by Kylie Brant
He carried a mug of coffee brewed in the small kitchen tucked in one corner of the structure. Sipping from it now, he leaned a shoulder against one of the timbers used as porch posts. It was chilly outside without a jacket, but he didn’t mind. He could go in and fetch one. He could go for a hike in the surrounding woods. Although Samuel had never considered himself much of an outdoorsman, the isolation added to his newfound sense of liberation.
His mind felt the clearest it had in years. He’d perfected a way to dispense with the mandatory meds in Fristol, but his method hadn’t been foolproof. The enemy had watched him so closely. They knew the medication weakened his ability to see through their disguises and ward them off effectively.
He brought the mug to his lips and sipped, then froze. The breeze carried a distant noise on its wings. Lyrical and sweet. He strained to hear it more clearly. And when he did, a warm flush crawled through his body.
Children nearby. Laughing.
There was no more precious sound in the world than that of children at play. The music of their laughter warmed something inside him that had been forced into dormancy for too long. A long-suppressed hunger stirred. Wouldn’t be denied.
He abruptly turned and reentered the cabin, setting down his mug and grabbing the lightweight jacket from a peg inside the door. Then he exited again and started walking in the direction of those sounds.
Cady
Cady’s cell rang as they were approaching the Asheville city limits. Seeing Ryder’s number on the screen, she answered with a slight frown. “I’m beginning to think I have a stalker,” she joked. Miguel sent her a quizzical look from the passenger seat.
“Where are you?” he asked without preamble.
“About fifteen minutes from the office. We’re stopping in there briefly before heading to Mecklenburg.” They needed to make a courtesy contact to the Charlotte USMS office to let them know she and Miguel had a case in the area. Or better yet, they could talk Allen Gant into making it for them.
“We just ID’d the patient on Aldeen’s audio files,” Ryder said tersely. “Eryn Pullman, recently released from the Rolling Acres Resort, where she’d been treated since she killed her mother at age nine.”
Cady’s fingers clenched once on the steering wheel, a single involuntary response. “How old is she now?”
“Twenty-one. Her home is close to the eastern Haywood County border.” He rattled off the address. “I’ll be sending some men to search the property. It’s several hundred acres. But I’m just walking into the task force meeting and can’t get there myself right now.”
“Sounds like we’re close enough to swing by,” she said immediately, noticing Miguel’s what-the-hell gesture. “Any known connection between Aldeen and Pullman?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
She nodded, wincing a little as Miguel reached forward to turn up the temperature in the vehicle. “We’ll find out.”
“I appreciate it. She lives with her uncle and his family. I’ll call William Pullman and let him know you’ll be coming by and why.”
When the call ended, Cady filled in Miguel about the conversation. He immediately straightened in his seat. “How does Talbot think the fugitive and this girl are linked?”
“He doesn’t know. That’s what we’re going to find out.” Julie Preston Neve could wait another couple of hours. Cady swung onto the exit that would take them west. Toward the young woman who might be their strongest connection yet to Aldeen.
And one whose past had more than a little in common with Cady’s.
They turned through the open wrought-iron gates of the Pullman Estate and continued up the drive. It was several more minutes before the home came into view. Miguel craned his neck to look out the window. “Not exactly the Biltmore, but not too shabby. I think my entire house would fit inside the garage.”
Silently Cady agreed. The place was massive. According to Ryder, the property was comprised of several hundred acres. Was money the reason Aldeen was interested in Eryn Pullman? Kidnap and ransom would be powerful motivators to those with a criminal bent. She said as much to Miguel as she slowed to a stop in front of the house.
“Kidnapping is in his history,” the man agreed. “Ransom isn’t. Neither is an interest in victims over the age of eight.”
“Well, Joe Bush might be Aldeen’s first adult homicide victim,” she responded as she parked and grabbed the case file off the console. They got out of the car and headed toward the home’s entrance. “He appears to be broadening his horizons.”
