by T. R. Ragan
“Don’t struggle, Madeline. You’ll only hurt yourself if you do.”
He’s here.
It had to be him. The same man who had been watching her, leaving her threatening notes, had somehow gotten inside her house. How had he tied her up? She was woozy. He must have drugged her somehow.
Oh, God. No.
He pressed his nose against her neck and sniffed like a dog.
“Stop,” she said, her voice muffled behind the tape.
“You smell so good. I have dreamed of this moment for a long time. When I first realized you deceived me, I wanted to kill you, Madeline. Do you understand?” He pushed her hair back from her face and pressed his lips to her forehead.
She twisted and turned, tried to get him away from her, but he held her head to the pillow with one strong hand as he buried his nose in her hair and inhaled deeply, his breath hot against her scalp. “God, I don’t know what I feel more. Do I love you or do I hate you? I think there must be a very fine line between the two, don’t you think, Madeline?”
She struggled to get loose, squirmed against him, tried to get free.
With his lips pressed against her temple, he wrapped his fingers around her throat and began to squeeze, only slightly, just enough to let her know he could kill her if he wanted to. She pulled at the ropes. The rope around her left wrist felt loose. If she could free one hand, she could gouge his eyes.
The mattress dipped when he pushed himself to his feet. She heard soft footfalls as he walked around the bedroom. She wanted to talk to him, find out why he was doing this and convince him to think about what he was doing, but every word was muffled beneath the tape.
She stopped moving when she felt him hovering over her. He was touching her again, this time with the sharp tip of cold metal. She heard snipping as he began to cut her pajama top from her body. Oh, God. Please, no. Stop.
After he removed her top, she felt his breath close to her breasts. He smelled her again. He was a disgusting pig. He sat down on the edge of the mattress and it wasn’t long before she felt his bristly jaw against her face and neck.
“You’ve done this to yourself, Madeline, and soon everyone in Sacramento will know what you did.”
She arched upward, wriggled and bucked, anything to get him away from her. The more energy she used, though, the more difficult it was to breathe through her nose.
He pulled away.
She felt nauseous. How would she throw up, though? Her mouth was sealed. She commanded herself to calm down, to breathe evenly through her nose.
“Be still, Madeline.” The tips of his fingers brushed slowly over her arm. “I need to teach you a lesson. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. When you first told your listeners about some god-awful freak leaving you gifts, I wanted to be your hero. I wanted to help you in the same way you helped me after my wife betrayed me.”
She squirmed beneath his touch, relieved when she felt the mattress sag before he stood again.
He walked around the room. Drawers were opened and closed. She heard him leave the room and she prayed he’d left for good. Her heart plummeted when moments later he returned and the mattress sagged beneath his weight once more.
“You never should have lied to your listeners. We trusted you. I trusted you.”
She heard a crack in his voice, as if he was trying to stay calm but couldn’t hide his anger.
“The first time I heard your voice, I felt things I never felt before. For months now, I’ve wanted to meet you, talk to you, get to know you. I wanted to be part of your life, Madeline. But you’re just like every woman I’ve ever known. You’re all liars.”
She pulled at the ropes.
“Don’t worry. I’m still going to be a part of your life, Madeline. Just not in the same way I first envisioned.”
A few moments passed before he said, “Look at this.”
It sounded as if he were flipping through the pages of a book.
“Hmm. Interesting. Hey, Madeline, who’s Amber Olinger? How about Lennon Brooks? Does Megan Vos know what a lying sack of shit you are?”
Those were all names from her personal address book. She tried to shout at him, tried to get free, but he climbed on top of her. “Stop moving around so much, Dr. Blair. It’s not helping matters. All of your squirming about is only making me angry and I don’t think you want to piss me off any more than you already have. Do you?”
His breathing grew ragged as he rubbed against her like a dog in heat. With his full weight stretched out on top of her, she couldn’t move, could hardly breathe. She had no idea how much time passed before he climbed off her.
She inhaled deeply through her nose.
His fingers pulled at the corner of the tape across her mouth. “You get one chance, Madeline, to have your say. Scream and you die. Do you understand?”
She nodded, then sucked in a breath when the tape came off. “What have you done with David and Chris?”
“Ten points for Dr. Blair. I didn’t think you cared for anyone but yourself.”
“Where are they?”
“You act as if Chris Porter was your friend, and yet you didn’t report it to the police. If you had, it would have been in the paper or on the news.”
“Is he safe?”
“He’s at peace, Madeline.”
She choked back a sob. “What does that mean? What the hell have you done with him?”
None too gently, he slapped a new piece of tape over her mouth. “Everyone has a beginning and an end, remember? You’ll go through a grieving process. Perhaps you’ll even be inspired by your own mortality.”
He cracked his knuckles before adding, “Coping with loss is a personal journey. Allow yourself to feel pain and sadness. Do not resist these emotions, Madeline. I am here for you.”
Oh, God. He was repeating verbatim what she often told callers who were dealing with the death of a close friend or family member. The man was insane.
“I wish I could stay and have a good, long chat with you, but I must say goodbye for now, Sacramento. Until tomorrow.”
