Stranger in the Mirror [Shades of Heaven] (Soul Change Novel) (22 page)

“Hey,” he said, leaning the poles against the wall by the door. “I always like to hear him barking when I come up. Makes me feel safer about leaving you here alone, especially at night.”

“I have to admit, he makes me feel safer, too. But about that barking…”

Jesse was already nodding. “I know, I know. He hears something out there, but I don’t know what it is.”

“For the last three nights in a row?”

For a crazy moment, as he walked toward her, she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, he leaned over and patted her belly. “Hi, Eli. Kick for me, little guy.” Something in his voice made the baby move, and Jesse grinned. “He likes me already. I can tell.” He sank down on the sofa with a sigh. “Those kids sure wipe me out. They’re into everything, more interested in exploring around the lake than fishing in it. I ended up having to carry them in when I dropped them off.”

Marti stiffened. “So, how is Abbie?”

He shrugged, obviously not hearing the crisp tone in her voice. “All right, I guess.”

“No proposals tonight?”

He gave her a curious look. “No. Why, you got one for me?”

She turned away. “You have too many women for my taste.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Abbie, Desiree. Is there anyone else out there with their fangs out that I should be aware of? All I ask is that you wait until I leave before you send out the invitations.”

“Whoa. Where is this coming from?”

Anger heated her face. “I feel like there are predators anxiously waiting to take my place.” She couldn’t find the right words to convey what she was feeling: threatened? Left out?

“Abbie’s not a predator.” He actually laughed at that. “She’s just offering to fill a hole you’re going to leave. Desiree and I are friends, nothing more. If there was something between us, we’d have hooked up a long time ago.” He released a quick breath. “Talk to me, Marti. What do you want from me?”

She couldn’t help it. Her gaze drifted down over his body, solid, sexy. She wanted
him
. “It’s hormones, that’s all.” Hormones that were unleashing jealousy, making her want to cry. “I’m going to lay down for a bit.”

Dammit, she wanted to believe that’s all it was. Because if what she was feeling wasn’t due to them, she was in a big mess.

Marti moved around in her bed for more than two hours before she finally stilled. He had been waiting impatiently for her to go to sleep. Was she dreaming about the attack?

For a while he’d convinced himself that her amnesia was permanent. The anvil-hanging-over-his-head feeling, though, pressed on.

He’d gone to her window at night again, hoping she’d moved on. That she was still not sleeping with her husband meant the trauma continued to plague her. She never seemed to sleep well. Inevitably, her memories would return, and once she saw his face, over the anvil would drop.

Three nights after he’d decided to kill her, he was still standing outside her window. But tonight the dog wasn’t roaming the house. He’d seen Jesse lock him in his bedroom. They were stupid enough to think the dog was barking for nothing. Their mistake.

The only sound he could hear were the frogs, celebrating the return of warmth. His feet were bare, better to walk quietly on the wet leaves. He would climb in through the window, strangle her in her sleep, and slip away. It would be morning before Jesse knew she was dead. He would investigate, but without Marti’s memory, it would lead to a dead end.

He slipped the glasscutter out of his pocket and cut a half moon over the window latch. With a suction cup, he pulled the piece toward him, cringing at the soft crunch of the glass parting.

Marti rolled onto her back, and he waited until he was sure she hadn’t woken. Then he reached inside and switched the lever.

With the suction cup, he managed to raise the window a half inch, enough to get his gloved finger in the crevice and lift it all the way.

Crawling in would be the hard part. He crawled halfway in before losing his balance. With the sill at his stomach, he teetered back and forth, his breath caught in his chest. If she woke now, it would be all over. He couldn’t have that. Once he had her neck clutched in his grip, she wouldn’t be able to scream.

He was able to reach the dresser and regain his balance, but the makeshift hood he wore fell off and landed on the floor. Steadying himself, he awkwardly climbed down from the window. His heart pounded like a cissy boy’s.
Man up
.

After feeling around on the floor, he found the hood and slipped it back over his head.

