by Susan Lund
"You did a good job," Tess said, even though it pained her. "No one suspected you at all. No one."
"I know," he said, and smiled. "Not even you. You went to the store with me. You went to the shooting range with me. If you had known what danger you were in…"
"I didn't have any idea," she admitted. "I thought you were nice."
He bent down and grabbed her chin. "I'm not nice."
She said nothing and he watched her for a moment.
"Don't think I don't know what you're trying to do," he said, his voice low. "You're trying to humanize yourself in my mind, so I won't kill you. It won't work, Tess. I like to humanize my victims. It makes the kill so much more rewarding. I like to kill humans. No guilt. None at all."
"I want to understand," she said. "I've always wanted to understand why."
"Understand this," he said, his tone harsh. "I kill who I want, when I want, how I want. None of you can do anything about it. You trying to talk to me nicely doesn't change that."
"How many have you killed? All of them?"
"What do you mean, all of them?"
"I have almost thirty on my list of possible victims."
"Close enough." He stood and grabbed the plastic bag filled with the bloody and soiled towels. "Now, I have to go out and burn this, get rid of the evidence. Then I have to go home early because of you."
She searched her mind, trying to think of something else to ask so she could delay him.
"Which one was your first? Lisa?"
"Depends on what you mean, my first. My first what?"
"Your first victim."
"Victim? That's not nearly enough to go on. Victim of what?"
He smiled at Tess, and it was such an evil smile that she shivered at the expression on his face. Pure gloating.
"Tell me if you killed Lisa."
"You want all the juicy details, or just cut straight to the point?"
"Tell me!"
He stared at her for a moment, like he was trying to decide whether to tell her.
"No, I didn't kill Lisa,” he said finally, “although I wanted to."
Tess closed her eyes, feeling a surge of emotion. Tears welled up in her eyes and fell down her cheeks.
Lisa wasn't dead?
"What happened? You took her, right?"
"I tried," he said and stood over. "I took her to the room. The room they found at John Hammond's place. I took several girls there over the years. I was going to kill her, but I was interrupted."
"Who? John Hammond?"
Eugene turned away. "That's enough," he said and picked up the ball gag again. "Don't try and delay me."
"Please, no. Tell me what happened to her! Is she still alive?"
He shrugged. "I have no idea. You should have asked my father. He's the one who took her to Seattle. Sold her on the fresh-meat market. She's probably still out there, somewhere in the US, although by now, she'd be too old and probably nothing more than a crack whore. More likely fentanyl."
"You didn't kill her!" Tess was almost ecstatic, despite the fact she was in such danger herself.
"No, I didn't kill her, but I would have," Eugene said, almost like he was upset that he hadn't. "I killed the next girl I took. Maryann from Yakima. She's probably on your list. Now, quit delaying me."
"No, no, please don't," she pleaded. "I feel like I'm going to choke to death."
"You won't," he said and stepped closer. "Unless I want you to."
"Tell me why you do it," she said, throwing anything out there to stop him from putting the gag back on. "Why do you kill young girls? What happened to make you this way? Did you feel rejected by your mother?"
"Shut up," he said and grabbed her head, moving the ball towards her face. "I never had a mother. And since you don't know enough to shut your mouth, I'll have to shut it for you."
He shoved the ball gag back into her mouth, tying the rope behind her head, and there was nothing besides twisting her body away that she could do about it.
Then he kissed her roughly, his mouth on hers over the ball gag and rope. He bit her as he did, and she felt pain as his teeth punctured her skin. She pulled back but it did no good. He had ultimate control.
"I always wanted you, Tess," he said, his voice low, licking his lips. "Now you're mine. Too bad you're too old for my tastes, but you'll still be useful."
He had made a big mistake, she thought. He would have left saliva on her, and that could be used to prove it was him who had abducted her. She knew he was planning to kill her and Elena and would probably burn their bodies to get rid of evidence, but until that happened, she wouldn't wipe him off any part of her body. She'd view her body as evidence that might convict him one day, even if she didn't survive.
As much as it disgusted her, she'd preserve any trace of physical evidence he left on her, just in case.
"And now, dear girls of mine, I have to leave you," Eugene said, his voice sounding pleased. "But I'll be back as soon as the coast is clear."
As Tess watched, he went over to Elena and grabbed her chin, staring down at her.
"You be good—and no more pissing or shitting yourself, or I'll punish you even worse the next time." He turned to Tess. "That goes for you, too. I'll be back later. Don't shit yourself or it'll be worse than you can even imagine."
He climbed up the ladder and threw the carpet back over the opening in the floor.
Over on the bed, Elena lifted her head and their eyes met.
Tess nodded, trying to console the young girl, despite the fact she could say nothing over the ball gag.
She tried all her restraints again, one at a time, trying for some weakness that she could use to get free. She'd once seen a video of a police officer showing women how to get out of zip ties, and knew that if she could exert enough force, the ties would break. She might suffer superficial cuts to her wrists, but while they would hurt, they wouldn't be fatal.
She'd survive the small amount of blood and the pain from those wounds.
