by Kylie Brant
Eryn opened her bedroom door and walked toward the living room. Bumps and scraping sounds could be heard. Her feet slowed, and a chill trickled down her spine. Taking refuge against a wall, she sidled along it until she could peek around the corner into the shadows shrouding the room.
It wasn’t dark. Not completely. Two beams of light shone. Then one vanished. Moments later it reappeared. She could hear snippets of words. Eryn moved a bit closer.
“. . . the others.”
“Not yet. Help me get them tied up.”
She blinked uncomprehendingly. For a moment, Eryn felt like she was having an out-of-body experience.
“He’s coming around.”
“Punch him again. No, let me.” She winced at the sound of flesh cracking against flesh. “Fucker’s had that coming for a long time.”
Eryn didn’t wait to hear more. She ran softly back to her bedroom and to the window. Unlocking it, she raised the sash and pushed on the interior hook keeping the old outer window secured. When she had it unlatched, she hurried back to the bed. She softly put her hand over Jaxson’s mouth and shook him awake. His eyelids fluttered, then went wide when he saw her bending over him, a finger to her lips. Her lips close to his ear, she whispered, “We have burglars.” But the nasty tangle of fear in Eryn’s stomach put the lie to her words. Whoever was in the house was far more dangerous. “Listen to me. I’m going to lower you out the window. Understand?” He nodded, his expression frightened. “When you get outside, run to . . .” She stopped herself, comprehension dawning. The deputies should be parked on the road out front. How did the men break in if law enforcement was still outside? Making an instant readjustment, she said urgently, “Don’t go to the boathouse. Don’t run toward the road. Go past the gardens and hide behind the old gazebo.” It was the opposite side of the property from the stable. She couldn’t bring herself to suggest he hide himself in the structure that still haunted her memories. “Got it?” He nodded again. She lost no more time. Picking him up, she carried him to the window and, using her elbow to hold the outer one open, lowered him to the ground. The boy lost no time racing in the direction she’d indicated.
Eryn grabbed her phone and cracked her door open. Mary Jane’s room was closest to the kitchen. The kitchen had weapons, and it was near the back coat closet. The image of the knife block flashed across her mind, followed by a bout of gut-wrenching nausea. But the closet had baseball bats.
She ran lightly down the hallway toward Mary Jane’s room and hid in the closet there behind her clothes. Fear racked Eryn’s frame as her fingers fumbled with her cell. She didn’t dare make a call. But she looked up recent numbers dialed and found the marshal’s. A text message would be safe. Her fingers were trembling as she typed.
intruders broke in home danger help
She silenced her cell so an answering text alert wouldn’t give her away. Cautiously, she left her hiding place and went to the door. Pressed her ear against it.
“They’re not there! The window’s open in the girl’s room. I’m going after them.”
Guilt held Eryn rooted to the spot. She should have stayed with Jaxson. But how likely was it that someone unfamiliar with the property would find him in the dark? She needed to help Uncle Bill and Rosalyn. They had to be the ones the strangers tied up.
A small light winked on her cell, but she didn’t have the time to check for an answering message. She raced down the hall toward the kitchen. If one man had gone out the window, there was at least another left. Unless there was a third she hadn’t heard. Maybe keeping watch outside.
She heard an earsplitting shriek. Rosalyn. The sound resolved something inside Eryn. She stuck her head in the kitchen. Found it empty. For the first time in her life, she wished Henry were still here.
Eryn lingered a moment too long in front of the knife block. Her palms dampened as she reached toward it. When her fingers closed around the hilts of a couple of steak knives, something inside her wanted to weep. She tiptoed to the opposite doorway. To the left was the back entry. Across the hall was the closet, and to the right she could access the living room.
Voices drifted from the room beyond.
“William, William! Are you all right?” Another scream from Rosalyn, followed by a sharp crack.
Sick with fear, Eryn dashed across to the closet.
“Typical woman. He’s half-unconscious and you’re still yapping.” There was the sound of fabric ripping. Rosalyn’s muffled sobs. “He wouldn’t help you if he could. He didn’t have the guts to come after me himself when I put his little sister in the hospital.”
