Closer Than You Think Read Free Page A

scream from her nightmares. Twelve steps and a basement . Sometimes she woke from the nightmare to find herself screaming for real, which had scared the hell out of her ex-husband – a fact that gave Faith a level of satisfaction that was admittedly immature. Officer Charlie Frye deserved a hell of a lot more than a start in the night for what he’d done.
    Her mother had done so much worse to her dad. ‘Dad deserved a hell of a lot better than what you did to him. So did I. I still do.’ She hesitated, then spat the words out. ‘I have hated you for twenty-three years. I lied for you. I lied to Dad so that he’d never know what you did. So if you meant to hurt him, you failed. If you meant to hurt me, then congratulations. You hit the bulls-eye.’
    It suddenly occurred to her that her best revenge might be to live as her mother had always expected to – as mistress of the manor. It was almost enough to make Faith smile, but the memory of her father’s devastation made her angry all over again.
    The thought of her father brought to mind the promise she’d made. Reluctantly she snapped a photo of Margaret’s headstone with her phone and texted it to her dad. He’d made a pilgrimage to her grave every few years, but a recent stroke had him housebound. Faith had promised him the photo so he’d know for sure that the grave was okay.
    Got here safely , she typed. All is well. Mama’s grave is –
    Her finger paused as she searched for the right words, rejecting all the wrong ones that would be sure to hurt her father, who still believed the inscription to be true. ‘Well cared for’ was honest, she decided, so she typed it. Will call from the hotel.
    She didn’t dare call now. Standing here looking at her mother’s headstone . . . She wouldn’t be able to keep the bitterness from her voice. Swallowing hard, she hit send , then turned back to her Jeep with a sigh. If she couldn’t get into the house, there was nothing more to be accomplished here today. She’d hit the Wal-Mart near her hotel to buy some cleaning supplies and turn in early. She had a busy day tomorrow.
    Mt Carmel, Ohio, Sunday 2 November, 6.05 P.M.
     
    His hand froze mid strike as the light in the ceiling began to flash. What the hell?
    The alarm. Someone was outside.
    ‘Fuck,’ he bit out. It couldn’t be the caretaker. He’d mown the grass a few days before. It was a trespasser. Rage bubbled up, threatening to break free. Someone had the nerve to trespass here? To interrupt him now ?
    He glanced down at the young woman on his table. Her mouth was open, her breath sawing in and out of her lungs, her expression one of desperation. It had taken him two fucking days to get her to this point. After fighting him tooth and nail, she’d finally begun to scream.
    She had the most remarkable threshold for pain. He’d be able to play with her for a long, long time. But not right now. Someone had trespassed and needed to be dealt with.
    If he was lucky, it was someone who was lost, looking for directions. When they realized the house was abandoned, they’d leave. If not . . .
    He smiled. He’d have another playmate.
    He put the knife aside, several feet away. Just in case. The woman on his table had proven to be smart and strong. A little too smart and strong for his liking, but he’d soon fix that. The moment his captives’ wills broke, the moment they realized that no one would come to save them, that he was their master for as long as he chose . . . He smiled. That was satisfaction.
    Closing the door behind him, he left the torture room and went to his office. Powering up his laptop, he brought up the cameras, expecting to see a salesman or someone stranded—
    He stared at the monitor, shock rendering him motionless for several long seconds.
    It can’t be. It simply can’t be. But it was. It was her . She was here . Standing at the cemetery fence. Staring at the grave markers, her face as cold as ice.
    How can she be here? He’d