Mostly Murder

by Linda Ladd

  Once she was secured in place, nice and tight, and he’d lit all the candles around her, he hurried back to the house. Zee was still lying there and bleeding all over the floor. But he didn’t want him to die, either, not quite yet. So he carried him back to the barn and stretched him out on the floor in front of the candles. He pulled off the guy’s jacket and shirt and examined his wound. It was pretty god-awful bad, but not fatal. Rene was a good shot, and he’d purposefully avoided hitting any major internal organs, wanting a double helping of victims for his maze.

  Dipping up a bucket of water, he sloshed it over Zee. God, the guy was covered in blood. That wouldn’t do. Once he had him fairly well cleaned up, he did the same thing to Annie. She was covered in green slime, her clothes sodden and nasty. He’d have to take them off her later, after he’d inked her arm.

  Standing up again, Rene moved up to the altar table and picked up his needle and thread. He stood there a moment, looking down at his two playthings, considering whether he should stitch up their eyes and mouths now or wait until later, after he was finished tormenting them. He decided to wait because he wanted to see them terrified and panicked in the intricate metal prison he’d built. Of all the people he’d taken before, they were the most likely to find their way out, but he didn’t think they could, not injured the way they were. Still, it would create some amusement for him. That was the important thing.

  Putting on his reading glasses and carefully threading a needle, he knelt beside Zee and liberally doused his wound front and back with Betadine. Then he pierced the ragged edges of the torn skin and began a neat row of stitches. It wasn’t going to help much, but it would stop some of the bleeding. He turned his young detective friend over and quickly closed up the exit hole. It was larger with more tissue damage, but he managed to do it well enough. He wrapped Zee’s torso with gauze bandages and re-dressed him so he wouldn’t die too soon from exposure. It was very cold inside the maze, it being metal, and all. He wanted Zee alive in there with Claire so she’d have to worry about getting her partner out, too, before he died. Rene wanted her to suffer. She had caused him all kinds of grief, really rocked his safe little world, and now she was going to die hard.

  Once he finished with the wound, he quickly inked his Veve on Zee’s wrist. It didn’t take long. Rene had lots of practice drawing it by now. But marking Claire was certainly everything he’d hoped it would be. Such a famous detective as she was purported to be, and now she was completely under his power. He laughed and picked up his brand new tattoo gun again. He had taped her arms palms up, just under the elbow, so that he could get to her wrist more easily. He felt around her narrow left wrist, and when he touched the spot where he intended to start, her body involuntarily flinched with pain. So he’d broken a bone, just as he’d intended. Well, good. But he’d have to splint it so she’d have a fighting chance to compete in his games inside the maze.

  As he started inking the first snake on her uninjured arm, her eyes fluttered and then opened a little. She was groaning now, and in agony, it sounded like. He stopped and took hold of her hair and jerked her face up so that he could get down into it. “Hello, there, li’l sweet pea. How you feelin’?”

  “What … ?”

  She was much too groggy for him to have much fun goading her, but he put his mouth against her ear so she’d hear him. “Welcome to hell, darlin’. We are just gonna have so much fun after I get your tat on. You ready to fight, huh?”

  “Rene? What … ?” She tried to move, but he’d secured her far too well for that. She couldn’t move a muscle.

  “Just sit still and conserve your strength. You gonna need it, li’l girl. So be patient and hold still. We got ourselves all the time in the world.”

  Rene let her head drop down again and started in on the second snake. He wanted hers to look especially good, not that anybody would ever see it. Chuckling to himself, he hunched over her arm, eager now to get her inside his maze. Oh, yeah, let the games begin.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  When Claire finally forced her eyes open, she saw nothing but black. The first thing she felt was extreme nausea rolling around in her stomach, as if she was going to throw up. Swallowing it down, she tensed all over, somehow aware that she was in mortal danger. Then she felt the awful pain in her left wrist and moaned out loud with it. She found where it hurt with her fingers and realized there was a splint taped to her arm. Shivering all over, she felt as if she was freezing and realized that her hair and her skin were soaking wet. Then, with shock, she realized that she was totally naked.

