“We started following the man you claim is stalking your girlfriend. His name’s Greg Holmes—”
I roll my eyes as he tells me what I already know, but I keep the extent of my knowledge to myself. If I’ve learned anything by now, it’s to not talk too much.
“—unfortunately, because he doesn’t have a previous record we don’t have his DNA in our data base.”
Now he really has my attention. “Why are you trying to get his DNA when you’re already convinced mine was found in the dead woman’s body?”
“That’s the thing. I’m not convinced it’s your DNA. Sure, it’s more than enough to lay the foundation for a solid case, but contrary to what you may think, I do want to convict the right person. There’s nothing to be gained from putting an innocent man away. I’m sure you’re already aware that identical twins share the same DNA.”
Yeah, I really fucking appreciate you allowing me to be locked up when you suspected all along it wasn’t me. Rather than voicing how I really feel, I just stick to the business at hand—finding out the truth before my brother is successful in ruining my career and my life.
“What does that have to do with anything, Agent? It isn’t like Lance could have killed her; we both know he’s rotting away in the psych ward. While I welcome the prospect of you taking the case in a direction away from me, I still don’t understand why you’re having second thoughts.”
Even though I have my own ideas of what my brother has done I’m not giving any information up. I want to know what the agent knows and where this investigation is going. This guy’s really beginning to piss me off. If it wasn’t for the fact that I need him to help me find out what happened, I’d tell him to fuck off and talk to my lawyer.
“Your brother reached out to me and he swears he gave Greg Holmes his seminal fluid to set you up, said they’d stored it in a diluent so it would keep for up to a week. They must not have wanted to take any chances. Greg Holmes killed the girl three days later.”
Why the fuck is my brother getting a conscience all of a sudden? As if answering my internal question he continues.
“I think your brother has had an attack of conscience now that he knows you’re a suspect in a murder. Sort of a case of ‘be careful what you wish for’. When his fantasy of tormenting you came to pass as reality, he balked. I really can’t say why, except that he seems to find it more entertaining knowing that you’re walking around a free man.”
Yeah, that sounds like Lance alright, take it right to the wire and then have a come-to-Jesus moment.
“Anyway, we’ve been following Madonna’s stalker and the little shit must have gotten wise because when he threw his water bottle away, we thought we had his DNA. Come to find out it wasn’t even his.”
“What did he do, get someone else’s water bottle?”
“It appears so. Look doc, this guy isn’t stupid. To be honest with you, I’ve never seen someone so careful about not leaving their DNA behind. If he smokes, he butts the cigarette and puts it in his pocket. When he goes to a restaurant he only eats finger food. The little fuck goes so far as to take his own drink into a restaurant—hides it in his pocket like a packrat or something. I’d thought I’d seen it all but this is a first for me. One thing’s for sure: he’s guilty of something or he wouldn’t be going to this extent to ensure we don’t get his DNA.”
Madonna
Liam doesn‘t say anything when he hangs up the phone, he doesn’t need to because the intense look in his eyes and the bite of his hand around my throat speak volumes. When did I start craving his brand of crazy? He’s right; I could never be satisfied with vanilla sex anymore. I am a woman undone.
“First things first. I know you heard me.”
His voice is a low rumble like the warning of an approaching storm and it excites me. I’ve come to crave this sense of trepidation that is never far away whenever he’s around. The uncertainty of not knowing what he’s thinking or what he’ll do is an aphrodisiac I am hopelessly hooked on.
“Don’t be deceived, Madonna. Loving you won’t make me weak.”
“What will it do, then?” I rasp, unable to resist the urge to know more.
“You tell me. How far will an obsessed man go? Only time will tell.”
His words hang heavy in the air around us. I hope I haven’t been deceiving myself with illusions of a ‘happily ever after’ that will never be.
Chapter Fifty Eight
His Invasion
I watch them a lot now and I honestly can’t decide if I do it to learn their schedule or if I just enjoy watching them have sex.
