Deep Dark

by Laura Griffin

  The name hit him like a sledgehammer.

  He read the words. He read them again.

  “What’s wrong?” Jay asked him.

  “Holy shit.”

  • • •

  Reed’s words echoed through Laney’s head. She couldn’t stop thinking about them as she made her way through town with her windows rolled down and the wind blowing through her hair.

  I want to know you.

  Not the most poetic phrase anyone ever uttered. But definitely the most romantic thing a guy had ever said to her. And he’d seemed sincere, too.

  He wanted to know her.

  Part of her wanted to let him. Another part of her wanted to shrug him off and remain aloof.

  Reed wasn’t like other men she knew. He wasn’t running away.

  The men in Laney’s life always seemed to be looking for an exit. But Reed didn’t seem daunted by her weirdness or her demanding job or her antisocial tendencies. Even the idea of a relationship didn’t seem to faze him. In fact, he seemed open to one.

  I want to know you.

  What else could that mean? Unless she was reading too much into it, which was possible, given her somewhat limited experience with men, most of whom spent all their time either working on or playing on computers.

  And just like that, she realized it. She realized what the men in her life lacked, despite all their impressive brain power.

  Maturity.

  Reed wasn’t afraid or insecure or hesitant. He identified what he wanted, and he went after it.

  Laney’s heart thudded as she thought about him, about the easy confidence that had pulled her in from the moment they met.

  I want to know you. No one else had ever made her feel so desired, so feminine. Emotion surged through her, and the giddiness was back. She wanted to know him, too. She wanted to be close to him.

  The wind whipped around her hair as she pulled up to an intersection and glanced around, then consulted her phone again for directions. She made a left at the next corner and followed a two-lane highway past a series of warehouses. She checked her phone one more time and then hooked a right onto a road leading east out of town. To her left was a neighborhood under construction, with houses in various states of completion. By contrast, the land to her right was undeveloped. The fields were dotted with oak trees, and the late-afternoon sun cast long gray shadows across the yellowed grass.

  She drove for a few more minutes and spied a sign marking the next turnoff. She slowed to read it. This was it, but she got that same niggle of doubt she’d felt when she’d pulled up to Scream’s newly purchased property the other night. It didn’t look like she’d expected. But if there was anything she’d learned from her investigations, it was that looks could be deceiving.

  Laney turned down the narrow road, rolling up her windows and switching off the radio so she could give the surroundings her full attention. She was on the east edge of town. The houses were far apart on lots that looked like subdivided farmland, someone’s back forty that had been sold and sold and sold again. Barbed-wire fences separated lots peppered with little houses and septic tanks and double-wide trailers.

  Definitely not what she’d pictured. She’d thought he’d live in more of an urban setting, maybe in some kind of bachelor pad. But why had she thought that? She’d been making assumptions about him. For all she knew, he might not be single at all. He could be married with 2.5 kids, a three-bedroom house, and Labradoodle.

  A mailbox came into view, and Laney read the number. This was it. She pulled into the gravel driveway and bumped along for a few minutes before rolling to a stop behind an old black pickup. The house was bigger than the others out here, with a pair of dormer windows on top and a wraparound front porch. Definitely room for a family, but Laney saw no sign of anyone as she climbed from her car.

  She tucked her phone into the pocket of her hoodie and glanced around. No rope swing dangling from the giant oak in back. No trikes in the yard. No dogs, either, only a pair of pink plastic flamingos flanking the wooden stairs. The warped boards creaked as she mounted the steps and looked for a doorbell. She didn’t find one, so she pulled the screen door open and knocked.

  No answer.

  She glanced around and waited. She stepped over to a window and cupped her hand to peer through the grimy windowpane, but the curtains were drawn, and she couldn’t see anything inside.

  Curtains. Another detail she wouldn’t have expected. She looked again at the pink flamingos. Was it possible he lived with his mother? She knocked once more, louder this time, then let the screen door slam shut. She descended the steps and checked her watch.

  “Hello? Anyone home?” she called.

  A low droning noise had her turning around. It was a power tool, maybe a drill, and it was coming from the outbuilding. Laney tromped across the driveway, glancing at the pickup. It had mud-caked tires and a trailer hitch in back. Laney followed a dirt path to the building, which was made of weathered wooden slats and listed slightly to the right. It had probably been here for decades, yet it looked like it might blow over in the next big storm.

  The door was ajar, and she stepped inside. The air smelled of dust and motor oil. She stood in the doorway for a moment to let her eyes adjust.

  It was a large space, bigger than a garage but smaller than a barn. To her left was an old red Mustang up on blocks, no tires. To her right was a tarp-covered car and a wooden workbench littered with tools.

  The back of Laney’s neck prickled. She surveyed the array of wrenches and screwdrivers, the scattering of nuts and bolts. Her stomach started to sink. A faint humming noise filled her ears, blocking out all other sensory information, all other sound.

  Laney’s chest constricted. She couldn’t breathe. She stepped back, bumping against the doorframe. She reached for her phone as something hard pressed between her shoulder blades.

