A Deadly Love (29 page)

“Hot damn.” The sheriff pulled out an evidence bag and collected the hair. Standing, he scanned the woods. “I wonder why he stopped.”

Jesse scratched his head. “Could be he was tired and needed to rest.”

“Or he was checking to make sure the coast was clear before getting any closer to town.” Dillon fisted his hands on his hips and turned in a slow circle, looking for a hint of disturbance in the underbrush. “He took care to cover his trail from here on out. Damn it, I can’t be sure which way he went.”

“Unless I’m mistaken, the Woodvale Inn and the doc’s house are through the trees up ahead,” Harley said.

“The school is over to the left.” Dillon kicked a pinecone, sending it ricocheting off a tree. “I bet he followed Brooke from the school. He probably saw her walking into town with Zack and decided to risk grabbing her during the day.”

“So he either left his car near here, or this was his destination all along,” Jesse said.

The sheriff reached for his radio. “We’ll expand the search, check with business owners along the main road. Maybe someone noticed Brooke walk by and will remember who was in the vicinity at the time. Christ, I
spoke
to her not far from here, gave her a lecture on walking alone, but I’m one hundred percent certain no one was following her.”

“He could have stayed hidden until you passed, or maybe he was waiting further up the road.” Dillon’s temper, strung tighter than a guy line, snapped. The need to blame someone other than himself overruled common sense. He jabbed his old pal in the chest. “Shit, Harley, why in the name of God didn’t you give her a ride?”

Harley pushed back, and his voice was nearly a shout. “I was on a freaking call. You think I don’t regret letting her go?”

“Christ all mighty, boys!” Jesse stepped between them and held up his hands. “Casting blame won’t get us anywhere. I say we check every room in the Woodvale Inn. Maybe he has Brooke and Stephanie stashed in one of them.” His rheumy eyes blinked against the brightening sky. “There must be a reason he came back this direction, and the Inn is damn near empty all winter.”

Stepping away, Harley’s shoulders sagged. “I can’t imagine he’d be able to hide one woman, let alone two, in such a public place, but it won’t hurt to check.”

Dillon turned and stared at the patch of moss where Brooke had lain, awash in sunlight.
Bound, unconscious, or both?
Frustration and anger filled him. The pressure in his chest built until he thought something might explode. He pressed a hand to his heart.

“You okay?” his grandfather asked, his brows lowering across worried eyes.

“Hell no, I’m not okay. I won’t be okay until we find Brooke and exterminate the motherfucker who did this to her.”

****

Brooke woke slowly. Her head pounded, and her stomach rolled. The room was blacker than a Halloween cat.
Why are the curtains drawn?
She scrunched her brow, trying to remember, and the throbbing increased ten fold.

She groaned and felt the mattress next to her sink. A small hand stroked her brow. Not Dillon. Her grandmother? June’s usual lavender fragrance was missing. Brook’s nose twitched. The room stank of—mold?

“Easy, honey. I bet you have a king-sized headache. I know I did.”

Not her grandmother, but the voice was familiar. She tried to speak, cleared her dry throat, and tried again. “What happened?”

“That psycho grabbed you. He probably hit you after he chloroformed you.” The voice thickened with tears. “I’m so sorry, Brooke.”

Memory crashed down on her. Running footsteps, a hard arm across her chest, a sweet smell, and then—nothing. She drew in a gasping breath as realization dawned. The voice belonged to Stephanie.

“Mother of God,” she whispered.

“She’s not likely to help us. I’ve been praying until I’m blue in the face, and it hasn’t done a bit of good.” The tears were gone, the tone hard and unforgiving. “Is Marnie dead? What about Tricia Eaton?”

Brooke swallowed against the panic clawing at her throat. “They found Tricia’s body not long after you disappeared. And Marnie...” She stopped speaking and took shallow breaths. Darkness closed in around her.”

“Stay with me, girl. Don’t you dare faint.”

The other woman’s voice tugged at her. She felt the lumpy pillow beneath her head, smelled mold and the sour reek of sweat, felt something cold and hard dragging on her ankle. She shifted, and her legs tangled in a long skirt. Reaching down, she touched the material. Cotton by the feel of it.
Where are my jeans?

“Tell me,” Stephanie whispered. “I have to know.”

