by Kate Morris
“Tell me, or I’ll skin you alive, dearest.”
“I don’t have nightmares,” she lied.
He drew back and slapped her again. Lorena tasted blood this time.
“Tell me, or you’ll get something much worse next time.”
He drew back, and she flinched.
Fine! Stop!” she shouted angrily. “It’s the same one every time.”
“Good, this is called progress,” he said and pushed his hips against hers again as if the idea of her confessing her buried secrets turned him on even more. “Go on.”
“It’s the night my mother was killed,” she said, knowing he would figure it out if she lied again.
“Were you the one to discover her body?”
Loren closed her eyes tightly and willed this not to be happening. She became angry at her own helplessness and reared up again, trying to dislodge him.
“That’s alright, dearest,” he said. “You’ll have plenty of time to tell me later.”
“What?” she whispered.
“You’ll be going with me when I’m through with you in a minute. I have a nice little sedative in my pocket for you.”
Lorena struggled in earnest, her heels continuing to slip in the mud beneath her and making it difficult to move as he pulled a syringe from his pants and bit the cap between his teeth. Then he pulled it off, revealing the sharp point of the needle in the moonlight and spit the lid next to them in the mud. He laid the hypodermic in the leaves beside their heads.
“It’s a good thing you are small. I still have another mile to hike out of here to my other place where the car is waiting for us, sweetie,” he said as if they were on a first date.
Lorena had to think. She had to get out of this situation. She couldn’t afford to wait for help to come because it obviously wasn’t. His free hand was already working on the fastener of her pants.
“Why’d you kill Stephanie? She worked with you at the clinic. She was nice, trying to get her life together.”
“Stephanie was a whore like all the others. I offered that little bitch a full-time job at my clinic, and she was still a whore to the end.”
“What do you mean?”
“I went to the club many times where she worked. I saw that whore dancing around on stage for money.”
“How did she not recognize you?”
He huffed as if she were stupid. “Sunglasses. Ball cap. Not too hard. Sat in the back where nobody would notice me. Those are the kinds of places that people don’t want to be noticed, where men who are married are going to escape from notice. Everyone keeps to themselves.”
“But she was trying to get her life on track. You knew her. She worked with you…”
“I know that. But then she went right back to doing what she was meant to do.”
“I don’t understand, Dr. Martin.”
He squinted his keen blue eyes at her. “I followed her and those two men that night. Kyle Archibald. What a piece of shit. Soon, the feds will find him next up at his cabin at the bottom of his lake. Piece of shit.”
She inhaled. “You…you killed Archibald? When?”
“Last night for fun. Planted evidence there, too. That scumbag convinced Stephanie to suck his dick and his fat friend’s, too, for some easy cash. That’s why I dumped her there, right where she’d last been a whore for money. They got what they deserved, both of them.”
His eyes dropped to her breasts, and he ran his hand over one. It made Lorena want to vomit again. She had to get out of this.
“You’re smarter than most,” she said. “Not as smart as me, though.”
He paused what he was doing but only momentarily. “Oh, I think we both know that’s not true, Little Lorena. I graduated the top of my high school, college and medical school.”
“You’re a dentist, not a brain surgeon,” she said, insulting him, earning his wrath, which he took out on her by squeezing her right breast hard enough to leave a bruise. “But I did it. I broke the case. I figured it out. I figured you out. You haven’t figured me out, not at all. So, that means we’re not actually equal. I’m smarter than you. You didn’t get away with anything, not in the end. Everyone, including your family, will know what you’ve done. By tomorrow afternoon’s news reports, it will have gone international. Nobody will ever remember you as anything but the Tooth Fairy, that creepy old dentist who killed hookers in Portland.”
“Shut your mouth, bitch,” he swore, spittle hitting her in the face.
“My I.Q. is higher. I bet you were lying when you said you have one, too. I am smarter than you. You aren’t my equal. You’re actually beneath me.”
His breathing accelerated, and Martin glared down at her with brewing hatred.
“Get off of me!” she screamed at him. “Get off! You don’t deserve me! I’m the one who is above you.”
