Souls Estranged (The Souls Trilogy Book 2)

by Anne B. Cole

  Ten minutes later she entered the department store. A sign in the window advertised a summer clearance. She hit the swimsuit rack.

  With her navy tankini purchase in hand, Gretta smiled at the cashier and pushed open the door. Her feet froze to the pavement. A white van had parked beside her car on the driver’s side despite several open parking spots in the lot.

  Willing her feet to move forward, she stared at the empty front seat of the white van. She unlocked her car door with her key instead of the clicker and entered from the passenger side. Slamming the door shut and locking it, Gretta dared to glance at the white van.

  Nothing.

  “I’m a paranoid idiot,” she muttered to herself before climbing into the driver seat and starting the engine. Pulling out of the parking lot, she checked her rearview mirror.

  Nothing.

  “Idiot,” Gretta repeated and upped the radio’s volume.

  At the edge of town, a flash of white appeared in her side mirror. A white van pulled in line behind her, with three cars between them. She slowed down. One of the cars passed her. A second one left for the highway. A beat up red car remained between her and the van.

  Gretta drove the speed limit with her heart palpitating in her throat. About a mile later, the white van turned into a narrow drive.

  “Thank God.” Her shoulders relaxed as she doubled back to the street where she had spotted the truck similar to Sam’s.

  Gone.

  She cranked the radio louder to get her mind off Sam. When she scanned the streets for the blue truck, her blood ran cold. The white van loomed behind a green sedan, directly behind her.

  Gretta sped out of town. Both vehicles continued at a discreet distance behind her. Knowing cell service in the valley was little to non-existent, she passed the road leading to the cabin and continued to drive well over the speed limit.

  She needed a direct phone line to call Ryan. A mile down the road, she saw the diner where she had met the Glenns. She swerved into the parking lot without signaling, and both the car and van passed the diner.

  The van wasn’t following. Get a grip on yourself.

  Gretta stepped out of the car on wobbly legs. Stumbling through the door, the lunch crowd stared at her for a moment before going back to their meals.

  Everyone must think I’m crazy.

  “Have a seat, I’ll be right with you. Coffee?” a waitress called to her from the window open to the kitchen.

  “Tea, please,” she managed to respond before collapsing into the nearest booth. She put her head back against the wall and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself.

  I’m fine. No one is following me.

  The tinkling of bells attached to the diner’s door sounded in Gretta’s head. She squeezed her eyes shut and refused the urge to run.

  I’m safe. No one is following me.

  When her heart steadied, she opened her eyes to a tall figure looming over her.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Gretta gasped as Ryan grabbed her roughly by the arm and pulled her out of her seat. A rush of tears slid down her cheeks. The tension in his grip heightened her panic.

  Safe. Ryan is safe.

  When Gretta took in a shaky breath to respond, he sighed and pulled her into a warm embrace.

  “She okay?” The waitress asked as she brought over a pot of coffee.

  Gretta wiped her cheeks and nose.

  “Where’s Rachel?” Gretta heard the waitress ask as she filled Ryan’s cup with coffee.

  Ryan released his viselike grip on her arm before sliding her back in the booth. After sending a text on his cell phone, he sat across from her, furious.

  “Rachel’s at a conference up north this week. Thanks for the coffee, Paula.” Ryan’s strained voice contained his anger.

  Gretta had never seen him this upset before. When the waitress left their table, she picked up her tea bag but couldn’t steady her fingers.

  “What happened?” He remained stern, but his hands gently wrapped around hers and took the tea bag away.

  Safe. I’m safe.

  Another round of tears flowed. He waited patiently as she hiccupped garbled words which made no sense. A napkin found its way to her hand. She wiped her face and blew her nose.

  Ryan sipped his coffee. He frowned and nudged the untouched tea to her.

  “Mom called me when she got your message.” He handed her another napkin.

  “I’m sorry. I had to email the Glenns and my mom.” Gretta tried to stop her lips from quivering as his stare intensified. “I—I needed a swimsuit for this weekend.”

  His mouth widened in a grin. “Trying to impress Chuck?”

  “Chuck?” Gretta had completely forgotten about Ryan’s brother. “I thought I saw Sam’s truck and then a white van followed me all the way from town to here. I stopped here to call you but it drove past.”

  “What van?” His voice lowered an octave.

  Gretta relayed the morning’s events, adding, “I’m sure paranoia just got the best of me.”

  “I drove to the library and couldn’t find you. Had half the department searching. Luckily, I spotted your car in the lot out front. Damn it Gretta, until we catch this guy—” He pulled off his ball cap and buried fingers through thick brown hair. His elbows thumped on the table.

  “You two hungry?” Paula asked from across the dining room.

  Ryan scrutinized Gretta before answering, “I have to get Sis home. Thanks again for the coffee.” He brought out his wallet, tossed cash on the table, and pulled Gretta to her feet. “I’m driving her back to the Glenn’s cabin. Is it okay if we leave her car here for a while?”

  Paula nodded and poured coffee at another table.

  Feeling grateful but guilty, Gretta followed Ryan to his truck.

