by Jaycee Clark
And that would matter because?
She loved him. She loved Aiden. She was totally, completely and madly in love with him.
So where did that leave her?
Holding him or pushing him away? Jesslyn’s heart whispered: hold him tight, don’t ever throw love away. And once she listened to that deepest part of her soul that had been guarded and frozen for so long, she heard, and knew the truth.
Not like the arrogant man would let her push him away in any case. No, Aiden would wait her out. Somehow, he’d managed to get by all the walls she’d built up. Grin by grin, laugh by laugh and kiss by kiss, he’d crumbled her fortress.
The wind picked up, pulling at her hair, tangling it around her neck and face. Jesslyn grabbed at the errant strands and tried to shove them behind her ears. If she was hiking up the knoll, she’d better hurry. The flashlight bobbed along the ground as she walked.
Something nagged at the back of Jesslyn’s mind as she started for the corner of lake where her trail began. Her skin prickled and she stopped, listened.
• • •
She came. He smiled, watching her.
When the headlights had cut around the bend and started down to the lake, he’d cursed and wondered who it was. It could have been anyone. He’d quickly shoved the whore into the car, deciding he’d have to wait until whomever it was left. He hoped they left. Then, he could finish what he’d started.
There had been no place to really go, as the ground back to his bike was at least two hundred yards of open space. The only cover was the ten-foot-tall hedge of bushes growing wild by the edge of the lake. The shrubs sporadically dotted the shore. Luckily the car was behind the next copse. He hid in the last one, closest to the newcomer. There was no way anyone would see him nestled in between the pale green leaves.
The whore was dead, as dead as she was supposed to be. A giggle threatened. He needed to dispose of her now, but that would be easily solved once the new arrival departed on her way.
He’d thought it might be lovers come for a quick tryst. But then he’d seen her get out.
She walked with her left hand in the pocket of a coat too big for her, while the other carried a flashlight. He saw her clearly in the beams of her headlights as she walked to the edge of the lake.
The wind grabbed her hair, wrapped it around her face, her neck. He’d always liked her hair, that soft color between blonde and brown. She shook her head, turned and walked towards him. He held his breath. What if she found him? He couldn’t let that happen. Not again.
His question had been answered.
But how to end it? She wasn’t a whore. Not like the others. Hers had to be different. Didn’t it? He didn’t want to hurt her. He knew she wasn’t a whore, but she couldn’t know either. He knew that now.
The fruity scent of her shampoo, the light airy perfume she wore wafted on the air behind her. He’d always liked her scent. Found it intriguing.
Now where was she going? Then, she stopped, turned almost back towards him. Her head rose as though scenting danger, as though recognizing him.
If the little lady only knew. If she went much further she’d find the damn car. Maybe she wouldn’t notice, wouldn’t look too closely.
But if she did . . .
Well, as the saying went, curiosity killed the cat. Killed the cat. Killed the cat . . .
And after all, she had to die anyway.
• • •
Jesslyn strained to hear any sound, but nothing came back to her. With a shrug, she went on.
Kind of creepy out here at night. Come to think of it, she’d never before ventured out here after dark. It was probably spectacular on a clear evening, the starlit sky or a full moon reflecting on the calm serene waters. Now though, the scene reminded her of her nightmares. Fog lifted off the water. Her steps slowed as those images from sleep intruded.
Paranoia could be a healthy thing. Jesslyn forced herself to hurry on. She’d run away enough tonight, she wasn’t about to leave until she had things sorted out. Her nerves were just frazzled. Death and lilies. Killers and funerals. And Aiden.
Tammy was right. Meditation would be nice.
Jesslyn rounded another bunch of the cloying sweet-smelling bushes and the circle of light shone off the wet mud at her feet.
Rain started to fall again, quicker and harder. The light patter on the water became a drumming. Lightning flashed, blinding her in its brightness. She stopped in her tracks. To hell with this. There was determined to prove something to herself and then there was just stupidity. Thunder crashed, echoed off the mountainsides around her.
