by Susan Shay
Horror turned Cassie’s stomach as what had been a shot in the dark proved accurate. “What about Melissa? When she disappeared so suddenly, we thought she’d run off with her boyfriend. Did you kill her, too?”
He spread his hands in an elaborate shrug. “I obey the Father without question.”
Her entire body trembled at the depth of his madness. How had she known this man so well and for so long without suspecting what he truly was? How had he been able to hide from her inner sight? Had her walls worked so well? “D-do you hear His voice?”
“Of course. When the Father speaks to one of his children, that child must listen or suffer the consequences.”
“You’re listening to the wrong voice,” Cassie shouted with all the emotion she’d known over the years. “The voice you hear is evil. You’re evil.”
“No,” Mack shouted back. His movements were threatening as he stormed toward her. “God is my father, and there is no evil in Him. He is love.”
“You call this love? Torturing and killing women?”
“Women are evil.” He jerked the blanket from her body. She tried to cringe away but was bound too tightly to move. “Evil must be removed from the world!”
Raising his arm high, he brought the glass down in an arc to carve a gash across her stomach. On the return swing he nicked the underside of her breast, near the nipple.
Heart pounding hard with fear, Cassie felt nothing as she stared at the slash that angled across her belly. Blood trickled down her side, warming its path as she watched. Then without warning, agony knifed through her. She gritted her teeth, determined not to give in to a groan that clawed at her throat. She wouldn’t do it. Wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing the torment he’d created.
Clenching her jaw as the worst of the pain subsided, she felt lightheaded, almost as if she floated above the floor where she lay.
Mack turned away. New panic surged through her. She had to talk to him. Keep his attention on her, so he wouldn’t hurt Miriam again. She couldn’t stand to lose much more blood—if that was what he had in mind for her.
But he moved across the room and picked up something Cassie hadn’t noticed before—a propane torch. Lighting it, he was a bright spot, out of place in that room.
Now she could see Miriam, her face pale and eyes closed, still as death. At least her lips were still moving as she called Keegan.
With the other hand, Mack picked up a pair of pliers with a railroad spike locked in their grip and started moving the flame along the length of the spike.
Cassie jerked hard at her restraints as she realized what he was about to do. He was going to cauterize Miriam, as he had the other murder victims. But Miriam isn’t dead.
Suddenly she knew that, to Mack, it didn’t matter. There was nothing left of the man she’d known. This creature had totally lost touch with reality. He no longer knew the difference between the real world and what was happening in his mind. Telling him Miriam wasn’t dead would not stop him.
But Cassie couldn’t just lie quietly and let him further mutilate her friend. There must be a way to stop him. She let her mind float free. All she had were words, but there had to be some way.
His mother. The visions she’d received from him, his heaviest emotions, had come from his mother. His poor, tortured mind had come from her hand. Bracing against the pain, she mimicked the voice she’d heard in her mind. “Mack—McKenzie Loper. You’re a bastard. God doesn’t know you. You’ve caused me nothing but pain and humiliation since your violent conception.”
Mouth open, he dropped the torch and spike to stare at her.
“You think you’re doing His will, but you’re wrong. Mother doesn’t know you. Doesn’t want you. She’s ashamed of you. You’re no good and bring nothing into this world but evil.”
His breathing was loud, uneven, as if he was gasping for air. “N-no.”
An unearthly version of Cassie’s voice echoed back to her, high and clear. “You’re a bastard, McKenzie. God doesn’t know you—”
Mack’s face filled with terror as he looked for the source of the disembodied voice. “Mother?” He whipped around, putting his back toward Miriam.
Cassie didn’t care if his mother was back from the dead, as long as his mind was off hurting Miriam.
Framed in the doorway stood the apparition of an old woman, wearing an ancient black dress. Lifting her arm, she pointed a long finger at him. “You’re no good...”
The fear Mack radiated diminished, but was replaced by anger, which grew, as Cassie watched, to menacing proportions.
