by S. T. Abby
We ride in relative silence back to the cabins, and Leonard deals with the calls from the hospital about us leaving too soon. No one argued leaving, considering it might have just been a matter of time before they took me out and made it look like an accident.
“Two per cabin. Take shifts staying awake,” Donny says, taking charge while I’m in and out of it, as we arrive at the cabin and start unloading from the SUV.
“I’ll stay with Lana and Logan,” Leonard inserts.
“I’ll stay with them,” Hadley argues.
Leonard points his finger at Hadley. “You stay with Elise. I’ll stay with them. Logan, sober, wouldn’t want you risking yourself, and as you pointed out, he’s the primary target.”
She starts to argue, but I cut her off. “Go with Elise,” I tell her.
She claps her lips shut, then looks to Lana. Something silent passes between them, and Hadley walks away, glaring at Leonard on her way by.
Leonard helps me inside, and Lana tries to help him. I force most of my weight onto Leonard.
“If he gets sick or starts talking funny, come find me immediately,” Leonard tells Lana as they put me to bed like a fucking baby.
“I will,” she says softly, her eyes distant as she runs her hand over my cheek.
“I’ll stay up until sunrise, then I’ll get some sleep. You stay in here with him, and yell if you need help.” He points at the windows in the room. “Two entry points from outside. Pay attention to them in case they get too bold. Don’t be afraid to use Logan’s gun.”
He puts my gun down on the nightstand, and Lana studies it.
She nods absently, her hand still on me, as though she needs reassurance I haven’t disappeared.
“Keep me updated if any new information comes to light,” I tell Leonard before he walks out.
Lana curls up against me, putting her arm around my waist. Leonard’s eyes drop to her as she slides her leg around me too. I have no idea why he finds her so fascinating tonight.
“I will. Tomorrow, anyway. Not tonight. Your head needs some rest.”
As soon as he shuts the door, Lana exhales heavily, and I pounce.
“I’m sorry you had to get entangled in all this again. I want you to go somewhere safe,” I tell her, kissing the top of her head as she snuggles in even closer.
“No,” she states simply. “I’m not leaving you.”
“You have to. If you—”
“Either I stay here with you, or I find somewhere else to stay in town. Your choice,” she says firmly, a hint of anger in her tone.
“Lana, I just want to keep—”
“There’s no such thing as safe, Logan,” she says on a soft breath. “No such thing.”
I’m too out of it to continue arguing, and my eyes shut without my permission. I’ll argue tomorrow.
Chapter 7
My life is a struggle.
—Voltaire
LANA
Leonard’s eyes are on me, just as they have been since last night. He watches me make two cups of coffee, and he watches me fix the cups with cream.
“You want a cup?” I ask the watcher.
“I’ve already made some, but thanks for the offer.”
At first I thought he was suspicious, then he left me alone in the room with Logan and also left me with a gun. Then I thought he was a perv, but he turned away abruptly when he walked in the room this morning to check on Logan and saw me in my panties.
So I don’t know why he’s watching.
Unless I’m just that fucking interesting.
“So you and Logan are pretty serious, yeah?” he asks, lifting the cup of coffee he’s drinking. I’m not sure why he’s not crashing. The sun has just peeked out, and he’s been up all night.
“I think so. At least, I’m serious.”
“You don’t think he is?”
I need to learn when to shut up.
“I think he is,” I say with a tight smile as I turn to face Mr. Watch Me.
He runs a finger over his lips in a pensive manner. “Any family in the DC area?”
I shake my head and return to my task, stirring both coffees.
“Any family at all?”
I shake my head again.
“This is making you uncomfortable, isn’t it?”
“No. As an extremely private person, I love talking to a stranger about my past first thing in the morning after my boyfriend was attacked in a town full of weak and evil people,” I state dryly, holding his gaze.
His eyes widen marginally. “Sorry. Just making conversation. None of us have great conversational skills. Occupational hazard.”
I shrug it off. “Logan was the same when we first met.”
“He stopped pressing for your past? As I said, it’s an occupational hazard.”
Have I mentioned I hate nosy people?
“I told him the important parts. Not everyone enjoys talking about the past,” I say with another shrug. “I’ve told him more than anyone in years. But he doesn’t push for more than I give. It’s one of the things I love about him.”
We stare each other for several uncomfortable minutes. I’m not sure what he’s trying to see.
“Hey.” Logan’s voice has us both jerking our heads to the bedroom doorway where he’s shirtless and moving toward me. His eyes flick to Leonard. “Anything happen while we were out?”
Leonard shakes his head. “All was ghost-town quiet. The sheriff is standing by his promise that Hollis was a bad seed who acted alone, and that he has no idea what set him off. Johnson says he’s already vetted the rest of the guys, ensuring us none of them are hostile toward our team.” Leonard rolls his eyes.
“Amazing. He managed to vet over twenty other deputies since last night, not to mention an extra five police officers,” Logan says with no emotion, but a definite suspicious lilt.
“This is the most fucked up shit I’ve been involved in,” Leonard says, his jaw ticking.
“Leave Donny with Lisa today. You ride with me. I’m going to go find Carl Burrows today and get some answers about Robert Evans.”
