by Rita Herron
“Call her and let’s go see her,” Lenora said.
The silence was deafening as he sped away. A few miles down the road, he spotted a coffee shop and pulled in. “I have those files in my trunk. I can look at them and find the number of that psychiatrist while we have coffee.”
Lenora’s cell phone dinged, and she snatched it from her purse. When she glanced at the caller ID screen, her face crumpled.
“What?”
She handed him the phone and he read the text.
Dearest Lenora,
One for the party. One to go.
Soon it’s time you joined the show.
Love and kisses,
Robert
Micah cursed and pulled Lenora up against him, then wrapped his arm around her
shoulders as he escorted her inside. They ordered coffee and muffins, and he laid his briefcase on the table.
“Who is he going after next?” Lenora said in a haunted voice.
“You tell me. Who else are you close to?”
“No one except Jenny,” she said. “And I already warned her.”
“Has she left town yet?”
“I think she was stopping by today to turn things over to Wilma before she left.” Panic flared in her eyes. “I’d better check in.”
She punched her friend’s number while he opened the file and scanned it.
Lenora had been Simpleton’s only survivor so her testimony had been key to the prosecution. Other evidence was muddy due to a mix up at a lab and Simpleton’s ability to cover his ass. Damn crime shows. Between them and the Internet, perps could virtually find a textbook lesson on how to get away with murder.
“What? Listen, Jenny, I don’t like that you’re there alone. I’ll come right over.”
Micah frowned. He was surprised Troy left her alone for a minute, but Jenny seemed as stubborn as Lenora and probably insisted.
“That man already kidnapped one of my friends from college. I don’t know who he’s coming after next, but I’m worried about you.” A pause. “Okay, keep the door locked. And call me as soon as Troy comes back.”
Lenora tapped her fingernails on her coffee cup when she hung up.
“She’s there alone?”
“Yes,” Lenora said. “Troy went to get them some food and should be back any minute.”
“Take a deep breath, and call back in a few minutes. If he’s not back, we’ll go over there.”
“I’d feel better if we went now,” Lenora said.
He’d do anything for her. “All right.” He closed the file just as her phone jangled again.
“Jenny?” Another pause. “Okay, great. Now close up the shop and go some place safe with Troy.”
She looked relieved when she hung up. “Do you see anything in the file?”
“Here’s the shrink’s name and contact information,” Micah called the number and spoke to her secretary. “I need to see Dr. Rowan.” He identified himself and explained the situation, and she told him to come as soon as possible.
Lenora stood. “Let’s go.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were seated in the doctor’s office. Dr. Rowan was tall and slim with a short, dark bob of hair and square glasses. Thankfully she worked with the police and courts, so privilege wasn’t a problem. With a woman’s life hanging in the balance, she had to talk to them anyway. “I heard about Simpleton’s escape,” she said.
“We need insight to find him. What can you tell us?”
“Robert Simpleton was severely abused as a child. His mother was schizophrenic and treated him horribly. She punished him with beatings, using anything she could find from a broomstick or belt to tree limbs to whip him. She used to make him cut his own switch for her to use.”
The woman paused, her short fingernails drumming over the man’s file. “She filled a bathtub of cold water and dunked him over and over as another punishment. He lost consciousness more than once, but managed to survive.” Her brows drew together. “Of course he was scarred permanently.”
“She raped him?”
Dr. Rowan nodded. “Repeatedly. Again she used various objects. She also allowed men to come in and use him. She . . . was amused by it.”
Lenora massaged her temple as if the doctor’s comments were disturbing her. As if she had sympathy for Simpleton.
He didn’t feel sorry for the asshole. Sure, Simpleton had a tough childhood and shouldn’t have been abused, but that didn’t justify his abuse against innocent women.
“In my opinion, the women he tortured personify his mother,” Dr. Rowan continued. “He’s finally getting his revenge against her for what she did to him.”
“We’re trying to figure out where he’s holding Nan Purcell,” Micah said. “Is there anything in his background that might help us? Maybe a specific place his mother used to take him? Some place meaningful?”
Lips pursed in thought, the doctor opened the file and skimmed her finger along a section. Seconds later, she lifted out a childlike drawing of an old Victorian house that looked haunted.
“This is a sketch of the house he grew up in, where his trauma first occurred,” she said. “If Mr. Simpleton believes this is his last chance to punish his mother, he might want to recreate the same setting where he was abused himself for his victims.”
Robert had been watching Jenny, the girl who worked with Lenora, but some big oaf of a guy was dogging her like she was in heat. He’d have to wait till the creep left her or . . . find someone else who fit his needs.
He turned on the faucet in the tub in the basement and watched the water begin to trickle. It hadn’t been used in ages and was rusty and spewed brown water, just like the one in his childhood home.
His lungs squeezed for air, the familiar panic and adrenaline mingling as images of the baptisms formed in his mind. That was what his mama called them.
Punishments. Lessons. Cleansings of the soul.
The drip, drip, drip of the water made him smile. The tub was nearly full now. The water icy cold just as it was when his mama baptized him.