As if she had no reason to fear, the spirit didn’t move. “You bring nothing into this world but evil.”
“I am the Anointed of God!” Raising the glass shard over his head like a dagger, Mack rushed toward the ghostly figure.
The specter disappeared, and suddenly Keegan was in her place, knocking Mack’s arm away as it swung it in a wide arc. Then Keegan punched him with a glancing blow.
Mack roared as he lunged at Keegan, knocking them both to the ground. As they rolled on the dirt floor, Cassie held her breath. Where had Mack’s strength come from? He was an old man. Was it his madness that kept him going, or was he really younger than he’d seemed?
Her heart stopped as Mack wrestled Keegan to the ground, then started slowly choking the life out of him. She was helpless. Useless. If only she’d learned to use her gift over the years, maybe she could channel her thoughts to Mack. It was her only hope.
Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the man she’d known. Mack, let Keegan go. You’re killing him. You can’t do that. He’s your friend. He’ll help you.
Mack glanced up, then shook his head as if trying to dislodge a fly. “No. I am...the Anointed,” he grunted.
Frustration burned through her. She wasn’t helping at all. Mack had heard her, she was certain, but he was determined not to listen.
As Keegan weakened, her frustration waned, then her hope died. I love you, Keegan. If you aren’t going to be here to live the next fifty years with me, then I don’t want to live either.
Keegan’s hands relaxed, then released Mack, and dropped to his side. Cassie couldn’t breathe. Was he dead?
Relief flashed through her as suddenly, Keegan lifted his arms inside Mack’s and, slamming hard, broke his strangle hold, then punched him in the jaw.
The apparition reappeared in the dugout. Using a heavy stick that looked amazingly like a billy club, she slammed Mack behind the ear. Without so much as a groan, the old man slumped to the ground.
Chapter Twenty-One
Keegan struggled against dead weight to roll Mack’s inert body off himself. Anxiety slammed through him. Were Cassie and Miriam okay? He’d heard voices before entering the old dugout, but he hadn’t heard a sound from either woman since. Listening closely in the dim light, he levered himself off the floor.
“Keegan, see about Miriam. Please.” Cassie’s painful whisper caused his gut to clench. “She hasn’t spoken in some time.”
Helpless rage burned through him, searing every nerve ending as he moved to Miriam’s side. His heart ached as he looked at the dark rings circling her eyes. Her face was drawn, filled with pain. At least she was still breathing, but the breaths were shallow and labored. “Marcie, call 911.”
“I already did.” Irritation creased the old woman’s face as she covered Cassie with a blanket, then knelt by her feet. “The bastard used old handcuffs to stake them out. The coward. I wonder if my...”
Keegan listened past Marcie, hoping to hear sirens. But outside the hole in the ground there was only silence. His terror jolted up a notch, making it hard to remain immobile by Miriam’s side.
Why didn’t the ambulance hurry? Were they lost? Out on another call? From the way Miriam was breathing, he wasn’t sure she would last much longer. He took her chin in his hand. “Miriam? Wake up, Sis. Look at me, would you?”
Miriam’s eyelids fluttered as if she was waking from a deep sleep. After a long m
oment she looked up at him, but when she did, the dark rings looked even worse. “Bubba.” The single word drained her energy.
Very gently, he took her shackled hand, cold as the grave, in his. Anger, sadness, and frustration combined to lodge like a boulder in his throat. He fought to get words past it. “Yeah. I’m here, baby sister. You hang on. Help’s on the way.”
She closed her eyes for so long, he thought she’d drifted off again. Then with a startled look, she glanced around. “Steve? Where...?”
“He’s at home, manning the phones and coordinating the search.” Damn him, he should be here.
Behind him, Marcie made a noise deep in her throat. “Ha, ha! My key does work. Take that, Mack!”
After a few moments, Cassie was by his side with the blanket tucked around her like a toga. She knelt on Miriam’s other side. “Hey, Miriam. Are you okay?”
Miriam nodded, then closed her eyes. “I’m just so...tired.” The words slid out on a sigh.
