by Geri Krotow
You’ll miss Bella.
He scanned the stage as the music began and the lights focused first on each contestant as she walked across the stage. He followed the beams to where the lights were affixed to scaffolding brought in just for the pageant. The school’s theater lights were manually operated from a control booth in the audiovisual room above the theater seats. The scaffolding lights were remotely operated, too, but he knew there were two techs up in the rafters affixed to the metal structure, there to maneuver some of the special effects, to include a net of balloons that would drop when the new Ms. Mustang Valley was announced.
He counted one, then two of the techs, in place as prescribed.
“You’re looking awfully dapper for a G-man.” Spencer stood next to him in the theater, grinning as if he’d discovered Holden’s deepest secret.
“It’s for the pageant. Selina demanded it.”
Spencer guffawed, the noise swallowed by the loud music booming through the theater as the contestants moved through the opening dance routine. Holden’s gaze never left Bella’s form, and he didn’t see why she was so unhappy with wearing body armor. To him, it only made her look more the warrior that he already knew her to be.
“Do you really think the killer’s still even in Mustang Valley?” Spencer spoke from the side of his mouth as they both watched the stage.
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
“It seems stupid. If he really wanted to kill Bella, he would have.”
Spencer’s comment was salt to the self-inflicted wounds he’d been nursing the last few days. And the long nights in three different hotel rooms around the area, where he’d slept on a bed next to Bella’s, while the entire place was in lockdown with plain clothed MVPD officers and two rookie FBI agents who’d been sent in to help out.
“Aw, crap, Holden, I didn’t mean to say—”
“Yes, you did. I left your sister in the hallway and never thought about the fact the killer had disabled two officers and would enter through the master-bedroom sliding door.”
“You’re not perfect, Holden. You kept the killer from coming into the kitchen. If you hadn’t, you’d both be dead.”
He shoved his self-loathing aside, spoke out of the side of his mouth as he kept vigilance on the stage.
“We’re both still here and I have a killer to catch. Bella can defend herself as needed.” Not that he’d ever let it get to that point. “I’m certain he is still here, a part of the pageant. His MO is to take his time, draw out the actual murder. You’ve read the same reports I have.”
“No, I haven’t. You have more access than I do with the other two murders—they’re out of my jurisdiction.”
“Trust me on this. The killer is still here.”
And he was going to catch him.
* * *
Bella squatted down behind stage left to adjust her ankle holster. Her dress was long enough to not reveal the weapon, but she didn’t want any of the leather to show, either. Holden had watched her affix it to her leg, and it had been difficult to keep her mind on the investigation and the killer who was after her with him looking at her so closely.
“You holding up okay?” Holden had materialized as if from her thoughts.
She stood and even in her heels only came up to his chin. “I am. To be honest, I’d really like this to be over once and for all.” She was tired of fighting her fears, and the knowledge that the end of the pageant meant the end of ever seeing Holden again was getting to be too much for her already-worn-out emotions.
“I’m sorry it’s not already finished for you.”
Was he referring to the killer or their unrelationship?
“Everyone center stage, please. Last call before the final number.” Señora Rosenstein was filling in for Selina while the woman changed into what she said was the best costume this pageant has ever seen. Someone needed to tell her that she wasn’t a contestant.
“Do you really think the killer is still even in Mustang Valley?” She and Holden spoke in hushed tones as they stood on the stage, under the lights, waiting for the last instructions.
“Yes.”
Holden’s grim expression told her what she dreaded. The killer was that cold, that measured in his attack plan that he’d do anything to get his way and have the murder be to his liking. His depraved needs.
Funny, she’d willingly entered a contest she didn’t believe in, only to find she had more in common with all the other women that not. Bella understood how Gio had seen the pageant community as an extended family.
The memory of Gio reminded her that she’d not gotten far at all on her exposé. Suddenly it didn’t matter. What mattered was the safety of these women, of all the future Ms. Mustang Valley contestants. Anger flared and lit a flame she’d always carried but had never allowed to empower her like this before.
“Holden.” Her voice was loud, and not only did Holden turn to her but so did the entire pageant.
“Excuse me!” Selina had returned.
“Shut up, Selina.” She turned back to Holden and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Look, we have to make this happen on our terms, not the bad guy’s.”
Holden opened his mouth to probably tell her to be quiet and let him do the find-the-serial-killer bit, but she saw the opportunity for what it was. Bella leaned up and wrapped her hands around Holden’s nape, pulled him to her and kissed him with all her might.
He stiffened, and while he didn’t push her away he didn’t tug her in close, either, as he had before. Bella paid it no mind—she was after one thing.
To entice the killer.
The other pageant participants tittered, gasped and awwwwed until they all broke out into a loud round of applause. Only when she was certain no one involved in the event could have possibly missed the kiss did Bella pull back.
Holden’s eyes glittered with cold fury. He leaned in, though, and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her again.
“What the hell, Bella?” His voice low and lethal, he asked his question against her ear.
