Good Little Girls (The Keepers Book 2)

by Rita Herron

  Summoning her courage again, she clung to the wall until she made it to her car. She threw the door open, praying the SUV would start. Her hand was shaking so hard that she dropped the keys and had to dig around on the floor to retrieve them.

  Finally, she snagged them, then jammed the keys in the ignition. The engine chugged and sputtered, then died.

  Tears of frustration filled her. She slammed the steering wheel with her fist. “Dammit, come on. I have to save Carrie Ann.”

  She twisted the key again, holding her breath as the engine struggled to come to life. She had to try three more times, but finally it started.

  The message from Wyatt taunted her. She didn’t have time to call but forwarded him the texts from the Skull. Maybe he could trace them, and he’d find the bastard. Or Carrie Ann.

  She hadn’t driven in months and had to remind herself what to do next. She wiped perspiration from her forehead and checked the rearview mirror, then eased the SUV into reverse and backed from the garage.

  Her heart pounded as she swung the SUV around and onto the street. She checked for traffic, the last slivers of sunlight dipping below the horizon.

  For a second, the world blurred again, and sweat drenched her neck. Carrie Ann’s face materialized again. Then the sound of her crying when she was a little girl.

  She saw the two of them petting Gingersnap, chasing her in the yard, tying a red, white, and blue bandana around her neck for the Fourth of July. Dressing her in a police dog costume at Halloween. Then a Santa hat at Christmas.

  She wanted a dog again. Wanted her life back. But most of all she wanted her sister safe and back home. She couldn’t let her die.

  The vet clinic . . . she remembered exactly where it was. She’d volunteered there as a teenager. Had dreamed about becoming a vet and joining the doctor in her practice.

  She blinked to focus, pressed the accelerator, and eased down the street.

  She had seen a notice about Dr. Hinke’s death two years ago. The clinic had closed.

  Two years . . . Had his mother’s death triggered Hinke to kidnap his first victim?

  A rat skittered across the floor of the outbuilding, and Wyatt jumped back. Another one squeaked from the corner, and two more raced along the edge of the wall, scurrying into a hole that led outside.

  They were the source of the noise.

  He shined his flashlight along the wall. An old refrigerator sat on the far side.

  A padlock held the door closed, so he searched the storage closet and found bolt cutters. He pulled on gloves, cut the lock, opened the door, and shined his flashlight inside.

  The sight of the decaying body sent nausea to his throat. He coughed and stepped back for a second, then forced himself to take a closer look.

  The cooler temperature inside the refrigerator would have slowed down decomp, but the body had still decayed considerably.

  Who was it?

  He didn’t know enough about forensics to be able to tell much, but a gold wedding band lay on the floor of the refrigerator. A man’s ring.

  He snapped pictures of the interior, then closed the door and stepped outside to call the ERT and medical examiner. Before he hung up with them, his phone was beeping with another call.

  Bernie.

  He quickly connected and relayed what he’d found. “If it’s a male, it could be his father,” Bernie said. “He disappeared about a month before the wife died. Apparently the wife reported him missing. When the police questioned her, she mentioned that they’d turned their son over to the state because he displayed signs of aggression and psychosis. Police questioned Hinke about his father’s disappearance but didn’t find anything to charge him with or hold him on. When no body surfaced, the case went cold.”

  So Hinke killed the father, and then the mother’s death was his trigger. He kidnapped his first victim to replace her. When she didn’t measure up, he killed her and took another.

  A text made him hesitate.

  Fuck. The Skull had texted Tinsley . . .

  “Hatcher is going to the TV station to look at surveillance cameras,” Bernie said.

  That might give them a break. “Pull any recent pictures you can find of Hinke and the kind of car he drives and get them to every law enforcement agency in the state. We need everyone looking for him.” He took a breath, fighting pure panic. “I’m forwarding you texts Tinsley just sent. Apparently the Skull contacted her. Get on these right away.”

  “Copy that.”

  His phone rang as soon as he hung up. The officer at Tinsley’s.

