Читать книгу Cursed - Lisa Childs - Страница 10
ОглавлениеRed-and-blue lights flashed and sirens wailed as the ambulance pulled away from the Magik Shoppe. Rain streaked down Maria’s face and soaked her sweater and skirt as she stood in the gravel drive, watching the ambulance speed away with Raven. That gasp for breath had been her only one, and then the man had done CPR on her.
Except for opening her eyes once, the young woman hadn’t regained consciousness again. She hadn’t been able to tell them who had hung her from the rafters.
Had it been him?
Maria turned her head to where he stood with the Copper Creek sheriff near the police cruiser. Even though he talked to the older man, his gaze was fixed on her, his steely blue eyes just as hard and cold as they’d been when he had pressed the gun to her chin.
The sheriff jerked his balding head in a couple of quick nods, as if obeying the younger man’s orders. Tall and broad shouldered, the stranger held himself with a confidence and authority born of power.
Despite the water running down his leather jacket and darkening the denim of his jeans, he seemed oblivious to the rain—focused only on her. As it had from the cards, energy flowed from him and spread through Maria so that her skin tingled with awareness and fear. She had never felt such a connection to another human being.
He had to be the one.
His conversation with the sheriff ended with the lawman hurrying back inside the open doors of the barn. So he approached her alone.
Her heart pounded with the urge to run, but before her feet could move, he was in front of her, his long legs needing only a couple of strides before he stepped close to her. So close that Maria had to tip back her head to hold his gaze as her heart continued to pound out a frantic rhythm.
“Who are you?” she asked.
His hand slipped inside his leather jacket, and she tensed, expecting him to withdraw the gun he’d put there before he’d begun CPR on Raven. But instead he took out a wallet and flashed it open to an FBI badge.
She blinked back the raindrops clinging to her lashes and read his name. Seth Hughes. And he was a special agent. But it didn’t matter that he had an FBI badge; he could still be the one she’d run from in fear all these years. He could be the witch-hunter.
Anyone could be the witch-hunter.
“I’ve been looking for you for a long time,” he said.
Tracking her down, he’d said earlier. The ominous words turned her colder than the rain that seeped through her clothes to her skin, and she shivered. “Not me.” She shook her head. “You must have me confused with someone else.”
“No,” he said with absolute certainty. “You’re Maria Cooper.” He reached for her now, his big hand clasping her wrist as he turned her around.
That flow of energy between them grew more intense, her skin heating beneath his hand. Despite her empathetic gifts, she’d never reacted to anyone’s touch the way she did to his. It had to be a warning...
“I’ll scream,” she threatened him. “Sheriff Moore is just inside the barn. He’ll hear me. You won’t get away with it.”
“You’re the one who won’t get away,” he said as cold metal clamped around her wrists. “Maria Cooper, you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent—”
“Under arrest?” She jerked around to face him. “What are the charges? Assault?” She grimaced over having almost stabbed him. “You never identified yourself. You just pulled that gun on me.”
A muscle twitched along his jaw. “I didn’t have a chance to identify myself. I had to assess the situation.”
“You can’t arrest me for trying to defend myself,” she pointed out.
“I’m not arresting you for trying to kill me.”
“I didn’t...” Until tonight she had never raised a hand, let alone a weapon, to another human being. She was all about healing—not hurting.
Had her potion or her prayer worked on Raven, bringing that gasp of breath to her lungs? Had she done enough for the girl to survive?
Agent Hughes ignored her denial and led her toward the dark SUV parked behind her pickup truck. After opening the back door, he put his hand over her head and guided her onto the seat.
Hating that even her hair tingled from his touch, she pushed against his hand. Then she twisted around on the seat, keeping her legs out so that he couldn’t lock her inside the vehicle. She was afraid to get into a SUV with him, afraid of where he might take her.
Of what he might do to her...
“If not for assault, why are you arresting me?” she asked. “What are the charges?”
“Murder.” That muscle twitched again along his jaw as he stared down at her.
