by J. E. Taylor
Jack reached in his pocket and pulled out a plane ticket. “Today,” he said, slipping the paperwork into Steve’s hand. “Go pack.”
Chapter 9
With his bags already packed and in the trunk of the car, he headed up to the third floor ICU. He gave the nurse a nod and slipped into the room, sitting in the vacant seat by the side of the bed and taking her pallid hand in his.
“Jack says I have to go to Quantico,” he said and closed his eyes.
Jennifer jumped to her feet. “You can’t leave me!”
“I don’t want to go, but if I don’t, I’ll lose my job.” Steve dipped his head, struggling with the internal war—one side yanking him toward his job, his duty and the other grounding him to the spot next to Jennifer. He knew Kyle planned to destroy him and it was more than personal now. Nothing was off limits. Not even his comatose wife.
“Please, Steve, don’t go. He’ll come back. He’ll hurt me, again.”
Steve glanced at his wrist. He had to get moving if he had any hope of catching the plane. He stood and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I promise I’ll be here as soon as I can if you wake up. I love you,” he said and turned, leaving the room without a glance back.
“No!” Jennifer screamed and lunged, her hands passing right through him. She crumpled to the ground at the entrance to her room, unable to break from her prison.
Chapter 10
Kyle stood in the shadows, his eyes flickering between his watch and the door to Jennifer’s room. The schedule was always the same, twice a night the nurse checked her wards, once around midnight and again just before six in the morning. The remainder of the time she parked herself behind the counter with her face buried in a book.
Just like clockwork, the nurse left Jennifer’s hospital room.
He waited until she turned the corner, and then shot into Jennifer’s room. The white lab coat and stethoscope hanging from his neck were just for show. For the past six months, no one blinked an eye as he walked through the halls of Brooksfield Hospital.
“No. Not again. You fucking bastard!” Jennifer charged, passing right through him and she let out a guttural roar of frustration, helpless to stop whatever he had planned. She was as helpless as she had been in the cabin and she trembled with rage.
He crossed to the bathroom, pushing the door open to make sure she was truly alone. Empty. A slow evil grin surfaced and he slid to the blinds, twisting the rod, shutting out the hallway like he did every time he visited. It was a little after one in the morning as he slunk across the room to her side.
Kyle ran the back of his hand against her hollow cheek and leaned close to her ear. “Hello, again.”
“Get away from me!”
No indication of a response displayed on either the brain or the heart monitors and Kyle chuckled. He mounted the small recording device on the headboard, setting it to a wide-angle view before pulling the blankets down to Jennifer’s knobby knees. He pushed her hospital gown up revealing her emaciated body and the hospital issued adult diaper swaddled around her. He undid the bulky fabric, tossing the dry material aside as he ran his hands over her body, pushing her legs wide to the point her calves dangled off each side of the slim hospital bed.
Jennifer covered her face, willing herself not to look at the brutality of the sick bastard who ruined their lives. The violation of her body reached her soul, leaving her spirit aching for revenge. Desperation and hate filled every fiber and she looked up at the creak of the bed, watching in horror, unable to tear her gaze away from the assault.
Kyle climbed between her legs, careful not to dislodge any of the monitor pads as he fondled her unconscious body, defiling her in every way possible. His body throbbed and pulsed with the pent up need to hear her scream, the violation empty, unsatisfying, without her cries of pain.
“I hate you!” she screamed, her entire form shaking with indignity. Sobs ripped from her chest, echoing in the empty chamber between life and death, falling like dust particles from a windblown chimney.
Before he slid off the bed, he jerked off between her slack lips and then clamped her mouth shut, tilting her head back and rubbing her throat like a dog that needed to swallow a pill. The reflex kicked in and her throat muscles contracted and relaxed in succession, forcing ingestion.
“That a girl,” he said, hopping off the bed and zipping his pants. He unclipped the recording device, sliding it into his pocket next to his camera.
A small dribble ran from the corner of her mouth, intriguing him. He slipped the camera out of his pocket and took a close up of her face. Stepping back, he snapped another picture of her spread out on the bed before he put her back together in the position she was when he came into the room.
“I’ll be back in a few weeks,” he whispered and licked the side of her face. Not even a hint of salty sweat. He stood, studying her. This wasn’t enough and he knew it. He wanted her crying in pain and shaking under his assault. Her blood spattered on the wall, gurgling, choking, while he fucked her to death.
And he wanted Steve to watch.
Chapter 11
Jennifer sat on the floor in the hospital room, her arms clutching her knees as she rocked. Tears ran hot down her ghost-like cheeks and she stared at the form on the bed, willing her body and spirit to synch again.
Willing herself out of this nightmare.
But nothing happened.
She lowered her head, resting it on her knees in defeat.
“Why?” The question fell from her lips and she loathed the pathetic whine in her voice.
With every carnal visit of Kyle’s, she lost a piece of her soul and what replaced it was a blackened carcass filled with hate.
The same hatred she saw in Steve’s eyes every time he spoke of hunting down the bastard and ripping him to shreds. If Steve ever found out what Kyle was doing, he would throw away his entire career for a chance at payback.
