by Jen J. Danna
Terror swept through Leigh and the palm that clutched the switchblade went damp. She forced herself to stay calm, knowing she’d only have one chance.
“Let’s give it a try shall we? This will give you insight into what my victims suffered that you’d never get otherwise. Think of it as a chance to share what they experienced. You said you wanted to understand.” His voice was an intimate hiss, as if he was sharing a secret with her.
As he leaned over her, his fingers moving to the buttons of her shirt, Leigh pulled her hand away from her side, turning it over and twisting the knife hidden in the palm of her hand to find the release button. The blade snapped into position with a sharp click. Thrusting upwards, she buried the knife in his forearm, feeling it thrust cleanly through flesh, then stutter as the serrated edge of the blade dragged over bone. Bradford gave a scream of agony, pulling desperately away from the knife, his own knife landing lengthwise on her chest and then rolling sideways to clatter onto the table.
Suddenly the explosion of a gunshot filled the room. Leigh jerked away in shock as Bradford gave another scream and dropped to the floor.
Craning her neck to see behind her, Leigh looked around frantically, her eyes finally alighting on Matt as he rose shakily from the floor, his Glock gripped tight in one hand. He held onto the edge of the table as he steadied himself. Rivulets of blood ran over his right temple and ear and dripped down his neck to stain the collar of his shirt. He was ashen and covered in blood, but he was alive. Bradford must have been too quick when checking to make sure he was dead.
Matt circled the table, his Glock fixed steadily on Bradford, who writhed on the floor, whimpering pathetically and clutching his ruined knee. “For someone who likes to dish out pain, you certainly can’t take it.” He set his boot down on Bradford’s shin and Bradford howled at the pressure. “Not that you’re in any shape to run, but I’m just going to make sure you stay down.” He twisted to look at Leigh. “You wanted him taken alive so I shot him in the knee from under the table. We have to restrain him. Where are your cuffs?”
Leigh managed to gurgle from behind the gag.
He turned and squinted at her as if trying to focus on her face, his gaze sharpening when he saw the gag. “Sorry, couldn’t see that from the floor.” Keeping constant pressure on Bradford’s leg, he set the Glock down by her shoulder, struggling with the knot behind her head as his unsteady fingers kept fumbling. “Son of a bitch, this is tight.” He eyed the bloody knife still clutched in her fist, before reaching across her to pull it from her grasp. When her hand stayed in a death grip around the handle, he closed his fingers over hers, stroking lightly. “Leigh, you can let go now. It’s safe.” But she still didn’t release the blade. “Leigh!” She blinked once, focusing on his face. He gentled his voice. “I need you to let go of the knife.”
Her fingers instantly loosened and he pulled it from her grip. He stared warily at the bloody blade and then bent out of Leigh’s line of sight. After a few seconds, he straightened. “I’m sure you don’t want his blood smeared on you, so I wiped it off on his sweatshirt,” he explained, grinning, a flash of white teeth in a blood-streaked face. “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t be enjoying this, but a tiny part of me is. Don’t worry, it’ll pass. Probably around the time my head stops throbbing.” He bent over Leigh, deftly sliding the blade in between her cheek and the gag, careful to keep the serrated backside of the knife below her jaw to avoid cutting her. It only took gentle pressure and the cloth sliced apart cleanly over the razor-sharp blade.
Matt set the knife down beside his gun and pulled the gag from between her teeth.
Leigh made a small sound of relief. “Thanks.” She spit out bits of thread and lint, glancing at the blood-stained length of material that Matt held. She winced. “I don’t want to know what was on that.”
Matt carelessly tossed it onto the worktable against the back wall. “Good thought.” He glanced down again, but Bradford hadn’t moved even an inch under his boot. “Cuffs?”
Leigh arched her back off the table. “Under me. At the small of my back.”
“I’ll get you free in a second.” He smiled sheepishly before slipping his hand behind her back to free her cuffs from the small pouch. He unsnapped the cover, dragging them from under her. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Get him secured and then worry about me.”
