Authors: Rita Herron
If the doctors had conducted experiments on Amelia, could the narcotics they’d given her have had an adverse effect? Had they caused her erratic behavior? Her memory losses?
What if an experimental drug triggered the voices in her head, instead of quieting them?
Trembling with the possibility, Sadie carried the pills to the studio and put them in her purse. She had to talk to someone about them.
Dr. Tynsdale had treated Amelia in the sanitarium. He had prescribed the drugs.
And she’d trusted him because her grandfather had.
Horror struck her. Had he been involved in the experiments? If so, he could have kept Amelia drugged all these years to prevent her from remembering what had happened.
She had to call Jake and tell him.
Only she couldn’t turn to Jake for help now...
Suddenly something moved behind her. The floor creaked.
Then someone grabbed her from behind, stuffed a rag into her mouth, and the world faded into gray.
J
ake and Nick drove back to the sheriff’s office in silence.
“I’m going to make some calls and follow up with the crime unit.”
Nick gave a clipped nod. “I have to check in, too. Let’s meet back in a few minutes.”
Jake agreed, and Nick left the office. As he watched his brother heading toward the diner, Jake called the number for the investigator who’d worked the fire at the Nettleton house.
“What did you find?” he asked without preamble.
“The fire originated in the living room, and gasoline was used as the accelerant.”
“Anything else?” Jake asked.
“We found a button in the ashes, a man’s. Looks like it came from a man’s shirt. Maybe a military uniform.”
What did it mean? That whoever had set the fire had been wearing a uniform?
“Make sure it’s logged in to evidence,” Jake said.
“Will do.”
Jake disconnected, then analyzed the notes on his whiteboard. The judge’s question about the murder weapon bothered
him. Dammit, if they had his father’s body, they could remove the bullet and see if it matched the shotgun Amelia had used to shoot Walt Nettleton.
He knew one way to find out. He’d ask Sadie.
Would she tell him the truth? Hell, what did he have to lose?
Besides, the fire had been arson, which meant that someone had tried to kill Sadie. Someone who had seen Sadie and Amelia and her grandfather bury his father.
Even if Sadie had betrayed him, he didn’t want to see her dead. Besides, Amelia was bound to come back to the farm sometime.
He had to find her and the person who’d attacked Sadie and put this case to rest. Find out if anyone else knew about those damned experiments.
He snagged his keys and jogged to his car. Traffic was thin, an occasional pair of headlights dotting the mountain road as he wound around the curve toward Sadie’s place. More storm clouds threatened, the temperature dropping, the air filled with the possibility of snow.
The ashes and charred furniture that marked what was left of the house looked grim in his headlights as he pulled to a stop. He glanced at the guesthouse and noticed a light on, so he assumed Sadie was still awake.
Memories of their earlier lovemaking rose to taunt him, but he forced them away. He couldn’t go back there, not now that he knew Sadie had betrayed him.
Nerves on edge, he parked, climbed out, and approached the studio. He hoped to hell she’d heard from her sister. He wanted this case solved so Sadie could go back to San Francisco, and he could forget her.
Wind whipped leaves around his feet as he walked up to the door and knocked. He waited several seconds, but there was no answer, so he knocked again. A dog barked somewhere in the distance, and night creatures skittered through the woods nearby, but there was only silence inside.
“Sadie?” He knocked harder, then pushed at the door, surprised when it swung open. A bad feeling tightened his gut, and he poked his head in.
“Sadie, it’s Jake.”
Silence. He inched inside the studio. The lamp was overturned, and several pill bottles were scattered across the floor beside Sadie’s purse.
It looked as if there had been a struggle.
Cold fear knotted his insides.
Dammit, had someone kidnapped Sadie?
Sadie’s head throbbed as she regained consciousness. She blinked, struggling to focus, but the room was dark, gray, cold.
A wave of nausea rolled through her, and she closed her eyes, swallowing back bile. Footsteps clattered.
The sound of metal clinked.
Ting. Ting. Ting.
The chimes began to sing.
She opened her eyes wide, terrified. Amelia had talked about the chimes before. About the sound they made.
Sadie had thought they were all in her head.
Had they been real? Or was she going crazy like her sister?
She tried to sit up, but her limbs were too heavy. Weighted down.
No, she was bound.
Terror gripped her. Where was she?
Who had brought her here?
Ting. Ting. Ting
.
The footsteps shuffled again. Something metal clinked. A rolling cart?
Was she in a hospital?
She tried to think back, to remember. She’d been in jail, then Chad had convinced the judge to let her go. He had driven her home.
Jake...Jake had been in the court, but he’d looked straight through her as if she were too despicable to acknowledge. Pain throbbed in her chest, the nausea returning.
Then she heard the clock echoing in the room.
Ticktock. Ticktock. Ticktock
.
