Saturday, 12:25 p.m.
“Do you feel better now, dearest?”
Vonnie didn’t answer right away, not wanting him to realize how alert and aware she was of what was going on around her. After having left her alone since last night, the monster had returned an hour ago—she’d heard a car pull up outside. Now that he wasn’t drugging her, she was much more aware of what was going on, and was able to prepare herself for his arrival.
He’d come in, offering her another energy drink through a straw. Then, apparently convinced by her apathy and listlessness that she wasn’t much of a threat, he’d cut the tape away from her entire mouth, ripping it off her cheeks. Judging by the pain, he’d taken some skin along with it. But she hadn’t cared. She could breathe—really breathe—at last. The air was dank and stale, reeking, but she drew in deep mouthfuls of it, absolutely delighted, though careful not to show just how panicked the taped mouth had made her. Because then he’d just put it back on.
“Ahh, feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked, a smile in his high-pitched voice to match the one on his awful, cheerful king mask.
“Yeah, thanks,” she muttered, knowing he expected gratitude.
He patted her head, like she was some kind of dog. “You should have told me yesterday was your birthday,” he said, reproaching her. “I might have taken it off then, as a special gift from me to you.”
Her birthday. Her last one, she had no doubt.
He reached for a bowl of water and a rag and began wiping the blood off her cheeks. Working carefully, he acted like he actually gave a damn whether he hurt her or not, which was funny since he’d caused every one of her injuries.
“Poor little girl,” he cooed.
The man was insane. One minute murderous, the next nurturing. But always underneath the surface was utter insanity.
His mood seemed good—as good as a psychotic killer’s mood could be, she supposed. Since his return, he’d been chuckling and muttering about how grand a time he’d had at the football game. How much fun it had been, how entertaining. And how much she’d been missed.
Yeah, sure. Her own mother probably wouldn’t notice she was gone until the first of the month when she came scratching for Vonnie’s paycheck so she could pay the rent.
She couldn’t contain the bitterness, thinking that her eighteenth birthday had arrived, and she wouldn’t be able to finally flip her mother the finger and move into a place of her own.
“I think I’ll sit with you awhile,” he said once he’d finished cleaning the blood off her cheeks. “If you’re good, I might let you get up and use the potty. You must really need it.”
If she had anything left in her that could feel embarrassment, maybe she would have, since he knew she’d been chained flat on her back for days and was just taunting her. Funny, though, embarrassment was long gone. Survival was the only thing that remained.
She didn’t reveal those thoughts. The fact that he wasn’t leaving the small cell right away didn’t terrify her, it gave her hope. Having had a couple of days to heal, to clear her mind, Vonnie knew the only way to escape death was to trick him into making some kind of mistake.
If he unchained her so she could use the makeshift toilet, maybe she could find some kind of a weapon. He couldn’t do that from the other side of the door. And he wouldn’t do it if he thought she didn’t appreciate it, so she mustered up a weak smile and whispered, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now, shall we talk a little?”
She tensed. Since figuring out what he’d meant about her “pleasing” him, she hadn’t been sure if she should let him know she remembered. Would that heighten his concerns, make him worry she might be able to identify him later? Hell, maybe if he pulled down his pants she’d have a clue. Then again, one disgusting prick looked like any other. On the night he’d been referring to, she’d been forced to endure the sight of a whole lot of them. Just like now, the faces of the monsters had been hidden; the vile men had worn black hoods. And nothing else.
“Have you ever heard of Snow White and Rose Red?”
She almost sighed in relief. Fairy tales. Okay, she could deal with his damned fairy tales. He could invent a story about Santa Claus cannibalizing his elves and it would be a whole lot better than thinking about that other night—the night she’d become a member of the club.
“Well, have you heard about those evil girls, Vonnie?”
Hearing the tone that said he was growing irritated, she cleared her throat. “No.”
He tsked. “Well, it’s not as popular a story as some. Though I’ve always liked it.”
Probably because he was about to tell her his version of the tale, in which two girls got gang raped and gutted at a biker bar.
“My mother used to read it to me sometimes when I was lying right there in that spot and my stepfather was raping me. Oh, she did like to read bedtime stories.”
Vonnie hated this man. She loathed him with every fiber of her being. But something inside her twisted a little, a purely instinctive, human reaction to whatever must have happened to him as a boy to turn him into the adult monster he had become.
“Do you know what made me think of it?”
“What?”
