BIG SKY SECRETS 03: End Game Page 14

  He stared at her. “You really don’t understand how serious this is. I don’t care if you’re armed to the teeth—it would take just a single bullet for you to die. You aren’t safe here. You don’t need to take that kind of risk.”

  Spoken just like her last boyfriend, who’d ordered her to give up her job and her independence, and play it safe with some ordinary job in town.

  Her old hurt and frustration resurfaced. She’d thought Scott was different, that he’d understand her life. But instead, he knew the dangers all too well, and now she knew that he’d never be able to stand by and let her face them.

  Once again she’d started to care too deeply about someone, and she’d been wrong.

  “I know you don’t want to be a cop any longer. If you can’t handle it anymore, that’s okay. But this is my life, and I can. I need to do my job. End of story.”

  He pulled back as if she’d struck him. “I didn’t mean to interfere.” He hesitated, then shook his head with obvious regret as he got back into his truck. “Have it your way. But don’t hesitate to call me if you ever need help.”

  His words sounded so final that she knew he wouldn’t be back, even if she did try to make that call. She watched him drive away, feeling a cold, unfamiliar knot build in her stomach.

  Most men assumed she was eminently capable of taking care of herself. But Scott was a guardian at heart—whether he’d left his old career behind or not—and he’d been trying his best to protect her.

  Unfortunately, he was right.

  Dusk was settling in, turning the landscape to shades of indigo, violet and ash. In another hour it would be black as pitch. Anyone could creep up in the dark and start firing….

  And the house would be a much easier target than some lone gunman slipping through the trees.

  SIXTEEN

  After a sleepless night of pacing, and startling at every rustle of leaves outside, Megan took a quick shower, dressed and took Buddy out to her patrol car. “You’re coming with me today. No sense taking any chances.”

  She looked over the open car door at the house she’d loved from the first moment she saw it, wondering if she’d ever feel truly safe there again.

  Today she’d make some phone calls about security systems, but she had no misconceptions about that being a fail-safe plan. As Scott had said, a gunman could shoot the place to pieces, shattering windows and doors. A hail of random bullets could take down someone inside.

  Or the guy could gain access himself, day or night, catch her unaware and be gone before the alarm system ever brought lights and sirens to her door. How long could she go on, trying to sleep with a loaded gun under her pillow and her ears attuned to every sound?

  Buddy curled up on the passenger side of the front seat, his eyes fixed on her profile as if he, too, was wary of unknown dangers that might take away his safe world in a heartbeat.

  She reached over to stroke his soft ears as she headed down the highway to Copper Cliff. “We’ll be fine, Buddy. You’ll see.” But fine was a relative thing, and her conversation with Scott last night now started playing through her thoughts for the hundredth time. He had that innate need to protect, but as a deputy she did, too. With such similarities, how had things gone so suddenly wrong? Maybe if they could just talk it through…

  Two miles out of town her cell rang. Her heart rose on a burst of joy and she grabbed the phone from her pocket without glancing at the screen. “Scott. Everything was fine at the house last night.”

  “Really. How very nice to hear.”

  She froze at the all-too-familiar, sinuous voice. “Who is this?”

  “Sweetheart, I thought you’d guess by now. So sad…when I’ve shared clues with you, just to see if you were worthy.” His voice rang with arrogance and smug pride. “But you’re not.”

  “What clues? A couple of notes?” She fought to keep her voice calm as she struggled to identify the muffled voice. She knew it. She’d heard it before—but where? She scrambled for something to ask, anything to keep him talking. “I…I’m curious. Why did you choose me? Why not one of the other deputies? Or the sheriff himself?”

  Buddy whined and edged closer to rest his head on her lap as if he sensed her tension.

  “You see, that was your first clue, the best one of all. You disappoint me, Megan.”

  Megan.

  It was the odd, soft way he said it. A stray wisp of memory floated out of the past, then slipped just out of reach. She knew him somehow. Even with the muffling of that voice, she knew him.

  “I was going to wait. My timetable, you know. I rather enjoyed seeing you people trying to figure it out. But now I’m bored and I think I’ll up the stakes.”

  “Stakes? I don’t understand. Tell me what you mean.”

  “I think it might be you who’s next. Maybe one of those good friends of yours. Who are they? Let’s see…Erin and Kris come to mind.”

  Her heartbeat tripled, making her suddenly feel faint. “There’s no reason to harm anyone. Not anymore.”

  “Actually, there is.”

  “Look—you’ve fooled us all. You were smarter than everyone, so you’re still free. If…if you just stop now, no one will ever catch you. Wouldn’t that be the best thing? To never face Montana’s death penalty?”

  “I’m not concerned about that.” His voice grew harsh. “But you could stop it, you know. It was always all about you.”

  She blinked, her blood turning to ice at the implication. “I…I don’t understand.”

  “You will. I’ll call again soon. Maybe tonight, maybe next week. When you’re alone, like you are right now. What is it like, Megan, to feel fear taking over your heart? To not know what will happen next?”

  The connection went dead.

  She slammed on the brakes and twisted in her seat to look back. The highway behind her was empty. So how did he know she was alone?