She wouldn't survive if she was still there when Eugene got back later—whenever he was going to return.
Chapter Thirty
Michael spoke to the police officer when they arrived, telling him about the vehicle and the GPS fob. He sent the taxi driver off with a big tip, deciding to catch a ride back to Paradise Hill with the officer.
"Someone hid the vehicle here and left the fob in the car so we wouldn't know where she was," Michael said.
The cop, whose name was Keith, stood with his hands on his hips and nodded. "Looks like it." He glanced around at the location. "Place is empty?"
"As far as I can tell. I didn't go in," Michael said. "I looked inside through a window, but it looks empty."
"I’ll call it in. Get some back-up. Do you want to stay here or go back into town?”
“Take me back home.” Michael glanced around. "She's not here. I have no idea where she is, but someone took her. There's no way she'd leave her vehicle up here."
"She wouldn't have come up here with a friend, and left it here for some reason?”
Michael exhaled in frustration. "First, it's a rental. Second, there are only about four or five people she knows in Paradise Hill."
"If it was a rental, I doubt she'd leave it here," Keith said. "We can do a missing person report when we go back to the station. Put a BOLO out. You got any pictures?"
"I have a couple, plus there's a picture of her from the newspaper she works for. We could use that."
"Let's go," Keith said.
They drove back to Paradise Hill. Michael kept his eyes peeled for anything suspicious, but there was no way of knowing where she might be. By now—almost twelve-thirty—she could be out of state.
One thing he knew: She was with Eugene.
He didn't know how he knew it, but he did.
When he finished giving the police report, he was going to watch his ex-brother-in-law. Most victims of abduction by a serial killer were dead in the first few hours. He only hoped that Tess wa
s still alive, and that he could find her. If Eugene had Tess, he'd go to where she was eventually.
Unless she was already dead.
Chief Hammond looked tired when Michael got to the station. He had insisted on meeting Michael there, despite being off work for the night. Nash came to the station as well, and the three of them sat together in Chief Hammond's office and talked about Tess.
"It must have been the same man who attacked her, and probably me," Michael said. He didn't want to suggest it was Eugene—not until he had more proof.
Besides, he had to admit he had nothing substantial to go on aside from a gut feeling and two dates when Eugene had been out of town on days girls had gone missing. After they’d taken the report and filed the BOLO, Keith dropped him off at home. Despite the fact his shoulder was still not really workable, he didn’t go inside and speak with his mother. He got into his Jeep and started it up, driving off as quietly as he could, using his left hand to do most of the steering. The only difficulty was the turn signal, but he could move his hand enough to flip it up or down when needed.
He decided to drive by Eugene's place and see if he was home. He had a pair of binoculars in his glove compartment used for surveillance. They'd come in handy.
When Michael arrived on the street where Eugene lived in an apartment on the second floor, he parked his Jeep on the side street so he could watch both the front and back doors of the apartment building. He turned off the running lights and raised the binoculars with his good hand, watching for signs of any movement in the apartment. He knew which apartment it was and had seen Eugene's vehicle out back in the small parking lot. There was a light flickering in the window of Eugene's apartment, which suggested he was home watching television.
Michael sat on the street for hours, unwilling to leave, certain that if Eugene was there, he'd eventually leave and go to where Tess was. The light in the living room window finally went out, and Michael figured Eugene had gone to bed. He realized he might as well return home, but it was nearly four in the morning. Who knew how early Eugene might get up and go to her?
Then, around four thirty, he saw movement at the back door. A dark figure left, pushing a mountain bike. While Michael watched, the man got on the bike and rode off, a hood pulled over his head.
It had to be Eugene.
Michael knew that Eugene often rode his bike at night, but this late? He had to work in the morning…
Michael waited until the bike was several blocks away, then started the Jeep, following far enough behind the cyclist that he escaped detection. When the bike left the city limits and took a road up to Roslyn, Michael knew he was on the right track.
Then the cyclist turned around and began riding back.
Damn.
Michael kept going, hoping that the cyclist—and it had to be Eugene—hadn't seen him. Had he been planning to go to a cabin somewhere in the mountains where he had Tess.
Michael could have gone and grabbed him, forced him to tell him where they were, but he had the sense that Eugene would rather let Tess die alone in some remote location than admit he had taken her.
Michael wouldn't let that happen.
Instead, he knew he had to be as stealthy as Eugene.
About a mile farther along the road, he stopped and parked his vehicle down a lane leading up into the forest. If Eugene thought he was being followed, he might have turned around to check. Michael decided to stay where he was and see if the cyclist returned. He'd give it ten minutes. If the cyclist didn't return, he'd go back to town and use a different vehicle to set up surveillance.
One way or another, he would find out where Eugene had taken Tess.
After ten minutes passed, with no cyclist in sight, Michael reluctantly drove back to town, hoping as he drove that Eugene wasn't doing the same thing—hiding out of sight to check if the Jeep returned. It was a game of cat and mouse between them.
Perhaps Eugene was truly out for a ride and had returned when he’d reached his target distance—but Michael didn't believe it for a moment.
