She frowned and glanced at the clock on the bedside table.
“Friday, sorry about leaving you hanging.”
A terrible feeling rose inside her. Dread. “If Elio is alive, just tell me.”
“My sources sent me several pictures, which I’ve emailed to you. They should come through—now. Tell me if you can identify either of the two men.”
Her cell phone beeped. “Give me a second, Mitch.”
She viewed the gruesome images of Elio Casper and Mario Gombiana. Both on metal slabs, their naked bodies draped with white sheets. Elio’s eyes wide open. Lifeless, cold, dead eyes. Bruises on his face and neck. Gombiana’s picture was more graphic, with a bullet hole in the center of his forehead.
“Friday?”
“Yeah.” Tears burned behind her eyes, and her throat was tight. “That’s them. You’re right. They are really dead. So who is after me?”
She heard him sigh through the phone. His tone was hard, intense. “The sorry bastard, whoever he is, will regret the day he harassed you when I catch him.”
When she didn’t answer, he added, “I’ll nail this guy. You believe me?”
“Yeah, I believe you.”
“Good. There’s one important thing I need for you to do as soon as we hang up, Friday.”
Laura could almost feel his smile through the phone. She frowned, considering his request. “What’s that?”
“Go back to bed. You need the rest.”
“Okay.”
Sleeping would be the smart thing to do. She needed to rest and recharge her batteries. Instead, Laura opened her cell phone for a last look at the pictures of Elio Casper and Mario Gombiana. She tried to force her shoulders to relax. “I hope you both rot in hell for killing my friend.”
Laura massaged the ache in her hip as she flipped the phone shut. A new worry beset her. Who was sending the white roses?
Chapter Thirty-One
The lengthening shadows of dusk surrounded the house and the woods around it. A soft breeze filtered through an open window.
Benjamin’s fingers groped along the rear of the darkest corner of the shelf inside the closet until he touched the metal box. Lifting it down, he carried it to the bedroom. He sat on the bed with his back against the wall, opened the lid, and blinked at the contents.
First it was the deputy. Now, Bryan Cole. Bastard. He’s gettin’ in the way, and if it continues, he’ll be next.
“Shut up. We’re not killing anyone, anymore. Besides, killin’ a man ain’t as easy as you think.”
As always, the voice inside him disagreed. Aw, Bennie, you have to admit, it’s kinda fun. Don’t you think? If we don’t do the deputy or the ranger, we can find another girl. I like that Amy girl.
“No. She’s a kid.” The sudden image of a lithe, tomboy beauty with brown hair flared up in his mind’s eye.
Brenda Alligood was sixteen, just like Amy.
Benjamin’s eyes shifted to the grainy black-and-white newspaper photo of Brenda Alligood. He swallowed hard and looked away.
“I hate you, Bennie.”
Yeah, who are you trying to convince…me or you? Thing is, you can’t hate me without hating yourself.
Benjamin heaved a deep sigh. The comment sent shock waves through him.
When you were in the loony bin, didn’t I tell you it wasn’t going to be a one-time thing? Huh…didn’t I?
“I didn’t have a choice. Those girls made me do it. I only wanted to love them. They shouldn’t have screamed.”
His inner-twin laughed. The laughter filled the bedroom. Benjamin covered his ears to shut out the sound. It didn’t work.
One more, Bennie. One more. Her.
Benjamin looked down. A finger—not his finger, pointed to another face, in a different news photograph. “No. I won’t. Not her.”
Oh, Bennie…Bennie. Of course, it’s her. She’s the best one of all. She won’t scream. Now get your ass in gear.
“I won’t do it. You can’t make me.”
High-pitched giggling rose into a loud crescendo. The walls seemed to pulsate in an erratic rhythm. Benjamin wasn’t sure if the sound was real or imaginary.
He sat hunched over the edge of the bed, his hands kneaded together into fists that dangled between his legs. Maybe his brain wasn’t even his brain anymore. He swayed from side to side and felt the darkness roll in. Felt himself teetering on the edge of a murky chasm. Red spots danced like chaotic sparklers before his eyes.
It’s all planned. No one will know it’s you.