“I didn’t hurt Raven,” she said. But it must not have looked like it when he walked into the barn and found her alone with the unconscious girl. “And she’s going to live.”
She has to...
“Your arrest has nothing to do with her,” Agent Hughes said. “Yet. You’re under arrest for multiple counts of first-degree murder.”
She would have laughed—had he not looked so deadly serious. So instead she shook her head. “I’m not a killer.”
“You’re not just a killer, Maria Cooper—you’re a serial killer. And while Michigan doesn’t have the death penalty, some of the other states where you’ve killed do have it. You won’t be able to hurt anyone else where you’re going.”
She didn’t need any special gifts to know he was talking about sending her straight to hell.
* * *
Seth had promised to call them when he found her. But breaking his promise would probably be a bigger favor to them than keeping it. Maria Cooper was a dangerous woman.
And he had locked himself inside the tiny interrogation room at the local jail—with her. Just the two of them. The table between them was so small that every time he moved, his knees bumped against hers. That contact, however slight, sent blood rushing through his veins, roaring in his ears. What the hell was wrong with him?
Over the years, he had connected with victims...through evidence left behind at the crime scenes. And he’d had those damn vivid dreams ever since he was a kid. But never before had he had such a reaction to a suspect, as if inexplicably drawn to her no matter the atrocities she’d committed.
He pushed back his chair, but it bumped up against the cement-block wall behind him. And she was still so close he could feel her. To slow his pulse, he drew in a deep breath, and her scent filled his lungs—that sweet, smoky mixture of lavender and sandalwood that had his stomach knotting with desire...and apprehension.
He closed his eyes, but then the images from that damn dream—that wasn’t a dream—flashed through his head. Her hair skimming across her slender shoulders. Her naked back, turned toward him, the moonlight playing across her honey skin and that trio of tattoos. She stood and faced him, the gun in her hand. The shot echoed inside his head, and he winced and opened his eyes.
“The caffeine’s giving you a headache,” she murmured, gesturing toward the paper cup of sludge sitting between them.
His stomach roiled at the thought of how long it had been sitting in the bottom of the pot in the sheriff’s office.
“You should drink herbal tea.”
“I need the caffeine.” To stay alert. To keep his wits about him. “You sure you don’t want some? It’s going to be a long night.”
“It already has been,” she remarked with a wince of her own. “You finished reading me my rights.” She gestured at the paper she’d signed acknowledging that he had. “Why haven’t you locked me in a cell yet?”
Because while he’d put her under arrest and read her the Miranda rights, she wasn’t really under arrest. He had a warrant only to bring her in to question as a material witness in all those murders—not for committing the actual murders. Seth really didn’t have enough to arrest her for murder yet, even though she was his prime—his only—suspect. He had enough only to question her involvement. Fortunately, she’d waived her right to legal representation during this interview, so whatever she said he would be able to use against her.
“I have some questions for you,” he said.
“About Raven?”
“About all of them.” He picked up the leather briefcase he’d taken from his car and laid it on the table between them. He unlocked it and withdrew a thick folder. “These are the people you were more successful at killing over the past eight years.”
He flipped open the folder and fanned out the crime scene photos across the surface of the table as she probably did her tarot cards. He didn’t need to look at the pictures. All he had to do was close his eyes, and like that dream, the images played through his mind. The first girl had been drowned. A young man had been crushed beneath a board weighted down with bricks. Another girl had been hung...as someone had tried to hang Raven tonight. And the worst, the fire...had left behind little of its victim.
Of her victim.
She didn’t look at the photos, either. Instead she held his gaze. The color drained from her face, making her wide almond-shaped eyes look even bigger and her high cheekbones and heart-shaped chin even more delicate. “I don’t know anything about any murders. I don’t even know why you keep calling me Maria Cooper.”
“Because that’s your name. That’s who you are.” Now that he had found her, he had a feeling that he would never be free of her...that this eerie connection that had haunted him would always bind him to her.
