by Debra Webb
Fury tightened his lips. He drew back his hand.
She braced for the blow.
He laughed at her instinctive reflex. Dropped his hand to his side. “See, you are a scared little girl. Frankly, I find all that feigned bravado quite tedious.”
“Life sucks like that sometimes.”
He made a sound of agreement. “It does indeed.” For five or six seconds he deliberated as if undecided as to how he would proceed. “You know why you’re here. Why make our time together more unpleasant than necessary? It’ll be much easier for both of us if you cooperate, Lori Doodle.”
How dare he call her that! Her father had given her that nickname…this scumbag had no right. She didn’t need him or a GPS to show her where this was headed. “Go to hell.”
She wasn’t making this easy for him. He would kill her anyway.
Spears turned his back and strode across the room.
Lori quickly scanned the space now that the lights were on, searching for any aspect of her surroundings that might provide some hint as to where the hell she was.
The fast-acting sedative he’d injected when he forced her into his SUV had prevented her from assessing the distance or the traffic sounds as he’d driven her here. She still felt a little groggy. Mouth was dry. She squared her shoulders, focused on clearing her head. She had to pay attention, to be ready for whatever came next. Let your training and instincts guide you.
Focus, Lori.
A warehouse, she decided. An old one for sure. Brick walls soared some twenty or so feet to a ceiling where steel beams supported the roof. Naked fluorescent tubes glowed from metal fixtures suspended five or six feet overhead. The smell of disuse permeated the air. She tried to get a better look behind her. Couldn’t. Wooden crates lined the wall to her right suggesting the warehouse had been used recently in some capacity. Birmingham had its share of neglected and abandoned buildings…she’d been in a few but not this one. From her position in the middle of the large open room, she could see a door. Maybe an exit. Maybe just an office or bathroom.
One shot at that door was all she needed…if it wasn’t a dead end.
Images of what this bastard had done to those other women rolled like an old-fashioned filmstrip through her mind. Defeat chiseled away at her courage.
Spears grabbed the one remaining chair in the place and dragged it over to where she sat bound, wrists, ankles, and waist, to a similar heavy metal chair. He scooted it close and straddled the seat, his spread knees flanking hers.
Like his subtle aftershave, his wardrobe exuded an understated elegance. The navy suit jacket hadn’t come from a rack in any store where men she knew shopped. The white shirt was crisp and pristine like he’d just picked it up from the cleaners. The jeans fit as if they had been designed and created by his personal tailor.
Blond hair, blue eyes, classic attractive features.
If you want to know what evil looks like, look in the mirror.
Jess had definitely gotten that right. Spears appeared nothing like the depraved killer Lori knew him to be. Why did he bother abducting women when he could easily charm them into his lair with that killer smile and deep smooth voice?
The hunt. Somehow it fueled him…drove his heinous desires.
Lori wished she knew half what Jess did about this sick piece of shit.
She remembered vividly hearing in the news that not a single one of the Player’s victims had ever escaped alive.
Lori’s chest ached. She didn’t want to die. Her sister needed her. Her mother needed her. At least they were safe from this bastard. As soon as Chief Burnett and Jess knew Lori was missing, they would take steps to protect her family.
She thought of Chet Harper and how he wanted so much more from her than she had given. Would she have made that same choice if she had known this day was coming?
Spears chucked her under the chin, forcing her attention back to him. “Let’s get one thing straight, detective. However much you test me, this isn’t about you,” he explained in that calm, clever tone that belied his every action.
“All your hard work to reach the esteemed rank of detective earlier than most means nothing to me.”
He tugged at a lock of her hair, twirled it between his fingers. “That you are most attractive means nothing to me.”
Lori waited, her heart thudding with apprehension, for him to spell out exactly what he wanted from her besides her life.
“I brought you here,” he whispered, leaning forward so that he lingered nose-to-nose with her, “so Jess will pay attention. You think I have her attention?”
Fear buffeting ever harder against her defenses, Lori steadied herself. She would not let him use her to get to Jess. No way.
“She told me all about you.” Lori forced a smile, inclined her head and studied his face the way he had done her. “What happened? Did mommy fail to protect you when daddy decided he preferred you to her? Is that why you hate women so much?”
His hand went to her throat; strong fingers closed, cutting off her airway. “Do not toy with me, detective.”
There was nothing amiable about his tone now. The fear she fought to restrain dug its claws in deep even as he released her. She gasped. Her thoughts raced in frantic circles. The things Jess had told kept colliding with her own instincts.
“Do you think I have her attention?” he repeated.
“Yes.” Lori cleared her throat, wished she had a drink of water. “I’m certain you have her attention.”
“That’s better,” he said softly. “Now, tell me about this Chief Burnett.”
Lori swallowed, took another jagged breath. “What about him?”
“What’s his interest in Agent Harris?”
Lori struggled to collect herself. “She’s a top notch profiler and investigator. I imagine he’ll offer her a position in the department.” She looked straight into the bastard’s eyes. “Because of you she’s probably unemployed.”
She wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t know with that last statement. The other was pure conjecture. But Lori suspected Chief Burnett was far too smart to let Jess get away again for reasons in addition to her investigative skills.
Spears shrugged. “One does what one must. She created quite a conundrum for me back in Virginia. Diverting attention was essential. Now the world is focused on her inept methods rather than my precise work. Ironic, isn’t it?”
“If you think the Bureau will stop trying to nail you just because you pulled a bait and switch, I’m afraid you’re going to be incredibly disappointed.”
He waved a hand. “Let them run around in circles. That game is over. I won.” He traced her cheek with his forefinger. She shuddered, prompting him to smile. “This is a new game and I need Jess to play. Will you help me, Lori Doodle?”
“Do I have a choice?” The answer to that was a big, flashing neon sign in her brain. Tears burned her eyes. She blinked them back. She would not cry for this scumbag.
“You always have a choice, detective.” His lips lifted again in that charismatic expression that masked the house of horrors beneath. “You have one now. Live daringly or die quickly. You choose.”
She laughed around the fear crowded in her throat. “Do you really expect me to believe that if I cooperate you’ll let me live?” Wow, Santa was here already and it was only July. “Give me a break, Spears.”
“I will. You have my word,” he promised. “For a bit anyway.”
That was what she thought.
“Consider your options carefully, Detective Lori Wells.” He put his face in hers again. “The longer you stay alive, the more opportunity you’ll have to perhaps see that urge of yours to fruition. Who knows?” He straightened, drew back to look her in the eyes. “You might just get that chance to watch me die. After all, no one lives forever.”
He stood, hauled his chair away from hers. “While you weigh your options, I’m going to find someone to keep you company.” He laughed. “Actually, I think I’m the one who needs com
pany. You are b-o-r-i-n-g with a capital B.”
Lori’s heart rammed into her throat.
She had to do something…otherwise he was going hunting…
“Wait!”
He stopped.
“I…don’t leave me here by myself. Please.”
He turned around slowly. A grin spread across his lips. “Ah…so you’re ready to play, are you?”
His singular motive is pleasure. Jess’s voice whispered in her ears. The only way he can feel it is by torturing his victims in the most depraved ways.
“Yes.” Lori moistened her lips, wrestled back the fear. “I’m ready to play.”
DEBRA WEBB, born in Alabama, wrote her first story at age nine and her first romance at thirteen. It wasn’t until she spent three years working for the military behind the Iron Curtain—and a five-year stint with NASA—that she realized her true calling. A collision course between suspense and romance was set. Since then she has penned nearly 100 novels. The Faces of Evil is her debut thriller series. Visit Debra at www.debrawebb.com
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