Killer Love (45 page)

He said it nonchalantly, like he was telling her it was a sunny day outside.

“My Dad will kill
you
,” she told him, with more fear in her voice than threat.

He smiled. “I’m not scared of Daddy. He’ll be groveling on his knees before this is over with. It’s his fault, anyway, so you should be pissed at him, not me.”

He stepped toward her and she scooted further onto the bed, wrapping her arms around her chest again.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to touch you. But the way you’re dressed, I hope you know you’re asking for it. You look like a little whore and if your dad really cared about you, he’d make you act and dress decently instead of like a two-dollar hooker.”

“Fuck you!”

His face flushed. “And none of that language, either. For God’s sake, you’re fourteen years old and you’re dressing like a whore, cursing like a sailor and screwing around with a guy way too old for you.”

Tears filled her eyes and she said, “You killed him. You killed Birch.”

“The guy was a piece of shit. If you live through this, don’t get mixed up with a dick like that again. Only a pervert would mess with a girl your age.”

This psycho was giving her
advice
? He had to be insane. Of course, kidnapping her and murdering Birch were the first clues of that. She hated to think what else he might have planned.

****

Abby called Diane from the truck.

“Abby, I was so worried!” Diane cried. “I’ve been trying to call you for two days. You didn’t do the tours. I’ve had customers calling. You wouldn’t answer your phone or your door. I was about ready to call the police.”

Abby had decided to suspend the tours for now. Maybe for a lifetime if...

She shook her head. She wouldn’t think that way. This nightmare would be over soon. She had to believe that. In the meantime, she’d shut down her excursions. What else could she do? Provide a disclaimer warning passengers that their tour guide could detonate at any moment?

“I’m fine,” she told Diane. “But there’s something Wil and I need to talk to you about. Can we come by?”

“Of course. What’s going on? Where have you been?”

“I’ll explain everything when I get there,” Abby promised.

A few minutes later, they arrived at Diane’s house. She lived in a cream-colored bungalow in a quiet neighborhood with neatly trimmed lawns. Before Abby and Wil had fully exited the pickup, Diane flung her front door open and dashed out to meet them. She took Abby in a fierce hug. Abby gasped, the incision in her abdomen sending shock waves of pain through her body, but Diane didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Diane said, releasing Abby. “Come in and tell me what happened.”

Perry was sitting in the recliner and stood when they entered. “Hey, buddy.” He reached out and shook Wil’s hand, then looked at Abby. “You okay, hon? Diane’s been going crazy.”

“I’m okay,” Abby said, and once she and Wil were seated on Diane’s sofa, Abby began telling the story they’d decided on. “After you took me home, someone broke into my house and kidnapped me.”

Diane’s face paled. “What? Good God. Kidnapped? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. He let me go, although we have no idea why. We’re trying to figure out who he is and why he did this.”

“Jesus.” Perry sat forward. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

Abby nodded and Diane said, “He didn’t...rape you or anything, did he?”

Diane’s expression was unreadable. There was concern there, but something different Abby couldn’t identify. Shaking her head, Abby said, “No, nothing like that. I have no idea why he took me, what he wanted.”

“Abby doesn’t remember a lot about the evening you two went out,” Wil interjected. “We were hoping you could answer some questions.”

“We never should have left them,” Perry said harshly. “They could have been...” He sighed and shook his head. “There are some sick bastards out there.”

“I know,” Wil agreed. “You’d think the local hangout in Blue Harbor would be safe.”

“Everything seemed fine. No one threatening that I noticed,” Diane said. “You know, it was really strange. Abby had some drinks, but not enough to get that wasted, then suddenly, she was...like...gone. I had to help her to the car, help her into bed, the whole bit.”

Wil slid to the edge of the sofa and withdrew a small notebook and pen from his shirt pocket. “Did anyone send a drink over?”

Diane gave a small smile and glanced apologetically at Abby. “Several men sent drinks over. Abby was quite popular that night.”

Abby’s face flushed and she didn’t dare look at Wil.

His voice sounded unaffected as he continued, “Think carefully. Were all of the drinks brought over by the waitress or did anyone deliver them personally?”

