Authors: Erin Quinn
Kathy gulped and moved away, unaware that she’d backed herself into the corner until the walls cupped her in their trap. DC pushed through the tattered door like a high-speed train, heading straight for her. Christie circled around him from behind and darted into the kitchen.
Pinned to the wall by her own fear, Kathy froze as he grabbed her by her shoulders and jerked her up into his face. A scream that had started full strength at his approach caught in her throat and died when he touched her.
She struggled, fighting for herself, fighting for her daughter, who slept just on the other side of the wall, but her frantic movements only entangled her more in his grip. With lightning speed, he covered her face with his hand and smashed her head into the wall. She felt her brain go soft and hot, but refused to give in to its fuzzy heat. She would not pass out and leave her daughter to this monster a second time.
Hell, no!
The suffocating pressure of his palms covered her mouth, locking her screams in her throat, but forcing her jaws open. Kathy caught the heel of his hand between her teeth and bit as hard as she could, gagging on the taste of his blood. He yelled, jerking his hand back. She dodged under his arm, but he tripped her and sent her flying across the floor.
Moving quickly from the kitchen, Christie hugged the wall to the front room, forcing her frightened shivers to cease. She took a deep breath and held it, gripping the handle of a butcher knife. It felt unreal, as if the hand on the end of her arm belonged to someone else, along with the knife clutched in the bloodless fingers.
She lunged at DC’s turned back while he wrestled with Kathy. As if he had eyes in the back of his head, DC dodged the lethal blade at the last moment. But he was too slow. A tear, a red gash, appeared in the center of his shirt. He staggered back.
Beyond fear, beyond rage, Christie closed in on him. He let her, watching through slitted eyes. Unflinching, she stared back.
Seeing an opportunity, Kathy moved quickly, kicking her foot into his groin as Christie shot forward with another jab of the knife. Unfazed by Kathy’s glancing blow, DC quickly jumped out of the swinging arc of Christie’s blade, somehow knocking the knife from her hand. With a breathless surge of dread, both women watched the knife spin through the air in slow motion, landing and sliding out of reach.
In a crouch, he faced them like a hungry predator, too greedy to let one of his prey go free while he devoured the other. The smile he gave Christie told her more than she ever wanted to know about what he planned.
Suddenly, from outside, the squeal of tires and the slam of a car door thundered in the sudden silence that held them all motionless. Sam charged through the splintered fragments of the front door and, without pausing, drove his body straight into DC, knocking him to the ground.
Another car door slammed just as DC managed to squirm free of Sam’s grip and stagger to his feet. DC groped for his gun as Christie watched in frozen horror.
All of a sudden, a growling beast of fur and fangs shot through the front door. DC’s gaze darted to the dog and he screamed, his terror raising his voice to childlike pitch.
Mike cleared the door just as DC’s cry pealed through the house. The sound seemed to render them all immobile. For a split second, Christie’s eyes met DC’s and the beseeching bewilderment and aching desolation she saw in them overwhelmed her.
He lifted his hand as if to reach out to her, as if to seek consolation. Rookie’s jaws clamped over the outstretched arm in an instant and, with a powerful wrench, the dog forced DC to the floor.
DC’s howls reverberated through the night, at once pitiful and frightening. He scrambled for the door but Rookie would not let go, moving with savage speed from DC’s arm to snarl and chomp at his leg. DC managed to gain his footing, but Rookie lunged, determined to bring him back down.
He was no match for a dog trained to kill. Rookie went for his throat with terrifying ferocity and single-minded determination.
DC continued to grope for the gun in his holster, drawing it while protecting his neck with his other bloodied arm. Rookie saw the weapon the instant DC touched it. The dog pounced on top of DC’s chest and sank its fangs deep into DC’s arm, ripping another wail of terrified agony out of the incapacitated man.
Still, DC would not relinquish the gun. Fighting the powerful weight and forceful tenacity of Rookie, he swung his hand and pointed the weapon.
