Deep within the Mind

By Teresa J. Reasor

Superstition, Kentucky harbors the largest supernatural population in the state. Mythical creatures and people with unusual abilities rub shoulders with average men and women in the small mountain town.
Vet Harper Montgomery has a secret. She’s a powerful psychic who hides behind her professional persona—until she has a vision of a child abducted by a monster and rescues her.
When she starts experiencing more unusual visions and reports them, she captures a Superstition police detective’s interest.
Detective Miles Barrett is new to Superstition, Kentucky and unaware of the hidden part of the population he serves, until he meets Harper. He doesn’t believe in her ability, but he’s searching for a monster who’s already killed four women while leaving behind almost no evidence, so he’s willing to give Harper a chance.
For the first time in her life, Harper is having more and more trouble controlling her gift, until she realizes she’s under attack by an evil too powerful to comprehend.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Teresa J. Reasor
• Release date: May 24, 2022
• ISBN: 9781940047447

Teresa J. Reasor

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Teresa Reasor was born in Southeastern Kentucky, but grew up a Marine Corps brat. The love of reading instilled in her in Kindergarten at Parris Island, South Carolina made books her friends during the many transfers her father's military career entailed. The transition from reading to writing came easily to her and she penned her first book in second grade. But it wasn’t until 2007 that her first published work was released.After twenty-one years as an Art Teacher and ten years as a part time College Instructor, she’s now retired and living her dream as a full time Writer.Her body of work includes both full-length novels and shorter pieces in many different genres, Military Romantic Suspense, Paranormal Romance, Fantasy Romance, Historical Romance, Contemporary Romance, and Children’s Books.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Harper bolted upright on the cusp of a dream and cried out as a lance of pain pierced her temples. She groaned aloud at the familiar agony that always accompanied a vision. To fight would only cause her more pain, so she allowed herself to succumb as her consciousness was dragged toward another place and time.

She was swallowed by darkness, and an overwhelming fear enveloped her, paralyzing her muscles and making it impossible to breathe. The soft sniff and hiccup of a child’s muffled sobs sounded close by.

Her attention split between the vision and reality when Gabby, her two-year-old pit bull-husky mix, padded to Harper’s bed, got up on her hind legs with her big paws propped on the side of the mattress, and made a sound somewhere between a bark and a growl.

Shhh… Harper rested a soothing hand on Gabby’s big head while she focused on the child in her vision.

What was the girl seeing that terrified her so much? Harper caught the impression of an enormous shape and the color red.

But the vision had lines across it, dividing it into narrow bands. Harper gave her head a quick shake. Why couldn’t she see things more clearly?

The closet door was jerked open and a figure, blood-soaked and dressed in black, loomed over the child. His black ski mask covered all but the shape of his eyes.

A shrill scream pierced Harper’s brain, and she covered her ears.

Huge, bloody hands grabbed the little girl and jerked her out of the closet.

He covered her mouth with his hand until he could duct tape it, her weak struggles nothing to him as he bound her hands and feet.

He tore off the blood-saturated black coverall and the shoe covers and stuffed them into a plastic bag, and lifting the child to his shoulder, he strode out of the bedroom and down a short hallway.

Once again Harper couldn’t suck enough air into her lungs.

Inside his pickup truck, the man shoved the child into the passenger seat and fastened the safety belt. The purple shadows of trees flicked past the driver’s window. He, too, was in shadow, his clothes ink black, his features obscured by the mask.

Let me see for you, Harper murmured. The child looked out the window as they passed a street sign, but the vehicle was moving too fast for her to read it. When he stopped to turn, she recognized the marker for highway twenty-five west, a rural route she often had to take out to see her large animal patients at local farms.

Harper eased out of bed and fumbled for her clothes, her inner eye focused on the child and the dark void that now surrounded her. A bird fluttered around the blank center of the vision, its cry the distinctive trill of a whip-poor-will.

She threw off her nightgown, dragged on a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, and jammed her feet into tennis shoes.

Gabby, come. Harper stayed focused on her tenuous connection with the child while she shoved the choke chain over the dog’s head, grabbed her cell phone and her keys, and opened the front door.

Gabby, knowing they were going somewhere, led the way to the platinum-colored Rogue, and, as soon as Harper opened the door, jumped in and settled herself in the front passenger seat.

Harper slid behind the wheel and closed her eyes, trying to maintain the fragile hold she had on the child’s emotions, that were fading in and out like a radio signal. She backed out of the driveway and turned west toward highway 25.

She had never received thoughts from two people at one time, but it was happening now.

