Killer's Prey Read online

  “I think she’s as tough as you are,” Jake said.

  The remark surprised Gage. For a moment he froze. Then he shook his head. “I spent a long time getting to sleep at night by tossing down a couple of whiskeys. I doubt that young woman is drinking anything stronger than lemonade.”

  “Not in that house.”

  “I don’t know how to figure Loftis in this. Does he care for his daughter? If so, how much?”

  “Nora seemed to think that he’s going to blame her for the attack, claiming she sinned by finding a normal life for herself.”

  Gage swore quietly. “Somebody tell me why men like that never meet an untimely end.”

  That almost surprised a laugh from Jake. He wasn’t used to hearing Gage talk that way.

  Suddenly Gage leaned forward. “Okay. I’m going to talk to my wife, Emma. I bet she can offer Nora a job at the library, doing something that won’t wear her out too much. Give her a little income. Maybe she can get out of that house then and she won’t be alone, at least at work. In the meantime, we get everyone to put eyes and ears on for strangers. Quietly. And hope to God we’re wasting our time.”

  Jake was far from a happy camper when he left a few minutes later, but he was glad that Gage was taking this so seriously. He sat outside in his car for a few minutes, trying to decide just how much of a threat there really was to Nora. This was damn near the back of beyond, hardly a blip on the map. Truckers came through here only because the state highway provided a shortcut to the interstate.

  But it was not totally off the radar. Who could guess how many people Nora might have mentioned her hometown to? Or what sort of information about her Cranston Langdon might be able to access?

  Nobody. The guy was clearly crazy. He had to have known that attacking his own wife was only going to deepen his troubles. Apparently he either didn’t care, or wasn’t capable of caring. Hell, if people feared consequences, there’d never be a murder.

  Sorely troubled, he sat a while longer, watching pedestrians stride along the sidewalks, everything looking so damn normal he couldn’t believe how much had changed by the insertion of one wounded woman into his life.

  Nothing looked the same anymore. Nothing. All because of Nora.

  And dammit, he had to do something more to keep an eye on her than rely on the loose cordon Gage was instituting. A whole lot more. But just what? How could he insert himself further into her life? She’d warmed to him a bit over the past twenty-four hours, but he doubted she wanted him camped on her doorstep.

  And then there was Fred Loftis. He’d have to find a way around that man or be forbidden to set foot on his property.

  He paused in midthought, as it struck him that he seemed like an odd choice for Fred to have sent after Nora. They weren’t friends. Far from it. Fred could have asked anyone from his church.

  So why the hell send the chief of police? The more Jake thought about it, the more disturbed he was by what had initially seemed to be nothing but a neighbor’s request.

  What the hell was Fred Loftis up to? Did he know something about that long-ago night and what Nora had done? What he had done? Had asking Jake been intended to cause more pain?

  Or was it Fred’s way of reminding his daughter that she was a sinner?

  Damn! He wanted to pound the steering wheel. He wished like hell he could read minds.

  But he couldn’t. And he was beginning to have a horrifying feeling that Nora might be tangled in more than one spider’s web.

  He had to figure out something. Anything. And soon.

  * * *

  Nora sent a few text messages to friends back in Minneapolis, assuring them she was okay but was careful to avoid telling them where she had gone. Denver was the closest she had come to telling them her plans when she left, but she imagined none of them suspected she was here. After all, she’d made no secret of where she had come from, and no secret of her problems with her father. She doubted any of them would think she had come home.

  She could hardly believe it herself. What was she doing here in this house, a house that still echoed with angry words spoken so long ago, when her father had insisted her mother had killed herself because Nora had gone away to college to live a sinful life? Him shouting those damning words, and her shouting back that if anything had made her mother suicidal, it had been life with a harsh, judgmental man who wouldn’t even allow her a single thought or act of her own.

  A man, she thought bitterly now, who had gotten a dishwasher when he no longer had a woman to clean up after him. A dishwasher! Her mother had asked for one once, when she often had tons of dishes to do after contributing to a church supper, when her hands had become arthritic and the job had begun to pain her, and the answer had been, “Idle hands...”

  Yeah, idle hands. Her mother’s hands had never been idle, even when they got so bad she could no longer do her crewelwork or her knitting. Nora had stepped in as much as possible with the chores, but the desire to escape that house had overwhelmed her, too. College had been her way out. There had been none for her mother.

  Maybe her father was right. Maybe her leaving had taken away her mother’s last support. Maybe she had left Gretchen Loftis feeling hopeless. Certainly, her mom had been left without anyone to buffer her against her dad.

  Nora, at least, had often provided him another object for his endless sermons and criticisms. With Nora gone, Gretchen must have born the full brunt.

  God! She couldn’t afford to think that way. She had to remind herself that when she announced she was leaving, her mother hadn’t offered a word of protest. Not one sound, unlike Fred, who had told her she was on the path to hell.

  No, Gretchen had helped her daughter pack. Had taken her to the bus station. What wrath that must have brought down on her head.

  Nora felt tears seeping out of her eyes but she didn’t wipe them away. Gretchen had wanted her daughter to escape. Of that she was certain. But whether that had anything to do with her mother’s final act of despair, there was no way to know.

