If You Hear Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense (6 page)

“You shouldn’t stare at the sun.”

The voice was low, rough … sexy. And familiar.

Ezra. Damn him.

Couldn’t he leave her in peace, even in her dreams?

Lena was a sucker for a sexy voice and he had such a fine one. Hands came up from behind, rested on her waist, and then slid around her, pulling her back against a hard, strong body.

“I don’t want to dream about you,” she said, but she didn’t pull away from him. No, she rested her head against his chest and continued to stare at the golden-white burn of the sun.

“I told you that you shouldn’t look at the sun,” he murmured, stroking one hand up and cupping her breast. Something hot and liquid flared to life inside her.

“It doesn’t matter if I look at it or not. Not now.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m just dreaming. Those pesky UV rays can’t hurt me here.” As much as she hated to look away from the sun, she did, turning in his embrace to study his face. She wanted to see him, too. See what subconscious image she had cooked up to go with that sexy voice.

And damn, her subconscious had delivered just fine.

Although sometimes she suspected her sighted memories weren’t as clear as they could have been, she wasn’t going to complain. He looked just fine to her.

Right now, she could see …

Right now, she could touch.

And more … she could be touched. Touched by somebody who wasn’t moved by curiosity or pity, or even worse, some fucked-up male desire to get a unique score he could tell a bunch of his loser friends about over a beer.

No, she was being touched by somebody who very obviously wanted to touch her right back. So what if it was only in a dream? At least here he couldn’t disappoint her by saying he’d call and then not follow through.

As he ran his hands down over her body, stripping away her clothes, Lena lifted her eyes upward and stared at the sun again.

Lost herself in the warm golden glow and the feel of a man’s hands on her body.

She could see … see his face as he guided her to the ground and knelt between her thighs.

She could touch … touch his shoulders and fist her
hands in his hair as he lowered his mouth to her aching core and licked her.

She could feel … feel the fiery hot pleasure blistering through her as he levered up over her and pushed inside, one deep, smooth thrust that stretched her in the sweetest damn way.

She could hear—

“Help me!”

Lena came awake with a gasp. Her heart knocked against her ribs and she shivered as cool air danced over her sweat-slicked body. A breeze drifted in through the open window.

It was cool … not cold. But she was freezing.

Hearing one low, questioning yip, she held out her hand. Puck pressed his nose against her palm and she heaved out a breath. The dog’s body was tense—all over tense and he had his hackles up.

“Sorry, boy. Just had a bad dream,” she muttered. She’d gone and freaked her dog out.

As she started to lie back down, she heard it.

A voice.

“… help me …”

Puck growled.

Jerking back up, she turned her head toward the window, tried to breathe past the knot in her chest. “What in the hell …?” She closed her eyes, listened. Concentrated.

Puck growled again, louder this time, his voice rough, full of menace, full of warning. Lena shushed him, her voice sharp, her own fear edging its way in.

Through the window, she could hear … something. Thrashing in the forest that bordered the western edge of her property. The western edge … the woods. That strip of land where lately, her dog didn’t like to go. Not for the past few months.

“Somebody, please help me!”

The sound of the woman’s screams, raw and agonized, sent a shudder racing down Lena’s spine.

“Oh, God,” Lena whispered. Her heart slammed against her rib cage as she reached for the phone by her bed.

There was another scream and she dropped the phone. Swearing, she crawled out of the bed, patting around on the floor. “Damn it, damn it, damn it.” Icy, cold sweat dripped along her spine as she listened through the window.

Branches snapping. A ragged moan. Then all was silent.

Where’s the fricking phone??

Making a sound halfway between a sob and a growl, she stuck her hand under the bed and heaved out a sigh of relief as her fingers brushed plastic. Scuttling across the floor, she pressed her back to the wall and listened, phone clutched in her hand.

Call 911, damn it!
She tried to get her fingers to move but terror made them clumsy.

Outside, she heard nothing. She didn’t hear anything … wait. Yes, yes, she heard something now, but it was quiet … somebody, moving quietly and softly through the trees.

If her room had been any farther away from the woods, if she had lived any closer to town … hell, if she’d had the radio playing, she never would have heard it. So, so quiet …

There was another short, sharp scream—one that ended all too abruptly. The sound of it was enough to get her frozen fingers to move and she dialed 911.

Puck made a rough sound low in his throat and nosed her leg. She patted the space next to her and as he pressed his big, furry body against her leg, she wrapped an arm around him.

“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”

“I … I hear a woman screaming. She’s screaming for help.”

It only took minutes. Maybe ten. Logically, she knew not much time had passed before she heard the sirens, but it seemed like an eternity. Too long. Too much time.

She hadn’t heard the woman again … what if it was too late?

They could have been there for thirty minutes. They could have been there for three hours.

Lena suspected it was somewhere in between, but she wasn’t sure.

She was having a damned hard time concentrating.

Nobody screaming for help.

No woman.

No abandoned cars on the side of the road, no wrecks.

Nothing.

They hadn’t seen a soul, hadn’t found a damn thing.

But she’d heard somebody.

“Ms. Riddle.”

Lena folded her fingers around the cup of coffee. “Sergeant … Jennings, is that right?” She gave him a faint smile. “I guess you’re related to half the town, then.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m Keith Jennings, if that helps any.”

The quiet humor she heard in his voice made her smile. “A bit.” She sighed and pushed a hand through her hair. “When half the county is named Jennings, even a bit of help is nice.”

“Well, to be honest, I think it’s only a quarter … and I’m a pretty distant cousin.”

He was smiling a little. She could hear it in his voice. “You mean there are people here who aren’t distant cousins?” The Jennings family practically owned Ash, it seemed.

“Well, you’re not.”