Diane knitted her brow. “Most of them were brought over by the waitress, but that one guy, Matt. He hand-carried a couple of rounds. Then, another guy, I don’t remember his name, brought us a drink.” Her scowl deepened. “That was way early, though, so if he’d put something in it, I’m sure she’d have felt the effects sooner.”

Wil nodded. “Was there anyone that paid special attention to Abby? Anyone who gave you the creeps?”

Slowly, Diane shook her head. “No. It was pretty much a normal night for two hot, sexy women out on the town.” She attempted a feeble grin but Abby didn’t smile back.

“I don’t remember much at all,” Abby said quietly, ashamed she’d been so out of it she hadn’t known what was going on. “I can’t believe I drank that much.”

“It’s not your fault,” Wil assured her. “I bet someone slipped something, maybe Rohypnol, in your drink.” A muscle clenched in his jaw and his hazel eyes hardened, darkening to a deep green. “And I think I know who it might have been.”

“Matt?” Abby asked. When she’d mentioned him to Wil earlier, Wil had told her a little about their history. Judging from the things her abductor had said, he had a long standing grudge against Wil, so it could possibly have been Matt.

Wil nodded. “I’ll go talk to him and, even though it might be uncomfortable for you, I’d like for you to go with me. In spite of the kidnapper disguising his voice and appearance, you might recognize something that will confirm it was Matt.”

Abby nodded, then turned to Diane. “Thanks,” she told her. “For the information and for taking care of me that night.”

Diane’s eyes welled with tears and she swiped at them with quick, angry motions. “I didn’t take care of you. I left you alone and some monster abducted you. I feel awful.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Abby stood and hugged her friend. “And don’t worry, I’m fine.”

She felt bad at deceiving Diane. Abby was anything but fine. But Wil’s little girl was the one who was the most vulnerable. The one they had to save.

The one in the hands of a madman.

****

When they arrived back at Wil’s house, he opened the front door for Abby. Her walk was tentative, careful. He saw her face blanch and clench with pain, just like he’d noticed at Diane’s. She hadn’t said anything, but he could see she was hurting.

“I’ll go meet with Matt,” he told her. “You stay here and rest.”

Abby shook her head. “I need to be there. I need to see if he’s the one, if I recognize him as the kidnapper.”

“Fine.” Wil sighed. “But we’ll do it tomorrow. His office is closed and he probably wouldn’t see me if I went to his house. He can’t very well refuse if I show up at his office.”

“Okay.”

They’d already agreed Abby would stay at Wil’s house, but when it came time to go to bed, she protested. “Wil, I think I should go home. I can’t be around you, around anyone. I’m...dangerous,” she finished in a tormented whisper.

He took her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes, trying to convey his determination, his concern about her.

“You’re not dangerous. You’re a victim. And you’re in this mess because of me. I want you here, where I can keep an eye on you.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “You don’t scare me, okay?”

Tears filled her eyes, but she nodded. “Okay.”

“You take my bed. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“I can’t do that. You need your rest. I’ll take the sofa.”

Exasperated, he shook his head. “Abby, please. Don’t oppose me at every turn. I want you to have my bed, and really, I’m too exhausted to argue.”

She nodded again and they said goodnight. Wil watched her make her way down the hall. He listened as she ran water in the bathroom. He waited until the other settling down night noises had stopped and all he could hear was the wind moaning softly outside the windows.

He lay down on the sofa but couldn’t sleep, couldn’t close his eyes without seeing Lindsey, and couldn’t lose himself in sleep without feeling guilty that she wasn’t in her own bed.

After a few minutes, he heard Abby moving around in his room and knew she couldn’t sleep either. He wanted to go to her, but didn’t think it was a good idea. His desire to be with her wasn’t all sexual, although admittedly that was a part of it. He mostly just felt the need to hold her.

He decided on a compromise, a prudent, safer course of action.

He walked to his bedroom door, and tapped softly on it. “Abby,” he spoke quietly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she replied through the barrier, but her voice sounded weak, frightened.

He put his hand on the doorknob but let it drop. Leaning his forehead against the smooth wood, he ran his fingertips down it. He stood there for several seconds, then, with a heavy sigh, made his way back to the living room.

