Sinister (31 page)

Emma shrugged her slim shoulders. “She doesn’t want you with Delilah. Maybe it’s because she’s jealous of your relationship with a Dillinger.”

“That’s not even worth answering,” he said.

“I’m just telling you,” she said, unconcerned, never realizing she’d left Hunter with a bad feeling that followed him all the way back to his house. As he climbed out of his truck, he yanked out his cell phone. Delilah hadn’t called him back. Maybe she was upset with how long it had taken him to call her.

Grimacing, he headed into the house. Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow he would straighten that out with Georgina and put the whole damn thing to rest. If her aversion to Delilah had something to do with Ira, he wanted to hear it.

 

 

He drove to the end of the rutted lane and then along the fence line, miles back from the Dillingers and Kincaids, toward the foothills of the mountains. He’d cut through a section of fence to make way for his vehicle and had found many other places to hide ever since the sheriff’s department had found his shed on Horseshoe Ridge where he’d kept Amber, and the cave he’d used for skinning. It hadn’t been easy, keeping ahead of them. There had been a lot of riders swarming over Dillinger and Kincaid property and beyond. He’d had to throw everything into the back of the truck and hide it beneath a blue tarp, but then, he didn’t actually stay at his chosen lairs; they were just used for his work.

The sheriff’s department’s scouting had eased up since the two fires at the Dillinger spread. The last few days they’d stayed closer to home, assuming, he suspected, that they felt he was closer in as well. All of it made it possible for him to concentrate on his next conquest.

“Delilah,” he said, savoring the syllables as he fingered the teeth in his pocket.

His cock was a flagpole as he pulled the truck into the heavy brush that he used as a blind. In the dark he removed the license plates, which were purposely covered with mud, and buried them about a quarter of a mile away. He had more in his lair, along with his tools. It was a long trek from where he felt comfortable to park to his new hideout, but he looked forward to slinging Delilah’s body over his shoulder and carrying her there. His mind swam with the thought.

But he had to be careful. He had to keep moving. If they found his lair again, he could take to other caves in the mountains, find a way back to his truck. He could live a good while without them finding him.

Delilah . . .

He’d wanted so badly to take her. Had slammed into her truck in a frenzy of desire. Had wanted to rip her away from that fucker, Kincaid. When he thought about her with him he felt downright sick, his stomach clenching when he pictured Kincaid’s hands sliding over her flesh. That flesh was
his
property.
His.
He could scarcely wait to slip his knife into that sweet place just below the epidermal layer, separating it from the muscle, slicing it free.

But it had been too bold a move. Before he could collect her she’d slammed on the horn. She would pay for that mistake with her lovely flesh.

Thinking about her was exquisite torture, but he indulged himself. First he would mount her like a stallion and they would make love to exhaustion. How long would that last before he took her skin? A week had seemed like an awfully long time with Amber. Too long. He’d wanted the lovemaking to last. He really had. A couple of weeks, more, but he hadn’t been able to. With Delilah it wouldn’t even be a week. Three days, he told himself. Maybe two ...

God, it had to happen soon. This waiting was excruciating.

He needed a plan. A way to make her his, before he went after the rest of them. They all deserved to die, but some deaths would be more pleasurable than others.

He smiled in the darkness. They didn’t even know he existed. He was invisible to them. They ran around like ants in all directions. Couldn’t imagine who was after them. He wanted to crow to someone ...
Delilah.
Wanted to tell her everything.

He pictured her tied up in his lair. Her hands behind her back, her legs pulled up to meet her hands so she was in a bow, arched. Her breasts and thighs straining. He would run his knife along her flesh, and then he would slide his cock into her wetness and ride her like the little whore she was. Daddy’s girl. All of them Daddy’s girls. They would do anything for Daddy’s money. But then they all had, hadn’t they?

But he would show ’em. One by one. And after she’d satisfied him he would pluck out a tooth. Just one ... well, maybe two. Trophies. Only then would he begin skinning. His mind burned with the thought. Maybe he would pour water on her and freeze her like he had Amber, leave her in some public place. God. He could see the terror on their faces when they found her and wondered who would be next.

But how to get her?