A chill raced down her spine. Thunder, lightning, fog. Hannah’s voice from her dream, “He’s watching you.”
Rain pelted her head, Jesslyn spun around, circling the flashlight out in an attempt to see into the night. A murderer. Out alone at night. Stop it! No one had followed her, she’d checked. The night absorbed her light.
She should go. Go now. Again, she turned around, and saw it.
How could she have missed it? The front of the car was only a few feet away. If she’d walked on, with her head down, she’d have run into the damn thing. Her flashlight came up, shown into the windshield and the driver’s window.
The wind picked up, howled and moaned around her. Jesslyn stood frozen, her beam of light catching the dark, smeared handprint on the window. One step towards the car. Lightning flashed and with it stark realization.
White car. Oh, God. Thunder ripped the air. She noticed the water trickling down the glass didn’t disturb the grotesque warning. Inside, the handprint was inside. One more step. Her light caught the fiery strands of red hair slumped over in the seat. Crystals from the dreadlocks caught and held her light.
Tammy!
The flashlight fell from her hand. Nightmares collided with reality. Sweet Jesus!
Jesslyn bent to her knees in the mud, grabbing for the flashlight, only to have it slip from her trembling fingers before she tightened it in her fist.
Whether on the wind or from the memory of her mind, Hannah’s voice carried the warning, “Hurry, Mommy. Hurry!”
She jumped to her feet, slipped and slid in the mud. Tore off towards the Jeep. Oh, God. Oh, God. She was out here all alone. No one knew where she was.
The pocket of her coat banged against her thigh. With barely a pause in her run, her fingers closed around the phone. Awkwardly, she yanked it from her pocket. Flipped it opened.
Please let it work. She dialed nine-one-one. The call went through. Thank you, God. She heard the ring through the ear piece.
Not, now. Please don’t screw up on me now.
It rang again. Did she dial right? Did it matter who was on the other end? Who the hell had she called?
Jesslyn saw the Jeep as she barreled around the last group of bushes. Rain plastered the hair to her head. The mud jerked her feet out from under her as she rounded the back. A muffled voice sounded through the phone before she dropped it. Frantically, she searched for it.
There under the tire. Damn it! She jumped into the driver’s seat, still clutching the phone.
“Hello?”
“Nine-one-one dispatch, what’s the emergency?”
“Hello? Please, help me. I’m at Emerald Lake! He’s here . . .” No keys.
“Ma’am, who’s there? Are you in danger?”
Where the hell were her keys? She’d left them here. Right here in the ignition.
“Shit. My keys. My keys are gone. Oh, God. Oh, God.” She held the phone between her ear and shoulder, patted the sides of her wet jeans, the pockets of her coat.
“Ma’am, calm down. Who’s there with you?” a voice asked.
“I don’t know who the hell he is. But she’s, oh God, she’s dead. Please, help me.”
Jesslyn leaned down to search the floorboard.
“Looking for these?”
She jerked up, screamed at the coated figure jingling her life line. The phone dropped to her lap. For a second, she couldn’t
move.
He lunged for her.
Jesslyn clutched the phone in one hand, the flashlight in the other and dove across the seats, falling out the passenger’s door. She was up and running even as he climbed out.
The flashlight was heavy. She could use it for a weapon if she had to. Mud sucked at her feet.
Her heart raced. She pounded along the shore of the lake. Wind pushed against her, slowing her down. The storm swirled and let loose its fury around her.
Redial. She needed to redial. If she could put enough distance between them. She dared a glance back over her shoulder.
She never saw the branch lying across the ground, the large log it was attached to.
Her foot caught and she went flying. Her face hit the ground, her fingers squeezed the oozy mud between them. Where was the phone? The flashlight?
Jesslyn hurried to get up. His footfalls thundering closer.
She made it to her knees before he was on her, knocking her flat again.
“No!” she screamed. Kicking out with her foot, Jesslyn twisted and clawed at her assailant.
