Chapter 6
6
R ain was everywhere, seeping through the walls, coming up through the floors. The roof was melting, the colors of the furniture bleeding one into the other in a tie-dyed nightmare. The ground beneath her feet began to give, and Ginny felt herself sinking. At first it was only a frustration, getting mud on her shoes, but it soon changed to terror as she struggled futilely to hang on to solid ground. Thunder suddenly sounded, rolling throughout the heavens above her head and sapping her strength until she was too weak to move. Out of nowhere, water rose to her knees, then soaked the front of her shirt. Clawing at a steadily dissolving shoreline, she began to cry. When the water lapped at her chin, then at the edge of her mouth, she threw her head back and screamed .
“ Help me, please help me. Don’t let me drown. Don’t let me die .”
Ginny woke on a gasp and sat straight up in bed. The bedclothes were tangled about her legs, and in spite of the air-conditioning, her hair was sweat-streaked and stuck to the back of her neck. Still shaking, she sat up on the side of the bed, then leaned her elbows on her knees and covered her face with her hands.
A dream. It was just a stupid dream.
When she’d gained some equilibrium, she stumbled to the bathroom, splashing her face and neck with tepid water before scrubbing herself dry. Unwilling to go back to bed with that memory so fresh in her mind, she turned the light on in the kitchen and made coffee instead. As she did, the two unwashed bowls from last night’s late supper reminded her that she was no longer alone. The knowledge sat lightly on her heart as the dark, fragrant brew began to drip from the maker into the glass beaker below. After pouring herself a cup, she slipped on her sneakers and then unlocked her front door. Curious as to what kind of a day it would be, she stepped outside and inhaled. The sky was clearing, although a scattering of gray, wispy clouds still littered the morning sky. Behind them, the first gray fingers of dawn were tearing at the blanket of night, making way for the sunshine to follow.
Ginny took a careful sip of the coffee, relishing the warmth and the kick of caffeine as it slid down her throat. After careful inspection of the rickety stoop, she settled down on the top step to finish her coffee. Only then did she realize that Sullivan Dean had parked his car behind hers. She glanced over at his cabin but saw no evidence of his presence. Probably still asleep.
A slight wind ruffled through her hair, drying the lingering dampness. She lifted her face, studying the sky. It seemed to be clearing. That was good. No more storms. No more rain.
Storms gave her such an unsettled feeling, and things were already unsettled enough. As she sat, she became aware of the faint sounds of a radio and decided that the manager’s alarm had probably gone off. When the sounds suddenly disappeared, she grinned and took another sip of coffee. Sounded like her theory was right. He hadn’t wanted to awaken any more abruptly than she had.
A bird called from a nearby tree, and another answered from somewhere behind her cabin. Curious, she set down her cup and then strolled around the corner and walked a short distance behind the cabin to peer up through the limbs. As she did, she became aware of another sound. One that was more ominous. More threatening. The sound of rushing water.
The river! Of course. After all the rain they’d been having, it must be rolling at the banks. With the thought came the memory of another flood-swollen river and the image of Georgia falling through space, her habit billowing behind her like outspread wings.
She turned away, her joy in the morning over, and as she did, heard the sound of an approaching vehicle. Although she felt reasonably safe, she couldn’t help remembering that Sullivan Dean had found her, and if he could, then so could anyone else. And, with no face to put to the danger she was in, Ginny bolted toward her cabin.
She emerged from between the cabins just as a oneton dually pulled up at the manager’s office. The truck bed was full of fishing equipment, which fell with a clatter as the driver hit the brakes. As Ginny watched, three men spilled out of the cab, laughing and talking loudly. One of them tossed an empty beer can on the ground and then reached over the side of the truck bed and pulled out another beer from a partially buried ice chest.
As he popped the top and turned to take the first drink, he saw Ginny. The grin that spread across his face made her nervous. In that moment, she knew she never should have stopped to watch. Trying to look nonchalant, she made herself walk toward the cabin when she wanted to run.
