Say You'll Haunt Me

By Penny Childs

On a dark, snowy night, vacationing FBI Agent Jason Mackenzie is on his way to visit with a friend when he stumbles across something far more interesting than the usual fishing and poker games. A woman poised on the railing of a bridge, ready to jump. Or so it appears. While trying to talk her down from the railing, the first doubts cross Jason’s mind. And when the woman leaps into the sure death of the icy waters below, he jumps in to save her and sets off a chain of events which he could not have foreseen.

Samantha O’Connell doesn’t remember why she was standing on the bridge railing—and even more worrisome—how she got there in the first place. Was it a suicide attempt or something much more sinister? Determined to help her find the answer to that question, Jason soon learns how one simple question can lead to many more; and how one secret, at the center of it all, can be deadly. In order to protect Samantha, he must break all the rules. Kidnapping her from a mental institution and hiding her away is only the beginning. A reluctant family’s secrets must be uncovered, and one of them is willing to kill to keep them buried.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brighton Publishing LLC
• Release date: Oct 29, 2011

Book preview

Chapter One

She felt something cold and delicate touch her high on her cheek. That was what made her open her eyes. Then came the confusion. Something landed on an eyelash as her eyes fluttered open. A snowflake. Where the hell was she? Outside. She could see the dark sky, the stars. Cold. She was cold. Putting her arms around herself and shivering, she finally looked down because her feet weren’t just cold—they were freezing. She didn’t have shoes or socks on. Then she noted with alarm that the only solid ground under her feet was an eight inch wide ledge of concrete. Below that, nothing. She cocked her head, looking harder. Water. There was water below. She could hear it.

Realization hit her with enough force to make her suck in a breath, putting her dangerously off-balance. With some effort, she steadied herself. She was standing on the railing of a bridge in the middle of the night, in March, wearing only jeans and a T-shirt. The fact that she had no idea how she got there scared her more than the fact that she was there. For a moment. Until she looked down again. She was also afraid of heights and was now frozen in place.

Oh, God, she whispered, knowing she had to move, had to try to sit down. If she could sit down, she could maneuver her way to the street surface. She tried, but her knees refused to unlock. Calm down. She had to calm down. A silent scream escaped her lips.

Shaking her head back and forth, she squeezed her eyes shut, overwhelmed with terror. Blackouts. She was having blackouts again. She had never awakened in a dangerous situation, though. It had always been harmless. She’d wake up at the kitchen table, on the couch, once in the spare bedroom. Never on the railing of a freaking bridge.

You have to move, she told herself as a cold wind pushed at her back. Fall backwards, she commanded herself. But she could not make herself do that either. What if she tried it and her feet came out from under her and she fell off the bridge anyway? Shit, shit, shit, she muttered miserably. She knew where she was and knew the chances of someone driving by to help her were slim to none. She also knew how far down the water was—a thought which prevented her from moving in any direction.

He’s on his way. Hold on.

Great. You again. The voice was back. Which should not have been a surprise, since the blackouts were obviously back, as well. She really needed to have her therapist evaluate her dosages.

He’s coming.

Who’s coming?

He’ll help you.

He’d better hurry, then. She could feel the ice under her feet melting and getting slippery.

***

Federal Agent Jason Mackenzie drove slowly along the back road. Somehow, he had managed to take a wrong turn, even with the use of the GPS. This didn’t bother or surprise him. It happened to him sometimes, and the GPS assured him that if he stayed on his current course, he would come to the highway he was looking for in the first place.

It had started snowing lightly, but the roads were still clear. He wanted to get where he was going before the storm hit, though, and getting turned around wasn’t helping.

He was on a vacation he really didn’t want to take. He liked his work. He liked the intensity of it. The intensity of it was the major reason his supervisor had insisted he take a couple of weeks off. He had managed to capture a killer but lost the killer’s hostage in the process. It bothered him, but made him want to dig into another case, instead of taking time off and thinking about it. He did not want to think about it.

Goddamnit, he muttered crossly, thinking about it. Thinking about the look on her face when she realized her abductor was going to cut her throat. Thinking about all of the what ifs. Reaching forward, he cranked the volume up on the stereo in an effort to drown out his thoughts. It wasn’t working as well as he hoped, but what he saw ahead in the wash of his headlights did.

