Black Hearts: A Dark Captive Romance (Heartbreaker Book 3)

by Stella Hart

  “I had a little chat with Celeste the other day, and she brought up a good point. It’s been playing on my mind. How could your friends in the Circle be keeping such a close eye on her in recent times? They seemed to know what she’d been saying in therapy almost right away, given how quickly they made their move to get her. I always assumed they hacked the network and read all your notes. But she made me wonder if that could even be possible. Or if they were even aware she was in therapy. So then I figured someone close to her could be feeding them info. At first I thought maybe a friend of hers….” I trailed off and shook my head. “But that didn’t make sense. What’s the motive? And her other doctors… same there. All they knew about her was that she was in pain. They didn’t know exactly why. But you did, didn’t you?”

  Dr. Fitzgibbons’ eyes widened. “I.…” She faltered again, unable to complete whatever sentence she hoped to say.

  “So after all that, I got to wondering about you, Angela. You, the head of the mental health facility who miraculously had enough time to take on a brand new patient despite your hectic schedule. You, the first person Celeste told when the memories started returning. Also the one person who seemed to be purposefully delving deep into her psyche, trying to determine if, in fact, she remembered anything at all.”

  She gulped, her eyes never leaving the gun in my hand.

  “I think you recognized her name when Dr. Pompeo asked you for a referral, and you knew it could be John Riley’s daughter. You knew she might finally be remembering things, which in turn might be causing her nerve pain. So you decided to take the opportunity to see for yourself and give firsthand info to your friends in the Circle. Am I getting warm?”

  She nodded slowly. “Yes, but… you don’t understand. I’m not like them.”

  I sneered. “No, I understand perfectly. All those times I listened outside your office after Celeste’s sessions… I assumed you were making recordings of your notes. But then it struck me earlier today—there’s already a device in the therapy offices that records the whole session without you having to do anything. So you weren’t making recorded observations after her sessions. You were on the fucking phone. You were telling someone how it was going with her sessions, and whether or not she seemed to remember anything yet. I can’t believe it took this fucking long for it to occur to me, to be honest.”

  “Please. Can I sit down?” she mumbled. Her knees looked like they were about to give out.

  “Fine.” I waved her over to the sofa. “We’ll sit and talk. We have a lot to get through, after all.”

  My demeanor was still calm and collected, but somewhere inside, I was seething, picturing myself tearing open this woman’s chest. I’d never killed a woman before. The thought made me feel slightly unsettled, but given her involvement in Celeste’s troubles, I’d be happy to make an exception for her.

  I couldn’t touch her yet, though. She might be able to give me answers.

  “Tell me where she is,” I commanded, laying my gun on my lap, one hand remaining on it.

  “I don’t know.”

  I smiled. “Okay. I see how it is. But let me tell you something, Angela. You already know why I’m here. You know what I’ve done to those men in the past, and you know it will happen to you too. You know you won’t be getting out of this alive. But the thing is, I’m still not entirely sure how I feel about slicing up a woman, and I’ll also admit that I’m a little desperate today. I need answers. So I’m going to do you a huge favor.”

  Her eyes widened. “What?” she choked out.

  I held up the gun again. “Usually I’d spend hours cutting little pieces off you, drilling holes in you, or burning parts of you. But I’ll give you a choice. It’s either what I just described, or you give me information. If you choose to cooperate, I’ll give you this gun, and I’ll let you kill yourself. Quick and painless if you put the bullet in your head in the right place. So what’s it gonna be?”

  Tears filled her eyes. “Please,” she whispered. “Don’t kill me. I’m not like them. I don’t deserve to die.”

  I cocked my head to the side. “You said that earlier. What do you mean you aren’t like them?”

  She swallowed hard. “I don’t hurt children. I would never. And I don’t know anything about their inner workings. I’m not one of them.”

  “And yet you have their mark.” I pressed my lips together and nodded toward her left arm.

