Shades of Temptation

by Virna DePaul

  She remained silent, which he didn’t appear to like.

  “Oh, come on. You have to admit, it was clever of me. Once I knew what he was doing, I thought, why not try it myself? Afterward, I knew exactly why he’d been doing it. It gave me the beauty and the power of my victims. Can you imagine what an intoxicating rush that would be?”

  He lifted his hand, and for the first time Carrie noticed the knife he held. He watched her closely and began twirling it between his fingers. “My victims were beautiful and strong, but not strong enough. Nature took them out the way it’s supposed to be. To give way to the stronger and more beautiful of us.”

  She tested the ropes again, noting that they had very little give. He’d made sure she wouldn’t be able to escape. She couldn’t remain silent any longer. “So that’s how you justify killing Kelly Sorenson. Tammy Ryan. Tony Higgs. They deserved to die because they weren’t strong enough to live?”

  Walking up to her, he laid the cool flat of the blade against her cheek. Carrie refused to be cowed and continued to stare at him. He pressed harder and began to rub the flat surface in circles. “What do you think?”

  “I think you’re weak enough to kill others because it’s the only way you can feel powerful.”

  Fury glittered to life in Turner’s eyes. He raised the knife, and she waited for him to strike her in the face. The blow never came.

  Carrie heard something outside at the same time Turner did. They both turned their heads and watched as Jase Tyler limped down the basement stairs toward them.

  “Ah, Special Agent Tyler. Right on time,” Turner said.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  JASE STRUGGLED TO KEEP his footing as he made his way down the stairs toward them. Immediately, he spotted the woman who looked a lot like Lana Hudson crumpled in the corner. Was she still alive? His stomach clenched at the memory of discovering Lana’s death. However, terror nearly overwhelmed him when he saw Carrie tied to a chair. He recognized the man from the college café immediately. Maybe in his early twenties. Tall, with light hair and an angelic face. He looked like the boy next door, except for the insane glint in his eyes. Seeing Jase seemed to stoke the fire there.

  Thank God he’d guessed correctly given Darwin’s vague reference to a crime scene, Jase thought. He’d immediately dismissed the places where they’d found Kelly Sorenson, Tony Higgs and Tammy Ryan; none were isolated or contained enough to give Darwin the advantage. So what crime scene had he been talking about? The more Jase had thought about it, the more Carrie’s theory about competing serial killers had made sense. After all, her televised ploy had brought Darwin out in the open. There’d been every reason to believe that Darwin had killed Bowers to get rid of the competition, which meant Bowers’s home was a crime scene and, hopefully, the one where he’d find Carrie.

  Just to be sure, however, he’d told Commander Stevens to keep the others away from all the known crime scenes.

  “You can’t go in alone, Jase,” Stevens had said. “You’re injured. You need backup. You don’t even know if he has Carrie. If she’s still alive—”

  “She’s alive,” Jase had snapped back. “And he has Carrie. She went to him alone in order to protect a life. And that’s why I’m going to him alone, too. To protect hers.”

  “You know I can’t let you—”

  Jase had almost fallen to his knees at that point. “I’ll beg if I have to, Commander. You know this is the only way. He’s played us at every turn. He sees you coming, and Carrie’s dead. I can’t—I won’t—let that happen. And you know we don’t have time to argue about this. Please.”

  “If I let you go in alone, you’re both dead,” the commander had replied, but in the end he’d done the only thing he could do. He’d given Jase an hour. After that, he was surrounding all the known crime scenes full force. Jase didn’t have much time left.

  It looked like everyone knew it, too.

  Darwin, aka Brad Turner, swiftly took position behind Carrie’s chair and held his knife to her throat. As soon as Jase stepped onto the basement’s tiled floor, Turner tensed, tightened his hold on Carrie’s hair and pierced her neck with the blade. Her face contorted with pain. A streak of red appeared and ran down her throat.

  Jase froze. “No. Stop!”

  Turner stared at him and laughed. “I knew it. I knew you’d make the right choice. I assume the police have given you some kind of deadline before they rush in? Call right now and tell them you’ve found her. Tell them you’re on your way to the hospital and for them to meet you there.”

