He shrugged. “Don’t feel bad. Women seldom do.”
* * *
Jake sipped at a glass of remarkably light Merlot. Evie knew how to pick her wines. He flipped to the back of the photo album to find her birth certificate.
“So you really are twenty-nine.”
There were also college transcripts and diplomas. Interspersed were pictures of Evie playing softball, and a stunning picture of her smiling her way through glee club.
He looked to the hamster, who was lazily running on his wheel. “So why aren’t you in any of these?” he asked. “Hmm? Have you come on the scene lately?”
As a matter of fact, there weren’t a whole lot of pictures after college graduation. There was a wedding invitation, but no wedding announcement. Interesting.
“Or has she got a guy on the side that neither one of us knows about?”
Jake took another slow, long sip of the tasty red wine as he leaned back against the sectional.
* * *
Back watched as the bitch shook as she sat on Darion’s cot. Guess it wasn’t quite the haven, the salvation she thought it was going to be. Darion was all super cool, sitting on the floor next to the cot, all gentlemanly. Right.
His gaze never wandered far from the chick’s rack, though. Darion might be all evolved and all, but he was still packing a set of balls. But right now, he just liked seeing the broad quiver.
“Your nipples are dark, aren’t they?” Back asked.
“I don’t know,” Door commented. “I take her for a pinky.”
The puta put her fingers in her ears, but that just meant Back was getting warmed up.
“Nah, they’re dark. And hard. Especially after I squeeze them between—”
Darion suddenly stood up.
“That’s enough of amateur porn hour.”
“You know, fuck you and your pseudo sympathy. You want to fuck her as bad as we do.”
Darion frowned that fucking superior frown of his. “Ever so eloquent.”
He looked down to Evie, who looked up, tears in her eyes. A fucking Waltons' moment. Well, Back knew how to take care of that.
“You want to fuck her.”
“Yeah, fuck her,” Door took up the call.
“Fuck her,” Back repeated, pumping his fist up and down. This might get good after all. Even Clyde joined in.
The chick started sobbing, again. Jesus, what a cry baby.
“That’s right, bitch. You’ll be doing a lot of that when I—”
Out of nowhere, a shaving blade flew through the air, slicing Back’s cheek. Okay, not out of nowhere, but from Darion’s cell.
“Fuck!” Back yelled. That stung like a bitch.
Darion stood there looking so damned smug. He sat down next to the broad again, seeming satisfied with his little trick. Back touched his cheek, pulling back blood.
“Oh!” Andrew shouted. “We are seeing Darion in true form tonight!”
“That was the last of your stash, prick,” Back said, referring to the box of blades that Darion had gotten a hold of a month ago. “Don’t think we haven’t been counting.” He pointed a finger at the sanctimonious douche. “Tomorrow, Darion. Tomorrow we settle this!”
* * *
Andrew chuckled—you know, as long as Back was locked up. “Dude, that’s what you say before every death match.”
Evie hugged her knees to her chest as the lights lowered for sleep. Andrew loved this time of day. All the destruction was over with and it was time to go nighty-night.
Even Esau’s constant prayers sounded comforting. He wanted God to keep his soul if anything happened in the night, which around here, it might very well happen.
“What’s tomorrow?” Evie whispered.
Darion shook his head. “You don’t want to know.”
Oh how Andrew wanted to tell her, though. There was so much to tell. So many stories of past death matches. But, clearly, Darion didn’t want her to have an aneurism before the morning, so Andrew kept his mouth shut.
Esau finished up his prayer. “Into your hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit. Hail Mary. Amen.”
“Amen,” Andrew and everyone else repeated. And yes, that even included Darion. He tried to act all tough, but deep down he was human as any of them.
“Sweet dreams,” Andrew commented as he lay back onto his cot, closing his eyes, ready for sleep.
CHAPTER 7
Jake jerked awake. What the hell had happened? Sunlight streamed in through the blinds. He sat up on the couch only to have the photo album fall from his chest.
