Ralph leaped out of the driver’s seat and came for me.
Where could I go? The rest of the fence was intact, and the gaps that Ralph had created were behind him. To get out, I’d have to run right for him.
I did the only thing I knew to do. I turned and ran.
There was no path except around the pool, essentially going in a circle. But I realized that was a good thing, because it meant that I’d get to the gap in the fence, and that I could get free.
I focused on the spot next to the car where the fence was bent down, where I’d jump over it and scramble out into the darkness.
Freedom.
He was too fast for me.
He caught me, tackled me.
I went down face first into the concrete. My chin glanced painfully, jamming my teeth against each other. Agony lanced through my jaw, so intense that I hardly felt the places where my skin had been scraped from the impact of hitting the concrete so hard under his body.
He pinned me down.
I screamed again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Ralph laughed, the sound loud at my ear. He was pressing his entire body into mine, and I could feel his hot breath on my neck. I was disgusted by the fact that I’d had sex with this man. I had terrible instincts. What kind of detective did I really think I was, anyway? What kind of woman? Shouldn’t I have been able to sense that Ralph was what he was?
“You shouldn’t have run from me,” he said. “You’re going to pay for that.”
I struggled beneath him. He was heavy, and I could hardly breathe under his bulk.
He responded by settling more firmly on me. “Stop it.”
I’d wounded him before. If I could exploit that weakness, literally hit him where it hurt, maybe I could get away.
I shut my eyes, concentrating on the way he felt on me. Could I feel where he was bleeding? Could I tell?
At first, all I could focus on was the strain on my lungs, the pressure on my rib cage. I was afraid that my bones were going to snap under his girth.
But then I did feel it. Warm and liquid. Right in the center of my back.
If I could wedge my elbow…
He grabbed at my arm, trying to pin it down.
I shook him off. I aimed my elbow.
And I planted it right in the spot where I’d stabbed him.
He squealed. He lifted off of me—just an inch, just for a second.
It was all I needed to wriggle out. I crawled on my stomach, kicking at him with my shoes.
He shrieked and grunted—half in pain, half in frustration.
I scooted out from beneath him. Free. Completely—
He seized my ankles.
I kicked.
He held fast.
I twisted, turning to look into his face. “You were a lousy lay, you know that?” And then I kicked sideways with all my strength.
My foot collided hard with his face.
He let go and went tumbling over onto his back.
I scrambled to my feet and kicked him again.
He slid off the side of the concrete and into the pool, landing in there with all of his body parts.
He howled.
I backed away.
I could see that he was wading through the macabre pieces and bones to the ladder out. He’d be after me again any minute.
I took off running again, jumping through the gap in the fence like I’d planned.
I emerged behind the motel. I could see the main lobby, back door gaping open. Through there, the front of the motel, the parking lot and the road.
I headed for it, through the door, inside.
The lobby had a high desk, facing the front door. I was coming up behind, and there was someone sitting there. I could make out the person’s outline from here.
But that didn’t make any sense. There was no one else here. Still, that was a definite human shape.
I shot a glance over my shoulder.
Ralph was bursting through the gate in the chain-link fence, his clothes smeared with blood and gore. He was baring his teeth as he came after me.
I turned back to the figure, running even faster.
I shot a glance over as I opened the gate for the desk.
Oh.
It was Madison—I recognized her. She was propped up in the chair, posed like a clerk. But her face…
Her eyes had been gouged out and there was nothing there but gaping holes, dark and empty, endlessly staring.
I let out another involuntary scream as I scrambled past her.
Then I was out of the motel, back in the parking lot again.
I started to run towards the road again. As plans went, it was the best that I had, even though I hadn’t seen another car pass through here, it was true.
Slam.
Down on the pavement again, flat on my stomach, all the previous injuries I’d gotten smarting from repeat abuse.
This time, I couldn’t blame Ralph, though.
This time, I’d tripped over a big chunk of pavement. It had broken loose and had been right in my path. I hadn’t seen it.
Ralph was through the door of the lobby now. He was close—too close.
If I got up and tried to run again, he’d catch up with me.
So I froze. I curled my hand around the big chunk of pavement that I’d tripped on, and I stopped moving, played possum.
Ralph laughed. “See, that’s what you get. That’s what you get.” He stopped next to me and nudged my body with my foot.
I let him, not reacting.
“Knocked yourself out, did you?”
I didn’t breathe.
He bent down over my body, clucking at me. “Should have known better.”
I waited until his face was close.
No, closer.
Until he was peering into my eyes, trying to determine if I was as stunned as I appeared.
And then I slammed the chunk of pavement into his stupid nose.
He yelled, blood gushing everywhere.
I brought the chunk of pavement down on him again—same spot—maximize the pain.
He let out a scream that almost sounded inhuman.
One more time.
And he was still.
“Fuck,” I murmured.
I hit him over the head again, just to be sure.