She shook her head, tumbling her glossy black hair around her shoulders as she had in his dream. “No. No. I’m not her.”
“Who are you, then?” he asked, humoring her. “You have no ID. No driver’s license. No birth certificate.”
“Is there a driver’s license or birth certificate on file—anywhere—for Maria Cooper?” she asked.
“You know there’s not. There is no evidence you ever existed.” He tapped the photos. “But these. You’re the one person every single victim had in common. You’re the last person every single victim saw...when you read their tarot cards.” In most of the crime scene photos, the cards were still strewn across the table.
She closed her eyes, as if trying to shut out the images before her. But was she like him? Did they live on inside her head, haunting her just as they—and she—haunted him? Then, closing her eyes would give her no reprieve. In fact, sometimes it only made the images more real for him, like those dreams that weren’t just dreams.
She opened her eyes, just a little, and studied him thoughtfully. “That’s why you took my fingerprints.”
He glanced down at her hands, which were slightly stained on the front and slightly scratched on the back. He’d already requested that the sheriff have Raven’s fingernails scraped—to see if DNA could be matched to the woman who denied she was Maria Cooper.
She narrowed her eyes more. “I may have read their cards, but that doesn’t mean I killed them. You have no evidence that I hurt any of them. There’s no way that a judge really issued a warrant for my arrest.”
“No,” he admitted.
She stood up. And so did he, reaching across the narrow table to grab her wrist again. Like every other time he’d touched her, his fingers tingled and images flashed through his mind like a slide show.
His hands cupped her shoulders, and he pulled her closer. Her chin tipped up, her lips parting on a gasp of desire. She dragged in a deep breath that lifted her breasts against his chest. His head lowered, closer and closer to hers...
He hesitated, his mouth just a breath away from her full lips. Hunger burned in his gut; he’d never wanted to kiss anyone more. Never needed to kiss anyone the way he needed to kiss her...
“Let me go!” she said, tugging at her wrist. “You have no right to keep me here.”
“I have every right to keep you here,” he said. Just no right—or reason—to want to kiss her. Hell, she was the last woman he should be tempted to kiss. He knew exactly how dangerous she was.
“You’re a person of interest,” he explained, “and I do have a warrant to pick you up for questioning.” Ignoring the desire that hardened his body, he slid his hand up her arm to her shoulder and gently but firmly shoved her back into her chair. “You’re going to stay here and answer all my questions.”
“You have the wrong person,” she said, stubbornly sticking with her lie. “I’m not Maria Cooper.”
“DNA would prove who you are.”
Fear widened her dark eyes. “You can’t take my DNA without my permission.”
“Unless I get a warrant for it,” he warned her. Since he’d finally found her, he would be able to ask for one—especially since the attack on Raven. But it would be faster than waking a judge in this godforsaken county in the Upper Peninsula if she freely offered it. “If you’re not her, why won’t you provide a sample of your DNA to prove it? To clear yourself?”
“You forget—it’s innocent until proved guilty,” she said, her lips lifting in a slight smile. But it was grim—not taunting.
He had been taunted by other killers, ones who had sat across the table from him, laughing at him during the interrogation. Proud of their crimes. She didn’t act that way. But then, nothing about her was completely what he had expected except for her beauty.
She was so damned beautiful.
But he reminded himself and her, “We both know you’re not innocent. Your name—your description—comes up in police reports across the country going back nearly two decades. Since you were ten years old, you helped your mother run cons on desperate, gullible people.”
And because of that, he doubted she was the real deal. Like so many other self-proclaimed psychics, she was nothing more than a con artist.
She shook her head. “You have the wrong person.”
For a con artist, she wasn’t a very good liar. Then again, most suspects had trouble lying to him. “So prove it.”
She shook her head again.
“You won’t give up your DNA, because you know it’s going to be at every one of these murder scenes.” He tapped the photos again as he settled back onto the chair across from her. He needed to look at those photos, to remind himself what happened to people who got too close to Maria Cooper.