Eryn’s blood turned to ice. Uncle Bill’s little sister. Mama. She clamped her jaw against the mournful wail that threatened. The painting. Violence. Blood. She still couldn’t recall more than glimmers of perceptions. But now she knew the man in the other room had been part of the scene.
“He had to hire a small army to come after me. Right, tough guy?” Sickening thuds sounded. “Fuckers nearly killed me. Bet you thought you’d gotten away with it.”
It took effort to move. To grab a coat and slip it on because she didn’t have pockets in her pajamas. The knives were placed in one. Her cell in the other. Then she went to the equipment box in the closet. Grasped a bat and drew it out. She tiptoed back to the doorway, then remembered to check her cell. There was a return text from the marshal.
On my way. Get out now!
Eryn released a quick shuddering breath and stuffed the phone back in her pocket. That was excellent advice. Because someone needed to check on Jaxson.
But the man who’d hurt her mother all those years ago was only yards away. And Eryn knew she wasn’t going anywhere. She crept out of the closet, her fingers clutching the bat.
“I’m gonna fuck your wife in front of you, Billy. The bastards you sent after me crushed one of my balls. Turns out, everything works just as well with one. Then when I’m done, I’m going to beat you to death before burning the whole damn place down with both of you in it. And then we’ll be even. Somewhere out there Aurora is probably applauding this. I always figured you killed your sister to get the whole inheritance.”
“No, that’s not true!” Rosalyn’s words were a hysterical mixture of screams and sobs. “He never would have! He loved Aurora.”
Eryn inched closer down the hallway. Close enough to glimpse where her uncle and his wife were. To catch sight of a shadowy figure bending over Rosalyn. Then the woman was hauled out of her chair and thrown to the ground.
Eryn was at the wrong angle. She couldn’t see the entire room. Turning, she ran back through the kitchen. Down the hall. She needed to come up behind the man. She’d only get one chance.
I can help, Mama. The thought drifted across her mind like a wisp of fog. This time I can help.
“You don’t know a damn thing about it. Ouch! Bitch!” Eryn peered around the doorway into the living room. Rosalyn had knocked the man off her and had gotten to her feet. He snaked out a hand and caught her ankle, yanking her to the floor with a crash. “That’s gonna cost you.” He flipped her over, his hand gripping her hair. “What do you, say, Billy? I never took no shit from a woman. Maybe a candy ass like you is different.”
“Leave her alone! You’ve got a problem with me. Let everyone else go.” Bill’s voice was weak.
“Best part of this?” The stranger ripped Rosalyn’s nightgown away as she struggled. “Right now my buddy has killed your niece and is feasting on your kid.”
The visceral howls of rage and fear from Bill and Rosalyn echoed inside Eryn. No. Her mind skittered away from believing it. How could this guy know that? Jaxson was safe. He was hiding. She had to believe it.
“What kind of man lets his woman and kid get raped while he just sits there, hm-m?” Eryn took a step into the room. And then another. The stranger was grappling with Rosalyn, who was fighting like a madwoman. She swung wildly. Her fist just grazed the man’s jaw. “The kind that lacks the guts to come after me on his own. Who’s so damn cowardl
y he frames his own niece after he kills her mother for money. Piece of shit.”
“No, he didn’t! He never would! It was an accident! I . . . I just wanted to scare her! She would never have let us be together.” Rosalyn’s shrieked words were intermingled with ragged sobs.
“Rosalyn! No! Please don’t say . . .” The horror in Uncle Bill’s voice echoed in Eryn’s brain. She stilled for a second, her brain grappling with the woman’s meaning. Rosalyn? Wanted to scare . . . Mama? It was all too much to take in, and she could feel a part of her shutting down. Don’t think. Don’t feel. The inner litany battered her insides. There was something . . . urgent. She mentally shook herself. Jaxson. She had to help Uncle Bill and go to Jaxson.
