Vicious (16 page)

By the time he made it back to the hot spring, he’d eaten the Nestlé Crunch and felt steadier. He called out for Moira a few more times. Maybe she’d discovered another trail and hiked back to the cabin on her own.

Leo continued along the pathway until he finally saw the cabin through the trees ahead. Emerging from the woods, he noticed Jordan’s car parked in the driveway, near the back of the house. On his way to the back door, Leo looped around to the car. Peeking inside, he checked out the gift-wrapped package and what was unmistakably a bakery cake box.

With a tired grin on his face, he turned and started down the flagstone walkway for the kitchen door. He hoped Moira would be there with Jordan, waiting for him. And if she wasn’t, she’d be back soon enough. Then they’d smooth things over, and everything would be okay.

Leo stepped inside the kitchen and let the screen door slam behind him. “Hey, is anyone home?” he called, making a beeline to the refrigerator. He grabbed the container of orange juice that had saved him last night and guzzled the rest of it down. “Anyone?” he called again.

No one answered.

But he heard a muffled whimpering sound from another room. Then someone grumbled,
“Shut up, goddamn it!”
Leo didn’t recognize the voice right away. It sounded a little like Jordan, but he couldn’t be sure. It was too distant and muted.

Baffled, Leo closed the refrigerator door and put the empty container on the counter. Heading toward the living room, he stopped at the bottom of the stairs. It didn’t sound like anyone was on the second floor. But he could still hear a person muttering and realized it was coming from the basement.

“Jordan?” he called, returning to the kitchen. He opened the basement door.

“Stay there!” Jordan yelled—with panic in his voice. “I’ll be right up, man!”

Leo laughed. Obviously, his buddy was hiding some birthday surprise down in the cellar. But then he heard a weird, muffled sobbing.

A puzzled smile frozen on his face, he took a few steps down. “What’s going on?”

“I mean it, get out!” Jordan shouted.

But it was too late.

“My God,” Leo whispered. Stunned, he gaped at his friend in the dank, cluttered cellar. He’d never seen Jordan look so haggard and crazy. His handsome face was red and dripping with perspiration. He had a knife in one hand; the other was clenched in a fist. He held a weird kind of attack stance as he stood there, trying in vain to block Leo’s view of a third person in the basement.

But Leo saw the man quite clearly. He was in his late thirties—with tears in his eyes and a wadded-up handkerchief crammed in his mouth. There were scratch marks on his face—along with a bloody gash on one cheek. His arms stretched out in front of him, he was leaning facedown over a wooden worktable. Layers of duct tape bound his hands together. A rope tied to his wrists wound around the tabletop several times. More duct tape had been used to secure his ankles to two of the worktable’s thick legs.

The man stared at Leo, his eyes pleading. He tried to cry out past the gag in his mouth.

Jordan swiveled around. “Shut up!” he growled, raising his fist at the helpless man.

Leo stood on the basement stairs and shook his head in disbelief. “Jesus, Jordan, what—what the hell are you doing?”

“I didn’t want you to see this,” Jordan muttered, his back to him.

“But—what—” Leo couldn’t even get the words out. He clutched the banister. “Why are you—”

“Go back upstairs,” Jordan whispered.

“No!” Leo said. “What are you doing? Who is that?”

Jordan turned to glare at him. His breathing didn’t sound normal, and he still had that strange attack stance.

“Who is he?” Leo repeated.

With the knife, he pointed at the bound and gagged man behind him. “He’s
Mama’s Boy
,” Jordan said steadily. “Remember Mama’s Boy? He killed at least sixteen women. And one of them was my mother.”

“You definitely need some Tic Tacs or something, because your breath stinks!” the donkey with the voice of Eddie Murphy was telling Shrek.

Mattie screeched with laughter as if this were the first time he’d heard that line. Actually, this was probably his eighth viewing of
Shrek
.

Susan had tried to get him to take a nap after lunch, but he’d been too keyed up. So she’d compromised and let him lay on the sunroom sofa with a blanket over him and
Shrek
to keep him company.

