MANHUNT (Manhunt - a romantic suspense collection)

by Rita Herron

  “We just heard from Simpleton. I need you to trace a call for me.” He gave the tech Lenora’s number and the time of the call then waited.

  Lenora rose from the chaise, walked to the edge of the terrace and looked out over the woods. Her tormented expression bothered him. She was still blaming herself. Reliving what Simpleton had done to her because she thought her friend was being abused in the same way now.

  He cursed beneath his breath, hating the helpless feeling engulfing him. The sicko never should have seen the light of day again.

  Seconds later, the tech came back on the line. “Sorry. The caller used a burner cell.”

  Dammit. “Keep a trace on Lenora’s phone in case he calls back. Maybe if we record it, we’ll hear something in the background.” Micah’s mind raced. “Also, search for small private airfields outside Austin. Send the coordinates to me and send a tech team to Nan Purcell’s house.”

  “I’ll get right on it.”

  Micah hung up, then walked over to Lenora. “Come on, let’s shower and get coffee. We’ll meet the crime team at Nan’s place in case Simpleton left a clue there for us.”

  Her eyes widened. “You think he’d do that intentionally?”

  “He wants you,” Micah said, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “He’s either going to ambush us or leave you bread crumbs so you’ll come to him.”

  LENORA HADN’T CONSIDERED THAT SIMPLETON WOULD TRY TO

  lead her to him. But she hoped he did. Then she and Micah could make him pay for kidnapping her friend.

  Nan…God help her. Would she survive?

  She forced her mind away from the dark path and darted into the bedroom, then into the bath to shower. But the disturbing thoughts returned as the hot water pummeled her.

  Memories of Simpleton’s hands on her, his rough nails clawing at her as he pushed her legs apart and shoved himself inside her. His rancid breath on her skin when he’d ordered her to lie on her stomach or drop to her knees…

  The old familiar dirty feeling haunted her. Her obsession with scrubbing herself took a life if its own, and she found herself vigorously washing and scrubbing her chest, determined to make that hideous X disappear forever.

  But as the water cooled, and she finally turned off the faucet and dried her body, the X remained. The plastic surgeon her mother had hired had smoothed over the torn jagged skin, had insisted it was invisible now.

  But she could see it. It would always be with her. Always be a reminder that she was battered and damaged. That she would never be whole again.

  Especially not when he was out there, torturing her friend, and waiting to finish her.

  MICAH PHONED LT. ROPER AND RELAYED THE NEWS ABOUT NAN Purcell as he and Lenora drove toward the woman’s home. “We need to get a photo of her out to the press and across the police databases ASAP.”

  “I’ll pull her driver’s license picture,” Lt. Roper said. “How’s Lenora taking it?”

  “How do you think?” Micah said. “The monster abducted her friend to punish her.”

  “We’ll get him,” Lt. Roper said.

  But when? And would they locate him before he tortured Nan?

  “Lenora thought she heard a small plane in the background when Nan called,” Micah said. “I asked tech to send me a list and coordinates of any small airfields outside Austin.”

  “We’ll start looking for cabins or houses that are abandoned or in isolated areas, too. We know how Simpleton thinks. He’ll take the victims some place off the grid.”

  So no one could hear the women scream.

  “Send me whatever you get. We’re on our way to Nan’s now. Maybe a neighbor saw something.”

  “Keep me posted,” his boss said.

  Micah pocketed his phone, and Lenora twisted her hands in her lap. “I haven’t seen or talked to Nan in years,” she said in a pained voice. “We lost touch after the trial.”

  When Lenora had needed her most. Lenora must have felt abandoned.

  “Simpleton may not know that,” he said. “He probably saw her at the trial and knew you two were close.”

  “Nan couldn’t handle hearing details about what happened to me,” Lenora said. “Even if he doesn’t kill her, I don’t know if she’ll survive emotionally.”

  Micah squeezed her hand. “Maybe we’ll find her before he hurts her.”

