You Can't Escape (33 page)

The phone went dead. He slipped it back in his jacket pocket, then turned to the dead girl. He knew he should be careful of touching her, careful to keep her sickness away from him, but she was too much like Emily for him to feel any repulsion.

The brazier threw orange shadows on her white skin. Slowly, he pulled the glowing iron from the fire. Propping up her hip with his hand, he pressed the cross upside down against her flesh, smelling the sweet, burned scent of seared meat.

Saying a quick prayer, he heaved her over his shoulder, tossed her limp body into the passenger seat, then drove back to the plot where Bernadette was, her temporary resting spot. Pulling her from the back of the truck, he carried her to the pit and rolled her into the muddy water with a splash. Rain came steadily down, running off the brim of his cowboy hat and onto her dirt-splattered body. He felt a weight on his soul. It was easier to kill men, even ones he liked.

Picking up the shovel, he covered Kara with dirt, making her disappear from view as he had Bernadette. He wanted to pat down his work and toss some branches over the makeshift grave, but the rain was making it difficult. There were three bodies here. Bernie, Kara, and the mean bitch who’d sired him. There should have been four, but when he was moving the fool who’d wandered onto their property, his body had fallen out of the back of the truck, landing on the side of the road outside the old cemetery, where he’d meant to bury him with his kin. When he’d realized what happened, he’d started to reverse, but then he’d seen headlights flash on through the trees that surrounded the cemetery. Someone had been there.

Instead, he’d moved his truck farther up the road and had sneaked back on foot. He’d been disgusted to see their car rock and hear their muffled groans and giggles as they giggled and fornicated like rabid vermin. He’d planned to pick up the body when he left, but all of a sudden their car engine was revving and he had to dive into the underbrush, smacking his head on a limb. As soon as they were gone he staggered back to his vehicle, dizzy and nauseous, and drove home. He vomited twice and slept like the dead and didn’t remember the body. Later, when he told her about it, she told him he’d had a concussion and was infuriated with him, but by that time Zach Benchley had discovered the body.

He’d worried that maybe the kids in the car had seen him, but that wasn’t the case. And then no one remembered who the body was anyway. Called him homeless. God’s will again, protecting him. She said they were lucky that the chief had decided to keep the branding a secret, though it kinda got out anyway. Didn’t matter. He’d done God’s work, and unburdened the souls of the afflicted.

Bernie, young Bernadette, had been much harder for him. But he’d seen her wild rolling eyes and known of her promiscuous ways. She’d been fucking Chase for months before he finally understood that she was another of Lucifer’s children. He’d caught them in the act, and that’s when he’d had to burn the devil out of her and save her soul. Someday, he would put her corporal remains back with her kin, where they needed to be, and he would add the Treadwells, too.

Throwing the shovel in the back of the truck, he then jumped back inside. The youngest Treadwell woman had been a bonus, but he needed to concentrate on the last sister now. He’d seen her with that man with the limp. She was probably fucking him, among others. That’s what Treadwells were like.

He hadn’t liked being told what to do, but she was right: Jordanna Treadwell needed to be saved and soon. With her younger sister gone, Jordanna was the last of child-bearing age, and above all else, Treadwells could not be allowed to procreate.

It had to end with Jordanna.

Chapter Twenty

Dance lay on the blow-up bed, tucked up against Jordanna, one arm wrapped around her naked body. It was early, still dark, but he could make out the line of her nape. It was strange. He felt like he’d been sleeping with her forever, and he sure as hell didn’t want it to stop.

She’d been quiet when they’d returned the night before, her eyes looking bruised. She’d hung in there at the Longhorn, but then he could practically see her energy wash away. He’d understood completely, even before she’d said, “There
was
a woman’s body there.”

“Write it down,” he’d told her.

“Somebody knew I was there, and they moved it.”

“You’ve got a story. The missing body, the reluctant police force, your own history with this town . . . write it up.”

“My own history,” she repeated with an ironic twist of her lips.

For a moment he’d thought she was going to ignore him, but then she’d seemed to catch fire. She’d switched on her laptop, opened a Word document, and started writing. Her style was more descriptive than his own straight, terse journalism, so initially he offered editing changes. Her steel spine returned, however, and she started fighting for her words, which he took as a good sign.

