01 A Cold Dark Place (20 page)

She audibly gr
ound her teeth.

“
Randall introduced me to Mallory who worked with him there and whom he’d known since she was a kid.”

“
Did you know Randall or Rooney when you were a child?”

“
No.” He frowned. This line of questioning was starting to make sense. It wasn’t about his vigilante activities but it could still trip him up if he wasn’t careful. He was foolish not to have expected it. “I grew up in the mid-west. Met Randall when we deployed to Afghanistan. I just told you when and how I met Mallory.”

“
You’re thirty-four, Mr. Parker?”

“
Yes, ma’am.”

“
So you’d have been, what, sixteen, in nineteen ninety-five?”

“
Ninety-five? Christ, I can barely remember where I was in ninety-five. High school, I guess. Where are you going with this?”

Black eyes latched onto his.
“Ever been to West Virginia, Mr. Parker?”

“
Can’t say I have.” He knew exactly where she was going with this but he had no intention of making this easy for her.

“
You got any family?”

His mouth went dry. He didn
’t care about his own reputation but he sure as hell wasn’t having anyone sully theirs. “My mom died when I was fourteen. My grandfather died a year later. After that I was a subject of the state until I went off to college.” He leaned forward, held her gaze. “Neither my mother nor grandfather were ever in West Virginia, and neither of them abducted Payton Rooney.”

Her expression became relaxed and exasperated all at the same time.
“You have to understand that now it’s obvious Mallory has been targeted by someone ‘involved’”—she rolled the word around her mouth— “in Payton Rooney’s abduction, we need to check out all her close relationships. Especially those that began recently.”

“
I don’t have to understand anything if you plan to implicate my family. Maybe I should call my attorney?”

He
r eyes widened, maybe realizing he wasn’t quite the pushover she’d anticipated. “Fine, let’s clear this all up right now. Where were you Sunday, November 9
th
?”

The night Lindsey Keeble had been abducted.
The same night he’d shot Meacher. “How does that clear things up?” He wasn’t supposed to know the PR-killer’s itinerary.

“
Just answer the question, Mr. Parker.”

“
I was in DC. I went to dinner with a friend. Left at four AM the next morning to drive to Charlotte for that meeting.” His GPS and cell phone data would confirm every word, which went to show if you knew what you were doing you could be in two places at once.

“Girlfriend?”

He said nothing. Theoretically he and Jane had a casual dating relationship as a cover for their meetings.

She waited impatiently.
“A name and address would be helpful.”

Fuck
. He
wrote Jane Sanders’ name, address and phone number on a piece of paper. He didn’t want Mallory to know about this. The room felt suddenly too hot. Things were getting complicated. He raised his gaze to the door, and there stood Mallory looking furious on his behalf.

Barton
checked her shoulder. “I’ll need to confirm your alibi, Mr. Parker. Don’t take it personally.”

“
Why would I?” He didn’t take his gaze off Mallory’s. “You’re just doing your job, right?”

“
Let’s go, Alex. I’m sorry you had to go through this,” said Mallory.

He pushed his chair back and ignored
Barton. “The only thing I care about is you and making sure this asshole gets caught.” At the doorway he looked back at Barton where she was still scribbling away. “As long as your colleagues are all on the same page, we’re good.”

The quirk of Mallory
’s brows told their own story. She touched his arm and leaned close to his ear. “If it came down to a contest about who I trusted more...you or them.” Her lips brushed his ear and sent a bolt of sensation straight through him. “I’m pretty sure you’d have the edge.”

Barton
watched them as they left and he knew she was going to keep digging. Whatever his misgivings about Jane and Mallory, he better make damn sure his alibi stuck.

CHAPTER
FOURTEEN

H
e’d had her for a couple of weeks now. She’d passed the tests and lasted a hell of a lot longer than the others and he was starting to think she really might be the one. He’d showered, put on cologne, pulled on a wool hat and his sheepskin jacket, picked up the flowers he’d bought.

Work had been flat out for the last few days and he hadn
’t been able to check on her. She had food and water but if she got sick the way Payton had gotten sick...

His boots crunched through the dead leaves in the woods, faster now. It was dark but he knew the route so well he didn
’t even need a flashlight as long as the moon shone.

He
’d been the officer to find Lindsey Keeble’s car, which had earned him a lot of kudos within the department. He figured it was only a matter of time before someone saw it and may as well use his problems to his advantage. Lindsey had been a bitch with a mouth that could blister paint. Man, he wished he hadn’t grabbed her. Too much trouble. Too close to home. But maybe she’d been fated for another reason because Mallory Rooney was coming to her funeral tomorrow.

Should
he take her?

The idea of having two women at the same time haunt
ed his fantasies now. Nothing unusual in a man wanting to screw two females at the same time, but this was riskier. He’d need to keep Mallory under control, physically and mentally. Maybe get her hooked on heroin and dependent on him for a fix. That might keep her malleable.