  “Agent Camden?”

  Fear seized him at the sound of the man’s choppy breathing. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Ms. Jensen. She’s gone.”

  Wyatt went still. “What do you mean gone?”

  “I mean she left. She sent me to the beach, but the guy down there was just a local walking his dog.”

  “You mean he took her?”

  A tense second passed. “I don’t think so. Odd thing is that I heard an engine start and ran to see who it was. She was behind the steering wheel.”

  Shock immobilized Wyatt. “She was driving? How can that be? She’s terrified to leave the house.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  Wyatt tried to process what the officer had said. Tinsley had been terrified to leave the cottage. She hadn’t left it in months.

  She wasn’t faking the agoraphobia. He’d seen her terror when she’d tried to leave it the night she’d been drugged.

  She might not leave the house for herself, but it was possible she had to save Carrie Ann.

  “Let me get a BOLO on her car and a trace on her phone. The Skull has her sister.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  Tinsley gripped her phone, terrified and desperate as she parked at the clinic. How could she face the Skull alone?

  What if he’d already hurt—or worse, killed—her sister? Would she be able to fight him?

  Gravel crunched outside the car. A noise . . . someone was out there.

  She felt for the knife inside her pocket and closed her fingers around the handle.

  Suddenly the door jerked open. She clutched the knife and swung around, determined to fight him and win.

  She made it halfway to his chest with the knife before he slammed his hand down and knocked her wrist. Pain ricocheted through her arm, and she lost her grip on the knife. It fell to the floorboard.

  She clawed for her keys to jab his eyes. But he was fast and wrenched her hand backward. Then he snatched the keys and threw them to the ground.

  She pummeled her fists into him. “Let my sister go, and I’ll stay with you, you bastard!”

  A dark chuckle rumbled from him, and he jabbed a needle in her neck. She swayed. His body blurred into a fog, and her legs gave way.

  A voice inside her head screamed for her to fight, but her limbs were so heavy she couldn’t move.

  She hung like a rag doll as he carried her inside the clinic.

  “So far, nothing on Tinsley’s car,” Bernie told Wyatt. “I’m working on tracing her phone.”

  Wyatt paced back and forth outside his vehicle, terrified that the Skull had Tinsley.

  He blotted out the images of those pictures the bastard had kept of his sick, depraved acts.

  “Tell me everything you found on him.”

  “He was a single child born to Janine Hinke and Clyde Dorchester. I dug all the way back to his childhood and managed to talk to a lady who worked with his mother at her vet clinic. She said the kid was withdrawn, quiet, and in her words—peculiar. Apparently he had a mean streak. The mother thought helping at the clinic with the animals would be good for him.”

  “Pet therapy,” Wyatt mumbled.

  “Something like that. Only it backfired. He was jealous of the time his mother spent with the animals. There were at least two instances where she suspected that he’d killed animals at the clinic. The parents put him in private therapy then. By middle school, he’d es
calated. He set fire to part of the clinic. More animals were found dead, this time sadistically tortured. Something happened at home, too, although the parents wouldn’t talk about it. But they sent him to an inpatient treatment facility.”

  “That’s where he met Norton?” Wyatt asked.

  “No. They met at the clinic. Norton’s therapist arranged for him to work cleaning cages.”

  “And the boys’ friendship was born.” Wyatt scrubbed his hand over his face.

  Bernie heaved a sigh. “Wait. I have a trace on Tinsley’s phone.”

  “Where is it coming from?”

  “The mother’s vet clinic.”

  Dammit. He should have guessed that.

  “I’m sending you the address.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  The pungent aroma of flowers and scented candles swirled around Tinsley as she stirred from unconsciousness. She blinked, but everything was a blur.

  “Tinsley . . .”

  A whispered voice. Carrie Ann.

  Reality returned in a terrifying rush.

  She blinked again, struggling to sit up. A hand brushed her cheek. Not Wyatt’s. Not Carrie Ann’s.

