by Terry Towers
“So still the martyr, huh? Not because there’s a part of you that connects with me?”
“This…” I motioned between us. “This is so disgustingly broken.”
“Says who?” With the bandages secure he attempted to roll to his side facing me, grimaced and rolled back onto his stomach. “If anything this is one of the purest relationships either of us will or would have ever been in.”
Laughing hard at the insanity of his statement I gave my head a shake. “I think those little blue pills have really made you loopy.”
“Couples spend every moment of their time together lying to each other, pretending to be what they’re not. It’s all a game, whether they believe it or not. You talk about purity. What we have is pure.”
I sat, my mouth dropping open. He really had gone off of the rails.
He grunted as he shifted positions, turning to his side despite the pain. “It’s pure because neither of us is putting on a show for the other person. I don’t hide who I am, regardless of how repulsive it may be to you, and neither do you. You can fuck me, hate me, hurt me and enjoy it without shame You can be the worst version of yourself without judgement. We may clash, but ultimately we fit together.”
He reached out and ran his fingers through a lock of my hair. “This isn’t a crock of shit I’m saying to get you into bed. I’ll fuck you when I want. This is the truth. My darkness needs your light, and as much as you need my darkness to help you discover you really are. In time, you’ll see it as I do. What we have is complicated, savage, primal, but we’re real.”
Was he right? Or was I being pulled into his delusions? Not wanting to dive down that rabbit hole, I turned the tables on him. “How can I possibly love a man who’s too scared to love me back?”
His eyes narrowed at me, his jaw clenching. “I’m not scared, Emily. We’ve already discussed this. It’s not in me to feel that.”
“Bullshit!” Anger began to well up in me. I don’t know why it made me so angry; perhaps it was because there was a fucked-up part of me that wanted his love. Actually, if I were to be honest with myself, despite all the disgusting, horrible things this man was, the answer was yes. Yes, I wanted his love, I wanted the fairy tale and I was falling for a man who refused to give it to me. “I call bullshit on that.”
His expression turned angry. “You know nothing about it.”
“I know what you’ve told me. You’ve told me you could change it if you wanted. If you tried.”
Tanner huffed. “I was drunk.”
“You’re full of shit. You knew exactly what you were talking about.” We stared at each other, tempers flaring. After a minute I stood, ending the standoff. “I’m going to the living room to watch some television. Yell if you need me.”
Not waiting for an answer, I went to his closet and pulled it open, grabbing a T-shirt and then a pair of jogging pants. Screw him if he wanted me naked; it wasn’t like he could do anything about it at the moment. When he recovered maybe, but for now I was the boss. A surge of self-satisfaction raced through me. Looking over my shoulder, I gave him a smirk; he didn’t protest, but did wag a finger at me, which made my smile widen.
Scurrying from the bedroom, I made my way into the living room. He didn’t yell after me, but I heard a soft groan and the crush of the mattress as he moved on the bed. I really didn’t know what to think about what had gone down. Every moment with Tanner was a rollercoaster ride of emotion. I’d never felt such extreme highs and lows in my life – everything I felt was amplified, from anger to lust to everything in between. He was right, he brought something out in me, though I wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not – I suspected not.
****~
Tanner
It fucking sucked to be bedridden. The past couple of days had been spent in a drug-induced haze, but this was day three after the whipping incident and it was time to get to the bottom of the mystery that was Pastor William. The man could be very dangerous, and if he was what I suspected he may be, then there was a chance he’d be out searching for Emily and me. I didn’t take chances and a little injury certainly wouldn’t have me taking one.
“Thanks, Emily.” I accepted the laptop from Emily and settled it on my lap.
She didn’t move from my bedside and so I looked back up and met her gaze. “Need anything else?” she asked.
