A Breath Away (16 page)

Again a trill. Another. Another.

His cell phone.

She stiffened in his arms. He froze and muttered a curse. Listened again. Knew he had to take it. He couldn't escape his job. A woman's life might depend on it.

He kissed Violet once again, hard, long, a promise that they weren't finished, then reached for the mobile unit.

“Sheriff Monroe.”

“Sheriff, it's Logan. We might have trouble.”

Grady gripped the phone tighter. “What kind of trouble?”

“Laney Longhorse said Kerry Cantrell is missing.” He paused. “I've asked around and no one's seen her.”

Grady's pulse missed a beat. “Maybe she just took the night off.”

“No, she called earlier to say she was on her way in to the diner. I checked out her place. Looks like someone broke in. There was a struggle.”

Grady glanced at Violet. She looked exhausted, but sexy. Her half-dazed eyes, full of desire and now fear, met his. Part of him wanted to crawl over beside her, finish their lovemaking. Shut out the world.

But he couldn't.

He had the same bad feeling in his gut he'd had the night Darlene turned up missing. He had to organize a search party, look for Kerry Cantrell. He only hoped Violet had been wrong.

That Kerry wasn't already a victim….

* * *

“I'
M GOING WITH YOU
,” Violet insisted.

“No. Logan will pick me up.” Grady moved away. It was back to business. “You're too exhausted, Violet. You need rest.”

Unfortunately, he was right. She could hardly move. She would only slow him down, be a liability.

Sensations he'd aroused still tingled through her body. Disappointment followed. Fear replaced the pleasure. She had to be strong. “You'll be careful?”

He halted at the door, stared at her long and hard, then nodded. “Lock the door behind me. And don't let anyone in.”

She shook her head, following him across the room. “I won't. But come back…tell me when you find her.”

His jaw tightened. He had to search, had to know for sure.

Had to find the body.

“Kerry's the one I saw,” she finally whispered. “Check the churches,” she added, her heart breaking again at the thought of the pretty young waitress being defiled in public.

He nodded, then bent down and kissed her again before he jogged outside.

Violet closed the door, then staggered to the bedroom, drained, defeated. She stretched out, ready to wait the grueling hours. But when she closed her eyes, the shadows moved in, eating at her sanity. Just like the
killer's hands. She felt the scarf sliding against her skin, his hands squeezing….

Seconds later, she jerked upright, stale air and the scent of danger engulfing her. She wasn't alone.

The air shifted. A faint pungent odor filled her nostrils. She could feel someone's presence. The killer's.

He was staring back at her, and he was only a breath away from touching her…

* * *

S
OMEBODY WAS WATCHING HIM
.

He pivoted, searched the darkness, listened. Had someone found him?

Silence met his questions, the answering stillness in the air confirming that he was alone with the dead woman. Her bulging eyes told him she'd prayed for a savior until the last minute.

Her limp, drained body proved her savior hadn't heard her.

Her blood told him she wasn't the one.

Still, as he laid her gently on the altar, he felt the exhilaration of having served his father. But he also sensed someone else's presence. That had happened to him only one other time.

With Darlene Monroe.

He'd read that the Baker girl had some kind of psychic connection with Darlene. Had she somehow climbed into Kerry Cantrell's head to watch him?

If so, he hoped she'd enjoyed the show. It wouldn't be the last.

In fact, he vowed to make it better for her each time. Until she lay in his arms and he drew her blood, then laid her at the altar. The last little lamb.

His final sacrifice to his father.

I
T TOOK
G
RADY
less than an hour to organize a search party. But déjà vu flooded him, memories of the night Darlene disappeared rushing back.

News traveled quickly in a small town, the main barriers being the distance between homes and the lack of technology—some people still didn't have the Internet, and cell phones hadn't taken the community by storm as they had in metropolitan areas. People here were country born and bred, liked the old ways and weren't in a rush to get anywhere, much less into the future. Others simply couldn't afford it.

A few locals began the search in town, while others formed small groups to check the foothills of the mountains and get word to residents on the periphery. There were so many places to search—vacant chicken coops scattered among the hills and valleys, abandoned cabins and outbuildings tucked away in the middle of nowhere, two or three storage warehouses, old farm silos, barns and bins, even a dozen small caverns that would make a good place to hide.

Grady kept hope that Kerry would be found safe and alive, but with every passing hour, his hopes faded. The other women had been found around midnight.

It was already twelve-thirty.

He and Logan had begun with the churches, leaving someone to watch each of the two in town while they drove to the smaller country churches on the outskirts. The first one, the small Presbyterian church on Route 9, was empty, save for a vagrant they found sleeping on a front pew.

“Don't run me off,” the old man whined. “I ain't hurtin' nothing.”

“Come morning, find a new place,” Grady said.

“Why are you out here, anyway?” the old man snapped.

“The preacher knows I come, and he don't mind.”

Logan explained about the serial killer and the missing woman in town.

The old man shivered. “Maybe I will find some other place. I don't want to be here if some maniac comes up.” He rose and staggered outside, disappearing into the woods.