He’d left her to it, knowing how often writing had helped organize his own thoughts, forcing him to list events and information in a logical progression. He’d headed to the kitchen and heated up some instant coffee in the microwave, his thoughts turning to the Saldanos, knowing it was time to go to the police with the audiotape. Not the cops here in Rock Springs—like Jordanna, he didn’t truly trust their efficiency, maybe even their honesty. No, it was time to go back to Portland.

He’d returned to the living room, aware this could be his last night, struck by a feeling of loss already as he looked at Jordanna, her face illuminated by the light coming off her laptop screen. Aware of him, she’d glanced up, meeting his gaze, and said, “It’s rough, but I’ve got a lot of it down. Somebody saw me and moved the body. I don’t know why it was there in the first place, but I disturbed them. How did he see me?”

“He was there and you didn’t know it?” he’d suggested. “Nearby, anyway.”

She hadn’t liked the sound of that. “Does he live around there? Zach said Mrs. Fowler was old. He didn’t act like anyone lived with her.”

“One of the neighbors?”

“We’re one of the neighbors,” she’d reminded him. “But I don’t know the rest of them. This land was all Benchley land once, and they were the ones who built the cemetery. I saw some of the names on the crosses.”

“You need to talk to Mrs. Fowler,” he’d told her, seating himself down beside her on the couch.

She’d written a few more words, but he could tell his proximity distracted her. “What are you doing?” she’d asked slowly, but he’d quelled the smile in her voice by saying, “I’m going to take the audiotape to the police.”

“You do think it’s why Saldano Industries was bombed, then?” She’d sounded faintly surprised, because he’d dismissed that notion from the outset.

“I haven’t changed my mind. The tape only alludes to possible smuggling of an unnamed something. It may not be the Saldanos behind the smuggling. That’s why I gave a copy to Max, so he could figure it out internally.”

“Thought you’d started to believe they weren’t on the up-and-up.”

“I was doing some checking behind the scenes,” he’d admitted. “I knew something was off. Then the bombing, the hospital . . . and you showed up. I probably should have gone to the police immediately, but I have a tendency to not trust them.”

“We have that in common,” she’d said, and he’d leaned in and kissed her, wanting her in a way he hadn’t wanted anything in a long time. After that, they’d fallen into each other’s arms and stumbled their way to his room, making love twice before falling asleep.

Now, he wanted to make love to her again. It was crazy. Too many years with Carmen, who was all heat and fire and anger and not enough true connection. He hadn’t even realized what he was missing until yesterday.

Jordanna stirred in his arms, slowly turning to face him. He couldn’t see her expression in the dark.

“When do you want me to drive you back to Portland?” she asked.

“Tomorrow’s fine.”

“So that gives us today.”

He heard the echo of his own feelings, of not wanting their time together to end. “Yeah.”

“You’re going to let them all know where you are.”

He didn’t know how to tell her he felt less vulnerable now, less out of control. She’d extracted him from a volatile situation that he hadn’t been strong enough to handle, but it went against his nature to hide out for long.

“I need to show my face to the Saldanos” was his answer. Hers was to wrap herself around him one more time and make love to him with a thread of desperation that he answered in kind.

Auggie rolled over in bed and reached an arm out for Liv, but she was already out of bed. He groaned and buried his head beneath his pillow. He was working a case that wasn’t really his anymore, and he’d already been told that he couldn’t “harass” the Saldanos any longer.

His lieutenant had called him late Saturday evening. A weekend phone call was unlikely to be about something positive, and when he answered and heard, “What are you doing, Rafferty?” he knew it was about the Saldanos.

He’d tried to plead his case. Yes, the feds had taken over, but he was following another lead. He just needed a little more time.

“I’d like you to go undercover on another case,” Lieutenant Cawthorne had answered when he finished.

“I’d like to stay on this one,” he’d stubbornly replied.

And that’s when Cawthorne said, “Victor Saldano called Captain Jarvis and complained about you. Agent Bethwick had some things to say, too, and the words ‘budget cuts’ were tossed about. Your record’s good, but it’s getting political around here. If you want me to go to bat for you, you gotta stop being a maverick.”

