Fear Familiar Bundle (59 page)

The pungent odor was a sharp pain in Adam's head.

"Take it easy, there," a voice ordered Adam. There was another whiff of acrid pain. Adam struggled to sit up.

"There you go," the voice said again.

Adam opened his eyes to see Sheriff Harvey Beaker peering down at him, a worried expression knitting his bushy eyebrows together. He held a broken capsule of ammonia.

"Can you stand?" Beaker asked.

Adam wasn't sure. He looked behind the sheriff's shoulder and saw the rope that disappeared up the steep side of the mountain. The sheriff had obviously gone to some trouble to get to him.

"What…" Adam didn't finish.

"Ken Simpson tried to kill you. I was tailing him, have been for several days, and when I saw you jump over the cliff, I waited until he went on, then I came down here to see what was left of you. More than I pictured, I'd say."

"Thanks." Adam slid into a sitting position. He took an inventory of his body and found not too much permanent damage had been done. By all rights, he should have been dead.

"I wouldn't be shifting around too much," Beaker said casually, then pointed his flashlight a foot behind him. The ground disappeared. "This ledge caught you. You're a lucky man."

The full realization of what had almost happened made Adam's body tighten. "I am indeed."

"Let's get back up this hill," Beaker said. "Simpson left you for dead, but he might come back. We'd both be sitting ducks."

"Why?"

"Why was I following Simpson, or why did he try to kill you?"

"Both," Adam said as he tested the rope with his weight. It was going to be a long, hard climb, but if he wanted to get back to the road— and Cassandra— he had to do it. The idea that he'd left her alone, unprotected, gave him the strength. The call from "JoAnn" had obviously been a setup. Just a bit more surprising than Sheriff Beaker's sudden rescue.

"I was following Ken when I noticed he was acting funnier than usual. He had a real burn for Ms. McBeth. Hated her. Ken's always been a rational man. It made me wonder, and when I gave up on you as the chief suspect, I had to have someone. Besides, he poked around my office and found out some details. Later I heard those details on that television show."

"You didn't tell Martin West?" Adam gripped the rope and started the climb. It was only about fifty feet, but it was going to be a test of his will.

"No lawman gives out things he's heard in confidence. Betty, that's the dispatcher, finally admitted that she let Ken in my private office on several occasions. He musta read my notes."

"Great," Adam grunted as he slowly went up, hand over hand. He kept Cassandra's face in his mind as he struggled. He had to get to her. Before Ken Simpson did.

"What do you know about Ray Elsworth?"

Beaker's unexpected question made Adam's hand slip on the rope. He caught himself with a curse, his bruised body complaining angrily. "I thought he might be involved in the murders."

"And?" Beaker prompted.

"I'm not so sure, now."

"I saw you and Cassandra with him at the fair. I also saw him in Sarah Welford's house, along with Ms. McBeth. We'd had the place staked out for several days. What was Ms. McBeth looking for?"

"JoAnn Reed's whereabouts." Adam concentrated on the conversation. His ribs were screaming. He didn't believe they were broken, but they were badly bruised. The top of the cliff was only five yards away.

"I picked Ray up. He denies any connection with the murders. He did own up to some dealings with Simpson, though. It seems he left some papers in Sarah Welford's house. When he went to get them, they were gone."

"What kind of deals?" Adam could almost reach the top.

"Bids, contracts, city business. It would seem Simpson has been using his office for personal gain for quite some time. My best guess is that he's somehow been led to believe that Cassandra knows about his illegal activities. That's why he's after her."

Adam crawled over the stone wall and dropped, panting, into the dirt. In a moment he reached down to give Beaker a hand over the wall, but the lawman was managing on his own.

"Anyway, Ray's in custody." Beaker gave Adam a long, hard look. "Simpson's got to be stopped. My guess is that he's headed home to plan an attack on Ms. McBeth."

"Cassandra is all alone." Adam realized he'd even taken her car keys. "I have to get back to her."

"Go on," Beaker said. "I'll check at Simpson's house and hope to catch him there. In the meantime, I'll radio for some deputies. Unless you call the dispatcher with a change in plans, I'll meet you at Ms. McBeth's. We might have time to set a trap."

