She’d survived her attack, only she was the one imprisoned. He was still out there, free to do whatever he wanted. Her parents had tried to shield her, but Maddie had seen the news about the murdered girl. That could have been her. That would have been her if it hadn’t been for Brooke.
Her gaze shot to the window, now black with nightfall, but all she could see was her own reflection. Anyone outside, however, could see her.
Maddie’s phone buzzed.
She picked it up and smiled. She opened the message from Tyler.
MISS YOU.
Her grin spread when the pain in her face was barely an ache. She texted Tyler back.
U2.
He’d stopped to see her yesterday and brought her flowers. He’d also offered to drive her to school and work when she was ready to go back. Until her attacker was caught, Tyler didn’t want her going anywhere alone.
He cared about her, even after she’d broken up with him. Despite the chill of knowing her assailant was still on the loose, warmth glimmered inside Maddie. She wasn’t ready to go back to work or anywhere else just yet—she was barely able to tolerate an hour or two in her room alone, but someday…
Another message from Tyler came through. He was stopping to see her when he got off work.
Scrape.
The high pitch of the sound sent an ache through her teeth. She dropped her phone on the bed and eased to her feet, slowly and carefully. The room spun but settled in a few seconds. The carpet was soft under her bare feet as she walked to the window. She stayed to the edge of the room so she wasn’t visible to anyone outside. The property was backed by woods—the same woods in which she’d been attacked. He could be out there. Watching. Waiting.
Maddie yanked the curtains closed. The sudden movement sent a shaft of pain through the sore muscles of her shoulders. Her head and face had taken the worst of his beating, but the rest of her body hadn’t escaped injury. She went to the top of the stairs. Her hand gripped the banister in case a dizzy spell intruded.
At the bottom of the steps, her feet protested the cold wood floor of the landing. Maddie shivered as she turned toward the family room at the rear of the house. “Dad?”
Her father was in the doorway before she’d traversed the fifteen feet of hallway. His rifle dangled in the crook of his elbow. In his late fifties, balding with a belly that showed his addiction to both Pringles and his recliner, her father wasn’t a threatening physical specimen. But he bagged his buck every season. Maddie had no doubt he’d love nothing better than mounting her attacker’s head on the wall.
His expression softened. “What do you need, sweetheart?”
“Could you trim that big branch on the tree out back tomorrow? It’s rubbing on my window and…”
“I’ll do it right now.”
Maddie glanced at the window. Anxiety rolled through her in a greasy wave. “Tomorrow’s fine.”
But her dad was already moving. “It’ll take three seconds.” He handed the rifle off to her mother. “It’s loaded.”
Mom accepted the heavy weapon with an awkward shift of her slight frame, and Dad headed for the back door.
A fresh burst of fear sprinted through Maddie’s belly. “You don’t have to do this tonight. It’s raining.”
“Sweetheart.” He flipped a wall switch next to the door. A small circle of light spilled onto the deck. “I’ll be right back. It’s barely spitting.”
He opened the door and went outside. His boots clunked across the wood. He descended the steps and exited the yellow sphere cast by the bug bulb. He turned toward the shed at the rear of the property where the yard tools were kept. Then the night swallowed him.
“Close the door, honey,” her mother said.
Maddie squinted into the darkness. A few seconds passed. Sweat ran down her back and soaked her hoodie. Her heartbeat accelerated, pulsing fear through her veins with each quickening pump.
Something rustled.
She darted out the door.
“Maddie, get back inside,” her mother called, but Maddie couldn’t stop. She couldn’t let anything happen to her dad.
He crouched beneath a tree. Under the hood of his jacket, a cold wind blew across his exposed face. Drizzle peppered his cheeks, but he barely felt the chill. The excitement churning in his belly was more than enough to keep him warm.
In the tree’s shadow, he watched the rear of the building. He loved the dark, reveled in the possibilities it created, the metaphorical doors it opened for him.
