Sidetracked (Mindf*ck Series Book 2)
Page 7
Dev starts pushing Lindy away, practically carrying her as she screams for me. She screams for Marcus. She screams for help that doesn’t come.
Music grows louder, the sounds permeating the air with no concern for the screams they’re trying to drown out.
“Now, where were we?” Kyle drawls. “Whose turn is it?”
Kyle did silence her. He didn’t just silence her; he ruined her. Lindy suffered a loss trying to save me, but puts flowers on my grave every year. She talks to that grave, saying she’s sorry she failed me.
She goes back to that hell to speak to a dead girl who she thinks she let down.
She’s a true angel.
It’s fate that she’s so close by. Fate tells me Laurel would forever be loved and cared for by Lindy. And I’m sure no one would take a homeless child away from a loving home after what this kid has suffered.
Leaving Laurel here though? Knowing this will tie Kenneth to the killer I am? It’s a huge mistake. But I can’t leave this kid just anywhere.
I pull into the driveway, and I see a set of eyes immediately peer through a crack in the blinds. All these years later, she still feels jumpy. She likely has a gun in her hand right now.
I know the feeling.
She suffered one monster. I suffered a town full of them.
As I get out, the crack in the blinds disappears, and I gently open the door, stirring Laurel awake.
“Are we here?” she asks, her voice still scratchy.
Shit. I should have at least gotten her some water.
This is why I can’t take care of her myself. Well, that and I’m sure it’s not wise for a monster to raise a child.
Lindy will make her loving. I’ll turn her into a knife-throwing killer.
“Yes,” I tell her gently, reaching down and taking her frail, light body into my arms.
She wraps her arms around me without hesitation, adorning me with trust she shouldn’t give so freely after what she’s suffered.
She’ll survive.
She’ll overcome this.
I know that now more than ever, because only the strong could handle touch after what she’s suffered.
Lindy opens the door, peering out as I carry the child toward her.
“Who are you? What do you want?”
“It’s me, Lindy. And I’m here to see if you’re still as good as I remember.”
Just the sound of my voice has her stumbling through the door, her eyes widening in shock. She clutches the doorframe, trying to keep from sinking to the ground as her body shakes.
“You’re—”
“I know. I know. I’m dead,” I say, tired of hearing that line.
“You really are an angel,” Laurel says weakly, her head against my chest.
Lindy’s eyes swing to the child as she flips a light on, and the color drains from her face as she sees the torn clothing, the dirty skin, and the matted hair.
“This little girl has suffered too much. I told her she’d be safe here,” I say to Lindy, watching as her eyes slowly come back up to mine. “Don’t make me a liar.”
She gestures us in, and I let her take Lindy from my arms. Lindy flinches ever so slightly, but she recovers just as fast. Lindy rushes her to the couch, putting her there and covering her with a blanket.
I watch as the maternal instincts I lacked kick in for my old friend. She runs to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water, and she rushes back. Laurel practically rips the bottle from her hand, so thirsty that she drinks it too fast.
“Slow down. It’ll make you sick to drink too much,” Lindy says with a soothing voice, running her hand down Laurel’s cheek.
Laurel leans into the affectionate touch, already growing trusting of Lindy. This girl is making me want to cry. I’m too emotional. This is too risky. But she deserves a chance at being safe, loved, and happy.
“I bet you’re hungry.”
Laurel nods emphatically, and even though it’s closing in on three in the morning, Lindy rushes to the kitchen, grabbing the bread and peanut butter.
“You like PB&J?” Lindy asks.
Laurel nods, still drinking the water.
I watch patiently, a little in awe, as Lindy makes a sandwich and grabs another bottle of water.
As she hands to small girl her food, Lindy looks up to me.
“What happened to her?”
Before I can answer, Laurel answers for me. “The angel saved me from the monster. He won’t ever hurt me again. The angel will keep me safe.”
I nod toward Lindy as she covers her own mouth. Tears spring to her eyes. That’s all she needs to know.
Laurel digs into the sandwich, and I gesture for Lindy to join me in the kitchen.
As soon as we’re in there, I check to make sure Laurel hasn’t followed us.
With barely a whisper, I tell Lindy, “When this breaks the news, you come forward. Tell them a little girl showed up at your door, but you don’t know who brought her to you. The man’s name was Kenneth Ferguson. I’m sorry to ask this, but it’s the only way they may find the bodies he has buried without me giving them the information myself.”
I hand her a piece of paper, and she swallows thickly, as though she’s going to be sick.
“Is he still alive?”
I shake my head slowly.
“Good,” she says quietly, looking over at the little girl. She stares at her, and I remain silent, studying her, trying to figure out what’s in her head.
“You’re really here. Alive. Looking so different.”
“It’s really me.”
She nods, her eyes still lost and not on me.
“You’re going after them, aren’t you?” she asks in a hushed tone, her eyes coming back to meet mine.
I nod once.
“I’ve heard whispers and rumors that some of them had died, but I haven’t found it on the news. I was hoping it was true. I was wishing it was me who had the strength to do it.”
