Scanned & Semi-proofed by Cozette Eyes Of Night Beth Amos Abducted - A woman is missing. There is no evidence of foul play, but certain small disturbing signs indicate that the young mother didn't leave of her own volition. The only answer to the mystery lies locked in the mind of her terrified, silent child. When the police bring little Jace Johansen to psychiatrist Kerri Whitaker for assessment, she knows that her own troubled past should prevent her from taking on Jace as a patient. But the child's anguish is a wordless plea for help that instantly moves her. Then she coaxes him to speak and his story seems a nightmare impossible to believe. But as the people around them start to die, Kerri realizes that if she doesn't act soon, she and Jace will be next to disappear...forever. INTRUDERS Wake up, Jace pleaded silently. Please, wake up. He wanted to yell at them, but didn't-in part because he was scared, but also because his brain felt so sluggish and fuzzy. Then one of the intruders leaned over his mother's chest and did something so awful, Jace took a tentative step forward, thinking he should try to stop it. But as his foot swept across the floor, it connected with a small toy truck, knocking it with a clatter. Convinced the intruders had heard, he ran for his bed. Pulling the covers up over his head, he curled himself into a tight ball. Frightened and trembling, he huddled beneath the covers. When the sounds finally stopped, he still stayed hidden. It was half an hour before he finally summoned up the courage to peek beyond the covers. The house was deathly quiet. With as little noise as possible, Jace tiptoed to the door, peeking around the edge. The strange light and the intruders were gone. But so was his mother. Praise for Cold White Fury "[A] first-rate supernatural thriller . . .a novel filled with convincing twists . . .that lead to a knockout ending." -Publishers Weekly HarperChoice Books by Beth Amos Cold White Fury Eyes of Night Second Sight Published by Harper Paperbacks ATTENTION: ORGANIZATIONS AND CORPORATIONS Most HarperPaperbacks are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotions, premiums, or fund-raising. For information, please call or write: Special Markets Department, HarperCollinsPublishers 10 East 53rd Street, New York, N.Y. 10022. Telephone: (212) 207-7528. Fax: (212) 207-7222. EYES 0F NIGHT BETH AMOS HarperPaperbacks A Division o/HarperCollins/)"&/zs?ers 10 East 53rd Street, New York, N.Y. 10022-5299 If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this "stripped book." This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Copyright (c) 1997 by Beth Amos All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information address HarperColhns/3"Ww/7ers> 10 East 53rd Street, New York, N.Y. 10022-5299. ISBN 0-06-101006-5 HarperCollins(r), S (r), and HarperPaperbacks(tm) are trademarks of HarperCo!Hns/*"Ww^er5, Inc. Cover design by Derek Walls Cover photo (c) 1997 Tony Stone Images First printing: December 1997 Printed in the United States of America Visit HarperPaperbacks on the World Wide Web at http://wrww.harpercollins.com * 10 987654321 For Harry Arnston- author, mentor, gentleman, and friend. Though sorely missed, you live on in the hearts, minds, and words of so many. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS A special nod of thanks to Ed "Dr. Dirt" Schreiner, Research Biologist and Naturalist for the Olympic National Park; to Dr. Art Kruckeberg, Professor Emeritus with the Department of Botany at the University of Washington; to Barb Masaki, surely the best tour guide Bill Speidel's Underground Tour ever had; and to Ken Dilling, for sharing your vacation, the whales, and most of all, your pictures. A warmhearted thank you to my good friends: Dr. James T. "Buzzy" May, III, both for helping me to explore the scientific possibilities and for maintaining a level of enthusiasm that often exceeded my own; to Jerilyn Dufresne and Nelson Thurman, my faithful readers and critics; and to all the wonderful, supportive folks on the Prodigy Books and Writing bulletin board. A big hug of thanks to my parents, Frank and Laura Webb, for their neverending love and support. And to Dad, a special nod for being one of my most reliable sources for information and technical advice. Much love to you both and the rest of my family. My final thanks go to the two women who helped make it all possible. To my editor, Jessica Lichtenstein, for her support, enthusiasm, and