  Lenora’s face grew strained as if she wanted to latch onto the hope he offered, but she couldn’t. She wasn’t a naïve young girl. Simpleton had robbed any innocence from her and shown her the darkest side of mankind.

  And Simpleton had already traumatized Nan by kidnapping her.

  Micah turned down the drive to Nan’s place, noting the neatly kept lawns and expensive cars in the drive.

  “Have you been to Nan’s house?” Micah asked.

  Lenora shook her head. “She used to live in an apartment. It looks like she’s done well for herself.”

  “What does she do for a living?”

  “She’s a financial planner, always planning for the future.” Her voice cracked. “A future she might not have now because of me.”

  “Not because of you,” Micah said firmly. “Because a sick, twisted murderer escaped from prison.”

  “I appreciate that you’re trying to make me feel better, Micah, but we both know the truth.”

  He reached the end of the street and turned into the drive. A black BMW sat in front, then his gaze fell to the purse lying on the ground and a scarf that must have belonged to Nan.

  This was where Simpleton had abducted her.

  The crime unit would arrive any minute. He wanted every bit of evidence possible to make sure the man paid for his crimes.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  LENORA TAMPED DOWN HER EMOTIONS AS SHE SLID FROM THE CAR. Nan’s purse and scarf were on the ground. One of her black heels was lying in the grass as if it had been kicked aside.

  Probably when she’d tried to fight Simpleton.

  God.

  “Don’t touch anything, Lenora. A crime unit is on the way,” Micah said.

  “We know who did it.”

  “But we need forensics to back up the case.”

  She whirled on Micah. “You mean in case she’s dead and he doesn’t confess?”

  Tension stretched between them for a full second.

  “Trust me, Lenora. This time he’ll get death row.”

  She regretted taking her frustration out on him. Micah was trying to help, doing his best to take care of her and find Simpleton.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just on edge.”

  “No apology needed.” Micah offered her a smile. “I know this is difficult.”

  “All the more reason to do everything we can to find Nan.” She glanced inside the car, but nothing looked amiss. He must have been watching Nan, jumped her when she came out to her car.

  The front door stood ajar, and she slowly walked toward it, but Micah caught her arm. “Let me search the house first.”

  Fear shot through her, and she glanced around the driveway for blood or a body, but didn’t see any. “You think Nan might be inside? Or that he might be?”

  Micah’s shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. “I don’t know, but we can’t take any chances.”

  Her pulse pounded as he pulled his weapon and inched inside the house. She wished she’d brought her own gun.

  The house was a small one-story with an open layout, a large den connecting to the kitchen. Nice wood flooring, expensive cream-colored couches, an office to the right visible from the living area.

  “Everything looks in order in here,” Micah said.

  Every muscle in Lenora’s body tensed as she followed him down the hallway past the office. What if Nan’s body was here?

  What if he’d raped and tortured her in her own home knowing she and Micah would search the house?

  Plush white carpet covered the floor of the master bedroom, a queen bed dominated the room, and the closet was open, revealing an array of suits and designer
outfits.

  Thankfully Nan wasn’t inside the room.

  The sound of water trickling echoed from the bathroom and Lenora’s breath caught. God, no…

  Simpleton had enjoyed shoving his victims below the icy water in the bath, forcing them under for so long they would be chilled inside, lose the will to live and beg to die. Then he would do it again.

  But in the end, he’d revive them, use his precious knife to stab them in the heart and carve an X in their chest

  An image of Nan lying on the bathroom floor covered in blood flashed in her mind, and Lenora gripped the wall, unable to look as Micah entered the room.

  MICAH EXHALED IN RELIEF AT THE SIGHT OF THE EMPTY

  bathroom. The water in the tub was dripping, the tub full and starting to overflow, so he turned off the water.

  “He used to dunk us in an ice bath and hold us down until we choked and lost our breath,” Lenora said behind him.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face, blotting out the image.