  So maybe she was responsible, at least in part. But not fully. Never fully. Not with Fred Loftis in the picture.

  God, what was she doing here? Had she sunk so low she had to come back here? Couldn’t she find enough strength to stand on her own two feet?

  Escaping Minneapolis made sense, at least until that man was in prison. And yes, she was still very weak from her injuries and needed time yet to regain her strength. But surely she could have gone somewhere else.

  Agitated, she rose and walked through the house. No pictures of her or her mother remained. They had been erased as if they had never been. Even the wedding photo showing a young Gretchen and Fred had vanished.

  Why the hell had her father told her to come back here? Some vestige of genuine caring? Or just the sense that he had to do something that would look good to the people whose opinions he really cared about?

  She would never understand that man. Never understand how he could care so much about some things and so little about others. How he had become so hard and implacable.

  How had he become so righteous and wrathful and so lacking in compassion? Had he been raised that way? She would never know, as she knew nothing about him except what he showed her in any passing moment. If he had a past he never mentioned it. He might have sprung out of the ground as a fully formed adult for all she knew.

  She had to get out of here. A glance at the clock told her he would probably be coming home soon. He generally took an afternoon break then returned to the pharmacy as the evening business picked up and remained until closing.

  But where would she go?

  Anywhere. Anywhere at all.

  Once again grabbing her jacket and the key, she left the house. Walk slowly, she reminded herself. One easy step at a time or she wouldn’t get anywhere at all. There was the library, if she wanted relative quiet, or Maude’s if she wanted coffee.

  But there’d be too many people at Maude’s, even at this time of day.

 
; So, walking as slowly as an elderly lady, she set out for the library. She could hole up there at least until her dad went back for his evening shift. It was a much longer walk, but if she managed it, she’d have something to feel good about.

  And she desperately needed something to feel good about.

  Chapter 4

  Emmaline Dalton, known to everyone in the county as Miss Emma for reasons long since forgotten, was a beautiful woman in her early fifties. Nora had a soft spot for the town’s librarian mainly because Miss Emma had allowed her to hide out there for hours and read whatever she liked, while insisting to Fred Loftis that, of course, the girl was always doing her homework.

  Homework had been Nora’s excuse for coming to the library every single day until her father insisted she started working. And Miss Emma had given her a home away from home.

  Emma recognized her immediately and came out from behind the desk to hug her warmly. “It’s so good to see you again, Nora. I just wish the circumstances were better.”

  “I never intended to come back here,” Nora told her frankly, returning the hug. “Never.”

  “I can’t say I blame you. We’re quiet right now, so why don’t we share a cup of tea back in my office? There may be something I need to tell you.”

  That ratcheted up Nora’s anxiety, but only a bit. She didn’t fear Miss Emma the way she feared her father.

  Emma had an electric teakettle on her desk in the tiny office that seemed to be overflowing with both books and papers. “My aerie,” Emma said wryly. “Or, my pending work. We’re starting to collect a lot of letters and diaries from the families that have been around here for a long, long time, putting together a really detailed history of the county.”

  “That’s a super idea.”

  Emma smiled. “It will be when it’s done. For now it’s hanging over my head.”

  “I could help. In fact, I’d love to.”

  “There’s a lot to be done. We need to microfiche everything, and then I want as much of the database as possible on the computer so it’s searchable. Sometimes I think I could use a tech geek.”

  “I don’t know about the geek part, but I could help with the cataloging. As long as I don’t get lost in the stories.”

  Emma settled her in a padded chair then turned on the kettle. “Getting lost is easy. I wouldn’t have believed it possible, but I got lost in one woman’s diary. She was a ranch wife, and dutifully recorded something every day for five years. Guess what she mostly recorded?”

  “Family stuff?”

  Emma laughed. “The weather. Day in and out. Once in a while she’d mention her grown daughter had come to visit, or her grandson, but most of it was a careful record of the weather. I guess that tells you what was important in daily life.”

  “I guess so.” Nora paused. “Imagine it. I can’t actually. To record the weather every day and leave almost everything else out. Not the price of beef, not the number of cattle, or how many calves or...”

  “Exactly. That’s what surprised me. I assume that information was probably recorded in ledgers of some kind, but if so I haven’t found them yet. For her personal diary, though, it was all weather and an occasional visit. And she didn’t even detail the visits, just mentioned them.”

  “And she probably thought that everything else about her days was too mundane. How many loaves of bread she baked, how many loads of laundry, whatever. It was probably invisible to her.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.” The kettle whistled and Emma poured steaming water into two cups, where tea bags already waited. “I hope you like Earl Grey.”

  “Love it.”

  “I don’t have any milk, but I do have sugar if you want.”

  “Black is fine.”

  Emma brought out a small package of tiny doughnuts. “My sin. Don’t tell anyone. My boys would have fits if they knew I was eating them.”

  “Why?”

  Emma laughed again. “Because I make them eat healthy foods.”

  Nora giggled and felt her spirits lifting. The tea tasted especially good after the chilly walk, too.

