Shadow of Vengeance (36 page)

“Friday? That’s so soon.”

“I know. Not enough time to fully enjoy myself. As much as I hate to deviate from my plan, I must improvise.” Belt raised, he approached the pledge. “Starting now.”
 

The leather whistled through the air just before it cracked along the boy’s abdomen. The puke howled in pain and twisted his body to avoid the next blow. And as he wielded blow after blow, just as the puke’s father had done to him twenty-five years ago, he released his rage on the pledge. The boy might not deserve the pain and torture, but he couldn’t quite whip Junior.
 

Yet.

*

The darkness normally scares me. Most nights I lie in this hospital bed watching the shadows of vengeance creep along the wall, waiting for it to reach out and snare me. Drag me into a living nightmare that just won’t quit. And while those shadows linger, tonight they’re not dragging me into the fringes of madness. Excitement has replaced fear. Tonight sleep eludes me, but not because I refuse to give into the nightmares, but because my thoughts are solely on tomorrow and the hope the new day will bring.

I love my new soft-spoken speech therapist and her positive attitude. From the moment I awakened from the coma, my attitude has been anything but positive. Unable to move and talk, unable to forget the past and the pain I’d caused…I couldn’t find a sliver of hope in my broken heart. All I could do was endure this institution I’ve been forced to call home. Live in a shell with no means of escape. But now I not only have my dear friend, Lois, I have Bunny.

Embarrassment momentarily knots my belly, but I quickly shove it away. I didn’t quite make the best first impression with her. At least, not in my mind. But when Olivia started to tell Bunny about what had happened to me…I couldn’t handle it. I wanted to. I wanted to hear everything they had to say, everything they knew. What the police knew. Unfortunately, if anything had been said, it had happened after I’d blacked out. But that no longer matters. Yesterday, the day before, the weeks and months before that…none of it matters.
 

A fantastic flutter unknots my stomach, then zips and weaves its way into my chest. The heart rate monitor to the left accelerates with a series of beeps. If I could smile, I would—big and toothy. Tomorrow things will change. I believe it. I feel it.
 

Bunny had left early today with the promise she’d see me tomorrow. She also promised she’d bring something with her that would give me what I haven’t had in over a year and a half. Mobility. Control. Speech.
 

The beeping monitor rang in rapid sequences. If I don’t settle down, the nurses will burst into my room and possibly sedate me. I don’t want that. Clear headed is what I need to be if I’m going to work with Bunny tomorrow.
 

Closing my eyes, I picture steering my wheelchair throughout the ward. Knowing Lois, she’ll probably joke about racing her, which would be completely inappropriate and immature. It also might be the first thing
I
suggest we do when I finally have the chance to talk. Bunny explained that my voice would be synthetic for now, but that’s okay. I’ll be able to express myself. Tell Lois what a wonderful, beautiful person I think she is, and that I love her and need her to fight the cancer. Tell Lois, tell them all, that my name isn’t Jane, or Janie. Tell them to call me…

I snap my gaze to the ceiling. I’d thought my earlier hope had chased those shadows of vengeance away, but they’re here. Looming over me in a thick, foggy cloud of fear and despair.
 

A warm tear slips down my cheek as anxiety and dread settles in my chest and tightens my throat. I’m supposed to be dead. My killer
thinks
I’m dead. If I can talk, if I tell the police my name and who brought me to this place, my killer’s vengeance will be tenfold. It used to be I didn’t know enough, now I know too much.

If I talk, I’m as good as dead.
 

Chapter 15

Back at Joy’s, Rachel slumped on the bed and grabbed her ringing cell phone. If she hadn’t been waiting for the call from Chihiro regarding the DNA evidence—if there was any—left behind on Sean’s clothes, she would have let it roll into voice mail. She wanted, needed time to process everything that had happened today. What she needed was a good, long cry.

Before she could attend her pity party, she needed to take care of business first. Clearing her throat, she answered the phone. “Hey, Chihiro. Please tell me you have some good news.”

