Witness (48 page)

“No, it's more than the obvious things.”

With her eyes still closed, she snuggled against Sam, absorbing the warmth and force of his big, powerful body. She had noticed that for weeks now she had been able not only to connect with Sam's thoughts and feelings, but also, in a limited sense, to draw strength from him. She knew he was totally unaware when it happened, that he had no idea the link between them grew stronger, more intricate and complicated, with each contact. Mental. Physical. Emotional. Spiritual.

“Everything is going to be all right,” Sam said. “Julian will be home in a few days. The children and teachers at the school are safe now. Manton and Le Bijou Bleu will weather the storm. The authorities will capture Maynard Reeves. And I'll take good care of you.”

When his lips touched hers, she responded wholeheartedly. When his body covered hers, she arched upward, encouraging his possession. And when he thrust into her moist heat, she welcomed him, clasping him tightly. They mated in a fast, furious frenzy, sharing their pleasure, then fell into a deep, sated sleep.

Jeannie woke early. The morning sky was red, warning of bad weather. She got out of bed, slipped into her robe and set her cane on the floor.

“Come back to bed, angel. It's still early.” Sam patted her pillow.

“I want to check the weather and contact Manton before the storm hits and blocks our communication.”

“All right,” Sam said. “You check the weather and get in touch with Manton, and I'll put on some coffee. Or would you rather have tea?”

“Coffee will be fine.”

Sam slipped into a pair of trousers and headed for the bathroom.

A few minutes later, on his way to the kitchen, he paused in the doorway to the living room. The weather forecaster was predicting that hurricane-force winds would sweep the Gulf Coast by nightfall.

“Get in touch with Manton,” Sam said. “Make sure he's all right, and that he's prepared to take shelter.”

“I wish I could shake this uneasy feeling.”

“You'll feel better after you've been in touch with Manton.”

“I hope so.”

Sam filled the coffee machine with bottled water, then
spooned the gourmet blend into the filter. His stomach growled, reminding him his dinner salad had been a light repast for a man of his size. Omelets, he thought, ham-and-cheese omelets.

He was turning an enormous omelet over in the skillet when Jeannie came into the kitchen. Smiling, he looked up from his chore. Pale-faced, wide-eyed, she walked over to him and gripped his arm. She swallowed, then bit down on her lower lip.

“What's wrong?” He turned off the stove and grabbed Jeannie's shoulders.

“I can't get a response from Manton. I've been trying for the last ten minutes.”

“Maybe the storm has already hit Le Bijou Bleu.”

“No, it's not possible. The storm couldn't possibly hit the island before late this afternoon.” Tears gathered in her eyes. She squeezed his arm. “Something's wrong. Bad wrong. Manton would not have left the house this morning. He would have brought the dogs and cats inside last night.”

“We'll keep trying to contact him.”

“If I don't get a response soon, I'm going to the island.”

“No, you're not.” Sam jerked her into his arms; her cane hit the floor with a resounding thump. “There's a damn hurricane headed this way!”

“Something has happened to Manton. Don't you understand? I have to go to him.”

“If anyone goes, I'll go,” Sam said. “I'll have Lieutenant Painter send an officer over here to guard you until J.T. or Hawk can fly in from Atlanta. I'll go to Le Bijou Bleu and make sure Manton is all right.”

“No. If he's hurt, he'll need me.”

“Dammit, Jeannie, you are not going to Le Bijou Bleu, and that's all there is to it!”

Three hours later, Jeannie docked the cruiser, and Sam lifted her onto the pier. Dark storm clouds swirled overhead. An angry
wind gusted around them, blowing windrows of sand along the beach. Faint, almost indiscernible raindrops fell from the sky.

Sam carried her up the steps to the top of the hill. The wind whistled through the trees, whipping the branches.

“Stop!” Jeannie raised her voice to fight the howl of the wind. “Manton won't answer me!”

“What?” Sam shouted, knowing damn well they couldn't stay out here in the violent wind much longer.