Benjamin laughed through his tears. He drew a deep breath and looked down at the smiling face in the news article. “How will no one know it’s me?”
No one…get it, Bennie? N-o-o-n-e spells—No one.
Benjamin walked into the bathroom. He turned on the cold water tap and splashed water over his face. “Not tonight. My head hurts, and I’m tired. Can’t you see the blood leaking from my eyes? I’m sick.”
Faker…slacker…Boo-hoo…cry baby.
He balled his hand into a fist and slammed it into the medicine cabinet mirror, and the pain brought him back to reality. The red spots in front of his eyes disappeared. Bewildered, he didn’t recognize the shattered image staring back at him.
Without breaking stride, Benjamin left the bathroom. At the front door, he twisted the knob and swung it wide and walked out. The air cooled his fevered face. Bennie had picked a perfect night. Mist was rolling in over the bay. Soon dense white fog would blanket Cole Harbor. All the attention would be focused on the fireworks, and the noise. Yeah, his inner-twin had picked the perfect night.
****
“Laura?” Phyllis stood on the sun porch, staring at the growing crowd on both sides of the sidewalk. “I believe Mitch has already closed off the street to ready for the parade.”
Laura glanced at her watch as she joined her aunt. “It’s not five, yet. C’mon, if we hurry, we can still get out of town and drive to the park.”
As she and her aunt walked down the stairs, the house phone rang. “Let it go to voice mail, Aunt Philly.”
The answering machine beeped, and Bryan’s voice came on. Laura, it’s Bryan. I hope you get this message. Don’t try to drive to the park. Traffic is backed up from the entrance gate for approximately two miles down Cove Highway. Call me, so I won’t worry about you.
They listened, and then Phyllis waggled her neatly arched eyebrows at her niece. “Well, I guess that’s that, and honestly, I’m relieved. Fog is setting in. Never did like driving in the fog.”
Laura couldn’t argue the last point. “I left my camera in the office. I’ll call Bryan while I’m there. Might as well use this opportunity to mingle among the crowd and get a few candid shots for the paper. Maybe interview a couple of tourists.”
“You know what Mitch said. Stay in the crowds—no wandering off in dark corners. I don’t want to have to worry about you, either.”
Laura smiled as she blew out an exaggerated sigh. Deep inside, she appreciated her aunt’s concern. “Don’t let me interrupt your fun. By the way, how do you normally celebrate the Fourth…I mean, if I weren’t here?”
A faint tinge pinked Phyllis’s cheeks. “After the parade, the girls and I indulge in a lot of junk food, several glasses of wine, and then we meander down to the dance area, hoping one of the ole codgers will ask to waltz us around the floor a time or two. Silly, at our age, huh?”
Laura arched a brow and offered an empathetic smile. “Aunt Philly, you are a beautiful, vivacious woman. There is nothing silly about enjoying life. Besides, age doesn’t define you. It’s only a number.”
She turned and looked over her shoulder. “Don’t wait up. I plan to enjoy all of the festivities, too. Maybe I’ll see you at the dance.”
At the bottom of the stairs and before going out the door, Phyllis snapped her fingers. “Tell Bryan he owes us a special guided tour of the park. We’ll bring the picnic lunch.”
Laura nodded as she walked around the corner to the alley a
nd the few steps to the newspaper’s rear entrance. She inserted the key and turned the knob. The door didn’t open. Odd, she thought, and tried again. The door creaked when she pushed it wide. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she stood for a moment and listened to raucous notes from the band members tuning up their instruments. She really loved this town. It was becoming more like home every day.
As she walked through the store room, late afternoon sun filled the office area. She froze. Her eyes widened, and she felt the bottom fall out of her stomach.
“Omigod! No!”
Everywhere she looked, white rose buds, mingled with fully bloomed white roses, littered the office floor and the top of her desk, and a large sheet of paper with No one loves you! scrawled almost illegibly in red letters was taped to the back of her office chair.
Had she forgotten to relock the door?
Footsteps from behind caused her to turn. “You! How did you get in?”
And then she realized the door must have been unlocked, and when she inserted the key and turned, she had relocked the door. Had he picked the lock, or did he have a key?
