Northwest: Deep Freeze Part 44

There was no escape and yet she ran, her bare feet slipping on the h.o.a.r-frosted ground, her tight black dress, binding, restraining her from running faster.

"Jenna...Jennnnnnnaaaaa."

She died a thousand deaths at the sound of his voice. It seemed to come from everywhere. "Who are you?" she demanded, as the wind whipped through her hair and clawed at her face.

"You know."

"I don't!" Her legs were like dead weights, dragging her deeper into the snow, her dress ripping and peeling away as, frantic, she scrambled among the headstones, forcing herself through the snowflakes that stung as they pelted her skin.

The voice whispered against her ear, "I am everyman." Deep, male, and guttural, it echoed through the cemetery.

"Leave me alone." She tripped over a short stone wall that had been hidden in the snow.

"Wait for me..."

"Leave me the h.e.l.l alone!" she screamed, turning to face nothing. No ogre. No wraith. No horrid creature stalking her. The snowflakes continued to fall and spin and dance in the night.

"You are my woman..."

"I'm no one's woman, you fiend." She turned to run again, but something grabbed her from below, holding her fast, strong fingers curling around her ankle. Glancing down, Jenna found herself staring into the upturned face of Lynnetta Swaggert.

Lynnetta, her hair combed, an angelic halo seeming to glow around her as she lay upon the snow, smiled blissfully upward, and said, "You'll tear your dress, Jenna." Blue eyes clouded with worry. "Be careful. I can't mend it for you any longer."

"Lynnetta! Thank G.o.d you're all right."

But Lynnetta's beatific smile turned evil. "Sensual...strong...erotic..." Lynnetta repeated, as if she'd memorized the words.

"What are you doing here? Who brought you?" Jenna demanded.

"You are everywoman."

"Like h.e.l.l!"

"Tsk, tsk. This is your destiny."

"Destiny? No..." In a full-blown panic, Jenna looked around at the crumbling headstones, the thick night closing in. "I've got no destiny."

"Of course, you do. I'm talking about G.o.d, Jenna," Lynnetta said. "He's the only door to salvation."

"G.o.d is no part of this."

"He works in mysterious ways."

"That's bull, Lynnetta."

"Where are your clothes?"

"What?" Jenna looked down and discovered that she was naked. The black sheath was no longer wrapped around her body and she was cold...so d.a.m.ned cold...shivering. Sharp bits of sleet bit at her skin, leaving tiny red welts upon her flesh. "I don't know."

"You'd best find them, naughty, sinful girl. Tsk, tsk, Jenna. Shame on you. Making those filthy films..." Lynnetta's peaceful smile faltered and she was gone; in her place was dirty snow, piled high around a tombstone.

With horrified eyes, Jenna read the inscription: Ca.s.sandra Lynn Kramer, beloved daughter.

What! Her heart hammered painfully. Ca.s.sie? No!

"No, no, no!" she cried, hyperventilating, tears streaming down her face...

Jenna's eyes flew open.

Darkness surrounded her as the nightmare slithered into the darkest corners of her subconscious. "My G.o.d," she whispered, swiping the tears from her eyes.

She was home.

In her own bed.

Safe.

Her heartbeat slowed as she caught her breath. And then sensed it. A presence. Dark and evil...as if someone had been standing over her, watching her writhe painfully through the nightmare. But that was impossible; probably her own mind playing tricks upon her, the remnants of the chilling, grotesque dream. Her skin p.r.i.c.kled in fear, and she strained to listen for the sound of shallow breathing, or the sc.r.a.pe of a shoe against the floor. She heard nothing out of place, just the howl of the wind shrilling over the eaves and the creak of old timbers settling onto the frozen foundation.

Yet there was a shift in the air, something amiss, the cool breath of some living creature's wake.

Don't do this to yourself, she reprimanded, as she rolled quietly from beneath the covers and grabbed the robe she'd tossed over the footboard. Heart thudding wildly, she made her way to the hallway, and by the feeble glow of the nightlight, she climbed the few stairs to the next floor where the hardwood was cold against her feet and the air seemed to stir without reason.

Ca.s.sie's bedroom door was ajar and bluish light flickered from within. Quietly, Jenna pushed the door open and saw her daughter fast asleep on the bed. Ca.s.sie's face appeared innocently soft and unlined, cast in the shimmering pale blue from the muted television. The worries and stresses of her teenaged life had been erased by the peace that comes with sleep.

So far, so good, Jenna thought, as she slowly let out her breath and walked noiselessly to her younger daughter's bedroom. Carefully, Jenna opened the door and Critter, at the foot of the bed, lifted his furry head. His tail thumped while Allie, disturbed, smacked her lips as she rolled over before burrowing deeper under the covers.

Everyone was safe.

No evil presence was skulking through the halls.

"Jenna?"

She nearly lost control of her bladder.

Gasping, she whirled to find Jake Turnquist, only his head and shoulders visible as he stood on the stairs. "Everything okay?"

Of course not. Does it look like everything's okay? "Yes...no...I think." She pushed her hair from her eyes and tried to calm her galloping heart as she walked quickly toward him. Whispering, she said, "I had a bad dream. About Lynnetta. And when I woke up, instead of being relieved, I had the feeling that someone had been in my room, had been standing at the edge of the bed and was staring at me."

"Maybe you heard me come in."

"To my room?" She was suddenly wary.

"No. I was downstairs. My flashlight batteries went dead tonight and I didn't have any replacements. I knew you kept extras in the pantry, so I came in to get some. Maybe you heard the back door open."

