Wake to Darkness (14 page)

And he had to do it all while keeping Rachel and his family safe, and not letting on that there might be a killer after them. Marie and the kids had been through too much to handle news like that until and unless it was absolutely necessary.

It was a tall order. He didn’t know if he was up to it, or if keeping the family in the dark was still the best option. For tonight, though, it would have to be.

He checked every window on the second floor, made sure there was no attic in the place and then did a thorough search of the ground floor, trying not to be obvious.

He knew he’d failed when Misty, sharp as a tack, asked what on earth he was looking for.

He couldn’t help the quick look that passed between him and Rachel, but he looked away fast and thought faster. “My cell phone charger. Damned if I know where I left it.”

“Well, I doubt you left it in the coat closet.”

Rachel forced a laugh, though it sounded more like she had something caught in her throat. “You never know with this guy, Misty. He’s so absentminded sometimes that I’m afraid I’ll find his car keys in the fridge.” It was a blatant lie, and they both knew it.

Misty frowned from one of them to the other. The girl was too perceptive to be fooled so easily. “That must make being a big-shot detective a real challenge.” She sighed, shrugged, turned away. “I’m gonna see if Marie needs any help with the lasagna she’s making for dinner. That woman can cook like no one I know.”

“Ask her if there’s enough for company,” Mason said. “I want to invite Rosie and Marlayna over tonight. And, um...and Scott Douglas.”

Misty’s eyes widened, and she sent a look at Jeremy.

He caught on and tugged his earbuds out. “What?”

“Mason, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Rachel said.

“Don’t think what’s a good idea?” Jeremy asked. “Why’s everyone looking at me?”

Josh pulled out his earbuds, too. “What’s going on?”

“Your uncle wants to invite that Scott guy for dinner,” Misty said.

Jeremy’s jaw dropped, and his brows drew close. “No fucking way.”

Rachel glared at him. “Watch your mouth, kid.”

“You should talk!”

Mason glanced toward the kitchen, where pots and pans were banging and a vent fan was running, and lowered his voice. “Look, I’m as uncomfortable with this guy as anyone else. But don’t you think the best way for me to figure out where he’s coming from and what his motives are would be to hang around him a little bit?”

“I think the best idea would be to tell him to take a hike and never come back,” Jeremy said.

“We could tell him that,” Mason replied. “But do you really think he’d do it?”

“Then I’ll
make him
do it.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Jeremy, stop. Your mom has lost so much. I know you think you’re being loyal to your father, but you have to remember that he chose to leave her. She didn’t choose to be alone. He took that choice away from her. From all of you.”

“I’m not listening to this.” Jeremy got up off the sofa and started for the stairs, but Rachel jumped up and got in his face.

“You need to hear this, Jer. I’m really sorry it’s harsh, but you’re not being fair to your mother, and your father’s beyond caring.”

“Listen to her, Jer,” Mason said quickly. “She knows this stuff. She wrote a whole book on it. Whatever was broken in your dad when he was here, it’s better now.”

Rachel met his eyes and gave the most subtle shake of her head that she could possibly give.
Don’t go there.
But it was too late. Jeremy was looking at her now, and his expression dared her to try her best platitudes on him.

“My father was an asshole. He’s probably in hell.”

Mason’s throat swelled shut when Jeremy said that. His eyes burned. His brother was a serial killer. Of course he was in hell.

But Rachel didn’t even flinch. She put her full focus on Jeremy. “Why do you think your father would be in hell, Jeremy?”

Jeremy averted his eyes, and for the first time Mason wondered if the boy knew more than any of them realized.

He looked at Rachel again, pleading with her with his eyes. And she conceded with a nod. “I don’t believe in hell, you know. You don’t have a body when you die. You don’t feel pain. There’s no torture, just bliss.”

Marie came as far as the doorway that separated the kitchen from the living room and stopped, but Rachel didn’t see her. She was focused on Jeremy.

“Your father’s okay, Jer. He’s better than he ever was. Whatever flaws he had when he was alive, they’re gone now. Death erases all that. Heals it. He would want you to be happy, and he would want your mom to be happy, too.”