His phone vibrated on the glass coffee table, playing the theme to Mortal Kombat. His hand groped around until he grabbed it, running a hand over his stubbly cheeks.
“What?”
Anyone calling this early did not deserve a civil tone.
“Dude, you are the one who told me to call you as soon as I had any results,” Brad said from the other side of the line.
“And?” Jake asked half-heartedly.
“Well, your Evelyn… Um, Montgomery, is the one that bled in that alley.”
That got Jake’s eyes open. Only then did he realize he wasn’t in his apartment, but hers.
“Oh shit.,”
“What?” Brad asked.
Jake surveyed his surroundings. Empty Merlot bottle on the table. Hamster in the corner. Photo album on the floor. Yep, this was Evelyn’s apartment all right.
“Nothing,” Jake said.
“Dude, that was so not a nothing kind of ‘oh shit.’”
Jake knew Brad. He would not let this go. He was like the office TMZ. If there was a scandal, he would find it. Best to be as honest as possible and hope Brad just didn’t find the information juicy enough to pursue.
“Oh, I just woke up in a strange woman’s apartment.”
“Finally!” Brad exclaimed. “So I take it that you hooked up with that Candace chick from the internet dating site?”
Jake shook his head, more to clear it than thinking that Brad could see him. “No. No. Just someone I met last night. You don’t know her. Hell, even I don’t know her.”
“He shoots and he scores!” Brad said, laughing.
“Yeah, a three pointer, that’s me.”
Brad seemed satisfied with that and moved on. “So, did Ms. Montgomery come home last night?”
Okay, he had moved on to a sensitive topic. Jake needed to move this conversation onto more stable ground.
“Anything on the tire tracks from the crime scene?”
“Oh, just the kidnapper’s perennial favorite. A van. I’m going to go out on a limb and say domestic van. Paneled. My bet? No back or side windows.”
That wouldn’t be a bad bet. “Anything else?” Jake asked.
“Well, your girl has moved around a lot.
Jake picked up the photo album and flipped to the one of Evie out on a picnic with her family.
“Where do her parents live?”
“Sorry,” Brad said. “They died in a car accident back in ‘04.”
Jake flipped to the picture where Evie’s engagement ring was prominent.
“Husband?” Jake asked.
“Nope,” Brad responded. “No marriage licenses or birth records under her name.”
“No one to miss her,” Jake said.
“Huh?”
Jake shook off his melancholy and flipped through more pictures. “She was engaged once,” Jake explained. “I believe, back in Baltimore. Could you track him down?”
“Dude, I’m off in fifteen minutes.”
“Well, if you want the number for Miss Easy from last night, you better get moving.”
That got Brad motivated. “On it,” he said, just before he clicked his phone off.
Jake shut his phone, gathered a few photos from the album, and rose to leave. Unfortunately, the movement also stirred his body odor. Not a pleasant experience. He sniffed under his arms. How long had it been since he showered?
He glanced up the steps to Evie’s bedroom. Ther
e was a master bath off the bedroom equipped with a claw-footed tub. It looked long enough that even Jake could stretch out in it.
Looking over to the hamster, Jake asked, “Herbie, don’t think she’d mind if I used her shower, do you?”
The hamster responded by rubbing his face with his little white paws, then twitching his whiskers.
“Me either,” Jake said, bounding up the stairs.
* * *
Darion sat pulling strips of cloth from a blanket as Evie slept beside him. Her ample bosom rose and fell in a nice steady pattern. It was almost hypnotizing. Then she started awake, her metal fragment at the ready.
“Not feeling all that ‘grateful’. Got it.”
The rest of the men were busy chanting, “Bacon, bacon, bacon.”
“What’s happening?” Evie asked.
Andrew had been wound up all morning, eager to play with his new friend, so Darion let him field this one.
“Traditionally, whenever we get ‘fresh meat,’ bacon is served.”
“It’s quite the event,” Door confirmed.
“You mean, someone is coming in?” Evie asked.
“Don’t get too excited,” Darion said. “It’s just Igor.”
