The Unhinged
Page 20
“We can’t—” his mom began. Then, “I mean…I don’t know…”
“She’ll lie to the cops,” Aaron said. He stared at the girl, needing to really see her, to make sure. “Everything will come out.”
“Maybe we can find the video on one of the computers and erase it,” his mom said.
“I’m sure he made backups, but knowing the kind of monster he is, seeing this place, I’m also sure he kept them all in this house. Destroy the house and everything in it, and then we don’t have to worry.”
“I don’t know about this,” his mom said. “I mean, she’s a girl…” She ran shaky fingers through her hair.
The girl stopped laughing, her face deadpan. A frown formed on her face, eyes squinting. She looked ready to cry. “Please,” she said, hands together in prayer formation, “don’t kill me. I’m all messed up in here.” She patted the side of her head. “The things that were done to me…” She looked down; tears dotted the cement floor. Glancing back up, she locked eyes with Aaron. “My father…he stole me from my real parents when I was a baby. He’s a very bad man. I need help. I need to be rescued. I’m only sixteen. Please, you have to help me.”
Something in Aaron’s chest hitched and he thought it was his heart feeling something for the girl. She’d been such a monster only moments ago and was now a completely different person.
“She’s good, Aaron,” his mom said. “But I don’t buy it for a second.”
Aaron looked at his mom. Her face was rigid. “Like you said, she’ll fuck everything up, get you tossed in prison. She’s only trying to save her ass. Someone who can do that to another person is broken, forever.”
Aaron remembered the limbless woman. He wondered how he could have forgotten where he was and who he was dealing with. Sixteen or not, the girl was a monster.
His gun arm stiffened, the weapon’s barrel aimed at the girl’s head.
“No, don’t,” she shrieked, wincing.
Aaron felt pity again for the girl, wondering if she really was just a victim and still young enough to be turned around. Then the girl lowered her arms. Her trembling lips formed a grin. She threw her head back and cackled, then shimmied up the beam using her arms and got to her feet.
“I’ll rip off your cock with my teeth and chew it for dinner, momma’s boy!” she screamed and fruitlessly reached for Aaron. “I’ll make—”
Aaron pulled the trigger, silencing the girl. A hole appeared in her forehead as the bullet entered. Blood, skull and brain matter exploded from the back of her head, hair fluttering wildly. She fell back. Her taped wrists caught against the beam and she crumpled to the floor.
Without wasting another moment, Aaron shoved the gun back into the waistband of his pants, scooped up the mumbling woman from the couch, and together with his mom, left the house.
Outside, he placed the woman in the back of the Impala, then gave his mom the set of keys he’d taken from the phony cop—Chevy car keys attached—and told her to start the engine and wait. He hit the garage door opener that was attached to the sun visor and then headed to the garage.
Inside, he found a half-filled five-gallon gasoline can and carried it into the house. He went to the basement, doused the stage and corpses, then left a trail of gasoline up the stairs.
Leaving the basement door open, he went to the kitchen and turned the knobs on the stove without lighting the burners. The hiss of gas sounded like a den of serpents. Next, he grabbed a wooden stirring spoon from a drawer and wrapped the hand towel that had been hanging on the oven door’s handle around it. He found a book of matches in another drawer and lit the makeshift torch, went to the basement and tossed it onto the stairs. The gasoline-soaked wood ignited. A line of fire traveled down the stairs and into the basement. Satisfied, Aaron returned to the car.
His mom had gotten into the back seat to keep the woman from sliding around while he drove. Barbara’s car was not at the end of the road where his mother had left her. His mom dialed Barbara’s number, but the call went to voicemail.
“We have to leave,” Aaron said.
“I know,” his mother agreed. “I just don’t know where the hell she could have gone. She knew how important this was.”
Aaron had a sinking sensation and worried the phony cop, or the man with the scar, had abducted her. Not wanting to worry his mom, he said, “Maybe something important came up. Let’s get this woman to a hospital, then we’ll find Barbara.”
With that, Aaron took off.
Chapter Twenty-One
A week later, and the daily routines of old returned for Aaron. He was back at work, Hanna too. But things were far from normal. The worst moments were nights when he was alone in his room. His mind was free to concentrate on all the recent horrors he’d experienced. To help counteract this, he kept the radio on and tuned to a twenty-four-hour sports-talk station. He was interested in sports, especially baseball and football. With New York having so many sports teams, the topics and news never grew old.
Of course his mind didn’t always do what he wanted it to and thoughts of Hanna’s uncle or his mom’s rape or the phony cop would creep in. And he dreamed of those events too, sometimes with the cop coming back to life and tormenting him further.
Aaron didn’t always keep himself from thinking about everything. He knew he had to deal with it or he’d never get past it. Even though it was painful, he thought about things, wondered. He also talked with his mom about the things he was able to, helping them both in the process.
Surprisingly, he thought about the horrors when he was at work, manning the dishwasher or in the basement crushing boxes or getting supplies. There was no radio, nothing to distract him. But little by little, day by day, he was learning to deal with the decisions he’d made and the things he’d been a part of. One day at a time became his motto.
