WHO KILLED EMMALINE? (24 page)

Okay, now I’m starting to really panic. My heart is racing in my chest, and my breathing has grown ragged. “Owen, you can’t do this! I’ll leave town! I’ll go away!” I promise desperately.

“Cord will just follow you, and Dane loves him too much to just let him go off on his own. Like it or not, you’re a problem for me, Krista.”

I gaze at him as I feel tears stinging my eyes. “Please, Owen. Don’t do this to me.
Please!
”

He looks at me with genuine sadness. “I am truly sorry. I won’t draw this out any longer.” He physically drags me to the edge and pushes me before I can prepare for it.

I fall into the coffin, screaming as my body hits the inside of it painfully. Lightly padded or not, it’s not meant to cushion a fall like the one I’d just taken. The breath is knocked from my lungs, and I lie there, struggling to draw in precious oxygen.
I can’t breathe!

Owen drops down into the grave before I can try to sit up, and he flattens a hand on my chest as he pins me down. He then braces his feet on the sides of the dirt above the coffin, reaching for the lid. He looks down at me, the hood causing his face to look dark as the fabric prevents the lantern light from above from touching his face. “I really liked you, too. Goodbye, Krista.” With a grunt, he slams the lid down after quickly removing his hand.

I’m encased in darkness just as my lungs begin to function again. I let loose a terrified scream and slam my hands against the wooden surface above me. The lid shakes, but it won’t open. It creaks above me, and I realize that Owen is sitting or standing on it.

“Owen!! Let me out!” I beg at the top of my lungs as I pummel the lid with my bound hands.

I hear something, and I fall silent as I try to decipher the sound. Then I realize Owen is pounding a nail into the edge of the coffin. My head jerks towards the sound, and then another one comes. He’s securing the edges of the coffin with nails.

“Owen!”

“Relax,” he soothes from above me, his voice muffled. “I’m just securing it the best way I can so that the bugs in the ground can’t get to you. I want you to remain as you are, attractive and untouched. You do realize the more you scream, the more oxygen you’re using up, don’t you?”

“I’ll do anything, Owen!
Anything!
Please let me out!” I beg hysterically.

He ignores me, and the sound of nails being pounded into the wood echoes around me in the darkness. With each nail I hear, I know it’s bringing me closer to death. Owen’s right, I’m going to run out of oxygen soon.

I bring my knees up and slam them into the lid, trying to fight my way out of the coffin. My throat goes raw as I scream, and I scratch at the surface several inches above my face, feeling slivers digging into the tender pads on my fingers while my nails break painfully. There is no staying calm in this situation, and I fight hopelessly for my freedom and my life.

I can’t die in here! I can’t!

Eventually, my voice cracks and gives out, and I’m left in silence but for my erratic breathing. My entire body has gone clammy, and my heart is still racing so fast in my chest that I am having a hard time catching my breath. It’s then that I realize the pounding of the nails has stopped, and now I can hear the muffled thud of dirt being shoveled on top of the coffin.

All the fight leaves me, and I go limp as tears stream down my temples. I’m going to die. This is torture waiting to be suffocated, and the claustrophobia has my heart beating triple time.

The rhythmic sound of the dirt being tossed on the lid stops.

He can’t possibly be done yet.

I listen intently, my ears straining.

Wait—is that shouting?

Then I let out a frightened gasp as something heavy drops down onto the lid above me. “Krista!”

I go completely still when I hear the muffled sound of Cord’s voice. Am I hallucinating now? Am I so desperate to be saved from death that I am envisioning a rescue?

The lid above me shakes and something slams into it again. “Krista!”

Oh my God! This could be
real!
What if Dane realized Owen might be behind everything and he and Cord had somehow tracked us down?

“Cord!” I shout as loud as I can, except my voice has gone hoarse from all my screaming earlier.

“I’ll get you out! Just hang in there and stay calm. Don’t use up more air than what’s necessary.”

I slam my fists into the wood above me. “Hurry!” I call desperately, then I fall silent so I can listen to what he’s doing. He’s prying out the nails one by one.

