Rock Harbor Series - 04 - Abomination (38 page)

The dog sniffed the air, then started back the way they’d come. “The other way, Samson,” Bree told him. “Backtrack.”

The dog stopped and looked at her, his dark eyes hesitant. “This is something new for him,” she told Nick.

Great. Eve’s life was dependent on the dog learning something new. Nick was tempted to strike off on his own. “Which direction was he walking from?”

“We don’t know. He was sitting when we found him.” Bree took the dog’s head in her hands. “You can do it, Samson. Back. Where did he walk from? Go the other way.”

Samson nosed around the fallen log, then took off east and north of his original heading. “I think he’s on to something,” Nick said.

“Yes, I think so.”

They ran after the dog, but he quickly paused to nose some wildflowers. “He still doesn’t understand,” Bree said. “He wants to follow the freshest scent because that’s the way he’s been trained.”

They tromped all afternoon. Kade brought them sandwiches and Oliver’s scent, then returned to the sheriff’s office to check on the progress of the other searchers. Nick almost went back with him. This felt like a total waste of time. Eve probably wasn’t even in the woods. It was hard to say where Oliver had taken her. They could be back in Cheboygan for all he knew.

He rubbed his burning eyes. His fight against despair grew more and more feeble. Eve had been gone now nearly twenty-four hours. What were the chances she was still alive? Oliver had shown no mercy to any other woman. He would be unlikely to show any to the woman he hated most in the world.

Even in the daytime hours, the deep woods never got brighter than twilight. Dark clouds had begun to cover the sun, and the shadows lengthened. Every tree seemed to hide a figure watching them, though Nick knew it was his imagination.

He and Bree rested in a meadow. Lying back with his hand over his eyes, he wished he could sleep, then wake up to find out it had all been a nightmare. The odor of mud, crushed grass, and wildflowers lulled him, and his eyes closed, then he jerked awake. He couldn’t sleep, no matter how tired he was. Eve was depending on him.

He lurched to his feet and wished he didn’t have to awaken Bree, but he didn’t know how to work with Samson. Kneeling, he shook her shoulder gently, and she came instantly awake.

“Let’s go,” she said.

They took off again. Even though they walked for hours, evening surprised him when it fell. They stopped to let Samson rest, and Nick heard a vehicle moving slowly down the lane. They stayed on the ground where they rested and watched its approach. It was Kade’s truck. He pulled it to the side of the road and got out.

“I brought some food,” Kade said.

Nick realized he was ravenous. “Thanks,” he said.

The night sounds echoed around him. Crickets chirped, and an owl hooted overhead. The wind in the treetops brought the scent of pine to his nose.

Bree got up and hugged her husband. “You’re a lifesaver.” The dog yawned and stretched, then stood. “Any news?” Bree asked.

“No.” Kade put his arm around her. “Naomi came back to town. She and Charley are exhausted and never did get a trail.”

“How are the kids?” Nick asked.

“Fine. Still with Anu.”

Bree glanced down at her dog. “He’s rested some. Maybe he’ll get it.” She dug in her bag and pulled out three bags. “We’ll let him sniff all of them. Maybe he’ll get a whiff of Eve or Dad.”

Samson sniffed each bag. His head came up.

“Search, Samson,” Bree said without much hope in her voice.

The dog moved around the clearing. He stopped and sampled the air again. His tail began to wag, and his ears came up. He leaped across a patch of wildflowers and headed south, away from the place they had found Bernard.

“He’s got a scent!” Bree shouted.

Fresh strength flowed through Nick’s muscles, and he sprang after the dog.

EVE COULDN’T FIGURE OUT WHAT OLIVER WAS WAITING FOR. The day had been strange in the extreme. He’d wheeled his wife into the cabin, then left them to do something outside.

She gazed down into Miranda’s face. The room was so dark she could barely make out the woman’s face, but everything about her was etched in Eve’s memory by now.

There was little resemblance of the lovely young woman she’d once been. Her hair was thin and dry now, lying almost without color on the pillow. Her sallow skin didn’t have a hint of the pink it used to. She was so gaunt that she barely raised the sheet from the gurney.

Worst of all, her face was pitted with deep scars. Her mouth twisted in a hideous grimace.

