Payback Princess (Lost Daughter of a Serial Killer Book 2)

by C. M. Stunich

  Tess looks askance at me, like she’s not sure where I’m coming from with this. Her guilt must win out though because after a moment of thought, she decides to answer.

  “First kiss?” she asks, thinking on the subject for a moment. “Well, not that I want to encourage this sort of behavior or anything, but Justin and I used to sneak into the prop room of the theater to make out.” Tess gives a mischievous little smile at the memory and then frowns hard.

  Meanwhile, there I sit, hyperventilating and wondering if we’ve just stumbled on the key to finding Parrish.

  Places.

  Places that matter to Tess and Justin, specifically.

  “As for the hospital you were born in, it was actually a birthing center called Medina Mothers and Infants. I had a midwife and a water birth.” This time, when she smiles, it’s much more real than when she was reminiscing about Justin. “I love that you’re asking me these questions actually. In the beginning, I dreaded it. But now, my only regret is that we can’t have this conversation under more ideal circumstances.”

  She wants to talk about the reasons why I shouldn’t go with Justin.

  And I’m going to have to sit here and listen to all those very valid reasons and then still insist that I go with him. After rejecting Tess, after rejecting this easy but sanitized life she was offering, only to embrace a man that I’ll have been warned about in advance.

  Not a good look for me.

  Once again, Justin has carefully arranged everything so that I look like the bad guy. So that my relationships with everyone around me suffer and fray. Fuuuuck.

  Also, I need more places. A diner, a theatre, and a midwifery center will not solve this puzzle. Likely, it’s going to be something more personal, much harder to dig out of Tess. Say, the first place they had sex. Or the place where I was conceived. The place they were married.

  I need all of that info, and I need it now.

  “Dakota, when I first started seeing Justin, he was attentive and kind. He lavished me with gifts and attention. But over time—particularly after we were married—he became abusive. In small ways at first, like controlling where I went or what friends I was allowed to hang out with. Later, the abuse became physical. He hit me. He … he …” She trails off and puts a hand to her throat, staring down at the floor with glassy eyes. My own throat closes up, and I feel like I could scream.

  I don’t want to go to lunch with the bastard tomorrow. I really don’t want to acknowledge that we share DNA. But I have to. I have to make hard choices here.

  “He raped me. Marital rape is a real thing, you know?” she says, as if she needs to justify that or explain herself to me.

  “I know that it is,” I whisper, and then I find myself reaching out and putting a hand on her arm. “I believe you.”

  She sags slightly in relief, and then covers my hand with her own.

  “When you were a baby, he would jerk you around so roughly that you had bruises. Dakota, I left him because he was turning into a monster before my very eyes.” Tess turns fully around to look me in the face, clasping my outstretched hand in both of hers. “He was escalating every single day. He gave me little choice.”

  Little choice.

  A phrase I’ve been uttering myself so much as of late.

  I bite my lower lip, think about Maxx, despise myself yet again for doing so.

  “Maybe he’s changed?” I offer up, choking on the words, hating myself for that, too. Seems to be one of Justin’s tactics here, to make me hate myself. It’s working, too, even though I know he’s doing it, and I hate that, too. I hate it so goddamn much. “I didn’t give you a chance when we first met. Don’t I owe him an opportunity to show me his true colors?”

  I feel disgusting even saying that. But the directive was clear: Tell them you want to come with me. Beg them. Scream. Do whatever you have to do.

  “He hasn’t changed a bit,” Tess says with a barking laugh. “Using Parrish’s disappearance to market his new app? Barging in here with a court order from a buddy of his. He’s exactly the same. Worse, actually, because he had to fall and crawl his way back to the top.” She narrows her eyes, staring down at the comforter instead of my face. “He was arrested for embezzlement, stripped of his position in his own company. When I took him to court for a divorce and then later, a restraining order, word got around town. He was driven out of Medina with pitchforks, broke and alone. My very last act as his wife was to have him committed, but it didn’t last long. He’s a very convincing actor.” She lifts her dark gaze up to mine, and my breath catches.

