True Love Lost (An FBI Romance Thriller (book 3)) (78 page)

“Okay.”

“Is that a problem?” she asked. “If it is, drop me off, and I’ll get them out myself.”

He looked over at her and grinned. “You have to be the feistiest woman I have ever met in my life.
Do you have a sister?”

Elizabeth grinned back. “Nope but I do try to be feisty. It keeps the marriage fresh and Ethan on his toes.
”

“Yeah, I can tell,” he
laughed, pulling the Denali into the woods and turning it off. “We hike over the clearing to the house. Stay low; he’ll have a clear view of us if he looks out the back windows. We also will have a clear view of him.”

“I’m going into his house, and I want you to stay out and get ready to pick him off if he gets too close to killing anyone. Clear?”

“Yes.”

“Kevlar is in the back. “You can use my husband’s and I’m going in without. You are my back up. Don’t shoot me.” She said, hopping out and running to the back to grab her tactical shotgun and handing it to him after he suited up.

“Ready, Elizabeth?” he asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Whitefox felt the gray breaking up and the room stopped spinning. He had one hell of a headache, and had no clue what the hell happened. One minute he was loading up the dead body and the next…

Oh shit, that’s right. He struggled to move, and found himself strapped to something hard and cold. His shirt was gone and he had that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Slowly opening his eyes, he turned his head, and could see Desdemona
bound to a chair, hands bound in front of her and her eyes closed. He tried to call to her, but there was tape over his mouth. Damn it, not only did the killer have him, he had her too.

Desdemona heard the noise and shook her head to signal him. Immediately, she watched him close his eyes again, and pretend he was still unconscious. She said a silent prayer and hoped someone would be in time, or they were both going to die.

“Are we ready for the party?” came the voice, as he entered the room.

Desdemona stared up in horror. There was Randy Duffy, dressed as a woman and wearing a
scalp covered in blonde hair.

It looked like they were both wrong and right.
It was a man masquerading as a woman. The blond scalp explained the trace.

“Why are you doing this, Randy?” she asked, trying to get some answers.

“I’m not Randy,” she said. “Randy is my lover. I need to help get him better so he can come back home,” she answered.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Suzan Hollister, and I’m in love with Randy, and want to make him happy,” she answered. “I need to make him very happy or bad things happen.”

Desdemona could tell she was dealing with a nut case. She reached back into her mind to the psychology rotation in medical school and started to piece it together.

“What happened to Randy?” she asked, hoping the killer would stay calm.

The killer
looked confused. “I don’t know. Just one day he was here and the next he was gone.”

Desdemona could tell that Randy believed every word he was
speaking, and that made it even more dangerous and troublesome. How the hell do you rationalize with someone that’s lost their self in some fractured state of psychosis? “Tell me about you, Suzan. I want to know about you. How long have you been dating Randy?”

“Oh well I
think we’ve been together for a while, but I’m not sure. Time flies when you’re in love. I want to marry Randy, but he said he needs to live with me for a while. Then he’ll decide if I’m worthy of marriage. Randy says you shouldn’t rush into marriage unless you know it’s absolutely right.”

This may be the only time in Desdemona’s life she was going to agree with a nutcase. It was funny how a serial killer knew what her fiancé didn’t.

The killer played with the blonde hair. “He’s very hard to please, and sometimes he has a very bad temper, but I still love him. He’s a very good man and promised to take care of me for the rest of my life if I just followed the rules.”

“What kind of rules do you have to follow?” she asked, trying to keep Randy’s attention for as long as she could.

“Why do you ask?” There was nothing but suspicion in the voice.

“I’m getting married
too, and I just wanted to know what kind of rules that I might need to follow to please my husband.”

“Oh! Ok,” he smiled.

Desdemona watched the man try to process the question, and she started to analyze what could possibly be the issue with his mind. It seemed fractured and split into two personalities.

“I have to make sure the house is clean and that there are three beers ready for him in the refrigerator when he comes home from work. Then dinner had to be ready and hot or he gets mad.”

Desdemona nodded. “Has he hurt you when you broke the rules?” she asked, softly. There were a few mental issues that this fell under, and she needed to keep Randy talking a little bit longer until she figured it out, and then maybe she could talk Randy down from the crazy ledge.

“There was only the one time
that he really hurt me. We had a terrible fight and it didn’t end well.”

“Why don’t you tell me about it?” asked Desdemona, trying to put as much caring in her voice as possible.
She needed to win the woman over to her side and maybe save Callen Whitefox’s life. “So I don’t make the same mistake.”

“I was late with dinner, and he got angry at the way I dressed. When he came home we had a fight and he hit me,” then she looked confused. “I don’t remember anything after that
.”

Randy looked confused, as if he was struggling to figure out who he was, and who he wasn’t.

Desdemona knew what the problem was immediately. The corpse they recovered had blunt force trauma to the back of the skull, and she was betting that during that fight Randy took Suzan’s life, probably accidentally. The trauma of what he did, split his conscience in two, and he wasn’t aware of what the other part of his mind was doing. Typical dissociative disorder and the bad news for her was that there wasn’t going to be a way to talk Randy out of it. Now it made complete sense. He was killing men to recreate himself, because in his mind he’d taken on the weaker personality. The day he killed the woman he ‘
loved
’, he lost the ability to deal with the emotional and psychological consequences of it. Turning into himself, he’d given himself an escape from his actions. By becoming Suzan part time, he was able to rationalize that she was still alive and he wasn’t a murderer. The longer Randy went without help, the more fractured his mind would become, and eventually he’d stop being able to slip back into reality.