The front door opened, framing an unsmiling middle-aged man who watched their approach. “Mr. Pullman?” Cady walked up the tiled steps and stretched out her hand. “Cady Maddix and Miguel Rodriguez. Deputy US Marshals. I believe Sheriff Talbot called to let you know we were coming.”
His handshake was unenthusiastic. “He did. I still can’t wrap my head around his news. I have no idea how a depraved criminal could be in possession of my niece’s therapy notes. But I can assure you we have nothing to add to your investigation.”
“Do you mind if we come in, sir, and discuss this a little further?” Miguel’s smile had noticeably less effect on Pullman than it had had on Selma Lewis’s neighbor yesterday. The man seemed to be weighing his options. After a moment, however, he stepped aside and waved them in.
“We won’t take up much of your time,” Cady promised, surveying her surroundings as she trailed behind him. The sprawling estate was easily ten thousand square feet, with passages spoking off from the main hallway to parts unknown. The hall they were in could pass for a room itself, with carved tables and pairs of chairs dotting the area. Gilt-framed, dark oil paintings punctuated the walls. The overall impression was not so much antique as dated.
That perception wasn’t altered when she entered a room adorned with heads of animals and trophy-size fish. She took a brief moment to wonder whether Pullman ever got the creeps from all those vacant glass eyes looking down on him. When he motioned them to chairs in front of his desk, she was hard-pressed not to look up at the row of sentries above.
Rather than sitting down, Cady opened the file and selected two photos, stepping forward to set them on the desk Pullman had seated himself behind. “Samuel Aldeen and Sheila Preston. Do you recognize either of these people?”
William Pullman studied them in turn. With a note of relief in his voice, he said, “No. I’ve never seen either of them before. I assume the male is the man Sheriff Talbot called about.”
“Yes,” Cady affirmed. “Preston is wanted in connection with Aldeen’s escape.”
William’s gaze met hers. “She assisted in it?”
“We believe so, yes.”
Collecting the two pictures, William handed them back to her. “I’d never heard of either of them before Sheriff Talbot called earlier. Well . . . ,” he corrected himself as Cady took the images and sat in a chair next to Miguel, “he only mentioned Aldeen. Of course I’ve heard the news reports since his escape. But I can honestly say there is nothing connecting either of these people to my family.”
“Except for your niece’s progress notes being in an audio file on Aldeen’s MP3 player,” Miguel put in.
“I can’t begin to predict how the man’s mind works, but given the man’s perverted proclivities, I’m sure any child would do.”
Cady inclined her head. “That’s possible. Obviously someone stole the computer files for him and made copies, adding text-to-speech. But we can’t overlook the possibility that Eryn was selected specifically. Maybe she would have an idea why. May we speak to her?”
“No,” he stated baldly. “You may not. She’s had a traumatic day. We all have. A group has been harassing us since Eryn got home. Today they burned an effigy in her likeness across the road. Sheriff Talbot can give you the details. I assume you’ve heard about the tragedy here over eleven years ago.” He barely waited for Cady’s nod before going on. “She was nine when she was court-ordered to a forensic psychiatric facility, and she�
�s recently returned home. The only people she met were employees and patients there.”
“I’m sure they had outings,” Miguel said patiently. “Or perhaps when she was a child . . .”
A young woman appeared in the doorway. “Uncle Bill, Rosalyn asked me to bring you your . . .” Her voice trailed off as her gaze skated from Cady to Miguel. “I didn’t know you had guests.”
This had to be Eryn Pullman. Unconsciously, Cady rose and took a step toward the young woman. With long blonde hair and a slender figure, she had an ethereal air about her. For the first time, she gave credence to William’s protectiveness. Maybe the girl was too mentally fragile to speak with them.
“Are you with the fire department?” Eryn asked curiously as she crossed to hand her uncle his phone.
“No. Eryn, these are deputy US marshals.” There was a note of resignation in William Pullman’s voice as he slipped his cell into his pocket.
