But even as she tried to convince herself, a memory surfaced from a dark corner of her mind, fragments of an old conversation.
Did I ever tell you I decided to hold on to some of my medical books? Does that symbolize an unwillingness to let go of the past?
Maybe. Or it could be just as simple as you needing a safety net. If the FBI career doesn’t pan out, you can always fall back on medical school. A wry chuckle escaped. Besides, I happen to think everyone should have a copy of Gray’s Anatomy in their reading collection.
Is that your medical opinion?
But of course.
Althea surged to her feet. The bottom dropped out of her stomach, and a cold sweat broke out over her skin.
Just then she heard the soft creak of a floorboard out in the hallway.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
Why didn’t the security alarm go off ?
Another creak. Closer.
She yanked open the bottom desk drawer and grabbed the .32, swinging the weapon around just as a figure from her worst nightmare filled the doorway. His image flashed on her brain like quick snapshots. Black clothing, black ski mask, cold eyes, and a thin slash of a mouth.
Time stood still as she and the intruder recognized each other as predator and prey.
And then he advanced on her. And Althea realized, with a sickening sense of dread, that the way he moved was familiar.
She aimed the pistol at his chest. “Don’t come any closer or I’ll shoot!”
He kept coming. Silent and menacing.
Althea pulled the trigger. There was an empty clicking sound. No bullets!
Behind the mask, her assailant smiled.
And then he rushed her.
As Althea swung her leg in a roundhouse kick, he caught it in midair and bent it backward. Pain shot through her body, and she cried out. She saw a flash of something in his hand. A Taser.
Before she could twist out of his grasp, he jammed it against her neck.
And the world went black.
Chapter 29
Even before Althea opened her eyes and took in her surroundings, she knew where her captor had taken her. Back to the cabin.
To the place where it all began.
But even knowing that, nothing could have prepared her for the macabre scene she would encounter when she groggily lifted her head and looked around. She was in the cellar, in the room where she’d been held prisoner eight years ago. But it had been transformed into something that was horrifyingly familiar, horrifyingly surreal. Parminter had re-created his office from Seattle, complete with the pastel seascapes, cordless floor lamps, glass center table, the brown leather chair where he’d sat, and the suede camel couch where she had reclined and talked through her issues on the second Thursday of every month.
Today was the second Thursday.
Only she wasn’t occupying the couch, Althea realized through the fog clouding her brain. She was seated on a chair, her arms and legs bound with cloth restraints that dug painfully into her flesh.
Arranged beside each other on the couch, their heads slumped limply forward like rag dolls, were Claire Thorndike and Courtney Reese.
Their eyes were closed, and they were unnaturally still.
Althea’s heart thudded, relief mingled with fear. What had he done to them?
And what was he planning to do to all of them?
Fear pulsed through her blood. She swept another glance around the room, taking in more details. When her gaze landed on her copy of Gray’s Anatomy on a small side table, she froze, chilled to the bone.
“Ah, you’re awake. At last.”
Althea looked up as Zachary Parminter entered the room. His dark hair was neatly combed, and he wore a beige cashmere sweater over gray wool slacks, looking as if he were merely arriving for one of their monthly therapy sessions.
“What do you think?” he asked as he gestured around the room, inordinately pleased with himself. “I think I captured it rather well, don’t you? We could be back in Seattle.”
Althea stared at him as he came toward her, a soft, intimate smile on his face that curdled her stomach.
He stopped in front of her, and she instinctively tensed as he leaned down, whispering in her ear, “I’ve missed you.”
She swallowed and closed her eyes as he brushed his lips across her neck. Her skin crawled, but she forced herself not to react, even when she felt him shudder with arousal.
“So beautiful,” he murmured. “From the moment you walked into my office that day, I knew you were special. And through the years, after all the patients I’ve counseled and comforted, there’s been no one but you, Althea. You have no idea how many times I dreamed of this moment. Having you here, in this Sacred Room, where your innocence was lost. Every time you were lying on my couch, baring your wounded soul to me, I wondered how you would react if you knew the thoughts I was having. Just imagining your reaction thrilled me even more.”
Althea kept her eyes closed, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing how sickened she was, how utterly terrified. Could she have seen a sign, a clue, some foreshadowing of this? she wondered. No, it was impossible. No sane person could have imagined the madness, the depravity, that infected Zachary Parminter.
As he drew back from her with a low chuckle, she opened her eyes to watch him sit down in the leather chair facing her.
“What do you want?” she whispered.
He laughed softly, the sound razoring along her nerve endings. “It’s not just what I want, Althea. It’s what we both want.”
As she watched, tense and wary, he removed a .32-caliber pistol from under his chair and slowly set it on the glass center table. Althea froze, realizing it was her pistol.
He smiled, seeing the stunned recognition in her eyes. “You should have seen the look on your face when you pulled the trigger and realized the gun wasn’t loaded. It was priceless. Of course, you had no way of knowing that I had already removed the bullets.” His smile turned sinister. “I’ve been watching you, Althea. Watching your every move. When I realized you don’t keep your curtains open late at night, I knew I had to find another way to keep a close eye on you. So I planted some strategically hidden video cameras in your apartment. That’s how I knew you were ready for me tonight. Like a good little investigator, you had finally solved the puzzle.”
