Fear Familiar Bundle

by Caroline Burnes

  Walking to the window, Cassandra watched the showy display of electricity. She loved thunderstorms on the mountain. Somehow, it put life in perspective. The cabin was storm tight, and the rain pounding against the glass was normally soothing. Even the rumble of the thunder was usually comforting. Tonight, it only confirmed Cassandra's imprisonment. She stared out the window, her fingers tracing the cool pane.

  A triple-pronged fork of light blazed across the noisy sky. At the edge of the woods, a lone figure stared at the house.

  The scream caught in Cassandra's throat. She put her hand to her mouth, holding back silence. The figure, and it was a man, stood watching the house. His hands hung down at his sides, empty fists dangling. Buckets of rain fell on him, but he didn't move. He watched the darkened house.

  "Adam." Cassandra whispered the name. "Adam!" she cried, but it was only a harsh whisper. She wasn't afraid the man outside would hear. The storm was far too loud. But her voice wouldn't work. She couldn't tear her gaze away from the man. It was almost as if they were bonded together.

  Outside, the storm raged, but the only sound in the room was the movement of Familiar. The cat jumped to the windowsill beside Cassandra. His back went into a tight arch, and a deep, guttural hiss escaped from him.

  "Familiar," Cassandra said, and it broke her vocal paralysis. "Adam!" she called out loud. "Hurry!"

  Her cry was greeted by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. She turned to motion Adam toward her. "Quick. There's someone in the yard."

  "What is it?" Hair tousled, Adam hurried to the window. "Where?" He searched the grayness. "There's no one there. What are you talking about?"

  Turning back to search the grounds outside the house, Cassandra, too, found emptiness. Only Familiar seemed to see, or sense, the stranger. He remained arched on the sill, his lips curled back on low growls.

  "There was a man there," Cassandra said quickly. "It was the killer. I know it was him. He was watching the house." She took a shaky breath. "It was almost as if he knew me and was watching me."

  "Did you get a good look at him?" All traces of sleep were gone from Adam's face. "I'm going out to take a look for some clues."

  "The rain," Cassandra said bleakly. "It'll wash everything away."

  Adam took four long steps across the room to the door. "Flashlight?"

  "On the shelf beside the door. Be careful."

  The din of the storm entered the house for a split second as Adam opened the door and rushed barefoot into the rain.

  Taking up her watch at the window, Cassandra saw him searching the edge of the woods. She watched with her heart in her throat. What if someone came out of the trees and attacked Adam?

  When he turned back, running toward the house with long-legged strides, she felt relief. She hurried to the bathroom, grabbed a towel, and met him at the door.

  "Nothing," he said as he dried the cold rain from his face and head. "The ground is an inch deep in water."

  "I saw him," Cassandra answered. "I swear it."

  "Can you describe him?"

  Cassandra thought for a moment. "Not really. He was bigger than average height. Muscular."

  "Hair?"

  "I couldn't see."

  "Clothes?"

  "A long-sleeved blue jacket. Dark pants, long. Jeans, maybe." She paused. "Nothing, really, now that I try and tell you about it. I didn't see enough to be of help at all. And I stared at him."

  "From a long distance through a rainstorm," Adam soothed her. He brushed back a curl of her hair. The triangle of skin between her eyebrows was furrowed with worry. "At least you saw someone, and now you know it isn't me."

  "I saw someone," Cassandra said, turning away. "And I'm more confused than ever. I don't know who to believe. I don't even know if I believe my own eyes."

  Chapter Five

  "You're very pretty, you know. Since you're new in the area, I'd like to show you some of the better views."

  The voice seemed to come from under water. Dark and undulating, it penetrated her ears and nose and mouth. Cassandra felt herself drowning and struggled to get to the surface, but she could not move.

  "I have to be at work in a couple of hours. Besides, I'm not really new here anymore. I've been here three weeks."

  This voice, light and feminine, held the echo of death. Cassandra had to warn her, to speak, but she was weighed down by water.

  "Just a ride around. Take in a few of the scenic views. There's one really special one…in the park."

