Page 51
She’d be all right. Just needed to lie down for a moment. Just needed to close her eyes.
* * *
Sarah opened her eyes. She had no idea how long she’d been out. Judging by the sour taste in her mouth, it might have been hours. But she could see the moon out her window. The soft glow spilled into her room, creating strange silhouettes. She lay still for a moment as she tried to orient herself, but her head felt full of cobwebs.
Wait a minute, she thought as she glanced around. Why was it dark in her room? She hadn’t turned the light off before she lay down, had she?
And what was that strange scent? It smelled like. . . damp earth.
Her hands felt dry and crusty, and she lifted them in front of her, saw something dark all the way up to her elbows.
God, what was that?
Sarah swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat with her hands in front of her. She smelled like soil, as if she’d been out digging in the flower beds in the middle of the night. In the middle of winter.
Her brain still half-frozen, she stumbled to the bathroom and turned on the light. She was covered in dirt. It was all over her hands and arms, caked beneath her nails, matted on the knees of her jeans.
What the hell had she been trying to dig up?
Suddenly frantic to get it off, she turned on the water and started scrubbing. Then it hit her again about that light. She must have turned it off when she left the room because obviously she’d gone outside at some point.
Grabbing a towel, she went back into the bedroom and turned on the light to have a look around. She didn’t notice it at first. She wasn’t looking for anything like that.
And then everything inside her went completely still.
The little yellow bird from her grandmother was back in its glass case.
The little yellow bird she’d tucked in her sister’s dead fingers fourteen years ago.
Someone had been in her room while she slept. Someone had left that bird for her to find.
And then her gaze dropped to her hands. Traces of dirt were still stuck beneath her nails.
What the hell had she been trying to dig up?
Her heart beat so hard she could scarcely breathe as hysteria bubbled in her throat. In full panic, she scooped her purse off the floor, the gun from her desk and fled.
Chapter 29
Sarah hit the remote and the garage door crawled up inch by agonizing inch. She barely waited for the door to clear before reversing out of the garage, all the way to the end of the drive and into the street. Then she turned the car and floored the accelerator as the headlights cut a swath through the darkness.
Calm down. Get a grip before you wrap yourself around a light pole.
Breathe in. . . breathe out. In. . . out.
The bird she’d placed in her sister’s casket fourteen years ago was back in its glass case in her old bedroom.
Sarah shuddered.
Not possible.
It was a different bird. Had to be. She should have looked for the tiny crack in the wing. All she’d thought, though, when she saw it, was to get the hell out of there.
Someone had come into her room while she slept and put that bird on the nightstand to mess with her head. That was the only possible explanation.
But. . . she’d awakened with all that dirt on her. All over her arms, under her nails, on her jeans. As if she’d been on her knees digging. . .
No. No!
She didn’t want her mind to go there, but the images were already flashing through her head. And the smell. God, the smell of the graveyard was all over her. Not just the dirt, but the funereal-home scent of hothouse roses. The smell was in her nose, on her clothes. . .
In. . . out. In. . . out.
She practiced the exercise all the way to the cemetery, after she’d parked, as she took the flashlight out of the glove box.
In. . . out. In. . . out.
As she slipped through the gate and the metal clanged shut behind her. As she crept through the cemetery, avoiding headstones and graves.
In. . . out. In. . . out.
The DeLaune family plot was on the other side of a small hillock. As she crested the knoll, she could see the fresh mound of her father’s grave piled high with flowers. Her mother’s grave was nearest to Sarah, Rachel’s was on the far side.
In. . . out. In. . . out.
She kept breathing as she walked past her mother’s grave. Her father’s grave. Stood at the foot of her sister’s grave.
Staring at the disturbed ground.
A scream welled in Sarah’s throat as she angled the flashlight beam onto the grave. A hand was sticking out of the loose dirt. . .
Sarah’s heart slammed against her chest as she backed away from the grave. She tripped over something and went down with a hard thud.
Oh, God.
The notion that Rachel’s body had been desecrated sickened and horrified her. Who would do such a thing? And why?
To get your bird back.
Don’t even go there. Don’t. Don’t.
She angled the beam over the ground and saw that she’d tripped over a shovel. She kicked it out of the way, then eased back up to the edge of the grave and shone the light over the dirt. Over the hand.
She saw now that the body was lying faceup, covered by only a thin layer of dirt. Decomposition had already distorted the features, but Sarah knew who it was, more from instinct than recognition.
It was Catherine. Sean’s Catherine.
In the distance, a siren sounded. It didn’t register at first, but then as the sound grew louder, Sarah started to panic. What if the police were on their way here? If they saw the dirt still on her hands and clothes, the shovel lying nearby, they could easily conclude that she’d been trying to bury Catherine’s body. First her father. . . and now her ex-lover’s wife.
Someone is setting you up, Sarah.
As terrifying as that notion was, it was far preferable to the alternative. That she had done this. That she had killed all these people.
No. Don’t even think it.
She ran back through the cemetery, tripping twice over headstones, righting herself, trying not to think beyond the next few seconds.
Get out of here before the police come. Get in the car and drive. Just drive.
Fishing her keys out of her pocket, she tore through the gate and across the small parking area to her car. Hands trembling, she pressed the remote, then fumbled with the door handle trying to get in.
Key in ignition. Reverse. Get the hell out of here.
