by Debra Webb
Sadie reached for Lyle’s arm. Her fingers curled into his shirtsleeve. “I’d like to go now.”
She couldn’t get out of the house fast enough. She needed air and there was none in this place. It was a tomb. Misery and death lingered with the dust and cobwebs.
Sadie rushed out the back door and through the screen door, letting it flap closed. She gasped for air and struggled to restrain the heaving that threatened to humiliate her. She braced against the big tree trunk, the one closest to the house, while Lyle banged on the boards until they covered the door sufficiently.
Beyond the barn, deep in the woods would be the burial ground where the remains of those eight young girls were found.
Sadie stared up at the window of the children’s room.
That had been her room. She blinked, understood that cold hard truth with utter certainty. This had been her home.
With at least one murderer.
9:30 p.m.
SHE WAS FINALLY ASLEEP. Lyle covered Sadie with a blanket. The old sofa couldn’t be that comfortable, but he didn’t want to risk rousing her by carrying her to her bedroom. The day had taken a lot out of her.
Gus had called twice. She had refused to talk to him. Lyle kept expecting him to show up at the door, but that hadn’t happened. When they returned from Granger, she had pored over the newspaper articles. She’d asked him dozens of questions he couldn’t answer.
Then she’d finally given up the battle with exhaustion and wilted on the sofa. He was damned tired, too, but that demand would have to wait. The dogs had been fed but the horses needed tending and the barn secured for the night.
When he was sure she was down for the count, he grabbed her house key, locked the doors and headed for the barn. What had to be done would take only a few minutes. Make sure the animals had food and water, close the doors and then he might try catching a few minutes of shut-eye in the upholstered rocker that had been Adele’s favorite chair. She’d crocheted the doily draped over the back of it. He remembered Sadie complaining that she’d attempted to teach her to no avail.
Sadie wasn’t the domestic type. She preferred rubbing down horses and mucking stalls to crocheting and serving tea. All the Gilmore women had been genteel Southern ladies. But not Sadie. She had been too full of life and curiosity to sit still long enough to play refined. She loved getting her hands dirty and her body sweaty.
Lyle had fallen in love with her the first time he laid eyes on her at the Long Branch Saloon. He’d just turned twenty-one and had bought his first legal beer. Sadie and a couple of her friends had gotten in with fake IDs and claimed a table next to the dance floor. One dance was all it had taken, and every cell in his body had burned to tame the girl. But she was having none of that. No one was going to tame Sadie Gilmore.
They had met for several dates before he found out her real name and the truth about her age. Fifteen. Beautiful and dangerous to a guy over the age of legal consent. He’d tried to break it off with her, but she was as stubborn as she was beautiful. She’d teased and taunted him, and he hadn’t been able to say no to anything she wanted, much less to their secret rendezvouse. The last night they had been together she had begged him to make love to her.
As much as he had wanted to, he’d refused. She was too young. Her daddy was already on to him. He’d threatened Lyle on more than one occasion. Not that Lyle could blame him. His daughter was barely more than a child. In his brain, Lyle had understood that. But his heart wouldn’t deny her. He had known that final night that if he didn’t leave he would cross the line. He couldn’t do that to her or to himself. She deserved the chance to grow up and become the woman she was destined to be without him charting a different path for her. Gus had warned him that he would disown Sadie if she ran away with Lyle.
So he’d walked away and never looked back. It had been the right thing to do in his mind at the time.
But he’d never stopped wanting her…never stopped loving her. On her eighteenth birthday he had tried to call, but she’d been in Cancún or some party place. He’d left a message, even sent a card, but she never responded.
That was the last time he’d tried. He closed the barn doors and started back to the house. For some reason he hadn’t bothered to get involved with anyone else. The occasional date here and there. A few one-night stands. Work kept him busy most days, and dreams of Sadie had filled his nights.
