Pitch Black (27 page)
I
N THE EARLY MORNING HOURS, it wasn’t truly necessary to use lights and siren to race through the deserted streets of Buckeye. Gabe took no extra chances. He used both as he crossed town at high speed.
The distance between the bridge on Settlers Road and Maddie’s house was about as far as it could be and still be in the same township. Todd had made certain Ethan’s walk would be a long one. Maddie had been alone in the house for over two hours.
Please don’t let us be too late.
Stamping out his rising panic, Gabe drove faster.
He glanced at Ethan. The boy was stonefaced, leaning forward as if urging more speed. His hand was gripped tight on the door handle.
“Go faster!” Ethan said, keeping his own gaze on the road ahead.
They hit a chuckhole and the steering wheel jerked in Gabe’s hands. He was already going too fast. He pressed on the accelerator and prayed nothing strayed into their path.
They reached the outskirts of town where the road grew more serpentine and undulating. Gabe had to decrease his speed to keep the Jeep on the road.
“What are you doing? Don’t slow down!”
Gabe couldn’t spare a look toward Ethan; it took all of his concentration to keep the vehicle under control.
MADISON STUBBED HER TOE AND FELL
, but was back on her feet almost as swiftly as she’d gone down. Her first steps were hobbling, but she quickly found her stride, straining against the uphill grade.
Whiplike branches stung her already bruised face. The uneven ground tortured her feet and strained her ankles. Twigs poked and rocks sliced. But she kept going.
Trying to listen for Todd behind her, she couldn’t hear anything except her own breathing and the slap and rattle of the underbrush as she moved.
Quiet. She had to slow down and be quiet. All he had to do was listen and she’d give her location away.
When she slowed, she did hear him—crashing like a bull and uttering vile threats. Threats she had no doubt he’d make good if he caught her.
She stopped moving and listened. He was off to her left; it didn’t sound like he was headed directly toward her. That fact gave her hope.
Her best bet was to find help, not to try to outsmart him on terrain where he had the advantage. Instinct told her to keep running. She had to bet he thought she would—and she had to act opposite of what he expected.
She decided to circle around and head back toward the road, maybe even her house. Ethan might be hurt. She could call for help on her cell phone.
Forcing herself to move smart instead of fast, she veered right first, to put more distance between her and Todd. Then she could swing the rest of the way around toward the house.
It took all of her will not to run. She picked her path as carefully as the darkness allowed, quietly making her way back toward home—at least she hoped she was pointed toward home. Why did it have to be the dark of the moon? She had nothing to guide her at all.
At least she was headed back downhill.
GABE KILLED THE EMERGENCY LIGHTS
and siren as they turned onto Turnbull Road. He took the corner too quickly and the back end of the Jeep fishtailed before he got it completely around the corner.
“Why did you turn the siren off? Maybe it’ll scare him away.”
“Because maybe it’ll scare him away,” Gabe echoed.
And maybe it’ll force him to complete his act quickly and run.
But Ethan didn’t need to hear that. “If he takes off into the woods, it’s gonna be much harder to catch him.”
“But M—”
“I know.” Gabe didn’t want to think what precious seconds could mean. But Todd was his father’s son. He could disappear into these mountains and never be caught. He would be a lingering threat against which they had little defense.
He pushed the car as fast as he dared.
Because of the S curve at the railroad overpass, Gabe didn’t see the tree lying across the road until he was almost upon it.
He slammed on the brakes. Still, the Jeep skidded into the wall of green. Branches crackled and snapped. Gabe heard the plastic lens of the headlight break. The vehicle stopped with a jerk and an explosion of airbags when the front bumper hit the main trunk.
MADISON SUDDENLY REALIZED
she no longer heard Todd’s rage-filled rants, or the sound of him thrashing everything around him with that bat. She couldn’t tell how much farther the house or the road was; her progress was radically slower than it had been when she’d been running
into
the woods.
She held perfectly still, straining to hear movement. There was a slight breeze in the treetops; the rustle of the leaves sounded like very distant applause—Mother Nature enjoying the human hunt.
