Chapter Thirty-Nine
The truck was empty. River slid his hand across a corner of the hood, the metal warm beneath his fingertips. He scanned the surrounding area and almost missed the scrubby trail the kidnapper must have dragged Becca along. They can’t have gotten too far.
“Where are they?” Vicki moved next to him, her voice low.
He gestured at the path. “That way.”
A jagged cry split the night and terminated with an abruptness that sent chills crawling along his skin. Could it have been a night creature living in the area, perhaps one of those huge cranes that favored the marsh? Grimacing, he tightened his grip on the pistol. Damn, but it sure as hell sounded human. And it came from the direction the kidnapper took.
“Becca!” The whispered word ripped from Vicki’s throat as she rushed past him toward the path. She dived through the narrow opening afforded by the tangled growth and disappeared.
Damn it!
River tore through the brush, snapping twigs and shuddering branches announcing his arrival to anyone nearby. But stealth was the least of his concerns. Vicki’s decision to run in the direction of the scream might change an already tenuous situation into something volatile. He couldn’t let that happen.
Half a dozen yards down the trail, he grabbed her arm, yanking her up short. “What the hell?” he growled.
She stared at him, eyes wild with frenzy.
“We’ll get her.” River appreciated the loyalty to her friend, but they needed to be smart. He held up his gun for her to see. “Just let me do my job.”
“Sorry,” she whispered. Her focus drifted farther down the trail. “I just…I don’t know. Lost it.”
“I understand.” He released her arm and urged her to the side. “Just stay behind me.”
River pushed ahead, moving faster than he should have over the rutted path. In tandem, they skirted exposed roots and muddy puddles hindering their progress. A few yards later, the right side of the trail opened up to the edge of the marsh.
The ocean breeze swept over the reeds and tall grasses spanning from the bank, out to a wide, winding river, and moonlight played on the dancing tips of the thick vegetation. Chirps and croaks created a chorus, the song an ode to the moon while tree trunks creaked beneath the weight of the wind, their whispering needles and chaffing branches a soft applause to Mother Nature’s music. From the throat of some unseen creature, an eerie moan wafted into the night, crooning loneliness and longing. And in the distance, a tympani roll of thunder alluded to the fact nothing ever remained the same.
He lifted his eyes skyward in search of rain clouds but found the moon, bright and unencumbered, along with a smattering of glittering stars. If a storm approached, it lay on a horizon he couldn’t see.
“River.” Vicki’s breathy gasp drew his attention. She squeezed his shoulder then pointed toward a clearing ahead.
With the trail open to the marsh and moonbeams shining down like a spotlight, a sense of exposure compelled him to move into the shadows. The kidnapper might be at the end of the trail, and in order to rescue Becca, River wanted to remain undetected for as long as possible. While they crept along the edge of the path, he swiveled his head about, searching the shadows.
Stopping beneath a large oak, he dropped to one knee. Before Vicki could question, he yanked her down next to him. The clearing lay just ahead. He tensed, prepared for her attempted bolt.
“Oh my God.” Her whisper cracked with emotion. Her eyes rounded with fear. “It’s…it’s…I thought….”
After a quick scan of the area, he took her hand. “I know. It looks really similar.” Who am I kidding? Add a table and a few more candles, and it’s laid out just like the dining room where Vicki barely escaped becoming Kent’s next sacrifice.
A shudder rippled through her, and she moved closer to him—whether for warmth or protection, he didn’t know. “Becca?”
Her real question rang clear in the single word. Is her best friend still alive, or are we too late?
“Stay here.” He gave her hand a meaningful squeeze. Hunched over, he shuffled out into the open, his gun ready for use. As he moved forward, he turned in a slow pirouette, searching the shadows. His ears strained for the slightest hint of a sound that didn’t blend with the humming marsh.
Nothing moved. No shouts, no crazed attacks. No bullets whizzing past his head.
River knelt on the spongy ground. The marsh at his back, he faced the woods. To his right lay a secluded beach that might have been a prime location for a lovers’ tryst or place for bird watchers to take up residence.
In the center of the sandy spot, the kidnapper had deposited Becca, tethering her hands and feet to stakes hammered into the sand. Her feet bare and shirt sliced open, she lay on her back, motionless. Two dozen candles littered the area, their flames adding to the shifting shadows and River’s anxiety.
