Between Darkness and Daylight (44 page)

He slid off the ring and cradled it in his palm, tossed it into the air once, then caught it and slipped it into his pants pocket.

He had to get in touch with Nova as soon as possible and put their relationship to rights.

Then they needed to compare notes on his death.

* * * *

"Ms. Foxx? Ms. Foxx, are you okay?"

She blinked open her eyes, trying to hold onto her latest vision. She'd seen him!

"You want your usual today? You look like you could use a double."

Nova raised her head from her desk. She'd barely registered Josh's shy grin when she caught the sketch she'd drawn somewhere in the nether world between talking to Ransom and hanging up.

She looked at the receiver, still clutched in her left hand. She never
had
hung up.

God, when had the vision started? How long had it lasted?

"How long have you been here, Josh?"

He shrugged. "Few seconds. Just walked in the door."

She nodded, trying to recapture that vision. The major portions were clearer—too clear.

The woman and her children were there in the strange living room that was becoming more familiar with each vision. Nova was nearby on the sofa, and of course
he
was there, only this time she saw his face—just a glimpse, but she'd seen enough to draw her sketch.

A man with a gun instead of a hunting knife—or maybe it was in addition to it. She didn't see the knife, but knew it had to be nearby 310

Gracie C. McKeever

because she just couldn't imagine him being without it. And this time she saw Zane and Ransom as clearly as she saw the assailant.

Nova had flashed out of the vision just as the man fired at Ransom and Zane leaped in front of his nephew. She couldn't be sure, but she thought she cried out in her trance—that was when Josh had walked in and found her drooling on her desk like a strung-out junky.

She had to get to Zane immediately. If she never saw him again, if he never forgave her, she would deal with it, but she had to make him talk to her now. She couldn't let him walk into whatever was going to happen without giving him one more warning, the most important, detailed warning she could.

"No coffee today, Josh."

"Oh, okay."

Nova grabbed her purse from a desk drawer and retrieved her overcoat from the rack behind the door. She just barely missed doing a Josh-like tumble over his coffee cart in the hallway before she rushed to the elevators.

* * * *

Getting through the school's security force almost made Nova wish she'd left everything in her car except herself. The rigmarole would have been worth it, if it provided for a safe environment, but she knew for a fact that it all was for show. Otherwise, how could a killer roam the grounds and murder a student's father in cold blood?

The hallways were empty, and the echo of her Italian pumps was the only noise in the hallway until the bell signaled a changeover.

Teenagers spilled out into the hallways from every direction, a shining illustration of organized chaos as they rushed from one class to another. It was a miracle that she spotted Ransom's aura among them. He was several yards away, among a group of other teens and what appeared to be a teacher.

Though some of Ran's peers reached six feet, this guy was a few inches over that, at least six-three, and his color-coordinated athletic gear did little to hide the well-toned physique beneath. It was difficult to tell his
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age, but he definitely seemed to be in charge, his deeper voice rising above the teenage clamor surrounding him.

The halls were still teeming as Nova neared Ransom and the teacher.

But when the man turned to speak to another student, Nova saw his face and everything and everyone in the hallway stood still. Except him.

He was the man from her sketch.

"Hey Nova!" Ransom waved at her.

She wasn't aware of her feet carrying her towards the teenager. She felt an almost overwhelming compulsion to warn him and then run away as fast as she could, but Ransom seemed comfortable enough around the man. In fact, he seemed so at ease, she began to doubt her vision and this man's role in it. After all, he didn't look anything like the man from the photo on the end table. He had long blond hair, a mustache, and a beard, and was far from the clean-cut man with “typical dark Latin looks.” But there was something about the eyes behind those wire-framed John Lennon specs, something dark and penetrating and familiar, that spoke to her.

"You came to see Uncle Zane?"

Nova nodded and put a hand on Ransom's shoulder, grounding herself in his gentle aura, drawing on his calmness as she glanced at the man.

Ransom grinned widely as he made the introductions. "This is my fitness teacher, Mr. Richards. Mr. Richards, this is my uncle's friend, Nova Foxx."