He arrived back at his mother's house and went inside. He couldn't sleep, so he went to the kitchen and wanted to make a cup of coffee but saw that the container was empty. He grabbed a bottle of iced tea in the refrigerator and sat at the dining room table, planning to stay there until he figured out who he could trust with his suspicions.
His mother came down the hall from her bedroom, dressed in her robe and slippers, her hair up in foam curlers.
"You're still up?"
"Mom, go back to bed. It's almost five in the morning."
"I was worried about you. When I heard you come in, I wanted to see if you've heard anything from Tess."
"No, sorry."
"Nothing?" she asked, sitting on a stool, her brow creased. "Why would she go out so long without letting us know?"
He sat beside her, deciding to tell her what he'd learned.
"I went to the location indicated by her GPS tracker," he said softly. "Her car was there, but she wasn't."
"What?" His mother covered her mouth. "Someone took her. It was the man who attacked her—and you, right?"
Michael nodded. "I'm afraid so."
"Oh, God," she said and covered her eyes. "Someone took her before she left to get you."
"Someone must have been following her, Mom."
"Who would want to hurt her? Who would want to hurt you? Is it an old enemy from high school?"
"I don't know," Michael said; although he was sure it was Eugene, he knew he could never admit it to her. "Someone who must have harbored a grudge. Maybe someone I hit too many times when we played football. I don't know."
His mother wrung her hands. "What are you going to do? What will the police do?"
"They've put out a 'be on the look-out' alert for her. If anyone sees her, they'll pick her up or notify us. Police will put out a missing person report tomorrow. That's all we can do."
He glanced at his watch. It was now after five. "Go back to bed, Mom. There's nothing you can do. You'll be tired all day if you stay up."
"I could say the same about you," she replied. "You need your sleep if you're going to help find Tess."
He nodded and closed his laptop. "I will. You go ahead. I'll lock up and turn off the lights."
But of course, he couldn't sleep. Instead he decided to take his mother's car and park outside Eugene's place and watch it. Eugene had to work in the morning and wouldn't be able to go to where Tess was until after work.
He wanted to track Eugene's vehicle, so he decided to slip his own GPS tracker onto the body of Eugene’s truck. Luckily, Michael had a small magnetic container for keys which he would be able to affix to the truck's metal frame. With that, he'd be able to track the vehicle anywhere it went. That might help—if Eugene used his truck to travel.
He slipped on his jacket and boots and left the house.
He parked a few blocks away from Eugene’s building and walked the rest of the way to the parking lot. At that time of night, there was little vehicular traffic but still, he kept to the back alleys and lanes to avoid being seen by anyone. He arrived at the building, approaching it from the back alley, and went directly to Eugene's late-model GMC truck. He casually bent down beside the vehicle, careful to stay out of sight of anyone in the building and attached the GPS inside the frame near a rear tire.
Then he walked back to his mother's vehicle and drove to a spot closer to the building, in sight of the entrance and exit.
He turned off the engine, took out the binoculars, and prepared for a long wait until Eugene got up and drove off to work.
At six thirty in the morning, Eugene walked out of the apartment building and got in the truck. Michael sat up straight and started the engine, prepared to follow him. He went to the GPS tracker app on his cell and was able to watch as Eugene drove to work. Michael stayed four or five blocks behind. When Eugene arrived at Hammond Cartage, he parked his truck in the staff parking lot, got out, then walked into the depot where the
delivery vehicles were kept. Michael parked on a side road within sight of the building and waited, wondering where he'd be going for his deliveries.
He yawned and waited, wishing he'd been able to get a coffee and something to eat to get his blood sugar up. He'd try to stop at a gas station during his travels, if possible.
It was going to be a long day.
While Eugene was unloading a delivery at a small grocery store, Michael slipped into the nearby Chevron and used the washroom, then picked up some coffee and a couple of sandwiches from the food counter. It wasn't much, but it would have to do.
He made it out to his mother's car just as Eugene arrived back at his delivery van, getting ready to drive to his next site.
His mother called him several times during the day, asking where he was.
"I'm working the case, Mom," he said. "I'll be gone all day."
"Okay. Take care of yourself. Let me know if you hear anything from Tess."
"I will," he said. "I'm doing whatever I can to help the police find her."
He checked in with Nash while waiting for Eugene to make a delivery to an auto parts dealer.
"We have nothing except a sighting of Tess at the Safeway not far from your place. She was there just after seven and drove off towards the edge of town according to the station's security cameras. That was the last anyone saw of her."
Hours later, after tagging along behind the delivery van for most of the day, successfully avoiding detection, he followed Eugene back to the depot. Michael yawned and stretched. While Michael watched, Eugene went back to his delivery van and drove off. He must have had a late delivery.
Michael exhaled, drawing on his last reserves of energy. Eugene left town and drove to the main highway, on the route to Easton. Michael followed, making sure to enter traffic a few cars behind the delivery truck so he could stay undetected. Once they entered Easton, Eugene made a delivery to a fast food restaurant, and then he parked his van at a truck stop and went inside. Michael parked on a side street and watched as Eugene bought some food and took it out to his truck.