"Maybe," she said, then shook her head as they walked down the stairs together. "But I don't think so. I think...Oh, G.o.d, am I going insane?" she said, and realized that she couldn't remember her last, uninterrupted good night's sleep. Her nerves were frayed and she was close to the breaking point. "That's it, I'm going crazy."

"I don't think so. They say that if you think you're crazy, then you aren't. Come on downstairs," he said tiredly. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll do another perimeter check."

"Thanks," she said, and though she sensed his reluctance, he took off for his rounds.

In the den, Jenna turned on the television, yet stared out the windows to the dark, howling night beyond. There was no moonlight. No stars visible. Just the certain, steady fall of snow.

She caught her own pale reflection in the window and watched Jake for as long as he was visible, then waited nearly an hour for him to return. She stoked the fire, heated hot chocolate, scanned yesterday's newspaper, and half-listened to a late, late talk show, all the while watching the seconds tick off the clock.

Finally the back door opened and Turnquist walked into the house. Brushing snow from his jacket and pants, his face ruddy with the chill from the wind and snow, he looked as tired as she felt.

"Nothing?" Jenna offered him a cup of hot chocolate.

He pulled off his gloves and took the cup gratefully. "Not a d.a.m.ned thing."

He'd seen no one outside.

Found no evidence of anyone having been on the ranch.

Was certain nothing had been disturbed.

"I guess I'm just paranoid," she said, feeling like a fool. She'd sent the man out in the bitter cold because of a "feeling" that someone had stood over her bed and watched her as she'd slept so fitfully. And Jake was more than a little ticked, though he tried to hide it. Snow was melting on his stocking cap, and his hands, despite the fact that he'd worn insulated gloves during his rounds, appeared chapped and half-frozen.

"Look, I don't think you're crazy, you know that. But your nerves are shot." He didn't say the words kindly as he warmed his hands by the fire, stretching his fingers as if to a.s.sure himself that they still worked. "Maybe you should take something to help you sleep."

"Sleeping pills?"

He looked over his shoulder at her, appraising her with cool blue eyes. "Or Valium, or Prozac, just enough to take the edge off."

"I think I need 'the edge' on."

He didn't reply, just picked up his cup and finished the hot chocolate. Outside, the wind tore down the gorge, keening and whistling around the eaves.

"Jake?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"Just doin' my job," he said, his voice softening slightly as he carried his cup to the sink. "Go on upstairs and I'll lock up."

"Okay. Good night."

"Is it?" he teased, shaking his head. "h.e.l.l, I don't think so."

"Me neither." Smiling at his bad joke, she headed up the stairs to her bedroom, once her sanctuary, now violated. She wondered if she could ever relax in here again. Tossing her robe over the foot of the bed, she yawned. Everyone was here. Safe. She could sleep now.

She glanced over at her dresser and noticed the jewelry box. Had it moved? Get over yourself, Jenna. Go to sleep.

But as she stared at the box, she noticed one of its small drawers wasn't completely closed.

Had she left it that way?

When was the last time she'd opened it?

She couldn't remember.

Oh, for G.o.d's sake, Jenna, the drawer's not completely shut-so what? Are you going to freak out over every little thing? Jake's right-you need drugs or something to calm yourself down! Disgusted with herself, she reached for the lamp, then decided to close the d.a.m.ned drawer. She walked to the bureau and looked into the box.

Every muscle in her body tensed. A tiny piece of lavender-colored tissue paper was visible.

What the h.e.l.l?

She hadn't put anything wrapped in tissue in the box.

But Allie could have. She's always playing with your things. Maybe she found the missing bracelet and returned it, wrapped like a present.

Or...

Heart hammering, she carefully unfolded the thin paper and as she did, she thought she might be sick. Her eyes widened in horror and she screamed as she stared down at a severed, b.l.o.o.d.y finger.

CHAPTER 38.

Jenna let out a shriek guaranteed to wake half the state. Trembling, she stared at the finger in horror. Oh, G.o.d, oh, G.o.d, oh...She heard footsteps and her kids calling her. "Mom! Mom!" Critter began to bark madly. "Mom, are you okay?"

Glancing over her shoulder, Jenna spied Allie in the doorway, her face pale, her chin trembling. Allie's little fingers were clutching the doorjamb, her nails digging into the wood casing. Ca.s.sie stood right behind Allie, her hands wrapped protectively over her younger sister's shoulders, her frightened eyes holding Jenna's. "What's going on?" she whispered obviously terrified.

Don't lose it, Jenna, not in front of the girls. You have to be strong. Jenna took in a deep breath, glanced down into the box, and noticed that the blood looked fake...that there was no bit of bone visible in the flesh, that...what the h.e.l.l? Her mind ran in circles and felt sick inside as she realized it wasn't a real finger, complete with wedding set, but a fake digit, the kind created by master craftsmen on a movie set. The kind of thing Shane Carter was talking about earlier.

"Mom?" Ca.s.sie prodded.

"I...I'm okay. It's just a sick joke," she said. "A sick, twisted, horrible prank." Still quivering inside, she forced a smile. "Someone left me a present."

"Let's see." a.s.sured that things were okay, Ca.s.sie stepped around a horrified Allie and made her way across the room. "Sweet Jesus," she gasped. "What's that?"

"Fake."

"Where'd you find it?"

"My jewelry box."

"I wanna see." Allie, on bare feet, hurried to the dresser. "Oh, yuk!" she said, her little face scrunching in horror.

Ca.s.sie was shaking her head. "But who-"