By reflex, he slammed on the brakes, and when the SUV came to a halt, he just sat and stared out the windshield for a moment. The light showed a woman standing on the bridge railing, unmoving. This is not my area, he muttered. He did not handle jumpers. He didn’t even know where to begin to try and talk someone out of killing themselves. In fact, he had always been a firm believer in letting people do it, if that’s what they really wanted. But now, faced with it, he felt an overwhelming need to try and stop her.

She needs you.

It was a soft whisper in his head. He heard them sometimes, those quiet whispers which guided him. All right, he grumbled. But this isn’t my thing.

Instead of driving further and taking the risk of scaring her, he got out of his truck, leaving it in the middle of the road, door open. He walked slowly, noting she only wore jeans and a T-shirt. She had no shoes on. It was early March in Michigan, too cold to be running around like that, though he supposed if one were going to kill oneself, it really didn’t matter.

He didn’t want to frighten her, but he had to make her aware of him. If he got too close and scared her, she could fall. He almost barked out laughter at the irony of that thought.

Hey, he said quietly, stopping a few feet behind her.

He saw her shoulders stiffen.

Hey, why don’t you come on down from there? Whatever it is can’t be that bad. He grimaced, thinking his lame attempt might actually drive her to jump.

I’m scared, she whispered.

He barely heard her. Then let me help you. Give me one of your hands and I’ll help you down.

I can’t.

She was shivering so badly, he was afraid it would cause her to slip and fall. Sure you can, just put one of your arms down and reach back a little. She was too high on the railing for him to try grabbing her and pulling her back toward the road without risking pushing her the other way. She was going to have to help him out. Seeing that she was not moving, he said, C’mon, reach back. He extended a hand he knew she could not see.

I’m afraid if I move, I’ll fall, she said miserably.

Those words alone caused Jason to start. Afraid she would fall? Hadn’t that been her intention? He wondered if she had changed her mind once she was up there, but something told him that was not the case.

"You’re going to fall if you don’t move," he told her.

Finally, he saw her arms relax around her, saw one of them moving down to allow her hand to rest next to her hip. For the first time, he also saw that she was standing on ice. Ice which was melting under her bare feet. When he saw her foot move on the ice, he sucked in a breath, knowing it was going to come out from under her. He jumped toward her hand, knowing in his gut that their fingers would not touch.

As she twisted around, he saw the startled look in her eyes turn to sheer terror. Her scream echoed in his head even after she was gone.

He knew he should call the cops. But what he knew he should do and what he did do were two entirely different things. Not thinking, moving purely on instinct, he hopped up on the ledge and jumped in after her.

The water was colder than he had imagined it would be, literally taking his breath away; and as he went under, he had to fight the urge to panic and just let himself rise to the surface. Once his head broke through the water, he sucked in a breath and swore profusely. Then he stilled himself, listening. He heard her sputtering downriver, not too far from him, and started swimming with the current, knowing he would not last long in this frigid water. Neither would she.

Hey! he called out. Move toward the bank! He thought he could see her face in the moonlight, pale and bobbing along. He also thought he could see her moving in the direction he suggested. As he gained on her, he became sure of it.

When he finally reached her, he grabbed hold of her arm with fingers which were numb with cold and began dragging her toward the shore. Struggling against the fatigue the cold water was causing, he finally managed to get to the shore. Crawling, he pulled her along until they were both on their backs, sucking air and looking up at the stars.

We have to move, he told her, sitting up, teeth chattering. When she just continued to lie there, he leaned over her, forcing her to look at him. You hear me?

I…heard…you, she stammered between chattering teeth.

Pushing himself to his feet, he bent over and offered her a hand. He couldn’t help but notice how small her hand was in his as he pulled her to her feet. Her feet were bare, he remembered. He had to get her somewhere warm.

Shit, he muttered, looking back toward the bridge which was some four hundred yards behind them and up a steep embankment covered in deep snow and ice. He wasn’t sure he’d make it that far, being wet and this cold, much less that she would.