  "I shouldn't."

  "But you want to."

  The young woman's laughter was light and easy. "Sorry, mister, maybe another time. I'm new here, and I have to have this job. Besides, my mother told me never to take up with strangers. Especially not when murders are happening."

  "Your mama was right. But I'm no stranger."

  "Yeah, you're familiar. Too familiar. You act like we've known each other for years." The laughter came again, rich and carefree. "Ask me again, another time."

  The voices faded. Penned under the murky depths of the water, Cassandra felt the lull of the waves. The danger was over. The voices were still. She slept.

  * * *

  ADAM PUT HIS HAND on Cassandra's forehead. She was cool and apparently sound asleep. For a moment, he'd thought she was going to have another nightmare. She'd begun to struggle fiercely, mumbling words under her breath he couldn't understand. Now, though, she settled back into an easy sleep.

  He debated whether to wake her and decided against it. It was late morning. After breakfast, Cassandra had finally stretched out on the sofa and taken a nap. She'd had only a few hours' sleep, and he could think of no reason to awaken her.

  The storm had detained any phone repair crews. The rain had slacked off, and he'd searched outside the house for clues to the man Cassandra had seen. There was no sign of any intruder. If there had been any, the rain had washed it all away.

  He was about to doze into a light sleep himself when he heard a noise at the front door. His body tensed, his ears straining for any sound.

  Yes, there was a distinct noise coming from the door. He eased off the sofa, careful not to disturb Cassandra, and tiptoed to the front of the house. When he inched the door open, he was met by the dark, intense gaze of a powerfully built young man.

  "Who are you?" the young man asked with hostility in his voice. Dark eyes narrowed. "Where's Cassandra?"

  "Ms. McBeth is safe. Who are you?" Adam kept his voice level. The young man was glowering at him. He noticed the man's hair was long and dark, tied at the base of his skull with a leather thong. His features were distinctly American Indian.

  "My name is Bounder. Who are you?" He jammed his foot into the crack in the door. "Where is Cassandra?"

  "She's asleep," Adam answered. The young man looked dangerous, but he also acted as if he had a right to be on Cassandra's property. "I'm Adam Raleigh, a business acquaintance of Ms. McBeth's."

  "I need to speak with her." Bounder flexed his leg enough to let Adam know that he wouldn't back down from a physical confrontation.

  Adam studied the young man, taking in the features that marked him as Indian and proud of it. What the young man lacked in manners and social graces, he made up for in physical strength and fierceness. All in all, maybe he wasn't a bad friend for Cassandra to have. If he were a friend.

  "She's asleep," Adam repeated. "She had a rough night. I don't want to wake her."

  A half smile touched Bounder's features. "I'll wait. I have something important to tell her."

  Before Adam could respond, the young man withdrew from the door and took a seat in a rocking chair on the front porch.

  "She may sleep for a while," Adam said. He was taken aback by the young man's sudden show of docility.

  "It doesn't matter," Bounder said slowly as he rocked back in the chair. "I must speak with her, so I'll wait." He turned to face Adam directly. "The Cherokee people are used to waiting, Mr. Raleigh. We wait, but we do not forget." He closed his eyes as if he
, too, intended to nap.

  "Great," Adam mumbled to himself as he closed the door. There was a serial killer on the loose, an intruder in Cassandra's isolated mountain yard, and now an Indian rebellion on her front porch. What else could happen?

  "Meow!" The cry and the hook of sharp claws into the calf of his leg came simultaneously. Adam looked down at the intense yellow eyes of the black cat.

  "Breakfast?" Adam inquired. "Would you care for eggs Benedict, perhaps a little caviar and champagne?" He sighed. "Okay, let's check the refrigerator and see what Cassandra has for you to eat. If you won't tattle on me, I might even see if I can find some coffee. Tea's great, but coffee really gets the blood kicking in the morning."

  Together, Adam and Familiar settled in the kitchen as Cassandra slept and Bounder waited.

