Cold Sight

by Parrish, Leslie

  Very doubtful, but technically not impossible. But he wasn’t about to go there. Discussing methods of dissolving a human body down to bone just wasn’t a conversation either of them needed right now.

  She cleared her throat. “About Vonnie.”

  He knew what she was about to ask. It was the one question he had been waiting for. The one he still wasn’t sure how to answer, mainly because he didn’t know the answer himself.

  “Have you had any feelings about her? You mentioned that your hands touched when she waited on you at the restaurant. Does that mean you could possibly ‘connect’ with her? Wouldn’t that be one way of finding out what’s happening here?”

  Aidan hesitated, not sure how much to share. Yesterday’s experience in his kitchen remained strong in his mind; if he focused, he could still hear the missing young woman’s voice. He no longer doubted that he had opened a channel of communication with Vonnie.

  But the evidence was so thin, the clues so tantalizingly obscure. A few scents, the word king, that strange, breathless sensation just before they’d been cut off? Those things could mean just about anything. Or, as much as he hated to admit it, nothing. After all, the last big case he’d worked on had shown him just how unreliable these visions could be. Still, it was worth at least checking one thing. “In your research on Vonnie, did you happen to stumble across anyone named King? Or somebody with that nickname?”

  She shook her head. “No, nothing. Why?”

  “Just a possibility that occurred to me,” he said.

  He heard her sucked-in breath as excitement hit her. “Something happened. You felt her, didn’t you?”

  “I haven’t experienced anything that leads me to draw any conclusions,” he finally said, not telling her the whole story, but not lying, either. “She might be alive; she might not. The best way to find out is through good, intensive detective work. For instance, paying attention to the tiniest details, which might not seem important at the time. Especially if you’re so close to a case you can easily miss them.”

  She stiffened. “Are you saying I overlooked something?”

  Flipping through the file, he pointed to the disc that contained the audio files she’d brought over earlier today. “Have you listened to these again? Once the heat of the story wore off, I mean?”

  She shook her head. “Not since I got shut down. It seemed pointless. Not to mention frustrating. Why? What do you think is on there?”

  Aidan didn’t know for sure that anything was, but he had a suspicion. “It seemed to me that several of the missing girls had something else in common.”

  “Beyond having crappy home lives and living in the Boro?”

  He nodded.

  Appearing anxious, she reached for her own hand-written transcriptions of the interviews. “What? What did I miss?”

  “It didn’t stand out quite as much in your notes, but it definitely did in their voices.” Wondering if she’d feel the same tingle of interest he had when he’d stumbled across the common refrain that had so interested him, he explained. “Most of the girls’ parents commented that it wasn’t the first time their daughters had dropped out of sight.”

  Her lips tightened and her green eyes flashed as if he had accused her of some wrongdoing. “For no more than a night, two at the most, and always with warning that they were going, or else a reason they might go. This is a completely different . . .”

  “I’m not criticizing you,” he said, waving off her defensive explanation. “Not accusing you of intentionally leaving out details. It wasn’t every girl and you’re right, a teenager fighting with her mother and being gone overnight is not the same as one who goes out on a normal day and never comes back.”

  She relaxed a little in her seat, but continued to eye him, still somewhat wary.

  Aidan pulled the transcripts from her hand and thumbed through the pages, pointing at small sections he’d highlighted. “It’s the way they said it. Not ‘Sometimes we’d fight and she’d stay out all night,’ but ‘One time she left a note that she had somewhere to go, then disappeared for two nights and we never found out where she’d been.’ ” He found the next one he’d noted, reading aloud again. “ ‘She scared us once, disappearing one Saturday night and she just seemed really unhappy when she came back.’ ”

  That one had bothered him. A lot.

  “Then there was the mother who said, ‘Something happened last summer. She was supposed to be at a friend’s one weekend, but she wasn’t. She would never talk about it or admit where she really was.’ A total of seven of the families made similar comments. Strange, don’t you think?”

  Her brow was furrowed as she thought about it; then she slowly began to nod. “Okay. I see what you mean. That’s not the standard my-teenager-threw-a-fit-and-took-off complaint.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  She closed the file, her slender hand resting on top of it, murmuring, “So what does it mean? Where did they all go, and what happened while they were there?”

  “That’s an excellent question.”

  Maybe it didn’t matter. Perhaps it had nothing to do with the disappearance of all these girls. But it was a link among them, a tiny red flag, and often in an investigation, those small flags led to interesting discoveries. “It’s definitely something that will require some good detective work.”

  She snorted. “Not one cop who works for Chief Dunston will help us.”

  “I wasn’t talking about those detectives.”

  No, he had a much more highly specialized group in mind. After all, Julia Harrington had asked him for plenty of favors over the years. It was about time he called in one of his own.

  EXtreme Investigations had resources police departments and other private investigation firms lacked. Their investigators were uniquely qualified to handle things like this, where the questions of the case far outweighed the leads. Not to mention where the circumstances were highly unusual. If there had ever been a crime meant to be solved by the XI group, this was it.

