Murder at Honeysuckle Hotel Read online

  A million thoughts raced through my mind. It figured, as soon as my luck started to turn around, I’d be a goner. Was I being punished? I thought of myself as a good person. I helped others and worked hard. Was I bad in a past life? Had karma come back to bite me in the ass? I wanted to ask what the heck this person wanted, but the grasp on me was so tight there was no way. Did he want to rob me? Surely he could have gone to a bigger town where someone with more money. And why drag me into a wooded area for that? My blood ran cold at the thought. There was only one reason to haul me into the darkness and I didn’t even want to think of it.

  The smell of grass and pine trees whirled around us—not to mention the wafting scent from the fair. Underneath the odors of fried food and cotton candy was something else. An earthy tone, but not the soil. Fresh-cut wood, maybe? I gripped my attacker’s arms with both hands. This person was definitely stronger than me. Taller than me, too. I was five foot two and I guessed his height to be five foot nine. The leather jacket my assailant wore made getting a tight grasp difficult. My fingers slipped. Who the heck wore leather in the middle of summer? Sure, it was night, but sweat made my summertime clothes cling to me. I couldn’t imagine the sauna inside that jacket—hotter than the Devil’s breathe after he ate a jalapeno sandwich.

  My screams were nothing more than muffled murmurs with the thick-gloved hand over my mouth. After a half minute of jerking around, I was in position to make a jab to the crazy person’s ribs. I raised my right arm as much as I could, and with all the force I could muster, gave a hard jab.

  I couldn’t believe what was happening. Why had I walked alone at night? A woman had been murdered. Maybe there was a serial killer. Why the heck wasn’t anyone walking on this road, anyway? Now that I thought about it, the road seemed eerily isolated. My only option for getting away was to kick. So, I did. With all the strength I could muster. His size and strength gave an obvious advantage over me, though, and thrashing got me nowhere.

  Across the road we went, the little rocks scraping the backs of my legs. My attacker yanked me around a tall oak tree. There was no way for me to get away. I wished I’d taken a survival course or self-defense. As the person carried me away from the road, the sounds of the revelers faded. The moon cast a shadow of my assailant, making him appear even larger, but his face wasn’t visible in the darkness of the woods.

  My mind raced. I wanted to claw this person’s eyes out, or kick them in the groin, anything to get away. I struggled as they pulled me farther away. Kicking and pushing, nothing worked. The hold on me felt like a vice grip squeezing as tightly as possible. How far was this person taking me? Would they kill me and bury me in the woods? What if my attacker already had the grave dug? I struggled to grab a body part—if only I could reach the head, I’d gouge their eyes out.

  A seed of terror sprouted in my stomach. The fear of being murdered and buried out there where no one would ever find me caused me to panic. My attacker continued to pull me deeper into the wooded area, and with each stride, fallen branches crackled underfoot. Faint screams rang out in the distance, and I knew my screams would blend in with the rest. My heart beat faster.

  I managed to move his hand from my mouth enough to speak. “Please, let me go. I’ll give you whatever you want. I don’t have much, but I’ll give you what I got.”

  As my assailant pulled me to the ground, they slipped on a stray rock, crumpling to their knees. I took the opportunity to break free, moving my body forward until they were forced to release their grasp, then I lurched ahead. My body hit the dirt with a thud. I stumbled, then quickly righted myself.

  I ran and the crackle of dried foliage and twigs breaking continued in my wake. I looked down, as much as I could, and watched each step. When I attempted to glance over my shoulder, I stumbled and fell to the ground, landing face-first in the leaves. At least they cushioned my fall. Now fear consumed me and I panted for air. Why had I come to the fair alone? A thorn snagged my shirt and I struggled to break free. I hurried to my feet. Then a voice echoed nearby. What was said, I couldn’t make out. The sound was only a mumble. I scampered toward the entrance of the path as fast as I could.

  I glanced down every few seconds, watching every step I took. Holes, snakes, and heaven knew what else were on the ground and I didn’t want to come across any of them. The situation seemed surreal, as if I were in a very bad movie. The kind where the bad guy kept coming back no matter how many times he’d been stabbed or shot. I’d never experienced that kind of feeling before.

