Night Hunter (60 page)

“
I know that. And I’ll vouch for you.”

“
Wilma, I’ve got to get out of here before they come or I’ll be doing my explaining at headquarters and there’s no time for that.”

He hung up, started for the door, stopped. If he left and she managed to get to a phone, he’d miss her call.

“
Goddamnit!” he banged the wall again.

“
Johnnie?” His aunt Anna opened the door, poked her head inside tentatively. “Johnnie ...?”

“
Aunt Anna, you’ve got to tell me. It’s extremely important. Did you see Regina this afternoon?”

His aunt looked at him, her large brown eyes filled with concern for him. She reached into an apron pocket, pulled out a piece of paper, and handed it to him.

He read the note, his heart galloping wildly. The time at the bottom read 12:50. He glanced at his watch. 2:02. Well over an hour ago. Damnit, would she still be at Fort Point? He doubted it. More than likely he had taken her to his house in Pacific Heights.

He raked his fingers through his hair.

His aunt touched his arm. “Has something happened to Mrs. Van Raven? I didn’t read it. I’m sorry if—”

He cut her off. “Aunt Anna, do something for me.”

“
Of course, Johnnie.”

“
Stay and listen for the phone. I want someone here if Regina calls. I’ll check in later.”

She nodded.

He called Wilma. “Corde has Regina. I’m going to his house now. Give me ten minutes, then send the police. Tell them it’s a kidnap situation and to treat it as such. No sirens. The judge doesn’t know he’s a suspect.”

“
Godspeed. John, be careful.”

He hung up and ran into his bedroom. “I’m taking your car. Aunt Anna,” he called out as he rummaged through the nightstand drawer looking for his handgun.

The gun was gone.

“
The fucking bastard,” he cried in exasperation. Corde must have taken his gun the night he broke into his apartment. There was nothing he could do about it now. He could only hope that the element of surprise would give him the edge he would need.

He located the leash hanging on a nail in the garage, not ten feet from the body of his dear deceased wife. Getting the leash had given him the opportunity to see the rotten bitch once more.

He stood in quiet contemplation over the sprawled form, his nerves deliciously keyed up, virtually humming with pleasure.

Amelia had believed in reincarnation, the afterlife, and out-of-body experiences. He hoped her spiritual self had managed to come out of the grotesque thing that sat crumbled on the concrete floor to view the ruins of the once-magnificent face.

Seeing Amelia again, being reminded of how he had been cheated of the prolonged torture that would have given him the ultimate satisfaction, renewed his fury at the woman in his basement room. He wouldn’t be cheated this time.

He took the leash upstairs to his bedroom.

“
Your mother is here,” he said to the girl on the bed. “She wants to see you. Shall we get you ready for your visit?”

Above the silver duct tape across her mouth, Kristy stared at Corde with large, terrified eyes. Her gaze dropped to the chain leash in his hand.

“
Oh, don’t be frightened, sweet girl. I don’t intend to whip you with this.” He held the leash up. “I shall just put it around your neck so you won’t be tempted to wander.”

He tossed the leash on the bed, then went into Amelia’s closet. There was no hesitation, he knew exactly what he wanted Kristy to wear. His body tingled with anticipation.

He returned to the room and laid the clothes on the bed. Then he leaned over and cut the pantyhose at Kristy’s wrists and ankles and the one around her throat securing her to the headboard. The tape he pulled off slowly, reveling in the discomfort her eyes could not conceal.

“
I trust you to cooperate,” he said. “I’m sure you love your mother too much not to.”

Kristy looked down, nodded.

“
Put these on.”

She stared at him, unmoving.

“
I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with my presence.” His light tone turned harsh. “Do it now.”

She undressed, turning away as best she could. Her modesty, and the brief snatches of nudity revealed to his eager eye, titillated him a hundred times more than if she had stood before him naked, desirous of his touch.

“
The brassiere goes,” he said.

The girl paused briefly, quickly removed her bra, then resumed pulling on clothes. When she was done, she turned slowly, head held high, refusing to look at him.

He scrutinized her carefully. Wonderful. So believable. He felt a stirring in his groin.

Kristy wore a pink taffeta dress with a pinafore of Swiss batiste, the sash tied in a bow at the back of her tiny waist, the ruffled hemline ending above her knees. She wore ankle socks and white Mary Jane shoes. She could undoubtedly pass for a prepubescent child.

“
A pity you’re so tall,” he said. “Ah, well, such as it is. There on the bed, a satin ribbon. Use it to pull your hair up on the sides and tie it into a bow.” He moved toward her. “Let me show you.”

She jerked away. “I know what you mean.” She stepped to the full-length mirror and arranged her long brown hair.

He handed her a jar of cold cream and a wad of tissues. “Off with the makeup and earrings.”

While she did that, he went through Amelia’s drawers and selected a pair of fishnet hose, a garter belt and demi-bra, all in black.

He turned back to Kristy, who stood waiting,

“
Perfect.”