Auggie hadn’t known quite how to answer. He’d worked undercover for the Portland PD on a number of cases. He’d been recruited from Laurelton PD for just that kind of work. But meeting Liv had changed what he wanted to do. Undercover work meant all hours, all the time. Taking on a new persona. Living a double life. Always the threat of danger. Being outside of so-called normal life.

What he really wanted to do now was straight homicide investigation. He wanted to go after the Saldanos. Something was off there. And the fact that they’d called and complained about him said he was on the right track.

“I kinda like being a maverick,” he told his boss, whose answer was a sigh and then, “Be ready for a new assignment on Monday.”

Now, he heard his cell phone ring and ignored it. He had all day today to decide just how he was going to play this. Let ’em leave a voice mail.

A moment later, Liv’s phone began playing a tune that he knew was the ring she’d chosen for his sister. He didn’t have special ring tones for anyone, so it was a good bet Nine had called him first, then phoned Liv when he hadn’t answered.

He heard a muffled cry of delight, then Liv’s footsteps as she flew into the bedroom. He pulled the pillow off his head and looked at her expectantly.

“That was Nine. July’s in labor,” she said. “Nine’s already on her way, so get up and let’s go.”

“To the hospital?” Auggie asked.

“Yes, sir. We gotta move.”

He watched as the woman he loved hurried around the bedroom, on a kind of natural high. Though it was his older sister who was delivering, he wasn’t experiencing the same excitement. Now, if it had been Nine, he supposed he would feel differently, but in truth, he was detached and fairly certain he was going to feel like a caged lion if he was forced to stand around a hospital and wait for his niece’s birth.

If he were following a suspect, he could exhibit the patience of Job, but when it came to family . . .

“How about I drop you off?” he suggested.

Liv turned and gave him a long look. She had challenges within her own family: her mother had died when she was a child, and her brother had long-term mental issues that caused him to fade in and out of reality. Liv, herself, had spent a chunk of her youth being scrutinized by mental health professionals and had learned never to trust anyone in authority.

“You don’t want to go,” she said.

“Doesn’t this take hours?” He thought about it a moment and said, “It’s the thirty-first.”

Liv registered that and said, “If she doesn’t have the baby today, then maybe she’ll be named June instead of May?”

“Or, maybe July’ll break tradition and pick some other name for the poor kid. Like Bertha, or Gertrude. That would be the sane thing to do.” Auggie threw back the covers.

“So, are we going?” She turned toward the closet, but then squeaked with surprise when he grabbed her around the waist. He began gnawing at her neck and she started laughing and swatted at the arms surrounding her. “Stop it!”

“I’m going to eat you alive.”

“Let go of me.”

“No.” He pressed his face into her neck and said, “I’ll go. We’ll do the baby thing.”

“You don’t—”

“Shhh.” He moved to the curve of her collarbone, nibbling gently. “But if it takes hours and hours, I’m out of there.”

She turned in his arms and pressed her nose to his. “Are you still thinking of going to Rock Springs?”

“Only if I want to commit professional suicide. So, maybe.”

“You haven’t been able to get through to them?”

She meant Jordanna Winters and Jay Danziger, whom he’d called on both their cells. “No. I could call Winters’s father and play my hand. I get the feeling they’re hiding out.”

She pulled back to look at him. “What do you want to do?”

The Saldano case. But it might mean the end of his job if he pursued it. “I’m dying to get to the hospital and hang out in the waiting room. That’s what I want to do, so stop trying to hold me back.”

Jordanna met Dance in the hallway, her hair still wet from her shower. Light was just filtering in through the sheer curtains, the sun having crested the mountains moments before. Dance, too, had damp hair, and he’d shaved the scruffy beard that had been building over the last few days, much to her regret. He looked more like a stranger now. She’d dressed in clean jeans, a black, lightweight sweater, and sneakers. He wore black sweatpants and a gray, long-sleeved T-shirt with a Nike swoosh stitched in white, and he was just putting on a darker gray hoodie.