Well, would you look at that, he’s doing it again—locking his hand around her throat. The guy’s a sexual asphyxiation aficionado – who knew? He is clearly into controlling everything about the woman—even the air she breathes belongs to him. I could easily be jealous, but that’s okay. He may control her life but I’ll control her death.
I waited until the early morning hours because I know their guard will be down. People look for monsters under their bed at night—the early morning hours hold the promise of a brand new day and people tend to be at their unsuspecting weakest. I’m going to enjoy making him beg for her life. Talk about control, oh yeah, I’m going to have it.
I forge through the thicket before I can change my mind. The first thing I do is open my bag and take out the wire cutters and cut the phone lines. It not only takes care of the landlines but the security system as well. I lick the suction cup on the glass cutter and stick it firmly on the sliding glass door. It makes an annoying scratching noise as it cuts a perfect circle that pops out when I give it just the right amount of pressure.
I know they’re still upstairs in bed or I’d be more concerned about the sound of the glass being cut. Surely it’s amplified in my ears due to the intense adrenaline dump I’m experiencing. I’m a little jittery as I reach my hand through the hole in the glass and, with a swipe of two fingers, unlock the door and quietly slide it open.
So fucking close. I’ve waited so long for this moment and now finally it’s here. I didn’t originally plan on her superhero being a part of it, but since Liam’s stay in jail was brief he’s an added bonus. I’ve got a score to settle with that son of a bitch anyway, for leaving me knocked out in an alley so some drunk could go through my pockets. It was degrading to wake up like that; it’s only fair that I return the favor.
I’m going to enjoy taunting them both, more than any of the others. And I mustn’t leave Lance out. Imagine how that pompous son of a bitch would feel if I called him to taunt him with the fact that I killed his beloved twin. The thought gives me an idea…maybe I really should include him. Perhaps I’ll make him listen to the sound of the bullet entering his brother’s brain.
The quiet sounds of the early morning assure me the two people still lounging in bed have no idea I’m standing right outside their bedroom door.
My heartbeat quickens as I think of the screams of terror that will soon fill the air and obliterate any peace that they have found here.
Liam
I know that sound. Even before I open my eyes. It’s the sound of my Glock being pulled back to put a bullet in the chamber. We made love and fell back to sleep and now I’m wishing like hell we hadn’t. The son of a bitch is here in my house.
His voice sounds like a kid bragging about some fucked up mistake he’s made, with no thought of the consequences of his stupid decision.
“Now, this here gun is a Glock 41 automatic, ain’t that right, doctor?” He’s deliberately talking like a backwoods hick, but I don’t think the son of a bitch is stupid. Crazy, yes, but not stupid.
“Now, this here is the trigger safety but we won’t be needin’ that. You got you a tactical gun, like what the police carry. I see you went for the thirteen shots. You know they got a ten-shot optional.”
This crazy fuck is making me nervous as he toys around with my gun, lightly tossing it from hand to hand, testing its weight. I had taken it out from underneath M
adonna’s pillow earlier, and I’m mentally kicking myself in the ass for not putting it in the drawer. My mind’s racing, trying to figure out whether he triggered the alarm when he came in.
“I bet you’re wondering if I triggered that security alarm when I came in. You really should have had Urban Elite hard-wire that baby rather than going old school with a landline. Really, Liam – snip, snip, you’re dead. Nobody’s going to hear you scream way out here. Well, except for me. It’s just you, me, and that pretty little thing asleep in your bed. Damn, she can just about sleep through anything, can’t she?”
I hope she stays that way until I can get my hands on him and squeeze the air out of his worthless lungs. I have no intention of letting him live—we’d be looking over our shoulders the rest of our lives if I did.
“Hey, I got an idea,” he says with glee. “Let’s call brother dearest and see what he thinks about our little group. Bet he gives me the respect I’m due now. Seeing as how that landline of yours has been cut, I’ll just call him on my cell.”