He liked the sound of that.

He’d never have contemplated keeping two women when Payton was alive, but he had to find a way to get through the remainder of his life without descending into madness.

He tripped over a stick.
“Shit!” That’s what he got for not paying attention. Maybe he’d just kill Mallory. The idea of her not respecting her sister’s memory made him fume. But he couldn’t kill her without at least giving her a chance to redeem herself, because Payton had loved her so much. And maybe she was like Kari and just needed a bit of coaching.

He’d drilled a metal ring into the wall
of the abandoned mine. He had chain to keep her locked up but still needed to reinforce the door to the storage shed. As long as he didn’t show Mallory his face he could risk holding her somewhere like that. Kari was going to have to stay in the chamber though. If she ever escaped she could identify him and he wouldn’t risk losing his freedom.

Kari was sweet. She didn
’t seem to mind the basic accommodations too much and he could try and spruce up the place. If she had a baby he’d figure out a new plan. Maybe move somewhere remote where he could build some sort of compound...or join one of those militia groups with Kari as his wife?

Y
up. Starting tonight, he was going to see if he could get her pregnant. No point in waiting any longer.

The idea had him so hard his dick throbbed.

He got to the woodpile and stood around for a moment to make sure no one was nearby. He hadn’t remained undetected all these years by being careless.

The forest was unusually silent tonight, the first severe frost of winter starting to
really bite. Sliding back the bolt he lifted the hatch and reached for the flashlight that rested just inside. He flicked the switch, but nothing happened. The bulb had probably blown. He gave it a shake and something rattled inside the plastic casing. Piece of shit.

It was dark in the chamber. Pitch black.
What the hell?
Had the paraffin lamp run out of fuel?

“
You all right down there?” He descended the stairs carefully in the darkness. The silence had him panicking. Shit, was she okay? He reached for another flashlight that he kept on one of the shelves that lined one wall. Groped around, knocking off books and a mug. Where the fuck was that thing? Why wasn’t she answering?

Something slammed into his temple and a knee connected with his balls, white hot agony slicing his body
in half. The flowers fell from his fingers as he went down like a slab of concrete and hit his head on the edge of the bed. He curled into a fetal ball. Holy
shit
. The pain was excruciating, sweat broke out over his body and he dry heaved.

Feet scrambled behind him, the noise of the chain curiously absent.
Shit.
She’d gotten loose. She’d ambushed him. Little fucking bitch. If he didn’t move his ass she was going to trap him down here and then go running to the cops like the sniveling bitch she really was.

He dragged himself to his feet as she scrambled up the ladder. He jammed his shoulder through the opening just as she tried to slam the wooden hatch closed.

“Get back here!” He sounded like he’d been strangled. Shit. His balls ached.

He lunged for her ankle but she jumped away. Her gasp of fear made him
yell out loud. Then he could hear her running away. Lying, fucking deceitful whore. He threw himself up the ladder and closed the hatch behind him and started after her. Forcing himself not to run, forcing himself to take deep calm breaths even as his anger rose up and engulfed him.

He
’d been a fool. She’d tricked him into trusting her when he knew he shouldn’t have.

She cried out in the darkness, making enough noise for a blind man to follow. She was heading north
west. He caught a glimpse of pale skin in the darkness and started to jog.

He
’d grown up in these woods. Knew every inch, in every season. She didn’t stand a chance.

He was gaining on her but decided to circle around so he got in front of her. He ran
ahead and waited behind a tree in the darkness. But the sounds of her movement had veered east and she suddenly sounded further away.
Hell
. She must have seen the light from the McCafferty property that skirted the edge of the forest. He started running fast, uncaring of the uneven ground and branches that tore up his face.

His foot went down a hole and he hit the ground hard. His chin slammed off the dirt and white light burst through his brain. His heart was pounding.
Christ Almighty
. Fear crowded his mind, crushing his carefully laid plans to dust.

Sonofabitch.

Son of a fucking bitch!

He stood. Tested his ankle which hurt but wasn’t broken. He started walking fast. Limping, but so angry he didn’t feel the pain. Fury burned through him in a red hot wave that fueled him.

There was a pounding sound.
A desperate beating of fist against wood.

“
Help! Help me!”

Don
’t be in. Don’t be in. Don’t be in.
He was about fifteen feet from the cottage when the door opened. Kari turned toward him and he saw her desperate frightened eyes find him in the darkness. He never stopped moving. She squeezed past Mrs. McCafferty and tried to shut the door behind them but the old woman fought her.

“
Help me. Help me! He took me and raped me. Please help!”

“
Who are you? Get out of my house.”

And then he was there and he walked straight inside the simple log cabin.
“It’s okay, Mrs. Mac. You’re safe. I’ll take her back into custody now.”

“
He’s lying!” Kari’s eyes were huge as she ran from him and grabbed the phone off the wall.

