Malin spun the bracelets around her wrists, the idling motor vibrating the dash. “Look, when I saw the cuts on your knuckles, and then I found your lighter out at the lake…”
“Get out.”
“Ross, he tricked me!”
“Get out!”
Malin flinched with the outburst and pushed herself from the car, jumping back just before he ran her toes over and sped off into the night. Watching his taillights disappear over a gentle hill, she turned to face the building looming behind her, dreading what might be waiting inside. A relieved breath squeezed from her lips. Her windows were empty and her legs were heavy. Each inch of pavement felt like a mile. Every stair a jagged mountain. Inside her apartment, she locked the door and leaned against it, blowing out a weary breath that fluttered her oily bangs. She dug both hands into her hair and itched, cringing with an explosive image of Brandy tied to a wheelchair. How could she have missed the signs? How could she have thought her best friend was a murderer? Because Holden was that good that’s why. A former member of law enforcement, he knew how to get into the mind of a killer and the shoes of a cop at the same time. It was a recipe for disaster and Brolin should see it!
The couch called to her but first she had to pee. If she could just make it to the bathroom and manage that wearisome task, she promised herself she would sleep forever and never wake up again. The world had turned upside-down and she’d never felt this tired in her entire life. Kicking her shoes off, she watched her bare feet shuffle over the face in the floor and down the hallway, too drained to even hold her head up.
Nearly falling asleep on the toilet, it took everything she had to get up. Malin dared to look into the oval mirror above the sink as she washed her hands, eyes drawing to the scratches running down her cheek. Wet fingertips traced the dark trails beginning to scab over. The ones that reminded her of the claw marks running down the back of her shoulder. Twisting her head around, she carefully peeled the gauze bandage back, holding her breath as the white tape grudgingly released her skin. A loud pop sent a spider web of cracks rattling the mirror, multiplying her frightened reflection from one to twenty. Aghast, she stepped back and stared at the fractions of herself, not recognizing the girl staring back. Then she noticed Holly, Amber and Brandy hiding in three pointy slivers, each glaring at her with malice heating their eyes. Malin’s heart thrashed, on its last leg. Stiffening, her eyes locked on the shower curtain behind her, and Malin now knew exactly where Detective Brolin could find Holden. She also knew she was the next to die. To the cops, she would always be victim number four and it glued her feet to the cold bathroom floor. She stared at the many shower curtains in the fractured mirror, unable to shake the feeling someone was standing in the clawfoot tub. The dead girls in the knife-shaped shards spread bloody grins, eager for another friend to join them in their eternal misery.
Spinning on the balls of her feet, dizziness set in from the sudden movement, making Malin stagger. Floating out of her body now, she watched someone else’s hand reach for the shower curtain she didn’t want to pull back under any circumstance. No, she wanted to sprint out the front door without looking back and get help from one of the neighbors down the hall like any right-minded person should do at a time like this.
But her hand already had the polyester fabric in its grasp.
Fingers balling the curtain into a fist, there was still time to run for help. Hell, the nice man across the hall was a former marine and probably had a gun. She could be pounding on his front door in less than fifteen seconds if she bolted this very instant. Back pressing against the ceiling, Malin watched her fist tighten with the muscles in her jaw. “Don’t,” she breathed, whisking the curtain back on the rod with a series of metallic clacks. A stifled breath slipped out like a slow leak. The curved tub was empty, exhaustion clearly taking a toll.