He ground his teeth, just thinking about the man. She was a bitch in heat around him. He’d seen them outside the Prairie Dog. If they’d been alone they would have thrown themselves into the dirt and rutted away. He’d smelled the desire on them.

If he wanted her, he just needed to get Kincaid first. He knew that. All he had to do was lure him into a trap and let Delilah know where he was.

She would come running.

Davis watched Kit saddle up, her rolled-up pack tucked behind the saddle. He didn’t like what he was seeing one bit. “It’s not safe for you to be by yourself.”

She didn’t answer, just tightened the girth and threw him a look that said she’d heard it all before and hadn’t believed it then, either.

“The animals will be fine,” he said. “We’ll sort it out later.”

“I’ll find ’em,” she said, which exasperated Davis.

They’d located several places along the fence line that divided Dillinger land from Kincaid land that had been broken out. Kincaid sheep had wandered onto Dillinger land and Dillinger cattle had taken a trip over to Kincaid property. Kit had galloped onto the Kincaid land without a qualm, but Davis had great respect for Georgina Kincaid and her “shoot first and ask questions later” attitude.

“You don’t want to go on Kincaid land uninvited,” he warned.

“I can handle them.”

“Ira won’t like it.”

She refused to answer.

“Kit, it’s too dangerous.”

She glared at him and he knew the more he said, the less she was going to listen. He’d really thought they’d reached a new understanding, but Kit lived by her own rules. He had to keep reminding himself of that fact. No, he didn’t like it one bit.

“Just wait until I can talk to Ira,” Davis said urgently, as Kit mounted Sirocco, the white and gold Arabian she preferred. When she acted like she hadn’t heard him, he said, “I’ll come with you.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“When will you be back?”

“When I’m done.”

He almost jumped on his own horse and tagged after her, but he knew enough about her to know the more he tried to control her, the further and further she would push him away.

“Damn it all,” he muttered fiercely as she rode off. He would have to talk to Ira and maybe he should warn Georgina Kincaid, just to make sure she didn’t do something stupid. But that woman was as cold as a mountain lake in winter.

After some hard thought he put in a call to Hunter.

 

 

Ricki was pacing in front of Sam’s desk. “I think I should be the one to follow up on this,” she said for the third time, and for the third time Sam said right back, “Let Katrina go through the list again.”

She growled in frustration and threw herself into the chair opposite his desk. “I don’t know what it means anyway,” she muttered.

She’d gotten a call from Catfish Griffin, who’d been at the Buffalo Lounge the night Amber Barstow had been kidnapped. He’d been on Katrina’s call list, but then Ricki had been the one to call him the second time and ask him about the cowboy at the bar in the black hat. He hadn’t offered anything new when they’d talked, but apparently he’d thought it over some, and when he phoned Ricki back he said, “I remember his boots. The guy at the bar that night. Had him some black alligator ones. If he’s really the sick bastard yer after, he don’t deserve those boots.”

Ricki had thanked him for the information, but with Brook in the car and in a race to find out if Delilah was all right, she’d shoved the information aside for the moment, then had had all night to ruminate on it. Now, she was convinced it might lead her to their killer, but Sam was infuriatingly calm and deliberate.

“I want to get this guy before something else happens to my family,” she said determinedly.

“Thought you were zeroing in on one of the Kincaids.”

“Only because of Georgina. This guy could be a Kincaid.”

“Hunter . . . or Blair . . . ?” Sam looked at her dubiously.

“There’s some kind of connection with the Kincaids. I don’t know what it is,” she growled. “We just need to find those boots. Black Hat killed Mia and Amber and burned the Pioneer Church down. Maybe he didn’t do the other fires. I don’t know.”

“He could have left Prairie Creek.”

“No.” Ricki was positive. “He’s around. And he’s got something against us Dillingers.” She looked at him. “You think I’m grasping at straws.”

“The boots are somewhere to start. If he’s like most of us around here, he’s probably wearing ’em every day. We don’t change ’em much.”

“Then I should go through the list again.”

“Maybe you should take a day off.”

“What does that mean?” she demanded.

