The Fifth Victim

by Beverly Barton

  “You know it.” Dallas rose from his chair.

  “We’ll head over to the courthouse just as soon as you go upstairs and see Genny.”

  “I can’t.” Dallas avoided direct eye contact with Jacob.

  “You can and you will. She’s up there waiting for you. She didn’t understand why you weren’t there when she woke up.”

  Jacob clamped his hand down on Dallas’s shoulder. Their gazes locked and held, two fierce combatants, neither giving an inch.

  “How do I face her after what happened?” Dallas glanced away first.

  Jacob released his tenacious hold on Dallas’s shoulder. “She’s not going to blame you. Nobody holds you responsible for what happened, except you.”

  “How would you feel if you’d been the one who was supposed to be guarding her?”

  “I’d feel just like you do. But I’d suck it up and go on with what had to be done. I’d face my worst fear. I’d walk into that ICU unit and let Genny know that I hadn’t deserted her, that I never would.”

  Five minutes later, Dallas stood outside Genny’s ICU cubicle, his hands sweating and his stomach tied in knots. Jazzy glanced up from where she sat by Genny’s bed, smiled at him, and motioned for him to come on in. He hesitated, his heart hammering in his ears. Jazzy said something to Genny, then got up and walked toward him.

  She paused beside him and said quietly, “It’s about time you showed up. Genny’s been about to fret herself to death about you. Now get your ass in there and tell that woman you love her and you’re sorry you worried her.”

  Dallas let out a pent-up breath, nodded, and forced his legs into action. When he was halfway across the cubicle, Genny saw him. For the rest of his life he’d remember the look on her face. Joy. No other word could describe her expression.

  “Dallas.” Her soft voice was terribly weak.

  He all but ran the last few feet to her bedside.

  “I’ve been so worried about you,” she said and lifted her trembling hand.

  Dallas grabbed that small, delicate hand and brought it to his mouth, kissed it, then held it to his cheek. She was the one who’d been shot— because he’d been lax in his attention for a couple of minutes—yet she was the one worried about him.

  “I thought I’d die,” he said, choking on his emotions.

  “I would have felt the same if you’d been hurt. But you can stop hurting now. Release the pain. Let it go. I’m going to be all right. What happened wasn’t your fault.”

  He swallowed hard, then kissed her hand again several times before he leaned over and kissed her mouth tenderly. “I love you, Genny Madoc.”

  “I know. I love you, too.”

  Dallas sat across the room in the corner while Jacob questioned Esther Stowe. Her husband was cooling his heels in another room, waiting for his lawyer. Esther had waived her rights to have an attorney present, telling them that she hadn’t done anything wrong.

  “I didn’t have anything to do with shooting your cousin,” Esther said. “Why would I want to hurt her?”

  “You tell me,” Jacob said. “Why would you or your husband want to kill Genny?”

  Esther shrugged.

  “We have a witness who saw your husband leaving the scene of the crime,” Jacob said, stretching the truth slightly. “And that witness saw Reverend Stowe get into your car. Were you with him? Did you sit there and wait for him while he staked out Genny’s house and shot her the minute she walked outside?”

  “I didn’t go anywhere with him. He drove off like a madman after we had an argument. How am I supposed to know what he was doing out in the woods? Besides, maybe your witness was wrong, maybe—”

  “Does your husband own a rifle?”

  “He has several rifles. Haden likes to hunt.”

  “If the bullet the doctor dug out of Genny’s back matches one of your husband’s rifles, then we’ll have all the evidence the district attorney will need to prosecute the reverend for attempted murder.”

  “Okay, let’s say he did try to kill her.” Esther glanced at Dallas standing beside the window, then looked right at Jacob. “It’s nothing to do with me. I wasn’t with him. I’m not a part of it.”

  Jacob continued questioning Esther for a good thirty minutes, then took a break. Dallas figured he realized he wasn’t going to break Mrs. Stowe. She was as tough as nails.

  Jacob called Tewanda, who’d skipped her classes today just so she could pull a double shift and help out. The young deputy came to the office door and waited.

