Listen to the Shadows (14 page)

Chapter 17

Huddled on the cold floor with her knees drawn up and her back hard against the rough concrete wall, Katie stared into the near palpable darkness. Jason wasn’t dead. Only his clothes. The insane thought brought laughter—hysterical laughter that mingled with tears.

The creaking of the rope had stopped finally, but the vision of Jason’s dangling, twisting likeness remained imprinted on her retinas. And the warm, moist breath only now cooled on her cheek. In a little while, she grew oblivious to the damp chill of the cellar, to its dark, musty smell. Like a child trying to comfort itself, she began to rock, back and forth. Back and forth, hugging herself. Time held little meaning. Gradually the rocking motion soothed Katie, sending a merciful numbness to settle over her. Only when she heard a thump did a little of the numbness peel away.

Her eyes darted about in the darkness like those of a small, trapped animal. The sound had been muffled and seemed to come from far off.

Had she really heard something? She couldn’t be sure. Not of anything. Not anymore. She wondered idly if she had gone mad during the long, black hours.

Slow, measured footsteps descending the cellar steps let her know she hadn’t. Cowering against the hard, cold wall, she pressed her hands to her mouth to keep from crying out. It would all be over soon.

He was coming for her.

All numbness fled from Katie in a rush as the cellar door slowly opened. Struggling to her feet, she thought, I’m not ready to die. Not like this. Not without a fight, damn it!

A sudden beam of light pierced the darkness. Her clenched fists flew to her eyes.

And then a familiar voice called her name, and she was suddenly being lifted in strong arms, Jonathan’s arms. She clung to him, her body heaving in uncontrollable sobs. He held her without words, until at last she quieted, and then he spoke softly to her.

“I telephoned earlier. When I didn’t get an answer, I guessed, being you, you’d gone into work, so I went there and they told me you’d already taken the bus home. I forgot about your car being in for repairs. Anyway, I drove out here to see if you were all right and saw the Volkswagen in the drive. It was enough to know you weren’t alone, so I turned around and headed back to town. Something, I’m not exactly sure what, stopped me. Made me turn back.”

“Thank God,” she whispered into the rough texture of his coat. “He locked me in. I was so frightened, Jonathan.”

“Who? The door wasn’t locked, Katherine. You must have…didn’t you just come down here and take a weak spell?”

Not locked? But she’d thought…hadn’t she heard the bolt slide to? Katie moved out of his embrace reluctantly. Her legs felt weak, and her eyes burned from crying. “What time is it?” she asked.

He shone the flashlight on the face of his watch. “Eight-thirty.”

Only a little over an hour, she thought, disbelieving. It had seemed so much longer. “Behind you, Jonathan. Shine the flashlight behind you.”

He did and she felt his shock. “It’s dressed—in Jason’s clothes. Jason Belding. We’re good friends. He’s in my art class. That’s his car you saw the Volkswagen. The Comet’s mine. They delivered it today while I was at work. I wasn’t expecting…” Her momentary calm broke. “Why would anyone do such a horrible thing, Jonathan? What madman…?”

“That’s your answer, Katherine,” he answered quietly. “We are dealing with a madman. What were you doing down here anyway?”

She told him.

“I’ll get the wood. Then let’s get the hell out of here. You’re freezing. I’ll light the fires and make some coffee—or better still, a drink.” He finished filling up the box. Hefting it easily, he added, “Yes, a drink is definitely what you need right now. Do you have anything in the house?”

“There’s the better part of a bottle of wine in the cupboard,” she said vaguely.

Upstairs, after telephoning the police, Jonathan lit more lamps and set about building fires in both the studio fireplace and the kitchen stove. Even before the house had a chance to warm, uniformed men were flooding Katie’s house and grounds. Through parted drapes, she watched as circles of powerful lights flitted here and there among the black trees, and made sweeping paths on the lake’s surface and over the land. Men shouted to one another, and every shout was a tiny blow to Katie’s heart. What happened here? she asked silently. Where are you, Jason? Where are you, my good friend?

