Kill Game: An Unforgettable Serial Killer Thriller

by Adam Nicholls

  “I remember it all, Bella. Every time we played. I remember your noises, your smell, the feel of you.” He breathed in through his nose in an exaggerated manner, as if he were deciding on the vintage of a wine. “I loved you the first moment I saw you.”

  “You’re a pedophile. A psychopath. You are incapable of love.”

  He frowned and brought his injured arm up so he could rest his hand on his chest. “Tell that to my heart.”

  “I hate you.”

  Salem whooped with laughter. The volume made Bella jump as if he’d struck her. His face was shining, elated. She’d given him something she shouldn’t have. He’d won whatever sick part of the game he was playing. “That’s a close cousin to love, at least. That’s something. Just give it some time and I’ll turn you around.”

  “Some time?” Bella scanned the table again for a weapon. She was still acutely aware of the rolling pin to her right, but there was no way she’d be quick enough to grab it without being shot. “Some time for what? I’m a woman now, you sick asshole. You killed the little girl you fell in love with as soon as you threw me in that cellar. You think I’m not going to get older every year that passes? You like them young, don’t you? Your little ducklings?”

  “I do,” Salem admitted. “I do like them young, but in all fairness, that was a long time ago. I’m a changed man, I guess. Not a single child in all that time At least nothing sexual. No cellars, no games. Just easy kills.” He held up his hand like he was confessing, the gun finally not focused on her head. If only she had something. Anything.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Scout’s honor. You want to know what I’ve been doing that whole time? You want to know how deep my love for you goes?”

  “No.” The night outside had grown impossibly dark. Glancing out the window, she could see the two of them reflected in the filthy glass, looking for all the world like a normal couple gathered around the kitchen table. She squinted into the dark, trying to make out where Ross’s property connected to a county road.

  “Over twenty years I’ve been looking for you. The first time I saw your face in the newspaper, Little Miss Hotshot Detective, I felt like my heart burst—exploded right in my chest. You were just as beautiful, just as tough. It pissed me off, you know. Pissed me off that you’d carried on like nothing had ever happened between us. I was the one waiting up all night, thinking maybe I’d hear your precious little feet on my floorboards. I thought you’d come back.” Salem was off on a tangent. He waved the gun as he spoke, the sincerity of what he was saying so nauseating that Bella’s throat ached with the urge to be sick.

  Beneath his pathetic monologue, however, she thought she could hear something, droning in the background like a trapped wasp. Her entire body stiffened, and she glanced back at the window.

  Salem’s reflection stared back at her in the glass. He’d heard it, too. His words dropped, interrupted, to become more trash to add to the table between them.

  Bella watched his eyes grow dark and narrow.

  Bright red-and-blue lights swarmed down the road. The sirens of the approaching cars whined louder and louder as they turned off the country road and toward Salem’s driveway.

  Before she could speak, Salem was out of his chair and at her side. He pulled his injured hand from his sling and shoved it into her hair, winding her ponytail around his wrist like a leash. He pulled her to her feet, her entire scalp screaming as he yanked. She felt his lips on one ear and the muzzle of his gun in the other.

  “Here comes the cavalry,” he hissed. “I had a feeling you weren’t going to be alone.” The chuckle that came out of him was arid. He pushed her toward the back door, his rangy body pressed against hers. This close to her, she could smell the mineral stink of his soiled body. He was electric with excitement, directing her through the trash and decade-old bloodstains toward the door.

  His breath unsteady in her ear, he kicked the door open, activating the motion sensor light on the steps. An old car was waiting at the base, as rusty and filthy as the rest of the place. Bella began to struggle, pulling against his grip despite the flames of pain that spread over her scalp like wildfire. She wasn’t going anywhere with him. She’d rather die in this place than spend another second with Salem Ross.

  Salem was about to push her down the stairs when he stopped suddenly. The sirens were louder now and increasing every second. From the sounds of it, Bella guessed there would be at least ten of them ready to turn the corner into the driveway. He’d kill them all, whether she was there or not, and she’d rather die with her officers than survive whatever Salem had planned.