“He was a selfish asshole incapable of loving anyone but himself.”

“Jeremy!” Marie’s face had gone white.

“It’s true!” Jeremy yelled. “He was always out doing his own thing, coming home in the middle of the night, never with any kind of explanation. Like you’ve been doing lately, Mom. Seeing that freaking Douglas guy, right?”

“Jeremy, don’t do this, please.”

He had tears in his eyes now. “You want to invite him to dinner, Uncle Mason? Fine, invite him. I’ll leave. I’ll go bunk with Marty and Chelle at the lodge.” He pushed past Rachel and up the stairs to his room.

“Who the hell are Marty and Chelle?” Mason asked.

Misty spoke up. “Just some friends we made out on the slopes today.”

He shot Rachel a look. She jumped in. “What do you know about them, Misty?”

Misty frowned at her. “Marty is twenty-three, a physical therapist. He and Chelle are engaged. She works in a day-care center. They’re from Erie. I didn’t get their last names or social security numbers.”

Rachel sighed. Mason wondered if a PT guy would have access to a drug used in surgery. Maybe.

“God, what’s wrong with you two lately?” Misty demanded.

Mason didn’t answer. He was worried about Jeremy and half wished he hadn’t dumped out the kid’s booze. He could probably use a swig about now.

“What set him off this time?” Marie asked.

“I did,” Mason said. “I’m sorry, Marie. I suggested inviting Scott for dinner tonight, along with Rosie and Marlayna.”

Her hand fluttered to her chest. “You did?”

“Yeah. But it’s too soon. I didn’t think it would send him off the deep end like that.”

She shook her head rapidly, then crossed the room and wrapped Mason in a hug. “Thank you for that, Mason. Thank you.”

He nodded, hugged her back, then let her go and turned to Joshua, who was sitting on the sofa, right where he’d been. His eyes were red and wet. “Are you okay, Josh?”

The boy blinked. “I...I didn’t think Dad was a...selfish asshole. He was just Dad.” He inhaled a little brokenly. “I miss him.”

“I know you do. I know.” Mason went to Josh and sat down, putting an arm around him and hugging him close. He sent a look at Rachel, a look that begged for her help. She held his gaze and shook her head clearly this time, a definitive no.

“Rachel, please,” he said aloud. “I know you have things to say on this. I read
The Truth About Death.
Tell Josh what you wrote there.”

She closed her eyes, and he felt her anger. He understood it, too. She said she didn’t believe the things she wrote about so beautifully. She claimed to think it was all bull, although he didn’t think she did. Not really. How could anyone write so eloquently and so convincingly about something they didn’t really believe? It was beyond him. She was a puzzle.

“Please?” he asked again.

Sighing heavily, Rachel went to the sofa and sat on the boy’s other side. “Okay. So, Josh, this is just my theory, okay? I don’t think people go away when they die. They come out of their bodies like a butterfly coming out of a cocoon.”

“It’s not like that, though.” Josh’s voice was raspy. “A butterfly is still here. You can see it, touch its wings.”

“I know, but just hear me out on this, okay? See, we’re used to being able to experience each other with our five senses. Seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, touching, right?”

Josh sniffed hard and lifted his head. “Right. Except for tasting.”

She laughed a little. Marie came closer, her expression rapt. “But we have way more senses than just those five. I learned that from being blind for so long.”

“Like what?” Josh asked softly.

“Well, like when you dream. You see things in your dreams, right? But your eyes are closed. I saw things in my dreams even when I was blind. Really clear things. Bright colors, light and shadow, people the way I imagined they looked. You can hear things in your dreams, too, but you’re not hearing with your ears, are you?”

He frowned. “I never thought of that.” He frowned hard. “How does that work, anyway?”

“When we’re sleeping, we forget all about what we think is possible and what we think is
im
possible. So those beliefs don’t get in the way like they do when we’re awake. All our limits are gone in our dreams. We can talk to famous people, we can fly around the world, we can do anything. I think that’s the way we have to learn how to experience the people we love after they die. With our other senses, the ones we don’t know we have and hardly ever use.”

