Forgotten (Shattered Sisters Book 2) (29 page)

She groaned deep in her throat and realized this was going to hurt for a long, long time. Then she stilled as grim laughter filled her mind. Not her own. Nothing this evil could come from her.

The Slasher.

The maniac prowled somewhere out there tonight, enveloped in darkness, sheltered by the storm itself.

Her vision! God, how could she have left Ash alone when she knew he could be next? What if it was too late?

What if that blade had already ripped across the tight skin of his throat? She ran to the phone, yanked up the receiver. She would call, just to make sure he was okay. Then she would get back to him. She'd...

No dial tone. The phone is dead.

Okay. It doesn't mean anything. Think! Think of the vision. Try and see the area around Ash, when he's lying on the floor. Could it be Caroline's house? Could that be where it happens?

She strained to conjure the vision in her mind, but instead of Ash's body on the floor, she saw Caroline's. She lay facedown, on a brown sculpted carpet. It could have been the carpet in Joey's own living room. Her long, multicolored waves were loose and spread over her back. The ends had soaked some of the blood from the back of the oversized gray T-shirt and—

Joey went perfectly still and her heart seemed to trip to a stop in her chest. The T-shirt in the vision... She glanced down at herself. It was the one she was wearing right now. Again she sought details in the image she'd foreseen. It could be her, not Caroline at all. Their hair was alike. She'd only assumed she saw her sister in the vision because of the signature clothing the woman on the floor wore. But the face hadn't been visible. And Joey was wearing those exact clothes right now.

And the phone was dead.

Her heart began functioning again, hammering so hard against her ribs that her body shook with the percussions. She had to get to Ash. The killer would hit him before her. She was certain of that. And she might already be too late.

She turned toward the door. Thunder rattled the windows and lightning flashed for an instant. A dark silhouette was framed beyond the curtains of the sliding-glass door. Not Ash, and not a woman. A man.

The Slasher was here already. Finished with Ash. It was Joey's turn now.

"God, please, no," she whispered, limping slowly on trembling legs toward the stairs. "Please don't let Ash be dead. Please." Maybe he was still alive. Maybe, if she could get help to him in time, he could survive. He'd been lying still in the vision, but that didn't have to mean he was dead. It didn't...it couldn't.

She found the stairs and climbed them. She walked softly, trying not to make even the tiniest sound, into her bedroom, to the nightstand. Carefully she opened the drawer, pulled out the gun.

She extracted the clip, made sure it held all the bullets it could hold, then slipped it inside again.

Glass shattered downstairs. She clapped a hand to her mouth to keep from screaming and tiptoed fast to the bedroom door, closing it and turning the lock. She retreated to the far side of the room and huddled in the corner, gun ready.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Heavy ones. Then they sounded in the hall. They stopped.

Joey trembled from head to toe as she waited for the knob to jiggle, or for the door to splinter beneath a heavy blow. But nothing came.

She waited longer, and still nothing. Not a sound, or a step, or anything at all. What was happening? Maybe the killer had given up, or left to search somewhere else. She had to find a way to get to Ash. She couldn't huddle in this corner all night while he might be bleeding to death at her sister's house. She had to help him.

Slowly, silently, she crept back to the bedroom door, the gun held in a two-fisted, white-knuckled grip. She moved closer and closer, straining to hear a sound or movement. She opened her mind and tried to home in on the evil presence that had invaded her home, her very being. But she found nothing there. She bent low, pressing her ear to the door.

It smashed open suddenly, cracking the side of her head and sending her sprawling. The gun skittered across the floor and under the bed. The door hit the wall behind it. Joey shook her head to clear it and scrambled to her feet.

The Slasher stood in the doorway, soaked in rain. There was a thin layer of dark, curling hair on muscled arms that ended in fine black gloves of kid leather, with those two tiny buttons she knew so well. And clutched in one of those gloved hands was the double-edged dagger, its jeweled handle glinting in the dim room. The face was one she recognized, but still it took a moment to sink in.

Radley Ketchum.

Ash fought his way to consciousness, a single, blood-chilling phrase ringing over and over again in his mind. "Where is the little woman?" Rad had asked.

Ash had turned to grab his still-wet jacket. “Her place. And I’m glad you’re here, cause I could use a ride.”

That was it. One large blow to the back of his head, and he’d gone down in a heap. He had no idea how long he’d been out. But he knew Rad had hit him.

Joey. Rad was after Joey, and he'd blurted out where she was. Home. Alone.

God, he couldn't believe it was Rad. Ash struggled to roll over, then pulled himself into a sitting position. His head was screaming. He was dizzy. He reached for the phone on the nightstand and brought it to his ear, dialing quickly. He asked the cop who answered at the station to put him through to Beverly, then waited until he heard her voice.

"Bev...it's Ash."

"You don't sound too good. Been drinking?"

His voice was slurred, but not from alcohol. "The Slasher...it's Radley."

Silence.

"You hear me? It's Radley.”

“No. it’s not.”

“Then why did he just bash me over the head and take off?”

“He what?”

“He's on his way to Joey's house right now, and she's there alone. Get out there. Hurry."

He slammed the phone down as she began shouting questions. Then he picked it up again and punched Joey's number. It rang endlessly, but no one answered.

His heart was rapidly turning into a lump of stone in his chest. Either she'd changed her mind and was on her way back, or the storm had knocked the phones out...or he was too late.