The glass in my hand almost slips, and I curse as coffee sloshes over, scalding my fingers.
Logan grabs some paper towels, and he brings my wounded hand to his face, inspecting it. I feel Leonard’s eyes on us, but I ignore it. I don’t know or care what his defect is.
Discreetly, I fire off a quick text to Jake—one-handed and without looking at my phone.
My heart almost thudded out of my chest as I raced through the town last night, running faster than I ever have. When I saw Hollis training Logan’s own gun on him, something inside me snapped. The killer came out and reveled in spilling his blood even more than I enjoyed killing Lawrence and Tyler.
If Logan hadn’t been hurt, I would have dragged the kill out for days.
“Haunted House is tonight in town,” Leonard says randomly as Logan kisses my fingers where the coffee burn has already ebbed.
“And?” Logan asks, looking over.
“And Kyle Davenport will be there. Says he ‘ain’t missing the only good thing in this fucking town because of some cowardly piece of shit killer.’ His words.”
Leonard shrugs, his eyes now not on me for a change.
I knew Kyle wouldn’t miss the Haunted House. He always takes a girl in there—whether she wants to be there or not—and fucks her in a corner to the sound of screams that get him off.
He’s sick like that. It’s one of the things that should have given him away long ago, but I didn’t see it until it was too late and I was a victim. People just walk by him while he’s hurting someone, thinking it’s all part of the ‘adult’ show of the Haunted House. It’s the ‘Sin House’ after all. It’s set up to show all the sins in the dark, demented world just outside the lines of Delaney Grove.
They condition kids to be afraid of leaving early on. The adult house is for sixteen and older, terrifying the impressionable minds from early on isn’t enough. They need to get the rebelli
ous teens submitting to the terror tenfold, upping the Haunted House to be over-the-top. Rape scenes are even played out. Sometimes they were real.
Lindy was raped in the Haunted House.
Speaking of Lindy, Antonio is already bankrupt, which was faster than promised. She’ll be happy to know he’s currently losing all his possessions. His car was taken away just yesterday. I got to watch it live on my phone.
The man who called his wife a whore, even though he knew all Kyle was saying was a lie, is finally getting his piece of justice pie. He just wanted to continue to be a ‘highly respected’ patron of this town, and he cast his wife aside to suffer alone.
Now it’s just a waiting game of making his life miserable enough to kill himself.
“He’s a stupid fuck,” Logan mumbles, running his lips over my forehead. It takes me a second to realize he’s talking about Kyle.
“I agree. But the sheriff is sending four deputies with him. Just letting you know,” Leonard says, but his eyes shift to me for an eerily long second.
I ignore his eyes like I have all morning.
Four deputies? Only two will go in with him. Those can be easily dispatched—well, as long as those two are on my kill list. So far, there’s only one deputy who is innocent of the crimes committed ten years ago, and then the two dispatch officers.
The other two deputies will be outside, watching for any suspicious man. They’ll never know.
“Grab some sleep. We’ll go see Carl when you’ve had some rest,” Logan tells Leonard, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“I’ll only need about three hours,” Leonard grunts as he stands.
While he’s leaving us, I study Logan’s temple where he has four stitches.
Logan doesn’t say anything else before his lips come down on mine, surprising me with an intense, deep, bone-crumbling kiss. I lean into him as he lifts me up, putting me on the counter. When he steps in between my legs, I spread them wider in invitation.
Someone knocks on the door, and our kiss is broken, leaving both of us panting as I put my forehead on his chest.
“Yeah?” Logan calls out, staying put where he is.
“Just making sure you’re okay,” Lisa says through the door. “I have coffee if you want to unlock the door.”
She really wants to be cut.
“I’ve got coffee, and I’m fine. Thanks,” Logan says shortly before kissing me again, pulling me to him by my hips.
I break the kiss as Lisa knocks again, but I ignore her calling his name.
“Are you really okay?” I ask him, ignoring the pang of panic for how close I was to being too late.
“Yes,” he says softly, brushing his lips over mine. “Go away, Lisa,” he adds louder.
She huffs loud enough to be heard, but Logan lifts me, carrying me to the bedroom again. Our room is right beside where Leonard is trying to sleep, so I aim for quiet when Logan puts me down on the bed.
I hiss out a breath when he starts tugging my shorts off me.
“Leonard is—”
“Already snoring by now. He sleeps like the dead, and won’t hear a thing.”
I grin against his lips when he kisses me again, and my shorts fall off my legs. I keep kissing him even as he basically tears my panties away. And our lips remain fused together when he finally thrusts in, taking me slowly, longingly, and reminding me how much I love him.
“I love you,” I whisper into the air so quietly that I don’t think he hears it.
I just hope our love is truly strong enough to conquer all.
Sweaty and breathless, he thrusts in over and over, and I claw his skin, holding onto him, needing every second of closeness I can drag out. Our lips clash, unable to find a rhythm for a smooth kiss, and he pumps his hips harder, hitting that spot inside me that sends me spiraling and has me calling out his name.
