Fatal Storm (15 page)

“Tied in a bow?” Padre didn’t recall any
previous cases in the computer but then they all took place over
fifty years ago. “Why call the killer Rain Man?”

“Because, he only killed during a storm.” A
clap of thunder almost drowned out Venus’ words. “He killed
fourteen people. There would be a storm followed by a rash of
killings, then nothing for another ten years.”

“Sounds like folklore to me.” Dagger tossed
his empty plate in the garbage. “I would sooner concentrate on the
here and now.”

“I agree,” Padre said. “We need to look for a
missing woman.”

“I want to finish looking through the rooms,”
Dagger said. “Maybe there’s something your men missed.”

“We’ll help,” Josh offered.

“No.” The last thing Dagger wanted were two
love sick puppies following them around. He picked up one of the
scanners Skizzy brought. “Why don’t you take your scanner and
finish the first floor, Skizzy.”

“Yo, dude. That the gadget you were talking
about?” Flea rose from the table and walked over to where Skizzy
stood.

“Yep, dude.” Skizzy stressed the word Flea
had a tendency to overuse. “Why don’t you tag along?” Skizzy
checked the battery in the scanner.

“So anything you might have hidden in a wall
will now be found.” Dagger sensed something not quite right with
the IPI group, or at least the two guys. Was he only getting
territorial and over-protective of Sara?

“Are you accusing us of something?” Josh
demanded. “Just because you swagger in here with a gun on your hip
gives you no right...”

“ENOUGH!” Padre’s head was ready to split and
his frustration was bested by a grumbling of thunder. “Give me the
second scanner. Josh and I will start at the other end of the
house.”

“Do you hear it?” Venus pointed toward the
window. “It’s starting to really come down. I better light the
candles.” She grabbed the box of matches off the mantle.

“Let it storm,” Skizzy said, rubbing his
hands together. “We have our snacks, candles, and Padre has his
crucifix. We’re good to go.” He grabbed the scanner and set
off.

Lightning flashed beyond the windows and
several seconds later a large crash of thunder shook the building.
The lights began to flicker.

At the top of the staircase against the
darkness of the alcove, an image attempted to cut through a haze.
It hovered, changing shape, pressing against some unseen veil as it
gathered strength to fully materialize. Outside, as the storm
intensified, the figure frantically ripped through the veil, took
in the sounds from the floor below, then stepped back and
waited.

“That is a beautiful doll.” Sheila wasn’t too
surprised that the doll was dressed in the same type of Victorian
clothes as Colleen wore. “I used to have a bed full of dolls. I
swear, every time a new Barbie doll came out, I had to have
it.”

“What’s a Barbeeee,” Colleen asked, dragging
the name out as though it had three syllables.

“Oh, come on. You had to have heard of
Barbie and Ken.” Sheila studied the intricate lace work on the
doll’s clothing. Colleen shook her head no. Of course not, Sheila
thought. In her dream she had been dropped into another era, like
Dorothy in
The Wizard of Oz
.
You would think she could at least feel her mother holding her
hand. She wondered briefly if Dagger might be there, too. Unless
her father was there in which case Dagger wouldn’t be anywhere
near. Would be nice to open her eyes and find Joe and Dagger on
opposite sides of her bed, each holding her hand, promising undying
love. She gazed quickly at Walker and thought of how often she had
had sex in her dreams. At least being in a coma wouldn’t be a total
loss. He did have a dangerous appeal, sinister and dark, like
Dagger. Joe had a bit of bad boy in him, but not the dangerous
undercurrent Dagger possessed. Whereas Dagger’s danger left a
thrill coursing through her body, Walker’s was more Dexter-like.
Some men undress Sheila with their eyes. With Walker he appeared
more to be gutting her.

“What are those?” Colleen pointed at the
colorful bands around Sheila’s wrist.

“They are animal bands.” Sheila peeled them
off and placed them on her lap. “See how this one is shaped like a
dog? The blue one is a bird. And this one is a squirrel. Here.”
Sheila slipped them on Colleen’s wrist. “I gave a tour of our
newspaper headquarters to a group of grade schoolers several weeks
ago. Each of the students gave me one of their bands.”

“What are you supposed to do with them?”

