Brush With Death (14 page)

E
mma pulled her
car to the curb and I tried to ignore Simon’s arm across her shoulders.  We had
decided to car pool, leaving Cal’s truck and Simon’s motorcycle back at the Wakefield
Park and Ride.  As we came to a stop, my stomach fluttered.  Hopefully one more
car on the busy street would go unnoticed.

Turning away from Emma and Simon, I looked out the side
window.  We were parallel parked directly across the street from the apartment
complex where residents had called in reports of a wailing cat.  Sansborough
was a former mill town and we were in an old downtown section where Victorian
homes with gingerbread trim sat like fancy debutantes beside stark brick
buildings, shabby gas stations, and vacant warehouses.

The apartment complex was a five story modern structure with
cheery yellow clapboard siding and small weathered balconies covered in lawn
chairs and potted plants.   A chain link fence encircled a small lot to the
right of the building where large signs proclaimed parking for tenants only. 
An alley ran alongside the apartments to the left.

Squatting in the shadows of the alley was a van, its back
doors facing the road.  And painted across those doors was a familiar sunburst
symbol.

I rubbed my eyes and looked again.  Nope, not a hallucination
brought on from wishful thinking.  We had found the sunburst symbol from the
card left at the burial site—a logo for Bright Star Photography.

“You all see that, right?” I asked. 

Emma sucked in a breath and Cal squeezed my hand.

“That sign is displaying a suspiciously familiar looking
symbol,” Simon said.

Sign?  I looked away from the alley to examine the building
beside the van.  From a wrap-around porch hung a wooden sign announcing Bright
Star Photography on the same sunburst background as the van.

“We are definitely at the right place,” Emma said.

The photography studio sat behind a white picket fence.  The
studio had once been a home, but the house, like many buildings on this street,
had been converted into a business.  I wondered if the Grabber lived in the
rooms above.  I looked for signs of life in the dormer windows, but nothing
moved behind the white lace curtains.

“This place is creepy,” I said.  “Knowing the Grabber works
here…it’s like Leave It To Beaver meets the Mansons.”

“You’d prefer the Addams Family?” Simon asked.

“Hells yes,” I said.  “This place looks like someone’s grandmother’s
house.  The kind who bakes cookies and hands out candy apples at Halloween—the
ones
without
razor blades.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Cal said.

“You got that right,” Emma said.  She shook her head then
froze.  Her lips parted and she leaned forward.  “Yuki, didn’t you say your
ghost smelled like lanolin?”

“Yeah, the rose smell is strongest and the chemical smell
burns my nose, but there’s a hint of lanolin,” I said.  “You know, like that
sweater my mom made when she was going through her knitting phase.”

“I told you not to wear it in the rain,” Emma said with a
snort.  “Well, I think I know why your ghost smells like that.”

“You do?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said, pointing.  “The store on the corner of that
brick building, just past the picket fence, is a yarn shop.  Their sign says
they specialize in all natural, handspun yarns.”

“Like the yarn my mom used to make that sweater,” I said.

“The kind that smells like sheep,” Emma said.

*****

Locating the Grabber’s lair was exciting.  Waiting around
looking for an excuse to call the cops was not.  For the gazillionth time, I
sighed.

“Why can’t we just go in there and storm the castle?” I
asked, waving my hand toward the studio.

“This isn’t one of your role playing games,” Simon said. 
Was that a sneer?  Gah, that guy made me crazy.  “We can’t just blaze into
someone’s home or business, in broad daylight, on Main Street.”

“Senility kicking in already?” I asked.  “We’re not on Main
Street, old man.  This is Sheridan Street.”

“Semantics,” he said.  “And I am not old.  I’m mature, like
a fine wine.”

“Oh my God you two,” Emma said.  She squeezed her eyes shut
and clenched her fists.  “Shut. Up.”

“Maybe Yuki and I should take a walk around the block,” Cal
said.  “We can pick up snacks somewhere, and get a chance to look at things
from a different vantage point.”

And the walk would get me out of kicking distance from
Simon.  Good thinking.  I was ready to stomp all over his fancy clothes with my
dirty boots, while he was still wearing them.  Seriously, if there was a Hell,
it would be me trapped for eternity in a small space with Simon.

“Go,” Emma said.  “We’ll keep watch.”

I jumped out of the car faster than you can say “flying
monkeys” and skipped over to where Cal waited on the sidewalk.  He reached for
my hand and I let out a huge breath as we started walking away from Emma’s car.

