Masters 02 Master of the Abyss (23 page)

The guilt he’d felt had been the sticker.

Had been
. He frowned. Past tense. The blackness was still there, true, but subdued. Manageable. The pain would never leave him completely, he knew, for somehow, someway, he’d missed seeing Mimi’s intentions. He’d have tried to stop her if he’d known. But he hadn’t.

He was human. He’d screwed up. He undoubtedly would again.

A small flame of anger flared inside him. Couldn’t Mimi have given him a chance to make things right for her? She shouldn’t have just…quit, no matter how much she had hurt.

Could you even know—trust—another person to stay alive, to weather life’s difficulties? He considered his brother, Becca. Kallie. No, they wouldn’t take the easy way out. Fighters, all of them.

Pussy
. He hadn’t thought of himself as being gutless, yet a person could find more than one way to step back from life. Refusing to live it—to participate, to love—was as craven as taking it. Why hadn’t he seen that he’d been a coward?

He looked up toward the wide bowl of sky where heaven was located; his great-grandmother had told him that, and she was never wrong. “Okay, Mimi,” he murmured, his gaze going past the few clouds and on farther, to the unknowable. “You’ve gone on ahead. I can’t fix what happened, and it’s time for me to go back to living.” His throat tightened. “We weren’t meant to be, but I did love you, sweetheart, and I hope you’ll give me your blessing from wherever you are now.”

His eyes burned, and he swallowed painfully. Okay. That was done.

He took a deep breath and another. On the far bank, a deer and her spotted fawn ventured down to the water, and he remembered how he’d always thought of Mimi as a young deer. He watched as they drank, ears swiveling to catch any sound, then bounded back into the forest.

Jake shifted his weight and frowned. He had a notoriously bad-tempered sprite to confront. What would he tell her?

As the river flowed past him, heading inexorably toward the sea, he pondered. He wanted her. In his bed. In his life? No.
You being a pussy again, Hunt
? Face it, he cared for her. Cared too much—for a cowardly pussy—but facts were facts. The thought of losing her had driven him to take a long look at his actions.

Pussy
. He snorted a laugh.

And now he’d have to go back, manage to keep her from belting him, and talk about their relationship—and they damn well
did
have a relationship. He rubbed his chin. Charging into battle might be less dangerous than facing Kallie in a rage. But somehow he’d simply get her to stand still long enough for him to explain.

Dream on, Hunt.

* * *

If the Lowery family noticed Kallie talked less today, they didn’t say anything. She had tried to keep them too busy to talk: a mountain lake, a ridge overlooking the basin, a talus slope filled with whistling marmots. That afternoon, she returned them to Serenity Lodge, where they’d stay for another night.

After unpacking their personal gear from Coco, she helped carry it into the lodge. As she set down the packs, she noticed a man talking to someone in the kitchen. Tall, broad-shouldered, dark brown hair. Kallie’s heart lifted far enough to clog her throat and started to pound.

“Jake!” Tamara tore across the room. “Why did you leave so early? I wanted to—” The man turned, and the little girl skidded to a halt on the wood floor.

Logan, not Jake. He smiled down at the child. “Sorry, kitten, Jake is out of town for a while.”

“Oh.” Tamara backed up. Logan lacked Jake’s easy manner, his sheer enjoyment of people, and the girl undoubtedly sensed that. Pouting, she trudged back to Kallie.

Yeah, that’s how I feel too
. Kallie gave the munchkin a hug and then looked up. Arms across his chest, Logan leaned against the door frame, studying them—studying her. She turned her back on him. Casually.
Nothing to see here, dude.

She exchanged good-byes and hugs with the Lowerys. When Ryan started to awkwardly shake her hand, she pulled him in for a hug. “I had fun cooking with you,” she whispered. “Coco is going to miss you.”

His grin eased her heart. For a minute, at least.

She escaped outside before she tried to kick something. Jake had gone out of town, huh? He didn’t think it was adequate to dump her, but he had to flee the territory too, like she’d turn into some deranged stalker. Like she couldn’t take a hint—well, hardly a hint, more like,
Get lost, Kallie
. After untying Coco, she led him over to the horse trailer in the bush-concealed parking area and worked on unpacking the rest of the gear.

The chestnut turned to inspect her work, then lowered his head to crop a long tuft of grass.