Grady and Logan headed to the Church of God in the foothills. The sounds of the night echoed in the strained silence as they swung onto the dirt road that led to the wooden church. Clusters of oaks and pines surrounded the chapel. The location was so isolated, Grady wondered how the attendees ever found it. But the people who belonged were a tight group, all finding housing in the lower half of Crow's Landing, all reveling in the simplicity of the setting. A wolf cried in the distance as they climbed out. Logan scanned the darkness as if checking for bobcats or bears.

“If this killer isn't from the area, I don't see how he'd even know about this place. Doesn't he usually leave the victims so they can be found easily?” Logan cleared his throat. “I thought part of the sickness was showing off and not getting caught.”

“Usually.” Grady grunted and walked up the steps, checked inside. Nothing. Logan combed the property, but he, too, came up empty.

Maybe Violet had been wrong. Maybe Kerry would appear back in town, and everyone would laugh about how they'd exaggerated her situation. She'd probably had a secret rendezvous with some new lover.

“Should we check the one at the top of the peak?” Logan said.

Grady nodded and once again took the wheel. His stomach knotted as they climbed the mountain, memories returning of that night twenty years ago when they'd ridden the roads hunting for Darlene. They'd found her at Shanty Annie's, the old well house, not a church, though.

But that piece of bone still bothered him.

Ten minutes later, he wound along the dirt road toward Black Mountain Church. The wind whistling through the window tried to cool the air, but only shifted the heat around him. He was sweating, his palms damp, his heartbeat accelerated. He parked the car, his hand on his gun, his instincts alert as he and Logan scanned the woods. Ten steps toward the white wooden church and he saw her.

She was sprawled facedown on the front stoop, as if she'd been left there for the gods, her neck twisted at an odd angle, a sheet wrapped around her.

“Christ.” Logan removed his sunglasses. “It's Kerry.”

* * *

V
IOLET STARED INTO
the darkness, the feeling that she'd actually seen into the killer's mind plaguing her. Why would she connect with a madman?

A board creaked in the front room. She searched the shadows. She wasn't alone.

Someone was in the house now. Was it the killer?

Shoving the covers away, she reached for her cell phone, then tiptoed to the den to listen, blinking to acclimate her eyes to the darkness. Moonlight softened the corners of the room. The desk in the corner had been disturbed. Drawers hung open.

A shadow flickered. Moonlight splintered across the room, illuminating him.

She backed toward the door and opened her mouth to scream. He lunged toward her and covered her mouth. Violet kicked and swung her fists, but he gripped her tighter.

“Be quiet. I'm not going to hurt you.”

She froze, the blood roaring in her ears. The reporter.

“I just want to ask you some questions.”

She kicked at him, but he jerked her arm so hard she buckled.

“Don't push me, Miss Baker.”

Deciding to play along, she nodded.

“Now, if I release you, promise not to scream.”

She nodded again, deciding she'd have to choose her moment.

He released her mouth and she gasped. “What are you doing here? I could have you arrested for home invasion and assault.”

“I told you I just want to talk.”

Her gaze shot to the door. He was blocking it. “How did you know where I lived?”

“It's my job to investigate things.”

“Then why did you lie to me in Charleston?”

“Because I didn't think you'd talk to me if you knew the truth about who I was.”

“You're right.” Their eyes met, locked. His smile held an evil glint. He liked knowing she was scared.

“Why are you following me?”

“Looking for information. I think you're the key to my story. And I might be able to help you.”

“I don't see how that's possible.” She glanced around. “You told Sheriff Monroe you were following the serial killer case.”

“I am, and I think it's linked to you.”

Violet inhaled to steady her breathing. “What makes you think that?”

His thin lips spread into a grin. “I've heard about your gift. And I understand that you tried to save Darlene Monroe twenty years ago.”

“How do you know that?”

He wheezed a breath, the sound echoing in the tension. “I grew up outside of town here. I remember the stories.”

“So,” Violet said, her temper flaring, “you want to write about the crazy girl?” She stalked by him, tried to punch in 911 on her phone.

He hesitated, then grabbed her again and yanked the handset from her. “No, I want to find out the truth, just like you do. I haven't pieced everything together, but there's a research center, a hospital near here. There was talk of some unusual experiments going on twenty years ago, ones some of the townspeople knew about, ones they covered up.”

Violet stared at his hand, willing him to remove it from her arm. He finally released her. She met his gaze again. “What are you talking about?”

“Your father's murder. Darlene's. They had something to do with your mother.”

“My mother died when I was born.”

“No, she died when you were two. She was in a mental institution.”

Violet gaped at him in shock. “Where did you hear that?”

“I told you I've done my research. But I've only scratched the surface. Whatever this secret is, it could be big, and I'm going to blow it wide open.”

Violet folded her arms. But she was so desperate for answers, she had to listen. “Go on.”

“I suspect your father was murdered because he knew too much.”

Violet racked her brain for a reply, but so far the reporter seemed on target. “How do I know you didn't kill him? And that you're not here to kill me, too?”

“If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it already.”

