by Mary Stone
Cold Truth
Ellie Kline Series: Book One
Mary Stone
Donna Berdel
Copyright © 2020 by Mary Stone
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
Mary Stone
To my husband.
Thank you for taking care of our home and its many inhabitants while I follow this silly dream of mine.
Donna Berdel
First, a big thank you to Mary Stone for taking a chance on me by collaborating on this story. I’m honored and indebted!And, of course, to my husband. Thank you for being you. You’re my rock.
Contents
Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Ellie Kline Series
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Description
Say the words...
In a dark basement, a cold-blooded killer pits friend against friend, torturing one until the other says the horrible words that will end their friend’s suffering. He’s gotten away with murder for years. Until now...
Ellie Kline can’t remember most of her kidnapping when she was fifteen, but that night has shaped her life. Instead of cowering, that horrible night made her strong. Determined to prove herself as a cop despite being heir to the Kline fortune, she never backs down, and she never takes no for an answer. When the daring takedown of a suspect catapults her into the spotlight, it earns her a promotion...and the admiration of a killer.
Now a detective assigned to the Cold Case Unit, Ellie is drawn into the mysterious murder of a young, unidentified college-age woman with no missing persons’ report, no leads, and no evidence. Even more shocking is that, while she was tortured extensively, her death was quick. But as Ellie delves deeper, she discovers a startling connection between the woman found dismembered in a park and another Jane Doe case. Is there more?
As hazy memories of her own past begin to surface, it’s not only her family and the brass at Charleston PD who are watching her every move. Someone lurks in the shadows, ready to kill if Ellie’s journey into history gets too close to the cold truth.
A riveting roller coaster ride of a psychological thriller, Cold Truth is the first book of the Ellie Kline Series that will make you consider adding a second lock to your door.
1
Dark.
Damp.
Cold.
Tabitha forced her eyes open.
Joyful humming was like a whisper, and Tabitha fought to locate the source. He was there, in the corner, puttering around in the deep shadows the single lightbulb couldn’t chase from the dank room.
She squeezed her eyelids shut again. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks, racing to her chin and down her neck, the liquid warm against her cool skin.
Frozen by the knowledge that he was near, she couldn’t stop her eyes from opening just enough to watch him.
Fingers tingling, she tried to flex her hands to bring the blood flow back to her frozen flesh. But the ropes were too tight, and the heavy iron chair’s arms curved unnaturally, turning her wrists at a painful angle. She forced herself to focus on the pain, willing her anger to build.
Without light from the outside world to mark the sun’s travels, she’d lost track of how long they’d been in the old basement. An eternity? She was starting to wonder if her memories from before were just dreams. Had she always been here—trapped and starving—staring at a woman tied up just like her? Had she possessed a life before this happened? Had she really gone to college, or had that been a dream?
At first, she’d thought the woman was her reflection in a mirror. Her hair was even almost the color of her own, except it had that freshly colored hue of a first time bleach job, glinting in the light from the bulb so it seemed like coppery strands ran through the golden brown. Tabitha had woken up before the woman, who had been unconscious still, blissfully dead to the world. Sleeping through this ordeal seemed to be her superpower.
Or was it from blood loss?
The woman’s outfit was exactly like the one he’d dressed Tabitha in—a lavender shirt and jeans. The exception was the pool of black blood surrounding this stranger, crusted on the rough concrete. In the middle of the pool lay a decaying finger. Beside it, one that appeared a little fresher.
Tabitha took stock of herself. Ten fingers. Ten toes. A detached feeling brought on by shock and low levels of ketamine numbed her senses. The man had earlier told her the name of the drug and why it had been the perfect choice. Low levels of ketamine deadened the senses and slowed down the reflexes. The purest torture, he’d called it, just before he’d demanded that she beg him for more.
Her head was still tender where it had bounced off the wall when she’d spit in his face, and he’d backhanded her so hard she felt her brain slam against her skull. Her neck was sore, stiff, and cricked to the side from being held in one position for so long. Shivers wracked her body—a futile attempt to bring warmth. She slid into merciful blackness again.
When she next woke, the man was gone. For a moment, she and the woman were alone.
“Mabel,” Tabitha whispered, her voice echoing in the almost empty dark space. “Mabel, wake up.”
Mabel groaned, and a single red dot to her left clicked on in the darkness, then turned green.
Another one appeared to Tabitha’s left.
She whimpered. Not again, she prayed silently, fresh tears gushing from her itchy eyes. Please, not again.
Mabel blinked, her expression showing how much her alertness had been muddled by sleep and the cocktail of pharmaceutical-grade poison that did nothing to ease her pain. Realization snapped her eyes open wide with fear as her befuddled brain made sense of what she was seeing. She started blubbering, her words senseless and heart-wrenching.
