Silver Falls (15 page)

“Just a touch of the stomach flu,” she said, forcing her voice to sound stronger.

“Yeah, that's been going around,” Maggie said, covering for her. “Caleb's taking Stephen Henry
home and then coming down to the station. I'm finished with David. He's been real helpful.”

She couldn't look at him. Not without thinking about it, not without having to turn around and head straight back into the bathroom. No wonder David had been so adamant about not having animals. She didn't even want to think what he went through as a child, having a sociopath for a brother.

She'd spent far too much time reading about serial killers—before Tessa was murdered. Once that happened, she'd found the very thought of it so revolting that she'd had to avoid certain sections of the bookstore. Some of the other parents had wanted to read everything they could, trying to understand the how and the why of Tessa's death. Rachel didn't want to understand anything. She'd simply wanted to take her daughter and run to a safe place as fast as she could and David had appeared, deus ex machina, to protect her, when she'd never thought she'd needed protection before. And now here they were, in a place that was anything but safe.

She wouldn't, couldn't look at Caleb. He'd told her to leave town, and she should have gone at the first warning. She should have listened. If Maggie was right, and you didn't outgrow torturing helpless creatures, then chances were he'd moved on to bigger and better victims. And sending her out of town would have been the perfect setup. David
would insist on coming with her and there would have been no one left to stop him.

Or maybe Caleb had some sick, strange compulsion and he was trying to stop himself. Maybe that was why he wanted to send her away, to somehow keep her safe from his own monstrous hands.

“Give an old man a kiss, Rachel,” Stephen Henry said, still with that annoying tone that had become part of his everyday speech.

She leaned down dutifully, trying not to look at the man standing behind his chair, the hand that rested on the handles, strong and long-fingered and tanned by the sun. Hands that had done things too horrific to even think of. Even if he'd been a perfect Boy Scout from there on out, there was a darkness of the soul that would never leave you.

She brushed Stephen Henry's cheek with hers, but before she realized it, Caleb had caught her chin in his hand, tilting her face up to his, forcing her to look into his dark, endless eyes for a long, silent moment.

He had to see the disgust and condemnation there, even while she tried to hide it, and then she pulled herself away, stepping back. “Good night, Rachel. If Maggie hauls me off to prison without giving me a chance to see you again I hope you'll be very happy with my brother.” There was that malice again, hidden beneath the polite words, malice that only Rachel seemed to hear.

“That's not going to happen, Caleb,” Stephen Henry said. “As soon as I get home I'll call our lawyer.”

“Not necessary, Father. I'm sure Sheriff Bannister and I can come to some kind of understanding. If not, I think I can manage to escape before she calls out the bloodhounds.”

Maggie didn't blink, didn't respond. “You take care of yourself, Rachel,” she said, turning her back on the men. “You and Sophie mean a lot to us Bannisters, and I need to make sure you two are safe. Nothing's going to happen to either of you, not on my watch. But it doesn't hurt to pay attention.”

Attention to what? Rachel wanted to ask. But they were already heading out the door, leaving her behind.

At the last minute Caleb turned back to look at them, an unreadable expression in his eyes. David put an arm around her. For some strange reason she wanted to throw it off, but she remained still, motionless, the perfect image of a devoted couple.

And then they were gone, the door closing behind them. David took a step away from her, almost as if she were an infection. “I'm going in my study for a while, dear,” he said smoothly. “I'll see you in the morning.”

At least his earlier amatory mood had vanished.
The thought of fending off one of David's rare romantic moves was enough to make her want to head for the powder room again.

But she composed her face in a Madonna-like smile, and kissed the air beside his cheek. “Sleep well, then.”

His smile was benevolent. “I will, my love. I will.”

I
t was a good thing he didn't have to make conversation with Stephen Henry in the car. His adopted father kept up a monologue that wouldn't have allowed the most determined chatterbox get a word in. Because if he had, Caleb would have probably slammed him up against the side of the car, shook him till his teeth rattled, and demanded to know what the fuck he thought he was doing.

Since Stephen Henry wouldn't have told him, and since putting hands on the old man was probably not a good idea, it suited him just fine to chauffeur the old bastard back to his pilfered house and his highly paid houseboy.

It wasn't until Dylan, a graduate student with the patience of a saint, was extricating Stephen Henry from the car that his father finally decided to address him directly, smugly assured that Caleb wouldn't say anything in front of the help.

“You've been very quiet, my boy,” he said as
Dylan settled him back into the chair. The old man was heavier than he looked. “Are you troubled about something?”

Caleb looked down at him. “I was just wondering about something. When you told Maggie Bannister that lie about David being over here, was it to give
him
an alibi or
you?
”

For once he'd managed to shock the old man into silence. “When you figure out what your answer is you can let me know,” he added, climbing back into the car and pulling out into the road without looking. Good thing no one was driving by to smash into, ruining his melodramatic exit, he thought sourly as he drove down the road. Though maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all. He had no particular death wish, but things had just gotten a hell of a lot more complicated.

