by Sean Platt
He choked Paul harder. “Tell her.”
Then Paul told her everything.
Her rage returned as the coward confessed his sins.
His swagger as he recounted what he’d done was replaced by something worse — detachment, as if someone else had done these terrible things. As if he wasn’t responsible.
Mal was in tears when he finished.
Mystery Man stood there, masked face turned downward, gun aimed at the back of his skull.
“Why?” Mal asked. “Why did you do it? And not that bullshit answer from the bunker about saving kids from their horrible mothers. Why did you do it?”
Paul looked up at her with his lifeless eyes. “Because I loved them.”
“You did not love my daughter.” She took a step toward him.
Mystery Man held his distance, falling back toward the open door.
“Yes, I did love her,” Paul said, staring at Mal matter-of-factly. He wasn’t smiling or mocking her as he had before. Still, it only made her angrier. “And she learned to love me.”
Without a thought, Mal ran to Paul, dropped down, and put the blade to his throat. She leaned in close, her nose just inches from his own broken and bloody one, her eyes boring right into his.
“She did not love you.”
“Yes,” he said, the slightest hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, “she did. And do you want to know what she said to me right before she died?”
Mal swallowed, tears burning her cheeks.
“What?”
He reached up, putting his hand on her hand with the blade.
He didn’t have enough strength to get the knife from Mal. Even if he was faking weakness, there was no way she’d let it go.
But he wasn’t trying to get it. He was trying to pull the blade down, toward his stomach.
She let him.
“Stick the knife in, and I’ll tell you what she said.”
“Do it,” Mystery Man urged behind her.
Mal stared into the monster’s eyes.
“Just tell me,” she said, pain choking her words.
“Do it, and I’ll tell you what Ashley wanted you to know.”
She stood. She had to, or she would’ve obliged him right there.
“Do it,” Mystery Man said. “Don’t you want to know?”
“He’s lying. He wants me to kill him, so he won’t go to prison.”
“Who cares?”
“I’m not lying,” Paul said. “Ashley told me lots of things. She told me about how she used to have to stay after school when you were working, and how she had no friends, so she’d always read books from the library. She told me how when you quit your job you were home, but you weren’t really home. She was still reading books while you did … whatever it was you did when you were ignoring her. She told me about Pinky Bear.”
“Shut up!”
“Or what? You won’t kill me?” Paul laughed, then coughed blood.
Mystery Man looked at Mal. “If you don’t kill him, I will. There’s no way I’m letting him walk out of here.”
* * * *
CHAPTER 64 - JASPER PARISH
Jasper stared at Mallory, awaiting her decision. She was still trying to balance being a cop versus being a mother and wanting to end the bastard who murdered her child.
Mallory raised the knife toward him. “I’m not letting you kill him.”
Jasper stared at her. “Are you serious? You’re going to threaten me to keep this piece of shit alive?”
“I’m saving you from yourself.”
“What?”
“I know you believe he deserves to die, but think about what that does to you, or to me. Killing a defenseless person. You can’t come back from that. Are you prepared to live with that the rest of your life?”
“Who says I haven’t already killed a defenseless person?”
Something flashed across her face. “Did you kill Wes?”
Jordyn stood beside Jasper, and whispered, “Don’t tell her. She’ll use it to come after us.”
He turned to his daughter. “Shh, I’ve got this.”
“Come on, let’s just go,” Jordyn pled. “Let her have him.”
“No, we’re not letting him leave here. He has to pay for what he did.”
“It’s not worth it, Dad.”
Jasper froze.
Shit. She called me Dad. That’s only going to help them figure out who we are.
He didn’t want to have to kill Paul and Mallory. But he would do anything, would kill anyone, to keep Jordyn out of jail.
He turned back to Mallory and Paul to see if they’d picked up on her slip. Mallory was looking oddly at Jasper, her brow furrowed.
So was Paul. “Who the hell are you talking to, man?”
“Who she is, who we are, is none of your business.”
“I’m not asking who she is. I’m asking who the fuck you’re talking to?”
Jasper looked at Mallory, still eyeing him with the oddest expression.
“What?”
Mallory asked, “Who are you talking to?”
“Come on, stop screwing around. Are you going to kill him, or am I?”
Mallory continued to stare, the way you stared at someone who was helpless but didn’t know it. Like you stared at an Alzheimer’s patient who wandered into another person’s home.
“Are you saying you don’t see her?” Jasper pointed to Jordyn.
Mallory shook her head.
Why were they acting like they couldn’t see her?
“Come on, Dad, they’re just messing with you. Let’s go.”
Jasper stared at Mallory. He couldn’t believe that she would be playing games like this. “You really don’t see anyone here?”
Again, she shook her head.
Paul laughed. “I think you might be even crazier than me!”
Jasper raised his weapon and shot Paul in the chest; then he turned the gun on Mallory. “Tell me the truth. Do you see anyone behind me?”
Mallory stared at him, her arms raised, pleading, “Please, don’t shoot.”