"The pleasure's all mine." He held out a hand and the hair on the back of Nova's neck stood up before she even put her hand in his, goose bumps popping up when she touched him. Her tongue was tied in the same knots as her stomach. "Ransom's been telling me a lot about you."

She finally found her voice. "Really?" she murmured, hoping she didn't sound as shaky as she felt. She comforted herself in the knowledge of Ransom's easiness with Mr. Richards. The kid seemed to like him. That had to say something.

Yeah, that he weaseled his way into Ransom's confidence and took
advantage of a needy, hungry-for-attention young boy.

"I'm going to tell Uncle Zane you're here. Be right back!"

312

Gracie C. McKeever

Ransom was off in a shot and Nova moved to follow him, but Mr.

Richards caught her by the wrist. She looked up and found herself staring into the teacher's dark, disturbing gaze.

Sinny's murderer flashed before her then, stabbing and hacking at her until there was no life left and blood pooled around her motionless body in the dark parking lot.

The killer looked directly at her, black-haired and clean-shaven but with Mr. Richards's eyes.

"Whoa, whoa, are you okay?"

Nova's head snapped up and she felt an arm slip around her waist, steadying her against a rock-hard chest. "I'm all right." She took a deep breath. "Please let go of my hand." She almost bit her tongue at her ungracious tone. She should have been thanking him, but couldn't find it in her heart to be nice to this man, knowing all too well what he was capable of.

Steady, girl. Don't rile him and you'll get out of this okay.

"You looked like you could use a hand. Are you epileptic?"

"What?" She stared at him. He sounded like he actually cared about her health and welfare, but she knew it was a façade.

Mr. Richards shrugged. "Just that you seemed like you'd slipped into a trance. A lot of people don't know it, but that's another form of a seizure."

"I'm not epileptic and I assure you I'm fine." She tried to pull away, but came up against his steel-banded grip around her wrist, his fingers cruel as death.

"I'm sure you are."

"I'd appreciate it if you'd—"

"I'm sure you would. But I think I'd rather keep you close, just as you are."

His breath was warm in her ear as he held her against him, showing no sign of releasing his hold on her.

I'm in trouble.

"What do we have here?" He snatched the sketch out of her hand.

Until that moment, she'd forgotten it was clutched in her fist, and though the words were almost identical to the ones Zane had uttered when he'd playfully wrested the picture of himself from her hand, the tone was miles apart.

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His brows crinkled in recognition and Nova saw the surprise in his eyes. She mentally kicked herself; she'd known this man was the murderer when she first spotted him with Ransom, but she'd allowed doubt to creep in and dropped her guard.

"I don't know how you got this,
chica
, but it's not going to do Mr.

Caseworker any good if he doesn't see it, now is it?" He crumpled the sketch, flinging it to the floor with one hand while he twisted Nova's arm behind her back with the other.

She gasped and he twisted harder, pressing his lips to her ear.

"One word, and I'll be sure Ransom is the first one I kill."

Nova snapped shut her mouth and stopped struggling against him.

"I thought that would get your cooperation." He pulled her towards the exit, the same exit where the two girls had found Trevor Cross's body a few weeks ago.

He's going to kill me.

314

Gracie C. McKeever

Chapter 29

I'm in trouble.

Zane didn't know from where the thought had come, or why his heart was suddenly pounding with fear, but when Ransom burst into his office all agog and said Nova was waiting for him in the hall, it didn't surprise him.

"Ransom, I'm about to start a session."

"It'll only take a couple of minutes for you to go out and say hi."

He wanted to do just that and more. He wanted to go out there and hug and kiss her and tell her he never wanted to be without her again.

But he still had a job to do—a student on her way to see him for counseling and who'd expect him to be here for her. Unless this was an emergency and Nova was…
in trouble.

He couldn't get the thought out of his head, the words clanging a rhythm through his brain cells, remorseless as an alarm clock. He’d thought he was keeping Nova safe by staying away from her these last two weeks; had thought he was keeping himself and Ransom safe.