She inched along to hug the wall opposite the side of the room where her uncle was tied up. He didn’t seem to notice her. Maybe he’d escaped to a place deep inside. A place where the horror couldn’t touch him. “I didn’t mean to . . .” Rosalyn’s face was turned toward her husband’s. “Please, William, you must believe me . . .”
“And I’m the one who got locked up for ten years. Jesus, you people deserve everything that happens to you tonight.” The man’s back was to Eryn. She closed the gap, cocking the bat.
The stranger half rose above Rosalyn. Loosened his pants.
Time crawled, like a movie clip in slow motion. As if from a distance, Eryn saw herself swing the bat. The man crumpled on top of Rosalyn, who screamed. A long quavery screech that reverberated in Eryn’s head and scraped ragged nerve endings. The stranger was unmoving. Like a sleepwalker, Eryn ran behind her uncle’s chair and put one of the knives in his fingers.
And then, the bat still in her hand, she raced for the back door.
Jaxson. The jumbled emotions in her head were bumping and colliding too fast for comprehension. She held the thought of her cousin fast. She’d deal with the rest later. Eryn couldn’t handle anything else right now.
She burst out the back door without a shred of caution, running toward the gazebo. The boy had to be there. He had to. Eryn raced through the gardens, not registering the icy chill beneath her bare feet or the stab of shorn stalks. She ran toward the toolshed just past the garden.
And then something grabbed her foot and pulled. The bat fell out of her hand as her body crashed to the ground.
“Eryn!” A slurred hiss. She felt herself being dragged, but she couldn’t draw a breath. Couldn’t breathe. Lights were flickering behind her eyes, bells clanging in her head. She was suffocating. Gasping for air.
It was a long minute before oxygen refilled her lungs. When it did—when she was able to haul in a breath—her mind began to clear. The shadow next to her took shape. Recognition filled her. “Henry.” She struggled to her feet. “What are you doing out here?”
Then a sneaky sliver of suspicion struck, and she backed away. “Have you seen Jaxson?”
“He’s got him.” Henry was leaning heavily against the side of the shed. At first Eryn thought he was wounded. A moment later she realized he was drunk. Disgust surged.
“Where are they?” When he didn’t answer, she reached out and shook him. She followed the direction he pointed with her gaze, and her heart dropped.
The stable.
Cold. Dark. Smelly. Clawing fear smashed into her at the thought of following Jaxson and the second man into the structure. She should wait. The marshal had said so.
But what would happen to the boy in the meantime?
“It’s too late,” Henry mumbled. “I saw ’em when I was outside having a cig. They sprinkled the perimeter of the house with gasoline before they went in. Didn’t you smell it? Dropped my phone. Can’t find my phone.”
“C’mon!” She stood and pulled at him. “I hit the man inside. He might be dead. You have to help me find Jaxson.”
He stumbled to his feet. Swayed. “The guy who took him could have a gun. What are we supposed to do then, huh? They musta killed the cops who were out front. If they can kill them, what chance do we stand? Wait.”
“I need your help.” Desperation had her yanking harder at his arm. “Two of us might be able to stop him from hurting Jaxson.”
He lost his balance and went to one knee. “Think.” Henry clutched a handful of her jacket. “There’s nothing we can do. No one would expect . . .” His next words were almost too low to make out. “We’d be the heirs, you and me. Everyone else would be gone.”
She wasted precious moments staring at her cousin in horror. Then she wrenched her jacket from his clutching fingers and fell to her knees, searching the grass until her fingers closed around the bat. She rose and began to sprint.
The distance to the other structure had always seemed vast, but now it was closing much too rapidly. Two invisible forces warred inside her. One, a terrible sense of urgency, impelled by fear for her younger cousin. The other, a sense of dread, hauling her back, constraining her with a terror rooted in her past.
When she stopped outside the structure, her lungs were heaving. One of the big double doors yawned open. Eryn stared at the funnel of darkness before her and took an unconscious step back. Evil lay within. Her certainty came from a visceral place deep inside her. The bat slipped in her damp grip. She wiped one palm on her pajamas and then another. Shudders racked her body. Eryn’s brain ordered her limbs to move. They didn’t obey.
