"If we've touched her... What?" asked Kennedy. "What will you do? Take us down into that medieval laboratory of yours and slaughter us like the others. Before taking us out for a boat ride and leaving us to rot amongst the fish."
He knew...
As I grasped what he said, I felt my mouth turn dry. I tried to swallow but nothing happened. My throat was blocked up with anger.
"You knew!" I bellowed.
He flung his head back and laughed.
"All of us have been keeping tabs on you for a long while. The panties you bought from the girls... you sick son of a bitch. The volunteering at the house so you could get closer to them. Just so you could murder them in cold blood."
"You have the nerve talking about cold blood," I seethed. "The things you make the women in that house do... to children. And what for, judge? For the money or your own amusement?"
He flinched, angry.
"Besides, you know I killed those girls but what can you so about it? Why not get your chief here to arrest me? Oh, wait... You couldn't do that because I have more money than the entire police force. Not I would incriminate the both of you if it ever went to court."
I shook my head in disbelief.
"So you had to resort to your sly underhanded tactics. Kidnap... You fucking kidnapped me and one of your own men!"
The chief glanced over his shoulder to where Berger lay like a pile of old dark rags in the corner.
"Collateral damage," he said with a shrug. "He was always a livewire anyway."
Beneath my restraints, I began to tremble. I needed out of here. Needed to show these sons of bitches who was boss.
I needed to find Etta!
"You look a little flustered there, Mr. Bosworth."
The judge crouched down in front of my until I could smell his brandy scented breath.
"You look like you need to relax," he said. "I know a mighty good way to relax..."
The look in his eyes told me everything I needed to know. In that very second, with his face only inches away from mine and his acrid breath hot on my skin, I knew just how dirty he was, just how repulsive and dangerous.
Unable to move and still struggling against the rope that was burning my wrists, I snorted up all the mucus in the back of my dried out throat and spat it into his face.
I was disgusted at myself for acting so wild, so feral but I wasn't as revolted as he was. For a second, he lingered in front me with a slight twitch fluttering beneath his eye. Then he reached for a handkerchief and wiped his face clean.
"You'll pay for what you did to my girls," he said. "You can't get away with this. No matter how rich you are."
He stood up and walked toward the door. Stopping mid stride, he stopped as though he'd remembered something.
"Tell me," he said. "The red spiral tattoos. What was the point? What did they mean? Or did they mean nothing at all?"
He'd have to kill me before I told him.
"It's symbolic," was all I said. "You wouldn't understand."
Again, there was that angry flinch of his and the twitch below his eye was becoming more rapid. If it had been anyone else I would have assumed the man was close to having a stroke.
"Symbolic?" he guffawed and forced out an insincere laugh. "So not only are you a doctor, inventor, and billionaire. You're' also some sort of master theologian."
The chief looked down at his shoes, obviously out of his depth with the prospect of thinking beyond dry police statistics and barking orders.
"Maybe I am," I replied. "Why does it bother you?"
Kennedy raised an eyebrow.
"Bother me?"
"The red spiral..."
There was pure curiosity in his eyes as he waited for me to reveal my secret. Like a cunning fox becoming privy to a delicious secret stash of hidden hens, he licked his lips and moved closer.
"Tell me what it means," he demanded.
"Why should I?"
In the moment, it was the only piece of power I had over him, the only thing that kept him hanging on. He was a man just as thirsty for knowledge as I was. No doubt the red spiral with all its mystery had confused him as much as it had the police.
"I bet it keeps you up at night," I said. "I bet you've drawn it over and over again as you try to figure out what it means."
He sucked on his teeth and cocked his head to the side.
"You'll never guess," I said. "Never..."
He pivoted on his heel and made his way toward the door.
"Have it your way," he said. "You'll squeal like a pig and tell us everything sooner or later."
I laughed although I felt like crying, screaming out until my throat burned.
"I'll never tell you a thing."
He nodded toward the chief and ripped open the steel fire door. I could see through the silhouette of his body that it opened out into the street where the rain was falling almost sideways through the faint illumination of the street lamps.
"Wait," I croaked.
He walked on.
"Wait!"
He froze and turned back, thinking I was finally going to give in and tell him what it all meant. He smirked and closed the door back over.
"I need to know something," I said, grimacing with the pain as my blood pooled into my fingers. "I need to know why you're so angry. Is it because I killed your girls and know I can get away with it? Or it is because I could expose your vile pedophile ring and bring this entire city to its knees?"
He stared into my eyes, his face as rigid and cold as stone.
"Well? What hurts you more? Knowing that I’ve been taking your sordid group out member by member and there's nothing you can do to stop me? Or knowing that you can't murder me? I bet it hurts like hell knowing you can't simply murder a billionaire. Especially one that keeps the economy of this whole town out of the red. What would this place do without me, eh?"
Still, his face was icy and unmoving except for the twitch below his eye.
"Fuck you," he said and strode toward the door. "O'Neil! Make sure that bastard doesn't go anywhere."