When his hips still, he nuzzles the side of my face, shuddering as he finds his own release.
“I love everything about you,” he says softly, brushing his lips over my jaw.
Grinning, I hurry to the bathroom to clean up, and he slaps my ass on my way. I’m slowly calming down now that he seems okay.
As I exit the bathroom, the faint music of a familiar song and the distinct voice of a too familiar woman hits me like a ton of bricks.
Hush, little baby, don’t say a word. Momma’s gonna buy you a mocking bird.
I turn the corner, looking in on the living room as Logan studies the TV, and tears fill my eyes as my heart plummets to my toes. My mother’s smiling face is on the screen. She’s happy, oblivious to the harsh future ahead.
I remember this night so clearly. She died before she could see how bad this town got.
And if that mocking bird don’t sing, Momma’s gonna buy you a diamond ring.
She pulls out a gaudy piece of costume jewelry that resembles a diamond ring, and hands it to the young girl at her side. The young girl with bright green eyes and a little tremor in her hand, because she’s on stage and scared. But the girl’s mother soothes her, cupping her chin, making the child focus only on her and not the audience.
And if that diamond ring don’t shine—
The video pauses, and my heart stutters in my chest as Logan swings his gaze to me.
“You okay?” he asks, studying me with a frown.
Clearing my throat, I nod. “Yeah,” I say hoarsely, hearing the strain in my tone. “Who’s that?”
I point to the frozen screen with my mother’s smiling face.
“Jasmine Evans. I’m trying to see anyone in the audience who might have been more enamored than anyone else, since the unsub is using this night to terrorize the town.”
He looks back at the screen, presses play, and I watch my mother sing to the young, innocent child I used to be. I’m smiling up at her on the screen now, no longer aware of all the eyes from the audience. She could do that—soothe me with just her eyes.
A tear trickles down my cheek when she bends, kissing my forehead in the old film. She was the best at this role. It was the same play every year, and my mother spent three of those years on that stage because people were entranced by her voice and emotion.
She should have been an actress and spread the same love and joy throughout the world with just her smile.
I used to want to be just like her.
Until them.
Until they ruined me and turned me into this.
The mirror still shows the same eyes, but all else is different. It’s like seeing a different person. A person who has devoted her life to real justice.
“The film just stays focused on her. I can’t seem to get a view of the audience,” Logan says, interrupting my thoughts as he fast-forwards through the footage of my better memories.
“No one could look away from her,” I say to myself, wiping a tear from my eye.
He doesn’t hear me, and I hold back the inner plea for him to watch the entire thing, to see how incredible my mother was. To get a glimpse of who I might have been.
But I simply bite my tongue when he ejects the DVD and puts in a new one. My stomach roils when I see the footage of my father’s trial replacing the sweet memories of my mother on the screen.
As he watches, I return to the bedroom. It’s like I told Hadley—the mind is just too fragile for some visual stimulants, and I know my limits.
Chapter 8
The secret to being a bore…is to tell everything.
—Voltaire
LOGAN
“Where’s Craig?” Leonard asks, breaking the silence in the car.
“Conveniently, the director called him to aid in a media thing upstate. Johnson is currently handling all media for this case.”
He mutters something under his breath before adding, “It’s pissing me off how obvious it is what they’re doing, yet no one is helping us stop it.”
“We just need evidence. We also need the entire story.”
“It’d be a lot easier to piece together this puzzle if our killer w
ould just spell it all out for us. It’s obvious he wants us to know the truth,” Leonard grumbles.
He’s been lost in thought for most of this trip.
“He wants us to figure out the truth for ourselves. He thinks we’ll be on his side, considering he’s been saving us.”
Leonard turns to face me. “Are you conflicted?”
I shake my head. “No. I understand what happened ten years ago was beyond fucked up, and I have no sympathy to the victims we’ve found so far, but playing judge, jury, and executioner is not excusable. I also know how these cases go. It starts off as revenge, individuals getting targeted. But it turns into a massacre when the unsub devolves rapidly, and anything at all that’s perceived as a threat is killed as collateral damage.”
He looks back out the window. He’s seen these cases too.
“What if this one was different?”
“What?” I ask, confused.
He faces me again. “There were rare cases where the revenge killers actually killed just those who had wronged them. No one else was caught in the crosshairs.”
“Very few,” I remind him. “And almost all end with a shootout between law enforcement and the unsub. Still can’t play judge, jury, and executioner, regardless.”
“Most all revenge seekers are seeking revenge for themselves. It’s what causes the psychotic break—being too close to the triggers when the emotions finally take over,” he goes on. “We profiled this unsub as being one to avenge for someone else. He could have separation and even be able to form attachments, unlike other revenge killers, since I doubt it’s a proxy killer who is suffering a delusional paradigm.”
I heave out a long, weary breath. “I get the confliction you’re dealing with. Especially in this case, given what we’ve already learned and now seen. But innocent people will die if we don’t stop him. No one has the right to take the law into their own hands,” I say calmly, even though a silent argument in my mind contests my own words.
He cuts his gaze away before replying, “They tried to get help. They tried to seek justice. They were denied.”
“They?” I ask curiously.