She must be pregnant. He'd been a fool not to realize what was going on, but the thought of his brother actually breeding had been too far-fetched to even consider in his darkest nightmares. No wonder she refused to listen to him and take her daughter the hell away from there. If she was carrying David's child she wouldn't very well bail on him, any more than she would harbor any unacceptable suspicions.

Of course, suspecting the black-sheep brother was just fine. She'd looked at him like he was
Jeffrey Dahmer after Maggie dropped that bomb about animal torture. He'd have to thank the sheriff for that little extra. As if things weren't complicated enough, now his sister-in-law was going to consider him the man most likely to become a serial killer.

Shit. He didn't mind that part as much as he minded the fact that she was pregnant. It explained a lot about her. The gorgeous, female curves of her body, her pale, almost luminous skin. The fact that she was both attracted to and repelled by him. Hormones run amuck. He couldn't thank his own reliable magnetism. She was simply knocked up.

Which made everything a lot more difficult. Maggie didn't believe the serial killer had moved on, and neither did he. He'd love it if he was wrong, if life was just a series of ugly coincidences, if he could just head back to Africa or wherever the bureau decided to send him next and not have to think about what was happening in Silver Falls. Maybe he'd been wrong all this time.

Yeah, and maybe pigs could fly. Maggie might be right, and there'd be no more murders in Silver Falls, at least not for a good long time, long enough for people to forget.

But there had always been long waits in between victims, a studied methodology designed to outwit even the most trained of criminologists.
And now there'd been at least three in the last few months. Maybe more.

Maybe David could bring it back under control, maybe he couldn't. And maybe Caleb should just tell Maggie Bannister what was going on. The trouble was, he didn't have an ounce of proof. Everything was pointing to him just as easily as it pointed to David, and he had to start thinking there was a reason for it. The crimes that were turning up, the murders around the world. He was willing to bet his life that they happened during David's infrequent visits to his older brother.

That could point to him just as much as it could point to David. And if Maggie decided not to believe him, which was more than likely given his experience in this rotten little town that had always been ready to accept that the adopted kid was the monster, then he'd be locked up and there'd be no one to stop David.

He couldn't let that happen. He could stonewall Maggie. She'd believe what she'd want to believe, but she wouldn't come up with any evidence unless his helpful father decided to go one step further in protecting David. It was the way it had always been, with even their mother keeping a close eye on her damaged birth son. In the end it had killed her, and if he'd had any proof at the time he would have killed David himself.

But he hadn't, everything had pointed to him, once again, and he'd gotten the hell out of there. He'd gotten out and kept on going, running until he could run no more. Until he'd heard his twisted baby brother had married.

One mistake he'd made was to be too careful. David wasn't going to screw up without more help—he was cunning, deliberate, totally in control. He had no emotions, no weaknesses as far as Caleb could see. If he was waiting for David to screw up he was going to be stuck in this hellhole for a long time.

In the meantime he had to get Rachel and her daughter out of town. She wouldn't listen to his warnings, she wouldn't listen to her own instincts. So he had no choice but to take it one step further.

Maggie Bannister was waiting for him, and he'd have to undergo what he'd been through so many times in his life. Denying his guilt without implicating David, at least overtly. He'd been doing it since David was ten and Stephen Henry had beaten him for supposedly lying about his brother, though he suspected the old man had known perfectly well who the guilty culprit really was. Not that Maggie could believe him if he tried.

If he was going to stop David he'd have to do it on his own—there'd be no help from their father. Sooner or later David's little tricks could come
back to bite him in the butt, and he could let go of the guilt.

Once that happened he'd be long gone, continents away, and he wouldn't even need to think about it. Think about his niece or nephew growing up with a monster for a father. Soon enough it would all be over.

But first he had to get rid of Rachel.

 

Sophie woke up early, just after dawn. She took a quick shower and threw on the school uniform that she hated, the dull greens and grays of the ordinariness that her mother had only recently seemed to prize. She grabbed a soda from her fridge, a Butterfingers from her stash, well out of Rachel's sight or they'd be long gone. She brushed her hair, working her fingers through the snarls, and reached for her barrettes.

Her fingers skimmed the intricately chased silver ones David had given her. He always asked her why she didn't wear them, and she always told him she was saving them for something special.

Like when her mother came to her senses and left the creep.

That wasn't going to happen anytime soon. The murders had just brought back all the fear and horror of Tessa's death, and if Sophie knew her mother, and she did, she'd dig in even harder.

Maybe she wasn't madly in love with David after all. There was no missing the tension that was simmering beneath the surface. So far Sophie had tolerated him for Rachel's sake, but if her mother wasn't as blinded as she had been in the beginning then maybe there was a chance for them to get out of there.

