Come Hell or High Desire (10 page)

Maybe they’d found her. But why hadn’t they called him directly? He’d given them his
number with the report.

“We can’t afford any bad PR right now, Zack. This… This is disturbing.” Ross paused
for a moment. Acid began peeling away the lining of Zack’s gut. “Have you had the
radio on in the past few minutes?” Ross asked.

Zack froze. What if…
No.
If it was about Ann, Ross would’ve come right out with it. “No. I’ve been busy. Benjamin
have a cardiac arrest in his sleep?”

“No.” Ross’s usually calm, modulated delivery betrayed a slight tremor. Zack’s eyes
found Sloane’s as Ross continued. “A few kids found a body along the riverbank less
than a half mile from your place. It was…
My God,
the body was on fire.”

Chapter Fifteen

Moody lightning cast a sinister backdrop to the crime scene as Zack pushed through
the tall, dewy grasses that lined the banks of the Red River. Though it was nearly
midnight, excited members of the media droned like idling planes and an owl swooped
from thick branches, startled by the human intrusion, its hunting grounds no longer
inviolate.

Zack focused on the boys. Three of them. The untouched six pack at their feet. A cell
phone gripped in one of the boys’ white-knuckled hands.

Their tear-stained faces and horror-filled eyes.

Their innocence lost.

Zack had listened to the radio on the way. The media had already labeled the boys
delinquents, but they were only children testing boundaries, trying on identities.
Silently asking for someone to acknowledge their individuality.

They weren’t bothering anyone.

Not like the madman who’d savaged the still-smoking figure that lay on the ground
not thirty feet away, illuminated by portable lights on rickety poles. The crime scene
stretched from the edge of the road down to the riverbank and about a hundred feet
on either side of the body, the best Zack could tell.

The native grass had burned to the ground around the body, imbuing the site with a
sense of ritualistic offering. A sour fullness backed into his throat. He’d found
a body of his own at the age of ten. The overturned chair and his father’s lifeless,
opaque eyes and free swinging feet remained fixtures in his nightmares all these years
later.

But this body… That inhuman form on the ground. That wasn’t Ann.

Couldn’t be. Or his failure to John would be complete.

He tried to swallow, but his throat was raw. This was someone else’s nightmare. He
rubbed his chest and fought the urge to leave. To fade into the crowd, get in the
car and just keep going. Going until he either ran out of gas or fear.

He looked at the crowd and then back at the uniformed officers who were questioning
the boys. They quavered like notes from a wind chime. Why weren’t they being comforted?
Zack strode forward only to be brought up short when a man cried out, rushing by to
scoop all the boys into his arms. Zack felt the impact of their solidarity all the
more because it was so genuine. So foreign. The man and three boys clung together,
sobbing openly.

The boys were damaged, but they’d be okay.
Eventually.

“Mr. Goldman, this way please.”

His name plate read Officer Miller. The same cop who’d escorted him past the yellow
tape when he’d first arrived and identified himself as the one who’d put in a missing
person’s report mere hours ago.

Felt like eons.

Zack looked up at the stone-colored sky made gauzy by the artificial lighting, then
turned to follow the officer, a ruddy cheeked, barrel-chested farm boy whose burly
presence kept the media and rubbernecks from straying beyond the secured perimeter.

As they drew near the strangely quiet circle where crime scene technicians scoured
the area for evidence, Miller maneuvered in front of Zack, his dark eyes suddenly
old. “Brace yourself. Close up is even worse, but maybe you’ll be able to recognize
the necklace.”

Oh, God. It was a woman
.

When he stepped back, the bursts of light from a technician’s digital camera stormed
through Zack’s sense of the surreal. He ground his teeth together to block a surge
of nausea. Surrounded by a scorched circle of earth, the body lay curled on its side,
hands pulled into fists, knees drawn in as though for protection. Large patches of
blackened skin remained on the skeleton like leather shrink-wrapped to bones.
How fucking long would a body have to burn to turn into that?

Zack grabbed his chest and turned away, trying to breathe out of his mouth so the
stench wouldn’t push his stomach into full revolt. This was so wrong. It couldn’t
be Ann, could it? He thought he’d know instantly, but the thing on the ground didn’t
resemble anything remotely human, much less a woman he considered a sister. And the
necklace he was supposed to identify? Fused to the corpse.

His eyes watered, and he looked up to find himself face to face with an old enemy.

