HARD FAL (20 page)

“What’s up, boss?”

“I’m probably just being paranoid—”

He shook his head vigorously. “You always say, ‘Trust no one, assume nothing.’ Besides, it’s not paranoid when you’re almost always right.”

“This is one time where I’m hoping I’m not.”

“About what?”

She gestured to his laptop. “Pull up Seth Bernhart’s court appearances. Go back six months.”

“Sure, no problem.” A few clicks and he looked at her expectantly. “Okay. Now what?”

“Compare them to the places and dates the five men were murdered.”

“No. You can’t think Seth—”

“Just do it, Taylor.”

It took a little longer, probably because he didn’t want to admit the pattern he was seeing. “He was there. In or near all those cities at the time of their murders.”

“Doesn’t mean he did it,” she reminded him—and herself. But the knot in her gut kept twisting tighter and tighter. She grabbed her phone and tried to call Nick. No answer. She’d forgotten; he’d left it in the Ford.

Taylor’s expression lightened. “Right. In fact, smart guy like him, no way would he leave a trail this obvious. And why would all their drivers’ licenses end up with Gibbons?” Now he smiled, relieved. “Plus, Seth has been with us all day. He couldn’t have killed Gibbons or had those drivers’ licenses. Someone is trying to frame Seth for those murders. Has to be Daddy.”

No, Lucy thought. If Daddy was the killer, he would have framed Seth months ago and reveled in watching the police drag Seth away from June. He would love forcing Seth to leave June unprotected, would delight in his humiliation and disgrace.

But if not Daddy, then who had killed those men? And why?

She dialed again, this time trying Megan. It went to voice mail. “Megan, ask your dad to call me as soon as you get this. It’s important.”

Taylor hunched over his computer, searching for more data to guide them. “Maybe Daddy hired Gibbons to do the killings for him? Except I still don’t get it. I mean, I understand shooting Gibbons—cleaning up loose ends. But why let us know about the other murders?” He slumped back in his seat. “For a guy who stayed hidden for decades, he sure as hell is making waves now.”

“Never underestimate the power of obsession.” As she spoke, Lucy tried texting Megan:
Call me. Now.

“Sure, I get that. But—wait.” He jerked upright, rocking the SUV. “Maybe this isn’t about June. Maybe it’s about Seth. I mean, Seth stole June, right? He’s the father of her child. And he’s helped to make men like Daddy pay dearly.”

Lucy had already gotten there, but let him continue. A sick knot of worry twisted her gut. She wanted to protect Seth and June from Daddy, but in doing so, had she left a killer at her home with her family?

“Today, the shooting, it was Seth who was the real target,” Taylor continued. “Oshiro jumped in the way. So, after he couldn’t kill Seth, Gibbons took June when the opportunity presented itself. But, think about it, if Seth was out of the picture, Daddy could go after June and her baby any time he wanted. She doesn’t qualify for Wit-Sec and no one can afford the kind of protection needed twenty-four/seven forever. All he has to do is either kill Seth or convince the cops that Seth is a serial killer, then he’s got an open field to June whenever he wants.”

He turned to Lucy. “Boss, we need to get some protection up to wherever you have Seth and June stashed.”

Lucy had arrived at the same conclusion if via a vastly different line of reasoning. Everyone she’d left behind was in danger.

Chapter 27

IT TOOK SETH
a while to find the right spot for his ambush.

He drove through the deserted recreation area near the lake. There were a few private homes, two boat landings, a small man-made beach and playground, plus the campground that was closed for the season but it had cell coverage and Wi-Fi, making it the perfect starting place.

But where to end it all? Someplace that would do damage, obscure the truth. He parked in the campground and used Megan’s phone to scour the online maps of the state park and adjacent recreational area.

There was a trail leading up to a waterfall and the gorge above the dam. If the weather was better, that might work. But there was no way he’d make it up there in the dark and rain. As if to prove his point, a gust of wind made the low-slung car shudder.

