A Gift of Time (Tassamara) (27 page)

“10-9, dispatch,” Colin responded, fingers tapping on his steering wheel as he asked for a repeat of the message.

“Ah, hell with it,” Rudean muttered, before saying in a stronger voice. “Got a tip. Joyce wants someone to check it out. Some schmo saw lights out at a house on Mud Lake.”

Colin frowned. That didn't sound like much of a lead. Mud Lake? He couldn't even remember which lake that was. “Why me?”

“Joyce said to send the nearest free car. That’s you,” Rudean answered promptly.

“Did she really intend for you to send the sheriff?” Colin questioned. It didn’t sound like Joyce. He was sure she’d want him back at the office, overseeing the action.

“You getting uppity, boy? Too big for your britches?” Rudean admonished him.

Colin rolled his eyes as he turned the key in the ignition and started the car. No wonder Joyce let Rudean take the dispatch duties. She’d probably taken lessons in scolding from him back when Colin was barely out of school.

“All right, Mud Lake it is,” Colin said as he pulled out onto the road. “Where is it?”

“Ah, they call it something pretty now. Some developer bought it up.”

Colin thought, puzzled for a moment and then his face cleared. “Elsinore Lake, right? Got that gorgeous house by that Danish architect on it?”

“That’s the one,” Rudean said, sounding relieved. “Lights in the house apparently.”

“I thought the developer went bankrupt.” Colin felt a trickle of excitement tingle down his spine. “No one lives there.”

“That’s the place,” Rudean said, voice cheerful. “Probably nothing. Fool’s seeing swamp gas.”

“On my way.” Colin slotted the transceiver back into its holder and hit the accelerator. Rudean was right. It was probably nothing. But he'd check it out anyway, as quickly as possible.

Natalya spread her hands wide. The shattered glass behind her back let in a cold breeze, the chill of the bracing night air against her skin not quite enough to distract her from the throbbing pain in her face. “Mr. Thompson,” she said, her voice as firm as she could make it with shaky adrenaline pouring through her system, “please calm down now. Let Travis go.”

“That don’t work,” snarled Travis, breathlessly struggling to keep Thompson pinned down.

“Demons,” howled Thompson. “The evil must be struck down.” With one huge push, he forced Travis off of him and rolled onto his hands and knees. Shaking his head, he paused for a moment before lurching to his feet.

Travis, sprawled on the floor, pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Run,” he gasped out. “Run. You can’t fix him when he’s like this. You just gotta get outta the way.”

Natalya ignored him. Stepping forward, she used her most authoritative doctor voice, the one that sent interns scurrying in the emergency room. “Mr. Thompson, we need to get you help. Everything is going to be okay. I need you to trust me. I’m a doctor, and I can help you if you let me.”

If Thompson heard her words, he showed no sign of it. He lifted his head to the ceiling, his eyes glazed. “I can’t, I can’t,” he muttered. “I can’t.” And then, with a groan that sounded like pain, he shook his head as if he were a stunned bull hit by a matador and advanced on Natalya.

She stood her ground, her heart pounding, and said again, voice steady but for a breathless break as he reached her, “Please let me help you.”

But there was no getting through to him.

He reached out for her and grabbed, his hands closing on her shoulders only briefly before they slid up and around her throat. Natalya’s eyes widened and her hands came up, clutching his wrists, trying to wrench them away, to loosen his fingers. Her nails dug into his skin, feeling the give under them, the dig that said she might be drawing blood, but he didn’t relent.

Her head fell back. The pain in her cheek still hurt more than his hands around her throat, but the pressure felt as if it were forcing her larynx back into her vertebrae, a steady weight closing off her air supply. She kicked Thompson, but her bare foot against his shin was a leaf against rock. He didn’t react and her toes hurt. Drawing her leg up, she tried to knee him in the groin, but his legs were close together, preventing her from reaching an angle that could do damage.

“No,” shouted Travis.

He was hitting Thompson, Natalya realized dimly. But her eyes were already fluttering closed. Her chest burned with the pain of her contained breath and now it hurt, her bruised cheek dimming into insignificance against the fire in her lungs.

“You can’t, you can’t, you have to drown her!” Travis sounded frantic. “That’s what the book says. Drowning. That’s what you do, drown evil. Nothing else works!”

