Stealing Shadows Read online

  Then she got the box filled with her aunt’s papers and began trying to understand a life.

  “All right,” Larry Ramsay said as he escorted the girls into the mall. “We’re here.” He adopted the long-suffering tone common to put-upon males who would much rather be somewhere else, preferably tinkering with an engine.

  “I really appreciate this, Larry,” Sue said, not quite batting her eyes.

  “No problem,” he said politely.

  “It’s just that I really do need to check about that software program today so I’ll have the weekend to work on the project. So I’m really grateful.”

  Deanna stifled a giggle. Though Larry appeared oblivious—perhaps not unexpectedly since he was ten years older—it was no secret to Deanna that her best friend had a crush on her brother. She was mildly interested on most days but today had her mind most definitely on her own troubles.

  “It’s okay,” Larry said, only his sister hearing the touch of impatience in his voice. “Radio Shack is—”

  “Sue, didn’t you say you saw the program at that computer store at the other end of the mall?” Deanna asked quickly.

  “Oh, yeah—I did see it there,” Sue agreed obediently.

  “Then, let’s go.” Larry gestured for the girls to precede him but stuck close as they joined the other brave souls who had ventured out to the mall.

  Deanna glanced surreptitiously at her watch. Three-thirty. She still had a few minutes. She hoped the computer store was as crowded as it usually was. It would be much easier for her to slip away for a few minutes if that was the case. Even though Larry tended to get absorbed in computer stuff, and even though Sue had promised to ask his advice about that program she was considering, Deanna knew her absence would be much less likely to be noticed if the store was busy.

  And there was that little alcove between the store and one of the exits, which was perfect.

  Just perfect.

  Hannah Payne knew it probably wasn’t smart to go to the mall by herself after promising Joe she wouldn’t stir outside the house alone, and it took her some time to talk herself into it. But in the end, boredom and necessity won out over caution. Since he hadn’t gotten to bed until after their morning trip to the grocery store, Joe would sleep until nearly suppertime; Hannah was expecting a long and dreary afternoon to stretch out before her.

  Besides, the worries and what-ifs that were frightening in the wee hours of the night, when a body was alone in the house and jumping at shadows, looked absurd in the bright light of day with the world awake and going about its business as usual.

  And, anyway, when they were out earlier, she’d forgotten she needed to pick up some material she’d ordered from the fabric store at the mall.

  Hannah was a seamstress, talented enough to make a nice living at it, and she had lately tried her hand at designing a few outfits for one of the stores in town. The interest in her work was promising, and she wanted to get a few more things made as quickly as possible. So she needed that material.

  She probably should have taken Beason with her, but the dog was an uneasy traveler and prone to bark constantly if left in the car by himself, so she went alone. She left Joe a note explaining where she was going just in case he woke up while she was gone, and she locked the car doors and kept an alert eye out for strangers.

  But she encountered no strangers and nothing suspicious, arriving at the mall without incident.

  It was just past three-thirty when she parked her car as close as possible to the main entrance and went in.

  Canned music blared from the speakers, seemingly louder than usual because the crowds were thinner and quieter than usual. And everybody was visibly nervous.

  The sight amused him. The shoppers spoke to one another warily if at all, their gazes suspicious. Children were kept close to their mothers’ sides, and it was plainly apparent that both more husbands and fewer teenagers were present at the mall than was usual on a Friday afternoon. But she was here.

  And that was all that really mattered.

  Ben drove his Jeep out to Cassie’s place, while Matt arrived separately in his cruiser. The sheriff had not blinked when Ben made the suggestion, and he had not protested; Ben had an uneasy feeling that his own voice had been a bit forceful, perhaps even defiant. And that Matt understood all too well where Ben’s motives lay.

  It was a hell of a thing when a man with walls so thick that a psychic couldn’t see past them still managed to wear his hopes on his sleeve.