The glow of the nightlight lit the bed. The only part of her body that showed from beneath the crumpled sheets and blanket was her face. Her rounded forehead creased with worry. Not because he was standing next to her, but from the dream that clutched her in its grasp.

The thought of his task pumped adrenaline through him. He didn’t want to kill her; he had to. No choice. He couldn’t fail this time. Last time he had threatened his rape victim into silence. She’d had no one to protect her or back her up. Marti did.He rubbed his hands together and reached down to her neck, barely visible. As soon as fingers circled her throat, her eyes opened. But she didn’t scream. She tried to move her arm, but it was encased in the sheets. He pressed tighter, anxious to have it done with before she realized she wasn’t dreaming.

Her foot escaped the blanket and slammed him in the groin. She pushed back the sheets and shoved at his chest. Then her scream tore lose, filling the room with the hoarse sound of terror. A violent fit of coughing ensued. He grasped his injured balls before realizing he had to get out of there.

“Jesse!” she managed through her coughs.

Working with his survival instinct, he locked the bedroom door just as Jesse slammed into it from the other side. Shoving Marti aside, he dove for the window, scratching his back as he slid through and fell to the ground. The crack of the wood around the door echoed in the night as he tore through the woods to the river. He heard small footsteps and dared a glance behind him. The snarling dog was racing up, as if released from the gates of hell.

His shallow dive landed him several yards from the bank. He saw the dog jumping into the river several yards behind him. The current ran swiftly, dragging him in its cold wet grasp farther and farther away. The dog disappeared in the darkness.

He reached the shore and stumbled through the woods to where he’d left the truck. He had parked it far from Jesse’s house, but it was closer to where he now was. And he could navigate those woods like a sailor on a lake. He found the truck and started it before he’d even closed the door. He tried to shake away the trembling in his hands as he pulled into his drive and turned off the truck. His heart threatened to burst.

He’d almost killed her, twice. It was an omen that she’d survived. An omen that she belonged to him.

He had lost the chance to raise his baby. The woman he’d loved, the woman he would have laid down his life for, had denied that it was his. She’d spat at him, swearing she would never let him touch her child. Another man had raised his son as his own.

Marti was pregnant, as his love had been, carrying high and remaining small. Yes, she was meant to be his.

Holy hell, he’d almost lost the chance to regain what he’d lost. He raised his face and thanked God for sparing her and giving him this message.

Now his only choice was to get rid of Jesse.

CHAPTER 13

Marti wailed and trembled violently in Jesse’s arms. He held her so tight his muscles ached, but he managed to stroke her hair and whisper calming words against the top of her head. His eyes never left the open window, his emotions warring between staying with her and going after the son-of-a-bitch with a rifle. Marti’s grip was too tight to even think about leaving her.

“Tell me what happened. Can you do that for me, doll?”

Her cheeks were wet with tears streaming down her face. She was still sucking in deep breaths, but she nodded. He tucked the strands of hair that stuck to her face behind her ears.

“I thought … dream … not a dream … standing there … came at me.”

He pulled her close again. “Doll, I can’t understand what you’re saying. Come on, walk with me to the kitchen. I’m going to call the sheriff’s office, then get you something to drink.”

He helped her to unsteady feet, then guided her into the kitchen where he poured her a shot of whiskey. Damn, she wasn’t supposed to have alcohol. He tossed it down his throat instead and poured her water instead. She gulped it, then coughed and sputtered.

He put his hands on her arms, facing her. “Marti, did you see him?”

“He was black.” She shook her head. “No, that’s not right. He had a KKK-type hood, only it was black. He was tall, not heavy, not skinny.” She was trembling so hard, her teeth were chattering.

“Think. Could it have been Paul?”

She bit her bottom lip, obviously trying to conjure up a painful memory. “It could have been, but I don’t know. I just don’t know. It was dark, and he … he … “

“It’s okay, doll.” He rubbed her arms, pulled her close, and called the emergency number.

Lyle answered. “‘lo?” Then he cleared his voice and seemed to come awake. “Deputy Thomas here.”

“This is Jesse West. Somebody just broke in and tried to kill Marti. Get over here right away.”