  “Hello, Delaney.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Reed sped toward the police station.

  “We need to take him down ASAP,” he told Jay.

  “You think he knows we’re on to him?”

  “Hell, yes. He just planted the bloody murder weapon and handed us our prime suspect on a silver platter.”

  “You’re right,” Jay said. “I bet he’s the ‘dog walker’ who phoned in that tip.”

  “Just like he’s the helpful neighbor up in Michigan. Who are you calling?”

  “Jordan. She should still be there. . . . Hey, it’s Jay. Listen, is Paul in the lab?” Jay looked at him across the truck. “Yeah, go check.”

  Reed tapped the brakes as he raced through another intersection.

  “He’s gone.”

  “Shit.” Reed pounded the steering wheel.

  “Said he planned to work from home the rest of the day,” Jay added.

  “We need to get a team over there. He’s definitely a flight risk. Explain it to Jordan, get her to tell Hall.”

  Jay was frowning now, clearly unhappy about something she was telling him. “They’re in the middle of a press conference,” Jay said. “A SWAT team’s not happening, at least not anytime soon.”

  “You and me, then,” Reed said. “We’ll scrounge up some patrol guys for backup. We can take him down and figure out the rest later. At minimum, we need to get eyes on his house. I’m telling you, when he finds out we’ve ID’d him, he’s going to go off the grid.”

  Jay was shaking his head again and put the phone on speaker. “Jordan, I’m with Reed. You’re on speaker.”

  “He’s in the middle of a press conference,” she said.

  “Who, Hall?” Reed asked.

  “Hall, the chief, a couple of PR flacks. They’re announcing we have a suspect in custody.”

  “He arrested Phelps?” Jay asked.

  “Just a minute ago, yeah.”

  “On what charges?” />
  “Making false statements. And also—”

  “Jordan, listen,” Reed cut in. “I need you to look up an address for me.”

  “What am I, your secretary?”

  “It’s important. I need the home address for Paul Doher.”

  She paused a beat. “Our Paul?”

  “Yes, and I need it fast.”

  “Yeah, what’s up with that? Why’s everyone asking for Paul’s address today?”

  “What do you mean?” Reed looked at Jay. “Who else is asking for it?”

  “Laney Knox called here half an hour ago,” Jordan said. “She wanted the same thing.”

  • • •

  Her chest felt hollow. Fear zinged around inside it like a trapped sparrow trying to get out.

  “We’re going to do this slowly,” he said, and the muzzle of the gun pressed against her spine. “You’re going to lift your arms, both of them.”

  Her hand was frozen around her phone. Would she be able to slide her thumb over the emergency call button without looking at it?

  “Now. Do it.”

  Her heart thudded. She lifted her arms up. She heard him take a step back, then another.

  “Now, turn around. Slowly.”

  Her tongue felt thick. She swallowed. Slowly, she turned around.

  Paul’s face was tight, his blue eyes squinty. The side of his lip curled up in a sneer.

  “Your shock betrays you, Delaney. You don’t remember me.”

  Her gaze locked on the gun pointed straight at her chest. He held it steadily, and the suppressor on it made it look even more menacing.

  He squinted at her. “You don’t remember me at all, do you?”

  Remember him . . . remember him? She remembered meeting him last week, but she sensed he wasn’t talking about that. And he was bigger than she’d realized. Stockier. In the computer lab, he’d looked paunchy, but now she saw that he was solidly built. He wore jeans and work boots and a canvas jacket, despite the heat. What other weapons did he have on him?

  “Your phone.” He nodded at it. “Toss it on the workbench.”

  She hesitated.

  “Now.”

  She walked over and tossed it onto the table with all the tools, and suddenly she knew what he was doing. He took another step back from her.

  “Now, pick a hammer.” He smiled faintly, and her blood chilled. “Any one you like. You get to choose.”

  Her chest squeezed. She glanced around frantically.

  “Move.”

  She stepped forward. On the table was a metal toolbox containing an array of slender hammers that all looked the same. She took one from the case, wrapping her trembling fingers around the handle. There was something dark stuck on the end of it.

  “Good choice. That was April’s.”

  Her gaze jumped to his. Her throat went dry.

  “Smash the phone.”

  She stared at him.

  “Now!”

  She gave the phone a whack, shattering the screen.

  “Again.”

  Her stomach clenched as she gave it another solid hit.

  “Good girl. Now, put it down and take three steps back.”

  Her brain whirled. She had just destroyed her only lifeline. But she had a weapon in her hand now.

  “Oooh, you’re thinking, aren’t you?” His smile disappeared. “Be smart, Delaney. What’s faster than a speeding bullet? Not a flying hammer, I promise you. Put it down.”

  She did.

  Then she backed away, scrounging for a plan. If she could get close enough to kick him or wrestle the gun away—

  “Turn around. Hands against the wall.”

  She turned and leaned her hands against the rough wooden boards. Through the gaps in the slats, she could see the golden grass of the neighbor’s property. How far away was that? She tried to remember the layout—

  “Feet apart.”

