Perfectly Matched Read online

  Inside was my worst nightmare.

  Sean was lying face down on the floor, blood seeping from a head wound. Duct tape bound his hands and feet.

  “Sean,” I said, shaking him.

  He groaned softly. I made quick work of the duct tape using the handy-dandy Swiss Army knife and rolled him over.

  “Sean!” I slapped at his cheeks and tried not to look at the blood on the floor.

  He winced and moaned but didn’t open his eyes.

  I crawled to the desk and grabbed the phone. I dialed 911 only to once again get a busy signal.

  I tried again and again and finally gave up. As I went back to Sean, the lamp in the corner flickered but stayed on.

  I wanted to cry, but instead took a deep breath and slipped my hands under his armpits. He was dead weight and it was slow-going to get him out of his office and down the hallway. I paused to take a breath in the reception area. Sweat glistened on my hands, my arms, my chest. My clothes were soaked through.

  As I looked at the stairs, I tried again to revive him. There was no way I could make it down those steps with him on my own.

  “Sean!” I whispered fiercely. “Mr. Donahue!”

  He squeezed his eyes tight, then slowly opened them. He took a look at me, smiled, and passed out again.

  I glanced at the stairs, then the elevator. I had no choice.

  I pushed the call button, and the sound of the cables in the shaft echoed shrilly in the silent building.

  If Graham was lurking and didn’t know I’d arrived, he knew now.

  A loud ding punctuated the elevator’s arrival. I wrestled with the doors and dragged Sean inside. I managed to get the doors closed and as soon as I pushed the down button I let out a sigh of relief.

  Bending down, I tried again to revive Sean. With no luck whatsoever.

  The elevator lurched and the lights inside flashed. It was the longest elevator ride in history. My hands shook as I reached for the doors to open them. The inside door opened easily, but the outer door wouldn’t budge.

  I tugged and tugged and finally started kicking at it. Sweat poured off me.

  “Temper, temper,” a voice said from the vestibule.

  I jumped and let out a startled cry.

  Graham sat on the bottom step watching me calmly as he poured gasoline on the stairs and splashed it onto the walls.

  “Graham?” I said, unable to believe my eyes.

  “You were expecting someone else?” he said. “Like the Beantown Burner. Ooh, so scary. The big bad Burner.”

  I thought about the visions I’d been having and how they’d all proven true. I’d seen Sam’s house set on fire. I knew Sean was in his office. And I fully expected Bethany Hill to be alive.

  There hadn’t been a mistake, a misunderstanding of his shallow-grave vision, at all.

  He’d out-and-out lied.

  As my brain began to connect the pieces, I realized that when Graham had told me about my license, it had been the afternoon—hours before the arsonist drew a bullseye over my face and set Sam’s house on fire. Yet, Graham could only have visions of past and present events. Not future.

  There was only one explanation of how he knew what the arsonist was going to do to my license.

  Graham was the arsonist. He hadn’t been predicting anything that day in the Porcupine—he’d been telling me what he planned to do.

  I’d fallen hook, line, and sinker for his lies.

  Was he even psychic?

  “The police will be here any second,” I said, trying to sound as though I was full of confidence and not shaking in my orthopedic boot.

  “Sure they will. Just as soon as they deal with the thousands of looters and all the fires.”

  “Did you set all those fires?”

  “Some,” he said. “The rest are copycats. Some people can be so jealous.”

  I recalled what Dr. Paul had said about Graham and Annie.

  They’re the jealous sort, and there’s only room enough for one teacher’s pet in our class, don’t you think?

  “Is that what this is all about? You’re jealous of me?”

  “Don’t make me laugh. It’s you who should be jealous of me. You and Paul and that slut Annie. Even Orlinda. I have more abilities than all of you put together.”

  “Yet I’m the one who knew Bethany was still alive and not you,” I said.

  His nostrils flared and he slowly, deliberately took out a box of matches.

  “You’re making that up,” he said.

  “Am I?”

  “You’re nothing but a fraud. A phony. You make me sick,” he hissed.

