Deadly Dozen: 12 Mysteries/Thrillers (304 page)

“Got a reputation for being a pretty ruthless bastard. Fancies himself as some kind of private detective like his character. Travels around to small towns looking for secrets. Digs around until he finds a good story. Rumor has it he’s destroyed a lot of lives.”

Sarah frowned. “What does that have to do with us?”

“He just made a reservation at The Lodge. Be here two weeks from today.”

Sarah felt the blood drain from her face. She forgot about Johanna, forgot the burn on her hand, and the need to talk to Doc Hawthorne. The dying words of a tortured soul seemed to echo in the room.

He’s coming, Sarah. He wants to destroy you
.

CHAPTER FIVE

Gavin hated hospitals. The smell of sickness and death permeated the air around him. The sooner he got this over with, the better off he’d be.

He’d had to fight Carl about telling the chief about the postcard, but at least he’d agreed that they shouldn’t tell Rob. Somehow the two of them would have to manage the investigation without Rob’s getting involved. All Gavin needed was a little time.

Stopping at the desk, he waited for the frizzy haired receptionist to acknowledge his presence. She ignored him as she continued her animated conversation. “Well, you know and I know it was Marcus. Why, everyone knows the baby belongs to him.”

Gavin cleared his throat and she glanced up, her eyes showing her impatience. “Hold on a minute.” She placed the caller on hold. “Can I help you?”

“Rob Walker, admitted last night.”

Punching a couple of keys on the computer, she glanced at the screen.

“Psychiatric ward, Room 403.”

Gavin didn’t bother thanking her. She probably wouldn’t have heard him anyway. She’d already gone back to discussing the mysterious Marcus and whatever he’d done that had her hormones raging.

Walking slowly down the quiet hall, he checked the numbers on the closed doors until he came to 403. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door. Bile rose in his throat at the sickly sweet smell of fresh flowers. The room was full of baskets, all bearing cards of “Get Well Soon.” Idiots. The world was full of idiots.

Guilt washed over Gavin as he noted Carl sitting next to the bed, a book across his lap. It was apparent the old man had been here all night. Gavin’s head ached from too much brandy, too much pain. “I should have been the one here,” he cursed himself silently.

Carl nodded his head toward the hallway, and Gavin followed him outside.

“They’ve got him pretty drugged up, but I think he can hear you,” Carl whispered. “God, I need a cigarette.”

“Get some rest. I’ll stay here with him for a while.”

Carl shook his head, shoulders slumped in resignation. “We’re gonna lose him, Gavin, if he don’t snap out of this. Keeps thinking he’s seeing Cory. Talking to her.”

Gavin didn’t know how to respond. Twenty-four hours ago he would have thought Rob was hallucinating. Chances were, Rob really was seeing her.

“I’ll be back,” Carl mumbled, reaching for his cigarettes as he headed for the nearest exit.

Gavin opened the door, taking the seat Carl had vacated. Rob’s face was pale, haunted. Gavin felt a strange new tenderness for his brother wash over him. The drugs had helped, but there wasn’t any drug that would take away the pain completely. Rob would have to come to terms with it eventually.

Something seemed to be filling the hollowness the tears had created inside him. He took Rob’s hand, emotions choking him. Rob had always looked up to him. Even though they were almost the same age, Gavin had always been the big brother. He’d already lost Cory. Seeing Rob now, lying here more dead than alive, was almost more than Gavin could bear.

“Rob?”

Rob turned toward the voice, blue eyes empty. “Gavin? I lost her. Lost my love, my lady, my life.”

Gavin swallowed hard, fighting the wetness behind his lashes.

“She’s gone, Rob. But you’re not. Neither am I. We have to go on. We have to find out who did this. Cory would want us to do that.”

Rob closed his eyes. “Don’t want to. Can’t live without her. Want to die. Help me, Gavin. Help me die.”

Unable to answer, Gavin sat holding the limp hand until the drugs took over and Rob slept again. He fought the emotions still churning inside him, tears flowing down his own face. Something inside had cracked. What the hell was happening to him?

Gavin, you have to hurry. Please protect her
.

Cory was standing beside the bed.

“Who, Cory? Who am I supposed to protect?”

Gavin wasn’t shocked at her presence this time. Somehow he’d known she would be here close to Rob. She smiled at him before looking wistfully at the sleeping figure.
You’ll know
. Once again she gradually faded away.

Carl picked that moment to open the door, poking his head inside. “Thought I heard a woman’s voice in here.”

Gavin let go of the hand he’d been holding, gently placed it on the bed, and stood up. “No, he’s sleeping.”

“I’ll stay with him.” Carl flopped into the seat, reaching for his book.

Gavin nodded, hesitating as he reached the door. He had packing to do. Cory’s funeral to plan. He wanted to talk to Rob. Really talk to him. Explore the strange feelings he kept having. Find out if Rob felt the same ache deep inside his heart. There just wasn’t enough time.

“Sleep well, little brother,” he whispered as he quietly closed the door.

#

Gavin shook hands with the last of the visitors. The ceremony had been small, but Cory would have liked that. He’d worried about the press at first; afraid they would play up her funeral. For once, they’d shown some small measure of sensitivity, allowing the family to grieve together without prying eyes. Perhaps it was because Cory was one of their own.

Closing the door, Gavin allowed his thoughts to turn to Rob. The last week and a half had passed so quickly he’d had little chance to think about anything except taking care of what had to be taken care of. Thanks to Chief Walsh, the autopsy had been done immediately, and Gavin had made the funeral arrangements as soon as they released the body. There was something healing about laying your loved ones to rest.

