Raven's Cove - Jenna Ryan

by Intrigue Romance

  Before he could finish, Cyrus surged up. Using his head like a battering ram, he sent the big man crashing into Rogan’s chest. Boxman fell, Rogan hit the wall and Cyrus bolted back into the storm. Back toward Wesley Hamilton-Blume’s house.

  Back toward Jasmine.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jasmine felt the motion. It was like floating, except there were bumps and jolts and everything was dark and windy and wet.

  Needle-sharp objects hit her face. They stung her cheeks and made the journey through the drenched blackness that much more unpleasant.

  Then suddenly, the wind disappeared and the objects stopped flying at her. The floating sensation ended with a thump that bruised her tailbone and shot a painful spear into the back of her skull.

  Ruthless fingers squeezed her throat.

  “Wake up,” a man’s voice ordered. “I wasn’t ready for this, but he’s trying to stop me. I won’t let you make him do that.”

  The layers of dark parted as consciousness returned. She was in her body now, and she hurt, everywhere.

  She saw red, just a glimpse, heard two voices, one in her memory, the other not. One was nice, the other was—wrong.

  The hand squeezed again. Her eyes inched open.

  Stacks of books towered over her. A domino crash site lay to her right, but plenty of precarious piles remained intact.

  He’d brought her to Daniel’s cottage. To kill her without interruption, her blurry mind assumed. How dreadful would it be, she wondered, when the haze that cushioned her fear wore off?

  Through the patchy gloom, his features took on definite form. With her throat banded, a scratchy “Why…?” was all she could get out.

  He shoved her back, and the movement pushed jagged splinters of pain into her brain. “Because he loves you, Jasmine. He’s in love with you, while I—” an ugly smile twisted his mouth “—am not.”

  “Cyrus…” she began, only to have his hand tighten on her windpipe.

  “We’ll leave him out of this, I think. Cyrus can’t stop me any more than your cop lover or his Grizzly Adams sidekick can.” The killer’s face swam right up to hers. “Just so you know who’s going to end your life, I’ll introduce myself. My name is Robbie. I was seventeen years old when I died. Just seventeen years old when the man you know as Victor killed me.”

  * * *

  “NO ONE’S BURIED UNDER this rubble, Rogan.” Boxman flipped over a piece of the wall inside Wesley’s house. “So you’re saying Victor’s the killer. Mild-mannered, we-need-anti-Peeping-Tom-rules Victor Bowcott. Why? And please don’t say he loves her.”

  “He does. His brother Robbie doesn’t.” With fear for Jasmine’s life threatening to tie his brain in knots, Rogan shoved what thoughts he could in line and entered the killer’s mind.

  Victor, aka Robbie, wouldn’t have wanted to murder her here, and an explosion was too impersonal in any case. A blast would knock her off her feet, but he wanted her to suffer. Conclusion? He’d taken her someplace private.

  A groan emerged from the rear of the kitchen. Rogan was there before it ended, dragging the pantry door from Costello’s prone body.

  “How bad?” he asked before he moved him.

  “Just loopy. Tried to call your cell, but I blacked out.” He squinted up into Rogan’s face. “He took Jasmine. I saw him carrying her.”

  “Was she alive?”

  “Couldn’t tell.”

  “Did you see which way they went?”

  “Sorry. Rogan, who…?”

  “It’s Victor.”

  Boxman plowed through the rubble. “Cyrus and Victor are identical, Lieutenant.”

  “Cyrus didn’t have time to get back here.” Easing Costello upright, Rogan checked him for breaks. “You’ll be okay. Call 911,” he told Boxman.

  “Does Cyrus know?” a woozy Costello asked.

  “Yeah, he knows.”

  Rogan’s mind raced as he patted Costello’s shoulder. Where the hell would Victor as Robbie take her?

  The word anywhere whispered tantalizingly in his head. But anywhere wouldn’t do. People might see them at Blume House. Boris might sniff them out.

  The old house then?

  Possibly, but it was a steep climb, and the storm was getting worse.

  “Paramedics are en route.” Boxman tipped his phone up. “How can you be sure Victor’s the killer, Rogan?”

  “Cyrus wants to stop his brother from murdering any more people. It’s why he’s here.”

