by Stella Hart
My stomach lurched as I caught sight of what else was on the tray. Knives, pincers, some sort of power saw or grinder, thick metal rods, a Taser, a blowtorch. Terror made my throat close for a few seconds, so I couldn’t even scream as my new captor finally pulled the water bottle away.
“Good girl. Already keeping quiet,” he said. “Although you won’t be soon. Not that it matters.” He shrugged and glanced around us. “This whole house is soundproofed.”
“You… you guys soundproofed an entire mansion?” I said, finally finding my tongue.
He looked confused for a second, and then he laughed indulgently. “Oh, I see. You thought you were there.” He shook his head. “I didn’t take you to the mansion.”
“Then where am I?”
“You don’t need to know that. All you need to know is that I’m going to love having you here as my guest.” A nasty gleam entered his eyes as he spoke. I’d looked into those same eyes so many times before at the field office, and all I’d seen was a warm, familiar guy.
How could I not see how vile and toxic he really was? How could I be so blind?
“Why are you doing this to me?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Why am I doing this?” Dwyer cocked his head to the side, then scoffed. “You already know why. Your serial killer buddy told you the truth when he said we were after you. We’ve been looking for you ever since you revealed to your therapist that you’d started to remember things about us. Even though it was just the very beginnings of a memory, and you didn’t even know what you knew yet… we knew it was only a matter of time before it all came back. Before you threatened our existence.”
I closed my eyes as invisible waves of regret crashed over me again. Alex never lied, and I was stupid and undeserving of his protection.
“So you watched me all those years….”
“Yes.”
“Why not just kill me after my father was murdered? Or take me to the mansion to be one of your kiddy slaves like you were all planning to originally?” I asked in a halting voice. It was the same question I’d asked of Alex so many times when I refused to believe him.
He smiled. “Trust me, I wanted to. I voted to either kill you or kidnap you just to make sure you never talked. But most of our other members disagreed. They thought it would attract too much of the wrong kind of attention if you died or went missing right after John was killed. Your mother, too, although she was much easier to deal with. All we had to do with her was warn her that we’d hurt you if she ever said a word. And she never did.”
So Alex was right about all that as well—they hadn’t killed me or taken me to the mansion when I was a kid purely to save their own hides. It was too late for me to start listening to him now, though. Because of me, he’d either been arrested for his crimes, or worse, caught by the Circle. They must’ve wanted him even more than the police and FBI, because he’d threatened their lives for so long.
My mind raced as I tried to think of some argument, something to keep Dwyer talking. The longer I managed that, the longer I had before he began to hurt me.
“Surely after a while it didn’t matter,” I said, finally thinking of something to say. “It’s been fifteen years now, so you could’ve dealt with me even if I didn’t remember anything, just so you didn’t have to keep watching me. I mean, when I went missing because of Alex, the police just thought I ran away, and no one linked it to my father’s murder. Except West….”
Guilt and nausea roiled together in my guts at the thought of Jason West lying by the roadside, a bullet in his skull. All he ever did was search for me out of the goodness of his own heart, and Dwyer had secretly used him and then disposed of him once he’d led him right to me.
Dwyer narrowed his eyes. “Exactly. West. All it takes is one person digging into your disappearance. And look—he almost figured it out, didn’t he? He figured out that some sort of organization like us existed, and that was why the Heartbreaker was targeting us. ‘Course, he didn’t figure out all the details. Certainly didn’t figure out that I was actually a part of it. But still, he had a general picture, and he figured out enough to know you were very likely with our killer. Which meant he was only a few steps away from finding us.”
He fingered some of the knives on the tray, sending another bolt of fear through my veins. Then he went on. “That’s what we needed to avoid. Even one person digging. Besides, it wasn’t that hard to keep an eye on you, in the end. We’ve got the means and the manpower, and you never left the city. And why do you think you got that internship?”
My eyebrows creased together in confusion. “What?”
“Your FBI internship. You weren’t our first choice. That Bryce kid was. And for the second position, it was between you and five other candidates. Who do you think voted for you and insisted the spot be awarded to you?”
I bit my lip to stop myself from crying. For so long, I thought I’d worked hard enough at college to deserve the spot at the field office, when in reality, it could’ve gone to five others. I wasn’t special. Dwyer fought for me simply so he could keep an extra close eye on me.
“Why can’t you just shoot me if you all want me out of the picture? Why drag it out?” My eyes fell on the knives and other torture instruments again as I spoke, my voice a ragged murmur now.
For a fleeting moment, I thought he was actually going to do exactly what I said. He forced my mouth open with his fingers and stuck his pistol right inside my mouth, almost knocking out several of my teeth with the cold steel of the barrel. My eyes widened with terror, and I waited for the sound of the shot that would end my life. At least it would be quick…
“That would be the smart thing, yes. It’s exactly what I was told to do by the others once I had you. Shoot you immediately, and make it look like a suicide. I’m even meant to make you write a note to dump with your body, just in case anyone ever questions it.”
I shivered at the thought of everyone I knew thinking I’d run away and eventually killed myself. But Dwyer was right—it had to be that way. If anyone thought there was something weird or mysterious about my death, then they might start digging, which in turn threatened the Circle. They’d never allow that.