Time blurred into milliseconds. Out of the rose-strewn area, large hands reached forward and grabbed her. She wrenched backwards. The sudden movement caused her hip to lock, and she lost her balance when she tripped over her own feet.
On her way to the floor she thought she heard him say, “It’s emerging now, baby,” right before her head hit the hard edge of the desk. Sharp pain riveted through her scalp.
Stars swam in a black sea behind her eyelids.
****
Benjamin grimaced when Laura hit the floor with a thud. A soft groan of pain slipped from her lips. He squatted and lifted her to a sitting position so he could feel the back of her head. A large lump had formed. Maybe she’d suffered a concussion. A moment of panic rippled through him. He placed his face close to hers to see if she was breathing.
“What should I do, Bennie?”
Benjamin listened. No answer. Disgruntled, he surmised his inner-twin had decided to remain silent, just when he needed him the most.
Her head lolled against his chest. She mumbled. The words were incoherent, something about—jolly?
Much the way one would a child, he shushed her. “I-I’m not going to hurt you.” His voice was quiet.
He hadn’t been touched affectionately by a female for a long time. Her hands reached out and gripped the front of his shirt as if she were seeking comfort.
Instinctively, he drew Laura to his chest, wanting to protect her. From whom—Bennie or himself? He inhaled her fragrance. Brushed his lips over the lemony scent of her hair. She had a mouth that reminded him of a pink rosebud. He wondered if her lips were as supple as they looked. Maybe he would steal a kiss, and she couldn’t resist.
Her breath tickled the side of his neck. He blinked in surprise, then grinned.
She stirred against him. Her body invited responses he hadn’t felt since he was sixteen. That part of him had died with the chemical shock treatments at the asylum. He wanted to shout—Yes!
Outside, the band played “When the Saints Come Marching In.”
His attention snapped into gear. He grabbed the tarpaulin he had stitched into an oversized sailor’s duffel bag. Laying Laura flat, he lifted her feet and slid the canvas sack over her body until she looked like a large container of potting soil. He pulled the drawstrings together, and then scooped her into his arms.
He felt an odd urge to protect her. To take her out of the sack and return to his cabin, alone.
Loser.
Silence.
You hear me, loser? Big…cowardly…loser.
“Screw you, Bennie. You’re making me mad, so keep your trap shut.”
Benjamin shoved his black mood aside. With the stealth of a cat, he slipped out the back door, down the steps, and toward the woods.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The boom, followed by another burst of explosions, jerked Laura awake. She had been dreaming about Jolly. It took a moment to remember that it was the Fourth of July.
She opened her eyes and realized she wasn’t in her office. It was dark, and she was lying in a small bed. Not her bed, and the room around her was completely different. She smelled the stale odor of sweat, which made her wrinkle her nose. Her head, when she tried to move it to take in the room, pounded so hard it made her nauseated.
She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, the little crackerbox room came into view a bit more clearly.
Where was Aunt Philly? Where was Bryan?
Laura lifted her hand to wipe away the mist clouding her eyes. She saw the dark form standing at the foot of the bed. He was a tall, solid man.
He studied her with a gaze that swirled darker by the second, until those eyes reminded her of an ominous storm waiting to explode. His chest rose and fell with one deep breath after another.
She squirmed until his face came into full focus, then wished she had remained unconscious. Above her was the rigid jaw, sharp cheeks, and dark eyes of a dangerous predator, anticipating his plan of attack. He stared at the window, but she could tell he listened for any change in sound.
Her heart raced. She opened her mouth to scream.
He moved, cutting off the sound before it was more than a breath. It was as if he had read her mind—knew her thoughts. He put his finger to his lips. “Shh! Don’t scream. Bennie and me don’t like screamin’.”
A chill slithered down Laura’s spine. It took all she possessed to remain calm. “Why did you bring me here? What do you want?”
Benjamin massaged his temples. “Too many questions makes my head hurt.”
Laura glanced around the room. “Is there another person here? Who is Bennie?”
Benjamin slammed the wall with the palm of his hand. “Bennie is my twin. He’s not nice. He makes me do bad things.”
