Cuff Master (6 page)

“I can’t even imagine such a thing.” Suddenly, Morgan
recalled the scent of smoke and apples that’d clung to the tuxedo.

In her experience, spirits revealed themselves to her in
ways that didn’t often make sense until sometime later. Jenna had been giving
the only clues she could.

Two things had been very prominent to Jenna when she’d died,
the scent of apples and smoke. Apples had been stronger, leading Morgan to
think the girl died near a farm stand that sold apples, not in the fire.

“Are you all right, Ms. Everhart? You’re trembling,” Alisa
said, moving closer.

“I’m fine,” Morgan insisted. “I’ve a bit of a headache.”

“Would you like some Tylenol or aspirin?”

“No, I’m hoping it’ll pass.”

“I should get back to the party, boring as it is. I’d far
rather retreat to my orchard.”

Alisa looked off toward the bathroom door. It was obvious
she needed to get back and wasn’t sure why she made such comments to Morgan.
Something within Alisa was compelling her to remain. Morgan knew that something
was the woman’s daughter.

“Wait!” Morgan jumped in before Alisa could escape. “You
mentioned an orchard?”

“Yes, my family owns one of the oldest apple orchards in
Massachusetts.”

“Where’s the orchard, Mrs. Bailey? I’d like to visit
sometime.”

“It’s centrally located off Route 2 near Concord. Andrews
Farms and Orchard has long since gone from apples to selling all sorts of
vegetables. My sister Maura runs it now. But it’s my solace. I feel closest to
Jennifer there. She loved apples, especially apple cider.”

“Mrs. Bailey, if you’d like to talk further, come see me at
my shop in Salem. I know it sounds strange, but I’m psychic and I believe…I
believe your daughter was at the wedding reception last Saturday night. I’d
thought she’d come for Ethan. Now I think she was there for you.”

“My Jennifer is dead! Some sicko tried to sell her in an
online auction. When the police tracked him down, he killed them all, all those
girls! The only saving grace is that vice detectives apprehended Terrence Mills
and evidence at the scene helped put him away for life.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s a relief to
know the bastard got what was coming to him.”

“Obviously your headache is causing you to say such
outlandish things.”

“It’s not my headache, ma’am. I saw Jennifer. She had long
dyed black hair set in pigtails, dressed in Goth clothing and looked much like
you, very pretty, with kind eyes and intelligence.”

Alisa raised her eyes. Her sadness had been replaced with
self-loathing. Drawing back, Morgan felt the onslaught of negativity and guilt.

“It wasn’t your fault, Mrs. Bailey.”

“If I hadn’t hired that witch Erica White, my daughter would
have been found alive. Detectives Maddox and Riley wouldn’t have focused so
hard on my husband, my
husband,
as the primary suspect in her
disappearance. They’d have found Terrence Mills before it was too late!”

“Where is Erica now? I could talk to her for you.”

“I hope to God she’s dead somewhere in a ditch for all the
pain she’s caused me and my family. Excuse me…”

Alisa Bailey’s voice trailed off and she left. It wasn’t
until after the door closed that Morgan felt goose bumps shiver over her skin.
The room’s warmth had been invaded with a coolness that couldn’t be mistaken.

Even though no one else was in the bathroom, she wasn’t
alone. Sharp pain sliced through her skull, creating the headache she’d known
would come if she continued to use her gifts.

The lights flickered rapidly, adding to the discomfort. Time
stood still.

Reaching out to God to be certain she wasn’t communicating
with something other than Jenna, she remained very still, listening and
praying. The most frightening thing about talking to the dead was the ability
for evil to mask itself as something innocent.

Children were frequently the devil’s greatest trick. When
she felt protected by God’s goodness, she opened herself further to Jennifer.

“Jenna, if you’re her, please show yourself. Use me if you
must.” She turned on her digital voice recorder by rote as a vague impression
of a girl slowly manifested in front of the door where Alisa had gone through.

