Wicked

by Jana DeLeon

  “Something will break. New facts will surface or we’ll catch Brett and he’ll talk. Something. Or maybe with some sleep one of us will be able to put it all together.”

  “I hope so.”

  “The silver lining is at least Ethan is found and safe. I know his chances aren’t good but they’re better than they were when he was still captive.”

  She nodded. “I think he’ll make it. He’s a fighter, clearly.”

  He looked at her and gave her a sad smile. “You know all about that.”

  “I suppose I do.”

  He looked her straight in the eye for several seconds without saying a word, and more than anything, she wanted to know what was going through his mind because his expression was so intense.

  “This probably isn’t a good idea,” he said, “but I’m too tired to talk myself out of it.”

  He moved toward her and as his lips lowered to hers, she felt her heart pounding in her chest as she leaned closer until their bodies touched. He brushed his lips lightly against hers, then pressed a tiny bit more before pulling his head away. His eyes searched hers, and she knew he felt he had taken a huge risk and was waiting to see if he’d blown it.

  “Actually,” she said, “that was the best idea you’ve had all day.”

  He smiled and Shaye knew that particular smile was only for her. “This could be complicated,” he said.

  “I live for complicated.”

  He stared at the hospital, anger coursing through him. Everything was wrong. It had started out so well, everything going according to plan. Now nothing was right. It was all falling apart and no matter what he did to get it back on track, he felt the noose tightening around him. He couldn’t remain in the shadows for much longer because either the cops or that bitch Shaye Archer would eventually expose him.

  He’d thought he could get Archer off the case by alerting the media to her presence, but she’d been smarter than he’d given her credit for. He’d seen her yank the wig off when she parked at the hospital, and her clothes didn’t remotely resemble her usual fare. It was enough to fool reporters, who would be looking for the well-dressed brunette, not the rumpled redhead.

  The nosy one was the final cog in his wheel and it frustrated him that two attempts to eliminate her had been unsuccessful. He needed to pack his things and get out of town. Start over somewhere else with a clean slate and no baggage from his past. But before he could do that, the nosy one had to die. She was ultimately responsible for ruining his carefully made plans.

  He’d never manage it while she was in the hospital, but once she was released, he’d figure out a way.

  Then he’d leave and become someone else.

  Someone better.

  Someone no one would pass over or take advantage of again.

  The room was dark except for the candles on the stone shelves, flickering with the draft and causing the shadows to leap on the wall behind them. The girl on the stone altar was in horrible pain. The worst pain she’d ever felt. She was convinced her body was tearing in two. The man and woman standing next to her wore the masks, as they always did. The woman had a tray of tools—scissors and other silver things that the girl couldn’t identify.

  She hoped the tools would kill her because it would mean an end to all the pain. All the suffering and fear that had gone on for so long. So long, she couldn’t even remember anymore.

  The woman picked up a big needle and grabbed the girl’s arm that was chained to the altar. The woman jabbed the needle into her ravaged skin and the girl cried out. Seconds later, she began to feel drowsy and a wave of fear coursed through her. Had they given her something to kill her? Or was it the same as all the other times—where she awakened with more bruises and her body destroyed a bit more than the time before?

  She prayed it was a lethal dose. That when she woke up, she’d be in heaven with a perfect body and no pain. With wings instead of chains on her wrists.

  Free.

  * * *

  Shaye bolted upright, her heart pounding in her chest, and struggled not to scream. For those few seconds, she’d been catapulted right back into her horrific past, and even worse, the dream had exposed something she had yet to remember. Something she thought she’d been completely drugged during and would never remember.

  But there it was, seeping out into her conscious like a toxic spill.

  She knew she’d been pregnant when she was captive. Her body showed the signs of having carried and delivered a baby, but doctors had assumed it wasn’t a viable birth. Given her age and malnourishment to the point almost of starvation, doctors speculated that the baby had been premature and stillborn.

  But what if they had been wrong?

  The child in her dreams didn’t know what forceps looked like, but an adult Shaye knew that the tools she’d seen on the tray were used to deliver a baby. Everything after they administered the drug was foggy and a lot of it blank. But somewhere, way back in the recesses of her mind, she could hear the faint cry of an infant.

  Was it real? Or was her confused mind playing tricks on her?

  She checked her watch. Six a.m. There was zero point in attempting to go back to sleep. After the dream, sleep was the last thing she wanted. She threw back the covers and went into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. Hustle had apparently clued in to some of her bad habits when he’d stayed at her apartment and had bought chocolate Pop-Tarts. She popped one in the toaster and grabbed a coffee cup, hovering near the pot.

  Breakfast and huge mug of coffee in hand, she sat at the table, then drank and munched in silence. Every time her mind tried to shift back to the dream, she forced herself to think of something else. The dream was something she needed to explore, but not right now. With the killer still at large, Tara and Ethan were her primary concerns. Horrors from her past could be addressed at any time. Shaye took them seriously, but they weren’t life-and-death. Not anymore. Besides, she had no way of knowing how much of the dream was real versus imagined.