  Jase’s gaze once again flickered to Carrie. “Listen to me,” Jase began. Instinctively, he took a step toward them. Again, Carrie flinched. Again, Jase froze. Again, a small stream of blood ran down her throat from where Turner cut her. Rage and panic bubbled inside of him, cutting off his breath and, combined with his recent blood loss from the shooting, making him feel perilously close to passing out.

  “I don’t want to hurt her, but you have what I need, Agent Tyler. You are what I need and if hurting her gets me what I need, I’ll do it.”

  Carefully, Jase pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and called Commander Stevens.

  “I’ve got her, sir. She’s okay. I’m driving her to the veterans hospital near Geary and 40th right now.”

  “Thank God. What about Darwin? Did you—”

  He hung up before the commander could say anything else.

  His cell immediately began to ring.

  “Silence it and then toss it over there,” Turner said, jerking his head to indicate the far corner of the room.

  Jase did as he said.

  “Now your weapon.” Of course he had one. Tucked into the back of his pants. But he couldn’t give it over. Not yet.

  “I don’t have one with me.”

  “Liar,” Turner screamed, spittle spraying from his mouth. “Take off your shirt. Now.”

  Jase unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off. It fluttered to the floor. He wasn’t wearing a holster, so at first he couldn’t understand why Darwin’s eyes widened.

  “You bastard. Your body. What did you do to your body? You’re scarred.”

  Turner’s hands were shaking now, jerking against Carrie’s throat, sprinkling cuts and nicks across the smooth surface that Jase had showered with kisses just two nights ago. She held herself still, trying to stay calm, but Jase could read the terror on her face. Jase prepared to lunge for Carrie, to try and knock her chair down, knowing that if he waited much longer the man would kill her anyway.

  Turner raised his hand from Carrie’s throat and slammed the knife handle into the side of her head. Jase could tell the blow dazed her. She blinked several times, trying to focus her vision.

  Jase wanted to kill him. Strangle him with his bare hands. He tried to move toward them, but Turner returned the knife to Carrie’s throat.

  Helplessness washed over him. He stared at Carrie, trying to gather strength from her presence. She needed him to be strong. To help her. But how was he going to get the bastard away from her?

  Turner continued to rant. “You’re worthless to me. I need someone perfect. Someone perfect, do you hear me?” He paused, looked down at Carrie again.

  Jase felt bile rise in his throat. Shook his head. “No.”

  Ignoring him, Turner grabbed Carrie’s chin and shoved it up for his inspection. He stretched her neck up, causing the wounds there to weep even more. Then he roughly pushed her away.

  He shook his head. “She’s pretty. Not beautiful. I need something more.”

  “Wait!” Carrie spoke this time, jarring him. “I’m perfect. A perfect shooter.”

  No. “Shut up, Carrie,” he growled.

  She kept talking. “I’m a sniper. Best of the best. I can shoot a dime from a hundred yards away. I won a gold medal in the Olympics.”

  Jase knew that it had been a silver medal, but Turner probably didn’t.

  “Plus I’m strong. I’m probably even stronger than you. What do you think of that?” />
  Turner looked down at her. “You’re bullshitting me.” But Jase could tell her boasting had caught his attention.

  “I’m not.”

  Jase felt dizzy and closed his eyes, trying to get back his equilibrium. When he opened them, Turner was grinning. “How are you feeling, Jase? You’re not looking good at all.”

  He swayed on his feet. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold on. Bracing an arm against a wall, he steadied himself. “You don’t want to hurt her, Brad. You hurt her, and the whole police force will be after you.”

  Turner laughed. “Like they aren’t already? Come on, Tyler. I’m not a fool. Give me the gun.”

  When Turner moved the knife threateningly close to Carrie’s eyes, Jase reached into the back of his back waistband and pulled out his gun.

  Turner smiled. “Nice and easy. That’s right. Kick it toward me. Now, Tyler. Or she’s dead.”

