A haircloth, just like Dante’s sinners wore.
Dropping the gown, she shuddered and rubbed her palms on her jeans. The thing was nasty. What was she going to do? She couldn’t put it on.
But he’d make her.
Either she could do it willingly and with courage, or he’d kill her here and now. While there was life, there was hope. Shucking off her jeans and shirt, she picked up the oily cloth and dropped it over her head. The material itched and irritated.
She missed hearing Oliver’s entrance until he was right behind her.
“Shall we go?” He wrapped a rope around her wrists and began to tie her up.
She flexed her wrists as much as she could as he secured her hands behind her, then he took her arm in a tight grip and marched her outside.
Eve stumbled over the rough ground as he pushed her. The night air had never tasted so fresh. He forced her into the boat and cuffed her to a mooring cleat. Without another word, he stepped in and pushed the boat into the lake. He started the motor, then guided it toward the island, overgrown and wild. Eve watched its approach. Her bare arms pebbled with goose bumps. Working the ropes, she felt them give a little.
The swans swam to meet them. Digging into a bag on the bottom of the boat, Gideon began to throw bits of peanut butter sandwiches all around in the water. They flocked to the food.
Eve couldn’t see the water because of the birds. There had to be hundreds of them.
He switched off the motor and threw an anchor overboard before stepping into the water and dragging the boat ashore.
“What are you going to do?” Eve’s voice trembled. “Why am I dressed like this if you’re going to blind me and take my face?”
He unlocked the cuffs and tossed them into the pond. His face was set but serene, and he didn’t seem to be listening.
“I know sorry isn’t good enough, Oliver, but I really am sorry. I was young and stupid. If only I could do it all over again.” She remembered that night like it was yesterday.
She heard the music, saw herself imitating the intricate steps she’d seen Miranda perform in practice, a routine Miranda had choreographed herself. It had been so natural to steal the steps she admired. Eve almost didn’t realize she’d done it until the crowd was on its feet, cheering.
Eve would never forget the look on Miranda’s face when she started her own performance.
Moments later, Miranda lost her balance and fell headfirst from the stage into the lights. Then her clothes had burst into flames. Eve shuddered at the memory.
“You stole Miranda’s dance steps. She could only compensate for it by trying something daring and different. Something dangerous.” He stood on the bank, pointing his finger at her. “You brought this on yourself.”
“I know,” she whispered. “But why now, after all these years?”
“The first years we spent going from doctor to doctor. With every one who told me there was nothing he could do, my hatred of you grew. For solace, I turned to learning, to seeking the truth. The truth is that pain shapes us. Even Miranda. She’ll be stronger for all this. But she’s suffered long enough. Now it’s your turn to be educated. And her turn to have a new face.”
He grabbed her arm, hauled her out of the boat, then propelled her to the cabin that squatted in the center of the tiny circle of land that wasn’t much bigger than the building.
She fought him, trying to bite him, to kick him, but her struggles were futile with her hands tied behind her. He thrust open the door and dragged her inside. Music blared from speakers, and bright lights shocked her unadjusted eyes. She shuddered at the music—“Black Swan Pas de Deux.”
Blinking in the bright wash of light, she stood swaying in the middle of the room while he shut and locked the door. In the Swan Queen’s white costume, Miranda lay on what looked like an operating table under the lights. Other medical equipment flanked the room.
Her gaze went to the table holding a big sewing needle and wire. Her stomach cramped, and she nearly doubled over. He was ready to inflict plenty of pain.
Oliver went to the metal table and picked up the needle and wire. His smile seemed easy and relaxed.
The needle’s evil glint drew Eve’s attention. “You don’t know how to transplant a face,” she whispered. “You’ll kill Miranda as well as me.” Her gaze went to the other woman. There was now no doubt in her mind that Miranda had died already. Should she tell Oliver, or would it inflame him more?
“I went to medical school, you know,” he said. “And I’ve extensively studied the procedure. She’ll die anyway if I don’t try. She has leukemia.”