“I've called to him repeatedly since we docked, and he isn't responding.”

Sam lowered his head, putting his mouth near her ear. “Hasn't there ever been a time when you couldn't connect telepathically with him?”

“Never. Not since the first time our minds linked, when I was nine years old.” She clutched Sam's shoulder. “He's hurt. I know he's hurt. He'd have to be unconscious not to hear me, not to be able to answer.”

“Calm down, angel. We'll find Manton and take care of him. Whatever's wrong, you'll fix it until we can get him back to Biloxi.”

Sam rushed toward the house as heavy drops of rain began falling. They were both drenched by the time he stepped up on the veranda. The front door stood wide open. Sam carried Jeannie inside. An eerie quiet filled the rooms, though the fury of the rain and wind blasted the outside of the house, making the walls tremble.

Not one dog welcomed them; not one cat slinked about their legs. Where the hell was Manton? Sam wondered. What could have happened to him? Had he taken ill? Had there been an accident?

Sam set Jeannie down on the sofa in the living room. “I'll go get you a cane. You search downstairs, and I'll search upstairs.”

Jeannie nodded her agreement and waited patiently for Sam's
return. He brought her cane and helped her to her feet, then cupped her face in his hands.

“Stay in touch with me, angel.” He looked deep into her gentle brown eyes.

I love you, Sam Dundee.

Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes.
My sweet Jeannie.
He kissed her on the mouth, quickly, then turned around and walked up the front staircase. Jeannie began her search in the dining room, then moved into the kitchen.

Manton. Please answer me.

She checked the downstairs twice, thoroughly searching every nook and cranny. She spoke to Sam telepathically, letting him know that she hadn't found Manton. He told her that he'd found nothing upstairs. No sign of Manton or his animals.

Was it possible Manton had gone down into the basement? she wondered. Had he already moved into the storm shelter when something had happened to him? Or could he have gone outside, be somewhere out there now, injured and alone?

The old stables at the back of the house! The animals bedded there, and Manton carried food and fresh water out to them every day. Perhaps he'd accidentally fallen and hit his head last night or early this morning.

I'm going out to the old stables behind the house,
Jeannie told Sam telepathically.
Meet me out there.

Wait for me,
he said.

Manton's in the stables, Sam. I know it. I can feel it.

He repeated his telepathic message.
Wait for me.

Jeannie's need to find Manton urged her through the house and out onto the back veranda. A row of trees in the backyard arched over in the wind, many of their tops touching the ground. Bending in the wind, a young sapling groaned, then toppled over, its roots lifting and falling, finally tearing loose.

Jeannie fought the wind as she made her way off the veranda. The stable doors hung open, creaking as they slammed open and shut. With the wind stinging her eyes, Jeannie squinted
and gripped her cane tightly. The black sky emptied heavy rain onto the earth, and the wind roared a warning. Instinctively Jeannie knew the tropical storm had graduated to a hurricane, and it was only a matter of time until its full force hit Le Bijou Bleu.

She made her way to the stables, slipping inside as one big door swung open. Darkness surrounded her. She felt Manton's presence. He was somewhere nearby, but he was still unconscious.

Suddenly cold, menacing evil surrounded her. For one brief second, she forgot to breathe. Her heart stood still. And in that moment she knew.
Sam!
her mind screamed.
Help me, Sam!

“I've been waiting for you,” the voice said.

Jeannie spun around. There in the doorway behind her, the faint light from outside casting shadows across his handsome freckled face, stood Maynard Reeves.

“S
O NICE OF
you to come out in this bad weather to meet me.” Reeves took a step forward, his toothy, charismatic smile spreading across his face.

Jeannie stepped backward, away from the threatening presence. “I'm not alone. Manton's here, and so is Sam.”

“I've already taken care of that stupid giant you call Manton.”

“What have you done to him?”

“He's sleeping peacefully, him and his dogs. I used a tranquilizer gun to bring your Manton down. I shot him twice, so he'll sleep a long, long time.”

