One (Count to Ten Book 1)

by Jane Blythe

  Now Xavier wasn’t thinking about her. He was off working with his partner to try and find the man who had killed her family and so many others. When he found that man, he might come looking for her but that could take weeks or months or even years, and Annabelle was pretty sure that whoever had taken her didn’t intend to leave her alive for that long.

  Why had she made such a big deal out of the fact that he still loved his ex-wife? Of course he did; it made sense that he would always love Julia. But he had said that he was falling in love with her. She never thought she’d hear a man say those words to her, but when someone finally had, she’d thrown it back in his face. Told him that it didn’t matter, that she couldn’t deal with losing him, and sent him away. That foolish mistake could end up costing her her life.

  She had to learn to stop running scared all the time. Okay, so maybe Xavier might have ended up leaving her to go back to Julia, but maybe he wouldn’t have. Maybe the two of them would have been happy together. Gotten married, had children, shared their lives together.

  But now that could never happen. She had thrown it all away because she’d been scared. Scared and stubborn.

  Tears were welling up in her eyes, threatening to spill out if she wasn’t careful. And Annabelle knew she had to be careful. Her mouth was taped shut and if she cried and got her nose all stuffed up, she’d suffocate.

  She forced herself to calm down. If she was going to have any hope at all of getting out of this alive, then she needed to remain calm. Clearing her mind and forcing herself to feel nothing, no fear or terror or regret, she tried to come up with a plan. Waiting for Xavier, or anyone else, to find her was not an option. Annabelle was on her own; luckily, something she was accustomed to.

  She tested the ropes that bound her, yanking and wiggling her wrists and ankles until they were ripped raw, with no results. Obviously, she wasn’t going to bust herself out of here.

  That really only left talking her way out, which also presented a problem. She had no idea who had taken her or why. Annabelle assumed that it had to be the man who murdered her family, and who had already made one attempt at killing her, but she didn’t know who that was. Xavier and Kate had asked her questions about Dr. Daniels and Ricky, plus they’d shown her a photo of some other man. That didn’t mean it was one of those men though, it could be anyone.

  Annabelle couldn’t believe that her kind and thoughtful friend was really a serial killer, nor could she believe that Dr. Daniels, who had been so sweet to her while she was in the hospital, was a serial killer. That still left the third man or any other man on the planet. She sighed.

  Her gaze fell on a window, several feet away, she wasn’t close enough to see anything more than a patch of blue sky, but help could be just outside. When the man came back to check on her, and at this point she had to believe that he would, she couldn’t accept that he had tied her up here and left her to die a slow and painful death, she could scream for help the second he removed the tape from her mouth.

  As hard as she tried not to, Annabelle couldn’t help conjuring up possibilities as to just why this man had abducted her.

  If he simply wanted her dead, then he could have killed her at the motel.

  He would have had ample opportunity to do it. She was all alone there after Xavier had left, it would have been easy for whoever went to the trouble of abducting her to just stab her or shoot her or slash her throat like he had to kill her parents, brothers, and sister. But he had gone to the trouble of abducting her and bringing her here and tying her up. He had something in mind. He had a reason for taking her. And knowing that left Annabelle terrified.

  It reassured her a little to see her clothes were still on. This man had raped her once already, something she knew she would have to deal with at some point, assuming she made it out of this alive, but for now she was locking it away and pretending it never happened.

  Maybe the man had done it again while she was unconscious.

  Maybe that was the reason he’d brought her here.

  Xavier had said that her family was different.

  Was she the reason for that?

  Did the killer have something special planned for her?

  Before she had a chance to ponder this further, she heard the creak of a door opening. Turning her head, she saw a man standing beside her, a child’s clown mask covering his face, the blue eyes that stared intently at her chillingly familiar.

  Slowly the man stepped closer, producing a small bottle and a syringe from his pocket. Panicking as she watched him prepare what she assumed was a sedative, Annabelle thrashed against her bonds, ignoring the burning in her already sore wrists and ankles. She attempted to scream through the tape that muffled any pleas for help she might make.

