LOST BOY

by Ker Dukey

  Glancing over at me, his lashes flutter. “You are so fragile, numb, lonely, like me, drifting through life almost asleep.”

  Lies. I’m nothing like him. I will never be anything like him.

  “There’s something missing inside you.” He moves toward me again, coming too close and tilting my chin with his fingers. I try to tug free, but be pinches the skin, making me wince. “It shows in your soft, muted, dark eyes. They have a smoky flare waiting to be ignited in a fiery passion. I can be the spark you’ve been missing all this time,” he breathes, his gaze dropping to my lips.

  “Fuck you. I hate you,” I seethe, spitting in his face.

  The backhand to my cheek causes pain to explode up my face, knocking me off my feet to the floor, inches from the puddle of vomit. My tooth pierces my lip. Copper liquid fills my mouth, dribbling to my chin.

  “Dramatic much?” he snarls, rubbing the back of his arms over his face to wipe the saliva away.

  “You’re as crazy as he is.”

  Dropping to his haunches, he grabs my throat, making me squeal. Lifting me to my feet, he pins me to the back wall, my back smarting from the impact. “I’m not crazy,” he growls. Strong fingers grip hard, pushing against my windpipe. “I’m real fucking lucid.”

  Releasing me with as much strength as he used to pin me, I stumble. He runs his hands through his hair as I slide down the wall, massaging my throat to alleviate the ache, each inhale burning like lava. “What now? You’re going to kill me? What’s your end game?” My voice is raw, broken. “How did you know I was his daughter? I didn’t even know.”

  Tipping his face to the ceiling, he says, “I think you didn’t want to know is more accurate. It wasn’t hard to figure out. Once I started digging for information on him, it all came together pretty easily. Guess who was high school sweethearts?”

  My mother?

  “Your mama was from Hollywell, did you know that? Jack’s wasn’t.”

  Jack’s wasn’t? Why did I not know that? I didn’t look into any of it, I just believed what I was told.

  He moves to the bed, pulling out the box he stuffed under there when I first arrived. Taking the lid off, he empties the contents to the mattress. Images of me flutter to the duvet, followed by newspaper clippings like the ones I keep, files, books. My breathing stutters seeing his collection of my life splayed before me.

  He picks up what looks like a yearbook and flips through it, grinning when he finds the page he wants. Tapping his finger on the image, he shoves it at my face. “Your mother—before the name change of course.” He goes back to his collection, swiping up a piece of paper. “Quick internet search on marriage and divorce records—and boom, your mother again. God, this shit was too fucking easy. It’s kind of pathetic you didn’t figure it out for yourself.” He throws his hands up before letting them slap against his thighs on their descent.

  “I thought we were collateral damage, unlucky to be friends with Jack and his mother,” I breathe. It had been the other way around.

  “Your grandmother was killed the same day as your mother—did you ever wonder why, how?” His tone is mocking, humor layering each word. Bastard. I didn’t know I had a grandmother or that she was killed. How does he know this, and I don’t? You never asked. You never wanted to know. You didn’t want the truth. Why didn’t my aunt tell me?

  “It didn’t take much to find out, flash of fake credentials about an article I was writing had everyone singing. People won’t admit it, but they like that Willis made their crappy town famous.” He picks up a file and waves it in my face. “A lot of files are open to the public. It just took looking in the right places. By the look of her autopsy, your Grandmother was tortured. It’s no doubt how Willis got your address. It’s why your aunt lives like a frightened little mouse. She’s terrified he’ll come back here and cut her up next. You weren’t the collateral damage—they were.” There’s a smug arrogance about him I’ve never seen before. How can he be so different? Was it all an act?

  “She’ll be relieved then, when she learns he’s never coming back. He's dead. Jack killed him,” I remind him.

  Blanching, he shakes his head. “What did you say?”

  “Oh, you didn’t know? I thought you knew everything,” I sneer, swiping at the blood on my lips. I feel ill learning I had a grandmother Willis also claimed the life of. My poor aunt, raising me after everything that was taken from her because of me…

  Grabbing me by the neck of my shirt, he slams me into the wall once more. “Who killed him?”

  “Jack killed him,” I groan, my head spinning.

  “That’s why he hasn’t come for us,” he whispers, the news chinking a piece from his armor. “Because Jack fucking killed him?”