*     *     *

Fog hugged the ground like a scarf winding between the trees. Heavy, opaque patches of it obscured the road ahead while the heavy engine growled its way up the mountain road. The vehicle passed a road sign with the symbol for curved road ahead.

He glanced over at the child. She’d finally stopped crying, but snot trailed like snail slime across her cheek above the duct tape he used to cover her mouth. He’d bound her hands and feet with the tape to keep her still during the drive. Goddamn it! She was supposed to be spending the night with her father. The first and middle weekend of the month, like clockwork.

Her fucking dad would regret being gone when his kid disappeared and he never saw her again.

He had no choice. Even though she was young, he couldn’t leave her. She could have seen his face before he put the mask back on.

The turnoff for the camp came up sooner than he expected. He didn’t bother to turn on his blinker. With the fog, it would be as ineffective as a lightning bug in a blizzard anyway.

The road wound back into the trees for a hundred yards, to abandoned cabins standing sentinel over what had at one time been a boys’ summer camp. Though the obstacle course and practice fields were still there, the cabins were rotting and unsafe. But they would provide cover for what he was about to do.

He pulled up to the largest cabin, got out of the pickup, and went around to the passenger side. Repugnance slowed his movements as he slipped his hands under the kid and hefted her like a sack of potatoes. She let out a terrified, piercing wail. She felt…frail. He could snap her neck without breaking a sweat. She stared at him with her mother’s eyes, reminding him of what he’d done.

He felt no remorse. Why should he? Her mother hadn’t provided what he needed. It was taking more and more effort to sustain contact with them while he searched for her. For a moment he wondered if the kid could give him what he needed. He could sense she had some of her mother’s talents. But she wasn’t strong enough…not yet. And he’d burned out the need for the time being.

He grabbed his bag up off the pickup floor and pushed the door shut with his elbow, then mounted the steps to the cabin and shoved open the door.

The interior was pitch black, the thick cover of the trees blocking any light that stars or moon might have provided. He set his bag on the floor just inside the door, lay the kid on her back beside it, and flipped the switch on the battery-powered camp light. The child wiggled like a worm, trying to get away. He laughed, scooped her up again and lay her on the ragged futon that was already here when he found this place.

He unzipped his bag and withdrew a vial and a syringe. He wasn’t totally heartless, so she’d never feel a thing. He plunged the needle into her bare thigh and she squealed.

She barely had time to cry out before her eyes rolled back in her head and she was out.

*     *     *

Harper pulled off into the emergency lane on the side of the mountain road. The abrupt end of the connection with the girl made her ears pop and her temples pound.

Gabby whined beside her. She automatically reached over to stroke the dog. It’s okay.

But it wasn’t. Would the child be one of the eight deaths she’d foreseen? Was this the beginning, or had more come before?

Had he killed the child? Wouldn’t she know if he had? Wouldn’t she have felt a sudden surge of fear. Instead, it was as though the child had been dropped into a pit. What was happening to her now?

She couldn’t call the police. They’d think she was crazy, like so many others. Though she used her gifts every day, she spent most of her time hiding them. To suddenly come out of the closet now would shake the foundation of her whole life.

The darkness seemed less dense, and along the horizon a hint of dawn seemed imminent, though the fog still lingered. Two transfer trucks blew by, the wash of air pushed ahead of them rocking her vehicle. Gabby whined again.

It was dangerous to just sit on the side of the road like this. But she couldn’t turn back.

She needed to try and find the girl. She couldn’t give up. Not yet.

She wouldn’t allow herself to think about the man. Every time she did, she relived the child’s paralyzing fear. She kept seeing his clothes soaked with blood, his gloves, too.

Harper put the car in gear and pulled back on the road. The growl of her motor as it took the hills reminded her of the sound of his engine. She passed another sign for curves ahead, one of many. A mile farther along, a sign made of weathered logs and a board came into view. The writing on it was barely discernable and partially hidden by a clump of hedge. She slowed to a crawl and pulled over to aim her headlights at the sign. It read Bible Creek Boy’s Camp.

Her hands trembled on the steering wheel. The road, little more than a dirt trail, disappeared into darkness beneath a thick cluster of trees. She decided that if she saw a pickup parked anywhere, she’d throw the car into reverse and get the hell out of there.

She drove along the trail slowly, her heart racing terror, making it nearly impossible for her to take a full breath.

Finally a cluster of dilapidated cabins spread out ahead. This was the place. And there were no vehicles parked anywhere.

Time to call the police. She reached for her phone. Zero bars. Shit!

