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30 : DEATHSCAPE
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2023-03-15 02:41:50Related chapters
Dangerous Attraction 2 : Love and Suspense 31
the empty road, and the barren, snow-covered fields that lined it on either side. She blinked hard a couple of times, then stepped back inside, suddenly cut off at the knees. No feeling in the universe compared to that of a mother watching her child being taken away.She turned the old-fashioned brass key in the lock. She used to love its warm patina, the way it perfectly complemented the deep color of the hundred-year-old oak door. Braided wool rugs covered most of the wide-paneled floor that matched the door. The narrow stained-glass window above the door painted the walls with color and light in the foyer.When they’d first moved in, she’d spent hours walking around the house, drinking in the colors and textures, the play of light and shadow, absorbing the visual feast through her skin. Maddie and she had giddily sketched every interesting nook, their way of taking possession of their new home.For a moment, she could clearly remember that deep sense of contentment, the pure joy. T
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Ashley picked up the brush again and lifted it to the canvas, except now the colors seemed all wrong. The light had changed too. She looked through the row of oversized windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, taking up the whole north end of the loft. Moody snow clouds had drifted in, casting a fatigued gray tint on everything.Her hand jerked, leaving an angry slash in the middle of the canvas. A headache drummed to life in the back of her skull.It’s not going to happen today.She ignored the shiver that skipped down her spine.This is a normal day. I’m painting a normal composition.But it was too late. It was happening already. She squeezed her eyes shut against the images flooding her brain, but no resistance would help now. She couldn’t escape.This time, the body—a man, midthirties—lay in a shallow grave surrounded by low brush. A distinct rock loomed nearby, blocking the view of a creek beyond.The image stirred faint memories that refused to come into focus. Her headach
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Jack Sullivan stared at the bright light at the end of the tunnel. He looked straight into the damn light, walked toward it, and was so glad to be rid of the pain, he couldn’t have cared less that he was dying.Time stood like seawater trapped in a tidal pool, disconnected and unmoving.But after a while, he realized he wasn’t alone in the void.Shannon?No, not his sister. But someone definitely there. And the fact that he wasn’t alone brought him some peace.Until he was yanked back—by the cold and the pain and his unfinished business—and realized that he wasn’t dead yet after all, but close to it. He couldn’t lift his hands. He tried to blink and got an eyeful of dirt.Something heavy sat on his chest, on his whole body. Seconds passed before he understood that he’d been packed into some cold, tight space—then another second before he realized he was buried.If there’d been anything in his clenched stomach, he might have thrown up and choked himself to death. As it was, he only hea
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A naked, possibly dead man lay in her foyer. Now what?Ashley peeked from the kitchen, shivering against the cold that poured in the open front door. When she’d rushed off to save him, she hadn’t thought this far ahead, what she would do once she found him. She hadn’t thought he would attack her.Maybe she hadn’t been supposed to save him. Maybe he was the same kind of man as whoever had put him into that shallow grave, one criminal taking out another, eliminating competition.She held on to the broom she’d grabbed as the first possible weapon she could think of and inched toward him. When she reached close enough, she poked him in the side. He didn’t move.Whoever he was, he was well built, had seen either plenty of physical labor or regular exercise. He had a well-proportioned body she might have been tempted to paint another time and place, under different circumstances. He hardly looked ready to be painted just now.His face was swollen and bloody, like the rest of him. An arrange
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Jack Sullivan saw the bright light again. This time, he wasn’t about to march blindly ahead. Screw the light. With superhuman effort, he willed himself awake. His eyelids going up felt as if someone was dragging sandpaper over his eyeballs. It hurt to breathe.“Welcome back, Jack.” Bing’s face swam into focus.“Captain.” He cleared his throat, then tried for something better than the weak whisper. “What happened?”“Do you know how much paperwork I have to fill out every time one of my men gets injured?”He blinked at the hospital room around him—white walls, green sheets, strange-looking medical equipment—and wrinkled his nose at the smell of iodine. “I’ll try not to make a habit of it. I’m fine.”“You might think differently when the painkillers wear off,” the man said ina voice that leaned toward gentle. Not something Jack had heard from Bing before. He had to be dying.He tried to sit up. Couldn’t. What the hell? “Take it easy, son.”Nobody had called him son in at least a decade.
