by Kate Morris
She pointed to a spot in the other corner where chains were coming out of the wall.
“We know, honey,” he said comfortingly. “Let’s go.”
He helped her rise, her legs very weak. She wasn’t wearing anything but a thin, see-through tank top and panties. Jack whipped off his jacket and wrapped her in it. She was tall, but it still came to her knees.
“I’ll lead,” Lorena said.
Jack helped Hailee along on her tired, spindly legs, and Lorena led the way up the stairs. Hailee was malnourished, weak, probably dehydrated and a little sick, but at least she was alive. They made it out of the smoke-filled log mansion and out into the driveway again. Sirens at the top of the hill alerted them to the fact that the feds were finally there and possibly the fire department. That was good. They needed to salvage the evidence he’d obviously planned to destroy. Lorena figured the vault room was to keep his family out, but he’d left it open tonight to kill Hailee with smoke inhalation. She had no doubt that they interrupted him and that he had not intended to allow smoke to kill her. He would be angry that he didn’t get to kill this one last girl, his grandest prize yet.
“He’s still here!” Hailee whispered frantically. “Please, you gotta get us outta here. We’re not safe.”
“See those cars up there, Hailee? Go, run for it. They are with the FBI. We’ve been looking for you non-stop,” Jack told her. “Go now. We’re going after him.”
Jack quickly dialed Craig’s number and let him know that Hailee was coming up the hill. He said he was still a few minutes away but that he’d relay that to his agents, who were, indeed, on the scene.
Lorena felt bad because the girl was barefoot, but Jack was right. She needed to get to safety and out of the area if he was still on the premises. They had multiple outbuildings and many acres of property to search. She saw at least one barn past the house down by the lake when they’d walked down the steep hill from their car. Smoke was also coming from another area that she couldn’t see. Once Hailee was safely headed up the hill, Lorena indicated that they should split up. Jack agreed and went to the left of the house. Lorena went right.
She kept moving at a fast pace but with caution and a lot of nerves. When she reached the end of the house, she peeked around the corner. Seeing nothing, she jogged further until she came to a long metal pole barn with a red metal roof that matched the house’s. Lorena went in through the man door instead of pulling the long, tall sliding door open. There was a tractor with a mower deck attached to the back. Sleds and skis hung on hooks on the walls. A noise at the other end of the barn caused her to jump. Lorena rushed there with caution, checking dark corners and around different pieces of equipment; a log splitter and chipper. There was also a small backhoe and a relatively new tractor with a front-end loader, which they probably used to clear snow from the driveway in the winter. For a doctor, he sure seemed familiar with farm equipment. Of course, he’d grown up on a farm with his parents until his father had murdered his mother. She wondered as she inched closer to the source of the noise if he ever used the tractors to bury his victims somewhere on the mass square footage of his property.
She could see a faint flicker of light coming through an open door in the rear, right corner of the barn. She peered through it and found a small shed burning bright, the blaze so intensely hot and nearly too brilliant to look at. There must’ve been a lot of evidence inside for him to have wanted to torch it, as well. Lorena crept outside again into the rainy, foggy night. Maybe the rain would help put out the fires faster and aid the fire department. She stood a moment listening. Then she heard the snap of a twig underfoot probably twenty yards from her in the woods.
She took off toward the sound. Ahead of her was a trail, so she followed it at a jog, her pistol out front. She could just make out the bobbing of a flashlight’s beam. It had to be him. Jack had more buildings to clear than her. She wished they had radios with them, but the best she had was a flashlight, which she didn’t dare turn on and spotlight herself.
Martin was fast, faster than her. He pulled away, putting a lot of distance between them. Lorena sped up. Then she lost sight of his flashlight’s silvery beam and paused. The rain was letting up to an annoying mist. Her hair was soaked and dripping down onto her forehead and cheeks. She rested against a tree and decided to call him again.
“Little Lorena, am I tiring you out?”
