by Cait London
Owen clicked off the tape. “Bastard. Robyn must have played these to Janice. She’s lucky I didn’t catch her.”
He sat down at the table and started up Robyn’s laptop. As he started searching its contents, Leona came to stand beside him. “Anything?”
“It’s strange that there is absolutely no e-mail on this machine. Robyn said she used it for contacting her family.” Owen nodded toward the screen, filled with swirling blue-and-green designs. He moved through several screens of designs, some gentle and some violent, the colors harsh. Stick people seemed to float around the designs. “That’s Janice’s work, but different. She used to draw horses and real people. She was good at layouts. Then she started on these primitive designs—they looked like something off a cave wall, hunters, men and women, fertility…Sometimes she’d work all night on them. She couldn’t rest until she finished them.”
Leona had caught something of those drawings when she’d calmed Janice—something given, something taken….
Owen reached down to pat Max, who had come to sit at his side. “She was caught in a living nightmare.”
“He likes that—games, playing with people. Owen, these are very hypnotic. The swirls…they’re almost like a path to the center. Look at that one. The swirl leads the stick figure down to—”
Owen leaned closer to the image. He traced the blue-green spiral down to a dark spot, then slammed his hand down on the table. “If that’s not a path into the water, I don’t know what is. I hope he enjoyed himself when she tried to drown herself. He should have had a real good laugh. The bastard has put her through hell.” He frowned. “But why Janice? She has nothing to do with the curse on your family.”
Suddenly he stopped and stared at Leona as if placing the pieces of a puzzle together. “Maybe he was preparing the bait—my sister. Just maybe he set this whole thing up. He’s evidently scouted this place. If he’s researched your family so closely, he might know about your being more susceptible near natural bodies of water—about the triangle where you’d be weak. Maybe you were the target. All this—the move here—could have been designed to get you. My sister was only a toy, bait to get to you somehow,” he added bitterly.
Leona shivered; her mind had already been running along the same track. “I might not have saved her. And I might not have saved myself.”
Owen got up abruptly and left the room. He returned with a thick dictionary of prescription drugs and his sister’s half-empty pill bottles and those made out to Robyn. “Good thing we didn’t pack Janice’s pills—you said to leave everything here. At the time, I felt bad having to ask your mother to fill her prescriptions again on top of everything else, but now I’m glad I have these. He poured the tablets onto a sheet of paper and methodically compared them to the drug information in the book. “Just like I thought. These pills aren’t the antidepressants Janice was prescribed. Most of these can cause anxiety if used wrong. Janice exhibited signs of that, just after Robyn moved in. She was probably giving them to my sister instead of her regular medicine.” He shook his head in disbelief. “And I left her in Robyn’s care.”
“While Janice is staying with my mother, she may not need any prescriptions. Owen, you can’t feel guilty about this.”
He was already on his feet, stalking back and forth across the kitchen. “I’m all Janice has, and I didn’t protect her.”
Leona remembered how she couldn’t protect her sisters in the Blair Institute for Parapsychology. “You can’t blame yourself.”
“You just blamed yourself again, didn’t you?” he asked sharply.
Shaken that he had just captured her fleeting thought, Leona shook her head. “How did you know that?”
Owen rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know. Maybe I just remember what you’d said earlier, about not protecting your sisters. I’m all worked up right now. I really think I could kill this guy pretty easily.”
“Why don’t you call the coroner instead and tell him about Robyn’s car?”
“That makes sense. I think we’ll replace her laptop there but keep the tapes and the drugs to ourselves for now.” Owen drew her close as if needing to hold her. “Better call your sisters and mother now. They’re probably worried.”
Leona snuggled close, holding him tightly in her arms. It was a good feeling to be needed, a comfort to a strong man. “They are. I felt that, too, out there.”
She looked up at him. “How did you know they are probably worried—just now?”
