The Hunt (40 page)

Stay at the Lodge. I have four deputies assigned there. Until I know what’s up with Delilah Parker, I’d rather play it safe.

I love you.

Q.

P.S. Stay off your leg. If you have to shower, make it quick.

She smiled. Just last week, she would have thought police protection was overkill. But today, she allowed Quinn his paranoia.

Her smile turned into a worried frown. She couldn’t imagine what Delilah Parker was going through right now, finding out her own brother was the Butcher, a rapist. Miranda was certain Quinn’s fears were unfounded; how could a woman participate, even just by remaining silent, in the rape and torture of another woman?

It was sick. Almost as sick as what David Larsen had done.

She slowly maneuvered herself out of bed. Cautiously, she stood. Her injured leg was stiff and sore, but she could walk without crutches if she went slowly. Moving around was the best medicine. In fact, the leg didn’t hurt any worse than the huge bruise on her shoulder from hitting the boulder.

She needed a shower. She’d had one at the hospital, but the water was tepid.

She turned on the water and waited for it to get hot. She wished Quinn were here. She took off her pajamas and looked at herself in the mirror.

Her breasts had been scarred with nineteen slashes, all about an inch long. She had counted them. Over and over. Her nipples had little sensation, her nerves having sustained permanent damage. She closed her eyes, always feeling revolted at the sight of her disfigurement. The scars on her wrists and ankles from being chained and the long one on her inner thigh didn’t disturb her half as much as her damaged breasts.

Then she forced herself to look again, to stare at herself until the mirror clouded with steam and she could no longer see her reflection.

The scars were part of her now. She had to stop feeling sorry for herself. Quinn had never been as repelled by them as she was. Angry, yes. She’d seen the flash of anger in his eyes.

Anger didn’t bother her; pity did.

No more of what-might-have-been! She was growing more comfortable in her skin each day. The Butcher was gone; Miranda had to bury her self-pity and anger with him. She had a full life ahead of her, with Quinn.

And he loved her just the way she was.

She stepped into the hot shower and thought about what life would be like married to Quinn. Fun. Challenging. Exciting. Frustrating. She was stubborn; so was he. But making up was half the fun of arguing, right?

It had taken them years to find their way back to each other, and Miranda didn’t want to waste a single minute. As soon as possible, she wanted to get on with their wedding. When Quinn returned to Seattle, she would go with him. Certainly she could find a job in search and rescue in Washington state. Seattle had rivers and waterways and the Cascade Mountains. Miranda had experience in all kinds of terrain.

And for the first time in more than a decade, she thought about having a child.

With Quinn.

She shut off the water and reached for the towel that hung on the hook outside the shower. She didn’t feel it. Odd. She thought for sure she’d put one there. Must have fallen to the floor. Opening the door fully, she stepped out.

And faced a nine-millimeter semiautomatic.

She looked up into the cold, wild eyes of Delilah Parker, who appeared nothing like the society matron Miranda had known.

“Washing my brother’s blood off your hands?”

When there was no answer at Miranda’s, Quinn used the radio to check in with the deputies stationed at the Lodge.

“I’ve had an APB put out on Delilah Parker,” he said. “She should be considered armed and dangerous. There is strong evidence that she assisted her brother David Larsen in abducting his victims.”

“Good God,” he heard one of the deputies say.

“Check in. Name and location.”

“Jorgensen, main entrance outside and perimeter check every twenty.”

“Zachary, main entrance inside and interior check.”

“Ressler, trails, barns, parking—all clear.”

Silence.

Jorgensen spoke. “Walters, check in.”

Silence.

Quinn’s heart rose into his throat. “Ressler, you and Jorgensen get down to Miranda’s cabin, stat! Zachary, check on Richard Parker and his son immediately. Call all guests and employees into the dining hall and keep them there until you get the all clear. I’m calling in reinforcements. ETA is ten minutes.”

He slammed down the radio. “Goddammit!” Why had he left her? He thought she’d be safe. Four cops protecting the Lodge. Few criminals blatantly took out a cop. They waited for a hole, where they couldn’t be seen.

But Walters was down. Delilah Parker had gotten to Miranda.

Quinn accelerated the truck, taking turns fast and dangerous.

He and Miranda had finally found their way back to each other. He wasn’t about to lose her now.

CHAPTER

38

“If you so much as squeak, I’ll kill you. Slowly. And then I will kill your lover.”

Miranda believed Delilah’s threat. She didn’t want to die. Not now, after she’d finally put her demons to rest. She couldn’t bear thinking of Quinn finding her dead body.

Delilah Parker was a sick woman.

Her hands bound behind her back, goosebumps rose on Miranda’s damp skin. She wore a thin cotton robe and nothing else.

Shaking and barefoot, Miranda stumbled down the path, her leg aching. She had no idea where Delilah was taking her, but she wasn’t dead yet. She would find an opportunity to escape.

“Why are you doing this?” Miranda asked.

“Because I want to,” Delilah said like a recalcitrant child. “Now keep moving.”

Keep her talking. Miranda remembered that from her criminal psychology classes.

“Why did you help your brother kidnap women? You’re a woman. Certainly you would have sympathy.”

Delilah shrugged. “It was interesting.”

Interesting?
She thought raping and shooting women in the back was
interesting
!

“You just handed us over to your brother and walked away? Knowing what he was going to do?”

“Keep your voice down,” Delilah hissed.

Miranda couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She pushed on, though she kept her voice low, mindful of the gun in her back.

“How could you do that? Just walk away?”

“I didn’t walk away. I’m not a coward. Not like Davy.”

Miranda stumbled at her words. Delilah prodded her up. “Keep moving.”

“My leg.”