Madison didn’t hear anything that sounded like Todd moving nearby.
Was he holding still, listening for her like she was listening for him? Dare she move?
She squatted down, making herself as small as possible, and waited. As she hunkered there next to a thick-trunked tree, she looked at her light gray sweatshirt. Setting the unlit flashlight down, she ripped the sweatshirt over her head and wadded it into a ball. Her black T-shirt didn’t provide much protection, but it wouldn’t show up against the trees, either.
Dropping the sweatshirt, she rolled it around to dirty it up so at least it didn’t stand out in contrast to the ground and vegetation. She didn’t want to leave a visible trail. Then she shoved it into the underbrush, stayed low, and listened.
It seemed the more intently she listened, the more confused she became. There were hundreds of small sounds all around her . . . which ones could be a warning of danger?
Todd had been loud in his movements as he chased her. None of those tiny sounds could be him.
She took a deep breath and stood, ready to move again.
A twig snapped behind her.
Instinctively, she crouched as she turned.
Nothing moved toward her.
Waiting another few seconds, she didn’t hear anything except the breeze and the night creatures—the four-and six-legged kind.
She had to get to the house—to her phone, or her car. But she couldn’t leave until she’d searched the house for Ethan. Had he taken refuge in some hiding spot before Todd had found him?
As unlikely as that was, she could hope. In her heart, she knew Ethan would never willingly stay hidden while she was being attacked. If there was any way in his power to help, he would have.
Was he injured? Did he need medical help?
Driven by urgency to discover Ethan’s condition, she took a risk and moved more quickly.
JESUS CHRIST, HAD TODD
thought of everything?
Gabe blinked the stinging pain from the airbag away and reached to unfasten his seat belt. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Ethan coughed. “That wasn’t here when I left.”
Gabe jabbed the button turning on the emergency flashers, picked up the small flashlight from the console, then shoved open the driver’s-side door. Tree branches fought him, but he finally managed to get it open far enough to get out.
Ethan put down the passenger window and slipped out that way.
His way lighted by the remaining headlight, Gabe climbed over the tree trunk, then pushed his way through the branches, breaking into a run as soon as he was free.
He hadn’t gone six strides when Ethan passed him.
“Wait!”
The kid kept going.
IF ONLY TODD HADN’T CUT THE POWER
, she’d at least have a light to head toward once she got close. In this pitch black, she’d have to be practically right on it before she saw the house.
Then she thought grimly, if Todd hadn’t cut the power, she wouldn’t have had any warning at all. She’d be dead.
She stopped and looked around her. Even if it hadn’t been so bloody dark, she wasn’t familiar enough with the terrain around her own house to recognize where she was.
With a leap of faith, she pressed forward.
What if she wasn’t going the right direction—
There it was! The white hulk of the rented Taurus stood out against the dark side of the house. She’d angled in from the side instead of coming directly up behind the backyard.
She sprinted toward the front porch—the door she knew to be unlocked. Not only unlocked, she saw, but still open; for some reason that unsettling and vulnerable sight gave her pause. Stupid, since there was a madman chasing her with a baseball bat.
She didn’t slow as she ran through the house. Luckily it was a fairly straight shot from the front door to the kitchen; it didn’t matter that her vision wasn’t good enough to guide her. She didn’t want to risk the flashlight showing through the windows.
Her purse was on the kitchen table. Her cell phone was in her purse.
She flew through the kitchen door with the flashlight clutched in her left hand and reached toward the table with her right.
The pain in her right forearm was so sharp and so unexpected that she thought she might faint. Nausea rolled and she collapsed to her knees clutching her arm across her stomach.
“Damn, but you’re making this difficult,” Todd said; his cold calm voice now laced with an edge of anger.
She heard the bat tap the glass tabletop.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
She tried to move her arm, but the lightning bolt of pain told her it was broken. She drew in deep draughts of air trying to keep from throwing up.