His body reacted like a slab of meat.
I whimpered.
I went through his pockets and found my cell phone. I dialed with shaky fingers, keeping my eye on him the entire time.
“Nine one one, what is your emergency?” said my phone.
My heart was still beating so loudly that I thought it might burst out of my temples.
* * *
“Hey, you awake?”
I opened my eyes. I was in a hospital room in Steel County, not because I was very badly injured, but mostly because they wanted to check me over. I’d been assured that I’d be released pretty soon. I hadn’t told anyone that I was here, so I wasn’t sure who might be talking to me. I squinted at the figure at the foot of my bed.
“Miles?” My voice was hoarse from all the screaming I’d done. “How are you here?”
“Oh, someone recognized you and called me.” He smiled wryly. “I guess your fame has spread beyond Renmawr.”
I groaned. To think that people this far north also knew all about my getting fired didn’t make me happy. “Geez, you’d think people would let it go. So, I had sex with a married man. That’s hardly a reason to think I’m a terrible person.” I still remembered how awkward my hearing had been, however. The guy I’d had sex with had been married to a transcriptionist who worked at the courthouse, Melly. Everyone loved her. She made homemade dough nuts twice a month—enough for the entire police department, and she was probably the nicest person in the history of the universe. I’d hurt her, and—for that—everyone hated me.
“For what it’s worth, I agree with you. I don’t see how your sex life is any of the department’s business. But they did have those text
s on your work phone—”
“He sent those texts,” I grumbled, sitting up in my hospital bed. “Anyway, there’s nothing I can do about it now.”
“Doesn’t seem like it, no.”
“I have terrible taste in people that I actually sleep with,” I muttered.
“You do,” he said.
“I should have just slept with you. None of this would have happened.”
He turned bright red and coughed.
“Sorry,” I said. “Are we supposed to pretend that the thing in the shower didn’t happen?”
He dragged a hand over his face.
I didn’t say anything.
He didn’t say anything.
Awkward silence. Everything was back to normal between Miles and me.
“You, um, you did good, Ivy,” he said. “That guy you brought in. That motel… They aren’t sure yet. They’ve got dental records to check and DNA to verify, but it looks like there might be bodies there from five states and counting. You were right. He went up and down the interstate killing people. It’s going to be a heyday passing this guy from state to state for all these murders. I figure he’ll have trial after trial for years.”
I smiled, and it hurt. I touched my face. “Oh, crap, I’m all skinned up, aren’t I?”
“You don’t look great,” he admitted. “But you just fought off a maniac, so it’s to be expected.” He cocked his head to one side. “How’d you figure it out, anyway? I mean, I thought that theory of yours was a long shot. I never thought you’d bring the guy in a few hours later. How’d you find him?”
I made a face. “Well, I didn’t exactly. I was actually going to meet up with the truck driver that I’d hooked up with before to, um… well, like I said, I have terrible taste in people I actually sleep with.”
“So, this was a tryst?”
Tryst? Who said that? Only someone who didn’t actually have sex, of course. “I did figure it out. Right at the last minute. I remembered that he was the one who brought up serial killers in the first place, and all the pieces came together. But by then I was already out at that motel, and I couldn’t get away.”
“At least not at first,” he said. “You messed him up pretty bad. I always said you were tough.”
“It would have been easier with a gun,” I muttered.
“Yeah, well, I’m still working on that.” He gave me a half-grin.
I smiled back.
We stayed like that for a few seconds, just smiling at each other, quiet.
“Look, Miles,” I said. “I’m sorry I ran off from you.”
He hung his head. “It’s okay. The truth was that I was kind of relieved that you did. You might have noticed that I didn’t exactly pursue you and try to get you back.”
I took a deep breath. “I have something I have to tell you. I know that when we were dating, I said that the reason I was sleeping with all those other people was because you wouldn’t have sex with me. But that’s not really true.”
He swallowed. “So, then why?”
I hesitated. “I don’t… I don’t really know. I just need to do it.”
“Ivy—”
“I’m a very fucked-up person, Miles.”
He sighed.
“Anyway, it wouldn’t have mattered if we did it or not, okay? It wouldn’t stop me being the way I am.” I examined my fingernails, unable to meet his gaze.
He didn’t say anything for a long time.
Finally, I did look up at him.
And he was looking at his toes.
“Miles?” I said.
“I see,” he said. “You couldn’t ever stop.”
I shook my head.
“Even though I was willing to start for you, you wouldn’t be willing to stop for me.”
I sighed. “I don’t want us to be that way.”
“What way?”
“I don’t want either of us to have to compromise who we are just so that we can have a relationship. I love you, Miles, and I want you to be you. If it’s not natural for you to have sex, then I don’t want you to do it.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “That’s an excuse, Ivy, and not a good one.”
“What? No, it’s not. I just want us to be ourselves.”
“No, you don’t want to give up your sex addiction,” he said, glaring at me.