  At the cabin, he locked her in the vehicle while he checked the grounds. Within five minutes, he returned and together they entered the cabin. Once inside, he secured both doors and set the alarm. Ryan sank onto the couch and made a phone call.

  “I found her, Mom.” He paused. “No, I’m staying here until my shift starts in a couple of hours.”

  Gretta’s heart wrenched. She left the living room, wishing she could call her own mother. She missed her and needed to hear her reassuring voice. From the kitchen, she heard Ryan toss the phone on the coffee table. Pulling a stick of cookie dough out of the refrigerator, she returned to the living room.

  “Sorry, I lost it earlier. This case has me paranoid. I need you to stay here so I can work tonight’s shift. Tomorrow, Rachel, you, and I will be on vacation for the weekend.”

  “And Chuck,” Gretta added.

  “And Chuck.” Ryan accepted the stick of dough she offered.

  “You’re feeling better,” he mumbled around a mouthful of chocolate chip dough.

  Gretta snagged the dough and took her own bite as he leaned back and closed his eyes.

  “Get some sleep.” She tucked the old quilt over him, curled up in the chair across from the couch, and dozed off.

  The chirp of an incoming text woke her.

  Ryan checked his phone. “It’s Rachel.”

  “How is she?” Gretta hadn’t seen her friend in over two weeks.

  “Says she’s going out tonight with friends.” His forehead crinkled.

  “You told me she didn’t know anyone at this conference.”

  “She didn’t. Must have made friends. They’re having dinner and drinks in the Strip District.” He tucked his phone into his jeans and smoothed his unruly hair before pulling on his ball cap.

  Gretta peeked at the clock. Four-thirty. His gaze followed hers.

  “Gotta report into work. Don’t hesitate to call me.” Ryan picked up the cabin pho
ne and set it on the end table. “I hired Al to guard the gate at the bottom of the mountain tonight. No one in or out. You’re on lockdown, Sis. No excuses.”

  The fire in his eyes scared her. When he ruffled her hair, the tension in her shoulders released.

  “I’ll see you at six, tomorrow morning.” He left.

  Gretta locked the door, set the alarm, and walked to the kitchen window. A mournful cry snapped her attention to the pantry.

  That is not a mouse.

  Chapter 44

  Prisoner

  Gretta

  Crying?

  Emeye stood on her hind legs and clawed the pantry door.

  Gretta opened it. The distinct sound of muffled crying grew louder. After pulling the garbage bin to the side, she walked in. Grabbing a flashlight off the wall shelf, she clicked it on. The mournful cry halted when her elbow knocked into an old mop, launching numerous items to the floor. Bending to pick up a can of beans, she noticed a small switch beneath the canned goods shelf.

  Needing more light, she flipped the switch. A crack pierced the air. Some kind of mechanism groaned and the floor moved. She stepped back as a section of phony tile slid away.

  She gazed down dark, narrow stairs.

  Eerie silence filled the pantry. Gretta’s heart raced as she strained to listen. Emeye scampered around her feet. Flashing the light after the cat, Gretta descended nine wooden steps.

  Her bare feet touched a cool dirt floor. To the right, Emeye pawed another door. A faint bluish light emitted from the crack beneath it. No sounds. Gretta twisted the knob with a click.

  Instantly the moaning returned, increasing in pitch. Pushing the door open, her flashlight danced upon a human skeleton hanging from the ceiling.

  Gretta clamped her hand over her mouth, hearing her screams echo off blood red walls. She stumbled back to the steps, tripping on her own feet.

  The crying continued with renewed energy. Someone needs help.

  Gathering her courage, she flashed her light through the open door. Its beam lingered on the bones. They appeared so very real. Leathery patches of skin concealed some of the wires which had pieced them together. Clumps of hair clung to the skull. A strong scent of chemicals hung in the air despite the hum of a fan at the foot of the remains.

  Gretta forced her feet forward, closer to the persistent moaning. She had to turn sideways to pass the dangling remains. Scanning the dimly lit room, her limited vision fell upon a woman lying on a piece of plywood which rested on two sawhorses. A red bandana gagged her mouth. Her wrists and ankles were bound with duct tape to holes cut into the board.

  Flashing the light about the woman’s face, she recognized terror filled eyes.

  “Rachel?” Gretta ran to her and tore at her taped wrists, but found it impossible to loosen. Clasping her cheeks in both hands, Gretta gently lifted Rachel's head.

  Clicking sounded. From behind the bandana gag, Rachel shrieked and pulled against her restraints. Gretta removed the gag and held her by the shoulders, trying to comfort her. After several seconds, Rachel slipped into unconsciousness.

  “Rachel, wake up.” Gretta found a tube attached to Rachel’s left arm, leading to an IV bag on a shelf above her head. Next to the bag was a box with buttons and lights on it. Two blinked red. Thinking this was the mechanism controlling the flow of some type of drug, she flipped all the switches and yanked the tube out of Rachel’s arm.

  “I have to get you out of here.” Gretta picked at the layers of tape around her friend’s wrists, tearing her short nails. “I need a knife.”

