TRACE EVIDENCE (26 page)

He made a fast phone call to the station and learned that Jacob was not only confessing to hitting his father and kidnapping his mother, but he'd also confessed to two more similar crimes.

In those two cases, the men had been killed and eventually so had the women. One of those cases was Riley Frazier's parents. At least his future brother-in-law would have final closure.

He was on his way out of the house when he saw the two pieces of the courting flute that had belonged to Tamara still on the bookcases behind his worktable. She must have forgotten them. He took the pieces with him and headed for her cottage.

She'd been with him through his foul moods and despair, it seemed only right that she know that his mother was home safe.

Chapter 16

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H
ome. She was home again … and alone.

Tamara had awakened early that morning knowing that she couldn't spend another night in Clay's house. She heard him leave early, had waited until the house was once again silent, then had gotten out of bed and packed to leave.

The heartache of loving Clay was almost too great to bear and she had known that to spend one more minute, one more hour, one more night in his home was impossible.

By ten she'd been packed and had called a cab to bring her back here. The cabby had dropped her off and she was relieved to see that all the windows had been replaced and at least from the outside the place didn't look any worse for the wear.

She approached the front door, steeling herself for what kind of a mess still might be inside. When she unlocked and opened the front door, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Jeb had done well. The floor was swept clean of all breakage. The deep rents in the sofa had been repaired with upholstery thread and needle. Although the shelves that had once held her hummingbird cob lection were now bare, she knew that eventually she would be able to fill them again … just as eventually her heart would mend.

The one thing she'd needed to do was keep busy. She had to find something, anything to do to keep her mind off Clay. Painting was out of the question. Her heart ached too deeply to feel creative.

She spent the next several hours absorbed in the task of trying to glue back together some of the hummingbird figurines that had meant so much to her.

As she worked, thoughts and memories of Clay continued to intrude, but she resolutely shoved them away. She and Clay had indulged in a kind of fantasy for a while, but now the fantasy was over and it was time to get back to her real life.

She had students to teach, paintings to paint and a cottage to put back together again. She had no place in her life for a man like Clay.

Apparently he had no place for her in his life as well. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she'd been expecting … hoping for a phone call from him. Surely he must know she was gone by now, but her phone remained silent.

By five that evening, tired of gluing bits and pieces back together, heartsick and lonely, she stretched out on her sofa and looked at the sketches she had done while at Clay's house.

The one he had seen of himself hadn't been the only one she'd drawn of him. There was a sketch of him at his worktable, one of him asleep and the one of him as a warrior that had caused their fight.

Each and every sketch caused a rip through her heart. She jumped as the phone rang. When she answered it was Alyssa. "I just heard yesterday that you'd been staying at Clay's," she said. "I tried there this morning then decided to try you here."

"Yeah, I'm just getting settled back in."

"Are you sure that's wise? I mean, they still don't know who trashed your house."

"I'll be fine here. I have good locks on the doors. Besides, I couldn't stay at Clay's any longer."

"I don't know, Tamara, I'm worried about you." Alyssa hesitated a moment, then continued, "I had a vision of you, Tamara, you and a monster. In my vision, the monster ripped out your heart."

A half sob, half burst of laughter escaped Tamara. "That wasn't a monster, that was your cousin, Clay."

There was a long moment of silence. "Oh, Tamara, I'm sorry," Alyssa finally said.

"Just please, whatever you do, don't say I told you so," Tamara replied, wiping at the tears that had come unbidden from her eyes.

"I'd never do that. Is there anything I can do?"

"No. I'll just lick my wounds for a few days, concentrate on some painting and I'll be fine."

"Want to meet for lunch tomorrow?"

"No, thanks. I appreciate the invite, but I'd like to spend a couple of days here getting settled back in."

"You'll call me?"

Tamara smiled. "You know I will." They said goodbye then Tamara hung up the phone. She curled back up on the sofa, noting that outside the window the sun was beginning to set.

"
Gv-ge-yu-hi
."
I love you. She whispered the words aloud, Clay's face a mental picture in her head. She closed her eyes against the tears that once again threatened to fall. How many tears could she shed over one man? A
heartful
… and that was plenty.

She hadn't realized she'd fallen asleep until she awakened to the sounds of footsteps once again clattering on her porch. She wasn't sure what time it was, but she knew in her heart it could only be Clay.

She jumped up off the sofa, raced to the door and pulled it open. A monster rushed in, shoving her backward, then standing in the doorway and growling ominously.

The bear. The bear from the legend come alive. Although someplace in the back of Tamara's head she knew that beneath the bear fur and skull there was a human being. But at the moment rational thought was vanquished beneath shock and fear.

As the bear roared, claws scratched high in the air … claws that appeared to be razor sharp. "I have come for you my Native princess," he said.

It was only when she heard his voice that she recognized who was beneath the bearskin. Terry Black. Certainly identifying him did nothing to alleviate her fear.

Terry was a big, tall, burly eighteen-year-old. She knew he had a reputation as a bully, that he enjoyed hurting people.

"I'm not a Native princess, Terry," she said, trying to keep the terror out of her voice as she backed away from him.

He stepped into the door and closed it behind him. "I've been waiting out there in the woods … night after night … waiting for you to come back here."

"Go home, Terry. Go home before you do something you'll regret." At the same time she spoke these words, her gaze darted around the room, frantically seeking a weapon of some kind.

