Shattered

by Cynthia Eden

  “Good night, Sarah,” Jax whispered.

  Sleep tight. You know you’re safe tonight.

  She closed her eyes.

  Chapter 14

  SARAH SAT AT THE LITTLE TABLE IN THE NARROW prison cell. The warden had granted her special permission for this little visit. She was surrounded by prison bars, and the table in front of her was about five feet long. Jax was next to her, looking as dangerous as usual. Two guards waited near the cell’s door. They were both armed.

  Sarah had pulled back her hair. She hoped that she looked cool and in control. Looked that way, because on the inside, she was a ball of nerves. She couldn’t let her father see those nerves, though. He would use any weakness that he could spot.

  She heard the clang of another door opening. The shuffle of footsteps. He was coming.

  Her chin lifted. Her heart raced.

  Jax reached over. He caught her wrist and his fingers slid over her scar in the briefest of caresses. “I’ll be at your side the whole time.”

  She nodded. He let her wrist go and . . .

  Her father came in.

  He was wearing a garish orange prison jumpsuit. His hands were shackled and his feet were in ankle cuffs. He shuffled forward, moving slowly, and when he saw Sarah, a wide smile lit his face.

  Prison should have changed him. He should have lost weight. Lost his hair. Grown pale and skeletal. He should have aged.

  But . . . he hadn’t changed.

  His hair was still a rich, thick black. His skin was still golden. His body was fit, probably because he spent hours working out in his cell. Her father had always been handsome—that had been part of his lure. People have such a hard time seeing evil when it’s wrapped in a nice package.

  Those had been his words.

  “Sweetheart, it’s been too long.” He ignored the guards who shadowed his movements as he came toward the table. “You need to come and see your father more often.”

  He was chiding her, as if she were just a daughter who hadn’t visited her dear old dad often enough. Like any father would say to his daughter. But he wasn’t any father. And she sure wasn’t just any daughter.

  “Hello, Dad,” Sarah said softly. She didn’t let emotion enter her voice. With him, she couldn’t.

  His smile stretched a little more.

  The guards eased him into the seat across from her, and Sarah watched silently as they secured his restraints. Then the guards stepped back. They wouldn’t leave the room, that wasn’t a possibility, not with Murphy the Monster. Sure, he might look all well-behaved right then, but he could turn in an instant. Could, and had in the past. After one of her earlier visits, he’d gotten particularly violent. She’d learned that a guard had been hospitalized for three weeks after that encounter.

  Everyone took extra care now. Everyone.

  “And who is this, sweetheart?” Her father asked as his gaze slid to Jax. Her father’s stare was even darker than Sarah’s own. That stare of his was assessing as it slid over Jax. Jax just looked back¸ his face stoic. His body seemingly relaxed. “Well, well . . .” her father murmured. “Isn’t this interesting.” But his face . . . hardened . . . as he looked at Jax. A flash of what could have been anger appeared in his eyes. “Very interesting.”

  It was then that Sarah realized something was wrong. The way her father looked at Jax . . . He looks at him as if he knows Jax.

  But that wasn’t possible, was it?

  Sarah kept her chin up and her spine straight as she faced her father. “How have you been?” An innocent question. Amiable. She knew that was the way he liked to start things. As if they were just getting together for a friendly chat. But the truth was that she’d come back to him in the past because she’d tried to learn more about his crimes. About his victims. And each time she visited, he usually revealed one more missing victim to her.

  Will the bodies ever stop piling up?

  “I can’t complain. These years I’ve spent locked away have passed so fast. Almost like a blink.” He inclined his head toward her even as that faint smile still curled his lips. “I have a new lawyer. He thinks that maybe I wasn’t given the fairest trial before. He’s looking for new evidence. Wants me to talk to some shrink he knows.”

  She’d heard nothing about a new lawyer. Sarah didn’t let her expression change even as fear spread within her.

  “But while I’ve been in prison, I missed so much. So many years with you.” He leaned forward. “I’ve served my time. Maybe it’s my turn to be free again.”

