Authors: Kylie Brant
Waking Evil 02 (51 page)
Full dark had fallen as they drove down a familiar road on the outskirts of town. “I think we need to go at him easy-like at first.” Rollins slanted her a glance. “He’s not the friendliest man at the best of times, and I’d like to see if I can get him to admit to the relationship with Sanders himself.”
“I’ll follow your lead.” At least at first. But if Biggers was unforthcoming, she was more than ready to turn up the heat.
“I called Powell on the way over here. He was pretty excited about the find. He’s on his way back first thing tomorrow mornin’.”
“Let’s hope we have something for him by then.” She looked out the window. “Where’s he live out here?”
“Just over that next knoll. He moved out of town after his wife left him. Sorta curious, for a pastor, come to think of it,” Mark said reflectively. “Most live near their church so as to be more accessible to their congregation.” He sent her a quick glance. “I’m sorta hopin’ to find him at home. I’d hate like fire to have to drag him out of some church function with witnesses all ’round to start all kinds of talk. Say what you want, but it’s my job to keep that sort of thing to a minimum.”
His voice cut off then as the car slowed. A rare obscenity escaped him.
Ramsey looked over. “What?”
“Switched vehicles with Stratton for his trip to DC because he’d been havin’ trouble with his.”
“What sort of trouble?”
Rollins stomped on the accelerator a couple times to no avail. “That kind of trouble. Shit.” He pulled over and rammed the vehicle into park, his movements jerky with frustration. “Let me see what he carries in the way of tools.”
Damn. Ramsey looked at the illuminated clock on the dash. It wasn’t like there was real urgency to get to Biggers. The man obviously wasn’t going anywhere; had every right, in fact, to believe he’d gotten away with killing Cassie Frost.
The urgency came from within. A burn to bring the offender to justice. To make him pay for this crime. And maybe to discover others he’d committed.
Mark slammed the trunk lid. When he pulled open the door and got in the Jeep again, she asked, “Are you going to be able to fix the problem?” She looked at him, and a sheet of pure ice kissed her skin.
The hand aiming the Smith & Wesson at her was steady. “Technically, Ramsey,
you’re
the problem. But I reckon I can fix you easy ’nough.”
you’re
the problem. But I reckon I can fix you easy ’nough.”
The ride back from Knoxville was a blur. Because he preferred not to think, Dev had found a classic rock station and adjusted the radio to an ear-splitting level. The distraction hadn’t totally worked, but it had been a start.
It was with a feeling of relief that he turned onto the county road leading into Buffalo Springs. The place his mama couldn’t wait to escape. The place where his daddy had lost his head and done the unspeakable.
He couldn’t say it was easier knowin’ the truth. That Jessalyn Porter had given Lucas a reason to dislike her. That an even-tempered man could be driven out of his head by events that had nothing to do with the older woman. But that had eventually led to her death anyway.
His mama was all wrapped up in the fault of that, though she’d never see it. And rather than feeling satisfied by knowing the truth, the only thing he felt was an overwhelming sadness.
He’d been ignoring the headlights that had been behind him for the last little while as he brooded. But there was no ignoring the lights in front of him. They flashed across the road, disorienting him for a minute. Had there been an accident?
Comprehension hit just a moment too late. There were two vehicles crossways in the road, blocking his path. His first thought was that neither of them were police cars.
His second thought was that one of them was a black souped-up dually.
Stomping on the brakes, he skidded around, meaning to head back the way he came, at whatever speed necessary. The day he couldn’t outrun Banty Whipple was the day he needed to hang up his car keys.
But there were two vehicles blocking his path to the east, as well. And the sides of the road were so heavily wooded, there would be no alternate route there.
As Dev fought to control the car as it skidded into another one-eighty, he thought with black humor that this night would be a fitting ending for his horseshit day.
And if the earlier pain had been emotional, at least this was something he could fight back against.
Even if it was more than likely to leave very different sorts of bruises.
The only thing that could have compelled Ramsey to enter the dark woods was the shotgun at her back. Rollins nudged her violently with it, sent her stumbling to her knees.
“Get up.”
With effort, she obeyed. He had her legs bound loosely with a zip cord. Her wrists were trussed behind her with another, making her hope of wresting control of one of his weapons a futile one.
“You’re not stupid, Rollins.” Delusional. One very sick fuck. But not stupid. “If I end up missing, how long do you think you’ll avoid scrutiny? All kinds of people saw me riding with you out of town.”
“And I can get a coupla people to swear they saw me drop you later at your motel. So you’re right ’bout one thing, Ramsey. I’m not stupid. When questioned, I’ll recollect you talkin’ ’bout the meth labs you saw out in the woods. Everyone’s goin’ to think you went out on your own to make an arrest.”