“The kids exchange them, like baseball
cards.”

“I remember those,” Walker said as he had
been quietly listening to their conversation. “I’ve shown them to
you, Colleen.”

But Colleen either didn’t remember or had no
interest. She was more focused on the rubber bands. She carefully
counted the bands, placing them in two piles, careful to make sure
they were even.

“Are they mine to keep?” Colleen’s eyes were
wide in anticipation. It looked as though Colleen had never
received a gift before. Was the one doll Colleen played with the
only toy this child owned?

“Tell you what. Why don’t you take ten and
I’ll take ten. That will make us like a big sister/little
sister.”

Colleen agreed and handed one stack to
Sheila.

A bolt of lightning lit up the skies followed
by a clap of thunder they could feel through the floor boards.
Colleen stiffened and even Sheila felt her body jerk. Walker only
smiled and looked longingly at the skies.

Sheila picked up the doll and straightened
its dress. “I saw one similar to this one somewhere. It had been
propped against the pillows on a pink bedspread.” Sheila thought
about that for several seconds. “Of course! This is wonderful!”

“And how does this make you deliriously
happy?” Adrian prompted. He sat with his back against the couch's
arm rest, his body cocked to face her. Colleen sat on the floor
cross-legged, her eyes riveted from Adrian to Sheila.

“Because now that more of my memory is
returning, it means I’m coming out of the coma. Don't you see?”
Adrian and Colleen exchanged glances. Sheila prattled on but
neither of them appeared willing to challenge her.

“Sebold founded the shipping harbor which
brought a lot of business to the area. He built the mansion on the
outskirts of what is now Cedar Point. After he and his family
left...no.” Sheila closed her eyes for a few seconds. “No,
something happened to his daughter and wife. But why was I in his
house?” She rubbed the bump on the back of her head. It was still
tender as was the bump on her forehead. “YES!” Sheila cried out as
more of her memory came back. “That's where I was. I joined this
group of amateur ghost hunters when they spent the night at the
mansion.”

Colleen giggled. Adrian smiled. “Ghosts? How
amusing.”

“Do you believe in ghosts?” Colleen asked
her.

“Not at all. And you shouldn’t either.”
Sheila touched Colleen’s cheek. “There is a logical explanation for
everything...like my coma.”

“What happened to her?” Colleen’s voice was
so low Sheila wasn’t sure she heard her correctly.

“Who, sweetie?”

“The man’s daughter? You said something
happened to her.”

Sheila struggled to remember the names.
“Marian was the wife and...Julia. Yes, Charles and Marian Sebold
had a daughter Julia. She disappeared when she was seven years old.
Never seen again.”

“What do they think happened to her?”

Adrian slowly straightened, his dark gaze
leveled on Colleen. “Miss Monroe, I don’t believe this is a subject
for someone Colleen’s age.”

“I’m seven, too.” Colleen appeared eager to
find out more about Julia Sebold. “Did her daddy miss her?”

“I’m sure he did.”

“Miss Monroe.” Adrian’s voice was abrupt.
Outside a line of dark clouds charged angrily across the skies.
Colleen inched closer to Sheila. She studied her hands, averting
her eyes from Adrian.

“How strange. Why do we still have lights
downstairs but not upstairs?” Sara moved slowly to keep the candle
from being extinguished.

Dagger slapped his flashlight against his
leg. “Damn thing worked downstairs.”

“This is the last room. Padre said Sheila had
claimed this room for herself. Her purse and coat were found
here.”

How like Sheila to claim the master suite for
herself. A large four-poster platform bed was against one wall.
Candlelight caused shadows to dip and sway around desks and chairs,
playing a surreal game of hide and seek. Sara lifted the candle
toward the wall where a painting hung.

“This must be Marian and Julia. How
beautiful.” The two were mirror reflections of each other. Both had
blonde hair and blue eyes. Marian had a hint of haughtiness but the
smile on her face and softness of her features played it down.
Julia looked around five years of age. They were sitting on a bench
in the gardens. The colors in the portrait were bright, the day
sunny. Sara noticed the artist’s signature. “Her husband painted
this.”

Dagger closed the closet door. “There’s
nothing here. Not even an access to a hidden passageway.”

