“He’s lightly sedated. No clue how hard she roofied him but I didn’t want him panicking or going into shock,” Leo explained. “I need to get to my house to do the testing.”
“Not alone,” they said together.
Leo sighed. “Knew you’d say that. My shit’s in the car. You think I’m not used to you people by now?” He began to stroll toward the door that led to the adjacent garage. “I sleep in the nude, by the way, and I expect breakfast, even if I don’t put out.”
Jacoby snorted and Ward smiled a little, kept his eye on Leo through the monitors until he was back in the house with his heavy suitcase.
“I’ll take my usual suite,” Leo said as he gloved up and pulled out a swab. “First things first though. Open wide, sweetheart.”
Jacoby muttered, “Fuck you,” and then did as he was told. Leo swabbed the inside of his cheek. “Give me an hour.”
“Leo?” Jacoby asked.
Leo frowned. “Yes, he was raped. Secretions on his penis…and he was abused anally.”
Jacoby sucked in a rough breath and stood, turned away, shoulders squared as if for battle. The explosive anger could come at any time, but in order to keep Bren calm…
“J, think of Bren,” Ward said.
“I’m with you,” Jacoby answered.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The time passed slowly. Finally, Leo came up the stairs and sat heavily on the couch across from them, and didn’t make them wait before diving in. “Definite DNA match with you, Jacoby, on the paternal side. I did it twice and yeah, it would definitely hold up in court. It’s a near perfect match.”
Jacoby nodded numbly as Ward said, “Physically, Bren’ll be fine. Mentally…”
“Yeah, well, that’s Jessica’s game,” Jacoby said roughly. He looked toward the guest room door. “I’ll go talk to him.”
“He’s out,” Leo reminded him.
Jacoby shook his head. “He’s awake. Trust me.”
And Bren was, propped on two pillows, his arms behind his head, the covers pulled up to his neck. The air was on, and the room was cool and comfortable, but there were no signs of comfort on Bren’s face.
Jacoby walked to the bed and then lay down next to Bren without bothering to ask for permission. Hell, wasn’t that what family did—barge in wherever the hell they wanted to? “We’re a match.”
“I guess you’re like the consolation prize,” Bren said.
“Another good one. I guess you inherited my wit.”
Bren snorted. There was silence for a few moments and then he asked, “Is this really fucking happening?”
“I wish I could say no.”
“Me too.” Jacoby lay on his back now, watching the TV make patterns on the ceiling. It was on mute, so it was quiet as anything. “I don’t know what the next steps with you are.”
“Me neither. Is she going to come back for me?”
“Maybe. But she’s toyed with you enough to scar you for life. That usually buys you a little time.”
“That’s supposed to be comforting, right?”
“Is it working?”
“Oddly enough…it might be.”
“There you go.” Jacoby turned his head to find Bren staring at him. “She’s not human. You can’t think about her as a relative. She’s just…”
“Someone I put myself in danger to write about. God, how fucking stupid. I’m surprised you’re not saying I told you so.”
“In my head, I am,” Jacoby told him.
Bren glanced at him. “Fuck you.”
“That’s the spirit—get pissed, Bren. Don’t give up on me—just get pissed.” Jacoby glanced at the door. “Ward and I have some questions.”
“Get them over with,” Bren said tiredly.
Jacoby didn’t ask if he was sure, simply got up and called Ward in. When Ward sat in a chair at the side of the bed, Jacoby took his place next to Bren again.
“Did you see her kill Jasper?” Bren looked at Jacoby, confused. Ward refocused him by adding, “The man you knew as Jasper. His real name was William Landau, but calling him Jasper will be less confusing for you.”
Bren managed, “I drove to where I was supposed to meet Jasper, the house he was renting. In the middle of nowhere, but I justified that. I mean, he’s in hiding.” He stared at Jacoby, remembering that actually Jacoby was the one in hiding, but he swallowed that back. “He was late. Like three hours late and I almost left.”
“Did he say what he’d been doing?” Ward asked.