The house smelled of Lindsey. Of her young girl lotions and perfumes and it made him ache. Wherever she was, he prayed she was all right. That she was not too frightened and that she had faith he’d bring her home, even though he wasn’t sure
he
did.

He’d checked in with the station often, probably more often than he should have. He was sure he was driving them crazy. The entire force was searching for Lindsey and had promised to let him know as soon as they learned anything.

He dropped onto the sofa and flipped on the television, leaving it on mute so it wouldn’t disturb Abby. A late night celebrity talk show was on. The people on the screen with their smiling faces taunted him. He resented them, these lucky souls whose children had not been kidnapped...whose loved ones had not been impregnated with a bomb.

Disgusted with them and himself, he hit the power button and watched the screen go black. He should do something constructive with the long hours that stretched before him, but all he could manage was to futilely mull over the situation. The sorrow and fear of not having his daughter home, safe in her bed, threatened to overwhelm him.

He knew he needed sleep but he hadn’t been able to since Lindsey had disappeared. Remembering the sleeping pills the doctor had given him after Tara died, he considered taking one. Would they still be good after four years? He’d taken them for a few nights right after it happened. Then, one night, he hadn’t heard Lindsey scream for him and by the time he’d reached her she was shaking and sobbing uncontrollably. He’d never taken them again.

He wouldn’t take them now. What if he took them tonight and Lindsey needed him?

Scrubbing a hand over his eyes, he leaned his head back, checking the wall clock out of the corner of his eye. Jesus. Time was crawling along, excruciatingly, painfully dragging by.

His eyes drifted shut, then snapped open when his cell phone rang. It was three a.m. What the hell?

The readout said private, but even before he answered, Wil knew who it would be.

Chapter Nine

“Hello, Wil.” The voice was disguised, and, just as Abby had said, it made him sound like Darth Vader. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No.”

“Couldn’t sleep, huh? That’s too bad. Your little girl is sleeping like a baby.”

Wil couldn’t reply for a moment. He felt as if an invisible rubber band were around his throat, squeezing. The sensation moved up to his head and anger made his whole body tremble, hot with the need to hurt this bastard. “What have you done to her?” he finally managed in a voice as unrecognizable as the one on the other end of the line.

“Other than the obvious?” Even through the distortion, Wil detected amusement in the tone. “Don’t worry. I haven’t hurt her, physically or sexually. My tastes don’t run to children. I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a pedophile.”

“Let me talk to my daughter.”

“No.”

“I have to know she’s okay. How do I know you haven’t already—”

“Want me to make her scream?” The voice interrupted.

“No!”

“Then I guess you’ll have to take my word for it.”

“What do you want?”

“That’s not the question you should be asking. The question you should be asking is,
why
do I want it?”

“Okay. Why do you want it?”

“You’ll have to figure that out on your own, but maybe I can help you. What’s the worst thing you’ve done? The thing you’re most ashamed of?”

“The worst thing I’ve done?” Wil sighed in exasperation. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You heard me. What is the worst thing, in your entire sorry life, that you’ve ever done?”

“Well,” Wil said slowly. “I once rooted for the Yankees.”

“You think this is funny, motherfucker? You think it’s a
game
? I’m not the person you want to piss off, got it?”

“Yes. I’m sorry,” Wil said quickly. “It won’t happen again. Just tell me what you want.”

“You’ll find out soon enough. In the meantime, enjoy my little gift. Have you fucked her yet? I bet it was exciting, wasn’t it? I mean, knowing at any time, she could go kaboom! Takes sex to a whole new level, gives a whole new meaning to the term ‘banging’.” The creepy voice guffawed loudly in Wil’s ear, making his skin tighten. He wanted to fire down on him, wanted to threaten him and curse his black soul to hell. But he had to stay calm. For Lindsey. “I’ll be in touch,” the voice said before disconnecting the call.

Wil sat in the darkness for a long time after, until the sun rose, bringing rays of lemon-colored light into the room.

The worst thing you’ve ever done.

The worst thing he’d ever done was to let Tara die.