Weak Flesh (34 page)

Nolan stood and looked down at her. "Now, let's start at the beginning." He nudged the pack toward her. "Put on the clean clothing inside, wash yourself properly, comb your hair and brush your teeth."

She tried to make her voice sound less challenging. "Why? Why do you want me to – to prepare myself?"

A sly expression crossed his face. "You know why, Miss Bailey. There's only one thing a woman is good for." He smiled and backed toward the opening, the pistol dangling from his hand.

#

Dr. Bailey snapped his fingers. "That's where I remember the name – Joseph Carpenter." He glanced at the ugly black and white flyer. "Carpenter was a Klan member back in the forties and fifties, got himself quite a reputation for violence and general mayhem before he died."

"Can't be Nolan, then," Gage said. "He's too young."

"Yes." The doctor pulled at his mustache. "I seem to recall there was a son, though, a young boy Carpenter dragged around on his Klan business, burning houses, destroying crops."

"Maybe this birth certificate is for Joseph, Jr.," Pruitt offered.

"The robes in the chest mean something to Nolan," Dr. Bailey suggested. "If he's not a member himself, maybe these belonged to his father."

"Interesting speculation," Gage said, "but it's no more than guessing, and it doesn't get us any closer to Meghan."

Dr. Bailey glanced down at the documents he'd laid on the table. "Damn, I nearly forgot these." He picked up the bundle and opened them one at a time. "These are deeds to property that Oliver Nolan or his wife owns."

Gage leaned over the table and examined them. "They're not all in the name of Nolan." He picked up the last one. "Here's a deed for land in Nevada owned by Aaron Sharpe."

"This one's in the name of Joseph Carpenter, property in Kentucky," added Pruitt. "And Aaron Sharpe again, this time in Virginia."

"Let's see if Nolan's got property close to Tuscarora City," Gage said, dividing up the remaining documents among the three of them. "If he or his wife owns property around here, that's where he's taken Meghan. I'd stake my life on it."

Her life too, he thought, as terror settled in his gut like an anvil.

#

She did what he instructed. Using the now cold water and rag, she washed herself properly, teeth chattering as she stood naked in the shack. She worked quickly, donning the fresh clothes she found in the second bag – women's underclothing this time, frilly articles that made her feel uneasy. Wrapping the silken robe around her, she wondered where she could hide her weapons this time.

She understood exactly what he was trying to make her into with this inappropriate apparel.

She brushed her hair until her head ached. At the bottom of the sack she found pots of face creams – lotions, tints – all in bright, garish colors. Even though she applied them sparingly, she felt like the loose woman he proclaimed her.

She knew better. Oliver Nolan might say all women were whores, but she suspected beneath all the bluster he wanted one who looked like a lady.

After a moment's thought, she pinned her hair loosely on the top of her head and armed herself to meet a monster.

#

In the end the location of Nolan's property was surprisingly transparent. Gage wanted to kick himself in the ass for not realizing so earlier. Nolan would want a spot both close and distant, both private and public.

What better place than the Great Dismal Swamp? With the dozens upon dozens of shacks hidden among winding, overgrown trails deep in the heart of the thousands of acres of marshy land, the noisy logging area was perfect for a man with Nolan's dark proclivities.

The property deed and an outdated map provided by Dr. Bailey gave Gage and Pruitt a fair estimate of where Nolan's property, less than an acre, was located. The good doctor was desperate not to be left behind, but Gage kept his voice steady, calm, reassuring. This was a task for younger men, a mere hour's ride by horseback, but a rigorous one.

Dr. Bailey reluctantly agreed to allow the Marshal and his deputy to ride ahead with all haste, but insisted he'd follow in his horse and buggy. "One of you will surely need my services."

Suddenly the cool, reliable doctor took over the fearful father, and his hands were steady as he prepared his medical bag to follow in their wake.

Gage prayed they'd reach Meghan before she needed medical attention. Prayed Nolan hadn't ... no, if he thought of it, he'd be no good to her.

#

More than the glazed look in his eyes, Meghan recognized the madness in Oliver Nolan by his incessant talking. He seemed bent on convincing her that he was a perfect gentleman, not a bad man, but rather, one caught up by the inadequacies of others.

