Merkaba, a supernatural suspense series (Walk the Right Road, Book 3) (6 page)

It was her father who spoke first: “So, my daughter says you were the one to get Brian off her.” Patrick stuck out his hand to shake the other man’s, but Harriet moved quickly in front of her husband and slapped his hand down.

“Do not touch him; do not offer your hand. He’s no hero.”

Alecia stared at her mother. She’d never seen her behave in such a way. Dan had taken a step back and crossed his arms in front of him.

Harriet jabbed a finger toward him. “I saw you before you came here. My daughter is not for you. You can’t have her.”

“What are you talking about? I saw she was in trouble, and I just tried to help.”

This time, Alecia realized she had overlooked something. How had Dan seen she was in trouble, and why had he burst into her room? “You were watching me, weren’t you?” she said.

Her father darted his gaze between Dan and Alecia, and then he stepped forward to shield Alecia from the other man.

Dan had the good grace to flush. “Well, you should be thankful that I was. I actually followed you and was on my way up to your room when I heard you scream, and then there was a crash. I got the maid who was two doors down, wide eyed and terrified, to give me the key to open it, and what I saw was a monster whose only intent was to kill you. He had no intention of leaving.”

“I remember what you said to me. What was it? It takes a snake to know one.”

He smiled and then frowned. “What I said was that it takes a snake to recognize one. A snake has fangs with poison—it’s inside him. Some snakes have poison, and some don’t. Just ask your mother here.”

Dan focused all his intention on Harriet, who stood unwavering and silent and filled with an anger that Alecia hadn’t felt in a long time.

“You bring out the worst in me. We all have the ability to channel that darkness, but when you practice it, bringing it in again and again, it takes over you. And you cast it well, or you did, but there is something not quite right, I’d say. What happened?” Harriet asked.

Alecia was watching the two of them, Dan and her mother, as if they were the only two in the area. She glanced up at her father, and he clamped on his stony mask, the one that didn’t give her a clue as to what he was thinking or what he was about to do.

“Dad.” She touched his arm and could feel his muscles bunched.

“Alecia, you let your mom talk,” he said in his thick Irish brogue.

Dan, for the first time since she had met him, flushed and cast his eyes downward, and he clicked his tongue. The man had the gall to stall while speaking to her mother, of all people.

Harriet swept her hand in front of her to let him know she was done with him, and she turned her back on him. “We have no time for this. Please go.”

Dan—Alecia would swear it—had physically jumped. He took one step back, then another. “Look, I met a shaman down in South America, so I ran back here.”

This time, Harriet turned around and sprinkled tobacco from her pouch in front of Dan. She lit sage and held it in front of her, burning it and wafting the smoke toward him.

“Alecia, shamans are very powerful, and they know how to channel energy, but it’s their choice whether that power is used for good or evil, and it takes one to recognize one. This man before you was born with that power, but he was born into a family shrouded in darkness, so he channels only that. Shamans are able to communicate with and command spirits. Those who choose to become shamans are not as powerful as those who are recruited and trained. Shamans travel through spiritual realms and should only act to benefit communities.” She flicked her hand toward Dan. “This shaman he speaks of was powerful enough to detect what he’s been doing, to see the darkness of the spirits he’s been using for his own benefit, out of greed, selfishness, everything that isn’t love. He is practicing black magic, which is easy and requires little effort.”

Harriet didn’t look at Dan but over his shoulder, instead. “Kind of turned your entire universe upside down, didn’t he? What was easy for you, focusing that bad energy, is all messed up now, backfiring on you, working against you. Things are coming undone. Money’s jammed up, and you have problems in business, with your personal life, yet you still don’t get it. You’re to cleanse yourself of the evil that you brought into this life with you. I see you for what you are, for what you chose. You’ve had generations to master your power with no interference, but no more. We are now in a time where balance will be brought back to the universe. I must ask you to leave.”