He glanced toward Vicki, who waited where he’d left her in the shadows beneath the tree. The thought of risking her life brought bile into his throat, but he couldn’t untie Becca and watch for the kidnapper at the same time. With a quick jerk of his hand, he waved her over.
She scurried from the shadows, rushed past him, her purse bumping the side of her thigh, and fell to her knees at her friend’s side. She laid fingers to a pale wrist. “She’s alive.”
Hope rushed through him. “Soon as you get her untied, we’re out of here.”
Vicki loosened the knots on Becca’s wrists then moved to her friend’s feet. Concentration furrowed her brow as her nimble fingers worked the rope.
A gunshot cracked the air.
Leaping to his feet, River crossed the distance to Vicki in three long strides. His body crashed into hers, the impact knocking the breath from her. Weapon in hand, finger on the trigger, he scanned the trees and underbrush.
The gentle rustle of pine needles persisted in an otherwise silent marsh. Thunder grumbled somewhere over the water, though it sounded nearer.
A second shot rang out.
He pressed himself over Vicki. That one was close.
River’s heart hammered so hard he wouldn’t have been surprised if Vicki felt it pounding against her back. He lifted his head. The brush at the far end of the clearing shook. Did the kidnapper decide to move in for a better shot?
River raised his gun. And aimed.
* * *
“River?” A linebacker of a figure stepped from the shadows.
Squinting, Vicki tried to shift for a better view. A moment later, Detective Dauscher stumbled from the underbrush, gun in hand.
“You okay?” He hurried toward them.
“Thank God you’re here.” She pushed River and squirmed free. Crawling over the sand, she went back to work on the knot she’d almost undone. “Becca’s still alive, but her breathing seems shallow. We need to get her to a hospital. No telling what that jerk did to her.”
River rose to his feet. “Was that you firing out there?”
Dauscher nodded and gestured toward the trees. “Came around through the woods. Stumbled through more than one puddle of muck, but I managed to catch the bastard hiding, like he was waiting for you or something. Stepped on a damned branch, and all hell broke loose.”
“Coming to our rescue again.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Theodore. Don’t suppose you happened to wing him?”
“No, damn it. Bastard was too fast.” The large man stared at Vicki while she untied the final knot. “You need me to carry her to the car?”
“Thanks, but I’ve got her.” River grasped Becca’s hands, pulled her from the ground, and lifted her limp body over his shoulder in a firefighter’s carry. He turned to his partner. “You think he’s still out there?”
“Yeah.” His mouth thinned. “Out there watching.”
River gave a curt nod. “Let me get Becca to the car then I’ll come back and we’ll hunt him down.”
The matter-of-fact manner in which he made the statement prompted Vicki’s chest to tighten. Does he expect me to leave him in the middle of nowhere to track a crazed kidnapper? But before she could speak, he gripped her arm and urged her toward the trail leading to the car.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” he called over his shoulder. “Stay alert, Theo.”
“Will do.”
Vicki struggled to keep up with River. He took long strides over ground he’d taken great care with on the way in. An exposed root snagged the toe of her shoe, and she stumbled.
“Slow down.” She scrambled to his side and slogged through a puddle. “I know you don’t want to leave your partner out there alone too long, but if you break a leg, I’ll be driving both you and Becca to the hospital.”
“Hurry.” His gruff tone carried immediacy. He pushed ahead, and she trailed after him, water squishing from her soaked shoe with each step.
Through an opening in the trees, the moonlight exposed Becca’s unconscious form over River’s shoulder. Her gleaming waves of ebony locks undulated with his hurried movement. Her arms swayed back and forth, a rhythmic chinking from the many bracelets on her wrist keeping time with his long strides.
Thankfulness swelled in Vicki’s heart. The night before, a madman had almost sacrificed her. Tonight, her best friend had been kidnapped but found alive. There was a lot to be grateful for. But as she ducked through the brambles, she found herself grinding her teeth.
One thing bothered her. One irritating fact that no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, the damn thing wouldn’t let go.
Becca’s last symbol.
The pointed capital D tied Becca and Lenny to the killer. Except the killer’s dead. So the kidnapping is random and has nothing to do with what happened last night?
