Blood And Bone (24 page)

By the time she’d finished taking pictures of the crumbling bedrooms, a sick feeling had settled in the pit of her stomach and sadness weighed down on her like a wet blanket. A heavy sort of despair hung in the air as if the emotions from that night were permanently imprinted on the house’s rotting walls.

She could hardly wait to get out of there.

But as she stepped from the last stair into the foyer, Shayne stopped her in her tracks. The outline of a pick up truck parked next to her own car was barely visible through the grime-covered window beside to the door. Her heart pounded, hard and fast. Cold dread knotted her stomach.

“Hey there, girlie,” a man’s voice called from somewhere in the house, horribly familiar and laced with dark merriment. “Looks like I finally caught you alone.”

Chapter Eighteen

“Heddra Grey had no idea the endless barrage of scare tactics she’d orchestrated to bully her daughter into submission would act as a trigger, and inevitably would lead to the murder of daughter and grandson.”

—excerpt from
Blood and Bone
by Shayne Reynolds

Des flung open the front door to his uncle’s red brick Victorian. The dark wood banged off the pink wall so hard the stained glass window rattled in its mounting. He hardly noticed as he stormed through the house looking for his aunt. Spiteful bitch. If anything happened to Shayne…

He found her sitting at the table in the kitchen, wrapped in a faded pink bathrobe, her dry hair sticking out like dirty straw. She stared wide-eyed, and the coffee cup in her hand shook.

Was she afraid? She should be. For the first time in his life, he could connect with whatever impulse had driven his father that fateful night. Christ, maybe Heddi was right. Maybe he was just like the man, after all.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he snarled.

“Get out of here,” Vivian snapped. She stood and clunked the table with the cup. Coffee splashed over the rim and pooled on the glass. “I’ll call the police. I don’t care who you are. I’ll have you arrested.”

Her eyes darted around the room as if searching for a way out. Unfortunately for her, he blocked the only exit. “Why would you tell Shayne about my deal with Heddi? You of all people should know what Heddi’s capable of.”

She set her hand on her hips and cocked her head. “You should have told me where Ian was, instead of protecting him and humiliating me.”

“You did this to get back at me?” he asked, furious and stunned all at once.

“I know he’s seeing someone.” Vivian’s words spewed fast and angry. “He meets her secretly. He has for months, and it’s always the same woman. I know because I always see the same phone numbers in his phone. I haven’t done the things I have for him, put up with what I have, to be cast aside now. I won’t be left with nothing.”

“I don’t know who Ian’s seeing,” Des exploded. He could still barely wrap his head around the idea Heddi might do God only knows what to Shayne all because of some petty revenge scheme. “What do you think Heddi will do to you once she learns you interfered with her plan? You didn’t think about that, did you?”

Her face paled, and yesterday’s smudged makeup stood out darker around her eyes. “She won’t care. I heard her talking to Kate. They didn’t think you were holding up your end of the bargain. Heddi was going to pull out of the deal anyway.”

His anger deflated like an old balloon, cold fear creeping in to take its place. If his aunt was telling the truth, there was a very good chance Heddi had already spoken to Tic and Shayne was already back on his radar. “When did you hear Heddi and Kate talking?”

Vivian blinked as if confused. Maybe by the sudden shift from angry to urgent in his tone.

“Yesterday morning,” she said hesitantly.

Before or after Kate promised to buy him more time?

“Mother, get dressed. I need to speak to Des,” Kate said from behind him. How long had she been listening? Probably from the start.

Vivian scurried past, giving him a wide berth like a dog she didn’t trust. He turned his attention to his cousin. “You never planned to give me more time?”

Kate blew out a soft sigh and strolled across the kitchen to the coffeemaker. Her high heels clicked on the slate tile. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Bull. Shit. You could have told me.”

“I know your chance to get out of paying the money back has been ruined,” she said with her back to him as she poured a cup of coffee. She turned and leaned against the counter, mug in hand. “Maybe we can come up with some other way of getting Heddi to write off the debt.

Coffee?”

“The money? Do you actually think I care about the money?” he asked, fighting to keep his voice low. “What if something happens to her? What if Tic kills her?”