  “Then how did I know Sean was here?” I countered. I had the gun, but there was no way the muzzle would fit through the outer door’s delicate brass pattern.

  “Lucky guess. How did I know about all the places Sean was connected to?”

  “Because you broke into the DCF warehouse.”

  He smiled a sickly, twisted smile. “You have no proof of that.”

  “I don’t need it. I’m psychic, remember?”

  “You’re a liar!” he shouted. “It took you weeks to even figure out that your beloved Sean was a target.” He over exaggerated a frown. “Poor Sean. He’s not so tough when a baseball bat hits his head, is he?. How come you didn’t see that coming, Ms. Psychic Pants?”

  Anger boiled in me, setting all my nerve endings on fire. I had to keep my calm. Not let him goad me. “I found your wallet, remember?”

  He ignored me. “I even left you those matchsticks. But no, you couldn’t even get a reading on those, even with your so-called new gift of psychometry. Admit it! You’re a phony. A fake!”

  “If I’m a fake, how did I see you in Sam’s house? Dousing the walls? Drawing the bullseye on my license? Stepping over that body on the floor?”

  Insanity filled his eyes. “It doesn’t much matter. There’s only room enough for one teacher’s pet in Orlinda’s group and that’s going to be me.”

  He struck the match, held it up, and smiled as he flicked it toward me.

  Flames leapt.

  I slammed the inner door of the elevator and jabbed the button for the second floor, hoping that he would think I went to the third, to the roof. As the elevator climbed, my hands shook as I dug in my bag. I grabbed the gun and my keys.

  There was a loud ding, and I lifted the door and managed to get the outer door open a few inches before Graham was there, leering at me from the landing.

  Smoke was rising from the first floor, stinging my eyes.

  My hand shook as I took aim at him. His eyes narrowed on the gun, then zipped back up to my face.

  I fired.

  The bullet went wide.

  He dove for the stairwell closest to him, which was the one going upstairs. I summoned all the strength I had and pushed the outer door of the elevator open. I heard a sound behind me and turned and fired, hitting Graham in the arm. He let out a scream and dove back into hiding.

  I dragged Sean out and over to the Valentine, Inc. door.

  “You’re not getting out of here alive,” Graham taunted.

  “Oh? Did you have a vision of that? Because I know your visions don’t come true.”

  Unlike mine.

  This was the image I’d seen when I’d touched Sean’s hand.

  Smoke completely surrounded us, and I had to feel with my fingertips to get the key into the lock.

  I coughed, my lungs starting to burn. I couldn’t tell where Graham was, but as I opened the door to the office, I fired another shot toward the stairwell, hoping he’d be scared off. I grunted and groaned as I dragged Sean into the office and closed and locked the door. I was halfway down the hallway when I heard a loud crash.

  The glass door panel.

  I doubled my pace, tugging and hobbling and nearly tripping in haste to get to my office. Graham appeared at the end of the hallway, looking like a ghost surrounded by all the smoke. In his hands he held a lit match in his hand. I raised the gun and fired again.


  He dove for the floor. As he fell, the match extinguished.

  I slammed my office door closed and barricaded it.

  I sprinted to the window, twisted its lock and lifted it up. The fire escape was our only hope. I climbed out and tried my best to lower the ladder to the ground. It was stuck.

  I cursed and climbed back in the window. I’d get Sean outside, then deal with that ladder.

  My office door vibrated as Graham rammed something into it. As I dragged Sean closer to the window, I saw fingertips slide under the door and drop a lit match onto the carpet. I stomped out the flame.

  When I turned back around, I let out an ear-splitting scream when I saw a man standing on the fire escape, peering in.

  He said, “It’s good to see you, too.”

  Jeremy Cross no longer looked like a bad boy but rather an angel. A dark angel, but still. I wasn’t in any position to be picky. “How’d you get here?”

  “The roof.”

  The door vibrated again. I could hear the frame splitting.

  “I can’t get the ladder down,” I said.