“Oh, m’gosh! Should I call an ambulance?”

Marti was already shaking her head, clutching tighter to him. “No, I don’t think that’s necessary. She’s just shaken up.”

“Okay, let me call Carl, and we’ll be right over.” To his wife’s urgent inquiries, he answered, “Marti just got attacked.”

Jesse knew Eileen would be on the phone until sunrise telling everyone about it. No matter; it would get around anyway.

Jesse called Helen to tell her what happened and warn her that he was bringing Marti over after the questioning. Then he took Marti’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m going to get you some clothes.”

She nodded, but her grip didn’t lessen, so they both went into her room. He picked out some clothes and led her to his bedroom. “I want you to stay right here, lock the door behind me, and get dressed.”

Her eyes filled with panic. “Where are you going?”

“Outside to take a look around.”

“I’m going with you.” She ripped off her nightshirt and changed while he turned away to give her privacy.

He grabbed his rifle, took his fishing flashlight out of the closet, and led her by the hand outside. He found the half-moon shaped glass on the ground outside Marti’s window but saw no footprints in the mat of oak leaves.

The sound of flapping ears preceded Bumpus, who appeared out of the blackness, glistening with water.

“The son-of-a-bitch went to the river.” Which would end tracking completely.

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing to something on the ground up ahead.

A single blue glove lay on the damp leaves. He didn’t touch it but trained the flashlight on it as he crouched down closer. “It’s a golf glove.” His eyes narrowed as he tried to remember if he’d ever seen it before. Who noticed golf gloves, anyway? But he did know one thing: Paul played golf.

His anger boiled as he imagined Paul running through the woods. Jesse stood when he heard sirens wailing in the distance.

Carl was the first to show up, and Jesse clenched his fists as he walked outside. Carl was as put-together as he always was, even at 1:15 in the morning. Still, his face was stiff with tension.

“What the hell happened? Lyle told me someone broke in and tried to kill Marti.”

“What happened is that the bastard who’s been running around since November is still trying to kill my wife. Where’s Paul?”

“Paul’s asleep on the couch. I saw him when I left. Did she see the man?”

“No, he wore a head over his head. There’s a golf glove out back. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Lyle’s car slammed into the driveway, lights flashing in silence. He jumped out and met the two men near the front door.

Carl took charge. “Jesse, show Lyle where Marti was sleeping. Lyle, interview her, find out if she can identify the man who broke in. I’ll take a look outside and go over the window for prints and anything else I can find.”

Jesse didn’t want Carl to walk around back alone, where he could do away with any evidence that could convict his son. But he didn’t want to leave Marti alone either. Damn, but things were complicated.

Before Carl reached the corner of the house, Jesse said, “Sheriff, don’t lose the evidence this time.”

Carl turned around in a bull-charging stance, fingers curled like claws at his sides. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it means. I think you’ll do whatever it takes to protect that good-for-nothing son of yours.”

“Paul had nothing to do with this. If I thought he did, I’d throw his butt in jail as fast as I’d throw yours in.” He pointed to Jesse. “And I’d watch what I’d say if I were you, or I’ll do just that.”

With every passing second, Jesse was surer that it was Paul. He led Lyle to Marti’s bedroom, then took her aside.

“I’m going to keep an eye on Carl.”

Her eyes widened. “You really think it was Paul, don’t you?”

He put his hand on his stomach. “Right here in my gut, I do. Carl would be a fool to get rid of the glove, because he knows I’ve seen it. But there might be something else I missed. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

“I need you now,” she whispered, then said, “No, go. It’s important.”

With a last look at her, he went outside to monitor Carl. The blue glove was in a plastic bag on the ground. Carl was dusting the window with one hand, holding a flashlight with the other. He gave Jesse a sidelong glance before returning to his task.

“I don’t see any prints on the outside. We might find some inside. There probably won’t be any on the glove, but I’m going to check to see where it was bought.”

Jesse watched him work without comment. After they’d dusted the bedroom, Carl and Lyle packed up. Marti had stayed in the living room, huddled in a blanket.