  “But he said—”

  “He saw a text message on Victor’s phone. My guess is it came from the sent file. He put what he had together and wound up in Raven’s Cove. It also fits the riddle Jasmine got. She’d see him, but it wouldn’t really be him she’d see. She saw Cyrus, not Victor.” Rogan’s eyes traveled to the blown-out door as he drew his gun. “Stay with Costello until the paramedics arrive. I’m going after Jasmine.”

  “Wait. How do you know where…?”

  “I don’t.” Rogan weighed the options one last time. “I’m playing a hunch.”

  “Well, hell.”

  The storm drowned out whatever else Boxman had to offer. What it couldn’t cover was the voice that crept through the slithering terror in Rogan’s head.

  What if he was wrong?

  * * *

  AT FIRST, JASMINE WAS SIMPLY too stunned to react.

  Victor was the murderer? He’d killed nine people as part of some crazed plan to be rid of her? Because he loved her, and his alter ego, Robbie, didn’t?

  She wanted to be dreaming, prayed she’d wake up and find herself anywhere but here.

  Then she recalled the flash of red light. And she remembered.

  “I saw it,” she whispered. “A red light came on when I was talking to Victor. He— You were in Wesley’s home, talking to me while you waited to ambush him.”

  Squatting next to her, Robbie gestured with his gun. “I was behind the sofa when I called Rogan. A necessary call, I felt at that point. And I admit it, I wanted to play with your heads a little. Lucky me, you happened to be grilling Cyrus at that precise moment. So you knew we were two. But then the dumb deputy came in, used the wall switch to turn on a lamp and—uh-oh, gotta go, beautiful. My so-called drug deal’s going down way out here on the West Coast.”

  “But why kill Wesley?”

  Robbie grinned in a way Victor never would. “Let’s say I was blowing off some badly needed steam. I’d rather have killed Rogan—favor to little bro,” he said with a wink. “But I’ll get to him in time. It’ll be a twofer in the end. You for me and Rogan for Victor, who’s been fighting me like a demon since he met you.” The ugliness returned to distort his features. “You were a thorn at first. Now you’re pure poison.”

  Jasmine stared, incredulous. Robbie’s life, his existence, was the raven’s tale retold. Did he realize that? Or had he simply tracked Daniel down in Raven’s Cove and the legend attached to it was just a freakish coincidence?

  Before panic overwhelmed her, she locked her eyes on his. “Cyrus knows about you, doesn’t he?”

  “Oh, applause, applause, the lady has a mind to go with her delectable body.” His face zoomed in close to hers. “Of course he knows. Will he stop me? No. Try? Yes. Win? Not a chance. Tell? Never.”

  For an instant, something glimmered in his eyes. Unless her own were playing tricks on her.

  Although her head wanted to crack in two screaming pieces, she made herself think. The answer was obvious—try to get Victor to come out. But how could she do that when she didn’t have a clue who Robbie was?

  Or did she?

  She’d had brief conversations with Victor about his family. His parents, his twin—and a long-dead older brother.

  “Robert,” she recalled. “You were named after your mother, Roberta.”

  “And yet more applause.” He stroked the tip of his gun over her cheek. “Maybe I should cut Victor a break. Not enough to save your irritating, interfering life, but give the boy credit. He didn’
t choose a dimwit this time.”

  “This time?” She stared. “You’ve done this before?”

  The gun dug in. “Her name was Coral. She was ten years older than Victor. A server in a bar, looking hard for a sugar daddy. But Victor worked. He was also sexually deprived. I’d been having all the fun, it seems. Too much fun, I realized later. He met Coral as a cop and held on through the night. Oops, problem coming. I waited and watched, and sure enough, the problem grew. So I nipped it.” He tapped her nose a little harder than was necessary. “Feel better now, beautiful? You’re not alone. Though I only did Coral back then, only needed to do her. With you, it’s been more of a hair-pulling, plot-twisting experience. With you, I’ve had to fight Victor every step of the way.”

  She noticed he was starting to perspire. Did that mean he was worried? Or just eager to get the job done?

  Robbie’s lips peeled back. “Forced confinement at the safe house put you front and center in his head. Victor started standing up to me. On occasion, he actually beat me down.” He wiped his upper lip with his gun hand. “I couldn’t kill you there—too many good cops around. And Rogan wanted you, which made it even more difficult. So I took the proverbial bull by the horns and made the proverbial phone call.”

