https://youtu.be/srlUuVVhCek

Chapter Thirty-One: Powerless Changes

"Gwen! I found you. I knew I'd find you! I missed you so much," Bailey cried.

Gwen couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so warm as Bailey wrapped her arms around her. "I knew you'd find me too!" she said, sobbing into Bailey's shoulder.

"Gwen, we should do this more often." Gwen's mother grinned and patted her shoulder as she settled against the large beach towel. The white sand from the beach clung to her mother's ankle, glittering like diamonds.

"Gwen, can you put some of that tanning stuff on my back?" Bailey asked from Gwen's other side.

"Gwen, no! She burns too easily. Bailey, you need sun screen, not tanning lotion! I'd like to actually be able to hold my girlfriend tonight without her flinching because of a sun burn!" Damien said, standing above them with sheen of sweat glistening across his forehead from playing tackle football with Oliver and Greyson.

"Gwen, baby, let's go for a little dip. I found a sandbar far enough away that we can—" Oliver paused and wiggled his eyebrows.

The whisper of the waves smacking against the shore and the shouts of happy laughter drifted away as the morphine she'd been injected with wore off. Gwen cringed with pain as she tried to sit up only to be smacked in the head by the top of the coffin she'd been buried in. Tears spilled out and the dirt accumulation mixed with the salty droplets left stinging trails down her cheeks. Her shoulders shook as she wrapped her arms around her midriff. Closing her eyes, she silently begged her mind to let her drift back off to sleep. It would be better to die in her sleep.

"Please," she whispered. "Bailey, find me."

__

"Bailey, find me."

Bailey paused at the whispered words in her mind. Gwen. It was Gwen. Wasn't it?

"Here ya go," Peter said, offering a smile as he pulled the car directly up the Atherton's drive.

She was going to ask him how he knew, but realized it would be a stupid question. Peter Hayes, father to the Firewoman—Eliza—that saved her from the car accident, was a telepath. He'd proved it to the point where Bailey wouldn't question it.

Bailey nodded her thanks. "Can you—"

"Of course, I'll wait right here, but you should know there's someone walking around the grounds."

Bailey's hand paused over the handle of the passenger door and swallowed, "Someone unfriendly?"

Peter's brows furrowed. "I can't tell. I'm just getting words that don't make sense. He's got a powerful wall around his thoughts."

Wes Lambert... Sheriff Lambert.

"This Lambert fella the guy kidnappin' those poor girls?" Peter asked.

Bailey paused and half turned in the passenger seat. The grim look Peter gave her let her know that he understood and he quickly unbuckled his seat belt.

"What are you doing?" Bailey asked.

"Well now, I can't let you go out there by yourself."

"Is there-is there anyone in the house?"

Peter shrugged. "I'm not Superman! I can't hear through walls!"

Could Superman even hear through walls?

"Well, hell, I don't know," Peter said, scratching the top of his head.

"You know, I can see how you might be a little irritating," Bailey said.

He raised a bushy eyebrow. "You're an awful lot like my Eliza. Now, better go see if the parents are inside before this guy comes closer. I'll watch your back."

Bailey nodded and quickly got out of his Taxi. Cautiously jogging towards the front door, Bailey banged loud enough that someone inside could hear, but hopefully not loud enough for Lambert to hear.

"Hello? Mrs. Atherton, it's Bailey. Something's happened to Damien. Hello?"

Bailey continued to knock on the front door. Every second that went by when they didn't answer made her pound harder, reddening her knuckles from the force. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Peter was still with her before she put more force into her knock. It was too hard. She cursed and pulled her hand back sudden split in her skin starting oozing blood.

"Peter, I'm gonna try around back!"

Quickly, she ran around the long winding driveway, towards the glass pool room with the spiraled staircase, but saw no one she wanted to see.

"Bailey! What the hell is going on around here?"

"Sh-" her voice hiccupped, but she cleared her throat and tried again, "Sheriff Lambert."

He settled his hands on his hips, right next to the gun he had said he never carried when she'd first met him. She swallowed as she felt beads of sweat accumulating on her forehead.

"My cell phone has been dead and I don't have my squad car. I finally charged my phone and saw Wilson called me multiple times to get over to the Atherton house. Any idea what's going on?"