“Yeah, at least one of us is having a good day, buddy.” She patted his neck and picked up the leftover food supplies. The crunch of gravel drew her attention.

Logan had followed her out of the lodge.
Oh wonderful, just shoot me now.

“The Lowerys were very pleased with your expertise.” His voice—so familiar—made her heart pick up, and turned her mouth down. Jake’s sounded a little smoother, a little deeper, but otherwise…

“Thanks. Good to know.” She tossed the supplies into her Jeep and went back for more.

Not taking the hint, he walked over to Coco to rub the horse’s forehead. “Jake was in a bad mood this morning.”

Kallie stiffened. “Well, that’s not my problem, is it?”

“Just surprising. He’d been damned gung ho to join you on the mountain yesterday.”

And gung ho to run back down. Her ribs compressed her lungs painfully. She started unfastening straps. Damn Logan for making everything worse. Her first few choices of response, like
fuck off
, seemed too rude to use on a so-called business associate. “Butt out, Hunt.”

She kept working on the straps. No noise of him leaving. God, she wanted to cry. She wouldn’t—it never did any good—but why didn’t he leave? When she ran out of buckles, she turned.

His blue eyes, grayer than Jake’s but just as intent, examined her face. And then he sighed and shook his head. “You drive carefully, sugar,” he said gently. He squeezed her shoulder as he walked past her to the lodge.

“I will,” she muttered to his back. After she unclenched her hands and pulled her composure into place, she scowled at the tall figure climbing the steps. Did he think she’d drive off the road because she’d lost a…a bed partner? Not hardly. Maybe nobody ever stayed with her, but she wasn’t the type to jump off some mountain like that girlfriend who’d screwed him all up.

She coaxed Coco into the trailer and headed home, driving carefully just to prove Logan’s worries were wrong.

To top off a lousy day, Virgil’s police car sat by the house. She scowled. Talking to another overprotective male was more than she could handle right now. The gravel she kicked at his car made a satisfying
plink
as the stones hit the hubcap. Probably a criminal offense, attacking a cop car.

She brushed Coco down and put him into the pasture. She put the gear away. She cleaned the messy shelves, fixing everything to her satisfaction as if straightening up would put the rest of her life under control.

It didn’t work, but at least the tack room looked pretty. She glanced at the house, craving one of the soft drinks in the refrigerator. Maybe Virgil would be in his room.

God hates me today
. Her cousin sat at the kitchen table, eating supper. He’d stacked several burgers left over from the Fourth into a massive sandwich.

She nodded at him and grabbed a diet soda.

“Hey, little bit, how was your hike?”

“Okay. Cute kids.” She popped the top and drank, the bubbles scouring the trail dust from her throat. “I’m going to shower.”

His hazel eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?”

Did she have a sign on her forehead that read: KALLIE GOT DUMPED? “Nothing.”

“Uh-huh. You seen Jake recently?”

“None of your damned business,” she snapped.

His face set into stone, and his eyes turned glacier cold. She tried not to flinch. Last time she’d seen that expression, he’d punched an abusive husband so hard the guy probably still sucked his food through a straw.

But his anger wasn’t directed at her. She sidled toward the door.

“Hold up. I need to talk to you.” His brows drew together into his worrywart expression, the one he got whenever she did something he considered unsafe: dating, drinking, working in Alaska, mountain climbing, drinking, dating…

Waiting for the lecture, she rubbed her shoulder on the door frame and then frowned. With dark circles under his eyes and deep lines around his mouth, he looked like roadkill. “Are you okay?”

“Just tired. SAR found a hiker’s body two days ago. A woman.”

“I heard.” Poor Jake. She could hate him and still feel sorry for him. “Fell from the trail.”

“No, honey, that’s the problem—she didn’t fall. Someone murdered her. And others over the last couple of years.” He rubbed his eyes as if it helped the lack of sleep. “We’ve got a serial killer in the area, and it looks like he targets short, dark-haired women.”

Kallie blinked. “Others? Nobody happened to notice there were little dead brunettes lying around?”

“Nobody put it together—thanks to a coroner who can’t tell which side of the scalpel to cut with.” He muttered under his breath, “Fucking incompetent bastard.”

“But he finally figured it out?”

