Phobia KDP (39 page)

He could not take that risk.

He glanced at Bethany. She struggled with her tape, but he could see that her bonds still held. The switch for the light on her bedroom ceiling was beside the closet. Her bedside table held three candles—plain thick pillar candles—and a pack of matches.

Slowly, he crawled until he reached the three candles and matches on her bedside table. Holding them in one hand, he pulled his body toward her closet. In one massive effort, he screamed and pulled himself up to flip the light switch on Bethany’s wall, ignoring the searing agony that ripped through his leg. The overhead light flickered on, bathing the room in brightness. For a moment he felt a flash of relief, and he rested on the floor, panting with fatigue and pain. But when he glanced outside the window, he could see the evening shadows. Panic colored his vision and he looked around wildly. He had to find a safe haven.

He pulled himself closer to her closet using his arms and his one good leg, and his mind screamed with the excruciating suffering that burned through his body.
I might never walk again
, he thought.
All of this crawling may have damaged my leg permanently.

He thrust open the closet door. He needed to be in a corner, tucked away. As far away from the darkness as possible. On his belly, like a snake, he reached in the closet and pulled out a few pairs of her shoes to make an empty space in a corner.

He grunted with the exertion as he crawled inside and curled in the space he’d made, screaming again as pain ripped through his broken leg. He started sobbing.

A whimper—the sound of a wounded animal—escaped him.

Bethany watched The Healer’s actions. He had obviously forgotten about her. She didn’t understand why he struggled to reach the candles on her table nor why he crawled into her closet.

Then she heard him whimper, and she understood everything. She knew he was afraid. The one thing Bethany understood was fear.

Bethany lived outside of town, not quite halfway between Hurricane and Carlisle. The modest brick house sat on a large property with few shrubs or bushes.
No place for a burglar to hide,
Herne thought.

When he pulled into her driveway, he immediately noticed the dog, a purebred German Shepherd, barking wildly in the fenced yard. Its white teeth, bared and sharp, were almost bright in the night.

Although the sky was dark, Bethany had four exterior lights on posts outside her home. They illuminated almost the entire yard, as well as a sign that read “This House Protected By Casanov’s Security System.”
It’s amazing that Pike managed to get to someone so careful
, Herne thought.

He didn’t need to ask a professional psychologist to identify Bethany’s phobia. Her home security advertised it like a billboard.

Herne ran to the front door. Three deadbolts secured it. He jiggled the locked handle, then walked around the house, searching for easier entry.

When he reached the back, he saw light shining from the second floor. It was the only lit room in the dark house. The brightness shone through the window like a beacon.

Herne’s mind flashed to the lamps in Pike’s home. He thought about fear. He thought about darkness.

And he knew The Healer was still inside Bethany’s home.

He ran around the house, looking for a way inside. Bethany was well prepared for intruders. Even the windows were almost impenetrable. They were narrow, high off the ground, and covered with black iron bars.

Herne went back to the front door, examining the locks. He had no choice. He pulled out his .45 and started shooting them.

Pike heard the gunshots. Something must be happening. Someone had come. Someone was playing hero. But they weren’t here to rescue him. No, they were here to rescue her.

He wouldn’t be able to outrun someone. Not with his broken leg. He would be captured. Placed in solitary confinement. Locked in the dark.

He pressed his head into his hands and let out a wail.

Herne heard the noise, an almost childlike cry. He slowed his footsteps, knowing it would be foolish to underestimate The Healer at this time. It was possible—barely possible—that the Healer had issued the wail to entice him. To snare him. To make him move too quickly.

The house was dark, but moonlight and Bethany’s exterior lights illuminated the rooms. It only took a few moments for Herne’s eyes to adjust.

He glanced around at the low furniture, so minimal and sparse. The closets without doors were almost empty. They held only the barest of necessities: a broom, a vacuum cleaner, and a few small boxes.

Herne crept through the house. A predator in seek of prey. His mind searched for ways to make Pike feel vulnerable. For tactics to scare The Healer into a mistake.

Fear. Darkness.

Herne grabbed the broom from the closet and shattered the light bulbs in the room, jagged fragments of fragile glass showering the floor. When every bulb in the room had been destroyed, he started moving through the rest of the house.

Pike heard the breaking light bulbs. It was a sound he knew well. He kept a stockpile of bulbs in his own house, and he had broken a few during his lifetime. He knew the noise. Knew what was happening. Whoever was downstairs was destroying all the light.

If I have to leave this room
, Pike thought,
I’ll be forced into the darkness.

Pike wailed again, his primitive screech resonating through the house. Then he sobbed as he held the pack of matches closer to his chest.

Herne finished with the light bulbs on the ground level. He crept up the stairs, casually holding the broom in his hand. He knew The Healer was upstairs. Afraid. He could almost feel the fear pouring from Pike’s body, waves of it washing over him.

The bedroom door was open. Herne moved toward it and peeked inside, angling his body so he could see into the room without exposing himself. It was possible, Herne knew, that Pike had a gun.

He noticed that the single ceiling light was the only one in the room. Bethany was on her bed, her hands taped to the headboard. She met Herne’s gaze, and he saw fear in her brown eyes but not panic. For that he was grateful. A panicked woman would be harder to handle. Harder to save.

That’s why I’m here,
he thought.
To save a woman. To save
this
woman. I’m not here for The Healer. He is Tucker’s job. I’m here to save her.

And he almost believed it.

For just a moment Bethany thought a second person had come to kill her. The eyes of the man in her doorway looked cold and hard, like an angry god that passes judgment without mercy.

Then she saw his gaze soften when he looked at her, and hope rose in her chest.

Please let this nightmare be over,
she thought.