“Hey, baby! Wait for me!” the man yelled. “I’ve got something that’ll put a sway in your step.”
Ginny thought she heard the other two men telling him to shut up, but whatever they said, he seemed bent on ignoring.
She was gauging the distance to her front door as no more than forty feet when she heard footsteps approaching on the gravel. She spun. He was coming toward her on the run.
She didn’t think, she just reacted. Sully had told her if she needed him, just yell, so she did.
Twice.
At the top of her voice.
It was hard to say who was more startled, Ginny or the stranger, but the half-naked man who came flying out of the cabin between them was armed and running. Sully’s hair was awry, his feet and chest bare, but the look on his face and the gun in his hand said it all. He spared her one quick glance, assuring himself that she was still in one piece, and then barked out an order.
“Get in the cabin.”
Ginny spun around and didn’t stop until she’d slammed the door behind her. Quickly she ran to the window and peered through the curtain. Sully had the stranger on the ground and was going through his pockets, while holding the other two men at bay with his gun, although she couldn’t hear what was being said. A few minutes later he yanked the man to his feet and then stood and watched until they all drove away. Once the pickup had disappeared, he turned and looked straight at her.
Ginny found herself wanting to run to him in thanksgiving. When she saw him coming toward her cabin, she settled for something less dramatic and just met him at the door.
“I suppose I overreacted.”
He needed to tell her that she’d nearly stopped his heart. That the fear in her voice had yanked him out of a deep sleep with no mercy. That he’d stumbled into his jeans without thought for anything but her and getting to his gun, and that he’d been so damned scared he wouldn’t get to her in time. Instead, he just shrugged and shook his head.
“You did what I told you to do.”
Ginny nodded, then shivered suddenly and wrapped her arms around herself.
“Was he drunk?”
“And high.”
“Lord,” she muttered. “Do you think they’ll come back?”
“Probably. The manager is their father.”
Ginny winced. “Nothing like making points with management.”
“I told them you belonged to me and to leave you the hell alone.” He wasn’t surprised by the startled expression on her face, but he didn’t bother to explain. She could figure it out for herself.
Strangely enough, Ginny chose not to comment, which did surprise him. Then, when she pointed toward the porch behind him, the last thing he expected her to say was, “Would you please get my cup?”
He turned, saw the empty coffee cup and picked it up.
“Want some?” she asked, as he walked inside and handed it to her.
Her words curled around his belly and pulled his nerves in a knot. Some what? What he wanted right now had nothing to do with caffeine.
“Yeah, sure,” he said. “If you’ve got extra.”
Ginny nodded. “I owe you again.”
Sully touched her then, on the shoulder, and only briefly. It was all he could afford.
“We’re not keeping score on this one, okay?”
She smiled, then ducked her head and went to get his coffee.
Sully sighed as he watched her walk away. Her T-shirt had a hole near the hem and was faded to a dull, ugly gray. Her sweatpants weren’t much better. Tall and lithe to the point of being almost skinny, she was still so damned beautiful she made him ache.
Laying his gun on the table, he combed his fingers through his hair. As he sat, he chose a chair that would give him the optimum view of her as she worked. It didn’t take five seconds for him to know this was getting too personal.
He sighed.
Son of a bitch.
He shouldn’t have slept in her bed.
When she turned around, he masked his emotions with a yawn and nodded his thanks when she handed him the coffee.
“Since you’re up…”
He grinned.
“I’m going to fix some eggs. Are you interested?”
Weighing the possibility of a couple more hours of sleep against sitting across the table from her again, the food won.
“Sounds good. Need any help?”
Ginny’s attention focused. “Can you cook?”
“I’m not bad.”
“That’s more than I can say,” she muttered. “Bring your coffee. You can do the bacon.”
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
“Watch?”
Sully arched an eyebrow as she led the way into the kitchen. Damn, but he was in over his head.
