Tasting Fear

by Shannon McKenna

  “It’s horrible.” Rafael’s voice rose in pitch. “The prick deserved it, if anyone ever could, but even so, it gives me the shudders that I was actually talking to him just hours before it happened, and he just—”

  “What happened to him?” Jack bellowed.

  “He…well, his assistant found him this morning. Impaled on the spikes of a big Waylan Winthrop bronze sculpture, like a hot dog on a stick. They say the sculpture was completely drenched with blood. Wilder’s assistant is in the hospital, having a total breakdown.”

  Jack’s body was electrified with fear. Thrumming with the excess voltage. “And Vivi won’t answer her cell?”

  “I’ve been calling for over an hour. As soon as I found out.”

  Jack ran it through his head. “Did you tell Wilder where Viv was?”

  “I did mention that I saw her at a concert in Pebble River night before last,” Rafael faltered. “And…but why should that…” His voice choked off for a moment. He gasped. “Oh, my God,” he whispered. “Oh, my sweet God. What the fuck is going on?”

  “Are you at home now?” Jack demanded.

  “No, actually. I left this morning to meet a friend up in East Hampton. Why?”

  “Don’t go home,” Jack said. “Under any circumstances.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” Rafael moaned. “What have I done? What in holy hell is she mixed up in?”

  “It’s bad,” Jack said. “But it’s not her fault. And you’re mixed up in it, too, so watch yourself. I have to go.”

  “But I…but no! Wait! Tell me what this is all—”

  “I have to go find Viv. If they knew where she was late last night, they could be here by now. Or they could call someone in the area. Call this number.” He rattled off Duncan’s cell to the other man. “That’s Viv’s future brother-in-law. He knows everything. He’ll tell you what to do. Do not go home. You got that straight?”

  “Got it,” Rafael echoed faintly.

  “Good.” Jack hung up on him and dialed Vivi’s cell from his landline. The recording told him it was turned off or out of area.

  The stench of burning rubber assailed his nose as he sprinted through the room. The coffee had all boiled away, and the heat had melted the rubber ring while he was on the phone.

  He flipped off the gas, on the fly, and bolted toward his gun safe.

  Vivi locked up her shop and headed toward her van. She’d finished painting the place, finally, and she was a rumpled, snarled, ivory-spattered mess. She caught sight of herself in the mirror as she started up the ignition, and winced. Yikes. Eyes red and puffy, face paper white, mouth blurry-looking. But who cared how she looked?

  She pointed the van in the direction of Evergreen Acres. She’d asked around yesterday, and that was the one place she could afford that would accept her dog. It also bordered on a creek and had a little forested area nearby for Edna to run and catch sticks and do her doggie business. The downside was, it was a pathetic dump. It was clear that the creek had overflowed its bounds and flooded the rental units more than once. The number of discolored waterlines and the rotting carpet were her clues. And the overwhelming stench of mold, of course.

  The cinder-block cube they’d assigned to her was the last in the row. Tiny and cramped, and it stank of cigarettes, damp, and, faintly, of urine. The ceiling was so splotchy, it looked like it would fall down right on top of her. The curtains were full of cigarette holes.

  She pulled into the Acres, parked her van next to her wretched little abode, and stared at it, dispirited. Back to roughing it. Making do.

  Well, then. Chin up. Feeling sorry for herself would not help. She’d learned that lesson so many times, in so many ways in her life, it still amazed her when the “poor-little-me’s” took her by storm.

  She let Edna out of the van, and they headed down to the creek, so Edna could stretch her legs. After that, she would clean up, change, organize her stuff, and get motivated for some tight-assed, one-dollar-a-day grocery shopping. Not that she had any appetite, but still. Starving herself would not help matters. She had to be a grown-up.

  She flung the stick for Edna until her arm felt like it was about to fall off, and decided to stop procrastinating. She walked back to the cabin. Staring at the flimsy door with the knob lock that a credit card could swipe open in one pass. At the single-paned windows with the warped, swollen wood sills that she was not able to wrench closed.

  She hadn’t known how safe Jack’s infrared alarm and his tough, stalwart presence at her side had made her feel until now. She’d been so relaxed, soft and open inside, for weeks. Now that it was taken away, she felt like a snail with no shell. With fear her constant backdrop.