Gabby, come. She left her car running in case they needed to make a fast getaway, grabbed Gabby’s leash, and opened the door. Gabby jumped down and immediately went nose to the ground.

Gabby rushed Harper past two of the smaller cabins and headed toward the only one with a dull glow coming from around its door.

When she hesitated outside, Gabby took the decision out of her hands, nosed the door open, slid through the crack, and immediately went to the child resting on a filthy futon and began sniffing her and whining.

The child was four or five, her clothes caked with dried blood, her face smeared with dry mucous from her nose, and she was barely breathing. She had to get her to a hospital.

Harper peeled off the tape covering the child’s mouth and checked the pulse in her neck. It was normal, but that could change depending on what he’d given her. She leaned her ear to the child’s mouth and was relieved to feel the little girl’s breath against her cheek, slow and even. She picked her up and rushed to the door, Gabby right behind her.

She rushed around the passenger side of the car, opened the door and lay the child in the front seat, then lowered it to a reclining position. If the girl stopped breathing, she’d have to stop and do mouth-to-mouth. But first they needed to get the hell away from here.

Back seat, Gabby. She opened the back door and the dog jumped in.

Once in the car, nerves and fear set every limb atremble. She shoved the car in reverse, stomped on the gas, and backed toward one of the cabins. Then she slammed the car into drive, and its wheels shot dead leaves and dirt into the air as she raced down the overgrown drive and back out onto the main highway.

The fog was starting to dissipate and the sun had finally come up. Shaking with reaction, she checked her rearview mirror again and again, all the way down the mountain.

Once they reached the outskirts of Superstition, she allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief.

She placed a hand on the child’s chest to check her respiration, something she’d already done numerous times. Whatever the abductor gave the little girl had knocked her out, but she seemed to be breathing normally.

She took the bypass around town at seventy miles an hour. When she pulled up in front of the hospital, Harper breathed a sigh of relief. Stay, Gabby. She jumped out and ran around to the passenger side, lifted the little girl out, and rushed toward the emergency door. The automatic door slid open, as did the next one.

She ran past the waiting room to the nurses’ station. I’ve found a little girl. She’s been bound and drugged. We need a doctor now. And I need someone to call the police.

The two nurses stared at her, stunned for a second, then both leapt to their feet. One reached for the phone while the other came around the station. Come with me. She led the way through a door. She called to one of the doctors. Dr. Wallace. We need you now.

CHAPTER 2

Miles woke at the ring of the cell phone plugged in next to his bed. That and the dig of tiny claws into his skin. He groaned as he heaved Phoebe, his Himalayan, off his chest and fumbled for the cell before his eyes ever opened. Barrett, he breathed into the phone.

We have a 10-80, Detective Barrett. Two patrol cars are there waiting for you, and the scene has been secured. Detective Carver has been notified.

Miles bit back an oath, threw his legs over the side of the bed, rolled to a sitting position, and turned on the bedside lamp. Phoebe blinked at him with narrowed blue eyes, obviously miffed at being inconvenienced.

What’s the address? He fumbled for the pen that lay there with a pad. And wrote down the information while dispatch read it off to him.

The call about a corpse didn’t necessarily mean a murder. He’d actually gone nearly a month without one, and he hoped this was a heart attack or an accident—anything but another murder like the ones they’d been investigating in the area for the past three months.

With the efficiency of habit, he was on his feet and dressing as soon as he closed out the call. After throwing water on his face, brushing his teeth, and taking care of business, he threw some cat food into the bowl next to the automatic water dispenser, went to his car, keying in the address on his dash GPS, and backed out of his driveway while the unit found the location. His mind raced ahead to the site. If two patrol cars were securing the scene it was more than likely a murder.

His thoughts dwelled on the first attack here and the two bodies discovered in the next county east. He’d implored Chief Watson to put out info about the crimes and urge women in the area to take precautions. Watson used the excuse that he didn’t want to cause a panic. The real reason, the fall festival, was coming up and the town needed the tourist dollars.

If this was another woman dead because of his stalling, Miles wasn’t going to sit by and let the prick throw him or Louis under the bus when shit hit the fan.

He tried to concentrate on the directions the GPS was giving him, and within ten minutes turned left onto Whip-poor-will Lane. The houses were small lower- to middle-income structures, the yards mown and the streets clean.

It said something about Superstition, Kentucky that the citizens took pride in their small town. He’d only run across two assholes who bucked the unwritten code and let their property go. Both received a fine and a warning and cleaned up their act and their property.

Once Miles turned onto Raven Avenue he saw a growing crowd, three patrol cars, and crime scene tape stretched around the perimeter of the yard. He parked a few feet away from the first patrol unit, retrieved his flashlight, and exited the vehicle.