With a leather-bound folder tucked under her arm, Susan glanced out the sliding glass door at the backyard. Then she went to the window above the kitchen sink and peered out at the woods. Finally, she took a long look out the living room window at the driveway. Since lunch, she’d been going through this routine every few minutes. There was still no sign of Allen. But she wasn’t just keeping a lookout for her fiancé. She also needed to make sure that hunter hadn’t come back.

The folder belonged to Allen, and he’d brought it along for the trip. It was full of information he’d gathered for this weekend getaway. He was always very organized when they traveled. Susan had seen him refer to the papers inside his folder a few times this week, but she’d never really looked at it herself. She’d just retrieved it from the nightstand on Allen’s side of the bed upstairs.

Sitting down at the dining room table, she opened the folder and glanced at a printout of the MapQuest directions to the Cullen house—just like the one he’d given her.

In the sunroom, Mattie was giggling at the movie. This weekend vacation was supposed to be spent sailing, hiking, and appreciating the great outdoors. So far, her son had spent most of his time inside watching DVDs he’d already seen.

And so far, this
getaway
had been nothing but trouble. Allen had never really answered her question last night: “I don’t understand why you felt you needed to bring a gun along this weekend. I mean, were you expecting trouble?”

There was something about his planning this trip that had seemed very rushed and forced. Early in the week, he’d suddenly decided they needed to go to Cullen. Susan wondered if he’d had some ulterior motive for this sojourn. Was there someone else he planned to see here, someone he expected trouble from?

Susan hoped to find something about his personal travel plans in Allen’s folder, some clue that would help her figure out what had happened to him. He’d been gone for two and a half hours for an errand that should have taken fifteen minutes.

He had a printout with photos of the rental house here at Twenty-two Birch—along with a listing of all the dimensions and amenities. He had an e-mail confirmation, too. There was a similar printout of the boat he’d rented,
The Seaworthy,
and confirmation for that, too. Susan remembered the e-mail she’d read on the computer in the boat’s cabin earlier:
We apologize again for the confusion with the other boat, and we’re happy we could meet your specific request.
From the table, Susan glanced toward the dining room window at
The Seaworthy
moored at the rickety, old dock. She wondered,
Why that particular boat?

She found a printout for a restaurant, The Willow Tree Inn, along with a coupon for a free dessert. Both the coupon and the printout had
Reservations Strongly Recommended for Weekend Dinners and Brunches
posted on it. Allen had talked about going there for dinner tonight, but they hadn’t discussed a particular time yet.

She came across another page—from an Internet weather site, showing the five-day forecast for Cullen, Washington. It was supposed to go down to the mid fifties and rain tomorrow.

Finally, Susan uncovered some notes Allen had scribbled on a sheet of yellow legal paper:

• –Bayside Rentals – ck everything works on boat & arrange delivery.
  
• –Ck w/house rental, make sure place is cleaned. Pick up keys.
  
• –Gas/coal for BBQ?
  
• –Buy groceries.
  
• –Sue & M arrive by 1 PM.
  
• –SAT – sail w/Sue & M by noon for @ least 4 hrs.
  

Susan glanced at the back of the yellow piece of paper. It was blank. There was nothing about returning the boat or turning in the keys to the house on Sunday. Allen’s notes to himself ended once he’d taken her and Mattie sailing this afternoon.

Another thing that struck her as odd: he hadn’t jotted down any time for dinner at this restaurant, which
strongly recommended
reservations, and yet he’d allotted a specific time for sailing. Why did they have to sail for at least four hours?

That hunter had shown up in their yard around noon. Was that just a coincidence? It had been the same time they were supposed to be out on the boat.

There were no notes or printed e-mails indicating Allen was supposed to meet someone. But she couldn’t get over the feeling it was part of a private agenda for this trip.

Susan closed the folder. If only she could, she’d pack up their stuff, load Mattie in the car, and just head straight for home right now. She really hated this place. The last straw had been the sheriff—of all people—stealing her panties.

