Dreamscape (32 page)

“Another story, another riddle.”

“A riddle she could help solve, if she wanted to,” Jackson said pointedly. “We’re in the middle of this, and she turns a blind eye to us. Hindering our investigation. How much simpler it could have been if she was up front with us. No, she won’t tell us anything. Look where we’re at. Callie’s in a coma, DeNair’s running loose, and she’s disappeared. What’s she hoping to accomplish? Get herself killed.”

“You know, Jackson. You’re a goddamn arrogant son of a bitch. Did you ever think she’s afraid of getting someone else killed? You have no fucking idea what she’s gone through. Don’t even try. She has her daughter to think about. She lost her husband. She has no family of her own. Her parents were killed when she was—”

“Wait, wait,” Jackson broke in. “See, this is what I’m talking about. We haven’t seen what’s right in front of us. A reoccurring theme. Our parents—we’ve lost them all. I should have seen it sooner.”

“What in the world are you talking about?”

“Something Callie was trying to put together. A file of when my mother was killed. It’s too much of a coincidence. It has to be connected.”

“You’ve totally lost me here.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” Jackson said, waving his hand slightly. “You mentioned your father said something about a chief. You’re not an Indian or part, are you? I know you don’t look Irish, but I thought you had Italian in you.”

“I’m not sure, to be honest. I don’t think it was something he went around proclaiming, but I do remember a tattoo he had, some kind of bird.”

“A hawk?”

“I don’t know, Jackson. I was a kid. It was on his shoulder,” Thorpe said. He patted his right shoulder, remembering which side.

“It has to be, Thorpe. I don’t believe in coincidences, remember. Our connection—it’s in the file Callie gave me. The one that describes a killing field, where my mother died, probably your dad, and if I’m right, Ramona’s parents. In some manner they’re protecting us. That’s why Callie was in danger. Why the demon was after her to investigate my life. They’re searching the long way around. It shielded us.”

“Maybe, maybe,” Thorpe agreed as he made another turn passing an exit sign, Exit 12, Marshfield. “Ramona said something about that. How Leila was protected. She didn’t have to worry about her.”

Thorpe pressed on as fast as the car would take him. He knew where he had to go. He prayed they weren’t going to be too late.

* * * *

A looming storm threatened on the horizon. Henry DeNair reveled in the thought. He had moments before he set the timer to go off to disable the main generator outlet of power for this side of Marshfield. He didn’t want any red flags going off when he cut the wires. His confidence returned, growing in the misty darkness. All his frustrations over the last few nights came to a boil.

He coolly strolled to the sliding door on the patio on the precaution that someone might be watching the front for Ramona’s return. He pulled a black, sharp-edged tool out of his back pocket and sketched around the glass handle. Turning the tool to the blunt end, he slammed it against the glass. It plopped to the ground. He walked in. Glanced down at his watch. Ten-thirty. A smile formed. He had all night to enact his pleasure on his nemesis.

His eyes adjusted to the darkness as he walked into the kitchen. He could already taste her warm blood spurting out of her body, imagined watching her eyes as he strangled the life out of her. There would be no mercy.

The wind howled outside, and tree branches scratched the window. The power failure gave way to the furniture occupying the room giving off its own glow. Silhouettes. From the ceilings to the floors, he carefully surveyed the rooms: living room, dining room, foyer. No human figures here. With his left hand, he felt for the railing to make his way to the bedrooms.

The door creaked as he inched his way into Ramona’s bedroom. He pulled a long, sharp blade from his pocket, and his heart raced. He jerked the covers back. No Ramona. Anguished, he looked under the bed, in the closet, the bathroom. He raced into the daughter’s room, following the same pattern. And found no one.

HIDING, YOU FOOL. SHE WOULD HIDE IN AN ATTEMPT TO PROTECT HERSELF. THE BASEMENT! the voice roared, impatience ringing out.

