Midnight Exposure (20 page)

“Wood’s on the porch. There’s nothing around for miles. Scream away. Nobody will hear you. Burn the place down, you’ll burn with it.”

The handcuffs were removed. He rubbed at his wrists as a thick metal shackle was fastened around his ankle, the same one he’d been restrained with at the old house. John heard the clinking of chain links being dragged across the floor.

“Count to one hundred before you take the hood off, or I’ll slit your throat.”

The door slammed shut. The engine rumbled to life, then faded.

But John did exactly as he was told. One hundred seconds later, he lifted the blindfold.

He was standing in a one-room cabin. Heat poured from a cast-iron potbellied stove in the corner. The chain attached to his ankle was fastened around its feet, which were bolted to the floor. John did a quick sweep of the cabin. The chain was just long enough for him to reach the front porch to retrieve wood and take two steps out the rear door. The single cabinet was empty save for a metal bowl and a plastic cup. No knives. No can opener. There wasn’t even a cot, just a sleeping bag on the floor. Logs were piled waist-high by the door. His captor had left the usual supply of protein bars and bottled water.

A tiny seed of hope formed in John’s chest. He could melt snow to drink. Without the tainted water, he’d be able to think. Unless the protein bars were drugged. He’d go without for a while and see if he felt clearheaded.

He pulled the sleeping bag closer to the stove and extended his wet feet toward its warmth. His brain was still mush. Tomorrow, though, he had to figure a way out of here. Moving him to this even more remote location wasn’t a good sign. It meant something was going to happen.

And John knew it wasn’t going to be something good.

He glanced at the small rectangular window high on the cellar wall. Dawn brightened the sky. Tomorrow at midnight he would usher in the winter solstice with three deaths. By the time the sun rose on the darkest day, three men would be reborn.

He pulled a box from the rows of shelves and set it on the workbench. An English associate had sent him the package after a
very special request. He carefully lifted the boughs from the white paper wrapping. A white berry fell from the greenery and rolled to the floor.

Fresh mistletoe. Cut from a great oak by a Druid priest with a golden sickle on the sixth day of the new moon.

He began to lay out his ceremonial supplies on the workbench next to the mistletoe.

The burnt stub of last year’s Yule log, along with the thick section of oak he’d selected for the coming ceremony. He wrapped his hand around the amulet that hung from his neck. The tiny vial contained ashes from the previous year’s fire—and therefore a bit of power from the sun’s rebirth.

Two gallons of moose blood in plastic milk jugs went on dry ice in an igloo cooler. The circle must be consecrated.

Sturdy rope.

Three thin leather garrotes.

His
boline,
its sickle-like blade freshly sharpened.

Three hand-carved oak vessels to catch the lifeblood that would be their salvation.

Only three things were missing: the boy he’d already collected and moved during the night to the cabin near the clearing, the woman who’d escaped, and the final, yet unnamed, sacrifice.

Whom should he choose? Someone who wouldn’t be missed right away. Someone whose disappearance could be easily excused.

The answer came in a sudden rush of divine epiphany.

One of the troubled teens at the Youth Center would be perfect. A few had run away in the past.

Perfect.

Everything was lining up perfectly.

A sign from the gods that he was on the true path to redemption.

“I’ll call you later.” Reed watched Scott gather the bag of fresh bagels and the gallon of orange juice from the backseat. The roads in town had been plowed and salted with Yankee efficiency.

“You’ll be here all morning, right?”

“Yeah. Brandon’s mom is working the breakfast shift at the diner. He has to stay with his little brothers.” Scott’s breath clouded in the morning chill.

“Let me know if you guys go anywhere else,” Reed said.

“’Kay.” Scott jumped down from the cab. He paused at the passenger window. Jayne lowered the glass. “It was nice to meet you, Jayne. Good luck.”

“Thanks, Scott. You too.” Jayne leaned out and gave him a quick hug.

With a final wave Scott walked up the shoveled walk to the front door of the tiny Cape Cod. Across the street, the sun rose over the trees behind the cemetery. Only the tallest headstones poked out of the thick drifts.

With a crunch of tires on ice, Reed pulled back out onto the street. Next to him, Jayne rested her head on the passenger window.

Reed took a gulp of scalding coffee from his travel mug and pushed back the guilt. He’d deliver Jayne safely into Hugh’s custody and make sure that all was well before leaving her there.
He’d miss her, but she’d go on with her life. She had a family that loved her. Her three brothers would make sure the scumbag in Philadelphia didn’t bother her.

The very idea of her assailant walking the streets burned in Reed’s gut. He’d seen countless violent predators evade the system. The fact that Reed was well versed in reality didn’t help him deal with the truth. A woman like Jayne didn’t deserve to have the jerk who’d attacked her on the loose. For that matter, no woman did. But Jayne was special.

To him.

Shit
. How had that happened?

Jayne didn’t need to be bogged down with him. So why did he feel like someone was carving a chunk from his heart with a spoon? And why had he spent the rest of last night thinking about running away with her to a tropical island, somewhere far away from Huntsville or Philadelphia? In this fantasy land, Reed wouldn’t have to worry about the media. Jayne wouldn’t be in danger. They could get to know each other without the stress of either of their pasts.

He could kiss her without worrying about taking advantage of her vulnerability. He’d barely resisted last night, despite her fragile state.

The spoon’s dull edge dug deeper.

Damn it. He was doing the right thing. She couldn’t stay here. It wasn’t safe.