My eyes slowly scanned the T-shirt and jogging pants she was wearing. She’d been wandering around the house fully clothed, her dark hair tied up in a ponytail for the past few days, secure in the knowledge I couldn’t do a damned thing about it. I know she got off on knowing it pissed me off to no end. But at the same time it was amusing. She was acting like she was the one in control – untouchable. I suppose she was, for now. “You realize that your days strutting around here looking like that are numbered.”
She shrugged. “But you’re not going to do a damned thing about it today, and I’m guessing not tomorrow either.”
“Don’t count on it. And just so you know, the first thing I do when I’m up and about – which should be tomorrow – is to tear those clothes from your body and fuck you till you’re too sore to be prancing around here like you own the place.” Despite my words, a smile spread across my lips.
“But that won’t be today.” The little bitch gave me a wink, twirled on her heel and practically skipped from the bedroom. No, that’s inaccurate – she didn’t practically skip, she DID skip from the room as if she hadn’t a care in the world.
Giving my head a shake, I looked back down at the computer screen and booted up the laptop. Time to get down to business and find out all about Pastor Williams. The laptop hummed to life and the log-in screen appeared. Typing in my password, I waited for the internet to connect. Once it did, I began typing. I’d been giving it some thought as I laid in bed – fuck, that was all I was able to do – and decided to start searching big crimes first, murders and such, in all of the cities during the years Emily’s family lived there, and then narrow it down. It would be like a needle in a haystack and maybe a big motherfucking waste of time, but…
I swear, it was like the gods were looking down on me.
After six hours of digging, my eyes burning from staring at the computer screen for so long, I found a connection. Boston, Orlando, Seattle… All of the cities Emily had mentioned to me, during the years that she’d said they had lived there, had one thing in common.
The Proverbs 31 Killer.
The M.O. was the same for each murder. A hooker, between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one, all murdered roughly twenty months apart and spanning over twenty years. All were found on the steps of a church – none of which were his – naked, raped and with the numbers 31:10-31 across their chest, cut with what the FBI suspected was a scalpel. The FBI had no leads at this time and were not disclosing any information they had on him aside from the fact that the man was right-handed and suspected to be between the ages of forty and fifty-five.
“Well, fuck me.” I released a breath of air in a loud puff.
“Are you all right?”
I glanced over to see Emily standing in the doorway. Quickly, I X’d out of the screen I was in and gave her a smile. “Fine, baby. I’ll come out in a bit for supper.”
She leaned against the doorjamb and chewed at her lower lip, eyeing me. “I can bring it in, no need to play the hero.”
“Hardly the hero, love. Have you already forgotten I’m the villain?”
“But sometimes the villain can change.”
“Not usually. Usually they die a horrid death or find themselves behind bars.”
“Is it so bad that I want to believe in the fairy tale?”
“I suppose not.” Giving her a smile, my gaze locked with hers and I could see the flickers of affection in her gaze, and she wasn’t even attempting to hide it. Something had changed between us over the past few days of her nursing me back to health and I liked it. We’d been together for close to two months now and we’d just gotten to the point where I wanted us
to be and I was going to be forced to fuck it all up when I put a bullet in the head of the Proverbs 31 Killer.
Chapter 24
Proverbs 31 Killer – One Week Ago
My eyes spotted the man sitting way too close to my daughter as I began wrapping up my sermon. I’d been allowing her to sit towards the back because she claimed she couldn’t handle being put on display due to her sister’s disappearance. I was hardly a fool, I knew it was bullshit, but for the sake of appearing like a sympathetic father to the parishioners, I allowed it.
Rebecca appeared very cosy with the stranger. I could tell even from this distance that he was a smooth player. Well I had news for him. If he thought he was going to score with my daughter he was sorely mistaken.
Ending the sermon, I stepped down from the stage and my wife rushed to my side. Together we made the perfect couple, the ideal Christian family. I had to present the image of being the perfect father, husband and pillar of the community in order to go about my hobbies unnoticed. No one ever suspects their pastor, the man they looked up to and from whom they seek guidance, to be a man with dark desires raging within.
