You Can't Hide: A pulse-pounding serial killer thriller (7th Street Crew Book 3)

by Willow Rose

  “What happened?” I ask.

  “Looks like a car crashed into the Thai-place. Not much left of it, though. Hope no one was hurt.”

  I hit the gas pedal once we’ve passed the accident and accelerate down Minutemen Causeway. “I remember reading that he lives in this huge mansion by the country club,” I say. “It has eleven bedrooms. The biggest house in Cocoa Beach.”

  Chloe grabs her phone and starts to tap on it.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, as we drive past the two schools and into the residential area.

  “Checking if you’re right.”

  “How do you do that?”

  “Wait and see.”

  Chapter Ninety-Eight

  April 2016

  “Bingo.”

  Chloe exclaims and looks up at me, just as I park the car in front of the big gate to Theodor G’s mansion.

  “What?” I ask and lean over to better see.

  “I think you might be on to something after all,” she says. “Look who ordered a tankful of formaldehyde two years ago?”

  “Theodor G?”

  “Close enough. It was ordered in the name of the company behind Pull ‘N Pork, but my guess is it was him, yes. There aren’t that many places around here that sell that stuff; it’s mostly for funeral parlors. It was pretty easy to break into their records.”

  “A tankful you say? That’s a lot.”

  Chloe nods. I stare at the huge gate and the cameras. Of course the guy has a fort. I always thought it was to keep people out, not in. I can’t stop thinking about Salter and whether he is in there right now, scared to death.

  “Why didn’t we bring any of the guys again?” Chloe asks. “Or call the police?”

  “None of them would have believed me,” I say. “You hardly did.” I reach into my purse and pull out my dad’s 9 mm. “Besides, I did bring one of the boys.”

  “Maybe we should call Alex or Joey first. Have them come here.”

  I scoff. “You think they can do a better job than I can? I’ve been taking lessons at the shooting range for six months now. Besides, there’s no time to waste. We can’t wait for them to get here.”

  I get out of the car and Chloe follows me. As I step outside, I hear a scream. I look at Chloe. “You hear that? It sounded like a child.”

  Chloe nods. “All right. What do you want to do? The place is a fort. I’m guessing he won’t be opening the door if we ring the bell.”

  “Are you so sure about that?” I ask.

  Chapter Ninety-Nine

  April 2016

  The girl refuses to die. Danh is holding onto the cord as tight as he can, but the girl is still kicking and screaming, and worst of all, she is still breathing, no matter how tight he squeezes her neck.

  And now there is someone by the gate. Danh sees them on the camera and recognizes the woman as that blogger, the one who interviewed him at the rally about his involvement in the protest.

  What does she want now?

  Danh holds onto the cord and struggles to keep the girl down, while thinking they’ll go away if he ignores them. But they don’t. They’re still ringing the intercom and the noise disturbs him mentally.

  How am I supposed to kill someone with all this noise?

  Finally, the girl seems to lose the fight. The kicking becomes more random, and soon it stops completely. The intercom buzzes again and Danh growls. “All right. All right! I’m coming,” he yells at the monitors, where the two women are standing looking expectantly at the gate.

  He lets go of the lifeless girl, then walks out of the room and closes the door behind him. The girl is ready now and he can begin the injections as soon as she is cold. That should give him enough time to get rid of these two annoying women.

  Danh presses the Intercom. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

  “Yes. I am so sorry, Mr. G,” the blogger says. “I know it’s late, but we were out walking my dog, and suddenly it saw a small bunny, and before we could do anything it chased it onto your property through the hedge over there. Would it be alright if we came inside and looked around for him?”

  Danh grunts. He is terrified of dogs. The thought of one being loose on his property makes him very uncomfortable. He won’t close an eye all night just thinking about it. And even worse if it finds its way into the house. That would be awful.

  “All right,” he says and presses the button to open the gate. “But hurry up. And use a leash next time you walk your dog, will you?”

  “Sure. Again, I am so sorry about this, Mr. G.”