Matt dropped from view. She shifted sideways on the table as far as her restraints would allow so she could see. Matt flipped Bradford face down on the ground binding his arms behind him, before rolling him over to lie on his bound arms. Blood soaked one of Bradford’s sleeves and one pant leg was tattered and splattered with blood and tissue.
Bradford started to swear and Matt bent over him. “Shut up,” he snarled, but then looked thoughtful, as if reconsidering. “Or maybe you’d like to keep talking. Then I’ll have one more go at you and I’ll make sure it ends up in the report that it was all part of the initial struggle.” He reached over to the worktable and picked up the baseball bat that lay at one end, the end darkened almost black with dried blood. “You used this on your last victim. How do you think it would feel? Want to give it a try?”
Bradford glared at him, but went quiet.
Matt set down the bat and quickly moved around the table, winking at Leigh to let her know he never intended to use the bat. He made fast work of unfastening her restraints, first her hands and then her feet, showing her the small, sturdy carabineer clips that had been used to lock the sections of chain together. Leigh pushed herself into a sitting position, rubbing her wrists. Her fingers and left palm were smeared with her own blood. She hurriedly wiped it off on her pants.
“You okay?” Matt’s eyes shifted from her abraded wrists to the large purple bruise that was spreading across her jaw.
“Yeah.” She reached up and rubbed her fingers along her jaw, wincing. “For such a skinny guy, he hits like a sledgehammer.” She eyed Matt’s gun. “Where did that come from?”
He shrugged. “Hidden under my shirt. You didn’t tell me not to bring it this time.”
“Thank God for small favors.” She jumped off the table and then retrieved her own gun from under the shelf.
She returned to stand by Bradford’s head, quickly taking in his injuries. “We’re going to need an ambulance.” She glanced over at Matt. “How bad is he?”
Matt squatted down beside Bradford’s bloodied knee. “The arm wound is deep, but you missed both the ulnar and the radial arteries. Not enough blood loss for that. But the knee …” He took in the damage from his own shot with clinical detachment, clearly feeling no remorse. “If the blood flow to his foot isn’t good, he might lose the limb.”
Bradford made a strangled sound.
“It would be the least you deserve,” Matt snapped. “Call it in. I’ll keep him covered.” Matt moved to stand at Bradford’s head, holding his gun steady on his forehead. He met the cold hatred in Bradford’s eyes and smiled back brightly. “Damned frustrating to be at someone else’s mercy, isn’t it, Bradford?” The smile died. “Get used to it.”
Moving to the worktable, Leigh bent to retrieve her jacket before dragging the heavy door open. Late afternoon daylight flooded through the open doorway. She hurriedly called in her request for backup and a full paramedic team with a second team kept on standby.
She turned around to see the disgruntled look on Matt’s face and couldn’t help but smile.
“He may need the paramedics but I don’t,” he said stubbornly.
She gently clasped his head in both hands, tipped it sideways so she could see the wound better. The gaping dark gash was inches long and steadily oozing blood. Blood matted his hair and continued to drip down over the side of his face. She tilted his head back up and met his eyes. “Yes, you do.” When he started to protest, she cut him off. “You can’t see it. I can. You need stitches. They’ll want to send you to the ER for that. And you lost consciousness, so they might want to keep you overnight for observation.” She tu
rned away so he couldn’t see her lips twitch, but she could imagine the outraged look on his face. “Keep watching him. I want to take a look around.”
She crossed to the worktable. She had caught a brief glimpse of a collage of photographs and newspaper articles before. She stood before it, trying to take it all in. The wall was covered with newspaper articles from local papers about the missing women. The most recent articles concerned the discovery of Tracy Kingston’s body and the multiple graves.
But the picture Leigh focused on was of the press conference. Law enforcement and legal personnel were grouped outside of the Essex Police Department, the press officer in front speaking to the media. What drew her attention was the hand-drawn circle in red ink around her own face.
