by Sean Platt
Paul laughed.
Then he remembered something about the house, an even better room to do what he planned to do.
* * * *
CHAPTER 59 - MALLORY BLACK
Mal woke up in Ashley’s bed with a pounding headache, wondering how she’d gotten from the bunker to here. The room was dark, except for the dim blue light bleeding from Ashley’s constellation lamp shade on the nightstand.
She started to sit up but then realized that her hands were still bound behind her, legs tied to the wooden footboard.
She squirmed, trying to break free.
“Don’t make a sound,” said a girl’s voice from the floor.
Mal looked down. The girl sat up and came over to her.
Her heart froze as the girl’s face came into focus.
No.
It can’t be.
“Ashley?”
The girl reached out and touched Mal’s face, putting her fingers to her lips. “Shh, he’ll hear you.”
“Who will hear me?”
The girl’s face changed.
“Jessi?”
The door burst open, and the ceiling fan lights clicked on, blasting the room in sudden brightness.
Paul stood there, smiling, holding a giant blade.
“I’m so glad you’ve decided to join us. You’re just in time.”
* * * *
CHAPTER 60 - JASPER PARISH
Jasper parked three houses down from Mallory’s, in front of a wooded lot.
He normally wouldn’t park so close to a kill scene, but time was of the essence, and he was already late.
Jordyn got out of the car with him, pulling on her ski mask, slipping the hoodie up to conceal the mask from anyone who might happen to be awake at 2:15 AM and looking out their window or walking their dog.
He started to order Jordyn back, tell her not to come, but she ran out in front of him, out of reach for Jasper to call out to without raising his voice.
They reached the front door.
Jordyn touched it with a gloved hand. “They’re in there. Upstairs.”
“You should stay down here,” he said, already picking the lock and hoping that Paul hadn’t armed it.
“I’m not afraid of him. I already saw what happened. You’re going to take him out.”
“Yeah, but in your vision, we were too late to save Mal. What if you staying down here changes things enough so that she’s still alive?”
Jordyn stared at Jasper, considering what he said. “Okay. I’ll stay in the living room.”
He opened the door, bracing for an ear-piercing siren.
Silence.
Thank you.
Together they crept inside.
* * * *
CHAPTER 61 - MALLORY BLACK
Mal screamed and squirmed, kicking and thrashing at the footboard as Dodd closed then locked the bedroom door.
“Jessi and I are gonna put on a little show for your viewing pleasure, so I advise you to shut up and stop thrashing.”
Mal ignored him, screaming, “Help! Help!”
Paul yanked open Ashley’s dresser and found a shirt. One of her favorites. Purple, with a unicorn barfing a rainbow. He ripped it along the bottom, wadded up the torn piece, and crammed it into Mal’s mouth.
“I said shut up!” Jasper grabbed her jaw and squeezed it tight. His wild eyes, dark despite their placid blue, bored straight into hers.
His nose was broken, dark, blood crusted beneath it.
She kept thrashing, refusing to stop until she managed to break her legs free. There was no way this would end well if she couldn’t. She had to keep at it.
“Stop moving!” Paul smacked her hard across the face.
She spit the gag out, then spit at him.
Paul wiped the spit from his face, then turned, looked at Jessi, and smacked her so hard that she slumped to the ground.
Mal finally stopped thrashing.
Paul smiled. “Good. I see you get it.”
He stuffed the shirt back into her mouth then grabbed a roll of duct tape from his bag on the floor and taped her mouth shut.
Mal resisted, but couldn’t stop him.
Paul knelt next to Jessi, rubbed his hand over her back, and in a sickly gentle voice said, “I’m sorry, sweetie. But Miss Mallory made me do it. If she behaves herself, I won’t have to do it again.”
Mal glared at him.
Her voice garbled by the gag, she said, “I’m going to kill you!”
She wasn’t sure if Paul understood, but he smiled just the same.
“Stand up, sweetie.”
Jessi stood, crying, unable to look at him.
He walked over to Ashley’s closet, opened it, revealing all of her clothes, just as she’d left them on her last day.
“Wow, this is really sad. You’ve kept everything exactly like it is, haven’t you? Like a little museum to your dead daughter. You do realize she’s never coming back, right?”
Mal glared, screaming, Fuck you in her mind.
“I had an idea downstairs. An idea that might bring this whole thing full circle for you, for me, even for little Jessi here. I think you’re gonna love it.”
He turned to Jessi, “Jessi, I want you to pick out a dress from the closet.”
She looked confused.
He grew impatient. “I want you to pick out a dress and put it on.”
“Why?”
“Don’t ask me why; just fucking do it!”
Jessi swallowed back tears and did as instructed.
She walked to the closet, pulled out a blue dress, one Ashley wore to church on the rare occasions they’d gone. She looked back at Mal as if begging permission.
Paul said, “You like that one? Go ahead, put it on. Mal won’t mind. Ashley certainly won’t.”
He laughed.
Mal mumbled through the gag, “What the hell is wrong with you?”
He ignored the question, looking at Jessi. “Go ahead. Put it on.”