Adam didn't wait for further confirmation. Cassandra was asleep, alone. He had to get back to her.

"C
HAMPAGNE
?" Martin West asked. He held two glasses. "You deserve the best, Cassandra."

"Champagne would be lovely," Cassandra answered. She nudged JoAnn to take the second glass, but her hands were still tied. "JoAnn wants some, too."

"Such a pity," Martin said. He flicked a pocketknife open with a practiced gesture. Feinting and thrusting, he moved around them. "I always wanted to be tough, but I was afraid my face would get cut." In one quick flash of the blade, JoAnn's hands were free. She quickly removed the gag. At Cassandra's nudge, she took the champagne glass from Martin.

"So sorry, JoAnn. I should have disposed of you sooner and saved you all of this…inconvenience. You are a bit of a mess. That lovely hair is all matted."

"You bas…"

"You're taking a foolish risk." Cassandra put a restraining hand on JoAnn's arm as she spoke calmly to Martin. "There are two of us. We could take you on."

"Two women?" Martin laughed. "Hardly a risk, unless you have supernatural strength along with your psychic abilities." He laughed harder. "I thought you knew who the killer was," he taunted.

"I could see the victims, not the killer," Cassandra admitted. She watched his face in the moonlight as he sipped the champagne. "That was my advantage. I was in your mind. I could sense the turmoil and the insecurities. That was the reason I couldn't identify you. See, I thought you were a real man— confident and assured. You're so afraid, Martin. You're terrified of women. Why?"

"You shut up," Martin answered. He put his glass down on part of the rock formation where Cassandra had found the hair.

"You're taking the hair from women for some kind of silly power, aren't you?" Cassandra was guessing, but she had to keep him talking. Once he decided to kill them, he might get lucky and get at least one of them.

"I told you to shut up," he said.

She picked up her own hair and held a thick strand of it out to him. "Take it. Once you cut it from my head, it's nothing more than dead hair. It won't give you any kind of magic."

Martin took a short step toward her. "I told you to shut up." He darted to the side and grabbed JoAnn. "Or she's going to die."

"Please, don't let him hurt me," JoAnn said through her tears. "He's already done enough. He told me about the others. While I was lying on the floor of that cave, he told me how he did it to the others."

"I dreamed this night," Cassandra said softly. "Except it's different. It isn't happening the way I dreamed it at all." She looked at Martin. "We were alone in my dream. Just the two of us. We were drinking champagne, and you told me how you'd been watching me."

Martin's grip on JoAnn loosened, and she twisted away. He didn't bother to go after her.

"That's the way it should be," he agreed. "See, I knew who you were long before this. I'd heard stories about you and your abilities. After you went to Beaker and said you could identify the killer, Ken Simpson told me your name. He said you lived up here alone. I was going to pay you a little visit the day I cut your phone lines, but Adam Raleigh showed up."

"It's been you, all along. The earrings dropped in the yard, the scarecrow at Adam's car, the barricade. Why?"

"It dawned on me— I could get the networks interested in me again with the right show. A serial killer on the loose. A psychic who claims she can identify the killer. She appears on television. Everyone knows she's after the killer, then she dies, just like the others. It's perfect."

Cassandra felt the fear rise up in a huge wave, and she held firm against it. Now wasn't the time to lose her grip. So far, she'd managed to distract and confuse him. JoAnn was edging away. If there was a chance, she might be able to make a break for it.

As if he read her mind, Martin lunged to the right, grabbed JoAnn and slammed her into the huge rock. She went down in a heap. "She was going to escape," he said. He turned to Cassandra. "Now it's like it should be. Just me and you."

Cassandra took a step backward. She was near the edge of the cliff, the same place where her father had fallen to his death. Her left foot felt solid ground behind her as she took another tentative step away from the advancing Martin. Even in the moonlight she could see the insanity in his eyes. He was loving every minute. He drew power from her fear, and she had to stop it.

A movement on the top of the rocks caught her eye. It was a small shadow moving toward her. Black on black shadow. Familiar! She'd never been so glad to see anyone in her entire life. And the cat was hunkered down as if he were stalking Martin.