Sadie’s old truck snagged his attention. The front fender on the driver’s side was dented. He was pretty sure he would have noticed that if the damage had been there before. Running his hand over the bent metal, he leaned down to get a closer look.
The force of the blow to the back of his head rammed his forehead against the fender. He tried to raise up, turn around and defend himself, but the night closed in on him.
He had to get to Sadie. That thought followed him into the blackness.
* * *
“STOP.” SADIE COULD hear the dogs yapping like mad but she was too tired to wake up. She needed to sleep. If she woke up she would have to remember.
She didn’t want to remember.
Her chest burned. She coughed.
Abigail was sitting on her chest licking Sadie’s face.
“Stop.” She turned her face into the pillow but the dogs just wouldn’t shut up. Abigail was dancing around on her chest. She wouldn’t stop.
As if each one weighed ten pounds, Sadie forced her eyelids to open. She blinked. How long had she been asleep?
Not long enough apparently. She didn’t want to wake up. Gator stuck his face in hers. Barked in that deep Lab roar.
“Damn it, Gator.” Sadie sat up, ushered Abigail aside. She closed her eyes to stop the spinning in her head. What was wrong with her?
She drew in a deep breath to rouse her brain. She choked, coughed like the old man with COPD who shoed her horses. She swiped the tears from her eyes and blinked.
What the hell? Why was the room foggy?
She tested her next breath. More coughing.
Smoke.
Sadie shot to her feet. Staggered. The dogs went crazy.
She turned around in the room. Smoke came from every direction.
The house was on fire.
She tried to feel her way to the entry hall and kept bumping into furniture. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see.
What was that adage she learned in school? Stop, drop and roll.
The dogs were tangling in her feet. Wait, she couldn’t stop! She had to find a way out of here.
The front window. Sadie dropped onto all fours. The smoke was thinner down here. She scrambled to the window overlooking the porch. Keeping her head as low as possible, she reached up and pushed at the lower window sash with all her strength. Slowly, an inch at a time, it raised. She lifted the latch for the old-fashioned screen and pushed it out of the window’s frame.
“Abigail, come.” Sadie poked her upper body through the window, the little dog in hand, and deposited her onto the porch. Frisco was next. He jumped out of her arms and right through the window opening.
Gator was going to take some doing. “Come on, boy.” She grabbed him by the collar and dragged his seventy pounds to the window. She patted the window ledge. “Jump, boy, jump.” The smoke burned her throat, her nose and eyes. She couldn’t get a breath. She needed this dog to cooperate.
Nothing was ever that easy with Gator. Once she got him to poke his head and front legs out the window, she basically lifted and pushed the rest of him out.
Sadie collapsed on the floor, wheezing and coughing.
She had to get up. Her brain knew this but her body would not respond to the commands.
“Get up, Sadie,” she muttered.
Didn’t work. Just made her cough some more. She was so tired. Her eyes were burning. Something crashed in the kitchen. There were strange crackling noises. Or maybe scratching…
She was in that yard behind the old Barker house. The wind was blowing and the tree limb was scratching the window. Her s
ister was pushing her in the swing. Only it wasn’t old and rusty. It was shiny and new. Their daddy had bought it for Christmas. Another little blond-haired girl chased a dog around in the grass.
Her sister. Sadie had two sisters. Not Sadie. Sarah. Her name was Sarah.
Wait… Now they were in that old bed together. Someone was coming. She could hear the footfalls in the hall outside their room.
I’m ’fraid.
Hands were touching her, pulling and tugging. Sadie fought the hands. She didn’t want to go. She was afraid. She told herself to scream, but her lips wouldn’t form the sound.
Her head hit something. Her eyes were burning. She couldn’t see. She fell. Hit the floor.
This was bad. She was going to die…again.
“Sadie!” The voice shook her mind awake. “Sadie, breathe!”
She gasped. Coughed so hard she vomited.
The hands rolled her onto her side. She wasn’t on the floor anymore. She was in the grass. Where was the swing set? Where were her sisters? Why couldn’t she open her eyes?