“In our dreams?” Josh asked. “We just tell ourself to dream about them and then we do?”

“Yeah, if we’re persistent and patient. But you can do it when you’re awake, too. I think we do it all the time and just don’t recognize it for what it is. Like, do you ever see something and suddenly it hits you what your dad would have thought of it? Sometimes you can even imagine what he would say or do, or how he would look if he was there?”

Joshua’s tears were drying fast. He nodded hard. “I was just thinking that on the water slides today, how if he was here, he would wait for me at the bottom, or maybe he’d go down it with me and how loud he would laugh. I heard it in my head.”

“That’s
exactly
what I mean. That wasn’t pretend. That wasn’t make-believe. He was really there, laughing and watching you on the slides. You were experiencing your dad through your other senses, the ones we don’t even know we have. We lump all those senses together and call them the imagination, but they’re not imaginary. They’re real.”

His eyes widened slightly, and the most serene look came over his face. He turned to look at his mother, who was standing behind the sofa with her hands on his shoulders. “You think she’s right?”

Marie nodded. “I talk to your father all the time. And I try to imagine what he’d say back to me. I really
hope
she’s right. I really hope one of these days I hear him answer me.”

“Choose to believe it, Josh,” Rachel said. “Choose to believe it, and then it’s as real as you want it to be.”

Josh smiled a little. “Thanks, Rache. You’re...” He shook his head, then looked at Mason. “She’s so awesome. I hope you guys never break up.” Then he bounded off the sofa and ran upstairs, maybe to try to pass what he’d just heard along to Jeremy. When they all turned to follow his progress, Mason saw Jeremy duck quickly out of sight. He’d been near the top of the stairs, listening.

Marie met Rachel’s eyes. “Thank you for that. I think it actually helped him.”

Rachel only nodded. Her eyes were tearing up.

Marie said, “Mason, don’t worry about inviting Scott tonight. The kids need time. But if you want to have Marlayna and Rosie, there will be plenty of lasagna.” Then she walked slowly back into the kitchen, leaving Mason and Rachel on the sofa, with the space Joshua had occupied still between them. He looked at her.

And she looked back, but her look was angry. “How could you make me do that?”

“Comfort a grieving child?”

“
Lie
to a grieving child. Mason, you know it’s all bullshit as well as I do.”

“No, Rachel. I don’t. How can you even doubt it, after what we’ve been through? The way Eric’s organs...” He lowered his voice, leaned closer. “The way they somehow transferred his evil to the recipients. The way you can see through their eyes. You
know
there’s more to life than what we can see and touch. You
have to
know it. You couldn’t write about it the way you do if you didn’t believe it on some level.”

She shook her head. “You know what I think this is?”

“What?” He immediately realized he probably shouldn’t have asked.

“I think you’re starting to fall for me, and that I’m not really the kind of woman you want, so you’re trying to convince yourself that I’m something else. But I’m not, Mason. I regurgitate the garbage bestsellers have been spouting for years, put my own spin on it and laugh all the way to the bank. Period.”

She was absolutely right about one thing, he thought, staring at her. He
was
starting to fall for her. But the rest was all crap. He knew the woman better than she knew herself. He’d seen the true believer in her, even if she insisted on keeping that part of herself buried. And he wondered why.

But he thought he’d pushed her enough for the moment. There was a lot going on, and she was stressed, on edge. He shouldn’t push her too hard right now.

“I need to call Rosie.”

“Yeah. I’m going to spend some time online. See if I can find out where the angel pin came from.” She got up and headed up the stairs. “Have Rosie check to see if they carry them in the gift shop on his way out, will you?”

“Yeah.” He wasn’t sure, but he thought maybe he’d made a mistake with her just now. Maybe a big one. He hoped he could keep her alive long enough to fix it.

11

Wednesday, December 20

M
arie’s lasagna was lacking something. Attention, I thought, my grim mood getting grimmer. I didn’t blame the woman. She had a lot on her mind, with her new boyfriend so close yet out of reach, and her teenage PITA son Jeremy pouting in his room.

