Midnight Sacrifice

by Melinda Leigh

  Of what the psycho was planning to do to them.

  His instincts told him they were being kept alive for something. Something big. Something evil.

  At the moment, he really had no choice. Hunter’s eyes were sunken, his lips dry and cracked. His skin lacked elasticity. He’d stopped crying sometime the day before. They’d start with a half cup of water and see how Hunter reacted.

  Praying he was right, Kevin lifted his son’s shoulders and tilted the open bottle to his lips. “Drink this.”

  Hunter drank. And Kevin prayed.

  Just outside the door, boots scraped on dirt. Kevin automatically shielded Hunter with his body. Someone was coming. Their captor walked into the barn, but the blond man barely glanced at them as he crossed to the tractor and started it up.

  Where was he going?

  Nathan checked on his captives, then drove the tractor to the edge of the lake, unhitched the boat, and launched it into the smooth water. The process was awkward, but beggars couldn’t be too picky. Other than the lack of a dock, the location chosen by his assistant was perfect. His demands hadn’t been easy to meet. The property was quiet, out of the way, and had a large enough outbuilding for his very special project.

  He tied the boat to a fallen log, then moved the tractor back into the shadows of the trees. Sweat dripped into his eyes. He wiped his brow on his sleeve. So much work still to accomplish. Beltane occurred in just two more days. He’d earmarked today for hunting.

  He needed four more sacrifices to fill his effigy.

  Nathan rowed along the shoreline. On his last outing, he’d seen evidence that someone else was taking advantage of the isolation of the north end of that lake. A small, semipermanent encampment fashioned from scavenged bits.

  Last time, the motor had frightened off his intended prey, but this time Nathan intended to hunt the man down as if he were a wary buck.

  The oars dipped. Nathan pulled, and the boat slid smoothly through the water. He was getting close. There. The boulder. He steered to the edge and dragged the boat up onto the bank.

  A narrow game trail led toward the rough camp. Nathan crept through the trees, his steps silent on the damp pine needles underfoot. At the edge of the clearing, he stopped and peered around a tree. A tent had been fashioned into an A by stringing a tarp over a rope and staking down the four corners. Food hung from a high branch on the other side of the clearing. Smoke curled from embers inside a circle of rocks.

  But the camp’s occupant was nowhere to be found.

  Disappointment and panic whirled in Nathan’s belly. What if he couldn’t find enough sacrifices in time?

  He would wait. Eventually, whoever lived here would return. Nathan pulled the Taser from his pocket. Best be ready.

  Boom. A shotgun blasted through the quiet woods

  Nathan dropped to the ground facedown. He hugged the back of his head as leaves and bits of bark rained down on him.

  “Who goes there?”

  Nathan rolled. A grizzled old man stood on the trail behind him. His hair and beard were gray and long and nearly as dirty as his threadbare military fatigues. Nathan raised the Taser and fired. The old man was more agile than he appeared. He jumped behind a tree. The Taser barbs fell to the forest floor.

  The shotgun boomed again. Bark exploded above Nathan’s head.

  “I’ll kill you. Motherfucking aliens. I’ll kill you all.”

  Boom.

  Nathan heard the sound of shells being shoved into a shotgun. He scrambled to his feet and ran. Pines needles and branches whipped at his face as he darted through the trees. The next boom was farther away. He didn’t slow until he reached the lake’s shore, then he wasted no time pushing the boat out onto the water.

  This time he opted to use the small outboard motor.

  Stealth was no longer an issue.

  Steering the boat to the south, he took stock. No injuries, but the fact remained that his mission was a failure.

  Time was running out.

  Tomorrow he’d have to venture south, to the more frequented areas of the Lake Walker, where he was sure to find people. There was a chance he’d be seen and possibly recognized, but if he didn’t succeed it wouldn’t matter.

  Risk be damned.

  No matter what happened, tomorrow he was filling his cages.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Steam poured from the dishwasher vents as Mandy wiped the counters. Breakfast was over hours ago. Where was Danny? All morning, she’d resisted the urge to call Doc and check up on him, but enough was enough. Ignoring the soaking pans in the sink, she picked up the cordless phone. A quick exchange with Dr. Chandler’s nurse, Shelly, put Mandy’s mind at ease about Danny’s injury. But where had he gone?

