The Beautiful and the Damned

by Jessica Verday

  Marv nodded, a queasy look coming over his face.

  Classic. Doesn’t know what to do when a girl’s going to cry.

  Cyn’s fake tears turned to a smile. “Thanks. I’ll wait right here.”

  Wiping his hands on his apron, Marv dinged the bell sitting on the pass-through counter and sat the plate of onion rings on it. “Need ya back here, Lenny,” he called out.

  A minute later, Lenny came and took Marv’s place at the fryer, shifting back and forth between it and the griddle as Marv went to get the payroll binder.

  “Your mom’s sick, huh?” Lenny said, dumping a bag of french fries into the grease.

  Cyn crossed the room and opened the industrial-size refrigerator. Last time she checked, there were a couple of Yoo-Hoo bottles in the back. “You heard what I said to Marv?”

  “Kind of hard not to. Not exactly private back here, ya know?”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “So, how long are you going to—”

  But Lenny didn’t finish his question.

  “Going to what?” Her back was to him, and she dug deeper in the fridge, moving a carton of eggs to clear a path to the Yoo-Hoo. “Going to be missing you? You know I’ll miss you the whole time I’m gone, Lenny.” Her fingers finally touched cold glass, and she pulled one of the bottles out. “No, seriously. Going to what?”

  When Cyn turned back around again, she saw the reason Lenny didn’t answer. Because Declan was there, holding a gun to the side of his head.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  As soon as Cyn left, Avian went into the house and poured himself a glass of bourbon. He carried it to the living room and sat in front of the fireplace.

  Father Montgomery’s rosary was warm against his skin. Already a faint outline etched into his wrist from where the cross pressed against his flesh. But he wasn’t going to take it off. It was the only way to keep some part of Father Montgomery alive.

  A nagging feeling tugged at Avian, and he took a sip. Hoping to chase the feeling away with the sting of alcohol. But something wasn’t right, and he couldn’t figure out what it was.

  Is it Cyn? Is she okay?

  She said she just had to go pick up her paycheck at the diner on Twenty-fifth. He knew where that one was—it was the one he’d followed the cop into.

  The same cop who had a rental car and was staying in a motel. Who had a memory of Cyn taking up space inside his head.

  He gripped the glass so tightly it shattered in his hand.

  Avian shot to his feet and ignored the blood dripping from his fingers. Reaching for the cell phone inside his pocket, he dialed Mint’s number as he slammed the front door shut behind him and strode across the yard to the shed.

  “Yeeeeellow?” Mint’s normal greeting grated on his nerves, and Avian resisted the urge to curse at him.

  “Mint, it’s me.”

  “Thirteen! We haven’t talked since—”

  “Yeah, I know.” Avian cut him off. “Listen, I need you to look up a license plate for me.”

  Mint’s tone immediately turned professional. “What do you have?”

  “Rental. Out of state.”

  Avian rattled off the plate from memory, and sixty seconds later Mint had a hit from the database he’d hacked into.

  “The car’s registered to a Declan Thomas. He has a New York address. Paid cash, so no credit card to track. But we’re not done with Mr. Thomas yet.”

  Mint was punching something else into the computer. Avian could hear him clicking.

  “Wait a minute. Wait just a minute.” Mint suddenly let out a low whistle, and Avian switched the phone to his other hand as he started up his bike.

  “What?”

  “It’s not good.”

  “Just tell me, Mint. I don’t have time to fuck around.”

  “Well, to start with, Declan Thomas used to be a cop.”

  “Used to be?” Avian pulled out of the shed and headed toward the diner.

  “Yeah. He was with the NYPD in Manhattan for two years. But he lost his badge a couple months ago. Right around the time his little brother was murdered.”

  A sick feeling hit Avian in his gut. He knew what Mint was going to say next.

  “The brother’s name was Hunter.  Thomas was apparently under investigation for a couple of brutality incidents before all that, but his brother’s death seemed to be the thing that set him off. He was committed to a voluntary ninety-day program at a psychiatric hospital for evaluation. But he checked himself out after a week.”