It’s taking too long, and I bang my fists into the wood. I know it’s not going to help him any, but I can’t just lie here and be calm. I’m so close to safety. So close…

“I’m coming, baby. Hold on,” Cord calls calmly from above me.

How he can remain so calm is beyond me. For someone who can barely hold onto his temper, he’s taking this situation much better than I would have ever thought he could. Maybe he’s containing it to keep me calm so I won’t waste more of my oxygen.

Wood cracks, and I feel a hint of fresh air breeze into the confines of the coffin, and I breathe it in greedily. It’s still dark though, and the lid is still in place. There’s another crack, and more fresh air brushes across my cheeks. I tilt my head back and see a hint of light in the corner, and it looks like the lid has been opened about an inch.

Cord curses. “Fucking nails. I have to close it again and remove more of them. I can’t get it open more than an inch at this point.”

“Please hurry,” I beg, my voice cracking.

“I’m right here,” he assures. “I’m not going anywhere. You’ll be out in a second.”

I hear the sound of more nails being removed. The wood creaks and cracks, then fresh air stirs my hair and face as the lid is opened. I see Cord braced along the sides of the dirt walls of the grave, his arm holding up the lid as he peers down at me. “Climb out,” he orders.

I sit up with relief, dragging in a deep lungful of wet, chilly night air as I lift my bound wrists. “I’m tied.”

Cord swears again, his jaw clenched with the effort of holding the lid that clearly doesn’t want to stay open. “Lie back down.”

“No!” I panic and struggle to ease up to my knees, anxious to be in his arms so that he can help me climb out of this hellish grave.

Cord is holding the lid, his other hand braced on the dirt side of the grave, so he is unable to touch me or comfort me. “Listen to me, I can’t help you climb up with your hands bound. I have to shut the lid again so I can go get Dane’s pocket knife.” His gaze burns into mine in the light from the lantern above us. “Krista, I’ve got you. I promise. I didn’t come out here to let you rot in this grave.”

I stare up at him and swallow down further protests. “Okay,” I whisper unhappily.

“Lie down. It’s just a little longer, and there’s plenty of air in there now. This is almost over with,” he soothes.

Very reluctantly, I slowly inch back down into the coffin, tears streaming down my temples as I lie on my back, my eyes focused on his.

Pain flashes across his features, and I can tell it’s hurting him to leave me here like this. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear. I’m so sorry, baby.” With that said, he gently closes the lid, and I’m once again cloaked in blackness.

Even though I know I’m close to freedom, I still can’t help but begin to cry as tears slide down into my hair. This is all just too much, and I am unable to calm down even though I know he’s coming back for me. I hear his foot on the lid of the grave, then nothing.

I wait.

And wait.

My heart thunders in my chest, and my lips clamp together tightly as I fight the urge to scream for him to hurry.

I hear movement on top of the lid, and a second later it’s lifted open. Cord manages to balance along the opening. “Sit up,” he urges.

He doesn’t have to tell me twice. The second my upper body lifts from the confines of the coffin, I feel myself beginning to calm down. I’m almost out of this thing.

Cord does some maneuvering, and then he manages to get a foot inside the coffin to brace himself. He uses his body to prop open the lid, then he hovers over me with the knife. “Let me see your wrists.”

I hold them out to him.

“Hold still,” he warns. Then he eases the blade between the rope and my skin, carefully cutting away the rope. When my hands are free, he shoves the knife into them. “Do your ankles,” he says as he braces the lid better so that it doesn’t fall closed on me.

Since my hands are shaking so badly, I nick my ankle, but I barely feel the pain. When I’m free, I hand the knife back to him, and he quickly pockets it.

“Let’s get you out of here. Stand up, I’m going to try to boost you up to the top,” he explains.

I quickly rise to my feet, then almost tumble in the spikey heels that I’d forgotten I’m wearing. Owen’s taste in fashion really sucks. I curse, and Cord tries to steady me without letting go of the lid. I motion I’m fine and bend down to quickly unbuckle them and kick them off. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Cord shifts closer, walking inside the coffin as he keeps the lid propped up with his body. Then he sets his hands on my waist and boosts me upwards as high as he can against the dirt side of the deep grave. “You’re gonna have to climb,” he says through gritted teeth.