"With pleasure," said the chief.
We both watched as the judge let the door slam shut as he disappeared out into the rain.
"So, are you in his pocket or the other way around?" I asked and O'Neil glowered at me.
"Keep your mouth shut," he said. "You'll stay conscious longer that way."
I struggled against my restraints one last time but knew it was useless. A moment later, the chief approached with a blade in his hand and sliced the ropes free from my wrists.
"Don't get used to it," he said. "He'll be back sooner or later and I’ll have to truss you up like a turkey again."
The blood ran back into my limbs in a shower of pins and needles. It felt so good to stretch and stand up, to feel the pain dissolve from my fingers.
"So you're in his pocket," I presumed.
He said nothing. But he didn't need to.
Chapter Two
ETTA
"Where's Lincoln?"
They both stared at me.
"Hello? I waved an arm in front of their faces.
Still, there was no answer.
It was like being trapped in a room with two robots. Their large, uniformed bodies swamped the cheap wicker chairs and made the room look like a miniature doll set. I wondered if they could talk at all or whether the police department was only hiring deaf and dumb meatheads these days.
"With all the judge's money I would have at least expected I could have been kept in a decent hotel instead of this... this freakin' piece of shit Bates Motel hell hole."
They both continued to stare at me in silence.
All I could do was stare back and at least be grateful that I wasn't hurt or in handcuffs. As I sat on the edge of the bed, I squinted to see through the blinds out to the parking lot. The only vehicle was the black police van, large and sinister like the men sitting across from me with their assault rifles laying across their laps like briefcases.
"If
you two refuse to talk to me can we at least turn the television on?"
One of them nodded and adjusted the scarf that was around his mouth and nose. With the heat on it felt as though it was about a hundred degrees. The guys must have been baking under their bulletproof vests.
Not that I cared too much about them. I had other things to worry about. After we were bundled into the van, I watched as Lincoln and Berger were ripped out and dragged toward a warehouse in an area I didn't recognize.
After that, I was driven here but I didn't know exactly where that was. The place kinda looked familiar in a way that all of these places do.
I'd been sitting with my two captors ever since, staring at the walls in silence as they oozed with the charm and confidence of an android.
"Any preferences?" I asked as I reached for the TV's remote although I knew I wouldn't get an answer.
Both of them looked as though they had turned to stone.
"Old movies it is then."
I flicked through the channels until I found my favorite station. It was the one that played vintage movies from my grandmother's childhood on repeat. As the voice of Bette Davis drifted across the room, I began to feel safe. Well, in only the way you could ever feel safe while being kidnapped.
Lying back against the bed, I watched the silver scenes unfold. All melodramatic facial expressions and fast talking schemesters. It reminded me of being sick and off school with my grandma looking after me and bringing me glasses of homemade orange juice as we watched her favorite movies.
What I would do to see her now.
And I would do just about anything to see my mom!
I wondered if she ever did make it out on her sailing trip and I thought about what life would have been like if she decided on never going. I would be living with her instead of staying in the house with Phaedra. I would never have grown close to Lincoln. I wouldn't be in this room!
Beside me, one of the cops stirred and yawned. Rubbing his eyes, he jumped up and for the first time since we arrived, he spoke.
"I gotta get a soda," he said to the other guy. "You want one?"
"Sure."
I sat up and turned down the television.
"Woah. You can actually talk."
"You stay there," he said. "And keep your mouth shut."
He handed his rifle to his friend before disappearing out the door.
Then we were back to excruciating silence as the android left behind stared straight into my head, into my brain, into my soul.
"I guess you're not worried I'll call the police," I said.
His eyes burned into me.
"So... Is this like regular police protocol? Kidnapping and holding people hostage. Or am I just having a really unlucky day?"
He pulled down his scarf and revealed his face. It was handsome in a boyish way, chiseled with purposely grown stubble and a square jaw that looked as though it could take a punch. He pulled down the blinds to see where his buddy was before sauntering over to me.
"You're actually the lucky one," he said, his voice low and throaty.
"I am?"
"We were under orders not to hurt you," he explained. "Unlike that rich prick boyfriend of yours."
"Lincoln! You know where he is?"
He smiled and placed down his gun.
"I wouldn't tell you if I did."
"Bastard! You can't do this. Are you arresting us or not? You can't just hold us hostage like this! It doesn't matter that you're in a uniform or not. You can't do this!"
He licked his lips and placed a hand on my shoulder. It was heavy and hot and pulsing with strength.
"I think you'll find we can do whatever we want."
"But hurt me," I reminded him.
"Not unless you want me to."
What did that mean?
He took a step forward until his crotch was in my face. He was hard, his length visible as it pressed against the inside of his thigh.
I recoiled back and scrambled up toward the top of the bed. He laughed as he gripped my ankle and yanked me back down.
"You can't get away so easily."
"You can't do this!"
It was something I'd been screaming since we'd been captured. I'd yelled it until it felt like my throat was bleeding. Repeated it a hundred times. Now, it just felt like hollow words. Just like he said, they could do whatever they wanted. He was proving that right now.
