Hunting Gorgeous: A Romantic Suspense

by B. B. Hamel

  I climbed up over the hill and looked down into a valley. Below, there were several statues, sculptures of some sort, and it took me a moment to recognize them. The one on the far left seemed somehow familiar, but it was the fourth one that caught my eye.

  That was Delia, Rose’s sister, no doubt in my mind. As soon as I realized that, the rest of them came into focus.

  They were crude and not very well done, but each one represented one of his victims. There was another girl there that I didn’t recognize, slotted in after the second body, and I guessed it was a victim we didn’t know about.

  CGK appeared on the horizon. His game character was a short, dark-haired man. He didn’t come too close.

  Do you like them?

  I think they’re sick, I said, tired of trying to placate him. And I think you know it.

  Rose walked out with my whiskey. She placed it down then frowned at the screen. “What are you doing?”

  “Blockcraft. With CGK.”

  She stared at me, her mouth falling open. “What?”

  “He invited me while you were in the kitchen. We’re on a server right now.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “I should have. But sit down. I just got in.”

  She looked like she wanted to argue more, but dropped it, and sat. I sipped the whiskey, then she took it from me and threw it back with a glare.

  Sick, sick, sick, you don’t know sick. You saw where I learned to love. You saw the way I love. These are my girls, my lovely girls. They’ll be with me forever. And you will too, as my slave. His character came closer. It was almost creepy, and I felt Rose tense beside me. Your Rose escaped once. She won’t again.

  You know you’re going to get caught, don’t you? I typed. We’re going to find you. It’s only a matter of time.

  He typed, maybe, maybe, maybe. His character walked circles around the statues. But what does it matter, in the end? I have my lovelies. I’ll have you as well. I know I should run and be happy with my harem, but I can’t help myself, I’m a bad greedy man. I want what I want. And our game is too fun.

  Rose touched my hand. “Let me.”

  I frowned at her, but moved aside. She began typing.

  Gregory, it’s me, it’s Rose. I want you to know that I’ve been thinking a lot about you. You’re very sad, aren’t you? Gregory? You’re very sad and alone. Delia was good to you, wasn’t she?

  CGK didn’t answer right away. His character didn’t move. I thought he’d left, and I wondered if we’d lost our chance—until his text appeared again.

  Rose, you honor me, he typed. Delia was nice, oh, yes, one of the best. It was sad, what happened, but she will be with me always, and if you come to me, come join me where I am, you can be with her forever. Do you want that, Rose? Rose?

  I want to be with my sister, Rose typed, But I don’t want to be with you. I’m sorry, Gregory, but I’m not her.

  No, you aren’t. More’s the pity, but also, more’s the merrier. I’ll come for you, Rosey. We’ll take Nick with us.

  He logged off and disappeared.

  “Let me take screenshots,” I said, and Rose moved over. I started taking pictures of all the girl statues, paying close attention to the one I didn’t recognize. When I was finished, I did a quick circuit of the world map CGK had created, but the statues were the only important part. The rest was just the game.

  “It’s not finished.” Rose stood as I closed the laptop lid and shut it off. “He’s nowhere near done.”

  “No, he’s not.”

  “I thought— some part of me hoped he’d disappear. Isn’t that stupid? I mean, it’s why we came back.”

  “It’s not stupid,” I said. “I keep thinking about what happened. I can’t stop thinking about it, over and over again. It comes back to me when I least expect it, haunting, blaming. I could’ve done better. I should have—”

  She sat down again and touched my arm, then my thigh, then leaned forward and kissed me.

  I kissed her back then hugged her close. God, her body felt good, close to mine. Real, alive, breathing. Right.

  “You did nothing wrong,” she said. “You saved Judy. You almost got him. We couldn’t have known he was going to do that.”

  “I should’ve seen it,” I said softly.

  “You’re going to get another chance.” She pulled back, looking into my eyes. “One more chance. We’ll take him out next time. Me and you. Promise me.”

  “I promise,” I said. I took her hands in mine and kissed her knuckles. “I won’t stop until he’s dead or in prison. I swear it, no matter what.”