  He stepped closer. He smelled of sweat and motor oil, and bile rose in the back of her throat. The muzzle of the gun caressed her neck, and she inhaled sharply.

  “Spread ’em.” His breath was warm against her ear. “Your detective ever tell you to do that?”

  She moved her feet apart, and her stomach churned as she stared at her hands against the wood. Where was Reed right now? She should have told him where she was going, but she hadn’t. She’d thought about it, but she hadn’t wanted to check in with him or anybody.

  His hand was in her pocket now, groping her through her jeans. Then it was inside her hoodie, fishing the car keys out.

  Think.

  He was smart, but she was smarter. She hoped. She just had to get the gun somehow. Or disable him and make a run for it. The neighbors weren’t that far, not if she got a head start.

  “I’ll give you a hint,” he said mockingly. The gun slid down her spine, and she sucked in a breath. “CS three-forty-six. Undergraduate cryptography with Dr. Woodward.”

  Laney’s mind raced.

  “No? Still don’t remember me?” The gun pressed into her tailbone. “I read your paper on encryption security and gave you an A you didn’t deserve.”

  Her mind came up blank. He was Woodward’s TA? It had been a huge weed-out class at eight in the morning. She remembered sitting in a sea of people and struggling to keep her eyes open. But she had absolutely no memory of Paul Doher.

  The gun scraped up her back, and her heart gave another lurch.

  “You bitches are all the same, lost in your petty little worlds.” He stepped away from her. “Turn around, let’s go.”

  She slowly turned around, looking for anything she could grab as a weapon. He was too far away for her to try anything, and she had a sinking feeling he knew about her kickboxing.

  Of course he did. He knew everything. He’d been watching.

  “Now.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  She moved slowly toward the door. He was several steps behind, but she felt the gun aimed at her back like a laser burning through her clothes. As she stepped into the sunlight, she darted a desperate look around. The neighbors were distant, maybe fifty yards. The road was even farther, and there was no traffic. She glanced at the shadows and knew the sun would be setting soon.

  “To the house,” he ordered.

  She trudged past his truck, still grasping for a plan. Any chance he’d left the keys inside? She cast a longing look at her car as they moved toward the weathered wooden stairs she’d climbed willingly only minutes ago.

  A lifetime ago.

  She saw the stairs now, the warped wooden boards, and the screen door with the chipping paint. The house loomed closer and closer.

  If she went inside that house, she was never coming out.

  Acid churned inside her stomach. Sweat slid down her back, and she could feel his beady blue eyes on her. She climbed a step. Then another. She lifted her foot for the final step and thrust it back, smashing her heel into something hard.

  Thwack.

  The post beside her splintered as a bullet landed. She ducked and whirled around, barreling past him sprawled on his back, but he quickly rolled to his knees.

  Screaming, she sprinted for the nearest fence, but the closest trailer seemed miles away. She could feel him at her heels, getting closer and closer as she ran. And then her yell became a shrill wail as he caught her hoodie and yanked her back.

  She fell to the ground, landing hard on her butt. A sharp blow to the back of the head. For a second, she saw stars. Then she was scrambling forward, clawing at the grass, the dirt, screaming and kicking and trying to get away. He was on her, flipping her onto her back, and she thrust her knee up, then smashed the heel of her hand into his chin, sending him rolling sideways. He gasped and sputtered and clutched his groin as she tripped to her feet and rocketed for the fence. />
  She darted through the trees, the scrub brush, panting and looking frantically for help. The neighboring trailer’s windows were dark. No cars. The next-closest building was a double-wide with a pickup parked beside it.

  She stumbled over rocks and tree roots as she plunged through the low brush. She cast a look over her shoulder, but he wasn’t behind her now, only trees and bushes. Was he hiding, or had she nailed him hard enough to keep him down?

  She tripped to her knees but bounced right back up and kept running for the fence. It was a wire game fence, five or six feet tall. She’d have to scale it, which would give him a clear shot. She changed course and dashed for a section concealed by a cedar tree, stripping her jacket off as she went so it wouldn’t snag. She ducked behind the foliage and cast a last look over her shoulder. He still wasn’t there, at least not where she could see. She reached for the wire mesh with both hands.

  Fire tore up her arms.

  CHAPTER 30

  Jay scowled at the map on his phone. “It’s in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

  “Did you know he lived way out here?” Reed asked as he raced down the road.

  “I didn’t know a damn thing about him. The guy’s like office furniture. I never gave him a second thought.”

  “Nobody did. Maybe that’s his problem.” Reed gripped the wheel, and he thought about Laney. A sour ball of dread formed in his gut. “Call the dispatcher again.”

  Jay did. “Hey, it’s Wallace.” He listened a moment, then looked at Reed. “Still nothing on Laney’s cell phone.”

  “Ping it again.”

  “Try it again and call me back,” Jay instructed. He hung up with the dispatcher and looked at Reed. “Emergency services has pinged her phone twice now. No GPS signal, which means it’s disabled. Either the battery’s been removed or it’s been destroyed.”