He smiled, but couldn’t agree. The water’s roar was too loud, masking the sound of anything that might be coming.
“What was it like at the sanitarium?”
“Awful. They were told I’d killed Tommy when I had been admitted. I tried to tell them different, but they
didn’t believe me, especially after they learned about the dreams.”
“Like the ones about Michelle and our intruder? You had dreams of people dying back then?”
“Not always, but sometimes. In any case, they were always violent and scary. I didn’t understand what they were and no one was able to help me. When I tried to verbalize my fears or talk about my dreams, they medicated me. They said I was delusional and dangerous. I learned to write them down. I had to get the visions out or I really would go insane. I—”
“Shh, you’re not insane. You never were.” Paranoid delusions. Schizophrenic. Withdrawn. Wasn’t that what her father had said? “You shouldn’t have kept all this from me. We need to be honest with each other if we’re going to beat this guy. We can’t keep secrets.”
“What could I have said? How could I have convinced you that I hadn’t killed your sister-in-law, but I’d dreamed of her death? That I’d once been arrested for murdering a boy even though I’d been innocent? No one believed me. They all thought I was crazy. And, apparently, they still do,” she muttered. “Before I could have said psychic connection, you would have locked me up in your fine, upstanding New Orleans jail and have forgotten about me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Oh, yes, I do. One thing I know about you, Riley MacIntyre, is that you’ll do anything for your family. You’ll do anything to find Michelle’s killer. The fact that you’re here with me now risking everything you believe in proves that.”
“You’re right. I will do anything for my family. And right now, I consider you part of my family. I care for you, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
She looked up at him with a wide vulnerable gaze that reached inside and touched his heart.
“I won’t let anyone lock you up again, I promise.” And he meant it. He would do whatever it took to protect her. To do what her father should have done fifteen years ago, to stand up and fight for her right to have survived the brutality of a madman.
“You might not be able to stop them.”
“We’ll stop them together. We’ll discover the truth and we’ll find your devil.”
“I wish I could believe you. But the river’s talking to me, and it’s telling me this isn’t going to end well. Disaster’s coming, I can feel it with every breath I take, and if I close my eyes I can hear it whispered in the wind.”
The coldness in her gaze, the dead certainty shook him.
“Evil’s going to win,” she whispered. “It always does, and there isn’t anything you or I are going to be able to do about it.”
Chapter Thirteen
Evil always wins.
It certainly had that day in the park when a mugger got too rough and killed his mother. Riley hadn’t been able to stop it; he hadn’t been able to save her. Evil always wins—it was his biggest fear and what he’d been fighting against his entire life. “You’re wrong. I won’t be evil’s punching bag and neither will you. We’re going to fight back. We have to. It’s either that or give up and die.”
Devra sighed. “You’re right. Running and hiding isn’t the answer, it isn’t living. You taught me that.”
He held her close, and looked over her shoulder into the deep pockets of the trees where the light couldn’t reach and stifled a quiver of uneasiness, then kissed her. With a little more force, a little more passion to chase away the fear that she was right. Something bad
was
coming.
Rocks crunched beneath steel-toed boots as someone stepped behind them. Devra drew back with a start, her eyes wide. Quickly, Riley turned. William Miller was standing directly behind them, his watery eyes filled with sadness.
“I think it’s time you two left.”
No goodbyes? Riley didn’t know why he was surprised. He stood, pulling Devra up next to him. “I agree. Thank you for your hospitality. And please thank Mrs. Miller, too.”
Devra stopped in front of her father. “The devil was here, Papa, only he wasn’t inside of me. He’s not in my ‘blood.’ If you can’t find it in your heart to see the truth and help me, the devil might just win.”
Riley didn’t like the surprise that entered her father’s eyes, or the certain knowledge that he was hiding something. Something that might just get them killed.
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Devra pointed to the sign that read Rosemont. Trepidation rose within her as she stared at that sign. She shouldn’t have come back here. There must be a different way. She knew that every person she saw would look at her and think, “There’s that crazy girl, the one who killed Chief Marshall’s son.” She shuddered. She couldn’t go through that again.
