Secret Sanctuary

by Amanda Stevens

The tunnel, as it turned out, had melded into a cave, the mouth of which opened in the side of a cliff. Thirty feet below him, the surf pounded against the rocky shoreline, but tonight there was no boat waiting to take him to freedom, no beacon of welcome or warning except for the distant shimmer from the lighthouse.

  Cullen glanced up. It was another twenty feet or so to the top, and from there a long hike down Old Mountain Road to the cemetery where he’d left his car. But that seemed his best shot. He started to climb.

  He was almost at the top, ready to reach a hand over the edge of the cliff and pull himself up when he happened to glance up. A dark form dressed in dark clothing stood at the top of the cliff, staring down at him.

  David Bryson…

  WHEN ELIZABETH came to, she was lying on her back on a stainless-steel table. She could feel the smooth, cool surface beneath her bare skin, and that’s when she realized she was naked.

  Naked!

  Where was she? She blinked, trying to focus, but all she could see were vague shapes. She struggled to sit up, but a wave of nausea rolled over her, and groaning, she collapsed against the table. Which was just as well, seeing as how she was strapped down.

  Strapped down!

  She glanced around frantically as everything came back in a horrifying rush. The mausoleum. Cullen! He was trapped underground! His claustrophobia! She had to get to him!

  Elizabeth redoubled her efforts to sit up, but it was no use. She fell back, gazing frantically around. Where was she?

  There was a picture on the wall beside the table, and she concentrated until it came into focus. It was an anatomical chart representing the circulatory and muscle systems of the human body.

  Was she in some sort of classroom? A science lab?

  She moved her gaze to the closed door just to her right. There were danger signs mounted on the white surface, a warning that this was a formaldehyde area.

  Elizabeth’s heart started to beat painfully. At the end of the table on which she lay were a series of hoses and pumps. A shelf above her head contained several bottles of fluid in different colors. Some of them were pink. Embalming fluid…

  She gasped in horror. She was at the funeral home. In the embalming room…

  A scream bubbled in her throat, but Elizabeth forced it back. She couldn’t panic. She had to find a way to free herself. And then she had to go and rescue Cullen.

  She closed her eyes, trying to think what to do. When she opened them again, a man in a white lab coat stood over her.

  “You’re awake, I see.”

  Elizabeth blinked. He wasn’t at all who she’d expected to see. “Lucian?” He looked like Lucian and yet he didn’t. His eyes were different. No longer dark, but a piercing blue. She’d seen those eyes before….

  His smiled broadened. “Allow me to introduce myself, Elizabeth. I’m Dr. René Rathfastar.”

  Rathfastar? Manning’s protégé?

  “I’m also known as Lucas Cross, the fisherman who rents the apartment above Krauter’s Funeral Home. I’m sure you’ve figured out by now where you are.”

  She moistened her lips, trying to will away her fear. “I thought René Rathfastar was dead.”

  “As you can see, I’m not.”

  “You killed those girls?” When he merely kept smiling, she said almost accusingly, “But that day in the lab. The sight of blood made you sick.”

  He sighed. “An affliction I’ve never gotten over, I’m afraid. It stems from my childhood, when my father, who was an avid big-game hunter, made me dress his kills. It’s ironic, I suppose, that that which repulses me also…stimulates me.”

  Elizabeth swallowed. “Why did you kill them?”

  “You would have figured that out eventually. That’s one of the things I admire most about you. Your fine mind. We have that in common, you know. I was a prodigy, also, and I know how lonely that can be. I was drawn to you…for many reasons.”

  The thought of that made Elizabeth even more ill. She tried to calm her racing heart. She had to keep her wits about her so she could figure out his motive. So she could get one step ahead of him.

  “I don’t understand why you’re doing this.” She let an edge of panic creep into her voice. He would like that.

  “Oh, I think you do understand. You were on the right track, you just didn’t realize it. But one day soon you would have had an epiphany, and then everything would have fallen into place for you. As much as I hated to bring our little game to an end, I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let you ruin my plans. I’ve waited so long.”