  The man reached out a hand and began to stroke her hair. The tender way he did so made Annabelle’s blood turn to ice, and she went still.

  “Sleep well, pretty girl,” he murmured as he rammed the needle into her thigh.

  Right before unconsciousness took hold, Annabelle managed to place the voice and she wondered how she could have missed that he was this unbalanced.

  * * * * *

  10:35 A.M.

  “You find anything?”

  Starting, Xavier hadn't heard anyone approaching, not a good thing since there was a maniac on the loose. “Nothing.” He shook his head in frustration. He hadn’t really expected to find something here at Annabelle’s house, he’d known that CSU would have found anything that the killer had left behind, but he had to do something. “The syringe? Diane get anything from it?”

  “Fingerprints match the ones from the crime scenes,” Kate replied.

  “So he definitely has her,” Xavier sighed. A part of him had been hoping that something or someone else was responsible for Annabelle’s disappearance. Not that it would have really been helpful, she still would have been in harm’s way. “What’d he use?”

  “Ketamine.”

  He jumped on that. “Dr. Daniels would more than likely have access to that at the hospital, more proof that the over-attentive doctor is the killer.”

  “Or,” Kate drawled, “Ricky Preston or Lachlan Thompson could potentially have swiped some when they were at the hospital. Both of them have been in and out recently—Ricky, with his broken arm; Lachlan with his cancer. It’s conceivable that either one of them managed to somehow get their hands on some Ketamine. Or it could be any number of people. We still don’t have any real proof, Xavier.”

  “That’s why I came back here.” He surveyed the badly damaged house. “Other than you, Rob, and Diane no one else knew that I was bringing Annabelle back out here and yet somehow the killer knew we were here.”

  “You think he was following you? Or Annabelle?” Kate plopped down in the grass and crossed her legs.

  “Maybe,” he dropped down beside her, fighting a yawn. “I asked Diane to check out my car and cell phone.”

  “For tracking devices?”

  “She found nothing.” Xavier rubbed at his eyes. They’d been itchy ever since the fire and the no sleep wasn’t helping. “I didn’t see anyone following us, and we sat out front in the car for several minutes while I told Annabelle what had happened to her.”

  “But he left in a car, right?” Kate’s gaze moved to the tire treads on the road. “I mean, you saw him leave in a red car when you were getting the ladder to get Annabelle out.”

  “That’s true.” Xavier was so confused. They didn’t have time for indecision, they needed to find definitive proof of who the killer was before he had a chance to hurt Annabelle.

  “Maybe he just figured you and Annabelle would come back here eventually,” Kate suggested. “Just decided he’d keep checking here and wait for you to show up and then pounce.”

  “Maybe.” It was possible, Xavier thought, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing the obvious, that there was something important staring him in the face and yet he couldn’t see it.

  “What’re you thinking?�
� Kate had worked with him long enough to know when his brain was ticking something over.

  “That it doesn’t ring true that Annabelle’s family was the only one the killer didn’t call in himself.”

  “I thought we thought it was because he got interrupted,” Kate queried.

  “But how did he know that he’d been interrupted?” he pressed on, sure he was on the right track. “Ricky Preston didn’t go into the Englewood house or alert the killer in any way. We didn’t see anyone running out of the house when we got here, neither did we see anyone driving away up the street or any red cars parked outside.”

  “Maybe the killer looked out the window and saw Ricky the same way Ricky looked up and saw him, then realized he’d have to hurry…”

  “It didn’t look like he hurried.” Xavier remembered the perfectly orchestrated scene in the Englewood house.

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” Kate shrugged. “Maybe he was just finished.”

  “Diane said he started with Annabelle’s parents,” he reminded his partner. “If Ricky was standing in his yard and saw the killer standing over John and Kathy’s bed with a knife and immediately phoned the police, then there is no possible way he could have killed and mutilated Paul, Julian and Katherine, then attacked Annabelle all before we got there. It’s just not…” he trailed off as he realized what it was that had been bugging him.

