Don't Scream Part 63

He wasnt wearing a uniform.

He wouldnt have been. He was undercover, there to protect me. She shifts her weight in the seat and wonders if shes still spotting.

What are you talking about, Brynn? Pat takes a hard curve too quickly; the tires make a high-pitched squealing sound on the wet pavement as, cursing, he swerves to avoid an oncoming car.

That guy is flying, he mutters, shaking his head. What were you saying, Brynn?

Ill explain everything later. Just drive, she murmurs, still trembling, and not just from the close call on the curve. Dont stop anywhere; well call when we get to town.

Nodding grimly, Pat presses the gas pedal a little harder, putting more and more distance between them and the cabin.

Sinking onto the cabins steps, Quincy buries his head in his hands as Connelly tersely radios for backup.

The young cop lying face down on the closet floor had his throat slit so forcefully he was almost decapitated.

The same thing happened to the two who were concealed in the woods. Large footprints in the mud showed that somebody crept up on each of them and attacked from behind before they knew what hit them; no sign of a struggle. Their necks were probably sliced open before they could make a sound.

The security detail he promised Brynn Saddler was wiped out just like that: one, two, three. Gone.

And so is Brynn herself.

Quincy was certain they would find her body. Her car is parked right here; her purse is in the cabin. But there is no Brynn, mutilated and wearing a pink party hat. No cake, no party decorations, no gift box.

Thank G.o.d.

Still Quincy is certain shes not safe and sound. No, she wouldnt wander off without her pursewithout hercar . She must be here somewhere.

With Rachel.

Or Suddenly, he remembers the Jeep that came barreling recklessly around that curve before, on the way up here. Somebody was h.e.l.l-bent to get down the mountain.

Back to Cedar Crest.

And those footprints in the woods They were made by bootsnot necessarily a mans, but still too big for a woman affectionately described by her brother as a tiny little thing.

Quincy stares unseeingly at the oppressive forest surrounding the cabin, his stomach burning as he realizes that, for the first time in a long career, his gut instinct might have been wrong.

Wait, where are you going? Brynn asks Pat as he turns down Tamarack Lane.

Im taking you home. He glances at her, touching the brakes to slow the Jeep. No?

She shakes her head. I need to get to a doctor, or the hospital.

I thought you wanted to call the police.

I do. All right, she decides swiftly, Well stop at my house, Ill call them, Ill call my doctor, and And I have to call Garth. What happened last night doesnt matter anymore.

I need him to know about the baby Before I lose it.

I need him with me. No matter what he did ten years ago. Hes right. It doesnt matter.

And he forgave me, so I can forgive Pat reaches out and pats her clenched hand. Its going to be okay. Hang in there, all right?

She nods, wondering what she would have done if he hadnt come along.

You would have gotten out of there anyway. You were on your way Or would someone have emerged to stop her?

Was the killer there, concealed, ready to strike?

Probably.

And Pats unexpected presence saved her life For now.

We gave Rachel a chance to get away. Now Ill always wonder where she is and when shes coming back for me.

But she cant think about that now. She hugs her midsection as Pat pulls into the driveway, parks the car, and hurries around through the rain to open her door for her.

He helps her down with a steadying grip on her arm and escorts her toward the door, still glancing over either shoulder. She looks, too, and is rea.s.sured to see that they werent followed.

Come on, Brynn.

They splash through the rain to the front door. Glad she had her keys in her back pocket, rather than left in her purse back at the cabin, Brynn opens the dead bolts and steps into the familiar dry warmth of home.

Pat closes the door behind them.

Lock it, Brynn commands, the dead bolts, too.

Were not even sticking around, he protests. Then, seeing the look on her face, he obliges.

Ill call the police, she says, and starts for the phone in the kitchen.

In the doorway, she stops short.

And screams.

Using Ashleys keys from her backpack, and trying one key after another, she manages to unlock the door on the third try.