Miles approached the young patrol officer waiting by the sidewalk. In the dull morning light, his red hair and freckles stood out against a pale complexion. He identified himself as Officer Graham. My partner, Officer Gillespie, and I cleared the scene, sir, but didn’t touch anything. We were careful. The other two patrol officers, Norman and Bright, didn’t enter the residence. They’re stationed at the back.

He referred to a small notebook in his hand. The house belongs to a Willard Carr. It’s a rental, and I spoke to Mr. Carr. The place is rented to a single mother. Her name is Eva Barker, age 27. She has a five-year-old daughter, Cassidy. Based on his description and the DMV photo, Mrs. Barker is the body we found. He swallowed. When we cleared the house, we didn’t see the child, sir, but her bed appeared to have been slept in.

He gestured toward a vehicle nearby. Mrs. Unger arrived at seven-thirty to pick up Mrs. Barker’s daughter. They had a playdate scheduled and were going to the Knoxville Zoo. When the girl, Cassidy, didn’t come out, she called on her cell, then left her daughter locked in the car and went to the door. It was open, and she stepped in and called to Mrs. Barker and the girl. When there was no answer, she went down the hall. She says she didn’t touch anything. Officer Walker and Martin are with her.

Miles glanced at the woman sitting in the back seat of her vehicle, holding her daughter. Her eyes were red from crying. Officer Cynthia Walker sat beside the daughter and seemed to be doing a good job taking the woman’s statement.

She was hysterical and could barely speak when we got here, Graham said.

Miles controlled his expression with an effort. If this was a murder like the others and the psycho who attacked Eva Barker had her child… Jesus. His stomach turned at the thought.

You’ve done an excellent job, Officer Graham. The kid was definitely headed for detective if he could stick it out on patrol until he got more experience. After Officer Walker finishes taking the woman’s statement, see that the officer and her partner drive Mrs. Unger and her little girl home safely. And tell her I’ll touch base her later.

While I’m walking the scene, call Mr. Carr back and see if he knows if the father lives in the area. And have dispatch call the coroner.

Yes, sir, Graham said.

Miles got his kit and was putting on shoe covers and gloves in preparation for entering the premises when Detective Louis Carver pulled up. He loped up the sidewalk, flashlight in hand, and paused to also put on shoe covers and gloves from Miles’s kit. His thin face carried an expression of grave frustration.

Miles said, Officers Gillespie and Graham cleared the scene. I’ll fill you in as we go through.

He waited until they entered the house to fill Louis in on all the info Officer Graham had gathered about the victim, then added, The fucker may have taken her five-year-old daughter.

Louis looked up, his eyes wide. Jesus.

We’ll know if it’s the same guy when we see the bedroom.

First they walked through the house in the dark so they could see what the perp saw. The hardwood floors left little possibility for footprints unless blood or mud were involved. Miles saw nothing there.

The living room seemed undisturbed, as did the kitchen. A small cup with a cartoon character sat on the counter next to the sink, and the kitchen table had been set for breakfast, cereal boxes lined up behind the sugar bowl. A child’s sweater hung on the back of a chair.

They moved past into the hall—and both of them froze.

The coppery scent of blood blended with the rancid stench of other bodily fluids. A night-light cast a soft glow, more on the wall than the floor. They aimed their flashlights at the floor there, and stopped outside the first bedroom.

The child’s room was done up in blue-green, with a twin bed, a small bookcase, and a throw rug next to the bed. A mermaid was painted on the wall next to the nightstand. The bedclothes were thrown back, but there was no blood on them.

Miles took a step inside the door and directed his flashlight at the dresser. One drawer stood open, revealing small matching sets of pants and shirts folded together inside. And the layers were still neatly folded.

A sinking feeling hit his gut. The idea that an outfit could have been taken from the top without disturbing anything else didn’t help.

The only hopeful part of this was that no blood marred the room. Not even blood droplets.

He waved for Louis to go ahead of him as they progressed down the hall. Louis’s shoulders tensed before he turned to look into the room. He swung his light inside. Fuck.

Miles’s stomach muscles tightened at the rasp of Louis’s voice.

It’s him, Louis said. Same mode of entry. Same goddamn butchery.

Miles stepped in behind him to view the body. His stomach knotted, and he nearly heaved on a crime scene. Plus, the bedroom window was cracked open, allowing the cool autumn air to circulate the stench of death throughout the room.

Eva Barker lay on her back completely nude, her throat slit. A torn nightgown lay crumpled on the floor. Her hands had been duct taped to the headboard. Blood coated her torso and the bed she lay on.