His dark brown eyes sparkled behind the mask and she had the feeling if he removed it, she’d see a smile as wide as the phony plastic one. “I’m going to have my own version of it!” He clapped his hands together. “Right here in my secret hideaway. My own Rose Red”—he playfully pointed a finger at her—“and a Snow White who will be joining us very shortly.”
Oh God. She didn’t have to think about it, she knew exactly what he meant. He was going to kidnap another girl, bring somebody else into the pit with her. She gagged, unable to help it, and almost lost the liquid she’d been so happy to get a short time ago.
“You’re going to have company, sweetie.” He rose from the chair, folding it and putting it against the wall. “I’ve never had two guests at once, so it might take a little getting used to for all of us. We’ll have to muddle through together.”
Vonnie couldn’t deny it—part of her felt a sudden rush of relief that soon she would no longer be alone in this awful nightmare. She’d have an ally. But a much bigger part wanted to scream in terror, to beg that unknown, faceless girl to run and hide while she still could.
“Won’t that be fun?”
Hot tears rose in her eyes. Though she blinked rapidly, she couldn’t stop them. They slid from the corners and streamed down her cheeks, wetting the rough pillow on which she lay.
“Oh, dear!” he said, rushing back over. “You’re crying. What is it?”
Vonnie shook her head, asking him questions she hadn’t asked for several days. “Why? Why are you doing this? Why me? Why her?”
He stood above her, motionless, and she almost bit her tongue for speaking so coherently. Vonnie held her breath, counting the seconds, wondering if he was going to storm out and return with handfuls of white capsules, blue tablets, and little yellow pills. All of which would land in her empty stomach and send her flying, rendering her as useless as a butterfly riding a breeze.
Finally, he shrugged. “That’s easy to explain.”
She didn’t ask him to, wasn’t about to remind him that she could follow a conversation.
“I took you because of a little party you attended a couple of years ago.”
The club.
Confirmation, though she hadn’t really needed it. She’d known. Last night, after the possibility had occurred to her, she’d begun to think about the other girls who’d gone missing over the past few years. She didn’t know them all, but she’d known a few.
They’d been guests of the club, too. That was the connection.
Most girls brought to “entertain” there did it for the money. They knew what they were doing. Maybe they didn’t quite realize how bad it was going to get, or how many men would be attending, but they knew. Most of them were prepared.
Vonnie hadn’t known, and she hadn’t been prepared.
She tried to get the thoughts to leave her mind. Both of that long, ugly night, and of the harsh sense of betrayal that had changed her forever. Before then, she’d known her mom was unreliable and weak, but she’d always believed the woman’s “I love you’s,” and her “I’d change, baby, it’s just I need the stuff,” protestations.
After that, she had never believed another word that came out of Berna Jackson’s mouth. She’d grown up overnight, lost any sense of the girl she’d once been after the brutal trick that had been played on her. She supposed that’s what she got for trusting someone so twisted. But God, what fifteen-year-old girl would suspect her own mother of selling her into a nightmare?
“Ah,” her attacker said, sounding almost sympathetic, “I see you’ve put it together.”
She swallowed, then slowly nodded. Forcing the flood of images away, knowing she didn’t have the time or the emotional strength to deal with them now, she asked, “Is that the only reason?” He’d chosen her to be his victim because she’d once been a victim of others?
“Isn’t it a good enough one? The members of that club have been very nervous lately, which makes me happy. They did something bad to someone I cared about. I’m punishing them.”
He cared about someone? Seemed impossible to believe. “So why not kidnap and murder them?” she spat, unable to help it.
He chuckled. “I considered it, believe me. But I do like girls ever so much more than men. And, as you should have realized by now, sometimes the psychological torment of not knowing what is going to happen—or when—is more frightening than anything else.”
He was right about that. Wasn’t that why he’d been playing this game with her?
“Do you know that club has been active here in Granville for over a hundred years?”
She shook her head, a little surprised but mostly not. Evil seemed to thrive in some places and the weird old house where she’d been taken that night had throbbed with it.
“My stepfather was a member.”
“Is he one of the ones you want to torment?”
He laughed behind the mask. “Oh, no, he’s dead. Jed sent him straight to hell years ago. Right around the time I sent my mother there.”
Jed. She focused on the name, thinking frantically, wondering if she’d heard it before. Some clue to who he was could help her in this psychological battle.
She’d taken psychology in school and her first thought was to wonder if there really was a Jed. If her tormentor had been that badly abused as a child, maybe this Jed didn’t even exist—maybe he never had. Abuse had certainly caused split-personality disorder in some cases.