  Danh rolls his eyes and turns away with the intention of walking back to the girl, his soon to be new Long. He thinks he finally found the right one. He has gone through several and none of them were quite right, but this one is promising.

  When he turns around, he sees a figure standing in front of him in the darkness. The figure walks into the light. He is smiling.

  “What the heck are you doing here?” Danh asks, appalled by his ugly face. “You’re not getting any more money until you deliver the mother. You know that.”

  Boxer shakes his head. “No. No. No more. Now it’s your turn to do something for me.”

  Danh rolls his eyes again. He scratches his head. This guy annoys him. “I don’t have time. I have things to do.”

  “You hear those sirens?” Boxer asks. “That’s the police looking for me. I have nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. You have to hide me and help me get out of the country when things simmer down out there. I know you have a private jet.”

  “Have to?” Danh says, blowing raspberries. “I don’t have to do anything.”

  “Oh, yes, you do. Or I’ll take you down with me. I’ve saved everything; every chat, every deal we’ve made is saved on my computer.”

  “You did what? What kind of an idiot are you?”

  “I was just protecting my future,” he says. “It was all going so well. I was going to leave and get out of here. I would have brought the computer with me. But then those women came to my house…” Boxer clenches both his fists.

  Danh stares at the Boxer. “What women?” He grabs Boxer by the neck and pulls him to the monitor by the front door. The two women that he let onto his property are walking around, calling the dog’s name.

  “These women? Tell me Boxer, dearest, are these the same two women?”

  Chapter One Hundred

  April 2016

  “Snowflake? Snowflake?”

  I am yelling while walking around the huge yard, pretending to be looking for my dog, while Chloe and I are really studying the cameras and trying to find a way into the house.

  “I think I might have found something,” Chloe says, keeping her voice low. “There’s no camera here by this back window. It’s locked, but I know a trick.”

  She takes off her shirt, wraps it around her wrist and hand, then slams it through the glass. I gasp in surprise.

  “Chloe! Are you alright?”

  “Damn, that hurt. I thought it would be so easy. They do it on TV like it’s nothing.”

  “Chloe, your hand is bleeding!” I grab her shirt and rip off some of the fabric from the sleeve to make a bandage, then help her get the rest of the shirt back on.

  “Damn, it was my favorite,” she grumbles, when she sees the ripped shirt. Blood from her hand has colored it red in spots.

  “I’ll buy you a new one,” I say, and examine the broken window. I remove the fragments of broken glass so we won’t cut ourselves. “You think he heard us?”

  “Probably,” Chloe says, and climbs inside, careful not to touch any of the broken glass on her way.

  I follow her, and soon after we’re both standing in a room inside the mansion. It’s very dark. Chloe finds a door and opens it carefully, making sure no one is waiting on the other side. When she finds the hallway outside empty, we sneak out. I have the gun in my hand as we find a stairwell and walk up. I keep thinking we might find my son in one of the bedrooms. I go first through the hallway, opening on
e door after another, gun in my hand, examining every room we reach until I find one where the light is on and I spot two bowls of cereal tipped over on the wooden floor.

  “Someone was in here,” I whisper and we walk inside. The cereal and milk are scattered all over the floor in front of the chimney. Black ashes from the fireplace are spilled out, which I find odd. I bend down and look up the chimney. A small whimper makes me look further up, and I spot a set of eyes staring back at me. They belong to a little girl. She looks terrified.

  “Who are you?” I ask.

  She doesn’t answer.

  “I’m Mary. I won’t hurt you.”

  She still doesn’t open her mouth.

  “Please,” I say. “I can get you out of here.”

  Finally, she gives in. Slowly, she slides down the sides. I crawl out and help her get outside. I recognize her face from the pictures and clasp my mouth.

  “Tara?”

  The brown eyes in the dirty face from the soot inside the chimney stare back at me. Then she nods.

  I am brought to tears. I pull her close and hug her tight. “Oh, my God, Tara. You’re still alive. I can’t believe I found you.”