“But… that’s just not any fun, is it?” Dwyer went on. “And after everything I went through to get you—everything the others couldn’t pull off themselves once you vanished—I think I deserve some fun. You’re a bit older than my usual type, but I’m sure I’ll still enjoy it.”
He pulled the gun out of my mouth and set it down on the tray. I gasped for air, my whole body quivering as I tried not to picture his idea of ‘fun’.
“Also,” he added, slowly drawing the word out. “There’s a few loose ends we need to tie up before we get rid of you for good and convince everyone you offed yourself.”
“Like what?” I choked out.
“Well, for starters, you didn’t just tell your therapist what you remembered. West found out that you told someone else. A friend.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I didn’t.”
“Liar.” He smiled and picked up the Taser from the tray and held it toward me before clicking a button on it. There was a split second where nothing happened, and then two electroshock connectors flew toward my chest.
I felt my body immediately stiffen like a board as every muscle in my body locked up at once. Then I began to jolt and spasm, the pain hitting me at the same time. It felt like someone was stabbing at me with hot knitting needles, and I tried to scream, but nothing came out except a low grunting sound.
Finally, it was over, and I gasped for air again, grateful that the pain had subsided as soon as Dwyer turned the Taser off.
“Your friend’s name is Samara. I know that much already. Tell me what you told her.”
I shook my head wildly. “She doesn’t know anything! Please! I’m not lying. All I ever said to her was that I was starting to remember something and having weird dreams. But I had no idea what was actually happening. It’s
like what you said before—I didn’t even know what I was remembering!”
He shrugged. “Hm. That might be true, but she’s still a loose end. Now that West is gone, she’ll probably find someone else to harass into digging around.”
I gritted my teeth. “If you know who she is, then you don’t need any information from me. I’d never tell you anyway.”
He zapped me with the Taser for another few seconds. I shook and convulsed, the pain shooting up my spine, finding new and unexpected places to torment me.
Dwyer watched impassively, then shut it off again. “All I know is her first name. I never caught her last name when West talked about her, and she wasn’t marked down in our records as an official visitor with an appointment when she first came into the office to speak with him. And remember, he wasn’t supposed to be looking into your disappearance, so he was careful not to leave a paper trail of any kind. He stored almost everything up here.” He tapped on the side of his head. “Unfortunately, his ‘up here’ is sprayed all over the edge of some road in the middle of nowhere.”
“You’re disgusting,” I whispered.
He sighed, ignoring my jab for now. “An unfortunate oversight on my behalf. I really should’ve asked him before I.…” He trailed off, miming a gun at his own head, and then an explosion.
I glared at him, wishing my eyes could shoot annihilating lasers. “I’ll never tell you anything, you sick fuck.”
He shook his head. “You’ll only delay your demise. I’ll have to hurt you more than I already planned to.”
“Fine,” I whispered.
I didn’t tell him the obvious. If he wanted to know who Samara was so badly, he could just find my social media profiles and search through my friends list to find her last name. But he was in his late fifties or early sixties and likely not very social media savvy, so it must not have occurred to him that such a thing was possible.
I wanted so badly to smile at my tiny victory over him, but the feeling immediately faded. The Circle employed younger guys as their henchmen or guards. Like Dan. Eventually, one of them might suggest the idea. Or perhaps the Circle itself had members who were younger or more internet savvy than Dwyer.
Ultimately, they’d find Samara one way or another, and she’d become yet another innocent victim. Another casualty. The thought made me want to tear my own hair out with guilt.
“Give me her full name and address,” Dwyer commanded. “Or I’ll melt out one of your eyeballs. That won’t make anyone suspicious once your body is finally found by hikers in a forest somewhere, because everyone knows animals like to pick at corpses. Especially the eyes.”
He picked up the blowtorch, and I began to cry hot tears of fear. Still, I didn’t budge. “No,” I hissed, bracing myself for the pain.
Before Dwyer could do anything, something beeped in his pocket. Sighing, he put the blowtorch down and checked his phone. “You’re lucky,” he muttered. “Saved by the bell. I have to get to work and put on a friendly face to the world.”
I swallowed hard, thanking my lucky stars. I wouldn’t have them to thank for too much longer, though. Work would be over in a few hours, and Dwyer would be back here, burning me, beating me, raping me. Eventually, he’d kill me.
He uncuffed my hands and feet, then yanked me off the table. “Get over in the corner,” he said, gesturing toward a bucket. Next to it, there was a packet of white paper napkins.
I was confused for a second, but then it hit me. He wanted me to use the bucket so that I didn’t wet myself while I lay restrained on the table. That would make his ‘fun’ less enjoyable.
His upper lip curled in disgust as I dropped my pants and squatted over the bucket, and he turned away and faced the door while he waited for me to relieve myself. I didn’t even feel like I needed to go that badly, but I forced myself to pee anyway, knowing it would be the only chance I got for at least eight more hours.
After I’d wiped myself off and zipped my pants up, Dwyer restrained me again. Then he left the room, slamming the door behind him.
