by Diane Capri
“Dammit, Gavin, wake up!”
Gavin’s eyes jerked open, dazed and confused. “What happened?”
“You scared the fucking bejesus out of me, that’s what happened,” Carl said, his hands quivering as he struggled to light a cigarette. “Screaming in the middle of the night like some kind of goddamn banshee. What the hell’s wrong with you? Probably woke up the whole fucking neighborhood.”
Gavin glanced around the room trying to get his bearings. He could still taste the bile, still hear the whispered words. Placing his head between his hands he groaned. “Oh God, Carl, he’s killed again.”
Finally managing to get his trembling fingers and the lighter together long enough to light the cigarette, Carl took a deep drag as he pondered what he’d just heard. He’d wondered about Gavin for a long time. A lot of things made sense now. The withdrawals. The long treks through the wilderness. Constant searching for something he couldn’t find. Jacody Ives made perfect sense now.
“How long you been having the dreams, son?”
Drawing a ragged breath, Gavin met Carl’s steady gaze. “All my life.”
Carl nodded. He’d suspected as much. Yep, made perfect sense now. “I’ll make the coffee, you get dressed. We got us some serious talking to do.”
#
Gavin focused his attention on the steaming mug of black coffee. The only sound in the room was the slight click of Carl’s lighter as he lit another cigarette.
“I’m waiting.”
“I don’t even know where to start, Carl.” Gavin looked up to meet the serious brown gaze. He’d never told anyone but the psychiatrist about the dreams.
Carl shrugged. “I’ll start for you then. Read every book you ever wrote. Always wondered about Jacody Ives. Good investigator, but he never let himself get involved with anyone, did he? Had those damn demons in his head all the time. Always afraid to let people get too close. Always running away to the next town, or disappearing into the wilderness for weeks. Boy seemed awful lonely to me.”
Gavin continued to focus on the coffee mug, as if somehow the black liquid held the answers to questions he’d always been afraid to ask.
Carl continued, “Then I read Sacred Secrets. That was your best work, son. Want to know why?”
Gavin raised his head, his eyes haunted.
“Because Jacody finally got a friend. I think the only friend he ever had was that dog.”
Gavin smiled wistfully remembering Mariah. She’d been his favorite character, and Carl was right, she’d been his only friend.
“That was right after you found out about Cory. You changed then. Maybe that was what you writers call your epiphany. Don’t know what it was, but you came back to us. Gavin came back, not Jacody Ives.”
“Penetralia of the soul,” Gavin whispered.
“Exactly.” Carl took another long drag on the cigarette before stubbing it out. “You ain’t alone, son. You ain’t never been alone.”
Gavin swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew where to start now. At the beginning.
“The first time I remember the dreams I was about five. I woke up screaming. Couldn’t explain to the Walkers what I’d seen, but I knew something bad had happened. The next day I heard them talking about how the old woman at the end of the street had been killed by a hit and run driver. It scared the hell out of me. I knew the dream and the death were connected, but I didn’t know how. I was afraid to sleep after that. Thought I had caused the death.”
Gavin stopped, lost in the guilt he’d felt as a child. The guilt he felt now. He could never stop the killings. He was always too late. And then there was the question he’d never been able to answer, What was inside him? What part of him was so evil that it sought out the darkness while he slept?
Carl’s lighter clicked again, a signal for Gavin to continue.
“The Walkers were great people. They tried to understand. Took me to counselors, psychiatrists. Nothing helped. Then on my eighteenth birthday, I went camping with Rob and a bunch of the guys. That was the first time in my life I slept totally dreamless. Out there beneath the stars, away from the crowds, the towns, the people. I realized then that it was better for me, and better for everyone around me if I was alone. There had to be something inside of me that the darkness sought out. I’ve lived my entire life afraid the dark side would break loose, hurt the people I loved.