“Gotta give you credit. Most people wouldn’t have thought to ditch the sweatshirt. Would have been faster to come in the back door, though.”
He
had
been following her. How long?
What did it matter?
Focus. She had to focus.
Gritting her teeth, Madison tried to gather her thoughts, make a plan, but there was nothing in her mind but a red-hot swirl of pain.
NO MATTER HOW HARD GABE PUSHED
, he couldn’t gain ground on Ethan. At least he wasn’t falling farther behind. He concentrated on keeping the rhythm of his feet steady; he couldn’t allow himself to slow down. His lungs felt as if someone had reached down his throat and was trying to pull them out with taloned fingers.
It was three-quarters of a mile between the S curve and Maddie’s house. Thank God they were getting close.
They passed Todd’s car pulled into the brush on the side of the road about thirty yards from the house—confirmation of Gabe’s fears.
Ethan started to run faster.
Gabe didn’t waste the breath to caution him. His shout would be a warning that he didn’t want to give Todd.
Maddie’s house was dark . . . completely dark, including the porchlight she usually left on.
Gabe reached for his gun.
Maddie screamed. Glass shattered.
Todd gave an unearthly bellow that bounced and echoed all around Gabe, turning his insides to water.
Ethan vaulted up the porch steps.
Gabe was about six strides behind. He raised his weapon, positioning the flashlight below it in his supporting hand.
Ethan was headed toward the kitchen.
A quick sweep of the light showed the living room was empty.
Returning the light to Ethan, he saw the boy launch himself through the kitchen door.
A loud crash was followed by the grinding of glass.
Todd bellowed again.
Gabe reached the door. Todd had Ethan pinned on the floor, a baseball bat pressed across Ethan’s windpipe. Ethan’s feet pushed helplessly against the tile.
Maddie was on her knees beside them.
Before Gabe could go for Todd, Maddie swung a flashlight, clubbing Todd on the back of the head.
Instead of going down as Gabe expected, Todd reared up on his knees. With a feral roar, he twisted, raised the bat and started to bring it down on Maddie.
Gabe didn’t have time to utter a warning before he fired his gun.
ETHAN MADE HORRIBLE GASPING NOISES
as he scrambled to get out from under the dead weight of Todd’s legs. Madison dropped the flashlight and reached for Ethan with her good arm, moving across the broken glass on her knees.
Once she had her hand on her son, she finally heard Gabe calling to her in that beautiful voice. Then he touched her and the realization that this nightmare was finally at an end washed over her.
T
HE SHADOWS WERE LONG as the sun began to set. Madison could almost feel the darkness creeping closer, the damp chill of it lying like a cold hand on her skin. The air bag hanging like a deflated balloon from the Jeep’s dash reminded her of how close shed come to losing everything. From the passenger seat next to Gabe, she looked at her house, lights already burning although true darkness was at least an hour away. That had been Gabe’s doing, she knew. He’d made certain the power had been restored and the lights turned on before they returned.
Not that she’d confessed her dislike of darkness to him—he seemed to be particularly intuitive about her inner thoughts and feelings. She’d never had that kind of connection with anyone.
They had left this house this morning just as the sun was rising, as the promise of light kissed the morning sky. And now Gabe ensured she would not be coming home to darkness.
As she looked at the deepening purple of the evening woods, Madison realized then that she didn’t dread the dark quite as much as before—before she’d faced the worst it had to deal her. Having come through last night broken and yet still whole had shifted something inside her.
That hadn’t been her only epiphany. The stark realization that she needed both Ethan
and
Gabe had hit her hard. They were like air and water, so different and yet so necessary to sustain life. Funny, for a woman who never wanted protecting she drew surprising strength and pleasure from the fact that they both had been there fighting for her.
At the hospital, after it was all over, Ethan had admitted he’d been running away. When he’d said it, her heart nearly froze in mid-beat and her mouth had gone dry. Just the thought of losing him, even though the danger had passed, was a shock to her system. She’d known that if Ethan had left and hadn’t wanted her to find him, she probably never would.
