Wake to Darkness (19 page)

“You don’t really think Jeremy had anything to do with Mr. Douglas’s death, do you, Aunt Rache?”

I turned to my lovesick niece. “I wouldn’t tell you so even if I did, so the question is moot. And it doesn’t matter what I think, anyway.”

“It does, though.”

“Why?” I asked.

“What you think matters to Jeremy. And to me. And what Mason thinks matters more to him than whether the sun rises tomorrow morning. Just so you know.”

I nodded slowly. “Okay, what we think matters to Jeremy. But it’s not going to matter to a criminal investigation. We need to
prove
he’s innocent before the police get out here and start digging around.”

She nodded slowly. “He’s been drinking, Aunt Rache. A lot. I’m trying to help him with it.”

“If you want to help him, you need to convince him that he has to stop, Misty. He has to stop entirely. Not one sip, not one beer, not a glass of wine, nothing. Ever. No exceptions.”

She pressed her lips tight. “Seems kind of harsh.”

“Look at this way. If he can do it without much effort, he doesn’t have a problem. He can drink again, within reason, when he’s legal. On the other hand, if he can’t stop easily...”

“Then it’s a real problem.” She nodded as if that made sense to her.

Then the door opened, and Jeremy, Josh, Myrtle and a huge blast of wind-driven snow came in.

* * *

The spot where Scott Douglas had been disemboweled had only a couple of inches of snow, and it was sheltered from the brutal wind today, too. Mason could still see the blood, veiled only a little by the white powder. He was moving around the crime scene on hands and knees, brushing snow away as he went in an ever-widening circle. Rosie and Cait were circling the woods a little farther out, and Finn was searching for signs of how the killer had come and gone.

And then Mason spotted something in the snow.

A cell phone.

He picked it up carefully, using his gloved thumb and forefinger and turning its face toward him as Finnegan came closer.

“What’ve you got?” the other man asked.

“Phone.” Mason pushed the power button. “Dead. Wet, too. If we can dry it out and charge it up, figure out whose phone it is, we might have our man.”

“Unless it’s the victim’s phone,” Finn suggested. “We didn’t find one in his room.”

“No, and not on his body, either,” Mason said. “Still, we can hope.”

Finn held out an open plastic bag. “Best let me get the thing under lock and key. I’ll take it back to the Security Shack until we can hand it off to the police tomorrow.”

“You really think they’ll be able to get to us that soon?” someone asked.

They both turned. Marie was standing a few yards away. Mason dropped the phone into the bag and moved toward her. “You shouldn’t have come out here alone, Marie. It’s not safe.”

“I just... I wanted to see where Alan...” She lowered her head, closed her eyes.

Mason sighed and put his arms around her, hugging her hard. “You’ve been through so much. I’m sorry, Marie. And I’m sorry I was a jerk about him at first, too.”

She let her head rest on his shoulder. “I know you are.” Then she straightened. “It’s not like we were in love or anything, I just... I really liked him. He was a nice guy, you know? A genuinely nice guy.”

“Take your sister-in-law on back to the cabin, Mason,” Rosie said, as he and Cait returned to join them. “We’re about done here anyway. And I have got to get back to Marlayna or she’s gonna skin me.”

Mason nodded, but he shot a look at Finnegan for confirmation.

“I don’t know there’s any more we can do here,” Finn said. “Time for us all to get back and try to keep everyone safe and calm until the roads are cleared and the police can get here.”

“All right,” Mason said. “Drop that phone into a bowl of rice for a while. Maybe we can dry it out and find a charger to fit it.”

“No doubt about that. We have in the neighborhood of a hundred and seventeen phone chargers in our lost and found. We let guests borrow one when they’ve forgotten theirs at home.”

“Don’t let any guests borrow them today, at least not until we find one that fits,” Mason suggested.

Finnegan nodded and stuffed the bagged phone into his pocket as Cait walked over to join him. Mason tucked Marie under one arm, and they all started back through the pine forest to the cabin.

But when they got there, Marie abruptly stopped. Mason looked down at her with a question in his eyes, but she just waited while Finnegan, Cait and Rosie got into the Abominable. Finn turned the lumbering beast around, and they started back toward the lodge.

Finally, Marie said, “I don’t know what’s happening, Mason. It’s like I’m cursed. Everyone I care about dies.”

“No. Not everyone.”

“Eric,” she said softly. “Our baby. And then poor Alan.” Her eyes were dry, but red, as if she’d cried for so long there were no tears left. She looked empty, hollow. Defeated. “And now Jeremy...” She trailed off, shaking her head.

“What about Jeremy?” he asked. This was important, he sensed it right to his toes.

She shook her head and turned toward the front door, but he caught her arm and turned her around. “Finish the thought, Marie. It’s important. What about Jeremy?”