  It was the rough hand of the Skull through the bars of the cage.

  Panic stole her breath and she cringed, shrinking away from him.

  “We’re finally together again.” The sound of the Skull’s voice made nausea rise to her throat.

  She looked across the room. Three skulls dangled from the ceiling just like before. The flowers, the candles . . . he was preparing for the Day of the Dead celebration.

  Now she understood what it was about.

  His mother.

  “I’m here,” Carrie Ann said in a muffled whisper.

  Tinsley turned her head toward the sound. Through a hazy fog, she saw her younger sister crawling toward her. They were locked together in one of his damn cages.

  Carrie Ann’s hands were tied, but she lifted them and raked Tinsley’s hair from her face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I thought I could kill him and you’d be free.”

  The man’s deep chant echoed through the room as he began the rituals again. He was lost in his own demented world.

  Tears blurred Tinsley’s vision as her sister stroked her cheek. She sucked in a breath to clear her throat. “Did he hurt you?”

  Carrie Ann shook her head, but her face looked puffy from crying, and dark circles rimmed her eyes. “I’m okay.”

  “You shouldn’t have gone on camera,” Tinsley said, her voice breaking.

  “I had to do something to save you,” Carrie Ann said. “We both knew he was coming back for you. I wanted him to come after me instead so I could get rid of him.”

  “You’re my baby sister,” Tinsley said. “I’m supposed to protect you. That’s why I pushed you away.”

  Confusion streaked Carrie’s Ann’s face, then understanding. “Oh God, Tins, I thought you hated me. You gave up so much for me and—”

  “I loved you,” Tinsley said. “I still do, more than anything in the world.”

  Carrie Ann leaned her head against Tinsley’s, and for a moment they were lost in their tears and pain. They’d bonded as children. When their parents had died, they’d become even closer. They would get through this together.

  Determination reared its way through the fear gnawing at Tinsley. “We’re going to get out of here,” Tinsley whispered.

  “How?” Carrie Ann gulped. “He took my knife and the gun. Your gun.”

  “It’s okay; we’ll find a way.” Tinsley curled her little finger and gestured for her sister to do the same. “Pinkie-swear. We’re going to beat this son of a bitch.”

  Carrie Ann hesitated slightly, then hooked her finger with Tinsley’s.

  The Skull’s chanting grew louder as he lit candles and lined sugar skulls around the altar. “Help me sit up,” Tinsley whispered.

  Carrie Ann used her hands to pull Tinsley to a sitting position. Tinsley motioned for her sister to turn around. Carrie Ann did, and Tinsley began to work at the ropes.

  The knots were tight, but she and her sister had practiced knot-tying so much as kids that she could almost do it in her sleep. It took some time, but she wiggled and pulled the strands until she managed to unravel the rope and free her sister. Then Carrie Ann returned the favor.

  They kept their heads bowed together to hide what they were doing. Candlelight flickered from the corner, illuminating the altar and flickering off the Skull’s face. He looked like some kind of demon circling the fires of hell as he chanted and sang to the sugar skulls.

  Tinsley inched to the cage door and tried the latch, but the padlock needed a key. She visually searched the room. The key hung on a chain around his neck.

  Frustration made her want to scream, but she had to think, not panic.

  She’d get Carrie Ann out or die trying.

  Footsteps brought her gaze to the Skull. Carrie Ann gripped her arm.

  “Nice to see you awake now, Tinsley.”

  She swallowed revulsion, forcing her mind not to relive the past. This time, things were going to be different. They had to be.

  “I know who you are, Wade,” she said. “So why don’t you stop hiding behind that mask and show your face?”

  “I’m not hiding. I wear it in honor of the celebration.”

  “You wear it because you’re a coward,” Tinsley said, baiting him. “You’re nothing but a big bully. You were as a kid. And now you have to intimidate women to get what you want from them because no woman would want you for who you are.”

  Anger radiated from him as he glared at her. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I help people. I take away their pain.”

  “You’re delusional,” Tinsley said.

