Killer's Prey

by Rachel Lee

  He turned that idea around in his mind and realized it was true. He had become invisible. And the next person he would allow to see him was Nora Loftis.

  She was going to be one sorry woman.

  * * *

  A winter wind had swept in by the time they reached the ranch, bringing leaden clouds with it. Rosa had made a big pot of thick, rich potato soup and served them heaping bowls of it while Al assured Jake that he’d taken care of everything in case it stormed.

  “I didn’t hear about snow in the forecast,” Jake remarked.

  “No,” Al agreed. “But to me it looks like it.”

  Jake nodded in agreement. He waved Al to join him at the table for lunch, and soon the four of them were gathered around eating together. To Nora it felt cozy and comforting. Ordinarily Rosa and Al ate at the bunkhouse, but had hesitated only briefly at the invitation this time.

  Had something changed? Maybe this morning when Al had backed up Jake with a shotgun? Maybe they were feeling a little more like family and a little less like employees after that. Pure speculation on her part and no way to ask.

  “So what was with that father of Nora’s?” Rosa asked. “Is he loco? This is not the past century.”

  “Or even two centuries ago,” Jake said. “He acts like it is, though.”

  “He’s always been like that,” Nora volunteered. “His word is law.”

  “Not around here,” Jake said. “I hope he got the message this morning.”

  Nora wondered. Her father had never been one to back down when he believed he was right, which was most of the time. But maybe Gage had successfully scared him.

  Not that he was the biggest of her concerns. No, that sense of being caught in a web that was trembling at the spider’s approach still nagged at her, keeping her on edge. And nothing she had managed to think about today had eased her fear at all. That man was going to come for her. She knew it all the way to her bones. Despite all the protection Jake offered, despite the self-defense he was teaching her, she was still terrified. He was strong. She remembered that. Strong and savage. Facing him down wasn’t likely to succeed for long.

  She ate her soup because she needed to build her strength. She complimented Rosa on it even though she could barely taste it. Fear crept along her nerves like skittering cockroaches. The more time passed since that man had escaped, the more her terror grew because it meant he must be coming closer.

  Even if Conard County had been protected by an army, one man could slip through if he was careful and determined. This was one man.

  “Have you ever fired a shotgun?” Jake asked suddenly.

  Nora looked up. “I’ve never fired a gun at all.”

  “Maybe we need to remedy that.”

  “I don’t like guns.”

  “I’m not crazy about them myself, believe it or not. But when you live on a ranch, you need them. Plus, I’m a cop. I don’t keep an arsenal, but a shotgun is essential out here, and you need to know how to use one. Are you game?”

  “Why do you need a gun? Trespassers?”

  He shook his head. “No, but I have to protect my livestock, and sometimes, if an animal gets badly hurt, I have to put it out of its misery.”

  “Oh.” She shook her head a little. “That must be awful, putting an animal down.”

  “It’s not my favorite part of life, I can tell you. But having to wait on the vet would mean a lot more suffering for the animal. So...” He shrugged. “You do what you have to. Thank God it’s rare.”

  When she thought of the horses she had come to love, or even the dogs that had the run of the place and seemed to mostly do their own thing among the other animals, she was glad to know it was rare.

  “Your dogs aren’t pets,” she remarked, trying to get her mind away from the darkness that loomed.

  “No, they’re not. Good for protecting the herd, good watchdogs, but they’re working dogs. It’s a different kind of relationship.”

  “They seem happy.”

  “They are. They’re not hemmed in.”

  At that, a smile broke through her cloud. “Not stuck inside by the fire.”

  “Nope.” He returned the smile. “I’m not opposed to having one as a pet, but I think it would be jealous of the freedom the others have.”

  “It’s possible,” she agreed. She’d never had a pet, so she could only imagine. “Someday I’d like to have a dog as a pet. I didn’t feel it would be right when I was working, though, because it would be alone all day. That seemed cruel.”