Marie lowered her head, sighed heavily. “Eric used to go someplace where I couldn’t reach him. Someplace...inside himself. Did you ever see that happen?”

Holding her gaze, he nodded. He’d seen it. He just hadn’t realized what it meant. “The silences, the brooding. Staying in his room for hours at a time without a word, just staring at nothing. No TV, no music, nothing, just...nothing,” he said. “He’s always done it, even as a kid.”

“So you know,” she said softly. “I never understood, I just... I resented that I couldn’t reach him there. He seemed so far from me during those times.”

“Mom took him to a psychiatrist once. But Eric said he was fine, and the doctor didn’t find any reason to disagree. He could fake it really well, Marie.”

“I wonder what he was hiding in that dark place inside him,” she mused.

That he was a serial killer, Mason thought. But he would never tell Marie that. He’d put his career on the line to protect her and the boys from that ugly truth. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “He’s at peace now.”

“But Jeremy isn’t. And now he’s doing the same thing. Going to that dark place where no one can find him. And it scares me, Mason. It scares me to death, because I don’t want to lose
him,
too.”

Her words sent a chill right to Mason’s bones. “We’re not gonna lose him,” he said. “I plan to hold on to Jeremy for all I’m worth. I won’t let go. We’ll pull him through this, I promise you. No matter what it takes.”

And he meant it. If Jeremy was infected with whatever evil had poisoned his father, if it was genetic, then Mason would get him into treatment, onto medication, whatever it took.

If.

And it was a very big
if.
The biggest. Because he knew he couldn’t trust his instincts where his nephew was concerned.

But he
could
trust Rachel’s. They were good, better than his cop sense—which had been called uncanny—at its best. Rachel didn’t believe Jeremy could have killed Alan Douglas, much less anyone else. He was holding on to that trust, holding on for dear life. And just like he’d told Marie, he wasn’t about to let go.

15

Friday, December 22

I
t wasn’t that bad a day, considering there was a murderer somewhere nearby waiting for a chance to steal my eyes. Aside from that, it was actually pretty good, mainly because there was nothing we could do but wait for the police to arrive and the plows to clear the roads.

We’d all done a fair amount of shopping before the storm hit, and Misty had stocked up on gift wrap and bows on our trip into the village. So we worked on wrapping our gifts, all of us together, hunching over our work spaces, so the others couldn’t see their surprises. Mason actually took an hour-long nap after that. Misty and Marie and I talked about whether we’d still be here—here at the lodge, not here among the living—on Christmas Day, and what we’d do if we were. Make dinner here or venture out to the lodge to celebrate with the other guests. The thought of being so exposed sent a shiver up my spine, but I pretended it was a logical discussion to be having, even with a serial killer after us.

Then again, he was really only after me—and Marie, though I still had no idea why he had gone after her. I mean, I didn’t doubt it. She’d been attacked, had the bruises to prove it, but still... My extra senses were reading that signal as indecipherable. It made no sense.

Josh was having a fit most of the time, because he wanted to be at the lodge with his grandmother and the water park and arcade—not necessarily in that order. But he forgot not to have fun every now and then.

At some point we’d given in to the kids’ begging and put a pumpkin pie into the oven to bake. The supplies that had been waiting when we’d first arrived had included all the ingredients from filling to pre-made pie crusts, thank you God and Caity Cole, and lots of other holiday things like canned cranberry sauce and boxes of stuffing mix. I bet there was a turkey in the freezer, and at the thought I got a little warm glow in the pit of my belly.

I smacked it upside the head and got my focus back. Killer, remember?

It was that damn Christmas thing in the air, infecting me like it seemed to infect everyone else I knew at this time of year. It was only three days away. With the smell of the fireplace and the pie in the oven, I was damn near whimsical. Almost ready to think some holiday magic was going to happen to fix all this before I wound up paralyzed under a pine tree with a scalpel-wielding killer and my eyes wide open.

I closed them quickly, gripped the edge of the counter and bowed my head. I didn’t mean to, it just happened. That image had hit me hard.

“Hey, what smells so good down here?”

Mason. I hadn’t realized he’d come back downstairs and automatically looked at the clock. “You only slept for an hour.”

“From the looks of you, it was an hour too long. What happened?”

I shook my head and stood up straight, crossing my arms. “Nothing. I was just walking down dark alleys in my head. Places I’ve got no business going.”

He came right to me, like it was an everyday thing, squeezed my shoulders and leaned his face close to mine. I was ultra-conscious of Misty and Marie standing a few feet away, watching us, and then I felt his breath on my mouth and didn’t care if the Pope was standing there.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Rachel. I promise you, I’ll be the first and last thing standing between you and this maniac, and he’ll have to kill me to get by.”

It dawned on me that this wasn’t a romantic embrace at all. It was a solemn vow, and he was standing so close to make sure I got it.