  Had he been back at the house, watching her leave?

  Or had he tailed her, then slipped off into a side road before she’d notice?

  With trembling fingers she speed-dialed Erin, then Kris, to warn them, urging them to either stay behind locked doors or leave town until they heard from her again.

  Kris had her animal rescue shelter to run. Erin said she couldn’t possibly leave her store at the start of tourist season. But though both promised to be careful, Megan’s heart filled with dread. Please, God—watch over my friends. Keep them in Your safe and loving care. And please, please let me find that killer first, before it’s too late.

  At the sheriff’s office Megan strode past Betty’s desk without stopping and went straight to Hal’s office with Buddy close at her heels.

  The door was locked.

  She wheeled back and stopped at the startled secretary’s desk. “Where is he? Is he in there?”

  “Gracious! He’s out working Jim’s shift today, dear. He’s been gone for a good hour or more.”

  “I need to talk to him.”

  “You can use the radio…but if this is something important, you’d better call his cell.”

  Megan headed for the deputy’s office and shut the door behind her. Hal answered after a couple rings.

  “Megan—good. This saves me a call later. We got a report from someone up here near Fuller Peak, so Ewan and I went. Carl Wilson has been found.”

  She closed her eyes and said a swift, silent prayer. “Is he dead?”

  “Would’ve been, if some hikers hadn’t found him when they did. He just had a thin shirt and those cotton hospital pants on. He looks dehydrated and he’s delirious. With these cold nights up here and the fever he’s got, he probably has pneumonia on top of everything else.”

  “He couldn’t have gotten up there on his own. No way.”

  “Someone saw a dark-colored truck go up the fire road over the weekend—but they don’t remember which day. It looks like Wilson was dumped up here and left to die. It’s an absolute miracle that he was found.”

  “Is he talking at all?”
>
  “Yeah, but he’s not making any sense. The EMTs think he’ll come around once they get the IV started so they can get him rehydrated.”

  Please, God, let that be true. “So he might be able to identify the man he saw on the highway.”

  “We can hope. But with all he’s been through, I just don’t know…or if his testimony would even hold up in court, if it comes to that.”

  “I’ve got other news you need to hear. I’ve heard from that caller again. He says he’s going to ‘move up his schedule,’ and he named his potential targets. Erin Cole in Lost Falls. Kris Donaldson in Battle Creek. Or me.”

  Hal didn’t speak for a minute. “Those other two women are in Latimer County. His targets have only been here. Maybe this one isn’t really our man.”

  “It is,” she said flatly. “I have no doubt. It’s the same voice. The women he named are childhood friends of mine.”

  “How would he know that?”

  “We’re all still close. He could’ve seen us together. Or…” A face from the past materialized in her thoughts. A faint memory of an encounter on the Main Street of Lost Falls. And suddenly she knew that face, though the name still escaped her. “I’ll call you back. I need to go home and get something—something important.”

  “Wait—”

  “I have an idea, but I need to see something first. If I’m right, we might be able to get this guy off the streets before it’s too late for anyone else.”

  The drive home usually took twenty minutes, but now she floored the accelerator on the straight, empty stretch of highway.

  The caller had sounded vaguely familiar, his voice muffled and roughened with age. And then there’d been that man at church—the one who’d brushed past her. She’d caught just a brief glimpse of him, and again, there’d been something oddly familiar—like seeing a face through the other side of a tropical fish tank, the water blurring the lines and planes until the similarity between image and reality was too vague to judge.

  But there’d been yet another encounter, and now all the pieces were starting to come together. If she was right, the results were chilling.

  The Full Moon Killer had been at the Halfway House Tavern the night she was there. He’d been in Lost Falls all the time she’d been there as a child. And his vendetta went back that far, too.

  Just what kind of man had he become? A ruthless killer—or someone too sick to even comprehend or care about what he was doing?

  She lifted her mike. Debated about calling backup, then changed her mind. Everyone else was stretched to the limit with overtime, barely able to cover the county as it was.

  It was broad daylight, and the caller had taunted her about calling back another time.

  So surely he wasn’t waiting at her cabin now.

  At home she sat in her patrol for several minutes, watching the house and surrounding terrain before unlocking the safety on her Glock.

  Buddy bounded out of the car when she stepped outside and ran ahead of her to the yard gate, his tail wagging. When she opened the gate, he raced around the corner to the back of the house, where she heard the familiar slap of the pet door opening and shutting.

  In a flash, she saw him at a front window, his paws on the sill and his nose pressed to the glass while he waited for her to come in. “That’s sure a good sign,” she said aloud as she unlocked the front door and walked inside. “Am I ever thankful for you.”

  Still, she took care to lock the door behind her, and she took note of everything in the room before going any farther. It was all untouched, as far as she could tell.

  Buddy joyously nuzzled her hand, then jumped up on his favorite end of the sofa, circled twice and flopped down, though he still watched her intently as she crossed the room to the spare bedroom.

  The closet was crammed nearly to the ceiling with boxes she’d never bothered to unpack. Holstering her gun, she started lifting them out one by one, reading labels and setting them aside. Her impatience grew, along with her worry. Hadn’t she kept that single box of mementoes from childhood and high school? Had it been lost during one of her many moves from one apartment to the next?

