IDENTICAL DECEPTION

PROLOGUE

"Bend your knees and let your butt do the steering!"


Saturday night at the Black Swan started out badly and ended worse. The packed theater rocked with the mandatory attendance of a hundred 15- and 16-year-old students on a summer school class assignment. Ten minutes into "To Kill a Mockingbird," Carter Foster farted a real ripper, popping and sizzling for several seconds. He sat two seats to the left and down one row from Keira, which put her practically in the line of fire. Keira immediately guffawed out loud and elbowed her identical twin, Kylee, in the ribs.

"Oh wait 'til you smell this one! You'll swear something crawled up there and died!"
"Shhhh, Keirs, he'll hear you," Kylee said, suppressing a grin.

"That's the whole point!" Keira blurted. Everybody within earshot turned to look and shush her. She bolted upright in her seat. "But Carter’s the one who farted! And everybody heard it!" Keira pointed at the offender and sank into her seat in a fit of giggles. "Can't you smell that? Ewwww! Probably a wet one! Carter the Farter strikes again!"

"If you don't shush, I'm hauling your butt outta here," Kylee said, giving her exuberant sister a pinch on the arm.

"But it stinks," Keira whispered, waving a hand in front of her face and wrinkling her nose. "It smells like dirty ass."

"I mean it, you brat. Stop it. They'll kick us out of here!"

"Oh, how I hate Carter Foster! He's a big fat slob. And he hates me even worse, ever since my most excellent prank at the prom last month. And can you believe he's with Debbie Amundson tonight? That ho would blow anybody…he just wants his pecker pulled anyway…" Keira's voice progressed from a whisper to a hoarse growl. Several people turned to look at them.

"Keira, shhhhh!" Kylee whispered urgently.

"You girls hush now," an usher said calmly from Kylee's right elbow. Kylee jumped, then looked up at the expanse of red uniform standing at her side. She grabbed Keira's hand and squeezed hard. The bald, middle-aged man scowled at them both. "I'll have to escort you out if you don't be quiet and watch the movie."

"I'm sorry, sir. We'll be quiet." She turned to her sister. "Won't we, Keirs?"

Keira laughed anew. "Okay, Li'l, okay. I'll be good." Keira always called her Li'l, short for Little Sister. Keira was two minutes older; two minutes of psychological power she held over her younger sibling.

With a sigh, Kylee sat back in her seat. Stupid old boring black-and-white movie, anyway. She stole a glance at Keira who snorted, trying hard not to laugh out loud. Endeavoring to rein in Keira's spirit felt like harnessing the stars—so taxing at times, but never a dull moment. Surreptitiously watching her sister struggle for control, she saw the exact same long auburn curls and emerald green eyes that looked back at her in the mirror every morning. Looking at Keira might as well be looking in a mirror. Their differences consisted of a small flat mole on opposite sides of each of their necks, and Kylee was right handed, Keira left. True mirrored identical twins. Those two things allowed their parents to immediately tell them apart—and that one other thing. That thing they didn't talk about outside the family. Kylee’s gift.

The movie ended. As the girls stood to leave, Carter grabbed Keira's arm. She spun around in the aisle to face him, yanking her shirtsleeve out of his grasp.

"You embarrassed me in front of my date," he shouted, spittle spraying her pristine white cotton blouse. He shoved his face closer. Too close. Kylee backed up a step, but Keira held her ground. She always held her ground. "She left halfway through the movie because of you! I hope the ShadowEater gets you, you mean little bitch!"

Keira burst out laughing and flipped him off as he stormed up the theater aisle. "You embarrassed yourself! It wasn't me who farted so loud it sounded like a special effect in a Terminator movie!" she shouted at his retreating back. "And there's NO SUCH THING as the ShadowEater, you fat pig!" she added long after he exited the doors.

"Keira Madison, you stop right now! Do not say his name out loud! You know saying his name brings him closer!" Kylee’s stomach clenched in urgency as she whispered her sister into silence.

"Oh, pshaw!" Keira said, waving a hand. "That old demon is so long gone, he'll never return. You told me you banished him, remember?"

"I didn't exactly banish him, and keep your voice down. Somebody will hear you." Kylee propelled her sister by an elbow out of the theater and through the glass doors to the parking lot. Out of earshot of anyone else, she stopped. She rested her rear end on an old Audi, and lifted her foot to rest on the rusty bumper. She folded her arms beneath her bosom, and glared at her grinning 15-year-old sister.

"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times—quit talking about my gift so glibly. People will take you as a total nut. And my incantation only sent him back one level. The crack in the veil of time is widening, and he could come back at any time. You know these things, Keira! Why do you test me?"

"Veil, schmeil. Until I see a demon, or one of those ghosts you say walk among us, I'll keep my own ideas." With a flip of her ponytail, Keira strode out of the parking lot and headed toward home.

"Keira! Come back!" Kylee hollered. "We have to wait for Dad. Mom will kill us if we walk home alone. Get back here!"

"Nope!" Keira yelled back over her shoulder, angry now. "I'm testing you, remember?" She took off at a lope.

Kylee ran hard to catch up, grabbing her sister's arm. "I'm sorry, Keirs! Forgive me? You know I love you. You just try my patience sometimes!" Kylee hugged her sister fiercely around the neck. "Don't be mad at me."

"Ah, quit it. Come on; it's only a mile. We can walk. Dad will be late, you know he will. He's always late, off in some dream world. Make him wait for once." She gave her sister a gentle push, then grabbed her by the hand, sprinting towards the sidewalk like a young freckled fawn.

Kylee hung on behind her sister's headlong gallop, her own ponytail flying out behind her. "Slow down, Keira! I'm running out of air!"

A streetlight beyond the next corner flickered and dimmed.

***

"Why aren't you afraid of demons, Keirs?" Kylee asked as they walked side-by-side past the cemetery two blocks from home. She glanced through the wrought iron gates and watched as an old woman stood atop a newly filled-in grave looking confused. She recognized the elderly Mrs. Gates, who died three days ago after a long, difficult illness. Kylee ignored her; the light would claim her soon enough. Kylee’s abilities to see dead people before they passed into the light had taught her some hard lessons about what death means and where we go when we die.

“Because I don’t believe in demons. Or ghosts, either. I’ve never seen either of them. I just pretended to believe when you did that chanting thingy. It’s all hogwash. I think when you die, you’re just gone. Forever worm food.” She shrugged her shoulders.

Exhausted, Kylee put one foot in front of the other. The oppressive darkness this late summer night in Oklahoma felt like walking through maple syrup—temps still well over 80 and the humidity even higher under an overcast sky. Bugs shrilled in the underbrush alongside the path next to the road, and fireflies blinked their sexual frenzy. An occasional car whizzed past, full of happy teenagers or a young family. Someone honked and waved, and she lifted her arm half-heartedly. Why couldn’t she get through to her stubborn sister?

The girls turned a corner and headed west, away from the relative safety and traffic of the main drag through town. The sidewalk disappeared, and a path through the underbrush bordering the narrow road funneled them toward home. One lonely streetlight a block away beckoned through the inky night.

“Something feels wrong, Keira. I don’t like this street.”

"Can't live your life being afraid, Li'l," Keira said calmly. She scuffed a toe in the dirt and kicked a dislodged rock. Something rustled in the brush as they passed—a small animal, perhaps, disturbed by their passage. "When it's your time to go, it's your time to go. No amount of scurrying around in fear will change that."

"You fatalist! Caution isn't the same as fear, and you know it," Kylee scolded. "This demon isn't the same as other soul-stealers. He smells recklessness and hones in on it. I've told you this a hundred times. If you keep your wits about you and take proper precautions, you can elude him."

"Oh, why do you want me to wear that silly amulet you found in Mama’s jewelry box? It’s clunky and ugly, and doesn't go with any of my clothes."

"But that amulet will protect you against this creep! I can protect myself from him with my faith, but you can't! You have to wear it; you can hide it under your shirt. Why won’t you listen to me for once? Evil forces work beyond this dimension; beings are trying to break through the circle of life and enter our world. And they're up to no good." Kylee shook her head. Would she ever convince her sister that demons and ghosts were real?

"Blah blah blah. Whatever you see in that dreamy head of yours doesn't make it real. It's only real to you." Keira picked up a stick and began whacking the branches of a low-hanging tree as they walked.

"I can't explain it, Keirs. I just know what I feel. The ShadowEater is out there. And he likes identical twins. Remember the Mason boys from a year ago? Over in Gardiner?"

Keira rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, they weren’t mirrors, and they got caught messing around in the old gravel pit. Everybody knows not to go out there. And anyway, they caught the guy that did it. It was the caretaker."

“I’m not so sure he’s guilty. I still think the ShadowEater got ‘em. Please wear the amulet? Mom said it has special Heavenly protective powers. Promise me you’ll wear it when you go out?"

"Okay, okay. Get off my back about it, will ya? It's in the shoebox at home. I'll put it on later."

A shapeless form stood fifty yards ahead of them, in the shadows of the moss-draped oak tree across from the Jimmy Carter Elementary School both girls had attended. Kylee saw the dark outline of his menace even through the gloom. She stopped and grabbed Keira's elbow.

"Wait," she warned. "Did you see that?"

"What? See what?"

"That dude. He was standing right there." Kylee pointed at the school’s fence.

"Nope. Didn't see no dude, no boogieman, no ghosts. You're doing it again." Keira took off running across the deserted road toward the streetlight. "Race ya!" she hollered. "Last one to touch the light pole does dishes for a week!"

"Wait Keira! Stay out of the light! I mean it!”

***

The light. Always the light. As Kylee regained consciousness, a bright yellow glare exploded behind her eyeballs like a halogen headlamp through the fog. Something kicked her side; she recoiled and turned her head, retching on the sawdust covered cement floor. Cold, she felt so cold.

"Good. You're still alive," a disembodied voice said. “I have plans for you, and I need you alive.” She heard footsteps fading away. The flickering firelight dimmed.

A high-pitched metallic noise penetrated her brain with drill-like precision, like the sharpening of lawnmower blades in her dad’s shop. She shivered. She struggled to her hands and knees, slipping and sliding in something slick and glutinous on the floor, trying to escape that awful shrieking.

The sound stopped momentarily. When she opened her eyes again, it took a few moments for her mind to register her surroundings. She didn't understand. Was she dreaming? Her hand flew to her temple where an ugly gash throbbed. She winced, feeling a tender goose egg forming.

Kylee blinked, seeing orange, glowing, flickering firelight. Several torches flared around a circular room about twenty feet in diameter. Dark red colored everything – tables, walls, floors, even the cone-shaped ceiling as she craned her neck upwards. Where am I?

My sister! Where is Keira? Kylee's frantic eyes searched the small room, looking for her twin. She frowned heavily, forcing her eyes to focus in the dim light.

Good God in Heaven, NO!

Across the room, next to a table where a black-clad man worked, Keira’s body slumped carelessly atop a large barrel, her beautiful long hair hanging off the side. It looked wet. Her throat gaped open like a vulgar mouth as her lifeblood trickled down the inside of the barrel. How much blood would it take to fill such a huge barrel? Kylee wondered irrationally.

Kylee's chest constricted in agony for her beloved sister. She'd combed that hair into a carefree ponytail mere hours ago. She remembered her sitting in front of their shared dressing table, laughing, telling some dumb joke. Keira's arms had gracefully lifted her mass of shining curls and twisted, securing the strands with a scrunchie.

"Think the boys will look at me now?" she'd teased, posing with a provocative pout. Kylee just laughed and made some comment about how the boys at school always gaped at her. Keira had always been boy crazy, ever since the second grade.

Kylee watched wide-eyed as the man tested the sharpened blade–some sort of machete or long knife—against his thumb. He hesitated and turned to glare at Kylee huddled against the far curved wall. She glimpsed a scaly flat face, the face of a serpent, before the shadows obscured his image.

Kylee stared back with hatred so thick, he could have cut it with his forked tongue. The man had on some sort of hooded coat or cloak, his face in the shadows, but his eyes came alive with the light of the torches illuminating the room. Fiery eyes from the depths of Hell.

"Watch." he whispered.

He turned toward Keira’s body draped over the barrel. His long black coat swirled with eager anticipation, and Kylee glimpsed claws where his feet should have been. He grasped Keira's limp carcass around the waist and flopped her atop the table, flinging blood in every direction from the gash in her throat. A huge droplet of warm blood hit Kylee smack on her cheekbone and splashed in her eye.

No no no no nooooo!

He began hacking at Keira's neck with the instrument as if to remove her head entirely. Kylee couldn't look. She tried to scream, but the terror constricting her chest prevented all but a guttural groan. She had to get out of here! This wasn't happening—not to her, not to her sister. Beloved Keira, comic, romantic, adorable, exasperating Keira. Who would be there to make her laugh and wipe her tears?

Somewhere Kylee had lost her shoes. Her bare feet dangled out the bottom of her jeans. She struggled to her feet, slipped and fell hard on one knee, hearing the crack of her kneecap shattering. A lance of agony rocketed through her leg and forced a moan from her throat. The demon turned to look at the sound, then chuckled and turned back to the grisly task of dismembering her sister's body. The band saw started and the grinding and ripping of bones bolted through her head. She clapped her hands over her ears to block out the reverberation.

Kylee suddenly glanced at her hands, wondering why they felt so sticky against her head. The warm, slick red substance coating her hands brought an icy dread to the pit of her stomach. Lurching, she fought the nausea and laid her head against the wall, recoiling immediately as she understood the red paint wasn’t paint at all, but more blood. Trapped in a veritable pit of gore, she wondered, How many other people had he slaughtered in here?

"Keep your wits about you, Kylee," her dad always said. "There are bad things out there." She stuffed her screaming panic into a separate part of her brain, slammed the door, and tried to think. She shook her head violently, trying to erase the awful sights and sounds.

Along with the high-pitched whine of the saw assaulting her ears, a disgusting smell assailed her nostrils. Sulphuric, metallic, caustic. The acrid perfume of the ShadowEater. The hot fumes burned her nose and throat, and she coughed and spit. The undertones of sweet blood and pungent death roiled in her gut. She'd smelled bad things before, like when her daddy left the bathroom after a bad night of drinking, or a road-killed ‘possum rotting and maggot-covered in the street. This was different. She could only imagine how a sewer or a morgue might smell, but this had to be worse. She knew this nauseating scent would dwell in her memory until the end of her days. Which might be today, she thought, if I don't get out of here.