He glared at her manacles. They had to get her loose and to a hospital before it was too late.
“Well, get out of my way so I can release her.” Marcie’s hand was warm on his shoulder, so he stood up, moving only inches away.
“How did you find us, Keegan?” Cassie asked, her voice stronger now.
He shrugged. How could he tell them he’d used the psychic ability he’d scoffed about just days before? “I don’t know, really.”
“Bull.” Miss Marcie spat the word, then went back to work, but he got her meaning. Gutless. He’d rather fight Mack again than talk about how he’d found them.
But at the disappointment in Cassie’s gaze, he shook his head and tried again. “I searched for you for hours, driving up and down every street in Stone Hill. Then I ended up somewhere near Meander Road, like a dead end. So I started over. I went back to the apartment house and into Mack’s basement. I found a room where he had a collage of pictures of his mother on the wall. Then a feeling came over me. If he cared so much about her pictures that he would wallpaper a room with them, he might still have her clothes somewhere. So I followed that...feeling to his spare bedroom, where I found this ancient suitcase that smelled like the pits of hell. And in the bottom, I found the dress she’d been wearing in one of the pictures. Then another...thought hit, so I got Miss Marcie to help me.
“This time while I drove, I stopped at every corner to reach out to you. Then I waited, listening for your answer. But I didn’t hear anything. I noticed that every time I paused, though, my body would feel off balance. As if one side of me weighed more than the other. So every time I had the feeling, I went in the heavy direction. God must have put an angel on my shoulder to guide us, because we found you.”
“Satan’s lies! The Father does not use evil.” The roar came from beyond Keegan, and before he could turn, he was hit from behind. Unable to stop his fall, he twisted to keep from hurting Miriam, but landed heavily on his shoulder.
In a deep corner, Mack jerked back a dark blanket covering an opening, and disappeared inside.
Keegan struggled to his feet. The anger that had pooled in his belly at the sight of Cassie and his sister staked out like ancient sacrifices exploded through him. The man would not get away.
Tearing through the small door, Keegan stooped to keep from banging his head on the roof of the tunnel. Darkness slowed him as he tried to find his way. Don’t use your eyes. Follow your feelings. As if spoken aloud, he heard Cassie inside his head. Letting his anger go, he followed Mack. No, not Mack. He followed the monster Mack’s mother had created.
Then the passageway curved and he could see a light ahead of him. Mack must have picked up a hidden flashlight. Walking quicker, Keegan forced himself along. At least the dirt floor muffled his footsteps. Mack wouldn’t know how close he was—if he could catch up with him.
He tried to move even faster, until he noticed the light had stopped. Then, out of nowhere, Mack charged at him, slamming his head with something hard. Keegan fell against the wall, then landed face-down on the ground.
His ears rang and his head pounded as consciousness drifted from him and darkness crept in. As if he were wrapped in batting, the pain floated from him until— No! He wouldn’t—couldn’t—let Mack win. He had to stop him.
He fought his way up through layers of awareness until he could force his eyes open. Spitting dirt and blood, he stumbled to his feet and staggered after the escaping man. Aching and dizzy, he pushed himself until, with a lunge, he tackled Mack.
Mack fought until he yanked one leg free, then kicked Keegan in the face, splitting his lip and breaking his hold.
When Keegan grabbed him again from behind, Mack turned on him, furious beyond reason. Snarling, he curled his fingers around Keegan’s throat, trying once more to get a chokehold on him. But Keegan knocked his hands away. Putting all the pent-up anger from the last few days into it, he caught Mack with an uppercut to the chin. The old man fell onto his back, landing a few feet down a rough side tunnel.
Scrambling to his hands and feet, Mack scurried down the passageway. Keegan started after him, but couldn’t force himself to go farther. Even with only the beam from the flashlight Mack had dropped, the space looked and felt like an unsafe, unfinished hole.
A grave.