The tip of her tongue slid out and flicked across her lower lip. Was she manipulating him? Did she know how that simple action had his guts constricting with desire? With need?
“Just—just because someone was at the crime scenes,” she stammered, “before the crimes happened, doesn’t mean they were involved in the crimes.”
“Once,” he allowed, “maybe even twice. But four times—five, including tonight? That’s more than coincidence. That’s means and opportunity. The only person who’d be at every one of these crime scenes is the killer.”
“And you,” she said. “You’ve been at every scene.”
First in his mind and then in person. He nodded. “I’ve been looking for you for a long time. Catching you has been my number one priority.”
She shivered—maybe it was because her clothes were wet from the rain. Maybe it was because his determination scared her.
“Number one priority?” she repeated. “Why? Nobody’s died in over a year.”
He cocked his head at her significant slip. “How would you know that unless...?”
“The dates on the pictures.” She pointed toward the corner of one of the photos. “The most recent one is over a year old.”
“Yes, no one’s died in over a year,” he admitted. Most of his colleagues had considered the case cold. That was why he had made the trek to the UP alone, on his own time. He’d been chasing down a lead no one else had considered worthwhile, working a case no one else cared about anymore. “Until tonight...”
She shuddered. “No. Not Raven...”
“It shouldn’t have been any of them, either,” he said. “No one should have died. Why? Why did you kill them?” Especially as gruesomely as she had. Was it because they’d had real gifts and she had resented them for it?
“I didn’t kill anyone,” she insisted. And maybe she was a better con artist than he’d thought, because she actually sounded sincere. “I would never hurt anyone.”
He snorted in derision of her claim—not because of the dream but because of the reality of her swinging that knife toward his back. If the flash of the blade hadn’t caught the candlelight and reflected it into his eyes... If he hadn’t stopped her...
“That’s not what Raven said when she called me tonight,” Seth informed her. “She was afraid of you.”
“She called you?” she asked, surprise flickering through her dark eyes. “Why—how—did she contact you?”
“I gave her my card when I stopped by your shop earlier today,” he said.
Her golden skin paled. “You were there earlier today? She never said...”
“That an FBI agent had tracked you down,” he finished for her. “She covered for you earlier—with me, denying that you are who you are.” Much as Maria herself was trying to deny her identity.
“That’s because you’re wrong about me,” she insisted.
Seth had never been more certain of anyone’s identity than he was of hers. He didn’t need DNA to prove she was Maria Cooper. But he did need her DNA to link her to those other crime scenes.
“I’m not wrong,” he replied. He could have added that he rarely was—because it was true and well-known in the agency. “And Raven realized I was right about you, too. She called me because you scared her.”
Color returned to her face as her skin flushed. “I—I didn’t mean to scare her. She shouldn’t have been afraid of me.”
“You threatened her,” he reminded her. “You told her she was going to die.”
Maria shook her head. “It wasn’t me. It was the cards. It was what I saw.”
“What you saw?” Did she really see things, the way he did, or was she like so many other psychics, a crackpot looking for money and attention? Those old police reports from people who had given up their money to her and her mother claimed that she was a fake. But maybe she’d just been faking with them...
“When I read the cards,” she said, “I saw that she was in danger. I wanted to protect her. I tried to get her to stay with me—”
“She stayed,” he said. “She called me from the shop. And that’s where I found her—with you.” If only he had been able to get there in time, the girl might not be fighting for her life at that very moment.
“She left,” Maria argued, “right after I read her cards. I tried to stop her.”
“Was that when you struggled?”
“Struggled?”
“The table was overturned, the cards scattered across the floor.” He caught her hands in his and stroked his thumbs over the scratches on the backs of them. As if she felt the same jolt he did, she jerked her hands from his. “Is that when she scratched you, or was it when you tied the noose around her neck?”
She shook her head. “No. I found her like that...when I came back to the shop.”
“So you left the shop, too? You chased after her?”
“Not right away,” she said. “I made her the amulet first. Then I tried to find her—to give it to her.”