She might as well go for it. Eve nodded to the gurney. “She’s dead already, Oliver. Look at her. You killed her by taking her from care.”
His eyes flashed. “Your lies won’t work. Miranda will live and love me again.”
Eve backed away as he came toward her. Twisting her wrists in the ropes, she felt them give more. If she could keep him talking until she got her hands free, she had a chance. “Why did you take the other women if you wanted me?”
“Ballerinas should be above reproach. Gifted with so much beauty and grace, you should guard your morals. When I found one who fell, I removed her.”
She knew she had to tread carefully. Goad him enough to keep him talking and explaining himself without pushing him over the edge.
“But they’re all blonde like me. And Miranda. I think you like killing. You justify your urges by telling yourself you were ordained to preserve the ballet’s status, but it’s not true.”
His smile faltered. “That’s not true. I have a mission.”
“What happens when I’m dead? Will you keep watching for more blonde ballerinas to kill? I think you will. I don’t think it’s about Miranda at all. It’s about you.”
He was shaking his head, coming nearer with the wicked needle and wire.
She wrenched her wrists so hard that pain radiated up to her shoulder. One hand slid out of the rope, then the other. She was free! Still backing away, she calculated her opportunity. He’d locked the door, so she needed time to get it unlocked and open.
Oliver began to thread the curved needle with wire. Eve took the chance. She ran at him, using her strong legs to drive her headfirst into his pudgy stomach. He reeled, knocking over a stainless steel cart and sending the scalpels and other instruments falling to the floor. His head slammed into the cart, and he slumped at its base.
Eve darted past his feet and fumbled with the deadbolt. The thing was new and stiff and resisted her efforts until she realized she was twisting it the wrong way. She got it open and ran outside.
Gideon shouted behind her, but she was already shoving the boat into the water. She got in and managed to get the motor started. It puttered much slower than she would have liked. Turning, she saw Gideon wading in after her. Oliver, teeth bared, threw himself at the boat and managed to grab the edge. She turned to dive out, then reconsidered.
The swans were coming to meet them. Hundreds of swans.
32
PERSPIRATION DRIPPED DOWN NICK’S FOREHEAD. THE TER-rain had been mostly uphill, and they had to sidestep heavy vegetation often. At least the moon was out, though the thick trees blocked much of its glow.
He broke through the underbrush to find Bree and Kade sitting on a tree stump. Bree’s mouth drooped, and Samson lay at her feet.
“What’s wrong?” Nick asked.
“Samson’s exhausted, and he’s lost the trail again,” Kade said softly. “I’m letting Bree sleep awhile. She’s about to drop where she stands.”
“I’m awake.” Bree sighed and got up. “Now that I’ve got a little strength back, I’m going to climb a tree and try to get a signal so I can talk to my dad.”
“It’s nearly eleven,” Kade pointed out.
“Maybe he’ll be lucid. I just need some kind of clue to where we’re going. You know these woods, Kade. If he could just tell us something, we might know where to head.”
“I’ll
climb,” Nick said.
“He wouldn’t talk to you. Kade offered, too, but I’m the one he’d be most apt to talk to.” She got up and went to an oak tree. “One of you want to give me a hand up? Sorry to be a weenie, but I’m so tired.”
“I’ll do it.” Kade went to his wife. Lacing his fingers together, he made a ledge of his hands for her to put her foot on. He hoisted her higher when she stepped onto his laced fingers.
She grabbed the tree limb and swung up into the branches. “Be right back.” She disappeared into the foliage.
Nick swept the beam of his flashlight around while he waited. The light didn’t penetrate much, and every tree looked like another. It would be easy to get lost out here. He could hear Bree’s voice, muffled by the leaves. Settling on the ground, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
The first time he’d seen Eve had been magic. She was dancing in The Nutcracker. He’d never seen anyone so graceful. Floating around the dance floor, she embodied the music. He hadn’t anticipated his reaction, because he wasn’t a ballet sort of guy. His mother had wanted them all to go for her birthday, and she’d dragged him kicking and screaming.