“It’ll be OK.” He glanced at Jayne, but her face was still turned away from him. She nodded and picked at the edge of a bandage poking from her sleeve.

The ache in Reed’s chest deepened. “Hugh’ll take care of you. He’s one of the good guys.”

Hugh wouldn’t shirk responsibility. Ever.

Reed’s conscience nagged as he made the turn onto Main Street and parked in front of the municipal building. Hugh’s truck wasn’t there yet. Reed glanced at the dashboard clock, his fingers clenched on the steering wheel. Hugh had specified he wanted to interview Jayne early, before the nine o’clock church service swarmed the town with well-intentioned busybodies. Except for the police, the township building would be empty on a Sunday morning.

Hugh pulled in next to him and got out of his car. Instead of his uniform, he wore a navy-blue parka, jeans, and work boots. He walked up to the passenger window of the Yukon and opened Jayne’s door. “My goodness, am I glad to see you safe and sound.”

Reed loosened his fingers as he resisted the urge to drive away with her.

Jayne slid out of his truck. A Lincoln Town Car pulled in at the diner next door. The old man at the wheel pointed at Jayne and said something to his wife. Reed jumped out of the Yukon, rounded the front of the vehicle, and planted his body between Jayne and the gapers.

Everyone in town knew by now that she’d been abducted. The press would be here any minute. If Jayne didn’t leave town soon, she’d suffer an onslaught of media exposure. Reed would spare her that horror no matter what her departure did to his heart.

“Let’s get her inside. It’s cold out here.” Hugh frowned and drew a ring of keys from his pocket as they trooped up the rock salt—dusted steps to the porch. He blew on his gloveless free hand as he inserted his key into the lock and shoved the door open. “What the hell?”

Smoke wafted down the hallway. Reed pulled Jayne back.

“Get her to a safe place, Reed.” Hugh rushed ahead. “I’ll make sure there’s no one inside. I forget what time I told Evan to come in.”

“Don’t go in there, Hugh.” Reed turned and propelled Jayne away from the building, keeping his body between her and the smoke. He yelled at the old folks in the Lincoln, “Call the fire department!”

Reed shoved Jayne into the Yukon and handed her the keys. His heart kicked as he turned to look back at the building. The smoke was still thin, but the building was old and mostly wood. “Park down the street and wait for me. Lock the doors. Drive away if anything seems suspicious.”

“What’s going on?” Nathan rushed out of the diner, sliding into his coat as he jogged toward Reed.

“Fire. Hugh went in. He wanted to make sure there wasn’t anyone inside.” Reed ran toward the municipal building.

“Why would there be anyone in there? It’s Sunday.”

“He was worried about Evan.”

Nathan kept pace. “Evan’s at home. He’s not due in until ten.”

“Good.” Reed pointed at the mayor’s chest. “Stay here and show the firemen where to go.” The last thing Reed needed was a civilian getting in the way.

Nathan backed away from the doorway with a nod. He was a little too easily convinced, Reed thought as he pushed through the door. He pulled his collar over his mouth and nose as he navigated the stairs. Downstairs, yellow smoke filled the top half of the hall. “Hugh?”

Reed coughed at the invasion of smoke in his lungs and crouched to get under the worst of it.

“Hugh!”

The chief stood in front of the police station door, handkerchief-wrapped hand on the knob. Another hand splayed on the door, probably testing for heat. At the bottom crack, yellow smoke puffed and was sucked back under the door.

Backdraft.

“Don’t open that, Hugh!”

The sound of approaching sirens drowned out Reed’s warning. Hugh looked over his shoulder as he yanked the door open. “What?” he mouthed.

The door blew out with a gigantic ball of fire as oxygen rushed into the starved blaze. Reed’s world muted as the force of the explosion knocked him backward. He hit the floor flat on his spine. Pain slammed through his head as it bounced off the commercial tile. The little air he had in his lungs whooshed out. His chest locked down like someone had dropped an anvil on him, and he sucked at the smoky air in vain.

Reed rolled onto his hands and knees. His heartbeat echoed inside his head as he squinted into the haze. A blurry shape lay unmoving at the end of the hall. Reed crawled toward it. Heat seared the side of his face. Embers hit his exposed skin as burning pinpricks.

Huge black boots ran past his head.

“Easy, buddy.” A hollow voice sounded in his ear. Gloved hands hooked under his armpits and dragged him up the stairs. Pain zinged through his legs as his shins bounced on the treads.

“The chief.” Reed coughed and pointed into the smoke. Flames leaped from the doorway below.

Hugh’s office was an inferno.

A full block down on Main Street, Jayne turned the truck around and parked so she had a clear view of the municipal building. A fire engine roared past, sirens wailing. Down the street, people gathered across from the burning building. Firemen leaped from two engines and got to work with practiced efficiency amid the chaos.

Jayne gnawed on her lip. Several volunteer vehicles flew down Main. Single blue lights flashed from their car roofs. Emergency personnel milled about.

Jayne searched the crowd but couldn’t see Reed’s tall form anywhere.

Emergency workers sped up with a flurry of renewed urgency. Something was happening. Her heart stuttered. She locked her gaze on the front of the municipal building. No Reed. The firemen were pushing people away from the building, their movements insistent. Jayne cracked the window and strained to hear.

A muffled explosion split the air and rattled the windows of the Yukon. Glass shattered somewhere. The scent of smoke drifted to her nostrils on the frigid air. Up the street smoke poured from the front of the old building.