Tabitha could tell that Mabel knew what was coming, even if she couldn’t form the words. The horror was no less for her failing. Having all of her tongue in her mouth wouldn’t bring clarity…or freedom.
“Mabel, please, look at me. We’re going to make it out of this. I promise.”
A buzzzz from the ceiling made Tabitha’s pulse leap, drawing her attention to the clear IV tubes that were always there. She fought her restraints, but the liquid made its way to the line that was duct taped to her forearm. She watched in horror, then screamed when the fire entered her arm and found its way through the vein, spreading out and scorching every capillary it passed.
She tried to focus on Mabel, but the woman was convulsing, head lulling to the side. Suddenly, she snapped upright, eyes wide and unblinking. Whatever he’d given her, it had forced her into what she’d worked so hard to pull away from—clarity, alertness. Her line was a putrid green that made Tabitha gag.
&n
bsp; She wretched, her stomach cramping and trying desperately to expel the emptiness.
“You’ll stop that in a minute.” The man’s voice was soft, reassuring, but Tabitha jerked. She hadn’t heard him enter. “Tell me, what colors do you see?” The casual way he addressed her threatened to drive her mad.
Turning feral, Tabitha growled at him, her hatred visceral and overwhelming. The entire room began to drip with a viscous green liquid, a shade darker than her favorite color. She would never like lime green again. An instant later, it dried up with an audible pop that hurt her eyes instead of her ears, and the green was gone. Even Mabel’s IV line held clear liquid, and Tabitha realized that it had never been green.
A low, keening sound tumbled from Mabel’s lips. She’d given up hope.
Tabitha didn’t blame her. He’d tortured her mercilessly. Tabitha’s only pain had been in being forced to watch. She didn’t know why he’d chosen her over Mabel, but Tabitha refused to do the horrible thing he’d asked her to.
She couldn’t.
He appeared in the light, standing out of sight of both cameras, like he always did.
Mabel was trying to move, but she couldn’t overpower his concoction.
Besides, it wasn’t Mabel he was looking at. It was her.
“Tabitha, Tabitha, Tabitha,” he tsked, sharpening the already razor-edged butcher knife. His tongue glided over his teeth in time with each swipe.
Did he know that he did such a thing? Had he been bullied for being the weird one? Was that what turned him into a monster, or had he always been soulless, excited by fear and the smell of blood?
“Nothing pretty rhymes with Tabitha. It’s such a pointless name. Now, Mabel. That’s a beautiful name with so much potential. I wonder if someone will write a poem about her? Sable, table, able, stable, fable, cable.” He sucked in air through clenched teeth, his eyes closing as if he were savoring fine wine. “It’s almost prophetic. Like the gods themselves created her just for me. A shame I won’t have her to play with much longer.”
“You’re letting her go?” Tabitha asked before she could stop herself. She blinked, bit her lip hard, trying to hold in the words that wanted to spill out. “I’m not telling you that I’m thinking about killing you when I’m untied. You can’t make me do it.” She gasped as a hard shudder ran through her. “What did you give me?”
“My own concoction. Aside from the nausea, do you like it? Did it fill you with rage?”
“Your face does that for me,” she spat out. “I hope you fall on that knife and die.”
“Ooh,” he giggled, clearly delighted. The girlish laugh grated on Tabitha’s nerves like a knife. “I like this Tabitha. I may have to change my plans for you.”
“I don’t want to die.” The last word cracked, and as it exited her throat, a sudden sob made her sound just as miserable and afraid as she felt.
“Of course you don’t, but I’m not talking about that. Tell me, what are you thinking about right now?”
She fought, trying to keep the words inside, but they still came. Sobbing, she described exactly how she’d planned to kill him and escape.
His eyebrows arched slightly, and he nodded. “If you hadn’t told me, that might have worked. That’s why I want to hear your every thought. You see, some women are so smart they make my job difficult.”
“This isn’t a job,” Tabitha sneered, kicking at the chair, rage thundering over the fear.
“Not to you, but to me, this is everything.” He swept his arms wide, as if presenting the room for her appraisal. “I don’t function well if I don’t have my pets. You’re doing this for the greater good. I have to release the valve to be at my best. And the world needs me at my best. Don’t you care about anyone but yourself, Tabitha?”
“I’m not a pet.”
“Tomato, to-mah-toe.” He pulled a hair from Tabitha’s head and ran it across the blade. It split in two. “Now, for today’s challenge. We’ll pick up where we left off.”
“No!” Her scream echoed off the cinderblock walls.
Mabel wailed in response, the sound so pitiful it filled Tabitha with a sadness she’d never known.
