A Whisper in the Dark (39 page)

She was still screaming when Bradley slid a chrome semiauto from beneath his robe. A triumphant light entered his eyes as he aimed it at John. “Now we even the scale,” he said.

The pistol wobbled in John’s hand. Bradley ran the tip of the knife along the hollow of Julia’s throat. She screamed and yanked against the ropes. A thin trail of crimson followed the point this time. The sick fuck was cutting her, hurting her. And John knew that no matter what he did now this was not going to end well. The best he could do was pull off a shot and hope his aim was true enough to stop Parker.

“Such a pretty throat, don’t you think?” the other man cooed. “You’ve run you tongue along it, haven’t you? You’ve been inside her body, felt the heat of her lust wrapped around you.”

John fired. The weapon exploded like a stick of dynamite going off in his hand. He’d gone for a head shot. The other man’s body jerked like a puppet on a string. At first John thought he’d hit his mark. Then the other man’s hand went up. John caught a glimpse of chrome and a second explosion rocked his brain. The bullet slammed into his bicep like a baseball bat slamming in a home run. He felt the bone snap. An electrical shock of pain zinged down his arm to his fingers.

The pain sent him to his knees. He looked down, saw bright red blood dripping from his fingertips to the floor.

“John!
John!
”

Julia’s voice pulled him back from shock. He looked up, saw her struggling against the binds, her eyes wild with terror, her face as pale as death.

“I’m okay,” he ground out.

But he wasn’t. The amount of blood on the floor told him he was seriously injured. He looked at Bradley, noticed the blood on the right side of the other man’s head. John had hit his mark after all. Only Bradley was still standing.

“You shot off my fucking ear!” Bradley screamed, his voice high-pitched with panic. “You shot it off!”

Blood leaked between the Bradley’s fingers and dripped onto his shoulder. He’d dropped the knife; it lay on the floor at his feet. He held the pistol at his side, but his finger was no longer on the trigger.

John glanced down, spotted the H&K on the floor two feet away. In one fluid motion, he bent and scooped up the gun with his left hand, brought it up. His vision tunneled on the spot between Bradley’s eyes. The other man lunged at his gun, but he wasn’t fast enough.

John fired four times in quick succession. He didn’t hear the blasts. Vaguely he was aware of the dark spray of blood on the altar. Parker Bradley collapsed. His body heaved twice and then he lay still.

The room dipped as John crossed to her. He could hear her crying openly. Saying his name. His vision was beginning to gray. He prayed he could hang onto consciousness long enough to untie her . . .

“John.” She raised her head as he approached the table. “You came. I knew you would. Oh, dear God, you’re bleeding.”

“I’m okay.”

“No . . . your arm.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He tore off his jacket as he crossed to her. Even though it was wet, he covered her with it. “How badly are you hurt?”

“He cut me. I don’t think it’s bad. He drugged me.”

Using his left hand, John tugged down the jacket and looked at the thin trail of blood that ran from her throat to her collarbone. Relief swept through him when he realized the injury was minor.

“You’re going to be all right.” Using his left hand he untied the ropes binding her wrists. He couldn’t stand seeing her like that. More than anything he wanted to feel her arms around him. He wanted to feel her warm and alive against him.

Once her hands were free, she sat up and threw her arms around him. He could feel her trembling. Her tears were warm and wet against the side of his face. Her breaths came in fast, shallow bursts in his ear. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispered.

“Me, too.”

“I’m sorry I missed the shot,” he said.

“You stopped him. John, you saved my life.” Pulling away, she gazed into his eyes. “I knew you would.”

“You were smart for making that call.”

“I couldn’t bear the thought of dying without ever telling you how much I love you.”

He wanted to respond, but he didn’t have the slightest idea what to say. There were too many emotions jamming up the pipeline. Blood loss was making him dizzy.

In the distance, he heard the cops making entry. Shouting. The sound of boots against concrete. He wanted to turn around, tell them everything that had happened, but he couldn’t seem to let go of Julia.