“There is one other reason I chose you. I suspected your disappearance would get attention, which it did. I’m taking her for the same reason—attention. She’ll get even more of it. Granville is about to tear itself apart in utter terror.” The man casually reached down and fluffed the nearly flat pillow beneath her head, carelessly adding, “But I’m also taking her because she might have seen me when I followed you as you left school Monday night.”
As she’d left the school . . . meaning, several blocks before she’d reached the Boro where he’d grabbed her. The man had stalked her a long way.
The rest of what he’d said sunk in. A girl who might have seen him as she’d left the nearly deserted school? There weren’t many possibilities about who that could be. He wasn’t talking about some random girl. He meant one of her classmates, someone who’d been with her at the meeting last Monday. Maybe one of her new friends.
“Please don’t,” she whispered.
A sly chuckle emerged from his mouth and she realized she’d been a fool to act like she might be worried about this other unnamed girl. Thinking quickly, she added, “Don’t bother on my account. I mean. If she saw you, you’d know by now, right?”
His noncommittal shrug said she hadn’t mollified him.
“And I kinda like it as it is. I never had anybody give me as much attention as you do.”
Clapping his hands together in delight, he chortled, “Oh, you’re jealous! Isn’t that just the cutest thing?”
No, actually, the cutest thing she could think of would be looking up and seeing a sharp spike being plunged into his eyeball. But she merely forced a tiny smile.
He bent down and patted her hip. Vonnie tensed, even though, so far, he’d limited his abuse to beating her, not raping her. If he’d once been a member of that club, however, she knew it would probably be only a matter of time. She had no idea what he was waiting for.
Don’t question it; just be thankful.
“Well, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, sweet one. I doubt she will be here for long. I suspect she’s not going to be quite as adept at entertaining me as you have been.”
She stared up at him, not asking what he meant. She already knew.
Because he was twisted and because he liked her terrified, he explained, anyway.
“So I’ll probably have to kill her much sooner than I’m going to kill you.”
Saturday, 3:15 p.m.
The paramedics who had responded to Julia’s 911 call took Lexie to the small local hospital to be checked out. She had tried to refuse, but Aidan had overridden her protests. Her throat was bruised and swollen, her back scraped and abraded from rubbing against the brick wall. No way was he letting her just leave the scene, despite this “new information” she’d discovered, not until he was sure her windpipe hadn’t been seriously damaged.
He’d wanted to ride with her in the ambulance, but had instead remained behind to talk to the two cops who’d responded to the 911 call. Lexie’s attacker was well known to them, and was taken off in handcuffs. They would go by the hospital to take Lexie’s statement later.
That was how it should have gone, anyway. But when he got to the hospital a short time later, having driven over in the rental car she’d asked him to retrieve, he realized things hadn’t gone as planned. Because as he reached the curtained area in the emergency room, where he’d been directed by a nurse, he heard the irritated voice of someone who had to be Chief Dunston.
“Just can’t keep your nose out of trouble, can you?”
Shaking with anger, Aidan grabbed the curtain and flung it aside. “What’s going on?”
The police chief spun around, startled and more than a bit irritated. “Who are you?”
“I’m the man who found this woman being attacked and nearly killed on a public street in your supposedly safe town,” Seeing Lexie’s pale face, he put a hand over hers. “You okay?”
She nodded, squeezing his fingers. “The doctor says I’ll be all right. I’ll just have this super-sexy voice thing going on for a while.”
It was super-sexy. It also sounded super-painful.
And he really wanted to hurt someone super-bad for that.
The chief was the closest target. Aidan whirled around to face the man, and jabbed an index finger toward him. “Instead of berating the victims of crime, or just ignoring their existence altogether like you have all the girls who’ve gone missing, why don’t you try doing the job you’re being paid to do for once?”
Dunston stuck out a belligerent jaw. “You can’t talk to me like that. I want your name.”
“You can have it,” he snapped, “and you can have the name of my attorney as well. I’m quite sure he would be happy to represent Ms. Nolan should she decide to pursue a complaint of harassment and negligence against you and your whole department.”
“It’s not negligence that she gets herself attacked while consorting with criminals!”
Aidan’s jaw clenched so tight he thought he might crack a tooth. “Again, I remind you, a public street. Broad daylight. Your supposedly ‘peaceful’ town. Several witnesses who saw her nearly strangled to death. How do you think accusing the victim will play on CNN?”
Steam almost flew out of the man’s ears. But like all bullies, the idea of being made to look like a fool on a massive scale was too much for him to bear. Casting one final frustrated stare at Lexie, he said, “You’ll be hearing from one of my officers. Don’t leave town.”