Could be worse. She could be aware that her attacker is somewhere at this damned lodge, waiting for his moment. If she did know about it, though, it would probably comfort her to know he’ll come for me first. After all,
she
didn’t get a creepy fucking Secret Santa present, did she?

Misty insisted on taking a plate of lasagna up to the shithead. I thought he should go hungry until he could quit being a jerk, but what did I know? Yes, that was hard and cold. Yes, he’d recently lost his father. But people die. My parents did, when I wasn’t much older than Jeremy was now. Their first vacation without a kid—a cruise they’d always wanted. I’d flown the coop and was in my third year of college, Tommy was off finding himself in California, and Sandra was safely married with six-year-old twins. Mom and Dad thought it was the end of the world when she got pregnant during her freshman year, but it all turned out just fine. She was happy. Jim was perfect. The girls were thriving.

Everything was right with the world, and then they took a cruise, and then they were dead. People just die. It happens. Life sucks sometimes. What Jeremy wasn’t getting was that you don’t have to turn into an asshole over it.

Although I suppose some would argue that was what I did. I guess.

Misty took Jeremy’s meal upstairs and her own with it, and I wished I could get rid of Marie and her younger, more pleasant son so Mason and I could hash out the case with Rosie. Probably Marlayna would have to go, too.

She was a nice woman, and funny as hell now that she was starting to get over being all starstruck around me. She was tall, solid, in an athletic way. Bigger than me in every dimension, but still lean and toned, and I’d bet my last nickel you couldn’t guess her age and come anywhere close. I liked her.

“Well, you did the cooking, Marie,” Marlayna said when the conversation hit a lull. “You have to let me handle cleanup.”

“I’ll help,” Marie said.

Josh bolted from the table the minute his mother got up to start clearing, heading upstairs and granting me my wish.

Wish and it is granted.

Shut up.

It was just Mason, Rosie and me now. And though I looked like a jerk for not helping the other women out, I vowed I would make up for it later. I leaned over the table the minute we were alone and whispered to Rosie, “Did you check the gift shop?”

“Yeah. They got a pile of ’em in a basket on the checkout counter. I bought one for comparison.” He pulled it out of his pocket. It was in a tiny two-inch square zipper bag.

I nodded. “It’s the same.” Only this one’s blue cut-glass eyes were still sparkling in their sockets where they belonged. “No box?”

“Nope, they’re loose. I had the clerk check, but she didn’t have a record of selling any in the past few days. Still, it’d be easy enough to swipe one.”

I shot a look at Mason. A scared look.

“It doesn’t necessarily mean he’s here,” he said.

“No? Then why steal it? Why not just buy it, unless he didn’t want anyone to know he’d bought it?”

Mason’s lips thinned. “How much are they, Rosie?”

“Three-ninety-nine.”

Mason sighed and got up. “Rosie, I need to get the pin, the box, entire thing, to headquarters fast. Any ideas?”

“We could probably get a courier up here first thing in the morning. Seal everything up and have him drive it back.”

“Think we could get one out here tonight?”

“You pay him enough, you can get one whenever you want,” Rosie said.

“How’s five hundred sound?” I asked.

Rosie looked at me. “That’s a lot of money, Rachel.”

“I value my life, Rosie. Not to mention my eyeballs.”

He nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Talk to Finnegan, Rosie. Maybe one of his security guys would like to earn an extra five Benjamins for a six-hour drive.”

Rosie nodded. “You guys gonna be safe out here tonight?”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Mason said. “Keep an eye on my mother. She could be a target, too.”

“Will do. Anything else?”

“Nothing more you can do tonight. It’s already late,” Mason said.

He was tense. I could see it in him all of a sudden. His neck was more corded than usual, the muscles tight, and his back was rigid. His jaw, too.

“Hey.” I put a hand on his shoulder. “We’re gonna be all right, Mason. We survived the Wraith, we’ll survive this organ thief, too.”

He met my eyes and nodded as if he agreed, but it was pretty clear to me, because I read people so easily, that he was lying. He wasn’t the least bit convinced that we were going to be all right.

