Deadly Dozen: 12 Mysteries/Thrillers (310 page)

#

Marisa flipped through the pages of the new teen magazine she’d purchased at Millie’s. She studied the fashions feverishly, her dreamy eyes recreating her own staid wardrobe into the sexy outfits the girls were wearing. Her father would kill her. She laughed. She’d probably get thrown out of school.

A frown marred her pretty face. Her mother had told her she’d named her Marisa because it was different. She’d never be different here. Nothing ever happened in Glade Springs. Her life sucked. Here she was, on a Friday night, sitting at a desk waiting for one of their two esteemed guests to need something. Or maybe on the off chance someone else would check in.

Marisa thought about Gavin McAllister, her lips curving into what she hoped was a sexy smile. Now, there was different. She liked the way he looked at her when she’d told him about Johanna. At least he hadn’t treated her like a child. There was something wrong with Johanna’s accident. She knew it. And she hoped he uncovered it. Then he’d tell everyone that she had been his informant. Maybe then Robby would take her seriously.

A sound from the hallway broke her fantasy, and she glanced around nervously. No one should be here but her. Mr. Green had left about an hour ago, and Mr. McAllister wasn’t due to return until tomorrow.

She glanced around again. She wasn’t supposed to leave her station, but what if he’d returned and she’d missed him? She checked her image in the mirror behind the desk. The clerk had told her the blue blouse made her look older, more mature. She grinned, fluffing her auburn curls and applied the pink lip-gloss she kept hidden in her pocket. Her mother would kill her if she found out that she wasn’t wearing a bra today. She frowned as she preened in front of the mirror. It wasn’t all that noticeable. He hadn’t noticed earlier. This time he would notice. She’d make sure of that. Wetting her lips, just a little, the way the magazine had said, Marisa left the counter. Her heart started to beat a little faster. Excitement. This is what it felt like to be alive. The hallway was dimly lit, but she noticed Gavin’s door was ajar. Perfect, she didn’t even have to knock. She was just checking to see if he needed anything, right?

“Mr. McAllister …” Marisa stopped just inside the door, her eyes wide, taking in the disarray of the room. “What are you doing?”

She wanted to say something else, scream, but the cloth pressed over her mouth and nose was making her feel funny. The smell was familiar. She tried to remember what it was. A hand slipped under her blouse, cupping the small breast. Marisa tried to pull away, but her arms were too tired. She felt herself being lifted, placed on the bed. The smell pulled her deeper. No, she had to fight to stay awake. She had to tell him she wouldn’t tell anyone. Had to make him stop. Everything seemed to be happening from a distance. Marisa fought her way through the fog, hearing his curse as the zipper on her pants stuck. Hearing the fabric rip, feeling the cool draft as her body was exposed. He lifted the cloth from her mouth, shaking her awake. “You’re going to scream for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?” He placed a pillow over her mouth and nose, just as a sharp pain between her legs brought her to full consciousness. Her eyes filled with tears as she stared into the black eyes above her and screamed.
Scream for me, sweetheart. Scream for Daddy
. Marisa screamed with every painful thrust until lack of oxygen made her body go limp, her mind numb. He continued to grunt and thrust long after her body became limp and lifeless. His climax was exhilarating. He was renewed. Humming his favorite tune, he jotted the words on the small pink card.
A gift from me. You’re next
.

It’s stupid to leave the card. They’ll know it was you. Then they’ll come here
.

He grinned.
Shut up, bitch
. He didn’t have to worry about them coming here. They were already here. He knew who Gavin McAllister really was. Which meant the other two wouldn’t be far behind. That was a good thing. He could kill them all right here.