“Never . . . going to . . . let you go.” But he could feel his grip on her waning, his strength leaving him with every drop of blood that hit the floor at his feet. Surprise rippled through him when his knees buckled. He blinked at Julia, trying desperately to keep her face in focus. The face he loved more than his own life.

“Easy does it, bro.”

Somehow he’d ended up on the floor. He looked around. Mitch was kneeling beside him. “Let’s see if we can get that bleeding stopped,” Mitch said.

“Fucker shot me,” John murmured.

“No shit.”

“Bradley?”

Mitch shook his head.

“Good.” John looked for Julia; he didn’t like having her out of his sight. “Julia . . .”

“She’s okay, bro. You saved her life. You just lay still. You’re bleeding like a damn stuck pig.”

“Nice . . .”

Fighting dizziness, John raised his head and looked around. Julia was being tended to by a female patrol officer who’d brought her a warming blanket. A few feet away, Parker Bradley stared into eternity.

“You’re going to be okay,” Mitch said. “Ambulance is on the way. Just hang tight, buddy.”

Vaguely, John was aware of his brother taking his hand. He wasn’t sure why he thought of Franklin Watts at that moment, but he found himself wondering if he’d been as much of a comfort to the man as his brother was at that moment.

God, he hoped so.

And then he slipped into darkness.

EPILOGUE

Julia stood behind the counter at the Book Merchant
counting petty cash and humming along with Frank Sinatra’s “Fly Me to the Moon.” Six days had passed since the terrible night Parker Bradley had tried to kill her. It was her first day back at the shop, and she was trying hard not to think about it. Hard to do when a single, violent event had changed her life so dramatically.

But it was incredibly healing to be back and doing what she loved. Some people might think that was a small thing, but not Julia. This tiny, dusty shop with its creaky floors and drafty windows was the center of her life. It was her home and her family rolled into one. She would never again take any of it for granted.

The nightmares were bad, but the therapist her father had recommended told her they wouldn’t last. It was her mind’s way of dealing with an emotional and physical trauma and putting it into perspective. Eventually, her therapist had said, Julia would be able to put it behind her and move on with her life. She hoped so.

She wasn’t the only person who’d been hurt that night. She certainly wasn’t the only one suffering. So was her father. The instant John called and told him about Parker Bradley, Benjamin Wainwright had chartered a private chopper from Baton Rouge and flown directly to the hospital where Julia had been taken. He’d rushed to her bedside like a protective mama bear fearing for an injured cub. He blamed himself for what had happened. After all, he had been the one to bring Parker Bradley into her life. Julia had tried to reassure him that was not the case. He’d had no way of knowing that beneath the benign facade lay the twisted heart of a killer. It was the first time in her life she’d ever seen Benjamin Wainwright cry.

The police had linked Bradley to the cemetery murder. Evidence found in his apartment also linked him to several other unsolved crimes in Baton Rouge and Shreveport. Crimes including stalking, sexual assault and murder. Julia had learned just that morning from Mitch that Parker Bradley had journaled much of his twisted obsessions and fanaticism. The journal told a chilling tale of an abused boy, a troubled teenager and a man’s decline into insanity.

She hadn’t seen John since that night when the EMTs had carried him away, bleeding and unconscious. He’d been transported to Charity Hospital; she’d been taken to Tulane. Only later did she learn that John had spent the first twenty-four hours in critical condition.

He was the one bright spot in the darkest period of her life. Even before she’d been released from the hospital, she’d wanted desperately to see him. To touch him and thank him for saving her life. When she’d been released the next day, Claudia had driven her directly to Charity. John had been transferred to a regular room. But like a sentry, Mitch had come out and told her John didn’t want visitors. The rejection had hurt, but Julia had respected his wishes.

She waited another day before trying to call him. But once again Mitch was there to screen his calls, telling her John would return her call.

But he never did.