Althea stared at him, her insides quaking with fear and a terrible sense of violation. “H-How did you get inside my apartment?”
He chuckled. “With a key, of course. One night I waited until the front desk attendant stepped away from his station to use the bathroom, which he did every night like clockwork. I had even timed how long he took—just under four minutes. The keys to every unit in the building are kept in a locked compartment beneath the security desk. If a tenant gets locked out of their apartment, all they have to do is show ID and sign a sheet, and a spare key is temporarily provided to them. It happened rather frequently, I noticed. I knew the attendant would eventually get careless and forget to lock the cabinet, or he would leave the key dangling in the lock. And I was right. Less than two days later, I was able to make a copy of your key.” Parminter shook his head, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. “You really should move into a more secure building, Althea. Oh, but wait. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
Althea’s heart jammed at the base of her throat. Her worst fear had been confirmed. He was going to kill her.
Her gaze swung to the silent, unmoving figures on the couch. Claire and Courtney had not stirred once. Something was terribly wrong.
“What have you done to them?” Althea demanded, her voice sharp with panic.
Following the direction of her alarmed gaze, Parminter smiled. “Ah, yes. Courtney and Claire. The mentor and her protégée. Of course, Courtney was never as good a mentor to Claire as Professor Maxwell was to you. After all, she did nothing to stop young Claire from inviting a strange man over to her house while her parents were away. And, shame on the doctor, he actually s
howed up for the date.” He clucked his tongue in disapproval, then chuckled sardonically. “It’s a good thing I had already taken Claire. God only knows what he would have done to her.”
Althea was too concerned about the unconscious women on the couch to fully register the fact that James Odem had, indeed, been at the Thorndike estate on the night of Claire’s disappearance.
“What did you give to Claire and Courtney?”
Again Parminter smiled softly. “I gave them a little cocktail, so that you and I could have a little time alone first. We have a lot of catching up to do, Althea. We haven’t seen each other since your final session with me a month ago. It was so bittersweet, but I knew we would be reunited soon. I even arrived here in town before you did just to get everything prepared.”
As he spoke, Althea began tugging at her restraints—carefully, so he wouldn’t notice. But it was no use. They were too tight. She could not escape. There was no way for her to get to the .32 lying just out of reach on the table, taunting her.
She was doomed.
And so were Claire and Courtney.
“What are you going to do?” she asked faintly.
“Wrong again, Althea. It’s what you’re going to do.”
She stared at him uncomprehendingly.
“You’ve never been the same since you were kidnapped eight years ago,” he calmly explained. “You were haunted by dreams about your ordeal, terrifying nightmares that coalesced into scenes of unspeakable violence. You were afraid that you had become as unbalanced as the monster who once abducted you. You were worried that you might snap one day and hurt someone.” He paused. “At least, that’s what I’m going to tell the police when they ask me about your mental stability. I’m going to waive my right to doctor–patient confidentiality and tell them that in my professional opinion, you had never quite recovered from the trauma you experienced. I’m going to tell them that I believe your psychosis led you to reenact your own abduction. You chose Courtney Reese because you found out she was having an affair with your beloved uncle. And once you learned about her friendship with Claire Thorndike, you saw it as a sign. They had almost the same relationship as you and Imani Maxwell. It was the perfect setup. And because your uncle had betrayed your trust, you planted the journal entry at Courtney’s apartment, just to cause him a little pain and suffering.”
Althea stared at him with horror and revulsion. “No one will believe that,” she whispered.
His lips curved in a small, feral smile. “Just as no one believes your uncle had an affair with Courtney, right?”
Her stomach plummeted. “You bastard! You can’t do this. I trusted you!”
“I know,” he sighed, with a look of deep satisfaction. “Which is what makes this that much sweeter. Your trust. Your blind faith in me. You can’t imagine how intoxicating that is, Althea. To be trusted implicitly simply because I hold a degree, a license that qualifies me to probe human minds.”
“You won’t get away with this,” Althea said with more confidence than she felt.
He laughed softly. “Oh, but I will. You see, the day after your final session with me, I left for my cabin at Lake Tahoe, where, for the last month, I have been enjoying a long-overdue sabbatical. I’ve even phoned the office a few times to describe the beauty of the lake, the tranquility of my surroundings, the breathtaking sunrises. No one has any reason to suspect I’m anywhere other than where I said I would be.”
Althea stared at him, chilled by the level of premeditation, the meticulous planning. And then a thought struck her.
“You’re forgetting one thing,” she said scornfully.
He looked at her, an amused brow lifted.
“I have an alibi for the nights Claire and Courtney were abducted. I was with Damien Wade.”
Fury hardened Parminter’s eyes. “I know where you were and what you were doing, whore,” he spat contemptuously. “That’s why you needed an accomplice.”
Althea felt a chill of foreboding. “Who?” she asked faintly.