  Sarah shook her head. “The people you killed don’t get to be free.” Again, no emotion was there. She couldn’t allow emotion with him. It would be too dangerous.

  “Oh, Sarah . . .” His eyes actually twinkled then. As if she were a funny child who’d just amused him. “Those people deserved exactly what they got. You know that. The world is a better place without them in it.”

  Her father’s twisted logic. He’d always claimed that he was justified in his kills.

  Justified in killing young Ryan Klein because the boy had hurt Sarah. He’d made fun of her. The boy was a bully, obviously escalating in his wicked actions. If he hadn’t been stopped . . .

  “There’s no telling what they would have done,” her father murmured, “if I hadn’t intervened.”

  Her gaze fell to the table. To his cuffed hands. “You didn’t intervene. You killed. There’s a huge difference.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.” His voice was warm. “Are you so sure, Sarah?”

  She looked up at him. She was conscious of Jax moving slightly in his chair, edging toward her. No, Jax, no! Her father was so good at reading body language. The man was actually a genius, not that most people realized it. He would have made for a fantastic psychiatrist himself, provided he hadn’t been so ass-crazy.

  “I’m absolutely certain.”

  Her father’s lips thinned. “I can tell when you lie. You know that.”

  Enough of his small talk. It was wearing far too thin on her nerves. “I came today because someone is trying to kill me.”

  Surprise flickered on his face. Surprise, then rage. “Who?” It was a low, lethal whisper.

  Sarah swallowed. “I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me.”

  He shot to his feet. His restraints groaned and stretched with his movements. “You think I sent someone after you? Sarah, no! Never! You are mine. My flesh and blood and I would protect you . . . always.” His eyes glittered down at her. “Always.”

  She could feel goose bumps rising on her arms. No, I’m not. I’m not yours and I am nothing like you. “Do you remember Gwen Guthrie?”

  A muscle flexed in his jaw. “You know I can’t forget her.”

  Right. Not Gwen. Because she’d been her father’s first.

  “Life is funny,” Sarah said. “It’s filled with all of these chance encounters. Random events that don’t seem to make sense.”

  He slowly lowered back into his seat. The guard who’d stepped forward also eased back.

  “Your mother’s death wasn’t a random event,” her father said. “That woman killed her. She almost killed you.”

  And that was the instant her father’s life had changed. Now, with the understanding she’d gained through years of study, she realized that her father had probably managed to control his darker urges. Maybe her mother had even been some sort of anchor for him. True psychopaths didn’t form strong connections with others, but it certainly seemed that her father had bonded with her mother.

  And with me.

  Or, at least, bonded as much as he could.

  But when Sarah’s mother had died in that accident, her father had lost his anchor. There’d been no more hope for him. There had only been rage.

  “She’d been drinking,” Sarah explained as she glanced over at Jax. He was silently watching the byplay between her and her father. “Gwen Guthrie had been out partying that night. Mixing drugs and booze, and when she drove away, she never even noticed that the light
at the intersection was red.”

  Gwen had smashed into her mother’s side of the vehicle.

  It had sounded . . . well, just like a bomb had gone off. Sarah knew she’d never forget that sound. Boom. The impact had woken her from sleep in the backseat, and Sarah had screamed and screamed.

  Screamed as the glass fell.

  Screamed as the seat belt cut into her skin, seeming to burn her.

  Screamed . . . screamed while the firemen used the Jaws of Life to cut her mother out of the car.

  Her screams had stopped when she realized her mother wasn’t moving.

  “She laughed,” her father said. His gaze seemed to be focused on the past. “The cops were trying to get Gwen Guthrie in the back of their car, and she laughed while my Sabrina lay dead on the ground.”

  Sarah eased out a slow breath. “Gwen was sent to rehab. The judge gave her probation. She was a young, single mother. She had two small children. The judge put them in foster care while she was getting help—”

  “She wasn’t going to get better, Sarah.” Her father’s fingers tapped on the table. “When I found her, she was at the liquor store. Such a loving mother.”