She managed a cheeky smile. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The chief spun around, his footsteps so hard, they heard him throughout his entire march across the ER. Once the sound had died out, Aidan released his tight grip on Lexie’s hand, but didn’t let go entirely. “I’m sorry I didn’t show up sooner.”
“It’s all right. He was only here a couple of minutes.” She moved her brows up and down. “I notice you never did give him your name.”
“No, I guess I didn’t. Forgot all about it.”
Snickering, she swung her legs over the side of the thin gurney-type ER-room bed and rose to her feet. That was when he realized she was fully dressed, ready to go. She scooped some medical papers and said, “Let’s roll.”
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“Clean bill of health, I swear.” She raised two fingers in a Scout’s promise. “The doctor already cleared me. I was just waiting for you to pick me up.”
“Don’t they have to wheel you out?”
But he was talking to air. Lexie had left the examination room, heading toward the exit. Sighing, glad the incident in the alley hadn’t robbed her of her independent streak, but also wishing she’d let somebody take care of her for a while, he strode after her.
He flinched when he saw the rips on the back of her shirt—and the white bandages underneath. Damn that man.
“Would you hold on?” he asked, reaching out and putting a hand on her shoulder. He did it carefully, not knowing where else bruises might be hiding on her body. “Where are we going?”
“I was talking to Walter on the phone,” she told him. “Right before Dunston showed up.”
He rolled his eyes. “Ignoring that whole no-cell-phones-in-the-hospital rule, are we?”
“No, Mr. Smarty-Psychic, I used the one in the room.” Looking a little sheepish, she admitted, “I can’t find mine. I think I dropped it in the alley.”
“How did Walter react to what happened?”
She nibbled the corner of her lip, not quite meeting his eye, which was when he knew she hadn’t told him. She’d called the man she considered her closest friend from a hospital bed, and hadn’t mentioned she’d nearly been murdered.
Then he thought about that friend, what he’d been going through, and admitted, “I guess he wouldn’t have handled it very well. And there’s nothing he could have done.”
Lexie’s mouth fell open, as if she’d expected him to criticize her decision. In truth, though, he understood it and probably would have done the same in her situation. It sounded like this editor of hers was a good man, with a lot of problems. Why worry him?
“Thanks for understanding.”
“So why’d you call him?”
She glanced around. Nodding toward the exit, she said, “Why don’t we talk in the car?”
He took her arm—funny, how easy it was to touch her now—and led her out the doors of the medicinal-smelling hospital into the bright sunshine. It was one of those beautiful Georgia fall days, clear and warm, the air free of the haze that hung around during the long, hot summers. Lexie’s smile seemed more relaxed, as if just the change in scenery was helping her to recover.
“Wait here and let me pull up, okay? The car’s right over there.”
“Look, I’m fine, Aidan.”
He’d had enough of the bravado. She might have needed to get out of the hospital—he suspected the way she’d hurried to do so had as much to do with needing to feel in control and strong again as it did with getting back to work. But the woman had limitations. Everyone did.
He put both hands on her shoulders. “Lexie, you are fine.”
“I know . . .”
“You’re fine physically,” he said, cutting her off. “I believe you. But you were attacked. You can’t ignore that. You have to deal with it.”
She stared up at him, her beautiful green eyes a little bloodshot from her ordeal. And those bruises on her throat, God, just the sight of them—ugly and dark against her creamy skin—made him want to drive over to the police station and beat that animal all over again.
“I will,” she said, her lips trembling, her whole body tight as if she was holding on to her control by a thread. “However, right now I just need to work, okay? I need to. I’ll deal with all of this later, I swear. When I’m a little more pulled together.”
She wanted to postpone the crash, the moment when she allowed herself to accept that she could have been strangled to death and dumped in that alley. Just another violent statistic.
He got that. He’d been around enough crime victims, and enough grieving family members, to understand the sentiment. Putting off “dealing with” things was a reaction as normal and human as reaching for a light switch to banish the darkness.
Thing was, when she flipped that switch on and allowed light to shine on the dark places of her mind, she was going to have to face them. All of them. It would be neither easy nor pretty. Facing your own death was a momentous thing. She just hadn’t yet realized how momentous.
“Okay,” he said, mentally vowing to be there with her when it happened. “But humor me, would you? Wait here while I get the car? I’ll be right back.”
“Thanks,” she whispered. She lifted a hand to his face and ran her thumb along his bottom lip. “I wasn’t unconscious, right? I didn’t imagine what happened between us?”
