Deep Freeze (West Coast 1)

Something moved behind her. Soft, stealthy footsteps in the snow.

Josh moved then—slid, really—his body falling across the seat of the pickup, his eyes staring up sightlessly, blood staining the front of his black shirt. A dark, oozing gash sliced across his throat.

Cassie screamed. Turned. Saw her attacker and felt him pin her against the car. Frantically, she kicked and clawed, slammed her fist into his nose. Beneath his ski mask, he yelped. She kicked upward, aiming for his groin, but, as if anticipating her attack, he shifted so that her knee hit him in the thigh. Over his shoulder she spied something, a movement. Her heart soared for an instant, thinking it might be help—and then she spied Allie.

“Run!” she shrieked, still fighting. “Run, run, run!!!!!”

Her attacker glanced over his shoulder. “Son of a bitch!” he growled in a familiar voice Cassie felt she should recognize.

“Run!” she yelled. “Get help!”

Allie took off through the trees, darting into the thicket.

“Shit!”

Cassie slid from his grasp, but he caught her again, his gloved hands catching her stocking cap. It came off and his fingers snagged in her hair. He pulled so roughly she was yanked backward, her feet slipping from beneath her. She fell into the snow and he was on top of her in an instant, strong legs straddling her, his crotch stretched beneath her breasts, one arm grabbing both her wrists and holding them over her head.

She flailed and bucked, but he didn’t seem to notice as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a device that looked like the remote control to the television.

A second later he pressed it against her throat and Cassie’s body jolted, electricity zapping through her tissues to leave her helpless as a lamb. She moaned, couldn’t move, and just before she blacked out she sent up a prayer that Allie would be safe.

CHAPTER 43

The vigil fast became a media circus. Despite the bad weather, half the citizens of Falls Crossing gathered with candles in the square and walked into the church where Reverend Swaggert asked them all to pray, gave a short sermon, and seemed to turn on for the cameras. Jenna told herself that she was being overly suspicious, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something about the service seemed, if not phony, at least all for show. Oh, sure, the preacher cried a little, claimed that Lynnetta was his “personal angel sent from heaven,” and prayed fiercely for the other women as well. Flowers decorated the altar, along with large posters of each woman’s face, propped on easels and looking out at those in attendance. Jenna, head bowed, sneaked a glance at the display while Derwin Swaggert, his eyes closed, sweat beading on his red face, held onto the top of the pulpit in a white-knuckled death grip.

The lights flickered.

People looked up from their prayers while the reverend’s voice, filled with supplication and reverence, droned on. Jenna tried to concentrate on his words, but the wind had picked up again, whooshing around the building.

Again the lights winked.

Carter’s hand was on her elbow.

“You’d think God was listening,” Rinda said, just as the lights went out. But the church wasn’t in darkness, not with everyone holding candles.

Even the reverend’s eyes opened and he held up his hands, quieting the crowd that had begun to whisper and shift. “The Father is with us,” he proclaimed, “and we pray that He’s with Sonja, Roxie, and my precious Lynnetta. Peace be with you and good night.”

Slowly they filed out of the church, brushing up against other townspeople, whispering as they walked outside and moved slowly down the front steps of the church to the dark streets. Rinda paused, turning her back to the wind as she tried to call her son, then gave up in frustration. The windows of the surrounding businesses were dark, the streetlights out, the only illumination from candles, flashlights, and headlights of cars and trucks passing through the town.

Carter’s cell phone rang and he paused, pulling the phone out of his pocket. “Carter…what? Great…the power’s out in town here, too. Yeah…” His conversation became muffled.

“Jenna!”

She turned and spied Travis Settler making his way through the crowd to her. He had his daughter’s gloved hand clasped tightly in his. In her free hand she carried a votive candle.

“Is Allie here?” Dani asked, her wiry brown hair poking out from beneath her ski cap in wild loops.

“She stayed home tonight. Didn’t feel all that great.”

“Bummer,” Dani said.

“We were hoping she could come over and spend the night. Dani wants to go ice-skating on the pond we’ve got out back.”

“Maybe tomorrow, if she feels better…and we have electricity,” Jenna said and felt Shane step closer to her.

Travis glanced at Carter, then at Jenna. “Let’s hope the power isn’t out for the night.”

“I think it’s cool,” Dani said, her hazel eyes alive in the faint glow of her candle. That was Dani, always ready for action.