“Who do you think, Rachel? Your sweet, angelic husband who’s so sensitive he won’t even eat meat that someone else has butchered. If you’re wondering who the budding sociopath in the family was, you’re looking in the wrong direction. Just as everyone else in this fucking town did. Now settle down and stop fighting me, or I swear to God I’ll clock you one.”
She glared at him. He was crazy, he was a bully and a liar. His hatred for his younger brother had clearly put him over the edge.
He was also much stronger than she was, and he already had her at a disadvantage. “Okay,” she said with deceptive calm. “If you’ll tell me where you’re taking me.”
“Somewhere that my brother can’t get to you. Long enough to talk some sense into you. Are you going to stop fighting me?”
He was focusing on the dark, rain-slick road, and in the reflection of the streetlights his face looked almost frightening.
He was going too fast for her to jump out of the car. She forced herself to breathe slowly, trying to look at him objectively, and as she did, she calmed. He might be batshit insane, but he wasn’t going to hurt her. Totally deluded, but he wasn’t the Northwest Strangler. Of that, at least, she was sure.
“I’ll stop fighting you,” she said. Wondering if she’d just made the worst mistake of her life.
15
David came back late. Rachel’s car was gone, and he smiled smugly, until he noticed the tire tracks in the lawn. He let out a moan of pain, parking his car and stumbling over to the damaged apple tree. The trunk was split in half—in a matter of months, maybe sooner, it would be dead. He knelt down on the muddy lawn, tears in his eyes as he touched the dying tree. The loss of its perfection seared his soul.
It was her fault. He’d brought her into his life, with her exquisite daughter, sure that she would adapt, become a graceful complement while he watched Sophie blossom and mature. He’d been so sure it would fill that dark, empty hole inside him.
It hadn’t. She was too bright, too brash, her colors clashing with his muted palate, her music ripping through the calm of his house. She stood between him and Sophie, thwarting him, when she’d promised to love and obey him. They hadn’t used those words in the judge’s office in San Francisco, but she knew they were implied.
Instead she’d taken over his house, turning his breakfast room into a studio for her silly photography, she’d put bright scarves over the furniture in her bedroom, and she used crude language in front of her angelic daughter. He thought she’d be reasonable. Instead she was a disaster.
But he was a man who knew how to deal with disaster, he reminded himself, brushing away his tears as he rose from his muddy spot on the ground, keeping his eyes averted from the ruin of the lawn. She refused to even look at the adoption papers, she kept coming between him and Sophie, when clearly Sophie adored him. The answer had been beautiful in its simplicity.
His brother had returned. His brother, who had always taken everything David had ever wanted. When Caleb was around, no one would look twice at David. Even the stray mutt he’d picked up would whine and cringe when David came near it. He’d taken care of that, of course.
The girls as well. Caleb had an unerring instinct for picking the girls that David would have fallen in love with. It was cosmically unfair—he never realized he loved them until Caleb would bring them around. And he’d made them pay. But Caleb had haunted him all his life. Even his mother had preferred the stranger to her own flesh-and-blood son.
He’d dealt with that as well. It had been Caleb’s fault, of course. If it weren’t for him he never would have had to do the terrible things he did.
And in truth, only the ignorant ones would think his actions were terrible. He understood his choices, understood his needs and his calling, and he needed no approval from anyone. True visionaries always had to go it alone, and he preferred it that way.
She didn’t double lock the door when she left. Every light in the house was on. He stripped off his muddy clothes and shoes, double locked the door and moved through the house, methodically turning off lights. He could see very well in the dark—he’d trained himself, since so much of his most important work took place in the dark. The bright electric lights hurt his eyes. He went to the kitchen last, and as he flicked off the lights the bright red glare of the blinking light on the answering machine assaulted him.
She’d never checked the messages. He pushed the button and deleted each one, pausing long enough to admire the smoothness of his tone. He frowned at the lawyer’s voice. Blanchard was being far too conscientious—he didn’t need to talk to her. He’d made her wishes clear himself—enough that it should hold up in court.
The final message from Maggie Bannister was the best. The car had been towed to the local impound, and it was clear the brakes had been tampered with. But he hadn’t touched them.
It was typical of Caleb, always trying to outdo his younger brother. He must have thought that David loved her, as he’d loved those girls Caleb had brought home. It served his purpose beautifully, whatever his brother’s reasons were.
But really, it was all falling into place so beautifully that he knew it was meant to be. There was no proof, not even enough to suspect David of the things he’d done. He’d been far too careful. He was invulnerable.
But Caleb wasn’t nearly as smart. He would have left some trace behind, and that would be enough to convict him. Particularly once Rachel was dead.
He went outside to mourn his apple tree.
Caleb kept a close eye on her as he drove. As long as he kept his speed up she wouldn’t try anything—she wouldn’t want to hurt the baby. She seemed to have given up fighting for the time being—maybe she was finally beginning to realize just how big a mess she was in.