Henry pounded down the stairs, the caution he’d used only moments before forgotten. He twisted his ankle on the last step and fell against the tiled foyer floor. He raised himself and looked up against the darkness. Easing closer, he made out her profile. She sat on one of the steps at the top. The silence lengthened. A light shone in his eyes. He recoiled against the wall, momentarily at a loss. Perspiration broke out on his face. A rustling echoed in the darkness. Confused, dazed, he froze. Through the blinding light he heard a voice.

“Henry DeNair. I understand you’re looking for me.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Henry DeNair couldn’t find his voice. The woman who had thwarted his every move sat at the top of the stairs calmly shining a flashlight in his eyes. No fear—fear he’d instilled in his victims—could be detected in her voice or manner. He squinted. His mind raced. She’d been waiting for him. He had to make a move.

“Relax, Henry,” Ramona said as if reading his mind. “We have time to talk, don’t we? Do you have anywhere else to go? That’s right, you don’t. Not even back to your haven in Jamestown. Yes, Henry, I know. And if I know, you realize, don’t you, that I made sure the FBI knows.” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Just curious…didn’t it occur to you that I might know what you were up to? That’s right. You’re listening to your little voice. Do you think he’s watching over you now? Do you not have a clue that he already knows you’re a lost cause? He’s going to jump and leave you to pay for your deeds alone. He wanted you to perform one last deed for him because he knows what a danger I am. He’s using you to try and get at me.”

She stood up, moving down one more step. “Didn’t it hit you why you wanted me dead? Did I not stop your rampages? Why didn’t it occur to you? Blinded, one might say, by your arrogance. Do you want to know what I’ve been doing, Henry, these last few days? I’ve seen into your mind as if reviewing a room through an open door. Does Surmoas feel it now? He failed. He told you he’d stopped me. I was vulnerable. Yet I have never been stronger, Henry. Can you feel him inside you? He knows, doesn’t he?”

Henry couldn’t move. His head burned. His legs weakened, wiggled like jelly. He bent over grabbing hold of his legs, trying to will himself to stand. He wanted to shut her up. She wouldn’t stop talking.

“Poor little Henry. I’ve seen into your mind. How sad to have been treated in the way your mother treated you. The torture, the pain. A mother is supposed to love and protect her child, not burn his hands, put out cigarettes on his skin, not sell her little boy for sex.”

“Shut up, you bitch. Shut up,” Henry screamed. He crawled to the edge of the stairs. “Shut up or I’ll shut you up.”

“Temper, temper, Henry,” Ramona reprimanded. “It was a sad tale, but your uncle loved you. He tried to make amends. He gave you all, and in return you took away what meant the most to him. You didn’t even blink an eye killing your cousins. They’d never done anything to you either, had they, Henry? They just stood in your way. The only one that ever truly cared about you and you destroyed him.”

LET HER TALK. EDGE UP ON HER.

A wave of intense hatred swept through him.

“Power. It gave you power. The joke was that you could murder and no one suspected. You made a game of it.” Ramona wouldn’t stop. “With every kill, your confidence and self-power grew. An illusion that you were all powerful. When you strangled the life out of one of your victims, the thrill of plunging a knife into a young girl, watching the life sucked out, gave you that feeling. But it never lasted, did it? You have to keep doing it because it never lasts nor will it ever.”

Ramona lowered the light from his eyes. He made out her face. His gaze met hers. She dressed simply in aged gray sweats, her hair braided, pulled back out of her face. Her manner eased, relaxed, calmed.

“Do you believe in a God, Henry? Do you believe in an eternity?” she asked simply. She took another step closer to him and looked directly into his eyes. “I want you to understand if you can comprehend my words, Henry. On one of my visions, I watched in horror as a child lost her life, buried deep in a cellar. An innocent…so innocent. Yet after those horrible scenes that played before my eyes, watching a small child be torn away from a promising life, I felt her. The feeling is hard to describe. She’d found a peace, a serenity, if you will. All she wanted was for her mother to find acceptance, for they will meet again.” Ramona paused. Remembering the child? She kept her gaze locked on his eyes. She bit her bottom lip, contemplating her next words.