Wiping her gore-covered hands on her tank top, her wide-eyed gaze darted around the room, looking for an escape. One door, padlocked and windowless, occupied the far wall. She'd have to go past the man to get to it. And how would a skinny 15-year-old girl open a padlocked door? No escape there. She noticed fifty-gallon barrels, like the kind industrial chemicals come in, surrounding the bench holding his saws and tools. She wondered at their contents, then decided she’d rather not know after seeing her sister’s blood dripping into one of them.

She looked behind her towards the ceiling. A metal vent, most likely for fresh air, sat about halfway up the wall—a small 12" square, too high for her to reach without aid. Screws secured each corner, regardless.

Her gaze dropped to the drain in the floor; dead center in the middle and covered with a circular grate. A trickle of bloody water swirled and disappeared through the holes. Her only chance lay down that sickening pipe.

The saw jerked and stopped its grinding and crunching. The man examined the blade and made a few adjustments. He then turned back to the body of her sister, a large serrated hunting knife in hand, like the kind her dad used to gut a deer. He began to mumble something and she had to strain to hear what he said.

“Eight pairs of heads, I need eight pairs of identical heads. Perfect symmetry in human beings like these two is hard to find. I almost had them two years ago, and would have, too, if their infernal mother had stayed out of it. These girls are the perfect mirrored twins to form the cornerstone of my Octoret. The power gained from the perfect number of eight doubled will generate a bolt strong enough to rent the veil. Lucifer’s soldiers will escape, and the earth will be mine to control! Nothing can stop me now!” He cackled and threw his head back, the light from the torches giving his black eyes an evil yellow glow.

Kylee butt-scooted closer to the drain, keeping an eye on the creature in black. He never looked up from the grisly task at hand, and never shut up, yammering on about his overwhelming responsibilities as a Guardian, how Lucifer constantly berated him, offering a whole tirade of complaints and bitching to nobody in particular. Seeing as Kylee’s ears heard every word, she guessed he relished an audience for his kvetching when he waved his wicked knife about as emphasis. Kylee almost wished he’d turn the saw back on rather than listen to his gravelly voice one more second.

Her new position in the center of the room gave her a different perspective on what he was doing to her sister's body. The sight of Keira’s bowels lying haphazardly across the tabletop coerced Kylee's stomach contents to rebel, and she fell on the grate and vomited. The killer turned his hooded head in her direction, appeared to chuckle, then resumed his duties.

When her stomach spasms subsided and she regained control of her faculties, her eyes devoured the logistics of the drain cover. No bolts. Good. She scuffed the heel of her hand against it, and it shifted ever so slightly. Kylee felt a zing of confidence. She eyed the circumference of the drainpipe and tried to transcribe the circle to the width of her hips and shoulders. She had no way of telling how much the drain widened beyond the grill, or even if she'd fit her slender frame into the hole, but she had to try. It looked barely big enough. She'd have to take off her pants; she didn’t want to get hooked on anything. The ShadowEater presented his back, his hooded head lowered, mumbling and intent on his business.

NOW!

In one quick move, she slicked off her jeans and yanked open the heavy metal drain cover, ripping a fingernail to the quick. The man turned at the sound of her involuntary painful curse. Swiftly, she slid her bare feet into the pipe, then her hips. They fit. The bloody slime inside the pipe aided her passage. She propped her elbows against the rim, then raised her arms high over her head and held her breath as she let go. She heard the ShadowEater bellow some unintelligible language as he lunged for her long flowing hair, the last of her to disappear down the hole. A sharp tug on her head brought her free-fall to an abrupt halt as the demon's hand found purchase.

Kylee screamed, "NOOOOO!" and yanked her hair violently from side to side as far as she could. With barely enough room to wiggle and with her hands above her head, she grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked hard. Once, twice, three times—banging her elbows against the metal pipe.

"Let gooooooo!" Kylee screamed, her voice shaking with rage and desperation. One final yank as a large chunk of her hair pulled from her scalp, and freedom at last. Grateful his blood-slickened hands lost their purchase, Kylee felt her body slip through the pipe once more. Serves him right.

The butcherous predator roared his outrage at losing his prey. The echo of his bellow and the anguish it contained as she flung herself through the unknown would haunt Kylee's dreams for years to come.

The pipe widened gradually from the opening, and she found herself falling through free space for a brief time before landing on her tailbone with a splash on a sloped portion of pipe draining away from the silo.

More and more odorous liquid rapidly filled the pipe, but not mere sewer water. Every farm in the countryside hooked into this main sewer system, and people weren’t particular about what they flushed down their storm drains. Flotsam and jetsam of every sort mixed with raw farm sewage rapidly propelled her along, twisting her body face down. Debris slapped at her flailing arms and legs and a sharp shard of metal sliced her thigh. Kylee fought to get her head above the vile stew, gasping for breath with every ounce of her being. It wouldn't do to drown in here like this. Not now.

Kylee wrenched herself onto her back and forced herself to maintain a semi-sitting posture, hurtling feet first through a river of unspeakable gore. Faster and faster she went, remembering the river-rafting trip her dad took Keira and her on last summer. "Keep your feet up, Kylee!" her dad had hollered. "Bend your knees and let your butt do the steering!" She recalled those words, bent her knees and let her butt do the steering. She wrapped her arms close to her chest to keep them from getting ripped open by the rivets in the corrugated pipe. Fear of contaminating her eyes kept them shut, and the overpowering smell of farm refuse made her nauseated. Animal urine, feces, ground-up garbage, blood – all combined to create a stench so strong, she feared no amount of showering would ever wash it off.

On and on, the pipe made its inexorable way to some final destination. Where it led, she couldn't speculate. She only hoped it ended soon. She felt woozy and lightheaded from the fumes in the pipe. Periodically, from side pipes every few hundred yards, more watery fluid gushed, knocking her sideways and setting her body swaying with the current. The pain in her injured knee made its presence known with every movement of her leg, and the throbbing lump on the side of her head had given her a killer headache.

To distract herself, she tried to remember where she and her sister went wrong. Why was her memory so fuzzy? She recalled walking home from the movie theater after her father failed to come pick them up. She and Keira had argued. Yes! It all came back to her. Keira, ever the adventurous one, got antsy waiting for their dad to drive the mile to the theater to get them. While walking home, a man had stood near the streetlight in the shadows of the big oak tree.

She remembered the dark, ominous shape lurking there, waiting for them to enter the pool of yellow light from the overhead stanchion. His eyes had glowed orange as if on fire. Merely a reflection from the streetlight, she'd thought at the time. He'd growled something at them. The ShadowEater! The fear of recognition knifed through her. Keira danced off, she recalled, into the circle of amber glow from the streetlight. Oh, why had I let her run off? Why hadn't it been me who ran first into the light? She remembered yelling "NO!" and raced to follow her sister.

Then she woke up in his blood chamber, Keira already dead.

Oh my Heavens! she thought. Keira is dead? Why wouldn't she wear the amulet? A sob broke from her throat and hot tears stung her eyes. Now Keira's exasperating, engaging presence vanished from Kylee's life. How can I go on without my sister? I can't do this alone!

[Don't give up now,] her sister's voice in her head admonished. [Survive, Li'l. Just survive.]

The end of the sewer pipe arrived abruptly. Without warning, Kylee found herself cartwheeling through space, landing with a splash into a pool more foul than she thought existed. She surfaced and swam for her life to avoid a swirling whirlpool, a tornado of smut, in the center of the pond. She pushed feces and assorted disgusting debris aside as she stroked strongly against the vortex. With every kick of her feet, white-hot shards of pain ricocheted from her broken kneecap straight to her traumatized brain. She fought to keep her head above the thick glop.

Ahead, she saw a wispy silhouette of Keira standing on the bank holding something in her hand. She called out to Kylee, but her jumbled brain refused to cooperate and make sense of what she said. She forced herself to ignore the agony and continued to swim until she reached the grassy slope. Kylee fisted herself onto the rough sawgrass and passed out.

***

The sewage treatment plant workers found her on the edge of the containment pond two hours later, her battered and broken body covered in raw sewage. Around her neck on a slim leather thong gleamed a triangular-shaped golden amulet with a center stone of pure amber, her ghostly sister’s attempt to protect her.

The police followed the sewer line back to the unused corn silo the killer had used. He was gone, of course, just like every trace of Keira’s body. The farmer who owned the silo eventually bulldozed the bloody site and burned every board and barrel. The authorities continued hunting for the monster who slaughtered her sister, but the trail soon went ice cold. He may be out there still, stalking his victims. He may kill individuals for pure entertainment, but he derives his power from that rare human entity—mirrored identical twins. And he's searching for Kylee to fulfill a mandate straight from Lucifer himself.

CHAPTER ONE

Ten Years Later

[Now don't get your panties in a wad, but…he's back.]

Tanner Montgomery, pride of the Washington D.C. FBI, plopped his big body wearily into his sleek black recliner, relishing his favorite Saturday night supper—a contraband bucket of the Colonel’s finest Extra Crispy, a tub of mashed ‘taters and some coleslaw and biscuits. White food, all of it, and his training forbade such fat-laden meals, but once in a while he had to indulge or bust. A brand-new Civil War novel rested face down on the chrome-and-glass coffee table next to his cell phone. Between his heavy case load and juggling the jealous demands of two lawyers he’d dated once or twice who refused to back off, he finally looked forward to his first free evening in weeks to read it.

Everything Civil War-related intrigued him, from the politics of the day to the furnishings in the antebellum mansions. He even dreamed of fighting a battle as a great Civil War general, always for the underdog, the South. He didn’t condone the slavery practices of the time; rather he lamented the loss of an entire genteel lifestyle of plantation living. If he believed in reincarnation, which he didn’t, he’d swear he lived it all before. He took plenty of gentle ribbing from his co-workers about his fascination with antique furniture, but everyone knew not to cross that certain line between teasing and ridicule. Not with him.

His mother owned the blame for his love of antiques, dragging her young son all over New England searching out those rare finds. The habit stuck.

Years later, Tanner would remember this evening sitting in his chic bachelor apartment in Georgetown as the beginning. The beginning of his salvation.

The phone rang, sending the cell chattering across the smoked glass. Tanner's heart skipped a beat and the adrenalin immediately flowed. Charlie, his partner, knew not to call him except in an emergency.

"B’fore y’all start yellin’ at me for interruptin’ yer down time—we found a bad one, Boss. Me and that new recruit, Jimmy somethin’-or-other, responded to the call. You remember that abandoned missile silo out past the Donner estate? It’s a bloody mess. The local cops found a kid this time, prolly one of them Meadows twins that up and went missin’ a week ago. They called us ‘cause of the interstate aspect seein’ as them kids was kidnapped from Maryland."
"She dead?"

"Yeah, so gray you almost can't tell 'er from the hook she's impaled on."

"A hook? Does this child at least have her head?”

“Nope. Sorry, Boss.”

“Good Lord, what kind of monster would do that to little girls? How did you find her?"
"A coupla teenagers lookin’ for a place to make out stumbled onto the scene. They broke into the old place and found this horrifin’ slaughter. Damn near gave 'em a heart attack. They both got hauled off by the EMTs in shock."

"Charlie, call CSI and get them over there. I don't want anyone to take a step into that place without forensics going over every inch."

"Already done, Boss."

"And don't call me Boss!" Tanner snarled, too late for his annoyance to register with Charlie; he’d already hung up.

Tanner threw his uneaten chicken into the fridge, jumped into his department-issue blue Dodge and raced to the scene, lights flashing and siren blaring.

***

The little girl’s naked, headless body lay grotesquely slumped against one wall, arms and legs flopped like a rag doll. Tanner gazed at the small lifeless corpse and felt a premonition. He’d just entered one of the most bizarre crime scenes he'd ever come across, and he'd seen plenty in his fifteen years with the Special Homicide Section. Shootings, stabbings, kidnapping and rapes, mass murders, drowning, even some woman who got pushed from an airplane with no parachute. Interesting crime scene, that one. You name it, he processed it. But nothing like this.

The room dwarfed his frame as he looked up, and up, and up, into the immense space of the missile silo. The round killing-room had been lined with bricks of some intermingled color, a cross between brown and rust. The cement floor beneath Tanner's feet crunched with drying blood and gore like a slaughterhouse he’d once chased some thug into. Hooks lined one side of the room, coated with dried blood, and a long curved table crouched along the opposite side. He noticed three fifty-gallon drums stacked in a neat pyramid as if awaiting a giant carnival ball to topple them to the floor. Seeing as the second girl’s body hadn’t yet been found, he speculated on what they might contain and his heart sank.

The forensics team busied themselves with collecting samples about the room, ignoring the little girl for now. She’d have to wait for the coroner. At least the CSI team had finished processing her and had taken her off the hook embedded in her back, but they didn't seem concerned with the position they'd left her, technically so much evidence now. They didn't even cover her up for fear of contaminating the scene. The sight of the naked, decapitated little girl brought unexpected hot tears to the back of his eyeballs, but he’d never let his men see his distress. She reminded him of his own dead twin girls killed in a boating accident several years ago. He had to turn away.

Charlie appeared at his side. "No footprints in here, Boss. With all this blood on the floor, why no footprints?"

Tanner looked at him and shrugged. In all his years of homicide investigation, he'd never seen a crime scene as brutal as this one. He wandered about the room, careful not to touch anything, even with gloved hands. On the massive concrete table at the far side of the room lay an array of bloody surgical instruments and cutting tools. Every sort of scalpel, knife, and saw imaginable gleamed with the wink of cold steel. At the far end of the table, a huge grinder attached to the thick slab with a giant clamp and heavy bolts.

Tanner strode to the grinder, a sick feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. What on earth have we uncovered here? he thought. As he peered into the maw of the chopper, he noticed bits of bone and flesh stuck among the blades. He gagged, nausea pushing the bile up his throat to grate at the back of his tongue. He’d investigated some pretty gruesome crime scenes before, but this one took the cake. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, embarrassed he let this crime get to him.

He’d seen enough inside the silo, needing some fresh air. Leaving the cleanup to the CSI guys who did this day after day, he stepped outside and breathed hungrily of the crisp October air. After a while, the smell got to him but nothing seemed to faze those guys, even though the perpetrator of this horror made Jeffrey Dahmer look like a choirboy.

***

Hours later, back at the morgue, Tanner stared at the headless body of the ten-year-old girl who’d suffered the most torturous of deaths. The killer drained every drop of blood from her body, as if to prepare her for dismemberment. Blackened clots streaked the stump of her neck and oozed onto the autopsy table. An identical twin, Darcy Meadows would never again enjoy a hug from her mom or the excitement of a soccer game with her schoolmates. He shook his head with revulsion and disgust. So damned unnecessary, unfair, and downright bizarre.

“Is this Darcy or Devin, Joe?”

“Too soon to tell. I’ll have to wait for their parents to arrive. Even DNA won’t help. They’re identical.”

