by T. R. Ragan
Click.
The light came on.
She jerked her head around.
The monster was sitting on the edge of the bed. No mask. No beard. How the hell had he returned to the room without her noticing? She’d dozed off for such a short time...waiting for him to do the same.
“Did you really think I was that stupid?” he asked.
She grabbed her knife, snapped the blade open and pointed the blade at him.
“I must admit, I never guessed you were still armed. You’re a clever girl.”
“I don’t want to use this on you, but I will if I have to,” she said. “You look pale. You really should have gone to the hospital for that knife wound.”
“Look what you’ve done to the room.” He looked around, unbothered by the glint of her sharp blade, more upset by the mess on the floor.
She looked at his chest. If she was going to live to see another day, she needed to strike him hard and deep. She needed to plunge the knife into his heart, because even the devil possessed a beating, pulsing heart.
“It stinks in here,” he said. “Tsk. Tsk.”
“Let me go,” she told him, “and I’ll leave you alone. I won’t tell anyone what you’ve done. I’ll walk away. It’s not too late for you to put this whole ugly mess behind you. They’ll never catch you if you stop before you’ve gone too far.”
The smile on his face was creepy.
He was never going to let her go.
He lifted his hands. His fingers were short and stubby. He wore a wedding ring on his left ring finger. She hadn’t noticed the ring before.
“I believe in justice and the American way,” he told her. “Fairness and respect above all else. If you don’t have respect for your peers and your elders then you’re worthless to society.” He wore slacks and a running jacket. When he reached into his jacket pocket, she lunged for him, but he was too far away and she came up short. The blade struck the mattress instead of his heart.
Before she could take another swipe at him, he put a metal device into her side.
Zap.
She jerked forward. It was as if she’d been hit by lightning. Her body stiffened and cramped. She couldn’t move. She gasped for breath. Every muscle contracted. The pain was unbearable. She crumpled to the floor.
He stood over her.
She wanted to tell him to fuck off, but it was useless. She couldn’t say a word, couldn’t move an inch.
Dull, lifeless eyes looked down at her. He unclasped the knife from her hand, and without any warning, he leaned over and used its sharp edge to slice off the pinky finger from her right hand. She couldn’t see what he was doing but she could feel it.
When he was done, he held up the bloodied digit. “I don’t like tattoos. They can kill you, you know.”
She could feel her muscles begin to relax. Blood oozed from her hand as she watched him set her severed finger on the bedside table. Then he reached into his pocket again and this time he pulled out a syringe. He walked back to where she lay and plunged the needle into her arm.
Chapter 32
Sunday, February 21, 2010 9:02 AM
Nine o’clock the next morning Lizzy and Jared were once again at the FBI headquarters in Sacramento. Ten minutes ago, they were ushered into a conference room where three men were already seated.
Lizzy sat across the table from Jared. She recognized Ronald Holt, who sat next to Jared. The other two agents were unfamiliar to her.
Jimmy stood in the hallway talking to a woman before finally joining them in the conference room. He shut the door, and then took a seat at the head of the table. Before saying a word, he slid two eight-by-ten sketches across the table toward Lizzy.
Lizzy held the picture up. It was a penciled drawing of a man wearing a mask. The other picture was of the same man sporting a beard. The man’s eyes had been drawn to reflect a light color. In her sleep, Spiderman’s eyes were always dark. The eyes in the picture bore into hers. Whoever had drawn the pictures had an incredible artistic knack for this sort of work. The eyes were downright chilling. “This looks like him,” Lizzy said as she stared at the eerily accurate sketch: the high forehead, strong jaw, larger than average ears. Chills crept up her arms.
“The artist spent the past two days working with the student from Cosumnes River College and your therapist, Linda Gates,” Jimmy told her. “They both agreed that this is a good likeness of the man they saw.”
“Except for the eyes,” Lizzy said. “Didn’t they both say he wore sunglasses? If so, they couldn’t have seen his eyes.”
“That’s why the eyes weren’t drawn too wide or too narrow.”
Jared reached across the table for one of the pictures and took a long look. “Have these sketches been distributed?”
Jimmy looked at his watch. “As of six o’clock this morning, both pictures were shown on news stations across America.”
Jared looked pleased.
Lizzy wasn’t sure what to think, although she was glad the public was being informed even if the picture wasn’t one hundred percent accurate.
Everyone in the room looked tired and overworked. Jimmy looked around the room and said, “Okay, people, I want to hear some chatter. What have you got? Give me something to chew on. Surprise me. Anything.” He gestured at the big man at the far end of the table. “Matt, what about the phone taps? What have you got so far?”
Matt cleared his throat. “UNSUB has been using disposable phones and apparently tossing them after one use.”
“Doesn’t he have to sign a contract to buy a phone?” Lizzy asked.
Matt shook his head. “He pays cash.”
“Prepaid cell phones offer anonymity,” Jared explained. “No names. No contract. He uses the phone and then tosses it.”
“What about you, Holt?” Jimmy rambled on. “Who’s watching the Warner house?”