  Hunter was the name of the dead boyfriend Cyn mentioned, and Declan was his brother. A crazy ex-cop obsessed with finding his kid brother’s killer, and a sudden interest in Cyn.

  He’d bet his right arm that that wasn’t a coincidence.

  “You know this guy?” Mint asked.

  “Yeah. And that’s not even the complicated part.” Avian hit the highway and accelerated. He was still ten minutes away from the diner. Too far.

  “I know you don’t need me to tell you this, but be careful, man.”

  “Noted.”

  Avian’s voice was hard.

  Mint got the message loud and clear. “Anything more you need from me?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Good luck with him, then. And call me sometime when you don’t have a crazy cop on your hands, okay? Better yet, come down and see me before—”

  But Avian didn’t hear what Mint said. He’d already hung up the phone.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  The Yoo-Hoo bottle Cyn was holding hit the floor, and glass flew everywhere. She flinched at the sound. Lenny’s eyes were wide with fear.

  “If this is about Hunter,” she said, “then let’s talk. Just you and me. Leave Lenny out of it.”

  “Oh, yeah, we’re going to talk about Hunter.” Declan pressed the barrel of the gun tightly against Lenny’s temple. “But not here.”

  “Do you think you’ll be back for the—” Marv was looking down at the payroll binder as he came out of his office but stopped short when he saw what was going on. “Holy shit, man. What are you doing? I thought you were a cop? Put the gun down.”

  While Declan was distracted by Marv, Cyn realized that she was standing beside the box of mangled spoons the disposal had chewed up and spit back out again. Several of them were so twisted, they resembled ice picks more than silverware. She nudged the edge of the chair beside her so that it tipped over. Declan shot her a glare. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “I get clumsy when I’m nervous.”

  Bending over to pick up the chair, Cyn grabbed one of the spoon remnants and shoved it in her pocket. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something.

  Declan glanced back over at Marv. “I needed to have a little chat with one of your waitresses here and had to do something to get her attention. She didn’t make my burger right.”

  “There’s no need for any of this,” Marv replied. “We can get you a new burger right now, on the house. What do you want on it? Lettuce? Onions? Tomat—”

  “It’s not about a burger, Marv,” Cyn said.

  The stench of burning french fries permeated the air, adding to the tension in the room.

  “She’s right about that.” Declan pulled the gun back slightly. “I appreciate the offer, though. I’ll have to take you up on it next time. Now I think me and Cyn here need to find someplace a little more private to talk.”

  “She’s not going anywhere with you,” Marv rebutted.

  But Cyn was already nodding her agreement. Whatever it takes to get you to put the gun down. “Yeah, sure.”

  Marv turned to face her. “Cynsation, you don’t have to do this.”

  “We’re just going to talk. Right?” she asked Declan.

  “Of course,” Declan promised, but the smile on his face told a different story.

  All I have to do is get the gun as far away from Marv and Lenny as possible. I don’t care what he does to me. I just can’t let anyone else get hurt. “Okay. Let’s go.”

&nb
sp; Declan gestured for Cyn to come to him and grabbed a fistful of Lenny’s shirt to move him out of her way. Lenny had just put up both hands, to show that he was going to comply, when Margaret burst through the swinging door, yelling that she needed her fries for table twelve, and caught sight of Declan.

  “Oh my God!” she screamed. “He’s got a gun!”

  She immediately fell to her knees and covered her head with her hands, begging to be able to see her children again.

  “Am I pointing this gun at you, sweetheart?” Declan said. “No. So calm the fuck down.” He aimed it in Cyn’s direction again. “You get over here. Nobody else move.”

  When Cyn didn’t move fast enough, Declan cocked the hammer. “Let’s get this shit rolling. I don’t have all day.”

  Everything happened in a split second after that. Cyn started toward Declan, and he gave Lenny a hard shove in the direction of the fryer. Lenny lost his balance and skidded on the linoleum floor, landing face first in the boiling grease.