The anxiety level in his gut grew. That part of the tunnel was dangerous. And Mack was going nowhere. “Mack, you’ve got to come back. The tunnel’s not stable. Get out of there before it col—”
Thunder reverberated through the tunnel and the ground shifted beneath Keegan’s feet as great clouds of dirt and stone billowed out. He threw himself to the floor of the main tunnel, curling tightly, covering his head and flinching as debris rained down.
As quickly as it had started, the upheaval died away. Dust hung heavy in the air as Keegan slowly unfolded himself. He brushed himself off, then located the flashlight, half-buried in the rubble, and shined it down the tunnel. A wall of rock blocked the passage a few yards in.
“Mack! Can you hear me?”
There was no answer. Just the settling of rock and dust.
So battered he could barely walk, Keegan followed the flashlight beam back to the dugout. At the opening, he was met by a pair of deputies. “Where is he?” the first one asked.
Trying to blink a layer of dirt from his eyes, Keegan shook his head. “The roof came down on him.”
The other deputy backed up a step, suddenly green around the gills. “Buried alive?”
Miss Marcie scowled fiercely. “Serves him right. They ought to just leave him there and put up a rock that says Madman.”
Keegan glanced past her at Cassie and Miriam, being carried out by the EMTs. “Where are they taking the girls?”
“All Saints’ Hospital, in Austin.”
****
Cassie tightly gripped the armrests of the wheelchair as her mother pushed her out of the hospital. Finally she was away from the medicinal odor that permeated everything, even the food, and into the fresh winter air. The sky was clear and birds sang nearby—something she’d thought she would never hear again.
Humming happily, Janneth turned the chair onto another sidewalk that led toward the rented car where Howard waited. From the way her mother acted all morning, you’d never know her eldest daughter had been held in a dark dungeon by a maniac who wanted to kill her. All she’d chatted about was the fact that Alexandra postponed the wedding plans until Cassie was well enough to travel. Now Janneth could put on the showy wedding she’d dreamed of for so long.
Pain jolting through her as they bumped over a stick lying on the sidewalk, Cassie placed her hand on the hole in her side that the doctor had cleaned and stitched. If she could just get back in her own bed—or one with Keegan in it—she’d be fine. But that wasn’t to be.
The doctor had given strict orders that she wasn’t to climb the stairs to her own apartment for at least another week. And with Janneth and Howard still there... She sighed, then quickly wished she could take it back.
�
�What is it, darling?” Janneth chirped, then releasing the wheelchair without braking it, ran around in front of her. Thankfully the grade was slight, so Cassie didn’t roll far. Then the world became right as Keegan caught up with them, sending warm pulses of happiness through her.
“Oh!” Janneth gasped, batting her eyes playfully at Keegan. What was it about her that made her act like an empty-headed fool around a man? Even a man twenty years younger than her? Now if she spouted, I’ve always depended on the kindness of strangers, the picture would be complete. And forty-seven stitches or not, Cassie would have to smack her.
“Mind if I talk to Cassie a moment before you take her to the apartment?” he asked.
“We’re taking her to the motel.” Janneth’s chin jutted forward as she took up that argument again.
Cassie was tired of discussing it. “I’m going to Miriam’s apartment, Janneth.”
Janneth put her hands on her hips, prepared to do battle. “But it would—”
“Janneth!” Howard cut her argument short. “Get in the car and let them talk.”
With a little shrug, Janneth walked to the car and got inside. Howard rolled up all the windows.
Keegan pushed her chair to a nearby bench, then set the brakes and sat down, facing her. “I’m sorry I can’t get you settled in at home today. Will you be all right?”
At his words, her throat swelled until she could hardly breathe, so she nodded. She didn’t have to be psychic to know what was coming.
He wedged his fists between his knees, putting him exactly at her eye level. He looked so miserable that her heart went out to him. “I don’t know how else to say it, Cassie. I love you, but...”
She took pity on him. “There doesn’t have to be any explanation, Keegan. I know. I read it in you a few days ago. Your life is changing. You’re moving on to your next job. I don’t blame you, but I will miss you.”
