Midnight Exposure (33 page)

“I’ve got you.” Reed’s firm grip on her elbow kept her on her feet. He steered her around the front end of the truck, opened the passenger door, and boosted her into the seat. Reaching across her trembling body, he started the engine and turned the heat on full. He produced a bottle of water from the pocket behind her seat. “I’ll be right back.”

Jayne took a small sip of cold water as Reed disappeared around the house. He wasn’t going to swoon at the horrible thing in the yard. Neither had Jed, although the hunter had looked shocked as hell. But Reed, he’d acted like it was business as usual.

For an ex-cop it probably was.

He slid into the driver’s seat and shifted into reverse. “We’re going to call Doug. Jed’ll wait here.”

Jayne closed her eyes. A vision of the head immediately popped into her mind. Better to concentrate on the pebbled gray dashboard.

Wonderful. Her kidnapper was a deranged killer—only deranged killers, ancient Romans, and barbarian hordes left decapitated heads on poles—and they were going to call Doug. While he halfheartedly conducted a half-assed investigation into her abduction, the murderer roamed free in Huntsville, possibly preparing to hunt down another victim.

Or come looking for Jayne in Philadelphia.

Reed K-turned onto the main road. “He’ll have to call the state police in now.”

But was it too late?

Would she ever really feel safe again?

Nathan’s eyes shot to his office window. Outside, dusk encroached on the overcast sky with none of the usual sunset colors. The gradual loss of daylight reminded him of the increasing dimness in Uncle Aaron’s eyes, a clouded confusion that made Nathan’s chest ache. His uncle’s illness was progressing. Traditional medicine had failed. His uncle was turning to desperate measures. Nathan dropped his chin into his hands. The gloom and doom felt right on par with the rest of his life.

Accounting spreadsheets blurred as he stared at the computer screen. He set his drugstore reading glasses on the desk and rubbed his eyes with both fists. The phone in the next room pealed, only slightly muffled by the thin wall between Nathan’s office and the storage room where Doug’s temporary office was set up. Nathan could hear everything that went on in there.

Handy.

“Doug Lang.” Doug didn’t notice he was working in an auditory fishbowl. His voice rang through the Sheetrock clear as music from Evan’s iPod through a set of Bose speakers. “A head? At Aaron McCree’s old place? Are you sure it’s human?”

Nathan concentrated harder on Doug’s voice as the cop promised to check out the find and call for state police support. Merry fucking Christmas. What was he going to do now? He’d made a promise to do everything in his power to help his uncle.

But this did complicate things.

“You’re not going to believe this.” Doug poked his head around Nathan’s doorway and repeated the news.

Nathan feigned shock, complete with a slack jaw and an open mouth. His acting skills were getting quite the workout this week. “Oh my God! No. Are you sure?”

“I’m only relaying what Reed Kimball said.” Doug’s chest expanded. “I’m going out there now to investigate before I call anyone else. Wouldn’t want to bother the state police if it’s just a deer or something. Kimball’s a city boy. Probably wouldn’t recognize an animal skull.”

“Good thinking.” Nathan pushed to his feet. Reed Kimball was no fool. He knew exactly what he’d found. And Jed certainly knew an animal head when he saw one, but Doug needed his ego stroked. “Hugh’s death was such a loss to the community, but it comforts me to know you’re in charge. The rest of the town council feels the same way.” Actually, most of the members thought Doug was an incompetent moron, but Nathan liked having a cop in his pocket, so to speak.

Doug gave him a serious nod. “You need to come out and have a look at your uncle’s place. I’ll need you to go through the place and see if anything’s missing. If Reed’s right, somebody must’ve broke in and used Aaron’s house. Transient or squatter or something.”

“I was at Uncle Aaron’s just the other day. I didn’t see anything unusual, but then I was mostly concerned with plowing the road and making sure the house was still standing. I was in a rush to get back here. Didn’t even go inside.” Nathan reached for his coat. “I just never imagined anyone would be interested in the place. Nothing worth stealing. The place is a mess. Uncle Aaron really let it go over the past couple of years. I should’ve known something was wrong with him.”

“Give yourself a break. You couldn’t have known.”

“Thanks, Doug. I’ll meet you out there. God, I’m so sorry I didn’t properly inspect the property. There’s no excuse, really. I hate to think a killer was using the house to hurt people.”

“You have an awful lot on your plate right now with taking care of Aaron and all.” Doug waved off Nathan’s apology. “I’m sure this is just an animal or something.”

“You go on ahead. I’ll be right behind you.” Nathan shrugged into his coat. “I want to call home real quick and see if Uncle Aaron is OK.”

Doug turned. “See you out there.”

“How many more bags of stuff?” Scott snagged another slice of pizza from the box and tilted the box toward Brandon. “Another?”

“Thanks.” Brandon grabbed a cheesy wedge, folded it lengthwise, and took a huge bite. Half the slice disappeared. “Not too many. We may finish up earlier than we thought.”

“Cool.” Scott chewed through his crust and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He reached behind him for another black trash bag, dumping the contents on the buffet table. An assortment of gloves, hats, and coats hit the table with a rustle of nylon. “I gotta finish that history paper for Miss Seacrest. It’s due tomorrow.”

