After She's Gone (West Coast #3)

After She's Gone (West Coast #3) Page 186

Human skin?

An arm?

Her stomach turned in on itself.

Screaming, her voice reverberating up the shaft of the silo, she flung herself away, tried to swim in the shifting sea of grain. But the thing moved, too, and the arm stretched out, a clawlike hand scraping against her, fingernails scraping her face.

Get out, Cassie. Get the hell away from that thing!

Frantic, she pressed against the wall, circling away, the kernels swirling and swishing, almost laughing at her impotent attempts to get free.

Think, Cassie, think. Find a way to escape!

She was in a full-blown panic now, her headache thundering, her fear so real she could taste it. She moved along the edge of the cylindrical structure. The body swayed closer.

There had to be a way out. A chute to pour the grain from the silo, but where the hell was it. Where?

The ocean of grain rolled again and this time, not just the arm, but the entire torso of the unknown person fell against her. Cold. Clammy. Dead! The body hadn’t moved on its own. No. It had only shifted on the waves of grain that moved because of Cassie’s attempts to get away, and had fallen against her, nearly pinning her, the head rolling to one side.

Springy hair brushed against Cassie’s neck.

Oh. Dear. God.

She pushed it away, felt her thumb touch an eyeball that gave way under the pressure.

Cassie shriveled at the thought as she tried to put some distance between her and God, who? Who was this dead person trapped here with her? Again the body rolled closer and this time she felt a leg slide across her. She touched it long enough to fling it away and realized her fingers had brushed nylon.

In her mind’s eye she thought of the nurse who had visited her late at night. The curled hair under the cap, the white stockings.

Oh. Ick! This was Belva Nelson and she was dead?

Stomach roiling, her brain pulsing with the need to get free, she pressed harder to the sides of the silo, and her shoulder, already screaming in pain, hit something hard and metal.

A door latch?

Oh, please! A way to get out!

With an effort, she turned and fumbled at the metal.

Not a door, but the bottom rung of a ladder that stretched ever upward and back to the floor above.

Using all her strength she started climbing.

Trent’s bad leg gave way and he grabbed the edge of a post for balance near the yawning open doorway.

Silhouetted by the headlights shining through the doorway, Shane Carter, weapon drawn, made his way into the barn.

Relief swept over Trent. “Don’t shoot! It’s Kittle,” he said.

Carter looked in his direction but didn’t drop his weapon.

“They’re down there, toward the silo,” Trent said, pointing, trying to stay clear-headed as he swayed and clung to the post for support. “Someone tried to kill me and I think Cassie’s here.” But his mind was swimming; he wasn’t certain of anything.

Craaack!

A gun went off and the horses went nuts, shrieking and kicking in terror. Hud, who’d been cowering somewhere in the shadows, let out a mournful howl and belly-crawled to Trent.

“Stay!” Trent said to the dog as Carter took off running in the direction of the gunshot and Trent, moving slowly, followed.

A woman’s scream tore through the barn.

Cassie!

His heart turned black with a dread as dark as all of hell, but he kept moving and ignored the pain ripping through his body. Holding onto poles, bracing himself on sawhorses, propelling himself forward and dragging his useless leg, he wasn’t about to wait and cower in the shadows.

If something had happened to his wife, damn it, if the assassin had wounded her or killed her, he’d take the son of a bitch out himself.

Adrenaline firing her blood, Cassie started climbing the ladder, the sounds of a struggle above.

“You murdering bitch!” a woman yelled, a new voice, one that rang deep in Cassie’s soul.

Allie? Allie was here? Alive? In cahoots with this other sick sibling?

Gritting her teeth, her hands sweating from the exertion, her fingers slipping on the rungs, Cassie hauled herself up by one hand.

“Like you weren’t in on it.” The other woman. “Come on, Baby Sister, admit it, you liked to see your mother squirm and your sister”—she hissed the word—“freak out and end up in a mental hospital.”