Closing her eyes against the throbbing pain in her head, she forced out the words. “Marnie was killed over the weekend.”

“Damn him.” Her voice broke. “Damn him to hell and back.”

Brooke could barely squeeze the question past the constriction in her chest. “Damn who?”

“You don’t know?”

She shook her head and winced at the pain behind her eyeballs. She tried to imagine the man responsible for the brutal deaths of three women, for imprisoning them in this dark, damp room, and failed. Her fingers dug into the thin mattress beneath her.

“Elliot. It’s Elliot.” Stephanie spat the name as if it were poison. “Sick freak!”

“What? Why?” The cry was wrenched from her throat. “My God, why would he do this to us?”

“He just mumbles a lot of crap about making his heart whole again. For Caroline.”

Brooke fumbled for Stephanie’s hand, clasped it in hers, and squeezed. She was shaking so hard, the metal frame of the cot rattled. “I don’t understand. I was never more than friends with Elliot. Maybe the others were—”

“No.” Stephanie spoke sharply. “Marnie and I spent hours trying to figure out why he chose us. And before he grabbed me, she and Tricia debated the subject to death. Neither ever dated Elliot.”

“And Tricia was here with Cybil before that,” she said flatly. “Was she the first?”

“I think so. Tricia told Marnie that Cybil had pretty much lost it by the time he took her. I don’t doubt it. Being in here with someone to talk to is bad enough, but alone...” She shuddered. “Maybe that’s why he keeps two women at a time, so we don’t lose our minds. The last couple of days were unbelievably horrible.” Her voice choked with tears. “I didn’t want him to kidnap anyone else, I swear I didn’t. But waiting alone in the dark, I thought I’d go crazy!”

Brooke squeezed her eyes tightly closed, afraid to hear more. But letting her imagination run wild was worse than knowing the truth. “Waiting for what, exactly?”

“Why, honey, waiting for the game to begin.” Stephanie laughed, a hysterical sound that echoed in the darkness. “We’re just pawns in a sick game. He toys with us the way we toyed with his affections, or so he says. Listening to him explain it, his voice so earnest and sincere, makes me want to puke!”

A hollow roaring invaded her ears. Clinging to Stephanie’s hand, she fought against it. “He raped you?” she whispered.

“No, not that, thank God!” Her hand quivered as she touched Brooke’s cheek. “He comes in the night and takes one of us into the woods, blindfolded and bound. Then he unties you, smiles, wishes you luck, and lets you go.” Her voice rose. “Just when you think you might actually escape, when your heart is bursting with hope, he hunts you down and drags you back to this hole, wherever it is.”

Brooke’s pulse pounded. “Every night?”

“No, it’s hit and miss. Sometimes he just leaves food and takes the chamber pot to empty. Sometimes he doesn’t come at all.”

“Why don’t we jump him when he comes in? Surely the two of us could—”

“We’re chained to the cots. There’s a shackle on your ankle,” she said flatly. “And he has a knife. Elliot may be crazier than a loon, but he’s cautious.” Her voice changed. “Lately, he’s acted different. I don’t know, sort of skittish and paranoid.”

“What do you mean?”

“The last few nights—” Her voice quavered and she steadied it. “—since he took Marnie and didn’t bring her back, he’s been incoherent, rambling on and on about how
the last one
screwed up his plan.”

Lying on the cot, listening to Stephanie speak so calmly about the unimaginable, a giggle burst from her lips. Laughter turned to tears, and she swiped at her cheeks. “Can we assume I’m the
one
in question?”

“I guess. What did you do to upset him?”

Brooke frowned. “Dillon said he takes women on either a full or new moon. Saturday was a full moon, and I was out of town. Sunday, Otis heard something outside the house, but I didn’t go to investigate. Then last night he poisoned my dog.” Her voice caught. “But Dillon was with me when we found him.”

“Not being able to get to you must have been killing him. Good.
Good!
”

“He broke his pattern and grabbed me in broad daylight.” Her breath hitched. “I foolishly let my guard down, thinking I was safe during the day. Harley warned me to be more careful not five minutes before Elliot snatched me off my own street.”

“He didn’t like kidnapping you the way he did. When he brought you down here, he was sweating bullets, ranting about the risk he was taking. We must be close to town, because I swear I heard voices in the distance, sort of high pitched, like a flock of birds screeching.” She shrugged. “Anyway, it isn’t your fault you were kidnapped. You had no way of knowing he’d try something so crazy.”