Retrieving the leash from the bed, he approached her, looped it over her head, and pulled in the slack. When he tested the tightness, pinching her neck, she cried out and glared at him.

He gave her two smart swats on her behind. “Behave yourself. I will not tolerate insolence,” he scolded. “Come, child. Your mother is waiting.”

He yanked at the leash, forcing her to follow.

John parked his aunt’s Skylark two blocks down and ran for all he was worth to the Corde estate. Flashes of lightning lit up the sky to the north. He was thankful for the driving rain that, he hoped, wouldn’t draw undo attention to a man in a hurry. His lungs felt about to burst, his breathing was labored. Once inside the Corde grounds, he ran, crouched low, staying well within the shadows of the three-story house, tall hedges, and walls. At the garage he slowed, wondering if he should go to the door in back— the one the housekeeper had allowed him to use—or try to find a way in through the garage? He opted for the garage. He would need some sort of weapon against an armed killer.

He didn’t bother with the aluminum garage doors. They were automatic and would only open from the outside with a remote device. He found the access door on the far side. It had four small windows in the upper half. John bent, lifted a nearby watering can, and with the metal spout, was about to tap at the pane nearest the doorknob. The can went through the window sash. The pane was missing.

Glass, on a square carpet in front of the door, crunched under his shoes. Someone had broken out the glass before him. Had Regina come here instead of Fort Point, hoping to find and rescue Kristy before becoming a prisoner herself?

There were three cars in the garage. Nearest to him was the judge’s Rolls-Royce. Next to that was a limited-edition sports car of some obscure make. The car closest to the interior door was Amelia’s dark blue Mercedes. As he passed the Mercedes he tripped on something. He threw out an arm to catch himself and touched a soft mass that was unmistakably hair.

His heart seized.

Regina?

Please, no.

At that moment a flash of lightning illuminated the garage and the hideous thing at his feet. The shocking sight of it forced him to stumble back.

He was stunned, yet relieved. He’d seen enough to guess it was Amelia. John knew what Corde was capable of, yet he was totally unprepared for the atrocity at his feet.

He hurried on before another flash of lightning forced him to look again.

He was at the door when he heard a rustling sound, like someone moving. It came from behind him. He tasted bile. For a brief, insane moment he imagined it was the body making that sound —the woman, crazed, rising from the dead to seek her revenge, prepared to destroy those in her path as she sought her murderer.

He whirled, looked behind him. The dark outline leaning against the car hadn’t moved.

In the dim light, he saw an assortment of tools hanging on a pegged wall. He reached for the largest and heaviest—the monkey wrench.

Then he slipped quietly into the laundry room.

Kristy’s captor lifted the handgun from the dresser, flipped the safety lever, then shoved the gun into the waistband of his trousers.

They went down the stairs to the main floor. The choker chain pinched her neck when he pulled. She tried to hurry along so he wouldn’t have reason to tug at it. As he led her through the house, Kristy thought of her mother waiting in another part. She knew her mother was in danger, the same as she, and she knew the judge would not hesitate to control them through threats directed at one or the other. It was all her fault. If she had listened she wouldn’t be here now. She wished her mother didn’t have to be involved, but God forgive her, she couldn’t bear the thought of being alone with this creep. In her mind’s eye, a scenario of the two of them somehow managing to overpower him and get away, fueled her spirit, giving her hope and strength.

Momma,
I’ll never disobey you again.
Never.

The man pulling her along was a slimy, sexual pervert. She’d picked up that much upstairs. When he was tying her up in the bedroom his damp fingers had lingered a second longer than necessary on her legs and throat as his eyes raked over her body. He could have done anything he wanted once she was tied up, but she sensed he was restraining himself. Waiting.

She trembled. She and her mother were in a serious situation. How serious? A matter of life or death? The man was a superior judge. Would he rape them, burn them with acid —she shuddered visibly at the thought —and then allow them to go free? Not likely.

She remembered how she and Sonya had thought it was a kick when the bug-eyed official had made subtle passes at them during the preliminaries. They’d laughed behind his back, making jokes about his pop-eyes, bald head, and hairy hands. It wasn’t so funny now.

Why hadn’t she told her mother about him? She knew why she hadn’t. If she told her mother that a contest official, who was old enough to be her father, was looking at her like she was a double fudge ice cream sundae, her mother would have gone into a tizzy and would have forced her to drop out of the contest.

Oh, what a damn fool she was.

John heard the footsteps coming his way. He ran to a set of louvered doors. Inside were a washer and dryer. He jumped up on the washing machine and pulled the doors closed. Through the slats he saw a trail of muddy footprints leading to where he crouched. He held his breath, praying Corde wouldn’t notice.

A pair of ox-blood shoes came into view ahead of a pair of shiny children’s dress shoes. Both pairs of shoes stopped. John tightened his grip on the wrench. Moments later he heard soles descending wooden stairs.

The basement.

John slid back the door, carefully lowered himself to the floor, and hurried to the basement door. He opened it a crack.