“Cameron’s on duty today. I haven’t seen anything unusual since I’ve been parked there. It’s a quiet street.”
Lizzy was relieved to hear it. For the past few nights she’d been waking up in a sweat, worried about Brittany and Cathy.
“We’ve got two notes now.” Jimmy looked around the room. “Fingerprints? Anything?”
Matt shook his head. “UNSUB wears gloves and he’s just real meticulous with everything he touches. No fingerprints at the Moreno location or on either of the notes.”
The door to the conference room opened. A young woman poked her head in the room to tell Jimmy he had an important call on line seven. Jimmy picked up the receiver and hit the button. By the time he hung up, his eyes looked haunted, as if he’d received some sort of death sentence.
He took a moment to refocus before he spoke again. Jimmy entwined his fingers and looked at the picture of the man with the mask. “I want to get the bastard. I want him today. Hayley has been gone for two nights. We’re running out of time.”
“What about Frank Lyle?” Jared asked the team of investigators. “Has he changed his story?”
Matt spoke up again. “Frank Lyle is sticking to his original story. He adamantly refuses to back down. Says he killed all of the girls fourteen years ago, including the ones who went missing. But he doesn’t have any proof. Won’t say where the bodies are buried. Most who have interviewed him believe he’s lying. He likes the attention.”
“What about the house of horrors?” Jimmy asked, his voice lined with frustration. “The excavation, the Rolex, the spiders, the bite marks?”
“Excavation was clean,” a man named Tom said. “Nothing but dirt and rocks.” Tom removed his glasses and used a cloth from his coat pocket to clean the lenses as he spoke. “I was able to locate the pawn shop where Betsy Raeburn sold the Rolex. Problem is the owner of the shop has no record of where the watch went after it was bought. Unlike the purchasing receipts, the sales records go back seven years, not fourteen.”
“What about going public with the Rolex and describing the inscription, SJ loves SW,” Lizzy said. “Maybe somebody will
recognize the initials.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Jimmy said.
Ronald scribbled something in his notebook.
“If this is Spiderman we’re dealing with,” Matt said, “why is he killing random reporters and girls straight off the curb? What happened to his meticulous plotting and carefully laid out plans I’ve heard so much about?”
“Spiderman is not the same man he used to be. He’s desperate,” Jared said. “Spiderman has switched his MO from serial killer to killing spree. It doesn’t happen often, but my bet is Spiderman found a way to live his life for the past fourteen years without killing. Whatever he was doing worked for a while...at least until Frank Lyle came into the picture. Serial killers like to take credit for their own work. Getting away with murder, time after time, year after year, makes them feel superior. But then Frank Lyle kills a young girl in the same manner as Spiderman and after Lyle is captured he tells the world that he’s our man, the guy responsible for at least six murders. This enrages Spiderman. So much so, he can’t help but come out of hiding. His anger toward Lyle throws him off balance. He’s older now, but not necessarily wiser. He desperately wants the world to know that he’s back. He watches the news, reads the papers, learns that Lizzy was not who he thought. All that pent up anger inside of him turns away from Lyle who is locked up behind bars and is instead directed at the girl who got away.”
Lizzy rubbed her arms.
“All right,” Jimmy said, “let’s get down to business. The reason Lizzy is sitting in today is because she has offered herself up as bait.”
All eyes fell on Jared, who was shaking his head. “I don’t like it and I don’t think Spiderman’s going to fall for it, especially after being set up by Hayley. But Lizzy has a mind of her own and she’s stubborn as hell.”
With a nod of her head, Lizzy confirmed what Jared had said.
“Okay,” Jimmy said, “I guess the only questions left are when, where, and how?”
Sunday, February 21, 2010 5:07 PM
“Hey there,” Lizzy said when Jessica opened her eyes.
“Hey.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Great.”
Lizzy smiled because the question was more ridiculous than Jessica’s answer. The girl had tubes running in and out of her body, and she looked like shit.
“I had no idea the man had a gun,” Jessica told her in a hoarse voice.
“What made you think Gilman was our man?”
“He used to be my brother’s math teacher. He was also a tutor. My brother, Scott, stayed late one day because Gilman offered to help him study for an exam.” Jessica swallowed. Her lips were dry and cracked. “I still remember the night my brother returned home after being tutored. He wasn’t the same. I teased him, which wasn’t unusual because we always teased one another. But this time my brother got angry and I started crying. Before I knew it, my brother was crying too, and suddenly he was telling Mom and Dad that his math teacher had touched him. It was a horrible time for our family. Dad went to the school the next day and raised hell.”
“Was Gilman arrested?”
“I don’t remember what happened after that because days later Mary went missing and Gilman and my brother were all but forgotten.”
Lizzy reached over the railing and took a hold of Jessica’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“When I listened to your message,” Jessica said, “and you told me to add Gilman and Sullivan to our list of suspects, I thought for sure Gilman was Spiderman. At the very least, I figured he was the person who took Mary. It all made sense, you know, since two days after Dad complained to the authorities, Mary went missing. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t made the connection years ago. I still can’t believe I was wrong.”