  Shock momentarily blanked Jasmine’s mind. Robbie had contacted Wainwright, or someone connected to Wainwright. He’d sold out everyone at the safe house in an effort to strengthen his hold on Victor.

  But he hadn’t won. Not completely. Victor had helped Rogan get her out. He’d covered their escape. He’d taken down two of Wainwright’s men. …

  An eerie chuckle brought her back, and for the first time in several minutes, she noticed the storm outside.

  “They can’t help you, Jasmine. Not Rogan or Victor. Not this time.”

  Desperate eyes flew to the nearest window. Black raindrops streamed over black glass, while lightning bolts illuminated a black sky.

  Would Rogan find her? Would he figure it out?

  Robbie shoved his gun into her midsection. “I see the effects of my clever incendiary have worn off sufficiently for your little mind to be going wild. Too bad your energy’s wasted. I have a gun in my left hand, Jasmine, but—oh, my, what’s this? A boning knife in my right? How intriguing. But really not. You see, I’ve learned to use the fact that I’m left-handed and Victor’s right-handed to my advantage.”

  Her breathing grew slightly spasmodic. Could she reach Victor? Did he have any say in anything Robbie did at this point?

  With the knife now under her chin and the gun lodged in her rib cage, Robbie drew her to her feet. “What do you think, Jasmine?” He widened mocking eyes. “Should I kill you quickly out of necessity, or take my chances that your lover won’t come charging in, and make you suffer the way I did after Victor stabbed me? Do you know I hung on for three hellish days, fighting for my life while my mother cried and Victor and Cyrus lied and told everyone who’d listen that it was an accident?” He shoved her toward the door. “Hard to believe anyone would buy that, but unfortunately, morons are rampant. And in the end, my mother’s grief, coupled with Victor’s guilty conscience, did allow me to be reborn, so all was not lost. We live as one these days. And please don’t throw the raven’s tale in my face, because I am so truly sick of that comparison.”

  “From Victor?”

  “Well, yes… SINCE NO ONE ELSE KNOWS WE’RE SHARING HIS BODY!” Robbie gave her a hard push. “I came to this rat hole because your ex was here. The town and its legend factored into my confuse-the-hell-out-of-everybody plan, so sure, I used the feathers, the portents of death—just like I used Daniel.”

  “You wanted me to come to Raven’s Cove.”

  “Which you did with a little help from Rogan. In case you’re wondering, Daniel will receive that third feather. And he’ll die. Because, after all, he’s the one who opened the gates of hell.”

  She needed to keep him talking. “You killed Chief Cutless, didn’t you?”

  “Had to. He was snooping around the house on the hill. Looking for a grow-op, I imagine. Too bad he found me instead.”

  “You gave me two feathers in one night. …”

  “Speed-up plan.” He dismissed it. “Cyrus saw me in the hall, but he bolted when Rogan came looking. See how handy a twin can be…? Can sometimes be…?”

  He fell silent for a moment behind her. She felt him twitch, then heard him mutter something unintelligible. He shoved her again, gave another twitch and hissed through his teeth. His tone changed, went up and down, back and forth.

  Jasmine’s heart thumped. Was he having a conversation with Victor?

  Before she could speak, he made a strangled sound, stopped and spun her around. Agonized eyes bored into hers. “Why didn’t you run—Jasmine? I told you to—run.”

  She searched his face. “Victor?”

  His head snapped back and sharply sideways. As it did, she spied a movement in the kitchen.

  “Victor?” she whispered, but broke off when his head snapped back down.

  Not anymore.

  Spinning her again, Robbie wrapped his right arm around her throat and jabbed the tip of the knife up under her left breast.

  Jasmine didn’t so much struggle to escape as claw at his arm for air.

  A second later, the lights died, his gun went off and Daniel’s cottage came alive.

  Whether Robbie saw or sensed Rogan’s presence, Jasmine couldn’t say, but his gun was pointed toward the kitchen, and that made Rogan a target.

  She twisted in Robbie’s grasp, heard another bullet discharge and felt the knife slice through her sweater.

  A long, brilliant streak of lightning flashed. Robbie dragged her with him. Unfortunately, one of the paper towers toppled and he slipped, pulling her down on top of him.