"Did you find any trace of her twin?" Tanner asked the coroner, a portly gray-haired man called in specifically to do this autopsy. The legendary Joseph Zachary, semi-retired, performed more autopsies than Tanner wanted to think about. As one of Tanner’s professors in college for his required anatomy class, they struck up a friendship which lasted through the years.

"Not exactly. They found a cache of body parts in one of those barrels, awaiting disposal. Some of 'em are bound to be the missing girl." Joe spat and motioned to where two large barrels in the corner awaited his examination. "What kind of monster does this to little kids? And then carts their body parts from place to place?" Even Joe appeared stunned at the depravity on his table.

"Which of her horrible wounds killed her?" Tanner asked.

"Exsanguination," Joe stated flatly. "She bled to death. Somebody stuck a big old needle in her carotid artery and drained every drop, then whacked her head off with what looks like a machete." He shined a light at the stump of her neck. “Either this guy was really, really angry, or really, really bad at this.”

"Judging from the amount of blood on the floor and walls of that silo, I pick both. It takes a certain level of depravity to do this, and it looked like he decorated with gore. Not the brightest egg in a dozen."

"Did you find any evidence of a perp?"

Tanner shook his head. "See, that’s the thing. Not a single forensic trace of him. Not even a fingerprint! In a room off the main tower, we found an old duct-taped leather recliner and a bunch of newspapers. Like someone sat there and read them. Creepy. Slaughter a bunch of kids and then go read the paper."

"How does a guy sit and read and leave no prints? It don't make no sense, Tanner."

"Nothing makes much sense in this. How does someone walk in blood and leave no footprints? There's gotta be an explanation! I just found out this is the fourth set of identical twins to disappear across the country in a year, but this little girl is the first body the authorities ever found. Makes you wonder if those teenagers looking for a hook-up may have interrupted him. We almost had him."

"Yeah, I betcha he's still right here in this town. Those kids cut short his mission, whatever his mission is. Takes a mighty evil sucker to do this."

"We'll get him, Joe," Tanner vowed. "If it's the last thing we ever do. This case is now priority one."

***

The reek of leaking oil woke Kylee just after eight o’clock when the fumes crept up the garage steps and into the house. When she raced downstairs and saw the mess the water heater left sometime in the night, her heart sank. The standing water in the garage shined with oil from a half-empty drum knocked over when the water heater burst.

Why didn't Keira warn me about this? she groused as she surveyed the damage. Then she got angry at herself. Her chronic procrastination jumped up and bit her on the butt this time. Why hadn't she taken the time last Saturday morning and installed the new one? The brand-new water heater she'd charged on her nearly maxed-out Visa sat in a gigantic cardboard box not three feet from the old one. She stomped her foot in frustration. The smell from the spilled oil made her sick to her stomach. She always knew that oil barrel the previous owners left here spelled trouble. She hated barrels! I meant to have that thing hauled away, I really did, she told herself. “Now look at this mess!” she groused out loud.

She called a plumber and when her doorbell rang an hour later, she thought how nice and prompt! Phone-book plumbers don't usually respond so quickly. A chink in the wall of her irritation opened. Something had to go right today. She eagerly yanked open the door—and her jaw dropped.

A man in a dark suit and crisp white shirt, possibly the most beautiful human God ever made, stood on her porch. Kylee looked up, and up, and up, finally to his crowning glory. Scruffy short dark hair, gray streaked at the temples, tumbled haphazardly across his forehead to frame ice blue eyes that dang near pierced her skull.

Holy cow. Her mouth fell open. She felt a strange urge to run her fingers through those sexy curls.

"Miss Kylee Madison?" the god’s full lips asked.

Oh—my—Heavens. He smiled at her in a slightly predatory way, taking her aback. A quirk at one corner of his mouth tugged a slight dimple into view along one cheek. She tilted her head and stared at the way it curved into his model-perfect face.

Kylee yanked her stare back into her head and found her composure. "Um, it's this way, please." She turned on her heel, hoping the vision would follow her. He did. She marched through the dining room, suddenly self conscious of the karate uniform she wore. She felt more like a beanpole in baggy sheets than a grown woman. A tight bun crowned her head, making her feel unattractive and plain for the first time in her life. She never worried about her looks before! Keira owned the vanity queen label, not her. What was wrong with her?

She tugged her black belt tighter and yanked open the inner door connecting the house to the garage, currently a foot deep in water at the sloped back end. As she made her way down three short steps and onto a dry portion of the painted cement floor, she glanced up and looked out the open door of the garage to the gravel road serving as her driveway. She noticed a dark blue Dodge Diplomat sitting at the edge of her parking strip out front. Strange vehicle for a plumber, she thought. A gray-haired middle-aged man stood by the driver’s side door, lazily smoking a cigarette.

She turned around as the beautiful plumber’s expensive oxblood Italian loafers stepped carefully to join her on the dry spot.

"As you can see, it's a mess. I have class in exactly half an hour and I don't have time to clean this up. Can you get it drained and install my new water heater?" She pointed at the hulking box recriminating her. "I know I should have done this sooner, but I've been so busy with a new routine for my students. We’ve got to practice for graduation coming up…” She looked up at a cat clock on the wall with its tail slashing to and fro. “I'm really rushed for time today, because I have fifteen six-year-olds coming for class soon and I just can't have this…."

"Miss—MISS! Please calm down. First—no, I can't clean this up…"

"But you don't understand! I can't have students trudging through this mess! The entrance to my dojo is down those stairs, and the water is about to get in there!" Kylee pointed to a darkened stairway off to one side of the garage. The bonus of the basement space was a major selling point when Kylee bought this hulking Victorian monstrosity sitting on a bluff in Port Gamble overlooking the Hood Canal. It gave her a perfect place to convert to her martial arts studio—the dojo she'd scrimped and saved to create her entire adult life. A dojo currently in grave danger of flooding and totally destroying her whole livelihood.

“Ahh! Of course! Your studio! I knew that. You’re some sort of martial arts teacher, right?”

The pipes behind the water heater suddenly burst, spraying water in a wide arc and drenching both of them. "Do something!" Kylee shrieked, using her hands as a shield.

"But…"

"NO BUTS! I have students coming! For the love of God, just do it!"

The man's eyebrows lowered and his arctic eyes narrowed. A flicker of consideration glanced off his chiseled face. For a moment she thought he might strike her from the flexing of his jaw muscles and the way his fists clenched involuntarily. Ha! Let him try.

As she stepped briskly aside to avoid the spray, she planted her feet and glowered at him, her arms akimbo. "Hurry!"

The beautiful but now angry-looking man ducked under the violent spray of water and waded through the muck in his very expensive shoes. Kylee couldn't help snickering to herself. What kind of idiot wears Italian loafers on a job site? He turned off the tap behind the water heater, getting a face full of icy water with each crank of the knob. Finally, the water pressure slowed and the arc ceased, sinking back into itself like a graceful sprite.

He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket as he wiped his face with a clean shop towel she tossed him. "Give me thirty minutes," he snapped as he splashed through the mess and out the open garage door, ripping off his soaked burgundy silk tie as he crossed the yard. Kylee giggled. She raced down the stairs to her studio, putting mats and other crucial items up in case any running water made it that far.

***

Thirty minutes later, true to his word, as she came upstairs she noticed the standing water had disappeared. Two men she’d never seen before, not nearly as attractive as their leader, swept the bags of sawdust she’d been saving for mulch over the oil slick left behind. The brand-new hot water heater had shed its cardboard skin and stood naked, submitting meekly to having its pipes greased and threaded by the gray-haired smoker she’d seen out on the parking strip earlier, his suit jacket off and his sleeves rolled up. She'd never seen such well-groomed plumbers!

Kylee smiled at the tall, handsome man's efficiency—obviously their supervisor—then began greeting her students as they arrived, ushering them quickly past the men working. On a whim, she winked at their tall, dark-haired boss standing in the framework of the open garage door and mouthed a quick thank you as she passed. She was promptly startled with a wide grin of Colgate intensity.

***

Just before two o’clock, after the last student left and she'd finally gotten a lukewarm shower—her first one of the day, thanks to that dang water heater—Kylee sank onto her sofa and flipped on the TV. She rapidly channel surfed until a program on Court TV caught her eye. Enmeshed in the tales of murder, jealousy and revenge on Forensic Files, she made a mental note to add this program to her TiVo season pass.

The doorbell rang and she hit the pause button.

"Ma'am, you called a plumber?" said the beefy man standing on her porch as she opened the door. He wore low-slung Levi's and a dirty white tee-shirt stretched across his impressive belly. She imagined the beer intake it took to maintain that gut. Zowie.

"Huh?” Kylee looked at the man, frowning in confusion.

"Water heater? You wanted one installed?" the unappealing man said.

"Um, noooo. Doo dah! You installed it this morning. Your company sent out a plumber very promptly after I called…." Kylee struggled to keep the sarcasm from her voice.

"We didn't install anything yet, lady. Do you want it hooked up or not?"

"I just told you the water heater was already installed this morning. I don't understand. Who were those well-dressed plumbers, then? Who installed it and cleaned up my garage if your company didn't?" Kylee fumed. This got weirder and weirder.

"I have no idear." He actually said it with an "r" on the end, one of Kylee's top pet peeves. She frowned and bit her tongue. He obviously didn’t come from around here.

The man shifted his toolbox to his left hand. "If ya don’t need me then, I’ll be on m’ way. Good day, Miss." He touched the brim of his baseball cap, turned and presented his enormous backside to her as he waddled to the white panel truck in her driveway emblazoned with Dick's Plumbing on the side. It should have said Butt Cracks 'R Us.

Kylee went upstairs, puzzlement crinkling her forehead. "Keira!" she hollered. "I need you!" She walked into her bedroom, opened the closet and flipped on the light. "Come out of there. I need to talk to you."

Keira floated to the plaid-upholstered wicker chair in the corner. [What is it, Li’l?] she said without moving her mouth. She settled into the chair, becoming fuller with each breath.
"Hurry up and fill in! I need you whole and completely here! Why didn't you tell me about the water heater?" Kylee accused.

[Didn’t know about it. I’m in a fog of ghostly limbo, you know. I don’t know everything just because I’m a spirit. I’m on a need-to-know basis with Heaven while I’m here. But none of that matters right now.] Keira shrugged her shoulders and scowled. [We have more important things to discuss.]

"Yeah? Like what? Like the fact you’re keeping things from me? You know more than you let on. And why did I get two plumbers today, as opposite as night and day? Were you trying to send me some kind of message?" Kylee felt the irritation rising in her like an itch. She didn't bother to ask herself why she felt so irritated. She slugged a pillow instead. This whole day had been a nightmare so far. "You could have told me!"

[Calm down, Li’l. I do have something to tell you. Forget the plumbing for a minute.]

"I am calm!” She threw the pillow across the room where it thwacked solidly against the wall. “What? Tell me what?"

[Now don't get your panties in a wad, but…he's back.]

A chill coursed down Kylee's back. "What do you mean, 'he's back'? Who's back?"

[HE'S back. The ShadowEater.]

Terror struck Kylee numb, dumb and immobile, and she flopped backwards onto her large four-poster bed, the images of the day her sister died rushing through her mind. She remembered the moment she’d laid eyes on that demon for the first time. She took a deep breath before she could talk. "Bullcrap, Keirs. You're not even here. You're a figment of my imagination. You're just my fear talking."

[I'm as real as you are, Li’l.]

Ding-dong!

"Crap, now what?" Kylee said. "Grand Central Station around here today." In a huff, she bounded down the stairs two at a time and flung open the door.

CHAPTER TWO

“Get out of my house.”

That plumber again. Not the fat ugly one, the tall handsome one. Adonis once more stood on her stoop.

"Well, flip me over and paint me blue! It's you! I have some questions for you, Mister. Oh wait; you probably need money for the plumbing. Let me go get my checkbook." Kylee wheeled and crossed the foyer before he could say two words. He stepped inside and shut the door.

"Um, Miss Madison?"

She whirled, her hands trembling. "How much is it? I don't have a lot of money, so I hope the estimate they gave me over the phone is accurate. I'd hate to get rooked because I had an emergency. I've heard of plumbers who gouge homeowners all the time, but I'll let you know right now I'm no naïve girl to be taken advantage of…"

"Miss Madison, please. Can you stop talking and moving around so much? Do you ever light in one place?" His dark eyebrows sank as if torpedoed.

Scribbling on a check, Kylee stopped dead in her tracks and looked up at the calendar model standing in her foyer. "What? How much should I make this check out for? I hope you did a good job on the water heater because I need my hot water! I do so love my hot showers every day…then there's all the laundry I do with my students' white uniforms…I really needed that thing…I can't thank you enough for being so prompt…."

In one leonine smooth move, he crossed the foyer and clamped a hand a bit too forcefully over her mouth and the other on the back of her head. "I am not a damned plumber…."

Kylee looked up into those cerulean eyes, stunned to her core at his velvet violence. Stupidly, she thought his hand smelled like aftershave and cigarettes, an odd combination. Before he uttered another word, her outrage surfaced at being manhandled and she jerked aside, forcing his hand off her mouth. An elbow to the solar plexus and a sweep of her other arm around his neck laid his impressive bulk prone on the hardwood floor. She nailed him down with a knee to his chest.

"Who the heck are you and what do you want?"

"Easy, Ninja! FBI, ma'am. Special Agent Tanner Montgomery, and I'm investigating a murder case. Ughhh. You might prove crucial in finding the killer." He huffed the words out with difficulty. With a mighty shove, he pushed her backwards off his chest. As he got to his feet, he actually had the balls to start chuckling.

She landed on her butt and sprang to her feet, cheeks blazing with embarrassment. "What? You're FBI? OH, I'm so sorry! It's just…nobody ever touches me like that. Nobody! You got it?"

"I apologize for laying my hands on you, Miss Madison, but you wouldn't shut up long enough for me to tell you who I am." He shrugged his shoulders, reseating his jacket. He reached for his badge in the inside pocket and flipped it open to her view.

She glanced at his badge, then looked up into those icy blue eyes. "If you're FBI, then why did you install my hot water heater?"

"If you remember, you didn't give me much choice in the matter, did you?" he deadpanned. He shrugged at her with a gleam in his eye. "You were desperate. I'm a sucker for a maiden in distress."