  Jeremy gave it a good yank, and it creaked downward. He leaned in and grabbed hold of Sean’s upper body. I took hold of his feet. Together, we maneuvered him through the window.

  Jeremy hoisted Sean onto his shoulder and said, “I’ve got him. Stay close behind me.”

  But just as he headed down the ladder, the door to my office finally splintered. There was another crash and the door thrust open. Graham, with a crazed look in his eye came running toward me.

  “Go! Go!” I shouted to Jeremy.

  I raised the gun and fired off a shot, but it was as if the bullet that hit Graham in the upper chest had no effect. He dove headlong through the open window toward me. I sidestepped his body and went back in through the window before he could stand up.

  I made a run for the hallway, my boot slowing me down quite a bit. Smoke filled the reception area, and I could barely see my hand in front of my face. I raced for the steps, but immediately realized that going down was out of the question. Intense heat emanated from the first floor. When I turned to go up the stairs, I felt a hand lock around my bare ankle.

  I stomped on Graham’s wrist with my boot. He yowled and I went for the stairs going up.

  I’d taken one step when he once again latched on to me. This time my arm. I twisted out of his grip, thankful for the self-defense class I’d taken, spun and jabbed toward his face, aiming for an eye. I hit something, and he cried out. I then grabbed on to both railings and lifted my leg and kicked toward his abdomen with all my might. I heard him tumbled backward, then the sound of him falling down the stairs opposite me echoed along with crackling flames.

  I could barely breathe as I dropped to my knees and crawled back into through the doorway, past Suz’s desk and down the hall. I’d just reached the windowsill to my office when Jeremy reappeared, took my arm, and helped me out.

  “Sean?” I asked.

  “Is damn lucky you found him.”

  Not as lucky as I was. Because I didn’t know what I would do without him.

  “The guy?” Jeremy asked.

  “Fell down the stairs to the first floor.”

  “A fire engine just showed up.” His gaze locked on mine. “Should I run ahead and tell the firefighters there’s a victim on the first floor?”

  I knew what he was asking me. Graham’s survival was up to me.

  Finally, I nodded.

  He gave a short nod and leapt off the ladder and sprinted around the corner.

  I found Sean on a stretcher in the back of an ambulance. He’d finally opened his eyes. The EMTs had an IV in him and an oxygen mask over his face.

  He tugged it down so he could say something to me.

  “I apparently missed all the fireworks,” he said.

  I wanted to say something snappy and sassy in return, but as I looked into his eyes and knew he was going to be okay, I threw my arms around him and burst into tears.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Dr. Paul pulled some strings and had Sean transferred to the same hospital as Preston so they could share a room.

  “Come on,” Preston said to Dr. Paul early the next morning. “Admit it about the skulls. They’re souvenirs, keepsakes.”

  “I should have your head checked while you’re here,” he said, smiling.

  There was something behind his smile, though, that had me believing that Preston was right. I wasn’t sure why I wanted to know what was truly behind the skull collection. I’d had enough traumas for the week.

  His head wrapped in gauze, Sean sipped from a cup of water and glanced at me. “Do I want to know?”

  He’d needed thirty stitches and had a severe concussion, but nothing was permanently damaged and in a few weeks he’d be just fine. Except for the emotional scars.

  “No,” I answered.

  Dr. Paul said, “I’ll go sign the paperwork for your discharges. You,” he said to Preston, “need to stay on bed rest for at least a week. You,” he said to Sean, “need to stay on bed rest for at least a week.”

  “What about me?” I said, hoping to stay in bed for a week, too. Especially if Sean was there.

  “You,” he said to me, “are out of luck.”

  He’d already expressed to me how lucky I was that my foot hadn’t been injured worse by running around without my crutches.

  I rolled my eyes.

  He took something out of his pocket and tossed it up and down. “Guess I’ll have to keep this for another person.”

  It was a small ceramic skull.

  He winked at me and walked out.

  Preston glared at me as I laughed. “He is not funny. He’s sick! Twisted.”

  “He’s kind of funny,” I said. “And he did save little baby Valentine’s life.”