The psychiatrist agreed with me. Said it was my own dark nature manifesting itself in my dreams. Thought it was healthier for me to write out my feelings. So I went away, created Jacody Ives and put the demons inside his head. Five years ago they returned. Worse this time. He’s playing games with me. Laughing at me.” Gavin tightened his hold on the coffee mug, allowing himself to feel the rage and despair warring inside him.
The silence in the room built until it was almost unbearable.
“Of all the fucking horseshit I ever heard.” Carl threw his cup against the wall, shoved back his chair and paced the small room. “Goddamn, psycho-social babbling fools. Ain’t got nothing better to do than fuck up young kids.”
“Carl …” Gavin started to speak, but held his tongue, the brown eyes turning deep charcoal as they fixed on him.
“You forget that shit. You hear me?” The old man’s jaw bunched up in anger. “Ain’t nothing wrong with you that a little love and understanding wouldn’t a’cured. Fucking psychiatrists. Goddamn idiots, all of them. Anything they can’t explain with their fucking mental babble, they medicate.”
Gavin sat in shocked silence as Carl glared at him before slamming out the door. The ticking of the counter clock grated on his nerves, but he knew Carl would be back; he’d forgotten his cigarettes.
“And another thing,” Carl continued his tirade as he stormed in, picking up the forgotten cigarettes, “maybe it ain’t the killer you’re connecting with. Maybe it’s the victim. Just because you can’t stop the killing you see happening in your dream, don’t mean you can’t stop the killer. Maybe it’s the next victim you’re supposed to save. You ever think of that?”
Gavin sat dumbstruck. Was Carl right? It wasn’t the killer, but the victim reaching out to him? Gavin felt as if a weight had suddenly been lifted from his shoulders. The victims. That’s why Cory had been able to get through. That’s what she’d been trying to tell him.
“Well, what the hell are you waiting for?” Carl growled.
“I…”
“Gotta do everything for myself,” Carl muttered as he crossed to the coffee pot, poured another cup and disappeared into the guest bedroom. Gavin could hear the sound of drawers opening and closing, Carl muttering about stupid assholes. Shaking his head, Gavin followed.
“Want to share what you’re doing?” Gavin asked from the doorway.
“I’m packing your things. You gotta get back to Glade Springs. Protect that little girl. Ain’t that what this was all about? You ain’t gonna be late this time, Gavin.” Carl stopped shoving clothes into the overnight bag and sat down on the bed. Maybe he could save Gavin. Rob was already dead. The bottle had killed him; he just didn’t know it yet.
Gavin joined him on the bed, afraid to break the silence as rings of cigarette smoke drifted between them.
“I listened to you talk about that little girl and her mother, Gavin. Something happened out there in Glade Springs. Something good. Don’t you let it mean nothing. Don’t you lose her the way Rob lost Cory. Get the dog if you want it, but you got a chance, son, for more than that. A whole lot more.”
Gavin placed his arm around Carl. He was right. Something had happened to him the minute Nikki had placed her small hand in his. Something strange and wonderful. Gavin had never prayed in his life, but he prayed now. “God, please don’t let me be too late this time.”
#
“Fire’s out, Sheriff. We opened the windows, but the smell is still pretty bad.”
Sarah nodded, her eyes misting. “Thanks, Billy.” Swallowing hard, she tried to stop the gagging reflex that hit her the second she ent
ered The Lodge. There was nothing in the world worse than the smell of burned flesh. Tommy and three of the volunteer fire fighters were still outside vomiting, and Joshua looked slightly green, although he was holding up better than most. Dammit! They weren’t prepared for this. She wasn’t prepared for this.
“Are you okay, Doc?” Sarah noted the grayness of the doctor’s face, the blueness around his mouth as he slipped on his mask and nodded.
Sarah allowed her gaze to drift around the room, looking for something, anything to look at besides the badly charred body of what she knew must be Marisa Hutchins. They had caught the fire in time to save most of the room, but the body was burned beyond recognition. She swallowed hard again, concentrating on breathing through her mouth. She had to focus on her job, not her feelings. Her gaze fell on the small pink card on the dresser. Picking it up, she shivered as emotions ran up her arm, making her skin crawl, chilling her to the bone. Evil had its own special feel, and this was evil. A gift from me. You’re next.