patience; and last, but hardly least, my agent, Linda Hayes. I am forever indebted. PROLOGUE Jace Johansen awoke with a suddenness that made him gasp for air. The way his heart bounced inside his chest, he thought he'd had another bad dream. Except he couldn't remember one. Puzzled, he rolled his head to the side to look for bogeymen who might be hiding in the corners. The movement made him wince as he felt a throbbing ache in his neck. His head hurt, too, and he wondered if he was sick. A few of the kids at school had something called chicken pox, and his mom had said he might get it. He didn't know what chicken pox was exactly, and as he stared into the shifting shadows of his room, he tried to imagine a bunch of huge monster chickens silently creeping up to his bed. But even in the dark, monster chickens seemed silly, and Jace managed a sleepy smile. He thought about calling out to his mother, but hesitated. She kept telling him he was a big boy now that he was in the first grade, and he really wanted that to be true. This time I'll be brave, he thought. Which wasn't terribly difficult, seeing as how he wasn't all that scared in the first place. He heard a noise-a soft rustling kind of thump. Mommy. If she was up anyway, he might as well join her. She would probably just send him back to bed, but maybe she would tuck him in. Or better yet, snuggle up beside him. He loved it when she did that, her breath warm on his hair, her arm soft beneath his shoulders. Sometimes she sang to him or told him stories. It was the possibility of a story that convinced him. He threw the covers aside, climbed out of bed, and padded across the room, his gait shuffling and sleepy. In the doorway he paused, gazing bleary-eyed down the hall toward his parents' room and steadying himself with one hand on the doorframe. A strange light shone from the other end of the hall, and puzzled, Jace rubbed a fist in his eye before looking again. He blinked slowly, heavily, tilting his head to one side to ease the ache in his neck, his brow furrowing. Then a shadow moved across the light and Jace's head snapped up, his eyes growing wide. Instinctively, he backed up a step. Hugging the doorjamb, he peeked around its edge and watched. There were three of them, and as he thought this the fingers on his right hand ticked off the numbers: one, two, three. The intruders hovered around his parents' bed, and Jace could see his mother lying on her back, almost naked, her nightgown pushed up around her neck. He wondered why she didn't yell at the intruders and tell them to go away. Or why his father didn't. But they both lay still and quiet, sleeping while the intruders moved about the room. Wake up, Jace pleaded silently. Please, wake up. He thought about yelling to his parents, but didn't-in part because he was scared, but also because his brain felt so sluggish and fuzzy, he wondered if this might not be a bad dream after all. Then one of the intruders leaned over his mother's chest and did something so awful, Jace took a tentative step forward, thinking he should try to stop it. But as his foot swept across the floor, it connected with a small toy truck, knocking it into the baseboard with a clatter. He pulled back from the door, holding his breath and feeling a shiver of fear race down his spine. Convinced the intruders had heard him and would now come after him, he darted across the room, leaping into his bed. Pulling the covers up over his head, he curled himself into a tight ball and closed his eyes in the naive belief that if he couldn't see the bogeymen, they couldn't see him. Frightened and trembling, he huddled beneath the covers, listening to the sounds down the hall. He fought the drowsiness that pulled at him, knowing if he went to sleep, the monsters would come and get him for sure. When the sounds finally stopped, he still stayed hidden, fearful the bogeymen were only trying to trick him. It was half an hour before he finally summoned up the courage to peek beyond the covers. No bogeymen. The house was deathly quiet. Slowly, and with as little noise as possible, Jace slid out of bed and tiptoed over to the door, peeking around the edge. With relief he saw that both the strange light and the intruders were gone. But so was his mother. ONE Kerri Whitaker pushed through the door of the Seattle police station and approached the glassed-in reception area. Behind...
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