“Well, you dreamed it,” he told her. “But no, you didn’t imagine it.”
She lifted her face to his and persisted. “I didn’t dream that kiss, though.”
“No, you didn’t dream that.” The kisses of Lexie’s dreams had been far more intense than the one they’d shared on the street. But not as important. Reality made it incredibly important.
“Whew,” she said, still gazing up at him, lovely and sexy, despite the bruises and the weariness and the tangled hair and torn shirt. Just lovely.
Knowing what she wanted, he lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her again, as carefully as he had before. This time, he gave in to his deep need to taste her and swept his tongue between her lips. She sighed, turning her head and kissing him back, their tongues tangling, warm and lazy like this slow Georgia afternoon.
She tasted familiar and so damn sweet. It felt as if they had always done this, had always been like this, and Aidan didn’t allow himself to question it or second guess it. Maybe things had started strangely, maybe it had taken a shared dream to make them realize they both wanted each other, but right now he didn’t care. He just wanted to keep standing here kissing her in the sunshine, both because he liked it and to protest the darkness that had drawn them together.
Finally, thinking of the place and her physical condition, he ended the kiss. “Wait here.”
She sighed. “If you insist.”
Retrieving the rental, he pulled up, and was about to get out to help her, but she immediately got in. He waited until she buckled her seatbelt, seeing how careful she was not to let the shoulder strap brush touch her throat. Clenching his hands on the steering wheel, he had to look straight ahead, not wanting her to see how affected he was by her every pained movement.
“It doesn’t hurt that much,” she murmured.
Okay, so apparently he hadn’t hidden his reaction well enough.
“Did they give you any pain pills?” he asked.
“A prescription. But seriously, I don’t even know if I’ll need to fill it.”
“Fill it, then decide if you need to use them.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, cocky and amused. If not for the Kathleen Turner voice, someone might not even realize she’d almost had the life choked out of her a few hours ago.
Aidan forced himself to let go of those dark thoughts and drove out of the parking lot onto the main road. He’d only driven to her home once, but remembered the way. It wasn’t like Granville was big enough to ever really get lost in.
Unless you were a teenage girl from the wrong side of town.
They didn’t speak; he wasn’t sure what was on her mind. Them? The dream? The reality?
“I called Walter for an address,” she said, answering the question he’d asked inside.
The case . . . her story. That’s what was on her mind. Work. It figured.
He liked her for that. Liked her a lot. He also knew she needed to focus on something—anything—else.
“You’re such a romantic. Whose address?” he asked, not hiding his amusement.
“I’m very romantic,” she retorted. “You wait and see: When this is over, I’ll out-romance the queen of hearts.”
He frowned, mumbling, “Wasn’t she a psychotic, head-lopping megalomaniac?”
“Don’t make me hit you before I’ve even seen you naked.”
Shifting in his seat, remembering they had absolutely seen each other naked in every way except in reality, he had to say, “You know, I don’t quite know what to make of all this. I’ve never experienced anything like it.”
“Like what?”
“Like you. How you make me feel. I don’t know what to do with you. I’m not usually so . . .”
“Peppy?” she asked, sounding mischievous. Because peppy he was not. No more than she was perky.
“Oh, here we go with the adjectives again. Let’s just ban words that start with P and end with Y from our vocabulary, all right?”
She tapped a finger on her cheek. “Like play?”
He thought about it, conceding, “Okay, that one can stay.”
“Party? Pretty? Paltry?”
“They gave you a sample pack of that pain medication, didn’t they?” he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.
She grinned. “Not a bit. But even if they had, I could outdo you in any word game.”
“My luck to go up against a writer.”
Laughing softly, she said, “Well, you’re one, too.”
Indeed. But he wasn’t as quick with words as this woman.
“Since you think I’m medicated, can I ask you something else, and then later we’ll chalk it up to the medicine I didn’t have?”
He had a feeling he knew what she wanted to ask.
“Last night. Has anything like that happened to you before? I mean, I can certainly see you inspiring them, but do you routinely go around inviting yourself into women’s wet dreams?”
He choked on a mouthful of air. “Uh, no.”
“Never?”
“Never. I was just as surprised as you were. Thought it was all my own dream until I realized it couldn’t be.”
She thought it over, then nodded. “Good. I have to say, it certainly beats beer and pizza for a first date.”
“Oh, please,” he said, scoffing at the notion, “you obviously haven’t been out with anyone other than an overgrown frat boy in a long time.”
She twined her fingers in her lap, looking down at them. “I haven’t been with anyone in a long time. Not in any way, shape, or form.”