And it was all Eve’s fault.

“I’m sorry, Miranda,” she whispered. “You don’t know how sorry I am. There was no excuse, but I was young and blind.”

She approached the gurney, wishing she could make amends. Miranda hadn’t stirred since Oliver brought her in. Eve touched her hand, then snatched it away. It was cold, so cold. Could Miranda be dead?

Eve shuddered and told herself it wasn’t possible.

Eve tried not to imagine—in graphic detail—what Oliver intended to do to her. Reading Dante’s
Divine Comedy
had left her nightmare-ridden for a week when she was nineteen. He’d be sure to make it as painful as possible.

She heard him coming and turned to face the door. Metal to metal, the key grated in the door, then it creaked open and allowed the light from the lantern he held aloft to spill into the room.

He was smiling.

The expression made her feel worse. Blood pulsed in her throat, and she vowed she wouldn’t make it easy for him. Whatever he planned was outside, and she intended to take any opportunity to escape. Better to die trying than to just let him have his little game.

Oliver approached the gurney that held his wife. “How are you, my dear?” He didn’t wait for an answer but opened the door and wheeled her out.

Eve sprang to her feet. She intended to try to squeeze through the doorway, but he slammed and locked the door before she could.

“Are you so eager to begin? How self-sacrificing.” The door muted the words.

The rattle of the gurney as it passed around the side of the cabin was muffled by the cabin walls, but Eve was able to track their progress. When the noise reached the back, she stepped to the window and looked out to see him lift his wife from the gurney and lay her in a boat. Miranda seemed strangely stiff. He stepped into the craft, and the sound of the motor started.

Miranda had died. Eve was sure of it. She tried to remember what she’d heard about rigor mortis. Didn’t it start about three hours after death? Miranda wasn’t fully stiff yet, so maybe she’d been dead about that long.

Eve watched him guide the boat out across the water toward the tiny island in the middle.

The swans trumpeted and flapped their wings to signal their protest as the boat passed, but they didn’t fly away. Instead, they swam toward Oliver, and he threw them bits of a sandwich.

Eve guessed it was a peanut butter sandwich.

She lost sight of him, and it seemed like forever before she heard the sound of the boat returning. When the boat docked, he looked up and saw her staring out the window and gave a jaunty wave. Still smiling, he approached the cabin and disappeared around the side.

Waiting for his key to scrape in the lock again, she felt nearly faint. When the wait had gone on longer than expected, she darted to the window and saw him exiting the van with a soft suitcase.

She grabbed up the chair and hefted it over her head. The key rattled in the lock, and he entered the cabin. Using all her strength, she swung the chair at his head.

He leaped out of the way and knocked it out of her hand with the smile still in place. He tossed her the small satchel. “Put that on.”

Shaking her head, she backed away.

“You would rather I kill you now?” With a casual gesture, he showed her the knife in his hand.

She shrank back with her eyes on the blade. She had no doubt he knew how to use it. “I can’t change with you in here.”

“Five minutes.” He went to the door and locked it behind him.

Her only chance was to get outside this cabin. Eve knelt and unzipped the satchel. What a strange-looking getup. She touched the brown garment and realized it was a gown made of some incredibly rough, greasy cloth that scratched her fingers when she touched it.

A haircloth, just like Dante’s sinners wore.

Dropping the gown, she shuddered and rubbed her palms on her jeans. The thing was nasty. What was she going to do? She couldn’t put it on.

But he’d make her.

Either she could do it willingly and with courage, or he’d kill her here and now. While there was life, there was hope. Shucking off her jeans and shirt, she picked up the oily cloth and dropped it over her head. The material itched and irritated.

She missed hearing Oliver’s entrance until he was right behind her.

“Shall we go?” He wrapped a rope around her wrists and began to tie her up.

She flexed her wrists as much as she could as he secured her hands behind her, then he took her arm in a tight grip and marched her outside.

Eve stumbled over the rough ground as he pushed her. The night air had never tasted so fresh. He forced her into the boat and cuffed her to a mooring cleat. Without another word, he stepped in and pushed the boat into the lake. He started the motor, then guided it toward the island, overgrown and wild. Eve watched its approach. Her bare arms pebbled with goose bumps. Working the ropes, she felt them give a little.

