Midnight Exposure (28 page)

So much for maintaining control. Jayne made him feel things he’d never before experienced.

He levered onto his side and watched her recover. Her body was limp and damp, flushed all over, tempting him to start again. He would never have enough of her.

The phone rang and Reed reluctantly picked it up. The caller ID screen displayed a Philadelphia exchange. Not trusting his voice, he handed the receiver to Jayne. She answered in a sleepy voice Reed hoped her brother would attribute to actual sleep.

Two minutes later she tossed the phone aside, rolled over, and draped an arm across his chest. Her eyes flickered with regret. “No flights tonight. My brothers are driving up. They’ll be here midday tomorrow.”

Reed stood and scooped her off the floor. He carried her to his bed and crawled in with her. The sheets were cold. Jayne curled up against his body for warmth. He had only one night to hold her close. He was going to savor every second of it. Regardless of his intentions or the fullness of his heart right now, Jayne had a
life halfway down the East Coast, one that didn’t include a stalker. Her brother’s call confirmed that she’d be much safer at home.

It would be wrong to ask her to stay. He brushed a hand over her hair. But his heart was a selfish bastard. That’s exactly what it wanted.

He descended into the bowels of his house. Even through the soles of his boots, a chill settled into his feet as they hit the concrete.

With skeletal fingers he set a Tupperware bowl containing oatmeal cakes in the box next to a Ziploc baggie of mistletoe pollen. His hands were gnarled, bone-thin from weight loss, and his grip weaker than it should be for a large man.

He retrieved the wooden bowl and set it in the box with the other things for the ceremony. And the note he’d carefully written for his loved ones. If he wasn’t saved by the ritual, he didn’t want to go on.

No question. No hesitation. No indecision.

He knew what was coming. He’d seen other members of his family waste away. If this didn’t work, there’d be no more living for him, just a slow torturous death. Better to die on his own terms, with a shred of dignity. He could start over in the afterlife. Not so awful for him. He was tired of it all, anyway.

He needed to think about his family here on Earth, though. His salvation would be theirs as well. This disease had plagued his kin for generations. There was no reason to think it would end with his death. More hinged on this upcoming ceremony than his own wretched existence. Much more. His bloodline. The suffering of future generations.

A few minutes later he climbed the stairs and closed the basement door. The hinges squeaked. He winced at the noise and shot a look to the recliner in front of the TV. The body sleeping in the comfortable chair didn’t stir.

His body ached to sink into blessed unconsciousness. He could no longer remember when he’d last even dozed. Yesterday? The day before?

Would death be a relief? Would he be rid of this disease when he moved on to the afterlife? He could only hope.

He tucked the package under his arm and crept into the mudroom. His heavy outerwear hung neatly on pegs, dry and ready. He shrugged into the parka, ski mask, boots, and gloves. The storm had abated, but he was not so foolish as to ignore winter conditions. His life was in its last season, his time as limited as the remaining days of winter.

He slipped out into the night. Above him, moonlight filtered through blowing clouds. The weather would be cold and clear for the solstice. Tonight he’d check on Jayne, make sure she was safe, and present her with a gift befitting a goddess.

A goddess whose sacrifice could save him. As befitting her station, he must pay homage to her with an offering.

Then he had to get rid of the man who stood in his way, Reed Kimball. As soon as Kimball was dead, Jayne was his.

He opened the shed and started up the snowmobile. The shed was far enough from the house that the engine noise wouldn’t wake anyone.

Hopefully, he’d be finished with his quest and back in the house before the rest of the household woke. He turned the machine in the direction of the woods and the game trail that led north, toward Reed Kimball’s house.

A noise jerked Reed out of a light sleep. In his arms, a sated and exhausted Jayne slept on. Her sleek limbs were curled up, her smooth back pressed into his chest. Reed glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. Two hours remained until dawn. He listened for a few seconds, then pressed a kiss to her soft shoulder and rested his head on the pillow.

A low growl came from the other room. Where was the dog?

Reed eased away from Jayne and slid out from under the thick comforter into the cold of his bedroom. He stepped into a pair of jeans on his way into the hall. At the threshold to the living room, he paused, eyes searching the dim room.

Sheba stood facing the window. The dog growled again, deep in her throat. She took a stiff-legged step toward the back of the house. Keeping to the shadows, Reed moved to the side of the window and peered through the gap between the blinds and the wall. Behind the glass, darkness shrouded the yard.

His gaze scanned the tree-ringed clearing. Reed could just make out the dark shapes of trees and outbuildings on the all-white background. Something flashed in his peripheral vision. The hairs on the back of his neck tingled as he shifted his line of sight to the corner of his workshop. A dark shape faded into the shadows. Then it was gone.

Reed blinked. Had he imagined it? No. He’d seen something out there. He glanced down at the dog. And so had Sheba. Her ears were still pricked toward the window; her hackles stood on end. But what was outside?

An animal?

He eyed the doorframe above his workshop entrance and estimated the height of the shape was within a foot of the top trim. Deer, elk, moose, and bear were all tall enough.

So was a man.

Tension vibrated down Reed’s spine.

Could be nothing. Could be a moose. Hell, it could be his closest neighbor Jim, chasing after his kid’s pain-in-the-ass pony again.

But on the other hand…

Reed slipped back into the bedroom and glanced at Jayne, sleeping soundly, her face a perfect, pale oval in the darkness. One slim, bandaged hand poked out of the covers. Resolve solidified in his gut. He wouldn’t take the chance that a threat lurked outside. She’d been through enough.

Better safe than sorry.

“Jayne. Wake up,” he whispered on his way past the bed.

“Ugh.”