“You are not, bitch,” he stated angrily.
“But I am,” she said. “I lied to you continuously in my messages, and you never even knew!”
He gasped, veins popped out in his forehead from strain, and his eyes changed, became intensely blue and something from another world altogether, something wicked and purely evil.
“And Hailee’s free. She’s going to verify everything to the feds.”
He looked a little surprised to hear of Hailee’s freedom. He obviously thought she would’ve died of smoke inhalation before Lorena and Jack got to her.
She kept pressing, “You’ll be famous all right. You’ll have fame, but not for your high I.Q. or your achievements. That was all a waste of time, really. Now, if you’re lucky and don’t get the death penalty, all you’ll be known for is the old man who teaches felons in prison how to read and write their A, B, C’s, the pitiful old man that’s doing slow time, who nobody believes his stories of how cool and how famous he was for being some badass serial killer of women.”
“That’s not true,” he hissed angrily.
“And I lied about the nightmare. I don’t have nightmares about anything. I sleep like a baby most nights because I know I put creeps like you away in prison to rot.”
He hauled back and slapped Lorena in the face. It stung, but she was too high on power over him to stop.
“Fucking around with your pretty-boy partner. Is that what you’re doing most nights instead of sleeping, you whore?”
She lied again and said, “Yes, and I’ve been with a lot of other men, too. You think I didn’t know you wanted to hear that I was an innocent, young woman? I’m not that innocent. No woman is. No woman could ever be your model of perfection or live up to your standards, you sick bastard. Rumor has it in your neighborhood that your wife is sleeping around, too. I played you every step of the way, you stupid old fool.”
His hands left hers above her head and jumped to her throat. It wasn’t exactly the plan she had in mind. Lorena struggled with him, fought in earnest. She clawed at the backs of his hands. She slugged at his face but was blocked by his shoulders. His eyes nearly glowed with excitement. The light of the moon began to dim, became hazy. Lorena clawed again at his face and hands and forearms to no avail. She tried to gouge his eyes, but he deflected her. Then suddenly he was off of her.
She rolled to her side and opened her eyes as she coughed and sputtered. She could see Jack on the ground also on his side. He must’ve planted a football-style hit to the side of Martin that took them both down. Lorena pulled her knees up under herself and pushed up on her hands. She looked at Jack just in time to see Martin draw a hidden gun from the back of his waistband in his pants.
“Fucking bitch!” he screamed in a rage.
Then she glanced frantically at Jack. She didn’t want him shot because of her. However, Jack also must’ve anticipated Martin’s response and drew and fired before Martin could even pull the trigger. She spun on her hands and knees in time to see Martin go down. He wasn’t aiming at Jack at all but at her. He had intended to kill her as his last statement on earth.
Jack rushed over, slipping on the saturat
ed ground. He knelt beside her, putting his arms beneath her armpits and hauling her up.
“You okay, partner?” he asked as Lorena touched her hand to her throat.
She tried to speak but couldn’t. She nodded instead. Then he left her and rushed over to Martin, who was lying in the rain, mud, and now his own blood. He was gut shot, and may not live from this wound. His gun was about ten feet from his head, and Jack went over and kicked it even further away. It was better not to handle evidence like that until others arrived on the scene. And from the sounds of shouting and the beams of many flashlights above them on the ridge, Lorena could tell help was on the way.
“You stupid little bitch,” Martin whined as he tried to apply pressure to his wound. “You’ll never be anything but the whore you are like all the others.”
“I’m not,” she said, her voice cracking.
He shot her an expression of confusion from his prone position in the mud.
“I lied again,” she admitted. “I lied just like you. I’m not a whore. I don’t sleep around. The only thing I told you that was true was that I am smarter than you.”
“Fucking…” he moaned with anger and pain. “I’ll skin you alive, bitch.”
“Not from prison you won’t, idiot,” Jack said next to her. Lorena looked up at him and grinned.