“I’m Cady and this is Miguel. We came to ask your uncle—and you—a few questions.” Cady went to her chair and picked up the file folder she’d brought in. When she glanced at William, he definitely didn’t look happy, but he didn’t object. Reaching inside the folder, she brought out the same two photos she’d shown William earlier and crossed over to show them to Eryn. The young woman took each of them out of Cady’s hands and studied them intently before looking up at Eryn again.
“Who are they?”
A band of disappointment tightened in Cady’s belly. “Samuel Aldeen and Sheila Preston.” There was no answering recognition on Eryn’s face when she handed the pictures back to Cady.
“Why did you want to talk to us about them?”
“Aldeen escaped from custody a few days ago.” Cady chose her words carefully. “Preston helped him. He had copies of your progress notes on an audio file. We’re trying to figure out why.”
The young woman looked more puzzled than shocked at the revelation. “I can’t imagine why anyone would want them.” Her tone went wry. “Believe me, the sessions were boring enough to take part in. Even I wouldn’t listen to those recordings.”
A measure of tension seeped from Cady’s muscles. The girl didn’t seem as fragile as she’d first appeared. “Maybe he’s someone from your childhood. A family friend, perhaps.”
Eryn looked doubtful. “I don’t know. I was born in Charlotte, but Mama and I moved here when I was about three. And I don’t ever remember her bringing anyone to the house. She always went to the city to meet friends.”
Feeling a bit deflated, Cady managed a smile. “What was your mother’s name?”
“Aurora Pullman.” The note of finality in William’s voice said better than words that the discussion was at an end.
“Thank you both for speaking with us.” She glanced back at William. “I’m sure Sheriff Talbot discussed his security plans with you?”
“Yes.” The brevity of the man’s answer left her with no doubt he didn’t want to discuss it any further in front of his niece.
When Miguel rose, the two of them left the room. Cady was surprised when Eryn accompanied them to the door.
“This is a huge home,” Cady remarked as they retraced their steps down the long, dimly lit hallway. “Do you ever get lost in it?”
“I’ve never been in most of it,” the young woman surprised her by saying. “There’s an entire wing not in use anymore. And the farthest I ever went outside was the gazebo, the gardens, and the pond. And the stables, but once was enough. My cousin traumatized me when I was a kid by locking me in a small room in the back. I’m not a fan of small, damp, enclosed places.”
Her words had Cady’s steps faltering. I reckon you’ll lose some of that sass after a little time alone. The sound of her grandfather’s tread on the stairs. The slam of the door. The shooting of the lock. And the darkness enclosing her like a gritty, frigid fist . . .
“. . . suppose I should be embarrassed to admit that now that I’m grown.”
“Not at all.” Cady shook off the memory and looked the younger woman in the eye. “I feel exactly the same way.”
“Eryn said she was born in Charlotte.” Miguel broke the long silence that had stretched between them for the last hour of their drive to Mecklenburg. “Where was the restaurant Aldeen supposedly worked at with Preston?”
“Charlotte,” Cady responded. She should have been thinking about Eryn Pullman’s connection to Samuel Aldeen as well. But her thoughts kept returning to the odd parallels between the young woman’s past and her own. Both of them had killed a parent. A hideous, tragic event in anyone’s past. Each had grown up without loved ones near. Eryn had been locked away in a mental health facility. Cady had been imprisoned with a bitter old man.
“So maybe the connection is really between Aldeen and Eryn’s mother.”
Cady nodded. Miguel was right. “We need to dig further into Aurora Pullman’s past. But first . . .” She slowed to a stop in front of Julie Preston Neve’s home. The neighborhood was several income levels above her sister’s. Cady surveyed the house as she and Miguel exited the vehicle. Large lawn, four-stall garage. The dwelling would swallow up three of Sheila’s with room to spare.
There were no signs of life around the place as they walked up a bricked path to the front porch, past a discreet sign warning guests the house was protected by a security company.