While they were cooking breakfast, the trio Sully had run off from the landing were cooking up something of their own. Carney, Dale and Freddie Auger didn’t cotton to being run off of their own daddy’s place of business. All they’d been looking for was a place to sleep off their three-day fishing party. It wasn’t the first time they’d spent more time drinking than fishing, and it wouldn’t be the last. But they all knew better than to go home in this condition. Their old ladies would never let them hear the end of it. Carney, the one who’d taken a shine to Ginny, was the most pissed and had spent the better part of the last hour talking about it.
“Goddamn it! I’m tellin’ you both…ain’t no son of a bitch puttin’ me on the ground and livin’ to tell the tale.”
Freddie was driving and didn’t bother to comment, leaving the commiserating up to their youngest brother, Dale. Dale was a yes-man from way back; no matter what they did, he always went along with the stunts, even when he knew he was making a mistake. Freddie didn’t have much respect for Dale, although he didn’t mind him hanging around.
“I don’t blame you,” Dale said. “He didn’t have no call to pull a gun on you like that. You wasn’t doin’ nothin’ but havin’ yourself a little fun.”
“Damn straight!” Carney said, and took another swig of his beer.
A few more miles passed, during which time Carney kept getting drunker and drunker. Suddenly he slapped the dashboard of Freddie’s truck.
“Turn this som’bitch around,” he mumbled. “I wanna see Daddy. We went to see Daddy, I wanna see him.”
“Dang it, Carney, you’ll put a dent in my truck. Calm yourself down. We’ll see Daddy tomorrow after you’ve sobered up some, all right?”
“No, I wanna see my ol’ daddy right now. He’s gettin’ on in years. What if he goes and dies on us tonight and I don’t get to tell him goodbye?” The tears in his voice changed to fury as his drunken thoughts continued to scatter. “It’d be that bitch’s fault. Her screamin’ like that and all. What the hell did she think I was gonna do?”
Freddy glared. “You know how you get when you’ve done too much dope. Probably thought you was gonna rape her, you dumb ass, and I can’t blame her. I wasn’t so sure about you myself.”
“Yeah, Carney, you as much as told her what you was comin’ to give her,” Dale said.
Carney slapped the side of Dale’s shoulder. “Shut the fuck up,” he muttered, and tossed his empty beer can out the window. “We’re goin’ to get us a motel room and sleep it off. We’ll see Daddy tomorrow, and that’s that.”
Both brothers hushed for the moment, but Carney’s anger continued to simmer. He would make that woman and her old man sorry or know the reason why.
Sully had almost finished dressing when his cell phone rang. He rounded the bed and grabbed it on the third ring.
“Sullivan Dean.”
“Hey, Sully, Dan Howard here. How’s it going?”
Sully sat on the side of the bed. “All right. I suppose the boss called you?”
“Yes. Thought I’d check in and let you know what’s going on. I’ve got people in all six cities, gathering information on each of the victims. You know, this thing gives me the creeps. While their deaths seem self-inflicted, they’re damned bizarre.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Sully said. “And if you ask me, the most bizarre was Sister Mary’s.”
“I heard she was a friend. I’m really sorry.”
“Thanks. Actually, she’s the reason I even got involved.”
“What about the Shapiro woman? Do you think she knows anything?”
“No. She’s scared to death, hiding from the world and anything connected to telephones, but I’ll have to give it to her, she’s tough.”
“That’s all right. Being tough might be what it takes to keep her breathing.”
“I hear that,” Sully said.
“Anything else I need to know about?” Dan asked.
“Had a run-in this morning with three locals. I don’t think it’s anything serious, but I’m going to run a check on them just to make sure.”
“Do you think they’re connected to this?”
“No. Their dad manages the place where we’re staying. I think it’s just a case of bad luck and bad timing all the way around.”
“Okay, but if you learn anything, let me know.”
“Same to you,” Sully said, and hung up.
He sat for a moment, contemplating the best way to run a check on the three brothers, then decided to call Myrna. If he went through the local authorities, then that would be more people who knew Sully was a Fed, and that would spark curiosity they didn’t need. He punched in the number for the director’s office and waited for her voice.