A movement outside the door caught Sara’s
attention. It was a quick flash as though the darkness shifted.
“Hold this.” Sara handed Dagger the candleholder and stepped out of
the room. She called on the eyesight of the hawk and surveyed the
hall to her left. She didn’t see anything or anyone suspicious.
Slowly she moved past the staircase and down the opposite hall. A
crash of thunder brought with it a strobe light of lightning. She
cocked her head and heard someone swearing downstairs. The storm
probably zapped the power in the entire house. She blocked out the
voices but it was difficult to block out the storm. Rain pelted the
roof high above her head. She stood in the doorway of the study.
Outside the French doors rain gathered in puddles. But when the
lightning flashed, she suddenly saw a dark figure standing in front
of the French doors. What sounded like a whisper drew her
attention. Sara’s curiosity outweighed her fears. They still didn’t
have any proof of ghosts or spirits, friendly or evil. But she was
sure her enhanced powers could certainly sense any uninvited
guests.

The storm had developed an attitude,
alternating thunder and lightning in a continuous raucous rhythm.
Whatever was standing in front of the French doors was no longer
there. Sara was confident the shadow was her imagination. She
turned to go back the way she came and was brought face-to-face
with what looked like a man. She could see him yet she could see
the hallway behind him. He was dressed in a pleated shirt, light
color, and he had a scar above his right eye. Through the image she
could see Dagger exiting one of the bedrooms at the far end of the
hall. For some reason Sara wasn’t afraid. She stood her ground and
the figure advanced.

Stop
him
.

What? Stop who? Sara wondered. Did she
actually hear words or was the storm playing tricks on her
hearing.

The image swayed at first as it advanced
closer. For a moment he seemed to disappear but then she felt a
breeze on her face, a breath next to her ear.

Stop
him
.

As Dagger approached, the figure retreated
and disappeared, as though stepping behind a curtain.

“Hey, where did you go?” Dagger cupped a hand
around the candle flame to keep it from dying out. “Find
anything?”

“Do you see anyone near me?”

Dagger looked at her and slowly smiled.
“You’re not going to tell me you saw a ghost, are you?”

Sara said nothing. She grabbed the
candleholder from his grasp and turned, shining the light behind
her but it barely reached past ten yards. The storm continued its
own light display but the hallway was empty as well as the
study.

“He told me to stop him. What do you think
that meant?”

Dagger cocked his head and was ready to laugh
but Sara wasn’t smiling. “You’re serious.”

“It was Sebold, Dagger. I’m sure of it. He
had the scar above his eye, the same one that shows on the portrait
downstairs.” She stood in the doorway to the study, the room with
the terrace where Sebold had jumped to his death. “What if his
death wasn’t an accident?”

“Come on.” Dagger wrapped an arm around her
shoulder and led her toward the staircase. “I think you have been
listening to too many stories about the Rain Man.”

Padre swept the scanner over the wall in the
servants’ quarters. “Our fire department has a couple of these.
Amazing little gadgets.” A five-inch monitor jutted from the hand
held device. What was on the screen resembled an x-ray image. A
gray and white hazy reflection of wiring, beams, and dead
space.

“You should have done this yesterday. Would
have saved us all a lot of time. I could be back home already.”
Josh stifled a yawn, not exactly the sign of a guilty man.

“If I could have gotten the fire department
out here, I would have. But at the time there wasn’t a reason to
check the walls. Now open that closet door.”

Josh trudged over and pulled the door open.
Padre looked for any signs of hesitation from the lanky guy, but he
wasn’t even breaking a sweat. Padre swept the scanner over the
ceiling. Still nothing.

“Sheila Monroe is a beautiful woman. Was she
your type?”

Josh let out a snort. “A little too rich and
too old for my blood.”

“Really? You’re only a few years younger. Did
she shut you down?”

Josh closed the closet door and followed
Padre out of the room. “I know what you’re trying to do,
Sergeant.”

“And what’s that?” Padre smiled. He didn’t
need a physical interrogation room to break down a suspect. “Two
self-made men like you and Flea might think it would be appealing
to someone like Miss Monroe. Here she pulls up in that fancy car of
hers. She’s an heiress to a dynasty of sorts.”