Kate’s face pinched in disbelief. “You’re angry because of her? The writer? You have to be joking. She was using you, Des.”

“No, Kate, I was using her, because that’s what Greys do. We’re parasitic. We latch onto a host and feed until we get what we want, then we move on without a thought to the damage we leave behind.”

“I am sick of your crap.” Kate banged the cup on the counter “This tragic, put-upon act you’ve got going makes me sick. Poor Des, having to act against his better nature. Like you’re somehow morally superior to the rest of us. Do you think you’re the only one? Do you think I like what I’ve had to do for this family? Grow up. We all make our choices, and you made yours. There’s no point in bitching about it now.”

She folded her arms over her chest, one corner of her mouth lifted in a smug smirk as if daring him to disagree. Despite the black hate bubbling inside him like hot tar, he almost laughed. He agreed with her, wholeheartedly.

“You’re absolutely right, Kate,” he said, his voice soft with a pleasant sort of menace. “I have done things I’m not proud of. But I’ve made a decision that makes me very happy, and I want you to repeat it word for word to Heddi. You’re good at that, aren’t you?”

Kate’s smirk remained fixed in place, but her brows rose.

“You tell her if anything happens to Shayne, if she so much as chips a goddamned nail, I’ll tell anybody who will listen Heddi was involved.”

Kate’s smile dimmed and her eyes narrowed again. “No one would believe you, and you couldn’t prove a thing.”

“True. Still, I’d go to the police, and every newspaper I can think of. Even without proof, her grandson’s claim that the two of you have been involved in such nasty dealings would probably make for an interesting story. Hell, and while I’m at it, maybe I’ll spill every sordid family secret I know.”

Kate’s smarmy expression vanished, now she looked…concerned. Dark delight burst inside him like the sun’s rays burning through black clouds.

“You wouldn’t—” she started.

“Yeah. I would. I like Shayne. I don’t like any of you.”

“You’d better be careful, Des. I promise you, Heddi doesn’t take threats lightly, and neither do I.” She nipped her lip, her eyes unusually bright. Oh, the wheels were turning, that was for sure. And he’d probably just painted a huge target on his back. So be it. As long as he’d taken the target off Shayne.

Oh, shit. Tic.

Fear burst inside Shayne. Her knees almost buckled and she grabbed the wobbly newel post to stop herself from crumpling to the floor.

Without thinking, she gripped the knob for the front door. Locked. Her damp palm slid over dust-coated brass and tried the smaller knob for the bolt. Her sweat-slicked fingers slipped on the smooth metal. She rubbed her hand on her jeans and tried again, but the bolt wouldn’t turn.

Behind her, the floor creaked and heavy footfalls thudded her way. She gave up on the door and ducked into the dining room. Maybe she could double back on Tic and slip out the door in the kitchen. She tiptoed as quickly and quietly as she could to the small hall off the kitchen, but came to an abrupt halt. Her heart lodged in her throat. A tall, skinny man stood with his back to the room, facing the foyer where Tic had gone.

“Do you see her?” he asked.

“Not yet,” Tic replied. He sounded like he was near the front hall. “But she’s here all right. I can smell her.”

A sick shudder rippled through her. She had to get out of there. Should she try for the back door? Make a run for it? If she was quiet, she might be able to slip past Tic’s friend. As if sensing her train of thought, the man glanced back over his shoulder.

Shayne’s breath caught, and she jerked sideways, out of sight. Sharp pain blossomed in her hip. She bit her lip to keep the yelp from escaping, and glanced down at the brass knob digging into her side.

What was behind door number one? A pantry? Closet? Somewhere to hide?

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” Tic’s voice boomed, filled with mirthful menace. His heavy footfalls grew louder.

Shit, he was in the dining room, headed her way. The blood in her head rushed to her toes. She grabbed the cold brass knob, turned and pushed the door open. The hinges creaked softly, and she winced, holding her breath waiting for both men to pounce. Neither spoke, and Tic’s pace didn’t increase. Maybe they hadn’t heard.

She glanced into the darkened opening. A rickety set of wood stairs led to a shadowy cellar. Crap. Would they even support her weight, or crumble into dust the moment she took her first step?