  She shoved the key into the lock. Edna stopped at the threshhold and shrank back, whining, but Vivi was trying so hard to be tough and grown up, and not cringe at the stinky little room, she didn’t register the dog’s gesture until she’d stepped in, flipped on the light—

  And found the two men lurking in the dark on either side of the door. Their pistols pointed straight at her.

  Jack drove by the highway interchange for the third time, scoping out the parking lots of the budget hotels clustered there, scanning for her van. Her shop was locked up, at four p.m. Usually, she stayed there working until dark or later.

  He could hardly breathe, he was so fucking scared. And furious at himself. So wound up in his self-pitying bullshit, he’d lost sight of the danger. He should have known a guy like Rafael would spew Vivi’s location to the four winds. He should have taken steps, been thinking clearly. About her. Not himself. Dick-brained asshole.

  He pointed his truck back up the hill to Pebble River Heights, where the commercial district and Vivi’s shop were located, hoping this was just a paranoid freak-out. But the image of Wilder spitted like a hot dog on a stick jangled his nerves. Could be the fuckhead had other enemies, of course. But an enemy like that was rare and special.

  He jerked the truck to a stop in front of her store, deciding to make the rounds of all the shops. He got lucky on his eighth stop, at the Bakitchen lunch counter. Myra, the proprietor, gave him a smile.

  “Hi, Jack. Coffee?”

  “Not now. Quick question, Myra. Do you know where Vivi D’Onofrio is staying?”

  “Thought she was staying with you, honey. Had a fight?”

  Jack clenched his jaw. The older woman crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, she was in here yesterday morning,” Myra conceded. “Asking about an inexpensive place that would let her keep her dog. The only thing I could think of off the top of my head was Evergreen Acres, but it’s such a dive. It should be condemned. Hope she didn’t go there.”

  He tensed. Evergreen Acres? He hadn’t even checked there, it was so unthinkable to him that Vivi be in a place like that. The Acres was an end-of-the-line place, frequented by bums, drunks, addicts, down-and-outs, prostitutes and their clients. Visited often by police cars in the middle of the night. Jesus. Of all places.

  “Love problems. That would explain why she looked like she was coming down with the flu,” Myra said knowingly. “Come to think of it, you don’t look so hot yourself. Hope you work it out.”

  He barely heard her words. “Later, Myra.” He turned for the door.

  “Nice girl, Vivi. Sweet little shop she’s got. Sure is popular today. You’re the second one come in asking for her in the last two hours.”

  He spun on his heels. “Who? Who was looking for her?”

  Myra smiled, archly. “A man. Not surprising. She’s a hottie. If you’re not careful, some other guy’s going to snatch her right up and—”

  “What guy?!” he bellowed. “What does he look like?”

  Myra looked affronted. “Do not yell at me, Jack Kendrick!”

  His teeth ground. “Sorry. Please. It’s important.”

  Myra grunted. “Well, he was no good-looker, I’ll tell you that much,” she said. “Big, heavy guy with squinchy little eyes. He said he’d heard she was opening a shop, and would I tell him where
it was.”

  “And did you?”

  “Of course I told him! She can’t afford to lose any business. She’s just starting out.”

  Panic swept up, threatening to engulf him. “Myra, do something for me.” He struggled to control the shake in his voice. “Call the cops. Send them down to Evergreen Acres.” He bolted out the door.

  “But why?” Myra shouted after him. “What do I tell them?”

  He leaped into the truck, started the engine. “Whatever the fuck you want!” he yelled back. “Just tell them quick!”

  His truck surged forward with a roar. The urgency inside him was building so fast, he felt like his chest was going to explode.

  Vivi felt strangely calm. Numb, even.

  Finally, the other shoe had dropped. There was a sense of colossal inevitability to it all. Like continental drift, this moment had been coming her way all her life. All the anxious scrambling and scurrying in the world could not have stopped it.

  “I was wondering when you two gentlemen were going to pay me a visit,” she said. “I was starting to feel left out.”

  She was proud of how her voice did not shake. Not yet, at least.

  Edna was growling, fangs bared, head down. What a strange spectacle. Vivi had never seen her bouncy retriever in defensive mode.