Certain acts couldn’t be contemplated in the light of day.
Tonight was the culmination of all his experience in hunting prey. In planning. In paying attention to the smallest details.
The door was opening. A figure was coming outside. Was it her?
No. The form was too large. A man walked briskly by, dead leaves scurrying from his path. He burrowed deeper into the shadows, held still, and waited for the man to pass. A moment later he relaxed. There. Her slight, hesitant form slipped out the door and into the night.
A fresh thrill coursed through his veins. This was it. The beginning of tonight’s challenge. He moved into position.
Crossing her arms and rubbing her biceps against the dropping temperature, she walked by, her steps tentative, her eyes searching the darkness. She stopped. Her eyes widened when she saw him. Her face froze in terror.
He grabbed her wrist and yanked her into the shadow. Before she could make a sound, his fist slammed into her temple. She crumpled, and he scooped her limp body into his arms.
Last time he’d made plenty of mistakes. He’s been lazy and over confident.
He hurried toward his vehicle. He juggled her lax body and searched for his keys. Pain blasted through his injured wrist as he shifted her weight. A press of his thumb unlocked the doors. With a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, he maneuvered her onto the back seat. He pulled a small plastic case from the pocket behind the driver’s seat. Inside, the syringe was filled and ready. He couldn’t put her in the trunk; that was reserved. Nor could he risk anyone seeing her flailing around, bound in his car.
Yes, ketamine was cheating, but he’d only measured a small dose, just enough to keep her quiet until showtime. She’d wake up in time for the festivities. Who wanted to fuck an unconscious woman? Might as well switch to necrophilia, and what was the fun in that? No, he liked them alive and kicking.
He arranged her on her side. If anyone looked in the car, she would appear to be sleeping. When he was closer to his destination, zip ties and a blindfold awaited.
Now, on to step two.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Brooke read Chris’s response to her text. He was playing video games. Haley was in her room. Though she knew the kids were fine at Ian’s, her son’s message gave her a sigh of relief.
“Do you still want to go to the gym?” Luke asked.
She considered his question. From his tone, he’d prefer to skip it. But what if the killer wasn’t Owen? “I do.”
“I don’t like it.” He switched on the wipers as a few tiny droplets of rain hit the windshield. “I wanted to have you somewhere safe by dark. The hotel isn’t as secure as my place, but it’s our best option for tonight.”
Thick cloud cover had hastened the arrival of nightfall.
“What if Owen is just a pervert, not a murderer?”
“You didn’t see those pictures.” Disgust rang through Luke’s voice. “I really want to get those files to Mike.”
“He’ll call back. Considering you stole the images, I don’t want to leave them with anyone else.”
“Even so, I don’t know what you hope to accomplish at Forever Fitness.”
“Both girls were members.”
“Could be a coincidence. The girls lived in the same town. They likely crossed paths in more than one way.” Luke stopped at a stop sign, then turned onto Main Street. “Plus, the police already know about the connection between the girls and the gym.”
“
I’d still like to check it out. That guy at the desk was certainly strong enough.” And the super-fit Zack had given Brooke the creeps.
He huffed. “OK. On one condition.”
“What?”
“Afterward, you eat a real meal, and we go to the hotel for the night.”
Brooke’s stomach cramped at the idea of food, but she needed to go to Forever Fitness. It was the only other link they’d found between the two girls. What if they didn’t stop and it turned out that the killer was connected with the gym? She couldn’t live with any more guilt than was already piled on her shoulders. “Deal.”
“Why don’t you call the police chief again?”
Brooke dialed O’Connell’s cell number. A mechanical voice answered and instructed her to press one if her call was an emergency. Brooke pressed number two for voice mail. She left another message. He was probably still tied up with Natalie’s family. Sadness and the urge to help find the young woman’s killer bloomed fresh in Brooke’s belly.