  I hug her again and close my eyes. As I open them again, Chloe is standing by the door, a gun to her head. Holding the gun is Dr. Seuss. Next to him is the Boxer. Dr. Seuss looks at the girl in my arms.

  “Thank you,” he says. “I’ve been looking all over for her.”

  “Really?” I say. “And you never thought about looking inside the chimney?”

  Dr. Seuss’s eyes turns to ice. “Hand her over or your friend dies.”

  I look into Chloe’s eyes. They tell me no. Don’t do it. “Where is my son?” I ask, trying to stall for time.

  Dr. Seuss looks confused. “What?”

  “My son. Salter. You took him.”

  “What?”

  His confusion makes me angry. I draw my gun and point it at Dr. Seuss. “Where is my son? Tell me or I’ll kill you. I don’t care if you kill her or anyone else. I demand to know what happened to my son!”

  Chapter One Hundred One

  April 2016

  It doesn’t work. Of course it doesn’t. I should have known. Especially since I have failed to notice that Boxer has his hand on a baseball bat that he now swings and hits me in the side of my head. The blow makes me pull the trigger, but I miss Dr. Seuss and the bullet hits the wall behind him instead, while I fall forward into the floor with the taste of blood in my mouth.

  I am not really conscious. Still, I sense that I am being lifted up and carried down the stairs. I feel my body being moved, but I can’t do anything about it. I hear loud voices around me and a lot of yelling, but can’t really determine if it is real or just part of a dream.

  Not until I finally come back ten minutes or so later. When I do, it is all quiet around me. I open my eyes and look into the face of Paige Stover. Her eyes are closed and she is not moving. Her throat has marks from being strangled. I gasp and sit up. That’s when I realize I have duct tape covering my lips. I can’t scream. I can’t yell or even talk.

  Where am I?

  My arms are tied behind my back with a cord. My legs are tied together too. My head is pounding where the bat hit me. Paige and I aren’t the only ones in the room. There’s a dinner table with two people are sitting at. I look at Paige. Is she alive? She looks very pale.

  Who are the people at the table?

  I manage to get up on my feet and jump with my feet very close together towards the table. I jump small bunny jumps to get there, and as I approach, I get a strange sensation in my stomach. Whether it is the strong smell that makes my stomach turn or the sight that meets me, I don’t know. But suddenly I feel very sick.

  Zombies is the word that comes to mind. Zombies sitting at a table. Dead faces, one of them with very little hair or skin left. Dried up, dead bodies, sitting there like they were waiting to be served, but the waiter never came. Crooked bony fingers on the white tablecloth. I recognize the one body as Maria Verlinden, Tara’s mom, and feel even worse.

  Did she see it? Did Tara see what happened to her mom? Oh, my God, I hope she didn’t.

  I panic and my stomach turns so bad I feel like throwing up. But I can’t. The duct tape will only make me choke on my own vomit, so I hold it back. The taste in my mouth is awful. I swallow. It burns my throat. I close my eyes and turn away from this strange scene. I jump back to Paige’s body and throw myself on the floor next to her. I am crying heavily now. It’s all such a mess. Where is Salter if he isn’t here? I miss him terribly. I remember the look on Dr. Seuss’s face when I asked about him, and I wonder if he was being truthful. Did he really not know? The thought is terrifying, because now I have no idea where to look for him, but it is also little optimistic. It leaves me with the small hope that maybe he wasn’t kidnapped after all. Maybe he is just really angry with me and has run away like a normal kid.

  I comfort myself with the thought of it, then start to wonder where the others can be. Where is Chloe and what about Tara? Are either of them still alive? Have they taken them somewhere? Where? How am I supposed to get out of here and find my son? Will they kill me next?

  How will I ever get out of this alive?

  Chapter One Hundred Two

  April 2016

  “What are we going to do?”

  Boxer is freaking out. He is walking up and down Danh’s living room, frantically biting his lips. Danh takes a couple of deep breaths.