The swans swam to meet them. Digging into a bag on the bottom of the boat, Gideon began to throw bits of peanut butter sandwiches all around in the water. They flocked to the food.

Eve couldn’t see the water because of the birds. There had to be hundreds of them.

He switched off the motor and threw an anchor overboard before stepping into the water and dragging the boat ashore.

“What are you going to do?” Eve’s voice trembled. “Why am I dressed like this if you’re going to blind me and take my face?”

He unlocked the cuffs and tossed them into the pond. His face was set but serene, and he didn’t seem to be listening.

“I know
sorry
isn’t good enough, Oliver, but I really am sorry. I was young and stupid. If only I could do it all over again.” She remembered that night like it was yesterday.

She heard the music, saw herself imitating the intricate steps she’d seen Miranda perform in practice, a routine Miranda had choreographed herself. It had been so natural to steal the steps she admired. Eve almost didn’t realize she’d done it until the crowd was on its feet, cheering.

Eve would never forget the look on Miranda’s face when she started her own performance.

Moments later, Miranda lost her balance and fell headfirst from the stage into the lights. Then her clothes had burst into flames. Eve shuddered at the memory.

“You stole Miranda’s dance steps. She could only compensate for it by trying something daring and different. Something dangerous.” He stood on the bank, pointing his finger at her. “You brought this on yourself.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But why now, after all these years?”

“The first years we spent going from doctor to doctor. With every one who told me there was nothing he could do, my hatred of you grew. For solace, I turned to learning, to seeking the truth. The truth is that pain shapes us. Even Miranda. She’ll be stronger for all this. But she’s suffered long enough. Now it’s your turn to be educated. And her turn to have a new face.”

He grabbed her arm, hauled her out of the boat, then propelled her to the cabin that squatted in the center of the tiny circle of land that wasn’t much bigger than the building.

She fought him, trying to bite him, to kick him, but her struggles were futile with her hands tied behind her. He thrust open the door and dragged her inside. Music blared from speakers, and bright lights shocked her unadjusted eyes. She shuddered at the music—“Black Swan Pas de Deux.”

Blinking in the bright wash of light, she stood swaying in the middle of the room while he shut and locked the door. In the Swan Queen’s white costume, Miranda lay on what looked like an operating table under the lights. Other medical equipment flanked the room.

Her gaze went to the table holding a big sewing needle and wire. Her stomach cramped, and she nearly doubled over. He was ready to inflict plenty of pain.

Oliver went to the metal table and picked up the needle and wire. His smile seemed easy and relaxed.

The needle’s evil glint drew Eve’s attention. “You don’t know how to transplant a face,” she whispered. “You’ll kill Miranda as well as me.” Her gaze went to the other woman. There was now no doubt in her mind that Miranda had died already. Should she tell Oliver, or would it inflame him more?

“I went to medical school, you know,” he said. “And I’ve extensively studied the procedure. She’ll die anyway if I don’t try. She has leukemia.”

She might as well go for it. Eve nodded to the gurney. “She’s dead already, Oliver. Look at her. You killed her by taking her from care.”

His eyes flashed. “Your lies won’t work. Miranda will live and love me again.”

Eve backed away as he came toward her. Twisting her wrists in the ropes, she felt them give more. If she could keep him talking until she got her hands free, she had a chance. “Why did you take the other women if you wanted me?”

“Ballerinas should be above reproach. Gifted with so much beauty and grace, you should guard your morals. When I found one who fell, I removed her.”

She knew she had to tread carefully. Goad him enough to keep him talking and explaining himself without pushing him over the edge.

“But they’re all blonde like me. And Miranda. I think you like killing. You justify your urges by telling yourself you were ordained to preserve the ballet’s status, but it’s not true.”

His smile faltered. “That’s not true. I have a mission.”

“What happens when I’m dead? Will you keep watching for more blonde ballerinas to kill? I think you will. I don’t think it’s about Miranda at all. It’s about you.”

He was shaking his head, coming nearer with the wicked needle and wire.

She wrenched her wrists so hard that pain radiated up to her shoulder. One hand slid out of the rope, then the other. She was free! Still backing away, she calculated her opportunity. He’d locked the door, so she needed time to get it unlocked and open.