  “Take Mrs. Stowe with you,” Jacob said. “Get her something to drink and find her a place to relax for a few minutes.”

  After Tewanda escorted Esther from the room, Jacob shut the door and turned to Dallas. “I didn’t do a very good job with her.”

  “You did fine. She’s not going to tell you anything. As long as you don’t have anything on her, she isn’t worried. Even if people find out that she practices some form of devil worship and claims to be a witch, neither is actually a crime, not unless you can prove she’s responsible for the animal sacrifices. As for her husband—she doesn’t give a rat’s ass if you nail his hide to the wall.”

  Dallas went over to the coffeemaker and poured two mugs full of the dark brew, handed one to Jacob, then took a sip from his.

  “Tim’s bringing Tommy Patrick in. They should be here soon. If Tommy can ID Haden Stowe, we won’t have to wait any longer to arrest the bastard.”

  “Even if your guy can’t positively ID Stowe, you should be able to get a search warrant for the parsonage. My bet is you’ll find the gun Stowe used, as well as the shoes and coat he wore. It’s only a matter of a little lab work and you’ll have this case sewed up.”

  Someone knocked on the door. Dallas and Jacob turned just in time to see a stout, middle-aged man in a three-piece suit ease the door open and poke his head in to test the waters.

  “Come on in, Maxie,” Jacob said, then made an introduction. “Special Agent Dallas Sloan, let me introduce you to Maxwell Fennel, Reverend Stowe’s attorney.”

  “May I come in?” Maxwell asked.

  Jacob motioned him in. “Have you seen your client yet?”

  “Just talked to him. He’s a sorry sight. Pretty busted up about what happened. The man’s on the verge of a nervous breakdown.”

  Jacob harrumphed. “You aren’t planning on trying to use an insanity plea, are you?”

  “Look, Jacob,” Maxwell said, “the thing is, the good reverend has instructed me to tell you that he’s ready to sign a confession. He says he shot Genny.”

  Chapter 25

  Esther Stowe had become a liability since her husband’s arrest five days ago. He couldn’t allow her to live. She had deserted her husband without blinking an eye. The little witch could betray him just as easily. By now Sloan and Butler had probably figured out that their killer was a member of Esther’s coven, so it was only a matter of time before they asked her for names. When they did, she might hold out for a while, but not for long. Not if she thought helping the law would work to her advantage. He knew she’d wind up giving them the names of the other satanists. He couldn’t risk more suspicion falling on him. At this point they had no real evidence against him. He wanted to keep it that way.

  Once again Fate had decreed who the next victim would be. He smiled to himself, thinking how shocked the high priestess would be when she realized she had become the sacrificial lamb. He considered it simply poetic justice that someone who had slaughtered so many animals in her quest to do the devil’s bidding would in the end die in a similar manner.

  He picked up the telephone receiver and dialed her number. She answered on the third ring. “Esther, my little lamb, I want to see you.”

  “So, come on over,” she said. “Haden’s still in jail. I’m sure as hell not posting his bond.”

  “Why don’t you come here instead? I’ll fix dinner, open a bottle of wine, and we can…enjoy ourselves.”

  “Sure, why not? It’ll give me som
ething to do. I’ve been told not to leave town.”

  “I look forward to our evening together.”

  “Right. Me, too. I could use a diversion, something wild and funky to take my mind off my problems.”

  Just the thought of her naked body aroused him. He licked his lips. He could almost taste her blood.

  “I promise you the wildest night of your life.”

  After she’d been placed in a private room three days ago, Genny had asked the nurses not to give her any more pain medication, but Jacob had instructed them to disregard her protests. If only she had some of Granny’s healing herbs, she could discontinue the narcotics. Sally had told her she’d go to the house, get her whatever she needed, and slip it in to her room. But Jazzy, knowing both her aunt and Genny quite well, had figured out what they were up to and had intercepted the contraband herbs.