  And Sarah had woken later, to Gwen Guthrie’s screams.

  I didn’t know! I didn’t!

  “Random events,” Sarah murmured. “Guess where I’ve been? Down in the Big Easy. I’d just finished working a case . . . when a woman named Molly Guthrie went missing.”

  Her father blinked. That was it . . . the only change in his expression. A slow blink.

  “The man who took Molly contacted me. You see, Dad, he knew about you. About your connection to Molly. He told me that Molly would suffer, just like Gwen had, if I didn’t find her.”

  He wasn’t tapping his fingers against the table any longer.

  “So my team and I started looking, but it was all a trap. For me. For them. The first place he led me to . . . it exploded just when my partner Wade was about to rush inside.” Her spine was so stiff that it was starting to ache. “The next time he called me, I managed to keep him on the phone long enough to get a trace—”

  “You were always so clever.” Pride beamed in those words.

  “We tracked him. Found the missing woman, but he’d wired that place, too. If it wasn’t for Jax,” her gaze darted to him, then back to her father, “I wouldn’t have gotten out, and neither would Molly.”

  Her father’s attention shifted to Jax. “You saved Sarah.”

  “He carried Molly out,” Sarah explained. “He—”

  Her father’s hands slammed into the table. “I don’t care about her.” He pointed at Jax. “I know what you are. I can see it. I could always see it.”

  Her father saw his own evil, that was all. Evil tainting everything around him.

  “The man wasn’t done, even though we got Molly away from him.” She waited for her father to look at her again, but he seemed only focused on Jax. “That’s when he came after me and my boss. He was following behind us, and he shot at the car.”

  Her father’s head slowly turned back to her.

  “The bullets were aimed at Gabe. I think he wanted to take Gabe out so that he could get to me.”

  “He’s a dead man.”

  Really? Her father was going to make threats? In prison?

  “He wants revenge,” Sarah said. “Maybe you can understand that. After all, isn’t that why you killed Gwen? For revenge?”

  “I stopped her from hurting anyone else! From destroying another family!”

  “And you were mad because Ryan had been mean to me, so you killed him—”

  “He was always going to be bad, Sarah. Always.”

  “You had a reason for them all, didn’t you? You could find a reason why every single one of them needed to die. Jonathan Kerns—”

  “He’d been selling drugs! He was going to hurt—”

  “Eliza Mayo—”

  “She was a prostitute, Sarah. She was sick and she was—”

  “Jennings White—”

  “That bastard was corrupt. He was taking away money that was mine—”

  “There was always a reason that you could come up with, but the simple truth is that you just wanted to kill. You came up with excuses so you wouldn’t have to admit to yourself . . . you’re a murderer, Dad. Murphy the Monster. You killed when the urge came to you.”

  He was silent. A faint line of red stained his cheeks.

  Most serial killers had preferred victim types. All blond women with blue eyes. Or college-age girls or—hell, a type. But her father had claimed victims of all ages, all races, and all sexes. That was one of the reasons he’d been so hard to catch. The cops had thought they were looking for multiple killers.

  Not just one man.

  “I thought you knew me better than this, Sarah.” The beam of pride was gone. He shook his head, disappointment slumping his shoulders. But . . . did he really feel disappointment? Did he really feel anything?

  Or was he just pretending?

  “Do you love me?” Sarah heard herself ask.

  “Of course,” he said instantly. “You are the only thing that matters to me.”

  “Then help me.” She couldn’t look away from him. “This man is coming for me. He wants to hurt me. He knows how to rig bombs and he knows how to fire a gun from a moving vehicle. He’s got training—”

  “Sounds military,” her father said.

  Because, yes, he’d been the one to teach her how to profile long before she’d studied psychiatry.

  “He’s a white male, probably in his thirties, maybe early forties.” Because he was fit and strong. “He has blond hair. Blue eyes . . .”

  Her father grunted. “Sounds like the guy next to you.”

