Seven Bridges

by Ciana Stone

  -Albert Einstein

  Chapter Sixteen

  Quantico, Virginia

  Izzi had a bit of trouble focusing on what she was doing, with agents watching her pack. While she knew they were present because the house was now part of an investigation, being watched made her slightly uncomfortable. Nonetheless, they needed to leave. Neither she or Gib had yet had a chance to unpack what they're returned with today.

  She wasn't afraid, just a bit uncomfortable and a little edgy. That wasn't attributable to the agent, but the man who'd violated Gib's home. Izzi added some density to her shields, as she liked to call the mental screen she used to filter out the energy of others. The welcome they'd received upon returning home was something that carried significant weight.

  Things had jumped to an entirely new level. With this move, her monster had announced himself to the entire law enforcement world. He was, without revealing himself, not only claiming credit but delivering a threat– or perhaps in his mind, a reminder and a promise.

  He said he was changing the game – that it was his game. And he'd been clear about his goals.

  What puzzled Izzi was that after the grandiose moves earlier today, why was her monster silent? That surprised her. She'd expected to be tormented, trying to keep him blocked. But the opposite was true. She couldn't sense him at all. She'd been sending out tendrils of energy for over an hour now, searching. Inviting. And there was no answer to her call.

  Something had happened.

  The thought appeared as the companion to another feeling, something beneath the conscious layers. He was not in control. Was that what she felt? With her curiousity heightened, she added more energy to her efforts, letting her body go through the familiar motions of preparing to leave.

  What she wouldn't be taking with her, Izzi placed lin the laundry room hamper. Sooner or later, they would return, and she'd do laundry. Until then, it wasn't worth concern.

  Gib walked into the room. "Are you about ready?"

  "I am. And I packed for you," she gestured to the open suitcase on the bed. "You might want to check."

  "I'm sure it will be fine. We should be back here in forty-eight hours, tops."

  "Okay," she grabbed the handle of her luggage as he zipped his. "Should I call and book us a room at a nearby hotel?"

  "Already taken care of. We'll check in later. Right now, the team is assembling at headquarters, so we need to get over there."

  "Fine."

  She wasn't surprised the team wanted to huddle, so to speak. Their leader had been threatened, however slight, and they were ready to circle the wagons and come up with a plan of action.

  Her thoughts were along those lines, and she could tell Gib was caught up thinking about what happened because neither of them had more than a dozen words to say on the drive to Quantico. The closer they got, the stronger a strange dread grew inside her. By the time Gib parked his car, she felt a bit like a person who already knew the news was bad but was waiting to have it confirmed.

  Once inside, in the elevator, she hugged Gib. "When this is all done…"

  She could tell he knew what she meant when he hugged her tight, then kissed the top of her head. "Yes, when all this is done, then it's you and me."

  "I can't wait." She pulled back and looked at him, seeing his sincerity and his love for her. "You know, it's all I ever really wanted," she admitted.

  "Same here." He gave her a quick kiss as the elevator doors opened.

  The team was assembled in the conference room. "Talk to me," Gib said the moment they entered. Dennis was on the phone and raised his free hand, with his index finger extended to indicate he was almost finished.

  Gib and Izzi headed for the coffee maker. "The forensic team at your house hasn't found anything other than the medal and the message on the glass," Galen said. "Which was written with wax pencil. They'll know more after analysis. The blood on the map appears to be human blood, but again, tests will confirm."

  "Any prints?"

  "Not a one."

  Izzy poured Gib a cup, and just as she handed it to him, Dennis finished his call. "That was the County Sheriff's Department in Tennessee. The map left at your house was no hoax. There was a murder sometime between yesterday afternoon at half-past three when Melinda Jenkins met her children, twins, Adam and Alexandra at the bus stop, and today at noon when Roger Jenkins, the estranged husband, returned from a three-day trip and stopped to drop off presents for the kids.

  "It appears to be the work of the Seven Bridges killer. A twenty-seven-year-old divorcee with two children, a boy, age nine, and a girl, age seven. The boy was found with the mother at the scene. Both dead. The mother's tongue and heart were removed. The girl is missing."

  The moment the words of his last sentence had been spoken, Izzi's hand shook so bad she overfilled her cup, spilling hot coffee on her hand. Oh, my God, he has a child. She turned, putting her back to the room, managed to set the cup on the counter, and grab a handful of paper napkins. Only Gib noticed. He tugged on her sleeve, and she whispered. "I'm okay," so he turned his attention back to Dennis.

  Twenty minutes later, Gib gave the wheel's up order as two hours. The team quickly gathered their belongings and left. They'd discuss the case more on the flight. Gib waited until they were alone then sat beside her. "What's wrong?"

  "The girl."

  "The missing girl? What about her?"

  "He'll use her against us."

  "How do you know? Have you picked up something from him?"

  "No. I just …" she paused before she could say that she knew. That wasn't true. She feared. "What if he tries to use her against us? Or as a bargaining chip? What if–"

  "The what-ifs will drive you mad, honey, so stop and let's just focus on trying to find her."

  "You know he's nowhere near that scene now."