“Bad day?” the other woman asked.

Bill’s image didn’t pop into her head right away, but Hal’s did. When she and Owen had met him, Walter and Joy at Bill’s house, the man hadn’t bothered to hide his grief and anger. Her throat tightened and she swallowed hard as she remembered how Hal, a tough, gritty man who had served two tours in Vietnam, broke down in a way she hadn’t expected nor wanted to see again. Watching the big man openly weep over the loss of his son had torn her in two. Witnessing the way Joy had cried along with him, cradling him to her as if he were a child, had been more than she could bear. She’d been uncomfortable standing in the same room with them, surrounded by their sobs and signs of Bill. His pictures, trophies, the afghans his mother had knitted for him before she’d died, his sweet, sad Golden Retriever who had lain curled in a corner as if he knew…

“Yeah,” she finally answered. “Today was pretty bad.”

“Sorry to hear,” Chihiro said, her tone quiet, empathetic. “I emailed you the results, but wanted to go over a few that I thought might be pertinent.”

Rachel glanced at her closed laptop, but didn’t have the energy to move across the room to retrieve it. “Great, what do you have?”

“Let’s start with what I don’t have…other than Sean, there was no other human DNA on his clothes, meaning the kidnapper left no traces of himself.”

“Damn.”

“But, here are some interesting things I
did
find,” Chihiro said. “Dog hair—specifically from a Golden Retriever. I confirmed that with one of our techs who’s an expert on animal DNA. There were also traces of limestone and dolomite, both of which are commonly found in the area where you’re investigating, especially along or near rivers. What really intrigued me? I found components of loose, pigmented mineral powder.”

Rachel regretted answering Chihiro’s call. The dog hair wasn’t any help at this point. Bill had been known to drive his dog around town. The limestone and dolomite weren’t much help, either. Especially if the two substances could be found all over the area. Now mineral powder? She’d been hoping for blood, or some sort of body fluid that could result in a DNA profile of their killer. Instead Chihiro was giving her a geology report.

“Okay,” she said, disappointed, and now in real need for a pity party. “Thanks for the quick turnaround. I’ll look over your email and—”

“Wait,” the tech said. “Do you realize what the pigmented mineral powder is?”

Rachel sat straighter. “I assumed it was along the lines of the other traces of minerals you found.”

“No. It’s makeup.”

“As in cosmetics?”

“Exactly.”

Moments later, after she disconnected the call with Chihiro, she stared out the window. Darkness had swallowed Bola several hours ago, but had also settled in her heart and soul. As much as she wanted to process Chihiro’s findings, she couldn’t. Not now. Not yet. Never good with emotions, she had a hard time putting her finger on the ones making her want to scream and cry. The overwhelming sadness and grief consuming her, she understood. She’d come to like Joy, and while she didn’t know Hal, he’d saved her brother. Sympathy didn’t begin to encompass the sorrow and heartache she harbored on their behalf.
 

A tear slipped down her cheek as she remembered watching Hal pick up a framed photograph of him and Bill. In the picture, they’d both been wearing hip-high fishing waders, and dangling large fish from hooks. Hal had lovingly stroked the photo, then turned away, his shoulders and back moving as he wept.

Swiping at her face, she moved toward the window and stared at her reflection. Who was she to think she could do this? Bill was dead. Josh was missing. They were no closer today than they were two days ago, to finding him and stopping a killer.
 

Her chin trembled and more tears spilled down her cheeks. She let them. Hoping to God they could somehow cleanse her, wash away everything she’d seen today. But as she stood in front of her reflection, her vision distorted and blurred by her tears, Bill’s image emerged.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she smacked her palms to her ears and shook her head. Trying desperately to ward off the memories, to shake off the sounds of cawing crows. But Bill remained. Lifeless. Eyes plucked, skin torn…

She quickly reached for the blind, and pulled it shut, blocking her reflection. Breathing hard, she turned around, looking, searching for…something, anything to stop the maddening thoughts and emotions. She needed a punching bag. If the temperature hadn’t been nearing zero, a long, hard run might have worked. The energy seething throughout her body needed a portal of release.
 

