by Stone, Mary
She pressed the gun against his chest harder.
“All right, I’ll do it. I can do it. I have everything I need.” Tense, he gestured toward the door they’d entered through. “I even have the infusion pump and crash kit from the ambulance I robbed in the trunk.”
“Great,” Katarina snapped. “Get to work.”
He stood in place, nostrils flared, breaths short. Eyes slightly wide in fear, he somehow managed to defy her order. “It’s a really bad idea to put him in a coma in this setting. He could die.”
She slid the muzzle of the gun down to his belly button, her smile widening. “Are you saying you can’t do it?”
“I’m not saying that I can’t. Thiopental will knock him out quick, and a ketamine drip will keep him sedated. But even on the lowest dose, long-term ketamine doesn’t come without risks. I’ll need to monitor him.”
Inching the gun lower, Katarina pressed the weapon against his lower abdomen, delighted when he swallowed hard and licked his lips. He could easily disarm her, but he was a coward. This flaw was what had caught her attention in the first place. A man like him could be easily subdued with no more than idle threats. He was a pawn. Disposable once he no longer served a purpose. The best part: he knew it.
“Can you do those things and work on getting this place ready for more guests?” She drew out the last word. Arching one manicured brow, she slid the barrel of the gun down his lower torso, inch by inch.
His breath caught as she stopped her movements just above the place he would prize above all. “Yes, yes I can.”
He winced as she shoved the muzzle of the gun against his crotch, using her thumb to disarm the safety.
Trembling, a single tear slid down his cheek and dropped onto her arm. Disgusted, she flicked the safety back on, and used his shirt to wipe the moisture away. Without warning, she swung her arm, catching the weakling’s cheek with the gun. A large welt rose immediately, turning an angry red as blood rushed to the injured tissue.
His breath caught, but he didn’t cry out. “Thank you, mistress.”
Katarina gritted her teeth. “You’re pathetic. Get that man under control, then get to work on fixing up these old kennels. I don’t have time for any more delays. I’m going to need more than one pitiful truck driver for sale to make any kind of money, and that means these cages have to be repaired.”
Brutus nodded, jowls flapping.
Shaking her head, she strutted away, leaving him to deal with it all. She had plans to make and a property to finish surveying. What she’d seen so far wasn’t promising. I’ve done more with less. The smile returned to her lips. She would make do with what she had. She always did.
Keys jingling in her hand, she bypassed the rest of the kennels and headed to the front of the building.
The main office proved to be in much better shape than the rest of the facility, the locked inner door opening more easily than the back door had. The room was empty save for a large, half-circle reception desk common in veterinarian and doctor’s offices. With room for four or five workstations along the curved desktop, a raised ledge about two feet higher gave clients a counter to fill out paperwork or write checks while they stood across from a receptionist. The workspace was bare but had been recently cleaned.
Sitting on the desk with her back against the raised ledge, Katarina crossed her legs, flopping her bag into her lap. She found Kingsley’s cheap plastic burner phone in the front pocket where she’d stashed it. Scrolling through the contacts that were nothing more than city names, she stopped on one labeled “Detroit playground” and pressed the call button.
A man’s voice answered on the second ring. “Hello?”
“I’m in need of your services.”
“Who is this? How did you get this number?”
Katarina leaned back until her head rested on the ten-inch surface behind her, glaring at the ceiling. “Are you through? Because I called to talk business. I know who you are and what you do. I have a proposition for you, and I can make it worth your while.”
The silence stretched out so long, Katarina checked the phone screen to see if the call had been disconnected.
The man cleared his throat, and in a voice much quieter than before, he finally spoke. “Where is the master? He’s on the FBI’s Most Wanted List.”
