BEFORE HE LAPSES

by Blake Pierce

  Holland appeared to realize his mistake right away, his expression going from one of resigned regret to anger, back and forth as he tried to settle on an emotion.

  “Look, I’m sorry. But I’m sick and tired of being judged for this and I truly don’t appreciate being accused of screwing around with all students just because I happen to be involved in a current, responsible relationship with a consenting of-age woman.”

  “How old are you, Mr. Holland?” Mackenzie asked.

  “Forty-five.”

  “And how old is Melissa?”

  “Twenty-one.”

  “Have you ever been married?” Ellington asked, taking a step back and relaxing his posture.

  “Once. For eight years. It was miserable, if you must know.”

  “And how did that marriage end?”

  Holland shook his head and started making his way to the edge of the living room, where the foyer joined it. “Yeah, this conversation is over. Unless you plan on charging me with something, you can both get the hell out. I’m sure there are others at the college that can answer the rest of your questions.”

  Slowly, Mackenzie made her way to the door. Ellington followed reluctantly behind. Mackenzie turned back to him, her gut telling her there was something here.

  “Mr. Holland, you understand that by failing to cooperate, it makes it look much worse for you.”

  “I’ve dealt with that for the last month or so of my life.”

  “Where’s Melissa right now?” Ellington asked. “We’d like to speak with her as well.”

  “She’s…” But Holland stopped here, again shaking his head. “She’s been dragged through the mud, too. I won’t have you bothering her over this.”

  “So you aren’t answering any more of our questions,” Ellington said. “And you’re refusing to give us the location of someone else we need to speak with. Is that correct?”

  “That’s absolutely correct.”

  Mackenzie could tell that Ellington was getting riled up. She could see his shoulders going tense and his posture going as rigid as a stone slab. She reached out and gently touched his arm, anchoring him.

  “We’ll take note of that,” Mackenzie said. “If we need to speak with you again in regards to this case and it’s discovered that you aren’t home, we’ll consider you a viable suspect and you will be arrested. Do you understand that?”

  “Sure,” Holland said.

  He crowded them into the foyer as he opened the door for them. The moment they were standing on the porch, Holland slammed the door.

  Mackenzie started toward the porch stairs but Ellington held his ground. “You don’t think it’s worth pursuing?” he asked.

  “Maybe. But I don’t think anyone that is guilty would willingly share some of those details. Besides…we know his girlfriend’s first name. If it’s really pressing, we can probably weed her full name out from his records. The last thing we need, though, is the hasty arrest of an academic advisor who is already on thin ice and in a bit of controversy.”

  Ellington smiled and joined her heading down the stairs. “See…it’s things like this that are going to make you an amazing wife. Always keeping me from doing something stupid.”

  “I suppose I have had ample practice these last few years.”

  They got back into the car and when Mackenzie was in the seat, she again realized how tired she was. She would never admit it to Ellington, but maybe she did need to take it easy.

  One or two more days, little one, she thought to the growing life inside of her. Just a few more days and you and I will be getting all the rest we want.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  She knew she shouldn’t be doing this, but it was hard to resist. Besides…with a new semester on the way, this would be a good way to kick things off. One last fling. One last night of absolute craziness. And if it went the way it usually did, she’d leave feeling empowered—so empowered that it would easily override those quick little flashes of regret.

  And it would be a great way to start the new semester.

  Marie hadn’t even tried to talk herself out of it. The moment she’d parked her car in the garage, she knew this was where she would end up tonight. All she’d had to do was make the call, to let him know that she was back in town and wanted to see him. He had never denied her before and after three weeks apart, she highly doubted he would deny her now.

  And of course, he hadn’t.

  It was 11:05 when she walked to the back of the apartment building. It was in a sketchy part of town, but not so bad that she felt endangered by walking alone at night. Besides, it was only about eight miles away from campus and she knew that the crime rate anywhere near campus was incredibly small. Anyway, she was so excited about what the next few hours would bring that any sense of danger was long gone.

  When she reached the door at the back of the building, Marie was not at all surprised that it was locked. She buzzed his apartment number and was rewarded with the sound of the lock disengaging right away. He said nothing to her through the speaker, just unlocked the door. That made her smile; he would probably be in a very serious mood. Dominant, even.

  Cute, she thought. But we know who always ends up as the aggressor…

  That thought made her even more excited as she stepped inside. She didn’t even bother with the elevator, wanting to get to his apartment on the second floor as quickly as possible. She took the steps two at a time, her heart rate spiking from the exertion as well as the anticipation of what was waiting for her. The expectancy of it, from her drive down from New York to right now, approaching the apartment, was its own delicious foreplay.

  It had been a long drive. She was stressed out. Tense. Man oh man, she was going to wear him out…ride him right into the ground…

  When she reached his apartment, she found the door unlocked. She opened it just a crack and saw that the lights were out. Still, there was some illumination coming from the back of the main area, maybe a candle or something.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice sultry. She closed the door behind her and locked it.