  The door slapped open, and Bill burst through. “I’m hungry. Is there more cinnamon bread?”

  “Of course.” Mandy wrapped a leftover slice in a napkin and poured him a glass of milk.

  “Where’s Danny?” Bill took a bite.

  “I don’t know.”

  “He didn’t leave, did he?”

  “I don’t think so. He didn’t check out.” Although that’s what she wanted him to do, the thought that he could be gone left an empty space inside her.

  Bill looked doubtful. He ripped another chunk off his bread. Mandy chewed her thumbnail. Should she check Danny’s room for his things? No, he was free to come and go as he pleased. He hadn’t made her any promises. At the most, he would be here for two weeks. But the apprehension in her brother’s eyes doubled the hollowness inside. One more reason Danny had to leave immediately. Bill was getting attached to him. When Danny went home, Bill would be devastated.

  “After Danny leaves, can I call him?” Was Bill reading her mind?

  “Sure. Did you like talking to Reed yesterday?”

  “Uh-huh.” He finished the slice and took a long swallow of milk.

  “I’m glad.” She should have thought of letting Bill call. Maybe she’d been wrong about a clean break being the best way to handle the situation. Everything she did for Bill seemed to be wrong.

  Bill downed the rest of his milk and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Mandy handed him a napkin.

  “I thought he forgot about me.”

  Ugh. Mandy rubbed her forehead. She’d definitely made the wrong call on that. Exhaustion pulled at her. The dirty pans beckoned. Danny’s words echoed in her mind: everyone needs to be useful.

  She pushed up a sleeve. “I could use some help. Want to dry the dishes?”

  Bill’s face brightened. “Sure.”

  Mandy tossed him a dish towel. She scrubbed her way through the stack of pans. Bill carefully dried each one and put it away.

  “Thanks.”

  “I like helping you, Mandy.” Bill tilted his head.

  “I know. I’ve been really busy. Sometimes I forget to ask.”

  “If you ask me for help, you won’t be so busy. Can I do anything else?” Bill asked.

  She almost asked him to bring in the mail but changed her mind. “The porches need to be swept.”

  “OK.” Bill grabbed the broom from the pantry and went out onto the back porch. Mandy filled a watering can and joined him. She gave both pots of pansies a thorough drink. “Thank you for the flowers.”

  Bill paused midsweep, his face crinkling in confusion. “You already thanked me when I gave them to you.”

  “For the first ones, but not these.” Mandy tilted the can over the new container.

  Bill shook his head. “I wouldn’t give you anything like that. The flowers are pretty, but the pot is ugly and kind of scary.”

  Mandy pointed to the branch tied over the door. “Have you ever seen that?”

  “Nope.” Bill imitated Danny’s voice. The broom whisked across the floorboards.

  Mandy scanned the yard. The bright sunshine contrasted with the darkness of her thoughts. Who had been on her porch last night? She set the watering can on the painted gray boards and squatted to examine the flowerpot. It
was about a foot high and maybe a foot and a half across. The metal was dull silver in color. In addition to the repeated image of a man’s face in circle of flames, the pot was adorned with spirals and horses and interlocking triangles. The overall effect was primitive—and intimidating. It didn’t look like anything available at a garden center.

  Mandy leaned closer. A small tag on a green stem nestled amid the blossoms. A floral arrangement gift tag? She reached for it, turning the cardboard around to read the front. Tiny roses and hearts decorated the face. In the center, a message was typed in fancy script. A leftover Valentine’s Day card?

  Be Mine.

  Mandy flinched away from it. Straightening wobbly knees, she backed away. Her heartbeat amplified until the echo of blood rushing in her ears drowned out the tweeting of birds and the faint scrape of straw sweeping across wood. She scanned the yard, her gaze burrowing into every shadow. No one was there.

  The other threats had been direct, point-blank instructions. The flowers that had been pretty two minutes ago now gave her the creeps. This was different. This wasn’t blackmail. This had a whole different feel. This was personal. Someone who knew her favorite flowers. Could she have more than one stalker?