Spinning back around, her eyes widened. The dead girls were just as gone as the cracks in the mirror. “Oh, my God,” Malin whispered, clutching her chest and wondering if this was the onset of a heart attack or stroke. Faint of breath, she leaned against the pedestal sink and stared at her toes, trying to shake the dead girls’ crimson painted grins from her mind. Looking up, she expected to see them again but they were still gone, the mirror still whole. Exhaling, she shut the light off and went back out into the living room, feeling like a fool. She just needed a good meal and some solid sleep and things would look better in the… Freezing in the living room, blood thickened in her veins. The framed pictures adorning the walls and ladder shelf caught her wide eyes. It was impossible. Her pulse accelerated. Fear crept into her bones like a cold black wind and she must be seeing things again because there was no way in hell every single person, in every single frame, could have their backs turned to her. But they did. She stared at the backside of their heads with sweat sprouting along her brow line. Why would they turn their back on her? How could they? Her legs gave out and, without preamble, she fell down a long dark well with no end in sight and nothing to grab onto. The blackness grew thicker, colder, swallowing her hole, and in that moment, Malin Waterhouse was gone again.
Chapter26
Parking in the dimly lit street, Malin flicked a cigarette onto the pavement and hopped out of the red Miata. Her entire being buzzed with energy as she threw the building’s glass door back and stepped inside the brightly lit foyer. Stopping at a door on the ground floor, she filled her lungs and knocked three times. A young couple strolled past and Malin gave them a tight smile, sheepishly tucking a loose strand behind an ear. They pressed up against the wall and squeezed past as the apartment door opened, drawing Malin’s eyes.
Hair a mousy mess, anger carved a pointed glare into his face. “What’re you doing here?”
She hung her head and toyed with her bracelets. “I know you don’t want to see me,” she said in a soft voice sure to gain his pity. “But I had another vision and I don’t know where else to go.”
Roscoe’s suspicious gaze drifted down the hallway behind her. “How about trying the police department?” he said, slamming the door shut.
She barely felt the door bang against the toe of her combat boot. “By the time they get there, it’ll be too late.”
“Too late? What do you mean?”
“I mean this time I had a vision of the future, and if we hurry we can still save her.”
His brow crumpled. “Save who?”
Looking up to meet his constricted eyes, her chest heaved beneath a white tank top with a lacy hem. “Lisa.”
He studied her in the thunderstruck silence that followed, the TV behind him splashing blue light against the walls. “Lisa?”
“But we have to hurry!”
“How do you know it was from the future?”
“Because I saw this conversation we’re having right now.”
His face fell as he evaluated the deadpan look dulling her eyes. Pressing his lips tightly together, he shook his head back and forth. “You need help, Malin.”
She checked a watch hiding amongst a horde of bangles on her wrist. “In six seconds the hallway lights will flicker.”
He stared blankly at her for a long moment, Daredevil in the background filling the silence between them. “Don’t ever come here again,” he said softly, shutting the door just as the hallway lights flickered. The door threw back and the blood rushed from his face, leaving him ghost white. The TV grew louder as the lights slowly steadied back to a solid buzz. His lips moved, soundlessly searching for speech as his eyes canvassed the wall sconces. “Jesus Christ,” he finally murmured. “Let me get my shoes.”
Chapter27
Roscoe stomped on a brake pedal on his side of the Mazda that didn’t exist, bracing himself against the dash like they were about to plunge off a Hawaiian cliff. “Are you insane? We can’t go in here at night!”
Dousing the headlights and driving by the light of the moon, Malin pressed on the accelerator and freed her ponytail, letting the wind run through her pitch-black hair. “Do you want to save
your bitch ex-girlfriend or not?”
Lines forged through his forehead as they entered Mortimer Woods. “Not in here, I don’t! Fuck her!”
Malin laughed and it felt good. “Oh, come on, you know you still love her, Roscoe,” she said, pronouncing his name with a southern drawl.
“No, I don’t.”
“No? Then why are you spying on her outside Colt’s condo?”
His eyes got nearly as round as his mouth, trees encroaching upon both sides of the park road. “Have you been following me?”
She checked the rearview mirror again and frowned just before taking a tight curve that made the tires squeal, heading for the back of the park. “You’re the one who needs help.”
“Oh, my God, you thought I was the killer and started following me,” he muttered, understanding registering in his eyes.
Parking at an awkward angle, she turned to him with a knowing grin wilting on her lips. “We’re here.”