  “Willis didn’t even know we existed,” I mock, dropping my head, exhaustion depleting me of strength.

  “What do you think all of this was for?” he bellows. “To show him we do!”

  I’d rather die than ever let that man think of me as his child. Jack…poor Jack. Everything he thought to be true isn’t. It never was. His world has been altered forever by me.

  A cell ringing fills the room. “Fuck,” Stephan growls. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he sneers at the name flashing up. Charlotte.

  “You ruined my plans tonight,” he informs me, muting the call.

  I snigger, a deranged laugh. I’m descending into madness. “Did you have a date?”

  “With Charlotte actually,” he taunts.

  “Don’t fucking touch her,” I sneer, all humor fleeing.

  “Charlotte’s a whore. You’re better than her, Lizzy. Will be better without her.” He goes to his dresser and pulls out a drawer, looking inside. “As soon as she thought I was interested in you, she was all over me. She needs a man’s attention—daddy issues.” A hook tilts his lips as he winks over at me, completely disconnected from reality. “Am I right?”

  I drop my eyes. The color drains from my face as he pulls a blade out from the dresser. “Charlotte is complicated,” I defend.

  Jerking his head up and down, he points over to me with the knife. “It helped me. I kinda get these confused feelings around you.”

  He doesn’t have feelings. He’s cold. Dead inside. Just like Willis. “Thought it may help me feel close to you in some fucked up way. You know, the whole can’t fuck your sister, so get close to her best friend thing.”

  “You’re disgusting.” It’s crazy to antagonize a psycho with a knife, but his words make me feel ill.

  “Fair statement. It was a low point, I’ll admit.”

  Breathing heavy, I ask, “What do you want from me?”

  He bends, holstering the knife to a strap on his leg. “I want you to admit who you really are.”

  “And then what?” I demand, forcing myself to fight the dizziness, to remain present.

  “The world is our oyster.” He holds out his hands in a dramatic gesture. Did he really think I’d just be like him and want to go around the world murdering innocent people in Willis’s name?

  “The police are looking for you,” I remind him.

  Tutting and wagging his finger, he asks, “Are they? I think they don’t have a clue who is doing this. Maybe a tip about who your new neighbor really is will help clear that up for them.”

  My back straightens, anger boiling. “No,” I bark.

  “Why?” He leans forward, an amused glint in his eyes. “It’s perfect. He shows up after being kidnapped by a serial killer over a decade ago right when the killings began. It’s kismet.”

  I’d never let Jack go down for this. I’ve failed him so many times—never again. Desolation cloaks me in a mist of regret. How could I think he was capable of hurting those women?

  Ringing from his phone begins again. Irritation flares his nostrils. “Fucking Charlotte. She has to go, I’m afraid. I’ve been fantasizing about cutting into her pretty fucking face.”

  Leaping forward, I snatch his cell phone from him and dart for the door crashing thr
ough it almost toppling over the banister on the small landing, I click the answer icon. “It’s Stephan!” I scream into it racing down the first couple of steps before a boot lands against my spine, launching me forward, hurtling me down the entire flight of stairs. The phone flies from my hand as my body flops like a rag doll, hitting the steps and tumbling. My knee screams in pain. My head cracks against the hardwood floor when I reach the bottom. Everything warps. A loud buzzing deafens my ears. Stephan’s silhouette fades in and out of my vision as he descends the stairs at a leisurely pace.

  Tsking, he says, “This is really disappointing, Lizzy. I’ve tried so hard with you—enrolling in your class, taking those stupid assignments just to get the conversation started, to plant the seed, and now look where we are.” His words sound distant, distorted to my ears.

  A hard thud hits my stomach, knocking the air from my lungs. “What am I going to do with you?”

  Another hit, and the world fades as my body sags. I fight to keep my eyes from closing, but it’s too late.

  Thirty

  Pain emanates throughout my entire body. Lifting my head sends a wave of nausea through me. I jolt when I realize my arms won’t move. Anxiety hitches my breath, and my eyes spring wide open. Ropes bind my wrists to the arms of a desk chair, my legs tied at the ankles. “Stephan,” I cry out, “what are you doing?” Hot, salty tears scald the corners of my eyes. “Shhh, we have company,” Stephan whispers from behind me. A cold press of a knife against my cheek warns me it’s not a request.