“Who gives a fuck about your leg? Davy’s dead.”

Miranda bit her tongue, tears springing to her eyes. “You knew? You
saw
?”

“I wanted to watch. To see what it took to break someone. Davy insisted that if he found the right girl she would want to stay with him forever. I told him he was a fool. I was right.”

How could Delilah ignore the endless screams? She watched her brother rape and torture women and it was
interesting
? To see what it took to break a human being? Miranda’s stomach twisted and bile rose to the back of her throat. She forced herself to swallow, the burning sensation making her grimace.

Delilah was as twisted as her brother!

She continued. “You know, it’s not my fault. Davy took that first girl without telling me. Can you believe that? He just kidnapped her and raped her. He thought that if she knew how much he
loved
her,” Delilah said, eyes rolling, “she’d stay with him.”

“Penny,” Miranda said, almost to herself.

“He wasn’t supposed to touch another woman without my permission. But I knew, like a wife knows her husband is cheating, I knew he had another woman. I followed him. And there she was, tied on the stinking floor of some abandoned cabin. I watched Davy through the window. Begging her to say she loved him, blah, blah, blah.

“Davy left an hour later and I let her go. I told her how to get down from the mountain. She begged me to take her with me. Like I wanted to help her? I sent her further into the canyon and caught up with Davy before he got to his truck.” She laughed, a surprisingly light and airy sound considering her words.

“I told him he had to kill her. She would turn him in to the police if he didn’t.” She shook her head. “I waited for him. It didn’t take long.”

She pushed Miranda forward. Miranda stumbled over a tree root and fell to her knees. Her stitches pulled and a thin trickle of blood slid down her leg. Delilah kicked her. “Get up!”

Miranda pushed herself up with her calves, legs spread for balance, her anger rising. She was terrified of what Delilah was capable of doing. She showed a complete and total indifference to the pain and suffering of others.

“You’re sick, Delilah. You. Getting a thrill out of watching your brother rape women.”

Miranda braced for an attack that didn’t come. Delilah remained silent, and Miranda realized then where they were headed. Her field. Her special meadow where she went to think, to relax, to celebrate life.

Had Delilah watched her sit in the middle of the wide, open space? Followed her? Stalked her? What about her sick brother? Had he?

At the far edge of the clearing, Delilah pushed Miranda down. She stumbled and couldn’t avoid her face hitting the ground. Tears sprang to her eyes, more from indignation and fear than pain.

Delilah looked delicate, but she was strong. She pushed Miranda up against a tree and sat her down, the rocks and sharp pine needles stabbing her butt and legs, but Miranda resisted the urge to cry out. She wouldn’t give the bitch the satisfaction. Delilah untied Miranda’s hands.

This was her opportunity.

Miranda swung her arms together toward Delilah. Anticipating the move, Delilah used the grip of her gun against the side of Miranda’s head. Miranda fell to the ground, her breath coming harsh and deep. She ground her teeth against the pain and nausea. Delilah pushed her up against the tree, binding her hands around it. Delilah pulled hard on her arms and Miranda cried out.

“What are you doing?” Miranda managed to ask.

“Waiting.”

“For what?”

“For your lover to show himself.”

“You’ll never get away with this.” That sounded so stupid! Worse, she feared Delilah was desperate enough to do anything.

Miranda ran scenarios through her head. She could scream, but Delilah would simply render her unconscious. She could kick out, hope to loosen the gun from her grip, but tied to the tree Miranda had no opportunity to seize the gun. The best chance she had was to warn Quinn when he came close enough. Warn him that it was a trap. She could only hope he would figure it out before it was too late.

“I watched you and that cop,” Delilah continued. “Screwing each other last night.”

She was there? She’d been so close and they hadn’t known. Miranda felt tainted that her most intimate moment with Quinn, their reunion, had been observed by such a twisted, sick individual.

“When I was little I never understood what was so wonderful about sex. It seemed so messy. Sweating bodies and all that. I used to watch my mother, after my daddy left us. Watch her with men. Watch her with Davy.”

Miranda’s ears perked up. Her mother had molested her own son? The whole family was deranged. A faint spark of pity shot through Miranda’s soul, but she suppressed it.
We all have choices. They chose to be evil.

Delilah said nothing for a long moment. Then, “I used to hate Davy. Mama loved him more. Cuddled him. Hugged him. I was the unwanted daughter. Daddy had loved me, but he left and never came back. Never, not even once. Just walked out the door.” She took a deep breath and shook the childlike tone from her voice. “But Mama loved Davy more and took him to her bed. Did everything for him. And I hated him. Of course, once I realized she was fucking him I sort of felt sorry for the kid. He’d lie there and cry. So pathetic. Why didn’t he fight back? Why didn’t he just leave?” She shook her head.

“I didn’t let him kill you,” Delilah told her.

Miranda stifled a response. Now was not the time to challenge Delilah.

“After you got away, he wanted to kill you, but you fought back. I admired that. And look how you repaid me. I gave you your
life
and you killed my brother!” She hit Miranda in the face and her head slammed into the tree. Miranda literally saw stars and shouted in pain.

“You sick bitch!”

“None of that,” Delilah said. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and stuffed it in Miranda’s mouth, then tied a length of rope around her face to keep the gag in place.

Miranda was now helpless to warn Quinn. Her stomach lurched. Please, please stay away.

I can’t bear to watch you die.

Officer Dick Walters was dead. Shot in the back of the head. And Miranda was missing.

Quinn turned from the cop’s faceless body on Miranda’s small porch and gave orders to the half-dozen sheriff’s deputies already there. More were on their way, plus additional FBI agents, but time was of the essence. Quinn couldn’t wait for more help.