  “Well, adopt one of mine,” Jake suggested. “They may like pretty much running free, but there isn’t one of them that wouldn’t be happy to be petted or put his head on a warm lap for some scratches.”

  “I’ll think about it.” Somehow she couldn’t imagine making a long-term plan right now, or getting emotionally involved with anything. Or anyone, she reminded herself, although she seemed to be developing an attachment to Jake. Rosa and Al, too, but especially Jake. If she survived this, she suspected that was eventually going to hurt, but despite the walls she had been putting up all her life against emotional pain, there seemed to be a few remaining chinks, and Jake had definitely slipped through one.

  “Back to the gun,” he said. “It wouldn’t take long to learn to handle a shotgun.”

  She put her spoon down. Her heart beat nervously as she considered the question. The way she had been seized last time... “No,” she finally said. “No gun.”

  “Why not?”

  “I won’t have a chance to use it if he comes for me again. And I’m not sure I could anyway.”

  “Not even in self-defense?” He seemed a little incredulous.

  She shook her head. “I’m not saying for sure I couldn’t. Most people probably would, and I can understand it. The thing is, there’s a price for that, even when you do it to save your own life. I’d have to live with it. I already have enough to live with.”

  He looked flummoxed, but there were some things she knew about herself, and she knew she was capable of carrying huge burdens of guilt even when she had had no other choice. Imagine knowing she had killed someone. She wasn’t sure she could learn to live with that, whatever the circumstances.

  “Okay,” he said slowly. “You’re probably right. And if you’re not sure you can use it, all you might do is arm him.”

  Rosa nodded vigorous agreement.

  “But,” Jake said almost gently, “if you’re walking around with a shotgun, he’d probably not bother you.”

  At that, with a spontaneous burst of humor that surprised her given how gloomy her thoughts had been running, she replied, “Then he’d just wait for a moment when I don’t have it. Walking down a street, sitting in the library. Can you imagine Emma’s face if I walked into the library armed?”

  At that even Jake cracked a smile, and a quiet chuckle escaped him. “You win, Miss Nora. Okay, no gun. But more self-defense lessons.”

  Nora nodded her agreement, surprised to realize she felt a bit better. She had settled something within herself, even though she wasn’t sure exactly what it was. Nonetheless, her terror eased and a sense of peace edged in, just a bit.

  She guessed deciding her limits made a huge difference. And she had just made them.

  * * *

  Jake spent the remainder of the afternoon outdoors. Apparently he agreed with Al that they had some bad weather on the way. Rosa turned on the radio, and soon there was talk of snow moving in over the mountains. There wouldn’t be a heavy accumulation but the winds would cause whiteout conditions.

  “Not good,” Rosa remarked when Nora came into the kitchen for coffee. “They need to finish soon.”

  Nora looked out the window and saw what she meant. It wasn’t bad yet, but already snow was beginning to blow.

  “Of course, it will keep that man who hurt you from coming closer,” Rosa said reassuringly. “You can relax.”

  Nora flushed. “Is it that obvious?”

  “You’re tense. Why wouldn’t you b
e? I heard what happened, I heard that man escaped. I understand why you are afraid. You don’t think he’ll just keep running?”

  Nora shook her head. “No. He won’t.”

  Rosa sighed and surprised her with a hug. “We all take care of you, okay? But for now, no worries.”

  “Yes.” For now no worries. Trying to move in a whiteout was a recipe for serious trouble. Even that creep had to figure that out. And it wasn’t like he wasn’t familiar with winter weather.

  She returned to the living room with her coffee, aware that the day was darkening into early night, and tried to read.

  But Rosa’s well-intentioned remark had brought it all flooding back. The brief escape she’d been enjoying since she had made her decision about the gun now deserted her, leaving her on the knife-edge of anxiety again.

  She heard Jake come in through the mudroom and speak to Rosa. Moments later, he poked his head in and told Nora he was going to shower and be right back.

