Midnight Exposure (Midnight #1)(81)

“I’m sorry, Mandy.” Out of the corner of his eye, Reed saw Jed getting to his feet, ever ready to defend Mandy. Reed exhaled to the count of three. His feet had stopped moving, but his body was strung tight enough to snap. He jumped as a weight settled on his arm. Jayne squeezed hard. Reed drew strength from the contact and wrestled his vocal cords into submission. “It’s important.”

Jed stepped up behind Mandy. With two hands on her upper arms, he gently moved her to the side so he could plant himself between her and Reed. “I left Doug at Aaron’s place. Nathan was supposed to meet him there.”

Reed caught Jayne’s eye and tilted his head toward the waitress.

Jayne stepped in. “Hey, Mandy, I could use a glass of water.”

Mandy backed away with obvious relief. She and Jayne headed for the kitchen. Reed dropped his voice to a whisper and told Jed about the photo.

“Son of a bitch,” Jed said. “I can’t believe Aaron would do something like that. The cancer must have rotted his brain.”

“I’m going to drive out to Nathan’s place. I have to find Aaron. Any idea where else he might go?”

Jed concentrated hard enough to make Reed’s head hurt. “How about his hunting cabin?”

Reed had no idea what Aaron was up to, but any kind of weird pagan ritual would need seclusion, more seclusion than Nathan’s house would afford. And tonight was the solstice. “Is it isolated?”

“Oh, yeah. Nobody goes out there. It’s not that far from Aaron’s place as the crow flies, but there’s no real road. Dumb spot for hunting, if you ask me. He’s got some woods right around the cabin, but the rest of the property’s too rocky. Not enough forage for game.”

A hunting cabin that wasn’t in a great spot for hunting. Sounded perfect for other activities that required seclusion. “Will my truck make it?” Reed asked.

“Definitely. But you might have to put her in low.”

“OK. Can you give me directions?”

“I can do better than that. I’ve got trail maps in my truck.” It took Jed a minute to fetch the maps from the parking lot. He spread it out on the table and pinpointed the cabin. “I could take you out there.”

Reed debated. “No. I need you to call this man.” Reed wrote the name and number of the state police investigator on a piece of paper. “The detective’s on his way, and he’ll need someone to show him where the cabin is.”

“Got it.”

Reed sure as hell hoped so. A lot of lives depended on it. Like Scott’s.

A buzzing sound from the floor caught Reed’s attention. Jayne’s phone vibrated at his feet. He leaned down and picked it up. The external display indicated a text message from the Philadelphia Daily Scoop. Why would Jayne be getting a message from a tabloid? With a small twinge of guilt, he flipped open the phone and pressed OK.

The message was only two words.

Got pics?

She’d lied to him. She wasn’t a travel brochure photographer. Jayne was paparazzi.

“Oh. There’s my phone.” Ice clinked in the glass in Jayne’s hand. “Must have fallen out of my pocket.”

Reed handed her the phone, still open to the tabloid’s message, wordlessly. Jayne’s eyes bugged. The color bled from her face. She opened her mouth.

“I don’t have time to discuss this now.” Reed cut her off.

Jayne swallowed. “But I can explain.”

“I said I can’t deal with this right now.” Reed’s teeth ground as he pivoted and headed for the door. “I have to find Scott.”

The cab of the truck had cooled in the brief time they’d been inside the diner, but the outside temperature couldn’t compare to the chill that had swept over his heart.

“Reed, I can explain.” Jayne’s voice was strained.

Without looking at her, he shook his head. Had she already sent the photo she’d taken of him to the paper? No point in asking. Her answer couldn’t be trusted. After all, she’d offered him an explanation, but she’d never denied her betrayal.



A moan woke John. Fresh pain blasted through his body, and it wasn’t just from the recent beating. His arms were tied behind his back and securely fastened to something behind him.

In a panic he took stock. Sky over his head, ice under his ass. There was cold air at his back, but heat from a bonfire five yards away kept him from completely freezing his nuts off. He kept his eyes off the fire so his pupils wouldn’t constrict. His vision focused on the ring of wooden posts.

The tremors that rushed upward from the soles of his feet had nothing to do with the winter night.

He knew exactly where he was. The same clearing where it had all started. Where Zack had died.

Panic ripped through him with a freight train roar.

His weight strained against the ropes that bound him to the post. Rough fibers bit into his wrists. Inside his chest, his heart beat against his ribs like a frantic parakeet, trying to break free of its bone cage. But he was trapped.

An icy crackle had John jerking his head around. The old man circled the clearing, chanting. John couldn’t make out the words, but they flowed over him like a hypnotic drum. The old guy was pouring something from a jug just inside the circle. Dark liquid glugged into the snow. It was a replay of that night with Zack.