The Uninvited
Page 46

They really had just met. That seemed to mean nothing. He felt like he’d known her forever…or been waiting to know her forever.
She was looking at him expectantly, and he asked her to try calling Standish. She nodded and rose, searching for her handbag and her cell phone. She moved so naturally and easily, comfortable with him in her nakedness.
Yes, he felt like he’d known her forever, but not so long that he didn’t feel an immediate stirring in his groin as he watched her.
Sitting on the foot of the bed, she called Standish’s cell.
“He’s not answering,” she said.
Tyler leaped out of bed, grabbing his clothes. “Call Logan and get Standish’s daughter’s number. Ask her for a location. And have her check with his cronies up at that cabin and see if he’s just gone out with them. I’m going to find him.”
Allison quickly did as he asked; meanwhile, Tyler hurried to throw water on his face and run a toothbrush over his teeth.
He’d just finished when Allison was in the bathroom beside him. “I’m not staying here,” she said.
“I want to go see if—”
“And you’re not leaving me here. It’s not safe, is it?”
He paused.
“I can shower later. Logan is calling Standish’s daughter. I’ll be ready by the time we have an address.”
He looked at her, shaking his head slightly. But she was right. She shouldn’t be alone.
Even if a murderer couldn’t be in more than one place and even if the only person who knew where they were was Logan…
“Let’s do it,” he said.
They were both ready in less than five minutes.
He was disappointed to leave the room behind.
There would be no leisurely morning.
But he found he was more taken with her than ever. When it was time to move, Allison didn’t hesitate.
* * *
As Logan drove, Allison keyed the coordinates of the cabin into the satellite navigator in the car. Logan had gotten the address from Standish’s daughter, who’d been upset but quick to understand and give them the directions. She hadn’t been able to reach her father that morning, either.
Sean was driving up with Kelsey, but Tyler and Allison would get to the cabin first.
It was about a thirty-minute drive for them. Tyler could have kicked himself for not realizing yesterday that Martin Standish might prove to be a major target for the killer, who now seemed determined to protect a lie.
The countryside was beautiful, rolling hills, forests and farmland. They climbed higher into the foothills; as they neared the cabin, the road grew narrow. A mist settled over the land, soft and lovely—and yet it was the last thing Tyler wanted right then.
A concealing mist.
Eventually, they climbed a rough stone path with the car protesting all the way. They’d arrived at the cabin, a small log structure surrounded by trees.
“There’s his truck,” Allison said, pointing out Standish’s small Ford.
She climbed out of the car. He did the same, drawing his Glock and warning her, “Stay behind me.”
“This killer isn’t going to shoot it out with you. He’s not particularly brave, just devious,” she said, and he was glad of the anger in her voice.
“Stay behind me,” he repeated.
They walked up to the cabin, with Tyler keeping a keen eye on the woods.
He banged on the front door. Standish didn’t answer. When he twisted the knob, the door opened and they went in.
It was just a small cabin, consisting of two rooms and a bath. There was a coffeepot on the counter; it was still hot.
“He’s not here,” Tyler said, stating the obvious.
“There’s his cell phone.” Allison pointed to a rough-hewn table by an old wingback chair in front of a wood-burning stove.
“So he made coffee and walked out of the cabin, leaving his cell phone behind. He doesn’t seem like the kind of man who has to have it every second, so maybe that’s not unusual.”
“Or maybe he went fishing,” Allison said hopefully. “Lots of streams in this area. And these guys come up here to go hunting. I don’t see his rifle, and I didn’t see it on the rack of his pickup truck.”
“He’s not fishing,” Tyler said. “He left because he heard something outside. He took the rifle with him.” He strode back to the door. There’d been some rain in the area recently, and he could make out what might be Standish’s footprints leading into the copse of trees to the rear of the cabin.
“Stay close!” he told Allison.
She followed him as they moved into the woods. The mist that hovered in the foothills grew thicker, and the sun couldn’t cut through the high canopy of pines. It felt as if they were in a realm of shadow where the pines could come to life and the low-hanging branches could reach out like fingers to snare the unwary.
“Allison?”
“I’m close,” she said, crashing into him as he stopped.