“Amulet?” The dried plants hanging, like the rope, from the rafters, and the crystals and candles hadn’t been just for ambiance. She used them, as witches had centuries ago, to cast spells.
“I made it of herbs and crystals to ward off the evil and protect her from harm.”
“It didn’t work.” Harm had befallen Raven. And from the last words the girl had said to him, he had his prime suspect sitting across the table from him. Their knees touched again, his sliding between hers. The warmth of her body emanated through their rain-damp clothes, and heat rushed through him.
Another image flashed through his mind.
Her hair tangled across his pillow. Her nails digging into his shoulders, then clawing down his back. She clutched at him, her body tensing beneath his. She cried out his name. “Seth!”
He blinked, forcing the thoughts from his brain. He had been focused on the case—and on finding her—for too long. Had he—as some of his colleagues had suggested—become obsessed? His obsession needed to be justice. Not her. He coughed, clearing the thickness of desire from his throat, and asked, “What were you saying?”
Her brow furrowed with confusion, but then she repeated, “I couldn’t find her—to give the amulet to her.”
“You did find her,” he pointed out. “Or had you stayed at the shop the whole time, waiting for her?”
Had Maria been there already when Raven had called him? After hearing the terror in the girl’s voice, he’d driven as fast as he could and also had called Sheriff Moore as he had left the motel, hoping the older lawman had been closer. Still, Seth had beaten him to the Magik Shoppe.
She shook her head again, making her wild curls cascade around the shoulders of her worn sweater. “It wasn’t me. Someone else must have been there. Someone else hurt her. I tried to help her. That’s why I had the knife. I cut her down.” She shivered. “You’ll see—when she wakes up, Raven will tell you everything.”
“I hope like hell she can,” he said. The girl had mentioned having evidence to prove that Maria was the one he had been looking for, the killer he was determined to stop. That was why she’d gone back to the shop, to find him that evidence. She’d risked her life for it. But what he’d found on her didn’t prove that Maria was a murderer, just that she was Maria Cooper. There must have been something else...
He pulled his cell from the inside pocket of his leather jacket, checking to see if he had missed any calls. “I left a message for the hospital to call me as soon as she regained consciousness.”
“And they haven’t called.”
Regret trapped his breath in his lungs. Had he been too late? Had his efforts at reviving her been unsuccessful? “No. They haven’t.”
“She’s not dead.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he replied. “What the hell did you put on her throat and in her mouth?”
“Those were herbs that I use for healing,” she said. “The mixture should have restored her breathing and reduced the swelling in her throat.”
He held up his cell phone. “I don’t think it worked,” he said. “Or I would have a call by now.”
Maria gazed around the small room as if searching the corners for something. For what? And she insisted, “She can’t be dead.”
“You better hope like hell she isn’t, because I can put you at the scene. In addition to your DNA that I’m sure was under her fingernails, I’m an eyewitness.” He had her. He finally had her. And now the senseless killing would stop.
“I didn’t hurt her. It wasn’t me.” She gestured at the photos. “I didn’t hurt any of them.”
“You’re the one. Raven confirmed it to me on the phone.” Even without that confirmation, he had been certain. She was the only thing all the victims had had in common; she was the last person every one of them had seen. “Raven also said she had proof.” And he needed to find out what that proof was. He needed to talk to the girl—needed her to live—so that he could officially close all those other cold-.case files. “I should call the hospital again.”
But a call wouldn’t be good enough. If she regained consciousness, even for just a second as she had at the barn, he needed to be there to question her. “Actually, I should go to the hospital.”
She nodded and stood up again. “I want to go with you. I want to see her.”
“I can’t let you go,” he said. “I have a material witness order for you. I don’t have to release you until you answer my questions.”
Or until she called a lawyer who could get her released. He could question her for only so long without charging her. And he didn’t have enough to charge her. Yet.
He hoped Maria was right and that the girl wasn’t dead. But he wasn’t sure how anyone could have survived a hanging. He doubted that the herbs put in her mouth and on her throat had actually been a healing potion. They were more likely to have been poison.