“Federal Bureau of Investigations.”
“Myrna, it’s Sully.”
“Good morning, Agent Dean. I’m sorry, but the Director is on the Hill in meetings all day.”
“I didn’t call to talk to him. I called to talk to you.”
“What do you want?”
Sully grinned. The woman was a shark.
“I know this isn’t really in your job description, but I’ve got three brothers I need to run a check on. Do you think you could run the plate for me and see if these jokers have rap sheets?”
“Yes, I could.”
When she put her emphasis on the word could rather than yes , Sully grinned.
“Then will you?” he asked.
“Will this piss off my boss?”
Sully’s smile widened. Darned if Miz Myrna didn’t have more vinegar in her than he’d imagined.
“No, ma’am. I wouldn’t do anything to get you in trouble with the Director. Besides, Agent Howard knows about this, and he’s in charge of the case.”
“Then I need the number and the names.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sully said, and reeled them off.
“Will that be all?” Myrna asked.
“You sure you won’t reconsider working with me?”
Sully thought he heard a small snort just before the dial tone buzzed in his ear.
He grinned as he stuck the phone in his pants pocket and then headed out the door toward Ginny’s cabin. There were decisions to be made regarding her safety. He was leaning toward taking her to a safe house. At least there, the perimeter would be easier to monitor.
“It’s me,” he said, knocking once on her door before entering.
Ginny was seated in the middle of the bed with a notepad in her lap and the pages that Georgia had sent her scattered about her. She didn’t even look up when Sully entered.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Making lists.”
“What kinds of lists?”
“Similarities. Differences.”
He glanced at the notepad, impressed by the meticulous notes she was making.
“How did you know that?” he asked, pointing to one item about Jo-Jo Henley that she’d listed on the Differences side.
“I asked the owner of the place where she was working.”
“She had ovarian cancer?”
“That’s what he said. He also said that no one else knew.”
Sully pulled up a chair and sat down, his interest growing.
“That could change a lot of people’s perceptions about her death. You know…maybe she flipped out and decided to take her own life.”
“Yes, I know. But if she was so bent on just killing herself to keep from suffering later, then why not take some sleeping pills or something? If she was averse to suffering, I don’t think she would have chosen to hug a truck as a means of leaving this earth.” She looked up at him then. “None of this makes any sense.”
“Okay, granted there are a lot of variables. None of them actually put a gun to her own head and pulled the trigger, but each and every one of them did put herself in a situation that caused her own death. I mean…where else can you go but down if you’re jumping from a bridge…or, in Georgia’s case, into a river?”
Ginny tossed her notepad aside and bolted from the bed, too antsy to sit.
“I don’t know, damn it! If I had answers, I wouldn’t be hiding, afraid of my own shadow.”
Sully let her vent. Getting mad was a hell of a lot healthier than being scared half to death.
“What else do you know that I don’t?”
Ginny threw up her hands. “I don’t know! I made calls to the families of the deceased. Did you?”
Sully rocked back in the chair, his eyes widening.
“When did you do all this?”
“Before I left St. Louis. After I found out that Georgia was dead.”
“Did you make notes?”
“I’m a reporter, Agent Dean. What do you think?”
“I think I’ve underestimated you, and the name is Sully.”
Ginny’s anger slid out of her in one breath. “I’m sorry,” she said, and slumped down on the side of the bed, only inches away from his knee.
Sully could see a vein throbbing in her neck, and there were beads of sweat along the upper edge of her lip. They would be salty.
He jerked as if he’d been slapped, although Ginny Shapiro had no idea where his thoughts had gone.
“No apologies needed. We just need to get on the same page.”
“I’ll get my notes,” Ginny said, and leaned backward on the bed, reaching for the notepad she’d tossed aside.
As she did, his phone suddenly rang. She gasped and then froze, her eyes wide with shock as she watched him reaching into his pocket.
“Ginny…don’t! My phone can’t hurt you.”
