Aquarius (Zodiac Killers Book 3)

by WL Knightly

  Darek thought Logan was clever for bringing up tattoos, considering Victor Barnes had been a tattoo artist. The information had been all over the news, and it was a good attempt at redirecting Lizzy.

  “I’ve heard of that,” she said. “In fact, I’ve seen the equipment used, and it’s nothing like this.” She held up the plastic-wrapped, twelve-inch handle which had a small spiral around the end for grip, which was visible through all the evidence labeling. “Those shops use a tool more like a pen than a long iron.”

  “Oh, well, as you can see, I don’t know much about branding flesh.”

  “You know what I think? I think that whoever killed your girlfriend was coming for you.”

  “Why would someone come for me?” Logan asked.

  “I don’t know, but you’re the Aquarius. Tad was the Capricorn, and he’s dead. Maybe that knife blade was intended for you?”

  “I can’t think of any reason.”

  “You don’t have any enemies?” Darek leaned forward and flattened his palms on the desk. “Everyone has enemies. Maybe there was someone back at that camp?”

  Logan narrowed his eyes at Darek and then turned back to Lizzy. “I didn’t have many friends at camp; I kept to myself. Tad was a bit of a loner, too. He didn’t talk much. Now, I think it’s because of being abused like he was. I can’t see any reason anyone from that place would have a problem with me or him.”

  “I’m only asking because I’m concerned for your safety. Whoever did this, they are liable to come back, and Lizzy has a point. It seems you must have been the intended target.” Darek still wouldn’t tell the man he’d gotten a direct message from the killer, but it had only been a symbol. He didn’t want to be the guy who had held the info from him, but some things were just necessary.

  Lizzy leaned in. “If you think of something or remember anything, please call us. Until the rest of this evidence is in, I’m afraid these brands are all we have to go on.”

  “I will. And if you hear anything, call me. I really want to know who did this. Roland, her son, he hasn’t even called me with the funeral arrangements. I know she’d want me there, and I need to have closure.”

  “We’ll be in touch.” Lizzy grabbed her irons and threw them into her bag, the clanking metal ringing out loudly in the room.

  She turned and walked out without another word, and Darek stood, reaching out his hand and offering an apologetic smile. “Keep in touch, man.”

  He looked over to Logan’s lawyer, who hadn’t said two words since they came in, and when she got to her feet, she leaned down at his shoulder and whispered: “Thank you.” Then she grabbed her case and headed out of the room.

  “I can try to pass along those arrangements if you want,” Darek said. “I’m sure Roland would give them to me. But I’m not sure if you going to her funeral would be the best idea. Maybe after she’s laid to rest.”

  “She wanted to be cremated.” Logan gave a half-hearted chuckle. “My Lidia was very vain. She once told me she didn’t want anyone looking at her lying in one of those morbid boxes with too much makeup and hair that some beauty school student had earned extra credit on.”

  “I’m really sorry, man.” Darek looked at the two-way mirror and then gave him a pat on the back. “If you can help us in any way, give us a call. Any tiny piece of evidence could help us find this creep.”

  “I will.”

  Darek walked Logan out of the room, and as he went one way, Darek went the other, hoping to find Lizzy.

  She was in the office with the two irons in front of her, still tucked in her evidence plastics. “I think he’s lying about the camp.”

  “Why is that?” Darek asked.

  “Because that’s his and Tad’s connection, and if Hannah says that Tad got branded at that place, then I’d think that his friend would have known about it.”

  “Unless it was something he was ashamed of. Maybe something happened to Tad that had to do with his past. There could have been someone there who knew his uncle, someone who took him in there as a favor.”

  “I need to look at the registration roster. To see if the years match up. Hannah could tell me which year it was, and maybe I can cross-reference that to which counselors were there. I’m planning that trip for as soon as possible.”

  Darek knew that Tad had been added to the group and branded two years before he had, which was a year he hadn’t attended. So, unless she wanted to see the years following, she’d never find out about him. She would see the name of his divorce lawyer, and Bay wasn’t going to like it one bit.

  19

  Logan

  Logan had been shaken at the meeting, but since he had to keep his cool, his freak out had only been on the inside.

  Once home, he stood shirtless in front of his bathroom mirror and looked at the mark that connected him to Lidia’s murder. He couldn’t believe she’d been branded like him with the same mark. He thought of all the times she’d traced her fingers over the ugly scar and told him how sexy he was.

  He turned and fell before the toilet, making it to his knees just in time to expel what little coffee he’d had. Then he turned to sit on the floor.

  How had everything gotten so messed up? The detectives had at least admitted that they didn’t think he did it, but he still had to face whoever was coming for him.

  It had been hard to lie about the brands, and he hoped that his prints hadn’t been found on them. He knew he’d have to make up a good excuse if they were. He wondered how long prints lingered. Hopefully, the killer had wiped it clean, not wanting to leave theirs behind.

  He wanted to stop thinking about it. He texted Hannah to tell her he was back home, and he got a message that she would be at least another hour. So, he was left to his own devices.