The voice in his head no longer bothered him. He glanced around the room. No time for his usual clean up. Dumb sons-of-bitches. He knew all about DNA. He chuckled, as he placed the card on the nightstand and doused the body and bed with gasoline. A hot fire could destroy just about anything. Striking the match he tossed it on the bed and exited the room, leaving the door open. The smoke would be noticeable in minutes. Slipping out the rear entrance, he walked quickly up the street. Let them come. He was invincible.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

After hours of relating to Carl everything that he’d found in Glade Springs, Gavin fell into bed exhausted. His body ached, and his mind felt numb as the sleepless nights caught up with him. In seconds, he drifted into an uneasy sleep and found himself once again in the swirling pink mist. He couldn’t breathe. Struggling, he tried to reach up and push the pillow away from his face. His arms were heavy, too tired to move. Gavin could hear the grunts, the whispered words,
Scream, sweetheart. Scream for Daddy
. Bile rose in his throat, choking him. Reaching deep inside, he pulled on every ounce of willpower and screamed.

“Dammit, Gavin, wake up!”

Gavin’s eyes jerked open, dazed and confused. “What happened?”

“You scared the fucking bejesus out of me, that’s what happened,” Carl said, his hands quivering as he struggled to light a cigarette. “Screaming in the middle of the night like some kind of goddamn banshee. What the hell’s wrong with you? Probably woke up the whole fucking neighborhood.”

Gavin glanced around the room trying to get his bearings. He could still taste the bile, still hear the whispered words. Placing his head between his hands he groaned. “Oh God, Carl, he’s killed again.”

Finally managing to get his trembling fingers and the lighter together long enough to light the cigarette, Carl took a deep drag as he pondered what he’d just heard. He’d wondered about Gavin for a long time. A lot of things made sense now. The withdrawals. The long treks through the wilderness. Constant searching for something he couldn’t find. Jacody Ives made perfect sense now.

“How long you been having the dreams, son?”

Drawing a ragged breath, Gavin met Carl’s steady gaze. “All my life.”

Carl nodded. He’d suspected as much. Yep, made perfect sense now. “I’ll make the coffee, you get dressed. We got us some serious talking to do.”

#

Gavin focused his attention on the steaming mug of black coffee. The only sound in the room was the slight click of Carl’s lighter as he lit another cigarette.

“I’m waiting.”

“I don’t even know where to start, Carl.” Gavin looked up to meet the serious brown gaze. He’d never told anyone but the psychiatrist about the dreams.

Carl shrugged. “I’ll start for you then. Read every book you ever wrote. Always wondered about Jacody Ives. Good investigator, but he never let himself get involved with anyone, did he? Had those damn demons in his head all the time. Always afraid to let people get too close. Always running away to the next town, or disappearing into the wilderness for weeks. Boy seemed awful lonely to me.”

Gavin continued to focus on the coffee mug, as if somehow the black liquid held the answers to questions he’d always been afraid to ask.

Carl continued, “Then I read
Sacred Secrets
. That was your best work, son. Want to know why?”

Gavin raised his head, his eyes haunted.

“Because Jacody finally got a friend. I think the only friend he ever had was that dog.”

Gavin smiled wistfully remembering Mariah. She’d been his favorite character, and Carl was right, she’d been his only friend.

“That was right after you found out about Cory. You changed then. Maybe that was what you writers call your epiphany. Don’t know what it was, but you came back to us. Gavin came back, not Jacody Ives.”

“Penetralia of the soul,” Gavin whispered.

“Exactly.” Carl took another long drag on the cigarette before stubbing it out. “You ain’t alone, son. You ain’t never been alone.”

Gavin swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew where to start now. At the beginning.

“The first time I remember the dreams I was about five. I woke up screaming. Couldn’t explain to the Walkers what I’d seen, but I knew something bad had happened. The next day I heard them talking about how the old woman at the end of the street had been killed by a hit and run driver. It scared the hell out of me. I knew the dream and the death were connected, but I didn’t know how. I was afraid to sleep after that. Thought I had caused the death.”

Gavin stopped, lost in the guilt he’d felt as a child. The guilt he felt now. He could never stop the killings. He was always too late. And then there was the question he’d never been able to answer,
What was inside him? What part of him was so evil that it sought out the darkness while he slept?

Carl’s lighter clicked again, a signal for Gavin to continue.