She reluctantly stripped out of her pink pajamas, then slipped into the dress.
“Oh, so beautiful. Don’t you think, Mallory?”
Mal could only stare through tears, swallowing her building rage, trying to control her breath, trying not to lose her mind.
Paul ran his fingers through Jessi’s hair. “Now for this next part, I’m going to call you Ashley. Okay, Ashley?”
Jessi looked at Mal.
Mal’s face felt like it was going to crack.
Jessi nodded.
Paul said, “Tell me your name.”
Jessi’s voice, quiet and raspy: “Ashley.”
“Okay, now Ashley. I wanna show your Mommy here what I did to you for your birthday. Will you help me show her?”
Jessi’s entire body was shaking, tears streaming down her cheeks.
She nodded.
“Good,” Paul said, his voice losing octaves. “Now I’d like you to lay on the floor.”
He came over to Mal, winking as he reached over her to grab one of Ashley’s pillows, then threw it to the ground for Jessi to place under her head.
Mal screamed through the gag, trying to tell Paul that he could take her instead. To please, just let the poor girl go.
Paul unbuttoned his pants and let them drop to the ground.
He took off his shirt.
As he threw it on the chair, Mal noticed that his entire back was covered in scars, like cigarette burns. Why hadn’t his ex-wife said anything about them? Who did that? Was it Wes? Some other predator?
Or was it his mother?
She tried to scream out and get his attention, make him stop long enough to pull out the gag, so she could ask Paul who had done that to him. Maybe she could open a dialogue and convince him not to hurt Jessi further.
But right now, Dodd was a maniac who couldn’t hear reason.
All traces of the pensive man in the bunker who had paused to consider his actions had been replaced by a lunatic looking to hurt the world.
Or at least th
e people in this room.
He dropped his underwear and turned to Mal, smiling as he stroked himself.
“Pay attention, Mallory. I want you to see exactly how Ashley’s last moments felt.”
He got on his knees in front of Jessi and reached out to lift her dress.
Mal screamed, thrashing and kicking at the footboard.
* * * *
CHAPTER 62 - JASPER PARISH
Jasper heard muffled screams and the sound of banging upstairs.
Whatever Jordyn had seen Paul do in her vision, the man was doing it now. The time for sneaking quietly through the house was over.
He raced upstairs, gun in hand, following sounds to a bedroom door with vinyl letters that read Ashley.
He tried the knob. Locked.
He didn’t bother calling out.
He backed up, then threw all of his weight at the door.
It exploded open.
Jasper saw Mallory Black tied to her daughter’s bed, still alive.
And Paul Dodd, naked, kneeling in front of Jessi Price, about to rape her.
Jordyn hadn’t mentioned seeing Jessi in her vision. Did that mean that things had already changed? That Jasper wasn’t too late?
Paul turned around, his eyes wide in shock.
He turned to intercept Jasper, too late.
Jasper cocked him upside the head with his gun and sent him sprawling backward.
Jasper looked at Jessi, also wide-eyed, staring up in shock, frozen.
“Run downstairs. Now!”
She scrambled to her feet, then ran.
Paul looked up at Jasper, fists clenched at his side as he got into a squatting position, ready to charge. “Who the fuck are you?”
Jasper raised his gun and took aim. “On your stomach. Now!”
Paul ignored him, leaping toward Jasper.
The gun exploded with an ear-piercing boom, but it missed its mark as Paul knocked the weapon from Jasper’s hands.
Jasper stumbled back.
Paul dived for the gun.
No, no, no!
He couldn’t let Paul get the pistol. Mal was still alive. He could save her, change Jordyn’s vision.
Jasper wondered if he’d somehow caused Mal’s death. Had Jordyn left that part out when reporting what she saw?
Jasper found his footing.
Paul’s fingers closed around the gun.
Jasper stomped his boot hard on Paul’s fingers.
He screamed.
Jasper dug his heel in, hard, until Paul let go of the gun.
Jasper punched his already broken nose.
Paul screamed again.
Jasper stared down at the man who had inflicted so much pain on so many. The man who had violated who-knew-how-many young children, and then killed them. A man about to rape and likely murder Jessi Price in front of the restrained mother of one of his other victims, and make her watch the whole thing.
Jasper felt an odd sense of déjà vu, having suffered exactly this rage at least once before, but hell if he could remember it now.
“You sick fuck!” Jasper punched him in the face again.
Then again, and again, and again, until Paul was sprawled on the floor in a bloody mess with Jasper straddling his body.
A scream stopped him.
“Stop, Daddy!”
Jasper turned around to see Jordyn in the doorway.
“What are you doing?”
“Let her finish him.” She pointed at Mallory.
Jasper looked at Mal, staring at him, her eyes wide and confused.
He looked down at Paul, unconscious but not dead. Certainly not getting up anytime soon.
Jasper grabbed the gun, put it in his waistband, and stood.
Mallory’s eyes were dilated in fear as he approached her. Jasper pulled the tape from her mouth, then extracted the gag.