  * * *

  CASSANDRA STRETCHED her aching muscles. She was surprised by the texture of the sofa beneath her. Falling asleep on the sofa wasn't one of her bad habits. She awoke completely when she heard voices in the kitchen. Adam, yes, but who was he talking to?

  She got up and padded on bare feet, noticing that someone had removed her shoes and put them neatly beside the sofa, to the kitchen door. Her full lips curled into a genuine smile at the sight of Adam talking to Familiar. The cat watched him, as if he were listening to every word. There was an empty bowl on the floor, indicating that Familiar had finished his breakfast, and Adam was sipping a cup of coffee.

  Cassandra walked into the room, took a cup and poured herself a full measure of coffee. She was further amused by Adam's startled expression. "It only makes sense that I drink it if I have it in my home," she said, lifting the cup in a toast. "To caffeine, in a very pleasurable form."

  "I was surprised to find the pot and the coffee," Adam admitted. "I hope you don't mind that I took the liberty…"

  "Not at all. Did I miss anything?"

  "There's a young man on your porch. He said his name is Bounder."

  "Why didn't you ask him in?" Cassandra asked quickly. "Why is he on the porch?"

  "I didn't know exactly what to do. He's rather fierce."

  Cassandra's laughter was surprisingly light. "He can be. Honestly, though, he's the most gentle person I've ever known. His looks are a great defense." She put her cup on the table and went to the front door. In a moment she returned with the young man in tow.

  She made the introductions. "Adam thinks you're fierce," she told Bounder as she gave him a hug. "I told you not to scowl at people. You do look as if you could swipe their heads off with one angry blow."

  "I intended to look fierce, just in case he meant you harm," Bounder said. He looked at Adam and spoke to Cassandra. "I was surprised to find a man in your home."

  The comment put a slight stain on Cassandra's face. "Life has a way of handing you lots of surprises, Bounder." She gave him a cup of coffee. "Now, where is Running Stream?"

  "At the reservation working in the trading post. She sent me. She was worried about you. When she tried to call, the phone was dead. The drive to your house was roadblocked when I came up."

  "What?" Cassandra looked quickly at Adam. "What do you mean?"

  "One of those orange and white sawhorses, like road crews use. It was across your driveway with a sign saying the road was out."

  "That's absurd!" Cassandra said.

  "I know that now." Bounder smiled. "I walked up here and there's nothing wrong with your road. So who put the barricade up?"

  "Good question," Adam noted. "And why?"

  He caught Cassandra's eye. They were thinking the same thing. The stranger from last night. The man had no doubt driven in, put up the barricade, and then come up to the house. Why? There wasn't a single answer to that question that Adam liked.

  Cassandra told Bounder about the intruder. The young man insisted on checking the area, even though Adam had gone over it thoroughly.

  "No offense," Bounder said with the first real smile on his face, "but historically, I'm better at this."

  Adam laughed. "I'll go, too. There's always the chance I can learn something new."

  Cassandra returned to the window as Adam and Bounder went out into the warming sunshine to look for clues.

  Alone with her thoughts, she felt a growing dread. Something was happening around her, something that she had no real part in, but she had been pulled into it nonetheless. Fragments of her earlier dream returned to her. The images were watery, flickering in and out. The girl. She'd been young, vivacious. For some reason Cassandra had an image of shoulder-length brown hair. Straight and shiny. A happy face with eyes that crinkled. Who was she? More importantly, was she the next victim?

  An idea formed in Cassandra's mind. The girl in her dream said she had a job. The other two women who had been murdered had been in the area to work, too. If she could drive around, maybe visit a few shops and restaurants, she might find the girl and warn her. It was a straw to clutch at, but so far the only one she had.

  She rushed into her bedroom and began pulling out clothes. She found a casual dress and flats, something suitable for an afternoon in the shops. By the time she heard the front door open and close, she was ready to go.

  "We have to go into town," she said before Adam or Bounder could say anything. "I have to find the young woman."

  "Cassandra," Adam said slowly, "have you lost an earring?"

  She automatically reached up to her ear. The tiny stud was still in place. She checked the other one. "No. But listen, we have to go to town."