  “Waiting for you,” came the answer.

  “Good. But…you can’t have me unless you tell me exactly what you want.”

  She heard him chuckle lightly somewhere in the darkness. As her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, she could see his shape in the living room, lying on the couch. She smiled and started to walk over to him.

  The apartment smelled dusty and unused—mainly because that’s exactly what it was. She knew he had a better place, but she also knew that he did not like to have her there. He liked to keep his personal life private. From what she understood about him, he spent very little time at home. She’d only seen the outside of it, usually meeting with him here or, on a few occasions, the back seat of his car or a hotel. While she understood the need for privacy, she also wished she could just ravage him in a huge bed for once, maybe with some mood lighting and music.

  But keeping it all hidden was sexy, too. It was part of the allure. It was why she was practically fighting back to the urge to pounce on him right then and there.

  But their trysts had always been about the build-up. Teasing, some rough foreplay, even some playfully derogatory remarks from time to time.

  “Come to me, Marie,” he said.

  She did, approaching the couch and finding him still fully dressed. That was fine with her; it would just stretch the foreplay out for longer.

  “That’s cute,” she said as she knelt on the floor in front of him. She kissed him softly, flicking her tongue against his lips in a way she knew he liked.

  “What’s cute?” he asked.

  “You, thinking you’re in control here.”

  “Oh, I am,” he said, sitting up.

  “I’ll let you think that for a while,” she said, nibbling at the soft flesh of his neck. He stirred against it and she felt his hands on her—one at her back, another at the back of her head. “But we both know the tr—”

  W
ithout warning, he grabbed her by the back of the head and jammed her head forward. She was pushed forward with violent speed, her forehead slamming into his knee.

  “What the…”

  But before she could get the question out, he was on top of her, pressing his full weight into her back. Her head reeled from the strike and for a moment, Marie legitimately had no idea where she was.

  As she got her hands under her to fight back against him, his hands were in her long blonde hair again. This time, he drove her head hard into the wood floor. Marie fought against it for a moment, but she quickly started to feel the world swimming away as a flaring pain radiated in the back of her head.

  Somewhere very far away, she was aware of him grabbing her by the waist of her pants and pulling them down. Then the world went black for a moment and she only came to after that because she felt his mouth on her, roaming seemingly everywhere.

  It made no sense. She would let him do just about anything to her and would, in return, do just about anything for him. So why would he…?

  This thought was also interrupted by the floating darkness that came and went. But this time when it came, it stayed for quite a while.

  ***

  It had involved more work than he’d thought but he was finally able to relax around two in the morning. The hardest part of all had been knocking her unconscious. He simply didn’t think he’d have it in him. Strangling people was one thing. It was just a matter of convincing yourself to do it and then applying the pressure once their neck was in his hands. But slamming Marie’s head into the floor had taken more grit than he had been expecting.

  When she was out, the rest of the work was hard but enjoyable. And as he went about the tasks, he started to feel comfortable with the decision he had made.

  He’d killed Jo Haley and Christine Lynch outright. With Jo, he’d slept with her, enjoyed the encounter immensely, and then strangled her when round two had gotten started. And perhaps the sex was to blame, but he had almost changed his mind—had almost chickened out. He’d learned a lesson there and opted to skip the sex when it had come to Christine. And then her body had been found and he’d seen the story on the news—just a blip, really, but an eye-opener all the same. It had made him rethink things…that he couldn’t just kill them.

  But he had to retain them. The ones beyond Christine, the ones that needed to be silenced. There would be more, including Marie. And if he could not kill them outright and just leave them where they fell, that meant he had to do something else. He had to be more discreet, more careful.

  He looked at his work and thought he would be fully capable of getting away with it. He stood in front of the opened coat closet that was located in the hallway. Marie was in the closet, completely nude and hanging by her bound wrists from the coat rack that ran horizontal across the width of the closet. There were also three strips of reinforced duct tape covering her mouth. Her body was hanging downward but her arms were stretched up over her head from where he had tied her wrists together. It was an oddly seductive pose and it made him regret not sleeping with her before he’d taken her captive.

  He’d been standing there, staring at her and enjoying the sense of power and accomplishment, for nearly fifteen minutes before Marie started to stir. She let out a little groan, trying to lean forward and sleepily realizing that she was being held in place. This seemed to alert her, her eyes flaring open and her legs standing upright. She looked around feverishly, taking in her situation: aching head, stark naked, bound to an iron bar in a coat closet, being watched with malicious intent by a man she had been sleeping with quite regularly over the past two months.

  She tried to speak, a single syllable trapped by the duct tape. A sound that he thought as a question: “What?”

  It was the only word she could get out as the severity of the situation came slamming into her.

  He walked up to her and cupped her chin in his right hand. She jerked back away from him only to find that it caused her bound arms to pull back at an awkward angle. He slowly ran his hand down from her chin, across her right breast, toward her inner thighs. For the first time since they had started sleeping together, she closed her legs to him as he explored downward.