  Jase put the gun on the ground and kicked it toward Turner. It stopped about two feet away. His muscles bunched in anticipation. When Turner leaned down to pick it up, Jase lunged toward him.

  * * *

  CARRIE SCREAMED when she saw Jase rush Turner. She’d seen the way Turner had smiled and kept an eye on Jase. Knew that he’d laid a trap for him. Like her, he had known that Jase wouldn’t go down without a fight. Even as weak as he was, even as hopeless as things seemed, Jase wouldn’t give up. He’d die first.

  Even as she had the thought, she saw Turner pivot to meet Jase’s tackle. Saw the way he lifted the knife and held it aloft so that it would meet Jase’s forward momentum. Saw the blade sink into Jase’s torso with sickening ease.

  Someone was screaming. Crying. Howling Jase’s name in grief and rage. It was her. She stopped. Watched Turner rise and pull his knife back. The blade was covered with a shimmery layer of blood.

  Jase fell to the ground. He shifted and tried to move, grabbing the bottom of Turner’s leg to pull himself up. Turner tsked. “Give up, man. You’re going to lose.” He kicked Jase in the face and then stomped on his bad leg. Jase moaned and then went still.

  He shook his head in disgust. “Weak. I don’t know why I ever thought he was perfect.”

  Carrie was crying again, throwing her weight around in her chair, trying to get loose so she could kill him. “You bastard. I’m going to kill you. You bastard.” She repeated the words over and over again, the whole time looking at Jase, who no longer moved.

  Turner picked up Jase’s gun. He opened the barrel, apparently satisfied when he saw it was loaded. He flicked it shut and grinned at her.

  “Is that so? I didn’t know he meant so much to you. You said you could shoot a dime from a hundred yards away? Prove it to me. All you have to do is shoot something.” Keeping Jase’s gun trained on her, he loosened the bindings on her feet, not completely, but just enough that she’d be able to work her way out of them. He looked around, grinned then crouched down next to Maria Nelson’s unconscious form and put something small on her shoulder. Something so small Carrie couldn’t even see what it was.

  Rising, he once again stood directly next to her. He motioned to Carrie with the gun. “Work yourself loose. You’re going to stand on that side of the room and shoot that fragment of glass from her shoulder. You do that. You prove to me how perfect you are. And I’ll let him go. I’ll let both of them go. I promise.”

  She calmed at his words and sat absolutely still. This was it. This was her chance.

  It took her five minutes to work her feet free. Stumbling to her feet with her hands still tied, she shot a quick glance at Jase. Blood pooled from beneath his body, and she prayed he was still alive.

  As Turner followed, she moved to the side of the room he directed her to. Then she waited for him to untie her and hand her his gun. When he didn’t, she frowned. “Well? Are you going to untie me? And I need something to shoot with, don’t I?”

  “The rifle from your car,” he said, gesturing with his chin. She turned and saw her sniper rifle leaning against some cabinets. Seeing the rifle gave her strength. She gathered her fear for Jase and bundled it inside her heart, knowing that it would overwhelm her if she let it. Right now, she needed to focus on Turner.

  She’d kill Turner. She’d save Maria Nelson. And she’d save Jase. And if she failed? Well, only then would she let the grief out. Let the grief consume her and swallow her whole. And take her to a place where she’d never feel pain again.

  * * *

  AT FIRST, JASE THOUGHT he was being eaten alive. That a thousand carnivorous bugs were crawling on him and feasting on his body. He struggled to get away from them and forced himself to open his eyes. The world came into slow focus, and he could barely make out Carrie standing with Turner across the room from him. He saw the vacant chair in which she’d been sitting and various lengths of rope lying nearby.

  Why wasn’t she trying to overpower him? What was going on? Because he didn’t know, he remained quiet. Quiet but watchful. He did everything he could to fight off the pain, sharp razors that sliced through his leg. His vision wavered, and he feared he was going to pass out again.

  No! Gritting his teeth, he took several deep, silent breaths. No. He could hang on.

  Remember what you told Carrie. Rowing and sports aren’t just about strength. They’re about creativity. Upward motion. Overcoming your fears. Stamina.