Reeves moved toward her. A flash of lightning struck nearby. Jeannie gasped. Reeves laughed. Shards of light flashed through the open doors and the wide cracks in the rotting wooden walls of the old stables. A shiny 9 mm handgun glistened in Reeves's hand.

“Sam will come out here to find me.” Jeannie felt something warm and soft curl around her leg. One of Manton's cats.

“Let him come on out. I want him to find us. The witch's guardian doesn't deserve to live. I'll destroy him first, before I punish you for your evil.”

Reeves moved closer and closer. Jeannie backed farther and farther into the darkness, her escape hampered by her inability to maneuver without her cane.

Sam! Sam! Hurry. Please hurry. And be careful. Maynard Reeves has me trapped in the stables.

As she backed away from the approaching madman, Jeannie
lost her balance. The raging wind battered the old wooden stables. Lightning zigzagged from heaven to earth. Hard, heavy rain pelted the island. Jeannie fell, landing on her backside, her cane hitting the dirt floor, just out of arm's reach.

Reeves hovered, glaring down at her, his smile wide, showing all his teeth. His eyes glowed in the darkness. Jeannie scooted backward. Her heart hammered, rumbling in her ears like a hundred bass drums. The damp earth stuck to her palms as she used her hands to propel herself backward.

Reeves stomped one big foot down beside her hip. She clenched her teeth. He lowered the other foot, straddling her as he bent over, reached out and seized her. She sucked in air. He jerked her up off the floor. She hit him, her hands flailing against his chest. Reeves grabbed her by her hair, pulling her face against his, so close their noses touched. The more she struggled, the tighter he clasped her hair and the deeper his fingers bit into the gun he held pressed against her back.

Reeves licked her face, from chin to forehead. Jeannie closed her eyes, struggling to make contact with her attacker's inner thoughts and feelings. Anger! Hatred! Passion to possess her power! If only she could hook onto his emotions more firmly, she could begin drawing them from him.

“No!” Reeves screamed, shoving her away from him with such force that she fell backward onto the floor, her fragile body hitting the damp earth with a jarring thud. “You will not use your wicked talents to possess me, witch! I will destroy you, and then God will bless me with your powers.”

From her position on the floor, all Jeannie could see was the trembling outline of Reeves's body. Even from several feet away, she could feel his rage. His murderous intent swirled around her, more powerful and far uglier than the raging storm assaulting the island.

The metallic taste of fear coated her tongue. A sour, salty bile rose in her throat.

Stay where you are, Jeannie. Don't move. Don't make a
sound. Act as if nothing has changed.
Sam cautioned Jeannie telepathically as he entered the stables, his footsteps indiscernible, masked by the storm's fury.

Be careful, Sam. Reeves has a gun.

Reeves held the 9 mm in his shaky hand, aiming it directly at Jeannie. He laughed, the sound hysterical and shrill. “Shooting you would be so easy, but not appropriate for you, Jeannie Alverson, spawn of Satan. No, a witch must burn. You will be a sacrifice to the Lord.”

Sam Dundee swooped down on Reeves like a hawk clawing its helpless prey. Grabbing Reeves by the shoulders, Sam lifted him and tossed him into the air. Reeves shrieked as he landed against the wall, his gun sailing out of his hand and disappearing in the darkness.

Stay where you are, Jeannie,
Sam told her.

A slash of lightning illuminated the stables momentarily. In a split second, Jeannie saw Sam, his face contorted with rage, his Ruger aimed in Reeves's general direction. He fired a shot. Reeves bellowed. When a second and then a third brilliant explosion of lightning hit the island, she saw it glimmer off Reeves's gun, which lay halfway between Sam and him. Reeves grappled for the gun with one hand while he clutched at his bloody shoulder with the other.