My lips twitch. “You’re strength comes from somewhere different. Somewhere more pure. Mine? Mine is hollowed out and filled with darkness, Lindy. I’m taking a huge risk by coming here.”
“But you needed that little girl to be safe,” she says, filling in the blanks. “And you trusted me.”
“You lost a lot trying to get me and my brother justice.”
Her face changes, a coldness washing over her. “That’s not your fault. I tried to tell everyone, but no one wanted to listen. Kyle tried to shut me up. He…He…”
Her voice breaks, and my lips tighten. “I know. He’ll have his day, Lindy. He’ll suffer the worst.”
She nods, her strength renewing as she angrily bats her tears away.
“Antonio left me when he believed Kyle. Kyle said I had sex with him. I told my husband I was…raped. He believed my rapist over me. Just left me.”
I nod, already knowing this. Antonio is on my list, but not for death. He’s marked for penance. Should be fun.
Jake has already started the process of ruining him, starting with bankruptcy. With any luck, the bastard will kill himself within the year when he’s homeless, penniless, and pointless.
“No one cared. No one wanted to listen. No one wanted to be bothered with something so horribly, inconceivably evil. They wanted to pretend it just didn’t exist.”
A dark smile takes over my lips. “They’ll never keep their silence again. They’ll quake in fear every time the lights go off. They’ll be the ones scared for a change. The town will burn, Lindy. It’ll burn to the ground. Trust me. I have a plan. And no one innocent will get caught in the crosshairs.”
She blows out a shaky breath. “I can’t believe you’re alive.”
She bats away fresh tears, looking over at the little girl, who is eating gratefully, oblivious to our conversation. “I’ll do whatever you need me to.”
“Make Laurel understand she can’t tell the cops I’m a woman. Make her understand she can’t tell them anything, or else I can’t stop other monsters.”
Maybe she’s more like me than I thought.
As she turns back around, returning her attention to the sandwich, Lindy whispers to me, “I want you to catch all the monsters too. Your secret is safe with me, Victoria.”
A chill runs up my spine. “It’s Lana now. They killed Victoria that night,” I tell her quietly.
She nods, understanding. “What about Diana? She tried to—”
“I know. They threatened her son,” I interrupt, waving off her concern. “She’s going to play a different part. My ducks are in a row. I’ve been patient. I’ve thought it all through. Now I just wait on the chips to fall in place, and while they play poker, I’ll be playing dominoes.”
She smirks, leaning back to grab me a bottle of water. As she hands it to me, I take one last look at Laurel.
“She’s strong. Make sure she turns out like you and not me,” I say to Lindy, whose eyes turn a little duller.
“I’m weak. I quit fighting and ran away.”
“You survived. You fought against a war alone. You’re stronger than you realize, and you’re exactly what she needs.” I sigh as I look into her teary eyes. I wish I could stay longer. “I have to go.”
I start to turn away, but suddenly she launches herself at me, and I wrap my arms around her, feeling a hug connect to so many dormant emotions. It’s the first time I’ve faced my past with a face I didn’t want to cut off.
It hurts as much as it heals.
She hugs me tightly, and I return the affection, though I’m not sure how long we stay that way.
As she pulls away, I hand her a piece of paper. She studies it, reading the directions, and nods at me, proving she’s ready to play her new role.
Just as I’m about to leave, Laurel stands on shaky legs and makes her way to me. I kneel just as she tosses her arms around my neck, catching me off guard.
Slowly, carefully, I hug her back.
“Kill all the monsters,” she whispers. “That way they don’t hurt anyone else.”
Lindy’s breath catches, and I frown. I hope her influence outshines mine in the long run.
“I’ll kill them all so you never have to,” I whisper back, even though it’s highly unlikely that it’s the right thing to say.
“Good.”
“You want a shower?” Lindy asks her.
She nods, tears coming to her eyes, as though she’s never wanted anything more.
Lindy swallows again, trying not to cry in front of the heartbreaking little girl.
“I’ll turn it on for you and give you privacy. I’ll even let you lock the door so you feel safe.”
She speaks from experience.
I used to lock my bathroom door too.
You feel vulnerable when naked and distracted by the shower. You feel like you’re too easily a target.
“I know the angel won’t let me be hurt. I don’t like locked doors,” Laurel says quietly.
My heart flutters, and Lindy swallows again. “I’ll start the shower.”
She moves down the hall, and I nod toward Laurel, letting her know she’s right; I won’t ever let anything happen to her.
She was locked up. Her scars are different from ours. She was held captive. She needs air like we need confined security.
Lindy’s scars don’t run as deep or painful as mine. One man ruined her.
So many more took a piece of me.
But the pain is just the same. Just as scary. Just as unrelenting.
She returns, and I see the bathroom door open. Apparently Laurel requested that.
“She has different scars,” I say quietly.
“I’ll learn to be what she needs. Thank you for trusting me with her. I’ve felt so pointless all these years, but if I can reconcile what happened to me by being what she needs…maybe it won’t all seem like it was pointless.”
I know the feeling.
“What do I say if they ask about Delaney Grove?” she asks quietly as the shower hums in the distance.
“Say nothing.”
