Evil Cries

by Lala Corriere

  I managed five words. “You bought them for me?”

  Marcus answered, backing away only slightly, “I wanted him to have a feeling of success and happiness. Emotions that might keep you happy while you were trapped there with him. Until you recognized your true soul mate.”

  The disregard for the artwork told a different story. My fleeting moment of dancing free of my inhibitions ended with my body feeling like a vinyl Kewpie Doll that had been abandoned on the dashboard of a car. In the desert. In June.

  “You were the reason he had to keep going back to Chicago?” I asked.

  “If by he you mean this Gage fellow, I made him feel like something. Something he’ll never feel again with his raw talent. It kept him busy.”

  “You wanted him away from me,” I whispered.

  “Perhaps.”

  My arms started shaking and my hands clenched. “Did you try to drive him off of that cliff on Mt. Lemmon?” I demanded.

  “We don’t need to go there, Darling. I only want what’s best for you and you know that. Or you will. For the rest of our lives.”

  I wanted to reel around and slap him in the face and kick him in the nuts. Instead, my rage subsided into a physical resignation. How long can you cringe under the face of evil before you simply want to fall away? I felt myself collapsing into the only arms that could hold me. The devil’s.

  On the floor, Marcus moved to hold me tighter. Too tight. I spoke, “It was you. You are the one that brought that Rachel Lee back into our lives.”

  “My sweet White Goddess. What they did is none of our business. It’s good you understand that man has fallibilities. Flaws. Failures.”

  I jolted up, now standing on shaky legs with my back arched. “I’m not understanding anything and I’m not yours. I need to leave.”

  “You’ve had far too much to drink.”

  “Frankly, I think it would be better if I was picked up on a DUI than stick around here.”

  With Marcus’s weak push of only one hand, I fell back to the ground.

  The harnesses and reigns and ropes seemed harmless enough draped on a nearby table in the stables. They now became the tools of my captivity.

  I screamed out to Chef. He would be the only one to possibly hear me. In seconds my feet and legs were now bound.

  Marcus laughed. “Oh, my silly White Goddess. Don’t worry. We’re going to get through this and you will finally understand our love.”

  I screamed again.

  “That’s not nice. I really wish you hadn’t done that. My hearing is so sensitive. Those piercing sounds really annoy me. I love you and I’m sorry, but for now, until you come to your senses—”

  Chapter 77

  Unwanted Sleep

  WITH ONE SWIFT MOVEMENT the silver duct tape flew around my mouth and around the back of my head. Back across my mouth again.

  Marcus said, “Now that I have your attention, well—you know. I was a bit longer out at my car getting our sound system so that we would have some music to dance the night away. Too late for that, of course, but I wanted you to have this. The time has come.”

  He reached for a Falls & Falls bag. Inside the bag, he reached for the Falls & Falls burgundy velvet box. And inside, he removed the amazing engagement ring I has sold him.

  My hands bound, he slipped it on my finger, despite the fact my finger was gnarled and stiffened like a scrap piece of a car horn in a salvage yard.

  “It’s okay, Sterling. I think we should plan to marry abroad. Away from here. Maybe some place like Costa Rica.”

  I felt the tears sliding down my face. I did not want to cry. I wanted to spit at him and bite him, but my mouth was taped over.

  “Okay. Not Costa Rica, but some wonderful island. I’m going to guess we may need to be gone about a month before we can return. Maybe we never return.”

  I shook my head.

  “Okay. You don’t like that idea. It will still work out. I need to know your cycle. I’ll marry you, and impregnate you. And once we are all on track with our union and our upcoming family, we can return to our beautiful ranch and no one will interfere. Babies make for peacemakers.”

  I tried to raise my fists to punch his face. Knock his eyes out of the sockets. Raise my feet to kick him in the groin. It was of little use, and the tears I tried hopelessly to restrain kept falling.

