Deadly Dozen: 12 Mysteries/Thrillers

by Diane Capri

  Rubbing her temples, Sarah brought her attention to the screen just in time to see a pretty young brunette with deep brown eyes smiling at her. “No,” she whispered.

  “Mommy, that’s the pretty lady.”

  Sarah jumped. She’d been so focused on the news story she hadn’t heard Nikki enter the room. She struggled to control her emotions, turned off the TV and forced a smile as she turned to her daughter.

  “What pretty lady, honey?”

  “The one in my room last night. I’m hungry.”

  Sarah shook herself mentally. Was it possible? She knew it wasn’t impossible that Nikki had inherited what her grandmother called “her gift,” but dear God, she was only five years old.

  And the spirits had never actually materialized to Sarah. They only came to her in dreams.

  Sarah struggled to control the shaking of her hands as she pulled down a box of cereal. This was definitely one of those situations they didn’t cover in Sheriff 101.

  “How about a big bowl of cereal?”

  “Okie, dokie.”

  Sarah felt a pang of fear as she watched Nikki bounce up to the table. She always seemed to bounce, her strawberry blonde curls in constant disarray. So full of energy, bursting with life. So tiny. So helpless. Too young. She was much too young for the dreams.

  “Here you go…one bowl of cereal and a glass of OJ, just for good measure.” Sarah forced her voice to sound natural. Taking her coffee, she sat across from Nikki, wondering where to start. She questioned people all the time. But how did you question a five year old? Especially a five year old who seemed to take the appearance of a strange woman in her bedroom in the middle of the night as a normal occurrence.

  “Nikki, tell me about the pretty lady.”

  “I’m not supposed to tell. Can I stay with Millie today?”

  Sarah controlled her impatience, taking her time, choosing her words carefully.

  “Why aren’t you supposed to tell, sweetheart?”

  Nikki shook her head as she scooped up another mini-wheat. “It’s a secret.”

  “Nikki, look at me.” Sarah felt her patience waning as Nikki chewed slowly, making a huge display of swallowing loudly before meeting her mother’s eyes. “You shouldn’t have secrets from Mommy, remember? We talked about this.”

  “It’s okay, Mommy. I know when people are bad. She’s a nice lady. I think she’s lost.”

  Sarah sighed in frustration. Nikki had always been the world’s best secret keeper. Her soft blue eyes pleaded with Sarah for understanding, for trust.

  “Okay, you keep your secret…for now. But, young lady, if you see her again, you have to promise to tell me.”

  Nikki bobbed her head, smiling.

  “Get dressed. I’ll call Millie and see if it’s okay for you to stay with her today.”

  “Whoopee!”

  Sarah couldn’t help but laugh as she watched Nikki dance up the stairs. Nikki was her life. Without her…

  “It was only a dream,” she whispered. Corrine Larson had nothing to do with her life, or Nikki’s. Still, a cold chill ran down her spine as she dialed Millie’s number. She remembered the feeling of dread, pain, and death that had jerked her from the dream. But most of all, she remembered the heart-wrenching cry, He’s coming, Sarah. He wants to destroy you.

  #

  “Morning, Sheriff. I was beginning to worry about you.”

  Sarah raised an eyebrow, looking at her favorite deputy, Joshua Cross, before glancing at the clock.

  “It’s only eight-thirty.”

  “Forget something?” Joshua raised an eyebrow, mocking her.

  “Oh, shit,” she muttered. The toxicology report on Johanna Nelson. “Did they call?”

  “About ten minutes ago. Doc Hawthorne says to call him when you get in. Got something on his mind.”

  Sarah nodded. Doc Hawthorne had delivered Johanna Nelson, watched her grow up, and he’d been the one to tell her parents about her death. She was sure he had a lot on his mind. There were still unanswered questions about Johanna’s death, questions that would probably never be answered, as the case seemed no more than a tragic accident. Johanna had been drinking, lost control in the curve and hit a tree. Death had been instantaneous. And then there was what she had felt at the scene last night. Dammit, that was always the problem. She never knew when it was real. Had there really been someone else with Johanna?