“It just came to me.” Owen bent down to kiss her softly. His hands opened and smoothed her back, then moved down to caress her bottom. His touch wasn’t sensual, just pleasant and affectionate. “Are you sure you can’t remember what you were thinking beside the car…honey?”
Honey. Owen wasn’t the kind of man to give endearments. He’d seemed to have chosen that one carefully. Alarms jingled all over Leona’s body, and the hair on her nape lifted. “Just what I told you.”
Owen’s strange behavoir, his questions about what Leona had been thinking, seemed very unusual. They seemed out of place with such danger surrounding them.
But then, playing in a psychic field where anything could happen didn’t leave much room for normal behavior.
“You’re pouting, aren’t you? What makes you think that I would close my shop—or let someone else run it—and leave Lexington, everything I have and built, because of this…monster? Of course, I won’t, Owen.”
In contrast to the traumatic day, cooking in the big farm kitchen that evening seemed almost too ordinary. She was hoping that her spaghetti and apple pie would take the edge off Owen’s brooding silence. She could brood as well as anyone, but Owen’s mood was stonier, darker, more savage. When he did speak, it was only to make his point that for her protection she should leave town. “I just need you somewhere safe until I can catch this creep.”
She hadn’t dealt with a man’s dark moods, even in her marriage. Though Owen was worth the effort, he was definitely not as easygoing as Joel—especially when set to win an argument. Cooking the meal had given Leona space and time to think.
Calls to her family also took time. Clearly Tempest and Claire were worried, their husbands ready to swoop down and protect Leona. Greer was deeply concerned, but there were odd layers to Leona’s mother now, as if she were blocking an intrusion into a very personal irritation—and uncertainty.
On the phone with her earlier, Leona had decided to ask the foremost question on her mind: “How’s life with a man like Kenneth Ragnar around the house?”
The spiking in Leona’s senses told her that Greer was surprised. Within one heartbeat, her mother regrouped and murmured smoothly, “That’s a very nice probe, dear. You are definitely getting stronger. Don’t forget to focus.”
“Kenneth is one of them, isn’t he? A Protector like Tempest’s and Claire’s husbands? Standing guard over their women, defending them?” Leona had teased. The thought that her mother could be irritated and uncertain, like any normal woman, was amusing. She hadn’t thought of her mother as anything other than cool and collected, filled with logic and capability.
Greer was definitely in a snit. It was the first time in Leona’s memory, and it was over a man. “He is Marcus’s father. They both come from Viking heritage, that’s all. He’s exhibiting signs of—never mind. It’s just irritating.”
Leona held very still, then set words to the warm flush and feminine fear she’d just received from Greer. “That’s all? He’s in pursuit, isn’t he, Mom? And you’re running, but—”
The sound of her mother’s abruptly inhaled breath and the little spiking prickles of temper caused Leona to smile. “Gotcha, didn’t I?”
“You could be very good, Leona. But in this case, please mind your own business. Kenneth seems to have taken over my home. He is a good influence on Janice, however. But he is always there—”
“Protecting?”
Greer sighed wearily. “Yes. Just give them all a shield and a sword, and they’re ready. Marcus th
ought it would be a good idea. He likes to run things, as you well know. Everyone, including you, seem to be enjoying Kenneth’s improvised stay at my house. Neil is in full support of Marcus’s silly idea. He’s usually so easygoing, but I couldn’t sway him to intervene for me. Neil just went into that male lockdown stance. Overly protective sons-in-law are not easy things to accept.”
“Maybe not overly protective. This beast means business.”
When the call had ended, Leona’s thoughts settled into circling the “beast.” As a boy, Vernon or perhaps someone else, the big blond with the blue eyes, had likely caused her father to be killed and others, too, including Robyn. “Accidental death, my foot.”
Meanwhile, Owen had been very careful to take Max around every foot of the house and acreage. He’d returned to settle down at the country-kitchen table. For a time, he was silent and impassive, and obviously deep in thought.