Detective Tony Barnaba, Head of the Crimes Against Persons division at the Fargo PD,
addressed his junior officer, but never took his eyes off Zack. “Officer Miller, where
in procedure does it say to bring a civilian into the crime scene?”

Miller blanched. “Detective, I thought we could save time by having him try to identify
the necklace. Autopsies take time, pictures are never as easy to ID, and with missing
persons, every minute—”

Barnaba’s head snapped toward Miller. “Are you telling me how to run a missing persons
investigation, Officer?”

“No, sir.”

“Man your post. We’ll continue this discussion later.”

“Yes, sir.” Miller nodded at Zack before moving toward the crowd at the edge of the
yellow tape.

Zack pressed the fingers of his right hand against his temple again. This was not
a good time to appear weak.

Barnaba looked out of place at the grizzly scene with his tailored sport coat, starched
blue shirt, and spit-shined badge. Tall and trim, he looked healthy, vigorous, and
ready to kick some ass. With the exception of more salt and pepper above his ears,
the detective looked the same as he had all those years ago when his courtroom testimony
had hammered the nail in Zack’s coffin.

Zack made himself meet Barnaba’s eyes. “I see you’re still Mr. Nice Guy.”

Barnaba’s eyes darkened, and Zack braced for a punch, but it never came. He wished
it would have. He needed to move. Walk, run, fight. Whatever.

“Your opinions don’t mean anything to me, Goldman. I need some answers for my vic.
You filed a missing persons report. Could this be her?”

What was there to say? Zack couldn’t tell by clothing since the corpse had been naked
when she was burned. And how the coroner was going to remove that necklace, he had
no idea. He prayed the woman—whoever she was—had been dead long before the flames
had devoured her flesh.

“Your house isn’t too far from here, is it?” Barnaba continued.

“What’s your point?”

“What’s the nature of your relationship with your missing person?”

“Ann’s like my kid sister. We work together at Samuel’s. I spelled it out clearly
enough in the report.”

“You have alibis since she’s been missing?”

Zack tamped down the urge to take a swing at the man he’d unknowingly cuckolded all
those years ago. Damned if Kasey didn’t stand between them as palpably now as she
had back then. Zack had gone to prison because of Kasey’s betrayal and her husband’s
need for revenge. He hadn’t been given a fair trial, and Barnaba had been to blame.

“If you want something to do, look into a local pastor. Dallan O’Neill. He’s supposed
to be a real pillar of the community, but as I learned the hard way, looks can be
deceiving.” Zack turned away but Barnaba’s fingers gouged into his bicep. Zack jerked
his arm and squared off, ready for battle, when one of the technicians yelled out
from a crouched position next to the corpse.

“Detective, we’re gonna have to tarp the body. I need more time to gather evidence,
but I don’t like the look of these clouds.”

Barnaba looked up, muttering under his breath. Moisture hovered in the air as though
waiting for permission to fall. After a moment, he leaned into Zack’s personal space
again. “You better watch every move you make, Goldman. I’ll be happy to send you back
to your boyfriends at the state lockup if I have even the slightest evidence you’re
involved here.” He paused, and Zack wondered how it would feel to wrap his fingers
around the man’s neck and squeeze. Hard.

“About your missing person, this Ann… I need every detail. Friends, family, places
she frequents, health or medical conditions, DNA samples, photographs. Everything.
You have questions about what to bring, ask my staff. I’ll be back at my office at
zero-seven-hundred. If you’re not there by noon with what we need, I’ll find you.
And you won’t like it.” Barnaba glared at Zack for another moment before moving on
to address members of the investigating team standing in various perimeters of the
sealed area.

Zack watched one of the technicians spray dirt hardener to make shoe impressions.
Another vanished into a bush to search for God only knew. A plump raindrop spattered
against Zack’s cheek, and the scene exploded in a flurry of activity to preserve the
evidence. He scanned the faces of the snoops lining the county road, looking for Archie.
Zack had called him on his way to the river. He should’ve been here by now. Hopefully
Twyla was okay.

Ann, too, because that burnt offering wasn’t her.

Zack stepped through the grass toward his truck. He was getting paranoid. But what
was worse? Worrying when you didn’t have all the information, or pretending everything
was all right when your gut bitch slapped you with foreboding?

No more John. Now Ann? What could he do?
What?
And where was Sloane? She’d looked so terrified when he’d told her about the burned
body. She’d turned and run from him. Out the door without even saying goodbye.