  "It isn't hers," Bounder said, his eyes hard and speculating. From his pocket he withdrew a shiny, dangling bit of metal. "Cassandra doesn't wear this type of jewelry. No hoops or dangling things. I knew when I found it it wasn't hers."

  Cassandra took two steps toward the earring. The sun, which was fully out now, caught the bits of metal and glinted from them. The tiny pieces clinked together as Bounder held it aloft.

  "It's Carla's earring," Cassandra said. She recognized it immediately. "I saw it in the dream. It almost touched her shoulder. Her hair was short…"

  Adam was at her side, his strong arm around her waist. She wasn't going to faint, but she liked his support anyway. "You found that in my yard?"

  Adam answered first. "I missed it completely when I looked. It was buried under some dirt and leaves from the rain. Bounder found it."

  The Indian walked forward and gave the earring to Cassandra.

  "Is there any way we can find out from Sheriff Beaker if Carla Winchester was wearing earrings?" Cassandra said. "I'm certain this is hers, but I want to know for positive. From a source other than my dreams."

  "You saw the earring clearly?" Adam asked.

  "Yes. It was unusual. I remembered it." She hesitated. "I liked it, the way it hung from beneath her short hair. This is it, I'm certain. Dead certain."

  "I doubt Beaker'll tell us much of anything," Adam said.

  "We could take him this earring. If she had only one when they found her, and if it matched this one, he'd have to believe us." Cassandra examined the earring in her hand. It was inexpensive, but pretty, a mixture of shiny metal and light-catching crystals. She could picture it dangling from Carla's short, curly hair, just above her shoulder. Tears threatened suddenly and she blinked them back.

  Adam's grip tightened around her. He gave a gentle squeeze of support. "We could do that, but it might only convince Beaker that you're involved in the murders. He did imply that, you know."

  "Damn!" Cassandra exploded. "You're right. I can't take this to him and try to help, because he suspects me. What am I supposed to do?" Her frustration was evident.

  Bounder and Adam exchanged looks. They had no simple answers.

  "Why did you want to go to town?" Adam asked.

  Cassandra told them her idea about looking for the girl in her dream.

  "It's a long shot," Adam acknowledged, "but so far, it beats sitting here and waiting. We'll take the earring. Maybe we'll think of some way to approach Beaker with this."

 
"You could take it to the shops and ask the clerks if they remember someone buying it. It is an interesting piece of work. Those crystals are not expensive, but many of the local craftsmen are using them for jewelry," Bounder said. "Many Flowers makes jewelry from them. I've been helping her. If someone bought the earring as a gift for the dead woman, then you have a lead."

  "That's a great idea," Cassandra said. "If we could find the shop, maybe they'd remember the earring, then…" She paused. "Then I could reasonably assume that the man who was watching my house is the killer."

  "Or that Carla was here, on your premises for some reason shortly before she died," Adam added. "That's what I'm afraid Sheriff Beaker will assume."

  "Let's go before I lose my nerve," Cassandra said. "Bounder, tell Running Stream that I'm fine. I'll stop by to see her on my way home, if Adam will take me. My car's in the shop."

  "I will," Adam agreed. "And we'll give Bounder a ride to his car. I want to take a look at that barricade with him. He does have an eye for details."

  The two men exchanged a smile, and for the first time in hours, Cassandra felt a moment of satisfaction. It was her strong opinion that Bounder needed to know more men away from the reservation. He was heavily involved in political movements within the Indian community and some of the men who influenced him were spoiling for trouble. Bounder had a right to make his own choices, but Cassandra wanted to be certain they were informed choices, not emotional ones. He needed to learn that not every white man was evil.

  "Watch the house," she instructed Familiar as she started out the door behind the men.

  "Aren't you going to lock it?" Adam asked.

  Cassandra shook her head. "There's no point. If someone wants in, they'll get in. I've never locked my door."

  "It might be time to start," Adam said. He took Cassandra's keys from her hand. "No, let's rephrase that. This is absolutely the time to start taking precautions."