But he’d fallen for Eve in that moment. He hung around backstage until she’d changed and was leaving for the night. Her face scrubbed clean of makeup, she was even more beautiful up close.
He smiled, remembering how hard it had been to talk her into going out for coffee.
Bree gave a wild yell from the tree, and her feet slid into view. “He gave me something!”
Kade reached up and helped her down, holding her a minute before he let go. “What’d he say?”
“He kept talking about fishing. And he said something about the swans on the pond. Isn’t there an old fishing cabin clear at the end of the fire trail? I seem to remember something about it.”
“Yeah. I haven’t been back that way in ages though. You think he could have gotten that far?” Kade asked.
“It’s worth a shot. Let’s go look.”
“How far are we?” Nick asked.
Bree consulted her GPS and showed it to Kade. “What do you think—maybe a half mile?”
“I’d guess about that,” Kade said. “I think the trail is about a quarter mile west of here. If we get on it first, we can make better time.”
“Lead the way,” Nick said. “Maybe we’re not too late.”
A SWAN ROSE OFF THE WATER AND BEAT AT HER FACE WITH its wings. Eve fell back in the boat, landing on the wooden bottom. The hair-shirt tore at her flesh, and she thought she felt a trickle of blood. The swan advanced with its neck outstretched. Trumpeting its outrage, the swan jabbed at her leg with its beak, breaking the skin and drawing blood.
She kicked out, and the swan toppled into the water.
Oliver climbed into the boat, rocking it wildly as she tried to right herself. He cut the motor. “They want more food.” Oliver stooped to lift the bag of sandwiches.
Not stopping to think or plan, Eve sprang to her feet, braced her legs, and rocked the boat powerfully to the right. If she went into the water with the swans, at least she’d go down fighting.
When the boat dipped, Oliver flung out his hands to try to balance himself. It looked as though he might succeed as the boat settled.
Eve balanced herself and lifted her leg in a quick grande battement. Her toe struck him on the shoulder, and he flailed, but it wasn’t enough to keep him from toppling headfirst into the water. He went under, then his head popped up in the midst of the swans.
The birds began to jab at him with their beaks. He screamed, an almost womanly sound, and struck back at them. His cries seemed to agitate them further.
A flurry of feathers churned the waters. Trumpeting calls drowned out his screams. Covering her ears, Eve screamed with him. It was horrible, horrible. Then there was silence.
She dropped onto the seat and put her face in her hands. She didn’t want to give in to tears, not yet. She still had to get out of here. When she lifted her head, she found herself nose to beak with a huge swan. A drop of blood dripped from the swan’s beak. She shuddered and scrabbled back. The swan came closer, craning its neck toward her. Then it dipped its head and bit her on the leg.
She screamed again, but her back was already against the motor. The other swans drifted closer, and terror closed her throat. Bree had told her swans could be dangerous, but until tonight, she hadn’t believed her.
The big swan in the boat trumpeted, and another swan landed on the edge of the boat, rocking it in the water.
“Shoo, go on, get out of here.” Eve made a shooing motion with her hand. She picked up an old towel lying in the bottom of the boat and flapped it around.
A third swan landed in the boat. The same fear and disorientation she’d felt the first time she watched The Birds multiplied.
Another swan lifted in the air. Its wing struck her face, and the force knocked her to the bottom of the boat. She struggled to her feet and saw a patch of clear water past the swans. If she could dive past them and swim for shore, she might make it.
She stood, but the swan knocked her down again. Another hissed and bit at her ankle. Dimly, she heard a splash. Her head still reeling, she tried to sit up. It sounded like someone was swimming, but surely Oliver was dead.
A man’s hand slapped the top of the boat.
WHEN NICK SAW THE SWANS ATTACKING HIS WIFE, HE DIDN’T think; he reacted. A broken paddle lay on the ground. He grabbed it, kicked off his shoes, and dove into the water. Eve’s screams tore his heart out. His arms churned the water, and his feet propelled him in her direction.