“Dr. Martin,” she said, slightly panting. “Just turn yourself in, sir. There’s nowhere you can hide. The feds are here now, too. The fire department’s here, too. It’s over. In a few minutes, the place will be teaming with investigators and helicopters with searchlights.”
“It’s never over, dear,” he said, his voice suddenly more malevolent and threatening than it had been at the clinic. He’d had such a soothing, tenor quality to his voice then. Now, he sounded very baritone and cruel. “Do you really think I wouldn’t have a plan for all of this?”
Another explosion, farther back near the house rocked the night air. Then another, followed by two more. He must’ve rigged the whole place to blow. They were probably diversions, but the fires would also destroy evidence if he was blowing up buildings. She just hoped Jack was still safe.
“Come and find me, Little Lorena,” he taunted. “You and I shall have great fun together.”
“Dr…”
He disconnected again.
“Damn,” Lorena swore to herself.
Up a steep incline at the top of a crest, she spotted the flashlight beam again and broke into a sprint. By the time she got to the top of the hill, her thighs were burning. Having been down with a cold had messed up her usual routines of working out. The run earlier had nearly done her in. Had she known she would be chasing him down all night, she would’ve skipped it.
She stopped, bent over with her hands on her knees to catch her breath and watched for the light at the same time. She didn’t see it. Lorena stood straight again and kept going at a walk, trying not to make a lot of noise.
Her eyes caught the light again, and she took off at a sprint. She was determined to bring him down. She dialed his number again and actually heard the phone ringing. Lorena stopped, skidded on the wet leaves and paused to listen. She quickly disconnected and redialed. She could also hear water gurgling somewhere, but she no longer heard the phone. She moved forward cautiously and scanned the area of dense trees and underbrush around her. Then she saw that tell-tale gray beam. It was coming from the bottom of a steep and treacherous ravine.
Lorena carefully navigated the hill. She slid once through a patch of slick mud and landed on her bottom.
“Damn it!” she whispered and jumped to her feet. Then she rushed down the hill more quickly, less cautiously.
She could hear water more clearly, even above the rain that was picking up in magnitude now and figured he was keeping to the stream to make his escape. As she approached the basin, Lorena dialed him again. If she could get his phone to ring, it would reveal his location better. She no longer saw the flashlight, but she knew he couldn’t have gotten that far ahead of her.
The last time she’d seen the beam, it had been near the water that was only twenty feet away. It was a rather wide river, too, and moving quickly. A sliver of the moon overhead broadcast its energy onto the water, causing it to glow a dark and menacing bluish-black tint. She crept along the tree line close to the water, although the trees were much less dense in this particular area, which was good because she’d spot his flashlight easier. But it was also a risk because he might locate her more easily, too. She wasn’t stupid. Martin was not the kind of man to go into a situation like this without a weapon of his own.
Then she heard it. The faint trill of a phone. She walked more carefully, keeping her weapon out in front of her. She followed the sounds until the phone went to voicemail. Then she paused and dialed it again. She let her ears lead her as the sound grew louder. She was moving farther and farther west following the river. Then the phone ringing became loud, with
in yards now. Lorena hid behind a tree and dialed it once more. It was close, very close.
She stepped out from behind her tree and walked in a more hunched over fashion with only the light of the crescent moon overhead to navigate the way for her. She came into a slight clearing, maybe twelve feet in diameter and saw the phone lying on the ground. Damn!
A branch behind her snapped, and she swung but was too late to stop the man from knocking her hand away, which caused her to drop her weapon. It was him, Dr. Rudolph Martin, brilliant, gifted doctor, devoted husband and father, mass serial murderer of young women, and little boy who helped bury his mother’s body.
He clenched her shoulders in his grasp and effectively dodged her knee strike.
“Little Lorena,” he said with a sickening smile.