  Although she’d been in the hospital only five days, she felt as if it had been five weeks. The drugs induced odd, meaningless dreams and somehow made her more aware of colors and light. Everything seemed too bright, too vivid. But her usual sixth-sense abilities were dulled by the painkillers. She picked up on things, bits and pieces of thoughts and feelings, but it was all fragmented. Her gift of sight had become cloudy, as if she were looking through muddy water instead of sparkling clean spring water.

  Thankfully, just this morning the doctor had agreed to lower the dosage of her medication. Already she felt better, more like herself, although her psychic abilities remained subdued.

  Since she’d been moved from ICU, she had received so many flowers that her room was beginning to look like a florist shop. Dallas alone kept The Cherokee Flower Box busy. Every day a new bouquet of roses arrived from him. Red roses. Pink roses. Yellow roses. Peach roses. White roses. And every day Dallas visited her at mealtimes and bullied her into eating. Dallas, Jazzy, and Jacob were the only three people allowed to come and go at all hours. So many friends and acquaintances had paraded in and out of her hospital room that the nurses had been forced to limit her visitors. Although allowed to visit only once a day, Brian and Royce called several times daily to check on her. And Ludie and Sally had been caught sneaking into her room more than once for a second daily visit. The nurses had nabbed the old ladies; whichever deputy was on guard duty outside her door at any given time knew both women and apparently didn’t have the heart to turn them away.

  Jazzy cracked the door and poked her head in. When she saw that Genny was awake, she smiled and walked into the room.

  “How’s it going this evening? You’re looking even better than you did this morning.”

  “The doctors finally put me on a lower dosage of pain medication, so I’m feeling much better. More like myself.”

  “Do you think you’re doing well enough to hear a news update?”

  Genny nodded, then braced herself, uncertain what Jazzy might tell her.

  Jazzy removed her coat, folded it, and laid it at the foot of the bed. “Maxwell Fennel has gotten two psychiatrists to swear Haden Stowe is crazy.”

  “I see. So that means he probably won’t be sent to prison.”

  “Yeah, if the court-appointed psychiatrist agrees. If not, things could drag on for a while.”

  “How are Dallas and Jacob taking this latest turn of events?”

  Jazzy clenched her teeth as she grimaced. “They don’t think he’s nuts. They think he’s faking it. And believe me, both of them would like to personally rip Reverend Stowe from limb to limb.”

  “Neither of them will tell me anything about the murder cases,” Genny said. “And they’ve made sure I don’t see any local news. Would you please tell me, have there been any new developments?”

  “You want to know if he’s killed the fourth victim, don’t you?”

  “Since we’re all ninety-nine percent sure I’m his intended fifth victim, yes, I’d like to know if I’m now next in line.”

  “There haven’t been any more murders.” Jazzy sat on the edge of the bed and squeezed Genny’s hand. “Now that you know, let’s change the subject.”

  “Thanks for telling me at least that much.” Genny had to admit that spending day after day in a hospital bed, relying on others for her needs, gave her much too much time to think. And to worry. “How’s the new bouncer working out? Has he kicked Jamie’s butt again?”

  “Everything in my life is just fine, except for the fact that my best friend got herself shot. As for the new bouncer—he’s working out all right. Nobody’s even tried to give him any trouble.” Jazzy grinned. “Not even Jamie.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Yeah.” Jazzy glanced at her watch.

  “You really don’t have to stay with me until Dallas gets here. I’m perfectly fine by myself. After all, there’s a deputy outside all the time.”

  “I’m not going anywhere until Dallas gets here at eight o’clock.”

  “It’s ridiculous that he thinks he has to stay all night, every night.”

  “Let the guy do what he wants to do.” Jazzy got up, walked across the room, and dragged a chair next to the bed. “Believe me, he’s sleeping better here curled up in a chair than he would back at his cabin. Honey, that guy is so crazy in love with you he can’t see straight.”

  “And I’m crazy in love with him, too.” Genny burrowed the back of her head deeper into the pillow, closed her eyes, and smiled.

  “Want to watch An Affair to Remember? It’s on the movie channel at six-thirty.” Jazzy tapped the face of her chunky silver watch. “Five minutes till show time.”