  Sarah hesitated, tempted to tell Joshua about her suspicion that Johanna had not been alone in the car. “Damn,” she muttered, grabbing a cup of too strong coffee as she headed for her office. And how would she explain her suspicions? Joshua, I have this gift, and it tells me things. She was sure that would go over great.

  Grabbing the phone, she dialed Doc Hawthorne’s number. The sooner she made the call, the sooner Johanna’s parents would be allowed to lay their daughter to rest. Maybe Sarah could also lay her doubts to rest.

  Five minutes later, Sarah grimaced as she slammed down the phone. The call to Doc had done no more than raise additional questions. Although Johanna smelled of alcohol, blood tests revealed she had not been drinking. Sarah knew there was something else. Something Doc had not told her. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it was there. She’d have to go see him in person, take a look at the autopsy report, and find out what he was hiding. The knock on her door did nothing to improve her mood.

  “Come in.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Just fine,” Sarah muttered sarcastically. “Doc says Johanna wasn’t drinking.”

  Joshua seated himself comfortably in the old armchair Sarah had purchased at a yard sale.

  “Don’t surprise me none. Never knew that girl to take a drink.”

  “Then what the hell happened out there, Joshua? What am I supposed to tell her parents?”

  Joshua shrugged, chewing a toothpick. A habit he’d taken up when he’d stopped smoking three years ago.

  “You’d better put something on that burn.”

  Sarah glanced down at her hand. She’d almost forgotten about burning herself that morning. The skin was now a fiery red.

  “It’s not that bad. Did you need something?” Sarah wanted to be alone. She rubbed her temples. Everything seemed to be off kilter.

  “Just worried about you. You look a little pale. Maybe you should have Doc take a look at that hand.”

  Sarah stopped rubbing her temples. Genius. A perfect excuse to pick the old doctor’s brain. “Yeah, I’ll do that. But I’m fine, really. Nikki hasn’t been sleeping well lately, so, of course, neither have I.”

  “I’m afraid you’re not gonna sleep too well in the next couple of weeks, either.” Joshua tossed a mystery novel on her desk. “Know him?”

  Sarah glanced at the novel. “G. C. McAllister?” She read the title, A Jacody Ives Mystery – Pool of Tears. “No, I’ve never heard of him.” She glanced from the book to Joshua.

  “Got a reputation for being a pretty ruthless bastard. Fancies himself as some kind of private detective like his character. Travels around to small towns looking for secrets. Digs around until he finds a good story. Rumor has it he’s destroyed a lot of lives.”

  Sarah frowned. “What does that have to do with us?”

  “He just made a reservation at The Lodge. Be here two weeks from today.”

  Sarah felt the blood drain from her face. She forgot about Johanna, forgot the burn on her hand, and the need to talk to Doc Hawthorne. The dying words of a tortured soul seemed to echo in the room.

  He’s coming, Sarah. He wants to destroy you.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Gavin hated hospitals. The smell of sickness and death permeated the air around him. The sooner he got this over with, the better off he’d be.

  He’d had to fight Carl about telling the chief about the postcard, but at least he’d agreed that they shouldn’t tell Rob. Somehow the two of them would have to manage the investigation without Rob’s getting involved. All Gavin needed was a little time.

&
nbsp; Stopping at the desk, he waited for the frizzy haired receptionist to acknowledge his presence. She ignored him as she continued her animated conversation. “Well, you know and I know it was Marcus. Why, everyone knows the baby belongs to him.”

  Gavin cleared his throat and she glanced up, her eyes showing her impatience. “Hold on a minute.” She placed the caller on hold. “Can I help you?”

  “Rob Walker, admitted last night.”

  Punching a couple of keys on the computer, she glanced at the screen.

  “Psychiatric ward, Room 403.”

  Gavin didn’t bother thanking her. She probably wouldn’t have heard him anyway. She’d already gone back to discussing the mysterious Marcus and whatever he’d done that had her hormones raging.

  Walking slowly down the quiet hall, he checked the numbers on the closed doors until he came to 403. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door. Bile rose in his throat at the sickly sweet smell of fresh flowers. The room was full of baskets, all bearing cards of “Get Well Soon.” Idiots. The world was full of idiots.