  He jammed the key in the lock and turned it. Tinsley braced herself for his attack. Carrie Ann’s nails dug into her arm as they waited.

  The door jerked open, and he yanked her arm. With her hand free, she punched him in the face with her fist. He bellowed and dragged her from the cage, but Carrie Ann dove out and hit him in the knees.

  He sank to the floor with a shocked yelp.

  Tinsley took advantage and ran for the knife he’d taken from her.

  But he snatched her leg before she could reach it and dragged her toward him. “You’re mine, Tinsley. If you fight me, I’ll make it even more painful for your little sister.”

  Tinsley kicked back, slamming her foot into his face. Blood spurted from his nose through the holes in the mask, and he bellowed in rage but didn’t release her.

  Carrie ran toward the altar. He was pulling Tinsley beneath him, straddling her, his hands groping her. She kicked and bucked to shove him off her. He punched her in the face, sending pain through her jaw.

  Stars swam in front of her eyes, but she refused to give up. She grabbed his balls and twisted them. He shouted an obscenity, then bent her wrist until she released him.

  Carrie Ann dove onto his back and slipped a knife to his throat. “Let her go or you’re dead.”

  He froze, still straddling Tinsley. She shoved off his mask. Without that cover, he didn’t look as terrifying. In fact, he looked weak and pathetic. “You bastard. You’re going to pay for what you’ve done.”

  He roared, then swung back and knocked Carrie Ann off him. The two of them wrestled for the knife, and it skittered across the floor. Carrie Ann tried to reach it, but he stomped on her arm, and she screamed in pain. Then he slammed his fist against the side of her head, and she passed out.

  Tinsley wanted to get the knife, but the candles were closer, so she stood up, grabbed a burning candle, and threw it on him.

  The flame caught his flannel shirt, and he yelled and beat at it, then growled and lurched toward her.

  She lifted her leg to kick him, but he knocked her back into the table. The table collapsed. Candles slid off, quickly catching the rotting wood floor ablaze. He rolled them away from the flames and tried to drag her to the corner, but she fought and kicke
d with every ounce of strength she possessed.

  He was stronger, though, and punched her in the jaw, then covered her body with his again. His weight on her triggered the memory of his brutal attacks the year before, and she pummeled him with her fists.

  “Run!” Tinsley screamed. “Run!”

  But Carrie Ann didn’t listen. Instead, she snagged the knife and jumped Hinke from behind. This time she didn’t threaten him.

  Carrie Ann stabbed the knife into his back with all her force. Blood spurted as he grunted in shock and collapsed.

  Tinsley tried to push him off her, but he grabbed her and rolled her to the side. Before she could escape, he snatched a burning candle from the floor and held it in front of her. Evil flared in his eyes.

  Then hot wax dripped onto her skin as he waved the flame across her cheek.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  Wyatt threw his SUV into park, shoved his car door open, and jumped out, gun at the ready. Tinsley’s vehicle was parked in the drive, the door ajar.

  Her phone was on the ground.

  Smoke curled around the edge of the clinic doorway.

  He ran for the building and checked the front door. Locked.

  Knowing the Skull might be waiting to ambush him, he carefully scanned the property and periphery of the building as he circled around to the back entrance. Dog runs and an outdoor play yard for pets occupied the far-left corner. All empty.

  He eased up to the back door, then paused to listen.

  A scream sounded inside. Then a man’s shout.

  He kicked open the door and raced inside. Cages lined the back room. He made his way through the hall. Exam rooms along the right. Then a surgical room and lab.

  Smoke was coming from another room.

  He eased toward it, then peeked through the edge of the cracked doorway. Flames licked the floor and wall. Noises came from the midst of the smoke.

  He ducked inside, searching for Tinsley and her sister. A cry from the corner made him jerk his head toward the sound. Tinsley. Carrie Ann.

  A man hovered over Tinsley, a burning candle in his hand. Hinke.

  “Stop!” Wyatt aimed his weapon at the bastard.