Jack stood guard on Martin until the feds took over. A helicopter in the distance drew closer. They would likely medivac him to the nearest trauma center for treatment. Part of her wanted him to die, but the other part wanted him to stand trial for what he’d done to so many of those women.
Jack helped her find her gun farther up the hill and promised to clean it for her when they got back to his houseboat. He also took off his hoodie and made her put it on. When she looked down, she remembered her ripped shirt and realized that her black bra and breasts barely concealed beneath it were on full display for everyone. She could already see bruises forming on her skin.
“Thanks,” she said and took the gray hoodie with a smile. It left him with just a long-sleeved tee, but he didn’t seem to mind.
He helped her up the hill, and when they were away from everyone else and back in the dark again, Lorena hugged him close.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner,” he said and stroked her back. “He blew up a goddamn building on us. I had to haul a couple of the agents outta’ there. Man, they’re messed up. On their way to hospitals now.”
She nodded against his chest, seeking comfort and warmth there. Everything on her was shaking. He just kept whispering soothing words to her and stroking her hair and back. Eventually, Lorena was able to calm down.
“I saw him, Jack,” she said, explaining. “I saw what he really looked like. I saw it up close, that evil inside of him.”
“Like Hailee said,” he confirmed with a nod.
Lorena nodded, too.
“Let’s take her and get out of here,” he said. “The paperwork can wait.”
He led her back to the burning home. The firefighters seemed to have a good grip on the situation, and it looked like they’d be able to put it out mostly before anything was destroyed. As they approached, the rain finally subsided completely. The skies opened up, the clouds receding in a temporary slumber, and for the first time since arriving in Portland, Lorena could see the stars.
Craig arrived a few minutes later and allowed them to leave. Jack took Hailee straight to Elizabeth’s hotel where she ran into her step-mother’s arms. He called Victor, who’d begun crying on the speakerphone. He was an abusive, controlling bastard, but he loved his daughter very much. Then they made sure Elizabeth got Hailee to the hospital where agents were waiting for them. Jack wanted Lorena seen by an E.R. physician, but she refused.
After that, Jack drove them home. He checked the houseboat thoroughly just in case Dr. Rudolph Martin had discovered their hideout and rigged it to explode. He hadn’t, and they went inside. Jack drew the blinds and locked the doors anyway. Then Lorena excused herself, went to the bathroom and stripped out of her muddy, drying clothing which landed in a crusty heap in the middle of the floor. She got in the shower and melted into the floor in another heap, this one of tears and uncontrollable shaking. Lorena was fried. This case had taken its toll on her physically and mentally. When she emerged, Jack was there again. The house smelled good like he’d cooked.
“Sit,” he ordered and indicated the stool at the kitchen peninsula.
He then treated her wounds. First, he disinfected the cut on her cheekbone, one she hadn’t known was there. She’d felt the bruising, though, when she’d washed in the shower. There was a lot of that, as well as cuts and scrapes, on her body tonight. She’d also spit a lot of blood in the shower.
“Son of a bitch,” he said as he looked at her. “Hope that bastard dies tonight for what he did to you.”
“He’ll probably live,” she stated calmly. “The real creeps always do, right?”
He chuffed with a grin, which made him look like a little boy and not the kind of man who’d just shot someone.
“You’re all kinds of bruised up, Evans,” he said. “Throat feeling okay? I wish you would’ve let them look at you. It’s pretty bruised already.”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just need to buy another turtleneck,” she said gravely.
“That’s what you’re worried about? You lost a turtleneck? Was it your favorite one or something?”
She smiled, then winced because it hurt to do so. “No, I don’t want Gracie to see.”
“Then, you might need a burka,” he said.
She grinned, then winced again. “Don’t make me smile!”
“Sorry, chief,” he said. “All very severe and serious comments from here on out.”
She rolled her eyes as he finished applying salve to her scratches and cuts.
“I got my ass kicked tonight,” she said. “I feel like such a loser.”
“That guy was a professional, Evans. He had as much experience at fighting people as me, and I was in the military. Don’t feel bad.”
She nodded, knowing he was trying to make her feel better.