He sets the gun on the dresser next to him but it’s still out of my reach. I wonder if he’s been paying the guard again because he seems certain they’re going to let him talk to Lance. I watch in disbelief as he dials the number.
Madonna
I struggle to keep my breathing normal as I listen to the musings of a madman. I have no intention of being fuel for his fire. He wants to breed fear and I refuse to give him the pleasure. It isn’t me he wants to terrorize, anyway, it’s Liam and Lance.
I listen as he talks to the person who answers the phone.
“Hey, Lieutenant, this is Holmes. Take that cell of yours to Lance and I’ll make it worth your while on my next visit.” The man isn’t happy to hear from him, judging by his next words. “Just fucking do it and you’re back on payroll.”
His next comment is directed at Liam. “Imagine how he’s going to react when he finds out I’ve got you looking down the barrel of your own gun.”
Once again Liam says nothing. I know his strategy is to not talk so the situation doesn’t escalate out of control. When Greg – I guess that’s what I should call him -- begins speaking into the phone again, I know the guard has handed his cell phone to Lance.
“I thought you might like to know that I’m sitting here with that bitch you wanted to kill. I’ve decided that today is her day to die.” A sadistic laugh rings through the air as he makes his next statement. “And guess what? I’m going to kill the bitch with your brother’s gun.”
Liam
It will be a cold day in hell before I let him or anyone else kill my woman, much less with my own gun.
“What the fuck do you mean, you don’t believe me?” he rants, his voice becoming high-pitched, just shy of shrieking. “He’s right here!”
He shoves the cell phone into my hand and crosses his arms over his chest, huffing like a petulant child who insists Daddy tell a non-believer that Santa Claus really is real.
I know that, without me saying a word, my brother knows I’m on the phone. You can’t spend nine months in the same womb and not be bound, no matter how many years you spend apart. That’s why I continued to search for him as long as I did. I could feel him out there somewhere, waiting for me.
“Liam.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“First chance you get…you kill that motherfucker.”
“Yes. He has me here at his mercy,” I answer flatly.
Greg grabs at the phone and I resist the urge to pull it away just to piss him off.
“Yeah, so I guess I’m the better man,” he snaps. “I get the girl and your brother. Serves you right, asshole. Not quite as dumb as you thought, huh?” With that he ends the call triumphantly and directs his attention back to the bed.
“What the fuck, man? Does she take sleeping pills or something?”
“She has a prescription of Ambien. She’s needed it lately.” I’m lying because I’m well aware she’s feigning sleep.
“Because of me,” he purrs smugly.
You must be so fucking proud. Right now, keeping her safe is all that matters so I don’t respond. Then…he drops a bombshell.
“You know, your own brother helped me set you up. It’s amazing what you can do with a vile of semen and a turkey baster.”
“Then why are you even here? You know I’m going to be put away—probably rooming with my brother, for God’s sake. One of us will end up killing the other—so why are you here?”
“Hey, hey,” he starts waving the gun around. “You! You left me in a fucking alley and I woke up with some drunk going through my pockets! You don’t humiliate me like that and get away with it.”
What he does next causes my heart to drop down to my fucking balls and for the first time…I. Am. Afraid.
Chapter Fifty Nine
Madonna
He jabs the muzzle of the gun into my ribs and, oddly enough, I’m more concerned about Liam reacting and getting shot than I am about me getting hurt.
“I’m up, I’m up. Fuck, man…” I deliberately react like it’s no big deal that we’re being held at gunpoint by a crazy man.
“I bet you’ve got to pee, girl. You’ve got two choices: I stand in that bathroom doorway and watch, or you hold it as long as you can and then you piss all over yourself.”
“Let the girl go to the bathroom. This is between you and me. In fact, why don’t you just let her go?”