“But I
should
have known better.” She pressed her hands to her pounding temples. “Dillon is going to go ballistic! And my poor grandma...” Tears slid down her face.

“That’s the worst part of it, knowing the people who love you are dying inside, waiting for the game to play out.” Her voice lowered. “How are Rod and my babies?”

“Your in-laws are helping him. I’m not sure how much the kids know. When I’ve seen Rod, he looks like a man possessed. It’s hard to explain. He stares right through you like he’s focused on something that isn’t there.” She let out a shuddering breath. “Dillon told me he’s hounded the FBI agents and Harley since your abduction, never once giving up hope of finding you.”

“When they discover my body, it’ll kill him,” she said softly.

“No!” Brooke grabbed her friend by the arm and shook her. “You can’t think like that. We’ll find a way to escape. I swear to God we will!”

“I thought so, too, in the beginning.” She sighed. “But staying positive…” Her voice broke. “I truly believe I’m never getting out of here, not alive anyway.”

“Don’t let him win, Steph. We can’t let him win.”

****

Dillon waited outside the school for the bell to ring. Worry ate at his stomach lining, and he popped a couple more antacids from the half empty bottle in his pocket. The chalky taste made him gag.

The police had spent the whole day searching for a clue to Brooke’s whereabouts and come up empty. With each passing hour, his fear increased. If the killer willingly broke his pattern and took her during the day, what else might he do? Had he seized an opportunity or given up on his methodical plan completely? Would he wait until the next new moon to butcher Stephanie or act sooner? The horror and uncertainty of it was giving him an ulcer.

Otis strained at his leash, and he jerked the dog back on his butt. “Sit, damn it.” The dog whined. Sighing, he scratched his ears. “Sorry boy. You’re probably wondering where she is, too.”

The bell rang, and kids poured through the open door. He smiled at Zack as he ran up, accompanied by a freckled boy with straw-colored hair.

“Dad, can Brad come over? It’s not raining, and we want to build a fort in the woods.”

The two stared up at him with hope-filled eyes. He hated to say no, dreaded the thought of telling Zack that Brooke was missing.
How do I tell a six-year-old a woman he’s grown to love is in the hands of a serial killer?
He swallowed against the knot in his throat. “Uh, this afternoon isn’t great timing.”

“
But Dad!
”

Caroline hurried over, her eyes wide as they met his. “Brad Singleton, go get on the bus this minute. You know you aren’t allowed to go home with a friend without a note. You’ll have to plan a play date for some other time.”

The boy rolled his eyes and slouched away. Zack heaved a sigh before dropping on his knees to hug the dog. “He doesn’t look sick anymore.”

“No, I think he’s feeling much better.” Dillon rested his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go play for a few minutes while I talk to your teacher.”

“Okay.” Taking the leash, he ran with Otis across the schoolyard.

Caroline glanced around at the parents departing with students in tow and lowered her voice. “Please tell me the rumor I heard is some horrible mistake.” She bit her lip and stared at him.

His stomach burned. “Christ, I wish I could. Brooke disappeared shortly after she dropped Zack off this morning.”

She covered her mouth with a shaking hand. “Elliot called me at lunch and said a deputy stopped by his house to ask if he’d seen anyone hanging around your street this morning.”

Dillon frowned. “Why wasn’t Elliot at school?”

“The poor guy caught a bug from one of the kids. He took a sick day and called for a substitute. Anyway, after the deputy left, he went to the market for some cold medicine and bumped into Carter. The doc told him they were looking for Brooke.”

Dillon ran a hand through his hair and pressed his fingers against his throbbing temple. “The news is probably all over town by now. I guess I’m lucky Zack didn’t hear about it on the playground.”

“Do the police have any clues?”

“None that have produced results.” He focused on breathing evenly. Giving in to the urge to punch something wouldn’t help. “I’d better take Zack home.”

Caroline touched his sleeve. “I’ll keep Brooke in my prayers.”

Praying hadn’t helped Cybil or Tricia or Marnie, but he knew Caroline meant well. “Thanks.” Turning, he scanned the playground for his son and frowned. “He was here a moment ago.”