And I did, I got it, and then I was completely dumbfounded. Because he meant it.

I moved my face even closer to his, and I said to him, “I will never let you die for me, Mason Brown. Don’t you even think about doing something that stupid. You think I want that on my shoulders for the rest of my life? No fucking way.”

He blinked like he was stunned.

I felt bad, so I added, “That was probably the most amazing offer I’ve ever had, though. Thanks for that.”

“I meant it.”

“I know you did.” His eyes were searching mine for I didn’t even know what. Everything inside me was jiggling like St. Nick’s bowlful-of-jelly belly, and there was this urgent feeling in my soul. I wanted him like a vampire wants a pint of A-neg straight from the donor. Right there. In front of the whole fam-damily.

The oven timer pinged, and Marie cleared her throat. I blinked myself back to reality and stepped away. Misty scampered for the living room, bending close to my ear and whispering, “That was like the most romantic thing I’ve ever
seen!
” as she passed. Marie took the pie out of the oven, set it on the counter and followed Misty.

I stood there, shaking. “Well, you certainly distracted me from my morbid thoughts.”

“You distracted me, too.”

I nodded. “We can’t be distracted right now, though.” It was what he would say, I knew, and after the other night, I had to agree with him. But I wanted him anyway. In ways I was too afraid to think about.

“No, we can’t.” He went to the counter and leaned down to smell the pie. I watched his chest expand and ached for him. “This smells so good.”

“We can have some as soon as it cools off a little.”

“With hot cocoa,” he said. “By the fire. This is really starting to feel Christmassy, in spite of everything, isn’t it?”

I couldn’t seem to generate a snarky comeback to save my ass and instead found myself nodding with a faraway look in my eyes. “I was just thinking that. This damn holiday gets into the darkest spaces, doesn’t it? It’s like...”

“Magic.” He drew a deep breath, let it out slowly. “So, for what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s the extreme situation this time, Rachel.”

That startled me. Because he wasn’t talking about the holiday anymore, he was talking about us. And I was interpreting his words to mean that he thought there might be something more between us. Something real. Even thinking it had terrified me. Finding out that he’d been thinking it, too... Hell, I couldn’t even process that yet. It was still ricocheting around my brain, lighting up every nerve center. “Mason, I—”

“No, it’s okay. I know. Anyway, this isn’t the time.”

“No, it’s really not.”

He glanced at the clock. “How long before the pie?”

I went almost limp with relief at his easy change of subject. “Half a round of Scrabble?”

“It’s unfair. You’re a writer.”

“I don’t think you’re going to have any trouble. I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re smarter than you look.”

“Hey!”

“That was a compliment, dumbass.”

“Oh.”

“Good-looking men aren’t always known for their brilliance.”

“I got it, I got it.”

“I’m losing my touch when I have to explain my lame-ass jokes,” I muttered, walking past him into the living room. “So, are we on for that game, or what?”

* * *

We played Scrabble. And then we ate pie. And then we played rummy and ate some more pie. And then everyone went to bed, and we stayed up, drinking pots of coffee and playing the boys’ video games. Every hour or so we’d go upstairs and check on the crew. Misty and Myrtle were in with Josh again, Myrt snoring like a chain saw. Jeremy was on his own, as was Marie.

It was relaxed and easy, even fun, spending the night trying to keep each other awake and protect ourselves from a killer. I mean, given that I had to do that at all, there was no one I would rather have done it with.

We didn’t talk about anything heavy. And we didn’t let things get romantic, both of us holding on to ourselves with nothing but sheer willpower. And, you know, the fear that getting distracted could mean we’d all wake up dead. That helped, too. We couldn’t mess up now. Not tonight. Tonight might be the organ thief’s best chance to succeed. Tomorrow we might not be so cut off. Hell, if things panned out with that cell phone, tomorrow we might know who the hell he was. So we stayed awake, and we played games. And we pretended that we didn’t want to rip each other’s clothes off.

* * *

Finnegan Smart didn’t like sleeping in the fancy rooms of the lodge, and there wasn’t a cabin available. So he did what he always did on such occasions. He pulled out the cot and bedding he kept in the storage room, and set up camp right in the Security Shack. He had heat, he had power, a coffeepot ready to go first thing in the morning and a shotgun close to hand. He was set for the night.

But then he heard something rattling around outside his door. In this storm? Something bad must be happening if someone was out in the dead of night in this weather.

He got up in his shorts and went to the door. He looked out the little glass panel first, of course, and then, frowning, opened it. “What can I do for you? Is something wrong?”

His visitor came inside, shaking off snow, and turning to face him. And then something jabbed him in the gut, and the next thing he knew, the room was swimming and he was fading fast. He dropped to his knees and looked down at his hands. His belly was gushing blood all over them.