The barrel pressed against her back again, stronger this time. “That’ll be believable ’cuz the big-name forensic Mind-hunt-er,” he drawled the word sarcastically, “thinks she’s better than all the rest of us lowly law enforcement.” He grabbed her hair, bent her head back painfully. “Only you and I will know who the best cop was, won’t we Ramsey? Because it sure won’t be pieces of me that the wildlife are goin’ to be dinin’ on tonight.”
“It’s only a matter of time before Powell and Matthews put this thing together for themselves. I’ve told Powell everything about what we’ve discovered.”
“I know exactly what you’ve told Powell. I gave him a call before I picked you up, remember? ’Fraid I let somethin’ slip ’bout you spendin’ too much energy worryin’ ’bout the meth activity we got goin’ on ’round here. Sorta primed the pump, you might say. And when Stratton gets back with the evidence from the DC cop, evidence he’s goin’ to switch, well . . . the hair won’t match the one found in Frost’s apartment. And your ideas will be discredited all ’round.”
A stick cracked beneath her foot. The woods surrounding them seemed unnaturally quiet. “You are smarter than I gave you credit for, Rollins.” It was an effort to imbue her words with sarcasm when panic was doing a fast sprint up her spine. “Of course, that’s not saying much. But giving credit where it’s due, I’m guessing you got away with murder at least twice now. Once in DC, and once with Cassie Frost. That takes a bit of intelligence.”
One minute she was upright, and the next he’d tripped her and her face was pressed in the dirt. His booted foot was on her back. “Damn right it does. And I’d like to tell you all ’bout just how smart I am. But more than that, I’d like to show you.” The rifle barrel caressed a cool path over her cheek. “Because if there was ever a woman who needed spiritual cleansing, it’s you.”
Inhaling the damply sweet scent of decay, Ramsey fought to push back terror. “And to think I never realized just how special you were. Rufus Ashton’s disciple. Purifying the world one woman at a time.”
“But you know it now.” He reached for her and dragged her upright by her hair until she was in a standing position again. Then he gave her a push forward. “Rufus Ashton was a prophet. His mistake was believin’ there was a place in this country that was sinless ’nough to embrace his teachin’s. His congregation might’ve scattered at his death, his secrets buried with him, but his true believers have flourished in secret. Your disappearance would be hard to explain, so your death has to be different. No one will ever connect you to Frost.” He made a sound of amusement. “Or the last one.”
The last one? Ramsey seized on the words. There’d been another victim, and they hadn’t even realized it?
He yanked her to a stop. Strode a few paces away to kick at some leaves at the base of a rock pile. “Here we go. Meth heads can always be counted on to leave their shit behind when they move on.”
A dull sort of horror bloomed. She knew exactly how dangerous abandoned labs could be.
“Where is it? Put it here myself the other night.”
“What are we looking for? Your conscience?”
He was quicker than she’d expected. The rifle barrel caught her across the side of her head, sending her to her knees again. Had her blinking dazedly at the yellow eyes staring out from beneath the shadowy bush.
“You won’t bait me,” he said silkily, hauling her up to a standing position. She swayed as he continued, “It’s the Lord’s will to be done here. My human inclinations cannot supersede his plan for you.”
He shoved her over to face a massive tree trunk. She heard him rummaging in the backpack he wore. “Someone made off with the anhydrous I stashed here, so you’ll have to wait a while. But when I get back with more, I’m gonna fix it so it blows you to hell.”
“Good to know,” she said between gritted teeth. If she didn’t clench them tightly, they’d be chattering, and she was damned if she’d give him the satisfaction of hearing the sound of her fear. “I like to be able to plan my evening.”
He gave a short laugh. “Always the smart-ass.” She felt him work at the bonds on her wrists. “Maybe the red mist will take care of you so I don’t have to. Choke the life right out of you.” He slipped another zip cord through the one binding her hands, and then continued stringing more together until it circled the tree. Then he secured it tightly.
She felt him searching her jacket pocket. Draw out her cell phone. There was a crunch followed by a rustle, and she could only assume he’d destroyed it before tossing the pieces.
“I won’t be long. Spend the time repentin’ your sins, Ramsey. ‘For this is the time of the Lord’s vengeance.’ ”
“I’m going to spend the time thinking of a way to cut your balls off and feed them to you.”
She felt his hand in her hair, yanking her head back before slamming it forward against the tree trunk. Pain rocketed through her skull.
And then everything went black.
“Welcome to the party.” Banty Whipple grinned at Dev as he got down out of the cab of his shiny dually. He held a short club in his hands, tapping one end lightly against his palm. “Holdin’ it in your honor. It’d be a shame for you to miss it, right boys?”
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