by Erik Carter
“Don’t touch me, Dale! What? Can’t take a little competition.”
The sides of the vision began to blacken, closing in around Allie.
“Well, that’s just pathetic,” she said. “Are you hurt? Heartbroken, Dale?”
Allie looked down at him. She’d suddenly grown taller than him.
The darkness had closed around her, a tunnel of light focused right on her.
She grabbed a large piece of beach glass, smashed it against the table, creating a big, pointed shard.
She sneered.
“Right in the heart.”
She stabbed him in the chest.
Dale’s eyes snapped open. Panting. He saw the roof of the cave above him. He closed his eyes again. And took a deep breath.
“You all right?” Mira’s voice called from the other side of the cave.
“Yeah. Nightmare.”
“Aww…”
“It was a real memory at first, then it got … weird. I have a headache, too.”
The boardwalk had been real. And the beach glass bracelet. Everything else, no.
“Here,” Mira said. “Let me bring you some water.”
Dale stirred in bed. There was a jingling noise, and he felt something.
He looked up.
His hands, which had been behind his head, were shackled with metal bands. A length of three-eighths-inch chain connected them, and the chain ran through the eye bolt.
For just a moment, Dale wondered if he’d forgotten another love-making session with Mira. A kinkier one.
But that thought lasted only for a moment before his practical side quickly came up with the more appropriate explanation.
And then logic exploded on him.
Quick fragments of memories from the last few days.
The things he’d failed to notice.
The small “stranger” running away from Dale and Nash on the Promenade.
The framed photo of Clyde and Mira together. They were the same height.
The stranger stabbing Ern to death. His shriek. The flash of the knife stabbing his side.
Mira talking about Clyde, his small size: “He’s so small. No taller than me…”
Mira walked up to the mattress, stood over him.
Looming.
In her hand was a tin cup. She smiled.
“Water?”
“Oh my god …” Dale said. “It was you.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Ventress looked at the clock.
5 PM. On the dot.
Perfect.
“This has all been quite moving, Mr. Harbick. Touching, even. And though you made such an impassioned examination of my moral compass, I’m going to take anything you say with a grain of salt. Know why? You want to kill people. You’re a serial killer without the guts to take action. So I’m perfectly comfortable with my decision. Nothing you’ve said has convinced me of Dale Conley’s supposed nobility. Every moment they’re out there, Mira Lyndon’s life is more in danger. Enough talk. It’s time for action.”
She looked over the room.
“Take five, everyone. Go to the john. Get some water.” She pointed at Hensley. “You, powder your nose or whatever you need to do, sweetheart. Then meet back here to get this manhunt started. Sadler, we’ll organize how you’re going to track down Clyde Bowen. As for me and my team, we’ll be going on a different manhunt.”
She looked at her men.
“It’s time to kill Conley.”
Chapter Forty-Four
“You murdered those women,” Dale said. “You … chopped them up.”
Mira put the tin cup on the cave floor then sat on the mattress, folding her arms across her knees. She looked at Dale.
“You said you thought Allie had cheated on you. Thought she did. And it still affects you. Imagine knowing the man you loved has cheated on you. Over and over. With so many. And in such disgusting ways.”
“Cheating sucks, but people get cheated on every day. They don’t go out killing people! Are you goddamn insane??”
As soon as he said that, Dale realized it was the stupidest, most self-answering question he’d posed in a long time.
“You don’t hurt what you love,” she said. “The men in my life have spit on my love. My daddy first. And then Clyde, the little half-man. So, yes, you bet I slaughtered his whores.”
“And Ernie Plunkett…”
He remembered Ern’s face. The blood. His shriek.
“He was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“And you’ve been watching us the whole time.”
The stranger throwing the shard of glass at the Fordyce, looking through the bars of the fence at the Barton Ridge community…
“Things were getting more complicated,” she said. “I had to make sure no one was figuring things out. And nobody suspected a thing. I was just about to get away with it. Until you showed up.”
“You did all this because your boyfriend cheated on you.”
“Oh, it was a lot worse than that. It started with simple cheating, yes. But remember Clyde and his escalation? He cheated on me with one girl at first. And then several. Then he brought in Sadler. Then me. Can you believe that, Dale? The woman he’s supposed to love. When I told you before that they worked me over, the two of them—that much is true. But it wasn’t always just me. They’d bring in others. And they did weird shit to us. Really weird. They even found a private place to do it, somewhere no one would find them, somewhere no one would hear the screams.”
Dale’s mouth opened. His eyes flicked to the shackles on his wrists.
“Here. So everything you said about this cave and your childhood and a place to hide from Clyde—”
“Was complete bullshit, I’m afraid. I’m sorry to have lied to you, Dale.”
Dale thought about all the nastiness that must have happened on the mattress on which he was lying.
And all the dried bodily fluids that it surely contained.