Just as she’d seen last Saturday night, Jenna presented
herself in her favorite clothing, combat boots, a lot of black, a dog collar
and dyed black hair set in pigtails. This was what she’d been wearing when she
died.

“See this device in my hand? You can talk to me and others
will hear you. Let them hear you. Nod your head if you understand.”

The teenager inclined her head, her image shimmering.

“Was I just talking to your mom, Jenna? Or do you prefer
Jennifer?”

Jenna,
the girl said
,
nodding.

The pain lancing through Morgan’s head became harsher,
threatening to make her pass out. Refusing to cave in to pain, she took it,
used it.

“You weren’t a runaway, were you?”

No. I only wanted to meet a boy. I’d never been on a
date. He understood me.

“Was I talking to your mom?”

Yes
.

“Is there something you want me to tell her? Is she the one
you want to save?”

Cops weren’t wrong. Father’s the liar, not Erica. Mom
needs to know the truth before it’s too late.

“Do you know what happened to you or where Erica is?”

The girl shook her head, possibly unable to answer because
she didn’t understand the question or didn’t want to understand. She faded some
as she turned to reveal a deep crimson gash in the back of her head.

Blood rained down Jenna’s back, covering her, covering
everything it had touched.

Morgan feared she’d be ill for days after this, but it was
well worth the sacrifice if she could help Jenna. “Your father hit you in the
head?”

Not my real daddy, second father. He bought me, held me
down, she struck me. Wasn’t strong enough and he finished the job. Help her,
please. Help my mom before it’s too late to save her.

“Your stepfather is Spencer Bailey?”

Jenna nodded. The smell of apples and smoke became cloying.
Morgan grew weaker. The pain in her head grew sharper. Her strength wouldn’t be
enough for the EVP session to continue.

Turning off the recorder, Morgan lowered her hand. “You did
well, Jenna. Thank for being in my presence. Go and rest.”

On instinct, Morgan punched a number on her cellphone. The
signal was weak and it had very little energy left, but the call went
through…straight to voicemail.

All she could do was ask for his help. “Ethan, it’s me. I
need you. Hurts, my head hurts. He hit her in the back of the head, blood went
everywhere. He killed her. Please come.”

The phone went dark, drained of its battery just as the
lights went out.

Severe pain shook Morgan to her core, making it difficult to
find her night vision. Thinking she was heading for the door, she’d gone about
two steps before colliding with something hard.

The door creaked open. Someone had entered the bathroom, bright
lights flashed and her migraine loomed harsher than before, blinding her before
she could get a bearing on where she was or what was happening.

“Hello? Mrs. Bailey? Is that you?” A hand came out of the
light, grabbing her hair, pulling hard.

Morgan yelped and tried to scream. Something hard and heavy
smashed into her skull. Wetness trickled over her face. Helpless against
colliding with the floor, she tried to break her fall.

Caving in to the darkness that’d suddenly consumed her, she
was vaguely aware of the scent of smoke.

An alarm went off, deafening in its intensity. Rain poured
down, soaking her. And then there was nothing but silence.

Chapter Three

Ethan reached Druid Creek Castle at breakneck speed. He
didn’t recall driving, traffic or turning off the engine when he arrived or
exiting his vehicle.

His only thought was to get inside the building when he saw
two massive fire trucks in the parking lot. Customers were standing outside of
the castle pointing and talking as firemen went in and out of the front
entrance.

A quick assessment of the scene revealed that no one was
panicked. Flames weren’t shooting out of the building. No one looked hurt or
screamed for help.

What scared him the most was the ambulance that’d arrived
with sirens and lights flashing seconds behind him and headed around to the
back parking lot.

All hell had broken loose while he was having a tantrum
because his woman dared go out with someone else. All he knew right then was
that she’d called and she’d been in pain. That’s all he needed to know to haul
ass to Danvers and help her.

Seeing Remy Sinclair standing off to the side of the main
door, Ethan headed toward the other man. Morgan wasn’t with her date!

Angry and scared, Ethan took out his badge, flashed it as if
he had every right to be there and rushed to confront Sinclair.