Exiting the vehicle, they crossed a walking trail snaking through the park like a concrete vein, her temples pounding in time with her footsteps as the woods gobbled them up like snacks. She moved fast. They had to hurry. Swallowing his own apprehension, Roscoe followed her flashlight beam bouncing through the tangled trees, asking questions she would only answer with a shush. The locusts buzzed in their ears. Shadows cloaked their movement. Dead leaves crunched beneath their feet and the humidity clung to their skin.
Ducking a low hanging branch, Roscoe struggled to keep up. “He brought Lisa way back here?”
“Yep,” Malin answered, wishing he would just shut the fuck up already. Time was of the essence, conversation was not.
“This is where they found Holly Banner.”
“I know. Must be some kind of a sick ritual,” she replied, stepping over a fallen tree.
“Why now?”
“I don’t know.”
“But he didn’t do it with the other girls.”
“I said, I don’t know, Ross!”
He groaned when a branch scratched his cheek. “Jesus, will you slow down?”
She shushed him and pressed on, sinuously navigating the uneven ground in the shifting light.
He grabbed her elbow and spun her to a stop. “Are you sure it was Holden in the vision?”
“Positive.”
“But why would he want to frame me for murder? I gave the guy a job.”
“Because after what he and I saw outside Colt’s bedroom window, you made an easy target!”
Sighing, he hung his head and rubbed his eyes. “Look, I’m sorry you saw me watching Lisa like that, okay? I-I don’t know what I was thinking but that doesn’t make me a murderer,” he said, touching his cheek and staring at the blood on his fingertips.
Pointing the flashlight at the ground, she held his dark eyes in the dim light. “No, it makes you a pervert, is what it makes you.”
“Sometimes I just…feel lost without her. I wish I didn’t but I do.”
Anger rose in the back of her throat like bile. “How many times have you done that?”
“That’s the only time. I swear it.”
Her gaze sharpened.
“I swear it!” He wiped the blood on his jeans and stepped closer, faces just inches apart, voice coming out in a breathless whisper. “Did you have a vision of me? Does something bad happen?” He gritted his teeth. “You tell me right now if you did. I deserve to know.”
“No.” She glanced behind him into the trees. “Let’s keep moving before it’s too late.”
Reluctantly, he followed her bouncy beam of light toward their destination. “I hope you’re wrong about this.”
“Have I been wrong before?”
“No, but this vision isn’t like the others, is it?”
She pushed through a thorn bush, tearing her black leggings and entering a small clearing. Coming to a stop, she let the flashlight sweep the area.
Roscoe stopped next to her and chased his breath. “Why are we stopping?”
Malin brushed a tear from her cheek, body trembling. “He’s going to drag her over there, to that oak tree.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
Roscoe took a long look around, adjusting the handgun hiding in the small of his back. “We should hide somewhere, club him over the head and call the police.”
She replied with a faint nod and let him take the lead, checking behind her again. It was dark and quiet back there and probably just a deer she kept hearing. Stooping, she grabbed a broken branch and coiled her fingers around the skinny end.
Roscoe stopped on a dime and slowly turned to face her. A stereophonic symphony of locusts, crickets and frogs conducted their night song around them, rising and falling on the breeze. “Did you hear that?” he whispered, drawing the Glock.
“Hear what?”
His gaze drifted over her shoulder, looking back the way they came. “Sounded like a stick broke.”
“It’s probably him,” she whispered back. “Keep going.”
His eyes lowered to the branch in her hand.
Malin shrugged at him. “What? You said to club him over the head.”
Taking one last look behind her, he pivoted on his heels and got moving again. Malin waited fifteen more paces before bashing him over the back of the head with the branch. There was a nauseating crunch and Roscoe crumpled to the ground with his legs folding up beneath him like a card table. Throwing the makeshift club off to the side, she pulled a zip tie from her waistband and secured his hands in front of him before dragging him to the oak tree.