Her brow furrows. “Why?”
A dark smile curves my lips. “Because there are so many more to kill. I’m not ready for everyone to know why.”
A cold look crosses her eyes.
“Then they won’t hear it from me. I’ll do whatever you need. Just make sure those sons of bitches never hurt anyone ever again.”
I hold up six fingers, and she cocks her head, confused.
“That many are already gone.”
Surprise flits across her eyes.
“Then you have a long list ahead of you.”
Chapter 11
Never contract friendship with a man who is not better than thyself.
—Confucius
LANA
When I reach the drop spot, I leave the car and keys in the parking lot, along with a couple thousand dollars under the seat. The drop spot changes all the time, and they only get a five minute warning before I’m gone.
I grab my bag of wet clothes, and the black bag from the trunk that has minimal supplies, just as all the warehouse cars have.
I toss the clothes into a trashcan, and start hiking down the road, ignoring the cars that pull over to ask if I need a ride. It isn’t until a motorcycle rolls up that I smile and roll my eyes.
“Really? How’d you make it out of your house on a motorcycle?” I groan, hopping on the back as Jake gives me a helmet.
“I didn’t,” he says with a shrug. “I picked it up from the warehouse when I went to make sure your car didn’t have any trackers or anything on it.”
I put my arms around his waist, and he pats my hand.
“Did he confess?”
“More than you know. I don’t want to talk about it right now. In fact, I never want to tell you the things he confessed to. I want to scrub it from my mind so that I’m not tempted to run down the list of every pedophile out there and repeat the same ending for them. However, there is something I need to tell you, but I’ll wait until I have the energy to deal with your rant.”
He sighs harshly while revving the bike, and he drives me all the way to the warehouse.
“I’ll send the link to the new cameras to you so you can watch Anthony in your free time,” he says as I head toward my car.
“I’ll be waiting.”
With that, I drive straight home, not even acknowledging the patrol cars at the end of my driveway.
I can’t stop them from hanging out on the street, unfortunately.
My house is unnaturally quiet, something I find peaceful instead of eerie like most people. I hurry through the motions of stepping into the shower, feeling the warm spray of the water against my back.
The sounds of footsteps have me turning off the water and stepping out of the shower. With silent movements, I wrap up in a towel and open the shower door, watching with a wary eye.
Just as silently, I open the drawer, and pull out the gun I have hidden there. Why is there a gun hidden in my bathroom? Have you ever seen a horror film? The girl always gets stabbed in the shower. Or she runs into the bathroom and locks the door, but has no way to defend herself when the psycho killer breaks in.
I could defend myself and have no plans of hiding in the bathroom, but a backup plan never hurts.
Clutching my towel with one hand and holding the gun in the other, I carefully open the bathroom door. Movement has my hand jerking to the right, but a strong hand clamps around my wrist, and my eyes swing up to meet a devastatingly familiar pair of blues.
Logan arches an eyebrow at me, and my entire body relaxes when I realize it’s not the Boogeyman in my room.
“You really do have a gun,” he says as though he’s surprised.
“Why are you in my house?” I ask, still holding the gun while he holds my wrist, keeping the barrel aim
ed away from him.
“Care if I take this?” He gestures to the gun, and I release my hold on it as he takes it away slowly, warily.
He gingerly places it on top of my nightstand, turning the safety on. Then he turns to face me again.
“I’m sorry. I really am, Lana. You have every right to be pissed.”
I exhale heavily as he takes a seat on my bed, and I clutch the towel a little tighter with both hands now.
He looks down at his hands as he rubs them together, leaning forward on my bed with his elbows resting on his knees. “I didn’t know you knew about the attack. But you’re right; I should’ve called you right away. I didn’t want to worry you, but I should’ve been prepared for somebody else tell you before I could. It won’t happen again.”
Most of my anger is gone now that I’ve stabbed a man to death, which allows me to slowly digest what he’s saying without too many emotions clogging up my logic.
But to be honest, I have no idea what to say.
Instead of speaking I continue to hold my towel, watching him as he lifts his eyes to meet my gaze.
“I’m not leaving here until this is resolved. I’m not leaving here until I know this is okay.”
I believe him.
Twice he’s shown up after I’ve returned fresh from a kill. What happens when he shows up too early? What happens when I have to explain the real reason there’s blood in my hair or on my clothes? What happens when he catches me?
Staring into his eyes, I remember why it’s so hard to walk away. Without the anger I had earlier driving me farther from his arms, I remember what it’s like to feel.
He looks tired, always tired. His tie has been loosened, hanging down below the top two buttons he’s undone. The firm, tan flesh is visible through those undone buttons.
His shirt is untucked, and his jacket is strewn across my bed, developing wrinkles as we speak.
“I mean it, Lana,” he says, drawing my attention back to his face. His blond hair is disheveled, and those firm, full lips are curved down. “I’m not leaving until we’re good, and you’re in my arms, and you let the police go back to protecting you when I’m not here.”
My lips thin as I think over my options. Leaving here without him seems to create a massive hole in my chest. I’ve been avoiding feeling the loss since I left the hospital.