“Dammit, she’s down there. Let me back inside so I can find
her!” Remington Sinclair screamed at someone inside.

“Sinclair, you’d better not be referring to my woman.
Where’s Morgan?” Ethan demanded.

Remy turned and faced him, unafraid to look him in the eye,
but something was off.

“She went downstairs to call you and do an EVP session. She
was gone awhile so I’d thought it was going well and made a dash to my car to
get a spirit box. When I went back inside, Alex Grant and I had started talking
when the fire alarms went off downstairs and we smelled smoke.”

“You trying to tell me Morgan’s somewhere in that fire?”
Panic damn near made him smash Remy’s nose in.

“Sprinkler system kicked in downstairs. Fire’s out. Grant
pushed me out the door and went to the basement to make sure all the customers
got out through the fire exits in the back. He hasn’t returned.”

“Stay here and stay put. So help me God, if something
happened to Morgan, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

“I would never let anything happen to her, Detective Maddox.
I certainly never thought a phone call would cause such trouble.” Remy ignored
Ethan’s orders and rushed inside with him.

“What happened, your psychic sense didn’t forewarn of danger?”
Ethan challenged.

“I’m open-minded, but I’m not psychic the way Morgan is.
Something was going on here and she followed her gut.”

Inside the building, the smell of a doused campfire
permeated everything. Some of Druid Creek Castle’s staff and waiters were
outside the front entrance waiting for the fire department to give the
all-clear.

Voices came from the grand staircase that led to the ground
floor. Rushing down the stairs as soon as he knew it was safe to do so, Ethan
drew up short at the sight of Alex kneeling over Morgan, who was soaking wet
and not moving.

“Alex!” Ethan shouted, rushing across the floor, ignoring
all except his woman lying there on the floor bleeding.

Blood covered her face, mixing into her beautiful hair. Her
eyes were closed.

Alex turned at the sound of Ethan’s voice. His face was pale
as a ghost. His concern was as frightening as Morgan’s silence. “Get your ass
over here and work your magic on her, Ethan, now!”

Sinking to the floor, Ethan gently touched Morgan’s face to
swipe her wet hair back. She had a nasty gash on her forehead. Water made the
trickle of blood worse.

“Morgan, sweetie, I’m here. I’m here,” he whispered
soothingly.

He wasn’t a medic, but he knew better than to move her until
the EMTs got there. That didn’t stop him from continuing to wipe the blood from
her face.

“Get me a towel and something warm and dry. She’s soaked,”
he ordered, not sure if he spoke to Alex or Remy, who’d knelt beside them.
“Come on, baby. Open your eyes. I’m here. See?”

A soft, pained moan came from her lips as she came around.
Gingerly, she turned her face into his hand. “Ethan?”

“Yeah, open your eyes. Please.”

“Don’t want to. Hurts. Head hurts.”

“I know.” Someone brought a blanket over and handed it to
Ethan.

“Got this from the storage closet on this floor,” Alex
explained. “I also brought a washcloth.”

Grateful, Ethan covered Morgan and tucked it around her
shoulders and arms, then continued to wipe at her face with the cloth.

“I’m sorry, Ethan, so very sorry for hurting you,” she
uttered. “Everyone leaves me. If you do, it’ll kill me. Please don’t leave.”

“Shush now, honey. I’m not leaving, don’t worry about that.”

“Sir, if you’d scoot back, I can take a look at her.” An EMT
had arrived, moving in to assist.

“Not going anywhere, sorry.” Ethan refused to budge. Morgan
didn’t open her eyes. “She suffers from migraines. She called and said her head
was hurting.”

The EMT set to work, his attention on Morgan. He was
extremely gentle when he checked her eyes and the nasty gash on her forehead
just above her widow’s peak.

Even the quickest flash of light in her eyes caused Morgan
to cry out. Ethan steadied her by leaning in and squeezing her hand. “Let him
check you, honey. He’s not trying to hurt you.”

She settled at the sound of his voice and closeness. Ethan
wanted to cover her with his warmth. Despite the blanket, she was chilled to
the bone.