With tears running down my face, I pictured Alex. I closed my eyes and imagined that this was all some horrible nightmare, and he was right next to me in bed. When I woke up, he would wrap me in his arms and kiss my head, telling me it wasn’t real. He would chase all my demons away and keep me safe forever, just like he always promised. I could almost feel him, smell him, taste him… but then I opened my eyes again.
He wasn’t here. He wasn’t coming to help me, either.
No one was.
3
Alex
It was a little after two in the afternoon. Nineteen hours since I lost Celeste. I was parked outside her therapist’s house in Shadyside, waiting for her to return home. I’d tried to get to her earlier, but apparently she’d been at some conference in New York, and she wasn’t due back till this afternoon.
I hated waiting so long for her, but at the same time, I was grateful she was returning today and not sometime later in the week, or worse, next week.
Ten minutes later, I saw an Uber drop Dr. Fitzgibbons off, and I watched as she stepped up to her door and let herself in.
I waited a few more minutes so that it wouldn’t seem as if I’d been sitting outside waiting for her like a crazed stalker. Then I walked up to her door and knocked.
On the outside, I was calm and focused. On the inside, my guts were knotted with a mixture of feverish fear and roaring rage.
She answered the door on my third knock. Judging by the lines around her eyes and lips, I put her age at somewhere in the early forties. She was clad in expensive-looking gray pants, a long black wraparound coat, and a matching black and gray scarf. As for me, I’d lost the blond wig and contacts for now, because I wanted her to recognize me.
“Can I help you?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. I could tell that I was familiar to her, but she couldn’t quite place me.
I affected a genial smile, turning on the charm at full force. “Hi, Dr. Fitzgibbons. I’m Alex Magnusson. We’ve never officially met, but we both work at Morrison Wright. I think we’ve seen each other around on occasion.”
Her face fell with relief as she realized I wasn’t here to try and sign her up to something or sell a product to her. “Oh, of course. I was wondering why you looked a bit familiar.”
“I’m so sorry to bother you at home like this, but I was wondering if you had time to discuss a patient of mine. I’m concerned about some… delicate psychological issues, and time is of the essence. I looked into it, and I think she used to see you.”
She smiled. “I was just about to make some coffee. Come in and we’ll talk.”
“Thanks so much.”
I followed her inside and waited while she busied herself in the kitchen. She returned with a pot of coffee and two mugs and set them down on a coffee table in her lounge room. “Take a seat,” she said, waving at one of two black leather sofas. “I’ll just get some cream.”
I remained standing.
“Horrible weather we’re having, isn’t it?” she called out from the kitchen, trying to make small talk.
I rolled my eyes. “Sure is. Hasn’t stopped raining for two days now. But it’s nearly winter. What do we expect, really?” I said, returning the civil gesture. Had to keep up appearances for at least a few more seconds.
She laughed. “That’s true. Anyway, who is the patient you’ve been seeing?” she said as she came out of the kitchen with a small white ceramic jug in one hand.
“Well, she’s not so much of a patient… more like someone I love and care about very deeply. You see, she was taken from me two days ago.”
Two lines appeared between her eyebrows, but she kept smiling, albeit in a confused, overly-polite manner. “I don’t understand.”
“Her name is Celeste Riley.”
Her smile faltered, and she dropped the jug. It shattered on the polished floorboards, and cream sprayed all over the floor and up the side of the sofa she was standing beside. “Oh. I…
I’m sorry. I’m so clumsy. Let me just… I’ll go get something to clean it up.”
“Stay. I’ll have black coffee.”
Her eyes darted nervously to the door. “No, I should clean up this mess. It’ll only take a minute.”
I steeled my jaw and pulled out my pistol. “I said we’ll have our coffee black.”
She began to tremble immediately and held her hands up, palms facing me. “What is this?” she whispered.
“Celeste was your patient, wasn’t she?”
She gulped, then nodded. “Yes, but she went missing. I spoke to the FBI about it. I swear, I don’t know anything.”
My face twisted into a grimace. “Something tells me that’s not true. Take your coat off.”
She shook her head. “Please, no….”
I scoffed and waved the gun. “I don’t want to rape you. I just want to see something. Take it off.”
With shaking hands, she slowly removed her thick black coat. Underneath, she was wearing a cream-colored blouse with short sleeves. I took a few steps closer to her, then grabbed her left arm and twisted it so that her inner upper arm was exposed. “I thought so,” I said softly as I stared down at the tiny black tattoo that marred her skin. “The old double circle.”
I dropped her arm, and she began to quiver even more, her whole body wracked with terror. “You’re him, aren’t you?” she asked, eyes bulging.
I nodded. “I am.”
My upper lip curled as she pissed herself with terror, leaking all over the front of her gray pants. She didn’t even try to run. She knew she was fucked, and she was paralyzed with fear.
“It’s a shame your buddies from the Circle didn’t warn you. They’re onto me, you know. They know exactly who I am,” I commented breezily. “Lucky for me, though.”
She shook her head, as if she couldn’t believe she was actually face-to-face with the serial murderer who’d targeted her and her friends for over a decade now. “How… how did you know who I was?” she whispered.