Gavin frowned. Unfortunately, it hadn’t had that effect on Rob. He’d smelled the alcohol on Rob’s breath at the funeral home. And Rob hadn’t even bothered to show up at the apartment afterward. Gavin had been left to mumble assurances and accept condolences from Rob and Cory’s friends. Rob was sinking fast, and there was nothing he could do to help him. Except maybe catch Cory’s killer. Maybe then Rob would be all right.

Carl was sitting in the living room, drink in hand, cigarette burning in the ashtray. “Stay as long as you want, Carl. I’ve got some packing to do.”

He wasn’t surprised to find the older man still sitting there a half hour later.

“Christ, Gavin, you can’t go out there alone. And what am I supposed to tell the chief? Have you thought about that?”

Gavin set down the suitcase and turned to Carl. He knew what the old man was feeling. Rob had turned to the bottle, wanting to die, and Gavin was about to set out on a course that could lead to his own death. For the past five years, they’d been the only family Carl had.

“I’ll be okay, Carl. You know Jacody Ives always lands on his feet.” He grinned, making light of the situation. Carl wasn’t buying it.

“You’re fucking crazy. This son-of-a-bitch is like a ghost. What if Cory was right? What if there is a connection? What then?”

Gavin watched Carl light another cigarette, two already burning in the ashtray. The image of Cory’s battered body filled his mind. “Ghost or man, I’ll find him. And when I do, I’m going to send the evil bastard straight to hell.”

“Going with you,” Carl stated, taking a long drag on the cigarette before placing it in the ashtray with the other two. “Got a bad feeling about this.”

Cory’s death had opened up something inside of Gavin. Something strange, and yet in some small way, something wonderful. Surprised, he found himself crossing the room and placing his arms around the old man.

“I have to go, Carl. You have to stay here and take care of Rob for me. Can you do that?” He pulled away, looking into the huge brown eyes, over-bright with unshed tears, unspoken emotion.

Carl broke their gaze first, muttering in a choked voice, “You damn kids will be the death of me.” Hands shaking, he started to light another cigarette just as he noticed the three burning in the overflowing ashtray. “See, what I mean? You’re killing me.”

Hugging Carl again, Gavin laughed. “If you actually smoked them, those things would kill you.”

“Yeah, maybe I should quit,” Carl muttered as he stubbed out the three cigarettes. “Somebody’s gotta take care of you two.”

Gavin picked up the suitcase. He had to leave. “You’ll take care of him?”

Carl nodded.

“I’ll call you when I get settled in.”

“You call me every day, you hear me? Don’t you go getting yourself killed either.”

Gavin smiled, but knew it was weak. Carl was the closest thing he and Rob had to a father. He was beginning to understand just how much the old man loved them both.

He stopped at the doorway and looked around the apartment. Somehow he knew he wouldn’t be coming back here. Carl knew it, too. Gavin smiled again and raised a hand in silent good-bye.

“I’ll take care of him.” The old man’s face was wet, his voice choked with emotion. Gavin hesitated only a second. He had to go.

“I know you will.” The crack inside him widened as emotions he’d never felt before, never allowed himself to feel, washed over him. “I don’t think I ever said it before, Carl, but I love you.”

He wasn’t quite sure, it could have been just his imagination, but he thought he heard the whispered words as he closed the door behind him: “I love you, too, you dumb son-of-a-bitch.”

CHAPTER SIX

Joshua Cross looked up as the young woman entered the sheriff’s office. She didn’t look like a local. Something about her demeanor struck a chord inside him. The shadows in her eyes, the way she held her arms across her body as if protecting herself from unseen blows.

“Can I help you?”

Her smile was stiff, and Joshua noted how she continued to look down, refusing to meet his eyes. “I was hoping maybe I could talk to the sheriff. Ms. Crawford told me she might need someone here to answer the phones or something.”

Definitely not a local. No one around here would dare address Millie as Ms. Crawford.

“Sheriff’s out right now.”

“Oh.” She reached for the door, disappointment etched on her face. “Thank you.”

“Hey, wait a minute.” Coming around the counter, Joshua grinned at her. “Can you make coffee?”

She nodded.

“You’re hired.”

“Just like that?”

“Biggest job around here. And the most important.” He stuck out his hand. “Joshua Cross, chief deputy and sheriff’s whipping post.”

She shook his hand tentatively. “Ella Mae Thomas.” She frowned. “Is she hard to work for?”

“Not if you make a good cup of coffee. In fact, you can start right now.”

Joshua chewed on his toothpick, watching as Ella Mae went about the office, clearing away the dirty cups and washing the pot, not once, but three times. Sarah would probably be mad as hell, but he’d pay her out of his own pocket if he had to. Looking out the front window, he cursed softly as he saw Sarah parking. He’d hoped for more time.

Joshua had the decency to look slightly guilty as he made the introductions. Hiring was Sarah’s job, but hell, the girl looked as if she could use some good news. And she had those huge puppy dog eyes—wary, like she was unsure if the hand reaching toward her was going to pet her or hit her.

Sarah glanced at the young woman, noting the drab dress and scuffed shoes as Joshua made introductions. Sarah also noticed the way she kept looking down, never quite meeting Sarah’s eyes as she talked. She’d seen that look on women before. There was usually a mean son-of-a-bitch at home. Sarah met Joshua’s pleading gaze over the young woman’s head and smiled, sticking out her hand.

“Welcome aboard. How about a pot of coffee? Joshua, can I see you for a minute?”