by J. E. Taylor
Retrieving the papers off the printer, he slid them into his backpack, finally meeting Ted’s gaze. “Let’s go,” he said and crossed to the door.
“I gather you found what you wanted,” Ted said, following him out of the apartment building.
Steve uttered a high-pitched laugh. “You could say that.” He shuffled down the street with his head hung, deep in thought.
“Want to grab a bite to eat?”
“Sure,” Steve said, although that was the last thing on his mind. “Where?”
“There’s a great deli near the museum. We can grab something there and head back.” Ted steered Steve in the right direction. A few minutes later, they were standing in the Parkside Deli ordering lunch. “Are you going to show me what you found?”
“It’ll spoil your appetite.” He made no move to open the backpack. “What we did was breaking and entering. The evidence that I have is inadmissible in court.” He closed his eyes. “Fuck.”
“That bad?”
“Oh, yeah,” he said as their food arrived. He dug into his meal without further comment.
“You said this was personal. Who is this guy?” He took a bite of his corned beef Rueben.
Steve finished the roast beef sandwich and began to pick at the French fries on his plate. “He’s the brother of someone I killed in the line of duty and this guy is a crazy son of a bitch.” He popped another French fry in his mouth. “I needed something tangible to bring him down and I found enough proof to put him away for life. The only problem is how I obtained it. I wasn’t authorized to enter the apartment.”
Ted sat back. “What about me? I could say I got the information.”
Steve considered his comment. “I don’t want anyone to get burned by something I did.” He knew if the information leaked out, his friend would end up in Kyle’s crosshairs.
Ted glanced at his watch. “We should be heading back.” He stood, peeling off enough cash to cover the bill.
“At least let me buy lunch.” Steve reached for his wallet.
“No. A government salary doesn’t compare to what I bring in. Besides, you can return the favor when we get up in the air by showing me what you have in the backpack.”
Steve laughed. “You might wish I’d paid for lunch instead,” he said and they stepped out onto the street.
Chapter 69
Twilight descended over the city and he began to troll for women. Kyle found a young one that interested him and he followed her.
She entered a small house on the outskirts of town. He looked around; scoping the place out until he was sure she was alone.
Slipping around the back, he was able to shimmy the door open and enter by way of the kitchen. He grabbed the long butcher knife from the wooden base as he passed it, and hung his coat on the banister before climbing the steps to the second floor. He found her upstairs stepping out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her, vulnerable, just the way he liked them.
“Ciao, bella,” he whispered and stepped closer.
He reached for her, producing the knife from behind his back. “Come with me,” his finger beckoned her closer. “And I won’t hurt you.” The lie came easily and her eyes flashed between the knife, his finger and his smiling face as he scanned her with obvious appreciation. Her thin, tight body glistened with beads of water now mixed with perspiration. She reeked of fear.
His little Italian feast stepped toward him as he commanded and he wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her to him. “Beautiful girl, I am going to enjoy this so much!”
He rode her hard, relishing the sobs as her tender flesh tore under his sexual assault. Grabbing a handful of her hair, he yanked her to his chest and arched his full length in her. The wail that filled the bedroom cut off as he raked the knife across her throat. Blood soared through the air, splattering on the far wall. The pattern reminded him of a butterfly as he came with a moan that drowned out her last dying protests.
He held her in place as the last of his tremors subsided. When he dropped his arms to his side, the knife fell to the floor and her body flopped in slow motion onto the saturated bed. It bounced once and lay still, her cheek resting in a pool of her own blood. He pulled out of her lifeless body and headed into the bathroom to clean up.
Returning to the bedroom, he pulled out the small camera, taking the photographs, like all the others, one close up and one a panoramic view before he stripped off her pinky at the knuckle. This time, he left the pinky on the kitchen counter and washed his hands in the sink before leaving unnoticed.
He whistled all the way back to the hotel.
Chapter 70
Jennifer sat up in bed. The vision was still vivid and her breath hitched in her chest.
“Honey, are you all right?” Her mother sat on the edge of the bed, her gaze brimming with concern.
Jennifer nodded. “Just a nightmare.” She looked out at the twilight. “Steve isn’t back yet?”
Allison shook her head. “Not yet.” She wiped the hair out of Jennifer’s face. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes, Mom,” she answered, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and looking at the clock. Six. Damn. She smiled reassuringly at her mother and got out of bed, crossing to the bathroom to clean the coppery taste out of her mouth.
This time she saw his face and he was the spitting image of Charlie. Shaking her head, her brow knit together as she looked at the sink. The connection hit. Her knees wobbled under her weight and she caught herself on the counter.
Oh my god, Charlie’s brother is the Slasher.
Her wide green eyes stared back from the mirror. “God help us.”
Chapter 71
Kyle opened his email and read the note from his boss. Two words leaped from the page, making him smile. His new identity was now solid. Kyle Winslow would end up dead in a gutter in New York.
“Life is good.” Kyle leaned back in the seat and sighed.
He signed into each bank account and began the process of transferring funds to the corporation that would pay employee John Sheridan a grand monthly sum for consulting work until the account was depleted.