  “Since Brussels?” She took a stab in the dark at his motivation.

  His gaze hardened. “Since Leland Manning forced me out of the society. And in the process, he ruined my reputation, my career. He took everything from me. I had to flee the country, to try and start over in Europe, but even there, he still had influence. He still pursued me. Then I had an epiphany.”

  “What was it?” Elizabeth struggled unobtrusively with the bindings that kept her trapped on the table. Bindings that Rathfastar had attached himself because an embalming table usually had no need of them. Elizabeth’s thoughts were slightly hysterical, but she couldn’t seem to rein them in.

  “The car accident was the catalyst,” he said. “I’ll spare you the details of the hell I went through, the months in the hospital, the dozens of agonizing surgeries I had to endure. Suffice it to say, I survived. And I came through the ordeal a new man.” He smiled again. “Literally. I look nothing like my former self, but…” He stroked his chin. “I can’t say that I’m displeased with the results.”

  “What about the real Lucian LeCroix?” Elizabeth thought she already knew the answer.

  “Dead,” he said flatly. “I knew him in college, you see. When our paths crossed again in Europe, he didn’t recognize me. I used an alias to strike up a friendship with him, a bit like that movie. You know. The Talented Dr. Rathfastar.” He laughed, pleased with himself. “Anyway, LeCroix told me about a relationship he’d been in that had gone sour. He was nursing a broken heart and needed a change of scenery. An old friend of his mentor’s, a friend LeCroix himself had never actually met, had gotten him a position at Heathrow College. It was, quite simply, fate. The perfect way to return to Moriah’s Landing. The perfect chance to ruin Leland Manning as he ruined me.”

  “How?” Elizabeth wriggled her hand. If she could somehow manage to slip it free—

  “This is beneath you, Elizabeth.”

  “What?”

  “I can see right through you, you know. You’re not going to be able to get away. Not this time. Let’s just get on with it, shall we?” He turned, picking up a syringe from the tray of instruments behind him.

  “Wait!” Elizabeth cried.

  He glanced down, needle poised over her arm. “This won’t hurt much. Just a little sample for my own purposes, and then we’ll get to the really serious bloodletting.” He reached a gloved hand out and stroked her throat.

  Elizabeth’s skin went clammy with terror. “If I can’t escape, why not tell me what I want to know? It’s not like I can hurt you with the knowledge.” She stared up at him, her eyes pleading. “How could killing those two girls ruin Manning? He’s not even a serious suspect.”

  “He will be. Think about it, Elizabeth. The matching blood type. The similar medical histories. The test tube you found in the funeral home. All that was carefully planned. Everything will eventually lead to Manning, a scientist working with DNA. People already wonder about him and his strange theories. Each new kill will bring the police closer and closer to his door.”

  “Each new kill?” Elizabeth whispered. Dear God, how many did he have planned?

  He saw her face and shrugged. “Oh, come now. You didn’t think I was finished just because our little game has reached its conclusion, did you?”

  She shuddered.

  “In fact, Manning’s next victim lay right where you are less that twenty-four hours ago. Her blood has already been flushed down the
drain, and now she’s on ice, if you’ll pardon my bluntness, at my place on Raven’s Cove, waiting for the right time to…make her appearance. But don’t worry, Elizabeth. I’ll spare you her identity. Why have that on your conscience in the last seconds of your life?”

  Oh, God, who had been his third victim? Brie? Kat? Claire? Terror rushed through Elizabeth’s veins so fast and so furious she could hardly think straight. Hardly keep from screaming, but she knew she had to somehow stay sane. Rathfastar was brilliant, but so was she. She could find a way to outsmart him….

  “How did you know I was getting close to the truth?” she asked softly.

  He cocked his head. “Your cop boyfriend was starting to ask questions around town about Manning. That’s what I wanted. But you. You were asking questions about me. About the society. Sooner or later you would have figured it all out.”

  “But…” How had he known she’d asked questions about the secret society? She hadn’t talked to anyone except her mother….