“Better?” Cal asked.  His thumb brushed circles along the
sensitive skin on my wrist.

“Much better,” I said, briefly bowing my head.  “How do you
live with him?”

“Simon?” he asked.  “He’s not so bad, once you get past the
cocky posturing and his tendency to hog the bathroom mirror.”

“Too bad we couldn’t turn him into a vampire,” I said.  “Creatures
of the night can’t see their reflection.  Simon would totally freak.”

Cal snorted.

We continued to walk along Sheridan Street, discreetly
stealing glances at Bright Star Photography.  It killed me that we couldn’t
just barge in there looking for signs of Sarah Randall.  My chest felt tight as
I imagined her tied up in one of those rooms.

“So what are we waiting for exactly?” I asked.

“For the guy to do something suspicious that we can report
to the police,” he said.  “He doesn’t know we’re watching him, so hopefully
he’ll make a mistake.”

“What if he does something and there’s no time for the
police,” I asked.

“Then Simon and I go in and help the girl,” he said.  Cal
stopped, feet firmly planted, and tipped my chin up so that my eyes met his. 
“But if that happens, I want you to promise me that you and Emma will stay in
the car.”

“But why?” I asked.  “We can help.”

“Because this guy is dangerous,” he said.  “Neither of you
have werewolf healing.  Plus, Simon and I won’t be able to concentrate on
saving Sarah Randall if we’re worrying about you.”

“Oh,” I said.  “Okay, fine, but if you rescue her, we’re
helping once she’s in the car.”

“You do know there’s a chance it’s too late,” Cal said,
squeezing my hand.

Tears welled up, making me feel foolish.

“Of course I do,” I said.

But really, I hadn’t let myself think about it.  We would
find Sarah Randall alive.  We just had to.

E
mma woke with
a choking gasp beside me.  It was getting dark and we’d started taking naps and
going for food in shifts.  I had settled in for a long wait.

“It’s alright, love,” I said.  “Nothing’s happened.”

Emma tilted her head back against the head-rest and sighed.

“Stakeouts are b-o-r-i-n-g,” Yuki said from the back seat. 
“On TV this guy would have done something incriminating in, like, thirty
seconds.”

“That is because of the insufficient attention span of the
average viewer,” I said, looking pointedly at Yuki.

She crossed her arms and harrumphed, stomping her foot on the
floorboards.

“Patience young Padawan,” Cal said. 

“I really do not understand you two,” I said, shaking my
head.

“Wait,” Emma said.  “Look.”

A beam of light cut across the alley as someone at the
photography studio opened a side door and poked their head outside. 

“Is that the Grabber?” Yuki whispered.

No one else dared break the silence that hung thick in the
car.  I held my breath, muscles coiled and ready to strike.  If anyone
threatened Emma, they’d soon regret it.

Motion in the alley broke me from my protective thoughts.  A
tall man went to the driver’s side of the van and, after looking up and down
the alley, opened the door.  Stepping onto the running boards he leaned in and
started the engine.  As soon as the engine roared, he jumped back down and
hurried to the rear of the van.

The man looked sinister in the red glow of the tail lights. 
He looked to be of average weight, but was tall, approximately six foot five.  Shadows
played along the alley, giving the man a reed thin evil twin who danced
maniacally across the walls.

I shifted my focus from the shadows, to the man himself.  Even
with my enhanced vision it was difficult to tell his age from this distance,
but at a guess, I’d say he was in his fifties.  He wore a dress shirt, but had
pulled large hiking boots on over his khaki pants.  Opening the rear doors of
the van, he pulled out a rain parka which he slipped over his head. 

Darting glances toward the road, he withdrew yellow rubber
gloves from the pockets and pulled those on as well.  He spread a sheet of
plastic across the floor of the van and used a long-handled shovel to weigh it
down.  On the other side of the plastic, he set a backpack to keep the sheeting
in place.

The backpack was covered in pink and yellow daisies.

“I know that not every man has my impeccable sense of fashion,
but I don’t think that backpack is his,” I said, stifling a growl.  “And those
boots?  I would swear he was a loafer man.”

“All the more reason to think he’s twisted,” Yuki said. 
“Loafers are evil.”

“Oh my God, you guys,” Emma said.  “I think he’s getting rid
of her.”

“Yes, it’s time we end this,” Calvin said.  “It’s too late
to call the police.