A few minutes later, they pulled into the strip mall that housed Forever Fitness. Luke parked in the puddle of a streetlight and grabbed a gym bag from his trunk. They went inside. The air was humid and smelled of sweat. “I have to change. Please stay in the public areas while I duck into the locker room.”
“Sure.”
Inside, they handed their temporary IDs to the pretty blond girl manning the desk.
“Is Zack working tonight?” Brooke smiled.
“No, he’s off.” The blond entered their membership numbers into the computer. “Did you want to leave him a message?”
“No, thanks.” Brooke scanned the room. She’d really wanted to have a casual conversation with Zack. A few young men grunted in the free weight section. Two girls jogged on treadmills, eyes on the TVs hanging on the opposite wall, earbuds plugged into the machines. She didn’t recognize anyone. What to do? Standing and staring at the other members wasn’t the best way to blend in. She sat down at a chest-press machine. How much weight could she press? She inserted the pin under the forty-pound mark. That’s what the bags of dog food weighed that she carried from the car to the house.
“I thought you called in sick today?”
Her head spun around toward the voice.
Greg was standing next to her. His T-shirt was soaked through, and sweat dripped from his face. He dried his forehead with a towel. “Playing hooky?”
“I took a personal day,” Brooke corrected, her tolerance for Greg’s lack of social grace lower than usual.
“Hey, I could care less.” Greg held up his hands in a defensive gesture. “You never take off.”
“I didn’t see you when I came in.” Brooke scanned the gym.
“I was in the cross-training class.” He jerked a thumb toward the exercise studio. A group of fit-looking men and women were filing out. In fact, Greg was fitter than Brooke had realized. No bulky muscles, but his body was lean and hard-looking. He had the kind of body that could heft dead women and still slip through a narrow basement window. Oh, stop. This was Greg. She’d known him for years. “It’s a tough workout. How’s your knee?”
“Better, but I’m sticking with upper body today.”
Greg nodded. “Smart. So is lifting weights, especially as you get older.”
Brooke bit back the sarcastic retort that wanted to spring free. Instead, she made a noncommittal sound of agreement.
“Well, I have to go shower. Have a great weekend.” He sauntered toward the locker room.
With a nod of acknowledgment, Luke passed the teacher on his way out. He walked over to Brooke and leaned close. “See anything suspicious?”
“Not yet.”
Luke headed for the free weights, where the grunting men gathered.
Brooke turned her attention back to her machine. She gave the handles a push. She could barely budge the lever. Maybe she did need to join the gym. She backed the weight down and tried again. Ugh. Weight lifting sucked. A dozen half-hearted presses later, she moved on. The biceps machine didn’t feel any better. She stood. The room tilted.
Maybe working out with more stress than food in her system wasn’t the best idea. She faked it through another machine with the minimum weight.
She signaled to Luke, who was leg pressing an impressive stack of weights. A couple of minutes later, they were walking toward the car.
“Well, that was a bust.” Brooke wiped a raindrop from her cheek. “We were probably the most suspicious people in the gym.”
“True.” Luke tossed his gym bag in the back seat of the car. “What about that dinner?”
Brooke spotted the Jade Dragon at the other end of the shopping center. “I could probably eat some wonton soup.”
“Works for me. It’ll be quick too.” Luke surveyed the parking lot. “I didn’t want to go back to your house in the dark.”
“Your computer should be done working its magic by the time we get home. We’ll eat and run.” Despite Brooke’s attempt at courage, the darkness raised the hairs on her nape. She moved closer to Luke. Every shadow represented a potential ambush.
A sense of isolation closed in on Luke. He turned at Brooke’s mailbox. The headlights swept over her front lawn. He parked in the driveway and looked up at the dark house.
Damn it.