A sudden helplessness rushed through him, a flaming backdraft of despair that nearly
sent him to his knees. John had once remarked that loving is easy, it’s the losing
that’s hard.

Yeah.

Zack wanted to hear Sloane. See her. Touch her.

He was every kind of fool.

“Mr. Goldman.” Zack turned to find Officer Miller. “Detective Barnaba wants the name
of Ms. Samuel’s dentist, as those records will be most expedient to identify the victim.
Or at least rule out—”

“Zack!”

Both men looked toward a tall blonde at the edge of the yellow tape. The gentle rain
sluiced down her honeyed legs, her arms, molding her shirt to her body. Relief poured
through him until he registered her terrorized eyes. He swallowed hard and faced Miller.
“Tell Barnaba I’ll be at the station later this morning with everything he’s requested.”
Then he moved like a wooden soldier toward Sloane. “You don’t belong here.”

“Who is it?”

God, the look in her eyes.
“Sloane—”

She fisted his T-shirt. “Tell me!”

“They don’t know yet—”

“Tori. I can’t find her!”

“What? Tori who?”

“My manager. My best friend! It’s after midnight, and she’s not home. She’s
always
home!”

“Shh.” He pulled her into his arms. She was shaking. He should probably take her to
the ER. Shock was a bitch. He wondered when it was going to lay him low, too.

She clung for a moment before she pushed away and started to duck under the yellow
tape. He grabbed her shoulders. “No,
no.
You can’t, Sloane.”

Lightning flashed, illuminating the hollows under her cheekbones. “I have to know.
Tori.
You don’t understand. She was
burning
, Zack. It was her, wasn’t it?” She turned, but his fingers held firm.

“What are you talking about?” He was yelling now and vaguely realized people were
staring. He pulled her toward his truck, opened the door, and pushed her inside out
of the rain, fists on his hips to keep them still. “Start talking.”

“I’m sorry! Please don’t be mad. I can’t stand it.” She covered her face with her
hands.

“Christ! Sloane…I don’t— It’s not— Ah, hell!” He grabbed her icy fingers from her
face, cupping his much larger ones around them. “I’m not mad at you. Please don’t
cry. Just tell me why you’re so upset.”

She pulled her hands from his grasp to place her fingers against his cheeks, the pads
of her thumbs feathering against his lips. The moment she closed her eyes, he felt
a low pulse of energy storm through him, bolstering him, warming him from the inside
out. When she opened her eyes, she was more composed. She brought her hands to her
lap.

“I saw it. I saw
this
.” She gestured toward the crime scene. “Someone burning. Earlier—or, I guess it was
yesterday afternoon now. I was at the store. Tori touched me, and I saw someone burning.
Coming toward me. I thought I was overwhelmed with everything going on with Ann…and
you.”

“That’d do it, all right.”

“No, listen. At Ann’s, after I went into the bathroom, I called Tori. I could tell
right away she was upset. She saw her boyfriend at a restaurant with someone else
when he’d told her he was going to be out of town. She was so beside herself, I told
her I was coming over, but she pulled herself together. I tried to get her to talk
more about it, but she kept changing the subject. So I let it go. Then when your friend
called about the burning…” Her voice caught, and Zack couldn’t
not
touch her. He reached for her hands again. She studied their joined fingers before
continuing. “I had this awful feeling. I have a key to her place, so I went over there.
After knocking with no answer, I let myself in.” Her eyes found his. “She wasn’t there,
but her car was. Just like Ann. Bad things always happen when I try to use my visions.”

“You can’t possibly think any of this is your fault.”

But her subtle shrug told him she did.

“Her car in the garage means nothing. She’s probably making nice with her boyfriend.”

“No.”

“How do you know? Have you met the guy?”

“No. He— Tori said he travels a lot for work.”

The look in her eye stopped him cold. “Did you read something at her place?”

“Not exactly, but the vibes were the same. First Ann and now her.” She hugged herself
and bent over like she’d been sacked. He pulled her up and gathered her in his arms
while his mind spun.

She blames herself. Why?

If the corpse wasn’t Ann’s, but Tori’s, the only logical connection between the two
was Skinny Dipping. Which left Sloane square in the middle.

Pinpricks of panic needled his extremities. Puddles of water were forming in potholes
along the road’s shoulder. She shuddered, and he leaned into the truck to grab an
old shirt behind the seat to wrap around her.