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Mrs. Smutzky. Couple of cars I didn’t recognize. I was paying attention to the people I was ticketing.” He rubbed his hand over his knee. “We canvassed the area as soon as you were found. Nobody reported seeing any strange cars pulled over in the hours before you were discovered.”Jack nodded while he gritted his teeth against the new wave of pain that washed over his body. Whatever drugs they’d given him were wearing off. Good. He wanted to be able to think clearly. He wanted to remember.“Is someone watching the Price woman?”“Forget her,” Bing snapped. “She had nothing to do with this.” I’ll be the judge of that.He had a lead after all these years, a living, breathing, tangible link to Blackwell. He held on to that thought with everything he had. She might have fooled Bing, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to fool him.“Let it go. That’s an order.”He looked his captain in the eyes, preparing for a shit storm as he said, “Shannon Sullivan, the third victim, was my sister.”A long
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That Jack Sullivan still lived filled him with fury. He’d been careless. He wouldn’t be careless with the detective again.His art was more important than a handful of lives. Art at the level where he practiced it had to be protected.He was living his dream at last, living to his full potential, and nobody was going to take that away from him. He’d always wanted to be an artist.His father hadn’t approved, had refused to pay for art school. And the art school hadn’t given him a scholarship, unable to understand his art. He’d accepted then that they couldn’t have taught him anything anyway.In hindsight, the rejection had been lucky. Anyone could be trained to a fair level of competence in anything, but creative genius was born. Structured instruction would have imposed restrictions on his vision.The old fan chugged on in its valiant effort to distribute the heat from the antique woodstove in the corner. He didn’t really feel the cold. Creating always filled him with fire.He manipul
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He called every couple of months, trying to talk her into a show. But her agent, Isabelle, wasn’t crazy about the man. Neither was Ashley, truthfully. He was smarmy, for one. And the few times she’d met him in person, she’d gotten the impression that while he made a living off artists, he looked down on them.“I truly appreciate the offer. I’m working on a series, actually. But all my scheduling goes through my agent.”“Ah, yes, the lovely Isabelle.” The words were still complimentary, but the tone had chilled a few degrees. “I’ll be sure to get in touch with her as well. Would you mind if I just stopped by and looked at your new series in the meanwhile? We’re practically neighbors.”The work wasn’t ready. She didn’t like strangers in her house. Living in the same town didn’t make them neighbors. Yet she understood that since Broslin had three times as many galleries as the average small town, competition was rough. Although, her kind of art wasn’t exactly what appealed to tourists wh
Last Updated : 2023-03-17
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He went with them to the hospital. They were all checked over for cuts and bruises as well as hypothermia. The doctor kept Maddie overnight for observation. Even though she hadn’t been in the water, she was a slight little thing and chilled through pretty fast. Since she was sleeping peacefully, the nurse sent Ashley home for a hot shower and rest. Jack got them a cab and went with her.And stayed with her.“Why don’t you grab a couple of hours of sleep?” he asked once she came out of the bathroom, wearing her thickest sweater and pants.She wrapped her arms around herself. She didn’t think she would ever get warm again. “I should go in and wait for Maddie.”“The nurse said she won’t be released until after the doctors make their rounds at eight in the morning.” He’d been up in the loft, looking out into the night.She looked past him, out through the windows. The emergency vehicles had left, darkness blanketing the reservoir again. He didn’t ask if he could stay, but she would have s
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Her feet were frozen, her bedroom slippers little protection against the snow. Ashley wrapped her arms around her daughter as best she could, trying to keep Maddie warm. Her own body shook, and not only because of the cold. Dark panic gripped her as she shuffled forward on the ice.For the past year, she had barely been able to look at the reservoir. And now here she was, the place where Dylan had died, where she’d lost her life, then gained it back, thanks to the paramedics. Where she had nearly lost Maddie.So much grief and guilt was tied up in this expanse of rough ice. She couldn’t think here. All the fear of the past was getting mixed up with the panic of the present.She forced her brain to focus. “Why are you doing this, Graham?”The man shoved her toward a dark hole hacked into the ice. Another kind of grave. She recognized her axe next to it, the handle painted pink. He must have taken it from her garage. Next to the axe, a large cement brick waited with a ropetied to it. H
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Bobby Adamo didn’t give up the information easily, keeping to his story that he didn’t know anything he’d handed over was stolen, that he hadn’t been present at the burglaries.Jack had to turn the conversation serious. Principal Adamo had threatened charges, called his lawyer, called Bing.Bing threatened back with a charge of obstruction of justice.And then Bobby miraculously remembered the exact address in a split second. Jack called it in.The old Broslin Bank on Main Street had stood empty for years. It was the most stately building in town, all brick and fancy masonry, recalling another era. The bank had shut down during the financial crises and now sat with its windows boarded. Still, it was an imposing presence, between one of the town’s two dozen galleries on one side and the post office on the other.According to Bobby, they’d gone in through the back, just in case there was some leftover money in the safe, but had found nothing but garbage. They had taken the fan as a souv
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Everybody was at the police station. Since the FBI still had most of their things set up there, they were bringing Blackwell to Broslin, and nobody wanted to miss that. Even Leila came in, and Harper too, his arm in a sling. At first Jack had thought they’d come to see the monster. But as they clapped him on the back, one by one, Leila actually getting close enough for a hug, he realized they were here to support him.“There. It’s over now,” Bing said gruffly. “They have him.”Jack stood by the front desk, one eye always on the front door as he tried to figure out how the hell this happened. Apparently, he had friends.He’d come to Broslin for Blackwell, and Blackwell alone. He didn’t socialize; he didn’t hang out; he didn’t do the buddy thing. In his spare time, he either drove around town, trying to figure out where Blackwell might live, or sat at home going through the case files.The FBI bursting through the door with their suspect in cuffs refocused him.Right age, right body typ
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The sound and sight of a dozen little girls tearing through the house, screaming at the top of their lungs, left Jack immobilized for a second as he stepped inside behind Ashley’s father. If there was a place on earth he didn’t belong, this was it. He would stay anyway. He put his gift on the pile that took up most of the window seat.William Price moved away to help one of Maddie’s friends lift a box of dolls off a shelf.Ashley stood in the middle of the melee, directing it like a general. She’d taken her coat off. Her light wool dress hugged her curves, falling to her knees. The sight distracted him for a minute as hot lust shot through him. That never seemed to change, whether they were on good terms or bad.A woman in her thirties swept by him with a tray of sweets. “Hi, I’m Heather, Jenny’s mom. Cupcakes?”She probably assumed he was the father of one of the little terrors. He didn’t correct her. “Jack. Maybe later. Thanks.”Ashley moved on to the kitchen, and he went after her.