The metal door screeched open as a food cart was rolled in by Igor. The guy had a limp, nearly dragging his left leg, a lazy eye, and a bald head. You could see why even though no one knew his name, everyone called him Igor. You could see the disappointment on Evie face.
“I warned you…”
Still, she cried out, “Help!”
As the mute man wheeled the cart forward, the fragrance of bacon filled the room. Then the wheels caught on something—Clyde’s something— and stopped.
“Ha!” Door chuckled. “Clyde, looks like we’re having sausage, instead! Yours!”
Igor ignored everything around him. Instead, he tried to trudge ahead, but the flesh in the wheels wouldn’t allow him to. He bent over and grabbed the offending appendage and pulled it out. The phallus hung limp in his hand. He then tossed the penis into the small trash bucket on the cart.
“Oh!” Andrew cried out. “That had to hurt!”
“Help me!” Evie screamed. Clearly, she wasn’t exactly getting the picture here.
“He’s deaf,” Papa said.
“Or just really, really, really stupid,” Back added.
Esau began his prayer. “God is great. God is good.”
Evie shook the bars. “Please, please. You’ve got to help me!”
Igor completely ignored her and passed out trays of bacon to the other men. Per usual, Igor would wait for the men to back away, then shove a tray in. The men would wait until he went to the next cell before descending on their food tray.
Evie shoved her arm through the bars, trying to get Igor’s attention. “Please, just let me out.”
Instead of moving closer, though, Igor moved away from Darion’s cell.
“You have to give him room,” Andrew explained. “Or he won’t give you your bacon.”
“Please, please, please,” Evie begged. “Just unlock the door.”
Instead, though, he fed Clyde. The large man crawled over to his tray, wrapping one arm around it to protect it as he shoved bacon into his mouth.
“Bitch, once I get my strength back, you’d better watch yourself. Not even Darion can save you.”
Well, Darion would disagree, but the shape Clyde was in? He might as well let the hick have his fantasy.
“Please,” Evie begged, her voice going up an octave. “You’ve got to help me.”
Actually, Igor didn’t have to do anything, as he rounded up the empty trays and headed back out the door.
“Don’t leave!” Evie screamed. “Please. Don’t!”
* * *
Igor paused at the door. Had her plea worked? The odd man turned on his heel. For the first time since her abduction, Evie felt hope swell. However, he did not come over to her. Instead, he milled around in the mid-section of the cart.
“Please, I’ll…” Evie gulped. “I’ll do anything.”
And in this moment, she meant it.
“Sure, right,” Back snorted. “That’s what you say now, but then your little fucking knife comes out, and ‘whack.’”
Evie ignored the rapist and focused on Igor. “Please,” she said, more silky than desperate. “I’ll be so grateful.”
Igor rose up with a box full of cupcakes. Cupcakes. This place was so wrong, just wrong.
He set a cupcake in front of each cell, then abruptly left.
“No, no, no, no, no,” Evie cried, but the man went out the door, then slammed it shut.
Darion put his hand on her shoulder. Evie spun around, the metal fragment at the ready. She might be ready to offer herself to the strange man, but Darion? Unless he had a key out of here, no way.
“I told you, Webster’s.”
Darion held up his hands in surrender. “If there’s dessert out there, then there’s going to be a free-for-all soon.”
The cold sound of a metal lock reverberated through the dungeon.
Evie rushed to the cell door. “No! Come back!”
* * *
Jake came down the stairs, drying out his ears with a plush Egyptian cotton towel. Evie’s home phone rang several times as he wrapped the bath sheet around his waist. The top edge of the towel brushed against the base of his scar. Not even its luscious softness could sooth the angry red tissue that ran from his pelvis across his abdomen and up his chest. The shrink kept telling him to put the incident behind him, but it was a little hard when that scar stared back at him every morning.
The answering machine beeped. “Evie, I’m not sure if we got our wires crossed, but I thought you were coming in this morning.”
“Well, somebody besides Herbie is missing you,” Jake commented.
The voice went on, “Look, we’re really short-handed, so if you get this message, please call.”
