Contents
Title Page
Copyright
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CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The Temptation of Silence
Phineas and Liam, Book Two
V. J. Chambers
THE TEMPTATION OF SILENCE
© copyright 2021 by V. J. Chambers
http://vjchambers.com
Punk Rawk Books
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CHAPTER ONE
The woman was naked.
Body, Detective Haysle Dawson amended in her head. It’ll probably be easier if I think of it as a body.
The body was naked.
It was lying face down on the hotel-room bed, the covers askew, pulled into a ball at the foot of the bed, the sheets below smeared here and there with blood.
The body’s hair was blond, and it was bloody too. The body had been stabbed in the back of the neck—
No, this is getting too weird. I think I should call her a woman again.
The woman had been stabbed in the back of the neck, a knife wound that had instantly killed her. Hopefully, it had been swift and there hadn’t been too much pain. From the looks of things, it didn’t seem as though there had been a struggle, so maybe she hadn’t even seen it coming.
It was strange, Dawson thought, because as much as she knew about the way that Phineas Slater killed his victims, she’d never really given a thought to that part. Maybe she was too squeamish to think too deeply about the last moments of those victims’ deaths.
Slater’s other victims had all been found buried by the highway, hidden. This time, however, Slater hadn’t bothered to hide. He had escaped from prison a month ago.
She and Liam Emerson, Slater’s former… friend? Lover? Object of obsession? Well, current object of obsession, she supposed. Anyway, the two of them had followed Slater’s trail to Delaware, to the college where he and Liam had been roommates, and there had been a confrontation.
Slater had gotten away, and there had been nothing since then.
Now, suddenly, a body.
And just in case Dawson wanted to possibly lay the blame on a copycat or to question who was responsible, Slater had left a personal note, taped to the body, just above her bare buttocks.
It said, Hello, Haysle.
Usually, Slater left quotes from a fanfic called This Love taped to his victims.
He’s evolving, she thought.
Of course, he’d been unpredictable since he’d escaped from prison. Serial killers usually followed their own twisted rituals, killing in the same way over and over again. But Slater had gone insane upon his escape. Now, the case against him was more confusing than ever, and it spanned several states and nearly twenty years.
If that wasn’t bad enough, he was killing again.
And he was back in Cape Christopher, Virginia, the sleepy coastal town where all this had begun.
Without meaning to, her fingers strayed to the gunshot wound on her arm, now mostly healed. Slater was the one who’d shot her. When she read the note on the woman’s body, Dawson could hear Slater’s voice, lilting and confident.
In spite of herself, she shuddered.
“You all right?” came the voice of Mitch Clark, another homicide detective who worked in Cape Christopher.
She straightened. “Fine.” She didn’t want Clark to think any less of her for that involuntary shudder. The truth was that she didn’t have a background in homicide. However, this case was definitely hers now. She was heavily involved.
“Just saying,” said Clark. “If it was my name taped to the body, I don’t know if I’d be okay.”
She let out a shaky laugh. “Right, well…”
“You know,” said Clark, “I still have a hard time picturing him doing this. He always seemed like such a nice guy.” Slater used to work for the Cape Christopher Police Department. He knew the ins and outs of law enforcement.
He’d left this body here, not even attempting to hide the evidence, because he knew it didn’t matter anymore. They had enough evidence to get him convicted, and he was a perfect candidate for the death penalty. There was no reason for him to hide anymore. Once they caught him, it was all over.
“Well, I have to admit I don’t have any trouble picturing it,” she said. “The last time I saw him, he seemed violent and unhinged. I’d expect that man to be capable of pretty much anything.”
“True,” Clark agreed. “But you’d think he’d be smarter than this.”
She raised her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“Well, he’s escaped prison. We were closing in on him for a while, but we lost his trail. He got away clean. If I were him, I would have gone far, far away where no one knew anything about me. And if I was going to stay close to home, I sure as hell wouldn’t start killing again. That only motivates us to find him.”
“I don’t think he can help himself,” she muttered. She remembered Slater sitting at the table in the underground bunker where he had shot her, the table laden with food, the hoarse need in Slater’s voice when he ordered Liam to eat for him. Slater was definitely unhinged, that was for sure. He was dangerous, but he had his weaknesses. Being driven to kill like this, that was a weakness.
Clark’s face twisted in disgust. “You think we’ll find evidence he violated this body, too, then.”
“I have it on good authority that it’s about the rape,” said Dawson, thinking of what Liam had told her about Slater. “He started with rape and then graduated to killing. It’s been suggested he only kills them because he wants to be very, very sure they don’t wake up in the middle of it. He likes them at his mercy.”
Clark took a step back, looking even more disgusted.
Dawson wondered why she wasn’t more disgusted. Maybe she was already getting desensitized to this.