“Anything on McAllister’s whereabouts?”
Sarah felt Joshua’s keen gaze on her face. She would have to look at him eventually. Struggling to control the overwhelming fear that threatened to pull her into the darkness, Sarah placed the card inside a plastic package and handed it to Joshua. She wanted a hot shower.
“He told me he was going to Richmond, but I didn’t ask where. Said he’d be back tomorrow.”
“I’m finished.” Doc Hawthorne rose, his shoulders drooping more than usual. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He’d delivered these children, watched them grow up. He shouldn’t have to sign their death certificates. “Not much more I can do here. I’d say it’s Marisa Hutchins. You can wait for the autopsy to make it official.”
Sarah grimaced. She didn’t need an autopsy.
“The Edgewood forensic team is on their way. Said they’d be here within the hour,” Joshua stated.
“Thanks, Joshua.” Sarah had hated calling in outsiders, but they just didn’t have the equipment, or the expertise, to handle this type of situation. Nothing like this had ever happened in Glade Springs. Gavin McAllister had a lot to answer for.
“What do you make of the card?”
Joshua was turning the package over in his hands. Sarah glanced at it, a cold chill running down her spine. … never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee.
“You’re next.” Joshua read the card out loud and glanced at Sarah. “Who do you think he means?”
“Not a clue,” Sarah lied. “We’ll run it through the system, see if anything like this has happened anywhere else.”
“Good idea.” Joshua hesitated, “Sarah, I think this card is for you.”
Sarah didn’t bother answering. She’d known the second she touched the card it was for her. You know, echoed in her mind.
“Joshua, stay here, lock it down and wait for Edgewood. Go ahead and do the photographs and sketches of the scene. I have to go tell the Hutchins.” Sarah knew her voice was quivering. She cursed silently at life’s cruel joke of giving her the ability to feel what others felt. She was having enough trouble controlling the pain and fear she’d picked up in this room. She didn’t know how she was going to handle the parents’ emotions.
“Sarah, why don’t you stay? I’ll go.”
Sarah met the concerned green eyes, not trying to disguise the pain in her own. “It comes with the territory, Joshua. It’s my job.”
“What do I do if McAllister shows up?”
Sarah considered her answer carefully. She knew Gavin McAllister hadn’t killed Marisa. The evil she’d felt in that room wasn’t attached to him. He could, of course, sue the city, but at the moment she didn’t give a damn. It wouldn’t hurt him to cool his heels for a couple of hours. And, dammit, he was partially responsible. If he hadn’t come here none of this would have happened. At least in jail he’d be safe and one less thing for her to worry about.
“Book him.”
Joshua nodded. Sarah was in charge. “The Hutchins are pretty religious people. Why don’t you call the new minister, have him meet you out there?”
“Bless you, Joshua. You always seem to know the right thing to do.”
“Comes with the territory, remember? It’s my job.”
Sarah exited The Lodge, her thoughts serious. Joshua would make a good sheriff. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about that when she left. She turned her thoughts to the new minister. She hadn’t had an opportunity to meet him or his wife. What was his name? Cooper. Picking up the cell phone, she automatically dialed the number and hoped it hadn’t been changed. How was she supposed to address him? Was it Reverend, Father, Pastor?
“Hello.”
“Mrs. Cooper?”
“Yes.”
“This is Sheriff Burns. I’m sorry I haven’t had the time to call on you and welcome you to Glade Springs, but I wonder if I could speak with your husband, please?”
“He’s asleep, Ms. Burns.”
Sarah frowned. No Sheriff Burns, and the Ms. Had been spoken with disapproval. It was apparent Mrs. Cooper didn’t believe in women sheriffs. She probably didn’t believe women should work at all.
“Could you wake him, please? It’s an emergency.”
“Oh, no, I could never do that. Never.” The voice had changed, a slight tremor just beneath the words.
