“Do you love her?” asked Jeremiah, in as caring a voice as he could muster.
“I've loved her most of my life.”
Most of his life? But I know he just met her? “How did you meet?”
“It was on Coney Island. We were both teenagers. Our parents had brought us there and we met in the lineup to get cotton candy.” Eldridge knelt back down beside Aynslee and turned her face toward him. “She didn't have enough money with her so I gave her the extra quarter she needed. She thanked me and kissed me on the cheek.” His voice cracked as he ran his fingers through her hair, lifting his hand and gently letting the strands stream through and back down to the mattress. “When she sat on a nearby swing, I asked if I could join her. I had never asked a girl anything like that before, but there was something intoxicating about her that gave me the courage to ask. She said yes and we sat on those swings for hours, eating our cotton candy and just talking. It was the last time I can remember being truly happy.” He smiled at her then turned his head toward Jeremiah. “Have you ever known love?”
Jeremiah shook his head. “No, never.” He was surprised at how much it hurt to say.
Eldridge nodded and looked back at Aynslee. “Neither had I until that day. I knew at that moment I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.”
“What happened?”
“We made arrangements to meet, but on the way home, there was an accident.” His voice cracked. “My mother was killed.” Tears rolled freely down his cheeks and Jeremiah couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, knowing how he had felt when his sister had died. “I wasn’t able to meet her. My father ripped up her number when I said I wanted to call her.” He wiped the tears from his face and continued, his voice barely a whisper. “I've been looking for her ever since. A lot of times I thought I had found her, but they turned out to not be her.” He wiped away a tear that had fallen on her cheek. “When I saw her I knew she was the one I had lost so many years ago. It was fate that brought us together.”
Jeremiah hesitated to ask, but his own curiosity won out. “How many women have there been?”
“Dozens over the years.”
“Dozens?” Bile began to rise in Jeremiah’s throat.
“Oh, don't get me wrong, most I found out quickly weren't her, there's only been a handful I've invited home.”
“Invited? Is that what you call it?” Jeremiah immediately regretted his question.
Eldridge’s head snapped toward him, his eyes glaring. “You're just trying to delay the inevitable.” Eldridge pulled Jeremiah’s weapon from his belt and motioned toward the far wall. “Against the wall!” Jeremiah stood and backed toward the wall as Eldridge stepped onto the platform and pulled on the chain, slowly raising the platform until he disappeared.
Jeremiah immediately reached in his pocket and fished out a handcuff key he always carried, just in case he might need it some day. He unlocked the cuffs, then looked around but saw nothing he could use as a weapon. Aynslee moaned and rolled onto her back. Jeremiah walked over, knelt down beside her and slapped her face lightly, trying to revive her.
“Come on lady, wakeup!” He slapped her again, this time a little harder. “Wake up!”
The sting of something hitting Aynslee’s face sliced through the fog filling her head. The earnestness with which the voice urged her on forced her to focus as she willed her way to consciousness. Another slap, this time harder, stung enough for her to gasp and open her eyes, revealing a blurred image of someone looking down at her. She blinked several times and the face came into focus, sending her heart racing as her chest tightened in terror. Jeremiah! She scrambled back, hitting a wall behind her. “Stay away from me!”
Jeremiah raised a hand to calm her down. “Listen lady, I'm not going to hurt you. We've got bigger problems, you hear?”
Unconvinced, Aynslee quickly glanced around then scrambled into a far corner. “Wh-what do you mean?”
Jeremiah threw up his hands. “Jesus Christ, lady, look around you, you're in a fucking dungeon!”
As his words echoed in her head, her memories flooded back. The meal. Her feeling like she had been drugged. Eldridge looking down at her then kissing her. She looked around. Where the hell am I? “What is this place?”
“We're in the basement, under his kitchen.” Pointing at the kitchen floor over their heads, he traced the platform’s outline above them. “He's got some kind of pulley system that raises and lowers a platform in here.”
“But why?”
“He seems to think you're some long lost love of his named Sarah.”
“Sarah?”
“Yeah, and looking at this setup, I don't think you're the first one he's had down here.”