“Just don’t get so far ahead of me next time, okay?” he requested.
“Sure,” she agreed with another nod.
Jack tossed the cream back into the first-aid kit and turned to go. Lorena grabbed his forearm.
“Thanks,” she said. “If it weren’t for you…”
“Partners, right?” he asked rhetorically.
She nodded and offered a grim smile. Then she winced.
“Stop trying to be all happy and smiley, Evans,” he teased. “Oh, and eat some pizza while I get my shower. I’ll be out in a minute. The food will help calm your nerves.”
“Thanks,” she said again as he left.
She didn’t eat, though. Lorena looked at herself in a mirror hanging on the wall in the living room near the door. She looked like crap. Her hair was still up in a towel, so she could see her face and neck very clearly. Her short-sleeved t-shirt exposed bruising on her arms and wrists. The bruises on her neck and face were the worst, though. She had no idea how she could possibly go home to Grace looking like this. These bruises and wounds would take at least a week to fade. She certainly wasn’t a makeup expert, either.
Lorena fetched a long black cardigan from her luggage and pulled it on to cover the bruises. Then she dried her hair and went back to the living room to wait for Jack. She didn’t want to eat without him. She turned on the television and immediately saw a breaking story about the Tooth Fairy killer. She pulled the warm, cashmere sweater tighter and took comfort in the solace it brought her knowing it used to belong to her sister.
Chapter Thirty
Jack
He didn’t sleep much last night. All he kept doing was replaying the scene down by the river when Dr. Rudolph Martin had been strangling Lorena to death. He very nearly had completed the task, too. If Jack had been just a few seconds longer in finding her, Lorena would be dead today. He’d be going to her funeral
in a few days and trying to explain to Grace why he’d failed to keep his promise to keep her safe.
They’d eaten pizza, and he’d forced her to drink a beer, hoping it would knock her out. Then he’d sealed the deal and made her take an ibuprofen to help with the swelling and pain of her wounds. It had done the trick. She was out cold on the sofa an hour after their midnight dinner. Every time he’d glanced over at her sleeping and saw the bruises on her neck and face and the ones he knew were hidden under the sweater, it had made him sick enough to want to vomit his food back up. He’d grabbed a few hours of sleep in the chair next to her, not wanting to leave her alone.
They were finishing the rest of their paperwork at the FBI headquarters and would be able to go home soon to Cleveland. They already gave full statements to Craig and his supervisor. The shooting was already ruled on as a necessary use of force. Jack hadn’t really cared what they ruled. He wasn’t about to let the asshole shoot and kill Lorena. Dr. Martin was in the intensive care unit of a local hospital receiving the best treatment they could offer. Jack wanted to go over and unplug any life support machines he was on. The man was one, sick bastard.
When they finished at the bureau, Jack drove them to the hospital to check on Hailee. He first drove through a donut shop’s drive-thru and ordered coffees and donuts. They were both drained. When Lorena had finally awakened this morning around nine, she’d cried out and sat straight up. Jack had been there but hadn’t acknowledged her reaction to whatever nightmare of which she’d been stuck inside. He had no doubt what it was truly about and didn’t want her to have to explain and relive it.
He parked them in the spot reserved for police officers near the E.R., and they took the elevator up to the third floor where they’d left her last night. Jack sipped his coffee and looked at his partner. She looked worse for the wear, but still alive. Today was unusual because she was wearing her hair down instead of in a ponytail or a braid. She also had on a full face of makeup to cover the bruises and cuts. It worked pretty well, but he knew what was concealed under there and it pissed him off. Her dark green turtleneck, he’d gone out this morning before she woke and purchased for her. She’d paired it with the long black cardigan she’d slept in last night. He didn’t question it. She was probably just cold or something. Her hair hung in gentle, dark waves down her back, and she coordinated her entire ensemble with dark blue-jeans and big sunglasses. She was wearing black high heels, too, which was unusual for Lorena. She looked even more like a sexy movie star than his ex-wife had, and that was saying a lot since Liz put a lot of time and effort into her appearance and Lorena didn’t put in any.