  Strange that just a few hours ago, he was determined to stay out of anything resembling a missing person’s case. He didn’t know whether it was because he’d met and remembered Vonnie, or because he truly believed Alexa Nolan had uncovered a mass conspiracy, or because there were just so damned many of these girls. Maybe also because it was a chance to show the local cops for the corrupt fools they were. All of these, perhaps. But most likely it was because he felt Vonnie’s terror for himself. Whatever the reason, he suddenly found himself anxious to get back to work.

  Julia had been saying for months it would happen, that he could never give up his old life completely. He’d thought doing a little crime solving from afar would be enough. He knew now it wasn’t. Not when a case this huge, this important, had landed right in his own front yard.

  For some reason, he had chosen to pack up and move to a town that had turned out to be a deathtrap for teenage girls. And Aidan’s own background, his intense curiosity and his strong sense of justice demanded that he try to do something about it.

  Which meant it was time to get to know a few more of his new neighbors.

  Chapter 6

  Friday, 8:05 p.m.

  Now that the cat-and-mouse game with Vonnie was becoming so entertaining, he had hated to leave her there, all alone in the pit. He had obligations, however. He couldn’t miss tonight’s big football game at the school, not without somebody noticing.

  Then again, perhaps it was just as well that he’d had to leave the girl alone. Keeping his pretty guest on her toes made her that much more interesting. Besides, he’d wanted to see how people were taking the latest disappearance.

  “Hey, everyone, great night for football, huh?” a passing parent called to the crowd.

  He smiled slightly, mumbling, “Every night’s a great night for football!”

  Too bad Vonnie wasn’t here to enjoy it.

  He’d known this one would get more attention. Her disappearance was bound to reignite the fire that had
been doused by that idiotic, bought-off puppet of a police chief, who’d managed to shut down the investigation right when it seemed about to begin.

  Funny that he liked the spotlight now, considering he’d spent the past couple of years trying to avoid detection by anyone except a very choice few. At first he’d wanted to arouse the suspicions only of those who knew exactly what all those missing girls had in common. He wanted them afraid, wanted them to realize someone else knew their secrets.

  Most of all, he wanted to punish them. Slowly, deliberately. He intended to drive away their security, their sanity, one chunk at a time until they turned on each other like rabid animals, wondering if they had a traitor in their midst.

  Tormenting those men had given him a great deal of pleasure. It was just what they deserved for what they’d done, the murderous lengths to which they’d gone to protect themselves and their diseased friends.

  Of course, his other pleasure was in having all those pretty girls to play with. How lucky for him, since torturing pretty girls had been one of his favorite pastimes even before he’d moved here to Granville.

  He’d been satisfied with all of that—revenge, and his time spent with those young ladies. Fear of his own capture had been enough to keep him from ever going further. All had been well, until Alexa Nolan had begun putting things together.

  When that had happened, he hadn’t panicked. He’d simply watched. Soon realizing his revenge plan had been helped by the attention, not hindered, he’d loved thinking about all the others in this shit- heel town who would be in a panic. Not because they gave a damn about the missing teenagers, but because any investigation would almost surely shed light on their own dark, dirty doings. Their fears were coming true. He could almost hear their whispered phone calls and secret meetings, could see it even through the public masks they wore over their hideously ugly, true faces.

  What fun.

  Then the chief had fouled everything up. Sure, Dunston had inadvertently provided him protection from discovery by shutting the story down. But he’d also removed that thrilling, exciting element that had him watching as his enemies squirmed.

  He’d known he had to get people around here talking again. And that’s exactly why he’d chosen her: Yvonne Jackson. Pretty Vonnie. Because while it upped the danger for him, it also put a lot of pressure on other men in this town . . . men who owned that police chief and pulled his puppet strings. Men who were undoubtedly pissing into their expensive leather shoes, wondering if this might be the card that knocked down their entire wobbly, degenerate house.

  “Can I get you something from the snack bar? Popcorn, or a hotdog?” asked a kindly voice.

  How nice. The locals were so thoughtful, the ladies predictably feeling sorry for him, a man alone with no little woman at home to take care of him. If only they knew he had a little woman locked in his basement right now, fulfilling his most deadly needs.

  “Thanks, but I’m okay.” He patted his stomach and grinned. “Gotta watch my figure.”

  The woman—who had never realized that she’d known him previously, the last time he’d lived in this hellhole of a place—chuckled a little awkwardly, not sure what to make of his joke. Just as he’d wanted.

  He wondered how hard she’d laugh if she could see what he really thought of her. What would she say if he tore off the nice, easygoing mask he wore, as deceptive and tricky as the ones worn by so many others in this town?

  She’d die of fright, he didn’t doubt. So he kept his thoughts hidden, his dreams his own. He smiled and mingled and conversed. And all the while, he glanced at the clock, thinking about what was going on one floor below the ground back in the dark, damp basement. He longed to be there, watching on his closed- circuit monitor, seeing Vonnie’s every move courtesy of a few hidden cameras.

  Are you still fighting?