Casting a wild glance over her shoulder, she searched the darkness for Henry. Had he followed her? But the tenuous hope was dashed. There was no approaching figure. Lights flickered outside the house. No, not lights. Flames.
Panicked, Eryn looked frantically from the house to the stable. Where was the marshal? How much longer before she arrived?
Nearby, screams sounded, each tearing through her like jagged shards of glass. One after another. Desperate and terrified. Jaxson. They released her from the paralyzing fear rooting her in place. With trembling fingers, she turned on the cell’s flashlight app and plunged into the shadowy structure.
So dark. Cold. Her body quaked as she tiptoed through the building, following the sound of the shrieks. They didn’t come from the stalls. Eryn already knew where they emanated from. Her veins turned to ice. A desperate shred of self-preservation careened through her mind. No farther, no farther. But her feet continued to move forward even as everything inside Eryn wanted to flee.
She crept toward the small room in the back corner of the building. Holding the bat behind her, she reached out a hand and pushed the door open. The thin beam of her cell landed on the two people inside the room. Jaxson was struggling, his cries sounding harsh and guttural. But it was the man holding him fast that drew her attention.
As if feeling her eyes on him, the intruder shifted his attention to her. He smiled a hideous smile. “Hello, Eryn. I hoped we’d meet again.”
It was like stepping off a cliff. Arms wheeling, desperate to stop the fall. Eryn felt herself descending into the vortex of a nightmare. But her voice sounded calm to her ears when she spoke.
“Hello, Uncle Arlo.”
Ryder
“We’ve got two teams dispatched to Tennessee. The tips came from here. Here. And here.” Ryder tapped the red pushpins in the large map covering a bulletin board they’d erected in the command center. “There’s another crew surveilling Sutton’s Cherokee motel. Yet another staking out the area surrounding the cabin rental in Bryson City.” He faced the team members working the third shift of the investigation. “You’ve read today’s updates. Questions?”
“How reliable are those tips coming from out of state?” The voice came from the back of the room. Greg Jensen, Swain County Sheriff. “I hate thinking we’re putting so much manpower in one place if it’s a wild-goose chase.”
“The callers claimed to have sighted either the truck or one of the men riding in it in three different locations within twenty miles. The timeline works. Law enforcement there have questioned the people who called in. They deemed them credible enough for us to check out. But our people have found no sign of Aldeen at any of
the areas yet.” Jensen’s question touched a chord in Ryder. There had been robust discussion yesterday on how much personnel to dedicate to the tips. It left them shorthanded here, but leading by committee was a lesson in compromise.
“Any other questions?” He patiently answered the ones called out, then pointed at the whiteboard on the wall. “Your shift duties are listed on the board.” His cell buzzed. Withdrawing it from his pocket, he glanced at the screen. Cady Maddix.
“Jerry.” He jerked his head toward the team members milling around the duty list, and his chief deputy nodded. He’d facilitate if necessary. Ryder walked to the corner of the room. “Cady. What’s up?” She’d taken a shift on the surveillance of Sutton’s motel in Cherokee, he recalled. But someone should have relieved her by now.
“Break-in in progress at the Pullman place. Got a text from Eryn just as I was getting home. I’m not sure exactly what’s going on. I’m on my way. I don’t know what to expect when I get there, but send backup.”
“I’ve got . . .” Comprehension slammed into him. He waved over Cal Patterson and told him, “Radio Fitzpatrick and Cahalan. Get an update.” To Cady he said, “I’ve had pairs of deputies stationed in front of the estate round-the-clock since we discovered Aldeen had Eryn Pullman’s audio files on his MP3 player.” Their reports had been uneventful. A sense of foreboding lodged in his chest. “I’m on my way with a team.”
“Oh, and Ryder?” The urgency in Cady’s tone stopped him in the act of disconnecting. “Last night I discovered that one of Sutton’s assault charges stemmed from an attack on Aurora Pullman seventeen years ago.”
The news hit him with the force of a vicious left jab. “Got it.” It all made a terrible sort of sense now. He hung up and strode over to FBI Special Agent Tolliver, briefly outlining the call.