  He spun her around. Despite her efforts, she howled at the pain. Salem smiled. Dragging her now, he moved in the opposite direction to where the door to the cellar was nestled beneath the staircase. “You know, I planned on the two of us being out of range when I finally set off my little bomb, but I’m starting to change my mind. You’re starting to change my mind.”

  Wild-eyed, Bella heard the door of the cellar open. She knew that sound. It’d followed her in dreams, yelled at her like an alarm upon waking, screamed at her when she was drunk, when she was tired. He was going to take her back down there.

  She allowed herself to scream again, kicking her legs out and making purchase with nothing. All she succeeded in doing was lobbing more of Salem’s garbage across the room. Salem grunted as she dropped to her knees, writhing against his grip.

  The sirens were deafening. Standing at the top of the stairs, he spun Bella’s body around until she was a howling huddle. “You’re right. You’re a woman now.” He looked down at her, her ponytail so tight in his hand that her face was forced up to him. He crouched, his long, sticky tongue jutting out and running a long line from the pounding pulse in her neck to her temples. “But I didn’t kill the little girl down here all those years ago, like you said. I will now though. I’ll kill us all.”

  Bella felt Salem’s bare foot dig into her ribs as if lining up a shot. She heard him hold his breath, and then he kicked with all of his strength. There was a cracking noise and pain so deep it eclipsed the throbbing in her skull. She felt herself fall downward, shoulder, hip, and head hitting each of the stairs she’d studied so hard so many years ago and was once more tortured by the pain of her awful memories.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Brooks was out of the car before it even had time to stop. He practically vaulted from it, his body compelled to keep moving although he wasn’t sure where. He surveyed the yard, the steel trap of his mind taking in the property and the shambles of a house before him. From what the satellite map he’d been obsessing over had shown him, the entire rear of the property was an overgrown field of what might have been corn at some point. There was only one way in and out. He knew they were walking into a trap as sure as he knew the sun would come up the next morning. Whether any of them would be alive to see it was another story.

  “Bomb squad is parked and awaiting orders,” Kyle said. He’d followed his captain’s example and tumbled out of the car himself. He was at his shoulder, searching his boss’s face for some sort of instruction.

  “I’m going to need them at the house.” Brooks looked back over his shoulder to where the armada of cars and trucks blinked in a pile. “If there’s a bomb anywhere, it’s going to be beneath us. Get the boys to back off. We’re going to need the space.”

  “What about me?” Kyle’s face was white. He was chewing his lips, shifting his weight back and forth, his eyes focused on the house like a dog awaiting orders to fetch. Bella was in there. His Bella. Brooks understood that desperate look well enough. “Where do you want me?”

  “We need officers at all entrances and exits. I want this place surrounded. No one gets out of that house, you hear me?”

  Kyle nodded. Brooks waited for him to jump into action, to go spread his commands around the pack of officers that stood like an army of shadows in the dark. He didn’t move.

  “Detective Gray,” Brooks prompted
.

  “She’s in there,” Kyle muttered. He looked at Brooks, the flashing lights reflecting off his pupils. “What about me? Give me something to do. Parroting your damn orders isn’t enough.”

  In spite of the unwarranted tone, Brooks laid a large hand on the detective’s shoulder. “I’ve got something for you to do, kid, and it’ll be more than enough. You’re just going to have to keep your cool and trust me.”

  He had her back on the mattress again. How that damn thing was still there she didn’t understand. There wasn’t much she understood at this point.

  Salem had followed her into the cellar, not even waiting a second for her to assess the damage kicking her down the stairs had caused. She’d wavered in and out of consciousness, her mouth filled with the familiar taste of dust and blood. She knew every smell down here, every corner of this prison.