Calvin was right.  We had waited all day for the man to do
something and now that his behavior was overtly suspicious, it was too late to
wait for backup.  If we left this to the authorities, Sarah Randall would be
dead.

In fact, she may be already.

I growled, allowing my wolf to surface.  If anyone looked
into my face now, they’d see the predatory gaze and terrifying fangs of a
wolf.  Good.  I wanted this monster to know fear.  I wanted him to feel the same
kind of terror he inflicted on his victims.

“Stay in the car, love,” I said.  I brushed Emma’s arm, not
daring to squeeze her hand.  I wanted to reassure her, not break her fingers.

“You too,” Calvin said, turning to Yuki.  “No matter what
happens.  If something goes wrong, call the cops and drive away from here.”

“I’m not leaving Simon,” Emma said.  She had the steering
wheel in a white-knuckled grip.

“He’s right,” I said.  “Stay in the car.  But don’t worry, we
won’t be but a moment.  You won’t even have time to miss us.”

With a signal from Calvin, I lunged from the car and raced
toward the alley.  In the brief moment while we had talked, the man had ducked
back inside the building.  He now carried a struggling form. 

I held up my hand, motioning for Calvin to wait.  It
wouldn’t do to have the man drop the girl.  She was covered with a wool
blanket, but I saw a flash of feet bound together.  Her hands were probably
bound as well.  If she fell, she’d have no way to shield her fall.

We crouched in the shadows, waiting for our chance to
strike.

The man closed the short distance from the building to the
van and roughly shoved the girl onto the plastic sheeting.  He raised one hand
to close the rear doors of the van and paused to gloat over his handy work.

That pause would be his undoing.

T
here was
something ridiculous about the man wearing bright rubber gloves like my mom
uses while washing dishes.  A laugh bubbled up and I clapped a hand over my
mouth. 
Get a grip.

As Cal and Simon ghosted across the street, melting into the
shadows, the Grabber stepped back inside the open photography studio door.  A
moment later, he returned carrying a large, blanket wrapped bundle.  Something,
or rather someone, struggled beneath the blanket.

I felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach, knocking
all the wind out of my lungs and making bile rise in my throat.  A pair of
bound ankles swung out from the blanket and I let out a high pitched mew.

“It’s alright, Yuki,” Emma whispered.  “Cal and Simon will
save her.”

But it wasn’t alright.   It felt like nothing would be right
again.  My lungs tightened further and beads of cold sweat rolled down my
back. 

The Grabber tossed the bundle into the back of the van, like
discarded trash.  But the bundle wasn’t trash, it was Sarah Randall. 

Sarah was tied at the wrists and ankles with rope that shone
white against her dark jeans and long sleeved t-shirt.  Thank the gods for
small favors—she was fully clothed. 

Emma’s car felt like a coffin.  I struggled for breath and
my hands fisted.  I needed to get out of the car.  I had to save that girl.

I swore while bound in that supply closet that if given the
chance, I’d never let that happen to anyone again.  I wouldn’t allow bullies to
hurt another kid from my school.  Graduation may be around the corner, but I
had one more victim to save.

I burst from the car and into the street.

Light came from nowhere and I heard the squeal of tires on
pavement.  I’d run into the street uncaring for my own safety.  I had been so
focused on rescuing the girl from her bonds, that I’d dashed into the road
without looking.

Lesson learned; always look both ways when crossing the
street.  I’d remember that, if I survived the night.

My body flew through the air to land hard on the pavement. 
The road felt warm against my face, still holding the heat of the day.

So many small details became vivid in that one moment. 
Sarah Randall was missing a shoe—the one bare foot shaking as she cried. 
Simon’s fury as he slammed the Grabber against the ground.  The cloying scent
of roses as Rose Peterson’s ghost witnessed her revenge and waited for me to
guide her into the light.  Would I be joining her?  I really did feel awful.

Then everything else was eclipsed by the blue of Cal’s eyes
as he hovered over me.

“Cal,” I said.  A cough wracked my body.

“Don’t try to talk,” Cal said.  “Emma’s coming, and I called
an ambulance.”

“I’m…sorry,” I said.  I felt a traitorous tear escape and
run down into my hair.  I didn’t want to cry.  “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said. 

Cal squeezed my hand and Emma’s blond hair came into view.

“If you live through this, I swear I’m going to kill you,”
she said.