“The master is in the wind. He left me his phone and funds to rebuild from the ground up.” Not intentionally, she amended silently. But that wasn’t for this man to know. The less he knew about how Katarina had come to have both the phone and access to Kingsley’s offshore accounts, the better. “We’re flying completely under the radar, no one is going to expect the business to continue. The master spoke highly of you, and I’d like to offer you an opportunity I’m only extending to certain people. Do you want in, or do you want to be a peon for the rest of your life?”
“I’m not interested in taking a risk again, especially not with FBI heat. I have a family to support, and Arthur Fink’s capture was a little too close for comfort.”
“Did he finger you as an accomplice?”
The man scoffed, static hissing in her ear. “Hardly. I worked directly with the master only. If they weren’t referred by him, they didn’t get to use the retreat to enjoy their purchases.”
“Smart.”
“I am.”
“Then I’m guessing you’re smart enough to know the master would never give me access to your information unless we were close, and there was little risk.” The line went silent again, so Katarina pressed on. “I’m working from a short list of potential associates given to me by the master. This is an offer to be an equal partner in this latest venture, not just a cog in the wheel. I can move on to the next name, but the master insisted I call you first. The website is being rebuilt as we speak, and the first auction will take place shortly. You’ll receive a percentage of the sales if you decide to take advantage of this opportunity.”
“What do you need me for, if you have the master’s blessing?”
Katarina smiled. His bravado was pointless. If he wasn’t interested, he would’ve hung up the phone.
But he hadn’t, so Katarina stroked his ego, working him as effortlessly as if he was a puppet on a string. “I stayed in the background mostly, and I’m not as well-known as you are. I need someone to vouch for me. To bring back some of the clients we lost when the site was taken down.”
“They won’t come back.”
“Of course they will. They’re addicts. You know them better than I do. I need you to convince them to come back. I have a limited product auction coming up. Low reserves, quick delivery as a bonus for their loyalty. The master said if anyone could convince them it’s safe again, it’s you.”
This time, his response was instantaneous. “How much are you offering exactly?”
She bit her lip, heat swelling in her chest. She had him now. “Fifteen percent of the profits.”
He laughed, but stayed on the line. “That’s not a partnership. I won’t be your employee. If I’m going to get involved, I’ll need at least thirty percent.”
“Done.”
“Really?”
Men are so easy, she thought, her smile widening. “You’re a valuable part of the team. I have a few more calls to make. I’ll be in touch.”
She hung up before he could respond, using one of the many tricks Kingsley had taught her to control any situation.
Always make the first move.
Never let on that you need them more than they need you.
Her flippant attitude was more than just an act. If the man from Detroit wasn’t on board, there were plenty just like him willing to do what she needed.
The world was hers to command. And as long as Kingsley was in the wind—and she didn’t expect he’d blow back in any time soon—there was no one to stop her.
9
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Standing in the darkness at the threshold of my playroom, I took a deep breath, rev
eling in the scents of my pleasure.
Musty. The dampness of my secret hiding place for my pets was so hard to clear out of a building left too long on its own. Matters weren’t helped by the leaky faucet that would have to wait to be repaired now. But no matter, a little Chinese water torture of sorts only added to the ambiance.
Taking a step into the darkness, a tangy scent hit the back of my throat. Blood.
Then an acrid odor. Urine.
Anger bloomed in my chest. It would be up to me to clean up that mess, with the one I’d chosen to be at my beck and call now incapacitated. Even so, he couldn’t be trusted to perform his duties.
Flicking on the light switch, the center of my beloved warehouse was flooded with the light of a single bulb. Ahh, there they were. My puppets. The time was coming when they would have no choice but to act out their parts. They’d been resistant, but I’d brought them a treat to encourage them.
“Wake up, my darlings. Look at what I’ve got for you,” I singsonged, humming until there was movement from both.
Tied to the chair in the very spot she’d sat thirteen years ago, Ellie’s eyes blinked open, her green orbs widening as they landed on me.
Sitting directly across from her, still in a stupor, Gabe drooled on his own shirt sleeve. A dark stain marred his once khaki slacks—proof that he was weak, not an equal to the woman who had as yet refused to give him his death sentence.