Christie found herself trapped in his sights as time seemed to stretch and slow. Her gaze shot to a stunned Sam. He called her name and sprang at her in the exact instant Mike’s gun took deadly aim on DC.
Two gunshots simultaneously echoed in the small house and Christie braced herself for the searing pain of a bullet. But it was DC’s body that jerked back a second before Sam slammed into Christie. She felt DC’s bullet part the air above her as she hit the floor.
The sudden silence seemed cavernous, echoing with the gasping breaths and supercharged emotions of the survivors. Unable to stop herself, Christie peered over Sam’s shoulder.
DC lay sprawled in the doorway, Rookie sitting passively at his side. The bottoms of his shoes faced her, toes up.
How ordinary the soles of his shoes looked, she thought disjointedly. How like everyone else’s. Yet DC had never been ordinary. Had never been like anyone else.
“He’s dead,” Mike said softly, checking DC’s vital signs. Rookie watched the body, at ease yet alert and ready for battle. The sound of police sirens filled the night.
Sam stood and pulled Christie to her feet. “It’s over, babe,” he whispered with tears in his eyes. His voice cracked. “It’s over.”
She shook her head. It would never be over for her, but at least it was finished. Staring at Sam through pain-shadowed eyes, she threw herself into his arms.
* * *
The flashing lights of the band of police cars gathered in front of Kathy’s house lit the street like a carnival. The monotone drone of the dispatcher echoed in the air. Christie stood back, away from the crowd of officials with their high-beamed flashlights and reporters pressing against the yellow police tape. Watching with a sense of detachment that must surely be shock, she paced a small circle, her rubber shoes whispering over the black asphalt in a soothing way.
It seemed that they’d been there for hours, answering questions, repeating the events of the evening. With each retelling, it seemed more and more a fantasy, less and less a reality. How could it have really happened?
She stared at Sam, his features tinged blue, then red, as the spinning lights flashed across his face. He’d saved her life. Without him, DC and death would have run over her, forever erasing her from this world. A tremor rocked through her. She’d gone from making love to meeting death in the span of one night. It was too much to grasp.
Sam had told her about Beth’s relationship to DC. About how Beth had killed Christie’s mother and, if the police were correct, Leonard Pfeiffer, too. So much bloodshed, so many people gone. All because of DC.
Mike had pulled Sam aside and told him that the FBI had confirmed DC’s connections with a hospital in Arizona. The files they had found in DC’s locker belonged to Dr. McClowsky. DC had used them to learn vital statistics so he could search out a donor. What DC had planned for Jessica boggled Christie’s mind and made her sick to her stomach.
What kind of person could even conceive such a brutal plan? DC, though, had not only planned it, he had successfully carried it out in another state. Copying an existing criminal pattern in a city, DC had abducted several victims before he’d ever reached San Diego. The horrifying scandal would make headlines for many weeks to come.
She caught Sam’s eyes across the way. His bruised face must have made the action painful, but he smiled at her anyway, warming her heart and filling it with purpose.
DC may have left behind a string of victims, shocked and bruised by his violence, but already they were becoming a group of survivors.
Still, as long as she lived, she’d never forget the look in his eyes before he died. The imploring entreaty. She’d never known just what it was he’d wanted from her. Now, she never would.
Epilogue
Jessica had been home for three days and at the end of each one, Kathy thanked God for her return. Neither she nor her daughter seemed ready to let the other out of her sight but that was okay. They had already started counseling and in time they would learn to live as they had before DC Porter shattered their shallow illusion of security.
As she sat on the front porch watching Jessica playing with her dolls, a familiar car pulled up to the curb. Surprised and immensely pleased, she saw Mike step out followed by a benign-looking Rookie.
Kathy hadn’t seen him since that night. She’d begun to think she wouldn’t see him again. Jessica ceased her play, reaching out for Rookie as she watched Mike make his way to the porch. Rookie trotted over to give her a lick and sniff her dolls.
Dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, Mike smiled at Kathy. “Rookie wanted to make sure everyone was okay,” he said.
“Just Rookie?”
“Well, since he couldn’t drive himself, I thought I’d check too.”
