CAUSE TO DREAD

by Blake Pierce

  And there were spiders everywhere. Big spiders. Some were crawling along the walls while others scurried on the floor.

  “You think he did this on purpose?” Connelly asked.

  “I don’t know,” Avery said, slowly backing out, unable to take her eyes away from the spiders. “Maybe. Maybe he was breeding them.”

  None of the spiders she saw was smaller than a penny. Some, she thought, might be able to swallow a penny. The idea that some of these may be the funnel web spiders crossed her mind and she backed out a little faster.

  “Come on,” she said. “I’ve got enough proof in the study that Kechner is our guy. We need to haul ass and find him before we get a call about someone discovering Heather Ellis’s corpse.”

  “Yeah, good idea,” Connelly said. Whatever fugue had overcome him seemed to slip away as he turned toward the door.

  Avery waited for him to come out, wanting to bring up the rear in the event Kechner was actually home and just waiting to jump out and ambush them. And it was because she took up the rear that she saw the spider crawling up the back of Connelly’s shirt. It was a large one, but not abnormally large. The coloring was odd and looked familiar; she’d seen a spider like that recently, while doing research.

  Funnel web spider…

  She opened her mouth to say something but in that moment, the spider had reached the bare skin of Connelly’s neck. Feeling it there, he instinctively swatted at it. In one moment, the house was filled with the sound of Connelly slapping at his neck and the next, it was filled with him howling in pain.

  It was more like a roar, actually. He slapped furiously at his neck again and fell against the wall. Avery looked to the dimly lit hallway floor and saw the spider scurrying away. Working on her own instinct, Avery lifted her foot and slammed it down on the creature. There was a satisfying crunch under her heel.

  Finley went to Connelly’s side, checking the area. No longer worried about stealth, Avery flipped the nearest light switch, filling the hallway with the light. The first thing she saw was the bite on Connelly’s neck. It was already growing red and swollen. The second thing she saw was two spiders coming out of the room which they had neglected to close—not that it would have mattered, because the smaller ones could have easily crept under the closed door. It made her wonder how many were already out in the house, wandering around and within inches of her own exposed skin.

  She helped Finley get Connelly to his feet while Kellaway grabbed her phone and called for an ambulance. Back out in the open air, Avery felt a bit better, no longer feeling herself freak out about potential spiders descending on her.

  “How much trouble am I in?” Connelly asked through a hiss of pain as they carried him back out to the cars.

  “The truth or comfort?” Avery asked.

  “Truth.”

  “I’m pretty sure it was a funnel web spider that got you. Several of their bites is what killed Alfred Lawnbrook. Depending on the species, you’ll be dead within an hour or just really sick for a few days.”

  “Shit,” Connelly said.

  “An ambulance is on the way,” Kellaway announced, pocketing her phone. “ETA eleven minutes.”

  “Do you want us to just drive you?” Finley asked. “It might be faster in the long run.”

  “Bad idea,” Avery said. “If there’s venom involved, he’s going to need drugs ASAP. I imagine they’ll administer them to him the moment they get here.”

  “She’s right,” Connelly said. He had fallen into the passenger seat of his car. He was starting to tremble a bit and the bite itself was getting nastier by the moment.

  “Black…Kellaway…go get this asshole. Do whatever you need to do. Just get him and bring his ass to the A1.”

  Avery hated to leave Connelly while in this state but knew that he was in capable hands with Finley. She gave Finley a stern look, trying her best to hide her concern for what was looking to be a rather grave situation.

  “Keep me posted on his status,” she said.

  “You got it. Now go do what you do.”

  Avery and Kellaway hurried to their car with Avery now more determined than ever. Barry Kechner was certainly not aware of it at this early hour, but he had just inadvertently hurt someone she respected and admired. Depending on how quickly Connelly got treatment, he could end up worse than just hurt.

  “Pull up Heather Ellis’s address,” Avery told Kellaway. “I think that’s our next stop.”

  “What do you think we’ll find?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said. She then recited the line from Howard’s latest letter, hoping that it was also true of Heather Ellis and could help them save her before it was too late. “Because we dwell on what we fear the most.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  Avery was not at all surprised to find that Heather Ellis was not at home. She lived in an apartment in a three-story building. When Avery and Kellaway arrived, people had started to wake up and get ready for their days. Some were even heading out of the door, perhaps hoping to get to work a little early. It was a reminder to Avery that sometime in the next few hours she should be getting a call from Rose, asking her to come pick her up from the hospital.

  And if this case keeps going on all cylinders like this, Avery thought, I won’t be able to make it. Dammit…

  The door to the apartment was not locked. And being that there was no one home and the woman that lived here was suspected missing or abducted, that was an automatic red flag to Avery.

  Inside, Heather’s apartment was a cute little space that looked like something off of a minimalist’s blog. And because it was so well kept and tidy, it was easy to see the signs of a recent struggle. A glass vase had been toppled from the small coffee table; it had not shattered but had fallen securely on the plush rug under the table. A pair of bedroom slippers was scattered across the living room, one by the front door and one beside the little counter that ran along the course of the kitchen.

