Bound to the Past (Starville Series Book 1) (34 page)

She smiled. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

***

“Are you sure youʼre going to be all right? I can stay if you want―”

Jack rolled his eyes with a smirk. “Sara, all I have to do is go to Carrieʼs hotel and look at that file. No big deal. You go to Nickyʼs and donʼt think about it, okay?”

Sara bit her bottom lip and gave him an uncertain look. “Just be careful. And donʼt forget I left―”

“A couple of sandwiches for me in the kitchen. Yes, Mommy, I know.” He chuckled as she wrinkled her nose, and he kissed the tip of it. “Sweetheart, relax. Everythingʼs going to be fine.”

“I know.” She sighed. “Iʼm being a silly worrywart, arenʼt I?”

“Yes. But youʼre an
adorable
silly worrywart,” he said, planting another kiss on her lips. “Now go and have fun. Iʼll see you later tonight.”

As soon as the front door closed behind her, Jack blew out a deep breath and pressed the heels of his hands against his temple. Thank God he didnʼt have to pretend anymore. The dull throb that had started there a few hours ago had turned into a blinding, teeth-gritting pain that nearly brought him to his knees―but damn if heʼd let Sara know. She never would have left.

The painkillers
, he thought confusedly. Where the hell were his painkillers? As much as he hated relying on medication, he had no choice but to succumb to it tonight. No way could he risk not being able to ride his bike to Carrieʼs hotel later.

Heading carefully upstairs, Jack opened the bathroom cabinet and tossed a couple of pills into his mouth. Closing his eyes, he leaned over the sink, his fingers squeezing the edges until his knuckles whitened. Blew out another breath.
There
. Soon heʼd feel better. Sleepy, but better. He slowly walked back into the bedroom and slid a glance at the clock on the nightstand. It was barely seven thirty p.m.. Maybe he could take a little nap before the appointment.

With a yawn, he fell onto the bed and closed his eyes.

***

Sitting on the bed in her room, Carrie looked down at her watch for the millionth time. It was barely eleven thirty, and Jack wouldnʼt be there until midnight. The phone call with her colleagues in Chicago had finished earlier than she had anticipated, which had allowed her to complete her article before Jack arrived. Unfortunately, though, now that she had nothing else to do, time seemed to drag, and she found herself bored out of her mind and looking forward to midnight. She absently picked up the draft of the article she had just written, only to put it right back down with a sigh. It was useless. Her mind was elsewhere, her heart was racing, and she couldnʼt concentrate on anything but Jack coming over soon. Rising, she walked to the small desk and opened her briefcase where the file was stored.

The sound of the buzzer made the knot in her already-tense nerves tighten even more.
Jack was here!
Apparently he was just as impatient as her, she thought with a smile, pressing the button that unlocked the guest door downstairs. A few seconds later, a powerful knock on her door told her heʼd made it up already, and she swung it open.

“Youʼre a little early―” Her words ended in a gasp as she was shoved hard in the chest and stumbled backward.

“Didnʼt your mama teach you not to open the door unless you know whoʼs on the other side?”

Carrie raised her head in confusion and froze. “Oh, my God,” she whispered breathlessly, aghast, staring at the dark-dressed figure in front of her. A trembling hand flew to her gaping mouth. “It was you! All this time…all these years…it was you…”

“Carrie, Carrie, Carrie. You just canʼt stay out of trouble, can you?”

She saw the intruderʼs head shake as a cold grin appeared on the familiar face. Her vision blurred as a shiny gun was pointed straight at her chest, flashing in the moonlight.

“D-donʼt do anything you might regret. Please… I wonʼt say a thing, I swear. Take the file, if you want―”

 “You shouldʼve minded your own business, Carrie. But you couldnʼt keep your nose out, could you?”

“I d-didnʼt know,” she stuttered again, her voice broken as she took a few steps backward, toward the sliding door leading to the balcony. She needed to get out there, she thought confusedly, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. Once on the balcony, she could scream for help, and maybe somebody would hear her, and…

“Iʼm sorry. Had you stayed in Chicago, this would never have happened. But you didnʼt.” Carrieʼs heart thundered to a stop at the sarcastic grin that followed those words. “What a pity, though. I actually liked you.”