  You’re mine, Nathan had said, but it couldn’t be him.

  Bill’s broom stopped moving. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She gave her brother a fake smile. “Let’s go inside. It’s almost lunchtime.”

  “But I’m not done,” he protested.

  “You can finish later.”

  Bill’s jaw clenched. “Danny says it’s important to finish what you start.”

  Mandy caved. “All right. You finish up the sweeping, then I’ll make us both lunch. How’s that sound?”

  “Great.”

  Reason told her that whoever had left the pot was long gone. But Mandy kept her eyes on the perimeter of the property and her thoughts on her revolver while her brother finished his task at an agonizingly deliberate pace. Bill did not leave one speck of dirt behind. Fifteen minutes later, he nodded at her. “I’m done. We can eat now.”

  “That looks great. Thanks.” She hustled him into the kitchen. He beamed with pride as he followed her. Relief swept through Mandy as she locked the back door. “Can you ask Mom if she wants a sandwich?”

  “Sure.” Bill ducked into their apartment.

  Mandy wiped her sweaty palms on her thighs. Bill returned in less than a minute with their mother right behind him.

  “What’s going on, Mandy?” Her mom fisted a hand on a padded hip. Even with the weight she’d lost, her midsection remained lumpy as an old down pillow. “Bill said someone left a strange present on the porch?”

  “It’s just some flowers.”

  Her mother went out onto the porch for a minute. “I don’t like this.” She picked up the phone.

  “What are you doing?” Panic raced through Mandy.

  Her mother gestured with the cordless. “Calling the police.”

  “Why are you calling the police?” Worry tinted Bill’s voice.

  Mae patted his hand. “It’s not a big deal, but someone was on our porch last night without our permission. Considering everything that’s happened, I want Doug to come out here and take a look around.”

  “But all they did was leave some flowers.” Bill propped his elbows on the counter and rested his chin in his hands.

  “Bill’s right, Mom,” Mandy reasoned. “Calling Doug is pointless.” And potentially dangerous. What if her stalker was watching? Would he think Mandy wasn’t keeping up her end of the deal? “You know he’ll just blow it off.”

  “Our taxes pay his salary, and he can damn well get his butt out here when I call.” Her mother’s face reddened with her temper. “I’ll do it if you’re not willing to—”

  “No, you’re right.” Alarmed by her mother’s color, Mandy jumped in.

  “You’re damn straight I’m right.” Mae dialed the phone and spoke to the dispatcher.

  “Why don’t you sit down and have some lunch?” Mandy took her mother’s elbow.

  Breathless, Mae pressed a hand to her chest. “I’m not hungry. If you’ll handle Doug when he gets here, I’ll go lie down.”

  “Of course I will.” Mandy would have promised anything to get her mother to rest.

  “I’m hungry.” Bill lifted his head.

  “OK, Bill.” Mandy made tuna salad and spread it on rye. She gave Bill two sandwiches, and they ate at the kitchen island in silence. When was the last time she’d enjoyed time with her brother? But the strange things on the back porch and the police lieutenant’s imminent arrival intruded on their companionship. Mandy’s appetite dimmed. She put her sandwich on her plate. “Stay right here, all right?”

  Chewing, Bill nodded. Mandy walked through the house and out the front door. The mailbox sat at the end of the brick walk. White with a black flag to mirror the house’s colors and some daffodils peeking through the dirt around its whitewashed post, it was quaint, innocuous. But Mandy knew with complete certainty it held something dangerous. Call it premonition, women’s intuition, or survival instinct, sometimes one just knew trouble was waiting. There was no avoiding it, though.

  She scanned the street. Empty in both directions. No one skulking behind the shrubs. She shoved her shaking hands into her front pockets as she went down the steps. In the flower beds that lined the front walk, more tiny green heads of spring bulbs, hyacinths here, poked through the soil. The mailbox opened with a creak. Mandy pulled out a stack of letters. Her eye fell on a familiar white envelope. No return address. No stamp. Her name printed neatly in the center.