  Hopes he didn’t want to think too much about. He was beginning to think he was obsessed with Cassie, and that bothered him a great deal. He had always been able to take relationships lightly, be casual about a physical need that had never really touched his emotions, but it was different with Cassie. The physical need was there, certainly, but it was more than matched by a riot of emotions he hardly knew how to deal with.

  It was simpler to just try to ignore them, at least for the present.

  Cassie greeted them at the front door, the alert dog as usual at her side. She was smiling faintly and her voice was calm, but Ben knew immediately that she was even further away from him than she had been before they’d talked that morning. She was shut inside herself, remote, and when her gaze rested on him briefly, he didn’t feel a warm hand—or even a cool one.

  Second thoughts? Or something else?

  With Matt close behind him as they went into the living room, Ben could hardly ask. Instead, looking at the neat stacks of papers on the coffee table and remembering what she had said about her plans to go through her aunt’s papers, he said, “You’ve been busy.”

  Cassie gave the dog a soft command to lie down, and he did on what was obviously his rug near the fireplace. If she was aware of tension in Ben’s voice, it wasn’t apparent in her own serene reply. “I thought it was time to get this done. I even started reading one of Aunt Alex’s journals.”

  “Did she say why she scared the hell out of Abby?” Matt demanded.

  Cassie looked at him. “So she told you.”

  “Yes, she told me.”

  “And?”

  “And what? Do I believe your aunt saw the future? No, I don’t. Do I believe Abby could be in danger? Yes, I do. Aside from this maniac we have running around, Gary Montgomery is a sadistic son of a bitch who’s convinced Abby belongs to him and who is entirely likely to commit a violent act against her if he gets the chance.”

  Ben glanced at him but didn’t comment.

  Cassie said, “I’m glad she told you. As for Aunt Alex—so far I haven’t even reached her move out here. The first journal starts more than thirty years ago.”

  “Skip ahead,” Matt advised.

  “Sorry, I’m one of those people who finds it physically impossible to skip ahead when reading a story. And this is quite a story.” She shook her head. “In any case, I doubt she’ll explain in her journal why she told Abby what she did. She just wanted to warn her, Matt, that’s all. Because she thought Abby could do something to change her own future if she knew what to expect.”

  There was a grim set to Matt’s jaw. “Maybe.”

  Cassie looked at him a moment. “The coffee’s hot, if either of you—?”

  Matt shook his head and Ben said no thanks.

  “All right. Then why don’t I try again to reach the killer.”

  It wasn’t a question, but Ben felt a strong urge to protest. He didn’t like Cassie’s remoteness, and he didn’t like the fact that too many people in the town suspected that Alexandra Melton’s niece was involved in the investigation.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea,” he said.

  Cassie gestured for them to sit, taking for herself a chair at right angles to the sofa. “Why not?” she asked mildly.

  Ben glanced at Matt, then sat at the end of the sofa nearest Cassie while the sheriff took the other chair. “Because people are beginning to talk, Cassie. And they know your name.”

  She didn’t change expression. “Well, we expected that
. All the more reason for me to try again. If he doesn’t already know about me, he will soon.”

  It was Matt who said, “And when he does know about you? Will he be able to—to block you when you try to contact him?”

  Cassie shrugged. “I don’t know. There have been a few in the past who were able to sense it when I tried to touch their minds, and one or two were able to block me at least partially. If he finds out about me, he could try that—although keeping those blocks in place continually will be all but impossible. Sooner or later I’ll be able to get in.”

  “And then?” Ben was gazing at her steadily. “He’ll be able to follow the trail back to you, won’t he? He’ll be able to reach into your mind.”

  “Maybe. But even if he can do that, he doesn’t kill with his mind.”

  “Are you sure of that?” Ben demanded.

  Cassie returned his stare for a moment, then looked at Matt. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but so far you have no evidence pointing to the identity of the killer.”

  “You’re not wrong,” Matt said.