The grip on her throat relaxed and Natalya drew in a shuddering breath of air.

“Yes. Drowned in the depth of the sea.” Thompson’s husky voice sounded dazed, almost flat.

Natalya’s eyes opened to the sight of Thompson staring down at her. The moonlight cast terrifying shadows across his face but she could still see the tragic figure behind them.

“The lake,” Travis suggested. “You need to take her to the lake.”

Natalya swallowed, her throat feeling bruised and sore. What the hell was Travis doing? She supposed she should be grateful he hadn’t run away. She could be dead by now if he hadn’t intervened. She hadn’t expected Thompson to move so quickly, so aggressively. But still—drowning? The lake?

“Yes,” Thompson agreed again.

He grabbed Natalya’s upper arm and began pulling her toward the stairs, his fingers digging into her so hard she could almost feel the bruises forming underneath them. She stumbled after him, not resisting, confused and unsure. Thompson was too strong. She couldn’t fight him, not directly. She needed to get away. They needed to get help. Her mind raced in circles, unable to come up with a coherent plan.

Travis hadn’t run. He was right behind them, following so closely that his presence felt threatening. He wasn’t going to help Thompson drown her, was he? They hadn’t exactly hit it off, but Natalya had stopped thinking he was dangerous the moment he let his little adopted sister wave him off her porch. Was she wrong?

Natalya felt a bubble of hysteria rising. She let out a shaky, gasping breath, searching for the calming, cleansing breath she used to use when a three-car pile-up hit the emergency room on a Friday night, but not succeeding.

As they reached the stairs and Thompson started down, Travis grabbed her free hand and squeezed hard, not letting go. Natalya glanced at him. He jerked his chin down, before slipping by her, against the wall. Three steps down, four, and then Travis kicked the older man—hard—in the back of the knee.

Thompson stumbled, letting out a grunt of surprise, and his grip relaxed, but Travis hadn’t waited. He bolted up the stairs, not letting go of Natalya’s hand. For a moment, Natalya was caught between them, one arm yanked backward, the other pulled forward, Thompson two steps below her, Travis above. With a grimace and gritted teeth, she raised her foot and kicked Thompson in the kidneys.

It wasn’t the hardest kick, but it didn’t have to be. Thompson let go and reeled forward, falling down onto the landing a few steps below him. Natalya let Travis pull her away, following him as he ran through the open room to an archway in the wall on the other side, around a corner and through a door.

As soon as she was inside, he slammed the door shut behind them. She could hear him fumbling with the lock.

Natalya bent over, putting her hands on her knees, feeling as if she wanted to throw up. She’d never hit anyone before, much less kicked someone in the back.

Travis leaned against the door, breathing hard. “Shit, lady, you’re crazy, you know that?”

Natalya felt a strange urge to laugh. She straightened. “You could have run.”

“As if,” he muttered.

“Drowning?”

“It was the only thing I could think of. He was gonna kill ya.”

“Thanks for saving me.” Natalya looked toward the window. This room faced the front of the house, away from the water. The bright moonlight cast only a dim glow, leaving the room shadowed, mysterious.

“Ya ain’t saved yet.” Travis sounded grim.

“Are we trapped?”

The doorknob rattled. Travis shook his head and pointed toward the corner of the room, as Thompson began pounding on the door. The door shook in its frame, but the lock held.

Natalya followed the direction of Travis’s pointing finger but didn’t see a door. She took a few steps closer before spotting the metal railing marking a hole in the floor. A spiral staircase led down into blackness.

“We have to get help,” she told Travis. “How close is the nearest house?”

He shrugged. “No idea. You and Mac, you should get to the canoe. Paddle outta here.”

Natalya wasn’t about to leave the boys alone with a man in the midst of a psychotic breakdown. Who knew what delusions would attack him next? She shook her head. “Not likely.”

Travis was leaning against the door, pushing back against the wood as it shook with Thompson’s battering. “He wants to kill you. You got that, right?”

Thompson banged on the door, rhythmic thuds that sounded like a heartbeat.

“I know.” Natalya swallowed. For a brief moment, she reached for knowledge she didn’t have. But her foresight stayed stubbornly silent. “But he could also kill any of you. He’s having a psychotic break. He’s not responsible for what he does.”