  She ripped it open and pulled out an eight-by-ten glossy. Bill and Danny standing over the lawn mower in the backyard. Mandy held the photo up. Light came though cuts in the image. Someone had cut the picture right across her brother’s neck, decapitating his image. Fear curled in Mandy’s belly. Bold red print spelled out the new message on Bill’s chest.

  DON’T FORGET.

  Danny parked behind the inn. He glanced at the back of the house. He was contemplating whether to knock on the back door or go around to the front. Just where did he stand with Mandy? Bill waved through the kitchen window, then opened the door.

  Danny walked into the kitchen. “Hey, Bill. What’s going on?”

  “Dunno.” Bill shoved his hand into a bag of potato chips. “Mandy’s upset about something.”

  Guilt sandbagged Danny. Was she worried about him? He should have called to let her know he was fine.

  The door opened. Mandy came through. “Bill, would you—” Spying Danny, she stopped short. “Oh, you’re back.”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

  “It’s all right. You didn’t make any promises.” But she kept her distance, moving to the counter to clean up some dirty dishes. “Bill, would you check on Mom?”

  “Sure, Mandy.” Bill tucked a bag of chips under his arm. “Maybe she’ll watch Star Wars with me.”

  Mandy smiled, but her eyes were sad. She glanced at the bandage on Danny’s hand. “How’s your cut?”

  “Fine. Just a few stitches.”

  She nodded, and Danny wondered how to address the awkwardness that had sprung up between them. Was she upset that he’d wanted to kiss her? Or had she remembered she wanted him to leave because he reminded her of a terrible incident? Or was something else bothering her? He’d been careful not to mention Nathan.

  Tires crunched on gravel. Mandy startled. Danny went to the window. A police cruiser pulled into the lot. Doug Lang got out.

  “What’s he doing here?”

  Mandy crossed her arms over her chest. “Mom called him.”

  Alarm buzzed through Danny. “Why? What happened?”

  Mandy looked away. Her pretty mouth tightened in a way that made Danny want to fix everything for her, right after he kissed it. “Bill didn’t put the flowers on the porch. He didn’t tie that branch over the door either.”

  Danny shoved a hand through
his hair. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier.”

  “I told you. It’s OK.” But her voice was chilly enough to keep cocktail shrimp fresh.

  “No, it’s not. I had to meet the insurance guy at Reed’s house, but I had plenty of time to stop back here. I just…” don’t feel like much of a man anymore. “Needed time to think.” Christ. He’d almost spilled his girly guts. That would really make him feel more manly. Tune in at six to watch an Iraq war veteran spontaneously grow a vagina.

  Danny followed her outside. Together they watched Lieutenant Lang strut across the back lawn. He climbed the three wooden steps onto the porch and stopped a few feet away from them. “OK, what’s the problem?”

  Mandy pointed at the flowers and the branch over the door. “Someone left those here during the night.”

  Hands on hips, the cop stared at the container of flowers. “And you think a pot of pansies is threatening?”

  “My mother was concerned,” she said.

  “They’re flowers,” the lieutenant scoffed. “It was probably your brother. He does weird shit all the time.”

  Mandy shook her head. “He says he didn’t.”

  The cop’s eyes narrowed on the kitchen window. Bill’s figure was moving around in the kitchen. “Bill!”

  “Don’t yell at him,” Mandy snapped.

  Bill shuffled out the door. His head hung in a way that put Danny’s protective instincts on edge. He put a hand on Bill’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Bill focused on the floorboards.

  “Are you sure you didn’t put these flowers here for your sister?” The cop had lowered his voice, but his tone was short on patience.

  “N-no.” Bill backed away from the cop until he was flat against the closed door. “I’d never give Mandy anything like that. It’s scary.”

  The cop rolled his eyes. Bill studied his gigantic sneakers and dug a toe into the doormat.

  Mandy stepped in front of her brother. “Lieutenant, I don’t appreciate—”

  “Hey, Bill?” Danny cut her off. Making a major production out of the cop’s assholeness wasn’t going to help her brother. Bill’s gaze lifted to Danny’s knees. “My hand really hurts. Could you get me a bag of ice?”