He couldn’t have taken the daughter out the window, so he must have exited through the back door or the front after he killed the mother, Miles said. I’m going back out to see if Graham has located the dad. Dr. Quan will be here any minute. I’ll call forensics.

Miles left him to go back out to the porch and beckoned to Graham. Any news about the father?

He’s on his way. He lives across town and said he didn’t have the girl. This was his weekend to have her, but she had the playdate and Mrs. Unger was picking her up from here. He was upset.

That was probably the understatement of the year. I’m calling in another patrol car to take your place. When they get here, I want you and your partner to go up and down the street and canvas the neighborhood, looking for doorbell and security cameras. We could get lucky and catch something between midnight and seven. A car coming through, someone on foot.

Graham nodded. Yes, sir.

Miles requested another patrol unit and forensics. Louis appeared at the door. Forensics is on the way.

His cell phone rang. Chief Watson’s voice came across his phone. A woman walked into the hospital with a girl, 5 years old, bound with duct tape and drugged. She said she found her at the Bible Creek Boy’s Camp on I-19. The doctors are working on the kid now and I’ve sent a team to gather evidence at the hospital.

Great! He hadn’t been aware of how the child’s abduction was affecting him until some of the tension drained away.

A car pulled up and a frantic guy leapt out of it. One of the patrol officers at the sidewalk stopped him. I’ll send the father along to the hospital to make an ID. Have the team take the witness’s clothes, shoes, fingerprints, and DNA after they process the child.

Will do.

As soon as we’re finished here and the body is transported, Louis and I will drive to the camp to follow up.

He walked down the sidewalk to meet the father being held at the end of the sidewalk. Mr. Barker. I’ve had a report that a five-year-old girl has been found and taken to the hospital by a citizen. We need you to go to the hospital to ID your daughter. Another team of detectives will meet you there.

He raked his hands through thick, dark hair and looked close to tears. What’s happened to Eva?

Mr. Barker, I need you to concentrate on your daughter right now. There’s nothing you can do for your ex-wife, sir.

Barker’s gaze transferred from his face to the front door of the house. Oh God. Tears ran down his face.

Once you’ve seen your daughter, the team of detectives at the hospital will want to interview you. I’ll want to follow up later.

Whatever you need.

He needed the man to stay focused. Your daughter needs you right now. The doctors will need her medical history and other relevant information. They’re waiting for your arrival.

Okay. He looked back at the house again. He seemed unable to move. Miles beckoned to one of the patrol officers who just arrived. I need you to transport Mr. Barker to the hospital. I’ll want to follow up with you later, Mr. Barker.

The man nodded, features melted into lines of grief. The officer took Barker to the cruiser and put him in the front seat. The other officer was talking to Graham. Miles left him to pass off the crowd control and once more climbed the steps.

As he walked back down the hallway, hugging the wall to avoid contaminating the scene, he smelled the iron of blood and the stench of other things he didn’t want to think about.

As he watched Louis take pictures of the scene, of Eva Barker’s naked, mutilated body, all he could think was this was number four, and Eva Barker might still be alive if Chief Johnson had the balls to call the paper and warn the public.

CHAPTER 3

Harper slouched back in her desk chair, bent her head forward then back and shrugged her shoulders to release the tension knotting the muscles there. The three hours she spent at the hospital with the detectives knocked her surgery schedule to Smithereens. Her patients, two cats and a dog, rested comfortably, but she needed to update their charts before stepping into the rotation of seeing others. She quickly took care of the chart work, hoping to hold off the thoughts and feelings pushing through her control.

As though sensing her disquiet, Gabby came to her and rested her head on her thigh. Harper stroked her head and caressed her ears and immediately felt a lessening of the anxious tension. The dog seemed to know when Harper was getting too wound up and acted as a distraction.

During the ride from the hospital to the office, Eva Barkers’ murder was the hot topic of discussion on the radio. The repetitive, gleeful way the radio announcer kept repeating the information over and over triggered Harper’s feelings of failure.

Why couldn’t she have seen the events before they happened? Would it have done any good? Could she have prevented Eva Barker’s death?

During the vision and the taut, nerve-twisting trip up the mountain, she hadn’t allowed thoughts of Eva Barker’s probably grisly death to distract her. She’d even blocked off her reaction to the blood handprints staining Cassidy’s clothing when she found her. She’d already known the woman was dead.

But now regret settled in and her mind wandered back to Cassidy. When Harper left the hospital, the little girl was still sedated, and the doctors remained wary of giving her anything to bring her