A Breath Away (17 page)

So far from perfect that he had almost spat in her face.

And her blood…oh, it held secrets.

Secrets that she had kept from her lovers. Secrets that labeled her as damaged goods. Such imperfections made her so wrong for his father that he had been tempted to leave her completely naked and exposed. She didn't deserve the cleansing ritual or the soft sheet he had wrapped her in to cradle her in death.

But his mother had taught him to be clean. To wash the blood away, scouring the evil from deep within as the dry flakes of dead skin fell away.

And his father was the blessed one. The one who spoke of sin and repentance. Of redemption and life everlasting.

He saw Violet Baker's eyes in his mind and smiled, thinking about the test tubes. He had so carefully printed each of their names on the labels.

She was last on his list.

His body hardened at the thought of taking her. Of watching her blood seep into the test tube. He could hardly wait to tighten the tourniquet around her arm.

And to feel the silky softness of her throat as his hands closed around it….

T
HE KILLER'S HANDS
were closing around her neck.

Violet raised her fingers, massaging the tender skin, wishing she could run away. But she couldn't move. Couldn't escape. Couldn't leave these other women to die.

Bernie Morris's questions had spiked her curiosity about her past even more. Was he right? Had something happened twenty years ago between her mother and father and Darlene's parents? Morris had hinted it had something to do with a research center. But her father had never been into research. Although Darlene's mother had once been a nurse…

She needed to talk to Grady.

Unable to sleep, she fought the choking sensation and once again drew the images she'd seen. When she finished, she stared at the woman's face, knowing it was Kerry.

Frantic, Violet paced the floor, praying she was wrong, that Grady would find the waitress alive. He'd been searching for hours. But she could see the woman's face now, pale with death, her fingers closed around the sliver of bone. The killer had carved it while Kerry had been forced to watch.

Then Violet saw the blood again. Long fingers lined
up the test tubes in a row, one by one. Three tubes of blood now. Three women he had killed.

But he had more. She saw the test tubes. Tried to read the names.

The reporter's comment returned to taunt her. Something about a research center. Where was it? Nearby?

She struggled to make out the room where the killer was, but she couldn't see specific details to draw it. It wasn't a hospital room and it wasn't sterile. No, it was darker. More like a bedroom in a house. But, it wasn't his bedroom. It was a secret hiding place. Someplace in the forest. A place no one knew about.

The killer had taken the blood with him there. They were his trophies. She drew the test tubes on the sketch pad, outlined the labels.

She had to read the names. See who was going to be next. Try to save her.

But the killer's fingers traced over the labels, obliterating her view. It was almost as if he knew she was watching. As if he was teasing her.

He turned them around and around, then held them up to the light, toying with the blood and watching it swirl. Finally, his fingers traced along the bottom of the case. Another empty test tube sat waiting. Then another. And another. She counted seven more.

His finger rested on the final one. He traced his finger around the edge of the label as if savoring that last tube. His souvenirs.

A smile spread on his lips. Then laughter erupted. Eerie, sinister laughter.

He slid his finger to the left.

She saw the name.

Violet Baker.

Dear God, he knew she could see him. And he wanted her to know she was on his list.

* * *

T
HE KILLER WASN'T THROUGH
. He had only begun.

Grady knew it in his soul. He just wished he could pinpoint the man's identity before he claimed another life.

Violet.

Fear burned through his lungs as her face filled his mind. No, he wouldn't let anyone hurt her.

He drove like a bat out of hell into town, wanting desperately to stop by her house. But he couldn't, not with Special Agent Norton on his tail. Still, he saw her lights on, reassured himself she was safe at home. He would see her later.

Even though it was well past 3:00 a.m., there were lights burning in several houses. Grady could feel the tension rippling through the community.

Undoubtedly word had spread that Kerry's body had been found.

Occasionally he noticed a curtain part slightly, as if the owner had to peek out to make sure a madman wasn't stalking outside. Thankfully, the town didn't know yet that the police suspected Kerry's death was the result of a serial killer, a man Special Agent Norton and his task force were now calling the Bone Whistler.

But Grady had other problems. First, what to do about Violet and her so-called visions. He still hadn't informed Norton of the oddity.

And now two murders had occurred in Crow's Landing within the span of a few days.

