Charlotte pats my hand. “Don’t stress. Everyone is looking out for you. Besides, I think you’re tougher than either one of them.”
BY THE TIME WE’VE PACKED everything, it’s dark out. We certainly aren’t the fastest movers, but that wasn’t really the point. The point was going through Miranda’s things and saying goodbye.
Charlotte stretches, like a lean jungle cat. “We’ll leave the boxes here and Bartholomew and his friends will pick them up tomorrow. I’ll need to close things out with accounting and let them know they can clean now. Would you mind going over the floors with a broom real quick? They have a big one down at the end of the hall in the janitor’s closet.”
“No problem. Then I’ll help you carry those boxes of Miranda’s personal things out to the car.”
The hallway lights have been dimmed, so as not to keep the residents awake. It seems surreal that this is probably the last time I’ll be in this building. I remember the first time I met Charlotte, in the dining room here. I was so sure I’d hate the city girl who had been overseas when her mother needed her. Instead, she quickly won me over, as she does everyone.
I open the door and feel for a light switch. Flipping it on, I scan the organized space for the broom and finally locate it behind a Lysol-laden metal shelf. When I grab it, something catches my eye. A shoe. I look closer. The shoe is attached to a body—a woman’s body with an arrow through her chest and a dirty mop bucket casually covering her head.
Taking the broom handle, I hesitantly poke at the yellow bucket. It dislodges easily, revealing a terror-stricken face I won’t soon forget. Peggy. The aide who was constantly shepherding Mr. Seger.
I turn to run to the front desk, but only make it one step before my world goes black.
35
WHEN I COME TO, I RECOGNIZE the wet, cool rock smell around me. My childhood comes back in a flash—the smell on daddy’s boots, infused in his beard. The black smell of coal.
My hands are duct-taped in front of me, but that was a big mistake on my kidnapper’s part. I just watched a video about how to get out of duct tape when my hands aren’t behind my back. Lifting my hands over my head, I thrust them down toward my legs, each hand pushing toward its respective side. Sure enough, the tape rips and I’m free. I don’t waste time reveling that the move worked. I need to get out of here.
Scrabbling around the dirt floor, I hit on the metal tracks made for minecarts. I can probably get out if I follow them the right way…whichever way that is. Hesitantly, I touch the nape of my neck, which is pounding. There’s a huge goose egg there, but no bleeding. Still, it can’t be good that I was out for so long. This mine is probably deep in the underbelly of the woods behind the spa. How the killer moved me here, I can’t imagine.
Is Detective Tucker camped in this very woods, listening for things? Or is this mine in an entirely different location?
I crawl to the left, following the tracks. There’s no light coming from either direction. It’s dark as one of those cave tours where they cut the lights out, as if it’s something entertaining. There’s nothing fun about standing on a narrow wet rock ledge with nothing to hold onto, wondering if you’ll slip off the side into the endless chasm below. I don’t like cave tours.
Thomas said there had been a horrible accident in this mine. I picture buckled walls and I’m glad I can’t see. What if I’m in a tiny space, only big enough for a minecart? I push down the claustrophobic feelings slithering up my chest. I will get out of here alive.
After creep-crawling for what seems like a couple of hours, I have no clue if I’ve edged closer to the entrance or away from it. The dark is like a blanket, I tell myself. Just a cloak to protect me from the killer. I will not panic.
Suddenly, a voice cuts into the darkness. A man’s voice.
“There you are, Mrs. Spencer. I knew you were tenacious, but my, my. You’ve exceeded my expectations.”
Is it Byron? Teeny? Neither seems to fit the melodramatic tenor voice. I don’t know who this person is, or where he is for that matter.
“That trick with the duct tape was memorable. I enjoyed watching that.”
Watching that? He can see me, then. And he’s observing me like I’m on some sick reality show.
My hand slides to my Glock, and I’m shocked to find it’s still there. He was a fool to leave it on me.