  Grabbing her hair again, he yanked her to her feet with a force that reminded her of her size. Despite her rigorous training, all it took was one furious pull and she was nothing more than a doll again. Her vision had cleared long enough to see the pile of filthy linen on the mattress he was pushing her toward. She’d tried to dig her feet in, but the soles of her stupid sneakers slipped along the smooth concrete. Before she knew it, she was face-first in the faded tartan of the air mattress.

  “Old home week,” Salem said. “I kept it all. I made a little shrine and everything. Take a look.” His hand was at her skull again, and he forced her head to the brick wall the mattress lay against. Bella blinked, trying to focus through the pain that radiated from every corner of her body and mind.

  The wall she’d counted the days on was now covered with photos and clippings of her. Her own face stared back at her, calm and composed at media events or behind the captain as he made a public service announcement somewhere. She felt tears welling up. He’d been keeping her here this whole time. He’d kept the ghost of her, trapped forever in awkward photographs, suspended above the filthy place where he’d taken everything good out of her world.

  Don’t cry. He’s never seen you cry—don’t start now.

  “You photograph better than you look in real life, you know. Imagination never matches the real thing. You’re just going downhill now, I guess. I probably wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t said anything. Funny how that works. You can go for years obsessing about someone, but once they’re really here it can be a bit of a letdown.”

  Bella gazed up at him, struggling to get to her feet and off the mattress. The smell of it made her skin crawl like she’d been stuffed with the spiders that’d kept her company years ago.

  Sirens surrounded the house, leaking in from the cracks in the foundation and broken windows. Salem’s face was a funhouse of kaleidoscope colors as he gazed down at her, examining her with cold eyes. Fresh blood turning his bandages almost entirely red. He seemed to have forgotten about the pain in his excitement.

  He used his bleeding arm to pull the homemade remote from his pocket, his gun still aimed at her where she lay. “I say we go out together. One click of this button and this entire tired story comes to an end. What do you think?”

  There was thumping and shouting now. She heard the captain barking orders outside, and what seemed like millions of pairs of shoes were roaring through the broken floorboards above them.

  Salem crouched down beside her. He dropped his gun and pushed the rough corner of his detonation device against her temple, brushing the hair from her face where it’d fallen loose. “What do you say, duckling? Game over?”

  There was a sudden bang at the top of the stairs. It caused Salem to jump. Moving with frightening speed, he spun, hauling Bella off the mattress and back against his body. The smell coming off his arm where it wrapped around her neck made her gag. She could feel his heart racing through his shirt as he dragged her toward the stairs.

  Another bang, as someone on the other side threw themselves against the lock.

  Salem was vibrating, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he positioned the two of them in front of the door.

  The iron door swung open, a cloud of dust exploding from the tired wood as the doorframe buckled under a final, determined kick.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  It took until he actually spoke for Bella to realize it wasn’t her father. She was clinging to what was left of her rational mind as best she could, but every moment that passed she could feel it slipping further away. She could’ve sworn it was him, with his cheap suit wrinkled at the hem. She blinked, trying to clear her vision, still spinning from the combination of her fall down the stairs and the surreal wallpaper of her face behind her.

  “Salem Ross? I’m going to need you to do us all a favor here, okay?”

  It was Kyle. Her gasp was strangled by Salem’s arm where it crushed into her windpipe. She could see him clearly now, descending the stairs slowly with a gun aimed in one hand and the other out like he was approaching skittish horses.

  “I don’t see how you’re in a position to ask me to do much of anything for you guys.”

  Kyle nodded, his face so neutral it was alarming. His every movement was casual, as if he were just stepping down into someone’s rec room to ask if anyone wanted a drink. He even stopped in the middle of the stairs, surveying the cellar. “So, this is it?” He sighed, his gun steady and trained right at Salem’s head. “The infamous cellar.”

  “I wouldn’t be so la-de-da if I were you.”

