. Simpson’s calculated attacks o
n Cassandra revealed a deep-seated personality flaw to Adam. The man was terrified of Cassandra.

  He had something to hide, and he was afraid Cassandra would unearth it. Adam’s suspicions pointed directly to the murder of the women.

  Beaker was in it up to his neck. No lawman in his right mind would take confidential information such as the things Cassandra had told him and give them to a television talk show host. It bordered on a criminal action. When all of this was over, Beaker was going to have some serious questions to answer about his conduct.

  Adam puffed on, forcing one leg in front of the other. He was at the beginning of the orchard. He passed the first several rows of trees and the land leveled out, allowing him to drag air into his burning lungs.

  The gun was snug in his waistband with extra bullets in his pocket. Each time he drew a breath, he felt the hard steel. He slowed his pace, trying to remember the layout of the orchard as Cassandra had described it. He also had to listen to see if he could hear any sound of her presence.

  Without knowing what kind of situation he faced, he didn’t want to call out to her. He dropped back to a walk and began to move from tree to tree.

  Night sounds were all around him. Insects whirred, their choruses broken by the flutters and rustlings of birds and small animals moving through the protection of darkness.

  If there was a human sound, he couldn’t detect it. He moved forward listening, watching. Where would she go? The orchard was big, and she could be anywhere in it, if she was even on the mountain.

  He was on the point of calling her name when the night was splintered by the anguish of a scream.

  Adam froze, and then broke into a run. It was Cassandra’s voice, and she sounded as if she were being tom apart.

  The scream echoed in the night as he raced forward. He broke through a line of trees and what he saw stopped him completely. Cassandra and the cat were outlined on a huge rock. She was kneeling with the cat at her side, a flashlight beam pointed at the rock. Slowly she reached forward and picked something up.

  17

  Rocks dug into Adam’s hands as he pulled himself up the mountain of stone to where Cassandra knelt. Against the backdrop of the starry night and the moon, she appeared to be captured in some ancient ritual of grief.

  “Cassandra,” he said gently. When she didn’t respond, he put his arms around her. “What’s wrong?” he asked. She was rocking back and forth slowly, clutching something in her hand. “She’s dead, Adam. Somehow, he killed her.”

  “Who?” In the darkness, he couldn’t tell if she was injured or confused or coming out of a nightmare.

  “JoAnn,” she whispered. “See.”

  The hair she held in her hand was about four inches long and luxuriant, tied at one end with a red ribbon. It was obviously human hair and very much resembled JoAnn Reed’s beautiful tresses.

  “He left it here for me to find,” Cassandra said. Her voice was soft, almost inflectionless. “He’s taunting me. He was at the house tonight, and he left a fake bomb in the kitchen. He did it to prove to me that he could. He was outside the whole time, watching. He laughed at me.”

  “Let’s get home,” Adam said. They were unprotected on the rock, and Running Stream was alone in the house. He’d known the man they sought was insane, but he’d never experienced the full reality of the killer’s craziness until he saw the hair. The killer was obviously performing a ritual scalping of the women he victimized. The man was sick, and extremely dangerous.

  Very gently, Adam took the hair from her hand and carefully put it in the pocket of his jacket. He helped Cassandra off the rocks, and Familiar followed, as lithe and agile as ever.

  “Before we go home, I have to do one thing,” he said as he led Cassandra toward the place where Running Stream said the cave would be. He had to check it out to see what Bounder was involved in. He owed Running Stream that much. There was no telling what she would have to face in the future.

  He didn’t like the idea of the hair. It was symbolic scalping. The first thing that had come to his mind was an Indian revolt. It would be the first thing most people thought about. Either Bounder and his friends had stepped too far over the line, or it was possible that someone was trying to set than up. For the moment, he didn’t know what he believed.

  “There’s a cave here. I promised Running Stream I’d check it out,” he said, as he led the way.

  Cassandra didn’t ask a question. She followed him as he wound his way through the trees. For a short distance, Familiar followed, then suddenly darted ahead, crying loudly.

  “If we had any element of surprise, Familiar has blown it,” Adam grumbled as they crept forward.

  The face of the mountain was completely dark. There were areas so black that they appeared to be holes or mouths, but they were only indentations. Adam patiently searched for the opening. Beside him, Cassandra searched low while he felt high. They’d have to do it by touch.

