Skin Heat (33 page)

Zeke ignored Mrs. Harper, racing through the house to the veranda doors he’d used to flee the night of the party. He slammed them open and went into the dark. Now that he let himself think about her again, now that he wasn’t blocking all signs of her existence, he could smell her on the night wind.

Sour. Acrid. Terror. Somewhere, Neva was fighting for her life.

Neva woke in
darkness.

She remembered coming out of the clinic and pausing to admire the Christmas lights, then a stinging in her neck. Everything went sideways after that, no more than bits and pieces. The backseat of a car floated up, swimming as if through disco lights, and next, a rumbling engine. Broken whispers.
Wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not like this.
Someone had moaned those words with such pain, that she had felt almost sorry for the speaker. And then the lights went out.

Damn. I was drugged.
Knowing about the potential danger hadn’t saved her in the end. It had seemed so harmless, that pause, admiring the white lights twined around the poles, and taking pleasure in how they twinkled in the dark. She’d been sad since breaking up with Zeke, and it was nice to enjoy a simple thing after a long day.
God, I’m so stupid.

Panic tried to swamp her and she fought it off.
No. Not your fault. You didn’t do this. Your job is to stay calm and find a way out. You’re not a victim. You won’t become a statistic.
An evil little voice whispered,
Wonder if the other women thought that at first, too.
The world swam again, and the next time she knew anything, she was somewhere else. Hard floor—and it reeked.

Her wrists had been tied behind her back, and she ached all over. Getting out of her bonds had to be the first item on a long, impossible list. A tiny sob escaped her.

“I’m not going to let him hurt you.”

“Luke? Oh my God,
Luke
.” If she hadn’t gone mad, that was definitely her brother’s voice. If only she could see—

“Shh. Try to stay calm. As soon as he realizes you’ve come around, he’ll be back to finish us.”

“Why’s he doing this?”

“He never said. The only thing I know is that he wants me to watch you die before he kills me.” His flat tone worried her, as if he had gone far beyond the emotions wracking her.

She trembled with fear and cold. Behind her, she felt the individual blocks of a cement wall. Between her fingers trailed loose dirt. It stank of human excrement and urine, mildew and must. A faint breeze blew in from somewhere, indicating they weren’t too far from freedom. But in which direction?

“Do you know who he is?”

“The voice is a little familiar, maybe, but he stands behind the light so I can’t get a good look at him.”

So it was someone they knew. So hard to fathom—someone in Harper Creek hated them that much. Their parents must be going crazy, losing not one child, but two.
And Luke doesn’t even know about Dad . . .
but this wasn’t the time to tell him. She had to fight past the fuzz in her head and come up with a plan.

“What can you tell me about him?”

“He wasn’t himself when he brought you in. Out of control and raving. I think he’d been drinking. I never smelled it on him before tonight . . . and he’d sometimes come in several times a week to stare at me. Taunt me.”

“Christ, you’ve been here for months. You need a doctor.”

Luke made a soft sound. “Forget that. You only have one chance.” He paused, and she heard him breathing. “I’m too weak . . . I’ve been here too long. But I can help you get away. I’ll distract him.”

Sickness roiled in her stomach. “No. I’m not leaving you.”

“I’m lost,” Luke said softly. “And if you stay, so will you be. When it’s time, run and don’t look back.”

“Run
where
?”

She couldn’t see the way out, nor did she know where they were. The dark assumed nightmare shapes. Neva had no idea how Luke had survived with his sanity intact; she’d only been awake for a few moments, and she was already sick with terror. Her brother was far stronger than she’d known.

“He comes in from the right. In daytime, you can see enough to get a sense of the place. It’s a root cellar, though I couldn’t tell you exactly where.”

“What happened, Luke?”

“I stopped to help somebody I thought had car trouble.”

That tracked. So when he’d tried it with her, he had the assurance of having used the lure successfully before. Something must have happened, leading him to grab her boldly outside the clinic and say
to hell with finesse.
There might even have been witnesses to her abduction; Armando’s had still been open when she left work.