The fog in Aynslee's head cleared, she took stock of her situation. Looking at the young man in front of her, the irony of her serial killer being the victim of her other serial killer struck her as oddly humorous. But not enough to make her laugh. God, what did I do to deserve this? “He's going to kill us, isn't he?”
Jeremiah shook his head. “No, he's going to kill me. You, I think he's going to marry.”
“Marry? That'll be the day.” She felt a twinge in her heart. If Eldridge had simply asked her out, she would have said yes, and may have never known the true psychopath he was. There but for the grace of God …
“Something tells me he won't take no for an answer. This guy's in love. You should’ve seen him. Creepy.”
A harrumph escaped Aynslee’s throat. “You're one to talk.”
Jeremiah looked at her and chuckled. “Yeah, I guess, eh? You're a reporter. Did you figure out why I did what I did?”
“You mean kill all those people?”
Jeremiah nodded.
“Patricia Arnette was your sister. You killed the people from the train who didn't help her.”
“Right. And you were one of them.”
“Maybe you should know some things. You remember Tammera Coverdale?”
“Of course.”
“I did a piece on her after you sent your first video, after the police identified her. She was engaged to be married.”
“Yes, I knew that. I watched them all for months. I probably know them better than they know themselves.”
“Did you know that her father was so distraught he attacked me and was arrested, that her mother tried to kill herself? He was put on suicide watch while he was in custody, that's how distraught he is over his daughter's death.”
Jeremiah remained silent.
“Ibrahim Jamar, the cab driver, was married with a young daughter.”
“I know.”
“Did you know he was forced to watch while his wife and daughter were brutally raped by the Janjaweed in the Sudan?”
Jeremiah paused. “No. No, I didn't know that.”
“Yes, and now because of you, that poor woman has experienced tragedy for the second time in her life, and has to live with not only the memory of the rape, but the murder of her husband before her very eyes.” She looked into Jeremiah's eyes, searching for some sign of remorse. “Nathan Small, the amputee? He fought in Afghanistan and saved his entire platoon in an ambush. He was rushing onto your subway car to try and save your sister, and even tried to chase the men who attacked her but was too slow because of his legs. Did you know that?” demanded Aynslee.
“No,” Jeremiah mumbled.
Aynslee continued. “And you may have had a problem with William 'Lance' Hanson being gay, but he was a loving brother to a young sister who adored him, and now she's lost her brother just like you lost your sister.” She watched for a moment as tears welled in Jeremiah's eyes. “Those people you killed, they were real people, with real people who loved them, and now, thanks to you, those people feel just as alone as you do without your sister.”
A single tear rolled down Jeremiah's cheek as his heart thumped in his tightening chest, the rush of blood filled his ears as the growing pit in his stomach threatened to heave with guilt. What have I done? He pictured his sister an
d her beautiful smile that had lit his heart for the last time. He remembered the excitement of discovering he wasn’t alone, the excitement they had both felt. Her eyes had reminded him so much of his mother's it had brought tears to his eyes when he first looked in them. The moment he spotted her sitting in the booth at the Brooklyn Diner he had an immediate connection. She was family. A family he was certain he had lost forever. He had felt happy. Truly happy. Truly happy for the first time since his parents had died. And he had wanted to share this by bringing her to meet the closest thing to family he had had until he met her, Father O'Neil, for it was Father O'Neil who had encouraged him to find her and he couldn’t wait for them to meet. He collapsed to the floor and looked up at the ceiling above, piercing it with his eyes as he tried to reach out to his beloved victim.
“Forgive me, Father!”
The night’s events rushed back, fresh for the first time in a year, the waiting on the platform for the subway to arrive, the two black teenagers racing down the stairs, the doors opening and he and Patricia stepping aboard as the two teens jumped through the doors, laughing loudly. He remembered Patricia squeezing past them and taking a seat, and when he tried to join her, the one loud kid yelled at him when he made eye contact, thrusting his chest out at him, hammering it with his fist and yelling something about respect. He had immediately dropped his gaze, but it was too late. His challenger shoved past him, sending him into a nearby seat occupied by a woman busy on her BlackBerry. Aynslee! He watched in horror as the teenager sat down beside his sister and placed his arm around her. She yelled at him to get his hands off of her and he immediately started cursing, jumping from the seat, flailing his arms about. Patricia pushed her way toward where he was and they headed for the doors when he was yanked from behind and thrown to the floor. He remembered looking up to see the horrified expression on the face of a woman as she stared at him, her eyes wide open. Abby! He felt hands on him as someone tried to help him up but he had struggled against them and pushed them away. Lance!