Bailey nodded slowly and took a step back. "Yes. Damien's been shot."

His charcoal colored eyebrows snapped together. "What?"

"Shot by the nurse that took care of me after my car accident," Bailey said, taking another step away from Lambert and towards the Atherton's pool house, "which, as it turns out, he was also responsible for."

"Jesus," he mumbled and shifted his weight, "I go on a mini-vacation and the town goes to hell. So where's Sam?"

Bailey took two steps back. "Sam?"

"Samantha Levy. Wilson told me you found her."

Bailey stopped moving backwards. She knew it had been Lambert before but now there was no denying it. She had never told Wilson about Sam. In fact, she was pretty sure Sam was still in Bailey's closet waiting for her.

Sheriff Wes Lambert, used-to-be town hero, was the serial killing rapist of Haven.

Bailey's heart pounded, but she tried to keep a stoic expression. "Did he?" Bailey asked, hoping to keep him distracted long enough so that she could run to Peter and his Taxi.

"Yeah. You're acting strange, Bailey. Taking steps back to get away from me? Have you done something illegal again?"

That's rich... coming from a killer.

Bailey raised her eyebrow. "Have you?"

Something dangerous flashed in his eyes. His stance widened, and his hand plopped down on the gun in his holster, fiddling with the buckle that wrapped around it. "Bailey, why would you ask that?"

"Why are you carrying a gun? You said you never carry it."

"Why do you think I've done something illegal?" he asked again, taking a long stride towards her.

"Bailey! What on Earth are you doing here?"

The scream bubbling in her throat caught and Bailey flipped around to see Mrs. Atherton coming out of the side door. "Mrs. Atherton—" Bailey started, but couldn't get the rest of the sentence out.

Mrs. Atherton glanced at Lambert and shook her head, clucking her tongue at Bailey. Even with what's going on Mrs. Atherton still treated her like a second daughter. "Oh no, Bailey, what have you done now?"

"I have to take her down to the station for questioning," Lambert offered, giving her his boyish-innocent smile as he approached Bailey and clamped a hand on her forearm.

Bailey tensed and tried to jerk her arm away, but the steel grip he had only caused pain each time she attempted to pull away. "I haven't done anything!"

"Wes, I appreciate what you're doing. Bailey's too good of a girl to let herself fall down this path, but I must insist we wait for her parents before you arrest her," Mrs. Atherton said calmly and then gave Bailey a pointed look, "I'm sure they'll want to hear about this anyway."

Lambert raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. The sharp, piercing expression that crossed his face could've made blood run cold. "You insist?" he asked, and licked his bottom lip.

Mrs. Atherton blinked, startled at his change in demeanor, "W-well, yes. You know how these things go. She's still a minor."

Lambert chuckled and scratched at the day old stubble on his chin before he dodged forward and punched Mrs. Atherton in the face, knocking her out.

"What did you do?" Bailey cried out, leaping to try and catch Mrs. Atherton before she smacked into the concrete, but she was too late. Her head cracked against the driveway and a small pool of blood spilled from the wound. "Oh my God!"

Wes tsk'd at her and plopped his hands on his hips. "Really, Bailey? I know you've figured it out. You're a stubborn little bitch, aren't you? Maybe that's why I like you so much."

Bailey stepped back, her heart pounding, and the rest of her body was screaming for her to run. "You're right, I know. Everybody knows."

Wes scowled and lifted his hand to scratch his chin. "That could be a problem, but really who are the authorities going to believe, you—a seventeen-year-old criminal—or me—a good standing citizen and Sheriff. Hmm, let me think... Now, tell me where Samantha is."

Bailey shook her head slowly.

Wes's jaw tightened and he took a step forward. "If you tell me, I might let you celebrate your birthday tomorrow."

Bailey swallowed. That's right, it is my birthday tomorrow. "How do you know that?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, I can read and I like to read... especially about you." He paused and licked his lips as he tilted his head to the side offering her a slow smile. "And I really enjoy watching you sleep. It's not so easy going onto that balcony, but I make the effort."

Bailey blinked, her feet frozen to the ground. Her heart thudded in her chest and her blood ran cold. Had she heard him right? "What?" she asked.