“But what about that bouquet of severed limbs you found? How’s that fit in?”
“It doesn’t,” she admitted. “I don’t understand any of it.” She was no expert on serial killers, but she had spent the last month of her life boning up on the psychology, learning everything she could, and there was no real precedent for what they were seeing here. Slater’s progression from drugging women and raping them to killing them and raping them seemed natural enough when taken in the context of most serial killers. But to go from raping passed out girls to killing them and taking their limbs as trophies and keeping them on ice for decades and then back to not taking trophies that… well, it didn’t fit.
Killers had rituals. They had signatures.
Apparently, Slater liked to sometimes sign his work with his left hand.
She had a lot of questions about this case, and she knew there was only one person who had the answers. Slater himself.
So, she had to hope he’d made a mistake at this scene and left them some clue that would help her find him and
track him down. The sooner Slater was back behind bars, the better.
* * *
Liam Emerson hadn’t heard any news about Phineas Slater in weeks now, and it was driving him mad.
He had been cooperating with the CCPD on the case, even going so far as to travel with Detective Haysle Dawson in order to track Finn down. But then they’d found Finn… or maybe Finn had lured Liam to him. Liam wasn’t necessarily sure how it had all happened.
In retrospect, when he thought back on it, it seemed positively insane.
He hated Finn. He was afraid of Finn. He sometimes fantasized about Finn being dead. He sometimes fantasized about being the person who killed Finn, in fact.
And yet…
Back in Delaware, a month ago, he hadn’t felt as if he’d had any other choice than to go to Finn. It had seemed inevitable, and so he’d met the other man and allowed himself to be handcuffed and tied. He’d been prepared to surrender to Finn in whatever way necessary, even if that meant that Finn stabbed him to death.
That was the insane part, because Liam didn’t want to die.
All right, well, all of it was the insane part.
Detective Dawson had suggested that Liam was brainwashed, and Liam had shoved this idea aside, but the evidence didn’t seem to support his assertion of his own clear-headedness, did it?
Dawson clearly agreed. Liam hadn’t heard from her in weeks.
Of course, if there was nothing new in Finn’s case, there was probably no reason to hear from her. And she had been the one who had insisted that the kiss they’d shared could never happen again, though he had been the one to suggest they pretend it never happened.
Not that he had any business getting involved with someone when he was such a mess.
Liam hadn’t heard from Finn either, not yet, but he knew that he would.
Not hearing from Dawson was a disappointment. It made him feel anxious and concerned, because he didn’t know what would happen next.
Not hearing from Finn was different. He knew it was going to happen, but he didn’t know when or how, and it created a different sort of anxiety.
He drowned both of them the same way, with lots of bourbon. He’d run out of Tylenol with codeine, which had caused withdrawal symptoms in the form of insomnia. He had decided to fight this with more bourbon, which meant that he was either drunk or hungover all the time now. That wasn’t much different to the way things used to be, he supposed.
It had now been two and a half months since he’d been freed from the dog crate in the underground bunker where Finn had kept him prisoner. Once he’d been released and Finn locked away, he’d been plagued by thoughts of Finn, an awful fascination, and he’d tried to drown it out with drinking and pills. Now, Finn was running around free somewhere, and it was all worse.
That morning, Liam woke up, and there was something on the news about a body of a woman found in a hotel. It wasn’t really morning, of course. Liam kept odd hours. It was nearer to noon when he finally opened his eyes. He read the new story, and it wasn’t confirmed that it was Finn’s work, but Liam knew it was.
He immediately checked the fanfiction website where a story by Finn was being uploaded entitled Bosom Friends.
No new chapters.
Well, that didn’t mean anything. Perhaps Finn had decided to leave behind that means of communicating. The body had been left there by Finn. Liam was sure of it.
And when his phone rang, he was sure it was going to be Dawson, calling him to keep him updated on the case, but he didn’t recognize the phone number. Maybe Dawson had a new number?
He answered it.
For some reason, the sound of Finn’s voice caught him completely off guard.
“Morning, tiger,” said Finn.
Liam choked. He couldn’t find words to speak. His jaw worked, but no sound came out.
“I guess it’s still morning,” said Finn. “Late morning. I didn’t want to call too early and wake you up. You didn’t turn off the lights in your apartment until the wee hours.”
Finn was watching him? Finn had been close enough to see the lights in his windows? Liam’s hands started to shake.
“You there, tiger?” said Finn. “Say something.”
“Finn,” said Liam in a strangled voice.
“You are there,” said Finn. “Are you ready yet?”
Liam licked his lips. His mouth was dry. He was seated at the desk he had set up in his living room, where he did his video editing for the YouTube videos he created to make a living. He fumbled on the desk’s surface until he found a bottle of bourbon and he took a long pull from it.