  He reached into my purse and pulled out my keys. “I think we should take your car. I have it parked out front now. Not a long way for me to carry you. We have to be on our way now, my White Goddess. I have two choices. I could put you in the trunk and you’d go ballistic. That’s just not the right way for me to treat you. Instead, I’m going to give you a little shot. Trust me. You’ll just go to sleep and when you wake up you’ll be aboard my beautiful yacht, The Sarah. Then you will understand everything that is you and me and we can plan our future together. You’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

  Within seconds, I didn’t see anything.

  Chapter 78

  Copycat

  SHIRLEY HAD HER TEAM, and more so.

  Within minutes her car had been towed to the nearby parking lot and she was in the police cruiser ranting out orders.

  Many of the first responders at the scene of the abandoned warehouse were able to assist, including Tucson Police and local FBI units. Pima County Sheriff’s officers joined them, all racing up toward Reddington Pass. The land of the famous. And maybe the infamous.

  “We’re at the gate and it’s iron and closed,” an officer declared.

  Shirley answered. “We’re almost there. Ram through it. Ram through it. I’ll buy you two more vehicles. Go!”

  Moments later. “We fucking destroyed our vehicle. We’re on the property, but we have another problem. It’s like a fortress at the doorfront.”

  “Break down that damn fortress and get inside,” Shirley screamed. “Remember. Likely armed and dangerous with a hostage.”

  “We’re in.”

  “Break the door down.”

  “We’ve broken down a fifteen-thousand-dollar driveway gate and now a bunch more on this outer facade. Do you have a warrant, Ma’am?”

  “The name is Special Agent Falls, and you do as I say. Get into that home.”

  THE EMERGENCY VEHICLES rushed in like a funeral procession on the Indy racetrack. Perfect order and fast.

  “Nothing, Agent Falls, but there’s a vehicle in the garage I think you might want to see.”

  Shirley stormed toward it.

  “I think we had an APB out on this. Black SUV, passenger side damage. And almost a two-tone. Special paint job.”

  “You got it. Good work. Now, what about the outbuildings? Land?”

  “Our guys just scoured the guest house. Someone lived there. Recently. No trace of a person. We’re down at the stables now.”

  Shirley sat behind the wheel of an empty cruiser and drove down to the massive stables.

  “They were here, Ms. –ummm, Special Agent Falls. We see signs of recent activity. Fresh food and drinks,” an officer reported.

  Shirley stormed through the stables. She saw the damn food and the settings for two. Remains. A meal had taken there. She saw the fancy sound system dropped in the center of the breezeway. And she saw the paintings. She knew. Gage’s paintings.

  They scoured the expansive property for another hour, all the while Shirley calling in for more help on anything about this Marcus Armstrong, the warehouse Zoey had survived in, and any link to any connection with a Sacrum with some strange lodging—a boat, of all things, out in the southern desert.

  “We have a report of something odd, Shirley,” Eli said.

  “Give it to me,” Shirley said.

  “Came in from a dispatcher.”

  Shirley scratched her throat as she reached for her bottled water.

  “You ready for this?”

  “I’m ready. I’m calm. I’m listening.”

  Junior said, “You know the story of the millionaire, Forrest Fenn?”
r />   “Kind of, but speed it up,” Shirley said.

  “He’s in New Mexico. Supposedly he has a treasure chest of over a million-dollars-worth of gold coins, Pre-Columbian figurines, carved Jade, emeralds, and rubies.”

  “This is not speeding it up, Junior. Tell me!”

  “We have a copycat Forrest Fenn reporting to have buried his own treasure chest somewhere near Rio Rico. He gives out clues, online, just like that Fenn guy. And we have a hyperventilating treasure hunter that claims he first smelled the most god almighty smell, and then saw some sort of boat out there in the middle of the desert covered in tumbleweeds and branches. He ran to his car and called it in as soon as he had cell phone service.”

  “You gotta find this man. Hold him. He can take us back to the area. You’re doing good, Junior, but just friggin’ keep doing it. You got this? It’s all on you right now. Can you do it?”

  “I already have the man here at the station.”