  She’s telling me the truth about a lot of things … but she’s also lying.

  I can sense it; I can feel it.

  I wet my lips as she squeezes my hand in desperation, unintentionally digging her nails into my skin.

  “I can’t stop you from going with him. He has a court order. He … appears to have remade a lot of the powerful friends he used to have back in the day. But if you tell him no, if we go to court and you tell the judge that you want to stay with me, we might be able to mitigate some of the damage.”

  Fuck.

  This is … this is awful. I feel like I might vomit, to be honest.

  “Tell me more,” I say instead, trying to change tactics. “Tell me … where you had your first date.”

  Tess gives me a strange look, but she’s so desperate to convince me that she finally gives in.

  “Our first date … well, he started pursuing me at school and at the diner. But as for an actual date? I believe it was the winery.”

  “The winery?!” I choke out, sitting up straight, heart thundering. “Which winery?”

  Again, I get a very confused look in response to my outburst. I have absolutely zero chill apparently. With a concerted effort, I make myself relax. Tess just admitted that Justin hurt her, that he hurt me, that he … raped her. Here I am inquiring about the place they had their first date?

  I’m a fucking monster.

  Just like he is.

  “Um. Secret Cache is the name of it, I believe,” she offers gently, as if she’s struggling to understand my motivations but wants to believe the best of me. She and I clearly have our issues. We do not like each other on a basic level, but there really is a spark here, something that I could build on.

  If only I didn’t have to douse it with cold water right now.

  The winery is a huge clue. But still, I feel it’s too obvious. I need more. But how far can I push right now?

  Tess releases my hand and turns away again; I sense that this conversation is coming to an end. After all, she has a missing child to look for.

  “If you want to go with him, I truly can’t stop you, but Dakota.” She looks back at me and once again uses the correct name. Why does she always do this, use my name when it matters most? Why can’t she call me Mia right now, so that this hurts a little less? “I’d hate for you to find out yourself what a horrible man he can be.”

  “I’ll … I’ll think on it,” I say, but even that’s a lie. I won’t think on it. I’ll go. For Parrish.

  The sheer look of disappointment on Tess’ face staggers me. God, Parrish was so right about this. So damn right.

  “Well, if you have anymore questions …” she starts, heaving a tired sigh and standing up.

  “I’d love to know all the places that were special to you back then. It might … it’ll help me to understand your relationship better.”

  Tess blinks down at me, frowning heavily.

  “This entire town is peppered with our memories,” she admits reluctantly. “The cemetery where my grandmother is buried, the hotel we spent our wedding night in, the house he bought for me.”

  Vague locations, but all possible clues. A cemetery … what if it isn’t a wine cellar we’re looking for, but a tomb? I shiver at the thought. Wouldn’t that be tragic, if Justin staged that stone room to look like a wine cellar when, in fact, it isn’t at all? A fancy hotel could have a wine cellar, as could a house.

&
nbsp; These are all options.

  I just need to know which cemetery, which hotel, and which freaking house.

  I have pretty good social graces though, and I can tell that asking those questions right now won’t win me anything but more disturbing looks from Tess. She isn’t going to answer if I push anymore today.

  Might have to do some internet sleuthing. How many cemeteries can there be in or around Medina? Hotels? It’s a pretty small area. As far as houses go, that’s a matter of public record, right? Justin’s name might be scrubbed from the internet, but surely there are records on the house purchase somewhere out there. The county tax assessor’s office, the county recorder, or city hall maybe?

  “Thank you,” I tell her honestly, and that, at least, seems to soften her a tad. She touches her hand to my head gently.

  “Please, Dakota. I know we’ve had trouble getting along thus far, but with Parrish missing, I need some help. I can only be so strong on my own.” She drops her hand to her side before leaving and closing my bedroom door softly behind her.

  I almost start crying.