Her short nails scraped down the leather of his long coat. His hood obscured his face.
She fought, punched and kicked. She tried to use her defensive training. But he was strong. She futilely screamed at the top of her lungs in a vain hope someone might hear her over the thunder. His hands grabbed at her waist, and he tossed her onto her back. Then, he was over her. Jesslyn shoved her hand up, tried to hit his larynx, but her wet hands slicked off. Again she tried, but only managed to push against his hardened jaw. If she could just reach his damn eyes!
The beam of her flashlight absorbed into the black duster he wore. Jesslyn strained back towards the metal weapon. Her fingers inching over the wet, slick mud. She stopped.
“Ma’am?” she heard come from the phone.
Something pressed against her neck, cold and hard. Oh, God.
“Please,” she whimpered. She didn’t dare move, not even to lower her own hand from his face.
“Bitch. You’re no different than the rest of them, are you?” His voice grated out. “I ought to cut your throat for that.”
“Ma’am!” again from her phone.
The man reached over and grabbed it, clicking it shut before he tossed it away.
Please, someone help her.
He changed his hold on the knife, his hand passing hers on the ground as he grabbed for the flashlight.
Lightning shot the sky, illuminated the grim reaper above her. Thunder tore through the air, vibrated the ground.
The steely blade of the knife pressed against the soft skin of her throat. A cold sting bit as the skin broke.
She was going to die. Aiden. She’d never get to see Aiden again. The knife lessened its pressure. With no warning, he brought the flashlight up over him. In that split second, the light fell on his face.
Jesslyn recognized death before light exploded behind her eyes and darkness swept her away.
• • •
His whole body trembled. What the hell had happened? When he’d realized she was on the phone, he’d panicked. Even now someone could be coming. Breaking speeding records to get here. The fact he didn’t know how much time he had ate at him.
Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.
He hadn’t expected her to run. She’d fought back. Little cat went for his face, his throat. Few fought back. But, the terror in her eyes had been the same as all the others. Terror was the same for all of them. The anger burning in her darkened eyes was a surprise.
He didn’t know if he wanted to be sick at the thought of what he’d just done and whom he’d done it to. Yet, the excitement was there. The knowledge of what he could do was a praise to him.
He looked down at her, still now. So still. Blood trickled in a line across her neck, the water running the crimson stain on both sides of the smooth pale column. His leather-clad fingers trailed down her perfectly arched neck, now turned to the side, smearing a red trail.
Blood flowed from the left side of her head, ran in rivulets down the side of her face, into her hair.
He smoothed the wet tangled hair back from her cheek, bent and placed a kiss on her mouth.
“Pretty, pretty.” The beast stirred in pleasure. She moaned.
He had work to do. Hurry, hurry. The woman had made him angry at first, when she’d fought him like a tigress, but then, he had to admire her determination. In afterthought, he was glad he hadn’t stabbed her like the whores, or cut her neck, like he started to. No, hitting her on the head would suffice. Now, she’d just go to sleep and never wake up. Sort of peaceful, wasn’t it? Like Sleeping Beauty without the waking kiss. He ran a finger across her cheek.
“Pretty, pretty, Jesslyn.” Just one more taste. He leaned down and kissed her.
Rain poured down in sheets from the warring heavens. He stood, heard her keys jangle in his pocket. What a lucky idea that had been. He’d seen her stop by the car. Backtracking to the Jeep, he’d beaten her there, removed the keys from her ignition.
He’d keep them. The keys would be a nice memento. Though a piece of her hair would be nice too. Sort of like the rest, but not. He bent down, humming Berlioz as he cut a strand of her hair before picking her up.
In less than five minutes, he had her strapped into the passenger seat of the little white compact car. The whore was between them, partially slumped over.
Hurry. Hurry. Hurry. They might be coming.
He drove the car up the hill a ways, positioned it just right. He didn’t want it veering off now, did he? He put it in park and left the parking lights on to see what he was doing. The rope came out of his pocket. Preparation was a virtue in his mission.