“No. Just that he got held up.” Bren stared at Ward. “I guess that’s when he was murdering people in my basement.”
Ward nodded. “We believe he did that while you were still in your own cabin.”
“Fuck.” Bren rubbed his forehead. “I still feel numb. Maybe I should be grateful. Look, he rambled on and on. He drank wine—I saw him open the bottle and then suddenly, he was frozen. And then she walked in.”
“She drugged the rim of the glass—probably all of them,” Ward offered.
“How did he get lucky enough to drink it and I didn’t?” Bren asked.
“She knows what she’s doing,” was all Jacoby muttered.
“What’s the last thing you remember about Jasper?” Ward pushed.
Bren shut his eyes for a second. He pictured Jasper, sitting across from him, the unmistakable panic in his eyes. “I might’ve been able to help him.”
“He was a killer too, Bren,” Ward reminded him gently.
Bren sighed. “She drugged me too. It took hours of talking before she did it. I actually thought…maybe I might be safe. I was so stupid. And no, I don’t know what happened to Jasper. All I know is that I was drugged too and she dragged me away and that’s the last time I saw him. So what happened to him?”
Ward and Jacoby glanced at each other.
“Tell me,” Bren demanded. “She told me she’d scar him. I figured she’d do that but leave him alive.”
“She didn’t,” Ward said quickly. “But she did scar him.”
“She talked about him,” Bren admitted.
“We figured you’d be able to shed some light on him,” Jacoby admitted. “We know he was the Couples Killer, but that’s about it for the moment.”
Bren rubbed his head, the ache inside impossible to ignore for much longer. “She said they’d started out as lovers. That he’d wanted to join forces with her like Bonnie and Clyde to become the greatest serial killing team ever. But she didn’t want that. She’d always worked alone and she began to resent that he thought he was on her level. He’d come to her to learn and he became a pest. She was annoyed that she’d bought into it. Told me it was a weak moment in her life, because she missed her brother.” He paused. “I’m sorry.”
“For what? I don’t buy into her guilt bullshit anymore. You can’t either.” Jacoby shifted. “Did she say where William was from?”
“No. Just that he’d gotten in touch on a message board and from there, he’d gone to see her in England. Hell, I don’t even know if his accent was real or not. I was going to ask her but…”
But the drugs, Jacoby wanted to tell him. And then the hell. And now…
And now, the aftermath. It wasn’t over. Might never be, and Bren no doubt finally truly understood why—Jacoby was so rough on him when he was trying to save Bren’s innocence.
But Jacoby was angrier at himself than he could ever be at Bren.
*
The first twenty-four hours after it happened was actually the easiest time. Bren figured it was because he was still drugged, partially in denial, thinking it was all a dream. He’d talked to Jacoby and Ward about it, sounding somewhat reasonable and feeling pretty damned numb. But when reality landed like a brick in his psyche…well, he turned into himself and refused to come out. It was all too horrible to deal with. He didn’t want to speak to his editor or agent or his readers.
But the kicker was that he remained in Ward’s house, in the same guest room where Jacoby had once been brought after
Jessica managed to scar him for life.
“She’s not really my sister,” he murmured at points during those first days, hoping Jacoby would agree. But he wouldn’t. And he kept wondering why she hadn’t outwardly scarred him—she’d done both to Jacoby.
She should’ve killed me. That thought continued to override everything else. Despite the fact that he was physically unscathed, he would never get over what happened.
“I’ll catch her,” Jacoby promised, making Bren realize he might’ve said it out loud. “I’ll finish what I should’ve from the start. Fuck, this is my fault.”
It was the first—the only—thing that pulled Bren out of his pity party shell he’d been unable to crack. He put his arms around his brother, two damaged individuals clinging to each other for dear life. “I know you will.”
If Jacoby was surprised he spoke, he didn’t let on.
Bren’s voice sounded rusty from underuse to his own ears, and it was odd to hear it echoing around him instead of inside his own head as Bren murmured, “Can’t let her win,” over and over.
