After She's Gone (West Coast 3)

But never should she have listened to him and accepted payment for her silence. It was as if the devil himself had been whispering into her all-too-willing ears. She’d been a licensed RN at the time, but because of Jim moving from job to job, she’d never settled into one clinic or hospital for more than a year or so.

And so she’d ended up at Mercy.

As a temporary employee, a nurse that “floated” from one area or floor to the next, to help out wherever she was needed most. Her job wasn’t secure in the least, and her hours had been cut over and over again.

So she’d done the unthinkable.

She’d not only sold out; she’d sold her soul in the process.

God forgive me.

For a second she thought God was speaking to her, that the little crucifix seemed to glow in the darkness, almost as if it were reflecting light, but that, of course, was impossible in this Stygian night where the rain mixed with fog, and she felt more isolated than she ever had in her life.

She turned off at the lane that was barely visible, just twin ruts choked with weeds that cut through the ferns, berry vines, and fir trees. Branches scraped the sides of the SUV and mud splattered up from potholes as she veered into a clearing wherein her father’s old fishing cabin still sat. The wood walls had grayed, the roof was covered in moss, and the lean-to carport had collapsed years before. The porch sagged and a few stones had fallen off the chimney, but the rest of the cabin was sturdy enough, just dirty and in the middle of no-damned-where.

This was definitely no way to live, she thought as the beams of her headlights washed against the windows.

For just a second, she thought she saw a shadow behind the glass, a movement of the tattered curtains her mother had sewn decades before. But as she stared more closely, she saw nothing and decided her nerves were just stretched tight.

Her cell phone beeped and she jumped, her heart nearly collapsing. The screen lit up and she saw the message was from Sonja.

Cops were here. Looking 4u.

Belva stared at the screen for a few minutes as she tried to calm down. The phone was a disposable that she’d bought a while back, supposedly untraceable, as was Sonja’s, but who really knew? She should never have stepped into this mess, should have gone directly to the police. Maybe the fact that they were tracking her down was a good sign. She wrote back: I will take care of it.

How?

You’re making promises you can’t keep.

K. Sonja had responded. Short for okay.

That was it. Sonja was making as little contact as possible, as they’d agreed. “Message received,” Belva said and climbed out of the car. Once more she considered going to the police. Maybe they could protect her because once she broke her silence, she knew there would be hell to pay. In so many ways. She wasn’t the only one involved. Innocent people would be hurt.

They already have, if your suspicions are correct.

Again she made the sign of the cross and sent up a prayer as she made her way up the creaky stairs. Dear Lord, the night was cold. Damp. Fog drifting in smoke-like tendrils through the trees. She unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Immediately she sensed something was different. Off. Not quite right. Or was it just her case of nerves? Shivering, she reached for the light switch and flipped it.

Nothing happened.

The room remained dark aside from a weak red glow emanating from beneath the ashes of the banked fire. “What in heaven’s name?” she whispered, wondering if there was even an extra bulb or if she’d have to find a way to light the damned lantern on the mantel above the blackened firebox. Did it even have any oil in it or would she have to forget the lantern and use only the light from the nearly dead fire?

The hairs on the back of her neck stiffened. She squinted, her muscles tense. Slowly, eyes searching, telling herself nothing was amiss, she started toward the stone fireplace.

Ssssssss!

Sweet Jesus!

A sibilant sound, so like the hiss of a snake swept through the room.

Belva stopped dead in her tracks. Her heart leapt to her throat.

Her skin prickled as she strained to listen.

She heard nothing, no scratch of footprints. No slither of scales against floorboards. No movement or breathing.

Swallowing back her fear she took another step.