Were they connected or not?

Exhausted but too wired to sleep, Grady scanned the streets, searching for potential trouble. He checked the
Redbud Café to make sure the Barley boys hadn't gone mad and organized some kind of lynch mob, then breathed a sigh of relief to find that things were quiet.

Special Agent Norton parked behind him. With trepidation, he led the agent up the back stairs to the Longhorse apartment above the café. He hated like the devil to wake Laney at this ungodly hour, but Norton insisted on questioning Joseph tonight.

As a cop, Grady knew the agent was right. As a local, he despised what their suspicions would do to poor Laney. And what if Joseph turned out to be guilty?

Norton raised his fist and knocked. They waited several seconds, then footsteps sounded. A minute later, Laney checked the peephole and opened the door.

“Sheriff?” She ran a hand over her long braid. “What's wrong?”

“I'm sorry to disturb you this late, Laney.” Special Agent Norton cleared his throat and Grady introduced him. Laney's expression immediately turned wary.

“I guess you heard about Kerry,” Grady said.

She nodded, tears glistening in her gray eyes. “It's awful. Poor thing…she was such a sweetheart. I can't believe she's dead.”

He nodded. “We have to talk to Joseph.”

“You don't think my boy had something to do with Kerry's death?” Her eyes widened. “Grady, you've known Joseph all your life. You can't possibly think such a thing.”

“Ma'am, we just need to talk to him,” Norton said.

She twisted the neckline of her robe. “I…he's not home.”

Grady frowned. “Laney, we're not here to arrest him, we just want to ask him some questions.”

“Go get him, ma'am.”

Laney pursed her lips. “I told you he's not here. That's the truth.” She gestured toward the door, opening it wider. “If you don't believe me, check for yourself.”

Grady started to back away, but Norton pushed inside. “I certainly will.”

Grady and Laney exchanged a troubled look, then Grady followed Norton as he strode through the five-room apartment. The agent was looking for evidence, anything in the open that might link Longhorse to the murders. Norton froze when he noticed the bone collection on the wall.

“Does that belong to your son?” he asked.

Laney nodded, still clutching the neckline of her robe. “They're from different animals he hunts. He uses some of them in our traditional rituals.”

Norton glanced at Grady, then back to Laney. “Where is your son, ma'am?”

“He was upset after that fight,” Laney said. “When he gets that way, he goes off into the woods to be alone, sometimes to meditate, sometimes to hunt. But he always returns by dawn.”

Norton nodded. “Then we'll be back then.”

Grady followed him out the door. As soon as it closed, Norton said, “Let's get a search warrant. I want it in my hands when we return at dawn.”

Grady remembered the sliver of bone his father had found in Darlene's hand. Was it possible Joseph Longhorse had put it there just before he'd killed her?

* * *

R
OSS
W
HEELER KNELT
at the altar, offering silent prayers that his father accepted his mere offerings and forgave him his sins.

His own earthly father would not be so forgiving.

Not if he discovered what Ross had done after the prayer meeting the night before, when Reverend Bilkins had spoken.

Especially if he discovered his visit to Kerry Cantrell.

His eye twitched, but he struggled to control it as a hard, firm hand pressed down on his shoulder. His father. Had they not been in church, the good reverend would have lashed out with more force. The scars beneath Ross's thin shirt burned from his shame—evidence of his father's previous punishments.

“Where were you earlier, Son?”

Ross pasted a sugary, kiss-ass smile on his face. He'd learned to play his father's game well. At least most of the time.

Unless his father could smell the evidence of his sins still on him.

He'd scrubbed and tried his best to wash it away, but those closest to the Lord sometimes knew things that others didn't. And the scent had seeped beneath his fingernails…. “I heard Reverend Bilkins speak, Father. I was most moved by his words.”

His father nodded. “I didn't see you in the front row.”

“I stood among the crowd, hoping to be moved by the spirit in the spectators. There was an energy there tonight, Father, an energy that lifted the crowd to new heights.”

“An energy you do not feel when I speak?”

Ross winced. His father didn't like playing second fiddle to anyone, even a famous televangelist like Brother Billy Lee Bilkins. Ross rose, brushed the seams of his slacks so they hung perfectly, then smiled at the
reverend. “No one moves me as you do, Father. I simply meant to compliment your taste in choosing Brother Billy Lee to join you at the pulpit for this revival.”

