In his hand, the man held a stained switchblade covered in blood.
“Useless whore. Not good enough for me. Never good enough. Not when you want him all the time.”
The woman stared sightlessly at the ceiling, her eyes missing from her head.
Not what he’d expected. That didn’t fit the killer’s current pattern.
“Time for you to go before Aunt Ida comes back. She doesn’t understand what I need.” He ended on a bitter note, “She never did.”
Noah tried like hell to see the man’s face. As much as he didn’t want to see himself as a murderer again, he knew for a fact he’d never done this. No portent of doom, this scene had happened not too long ago.
Piercing the truth and drawing on his need to protect Lara, he focused like his life depended on it. The fog slowly lifted…
And he stared into Lara’s big brown eyes, wide with concern.
“Dammit.” He fumed. He’d been so close. He knew that man, had talked with him once or twice before. He could feel it.
“You okay?” Frank frowned. “You were getting kind of pale there. And well, we need to go.”
“Go where?” He shook his head to come fully back to the present.
Lara answered. “To Ida Knowles’s house. Cecilia and Finn sent us a warning. Michael Fury has Chloe, and we think he has her there.”
“Then let’s go.” Noah wished he had one of those more aggressive psychic skills. The ability to move things with his mind, to start fires, or to manipulate people would definitely come in handy right now. But barring that, he’d have to make do with himself and Frank. “Lara, you stay here.”
“I’m not hearing you. Frank, let’s go.” She tried to shove Noah out the door, but he wouldn’t budge.
“I’m not kidding.”
“Neither am I.” She sighed. “It’s not like I want to walk into danger, but Chloe came here to help. If this guy is fixated on me, we can use me as a distraction.”
He scowled. “Hell, no.”
“Noah, please. I need to do this. We have to break this cycle. I trust you to protect me.”
Of all the arguments she might have made, that one resonated with him. “If anything happens to you…”
Frank hissed out a breath. “Can you two argue about it in the car? We need to get moving. Not that Chloe’s my favorite person or anything, but I have a really bad feeling about her being gone this long, not to mention two fucking ghosts who told us to get a move on. Let’s go.”
Noah shared a glance with Lara. “Bossy, isn’t he?”
She gave him a weak grin. “That’s Frank. Normally easygoing, but once he sets his mind on something, he’s a real pain in the ass.”
“I heard that,” Frank said from the hallway outside. He popped his head back in. “Come on, people. One short, mouthy ex-cop with attitude is in trouble. She told me if anything happens to her, my name goes to the top of her friends’ hit list. So move it!”
Chloe groaned. Her head felt like it would split in two, and she couldn’t wait to pay the bastard back for tricking her. How much of a sucker was she to get played by a phone call, of all things? It had led her here, to this rambling house and an old lady with a real mouth on her. “Lara needs my help, my ass. And by the way, your aunt is a bitch.”
He chuckled, and she realized he’d been standing in the shadows all along. The room she sat in, tied to a chair, was dark, lit only by the candles surrounding her. Wax dripped everywhere, a fire hazard just begging to be set in motion. Chloe glanced to her left and saw Jack’s damn painting—right next to more of those stupid candles—and realized she was Mr. Murderer’s new toy.
“Come on, already. Step into the shadows so I can see your face. Is it Bill or Michael?”
“Very good. You’re as smart as you are pretty.” He stepped away from the wall, wearing a cowboy hat that hid his features. He wouldn’t get close enough for her to see him, and from the little she’d seen of Mike Buckman and Bill Knowles, they might as well have been twins except for the hair. Which of course, she couldn’t see, because of the hat.
“We going to sit here all day or what?”
“Now, now. I’ll get to you, but not until Cecilia returns. I’ve been waiting a long time to find her again.” His voice deepened as he spoke, the casual rhythm of his tone turning twangy, into a drawl that gave her the shivers. Christ, it was like someone else spoke using this guy’s mouth. Was he psychotic, or was he really possessed by Michael Fury?
“What’s your name?”
“In due time, sugar. Just hold that thought.”
She struggled to loosen the rope holding her to the chair when he neared. A pinch in her neck distracted her, especially when she felt him depress the plunger. By the time he stepped away from her, she saw double. “Shit.”
That’s when he tipped back his hat, and she finally saw his face.
Noah didn’t like this at all, but he knew Lara had to be with them. It had been about her from the start. Cecilia had dragged Lara’s ass into this, and now he had to get her out. They parked a good quarter mile from Ida Knowles’s house and walked the rest of the way. To their good fortune, she lived in an area boxed in by a row of pines tall enough to block most of their approach, but the fifty or so feet from the tree line to the house lay open.
As one, Noah, Lara, and Frank stopped and crouched, still hidden inside the surrounding copse, and studied the house. Frank dropped the backpack he’d been carrying and dug inside. He withdrew a gun and two large knives.
“Frank,” Lara whispered, her eyes wide. “Where did you get a gun?”
“Standard issue,” Noah remarked, studying the Sig Sauer P220. “Interesting they let you keep it.”
“Yeah, real interesting. Here. You’ll probably get a lot more use out of this than I will.” Frank handed Noah one of the knives. “You’re big enough to take on Mike or Bill.”
Noah nodded. On the drive over, they’d agreed. Lara would stay with Frank, which made sense now that Frank had a gun. He’d been PWP, so he knew how to use one. Noah had never cared for the weapons, preferring a knife or blunt instrument over projectile weapons. He never trusted them not to go off, especially since he’d seen so many accidents with guns in the past.
Lara blinked. “Oh man. There’s Mike’s SUV.”
Noah and Frank moved closer to her, peering with her at the vehicle parked at the side of the house. What he hadn’t considered was that Mike might be in the woods and not in the house with Chloe.
“Hands up. Now.” The cock of a pistol behind him, in addition to the gravelly voice, froze all three of them. Noah braced a hand on Lara’s shoulder to keep her from rising too quickly. He didn’t jerk but rose to his feet and turned around, keeping himself between Mike Buckman and Lara.
Buckman looked haggard, but his hand remained steady on the gun he aimed right at them. “Lara, come here. Step away from those two.”
“Don’t move,” Noah countered. To Buckman, he held up his hands and asked, “Why? Why kill those girls? Why Shelly, of all people? I thought you liked her, at least.”
Mike blinked, and Noah swore his eyes shone with tears. Then he scowled, his rage black enough to scorch the trees around them. “Motherfucker. What kind of game are you playing? You think you can come down here and start this kind of evil, and the law won’t catch you? You might have pulled Frank into this—who doesn’t exist, by the way. Your buddy there, Lara, isn’t who he says he is.”
“I paid a fortune for that identity,” Frank muttered. “Crummy work these days. Knew I should have done it myself.”