  My normally good sense of direction was shot to heck. I turned in the direction I thought led to the road. My attacker lurched to their feet, then stumbled again. The moonlight filtered through the trees, giving me a full view of the dirt path. Finally something went my way.

  The urge to look back and get a look at my attacker took over. I peeked over my shoulder. The person was looking down while freeing their leg from a branch. I had to get back to the road. If they killed me in the woods no one would ever find me.

  “Help me!” Where the heck was everyone? Any other time tons of people would walk down that road.

  My voice echoed in the distance, urgency in my words—I had to get away from him. I ran forward. The footfalls of my attacker were not far behind.

  The person was headed my way—I was running out of time. Letting out another shout, I took a chance and moved to my left. I ran faster than I ever had. the person had righted themselves, but fallen back quite a bit. How would I fight this person off for much longer? Without a lot of options, I took off without looking back again. My lungs burned as I huffed each breath. Sometimes I questioned my sanity. Why had I come here alone? Was the lure of cotton candy and corn dogs that strong?

  “Get away from me,” I huffed with undisguised anger.

  The person didn’t answer, which was somehow scarier than if they had.

  Power surged through me as I made my way to the opposite edge of the wooded area. Only twenty feet away and I’d be back onto the road. I didn’t really have a plan, per se, but if I reached it, I figured I could run down the road and maybe lose him. Trees whizzed by in my peripheral vision. The wind whipped through my hair. The uneven ground, along with my pants, made running difficult. My shoes seemed even higher with each step, making running even harder.

  As the fair wound down, the crowd’s frantic shouts became fainter and fainter as I ran. I glanced over my shoulder to gauge how much distance I’d put between us: not enough, because his dark shadow loomed dangerously close. Picking up my speed, I darted back to my right. Skirting around a tree, within seconds I jumped, and climbed back onto the gravel road. I made little noise as I landed on the rocks. A whoosh of air escaped my lungs when I landed on my stomach.

  “Help!” My voice echoed across the field, but I knew no one heard me. It was like a deserted island.

  There was not enough time to mentally debate. If I ran to the fair, the gate might be closed. I couldn’t chance it. The way home at least had houses I could run to if I needed. Without giving it another thought, I made an immediate left. My attacker stumbled as he made his way up the embankment and onto the gravel road. He sure was clumsy. Lucky for me. It gave me much needed seconds to plan my escape.

  After running down the road for several seconds, the main road came into sight. I prayed I could outrun him and reach home before being stabbed to death. Maybe he’d gotten hurt—twisted an ankle or something. That would slow him down. Apparently he was terrible in gym class, too. With my heart hammering in my chest, I ran as fast as I could down the uneven gravel. Instead of enjoying the night air, fatty foods and silly carnival games, I was running down the winding ribbon of gravel lane with a psycho hot on my heels. Finally, I came to the road and reached the edge of downtown. Darkness blanketed the streets of Honeysuckle. Even the houses were completely dark. I knew I wouldn’t bump into the police, or a friendly face for that matter. The only creatures stirring were crickets. I’d have to save my own tushy.

  At that
moment, my side hurt and I needed an oxygen tank or something. Running was getting the best of me. Thank goodness small-town life offered the advantage of never being that far from home. Easier to run away from a deranged killer that way. I hadn’t grunted and groaned as much since trying out for high-school cheerleader.

  I didn’t dare turn around; it would only slow me down and I was afraid of what I might see. Up ahead I spotted Honeysuckle Supermarket with its dull gray façade and dirty front awning and knew I was almost home. Dark homes lined the sidewalks. Were people in bed already? The air was still and not a single soul was in sight. I remained on the sidewalk, trying to stay under the brightness from the streetlights. At the least, I could run into the store, but my new home made me feel safe—even with the murder scene in the backyard.