Then he’d begun to state his case that Leona should leave. His reasoning came in short bursts, an odd combination of harsh reality, practicality, and comfort. “Leona, this place is dangerous for you—the pond, water, river-triangle thing. The safest thing would be for you to visit your mother…until this guy is caught. And he will be. Nothing is going to happen to you or your family—or my sister.”
“You don’t have a chance without me, Owen. I’m what he wants. I’m the perfect bait. And this product, me—I, am not returnable. You are not shipping me off to my mother’s. I’m not going anywhere,” Leona stated. She wasn’t leaving Owen to face any danger alone, especially since he’d told her about the missing handgun. “Not a consideration. Don’t even think about it.”
Owen scowled at her. “You are one damn stubborn woman.”
Leona understood that Owen was upset on two levels. One, because she intended to face the monster who had stalked her family.
Number two was as yet uncertain, but seemed more personal.
One thing was certain. Owen’s hungry appetite at dinner pleased her. Was she getting to be old-fashioned, domesticated, wanting to feed her man and take away his worries sort of woman?
“Good,” he said, finishing his apple pie. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She began clearing the table, and he stood to help her. She sensed that he had something else he needed to say. As if sensing the human tension, too, Max watched them from the corner where he lay on a rug.
Leona’s hands were in the soapy dishwater when Owen suddenly said, “I loved a woman once.”
Number two had just popped up in a big flashing danger sign. Leona finished washing the dish, rinsed it under running water, and handed it to him. As if dealing with his thoughts, Owen slowly, methodically dried the dish. Unaccustomed to handling intimate emotions, Owen seemed to need to come the whole distance to her.
He slowly dried another dish, and Leona’s heart beat heavily. If Owen still loved the other woman, she could understand. At the same time, a sweet pain circled her.
That ache lightened miraculously when he said, “I loved her, but it’s different with you. That’s why nothing can happen to you.”
Owen’s expression darkened as he suddenly faced Leona. “He’s getting closer Leona. He’s been parking in the woods on the other side of that pond. He drove in from that old farm road. He hasn’t been in the house, or Max would have picked up his scent. By his tracks, I figure he’s over six feet by a few inches, maybe around two hundred pounds. And he’s probably got my father’s revolver. He’s done some clearing to make way for a heavy vehicle. Judging by the size of the rocks, and wood he’s moved, he’s strong. From the prints, he carried the rocks and that means he likes to keep in shape and do things himself—like killing.”
“But Owen, I didn’t see his tracks or any tire tracks other than Robyn’s.”
Owen shook his head. “They were there. We were exposed…I saw no point in telling you. I followed his tracks, where he stopped. He was watching us and moved to get better views. He’s a predator, an expert hunter, someone who enjoys stalking, and hiding and watching.”
Leona wrapped her arms around her chilled body. “And I felt him.”
“I don’t think he’s walking around in the open looking like the man in Janice’s sketch. Chances are, he’s in disguise. He could have been that man who came into your shop, the one you sensed was psychic. He knows how to change his appearance—maybe he’s someone with a stage background. If this guy is Vernon, he’s doing a damn fine job of disguising himself. We have to play this out very carefully.” Owen’s hands gripped her shoulders and pivoted her to him. “And you honestly think you can match this guy?”
“I didn’t say I wanted to match him. But I want to catch him. I have to.”
“Acting as bait is the dumbest thing I ever heard,” Owen stated flatly.
“I thought we’d decided that he’d arranged this whole thing, setting up Janice to connect with me. She was the bait, then, Owen. I want to be the bait now. All I want is a chance at him.”
“You’re not getting it.”
“Owen, don’t tell me what I’m not going to do.”
“Okay, I’ll tell you what you are going to do. Pack up your things, close your shop, and wait this out with your mother.”
Before she could react, Leona glimpsed Owen’s determined expression. A heartbeat later, he pulled Leona into his arms, his lips hard and demanding upon hers.