He'd brought a bedroll of some sort, which he spread out in the corner opposite where she waited. Dressed quite dandily in a handsome suit and polished shoes, he presented a well turned out figure. He removed his hat and sat on the floor in front of her.

"I see you've followed my instructions," he said, his eyes aflame with desire as they took in the low décolletage of her robe. "You look lovely. That color suits you."

Meghan thought she looked rather like a prostitute, but wisely refrained from saying so. Instead she simpered, although she'd never knowingly done so in her life. "Thank you, Mr. Nolan."

"You may call me Aaron," he said slyly, "Aaron Sharpe."

She couldn't keep astonishment from her voice. "Not Oliver Nolan? I don't understand."

"Of course you don't." His smile was patronizingly gentle as he traced a finger down her cheek.

She flinched although she didn't jerk away. "I'd like to hear about Aaron Sharpe," she whispered, leaning in to give him a full view of the swell of her breasts. "I'd like to know who he is."

Her clumsy attempt at seduction appeared to confuse him. Having no experience in such machinations, she felt sure he would see through her phony interest, but amazingly he didn't. Surely that demonstrated how crazy the man was.

The tale he related was a frightening one – of a childhood dark with violence and unrestrained aggression. Of the women he'd used, some horribly so, and of a wicked desire for evil that unnerved her so she couldn't help shrinking back into the corner.

"Don't look so horrified, Meghan. Most men harbor such passions and pleasures, such fantasies and enjoyments."

He laughed harshly. "Your beloved Marshal – Tucker Gage – he's served in the Army, out West where conditions are ferocious. Do you think he hasn't killed? Hasn't enjoyed the taking of a life? Having that kind of power is as great as sexual release."

She couldn't contain herself any longer. Jumping up, she pushed with all her might against his chest. Nolan – or Aaron Sharpe – this evil man fell backward, the attack unexpected.

"Liar!" she shouted while he scrambled to his feet. "You don't know Tucker Gage. He's not an animal like you!"

Although she couldn't reach the belt buckle which she'd tucked in the back of her fancy drawers, she managed to reach inside her robe and retrieve one of the nails. As Nolan grabbed her left wrist in a vicious twist, she swung around and connected with his cheek, dragging the nail downward in a deep gash from the corner of his eye to his mouth.

He released her immediately and howled in pain. "You goddamn whore! You treacherous bitch!" He dabbed at the cut with his handkerchief, trying to staunch the blood that flowed freely down his face.

With his fist he aimed a hard blow that glanced off her jaw and sent her reeling back against the wall. Her robe gaped open and her legs sprawled gracelessly.

"I was going to make this pleasant for you, but now I'm just going to fuck you and then kill you." He narrowed his eyes and grinned through the blood on his face. "Maybe both at the same time."

He reached for her, hooked his arm around her waist and tossed her onto the bedroll in the corner. Her head reeled in pain, blood seeped from the corner of her mouth, and one side of her face grew numb.

Sheer terror paralyzed for a moment. Then the hard press of the brass buckle against her back reminded her to fight back. She groped for it, but couldn't reach it.

Like an angry bull, Aaron Sharpe fell upon her.

Chapter 38

Gage and Pruitt lost little time pinpointing the property specified in the land deed in the name of Aaron Sharpe. Located deep off the normal trails and paths that wound through the Dismal Swamp, several shacks sat in a semicircle at the western perimeter.

Their isolation from other cabins made them easy to find. They'd fallen into general disrepair, clear lack of upkeep giving them a forlorn and deserted air. Ideal, Gage surmised, for keeping and disposing of Sharpe's victims. He wondered briefly if the man had kept Nell Carter here before finally murdering her.

Gage and Pruitt approached each shack carefully.

They eliminated the first one even though Gage knew by the broken pine boards and sprung hinges that Meghan wasn't kept there. Although the second one appeared more secure, it had several boarded-up windows and Gage didn't think Nolan would find much use for it. They checked anyway.

The bolted latch secured to the outside sent an ominous shiver through Gage. Had it been used at one time for keeping someone inside, rather than strangers out?