“Now, hang on a second, Harriet. I want to know more about what he saw of Brian, and I just bet he knows where that monster went.” Patrick had been quiet, listening as his wife spoke, until now.

Dan glanced at Harriet, maybe for permission. Alecia wasn’t sure what to do, as she hadn’t seen this side of her mother before.

“I don’t know where he went. He ran, and I heard a car squealing away. I didn’t see him when I left.”

“A man who runs before the police get there has something to hide. So what is it, boy?”

Dan flinched when Patrick barked, and he shook his head, this time backing away and hurrying to the path.

Alecia didn’t know what to make of it, but her mother did, as she turned to Alecia and said, “You forgive too easily. He was counting on that.”

Chapter 15

Alecia lay down on the pullout sofa when they returned to her motel room, relinquishing the very comfortable king-size bed in the bedroom to her parents. Her mother was resting there now.

Alecia ached, which was most likely why she was so tired, as it was hard to relax, let alone fall asleep, when she wasn’t comfortable. Her head throbbed, too, but she didn’t want to take anything. She could, of course, ask her mother to go down and get her some aspirin, but she realized that maybe she needed the pain to remind her of what she’d allowed into her life.

Patrick had left and waited outside the door until they’d closed it with the security lock to prevent anyone from coming in. He had said he had an errand to run, but the way he said it let Alecia know that it was more likely he was going out to track Brian down.

Alecia grabbed another pillow and propped it up behind her. The sofa squeaked.

“Alecia,” her mother called from the bedroom, “I know you’re not asleep. Come on in here.”

She was a grown woman and was unnerved by how much she needed her mother. So she eased off the bed, mindful of her aching head, and slipped onto the king-size bed beside Harriet.

“Roll over, and I’ll rub your back.”

She did as her mother asked, propping a pillow under her head. Her mother sat up and rubbed her back over the thin t-shirt.

“You looked quite befuddled on the way back,” Harriet said.

Alecia didn’t respond. She shut her eyes, and her mother continued as if she didn’t need a response.

“There is a cycle of abuse that continues down the line, and I saw it with you. I struggled so long in my hurt from what I survived, and I still am, but you’ve taken it on. You were born into it. Although I love you, as parents, we sometimes don’t know the harm we’re causing our children. For how long did you make excuses for Brian as he beat away all your self-confidence, your self-worth? You hid from us, and I knew deep down. I just didn’t admit it until you landed in the hospital and could no longer lie the injury away. Your father never gave you the chance. Bless him, he should have killed Brian. I know he wanted to. We all underestimated him. We thought your father had scared him away for good. Apparently, he was just lying in wait for you. Make no mistake, he did this to get back at your father, at me, because we interfered.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Alecia said. “It was mine. I didn’t understand how he could change. I loved him. It kind of just snuck up on me, and it was easier to make excuses than to admit I was wrong.” Alecia never turned to face her mother. “Brian is trying to kill me, isn’t he?”

Her mother’s hand stilled on her back. “Yes, he is. That kind of hate in a person has only one outcome: destruction.”

Chapter 16

“I want to know what you are doing to find Brian McCormick.” Patrick refused to be brushed off by the desk clerk behind the glass at the Sequim detachment.

“Sir, if you’ll leave your name and number, I’ll have one of the officers on the case contact you.” The man behind the glass partition wore a black uniform and sported a very thick mustache.

“No, I would like to know the name of the officer investigating, and then I’ll wait. So please don’t try to brush me off.” Patrick didn’t move and refused to leave as he glared at the officer behind the glass, who finally sighed before pulling open a drawer and rifling through papers.

“When was the date of the offence?” the man asked with little emotion.

“It was yesterday, and it was attempted murder.”

The officer frowned and dug through the papers before pulling out a file. “What I have is a report of a domestic dispute, not attempted murder.” The desk clerk frowned, sliding his chair back, and then glanced around Patrick. “Hey, Diane, do you have a second for this guy?”

A female cop had just come in the front door. “Sure, what’s up?” she said.

