Erica Spindler - Dead Run

Liz glanced quickly to her left, then right. If she screamed, would anyone hear her? And if they did, would they react in time?

She doubted it but decided to push him anyway. “But I know who you are. I know your name. That’s why you came looking for me, isn’t it?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Am I a loose end?”

She saw her meaning sink in, saw disbelief and horror creep into his eyes. And realized she had nothing to fear from him.

“ Tara didn’t tell you about us. She was absolutely set on secrecy.”

“Why so secretive?”

“Because she was afraid.” He looked away, then back, features twisted with grief. “She led me to believe it was her parents she feared. They were strict, she said. They would break us up. Now I realize the truth. It was her friends’ wrath she feared, not her parents’.”

Liz frowned. “When you say she was afraid her friends would do her harm, what exactly are you talking about? Social alienation? Surely not bodily harm? I mean…you’re not suggesting that her friends…that they-”

“Killed her,” he whispered. “I think they did.”

Liz shook her head, thinking of the implausibility of it, recalling what Rick Wells had told her about the killing. “Look, this isn’t common knowledge, but someone close to the investigation told me that Tara’s murder resembled the style of a serial killer who operated out of Miami a number of years ago. That killer is sitting on death row, but they believe an accomplice or copycat killed Tara.”

“That’s not right, I know it’s not.”

She leaned toward him. “How do you know?”

For a long moment, he sat silent. She sensed that he was struggling to collect himself, his thoughts. “We were going to run away together. That night. Tara was afraid. Of them. Her friends. They had threatened her.”

“In what way?”

Tears flooded his eyes. He looked away. “ Tara belonged to this group. They were very possessive of one another, very jealous. Members were not allowed to associate with those not a part of the Flower-”

“The Flower?” she interrupted.

“The Horned Flower. That’s the name of the group.”

A chill raced up her spine. The drawings in her sister’s notes. Could they represent this group?

“Tara and I had dated a few times when she told me about her friends,” he continued. “‘Her family,’ she called them. She asked if I wanted to join.”

“And you said no.”

“I’m a Christian, Ms. Ames. And these kids…they were into some bad stuff. Things that I couldn’t…wouldn’t be a part of, even though I really liked Tara.”

“What kind of bad stuff?”

“Drugs. And sex.” He cleared his throat. “But it was more than that. It’s what they believed. And what they didn’t believe.”

She waited, sensing he needed time.

“They didn’t believe in God. Not in heaven or hell. Only the here and now. In earthly pleasures. They believed they owed allegiance to no one but themselves and their Horned Flower family.”

Liz thought of the things Tara had said during their sessions, the comments she’d made about the devil, heaven and hell. No wonder Tara had sounded so conflicted.

“I told her I couldn’t see her anymore, not if she was going to be a part of that group.”

“And she chose you.”

“Yes.”

He sighed, shifting his gaze to the horizon and the rapidly setting sun. She, too, turned her gaze to the gulf. In the exact moment the sun sank from sight, a flash of green light appeared. A cheer rose up from the crowd.

“Dear Lord.”

She looked at her young companion in question.

He met her eyes. “Did you see it? The green light?” She nodded and he continued. “It’s rare. Tara used to say…” His throat seemed to close over the words and he cleared it. “She used to say if you saw the flash of green you were destined for something big.”

“Did she ever see it?”

He nodded. “The last time…she saw it the day before…she found out she was pregnant.”

“I’m sorry.”

With the main event over, the crowd quickly dispersed. Quiet and darkness settled over them. Liz shivered.

“ Tara knew who you are.”

“Excuse me?”

“She knew who you really are.”

Liz called his bluff. “Really? And who am I?”

“You’re Pastor Rachel’s sister.” Liz caught her breath; he looked at her. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

Liz clasped her hands together. “How did she know?”

“Didn’t ask.”

“Did she…say anything about that? Or about my sister?”

“She liked your sister a lot. She felt bad about what happened to her.”

Liz’s heart beat hard against the wall of her chest. “Did she…know what happened to her?”

He shook his head and she held back a cry of disappointment, though it tasted sour against her tongue. “Why are you telling me all this?” she managed to say after a moment.

“The way I figure it, maybe your sister’s disappearance and Tara ’s death are related.”

She could have wept with relief. This kid thought the same way she did. She wasn’t crazy.

And she wasn’t alone, not anymore. “How do you figure that?” she asked.

“ Tara was always so weird about your sister’s disappearance,” he murmured. “Besides, it just kind of makes sense to me.”

“Me too.” Silence fell between them. After several moments, she met his eyes. “What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing. I called you because I wanted someone…to know everything. In case something happens to me.”

“I don’t understand,” she said, alarmed.

“Right now I only suspect that her friends killed her. I’m going to find out for sure.”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “How?”

“I’m going to become one of them.”

“Bad idea. Very bad idea.”

“It’s the only way.”

“Why not go to the police?”

He simply looked at her and she acknowledged the answer to her own question: as the father of Tara ’s baby, he would be a prime suspect. To make matters worse, by his own admission he had been there that night. And had run from the scene.

Most probably, if he went to the police, he would end up behind bars.

She let out a long breath. “You think these people are killers, for heaven’s sake. If what you suspect is true, getting close to them will put you in harm’s way, big time. This is not a good idea.”

“You’re not going to change my mind.” He glanced behind them at the nearly empty square, then stood. “I better go.”

“Wait!” She followed him to his feet. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Mark. Mark Morgan.”

“Don’t go yet.” She held out a hand. “Let’s talk about this before you-”

He cut her off. “There’s nothing to talk about. Besides, it’s too late. I already contacted a couple of Tara ’s friends.” A smile touched his mouth. “Thanks though, for…caring.”

She made a sound of frustration. “But how will I know if you need help?”

“You won’t hear from me,” he said simply. “If that happens, go to Rick Wells. He’s a friend. I trust him.”

“Rick Wells?” she repeated, surprised.

“Do you know him?”

“Yes, I…we met.”

He nodded and started off, then stopped and looked back at her. “Remember me in your prayers, okay? I think I’m going to need them.”

Friday, November 16

10:20 p.m.

Mark waited for Sarah, his Horned Flower connection. While he waited, he prayed. For guidance and protection. For strength.

Tonight he would be initiated into the Horned Flower.

He was afraid.

Mark lifted his gaze to the sky. Dense cloud cover obliterated the full moon. This time of night Southernmost Beach -so named because it was literally the southernmost beach in the country-was deserted. From behind came the sound of traffic from Whitehead and South Streets. A Jimmy Buffet tune poured from a car’s open window.