  The surrounding area next to the store loomed shadowy, so I decided I would definitely be safer at home. Locked in the house, the hoodlum wouldn’t get me. My panting grew louder, amplified by the silence. I prayed the crazy psycho wouldn’t hear me. Sucking in a mouthful of air, I tried to slow the hammering of my heart against my ribs. Footsteps approached, and heavy breathing gave the presence away. He panted worse than I did. The swoosh of his footsteps hitting the pavement echoed as he sprinted behind me. I was afraid to look back. If my attacker was there I’d probably faint on the spot. I’d come really close to meeting the same fate as Nancy Harper. I’d thought small towns were safe. How wrong was I?

  Breaking free into the moonlight, I didn’t pause to catch my breath. There was no time. I glanced around, but no movement caught my eye. I scrambled up the embankment. As if a light bulb went off, a realization hit me. The killer knew where I lived and would probably follow me home. But what choice did I have? I had nowhere else to go. Claire Ann wasn’t home. My panting continued as I ran as fast as my legs allowed. I had the heebie-jeebies and I wasn’t sure I’d ever shake them.

  My feet pounded against the sidewalk. I was in shock; I couldn’t believe I’d escaped. My screams echoed off the buildings, but if anyone heard, they didn’t run to my rescue. Based on remembering bits of my mother’s lectures on safety, I figured the best thing I could do was draw attention. Maybe he’d leave. I was nearly halfway home before I even bothered to glance over my shoulder again. He wasn’t there. Thank goodness. I’d made my way home alive. How? I wasn’t sure.

  The street had seemed unusually dark. Maybe my fear clouded my perception of his distance. When I made it into the house and locked the door behind me, I yanked the phone out of my pocket, then punched in 911. I’d wanted nothing more than to be secure in my own home. My new safe haven. But was I really secure? A dead body in the back yard and footsteps indoors didn’t make me feel all warm and cozy on the inside.

  With the door secure, I let out a deep breath and tried to steady my breathing. I didn't know what to do. Who had attacked me? If the police hurried, maybe they’d find the creep still lurking around outside. Finally the 911 operator picked up and I explained to her that I’d been attacked. I recognized Sherry’s voice—thank goodness it wasn’t Joan again. Although Sherry didn’t seem convinced that I wasn’t trying to pull a prank on her. It was a good thing my attacker wasn’t stabbing me while I waited on her to decide.

  “Sherry Meyer, I let you use those coupons even though they’d expired. You owe me, now quit questioning me and send someone out.”

  “You’re at Mrs. Mathers’ house? Are you sure you didn’t just see a shadow?”

  I felt like banging my head on the wall. “It’s my house now! And someone did chase me.”

  “Okay, okay. Don’t get your drawers in a wad. I’ll send someone over.”

  I let out a deep breath. “Thank you.” It was like pulling teeth.

  Would Kent show up? I looked like hell. But I couldn’t exactly put on lip gloss before he arrived. That would look a bit weird. And why was I worrying about makeup at a time like this, anyway?

  After clicking off the phone, I inched around to every window and pulled down the old shades. I prayed the person wasn’t outside trying to get in. Or what if someone was already inside? Oh, dear, I hadn’t thought of that scenario. After all, the killer obviously knew where I lived. Paranoia had officially set in.

  What was taking the police so long now? The lightbulb went off—they were probably all just leaving the county fair. Too stuffed with corn dogs and elephant ears to worry about a little thing like crime. Kent was the only one whose waist line was trim. And muscles hard... Focus, Rae, focus.

  The knock on the door made me almost jump out of my skin.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Who is it?” I barely croaked the words out. My legs shook. The person on the other side of the door probably heard my knees knocking.

  “It’s Sheriff Klein.” The husky voice floated through the wood door.

  Add stomach flutters to my fear. Even in a time like this he made my insides do a few flips. I peeked out the shade. I knew it was his voice, but what if someone had a gun to his head. I supposed I did have an active imagination, but I was just attacked, I deserved a little slack. The porch light lit his gorgeous face, showcasing the strong cheekbones, blond hair and dreamy eyes. He looked out of place on my porch, unless he was modeling for a magazine. But I was positive a photo shoot would never be held in Honeysuckle, much less right outside my front door.

  “You going to let me in or do I have to break down the door?”