He glanced up river. The dam was invisible in the dark, but when they’d driven past it earlier, he remembered being impressed by how big it was. Massive and tall with water being released to bring the spring-swollen river’s level down, it had made the earth tremble.

Yes. The dam would do nicely.

Megan’s phone chirped with an incoming text. He ignored it just as he had the calls from Lucy earlier. She wouldn’t understand—well, maybe she of all people would. But she’d try to stop him.

His head swam and for a moment he lost his train of thought. The moments of confusion were becoming harder to fight past. He’d seen autopsy photos of the scientist who died from mercury poisoning. Her brain—atrophied and full of holes—the damage was apparent even to a layman.

That was his brain. All he had to work with. He couldn’t risk waiting, letting the poison continue its relentless march to oblivion.

Lightning struck over the lake, the resulting thunder shaking the car. A good night to end this.

A good night to die.

The Girl Who Never Was: Memoirs of a Survivor

by June Unknown

What Color is Love?

HOW DOES SOMEONE
like me fall in love?

Before Seth, anytime I was with a man, it wasn’t me—it was simply an older version of Baby Girl. Pleasing, appeasing, basking in the slightest hint of attention whether it was healthy or sick, cruel or kind.

After that first trial when I spoke as myself, for myself, for the first time ever in my life, I felt different. As if there was a spark of power in me, if only I could figure out how to fan it to life. I wanted to live for me, not for someone else.

Yet, I couldn’t do it alone. With Seth I didn’t need to. With him there was no constant vigilance, searching for any hint of pleasure or displeasure. He didn’t hold back affection or praise or even pride. When I was with him, I felt real.

I still had no idea who I was, but I could feel myself shedding the facade that was Baby Girl and leaving it behind once and for all.

After that first trial, Seth asked me out to dinner. To celebrate. We went to a fancy restaurant, I wore my nicest dress—the one I’d bought special for Dr. Helen’s funeral the previous year—and he ordered sparkling cider instead of champagne for us to toast with since I was still underage.

The menu was a bunch of curly letters I couldn’t make sense of, so I asked him to order for me. After the waiter left, we sat in silence. Before this we’d always had something to talk about—the case, Dr. Helen and how she raised me, my painting, his family, his career ambitions.

He was the first and only man I’d ever felt comfortable talking with and now it was as if we’d just run out of words. Was this how it was for everyone? I had no idea.

He didn’t seem uncomfortable, not at all. Instead he was smiling. This strange little smile that I had no idea how to interpret. It wasn’t lust or passion or attraction—those I could read and encourage all too well. This was something new. And that scared me because I didn’t know what to do with it. Anxiety that I might do the wrong thing churned through me, like riding on that bright yellow school bus that took me away from the safety of Dr. Helen’s house every day when I was a kid.

His smile widened. He laid his hand over mine as if he felt my nervousness. I felt calmer, still on edge, but not ready to mentally bolt. I did that sometimes when things got overwhelming with men. Who am I kidding? I did that
every time
I was with a man. Like my body would go on autopilot, seducing and pleasing, knowing all the steps, and my mind would just run and hide in the dark cellar of my mind, the place Daddy would leave me when I was a Bad Girl.

“Was that true?” Seth finally said. “What you told the judge? Being scared all the time?”

I couldn’t look him in the eye. I pulled my hand away and gulped down some water, almost spilling the glass when I set it back down. All around us were couples, leaned forward over candlelight, murmuring. I could almost see the invisible sexual tangos dancing between them.

I knew how to dance that dance. It was practically encoded in my DNA. Usually if a man asked me uncomfortable questions, I’d answer with my body, changing the subject to something more pleasurable for him. It never failed. But I wanted something more with Seth—and that scared me, because I had no idea what to do about it.