“The killer wants me. This is the surest way to draw him out.” She felt Holden’s breath hitch as she whispered back. “I’d rather have him come for me tonight than tomorrow during the actual pageant finale, with a few thousand civilians in the audience.”
“I don’t know how you got the impression that the stage is your personal rendezvous spot, but it’s not. Please do your job, Holden, and Bella, you’ve come too far to get disqualified now.”
She stepped back but Holden’s hand still had a grasp on her wrist. She turned and looked at him. “What?”
“Don’t forget what I’ve taught you.”
He released her and disappeared behind the stage, where she knew he’d be on alert, patrolling, waiting for the killer to make his move. As she walked to her spot to wait until her time to give her talent portion—the recitation of a poem written by a reporter two centuries ago—she wished she could hang with Holden in the dark. Just one more time before they parted ways and never saw one another again.
Chapter 23
Holden looked under the stage, and through the entire backstage, with zero evidence of a killer or anyone else. Becky moved through the routine of the pageant numbers like any other contestant, and she never once appeared to be doing anything but what everyone else did. She didn’t have a weapon on her—every contestant had been searched and put through the metal detector as part of the extraordinary security measures. Everyone, it seemed, was either on the stage, in the orchestra pit below stage front, or up in the lighting scaffolding. The pageant board members were all seated in the audience seats in rows one and two, save for Selina. She continued to cue each contestant to come forward to answer their questions and then perform their talent portion, just as they would on finale night.
Marcie began to sing the Broadway tune he’d heard at least
twelve times during the previous practices, and he felt his insides tighten with adrenaline-fueled anxiety. He was always wound tight before an op went down, if he was aware of it. This time it was so much more than an op, or taking out a serial killer, no matter how hard he tried to believe it wasn’t.
This was all about Bella and saving her. Sure, he’d catch the killer in the process, and while it wouldn’t hurt his career progression to do so, it wasn’t what mattered to him most.
He wanted Bella at his side all the time, not just as the woman he was ordered to protect through the investigation and eventual apprehension of a serial killer.
Holden watched Bella walk across the stage when it was her turn but didn’t allow himself the luxury of appreciating her beauty or grace, even in the cumbersome body armor. If the killer attacked before he had a chance to react, it would mean Bella’s life.
He cursed himself, wished he’d insisted she drop out of the Ms. Mustang Valley Pageant. It was beyond agony to know that at any moment she might be hurt, or worse.
The only thing keeping him sane was that the level of security imposed by Spencer and MVPD was the best it could be. He prayed it’d give him enough time to save Bella, if and when the killer struck.
When Bella finished the poem, which he hadn’t paid attention to, intent on observation, she walked offstage toward him, before turning to go to the staff room. He knew she was going to change for the last number, as were all the other contestants.
He scanned the light scaffolding and his heart stopped. Only one tech was atop the metal structure instead of the two who were always present throughout the entire pageant. A movement in his peripheral vision made him turn to the left. He immediately spotted a man dressed in jeans, black top, and most chilling, a mask. He recognized the clothing as that of one of the lighting techs, Ben. Ben stood with his hand on the main stage light switch. Holden hit the comms unit on his chest and alerted MVPD, already surrounding the building as a precaution.
Precaution had turned to deadly intent.
“Stop!” Weapon drawn, he ran toward Ben, perpendicular to his course, planning to cut him off before Ben got any farther. Before he reached Bella.
The stage went black and Holden was plunged into darkness.
A piercing scream split the air.
Bella.
“Shut up or you’re dead now, bitch.” Ben’s voice was so close, above the cacophony of screams from the contestants. Holden reached for his phone, intent to use the flashlight function. As he enabled it a heavy blow to his head made everything go dark.
* * *
“You’re mine now. Stay quiet and I won’t kill your boy toy.” Ben, one of two lighting techs, had her by the hair, the barrel of his gun pressed painfully to her temple. He was forcing her to walk through the school’s dark, empty corridors. He didn’t falter, as if he’d practiced this escape route. As if he meant business.
Keep him talking. Do not let him move you.
Holden’s words were her guiding light, gave her a sense of purpose.
“What did you do to him? And why do you want to hurt me?”
He yanked hard and she saw splatters of light across her vision. Sirens outside and the school fire alarm inside sounded; the emergency lighting came on, giving the hallway a dim but serviceable light.
“I said for you to. Shut. Up!” He pushed her into the wood shop, forcing her to land on her knees. His foot landed on her lower back and she almost passed out from the agony.
Stay conscious. Don’t worry about your kidney.
Scrambling to move away from him as he turned and locked the door, then hauled a workbench in front of it, she looked around the room. The only other exits were the windows, an entire wall of them, through which she saw the blue-and-red lights of the LEA surrounding the building. The only other way out was a bay of double doors where the lumber was delivered. She recalled that it was a loading dock in the back of the school.
Ben didn’t seem as worried about her escaping at this point, as he focused on fortifying the door. Which meant only one thing.
He was going to kill her here and now.
Please, please, Holden. I need you.