  "He might be. He was watching the Cheerleader shooter and killed her just minutes before we arrived. He might be tempted to try and observe us again."

  "Maybe. But still, what about that little girl, Gib? What if he– what if he's doing to her what he did to me? Or worse?"

  "You can't get caught up in that now, Iz. It won't help her or us."

  "Then, what will?"

  "I don't know, but we'll figure it out. For now, let's wait until we can visit the scene. Perhaps, if what you said is on track, he'll contact you, or will have left something for us that will indicate what his next move might be."

  "Okay," Izzi didn't think that was much of a plan at all, but it wasn't time to challenge Gib's authority. Besides, he might have a point. Her monster just might have left a clue for her, something no one but her would notice.

  Where are you?

  She'd never reached out to him before and wouldn't know, but she did find it more than a bit curious that he'd not responded. He loved to flaunt how connected he was to her, how he could sense her.

  Which prompted her to try again. We're coming for you. Are you ready?

  Izzi was certain that would provoke a response. The fact that it didn't worried her far more than if it had.

  *****

  He paced the length of the porch and back again, ignoring the growing darkness, aware only of the howls and screams coming from the basement. For a moment, he succumbed and clamped his hands over his ears, trying to mask the sounds. If she didn't stop, it was going to wear him down, erode his control, and then…he didn't want to consider the possibilities. He wanted to keep her. She was perfect– or would be if she would stop that horrible noise.

  This is what happens when you unilaterally make a change to the plan. Once it's made, you stick to it. Do you understand?

  God he hated being treated like a mental inferior. Yes, he understood. It's not like he hadn't heard this same shit his whole life. Do it my way. You must do it the way we planned.

  "We planned," he murmured. When had it become this way? Them being separate but together? One always present and listening and one, him, who only heard when his other half wanted h
im to. When had his opinion not mattered? When had they decided he would just do what the other side of him ordered?

  He had just about reached the end of his patience on never being the boss. It was, after all, his handiwork when it came time to torture and kill. His other half didn't have the stomach to do it. Or maybe he was too good to bloody his own hands.

  Over the last few years, it had felt more and more like that. His other self wanted the thrill, needed to quench his thirst for their deaths, but wasn't man enough to wield the knife himself. Why was that? Had it always been that way, or had it just taken him this long to see it?

  Is that what's important right now?

  God, how he hated to answer. He put it off for several minutes until the screams and howls had him clenching his fists, marching back and forth like an animal in a cage. Waiting for the irritation to make him explode into action.

  I don't know what's important. What do you want me to do? Kill her? You know that's not why I took her. She's going to be part of our family. She and Isabelle. With them, we'll be complete.

  The voice that responded sounded both sad and angry, as if tired of having the same argument over and again. That wasn't the way we planned to do it.

  He'd forgotten that. Wasn't that strange? It had been the goal for so long. First Isabelle, and then a child they could call their own.

  That's what they wanted, him and his other side. He hadn't meant to mess up the plan. He hadn't really planned on taking the girl. Until she challenged him. Called him a coward. Only a coward would tie up a little kid. That's what she said. Even after he blinded her. She still mocked him.

  That's when he knew.

  She was special. Like Isabelle.

  And being special, she would be the perfect child for them. He and Isabelle would love Alexandra and raise her to be like them.

  Special and smart.

  He could see that future. See Isabelle looking at him with love shining in her eyes. See Isabelle looking at him in passion, stained with the blood of their victim. He'd screw her in the blood. Let it cover them like a sweet balm as he took his fill of her.

  You won't do anything with anyone if I can't figure a way out of this mess you've created.

  Anger rose, like the first air bubbles as liquid starts to boil. He told himself to hold it together. Do like he'd been taught. Take ten seconds. Just ten. And think about what had brought him to this moment and what his next move should be.

  Despite being resentful at being made to feel inferior, he couldn't fight a lifetime of habit. He stopped and looked at what had taken place. And suddenly, he saw how his actions had thrown the plan out of whack. They were supposed to have Isabelle, first.

  "What do we do?" he stopped pacing.

  You don't do anything but stay put. Gag the child if you must. I will be with you as soon as possible. Right now, I have other things to oversee.

  "I could do that, and you could be here-"

  It's your mess, your screw-up. You'll do as I say, and when I see you, we will figure it out. Until then, stick to the plan.

  "Yes. Stick to the plan."

  Strangely, he was okay with that. This is how things worked best. How had he forgotten? Don't try to do all the figuring out of things. He can do that. It's where he's handy. You stick to what you do best.

  Causing pain and death.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Clarksville, Tennessee

  Did you ever see a lassie,

  A lassie, a lassie,

  Did you ever see a lassie,

  Go this way and that?

  Go this way and that way,

  Go this way and that way,

  Did you ever see a lassie,

  Go this way and that?

  Izzi stumbled and might well have ended up on face in the muddy yard if Leo hadn't caught her. "Hey, are you okay?"

  "Sorry," she didn't look at him for fear he'd see the lie. Not to mention the fact, it was taking all her self-control to keep from throwing up. "Just caught my toe."

  "You're sure?"

  "Yes, fine. Go on. I'm right behind you."