He got the message. Found it hard to believe, given how vibrant and beautiful she was, but was also grateful she was completely free and unencumbered now. Free to explore with him, help him recall all he’d been missing about a normal life.
Clearing her throat, she changed the subject. “As much as I enjoy flirting with you and taking advantage of the fact that you think I’m a little high on meds, we do have other things to discuss.”
“I know,” he said, knowing there would be moments to look forward to later, when this pall wasn’t hanging over them, and the town. “Whose address did you want from your boss?”
“The friend of Walter’s who found the bones. He told me the guy lived out on Old Terrytown Road, and I got to thinking about what those prostitutes said.”
He almost skidded right through a stop sign at that one. Prostitutes? They hadn’t even talked about that part of her adventure. He could only shake his head, wondering if she was always so ballsy. He liked that about her, but it also scared the hell out of him. “Maybe you should back up a little and tell me everything that happened today.”
She did, quickly and concisely, that husky tone making her day sound like an adventure.
Yeah. If only it hadn’t ended with her getting brutalized by a thug.
The only time she showed any emotion was when she spoke of the fear and plight of the teenage girls, but even then she was able to focus on the information they’d provided rather than what might be done about them and others like them. There was nothing spacey or woozy about her. She hadn’t been kidding about the medication; she was entirely sharp, focused, on.
“And they said a lot of local girls—including Jessie Leonard—went out to be ‘entertainment’ at this mysterious club?” he asked.
“Yes. One said it’s out in a big, falling-down house in the country. I got to thinking about those remains Walter’s friend found. Terrytown Road’s an old plantation route that winds out toward the ass end of nowhere. There are a number of abandoned houses near it.”
He had to admire her quick thinking. “It’s possible these human remains came from near one of those old places.”
“Yes. Find out who the victim is, and who belongs to the club, and maybe we’ll be able to narrow in on Vonnie’s location.”
It made excellent sense and was a strong lead. So he didn’t even take the time to caution her about her hopes for finding Vonnie alive after five days.
Nor did he reveal that he’d tried again to reach out to the girl, sending his thoughts soaring over Granville before he’d come inside the hospital. He hadn’t gotten a scent, nor her voice. Just the sensation of moisture on his face.
Hot moisture—the kind caused by tears.
Not wanting to think of Vonnie crying, desperate and alone, he got back to the point—trying to save her. “What did Walter tell you about the location?”
“He wanted to protect his friend’s privacy. But he told me to check between mile markers ten and eleven.” With a smile, she added, “With a strong emphasis on the ten-and-a-half point. I’m thinking we can drive out there and explore, see if we can find any overgrown driveways or something that lead to houses set back off the road, ones that can’t be easily seen.”
Though he knew what her answer would be, he had to ask the question. “You sure you don’t want to sit this one out, given everything that’s happened today?”
“You sure you want to keep breathing?”
“Okay, just had to ask.”
“I know,” she conceded.
Glancing at the dashboard clock, he said, “We’re going to run out of daylight soon.”
“So let’s head out there now rather than going home.”
“Forget it. You need a hot shower and a change of clothes. Plus, we’re not going alone.”
She tilted her head curiously, as if wondering who in this town would help them. Judging by what he’d seen at the game last night, he suspected Granville wasn’t as devoid of decent people as she might have been thinking recently. But he had some far better assistants in mind.
“I called in a few friends to help with the investigation. They’re at my place now, looking through all the files and listening to the interviews.”
“The Extrasensory Agents people? Their names came up in some articles about you.”
“Yeah, well, don’t judge them by those. They’re good people. And excellent detectives.”
“Were they the ones with you in the alley? Not just some Good Samaritans?”
“Yes. They’re the reason I got to you in time.”
She curled one leg up in the seat. “I’d meant to ask you about that. How on earth did you find me? I know you realized I was going to Berna Jackson’s, but it wasn’t even like you could drive around and search for my car since I didn’t have it.”
He shifted in the seat, focusing on the route, not on the additional questions an honest answer would raise. “Julia got a tip from a friend and drove me over.”
“What friend?”
He flicked the turn signal as they reached her street, turned carefully, focusing on the road and hoping she’d forget the question since they were almost to her house.
Fat chance of that. As soon as he pulled into her driveway and cut the engine, she asked again. “Aidan? What friend tipped her off? Does she know someone else in Granville?”
“Not exactly.” Opening the door, he got out and then walked around to the passenger side, opening her door for her and extending a helping hand. She took it, let him help her to her feet, and leaned against him while he walked her to the door.