  “What do you mean?”

  “What do I mean? What do I mean? Look around?” Boxer points at the red-haired woman tied to a chair, the young girl next to her tied up as well. Both are grunting and gnarling behind the duct tape, struggling to get loose.

  Danh looks at them and shrugs. “What about them?”

  Boxer groans and pulls his hair. He gesticulates wildly as he speaks. “You have another one in there, unconscious, and a dead young girl. What do you intend to do about all of them? Don’t you think someone will eventually come looking for them? Oh, my God, what if they told people they were coming here? I bet the police will be here shortly.”

  “They won’t find anything here when they come,” Danh says, while opening the box of syringes.

  “What do you mean? Are you planning on killing them? All of them? Hey, man, I’m no killer. I was only in it for the money. That’s all. I’m not going to kill anyone.”

  Danh pulls out a syringe, the biggest he has, and holds it in the air. Yes, that should do the trick. The needle is brutally big, but it will go faster this way.

  “I don’t have time to kill them,” Danh says. He walks to the kitchen, then comes back with two more syringes, which he prepares.

  “So…so what is your plan?”

  Danh sighs and closes his eyes. Part of him hopes this Boxer will be gone when he opens them again, but he is still there.

  “I-I-I…I can’t be here…when you, I can’t kill…I’m no killer.”

  Danh tilts his head as he looks at him, the poor thing, getting himself all worked up. “Have you heard of survival of the fittest?” Danh asks, while walking to the table and picking up a syringe. He fills it from one of the big bottles he has lined up on the table in front of him.

  Boxer nods his head. “Of course I have.”

  Danh smiles. “Good. Good. So you understand that the animal that wins gotta scratch and fight and claw and bite and punch, and the animal that doesn't…well, the animal that doesn't winds up someone else's la-la-la-la-lunch—munch, munch, munch, munch, munch?”

  Boxer stares at Danh. He is at loss for words, it’s obvious. Danh finds it amusing. But he has no time to be playing with his little friend anymore. He walks over, grabs Boxer around his shoulders, holds him down so he can’t move, then places the needle on his neck and pierces it through the skin. He empties the syringe completely before he lets go of the screaming Boxer.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Boxer yells, pulling away forcefully, but it’s too late
. He’s too slow.

  “You might say I am preserving you. Did you know that formaldehyde, when injected into your body, turns into formalic acid? When the fluid enters the arteries, pressure builds throughout the veins, which means the fluid is moving throughout the body. You'll notice your veins bulging somewhat. That’s your blood trying to get out, the fluid is pressuring it out, so to speak. When I do it to a dead body, I usually have to open the jugular drain tube periodically to allow blood to escape and relieve the pressure. But I have never tried it to someone who is still alive. I am curious as to what will happen. Now, what do you know? The big vein on your neck is already bulging. I didn’t know it would go that fast.” Danh approaches his neck and touches the vein, caressing it with his finger.

  “What the hell have you done to me!?” Boxer yells and pulls away, holding a hand to his neck. He stumbles backwards, looking at his hand, where the veins are now bulging too, screaming in terror.

  Boxer staggers backwards through the living room, zig zagging and groaning in pain. Danh leaves him; he doesn’t have time for him. He’ll have to find him later and throw him in the river with the others. Just like when you kill a cockroach with spray and it runs to hide, it always shows up the next day dead on the floor somewhere. So will he.

  Next, Danh picks up another syringe and turns to look at the woman and young girl in front of him.

  “Who wants to be next?”

  Chapter One Hundred Three

  April 2016

  I hear voices coming from the next room, followed by loud screaming. It scares me like crazy. Then I hear a sound that doesn’t scare me but fills me with relief instead. The sound is coming from Paige’s mouth.

  She is alive. Oh, my God, she’s still alive!

  “Paige,” I say, muffled behind the tape.

  Slowly, she opens her eyes and looks at me. She gasps and is about to scream, but then hesitates.

  Good girl. Don’t speak. Don’t say anything.