“No. The hotshot new coroner who replaced him did when she autopsied the last hiker.” Virgil’s mouth tightened. “Too many of the contusions were the same size and—wrong somehow for a fall. Someone beat that woman to death with a heavy branch.”

“Oh God.”

“Yeah. The coroner started checking older records. And then she called the sheriff’s department. And they alerted all the police departments in the area.” He moved his shoulders as if to get the knots out. “I doubt anyone got any sleep last night.”

“Surely even an incompetent coroner would have realized—”

“The murderer tosses the bodies off steep trails so it appears as if they fell.”

“That’s…ugly.” A creepy feeling started in her spine and worked upward.
I’m short and dark-haired.

“Yes.” Virgil’s gaze rested on her black hair, and he gave her a hard stare. “Until he’s caught, you don’t go anyplace in the forest alone.”

She opened her mouth to protest, caught the determination in his gaze, and rethought.
Don’t be stupid
. “Fine. Nothing’s booked for me until next week anyway. Catch the bastard quick, okay?”

“We’re trying, little bit. We’re trying.”

* * *

That evening, Jake drove his truck slowly into Bear Flat, trying to decide whether a bribe of chocolate would help sweeten Kallie’s temper. Flowers wouldn’t get him far with his macho sprite, but she’d had chocolate ice cream in her grocery basket a couple of weeks ago. He glanced at the dashboard clock. The grocery store kept tourist-season hours and would remain open for another hour or so. He turned toward downtown.

Whipple and the delivery guy stood talking on the boardwalk. The soda truck blocked the spot in front of the store. Jake U-turned, parked across the street in front of the police station, and stepped out of his pickup. Whipple did a double take and scowled. Jake snorted. If the grocer’s glare were an M16, Jake’s body would be spattered all over the concrete.

As he started across the street, he heard, “Hunt, hold up a minute.” Masterson stood in the doorway of the station. “I need to talk with you.”

The guy looked like he’d aged a decade in two days. I need to talk to your cousin, not you, Jake thought, but he didn’t want to piss off Kallie’s relatives more than they already were. “There a problem?”

“In a way. Let’s walk.” The cop wasn’t in uniform, and as he started off down the boardwalk, he stuck his hands in his pockets.

“Spit it out, Masterson. I have things to do.” Like getting some food to go with the ice cream. Having a picnic with Kallie. He hadn’t eaten all day; had his sprite?

“Then listen up.” Masterson started talking, and within five minutes, Jake’s appetite disappeared completely. Their boots thudded on the wooden planks of the boardwalk as he tried to take it in.
A serial killer
? Around here? “He’s been killing women—brunettes—for over two years?”

“Yeah. I warned Kallie to stay close to home.”

At the thought of Kallie in danger, Jake froze in place. But she’d take precautions. Wouldn’t she? He’d damn well ensure she did.

“If she—” He realized Masterson’s eyes had filled with pity.
Pity
? “Spit it out, Masterson.”

“We think your…friend…Mimi Cavanaugh, might have been one of the first.”

The words floated past him and then rebounded, hitting him right in the gut. “Mimi.” His voice went hoarse. “Murdered? She didn’t kill herself?”

Virgil’s attention turned to the street as they crossed to the other side. His jaw tensed for a moment. “Her death fits the pattern. I’m sorry, Jake.”

Mimi. Soft brown eyes, high, light voice, so very sweet. Some bastard had hurt her? Rage welled up inside like a forest fire, and Jake fought it back. The sun burned his shoulders, but the sweat trickling down his back felt cold. “You got any suspects or leads or whatever?”
Someone to kill?

“The sheriff’s office is working the information and narrowing the list. It’s pretty much a given that he’ll be a single, white male who lives in the area. Since serial killers often begin with friends or family before escalating, they’re looking at the earliest victims and their relationships.”

Relationships. “You telling me that I’m a suspect?” No real surprise; cops didn’t like the notion of BDSM. He stepped up onto the boardwalk on the other side of the street.

“How’s it hanging, Hunt?” The old geezer who warmed the bench by the feed store gave a token salute.

“Good enough,” Jake answered.

Masterson nodded at the old man as they walked past, and continued, “No, you’re off the suspect list. Last year there was a murder in early spring; you and Logan weren’t even in the country. In fact, that one eliminated most of the seasonal workers.”