“The Walkers were great people. They tried to understand. Took me to counselors, psychiatrists. Nothing helped. Then on my eighteenth birthday, I went camping with Rob and a bunch of the guys. That was the first time in my life I slept totally dreamless. Out there beneath the stars, away from the crowds, the towns, the people. I realized then that it was better for me, and better for everyone around me if I was alone. There had to be something inside of me that the darkness sought out. I’ve lived my entire life afraid the dark side would break loose, hurt the people I loved.

The psychiatrist agreed with me. Said it was my own dark nature manifesting itself in my dreams. Thought it was healthier for me to write out my feelings. So I went away, created Jacody Ives and put the demons inside his head. Five years ago they returned. Worse this time. He’s playing games with me. Laughing at me.” Gavin tightened his hold on the coffee mug, allowing himself to feel the rage and despair warring inside him.

The silence in the room built until it was almost unbearable.

“Of all the fucking horseshit I ever heard.” Carl threw his cup against the wall, shoved back his chair and paced the small room. “Goddamn, psycho-social babbling fools. Ain’t got nothing better to do than fuck up young kids.”

“Carl …” Gavin started to speak, but held his tongue, the brown eyes turning deep charcoal as they fixed on him.

“You forget that shit. You hear me?” The old man’s jaw bunched up in anger. “Ain’t nothing wrong with you that a little love and understanding wouldn’t a’cured. Fucking psychiatrists. Goddamn idiots, all of them. Anything they can’t explain with their fucking mental babble, they medicate.”

Gavin sat in shocked silence as Carl glared at him before slamming out the door. The ticking of the counter clock grated on his nerves, but he knew Carl would be back; he’d forgotten his cigarettes.

“And another thing,” Carl continued his tirade as he stormed in, picking up the forgotten cigarettes, “maybe it ain’t the killer you’re connecting with. Maybe it’s the victim. Just because you can’t stop the killing you see happening in your dream, don’t mean you can’t stop the killer. Maybe it’s the next victim you’re supposed to save. You ever think of that?”

Gavin sat dumbstruck. Was Carl right? It wasn’t the killer, but the victim reaching out to him? Gavin felt as if a weight had suddenly been lifted from his shoulders. The victims. That’s why Cory had been able to get through. That’s what she’d been trying to tell him.

“Well, what the hell are you waiting for?” Carl growled.

“I…”

“Gotta do everything for myself,” Carl muttered as he crossed to the coffee pot, poured another cup and disappeared into the guest bedroom. Gavin could hear the sound of drawers opening and closing, Carl muttering about stupid assholes. Shaking his head, Gavin followed.

“Want to share what you’re doing?” Gavin asked from the doorway.

“I’m packing your things. You gotta get back to Glade Springs. Protect that little girl. Ain’t that what this was all about? You ain’t gonna be late this time, Gavin.” Carl stopped shoving clothes into the overnight bag and sat down on the bed. Maybe he could save Gavin. Rob was already dead. The bottle had killed him; he just didn’t know it yet.

Gavin joined him on the bed, afraid to break the silence as rings of cigarette smoke drifted between them.

“I listened to you talk about that little girl and her mother, Gavin. Something happened out there in Glade Springs. Something good. Don’t you let it mean nothing. Don’t you lose her the way Rob lost Cory. Get the dog if you want it, but you got a chance, son, for more than that. A whole lot more.”

Gavin placed his arm around Carl. He was right. Something had happened to him the minute Nikki had placed her small hand in his. Something strange and wonderful. Gavin had never prayed in his life, but he prayed now. “God, please don’t let me be too late this time.”

#

“Fire’s out, Sheriff. We opened the windows, but the smell is still pretty bad.”

Sarah nodded, her eyes misting. “Thanks, Billy.” Swallowing hard, she tried to stop the gagging reflex that hit her the second she entered The Lodge. There was nothing in the world worse than the smell of burned flesh. Tommy and three of the volunteer fire fighters were still outside vomiting, and Joshua looked slightly green, although he was holding up better than most. Dammit! They weren’t prepared for this. She wasn’t prepared for this.