  Had Simpleton left the water running to remind Lenora of his sick twisted ways?

  Demented asshole.

  Lenora was trembling, so he clasped her hand and led her back through the house. She paused at the bookshelf and stared at the framed photographs arranged on the shelf. Several of Nan and an older man he assumed was her father, then a picture of Lenora and Nan.

  The two of them stood side by side in front of the college in their caps and gowns, their arms linked as they showed off their diplomas.

  “I can’t believe she still has that picture.”

  Micah cleared his throat. “Maybe she just didn’t know how to help you after the trial,” Micah said. “When some people suffer tragedies or undergo traumatic experiences, it changes them. The people around them often don’t know what to do or say.”

  “I know I changed, I was difficult to be around,” Lenora said softly. “I don’t blame her for pulling away.”

  He rubbed her arms to warm her. “That’s not what I meant. She was your friend. She let you down when you needed her most. That’s hard to forgive.”

  Pain wrenched her face, but outside, the sound of an engine cut through the air, and Micah released her. “That’s probably the crime van.”

  He hurried outside to meet them and explained their suspicions. “Look for hair fibers, fingerprints, anything we can use to prove that Simpleton was here.”

  The team went to work, and he ushered Lenora back to the car. “I want to look over the files and transcripts from the trial,” Micah said. “Simpleton was interviewed by a court- appointed shrink. Talking to her might give us some insight where he might take Nan.”

  “We know it’ll be an isolated area, an abandoned house or building, some place with a basement that’s dark,” Lenora said, her voice regaining strength.

  “Yes, but there might be some other detail that we missed that might help narrow it down. Maybe a special childhood place, an area that meant something to him.”

  “Call her and let’s go see her,” Lenora said.

  The silence was deafening as he sped away. A few miles down the road, he spotted a coffee shop and pulled in. “I have those files in my trunk. I can look at them and find the number of that psychiatrist while we have coffee.”

  Lenora’s cell phone dinged, and she snatched it from her purse. When she glanced at the caller ID screen, her face crumpled.

  “What?”

  She handed him the phone and he read the text.

  Dearest Lenora,

  One for the party. One to go.

  Soon it’s time you joined the show.

  Love and kisses,

  Robert

  Micah cursed and pulled Lenora up against him, then wrapped his arm around her

  shoulders as he escorted her inside. They ordered coffee and muffins, and he laid his briefcase on the table.

  “Who is he going after next?” Lenora said in a haunted voice.

  “You tell me. Who else are you close to?”

  “No one except Jenny,” she said. “And I already warned her.”

  “Has she left town yet?”

  “I think she was stopping by today to turn things over to Wilma before she left.” Panic flared in her eyes. “I’d better check in.”

  She punched her friend’s number while he opened the file and scanned it.

  Lenora had been Simpleton’s only survivor so her testimony had been key to the prosecution. Other evidence was muddy due to a mix up at a lab and Simpleton’s ability to cover his ass. Damn crime shows. Between them and the Internet, perps could virtually find a textbook lesson on how to get away with murder.

  “What? Listen, Jenny, I don’t like that you’re there alone. I’ll come right over.”

  Micah frowned. He was surprised Troy left her alone for a minute, but Jenny seemed as stubborn as Lenora and probably insisted.

  “That man already kidnapped one of my friends from college. I don’t know who he’s coming after next, but I’m worried about you.” A pause. “Okay, keep the door locked. And call me as soon as Troy comes back.”

  Lenora tapped her fingernails on her coffee cup when she hung up.

  “She’s there alone?”

  “Yes,” Lenora said. “Troy went to get them some food and should be back any minute.”

  “Take a deep breath, and call back in a few minutes. If he’s not back, we’ll go over there.”

  “I’d feel better if we went now,” Lenora said.

  He’d do anything for her. “All right.” He closed the file just as her phone jangled again.