“You’re still workin’ on that?” Brandon grinned at him. “Dude, she assigned that weeks ago. No wonder you drive your old man nuts.”

“I’ll get it done.” Scott laughed. “Always do. Have to mail my college apps this week, too.”

“Christ, nothing like sliding them in under the wire.” Brandon shook his head. “Mine went in a month ago. Not that it’ll matter.”

“Hey, man. Don’t say that.”

Brandon tossed a pair of faded pink mittens into a plastic bin marked Girls’ Gloves & Mittens. “No scholarships for me. I’m not a straight-A student or a great athlete.”

Hard to be either with two jobs, Scott thought. Brandon had been filling the shoes of his worthless old man since he was in grade school. “What about financial aid?”

“Even with, the only school I can possible afford is community college.”

“Nothing wrong with community college.”

Brandon snorted. “Sure, says you. Where’d your old man go?”

“Georgetown. Man, he’s gonna be pissed if I don’t get in.” Scott threw a pair of rubber boots into the appropriate plastic tub. “And he’s gonna be even more pissed if I do and back out.”

“Why don’t you just tell him you don’t want to go there?”

“My dad has wanted me to go to Georgetown since I was born.”

“He’ll deal.” Brandon dumped another garbage bag of clothing on the table, pulled out a ripped jacket, and tossed it into the discard pile. “Just tell him you want to go somewhere else.”

“That’s the thing. I don’t know where I want to go.” Scott sighed. “What I really want is to take a year off and travel. Take my time and figure out where my head’s at. But I’d have to get the old man to approve a withdrawal from my trust. I doubt he’ll agree.”

“You never know until you ask.”

“True.” Scott turned for another bag, but the space behind them was empty. “Yo, was that the last one?”

“Seems like.”

“Cool. I should call my dad to come and get me.” Scott reached into his pocket and drew out his cell when a voice called from the kitchen entrance.

“Hello, boys. Could I ask a favor of you both?”

“Doug and Nathan are on their way to the house.” Reed set a cup of steaming tea in front of Jayne. She was still pale, but her spine was straight and her jaw set as she booted up his laptop on the kitchen island. She’d tough it out, but the memory would haunt her forever. An unpreserved head was a nasty sight for a jaded professional. Even in winter, a sunny day warmed things up enough for decomposition to occur, albeit at a slower rate than in warmer seasons. Then there were the animals. Hungry scavengers did not differentiate between a human head and a roadkill squirrel.

Although the fact that it had been a crow picking on that head was just plain bizarre.

Reed glanced over Jayne’s shoulder at the dark glass. Before he clicked on any lights, Reed toured the windows and closed all the blinds. Darkness had overtaken the yard. “I have to go pick up Scott.”

“OK.” Jayne opened the browser. “Ooh. E-mail. Here’s the picture back.”

She clicked Download. “Holy. Shit.”

“What is it?” Reed leaned in closer.

Mute, she turned the laptop around to face him. The screen displayed the image of the robe-clad man in the woods. Reed’s eyes were drawn to the grisly object held in the man’s huge hand like a bowling ball, now lightened to the point of recognition.

“Do you think that’s the same head?”

“I sure as hell hope so.” Reed also prayed it was the rest of Zack Miller’s remains. Otherwise there was another headless body out there somewhere. Another victim. Reed leaned in closer for a better look, but IDing the head on a visual wasn’t possible. Dental records or DNA would be required to identify the remains.

“Do you know the guy in the robe?”

Reed shifted his gaze to the face, formerly obscured by the robe’s shadow. Stunned silence hung over the kitchen.
It couldn’t be
.

He squinted at the picture again.

“Do you know him?” Jayne repeated her question impatiently. “Yeah. I know him.”

John’s legs wobbled. The grating of tires on packed snow ceased. Cold sweat leaked into his filthy wool sweater as he crouched behind the door hinges. His arms trembled under the weight of the log in his hands. One day without drugs wasn’t enough to restore his balance or strength after more than a month of imprisonment and malnourishment, but it was all he was going to get.

On the other side of the closed door, boots crunched on ice, then rang on wooden steps.

Fear slipped through John’s bowels. He tensed, lifting the wood above his shoulder in a two-handed grip.

The door opened. Through the gap at the hinge, John waited for a masked face to appear. When a gray head moved into view, John hesitated. The white head was bare.

Could this be the wrong guy?

Who else would be here?

The head turned. Clouded blue eyes scanned the room. Recognition and fury flared simultaneously. In the precious seconds it took John to swing the log, the old man registered the threat and ducked.

John missed. Momentum carried him forward. He fell onto his hands and knees. Over his shoulder, he saw his captor clearly for the first time. A thin face topped with a shock of wild, white hair.

Fists rained down on his shoulders and back. John’s arms folded like a cheap TV tray. Fresh pain shot through his face as his chin hit the wood floor. A boot connected with his temple.

His last conscious thought was that he’d been right. He wasn’t getting out of this alive. This time his captor hadn’t bothered to cover his face. Obviously the old man was no longer concerned with concealing his identity.