But she would. Oh, she would.
Fishing the new concoction I’d had to pay too much for out of my pocket, I held it up to the light. Benztropine, mixed with a few other medications. I did so love to experiment. And I had all the time in the world. This time, I’d made sure no one would escape. Ellie had surprised me once, but I’d taken precautions. Which reminded me…
Taking out yet another new toy, I pressed the arm button, and the door behind me snapped with electricity. I could almost smell its power in the air. If either of my little ones attempted escape this time, they would need my handy remote. I grimaced at the thought of what my playroom would be reduced to if it filled with the stench of seared flesh.
“Dr. Kingsley.” Ever put together, Ellie stared at me across the space as if this was an interrogation room and not the place of her nightmares.
I chuckled at the sound of my name on my puppet’s lips. This was even sweeter than I’d imagined, and so much more thrilling not having to hide from the camera.
“My dear, tell your playmate to wake from his nap.” I nodded to Gabe, who frowned at the sound of my voice.
“He’s not my playmate. Gabe doesn’t deserve this. You can let him go. He’s nothing, not compared to what my family can give to you.” Leave it to Ellie to sacrifice all for another. Her hair had fallen from its French braid and now hung in kinked threads over her shoulders. So soft. I knew, because I’d touched it yesterday—the bite on my hand still stung.
Anger coursed through me again, and I went to her IV, injecting half of the liquid from the syringe.
“No!” Ellie thrashed in her bindings, but I’d doubled up on rope this time, and she could barely move. She’d weakened, but she was still so strong.
Walking to the man who had been my loyal assistant since I’d scraped him out of the gutter, I kicked him hard in the shin.
His head wobbled and he blinked up at me, sheer terror materializing in chocolate brown eyes. He was the weaker of the two, so I had gone easy on him thus far, not cutting deep enough to cause much blood loss. Just enough to send him into hysterics.
Reaching for his IV, the commotion behind me stilled. I pumped him full of my latest poison and turned to watch the show.
Ellie’s face, pale already in the dim light, seemed to have lost all color. Her lips, the ones I’d coaxed so long ago to order the bitch’s death formed one word, over and over.
Nick.
Ahh. Perfect. The hallucinogen was already taking effect, and what she was seeing now wasn’t Gabe at all, but her perfect Ken doll boyfriend.
“You know what to say, my puppet. Say it, and your pain will be over.” I ran my tongue over my lips, almost able to taste her blood.
Tears spilled over and ran down Ellie’s cheeks as she blinked rapidly, somehow knowing the vision was just that.
“Mama?” Gabe stared across the room at Ellie, his hands clenched into tight fists.
I didn’t bother holding back my gasp of glee. “What do you see, Gabe?”
“You won’t make me do it again. I told you. I’m a grown man.”
“Make you?” Ellie’s head snapped back as if she had been slapped, lost in her side of the hallucination. “If you were a grown man, I wouldn’t have to make you. But I guess I’ll have to get you out of this predicament too.”
“Don’t talk to me like that. I won’t tolerate it anymore.” Gabe bared his teeth, a new look on a man I’d only known as meek. Nice. “Not that, or the men who parade in here and think they can do anything they want. It stops now.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t need the men if you weren’t such a wimp.” Ellie’s eyes flashed as she fought her bindings, shaking the chair so hard I worried for a second that she might break free. I really didn’t want her to fry on the door.
“I’ll show you a wimp!” Gabe shouted, his words echoing through the warehouse.
“Yes,” I interjected. “Show her how manly you are. Say the words that will show her.” I had another little secret up my sleeve. The game was being played backwards this time. I hadn’t been able to get Ellie to tell me to kill Gabe, so this was a new tactic. Perhaps if she thought she was the one about to die, she might decide her life was worth more than his. Unlikely, but I made the rules and could change them at any time. “Say the words. Say them to her.”
