Haven (6 page)

“Another ex-military operative.”

Bishop nodded. “They do seem to find us. Or vice versa. In any case, military training means additional survival skills that are likely to come in handy. Especially in this case, since Navarro is in a small town surrounded by the closest thing we have to wilderness.”

“Something else that sounds familiar. I know we often work in cities—such as now—but we do seem to end up in nice little towns surrounded by wilderness and inhabited by a human monster or two an awful lot more often than chance would dictate.”

“True enough.”

Tony brooded for a few moments while his boss returned to studying the evidence board for their current case. Finally, Tony said, “If Maggie sent in Navarro, she must be pretty sure whatever Jessie saw is just the beginning.”

“I’d say so.”

“But the beginning of what? New murders—or the uncovering of old ones?”

“That,” Bishop said, “is what Navarro is there to find out.”

Baron Hollow

“I think I want to go to church today. Do you go to church?” Jessie asked suddenly at breakfast.

“Sometimes. Not every Sunday.”

“
Still the First Baptist?”

“Yeah, like half the town.”

“Good,” Jessie said. “Want to come along today?”

“Why not?”

“Then let’s get ready. If that clock over there is right, preaching starts in about an hour.”

Emma might not know her sister very well as an adult, but it didn’t take sisterly knowledge to look at the closed, almost secretive expression on Jessie’s face and know that she was going to church for a good reason, and it had nothing to do with prayer or singing hymns.

Emma just wished she knew what that reason was.

She was no wiser nearly an hour later, except in her realization that Jessie intended to visibly
be
at church. Not only was she wearing a dress, which had been rare for her back in the day; she was wearing a red dress.

A very red dress.

Emma wasn’t embarrassed or otherwise bothered by the display, just curious. She was even more curious when Jessie led the way to the front of the church, to the “family” pew, and took a seat there. As if she wanted every person in the packed church to know that Jessie Rayburn was back home.

And afterward, during the customary socializing out in the church’s front yard, Jessie asked Emma to reintroduce her to people she had known, or who had known the family when she was a teenager.

Which meant just about everybody, or at least those who lingered to talk.

Emma didn’t know what her sister was up to, but she had a strong feeling that she wasn’t the only one who viewed Jessie’s calm smile and curiously flat eyes with unease. Worse, she thought Jessie knew exactly the effect she was having on those around her, and that it was very deliberate.

“Jessie, what are you doing?” Emma asked as the sisters walked the short distance back to Rayburn House.

Without denial, Jessie merely said, “Stirring the pot.”

“Okay, but what’s in the pot?”

“The past. And maybe something that carried over into the present.”

“Am I supposed to understand what you’re talking about?”

“No. Not yet.” For the first time, Jessie’s smile held the hint of a real apology. “The less you know, the better, at least for now.”

“That sounds foreboding.” Emma kept her tone light, but she began to feel seriously alarmed.

As they turned onto the walkway to the front door of Rayburn House, Jessie was shaking her head. “Don’t worry. I’m not sure it’s even about me anymore. At least…”

“At least what?”

Seemingly half to herself, Jessie said, “At least maybe I can help stop something that started with me. Even if it wasn’t my fault. Even if I—Never mind, Em.”

“Never mind? Jessie—” But Emma never finished the question, because her sister’s face had closed down again, and if she had learned one thing about this woman her sister had become, it was that she didn’t give away anything she intended to keep to herself.

She didn’t give it away to anyone.

NORMALLY, HE WOULDN’T
have been on the hunt again so soon. He tended to be satisfied and satiated after enjoying himself with his prey, able to go on about his normal life without the dark urges tormenting him. For weeks, usually, even months sometimes when he needed to stretch it out because of the dearth of prey in the winter.

But the last one…The last one had escaped before he had finished with her, and that had left him unsatisfied. He had tracked her, of course, and he had found her—and left her as he found her. She was far, far off the trails in the area, and he didn’t anticipate anyone else finding her.

The scavengers would finish off the remains quickly enough.

He had considered briefly and then discarded the idea of bringing her back to his garden. She didn’t deserve to be there, he decided. She was unworthy of that very precious and beautiful resting place.

She deserved what she’d gotten, sprawled out on the hard, bloody ground for animals and maggots to feed off.

He had been enraged by her escape, but he had learned long ago to channel his anger into something constructive; this time it had been repairing and strengthening his trap so that his prey would never escape him again.

Now, calm once more but highly conscious of the hunger inside him, he began to hunt. Watching the tourists, the hikers, those transients who passed through his town on a regular basis. Noting who was alone or apt to wander away from their group, noting which ones found rooms in town and which preferred to truly rough it in the woods with tents and sleeping bags.

Looking for vulnerabilities.

It was half the fun of the hunt, choosing his next prey.

He didn’t lurk, but came and went casually, making a point not to spend very much time in any one spot. He talked to those he would be expected to talk to, but otherwise kept himself in the background as much as possible, something he was very good at doing.

And watched.

A small voice in the back of his mind warned him to wait, to keep an eye on Jessie Rayburn and find out for certain just why she was back here after so many years, but that voice was drowned out by the dark urges driving him.