Another shot rang out, then another. She had no idea who was doing the shooting or whether either bullet had hit its target. Pushing herself up into a sitting position, she watched while two shadowy figures lunged headlong at each other. She could distinguish which man was which solely from Sam Dundee's massive size. He was a couple of inches taller and much heavier than Maynard Reeves.

The sound of fists hitting flesh reverberated inside the stables. Thuds. Thumps. Knocks. Ragged breathing. Sam Dundee, his back to the outer wall, landed a resounding blow to Reeve's midsection, knocking the breath out of him and laying him out flat on his back.

Sam stood over Reeves, his chest heaving. Jeannie waited for Reeves to stand. He didn't. Another shot rang out. Sam's body jerked from the impact as the bullet ripped through his side. Jeannie screamed.

Reeves lifted his shoulders off the floor, gripping the 9 mm in his trembling hands. “God is on my side! He will help me destroy both the witch and her guardian.”

In one quick, practiced move, Sam lifted his leg, pivoted around and slammed his foot into Reeves's hands, plummeting his gun into dark oblivion. Before Reeves had a chance to react, Sam brought his foot around again and knocked his opponent flat on the floor.

The roar of the hurricane-force winds shook the stables. The wall directly behind Sam collapsed. Jeannie screamed again. The old timbers fell on top of Sam, knocking him to his knees, then flat on his face, covering his body completely.

The wind roared like a mighty jet plane. Rain poured into the stables, washing over the remains of the toppled outer wall.

“Sam!”

No response.

Sam!

She tried again to contact Sam, but he didn't answer. He had to be unconscious. And with the weight of those heavy old boards crushing his body, he was probably seriously injured. She had to go to him. Help him. Save him.

Lifting herself onto her knees, she felt around the damp dirt floor for her walking stick. Suddenly she saw her cane, lying several feet to her left. Then realization dawned on her. There was light inside the stables, pouring in from outside.

The deafening rumble subsided. The wind stopped. The air became perfectly calm. Jeannie knew enough about tropical storms to know that the island was encased in the eye of the storm, that eerie, calm core in the center of the massive, spiraling clouds and driving rain.

Jeannie crawled on her knees across the stables, clutched
her cane and lifted herself up off the floor. She scurried to the pile of heavy boards lying in a heap, completely covering Sam Dundee.

Sam, you're going to be all right. I'll take care of you. I promise.

She had to remove enough of the debris to touch some part of his body, to clasp his hand, to caress his head. Only then could she begin her loving ministrations; only then could she work her magic and save Sam's life. Balancing herself with her cane, she eased down on her knees and laid her cane aside. Finding the intact boards far too heavy to lift, she clawed at the rubble. She saw Sam's hand. She reached for him.

“You're not going to save him!” Maynard Reeves jerked Jeannie off the ground.

She gasped. It couldn't be. Sam had shot Reeves and knocked him unconscious.

Fighting Reeves proved fruitless, but Jeannie fought him all the same. Although he'd been no match for Sam, he was much larger and far stronger than she was. He dragged her out of the stables, through the huge opening made by the wall's collapse. Jeannie hit him repeatedly; he didn't seem to feel her blows.

All the while he tugged her around the house and toward the beach, Jeannie struggled. She could not—would not—allow this monster, who called himself a man of God, to triumph. If he succeeded in getting her off the island, they were both doomed to drown in the storm, and there would be no one to save Sam and Manton. Even if help arrived in a day or two, it might well be too late for these two men she so dearly loved.

Sam. Sam. Oh, my darling, please hear me.

Silence.

Reeves halted at the top of the hill overlooking the far side of the island, where he'd docked his small boat. “I'm taking you straight to the Righteous Light Church, where my disciples are preparing for your sacrifice.”

“No!” Jeannie screamed. “Don't you realize we'll be killed if we leave the island?”

“The storm has passed,” Reeves said. “God has calmed the seas for my safe passage.”

“The storm hasn't passed. We're right in the middle of the eye of the storm. Don't you know what that means?”

“You can't trick me with your lies, witch.”