“I appreciate you wanting to save me, but we’re both getting out of here.” Trying to be quiet, she wriggled around and then scooted until she could feel him behind her. “Can you cut me loose?”

“The chain’s rough and rusted. I might be able to saw through. I can’t unpick the knots. I told you . . .” His voice fell, nearly soundless. “I’m . . . not well.”

All the more reason for them to get the hell out of here. Maybe Luke couldn’t run, but if they could slip away before the maniac returned, he could hide somewhere. The most important thing had to be getting out of here. Her shoulders were already burning from being pulled back for a few hours. She couldn’t imagine how Luke felt.

They didn’t speak while he worked on her bonds. The sawing occasionally hurt, but she made no noise. Each heartbeat sounded insanely loud in the dark. Neva grew conscious of Luke’s labored breathing, like there was fluid in his lungs. Shit, he hadn’t been exaggerating. All this time in the cold, improper nutrition—not to mention the darkness and maybe festering wounds, too—God, she had to save him. Fate wouldn’t be so cruel as to prove her intuition right—that Luke was alive against all odds—only to make her watch him die. Or worse, force her to save her own skin while he sacrificed himself.

No, that wasn’t happening.

“How’s it coming?” she whispered.

His fingers brushed over the bonds in a rattle of chain. “About halfway. It’s starting to fray.”

“Enough for me to break it if I strain?”

“I don’t think so.”

She tried. While the rope gave a little, it wasn’t enough, and she only succeeded in hurting her shoulders. “Keep at it. Once you untie me, I’ll find a way to get you out of those cuffs.”

“So stubborn,” he breathed. “You always were.”

“That’s why I’m a vet now and not a politician’s wife.”

Fear wanted to bubble up through the cracks in her defenses, but she refused to let it. This situation would’ve been much worse if she’d woken alone. Luke helped her keep it together, whether he knew it or not. If he could survive as long as he had, then she could manage this, too, however impossible the task seemed.

At last the final knot snapped and she pulled free. Pins and needles prickled through her forearms, and she was cold, but things could be a lot worse. Neva felt her way around the room, finding with her fingertips what felt like animal bones.
Oh, Christ.
A soft whimper escaped her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just looking for something to cut you free.”

This time, he didn’t try to convince her to leave him. Most likely he knew it wouldn’t work. Waste of breath. “Let me think. I know what’s down here . . .” He trailed off on a sigh. “There’s nothing. No tools. Just a few jars on the far shelves.”

She had already worked that out for herself. “Then you may not like plan B.”

“I like being here even less.”

Luke had always been able to make her smile. “Point. I need you to be quiet then, no matter how much it hurts.”

“What?”

“I’m going to pop your thumbs and pull your hand out before it swells. I’ll have to do it to both hands. I’m sorry.”

“Quit talking about it. I’m ready.”

Maybe he was. She wasn’t. The plan sounded good in the abstract, but in practice, she hated the idea of hurting him. Nevertheless, she steeled herself, found his hand in the dark, and brailled the location of the shackle versus his thumb. He’d lost weight since they had been attached, so that would make it easier. Neva took a deep breath and snapped, then in a quick motion, she dragged the shackle over his hand.

Luke swallowed a sound, but she didn’t think it would be audible in the house, though they seemed to be on the other side of the foundation wall. His breath came in pained rasps, and she put a hand on his filthy hair. She wanted so bad to hug him but they didn’t have time for that. They needed to run. Right now, in her shoes, somebody else might be making plans on how to kill the bastard; she just wanted to save her brother.

“Ready?” she whispered.

With her palm on his head, she felt him nod. Time for round two. This time she went even faster because she knew what to do, and he swallowed his scream. He wrenched forward, his thin chest colliding with hers. Neva held him for a few seconds, and then she got her hands beneath his elbows. Using the wall for purchase, she levered him to his feet.

“This way,” he said. “Try not to step on anything.”