He needed to hunt. Now. And if, later on, Jessie proved to be a problem he would need to deal with, well, he knew how to handle her. Nobody would be surprised, after all, if Jessie ran away from Baron Hollow again.

Nobody at all.

1
Blood Ties

2
Hunting Fear

“So, what’s Victor up to these days?” Jessie kept her voice calm and her eyes on her plate. Sunday lunch after church had been a family custom back in the day, usually silent, since their father had had little to say to them. But now it was just Jessie and Emma alone in the family suite dining room, with only Emma’s attentive Sheltie—lying near Emma’s chair and politely not begging—for company.

“Well, he’s as charming as always,” Emma replied dryly, about their older cousin. “To most people. You know I’ve never cared for him; that hasn’t changed. I mostly avoid him, except when he persists in trying to buy land I don’t want to sell. He’s been fairly persistent lately, so things have been even more tense than usual.”
Never did learn to take no for an answer.

Jessie frowned just a bit, trying to shore up her walls so stray thoughts from Emma didn’t keep slipping through.

Unaware, Emma sipped her coffee, adding, “He wants to buy some of your land too, by the way. That piece out by Willow Creek Church; what we both have in the area are parcels that adjoin land he already owns.”

“I’m not interested in my inheritance, Emma. You can have the lot, and you’re welcome to it.”

Emma didn’t look surprised, but shook her head. “Trent Windell is still the family attorney, and he’s looked after your share of what Dad left us. There’s income from the inn, from several rental properties, plus investments, and it’s added up over the years. He and a financial advisor have managed your money as well as they have mine.”
Don’t be an idiot and turn down what belongs to you.

Jessie frowned again.

“Look, if you don’t want the properties, we’ll work something out, but that money is yours. It won’t make you rich, Jessie, but it’s a nice nest egg for retirement, or to buy yourself a house sometime in the future, or whatever. Trent will transfer it to any bank or investment outfit you want to use.”

“You’re the one who stayed here and took care of Dad,” Jessie pointed out, still frowning.

Emma was shaking her head, her expression wry. “He didn’t change after you left, you know; he was perfectly capable of looking after himself, and preferred to. Practicing what he preached to us. We had staff to take care of the house and cook, and Dad occupied himself with the business. He sent me off to camp so I wouldn’t be underfoot in summer. I went away for college, and even after I came back here I traveled every summer to get away, see something of the world. And Dad was healthy right up until that stroke killed him.
So if you’re thinking I deserve more of the inheritance than you do, think again. Dad’s will was fair, Jessie.”

“I’m surprised he thought I’d ever come back.” She wondered if she had been missed at all, but inside she knew the truth, and so she didn’t bother to ask it out loud.

“We both know he wasn’t sentimental. There’s a provision in the will that says if neither you nor any legitimate heirs you might have claim the inheritance within twenty-five years, your share is divided between me and Victor and/or our heirs.”

“Well, I sure as hell don’t want Victor getting anything.” Jessie heard the muted anger in her own voice, but was powerless to control it.

After a moment, and in a neutral tone, Emma said, “You were angry with him when you left Baron Hollow. That last couple of months or so. I remember it.”
And I’ve always wondered about it.

Jessie hesitated, then said, “He’d been hitting on me. Said I…blossomed that summer. I was seventeen and he was twenty-five.
And
he was my cousin. It was gross.”

“Jessie, he didn’t—”

“He and his friends liked to party. Even though I was mad, I was also flattered by the interest, the attention. He was considered quite a catch, remember, even then, and my friends at the time kept track of that sort of bullshit.” Jessie shrugged. “We were idiots, but teenagers tend to be. That’s the only way I can really explain…I was stupid enough to get talked into going to some of their parties. There was a lot of drinking.”

Emma was frowning now. “Jessie—”

“I’d sneak back into the house late, so you and Dad never knew.
Anyway, it’s not something I like to remember. And not something I want to talk about. Besides, a lot of it’s still fuzzy. Most of it, really, if I’m honest about it.” She looked across the table at the sister who was a stranger, and asked herself again if Emma needed to know any of this. Her life was here, and what right did Jessie have to ruin it for her?

“Are you saying…something happened between you and Victor?”

“No, I’m not saying that.” Jessie shook her head, avoiding her sister’s gaze. “I drank too much and barely remember any of it, but there were a lot of people at those parties. Not just Victor. He was usually there, but…I don’t want to talk about it, Emma. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about all this then?”

“I didn’t tell you then because you were only fifteen and because…because we didn’t confide in each other. We weren’t close and you know it. Sisters don’t have to be; it isn’t an immutable law.”

Emma was frowning. “Whatever we were then, I hope we can at least talk now. Jessie, did someone hurt you at any of those parties? Take advantage of you?”

Jessie uttered a shaken laugh. “An old-fashioned phrase. Like I said, Emma, a lot of it is fuzzy. I’m not sure what are memories and what are…things I might have seen or heard. All I really know is that I
feel
something bad happened that summer, at one of those parties. That’s why I came home, to try to sort things out.”

Emma was certain there was a great deal Jessie either knew or suspected and simply wasn’t willing to share. Yet, at least.

She wanted to ask more questions, but the set of Jessie’s mouth told her it would be useless. Her sister was stubborn. That, at least, had certainly not changed.