“Joshua Reed. His father knows your uncle. In fact, his father was one of Louis Pritchard’s biggest campaign contributors. So that’s your connection to Josh. And once the poor boy had served his purpose, you killed him.”
As comprehension dawned, the blood drained from Althea’s head. “You . . . you killed Josh?”
He smirked. “No, Althea. You did.”
Grief and rage swept through her. “You son of a bitch! What kind of sick monster are you?”
Chuckling softly, he removed a short needle and syringe from the front pocket of his sweater. “No more small talk, Althea. It’s time to wake our guests. It’s time for the Final Act.”
Terror and panic gripped her. “No!” she shouted.
As he rose and walked over to the couch, her mind raced, frantically thinking of ways to free herself and Claire and Courtney. After surviving her harrowing ordeal at the hand of Anthony Yusef, she’d vowed never again to be a victim. She’d be damned if she let this man—this man she’d trusted and confided in—send her back into the abyss.
“I’m going to enjoy watching you kill Claire and Courtney before you turn the gun on yourself,” Parminter murmured as he tapped the syringe. “I’ve dreamed of nothing else for weeks. I know you thought you had more time to solve this case, since you went missing for a month. But unfortunately, I’m on a tight schedule. I’m due back at work in two weeks, you see. And who knows? Maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll find another Althea.”
As he leaned toward Claire, Althea cried out, “Wait!”
He paused and looked at her.
She licked her dry lips. “Part of what you said about me was right. I have been having terrible nightmares about the past, which I’ve told you about. It seems that no matter what I do, I-I just can’t shake the memories. So maybe in a way you’re actually doing me a favor. Maybe it’s time for me to be put out of my misery once and for all.”
He stared at her, his dark eyes narrowing suspiciously.
Swallowing her fear and revulsion, Althea gave him a sultry, inviting smile. “But before we do this, there’s something else I’ve been fantasizing about for a long time, something I never told you. I don’t know if you could tell, but I’ve always been attracted to you, Dr. Parminter. Physically and intellectually. And you know me better than anyone. Sometimes during our sessions, I used to think about what it would be like to kiss you, to feel your hands all over me. To make love to you right there in your office.” She feigned an embarrassed chuckle. “I know that’s wrong. You were my therapist, not my lover. But now, after hearing what you said about me being special, I realize you must have been feeling the same way. You knew the moment we met that fate had brought us together. I wish we hadn’t waited this long to express our feelings to each other.”
He stared at her, a solitary muscle ticking in his jaw.
“Why don’t you let Claire and Courtney rest awhile longer?” she murmured coaxingly. “I mean, surely you didn’t go to all this trouble not to have me at least once. That makes no sense at all.”
He hesitated, temptation flaring in his eyes.
Please take the bait! Please take the bait!
He did.
As he came toward her, Althea nearly sobbed with relief.
She eyed him seductively as he knelt in front of her. “Let’s pretend we’re back in your office in Seattle,” she purred. “We can make love on the couch. Just move Claire and Courtney out of the way.”
Slowly he began loosening the restraints around her ankles. Her heart pounded, adrenaline surging through her veins. Once she was free, she’d have only one shot at the weapon on the table. She’d have to make the most of the opportunity.
But Parminter had suddenly paused in his task. Fearing that he’d changed his mind about accepting her offer, Althea murmured silkily, “I want to touch you. Will you let me touch you?”
He lifted his head and looked at her. And she saw the moment that he came back to his senses. His gaze hardened.
He stood, his fists clenching at his sides.
Not wasting a second, Althea raised her legs and kicked at his chest as hard as she could. She connected with a satisfying thud, sending him staggering back with a surprised grunt of pain. Throwing all her force at him, Althea launched herself forward, chair and all. He didn’t have a chance to react before she barreled into him, knocking him backward. Glass shattered as they both crashed into the center table.
“Bitch!” Parminter roared, enraged.
He reached up, slamming his fist into Althea’s cheek. Pain erupted in her skull. Lights exploded behind her eyes. The taste of blood bloomed in her mouth.
He shoved her aside roughly and lurched to his feet. Another burst of pain ricocheted through her as she landed hard on her side, shards of glass penetrating her clothes to stab her skin. Gritting her teeth against the agony, she spied the .32 on the floor nearby, but with her arms still restrained behind the chair, there was nothing she could do.
And he knew it, too.
Slowly, deliberately, he bent down and picked up the gun. Calmly wiping a smear of blood from his mouth, he stuffed the .32 into the front waistband of his slacks. “I applaud your effort, Althea,” he sneered. “But I’m afraid it won’t be that easy to alter the course of your fate. In fact, it’s impossible.”
Althea stared into his cruelly smiling face and knew that she’d run out of time.
He came toward her and reached down to lift her upright in the chair.
“FBI! Freeze!”
Althea let out a gasp of relief as she looked past her tormenter and saw Damien standing in the doorway, his weapon drawn and aimed at Parminter’s back.
Parminter paused, a look of shock and confusion sweeping across his face. His gaze met Althea’s, and she shivered at the cold, calculating gleam in his eyes. Suddenly he whipped the .32 from his waistband and pointed it at her temple.
She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for death.
No One But You Page 36