She wrapped that cold lump of fear and put it away in a place where she could draw it out for a perspective adjustment if the frustrations of motherhood ever grew overwhelming.
Gabe assisted her out of the car and up the front steps of her house as if she were an invalid. Ethan hovered at her other side, apparently ready in case she lost all of her strength and collapsed completely. And truthfully, at the moment it wasn’t all that unlikely. Every cell in her body ached. The throb in her newly casted arm kept time with her heartbeat. The pain medication they’d given her made her head feel as if it might float away from her body—not an unwelcome prospect, considering the stiff neck and ache behind her eyes.
“I really would feel better if you two would stay at my place for a day or two,” Gabe said for the tenth time.
Madison didn’t bother to argue yet again; they were here.
Ethan had insisted on coming home. And Madison had agreed. She’d never seen any point in putting off the unpleasant; it usually got harder, not easier, to face things a person would rather not. The memory of what had transpired in their kitchen would only intensify if she didn’t walk right back in there and deal with it. She hoped she wasn’t wrong in her assumption that it was the same for Ethan. She’d be watching him closely. Before they’d left the hospital, they’d made an appointment with a counselor for next Monday.
She hesitated at the bottom step to her porch—not because of the pain, but to brace herself. Even though the crime scene had been completely processed and Todd’s body removed, in her mind’s eye she still held the picture of Ethan’s blood-spattered face as he struggled to get out from under Todd’s legs.
Ethan unlocked the front door.
The fact that it was locked seemed ludicrous, considering there was a pane broken out of the back door, which allowed anyone to stick their hand through and turn the deadbolt. Todd had been very skilled in breaking it; taping it to keep the pieces from falling to the tile floor on the inside. It made her wonder if he’d had previous experience with breaking and entering.
Not that it mattered now.
Gabe guided her toward the stairs. She resisted, looking toward the kitchen. “I need to . . . ”
It was Ethan, not Gabe, who said, “No, M.”
She looked at him, surprised.
“We need to sleep,” Ethan said. “Then we’ll deal.”
Madison looked toward Gabe. There was something in his eyes as he looked at her son. After a moment, she recognized it . . . respect. That silent nod of regard gave her a deep sense of peace.
Gabe said, “He’s right. I have to go to the office and take care of some things. You two get some sleep and I’ll be back in the morning—you can call if you need me before then.”
Madison knew the unpleasant things an officer had to do after a line-of-duty shooting. She felt sorry for Gabe. He looked every bit as exhausted as Ethan did.
With a nod, Madison allowed her two men, her two protectors, to help her up the stairs to her bedroom.
As soon as she sat down on the bed, Ethan said to Gabe, “I’ll meet you downstairs.”
Gabe plumped her pillows and took off the socks the hospital had put on over her bandaged feet. “Do you want to change?” he asked.
She shook her head, the action making her dizzy. She had on her flannel pants and Tennessee sweatshirt that Gabe had brought to her and was just too tired to change.
He lifted her legs onto the bed and pulled sheet and blanket over her. Then he kissed her gently, mindful of her cuts and bruises. “Get some rest.”
As he stood and turned to go, she reached out and snagged his hand. “Stay and talk . . . just for a minute.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed and held her hand in both of his.
She realized how selfish her request was and shook her head. “No. No. I’m sorry. You still have so much to do.” She tried to pull her hand away, but he held tight.
“I’d welcome a quiet moment,” he said, making her feel like she was doing him a favor. Instead of delving deep into emotions, he began to tell her about his house, about the trees growing in the gutters and the squirrels that kept getting into the attic, about the plans he had, and the renovations he’d already done.
Her responses were limited to tired smiles and heavy-lidded blinks. But he didn’t seem to mind. He just kept talking.
His voice invaded every pore of her skin, soothed each and every frayed nerve. It was a drug more powerful than the shot they’d given her in the hospital. She wanted to say something, to tell him how much she cared for him, but could not make her lips move.