“Come on, Sadie. Talk to me!”
Bright lights blinded her. Colors flashed and the sound piercing the air hurt her ears.
Where was she? Home? Where was home?
The dogs were yapping again.
Something covered her face. The air smelled better now. She blinked at the sting in her eyes.
Why was she on the ground?
Who were all these people?
Fire.
Ice filled her veins. She tried to sit up. Strong hands held her down.
Sadie yanked the mask off her face and screamed, “Lyle!”
Dear God, he was still in the house!
“Calm down, Miss Gilmore,” the man urged. “You’re going to be all right.”
Paramedic. She recognized the uniform now. Why wouldn’t her brain work properly? People were everywhere. They were spraying the flames shooting up from the roof of her house with their big hoses. Others were shouting instructions. The dogs cowered close to her, but something was still wrong.
What was she supposed to remember?
Lyle. Where was Lyle?
Sadie scrambled away from the paramedic as he reached to put the mask back on her face.
“Lyle!”
She staggered to her feet, turned around and around, tried to spot his face in the crowd.
Where was he?
“Ma’am, please,” the paramedic urged, “you need the oxygen. And you need to sit down.”
She smacked at his hands. “I have to find Lyle. He was in the house, too.” Why wouldn’t anyone listen to her? Tears burned her cheeks. What had happened? She didn’t understand this. Where was he? “I can’t find him.”
“It’s all right, ma’am,” the paramedic said, “your friend is safe. He’s in the ambulance already. Got himself a bleeder, but he’s going to be just fine. We had a time talking him into leaving you long enough to get stitched up.”
Sadie tore away from the paramedic and ran for the ambulance. She stumbled, picked herself up and started running again. Gator, Frisco and Abigail chased her, yapping wildly. The paramedic shouted at her but she ignored him and everyone else tramping around on her property.
Lyle sat on the gurney inside the ambulance. A paramedic taped a bandage to the back of his head.
“Lyle.” She felt weak. She needed to lie down.
He pushed the paramedic’s hand away and turned to her. Sadie wasn’t sure which one did what, but somehow she was suddenly in his arms and that was all that mattered.
“You scared the hell out of me, kid,” he murmured against her hair.
“I’m not a kid anymore, I told you.” She buried her face in his chest to hide the sobs she couldn’t contain.
“Ain’t that the truth,” he whispered.
It definitely was, and the first chance she got she intended to show him just how much woman she was.
Chapter Eleven
10:40 p.m.
Lucas Camp leaned forward, pressing his right eye to the telescope zoomed in on Clare Barker’s first-floor apartment window across the courtyard. He’d leased the apartment directly across from hers, on the ground floor as well. She’d retired for the evening more than an hour ago. The lights had gone out and he’d watched as she closed the blinds.
He wasn’t concerned about her escaping without his knowledge, since there was no back door with any of these apartments. Most were studios, a few one-bedrooms. There was a front entrance and one window. The building was brick. Any escape through the wall would require tools Clare Barker had not carried into the apartment with her and which would generate sound.
On his routine strolls of the grounds, Lucas surveyed the back side of the row of apartments that included hers twice each day. So far she hadn’t come outside even once. No cell phone transmissions, no conversation at all. The parabolic ear focused on her apartment had picked up nothing at all. He had, however, picked up more than a few eyebrow-raising conversations from one or more of her nearby neighbors. Occasionally, he got a glimpse of her at the window.
Her attorney had dropped by once. Otherwise there had been no visitors. Lucas was not convinced by her pretense of fading into the background like this. She was up to something. He just hadn’t latched on to a decent theory yet. She was far too smart not to have a plan of some sort. Whether it was the one her husband alleged was yet to be seen.
Clare had graduated from Texas A&M’s College of Veterinary Medicine just like her husband. They’d met in the program and married right after graduation. It still rattled him that a man and woman who appeared to have such compassion for animals could be such cold-blooded killers. His instincts leaned toward the idea that one of them wasn’t. The only question was which one.