  Screams of pain filled the air, mingling with the scent of burning flesh and scorched potatoes, and Marv went running to Lenny, trying to haul him out by the waistband of his pants. Lenny kept screaming and thrashing, so Marv couldn’t get a firm grip. Finally, he yanked on Lenny’s shirt so hard, it ripped.

  They both collapsed in a heap on the floor.

  “You’re gonna be fine,” Marv kept saying, trying to comfort him. “It’s not that bad. You’re gonna be fine.”

  Margaret was wailing in the corner, and Declan shook his head in disgust at the scene in front of him. He pushed Cyn toward the back door with the muzzle of his gun. “Outside.”

  Her feet started to move on their own, and she willed Marv to look up. To let her know that Lenny really was going to be fine. That everything really was going to be okay.

  But Marv was too busy trying to hold the peeling skin of his employee’s face together.

  Declan followed Cyn to the door and shoved the gun into her ribs. Propelling her toward a side street, he walked closely beside her to hide his lethal motivation from any witnesses. They came to a white car, and he made her get in the driver’s seat while he kept the gun trained on her.

  He instructed her to start the car and drive. Cyn just concentrated on keeping her eyes on the road. They passed a junkyard, and he told her to stop. “Go back. Pull in there.”

  Cyn pulled up to the padlocked gates marked PETE’S SALVAGE YARD. It was after hours, and they were clearly closed.

  “Get out,” Declan said.

  Cyn followed his instructions, discreetly looking around to see if there was any way to escape. She almost jumped out of her skin when he suddenly shot the lock off the gate. “Jesus Christ! Give me some warning next time. You scared the shit out of me.”

  Declan laughed and roughly grabbed her arm. Dragging her behind him, he nudged one of the heavy gates open just far enough so they could squeeze through.

  Walking into the junkyard immediately made Cyn claustrophobic. It was a graveyard for cars. Half-buried in the ground like forgotten tombstones, rusty vehicles loomed in shadows all around her. Busted glass and bits of metal crunched beneath her feet.

  “It’s quiet,” Declan said, glancing around. “I like that.” He wandered over to the raised trunk of an old car and pushed it down. The sound of heavy metal clunking shut echoed ominously around them. “Unless the smell got to be too bad, no one would find a body left here for a long, long time.”

  Cyn tried to tamp down the sense of panic springing up inside her. He’s going to kill me and leave me here.

  “You should have just followed through with your plan at the gas station. That would have made everything easier.” Declan walked back around to the front of the car and opened the driver’s side door.

  “What plan at the gas station?”

  He reached under the dashboard. A second later, the latch on the trunk made a popping noise. “To shoot yourself.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  He stood back up and said, “Trunk. Now.”

  Cyn hesitated. She wasn’t going to sign her own death warrant that easily. But Declan shoved the gun up against her forehead.

  “Do you really want this to get messy?” he said in a calm voice. “Don’t make me ask again.”

  Cyn slowly moved toward the car. “What . . .” Her voice cracked, and she had to try again. “What did you mean, my plan to shoot myself?”

  “I saw you at the gas station.” Declan gestured to the trunk. “Go on.” He waited until she climbed in before he spoke again. “You had a gun to your head but didn’t pull the trigger. Couldn’t go through with it, huh?”

  Cyn shifted to her side and pulled her knees up. I put the gun to my head? Why didn’t Thirteen tell me that?

  Something sharp poked her shoulder, and she put one hand behind her to move whatever it was. Cold metal registered against her fingertips, and she realized it was a tire iron. A blunt, heavy tire iron.

  She had to move fast. She’d dug her own grave now—but she had no intention of lying in it.

  “You’re right,” Cyn said, her fingers wrapping around the tire iron. She tensed up. “I guess I couldn’t go through with it.” She purposefully lowered her voice. “So you can fuck off.”

  “What’s that?” Declan bent down so he could hear what she said.