She'd certainly picked the wrong brother. Caleb was everything David wasn't—funny, relaxed, treated her like an adult instead of some creepy, precious doll. Her mother had always had excellent taste in friends and the occasional boyfriend. It was only with David that her instincts had gone haywire.

Sophie crept silently to the door, her Asics in her hand, moving the chair out of the way and unlocking it without making a sound. Her mother had no idea she locked her door, had locked it within a week of getting there. She herself didn't quite know why—it just made her feel safer. Which was kind of weird, because she left her windows open on the warmer nights. Whatever threatened her was inside the house, not out.

But she wasn't going to think about that. The house was still and silent—David and Rachel were asleep, and she hoped to God they weren't asleep together. That was just too weird and gross to consider. She scribbled a note, put her shoes on and
walked all over David's spotless floor, and a moment later slipped out into the cool Northwest morning.

For the first time in weeks it wasn't raining, though the clouds threatened. She pulled up her hoodie anyway and started walking, past the bungalows and Victorians, toward the center of town. By the time she got to Ray and Lucy's Diner the fitful light of day was at its strongest, and she went inside, hopeful.

Caleb was sitting at a booth, nursing a cup of coffee, and he gave her a brief smile when she slipped in across from him. “I thought you might be in jail,” she said.

“I think Maggie was doing that more for show.” He rubbed a hand across his brow. “She's too smart to spend her time chasing ghosts.”

“Is the Northwest Strangler a ghost?”

“I hope so,” he said, but he didn't sound optimistic. “Why don't you and your mother get out of town?”

“We have to wait until David can get some time off.”

“Go without him.”

“Easier said than done,” Sophie muttered. “I don't think she'd go if he couldn't. She's madly in love with him.”

“You sure about that? I haven't seen any signs of it.”

“Why else would she marry him and drag me up here, when we could be somewhere, anywhere? We were doing just fine before she met David. She could make enough money for us to live well enough, especially overseas, as long as we weren't too fussy, and we both liked living with the locals. But suddenly she just threw everything away, our plans to go to New Zealand, and married David. What other reason could there be besides true love?” She sounded disgruntled and jealous and she knew it, but she couldn't help it.

“You'd be surprised, kid,” he said. “I talked with Maggie. She wants you to stay with her family for the next week or so. I think that's probably a pretty good idea.”

“Why?”

Caleb would have been pretty cute if he weren't so old. If her mother had any sense she would have seen it herself—he made his younger brother seem about as interesting as oatmeal. “Just trust me on this.”

“I need to look after my mother. She tends to jump into things without thinking them through.”

“Leave your mother to me. I promise you I'll make sure no one hurts her. Can you trust me on this?”

She considered it for a moment. In her life she'd
been used to trusting her mother first, and then the people her mother trusted.

But her mother trusted David, which was a big mistake in judgment as far as Sophie was concerned. And Rachel didn't trust Caleb, who was the only adult around who was honest with her. Not even Kristen's mom told her the truth.

She nodded. “I can trust you. What am I going to tell my mother?”

“I told you. Leave your mother to me.”

Sophie repressed a romantic sigh. If only her mother had better taste, she could do just that.

As it was, her mother had taught her early on that you played with the cards you were dealt, and life had dealt them David. At least for the time being.

“I'll give you a ride to school,” he said, tossing some money down on the table.

“I can walk.”

“I'm giving you a ride. And from now on you only ride with the sheriff, your mother or me. You got that?”

She grinned at him. “Bossy, aren't you?”

“You bet your ass. Are you going to do what I say?”

“Don't I look like an obedient child?”

“You look like your mother's daughter, a pain in the ass,” he said. “You're also smart enough to do what's best.”

“Okay, pops. You can drive me to school.”

“‘Pops'?” he echoed, startled.

“You come on all parentlike, that's what you get,” she said cheerfully. “Okay?”

“Christ,” he grumbled. “Teenagers.” And he followed her out of the diner, a reluctant grin on his face.

 

It had taken Rachel forever to get to sleep, and when she finally did, her dreams were horrific. No secretly shameful erotic dreams about the bad boy—in these someone was chasing her, and she kept stumbling over dead women. Every time she turned to look at her pursuer his face changed. From David to Stephen Henry to Caleb. From her judgmental, fundamentalist father to Jared, who'd abandoned her, to all the faceless men she'd avoided over the years, only to make a mistake…

She woke up in a cold sweat, the dream still haunting her. She took deep, calming breaths, trying to shove away the sick, awful feeling that still lingered. Marrying David hadn't been a mistake—it had been the smart thing. For once in her life she'd done what her head had told her, not her heart.

She managed to push herself out of bed, moving across the polished hardwood floors to open the heavy linen curtains. The dull, gray day was like every other day, and she wanted to beat her head
against the thick glass. And then she noticed that despite the darkness of the weather, it was later than she realized.