  “Too far away. I’m already heading south. Get the facts. Where’s Taylor?”

  “He was in the ICU wing at the hospital with Zoey. She’ll pull out of it, he says. And he’s following some lead on an old can of dog food.”

  Shirley almost smiled as she drove like a maniac down I-19 toward the far desert surrounding Rio Rico, Arizona. Her ankle? What ankle. She was flying on the highway that would lead her toward her daughter and evil. Taylor was good to take care of the dog food. Exceptional dog food, she surmised.

  Chapter 79

  The Desert

  I WAS IN A PLACE, a small place. I felt woozy. No. I felt tired. Beyond tired. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even open my eyes.

  The air was so foul. Rancid. Death. To breathe was to gag. I was better off drifting back to sleep.

  My father came to me again in a dream. He threw his arms around me and held me and he told me all would be fine. He told me he loved my mother and regretted his past. I think he also told me that he did need sex and mom was out of the question. I almost remember nodding to that bold statement, if even in a dream. He told me Zoey was going to be fine. He told me he loved Gage. He told me he was waiting for his grandchildren and that there would be three. A fog. All a dream while I escaped my surroundings.

  I deduced I was better off living within my dreams than living on earth.

  SHIRLEY PULLED OFF ON a section of highway with three cars awaiting her arrival. Again she stated, “Armed and dangerous.”

  “We still don’t know exactly where we’re going, Shirley,” one officer said.

  “I’ll sniff that asshole out,” she said. “There won’t be a road, but there will be tire tracks. Follow my lead. Meantime, where are the damn dogs?”

  “On their way, but they’re not close. They’re just off another tour of duty in east Tucson.”

  I’ll keep sniffing, Shirley thought.

  They traversed what they deemed to be the right section of road five times. Shirley, her jaw set and constant piercing eye contact on the vehicles driving back-and-forth with her, forced her inner being to emerge. That inner space allowed her to be who she was. A strong, smart, dedicated FBI special agent that happened to be a lesbian. She loved that space. It what make things right.

  Where are you, Sterling. Mother’s here. I love you. I’m here for you. Tell me where you are.

  The radio squawked. “We don’t have enough to go on, Shirley.”

  “Give me a minute,” she said. “Don’t you dare pull back.”

  She called Junior. “This treasure hunter was operating off a map, or coordinates. Clues. Some damn thing. Get us there!”

  Three long minutes later, Junior put the treasure hunter on the phone. There would be only a small clearing off the road on the right. About ten-feet ahead, and high in the sky, a dead tree pointed the way with its darkened outreached limb.

  He continued, “About two miles in, you’ll see what looks like the biggest damn packrat nest you’ve ever seen. Apparently it’s the boat that’s been covered with tumble-weeds and branches, but you’ll see a glimpse of the boat from the west side.”

  Shirley and her team crept up the road, as painful as it was to proceed so slowly. Slow for her heart and too fast for her ankle. All had their eyes upward rather than on an empty road.

  “This is it,” she screamed, spotting both the craggy tree branch and a fresh path of tire tread marks. “Follow me. No sirens. No lights. That includes headlights.”

  They parked their vehicles, now five of them, a good forty feet before what they determined to be that giant packrat nest with a visible hull, a door, and the outline of a boat’s starboard side, if there was any boat left. Before Shirley could kill her engine her cell phone rang.

  “I should be with you, damn it,” Taylor said.

  “Bullshit, Steve,” Shirley replied. “You found Romero. You saved Zoey’s life. Our mutual-case theory seems to be dead-on, but you need to stay with The Z. And stay on that dog-food theory of yours. Besides, I’m already going to get my ass whipped for all the manpower I’ve pulled in on this one. And a few damaged cars and citizen’s property.”

  “Bullshit back to you,” Steve Taylor said.

  “Right now I’m you’re lead dog. That might change someday. Meanwhile let me go get this diablo. Gotta go.”

  Shirley lamented over what no professional watching her back could guess might be impeding her judgment. I need to save my daughter.