Chapter28
The locusts stopped their undulating buzz and the crickets lowered their violin-like legs, leaving a far-off ringing in Malin’s ears that watered her grin. She waved the flashlight in Roscoe’s face, producing a faint movement beneath his eyelids. A strand of saliva seeped from the corner of his mouth, stretching to his t-shirt and oozing down a picture of The Statue of Liberty missing her head. Malin set the flashlight on the ground and checked the zip tie binding his wrists. Smoke rose from the cigarette dangling between her lips, stinging her left eye. She hadn’t slept all day and her body was dead tired, but she didn’t care. That was all about to change. She finally had her man.
“What the hell?” Roscoe mumbled, his eyeballs rolling back into place and locking in on the switchblade trembling in Malin’s hand. He struggled against his constraints and she swallowed a chuckle.
Pushing him back against the tree, she took a long drag, the glowing cherry turning her face red. “Just relax; Holden hit you over the back of the head,” she whispered, blowing smoke in his face. “But I think I scared him away.”
“What!”
“I’m going to get you out of here.” Pitching the butt into the trees, Malin brought the knife to Roscoe’s bound wrists with an unsteady hand. Fear oozed from his pores in a delicious scent, stirring her insides into a fever. Everything smelled sweeter, like flowers in the spring or laughing gas at the dentist.
“Hang on a second,” he panted, digging his outstretched heels into the ground and pressing up against the tree trunk. “Be careful!”
She snorted smoke in amusement and pried the knife between the zip tie and his flesh. The sharp blade pressed against the purple veins running inside his wrist like electrical wiring.
“Ouch!” Roscoe cried, jerking away.
Malin watched a drop of blood emerge from inside of his wrist, mouth dry as a cotton ball. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, trying to wet her lips. “I’m just scared.”
“Well, don’t slit my fucking wrists. You’re shaking!”
Biting back a nervous laugh, she leaned closer with the blade, hand trembling like a leaf at the mercy of a cold November wind. Roscoe pressed up against the tree, eyes bulging from dark sockets.
“Malin!”
Snatching the flashlight from the ground, she wheeled it around to the trees behind her. Surprise widened her oily eyes. “Holden!” she gasped, getting to her feet. “Thank God, you’r
e here!”
“Oh, shit,” Roscoe muttered, struggling for freedom. “Cut me loose!”
Holden stepped from a grouping of spruces, being extra careful not to trip and fall as soft needles tickled his cheeks. “What happened?” he asked, swinging his flashlight to Roscoe.
“I had another vision. This time it was of the future. It hasn’t happened yet.”
“What hasn’t happened yet?”
Fretfully, she peered around the woods as a light breeze tickled the treetops, sprinkling silver moonlight over them like powdered sugar. “I think he’s still here.”
Holden crept closer, not bothering to follow her eyes around the woods. “Who’s still here?”
“The killer.”
“What!” Roscoe coughed. “I thought Holden was the killer.”
“So I heard,” Holden replied, coming closer. “I talked to Brolin on my way here.”
“I was wrong about that and I’m sorry.”
Roscoe’s face fell. “You just said he hit me over the head!”
“Shut your mouth,” Malin replied, handing him a warning look.
Holden studied Roscoe, forehead wrinkling. “Hit you over the head?”
“Somebody untie me,” Roscoe moaned, blood running down the back of his scalp into the collar of his shirt. “Right fucking now.”
Holden jerked the light to Malin. “What’s with the knife?”
She glanced down at the switchblade in her hand. Caught off guard, she’d forgotten all about it and silently cursed him for it. “I was about to cut him loose.”
Stopping in front of her, Holden stared down and inspected this woman before him.
“Where’s Lisa?” Roscoe asked, voice getting stronger. “What’d you do with her?”
“Lisa?” Holden gave him a sidelong glance. “How should I know?”
“The killer knocked me down and ran off into the woods with her. I must’ve passed out for a few minutes,” Malin said, rubbing the back of her head and checking for blood.
The Hunting of Malin Page 17