  And then she remembered Marion’s evasiveness. Her unwillingness to talk about Manning and Rathfastar. Elizabeth recalled her mother’s sudden trip to Brussels, where Rathfastar was last seen, where he’d had a terrible car accident….

  She gazed up into his eyes. Those eyes that were no longer brown, but blue, fringed with thick lashes.

  She had seen those eyes before. And now she knew where.

  An image of her little brother formed in her mind. His sweet face. His light blue eyes. His features that were not like either of his parents’ or his sister’s, but unique.

  Now she knew why.

  “You…and my mother?” she whispered in horror.

  He might have looked wistful if not for those eyes. There was nothing behind them. “My brilliant and beautiful Marion. You think she told me of your interest in the society? I wish I could still count on her loyalty, but she made her choice a long time ago, I’m afraid.” He shrugged. “As it happens, I’ve managed to cultivate a new friendship in the police department. She was—shall we say?—persuaded to copy Detective Ryan’s case files for me. He keeps copious notes, by the way. Unusual for someone of his limited talents. You would be shamefully wasted on someone like him, Elizabeth.”

  The taunt hardly registered. Her mind was still on Brandon. It couldn’t be true. Please don’t let it be true.

  “It is interesting that you should bring up your mother, though.” He glanced down at Elizabeth, his gaze skimming her nude body. “You’re so much like her.” He ran the tip of the syringe along the inside of Elizabeth’s arm, teasing her. “When I’m long gone from here, when Leland Manning has become only a shell of his former self, then I’ll find a way to let Marion know that I was the one who killed her daughter. That’s the price she’ll pay for her betrayal. And as for the boy…”

  A wave of fresh terror swept over Elizabeth.

  “You’re wondering the same thing that’s tormented me for years, aren’t you, Elizabeth? Is Brandon my son, or isn’t he?”

  While they’d been talking, Elizabeth had managed to work one hand free of the straps. When Rathfastar turned to adjust the embalming pump, she glanced around frantically for a weapon.

  The only thing she could see were the bottles of liquid on the shelf near the table. She reached up and grabbed one, working frantically to uncap the lid with one hand.

  When Rathfastar turned back around, she flung the liquid into his eyes. He screamed, lifting his hands to his face, bending double in pain.

  Then his hands dropped, and he was laughing. “It’ll take more than a bottle of distilled water to thwart my plans, Elizabeth.”

  He reached for a scalpel from the tray of instruments. “You’ve got a little more fight left in you than I anticipated,” he said admiringly. “Perhaps we should do something about all that energy.”

  Elizabeth bit back a scream. That was exactly what he wanted, to see her terrified.

  Somewhere behind her, Elizabeth heard a door burst open, and Cullen shouted, “Rathfastar!”

  He looked up, surprised.

  “Put it down,” Cullen yelled. Elizabeth couldn’t see him, but she could hear what sounded like the clomp of running feet through the receiving area. He’d brought reinforcements.

  Rathfastar hesitated, surprised to have his plans interrupted. Especially by someone with such limited talents.

  Elizabeth could have wept in relief. But only for a moment.

  Rathfastar turned back to her, the scalpel poised over her throat. “Perhaps it is you who should drop your weapon, Detective. One slice, and she’s through.”

  A shot rang out, catching Rathfastar in the shoulder. Stunned, he staggered back a few steps, still clinging to the scalpel. A look of rage came over his features, and he lunged toward Elizabeth.

  Cullen fired again, and this time the bullet hit Rathfaster in the chest. The scalpel fell from his fingers as his legs folded and he collapsed to the floor.

  Cullen ran across the room and loosened the straps, and Elizabeth sat up, clinging to him. He took off his coat and wrapped it around her. “How did you know?” she asked breathlessly. “How did you know where to find me?”

  He hesitated. “I guess we’ll have to chalk it up to intuition.”

  “You don’t believe in intuition.”

  “Then maybe I also got a little help from an unexpected source.”

  “What source?”

  “I’ll tell you all about it later. Let’s get out of here. This place gives me the creeps.”