“Can anyone tell me what happened?” the EMT asked as he
proceeded to take her vitals and placed an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth
on the chance she’d had smoke inhalation.

“Not sure,” Alex answered very softly. “I came downstairs
when the fire alarms went off and saw water trickling out of the bathroom.
Sprinkler had gone off so I figured the fire must have been confined in there.
I found her on the floor in the ladies room. There was blood on the sink, smoke
everywhere but no flames.”

“Trashcan fire,” someone said behind them. Ethan looked
back. Recognizing the fireman’s garb as the chief, he didn’t interrupt. “It was
enough to set off the alarms and sprinkler, but wasn’t a threat to the
building. When the lady can speak, I’d like to ask her why she was smoking when
it’s forbidden.”

“She doesn’t smoke,” Ethan stated.

“Someone did,” the chief replied. “Found a cigarette in the
can.”

“Doesn’t mean she did,” Alex interrupted. “Anyone from the
bar could have gone into the ladies room to smoke. Common problem with a place
like this, I’m just glad the sprinkler system worked the way it’s supposed to.”

“No,” Morgan said so softly only Ethan heard her. She
struggled to remove the mask, managing only to move it slightly to the side.

“Easy,” Ethan murmured, staying very close.

“Tried to kill me,” she whispered.

“Who tried to kill you?” Thinking she was confused, Ethan
drew back to study her face. Despite the oxygen mask and the blood, she was the
most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Jenna’s killer,” she maintained, opening her eyes only to
squeeze them shut and speaking so softly the sound barely registered. As it
was, Ethan had to lean very close to hear her. “I didn’t start the fire. I
think he did it. She must have told him about our conversation in the ladies
room.”

“You’re not making any sense, Morgan. Settle back down,
please.” She grumbled, tossing her head. Ethan and the EMT gently urged her to
stay still and let the oxygen do its thing.

After a few minutes, she calmed down and no longer seemed
distressed. When she breathed evenly, she shifted her face enough to speak to
Ethan exclusively.

“Please believe me, Ethan, you have to help Jenna. I have
proof if you need it!” With strength that took him by surprise, she shot
upward. “My recorder! Where’s Remy?”

“I’m here, love,” Remy answered. “I’m listening, but you
need to listen to the EMT there, okay?”

Ethan lifted his eyes. “Call her love again, I will not be
responsible for what happens to you, got it?”

“Sorry, man,” Remy apologized.

“Remy, get my voice recorder,” Morgan insisted, loud enough
to make herself heard over the plastic mask muffling sound.

“Where is it, Morgan?”

“Restroom,” she answered.

Remy stood up. The fire chief stepped in front of him.
“Sorry, can’t let you go in there. Fire inspector can take a look when he gets
here. Only thing I found in there was a cellphone on the floor where the lady
was found. She’s real lucky the smoke was minor and the fire doused quickly.”

“I need my recorder. EVPs are on it,” Morgan insisted.
Opening her eyes again, she grabbed Ethan’s arm. It must have hurt for her to
do it, but she gripped so hard she left a mark. “Find it, Ethan. Jenna spoke to
me.”

“Jenna who?”

“Bailey, she doesn’t like being called Jennifer,” Morgan
answered, being careful to confide only in him. “Erica White was right.
Terrence Mills didn’t kill her.”

“Honey, what you’re saying’s impossible,” Ethan said,
confused and unaware that he’d spoken louder than he’d intended. “How can you
even know about Erica White or Terrence Mills?”

“I may be of help, Chief Winslow, Detective Maddox,” a woman
said, interrupting Morgan before she could speak again.

Ethan looked up to see Alisa Bailey standing with the fire
chief. As beautiful as ever, Alisa looked terribly sad.

He didn’t blame her. A parent shouldn’t have to bury her
only child. Knowing Terrence Mills had gotten a hold of Jennifer Bailey in
order to sell her at auction to become some fucker’s sex slave still made Ethan
sick to his stomach.