* * *
“Holden, where did he take her?” Holden opened his eyes to his best friend standing over him. Spencer’s voice came through a deep fog. He ignored the monster headache that originated from the back of his head. Groggily, he stood, and was ready to make for the staff room.
“She’s not onstage, Holden.” Spencer put his hands on Holden’s chest, stopped him. “Think, man. Where would he take her? We’ve got the other contestants and judges secure in the breakroom, but since the lights went out no one saw where he took her.” Spencer confirmed the safety scenario they’d practiced with the contestants earlier this week, just in case, which had them gather in the breakroom if it was too dangerous to risk exiting the building. “The entire school is surrounded. He’s not going to get out of here alive.”
“Then he’ll kill her, if he hasn’t already. I need you to make sure no one gets out of this building. I’m going to find her.” Holden felt like another person was saying the words. It couldn’t be true. He couldn’t lose Bella. His head cleared and he had to move, had to save her. He began to run.
There was no sign of Bella or Ben anywhere, and he strained to listen for a scream or voice but it was impossible with the school’s emergency alarm clanging. The hallways seemed like one long row of tiled floors after another.
Until a sparkle caught his eye.
Several sequins lay scattered across the floor, in front of the industrial-arts-classroom door. Bella had sequins on her evening gown.
He paused, not wanting to risk barging in and forcing the killer to do anything stupid out of surprise. There were two doors, and he knew that one opened inward, the other swung out into the corridor. It was to allow for maximum-sized furniture and equipment to move through it with ease. The door that swung inward had a window, and as he peered inside he saw the door was blocked by a pile of wood—and he saw Ben’s back, turned to pick up more wood to pile on. Bella lay crumpled at the base of the teacher’s desk in the front of the room.
Please be breathing.
He quickly texted Spencer what he saw and then made a decision that would mean Bella’s life or death. If she was still alive.
She’s alive.
She had to be.
* * *
Bella wanted to scream for Holden to run away when she saw his figure through the classroom-door window. But she had to move very, very slowly, while Ben continued to pile wood atop the workbench. She noted that the bench had wheels, and she hadn’t seen him lock them.
He wasn’t such a smart killer, after all.
Slowly, inch by inch, she got to all fours, then her knees, then when Ben went farther back in the classroom to get more lumber, she surged forward and with all her might pushed on the workbench. It didn’t move an inch.
A sob escaped her, a fatal mistake. Within a split second Ben had her by the hair again, and was screaming in her face. His spittle hit her skin, his face flushed with rage. But his eyes remained flat. Cold. Unemotional.
He was going to kill her.
A loud crack stopped Ben in his tracks, and like an automaton he dropped his hold on her hair and kept his arm around her neck as he turned his head toward the noise.
Holden leaped into the room sideways, the bench now at a sidewise angle, his weapon pointed at Ben’s head. But Ben had already pulled her around in front of him as a shield.
“Don’t make a move or I’ll kill both of you.” Ben’s voice was full of rage and intent. “Put your gun down.”
“Drop her. I’m an expert shot.” Holden’s hair was mussed, his tuxedo a mess; he was her avenging angel. But it was too late.
Bella didn’t make a sound, but her gaze never left Holden’s. He was focused
on Ben, never wavering.
“You won’t get her. She’s mine. You don’t deserve her. You don’t know how to treat a woman.” Ben yanked on her hair, rubbed his cheek against hers. She wanted to close her eyes tight but everything depended on this moment. On how she and Holden communicated.
An explosion, then the back cargo door blew open. She felt Ben startle next to her, not as much as she was sure she had, but it was enough. She dropped to her knees, giving Holden a clear shot.
Holden fired.
* * *
Holden watched in slow motion as Ben dropped his weapon and collapsed to the ground. He wouldn’t be getting back up. Without hesitation he ran over to Bella as MVPD and EMTs surged into the classroom. She stood halfway up to meet him.
They clung to one another for a brief, endless moment until Spencer burst into the classroom, followed by several other MVPD officers.
“Stay here—I’ve got to get his confession.” Holden kissed the top of her head and walked over to where Ben lay on the ground. Spencer had already kicked his gun out of arm’s reach but Ben was too weak for that. Spencer had just finished reading Ben his Miranda rights. Holden had to act fast. He looked at Spencer. “Be my witness.”
“Got you.”
Holden knelt down next to the man who’d terrorized three pageants, killed two women, and almost killed Bella.
“I’m FBI Agent Holden St. Clair. Do you have anything you want to say?”
“I only did this for my mother. She didn’t want me to love anyone but her, but it was so lonely after she died.”
“What did you do, Ben?”
“I just wanted my mother closer.”
“Did your mother have red hair, Ben?”
“Yes, and her green eyes were so beautiful. Just like the beautiful women in the other two pageants, and Bella.” A sneer moved across Ben’s face as he focused on Holden, seeming to remember that Holden had stopped his efforts to take Bella. “I was so close. You ruined my chance with Bella. She looks the most like my mother did.”