Long after the policeman was gone, Katie sat clutching her glass of wine and staring into the fire. Within the flames, pictures formed. Nightmarish pictures that seemed to exist in hell. My life is like that, she thought. As though some malevolent force had wrenched her destiny from her control, and was now torturing it into shapes and patterns that no longer made any sense.

“They’ll search again tomorrow,” Jonathan said beside her. “When it’s light. They’ll find him, Katherine.”

Katie saw that there were a few drops of wine left in the bottom of her glass and drained them. “Don’t humor me,” she said. “If they do find him, he’ll be dead.”

“You don’t know that.”

But she did. Deep in her heart, she knew. She’d seen it in the faces of the policemen. And somehow, she felt Jonathan knew it too. She held out her glass to him. “More, please.”

Without hesitation, he rose and refilled her glass. “Sip this one,” he advised in a fatherly tone. “You don’t want to get sick.”

“I’m sick already.” She sighed heavily. “Thank you for not letting the police hound me with questions, Jonathan.”

He nodded. “We can’t stall them forever, though. You’ll have to be prepared to answer those questions tomorrow. And we do want to find whoever is responsible for what’s been happening, don’t we? The police are just doing their job, Katherine.”

She knew that. She just didn’t want to think about it anymore. At least not right now. Taking a sip of her wine, she said, “Tell me more about you, Jonathan. What made you decide to become a psychiatrist? Or is it a secret?”

He didn’t answer right away. Then, “As a matter of fact, yes, it is.” Katie looked at him. The bluntness of his reply both surprised and stung her. She wasn’t even sure why she had asked the question, but she was angry at herself that she had. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“You weren’t. It’s a reasonable question. And I’m the one who’s sorry.” When Katie gave no response other than to drink more of her wine, he said, “Perhaps one day, if you’re still interested, I’ll tell you the story of my life.”

Hearing the bitter amusement in his voice, Katie shrugged as though it was all the same to her if he did or not. She concentrated on her wine. Then she felt the slight, warm pressure of Jonathan’s fingers as he slipped behind her and began to massage the back of her neck. “You’re terribly tense,” he said. “Not surprising. You’ve been through a lot these past weeks. You’re a very strong woman, Katherine. But, of course, I knew that about you the first time I laid eyes on you.”

Continuing to stare into the fire, thinking she should remove his hand, but without the will to do so, she replied, “I’m not strong at all.” She closed her eyes. His touch felt so soothing, so good. “The truth is, I’m confused and scared as hell.”

“Anyone would be.”

His hand moved around to her cheek and lingered there a moment, while Katie gazed into her glass and realized sadly that it was empty again. She passed it behind her. “More, please.”

Jonathan took his hand from her face to accept the glass. Reaching for the bottle on the floor, he laughed softly as he shook the few remaining drops into her glass. “You’re trying your damnedest to get drunk, aren’t you? Not that I blame you, but I’m afraid we’ve depleted our source.”

The wine was flowing warmly and sensually through her veins, giving her a pleasant sense of floating. “There’s some cooking sherry in the pantry,” she said, mentally congratulating herself for remembering. “Left over from last Christmas. Just like the Chablis—I got it for a present.”

He laughed again, more heartily this time, and Katie thought it a beautiful sound. “I don’t think that’s a particularly good idea right now. Why don’t you lie down? Try to rest awhile. I’ll be right here.”

Lie down. Rest. Yes. A good idea. Her lips felt numb. “Hand me the afghan and a pillow from the cot, Jonathan. Just put it here on the floor.”

“The floor? Why don’t you lie down on the cot? You’ll be more comfortable there.”

“No, no, I want to see the fire. I like the fire. ‘S pretty.”

He grinned and took the empty glass from her hand. “I think you’re already a little tipsy.”

