Cold Sight

by Parrish, Leslie

  “Damned carpetbaggers,” the chief muttered.

  “Underwood . . . why do I know that name?”

  “Because,” she said, “he’s majority owner of the paper. No wonder he was so anxious to shut me up. You know if I had kept digging into those missing girls, I would have found out about this dirty club.”

  This time, Dunston didn’t convey his feelings with only a look. He cleared his throat, saying, “I apologize, Ms. Nolan. I regret not believing you.”

  “Thank you,” she replied absently, as if she’d moved past the painful episode. Maybe now, with so much at stake, she had been able to.

  Dunston looked at Frank and waved the tax record. “Mind if I hold on to this?”

  “If it’d help you find Taylor Kirby, you could have the original,” the clerk said.

  “That’s another thing,” Dunston muttered. “How do the Kirby girls tie in to everything? I sure can’t see the members of this club playing those kinds of games with girls who are close enough to their parents that they’d tell ’em what was going on.”

  Lexie turned away, wrapping her arms around herself. She hadn’t said anything, but Aidan imagined her guilt had only grown more weighty with the discovery that Jenny was actually dead.

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” he told them both.

  Turning her head to look over her shoulder, Lexie waited. Hoping she’d see the reason in his theory, he said, “Look, Taylor was one of the students who got up and spoke at the game Friday night.”

  Dunston crossed his arms over his chest, looking belligerent. That memory was obviously a raw one.

  “Maybe the killer was there. He was angry, challenged, and decided to grab one of those two girls, as payback or something. Taylor was who he found first, and poor Jenny was just in the way.” Expounding on the thoughts that had been nagging in his brain, he added, “Or hell, maybe he liked the attention and decided to get even more of it by taking someone he knew would cause an uproar.”

  Aidan honestly didn’t know. None of them could, not until they found the monster responsible.

  “All that makes sense, but there’s no point wonderin’ about it now,” Chief Dunston said. “Not when we got somebody to talk to.” He looked at his watch, then at Lexie. “Do you happen to know where Ed Underwood spends most of his Sunday afternoons?”

  She shook her head.

  “Well, I do. He likes to sit in Walter’s office and go over every bit of the business, make sure each nickel is accounted for and everything is being done just the way he wants it. He’s the type who thinks everyone’s out to rob him blind.”

  “Do you think he’d do that today, with what’s going on with Walter?”

  “Ayuh. Even more reason for him to if he thinks Walter won’t be around for a while. Too worried about being cheated to think about his partner’s kids.”

  Lexie sneered. “Asshole.”

  “Maybe so. But at least he’s a predictable one.” Pulling his sunglasses off his head and wiping them with a corner of his shirt, he added, “You wouldn’t happen to have a key to your office, in case you need to get in there after hours, would you?”

  A slow smile creased her face as she nodded. “As it just so happens, I do, Chief Dunston. But if you want to use it, you’re going to have to let me—us—come with you.”

  The chief sighed. “Christ Almighty, what am I doing?” Then, almost resigned, he agreed to her demands. “Considering my own men don’t even know any of this is goin’ on, I’ll consider you my backup.” When Lexie’s smile widened, the chief pointed a finger at her. “However, you’re a silent, invisible backup. You two stay out of sight, and let me do all the talking. I know this man. I know he’s not going to want to say a thing, and he won’t if he thinks there’s anybody else around to hear. And if I think he’s involved in a crime and he might incriminate himself, I’m going to have to read him his rights and take him in.”

  “I can’t see Ed Underwood being smart enough to be behind these killings,” Lexie said. “He doesn’t care about anything except money.”

  “And having sex with teenage girls,” Aidan pointed out.

  Lexie and the chief both fell silent, acknowledging that bitter truth.

  Nobody really knew what anyone else was capable of. They had been neighbors with all these “good” people. They’d been friends with them, worked with them. Before now, he didn’t suppose Lexie or Chief Dunston had ever imagined those men capable of the things they’d done. So how much of a stretch was it to think they might have done even worse?