Mattie let out a shriek of laughter in the next room.

Rubbing her head, Susan got up from the table and conducted another window check. She tried to figure it out. Allen had last been seen at Rosie’s Roadside Sundries. Somewhere between there and this house, he’d disappeared. That teenager, Jordan Prewitt, he’d been at the store the same time as Allen. And he’d mentioned yesterday that he was one of their closest neighbors, a little over a mile away.

Susan went back to the dining room table and pulled a pen from her purse. She wrote on the back of Allen’s MapQuest directions:

She’d hidden the flare gun and extra flares in the kitchen cabinet above the sink—just in case she needed it again. She retrieved the gun and some flares, then stuck them in her purse.

It was tough tearing Mattie away from
Shrek
, and then he insisted he write
HELLO!
with a smiling face in the
O
at the bottom of her note to Allen. After about ten minutes, they finally got on the road.

Rosie had mentioned where the Prewitt family cabin was, but Susan had forgotten the street name. Driving up Carroll Creek Road, she slowed down at every little avenue and private lane along the way. There was no one behind her, so she could take her time. None of the road signs jogged her memory, and she didn’t notice a black BMW parked along any of those little arteries.

All the while, Mattie was in his safety seat in back with Woody, reciting his favorite lines from
Shrek
and trying to imitate the voices.

Susan decided to go to the grocery store and ask Rosie for directions to Jordy Prewitt’s cabin.

“Their place is on Cedar Crest Way,” Rosie told her, five minutes later. “It’s really just a long private driveway. The Prewitts’ cabin is the only house there. They’re smack dab halfway between here and where you’re staying on Birch.” She put on her glasses, and on the back of a flier, she sketched out a crude map.

Susan held on to Mattie’s hand. She’d bought him a box of animal crackers.

“I’m awfully sorry your fiancé is still M.I.A.,” Rosie said, leaning on the counter to draw her map. “You’re smart to check with Jordan though—just to make sure he didn’t see anything on his way home. Like I told you, he got sick all of a sudden and hurried out of the store while your fiancé was still—”

Rosie didn’t finish. She glanced up and squinted at Susan. “Did I tell you earlier that Jordan left before your fiancé?”

Susan nodded.

Rosie sighed. “Oh, hon, I feel like the village idiot. Now that I think about it, Jordy left
after
your fiancé. He was still in the parking lot when your mister drove away.” She took off her glasses. “You know, it’s quite possible Jordy got a look at which direction your man was headed. At the very least, he could tell you that much.”

Susan nodded again. At last, she finally had some kind of lead. Peering over the counter, she studied the map Rosie had drawn. “So—Cedar Crest Way,” she said. “Exactly how do I get there?”

In the basement of the brown-shingle cabin at the end of Cedar Crest Way, Leo was trying his best to comprehend what his friend had done. Jordan still stood between him and the helpless, gagged man facedown across the worktable. The knife ready in his hand, Jordan hadn’t yet dropped that threatening stance. Leo knew his friend wouldn’t ever use that knife on him. But he was almost certain that if he’d tried to pass him by and help the man, Jordan would punch his lights out.

He remained at the bottom of the basement stairs. He couldn’t believe Jordan was capable of this. It didn’t make any sense.

“I thought your mom died in a car accident,” Leo murmured.

“I lied. I was ashamed, okay?”

“Ashamed?” Leo repeated.

Tears welled in Jordan’s eyes. “I was there when he knocked my mother down and dragged her away. I was there, and I couldn’t help her. I was eight years old at the time.”

Baffled, Leo shook his head. The man moaned and whimpered past the gag in his mouth. His eyes kept pleading with him for some kind of intervention.

“Where’s Moira?” Jordan asked. “You can’t let her see this.”