  She held up her hands again. “Please just… just let me explain,” she said, her voice cracking with fear.

  I shrugged. “Fine. I’ll give you three minutes.”

  She was quiet for a moment, seemingly gathering her thoughts. “They rescued me,” she finally said, staring over my shoulder into thin air. “They found me on the streets decades ago. I never had a chance in life, you know. I grew up in Wilkinsburg with two junkie parents. One left when I was thirteen, the other stayed but didn’t give a shit about me. There was no money. No hope. I finally dropped out of school when I was seventeen and started doing drugs as well. I sold myself on the streets to pay for it. I was headed toward doom. But then they took me away.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “And?”

  “They didn’t hurt me. They didn’t even touch me. Not like that. I was too old for their… tastes. But they said they would help me get my life together, get me off the drugs and get me an education. All I had to do in return was stay loyal to them and serve them by working at the mansion they’d just bought for their….” She cleared her throat. “Their purposes.”

  “Serve them how?”

  “As a maid, essentially. I had to help keep the place clean and the guards and kids fed. I also had to waitress at their bi-weekly parties. I wasn’t the only one. There were others, of course. But not all of them were as loyal as me. I was so dedicated because they helped me so much.” She shook her head slowly. “Without them I’d be dead today, no doubt about that. Probably would’ve overdosed twenty-five years ago. They got me clean, and when I wasn’t working for them, they made me finish my high school diploma via correspondence. With their help, I aced it. Turns out with the right guidance, I was a straight-A student.”

  “And they let you out after that?” I frowned.

  “I served them for seven years. They eventually realized how loyal I was, and after a while they no longer needed my services, as some of the kids had grown old enough to be servants instead of... well, what they previously were.”

  Sex slaves, you screwed-up bitch, I thought to myself, wishing she’d just fucking say it. If she did, maybe she’d finally start to feel guilty.

  “So the Circle made good on their promises,” she went on. “They let me go to college and paid for it in return for me still working for them on occasion, and when I graduated, I was allowed to move out of the mansion. They helped set up grad school and a career, organized a house for me, and sent lots of clients my way. Now I’m successful. I have everything I ever dreamed of. In return, all I had to do was stay silent. Keep their secrets. I also run the Youth Outreach program for at-risk kids at Morrison Wright, so occasionally I make… recommendations to them. Kids who wouldn’t be missed.”

  I tightened my hands into fists and wrinkled my nose in disgust. “So you’re another one of those. One of their peons who stays silent and helps them kidnap innocent children and teenagers in return for fucking money.”

  She shook her head. “No. It’s not just that. They helped me. They saved my life! And they help the kids there too.”

  I scoffed. This woman was truly delusional. “Are you kidding me? You’ve seen what happens to those kids!”

  “But they have a chance. They usually take runaways or at-risk kids from bad upbringings, like me. I know they hurt them. That’s how they get off. But if the kids are good, they have a chance to be like me one day. The Circle might do some messed up things, but they’re good people at heart. They care.”

  I shook my head. “Good people? Jesus Christ. You’re a fucking psychologist, and you don�
�t even seem to realize how far deep you’re in. Stockholm—that’s the term for it, right?”

  She narrowed her eyes indignantly. “I don’t have Stockholm syndrome. I’m just truly grateful to them. As I said, they saved my life.”

  “Well, let me ask you this: if they care about you so fucking much, where are they now? Why didn’t they let you know that they’re aware of my identity? Why didn’t they warn you?”

  Her expression wavered. “I… I’m sure they’ve just been busy trying to find you. They’ll contact me soon.”

  I smiled. “Sure they will. Except they’ve known who I am for at least two days now. That’s plenty of time for one of them to make a quick call to anyone who might be at a high risk. Like you, for instance, seeing as they must know that I know you were seeing Celeste. And yet, they didn’t say shit to you.”

  She gritted her teeth and didn’t respond, but from the haunted look in her eyes, I knew I’d struck a nerve.

