The Forsaken (21 page)

Move
, his thoughts commanded.
Get back to your room. You’ve seen too much!

Suddenly, the warnings of his attackers came rippling through the tides of his subconscious. He
was
the stranger. Unwelcome now when the darkest things came to have their way. There was no arguing with the truth. He never should have come here. He was stupid to come.

Only one escape: Run.

Nudging the clay door forward with a desperate creak, his pulse spiked. His movement had given away his location. He pushed his spine up against the nearest wall. As his muscles breathed and collapsed, he hoped his host had not spotted him.

Everything turned black, and the candlelight that once waved inside the darkness was made to die.

The black mist hovering above the man’s head swarmed toward Jude with a shriek that forced his eardrums to shatter. But before the hush, before the quiet, he could see a bat-like creature with hungry, red eyes sweep across the narrow space. The spirit was engulfed by the cloud, lunging forth from every corner. It dragged its wings and its claws through the damp air.

Jude could not look into the mist. For a split second he denied that it was even real.

Blink.

The creature in the mist flew closer.

Blink.

It was now only inches from his mouth.

Blink.

The darkness exploded with a blinding flash as he breathed the cold black into his lungs.

“What’s happening to me?” Jude cried as his eyes began to bleed. He tasted the blood, and at first it was a horrible flavor, unusual. New tremors then clothed him. The shaking started. The uncontrollable shaking. His vision splintered. The creature had crawled inside, and it felt as though chunks of meat were being ripped apart or rearranged. He stared up to find the witch doctor looming over him. It was funny how a man’s shadow could usher in such a quiet rage. A dull, tired heartbeat lulled behind his chest, and it carried on in a different rhythm now.

“Let it come gently,” the old man spoke. “Let it in.”

The more he strained, the weaker Jude became. Something else was breathing, walking behind red eyes.

29

RACHEL CHEWED THE TIP
of her fingernail nearly off when she saw the corpse. The stink was still filling the room. After sloppily pulling back her hair, she crossed her arms, absorbing the tormented scene all over again. That’s how her mind operated. It had to process things a number of times, categorize and organize and dissect until it made sense, until it left her with the truth.

“You’re alone, Rachel. That’s the truth.” Her mind rejected this very moment. The two truths lingered. One, Jude had taken off blindly without telling her where he was headed. And two, the numbing reality that this case was no more near getting solved than it had been days earlier when Mike had initiated the call. She cursed loudly, and as she did, she became the target of a half dozen scathing stares. Stares that seemed to have personalities insinuating she wasn’t capable of handling these matters without someone there to dot her
I
s and cross her
T
s.

But she didn’t care what these imbeciles thought. She really didn’t. This was what she had become over the last several hours.
Oh, do you really believe that, Rachel? I mean, really?
This was the sad, cutthroat skeleton she had evolved into.

It was the person she had seen her father evolve into when she was still sure she wanted his life.

“How can we stop something we can’t see?” Mike said, sliding on a pair of latex gloves.

Rachel’s pulse raced. Was she even awake?

“We’re chasing ghosts. God only knows where your partner is. If I had him here, I’d skin him alive. The nerve of that arrogant bastard. Leaves us here without even a phone call.” Mike paused. “Thought I’d deserve at least that much.”

“I hate to play devil’s advocate, Chief, but you used his brother as bait.”

“How is this happening? How does he do it?” Mike said, ignoring her. She could see the revilement breathing out of his pores. He bent over to get a close-up on the body. “How in the name of…How does he suck them dry like this?”

Rachel knew he’d gone over the scenarios in his head at least a dozen times. But he could go over the information a dozen more times, and still, nothing logical or scientific would arise. She stared at the cross etched into the upper section of the corpse’s pale thigh. It was a different, interesting location every time.

“Man, I sound like some quack in a sci-fi novel,” Mike added.

“It’s bizarre. No doubt about that. I wish I could say I’ve dealt with this in the past, but this is fresh for me, even more than it is for you. At least you’ve seen this before.”

“Yeah, a few years back. But here we are again, with more bodies and the same blank spaces.”

She studied the room once over and swore it was shrinking. “Did you get anything out of the landlady?”

Rising to her level, Mike said, “Some. She said this guy never comes up alone. Always with the parties. Said she’s been trying to get rid of him ever since he started flaking when it came to paying the rent four and a half months ago.”

He tossed the latex glove.

“Well, Smiley’s out of the picture,” Rachel chimed. “You’d think the old bat would be grateful. Instead she’s scared stiff.”

“Can you blame her?”

A shrug.

“There are some other items, though,” Mike said, pulling out a photograph from under his arm. “Our landlady managed to get a snapshot of one guy. She said she spotted him out her bathroom window. Apparently she’d seen him a few times and the dude gave her the heebie-jeebies.”

“So she photographs the freaks?”

“Leave the bored, old woman to her devices. If it helps us inch a little closer, she’s doing us a favor, that’s the way I see it. But get this, she claims the guy in the photo had eyes of blood.”

“Eyes of blood?” Rachel said, almost cracking a grin.

“Look closely. The photo was taken at night, but this man’s eyes are illuminated like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

“Right, because you never saw Victor.”

Mike sighed, almost defeated. “Still no prints, huh?”

There was a pause.

“Never thought that’d be one of those rhetorical questions.”

“At this point, I don’t even know why we’re bothering. It’s like we’re running in circles with this prick. It’s not like we’re getting anywhere.”