  The silence is deafening. My ears strain to hear any noise or movement. Adrenaline and fear spike at a sound of clicking, then soft thuds. “Breaking and entering is a crime, right?” Stephan whispers across my cheek, sending a shudder down my neck. Squeaking of the front door opening floods me with a sense of relief and terror. Who is it? Can they even help, or will they end up another victim? Stephan’s blade moves down to my neck, skimming the skin.

  “Come out, come out wherever you are,” he taunts.

  My pulse accelerates when Jack’s figure steps into the light, his name on the tip of my tongue. “How nice of you to deliver yourself to me by breaking in to make me killing you so justified.”

  “Let Lizzy go,” Jack demands.

  The knife digs in, a sting blooming. “Now, now, neighbor, Lizzy and I are family—and there’s no bond stronger than that.”

  Confusion furrows Jack’s brow. “Did you never work it out, trace it back to the beginning?” Stephan asks, incredulous. “You were just a mix-up—an unfortunate mistake. Lizzy was Willis’s daughter. Only…her mother played games as all mothers do and he didn’t know the baby in his wife’s womb was actually a girl, not the boy he was promised.”

  “Jack, I’m so sorry,” I sob.

  “Calm down, Liz. We don’t want you jerking around too much and my knife slipping into your artery.”

  “Fucking move the knife away, asshole,” Jack grinds out, pulling out a gun and aiming it above my head to Stephan’s.

  He fists my hair, and I cry out from the sharp sting as the knife moves toward my mouth.

  “I’ll cut out her fucking tongue and feed it to you if you speak to me like you’re the one making the rules here, cunt.”

  “I thought you cared about her. You said she’s your family?”

  “I do care about her.” His tone softens, his fist loosening. “She can survive without her tongue.”

  “Just let her go. Take me instead,” Jack offers, holding up his hands, his eyes darting to the gun, showing him he’s not aiming anymore.

  “Oh, you won’t be leaving here. You’re a fucking fool for coming here alone. You’ll take the fall for the killings after I add one more to the list.”

  “No!” I cry out, knowing he means Charlotte. The clicking of a gun sounds from behind us. “Put down the knife.”

  Hernandez.

  My soul weeps at the sound of his voice.

  “I never said I was alone,” Jack informs him, relining his gun in our direction.

  Sensing the vibrations of rage radiating from Stephan, I close my eyes, waiting for him to slice my throat before Hernandez fires his weapon, it will be suicide but maybe he would prefer to take us both out then go to prison.

  “It’s over, Mr. Preston,” Hernandez tries to reason. Sirens blast in the distance, coming closer with every inhale of breath.

  “Brother, please,” I beg, feeling the moment my words hit him. His hand falls from my hair, the knife hitting my shoulder, and then a sharp bang pierces the air. A splatting sounds so close to me, my head drops to see if it was me Jack shot.

  Blue and red lights flicker over the ceiling, dancing up the walls. The thud of Stephan’s body crashing to the floor incites a wretched scream from my lips. All the pain hits me like a thousand bullets. Jack’s scent washes over me, the heat of his body encompassing mine. “Sorry,” I cry. “I’m so sorry.”

  With a shuddering breath, Jack says the only words that can set me free. “I forgive you. It wasn’t your fault. I forgive you, but it wasn’t your fault.”

  The room floods with officials. Hernandez called in the update before they were even out of their cars. Hernandez’s hand rests on my shoulder, squeezing for reassurance as Jack unties my bindings. Paramedics move toward us with medical kits, but they walk past me to Stephan.

  “He’s alive?” I choke out.

  “Step back,” another paramedic tells me, curling a blanket around my shoulders and flashing a flashlight in my eyes. “Do you have any pain?” Questions barrel into me, faces, lights…it’s all too much.

  Jack is whispering things to me, but I’m fixated on the paramedics working on Stephan like he’s just some regular joe—a victim, not a monster. An officer bags the knife he dropped into an evidence bag while another bags the rope used to bind me. “Come on, you don’t need to see this,” Jack informs me, moving a paramedic out of our way. “I’m taking her for air,” he informs an officer who tries to stop him. My legs move, but it’s like I’m not connected to my body. An observer from above.

  “She’s my best friend. Let me in,” Charlotte calls from the front door. Moving toward her voice, I suck at the air when we manage to make it outside to the small lawn.