“This gentleman is asking about that domestic disturbance yesterday at the motel.”

Patrick crossed his arms and glared at the guy behind the glass, wanting to set him straight. He expected the same brush-off from the lady, but she frowned and leaned on the counter next to him.

“Can I help you?” She gazed at Patrick.

“I’m the father of Alecia, the victim. Her mother and I flew in, and I want to know what’s going on, what leads you have to track down Brian. And my big question is why it’s labeled as a domestic disturbance when he had every intention of killing her.”

Dian’s eyes widened, and she straightened. “George, open the door,” she said. The guy behind the glass pushed a button, and the door that led into the station buzzed. Diane pulled the door open. “Follow me.”

Patrick followed the short, solid cop, who was dressed casually in blue jeans and a jean jacket. She led him to a sterile office in back and shut the door. There was a table with chairs, and he looked around, wondering if the door was locked.

Diane had a file that Patrick hadn’t noticed in her hands. She pulled a small notebook from her pocket and flipped it open. She glanced up and over at the chair across from her. “Sit down. I get nervous when angry fathers hover over me.”

Patrick pulled out the chair, a ways back, and sat, stretching his long, jean-clad legs out in front of him. “Tell me, why are you labeling this a domestic disturbance when that bastard tried to kill my daughter?”

She sat up straight and pressed her back into the chair. She glanced toward the door and pressed her lips together, appearing annoyed. “Unfortunately, this is the policy when a spouse beats up his partner. It’s viewed as domestic assault, and it wasn’t my call.” She glanced down at her notes, avoiding eye contact.

He knew she was hiding something. “Let me get this straight. A man my daughter was involved with over a year ago in Boston, a man who I’ve chased away and who she’s had no contact with for over a year, tracks her down here and breaks into her motel room, and he beats her up. If it wasn’t for another man breaking in and pulling him off, he would have killed her, and you guys see it as domestic disturbance?” he shouted.

Diane glared up at him. “Watch your tone. I can understand your frustration, but unfortunately, most women go back over and over to a bad situation, and, most times, they revoke their earlier statements of assault, so most jurisdictions don’t take it seriously. They expect women to go back, for it to be a waste of time. The fact that Brian wasn’t a stranger, and that your daughter was involved with him and had many incidents prior in which she didn’t press charges against him, worked against her.” She held Patrick’s gaze with one that was equally irritated.

“Where did you get this information? It isn’t entirely true. I thought I had taken care of the problem.” He slammed his hand on the table, and Diane’s notebook jumped.

She closed the notebook and the file, then folded her hands and rested her arms on the table. “Patrick, I understand your irritation. But we need to find Brian first. Also, do you know who broke in and pulled Brian off? As Alecia led us to believe, she didn’t see her rescuer, and the maid wasn’t much help, as she’s so worried about losing her job.”

Patrick frowned and swept his hand through the air. He paused for a second before scraping back his chair. “We’re staying at the same motel as Alecia, in her room. Please call me if you have any leads.”

He was at the door with his hand on the handle when Diane said, “Now I’m convinced there’s something up with the man who rescued your daughter. First her, now you evading my questions… Who is he? Now I know it’s no coincidence.”

Chapter 17

Patrick took his time climbing the steps up to the second level of the motel. He stopped and looked over the parking lot and down the long corridor. The maid’s cart was stopped halfway down. Patrick strode toward it and frowned at the large lot and the busy street below: businesses, restaurants … places where a man could get lost if he knew his way around. But where was Brian hiding? Patrick would bet his last dollar that Brian knew he was here now, and if he were smart, he’d be a hundred miles away. Only cowards lurked in the shadows, waiting to hurt a woman, to beat her down and steal her power. Brian had almost done that to his daughter, almost, but she was stronger then she’d admit. Patrick and Harriet had spoken of their fears on the flight out, but Harriet’s troubles, when he had made her leave for five years, had scarred their daughter worse than he thought.