Did she just say that? Expressing her failures wasn’t supposed to be part of the neat and categorized equation her mind was attempting to piece together. She’d never meant for her doubt and fear to tear right out of her.

“Relax, Rachel. I know what you’re capable of. Your father—”

“Can we not?”

Mike’s face changed. Every wrinkle made itself known. Every blink was a shot fired. “Your father was very skilled at what he did. But what, do you think he never questioned anything? You think he never got scared? And you know what’s different between you and him? Not a friggin’ thing. You got his blood in you, Rachel.”

“But you said it yourself, we’re chasing a ghost.”

“Don’t use my words against me. This parasite has had his fun at our miserable expense! Time to get creative and catch him, wouldn’t you say?”

She nodded, just about sick to her stomach with all the repetitive procedure that wasn’t amounting to anything but more confusion and anxiety.
Just hold back the frustrated tears, Rachel. You’re good at
that
. You can do
that!

“Pick yourself up outta the mud, girl. I already got one loose cannon on my hands.”

“You made your point!” she grumbled.

“All right. I’m being a hard case because I know you can do this. But I need you to be sharp.”

Rachel felt a cough coating the back of her throat. It made her want to scream
phony!
to her boss so all the world could hear, but she respected Mike too much to call him out. Nevertheless, she knew, maybe more than anyone, that he was equally as scared and aching with doubt as she was.

“This was tied to the victim’s neck,” Mike said, handing her a new piece of the puzzle.

She took the tattered page with almost no emotion and whispered the fine print slowly:

I will purge thy iniquity and take away thy sin.

Another Bible verse, she surmised. Another blood-stained letter. One of the
E
s glistened. Shivers danced up her spine. She gave it back to the chief, and he once more circled the perimeter.

As the forensics team dissected the room, hoping to find answers or buried prints, all Rachel could do was worry about her partner and wonder why he hadn’t said anything before running. The way she saw it, it wasn’t right, and it didn’t make any sense to leave in the middle of an investigation. But where most people would be offended—infuriated—she mostly felt excluded. What did he have to hide from her? Where had he run to? And would he come back?

The landlady had been little more than a picture frame this last half hour; the chief was the only one to have even acknowledged her presence in the room. But the picture now moved, skulking around and stealing snapshots whenever possible. Rachel wondered what kind of sick woman would want pictures of the dead.

Mike was across the room when Rachel’s eyes changed targets. He was a little different from Snapshot Lady. Another painting, perhaps. Only his movements were brushed more rigidly, and for the duration of one breath, she imagined what it might’ve been like to work alongside him all those years ago, like her father had.
Things are different now, Rachel. You’re not working alongside him. You’re under him. If only you’d stayed…If only you hadn’t answered the call…

Her body sucked in another stifling breath.

…You’d still be unfulfilled and empty. There’s no changing that. There’s a hole in your chest, and you can’t fill it, not even if you wanted to.

But this corpse wasn’t filling it either.

“What’s the matter, Sutherland?” Whitney’s depleted tone of voice ripped her away from the stabbing thoughts.

“Nothing. I can handle it.”

“Not so sure. You see, I think you need someone to help you. Someone who’s gonna take care of you, make you feel safe.”

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

“Right. Big girl,” he sneered. “Man, if it’s one thing that really rubs me the wrong way, it’s people who hide behind secrets and lies.”

“What are you insinuating? I’m not hiding behind anything.”

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about you, but of course, you don’t know, do you? You are unbelievably naïve. I’m talking about Jude Foster, your white knight.” He spoke in a whisper, and she assumed it was to avoid drawing attention from other vultures in the room. “He’s full of secrets. As his partner, don’t you think you should know about some of ’em?”

“Enough with the games, Whitney!”

“It’s nothing too bad, I don’t think, but before he mysteriously ran off with his tail between his legs, I witnessed him walk into a closed crime scene. The old cathedral about fifteen minutes north of here, where he went to hunt down his ex-partner. It wasn’t too long ago, if my memory serves me correctly. Odd that he would keep something as trivial a detail as that away from you.”

“He was probably just trying to speed this case up. We both have a lot to chew on ever since this all started.”

“Is that the best you got? Pretty, smart girl like you? That church has been vacant since Jude was left for dead. Some think it’s cursed. After all, Jude was barely breathing when we dragged him outta there. But he probably didn’t tell you that, did he? Stabbed in the gut, real nice job.”

Rachel could smell the garlic and onions on his breath. She felt her cheeks flush as he leaned in even more.

“What did he find in there, I wonder, that made him go lickety split, leave you here all alone?”

No reply.

“Guy like him revisiting a crime scene, walking right back into the lion’s den like that? Tsk-tsk. The past is usually full of nasty little skeletons. But your partner was walking around in there in the middle of the night, like he belonged there or something. Does that cry
reason
to you?”

“Enough, Whitney. He’s been through a lot. The last thing either of us needs is a bad rumor.”

“Whoa. It’s
us
now? Move pretty quick, don’t you?”

“There is something seriously wrong with you. Get outta my face.”

He circled her, eyeing every angle of her body. “You ever feel like the world’s closing in on you? Like you can’t even breathe?”

“It’s no wonder Jude hates you. You’re pathetic and juvenile.”

“You’re fighting it. Come on, admit it. You know none of this is procedure. And it’s a real thorn in my side that such an arrogant fool keeps getting away with playing by his own rules.”

“After everything you’ve just said, you wanna know what’s strangest of all?”

“What’s that?” he said.