  “Jenny?” Another pause. “Okay, great. Now close up the shop and go some place safe with Troy.”

  She looked relieved when she hung up. “Do you see anything in the file?”

  “Here’s the shrink’s name and contact information.” Micah called the number, and spoke to her secretary. “I need to see Dr. Rowan.” He identified himself and explained the situation, and she told him to come as soon as possible.

  Lenora stood. “Let’s go.”

  Fifteen minutes later, they were seated in the doctor’s office. Dr. Rowan was tall and slim with a short, dark bob of hair and square glasses. Thankfully she worked with the police and courts, so privilege wasn’t a problem. With a woman’s life hanging in the balance, she had to talk to them anyway. “I heard about Simpleton’s escape,” she said.

  “We need insight to find him. What can you tell us?”

  “Robert Simpleton was severely abused as a child. His mother was schizophrenic, and treated him horribly. She punished him with beatings, using anything she could find from a broomstick or belt to tree limbs to whip him. She used to make him cut his own switch for her to use.”

  The woman paused, her short fingernails drumming over the man’s file. “She filled a bathtub of cold water and dunked him over and over as another punishment. He lost consciousness more than once, but managed to survive.” Her brows drew together. “Of course he was scarred permanently.”

  “She raped him?”

  Dr. Rowan nodded. “Repeatedly. Again she used various objects. She also allowed men to come in and use him. She…was amused by it.”

  Lenora massaged her temple as if the doctor’s comments were disturbing her. As if she had sympathy for Simpleton.

  He didn’t feel sorry for the asshole. Sure, Simpleton had a tough childhood and shouldn’t have been abused, but that didn’t justify his abuse against innocent women.

  “In my opinion, the women he tortured personify his mother,” Dr. Rowan continued. “He’s finally getting his revenge against her for what she did to him.”

  “We’re trying to figure out where he’s holding Nan Purcell,” Micah said. “Is there anything in his background that might help us? Maybe a specific place his mother used to take him? Some place meaningful?”

  Lips pursed in thought, the doctor opened the file and skimmed her finger along a section. Seconds later, she lifted out a childlike drawing of an old Victorian house that l
ooked haunted.

  “This is a sketch of the house he grew up in, where his trauma first occurred,” she said. “If Mr. Simpleton believes this is his last chance to punish his mother, he might want to recreate the same setting where he was abused himself for his victims.”

  ROBERT HAD BEEN WATCHING JENNY, THE GIRL WHO WORKED WITH Lenora, but some big oaf of a guy was dogging her like she was in heat. He’d have to wait till the creep left her or…find someone else who fit his needs.

  He turned on the faucet in the tub in the basement and watched the water begin to trickle. It hadn’t been used in ages and was rusty and spewed brown water, just like the one in his childhood home.

  His lungs squeezed for air, the familiar panic and adrenaline mingling as images of the baptisms formed in his mind. That was what his mama called them.

  Punishments. Lessons. Cleansings of the soul.

  The drip, drip, drip of the water made him smile. The tub was nearly full now. The water icy cold just as it was when his mama baptized him.

  Now it was Nan’s turn to be punished. To be saved.

  The darkness greeted him like a safe haven as he headed to the room to get her.

  Somewhere in the darkness, a mouse skittered. Old pipes rattled. The wind beat at the shutters.

  He removed the key from his waist and unlocked the door to Nan’s room. She lay deathly still in the corner, her hands and feet still bound, her hair tangled around her.

  Feet moving on autopilot, he shuffled to her and gripped her by the hair. She jerked her eyes open and tried to scream, but the duct tape drowned the sound.

  Smiling, he ripped the tape off, knowing no one would hear her cries. They were too isolated.

  Her eyes went buggy with terror, and she tried to fight him again, sending his pulse into an uproar. He dragged her up the stairs, then started to undress her.

  She kicked and pushed at him with her body, and he slapped her, ripped off that little black dress, and stripped her down to her lace panties.