Again, he’d hoped she would be distracted, but the minute she turned the key in her lock and led him inside, she put a hand on his arm and looked up at him, her expression troubled. “What aren’t you telling me? Something else happened. That’s why you’re being so secretive.”
“No, it didn’t, I swear. I just don’t like to talk about Julia to people who don’t know her.”
Her mouth rounded into a shocked O and she immediately let go of his arm. Her lashes fluttering, she stepped away from him, as if he’d made her uncomfortable.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened. She thought he was protecting some secret he shared with Julia. As in a personal relationship.
After the way he’d kissed her right in front of the other woman, and everyone else, back in that alley, she actually thought he was involved with someone else.
Having no other choice, he admitted, “Look, her partner told her. Morgan was scoping out the town, spotted you, and told her you were in some trouble.”
She looked both relieved and more confused. “Well, you could have said that, couldn’t you? How did he know me? Was he walking by the alley or something?”
Damn, she was relentless. Thrusting a frustrated hand through his hair, he spit out the truth, knowing she wouldn’t believe it but unable to keep coming up with half answers to put her off. “He’s a ghost, okay? Julia, my former boss, talks to a dead guy.”
He had to hand it to her, she managed to refrain from laughing or rolling her eyes in disbelief. Instead, she merely shrugged. “Gee, why didn’t you say so in the first place?”
He knew it sounded crazy. It had sounded nuts to him when he’d first met Julia, so for an in-your-face, truth-and-nothing-but reporter like Lexie, it had to seem even more ridiculous. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t absolutely true.
“Morgan Raines was Julia’s partner on the Charleston Police Force. He was shot down by a scumbag druggie about six years ago. She says he showed up a few months later and saved her life when she was almost killed in the line of duty, too.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, nodding, that pleasant expression still on her face. He didn’t have any trouble reading it—she was thinking about calling for the guys in the white coats and padded wagons. “I take it you’ve met this guy?”
“No. Only Julia can see him.”
She snapped her fingers. “Wait, I think I saw this in a movie once. Mystery Men. This guy claims he can become invisible, but only if nobody’s around to see.”
Chuckling ruefully, he shook his head. “Julia’s going to like you.”
“That’ll make my day, I’m sure, being liked by Casper’s gal pal.”
“Whatever. Believe it or don’t. All I can say is, I’ve seen and done too much freaky stuff in my own life to question somebody hanging out with a ghost.” Lowering his voice, he added, “Sharing someone’s dreams isn’t exactly normal, either.”
Lexie’s smile faded and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth. He’d made his point. She would at least open her mind to the possibility.
And once she met Julia . . . well, it was hard for anyone to resist Julia Harrington when she set her mind to being liked and trusted. The woman was almost as big a force of nature as Lexie.
Saturday, 4:45 p.m.
Surrounded by people who knew and cared about Aidan, Lexie had to wonder why he’d ever left Savannah. These people, his former coworkers at Extrasensory Agents, obviously missed him. She had no doubt they had been behind him all the way on that last publicity-tainted case. From the moment she’d gotten in Aidan’s SUV, which his friends had driven over to her house, it had been painfully clear they all thought he was crazy to have moved to Granville.
Not that they were rude, God, no, they’d all been wonderful. More warm and considerate toward her than most people around here were these days—except for Walter and his family. But it was clear they thought he had wasted a year of his life on regret. Julia Harrington, who might talk to ghosts but was also incredibly charming and down-to-earth, seemed especially appreciative that Lexie had drawn Aidan back into the “land of the living” as she called it.
Huh. Guess she’d know.
“So have you found out what Chief Dudley Do-Wrong did with the bones?” asked Mick Tanner, the guy who’d had Aidan’s back during the fight in the alley. With his broad grin, twinkling eyes, and flashing dimples, she suspected the sexy guy could be a wicked flirt. But he’d been nothing but cordial and professional with her. Maybe because Aidan had given him a hard, warning look when he’d taken Lexie’s hand in his own gloved one to shake it.
But she could have imagined that. After all, Aidan had known her less than three days. They weren’t involved, had no claim on each other.
Except in their dreams.
“Lexie? The bones?” Mick prompted.
“Oh, sorry. No, I don’t know what he did with them. That’s something Aidan and I were going to get to work on. I was thinking it would be worth having Walter call the DA’s office, filing a request for information. If Dunston gets some heat from them, he’ll have to come up with some kind of answer.”
“Sure,” Mick replied, “as in, ‘Bones? What bones?’”