  When her memory started to return, she’d found that certain things were exactly as she’d dreamed them, but others weren’t. Some of it was probably her mind’s way of protecting her from the worst of the abuse, and other instances could have been memories of news stories and movies incorporating themselves into the recall of a girl who didn’t understand what was happening to her.

  Shaye sat the coffee mug down and reached for her phone. Corrine had sent a text fifteen minutes before, asking her to check in when she got a chance. Clearly, it wasn’t an emergency or she would have called, but Shaye knew how much her mother worried, and not just about Shaye. Corrine’s heart for children had no limit. Her mother had probably been up half the night worried about Tara and Ethan, and the only thing Shaye had managed to do the night before was let Corrine know Ethan was alive but critical. She hadn’t even told her about Tara’s attack. It just would have upset her, and Shaye wanted her mother to get more sleep.

  In a way, it was funny because the only “lies” Shaye and Corrine told each other were lies of omission. And both did it for the same reason—to protect the other person. The only person who never lied or omitted was Eleonore. No matter the situation, Shaye could always count on Eleonore to lay it out straight. It was both comforting and sometimes frustrating to have the truth spelled out.

  Shaye called her mother and Corrine answered on the first ring.

  “You’re awake early,” Corrine said, which translated to “are you all right?”

  “Lots on my mind,” Shaye said. “And there’s a sense of urgency with all of this. I don’t want this guy to get away.”

  “You think he’s going to cut and run?”

  “I do, and Jackson agrees. Assuming he hasn’t already. The main suspect hasn’t been seen in a day.”

  “You have a suspect?”

  “A whole lot more went down yesterday than what I had time to tell you about.”

  “Do you have time now?”

  “Let me get another cup of coffee first.
” Shaye poured another cup, added way too much sugar given that she’d just eaten a Pop-Tart, and started filling Corrine in on everything that had happened the day before.

  “Those poor children,” Corrine said when she was done. “They’ve both been through hell and with Ethan’s health questionable, I know Tara is terrified.”

  “She is, but she’s stronger than she thinks. No matter what happens with Ethan, she’ll come through this, but if we don’t catch this guy, it will be so much harder.”

  “I know.”

  “Is there anything I can do? I know they’re both adults in the eyes of the law, but that doesn’t mean they don’t need help.”

  “There’s nothing you can do right now that I can think of but when this is all over, and assuming Ethan makes it, they could probably both use some visits to Eleonore. I’ll split the cost with you.”

  “Deal.”

  “So what’s going on with the media?”

  Corrine sighed. “They’re still staked out on the street. I counted five crews from my bedroom window, but I can’t see the side street from there.”

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  “At the moment, nothing. My attorney is coming today so that we can go over my plans to dissolve my interests in Archer Manufacturing and the other holdings. I know it’s an intricate process and don’t expect it to happen quickly, but I need to get things going so that I feel like I’m moving forward.”

  “If you’re certain that’s what you want to do, then I think it’s an excellent idea. Let me know if you need anything from me.”

  “Before this is over, I’ll probably need you to listen to me bitch and whine at least a thousand times.”

  Shaye smiled. “Will you bake before you bitch?”

  “That can be arranged.”

  Shaye finished up the call with her mother and headed into the bathroom for a shower. Given her lack of quality sleep, she probably could have benefited from another cold one, but she couldn’t make herself do it. Instead, she cranked up the heat to loosen up the muscles in her back and neck. Ten minutes later, she came out pink and feeling a million times better than she had before.

  She pulled on wrinkled yoga pants and T-shirt and headed back into the kitchen to find something more substantial to eat. The Pop-Tart was good, but sugar didn’t last very long when she was hyped. An inspection of the refrigerator revealed a carton of eggs and a package of bagels, so she whipped up a real breakfast, reminding herself to thank Hustle for doing such an excellent job with the food and the clothes.

  As she stirred the eggs in the skillet, she smiled, thinking about the first time she’d met the skittish street teen. It had been her first case on her own, and Hustle had come into contact with a stalker who was terrorizing Shaye’s client. Hustle had been wary of Shaye but when she’d explained the situation, he’d been angry at being complicit in the stalker’s game and happy to talk. Hustle’s mother had been stalked and killed by an ex-boyfriend, so it was personal. It wasn’t even five months prior, but when Shaye thought about how different life was for her and Hustle, and how much they’d experienced during those months, it felt like so much longer.

  She plated her food and sat down at the table again, this time opening her laptop. She checked email first and then local news. The media were all reporting Corrine and Shaye’s return, but with no photos and no statements, there was little else they could say beyond the usual speculation. Shaye scanned the sites for anything about Ethan or the other murders, but so far, it looked as if Grayson had been successful keeping the situation under wraps.

  As she was checking the last news website, she typed in the domain name incorrectly and the address field flashed a set of numbers before shifting to a website offering her the ability to purchase the domain name. And then something occurred to her.

  She pulled out her phone and looked at the string of numbers that Brenda had received. Surely it wasn’t that simple. She typed the numbers into the address bar, placing periods between the numbers to create a URL address. The screen flickered and a black graphic with red lettering appeared.