  Outside the funeral home, Elizabeth turned to him as she clutched his coat tightly around her. “I was so worried about you. The thought of you in that awful place. Trapped with your claustrophobia…” She lifted her hand to his face. “I was trying to get free so I could come and rescue you.”

  He swore under his breath, and then he drew her into his arms and held her so tightly she could hardly breathe.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Elizabeth came out of the dressing room and stood in front of the mirror. She hardly recognized herself. The dress she wore was…revealing, to say the least. Black. Short. Clingy.

  She tugged at the low neckline. “I don’t know about this.”

  “It’s what you asked for,” Becca Smith reminded her.

  “Oh, I know. You did a beautiful job. It’s just…”

  “It’s just hot, is what it is.” Kat lounged in a chair near the mirror, eyeing Elizabeth with new respect. “That should bring Cullen up…er…around nicely.”

  Elizabeth glanced at her coolly. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

  Kat laughed. “Oh, come on. You’ve wanted to jump his bones for years. Admit it.”

  Elizabeth’s cheeks turned bright pink.

  “You should see your face,” Kat teased. “It’s like an open book. You never could keep a secret. You’d better leave the subterfuge to Brie.”

  Elizabeth thought of Brandon and the possibility that a vicious killer was his father. That was one secret she would take to her grave.

  Kat got up and sauntered to the door. “I have to get back to the office, but let me know how that dress works out for you. I may want to borrow it. I thought I might try one of those online dating services, see what’s up with that.” She opened the door, then turned back. “Oh, a piece of good news. I heard from Claire’s mother this morning. We’ve all been feeling so badly for upsetting her when we went to see her, but turns out, she started getting better after that. She may even get to come home for a visit.”

  Elizabeth gazed at Kat in alarm. Would that be safe?

  Kat shrugged, intuiting her look. “If she does come home, we’ll have to watch out for her,” she murmured.

  Elizabeth was still thinking about Claire when she left Threads a few minutes later. Whoever had kidnapped and tortured Claire was still out there. Leslie Ridgemont’s murderer was still out there, too, but at least Rathfastar had been stopped. His latest victim, Dana Colby, had been found, as he’d claimed, in a cooler in the
house he’d rented on Raven’s Cove. She, too, had been a student at Heathrow, and Elizabeth’s heart went out to her family.

  It would take a long time for the town to get over this latest reign of terror. As for Elizabeth, she planned to keep working on the mystery of the matching blood types and the similarities in the victims’ medical histories in hopes that her research would lead her to the original killer. And to Claire’s kidnapper. There were still too many unanswered questions in this town, and Elizabeth wouldn’t rest until she found out the truth.

  But for now…first things first.

  She slowly climbed the steps to Cullen’s apartment. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on his door.

  When he answered, he looked as if he’d just come from the shower. He wore jeans and a shirt buttoned up only part of the way. When he saw her, his brows lifted in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

  Elizabeth knew she looked different. She wore a trench coat over the dress, but even so, she’d left her hair down and she had on makeup. “May I come in?”

  He stepped back so she could enter. Elizabeth’s legs were shaking so badly she hoped she didn’t topple off her stiletto heels.

  She turned.

  Cullen’s gaze was all over her. “What’s going on?”

  “I just came by to see how you’re doing. I haven’t seen much of you since we wrapped up the case.” He’d gone back to avoiding her, but Elizabeth wasn’t about to stand for it this time. Not without a fight. She fanned her face. “It’s warm in here, isn’t it. Mind if I take off my coat?” She let it slide down her arms.

  Cullen’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets when he saw the dress.

  Slowly, she walked toward him.

  He backed away from her, until he was up against the wall. “What are you doing, Elizabeth?”

  “Can’t you tell?” she asked in a sultry voice she’d been practicing for days. She ran the tip of her finger down his partially-revealed chest. “I’m trying to seduce you.”

  He caught her hand. “Well, stop it.”

  Elizabeth froze. If she’d been humiliated before, she was positively mortified now. Why had she ever thought she could pull this off? What was she doing here anyway? Couldn’t she take a hint?