“Your crimes have been heartless, unfeeling by a man who cared nothing except for his own twisted needs. Blames his warped behavior on our behavior, society, not taking any responsibility, and it is yours to take. There are always consequences, Henry, even if it’s not in this world. You can’t believe that life ends when you bury someone. Believe that everyone has a purpose no matter how long or short that is. Believe that there will come a time when everyone will have to be held accountable.”

Henry touched his sharp knife, ready in his belt. He had long since shut out what she said. He plotted. He gripped the handle of the knife. He assumed she had a gun. He’d have to be quick.

“It’s hard to comprehend that there’s a purpose to losing a child, a loved one. In the end there can be no total understanding in this life, only acceptance, faith. Faith in seeing our loved ones again. Faith that everyone, Henry, will have their own time to answer.”

Henry staggered to his feet, interrupting Ramona’s speech. “It’s not going to be today, bitch.”

He lunged at her, knife fully in view. His heart pumped wildly as he waited for a response. He didn’t see a weapon, and his fear subsided. “You’re crazier than I first thought, lady. You don’t even have a damn weapon.”

He grinned. His free hand gripped hold of the railing, and he pulled himself up to his full height. Slowly, so she could see his every move, he built on her fear. Her eyes challenged him. His breathing quickened as anger flamed within. All clear thoughts vacated his mind, all except cutting that look off her face. He edged nearer.

KILL HER. KILL HER. KILL HER NOW!

Henry pounced, but before he could plunge the knife in her, hands pressed against him. He froze in time. The only sound he heard came from within him, an earth shattering scream that emanated out of his mouth. He stood paralyzed. Excruciating pain surged through his body. He lost his footing and fell hard against the floor. His eyes, he could move, the only part of his body he could control. He searched desperately for the woman. The pounding in his head grew. He couldn’t stand the pain. He wanted to scream, but no sound came. He closed his eyes, submitting to the darkness.

* * * *

Thorpe didn’t waste time knocking. He tried the knob first. Locked. He kicked the door in. He heard a scream. Jackson followed right behind him. The sound echoed down in the basement. He rounded the corner. A thud sounded. His eyes adjusted to the shadows. He pounded down the stairs, saw the outline of a man’s body. He grabbed the flashlight shining at the foot of the steps and quickly surveyed the room.

DeNair lay before him, motionless. A knife rested to his side. The beam of the flashlight reflected off the blade. Jackson bent over DeNair and felt for a pulse. Jackson looked up.

* * * *

Ramona fell back hard against a wall. Her head seeped blood from the blow. She slowly staggered to her feet with only moments to decide her next move. She breathed deeply, listening to the voice within that she’d so long ago ignored. A price would have to be paid for her contravention. She realized that now without question. She’d prepared, would complete her task and accept her fate.

Ramona rambled through the clutter, the clutter of a dying man’s thoughts. She had to get to the opening, had to follow Surmoas to vanquish the demon at his source. Dr. Lewis had sacrificed his life for this link. Her legs trembled. She’d never been so frightened. No, I was frightened once before. Another time, but I had no choice but to once more return to the forbidden place.

She ducked down under flying objects. The time drawing to a close, she glanced around, searching desperately. From the corner of her eye she saw him. He had readied, looked confident in his ability. Her thoughts turned quickly to whether she had moved close enough. She had to be. She raised her free hand sending a flash across the space.

A roar exploded, shaking the foundations, but she didn’t waver.

“You fool. You’ll kill us both. Go back, live. You have your daughter. Who will look after her? She’ll have no one. Let go. We have time. I will tell you all. I know of one who is searching for you.”

Ramona sadly shook her head. “No, today, Surmoas, is the end of your reign. I’m sending you back to the underworld. Back to your master.”

The time was close. Heat exuded around her. Surmoas retreated. She wanted him to. He had to. She couldn’t get to where she had to without him. A force hit her, spiraling her backwards. She crawled on her knees. A portal opened.

Wind swirled. Colors surfaced: yellow, orange, red flames. Surmoas stood in a stream laughing. His eyes burned at her. “It’s a shame for you to go out like this. The once great Dream Walker. Now who will protect your child after you’re gone? He will go after her. You have no one to blame but yourself. I gave you your chance.”