“W-what kind of bad things?”
He tipped his head back and laughed and laughed, and between gusts of laughter his voice changed, his facial expression changed, and he coughed out the words, “And now…and now…I’d like you to…ah-ha-ha-ha…meet, me.”
Benjamin kept on laughing, a maniacal resonance from deep within his chest. A sound utterly devoid of joy. “Hello, darlin’, I’m Bennie. You look frightened, and you should be.”
Laura pushed to an upright position. She closed her eyes against the sudden flash of light.
Benjamin—Bennie—stood next to the lamp. “The better to see you, my darlin’.”
Still trying to get a handle on what was going on, Laura glanced around the room. On the wall were the newspaper pictures of Brenda Alligood, Lynnette Braswell, and Daisy Fuller. There were pictures of women she had never seen before. How many had he murdered? There was one more picture that caused her to gasp and cringe against the bed—hers.
“I found them for Benjamin, but he’s such a bumblin’ idiot that he made them scream.”
Laura followed his gaze to a dark corner of the room. Benjamin—or was it Bennie who spoke?—said, “We don’t don’t like screamin’ do we, Bennie?”
She decided her best defense was to humor the sick bastard. “W-what did he do to make them scream?”
Benjamin closed his eyes. It seemed he was experiencing some kind of ecstasy, or pain. Laura wasn’t sure which.
He kept his eyes shut. Stood still, head tipped back. A slow smile played across his lips. He unbuttoned his pants and pulled down the zipper and spread back the fly. It took a few minutes of fumbling. It was Bennie’s voice that spoke. “This is why the girls call him ‘Beenie with the little weenie.’ He was born deformed. Our mother screamed, too. She hated the sight of him.”
Laura turned away. Rough hands grasped her chin and forced her to look. She struggled to keep her voice calm. “Where is your mother, Benjamin?”
He merely grinned. Bennie’s voice, matter of fact, said, “She’s dead. Grandfather fed her to the sharks. He didn’t like screamin’ either.”
She swiped a trembling hand through her short cropped hair. “If you let me go, I promise not to scream.”
A series of rolling booms vibrated the cabin, followed by the rat-a-tat-tat cadence of exploding firecrackers. Visible from the window, sparkling light flashed like ghostly fingers through the fog-shrouded mist.
Benjamin swayed on his feet. He beat at his head and shrieked, “Bennie…crabs…get them off…they’re eating my brain!”
The voice changed. “Face it like a man. I brought the bitch here. Now are you going to do her, or is it up to me to love her?”
Laura had used her newspaper connections to gain partial access to Benjamin’s medical records. Apparently something had retriggered his paranoia schizophrenia. He was clearly delusional. She waded through a mash of emotions trying to formulate a plan. With her bad leg, she wasn’t much for running.
She prayed the muscles wouldn’t seize up, and moved as quickly as her hip allowed. She sprang from the bed and, with a one-two punch, pushed all the force she could muster into her arm and then smashed the heel of her hand against Benjamin’s nose.
He yowled and staggered backward, slamming against the wall.
Footsteps pounding behind her registered in her brain. Hands gripped her hair, jerking her head back. A hard smack of flesh against wood cracked the air.
Laura cried out in pain as her body was flung to the floor. Benjamin straddled her with his knees. The window shade hung askew from where she had torn it from the sill, allowing a view of the fireworks lighting the darkened sky.
She wasn’t sure who spoke to her—Bennie or Benjamin. “Get up, bitch. I’m not through with you.”
She placed both hands against his chest. “You said you wouldn’t hurt me if I didn’t scream, and I didn’t. Good people don’t break their word, Benjamin.”
He snarled and swung his meaty right paw in a powerful slam across Laura’s cheek. “Scream, damn you. I can’t love you until you scream.”
A cut along her brow dribbled blood. Ears ringing, she struggled to push from beneath his weight. “No, I won’t.”
He leaned close and pressed his slobbering lips against hers. She turned her head aside, as he pinned her arms over her head, and with the other hand he fumbled with the waistline of her slacks. She twisted and reared against him, kicking.
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