Travis snorted. “Ain’t gonna care too much about that if he murders me.” The words sounded full of bravado and in the darkness, Natalya couldn’t see his face. But she suspected grief and fear lay under the teenage machismo.

“Come to that, me neither,” she said, but her words were drowned out as Thompson roared with frustration, his pounding growing louder, harder. She waved at Travis to indicate they should go down the stairs, but he shook his head.

“Find Mac and get outta here. I’ll hold the door for as long as I can.”

“I’m not leaving all of you here with him.” Natalya took a deep breath and said, in a steadier voice, “We need to get help. And fast. What’s the best way?”

“The canoe,” Travis answered promptly. “It’s a long way by road, but we go fast across the lake so as not to get spotted by the house on the west shore. There’s folks living there.”

“Good. Take the canoe and go,” Natalya ordered.

“You and Mac should take it,” Travis insisted.

“You saw me paddling that canoe,” Natalya snapped at him. “We don’t have time for that. We need help fast and you’re the only one who knows where to go and how to get there.”

For a heartbeat, Travis paused in indecision. “Should I look for Mac?”

Natalya pressed her lips together, wishing desperately for better options, then shook her head and said, with an authority she did not feel, “We don’t know where she is and every second counts. You don’t have time to find her and you’ll move faster without her weight. Just go. Quickly.”

Travis scowled, before grunting in reluctant acknowledgement. “Yeah, okay. Be careful.” Pushing away from the door, he headed for the stairs, passing by her and starting down them without hesitation.

Natalya followed more carefully. It was dark. Seriously, thoroughly dark. Partway down the spiral, hand clenched tight on the metal railing, she paused. She’d heard a sound under Thompson’s pounds, a different sound. It took her a second to place it, but when she did, her breath stopped. It was the creak of wood giving way. The door frame must be bending under the force of his weight being thrown against it.

“He’s going to break down the door,” she warned Travis.

“You gotta find the kids,” he answered out of the darkness. “I’ll go as fast as I can. Don’t let him catch you.”

How the hell was she going to manage that?

She could hear Travis moving away. A door opened, creating a patch of lighter shadow against the dark and she saw his silhouette for a moment before he disappeared through it.

She hurried the rest of the way down the stairs, hand sweaty on the railing. At the bottom, she paused. Travis hadn’t stumbled or hesitated, so the room must be empty, but she stretched out her hands in front of her as she made her way to the door. As she got closer to the rectangle of light, she realized the walls were lined with shelves. The room must have been meant as a library or office. Perhaps the room they’d been in upstairs was the master bedroom.

In the hallway, she closed the door behind her. It would take Thompson longer to find his way out without the light. It might give her an extra minute or two.

Where would the children have hidden?

Natalya’s cheek ached and her throat felt sore and bruised. The adrenaline had drowned out the pain for a few short minutes, but it was back with a vengeance. And she was cold, bitterly cold, her fingers and toes numb and stiff, despite the fear making her heart race.

The hallway extended to the right, toward the front of the house, and to the left, around a corner. The main staircase ought to be toward the left, she thought, so she started in that direction, moving as quickly as she dared in the dark.

She passed a door and opened it, sticking her head inside. “Kenzi? Jamie?” She kept her voice quiet, not wanting Thompson to follow its sound. No one answered. If she locked the door, would Thompson delay to try to break it down? She felt for the lock, trying to discover if it was the kind she could turn before pulling the door closed or whether she’d have to be inside the room to lock it.

The silence was eerie. All she could hear was the sound of her own harsh breathing. It reminded her of being young, playing hide-and-seek in the dark with her siblings and friends, while their parents enjoyed dinner downstairs. Or Ghost in the Graveyard, outside, after dark, with all the neighborhood kids on spring evenings when the mosquitoes were biting and bats darted across the sky.

Except, she realized abruptly, the silence was because Thompson had stopped battering the upstairs door. He must have finally broken through it.

She was out of time.

She pulled the door closed, unlocked, and ran down the hallway, skidding around the corner, and raced down the next hallway to the main staircase. She passed door after door, knowing the kids might be hidden behind any of them. But she didn’t want to call out. If they were safely hidden, maybe she should let them stay hidden.