She wiped her face and stood, crossing to her catatonic form. The line on the brainwave monitor ran straight across the middle of the screen.
“Flat line. Great. Just great. You know why it’s flat lining?” she asked her still body. “It’s because you don’t have the foggiest clue of how to get back.”
Every day for the past six months, she tried to reunite with her own skin, but each and every attempt failed.
The longer she stayed detached, the more impossible it seemed to reach the real world. The prospect of living like a ghost for the rest of her life left her miserable, frustrated, and downright horrified.
Chapter 12
Steve stretched in the balmy Virginia air, stifling a yawn. “I forgot how nice it is down here.”
“It’s hit or miss this time of year.” Jack pointed out, popping the trunk of the Explorer.
Steve glanced at him, grabbing his suitcase. “It’s still a far cry from New Hampshire.” A sideways smile accompanied the comment. “Where to?”
“This way.” Jack led Steve to the third floor of the dormitory. He swung open the fourth door on the right and waved him in.
A student, fresh out of college, sat behind one of the desks clicking away on his laptop. He closed the computer and stood as they entered the room.
Steve scrunched his eyebrows, the kid looked familiar, something about his multi-colored eyes triggered his memory, and the information flooded into the forefront of his mind. His eyes widened a fraction and his brow smoothed out. New York City. About five years back. A psycho attacked his family in one of the warehouses on the river. The news stories on that event rivaled his own.
“Eric, Eric Connor.” He reached his hand toward Steve.
“Steve Williams. Glad to meet you.” Steve swung his suitcase onto the bed before trading handshakes with Eric.
“Thanks. I can take it from here,” Eric said to Jack.
Jack nodded and took a step toward the door.
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Yes, you do. He’s your new partner.” Jack pointed his thumb at E
ric. “He’s the best to come along since you graced these halls, maybe even better.”
Steve scoffed. “I thought you were my partner.”
“I was never your partner, Steve.” Jack turned and left.
Steve sat on the edge of the bed, abandoned. He glanced at Eric. “I don’t need a fucking babysitter,” he repeated.
“No, sir.”
Steve looked the kid over. “Bet you never thought you’d end up with a crazy freak as a partner,” he said after a few minutes.
“Bet you never thought you’d have a smartass kid as one,” Eric volleyed back.
Steve chuckled. Kid’s not half-bad.
“Seriously, I’ve seen your file. You’re a hell of an agent.”
“Bet your ass I am.” He unpacked his clothes.
“I was sorry to hear about your daughter,” Eric added, shifting uncomfortably. “I know what it’s like to lose someone close.”
Steve paused, glancing over his shoulder. Bullshit. Tell me that when you’ve lost your only child. He slightly nodded and returned his attention to his half-empty suitcase.
“I guess losing a sister isn’t the same as losing a child though... but...” He trailed off and shrugged.
Steve hesitated and went back to unpacking. “So you really think I’m a crazy freak?” he asked as he pushed the last drawer closed.
“No,” Eric answered. “You’re not a freak,” he clarified with a smile.
“You’re a smart ass,” Steve answered.
“Always have been. Drives my parent’s crazy,” he grinned.
Steve took a seat on the edge of the bed observing Eric. “What exactly did they tell you about me?”
“I have your file, including the psych evaluation.”
Steve remained calm on the exterior but his heart jumped like a tazer shot. What the fuck happened to doctor-patient confidentiality?
Eric chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“Doctor patient-confidentiality, I don’t think it applies to FBI sponsored shrinks.”
Steve creased his brow, his instinct flaring. You reading my mind? The thought leapt into his gut so quickly he trusted it.
“I wouldn’t know about that, I’ve never been considered an unstable risk.” Eric made little quotations with his fingers as he said unstable risk, quoting the evaluation and side stepping the unspoken question.
“Fuck you.” Steve stood up and crossed the room to the door. If you saw the things I’ve seen...
“What the fuck do you mean if you saw the things I’ve seen? You don’t know what I’ve seen, so don’t give me that bullshit!”
Steve stopped with his hand on the doorknob. I didn’t say that aloud. He slowly turned toward his new partner. “Does Jack know?”
“Does Jack know what?” Eric asked with wide eyes.
“That you can read minds.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
Steve smiled. “If you’re gonna work undercover, you damn well need to lie better than that.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about?”
Steve changed tactics. “My wife used to be able to tell I was lying a mile away even when no one else could.” I’ll have to do some background checks on this one.
“My background is clean,” Eric blurted.
“Yeah, right.” Steve studied Eric. The kid shifted restlessly, trying to steady his nervous energy. “So, back to my original question, does Jack know?”
Eric met Steve’s sharp gaze and shook his head. “No one knows.”
“I’ll be damned.” Steve dropped his hand from the doorknob. This could be his golden opportunity to find Kyle and he raised an eyebrow to the possibilities.
“I won’t help you kill anyone.”
Steve took in a breath. “You don’t have to; you just need to help me find him.”
Eric shook his head. “I swore to uphold the law.”
He glanced at Eric and his eyes narrowed, his mind flowing over their short conversation. What are you hiding?
“I’m not hiding anything.”