They hadn’t left any lights on. He’d planned to have Brooke away from here and in a more secure location before nightfall. He’d even booked the room using his corporate credit card to eliminate any link to Brooke. In a decent hotel, there was no longer any such thing as a cash room under a fake name. Photo ID was required for just about any travel arrangements these days. Even though he made a career in the industry, sometimes he longed for the days before 9/11 had raised the world’s security flags.
“Wait here while I check things out.” Luke leaned across the seat and withdrew a flashlight from the glove box. “Lock the doors and—”
“I know.” Brooke cut him off.
He glanced at her. Would she actually drive away and call the police if she thought he was in danger? Probably not. She was a hero. He got out of the car, closed the door, and waited for the locks to click before heading to the house.
The front door swung inward. Darkness swallowed the foyer. Stepping inside, Luke led with the beam of his flashlight, holding it away from his body so he didn’t present a target to anyone who could be hiding in the dark.
Leaving the front door open, he swept the beam around the living room and down the hall. Nothing. The house felt empty without a dog to trip over. Reaching behind him, he flipped three wall switches by the door. Lights illuminated the foyer, the porch, and the lamp post next to the front walk. A glance out the doorway reassured him that Brooke was fine, and no one was lurking on the lawn. He searched the first floor, then every nook and cranny of the basement before heading upstairs to check under beds, in closets, and behind shower curtains. Every light in the house blazed when he went outside to escort Brooke into the house.
She carried the take-out bag to the kitchen. “Did you check your program?”
Luke locked the door. “Not yet.” He checked his laptop. The screen was black. He tapped the touchpad and woke up the hibernating machine. “Finished. Let’s see what we have.”
Brooke brought two bowls of soup to the table. Luke ate while he scanned through the files. Both girls had been very, very busy. “I’m going to sort the results.”
He took his time, letting Brooke finish her dinner before they got back into the case. The list of common links between Maddie’s and Natalie’s profiles grew steadily. Brooke pushed her bowl away still half-full, but it was better than nothing.
“They had more in common than I’d anticipated.” Luke scrolled through the list.
Brooke took her bowl to the sink. She returned to lean over his shoulder. “The list is two pages long.”
“Apparently, they’re both very popular.”
“How do we narrow it down?” Brooke’s voice rose with the tint of desperation.
“We don’t.” Luke saved the results in a separate file. “The police will investigate. Have you heard back from Mike?”
Brooke pulled out her cell phone. “Shoot. The battery is dead. I’ll go get my charger. It’s in my overnight bag.”
She went down the hall.
“Repack it while you’re up there,” Luke called after her. His own bag was still in his trunk from the night before. “I want to get out of here soon.”
Brooke returned a few minutes later. A charging cord dangled from her hand. She dropped her bag by the doorway. “I have an idea.”
Uh-oh. Brooke’s ideas meant trouble.
“I’m going to call Maddie and go through this list with her.” Brooke plugged in her phone. “She can at least tell us how she is connected to these people and organizations. Let me see the list.”
Luke turned his computer around. “Brooke, I think you should leave this to the police.”
“It’s just a phone call.” She waved his concern away.
“That’s how it starts.” Luke pushed his bowl away, anxiety unsettling his stomach. “We’re going to drop off these files and the pictures I stole from Owen Zimmerman at the police station. Then we are holing up somewhere safe for the night.”
“Of course.” Brooke nodded. “This won’t take more than a few minutes. If Maddie can eliminate anything from this list, it’ll save the police time. We have to stop Natalie’s killer before he hurts another girl.”
We, not the police. “Brooke, you have to stop doing this.”
“Doing what?” Brooke’s face paled. “She’s not answering.”
“Maybe her phone is dead too.”
“No.” She shoved a hand into her hair, her eyes white rimmed, her lips compressed in a flat, bloodless line. “I might let my battery run out once in a while, but Haley would never let that happen. That phone is practically fused to her hand. As much as Maddie posts online, I’m sure she’s the same way.”
Brooke paced a frantic circle as she redialed. “Damn it. Where is she?”
She Can Scream Page 24