This time Wes closed the distance between them. His arm darted out and his hand clamped on the nape of her neck. She was so shocked only her head jerked back. Wes's grip was like steel, and her neck was a rubber band trying to push against it. It didn't work and he pulled her so close their foreheads touched.

"I'm going to keep you the longest," he whispered against her lips.

Shaking out of her stupor, she snapped her teeth at him and kneed him in the groin. He bent down with a half-howl, growl, and laugh when Bailey turned to run.

"It's always fun when the girl plays hard to get, but don't go overboard," Wes called to her retreating back.

"This isn't happening," Bailey whispered, running as fast as she could towards Peter. "Peter? Peter? Where are you—" She didn't so much see him before she tripped over his dead body. Bailey gasped and fell to her butt, scooting down and away from him. "Oh no, Peter. I'm so sorry."

"Bailey, I'm going to show you a world you've never dreamed of," Wes spoke from a distance.

"Impossible! I've dreamed of it. I know what you did to them!" Bailey shouted back and, with tears blurring her vision she reached into Peter's pocket and a hand clamped on her wrist, making her scream.

"That son-of-a-bitch came at me from behind. That's never happened to me before. Bailey," Peter paused to inhale and tried to quickly get to his feet. "His brain is damaged, like the neurotransmitters aren't connecting to the synapses or something like that. Eliza knows all about that science shit and how my telepathy works... a lot of mumbo jumbo, but we need to get away from him because my telepathy doesn't work on him. Hurry!" All the while Peter was rapidly spitting out those words, he was also pulling at her hand towards his taxi.

"You're not leaving me for another man, are you?" Wes asked. "You're a fast runner, Bailey, but so am I, even when I'm hurt."

Bailey glanced over her shoulder to see his face flushed with anger and coming around the Atherton's house with a noticeable limp, but still a lot closer than he used to be. She knew, even with his long legs and wide leaps that she could out run him because she'd hurt him, or at least run long and fast enough to get help. But she couldn't--no, she wouldn't--leave Peter.

His sluggish movements, which Peter appeared to think were fast, had her worried about the head wound he sustained from Wes. Blood was oozing, pushing out pieces of dark gravel, from the base of his skull. She could only hope the thickness in the back saved him from any lasting damage.

She didn't tell him, but she knew. Peter couldn't drive; he was barely running with her. She jerked her hand out of his. "Peter-"

He whipped around. "What are you doing? Come on!"

"Get to your taxi and lock yourself inside," Bailey demanded. "I'll distract him while you use your radio to get some help."

"I won't do that. I—"

"Then you're not gonna make it. We're not going fast enough. He'll kill you! Let him chase after me. It's me he wants anyway," she said, quickly shuffling him forward towards his car. Once they'd gotten to the door she jerked the handle and roughly pushed at Peter's shoulder. "Lock it!" she demanded.

He quickly got in, the lock sounding. She turned to see Wes about five feet away from her now and, to make sure he followed her she taunted him. "So what was it? Did your mom love you a little too much or not enough? Did she drop you on your head as a baby?" she called out.

Wes stopped, surprising Bailey. The anger in his face melted away and his expression became blank. His normally electric blue eyes darkened to a deeper blue and the creepy smile that showed his teeth made Bailey's fear resurface.

I'm finally meeting the serial killer version of him, aren't I?

He was no longer the happy-go-lucky Sheriff, or even the Sheriff she met a few minutes ago... still a relatively nice guy trying to make her understand the situation. No. Now his reasoning for reality was gone. In his own world, he was master and no one else mattered. He was an animal going after his prey. He was focused. Did he want to kill her? She didn't know, but it was clear that his thoughts were on one thing—one person. Bailey.

Peter would live. Peter will get help. It would be okay.

"Bailey, that's not a nice question to ask," Wes started, but Bailey dodged around the taxi and ran down the street, trying to get as much distance between her and him as possible. "Bailey!" Wes shouted.

Bailey covered her ears and continued running. The sound of Wes's pounding feet smacking the pavement made her want to shout out with triumph because she knew he was following her. He'd left Peter and Mrs. Atherton alone. Now, she needed to put her faith in the training she'd done with Matt.

Mattie always said she could fly like the wind. She just hoped that was fast enough.