The Eleventh Victim (28 page)

Who planted the pen?

V
IRGINIA UNLOCKED THE WOODEN DOOR THAT WAS PART OF THE
tall, weathered fence surrounding her house, and stepped into the yard. It was all grass, sea oats, and scrub pines growing wild and unmanicured, still wet from morning dew and sea mist.

As she approached the front door, she could hear tiny yelps and barks as the dogs hurled themselves at the door to welcome her back, their little doggie toenails digging at the bottom. When she
pried through the tiniest possible opening so as not to let them escape, they leaped on her, all tongues and fur.

First, treats, and then, the guerrillas. With Sidney curled in her lap, she took out her old address book, BlackBerry be damned, and started dialing.

“Good afternoon, Radio Shack.”

“Yes, may I please speak to Ken?”

She was on hold for the duration of a Britney Spears song until, finally, she got her first lieutenant, Ken, on the other end. They spoke in agreed-upon code.

“The beach is hot. We need to cool off.”

The undercover talk thrilled Ken no end.

“When?” he whispered into the phone, and Virginia could just see him, turned away from the others and being all Barney Fife.

“Nighttime, and we go by boat. Call me tonight but start the chain.”

“Chain commenced. Over and out.”

The phone clicked off and the gig was on.

The other dogs were all sacked out on the den furniture, sleepy after their treats. Virginia pulled herself out of the chair, depositing Sidney on his paws, and started upstairs to make the bed and take a shower.

After that, she’d head back to Larry’s. She had to locate some sort of a boat they could take around the bend of the Island. Shouldn’t be hard, no water patrol that time of night. It would have to be large enough to carry the shovels and hedge-clippers they’d need to tear apart the layout.

In the back of her head, somewhere remote and tucked away, she knew it was all temporary. The money man would find a way to lay the foundation regardless of their attacks on the work site.

And then what? Chain herself to the site’s chain-link fence? Mount another petition of Islanders that opposed development?

That was beginning to wear thin as more and more Islanders got paychecks
from
developers.

It would be a long war, and this was simply one battle.

At the top of the stairs, Virginia turned right into her bedroom. She opened the curtains and looked out at the waves rolling in one after the next after the next.

It was beautiful and hypnotizing and worth fighting for.

“That’s what it’s all about,” she whispered to nobody. She would find a way.

A thump at the front door snapped her out of her daze.

The damn paperboy. She’d told him a million times,
don’t hit the door.
It would throw the dogs into a fit. But luckily, they continued to snooze off the treats.

She bent to pick up a pillow off the floor, then stood up straight, eyes wide, locked on the window.

The paper had already come.

Something wasn’t right. All at once, Virginia could feel it.

She stood absolutely still, listening.

For a moment, all she could hear was the distant sound of the ocean and her own breathing.

Then, the faint but unmistakable sound of a footstep creaking on the stairs.

She was no longer alone in the house.

Panic washed over her and she looked around for a place to hide. Knowing she was trapped, she made a futile move toward the closet.

Just before she reached it, she glimpsed, through the corner of her eye, movement in the doorway.

It was too late.

She turned around.

Two of the most massive men she’d ever seen looked back at her with flat gazes.

“Who the hell are you and what the hell do you want? Get out of my house before I call the police!” She eyed the phone on the other side of the bed, and without waiting for an answer, she lunged for it.

Diving across the bed, they tackled her. She hit the floor, her face sliding along the rug, burning. One of them kicked her hard in the backside when she tried to stand up.

“Take it…my purse. It’s over there.” When she spoke her tongue tasted blood.

The shorter one backhanded her and she flew against the wall.

“Somebody likes the beach, doesn’t she?” The pointed toe of a snakeskin cowboy boot crashed into her ribs.

The tall one yanked the neck of Virginia’s shirt and ripped it down around her hips. Her arms crossed her chest and she stayed flat on her stomach. One of them turned her over, but she couldn’t see which. A pain went crashing through her skull when a fist made contact with her jaw.

Far away, she could hear the wild barking of her dogs…and then it faded into silence. The last thing Virginia saw was the carpet under her face on the floor.

H
E’D ALWAYS HAD EXCELLENT NIGHT VISION, EVEN AS A CHILD.