  Even though it was early, he poured himself a drink and laid on his couch to think about his life and drown in self-pity. He had done a bad thing, and now, it was time to pay the piper. Part of him wished he knew the person responsible so he could go to them willingly and ask them to put him out of his misery, but then he thought of Hannah and knew he didn’t want to cause her more grief and pain, and he damned sure didn’t want her to be killed, too. He was no good for her and was only putting her in danger, but even though he’d told her that the last time they’d been together, she had covered his lips with her finger and told him not to talk that way.

  She’d insisted that they were both victims, but he knew the truth. His ugly deed had put Lidia in the crossfire, and it would do the same to Hannah. He kept hearing the voice of the FBI agent over and over, and even Darek had agreed, that the killer had been after him and not Lidia. She was collateral damage. Her son had been right; it was all Logan’s fault. He hadn’t put the knife in her, but he’d given the killer a reason.

  He downed another shot and then another, coughing and gagging as the heat hit his throat. He wasn’t ever a heavy drinker, but if he could drink enough to forget the morning, enough to drown out the blame and guilt, he might just be okay.

  He remembered that first night back at camp when the praises had stopped, and Bay told them they were going to be branded, initiated into the same group, and bonded forever as brothers. He’d made the entire thing sound so glamorous and appealing. He had chosen the spot on their arms where they might be able to conceal it if needed.

  Logan remembered thinking his mother was going to shit when she saw the burn and that he wasn’t going to get to make any more art pieces in the studio. She had watched him make them, and as far as he knew, she hadn’t even found it odd that he was making irons for branding. Of course, he hadn’t thought it weird, either. He expected the brands to be used for marking wood or as keepsakes for each of them. He never expected that they would actually use the things on each other.

  After they had all taken their turn and the marks were all slathered in the medication Bay had stolen from the first-aid station, they continued to drink until he forgot all about the pain and passed out. He wasn’t even sure how he got ba
ck to the camp from the old millhouse that morning, but to him, it didn’t matter. One of his brothers had picked him up and hauled him home because that was what friends did for one another.

  When he got home, his mother came to his room to unpack his things and found him slathering the burn with medicine. It was healing nicely but had started to itch.

  “Logan Michael Miller, what have you done to yourself?” She walked over and jerked him up by his arm and screamed when she saw the mark. “You used that thing on yourself?”

  Hank had run into the room to see what was the matter, and when he saw the marking, he shook his head. “Do you think that makes you a man?” He laughed. “That doesn’t make you a man, son. It makes you a dumbass.”

  “Why would you do this?” his mother asked.

  “I like it.” He’d pulled away and walked to stand in front of the dresser where he kept his head down.

  When he glanced up, Hank had walked over and stood behind his mother wrapping his arm around her. “Come on, honey. There ain’t shit you can do about that now. You might as well let it heal.” He kissed her neck, and she looked at Logan like she had never been more disappointed.

  Then she turned to Hank. “It is kind of pretty.”

  “Pretty? Hell, woman. Would you stop coddling him?” He slapped her ass, and she giggled and threw her arms around him, and the two hurried out to go to her room. He looked in the mirror at the marking, which was still a mess of healing flesh, and he wished he’d never done it.

  But like Hank said, there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

  Or was there?

  He looked at the bottle and decided to pour another shot. He drank the shot and then felt the heat spread clear down to his toes. He was feeling pretty good.

  He reached up with his right hand and traced the wavy lines of his scar. He couldn’t be found with the thing. He hated that he’d told Hannah about it and that he’d shown her. Bay wasn’t happy that she knew, and he wondered if she’d tell anyone. There was only one way to make sure the iron didn’t link back to him, and it was something he should have done a long time ago.

  He got to his feet and headed down to his studio. He knew he had to get rid of the marking, but just covering the area wouldn’t do. He had to make sure that there was no trace of wavy lines or anything that could line up with the original brand. He picked up the blade that he’d used to make patterns and considered mutilating the flesh to distort the design, but instead, he turned his head and looked over at the floor where a pile of large scraps lay scattered. A large piece caught his eye. It was oddly triangular, and the shape would not only cover, but distract from anything that had been there before.

  Logan took the metal, and after grabbing his gloves, he attached it to another long piece of scrap so he could hold on to it. Then, he got his torch and heated the piece until it was glowing so white, it hurt his eyes to look at it.

  He braced himself and bit down on a rag he had nearby. After taking a deep breath, he stuck the fiery metal against his shoulder, burning away any evidence of the Aquarius symbol.

  Logan dropped the makeshift iron and fell to his knees. He was so drunk that the pain nearly put him in shock. He rolled over onto the floor, curling into a fetal position as he thought of Emily Johnson. The poor girl had been so helpless, lying there trembling, crying with huge, fat tears spilling down her cheeks. Her pleading eyes begged one of them to have mercy and help her, but not one of them did. They’d shut her up and carved her up, just like that monster had done to Lidia.

  He was no better, and because of his decisions to follow along with the group, not only was Lidia dead, but so was a young girl who had barely had a chance to live.

  All it would have taken was for him to stand up to Bay and tell him, no. To point out that what they were doing wasn’t right and go for help. But instead, he had played a sheep and done exactly like the others.