* * *

Mason was looking in on the kids, and I eased open Marie’s bedroom door to peek in at her. She was still lying in the bed, just as she had been every time I’d checked on her for the past several hours.

That’s a little odd, isn’t it? People move around in their sleep. But she’s in the same position. Is she okay?

Cussing myself out for not doing so earlier, I tiptoed inside, put my hands on her shoulders and whispered, “Marie?”

She rolled onto her back, squinting up at me. “What? What’s going on?”

I sighed in relief. I don’t know what I’d thought, but it had suddenly occurred to me that she’d been pretty depressed lately. And had reason to be. “I was just checking on you. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Fine.”

I nodded. “All right. I’m sorry, I just...flaked.”

“It’s okay,” she said, smiling. “It’s nice that you care.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s not get mushy here. Go back to sleep.”

“Night,” she said and I backed out of the room. I turned and bumped into Mason’s chest. My nose was buried in his T-shirt, and I was awash in pure sensual pleasure. God, he smelled good.

I couldn’t lift my head because if I did we were going to start making out right there in the hallway. And if we started making out, we’d be in bed in about two minutes, so we couldn’t start making out. Maybe tomorrow.

I stepped back. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

I looked up, now that I was a safe two feet away from him. “You’re exhausted. Why don’t you take a nap? I can stay awake by myself for an hour.”

“Not a good idea. I’ll catch cat naps during the day. Night is when he’s more likely to try something.”

“Tonight in particular,” I said.

He nodded in agreement.

I rolled my eyes. “Dammit, Mason, you could’ve lied.”

“What would be the point? You already know.”

I walked up to him and grabbed him by the T-shirt. “Keep me alive long enough to jump your bones, Mason Brown, or I swear to God, I’ll come back and do it anyway.” And then I leaned up and pressed my mouth to his. When he groaned and started kissing me back just as hungrily, I pulled away and headed back downstairs.

Saturday, December 23

Rachel had fallen asleep on the sofa, leaning over to one side, mouth slightly open, game controller still in her hand. She was still there as the sun rose, though Mason had draped a blanket over her and set the controller on the coffee table. She smelled good. She’d taken a shower last night, put on fresh clothes, not intending to sleep, then had fallen asleep anyway. He looked at her and grinned.

It was dawn on December 23. The day before Christmas Eve. They’d made it through the night without incident, and the storm had finally stopped. The sun was beaming through the windows, reflecting off the snow, blindingly bright. Within hours the roads would be cleared, the cell tower repaired, the state police here, and he could get his family the hell away. Last night had been the most dangerous point.

And they’d survived.

He was relieved as hell, and feeling more certain than ever that the killer had gotten out of there before the storm hit. Otherwise, he certainly would have tried something last night.

He heard a motor buzzing in the distance and realized it was coming closer. Going to the window, he squinted and saw rooster tails of snow flying behind a pair of speeding snowmobiles, and he knew without even thinking about it that something was wrong. His gut told him so. The speed of the sleds told him so, too, and his happiness over surviving the night waned.

“What’s going on?” Rachel sounded sleepy, as she scuffed closer and looked past him at the approaching snowmobiles.

“I think we’re about to find out.”

The machines stopped, and their passengers jumped off and tugged off helmets while hurrying to the front door. Rosie and Cait Cole, shaking her blond hair and looking ragged.

He opened the door before they got to it. Cait didn’t come in, just stood on the step in front of Rosie. “I need you to come with me,” she said. “Fast. Now.” She was shaking. Her voice trembled.

Mason shot a look at Rachel and she nodded, acknowledging that she heard it, too.

“I’ll stay with the family, Mace.” Rosie eased past Cait and up to the door. “You have to go with her.”

“I’m coming, too,” Rachel said. She dove into the closet, tossed him his coat, then went back for hers.

Mason pulled on his coat as Cait moved aside to let Rosie in. “You armed, partner?”

“To the teeth,” Rosie said. “And some of the security guys are on their way to back me up. Everyone here will be safe, I promise.”

“Okay, I won’t be long.” Mason had shoved on his boots by then, and pulled on his hat. Leaning close to Rosie, he said, “Don’t let Jeremy out of your sight, okay?”

“Jeremy?” Rosie frowned. “Something happen I don’t know about?”

“I’ll explain later. Watch him, that’s all.”

“All right. Ain’t nobody getting in or out of this cabin while I’m on duty, my friend. You better believe that.”

Mason nodded, then glanced back to see Rachel dressed and ready. “Let’s go.”

* * *

I knew something bad had happened. But I didn’t know how bad until we walked into the Security Shack and saw Finnegan Smart lying in a puddle of his own blood, his green eyes wide open, their light forever extinguished. The door closed behind us, and I jumped out of my skin when I turned around, but it was only Cait, pulling it shut, leaning back against it, staring at the body on the floor as her eyes welled.