  Maybe a lot worse.

  Sunday, 4:50 p.m.

  Jenny. Her sister, her other half.

  “Gone,” she whispered.

  He killed my sister. He killed her. She’s dead.

  Taylor knew the words repeating over and over in her brain would eventually sink in. They’d stab her through the heart and she’d believe them and then she’d lose her mind. So she did everything she could not to go down that path. In her brain, she accepted it, but she refused to allow the awful truth of it to overwhelm her emotions and crush her heart completely.

  She couldn’t, not yet. Couldn’t cry for the twin who she would grieve for as long as she lived—whether that was another hour, or another century.

  Taylor had known Jenny was gone from the moment she’d woken up in this hole. Everything had felt different right away and she’d noticed that difference as soon as she’d fully regained consciousness. Not because she was in so much pain—her head throbbing, her back feeling seared—and scared and lost in the darkness. It had been more subtle, infinitely more awful.

  Her world had been solid and secure every day of her life. Until now. Now there was some intrinsic, vitally important piece missing. Just like she always knew when Jenny was sad or hurt, the very emptiness, that lack of connection, had made it clear her sister was no longer alive.

  She hadn’t needed the filthy, murdering bastard—whose voice she would swear she knew from somewhere—to say it. She’d already known.

  Tears tried to rise, but she blinked hard, knowing her sister would be angry with her if she gave in to them. You’re the strong one, Taylor, so be strong! Jenny would say.

  She’d already had to exhibit more strength than she’d ever have believed she possessed. Just by doing absolutely nothing. If that psycho had shared that awful truth when she hadn’t been prepared for it, Taylor would likely have done exactly what he’d expected her to do: Break down. Scream. Sob.

  But she hadn’t. She’d lain on that cold, hard floor, listening to him describe the awful things he’d done to the person she’d loved most in the world, and she had controlled herself. She’d stayed still. Let him think she was unconscious, in a coma, or almost dead.

  At first, she’d wished she were. She didn’t want to fight, didn’t want to survive at all.

  Her sister wouldn’t let her give up. Don’t you dare, Taylor Kirby. Don’t you let him win. He can’t have us both! You have to fight. Mom and Dad need you to. They can’t survive losing both of us; you know that.

  Jenny had been right. And Taylor had listened, and obeyed.

  Even while he walked around the room, mere feet away, the image of her sister had kept Taylor’s entire focus. Her eyes had been closed, and yet she’d seen Jenny there, exactly as she’d been on that parking lot, lying on her stomach, a few feet away, her arm outstretched. Their fingers had touched again, their bodies mirroring each other. Only this time, Jenny’s eyes were open, her lips pursed as she silently whispered, “Shh!”

  Her sister’s voice had ordered her to be still. Jenny’s hand had held her down, kept her from swinging out in fury, despite the pain of hearing the truth put into words. And once the murderer was gone, Jenny had told her what to tell poor, beaten Vonnie to do before she got sick all over the floor.

  Unfortunately, though, Jenny now seemed to have fallen silent.

  So had Vonnie.

  Believing Taylor’s claim that they were being watched, Vonn
ie hadn’t spoken much once they were alone. She’d tried a few words, which sounded as though they’d come from a mostly closed mouth. After confirming Taylor’s identity, she’d repeated the same phrase that had awakened Taylor this morning. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

  As if any of this were her fault.

  Then the other girl had grown quiet again. Waiting for the dark, as Taylor was.

  Holding out for the dark.

  She only hoped that when the dark came—as the late-afternoon shadows seemed to say it soon would—Vonnie would be able to speak. She had fallen asleep, or else she hadn’t gotten the drugs out of her system soon enough. She was still over there on that cot, her deep, even breaths telling Taylor she was completely dead to the world.

  Taylor wondered if the other girl was dreaming. If she was even capable of dreaming anymore, after being locked down here for almost a week, enduring whatever she’d endured that had left her so bruised and bloody.