  Emma leaned back, sipping from her teacup. “What I alluded to earlier. You need to know something about me, because I want you to know you can turn to me if you need to.”

  Nora tensed again. “Yes?”

  “The story had pretty much quieted down when you were very young, so you probably don’t know. I never finished college.”

  Nora was startled. “Really?”

  “Really. I couldn’t. I was attacked, much as you were, and left for dead in a Dumpster.”

  Nora clapped her hand to her mouth, closing her eyes, feeling black waves of horror pour through her, as Emma’s words reawakened her own memories. “Oh, my God,” she whispered.

  She felt a hand on her shoulder and realized that Emma had come around the desk. “Breathe,” Emma said gently. “Breathe, Nora.”

  It took a few minutes, but gradually the world swam back into focus. “Okay?” Emma asked.

  Nora managed a nod, and Emma returned around her desk. “The guy who came after me tried it a second time. Thank God for Gage.”

  Nora barely managed a whisper. “Again?”

  “Again,” Emma said. “In my case, it was apparently ritualistic. Regardless, I’m sure that won’t happen to you. I just want you know that if you need to turn to someone, I understand. Fully.”

  Nora supposed she would. Her hands were shaking, so she put down her tea. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t want to upset you, but sometimes we need someone to talk to who really understands what it’s like. I’m here, any hour of the day or night.”

  Nora felt a wave of warmth wash through her horror. “I’m afraid,” she admitted. “I’m afraid that he might come after me. He can’t, they’ve got him on one of those electronic bracelets, but I’m not going to feel safe until he’s in jail. That’s why I came home.”

  “I can certainly understand that,” Emma said gently. “It’s going to be a while before you start to feel safe again. I know that for a fact. But you will, eventually. I can promise you that.”

  Some of Nora’s tension eased, but she was looking at Miss Emma in an entirely different way than she had during all her years growing up. The woman who had always seemed so strong and kind had had her own demons and scars to deal with. Maybe she was still dealing with some of them.

  Nora spoke impulsively. “I want to grow up to be like you.”

  Emma smiled. “I think you’ve already grown up far more than that. So, you want to help with the cataloging? Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.” It would keep her out of that house, away from her father, at least during the library hours. It would give her something to focus on outside herself. “I need to be busy.”

  “Then I’m hiring you. I have a small budget for another assistant, but I haven’t had one in a while. Libraries aren’t as busy these days.” She rolled her eyes. “I can’t imagine why. Regardless, I’ll pay you for as much as you can work.”

  “I’d better warn you that I run out of steam quite a bit. It doesn’t last, but I’m still...recovering.”

  “That’s not a problem. At the rate this job is going, it may not get done for another generation. But it’s making me feel guilty to have folks donating so much stuff and not being able to keep up. You can have my office to work in, except for when I want tea.” Emma winked.

  Emma quickly explained where the already cataloged items were being placed, the spreadsheet on which the description of each item was being recorded and how the items were being numbered. Nora felt confident enough with this part of the task and was soon busy at it.

  She felt useful again, and what’s more, she felt safe here. Her mind didn’t wander down frightening paths, but instead took a trip into the pasts of others, most long gone, who had left their marks, big and small, on this county.

  All too soon, though, the afternoon waned, the early twilight arrived and Emma suggeste
d she call it quits for the night. Nora glanced at the big clock on the wall and realized it was nearly six. Her dad wouldn’t be home again until nine, so it was safe.

  “I’ll drive you,” Emma said. “Candy is taking over for the evening.”

  Nora had never met Candy, or at least couldn’t remember meeting her. She appeared to be about twenty or so, with an ear-to-ear grin and a smattering of freckles across her cheekbones and nose.

  “So you’re the new archivist,” Candy said. “I wouldn’t take on that job for anything.”

  Nora managed a smile. “I’m enjoying it.” And she was. It took her out of herself, and far away, a welcome change.

  But now it was time to go home. To a blessedly empty house. Empty enough that she’d probably start thinking again. She didn’t want to think about it yet, though. She’d deal with it in the silent house. Somehow, some way, she had to come to terms with what had happened, and she knew she couldn’t do that by avoiding it. She was enough of a counselor to know that.

  Still, those long hours loomed in front of her, and the tension she had managed to forget while she’d been going through papers in the library began to build anew as Emma drove her through the darkening streets.

  “Will you be okay?” Emma asked as they pulled up in front of the Loftis house.

  “I have to be.”

  Emma sighed and nodded. “I remember. Damn, I remember. Let me give you my cell number. Don’t hesitate to call me.”

  With Emma’s phone number tucked in her pocket, Nora walked up to the dark house. She should have left a light on, but she hadn’t expected to be out so long.

  Her hands shook a little as she inserted the key in the lock and her stomach began to flip-flop uncomfortably. At this point she didn’t know if it was the attack that was unnerving her, or being home again. It was all a mess. All of it.

  Once inside, she locked the door and switched on lights as fast as she could, checking each room as she went. Her fear inside was not as bad as it could get outside, because she hadn’t been taken from her home, but from her evening walk. Still...