Pruitt displayed heretofore unknown skills when he examined the lock and reached inside his jacket to retrieve a metal tool to pick it. "Really, Pruitt?" Gage whispered. "I had no idea you were such a clever boy."

With pistols drawn, they'd just entered the room, one on either side of the door frame, when a blood-curdling shriek sent Gage's heart thundering like a herd of cattle gone amok. There was no mistaking Meghan's scream.

Hurrying to the third and last shack, no longer worried about making noise – hell, he'd bring down Olympus if Meghan were there – they reached the cabin at the same time another shrill sound emanated from within, accompanied by a definitely masculine howl.

#

The first kick was poorly aimed and glanced off Nolan's thigh, but lifting her knee, Meghan managed to connect the second blow with Nolan's groin. He doubled over, clutching himself.

"Take that, you bastard." Panting heavily, she scrambled on hands and knees away from the bedroll.

She groped around her body for the brass buckle that'd slid past her hips. She managed to reach it with her fingertips when Nolan landed heavily on her back, knocking the breath out of her.

The brass buckle dug into the fleshy part of her palm as she gasped for air and felt his heavy bulk straddling her. He ripped at the flimsy satin of the robe. While she struggled to throw him off, trying not to let go of her only weapon, she felt Nolan grip the lace of her undergarments and heard the tear, felt the exposure of her naked back and buttocks.

"You'll pay for this," he wheezed as he flipped her over onto her back.

Bending over her, he tried to cover her mouth with his as she twisted to avoid him. However, he seemed more interested in punishing her than kissing her, giving her breast a vicious squeeze that brought tears to her eyes.

As he fumbled between their bodies in an effort to release himself, sudden panic paralyzed her. Resistance fled for an instant until she felt his rough hands groping between her leg, and then fury rumbled through her. She wouldn't be another of his weak victims.

The buckle still clutched in her hand, she moved her arm down to her side, then swung it upward with as much force as she could manage. Terribly afraid that wouldn't be enough, she struck again.

Nolan loosened his grip on her and clutched the side of his head where blood gushed from his temple. She knew head wounds were notoriously bloody, however, and didn't count on her blow  disabling him for very long.

She was right.

With eyes blazing and teeth barred like a mad dog, Sharpe abandoned his sexual interest in her and wrapped his massive hands around her throat, pressing the thumbs down on her windpipe. God, he'd choke her to death! His complexion turned purple, his eyes drenched with blood from the head wound, and his image faded as her vision began to dim.

#

Channeling all their strength into their shoulders, Gage and Pruitt attacked the door. It shook slightly, but held. They tried a second time with no luck.

"Move back," Gage ordered as he stood at an angle and shot the lock off its fastening.

They burst through the door at the same time. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, what Gage saw filled him with fury. "Take your filthy hands off her," he shouted from the doorway.

Nolan – or Aaron Sharpe, Gage was now convinced of the man's true identity – was quicker and far more wily than he'd anticipated. Even as they burst through the door, the man jabbed a deadly looking knife into the tender flesh at Meghan's neck. Her eyes were closed, but Gage detected the rapid rise and fall of her breasts – bare and showing angry red welts and the first signs of ugly bruising.

As Pruitt edged closer, Gage gestured for him to stand down. He forced a calmness into his voice he was far from feeling. "It's over. Put the knife down, Nolan. Or should I say Aaron Sharpe?"

Sharpe's head snapped up, but the fire hadn't gone out of his eyes. He dragged Meghan into a sitting position, shielding himself with her body. Her eyes fluttered wildly and then opened, showing that lovely green color as she stared at Gage. She blinked furiously as if forcing herself to action.

Staggering to his feet, Sharpe kept the knife pressed hard against Meghan's artery. A fine trickle of blood made its way down her neck to her bare breast. She seemed unaware of her nakedness.

She'd be irate at her state of dishabille, Gage thought irrelevantly as he watched the life come back into her face. When she fully recovered, she'd have plenty to say.

An unspoken message passed between them.

"It's over," Gage repeated.

Pruitt slowly made his way around the perimeter of the room. No doubt he intended to jump Sharpe while Gage distracted him. It wouldn't work. Gage recognized the look on Sharpe's face. He'd seen it enough in battle on the faces of men who'd succumbed to the blood lust of war.