He originally thought being with Hanna would be difficult, but because of what happened to his mom, he didn’t have to pretend to always be upbeat or happy all the time. Hanna understood how such a thing could affect him and was always supportive of his moods. She herself was still upset about her uncle.
Kelly remained at home, her frame of mind not good enough for her to return to work. She was medicated and seeing a counselor to help her deal with the rape and the death of her friend, Barbara. She felt completely responsible for the woman’s demise. It was she who had told Barbara about the rape and asked for help in dealing with the psycho cop. Ultimately, Kelly wound up getting Barbara killed by involving her. And to make matters worse, there was no reason Barbara needed to die.
After leaving the phony cop’s house, Aaron drove home and got his car. He followed Kelly—who was driving the Impala—out to a field. They left the Impala there with the woman in the back seat. The lockbox of pictures was left in the front. Everything was perfectly set up.
Aaron called 911 from a pay phone and gave an anonymous report, telling the operator some kids stumbled upon a mutilated woman who was in desperate need of medical assistance.
It had taken the cops thirty minutes to find the Impala. The woman was saved and taken to an undisclosed location once the media found out she was a surviving victim of what the media called Horror House. The house itself had burned to the ground, but the secret underground torture room remained intact.
Barbara’s body was found in the trunk of the Impala. She had been bound, gagged and drugged with a powerful sedative. She had thrown up and choked on her vomit. Based on the timeline, she had been alive when Aaron and his mom left the car in the field.
Dental records were used to identify the charred remains of two bodies found in Horror House, but only one was identifiable. It turned out the cop’s name was Kyle, Kyle Whitmore. The man was survived by an aunt in Florida who said she hadn’t been in contact with him for over ten years. The other body was a young female’s, but with no dental match found, the corpse went into the ground as a Jane Doe.
A month after Horror House had been exposed, Aaron was finally able to relax a little, realizing the video of him robbing the liquor store wasn’t going to be found. He still had plenty of other issues to deal with, including killing the girl.
But after watching a week’s worth of televised reports and reading numerous articles—Horror House was a national story—he was sure he’d done the right thing. Hundreds of families would now have closure their missing loved ones and a large evil was vanquished.
Of course, the man with the scar was never apprehended or even mentioned in the news. Whether the FBI was aware of him or not, Aaron didn’t know. He figured Maniacal Scar Boy was most likely long gone, though his mom had purchased another shotgun for him to keep in his room, just in case.
Aaron continued to keep an eye out and search for the man with the scar. He drove throughout the county, checking in every hole he could find, but came up with nothing. No one had remembered ever seeing such a man.
After thinking about it, he realized the FBI must be aware of the man with the scar and had him on some kind of watch list. The man was clearly identifiable in some of the pictures he’d found in the lockbox.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Three months had gone by since the man with the scar’s family had been partially destroyed. His trophies were gone. From the minute he had discovered what had happened, he had known he would need to start over. Somewhere far away. Tabitha and Jack were still with him. He was glad the girl was old enough to take care of her brother. If she’d been younger, he might have had to get rid of them. But he loved them, as much as a man like him could love anything. Family was important for a number of reasons.
Before meeting Kyle, he’d been alone for a long time. Killing was the most personal thing a person could do. A secret that had to be kept or he’d get caught. Tell no one and no one would find out—unless, of course, he was careless, which he had been at one time. But then he’d run into Kyle and together they formed one hell of a team.
They had met twenty years ago when Kyle caught the man with the scar abducting a woman as she was walking through a parking lot late at night. Kyle followed him to his house. Kyle knew he’d found a man with similar loves and was appalled at how careless the man with the scar had been. Anyone could have seen him, gotten the license plate number on his truck.
Over the next two months, Kyle watched the man with the scar. The guy hardly left his house, always ordering groceries and packages via delivery. And he almost never answered the door. During the two months, the man had abducted two more women, both in manners that were not too savvy. Kyle knew it was only a matter of time before the man with the scar was apprehended.
To prove Kyle was serious and liked to do similar things to people, he abducted a woman, and then drove out to the man with the scar’s house and knocked on the door.
“Hello there,” Kyle said after the man with the scar opened the door. “I know you don’t know me, but I have something to show you.”
The man with the scar was clearly confused. Kyle had parked the car so the trunk faced the house. He opened the trunk and lifted the bound woman from it.
The man with the scar didn’t react.
Kyle stood her up. Her face was wet from crying. Shaking, she looked around. She screamed through her duct-taped mouth for help when she saw the man with the scar. Kyle grabbed her by the hair, pulled a knife from a sheath on his belt and cut off her ear. Blood gushed as the girl struggled and wailed, her blonde hair turning crimson. Kyle smashed her on the back of her skull with the butt of the weapon, knocking her out. He held up the ear. “Proof I mean business, my friend.”
The man with the scar still hadn’t moved.