Kathy smiled, feeling suddenly shy. “It’s good to see you again, Mike.”
“It’s good to see you, too,” he said, pulling her gently into his arms. “I think it’s time for us to be friends.”
She wound her arms around his neck, feeling somehow at home in the haven of his arms. “Just friends?” she asked.
Jessica’s ecstatic question stopped Mike’s lips a second before they touched Kathy’s.
“Mommy? Did the Daddy Fairy come while I was gone?”
* * *
Christie stretched and rolled over, snuggling into the warmth of Sam’s body. He smiled in his sleep. For three days they’d done nothing but eat, talk, and make endless love that left her feeling like a cat on a sunny windowsill with nothing to do but purr.
She had finally made peace with herself. She had finally allowed herself the freedom to live normally. Now it was time to bury the past, once and for all, and look toward the future.
She felt as if her world, which had always been askew, had now been righted on its axis. She couldn’t bring back her mother, but she could hold her memory close and cherish all that she was, instead of lamenting what she had not been.
The children who had been stolen from the love of their real parents could never be returned. Pfeiffer had destroyed all his records. That was the real tragedy. But the past was just that, and she could do nothing to change it or the senseless pain of the victims.
She could give something back, though, and that was the house in La Jolla. She had decided to donate it to San Diego’s homeless children. She felt a sense of justice in that.
For now, she would continue to breathe new life into her relationship with Sam. Without the added baggage of yesterday, it was easier to shed the worries and insecurities that had haunted her every waking moment. It surprised her how easy it was to give everything to the man she loved. Gently, she rubbed Sam’s chest.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked softly.
She hadn’t noticed his eyes open, but now they stared at her with the gently banked fires of a man well loved.
“You, and how much I love you.”
“Christie, I’m so glad to have you back.”
He pulled her close and kissed her with all the feelings that words could not describe. “I missed you so much.”
“I’m glad to be here, Sam. This is where I want to be forever.”
She touched the tender line of his jaw, rubbing her fingertips over his lips. Feeling shy, but not unsure, she formed the question that had weighed so heavily on their relationship.
“So how many kids do you want?”
Keep reading for a sneak peak at Haunting Desire, by Erin Quinn
HAUNTING DESIRE, by Erin Quinn
Berkley April 2011, ISBN 0425238954
CHAPTER ONE
Nothing was going the way Shealy had planned.
“Dad, be reasonable. I just—”
“Reasonable?”
Donnell O’Leary demanded, his face turning an alarming shade of red.
They’d just finished dinner and were leaving the restaurant as he spoke, his outburst drawing the eyes of the other patrons. Shealy had known her dad wouldn’t be happy about her plans, but she hadn’t anticipated this. She eyed his coloring with dismay. He’d already had one heart attack—she didn’t want to give him another.
“I’ve told you this before, Shealy,” he said in a tight, angry voice. “There is nothing for you in Ireland.
Not one bleeding thing.
No reason to go back. Ever.”
“I want to visit mom’s grave,” she said calmly. “And I don’t understand why that should upset you.”
“Why would you care about seeing her grave?” he exclaimed, as if the idea were too bizarre to contemplate. “She’s not even in it.”
For a moment, his words robbed her of a response. She knew her mother’s body wasn’t in the grave—after the awful automobile accident her body had never been found. But six years had passed since her death and Shealy needed closure that still hadn’t come. It was so unlike her father, so insensitive of him not to understand that. She’d been in the hospital when they’d held the funeral services and then her dad had packed them up and moved them to Arizona. She’d never even
seen
the place where her mother rested, in spirit if not in body.
But she didn’t want to explain to him why she was so determined to go there now. She couldn’t talk about the nightmares that chased her through the restless dark. Nightmares about her mother. Horrible, gruesome dreams that told the time had come to face everything she’d tried to forget. She needed to move on and that meant first going back.
“It’s not safe there,” her father stubbornly continued as she stepped into the warm night air outside of the restaurant.
“Safe? Dad, Ireland is ten times safer than Phoenix. Their crime rate—”