CHAPTER 33
Justice awoke on the floor of the rough-hewn
space he’d rented, lying on his back, his head supported by Cosmo’s
jacket. The ceiling boards let in light through the cracks, which
striped his body; the window offered a warm square of June sunshine
from outside.
Still, he was cold. It was the
shivering that had awakened him. He’d eaten the last of Cosmo’s
jerky and energy bars and wondered without much interest where he
was going to find his next meal. He wasn’t hungry now. Wouldn’t be
for some time. All he needed was fuel to keep going, and he was
sure he could find it when he needed it without raising
suspicions.
Transportation was the big issue. He’d
ditched the Nissan compact, and he’d switched to Zellman’s Range
Rover . . . And then he’d lost that car somehow.
Justice blinked, his mind twisting
corridors that he could run down but in which he could find no end.
He couldn’t remember why he’d lost the car. There was nothing
there. No answer.
Then bang.
Memory returned in a flash.
Lorelei. The devil’s mistress. He’d
found her, but she’d escaped!
Justice sat up straight, his head
rushing from the effort. Something wrong, he
thought. It felt like pieces were loose and floating around inside
his skull.
Lorelei . . . ,
he called to her.
Lorelei . . . I’m
coming for you. . . .
But there was no answer.
Laura’s cell phone vibrated in her
pocket. She hadn’t been able to pick up the call she’d received
earlier; she’d been too busy. But now she snatched the phone from
her pocket, saw that it was Harrison calling, and punched the ON
button. “Hello? Harrison?”
“Hey, there,” he said. “When are you
off for dinner?”
“Now, if I want to be. We had three
accident victims here earlier, but they’ve been taken care of or
moved to another hospital.”
“Kid named Matt Ellison?”
“Oh, God. Are you writing up a
story?”
“No. I ran into someone, a classmate of
this Matt’s. I’ll tell you all about it when I get
there.”
“You’re coming here?”
“We’re going to the sheriff,” he
reminded. “Didn’t they call you?”
“Yeah . . . I know. How romantic,” she
quipped, though she wasn’t really in the mood for jokes. She
thought about the upcoming interrogation and the word inquisition slid through her mind. All her secrets would
be exposed. Of course, she would tell the police everything; more
than anything she wanted Justice behind bars forever, but still . .
. sharing all her knowledge of the man, of her upbringing at the
Colony, of her sisters . . . She shuddered. She’d told the officers
everything that had happened last night, when she was interviewed,
but the questions hadn’t probed too deep into her personal life.
Today, she knew, she wouldn’t be so lucky.
“It’s gonna be all right,” Harrison
said.
“Of course it won’t be, but I’ll be
looking for you.”
“Twenty minutes,” was his
response.
She had just enough time to check her
reflection in the mirror, add a little blush and lipstick, and
wrinkle her nose at the pale color of her cheeks. A greenish tinge
showed underneath her skin, she thought, annoyed. Pregnancy?
Probably.
Lorelei . .
.
She blocked her mind, fighting a
shiver. Justice had been calling her for the past half hour, but
she was bound and determined not to answer. If Harrison were here .
. . if she were with him . . . she might consider taking the
“call.” But alone. No way. The twisted fury on his crazed face
hadn’t left her inner vision, and her quick shiver turned into a
violent shudder at the memory.
It was climbing toward 5:00 p.m. when
she walked out of the hospital, her purse strap slung over one
shoulder. Harrison’s Chevrolet came down the drive, its engine
definitely louder than she’d noticed before.
She opened her mouth to say something
as she climbed in the passenger door, but he beat her to
it.
“The damn thing could just quit on me,”
he said with a certain amount of regret. “If I have to get rid of
this car, it’ll hurt.”
“How long have you had
it?”
“Me? Ten years. Before that, I’m not
sure how many lucky owners there were.”
She was silent for a while as they
headed south toward the Tillamook County Sheriff’s Department. Then
Laura observed, “Sometimes I think you’re living in a different
time.”
He squinted a look at her. “Wow. Spoken
from a woman whose family wears long dresses and their hair in
buns.”
“Have you met any of my
family?”
“Not formally. So, how am I from
another time?”
“The old car. The longer hair . . . I
don’t know. I guess you do have a cell phone,” she added with a
shrug.
“Yeah, well, I have issues giving out
my cell number. Hate being called by anybody at anytime and being
expected to pick up.”
“Isn’t that almost a job requirement in
your field?”