He began to cut off the rest of her pajamas, his fingertips brushing over the length of her as he removed her clothes. She couldn’t see him, but she could feel his gaze roaming over her.
A moment later, he lowered his mouth to her ear. “I want you to listen carefully. I’m telling you this for your own good. Do not call the police. If you do, they may decide to lock you behind bars. And I won’t be able to help you if you’re in prison, Madeline.” He pressed his mouth on top of hers and she was suddenly thankful for the tape covering her lips.
“You wanted a stalker and now you’ve got one.”
That was the last thing he said before she felt the prick of a needle in her arm.
CHAPTER 27
Jessica stood at the door to Hayley’s apartment and knocked three times. Hayley had left a message on her phone earlier, telling her she had some news about the drive-by shooter.
Hayley opened the door, then spun away and left her standing there like an idiot. She stepped inside and was greeted by a dog. “You have a dog?”
Hayley was in the kitchen. “It’s Lizzy’s. I’m giving him back to her as a wedding present. Come on, Dog,” Hayley called. “Time for dinner.”
The dog trotted their way. Leave it to Hayley to name the animal Dog. It was the mangiest-looking mutt Jessica had ever laid eyes on. Judging by the bald spots, facial scars, and limp, the poor thing looked to have been on the wrong end of a fight with a dozen raccoons. Its hair was wiry and coarse, but it looked as if someone had tried to brush it. The animal ran to Hayley, his nub for a tail moving back and forth to the beat of an invisible metronome.
Jessica looked around the apartment, surprised by the shabby-chic décor. An antique suitcase sat in one corner of the main room. Atop it was a glass jar filled with watches and broken timep
ieces. The round straw rug in the middle of the room was simple and beachy looking. A vintage green refrigerator and a scarred drop-leaf table with two chairs took up most of the small space in the kitchen. “I like your place.”
Hayley gave a subtle nod of acknowledgment before she put a bowl of food on the floor for the dog.
“I’ve been thinking about all the time we used to spend together,” Jessica said, hoping to break the tension between them. “I want you to know I’m sorry I didn’t call or come by after everything that happened. I should have—”
“There’s nothing for you to be sorry about,” Hayley interrupted without turning away from the sink. “I didn’t call you either.”
Fair enough, Jessica thought. She twiddled her thumbs on the couch for a while as she waited for Hayley to finish what she was doing in the kitchen. A laptop and a bunch of papers sat on the wooden chest in front of her. A stack of files and a printer were piled on the floor to her left. A photograph peeked out from beneath the laptop. Curious, she pulled the picture out and held in a gasp. It was Hayley’s mother. Dead. Murdered. Her bloodied corpse propped upright, an axe embedded in her skull. Unable to get her next breath, Jessica shoved the picture back under the laptop.
Knowing what had happened was one thing, but seeing it was something else altogether. It was a wonder Hayley managed to keep on going day after day, hour after hour. How often did she look at that photograph?
Jessica started at the sound of Hayley’s voice. She was pounding on the window and shouting to someone.
Hayley stalked across the room toward the door. “Fuck. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was gone before Jessica could ask her what was going on.
Jessica went to the window to see what had freaked Hayley out, but there was nothing but the driveway and an empty park across the street with more weeds than grass. Two minutes later, Hayley was back with a little boy in tow. The boy rushed over to the dog and scratched the animal’s back. Jessica found Hayley in her bedroom, fastening sheaths to her legs and snapping her knives into place. “How many of those things do you have?”
Ignoring her, Hayley grabbed her backpack and the Taser next to her bed.
“You keep a Taser next to your bed? Expecting a visitor?”
Once again, there was no response.
“Where are you going?”
Silence.
“You can’t leave me with that little boy,” Jessica told her. “I’m not good with kids.”
“You used to watch that little girl and her brother. Besides, you can’t be a worse caretaker than the boy’s dumber-than-fuck mother.”
Jessica had nothing to say to that.
“I have the name you wanted,” Hayley said as she gathered her things.
Jessica couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You actually got a member of the Franklin gang to talk to you?”
“You had any doubt?”
“How?”
“It’s not important.” Hayley positioned one strap of her backpack over her shoulder and wiggled her fingers. “Where’s my two thousand dollars?”
Jessica blew out some hot air and raised her arms. “I don’t have it on me. I never thought you’d get a name this quickly.”
“Wow, and here I thought you knew me better than most.”
“Give me the name,” Jessica said. “You know I’ll find a way to pay you.”
“Keep an eye on the kid until I get back. Then I’ll give you a name.”
Jessica followed her outside and watched her take the stairs two at a time. Damn her.
Back inside, Jessica realized she didn’t know the boy’s name, so she asked him.
He sat on the floor, petting the dog. He didn’t say a word and didn’t make eye contact. Jessica could take a hint.
There was no television in the place. She took a seat on the couch and grabbed the stack of papers next to Hayley’s laptop and began sifting through them. There were names and addresses, maps of streets and pictures of homes in at least six different states. There were pictures of men who looked like Brian, sent to Hayley all the way from Florida, Kentucky, and New York. One printed e-mail was from a man who said he and his wife saw Brian in Nepal. Instructions for where Hayley should send money were included if she wanted his exact location.