I dig my feet into the dirt and feel it crumbling beneath my toes as I use my hands to try to pull myself up. In the movies, climbing out of a grave looks easy, but it’s not. I can’t seem to get a good grip on anything.

“Try harder, Krista. I know you’re tired, but we have to get back to Dane,” Cord urges.

I reach higher, trying to claw my fingers into the earth, and somehow, I manage to climb a little higher until my hand reaches the edge. I keep digging my toes into the earth as I pull myself up and out of the grave. I literally crawl on hands and knees until I am clear from the edge before turning back around to wait for Cord.

I can hear him cursing, then I see his hands first, then his head pops up, and he pulls himself up and out of the grave. He quickly drops down beside me, drawing me into his arms. I hug him back tightly, my heart still thrumming in my chest. I was so close to death. So close…

Cord eases back, then he gently tugs me to my bare feet. “Come on.”

For the first time since the lid of the coffin opened, I realize it’s still sprinkling. I look around as I struggle to my feet, and I see that Dane is standing about twenty feet away with a gun pointed at Owen.

He’s on his knees in front of Dane, his hands bound, his head bowed with defeat.

Cord wraps an arm protectively around me. “As soon as Dane realized it was likely Owen, he knew he’d take you somewhere secluded. When we saw Owen’s vehicle parked outside the cabin, he called the police before we took off into the woods. They should be here shortly.”

I stare at Owen, who is silent in the rain, his shoulders hunched against it. “Where are we?” I ask Cord in a hollow voice.

“There’s a cabin nearby that Owen and Dane rent from time to time.”

I turn and look at Cord. “He killed Emmaline because he saw her and Dane having sex at the store. He’s obsessed with Dane, and he thought Dane wanted me too, so he wanted me out of the way.”

Cord’s eyes slide to Owen, and the look in his eye tells me he’s just barely holding himself back from physically going after him. “We had no idea he was unstable,” he says grimly. Then his eyes turn to roam over me. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“I don’t think so.”

He picks up my hands, and I look down to see that they are covered in blood and dirt. There’s slivers sticking out of my fingertips, and all my nails have been torn.

I feel ill as I stare at my damaged hands. “They don’t hurt. I can barely feel them.”

“It’s the adrenaline. I’m sure the police will have medics with them.” He pulls me close, holding me tightly. “It’s over, Krista.”

I nod, pressing my cheek against his jacket-covered chest. Emmaline can now rest in peace, and Dane and Cord can now live their lives without the haunting accusations of a crime they never committed.

Cord opens the warehouse door, then he disappears into the darkness to turn on the lights. From where I stand just outside the door’s threshold, I hear the distinct echoing sound of the warehouse lights coming on one row at a time. Once I’m certain all the lights have come on, I step forward so that Cord can reach behind me and shut the door.

Cord glances at me, his eyes alert as he searches my gaze. “You sure you want to help with the setup this year?”

It’s been almost a year since Owen tried to bury me alive in that coffin. It’s been a rough one, but I’ve managed to work my way through it. I now have an extreme phobia of the dark and small, enclosed spaces. These phobias will probably stay with me for life, but hey, I’m alive, so I guess I can’t complain.

I look at Cord, who is waiting for my reply, and I give him a determined look. “It’s the first step to finding a way to embrace Halloween again.”

It’s a fear that I need to start facing, because Cord is in my life to stay, and every part of who he is happens to be connected to Halloween. It’s his hobby, his joy, his future, his source of income. Cordane’s is always going to be a part of his life, and I’ve been dreading this month, but now it’s time to deal with it and find a way to be comfortable with it again.

“I don’t want to rush you,” Cord says.

He’s been great this past year and very supportive as I’d dealt with the aftermath of what Owen had put me through. I’d had no idea when I moved here to Ambler Ridge that Cord would be waiting for me. I am thankful for him, even though I’d almost lost my life because of our relationship.

