| |
Wednesday, 0030
––––––––
Ann crumbled to her side, gasping for air. She reached for the radio, but the pain searing her insides kept her curled in a ball. How was this agony supposed to be helpful for Sophia if it debilitated her Protector? Ann gritted her teeth and forced herself to her hands and knees. She took deep breaths and rose to a squat, using a dining room chair to steady herself. Her vision was haloed in blue from the light in her veins. They’d never glowed so bright before.
The pain started to lessen, but still burned. Her vision darkened. What a faulty alarm system!
“You’ve been . . . in worse . . . pain.” Kind of true. There was a time in her training in which she was subjected to full-on pepper spray. Her eyes burned for hours despite washing with ice-cold water and resting her head in front of a fan to ease the sting.
Ann clipped the radio to her belt, pulled herself to her feet, and stumbled to the door. She gripped the frame, and a low bass sound came from behind her. The book. She needed to protect the book, too. She grabbed it, then hurried outside. The cold air cleared her mind, and she was able to get a handle on the pain.
Deep breaths. Push through. It doesn’t hurt. No pain, no gain.
She hauled herself onto the bench seat in her truck, threw the book on the floor board, turned the key, and backed into the mailbox. Old mail fluttered out and flipped and twirled on the blast of exhaust. She took off toward Harmony B&B.
By the time Ann pulled up to room six, the pain had lessened to a dull throb every few seconds, like a second, sluggish heartbeat.
Her headlights hit the wide-open door.
Ann jumped out of the truck. “Maggie,” she yelled. The interior of the cabin was dark. “Raghib?”
Back against the door frame, she reached inside and flipped on the light. “Pinky,” Ann gasped.
The dog lay on her side with a heavy lamp next to her. A small puddle of blood had pooled beneath her ear. Pinky shifted her head and fixed Ann with sad eyes. She let out a whimper. Ann rushed to her side. “Oh, Pinky. I’m so sorry. You tried to warn me, and I didn’t listen.”
Just like you didn’t listen to George.
I hope everything went okay. . .
George could handle himself. He was big and burly despite being so innocent, so saint-like, so . . . pure.
Blood of the Pure.
“Shit.”
Ann stood but didn’t go anywhere. Couldn’t think of where to go, what to do. Maggie was in trouble. George could be next. Bram might still be alive. She needed backup and backup never came. On top of it all, the mark stabbed her with pain.
An overwhelming sense of responsibility and worry about making the wrong choice paralyzed her.
Condition Black.
Just like it had that night. She’d had to choose which one to save—the Stabber’s victim, Elizabeth, or her partner, Bruce—and she couldn’t decide. Both of them had died.
“What should I do?” She asked the air around her in a panicky voice.
Angel...
A voice whispered so soft Ann held her breath to hear it again. The light throbbed with the beating of her heart.
Angel.
Her father’s words came to her.
Summon the angel.
Pinky sat up and flapped her ears, then slowly got to her feet. The wound on her head had crusted over. She stared at Ann, tail wagging in a low swish. She gave a half-growl-half-bark and moved toward the door.
One thing at a time. That’s all she could do.
Ann followed Pinky out to the truck. First stop, the station. She needed a gun. The thought made her stomach flip, but it was a necessity given the circumstances. Raghib had Maggie, and Ann didn’t have the slightest idea where he might have taken her, or to whom, or how many whoms there might be.
She arrived at the station a few minutes later.
“Come on, girl.” Pinky groaned, shifted, licked her lips, and sighed again. “Let’s go.” Ann tugged on her collar, and the dog reluctantly crawled across the seat.
Ann peeked inside the station.
George lay on his back on the floor near the desks.
Poor George.
A mug of water sat on the desk. Probably a drink for Teresa. Ann, too, would have felt sorry for Teresa if she didn’t suspect she’d killed Derrick and everyone else who’d gone missing. She’d have to dust the mug for prints later.
“Hello?” she called. “It’s Detective Ann Logan. If you’re in there, come out with your hands where I can see them.”
When no one appeared, Ann crouched next to the dog.
“Pinky, seek and destroy.” She pointed into the room.
The dog looked at her with the quizzical look dogs were wont to give, then grinned the classic pit bull grin.
“We’ll work on that one.” Ann crept inside. Pinky followed, looking up at her to see where she would go next.
“If you’re in here, I have a dog who’s trained to attack. Come out slowly with your hands up.”
Ann scanned the area as she sidled over to George. She knelt by his side and felt for a pulse. There wasn’t one. The crispy substance littered the floor near him.
“Dammit, George.” She stuffed her emotions into the shadows turned her mind to the work at hand. Number six. Assuming Teresa killed Derrick for his zoe and not just because he was a blind idiot.
Oh shit. Blind Fool.
One more and all hell would literally break loose.
Pinky sniffed George, sneezed, and went into the office. Ann heard her jump up onto the couch, circle around, and flop with a loud sigh.
Ann picked up the phone and dialed the county coroner’s office to report the body.
The body. George. Her partner.
I’ve killed another one.
She should have listened to George when he said he couldn’t handle Teresa.
The coroner’s office didn’t answer, so she left a message letting them know she’d found a body. The lack of resources in Castle County made everything so difficult.
She called the state and CBI. Where the hell were they?
Once again, the dispatchers who answered the phone told her they had no record of anyone from Castle County having called.
“I have a body here, and four missing persons who are probably dead. Get me some fucking back up.” Ann slammed the phone down, rubbed her temples, then stared toward the locker room.
Her dad’s gun. Her dad. He was still alive somewhere.
Keep it together.
Before she could change her mind, she stomped to the lockers and strapped her dad’s belt to her waist. She ignored the pounding behind her breastbone as she checked the clip. No one said she had to use it.
She called Pinky’s name, and together they strode back to her truck, but she had no idea where Maggie might be.
They climbed in, and Ann gripped the steering wheel. Raghib was still a Messenger of the Light, which meant he must be helping Teresa, or vice versa. She put the truck in gear and backed out of the lot. Brent had photographed Teresa coming out of the abandoned funeral home. It was the only lead she had.
I’m coming, Maggie.