Gross…
“This was their dungeon. Can’t you hear the screams?” she said, her eyes tracing over the walls, a strange half-smile on her lips. “Can’t you just feel how ugly and sick this place is? The number of times I was chained to that bed, Sadler doing things, Clyde by the wall with one of his sluts, watching Sadler screw me, watching him hurt me. He was supposed to love me. To cherish me. To protect me from other men. And he gave me away. Like garbage. He got off on it.”
Dale looked away. A thought occurred to him. “Wait … Clyde Bowen…”
Outside the Fordyce … The stranger looked up, waved, fluttered his fingers.
“Every encounter I’ve had was … with you… So Clyde …”
He trailed off.
Camila at the Alistaire: “He hasn’t been to work in three days.”
"Where’s Clyde, Mira?”
Mira smiled.
“If you weren’t chained up, I’d tell you to walk over to the mouth of the cave and look out into the trees in about sixteen different directions. You’d find a bit of him here, there, everywhere. Really shallow graves. Only an inch or so deep. It’s easy to bury a man when he’s in little handfuls.”
Dale looked about the cave, thinking.
“This whole time, the guy I’ve been tracking … Clyde Bowen … He was dead before I even got into town, wasn’t he?”
Mira nodded.
“Remember when you said you’ve been chasing a ghost?” Mira said with a laugh. “You didn’t know how right you were.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Nash sat in his chair at the conference table, and he realized that his fingers were digging into the armrests. He looked down and saw that his knuckles were white, fingers taught and shaky. He released them.
As he watched the people coming and going from the room—heading to and from the bathroom, drinking coffee, discussing quietly—he wondered what the hell he was going to do next. Because he wasn’t going to let Ventress kill Dale.
It occurred to him then—there was not
hing keeping him there. This wasn’t a real trial, and he wasn’t a member of any of these law enforcement departments. No one was going to stop him from walking out right now. And just as he had these thoughts, just as he was about to stand up…
Fulton came up and sat beside him.
Nash turned to him.
“Sorry, man. I’m supposed to watch over you. Ventress’ ‘orders.’” He reached out for a handshake. “Greg Fulton.”
“Nash Harbick.”
Nash looked around the room again. He saw Taft. Surely Taft had the clout to get Dale out of this situation. Couldn’t he call in for assistance?
Someone came in, gave Taft an envelope, and left. Nash watched as Taft opened it then looked about the room, his eyes landing on Nash.
Taft approached.
“Excuse me, Fulton,” he said. “I have a couple questions for the ‘prisoner.’”
Fulton waved his hand. “Be my guest. I didn’t want guard duty for a man who’s done not a damn thing wrong anyway.”
Taft motioned with his head. “Come on, Harbick. I gotta take a leak.”
He started toward the door.
Nash got up and followed.
He had known Walter Taft in the past—having met him a couple times during the first assignment with Dale up north—and while he was only a vague acquaintance, Nash knew Taft well enough to understand that something was happening…
What was Taft up to?
Chapter Forty-Six
“You dispatched Clyde first and then started killing off his women,” Dale said.
Mira smiled. “I killed him second, actually. In the middle of the night. After the first girl, Paula Willett. When Kathy at Sullivan’s gave you an alibi for Clyde that night, she wasn’t lying. Clyde really was at the bar when I was chopping up Paula.”
“I see. Which means the guys who beat the shit out of Nash and me in the alley were just looking out for a buddy, trying to put the fear into the fuzz.”
“Of course they were. Sullivan’s was where it was all organized. Clyde and Sadler would meet up with local girls there, or Clyde would bring tourists in from the spa across the street. Those other loser drunks would help them out, get them fresh girls. They revered Clyde and Sadler. But they were never allowed to play. Only Clyde and Bill could play. Those guys at the bar are just old, drunk losers. More pathetic men. There were people like Kathy who didn’t like what they saw. But they didn’t know how dark things were really getting outside the bar. And, besides, who were they going to run to? Sadler’s a cop. A high-ranking cop.”
“You killed three of the girls. You must have been planning on a lot more.”
“Oh, no. I knew I couldn’t keep it up forever, that the heat would get too much. There were so many women. Those three were the ringleaders. The top sluts. They even brought Clyde and Bill other women.”
“So kill Clyde, plant some books about serial killers in his house, and start eliminating his women, imitating the unidentified murderers listed in one of the books,” Dale said. “When the bodies start showing up and the cops investigate, they’ll eventually discover that the connection between the women is Clyde. The truth will come out about Clyde and Sadler. When Clyde’s fourth victim, you, survives, she’ll be in hysterics at first. But eventually she’ll tell the police that Clyde tried to murder her. She’ll tell them about the shit that Clyde and Bill did to women in a cave. The cops will go to the cave and find a mattress along with chains and other deranged stuff in there. Where were these hiding this whole time, by the way?” He shook his hands, rattling the shackles and chain. “I didn’t see them when we first came here.”
Mira pointed to a crack along the base of the cave on the opposite side—about four inches tall and three feet long.