  “Rosa is insisting on serving us dinner on trays in here. I don’t know why, maybe she thinks it’s festive.” He winked then headed for the stairs.

  She listened to his feet hit the steps as he ran upstairs, then came the unmistakable sound of the shower being turned on.

  He was back in the house. His mere presence seemed to drive the night back. God, she had it bad, and it worried her that she was becoming so dependent on him. She’d moved away to become independent, and now here she was again with few choices, no place of her own. A backward step on a huge order.

  Yet what choice did she really have? He was right—living alone in town would put her at risk. It wouldn’t be long before everyone knew right where she was, and the most innocent slip of the tongue could bring that creep right to her door.

  Damn, she wished this was over for good, one way or another. That man had wrecked her entire life, and was still wrecking it. Caught in a spiderweb indeed. Nor did there seem to be any way to cut herself loose, short of spending her life on the road always one step ahead of him until he managed to get himself caught.

  Maybe that’s what she should do. But once again she faced the limitations of her finances and wondered how long she could manage it. Skipping from town to town trying to find temporary jobs as a waitress or clerk until the fear overwhelmed her and she had to move on again?

  That was no kind of life. None at all.

  Inwardly she stiffened a bit. No, she wasn’t going to run any farther than she already had. Come what may, she was going to settle this here. Either they caught the guy or she’d face him again, but at least it would be over.

  And sometimes she didn’t even care if she died in the process.

  She wouldn’t let those thoughts take over, though. She knew better than to give in to depression. It would weaken her, make it harder to act. She needed to be able to act when the time came.

  Jake returned, clad in fresh jeans and a black sweater, in stocking feet. He set up the TV tables, and soon Rosa appeared bearing steaming plates of freshly cooked chicken with yellow rice and sides of creamy broccoli. The aromas made Nora’s mouth water, a good sign considering how she had reacted to lunch.

  “I go home now,” she said. “Call if you need me.”

  “Have a good night,” Jake said. “You may need to thaw Al out.”

  Laughing, Rosa departed.

  “It’s getting bad out there,” he remarked as they began eating.

  “Rosa had the radio on. She remarked that it would give me at least a day when I didn’t have to worry.”

  Jake looked up from his plate. “Why do I think that was the wrong thing to say?”

  “It wasn’t, exactly. It’s just that I had managed to forget for a few hours.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No need. She’s right. Nobody’s going to be moving in this. So I can go back to pretending.”

  “Can you?”

  Damn him, sometimes he saw right through her. “I never really do,” she admitted. “I won’t until he’s safely in prison.”

  “I can promise you he won’t get bail again.”

  She nodded, and tried to pay attention to dinner. It was delicious, and it would be a shame to eat it as if it were sawdust. “Don’t you wish I could think about anything else? Talk about anything else?”

  “It’s pretty hard right now, but I understand it. I’m not thinking about much else, either. And since we’re on the subject, why did you look so pale when I came back to the office earlier?”

  She started to shake her head, then decided to just spit it out. Maybe he could clarify her thoughts. “I started to wonder if I was evaluating that creep through the lens of my father. You know how much my father hates defiance. I got to wondering if I’d mixed up his motivation with...Langdon. God, I hate to say his name!”

  “Then don’t. ‘Creep’ will do just fine. So you were wondering if you’d misjudged the creep, he might not come for you at all.”

  “Call it a hope. Anyway, I was trying to remember more about the attack.”

  “Oh, God,” he said quietly. “Are you sure you should do that?”

  “No. It didn’t work anyway. I still have the same bits and pieces to work with, but going through them... Well, it upset me more. Maybe not my brightest move. Regardless, I’m left with this certainty somewhere inside that the creep isn’t going to quit until I’m dead. And the conviction that I won’t be his last. I can’t tell you exactly why, except I guess that’s the impression he left me with, and it’s sticking.”

  “I’m going with your gut instinct. It’s the safest position to take under the circumstances. What’s more, it’s probably right.”