  How can I do this to that woman? How can I hurt her by leaving with a man who mistreated her so badly?

  With a growl, I turn off the recording on my phone and put my face in my hands for a minute.

  But only for a minute.

  The internet, and its endless possibilities for answers, awaits.

  Maxx and Chasm video chat me a short time later, prowling around the abandoned diner together. It’s actually Maxx who grabs one of the boards on the rear window and yanks it off like it’s nothing, chucking the piece aside before climbing through.

  “Told ya he was weird at times,” Chasm murmurs, following after with his phone in hand. The inside of the diner is relatively free of debris, set up with laminate-topped tables and red booths with holes and tears in the faux leather coverings. Here and there, a silver napkin dispenser sits, a pair of salt and pepper shakers, a small stack of dirty plates. But that’s about it.

  There’s no cellar, nothing even remotely like a cellar. The place is one floor, relatively small, and completely inconspicuous.

  “Another dead end,” X remarks, hands on his hips. He’s wearing jeans and a white tank that shows off every muscle in his shoulders, chest, and arms. It’s absurdly distracting. Also, it makes me think of Maxine. This is her man, not mine. Hers to ogle, hers to talk to, hers to snuggle. Even though it was never my intention, I’ve taken her away from him.

  The guilt is crushing, almost suffocating.

  “Mr. Volli’s place then?” Chasm suggests, and Maxx nods.

  “You need to be extremely careful over there,” I warn them, and Chas gives me a smirk in response.

  “Worried about me, Little Sister?” he teases, but I’m not playing around here.

  “Yes. I’m terrified actually. For both of you.” I sigh and shove my fraying braid over one shoulder. “I wish I could be there.”

  “I’m supremely relieved that you’re not,” X interrupts, kicking a random pinecone across the floor. “Apparently, Mr. Volli lives in a three bed, two bath rambler on Tenth Street. He paid almost two million for it a few months ago. Doesn’t that seem odd, that a teacher—even a Whitehall teacher—can afford a house for two mil?”

  I wish fervently that I had the address for the house Tess mentioned so that I could look it up online. Might not give me all the details I need, but it would help.

  At the beginning of the video call, I filled the boys in as quickly as I could on the things I learned from Tess.

  The theatre was a huge clue. The winery, too. I feel like this ‘place’ idea is really something.

  If only I could place the skeleton key, maybe match it to one of those locations?

  “Maybe Justin bought it for him?” Chasm responds, his voice a caustic mess. “Fuck, I hate that man. I’ve never hated anyone the way I hate him. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to sock that bitch in the face?”

  X cringes a bit, ruffling up his dark hair. It’s a similar tone of brown to Parrish’s, but without the sun-bleached bits. Also, it’s about three shades darker, remarkably similar to my natural hair color. To Maxine’s natural hair color.

  I give a small huff to clear my head.

  “No, I shouldn’t have done that,” Maxx reiterates, narrowing his eyes slightly at the pinecone before he looks back up at the phone screen, his intelligent gaze slicing right through and straight into me. “But I’ll make up for it, whatever I have to do. If there are going to be consequences for that, they should fall on me.”

  “Enough with your dark knight/white knight bullshit,” Chasm interrupts. “My dad is breathing down my neck.” He subconsciously reaches up with the hand that isn’t holding the phone to prod at the spot beside his mouth where his lip ring is supposed to go. It’s so smooth and perfect, you never would know he had a piercing at all. Paired with his long-sleeved black and red sweater, black slacks, and sprayed black hair, he looks like the perfect upstanding Whitehall student. “We need to get over there and get this done.”

  “We won’t call you while we’re there,” Maxx tells me, and I frown. “We won’t be able to talk freely anyway. If there’s something to take note of, we’ll message you. Otherwise, I should be home within a few hours.”

  “At least text me right when you get there, and right when you leave,” I offer, and X nods.

  “Will do,” Chasm replies, giving me a slight smile before he ends the call.

  I tap the phone against my hand before diving back into my research.