  * * *

  You’re too late.

  * * *

  No way this was a coincidence. She’d solved the code. But if there was any real information on how to find Ethan, it was long gone now. The killer had either changed it after Ethan was freed or the site had never contained any information in the first place. She drummed her fingers on the table. There was a way to access cached data, right?

  She opened a Google search and typed the URL into the search field. When the site came up in the search list, she clicked the down arrow and then the cached link, but the only thing returned was a duplicate of the page currently posted. Did that mean nothing else was ever on the page? That Brett never intended for anyone to find the victims? Or maybe he was smart enough to somehow clear the cached file.

  She blew out a breath. Her knowledge of tech stuff was decent, but she didn’t have the education to delve into things like this. She kept telling herself she needed to invest some time in technology courses, but that good intention wouldn’t solve the problem she had right now.

  She needed someone good with computers.

  And then she remembered Brittany, Amber’s sorority sister. Brittany had wanted to work in forensic science. Shaye had no way of knowing if Brittany possessed the knowledge to do what she needed, but if she didn’t, she’d probably know someone who could. She checked her watch. A little after 7:00 a.m. With any luck, she could catch Brittany before she left for class.

  She dashed back into the bedroom and threw on her resale outfit and wig and hurried out the door. Traffic was already getting heavy, so it took about thirty minutes to reach the sorority house. Lights were on inside and a couple of girls were exiting the house and headed down the sidewalk. Shaye crossed her fingers that Brittany was still there and hurried up the sidewalk to knock on the front door.

  The girl who answered the door wasn’t one she’d met previously, and the look she gave Shaye after giving her a once-over wasn’t overly inviting.

  “I need to see Brittany,” Shaye said. “Is she here?”

  “I’m not sure,” the girl said. “Can I say who’s calling?”

  “Shaye. We spoke the other day.”

  “Okay. Wait here.” The girl closed the door and Shaye could hear her heels clicking on the hardwood floors. She expected the girl to return and tell her Brittany wasn’t there, but a couple minutes later, Brittany opened the door, looked at her, and frowned. Then her expression cleared and she motioned Shaye inside.

  “I didn’t recognize you at first,” Brittany said. “You must be hiding from the reporters. They were all talking last night about how you and your mother are back in town.”

  Shaye nodded. “It’s hard to conduct an investigation if you’re being followed by a camera crew.”

  “That sucks. People should just leave you alone. It’s not like you haven’t been through enough.”

  “I wish they all shared your sentiment.”

  “Well, I’m sure you didn’t come here to chat, so what can I help you with?”

  Shaye glanced around at the girls bustling through the kitchen and lobby, all casting curious glances at Shaye and Brittany. “Is there somewhere private we can talk?”

  “Of course. Follow me.”

  Brittany headed down the hall toward the big meeting room where Shaye had talked with the sisters the day before, but instead of going all the way to the end, let them into an office-sized room with a desk and three chairs. Shaye pulled out her laptop and explained to Brittany the messages and how she’d realized it was a URL.

  “Wow,” Brittany said as Shaye opened her laptop and pointed to the screen. “The whole thing is so evil. I know it’s real, but reading case studies is a whole lot different from being confronted with it in person.”

  “What I’d like to know is if that website contained different information before this. I checked the cache for the websit
e page the easy way, but it doesn’t come up with anything.”

  Brittany nodded. “So you want to know if there were ever instructions for finding Ethan.”

  “Yes,” Shaye replied. She felt guilty that she couldn’t tell Brittany that Ethan had been found, but she couldn’t risk the information getting out. “Is there another way to find cached site information, assuming there is any to find?”

  “You’re in luck. We just finished covering this in one of my tech classes. Give me a few minutes to check some things. If I can’t figure it out, I know a guy who can.”

  “That’s great,” Shaye said and pulled out her phone. While Brittany clicked away on her laptop, Shaye made some notes about the case that she’d been too exhausted to make the night before.

  “I’ve got it,” Brittany said, beaming.

  “Really?” Shaye put her phone on the desk and leaned over for a better view of the laptop.

  The site contained a time-elapse counter and two rows of numbers and letters.

  “It’s GPS coordinates,” Shaye said, excitement coursing through her.

  “Do you think they really lead to the place where Ethan is being held? Or do you think it’s a trap?”

  “I don’t know, but either way, it could provide the lead we desperately need. Thank you for this, Brittany. If you ever decide to go the private route when you graduate, let me know. I could use someone with your skill set.”

  Brittany blushed. “Thank you. That’s the coolest offer I’ve ever received and I’ll be thinking hard about it.” She looked down at the floor, then back at Shaye. “I really respect what you’re doing. You probably have more options than almost everyone living in New Orleans, but you’re doing this. This city is lucky to have you.”

  “Thank you,” Shaye said, feeling a bit embarrassed. “Personal economics are the reason I can do this, and I’m thankful for them every day.”

  “Plenty of people have money. Most of them aren’t doing anything to help others, especially at this level. I think it’s a calling. I know I can’t imagine myself doing any other kind of work.”