  “Sorry.” I fumbled with the lock and eased the door open just enough to let him by. His distinct scent tickled my nose as he moved past. I shut the door behind him and wanted to lock it, but figured he might frown upon my erratic behavior. When he thought of me I didn’t want the word nutcase to come to mind.

  “What’s going on?” He frowned. “Are you okay? Did someone break in?” He looked me up and down. “Are you hurt?”

  The lip gloss didn’t seem like such a stupid idea now. I looked down at my clothing. Dirt covered my shirt and pants. My hands were scuffed up and filthy.

  “No. I stumbled, but I’ll be all right.” I wiped my hands on my pants. “Someone attacked me on my way to the fair. He dragged me clear into the woods.” I showcased the scratches on my arms for dramatic effect.

  “Do you need to go to the hospital? Here, come sit down.”

  He took me by the elbow and led me over to the sofa. His masculine scent circled me again, making the butterflies return, not that they’d completely disappeared since he’d showed up. I sat on the cushion and shifted from one side to the other. The sofa was just as lumpy as the mattress. I couldn’t relax. Not after the latest incident. Visions of the dark figure, then Nancy’s bloody body raced through my mind.

  “Take a deep breath and tell me what happened.”

  “I got off work. Closed the store at ten. It took me a while to clean up. With the mopping and stuff, you know.” I ran my fingers through my hair and pulled out a leaf. “After I was done at almost eleven, I went out the back door, called Claire Ann and decided to head to the fairgrounds for a few. I wanted to see if she wanted to go with me.”

  I thought I saw a slight smirk on his face.

  “What? I can’t go to the fair? Everybody goes, right?”

  “No, no, you can. I was there, that’s all.”

  Was he thinking about going to the fair with me? Sharing a cotton candy? We could have snuggled up on the ferris wheel together.

  “So you walked by yourself? At night, after a murder just took place in town?” he asked.

  Now that he put it that way, it didn’t seem like the best idea. But Honeysuckle had always been safe, and it was hard to get that concept out of my head. “Yeah.” I nodded.

  He shook his head. “Go on.”

  “When I stepped outside and saw it was a beautiful night, like I said, I called Claire Ann, then I walked in the direction of the gate that I thought was the main entrance. Now I realize I was wrong. They should let people know if they’re going to change things, you know?”

  “Why
didn’t you call someone to walk with you? Walking alone in the woods isn’t a great plan.”

  I smirked. “I wasn’t walking in the woods, and besides, who would I call? You?” I gave him a cross look. I wasn’t sure if I was irritated because he interrupted me or if he questioned why I did something.

  Kent took a seat across from me in the old rocking chair, stretching his long legs out in front of him. His thighs bulged under the restraint of his uniform pants. He looked around at the lace and dolls. Oh dear Lord, he thought they were mine. In his eyes I was a deranged doll collector. Not just any dolls, but creepy weird dolls. Did he think I had some kind of weird doll obsession? Never mind, focus, I reminded myself.

  “I was attacked by a deranged sociopath. I need you to find my attacker A.S.A.P. Why do you keep looking around? Stop that.”

  “I’ve never been in here before. Not a lot of distress calls from Mrs. Mathers.”

  What was that supposed to mean? It was only my second call. “I didn’t need to call the police either until I found the dead body in my backyard.” I hadn’t meant to raise my voice quite so much, but I was distraught. He’d have to overlook it. Besides, I really hadn’t ever had to call the police before. Except for that one time Ross was into his gun collecting and stored his handgun in his back pocket. It only took out a little chunk of flesh, but it was never the same after that.

  “Hold on.” He held up his index finger and lifted his radio to his ever-sensual lips.

  Was it getting hotter? I needed to turn up the air. He called for an officer to go to the fairgrounds and check it out. I knew the attacker wouldn’t be there. But maybe they would find some kind of evidence.

  “You're sure you’re okay? You want to let me take a look at those scratches?”

  What a tempting offer. “No, no. Physically I’m fine. I don’t know about mentally. It’s been a crazy week. Getting this house. Finding the body and now this? Not sure how much more I can handle.”