  She checked each of them again. Searched under the bed. Then went to her bedroom and checked that closet, as well. No dice.

  Closing her eyes, she thought back through the years. Then she speed-dialed Erin and prayed that her old friend had been more sentimental about the past.

  “Megan?” Erin sounded breathless. “Is everything all right? Did you catch that guy?”

  “No…not yet. But I need a favor. Do you still have your old high school yearbook?”

  “My yearbook?”

  “I can’t find mine. I need some pages, as fast as I can get them. It’s important.”

  “Goodness. I’m sure I have it somewhere…maybe in the attic. Can I look for it tomorrow? We were just going out, and—”

  “If you’ve got it, I need it now. If you don’t, I’ll call Kris.”

  “Kris? You’re kidding. I doubt she even bought one, with the way she had to move around so much in high school, poor thing.”

  “This is important, Erin.”

  Erin grew quiet. “Is this about your call earlier? About that man who’s making those threats?”

  “It is.”

  “Give me ten minutes. I’m going up to the attic right now. If it isn’t there, it could be in some boxes I put in the storeroom over at the store. I won’t leave home until I find it, I promise.”

  “When you do, I need you to copy and fax every page of the sophomore through senior pictures. You have that capability there at the store, right?”

  “Sure do.”

  “Send it here—to my fax at home.” Megan rattled off the number, then paced through the house waiting for the fax to ring.

  Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen.

  Buddy jumped off the couch and followed her, then stopped at the front door and whined, clawing at the door. “You’ve got your own door, Buddy. Go ahead.”

  He whined louder.

  She moved to a window and pulled the curtain back a few inches to survey the yard. “There’s nothing out there. Do you smell a rabbit or something?”

  The first bullet smashed through the window in front of her and sent searing pain through her right hand, spattering her shirt with blood. The second broke the neighboring window and whistled past her ear, sending glass shards slicing across her cheek. Crying out, she stumbled backward, trying to staunch the heavy flow of blood from her shattered hand with the hem of her shirt.

  Buddy yelped and ran for the kitchen, his tail between his legs. She spun around and followed, putting another wall between her and the shooter, then grabbed for the phone above the counter.

  The line was dead.

  With her good hand she rummaged in a drawer for a kitchen towel and then wrapped it tightly around the wound. She tried to tighten her fist. Pain rocketed up her arm, sending dark spots in front of her eyes. He’d gotten her gun hand—possibly shattered bone. There was no way she could grip her weapon and shoot with accuracy. Left-handed, she’d never been able to do better than seventy percent accuracy on the range.

  She searched her empty pockets for her cell. Where was it? She’d paced all through the house in her impatience. She’d had it her hand…

  Another living room window exploded, followed by the lamp next to the sofa. Crouching low, she edged to the corner of the kitchen door. The ruby gleam of her cell phone taunted her from over by the front entrance. Too far. Too much risk. Yet if she didn’t call for backup…

  She turned, gauging the distance to the door. If she could make it across the yard and vault over the fence, then she could reach the surrounding forest. There were deer trails back there, some that ran close to the highway.

  From outside she heard a twig snap, then another, coming around the side of the cabin. Too late.

  Once again, a series of bullets shattered glass, this time at the back door and kitchen windows.

  “Come on, Buddy.
Where are you?” She scanned the room for the terrified dog. He’d disappeared, but with luck he’d sense her departure and run after her.

  Another window shattered, this time by the kitchen table.

  A prayer on her lips, she crouched low and ran for the front door, reached up to twist the dead bolt and glanced outside, then grabbed her cell phone from the floor and raced for the open front gate and her patrol car. Fifteen feet to go. Ten—

  In front of her, the driver’s side window shattered into tiny prisms of safety glass that bloomed inward like crystalline fabric with one perfect, round, nine-millimeter hole in the center.

  “I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere just yet, Megan.”

  The voice was clear now, unfiltered by whatever he’d put over his phone receiver in the past. She turned slowly and looked into his almost familiar face.

  A face that had aged; one that had been repaired and remolded over the years after the meth-lab explosion when he was just a teen. But it was still a face she’d sworn she’d never forget. “Rex.”

  Rex Nelson. Son of the former sheriff.

  “Move nice and slow. Release the buckle of your service belt. Let it fall. Touch that weapon and I’ll blow you apart.”

  She fumbled with the buckle, feigning a concerted effort.

  “Now, or you lose a knee.” He watched with intense fascination as her service belt hit the ground, and with it, her gun. “I’ve waited so long for this. I thought about it for years, behind bars. When I found out you were a deputy, I couldn’t believe my luck. It’s been fun, putting you to the test.”

  “Test?” Horrified, she stared at him. Had those other deaths been part of a plan that he’d been mounting against her?

  “At first I just wanted to make you look stupid—for you to publicly fail. To lose your reputation and career.” He fluttered his hand dismissively. “Perfect justice for what happened to my father. But obviously that didn’t work, so now we need to move to Step Two.”