  Shooting up, he ran next door, Kate hot on his heels. “Xavier, what’s going on?” she demanded as he hammered on the door.

  “Ricky Preston is the killer,” he explained. “Ricky? It’s Detective Montague, open up.”

  “What are you talking about?” Kate demanded, frustration brewing in her usually calm blue eyes. “I thought we were thinking Bruce Daniels; how do you know it’s Ricky Preston?”

  Continuing to thump with one fist, with his free hand he gestured at the Englewood house. “You can’t see John and Kathy Englewood’s room from Ricky’s house; it’s around the other side. But you can see Annabelle’s room.”

  “So he lied.” Kate’s blue eyes grew wide.

  “He was never in his backyard; he never saw a figure with a knife standing over John and Kathy’s bed; he never came running back inside to check his telescope. That’s why we thought the killer didn’t call it in the first time. But he did call it in, he just called it in as himself.”

  “Ricky definitely lied to us,” Kate agreed cautiously. “But that doesn’t mean he’s the killer. Maybe he was using his telescope, only he was using it to spy on Annabelle. You’re the one who’s convinced he’s interested in her. Maybe he’s been secretly watching her and then that night he saw someone in her room. That would fit in better with the timeline. Annabelle was raped and attacked last, so if Ricky called it in when he saw the killer in her room, then by the time he’d called nine-one-one the killer would have been finished and left before we got there.”

  “Annabelle’s house was the only one that wasn’t broken into,” he reminded her. “As their neighbor, Ricky might have had a key, or he probably knew where they kept their spare one hidden.” He jiggled the handle, expecting to find it locked but the door swung open. “He had no reason to lie if he had nothing to hide.” He pushed the door the rest of the way open and stepped inside.

  “Xavier, we have no probable cause.” Kate stopped him.

  “Ricky Preston is the killer, I’m sure of it, and that means he has Annabelle right now. I thought I just heard a call for help,” he lied. “There’s our probable cause.” With that, he pulled out his gun and proceeded to check out the house, Kate at his side. Covering the downstairs and then the upstairs, they found nothing and he was beginning to lose hope that he’d ever find Annabelle and convince her that he at least deserved a shot at proving to her that he was serious about wanting a relationship.

  “Xavier,” Kate jabbed him in the ribs.

  “What?” he blinked, realizing he’d gotten distracted.

  “Attic door’s locked,” Kate whispered.

  Guns ready, Kate stepped to the side, and with a well-placed foot he splintered the door with one kick. A quick survey of the small space revealed it was empty, but as his gaze was drawn to the middle of the room, he knew that someone had recently inhabited it.

  In the center of the room sat a large oak table. On the ground at each of the legs was a tangle of rope. Slipping his gun away, Xavier knelt at one of the corners, something shiny capturing his attention. As he picked it up he knew he was right. Ricky Preston was the killer. Ricky Preston had Annabelle at this very second. Had held her in this very room maybe as recently as just a few hours ago.

  “What’d you find?” Kate stooped beside him.

  He held up the delicate gold chain with her name engraved on it so his partner could see it. “Annabelle’s bracelet,” he murmured, wondering if this would end up being all he had left of a woman he’d never even really had.

  * * * * *

  12:21 P.M.

  Kate glanced over at her partner as he hung up his phone and returned it to his pocket. “And?” Kate prompted when he didn’t speak.

  “It’s Ricky,” he confirmed, rubbing tiredly at his face. “Diane matched his fingerprints to the ones CSU collected from each of the crime scenes.”

  “And?” she prompted again when Xavier closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the passenger seat.

  “And the blood on the ropes was Annabelle’s,” he finished glumly.

  “Well, I guess we now know how he knew you and Annabelle were at her house,” she mused. “He didn’t need to follow you or use a bug; all he needed to do was sit at home and wait until you fell into his lap.”