  The girl had such amazing strength. That hadn’t surprised him initially; most of them had been strong when he’d taken them. Every one of his guests had been street kids, tough and hardened by their sorry, pathetic lives. And each of them had fought physically, which had provided a few worrying moments and the occasional bruise. Because street kids tended to fight dirty.

  That was okay. He’d been a street kid himself once. He’d learned how to fight at a young age, too—though not young enough to stop certain unpleasant things from happening.

  Unlike most of the girls, however, he’d also been incredibly smart, learning how to get along, how to do what had to be done in order to fit in, to survive. To thrive, even.

  Before now, none of his captives had exhibited that same ability. None had even been clever enough to play his game, to humor him in an effort to get him to keep them alive a little longer. They’d all been full of bluster and rage, then terror and pleas. Until now.

  Vonnie was different.

  Oh, she’d been full of bluster and rage at first. And she was most definitely terrified. But she’d kept her head about her, pretending to like his stories, playing meek and mild when she’d still had the strength to scream the roof down at the first possible opportunity.

  Fortunately for him, the old house he’d lived in as a child had been soundproofed long ago, in the days when he had been a frequent captive in the pit. The place now used to house reluctant young women had once been used to discipline recalcitrant little boys. Or simply to rape and torture them.

  He knew better than anyone how futile it was to scream. He and Jed had bloodied their vocal cords screaming before realizing it would do them no good. Vonnie had learned that lesson already, too. She was a quick learner. Brilliant. It was almost going to be a shame to kill her.

  A pleasurable one, though. Breaking her would give him more satisfaction than he’d had in a very long time.

  She had to be wondering if and when he would rape her—and that would probably happen. It always had before. But sexual release was never as pure and perfect as when he choked the life out of the person he was fucking at the very moment of orgasm. And he just wasn’t ready for Vonnie to die yet.

  Yes, she’d been a wonderful choice, serving so many purposes while giving him so much enjoyment. Taking Vonnie had been a calculated risk, and judging by the tension here tonight, it had paid off beautifully. In fact, everything had gone beautifully.

  “Except one thing,” he whispered with a frown, knowing any passing fan would think he was merely sending up whispered support for their team.

  Yes, there might have been one little hitch. One unforeseen circumstance.

  Nothing had come of it yet. Maybe it never would. Still, he couldn’t help thinking about that car he thought he’d seen in his rearview mirror as he’d slowly driven down the street to follow Vonnie home from school Monday night. The car whose headlights hadn’t been on.

  Had it really been there? If so, why had the lights been off? Had the driver seen him following his target? What other reason could there be for the clandestine driving?

  Could just be a careless teenage driver.

  Maybe. Maybe not. The vehicle hadn’t been there a few minutes later when he’d pulled over, clubbed the girl, and thrown her into his trunk; he knew that for certain. But someone could have seen him turn down that street just a few minutes before Vonnie disappeared, and could start asking questions.

  Damn it. Not knowing was driving him insane.

  He couldn’t put it off, couldn’t wait to see if anything came of it. He had to act, eliminate the threat before it ever became a legitimate one.

  Fortunately, the car had had a distinctive shape. He had a pretty good idea of the model, and knew of a few locals who drove them. He also had a good idea of where to go to look for this particular one, and he intended to do just that during halftime. Because if he really had seen that car, on that night, in that area, odds were it belonged to a student from Granville High School. Even better odds said it had been one who’d been at that honors club meeting.

  The vehicle was probably right now parked in the school parking lot. Which m
eant the potential witness against him could be here in this crowd, mere feet away.

  His heart thudded; he knew what he had to do. This one would be far different from his usual type, another honors student who didn’t have the background of the Boro to give him or her—oh God, he hoped it was a her—the strength to fight him.

  How interesting it would be, bringing Vonnie a play-mate, especially given what he’d asked her tonight: Will you beg for someone else?

  Like he had once begged for Jed after a particularly brutal beating, when he’d thought the younger boy would die?

  What would it do to the strong, tough girl if she had to watch while another was tortured to death? Would she plead? Finally break down and stop pretending she liked his stories and wanted him there?

  He also wondered about something else. Which would horrify her more—seeing he’d brought her a friend? Or the moment when he took off the mask and let her see the face of her tormentor?

  He shivered at the thought, not with fear, not with worry, but with pure excitement.

  Like he always did when things were about to get especially bloody.

  Friday, 8:35 p.m.

  As she’d predicted, the stadium was packed. Easing in a half hour into the game, Lexie and Aidan were able to skirt the crowd so none of the enemies of truth and justice, as she’d begun to think of Dunston and his cronies, had seen her yet. They headed toward the small building that housed the concessions stand and restrooms, and from there would be able to mix with the fans making their way along the track back to the visitor’s-side bleachers. Having a ringside seat to the action on the field, and off it, she hoped Aidan’s impartial eyes would notice something hers might miss.

  “Oh, hell, it’s Stan,” she whispered, seeing a familiar face not ten feet from where she and Aidan stood, trying to sidle their way along the outer fence.

  “What?”