He’d have to make a quick stop at the apartment in New York to gather the personal mementos in his closet and make sure there was nothing that could point to John Sheridan as his next identity.
He had time to kill before the fashion show and needed to secure a gun from Landerfaulk for this evening’s festivities. Re-reading his instructions, he targeted the payphone location. After mapping out the quickest route, he threw on a pair of jeans and headed out. A few blocks away, he slid into the booth and dug into his pocket, pulling out a .50 Italian euro coin emblazed with the statue of Marcus Aurelius and dropped it in the coin slot. When the dial tone buzzed, he punched in a series of memorized numbers.
“Ciao,” the male voice answered.
“Is this Kent Landerfaulk?”
“Yes. Are you calling regarding the reception?”
“Not directly. You requested my services regarding your wife. Do you have a moment?”
“Yes, I’m in a position to give you information,” he said.
“I need to know if you own a gun,” Kyle asked.
“Si.”
“Can you get me the gun and a key to your house this evening prior to the show?”
“Si. I will make sure preparations are in order,” he paused. “Grazie.”
Kyle hung up and smiled. He enjoyed a quiet dinner and then headed back to the hotel where he changed into his tuxedo. Along with his hotel key and money clip, he slid a pair of latex gloves and his small digital camera into his pocket. On his way out the door, he grabbed the invitation that would grant him entry to the show.
Kyle strolled out of the hotel and hailed a cab, spouting off the address as the taxi pulled into the busy evening traffic. Twenty minutes later the cab pulled up behind the long line of town cars waiting to deposit their passengers at the fashion show entrance.
Kyle peeled off the fa
re, leaving a sizable tip so the cab driver would remember him, and waltzed into the venue as if he owned the place. He was greeted by Kent and Gigi Landerfaulk. The three of them disappeared into the back.
Gigi pressed him to buy the collection. “As I stated earlier, I need to see the merchandise before I make a decision.” He shook hands with Kent and bowed slightly to Gigi, leaving them to discuss his position without him in the room. He stepped into the men’s room and opened the paper Kent had slipped him. He glanced around until his gaze landed on the artifact Kent referred to in the note. The archaic and rusty lock reminded him of the bike lock he had as a kid, the kind with the cylinder of numbers that didn’t quite click right. He rubbed the tips of his fingers with his thumbs before lining up the combination. The loud click echoed in the empty bathroom and he did a quick scan, ducking to make sure no one was in the stalls before he lifted the top. The two items he’d asked for lay on the velvet interior. He pocketed the revolver and the house key, shutting the small box and shuffling the numbers again. After flushing the message down the toilet, he slipped back into the growing crowd, taking a seat near the back of the room.
Gigi found him a few minutes before the fashion show began. “Kent will draw up the paperwork after the show. The first two items of each line will be exclusively yours.”
Kyle nodded, but didn’t say anything.
Gigi lingered, looking him over.
“Is there anything else?” he asked, displaying a fraction of discomfort at her obvious ogling.
Gigi smiled. “You sure I can’t change your mind about a private party?”
“I’m sure,” he smiled. “Flattered, but sure.”
Gigi nodded. “In that case I will bid you goodnight. Arrivederci,” she whispered in his ear and slipped away.
The garment parade began and Kyle watched for a half hour, the exact timing of his detailed instructions, and then he slipped out unnoticed. The promised car sat unlocked in the back alley, and he slid into the seat, reaching under the carpet and finding the key.
Twenty minutes later, he parked behind a small shopping center a few blocks from the Landerfaulk’s home. Slipping on the gloves, he crossed the street, walking down the dark road to the back gate. The old rusty metal gave way under the pressure he applied and he stepped onto the plush carpet of grass, crossing the vast lawn. The car in the garage was still warm to the touch and he removed his hand from the hood, focusing on the interior door.
Cautiously, he crept into the house, pulling the gun from his pocket. The house was free of servants, as he had been told it would be. As he climbed the stairs, he could hear sounds of sex coming from the bedroom. He stopped in front of the cracked bedroom door. After checking the gun to make sure it was loaded, he flipped the safety off.
Kyle stepped into the room and approached the bed, unnoticed until he cleared his throat. He pointed the gun in their general direction and neither one of them moved. Their jaws hung open as they looked at him, still coupled.
“Don’t stop on my account,” he said, stepping closer to the bed.
“John, what are you doing here?” Gigi gasped.
Kyle smiled as he put the gun to the head of the man who was inside her. “Put your hands around her neck,” he said. The rush of the kill throbbed in his veins but he kept his voice calm and reasonable. When the poor slosh did nothing but shake, he added, “Or I will kill you right now.”
The click of hammer set the man in motion.
“Alessandro, no,” Gigi gasped as his hands clasped around her throat.
“Now I want you to fuck the life out of her.” Kyle smiled. “And then I’ll let you go. If you don’t, I’ll kill you slowly and painfully.” His tone was menacing enough that Alessandro squeezed her throat, cutting off her airway.
Gigi flailed her arms in an attempt to stop the vice grip on her esophagus. Her nails dug bloody tracks down Alessandro’s cheeks and arms.