  A laptop sat on a small decorative desk on the other side of the living room. While it was password protected, there was a picture on the lock screen that perhaps proved that Heather Ellis was indeed trying to overcome her fear. It showed a shirtless man with shaggy hair cliff diving off of some picturesque cliff. The production quality of the picture told Avery that it was not a personal picture, but one Heather had likely found online somewhere.

  They checked the rest of the apartment for any indication of where Barry Kechner might have taken her. She seriously doubted that he’d take her to some exotic location to go cliff diving and Boston didn’t really offer such attractions.

  In Heather’s bedroom, there was a small drawing desk where several sketches and impressive pastel drawings had been done. She saw meadows and trees done in pastel, as well as what looked like a woman in a dress, from the waist down. One of the drawings was a very well-done representation of a bridge, partially obscured by fog and mist. Over the desk was a frame made of pallet board with scarred wood on the inside. Within the frame was a quote, done in an elegant and trendy type of lettering.

  The quote read:

  I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.

  – Frank Herbert

  “That bridge,” Kellaway said, nodding to the pastel drawing. “You know what it is, right?”

  Avery looked back to it and realized that she did know what it was. She’d thought it looked familiar the first time she had looked at it but had been too busy looking for something a little more obvious.

  “Tobin Bridge,” she said. And on the heels of that, Howard again: We dwell on what we fear the most.

  “That’s the tallest bridge in the city, right?” Kellaway asked.

  “And Heather Ellis is afraid of heights.”

  Before the last comme
nt was out of her mouth, Avery pulled out her phone. With Finley and Connelly out of commission for the time being, she pulled up O’Malley’s number.

  “Hey, Black,” O’Malley said. “Why did you not call me about Connelly before now? He’s going to—”

  “O’Malley, I need you to reach out to the city and get a shitload of people together right now. We have to close down Tobin Bridge.”

  “What? Are you insane?”

  Avery and Kellaway were already out of Heather’s apartment and heading back down the stairs. Avery’s voice jostled a bit with each stair she took. “I can almost guarantee you that’s where the killer has taken his latest victim, Heather Ellis. I don’t know how long he holds on to them before he kills them, but maybe…”

  “Maybe there’s a chance,” O’Malley said. “You sure about this, Black?”

  “Just do it,” she nearly snapped into the phone.

  When they were back in their car, Avery peeled out into morning traffic, beeping her horn at the starting surge of morning traffic.

  “You think she’s still alive?” Kellaway asked.

  Avery thought of Lawnbrook, killed by spiders. Of Abby Costello, tossed into a secluded section of Jamaica Pond, and of Janice Saunders, terrified of the clowns that had abruptly showed up in her house. Each of those scenes had taken dedication and time to set up. She wondered how long Kechner had stood there and watched Abby Costello frantically trying to swim to the surface…how long he had stabbed Janice Saunders while he enjoyed her terror.

  Someone like this…he might take his time. He might want to prolong things as long as he could.

  “I think she might be,” Avery said.

  And while it was a very faint hope, it was at least something to cling to as she weaved through traffic toward the Tobin Bridge.

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

  The Tobin Bridge housed six lanes of US Highway 1 and crossed over Mystic River. It was a double-deck truss bridge that sat a little more than two hundred and fifty feet over the water at its highest point. As the bridge came into view, Avery was pretty sure that anyone trying to remain at least somewhat private in their actions would stay away from the middle of the bridge where morning traffic would be at its thickest.

  She knew that the deck beneath the bridge would be the most probable location for Barry Kechner to do his demented work. Doing it off of the upper deck where traffic zoomed by in the morning would be opening himself up to being caught easily. On the lower deck, he’d only have joggers and pedestrians to worry about. And given the cold weather, she doubted there would be many people out for a run or walk on the bridge this early.

  It was 7:56 when she and Kellaway arrived at the Tobin Bridge. Before she was even out of the car, she saw O’Malley shouting instructions at a team of other officers and a crew from the Massachusetts Department of Transportation. They were working feverishly to block off traffic from the bridge and doing so in a way that was as subtle and non-obstructive as possible. It was a smart move; if Barry Kechner was indeed here with Heather Ellis, there was no sense in tipping him off in any way.

  Avery and Kellaway rushed over to O’Malley. A look of relief flashed across his face when he saw her. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse from all of the shouting he’d been doing to be heard over the roar of morning traffic coming on and off of the Tobin Bridge.

  “Any sign of him?” Avery asked.

  “Yes, in fact. Two different drivers coming off of the bridge have stopped to tell us that there was a man walking along the edge, right between the rails. He had a woman with him that looked like she did not want to be with him. Seems to have been sighted just before the toll plaza. His car is pulled as far to the side as it will go. Dumbass even put his hazard lights on.”

  “How long ago?” Avery asked, her heart now slamming in her chest.

  “I don’t know,” O’Malley said, looking at his watch. “Maybe seven minutes ago?”

  “Okay,” Avery said. “Let us in.”

  She went back to her car and impatiently waited for O’Malley and his team to make way for her to enter the bridge.

  “So he’s here?” Kellaway asked.