  She scanned the cramped surroundings. Narrow shelves lined three walls, leaving little room to walk around Rachel. The back wall contained another door. Imagining the layout of the cabin, she figured it led to an area behind the little house.

  “I bet there’s an entrance under the shed. That creep in the flannel shirt can come and go any time he wants.” Horrified, she spun around. Monitor screens lined the top shelves, casting a bluish hue in the otherwise unlit room.

  “We need to get out of here.” She continued searching for anything to help cut the tape when she saw the cabin’s living room on one screen.

  Scanning the monitors, she watched Emeye saunter to her water dish in the kitchen. Views of the porch and her bedroom loft appeared on two others. A fourth screen remained blue, and the last blinked white. All five monitors were connected by wires to the main base. A single wire led from this device up through the ceiling.

  “There’s the black wire I noticed in the pantry. He’s been watching me all summer.”

  With trembling hands, Gretta picked up a remote control from the shelf. Pressing the arrow buttons, she was able to rewind the screens a few hours to when Ryan slept soundly on the couch. She hit the remote again, and the blank screen blinked. No picture appeared, but she heard birds.

  “Birds? It has to be an audio device.”

  Someone had been watching and listening to her every move.

  The remote clattered to the hard dirt floor.

  “The creep is using this cabin as a hideaway for his next victim.” She spun to Rachel’s side.

  Gretta grabbed her by the shoulders and lifted her body up as far as her binds would allow. Rachel moaned but didn’t wake. She had to cut the tape and get them both out of the cabin. Scanning the shelves above Rachel’s head, her eyes fixed upon a row of pictures.

  The first showed a man with a much younger woman on his arm. The woman wore a red strapless dress. Both held a glass of wine or champagne in their hands and displayed smiles.

  Gretta’s skin crawled at the sight of the second photo. A slight woman, blonde, about the same age as the first, wore what appeared to be an identical red dress. But this woman’s wrists were bound with silver tape. Her round blue eyes expressed sheer terror.

  The third photo mirrored the second with the same type of despair. This woman appeared even thinner, as if she were starved.

  Gretta cradled Rachel’s face between her hands, unable to bring her around. She appeared thinner than the last time she saw her. “The murderer drugs and starves his victims to death.”

  “Ryan,” Rachel moaned.

  Gretta needed to get her out and call Ryan. The killer kidnapped Rachel and must have put her into this cellar days ago. She remembered first hearing the cry Monday, the day Rachel left for Pittsburgh.

  But Ryan received a text from Rachel today.

  She searched Rachel’s pockets for a phone and came up empty. Rachel cried out again. She appeared to be coming around and fought to focus on Gretta.

  “I’m going to run upstairs and call Ryan.”

  Rachel rocked her head back and forth.

  “No? I have to call him and get you out of here.” She moved to go upstairs, but Rachel’s voice stopped her.

  “Don’t call. He’s going to kill you too.” Her voice faded out.

  “Who? Who did this to you? Who’s watching me?” Gretta demanded.

  “If you call, he will kill you too.” Rachel thrashed against her bound wrists.

  Gretta froze, too stunned to move.

  Rachel doesn’t want me to call Ryan. Could he be the killer?

  Thinking back to June, Ryan had arrived at the cabin within minutes after she saw the stranger trying to get into the cabin. He didn’t have a red flannel shirt on like the stranger did, but had time to change.

  Two weeks later, he arrived at the library she just happened to be at after the white van followed her.

  Just hours ago, he claimed he was lucky to see her car at the diner.

  “Hold still, Rachel. I’ll get you out of here.”

  “He’s coming back.” Rachel looked at the monitors. Her lips quivered.

  “I’ll keep you safe, Rachel. I’ll keep him away from you.
No one is going to hurt you.”

  “Ryan. Please—” Rachel struggled to get free.

  “Ryan won’t hurt you. I’m going upstairs to get help.”

  “No. Gretta?” Rachel’s confusion confirmed her drugged state.

  Gretta raced out, brushing past the skeletal remains and hurrying up the stairs. She knocked into the kitchen garbage bin on her way to the living room, scattering trash all over the floor.

  Reaching the door, she flung it open, knowing this action would activate the alarm. Next, she ran to the end table to grab the cabin cell phone.

  It wasn’t there.

  “Where did I put it?” she cried.

  The old fashioned ring tone of the cabin phone sounded behind her. A dreadful feeling churned her stomach. She spun around in terror.

  “Looking for this?”

  The relief she felt when she faced a stranger, not Ryan, lasted a split second, swept away by intense horror. The evilness in his eyes focused on her.

  He answered the phone on the second ring, gave the password, and apologized for the inconvenience. He closed the phone and pocketed it in the same red flannel shirt he wore back in June, when she had seen him on the cabin steps.

  “Sit down, Gretta. I’d like to tell you a story,” he began.

  Gretta tried to get away, but he stepped in front of the door. If she ran to the kitchen, he would catch her before she could crawl through the window. With no other option, she sat on the couch. Think. Keep calm and think.