  Familiar’s meow was a steady aggravation. The cat raced from them to a distance farther along the wall of the rock. Then he dashed back to them and yowled louder.

  Exasperated, Cassandra followed the cat to the point where he stopped and disappeared into a crevice in the side of the mountain.

  “I think we’ve got it,” she said. “Flashlight?”

  “No,” Adam said. “Wait until we’re inside. Someone might be out there trying to follow us. We don’t want to make it any easier than we have to.”

  Adam stepped through the opening first with Cassandra right on his heels. In the total darkness of the cave, the cat brushed past Adam’s leg and gave a rumbling cry. Adam clicked on the flashlight.

  The prone body of Bounder was flung against one side of the cave wall. His arm was twisted in a funny angle, and in the flashlight’s gleam, he was unnaturally pale.

  Cassandra rushed to him while Adam steadied the light. A quick check of his carotid artery indicated he was still alive, but his pulse was weak. His right arm was broken, Cassandra knew that without touching him, and he was unconscious. She ran her hands along his legs while Adam held the light. They were clean and straight, but as she moved up his body, she found numerous cuts and scrapes, nothing too serious until she saw the gaping head wound. He’d been soundly bashed on the left side of his head.

  “He probably broke his arm in the fall against the cave wall,” Cassandra whispered. “We need an ambulance. I can’t tell about internal injuries.”

  “Could they find this location if they came up here?” Adam asked.

  Cassandra thought a moment. “Maybe, maybe not. He’s losing blood slowly but steadily from the head wound. We have to get him home, and quickly.” She bent down to examine his arm.

  Adam’s hand closed on her shoulder and stayed her. “Before we do anything, consider that Bounder might be the killer.”

  Cassandra’s hair arced around her head as she swung to face him. “I don’t believe that.”

  “I know you don’t want to, but it might be true.”

  “Then who knocked him out?”

  Adam dropped the flashlight and moved his hands from her shoulders down her arms as he knelt beside her. “I don’t want it to be true, but I want you prepared. Okay?”

  She nodded, giving her attention once again to the injured man. “You’re right. We have to consider every possibility. Running Stream warned me to keep all doors open. I wonder if she knew I’d be suspecting her son?”

  “She’s a smart woman. She knows Bounder might be involved in something bad.”

  “But not murders,” Cassandra insisted.

  “While you’re working on his arm, I’m going to have a look around this place.” The cave descended into cavernous blackness. Adam had no idea how deep the chamber was, or what might be hiding in there. He wanted to check it out before there was an unpleasant surprise.

  The cave was narrow at the opening, but it widened out and the ceiling soared to a large cavern. The darkness ate the beam of light; the cave was bigger than he’d antici
pated.

  Footsteps echoing, Adam moved forward. The flashlight picked up whorls and scars in the earth where it appeared something heavy had been dragged away, but the cave was empty.

  “Adam, he’s coming around.” Cassandra’s voice echoed eerily in the empty cavern.

  Adam ran the light over the interior as thoroughly as possible before returning to Cassandra’s side. She held Bounder’s head in her lap, and the young man was moaning and beginning to stir.

  “The pain is going to be intense,” Cassandra warned. “I don’t have a thing to give him.”

  “If he can stand it, we’ll try to get him back to your house.”

  “I can stand it,” Bounder said softly.

  “What happened?” Cassandra pressed her hand on Bounder’s forehead, gently encouraging him to remain prone for a few moments longer. She knew the first effort to move would awaken the pain in his broken arm.

  “I came up here to check on the materials.” He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth against the pain. For a second, he almost fainted, but he ground out the next words. “There was someone hiding here. Whoever it was hit me with something and...I don’t remember.” His voice grew hazy.

  “Then they threw you against the rock wall,” Cassandra told him. “How long have you been here?”

  “I don’t know. I woke up several times, but when I tried to move, I blacked out again. I heard things. Crying and moaning. I knew I had to get away before I died.”

  “It’s okay now,” Cassandra comforted him. She cast a look at Adam.

  “Bounder, we need the truth now. Who hurt you? Was it one of your friends?”

  “No. The truth is, I don’t know who it was. I never saw them.” He stifled a cry as he forced himself into a sitting position with Cassandra’s help. He swayed for a moment as if he might yield to the pain, but he didn’t. “We have to get out of here. Now.”

  “What were you hiding here on Cassandra’s property?”

  “Parts for a bomb.” Bounder panted from the pain.