“You can be that way.” A pouty tone entered his voice. “Or you can be a team player.”
“I’ll never play your game.”
He smiled and shrugged, running his tongue over his teeth again. “Tabitha,” he said, and pretended to gag. “What an ugly name. Did you ever consider changing it? I’m wondering, since you cannot tell a lie right now.”
“I love my name.”
“Huh.” He appeared to be desperately disappointed in her. “Okay, then. Anyway, as I was saying. Choosing not to play the game is playing the game. So, you’re still playing.”
“I hate you.” Her teeth were clenched again, the hatred so thick in her chest she could barely draw in a breath.
“Oh, there’s where we agree. I hate me too. That’s why I do this. To feel alive.”
She blinked, tilting her chin up slightly, imagining what her daddy would do once she got free. “My father is going to find you and make you wish you’d never been born.”
“It’s so cute that you truly believe that. It’s inspiring, really. But your noble spirit is tiresome. I’m ready to play.”
He took his place beside Mabel, who was shaking so forcefully her teeth chattered.
A hysterical laugh bubbled up from Tabitha’s chest. She slammed her head back, connecting with the wall hard enough to clack her teeth together. The laughter spilled out anyway.
He waited until she was quiet again before demanding her to, “Say the words.”
“Never!” Tabitha snarled the refusal through clenched teeth.
“This won’t end until you do.”
“I won’t do it.” She tried to look away. Her eyes wouldn’t cooperate.
“That’s a lovely side effect,” he cooed just before slamming the knife down on Mabel’s wrist, severing her hand. With a sickening plop, the appendage landed in the puddle of blood. Her screams filled the claustrophobic space.
“No,” Tabitha whimpered, the only sound her tight throat would make.
“You really shouldn’t torture her like that.” He tsked. “She deserves so much better, don’t you think? She colored her hair and changed her clothes to look like you, and you appreciate none of her efforts.”
“You colored her hair.”
“Details.” He waved the knife nonchalantly then held the blade poised over the middle of the same arm. “Say it.”
Tabitha shook her head.
The knife plunged.
Mabel screamed, more alert than Tabitha’d ever seen her.
“H-how…?” What Tabitha wanted to ask but couldn’t was…shouldn’t Mabel be passed out by now? How could she still be awake with so much pain?
The psychopath seemed to understand because he smiled. “She’ll stay awake and alert for everything. Wouldn’t want her to miss the grand finale.”
“Ta-ta-tabita,” Mabel cried, each syllable ending on a sob. “Plea…”
Tears cascaded down Tabitha’s face as she felt the words building in her belly. “Mabel, I can’t. Please don’t ask me to.”
He moved the knife over to Mabel’s other wrist.
The horrified woman’s eyes were locked on Tabitha’s. Her mouth worked, and she finally managed to form a word that made sense. “Love me,” she pleaded, her request stronger now. “Please.”
Tabitha knew what she was asking. The knife glinted, distorted by her tears.
“I love you too,” Tabitha said on a strangled sob, her chest squeezing so hard it was difficult to breathe let alone speak. “Please forgive me.”
The man’s smile was villainous, his glee rabid. “Is she going to say it, sweet Mabel? Is she going to say it and save you from this horror?”
Tabitha took a breath, then another. Her heart was pounding, but she couldn’t force herself to speak the words that would release her friend from this misery. She needed to close her
eyes. She didn’t want to see Mabel’s face when she said it. She couldn’t live with that memory. But her eyes wouldn’t close, no matter how hard she tried.
With Tabitha’s heartbeat and breathing so loud they seemed to bounce around the room, she finally choked out the words he wanted to hear. “Die. Bitch. Die.”
Another obscene giggle, and his arm swung wide.
Desperate, Tabitha squeezed her eyes shut, and this time, the lids closed together.
Mabel’s screams went silent.
Over the pounding of her heart, the only sound she could hear was a heavy, wet thud.
Tabitha’s eyeballs rolled back in her head as she realized what he’d done.
“Do you want to see her?” he taunted. “It’s a trip. Her neck is bleeding. I bet her heart is still beating. I wonder if she can see you from down there on the floor.”
“I did it.” She turned as far to the side as her bindings would allow, squeezing her eyelids tight so she wouldn’t be tempted to look. Why did she want to look? “What more do you want from me?”
“Oh Tabitha of the ugliest name in the world, we aren’t quite done.”
“W-why,” the word hiccupped from her throat, “are you doing this?”
“So I could record it. Share it. Do you know what a snuff film is?”
“No.” She sniffled, focusing on his words rather than the horror that would be right before her eyes should she open them.
“It’s the final moments of someone’s life captured for all eternity. So beautiful. So powerful. This day will be replayed millions of times. You’ll be famous.”