River laid Becca into the backseat of the Malibu and closed the door. Without hesitation, he strode to the rear of the car and opened the trunk. A light inside flickered on and, for a moment, illuminated the grim draw of his mouth, his furrowed brow, and glinted within his indomitable eyes. Then he bent over, disappearing behind the contoured trunk lid.
“What are you doing?” She joined him at his side. Fear for his safety writhed inside her. He meant to chase after the guy who’d kidnapped Becca. Through unfamiliar woods and marsh. In the dark. With a storm threatening on the horizon.
“Getting this.” He removed a green backpack from a box and hoisted it over his shoulder.
“What’s that?”
“A special pack from Lenny.” He closed the trunk and turned toward her. “It’s a demon-hunting kit.”
Shock jolted through her. “A what?”
“Please don’t make me say it again.” The timber of his voice was deep and dark, and his gaze hardened.
“Okay.” A ripple of fear grazed her spine, sent chills down her arms. She peered through the window to where Becca lay unconscious on the backseat and realized the nagging question about her friend’s attack had been answered.
“When we walked onto the patch of sand, found Becca tied up and surrounded with all those candles….” He wiped his hand over his face and looked toward the trailhead. “Whatever was inside Jamie, that thing calling itself Kent, it found its way into someone else somehow.” He shook his head, his eyes filled with a jumble of worry, fear, and anger. “I don’t know. It’s way beyond my level of understanding. All I know is it’s not over. So, I’m taking the kit Lenny put together, and I’m going to try to end this thing once and for all.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but River grabbed her arms and pulled her into a rough embrace. Dipping his head, he captured her mouth with his. The unexpected contact sent a rush of warm emotions coursing through her body, but concern for his safety eclipsed the sensation.
The kiss ended, and he set her back, holding her at arm’s length, his large, warm hands heavy on her shoulders. His expression spoke volumes, transcended the verbal language, and told her the truth of their situation. The danger. The risks. His love for her.
“Look. It is whatever the hell it is.” He reached down, pulled a set of keys from his pocket, the sparse collection jangling against one another. He pressed them into her palm. “Take these and get Becca to the hospital. I’ll go do what I need to do, and I’ll do my damnedest to meet you there.”
He kissed her once more and walked away.
Vicki spun around. Trepidation settled on her shoulders, prompting her heart to race. Would he make it to the hospital in one piece? Thunder rumbled in the distance. She couldn’t help but believe it an omen.
River paused at the trailhead, turned toward her, and pointed at the car. “I’ll be fine. Go.”
Vicki reached for the car door. When she looked back, he’d disappeared. Tears filled her eyes, and she sighed.
The dome light illuminated the inside of the car. Becca lay in the backseat, her chest rising and falling with an even rhythm. It appeared she’d stabilized. Getting her off the cold, damp sand probably didn’t hurt either.
Vicki slid into the driver’s seat, the door trapping her purse against her thigh, and started the car. The engine rumbled to life. She veered off the rutted road then put the car into Reverse so the nose would face back the way they’d come. When she tapped the brakes so she could shift into Drive again, a dark leather wallet fell from the visor onto her lap. She picked it up, flipped it open. Inside lay River’s badge and photo credentials, his serious gaze staring back at her.
The world around her froze, and the windshield seemed to skew then warp. The air in the car thickened. She cringed as excruciating heat pressed against the base of her skull, her pulse banging in her temples. A high-pitched whistle ripped at her eardrums.
Images flashed in her mind’s eye. A white square, white paper, four red lines, black smoke, and the red pointed capital D.
The vision released. Reality snapped back into place, a sharp popping sound ending the screeching inside her head.
She gasped for air. With the backs of her hands, she wiped away the tears that had streaked over her cheeks. What the hell just happened?
She shook her head and stared at River’s picture. A second vision for the same person? She’d never had more than one vision for a person before.
And the last sign had been the killer’s symbol. Oh, crap. He was right. The pointed capital D in my vision proves it. Her hands shook. Her lungs squeezed with fear. Somehow, Kent found a way into another body. And he wants another shot at killing River.
With a final glance at Becca, Vicki left the warmth of the car and stepped out into the cold air. She pushed the door closed and tapped the remote on the key chain, locking the Malibu. She would run down the trail, warn the man she loved then rush back and take her friend to the hospital.
It appeared the Valentine Killer wasn’t the only one after River. Destiny didn’t appreciate being ignored.