  “And I assume you’re not willing to bet the lives of your fellow citizens on the hope that the killer has decided to abandon this nasty little habit of his?”

  “My mama might have raised a stubborn man, but she didn’t raise a fool.”

  “Then I say the risk is an acceptable one.”

  “Cassie—” Ben started to protest.

  “And it’s my risk.” She looked steadily at him. “In ten years of working with the police, the only killer ever to backtrack and identify me telepathically was the man who killed my mother. He’s dead.”

  “But he came after you.”

  “Physically. Just as this one might whenever he finds out who I am. That threat exists no matter what I do, especially if people in town are beginning to talk about me. So I’d just as soon try to figure out who he is before he has time to come looking for me.”

  Put that way, Ben could hardly object. But he was still uneasy, more so with every passing minute.

  Taking his silence for assent, Cassie sat back in her chair, getting comfortable. She closed her eyes. “It shouldn’t take nearly as long to reach him this time. I know the way now….” Her voice faded on the last words.

  Ben allowed several beats of silence to pass, watching that still, pale face. All it took to alert him was a flicker behind her eyelids. “Cassie? Tell me what you see.”

  A slight frown drew her brows together and her lips parted on an indrawn breath. “He’s… walking. There are people all around him.”

  “Where is he, Cassie?”

  “Stores. A fountain.”

  “Jesus,” Matt said. “The mall.”

  “Cassie? What is he doing? Is he just shopping, is that why he’s there? Or—”

  “He has a hand in his pocket. He’s… fingering the garrote. He’s looking for her.”

  Matt was about to reach for his walkie-talkie but froze suddenly, his gaze riveted to Cassie’s face. “Jesus,” he repeated, softly this time.

  Her eyes were open. She stared straight ahead, unblinking, blind to everything except the telepathic view from a killer’s eyes. And her pupils were dilated, so enormous that only a thin ring of pale gray showed around them, like ice rimming two holes into nothing.

  Ben felt a jolt of pure fear. At that moment he believed as he never had before that Cassie was no longer in the room. She was somewhere else, and where she was was dark and cold and crazy.

  And only the thinnest and most fragile of ties kept her anchored to the body awaiting her return.

  Abby glanced at her watch and, seeing that it was nearly four, quickened her pace. Shopping was taking longer than she had expected. Poor Bryce was waiting in the car, no doubt impatiently, and though the rawhide chew toys she had bought him would atone for temporary abandonment, she didn’t want to stay away any longer.

  Besides, it would be dark soon, and even with the powerful lights in the parking lot, she did not want to walk out there after darkness fell.

  Just one more quick stop, and then she could go….

  • • •

  Max got up from the rug near the fire where he’d quietly lain all this time and came to sit near Cassie’s chair. His eyes were fixed on her, and he whined softly. Every inch of his body spoke of tension and worry.

  “Cassie?” Ben’s voice was hoarse, and he cleared his throat. “Cassie? Talk to me. Where are you?”

  Her head moved very slightly, as if in response to his voice, but she never blinked or showed any expression, and her voice remained flat and totally without emotion. “I’m in him. He’s… excited. His heart is pounding. There’s so much danger, taking her here. But he likes that. He likes the challenge. The anticipation.”

  Matt hesitated, one hand on his walkie-talkie. “Ben. I need a description,” he said softly. “If I send my people in there in force, we’ll cause a panic. He’ll be able to disappear in the mess.”

  Ben nodded. “Cassie? Is he looking toward any of the stores? Is there a reflection?”

  Her brows drew together again, but those wide, empty eyes never changed. “Just… glimpses. Distorted. I think he has on… a blue jacket. Like a… team jacket. There’s a white letter, I think. Maybe an R.”

  Ben glanced at Matt, reading the sheriff’s dismay even as he felt his own. The largest and oldest of the three county high schools boasted blue team jackets with white lettering, and they were so commonly seen in the area, it was something of a joke. Hundreds of male students, past and present, wore the damned things.