He got to his feet, still unsteady, staggered down the stairs and out into the rain. The car was gone, but in front of the shop beside the house, Ted's pickup sat. Ash loped crookedly to it, yanking open the door.

No keys.

Panic was trying to set in, but Ash fought it. He had to get to Joey. He ran to the shop's door, peered through the glass. Yes. The little key rack had one set dangling from it. Ash smashed the door in with his shoulder, grabbed the pickup key, and took off.

"Why?" Her entire body quaked in fear as she saw the solemn determination in Rad Ketchum's eyes. "God, Radley, why?"

"I have to protect her." He spoke softly, almost kindly. "I’m sorry, Joey. I like you, I really do. And Ash...Dammit, I didn’t want to hurt him.”

"But you did, didn't you? Did you kill him? Is Ash dead?" The backs of her legs hit the bed, and she began edging sideways, toward its foot.

“Amelia is sick. She’s so sick. It’s not her fault.”

She didn't want to hear it. All she wanted to hear right now was that Ash wasn't dead, or dying. But she had to buy time, keep him from killing her until she could get away from him. “Ash said it was cancer. I’m really sorry Radley.”

"Not cancer,” he said. “That’s what I told people to explain it away when she would act so....” He shook his head as if shaking away a memory. “Freaking quack psychiatrist said she was a psychopath. Dangerous. Wanted to lock her away. I couldn’t let that happen.” He glanced at the dagger in his hand and seemed to remember his mission. He focused on Joey again. "I can take care of her. I was doing fine until she realized I was drugging her to keep her calm. Docile. Bedridden, really, but it was better than letting her keep hunting. She fooled me though. Stopped taking the pills, got out of the house.”

“And committed more murders,” she said softly.

“I just have to watch her better, that’s all. I just have to watch her better."

She said, “Amelia’s the Slasher.”

He closed his eyes, shook his head. “She can’t help it. She doesn’t even know she does it, she just...hell, you just don’t understand."

She shook her head rapidly. "I'm trying. Really I am."

She’d edged around the bed, and was almost to the bathroom door now. Distract him, she thought. Distract him and then run.

“She feels you inside her head,” he said. “She told me so. She wanted to kill you, but I wouldn’t let her. I really didn’t want it to come to this. I was gonna frame Bev Issacs for the murders. Put an end to all of this. But Amelia was right. You’re too close. You’re gonna figure it out and then they’ll take her away from me. I can’t live without her. I can’t.”

He was looking at her, violence coming to life in his eyes.

"W-Why do you think she does it, Radley?" Anything to buy some time, she thought. She’d come up with something. She’d find a way out of this.

“She was a ward of the state as a little girl. Terribly abused by a foster parent. I think he’s the one she really wants to...hurt.”

Joey nodded as if she understood. “But...there was a female victim. In Vegas....”

“That wasn’t Amelia,” he said. “But she saw Amelia. I couldn’t let her tell the police.”

Chills raced up Joey’s spine and over her nape. So he’d killed too. All to protect his beloved wife. Joey’s hand inched toward the door that led to the bathroom. Rad took another step toward her. His gaze caught the movement of her hand and he lashed out with the blade. She shoved the door open and ducked through it, slamming it behind her just in time. Then she sprinted across the bathroom, through its other door into the hall and down the stairs. She ran straight through the living room to the sliding-glass doors, shaking hard, her thigh screaming, her blood pounding in her temples, the echo of her pulse deafening in her ears. She bent low and tore the broom handle out of the track, then flicked the lock up, grasping the handle to pull the door open.

Radley grabbed her from behind and spun her around so hard her head snapped back as if her neck were made of rubber. One hand caught her hair cruelly, tipping her head to expose her neck. The other lifted, clutching the dagger.

She brought her knee up for all she was worth, heard the forced expulsion of air from his lungs when it connected, and then the thud of the dagger falling to the carpet. He doubled over. She dropped to her knees, her eyes never leaving Radley as she patted the carpet in search of the knife. Then her hand closed on its cool handle.

Touching the weapon caused myriad faces to appear in her mind, and an instant later she realized they were the faces of the Amelia’s victims. Innocent, frightened faces. She reached behind her for the door. Rad straightened and took a step toward her. She swung the blade in a wide arc, felt it drag across his chest.

Radley gasped and dropped to his knees in front of her, blood spreading over the front of his shirt. But he was still conscious, and she couldn't turn her back to try to make it through the door. She darted past him, running for the kitchen and those stairs, hoping to make it to the back door. But before she even reached the kitchen, she felt his arms come around her from behind in a brutal bear hug. He tackled her, knocking her to the carpet, squeezing the breath from her body, crushing her ribs, his weight adding to the burn in her thigh. She felt the half healed wound tear open, felt it bleed.

He came down on top of her back, and she could feel the warmth of his blood soaking into her shirt. She swung backward with the dagger, her arm twisted so awkwardly it was painful. The blade sank into his side, and when he jerked instinctively away from the pain, she wrenched herself out from beneath him, scrambling to her feet.

Horror like nothing she'd ever known surrounded her, pummeling her senses, and hysteria tried to take over. She fought it, taking a step back, waiting for a chance. Her stomach lurched as he made it up to his knees, reached down and jerked the blood-slick dagger from his side. He looked down at the blade, then his eyes rolled and he fell forward.