The look on his face suggested to her he’d like to do more than rescue this maiden. Kylee tugged at the bottom of her tank top in an effort to cover her exposed belly button, suddenly embarrassed to have this man see her so disheveled. She'd thrown on her peach low-rise sweats and an old white tank top after class, and her long auburn hair tumbled wildly, still damp from her shower. She didn't even have a bra on. She must look awful. She smiled at him self-consciously. He, on the other hand, stood before her impeccably dressed in a gray pinstriped suit and mauve striped tie, grinning like a Cheshire. In her panic at the time, it didn’t even dawn on her that the man wasn’t carrying a tool box, like that other plumber, the real one. She suddenly remembered his ruined shoes. Oh, she should have known a plumber wouldn't wear Italian loafers!

She looked at his feet. He had yet another pair of expensive loafers on, these ones black suede. She suspected he owned more. She felt so stupid.

She glanced up, and up, into those eyes. "Then who were all those workers?”

He smiled mysteriously, flashing that dimple, his eyes twinkling.

“They were FBI, too? You mean I had FBI agents here all morning doing plumbing for me?" Her cheeks flamed scarlet once more. "Now I'm doubly embarrassed. Again, I'm sorry, Agent…?"

"Montgomery. But call me Tanner. Not much on titles." He grinned at her with a wink as his dimple deepened. He stood a little taller and his chest puffed out even further, straining the buttons across his broad chest.

Oh-my-Heavens. The radiance of his smile increased her embarrassment, but put a glow in the pit of her stomach. This irritating man drove her nuts with his impolite leering. How does one go about learning how to leer at someone while making them enjoy it?

"I merely called in a favor with a couple of the local agents."

"So, how much do I owe you?" she asked, picking up the pen again to keep her mind from straying toward the gutter.

"Not a dime. I did you a favor. Now you can help me."

"You’re investigating a…a murder case you say? How could I possibly help you?"

"Let’s sit for a bit. I'll explain."

He didn’t wait for her to lead him to the parlor but strode right through the foyer, into the parlor and parked his butt on a stiff antique horsehair loveseat. She chose a flowered chair directly opposite as he pulled out a small notebook and fished for a pen in his pocket, like an old-fashioned gumshoe reporter. Had he heard the term ‘Blackberry’?

"Now, can I get you a cup of tea or something to drink? I have ice water and some fresh lemonade in the fridge. I’m sorry I don’t have coffee—I don’t drink it."

"No, thanks. I'm fine. I just have a few questions."

"How can I help you?"

"You had an identical twin, did you not?" he began.

Kylee stiffened. Her heartbeat started thumping heavily at the very idea of discussing her murdered sister. Nobody had mentioned Keira in a long time. They knew better. As she clamped her mouth shut in sudden uncharacteristic silence, he continued.

"Over the last year, there have been several murders of identical twins in the Midwest, very similar to what you and your sister went through. I pulled your file, along with others from ten years ago. You are the sole survivor of these killings. You were, what—barely sixteen? I need to know how and why you alone survived."

No, she thought. You don't. "Get out of my house."

Tanner flipped through his notebook, but looked up at her sudden order, surprise on his face. Kylee leapt from her seat and strode across the parlor to the foyer, angrier than she'd felt in a long time. She would not talk about that time in her life, not even with this good-looking stranger, nor would she share anything about her sister's death with him. She couldn't. Even thinking about it made her crazy.

"Please leave." She held the door open and stood there, anxiously twisting a long strand of her hair.

He stood up and crossed into the foyer. "Miss Madison, I understand your reluctance to talk about this, but it's crucial to the investigation. What you remember may help catch this guy."

"My sister and I were abducted by a vicious killer. I survived. She didn't. That's all you need to know. Please…." She motioned a hand out the door.

Tanner looked pained by the rolling of his eyes, but obeyed her order. He handed her his business card as he left. "If you change your mind, I could use your help. Anything you can remember about this guy might help us catch him and keep other kids safe. Call me anytime, night or day."

"Thank you for installing my hot water heater. And I'm truly sorry about your shoes and your suit. Send me a bill. Good afternoon." Kylee slammed the door, punctuating her reluctance to continue talking about a time in her life she'd rather forget.

***

Baffled, Tanner walked out to his car, still hearing the slam of the door behind him. What had caused this knockout to hide her life from the world? He looked back over his shoulder and scratched his head. Kylee Madison would look right at home on a silver screen twelve feet high, but she lived way out here alone in a house big enough for a large family. What possessed her to hide? Who was she hiding from? Her sister's killer?

Charlie stood relaxing against the hood of the Dodge, smoking from a full pack of Marlboro 100s, his only brand. Tanner mostly smoked his. "Y’all done, Boss? Didja get what y'all needed?" he asked, his Alabama accent thick as molasses on sweet potatoes.

Tanner bummed a smoke, inhaled deeply, and walked around to the driver's side. He barked a laugh and said, "Shit, no. She's jumpier than a rabbit in a mascara-testing lab. The little ninja put me on the floor! Can you believe it? That skinny little girl put ME on the floor! You can bet your bottom dollar that won’t happen again." At Charlie's stunned look of disbelief, he continued. "But no, I couldn't get a thing out of her." He climbed in and fired up the engine. "I'll call her tomorrow and see if she's changed her mind. I need to know how she survived."

"Yer shittin’ me, ain’t ya? She put ya on the floor? How? She's half yer size!" Charlie laughed, sliding onto the cloth bench seat.

"I know, but she did. She surprised me, and I wasn’t expecting it. She's some kung fu ninja chick, that's for sure. The FBI should recruit her."

"Y'all sure this is the same killer, Boss?" Charlie asked as the dust roiled behind their car on the gravel road.

"Absolutely." He knifed an irritated glance at Charlie. "And don't call me Boss! The crime scenes, methodology and execution are almost identical in all the twin killings. You can bet on others we haven't found yet. This is the most sadistic killer in American history, and he could soon be the most prolific, too. When the press gets hold of how aggressive this killer is, the public will panic. We have to keep this story under wraps."

"I wonder what that monster wanted with those barrels full of blood and ground-up body parts? What did he do with the contents of those barrels?" Charlie asked, not really expecting an answer.

"He disposed of them somehow. We have to find out where and how. And Miss Kylee-ninja-assassin-Madison is going to help me, come hell or high water."

"And I'm sure you won't mind feastin’ yer eyes on that little hottie again, will ya, Boss?" Charlie teased.

"What are you talking about, Charlie? I have no interest in her other than this case." Tanner snorted his derision.

"Yeah, right. And pigs are sproutin’ wings as we speak. Yer johnson’s gettin’ hard just thinking about 'er." Charlie glanced at Tanner, a lascivious smirk smearing his face. He rubbed his bald head in a lewd manner reminding Tanner of a previous sexual encounter back in Vegas in '03 they each had on different nights with the same hooker.

Tanner said not a word, but as the car met the macadam edge of the highway, he gunned it, squealing the tires. He swung right onto Highway 104 leading back to the dumpy Dungeness Motel in Port Gamble where they were staying, holding his lips in a tight line, his shoulders taut. He pulled a typical Tanner move and floored the gas pedal, sending the Dodge fishtailing across the narrow road at dangerous speeds.

"Slow down, Tanner! For Christ sake, yer gonna wreck us!"

"Oh, relax, Charlie. How long have you been riding with me? Have I ever crashed?"

"Only those three other times, and what do ya make of these?" Charlie pulled a handful of speeding tickets out of the glove box. "Next time, y’all just might get arrested."

"I've got these two things for insurance," Tanner said, pulling his badge out of his pocket, grinning his print-ad smile and drilling a forefinger in his dimple. "Small-town cops melt under this persuasion. Especially the lady cops.” He threw his head back and laughed, easing the speedometer past 80.

"Some of ‘em don’t melt, Tanner. One of these days, y’all’re going to meet the local sheriff, male or female, who refuses to succumb to yer questionable charms. Yer day of reckonin’ is comin’." Charlie spoke sincerely, but he laughed as heartily as Tanner. "Come on, slow down, dude!"

Tanner responded by punching the gas pedal harder. "I’ll reckon them," he said, grinning and grabbing his crotch.

Tanner eased the car down the road and they both lapsed into easy silence as the miles sped by. He drove fast, but he always had complete control of the vehicle. Well, except for that time in Houston. Oh, and that other time in Philadelphia. And that one tiny fender bender in Salt Lake City. Nothing he couldn't handle. He eased up on the gas pedal as they neared the small town. No sense aggravating the local patrol waiting in speed traps.

His thoughts returned to the young lady he'd met this morning, and the comical look on her face when she realized who he was—not a plumber, that's for sure. The thought of Kylee's beautiful body writhing beneath him had stirred him more than once that day. First he found himself mesmerized watching her in her basement studio as she tutored her students. The subtle shift of her toned, athletic muscles beneath her baggy uniform made him rock hard just watching her move. He'd left in a hurry without saying goodbye and took his partner to lunch to get away from there before he did or said something stupid.

The second time was when she pinned him to the floor. He'd shoved her off him before his reaction exceeded her expectations. He smiled, remembering her lush tits pressing against his arm when she nailed him.

Even though Kylee wasn’t that tall, probably 5'8" or thereabouts, weighing in at about 125 and strong as a trained athlete, Tanner suspected she could kick his ass if she put her mind to it. He’d learned enough martial arts to get by in a sticky situation, but despite the best efforts of the instructors at the FBI training center in Quantico, he never got the knack of the discipline. He relied more on his imposing size and his quick mind to get his point across. At 6'4" and 225 lbs., there weren't a lot of people who would cross him.

He had this funny feeling Kylee Madison would. She already had.

***

"NO! I told you, Keira, I can't talk about that night! I never want to visit that nightmare again! I can't!" Kylee's voice rang loud and solitary in her big bedroom.

[You have to, Li’l. He's back.]

"It's too scary. I don't want to relive that night." Kylee curled up on her four-poster and hugged a pillow. Keira's ghost glowered at her from the wicker chair in the corner.

[Just do it. Call him right now. His card is right there on your nightstand. He can help. He's a good man, Li’l. Please! For once in your life, do what I ask!]

"No. Leave me alone. I want to watch TV. You're making me miss my shows." She pushed the remote control button for the TV sitting across the room on her dresser.

[Fine. Watch your stupid TV. You can call him tomorrow. But mark my words, you will call him tomorrow, or I'll haunt you forever!]

"You already haunt me. Go away." Kylee turned up the volume so she wouldn't have to listen to her sister in her head.

[You're attracted to him, aren't you? I think you ought to jump his good-lookin' bones, Li’l. It's been a long time since you got laid.]

"Keira! I'll do no such thing! And so what if he's better looking than George Clooney and Brad Pitt combined? Who wouldn't be attracted to that much man? But there's nothing I'm going to do about it so leave me alone. GO AWAY and shut up!"

[I'm just saying, as guys go, you could do worse.]

"He's probably married anyway. All the good ones are either taken or gay. I'm done with men," Kylee groused.

[Oh save me. You've dated exactly three guys since I died—if you can call that last one a guy. What a wimp! He about cut his own throat the morning I appeared to him in the mirror as he shaved. None of those guys deserves you, I might add. And with that, I'm outta here. I know when I'm not wanted. But I'll be back. Just like HE is.] Keira melted back into the closet and the light went out. The clothes and accessories hanging in the gloomy shadows mocked Kylee's gaze. She jumped up and slammed the closet door.

Sighing heavily, she shut off the TV and sank into the padded window seat. She stared out at the streetlight at the edge of her wide expanse of front lawn. She hadn't wanted the streetlight put there. The county planners put it in. She preferred the dark.

The perfectly round pool of light beneath the streetlight flickered. Kylee shuddered.


CHAPTER THREE

“Even poor Angelina is toast from the stove landing on her."

Kylee bolted upright. Something was wrong. The smell of acrid smoke hit her nostrils.

FIRE!

She sprang out of bed, putting her hand on the closed bedroom door as she’d been taught since childhood. She quickly drew her hand back at the heat radiated there.

She jerked open the closet door. "Oh my Heavens, Keira! The house is on fire! We have to get out of here!" Panic-stricken, barefoot and still in her silky nightgown, Kylee opened the second-story dormer window and crawled out on the roof. From this vantage point, she saw the whole back of the house in flames. As she slid down the front slope of the roof to the eaves, she caught her foot in the gutter, stopping her descent. Whew. I could have broken my neck! Below, the overgrown front yard glistened with dew in the early morning sun.

Kylee crab-crawled across the steeply pitched eaves to crouch directly across from the shed twenty feet down and away in the side yard. Looking behind her as flames broke through the ceiling, she stood up and leapt, blessing every training day she’d suffered through. With a movement to make Jet Lee proud, she landed on her hands and knees, scraping her skin against the rough cedar-shakes. She immediately rolled, fisted the rain gutter and lowered herself gingerly to the ground. As she stood up, scared out of her wits, she looked over just in time to see the dark blue Dodge driven by Tanner Montgomery pull up in front of her house. She stumbled thankfully towards it.

As Tanner got out of his car, she jumped at her savior, latching on to his neck. "Do something! My house is on fire!"

"Miss Madison, what happened here?" He grabbed her around the waist, mostly to keep from falling over backwards as she leapt at him.

At that instant, a gigantic explosion rocked the house, sending flying debris over the two people standing in the street. Half of Washington State probably heard the boom as it echoed over Hood Canal. Tanner twisted instinctively, throwing her to the ground and covering her body with his as he protected her head with his arms. Shingles and boards and pieces of her household goods rained around them.

A fireball the size of a city bus mushroomed and whomped through the roof; at the exact same instant the old water heater described a graceful arc a hundred feet in the air, only to land with a crash in a heap. It left a crater in the back lawn two feet deep.

When the conflagration stopped and all went quiet again, Tanner rolled on one elbow and looked at her. "Are you all right?" he asked, his brow creased. He rubbed a smudge of soot off her nose then pulled her gently to her feet.

"I think so. What on earth happened?" she wondered aloud, shaking dust out of her hair. She staggered forward and stopped at the edge of the grass, peering through the roiling black smoke. Where her house once stood lay only broken, steaming rubble atop the concrete foundation. It looked like a tornado hit it.

"My house! It's gone! Oh, what am I to do now? My beautiful old antiques…oh, dear Heavens, my dojo!" Tears coursed down her cheeks, leaving trails across her soot-streaked face. Suddenly, the water main ruptured and a huge arc of water shot up like a geyser in the middle of her green front lawn.

Tanner reached for his cell phone and dialed 911. As he reported the explosion, he glanced over at Kylee. He winked as he took off his suit jacket and handed it to her. At the question in her eyes, he said, “That nightgown doesn’t look too warm.”

She looked down and noticed her nipples protruding through the thin silk. At that point, she didn’t even care, and as Kylee distractedly pulled the warmth and aroma of his coat around her, she wanted to cry. That house contained her entire life.

"Why did he do that? That wasn’t necessary!" she suddenly screamed, feeling on the edge of collapse.