Gabe’s deep lyrical voice flowed around her like a warm river as she sank into sleep.
THE NEXT MORNING
Gabe walked in the front door wearing a grin and holding up a red Sharpie. “Want me to sign your cast?”
Even after the hell they’d all been through, just the sight of him brought lightness to Madison’s heart. She smiled at him from the couch—where Ethan had placed her and forbidden her to move—thankful for Gabe’s touch of humor.
“Sure,” she said. “Then you can take me to the sock-hop after school.”
He’d showered and shaved and was wearing jeans and an oxford shirt, but he still looked tired. Moving to stand in front of her, he leaned forward, bracing his hands behind her on the couch. He looked in her eyes for a long moment.
“You look beautiful,” he said, then kissed her gently on the forehead.
In that sweet, smooth-talking voice of his, she could almost believe him.
Unfortunately, she’d seen herself in the mirror. The green-purple bruise on her face from her accident had been joined by welts, newly forming scabs, and what looked like a long rug burn where she’d grazed the bark of a tree. Her left arm looked equally bad, and the nurse in the ER had warned her that the scratches beneath the cast on her right were going to be itching like mad in three days.
Gabe looked up at the sounds from the kitchen. “I told him to wait for me.”
Ethan had seemed more man than boy when he’d insisted that she not go into the kitchen until he had all of the glass from the broken tabletop cleaned up.
Madison pulled Gabe down on the couch next to her. “Let him do this. He needs to.”
“I guess we all need some closure,” he said.
“How’s Kate?” she asked.
“A wreck. Bobby’s with her. They’re going to see Jordan and his doctors today—figure out the best way to tell him.”
“That poor boy. Do you think Todd being gone will help him recover?”
Gabe sighed. “Who knows how long Todd had been bullying and threatening Jordan. It might take a long while to undo the damage.”
“If it ever can be,” she added sadly.
After a moment, she said, “He admitted to me that he did it . . . Todd killed his mother.” The cold damp hand of revulsion ran down her spine.
Gabe wrapped his arm gently around her and rubbed her shoulder. Madison leaned into his warmth, wanting to banish the chill that came with the image of a boy shoving his mother down a long flight of stairs. Had he spoken to her in that detached tone he’d used on Madison? Had his mother had a moment of recognition, known her own child was a monster?
“Why?” she asked softly. “What would make a child do such a thing? He sounded so . . . dispassionate when he told me.”
“No one will ever know,” Gabe said, resting his cheek on the top of her head. “And, unless Jordan recovers and can tell us, we won’t know with certainty that he killed his father, too.”
Madison sat up straight and looked at him. “You mean you have doubts?” Good God, she’d thought this nightmare was over. If Gabe still thought someone else killed—
“No. I don’t have doubts. And I don’t have other suspects.” He gave her a pointed look. “It’d just be nice to see if we could discover what happened. I suppose we’ll never understand why—not in a way that makes sense to us rational folk.”
Madison might never get those low-spoken words out of her head.
My momma died falling down the stairs. She didn’t need to die, either.
“He was just so . . . matter of fact. He even made it sound like it was her fault.” She paused. “From what I saw, Todd McPherson was a textbook psychopath. We’ll never understand what went on in his mind.”
“That leads to the question: are psychopaths made or born?” Gabe said thoughtfully.
“I don’t think I want to know the answer,” Madison said, surprising herself with the truth of the statement. She, the woman who had to dig for all of the answers, figure out every piece of the puzzle, didn’t want to know. She wondered if Todd had broken more than her arm.
Glancing at Gabe, she could see his face was drawn with fatigue. There were deep purple circles under his eyes. “Did you sleep?”
His answer was a shrug.
“Go home,” she said. “Sleep before you fall on your face.”
His green eyes locked with hers. “As I plowed through the past twelve hours, the only thing that kept me going was the thought of seeing you. I’m not leaving anytime soon.”
“But—”
He leaned back, put his arm around her and pulled her close. “Let me do this. I need to.”
And, as the tears came, Madison realized she needed it too.