“Suzan, you need to listen to me. You have to let us both go, and we’ll help you find Randy, and put him back together,” she cajoled in an attempt to get Callen Whitefox free. If she had to fight Randy, there wasn’t going to be a good outcome.
He was as big as Callen and was more beefy. She’d be hurt or killed.

“I need one last part, and then Randy will come home,” she said, looking over at the man strapped to the table. “I need his heart, and you’re going to remove it for me. I know how delicate the heart is, and I need a doctor to help me.”

Hell no! She wasn’t cutting her fiancé’s heart out of his chest. Randy would just have to kill her first. It wasn’t happening.

“Suzan, if we cut his heart out, it won’t bring back Randy, and then he’ll die too. You’re going to go to jail for all this killing.”

Randy laughed this twisted and sick laugh. “No I’m not. They won’t find my dates, and they won’t trace you back to me. I just need you to operate and take out his heart.”

“Randy, I need to talk to you,” pleaded Desdemona.

Randy looked at her with a look of complete confusion. “Randy isn't here, I have to find the pieces of him and remake him. I already told you that.”

Callen was quietly trying to get his fingers into his back pocket. Inside was a pocket knife, and if he could reach it, he might be able to saw through the restraints. He didn’t want Desdemona to deal with this wackjob on her own. He listened to everything he was say
ing to her, and the man was completely unhinged. Whitefox wished he could open his eyes, but he had a feeling if he did, the festivities of cutting his heart out would begin. He had to buy them more time, and in the back of his mind he was praying that Elizabeth had found them missing and was at that exact moment putting it all together to save their asses. He had to put his faith in the woman that owned his heart or he was literally going to lose his own.

‘Please Elizabeth, I believe in you,
’ he whispered into his own mind. He trusted the woman he loved now more than ever.

                        *     *     *

The snow was falling fairly heavily, as Elizabeth navigated the tree line surrounding Randy Duffy’s home. From the perimeter of the yard, she could see inside the house. Randy was nice enough to turn almost all the lights on inside.

He must not have been expecting company. His idiocy was her good luck.

Creeping up to the side of the tech van, she snuck to the back, hoping and praying that if Callen was inside, he wasn’t dead. The tire iron could have ended his life in one strike.

Opening the back, she peeked inside and found blood. There wasn’t enough to be a massive head wound, and that gave her some relief. Then she thought about Callen and the other victims.
Callen losing any part of his body was unacceptable to her. She loved him, and wasn’t letting Randy take his life. Elizabeth had made a promise to Timothy, and she wasn’t going to be telling him she failed.

Moving soundlessly through the accumulating snow, all she hoped was Randy didn’t look outside and see tracks.
If he did, then the jig was up. Leaning against the house, Elizabeth peeked in the living room window. There was a couch, a recliner and immaculately fluffed pillows. The house was spotless and looked like it was staged for company.

Ducking under the window, she moved closer to the front door. Next was the kitchen window, and although higher off the ground, she could still see in, barely. Inside were candles lit, food on top of the oven, and
three wine glasses. One held a clear liquid and the other two a murky substance. That had to be the hydraulic fluid. It looked like Doctor Adare wasn’t leaving the house alive either. All she could hope at that point was if Callen had been force fed the wicked brew, they’d have time to get him medical attention. Desdemona told her twenty four hours, and that replayed over and over in her mind.

Sliding down the house, Elizabeth stood at a door. Looking in the window, it appeared to lead into a mud room. Elizabeth planned out her tactical plan. The lights were on in the garage, and that was the likely place Desdemona and Callen were being held. There appeared to be an opening that led to the garage. Elizabeth took a deep breath and
paused at the door. If anyone came around the corner with a weapon, she was at a disadvantage. Whispering into the COM at her neck, she needed eyes inside the house. From Julian’s hiding place, he could see in the back windows of the house and garage.

“Julian, do you have
the killer in sight?” Her voice was so low; she hoped he’d hear her over the wind.

“Affirmative. I have Randy in my sights, and you’re not going to believe it when you see it. Be careful. He’s standing approximately
at your ten o’clock when you come in the room.”

Elizabeth had no idea what he meant
about her not believing it when she saw it, but that would have to wait.

“Cover me, and
whatever you do, don’t shoot me or Ethan’s going to be pissed off.”

Julian’s laughter came through the ear piece. “You have no idea.”

Cracking the door open, Elizabeth slowly searched the room for anything that was set up to alert Randy to an intruder. Everything looked clear. Listening, she could hear the talking, and strained her ears to figure out who it was speaking.

“Julian,” she called over the COM. “Can you tell me where Callen and Desdemona are?”

“Negative. I can’t see either. I see Randy pacing nervously. Maybe they’re restrained on the floor.”

Elizabeth felt her stomach getting sick. Desdemona she could hear and Randy too, but no Callen. Sliding along the wall, she could peek around the wall and peer into the
garage. Strapped to the table was a shirtless Whitefox, a cut on the side of his head and dried blood. His eyes were closed, but she saw motion as he was struggling to get to his pocket. Callen was alive and trying to get free. If his eyes were open, she would have given him a sign. Knowing that Randy couldn’t use him as a shield helped her relax marginally. Now it was going to come down to how to take down Randy and save Desdemona.

Settling in, Elizabeth waited until the right moment to make her move. If she rushed in the man could
kill Desdemona. What she needed was the perfect shot. Elizabeth focused on the man’s voice, had her Glock pulled and ready, and waited. Randy Duffy picked the wrong family to try and kill. Obviously no one warned the fruit loop that she didn’t have a problem with pulling the trigger.