The First Victim (19 page)

“They climbed into the backseat and Evan kept saying, ‘There’s a clown after us. The clown’s chasing us.’ I never realized he meant it literally. My dad told me to take Emily home and then he ran into the woods to catch the guy who’d hurt her.”

“You took her home? Not to the hospital?”

Bailey shrugged. “I didn’t have a driver’s license. Hell, I’d only ever had one driving lesson. It made sense to go to her house. I knew how to get there. I might have gotten lost going to the hospital.”

“And then what happened?”

“I drove to the Wrights’ house and they took her inside.”

“And what did you do?”

“Mr. Castle convinced me that I’d done enough driving. He got behind the wheel and took me home.”

“Mark Castle?” Sebastian asked.

“Yeah.”

“And what happened to Swann? Where did he go?”

Bailey tried to remember, but couldn’t. “Don’t know. It wasn’t like we were friends or anything. To be honest, all I cared about was what had happened to Emily.”

“Did your father ever say if he saw the clown?”

Bailey shook his head. “I guess the closest he got was finding this place.”

Sebastian put the mask back down where he’d found it. “Strange that the guy would have left this here. He’s gone all these years without getting caught, but he didn’t clean up after himself the first time?”

“Maybe my dad locked the place up before he got a chance.”

“Why wouldn’t he log it as evidence? At least dust it for prints?”

“He—” Bailey’s knee-jerk reaction was to defend his father, but even he could see that Sebastian was right. What had he been thinking? Sure forensics hadn’t been as advanced fifteen years ago, but the mask still should have been bagged and tagged. “I don’t know.”

“Do you have a collection kit in your car?”

Bailey nodded.

“Okay, go get it, then bring Swann in. I’ll stay here and do the collecting.” The edge in Black’s voice indicated that he was probably afraid Bailey was going to screw up the case as badly as his dad had.

“Thanks, Sebastian.”

“For what?”

“For refraining from pointing out what a monumental fuck-up this is. For not saying that if he’d just done his damn job all those other girls might still be alive.”

“No one should be held responsible for what their parent does,” he muttered, turning away to search for more evidence.

They were going to make beautiful music together, him and Mandy. The acoustics in the room were perfect for it. Her sobs and screams would echo off the walls magnificently.

She was silent for now. He’d dosed her with too much of the drug, and she was still sleeping it off. That was okay. He was in no rush. They had plenty of time. He was sticking to the plan. His patience was paying off.

He fingered the strings of Mandy Pinsky’s violin. She’d left it in her locker at school, but he’d retrieved it for the occasion.

They were strung so taut. He plucked at one and was rewarded with a twangy note that echoed off the room’s walls just the way the girl’s cries for help soon would.

He liked the feel of the violin strings against his fingers. Maybe he’d use them to kill the girl once he was done with her. Maybe he’d snap one off the musical instrument and wrap it around her neck, pulling it tight. She’d gasp for air and he’d ease up, letting her catch her breath, giving her that false hope that maybe she wasn’t going to die after all.

But she would. Eventually he’d tire of his little game of choking the life from her and then letting her lungs gulp in oxygen. And when he tired of the game, he’d yank that string so tight, she’d finally die.

He picked up the violin’s bow and scraped it along his palm. It had a strange tacky texture. He liked it. He liked the friction. He rubbed it along the length of zipper that kept his pants closed. It felt good. He spread his legs farther apart and stroked himself faster and faster with the bow. The chafing burned.

He moved over to where he’d laid Mandy on the table. Still drugged, she slept soundly and didn’t protest as he began massaging her body with the bow.

Anna groaned, coming around earlier than her friend. He glanced over to where he’d dumped her in a heap on the floor. The pierced and tattooed girl was not his type.

She was already marred. Ruined.

She wasn’t worth the trouble. The little bitch had fought back like the little hellion she was. Knowing her mother wasn’t home, he’d walked up to the front door and asked, nicely, he’d asked nicely, her to go with him. She’d refused.

Her refusal had angered him. Taking other girls had never been a problem. They’d always been agreeable, downright docile. Anna’s smart-ass sass had struck a chord in him and he’d come so close to losing control.