  He pictured Carrie as she’d been that night at the restaurant. A little tipsy on wine. More open than he’d ever seen her.

  You’re certainly strong, she’d said to him.

  And he was. Strong enough to push back the approaching darkness.

  Carrie would make her move. When she did, Jase would be ready.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CARRIE WAITED AS Turner sawed through the ropes binding her hands, taking care to keep the muzzle of the gun pressed directly to her scalp. Sharp pain danced through her hands as blood rushed to her fingers. She shook them out. He handed her the rifle.

  “I need a second. My hands are numb.”

  He hit the back of her head with Jase’s gun, and she choked back her instinctive gasp of pain.

  “You have one shot,” he snapped. “Do it now.”

  Carrie lifted the scope of her rifle to her eye and focused it on the fragment of glass on Maria Nelson’s shoulder. It was the exact size of a dime, she thought with grim fascination. The bastard had taken her literally.

  She took several deep breaths and gathered her strength. She tried not to think of Jase, bleeding and dying, if not already dead. Once she fired, Turner would look to see if she’d hit her target. That would give her a second, maybe two, to catch him off guard.

  Carrie took another calming breath and focused. Focused on the small object that wasn’t more than fifty feet away. Focused on the feel of the rifle in her hands. Focused. And squeezed the trigger.

  Nothing. Nothing happened. She squeezed again. Still nothing.

  Understanding and then horror overtook her.

  Her rifle didn’t have any bullets.

  * * *

  BEHIND HER, TURNER LAUGHED. “You really thought I’d be stupid enough to give you a loaded gun? But, shit, you’re gutsy. You really could have done it, couldn’t you? Perfect.”

  He leaned down and kissed her ear. She didn’t even pull away. He’d won. He’d kill her. Then Jase. Then Maria Nelson. Three for the price of one.

  A rush of movement, then Turner was off her. She twirled and saw Jase.

  The two men struggled, their bodies flaying back and forth as each tried to topple the other. Carrie ran toward them, ready to bludgeon Turner with her rifle. But their bodies were a writhing swirl of movement, practically indistinguishable. She saw Jase’s gun lying close by and scrambled toward it, praying that Jase could hold on just a couple of seconds longer. She grabbed his gun and turned. Ready to fire.

  Only she couldn’t. Turner had Jase in front of him, using him as cover as he held the knife to his throat. Unwanted images swirled through her head. Images of Kelly
Sorenson, Tammy Ryan and Tony Higgs’s bloody remains. The way Kelly’s roommate and Nora Lopez had wept upon learning those they loved were dead. Carrie had watched with compassion but an emotional detachment necessary to do her job. Now she was forced to watch as a madman held a knife to the throat of someone she loved.

  Anxiety. Fear. Panic. The emotions hit her in the face with the force of a heavyweight champ landing a knockout punch. Her breath spiraled out of control, and she feared she was going to faint.

  She took in a deep breath. Then another. She could do this. Suck it up, she told herself. Focus on what she needed to do.

  She needed to keep Turner talking.

  Talking was a distraction. Plus, he had a habit of gesturing with his knife hand to make his points. The movement was subtle, but it could be enough to give her an opening.

  If Jase was strong enough to help her.

  She stared into Jase’s eyes, communicating her belief in him. Hold on, Jase. Just a little longer. Hold on.

  Injecting a tone of command in her voice, she aimed her gun. “Drop your weapon.”

  For a moment, Turner looked nervous. Then he started to laugh. “Drop my weapon? I don’t think so. I, unlike you, have a hostage. I think dropping yours sounds like a better suggestion, don’t you?”

  Again, panic threatened to overwhelm her. She’d frozen the first time she’d tried to shoot Kevin Porter. What if she froze now? What if she failed? What if Jase died because of her?

  She looked at Jase. He wobbled on his feet, barely able to stand. Blood covered his shirt, and she knew he wouldn’t last much longer. He’d die if they didn’t get help soon.

  And she’d die, too.

  She knew that. Even if she managed to kill Turner. Even if she physically survived. If Jase died, Carrie wouldn’t be able to go on. That couldn’t happen.