"You can't get away with this," I said. "Once I'm outta here. Once Lincoln finds me there'll be hell to pay. You don't know who he is. What he's capable of!"
"Honey, I'm the one with the weapon. I'm the one you should you should be worried about."
He grabbed his dick and thrust it at me.
"Come on. I know what you rich girls like. You all wanna fuck a cop. Play it rough and dirty when you can."
"Get away from me!"
He was climbing up the bed toward me. Coming closer and closer until my back was pressed up against the wall. There was nowhere else I could go. When I thought my heart couldn't beat any faster, he took my wrists between his strong fingers and pushed me down into the bed.
"Please," I begged with tears rolling down the sides of my face. "Don't."
He licked his lips again and pushed me deeper down into the mattress.
"Please! Don't do it. Why wear a badge if you're not gonna believe in it."
He froze. His grip on me tightened. I'd hit his weak spot. He eased off a little but still kept a grip of my arms as his erection pressed into me.
"You like playing games?" he asked. "You like fucking up people's heads?Because it's not working. You can't play me."
"I just want you to let me go."
He lifted a hand to my face and traced a finger down the side of my cheek.
"I could have you right now if I wanted and there's nothing you could do about it."
I clenched my eyes shut and thought of Lincoln.
"Do you know the things that will happen to you if you do this?" I said.
He pressed himself into me harder.
"Stop talking, bitch!"
He slapped one hand over my mouth and unzipped his pants with the other.
I screamed against his palm, tasting the saltiness of his sweat. I kicked beneath him and struggled against his monstrous body but there was nothing I could do to stop him. There was no way I could move. Nowhere to go. It was going to happen whether I wanted it to or not.
The tears came fast and thick, making his hands slippery as it slid across my mouth.
"No!" I tried to scream but it came out muffled. "Please, no!"
He stared into my eyes as he ripped my jeans down over my hips and I braced myself for the rush of pain.
Then the door clicked open.
"Fuck! Gary what are you doing!"
His friend in blue was standing dumbstruck in the doorway with two cans of soda in his hands. He dropped them and rushed over.
"Get the hell off her!"
Gary zipped himself up and laughed.
"Woah, calm down buddy. I was just fooling around."
His friend glared at him in disbelief.
"We don't hurt her. Okay? Jesus fucking Christ!"
He clapped his hands to his head in despair.
"You can't just... You can't just... You're supposed to uphold the law. Not violate it!"
"Chill the fuck out," said Gary and rolled his eyes.
Taking a seat back in the wicker chair, he placed his gun back on his lap and lit a cigarette.
"Bored as fuck in here," he said and blew smoke up to the ceiling.
His friend ignored him and sat beside me.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
His eyes were soft and his face round and kind. He looked just as upset I was.
"No," I said. "I'm really not okay."
Tears fell onto the bed between us creating dark patches on the bed linen.
There must have been something that struck a chord with him, something that pulled at a human part of him because
he rubbed my back like a father trying to cheer up a child.
"You wanna go for a walk?" he asked.
I nodded and dabbed at my eyes.
"That would be great," I said. "Please get me outta here."
Chapter Three
PHAEDRA
The floorboards smelled like rot and mold and mouse droppings. No amount of scrubbing or bleach could take the smell away. Somehow it only made it worse.
I dropped the cloth to the ground and wiped at my stinging eyes with the back of my hand.
My parents’ house.The family home. It was the only place we could hide. The only place where the children wouldn't be found.Rumors were beginning to run rampant around Broadwood. People weren’t holding back anymore. It was only a matter of time until they took the law into their own hands and arrived at my door with blazing torches and pitchforks.
That’s how I imagined them. Like vigilantes from a bygone era. The truth was that they probably wouldn’t give me such a warm introduction. In this modern world they’d take me out with their cars, ransack the house and film all its depravity with their brand new phones and broadcast it to the world.
At the back of the building, I heard a creaking floorboard. Just like when I was younger and I'd hear my mother step out from thekitchen to make her way down into the pantry in the cellar. Except my mother died years ago.Decades ago. And it is now only her ghost that creaks along the floors. Or maybe it is just my memory tricking me.
The house had been abandoned since long before I entered the Waters House but like a cat who can sniff its way home and return to mock its owner, I returned to the house as a sort of pilgrimage.
With no other children, my parents left the house to me in their will but I never wanted it. Couldn't bear the thought of living in it with all its sadness and gloom.
Now, as I tried to clean it, the walls were streaming with condensation. The floors sunk into themselves as they rotted upon the blackened foundations, ancient and crumbling. I leaned a hand out to the wall and fell how wet it was. The house was crying.
Or was it the children?
Getting them out of the Waters House so they wouldn't be discovered by Detective Berger and his team was a feat in itself. Keeping them captive here was something else. It churned my gut to know they were down there but there was nowhere else they could go.
Jewels and Panties (Book, Five): A Doctor's Touch Page 6