He entered the closet and sought the safe on the top shelf. For the first time in five years, he welcomed the weight of the nine-millimeter Glock in his hand. He curled his fingers around the familiar grip and removed the trigger lock before loading the weapon. The magazine slid smoothly into its well and clicked into place. Though he hadn’t carried the weapon, he’d practiced regularly and kept the gun clean.

Tucking the gun into his waistband, Reed ducked back into the bedroom and tapped Jayne on the shoulder. The metal was cold on his belly as he leaned over.

Reed tapped her again. “Come on, Jayne. Wake up. It’s important.”

Reed’s sharp whisper caught her awakening attention. She rolled over and blinked up at him. “What?”

“I saw something outside. I’m going to check it out.”

“No. Wait.” Jayne stumbled out of bed and grabbed his robe from the foot of the bed. She nodded at the gun. “Do you have another?”

“Can you shoot?”

Jayne nodded. Her eyes sharpened. “Oh, yeah.”

Reed retrieved his backup piece, a subcompact baby Glock, and pressed it and a magazine into Jayne’s outstretched hand. While he tugged a sweater over his head, she checked for a round in the chamber and loaded the weapon with reassuring competence.

Jayne followed him into the mudroom. He slid his bare feet into boots and drew on a parka. Then Reed headed for a littleused side door, where there wasn’t an overhead light fixture to highlight his presence. Pointing the barrel at the floor, he pulled back on the slide and released it. The bullet entered the chamber with a comforting
snick
.

The dog butted her head against the closed door and growled. Reed pushed her back. He didn’t need her getting in the way, tangling with a bear or whatever else was out there. If he needed to pull the trigger, he didn’t want to worry about hitting his dog. Nor did he want her to spoil any element of surprise. In the house. Sheba could protect Jayne. “Stay.”

Jayne grabbed her collar and tugged the dog away from the doorway. “Be careful.”

Sheba whined. Whatever was out there, she wanted a piece of it.

“Lock this behind me and stay out of sight.” Reed stepped off the small stoop. Ice crunched underfoot where the top layer had melted and refrozen. There was no way to walk silently, but he stayed in the shadows as he circled around the house. He stopped at the corner and peered around. Ice pellets blew off the roof and barraged his face.

His workshop sat on the rear of the yard, right at the edge of the trees. A man could move in the thick woods with less difficulty than out in the open, where the drifts were thigh-high. In his dark jacket, he’d be an optimal target against the backdrop of pure white. Reed scanned the area, looking for a place to cross the open space and come up behind the workshop.

He chose a line of shrubs. Adrenaline pumped hot through his veins as he crossed to the trees. Ice crunched underfoot. He exhaled as he stepped behind a mature oak. An intruder would have to be stone deaf not to hear him coming. He, however, didn’t hear any indication of a trespasser. Maybe it had been just an animal. Leaning against the fat trunk, he scanned the perimeter. The area behind the workshop was clear.

Reed’s eyes moved across the landscape. The yard was empty. Nothing moved in the trees. He approached the workshop from the rear. One glance down at the ground had him ducking behind the building.

A trail of human footprints led from the rear of the outbuilding and disappeared into the forest. As Reed inspected the tracks, the high-pitched whine of a snowmobile engine cut through the night air and faded rapidly.

Shit.

Reed turned and stared back at the house. The ground was elevated slightly behind the shop. From his position, he had a
clear view of the entire rear of the house. How long had the man been out here?

The urge to go after Jayne’s stalker surged in Reed’s veins. The tracks would be easy to follow, but the guy had a whopping head start. Then there was the possibility that the man would double back and ambush Reed.

Or return to the house.

Jayne would be unprotected. She’d be alone, vulnerable. As Madeline had been. Drawing Reed away could be the plan if Jayne’s captor really wanted her back—which he obviously did.

The man pursued her with terrifying determination.

Reed’s gut clenched as a cold wind blew ice crystals off the workshop roof and dumped them onto his head. Cold water invaded the neck of his coat and slid down his spine. A shiver rode behind it. He circled the house but found no other signs of the trespasser. He listened. Nothing but the wind.

Had he scared the man off for the night?

Reed pivoted and surveyed the yard once more. The clouds shifted and a beam of moonlight fell across the yard. In the tree next to his workshop, something glittered.

Reed backtracked. About six feet up on the tree trunk, something hung. It was circular and shiny. He ducked into his workshop for a flashlight. Hanging on a nail driven into the tree trunk, the object was twisted metal, about eight to ten inches in diameter and open on one end. Reed jogged back to the house. Jayne met him at the side door. The gun was in her hand, ready. He stomped his boots on the porch.

“Well?” She slid the dead bolt home.

“Somebody was out there.”

“He knows where I am.” Jayne’s face went grim.

“Everyone in town knows where you are.” Reed clumped into the living room and pulled his digital camera from his desk drawer. “There’s something outside, in the tree. I’m going to take a few pictures before I bring it in. Can you find a clean pillowcase in the linen closet and lay it on the kitchen table?”

Jayne shot him a confused look but nodded. “Is he gone?”

“Yeah. I’ll be right back.” On his way through the kitchen, he snagged the barbeque tongs from the drawer. Reed photographed the strange object before using the tongs to lift it from the tree. It was heavier than he’d expected.

In the kitchen, he laid it carefully on the pillowcase. The gold shone dully against the chocolate-brown cotton. The metal had a lack of definition, a smoothness that suggested centuries of wear.

Like the Celtic coin that had been found under the teenager’s remains.

Reed stripped off his coat and tossed it over the nearest chair back. “What do you think it is?”

“I don’t know. Looks like something that should be in a museum. Some kind of artifact. Necklace maybe?” Her nose wrinkled as she concentrated on the odd engravings that adorned the dull gold. Small spirals decorated the flattened ends. “These engravings look like those symbols that were all over the basement walls. The same ones he wrote on my car and on the door at the inn.”