Lucas settled into the chair he had positioned for the view of his subject’s apartment. He’d called Victoria to wish her a good-night. She had sounded tired and frustrated. The case had gotten under her skin far too deeply.
A few hours’ sleep and he would check in with her again. Perhaps after some sleep Victoria would feel more like herself. Before giving in to the need for downtime, Lucas checked his equipment one last time. If Clare Barker spoke to anyone, he would know it. If she opened her front door, the motion sensor he had placed on her door frame would trigger an alarm right here in his place. She wasn’t going anywhere without his knowledge.
May 23, 12:23 a.m.
THE WAIL OF SIRENS startled Lucas from sleep. He sat up. Lights flashed in the courtyard. The sirens heralded the arrival of fire trucks and emergency responder vehicles. He checked Clare’s door via the telescope. Still closed and her lights were out. He shut off the parabolic ear and grabbed his handgun. At the door he shoved the gun into his waistband beneath his jacket before stepping outside.
Shouting from the two-story building at the rear of the complex drew his attention that way. Flames were already leaping from the rooftop. Occupants had spilled into the courtyard. Rescue personnel and some occupants were rushing from door-to-door to ensure no one was left behind in the apartments.
Lucas watched for the lights to come on in Clare’s apartment. He strode quickly across the courtyard, tuning out the panicked voices all around him. Being pent up in that apartment for the past sixty or so hours had made his gait stiffer than usual.
A whoosh loud enough to drown out all else drew his attention to the end of the one-story row of studio apartments on Clare’s side of the courtyard. Most of the occupants on that side had already filtered onto the sidewalk in front of their apartments. Dazed and confused residents wandered all around the courtyard. Lucas hurried to cut through the gathering crowd, his attention focused on one door in particular.
“Sir!”
Lucas turned to the police officer who had shouted at him.
“We’ve shut down traffic. We need to get everyone across the street. If you could help rather than moving toward the danger, it would be much appreciated.”
Lucas thanked him
and then headed toward Clare’s apartment in defiance of his request. He would like to help, but right now he had to get to that apartment. Two more officers were already moving door-to-door from the end of the one-story row nearest the eruption of flames, checking the apartments to confirm they were empty.
One of the officers reached Barker’s door at the same time as Lucas. “There’s a female inside,” he explained. “Late fifties. Clare Barker. I didn’t see her come out.”
“Step aside, sir.”
Lucas stood aside while the officer banged on the door and shouted instructions for anyone inside. The two-story building a few yards away was already fully consumed. The fire was burning swiftly through the old one-story portion on this side of the courtyard.
“Let’s go in,” the second officer to arrive at the door ordered. On closer inspection, Lucas realized this one was a member of the rescue squad.
The handheld battering ram knocked the door off its hinges with one blow. The two official personnel rushed inside, one hitting the lights. Lucas was right behind them.
“The place is clear,” the officer in the lead yelled.
The second turned and came face-to-face with Lucas. “Sir, we need you to move across the street. This is a dangerous situation.”
“I just need a look,” Lucas pressed. “She’s a little off in the head,” he improvised. “She could be hiding in the closet.”
The men exchanged a look. The rescue responder said, “All right, but make it quick.” To his colleague he added, “Watch him. Get him out of here as soon as he’s had a look.”
Lucas rushed to the bedroom area that was divided from the living room area by a built-in bookshelf. The closet was empty. No clothes, nothing.
He moved into the bathroom, ignoring the cop’s threats to drag him out if he didn’t come with him. The cramped bathroom was empty, the shower door pushed inward, revealing dingy tile and no Clare Barker. Lucas started to turn away, but he decided to pull the shower door outward and check that side of the shower stall first.
The tile had been removed in a small area. He dropped into a crouch and checked the hole. It went all the way through to the next apartment. Just large enough for a small, slim woman to slither through.