“Don’t make me do this,” Alessandro said, turning to look at Kyle with eyes filled with tears and horror.
Kyle ignored his plea. “What did she promise you?” he asked, glancing down at her bulging eyes. “Money? Fame? Sex?” He laughed. “Love?”
Alessandro stopped moving. His hands still clasped around her throat, but they seemed to give enough for her to cough.
“Keep fucking her,” Kyle said and rubbed the barrel of the gun on Alessandro’s temple. Once his hips started moving again, Kyle said, “You’re the fifth or sixth stud she’s used and tossed away over the past few years. And make no mistake, that’s all you are—someone to scratch her itch.”
Alessandro’s features hardened and he shook his head, pausing again. His mouth opened to speak, but Kyle silenced him with a tap of the gun on the side of his head.
“Did you know she came on to me?” He leaned closer. “She wanted me with her tonight, not you.”
Alessandro’s hard expression morphed to anger. His cheeks flared red and his teeth clamped together. The movement of his hips increased as his hands squeezed her blue.
Gigi’s strength waned, her arms flailing less and less until they lay still on the bedding at their sides, but her eyes still held life. Life and terror. They traversed between Alessandro and Kyle, pleading, begging for this torture to stop.
When her eyes rolled back into her head, Alessandro slowed his pace.
“Keep fucking her,” Kyle snapped. “Until you come.” He ran the barrel down Alessandro’s spine, wedging it between his ass cheeks. “Or I’ll blow you a new hole.”
That was the motivation Alessandro needed. He renewed his hold on her throat, squeezing hard enough for the veins in his hands and forearms to pop to the surface. The whites of her eyes stood out against the blue-purple swelling of her oxygen-starved face. Her tongue lolled to the side like a limp rag, bouncing against her teeth with each vicious thrust. His hips pumped in a violent torrent of motion. Alessandro clamped his eyes closed and groaned a horrified wail of release until his shuddering aftershocks subsided.
He opened his eyes and looked to Kyle for further instruction, his hands still clamped in their death vice.
Kyle pressed his gloved fingers over her wrist looking for a trace of a pulse. Satisfied that she was indeed dead, Kyle focused on Alessandro. “Good job.”
He stared at her sightless eyes and removed his hands from her neck. The entire bed vibrated from the tremors now racking his form.
“I killed her,” he whispered, pulling out of her and crawling away from the lifeless blue face. His hands flew to his mouth.
“Yes, you did,” Kyle agreed. In one quick move, he pressed the gun to Alessandro’s temple and pulled the trigger. Alessandro fell to the side on the bed, his face still a mask of crumpled horror. Kyle put the gun into his hand, bringing the gun back up to his temple. He moved the hand slightly and shot the ceiling at an angle that would look like a secondary squeeze, leaving gunpowder on Alessandro’s fingers.
He stepped back and slid open the nightstand drawer in which the gun usually resided. Taking a moment to relish his work, he smiled and pulled his camera out, snapping off a few pictures for proof of job completion. All he needed was one, but the scene was so poetically horrifying that he snapped a couple more for his private collection.
Slipping the digital camera into his pocket, he turned and left the room.
Chapter 72
Steve arrived home a little after seven and smiled awkwardly at Jennifer and her parents. “Sorry I’m late.” He crossed the room, depositing the backpack in his office and closing the door. “I’ll get dinner started,” he said and caught a kiss from Jennifer on his way to the kitchen.
“What happened?” Jennifer asked, following him into the kitchen.
“We hit some weather down in southern New Hampshire and had to change our flight path.”
“Did you have a good time?”
Steve nodded, but didn’t turn around. He focused on getting dinner thrown together, trying to sort out his thoughts and neutralize
the fear lacing his arteries. “Yeah,” he finally said and began to chop up the tomatoes and onions, dropping them in the stir fry pan on the stove. “I’m just a little tired.” He looked over his shoulder at her and then went back to preparing dinner.
Steve leaned on the stove for a moment, the impact of his adventure finally taking its toll. He understood there would be an attack on his family if he didn’t find Kyle first. A brother with a grudge was one thing, but this man was a serial killer, not to mention a trained assassin, and Steve was more terrified now than he’d been when he saw the beast that clawed his chest to hell.
He took a deep breath and realized the conversation had stopped. Steve glanced over his shoulder and caught the three of them gazing in his direction. “What?” he asked, straightening up.
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m just exhausted,” he said. “It was great to see Ted, but flying around in a plane all day kind of takes the wind out of you.” He wrapped his arms around her waist. “How was Samantha today?”
“She’s doing great. The doctor thinks it might be a few more days before we can bring her home,” Jennifer replied.
The timer buzzed and Steve unclasped his arms, turning back toward the rice. He pushed away the images that kept flashing in his mind, ignoring them for the time being. He needed to feed his family and get his in-laws out of the house before he settled down in his office to analyze what he had gathered.
“Dinner is served,” he announced and formed a lackluster smile. It felt foreign on his lips, but he had to keep up the pretenses.