  “Lizzy—oh, thank god! Jack was with me when you answered the call. We’ve been looking for you all night,” Charlotte sobs, pushing past a police officer and launching herself at me. I wince at her impact, but wrap my arms around her with the little strength I have left. “It’s over,” I murmur. “It’s over.” Tears build in my eyes as my own words begin to register.

  “I can’t believe it was Stephan,” she sobs. Sensing Jack’s presence at my back, I pull him into our hug, needing them both.

  “There’s a woman alive upstairs. And we found a container. You’re going to want to see this, sir,” an officer tells Detective Barnett, who I hadn’t noticed was even here until now. I search the scene with a trembling lip. Storm clouds move overhead, a war drum still pounding in my chest. A wisp of air escapes my lips when Stephan is wheeled out on a stretcher, his shirt gone, a white cloth patch on his chest with a crimson stain, one arm cuffed to the bed, an officer by his side. Blue eyes flutter open. “Lizzy?” he croaks, crushing me. How could I have not seen the evil inside him? Deep down, I know we’re different people. His mother would have influenced his mentality. Psychopaths aren’t just born; they’re made. And when he learned about me, I became his cold obsession. Stepping toward him, we watch each other with haunted eyes. Jack’s hand rests on my shoulder. The officer turns toward me with a shake of his head, a hand sitting on his weapon in the unclipped holster on his hip. “We should get you looked at, Liz,” Jack murmurs. I nod, dropping my gaze to my feet, taking in a deep breath.

  “Oh my god, Lizzy,” Charlotte screams, her hands reaching out for me. Officers move in slow motion around me. A piercing bang shatters the air. Jack shoves me to the grass as shouts and screams pierce the sky. I hit the ground, my eyes wide, taking in Stephan’s raised a
rm, the officer’s lifeless body on the ground, his own weapon used against him and now clutched tight in Stephan’s fist, pointed at me. He’s on his feet so fast, the stretcher overturns, his other arm still cuffed to it. I scurry away as guns are drawn and shouts of “Drop it!” ring out. Jack, strong, powerful, and fearless, kicks out his foot, colliding with Stephan’s stomach. Hitching forward at the waist, Jack smacks the arm with the gun aside and grips Stephan around the neck. Everything happens so fast, no one can keep up or stop him as he twists, snapping Stephan’s neck, the crack audible from the short distance between us.

  Jack’s tackled out of the way, and officers surround the limp body of the brother I didn’t know I had—the killer I had once called a friend. Now, it’s over.

  Epilogue

  Four months later

  Packing up my bag, I walk over to Professor Ashraf’s desk and drop my paper in front of him. His eyes flick up, looking over his glasses at me, before picking it up and running his gaze over it. “The Evolution of a Serial Killer: Nature versus Nurture,” he reads the title out loud.

  “Sorry it’s late. I appreciate all the extensions you’ve allowed me.”

  Taking off his glasses, he tilts his chin. “I’m just happy to have you back, Ms. West. I look forward to reading your findings.”

  A smile tilts my lips as I nod and slide my backpack up my shoulder. The halls are buzzing, the stares and whispers finally subsiding. Pushing the door open and stepping outside, my heart pulses—the pull of the moon calling to the sea. The enigmatic force that is my lost boy summons my eyes to a lamppost where he’s standing, arms crossed, hair mussed, those penetrating green orbs rendering me almost catatonic. Such a beautiful specimen, he gains longing stares from both girls and boys on campus. But he’s all mine. Detective Hernandez worked tirelessly to get any charges recorded as self-defense after Jack ended Stephan’s reign. The witnesses were all police force and paramedics, so he had that on his side. The Willis death was never brought up. It’s been too long, and frankly, I don’t think they cared how he died, just grateful he had. The child’s remains turned out to be a victim of Willis’s, a thirteen-year-old girl with a small stature. Her family now has closure despite it being the worst possible outcome imaginable. I’ve been seeing a counselor to help with the guilt and trauma, and it’s helping, much to my aunt’s delight. Jack’s seeing one too. He’d never really dealt with everything either. Finding out Willis wasn’t even his father didn’t change things for him. I asked if he ever looked into his own background to try and find relatives, but he said he didn’t remember anything before Willis, and fear of what he could uncover if he did go searching was too strong. He’d wanted to leave Willis in the past—in the shallow grave he put him in.