  "Okay," he released her and continued toward the house. The entire perimeter of the property was cordoned off with crime scene tape. Local law enforcement had officers present to prevent nosey civilians from gaining access. The forensic and investigative teams from the State of Tennessee were busy going over and documenting the crime scene inch-by-inch.

  Izzi reached for the hood of the car and steadied herself. She wanted to run and hide, find somewhere safe and huddle up against what had just happened. The was a whole new kind of attack, one she could never have prepared herself .

  Nausea bubbled, threatening to rise and her skin felt uncomfortably moist and hot. Izzi quickly tossed her shoulder bag onto the roof of the SUV and removed her coat. Cold air made her shiver, but was a welcome respite as it helped to dissipate the nausea.

  "You look like you just saw a ghost."

  Izzi looked to her left to see Galen walking around the front of the vehicle. "What gave me away? The white eyes?"

  "Very cute, but you're not fooling me. I saw you. You were fine and then suddenly your head jerked up like someone had called your name and that's when you stumbled. Only you didn't look around like most people. You just looked – on alert. So, what's up?"

  "Having never been the object of your observation – or at least privy to your impressions, I have to say I'm impressed." That was no lie. He had pretty much described what happened when she heard her monster sing. Even now it gave rise to more goosebumps.

  "Isabelle, you don't look well," Galen didn't ask permission to take her arm, he placed his left hand on her back, took hold of her right arm with his free hand and turned her back in the direction of the SUV's doors.

  Izzi felt a wave of something far more potent than cold air appear around her. Soothing and quiet, it was like stepping into a protective bubble. The relief was so great, she literally sagged against him.

  "It's okay, I've got you," he supported her, opened the door and guided her onto the seat.

  That feeling of protection vanished the moment he no longer had physical contact with her. Izzi almost reached for him, but at that moment, it happened again. The song. And as he sang the words, she was catapulted back in time. To that night.

  1995

  Isabelle retched until there was nothing left in her stomach, and then she dry heaved over and again.

  His laughter in her ear made the nightmare more terrifying.If she could only close her eyes, stop having to see it. Poor Donny. His screams had turned to sounds like a wounded animal, whimpers and moans.

  She almost opened her mouth to beg, but something inside wouldn't allow it. Some part of herself she didn't even know existed, rose up and refused to make another sound, even though she was so scared she was sure her heart would explode.

  Did you ever see a lassie,

  A lassie, a lassie,

  Did you ever see a lassie,

  Go this way and that?

  Go this way and that way,

  Go this way and that way,

  Did you ever see a lassie,

  Go this way and that?

  All the while he held her, singing into her ear, the Other laughed and danced. He held her mother around the waist with her back to him, which gave Isabelle full view of her mother's ravaged face and body.

  He moved so that her mother's head flopped from side-to-side, and her arms flapped about. It was kind of how Isabelle played with her stuffed animals when she made them move in her make-believe world.

  Only now, her mom was in the make-believe of the man in black.

  But it wasn't make-believe. It was real.

  Izzi wanted more than anything for it not to be. "Please make it go away." She bit her lip the moment the words escaped.

  "You don't want to see it?" Her tormenter's voice whispered.

  "No."

  "Well, I think we can take care of that. Can't we?"

  The man in bl
ack cast her mother aside. Isabelle couldn't stop the tears, but she bit down hard on the lip to keep from making a sound. That's when the man in black stooped down and picked up her mother's heart from the floor where he'd dropped it.

  He smiled, grabbed the knife and walked over in front of her. "Your mother's heart. Look. It's the last thing you'll ever see."

  Then he smeared the bloody heart all over her face and neck and arms. Finally, he tossed it aside and came at her with the knife. At the first cut, she heard herself. The same sounds mother had made were now coming from her.

  The pain didn't end when the cutting stopped. Isabelle twisted in the grip of her captor, struggling to break free. Not because she thought she could escape. How could she? Her feet and hands were tied. And now she was blind.

  Would she soon be dead?

  Izzi jerked back to reality to find Galen watching her. "What's going on?" he asked.

  "I'm not sure." That wasn't a lie. What she'd just experienced seemed genuine, but she couldn't be sure. She'd never remembered the song before, or the man in black dancing with her mother's body. So, what just happened here? Was there more than one killer? If so, why had she not remembered? Either she'd just reclaimed a forgotten memory, or someone had tried to put a memory into her head.

  She'd bet on the first.

  Izzi had always been convinced there were things about that night she'd forgotten. Whether her loss of memory was due to trauma or coercion from her monster, she didn't know. Maybe the how wasn't as important as the why. If she'd been made to forget, that would seem to indicate there was something about specific moments of that night that held the key to knowledge about her monster he didn't want to be known.

  So, what significance did a child's song have to what happened?

  "Isabelle?"

  "What? Oh, sorry. I just – never mind it's not important." She looked around and saw Gib huddled with a group of men on the front porch of the house.

  "What's going on?"

  To his credit, Galen let the moment slide and answered her question. "The Governor of Tennessee has already gone public to say the folks in Mississippi were wrong. The Seven Bridges Killer is not dead. Which means the case isn't closed."