Lexie shook her head thoughtfully, disagreeing. “Twenty-four hours ago, I might have believed that. But he’s in the hot seat now. The spotlight is shining bright and he’s going to play Mr. Good Cop at least as long as he thinks people in this town give a damn.”
Olivia, who was as elegantly lovely as her boss, Julia, was flamboyantly sexy, cleared her throat. “Does your friend Walter know the medical examiner well? If he does get the remains, would he be open to allowing them to be . . . examined by anyone else?”
Lexie didn’t know Olivia’s background, if she was a psychic like Aidan, or saw ghosts like Julia. Come to think of it, she didn’t know what kind of power Mick had, either. But she suspected Olivia was not asking because she had some kind of forensics background. The tension in her tight shoulders and the haunted shadow in her eyes said she didn’t want to examine those remains but that she had to.
“Actually, yeah, they’re old friends. If he can pry those remains away from Dunston, I imagine he’d be willing to let you examine them, as long as he knows you have the credentials and reason to do so.”
Olivia nodded once, then looked away, focusing her attention out the window at the passing Georgia countryside. They had left town, heading west on Old Terrytown Road, with marshy flatlands and abandoned rice fields all around them. It wasn’t a particularly pretty drive, nor a popular place to live these days. Which could explain the abandoned houses. Some of them had been empty shells for a year, some for a hundred. Either way, the remaining neighbors were few and far between.
She couldn’t think of a better area to conduct meetings of a secretive club whose members had a predilection for teenage girls.
“Here’s the mile marker,” Aidan said, slowing as they drew close to the spot Walter had told her about.
They neared a mailbox that looked freshly painted and in use. Lexie studied the small name, and said, “Ah. Mr. McCurdy. He and Walter are old poker buddies. I’m sure he’s the anonymous source.”
“So this is the place,” said Mick. “Why don’t you pull over and let me get out, take a walk around? Obviously not many bones were found, and a single human body has a lot of them. Who knows? Maybe I’ll get lucky.”
Lucky enough to stumble over human remains on the side of a back country road. The thought was disturbing. But he was also right. “I should go, too. I know the area best.”
Aidan met her eyes in the rearview mirror. “Yes to Mick, no to you. He can tromp around along the side of the road; you and I have a house to look for. We’re going to drive up and back and see if we spot any old gravel roads, driveways, or paths, remember?” He shifted his attention to Julia, who sat beside her in the backseat. “Unless you have any other ideas, Julia?”
She shook her head slowly, gazing down at her own lap. “I need to get out for a few minutes. Let me go with Mick.” Lifting her head, she said, “I, um, might be able to narrow down the location of this mystery house.”
Lexie saw the way everyone else in the vehicle nodded, and realized they all thought the woman might be able to get a ghost to tell her where they should search. She still couldn’t wrap her head around it, but she also knew the other woman came across as competent, sharp, and, most important, sane.
And like Aidan had said, how normal was it to have shared sex dreams? She’d gone so far as to accept Aidan’s psychic abilities as a simple truth; it shouldn’t be that difficult to accept what she was told about Julia.
Only, of course, it was. Psychic stuff, even dreams, had at least some kind of scientific possibility. She knew much of the brain was a mystery to researchers, so it didn’t shock her to think it might be capable of a lot more than was accepted as fact. Someone who was able to tap into all that unused brainpower might indeed be able to see things others couldn’t or even into other people’s thoughts and dreams.
But ghosts? That was a whole other story. That was life and death, heaven and hell and earth in the middle stuff. She had her faith, and her beliefs; they didn’t include wispy remnants of the dead hovering around the living.
Not that she was rude enough to say such a thing to Julia’s face. Because, no matter what she thought, everyone else around her trusted and believed in the woman completely. Either that, or they just liked her enough to humor her.
Aidan pulled onto the shoulder, waiting while Julia and Mick climbed out. Olivia appeared undecided for a moment, then joined them. “No sense putting it off,” the lovely blonde said with a stiff little smile. “If we find something suspicious, I’m the one who’ll be able to figure out if it’s part of a human body.”
Okay, so maybe the woman did have a forensics background.
“Lexie, why don’t you hop up front so you can get a better view?” Julia said as she stood outside the door. “You be the spotter.” She glanced at Aidan. “When I get some information, I’ll call you and try to narrow your search quadrant, okay?”
“Understood.”
“It’ll be dark soon,” Julia added.
Lexie nodded in agreement. “We have no more than an hour of daylight left.”
“Okay,” Aidan replied, “so let’s make the most of it.”