Riley slowed the car as signs of civilization came into view. The whole town consisted of maybe five blocks, with restaurants and stores and gas stations on either side of the highway. He stopped in front of Mrs. Hutchinson’s Bed and Breakfast. She stared up at the gray Victorian with loads of pink gingerbread trim. It hadn’t changed, not one bit.
“I can’t stay here,” she said softly. “I know this place.”
“Looks like we don’t have much choice.” He pointed
to the abandoned Crazy Eight Motel across the street, where several windows were boarded up and a Closed sign hung haphazardly from one hinge.
“At least no one would know me there.”
Riley squeezed her shoulder. “It’ll be all right.”
She smiled at him, nodded, then reluctantly climbed the front steps. It wouldn’t be all right. Nothing had been all right, not for a very long time.
The door chimed as they opened it and walked into the front parlor. The familiar smell of lemon oil assaulted her as they moved deeper into the room, passing polished antique furniture and walking across a worn maroon carpet to a long wooden counter. Her head began to swim and her stomach turned at the heavy lemon smell.
Nothing had changed. The same pictures adorned the walls, the same candy dish sat on the sideboard, and Mr. Peabody… She stopped and stared at the tortoiseshell cat lying in his basket. “It’s not possible, is it?”
Riley turned. “What?”
She bent down to touch the cat. Mere inches from his soft fur she stopped herself and quickly straightened. “It’s not breathing,” she said and took a quick step back.
“Oh, hello, there,” a woman said, entering from a back room. “Don’t be alarmed. That’s Mr. Peabody. I couldn’t bear to part with him, so I had him stuffed. Hard to tell, eh?”
Devra stifled a shudder as she looked down at the poor cat. Poor Mr. Peabody, stuck forever in this lemon-scented tomb. She tried to wipe the expression of revulsion off her face before turning back to Mrs.
Hutchinson. Thankfully she had changed, or Devra was sure she’d run from the room, screaming. The woman’s hair was now completely gray and cut close to her head, somehow making her appear softer than she remembered.
“We were hoping to get a room for the night,” Riley said.
“Of course you are. Why else would you be here?” She turned and selected a key off a brass rack behind her. When she turned again, her smile faltered as her sharp eyes perused Devra’s face. “Do I know you?”
“No,” Devra lied.
The woman’s eyes narrowed.
“We’re from Louisiana,” Riley added.
“Hmm, still…something about you looks familiar. I never forget a face.”
Devra cringed under her scrutiny. If she knew the truth, would she let them stay? Would she call Chief Marshall? Would they tie her to the nearest stake and burn her?
Riley accepted the key she offered. They followed her up the stairs to a quaint room on the third floor, decorated with too many flowers and way too much pink. “I have a cat who’s been stuck in the car for days,” Devra started.
“There’s a greenhouse out back. You can let him roam in there.” Mrs. Hutchinson’s lips drew tight, as if pulled by an imaginary string. “It’s perfectly safe, no predators or man-eating plants, probably just an extra-large rodent or two to keep him company.”
Devra arched a brow and shuffled uncomfortably under the woman’s narrow gaze.
“We would really appreciate that,” Riley said, giving Devra a nod before following the woman back downstairs to unload their bags and get Felix settled in the greenhouse.
Devra parted the lace curtains and stared down at the street below as she tried to relax the tension in her shoulders. From the outside, Rosemont, Washington, was the perfect Americana small town, where everyone knew one another and nothing bad ever happened. But it had. And she had a terrible feeling that now that she was back, it was about to happen again.
She watched the wind kick up and give the tall pines a good shake. The sky darkened as black clouds raced across the sun. A chill raised the hair on her arms and suddenly she knew that her luck was about to run out. Riley stepped behind her and placed his arms around her waist. She leaned back against his chest and sighed.
“Come on, let’s lie down,” he whispered.
She nodded and followed him to the bed.
He stretched out on his stomach, then turned to look at her. “Do you trust me, Devra?”
She looked into his eyes and saw how open he was to her, how much he wanted to believe. “Yes,” she said softly. “I trust you. I trust you with my life.”
