Hunting Fear (12 page)

Sam could hear his voice, hear Lindsay’s. Hear, somewhere, a faucet dripping. The hum of the fluorescent lights. And she knew what Lindsay was thinking, feeling.

Which was new and more than a little unsettling.

So was the deep cold she felt, a chill so intense it was as if she’d been dropped into a freezer. The sensation was so powerful and her response so visceral that she wondered how Lindsay and her captor couldn’t hear her teeth chattering.

“If I’m going to die,” Lindsay was saying steadily, “then why not get it over with?”

“I don’t have the ransom yet, of course. The good sheriff could demand to see proof of you alive before he pays up.”

Samantha knew that Lindsay was thinking about the investigators’ conclusion that this wasn’t about money, and she felt immensely relieved when the detective didn’t mention that.

Instead, Lindsay said, “Okay, then why do I have to die? Why did any of your victims have to die? The ransom was always paid. I certainly can’t identify you, and if a cop can’t it’s not likely any of the others could have.”

“Yes, I know.”

“You just like killing, is that it?”

“Ah, Lindsay, you just don’t get it. I don’t kill—”

Samantha opened her eyes with a gasp, so disoriented that for a long moment she had no idea what had happened. Then she realized she was looking at Lindsay’s cruiser, the driver’s door open, from a distance of several feet. And from ground level.

“What the hell?” she murmured huskily.

“Take it easy,” Lucas said. “Don’t try to move for a minute.”

Ignoring that advice, Samantha turned her head to look up at him, realizing only then that she was sitting on the pavement and that he, kneeling half behind her, was supporting her. Baffled, she looked down to see that he was holding both her hands, his palms covering hers.

“How did I get out of the car?” It was the only specific thing she could think of to ask.

“I pulled you out.”

“How long was I—”

“Forty-two minutes,” he told her.

“What?” She realized she was stiff, cold. “It can’t have been that long.”

“It was.”

She frowned down at their hands, vaguely aware that her thoughts were scattered, that she wasn’t quite back yet. “Why are you holding my hands like that?”

He released one of her hands, and she found herself staring at a ragged white line across her palm. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s called frostnip,” he said, covering her hand again with his own warm one. “The first stage of frostbite.”

“What?” Was that the only word she knew? “It must be eighty-five degrees out here.”

“Nearly ninety,” Sheriff Metcalf said.

Samantha jerked her head around in the other direction to see the sheriff and Jaylene standing nearby. He had his arms folded across his chest and looked both skeptical and suspicious. Jaylene was, as usual, serene.

“Hi,” Samantha said. “Almost ninety?”

He nodded.

“Then how the hell do I have the beginning of frostbite?”

“You don’t know?” he demanded sardonically.

“I’m cold, but—”

“You were holding the steering wheel,” Lucas said. “The frostnip is exactly where it would have been if the wheel had been frozen.”

She looked back up at him, then swore under her breath and struggled to sit upright without his help. He let her go without protest but remained kneeling where he was as she twisted around so she could see all three of them.

Flexing her fingers, she realized that the white streaks across her palms were numb.

“Tuck your hands under your arms,” Lucas advised. “You have to warm the area.”

Samantha badly wanted to get up off the ground and stand on her own two feet but had a feeling that if she tried that too soon, she’d only find herself leaning heavily on Lucas for support. So she crossed her arms over her breasts and tucked her hands underneath to help warm them.

“It doesn’t make sense,” she told him, trying to gather her scattered thoughts. “It wasn’t cold there. Lindsay wasn’t cold. So why would I—”

“Lindsay?” Metcalf took a step toward her, then brought himself up short.

Perfectly aware that while he was eager to hear about Lindsay he was unlikely to believe what Samantha told him, she said, “She’s okay, at least for now. Tied to a chair and wearing some kind of hood over her head, but okay. She was even talking to him. Trying to find a weakness she could use.”

“Sounds like her,” Metcalf said, again almost involuntarily.

“Did you see or hear anything helpful?” Jaylene asked.

“I don’t think so. There was a kind of spotlight over the chair so the rest of the room was in shadow. I never saw him, and his voice was so . . . bland . . . I doubt I’d recognize it if he spoke to me right now.”

“Did you get a sense of the place?” Lucas asked.

Samantha tried hard to concentrate, to remember. “Not really. The hum of the lights, a faucet dripping, the sort of deadened echo you get in an underground room with a lot of hard surfaces.”

“Underground?”

“I think so. It felt that way.”

“You didn’t see any windows?”

“No. Nothing reflective. Just that light shining down on her, and the rest of the room in shadows.”

“What else?”

“She was asking him why he killed his victims when they couldn’t identify him. He started to answer her, saying she didn’t understand, that he didn’t kill—something. But I never heard the end of what he was saying, I guess because you pulled me out.”

His tone more one of explanation than of excuse, Lucas said, “You were white as a sheet and shivering, and you had a death grip on that steering wheel. It didn’t look like a normal vision to me.”

Metcalf snorted. “Normal vision?”

Samantha ignored him, saying to Lucas, “It didn’t feel like a normal one. I couldn’t seem to move, to look anywhere else but at Lindsay. That’s never happened before.”

Lucas nodded, but instead of commenting got to his feet and helped her up. “We still need a place to start. If you didn’t see or hear anything helpful—”

Remembering, Samantha said, “He told Lindsay he didn’t have any connection to this town, that it was one reason he felt safe in sticking around. But he has to be living somewhere. And there must be a place he kept Callahan and where he has Lindsay now. If I had to guess, I’d say you’re looking for at least two different places. Where he lives, and where he keeps them.”