“Please…” Her arms stretched in front of her, Carrie took another silent step toward the door, then another. She held her breath as her feet touched the threshold.
You can do this!

With a sudden movement, she turned around and pushed the door open with all of her strength, then ran out on the balcony. Leaning over the iron railing, she took a long breath and got ready to shout as loud as she could―but her voice choked in her throat the instant she realized her tormentor was already behind her. A strong hand covered her mouth, catching her cry. Carrie barely got a glimpse of the gun grip before it slammed against her head with so much force that she nearly blacked out. Even in the semiconscious state into which she had fallen, she realized that she was being forced to lean over the railing…and then she was flying into the darkness.

Chapter 24

Jack jerked awake with a start and looked around confusedly. It was dark outside. How long had he been sleeping?

He sat up slowly, as if afraid the pain heʼd felt before would be back, but there was none. As he rubbed his eyes and looked around, his blurred gaze registered that he was in the living room. On the couch.
Strange
. He could have sworn heʼd crashed on the bed? Shaking his head hard, Jack glanced at the blinking light on the phone. There were two messages on the answering machine. Crap, he hadnʼt even heard it ring! Yawning loudly, he pressed the button to listen to the first one. It was from Sara―sheʼd called around nine thirty to make sure he was okay. Sheʼd call back later, she said. After a shrill beep that made his head throb all over again, the second message started.

Jack, itʼs me again. Itʼs 11:15 p.m., so maybe youʼve left for your appointment already? Anyway
,
I just wanted to let you know that Iʼll be back in an hour or so. Talk to you later, bye.

“Shit!” Jack cursed behind his teeth and ran to the bathroom to splash his face. Sara had called at 11:15―what time was it now? He didnʼt know and didnʼt care. All he knew was that he was late for his appointment with Carrie.

Damn injured knee, damn throbbing head, and damn painkillers!
Pain or no pain, he was never going to take those devilish pills again.

With another curse, he dashed out of the house and jumped on his bike. It seemed like a lifetime later when he finally arrived at the Lonestar Inn and parked the motorcycle in the deserted lot. Remembering Carrieʼs instructions, he headed straight toward the guest entrance on the side of the building and was about to buzz when he realized the door was already cracked open.
All the better
. He had no time to waste.

Upstairs, he found Carrieʼs room and knocked on the door. Nobody answered. Frowning, he shoved a hand into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out the piece of paper where Carrie had written down her room number:
327
. It was the right one. He knocked harder―again and again—to no avail. This time when he ran down the stairs, he went through the main door. The reception was still open.

“I need you to call a room for me, please. Number 327, Ms. Caroline Ward.”

The bored-looking man sitting at the desk shook his head. “Itʼs very late, sir—”

“Sheʼs expecting me. Itʼs very important.”

He gave him a long look before nodding. “Very well, sir.”

One ring, two, three
… Jack snatched the phone from the astonished clerkʼs hand and pushed Brentʼs cell number.

“Jack, hi,” his friendʼs surprised voice greeted him on the other end of the line. “I thought you had an appointment with Carrie?”

“Yeah, well, Iʼm at her hotel right now, but sheʼs not answering her door or phone.”

There was a brief silence, followed by a sharp intake of breath.

“Ask the manager to check her room; if he refuses, tell him that youʼve already called the police. Iʼll be there as soon as I can.”

“Okay. But hurry up, Brent,” Jack added in a whisper. “I have a bad feeling.”

***

Jack was still trying to convince the manager to open Carrieʼs room for him when Brent strode into the lobby. He wasnʼt wearing his uniform but had his badge in his right hand.

“Police,” he announced, showing it to the man. “Iʼm Deputy Hayden. I need you to open this door immediately.”

The manager blinked at him in surprise. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

Jack glared at him as he fished a few magnetic cards out of his pocket and slid one into the lock. As the door clicked open, he and Brent rushed inside: no trace of Carrie. They carefully examined the empty bathroom, checked the closet, and even looked under the bed…until Brent stopped in the middle of the room.

“Jack,” he murmured, pointing at the open sliding door in front of him. They ran out on the balcony and leaned over the railing at the same time. They both winced at the sight of Carrieʼs body lying on the ground, twisted in an unnatural position.