He held up his hands. “A helluva lot’s happened, Ricki. To your family. Besides the fires and Amber Barstow and Mia Collins, we’re looking for whoever killed Pilar, and the truck with a bashed-up front end that ran your sister off the road. Just thought you might want to go home and circle the wagons.”

“This your way of trying to get rid of me?”

“You really think I’m trying to get rid of you?” he tossed right back at her.

Ricki felt a small smile steal across her lips. There was a reason she’d fallen in love with Sam Featherstone. “Then let me keep going on this. I’ll split the list with Katrina. I don’t care if they all think I’m bugging them.”

“Maybe you should try it from the other end. See if you can find out who wears boots like that.”

“Could be a lot of people.”

“Could be just one,” Sam rejoined.

She exhaled heavily, thinking hard. “What does this guy do when he’s not setting fires and killing people ... skinning them?”

“He goes to bars. He was at the Buffalo Lounge.”

“You’re right,” Ricki said with renewed energy. “So, maybe he’s been to the Prairie Dog, too. And maybe someone there saw him in a pair of black alligator boots.”

 

 

Hunter’s cell phone rang and he ignored it as he turned up the drive to his parents’ ranch for the second time in two days—a new record since he’d moved out when he was a teen.

He circled the house and parked in the back, climbing out of the cab into a crisp morning that was growing colder as gray clouds moved in. As he walked to the kitchen door, he glanced at caller ID and saw that it was Davis who’d called. That was odd enough to get his pulse thumping. Maybe the man had remembered something.

Punching the number into his cell, he said, “Davis, it’s Hunter. You called me?” when the Dillinger foreman answered. Hunter held his breath, waiting for some big reveal, but Featherstone just asked him to tell his mother that Kit Dillinger was finding errant Dillinger cattle and Kincaid sheep and moving them back to their respective properties. He wanted to make sure no one mistook her for a trespasser.

“I’ll tell her,” Hunter assured him. He hung up, disappointed. He’d wanted something to break.

Someone was after the Dillingers, but it wasn’t him. And it wasn’t the psychotic monster who’d filleted Amber Barstow and Mia Collins, either. There were two distinct crime patterns. Were they working together? Setting fires and killing people?

“Mom?” he called as he stepped inside the unlocked door. Normally he would have walked right in, but Georgina had been so testy the last time he’d shown up, he waited for a few moments before he stepped farther inside. His family had never felt the need to lock their doors, but in the quiet kitchen he felt a whisper of fear. So silent. He strode urgently through the kitchen and down the hall to the TV room.

The Major was in his chair, his eyes closed. Hunter walked in front of him, noting the white, wisping hair, the sunken cheeks. “Dad?” he asked, his pulse accelerating again. He reached forward to touch his father, make sure he was alive, when the Major pulled in a slow, labored breath.

Hunter relaxed slightly. His father wasn’t gone yet, though it didn’t look like death’s door was far away. He glanced at the table beside his father, noting the bottle of oxycodone.

Georgina came from somewhere down the hall and followed his gaze to the bottle of pills, her mouth tightening. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice slightly hushed.

“My father’s sick.”

She ignored his tone and brushed past him, heading toward the kitchen.

The Major’s eyes fluttered open and his breath caught. “Hunter?”

“Right here.” He clasped the older man’s hand.

His tongue slowly swept his dry lips, then he asked, “Did you talk to Price?”

“You said to call him if something happened to you.”

“Call him . . .” With a sigh, he sank back into the chair.

Hunter stared at him for a few moments, watching the shallow, irregular rise and fall of his chest. Then he left the room in search of his mother.

Georgina was in the kitchen, gazing out the back windows toward the fields that stretched toward the horizon and the distant mountains beyond. He’d seen her stand in just that position a lot of times, he realized. “Kit Dillinger is looking for Dillinger cattle on our land. Davis Featherstone wanted you to know in case you thought she was a trespasser.”

“That’s what you came for? To tell me that?”

“How many pills is Dad taking?”

She turned on him. “You’re going to criticize how I’m taking care of your father!”

“He’s dying,” Hunter said bluntly. “I was going to say it doesn’t matter. Just give him enough so he’s not in pain.”

“Don’t think you can tell me what to do.”

Hunter felt his temper rise. “Is the rumor true about you and Ira Dillinger?”