*
Three weeks later, he was functioning better, thanks to anti-anxiety meds, but for the most part remained in the safety of Ward’s house.
He knew he’d never be safe again, but he wasn’t going to talk to Jacoby or Ward about it. No, he’d play along, get his meds…and then move on. Fast. Just like he was supposed to.
“Can I come in?” Jacoby asked from outside the door.
“Yes,” Bren called. He was sprawled on the bed, tired from his short outing, and expecting Jacoby to find him. Before Jacoby sat down next to him, Bren said, “I’m sorry I was so ready to put it out there like you didn’t matter.” He sighed. “Learned my lesson.”
“Hell of a way to learn a lesson. Shouldn’t have happened.”
Bren laughed, with zero humor behind it. “I drove myself to her, delivered myself to a serial killer on a silver platter because I was so sure I was untouchable, that I was chosen to tell this story. I wouldn’t listen to a goddamned thing you said.”
“You still don’t deserve it,” Jacoby said stubbornly.
“I’m not publishing it,” Bren added.
“You earned the right to.”
Bren shook his head hard. “She’s not getting a fucking reward with her name in lights. I can turn it all over to the FBI to study, but that’s as far as it goes.”
“What about all the money you’ll have to repay to your publisher?”
Bren shrugged. “I’ll sell the house.”
“Let me help you.”
“Because that’s what family’s for?”
“Should be, yeah.”
“Thanks. I’ll be okay. I was before.”
“We kept this pretty quiet…but you’re going to get calls. People will write tell-alls…why shouldn’t you be the one to tell your story—as much or as little as you wanted.”
Bren wrapped his arms tightly around himself and stared out the window.
Jacoby didn’t push it—he knew the trauma all too well. “Look—I’m here. I want a relationship with you, all right?”
Bren nodded, woodenly, but Jacoby could feel him slipping away. “I was adopted. Obviously,” Bren added, as if that might make Jacoby rethink things.
“Any chance your adoptive mom was really your mom?” Jacoby asked.
“At this point, I don’t know what isn’t possible.” Bren rubbed his fist against his thigh. “I had that appointment today. Leo drove me.”
“Glad you kept it.” Jacoby was relieved that Bren hadn’t blown the shrink off. Jacoby hadn’t set up the Leo-as-chauffeur thing, which meant Leo probably reached out and offered on his own.
“He’s pretty cool—the shrink and Leo.” Bren paused. “And yeah, I made another appointment and I have his Skype address. But I’ll avoid that for a while.”
“Good move.”
Bren studied him, then pointed to a heavy folder on the edge of the bed. “The book’s dead in the water.”
“Doesn’t have to be.”
Bren laughed, a harsh sound. “Ironic, right—you trying to encourage me to write the damned thing. But I need to know from you if any of this is the truth. I know you need to know it to, in order to make the connections. I also want to know if this actually happened to you because…I need to know. Especially now. Does that make sense?”
Jacoby nodded, his expression taut. “Everything he told you—it happened to me.”
“Even what she did during the time you were kidnapped?” Bren asked.
“Even that,” Jacoby agreed.
Bren felt a chill go through him and he knew for sure that nothing would ever be right again. “How the fuck do you deal with it?”
Jacoby swallowed hard. “She hates me as much as she loves me. That’s why she can’t kill me. That’s why I can’t kill her.”
“And no one else has come close?”
“Ward has. Too close. He should be dead. And one day, she’ll finish the job, and he knows it.”
“He doesn’t kill her because he loves you.” Bren whispered it, but still, it echoed like a shout in his mind.
Judging by the look on Jacoby’s face, Bren’d hit the nail on the head.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ward had his assistant supervise the packing up of Bren’s house—most of his things were moved into storage, and his clothing and computers were brought to Ward’s, along with Bren’s car.
It now sat, full of Bren’s belongings, with a full tank of gas, at the edge of the driveway. And Bren was more than ready to leave.