  Guilt washed over Gavin as he noted Carl sitting next to the bed, a book across his lap. It was apparent the old man had been here all night. Gavin’s head ached from too much brandy, too much pain. “I should have been the one here,” he cursed himself silently.

  Carl nodded his head toward the hallway, and Gavin followed him outside.

  “They’ve got him pretty drugged up, but I think he can hear you,” Carl whispered. “God, I need a cigarette.”

  “Get some rest. I’ll stay here with him for a while.”

  Carl shook his head, shoulders slumped in resignation. “We’re gonna lose him, Gavin, if he don’t snap out of this. Keeps thinking he’s seeing Cory. Talking to her.”

  Gavin didn’t know how to respond. Twenty-four hours ago he would have thought Rob was hallucinating. Chances were, Rob really was seeing her.

  “I’ll be back,” Carl mumbled, reaching for his cigarettes as he headed for the nearest exit.

  Gavin opened the door, taking the seat Carl had vacated. Rob’s face was pale, haunted. Gavin felt a strange new tenderness for his brother wash over him. The drugs had helped, but there wasn’t any drug that would take away the pain completely. Rob would have to come to terms with it eventually.

  Something seemed to be filling the hollowness the tears had created inside him. He took Rob’s hand, emotions choking him. Rob had always looked up to him. Even though they were almost the same age, Gavin had always been the big brother. He’d already lost Cory. Seeing Rob now, lying here more dead than alive, was almost more than Gavin could bear.

  “Rob?”

  Rob turned toward the voice, blue eyes empty. “Gavin? I lost her. Lost my love, my lady, my life.”

  Gavin swallowed hard, fighting the wetness behind his lashes.

  “She’s gone, Rob. But you’re not. Neither am I. We have to go on. We have to find out who did this. Cory would want us to do that.”

  Rob closed his eyes. “Don’t want to. Can’t live without her. Want to die. Help me, Gavin. Help me die.”

  Unable to answer, Gavin sat holding the limp hand until the drugs took over and Rob slept again. He fought the emotions still churning inside him, tears flowing down his own face. Something inside had cracked. What the hell was happening to him?

  Gavin, you have to hurry. Please protect her.

  Cory was standing beside the bed.

  “Who, Cory? Who am I supposed to protect?”

  Gavin wasn’t shocked at her presence this time. Somehow he’d known she would be here close to Rob. She smiled at him before looking wistfully at the sleeping figure. You’ll know. Once again she gradually faded away.

  Carl picked that moment to open the door, poking his head inside. “Thought I heard a woman’s voice in here.”

  Gavin let go of the hand he’d been holding, gently placed it on the bed, and stood up. “No, he’s sleeping.”

  “I’ll stay with him.” Carl flopped into the seat, reaching for his book.

  Gavin nodded, hesitating as he reached the door. He had packing to do. Cory’s funeral to plan. He wanted to talk to Rob. Really talk to him. Explore the strange feelings he kept having. Find out if Rob felt the same ache deep inside his heart. There just wasn’t enough time.

  “Sleep well, little brother,” he whispered as he quietly closed the door.

  #

  Gavin shook hands with the last of the visitors. The ceremony had been small, but Cory would have liked that. He’d worried about the press at first; afraid they would play up her funeral. For once, they’d shown some small measure of sensitivity, allowing the family to grieve together without prying eyes. Perhaps it was because Cory was one of their own.

  Closing the door, Gavin allowed his thoughts to turn to Rob. The last week and a half had passed so quickly he’d had little chance to think about anything except taking care of what had to be taken care of. Thanks to Chief Walsh, the autopsy had been done immediately, and Gavin had made the funeral arrangements as soon as they released the body. There was something healing about laying your loved ones to rest.

  Gavin frowned. Unfortunately, it hadn’t had that effect on Rob. He’d smelled the alcohol on Rob’s breath at the funeral home. And Rob hadn’t even bothered to show up at the apartment afterward. Gavin had been left to mumble assurances and accept condolences from Rob and Cory’s friends. Rob was sinking fast, and there was nothing he could do to help him. Except maybe catch Cory’s killer. Maybe then Rob would be all right.