Reeves pulled her into his arms. Jeannie struggled. Threading his fingers through her hair, he cupped her scalp. “When you draw your last breath, the Almighty will bestow your powers on me. He will cleanse them of evil and infuse them with his glory.”

Manton. Manton, can you hear me?
If only she could rouse Manton. He was in the stables, not far from Sam. If she could make him hear her, she could tell him that Sam needed him.
Manton! Jeannie?
Manton asked, their link wavering and fragile because of his grogginess.
Jeannie, where are you? Are you all right?

The stable wall fell in on Sam. He's hurt. Maynard Reeves is trying to take me off the island. I need your help.
Jeannie closed her eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks that Manton was alive and conscious enough for the two of them to communicate.
We're in the eye of the storm, and Reeves doesn't realize that we can't sail to the mainland. Sam will die without my help.

You must overpower Reeves,
Manton told her.

But how?
she asked.
I'm not strong enough.

Yes, you are strong enough. Far stronger than you know. Reach inside yourself. Draw strength from the depth of your love for Sam,
Manton said.
Concentrate. Focus all your energy on saving Sam, on saving his life.

Can you help Sam?
Jeannie asked.
Are you able to move?

Not yet. But soon. The feeling is returning to my body. Be strong, little one.

Reeves licked Jeannie's face. She cringed.

“If you won't listen to me, won't believe what I'm telling you about the storm—” Jeannie looked heavenward, wondering just how long they had before the eye passed and the storm's fury consumed the island once again “—then at least consider the possibility that we'd be safer in my cruiser than in your small boat.”

Reeves licked her face again. “I can taste the evil in you, but I can also taste the power. The power that will soon be mine.”

“We'll never make it to the mainland alive in your little boat.”

“Perhaps you're right about taking your cruiser.” Gripping her painfully about the waist, Reeves tugged her in the opposite direction, toward the other side of the island.

Manton?

Yes, Jeannie?

I have to find the strength to stop Reeves and save Sam.

Your love for Sam is your strength. No power on earth is greater.

Jeannie focused on the incredible power surging through her body. She had to overpower Reeves; it was the only way she would be free to go to Sam and save his life. Nothing mattered except saving Sam.

She felt the tightening of her muscles, the hardening of her biceps. She could hardly believe what was happening to her. A few times with Sam, she had realized she was absorbing a small fraction of his strength, but nothing this forceful. Manton had been right. There was no power on earth greater than love.

Jeannie grabbed Maynard Reeves by his shoulders, tightening her hands, lifting him off his feet and away from her. He yelped aloud, fear and amazement bright in his eyes.

“Put me down, you demon-possessed witch!”

Jeannie flung Reeves from her. His body landed on a muddy
patch of ground several feet from her. Jeannie slumped to her knees, her crippled legs as weak as ever.

Rising into a sitting position, Reeves glared at her. “I am not afraid to fight the devil, for the Lord—” Reeves lifted his arms toward the sky “—will give me the victory.” Reeves stood, his once charismatic, boyish smile twisted into an evil leer.

Raindrops hit Jeannie on the face. The wind whistled through the trees. The eye had passed quickly; the storm would be upon them again in a matter of minutes.

Reeves took a step toward Jeannie. She looked to his left, where a row of palm trees swayed in the wind, bending their heads as if awaiting execution. Lightning crackled in the sky, followed by the rumble of thunder. In the distance, Jeannie heard the storm's deadly roar.

Reeves took another step, and then another. Jeannie scooted backward.
Concentrate on saving Sam, on the depth of your love for him,
she told herself.

When Reeves was upon her, Jeannie prayed for help. A bolt of lightning hit the enormous old live oak directly behind Reeves, splitting it apart as if it had been hacked in two by a giant ax. Jeannie watched in horror and fascination as one half of the tree uprooted and toppled, crushing Maynard Reeves in its downward path. He screamed once, then fell silent. Blood oozed from his mouth. His sightless eyes stared off into space.