  “Seems like it,” Avery said as she sped through the narrow lane O’Malley had made for her.

  She picked up speed quickly, heading for the toll plaza and Chelsea, waiting on the other side. The cleared lanes helped immensely and by the time her speed had reached fifty, she saw the car pulled over to the side of the bridge in what served as a thin breakdown lane, a pad of sorts along the edge of the bridge allowing for problematic or stranded motorists. Sure enough, she saw someone standing on the other side of the protective cables. The figure looked abnormal but that was only because it was actually two bodies: Barry Kechner and Heather Ellis.

  “You good?” Avery asked, reaching for her door handle.

  Kellaway nodded as she opened her door and instantly went for her Glock. She did not pull it but kept her hand resting there, light and ready to move at a moment’s notice. Avery felt her muscles twitching to do the same but she knew it would be a mistake. If she was taking the lead on this, Kechner could not see her in any sort of defensive position.

  When they stepped onto the pavement, the bridge was eerily quiet. Kechner and Heather Ellis stood about ten yards ahead of them, both clinging to the rails at the far edge of the bridge. The drop to the Mystic River below might not kill her, but it would probably hurt her enough to make it impossible to swim to shore. Avery looked to their hands, both clinging to the rails. One sudden movement or even just a sweaty palm, and they’d both go falling in an instant.

  Avery walked slowly. She could feel Kellaway behind her like some weird gravity that kept her grounded.

  “Barry Kechner?” Avery asked. She didn’t shout, but raised her voice enough to sound as if it were booming across the quiet bridge. The chilled air carried it to Kechner, who had already turned in their direction at the sound of their engine coming to a stop behind his car.

  “We’re fine here,” he said. His voice sounded soft and almost pleasant. He might have been anyone out for a morning stroll.

  “Who is that you have with you?” Avery asked. When the question was out of her mouth, she took two more steps forward. He was now about six yards away, the rails between them. Another few steps and she’d be able to reach out and grab Heather Ellis.

  Avery could just barely see Heather. She was wearing a hoodie, the hood pulled up. All Avery could see of her was one brown eye, curly brown hair spilling outside of the hood, and a sharp pointed nose.

  “Just a friend,” Kechner said. “I’m helping her. We’ll be done in a minute.”

  “Well, you see, you’ve parked your car on the side of the bridge. And it’s technically illegal for you to be standing over there on the other side of the rails. Not to mention…it’s very dangerous. You need to come back over here to the pavement, okay?”

  Kechner looked at her with an almost childlike expression. He was looking at her as if he thought she was an idiot. She guessed him to be about fifty-five, maybe pushing sixty. He wore a stocking cap, a puffy black coat, and work boots that were planted firmly on the lower rail, the toes hanging out over empty space.

  Kellaway came up beside Avery and gave her a questioning look. You mind? that look seemed to ask. Avery gave a quick, curt nod and Kellaway slowly stepped forward. She did not look nervous but she was certainly a far cry from confident.

  “Mr. Kechner, why have you brought Heather here?” Kellaway asked. As she spoke, she took a small baby step forward and then another—both so small and seemingly insignificant that it appeared as if she had hardly moved.

  “She wants to be here. She—”

  “NO!” Heather Ellis screamed. “No I don’t! Please help me!”

  At the interruption, Kechner placed his hand on Heather’s. For only split second, his hand had been free, his body perched over the water by only leaning against the rail. Avery thought if a strong wind came by, it might have thro
wn him off balance just enough to send them both plunging over, two hundred and fifty feet to the frigid water below.

  Again, Kellaway took another baby step and then one daring large one. She had closed to within less than five yards of them now. Avery took another step forward as well and slightly to the right. If they could end up bookending Kechner and Heather, they might get out of this without anyone dying.

  “Step forward one more time,” Kechner said, “and I’ll push her. I’d be doing her a favor, you know? She needs to be over this fear.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Avery said. “But look…your car is still blocking the lane and we need you to move it.”

  “I’m not stupid,” Kechner said. “I know why you’re here. I suppose you know about Lawnbrook, Costello, and Saunders, too. Don’t you? You want to arrest me?”

  “I don’t know,” Avery said. “We’ll have to talk it all out and see.”

  He knows I’m lying, she thought. He knows he’s in serious trouble and that makes him all the more dangerous.

  “No talking,” he said. “She’ll be my last. And I’ll go with her.”

  He turned and looked at them and Avery saw not a single flicker of fear. He truly thought he was helping his victims, perhaps taking them out of a world where their fear controlled them.

  Several things happened in the three seconds that followed; it all felt as if it were in slow motion but the weight of it made it also feel fluid and uncontrollable.

  Kechner pounded his fist into Heather’s hand and pushed her. Her body went tilting forward. She let out a scream, flailing for a rail that was too far away from her grasp. As she tottered forward, her body giving way to gravity, Kellaway launched herself toward the railing. In doing so, her right arm slammed into Kechner while her left reached out and grabbed Heather. She barely caught her, snagging her by the hood of her sweater. It stopped the forward momentum just enough for Kellaway to pull her backward. The sound of the fabric of her hoodie tearing was impossibly loud.