She went limp, embarrassed that she’d reacted in such a terrified manner. Of course his phone couldn’t hurt her. What was she thinking?
“I knew that,” she muttered, and strode outside, leaving him alone in her cabin.
Sully cursed beneath his breath and then answered. It was Myrna.
“The ’94 model Ford extended cab, Mississippi license number 4XJ99, belongs to Freddie Joe Auger, of Hemphill, Mississippi. He’s been arrested a couple of times for Drunk and Disorderly, but nothing major. Dale Wayne Auger, also of Hemphill, has nine speeding tickets. Nothing more. Carney Gene Auger has a rap sheet longer than Lady Godiva’s hair. Should I read them all off?”
Sully’s gut clenched. He should have known this wouldn’t be as simple as he’d first believed.
“No, just give me the highlights.”
“Lots of possession charges, drug-related arrests, theft, assault with a deadly weapon. He’s a real Boy Scout.”
“I don’t suppose there are any outstanding warrants?”
“No.”
Sully sighed. “Of course not. That would have been too easy.”
“Their father, Marshall Auger, is the brother of a local judge. He owns and manages a fishing area on the Tallahatchie River, about a hundred miles north of Biloxi.”
That much he’d already known. “Okay, Myrna, I owe you big, this time. When I get back to D.C., I’m buying you the biggest steak in the city.”
“I’m a vegetarian.”
Sully laughed. “The hell you are. I personally saw you downing a good half-dozen shrimp at last year’s Christmas party.”
“I backslid. I’m over it.”
“Myrna, can I ask you a personal question?”
“No.”
The line went dead in his ear. Sully disconnected, making a mental note to himself to send her flowers when this was all over, and went to look for Ginny.
She was sitting on the stoop, staring down at the ground.
“I want to move you to a safe house.”
Startled, she jumped up. “Why? What was that phone call about? Do they know who’s causing—”
Sully took her by the arm. “No, no, calm down a minute and just let me talk.”
She went silent, but she didn’t relax. He could feel the tension in her muscles.
“That wasn’t about the deaths, it was about the guy who accosted you this morning.”
Ginny frowned. “What’s he got to do with all this? I thought he was just some local who—”
“He is a local. The manager here is his father, which means he might come back and take another run at us. I pissed him off pretty good this morning.”
Ginny sighed and then combed her fingers through her hair in frustration.
“No! Damn it to hell, no!”
“What do you mean, no?”
“I’m already running from someone I can’t identify. I’m not going to start running again. Better the enemy I know than the one I don’t. I’m not going to a city. There are too many people and places to be careful of. I don’t want to go to some safe house where people watch me from dawn to dark, taking note of everything from the fact that I cry in my sleep to how many times I go pee.”
Sully couldn’t think. She’d taken him off guard with her honesty.
“You cry in your sleep?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes.”
He wanted to touch her, but something told him to keep his distance.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Dreams, I guess. I never remember them, but the tears are there when I wake up.”
“Jesus,” he muttered, thinking of the other six women and wondering if they’d cried in their sleep, too.
“Don’t make me leave,” Ginny said, hating herself for begging, but something inside her said to stay where she was, and she’d been a reporter too long to ignore her gut instincts.
Sully sighed. “We’ll see,” he said. “If things escalate with those men, you won’t have a choice.”
She shrugged. “Fair enough.”
“Now, about your notes. Want to share them with me?”
He’d asked, not demanded, and Ginny’s estimation of the man went up yet another notch. He was darned good-looking, and if this morning was any indication, he looked even better out of his clothes. He’d come to her rescue, not out of duty, but from love and honor for their mutual friend, Georgia. And he was still coming to her rescue. She was going to have to be careful not to let herself get emotionally involved with a virtual stranger.
Ginny waved her hand toward the cabin. “After you…Sully.”
She’d called him by his name. He looked at her and then grinned. Slowly.
Ginny’s breath caught in the back of her throat. Oh man, why couldn’t he have looked like Walter Matthau instead of Harrison Ford?