  “I thought Ricky had genuine feelings for Annabelle,” Xavier pried an eye open to glance at her sideways. “Why would he try to kill her in a fire?”

  Pondering that, she couldn’t disagree that it had seemed that Ricky Preston was truly enamored with Annabelle. “Maybe it was just a distraction.”

  “A distraction?” Xavier opened his other eye.

  “You had taken Annabelle back to the house where she was attacked, where her family was killed. Maybe he thought she might remember something—something incriminating—so he decided to put a stop to it. The fire certainly achieved that. Who knows what else Annabelle might have remembered if you hadn't seen the smoke? She might have remembered it was Ricky and he wouldn’t have been able to finish what he started.”

  He let his eyes slide closed again. “I should have figured it out earlier,” Xavier sighed dismally.

  “You were suspicious of Ricky Preston from the beginning,” she consoled.

  “You mean, I was jealous of Ricky Preston from the beginning,” Xavier corrected. “The way he looked at Annabelle, I could tell he liked her no matter what he said. I guess he finally got fed up that Annabelle didn’t reciprocate and decided to do something about it.”

  “It seems like kind of an overly elaborate way just to get his hands on Annabelle.” Kate couldn’t believe that Ricky wanting Annabelle was all that was going on. There had to be more to it.

  “You think he had another reason for doing all of this?”

  “If all he wanted was Annabelle, there were plenty of other ways to get her. I mean, he lived next door to her, they were friends, they spent time together—he could have snatched her anytime, there was no need to go to these lengths. I mean, killing and mutilating her family and three others, it seems like overkill if all he wanted to do was abduct her. I think taking Annabelle was just a side effect to his real plan,” Kate finished thoughtfully.

  “Maybe he felt like he needed to isolate and terrify her in order to get her to trust him and fall for him.” Xavier rubbed tiredly at his face. “What do you think he’s doing to her right now? He has her all alone. Drugged, tied up, helpless. He’s already raped her once; last time she was unconscious, but if he does it again…”

  “Xavier, Xavier, stop,” she rested a hand on his shoulder and shook gently. “Thinking like that is
n’t going to help.”

  “I should have figured it out sooner,” he said again, “but I didn’t and now he has her, he has her. This monster has her and I don’t know what he’s doing to her and I don’t know how to get her back…”

  “Yes, you do,” she contradicted firmly. “You do know how to get Annabelle back. We’re going to get out of this car, go in there,” she gestured to the shop that they were parked in front of, “and talk to Ricky’s boss. We’re going to find out everything we can about him, and then once we know why he did all of this, we’ll know where to look for Annabelle.”

  “Yeah.” Xavier drew a shaky breath and took a second to pull himself together before opening his eyes. “Let’s do it.”

  Kate watched her partner carefully as they strode toward the shop. All things considered, Xavier appeared to be holding it together, but if he started to fall apart, she wouldn’t hesitate to do something about it. As much as she loved and cared about Xavier and would never want to hurt him, right now finding Ricky Preston before he hurt anyone else was the priority. And she knew that Xavier wouldn’t want his actions to in any way endanger Annabelle.

  After a brief moment of hammering on the door, it swung open to reveal the shortest, roundest old man Kate had ever seen.

  “May I help you?” he squinted up at them through glasses as round as his stomach.

  “Terry McGinnely?” Xavier asked.

  “Yes,” he confirmed.

  “I’m Detective Hannah, and this Detective Montague,” she made the introductions. “We spoke on the phone earlier.”

  “Ah, yes.” A smile broke out on Terry’s bright red face. “Please come in.” The large man navigated his way through the packed workshop with surprising ease, leading them down to a small room at the back. He indicated toward the table and rickety chairs that took up most of the space, “Take a seat. Does anyone want anything to drink?”

  “I’m good,” Xavier answered tightly, clearly wanting to get on with things.