Had he put them all in more danger instead by keeping her at bay?

"Ransom, how…how is she?"

His nephew frowned. "How is she?"

"I mean, how'd she look to you? Was she okay?"

"If you mean, was she down-and-out heartbroken that you haven't returned her phone calls? Nah, she looked cool."

Cool. That all-encompassing word that kids used to describe anything good or positive. It wasn't helpful; it just meant that Nova was alive and breathing.

Never mind the swipe his nephew had just taken at his character. God, the kid made him feel like a cad, and it couldn't have been further from the truth. He'd have been more of a cad if he'd acted on his feelings and
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rushed to call her back or go over to her place. He couldn't do any of those things, couldn't commit to a life with her without being sure. He wouldn't risk hurting himself again. He wouldn't risk hurting Ransom again with false hopes of having a woman's gentle influence in his life.

Was he too late in wanting to risk it all now?

He's going to kill me.

Zane lurched to his feet and made his way from behind the desk.

Ransom grabbed his hand and dragged him through the outer office into the hallway, then froze in the middle of the floor. "But, they were right here. I told her I was going to tell you she was here. I said I'd be right back."

"They? Who's they?"

"I told you. Nova and my fitness teacher." Ransom wandered down the hall, going from door to door, peeking through the glass panes in the hopes of spotting Nova.

"You didn't mention your teacher." Zane caught sight of the crumpled paper and bent to pick it up, unfolding it quickly. His heart pounded faster than it had in his office.

No, this couldn't be right. He was holding a picture of Enrique Martinez! The hair was long and blond, he had on glasses and a mustache and beard, but he knew those eyes. They'd seared through everyone in the courtroom during his hearing. Zane would never forget the hate that had filled them.

Ransom sidled over, glanced at the sketch. "Hey, that's my fitness teacher!"

Zane turned and caught him by the arms. "What's his name, Ran?"

"You're hurting me." Ransom squirmed in his grip and Zane loosened his hold a little, but pulled the kid closer so that they were almost eye-to-eye.

"What's your fitness teacher's name?"
It doesn't matter. You know the
truth, and you're stalling as if that'll make the truth untrue!

"Mr. Richards. Martin Richards!"

Martin Richards. Enrique Martinez. Could it be that simple? Oh
God…Oh hell!

Zane grabbed the cell from his belt clip, rushing for the back door with Ransom on his heels. He hit the panic bar and sprinted several yards 316

Gracie C. McKeever

before he paused to search the school yard and sidewalk to his right and saw the empty streets. No Nova, no Martinez..

Zane dialed Leary by rote and the all-circuits-busy message only underscored his frustration. He gripped the phone in his fist, gritting his teeth.

Think! Where would he take her? Where would he go?

He closed his eyes and swallowed, trying to find her with his mind, catch her thoughts, maybe get a lead on her location. He was certain now that Nova had reached out to him with her mind, and he was alarmed at how easily he had ignored her cries for help.

She'd been calling him, and he'd brushed her off for his job!

"It's my fault."

Zane opened his eyes at the small broken voice and saw Ransom leaning against the heavy steel door, holding it open with his slight, lanky body. Agony was etched across his face, and Zane went to him, put a hand on the boy’s shoulder as he walked him back inside the building. "Of course it's not your fault."

Ransom nodded vigorously. "I said things to him."

"Things?"

"I confided in him. It was when I first came to live with you. I wanted to go home, and I missed my mom and…I said…horrible things about you."

"It's not your fault."

"Is Mr. Richards the one who…killed Aunt Sinny? Is he the one who’s after you?”

“I think he might be, Ran,” he murmured, trying to keep the panic out of his voice as he saw the rush of tears to his nephew’s eyes. He pulled Ransom into a hard hug. "You didn’t know, Ran. This isn’t your fault.

You hear me?”

"But I…I never should have said those things."

"You were unhappy. You couldn't know who you were trusting." Zane caught the eye of one of the security guards patrolling the hall and waved.