“
Thank goodness you’re here.” The old lady clutched her throat. “Is she a fugitive? She looks dangerous.”

“
Don’t you worry none.” He swiped the telephone from Kari’s hand and she cowered away from him, trembling with cold and terror. She opened her mouth as if to plead for help but no sound came out.

“
Is Mr. Mac home? I sure could use his help with this one.”

“
He’s gone into town. Decided to go to the tavern for that live bluegrass band that’s playing tonight. I had a headache so I told him to go alone. Who is she?” Mrs. McCafferty nodded toward Kari who was staring at him with a stricken expression. “Vagrant?” The old woman’s tone was distasteful which he found ironic given how pious she was in church every week.

He eyed the knife block and pulled one out,
testing the sharp edge on his thumb. “She’s a dangerous criminal but you don’t need to worry.”

“
Oh my—”

He pushed the knife into Mrs. McCafferty
’s abdomen and angled it sharply upward. He held her as she sagged against him, feebly grabbing onto his clothes as she twitched and spasmed in his grasp. Hot blood soaked through his shirt, his jeans, touched his skin. This was why he didn’t like knives. Too messy. Too much trace evidence.

“
See what you’ve done?” he snarled at Kari. “I’ve known this woman since I was a kid and because of you, she’s dead.”

She
stood in the kitchen staring open-mouthed at him as Mrs. McCafferty bled to death in his arms.
Stupid bitch.

“
And when the cops find her.” He let Mrs. McCafferty’s body slide gently to the floor. “They’re gonna blame you.” He washed his hands, then wiped his prints and DNA from the faucets and phone.

He turned toward her, disappointed. She
’d ruined everything. The bitch started shaking her head and moving away from him, but there was nowhere to go in the small kitchen. He walked up to her and smashed the handle of the knife into her temple and she crashed to the floor in a heap. Rifling through the drawer, careful not to leave prints, he found duct tape and tied her wrists behind her back. He pulled her head back using her hair and looked at her eyes. She was out cold.

He wrapped tape around her
mouth. He wasn’t done with her yet, he was going to teach her a lesson about the cost of betrayal. But he needed to wait. Needed to make sure the next twenty-four hours went exactly to plan because he would not go down for murder. He would rather die right here and now than be locked up with filth.

He latched the kitchen door, turned off all the lights and removed the light
bulb from the hallway fitting. In the meantime he ransacked the house the way a thief would, looking for cash and easily fencible goods that he’d dump as soon as he got the opportunity. It was thirty minutes before he heard a car in the driveway. The blood had dried and crusted on his skin and itched unmercifully.

Old Mr. McCafferty ambled through the door, a little worse for drink
—not that he should have been driving—but hopefully it would make what was about to happen less painful. As the old man tried to ease out of his heavy winter jacket, he grabbed his hair and pulled his head back. “Sorry,” he murmured. Then he sliced the knife deep across the man’s throat.

A
hot spurt of blood hit his cheek and slid down his neck. The old man was dead before he hit the floor.

He closed the front door, then rifled through the old guy
’s pockets, taking his wallet. The sight of the body made his stomach clench. Using paper towels he wiped the knife clean and then pressed the pads of Kari’s fingers onto the handle before dropping it beside Mr. McCafferty’s body. The paper towels went in his pocket as he walked to the kitchen, trying to avoid stepping in the large pools of blood. His footprints were visible but attempting to clean this up would make it look less like a random attack. He’d dump the shoes along with the clothes. Burn them to ashes somewhere other than these woods. He let out a sigh. He’d known these people his whole life and they’d built this cottage just a few years ago for their retirement. They were good people. It was a damned shame.

He was going to have to make sure the chamber was well and truly hidden in case cops started searching the woods
, although he’d try and divert them. He went back into the kitchen and hoisted Kari over his shoulder. She was limp. He hoped to hell he hadn’t killed her because he intended to make her wish she’d never tried to get away from him. By the time he was finished with her she’d wish she was dead.

And then, if she was lucky, he
’d kill her.

***

Four days after Thanksgiving was not a time a parent wanted to bury a child. But there was never a good time.

The church belonged to the Methodists, with a steepled bell tower and green tin roof. The portico on the front was supported by four white columns
. Bare limbs of three maples enfolded it in a protective embrace.

The graveyard was at the back of the church. Row upon row of old family plots marked with simple white crosses.

Bryce Keeble stood beside Lindsey’s white coffin, hunched over like an old man. The whites of his eyes were still red from crying. Skin gray. Grief etched on his features like lines of graffiti. Some truths were too immense to leave you physically unchanged.

He ignored everything except his beloved daughter
.

The pastor was saying prayers for
Lindsey’s soul but Mallory doubted her soul was in any danger. She’d been a good kid. A young woman on the cusp of a bigger, better life. No one had the right to steal that from her. No one had the right to destroy something priceless and precious.