He didn’t look like the man she’d met at the free clinic or the man she’d observed in family pictures at his house in the city. She was staring up into not kind and smiling eyes, but the eyes of a madman. The thick, oversized and outdated eyeglasses were gone, which left her to speculate that he didn’t need them at all and had only worn them to disguise himself as being a far-sighted old man. Gone were the slightly stooped shoulders and the paunch that his white doctor’s overcoat had provided. He was wearing black cargo pants with pockets and had strapped to his thigh a hunting knife. On his head was a black stocking cap that concealed the salt-and-pepper of his hair. His broad, thick, muscular torso was covered with a black, button-down, thermal henley. He was no longer someone’s friendly, neighborhood dentist, all smiles and kindness. His eyes were mad with bloodlust, anger, and evil. She was sure it was all aimed at her, too.
Lorena yanked back, but he caught her by her right, upper arm and pulled her toward him. She struck with her left, but he smacked it down. He simultaneously released her arm and swung directly at her, connecting with the side of her face with his fist. It knocked her to the ground. Lorena hit hard, landing in mud and water puddles and leaves. She may have met her match in this man. She took a lot of classes in mixed martial arts, but he was strong, decisive and well-trained, too.
She swiftly crawled on all fours a few feet away to escape him. Then he kicked at her, and Lorena rolled quickly, avoiding his foot. She jumped to her feet again and scanned the ground for her gun. She couldn’t find it. Dr. Martin wasn’t going to give her a chance, either. He came straight at her, and Lorena had to brace for another attack.
He wrapped his arms around her middle and took them both down. The mud made him slip at the last second, and they slid and then rolled a few feet down another hill. At least it separated her from him again. Lorena sprang to her feet again and attempted to rush back up the hill to her weapon. However, Martin anticipated it and grabbed her leg as she tried to speed past him. His large hand encompassed her entire calf, and he pulled her down to her stomach with one, swift yank.
She cried out as her shirt came up and sticks scraped her bare stomach. In one lightning fast motion, he had her pinned underneath him and her hands secured above her head.
“Little, Little Lorena,” he mocked. “You really thought you’d be a match for me?”
“It’s over, Dr. Martin,” she spat angrily.
“This is far from over, Little Lorena.”
“The feds are here. They were right behind me. You only have seconds,” she warned, lied. Lorena hoped it wasn’t entirely a lie because she really didn’t want him to have enough time to choke her to death.
“We would’ve had such fun, you and I,” he promised and used one hand to wipe the mud from the side of her face.
“My partner is only seconds behind me, sir,” she said.
“Detective Jack Foster? No, my sweet, he was in the shed with the other agents when I set off that charge. He’s not coming to save you, and neither are the special agents.”
Lorena felt a moment of pure panic and lurched upright. Then she kicked at his back, kneed at his sides. Everything she did was ineffectual. He even laughed at one point. Lorena weighed around a hundred and twenty. Martin was almost double her size.
“We have all night, my dear,” he said.
Then he yanked at her turtleneck until it ripped open down the front. Lorena was able to bring one hand down and shoved at his face, scratched with her nails. He backhanded her for it and re-secured her hand.
“Nice,” he said as he fondled her through her bra. “I hadn’t expected this. Some surprises are good ones.”
She had to get out of this. “Like when your father killed your mother?”
“Tsk, tsk,” he taunted. “That was hardly a surprise. My father was an abusive, possessive alcoholic, dear. It wasn’t a surprise to me.”
“But you helped him bury your own mother’s body. Did he abuse you, too? Physically? Sexually, too?”
He laughed, an insane sound. “Not even close, Little Lorena. My father had a penchant for whores, dear. The unclean, dirty street-walkers in the big city. Sometimes he’d even take me with him when he went for a quick blowjob in the city. I’d have to stand outside the truck while he got his dick sucked by a dirty, filthy whore.”
Lorena couldn’t even imagine how sickening, how disgusting and horrifying that would’ve been to a young boy.
“Then why?”
“You know why,” he said. “You’re one of the best detectives in the country, or so I’ve read. You know why we do this.”