She hesitated. “If you are telling the truth, what happened twenty years ago? And why would someone kill my dad over it now?”

He ran a hand through his scraggly hair, mouth twitching. “I'm not sure yet, but I'll find out.” He slanted a cold gaze at her. “But it seems too coincidental that you were connected to a little girl's murder, and now this serial killer.”

Violet's heart pounded. How could he know she was connected to both of them—unless he was the killer?

* * *

“W
E HAVE TO FIND
this killer.” Grady's gut pinched as he photographed Kerry Cantrell's body. No woman deserved to die like this. To be left naked, wrapped in a sheet, treated like some sacrificial animal.

He radioed the other search parties to relay that they'd discovered Kerry, although Grady insisted he not reveal their location. The last thing he wanted was for half the town to show up in a panic and contaminate the crime scene.

Then Logan scribbled details about the body's position and the scene as Grady recited his findings. Finally Grady read the note. The same native expression had been written as a farewell to Kerry. And Violet had known about it. There was also a sliver of a bone beside the body.

The bone whistle.

“People in town are going to panic when this gets out,” Logan said.

“I know. Her disappearance has already created some hysteria.” Guilt over his dismissal of Kerry's interest in him added to Grady's temper. “We'll have to do what we can to control the crowds, especially those Barley boys.”

Logan nodded, then strode to the edge of the woods, searching for footprints.

Within an hour, the Nashville CSI unit barreled up to Black Mountain Church, along with the FBI. Grady braced himself for the posturing he expected over jurisdiction and who had priority on the case. The FBI didn't think much of small-town law enforcement. They probably thought he was inept, too.

Special Agent Nick Norton, who was spearheading the task force, introduced himself along with a female profiler, Special Agent Adams. Agent Norton scowled at Logan. “What are you doing here?”

Logan's hand balled into a fist. “I'm the deputy in town.”

Norton cast his eyes toward Grady for confirmation, and Grady nodded. “You two know each other?” he asked.

“We met on another case,” Agent Norton said in a clipped tone.

Logan rocked back on his heels, his gaze unwavering.

“Have you touched or moved anything?” Agent
Adams asked, breaking the tension between the men and bringing them back to the task at hand.

Grady frowned, curious about Norton and Logan's history, but that would have to wait. “No. We may be small town, but we know how to do our jobs.”

Agent Norton raised an eyebrow. “Good, we'll need your cooperation.”

Agent Adams studied Kerry's body and began to assess the scene while the crime scene techs began to work.

“She was left like the others?” Grady asked.

“Identical,” Agent Norton said. “Even the note is the same.”

“Have you traced where the killer bought the sheets he wraps the victims in?” Logan asked.

Norton didn't bother to look up. “Not yet, but we're working on it. What's the victim's name?”

“Kerry Cantrell,” Grady said. “She's a local, worked as a waitress at the diner in town.”

“Was she from around here?”

He shook his head. “She moved to Crow's Landing about a year ago.”

Norton jotted down notes, recording their conversation. “Married?”

“No.”

“Boyfriends? Lovers?”

Grady hesitated. “Not that I know of.”

“She's attractive. You mean there was no one?” Norton asked again.

“That native was interested in her,” Logan said, piping up. “Although Kerry turned him down. She was interested in the sheriff.”

Grady glared at his deputy, but Special Agent Norton perked up.

“When was the last time you saw her, Sheriff?”

Grady crossed his arms. “Yesterday at the diner.”

“I assume you have an alibi for the last few hours.”

He gritted his teeth. “You've got to be joking.”

“Listen, Monroe, you know the drill. Play the game so I can eliminate you, and we'll get along fine.”

The muscles in Grady's neck bunched. He'd been on the verge of telling them about Violet's vision. Shit. If he did that, they'd think he was nuts. “As a matter of fact, I was in town all day. Half the citizens saw me. I've been with my dad, then the mayor, then my deputy and I rode in together to break up a fight at the diner.”

“And this native?”

“Joseph Longhorse is his name. His mother owns the Redbud Café. He was involved in the fight.” Grady explained about the reporter and the panic he'd created, along with the hysteria over the profile reported on the news. “The Barley boys are prejudiced bullies. They never liked the Native Americans in town and have been ruthless to Joseph Longhorse for years. The profile gave them an excuse to go after him.”

“But he does fit the profile.” Norton made a clicking sound with his teeth. “Then I say we talk to Mr. Longhorse. Find out just how angry he was that Miss Cantrell rebuffed him.”

Grady nodded reluctantly. He might not get along with Longhorse, but he didn't see him as a killer. Then again, the man did hike off into the woods for days. He liked to hunt. He had some peculiar customs, a lot of anger bottled up. And he collected those damn bones.

But even if he'd hurt Kerry, why would he have killed those other women?

Unless he was simply copycatting the murder to make it look as if the serial killer had killed Kerry.

* * *

T
HEY HAD FOUND HER BODY
.

A sense of elation warmed his blood as they scurried around with their cameras and notepads. Kerry Cantrell had been so easy. So ready to fall into his hands.