Marlayna and Marie returned from the kitchen, and I quickly stood and started gathering up the remaining dishes.

Mason said, “I’ll go get that package I need you to send for me, Rosie,” and headed upstairs.

And that was it. That was all we could do at the moment, so there I was four hours later, in the clean kitchen, staring into the open fridge because I hadn’t had the appetite to eat my dinner, and feeling like a sitting duck. I had the kind of chills you get up your spine when someone’s standing behind you, or hiding just out of sight and watching you. I’d had them ever since I’d looked at that stupid angel pin.

“Hey.”

Mason. His voice smoothed the chill away from my spine like a hot-oil massage. I closed the fridge. “Everyone gone to bed?”

“Yeah. I’ve been waiting to get a minute alone with you.”

I turned and leaned back against the refrigerator. “Mason, in case you’re not aware of it, you can have as many minutes alone with me as you want. Just say the word.”

He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“Yeah, but I still want to have sex with you.”

He smiled a little bigger, and his cheeks got red. “I’m sorry about before. I honestly don’t want to change you. I like you pretty well just the way you are, in case you didn’t know that.”

I shrugged. “I know I’m abrasive sometimes. I’m mouthy. I’m cynical. I swear like a Marine. I know.”

“I know it, too.” He put his hands on the fridge on either side of my head. “I’m still here.”

Heat flooded my face, and a smile pulled so hard it hurt, until I had to give in to it. Maybe he didn’t have delusions about the real me after all.

“So?” he asked softly, leaning in a little closer. He brushed a kiss across my mouth.

“So...my room or yours?”

* * *

Mine, as it turned out. It had been more than two months since I’d had this man in my bed, and once I got his clothes off and my own down to bra and panties, I just relaxed there on the mattress, looking at him. He was lying on his back, I was on my side, trailing my fingers over his abs. “You’ve been working out all this time, haven’t you?”
Washboard
was an understatement.

“I wanted to be suitably impressive if I ever managed to get you in the sack again.”

“All this for me?”

“Uh-huh.”

My fingertips wandered up to his chest, out to his shoulder, then trailed down to his biceps. “Damn, Mason, you are
ripped.
”

“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.” He reached for me, pulled me over on top of him and nuzzled my neck. He had just enough raspy whiskers to make it delicious, and I shivered right to my toes.

He unhooked my bra while I was distracted and feasted on my boobs while I straddled him, and I finally managed to pull away enough to kick free of my panties. I was breathless and eager.

He was, too. I stretched out on top of him, just rubbing my body against his and closing my eyes so I could fully appreciate the sensations. Being sighted was a distraction I didn’t need just then. Yeah, he was beautiful to look at. But he
felt
even better. He smelled even better, too. And that unidentifiable thing every human being gave off—the thing I could always read to tell their mood, their nature, their intent, their honesty—was beaming a vibe so strong it was louder than an air raid siren and brighter than a beacon. He was as into me as I was into him.

That description only scratched the surface, but it was as deep as my mind cared to delve just then. Sensual pleasure was my goal tonight, not emotional undercurrents.

I didn’t want to go there, down into the depths of what this was. I didn’t want to probe and analyze and pick it apart. I just wanted to relish it. Yeah, just like a line from one of my bullshit books. I guessed the bit about living in the moment wasn’t such garbage after all. That was three or four of my crapola platitudes I’d decided were actually valid over the course of this holiday getaway slash serial-killer dodge. Go figure.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and held tight as he rolled us both over, and we were making out all the way, like teenagers after prom.

And then there was a loud bang from downstairs, like the front door slamming, and Mason shot out of the bed like he’d been electrocuted.

He had his pants on before I’d even reached for my robe. No shirt, gun drawn. Shit, where had he been hiding that?

“Stay here. Lock your bedroom door.”

“Lock it my ass, I’m going with you.” I threw on my robe and sashed it tight. I skipped my slippers. Slippers were...well, slippery. If I had to run, or kick someone’s face in, I damn well wanted the benefit of bare feet.