"You'd better kill me if you're going to," Cassandra dared him. "Adam will be here— "

"I told you he's dead!" Martin gritted through his teeth. He took a lunge forward and grabbed Cassandra by the shoulders. His hands slid up her throat, and with a rough strength, he pushed her around so that she faced the night sky.

"Isn't it beautiful!" he insisted.

Cassandra resisted the urge to struggle. He was six times stronger than she was. If she fought him, he'd kill her instantly. She had to bide her time. Would Familiar actually attack him? She could only pray the cat had really been watching Lassie on television.

"You're supposed to tell me how beautiful my skin and hair are," Cassandra prompted him. "And don't forget to cut a snip for a souvenir."

His hands tightened on her throat. "You're always making fun of me. But not much longer, Ms. McBeth. You are lovely. Such beautiful skin. Such gorgeous hair." He fingered a curl. "The finest of all my collection."

Cassandra felt the cold dread that she'd held at bay sink into her heart. She'd believed someone would come. Adam. Running Stream. Someone. She'd believed she would be able to outsmart Martin. But time was running out for her. His fingers tightened convulsively on her throat and she felt her own pulse beat hard and strong. An image of Adam came to her, standing bare-chested on her porch. A wave of tears threatened, and she fought them back.

"Adam…"

"He's dead!" Martin screamed, and his fingers dug into her throat.

"No, I'm not dead."

The voice came from the darkness above Martin. At the same time, a small black shape hurled itself through the air and landed on Martin West's head. Dangerous claws dug into the man face and eyes.

With a cry of anguish, West released Cassandra and tried to beat the black cat from his head. Familiar dug in with all four paws, riding Martin West like a rodeo rider on a bronc.

Out of the darkness, a larger shape rushed in. With the impact of a linebacker, Adam struck West in the midriff, pushing him back against the outcropping of rock.

Familiar flung himself clear as West's head flew back and connected with the rock. There was the sound of skull striking rock, and Martin slid bonelessly to the ground.

"Cassandra!" Adam's strong arms caught her as her legs started to give. She tottered on the edge of the mountain until he drew her back to safety.

"I was about to give up on you," she said, her heart pounding.

"You were never in any real danger, not with Familiar out here protecting you," he answered. Then he crushed her to him with enough strength to fuse them together. The emotions he felt were too intense for mere words.

"Meow," Familiar demanded.

With a cry, Cassandra gathered him in her arms as Adam held her. "Don't ever let us go," Cassandra whispered. "Promise me! You won't ever let us go."

"I promise, with all of my heart," Adam answered, kissing her forehead and her hair and her cheek. "Not in this lifetime."

Far in the distance, there was the sound of a siren. "They'll never get up here," Cassandra said. She felt as if she were floating. Adam's arms were the only thing that kept her from ascending far above the orchard and the tragedy of Martin West.

"Running Stream will show them the way," Adam reassured her. "But let's leave things nice and neat." He took the coil of rope from around his chest and began the work of tying Martin up. Cassandra knelt down beside JoAnn. The woman was unconscious, but she'd soon be waking up. There was a large goose egg on the back of her head, but she was very much alive.

"S
O
,
WHAT'S
all the whispering about? Every time I come in a room, the talking stops. Even Bounder is whispering, and he knows better. Maybe I have something terminal and no one wants to tell me. That's humans for you. I save their butts and now they whisper behind my back. And lately, the food has been less than satisfactory. Ever since Martin West has been rounded up, Miss Locks and Lancelot have been so busy petting each other's wounds, I've been neglected. Except my feline instincts tell me that it's more than simple neglect.

Maybe I'm just too sensitive a guy. I mean, Adam has Cassandra. And she has him. Running Stream got Bounder. JoAnn got back with her family. Ray got a chance to turn state's evidence. Ken Simpson got a new black and white jail suit, and even Martin West got a date with a hanging judge and jury. What have I got? Only the memory of one sassy little Clotilde.

Uh-oh, they're calling my name. And there's this odd sound to Miss Lock's voice. I mean, she sounds happy, but it also sounds as if she's about to cry. Yep, she's one phenomenal creature all right. I heard Adam say just an hour ago that he could run his business from the top of this mountain. He said something about how Running Stream taught him what it meant to really be strong.