He popped the trunk and got out of the car. This time he cradled her in his arms like he was crossing the threshold with his bride. Hunkered down, he freed one of his gloved hands from his bundle and unlatched the gate to step into the tiny prayer garden behind the church.
It was nothing more than a few trees and some rosebushes planted next to a marble bench but he imagined it was paradise as he stretched his Melissa out over the bench. Kneeling beside her, he pulled a pair of cuticle scissors from his front pocket and used them to snip the sutures from her lids. As careful as he was, each pass of the scissors tore the delicate flesh. Blood leaked from the corners of her eyes and he swept it away, smearing it across her temple with his gloved thumb. After the stitches were removed he peeled them open, eager to see her beautiful blue eyes. Anticipation soured in his belly as soon as his eyes locked onto hers.
They were empty.
The blanket fell open, gave him a glimpse of naked flesh. Distracted, he moved it aside completely to give himself some more. He cupped her breast, still warm from the blanket, and fondled it—felt himself go hard at the sight and feel of her. His eyes travel downward until they found her stomach and the collection of stab wounds he’d left there. His groin began to throb and his free hand fell to it, began to stroke it through the rough fabric of his jeans.
He considered having sex with her, one last time, but the thought was fleeting, chased away by a flutter—weak and sporadic—beneath his hand. The hand on his crotch went still and he flattened the other against her chest and pressed down. Searching for the heartbeat he was sure he’d just felt, but there was nothing there. A minute passed, then two. He dropped his hand. She was gone.
He was unsure of how much time had passed but when the lone howl of a coyote cut across the desert he took it as a warning.
It was time to leave.
TWO
San Francisco, California
2013
IT WAS OCTOBER FIRST.
Sabrina rolled over and stared at the wall. She knew the date. Not because she’d checked her calendar or because the leaves on the trees outside her bedroom window were turning from green to gold.
No. It was because she hadn't been able to take a deep breath for weeks now. The feeling that someone was watching her. The long hours stretched between the setting and the rising of the sun, spent wandering her silent house, kept awake by the certainty that if she closed her eyes, she'd never be able to open them again. That was what told her what day it was.
Fifteen years ago, today, she'd been kidnapped. Held for eighty-three days. Raped. Tortured. Left for dead in a churchyard.
It was October first.
She looked at her alarm clock. It was five AM. Rolling out of bed, she made her way to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face in a vain attempt to wash away another sleepless night. Afterward, she pulled on a pair of yoga pants and a plain black T-shirt over a tank of the same color. Socks and her trusty running shoes came next. They fit her like a second skin from the countless miles they’d pounded out together. Under her bed was a shoe box. In it was her Ruger LCP .380. She strapped it to her ankle and stood, the full leg of her pants concealed it perfectly.
Jogging, down the set of exterior stairs from the attic’s third-floor landing, Sabrina took the cobble stone path she laid herself around the side of the house. The rambling Victorian, situated on an over-sized lot, was a complete nightmare, defensively speaking. Too many trees and bushes offered an obstructed view from the street. Too many exterior doors and windows presented multiple points of entry. Its saving grace—the only reason she’d agreed to buy the place, was that it had a finished attic, set apart from the rest of the house, with its own entrance. As much as she loved her family, she needed her own space.
Her running partner waited on the sidewalk for her, as he did most mornings. He whined with excitement just beyond the pretty picket fence bordering her front yard. Seeing him, she pulled up short with a shake of her head.
“We can’t keep meeting like this, Noodlehead. One of these days we’re gonna get caught.” Opening the gate, she stepped onto the sidewalk. Noodles, the neighbor’s chocolate Lab, whined in response. He danced around in a tight circle at her feet before planting his rump on the cold concrete. He lifted a paw and cocked his head, his tail going a mile a minute.
“Fine, you can come but if we get caught, I’m blaming it all on you.” She heaved an exaggerated sigh and grabbed his paw. He pulled his paw from her grasp and shot down the sidewalk toward the park at the end of the street.
Sabrina’s feet absorbed the transfer from hard pavement to soft earth as they hit the trail winding through the woods surrounding the park. Once swallowed by the trees, Noodles ran off into the brush, his occasional happy bark sounding back to her. He must’ve found something fun to chase.
She opened herself up. Let her legs set a brutal pace, eating the trail with hungry strides. Forced her mind to pull free of the nightmares of just a few hours before. Her legs burned, but she didn’t slow. Instead, she used the pain to sandblast the dregs of last night from her thoughts.
Footsteps pounded behind her, the sound of them almost perfectly matched to her own. The sound of them made her uneasy and she pushed herself harder. Ran a bit faster. The footsteps behind her faded for a moment then doubled, catching up with her. No more than fifteen feet now. Shifting across the trail, she hugged the tree line to give the person behind her room to pass. They didn't pass, but seemed intent on closing the gap between them.
Forcing out another burst of speed, she widened the gap momentarily, but the advantage was short lived. The man, judging from the heavy sound of his footfalls, closed the space between them again.
Shooting through a gap in the trees, Sabrina ran for the open area of the park. Faking a cramp, she gripped her side before stumbling to a stop. Bent forward, her elbows braced on her knees, she took deep breaths. Her arms dangled loosely, waiting for the man behind her to make an appearance. He burst through the trees, continued on the trail without even a glance in her direction.
He ran past, not more than twenty feet away from her. Eyeing him, she took in his black track pants and white muscle shirt. Extensive ink work decorated his shoulder and bicep. The Celtic design was distinctive.
His hair was dark, cut shorter than she remembered and his face was leaner, harder than it had been the last time she’d seen him. His name was Michael. They’d grown up in the same small Texas town, gone to school together, attended the same church. Her heart was pounding so hard it hurt and her palms were suddenly slick with sweat.
They’d never known each other well but he’d always stared at her a little too long, gotten a little too quiet when she was around. He’d always made her uncomfortable but seeing him now scared the shit out of her.
Every instinct Sabrina had was screaming, telling her she was in danger, urging her to run. He didn’t appear by accident. This wasn’t a coincidence.
Michael knew exactly who she was and he’d come here for her.
Also by Maegan Beaumont
Carved in Darkness
Sacrificial Muse
Promises to Keep
Blood of Saints
Anthologies
Suspense at the Stroke of Midnight
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Maegan Beaumont is the author of the award-winning Sabrina Vaughn thriller series. Her debut novel, CARVED IN DARKNESS, was awarded the 2013 gold medal by Independent Publishers for outstanding thriller as well as being named a Forward, book of the year finalist and Debut novel of the year by Suspense Magazine. When she isn't locked in her office, torturing her protagonists, she's busy chasing chickens (and kids), hanging laundry and burning dinner. Either way, she is almost always in the company of her seven dogs, her truest and most faithful companions and her almost as faithful husband, Joe. Look for the fourth novel in her series, BLOOD OF SAINTS in August, 2016.
Table of Contents
Waiting in Darkness © 2016
/> Praise for the Sabrina Vaughn series
AUTHOR’S NOTE
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
Dying to know what happens next?
ONE
TWO
Also by Maegan Beaumont
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Waiting In Darkness: A Sabrina Vaughn Thriller (The Sabrina Vaughn Series Book 1) Page 17