Seven other teenaged girls who’d been reported missing or
ran away from broken homes were found with Jennifer. All lured by the promise
of a boy they’d met on the internet, one who gained their confidence. All
executed and torched because Terrence panicked when the authorities gathered
the necessary warrants and went to arrest him.

Mills was paying for his crimes. But Ethan and Sam had
failed. They’d failed Jennifer because they’d followed Alisa Bailey’s spiritual
advisor’s insistence that Jennifer’s stepfather had been responsible for her
death.

“Mrs. Bailey,” Ethan greeted softly, being careful not to
move Morgan.

“Ms. Everhart couldn’t have started a fire,” Mrs. Bailey
admitted. “She complained of a headache. I think it must have made her say
crazy things. I’m sure she didn’t mean them. She didn’t have cigarettes with
her that I could see.”

“Didn’t mean to upset Alisa,” Morgan muttered. “I saw her,
Ethan. I spoke to Jenna. She’ll not rest in peace until you expose her stepfather.”

“Morgan, stop, you can’t make accusations such as that,”
Ethan warned softly.

“You don’t believe I’ve spoken to Jenna,” Morgan said.

“I believe that you believe it. I believe someone hurt you.
On the chance that that person’s still near, we can’t talk about this here.
You’re confused, sweetie, and hurting.”

“For once, I’d like you to support me. Guess that’s too much
to ask.” Morgan turned her face away from his hand. He’d been stroking her hair
back behind her ear while the EMT placed a bandage on the wound.

“Does she need stitches?” Ethan asked the man.

“Probably a few, but the wound isn’t terribly deep,” the
medic said. “I’d recommend getting her to the ER. She could have a concussion
or go into shock. I checked her lungs and they sound clear, but I’m keeping
that oxygen mask on her until a doctor tells me otherwise.”

“Please don’t make me go to the hospital unless it’s
necessary.” Morgan spoke quietly to the EMT, doing her best to ignore Ethan,
but he wasn’t going anywhere.

Seeing her deflate because of his doubt, Ethan had to take a
chance. Morgan believed what she’d said. Ethan didn’t know what to believe, but
to push it aside because he didn’t understand wasn’t fair to her.

“Alex? How fast can Ryan get here?” Ethan asked.

“He’s already on his way. Maybe five minutes, tops,” Alex
answered.

“Dr. Ryan Hathaway can take care of Ms. Everhart,” Ethan
told the EMT. “If he thinks she’s got a concussion, I’ll take her wherever he
recommends.”

“Not you,” Morgan hissed with more venom than Ethan
expected. She looked so sad and lost and uncertain, the pain and the blood on
her face and in her hair making everything that much worse.

“Try to see if you can stop me.” Keeping an eye on Alisa
Bailey, he leaned in close to Morgan. “Hush now, honey, I want to hear what you
have to say. I can’t if you’re in danger and Jenna’s mother is standing there
watching. I failed that woman. I can’t fail you. Understand?”

Carefully, he touched his hand to her temple, keeping her
focused on him. Morgan’s gaze, though glazed with discomfort, held his. For a
moment he was lost in her.

Then she began to struggle and he refused to let her win.
“You didn’t fail, Ethan. Jenna’s stepfather killed her. If I can find Erica
White, I plan to prove it. Then I’m going to nail that asshole to the fucking
wall.”

“You’re not to do anything, you hear me? You’re going to
have to trust me and let me do my job.”

He didn’t know why or how it happened, but right then and
there he believed Morgan. If there was one shred of evidence out there that
would expose Bailey for what he’d done, he’d find it.

“So now you want to play hero, Detective? What’s changed in
two minutes? Hoping to get laid? Can’t, got a headache.”

“I’m not a hero, but I am your man, Morgan Everhart. That
means I support you in all things, even those I don’t understand. Don’t shut me
out because I’m a stubborn sonofabitch, okay?”

She held still for a moment longer. Ethan held his breath,
waiting for her decision. Ultimately, she inclined her head once and closed her
eyes, settling down so that her head landed right on his lap.