Jacoby was doing his best to get Bren to stay, even though he knew it would be no use. He understood Bren’s need to go, to run…but he was also suspicious of his motives.
“I guess that’s everything,” Bren said, avoiding Jacoby’s gaze, the way he’d been doing since he’d come out of his drugged haze.
“No, there’s something else,” Jacoby told him as they stood in Ward’s driveway.
“Like what?” Bren asked dully.
“I’m waiting for you to share it with me.”
Bren frowned. “I’ve been over and over what happened to me. I’ll have nightmares for the rest of my fucking life, okay? All I want to do is get away and try to get on with things.”
“And I want you to stay.”
“Fuck, I can’t. You need to understand that.” Bren’s tone, his eyes, were both pleading…but both broadcast a much different reason than what Bren was giving lip service to. Jacoby was probably the only one who could see it immediately, because not that long ago he was the one lying, to everyone…to himself.
Let him go… “Fine. I get it, man. Gotta do what you’ve got to do.”
“Thanks.” Bren hesitated for a brief second, and then reached out tentatively for a one-armed hug. Instead, Jacoby yanked him into a double-armed one, murmuring, “I’ll make sure it’s okay, Bren. Promise.”
Bren stepped back. Nodded. Licked his lips. But he didn’t say anything, like he was too nervous…like he was worried he might give something away. Instead, he waved and walked slowly toward his car. For several minutes, he sat behind the wheel, unmoving and Jacoby prayed he’d changed his mind…
But he hadn’t.
Ward joined him outside. Jacoby stayed strong until Bren’s car was out of sight, and then his body seemed to sag under the weight of the burdens, the memories that plagued his mind. “He won’t be in touch for a while.”
“You okay with that?”
“Didn’t realize I had a choice,” Jacoby said irritably.
“He’s a part of your life—our lives,” Ward stressed.
“He’s not going to want any part of it,” Jacoby said. “What he does want is for me to tell him that everything Jasper said about my life is a lie. That I’m normal, like him. And he knows that I can’t do that. His association with his family has cost him physically and emotionally. To keep his sanity in check, he’s got to leave it—and me—behind.”
“We ca
n put him in WITSEC.”
Jacoby smiled wanly. “He’s already in isolation, Ward. How much more will he handle?”
“The infinite capacity for what we can handle always surprises me, J.”
“She pulled the same shit with him that she did with me, the ‘leave or I’ll go after Jacoby and Ward,’” he said tiredly.
“She made you leave, but she didn’t come after you,” Ward reasoned. “You think she’ll follow him?”
“Maybe she knows we’ll follow. But Bren doesn’t. And if we tell him, I think he’ll give himself away.”
“Or maybe he’s in on it.”
“Christ.” Jacoby ran his hands through his hair. “That was not an act. No one’s that good. She raped him. I have zero doubt she threatened him, the same way she threatened me.”
“That was after the fact.”
“Didn’t matter—she got what she wanted—and that’s to hurt me,” Jacoby told him. “Bren…he can make her even more famous…but it’s still me she wants.”
“And she’s not getting you,” Ward said firmly. “I’ve got equipment all over the car, his computer, his person, plus a couple of live tails. If you’re right…”
“Then all I have to do is follow him and force Jessica’s hand. Make her think that Bren is breaking her rules.”
“We follow him. Show her you’re breaking all the rules too,” Ward said.
Jacoby sighed. “As much as I hate pulling you in…”
“You hate pulling Bren in more.” Ward paused. “J, he’s in. Big time. This might be the only way to give him some peace.”
“Or get him killed,” Jacoby commented.
Ward didn’t rebut that, because he couldn’t. “We’ve got to make it seem like he’s in on the whole thing.”
Jacoby stared at his phone, the number burned into his brain. She could’ve changed it, sure…but there was no way she would’ve. She had him too turned around, too guilt-ridden.
That was about to end.
“She knows everything,” Ward said slowly. “Or she thinks she does.”
Rule of Thirds (A Mirror Novel Book 1) Page 16