He nodded and kept going. He could hear a brook and they walked toward it. He paused every so often, listening. There was no breeze so the mist seemed stagnant; they heard only minor rustling when small forest denizens scurried about. Still, he found himself moving very carefully. He suddenly felt certain that someone with malicious purpose had been there, and recently. Whether that someone had fled or not, he didn’t know.
As they neared the little stream, he heard Allison cry out. “There! Oh, Tyler, there he is!”
She rushed around him and he chased after her, instinctively searching the perimeter. He could see no one.
Allison was already in the stream and down on her knees by the fallen form of Martin Standish. He was headfirst in the water, and she rolled him over.
She leaned against him. “He’s not breathing, Tyler!”
“Call 9-1-1. Get them out here as fast as possible.”
He hunkered down, checking Standish for visible wounds. Despite the icy water of the stream, he was still warm. Tyler pulled him from the rippling water onto the shore and started performing CPR, counting as he listened to Allison make the call.
She knelt down on Martin’s other side to help. Tyler instructed her, breathing into Standish’s mouth as she held his nose, and he applied pressure to the man’s chest, counting.
He was about to give up. They’d tried long and hard, and he was afraid he’d broken one of Martin’s ribs despite his best efforts to exert pressure at the perfect level.
Then Standish breathed. He gulped in a huge swallow of air and began coughing violently.
Allison looked up at Tyler. “He…he might make it!”
Tyler nodded, feeling for the man’s pulse. It was faint and irregular, but it was there. He ripped off his jacket, covering him.
Standish opened his eyes. He stared at Tyler and Allison, and seemed to recognize them.
“Voices,” he said hoarsely. “There were voices in the woods…ghosts. There were ghosts in the woods.”
His eyes closed. Allison and Tyler frowned at each other.
Tyler wanted to search the woods, but he wasn’t leaving Standish and Allison alone.
“What should we do?” she asked.
“We wait,” he said. He pulled out his cell phone to call Sean first and then Logan.
Allison watched him, her blue eyes grave. Then she looked out at the surrounding trees. “This just happened, Tyler,” she said. “If we hadn’t come when we did, he would have drowned.”
“He may still have a long haul ahead of him.”
“Voices in the woods,” she repeated. “Ghosts.”
“There were no ghosts in the woods,” Tyler said, gritting his teeth.
“Listen!” she said.
He heard it. From somewhere down in the rugged terrain of the foothills, a motor was being revved.
“Whoever it was took a different path,” he said, feeling angrier.
They never should have left Standish.
It seemed like forever before he heard Sean shouting for them. He and Kelsey came bursting through to the stream, armed and wary.
“Over here!” Allison called, although they’d been seen.
Tyler rose. “EMTs should be here any moment,” he said. “Kelsey, stay with them. Sean, I’m pretty sure our killer has fled, but I want to get into the woods.”
Kelsey crouched down by Martin Standish and Allison. Tyler, with Sean flanking him, walked back into the woods.
The mist lay everywhere among the trees.
But someone had come here. Someone who knew about Martin Standish and had been interested enough to learn his habits—and where he spent his leisure time. Someone who’d been watching the activity at the Tarleton-Dandridge House and had known, or surmised, that he and Allison had come to see Standish.
Tyler walked through the woods, away from the cabin, calling out to Sean, who was following the same path but thirty feet closer to the main road below. When he was near the edge, he came across a pine with a large broken branch. He dropped down to the earth and he could see the dirt and needles that had been disturbed. Just beyond the broken branch, the forest began to dwindle and an overgrown embankment led down to the road.
Their quarry had indeed fled.
He saw Sean break through the trees.
“He was here,” Tyler said.
Sean joined him. “Find anything?”
“I found out how he got away.”
“Did Standish say anything? Did he see anything?” Sean asked.
“Yeah, voices in the woods. Ghosts in the woods.”
“This guy is using technical devices,” Sean said. “I believe he has a copy of the Beast Bradley painting, and he substitutes it for the other when he’s stalking his prey. He has some kind of mechanism to throw his voice. I’ll bet he lured Standish to the water that way. He’s not stupid—Standish had a shotgun. If we’re lucky, our guy dropped something. I’ll have Logan see if we can get a crime scene unit to go through these woods.”
“We’ll need a unit. It’s almost impossible to see in here with the canopy of branches and the mist.”