He’d wanted to kill her then and there. He’d wanted to snap her scrawny neck and leave her defiled body where it fell.

But he’d taken Anna anyway, because he wanted to make sure that Emily knew he was coming for her. That he was close, so close, that he could reach out for her any time he wanted.

Not only had Sam Castle brought up her mother’s collection of dolls from the basement of The Garden Gate, but he and Laurie had unpacked them all. Each was housed in a custom-made case. Imprisoned behind glass, they stared out at her. Emily found it unsettling to be sitting amongst the treasures, and desperately wanted to escape their painted eyes. She felt like her head was going to explode as she thought about Anna, and then the fact that Mark was Laurie’s dad, and then Bailey. Each issue was more complicated than the last and her thoughts swirled around faster and faster like a tornado, threatening to rip her apart.

Unable to relieve her stress by going out for a run—both Laurie and Mark had freaked out when she’d just mentioned the possibility—she needed to do something to pass the time so she booted up her computer and did her best to work on the Armstrong account. A task further complicated by her lack of concentration and Laurie watching television, apparently transfixed by whatever crappy reality show was on.

It had been dark for hours and Laurie had gone to bed long before Emily gave up on getting any more work done. Pulling her cell phone out of her pocket, she checked the time. 11:32 p.m.

She’d been wondering if Bailey would stop by again. He’d said he would, but he hadn’t yet, and there were only twenty-eight minutes left in this interminable day.

She didn’t know whether she was disappointed or relieved that he hadn’t shown up. On the one hand, she would have liked to see him, to be held by him, but on the other, she didn’t want to have to address the feelings she had for him.

Sighing, she packed up her laptop. Although she was exhausted, she doubted she’d get much sleep tonight. There was too much to worry about. Too many unanswered questions swirling around.

Her cell phone buzzed, startling her. She shook her head at the way she’d jumped because of the familiar sound. “Paranoid much?”

The sound indicated she’d received a text message. Maybe Bailey hadn’t wanted to disturb her by calling so late. His consideration warmed her, and she smiled as she reached for the phone.

A chill spread through her as she read the message.
WELCOME HOME EMILY. Time to play. Just us, no FBI. Tell your daddy I’m doing just what I said I would.

Dropping the phone on the table, she backed away from it.
He
had her cell phone number. The thought turned her stomach, and she swayed unsteadily on her feet.

It buzzed again, the vibration sending it dancing across the table’s surface. She eyed it like it was a rattler poised to strike. She didn’t dare check the message. But she couldn’t ignore it. Snatching up the phone, she registered that instead of a text, he’d sent a photograph. Her breathing stopped. She stared at the tiny photograph displayed on the screen, her mind trying to make sense of what her gut already knew. What she’d always known. From the moment she’d first heard about Jackie Willet’s disappearance, she’d known it was him, but she’d pretended she hadn’t. It had been so much easier to blame it all on her over-active imagination, to berate herself for her paranoia, than to face the truth. He was here.

It wasn’t over. It had never been over. Her ordeal had started fifteen years ago, and for all this time she’d been playing this game with herself, pretending it was over, a thing of the past.

She’d gone through the motions. Built the semblance of a life, put on a show to prove that everything was okay, she was fine. Hell, she was better than fine. She’d put it all behind her.

But now, in this moment, when she’d lost what mattered most to her in the world, she knew these fifteen years had been a lie. The truth was, he was here. The only way she could ever hope to be free of him, would be to face him and to end his game.

“Em?”

She jerked her head up. Bailey stood in the doorway watching her. She hadn’t heard him come in. He must have used the key Mark kept “hidden” for guests.

“Are you okay?”

She couldn’t speak. She tried, but the terror choked her.

“What’s wrong?”

Wordlessly she turned the phone in Bailey’s direction. He was too far away to see the picture clearly, so he snatched it from her hand. The horror on his face matched that which she was feeling.

“Oh my God. He’s got Laurie.”

They stood there for a prolonged moment, trying to absorb the awfulness of this latest reality.