  The shadows grew longer, the cell dimmer. But Taylor remained patient. Partially because she knew she had to, due to the cameras he must have hidden down here. And partially because she was so overcome with terror, she didn’t know if she was capable of movement.

  Yes, you are.

  “Yes,” she mumbled, glad to be hearing Jenny’s voice again, even if she couldn’t see her right now. She’d swear she’d felt the warmth of her sister’s breath on her cheek as she’d whispered in her ear. Taylor remained calm, knowing that, no matter what happened, her sister would be here with her.

  The last bit of daylight coming in from the window over Vonnie’s cot went out, like a candle being extinguished. Darkness descended, full and thick. And while she certainly didn’t think it would be safe to get up and move around, she at least felt confident he wasn’t going to be able to see her lips move, especially not with her tangled hair still lying across her face.

  “Vonnie?”

  She’d thought the other girl was asleep. But the response was immediate. “I’m here, Taylor.”

  “I was afraid you had passed out.”

  “No. Just wanted him to think I had.”

  Smart girl.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she added.

  Taylor couldn’t help letting out a small laugh, thinking of all the other reasons she had to be scared.

  Vonnie chuckled, too. “Okay, forget I said that. Are you okay?”

  The pain in her back was bad. So bad. And lying the way she was for so many hours had made it worse. Though she didn’t like the idea of him knowing she was mobile, she had to shift. “I think he stabbed me.”

  “Considering there’s a knife sticking out of your back, I’d say that’s a good bet.”

  A sob rose in her throat. She swallowed it. Now it wasn’t Jenny’s voice she heard telling her to hold it together, it was Vonnie’s matter-of-fact one. “It’s tiny, like a penknife. It’s closer to your side, and if he’d hit any vital organs or major vessels you’d already be dead. So we’ll deal with it when we can. Until then, try not to move.”

  They’d deal with it. Okay. But not moving seemed even more impossible than the idea that they could actually escape from here.

  Vonnie’s chains clinked, as if she were rolling around. Taylor suspected the girl was trying to turn enough to see her, probably desperate for a familiar face.

  “Everybody’s been so worried about you. There was a big protest at the game Friday night. Kids from both schools.”

  “I can’t believe it,” Vonnie whispered.

  “Believe it. People care. Everyone was devastated, afraid you were dead.”

  “I thought I was, at first. Wish I’d taken that ride home from your sister.” The girl sniffled. “I’m so sorry, Taylor.” Then, her voice sounding a little stronger, she added, “But, you know, maybe it’s not true. You can’t believe everything he says. He lies. I know he lies.”

  Jenny. She squeezed her eyes tight, forcing the tears away. Not now. Can’t think about that now.

  “He’s not lying,” she said, not wanting to explain how she knew. Most people wouldn’t understand. “And you should know, my sister isn’t the one who offered you a ride.”

  She told Vonnie what had happened, how she and Jenny had switched places—never again. Oh God, never again.

  Stop it, Taylor.

  “Okay, Jenny,” she whispered.

  Hearing that story, Vonnie, in turn, told Taylor why the monster had targeted her—them.

  Hearing the true reason, that all of this might have happened because she’d driven her car across the parking lot without the headlights so they wouldn’t get busted for trading places, she thought she’d be sick. “Jenny died because of that?”

  “Jenny died because a fucking psycho decided to kill her,” Vonnie declared. “That’s all. You were awake—you heard him talking. It could just as easily have been you. He didn’t know, and he didn’t care, and it’s definitely not your fault.”

  It could have been her? It should have been her. She wished it had been her. Because of the two of them, Jenny was the good one, the nice one, the smart one. The one who would have done something amazing for this world, if only by being a part of it for the next eighty years.

  “Stop it.”

  She thought for a second she’d heard Jenny’s voice again. But it was Vonnie’s.

  “I knew your sister. I know everything going through your mind right now would be going through hers if the situations were reversed.”

  Maybe. Probably. But that didn’t make the pain of it go away.

  She still found it hard to believe all of this had come about because of this monster’s crazy paranoia. “He thought I might have seen him driving after you so he killed my sister and intends to kill me.”