  We sat in silence and let that linger. She kissed me one more time then stood and wandered toward the kitchen. She had such long legs, beautiful arms, a beautiful back, a gorgeous face, and the light hit her just right, slanting in from the window, making her hair shine, and for a moment, she was angelic and pure.

  “I’d better send all that to Head,” I said. “See if they can’t find something.”

  “When you’re done that, come eat with me.”

  She disappeared into the kitchen again as I turned to the laptop.

  Damn computer, damn fake world. Damn CGK, playing his games.

  I gathered up all the digital data and send it off to Head and his technicians, then got up and went to her.

  25

  Rose

  Nick was still asleep when I woke the next morning. He was on his side in my bed, his broad back bare and muscular. I was tempted to run my fingernails down his skin, but he needed to sleep.

  He was in pain. I knew he wanted to pretend like he wasn’t, but I saw the suffering. He was obsessed with what happened at the bed and breakfast. He couldn’t stop torturing himself about Judy, and CGK, and wondering if there was anything he could’ve done differently—but none of that mattered.

  He survived. And he kept Judy alive. He stopped CGK from ambushing us, and without him, we would’ve both been killed.

  I grabbed some running stuff and snuck out in the early morning golden light. I dressed in the living room, made coffee, drank it down black and hot, then stepped out onto the front porch. I figured I’d let Nick sleep. CGK was too injured from their fight to keep up with me anyway.

  I hit the gravel driveway and started to run. I jogged out to the main street, crossed it, and headed down into a residential neighborhood. I went past house after house, each of them the same, each of them different, built in their own small community set away from the world. I wondered why we lived like that—why we didn’t live in other ways, closer to each other. Maybe then people like CGK wouldn’t exist, or at least we could find them faster.

  Sweat rolled down my skin. I felt good and free for the first time in a while. It was nice, running on my own. Running had always been my escape, the way I’d gotten out into the world and forgotten about my problems for a little while. I liked the movement and the burn, I liked my heart beating fast, my lungs sucking in air. I liked making myself exhausted and pushing past the discomfort.

  That was running, in a nutshell: sustained discomfort. I thought it made me stronger, lingering in that space. Not many people actively sought pain, but I wanted it, wanted all of it. I went a little bit faster, feeling wind in my hair, and went up a hill, my thighs burning. My breath came in fast as I hit the top and turned left, angling back toward the house.

  But instead of going in, I hit the trail out back. I ran up the bike jumps and down them again, going faster and faster. I pumped my arms and sucked in wild deep gulping breaths of fresh forest air, smelled the tree sap, the dander and the pollen. I heard cars nearby, and a plane flew overhead. I went down the path as far as it would go, down toward where it ended at a manmade drainage runoff, where the nearby neighborhoods all spit out the overflow water from when it rained. I skirted around it then turned around to head back, digging in my heels—

  And slipped on some loose mud. I gasped as my ankle turned and I hit the ground ha
rd.

  My ears rang when I sat up. I cursed and got to my knees, then to my feet. I flung mud off my hands and wiped it down my legs. I was covered in it. I hadn’t realized the path was slippery until it was too late, and I went down a lot harder than I thought I would.

  I took a step, ready to get running again, but pain lanced up my ankle.

  “Ah, shit,” I said, and took another limping step. I grimaced in pain. It wasn’t debilitating, but it was bad enough that I couldn’t run. I’d only make it much worse.

  I began to walk, limping like a moron, back down along the path and into the trees.

  I’d gone far, about a mile out. I ran a pretty solid eight-minute mile on average when I was really moving. But on foot, it would take me twice that long, at least.

  The woods seemed vast and oppressive. I tried to go faster, but the pain in my ankle made me slow down. I kept my eyes straight ahead, and all the freedom, the joy I’d felt when I was running, evaporated in the anxiety of being injured and far from Nick.

