Marie Harte - RetroCog

“Oh yeah,” he rasped. “You’re definitely in charge.”

They returned to the inn the next morning holding hands. Lara wanted everyone to see how she felt about Noah, and he apparently felt the same. He’d glared at no less than half a dozen men as they left a small cantina and walked to the inn.

It both embarrassed and pleased her. “Come on, Noah. They’re guys I know from town. Friends, nothing more.”

“I’m feeling a little possessive. And besides, that last guy couldn’t seem to look anywhere but at your breasts.”

“That would be Ned.” She shrugged. “What can I say? He’s just like you, only I don’t love him.”

Satisfaction filled his eyes. “Damn right you don’t. You’re—”

“Mine,” she finished for him. “You’ve only said it every other minute. But don’t forget, it goes both ways.” She scowled at one of Shelly’s friends standing by the mailbox. “She seems to find you just a little too interesting.”

Noah squeezed her fingers. “I like this side of you. Why don’t you go on over there and tackle her, Lara. You think maybe you and she could wrestle for me? Add a little mud or some oil, and we’ll have a real party.”

“Jerk.”

He laughed, and several people turned to look at them as they entered the inn.

“Seeing Shelly’s friend reminds me… I think it’s time I found the girl and had a heart-to-heart with her.”

Frank walked up to her and pulled her free hand, tugging her, and by extension, Noah, back down the hall to her office. He looked harassed, and she felt awful. While she’d been having the time of her life with Noah, Frank had been back here holding down the fort. Alone, by the looks of him.

Lara apologized. “Frank, I’m sorry. I should have been here for breakfast, but…”

“I handed out complimentary passes to the diner on the corner. Don’t worry; no one went hungry this morning. Unfortunately, we have bigger problems to deal with than a missed meal.” Frank didn’t look as if he’d slept last night. His clothes appeared rumpled, his hair loose around his shoulders, and shadows dragged below his eyes.

“Frank?”

Noah tugged, forcing her and Frank to stop with him. “Where’s Chloe?”

Frank let go of Lara and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. She grabbed a set of sheets from me and locked herself in your room last night.” Frank didn’t tease or crack a smile, and Lara knew they had problems. “But I haven’t seen her since eleven. And I’m worried.” He glanced from Noah to Lara and back. “Noah, one of the nurses at the hospital where they stitched you up yesterday… She was found dead in the hospital stairwell. Raped and murdered like the other girl, except whoever killed her sliced her throat open this time as well.”

“Dear God.” Lara grabbed her own throat.

Frank blinked, and she swore she saw a sheen of tears in his eyes. “It gets worse. They also found Shelly. Her body had been dumped in the same place they found the first victim a few days ago. She looked exactly the same. Now there’s talk of a serial killer in Brownville.”

“Shelly?” Lara whispered. The girl had been a nuisance, but also a fun-loving young woman who’d needed time to mature into a responsible adult. She couldn’t help the tears that trickled down her cheeks. “Poor Shelly.”

Noah dropped her hand and gave her a hug. “No sign of Buckman?”

Frank shook his head. “Funny thing, though. No one’s seen Bill Knowles either. I checked around, discreetly. Even staked out both their places with some friends of mine in need of some cash. Mike’s apartment is vacant, and no one’s seen Bill or his truck around his place either. Both of them have disappeared.”

Noah’s lips thinned. “And so has Chloe. Shit.” He dropped his arm from Lara’s shoulders and nodded to her room.

They all entered and closed the door behind them.

“There’s one more thing.” Frank put his hand in his pocket and retrieved something he dropped into Noah’s palm. “I found these on the bed in your room when I went looking for Chloe this morning.”

In the center of Noah’s large hand lay a pair of rose-shaped earrings.

Lara’s stomach rebelled. Fear became a huge knot inside her. “The killer has Chloe.”

“We’ll find her.” Noah let out a deep breath. “Just keep quiet a minute. I need to see something.”

He closed his eyes as if going to sleep. But Noah never looked so intense while resting, not that she’d seen. She felt a heavy sense of psychic energy, and then Cecilia appeared in the far corner of her room.

“Holy shit,” Frank whispered. “Him too?”

She noticed a man, Finnegan Fury, she assumed, standing close behind Cecilia. He had his hand on her shoulder, a look of possession and warning on his face.

“Beware the jealous lover,” Cecilia whispered.

Did the damn woman say nothing else? “Michael Fury. We know it’s him. What we don’t know is where to find him.”

Finn frowned. “The woman. She’s there.”

“Where?” Frank asked and took a step back when Finn drew his pistol, pointed it to the right of Frank’s head, and fired.

Not a sound could be heard, but as Lara followed the trajectory of the bullet, an image took shape where it hit the wall. An old house, whitewashed with age. The black dormers on the upper windows looked worn, but the grounds had been maintained. A line of rose bushes, no longer in bloom but prickled with thorns, surrounded the perimeter of the house.

“I think I know that place,” Frank said as he gaped at Finn and Cecilia, the pair fading once again.

“Hurry, before it’s too late,” Cecilia cried. Then nothing.

The house wouldn’t leave her mind. And something clicked. “This town isn’t that big. I know every house around her, but not all the ones on the periphery of town. Except I know that one. I’ve only been there once, but those dormers and those roses—that’s Ida Knowles’s old place.”

Noah saw clouds over a large white house brimming with a dark energy. The multitude of roses surrounding the home bespoke of an avid gardener. In full bloom, the bloodred petals were a sight to behold. But it was the pall of death over the house that warned him to be wary.

He glanced up, and in the distance, a boom of thunder and crackle of lightning blazed. Storm clouds brewed, and he hurried up a small flight of steps onto the covered porch. A low hum, a familiar tune he’d heard once before, filled his mind. The soft creaks of a bed squeaking were followed by overloud drips, as if somewhere inside, a faucet leaked.

A figure breezed by him, a large man moving too quickly to be identified. Noah followed him up the stairs, past the second floor to the attic. Through the doorway, up wooden stairs into a room filled with candles. At least a hundred of them surrounded a dead woman draped in red satin. She had dark hair and earrings Noah would bet were shaped like roses.

In his hand, the man held a stained switchblade covered in blood.

“Useless whore. Not good enough for me. Never good enough. Not when you want him all the time.”

The woman stared sightlessly at the ceiling, her eyes missing from her head.

Not what he’d expected. That didn’t fit the killer’s current pattern.

“Time for you to go before Aunt Ida comes back. She doesn’t understand what I need.” He ended on a bitter note, “She never did.”

Noah tried like hell to see the man’s face. As much as he didn’t want to see himself as a murderer again, he knew for a fact he’d never done this. No portent of doom, this scene had happened not too long ago.

Piercing the truth and drawing on his need to protect Lara, he focused like his life depended on it. The fog slowly lifted…