  Then, in one horrifying instant, she remembered everything that had happened, all of it coming at once—the danger, the fear, the betrayal, that Rene Bourdain was the killer and that he had her in his grip. She lunged up to sitting, terrified, and ended up slamming her head on something metal. It made a ringing sound that echoed down away from her. Wherever Rene had put her, there was no vestige of light; it was just pitch-black, and very, very cold. She couldn’t see anything.

  Goose bumps rippled, her skin crawled, and she felt around with her good arm and realized that her other arm throbbed, too. She didn’t remember injuring it so she felt around on the inside of her right wrist. When she realized what Rene had done, her blood ran cold. The skin under her fingertips was raised up and bleeding and very sore to the touch, and she could feel the curvy outline of the two snakes on her skin, both upright and side by side, just like the ones on Madonna and Wendy and Gabe.

  Horrified, she put her hand over her mouth to stifle a groan. Oh, God, oh, God, he had inked her with his Veve and put her in the maze. She was at his mercy, naked and unarmed. It took some time to slow down her thudding heart and regain control of her nerves, but she finally did it, somehow, and tried desperately to think what she could do. But she couldn’t do anything.

  Blindly, she felt around on the floor underneath her until her hand slid into a puddle of something wet and warm. She jerked her hand away and felt around on the metal right above her. She realized then that she was trapped inside something low and narrow. Oh, God, what was it? It occurred to her that it might be a coffin. Had Rene buried her alive?

  Chills ran up and down her flesh, and she absolutely panicked. She scrambled forward rapidly on her hands and knees and quickly realized that she wasn’t in a box. She was in some kind of tunnel, made out of metal that was cold and hard and impenetrable. Where was she? Had Rene taken her off the island and out of the swamp while she was unconscious? Or were they still in the fish camp?

  Sitting very still then, she listened intently. That’s when she heard the breathing. Oh, God, something was in there with her. Without thinking, she reached automatically under her left arm for her Glock and remembered that she didn’t have either of her weapons. She had lost both of them in the initial scuffle. She was so cold by now that her fingers and feet felt numb. She needed to move them, warm them up, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it for fear he’d put some kind of wild animal in the maze with her.

  So she sat still and tried to adjust her eyes to the inky surroundings. Surely there was light coming through somewhere. She wondered if it was still the same night and how many hours had passed. She froze when she heard a low growl in the dark, somewhere off to her right. Wait, no, it was a groan, somebody in pain. Zee? Had Rene trapped Zee inside with her? She felt around again and estimated her prison to be a hollow pipe about three feet wide and almost that tall. She scooted along in the direction of the sound, feeling ahead of her in the dark with her good hand until she ran into a body. There was another moan of agony, but she couldn’t see him. She couldn’t see anything.

  “Zee? Is that you?” She could feel the liquid wetting her bare knees. Was it his blood? “Zee, answer me! Please say something!”

  Another moan was all she got, so she felt along his body. Rene had not stripped him. He was still fully dressed in his jacket and shirt and T-shirt and jeans. All the clothes were sodden, but his skin felt warm and his hair was wet. She fe
lt around on his torso, trying to find the bullet wound. It was bandaged, and she could smell the antiseptic solution. She realized with some shock that Rene must’ve tried to doctor him.

  Why? Why would he do that? Zee was still breathing, thank God, but he was still bleeding, too. That was the wet substance she felt under her hands and knees. As best she could in the cramped enclosure, she got off his jacket and put it on and zipped it up. She had to stay warm and be able to function if she was going to get them out. Zee’s skin felt feverish, hot to the touch. He was running a temperature. She leaned close and whispered into his ear. “Listen to me, Zee. Hang in there. I’m gonna get us out of here. You hear me, Zee? Don’t you dare die! I’m gonna find a way out.”