I love him and, at some point, we both plan on moving in together. Right now, we’re both going to college in Manchester, and I’m still staying with my mom and Mitch. As I overcome what had happened, it is best for me to be with family.

Cord is still living with his brother and trying to be there for Dane as he mourns his relationship with Owen. Dane took it extremely hard when Owen was sentenced to prison, and I don’t think he’d realized how much he’d loved Owen until he’d lost him.

We’re all dealing with what happened in our own way, but eventually, we’ll be able to move on from it and build a new life. Dane, Cord, and I now have a strong bond thanks to Owen, and we are much closer than I ever thought we could be. Dane has become like a brother to me, and I finally feel like I belong. I might live with my mom and Mitch, but my heart and future lies with the Bodine brothers.

“You’re not rushing me,” I assure Cord as I gaze up at him. “I’m the one who insisted I could continue working in October,” I remind.

He nods, his green eyes focused intently on me as he offers me his hand.

I take it, and we step forward and begin walking through the warehouse. A sense of déjà vu sweeps over me. I haven’t been here since last year. After Owen almost succeeded in killing me, I’d quit Cordane’s for four months until I’d felt that I could handle it. Since then, whenever Cord or Dane need to come out here, I’ve declined in hopes of avoiding all the Halloween props. In my mind, I’ve connected Owen to Halloween, and it’s hard to separate the two.

Cord draws me to a stop, his eyes searching mine. “What are you thinking?”

I look at him and give him a genuine smile. “
We
started here.”

An answering smile forms on his lips. “That we did.” His eyes turn playfully wicked. “Wanna take a walk down memory lane?”

“Maybe,” I say softly, my eyes serious instead of playful.

Cord had once taught me that fun could be had with the props in the warehouse. They all don’t necessarily have to be scary. Maybe I should let him do what he does best—show his love for Halloween by showing me that I have nothing to fear from it.

His eyes widen when he realizes I’m actually interested in his offer. Then his hand squeezes mine, and he starts tugging me towards the far side of the warehouse that is the furthest away from the aisles stocked with props and products.

“What are we doing?” I ask curiously as I realize we’re headed towards the back office.

“Shutting down the surveillance,” he says immediately.

My eyebrows lift. “I said we could take a walk down memory lane, not have sex,” I muse.

His eyes shift to mine as we reach the office door, and he pulls out a set of keys. “You keep thinking that, and I’ll keep hoping otherwise.” The door opens and he turns on the lights, ushering me inside.

The nerves that had taken up residence in my belly earlier have faded as I begin to relax. “The idea of having sex in this place really turns you on, doesn’t it?”

He grins and sits down in front of the computer. “You know it.”

I lean a hip against the edge of the desk. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that here, but I’ll play under one condition.”

Cord’s eyes meet mine, and they burn with curiosity. “What’s that?”

“This time, you’re at
my
mercy.” I think I can handle a little fun as long as I am the one in control.

He grins. “I’ll be at your mercy any day. I’m yours anyway. All of me.”

A thrill rises within me. Being in love isn’t as scary as I had thought it would be. “I know,” I say softly.

His eyes hold mine a minute longer, and then he turns back to the computer, his fingers moving across the keyboard. He presses one final button and then rises to his feet, his eyes expectant. “Lead the way.”

I take his hand and lead him out of the office and back into the warehouse. When we reach the first aisle full of props, I turn and bring him to a complete stop. I look up at him, my eyes sincere. “I don’t need props. I
see
you,” I say gently.

Emotion flickers in his gaze. “I see you, too.”

My lips curve into a smile. “But, I’m beginning to like your kinkier side too, so today, props are welcome.”

His eyes burn into mine. “You’re all I need, you know that, right?”

“I know. Now, let’s go make some new memories. It’s October, I need to fill these days up with good ones to replace the bad.”

This earns me a lascivious smile from Cord. “I’ve got plenty of ideas to help you out with that issue.”

“I’m sure you do,” I laugh as I tug on his hand and pull him down the aisle with me.

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