Once he was released, she’d called his apartment number and left messages, but he hadn’t returned her calls. She’d tried his cell phone, only to discover it had been disconnected. She might be a little hardheaded, but she could take a hint.

As long as she had the shop and her friends and family, she would get through this. As long as she stayed busy, she could endure the nightmares. Someday she might even be able to put the terrible night behind her. But there was no way she’d ever get over John.

Her heart broke every time she thought of spending the rest of her life without him. Such a decent man. So courageous. So willing to accept responsibility, even when he didn’t have to. She missed him with a ferocity that took her breath away. The ache deep in her chest wasn’t lessening with each passing day as her therapist had suggested. Instead it seemed to grow a little more every day, like a cancer that would eventually leach the life from her and leave nothing but a shell.

Finishing with the petty cash, Julia looked up at her sister, who was sitting at her desk, punching computer keys and grumbling about the new inventory system. Jacob was using a feather duster on the antique set of encyclopedias she’d purchased from Mr. Thornbrow just that morning. Life went on. Everything was going to be fine. She could take comfort in that. Like her therapist said, healing was just going to take some time . . .

The bell jingled, announcing a customer. Julia looked up from the cash register, a smile she didn’t feel pasted to her face. Every nerve in her body went taut when John came through the door. He was wearing a battered brown bomber jacket, black boots and faded blue jeans. The right sleeve of the jacket hung unused at his side. Beneath she could see the blue and white fabric of a sling. He looked thinner, his face a little more lean. But he still filled the entire room with his presence.

He scanned the shop. Julia’s heart began to pound when his gaze met hers. She knew it was a silly response considering he was probably here to officially break things off. That would be just like John. Do it face to face even if it was going to hurt more.

“Hey,” he said, crossing to her.

Feeling her cheeks heat, Julia looked blindly down at the cash in the drawer and promptly forgot the figure she had yet to jot on the daily sales form. She wanted to say something witty. Something that would let him know his showing up now to end things before they’d ever really had a chance to begin wasn’t affecting her one way or another. But her voice had suddenly taken leave.

“Julia?” She started at the sound of her sister’s voice. Only then did she realize Claudia must have noticed her discomfort and come up behind her. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” But Julia wasn’t fine. Her heart was pounding. Her face was hot. Her chest was aching so bad that if she hadn’t known better she might have thought she was having a heart attack.

“You’re shaking.” Jacob set a reassuring hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

“It’s cold,” Julia said dumbly.

“That’s it.” Jacob raised his hands. “I’m asking him to leave.”

If Julia hadn’t suddenly been so nervous, she might have laughed at the absurdity of the situation. At that moment she honestly didn’t know what she’d do without Claudia and Jacob. But this was one thing they could not handle for her. She needed to do it on her own. “Guys, thank you. But I can handle this.”

Shaking his head, Jacob shot John a withering glare as he went back to his dusting. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

Giving her a final, knowing look, Claudia squeezed her hand. “Same goes,” she said and slowly walked back to the desk.

Julia’s heart was still pounding when she turned to face John. He was standing at the counter, looking at her as if she were some complex math equation he’d never learned about in college. From two feet away, she could smell the masculine tang of his aftershave. The familiarity of it wrapped around her heart and squeezed until she felt she couldn’t breathe.

“How are you?” he asked.

She tried to smile, but felt her lips tremble and she pursed them instead. “I’m good. Great, in fact. This is my first day back and things couldn’t be better.” Even to her the proclamation sounded phony.

His eyes narrowed as if she’d just told a big fat lie and he didn’t believe a word of it. “You look good,” he said. “I mean, aside from the bruises.”

“Thanks.” It was difficult, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. “How’s the arm?”

“Hurts like a son of a bitch.” His smile nearly disarmed her, but she steeled herself against it. “They put in a titanium pin and a few bolts.”

“Going to be fun at the airport.”

“Yeah.”

He spotted the copy of
A Gentleman’s Touch
on the counter and smiled. “How did Benjamin take to the idea of his daughter being an author?”