"Yes." The bitterness in Spade's voice was clear despite the sounds of a shower turning on. "I left it for Denise in case of an emergency."
Sarah used it to cart away Francine and Lisa instead, probably stuffing them in the trunk after binding and gagging them. If she really wanted to ensure a smooth ride, she'd have bashed them in the head and knocked them out for the trip. Just thinking about it made me want to bash my own head in frustration. From the looks of Denise, they'd been gone for hours, long enough to be far away by now. Sarah probably put her plan into action shortly after Spade left to meet us at the facility.
Maybe she left something that would give us a clue as to where she was taking them. I doubted it, but just standing around was making me crazy. I left the ruined bedroom and went downstairs, looking for trash cans. Please let Sarah be stupid enough to have jotted down incriminating information on something, then thrown it away.
"I'm surprised you didn't hear any of her plans from her thoughts, Crispin," I heard Ian say.
"They were scattered, unstable, and frequently incoherent. I thought it was because of Kramer's abuse, not malicious intentions," was Bones's measured reply. "Believe me, I wish I'd paid closer attention."
Me too, but the brief time we'd spent with Sarah had been mostly while we were flying. That made her scream mentally and verbally-not much coherency there. Then while we waited for Spade, she'd only shown a fear of vampires-understandable ninety-nine percent of the time with people who had just found out about their existence-and a desire to meet Lisa and Francine.
Boy, had we been wrong about her motivations behind that. The other sickening part of this whole situation was the knowledge that if Sarah was Kramer's accomplice, not his third intended victim, that woman was still out there. As if in pitiless reminder of how time was running out, I passed a clock on my way to the kitchen. Five minutes after three in the morning, making it officially October 31. Halloween was upon us, and we'd been the ones tricked all over the place.
"One of us should fly over the area to see if we can spot the car while the others stay here and search for clues," I stated, heading for the trash can in the corner. "Someone should go by Elisabeth's apartment, too. Kramer might have damaged her phone after she sent that last text, and there's still a third victim to be found. Maybe Elisabeth's noticed another woman who Kramer's been hanging around-"
"I know who the third woman is," Bones stated.
That stopped me in the process of pulling out wadded-up bits of food, paper, and packages from the kitchen trash can. He came down the stairs, his expression frozen into beautifully sculpted, unyielding planes.
"You do? How? Who is she?"
That dark brown gaze didn't waver despite the babble of questions I lobbed at him. "It's you, Kitten."
"Me?" I blurted in disbelief. All activity upstairs ground to a halt from the sudden silence. "It's not me. Why would you even think-"
"You're the only one who fits," he cut me off. "Who else has Kramer fixated on these past several weeks? You. He followed you around even before he knew we were setting a trap for him, always attacking you first except the one time I was kissing you, and he tried to kill me for it. The time frame of when he picks his victims fits because he met you right when Francine and Lisa said he started tormenting them. You've suffered recent tragedies like they have. You've been staying in the Sioux City area. He even had Sarah try to hang your cat! Why would he do that unless he considered Helsing to be your familiar as he did with Lisa's and Francine's cats?"
"He knows animals can sense him," I whispered, reeling at all the points Bones brought up.
"Sarah didn't do a thing to Dexter, did she?" he noted. "You fit Kramer's profile perfectly save for one thing-you're not single. But he has a plan to separate you from me, and I'm telling you now, I won't allow it to happen."
I scoffed to cover the realization snaking through me that everything Bones said made sense. What was the first thing I'd done when I met Kramer? Told him I had witchcraft in my veins and sicced a bunch of Remnants on him. He'd called me a witch from that day on, among other choice names, and talked about how I would burn, but I'd brushed that off as meaningless ranting. Too late, I realized that nothing Kramer did was meaningless.
I'd been so sure I'd beat him because he'd vastly underestimated me. Looked like I'd been the one to vastly underestimate him.
"Kramer knows he can't separate us," I began, then the final realization hit me, making my jaw clench shut.
Not unless I thought by going to him alone, I could save Francine and Lisa.
Bones's smile was more a twisting of his lips. "That's right, luv, which is why I expect it won't be long until you're visited by a ghost."
Ian left the house to do a flyover of the surrounding areas on the off chance that Sarah was dumb enough to park Spade's car where it could be seen. Spade stayed upstairs with Denise, cleaning her up and accelerating her healing by giving her some of his blood. From what I could hear, she was sleeping almost normally now, her pulse no longer weak or thready. Bones was on Spade's laptop, hacking into every account of Sarah's he could find to see if she owned or rented any other properties where she might have taken Francine and Lisa. We could hope she'd been that dumb, but if she was directed by Kramer, I doubted it. The ghost had proven to be more than clever, and there were so many empty, abandoned places they could use that wouldn't leave a trail leading back to Sarah, it would be a miracle if we found anything that way.
I found Helsing hiding underneath the family room couch, flattened out to fit in the narrow space. I had to lift it for him to crawl out, then spent several minutes coaxing him onto my lap. He hissed if my hand brushed his neck when I petted him, either out of bad memories or bruising. Or both. Dexter stayed by my feet, seeking the reassurance of closeness but not daring to jump on the couch where he'd be in range of Helsing's swatting paws.
Tyler and my mother were on their way over. No need for them to wait until later anymore. Bones fitted the broken front door back over the space, using nails to hold it in place since the hinges were damaged beyond repair. Anyone coming or going would have to use the back door. Sage burned softly in every room, preventing any type of spectral commuting. Even so, Kramer's presence seemed to loom in the house, mocking us from the scent of blood permeating through the closed bedroom door where Denise had been shot to the jars of sage that we had to keep refilling and relighting. When I heard rustling outside that wasn't caused by the wind or the natural sounds of wildlife, I wasn't surprised. I eased my kitty off my lap, careful not to jostle him since he had to be sore from Sarah's rough treatment, and stood.