  Jax leaned forward and put his hands on the table.

  “Nice tats,” her father murmured. Sarah shook her head. “Who does this perp match to? Who did you take from him?”

  Her father glanced back at her.

  “The blond man with military training. I gave you his description, his age. He’s in New Orleans now, but he could have been anywhere before.” And that was key because her father had crossed state lines. Another smart way to avoid detection. When the kills were spaced so far apart, it had been harder for the authorities to connect the dots and find their perp. “You took someone away from him, and now, Dad, he’s trying to take me away from you.”

  Her father’s focus shifted to Jax.

  “Not him,” Sarah said. “Dad, dammit, look at me! Tell me! I know there’s another victim out there. One that links to the man after me. I need that victim’s name. Give me the name, and then I can find this guy. I can unmask him, and I can stop him!” If her father would just give her a name.

  “I never forget a face,” her father said.

  “Dad . . .” He was still staring at Jax.

  “I’ve seen your face, son.”

  Jax stiffened. “We’ve never met. I don’t think I would forget you.” Anger hummed there, slicing in his words. Then Jax reached for Sarah’s hand. His fingers squeezed hers.

  Sarah had often doubted her father’s emotions but when she saw rage burn in his eyes right then—she knew that emotion was real.

  “I want you to get away from him, Sarah,” her father said in a voice that was low and intense. Then he shouted, “Guards! Guards! Escort my daughter out of here, now.”

  They immediately stepped forward. When the Monster said jump, even the guards moved.

  But Sarah didn’t.

  “You can’t trust him,” her father said with a slow shake of his head. “Get away. Now. Go back to your LOST friends . . . go back to them, Sarah.”

  Sarah didn’t move. “Jax is with me. I’m—”

  “You look a whole lot like him.” His cuffed hands pointed to Jax.

  Jax was frowning at her father. “Like who?”

  “He screamed, in the end. Wanted to die.”

  Sarah didn’t know who he was talking about then, but she wanted to push h
er father more so she said, “The man after me . . . he told me that he’d make Molly beg for death. He wanted her to beg before she died. When she didn’t beg, he didn’t kill her.” Her fingers were shaking so she balled them up in her lap. “Remind you of anyone?”

  And, just like that, the rage vanished from her father’s eyes. All of the emotion just winked away. “If they ask to die, then where’s the crime? It’s just like putting an animal out of its misery.” His head turned, almost snakelike, as he gazed at Jax once more. “Isn’t that right, Jax Fontaine?”

  Sarah stood up. “You’re not going to help me. You’re just going to let him keep attacking me. Keep coming until, what? He kills me?” Her hands were fisted at her sides. “Come on, Jax. We’re leaving. We’re—”

  Sarah stopped. She stared down at her father. Jax was rising beside her. Standing so close. Normally, he made her feel warm, but, right then, she was ice cold. “I never told you Jax’s last name.”

  A faint smile curled her father’s lips. “I never forget a face . . . or a name.”

  “You haven’t met Jax before.” But he’d said . . . I never forget a face. She tried to rush through the options in her mind. “You’ve been keeping tabs on me, haven’t you? You sent someone to watch me!”

  “From here?” He laughed. “Hardly. My reach isn’t that strong, Sarah. But I am flattered you think so.”

  “How did you know his last name?” Had a guard told him? They’d signed in before and—

  “I knew the man who took him, of course. Thought about killing him myself. But then, well, other prey came to my attention.” He shrugged, as if none of what they were discussing really mattered.

  Shock was rolling through Sarah. Her father was a master manipulator. Was he lying to them? Or was there a grain of truth in his words?

  Murphy’s eyes turned to slits as her father studied Jax. “Is that why you’ve taken up with daughter? Because you found out what I did?”

  “Wh-What?” Sarah could feel her careful control fracturing.

  “My victims deserved to die. They all did. Including your father.”

  Sarah stumbled against Jax. No, she didn’t stumble. He’d just grabbed her and pulled her close. “He’s lying,” Jax snarled.