  Carl was sitting in the living room, drink in hand, cigarette burning in the ashtray. “Stay as long as you want, Carl. I’ve got some packing to do.”

  He wasn’t surprised to find the older man still sitting there a half hour later.

  “Christ, Gavin, you can’t go out there alone. And what am I supposed to tell the chief? Have you thought about that?”

  Gavin set down the suitcase and turned to Carl. He knew what the old man was feeling. Rob had turned to the bottle, wanting to die, and Gavin was about to set out on a course that could lead to his own death. For the past five years, they’d been the only family Carl had.

  “I’ll be okay, Carl. You know Jacody Ives always lands on his feet.” He grinned, making light of the situation. Carl wasn’t buying it.

  “You’re fucking crazy. This son-of-a-bitch is like a ghost. What if Cory was right? What if there is a connection? What then?”

  Gavin watched Carl light another cigarette, two already burning in the ashtray. The image of Cory’s battered body filled his mind. “Ghost or man, I’ll find him. And when I do, I’m going to send the evil bastard straight to hell.”

  “Going with you,” Carl stated, taking a long drag on the cigarette before placing it in the ashtray with the other two. “Got a bad feeling about this.”

  Cory’s death had opened up something inside of Gavin. Something strange, and yet in some small way, something wonderful. Surprised, he found himself crossing the room and placing his arms around the old man.

  “I have to go, Carl. You have to stay here and take care of Rob for me. Can you do that?” He pulled away, looking into the huge brown eyes, over-bright with unshed tears, unspoken emotion.

  Carl broke their gaze first, muttering in a choked voice, “You damn kids will be the death of me.” Hands shaking, he started to light another cigarette just as he noticed the three burning in the overflowing ashtray. “See, what I mean? You’re killing me.”

  Hugging Carl again, Gavin laughed. “If you actually smoked them, those things would kill you.”

  “Yeah, maybe I should quit,” Carl muttered as he stubbed out the three cigarettes. “Somebody’s gotta take care of you two.”

  Gavin picked up the suitcase. He had to leave. “You’ll take care of him?”

  Carl nodded.

  “I’ll call you when I get settled in.”

  “You call me every day, you hear me? Don’t you go getting yourself killed either.”

 
; Gavin smiled, but knew it was weak. Carl was the closest thing he and Rob had to a father. He was beginning to understand just how much the old man loved them both.

  He stopped at the doorway and looked around the apartment. Somehow he knew he wouldn’t be coming back here. Carl knew it, too. Gavin smiled again and raised a hand in silent good-bye.

  “I’ll take care of him.” The old man’s face was wet, his voice choked with emotion. Gavin hesitated only a second. He had to go.

  “I know you will.” The crack inside him widened as emotions he’d never felt before, never allowed himself to feel, washed over him. “I don’t think I ever said it before, Carl, but I love you.”

  He wasn’t quite sure, it could have been just his imagination, but he thought he heard the whispered words as he closed the door behind him: “I love you, too, you dumb son-of-a-bitch.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Joshua Cross looked up as the young woman entered the sheriff’s office. She didn’t look like a local. Something about her demeanor struck a chord inside him. The shadows in her eyes, the way she held her arms across her body as if protecting herself from unseen blows.

  “Can I help you?”

  Her smile was stiff, and Joshua noted how she continued to look down, refusing to meet his eyes. “I was hoping maybe I could talk to the sheriff. Ms. Crawford told me she might need someone here to answer the phones or something.”

  Definitely not a local. No one around here would dare address Millie as Ms. Crawford.

  “Sheriff’s out right now.”

  “Oh.” She reached for the door, disappointment etched on her face. “Thank you.”

  “Hey, wait a minute.” Coming around the counter, Joshua grinned at her. “Can you make coffee?”

  She nodded.

  “You’re hired.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Biggest job around here. And the most important.” He stuck out his hand. “Joshua Cross, chief deputy and sheriff’s whipping post.”

  She shook his hand tentatively. “Ella Mae Thomas.” She frowned. “Is she hard to work for?”