  Vonnie didn’t sugarcoat it. “Yeah.”

  “I don’t remember seeing anyone out of place,” Taylor insisted. “Nobody I wouldn’t expect to see leaving the school at that time of night.”

  “What can I say? Neither did I. Didn’t know a thing was wrong until he took me. Never felt like anybody was watching me, had no warning whatsoever.”

  Neither had she and Jenny. Not a single goose bump, despite what happened in books or movies. The man who had done this had not given them even a faint psychological hint of what he intended to do.

  The man who’d done this.

  Who was he? Who could be so vicious?

  The voice might have sounded vaguely familiar, even though he’d disguised it. But trying to connect that voice to someone she knew who was capable of doing what this man had done was simply impossible. Her mind wasn’t wired to spot something so utterly evil. And Jenny’s definitely hadn’t been.

  She fell silent, lost in her thoughts. So did her cellmate. Until finally, after a long moment, Taylor asked the question that was probably most on both of their minds.

  “Vonnie, how are we gonna get out of here?”

  Chapter 16

  Sunday, 5:05 p.m.

  As the chief had predicted, when they arrived at Lexie’s office, they found Ed Underwood. He sat in Walter’s office, going through his files and his paperwork. The fact that the man whose desk he was rifling through had lost a child last night didn’t seem to matter much.

  She wanted to slap him. Instead, she’d been forced to hover outside in the hall, lurking and listening, just like Stan had the other day. This time, though, the door was slightly open; Dunston had left it that way so she and Aidan could hear what was happening.

  At first, Underwood tried to bluster his way out of it, until the chief had slapped down a copy of the tax record and told the man he’d followed them the previous night.

  “Look, Jack, there’s nothing mysterious about it. We got a financial club, that’s all,” Underwood said. “Me and some of the other guys get together and pool our money in the stock market. That’s all there is to it.”

  Even from out here, she heard the lie in his shaky, weak voice. She suspected members of the Hellfire Club had co
me up with that story and any one of them would repeat it if pressed.

  “Okay, then, if that’s all there is to it, you won’t mind giving me a list of the names of the club members. Every one of them. I know not all of them were around last night. Some months there’s as many as twenty men.”

  “Have you been spying on us?” Underwood sounded indignant.

  “The list,” Dunston said, not distracted.

  “I can’t. Don’t you understand?” The man’s voice went softer, as if he was afraid. “They’re not all like you and me, Jack. Some of them are dangerous.”

  “I’m nothing like you,” Dunston snapped. “Now, the names. I already know Mayor Cunningham’s involved. Plus Harry Lawton. I saw them both last night.”

  “Yes, yes,” the man said, sounding weary.

  “And Wilhelm, that teacher from the high school. Vice Principal Young, too. Is Principal Ziegler part of it?”

  “No, but Principal Steele is.”

  The chief rattled off a few more names, most of which shocked Lexie. She shook her head in disgust, thinking of how proudly those men wore their piety and touted their nice, wholesome family values. God, to think high school teachers and principals were involved—abusing girls they were supposed to be educating, protecting. It made her want to throw up.

  Beside her, Aidan suddenly stiffened. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. It had apparently been vibrating. Mouthing, “I’ll be right back,” he headed down the hall so he could answer the call out of earshot of the other two men.

  When he returned a few minutes later, tension rolled off him. Beckoning her over, he whispered, “We need to get Dunston out here. I’ve got a name to feed him.”

  “From?”

  “Derek.” He sighed. “He found the spot where Jessie Leonard was killed.”

  “Oh God.”

  “He also knows something about the man who killed her. I think Dunston could use that information to work on Underwood.”

  She considered, knowing they couldn’t do anything to arouse Underwood’s suspicions. “We should have gotten his cell phone number. Maybe I could. . . .” Her words trailed off, however, when she saw a shape move across the inset glass panel on a door that led to another set of offices. The figure wore a ball cap and was bent over, as if pushing something. Like a mop.