The super-heightened sense, his uncanny ability to see in practically pitch-dark conditions, had served him well in the past. On the streets of Atlanta, he’d been able to spot the silhouette of a lone woman on a darkened sidewalk blocks away, even in shadowy pockets where the streetlights had been shot out for target practice.

And then later, in the penitentiary, he would sit nightly, unmoving, in the dark of his cell, looking straight forward through the bars of his cell door, seeing yet not seeing.

He always had the advantage at night, and tonight was no different. His eyes had been trained on the front entrance of the New York City Women’s Detention Center for nearly seven hours. As the daylight faded, he had to focus even more keenly as people came and went about their business. His back to a wall across the street, he continued staring, watching every single person who emerged.

Darkening winds whipped up the street to fly above him and around the building that rose like a mountain in the middle of a New York City block. He melted against the stone of the building.

Then suddenly, the hours spent hunched there against the building came to an abrupt end.

It was her.

The moment was perfect…just like he dreamed…the precise moment he saw her emerge from the giant front doors. A huge overhead lantern-fixture hung down in the middle of the old building’s entrance, glowing golden in the night and spilling light down over the steps. It bathed her body with light against the dark and when it did, the sight of her hit him hard in the gut. He sucked in wind so cold it hurt his chest and made his teeth ache.

The blonde hair, the pale face, the slight frame…the figure precisely matched the one etched into his memory.

He watched her step out of the building and into the night air. He refused to even blink, drinking in the sight of her as she stood for a fleeting moment on the gray-streaked solid granite landing of the NYPD. She was poised there, topping thirty or so sharp granite steps leading down to the street level, like a tiny, delicate marzipan ballerina decorating a giant cake.

She almost seemed to lean back and rest against the heavy doors. Her coat fell back, away from her body. He could barely breathe.

What was she thinking?

She could have absolutely no idea he was this close to her.

But then, none of them had.

How does it feel now, Hailey? The hunter is the hunted. The destroyer is being destroyed. Does it hurt, Hailey?

His eyes were sharp and he spotted the bandage on her left hand as she reached up to grasp her shoulder bag.

She was lucky to be walking at all. She better not complain. A few cracked ribs were nothing compared to what the others got.

When she pulled her scarf off to rearrange her blonde hair, he was nearly sliced in two by the sight of her face, pale after hours in lockup, blonde hair blowing against her cheeks.

The others in Atlanta had meant nothing to him. He couldn’t possibly have cared less when they died. He was only interested in that beautiful moment, the intense eclipse of pain he gave them at the very moment of death.

Maybe it was something the two of them, Hailey and he, could discuss back at her place.

As she came down the long flight of granite steps to the street, he stepped out of the shadow and onto the sidewalk.

She never even looked back, not nearly as sharp as she was during her days as a prosecutor.

This was going to be easy.

He tried to imagine the look on her face if she were to turn around by chance and see him so close, just behind her.

Would she be scared? Would she fight? Would she confront him, here in the streets, alone? Or would she turn and run as best she could with her ribs bandaged?

The thought of her trying to run from him made his whole body tense.

God, his hands had started to tingle in his coat pockets. The electric heat pulsed past his fingertips up through his palms. Even his wrists ached.

He was so close to her now, he could call out her name and she’d turn around.

He wondered if her hair smelled the same as it had in the courtroom five years ago. He’d been fantasizing about the inside of her apartment. He had gazed up at it from the street for hours at night, watching until her bedroom light went out. He could tell she left a light on somewhere, maybe the kitchen, over the stove.

Once he was inside, maybe he’d even find a scrapbook in her apartment. Maybe there’d be news clippings with him in it.

He knew in his heart she thought about him just like he thought about her.

The big difference was that he hadn’t made her suffer for five years in the bottom of a stinking hellhole.

He followed along behind her. It would be tough for her to get a cab tonight, especially in this neighborhood. It was cold as hell and late. She had a nice long walk ahead of her. He noticed she favored her right side as she continued walking, and he saw from behind that she was wearing old cowboy boots.

Nice. They were walking through the city together. How romantic. Just like a movie.

His fingers were starting to feel like they’d explode straight out of their skin inside his pockets, and his groin throbbed in sync with the blood pulsing through his temples.

He could feel it all. He was here, now…with her. He’d dreamed about this moment for the past five years, waking and sleeping.

Everything would be okay.