  If CGK broke into the house now, I wouldn’t be there to help. Nick was strong, but his injury was serious. The doctors didn’t want to let him go yet, but I talked them into it, and a word from the local cops got the discharge processed. I should never have left him alone, not until he was healed more. I doubled my efforts, wincing as I went, pushing to walk as fast as I could.

  I heard a noise nearby. I slowed and looked around. I didn’t recognize this part of the path. I didn’t normally come this far. I kept going, and heard another noise: a broken stick not far away.

  “Hello?” The path widened ahead and I hurried toward that spot, thinking I’d have better sightlines. The bike jumps were there, and I might be able to climb on one and look around. “Anyone there?”

  I felt silly. It was probably a bird, or a deer, or something like that. Maybe a rabid fox at worse. I reached the wider section and slowed, searching the bushes, but saw nothing.

  I turned to head off again then stopped as a figure stood in my way.

  My heart doubled and I let out a scream. He came at me, grinning big. “Lovely,” he said.

  I tried to turn but he was on me then, grabbing my wrists. I screamed again, louder, and turned. I tried to hit him in the crotch but he threw me to the ground. He shoved a hand over my mouth and pinned me down, his eyes wide, his nose crooked and broken. His eyes were both black, and he had cuts all over his face. He looked like a demon, and he practically slobbered in my face.

  “Oh, yes, I have you now, oh, yes, I do. Never should have come out alone, little rabbit, and now you’re mine, yes, you are. Lovely Rose, my beautiful Rose.” He twisted me around and got my hands behind my back. I heard him rip off some tape and wrap it around my wrists. I struggled, but he kept a knee in my back, and hit me in the back of my head with his fist. “Don’t move, you sow.”

  I groaned and screamed again, this time with rage. He hit me again, rolled me over and shoved a piece of tape over my lips.

  I could barely breathe. I sucked in air through my nose as he dragged me to my feet. He stood me up against a tree and looked at me, pacing back and forth. I thought about running, but I wouldn’t get far, not with the tape on my mouth and my wrists, and my messed-up ankle.

  “Lovely girl,” he said and laughed. “Oh, I got so lucky. I followed you, you know. You run very fast. You’re very beautiful when you run. I saw that spill though, very unlucky, oh, darling. I’m sure that hurt. I felt very sad, to see you go down like that. Your sister would’ve been so upset.”

  I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. To go to hell and burn there. But of course, nothing left my lips.

  He walked close and looked into my eyes. He had a line shaved down one eyebrow—likely from where Starch had hit him. Or maybe Nick had gotten him, I couldn’t be sure.

  “We’ll go now,” he said softly, lips wet and glistening. “We’ll go, and you’ll join them all. I know you’ll be happy. Won’t you be happy, lovely? Come then. Come with me.” He took my arm.

  I resisted until he hit me again.

  Then I followed him, staggering into the underbrush.

  26

  Nick

  The house was empty.

  Fresh coffee was in the kitchen. I poured myself a mug then checked the basement. I looked out in the backyard, even stood near the woods and shouted her name a few times, but I couldn’t find Rose.

  Low-level anxiety plagued me as I went back inside.

  Her running shoes were gone, and I had a feeling I knew where she was. Anxiety mixed with anger as I stepped out onto the porch, barefoot, in sweats and a t-shirt, drinking my coffee. It was a nice morning, and I could picture her jogging along in her tight running pants, sweating a little bit, ponytail bobbing up and down. My arm ached, my face felt like a wreck, and I wondered if the pain would ever go away.

  Even as broken and fucked-up as I was, she never should’ve gone somewhere without me.

  I paced across the porch, waiting. The driveway remained empty. The forest remained quiet. I turned to step back inside, then heard the sound of something strange—something mechanical and consistent. I turned and frowned as the three boys we’d seen out riding their bikes came tearing out from the woods and onto the gravel driveway, then sped up when they spotted me.

  Their names drifted back. Taylor, John, and Billy. Two were brothers. The oldest was in the lead, wearing baggy jeans and a black sweatshirt, sweat dripping from his forehead. He skidded to a stop down at the foot of the porch steps.