“Goddammit!” Jackʼs fist crashed hard against the metal railing, making it rattle from the force of the blow.

Brent kept staring almost in a daze. “Carrie…” Shaking his head hard, he pulled out his cell and dialed 9-1-1. His voice was cold and detached as he briefly explained the situation to the person on the other end of the line, then hung up. “I need you to leave this room immediately, Jack,” he said flatly, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

Jack turned to him with a frown. “Huh?”

“Thereʼs so much I have to do—get in touch with Forensics, then Carrieʼs family.” He took a deep breath. “You need to get outta here.”

“But—”

“Get out, Jack. Now. Iʼll call you tomorrow.”

Jack hesitated a few moments, then nodded. “Find the bastard who killed her, Brent. Throw him in jail and toss away the key.”

Brent looked him straight in the eye. “Trust me, it is precisely what I intend to do.”

***

Jack rode his bike to Saraʼs house in a daze.

She was sitting at her desk, her fingers typing fast on the computer keyboard, and she looked completely absorbed in her writing. He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe and allowed himself to study her for a few moments, trying to memorize the way she looked right then and there, before he was going to destroy her serenity. She was so beautiful. So peaceful. After all the horror of the last hour, it felt almost unreal being there with her as if nothing had happened.

He could have looked at her forever, but somehow she sensed his presence and turned around with a start.

“Hey! I didnʼt hear you come in.” Her smile slipped the instant she noticed the aghast look in his eyes. Her entire body seemed to stiffen, and she barely managed to stand up. “Whatʼs wrong?”

“Just hold me.” Jack pulled her into his arms and pressed her hard against him.

Sara quietly returned his desperate hug, though her heart was racing with the awareness that something was wrong. Terribly wrong. She stroked his nape and kissed his cheek. “Honey, are you all right?”

He didnʼt respond but slowly pulled away and left the room. Frowning, she followed him to the living room and watched him as he grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet and poured some in a glass.

“Sorry, I need to drink something first. Want one, too?”

“No. Jack, youʼre making me extremely nervous. Please, tell me whatʼs wrong.”

He tossed it all down in one gulp and poured some more. “Itʼs Carrie. Sheʼs dead.”

Sara gasped. “What? How… What happened?”

Jack downed the second shot of whiskey before he turned his head to look at her, his eyes filled with anguish. “All I know is that I got to the hotel and knocked on her door, but she didnʼt answer. I called Brent. When he came, we had the hotel manager open her room and noticed that the window to the balcony was open, so we went out, and—” He swallowed hard. “She was murdered, Sara. I know it. Somebody pushed her over that damn balcony.”

“Oh, my God!” She raised a shaking hand to her mouth. “What about the file? Have you seen it?”

“No.” He gave her a bewildered look, as though the thought hadnʼt even occurred to him. “Do you think she might have been killed because of that stupid file?”

“I donʼt know, but thatʼs the first thing that came to my mind. Either way, weʼll know soon. If the file is still in the room, Brent will find it. Otherwise…” Her words trailed off as Jack growled another curse and sat on the couch.

He inhaled sharply. “Itʼs my fault.”

“Jack.”

“I killed them.”

Saraʼs mind was so confused that it took a while for her to register his words, and when she did, she was sure sheʼd imagined them. “W-what did you say?”

“Carrie and Charlene―I did it, Sara. I killed them.”

Jackʼs eyes were darkened with so much desperation that her knees went weak, and she had to lean against the dining table to keep from falling. He didnʼt say… He couldnʼt mean…

“Jack, just what the heck are you talking about?”

“It was all my fault,” he repeated in a whisper. “I should never have returned here. I shouldnʼt have involved them in this mess. Now theyʼre dead, and itʼs my fault.”

Relief flooded over her, so intense that Sara almost burst out crying. Staggering to the couch, she let herself fall onto it beside Jack and hugged him tight. Oh, gosh, but for a moment, sheʼd thought… She shook her head hard and pulled back just enough to look at him. “Jack, listen to me: None of this is
your fault, and I donʼt ever want you to say it again. Do you understand?”

“If I hadnʼt returned―”