  She lovingly placed her hands over her stomach. “I’m grateful, but I still think he’s a serial killer.”

  Sean chuckled as Dovie came bustling into the room, carrying a box. She set it on Preston’s lap. “A present for the baby.”

  The baby was hanging on. Preston’s anemia would need to be closely monitored for the rest of her pregnancy, but the obstetricians on staff here were confident she and the baby were going to be just fine. She was almost three months along—there would be a new addition to our family around Christmastime.

  “Where’s Cutter?” Dovie asked.

  “Getting breakfast. He’ll be back soon.”

  I glanced at the engagement ring on Preston’s finger. My brother had proposed to her last night.

  Heaven help her.

  Preston pulled open the box and her eyes grew wide as she pulled a sea foam green blanket out.

  “Hey!” I said. “That’s Ebbie’s blanket.”

  “No,” Dovie said. “It’s for my grandchild. And I’ll be taking back the bassinet, too.”

  “Over Grendel’s dead body,” I said.

  “He’ll deal,” she said airily.

  “Maybe Grendel can keep the bassinet,” Preston said, trying to keep the peace.

  “No,” Dovie said, adjusting the blankets. “It’s for the baby.”

  “But—”

  Dovie cut her off. “No.”

  Suddenly, I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “What is so funny, LucyD?” Dovie asked.

  “Yeah,” Preston echoed.

  I smiled at her. “Welcome to the family.”

  ***

  Later that afternoon, Orlinda, Marisol, and Jeremy sat in my living room. I tugged the bedroom door closed so Sean wouldn’t wake up.

  I crutched my way to my favorite chair and sat down. Grendel hopped into my lap and Ebbie sat in the middle of the coffee table. Thoreau was snuggled next to Sean in the other room.

  Orlinda said, “The Phoenix police just confirmed that Bethany Hill has been found alive and well.”

  “Was her mother really behind her kidnapping?” I asked.

  “It looks that way,” she said. “Apparently
the parents were on the verge of divorce and the mother didn’t want to share custody with the father. She staged it so it looked like Bethany was gone forever and blamed their breakup on the abduction. Bethany lived with her mother’s boyfriend until her mom joined them in Phoenix permanently.”

  “That’s sick,” Marisol said.

  “There are many deranged people in this world,” Orlinda said.

  I glanced at Jeremy, but he didn’t add to the conversation. While waiting with me at the hospital last night, he’d told me how he’d come to help at Valentine, Inc.

  Of how when he came here to discuss Ebbie with me, he’d found her with Marisol.

  Of how Ebbie told him where I was.

  At first, I didn’t remember saying anything aloud, but then I remember shouting that “he was at the office” when I had the vision of Sean.

  Ebbie had probably saved our lives.

  She swished her tail.

  Jeremy had called in another favor, and an FBI helicopter had picked him up here and flown him into Boston, dropping him onto the roof of Valentine, Inc.

  And suddenly, I wondered how involved he still was with the bureau. Even though he changed his name didn’t necessarily mean he didn’t work for them anymore...

  I noticed how Marisol kept looking Jeremy’s way and he at her, and I wondered if Ebbie had really known the two were meant to be together.

  At this point I believed anything is possible.

  Orlinda swirled the ice in her drink. “I’m still in shock over Graham.”

  We all were.

  “I don’t know how I misread him so badly,” she added. “Lucy, I’m so very sorry I introduced him into your life.”

  She’d already apologized a dozen times. “You couldn’t have known,” I said. Just the other day, Sam had something similar when we thought the arsonist was targeting Sean...and only Sean.

  Graham had kept us all guessing.

  “People like him wear good masks,” Jeremy said softly.

  Graham had been pulled out of the building alive, but he had died on the way to the hospital from severe burns. I wasn’t the least bit sorry that he was dead. Only that Sean had been dragged into a vengeance plot that was against me.

  I’d received news this morning, too, that the twenty-two year old skateboarder had died as well. The only comfort I found in the news was that Graham would no longer be able to hurt anyone else.