“Kill the bitch!” Gabe bellowed, the veins in his neck standing out, pulsing with each rapid heartbeat.
My body tightened, and I turned toward my very own detective.
Ellie’s forehead had broken out in a fine sweat, the first indication my plan was working.
Taking a step toward her, the lightbulb above me flickered and died, casting the cavernous room into total darkness.
Frozen to the spot, I cursed myself for not replacing the bulb in preparation. Rummaging in my pocket, I turned toward the door, and a clatter sounded from Gabe’s direction at the same time that the light snapped back on.
Gabe stood beneath the circle of light, syringe in hand.
Stumbling backward, I flicked a glance at my instrument tray, wondering how I’d become so careless as to leave a full syringe unattended. But I hadn’t, of that I was sure.
Before I could ponder how he’d come upon it, Gabe lunged.
Grabbing for his hand, I had no trouble holding the sharp needle at bay, as weak as the last days had made him. But he summoned strength from somewhere, because inch by inch, the needle came closer.
“Señor de Rey! Dr. Kingsley!” he shouted as he pushed me backward, step by step.
I pushed back, but he was suddenly stronger and had me nearly to the door before I realized where we stood.
One more push and…
The warehouse began to shimmer, melting into patches of darkness and light that dissolved into a light that grew in brightness. The light reached a pinnacle and pop! A green flash.
The green light took me so by surprise that Gabe gave me one more shove, and my back hit the door with a sizzle. I screamed, squeezing my eyes closed as electricity wrapped around my body, penetrating every cell.
“Dr. Kingsley!” Gabe stood above me, his hand wrapped around my wrist, the other on my shoulder, shaking me.
My playroom was gone, replaced by a sterile white room.
Staring down at me with horror where I sat in a procedure chair, Gabe fought me for the syringe. The syringe that was now in my hand.
“Dr. Kingsley. You are safe. You are in Costa Rica at the Sandoval Recovery Ranch and I am Eduardo, not this Gabe. Please.”
I shook my head, trying to make everything make sense. Trying
to remember.
Then I did.
This wasn’t Gabe. This was Eduardo, my helpful assistant. He only looked like Gabe, the little traitor.
Gabe had betrayed me in the most brutal fashion. Because of him, my plan to lure Ellie to my playhouse had failed, ending with unbelievable pain and a desperate call, followed by a flight out of the country.
A new face.
New identity.
New hate.
It all came rushing back. I was on the top of the FBI’s Most Wanted List.
I released my grip on the syringe and Eduardo quickly stepped back with it, backing into a silver tray much like the one I so coveted.
Only now, my play place was ruined. Ruined by the one who wouldn’t die. Eleanor Francis Kline.
I tried not to grit my teeth as rage streaked through my veins, gripping the armrests of the chair instead.
It wouldn’t be like this forever. Oh no.
Once I was finished here, I would be able to go home.
Leaning back in the chair, I smiled, ignoring the pain the gesture caused.
Screw the FBI. Screw the police. Screw Ellie.
The city of Charleston would never see me coming.
10
Ellie typed her access code in, waiting for the lock to release before pushing the door to the evidence room open.
Agent Clay Lockwood entered right behind her, the heels of his cowboy boots clicking on the tile floor. He waved a hand to encompass the two desks—one empty save for a desktop computer, the other displaying framed photos of Jillian’s black Lab, Sam. “So, this is where the magic happens?”
Her fingertips tingled. She couldn’t wait to really dig into Charity’s case and find her killer. But she missed Jillian being there, her unofficial partner in solving crime.
“It was. The interim evidence clerk is using my old desk, and that one is Jillian’s.” Ellie went to the second door, which protected rows upon rows of evidence in uniform white cardboard boxes. The keypad tone was loud in the otherwise quiet room as she pushed each button and waited for the click of the lock releasing. “I’m up in the Violent Crimes Unit office now, but I’m still working Cold Cases.”