I flinched.
“They’re going to release you soon,” he said, and he sounded exhausted suddenly. “I know you don’t have a car anymore, because it’s been impounded for evidence. At any rate, it’s totaled. So, I was going to drive you back home. But, um…” He fidgeted. “I think it might be better if I called someone for you instead.”
“Miles, don’t be that way.” I reached for him.
He evaded me. “Is there someone I can call?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Crane was grinning at me. “I have a surprise for you in the car. So get your ass out of this wheelchair.”
“Hell, no,” I said. We were outside the hospital, in the parking lot. “You’re wheeling me right to the door. Come on. Curbside service.”
“What? No way. You can walk just fine. I’m not pushing you around.”
I folded my arms over my chest. “I’ve had a very, very bad day, Crane. The least you could do is facilitate a wheelchair ride for a friend.”
He chuckled. “All right. All right.” He went back around the wheelchair, grasped it from behind, and began pushing me over the pavement.
I leaned back and smiled at him. “Thank you. I very much appreciate it.”
“You look like death warmed over. That guy worked you over bad.”
“You are so complimentary.”
He laughed again. “Hey, uh, was that your ex back there? Is he the one who called me?”
I sighed. Maybe it was shitty of me to have Miles call my long-running fuck buddy to come get me. Maybe it was one of those bitchy things that I should never have done. After all, Miles was genuinely hurt, and I was kind of a lousy person in general.
But on the other hand, Miles was picking quite a time to throw a hissy fit about all of that.
He was the guy who couldn’t have sex, and he wanted to throw stones? Tell me I had an addiction? Be up on a high horse, like we weren’t both screwed up? I didn’t think so.
He deserved it.
Crane wheeled me up to the passenger side of his car. “You still see him sometimes?”
“Just for work stuff,” I said. “You know that. He sends me cases.”
“Yeah, the way you two look at each other, I can pretty much tell it’s not all about work.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “Things could never work between the two of us. Besides, would you be here if there was anything going on between Pike and me?”
Crane shrugged. “Guess not. But I gotta say, Ivy, if you’re—”
“You said something about a surprise, didn’t you? You gonna talk my ear off or you going to surprise me?”
“Okay, you win. No more talking about your ex.” He tugged open the door to the car and pulled out a six pack of Miller High Life. “For you, as a get-well-soon present. I think, if you’re very quick about it, you can get one down while I’m putting the wheelchair back.”
I snatched a beer. “Thank you, Crane. You know me so well.”
“Don’t think you’re drinking in the car while I’m driving, though,” he said. “So chug that.”
I got up out of the wheelchair, twisting off the cap of one of the bottles. I put it to my lips, let the cold, foamy liquid wash down my throat.
That was good.
All was right with the world. At least for that moment, anyway.
* * *
All was right with the world until the news stations got hold of the story, and then everyone wanted to interview me. After all, here was this serial killer who’d been terrorizing the people up and down the interstate, right under everyone’s noses, for years. No one had even noticed. Finding him and finding all the bodies started
a chain reaction to close tons of missing persons cases in at least five states, maybe more.
Back when I was a police detective, I never had to worry about the news trying to interview me. The higher-ups would deal with that, not me. And thus far in my career as a private detective, I’d never broken anything quite this big.
Brigit couldn’t understand why I hated it. She thought it was great. I deserved the attention after everything that I’d been through, according to her. Besides, it was good for business. Right after the news stories started going out, our phone started ringing off the hook—people wanting us to look into the disappearances of their loved ones, mostly.
It was going to be a busy season.
That was the way of things, though. Sometimes, business would be dead, but then it would pick up all at once, and I’d be buried under cases. I didn’t really mind that, though. I liked the money, and I liked to keep busy.
But I wasn’t crazy about the news interviews. They made me feel nervous, basically because I wasn’t in control of them. I didn’t know what the reporters might ask me, and I didn’t know how they might edit my words to make me sound like an idiot. Worst of all, I was afraid they’d drag up my past, and that I’d be in the middle of an interview about tracking down Ralph and someone would ask me about Melly the transcriptionist and her husband Frank, and what right I had to sleep with a married man and carry on the affair during work time. Surely I was aware that the police were public servants, and that I had wasted taxpayer’s money on my adulterous activities.
I waited for that question to come up in every interview I gave.
But it didn’t.
Either the reporters didn’t dig for it, or they didn’t think it meshed with the image of me they wanted to create.
All I knew was that I spent two weeks holding my breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. And when the interview requests finally died down, I finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Ralph was being held without bail. He was considered a flight risk, and besides, there was a metric ton of evidence against him. He wasn’t going anywhere. He was locked up tight, awaiting the first of many trials. The man would never see the light of day again.
Whatever the case, he was done with killing, and that was the important thing. I’d stopped a murderer from hurting anyone else. I’d made a difference. That felt good to me.
Skin and Blond Page 28