Steve’s mind went off like prisms of light shooting in several different directions, assembling the information he just received into a coherent jumble of thoughts. If the kid is clean, it must be something else.
Eric’s eyebrows creased.
Family.
The click in his mind almost audible and Eric’s eyes went a fraction wider.
Something about his family. He smiled at the reaction. “So you might not have background issues, but your family does.”
“I need to get to the shooting range.” Eric looked at his watch, sidestepping the conversation again. He headed toward the door and Steve grabbed his arm.
Steve found himself slammed face first against the door, his arm protesting with a flare of pain as it twisted behind his back.
“My stepfather is a third degree black belt and taught me everything he knows,” Eric said in his ear. “So, please, don’t fuck around with me.” He let go and stepped back.
Eric thudded on the floor from the sweep Steve executed.
“I actually earned my black belts, so don’t ever try that again.”
“God damn, you’re fast,” Eric said looking up in awe from his vantage point on the floor.
“Why do you want to be my partner?” he asked, looming over Eric.
“I didn’t have a choice,” he replied. “Agent Murphy ordered me to.”
Steve laughed. “Do you do everything you’re ordered to?”
“Yeah. Don’t you?” Eric replied, put off by Steve’s laughter.
“Not always.” Steve shrugged and the smile faded. He had broken the rules a time or two and skirted by without reprimand. “You realize I’m your senior officer.”
It was Eric’s turn to laugh. “Not,” he said and headed out of the room.
Chapter 13
Steve walked out of the bathroom naked and dripping wet and crossed to his room, ignoring the stares of his classmates. He swung the door open, glaring at Eric, who was sitting behind the desk with a grin playing on his lips.
“Forget something?” Eric asked, nodding toward the bed where he had tossed Steve’s clothes and towel.
“You are such an asshole.” The door slammed behind him and he crossed the room, ripping the towel from its resting place. He dried the water off his body, muttering under his breath all the while his roommate chuckled from behind the computer.
“Aw, c’mon, you don’t find that the least bit amusing?”
Steve shot a glare his way.
“I’m sure the women were digging it,” Eric pushed. The floor they were on was co-ed.
Steve scoffed, snorting air through his nose. “Yeah, right,” he muttered, pulling his clothes on.
Eric glanced back at the computer, looking over Steve’s case file again. Steve was brilliant. He cracked the handful of assigned cases much faster than the norm. Even the case he met his wife on wrapped up within two months of his arrival. Of course, that was as far from a normal case as you could get. Steve claimed the thing stalking Brooksfield wasn’t a human and if it hadn’t been for Jennifer’s testimony, they might have admitted him to the loony bin. The psych file notes stated Steve must have been hallucinating during the ordeal, but Eric knew better. He had seen the thing in Steve’s mind and it was evil.
Eric looked up.
Steve stood over the computer staring down at him.
“What?”
Steve pointed. “One of these days.”
Eric broke out into a wide grin. “You just try your best old man, but I can see you coming a mile away.” He leaned back in the chair, his multi-colored eyes sparkling.
Steve clamped his teeth together. “Fuck!” He swung around and stormed out of the room because Eric was dead on. He thwarted all of his attempts at practical jokes, taunting him every time. The kid had even sent their instructor into the room after Steve hung a bucket of water over the door. Needless to say, the instructor didn’t
take kindly to being doused. The reaming he got for that attempt was infamous.
Steve parked himself on the front steps scanning the campus and shaking his head, a smirk making a brief appearance. Eric got him good this time, he hadn’t even heard him slip into the shower stall and snatch the clothes off the bench and he was usually so in tune with what was happening around him.
How could he pay him back for this latest stunt?
If I had access to a kitchen... He raised an eyebrow. Ex-lax brownies might be fun. The edges of his lips twitched and he shook his head.
Nah, Eric would know and I’d probably be the one to end up with the shits. The sigh escaped. No matter what I dream up, Eric will know.
“Yep.”
He turned and Eric took a seat next to him. “Yep, what?”
“I would know.”
“Get out of my head,” Steve whispered, shooting him a glare.
Eric laughed. “C’mon, it’s like watching a freak show, disturbing, yet undeniably entertaining.”
“Fuck you, Connor.”
“Nah, you’re not my type.”
“How the hell did your parents deal with you for twenty-three years?”
Eric shrugged. “They passed me back and forth whenever they couldn’t stand it anymore.” He winked.
“Did that bother you?”
Eric glanced sideways. It was the first time Steve had shown any real interest in his life beyond razzing him. “Sometimes,” he answered and inspected his fingernails. “How much do you know about me?”
“I know about New York.”
Eric nodded. “Do you know who my mother is?”
Steve’s eyebrows creased. The particulars of the New York case surfaced again and he scanned the information like it was laid out on paper in front of him. Pictures, police reports, notes, but nothing beyond the fact that Eric’s stepfather was filthy rich jumped out. He slowly shook his head.
“She was one of two survivors of the Aris family.”
Steve’s head snapped in Eric’s direction, his eyes pulsing in their sockets. That name carried notoriety. It was also a case analyzed at Quantico. At least it was on his first go round.