There are houses along the river, she told him, starting to move in the opposite direction of the bridge.

As he drew alongside her, he asked, You live around here?

Yeah.

And you almost died here, he said dryly. How poetic.

At this, she turned her gaze to him but said nothing.

Now he saw where she was taking him. A small cabin sat back from the river. All the lights were out.

When they reached the door, she banged on it with the sides of her fists, grimacing in pain. After waiting a few moments and hearing nothing from inside, she put her forehead on the door and groaned. I don’t think anyone is home.

I don’t either but we have to get in there anyway. Stand back.

She gave him a cautious look and backed away from the door.

With his elbow, he broke the glass alongside the door, carefully reached in through the broken glass, disengaged the deadbolt, and opened the door. After you, he told her, waving her on.

Stepping inside, she found a light switch and tried it, getting nothing. Must be seasonal residents. No electricity.

Which probably means no damn furnace then, Jason grumbled as he closed the door. Leaving a trail of water on the floor behind himself, he fumbled his way through the small cabin until he found the kitchen. He began rummaging through the drawers until he found what he was looking for. Pulling the flashlight out, he prayed the batteries were still good. The light was a sickly yellow, but it was light, nonetheless.

There’s a fireplace and a pile of wood, she called from another part of the cabin.

Rummaging again, he came up with matches and went toward where he had heard her voice. She was on the floor in front of the fireplace, unmoving. Kneeling down, he turned her to her back for a moment, checking her breath and pulse. She was alive, but he knew she had to be even colder than he was. Putting down the matches and flashlight, he picked up her unconscious form and took her to the couch. He found an afghan draped across the back and pulled it over her, knowing it would do little good. He needed to get the fire going so he could warm up enough to get back to his truck and get help.

***

She awoke next in another unfamiliar place, but not to an unfamiliar sound. Her parents were fighting. At least some things never changed. Too tired to bother keeping her eyes open, she let them drift shut again and just listened to the sound of bickering. It had become almost like a lullaby as she grew up.

It’s time to admit she’s a danger to herself, Evelyn.

Rick, please, you can’t have her locked away. Not again.

"She almost killed herself this time. We have to do something drastic, before she does."

She heard someone approach her bed, and then felt her mother take one of her hands in hers. I just don’t know if it’s the best thing for her.

Well, killing herself isn’t good for her either. He paused. For God’s sake, Evelyn, she almost got the federal agent who rescued her killed too.

Federal agent?

I’ve already made the arrangements. This is the end of the discussion. His voice was sharp and clipped; she knew the tone well. Whatever decision he had come to, he would be standing firm. She’ll check into Rosemont as soon as she’s released from here.

Rosemont? The mental hospital? Now her eyes flew open, her gaze landing on her father. No, she said. No way. Panic flowed through her in waves. She couldn’t do another stint there.

Her father turned to her, running a hand through his silver hair. Samantha, he said softly, coming to her bedside. Love and concern were at war on his face.

You’re not putting me in that loony bin again, Father, her voice was hoarse, but strong, though her hands shook uncontrollably.

It’s not up for discussion, Samantha. We have to do this, for your own good, he told her firmly.

Mother? she asked, looking to her beseechingly.

Her mother shook her head. She had no control over what her ex-husband did. She never had, even when they were married. Are you cold? she asked, instead. Samantha’s entire body had started to shake.

No, she’s not cold, Rick said almost wearily. She hasn’t been able to take any of her medications. The doctor told us to expect this.

Withdrawal. She hated withdrawal.

Well, maybe we should get them for her, Evelyn suggested.

Her father shook his head. The doctor at Rosemont wants to see her first.

I’m not going there again, Father, Samantha said. Didn’t he understand what it would do to her?

He scrubbed his chin, looking at her with hardness in his eyes. It was the look he used to give the criminals who showed up in his court begging him to show them mercy. He had never been known for his leniency. You’ll go there if I decide it’s best for you. And I have.

I’m thirty years old, Father. You can’t make my decisions for me.

You don’t think so? I have a court order which says I can. You certainly aren’t capable of it.

Rick…

And you, he said, cutting her mother off, you have absolutely no say in this.