"He? Who is 'he'? You know who did this?"

"That evil s-o-b. Keira told me he was back. I didn't believe her. I have to stop him."

"Him who? Miss Madison, you're not making any sense."

"The ShadowEater! My sister told me he’d come back and we needed to do something! He wants me and he'll stop at nothing to get me. Don't you see? I survived and now he's come back!"

"Your sister? I thought she was dead…? Please, help me out here. I'm confused."

"You're confused? I'm the one he wants! I don't know what to do. You have to help me."

"I'll do anything I can, Miss Madison. You’re rambling and not making a lot of sense. Calm down. The fire department will be here any minute. Come on," he said as he took her hand. "Come sit in my car where it's warm."

Tanner sat in the back seat of the roomy Dodge with Kylee across from him, shaking and huddled in the corner in his suit coat as the sound of sirens careened through the morning air. Charlie waited at the end of the drive to direct the arriving first responders. She sat there shaking, quiet as a church mouse, the shock and devastation more than she could bear.

Not much the fire department could do except put out the remnants of the fire that hadn't been blown out by the explosion. An electrical short in the back wall of the kitchen had started the fire to begin with, the fire chief told her. They pinpointed the origin of the explosion to a leak in the gas line leading to the new water heater which had been ignited by the fire. A tragic chain reaction.

Guiltily, Kylee asked if the installation of the water heater had anything to do with the gas line rupturing, but the fire chief said no. The leak was under the house out of reach of human hands. She insisted someone caused the gas leak. Maybe if she proved those FBI agents-turned-plumbers accidentally installed her water heater wrong, then the ShadowEater didn’t do this; he wasn’t back. She didn’t want him back here already. It’s just too soon; she and Keira always feared they’d have to confront him again someday, but it’s just too soon.

Much as she complained to the contrary, the fire chief told her they couldn’t confirm arson and it wasn’t a wrong installation of the water heater; these old houses often had defective wiring and corroded gas lines, and he couldn’t detect any signs of an accelerant. He pronounced her lucky to have survived, let alone without a scratch. She should’ve had all the wiring, gas lines and plumbing checked out when she bought the house, he admonished her. Maybe she should sue the site inspectors. He patted her shoulder like a small child, telling her how very sorry he felt, and she wanted to flatten him with an elbow to his neck.

Later, after she’d calmed down sufficiently, Kylee collected what few clothes she found in the debris that survived, stuffing them in an old gym bag, and shucked on a ripped pair of jeans and a sweatshirt with burn marks across the front. She found her scorched bra hanging on the chain-link fence, and hurriedly turned around to put it on, then found her tennis shoes several hundred feet away lodged in a tree. Sans socks, she pulled on the shoes and laced them tightly, then turned to her savior.

"Thank you, Agent Montgomery. You saved my life."

"Call me Tanner. I didn't do anything. You saved yourself. You're lucky you weren't still asleep in there when the furnace exploded."

"The smell of smoke woke me up. Oh, what am I to do now? Everything I owned was in that house. Even poor Angelina is toast from the stove landing on her."

"Angelina?"

She pointed at the heap of school-bus yellow metal in her driveway, practically unrecognizable beneath a portion of the porch roof. "My Jeep Wrangler. Don't you give your cars names?" She looked at him dead serious. "I named her after Angelina Jolie, who is one tough, strong broad." She nodded toward the Dodge. “Yours looks like a Bruce to me.”

Tanner rolled his eyes. "I'm sure we can get you a motel room where I'm staying until you figure out what's next. It’s not the Ritz, but we didn’t plan on staying here long."

"What's next is finding the creep who did this. This was no accident. He wanted me out here where he can get at me." Kylee gazed at Tanner’s confused face, resigned. "Oh, I can see you don't understand what the heck I'm talking about. Maybe I'll explain someday." Kylee strode to the detached shed and yanked open the door, noticing a hole in the ceiling where a large dresser had lodged. Inside the small garage-like shed, she whipped off a tarp, and there sat her Daddy’s candy-apple red, 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air convertible, as cherry as the day it left the assembly line. Kylee sucked her gut in and squeezed along the side of it and slid into the driver's side window head first, chucking her gym bag and its sparse belongings into the back seat first. She plucked the key from above the visor, started the car, and the engine roared to life, causing debris to filter down through the hole in the shed’s roof. Kylee carefully backed out, dislodging dust and particles from the gleaming hood.

"Good God, Kylee. Where did that car come from?" Tanner asked, agog.

"Bella was my father's pride and joy. He left her to me when he died a couple years ago. He restored every inch of her himself. Next to his family and Johnny Walker, he loved this car more than life itself." She unlatched the roof, got out, and flipped the canvas top back into the well in front of the trunk. "At least I still have it. I'm so glad it survived the explosion. I learned how to drive in this car."

"What a beautiful machine. I want to drive it." He stroked the silky paint of the fender lovingly.

Kylee shook her head. He slobbered over the car like he wanted to marry it. Then Tanner gave her a lascivious look she didn’t even want to contemplate, like he pictured her in the driver’s seat, buck naked…

"No, you can't! My dad never allowed anyone to drive this car. Umm, Bella is haunted." She ran around the other side to finish fastening the snaps on the boot.

"What do you mean, it's haunted?"

"Um, she does weird things when anybody besides my dad drives her, me included. I don't know exactly what to do with her. She kind of scares me," she lied.

Tanner stroked a hand across the red and white striped, hand tucked-and-rolled upholstery. "Your dad sure did a good job. I'm willing to take the risk if you are. Charlie can take our car back. I'm driving this one." He slipped into the driver's seat and put the car into reverse. Kylee didn't have much choice but to leap into the passenger side and hang on.

The drive back to the motel proved harrowing in the extreme from Kylee's perspective. The man drove like demons nipped at his tail. On the flat highway taking them the long way around back to town, Tanner pushed the car to its limit, topping 100. When he passed a sign going twice the posted speed limit, she’d had enough.

"Slow down, speed demon! The cops will get you for sure!"

"Oh, calm down. I know what I'm doing."

"You're going to get us both killed! STOP!"

Tanner mashed on the brakes and slid to a stop on the wide shoulder, looking at her askance. "What is wrong with you? There's nothing the matter with this car that an experienced driver can't cure. It purrs like a kitten."

Kylee slid over and opened the driver's side door. "Get out! I'm driving from now on. You're a menace!" She pushed him out the door and adjusted the rearview mirror, watching him chuckle as he walked around the back to get into the passenger side. The moment his butt hit the seat, she slammed it into drive and took off, barely giving him time to close the door.

"And you call me a speed demon? Give me a break," Tanner argued as the car cruised past the gas stations, convenience stores and farm fields dotting both sides of the two-lane highway.

"At least I obey the speed limit, you jerk."

"Jerk? Oh my, such expletives. Some gratitude you're showing after I saved your neck and all…" A gleam of humor shined in his eyes, setting the dimple in his cheek winking again. He rested his arm on the back of the seat and turned toward her.

"Hey, I saved my own life, remember? You just happened to be there."

"I would’ve caught you falling off the roof if I'd arrived two minutes earlier. So I almost saved your life. That counts."

"Give me a break. You're a worthless man, just like all of them."

"Worthless, huh? Where do you come off with such a pissy attitude? What man turned you so bitter?"

"I'm not bitter, just smart. It's men like you who turn my head and make a girl believe all sorts of stuff. When we get to that motel, you just stay away from me."

Kylee pulled into the drive of the rustic Dungeness Motel and shoved the gearshift roughly into reverse, then popped the clutch accidentally. The car shuddered silent, and he smiled, turning his face away. “That’s one way to turn off a stick-shift, just not the right way,” he mumbled.

She glared at him. “Did you say something?” He was actually laughing at her! She mashed on the e-brake and walked into the office to register—he followed, talking too loud. Several people in the tiny lobby turned to look.

"Don’t you walk away from me, Miss Madison. You’re not going to say something like that and just saunter away. I turn your head, do I?" He grinned to beat the band as he fished his wallet out of his back pocket to hand a credit card to the motel clerk.

"NO! You’re not my type, so back off. Thank you for renting me a room. I owe you one someday. Just go to your own room and forget you ever knew me. I have work to do," she growled at him. Kylee knew she had to talk to Keira and figure out where to go next, but she was having a heck of a time getting rid of this nosy FBI jerk.

Kylee signed the register and received the key with Bungalow #17 on it. How ironic, she thought. Prophetic things happened with the number 17. Her birthday was the 17th of November. Her sister died on July 17; her mother exactly two months later in a car accident; her dad then passed on August 17 eight years later. Even her address was 1700 Canal Road. Well, it used to be. The address proved the final impetus to buy the house in the first place.

Every time she had to get a number standing in line, invariably it was number 17. She had 17 of her favorite shows programmed into her TiVo, all gone now; along with the new flat screen HDTV she bought a month ago. Her room better have a decent air conditioner and a hot shower, and at least 17 channels on the tube, or management would hear from her. She felt as grimy as if she'd spent a week in the woods camping.

As she opened her bungalow room door, Tanner Montgomery dogged her heels. She swung on him, determined to get rid of him. "Please, I need some privacy right now. Can you understand that?" He stood there grinning at her, looking adorably right out of GQ.

"I'm only here because of you, Miss Madison. I came to town to investigate a series of brutal murders, and you have information which might help me find the perp. I won't be going anywhere soon. You made some mighty cryptic statements earlier, and you owe me an explanation."

"I don't owe you anything. Now go away and leave me alone." She slammed the door in his face and flopped face down on the bed. It smelled of stale urine and cigarette smoke. She rolled over and stared at the ceiling.

[I tried to tell you, Li’l. You need to do something. The ShadowEater is on the hunt now, and he'll find you.] Keira materialized from the top shelf of the closet to sit beside her on the bed.

"Oh, Keirs! What am I to do? I have nothing left besides you and that car! It's a good thing I put this on last night." She fisted the triangle-shaped talisman around her neck. "Thanks to your warning, he couldn't get to me. He probably would have if you hadn't insisted I wear this." She smiled ruefully. “It used to be the other way around—me insisting you wear it.”

[Let’s hope the talisman is as all-powerful as Mom cracked it up to be. I wish she’d told us more about that thing. You'll have to confront him to defeat him. You know this. You need to prepare yourself for a journey.] Keira wrapped her ephemeral arms around her sister's neck. Kylee hung on to thin air like a lifeline. She wished she could feel her sister's arms around her. The hug was meant to soothe her fear, but it only made her feel worse. She leaned back stiffly against the headboard.

[You have to find him and stop him. He’s escalating. I followed him and I saw him come out of a fish processing boat in Seattle last night. That's where you need to go. There's got to be a clue to his next move in there. And talk to that FBI guy.]

Kylee stood up to pace the length of the room and back again. "I can't, Keirs. I'm too scared."

[If you don't, the ShadowEater will continue killing twins. And he will get you. He’s going to release the Gords. Can you imagine a world controlled by Lucifer’s soldiers? Get some backbone, girl! I know you hate confrontation, but it can’t be helped this time. You’re it. Tanner Montgomery will help, if you'll let him.]

"I'll think about it. Right now, I need a shower." Kylee stripped off her Huskies sweatshirt. "What the heck am I supposed to wear? I have no clothes that aren’t burnt and full of holes."

At a sharp knock on the door, Kylee jumped. "Now what?" She yanked open the door, heedless of her state of undress.

Tanner Montgomery stood there, his expression unreadable. His gaze traveled lazily down her body and she physically felt the heat in it.

"What do you want now?" she snapped.

He stood there staring at the swell of her breasts above her bra. You’d think this man had seen boobs before, but he seemed to find particular interest in hers. "I-I thought you might need these…" he stammered, a strange, hungry look on his face. He held a sack from K-Mart in his hand as the late afternoon sun lit up the thick dark curls atop his head.

"What is it?" she growled, in no mood to accept gifts from this man.

"Just some tee-shirts and a fresh pair of jeans. I saw your size on the label of your Levis earlier. I hope it's okay."

All her irritation at this man evaporated at his kindness. Why did he do this sweet, wonderful thing? "Um, um, thank you. How nice of you.” Realizing she stood there half undressed, she ducked behind the door and popped only her head out. “Please excuse my state of undress. I was about to get in the shower." Now that was a brilliant thing to say. Why don’t I just invite him in to shower with me? Jeez. She accepted the bag with her thanks and closed the door, suddenly blushing at her boldness by answering the door half naked.

Kylee spread the loot out on the bed, amazed at his thoroughness. He'd bought new underwear, including a six-pack of little scrunched-down ankle socks. He’d chosen skimpy bikinis when she preferred more modest briefs, but they'd have to do. Every single one of her pairs at home simply vaporized in the heat. The size 6 Wrangler jeans fit perfectly. The bra didn't. He'd imagined her boobs about two cup sizes larger than they were, commensurate with the size his eyes got at seeing her half dressed. She'd have to wear the same bra she’d fished off the fence. She unhooked it and ran hot water in the sink with a healthy dollop of motel hand soap to rinse the smoky smell out of it. A small smile lit up her face imagining that big galoot pouring through the female lingerie section of K-Mart, trying to guess her sizes.

She jumped into the shower, turning the water on as hot as she could stand. As she scrubbed her body clean of the morning's grime, she imagined his hands soaping her body instead of her own. Then she got angry at herself for allowing such traitorous thoughts. He's trouble, she told herself. Get a grip…

CHAPTER FOUR

Great. There goes another $500 pair of shoes.

At promptly 8:00 a.m., Tanner knocked on the door of bungalow 17 at the Dungeness Motel. It took three knocks before the door slowly opened a crack, and Kylee stood there, blinking the blinding morning sun from her eyes. At least she had on a tee-shirt this time.

“Want some breakfast?”

Kylee knuckled the sleep away and stood there, glaring at him.

“Breakfast…you know, eggs, ham, pancakes?”

“Get lost and leave me alone,” she snarked, trying to slam the door.

He stuck his foot in the door, then yelped as she slammed it anyway, smashing his toes painfully. “Hey! What the hell is wrong with you?” He hopped backwards, glaring at her.

“Serves you right. Why can’t you just go away?”

He sighed, gingerly putting weight on his injured foot. “You probably broke it.”

“Oh, I did not, you big baby.” She crossed her arms over her breasts. “Fine. Give me fifteen minutes.”

Tanner walked back to the Dodge where Charlie stood patiently waiting. He lit a cigarette and leaned back against the hood. “What makes y’all think she’s gonna tell ya a thing, Boss?”
“She will, or I’ll tan her hide,” Tanner said, grinning. “She sure packs a wallop, though. I’ll be limping for a week.”