“So you realize I’ve left you the gun. It only makes the game more interesting, you know. Tell me, have you ever read The Most Dangerous Game? It’s a story in which a consummate hunter grows bored with stalking large game. Game can’t reason, you see. Animals rely solely on instinct and reason trumps instinct. This hunter turns his sights to more intelligent prey…namely, human beings.” His dry laugh cracks into the dark like a shot. “I took up this challenge years ago and have found it never fails to disappoint. Women are the most adaptable, resourceful prey, I’ve found. Especially determined women like you. I saved you for last, Mrs. Spencer.”
I clear my throat, hoping to get him talking so I can get a fix on where he is. His voice seems close but I think the echoing walls are producing that effect. “So I’m your last kill? I’d say you’ve killed enough women already.”
“I planned to stop at eight, in honor of the Noble Eight-fold path of Buddhism. But I couldn’t resist one last jaunt to West Virginia. I felt a need to sample its wares. Oh, I was clever going about it, I assure you. Even you fell for my ruse.”
“How do I know you?” I slide the Glock noiselessly from its holster, aiming in the direction of his voice.
“Ah, but Madam Spencer, did you not sense I was not mad, as you had assumed? I have a certain dramatic flair that allows me to—”
I pray and pull the trigger, smooth as butter. Right after the blast, I hear another sound—the sound of a bullet hitting metal.
His laughter rips into the silence. “You didn’t really think I’d leave myself exposed, did you? Every hunter needs to be invisible to his prey.”
Once again, this maniac leaves me with no moves. I’m trapped in a lightless coal mine, unsure which direction is out. He can see me and I can’t see him. I also can’t risk taking another shot that might ricochet into me. Seems like my only option is to run like the wind the opposite direction of his voice, but I have no doubt he’ll sink an arrow in my back if I do that. Maybe if I can keep him talking…
“So those other women…you shot them straight-on. Did they have a chance to get away?”
“Of course they did—but not really. You see, I didn’t give them quite the sporting chance I’ve given you. I watched their pride, their haughtiness, slip away. I saw women who had bossed me around shift into the groveling, insipid souls they really were. It is actually a refining process, come to think of it. I put them through the crucible and they melted like cheap metal.”
Anger rises to the surface but I try not to let it seep into my voice. “I thought Buddhism demanded no violence.”
“This was simply a higher calling. I was teaching these women they could not control people and shouldn’t strive to do so. I was ending their ignorance in this life, and enlightening them for the next. They needed to understand death is not the end.”
I stand in stunned silence. Mr. Seger. He has been giving me clues—calling me Madam, hinting at his dramatic ruse. The ruse was integrating himself into an assisted living home, pretending to be loony. I think of poor Peggy, so determined to keep a watchful eye on him. And yet during his “escapes” he probably killed Melody and Tawny…and finally, Peggy herself.
“Where’s Peggy?” I ask, hoping to taunt him into revealing himself.
His lowered voice seems to inch closer, tickling my ear. “Peggy didn’t know how to leave well enough alone. She meant well, I know. Just a miserable drone doing her job. But she got a bit too nosy. Just like you, Mrs. Spencer.”
A pebble clatters to the ground behind me. It’s probably a regular thing in these mines…or is it? I have to keep him talking. He fancies himself a teacher, so I’ll
be a student.
“The first was your wife?”
“Yes. The world needed to be purged of her ignorance, her determination to believe that God would make everything work out for our family. I was her god in the end, Mrs. Spencer.” He pauses, adopting an uncomfortably familiar tone. “Or should I call you Tess? I have wondered how that name would sound on my lips. Your lips, by the way, remind me of a girl I once kissed. She seemed so young and naïve, so willing to learn. But she turned on me and spread lies.”
“You mean Sea.”
“How did you know about her? How dare you speak her name?” His voice trails off, like he’s talking to himself. “The most delectable hair and baby-soft skin. She couldn’t spare me one kiss…”
I want to use the moment to run, but what if I run into a wall? A drop-off? No matter what, he’ll be able to shoot me easily. I’m a sitting duck. A fish in a barrel.