He tried not to think of her sitting in the passenger seat. A slight movement made him study her. After staring at her, he figured it didn’t matter. In a few minutes, she’d be as dead as the whore. And his problems would be over.
When the steering wheel was secured, and the harlot strapped into the driver’s seat, a smile lit his face. Perhaps, he would toast the life of the innocent. He did feel bad about having to kill her, but one must do what one must do. Didn’t one? For the barest of moments indecision crept upon him, but he quickly brushed it off.
Finally. He grabbed the heavy flashlight out of his pocket and secured it to the accelerator with the extra rope. Last, he pulled the crushed lilies from inside his coat pocket and tossed them into the car. Rain still pelted off his coat as he shut the car door. Through the open window, he flicked the car into gear before jumping back out of the way. The car careened down the slope and hit the water. He stood on the hillside, watched the car slowly sink into the deep lake. The water churned and roiled in the wake of its grave.
Damn! He’d forgotten the parking lights! Hell. The monster roared. A muscle bunched in his clenched jaw. It was too late now. On a curse, he ran in the rain to his motorcycle hidden in the forest. Someone would be here soon, better take escape B.
On the road high above the lake, he pressed his lips to the tips of his fingers, and blew a kiss to Jesslyn.
• • •
Cold, it was so cold. Someone moaned. The gush of water roared in her ears, lapped at her consciousness.
Pain stabbed through her head, sharp, piercing. Blackness pulled at her, begged her to give in to the sweet oblivion.
A groan, and she tilted forwards.
Jesslyn opened her eyes, slowly, carefully.
Where was she? It was so damn cold. She tried to lift her hand, but it moved slowly as if through water. Through water . . .
Everything was blurry, unfocused, but she felt water all around her. Dizzily, she made out a dashboard in the darkness. What was happening? Where was she?
Jesslyn moaned at the pain in her head, her dripping hand came away sticky. The dark liquid evident on the ends of her fingers.
Blood. She was bleeding.
Then, reality set in. She was in a car. Water gushed in through the driver’s window. The woman slumped agains
t the harness holding her in the seat as the car dipped down and sideways at an angle. She reached out to shake the woman. Red, dreadlocked hair fell to the side when the head lolled, and familiar eyes stared blankly.
Oh, God. Tammy. Oh, God. Jesslyn sat frozen, unable to link what she was seeing with what was happening.
“Tammy?” She reached out and touched the girl.
Have to get out. Have to get out. Something was holding her in. Seat belt. Seat belt.
Her fingers, numb from the icy water, fumbled with the release button. The water rose. Now it was at her chest. The cold seeped into her, around her, froze her in fear.
Finally, she managed to push the little square and the seat belt gave. She fell forwards, deeper into the water, almost under the dash.
Hurry. She had to hurry. What was she doing with Tammy in a sinking car? Did it matter? She had to get out, had to get them out.
Reaching over she unbuckled Tammy’s belt, but the girl didn’t move.
The dull glow from the dash lights made her remember the battery was obviously still working. The window. She had to get out. Or the door. What had her dad always said about a sinking vehicle? Wait till the water level was high enough she could open the door? Wait till it filled? She couldn’t remember and it hardly mattered.
Her numb fingers ran along her door. Searching, searching.
The water rose, and the car dipped nose-down. In the murky depths, Jesslyn saw nothing past the windshield.
She could have cried when her fingers found the indentions of buttons. Water rose, and she gasped a mouth full of air before it closed over her head, pressing the first indention. The muffled clunk echoed eerily in the water. The doors. Hurry, hurry.
Cold so cold. Another button. The window gave and started to roll down. She reached out and grabbed Tammy’s hand, pulling her up. The window made it almost to the bottom of the slot before everything went black. The window stopped.
Darkness closed around her. No. No. If it wasn’t for the icy water she’d have thought she was unconscious. Sinking, the car was sinking, further and further down. They were going to die.