She didn’t have time to debate.

Gritting her teeth, she stepped onto the first stair. The wood creaked, but held, and she pulled the door closed behind her.

Breath lodged in her lungs, she pressed her ear to the rough wood. Tic’s footsteps stopped outside the door. Her heart ceased to beat.

“Maybe she saw the truck and took off before we came in.” The skinny man’s voice through the thick wood sounded muffled.

“I’m going to check upstairs. You watch the door.” The dark humor had vanished from Tic’s voice, leaving his tone icy and, if possible, more menacing.

She tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry. She had to get the hell away from this nut job, before she wound up a victim in someone else’s book.

She eased down the stairs. Drapes of cobwebs brushed against her head and cheek. She shuddered and raked her fingers through her hair, imagining eight-legged critters creeping along her scalp.

Once on the hard-packed dirt floor in the basement, she reached into her bag for her cell phone to call the police. “No Service” flashed across the screen. Her stomach sank. The stone walls were probably blocking the reception. She’d have to find a way out or a weapon.

Faint, watery sunlight seeped through tiny gaps in the tangled foliage pressed against dirty, narrow windows mounted high in stone walls. Were the windows wide enough to pull herself through? Maybe.

She crossed the room, dropped her bag and camera to the ground, then gripped the ledge. Something small with many legs scurried out from under her fingertips. She let out a high squeak, pressed her lips together and tensed. She stood frozen, straining for any sound or indication the men above had heard her.

Nothing.

She let out the breath she’d been holding and hauled herself up, pushing against the stone wall with the toe of her sneakers for leverage. The rubber soles slipped on the gritty surface, but she managed to prop an elbow on the ledge and push against the dried wood window frame with her free hand. It wouldn’t budge.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered through gritted teeth. The house was rotted and crumbling, but the damn window frame was as secure as ever.

She let go of the ledge and dropped to the ground. She’d have to break the glass. But what if they heard and grabbed her before she could pull herself through? Maybe she should try one of the other windows first.

The doorknob at the top of the stairs rattled. The hinges creaked. A wave of panic crashed inside her. She grabbed her camera and bag, and darted to the far side of the basement, behind the stairs. She needed a weapon something to fight back with. She scanned the area, but there was nothing…

Her gaze fell on a two-foot gap between the wood rafters and stone wall.

A way out?

She squinted to see better in the dim light. An old cistern. About five feet long, three feet wide and who knew how deep. Maybe not a way out, but a place she could hide.

Used to store water before indoor plumbing, Shayne had no idea if the cistern had been closed off or was still functioning. She tossed her bag and camera over the wall. They landed with a thud. Didn’t sound like there was water in there. That was good, though who knew what else she’d find? Bugs? Wild animals?

Well, she liked her odds with insects or a rabid raccoon better than facing off against Tic.

She grabbed the edge, not quite as high as she was tall, and pulled herself up. Inside, a thick layer of spider webs covered the bottom like a carpet. Oh God. She hesitated, heebie-jeebies scuttling over her back like the arachnids were already crawling along skin.

“I think she ran,” the man from the kitchen’s voice rose over heavy footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Shut-up, Norton. She’s here,” Tic growled.

The hell with it. She swung her legs up and over.

Jagged stone at the top of the wall scraped her belly. Stinging lines flared to life over her skin. She bit her lip against the pain, let herself go from the ledge and dropped into the cistern.

Her feet landed in a pile of brittle sticks, and she lost her footing. She tipped back, landed hard on her backside, and locked stares with the black, empty eye sockets of a human skull.

Chapter Nineteen

“While some fathers who kill do so as an attempt to clean the slate and start anew, others murder out of an overdeveloped sense of ownership of their families. This was believed to be the motive behind Gwendolyn Grey Anderson’s murder.”

—excerpt from
Blood and Bone
by Shayne Reynolds

Oh God, she was sitting on a dead person.

Shayne slapped both hands over her mouth to hold back the scream building in her throat. Something sharp jabbed the back of her thigh. Probably another bone. A shudder gripped her, but she held herself rigidly against it.

“I’m telling you, she saw the truck and ran,” Norton’s nasal voice carried down the stairs, and Tic grunted.