His voice turns gruff. “We won’t tell anyone if I steal a kiss from you when you die, will we? You see, I chose you as my last kill mostly because of your husband. I understand he will be the prosecuting attorney soon and I overheard Lieutenant Wickline saying what an upright man he is. Law-abiding.” He laughs.
“Yes, he is. What is that to you?”
“I have found that humans have such gaping weak spots, you see. And I love to see them squirm. I thought it would add a new dimension to my game if your husband had to prosecute the one who killed his wife.”
I don’t point out that Thomas would withdraw from trying that case. Or would he? I replay Thomas’ words that night the arrow pinned the note to our house: “I swear if Detective Tucker doesn’t catch this monster, I will, Tess. I mean I will hunt that sucker down and take his life, do you understand? No one is getting this close to my wife and child.”
This man wants to destroy not only me, but also my husband. And yet if I’m his last kill, my daughter and the other women of Buckneck will be safe from this cretin. But what if he changes his mind, as he did after that eighth kill?
“Women in particular are so weak,” he continues. “Every one of them calling out for someone as they die. For God, for their child, for their parents…always someone. Who will you call out for, Tess?”
I cringe, unwilling to focus on dying, which is probably what he wants me to do. Contemplate my end, give up hope, and all that rot.
Yet I know in my heart what the last word on my lips will be. It will be Thomas.
36
I DETERMINE TO PLAY my last card to shield myself and Thomas from this man’s wickedness. I pull my gun again and shoot in his general direction. Turning, I run at top speed the other way. I crash right into someone.
Someone who has been standing behind me all this time.
There are two of them.
A familiar voice slices into the darkness, breaking down any vestige of hope I was clinging to. “Daddy. I’m here.”
Quiet prevails, and for one blessed moment I think I’ve hit him. But he croaks a reply.
“Danielle? My little girl? Is that you?” He’s obviously crying.
“Yes. I have waited for this day for so long. I’ve finally found you.”
Mr. Seger sniffs a little before launching into an explanation. “My Danielle was named after me: Daniel Seger. I doubt she still has my last name, though. Many years ago, I had to leave her with foster parents, hoping she’d understand.”
“Of course I understood. They were good to me. I was pretty ripped up that you didn’t come to pick me up when I turned sixteen, but I channeled that energy and eventually joined the Marines. I honed the skills you told me I had.”
I stand stock-still, hopelessly trapped between the two bowhunting killers. How can Dani—peace-loving, tree-hugging, incense-burning Dani—be part of this insanity? She told me she wanted to forget her time in the Marines. I guess she’s a good actor, like her dear ol’ dad.
She shifts around, taking a few steps back. I can’t see what she’s doing but Mr. Seger can.
“Ah! It does my heart good to see you with that crossbow, my dearest. You handle it so well. Let’s get this kill over with so we can visit, what do you say? I know you don’t have night-vision so I should probably take this shot. Just step back to the left, behind that wood post.”
Scuffling ensues. A blinding flashlight clicks on behind me. Dani shouts, “Get down, Tess!”
I drop like a ton of bricks, not caring if I hurt myself in the process. I roll quickly to the side. A whip-thwack sounds above my head, followed quickly by a feral scream of pain.
“How do you like me now, Daddy?” Dani grabs my hand, pulling me up. “Come on. We can get out this way.”
I’m still dazed that Dani shot her father, but I follow her flashlight beam through the tunnels. She begins to explain.
“When you finally told me those women were killed with arrows, I realized Dad had returned to Buckneck, just as I’d hoped. I had situated the spa here because it had been his special hunting spot. I wanted to set my own trap for him.”
Her voice thickens with emotion. “See, I always had this suspicion he’d killed Mom. But when I told the police, they barely checked into it. They just decided she ran off. It crushed me. I was a teen, and there was nothing I could do to prove my dad was a killer. He sent me all those letters, but they never directly stated he’d killed any women. I joined the Marines to get as far away from him and my memories of Mom as I could.”
