Dead of Night

What she did, though, was lie there with her heart pounding and her mind racing. They’d found cloven footprints on the body. How was that possible? New Orleans was such a long way from Adamant.

“You already know about the satanic symbols in the farmhouse where Rachel’s body was found,” she said finally. “When you showed me the udjat, all that came back. We talked about it the other night.”

“I understand why seeing those symbols upset you,” he said. “But it doesn’t explain how you knew about the footprints.”

“After Rachel’s murder, there was a rumor in town that something had been found near her body. Something other than the symbols. Everyone assumed it had something to do with the footprints.”

“What footprints?”

“They were a local legend. The man who lived in the farmhouse supposedly awakened one night to find his field and yard covered with cloven footprints. They were even on his roof. Some believed that all the oil drilling in the area had somehow unleashed the devil. The marks became known as the devil’s footprints because no one could come up with a more plausible explanation. Every so often, usually after a violent death, someone in town claims to have seen them.” Sarah paused. “I asked if you’d found prints at the crime scene because it was an automatic response to the udjat. My memory was triggered and I remembered that old legend. But I never really expected that you would find any.”

“So those bruises on the body are just a coincidence?”

“Is it so surprising to find something like that in a case inundated with satanic symbolism?”

“Maybe not,” Sean said, after a moment. “Actually, that’s another reason I’m calling. There’s been a new development in the case. You may have already heard about it on the news.”

Sarah could tell from his voice that it was bad. “I’ve been avoiding the news. What is it?”

“We found another body.”

She stared at the spilled wine, watched in fascination as it dripped over the edge of the table onto the wood floor. Almost laughably symbolic. “Where?”

“A vacant apartment on North Rampart. Just a few blocks from you.”

No!

Sarah got up with the phone still to her ear. “Hold on a minute, Sean.”

Heart still thumping, she made another quick search of her house. She rechecked all the doors and windows as that inexplicable disquiet crept over her again.

“Sarah?”

She jumped at the sound of her name. She’d forgotten the phone was still to her ear. “Just a second.”

Crossing the room to the window, she stared out at the street. An unfamiliar car had been parked at the curb a few houses down when she got home earlier. It was still there, only now Sarah imagined she could see someone sitting behind the wheel. Watching her house.

She stepped back from the window.

Sean’s voice cut into the silence. “What the hell is going on?”

“Nothing. I just… I needed to check on something, that’s all.”

“Are you okay?”

She inhaled and exhaled slowly. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

His voice lowered. The tension was gone now, and all she heard was a hint of familiarity, a slight whisper of intimacy that rippled through her memories.

She closed her eyes. If she asked him to come over tonight, she knew what would happen. They both did. She was vulnerable and scared, and Sean was Sean.

The moment he walked through her door, she would be in his arms, tearing at his clothes like a wildcat. Stripping her own away without a moment’s hesitation or inhibition. Because in bed, with Sean, her defenses had a way of imploding.

But she wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t let herself be that weak. She’d played a lot of roles in her life, but the other woman was not one of them.

“Sarah.” He said her name softly.

“You’re married, Sean. Or have you forgotten?”

“I haven’t forgotten. But I think we need to talk about that, too.”

“No, we don’t. Not tonight.” Maybe not ever.

“Sarah, please.”

“Don’t come over, Sean. And don’t call here again. Go home to your wife and leave me alone.”

She hung up the phone before he could say anything else and tossed it aside. Collapsing back on the couch, she tried to relax, but it was a long time before she could get Sean’s voice out of her head. She almost expected him to show up at her door in spite of her warning, and when he didn’t, the loneliness of her silent house seemed more crushing than ever.

Finally, she began to drift, and she found herself sifting through memories she hadn’t thought of in years. Unexpectedly, she thought of the bells in the cottonwood trees at the farmhouse.

When the wind blew from a certain direction, the bells chimed over the graves, and Sarah remembered being both intrigued and repulsed by the sound. Ashe had told her once that when she heard the bells, it meant that death was coming.

“I thought bells tolled after someone died.”

He smiled. “Not these bells, Sarah.”

A few nights later, she’d been awakened by that same melodic tinkle. She’d gotten out of bed and gone over to her bedroom window to look out. When she slid the sash up, the sound grew louder, and she realized that Ashe had tied bells up in the tree outside her window.

Sarah could hear those bells now, only the tolling was very distant.

She opened her eyes and lay still for a moment. She wanted to believe it was nothing more than a manifestation of her memory, but she was fully alert now and she could still hear the bells. Faint, but not imagined.

Following the sound into her bedroom, she stood at the French doors that opened into her tiny courtyard, her heart beating hard and fast against her chest.

She wouldn’t go outside to investigate. Not now. Not in the dark. She didn’t have to. She recognized the sound and she knew what it meant.

Death was coming.

* * *

Sean dropped the phone back into his pocket, letting the call go to his voice mail the way he did all the other calls from Cat. He’d have to talk to her sooner or later, but after his earlier conversation with Sarah had ended so unpleasantly, he was in no mood for a confrontation with his wife. Besides, he already knew how the conversation would play out.

She’d demand to know where he was, and he’d get defensive and evasive, which would set her off even more. Then the tears would start, and she’d end up begging him to come home so they could talk things out, even though he’d made it clear the only reason he’d be returning to their apartment was to pick up the rest of his things. As far as he was concerned, the marriage was over. All he wanted was out.

Sean wasn’t proud of his behavior. Any decent man would tough it out and give the marriage and his wife a fair chance. But the outcome would be the same no matter how long he and Cat stayed together. It was never going to work for one simple reason—Sean wasn’t in love with her and probably never had been. And worse, he didn’t even like her very much these days.