“Look. I’ve been watching you. And if I found you, then the cops will too. You’re like me, you like to play. Like to take and keep souvenirs? But—and don’t take this the wrong way—you’re sloppy as hell. If you keep going the way you’re going, you’ll be caught in no time. I can tell you don’t like hunting. Am I right? You just want the girls. No fuss. Well, that’s where I think we can help each other. I like to hunt. Like to play and act and pretend. I’ve been taking people for a long time and have never been caught. I can help you.”
“Why?” the man with the scar asked.
“Because, we’re kindred spirits. I like to take, you like to…hurt.”
“Pain is good. I’m an artist in pain.”
“I see. Look, I know this is all sudden and kind of crazy, so I’m going to leave my number here. If you’re interested in working together, call me by tomorrow this time. The phone’s a burner and I’ll be tossing it away.”
Kyle turned and headed to his car, then stopped. “The girl’s a gift, do with her as you will.” He tossed the ear over his shoulder, then got into his car and drove off. The next morning, the man with the scar called him and from there, the relationship flourished.
The man with the scar reflected on his friend. Kyle had been such a talent. A master actor and manipulator. Now, he would have to do the hunting again. The kids weren’t trained well enough yet, but he felt the girl would make a good chameleon, like Kyle had been. She was a great actress and could read people from across a room just by watching them. Kyle was able to become anyone he needed to be. Kyle was educated, smart and able to play different roles and bring home victims without a fuss.
He missed Lilly too. The girl had spunk and had clearly been taking after him—an artist in the making. The pain of losing people he loved was worse than any he could inflict on others, but he was sure going to try and match it.
Since the destruction of the house, the man with the scar had gone into hiding with Jack and Tabitha, remaining in the underground bunker he and Kyle had constructed—a place to go if things went sour. There was plenty of food and water, enough to sustain him, Tabitha and Jack while he procured them all a new home.
Now, standing behind a thick maple tree in the woods across the street from the Duprees’ house, he waited for Aaron to head to work, leaving Kelly home alone.
Since returning from his hunt for a new house, he’d spent the last two weeks watching the Dupree house, seeing the comings and goings of Aaron and his mom. He knew their schedules, when they showered, ate, took out the garbage, went to work and did chores around the property. He could’ve snatched either one on numerous occasions already, but knew he had to wait.
Patience was the key to abducting people and not getting caught. He often found himself with a headache or bleeding from somewhere along his flesh from having scratched, bit or cut himself with his Buck knife, not aware he had been doing it until the task was over and the pain finally settled in.
The pain was grounding.
The watching, spying and studying were all things Kyle used to do. Kyle had enjoyed the games, the playtime and the fucking with people. The man with the scar was no game player. He liked to hurt and kill people. These things weren’t games. They were what he did and why he existed. He’d grown accustomed to having his victims brought to him. It had made him lazy in that regard and now that he was the hunter, he would have to be extra careful, which meant he’d have to be more patient.
Ten minutes after Aaron drove off, the man with the scar walked up to the front door and knocked. He knew the woman would open it a crack. She had used one of those door chains when opening the door for Tabitha, when he’d sent her in for a test run a few days ago.
When the door opened, he saw half of Kelly’s face. Her revealed eye widened to incredible proportions upon seeing him. He enjoyed her recognition of him, and before she had a chance to slam the door closed, he kicked it open, the chain snapping as if it were made of plastic.
And then he was inside.
Chapter Twenty-Three
&
nbsp; Aaron arrived home from work a little after eight p.m. He’d left the restaurant shortly after six o’clock and went to the car wash before heading to the grocery store to pick up a few items. He was surprised his mom wasn’t home. She had returned to her job two weeks ago, and unless she had to work a double shift—always calling him to let him know—she came directly home after work. She needed to hear from him every few hours, letting her know he was all right. Going back to work had been a huge stride for her, but her constant worrying about his well-being was becoming a bit much for Aaron.
A few days ago, he had laid into her about her insecurities. He’d been having sex with Hanna when his mom had been trying to reach him. Panicked, she hurried home, and went off on him in front of Hanna. Aaron let her have it.
“You need to move on, Mom,” he said. “What you went through, what we went through, was beyond horrible. But Kyle is dead and the man with the scar is long gone. He isn’t returning. You can’t allow those evil bastards to haunt and ruin the rest of your life. It’s like you’re locked up in a mental cell or something. I want my mother back…” Ready to cry, he quickly bolted from the house, Hanna in tow.
Aaron returned to the house later that night. He and his mom talked and Aaron apologized for his outburst.
“No, you’re right, sweetie,” she said. “It’s just so hard to move on, knowing that man, that evil monster, is still out there.”
“I know,” Aaron said, holding her hand as they sat on her bed. “The cops have his picture. It’s too hot around here for him. He’s long gone. It’s been months.” He paused, knowing he needed to give a little. “Look, we can still call each other during the day and check in, but you can’t go nuts and run out of work to check on me. We don’t deserve to live like that.”
She agreed and shed a few tears, and they hugged.
Since that night, he and his mom had only spoken on the phone two times a day. She was working hard on not worrying, and with the help of her therapist and new medication, she felt more confident and secure.