  “Like I said: you aren’t getting out of this alive. You helped deliver Celeste to them, and as you just admitted, you’ve also helped them kidnap multiple children and teenagers in the past. Those kids were raped, branded, and tortured. Many of them were killed for insubordination, or simply because they got too old and refused to be mansion servants. You knew that would happen when you led them to those kids, and somewhere in that fucked up mind of yours, you had to know it was wrong. But you delivered them anyway. You’re a Circle member to the fucking bone, whether you want to admit it or not. And yet, they didn’t think of you the same way. They didn’t even think to warn you that I might be coming.” I tapped the gun on the coffee table. “So make your choice. Information and a quick death, or a slow, agonizing death. Entirely up to you.”

  Her cheeks reddened with anguish, and tears gathered in her eyes again. They mixed with her mascara and spilled down her flushed cheeks in dark rivulets. “I don’t know what to tell you,” she whispered. “Even if I wanted to, there’s nothing to tell. I’m not in the inner circle. I don’t know anything.”

  “Give me their contact details. I want names and phone numbers, or I cut off a finger. One for every minute you don’t answer.”

  The pink flush drained out of her face as she realized she was running out of time. She was white now, bone-white. Either her fear or her guilt had finally caught up with her. Perhaps both.

  “Okay, okay! Just wait, please!” She nodded toward a black purse on the other side of the coffee table. “My phone is in there. There’s a number under the name William. That’s what I use to contact the head of the Circle if necessary. But he uses a burner, and the number changes every month. You can have it, but they haven’t contacted me with this month’s number yet. So it probably won’t work.”

  “Give me full names, then,” I said as I busied myself with her cell, taking the number she had just in case.

  She shook her head. “I… I don’t know their full names. They never told me when I was there; they only gave me first names which might not have been real. And I probably wouldn’t even recognize them if I saw them now. It’s been almost two decades. The only contact we have is via telephone.”

  I wanted to fucking strangle her, but something in her eyes told me she was telling the truth. She really didn’t know their names.

  “Tell me where the mansion is. That’s all I really need to know.”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered.

  “You don’t fucking know?” I shouted. “You lived there for somewhere around a decade, and you don’t know?”

  She flinched and held her hands up in front of her in a protective gesture. “Please just listen! When they first took me, I was blindfolded and drugged. I didn’t see anything until we were inside the mansion.”

  I tapped the gun impatiently. “Still, you lived there. There must be something you can tell me.”

  She shook her head miserably. “I was never allowed outside, except into a greenhouse to get herbs and vegetables for meals. That was connected to the house, so I was never really outside, anyway. All I could see through the walls was that the mansion was red brick. And from being inside, I could tell it was old but expensive. Three stories.”

  “What could you see out of the windows when you were inside?”

  She shook her head slowly. “Land. Lots of green. Trees, grass, gardens. Fields stretching for miles.”

  “So it’s quite far out of the city.”

  “I think so. When I was ready to leave for good, they blindfolded me again, and they didn’t take it off until we were on the city outskirts. I’d say it took around forty minutes, going pretty slowly.”

  I sighed. Forty minutes from Pittsburgh—even at a relatively slow speed—could mean anywhere within a thirty to thirty-five mile radius. Maybe even more. That would take fucking forever to find, and I didn’t have that kind of time. I probably didn’t even have more than a few days.

  My insides turned to ice at the thought of what might be happening to Celeste while I sat here speaking to the therapist, getting fucking nowhere.

  “What else? Did you see any landmarks in the distance?”

  She shook her head. “Like I said, it was just trees and grass fields. Oh, and the road which led up to the gates. That’s it.”

  I twisted my watch round my wrist and clenched my jaw, beyond agitated with her lack of help. “What about the bricks? You said they were red. What sort of red?”

  “Light red. More like a salmon color, I suppose.” More tears spilled out over her cheeks, and she scrunched her face up with misery. She was an ugly crier. “Please, that’s all I know. I swear.”