“Yeah, and not from your foot,” Charlie laughed.

True to her word, Kylee emerged from the seedy motel room fifteen minutes later, looking fresh-faced and incredibly young in the jeans and white cropped tee-shirt he’d bought her at K-Mart. She’d braided her long curly hair into two loose pigtails on either side of her head, but it did little to control the wild tendrils escaping to frame her face.

He held the passenger-side door of the Dodge open for her as Charlie piled into the back seat. After a silent five-minute ride, the three of them pulled into the I-Hop restaurant parking lot at the K-Mart plaza. The waitress seated them at a booth near the window, and Kylee made a pretense of staring at the menu for an inordinate amount of time. The intoxicating aroma of fresh, hot coffee about drove Tanner nuts.

“It’s not rocket science, Miss Madison. Order something so I can have my coffee.” The scent of her nearness rapidly became more intoxicating than the smell of coffee. Inexplicably, she smelled like green apples and he kept catching a whiff of her hair; the sharp clean aroma set his heart thumping.

She glared at him, then turned to the waitress who stood patiently waiting, pencil in hand. “I’ll have a #7, eggs over easy, large orange juice, hot chocolate now, please, and a side of Harvest Nut Pancakes. Oh, and extra bacon—crispy, please.”

“Are we hungry this morning?” Tanner asked, shooting a lopsided grin at her appetite. He ordered coffee and wheat toast, as did Charlie. The waitress turned over their cups and filled each, slopping a bit into the saucer, then fled to answer the urgent summons of yet another ding from the cook’s bell.

Kylee frowned at him. “What do you want from me, Agent Montgomery?”

“Tanner, please. I just need you to answer a few questions, that’s all.”

“So ask. Doesn’t mean I’m going to answer you.”

“How did a skinny 16-year-old girl escape from a vicious killer?”

She sighed heavily, fingering a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I was only 15, and I slid my skinny self down the sewer, that’s how.”

“The sewer? Oh, good God! You’re fucking kidding me!”

She cringed at his epithet. “Please don’t swear. I hate it. Even worse than the sewer was when I had to watch that animal cut up my sister. You happy about that?”

“Kylee, why would I be happy about that? I’m on your side, honey.”

“I’m not your honey.” She darted an angry glance his way.

“Look, I want to catch this creep as much as you do. What can you tell me about him? What did he look like?”

“Dark. Dark clothes, dark face, dark hood. It was DARK in there! I don’t remember much else.” Kylee opened a package of saltines and stuffed one in her mouth.

“Where were you when abducted?”

“In Oklahoma, where we lived back then. Walking home from the movie theater,” she said, munching behind a hand. “I told Keira not to run into the light. I warned her he likes the circles of street lights.”

“And how did you know he likes street lights?”

“Umm, from when we encountered him before.”

“Before? You’ve seen him before? When? Where?” Tanner’s eyes went wide, and he shot a baffled glance at Charlie, who shrugged. The waitress returned with Kylee’s hot chocolate, overflowing with whipped cream on top, and a carafe of fresh-squeezed orange juice.

As she moved away, Kylee lowered her voice. “I banished him two years before he killed my sister. Sent him straight back to Hades where he came from.”

“What do you mean—banished? How do you banish a killer?”

“I used my talisman and confronted him in the cleansing light from God.” She fingered the triangular amulet around her neck. “He went poof, and we didn’t see him or hear from him again until…” Kylee lowered her eyes and played with a loose cuticle. “…that night. Neither of us wore the amulet. That’s how he got us.”

Oh my God. This poor girl is mentally ill, probably post traumatic. She could go off at any time. “He went poof, huh?” Tanner couldn’t help it—he smiled, just a little. Ah shit, she noticed. She went suddenly stiff.

After an uncomfortable silence which seemed to last forever, Tanner cleared his throat. “And you think this person is responsible for the fire and explosion at your house yesterday morning?”

Kylee’s eyes positively daggered him. “Of course, I’m certain. He can’t let me get away. He can’t complete his mission without me. Well, he might be able to, but it would be much, much easier if he had me, too. We’re mirrors, Keira and I, and the reflection demands our identical souls.” She tossed back half the hot chocolate in one gulp.

“The reflection? What reflection?” Tanner asked stupidly.

“His reflection! In the Mirror! Sheesh.” She wiped her lips. “Don’t you get it? He only needs three, maybe four more identical twins! I really don’t want to talk about him when I’m so hungry.”

Tanner rolled his eyes to the ceiling and back again, realizing he might get nothing from this nut case. “Okay, just tell me this. This morning, you said your sister told you he was back. How is this possible? I’m sure you have a perfectly logical explanation for that, too.” He tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, he honestly did.

Kylee sat there, a furious glint in her bottle-green eyes, as if thinking up a really good one this time, when the waitress brought their food. She attacked hers with gusto, dumping far too much salt and pepper on everything, salsa-not-ketchup on the side, please. Tanner mostly sat there and watched her eat, amazed. From time to time, he looked at Charlie, who simply shook his head, a wry grin on his mouth.

When she was done, she wiped her mouth daintily, then just stood up and walked out the door. Tanner flopped a twenty on the table, and he and Charlie jogged to catch up, but Tanner easily outdistanced the older man.

“Miss Madison! Wait, please! Aww, come on, Kylee! Wait up!” He caught her by the elbow as she reached the street, her thumb out. She deftly swirled and faced him, her hands in trained readiness. “You touch me again, Buster, and I’ll break your arm.”

“Kylee…wait, don’t leave.” Tanner backed up, hands in supplication, just as Charlie caught up with him. They bonked heads and both went down. Kylee started laughing, and laughing, slapping her thighs and laughing some more. She strutted down the road laughing, her thumb cocked. Tanner, his head swirling, watched as a white SUV stopped, she got in, and the vehicle headed northwest towards the motel where they’d left her car. He sat up, spat, and threw a clod of dirt right at Charlie’s head.

“Come on, Charlie. Move your clumsy ass. She has to go get her car. We can’t let her get away.”

***

The two men raced back to the motel, barely in time to see the taillights of the Chevy as it disappeared north on US 101. “Where in hell is she goin’, Boss?”

“I dunno, Charlie. But whereth she goes…”

“We goeth, Boss!”

Tanner floored it and followed her. “Quit calling me Boss, Charlie! How many damn times…”

Charlie laughed, feeling the wind in his thinning gray hair. It didn’t get much better than this. Following leads, chasing the bad guys, hangin’ with his bro’, as his kids said. He looked over at Tanner, who sat there cussing him out yet again. He smiled fondly. Tanner wasn’t such a bad guy; all bark and no bite, in his opinion. As a Yankee who loved all things Southern, including the women, he led a bachelor’s life of unencumbered adventure and excitement, while he, Charlie, had to contend with a nagging shrew of a wife and six spoiled rotten kids at home. One more reason the song of the road called to him. But all in all, he’d rather be right here next to his partner than anywhere else on earth. Even if Tanner did drive like a maniac.

Charlie slouched in the seat as Tanner managed to follow the Chevy’s bright-red taillights all the way down 104 to the ferry dock at Kingston. Avoiding being seen, they pulled into a spot out of the way to wait. As she boarded the ferry, they slipped into place and picked a spot as far from her car as they could. They slumped down to wait, watching as Kylee got out of the convertible and headed upstairs to the passenger deck.

She returned a half-hour later, sitting in her car as the ferry docked in Edmonds, then drove carefully off the ramp. Charlie’s job consisted of keeping his eyes on the surrounding traffic and warning Tanner of any upcoming dangers. Tanner kept his eyes glued to the high back fins as she expertly maneuvered the big red convertible in and out of traffic, eventually merging onto southbound I-5. Thirty minutes later at the Mercer Street exit, she slid into mid-afternoon downtown traffic.

Tanner lost her briefly when he swerved to miss a kid on a bicycle and his attention was momentarily diverted. “Charlie! Damn it! Warn me next time, will ya?”

“Sorry, Boss. Didn’t see ‘im,” he apologized, taking his hands off the dashboard where they’d landed reflexively when Tanner hit the brakes.

“Now where’d she go? Shit!”

“Right there! She turned t’ord the waterfront.” Charlie hung on as the Dodge careened down a hill just as the light turned yellow at the bottom, which didn’t stop Tanner. He floored it and sailed over the intersection with all four tires off the ground.

They landed with a bone-jarring thud, and a hubcap sailed off, bouncing off the curb. Sliding to a stop, Tanner pointed at the Chevy pulled over on the side of the road. Kylee leaned over and opened the glove box, seemed to have a conversation with something inside it, then slammed it closed and peeled rubber.

Tanner swiveled his head to look at Charlie, seeing the same surprised question in his partner’s eyes that filled his own. They tailed her north on Elliott Ave. across the railroad tracks to Garfield, then she took a left on Pier 91. Tanner followed her expertly from years of surveillance, then parked when she did, a half block away. He grabbed a flashlight out of the glove box and they got out of their car, creeping closer, staying hidden behind enormous concrete pillars, watching as she headed across the pier. She stopped in front of an old abandoned fishing boat, looked at the sky and mouthed something, then gingerly crossed the gangplank and took two steps on deck. As she paused, as if looking for something, Tanner put a finger to his lips, and motioned Charlie toward the boat.

When she disappeared below deck, Tanner raced across the distance, leaping on board in one powerful jump. Charlie’s age and a bad back made him a tad slower, so he took his usual guardian post on the dock. He heard a feminine shriek from below deck, assuming Kylee caught sight of Tanner. A quick scuffle…then silence. Charlie drew his 9mm and released the safety.

Tanner spotted Kylee as she disappeared behind a bulkhead. He caught up to her, clapped a hand over her mouth from behind, then kicked her feet out from under her, cushioning her fall by holding her under one arm. She squealed and struggled briefly, then went limp. He let go of her mouth, and she bit him, hard, on the fleshy part of his hand, then rolled to one side when he let loose. “Let me go! Where did you come from?” she growled.

“Shit, Kylee! Cut it out! I’m here to help.” He stuffed his hand in his mouth, sucking on the slow seepage of blood. “What are you looking for here? What brought you to this boat?”
“He’s either here or he’s been here. I know it. We have to get further into the bowels of this ship.”

“It’s a boat, Kylee, not a ship. It’s not big enough to be a ship.”

“Whatever. He’s here, I tell you. Shhhh….listen.” She cocked an ear and they both heard vague thumping from below.

He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Stay here. I’ll go.”

“Not on your life. I have the amulet, remember?” She pulled a snerd with her mouth, curling her lips in a strange way, and Tanner couldn’t help chuckling at her funny face.

How does she do that? He thought. “Fine, we’ll both go, but I have the gun, remember?” he said. “Stay behind me.” He flipped on his flashlight and they crept forward until faced with a steep, rusty ladder descending into darkness. They’d found the hold. The mingled smells from dozens of years of fish hauling and some other sweet, sickening odor hit them right between the eyes, and they both gagged. “Here, hold this over your nose.” He handed her his handkerchief, clean for once. “Ready?”

She nodded, and he slipped down the ladder first, only to land in a pool of something dark, wet and sticky. Great. There goes another $500 pair of shoes, he thought as his nose curled. He hadn’t expected to wade through blood and gore today, or he’d have worn his blood-and-gore boots. Dammit! He really needed to buy a good pair of waterproof boots if this girl continued to lead him everywhere but on dry land. He shined his light downward, lifting one foot, then straddled the gutter leading out of the holding tank and watched the river of blood mixed with bits of flesh and bone rush past his feet, a garden hose at the top adding seawater to the vile stew.

At a thud from above his head, he jerked the flashlight upwards. Scaffolding spiderwebbed the ceiling and led off into some darker-looking holes in the wall. As he watched, a 50-gallon drum crashed sideways, its disgusting contents adding to the river streaming out of the hold and into the sea in a graceful, pink arc. He couldn’t see who tipped the barrel; that sicko stayed in the shadows. Tanner suddenly knew with gut-wrenching certainty what all those barrels contained—the ground-up remains of his victims. The psycho disposed of them as he watched.

Kylee landed beside him with a splash, just at the moment the shadowy shape doing the dumping looked up from his task and saw them. He threw the empty barrel down the slope, missing Kylee’s legs by inches. Tanner leapt out of the way, sliding on the slick blood coating the narrow chamber. He landed hard on his butt and the gun went flying, along with the flashlight. The barrel clanged harmlessly against the steel hull.

“Stop! FBI! Put your hands up and come out of that alcove!” The man scrambled up another ladder and disappeared. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” Tanner scraped mightily to get to his feet, reaching for his gun he dropped when he slipped.

“Such language! Please watch your mouth!” Kylee said, and shot him a look of pure intensity. “Look!” She pointed up to another round hole in the wall. “What’s in there?”

Tanner crab-walked across the narrow chamber, picked up the flashlight and shined it into the hole. “It’s another round room. From what I can tell, I think it’s the fish storage pod. Don’t go in there. It’s another killing chamber. All I see is dripping blood.”

A gunshot cracked the air and echoed throughout the chamber.

“Charlie!” Tanner hollered, then slipped and slid every step to the base of the ladder. He grabbed hold of the bottom rung and pulled his big body upwards in one smooth move, latching the heel of his now ruined expensive loafers on the rusty steel. “Come on, Charlie’s in trouble,” he spat over his shoulder. Kylee obeyed and followed him up the ladder.

As they raced across the wooden deck of the old boat, Tanner couldn’t see Charlie. Suddenly from out of the bushes there he came, holding a guy by his scruffy collar. Filthy dirty and covered in blood, the bearded man Charlie apprehended looked sheepish and not at all like a killer.

“Caught this dude runnin’ away, Boss. Figured you might wanna talk to him,” Charlie said, a serious glower on his face.

Tanner flattened the man against a concrete pillar, frisking him for weapons and contraband. At that moment, three and then five cop cars descended on the scene. “Take this man to the station for questioning,” Tanner barked at the uniforms approaching him. “Then get the CSI team out here, and the coroner to identify the contents of any barrels you may find. Go now, man! Quit wasting time!” An officer scurried to do his bidding.

***

“Tell me again what you were doing on that boat,” Tanner questioned the homeless man, whose name was Herman Johnson, he found out. He looked carefully at the grizzled, gray-haired old man sitting across the metal table of the interrogation room, his hands and feet in shackles. If Tanner couldn’t make him squeal, nobody could. He enjoyed making perps like this squirm like a worm on the hook.

“I wasn’t doin’ nuttin’. I tol’ ya already. Some dude in a trench coat picked me up in a black cargo van at the Millionaire Club this mornin’. Says he’d pay me a hunnert bucks to dump some barrels off ‘n that boat; half now and half when the job gits done. Now I ain’t never gonna see that other fitty bucks.”