  Whatever hell was coming for him, he deserved it.

  20

  Logan

  Logan heard a banging noise at his door and then the frantic voice of Hannah calling out to him. He opened his eyes and realized that she must have been knocking for a while because he was lying on the floor and hadn’t remembered what happened. He looked at his shoulder, which was a nasty, bubbling blister around the edges and a third-degree burn at the very center. He looked around for a shirt, but all he found was a towel, which he’d bitten down on.

  “Logan!” She pounded on the metal door, and he decided he couldn’t hide what he’d done. He hurried over and opened the door.

  “Sorry, I was taking a nap.”

  “I’ve been knocking and calling you for twenty minutes. I even called your phone.” She went to fall against him but then saw the angry flesh. “What the hell have you done to yourself?”

  She sounded just like his mother, and it made his skin crawl. “I had to get rid of it.”

  “You did this since I talked to you?” She leaned in and waved her hand in front of her face in reaction to his boozy breath. “And you’ve been drinking. Just great.”

  “I needed it gone, Hannah. I couldn’t live with it or what it meant anymore.”

  “What did it mean, Logan? It was more than a stupid boys club, wasn’t it?”

  “That’s just it. I can’t tell you what it was about or what happened.”

  Her eyes pleaded with him. “Tell me. My brother was involved in that club, wasn’t he? I deserve to know what he died protecting. Who was he protecting?” She gave him a shake. “Tell me who!”

  “All of us.” He was so confused that he walked around in a circle before heading upstairs. She ran up behind him. “I had to get out. Don’t you see that? I’m trying to be better for us.”

  “Not like this! Not like whatever you’re doing, Logan. Let me help you.” She grabbed his arm once they reached the top of the stairs, and he pulled away and went over to the couch where he plopped down and buried his face in his hands.

  “I don’t deserve help.” He shook his head.

  “I’m a nurse, remember. It’s what I do; I help people with injuries, so you’re going to have to let me tend to that wound, like it or not.”

  “You should leave me. You should just go and pretend you never knew me.” That would have been what was best for her safety.

  “Don’t tell me shit like that. If you want to talk, start telling me what this is all about. Because I’m not going to fucking leave this house until I get the answers that I want from you and I’ve made sure you’re bandaged.”

  He searched her eyes. “Why do you want to help me?”

  “Because you helped me.” She broke down in tears, and her chin quivered, bringing Logan to his feet.

  “Don’t cry.” He walked over and pulled her close. “I think we’ve both cried enough tears. I just wish it was better. I’m trying to make it that way.”

  “What did the cops say?” she asked. “Are they going to arrest you?”

  “They don’t think I did it. I didn’t do it, you know, but I am guilty. What happened, it was my fault. I couldn’t do a damned thing about it, and I didn’t know she was going to die.”

  “You’re talking in circles, Logan.” She brought her arms around him and held him tight. “Of course, you didn’t have anything to do with Lidia’s death. I know that. You don’t have to worry, and stop blaming yourself.”

  He swayed on his feet, but she held him steady. “No, not her. The other one. The girl. Emily. They reminded me that her name was Emily.” The fog in his brain suddenly cleared, and he realized what he’d said.

  Hannah narrowed her eyes. “Emily?”

  Logan’s eyes widened. He covered his sweat-soaked lip and shook his head. “You have to leave.”

  “No. I want to know what happened in this club. I want to know what was so special that you felt the need to burn your fucking Zodiac symbol into your skin, and then what in heavens possessed you to burn it off.” She pushed against him. He lost his balance and stumbled a b
it, his head spinning as the pain started to come back in his shoulder.

  “Is Emily an old girlfriend?” She threw her hands out and gave him a pointed look.

  “No, not that. Forget I said her name.” He pegged her with a hard glare, and she flinched back as if she wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t get physical with her.

  Logan noticed her recoil. “You’re right to pull away.”

  He would never hit her, but just knowing him was bad enough to land her dead if this monster decided to do so.

  “I care about you, but you’re scaring me.” She brought her arms in close around her front.

  “I don’t mean to.” He reached out for her, but she shook her head.

  “I thought you liked me, Logan. I thought we had something, but I can’t be with you if you’re not going to be honest with me.” She turned, but he grabbed hold of her arm and spun her around to hold her tight.

  “Don’t fucking go.” He never wanted her to go anywhere without him. He was falling for her so desperately that he never wanted to let her go.

  “Talk to me,” she said. “You can trust me not to tell a soul. I just need to know. I deserve to know.” She gave him a pleading look that sent chills up his spine. It was the same type of look that Emily had given him and the others eleven years back.

  He cupped her face and stared deep into her eyes. “Promise you won’t hate me. Promise me that you won’t ever tell a soul.”

  She stepped forward and placed her hand on his chest, right over his heart. “I care for you, Logan. I want us to be together. I just need to know that you trust me and that you can confide in me. You know all of my ugly past. Everything with me and my uncle and my brother. I hated that you knew all of it, but you told me I could trust you not to judge me for it.”