  “Hey, you!” he shouted, jumping off his bike. “That girl you were with? The one shooting that gun?”

  “Rose?” I stepped toward them, pulse racing.

  “There was a guy in the woods and he jumped out from the bushes when she was, like, walking and he said this weird stuff and he did something to her, I think he put like tape over her face and he, like, dragged her into the woods and—”

  “Slow down,” I said. “You saw Rose? You saw someone take her?”

  “Yes, sir,” he said. “Some guy. Black hair. Took her into the woods.”

  “Stay there.” I ran into the house, grabbed my boots, and shoved them over my bare feet. I grabbed my gun from the coffee table and ran back out. The boys stared at it, and I shoved it back into my waistband. “Show me where you saw it.”

  “They went toward the old drainage ditch,” the younger one said. “This way!”

  He tore off. The other boys followed. I set off at a run, barely keeping up. They had to slow down for me, but we moved at a fast pace. My breath came in ragged and hard as I ran as fast as I could, into the woods, onto the dirt path, around the bike jumps, heading toward the development nearby.

  Rose, Rose, goddamn it, Rose. If that bastard hurt her, if he touched her, I was going to kill him. Pain ripped through my shoulder with every movement, and I knew I was pushing myself too hard, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t care if my stitches tore and I bled out in the dirt—so long as I got her back to safety, I didn’t care.

  The boys skidded to a stop where the path turned narrow, a few feet past the jumps. “We were riding bikes and we saw her run past and the guy was sort of, like, following,” the oldest said, wild-eyed. “Then she came back walking, like limping a little bit. I guess she hurt herself? I was gonna go talk to her when the guy jumped out. I don’t think he saw us though. He was watching her real close.”

  “Which way did he take her?”

  He pointed. “That way.”

  I walked down the path a bit. I found a smaller trail that branched off the main one. It was hardly there, just a gap between the bushes. I looked back at the kids. “Go call for help.” I tossed the oldest my phone. “Call 911 and tell them where we are. Go wait for them near the road and make sure they find us.”

  “Are you gonna be okay?” the youngest asked.

  “I’ll be fine.” I gestured at them. “Get the hell out of here. Go right now. Ride fast. Call 911 when you get to the road!”

  They tur
ned and went, kicking up dirt behind their tires.

  I waited until they were gone before plunging into the forest. I wouldn’t risk getting those kids hurt. I hoped they could get far enough away.

  And I hoped backup arrived in time, but I doubted it.

  The path wound along through the trees. I kept low and left the gun where it was. I didn’t want him to see it right away. I covered it with my shirt, making sure it was hidden. Birds chirped in the trees and the sunlight was pretty, dappled on the ground. Sticker bushes tugged at my pants. I pushed through, forward, forward, and ahead the trees thinned.

  Beyond, I saw a drainage lake. Large concrete pipes poured water into a low-lying section of wilderness, mostly marsh grass and cattails, with some scrubby weed-like trees and crawling ivy. I walked toward it, heart racing, as I parted a dense thicket of foliage and stepped into thick mud.

  I saw them, up ahead, in the center of the ditch.

  Rose was down on her knees. CGK paced around her, holding a long knife in one hand. He was talking, saying something, but I couldn’t hear. His words were swallowed by the plant life. Rose’s hands were behind her back, and a piece of duct tape covered her lips. I moved closer, going slow, resisting the urge to pull my gun—not yet. I had to get closer. I was a good shot, but if I missed, if I fucked up, she was dead.

  CGK stopped pacing suddenly. He walked behind Rose and turned to face me, eyes locked on mine, a wicked smile stretching over his lips.

  I cursed and stood up straight, hands in the air as he held the knife against her neck.

  I should’ve taken the shot, but I was still too far away to be effective. I began to walk toward him.

  “Stop,” he barked. “Stay where you are.”

  I slowed, but didn’t stop. “Gregory,” I said. “It’s good to see you again.”

  He sneered. “Come now, awful Nick. You don’t mean that. The last time you saw me, you tried to hurt me. Do you remember that? Trying to hurt me?”