“What did he say to you—exactly?” Tanner didn’t believe a word this man said.

“Nuttin’ much. He wuz kinda creepy. I couldn’t see his face ‘cuz he had this black leather hood coverin’ his head. He dropped me off, tol’ me where the barrels was, and said he’d be back at 4:00 to make sure I done it right. It’s after that now, ain’t it? Fuck you, man. I ain’t tellin’ you nuthin’ until you pay me my other fitty bucks.”

“Money is the least of your worries. What was in those barrels?” Tanner pressed his nose to within an inch of the man’s face, practically inhaling his whiskey breath. To his credit, the reprobate started shaking.

“I dunno, man! Din’t think to ask. Some illegal waste product, I figured. I knew by the smell it wa’n’t good. ‘Bout barfed up my lunch.”

“You’ll wish you had, by the time I get done with you. Now start talking! How many kids have you killed, ground up, and poured out of those barrels?” Tanner shouted, grabbing the man’s shirt front.

“Me? Killed kids? What kids? Are you crazy, man? I don’t got no kids; I’m homeless! I’m stayin’ in the Mission Shelter on First Ave. Talk to Dennis, the clerk. He’ll tell ya I ain’t no killer. Check it out!”

“I will. Count on it!”

Tanner left the room, slamming the door angrily. He turned to the sergeant. “I can’t get him to confess no matter how hard I lean on him, short of beating it out of him. Let him cool his heels a while. I have to check out his alibi.”

Kylee burst in the door of the interrogation foyer and crossed the linoleum in three strides, grabbing Tanner’s arm. “He didn’t do it. It’s not him, I tell you. His story is true. He’s not the ShadowEater.”

“Why do you call him that weird name?”

“My sister and I named him the ShadowEater as kids. We always said if you ever see him, you won’t live to see your shadow because he’ll eat it, and then you. He lives in the gloom, and waits for his prey to enter the circle of light. Sometimes I can see him lurking outside my window in the darkness. That guy isn’t him.”

More of her mumbo jumbo crap, Tanner surmised. He wouldn’t believe it until he saw it for himself.

Herman Johnson’s alibi checked out. He wasn’t even in town the day before; he’d been trapped on a Greyhound from San Diego to Seattle. The clerk at the shelter confirmed he hadn’t checked in until late last night. Herman told the detectives taking his history that Seattle offered better day jobs than Southern California. He merely wanted a chance to better his life, and he saved and scrounged for a month to buy a bus ticket. This man didn’t have two nickels rubbing together in his holey pockets, just a bloody fifty-dollar bill. Yeah, let’s see if a few days in jail betters his life, Tanner thought.

The round hold in the abandoned fishing boat proved indeed to be another killing room. No bodies as in the past, however. Kylee’s ShadowEater had obviously gotten what he wanted and moved on, leaving the dregs of his little hobby for someone else to clean up.

When the news of twins gone missing in Lynnwood hit the front desk, Tanner knew immediately who had been slaughtered in the fishing boat hold. Identical twin girls, Shaniqua and Kanisha Pittman, barely nine years old, curly-headed and the light of their parents’ lives, disappeared from a carnival in the Alderwood Mall parking lot. After much begging and pleading on the part of the girls, the young parents, on vacation from Indiana, reluctantly left them on the rides to do some shopping, admonishing them not to speak to strangers. That was the last time they set eyes on them.

Kylee stuck around the stationhouse, making phone calls from a vacant desk to the insurance company about her house, and she started the phone-tree for her students to tell them the bad news. When she finished those onerous chores, she hung around chatting up the guys in the station, more from not having anywhere else to go than interest in Tanner Montgomery’s investigation. His instincts for this case were all wrong, anyway. He was so far off base, he’d never solve it this way. The man wouldn’t listen!

“Let me talk to Mr. Johnson, Tanner. He might tell me something he wouldn’t necessarily tell you.”

“He’s dangerous. I can’t risk it.”

“He’s a pitiful old man. I can handle him. I put you on the floor, didn’t I?” She gave him that quirky snerd again, both lips twisting sideways. She crossed her eyes for emphasis.

“How do you do that? With your mouth all scrunched up like that? It makes me laugh every time I see it.”

She turned toward him. “Like this…” She lifted one corner of her upper lip into an arch. “This is a snerd.” Then she lowered the opposite corner downward. “This is a double snerd. It’s genetic, and most people can’t do it. Keira does hers in the opposite direction. It’s one way our parents could tell us apart. They’d make us do a snerd, then they’d know for sure who was whom.”

“Ha! Okay, you win, but I’ll be watching through the one-way mirror.”

Kylee waited for him to open the door, then slid in as it quickly snicked shut again. “Hello, Mr. Johnson. My name is Kylee Madison.” She sat down at the table across from him. “I think we have something in common.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“We’ve both survived meeting the ShadowEater.”

“That’s his name? Weird. He an Injun or sumpin?”

“No, he’s not an Indian. He’s a dangerous killer and we need to catch him before he kills more children.”

“So whadda ya want from me? I done tol’ them guys ever’thing I know.”

“I want to know your gut instinct. I want you to close your eyes and describe the inside of his van. Can you do that for me?”

Herman closed his eyes as his head sank back on his shoulders. “Wall, it wuz way creepy. There wuz this map of the You-nited States spread out on the dashboard with red and blue stickpins in it, right through the vinyl. I scratched my head over that one.”

“A map, you say? How did a map get on the dashboard?”

“It wuz the darndest thing; glued on there, like that sticky plastic shelf paper stuff. My mama stuck that crap on everything—furniture, cupboards…”

“Mr. Johnson, please. Where were the stickpins? What cities?” Kylee gently prodded.

“Um, there wuz one here in Seattle, a red one, and one in New York—now that’n wuz blue. I ‘member that’n clearly cuz it looked like it wuz in the ocean, not on land, so I looked real close to see. Oh, and there wuz a coupla red ones somewhere in the Midwest, don’t know a lot about the middle of this country. I been roaming jest the edges of it most my life. Um, let’s see…oh yeah, a blue one in Arizona, couldn’t tell what city ‘cuz it looked smack dab in the middle of the Grand Canyon. I hope I ‘membered them colors right. It’s a puzzle, fer sure.”

“How can you possibly remember all that in such detail?”

“Oh, I allus had a good memory. Especially for geography. I know maps. Had to, being a vagabond. I got good grades in junior high school, but I hadda drop out ‘cause my mama got sick. It wuz just her and me, tryin’ to make our way. After she died, I found myself wanderin’. Jest cain’t seem to ketch a break in life, and now this.” The old man hung his head, looking defeated.

“I’m sorry you’ve had such a hard life. You’ll be rewarded in the afterlife for all your suffering, if that helps. Can you tell me anything more about the van driver? Did you ask him anything?” Kylee kept digging.

“Nope. Din’t axe him nuttin. His attitude didn’t broke no conversatin’, if you get my drift.” Herman shoveled a finger in his nose and rooted around. He wiped the contents of his picking on his pants. “I ‘member two other maps on the seat, tho, all folded up nice and neat. Two furrin countries, if I ‘member right.”

“Which ones? It’s important, Mr. Johnson. Try to remember.”

“Um, I think Scotland and Venezuela, maybe.” The last word came out ‘Veneezoola’. “Or it mighta been Brazil. An’ there wuz this Egypt picture on his visor. Like a small sarcoptagus or sumpin’. He kept on lookin’ at it and snufflin’.”

“A picture of a pyramid?”

“Nah. A picture of a little coffin-like chest from that city what has the pyramids. Ain’t that Egypt? Only it didn’t look quite Egypt-like, neither.”

“Egypt is a country, not a city, but yes, I’m pretty sure they have pyramids there. You have excellent skills of observation. What you’ve told me will help a lot. Thank you, Mr. Johnson, for talking with me. I’m sure you’ll be on your way as soon as this investigation wraps up. A day or two at the most.”

“Thanks backatcha, Miss Madison. You’s a nice lady. I don’t mind bein’ here so much. It’s three squares and a warm bed, not much diff’rent than the shelter. No hurry.”

Kylee left the room, giving Tanner a sly look.

“How did you do that? He wouldn’t tell me squat!” Tanner fisted his hands, fit to be tied. She got more information in ten minutes than an entire squad of cops got all afternoon.

“I’m better than you, that’s all.” She stormed off, flinging open the swinging doors of the squad room and striding purposefully for her car.

“Where are you going?” he hollered, sprinting after her.

“Got places to go, things to do and people to see,” she tossed over her shoulder. Giving a glance at a lowering sky, she grabbed the canvas of the convertible top and slung it upright and into the brackets.

He slid in the passenger seat as she hastily clamped the top into place. “Your sister tell you it’s going to rain?” She merely looked at him and shoved the car into gear, peeling rubber the entire length of the parking lot. She knew how to handle a stick shift, expertly pedaling the clutch to get the maximum benefit. When she stopped at the street, looking both ways, he turned to her. “So where are we going?”

“I’m going to the Grand Canyon. Wanna get out now?”

CHAPTER FIVE

“How dare you! I told you no more sex!”

Kylee stopped at the Olive Street Branch of BankAmerica, withdrew $20,000 from her IRA in hundred dollar bills and stashed them in a bank deposit pouch beneath her seat. She’d pay for it in penalties up the wazoo, but it couldn’t be helped. As the powerful Chevy hit the I-5 freeway heading south to Portland and beyond, Tanner found his voice.

“Goddammit, girl, why on earth are you going to Arizona? What in God’s name has possessed you?”

“Must you blaspheme God’s name?”

“Sorry. I’ll try harder. I didn’t realize you were one of them…”

She glared sideways at him. He was obviously too stupid to grasp the consequences of his mouth. “I have to follow my heart. By his powers of observation, Herman Johnson told me the ShadowEater’s going to the Grand Canyon. I’ll know more later when I get there.” Kylee shot him a dirty look. “You heard him when he said it, so don’t argue.”

He adroitly changed the subject. “Why don’t you stash your money in the glove box? It locks and seems much safer…”

“Mind your own business, and stay out of my glove box. If you refuse to get out of my car and I have to take you along, the least you can do is stay out of my personal life. I have to destroy this creep once and for all, and you’re just going to get in the way.”

“Oh! Oh, look who’s ‘just’ in the way of a major homicide investigation! You’ve been a thorn in my side since the day I met you! Why, I ought to run you in and lock you up, Miss Ninja!”

“Just try, big boy. I’ll kick you outta this car so fast, your head will spin. Now find something mellow on the radio and shut the heck up.” Much to her surprise, he did just that, chuckling rather than continuing to argue. As the sky opened up and it began to rain, the smooth sounds of the Pretenders soared through the subwoofer and filled the car with an oldie melody.

Soon, both of them sang along as Bella ate up the pavement, the purr of her engine smooth as silk. I’ll stand by you; won’t let anyone hurt you….. The whap-whap of the wipers kept perfect time to the beat.

Some time after midnight, Kylee pulled the Chevy into a Motel 6 parking lot, nudged a sleeping FBI agent awake, and told him to get in there and register for a room. No, make it TWO rooms. She handed him a hundred dollar bill, thinking he looked so cute with his hair all tumbled and sleep clouding the sky in his eyes.

Tanner looked around, seeing nothing but desert farmland as far as the eye could see. They must be somewhere in the middle of Oregon, he figured. “I can use my credit card,” he objected, fisting the sleep from his eyes.

“No. Too easy to trace. I don’t want to give him any more information than necessary. He uses those electronic transactions to find us.”

Fifteen minutes later, as they each fumbled with the keys to their side-by-side rooms, Kylee glanced up to catch him watching her. She smiled, and said, “Good night. We leave at 5:00 a.m. Be ready, or I’ll leave you here.”

“You wish,” he quipped. “I’ll be up before you, guarandamn—I mean, guarandarnteed.”
She smiled at him so dazzling bright, her beauty in the moonlight hit him like a two-by-four. Then she giggled, and that irked him.

In two strides, he wrapped his arms around her. As their mouths met in hunger, he pushed the door open with his foot. He twirled her around and shoved her against the entry, slamming it shut. A moan wrenched from her throat, and she launched at him, flinging her legs around his waist. Bodies and mouths entwined, they stumbled across the room and began ripping the clothes off each other and flinging their shoes aside. A tee-shirt tossed over a chair, his jeans and hers a commingled puddle on the floor, and the entire time their mouths only parted long enough for a garment to pass between them as their tongues fought for dominance. Sliding off their underwear and breathing heavily, they collapsed onto the queen-sized bed.

Icy blue eyes gazed into her sea-green depths, clouded with desire. Something understood passed between them. Something unspeakable. A wave of exhilaration consumed him. This girl was different.

His hand roamed lazily over her breasts as he inhaled her aroma. She smelled slightly of sweat from the day’s events, and her pheromones sent his dick into overdrive and his head swimming with desire. When she lay naked and spread-eagled beneath him, he dipped to kiss the tip of one rosy breast. He heard her breath catch in her throat and she rose to meet his erection full on.

As he impaled her silken sheath in one smooth move, her eyes opened wide and she gasped, reaching her climax instantaneously. As he slowly started to move within her, he stroked the fire in her belly, and she begged him with her body—faster! He obliged as she grabbed his rear end in both hands. Her channel clutched over and over and over against his shaft as her hands kept pulling him deeper and deeper into her, consuming him. The strong suction soon had him spilling his seed deep within her in an earth-shattering burst of relief.

He slumped to one side, breathing heavily and feeling guilty for not pulling out in time. Shit! He’d never lost it like that before.

“Get out of my room,” she suddenly said.

“What? Why? No! I want to stay here with you. I’m sorry I didn’t pull out, but you drove me nuts with that clutching beautiful pussy of yours. Never seen a chick cum like that in my life.”

“Just leave, please, and take your nasty mouth with you.”

He stared at her with a grim look on his face for a good minute, then got up and put his pants on. Kylee pulled the covers over her head and turned her back to him. He let himself out the door.

As she heard the click of the door lock engaging, Kylee sat up on her bed mentally chastising herself. Why, oh why, did I let him do that? Now he’ll expect sex all the time. “Darn!” she cursed. “Oh, why, why, why?” She pounded the thin cotton blanket with every word. “I promised myself I wouldn’t have sex with that man! Oh, darn, darn, double darn. Sex ruins everything!”

As if summoned, Keira floated out of the closet to sit by her side. [You slut, you. I warned you. I knew you had the hots for that guy.]

“I do not! It’s been a hard day. I couldn’t help it. I needed that.”