  “I said, fuck off, asshole.” Cyn sat up and swung the tire iron. It was so heavy, her shoulder muscles screamed at the motion, but she held on and took aim at Declan’s mouth. The tire iron connected, and a spray of blood and teeth erupted from his face.

  Declan stumbled backward and landed flat on his back. The gun flew from his hand. He made a wet, gurgling noise as he lay on the ground, and Cyn listened to him for just a second before her brain suddenly kicked into gear. Go! Go! Go!

  Cyn climbed out of the trunk as fast as she could. She wasted precious time scanning the ground for the gun, but the landscape was too overrun with littered car parts for her to find it.

  Forget it, just go!

  Cyn turned back around to head for the gates, but something suddenly blocked her path.

  She saw red eyes first, and then the rest of him. Lips pulled back to reveal wicked-looking teeth, massive paws, and broad shoulders. It was a guard dog. The biggest, meanest, nastiest-looking guard dog she’d ever seen. And it was staring right at her.

  Declan made a noise somewhere between a yell and a groan, and she knew it wouldn’t be long until he got up again. She was running out of time.

  Cyn stared down the dog. Just let me go. Eat him. He’ll make a tasty snack.

  As if on cue, the dog’s spine stiffened, and the hair on its back rose up.

  She almost thought she saw smoke coming off of it.

  With a growl that rumbled deep from its belly, the dog sprang into action and covered the distance between her and Declan with a single leap. Declan’s groans turned to screams, and Cyn couldn’t stop herself from shuddering at the sound of bones crunching and flesh ripping. Taking advantage of the opportunity, she ran as fast as she could for the gate.

  She never even realized that Declan had found his gun again and she should have been looking behind her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Cyn made it to the gates and squeezed her way through before stopping to catch her breath. I have to get to Thirteen. He’ll know what to do about Declan.

  The car was less than ten feet away. Cyn stood up and slowly walked over to it. Keys! Where did I put the goddamn keys? Then she realized that they were still in the ignition. Declan didn’t take them when he made her get out.

  A hysterical laugh threatened to spill out of her, but Cyn clamped her mouth shut and mutely shook her head as she slid behind the wheel. “This is what happens when you don’t follow through with your plan, Declan,” she said out loud. “It makes everything easier.”

  She put the car in reverse and was just about to back up when an odd clanking sound came from the rear passenger-side door.
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br />   “Shit.”

  Cyn slammed on her brakes and mulled over what she should do.

  The sound came again.

  “What the fuck is that?” Cyn already had her door halfway open, determined to see what she’d hit, when the back door suddenly opened.

  Declan’s eyes met hers in the rearview, and she saw him propping a bloody left arm up against the backseat as he dragged himself the rest of the way into the car. With his right hand, he lifted the gun to the back of her head.

  “Drive,” he mumbled.

  His top lip was split into two pieces—part of it hanging down the side of his cheek like a hunk of dead meat—and his upper and lower front teeth were gone. A nasty black and blue bruise circled his nose. The veins in his face were discolored, pulsing like throbbing black caterpillars. He turned his head and spit out a mouthful of red-tinted foam.

  There was no time for panic. Cyn’s brain had gone past that now and was operating only on sheer logic. “Where?”

  “The falls. Just go straight, it’s not far.”

  Cyn put the car in gear and pulled away from the salvage yard. She knew now there was no escaping him. Declan was going to kill her. It was just a matter of how long it would take, and how painful it would be.

  When the wooded area that led to the falls came into view, Cyn turned onto the road that would take them to their final destination. The road gave way to a path, and at the end of the path was the bluff. The sound of rushing water was loud enough to drown out the car’s engine.

  Declan used the gun again to prompt Cyn to get out and prodded her closer to the water’s edge. He stumbled behind her and almost fell but managed to catch himself at the last second.

  Cyn glanced around. “How did you know about this place?”

  “Followed you from the gas station.”

  He saw me with Thirteen. “Then you should probably know that I don’t put out on the first date. Just FYI.” She crossed her arms but realized what else it meant that he’d followed them that night. “Did you overhear our conversation?”