Emily dashed down the hall toward the room Laurie was staying in.
He
couldn’t have her. Mark had assured her that the place was locked up tight and the two FBI agents had been here since before Laurie had gone to bed. Besides, Emily had been awake this whole time. She would have heard something.

She tore open the door to Laurie’s room, switched on the light. She choked back a sob when all she could see was the empty bed, covers mussed as though they’d been slept under, a single red rose laid across the pillow.

Bailey hurried up behind her. “We’ve got to tell Morgan and Black.”

He’d already turned in the direction of the guest rooms when she caught his hand. “I need you to take me to see my father,” she said. Her voice sounded strangely stilted. “The note with the…with the picture said to ‘say hi to Daddy.’ Maybe he knows who’s got Laurie. Maybe he can tell me.”

“Be serious, Em. He’s got a tube sticking down his throat. We’ve got to tell the FBI.”

“He said no FBI. Let me talk to him. Then you can bring them in, but if you tell them now… I’m begging you, Bailey. Let me do this.”

Bailey spiked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, Em—”

She could see that he was torn between doing what she wanted and his professional responsibility. She knew without a doubt that if the victim had been anyone else, he wouldn’t have wavered in his duty, but because it involved her, he was second-guessing himself. She pushed her advantage. “Please, Bay. If I mean anything to you, anything at all.”

“I already told you that you’re everything to me, Em.” He grabbed her hand. “C’mon. My car’s outside.” Together they ran to his car, their footsteps echoing in the dark stillness, not nearly as loud as her heart pounding in her ears. He waited until they were out of view of The Garden Gate before turning on the lights and siren, and setting a land-speed record to the hospital.

“This is a bad idea. A really bad idea.” That Bailey was regretting his choice was obvious. “It’s like that time you convinced me to jump out of the oak tree. I knew it was a bad idea. I knew it, but no, I let you talk me into it.”

Shoulder blades aching with tension, Emily sat silent in her seat rubbing her palm, dimly aware of his nervous chatter. She was too busy worrying about her sister. Imagining what the monster might do to her. What he could be doing to her at this very moment. The metallic taste of fear lingered on her tongue as she forced herself to take slow, steadying breaths. She had to keep it together. It was the only way she could save Laurie.

“You said I’d be fine, but I ended up with a broken leg.” He swung the car into the entrance of the hospital parking lot, screeching to a halt in the fire zone.

Taking Laurie Wright from The Garden Gate had been the tricky part. It had required careful planning, stealth, perfect timing and patience.

He’d used the fire escape to climb up to the room she was staying in. He’d hidden in the closet, but not before rifling through her overnight bag, and stealing a pair of her flowery pink underwear. Waiting for her in the small dark space that smelled of cedar, he tied the pretty panties around his dick, which was already semi-hard with anticipation.

She’d never even suspected he was there, watching her. He’d gazed at her from just feet away as she’d washed her face and brushed her teeth. Hoping for a bit of a peep show, a chance to see that sweet, young body of hers, he’d been disappointed when she hadn’t changed into sleepwear before flopping onto the bed fully clothed.

Swallowing his disappointment, he’d consoled himself with the knowledge her naked flesh would soon be his to play with.

He didn’t have to wait long before Laurie was softly snoring. He crept over to the bed, and pressed the chloroform-soaked rag to her face. Laurie’s eyes snapped open, and for a long moment she struggled, kicking and flailing like a wild beast. He knew, in that instant she looked up at him that she knew who he was.

It didn’t matter that she recognized him. She’d die before she could tell anyone.

The tricky part was getting out of The Garden Gate undetected, but like everything else he did, his plan was pure perfection. Using the pulley system he’d designed just for this purpose, he’d lowered her from the window to the ground without attracting the attention of anyone in the B&B. He was brilliant.

So much for the hotshot FBI agents. He’d just stolen his next victim from right under their noses.

He stroked the silky hair of the still knocked-out Laurie as she lay in the van. Needing to taste her, he picked up her limp hand, sucking her thumb into his mouth. Mmmm, just as he’d guessed, cherry!