[Now he’ll be sniffing your tail halfway across the country. Why are you dragging him along, anyway? I know; I know…I wanted you to tell him our story, but I didn’t expect to be hauling his butt with us. It’s annoying, having to hide all the time. Why did you invite him?]

“He kind of invited himself. Plus, I was lonely.” Kylee shrugged. “He may come in handy.”

[Yeah, I’ll bet. You have two days to get to the meteor crater. You’ll have to get rid of the Agent by then. Unless you want his death on your hands, too?]

“What do you mean, ‘too’. You’re blaming me again for living when you died! That’s not fair.” She punched a pillow in frustration. “You’re just jealous you can’t have sex, too.”

[I had sex exactly once, when that quarterback took my virginity at Junior Prom, so it hasn’t exactly become natural for me. But you’re the only one who blames you for my death. You think you didn’t love me enough and that’s why I died and you didn’t. Nothing could be further from the truth. Your fascination with Tanner Montgomery is dragging you down, diluting your resolve. I merely meant if you don’t get there in time, the ShadowEater may become so strong, even you can’t defeat him. He’s going to release the demons, you know. If he finds the Sacred Mirror…you want that on your conscience?]

Kylee sighed. “No, of course not. It’s just…”

[Just what, Li’l? You know you can’t fall in love with this guy. He’s all wrong for you. He’s too much like Daddy—hardboiled, temperamental, egotistical. He’s a dreamer, and he’ll break your heart. You’ll end up living Mom’s life.]

“I have no intention of falling for this guy. We just had sex, that’s all. A physical release after all the tensions of the day. And there was absolutely nothing wrong with Daddy! Mama loved him and her life. Thanks for putting THAT picture in my head. I thought you wanted me to talk to Tanner? Why are you so hateful now? Why can’t you make up your mind?”

[Wake up, Kylee. At the time, I thought he could help you, and he did. His usefulness is over. You have a very important job to do. Stop this ceremony the ShadowEater is planning in the crater. If he succeeds in this incantation, his power will double in strength. Can you stop him while lusting after some Greek god who probably thinks you’re as disposable as every other slut he’s banged in the last few months? What if you get knocked up? You should dump him in Las Vegas and get on with it, like you know you need to do. Trust me—he’s a big boy and can take care of himself.]

“You’re right, Keirs. Always, you’re right. I’ll get rid of him at the next stop, I promise. Now go away and let me get some sleep. I have a long drive ahead of me tomorrow.” Kylee flipped off the bedside light and rolled over. She fell into an immediate deep slumber, dreaming of tumbled ebony curls and a tight male butt she wanted to bite.

***

Knock, knock, knock. Kylee rolled over and looked at the clock on the bedside. 4:50 a.m. She jumped out of bed stark naked and went to open the door. At the last minute, she grabbed her jeans and held them up in front of her, opening the door only a small crack with the chain engaged to make sure it was Tanner out there. It was. She blinked at the light as daybreak peeked over the horizon, teasing the begging crops with warmth to come. Pleading for ten minutes, she raced to the bathroom to throw some cold water on her face and rub at her teeth with her finger swiped on a bar of soap. It tasted terrible, and she reminded herself to be sure to get a toothbrush somewhere today. And a hairbrush, she realized, as she unbraided her tangled hair, finger-combing as she went. She quickly threw the unwieldy mass into a low ponytail, twisting it secure with the ponytail holders from her braids. It fell in a thick wavy waterfall to the middle of her back.

Tanner waited for her on the outdoor veranda fronting their second-story motel rooms. He hadn’t slept a wink, afraid she’d sneak out in the middle of the night and leave him there. I wouldn’t put it past her, he thought. He lit the cigarette he bummed from a passing tourist and gazed out at the sun rising higher over the desert landscape. Undulating fields of newly planted corn and soybeans stretched from horizon to horizon, as a miniature tractor far in the distance plowed yet another field. It looked to be a beautiful late spring day with not a cloud in the sky.

He needed to call Charlie soon; let him know what’s what. He looked at his watch and pressed the date button. June 5. He’d wait a couple of hours to make sure he was up. Old geezer needed his beauty sleep.

Kylee stomped past him and down the stairs, threw her old gym bag containing the remnants of her life in the back seat and got in. Tanner got in the other side, never looking at her once. For an hour, they rode in icy silence, the sexual tension palpable. Their misplaced interlude was all she could think of, instead of her mission. She had to dump him. The static on the radio hummed in the background, barely audible. Her body thrummed with wanting him as the miles flew by.

Finally, as if Kylee could not stand being quiet another minute, she burst out, “Last night was a big mistake. Huge. It won’t happen again…I guarantee it.”

“Fine with me. You’re right. It won’t happen again. I apologize for thinking…”

“That’s your main problem, right there. You think too much.” With the wrong head, she wanted to add, but didn’t.

She pulled into a crowded Denny’s restaurant just off the freeway. Semi-trucks and motorhomes of vacationing families filled the parking lot. Kylee ordered half the menu once more, polishing off every bite with an ummm sound which, by the end of the meal, grated on Tanner’s nerves like sand on steel. She paid with another hundred dollar bill, stuffing the change into her jeans pocket. That irked him even more. He was beginning to feel like a kept man.

She drove around the back of Denny’s and into a front stall of a 7-11 next door. “I’ll be right back. Want anything?” she asked.

“A pack of Marlboro 100s, if you will.” He reached for his wallet and his last twenty, but she waved him off.

“Nasty habit. You should quit.”

The moment her charming, curvaceous butt entered the store, Tanner yanked at the glove box, intending to pry it open if he had to. It refused to budge, locked up tighter than a drum. She’d taken the keys in with her, so that avenue appeared dead. He fished around under his seat and found an old rusted screwdriver. He wedged it into the slot around the lock, and presto! The door fell open. He cautiously peered inside, half afraid she’d stuffed one of her sister’s body parts in there.

Nothing. The damn thing was as empty as Old Mother Hubbard’s cupboard. Not even a tire gauge or the car’s registration. He quickly slammed the glove box shut as Kylee emerged from the store, a small sack in hand.

“Here,” she said, tossing him the sack. He looked inside and fished out two toothbrush kits, some Jergens hand lotion, a hairbrush—and a pack of Basic Ultra lights. The short ones. He held up the smokes, a question on his lips…

“They’re better for you,” she snapped. “Get used to it.”

The thoughtfulness of her gesture was lost on him somehow. And that irked him, too. I wish she’d bought a razor, he thought as he rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin. I should have said something…

Kylee looked at the sky, then unhitched the latches to the roof, and it disappeared into the trunk. He helped her secure the snaps on the boot, and they took off. As they hit the road, Bella flagrantly topless and proud of it, Kylee glanced over, noticing the scrape marks on the glove box lock. “You opened that, didn’t you? I can’t leave you alone for one second…”

“Okay, busted. But it’s totally empty! Why did you tell me to stay out of there?”

“That’s where my sister is riding. She bites. I told you this car is haunted.”

Tanner looked at her, incredulous, then slowly started shaking his head. “You are bonkers, you know that? Completely and totally certifiably nuts.”

He reached in his jacket pocket for his cell phone. “I need to call Charlie to let him know where we are and what’s going on,” he said absently, flipping open the lid.

She grabbed the phone out of his hand and pitched it in a wide arc into the desert scrub. It looked like a strange bird in flight. “No cell phones. He can track us that way.”

“Hey! That phone cost me $450! What the hell are you doing? Just how does a serial killer running from the law get hold of cell phone transmissions?”

“Trust me. He just can. And if he finds out you’re with me, you’re not safe, either. No cell phones. No credit cards. Nothing electronic attached to our names. That’s why I emptied my 401K and brought cash. We’ll need it where we’re going. Maybe we can find a pay phone somewhere and you can call Charlie from there.”

Twenty miles down the road, Kylee pulled into a gas station and got out to fill the car. “There’s a pay phone over there,” she pointed to the kiosk. “Don’t stay on too long. You never know.”

Tanner walked to the phone and dialed Charlie’s number. He answered on the first ring.

“Where are ya, Boss? Everybody’s frantic!”

“Somewhere just inside the Nevada state line. Not too sure, myself. Rest assured we’re following up on a lead and I’ll get back to you. You might want to charter a plane and get to Las Vegas before we do. Rent a car, find an obscure motel room, and wait for us. I’ll call you when we get there.” Tanner glanced across the parking lot and watched as Kylee went in to pay for the fill-up. “And don’t tell anyone where you’re going. Just get in your car and go to the airport.”

He hung up the phone and went back to the car as Kylee walked out of the station. He leaned back against the driver’s side, blocking her entry into the car.

“What are you doing? Move.” She waved a hand from side to side.

“Nope. I’m driving this time. You drove all day yesterday, and I know you must be tired because you only got three hours of sleep. Get in the other side.”

She tossed him the keys without another word and crawled into the passenger side. “Good. I am tired. Wake me when we get to Las Vegas, and you better treat Bella nice.” With that, she snuggled against the doorpost and promptly fell asleep, leaving Tanner to navigate his way back onto the interstate alone.

The miles sped by accompanied by the hum of the powerful engine and Kylee’s soft snores. She slept on, oblivious to the turmoil she stirred up inside the man driving her car. At some point, she rolled over and slumped against his side. He gently maneuvered her head so it rested on his thigh, stroking her curly hair until she slept soundly once more.

“Kylee, Kylee, Kylee. Li’l Ninja Baby. Where did you come from?” he whispered. “Why did you have to show up now, right when I don’t have time to show you what love means? You’re so starving for affection, it fairly seeps out of your pores. It wasn’t a mistake—what we did last night. It felt right. And you can bet your bottom dollar it will happen again. I’ll make sure of that.”

The miles rolled on, and by the time Tanner wheeled the car into Caesar’s Palace, Kylee was wide awake and all eyes. She’d never been to Las Vegas before, and the lights and excitement proved too much. All the way down the Strip, she’d bounced and pointed and practically knocked Tanner’s nose off by pointing at this attraction and that, from her side of Bella to his, astounded to see so many people out and about on a weeknight at ten p.m.

“Vegas never sleeps, Kylee. It’s like this twenty-four hours a day. Oh, here we are. Caesar’s Palace. The most beautiful hotel on the strip. You’ll love it.”

“Here? You want us to stay here? It must cost a fortune! Can’t you find a safe, out-of-the-way motel?” she exclaimed as they pulled in the valet parking driveway. As she got out, she shoved the bank bag with slightly less than twenty grand in it into her gym bag and carried it with her.

“Nope. We’re staying here. We’ve earned it, but at these prices, I can only afford one room. Because I’m using my FBI American Express, Headquarters will bitch at two rooms,” he lied. “Don’t worry. It’s a corporate card, not attached to any individual. The killer will never trace this.”

“Okay, I hope it doesn’t come back and bite us in the butt.” She turned to the valet. “You take good care of my car and there’s a nice tip in it.” She winked at the burly young man who took his place behind the wheel. He grinned at her and peeled a little rubber, just to see her reaction. She laughed, getting the joke. They had a silent understanding now. She needn’t worry about Bella for a second.

They walked up to the front desk, bold as brass, Tanner acting as if they belonged there.

“Watch what happens when I hand the desk clerk this,” Tanner said behind his hand, holding out his Platinum American Express card. The moment the man saw the logo on the card, his eyes lit up, but he quickly shielded himself with professionalism. Two bellmen came running at a crook of his finger.

Kylee felt a little silly carrying her oversized gym bag with its oh-so-important cargo into the opulent lobby, and even sillier when the clerk asked if the porters might get the rest of their luggage. “Don’t have any,” they blurted in unison as they ran for the elevator, leaving two bewildered bellmen in their wake.

Tanner punched the 17th floor and leaned back on the handrail, grinning like the canary that ate the cat.

Figures he punched 17, Kylee thought. She’d place money on room 1717. Tanner stopped in front of their room, and sure enough, the door read 1717. Thanks, Keira, she silently sent Heavenward with a grin. This number was their protectorate. Their sign to each other. She burst out laughing.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. Private joke.” She swept into the room, noticing two queen-sized beds not nearly far enough apart. Dropping her bag on a chair, she immediately set out rearranging the furniture. She placed every movable piece in a line between the two beds, pushing her own bed smack against the far wall, right under the window. She checked the roof overhang right below their balcony for easy escape, if necessary.

“There,” she said, dusting off her hands.

Tanner burst out laughing. He’d watched her frantically shift table after chair after TV stand right down the middle of the room for fifteen minutes, and couldn’t figure out what the devil she was doing. It finally dawned on him. “You think that will keep me on my side? Think again.” Inside of two seconds, he appeared next to her, like magic. Before she could think or even breathe, he flipped her flat on her back on the bed and pinned her with a hand on her crotch and his arm around her neck.

“Wait…” she started to wail before his mouth claimed hers.

He kissed her hard at first, mostly to silence her, then softer, gentler, teasing her lips with his tongue until she moaned. His right hand undid the top button of her jeans and slid the zipper silently down, marveling at the smooth tautness of her belly. He lifted the lace of her panties with one finger, then dipped into the center of her, rubbing gently until she undulated involuntarily against his hand. He wiggled his middle finger deeper and then out again, repeatedly and deliberately dragging against her bud. Kylee groaned out loud and plunged her tongue in his mouth to match his probing digit. He left her mouth to lift her shirt and then her bra as he suckled hungrily at her breast, teasing the nipple with his tongue.

Within seconds, the rhythmic orgasmic clutching of her femininity gave him the answer he needed. No, this wasn’t a mistake. She responded to his touch like no other woman before her, even his wife. She moved him with her unabashed honesty and raw sexual need. He’d never met anyone half as sexy as her, even filthy dirty. Her wounded soul touched him somehow.

As her breathing slowed, he grinned at her. She opened her shining eyes, flushed cheeks all aglow, and slapped his face—hard. She shoved him sideways off the bed, and leapt to her feet.

“How dare you! I told you no more sex! I have to concentrate and you’re weakening me!”

“I’m sorry, Ninj’! Really! You’re just so damned irresistible. I can’t help it.”

“Well, just like Cher says in Moonstruck, snap out of it! You’re supposed to be a help, not a hindrance. I cannot be your private whore!”

That hurt like a knife in his chest. Shocked at his own insensitivity, he stood up and wrapped his arms around her. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry if I made you feel like that. Let me make it up to you.” He stroked her back in supplication. “I’ll take you to dinner and maybe a little gambling, if you’re up to it.”

He watched as her eyes lit up. “Crab legs? Maybe we could find a seafood place.”

“It figures food would cheer you up. Come on.”

They left the disheveled room and caught the elevator down to the restaurant. They followed the signs pointing to an all-you-can-eat buffet promising crab and salmon on the menu. Too bad the kitchen didn’t see Kylee coming.


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