The gun shook in his hand. “Do you see anyone behind me?”
“Yes. Yes, I see a woman behind you.”
He sighed with relief, but couldn’t shake why both Paul and Mallory had lied. He could understand Paul messing with him, but not Mallory. Unless she was pretending not to see her, to prove that she hadn’t heard her slip up and call Jasper “Dad.” Maybe this was her way of squeaking out of this, knowing he might hurt her to keep Jordyn’s secret.
But something felt off.
And he had that same strange sense of déjà vu from before, when he’d been pounding Paul to dough.
He looked down at Dodd, blood pooling around him, eyes half-open.
“Come on,” Jordyn said. “Let’s go.”
* * * *
CHAPTER 65 - MALLORY BLACK
Mal stared at the Mystery Man, trying to think of a way to keep him there a little longer while Paul Dodd bled out beneath her. She didn’t dare try to save him, especially when Mystery Man seemed to want him dead even more than she had.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
Deputies were on the way, maybe even the FBI.
She wasn’t sure if someone had figured out where she was, or if Jessi had fled the house and begged someone to call the cops.
If Mystery Man noticed the sirens, he didn’t seem in a hurry to flee.
Maybe he didn’t realize that she was going to tell the deputies to arrest him, that he’d shot Paul and murdered Wes.
Yes, he’d saved her life, but there was something wrong with him. He’d butchered a man and shoved his genitals into his mouth. That kind of person shouldn’t be out on the streets. Plus, he was also seeing a person who wasn’t there.
Mal had agreed to seeing a woman, but only because she was afraid that he’d snap — or break further — if she denied what he so clearly believed.
“You did it,” she said. “You killed him. You’
ve had your revenge.”
He stared at her confused, then down at his gun.
Something was happening behind his eyes. Some realization that was confusing him.
He looked back at Mallory, then aimed the gun at her.
“Do you really see someone behind me?”
* * * *
CHAPTER 66 - JASPER PARISH
Mallory’s eyes were brimming with tears as she met his. “Who do you see?”
“My daughter.”
“What’s your daughter’s name?”
“Don’t tell her, Dad. She’s trying to trick you.”
“Her name is Jordyn.”
He continued staring down the barrel at Mallory. It shook in his hands.
“Dad,” Jordyn called out, grabbing his arm, “come on. We need to go!”
Jasper ignored her.
All he could do was stare into Mallory’s eyes. Again: “Do you see her?”
Mallory shook her head.
“Dad!” Jordyn shouted beside him. “Don’t listen to her. She’s trying to trick you.”
Jordyn grabbed him by the arm, tight.
How could an apparition do that?
It couldn’t.
Mallory had to be lying.
Then he realized the truth, as the approaching sirens cut through his mental cloud. “You’re just trying to trick me, to keep me here so they’ll arrest me.”
“I’m not trying to trick you. But yes, you should stay. I can get you help.”
“I don’t need your help.”
He started to back toward the doorway. “We’re going now. Please don’t make me regret saving you, saving Jessi.”
Mallory called out, “Please, don’t go.”
He backed out of the door, then turned, and headed down the stairs.
Jessi Price was gone.
The sirens were getting closer.
He ran out the back door, clambered over a fence, charged through the neighbor’s yard, and kept going, vaulting, racing as fast as he could with Jordyn by his side.
He found the car and hopped in.
Jordyn took shotgun.
He floored the gas and tore away, tires squealing.
* * * *
FRIDAY
OCT. 20
CHAPTER 67 - MALLORY BLACK
Mal sat at a long table in the Creek County Sheriff’s press room, with Gloria, Mike, SAIC McDaniels, Sheriff Johnson, and Public Information Officer Felicia Day as the press conference started. They’d all been up all night and were running on fumes, but they needed to let the public know that Jessi Price was safe and that Paul Dodd was in custody.
McDaniels led, thanking both sheriff’s departments, the men and women of the FBI, and everyone else who helped bring Jessi Price home to her mother early this morning. He also said Jessi’s father was believed to be dead, though they’d yet to find his body. He requested that the press respect the Price family as they try to heal.
He then updated the press on the broad strokes of what had happened, leaving out parts that the public didn’t need to know, like how Mallory forced her way into the bunker, bypassing the FBI’s crisis negotiator. He mentioned another person wanted in connection with the events, describing him as a black man in his mid to late thirties wearing a ski mask, as if that would help anyone identify him. Mike would probably circle back to Paul’s ex-wife soon, get her with a sketch artist to better describe the Mystery Man vigilante.
McDaniels updated the reporters on Paul Dodd — in critical but stable condition at Creek County Memorial. Assuming he made it through, Dodd would stand trial for his crimes, including the abduction, rape, and murder of Ashley Black two years ago.
McDaniels handed it over to Gloria, who also thanked everyone involved before turning to Mal. “I’d also like to thank former homicide detective Mallory Black for helping to bring Paul Dodd to justice. Her bravery and determination have gone a long way toward returning Jessi Price to her mother.”