Now it was Nan’s turn to be punished. To be saved.
The darkness greeted him like a safe haven as he headed to the room to get her.
Somewhere in the darkness, a mouse skittered. Old pipes rattled. The wind beat at the shutters.
He removed the key from his waist and unlocked the door to Nan’s room. She lay deathly still in the corner, her hands and feet still bound, her hair tangled around her.
Feet moving on autopilot, he shuffled to her and gripped her by the hair. She jerked her eyes open and tried to scream, but the duct tape drowned the sound.
Smiling, he ripped the tape off, knowing no one would hear her cries. They were too isolated.
Her eyes went buggy with terror, and she tried to fight him again, sending his pulse into an uproar. He dragged her up the stairs, then started to undress her.
She kicked and pushed at him with her body, and he slapped her, ripped off that little black dress, and stripped her down to her lace panties.
Those would come off later.
For now, he shoved her into the water. Her scream of shock at the icy temperature echoed in the air like music. Grinning, he pushed her under, counting the seconds as she flailed and struggled.
Micah phoned the tech team as he and Lenora settled back inside his SUV. “I’m still waiting for you to send me that list of airfields.”
“It’s on its way. But there are several.”
“Maybe we can narrow it down. Look for older Victorian houses that might be abandoned or for sale or rent within close proximity of those airports.” He snapped his fingers. “Better yet, do we have the address of Simpleton’s childhood house?”
A second passed, then the tech gave him an address.
Micah cleared his throat. “I’ll check that out wh
ile you look for others.”
“It’ll take a little while.”
“Make it quicker. Simpleton already abducted one woman. He sent Lenora a text saying one more and then he’s coming after her. He’s probably choosing the second victim as we speak.”
“I’ll send you what I find.”
“Thanks.” Micah hung up and called his friend Mitchell Manning. “I’m working the Simpleton case, Mitch. He kidnapped a friend of Lenora’s, and we’re looking for a place where he’s holding her. The shrink who evaluated Simpleton suggested he might return to a house similar to the one he grew up in. Tech is searching now and should be sending me a list to check soon. But first I’m going to check out his childhood home.”
“Look, man, you know I’m not working now.”
“I know, Mitch, but maybe getting back to work would help.” Mitch had lost his wife and kid to the job nine months before. Micah was worried about him. Grieving was normal, but Mitch had been the most driven ranger he’d ever known.
He’d lost that drive when he’d buried his wife and child.
“If he’s not at that house, I’m going to need a chopper.”
“Hardin—”
“This woman’s life depends on it, Mitch.”
Tension stretched between them. “All right. Call me if you need the chopper and I’ll meet you at the ranch.”
“Where are you are now?”
“My place. Getting ready to put the damn thing on the market.”
Micah’s gut tightened. Mitch loved that ranch. But it probably held painful memories for him.
Micah thanked him, disconnected and headed out of town. It was a long shot that Simpleton would actually carry Nan to his home, but it fit his profile.
Right now Micah had no other place to look.
Lenora studied the scenery, the long stretch of road echoing with the sound of wild animals and her own fear. Cacti, trees and deserted property looked stark with dry parched weeds and grass.
Every second that passed was tormented by images of the pain Nan might be enduring.
Occasionally they passed a farm or ranch, although many were no longer working ranches or farms. “Are we close?” she asked as a sign for a place called Four Horses swayed in the breeze.
“A few more miles.” Micah glanced at her with raised brows. “Are you okay?”
She shook her head. “How can I be, knowing that Nan is suffering?”
He squeezed her hand, and for once, Lenora allowed herself to cling to it. As a child, her mother had been totally dependent on Lenora’s father, and she’d fallen apart when he’d died.
Lenora had vowed never to be that needy.
Still, she couldn’t let go of Micah’s hand.
The SUV bounced over potholes, slinging rocks and dust. Suddenly, he turned down a dirt drive, weaving around a fallen tree and limbs that had been ripped from the trunks and tossed across the road. A big dip in the road made him swerve again.
“Are you sure this is right?” Lenora asked.
He checked his GPS. “Yeah. Remember, this is where Simpleton grew up. No one has lived here in years.”
A shiver rippled up her spine. It would make a perfect place to hide.
“There are recent tire marks, too,” Micah said, pointing to various ridges in the dry ground.
“So he might have brought Nan out here.” Lenora’s pulse picked up a notch. She silently prayed he was here, that they could end this now and save Nan.
In the distance, an old Victorian house popped into view, dark clouds painting the turrets and sharp angles in eerie shadows. Lenora scanned the yard and drive for a vehicle, hoping to find the truck Robert had been driving. Instead, a rusty, broken-down Chevy sat on cinder blocks beside the house.
“I don’t see his truck,” she said, her hope deflating.
“He could have stashed it around back or left Nan here and be out hunting again.”
Her anxiety rose as he slowed and came to a stop beneath a cluster of trees. The afternoon sun was fading, gray skies obliterating the sun and adding a dismal cast to the sky.