T
HE BELL WAS RINGING OVER AND OVER, BUT IT SEEMED FAR
away…. Then something else…a pounding sound.

Virginia opened her eyes.

It took her a while to get her bearings. Why was she on the floor, wedged between the wall and a love seat? She was lying directly beneath a tall bedroom window and looking under the love seat toward her bedroom door. She could make out the bottoms and legs of the furniture, and could see straight under and through to the other side of her bed, and on to the hall beyond the bed and bedroom door.

She closed her eyes again, her head in a vise of pain.

The house was still, completely still. As her vision corrected, she realized she was staring straight into a set of deep, brown eyes that stared right back at her, trained and unblinking.

Sidney.

The wiener lay flat on his stomach, all four sausage legs splayed out to his sides, gazing mournfully at her. Immediately recognizing she was awake, he army-crawled on his tummy across the carpet to where she lay trapped between object and wall. He crawled all the way, till they lay nose to nose. Lying on the carpet, inhaling his doggie exhale, she tried to speak his name. The pain in her throat was so intense she caught her breath mid-syllable.

She tried to roll over and up, but she couldn’t. Summoning up all the strength left in her body, she managed to rise up halfway and sit with her back against the wall, her head spinning with the effort.

What the hell happened?

Sidney’s joy that she was alive could not be contained and he began rapid-licking her calf. The wiener looked for the world like he had been crying. She tried to reach out to pet his head, but the fierce pain in her side wouldn’t let her extend her arm.

When she looked down at her right hand, she saw that blood had dried down two of her fingers where there should have been nails. The nails had been broken off backward.

What day was it? Why was she on the floor? Confused, she glanced around and spotted her phone and digital clock radio, both torn out of the wall and broken in pieces on the floor.

It all came back in a rush…. the two men with no necks. The threats about the beach. Her shirt being torn from her….

She looked down with momentary panic and was relieved to see that the shirt was still around her waist and her jeans were still on, buttoned and zipped.

At least she only took a beating from the no-necks. It could have been worse. So much worse.

But how did they know? How had they found out about her?

And what about the others…her little band of misfits…her guerrillas? Had they been beaten as well? Were they even alive? Had they fought back? Could they? Could the two intruders possibly know how to get their names, much less locate them?

Virginia stiffened; there was movement downstairs.

The sound of the sliding glass door onto the deck opening…She could hear the metal slide down the floor groove and then catch. A pause, then the door was slid shut again. She heard the glass door’s lock click back into place.

They were back.

They must know she was still in the bedroom. They must think she was still alive. She looked wildly around the room for an escape…other than down the stairs and directly into the path of her attackers.

The only other way out was the bedroom window. Better to jump from the second story and risk a broken arm or leg than the alternative.

She caught Sidney’s eye.

Please, please don’t start barking…. just this once…

Sidney seemed to get it…that he had to remain silent…

She couldn’t stand, so with her heart pounding frantically, Virginia started to crawl toward the window.

They must know she was still in the bedroom. How much time did she have? Not enough.

She rounded the bed, her body screaming in agony. She inched herself past the bed…then just a few feet more to the window…

She was there! She’d made it!

Now, to lift herself up, unlock, raise the pane, stand, and get out…

It was impossible.

No, it isn’t. You have to save yourself. It’s the only way.

Struggling, she pulled up on the sill and reached for the lock, stretching…stretching…

All she had to do was open the window. She could try and scream. Maybe the neighbors would hear…Someone…Anyone…

The pain, so acute it took her breath away…No scream escaped her lips. It was futile anyway, her house was set apart from the others; her neighbors would be sealed into their air-conditioned houses, insulated from the day’s heat. Her voice would be drowned out by the surf.

She silently reached to unlock the window. Straining for the lock, she stopped, tried again. She managed to reach it, turn it.

Wincing in pain, she began to raise it, just enough to get her torso out, then fall to the ground twenty feet below.

She gazed out the window, and when she looked down, the ground was swirling, her vision blurred from the beating.

Concentrate. You have to keep going…

The window was up.

Now…if she could get her leg up and out, the rest of her could follow….

It was too late.

Two hands grabbed her shoulders, pulling her back, away from the window.

The pain was so intense. She couldn’t fight anymore. Where was Sidney? What did they do to Sidney? The room disappeared in black.