She sighs. “I would have told Detective Tucker, but I didn’t want to be mocked again for throwing out crazy accusations. So I hid that box of letters, hoping someone would put the pieces together. In the meantime, I didn’t know where Dad was. So I started following you.”
Not really comforting, but it explains why I felt someone was watching me all the time.
“I shot that arrow into your license at the hospital, by the way. I wanted to warn you to back off, because I figured you were just the type my dad…hunted.”
“And the arrow in my house? With the note?”
“Not me.”
So Mr. Seger had been in our woods, stalking me. I shudder. “Should we go back and make sure he’s dead? What if you missed?”
Dani laughs. “I didn’t miss. I’ve trained with that crossbow for years, hoping for the day I could plant an arrow in his thick skull. You heard what he said. He admitted to killing my mom and those other women. You understand? He took my mom from me—the only one who loved me. He cared for no one but himself.”
“But won’t you be tried for murder?”
“Let me tell you something. ‘It’s better to be tried by twelve than carried out by six.’ Have you ever heard that quote? It means it’s better to shoot in self-defense and ask questions later than to have pallbearers haul your coffin out. I saw my chance and I took it.”
She stops short at a wooden door. “This is it. It’s another entrance I found after trailing Dad into the woods. I had time to check out the mine and hide before he dragged you down here. Even though he surprised me by returning so early, I was able to hide until I could get a clear shot.”
Leaves rustle as someone runs toward us. Dani steps out, releasing my hand. I hunker back into the mine, not prepared to meet another challenge.
Detective Tucker stretches a camo-clad arm toward me. “Come on out of there.”
As I tumble onto the leafy forest floor, sunlight hits my face and I gulp at the fresh air. I start crying, thankful I’ve lived to see another day.
Dani plops down in the clump of ferns that camouflage the door, crossbow at her side. “See? I told you I had your back, Tess.”
37
WE ALL TROOP BACK TO the spa, where Dani brews a pot of organic chamomile tea. Detective Tucker doesn’t rush to take her down to the station, and I realize he’s giving us both a chance to get our bearings.
I call Thomas, Nikki Jo, and Charlotte, knowing they’ve been up all night praying for and looking for me. Thomas cries unabashedly into the phone, stirring my own tears. He leaves imme
diately to pick me up.
After a brief investigation of the mine, Detective Tucker reports on what they found. Mr. Daniel Seger had shielded himself in a minecart, which explains why my bullets ricocheted off metal. He sagged into the cart after Dani’s crossbow bolt ripped directly between his eyes. He would have died instantly. One hand held a bow and the other held the arrow that was meant for me.
“This’ll make the twelfth body for our poor coroner.” Detective Tucker sips thoughtfully at his tea. Dani’s remark about being tried by twelve instantly springs to mind.
Dani seems remarkably calm, a warm smile on her face as she prepares coffee for the officers. I lean toward Detective Tucker. “Is she going to be okay? I mean, she killed someone.”
“She finally has closure,” he says. “She sure made my job a lot easier. And she saved your life. She’ll be okay.”
Thomas bursts into the kitchen, his gaze bouncing around until he sees me. He rushes over and wraps me in a tight squeeze. Detective Tucker gives him a rundown on the situation. When Thomas finally lets go, he walks straight over to Dani. I worry that he might instruct the detective to cuff her, but instead he smiles and wraps her in a wordless hug.
Everything is going to be all right.
The need to see Mira Brooke overwhelms me, and I start to say my goodbyes. Dani apologizes for firing me. “The job is open if you ever want to come back,” she says. “I owe you a lot for flushing Dad out of hiding.”
Detective Tucker’s beard tickles my head as I give him a final hug and thank you. As we walk out, he says, “Mrs. Spencer, you can call me Zeke.”
Thomas gapes. “Zeke,” he whispers near-reverently. “He told you to call him Zeke.”
Trial by Twelve Page 17
