The Twain Shall Meet

The Twain Shall Meet by Deidre Dalton is Book #3 in the Collective Obsessions Saga.

An innocent meeting as children sparks a fateful yet perilous liaison between Shannon Larkin and Mike Sullivan. Will their romance follow the same tragic path forged by their mutual ancestors Colm and Molly?

From Chapter Seven

November 1970

Larkin City, Maine

FROM HIS POSITION AT the edge of the Larkin family cemetery, Michael Sullivan watched as three male figures emerged from the front doors of the estate, each one carrying a flash light. They were moving in the direction of the stables, which was opposite the cemetery.

Mike grinned to himself in the dark. His hair was plastered to his head, and his clothes were soaking wet. He had been standing in the rain since nine o'clock, having walked the two miles from his trailer to the entrance road of the Larkin estate. He then walked another mile from the main highway to the house, making sure to remain obscured in the many bushes and trees off to the side of the long driveway.

As he saw the three figures vanish into the stables, Mike made his way to the back of the house, clutching a water-sodden paper sack in his hand. Suddenly he slipped and fell on the sloping lawn, sliding through the thick mud, the paper sack flying into the air. Cursing, he stood up and steadied himself. It was pitch black and miserably wet. The rain pelted on his face with such force it began to hurt. Where was his sack? Frantically, he dropped down to his hands and knees and started feeling around the ground. After several moments, he located the sack six feet from where he fell. Standing up once more, he made sure the contents were intact.

From within the package, he withdrew a gleaming, eleven-inch hunting knife he purchased at the Larkin Sporting Goods store that afternoon. He spent part of the evening sharpening the knife, and now it had a razor edge. He admired the blade with a half-smile on his face. He continued his descent to the back lawn. Most of the windows in the house were dark, except for a scattered few on the first floor. Mike also noticed the lights coming from Shannon's room since he arrived on the estate.

He remembered how to make his way to the back door, where the kitchen was. He sped across the back lawn, and scurried up the few steps to the back door. Taking a deep breath, he tried the door slowly.

His face lit up. It was unlocked! Quietly, he stepped into the kitchen. A night light burned overhead the stove, just as it had the night he came with Shannon. The room was deserted. He shut the back door softly behind him. Water dripped from his clothes onto the floor, making slight dripping sounds in the room. Turning quickly, he tiptoed to the door leading to the corridor and the front foyer. He peered out into the corridor. No sound, no voices ….

Mike paused in the foyer. Then he made for the main staircase, the knife still clutched in his hand. He took the steps two at a time, his water-laden shoes making squishing sounds as he walked. He stopped and removed the shoes, leaving them on the first landing. He continued on through the corridors and flights of stairs until he reached the fourth floor. A strange, almost gentle smile crossed his lips. The game was almost finished. For the first time in months, he felt himself relax. He had Shannon where he wanted her now, and there was no way she could stop him.

Chuckling, Mike came to a halt in front of Shannon's closed bedroom door. His grip on the knife tightened as he reached for the door knob . . . . . .