Jake checked the caller ID. “West Valley Women’s Shelter.”
He felt his breath catch in his chest. It couldn’t be.
“No!” he yelled to Herbie as he grabbed his clothes.
* * *
Darion continued ripping sheet strips while he watched as Evie leaned her forehead against the bars. Her arms were still out, as if begging could bring Igor through the door.
“Please,” she whispered into the dungeon. “Come back.”
Esau, of course, was reciting scripture as the rest of the men prepared for the free-for-all.
“He’s not coming back,” Papa said.
Evie stood up, blinking a few times. Tears streaked down her face. “I shouldn’t be here. This is some horrible mistake.”
“Yes, yes it is,” Papa agreed. Of course Papa agreed. His whole grandfather shtick required empathy. “Just like me. I shouldn’t be here, either. A case of mistaken identity. A travesty.”
“Look!” Andrew announced. “Some of the cupcakes have sprinkles!”
Back snorted. “Seriously, you’re the one who shouldn’t be here.”
“You don’t even qualify as a serial killer,” Door commented.
“That’s a lie!” Andrew shouted back. “By the FBI’s guidelines, I’ve killed three people on three separate occasions with no motive such as monetary gain. I did it for the pleasure of it.”
“Yeah, right,” Clyde teased, although the strain clearly showed on his face as he balled up in pain. “The first one you… you…”
Since it didn’t look like the hick was going to finish any time soon, Door continued, “You accidently stepped on the guy’s oxygen tubing.”
“No,” Andrew protested. “I just convinced everyone it was an accident.”
“You tried to give the guy CPR, ya dork,” Door said. “You had no idea that was you choking him off.”
Andrew tossed his head in indignation. “I still caused his death and got a taste for it.”
Back laughed harshly. “Excuse me? Your second ‘kill’ was a broad in a coma. How har
d is it to kill someone who is fucking brain dead?”
After a humph, Andrew crossed his arms. “My third wasn’t.”
Door shook his head. “Yeah, but she was eighty-seven, senile and paralyzed from the waist down.”
“Plus,” Back stated, “you killed her in her sleep!”
Andrew straightened up. “Still! She woke up and put up a fight, man.”
Darion was used to the banter. What else did everyone have to do in the dungeon during the long hours of down time? Evie, though, was crying again. Quietly, but still crying.
“Are you ready to listen?” Darion asked.
She shook her head, causing tear drops to spray across the bed. “Leave me alone.”
“Once those door open?” Darion said. “There will be no negotiating. No amount of gratitude will save you. They’re all be pain.”
“Just leave me alone!” she shouted, brandishing her metal fragment again.
CHAPTER 8
Jake rushed into his lieutenant’s office as the older man was going over some paperwork. He looked years older than his fifty-nine years. The graying of not only his temples, but eyebrows and mustache only accentuated the effect. Plus all those worry lines. Being a cop was not easy on the aging process.
The lieutenant looked up as Jake entered. “Aren’t you off?”
“Yeah, but I’ve got a break in the case.”
“Great,” Lieutenant Breaker said. Then his bushy eyebrows knitted together. “Wait. You don’t have any active cases.”
Jake pulled a folder out from under his arm and put it on Breaker’s desk. “The Starvin’ Marvin case.”
Breaker took off his black-rimmed glasses and looked at Jake. “You do realize that’s not an actual case, right?”
Jake tapped the folder. “You call five women dead from a week’s worth of starvation natural causes?”
The lieutenant shook his head. “Jake, they were homeless, and I believe one of the supposed victims frequently refused food at the soup kitchen because she insisted that Christ himself was going to bake her bread.”
Jake sat down hard on the wooden chair opposite Breaker’s desk. He hated the way his lieutenant looked at him. He hated the way everyone in the station looked at him. The pity and disappointment, but also the fear—it haunted them just behind the eyes. No one liked to have their mortality challenged. And Jake was one big walking billboard for what could happen to you on the job.
Don't Read After Dark: Keep the lights on while reading these! (A McCray Horror Collection) Page 5