  I pulled a skinning knife out of my left jacket pocket, tiring of her irritating sobs. “Think harder.”

  “I… there’s nothing….” She shook her head wildly.

  “Come on,” I said. “Do that trick you do with your patients. Concentrate on something calming and close your eyes. Try to remember something useful.”

  I knew she wouldn’t be able to fully calm herself while she was in my presence, but still, it might work somewhat.

  She did as I commanded and closed her eyes.

  “Pretend you’re back there. What do you remember when you were getting herbs? Or looking out the windows?”

  She was silent for a while, then opened her eyes again. “There was a fountain out the front, in the middle of a big lawn. You know, those big old fashioned marble fountains? There was a big crack in one side of the base. I remember not long before I left the place for good, a new girl arrived. She would sit at the window and stare out at that crack, and one time, she told me she thought if she wished hard enough, she could slip into the crack and disappear into another reality.”

  And that wasn’t a clue to her that the place was fucked up? Jesus. I stiffened and gritted my teeth. “What was that girl’s name? Was it Evangeline?”

  Her eyes widened. “How did you know that?”

  “Lucky guess,” I muttered. “Anything else you remember?”

  She shrugged listlessly. “The windows were white sash windows. That’s it, I swear. I don’t remember anything else that would help anyone find the mansion.”

  With a heavy sigh, I stood up. Going by what she told me, I’d probably be able to find the place, but it would likely take days if not weeks. My heart was heavy as I realized Celeste might be gone by then. I needed more fucking time.

  Still, Dr. Fitzgibbons had helped somewhat. At least I had something to go on now.

  I put the gun down on the table. “This is for you. There’s a silencer on it so the neighbors won’t suspect. And don’t bother trying to shoot me instead of yourself—I’ve got another one on me, and I’ll shoot you before you even pull the trigger if you aim it anywhere near me.”

  She shook her head. “Please, no,” she muttered, not meeting my eyes. “I’m not ready to go.”

  “Too bad. Unless you can tell me where they’ve taken Celeste, your time is up.”

  “No. Please. Have… have mercy,” she ba
bbled, black tears still slipping down her cheeks. “I’ll never tell the police or anyone else who you are if you let me live. I won’t tell the Circle you came to see me, either. I kept their secret for decades. I’ll keep yours too. I swear.”

  “No.” I narrowed my eyes. “You knew this would happen one day. All the lives you helped ruin, instead of save… you deserve this for what you did to them.”

  She began sobbing in earnest again, her shoulders slumping forward as she eyed the gun. Then she gingerly picked it up. With her eyes on me, obviously hoping I’d change my mind at the last second, she held it between her upper lip and the bottom of her nose.

  I nodded at her encouragingly. When she pulled the trigger in that spot, it would be quick and painless. The bullet would immediately tear right through to the brain stem, and with that part of her nervous system destroyed, she would be dead in an instant. Dead before she even hit the ground.

  “Wait.” She put the gun down.

  I crossed my arms. “I’m not fucking letting you go, so stop trying.”

  “No, it’s just… I thought of something that might help you find Celeste,” she said.

  “What?”

  “I remember hearing them talk sometimes. There was a place where the worst of them would take the kids for a week or so before they actually arrived at the mansion. A place where they could keep them away from everyone else while they.…” She hesitated.

  “Broke them?”

  She nodded. “Yes. And they’d also take others away from the mansion sometimes, to that same place. If they told you they were taking you there, it meant you weren’t coming back. Ever,” she said quietly, looking down at her lap. “It was the kids who refused to fully break, or the ones who tried to escape. Also the ones who refused to work for them once they got too old. I was just thinking… maybe they took Celeste there. It’s basically their killing grounds.”

  Roaring rage filled my head, but I let her go on.

  “I was good, so of course I never went there. And I wasn’t taken there at the start, either, because I was only ever taken to serve them as a maid. They didn’t need to break me down. All they had to do was wean me off the drugs and promise me a better life.”