He had watched, paralyzed in fear, as the boy shoved Patricia from behind, causing her to stumble forward and fall to the floor. He winced at the memory of his sister being kicked, over and over, all the while her attacker cursing at her, spitting on her, mocking her cries for help. He had struggled to his feet and rushed to help her, but as soon as he saw the outline of a gun pointing through the pocket of the attacker’s jacket, the menacing look as he threatened to shoot him, he collapsed. The memory of fainting brought an overwhelming sense of shame as intense now as it was then. When he woke a few moments later they were still kicking his sister, but, too terrified to move, he played possum. He remembered seeing a black man gripping his chair, staring at him, an elderly woman crying, and those two damned bastards taping the whole thing. And then he remembered it. Something he hadn't remembered until this very moment. It was a man, yelling as he struggled through the adjoining car’s door. It was Nathan Small, his artificial limbs slowing him down in his effort to reach the attackers.
Someone had tried to save her.
He looked back at Aynslee, tears freely flowing down his cheeks. “Detective Eldridge asked me if I had ever known love.” He paused and took a deep breath, stifling a sob. “I said no, but I lied. I did know love once. It was for my sister. From the moment I laid eyes on her I loved her, with all my heart. And I only got to love her for three hours and forty-two minutes.” He looked at Aynslee. “That's all I got to spend with her. Three hours and forty-two minutes! And then those two animals killed her and I was too terrified to stop them.” He lowered his chin and sobbed, his shoulders shaking out of control.
Aynslee reached out and laid her hand on top of his. “We all were, Jeremiah. We were all terrified.” He looked up at her but couldn’t speak, his body racked with sobs. “Your sister didn't deserve to die, but neither did those other people. You know that now, don't you?”
Jeremiah nodded as he continued to cry. “I'm sorry,” he wailed. “Oh, God, what have I done?” Father, I'm so sorry! He covered his face with his hands as Aynslee put her arms around him. He buried his head in her shoulder as she rubbed his back. The overwhelming grief and shame he had felt for over a year, the grief and shame he had kept bottled inside, finally released, and it felt good, it felt good to be held, to remember what had happened not only to his sister, but to him. It felt good to feel like a victim should feel, sad, angry, the roller coaster of emotions that came with grief, a roller coaster kept in its gate for a year, finally rushing down the track in a torrent of emotion so cathartic, his sobs soon stopped, a tremendous weight lifted off his shoulders, and another, heavier weight, a weight of realization of what he had done, beginning to set in.
He pulled away and looked at Aynslee. “I'm sorry, Miss Kai, I'm sorry for everything I put you through.”
She smiled at him, a smile that made him feel some day, some day he might be forgiven for what he had done. “I know you are, Jeremiah.”
The distinct rattle of the chain overhead startled them both. The platform creaked and dropped several inches, sending Aynslee scrambling for the corner. Jeremiah grabbed her arm and pulled her close, cupping his hand over her ear. “When the platform’s half way down I'm going to jump him. You go for help.” She nodded, lay back down and closed her eyes, feigning sleep. Jeremiah turned his attention to the platform as it inched lower, revealing more of their captor with each pull of the chain. He hugged the wall and edged his way around their prison, positioning himself at Eldridge's back, waiting for the platform to be low enough for Aynslee to jump onto, but not too low for Eldridge to be able to see he was hiding from him. His heart pounded in his chest, his fingers dug into the dirt wall as he took a step forward and leaned over, ready to charge, surprise essential to saving their lives. He wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead as Eldridge’s torso came into view.
The descent stopped.