  “Take the animal. Put it in the bathroom,” said the old guy with the accent. Ulf Haupt, she presumed. Just as Nell had described him.

  She hesitated, and the other, younger guy pointed his gun at Edna. “Now,” he snarled. “Or I shoot it.”

  That broke Vivi’s paralysis. She gripped Edna’s collar and dragged the growling, barking dog toward the tiny bathroom in the corner.

  She closed the door. Edna whined and pawed at the door.

  “Come back to the center of the room,” Haupt ordered.

  Vivi did as she was told. “How did you find me?” she asked.

  “With difficulty. But we prevailed at last.” John gave her a wide, manic grin. “We found the shop through your old boyfriend, Wilder.”

  “Brian?” She was astonished. “But how did Brian—”

  “Your friend, Siebling,” John taunted. “He went to Wilder’s gallery. Told him all about this big, randy stud who’s been servicing you. That you were all pink and juicy, getting it left, right, and sideways ten times a day, huh? Filthy slut. Dirty little cocksucking whore—”

  “Enough!” Haupt’s voice was shrill. “Do not get distracted. Please excuse him, my dear. John is a bit single-minded when he gets worked up. I have to constantly remind him, work before play, no? Vivien, your cell phone is in your purse? Give it to John.”

  She picked up her purse from where it had fallen and passed it over. She’d turned the thing off the previous day, not wanting to deal with any calls from her sisters. She was too raw to face even them.

  John cracked open the shell and ripped the various components apart. He dropped the pieces, and crushed them beneath his boot heel.

  “Rafael?” she whispered. “You hurt Rafael?”

  “We have someone on it,” John told her. “We’ve hired an army for the endgame. Men are waiting in his condo. I can arrange for them to film the event. Popcorn, beer, arterial gouts, and detached body parts.”

  She fought a wave of faintness.

  “Wilder’s dead, too” he went on. “You should’ve seen him when I was through. A work of art, quite literally. I took pictures. Want to see?”

  John held out the cell. She flinched away in revulsion.

  “Focus, John,” Haupt reminded him sternly. The old man stumped heavily over to her, his watery, pink-rimmed eyes shiny with mad cheerfulness. “I think she’s my favorite of the sisters.”

  “Her tits are too small, but other than that, yeah.” John licked his lips, his eyes hot. “I like the ones who spit and squirm.”

  “I am seldom tempted at my age,” the shambling old horror whispered. He lifted the silenced barrel of his pistol, petted Vivi’s cheek with it. “But you inspire me. Perhaps I will indulge, as well. In my own special way.” He used the silencer to tug down the neckline of Vivi’s shirt, revealing the tattoo. “How pretty,” he commented. “A buttercup.”

  “No, actually.” She cleared her throat. “It’s Eranthis hyemalis.”

  The gun jabbed her breastbone. “Are you contradicting me?”

  Fear was poking through the numbness, big-time. “Um, no.”

  He petted the flower tattoo with the gun. “I’ve heard you have tattoos. My father kept a collection of tattoos. He gathered them during the war. I inherited his secret album when he died. There must be fifteen, twenty. Papa did love his trophies, but he had so few people to share them with. People are squeamish, you see. But not me. I treasure it.” He chuckled. “Perhaps I’ll follow Papa’s example. Take your tattoos for mementos. I can start my own album. Never too late, hmm?”

  Vivi was shuddering violently. “What do you want from me?”

  Haupt sighed. “The usual, my dear. For you to tell me something I don’t know about the Conte deLuca’s hidden treasure.”

  Vivi bit her lip, squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh, shit,” she whispered.

  “I understand. You’re as ignorant as your sisters. But the Contessa’s letter suggests that the three of you together have a chance. If Lucia deLuca was convinced of this, then I continue to be optimistic.”

  “You’ll never get my sisters,” she said, with quiet conviction.

  “No? I’m already planning the hits on your inconvenient future brothers-in-law. As soon as they’re out of the way, we’ll have no problem with your sisters. Particularly after we send them the DVD of John having his naughty fun with you. That will flush them out.” He leaned closer, so she could not avoid his sour smell, and pushed her chin up with the gun. He twisted his hand around her pendant until the chain snapped, and stared at it intently. “Just like the other two. Worthless bauble.”