  The closest cemeteries appear to be in Bellevue or Kirkland, so not exactly the easiest thing to pin down. I try searching for Gabbi Patterson burial location next. No results. Patterson might not be her last name. Tess has never mentioned her parents like, at all. But she might still have had one of their last names. Again, I don’t know if Gabbi was Tess’ mother’s mother or her father’s mother.

  Ugh.

  If only I could talk to Tess a little bit more, this would be a million times easier. I try searching for other things about Tess, to see if there are any biographies or articles online that mention anything relevant. I mean, there are tons of hits for Tess Vanguard, but nothing of interest.

  Eventually, I give up that line of searching and focus on hotels.

  I figure I’m searching for a luxury hotel—it appears that Justin Prior was a very wealthy young man. I get a bit of a lead on this one: there’s only a single hotel with a Medina address. It’s a very exclusive five-star location right on the water. Just a single night in their most basic room starts off at around a thousand bucks a night.

  I write the address down in my spreadsheet. It’s worth checking out for sure, especially since Secret Cache’s wine is advertised as being served in their on-site restaurant. But could Justin really keep a teenager trapped in a wine cellar on such a busy property?

  Regardless, this seems the most likely option. The next closest hotels are, once again, in Kirkland and Bellevue. Not all that far, but the distinct lack of a Medina address makes them much harder to figure out. Just as Tess’ grandmother could be buried in any one of the surrounding cemeteries.

  As far as the house … well, there’s nothing I can do to search for that now. I need the address. I can’t just march down to the county clerk’s office and tell them to dig up any and all information on Justin Prior … can I?

  “Mm.” I grumble to myself and switch back to my social media platforms. There’s nothing of use pertaining to my original video, but the skeleton key one yields a very promising start.

  My grandfather had a key just like that when I was little. Not for his house though, but for the mental health facility that he worked in. It could open any door in the building—even the patients’ rooms. He used to wear it around his neck. I remember asking to play with it as a kid and being given a very firm no. Maybe I’m showing my age here (I’m definitely what you kids might call an ‘ok boomer’) but I hope this helps.

  I j
ust stare at the comment for several seconds before switching back to an online search.

  Mental health facilities in Medina, Washington is what I type in first.

  The closest location that’s still in operation is in Lakewood—about an hour away from here. Founded in 1871. Hmm. But if it’s a working facility, I highly doubt they’re using ancient iron skeleton keys. I need something … less occupied, somewhere Parrish could be hidden away from the world.

  Mental health facility is a more modern term; I switch tactics.

  I try again with this search: out of business insane asylums Washington state.

  A cemetery/insane asylum in the nearby town of Sedro-Woolley, opened in 1909, pops up. It was abandoned in 1973 but was operational up until that point. Patients from King County—the county that Medina is located in—were sent there.

  “You’ve been imagining me as the broke, homeless, lunatic you dumped in a facility all those years ago.”

  Justin’s words from earlier. Tess also mentioned having had him committed. But where? He’s far too young to have been held in the Sedro-Woolley location. But could Parrish be at the abandoned property anyway? Again, the possibility of Justin staging a stone-walled room to look like a wine cellar comes to mind.

  So many options.

  But I feel like we’re on the right track.

  My heart is racing, and I pause as a text message comes in from Chasm.

  The back door was unlocked. Felt like a fucking trap, but we went in anyway. Volli was there having a glass of wine. He invited us to have a look around. Kinda guessing this isn’t what we’re looking for.

  Dear god. Both Volli and Justin are nuts. Like, certifiable.

  I pause.

  Right. Certifiable. Abandoned insane asylum. Seems kind of cliché, but then, so was the dead maid. Ugh. How the hell am I supposed to get the opportunity to drive an hour north, explore the facility, and then come all the way back here while under Tess’ watch?

  I’ll have to send the boys which I really don’t like. I know that in reality they’re no more or less safe with me present, but it’d make me feel better if I could go with them.