It’s my heart I’m not so sure about.
“Any more secrets?”
She stared at him. “There are so many things…. I’ve been afraid for so long.”
He pulled her next to him and within minutes she
drifted asleep with his warm smell offering a comfort she knew was only temporary. Secrets… There were so many.
HE WALKED SLOWLY through the woods, following a narrow path that looked as if the forest had almost succeeded in reclaiming it into its fold. He stepped around a massive tree and the house came into view. It was a small house badly in need of repairs. The siding had come off in places and several of the windows were boarded up or broken where the boards were missing.
He was humming, a familiar tune that nagged the back of her mind. An overwhelming sense of fear flooded through her. It entered her mouth, her ears, her lungs. She couldn’t breathe.
Please, don’t go near the house!
She tried to run, but couldn’t. The tune danced across her mind. A sick, torturous melody—somehow distorted, somehow wrong.
The boards had been removed from the front door. He reached out his hand and turned the knob.
“No!” her mind screamed.
The door swung open.
She saw the room as it was before—hardwood floors gleaming, a round rug that she knew would feel rough beneath her hands and knees. Her vision blurred and suddenly she could see him placing daisies in a dirty glass on a warped table. The rug was gone, the floor splintered and beyond repair.
“Daisies for my Devy,” he whispered.
Her throat tightened. He picked up the glass with the flowers and turned toward the kitchen. As he walked, she thought she saw him stepping in something on the floor. What was it?
Pain erupted in her chest. It hurt. She wanted to cry, to scream.
Blood. There was so much blood.
Mama!
A strangled cry erupted from Devra’s throat. She sat straight up, coughing, unable to catch her breath.
“Devra, what is it? What’s wrong?”
She turned to Riley, unable to comprehend the horror of her dream or the certain knowledge that it was more: a premonition, a memory?
“You’re so pale,” Riley said, pulling her into his arms and rubbing her back.
But it was no use. She couldn’t feel him. She could only feel the sensation of ice-cold water rolling over her skin, could only see a large puddle of blood spreading slowly across a golden floor, could only hear the simple tune from a child’s music box playing over and over in her mind.
“Devra, you’re scaring me. What is it?”
His tone, his rough shake pulled her from the last vestiges of her dream. She stared at him, her eyes locking onto his. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
“Bad dream?”
She nodded and could see that he wanted more. But she couldn’t give it to him. She didn’t know how. “I…I think I’m going to drown.”
Alarm filled his face. “Why?”
“I don’t know. I’m just so cold. I can feel the water, can taste it.”
“Okay,” he said and pulled her close. “It’s going to be all right. You’re going to be all right.” After a few minutes the warmth returned to her skin.
“Can you tell me anything more?”
She shook her head. “Nothing that makes any sense, sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m here now. You don’t have to face this alone. We’ll get through this thing.”
She nodded, though she could see the lie in his eyes. He was scared, and not just of her devil. He was worried her father was right about her. He was looking at her as if she might have to go back to the sanitarium and that he would have to be the one to send her there.
“You think you’re up to seeing Chief Marshall?” he asked.
She shook her head. She would never be up to facing the chief, to looking into those cold, hate-filled eyes. But she knew she couldn’t avoid him, she knew she’d have to face him if she wanted to live. Because one thing was certain—her time was almost up. “No, but I will,” she said, and changed into a chambray peasant skirt that flared around her legs and a long-sleeved white blouse.
“Feeling better?” Riley asked when she was dressed and ready to go.
Devra nodded, though she couldn’t shake the trepidation squeezing her heart. Even though Riley was by her side, suddenly she felt very alone. She wouldn’t be facing the chief with her lover, she’d be facing him with
another cop. And even though the chief didn’t have anything to hold her on, the irrational fear that once she walked through his doors she wouldn’t walk out again was overwhelming.
She shook it off, and got into the car next to Riley. She had to make the most of this visit, because finding out who killed Tommy was her only hope. Within minutes, Riley parked the car in front of the small courthouse building. “I’ll be right by your side,” he whispered and squeezed her hand.