His father's eyes narrowed, flaring with suspicion as he studied his son's eyes. “You heard the Cantrell woman is dead?”

“Yes, Father,” Ross said quietly. “They found her body up at Black Mountain Church.”

“We must pray for this town, Son,” his father said, pushing him to his knees again. “Pray to extinguish the evil forces that live among us.”

Ross nodded obediently and closed his eyes. But in his prayers, his mind wandered. He saw Kerry as he had last seen her.

No one must ever know he had been there….

* * *

G
RADY COULD BARELY
stand to think about what the killer had done to Kerry before he'd finally strangled her. What he might do to another….

Violet.

While Agent Norton arranged for a search warrant for Longhorse's place, Grady drove by her house. He hated to disturb her if she was sleeping, but when he'd left, she'd been so worried about Kerry that he doubted she'd be able to rest. She was probably up waiting, wondering….

Besides, he had to verify that she was safe himself, that the killer hadn't come after her.

Tomorrow he'd get that tracer put on her phone. They'd catch this maniac before he hurt Violet.

Although it was nearly 4:00 a.m., her porch light was still burning. Grady scrubbed a hand over his bleary eyes as he parked and walked up her drive. He knocked softly, then called her name.

“Violet, it's me, Grady.”

Seconds later, the door squeaked open. Violet looked pale and worried, the harsh light of the porch accentuating the dark circles under her eyes. She needed sleep. Rest.

Comfort.

He didn't know how he knew that but he did.

Or maybe he needed to be comforted. Hell. It didn't matter.

Unable to stop himself, he stepped inside and pulled her into his arms. He was too damn tired to remember all the reasons he shouldn't. She felt fragile and small and so damn sweet and tender he was afraid he might crush her. But he clung to her for a second, anyway, dropping his head forward into the crook of her shoulder, breathing in her scent.

“You're okay?”

She nodded against him, her hands tentatively reaching up to grip his back. “You found her?”

He nodded. “I'm afraid so.”

She let that sink in for a moment. “She was on display just like the others?”

“Yes,” he said gruffly.

Violet rested her head against his chest and released a weary sigh. “It's not going to stop, Grady.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing she was right. Then realization dawned. He raised his head. Searched her face. “You saw something else?”

“He's putting the victims' names on the vials of blood.”

His breath locked in his throat. “Do you know who the next victim is?”

“No, but there are seven more. His finger covered up the names. All except one.”

He frowned, his eyes narrowing. “Whose name did you see?”

She hesitated. Bit her lip. Tried to turn away.

“Violet?” He slid a thumb to her chin and tipped her jaw up so she had to look at him. “Whose name was it?”

She picked up the sketch pad and showed it to him. “Mine.”

Violet gave a start as Grady released her. He paced across the room like a wild animal, shouting expletives. “Son of a bitch. We have to stop this goddamn maniac….”

“I tried to see more,” Violet said. “But it's almost like he knows I'm watching, as if he's taunting me.”

Grady halted, looked up at her. His expression was skeptical, then almost believing.

“Did you see anything else?”

“He raised the test tubes and studied the blood.” She shivered. “He gets off just looking at it. He wants it to be perfect, but it's not. If only I knew what he meant by that.”

Horror darkened her face, and Grady went to her again, then pulled her onto the sofa. He slid an arm around her, cradled her against him. “I told you my dad had found a piece of bone in Darlene's hand.”

She squeezed his fingers, ached for his warmth. She had been cold and alone so long. “I don't understand how this is all connected, but it has to be.”

“Unless someone knows who killed Darlene and is toying with us, making it look like the murders are connected.”

“They are connected,” Violet said with conviction.

“The town is going to be in a panic over this,” Grady said. “The FBI was already here. I'm meeting one of
the special agents in half an hour to question Joseph Longhorse.”

Violet shifted, her eyes questioning. “You don't believe Joseph did this?”

Grady shrugged. “I don't know what to think yet. We went by his house, and he wasn't home. Laney said he was out in the woods alone. And he was pissed when Kerry turned down his advances.”

“He used to comb the woods when he was a kid.” Violet twisted her fingers together. “But that doesn't make him a murderer.”