The sign was an unwelcome reminder of last night. “What do you think a security system costs?” She’d never had reason to buy one before. Her home in Saint Louis had already had one installed when she bought it. Cady had done a little research before leaving for work this morning, but the sites she’d looked at required phone calls and visits for quotes.
“Installed? Several hundred dollars, I’d guess.”
Her partner pressed the doorbell. Melodic notes sounded in the home. “They have ones now with a video option. It automatically calls you if there’s a disturbance.”
Video. She mulled the idea over as they waited. Maybe she could rig up something above the window the intruder had used at her house. At least she could capture an image if the bastard came back. But the price Miguel had quoted had her balking at installing a complete system. It seemed a waste for a rental and enough of an expense to strain her budget at the moment. She had the monthly payment on her house in Saint Louis that still hadn’t sold, as well as the stipend she was paying Alma for groceries.
“Of course, you could go the simpler route and do what I did.” Miguel reached out a hand to ring the bell again. “Get a dog.”
The thought wouldn’t have occurred to her. She knew nothing about caring for a pet. She worked long hours. It didn’t seem fair to have an animal around.
But it appeared her options were limited.
A slight noise sounded. Cady cocked her head, looked at her partner. She could tell from his expression he’d heard it too. Not of approaching footsteps. But perhaps the scrape of a shoe on the other side of the door.
“Ms. Neve,” she called. “We’re from the Marshals Service. It’s critical we speak with you about your sister.”
The ensuing silence held a hint of eeriness. Cady couldn’t shake the feeling they were being watched. Looking around, she spotted a small camera discreetly located above the door. She pointed it out for her partner while she said, “She may be in danger, ma’am.”
Miguel shifted subtly so that he was positioned more fully in front of the camera. “Ms. Neve, you wouldn’t want it on your conscience if something happened to Sheila and you didn’t try to help her. We’re not going anywhere. If you don’t talk to us now, we’ll be waiting at the curb for your husband to come home in a few hours. I imagine you want to handle this discreetly.”
Maybe it was fear of the neighbors observing them. Perhaps they’d struck a nerve in the woman. More likely it had been the mask of sincerity stamped on Rodriguez’s too-handsome face. Whatever the cause, a moment later the heavy cherry door swung inward and an expensively coifed and clothed woman in her midforties stood before them
.
“I have nothing to say to you.” Her fingers clutched the necklace she wore and twisted it, an outward sign of distress at odds with the dispassionate mask on her face. “You need to leave. You’re causing a disturbance.”
“We have a warrant for Sheila’s arrest, and you’re aiding and abetting her.” Cady’s voice wasn’t without sympathy. If she had a sibling, she’d probably go to similar lengths to help. “Your sister could be in grave danger right now. The longer you keep her from us, the greater the chance the wrong person is going to get to her first.” It might have been an overstatement. They had no specific knowledge Aldeen would go after Sheila Preston. But one accessory to the fugitive’s escape was already dead. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility Preston could be next.
“Aunt Julie! Aunt Julie!” The childish voices sounded in unison. Small running feet could be heard in the tiled hallway. “Sydney cheated! Come and see! She moved your piece and . . .”
Julie Neve turned her head to address the kids—two girls, Cady saw now—and when she did her voice was bright with false cheer. “Sydney! Am I going to have to get the tickle monster after you? Go on, back to the game and I’ll get some cookies for all of us.”
“Yay!” As quickly as the duo had approached, they vanished. Julie watched them go and then faced Cady and Miguel, opening the outer glass door and stepping out onto the porch.
“Sheila’s terrified.” The woman’s voice was low, her words coming quickly. “She showed up on my doorstep three days ago with Sydney and Selah in tow. I don’t know what she’s gotten herself into, but she’s frightened someone is going to hurt the kids. She was paranoid, thinking she was being watched. She dropped the girls off—I didn’t have much choice but to take them. I’ve never seen her so scared.”
“Where did she go?”