She did, too. He was right. There was no answer as to why men became serial murderers, why they chose victims at random but again not at random because their choices made sense to them, only to them. They didn’t even know why they did it, but they also couldn’t stop. She tried a different tactic as he ground his hips into hers. Dear God, had he just popped a Viagra? How could he possibly be thinking about raping her when an entire team of FBI agents was swarming the grounds? Unless he really had killed them all in explosions.
“Was I right when I guessed that Allie Xiang got away?”
“That whore,” he swore, spittle flying out. “She clubbed me with her mug of water when my back was turned.”
“And that made you angry, angrier with her, which is why you killed her more violently,” Lorena stated. “How did she get the cuffs off?”
“I carried them in my pocket. I didn’t after that. It was a good lesson, though. The other girl I had at the time didn’t enjoy watching me have fun with Allie when I got her back.”
“You found her in the woods? Is that why she was so cut up?”
“Little bitch,” he said, remembering.
“Why Christof?” she asked, figuring if he was going to kill her, then at least she would die knowing some of these answers.
“Hailee told me about him. She told me lots of things. She trusted me. All of the young women who were my patients trusted me. I have that grandfatherly appeal to them. It certainly worked on you.”
“She told you Christof raped her?”
“Not in so many words, but she said enough for me to figure out that the man was a lecherous pervert. Why did your father kill your mother? Was she a whore, too?”
Lorena struggled to be free, free of his hands and his questions.
“Neither of our mothers were whores. Your father was psychotic. She was probably a nice woman.”
“No women are nice women, silly girl,” he said. Then his eyes changed. “Maybe you.”
“You have screwed up views about women because of the way your father was. Nobody can ever be that perfect woman for you, Doctor. People aren’t perfect. We’re all flawed.”
“Not all. Did I tell you that I found my mother’s tooth after she was killed?”
Lorena shook her head, trying to keep him talking.
“I did. After he killed her, my father assumed I’d be taking over the duties of housewife, cook, and maid. I did, too. It was that or get beaten with his belt again. So, one morning I was sweeping the kitchen floor and found her tooth. He must’ve hit her the day he killed her and knocked it out.”
“What did y
ou do with it, Dr. Martin?” she asked, not sure she wanted to know.
“I kept it. Still have it. Someday, when I’m done with you, I’ll place yours in a baby food jar next to hers.”
“No, you won’t,” Lorena argued, struggling.
“Did you live in foster care, too, Little Lorena? Ever have the foster dad sneak into your bedroom at night for a little cuddle time?”
She glared up at him.
“Putting yourself under the microscope of others isn’t fun, is it? Did you and your sister end up in the same foster family, or did they split you up? Was poor Little Lorena all alone, defenseless, helpless?”
“Why Hailee?”
“She was to be my master find. I have known her a long time. She’d come to me a few times before her family moved away. You see, her regular orthodontist was sick, cancer actually, and he’d sent a lot of his patients over to my practice when he was too sick to work. I knew her before they moved, and when they came back, she naturally wanted to continue seeing me. She was so perfect. And then you came along, Little Lorena.”
“Was?”
“She told me about that repugnant, little worm of a boyfriend she’d been hiding from her father. I realized she was no better than the others.”
“Who are you to judge? It’s not exactly like you’re perfect, Martin,” Lorena said, dropping his title on purpose. “You murder women, kill them after making them into the image of your dead mother.”
“On the contrary, Little Lorena,” he said, caressing the top of her breast through her torn shirt. “It is people like you and I who must judge the rest. They are not worthy of our high opinions. They are beneath us in every way.”
He shoved a knee between her legs and pushed his hips into hers. Lorena felt like she was going to vomit but held it in check.
“What is your worst nightmare?” he asked, his mouth inches from hers.
Lorena turned her head to the side. He leaned in closer and sniffed her neck. Then he whispered in her ear as a lover would.