“Well . . . yes. Your
point?”
She smiled. Good Lord, she was starting
to like him. No, it was more than that. Far more than simple
affection and it was definitely a problem.
“There’s been a strange turn to the
Turnbull investigation,” he said, and Laura was brought back to the
present with a bang.
“What?”
“I think Justice has been driving Dr.
Zellman’s son’s car. That’s the one that was on your access road.
The black Range Rover.”
“What?”
Harrison proceeded to tell her about
his meeting with the Zellmans and the conclusions he’d come to
regarding Justice. He finished with, “I told Brandt to let the
authorities know about his car. Maybe Justice still has the first
car. If not, how’s he getting around now? Maybe he meant to use
Brandt’s car longer and something happened, or maybe
not.”
“He chased me into the ditch,” Laura
said. “If he got back in his car, I would have seen it leave and
probably known it was him. And then you came right after
that.”
“It was probably safer for him to
abandon the car and walk away.”
“I hope he didn’t stop a hitchhiker or
grab another woman and take her car.”
Harrison made a face. “He’s got to have
some form of transportation. I guess we’ll just have to wait and
see.” After a moment of them each being in their own thoughts, he
went on. “You know how you said you thought he was sick? Physically
sick, maybe? Well, Zellman said he’s been off his meds for long
enough to have some effect. Like his psychosis would get
worse.”
“He’s unraveling,” Laura said suddenly,
feeling the scratch down her back again, as if he’d physically
marked her.
“Worse than he already was. Hard to
believe.” He shook his head. “Zellman said something else, too.
Sort of weird. He said that Justice revealed once that he could
find the Colony women easier when they were pregnant. That he could
smell them. Do you believe that?”
Laura’s heart leapt in her chest. Her
blood pulsed in her head. “What?” she whispered.
“That his victims are easier for him to
locate when they’re pregnant . . . or at least in his twisted mind
that’s what he thinks. Who knows?”
She swallowed hard. Did Harrison know?
Suspect? She grabbed the armrest, her fingers blanching
white.
“I told Zellman about you,” Harrison
was saying against the roar that had started in Laura’s ears.
“Didn’t name names. Just said that there was one of the Colony
living outside the gates who Justice was targeting, and just being
outside is why you’re a target. Not because of
pregnancy.”
She wanted to die inside. Did he know
about her throwing up just this morning? Oh, Lord, what a
mess.
“Dumbest thing I ever heard,” Harrison
went on, “and it doesn’t bode well for the doc that he seems to
give comments like that some credence. What do you
think?”
“I . . . really . . . don’t know. . .
.” Laura could barely swallow. Nervous sweat was collecting in her
palms.
“You all right?” He glanced her way,
his gaze searching.
With an effort, she managed to fight
back her panic and lie all too easily. “Uh . . . yeah . . .”
I’ll never be all right. Oh, God, Harrison, if you
only knew. I’m pregnant. Justice knows! He senses! Tears of
fear for her unborn child and for a love unrequited burned behind
her eyes. With that thought she froze. Love? You’re
“in love” with Harrison? No damned way. But she couldn’t
find her voice.
“It’s going to be fine. Really.” But he
appeared concerned, and she had to fight to appear normal, hoping
color would return to a face she was sure had been leeched of all
blood. “Okay. We’re here,” he said, glancing ahead to the county
offices in the center of the city of Tillamook. He wheeled into a
back parking lot full of potholes, slowing down and moving the
vehicle gingerly around huge craters filled with water. “Our tax
dollars hard at work,” he muttered.
Laura dreaded this meeting more than
she could say. She didn’t want the sheriff’s department involved.
She didn’t want to talk to officers with blank faces who were
trying to appear to listen when she knew they would consider her a
crackpot of the first order as soon as they heard the way she
communicated with Justice.
Still, he had chased her last night.
Had touched her. Nearly caught her.
They entered through the back door and
up a few stairs. To the left was a hallway that led behind the
counter, which blocked access to the main body of the building.
Harrison and Laura walked along the counter, which ran the length
of the room, toward the front door. On the opposite side, an
officer sat at a reception desk. Her name tag said JOHNSON, and though she clearly was the gateway to the
inner sanctum, her expression was anything but
welcoming.
“May I help you?” she asked, the dark
eyes settling on Harrison full of unspoken questions.
“We’d like to speak to the sheriff
about the Justice Turnbull case,” he said.
“Sheriff O’Halloran has left for the
day,” was the terse response.