  She looked at him, feeling her eyes widen. Only as a professional had she experienced having her judgments accepted so unquestioningly. “How can you know that?”

  “I don’t know it, but I suspect things you’ve forgotten have added to your evaluation of the guy. The fact that he may resemble your father in some way is probably irrelevant. Very different people do have similar traits. Say, after we eat, wanna play a game?”

  He was trying to distract her, and she grasped at it. “Sure. What do you have in mind?”

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “Strip poker?”

  She flushed a bright red and he laughed.

  “Just kidding,” he said.

  “I wouldn’t play anyway,” she blurted, even though the suggestion had lit a bonfire at her very core. God, with each passing moment she wanted him more, and she was as terrified of that wanting as the creep who was probably hunting her.

  His smile faded. “Shy?”

  She shook her head and looked away. “Too many scars. Ugly scars. I...couldn’t.”

  She didn’t see the change come over him, but knew it had happened when her table was whisked from in front of her.

  “We need to have a talk.”

  “Huh?” She looked up, utterly confused.

  “Well, more than a talk. I already told you I wanted you back in high school. That hasn’t changed at all. I want you even more now. And if you think some lousy scars—”

  He broke off suddenly and tugged her up from her seat. “There’s one thing we can deal with right now. One hang-up we can get rid of. Much as I’d like to, I won’t make love to you unless you want it, but we’re going to get rid of one bogeyman now.”

  She stumbled a little as he tugged her toward the stairs, fear and anticipation warring within her, making her weak, filling her with so much contradiction that she didn’t know what to do. She just felt she shouldn’t do this.

  But he settled the matter, sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her up the stairs, this time to his bedroom. He set her on her feet, then turned on every light and drew the curtains against the night. In the corner stood a full-length mirror.

  “You know what your scars look like, right?”

  She nodded. She’d looked at them often enough, hating them.

  “Well, I don’t. So I’m going to look. And then we’re both goin
g to find out how repulsed I am.”

  “Jake...” Her heart began to hammer wildly. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t.

  “No. This is something we can deal with, and while I don’t know about you, I do know that I have a desperate need to settle something in this mess. This is it.”

  He turned her back to him. “You don’t have to look at me, you don’t have to look in the mirror, but I’m going to look at you, like it or not. Then we’ll both know.”

  She wanted to protest, but the words wouldn’t come. She was certain he wouldn’t get very far, certain that he’d find her so repugnant he’d have to stop. He was right about one thing: it would be settled for both of them. Then maybe she could stop this constant mooning for him.

  She couldn’t believe she was going to allow this. Panic fluttered wildly in her stomach. This was unthinkable.

  But she closed her eyes anyway as she felt him begin to strip away her clothing. She didn’t want to see herself or, worse, the expressions on his face. He was going to be sickened. Absolutely sickened.

  There was something else, too, something she’d never been fully able to explain. She was ashamed of those scars, as if she had somehow inflicted them on herself. They humiliated her.

  Her shirt and bra vanished quickly. Chilly air met her skin, but not too chilly. She didn’t have to open her eyes to know what he saw: the curving cuts on her breasts and abdomen, some inflicted by the creep, some inflicted by the surgeons who’d helped put her back together.

  Then he put her hands on her shoulders so she could steady herself while he tugged away her pants and socks. No secrets left.

  Except behind the closed lids of her eyes rested secrets: secret terrors, secret embarrassment, secret shyness, secret self-loathing. She hid in her own internal darkness.

  “You are beautiful,” he said. There was no hint of uncertainty in his tone.

  She kept her eyes closed. “I’m ugly!” The cry felt as if it was ripped from her very soul.

  “You’re beautiful. Every one of those scars is a badge of strength. Do you ever think of them that way? They show strength and determination. You should be proud.”

  Proud? Proud of what that man had done to her? Proud that she looked like... “Frankenstein’s monster,” she blurted.