  He opened a briefcase and flung it inside. Vivi saw the gleam of gold, a snarl of chains. Nell’s and Nancy’s necklaces were there, too.

  Haupt jerked her chin back up. “Last chance, Vivien. Do you wish to spare yourself pain and disfigurement? We can be reasonable.”

  “Of course,” she choked out.

  “So tell me something interesting. Make our lives easier.” His tone was coaxing, as if she were being tiresome, refusing to cooperate.

  Tears of frustration leaked from her eyes. “I don’t know anything,” she said bleakly. “Believe me. I would tell you if I did.”

  Haupt let out a sharp, annoyed sigh. “Well, John, your dream has come true. We have to play out the whole noisy drama here and now. Set up the video. Aim it at the bed. You brought in the tripod?”

  John set up the scene as Haupt held the gun and barked orders. The barrel was against her jugular. She felt the quick throb of her heart against the pressure of the metal. Beating stubbornly on. For a little longer, at least.

  “How will you get all of us together if you kill me?” she asked.

  “We won’t kill you. Not yet. John promised he will be careful. He’s a specialist, you see. He can inflict excruciating pain without causing mortal injury, particularly if the subject is healthy and strong willed. As I can see that you are.” He chortled, and chucked her under the chin with the gun. “You may not be that pretty by the time your sisters join you, but never fear. You’ll be able to contribute to the brainstorming.”

  “Another thing,” John said, fiddling with the camera. “This guy you’re fucking. I don’t want surprises. Who is he? And where is he?”

  Vivi swallowed hard. “He’s no one. And nowhere.”

  John applauded, slowly and sarcastically. “Brave words. But we’ll get it out of you. Or Siebling. Whoever cracks first.”

  “John, go do a final check,” Haupt directed. “We were going to take you to a different location, but this atmospheric place is even better for our purposes. I doubt the inhabitants of this establishment will call the police even if they do hear you
screaming. Chances are, they’ve got problems of their own.” He stroked her hair. “Amazing color. Perhaps I’ll keep the hair, too….” He shook himself out of his reverie. “Well, then,” he said briskly. “Let’s get on with it. John, tie her.”

  Chapter

  11

  Jack’s heart beat like a jackhammer when he saw the van parked at the end of the Evergreen Acres complex. He killed the engine and let the truck roll silently down the downward grade toward the parking lot. A black SUV with tinted windows was parked a few units up from the battered van. Shiny and new. Glaringly out of place.

  He pulled up the emergency brake, wondered for a split second if it would be smarter to wait for reinforcements or just dive in.

  Hah. A no-brainer. Waiting was not an option. His mind would snap under the strain. He left the door open and slunk along the row of dingy, scarred doors in the long, white-painted cinder-block complex.

  He came to the last window. Edna was barking shrilly and desperately inside. He heard men talking. A man laughed, nastily. There was a smack, a feminine cry of pain, bravely choked off. Vivi.

  He had years of experience, of training. He knew better than to let rage control him, but the force that moved him was like demonic possession. He whipped up his H&K, squeezed off a shot through the window toward the ceiling. Shattering glass, shouts, frantic yelling. He flung himself at the door, took the fucker off its hinges. He swung the gun around wildly as his eyes adjusted to the dim interior.

  The thunk of a silenced pistol, and a bullet rustled his hair, punching into the cement blocks. Dust and debris flew. He returned fire. The bearded hulk of a guy dove behind the bed, where Vivi lay hogtied, twisted into a knot on her side. Her eyes on him, wide and terrified. The muzzle of the silenced gun rested on her ribs.

  The guy peeked up over her body. The gun spat. Jack dropped, noticing with eerie clarity how the carpet was crumbling into stinking chunks. He peered beneath the bed. Squeezed off a shot from below.

  A squeal, like a stuck pig. A hit. Yes. Jack scrambled to his knees, waiting for the big scowling guy to peep up over Vivi’s body. The guy crawled out, clutching his bloody right arm, howling something unintelligible. He took aim from the floor. Bullets sang by Jack’s shoulder, punched into the easy chair. Stuffing flew. One slammed into a plasterboard armoire, splintering it.