it was just a month ago that Mimi Rand, a local socialite, had returned to town with a baby she claimed was Flint’s brother Theo’s, the result of one night the two had spent together.
She’d arrived at Theo’s house, introduced him to the three-month-old little girl and then collapsed.
Dr. Lucas Rand, the head doctor at the Dead River Clinic had worked desperately to save the woman, who was also his ex-wife, but she had died anyway. By the time of her death, another man was dead along with two children, also suffering from the same mysterious symptoms.
When Flint’s grandmother, Dottie Colton, had fallen ill along with a teenage boy, the town was shut down by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
Overnight the town had transformed from a small tight-knit community to something out of a science-fiction film. CDC trailers and equipment now surrounded the Dead River Clinic, and National Guard and other security forces, who looked like space men in their HAZMAT gear and guns, formed a perimeter around the town. Nobody in...nobody out.
With warm air finally blowing out of her car’s heater vents, Nina pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward Grace Willard’s small home.
She hoped her words to Molly proved true, that Grace had a simple cold or a common case of the flu and not the Dead River virus, of which the initial symptoms were very similar but then escalated quickly until the patient was deathly ill with severe respiratory issues and a high fever.
Nina wasn’t afraid for herself by going to Grace’s house. She figured she’d already been exposed to the virus day after day with the stream of people who came into the diner to eat. Of course, as a waitress, Grace would have the same kind of exposure and so would Billy.
There had also been the escape of a hardened criminal and Molly’s heartbreak, and all of these issues had changed the very heart and soul of Dead River.
Everyone regarded everyone else with suspicion, wondering who might be sick with the mysterious illness or who might be some sort of carrier. Then there were the suspicions of who might be helping the two fugitives in town, killer Hank Bittard and Molly’s jerk, Jimmy Johnson.
She desperately hoped that the Thanksgiving feast she had planned would bring people together, bring back a sense of community and remind everyone that they were all in this mess together, but the holiday was still weeks away. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem likely that a cure would be found by then.
Just before turning onto the side street where Grace lived, she frowned and slowed as she saw a couple near the streetlamp just ahead. As she drove closer, a sense of horror swept through her.
In the spill of illumination from the light, she could now see that it was a man and a woman. The man had a rope around the woman’s neck, and although Nina couldn’t hear a scream or a single indication of the woman’s terror, she felt it ripple through her blood.
Nina stopped her car, unsure what she should do but knowing she needed to do something and fast. It would take her too long to dig her cell phone out of her purse and call for help.
Still, if she didn’t do something quickly she knew that the woman would be strangled to death. She opened her car door and stepped halfway out.
“Hey,” she cried out. “Hey, you, let her go!”
At that moment the woman fell to the ground in a boneless drop that made Nina realize it was too late, the woman was definitely unconscious or possibly dead. As the man raised his head and stared at her, Nina’s heartbeat raced with a frantic rhythm.
He started toward her, and she nearly stumbled as she got back into her car and locked the doors. She had to get out of here and fast. Her heart nearly halted as she realized her car had stopped running.
“Come on, come on,” she cried as she turned the key and heard the familiar grinding noise. She glanced out the window to see that the man was getting closer...closer.
“Please,” she begged as she pumped the gas and tried to start the car again, knowing that if she didn’t get rolling she was a sitting duck for a man who had just possibly committed a murder right in front of her eyes.
Terrified, sobbing gasps escaped Nina, and she cried out in relief as headlights appeared from a car coming from the opposite direction on the road. Maybe the presence of another car, of other people, would stop the man and save her.
Her engine finally started. For a single instant her gaze caught the killer’s, his cold and glittering with unsuppressed rage.
She threw her car into gear and spun out, nearly losing control of it in an effort to escape the scene. She sped down the residential road, passing Grace’s house as she continued to play and replay in her mind what had just happened, what she had just seen.
She needed to get to the police station. Maybe the woman on the ground wasn’t really dead, but had just been strangled to unconsciousness. If Nina got help soon enough, maybe she could still be saved.
Surely the man had run from the scene when he’d seen the other car coming and knew that if he stuck around, there would be more witnesses to what he had done.
A glance in her rearview mirror showed no car pursuing her. She hadn’t even seen a vehicle near the corner where the man might have come from, but she’d been riveted to the struggle, not looking for nearby cars.
It took her only minutes to pull onto Main Street and squeal to a halt in front of the police station. She jumped out of the car and raced inside, still crying with shock and fear.
She flew past Glenda McDonald, who worked the night shift at the front desk. “Hey, wait,” Glenda yelled in protest as Nina burst through the door that led into the inner sanctum of the station.
Flint appeared seemingly from nowhere and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Nina, what’s wrong?” he asked urgently.
“I...I think I just saw a murder.” She was once again overwhelmed by sobs as she tried to choke out what had happened. She was vaguely aware of Officer Mike Harriman moving closer to where they stood with Flint still firmly grasping her.
She feared that if he released his hold on her, she’d fall to the floor as her legs shook so badly beneath her, and she couldn’t halt the violent trembling of her entire body.
“Where did this happen?” Flint asked, his handsome features tense, and his green eyes piercing as he stared at her intently.
“At the corner of Cherry and Oak Street. I was on my way to Grace Willard’s house when I saw them struggling near the streetlight. I think he killed her, Flint. I think she was dead when I drove off.”
Flint gave a nod to Mike, who immediately left, taking with him Officer Sam Blair. Flint guided Nina to a chair and gently pushed her to sit. He knelt down to one knee, his calm demeanor a counter to the terror that still screamed silently inside her.
He didn’t speak for several moments, and she finally stopped crying and felt his calm slowly sweeping through her. Even the scent of his woodsy cologne smelled of safety.
“Better?” he asked.
She