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He stood in the middle of his life’s work, an installation that filled the entire top floor of one of the nicest buildings in Broslin. His soundproofed workshop was down in the basement. The downstairs he left as it had been when he’d bought the abandoned building. If anyone somehow peeked in through a boarded-up window, let them see nothing.But the top floor, here he spent money. The space could have been part of a wing in the Louvre. Not that he ever wanted his art to be moved there. This was his hometown. His museum should be here, maybe with the town named after him eventually. Let the French come here if they wanted to see his work. He was proud to be an American.The canvases that hung on the walls had been painted in living blood. They’d been his first true creations, the very thing that eventually led him onto the right path.He’d been in North Carolina to pick up a car he’d bought online. He met a young woman at the hotel bar. She came back to his room with him.And then she
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“You’re so sweet,” Mrs. Kentner said, holding the small paintings at arm’s reach. “We really do appreciate your support.” She put the paintings on the living room table and lifted her purse from the floor, taking out a small box wrapped in sparkling paper. She handed it to Ashley. “For Maddie. Pete said she’s having her birthday party this weekend.”“Thank you. You really shouldn’t have.”“Well, the way things are going…” Mrs. Kentner gave a smile and a wink.Okay, so Pete told her mother about the date. Ashley felt a moment of embarrassment, then pushed it away.“I’m so glad he came back home,” the older woman said. “He deserves something good. The way he took care of me with the cancer…” Moisture glistened in the woman’s eyes.Ashley patted her hand. Pete did deserve something good, but was she it? A sudden wave of doubt rushed her. What was she doing with Pete? But then she thought, they were just going to look at the dam. They’d been friends for a long time. It didn’t have to be m
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Jack tried not to think of Ashley or their kiss as he walked back to the locker room at the east end of the high school the next day. The team was gathering for a morning huddle about an upcoming game. He wanted to get this over with before he headed off to Jersey. He called out the players he needed, gathering them in the hallway.“Is this about the bones?” Bobby Adamo asked, gripping a cup of coffee. “You guys took off. Nobody said we were supposed to wait around.”None of the four looked anything but cocky, feeling safe in numbers and on their home turf.Jack watched their eyes, looking for the weakest link. Probably Tyler Foster, the councilman’s son. He was the youngest, the one Jack had caught on Ashley’s land before. He’d scared the boy when he’d tackled him.“Actually, I’m here about a laptop you’re selling online.” Jack looked Bobby in the eye. “I wouldn’t mind seeing it.”The surprise on the teenager’s face was quickly masked. The others pulled closer to him.“I don’t know w
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“That I can promise.” She tilted her head. “So if Blackwell is in Jersey, why aryou here instead of being there?”“I’ll drive over tomorrow.”“Why not let the FBI handle it? You could let it go. You’re alive. You won.”He didn’t want to talk about it. And then he did anyway. He’d never cared before if anyone thought him an obsessed lunatic. He shouldn’t now. But he did.“I had a sister. Six years older than me. She raised me, pretty much. Breast cancer took our mother in her twenties.”A dull pain throbbed to life in the middle of his chest. Then came the flood of guilt. “Our father was working the graveyard shift. I was a teenage brat, wanted pizza. We lived too far outside of town. The only pizza shop didn’t deliver that far out. I begged her into it. I stayed home and played video games. She drove out for the pizza. She always tried to make up for the fact that I had to grow up without a mother. I was a spoiled little shit, pretty much.”“Jack—”“Anyway, she never came bace k. The