He couldn’t count on it. Sophie was safely out of the way, staying at the sheriff’s house. That couldn’t have worked out better if he’d planned it, and it must infuriate David. Maggie Bannister was a levelheaded woman—she might not trust him further than she could throw him, but she didn’t trust David, either. She was smart enough to look beneath the surface of everything, including Stephen Henry Middleton, Professor Emeritus.
He’d taken a chance last night when Maggie had questioned him. He’d half expected her to push him into a chair at the police station and shine a bright light in his face.
“Have a seat, Caleb. Can I get you some coffee?” She’d been businesslike, pleasant, but he didn’t make the mistake of relaxing.
“I’m fine,” he said, taking the seat at the table. There were U-shaped iron hooks there, presumably to lock onto handcuffs. Normally he’d think that was overkill in a sleepy little town like Silver Falls. But not now.
Maggie took the seat opposite him, her gray eyes seeing everything he didn’t want her to see. “So why don’t you tell me why you came back home this week? You’ve only stayed here one or two nights at the most in the last twenty years, according to David,. Suddenly you’ve moved back in, ready to take your place in Silver Falls society at the same time a serial killer shows up, and I’m wondering if that’s a coincidence. Because I have to tell you, Caleb, I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“Maybe after twenty years I was getting homesick. Time to revisit my roots.”
“Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe you had another reason. When did you hear David got married?”
Why the hell was she asking that question? He couldn’t very well lie—it would be too easy for her to find out. In fact, his best bet would be to tell the truth as much as possible. Easier that way. “Last week. Stephen Henry sent me the announcement from the paper. I’ve been trying to forget about this town, so I’d purposely steered clear of any word of it online or off.”
“So you decided to come home. Wasn’t that short notice for the press service you work for?”
He wasn’t surprised she knew about his job—Maggie Bannister was a thorough woman. She probably knew his boss’s name, the names of the last three women he’d slept with, how much h
e weighed and what his favorite brand of beer was. “I’ve worked for them for a long time and I’m a valued asset. They want to keep me happy and I wanted to come home. To meet my new sister-in-law, of course,” he added.
“Did you know she had a young daughter?”
“No.”
“Were you worried about something?”
He stared at her, stone-faced. He had to be very careful what he said. If he tipped his hand everything could blow up and there’d be no way to stop the nightmare that had been haunting him for so many years.
“What would I have to be worried about, Maggie?” he said, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Are you worried about something?”
“I’ve had one senseless murder and another corpse show up in my town, and the FBI is calling them serial killings. What do you think?”
“What do you want from me?”
“The truth,” she said, her voice flat.
He was almost tempted. He needed to stop David, by any means possible. The best of all possible outcomes would be to get him locked away, where he couldn’t hurt anyone.
But that wasn’t going to happen until they found more proof. David was smart and cunning. He’d have to screw up big-time to let that happen.
The good news was that he had started making mistakes. But people were still dying, and Caleb couldn’t let that happen. He’d turned a blind eye to the unthinkable for too long.
His mother had wanted him to look out for David. She’d known David was damaged goods, and Stephen Henry did, too. The difference was that her husband was happy to throw his older son to the wolves, just to protect David.
Caleb couldn’t let that happen any longer, not with the stakes so high. If Maggie couldn’t find proof in the next couple of days then Caleb would have no choice but to do the unthinkable.
Stop David himself. By any means possible.
He looked across the desk at the sheriff. Underestimating Maggie Bannister was a mistake a lot of people made, but he wasn’t a lot of people. In the end, he had to put a stop to David.
He leaned forward. “I’ll tell you one thing, Maggie. You should keep Sophie at your house until this is over. Don’t let her go home, don’t let her go out without you and your daughter. I don’t care what kind of excuse you have to make, just don’t let her go home.”
She didn’t blink. “And that’s all you’re going to say? I’ll listen, you know.”
He leaned back. “That’s pretty much it.”
She looked at him for a long time, her eyes searching his face. “What about Rachel?” she asked suddenly. “Don’t you think she’s going to put up a fuss if I keep Sophie?”
“I think you’re smart enough to figure out a way to convince her.”
“But you don’t think I’m smart enough to have a pretty good guess what’s really going on?”
For the first time in his life someone in the claustrophobic little town of Silver Falls looked ready to believe him. “You tell me,” he said.
She shook her head. “When you decide to be honest with me I might return the favor. In the meantime I’ll look after Sophie. You keep an eye on Rachel. I don’t want to lose anyone else.”
It was as close to a declaration of trust as he could have hoped for. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”
And Maggie had nodded, satisfied.
Of course she hadn’t expected him to sabotage Rachel’s brakes and then haul her out into the wilderness by force. Chances were a law enforcement officer like the sheriff wouldn’t approve, but then, he’d never been one to do what was expected of him.
He shifted the Toyota into low as the road grew muddier. Rachel had her arms across her chest, her face averted, and she was radiating anger. Maybe he should be glad that she was such a fighter—it had probably kept her alive so far and would continue to do so. But for now it was annoying the hell out of him.
She was the one to break the charged silence. “I don’t suppose you let your brother know you carted me off like a sack of potatoes?”