We crept down the stairs, him in front, gun leading, me behind, one hand on his back, because touching him made me feel better somehow. The house was dark, but there was still some light coming from the fireplace, which was burning low.

I heard soft sounds, breathing. No. Crying.

Mason got to the bottom, reached around the corner and turned on the light.

Marie jumped to her feet from the sofa, startled, her face wet with tears, her hair wet with melting snow. Some flakes still showed, and I looked out the window to see that it was coming down pretty hard in the gleam of the outside light. She swiped at her cheeks with an angry palm. “Mason, you scared the hell out of me.”

He lowered the gun, breathing again. “I heard the door slam. What happened, Marie? Are you all right?”

She sniffed, shook her head. He tucked the gun into the back of his jeans, which must have been really cold on his bare skin. Marie sank back onto the sofa again. She was still wearing her long coat, buttoned all the way from neck to ankles, and her gloves, too. But she’d taken off her boots and was sitting in her sock feet. “I went out,” she said.

“Scott Douglas?” Mason asked.

She nodded, sniffed again. “I was supposed to meet him. We were going to have a nightcap together. I bundled up and walked all the way to the lodge, but...he didn’t show.”

“He stood you up?” Mason sounded like he was actually sympathetic.

I felt a surge of anger. “That bastard. I oughtta kick him in the balls when I see him again.” Because the poor woman needed a break for once, and also because, by standing her up, Scott had fucked up my little rendezvous as well as his own.

Marie shook her head at me, and I was reminded that she was still in the heartbreak phase. Nowhere near the anger and vengeance phase, which was really the fun part of any breakup, in my humble opinion. Still, the heartbreak phase didn’t call for threats of violence. It called for soothing. So I reined in my anger and asked myself what my sister would do in this situation. And then it came to me. “I’ll make tea. And check the freezer for Häagen-Dazs.”

I went to the kitchen, trying to listen as best I could but missing part of the conversation while I ran water and put the kettle on a burner. I hurried to grab cups and teabags. While the water heated, I checked for ice cream, but there wasn’t any, so I found a few leftover brownies and put them on a plate instead. Then I headed back in, tea and brownies in hand, to get the scoop.

Mason was all the way up to, “Is it true, what Jeremy said? That you were seeing him before you came up here?”

Sniffling hard, Marie nodded. “I thought I was being so discreet.” I handed her a cup of tea. She set it down without sipping. “I met him a few weeks ago.”

“How?”

She lifted her head and looked right into Mason’s eyes. “I’m sorry I lied, Mason. I was afraid you’d suspect him of being the one who attacked me if I told you the truth. I even made him use a fake name. Scott’s his brother’s name. He’s actually Alan Douglas.”

I frowned, because
that
name was giving me a little itch. I’d heard it somewhere before.

“Why would you feel the need to do that, Marie?” Mason frowned. “Has this guy got something to hide? Something in his past you didn’t want us finding out?”

“Nothing like you’re thinking.” She lowered her head. “I was afraid you’d think it was weird if you knew. He’s—he’s got Eric’s liver.”

I damn near dropped the plate of brownies and settled for landing it noisily on the coffee table. “You’re shitting me.”

“That’s how I met him,” Marie went on. “A request came through the Transplant Network. He wanted to meet his donor’s family. I...I said yes.”

Mason looked at me. I stared back at him. Drawing a deep breath, he said, “And he didn’t show up to meet you tonight?”

She shook her head.

“Did you try calling him?” he asked. And I knew what he was thinking. That Marie’s new boyfriend was either lying in his hotel room minus a liver, looking to become the next internet urban legend—just add ice—or he was out stalking other organ recipients. Like me, for example. No, we hadn’t considered that a recipient might also be the organ thief. Yes, we were both considering it now. I could read Mason like a book.

I came around the table, tea and brownies forgotten, and sat on the couch next to Mason. He was facing Marie, so his back was toward me, but I needed to touch some part of him just then, and his big broad shoulders would do just fine.

“I called his cell,” Marie said. “He didn’t pick up. I left a voice mail, waited at the bar for over an hour, even tried using the house phone to ring his room, but—”