Good Lord, she’s afraid of him, Sarah thought. What kind of minister instilled fear in his wife?
“Mrs. Cooper, I’m sorry, I’m a little upset, and I’m afraid I haven’t made myself clear. I know it’s late, but we’ve had a,” Sarah paused. “We’ve had a death in the community. The family is going to need him. Please put your husband on the phone.”
“I’ll have him call you in the morning.”
“Mrs. Cooper …”
The phone went dead. And people wondered why Sarah didn’t go to church. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in God; she just didn’t believe in organized religion. As usual, she was on her own.
A half hour later Sarah stood outside, breathing deeply in an attempt to control the tears streaming down her face as she waited for Doc Hawthorne. Thank God he’d been here. She should have known he would feel an obligation to do just that. He’d been there for thirteen years through every broken bone, every cough or late night fever. He wouldn’t desert them now.
Sarah watched his approach, realizing for the first time just how old he was getting. She’d ignored the Mayor’s ravings at the council meetings that they needed to start looking for a younger doctor, someone more up to date. How much longer could he last? And getting a doctor to come to a small town like Glade Springs wouldn’t be easy. Of course, there was always Edgewood. It was only a two-hour drive, but what about emergencies? The next time the mayor brought up the subject, Sarah would be more open-minded. Not a replacement, because no one could ever replace Doc Hawthorne. Maybe a partner.
“I gave Irene a sedative. She’ll sleep until morning.” His eyes never left Sarah’s face, the question left unspoken between them.
“Dammit, Jim, I can’t stop him if he wants to see her.”
Doc nodded. Edsel Hutchins wanted to see his daughter. “Call me when he comes in. I’ll be there.”
Sarah nodded, not trusting herself to speak. He would be there, sedative in hand. They both knew sedatives weren’t going to help Edsel Hutchins when he saw his daughter’s body. It was almost two a.m. and Sarah felt a desperate need to hold Nikki. To know she was safe. That, like sleep, was a luxury she didn’t have. It was going to be a long night.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The closer he came to Glade Springs, the more on edge Gavin became. He felt, more than knew, something was wrong. He also knew from past experience that a lot could happen in twenty-four hours. His eyes burned from lack of sleep, his eyelids gritty, sandpapery. He needed to deal with Rob, but now he needed to be here. He couldn’t be in both places. Somehow, whatever was going on here was tied together with Cory’s death.
Gavin’s shoulders and arms ached from the four-hour drive as his thoughts ran rampant. He and Carl had talked for hours, going over the dreams, analyzing every clue. He could still feel the chills that had raced down his spine at what they suspected. The five young girls were some sort of gift. The killer was making a statement to someone. Who, or what, they didn’t know. What was worse, they suspected that wasn’t the only time he killed. It was simply the only time he left a message.
They were guessing, but Nikki’s life depended on those guesses. It all had something to do with Sarah Burns. Somehow they were all connected. Cory was the catalyst, bringing them all together.
“Shit.” He felt the tension increase. Cars lined Main Street. Too many cars, even for a Saturday.
Gavin drove straight to The Lodge. Yellow tape sealed both the entrance and exit and a deputy waved him to parking across the street. He parked the car, sitting still for as long as he could. He had to go in there. Fear clutched his stomach as tightly as his hands clutched the wheel. If something had happened to Sarah or Nikki …
“Get out of the car, McAllister!”
The deputy was planted about two feet from the car, pistol drawn. Gavin opened the door and exited, hands in the air. He knew the drill, he’d written it a thousand times.
Gavin remained silent while the deputy searched and cuffed him before placing him in the rear seat of the cruiser. As the deputy started the car, curiosity finally made him ask the question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to.
“Would you mind telling me what I’m being arrested for?”
The deputy met his stony gaze in the rear view mirror for just a moment before turning his attention back to the road. “Suspicion of rape and murder.”
The fear dug deeper into his stomach, the headline glaring in his memory. TORTURED, RAPED, EXECUTED.