The moment it was out of her mouth, she said, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Mallory stared at him, likely trying to figure out who might be under the mask. “You’re him, aren’t you? My mystery caller.”
“Yes.”
“Can you get these cuffs off? I think the keys are in his pocket.”
He grabbed Paul’s pants, reached inside, and searched for the key. “Can you roll over?” Jasper asked after he found it.
She did, and he unlocked her cuffs.
Then he reached for his belt, got his knife, and sawed at the ropes binding her feet.
Once they were cut, he replaced his blade and backed away from the bed before Mallory could reach him. He kept his gun in hand, ready, though not aimed at her.
There was a look in her eyes, a cop in observation, assessing a threat, and the best way to disarm it.
She didn’t know that he was a good guy. Hell, she probably wondered how he knew about her daughter, or where to find her. Maybe she even assumed that he was working with Paul. It made sense. Usually in police work, the most obvious answer, the most direct connection between two unknowns, was the right one.
But this time it wasn’t.
And Jasper needed her to know that.
Mallory sat up and massaged her wrists, ringed in bruises from her struggle. “Who are you?”
“Just someone sick of seeing monsters like this hurting innocent people.”
“When you called me two years ago, how did you know that Ashley was in danger?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
Jordyn said, “Don’t tell her dad.”
“Sorry, I’d love to tell you, but if I do, then I’ll only end up hurting someone else. Somebody who’s seen enough pain already.”
Paul moaned behind them.
Jasper turned around and aimed at his head.
* * * *
CHAPTER 63 - MALLORY BLACK
The Mystery Man looked at Mal. “So, would you like the honors?”
“Honors to do what?”
“To kill him. To stop him from ever hurting another child ever again.”
Mystery Man grabbed the knife from his belt and handed it to Mal. A pocket knife with a three-inch blade, legal to carry, but would do the job in killing a man.
She held it tightly in her hand, uncertain who she would need to use it on.
Mal stared at Paul, his face broken and bloodied. He no longer looked like the menacing man who only moments ago was planning to rape and kill a child in front of her. Now he looked like a sad, broken animal. Helpless.
She did not pity him, and a part of her did want him dead. A big part of her. She had practiced regularly at the gun range for just this moment, him breaking into her house, and her justifiably shooting him.
But the Mystery Man had changed all of that by breaking in and beating Paul to a pulp. Shooting him was no longer about her defending herself. Killing Dodd now would be murder.
She might have been a lot of bad things, but she wasn’t a murderer.
“I’m not going to kill him. Let me call the sheriff’s department. They’ll do it right.”
Mystery Man laughed. “Yeah, right.”
“What?”
“They’re gonna have a lengthy trial that’ll cost the taxpayers millions, and it’ll drag out for years. And then, if he’s not found insane, and let’s face it, he’s pretty insane, he’ll get the death penalty. But even that won’t happen for another few years, and only after more money is wasted on appeals. And then the media will be hounding the families of his victims; they’ll be hounding you, they’ll be hounding Jessi Price and her family. It’s a big fucking circus, Mallory. I don’t like circuses.”
Mystery Man aimed the gun at Paul and looked down at him.
Paul looked up groggy, moaning something that Mal couldn’t make out.
Mallory said, “Why let him off easy? You kill him, and he never has a chance to sit in jail and pay for what he did. You said yourself that the process would take years, right? So let him sit in prison for years until he’s exe
cuted.”
Mystery Man looked at Mallory. “He hurt you. He raped and killed your daughter. He was about to do it again, right in front of you. Don’t you want him to pay? Don’t you want vengeance? I asked you before if you could go back in time and kill him to prevent him from hurting Ashley, would you? And what did you say?”
“Yes.”
“And while you can’t go back in time, you can prevent him from ever hurting another child. From killing the next Ashley. Don’t you want that?”
“It’s not about what I want. I’m not above the law, and neither are you. The sheriff’s office will arrest Dodd and put him away. Believe me; he won’t ever hurt anyone ever again.”
Mal had a new theory on who this man was. He wasn’t a lawyer. He wasn’t someone in Paul or Wes’s inner circle who stumbled on their crimes.
For him this was personal.
Had Paul killed his child or someone close to him?
She wanted to ask, but at the same time, he held the gun and all the power. She didn’t want to piss him off and have him shoot her just to safeguard his identity.
She had to play this cool if she wanted to get out of it alive.
She thought of Jessi Price downstairs, alone. Had she run out of the house? Was she banging on a neighbor’s door begging them to call 9-1-1?
Or was she waiting to see who came downstairs?
Mystery Man grabbed Paul by the back of the head and sat him up against Ashley’s dresser. “Tell her what you did to her daughter, Odd Dodd.”
Paul’s eyes widened in response to that name, as much as they could in their swollen condition. “Fuck you,” he said through gritted teeth.
Mystery Man knelt down, reached under Paul’s neck, and squeezed. “Tell her or I choke you to death right here.”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Mal said, standing, but not approaching.
Mystery Man looked up at her, his dark eyes wet as if he was on the verge of tears. “You need to hear.”