He pulled a cherry lollipop from his pocket and unwrapped it.

He’d have loved to play with her, but there was no time for that. He had to be satisfied with twirling the candy on his tongue. It was time for the next part of the game.

He wished he could have seen Emily’s face when he’d sent her the text message. He’d have loved to witness her reaction when the picture of her baby sister appeared on her phone.

This was his game, and he was in control.

As they jumped out of the car outside the hospital, Bailey spotted a familiar figure walking across the darkened lot with another man. “Williams! Hey, Williams, is that you?”

“Bailey, come on,” Emily urged, eager to see her father and get the answers she so desperately needed.

“Just a sec.”

The dispatcher hesitated for a second before turning toward them. He waved.

“I might need your help,” Bailey called out. “Can you stick around?”

“Sure. I was just here to see my girl.”

“Okay. Meet us inside.”

Grabbing Emily’s hand, Bailey led her into the hospital. Hand in hand they raced down the eerily empty hallway toward her father’s room, skidding to a stop outside his door.

“I need to do this alone,” Emily said. She didn’t even know what “this” was, but she knew that it was between her and her father. With Laurie’s life hanging in the balance, it was time for the showdown they’d never had.

Thankfully, Bailey didn’t argue. “Okay. I’ll keep the nurses away.”

“Thank you.” Impulsively, she rose up on her toes and kissed his cheek.

“I’ll be waiting right here,” he promised.

Squaring her shoulders, she entered the room, prepared to do battle.

After stepping through the door, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkened room. Blinking rapidly she realized that all of the monitors cast a ghoulish glow over this place that smelled like death. She could see the shadowy figure of Donald Wright, in a full body cast, just as Laurie had described, in the bed. A chill spread between her shoulder blades as she stared at him.

It had been a long time since she’d been alone with her father, but she’d always been alone in his presence. She’d always hoped that if she were to see him again, she’d manage to find it in her heart to pity the man who’d always been more concerned with how things looked over how things really were.

Standing here, watching him now, all she felt was anger. Old resentments that she’d spent half her life containing to a simmer were boiling in her heart, but most of all she hated him because she knew that he knew who had Laurie.

As though he sensed her arrival, he stirred, opening his one eye that wasn’t covered with a bandage. Startled, it took him a moment to focus on who loomed at the foot of his bed.

She walked around the bed, examining his monitors, focusing on the EKG that seemed to indicate that this shell of a father actually had a heart in working condition. What did machines know?

Rubbing the scar that stretched across her palm, she bent close and whispered, “He’s got her. He’s got Laurie.”

His heartbeat increased.

“But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

He closed his good eye, thinking he could shut her out. The desperate need to save her sister that swept through her obliterated any residual pity she might have had for him as he lay there.

She knocked on the cast covering his shoulder three times. The sickly hollow sound echoed in the room.

His eye popped open. He focused on her for only a moment before looking away.

“Don’t you dare try to ignore me.” Even as she whispered, her voice shook with emotion. She didn’t dare to raise her voice. That would bring Bailey running, and she couldn’t afford his interference. She knew what she had to do. “I know that you know who has her. He sent me a text message telling me so. You’re going to tell me who it is. Laurie is not going to die because of you. Do you hear me? She is not going to die.”

His heart monitor started to beep erratically.

“Tell me who has her.” Fingers flying, she ripped away the tape holding his ventilator tube in place. “You will not let her die. You hear me? She is not going to suffer any more because of you!” Without hesitation she grabbed the ventilation tube, and yanked it as hard as she could.

Her stomach turned over at the slurping noise it made as she pulled it from his throat. He gagged, a dry, wheezing, painful sound, and she almost vomited.

This was no time to be weak. Fighting her nausea, she screamed at him in a whisper, “Tell me who has her! Who has Laurie?”

He pursed his lips into an
o.
His pulse was pounding harder than hers.

Grabbing him by the shoulders, she shook him. “Who?”

Barely audible over the cacophony of the medical monitors, he gasped, “O’Neil.” His eye rolled shut as he passed out.