“How much do you want to bet he already knows?”
She didn’t respond to that one. “Sophie,” she said, her voice thick with tension. “I need to make sure Sophie is okay.”
“Sophie’s with Sheriff Bannister, and she’ll stay with her until this is over.”
She turned to look at him. “Why?” she demanded.
“You know why,” he said in an even voice. “You just don’t want to admit it. Sophie’s not going back to that house and neither are you.”
She exploded. “Don’t be ridiculous! If you’re trying to tell me that David is some kind of serial killer, then you’re wasting your breath. You’ve barely seen him during the last twenty years—I’ve been living with him for the last four months. David wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Maybe not. But he’d hurt you.” They’d reached a deserted stretch of road, and he slowed, looking for the turn.
“What kind of proof do you have? I’d trust him a hell of a lot more than I’d trust you!”
“I know. Which is why I kidnapped you.” He took a sharp right, heading down the rutted road. “He’s not going to have time to find you—he’s going to be too busy trying to frame me.”
“Oh, I forgot, you’re the poor innocent and David’s the sociopath,” she said, her voice rich with scorn. “Where the fuck are you taking me?”
He almost wanted to smile at her use of David’s forbidden word. “As far away as I can drive in one night. I’ll dump you somewhere that David can’t find you and then come back here and finish this.”
“Dump me or my body?”
“You’re pissing me off.”
“Why? Because I don’t like being dragged off in the middle of the night? Because I don’t trust you? Because I sure as hell don’t like you!” Her voice was getting stronger as her fear was fading.
Good. Because he didn’t want her frightened of him, not when he was the only thing that stood between her and death.
“Now that’s a lie,” he drawled. “Your problem is you like me too much and you’re feeling guilty about it.”
“Oh, please!”
“David knows. He’s always been able to figure people out. He would have known the moment he found us outside my father’s kitchen door that you were attracted to me. And he’s done everything he can to foster it.” He glanced at her. “Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
“The only thing I’ve figured out is that you’re batshit insane.”
“You’ve got the wrong brother.”
“I’m with the wrong brother,” she said. “And if you think I’m going anywhere without my daughter you’re even more deluded than you appear to be.”
“You’re here, aren’t you?” He pulled the car to a stop and killed the lights.
“And exactly where is here?”
“Bates Motel,” he said.
“What?”
He turned off the motor and slid from the car. “That’s just what we call it. This was supposed to be the route the state road took, and years ago someone built a motel here. Then someone paid someone off, the highway got rerouted, and the motel closed.”
“Great. And now Norman Bates wanders around dressed like his mother…” She looked at him. “That reminds me. Where is your mother buried?”
“Damn, woman,” he said, opening her door. She sat there, furious and unmoving. “You’re really trying to get on my nerves. Good thing you didn’t try it with David—you’d be dead already.”
“Your brother is not a rapist and murderer,” she said in the flat voice of absolute certainty.
He reached over and unfastened her seat belt. She hit at him, trying to stop him, but he simply hauled her out of the car, ignoring her struggles. “And you know that…how?”
“I just know. And if you think I’m going with you into the creepy place you’re out of your mind.”
“Haven’t you figured out that you don’t have any choice?” he countered. He clamped a hand on he
r wrist. He didn’t want to risk hurting her or the baby, but keeping her alive came first.
The sign for the Sleeping Bear Motel had long ago faded, the neon tubes burst by kids throwing rocks. The place really did look like something out of Psycho, but the Silver Falls police used it as a safe place to stash people. Material witnesses, abused wives and girlfriends, runaway kids whose parents might be worse than the streets—the motel had seen them all. If it weren’t for his connections he wouldn’t have known about it. People steered clear of the place, and David didn’t know it existed.
“I’m not going in there,” Rachel said, pulling back.
She was far from a lightweight, and scooping her up was no easy task, but years of rough living had made him strong enough to deal with one hundred and thirty pounds or so of squirming female. Hard to unlock the door at the unit on the end, but he managed, turning the knob and kicking it open.
The musty smell spilled out—the place hadn’t been used for a long time. He crossed the room, dumped her on the double bed and then shut the door behind them, bolting and locking it before turning on the lights.
It looked both better and worse than he’d expected. The place was clean enough—just a thin layer of dust on the rabbit-ears television which was probably black and white, and the bedspread looked like something out of the 1950s. The angry woman sitting in the middle of it was the anomaly, and for a moment he didn’t move, looking at her.
Thank God she was pregnant. Because otherwise he’d be hard put to keep his hands off her. Though she’d probably clobber him if he tried. He had to be as crazy as his brother to even notice how attracted he was…
Hell, that wasn’t it. It wasn’t lust pure and simple. Or not so pure, and definitely not so simple. Because he didn’t just want to fuck her absolutely ripe, luscious body. He wanted her quick mind and quicker tongue. He was drawn to her as he’d never been drawn to anyone before, and all he could think was maybe Stephen Henry was right after all and he’d just been deluded. Maybe he was obsessed with her because she was David’s.