  “Bitch,” he swore.

  On the floor, Jasmine fought to free herself. To her astonishment, she succeeded.

  “Go,” Rogan hissed. He pushed her toward the door.

  Before her head cleared, he and Robbie were gone.

  Books and bodies crashed. A gun went off three times.

  Determined to help, Jasmine crawled over slippery magazines to the fireplace. She located the poker, then swung around on her knees.

  “Show me,” she whispered.

  The lightning obliged.

  Scrambling upright, she bulldozed through the mess and rammed into a rock wall.

  Stumbling back, she brought the poker around in an arc. But at the last second, she heard a wheeze and let up.

  “Boxman?”

  He was soaked and dripping and so badly out of breath he couldn’t answer.

  Behind them, more books toppled.

  “She’s going to die! I’m going to kill her!”

  “Taking you out of here,” Boxman managed to say between heaves. “Rogan can handle him. … Aargh…”

  With no light to guide him, he tripped and lost his grip on Jasmine’s arm. As he lurched forward, he propelled her face-first into someone’s chest.

  The worst possible chest, she realized as Robbie’s hands clamped around her throat.

  “Vic—tor!” she choked above the thunder. “Don’t! You’re a police officer—not a murderer.” When his grip faltered, she grabbed his wrists, offered a desperate “I love you, Victor.”

  He hesitated, just for a second. She thought his eyes flickered. Then the lightning died, and his fingers were torn from her throat.

  When the lights came back on, Rogan had his left hand on a wall switch and a gun in his right extended and aimed at the killer’s chest.

  Victor froze. Except he was Robbie again. His fingers were splayed at his sides.

  “You won’t do it.” Saliva flecked the corner of his mouth. “You cops are all the same.”

  Rogan motioned with his gun. “Give me the knife you’ve got stashed up your sleeve, and we’ll end this thing peacefully, before anyone else dies. … Don’t be stupid,” he warned when Robbie feinted forward. “Because right now, you’re not
looking at a cop.”

  Jasmine held her breath as a knife slowly emerged from Robbie’s left sleeve.

  His mouth turned up. “Take it, then, Lieutenant. Take it and—”

  It happened so quickly, she almost missed the switch. One moment Robbie was giving Rogan the knife, the next it was in his right hand and jammed to his own breastbone.

  He backed away, his face a mask of distress.

  “Victor, no!” Cyrus crashed in through the kitchen. “Don’t do it. You didn’t kill him.”

  “Yeah, I did. I did kill him. And I’m going to kill him again.” Emotions raced across his face as he fought for control. He took another step back. “I’m sorry, Cyrus,” he said softly. Then to Rogan, “I didn’t mean to let him murder all those people.”

  “Jesus, Victor…” Rogan tried.

  Jasmine moved, but Boxman caught her. “Nuh-uh, not this time.”

  At a look from Cyrus, Rogan lowered his gun. “You don’t have to die, Victor.”

  Victor’s lips curved into a sad but familiar smile. “If I don’t, I’ll never be free.” Turning his head, he looked at Jasmine. “Thank you, beautiful,” he whispered.

  And clamping his left hand over his right, he thrust the blade into his heart.

  Epilogue

  “Of all the nightmarish things I’ve seen—and in the past two years, I’ve seen a lot—that was the absolute worst.”

  In the kitchen at Blume House, Jasmine circled while Riese made tea and Boxman glowered at Daniel. The only thing that changed the glower to a grin was the fact that Boris barked every time her ex tried to stand.

  “Look, I’m sorry Victor’s dead.” Daniel wiggled his fingers at the dog. “But is this virtual house arrest really necessary? We know who committed the murders and why—although I think he went overboard myself. We also know it’s finished. Victor as Robbie used the fact that Malcolm Wainwright’s body was never found to throw everyone off the scent, then he went on a rampage so he could kill the woman his alter, uh…hmm.” He scratched his jaw. “Tea almost ready there, Riese?”

  Boxman snorted. “For the record, Corey, none of this would have happened if you hadn’t poked your rodent nose in where it didn’t belong. Ignore the little twerp, Jasmine. Or better yet, order Boris to go for the throat so we won’t have to listen to any more of his drivel.”