“What?” He’d shocked her.

“Did you have an affair with him? Is that why you’re doing this oil deal with him?”

“Your father’s dying and you think you suddenly have the right to say
that
to me?”

“You’re the one who hinted about some other rumor,” he reminded her.

“You’ve been talking to the Dillingers.”

Not really, but if that would get him answers, so be it. “Yes.”

“Delilah.” Georgina said her name as if it tasted bad. “She came by yesterday.”

“Here?”

“Yes, here. She didn’t find you? I thought she’d run right to you. She was looking for you and I told her that she couldn’t have you.”

Hunter stared at his mother in disbelief. He’d never been close to her, but more and more she was a stranger. “Didn’t you just tell me I had no right to tell you what to do?”

“This is different.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Georgina lifted her chin. “You want to know about me and Ira? Yeah. We loved each other once.”

Hunter stayed silent. Whatever had been between his mother and Ira, he doubted it was love.

“Judd wasn’t the only Dillinger catting around. Ira was worse. I was beautiful in those days and he had to have me.”

“Musta been a while ago.”

“A long while.” There was the faintest quirk of her lips. “About thirty-seven years ago.”

Hunter stared at her hard, wondering if she really believed what she was saying or if this was some sick Georgina trick. “Ira Dillinger’s not my father,” he said.

“Yes, he is. And Delilah Dillinger’s your half sister,” she reminded him with a bit of triumph in her voice.

It wasn’t true. He was too much like the Major. There was no way
Ira Dillinger
could be his father. He couldn’t believe the lengths she would go to. “Delilah is not my half sister,” he said through his teeth.

“What do you think started the feud? The Major and I didn’t have any problem with Ira and Rachel before Ira seduced me. And when your father found out, all hell broke loose.”

“I thought you were in love.”

“You just don’t want to believe it because you want to fuck your precious Delilah!”

“You’re lying. The feud was over land rights, and it started before you married the Major.”

“Who are you to tell me?” Twin spots of color rose in her cheeks.

“I don’t know why you’re doing this,” he grated out. “But it’s a lie.”

“Better keep your dick in your pants when you’re around your sister,” she snarled.

“I’m going to call her right now. Tell her what you’ve been saying. Get a DNA test. Prove you wrong.” He yanked his phone from his pocket and placed the call.

A flicker of fear crossed Georgina’s face, replacing her rage. “Leave her alone,” she muttered.

Hunter had called her bluff and now she was backpedaling. He could have throttled her!

Delilah answered on the third ring. “I’m sorry. I was separated from my cell phone and just got it back. It was ... in the Jeep . . .”

“Can I see you?” he asked urgently, ignoring Georgina’s growl of frustration behind him.

“Sure. When?”

“Right now. Are you at the lodge?”

“Let’s meet somewhere else,” she said. “Your house?”

“Okay. I—”

A loud, rasping gasp came from down the hall, a death rattle. Georgina’s head snapped around as did Hunter’s. His father. His body went cold. He knew, without being told, that the Major had just taken his last breath.

“I’ll have to call you back,” he told Delilah tersely.

“Should I go to your house?” Delilah asked.

“Let me call you back.”

He hung up and strode after his mother, who’d scurried around the corner and into the TV room.

The Major looked much as Hunter had left him except his eyes were half-closed and his mouth hung open further. His mother was leaning over him, grabbing his arm, checking his pulse.

“He’s gone,” she said.

In disbelief, Hunter looked from his father back down at the cell phone still in his hand. He touched the button for Delilah’s number again and when she answered, said, “The Major’s gone. We’ll have to meet later. I’ll call you when I can . . .”

 

 

Delilah hung up in shock. She’d been striding toward the garage, ready to head out and meet Hunter at his house, but now she retraced her steps to the kitchen. She’d spent the night in the room Jen had vacated and had gotten up early, prowling around, anxious to get her cell phone back. When Tyler came down she asked him to take her to the auto body shop and sure enough, there was her phone, but it was dead.

She’d just gotten home, plugged the cell into its charger on the kitchen counter, and had just seen Hunter’s message when he’d called. She was so glad to hear the phone ring, she’d damn near dropped the thing while sweeping it into her hand.