  Zee made no sound except for slow and rasping attempts to breathe. Oh, God, he wasn’t going to last too much longer, not without medical attention. Turning quickly, she felt her way down the narrow tunnel. There was no way out. It was solid steel and felt like it had been welded together, but hollow, too, like one long and endless oil drum. It smelled like oil, too, and that frightened her. Rene was obviously insane. What if he had drenched it with some kind of flammable liquid and was going to light a match and burn them alive?

  Claire’s heart hammered with the worst kind of dread, and she forced herself to go back and lie down beside Zee’s lifeless body and try to absorb his warmth and think what she should do. She had to save them both. She was injured, and he was dying. Rene was going to kill them after he finished toying with them, just like he had with all his other victims. She had absolutely no doubt of that. There was not a single sound, inside or out, except for Zee’s labored breaths and her own quick, frightened ones.

  Okay, if she didn’t come back and Black couldn’t get hold of her, he would come looking for her. He always did. She still had the St. Michael’s medal around her neck that he’d given her, the one with the tracking device inside. Maybe he could pick up that signal. He’d told her to keep it on, just to be on the safe side in case she ever got into trouble. So, okay. He would come. He would find her. He would. All she had to do was keep them both alive until he did. Oh, God, where was Rene now? What was he doing? What was he planning to do to them? He’d said he was going to play games with her, hadn’t he? What games? When?

  After several minutes trying to regain composure and control her trembling hands, she turned over and inched down the pipe in the other direction, still on her hands and knees. Her broken wrist was in absolute agony, but she couldn’t think about that. She had to forget that and use the injured arm anyway. Mind over matter. Just do it. She still couldn’t see anything, but she kept one hand out in front of her, moving it from side to side through the darkness, just in case there was something else in there with them.

  Every few seconds she would stop and listen for any sound or movement outside the metal tube. She heard nothing at all, just felt her way through the endless cold metal pipe, welded together into a hellish trap. Maybe he had just left them there alone to die of starvation and exposure. Maybe he was never coming back. She kept moving. She had to. How had he gotten them so far inside the maze? They must be near the middle of the tunnel. And there had to be a way in and out. He couldn’t have dragged both of them through the narrow tube without a lot of back-breaking effort. She just had to find the openings he used and hope he didn’t come back until she did.

  Inching slowly along, she realized that the tunnel shot off every once in a while in a right angle, either left or right, but always away from the main pipe. She tried not to make any sound, but she didn’t know which way she should to go. There were lots of angled passages that led off to God only knew where, probably to booby traps and other terrible things.

  Claire stopped and listened again. No sounds outside, but she had a feeling Rene was out there, waiting around for her to reach a certain spot. He’d said they were going to play. She shuddered to think what that meant. Gabe had described the torture that he and Sophie had suffered. Was that what he was planning? To tie her to a ceiling beam and beat her bloody? Or even worse things?

  Okay, get a grip, she thought. Think, think. You’ve got to outsmart him. She had to keep going, for one thing. Maybe she’d find something, maybe some kind of weapon she could use on him when he showed up. She was not going to let Zee die. How could they all have been so blind and not seen Rene for the monster he was? But who would’ve ever guessed that Rene was a psychotic killer? He was a cop, had always been in law enforcement, and he had been a friend to all of them, a trusted colleague. Why would they ever suspect him?

  Crawling as fast as she could, she turned right at the next junction to see where it led. She had to do something. The tunnel reminded her of the children’s play areas inside McDonald’s restaurants, twisting and turning and rising up and then abruptly descending again. She found an offshoot that appeared to rise about two feet and then level off, but just as she started up it, she froze into place. Heavy footsteps sounded outside, coming closer. Then there was a loud clanking sound like a lever being thrown, and the floor suddenly dropped out from underneath her. She went down hard into another dark enclosed tunnel, crying out when her hands and knees cracked against the unyielding metal floor. Her broken wrist erupted with pain that sent her woozy for a few seconds. Outside, she could hear Rene Bourdain laughing. Oh, God, he really was crazy.