“Somewhere private,” Lucas said. “Where he can hold his victims without too much fear of discovery.”

Jaylene said, “Sounds like a place to start.”

Still looking at Lucas, Samantha said, “That’s what you asked for. And it’s all I can do. I don’t see any reason for me to return to the sheriff’s department. So, if you wouldn’t mind dropping me back at the carnival before you get started with your search, I’d appreciate it.”

Metcalf said, “To get ready for tonight’s show, I suppose.”

“That is how I make my living.”

“Cheating people. Lying to them.”

Samantha sighed. “Sheriff, I’m trying hard to make allowances for someone who’s ignorant of what he’s talking about and worried half out of his mind because someone he cares about is missing. But right now, I’m cold, I’m tired, my hands are beginning to hurt, and I really don’t give a shit what you think. So why don’t you concentrate on doing your job and finding Lindsay and just leave me the hell alone.”

Metcalf turned on his heel and stalked back toward his cruiser.

“Way to get local law enforcement on your side,” Jaylene murmured.

“I don’t care if he’s on my side.”

Lucas was eyeing her thoughtfully. “You usually don’t go out of your way to antagonize them, though.”

“Usually? There’s no usually, Luke, at least not that you know. It’s been more than three years since you were any part of my life. Things change. People change. Now,
if
you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to get back to the carnival.”

“You should see a doctor about your hands.”

“Ellis is still an LPN, and I’ll see her.”

Jaylene said, “I guess one of us can collect your stuff back at the station and drop it off at your motel first chance we get.”

“That’ll be fine.”

Silently, Lucas gestured toward his rental, and all three went to the car. Samantha got in the back and was silent, staring out the window, all the way to the fairgrounds. Once there, she merely said, “Thanks for the ride,” and got out before either of them could say anything.

Watching the other woman walk away, Jaylene said, “I think I should be the one to gather up Sam’s stuff.”

“You think you’ll pick up something?”

“I think she’s acting strangely. And I think you think the same thing.”

“Maybe. She’s right, though—it’s been years. Maybe neither one of us knows Samantha at all now.”

“And maybe there’s something specific she doesn’t want us to know.”

Lucas frowned. “Her whole attitude seemed to change once she had that vision. You think she saw something she didn’t tell us about?”

“I think I want to touch her belongings and see if I can pick up anything. And I think we’ve got some long, hard hours ahead of us trying to find Lindsay.”

“Yeah.” With an effort, Lucas pushed Samantha out of his mind and turned the car back toward town.

Leo spotted Samantha and met her halfway up the mostly deserted midway. “Hey.”

“Hey. Did the sheriff arrest anybody, or was Jay able to stop him?”

“Well, between us we managed to convince him he was wasting valuable time here.”

“That must have been fun.”

“The high point of my day.” Leo studied her and said more seriously, “My guess is that your day was even worse.”

“I’ll have to tell you about it sometime. At the moment, though, I need to see Ellis. Is she around?”

“Yeah, in her caravan. You sick?”

Samantha showed him her palms. “Just a bit dented.”

“How the hell’d you do that?”

“Long story. Leo, I want to open my booth tonight.”

Both his bushy eyebrows lifted. “You sure? I mean, we’ve had tons of interest, even with your poster not out on the marquee, but—”

“Put it out, please. My hours tonight will be from seven until. I’ll see as many as I can.”

“And when the reporters show up asking to speak to you?”

Her smile was wry. “Tell ’em to buy a ticket like everybody else.”

“I’ll love the publicity,” he said frankly, “but are you sure, Sam? What’s good for the carnival isn’t necessarily good for you, we both know that.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You look tired already,” he pointed out. “After three or four hours of readings, you’ll be half dead.”

“As long as I’m half alive.” Samantha shrugged. “Don’t worry about me, Leo. Just pass the word that my booth will be open tonight, please. I’ll see you later.”

“Hey, try to take a nap or something before tonight, will you?”

“I will,” Samantha lied. She continued on past Leo, heading for the line of RVs parked off to one side of the midway and colorful collection of booths, rides, and tents. She knocked on the door of one RV whose protective awning was hung with multiple wind chimes and whirligigs and, when she received a response, went inside.

“How was the voluntary jail time?” Ellis Langford was at least sixty-five but looked twenty years younger, an improbable redhead with a still–head-turning figure. And she dressed to turn heads.

“Bearable,” Samantha replied with a shrug.

“Even with Luke Jordan there?”

“Him being there didn’t change a thing.”

“Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear, Sam, tell me the truth.”

Samantha grimaced. “Okay, then. It was hell. That’s the truth. Half the time I wanted to scream and throw things at him, and the other half . . .”

“You wanted to find the nearest bed?”

Without replying to that, Samantha thrust out her hands, palms up. “I’m told this is frostnip. What should I do about it?”

Ellis studied her hands, brows rising. “Is the feeling coming back?”

“A bit. Tingling. Sort of an ache.”

Ellis went into the kitchen area of her RV and filled a large pot with warm water. Then she returned to the living area and instructed Samantha to sit down and immerse her hands in the water.

Sitting obediently with warm water up to her wrists, Samantha said, “How long do I have to do this?”

“Do you have somewhere else to be?”

“Not immediately. But I want to get my booth ready to open.”

Ellis sat down across from Samantha and picked up her knitting. What she was knitting looked rather like a tulip-shaped vase. Samantha didn’t ask what it was supposed to be; Ellis was famous for presenting friends with odd knitted things, and Sam already had quite a collection of tea cozies, caps, paperback dustcovers, and various other colorful accessories.