Over and over, incessantly it ticked, the sound growing louder with each second.
The footsteps shuffling. Coming closer. The rolling cart...
Clang, clang, clang
.
A chill swept over her, a fog engulfing her brain. But flashes of memory, of being in the studio, seeped through the haze. She had looked at Amelia’s medications...
Something was wrong with them...too many pills. Some she didn’t recognize...the combination could be dangerous.
Ting. Ting. Ting
.
Suddenly a bright light shone in her eyes, blinding her. And something sharp jabbed her arm. A needle.
The room swirled. The chimes
tinged
. The clock’s
ticktock
intensified like the ticking of a bomb.
“You should have listened, Sadie,” a gruff voice murmured.
Sadie froze, horror hitting her. The voice...she recognized it...but it couldn’t be. “Who are you?” she whispered.
A low laugh reverberated off the walls, the sound hollow and sinister.
“You know who I am, Sadie. You buried me.”
Sadie gasped for a breath. Lord help her.
Jake’s father was alive.
The light suddenly snapped off, pitching her into darkness. Another jab in her arm, then she felt the slow burn of the medication seeping through her.
“You should have stayed away from my son,” Blackwood said near her ear. “He’s not going to save you now. I’ll bury you alive, just like you did me.”
The room swirled, colors flashing in front of her eyes, then the gray swallowed her. Sounds echoed as if they were far away. The ticking.
The chimes.
The gunshot...
She willed herself to fight the narcotics, but they sucked her into a vortex, and she spun around in a dizzying circle, then plummeted into the cold ground.
Amelia cried out. She was screaming for help.
Sadie raced outside to her, ran to the guesthouse. She must have been having another of her episodes.
No...Jake’s father was there. He had pushed Amelia onto the couch. He had a needle—he was drugging her. Amelia was struggling, fighting, crying for help...
Then she heard his voice. “Sorry, Amelia, but you served your purpose. Now it’s time for you to die.”
Denial robbed Sadie’s breath. Jake’s father was going to kill her sister. But why?
She had to do something. Save Amelia.
Trembling, she ran back to the house and grabbed Papaw’s rifle. Then she hurried back to the guesthouse. When she eased open the door, Amelia was fighting. Blackwood slapped her.
Sadie froze in shock. She had to be seeing things.
This was Jake’s father. He wouldn’t hurt her sister. He ran the hospital that had tried to help her.
But the shiny blade of a knife glinted in the darkness.
“Too bad you took your own life,” Blackwood said. His icy laugh echoed in the silence.
Amelia’s head lolled to the side. Her eyes were glassy, her mouth agape, her coloring a pasty white.
Was she too late?
Blackwood reached for her sister’s arm. He was going to cut her wrist...
She had to stop him.
“Leave her alone!” Sadie cried.
Blackwood swung around and waved the knife at her. His cold gaze met hers, and she realized he was dangerous, maybe even psychotic himself. He would kill Amelia, and then he’d kill her.
Then he stepped toward her. She raised the rifle and fired.
The gunshot blasted. His face paled in shock. Blood splattered.
Then the darkness swept over Sadie...
“We have to bury Blackwood, Sadie,” Papaw’s voice reverberated through the darkness. “We have to protect Amelia. She can’t go to prison. She’ll never survive.”
Only Amelia hadn’t killed Blackwood.
She had.
Amelia rocked herself back and forth in the art studio at the high school. It was the one place she remembered feeling at home. Safe.
Herself.
Memories of painting in this very room beside her sister flashed back. That was one thing she and Sadie had in common.
They both liked to purge their emotions on canvas.
Only her sketches were always disjointed. Sometimes childlike. Bessie, the doctors told her. Then angry and macabre—Skid. Then the sexy nudes that Viola drew.
Other times, soft and full of faded colors but wistful...the hopeful Amelia coming out.
She picked up Sadie’s scarf and sniffed it, recalling the days when they were little and played together. The times they whispered secrets in the dark, talked about boys and teenage crushes and dreamed of marriage.
The times she’d been lucid.
Tonight her head felt clearer. The drugs were wearing off, and she felt...almost normal.
Go back to sleep, Amelia
, Skid mumbled.
I told you, I’d take care of us
.
Don’t leave me
, Bessie whispered.
She’s gonna tell
, Viola cried.
No, she won’t
, Skid barked.
Yes, she is
, Viola said.
She’s getting stronger, and she’ll forget about us
.
I won’t let that happen
, Skid said.
Amelia’s too weak. I’ll kill her before she tells.
Skid wanted her dead...
Just like the Commander.
The memory tormented her, his harsh voice ordering her to lie still, urging her to let the others in.
Ting. Ting. Ting
.
The chimes began to sing.
Time to line up, follow the Commander through the darkness.