How he’d let things get this far, he had no idea. Rushing into marriage so soon after his breakup with Sarah had been stupid and reckless, and she’d been right to call him on it. He had been looking for someone safe. Someone who could give him sanctuary from the horror show his job had become.

At the time, he’d thought that was Cat. Seeing her in the restaurant that day had been like a breath of fresh air. The way she looked at him, the way she smiled, made him forget for a moment how ugly his life had become.

And the physical attraction had been off the hook. Even in high school, Cat had been a knockout, but in her thirties now, she’d grown into a stunningly beautiful woman. A tall, graceful blonde whose unwavering attention during those first few months had been extremely flattering. Embarrassingly so, looking back.

She was as different from Sarah as night and day, and it had been easy for Sean to convince himself that she was the one. That she was so much better for him. He and Sarah fed off each other’s doom and gloom, and the angst had become exhausting.

It had gotten to the point where Sean had dreaded going home because he was afraid of what he might find.

But the problem was, Sarah was also the most fascinating woman he’d ever known. And she wasn’t as easy to get over as he’d hoped.

Outwardly, she was no match for Cat. Sarah’s beauty took time to sink in. You had to look past all the heavy eye makeup and outlandish hairstyles, and even then, you could never be certain whether the woman you found underneath the mask was the real thing or yet another intriguing facade.

Sean had latched onto Cat because Sarah overwhelmed him. More to the point, she scared the hell out of him.

Her sister’s murder had done something to her. She’d never been able to move on. It ate at her even after all these years, and nothing that came before or after was ever going to be as important to her, not even Sean. Fine. He could have lived with that, but the secrets she kept locked inside were a different story. They worried him, those secrets. They sometimes kept him awake at night.

He’d once naively thought that by solving Rachel’s murder he could somehow free Sarah of her demons. But the harder he looked and the deeper he dug, the darker his suspicions became until one day he’d stopped searching. Because he’d come to the very grim realization that the truth of what had happened that night in Adamant, Arkansas, might be a truth he didn’t want to face.

Those suspicions were what had driven him from Sarah. On some level, he’d been trying to protect them both. Cat had been just a convenient excuse.

So why the hell couldn’t he leave well enough alone? Sarah was out of his life now. If he still cared for her at all—and he did—he’d let this go and allow her to get on with her life the best way she knew how.

Let sleeping dogs lie, Danny would advise him.

But Sean had never been that great at taking advice.

He paid for his drink and left the bar on Decatur. The blast of cold air that blew off the river drew a deep shiver down his spine and he pulled his coat around him as he walked along the narrow streets like a weary soldier. It was after eleven and he was exhausted, but instead of heading back to his car, he crossed Jackson Square and turned up St. Peter, past St. Louis Cathedral and the Cabildo.

A trumpet player stood underneath the famous lamppost in Pirate’s Alley serenading a handful of tourists. The mournful song touched something deep inside Sean, and he found himself hurrying away from the melancholy wail toward the driving rock beat that throbbed from the bars and clubs on Bourbon Street.

For him, this was the heart of the Quarter. Here, time never mattered, because day or night, a party could be found somewhere, even in the middle of a hurricane. No other seven-block stretch in the world was more evocative of erotic indulgence than Bourbon Street.

Sean was always reminded of something he’d read in an Ian Fleming novel as a kid. He hadn’t understood the sentiment at the time, but now he often thought that the soul-erosion excess Fleming spoke of was the perfect way to describe Bourbon Street. Sean’s senses had been awakened to the decadence a long time ago, but instead of revolting, he found himself coming back night after night, especially on evenings like this when he could feel himself slipping into a strange restlessness.

He didn’t want to go home to Cat and he couldn’t go home to Sarah.

Disconnected from the music and crowds, he wandered the streets aimlessly, like a ghost drifting through a world in which he no longer belonged.

Solitude had never sat well with Sean. He wasn’t a man comfortable with his own thoughts. He needed something or someone to fill up the empty hours because soul-searching wasn’t his style. There were too many unanswered questions in his life. Too many loose ends.

Too many roads leading him back to a woman whose past frightened him almost as much as it intrigued him.

Chapter 14

January

Adamant, Arkansas

A cool breeze whispered through the sycamore tree outside Sarah’s window. From one of the branches, Ashe could see right into her room. He’d spent a lot of time in that tree. Especially after dark, when the risk of detection was slight. Her room faced the backyard, so the tree was only visible from the cottage. That could be a problem, but Ashe was always careful to come on moonless nights.

Besides, he’d always thought it was a risk worth taking. Although observing Sarah through the window wasn’t as satisfying—or as exciting—as the times he’d spent alone in her room, sifting through her things.

Those secret forays had taught him so much about her…the books she read, the music she listened to. He even knew her favorite movie, and as his eyes lifted to the poster above her bed, he wondered if she’d put it all together yet, if she realized the significance of the pale, familiar face that watched over her every night while she slept.

Overhead, dark clouds drifted across the winter sky, but through the occasional crack in the darkness, Ashe could see stars. He gazed at the pinpoints for a long time, mesmerized by the twinkling light. On a night like this, so dark he was like a shadow, his senses came fully awake and it was easy to ignore those persistent voices in his head that confused and infuriated him. He hated those voices because they took him away from his world and dumped him back into a place that for him had no meaning, no purpose. No Sarah.

He shifted his position, moving a little closer to the window, but still careful not to attract her attention. He never let her see him outside her window. For one thing, he didn’t want to frighten her, and for another, their twilight meetings at the farmhouse were much safer…for both of them.

Tonight he would make an exception, though. He would break his own rules because he had something very important to show her.

A thrill raced up his spine as he tried to anticipate her reaction, but he had no idea what it would be. Sarah was nothing if not unpredictable and that was one of the things he admired about her. Only one of the many things that kept him tied to her.