Just as she made the first corner, she glanced in her rearview and saw the lights flashing on the squad car as it made the corner and headed toward the cemetery.
* * *
Sarah left a message with Michael Garrett’s service and he called her back immediately.
“Sarah? I’ve been trying to reach you for hours. I’m on my way to Adamant right now. ” His voice sounded so close, so steady and reassuring that he might have been sitting in the car beside her.
“You’re on your way here? Why?”
“I’ll tell you in a moment. Are you all right? You sound out of breath, and stressed. ”
Her shaky laugh held a hint of hysteria. “Really? Maybe that’s because I just found a body in my dead sister’s grave. And, oh yeah, the porcelain bird I put in her coffin fourteen years ago is now sitting on the nightstand beside my bed. ”
A long pause. “Where are you?”
“Driving around in my car. I can’t go home because I think somebody’s called the cops on me. I’m already a suspect in my father’s murder, so what do you think they’ll do when they find that body on Rachel’s grave—” Sarah stopped short. It suddenly occurred to her that Michael didn’t seem all that surprised by anything she’d just told him. Even the most experienced therapist would surely have some reaction to the events she’d just de
scribed.
Her pulse quickened in alarm. “Michael, what’s going on? Why are you coming to see me?”
“I talked to Sean earlier tonight. ”
She swiped a strand of hair from her face with a shaking hand. “He told you he thinks I had something to do with these murders, didn’t he? That’s why you’re on your way here. You think I’m in some sort of crisis. ”
“We both think you’re connected to everything that’s happened, but not in the way you mean. If what we suspect is true, you could be in a great deal of danger. ”
Her heart started to hammer, her every muscle tensed and quivering. “Who’s doing this to me?”
“We don’t know yet. All I can tell you at the moment is that you need to get to a safe place and stay there. I’ll explain everything as soon as I see you. Have you talked to Sean?”
His calm, measured tone wasn’t helping. Sarah could feel panic working its way up her throat. “You mean tonight? No. ”
“He’s been trying to reach you, too. You weren’t answering your phone. ”
“I didn’t hear it ring,” Sarah said. “I was really out of it earlier. ” So out of it that she hadn’t heard someone come into her room and leave that bird.
Whoever it was must have turned off her phone, she realized. Just as he’d turned off the light in her room.
Everything that had happened tonight had been carefully orchestrated, and suddenly Sarah’s mind shot back to that glass of wine on her desk. It had been sitting there when she went up to the attic. . . .
The killer could come and go from her house as he pleased. Not just here, but her home in New Orleans, as well. Barring the attic window and changing the locks wouldn’t keep him out. Nothing would.
An icy fear coiled around Sarah’s spine. “It all goes back to Rachel’s murder, doesn’t it? Her killer is after me now. ”
“We think so. That’s why you need to get to a safe place to hide until we can help you. ”
She checked for headlights in the rearview mirror. The road behind her was clear. For now. “There’s only one way to stop this,” she said on a tremulous breath. “You have to help me remember what happened the night Rachel died. ”
“I’ll do anything I can to help you,” he said. “You know that. ”
“Will you hypnotize me?”
“Hypnosis may not give you all the answers,” he warned. “We’ve discussed this before. There could be a physical reason for your memory loss, in which case—”
“Memory regression hypnosis wouldn’t work,” she cut in. “I know all that. But it’s worth a try, isn’t it? What other choice do I have? He’s eluded the police all these years. What if they can’t catch him now? How long am I supposed to hide?”
Michael hesitated. “Try to stay calm and focused. We’ll work this out together. Just tell me how to find you. ”
“I’m going someplace where no one will think to look for me,” she said. “The directions won’t mean much until you get here. Call me as soon as you drive into town and I’ll lead you straight to me. ”
“Stay out of sight until I get there. Don’t call anyone. Don’t let anyone know where you are. Sarah, this is very important. Don’t trust anyone. Even someone you’ve know all your life. Do you understand?”
“Just get here as fast as you can,” she said.
* * *
The first thing Sean noticed when he pulled up to the house in Adamant was the open garage door. It was the middle of the night and Sarah’s car was missing.
He grabbed his Maglite from the glove box and walked down the driveway to the garage, aiming the light inside and over the lawn. As he neared the house, he saw that the side door was flung wide, as if someone had left in a big hurry.
Instinctively, he drew his weapon as he moved toward the entrance, his light sweeping aside the shadows as he stepped inside. Even though the door had been open, the house was still warm. Sarah must have just left.
Quickly, Sean walked from the kitchen straight through the dining room to the foyer, where he paused at the bottom of the stairs. The lower level was completely dark, but he could see a light shining from one of the rooms on the second floor.
He cocked his head, listening. He heard nothing.
The house was silent. And yet he had the uncanny feeling that he wasn’t alone. Someone was up there.
A warning whispered along his nerve endings as he moved stealthily up the stairs, his footsteps silenced by the thick runner.
At the top, he tucked the flashlight into his jacket and gripped the Glock with both hands as he eased down the hallway. A floorboard creaked underfoot and he froze.
A split second later, the light in the room went out.
“Sarah?”
No answer.
No sound at all except for the sudden throb of his own heartbeat in his ears.
Keeping his shoulder to the wall, he edged down the hallway, peering into the darkness for even the slightest movement. When he heard a window slide up, he lunged for the room, then paused at the door for a quick reconnoiter. A dark form was just slipping over the sill.