Cameras clicked, and flashes went off as reporters snapped away.
After Gloria opened up for questions, several reporters shouted questions over each other. She pointed at one, “Alice.”
“Do we know yet if there were any other victims?” Asked a woman in the front row. “Do we know if he’d done anything to any of his students?”
“We can’t discuss that at the moment as this is an ongoing investigation. However, if anybody has any information about Paul Dodd, they can call our tip line.”
Another reporter shouted, “How did you escape?”
Mal answered, “It’s not something we can go into right now. I’m just glad to be alive, and that we could get Jessi back to her family.”
Another reporter: “How does it feel to put away the man who killed your daughter?”
“I’m just glad that he can’t hurt anyone else.”
Reporters kept shouting, all seeking more answers than anyone at the table were presently prepared to offer, deferring most with the words “ongoing investigation.”
Following the conference, McDaniels, Gloria, and the rest of them headed into the bowels of the Sheriff’s department, where McDaniels pulled Gloria, Mike and Mal into a room he’d been using as his base of operations. There she spent the next several hours being interviewed by McDaniels and Gloria, despite her being on empty.
McDaniels thanked Mal one final time, then left her, Gloria, and Mike alone in Gloria’s office.
Gloria sat at her desk. “Have a seat, you two.”
Mike and Mal sat opposite the sheriff.
“I want to thank you for sticking with this.”
“I’m just glad that Paul Dodd will be behind bars.”
“We haven’t always seen eye to eye, but I’ve always respected you, Mal. Even when I hated you.”
Mal laughed. “The feeling’s mutual, boss.”
Mal hadn’t meant to call her boss, but old habits were stubborn bitches.
“Speaking of boss,” Gloria said, reaching down into her desk drawer, then coming back up with a badge in its case. She slid it across the desk to Mal.
“I know you don’t need the money. But you need to work. This is in your blood, just like it’s in mine, and in Mike’s. We’d love to have you back.”
After a year and a half away from the job, after everything that had happened in the past few days, after thinking she would die at the hands of the monster who murdered her daughter, everything was swelling inside her.
“I don’t know what to say.”
Mike put a hand on her back. “Say yes.”
“But,” she said through tears, “you’ve got Skippy.”
Mike laughed. “Fuck Skippy. I want Mad Dog Mal.”
Mal finally broke down. But for the first time in two years, her tears weren’t born from misery. “Yes. I’d love to come back.”
Gloria stood, then came around the desk and hugged Mal.
For the first time in a long while, Mal was right where she belonged.
**
As Mike drove Mal home, she couldn’t stop thinking about swallowing a couple of pills, crawling into bed, and sleeping for at least a day, if not two.
Her head was pounding again. She was on edge, like she got after going too long without relief.
“You alright?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Just ready for a nap.”
“Yeah, get your naps in while you can. Man, I still can’t believe you’re coming back. You know when?”
Mal was starting to wonder why the hell she’d agreed to return. She needed to kick the pills before going back to work, and she wasn’t sure how.
“No, she told me to let her know when I’m ready, without waiting too long. So, I don’t know. Maybe next month. How long will you need to let Skippy down gently?”
“You didn’t hear? Bell is putting him with you.”
“Fuck you, Mike. That’s not even funny.”
He laughed.
Mal looked down at her phone, seeing texts from several reporters,
including Presley. She wasn’t anywhere near ready for the media spotlight — reporters wanting to ask how it felt to finally find the man who murdered her daughter, wanting to know all about Jessi Price, and whatever other sordid details they might be able to mine from her.
It would be a ratings coup if they could get her crying on-camera. Mal sympathized with Jessi’s mother, and for Paul’s ex-wife. They were about to feel the heat.
Their lives were ruined.
But at least they had their little girls.
Mal would trade it all — the media attention, the whispers from neighbors, and the dirty looks from the holier-than-thou who thought she somehow invited this monster into her life — to have her Ashley back.
She began deleting messages from all but a few of her more trusted reporter contacts. She’d talk to them when she was ready, if only to keep from burning bridges she might need once back on the job.
Mal was in the middle of texting Presley when Mike said, “Oh, boy, here we go.”
He was pulling onto her street — three different news vans were camped outside.
He stopped at the end of the block. “You ready for this?”
Her heart was racing, her chest tightening.
“No. Turn around.”
He did. “So, where to? Wanna crash at my place?”
“Thank you, but no. Just take me to the Hilton.”
“You sure? We’ve got room.”
“No, I’m gonna be with you all the time, I need to ease into it, slowly,” she joked.
But Mal wouldn’t have her pills if she went to the hotel. She’d lost them when taking her clothes off before entering Dodd’s bunker. And it wasn’t like she was going to ask if anyone had seen them. They were a prescription pill, but cops weren’t stupid. Someone would figure out she was an addict and her return to the force would be cut unceremoniously short.
Gloria knew that Mal was a drunk, but hell, plenty of deputies were, and they managed fine. But an addiction to pills was a lot harder to be lenient with.