While pasting a smile on my face and making small talk with the people who approached, I kept an eye on the man she was next to. He looked familiar, not on a personal level, but the man’s face looked familiar. My eyes narrowed as I examined him from afar, searching my brain and attempting to connect the dots, and then it became clear – so goddamed clear it felt like I’d been struck by a tractor trailer.
I’d examined the surveillance footage from the bar with intense scrutiny and that man was in it. Now, that’s not to say it couldn’t be a coincidence. Perhaps the man happened to be there and happened to want to extend his prayers to my family. But I doubted it. A little buzzer was going off in the back of my head telling me something was up, and I was going to get to the bottom of it.
Excusing myself from my wife’s side, leaving her to humour the parishioners, I made my way down the aisle towards the man and Rebecca, forcing a smile onto my lips. They both stood as I approached and extended a hand to the stranger. “Hello, I’m Pastor William. I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before. Your first visit with us?”
The stranger returned my smile, giving a curt nod and accepting my outstretched hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. This is a beautiful church.”
“Thank you. Our family just took over here a few months ago. And you are?” If this man was who I suspected he may be, my daughter’s kidnapper, then the chances of getting his real name would be slim to none.
He didn’t blink, he didn’t even hesitate. He was good. “Lance Winters.”
My smile fading, I placed a look of disdain on my face. “I see. Unfortunately, our move here hasn’t been the kindest to us. Our oldest daughter has been missing for over a month now.”
The man mimicked my expression. “I’m so… I’m at a loss, to be honest. If there’s anything I can do. I’d heard and felt compelled to come here and offer myself in any way possible.”
“Just keep her in mind.” Reaching into my inner jacket pocket, I produced a wallet-sized picture of Emily. “This is Emily. If you have any information on her whereabouts, you’ll let me know.” Watching him closely as he accepted the picture, I saw a flick of recognition. It was fleeting, but it was there. Had it been anyone else, they would have missed it, but not me.
“Of course.”
I looked over at my daughter, the daughter who was so much like me it was both scary and exhilarating. Unlike her sister, who was disappointingly emotionally weak, much like her mother, Rebecca was a sweet, cunning, beautiful predator-in-training. “Sweetheart, could you fetch your mother for me?”
“Yes, Daddy.” She gave the stranger a flirtatious smile and left.
Leaning in to the man whom I was becoming more and more convinced was either responsible for or associated with the disappearance of my daughter, I put my hand on his shoulder, leaning in to him, my stare locking on to his. This man might be younger and have the upper hand in knowing where my daughter was, but I had years on him. I’d spent over two decades fulfilling every sick fantasy that popped into my mind while giving off the impression of the role-model citizen. The cocky son-of-a-bitch who dared come into my church had no idea who he was dealing with.
“You know, Mr. Winters, I have faith I’ll find her and I’ll find the man who took her. I may be a man of God, but no one takes from me. The man who took my daughter had better watch himself.” My hand tightened on his shoulder. “I will find him.”
Our gazes remained locked. He refused to back down; he was challenging me, taunting me. How dare that piece of shit challenge me?
“Hello, I don’t recall seeing you here before.” Upon hearing my wife’s voice coming up from behind me, I released him and straightened, pulling my wife to my side.
Mary extended her hand to Mr. Winters and he accepted it. “I’m new. I admit, I was drawn to the church because of your missing daughter. It’s a tragedy. You’ve been in my prayers since I heard. I pray for her safe return every night.”
She sniffed, pulling a tissue from her black leather handbag. “Thank you.” My wife had been taking Emily’s disappearance hard. I certainly didn’t envy how she so easily felt sorrow – although I did pity her for it.
“So you live nearby?” Rececca asked.
He gave Rebecca another flirty smile, no doubt to spite me. “Not far.”
I stepped in front of my daughter, partially blocking her from the man’s view. “Yes, Mr. Winters, I make it a point to spend time with every member of this parish, I’d love to drop by sometime.”