Eldridge leaned forward and reached behind him, pulling out the gun tucked in his belt. Jeremiah sprang forward and shoved the platform hard, swinging it violently away from him. Eldridge stumbled backward and grasped at the chain, trying to steady himself. Jeremiah jumped up, his chest now on the platform, and grabbed Eldridge by the ankles, pulling with all his might as he let his body drop off the platform. Eldridge fell forward hard, the upper half of his body tumbling over the unstable platform’s edge then onto the hard floor below. Jeremiah dove on top of him, struggling for the gun still firmly in Eldridge's grasp.
“Go, Aynslee, go!” he screamed as he wrestled with Eldridge. He watched Aynslee jump up and struggle onto the still swinging platform then lost sight of her as Eldridge flipped them both onto their fronts. The rattling of the chain as Aynslee pulled on it, all the while screaming for help, urged him on in his struggle with the bigger and more powerful man. He knew he would ultimately lose this battle, but he just had to hold on for a few more minutes.
He had to fight dirty.
He sunk his teeth into Eldridge’s shoulder, the yelp of pain renewing his confidence momentarily. Eldridge threw his elbow back and shook Jeremiah free. Jeremiah fell onto his back and caught a glimpse of Aynslee scrambling into the kitchen above. He kicked at Eldridge’s legs and made contact, shin to shin, leaving him hoping Eldridge was feeling the same stinging pain now racing through his leg. Eldridge fell forward, his hands stretched in front of him to break his fall. As he slammed into the floor, the gun, still gripped tightly in his right hand, fired, spraying dirt from the wall in their faces. Jeremiah jumped on his back but Eldridge was ready, this time swinging back with his elbow and catching Jeremiah squarely in the nose. The blinding pain caused Jeremiah to grab his face, rather than Eldridge, who immediately took advantage of his opponent’s momentary disorientation. He threw Jeremiah off his back and rolled away, jumping to his feet.
Aynslee had watched the fight through slightly opened eyes, and as soon as Jeremiah yelled, she sprang to her feet and rolled onto the swaying platform. Steadying herself with the chain, she pulled on i
t as fast as her shaking hands would allow, the platform slowly, painfully, inching toward the floor above as the death struggle below continued. She screamed for help at the top of her lungs, hoping someone outside the house might hear her. In less than a minute she was high enough to pull herself over the edge and onto the kitchen floor. She stole one last glance at the two men below and raced for the front door.
A loud crack from behind shocked her motionless. She had never heard a real gunshot before, and despite the fact it didn’t sound like what she expected, terror gripped her as she realized Jeremiah was probably dead, and Eldridge would soon be after her. She resumed her dash, reaching the door at the end of the hallway, and fumbled with the locks. A second shot rang out and she heard the platform creak as she turned the final lock, yanking the door open. A blast of crisp, cool night air greeted her, but a latched screen door blocked her path. She pushed against it, the frame rattling but not budging. She reached for the clasp, the heavy sound of footsteps gaining speed on the floor behind her caused her hands to shake. She screamed as she tried to slide the latch with her trembling thumb.
Shakespeare parked in front of his partner’s house, worried. He still hadn't reached Eldridge, and knew this was a gamble, but could think of no other place the kid might be. This is where I’d go. He looked around at the almost impossibly quiet neighborhood. Tall hedges circled many of the properties, casting long shadows from the streetlamps above, the neighboring houses mostly in darkness, their occupants long retired, only the occasional porch light suggesting anyone might be home, or expected home later. He looked at the neatly trimmed hedge, over twelve feet high, surrounding his partner’s house, and shook his head. I really don’t know anything about the kid. He found the narrow entrance in the center of the hedge, and squeezed through, cursing at Eldridge for not making it wider. Finally free, he walked up the path toward the front door as he fished his cell phone out to try calling him once more. His thumb hovered over the Send button when he heard the front door open. He smiled, pleased his hunch had paid off, as he recognized Aynslee Kai. He reached for his badge to identify himself when he heard a scream erupt from her unlike anything he had ever heard, evoking every feeling of terror and desperation he could imagine.
Depraved Difference (A Detective Shakespeare Mystery, Book #1) Page 30