Lizzy found a tube of Vaseline and held it out so Jessica could smear some of the gel onto her dry lips.
“You know something about Mary, don’t you?” Jessica asked after rubbing the ointment on her lips.
Although Lizzy was surprised by the statement, she found herself nodding.
“I thought so. You had a strange look on your face after I showed you the picture. You saw her, didn’t you?”
Lizzy swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry.”
“You have to tell me. I need to know. Was she tortured like the others?”
Lizzy didn’t know what to say, couldn’t bear to tell Jessica what she’d seen, but she knew she had to try. “Two nights after I was abducted, I awoke in an unfamiliar room in an average looking house. I was tied up, but I managed to get myself untangled from the ropes. My leg was messed up. I was at the back door, about to escape, when I heard someone cry out from inside the house. The moment I heard the cries, I knew I couldn’t leave without helping. I found your sister right away. I don’t remember untying her, but I remember holding her in my arms.” Lizzy’s voice cracked as she squeezed her fingers tight around the railing, recalling how frail and weak Mary had been. “We were so close to escaping.” She exhaled. “Mary and I almost got away.”
Jessica’s hand slid over Lizzy’s. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault, Lizzy. You went back for my sister and paid a terrible price. You tried and that’s all anybody could have done.”
“I wanted to save her.” Lizzy’s eyes burned from the memory. “More than anything in the world, I wanted to bring Mary home to her family. That’s all I wanted.”
Sunday, February 21, 2010 11:23 PM
The day dragged on in the same way Christmas Eve drags on when you’re a child waiting for Santa to come down the chimney. Lizzy wanted tomorrow to come. She wanted tomorrow to come because she had a hunch their plan just might work. Once she saw Spiderman face to face, she could tell him what she’d always wanted to tell him—to go to hell where he belonged.
Lizzy sat motionless in front of the television thinking about tomorrow while Jared sat next to her doing paperwork. The interview between her and Detective Holt had already hit the local news stations, many of which played the interview every hour on the hour. The public was being warned to keep an eye on their children and lock their doors. Most news stations had been led to believe that the taped interview had been leaked by an FBI insider. The media executives had no idea they’d been set up. Even if they had known, Lizzy thought, they wouldn’t have cared. A story was a story.
After this morning’s meeting, Lizzy was taken into a room where Detective Holt interrogated her. Lizzy was purposely asked questions that would enable her to answer in such a way that would aggravate Spiderman. After losing Sophie, Jimmy had decided that Lizzy’s idea to provoke Spiderman was worth the gamble. They would try and distract him and give Hayley a chance at staying alive for another day.
Lizzy watched, praying she had done the right thing.
“What do you know about Spiderman?” Holt was a big, burly man, his booming voice intimidating.
Lizzy had remained calm throughout the interview. “He’s a coward,” she’d replied as rehearsed. “A sniveling gutless coward.” Lizzy wanted to poke Spiderman’s pride where it would hurt the most.
“Where do you think Spiderman is now?” Detective Holt asked.
“He’s hiding,” she said. “Cowards hide.”
“Do you think he’ll come after you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“He’s afraid of me.”
“How so?”
“Because I’m the one who got away. I’m smarter than he is, and he knows it.”
“Did he ever tell you anything about himself or talk about why he does the horrific things he does?”
“He has a problem with his father.”
“How so?”
“He wanted his father’s love, and he obviously never got it. Spiderman wore a Rolex, a Perpetual Sea-Dweller, just like the one his father used to wear. Spiderman loved his Rolex. He liked to touch it lovingly as if it were a pet. That’s why I took his watch from him before I escaped.”
“What did you do with the watch?”
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She shrugged nonchalantly. “I gave it away.”
“Why?”
“It meant nothing to me. I didn’t want anything to do with his watch. I took it because I didn’t want him to have it. I wanted to take something from him that mattered to him.”
“Do you know Spiderman’s name?”
“No. But ‘SJ loves SW’ was engraved on the watch, so his name could be Shawn, Sebastian, Simon, Scott...who knows?”
Lizzy pointed the remote control at the television and pushed the OFF button. She’d seen enough.
Jared stopped writing and put his papers to the side. “You should get some sleep,” he said. “Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”
She leaned against him. Her head rested against his shoulder. The apartment was quiet. Too quiet. She missed Maggie. After a moment she said, “If I hadn’t been taken that night, do you think we would have stayed together?”
“There’s no doubt in my mind.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Would we have married?”
“Definitely.”
“What about children?”
“Two girls and a boy. You would still be complaining about the extra weight you gained from the last pregnancy.”
She smiled inwardly, hoping to be swept away in their fantasy game. “What are their names?”
“Our first born would have been named Katherine Elizabeth, Kate for short.”
“I like that.” She reached for his hand and curled her fingers between his. She liked the way her fingers felt lodged between his. “What about the other kids?”
“Our second child would have been named Savannah Ruth and our boy would have been named Adonis because I don’t think that name has been used enough.”