Grabbing a tissue, she blew her nose, then paced. With each pass through the small room, she tried to convince herself that she’d done everything right, that the investigation was solid, but also seriously messed up. That she wasn’t the one messing it up, either.
 

No. I just got Bill killed.

Her stomach cramped and knotted. Sobs wracked her body as she dropped to the floor. Pressing her forehead against the soft area rug, she exorcized the high hopes and optimism she’d felt at the beginning of the investigation. She purged her goal of being a field agent. And with it, she banished her ridiculously silly dreams of action and adventure.
 

This life wasn’t for her. She couldn’t handle death up close and personal. She couldn’t—

A warm hand rubbed her back. She froze, but didn’t bother to look up and over her shoulder. Through her crying frenzy she hadn’t heard Owen walk into the room, but she knew it was him. He’d only intimately touched her a few times, but she’d relished those brief encounters to the point she’d memorized every nuance.
 

Bringing the tissue to her nose, she drew in a deep breath, then whispered, “Please. Go.”

Instead of obeying, his knees hit the area rug. In an instant he had her in his lap and cradled to his solid chest. He smoothed his hand over her hair, then kissed the top of her head. “I can’t.”

The anguish in his voice forced her to look up at him. He half-smiled, touched her cheek and swiped away her tears. “You’re so strong. I can’t believe you’ve managed to keep this locked inside you all day.”

“I don’t feel strong. I feel weak, and guilty, and so…sad.”

Shifting her body so she sat squarely in his lap, he pressed his lips to her forehead, then hugged her. “I understand.” He rubbed her back, his firm fingers working the knots along her shoulders and spine. “Weakness, guilt, sadness…if you don’t feel those things, if you don’t let them out now and then, they’ll destroy you.” He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her face. “That would kill me.”

Confused by his admission, and unsure how to react, she did what she did best. Sarcasm. “Nice word choice.”

Disappointment showed in his eyes as he studied her face. “I’ve always loved your sarcasm and jokes.” He cupped her cheek in his palm. “But sometimes I wish that maybe once in a while you’d stop hiding.”

If she had the energy, she might have stiffened at the remark. She didn’t hide, she kept herself protected. For years she’d watched her mother destroy her life with one messed-up relationship after another, openly wearing her emotions on her sleeve, inviting people—and not just the useless men in her life—to knock her down until she’d become needy and pitiful. At a very young age, Rachel had decided she would not be anything like her mom. And if that meant being alone, without many friends, so what? “It beats the hell out of being hurt,” she admitted, then closed her eyes with regret. They weren’t talking about relationships. They were talking about how to deal with an investigation, the murder victims and all that other horrible crap.

“I have no intention of hurting you. Say what’s on your mind,” he murmured, his voice soft yet filled with so much conviction, she opened her eyes.
 

He already
had
hurt her.

But she shoved that thought aside and again reminded herself what they
were
talking about…Bill and how she was handling his death. Owen had plenty of experience with murder victims and their families. She trusted him. Beyond that, she could use someone to lean on. She could use a friend to help her deal with her doubts and insecurities. And despite her shitty attitude toward Owen, despite the hurt she’d endured since that mistletoe kiss, he’d been a good friend to her.
 

“I…it’s more than that,” she said. “I’ve wanted Ian to give me a chance to work in the field for a long time. But now that I’m doing it, I don’t think I’m ready. Seeing Bill today…I’ve analyzed crime scenes through photos and videos, but I’ve never actually seen one.” Tears filled her eyes. “I let it become personal, especially later, when we went to Bill’s house. Seeing how hard this is on his dad, Joy and Walter.” She choked on a sob. “The way Bill’s dog just lay on the floor as if he knew…Owen, I just don’t think I’m cut out for this. I’m having second thoughts and at the same time, I’m second guessing myself.”