“I’m not like normal people,” I muttered, fascinated by the assortment of silverware laid out around my plate. “Once, when I was little, before I went to Dr. Helen’s, some kids chased me out into the street and a truck was coming. I just stood there. Not afraid or anything. It almost hit me. I wasn’t afraid, not at all.”

The foster mom who was meant to be watching me had gone nuts. Yelled and screamed and spanked me, then locked me in my room so I wouldn’t go wandering—which was fine with me, that was what I wanted in the first place, to be left alone.

“Of course you weren’t afraid—you’d never been close to streets or moving vehicles. You had no idea how to judge distance or speed.” I still don’t, but that’s beside the point.

“No, you don’t understand. I understood that I was in danger. I just wasn’t afraid. My heart never raced, I never felt any of the things normal people feel when they’re scared.” I paused. “A few of the doctors—not Dr. Helen, but some of the others—they said I might be a sociopath. Incapable of feeling anything. Not real emotions. Just whatever I learned to fake.”

My face still down, I slanted my eyes up to see his reaction. He wasn’t repulsed or disgusted. Thoughtful. He looked thoughtful.

Just like Dr. Helen had all those years ago when she helped me label my feelings. I wasn’t very good with words, so we used pictures and sounds and smells to help me sort things out. I had no clue what emotions were—and I rarely ever showed anything I felt inside, not to strangers, not even to Dr. Helen, not for a long time.

Fear was easy, even though I rarely felt it—just about never once I moved to Dr. Helen’s house. It was stinky, wet, moldy, blacker than the darkest night, like the cellar where I went when I was a Bad Girl. Alone in the dark.

Joy was just as simple. It was bright, bright light, the way it chisels into the black as the door squeaks open and Daddy stands there, calling for me, and I race up the cellar stairs and leap into his arms.

Pleasure, pain, those were more difficult to sort out. I had no comprehension of some of the bigger emotions: anger, envy, lust, shame, sadness, hate. Those I didn’t learn until I left Daddy.

Despair was the color green mixed with the smells of that food court and the damp of wet panties as I sat and sat and sat, waiting for Mr. Green Elephant.

Contentment was a cup of hot cocoa warming my hands as I snuggled in Daddy’s lap and he brushed my hair, making me all pretty.

Betrayal was the smell of doctors and the pinch and lies that came from the nurses who told you it wouldn’t hurt a bit and gave you shots.

Love…that one was the easiest one of all. Love was Daddy. His body pressed on top of mine so I almost couldn’t breathe, the way he sang to me and I’d stand on his feet and we’d dance and dance and dance until we fell on the floor laughing, the itch of his cheek against my skin when he hadn’t shaved. He was everything. Isn’t that what love is? When you make someone else your everything?

Dr. Helen thought that was a real break through. Asked me to think about one question, but I never could, kept pushing it away.
If Daddy was my everything, did I really believe I was his?

I hadn’t thought about that in years, but now tonight, sitting in this fancy restaurant with Seth, her words kept hammering at me.

“But you didn’t lie to the judge,” Seth was saying when I tuned back in. “I could tell. All those things you said about the panic when you walk out the door, or around men, waking up at night…those were true.”

I shrugged, tried to steer him to something else. “Like I said, I don’t get afraid like other people.”

Another long pause. This was not going well. Anxiety crept over me like my old fuzzy blanket that I used to hide under, let it filter the light and the world away as I retreated.

“A truck almost killing you doesn’t scare you, but…standing up in that courtroom, being here tonight…God, I’m an idiot.” He took my hand again, squeezed it, his fingers resting against my fluttering pulse. “Are you okay? How do you feel? Don’t panic. We can leave if you want.”

I looked up, surprised. No one except Dr. Helen had ever asked me that before. How did I feel?

That hot rush that had given me strength in the courtroom earlier was a distant memory. Until I saw the look on Seth’s face.

“I’m so proud of you,” he said. “Standing up to your fears—without ever even saying a word to anyone. You just…You are the most incredible, the most brave person I’ve ever met.”