  “Sounds great.” Over the years, Genny had watched many an old movie with her best friend. One of Jazzy’s passions was classic movies. Especially romances.

  Jazzy turned on the TV, kicked off her shoes, and flopped into the chair. Genny relaxed and waited for the movie to start. They chitchatted for several more minutes, but once Cary Grant appeared on screen, Jazzy didn’t say another word.

  About an hour into the movie, Genny began to feel drowsy. She did her best to fight the grogginess, but finally she couldn’t resist. She closed her eyes.

  Dark swirling mists appeared in her mind. Deep purple fog grew darker and darker until black clouds swept away the mist. A woman was weeping, pleading for mercy. She didn’t want to die. Tears streamed down her face. Genny saw the silhouette of a face blurred by some sort of veil. She tried to see the face, but something held the veil in place.

  She heard the woman’s thoughts. Help me! Oh, Divine Lucifer, I am your devoted servant. Do not forsake me.

  Esther Stowe!

  Genny didn’t need to see the face to know who the woman was. Why was she having a vision about Esther? Would Esther actually become the killer’s fourth victim? Could Genny trust her eschewed senses?

  Clear your mind, Genny told herself. Don’t focus on Esther. You tried focusing on Misty Harte, but it didn’t lead you to her in time to save her. You know who you must contact. If you can get inside his head, there’s a chance you can save Esther and yourself.

  The darkness returned, but this was a different obsidian realm. More evil. And the presence she sensed was far more diabolical. He was as wicked and perverse as the devil Esther Stowe had tried to summon.

  Who are you? Genny asked.

  Genevieve Madoc, is that you?

  She’d made the connection! Heaven help her.

  I’ve wondered how long it would take you to visit me, he said, but Genny didn’t recognize his voice because he spoke to her without a voice. Mind to mind. Thought waves.

  Do you have Esther Stowe with you right now? Genny asked.

  That isn’t what you really want to ask me, is it?

  Are you going to kill Esther? Will she be your fourth victim?

  At dawn tomorrow, she will be sacrificed. And then, I will come for you.

  Fear ate away at Genny’s mind like a burning acid. And that fear broke the link to the killer’s mind.

  Genny cried out, “No, no. Come back.”

  Suddenly stro
ng arms grabbed Genny and held her. Somewhere outside herself, in a reality far removed from the inner struggle tormenting her, she heard people talking.

  “What the hell happened?” Dallas asked in an angry voice.

  “I don’t know,” Jazzy replied. “She fell asleep while we were watching the movie. I thought she was resting until she started twisting and turning and mumbling. I tried to wake her, but she didn’t respond.”

  Dallas shook Genny very gently. “Genny, sweetheart, wake up. Do you hear me? Come back to me right now.”

  Genny’s eyelids fluttered. She tried her best to leave the depths of her subconscious, but something held her there.

  “Get a nurse,” Dallas said.

  “She doesn’t need a nurse,” Jazzy told him. “I’ve seen her like this before. Many times. She’s having a problem returning to reality, to true consciousness. Keep talking to her.”

  Jazzy moved to the other side of the bed and sat, then began patting Genny’s cheeks. “Open your eyes. I know it’s not easy, but you can do it. Come on. Work at it. Listen to my voice and to Dallas’s voice.”

  “Genny, you’ve got to come back to me,” Dallas said. “Jazzy’s right. You can do it.”

  She could feel Jazzy’s hands on her face, could hear their voices, sense their concern. She felt as if she were drowning in a pool of darkness, and the harder she tried to make her way to the surface, the stronger the stygian force became, pulling her deeper and deeper into a terrifying abyss.

  Dallas, please help me. Pull me out of this darkness. I can’t do it alone. She felt his strength and understood how desperately she needed it. If he connected with her, she could absorb the power coursing through him and free herself.

  She sensed his surprise at being able to hear her. Genny, you need to open your eyes and look at me. Communicating to her without talking, Dallas’s thoughts reached her subconscious. I’m waiting here for you and I won’t leave you. Whatever is holding you there isn’t as strong as we are. Together we can fight and conquer any foe. Leave the darkness and come into the light.