Was she? And what did it matter if she was? It would be so nice just to float away on this warm, liquidy feeling, not to have to think anymore, not to be afraid…

When Jonathan had spread the afghan in front of the fire, Katie curled up on it. He sat above her watching the firelight play over the gentle curve of her cheek, the soft fullness of her mouth. There was such a toughness about her, and yet, lying there, she seemed so vulnerable, so like a little girl. But there was nothing fatherly in the way he was feeling at the moment. He wanted to make love to Katherine Summers more than he had ever wanted to make love to any woman in his lifetime.

Katie was not oblivious to the way he was looking at her. His arms, folded across his chest, were bronzed and muscled below rolled-up shirtsleeves.

“You look like an Indian chief.”

He smiled. “Do I?”

“Or an intelligent Rambo.” She giggled.

Jonathan laughed.

“No, no, s’more like an Indian chief. Mmm. A very nice Indian chief.” Her words sounded strange and distant in her ears. Maybe she really was drunk. Of course she was. She suddenly ached to feel Jonathan’s arms around her again. She’d felt so safe when he was holding her, like nothing bad could ever happen to her again.

“You can’t see the pretty fire with your back to it,” he said in a gentle, teasing way.

“Jonathan?”

“Yes.”

“Will you lie down with me?”

He didn’t answer right away and when he did, the no came out in a hoarse whisper, and Katie was encouraged by the struggle she’d heard in his voice. “Just for a little while?” she coaxed. Her words sounded like they belonged to someone else—someone she didn’t know. “Hold me, Jonathan. It felt so good when you were holding me. I wasn’t afraid then.”

She heard the small sigh of defeat as he rose from the chair. “All right. Just for a little while. You try to sleep, okay?”

“Okay.” She hid a small, triumphant smile.

He stretched out tentatively on the afghan beside her and drew her into his arms, leaving a careful space between their bodies.

Katie murmured in protest and cuddled closer, burying her face in the warm hollow of his neck. Her mouth brushed his skin and came away with the faint taste of salt. She kissed him there lightly.

“Go to sleep,” he said, and she could feel the tension in his body although he had moved farther from her.

“You always seem to be rescuing me, Jonathan.”

“That’s me. Regular dragon killer.”

Behind Katie, the fire crackled, while outside she heard the wind stirring in the trees and the water lapping against the shore.

She thought of Jason. Where was he? Lying hurt and bleeding somewhere out there in the darkness? Would the police find him? If they do, he’ll be dead, an inner voice taunted. You know he’ll be dead.

Hot tears slipped down her cheeks. “What’s happening, Jonathan? Who is doing these terrible things? Why?”

His arms tightened around her, caution forgotten for the moment. “I don’t know. I wish to God I did. Please, don’t cry, Katherine. Try not to think about it.” He stroked her hair. “I know it’s difficult but at least try to get some sleep. There’s still hope, you know.” His lips brushed her forehead. “You have to hope.”

Katie closed her eyes. And at once saw the hanging strawman dressed in Jason’s tan tweed jacket, his brown and white shoes, both part of his spring wardrobe. Her fashion-conscious friend wouldn’t be caught dead wearing those things in the fall. She cringed at the unintended pun. The monster must have broken into Jason’s apartment and stolen the clothes and stuffed…No, don’t think about it anymore—don’t think about it, she repeated like a chant. Katie licked a salty tear from the corner of her mouth and longed to return to her earlier state of numbness.

Lying in Jonathan’s arms, she became acutely aware of his firm body pressed against her own. She remembered the way his hands had felt on her, even through the blanket, and a slow heat began to throb within her. She moved closer.

“Katherine…”

She ignored the note of warning she heard in his voice, the same warning that echoed in her own mind. This was crazy, reckless behavior, and she was going to be sorry. The old adage about playing with fire came to her and she thought, Yes, that’s what I need right now, to be consumed by the fire in my senses. Senses don’t think. And safety was only a delusion, anyway. Who was safe? Not Jason—not her…

Her fingers moved through Jonathan’s slightly coarse, thick hair, and she reveled in the feel of it. She felt the quick, momentary pressure of his hand at the small of her back. “No,” he whispered. “Not like this.”

Her hands moved over the planes of his back, broad and smooth and muscled beneath the cotton shirt. “Like this?” she teased.