Father, please, I’m begging you. Don’t do this to me.

You’ve left me no choice this time. You almost killed yourself. What’s worse is that you almost caused an innocent bystander to die with you.

It won’t happen again. I promise it won’t. She was desperate now and didn’t care if he knew it.

Samantha, you blacked out. You can’t promise me it won’t happen again. You don’t have any control over your blackouts, and you know it. He shook his head again and crossed his arms over his chest. No, this is what’s best for you.

"I can’t even remember the last time I was there, Father. Please. A year and a half of my life is gone." She couldn’t bear the thought of losing even more time. But her father didn’t respond; he just continued to stare at her, letting her know that nothing she could say would change his mind.

***

Jason walked to the nurses’ station, wondering what he was thinking, coming to see her. He supposed it was more curiosity than anything else. After all, he had jumped into a freezing cold river to save her life. Wanting to meet her was only natural. He thought there might be a little more to it than it, but didn’t ponder it too closely for the moment. He was one who went with his instincts more often than not, and going to her felt like that, an instinct. A pull he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, resist.

He had been treated and released last night, after which he’d checked into a hotel room and settled in, watching the late news. That was where he put a name to the face he had rescued. Samantha O’Connell. According to the newscast, she was from a very prominent family—a senator’s daughter. Also, she’d had some mental health issues in the past, at least, according to the newsies. Not surprising, considering what she was about to do when he stumbled across her.

The nurse, whose name tag proclaimed her to be Judy, beamed a smile at him—something he was used to. A lot of women smiled at him that way. It could be useful at times.

What is it I can help you with today?

Well, I’m looking for someone.

Okay.

Samantha O’Connell.

Are you family?

Jason shook his head. No, I’m not.

Well then, I’m sorry but… She was looking closely at him as though trying to figure out where she had seen him before. Wait a minute, she said, placing him. You’re the man who fished her out of the river, aren’t you? I saw your picture on the news.

Guilty as charged, he told her. Look, I just wanted to see how she’s doing, that’s all. I understand if you have a policy.

Well, I would think we could bend it just a little for you, since you did save her life and all. She’s just down the hall, room 302. Now she made a face. Just don’t tell her father you got the information from me. He can be… She didn’t finish the thought, just shook her head.

All right, I won’t, Jason promised with a grin. Wouldn’t want to get you in any trouble.

He headed down the hall, stopping in the doorway of the room when he reached it. Inside, a man stood at the end of the bed, and a woman was in a chair, holding the patient’s hand. He presumed these were her parents. Clearing his throat to announce his presence, he smiled at both of them when they looked his way. Excuse me, he said. I’m Jason Mackenzie. I don’t mean to intrude. I just wanted to stop by and see how she’s doing today.

Rick O’Connell narrowed his eyes suspiciously. She’s doing just fine, Agent Mackenzie.

Jason looked from the woman in the bed to Senator O’Connell. He didn’t like the way he answered for his daughter. He also didn’t like what he could only describe as the look of complete defeat on Samantha’s face. "I was asking her," he said deliberately, earning himself a look of surprise from both the woman by the bed and the woman lying in it.

Ignoring his statement, Senator O’Connell said, She’s extremely tired. We were just getting ready to leave so she could get some rest. His tone implied that Jason should leave as well.

I’ll only be a minute. He held Rick’s gaze for several seconds, and then looked to Samantha. Is that okay?

Sam’s eyes went to her father. Jason could clearly read Senator O’Connell’s look: he wanted her to tell Jason to leave. Of course it is. I should at least get an opportunity to thank you.

Shooting her a steely look, Senator O’Connell frowned, and then looked to the woman by the bed. C’mon, we have to get some of her things and drop them off at the hospital. With one last look at Jason, he stalked out of the room.

The woman stood and smiled at Jason. I’m Evelyn Rourke, Samantha’s mother. I’m sorry about him, he’s… upset.

He’s something, Jason said dryly.

I’d better get going, but I just want to thank you so much for risking your own life to save my daughter.

I’m sure anyone else would have done the same, he told her, slightly embarrassed.

I’m not so sure about that. With a nod, Evelyn left them alone.