“I’m between places at the moment. Otherwise…” He stepped forward and extended his hand to me, giving me a smug smile, taunting me, like he knew everything. “It’s been good meeting you. I’ll be in touch.”
He was on to me just as I was on to him. How much did he know? Nothing, I decided. How could he? Every kill was perfect. My wife had no idea. Hell the FBI has been chasing me for over twenty years and had yet to catch me. I was giving the man before me more respect than he deserved thinking he may have discovered my little secret. I accepted his hand. “Please do that. This is a big parish, but we’re more like a family here. Please come back soon. I’d love to get to know you better.”
I watched his back as he walked away, until he was out of sight. I hadn’t even noticed my wife’s questioning gaze fixated on me until I turned. She opened her mouth to speak, but thought twice, snapping it closed again. She knew better than to question me when I was in a mood, and this intruder had certainly put me in a mood, which pissed me off more.
Nobody rattles me and he’d managed to. Some punk kidnapper. I had no desire to kill someone so soon after my last kill, but it might need to be done. And I can’t say I was repulsed by the idea. Normally I had a routine, and killing a man was rare for me, but I certainly wasn’t repulsed by the idea.
Giving my wife’s hand a pat where it was placed delicately on my forearm, I flashed her a smile, then leaned down and placed a tender kiss on the top of the head. “Would you please give my apologies to our parishioners? Something’s come up that I need to attend to.”
Not waiting for an answer, I parted from my wife and made my way to the back of the church and to my office. Once in my office, I closed the door and sat behind my desk, turning on the ancient computer. As soon as the internet connected I typed in the name he’d given me, not expecting a result.
To my shock, pages of hits popped up. It might be a coincidence. Just because pages popped up it didn’t mean I’d found my man. I began reading. Lance Winters did in fact exist, or had existed. Son of Senator Walter Winters, who’d died in an explosion. Lance had gone missing over six months ago, leaving a sizable inheritance in limbo. The police had no leads.
I found a picture of Lance Winters. It wasn’t the man who’d shown up earlier. I wasn’t surprised; I’d expected as much. But why give the name Lance Winters?
The beauty
of the internet is that if you’re diligent you can find out literally anything – even the mystery of Lance Winters and his father. So I dug. After an hour, a light tap came on my office door.
Letting out a growl of frustration, I sat back in my chair and eyed the door. “Come in.”
“Honey.” Mary poked her head into the office and hesitated. When I motioned for her to enter she came in all the way. “Everyone is gone. Are you going to be much longer?”
I glanced down at the computer screen. Pages upon pages of information awaited me. I was tempted to leave it for the day so I could give the situation some thought, but no, I couldn’t. This had to be taken care of. If my hunch was correct, the identity of the man would lead me to Emily.
Pushing down my anger, I smiled up at my wife. “I’d love to, but I have a fair amount of work to do here. How about you and Rebecca go home and I’ll follow when I’m done?”
“Are you sure? If you’re going to be a while I can come back with lunch.”
“No, I’m fine.”
She smiled. “All right. I love you.”
“Love you too. Now go.” I kept the smile on my face, but God did I hate all that lovey-dovey shit. I’d endured it for twenty years. Oh well, small price to pay for the perfect cover. Besides, Mary was the perfect Christian woman – her world revolved around making me happy, she obeyed without question and she worshipped the ground I walked on. It was hard to find an obedient, self-sacrificing, pure woman like that nowadays.
That was why I did my part to rid the world of the whores. Not only did I get the relief from the kill, but also I was sending a message – my signature. The message couldn’t be more clear; if you indulge in the sins of the flesh before marriage, if you behave in a way unbecoming of a pure Christian woman, then there are consequences. I am that consequence.
Once she was gone and the door closed firmly behind her, I went back to my investigation. Hours went by, but the information I uncovered was mind-blowing. The Senator Walter Winters was allegedly at the head of an international human sex-trafficking organization. That drew me to the assumption that, considering his son’s disappearance, his son was also in on it.