A bird cawed, a coyote howled, and vultures fluttered and soared above a patch of land in the distance.
Micah cut the engine, and she reached for the door, but he pressed a hand over hers. “Wait here and let me check out the house, Lenora.”
“No, I’m coming with you. If Nan is in there alone, she’ll need me.”
Micah’s gaze met hers and his jaw tightened. “Okay, but stay behind me. And if he’s in there and starts shooting, run like hell to the car and call for help.”
She agreed, hoping it didn’t come to that.
Micah held his gun at the ready as he approached the weathered old house. Peeling paint, rotting shingles, and broken windowpanes confirmed that the place was deserted and had been for a long time.
Birds had nested on the front porch, and he glanced through one of the front windows and saw that the lights were off. Sheets had been draped over furniture, and dust and cobwebs clung to everything in sight. A hint of mold crept up the wall on the right side of the living room.
He turned the front door knob, and it screeched open. A musty odor engulfed him, the smell of a house that hadn’t been inhabited in years. His gaze swept to the dining room to the side and a parlor. Both vacant although signs of rodents were evident in droppings and gnawed furniture legs.
Lenora’s breath puffed out as she followed him to the kitchen. A broken down table sat on three legs, and layers of dirt and grime coated the ancient appliances. A spider had spun an elaborate web along the light fixture above the table.
But no one was inside, and it didn’t look as if anyone had been recently.
He gestured toward the hallway, and they slowly climbed the stairs, the wood bending and squeaking beneath their feet. A noise echoed from above, and his heart jumped. Was someone upstairs?
Lenora touched his arm, and he lifted his finger to his mouth to remind her to keep quiet. He crept down the hall, looked inside the first room and noted an empty iron bed that had been stripped of any bedding. A worn dresser sat on the far wall. He glanced in the closet but it was empty.
No clothing inside as if the family had moved abruptly but forgotten to come back for their furniture. He quickly checked the bathroom and found it dirty but empty as well.
The noise sounded again as if something was banging against a window. He motioned for her to follow, and they inched their way to the next room. This room was even more drab than the others and appeared to be a child’s room.
A small twin bed was covered in a faded navy bedspread that hung askew. Toy cars had been dumped on the floor along with yellowed, tattered books. A stain marred the dingy beige carpet, a stain that looked like blood.
“This was his room,” Lenora whispered.
Micah took note of the belt hanging on the wall, a wide leather belt that had probably been used to punish Simpleton as a child. Micah eased toward the bathroom and found the source of the noise.
A bird was trapped inside, flying back and forth, slamming into the wall and the window as it tried to escape. Had Robert Simpleton felt like that bird in this house?
Micah covered his head with one hand, eased over to the window and shoved it open, giving the bird its freedom.
Lenora pointed to the tub. A bloodstain marred the cracked porcelain. “That must have been where she punished him.”
“She was demented,” Micah said. “But that doesn’t excuse what he did to you or give him the right to murder and rape innocent women.”
“He didn’t see us as innocent,” Lenora said. “When he looked at us, he saw her face.”
“Then he should have checked himself into a mental hospital.” He gripped her arm. “Come on, let’s see if there’s a basement.”
They hurried down the stairs and f
ound a doorway in the hall that led to more stairs. It was so dark that Micah pulled a penlight from his pocket to light the way.
Dust motes danced in front of him, the scent of something rancid filling the air.
“God . . . what is that?” Lenora whispered.
“A dead rat probably.” The stairs squeaked, and one collapsed, making him grip the rail. “Careful.” He took Lenora’s hand and helped her over it, then shined the penlight across the small cement space. The ceiling was low, cinder blocks comprising the walls. An antique trunk sat to the left, a metal cage in the corner.
The defense attorney apparently hadn’t had photos of this place or he would have used them in Simpleton’s defense.
Lenora gasped, her hand clutching at his arm. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
The cage looked like a dog cage but reminded him of the one Lenora had described. Apparently, Simpleton had held Lenora in a cage when he’d first abducted her. No wonder she felt ill.
But his eyes were glued to the trunk. What if Simpleton had stuffed Nan’s body in that trunk?
Robert left Nan to rest, smiling to himself at the way she’d begged for her life. He’d told her that he’d release her once he had Lenora. Of course, that was a lie.
She would die just as Lenora would.
But first things first.
He walked through Lenora’s mother’s house, running a finger along the dust-free furniture. Everything looked as if it had been spit-polished. Furniture was new, magazines stacked neatly on the shiny coffee table. Kitchen immaculate, refrigerator full of fresh vegetables, fruit and expensive cuts of meat. The rooms even smelled like spring flowers.
Nothing like the home where he’d grown up. Dirty floors and tables, grimy kitchen, day-old bread and outdated canned food his mother had picked up at a salvage store.
A tree branch scraped the window outside, and he froze, remembering the times his mother had shoved him outdoors, tied him to a tree and left him out in the storm. Discipline meant punishment.
Punishment meant that she loved him.