  Ben had one himself, packed away in a trunk out at the old house.

  “Cassie, can you see anything else? What color is his hair?”

  “He’s wearing a hat. I think. A… baseball cap.” Yet another common sight in the area. Ben wanted to swear violently but forced himself to stay steady. He didn’t like the growing pallor of Cassie’s face or her utter stillness, sensing more than seeing that she was losing strength with every minute that passed.

  “We need to know what he looks like, Cassie. Can you help us know that?”

  She was silent for a moment. “I don’t think—He isn’t looking at the stores any longer. Just straight ahead, because… Oh. He’s getting more excited. It’s filling his mind, all his plans for her. He… has a safe place he can take her, so nobody will… will hear her, and it’s all ready for them. He wants to make her strip for him first, so he can watch. And then—”

  “Cassie. Who is he thinking about? Who is she?”

  “The bitch.”

  “What’s her name, Cassie?”

  “Bitches don’t have names.” That assertion was particularly chilling delivered in her soft, toneless voice. But not nearly as chilling as her next words. “Bitches are only good for fucking. And for killing.”

  “Cassie—”

  “Especially for killing. I like to see them bleed.”

  “It’s nearly four,” Sue hissed to her best friend. “If you’re going to do something, do it now.”

  “You just hold Larry’s attention for a few minutes,” Deanna murmured in response, and wandered one row over to gaze at a fine display of modems.

  Obedient, Sue carried the computer program she was considering over to where Larry stood near the door. Within five minutes he was returning to the software display with her, shaking his head at her ignorance.

  Giggling, Deanna slipped out of the store.

  • • •

  “Cassie, listen to me. Are you listening? Pull back. Pull back, Cassie.” It was not something she had warned him about, but Ben knew instinctively that if her voice had merged with the killer’s until they spoke as one, then she was definitely in too deep.

  “You could never become a monster.”

  “I could lose myself in one. What would be the difference?”

  Jesus Christ.

  “I like to see them—”

  “Cassie. Pull back. Do it. Now!”

  There was an instant of silence, and
then she said, “All right. He’s… still walking. But faster now. I think… he knows where she is.”

  Ben was only vaguely aware of Matt on his walkie-talkie, sending his officers to every exit of the mall. All his concentration was focused on Cassie. He had the terrifying notion that if he so much as looked away from her, he would lose her forever.

  “Cassie? Where is he now? Can you tell us?”

  “He… just passed the food court.”

  “Going which way?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Cassie?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never been there before.” Exhaustion was beginning to drag at every word.

  Ben kept his voice calm. “Try to see the name of one of the stores, Cassie. Can you see?”

  “There’s a… shoe store beside… a music store. And across is a… bookstore.”

  “Matt, he’s heading toward the north end,” Ben said to the sheriff without taking his eyes from her. “Cassie?”

  “I’m still here,” she said distantly. “His feet are hurting. His boots are too tight. Isn’t that funny?”

  “Cassie, is he watching anyone?”

  “No. She’s… he knows where she’ll be.”

  “Is he thinking about it? Where she’ll be?”

  “No, he’s just—” Cassie’s voice broke off abruptly. She didn’t even seem to be breathing. Then her eyes closed, her head jerked as though she’d been slapped, and a cry of pain escaped her.

  FOURTEEN

  Hannah Payne glanced at her watch and swore beneath her breath when she saw it was almost four o’clock. She’d tried to hurry, but Connie would insist on talking to her in detail about every piece of material as she cut it.

  And now just look at the time! If she didn’t get a move on, there was no way she’d have time to get Joe’s supper fixed and on the table by the time he woke up.

  Her arms full of material and mind filled with the pros and cons of various excuses, Hannah took her usual shortcut past several boarded-up stores currently being remodeled and headed for one of the lesser-used exits that only a former employee of one of the stores in the mall would know about.