  He laughed at her. In return, she tried screaming through the tape. It sounded like someone might be running a vacuum cleaner elsewhere in the apartment. He had shut her mouth off well, stretching the tape from ear to ear, reinforced three times.

  “No need for that,” he said. He did his best to ignore his flesh-driven needs and the excitement that pinged every nerve in his body. There were important things to get down to here—things to discuss and sort out.

  She moaned in response, silenced by the tape.

  “There are some things you and I need to talk about,” he said. He then showed her the gun he had been hiding behind his back—a gun he had picked up two years ago and had never used. He’d only ever picked it up a single time since purchasing it. And he honestly had no intention of using it now.

  Of course, there was no way Marie knew that.

  “If you scream or try to call out for help, I’ll kill you.” He walked forward again, pressing the side of his face to hers. He placed his free hand on her hip and pulled her forward. He then pushed the barrel of the gun into her bare stomach. “Do you believe me?”

  She nodded frantically. There was hurt and severe confusion in her eyes as the tears started to come.

  For a moment, he wondered if the gun would be preferable. It would certainly be over quicker.

  No…it would be too loud. And I’d miss out on that exquisite moment the light goes out of her eyes.

  He leaned back against the wall again, brandishing the gun as if it were nothing more than a cup of coffee.

  And then he began to talk. He talked and he accused, and he did his very best to keep from strangling her right then and there. Even when he ripped the tape from her face and allowed her to speak in little trembling whispers, he managed not to kill her.

  But the answers he got from her and the way she responded to him…he was pretty sure he would be strangling her soon. For a moment, as he had been tying her up, he convinced himself that if she gave him all of the information he wanted, he might release her.

  But that was ridiculous. She’d never be able to not turn him in—to report what he had done to her.

  So she was going to have to die, too. Like the other two.

  As this thought dawned on him, he found himself pleased to find that with each murder he committed, the concept got easier and easier to accept.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Back at the hotel, Mackenzie wrapped up her day with a hot bath. She typically wasn’t a fan of taking baths in hotel rooms but her feet and calves were aching, and her mind was reeling. She just wanted to relax. Had she not been sixteen weeks pregnant, she would have likely enjoyed a few glasses of wine as well.

  She replayed the visit to William Holland’s home over and over in her head. Her instincts told her that he likely had no role in the murders—that he just happened to have quite a few coincidences stacked against him. She also knew that the fact he had been so insistent on not providing information about his girlfriend might only mean that he was regretting the sacrifices he was having to make in order to make the relationship work. Giving up a fairly prestigious job just so he could have regular sex with a younger woman seemed like one hell of a sacrifice, even if he was falling in love with her.

  Despite all of that, she thought it might be worth the trouble of trying to get in touch with Holland’s current girlfriend. Even if Holland was a dead end, maybe she would also know Jo and Christine. Maybe she’d have some information on them that could—

  Her attention was broken by a knock at the bathroom door. It cracked open and Ellington peeked inside. “Am I okay to come in?”

  “Sure.”

  He gave her a playful whoa look as he stepped into the bathroom. She enjoyed the way he looked at her when she was naked. It wasn’t necessarily a
lustful sort of leering, but one of appreciation. Even now, when the beginning of her baby belly was beginning to announce itself, she could see it in his eyes.

  “You’re going to look sexy as hell with a baby belly,” he said. He removed her towel from the lowered toilet seat and sat down. His eyes still roamed her body through the steam of the hot water.

  “I heard you on the phone,” Mackenzie said. “Anything new?”

  “No. I just put in a request for any records on William Holland. I was going to start down a trail to try to find whatever Melissa he might be dating but that’s going to be incredibly hard without college resources.”

  “You really think he’s an avenue worth pursuing?” she asked.

  “Honestly…no. Someone that gives up on keeping his relationship with a student a secret so easily would make a lousy killer. Plus, he didn’t seem like he was trying to hide any information. He was giving it freely.”

  Mackenzie nodded. She checked her fingers and found them pruny. She wrinkled her nose at this and then gestured for her towel. Ellington handed it to her and she stood up to dry off. As she did, she looked down at her stomach skeptically.

  “Did you mean what you said?” she asked. “About me getting a baby belly?”

  “I did. Of course, I’ve never been with a woman with a baby belly. I’m just making a general assumption.”

  “You know, I’ve noticed my fingers starting to swell.”

  Ellington seemed unsure what to say about this. He took her in his arms after she wrapped the towel around her and kissed her forehead.

  “My ankles are swelling, too,” she said. “All of it is coming so fast. I know it’s incredibly vain, but I’m concerned what this baby is going to do to my body.”

  “You mean health-wise or appearance wise?” he asked.

  “Both.”

  “I hate to break it to you,” Ellington said. “But you and I…we’re married now. The only man that better be looking at you is me. And I can tell you with a great deal of certainty that when that baby belly comes and your ankles are all swollen and you’re waddling around like a duck…I’m still going to find you sexy.”