Gulping in oxygen, Nick’s head surfaced. He was only two feet away. He reached the boat and tossed the paddle in, then climbed in himself. Snatching up the paddle, he began to whack the swans with it.
“Get out of here!” Thwack, thwack. He struck the swans on the tail feathers with the flat end of the paddle. After several indignant squawks and trumpets, the swans flew back to the water and glided away.
Nick dropped the paddle and knelt beside Eve. Her eyes looked dazed. A smear of blood marred the pale skin of her cheek. “Eve, honey, are you okay?” He still couldn’t quite believe she wasn’t already dead.
“I . . . I’m okay,” she whispered. She touched the stubble on his chin. “You need a shave.”
He barked a laugh. “I need more than a shave. I stink to high heaven. I haven’t seen the inside of a building since you disappeared.” He hugged her to his chest. “I thought I’d lost you.”
She was wet and shivering. “He’s dead,” she said. “The swans killed him.”
“Swans? Holy cow.” He released her and stood, waving to Kade and Bree, who stood on the shore. Samson was barking. “She’s okay!”
Eve held up her hand for Nick to help her stand. “It’s Miranda, Oliver’s wife. He thought a new face—my face—would heal her.” She turned and pointed to the island. “She’s in that cabin.”
“I figured out it was Oliver. I still can’t believe it.”
“I’m so tired.” She leaned her head against his chest again.
The full explanation of what had happened could wait. He needed to get her home and in bed. Thankfulness welled in his soul. It could have turned out much differently. “Sit down. I’ll get us to shore.”
Nick started the engine and guided the boat through the ripples of water to shore.
Kade waded out and grabbed the bow, and Nick cut the motor. Kade pulled the boat onto the bank.
Bree rushed to Eve. “Oh, Eve, I prayed and prayed. Thank God you’re all right.”
Samson leaped into the boat and began to lick Eve’s face. She put her arms around him. “Good boy, Samson. I bet you’re the one who found me, aren’t you?”
“It was tough going, but he brought us in the right direction. And my dad helped.”
“Oh, thank God Bernard made it back. I was so worried about him.”
“He’s fine.”
“What happened?” Eve asked.
&nbs
p; “It’s a long story,” Bree said. “Let’s go home.”
EVE’S SHIVERS FINALLY STOPPED. SHE SAT IN BREE’S LIVING room in front of a roaring fire with a mug of hot tea. With her palms cupped around it, she inhaled the aroma and the moist heat. Though it was summer, her ordeal had left her cold, inside and out.
Bree stepped into the room. “The kids are sleeping. We should be too. It’s after one, but I want to know everything.”
Eve’s mind had been running around and around it anyway. “I don’t really understand it all myself. I’m hoping Nick and Kade will have more information when they hear what Cyril finds out at Oliver’s house in Cheboygan. All I really know is he thought he could bring his wife out of her state and back to life with my face.” She shuddered.
Bree glanced at her with guarded eyes. “Um, Eve, I’ve got something to tell you. It’s going to be hard.”
“What’s wrong?” Eve’s insides clenched.
“It’s about Patti.”
Eve closed her eyes. “She got custody?” she whispered.
“No, no, nothing like that. There was an . . . incident . . . at the camp. Some tainted food got into the food supply. Ten people are already dead.” Bree took her hand. “I’m sorry, but Patti and Will are two of them. They were the worst off when Nick and Kade found them and called the ambulance.”
Eve inhaled softly. “They’re dead?” Bree’s hand was her anchor. Memories flooded her mind. “Patti wasn’t always this way. I remember when she was a little girl and I’d read stories to her. We’d bake cookies together, play games when my parents were out drinking.” She swallowed the pain. “I’d always hoped things between us would change.”
“I know.”
The tears she’d been holding at bay flooded her eyes. “I should be happy,” she sobbed. “They can’t take Keri from me. But I feel like I cheated. I got everything I want, and she only got pain in her life.”
“She made her own choices, Eve. We all do. We all have pain. It’s up to us to decide how to let God use that pain for our good.”