Caught on the edge of her emotions, Leona didn’t hesitate. She reacted immediately and threw herself into their hunger.
Rolf smiled into the darkness. “Leona got the message. She’s afraid—I saw how she acted when Shaw was inside Robyn’s car. Fear is good. I can feed on that. That damn dog. I had to use binoculars to keep out of his scent, and that put me too far away. But I’ll get them both, Borg.”
Far away from the farm, Rolf stood on another hill. Moonlight spread over the Shaw farm, and he focused his binoculars on Shaw’s house. Near the farmhouse, the tall pole light revealed everything perfectly. The lights had just gone out, and fury rose in him. “The prey is staying the night. Isn’t that sweet?”
He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, rage building inside him. “I should kill them both now and put an end to it. I could make it look like—Now that’s interesting,” Rolf stated as he picked up his binoculars again.
Shaw’s pickup had just raced out of the driveway.
Rolf swung the binoculars back to the farmhouse. Shaw stood on the lit front porch, his hands on his hips, his chest bare. “My, my. Trouble in paradise. Don’t you just love it, Borg?”
Climbing back into his SUV, he eased it down the hill and onto the highway. If Leona returned to her home, he had work to do. Without Shaw around, she’d be more receptive, more fearful, and Rolf really liked his prey’s fear.
He decided to give Leona time to settle into her home, then he would begin….
Two hours later, Rolf cursed furiously as he drove away from Leona’s home. “She brought that damn animal home with her. From the way he hit her windows, he could have ripped out my throat. I couldn’t get close enough to play. I’m going to take care of that damn dog.”
Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best way to handle Leona. Owen admitted to himself the next morning as his hired cab pulled up to Leona’s house. His truck sat in her driveway.
Max came running out to meet him. Then Leona’s front door closed firmly. After last night’s fiery, hurried lovemaking session at the farm, Leona had scrambled from his bed, dragging her clothes up in front of her. Flushed and angry, her eyes had flashed at him. “Well, that didn’t settle anything, did it? I want to go home. Now. Either take me, or I’m calling a cab.”
At the time, Owen had thought her passionate response to him had settled quite a bit. “You’re not leaving here until I have your promise that you’ll leave Lexington.”
By the time he’d finished speaking, Leona had dragged on her clothing—somewhat. Apparently, a really mad woman didn’t need her underwear to move quickly. Then she h
ad grabbed his truck keys on her way out of the bedroom. Before Owen could get on his jeans, Max had barked and the front door slammed. He had gone outside just in time to see his pickup’s tires spinning up gravel. More gravel flew as the pickup raced down the winding driveway to the county road. In the lit pickup cab, Max had been beside Leona, and Owen had been alone.
He’d sat down to eat a large slice of apple pie and brood.
As he waded through the apples and cinnamon, he had compared the flaky crust with the different layers of Leona Chablis. The woman could cook.
This morning, as he stood looking at Leona’s closed front door, Owen thought of other things she did well. Maybe he’d made a mistake by laying down the law as he’d heard his father do. But then, Owen’s handling of emotional women, those he wanted to keep in his bed, had been minimal.
He began to walk up to the front door; when it opened, he hesitated and waited for Leona to appear. Instead, his pickup keys landed on the walkway bricks in front of him. A feminine hand placed his new laptop in front of the door. Then it closed again.
Owen had braced himself to apologize, to back up and rephrase his “dumbest thing” he’d ever heard. But Leona’s plan to use herself as bait didn’t make any sense. “I’m right, aren’t I, Max?” he asked the dog.
Max turned and walked back to the pickup, then sat and wagged his tail.
Owen took the hint. Maybe right now wasn’t the best time to try to talk sense to his woman.
Besides, he had other things to do.
Eleven
“OWEN PROVIDED SOME HELPFUL INFORMATION, MOM. Unfortunately, that description could match any handyman’s,” Leona stated in her call to Greer.