Stacks of e-mails had been printed. They were dated as early as three months after Hayley’s mother was murdered, all the way up to three days ago.
Jessica looked around and tried to picture Hayley sitting in the tiny one-bedroom apartment day after day, trying to find one man. What was she going to do when she found him?
There was a knock on the door, but before Jessica could get to her feet, Kitally walked inside. “Where’s Hayley?”
“She ran off in a hurry. I have no idea where she went to or when she’ll be back.”
“She’s getting my mom,” the boy said, his voice a smidgen above a whisper.
Kitally went to the kitchen. “Hey, Hudson. Do you know exactly where that would be?”
He shook his head.
Kitally didn’t bother asking the little boy any more questions. Instead, she walked back into the main room and plopped down on the couch next to Jessica. “Doing a little snooping?”
Jessica looked at the pile of papers in her lap and the picture of Brian in her hand and didn’t try to deny it. “Can you watch the boy until Hayley gets back?”
“Nope. Not a chance. So, tell me what it’s like working for the feds.”
“As soon as I know, I’ll give you a call.”
“Cool.”
Jessica rolled her eyes.
“Do you know if I got the job?”
“I haven’t heard, sorry.” A business card slipped out of the papers in her lap. Jessica picked it up. “A ten-thousand-dollar reward for information on Brian?”
“Yep. My dad has a few bucks. I figured we might as well put it to good use.”
“No wonder Hayley keeps a Taser next to her bed,” Jessica said. “Has she been passing these cards out to people?”
“I made those cards myself. We passed out thousands of them.”
Not good.
“Hayley’s ready for Brian and his thugs. She’s been stocking up on gadgets.”
“What do you mean by gadgets?”
“Weaponry,” Kitally said. “You wouldn’t believe the equipment and gear people sell on the Internet.”
“I can imagine.” Jessica gave Kitally the once-over. The girl appeared to have a loose tongue. Jessica decided to see how loose. “Hayley told me she found out the name of the shooter. Assuming you had something to do with that, you would know the name, too. What is it?”
Kitally raised a brow. “I didn’t realize she’d gotten a name.” She flopped back on the cushions. “After Wolf ordered his two biggest watchdogs to take Hayley to the back room, I didn’t think I’d ever see her again. Should’ve known better.” She grinned. “Taught me and everyone there not to underestimate her.”
Jessica felt queasy. “They didn’t do anything to her, did they?”
“Are you kidding me? Nobody walks through those doors without being properly initiated, but that girl kicked some ass.”
“Thank God.”
Now it was Kitally’s turn to give Jessica a long look. “You’re not so bad, are you?”
Jessica had no idea what she was talking about.
“Hayley is always talking about how uptight you were when the two of you worked together. She said you couldn’t walk into a strip club without turning all pasty white and looking like you might lose your last meal.”
Although Jessica couldn’t imagine Kitally and Hayley hanging out together, it was obvious Kitally had gotten more than a few good laughs at Jessica’s expense.
“I don’t mean to offend you,” Kitally went on, “it’s just that you don’t seem like
the pansy-ass she made you out to be.”
“No offense taken.” Jessica held up Brian’s picture. “So what’s the plan?”
“What do you mean?”
“What happens when she finds him?”
Kitally raised both arms in front of her, fingers entwined as if she were holding a pistol. And then she pulled an imaginary trigger.
“What a waste.”
Kitally frowned. “Why do you say that? You know what he did.”
“It won’t be long before Brian is caught and put behind bars where he belongs. I’m not saying he deserves to live after what he did, but Hayley would only be hurting herself by killing him. She’d spend the rest of her life behind bars because of him. That would be a waste.”
Hayley had recognized the car she’d seen Becca climb into. The El Camino belonged to a guy who hung around Becca like a bad smell. He was always getting her high and trying to convince her to join his girls on the street. Hayley had stayed out of it, mostly because Becca did a decent job of holding her own and turning the loser down. But for some reason Becca had climbed into his car tonight.
Hayley drove to the guy’s house, but his car wasn’t there. Afraid she might have lost them, she kept on driving. Her first stop was his cousin’s house a few miles away. Nothing there. No familiar cars. Back on the road, she pulled over to let a car pass, then decided to head for the neighborhood where he often ran his girls.
Ten minutes later, she hit pay dirt. His car was parked at the curb in front of a well-known party house. It was sixty degrees outside and yet people were crowded together on the front lawn, playing beer pong. Music blared.
Hayley double-parked. The front door to the house was open and nobody seemed to care who came and went. She wove a path, squeezing through people to get through the front room. Lots of dancing and making out going on. Two girls ground their bodies against a guy, pushing him to the wall. There were kegs of beer in the kitchen and a long row of empty bottles of booze. The floor was sticky. She looked around the room. No sign of Becca. Not until she made her way to the backyard. There she was, sitting on the loser’s lap, taking a hit from a pipe.