  Chapter 80

  The Sarah

  THE TEAM APPROACHED THE concealed structure and dispatched into groups of three. All sides; although that became futile when the other officers found the entire sides and back of this so-called boat almost submerged in the earth and covered in thick brush. There would be no escape on all three sides. They moved toward the front to join their fellow officers and agents.

  An FBI agent scrambled to the ground next to Shirley. “I’ve found a car hidden on the east side. The engine is still warm.”

  He described the vehicle. Shirley knew it was her daughter’s.

  If they had all been quiet, which they had been, none could contain themselves from gagging under the putrid fumes that emanated from the boat. The gasses of certain death.

  Shirley focused on the facts. It would not be her Sterling. That disgusting odor of decay didn’t come for several days. Maybe less in the desert heat, but her daughter had only been kidnapped for an hour or so. She moved onward, pulling her shirt up to cover her mouth and nose to ward off the stench. The team pushed forward with her, weapons drawn.

  Her damn cell phone rang to the tune of a Jimmy Buffet hit. All officers on her front line turned to glare at her.

  She couldn’t fathom not silencing her phone. Another stupid error. Too much of family that matters and too many mistakes. It didn’t matter because too much was not a mistake and at stake. At best, there would be demerits of grand proportion back at Quantico, but she didn’t give a damn.

  “It’s me, Gage. Please don’t tell me to sit still any longer. The phones haven’t rung. No emails. No texts.”

  “We’ve found her, Gage. Sit still longer,” Shirley whispered. “Don’t call me back.”

  Shirley silenced her phone and made the single nod.

  A swift response came from the sergeant that had taken his men’s lead, “Marcus Armstrong. This is the police and the FBI. You are surrounded. Come out with your hands above your head.”

  Nothing. And that was his only warning Shirley would agree to. She gave one more nod and the steel door on the flimsy frame gave way with one strong kick.

  Storming in as one united force of justice, they found Sterling on the floor, cradled in the arms of Marcus Armstrong. They also found a decaying body on a makeshift gurney, IVs and bags and monitors still attached.

  Armstrong’s stormy eyes pierced through Shirley’s gaze of shock and disbelief.

  “Mrs. Falls, you have a lovely daughter,” he said.

  “Sterling! Sterling!” Shirley screamed.

  She wasn’t sleeping. Had
she been drugged? Was she dead? Her body remained lifeless.

  Shirley moved her attention to the man beside her daughter. “Am I speaking to Marcus or Sacrum?” she asked.

  The man laughed. “Take your pick. We’re one and the same and inseparable these days. Basically, I’m the banality of evil.”

  Shirley knew that her backup forces remained clueless. She had to handle this one, knowing they had their guns trained on the man, whoever he was.

  Seeing her beautiful daughter folded up in the strong arms of this monster, Shirley said, “I choose Dr. Marcus Armstrong. I’ve met him. I think I like him.”

  “Then you can see that Sterling’s here safe with me. We’re enjoying some quiet down time.”

  “That’s good, Marcus, but look at it from our perspective, if you will. There’s a decomposing body on a table not three-feet away from you.”

  “I don’t think your beloved here beside me, my beloved, can see him right now. I’ll take care of it.”

  Shirley persisted, now with a melodic southern voice she had learned along her way in training for undercover ops, knowing maybe a little bit of Nashville would resonate with the man. A little bit of home-style, if this monster had indeed not been born under the proverbial rock.

  “Marcus, we all need to move outside now. The fumes in here are dangerous for all of us. My friend can help you with—”

  “With what, Shirley? With your daughter? How freaking odd is that one? A lesbian looser here to reclaim her child at the one time in that child’s life she can find her true happiness. Your daughter and I have married.”

  Armstrong held up Sterling’s left hand. It was hard to miss the rock on her finger.

  “We’ve had too much celebratory drink. That’s all. Oh, and I think she may be carrying your grandchild, so she’ll have to quit drinking alcohol. I’ll see to all of that.”