"I'm not going anywhere until my job here is done." Terry pulled off the bear skull so she could clearly see his dark eyes … eyes that glittered with the anticipation of evil.

"Everyone's been shaking in their boots about the
slasher
serial killer, but after tonight, they will fear the power and destruction of the bear."

With these words, he advanced toward her.

* * *

Was it only last night that he and Tamara had fought? It seemed like a lifetime ago, Clay thought as he drove to her cottage. The day had been so full. And now his mother was home safe and sound and the wounds that had been inflicted on his family would be healed.

And those moments in the car alone with his mother had also healed some old wounds and created a confusion inside him. He shoved those thoughts aside. He just wanted to see Tamara now and let her know his mother was home safe.

When he pulled up in front of the cottage, he knew instantly that something was wrong. Although the front door was closed, silhouetted against the front window were two figures, not one.

One of those figures appeared huge, the other one much smaller and although it appeared they were moving in a strange dance of sorts, he knew it wasn't a dance. It was a struggle.

Drawing his gun, he left the car and approached the house in a crouch, hoping the steadily falling night would obscure his movements.

He needed to see exactly what was going on before he acted. He crept up to the front porch and peered into the window. The scene that met his gaze froze his breath.

Tamara was backed up against the far wall of the living room, wielding a small lamp like a weapon against the big bearskin-clad man who attacked her. Blood poured from a wound in her cheek and as he watched the man slapped at her with a huge bear claw.

Clay wasted no time. He burst through the front door, but tripped over a sofa cushion that had somehow landed in front of the door. He flew forward and the gun left his hand, sliding into the shadows beneath the sofa.

He was up and on his feet in a second. The bear creature turned and Clay saw the face of a teenager. The boy's features were rather coarse, the glint in his eyes cunning and the twisted smile was filled with malevolence.

"Clay!" Tamara exclaimed, her voice filled with the terror that darkened her eyes.

"Well, well. What have we here? Another victim of the bear. The bear can take care of two of you." The young man roared as he waved the deadly claws in the air. "And people will talk about the bear's power for years to come."

"Nobody is going to talk about a dumb teenager dressed up for Halloween," Clay scoffed. He needed to draw the boy away from Tamara.

"You shut up. I'm not a dumb teenager," he exclaimed.

"It's Terry Black, Clay," Tamara said.

Terry growled and swiped one of those claws in her direction, just barely missing her other cheek. "You shut up, bitch."

"I thought in the legend the bear loves the Native princess," Clay said, advancing two steps closer.

"He kills her anyway," Terry replied. "And you'd better stop right there or I'll take her head off right now."

Clay stopped in his tracks, cursing the fact that he didn't have his gun, respecting the sharpness of those claws and desperate to get Terry away from Tamara.

"You're the one who vandalized the classroom," he said, buying time so he could figure out what to do. "And you destroyed the cottage last week."

Terry grinned. "I wanted people to know my power."

"But your mother gave you an alibi. She said you were cleaning out the garage on the day this place was wrecked."

Terry's grin fell. "That stupid cow does what I tell her to do. She knows better than to cross me."

"So, you beat up on your mother and then you come to attack a young woman who lives alone." Clay snorted in derision. "Typical bully behavior … terrorizing the weak but scared to face an equal threat. Face it, Terry. You aren't anything but a big bully and everyone knows that at heart bullies are cowards."

His words had the desired affect. With an enraged bellow, Terry charged him. The two men fell to the floor, Clay grappling to grip the claws that posed the most danger. "Run, Tamara," he yelled as he fought. "Go on, get out of here."

He felt a searing pain down his side, along with the ripping sound of his shirt and knew a claw had made contact with his chest. He managed to grab one claw, vaguely surprised to realize Terry had strapped the claws onto his arms and hands.

They rolled over and over again on the floor, Clay ending up on top of Terry, but the boy kept an arm free, swiping dangerously close to Clay's face. Clay finally managed to grab Terry's flailing hand. He held both the young man's wrists tight as Terry bucked and kicked to get free. The kid was strong, stout, but Clay was older, more experienced and determined that Terry Black would do no future harm.

"Do you need my help?"

Clay looked behind him to see her standing with the gun in her hand. It was pointed at Terry and she held it calmly, steadily.

Clay scrambled up and took the gun from her. "Go find some rope and a pair of scissors," he said. Tamara raced for the kitchen. "And you, don't move," he said to Terry.

"It was just a joke," Terry exclaimed and forced a laugh. "Come on, man. It was just a big joke. I didn't mean anything by it."

Clay touched his chest where blood oozed from where the claw had made contact. "When you draw blood, it's no joke."

Tamara returned with the items Clay had requested. He handed her the gun once again. "If he moves … shoot him."

"It would be my pleasure," she replied.

Armed with the scissors and rope, Clay first cut the bear claws from Terry's arms and threw them across the room. He then tied the boy's hands behind his back and tied his feet together.

"That should hold him. I'll just call in and get somebody here to take him away." Clay made the call, then he and Tamara stood, watching Terry as they waited for his transport to jail.

"You son-of-a-bitch. You really think I'm going to jail? I'm going to come back for you," Terry yelled.

"Shut up before you irritate me," Clay warned.

Terry growled. "I'm the bear! I will have the Native princess."

Clay walked over to him and slammed his fist into Terry's mouth. Tamara gasped and Terry cried out as his bottom lip split and spurted blood. "I warned you," Clay said. "Native warriors don't like bears talking about their Native princesses."