“She’s still in the woods. She wanted to be alone. Listen, Jordan—”

“You need to do something for me,” Jordan interrupted. He was still breathing hard, and his voice had a tremor in it. “Go upstairs, pack all your shit and her shit, and then wait for her outside. She can’t see any of this; she can’t know. I want you guys to go, just drive away. Go home. And you can’t tell her about this, Leo. The biggest favor you can do for me is to forget all about it….”

“C’mon, Jordan, you know I can’t do that.” Leo started to move toward him.

“Goddamn it!” he growled. “Do I have to tie you up, too? Because I will if it looks like you’re going to screw this up for me. I swear to God…”

Leo took a deep breath. He wished his friend would put that stupid knife down. He pointed to the helpless man. “If this guy is a murderer—like you say—then let’s call the police.”

The muted whining from Jordan’s prisoner suddenly escalated. Leo glanced at him, and the man nodded emphatically. Leo realized the poor guy wanted him to call the police.

“I don’t trust the cops around here,” Jordan said. “The sheriff’s a scumbag. He let this son of a bitch get away at least twice—”

“What do you mean?” Leo asked.

“My mother was killed here in Cullen,” Jordan explained. “Her family used to have a vacation house about a mile down the road—by the bay. She and my dad divorced, and I was staying with her for the weekend. The first day I got here,” he turned toward his captive, “this piece of shit was stalking us….”

The man started whimpering louder again, and he shook his head.

“My mom called the cops,” Jordan said, almost yelling to be heard over him. “The sheriff came out and didn’t do a damn thing. He treated my mother like she was crazy. And the next day,
he
”—Jordan nodded at his prisoner—“he showed up in the backyard. My mom was on the dock, and I was in a boat on the water. I watched him come down to the dock and attack my mother. He kept hitting her. I couldn’t get to her in time. As much as I tried, I couldn’t save her. I watched him knock her unconscious and carry her off.”

The man was shaking his head adamantly. He tugged at the rope restraining his taped-up wrists; then he finally gave up and dropped his forehead against the worktable. He started crying.

Leo just stared at him—and then at his friend. It was all coming at him too fast. He still couldn’t believe Jordan had been lying to him about his mother’s death for so many years. Now, suddenly, he claimed to have found her killer. Leo couldn’t help thinking his friend had snapped and lost his mind. Jordan didn’t mess around with drugs. So what other explanation was there? Leo had never before been afraid of Jordan, but he was scared of him now.

“The sheriff didn’t take it too seriously,” Jordan continued, a bitterness creeping into his tone. He turned to glare at the man. “You left me a little sailor doll, your Mama’s Boy calling card. The stupid sheriff thought it was mine. He didn’t think to ask. He didn’t think Mama’s Boy would be working so far north of Seattle.” Jordan rubbed his forehead. “The first few hours—the most important hours when we might have gotten to her on time—the damn sheriff hardly did anything. He just recruited a few flunky cops from neighboring communities to form a search party for her. Like I say, he just didn’t take it seriously enough. What he really should have done was call the state police and the FBI….”

“I don’t understand,” Leo murmured. “You said you saw her get abducted. You were an eyewitness. Why didn’t he take it seriously?”

“Because,” Jordan hesitated. “My mom had problems. He thought she’d wandered off with some guy, and I’d exaggerated about it.”

“What do you mean your mom had
problems
?”

“What does it fucking matter?” Jordan screamed. He stabbed his finger in the direction of the man. “What matters is that he beat and strangled my mother to death. Then he came back. He got past the sheriff and all those other idiot cops and dumped her body in the forest by our house.” Jordan swiveled around and grabbed his prisoner by the hair. Yanking his head back, he put the knife to his throat.

“No, Jordan!” Leo yelled, rushing to stop his friend. “Jesus, please, wait…don’t…”

“You probably thought you were being so damn clever,” he growled into the man’s ear. His hand shook as he traced a thin line of blood on his prisoner’s neck with the knifepoint. “Weren’t you the smug bastard? Sneaking past all those police and throwing her in those woods so close to where you took her? I bet that gave you a big rush. Did it make you feel superior?”