“Gotcha,” Dale said. “After the cops investigate the cave and see that the victim isn’t lying, Sadler will, at a minimum, lose his job but most likely get implicated as an accomplice. And since Clyde had an alibi for the first murder—being seen at Sullivan’s—the chances are pretty good that Sadler will get convicted as one of the killers as well. Of course, Clyde will never be found. Because you’ve gotten your ultimate revenge on him. And eventually, once you’re healed up from your ‘attack,’ the victim will go home with the sympathy of the city.”
“Pretty good, huh?”
Dale’s mind flashed on Bill Sadler. “So when Sadler was lying about Clyde, he was just looking out for a buddy. Trying to steer the investigation away from Clyde.”
“And away from himself,” Mira said. “Even though he didn’t kill anyone, he was part of everything in this cave. If news like that came out, it would ruin a cop’s career. Don’t make him sound so admirable. He’s a piece of shit.”
Dale took in a deep breath and slowly released it. “You’ve had horrible things happen to you, evidently since you were a child. But nothing justifies what you’ve done. You have to get past terrible things.”
Mira’s face flared. “What the hell would you know? Your father didn’t do things to you. You weren’t there when Clyde and Bill did what they did to me. You think I should just forgive all of them?”
“No, I don’t. Some things are unforgivable. But no matter what terrible things happen to a person, they have to find a way to move on. For their own sake.”
She shook her head, annoyed. Looked away.
Dale’s eyes moved over Mira’s wounds, her bandages. “You attacked yourself.”
Mira nodded. She made a fist, gave a light tap to her shoulder.
“Pow!”
“But … you have stab wounds … how …”
Mira smiled. She stood up, walked over to the crack in the wall she’d pointed out moments earlier. She got on her hands and knees and reached inside, pulled out a knife. She held it up.
“A special knife. Made it myself! Broke the blade. It’s only about three quarters of an inch. Not too deep. All you gotta do is avoid the organs and the ribs.”
She made little stabbing motions all over her body. Laughed.
Then tossed the knife to ground.
Even after everything he’d just heard, that little display with her special knife was so grotesque, so calculating, so macabre that it sent a chill over Dale’s skin.
He was in a bad situation.
A very, very bad situation...
Chapter Forty-Seven
Taft had Nash by the arm—feigning their prisoner/guard relationship—and he pulled him around a corner into a hallway.
“I just got this note,” Taft said quietly. He handed Nash a sheet of paper, a handwritten message.
Nash began to read. He immediately recognized the writing as Dale’s.
Sir,
Investigation is corrupt. Detective Bill Sadler and Clyde Bowen run a sexual fetish operation out of Sullivan’s bar, taking women to a cave off hiking trail. Re: the murders, Sadler is trying to cover Bowen’s tracks and get the blame placed on someone else. He admitted this to me personally. I’ve taken Mira Lyndon into protection until I can get this cleared. Hiding at the cave. Trust no one. Sadler knows the truth.
Dale
P.S. Have you been working out, sir? Looking trim. Meow!!
“That’s what he wouldn’t tell me,” Nash said. “The son of a bitch was trying to protect me.”
“Look,” Taft said.
Taft nodded toward the opposite side of the hall, and when Nash looked, he saw Sadler opening the men’s bathroom door. He went inside.
Taft looked at Nash, and there was a coy, mischievous twinkle in his eye.
“Come on. It’s time to take a page from Conley’s book,” Taft said and headed toward the bathroom. “Let’s go rogue.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Dale looked from the modified knife—on the ground where Mira had tossed it—and back to Mira.
He gave her an uncomfortable smile. “One thing I don’t understand—and perhaps my motivations are a bit selfish here—is why you’ve chained this guy to the wall.”
“Don’t you see? This was never part of the plan. I wasn’t supposed to get kidnapped from the hospital by some special agent who strolled into town and figured out Bill’s involvement. I had to come up with a plan fast. And then we end up here, and you’re just so steadfast about the case, about catching Clyde. I know you would have never given up, not until you caught him. You’re tenacious. But of course you’d never be able to catch Clyde. So I had to do something. You needed to be restrained. Until I was sure you understand the destiny of all this.”
“You’re right. I don’t understand. Destiny?”
“It’s destiny that we’ve ended up here together. Here. In this cave.” She gestured grandly. “Who could have planned that you’d take me from the hospital? But here we are. Two people who have been through so much. All the things Clyde did to me. And the things Allie did to you. We’re the same.”
“Allie may not have always been the best, but she didn’t come close to doing what Clyde did to you.”
“No woman should ever hurt a man like you,” she said, her face deadly serious.
“Okay, let’s pretend you’re right and this is destiny. You have me tied up. Now what? What’s your plan?”
“I’ve fallen in love with you, Dale Conley. My plan is simple: to be with you.”
Dale looked at the chain.
“I see. Great courtship practices.”
“Now I need something from you.”
“I’m a captive audience at the moment, so I’m all ears.”
“I need Allie’s last name.”
Dale’s pulse suddenly quickened at the request. “Why?”
“So I can locate her. You said she lives in Alexandria, Virginia. I need the last name to find her address. I’m going to drive up there.” She smiled. “And I’m going to slice her throat.”
Chapter Forty-Nine