She steps swiftly and silently over the threshold into the dim interior, all but certain the place is deserted.

But if it isnt Then Im dead.

This time, for real.

Or maybe not. h.e.l.l hurt her only if her growing suspicion about him proves to be correct.

If shes wrong, and hes harmless Then Im safe for now.

And so is Brynn.

She moves quickly through the room to the end table beside the couch, and pulls open the drawer, remembering what Ashley told her earlier.

I was looking for a pencil and when I opened the drawer, I saw it.

The silver rose sorority bracelet.

It was in a white box, on a square of cotton. Ashley confessed guiltily that she opened it and snuck a quick peek; her father was in the shower.

I figured he must have bought my mom another one because she liked the first one so much, since she kept it.

No, Ashley. He didnt buy the first one for your mother.

He didnt buy the second one, eitherfor her, or anyone else.

And it isnt Ralph Lauren.

Ashley thought it was, she said, because of the silver letter charms hanging from it:R.L .

Rachel Lorent.

That bracelet was on Rachels wrist the night she disappeared.

So what is it doing in Pats apartment?

It isnt, she realizes, staring into a drawer thats empty, aside from a couple of pencils and an old issue ofTV Guide .

It isnt here at all.

Ashley must have been imagining things.

She slowly closes the drawer and walks back to the door, before thinking better of it.

No.

G.o.d, no, please For an endless moment, Brynn is rooted to the floor, staring at the shocking sight that lies before her.

Even in the dim light, she can see that her kitchen has been transformed as if for a childs birthday party: crepe paper, balloons, paper place settings.

Just as Fionas dining room was.

In the center of the table is a cake, spiked with unlit candles. It reads Happy Birthday in expertly scrolled pink icing, and, in darker lettering, DEAR BRYNN.

Just like Fionas cake.

Shes here.

The realization doesnt strike Brynn like a lightning bolt; no, it painstakingly makes its way into her consciousness, seeping slowly like a pool of blood from beneath a closet door.

Shes here, and shes going to kill Pat Then shes going to kill me.

My baby. Her arms cross over her stomach. No.

And Caleb, and Jeremy, and Garth Theyre going to be left alone Just like we were, when Mommy died.

History is destined to repeat itself. Brynns children will grow up as she did, longing for maternal love s.n.a.t.c.hed away far too soon. Theyre younger, far younger, than Brynn was when she lost her mother.

I cant let it happen.

I have to get away.

She begins to spin on her heelthen freezes at the telltale sound of a match being struck, and a flickering, eerie light permeates the room.

Its not as bad as Ashley feared being back at school.

Not even on a gloomy day like this.

In fact, she almost welcomes the familiar glare of overhead light banishing the gray behind the tall windows, the hiss of steam heat, the smell of wet wool, and, here in the crowded cafeteria, of hot dogs.

She can almost pretend that her life beyond the walls of Saint Vincents School is the same as it always was. She can almost imagine that her mother is at work in her office a few blocks away.

Where do you want to sit? Meg asks as they hesitate with their plastic lunch trays, surveying the rows of tables.

Ashley can feel people looking up to stare at her, nudging each other, whispering.

Look, there she is. The girl whose mother was killed.

I dont care, she tells Meg under her breath, lets just find a spot, fast.

They carry their trays to the vacant end of a table by the window and sit down.

So my mom said youre going to live with your dad for good now, Meg says.

How does your mom know?

She talks to him a lot, I think.

Really? Ashley dully recalls how Daddy called Megs mom Cyn that day at the movies.

Maybe theyll fall in love and get married after all, Meg says.

Ashley contemplates that for a moment. That prospect doesnt hold the same allure it once did. She doesnt want a stepmother. Or a new mother.

She only wants her own mother back.

She swallows hard over a lump in her throat and blinks away tears as she unwraps her straw.

Your dad told my mom he wants to move into a better place, though.

Ashley nods, jabbing her straw into her carton of chocolate milk.