The liquid worked its fiery way into his stomach, and a pleasant glow seemed to surround him.
“Finn,” said Liam again, his voice stronger. “Why are you calling me?”
“I miss you,” said Finn in a low voice. “Everything’s going sideways, Liam. I don’t know what to do anymore. I know eventually you’re going to be ready. Are you ready now?”
“Ready for what? To kill with you? You know I’m never going to be ready for that.”
“Is it because of the tranny detective?” said Finn, sounding resigned.
“I wish you wouldn’t say that about her.”
“Is there a woke term for someone who’s so confused about her gender she uses testosterone like a light switch and keeps switching back and forth? Boy? Girl? Boy? Girl?”
Liam decided there was no point in arguing with Finn about this. Detective Dawson had thought she was a man and transitioned. She’d changed her entire life, and when she realized that it wasn’t right, that she truly was a woman, she had gone too far to feel as though it was easily undone. Eventually, however, she’d gone back to her birth gender. Liam, however, was drawn to her precisely because of the effects of ten years on testosterone had left on her body. He loved the juxtaposition of femininity and masculinity that was written on her body. Her deep voice coupled with her small frame. The hair on her face that she still needed to shave against her delicate jawbone. His body was feeling tight just thinking about it.
“You leave Haysle alone, huh?” said Liam, taking another pull from the bourbon bottle. “This is between us. You and me. No reason to bring anyone else into it.”
“If we’re going to kill someone together, tiger, we’ll need someone to kill.”
“Not Haysle Dawson.”
“But someone else?”
“What’s this number you’re calling me from?”
“Oh, please.” Finn let out a groan. “Don’t be like that about it. If you’re like that about it, then I’ve got to be threatening, and it changes the dynamic of everything between us. Can you just promise me that you won’t tell anyone I called?”
“Sure,” Liam lied smoothly.
Finn laughed. “If only I could believe you, tiger.”
“You can trust me, Finn. You turned me into your little automaton somehow, after all. I guess I live to do your bidding.”
“If that was true, then you’d be with me right now, here, in the flesh. I could touch you.” Finn’s voice dropped in pitch.
Liam felt a tremor go up his spine. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, which somehow made it worse.
“Are you eating breakfast?” Finn inquired in the same tone.
“Just bourbon,” said Liam. His voice was softer too for some reason. “Breakfast of champions.”
“Do you have anything to eat in your house?” Finn’s voice was a rasp.
“Uh…” Liam thought about it. “Not really. Some bread, I guess.”
“Make yourself some toast. Do you have any jam?”
“No.”
“Honey?”
“I’ve got butter, Finn.”
“It’ll have to do.” Finn sighed. “Are you getting up? Are you going to the kitchen?”
Liam was. He sighed, annoyed that he was following Finn’s orders. “Yes.”
“Good.” Finn was pleased. “Talk to me about it. Tell me what you’re doing.”
&nb
sp; “Are you out there looking in my window?”
“No,” said Finn. “I’m somewhere else.”
Liam wasn’t sure he liked that answer. He took the phone away from his ear and put it on speaker phone. “I’m opening the refrigerator.”
“You keep your bread in the refrigerator?” Finn was amused.
“I live alone, and it takes me a while to get through a loaf. I don’t want it to grow mold.”
“And you don’t eat much, what with all the drinking you’re doing, do you?”
Liam didn’t answer this question. “I’m putting the bread in the toaster.”
“Two slices,” said Finn. “You shouldn’t drink so much, Liam. It’s not good for you.”
Liam grimaced but got out another slice of bread. He pushed down the lever on the toaster and both pieces of bread disappeared.
“You don’t have anything else to eat with the toast?” Finn asked wistfully. “Do you have an avocado?”
Liam snorted.
“The next time I see you, tiger, I’m making you avocado toast,” said Finn. “I’m not a great cook, but it’s one thing I do well.”
“What is there to do with avocado toast? It mostly involves spreading, right?”
“Not if you slice the avocado.”
“Did you really call just to listen to me eat toast?”
“I thought it was a good place to start,” said Finn. “What are you wearing?”
Liam snorted.
“You want to take your shirt off?”
“No,” said Liam firmly.
Finn smirked. “Maybe I’ll take my shirt off.”
“I’m going to hang up.”
“Don’t,” said Finn. “Not yet. Eat the toast for me, please, tiger.”
Liam was silent. He gazed at the toaster.
Seconds ticked by.
The toast popped up.
“I heard that,” came the low, amused sound of Finn’s voice through the phone.
“So, where are you?” said Liam finally. “You want me to ask, don’t you?”
“Butter first,” said Finn.
“Fine.” Liam got the butter out. It was a tub of butter mixed with canola oil so that it would be spreadable out of the refrigerator. He spread butter on the two pieces of toast. “Okay, the toast is buttered.”
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