She turned to find Bradford watching her. “Is this how I caught your eye, Bradford?”
“You ruined everything,” he sneered. “You stopped the game. I would love to have added you to my collection.” His gaze flicked to the wall of newspaper articles. “You deserve to die slowly and in agony.”
“Hey.” Matt forcibly rammed the toe of his boot into Bradford’s shoulder, smiling in satisfaction at his grunt in pain. “That’s enough.”
Leigh held out a hand. “No, that’s okay, Matt. Let him talk.” She turned back to the trussed man on the floor. “Was that all it was to you? A game?”
“I wanted to make them do my bidding. And in the end they were almost all malleable. Young minds can be bent so easily. They even thought it was their own idea.”
Leigh looked at him in disbelief. “You’re insane, Bradford. But not insane enough to make a plea of it. You blew it when you had someone else pose as you today. That shows a level of forethought that a crazy man simply doesn’t have. So, who was it? You might as well tell us. I can guarantee he’s currently singing like a canary to anybody who will listen.”
“He’s a guy I work with,” Bradford spat. “I told him I sold my bike to someone down in Plymouth, but the buyer wanted the bike right away and I couldn’t get it to him because I had to work the next few days straight. I paid him one hundred and fifty dollars to ride the bike down there and then to take the bus back.” He laughed cruelly. “He’s an idiot and had no idea what he was getting into. I was hoping that the cops would take him down the minute he was spotted.”
“Let me assure you he’s alive and well and in custody. You knew I got a good look at your helmet and had reported it. Anyone caught with that helmet riding the bike with your license plate on it had a big red bull’s-eye on his back. Considering the current body count, any cop would simply pull him over and ask questions later, once he was back at headquarters.”
“I fooled them long enough to catch you off guard,” Bradford crowed.
“Not well enough though or you wouldn’t be the one lying cuffed on the ground,” Leigh said easily. She turned back to the wall. “And you know what you’ve done here with your ‘trophy wall’? You’re going to help us identify your victims. Help us bring them home to their families.”
She leaned down over Bradford, feeling a kick of satisfaction as she made eye contact with him. “We’ve got you, you son of a bitch. And if I have my way, you’ll never see freedom again.” She smiled when he started to struggle against his restraints again in fury. “You have the right to remain silent …”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: SALT MARSH MOSQUITO
Salt Marsh Mosquito: Aedes sollicitans; a common marsh insect that lays its eggs in the high marsh. The female Aedes requires a blood meal for egg production and can spread disease through its bite. Mature eggs require an extremely high tide or heavy rains before hatching.
Monday, 10:54 P.M.
Abbott residence
Salem, Massachusetts
With a low sigh of pleasure, Leigh sank down on the edge of her bed.
The day was over. The case was closed and the real Neil Bradford was safely in custody.
She swirled the pale liquid in her glass mug, the scents of cinnamon, ginger, and cloves wafting into the air. She took a long, slow sip of the mulled wine before setting the mug down on the bedside table. She stood, pulling back the duvet to crawl into bed. All she wanted for the next half hour was to unwind in the soothing quiet of her bedroom with the book she’d been ignoring for two weeks while—
Her cell phone rang and she groaned at the interruption. She glanced at the number, but didn’t recognize it. “Leigh Abbott.”
“It’s Tucker.”
Her heart sank. “Tucker, I just got home after one hell of a day and it’s late. All I really want to do is have a drink to celebrate the end of the case, relax for a few minutes, and go to bed. Do you really need me tonight?”
“Kicking back with a beer?”
“No. Mulled white wine with pear brandy. It’s quite lovely.”
Tucker made a mock retching noise. “What are you, some kind of girl?”
“I’m hurt that you never noticed. Now, if you’re done insulting my celebratory beverage of choice, why don’t you touch base with me tomorrow—”
“You need to see this now.” All trace of humor vanished from Tucker’s tone, making Leigh snap to attention.
“What have you got?”