Maria settled back onto the chair. “I’ll stay,” she said as if she had a choice. “Please check on her.”
He slid his phone back into his pocket and reached for his keys. “I’m going to lock you in here.” Because he had no doubt that if he didn’t, she would be long gone by the time he returned.
But he waited for her protest. Maybe she would even ask for that lawyer now.
Instead she nodded in agreement. “That’s fine with me. I want to stay until you get back anyway. I have to know how she’s doing.”
Seth studied her beautiful face and wished he could read her mind. Did she want the girl alive or dead? Did she really believe the girl would exonerate her? Or was she afraid that Raven would implicate her, and she wanted the young woman as dead as her other victims?
* * *
It was so much easier than he had thought it would be—easier even than killing them in Maria Cooper’s little magic shops. Maybe a big-city hospital would have had better security, but here in Copper Creek he had no problem moving freely around the building, which was more urgent-care center than actual hospital. The lights low, as patients slept, he hovered in the shadows, as he had earlier that night in the barn.
He had been there when the girl had placed her hysterical phone call to the FBI agent. For him that call had confirmed that she really was a witch. How else would she have known, just as she’d told the FBI agent, that he would be too late to save her?
She had seen her future. Her fate. At his hands. And since she could see the future, she was definitely a witch.
But the girl hadn’t seen that Maria would come back to the shop. Neither had he.
Usually when the cards came up as they had, Maria Cooper took off—leaving everything and everyone behind her. Except him. She would never be able to leave him behind. He always knew where she was—unlike the FBI agent who’d been trying to track her down for years.
But Seth Hughes couldn’t save her—just as he hadn’t been able to save the girl with that hideous tattoo painted on what must have once been a pretty face.
Maria had been the one to cut her down—just seconds after he had strung up the girl and knocked the chair from under her. He would have grabbed Maria then, but he’d known the FBI agent was on his way. He couldn’t risk getting caught before he’d completed his mission.
Before he killed the most powerful witch...
And he’d thought the girl was dead—that surely her neck would have broken when she hung. But Maria had used one of her potions and some mystical spell to save her life. Or to steal her death from him.
Sticking to the shadows, he now crept into a room the farthest down the hall from Raven’s. Then, after tripping the alarm on the machine connected to the patient in that room, he slipped deeper into the shadows. He waited for the medical staff to rush to the elderly man’s aid before he stole, unseen, into Raven’s room.
Acting quickly, he disconnected the air hose from the machine and poured in the water he carried in a cup. It slid down the tube and directly into the girl’s airway. Her eyes opened, big with terror, and she stared up at him, a question in her gaze.
Why?
She wanted to know why he was so determined to take her life.
“Because you’re a witch,” he whispered. “And I’m a witch-hunter.” He didn’t know if she heard him, because with one last gurgling gasp, she was gone.
Another witch dead...
But he felt none of the satisfaction of his earlier kills; his joy in the hunt was waning. Yet he couldn’t leave his mission undone. He couldn’t allow witches to live—to work their craft and mess with people’s minds and hearts and livelihoods. He had to save the world from their evil ways.
The alarm sounded on Raven’s machine now, signaling with a flat line that she was really gone this time. He disappeared again into the shadows behind a tall cart in the hall as the nurses hurried back toward the girl’s room.
“What the hell happened?” one of them asked as she grabbed up the disconnected tube.
“Could she have done it?” the other nurse asked. “She’s in here because she tried hanging herself.”
Curses rang out, the voice deep and masculine, as the FBI agent joined the nurses at the bedside of the dead witch. He was getting close, too. Not just to Maria but to him.
He had been saving Maria until last, using her as bait to draw out the other witches. But she seldom shared her knowledge of witchcraft now.
While she sold the herbs and talismans and amulets, she didn’t teach the craft of spells and potions. It had taken Raven a long time to get close to her, and probably no one would get that close again.
Except for him.
It was time for Maria Cooper to die.