“True.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and sighed. “Did you … um … was there anybody …”

“I’m sorry, but we couldn’t find anything.” He was silent for a second and then cleared his throat. “Would it be okay if I sat down?”

“Oh, of course. I’m sorry. I …”

“It’s okay. It’s late and all.”

She heard the other rocking chair creak as he sat down.

“That sure is a fine dog you’ve got there, Ms. Riddle. What was his name again?”

“Puck.”

“Nice dog.”

She heard him snap his fingers and it made her smile. Keeping her hand on the dog’s harness, she said, “He won’t come to you while he’s on his leash. He’s working.” She adjusted the dark glasses she wore.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know.”

He chuckled and said, “I guess people do that a lot.”

“Some.” Lena shrugged. “Not so much around here, though. At least not now. They’re getting to know him.” She grimaced. “It does happen a lot when I go into Lexington or Louisville.”

“People see a pretty dog, they want to pet it.”

Lena smiled. “Yes.” Puck was a beautiful dog, twenty-eight inches at the shoulder, well-behaved, and although she couldn’t see his golden coat, she knew it was shiny and clean. Jennings spoke the truth—Puck was a pretty dog and people like to pet pretty dogs.

But as pretty as Puck was, he was also a working dog. Plus, he was her dog. He liked people well enough, but he preferred her over other people. He wasn’t just her dog—he was a friend. It was more than a pet/owner relationship. With a guide dog, it had to be.

Silence fell, stretching out for nearly a minute before
Sgt. Jennings broke it with a question. “So, can you tell me more about what happened?”

“Screaming,” she whispered quietly, turning her head to the wooded area that bordered the western part of her property. A knot settled in her throat and she had to clear her throat twice before she could manage to speak. Fear tore into her, brutal and sharp. “Somebody was in the woods. I could hear her screaming … screaming for help.”

“You’re sure it was a woman?”

Lena licked her lips. “Well, no. I can’t be positive, but she sounded female. I only heard her voice a couple of times, but she sounded … well, female.”

“And she was screaming.”

“Yes.” Lena’s hands were suddenly damp, cold with sweat. Swiping them down the front of her pajama bottoms, she tried to pretend they weren’t shaking. “That was what woke me up. I heard her scream. I was sitting there in bed, kind of confused … you know how it is when something wakes you up, but you’re not sure what it is?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, it was like that. I was sitting there, trying to figure out what had woken me up and then I heard it again. Heard her. She screamed, ‘Help me.’ A few seconds later, I heard somebody thrashing around in the woods and then she screamed again—‘Please, somebody help me!’ No, that wasn’t it. It was ‘Somebody, please help me!’ Sounded a little closer, too. I grabbed the phone and called nine-one-one.”

“After you made the call, did you hear her again?”

Lena shook her head. “No. Just those few times … well, three or four, I guess.” Then she paused, cocked her head. “No. Five. I heard her cry out five different times. I think her screaming is what woke me up.”

“And you’re sure you were awake?”

“Yes.” She suppressed a sigh as she shifted in the rocking chair. “I was awake, Sergeant. Very awake.”

“Okay.” The chair creaked under his weight. Paper rustled. “We took a look around the house, didn’t see anything.”

“She wasn’t around the house.” Lena pinched the bridge of her nose. A headache was settling behind her eyes—a monster bitch of a headache. “I heard her in the woods. Did you look there?”

“We took a bit of a look around. But, as you can imagine, it’s pretty dark … hard to see much of anything.” He paused, cleared his throat. “However, I can swing by later, after the sun’s up. Take another look around when I can see.”

Lena grimaced. The woman had sounded so desperate. Could she wait until the sun rose? “There’s nothing else you can do?”

“I’m afraid not. I had another one of the deputies check the roads, make sure nobody had been in an accident or anything like that. Could have been an accident victim.”

No. That wasn’t it. She didn’t know why, but she was convinced it wasn’t that. It was … worse.

Your imagination is running away with you
, she thought. A car wreck could explain it just fine.

Except there weren’t any car wrecks around.

Feeling his expectant gaze, she forced a smile. “Well, if you would come back and take a look around in the daytime, I’d appreciate it.”

“H
OLY SHIT
,” R
OZ BREATHED OUT
. “A
RE YOU SERIOUS
?”

Lena rubbed her gritty eyes and said, “Yeah, I’m serious.” She checked the time and then stretched out on the couch, cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder. “I swear, Roz, I feel like I’ve been run over by a bus or something. Last night was the worst night of my life.”

“You hear some woman screaming for help, it’s not going to make for sweet dreams,” Roz said, her voice wry.

“You ain’t kidding.”

“So what is the sheriff’s department doing?”

Her spine stiffened as she recalled the conversation she’d had with Jennings a few hours earlier. “Right now? Nothing. The guy from the sheriff’s department who came by last night came back over this morning, walked the main trail and didn’t see anything, hear anything. Beyond that, there’s not much they can do.”

“That’s a fucking load of bullshit,” Roz snarled.

“That was my first thought, too.” Lena adjusted a pillow under her head. “I was thinking about going to the sheriff’s office, talking to somebody else. But seriously, I don’t know what they can do.”

“Want me to come with you?” Roz offered.

“Nah, that’s okay. You’ve got that shower this afternoon, anyway. I’m going to call Law.”

“Perfect …”

He stepped back and surveyed his handiwork.

She slept, her face slack, her breathing deep and steady. Just a little chemical inducement was all it had taken. He had to keep her quiet, after all.

She wouldn’t get free this time. He didn’t like using the shackles—he liked the velvet ropes better, loved how they looked against a woman’s soft, smooth skin. But she’d gotten free from the ropes and he couldn’t risk that happening again.