  Bella detected a flush of heat in Salem’s body. Kyle was annoying him. His Southern-boy charm was an unwelcome addition to the end of his game. He wanted fear. He had all the lights spinning and all the officers yelling, but here was pretty-boy Detective Gray, standing in front of him with so little concern he might as well be using a urinal. Salem held up the remote, wiggling it toward him. “One little press of the button and all your friends out there are gone. Boom. All you got to do is piss me off enough, boy. Give me a reason to press it.”

  Kyle shrugged. Still holding his gun steady, he took another few steps. His gray eyes, just as constant as his aim, locked Salem in place. “Well, you see, that’s kind of why I wanted to ask you a favor.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “If you go ahead and let Detective Cruz go and slide your Radio Shack remote over, I think I’ve convinced the captain to go easy on you.”

  “Jesus, you think I need a break? I’m having the time of my life, kid. I’ve got my best girl here. Well, she was my best girl.” He tightened his hold on her neck. Bella felt a squish as the wound under his soaking bandages leaked onto her cheek. “We were just remarking how sometimes what you want and what you eventually get can be a disappointment.”

  “What do you mean?” Still casual, still calm, Kyle reached the bottom step. Bella was close enough now to see into his eyes. He met hers briefly and then looked away, focusing all his attention on Salem. He was trying to keep him busy—cajole the madman and buy time for whatever Brooks was doing outside. That much was clear. “You’ve had plenty of girls before, haven’t you? We’ve been doing a little research, looking up all the other little ones you played with. From what we were able to put together, it looks like you’ve been busy since you were a kid. Not after Bella though. Did she make you lose your taste for it?”

  Salem grunted and edged back but said nothing.

  Kyle nodded at Bella. He was only a few feet away from them now, his face dissected from the red-and-blue light that still sliced through the slats on the window. “You stayed low. That was good work. How long was it?”

  “Over twenty years I waited for this one,” Salem said, licking his lips.

  “Well, trust me—” A new smile crossed Kyle’s face. “—she’s worth the wait.”

  There was a blast of static from Kyle’s shoulder.

  “Bomb defused, repeat. Bomb defused.”

  Bella’s eyes tightened as Kyle’s arm swung across her body, making direct contact where Salem’s face hovered over hers. There was a wet thud. She felt Salem’
s grip slacken. Despite her intense drive to move, she felt her knees give out instead, and she fell to the floor.

  Gravelly roars erupted from Salem. He held his dripping face in his hands, dropping the detonation device. It shattered into the hundreds of disparate parts it’d been assembled from. Kyle was at Salem’s side then, reaching into the back of his belt for his cuffs.

  Bella tried to shout at him. It was a rookie mistake. She knew Salem enough to know that one hit to the jaw wasn’t going to take him down. ‘Kyle—” she managed.

  But it was too late.

  Salem waited to leap until Kyle’s gun was off him and he was opening the cuffs. His teeth bared and coated in blood, he launched himself on her partner. Bella heard the sick whoof of the air leaving Kyle’s lungs as Salem knocked him against the wall. She watched as his gun skidded across the floor, a few feet from where she was lying.

  Her head was still spinning, her nose stuffed with the smell of the rotted mattress filled with her own fossilized pain. She knew what she had to do. She knew she could stop this, but it was as if the part of her brain that controlled her body had shut down.

  She was tired. So tired. Some stupid animal part of her was telling her to sleep. That’s all she needed. She’d close her eyes to drift off, her soul rising up and out of this awful place like it used to do. She’d been so good at that: separating her body from her mind. She could do it now. She’d hadn’t done it in over twenty years. It couldn’t be hard to remember how.

  Her eyes were beginning to roll back into her head when she heard Kyle shouting. His voice, so calm when he’d first stepped into the room, was reedy with fear.

  Salem.

  Bella took a deep inhale and commanded her vision to clear. Across the cellar she could see the beast of limbs the two men were making. Salem was on top of Kyle, his long back arched and his legs akimbo like a lion devouring its fallen prey. His breath was wet and grunting as he raised his arms to strike, his fists filling the room with crunches and slaps.