deepened. “You’ll lock the doors? Don’t let anyone inside?”
“Of course not,” she replied. “But it sounds like the danger has finally passed.”
For the first time since he’d gotten the call a smile curved his lips. “Yeah and Sam makes sense. He’s been at the top of our suspect list since the beginning. We just needed something to tie him to the burials. Tonight we got our break. He was actually seen fleeing from the crime scene. Now, let’s hope before you leave here tomorrow morning I’ll know what the deal is about you being an ostrich.”
She nodded. “Get out of here. They’re waiting for you.” She could feel his excitement, the need in him to move, to get to the scene.
He left and she carefully locked the door behind him. Alone. Time to pack up and face whatever discordant music awaited her in her real life.
She went into the guest room and realized she didn’t even have a suitcase to pack with the things she’d bought since being here. She grabbed a large black plastic garbage bag from the kitchen and carried it with her back to the bedroom. She had just begun to fill it when the doorbell rang.
Her heart thumped a hard rhythm for a moment even though she told herself that Sam Clemmons was the Sandman and he was in custody, caught at the scene of the latest crime.
She hurried to the living room and moved the curtain aside an inch, just enough that she could see the khaki uniform of Steven Bradley, the lovesick puppy man. She relaxed. He was probably here to do a check-in on Samantha and Scooter.
Tamara unlocked the door and eased it open at the same time Steven offered her a bright smile and opened the screen door. “Hey, Tamara, just wanted to stop by and say hi to Samantha and her new furry friend.”
“I’m sorry, Steven, they aren’t here right now. Samantha and Scooter are staying at her dad’s house for a few weeks.”
“Oh, okay. Maybe I’ll check in with them there. Or, maybe not.”
Before Tamara sensed any danger to herself, she jumped as the sting of a needle plunged into her arm. “Hey,” she exclaimed and stumbled backward a step.
Almost instantaneously her leg muscles collapsed, sending her to the floor in a heap. Trouble. The word screamed in her head. She was in trouble. She tried to move her arms in an attempt to get back to her feet, but nothing was working. She was paralyzed.
“Don’t even try to fight it,” Steven said as he stepped into the foyer and picked her up in his arms just as he probably did wounded dogs. “It’s a special concoction that took me months to perfect. Your heart will keep beating, but you can’t move.”
He carried her out of the house and with a quick glance around the neighborhood he moved to the trunk of his car where he placed her inside and slammed the lid.
Darkness. She smelled the scent of tire rubber, of oil and of impending doom. She was in trouble and nobody knew it because they thought they had the Sandman in custody. But they were wrong.
The Sandman had her in his custody.
Chapter Thirteen
By the time Seth pulled up to the main entrance of the dunes, the last gasp of sun was attempting to shine through the thickening layer of clouds. Within the next thirty minutes or so it would be dark.
He saw Sam Clemmons handcuffed and locked into the back of Atkins’s patrol car. Sam’s quad runner sat nearby. Atkins approached, his face holding a mixture of the same emotions Seth felt at the moment. It was relief and elation that Sam had been caught, mingled with the dread of discovering another dead woman.
“Since we don’t have the funds for fancy surveillance cameras, I’ve had my deputies doing drive-bys here, especially during the nighttime hours. Deputy Michaels did an evening run by here and saw that.” Atkins pointed in the distance where a hand protruded from the sand. “At the same time he saw Sam riding off hell-bent for leather. He went after Sam and got him in custody, then called me to let me know what was going on.”
Seth looked toward where the hand appeared to glow almost translucently in the last pale glow of sunlight. “He didn’t take much time to hide this one. Anyone coming in this way would see the body part. What’s Sam saying?”
“That he had nothing to do with it, that he was