“Is there someone else?” Harrison
asked.
She hesitated. “What’s your
name?”
“Harrison Frost.”
Johnson reacted with a nod. “Ah, the
reporter. Mr. Frost, when the sheriff has something to reveal about
the case, he’ll announce it.”
“We have an appointment.” Harrison met
her gaze firmly.
“With Detective Stone,” Laura
interjected. “I heard he’s handling the case.”
“The sheriff is a very busy man,” the
receptionist said. Her face became a glower, but outmaneuvered, she
picked up the phone and pressed a button. When it was answered on
the other end, she said, “Harrison Frost, the reporter, is here
with information about the Turnbull investigation,” in a tone that
suggested she didn’t really believe he knew anything of
worth.
She listened, then said curtly,
gesturing back the way they’d come, “You may go around the counter
and down the hall. Apparently Detective Stone is expecting
you.”
“Thanks,” Harrison said.
Under her breath Johnson muttered,
“Last to know again.”
Harrison cupped Laura’s elbow, and she
felt a moment of electricity, a kind of awareness that she rarely,
if ever, felt.
They had just turned the corner at the
end of the counter and were heading down the hall to the rooms
beyond when a man in cowboy boots, jeans, and a shirt with the
sleeves rolled up came their way. He had dark hair and blue eyes
that seemed to see a lot more than they gave away.
“Detective Stone,” he introduced
himself. “Mr. Frost?” He shook Harrison’s hand, and the two men
sized each other up; then he glanced to Laura and nearly did a
double take.
“Laura Adderley,” she introduced
herself, sticking out her hand as well.
The detective seemed to think that over
as they shook hands. “Come on down to my office.”
They followed after him and learned his
office was a large squad room with a number of desks arranged front
to front in twos. An attractive woman officer with auburn hair and
blue eyes acknowledged them with a quick smile as she brought
another two chairs to Stone’s desk. Laura and Harrison sat down as
the officer seated herself at the desk that butted up to
Stone’s.
“Detective Dunbar.” Stone indicated the
female officer, who gave them an interested look. “This is Harrison
Frost and Laura Adderley. Frost is a reporter with the Seaside Breeze and Ms. Adderley is—”
“A nurse at Ocean Park Hospital,” Laura
finished for him.
Stone swung around to face Laura
directly. “You remind me of someone, Ms. Adderley.”
Her mouth formed the word who but she didn’t utter it. She almost already
knew.
“Do you know the group of women who
live in the lodge called Siren Song up the road? People around here
refer to them as the Colony,” said Stone.
Harrison’s brows lifted. “Where are you
going with this?”
Laura said, “He thinks I look like
them.”
Stone gave them a small smile of
acknowledgment. “You do. Your hair’s darker, but there’s a
similarity. I’ve met their gatekeeper, Catherine. And I’ve seen
pictures of some of the younger women.”
“Pictures,” Harrison said.
“How?”
“Justice’s first victims. And others .
. .” He frowned, as if deciding how much to tell, how far to
go.
“My hair’s dyed,” Laura admitted in a
soft voice. “You’ve met Catherine?”
“A time or two,” he said. “She’s never
let me in, though. Me being a guy and all. It’s a . . . developing
relationship,” he added dryly. “So, tell me. What have you got for
me on Turnbull?”
“I think Justice stole one of Dr.
Zellman’s cars from his house—his son’s car, a Range Rover—and he
left it outside Laura’s last night,” Harrison said.
Stone’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and
Laura said, “I know you have reports of what happened at my house.
We spoke with the officers last night. What I didn’t tell them was
that I’m sure Justice Turnbull tried to kill me last night.” Stone
opened his mouth to comment, but Laura soldiered on quickly. “He
came to my house and he stole one of my knives. Then waited for me.
Once I returned home and was inside, he broke down the door and
came after me. I escaped. Barely. I called Mr. Frost for help, and
then I ran.”
“He chased you?” Stone asked. “After he
broke into the house?”
“Yes. He chased me outside and I ran to
the road and there’s a drop-off at the edge of the yard and I kind
of tumbled over. That’s where Harrison found me.”
Stone seemed to pick up on the way she
said Harrison’s first name, as he gave him a look. It irked Laura a
little.
“Detective Stone,” she said tautly.
“He’ll come back for me. Justice will come back for
me.”
“Why?”
Stone sounded like he really wanted to
know, but it was a question Laura couldn’t answer. “It’s just what
he does,” she said simply.