Each step they took felt like a mile. Neither of them was particularly steady on their feet, Luke from the long captivity and the fresh injuries she’d inflicted, and Neva from the residual effects of being drugged. Still, they managed to get to the stairs: old rickety things of creaking wood. If the wind hadn’t kicked up outside it certainly would’ve given them away. Any moment she expected to see a murderer’s form looming above them, a boot lashing out to kick them back down into the dark. Terror sent tremors through her. She went up behind Luke, sometimes shoving him up another step when he faltered. He fumbled with the latch. Oh no. If they’d gotten this far, only to be turned back—

“Is the door locked?”

“I can usually hear him putting the chains on. Don’t think he remembered this time. Something was wrong—and got it.” With a grunt of effort, her brother pushed the doors wide. They banged against the ground with a soft thud, rattling the chains the killer had left open in distraction or despair, whatever drove him.

Luke scrambled up, falling forward onto his knees. She came up beside him. Nothing had ever been more welcome than the brisk, fresh breeze pouring over her.
Damp ground, and the scent of pine . . .
Neva spun, trying to figure out where they were. She’d never seen this house before, set deep in the forest. Boards had rotted away in places like jagged, graying teeth. Someone had covered all the windows in black tar paper. It looked . . . desolate, ruined, like a place that campers found in the woods, just before the axe-wielding maniac beheaded one of them.

This is not time for my imagination to kick in.
If she let it, she’d conjure demons in each dry branch and gust of wind. Already the cracking limbs reminded her of breaking bone. They needed to find a road or a house with normal people inside. Something slammed nearby, like a door, or possibly breaking furniture. Had the bastard heard them? They needed as much of a head start as they could manage, and they couldn’t count on him leaving them alone forever. It had been a lucky break that she shook off the drugs quicker than expected.

“I know you’re tired,” she said desperately. “But get up, Luke. Please.”

Moonlight emphasized the new lines of pain and exhaustion etched into his face as he pulled himself up. God, he was a shadow of his former self; down in the dark she hadn’t realized. Neva pushed aside the pity also. It wouldn’t save them.

As a lone coyote howl split the night, they broke into a run.

 

Zeke nearly blew
up his truck getting from Harper Court to Julie’s house on Ringer Road. He didn’t think she’d be there. But maybe Julie knew something. She generally left the clinic before Neva, who had gone missing at some point between work and Julie’s place. Mrs. Harper had called the sheriff after she rang up her husband. Raleigh found out for them right away that Neva’s car wasn’t in the lot.

And then her mom just kept moaning,
It’s happening again, just like Luke,
over and over, her dread scaling up until the whole house stank of it. He’d stayed until Harper himself got in and then he took off at a dead run. Let them do their own thing and go through channels. He’d use his godforsaken curse to find her.

As he got out of the car at Julie’s, he still had a sense of Neva, but it was vague and impossible to follow. Not like he could just put his nose to the ground and run. He wasn’t a dog, though that would be fucking handy right now.

Another smell blazed in the dark. If it had a color, it would be red: coppery and darkly sweet. Surely not. Surely this was just like the owl and the mouse. He couldn’t trust himself. Zeke ran up the front walk, raised his hand to knock, and then froze. The front door stood open, light streaming onto the porch to reveal smears on the tile. Carols played merrily on the stereo; somebody was singing about a white Christmas while he stared at the blood.

He backed away as lights blazed up from behind. Another car was pulling into the drive behind.
Fucking Hebert. He didn’t waste any time.

“Got a mess in there,” he said as the agent opened his car door. “Didn’t go in. Didn’t touch anything. Know Neva is missing, I guess?”

If the guy listened to police chatter on his radio, he knew. That was doubtless how he’d gotten here so fast. Raleigh had been lighting a fire under every deputy, on or off duty, for the last hour and a half. They all knew if they didn’t find her before dawn, chances went way down they’d find her at all, at least, not living and breathing. She’d become a murderer’s toy, all painted and posed. A roar built behind his eyes; he could actually hear his own heartbeat inside his skull.