  “How’d you like my Maze of Terror, chère? Fun, ain’t it?” he called out merrily to Claire, as if they were playing a simple game of hide and seek.

  Claire stayed perfectly still and felt around in the dark again and realized that the new tunnel was bigger, taller, enough so that she could squat down and move along if she duck walked. That was better because she didn’t have to use her left arm. She hurried along the new tunnel and tried not to make a sound for fear that he would drop her down again. Moving barefoot through the dark, her right foot suddenly stepped off another drop that was built into the tunnel, and she couldn’t regain her balance fast enough and cried out as she fell and landed hard on her side. She groaned with pain when something sharp bit into her body. Feeling around, she realized she’d fallen onto dozens of upended carpet tacks and nails.

  Biting her lip, she swept them away and pulled the embedded points out of her skin. Some of the puncture wounds bled and hurt like hell. She realized now that Rene was only toying with her at the moment, enjoying her fear and the sound of her screams of terror. Her stomach dropped like lead when she realized that he had done this same thing to other people, to children, like Jill and Jenny, and maybe even Sophie.

  Leaning back against the tubular wall, she decided to stay where she was. If he was getting off on her trying to find her way out of his little evil playpen, she wouldn’t play that game. That probably meant there wasn’t a way out, at least not one she could find. Good God, how had he constructed something so intricate and maniacal, a complicated metal labyrinth in which to torture his captives, out in the middle of the swamp? How long must it have taken him?

  Inhaling deep, bracing breaths, she strove first to calm herself. Okay, if she didn’t move around in his little maze, he wouldn’t get his jollies. Maybe that would make him have to come inside and get her. Then, at least she’d have a fighting chance against him. She could hold her own in hand-to-hand combat, even when injured. So she sat still and listened intently and waited for him to make the next move. It didn’t take him long.

  Suddenly, she heard another clang, and a smaller door opened up right beside her, flooding her in dim, smoky light. Then a long sharp knife jabbed her hard in the side, and she screamed as it sliced through the jacket and into her bare flesh. Rene kept stabbing at her, and she scrambled away until she found the next turn in the tunnel. She took it quickly, crab-walking down it in a big hurry, now very afraid that he could prod her into going anywhere he wanted inside his vicious trap. She fingered her bleeding side and found a couple of shallow puncture wounds, but they weren’t too bad. She pressed her palm over them, but she didn’t feel much pain. Her
adrenaline was rushing through her bloodstream—gushing and pulsing and sending her heartbeat and breathing into overdrive. She had to control her fear. That was the most important thing. She had to remain calm, no matter what he did to her.

  He was right outside again, very near; she could hear him. He was whistling a tune. Oh, God, he was enjoying himself. This was what he considered sport. But there were lots of these hidden doors all over the place so there had to be a place where she could get out. Or maybe kick her way through one of the trap doors. She decided that if she didn’t stop, he couldn’t attack her from outside. She moved as quickly as she could after that, kept on the move, feeling along the cold floor and ceiling for any kind of bolt or hinge, but the seams she found were soldered tightly with metal screws, so tightly welded that she couldn’t loosen them with her fingers.

  Praying that Black had realized something was wrong by now and would come looking for her, she kept crawling as fast as she could. The broken bone was still making her sick to her stomach, and she sometimes felt like she couldn’t breathe deeply enough. Then, suddenly, right in front of her, another trapdoor opened in the top of the tunnel and she could see again for a mere moment. She backed away, afraid of what he was going to do, and then a large, writhing snake dropped down right in front of her. The door slammed shut, and she was plunged into darkness again. She could hear the sound of it twisting around on the pipe, and she backed up as quickly as she could, scrambling to find a junction in the tunnel somewhere behind her, pounding the metal walls with her fist to scare the snake away in the other direction. She squeezed herself enough to turn around and crawl back to the pipe that descended to a lower level.