The butt of the gun slams across Liam’s face, but the blood seeping from the wound isn’t what shocks me, it’s the look on his face. Hi iron-willed fortitude and the fact that he never even flinched has me slack-jawed. I am in awe of this man of mine. I’ve seen enough fucked up dysfunction to know that kind of resolve only comes from walking through hell and coming out the other side. No wonder we’re so connected…
Liam
His attention is where I want it—on me and off of her. My throbbing cheekbone threatens to trigger a migraine but I somehow will it away. There are more important matters at hand: like killing this son of a bitch. The fact that he’s in my house, pointing my gun at my woman has my blood boiling. I’ll deal with that traitorous brother of mine later. There are more pressing issues to be dealt with first.
“I bet you never thought I’d be closer to that brother of yours than you are. He set you up with no thought of love for you. I guess all that shit they say about twins being joined is bullshit.” He laughs harshly before he continues, “Wonder if he felt it just now when I smacked the shit out of you with your own gun? I’ll be sure to ask him the next time I visit.”
I glare at him with hooded eyes as he gets right up in my face to taunt me in a creepy sing-song voice, “I know something you don’t know…” He swings the gun in Madonna’s direction, pointing it at her while casting me a sly, sidelong look. “Lance tells me she came to see him for a private visit while you were in jail—know what else the fucker said?” He gives me no time to answer, just continues his stream-of-consciousness rant about my brother, The Riddler. “He told her to kill me—can you believe that?! Told her to keep your gun under her pillow so she could blow my brains out if I broke in. Hey, by the way,” he says, turning to me with a scowl and waving the gun around for emphasis, “how’d you manage to get out of jail with a murder charge hanging over your head?”
“The governor…”
Before I can even finish he’s laughing wildly like a crazed hyena. He presses the barrel of the gun beneath my jaw so hard that I have no choice but to look up at him.
“Ooh, I guess I should be worried about all those important people who’ll come after me after I kill you. Mr. High and Mighty Surgeon has got friends in high places. Why, the hospital will probably dedicate a wing in your memory--”
“Drop the weapon!”
All eyes turn to the bedroom door and the surreal vision of FBI Agent Rene Murphy standing, feet braced apart, her gun aimed straight at Greg Holmes.
I lunge toward Madonna, knocking her back onto the mattress and cov
ering her body with my own. There’s no need for her to see what I know is coming. I turn just in time to see Holmes swing his arm in Murphy’s direction, right before she blows the top of his head off.
I don’t look away as blood and chunks of Holmes’ brain spray the wall before sliding down to the floor, creating a gag-inducing mosaic of gore on my bedroom wall. I can’t look away; I need to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the crazy fuck is dead.
Time seems to stop as Murphy holsters her gun and gives the ‘all clear’. FBI agents pour into the room and mayhem ensues. I lift Madonna from the bed and carry her from the room, pressing her face into my neck so she doesn’t have to see the mess.
I’m already running through names of realtors in town I can call to list this place – once it’s cleaned up, anyway. Bloody scenes like the one in my bedroom would probably haunt the average person. Not me. The sight of Greg Holmes lying in a pool of his own blood, dead as a fucking doornail, is a vision I will relish for the rest of my life.
Madonna
Liam hands me a cup of coffee. I reach through the folds of the blanket he tucked around me and cradle the steaming mug in my hands.
The house is full of law enforcement personnel: CSI, the FBI, local police, the coroner. I wonder if life will ever be the same for either of us.
“Please excuse the interruption. I’d like to talk to you, it’ll only take a moment.”
I look up and see the FBI agent who shot the man we now know as Greg Holmes.
“Ms. Mathews,” she says in greeting. “I’m sorry you had to be right in the middle of what happened here tonight, but there was no other way. Luckily, I can tell you with absolute certainty that your nightmare is over. I’m sure you’re already aware that the perpetrator developed a fixation on you that grew from his obsession with Dr. Chambers’ brother.”
Cellar Door Page 18