“You remember how we got the warrant for Bradford’s ISP and that I’ve been tracking his Internet traffic? Well, I found something. Something that’s going to make you wish that your mulled wine was Jack Daniel’s because you’re going to need it to read this.”
“What is it?”
“The sick bastard kept a personal blog. An online journal of his activities.”
Sitting back down on the bed, Leigh stared blankly at a watercolor of a wind-swept ocean view on her bedroom wall. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would he take such a risk? It’s not a diary he kept under his bed. A blog is something that’s out there on the Internet for public consumption. What if someone else read it and turned him in?”
“I think that was part of the thrill. ‘Look at me, getting away with all this torture and death and mayhem, and no one can catch me,’ ” Tucker mimicked in a sneering tone. “Some of these guys even get off on going back and reliving their kills, so he might have done it for that as well. Also, if it’s out in the ‘cloud,’ he can access it from anywhere to add to it or savor past posts. But he was smart enough to take some precautions. For starters, he was careful to have his domain hosted outside of the U.S. In this case, the server is in Russia. Whether there are connections there to the shady side of Russian crime, I’m not sure, but I’ll be looking into it. He had the site locked down, but not so well that I couldn’t hack in. And no one else accessed it but him, probably because only he knew about it. You definitely need to read it before you interview him again.”
“I haven’t interviewed him at all yet. Kepler and I are going to do that tomorrow morning. Bradford just came out of surgery. Nothing we got out of him today would be allowed in any courtroom because he would have still been under the influence of the drugs they gave him.”
“Then make sure you read it before you talk to him. Have you got a pen and paper to write down the URL? I’ve changed his password, so you’ll need that too. For security’s sake, I don’t want to send this information to you electronically.”
“Hold on.” Leigh opened the drawer of her bedside table and pulled out the small pad of paper and pen that she kept there. “Okay, go ahead.”
Tucker rattled off the website, screen name, and password. “If you have any problems logging in, give me a call. Otherwise, happy reading.”
“Thanks.” Leigh’s body sagged, her head bent, and her shoulders stooped in exhaustion. She glanced regretfully at her mulled wine and the book sitting beside it on the bedside table. Apparently, her day wasn’t over quite yet.
She retrieved her laptop and settled into bed, propped on pillows against the wrought iron headboard while her computer booted up.
Maybe it was because it was late and she was impatient, but her computer seemed slower than usual. She glance
d at her clock, then, on a whim, she picked up her phone and dialed.
Matt picked up on the third ring. “Hey.”
“Hey. I’m not calling too late, am I?”
“It’s okay. I’m not settled in yet.”
Concern rose. “Is it your head? Are you in pain?”
He chuckled. “It’s kind of achy but it’s not that bad.”
“You should be in bed already. I shouldn’t have called.”
“If I was ready to be in bed, I’d be there. I’m just lying on the chaise, doing a little stargazing. It’s soothing.”
She could picture him lying stretched out on the padded chaise in his darkened room, the shutters thrown open and a beam of moonlight falling over his body. “You had a tough day. I’m sorry I didn’t see you earlier. I didn’t want to leave Bradford unguarded for even a second and by the time I could get away to check on you, you’d already been released.”
“Don’t worry about it. I actually came up to find you before I left, but I saw you down the hall in what looked like a serious conversation with Kepler, so I didn’t stay. You had a job to do and I knew we’d hook up when you got free.” Matt’s tone was easy and it soothed some of Leigh’s remaining tension.
Leigh tipped her head back against the pillows and closed her eyes, giving herself a moment to relax. “A doctor checked you out? There’s no risk of concussion?”
“No, Mom. It’s all good. What about you? You blacked out for a while there too.”
“I’m fine. I don’t even have a headache.”
“Glad to hear it. Did you interview Bradford today?”
“No. He was triaged and then went almost immediately into surgery. And he was in no shape afterwards to be interviewed. Kepler and I have that booked for first thing tomorrow morning in his hospital room. In the meantime, Gloucester P.D. will have a man stationed at his door 24/7. Not that he could run far on that leg.”
