by Tony Urban
“Sorry about the ice water,” he said. “But it seemed the quickest way to bring you back around.”
The man came closer into view, focusing slightly, but she still couldn’t make out any detailed features of his face. It was bearded and he had long hair draped down over his ears. He stood firm and imposing, towering over her.
Between his legs she saw his penis dangling. It was surrounded by a jungle of hair that trailed up and across his chest, dense and coarse. He was completely naked, and that’s when she finally noticed that she too was unclothed.
Her heart picked up the pace, her mind immediately going toward his intentions. The previous victims hadn’t been sexually assaulted, but that didn’t mean she was safe.
She clenched her fists, still drowsy, but determined to fight. She wouldn’t let him anywhere near her, let alone inside of her, without doing everything in her power to stop him.
She saw him cock his head, a smile fading away. “Don’t fret,” he said. “Rape isn’t on the menu. I’ve no interest in that.”
Leigh wasn’t dumb. Men lied. Especially men who were kidnappers and murderers. Yet she found improbable solace in his words, even if they were coming from the mouth of a psycho. “Wh-- Why should I believe you?” she asked, cursing herself for stuttering.
“I have a wife whom I love very much. I have no yearning for empty sex from a thing like you.”
So much for being put at ease, she thought. She wasn’t a profiler or a seasoned detective, but she was pretty sure that being referred to as a thing didn’t bode well for her long-term odds of survival.
“Then what do you want from me?” she asked. But she knew the answer. She’d seen the dead bodies. She’d worked with Carolina and Agent Billington and heard their theories on the killer’s motives. She was there to be hunted, but she wanted to buy as much time as possible.
She looked at his face. Still in a haze, but she could tell he that he smiled from the color and shape of his bared teeth.
“First, I want your head to clear and the drug to work its way out of your system. We can’t begin our game with you disoriented. That wouldn’t be fair. Wouldn’t be fair at all.”
“And second?” she asked.
He leaned in to sniff her, then turned around, heading toward a narrow staircase.
“You’ll find out soon,” he said before exiting the basement.
Chapter 61
The rumble of the road rocked her back and forth like a baby in its mother’s arms. But soon the dream came to an end and Carolina found herself waking to a much less comforting reality.
She was surprisingly calm considering she was tied up in the back of a minivan. She could immediately tell that it wasn’t her van with its bed and living quarters. For one, there were seats, three rows of them. Add in a ride so smooth and comfortable that it made her own rig feel like she was driving on steel wheels over a field of boulders.
Carolina attempted to sit up without making too much noise, but the lack of a radio playing and only the hum of the road to cover her movement wasn’t enough. Gina turned her attention from the lane ahead to where Carolina lay on the carpeted floor.
“You should rest,” Gina said. “I’m no doctor, but you took a hard blow to the head and might have a concussion.”
Carolina blinked trying to comprehend her situation. Her face was sticky with blood and her hair was matted against her skin. But worse than that, she felt like a jackhammer was pounding her brain. It was hard to think, let alone focus.
But Gina seemed calm, even relaxed. Like she was taking an old friend for a leisurely ride. Maybe she was in shock. Carolina didn’t believe that the woman was aware of her husband’s extracurricular activities. Then again, Gina had knocked her out, tied her up, and wrestled her into a vehicle so she might not be as innocent as Carolina first thought.
“I’ll be alright, I think,” Carolina offered.
“Good,” Gina said. She still stared at Carolina via the rearview mirror, studying her.
“Careful,” Carolina said, pointing her chin to the empty road ahead. She could barely see out the windshield, but the headlights lit up an unpaved path surrounded by trees. With a quick glance out the back window she confirmed there was no other traffic.
“Oh, right,” Gina said with a lilting laugh. “Last thing we need is a deer popping out and me hitting it square on. That would jack up my auto insurance rates something awful.”
“Yeah. We don’t want those premiums going up,” Carolina said, her voice oozing sarcasm. Hitting a deer might be the perfect thing to happen. Any excuse to stop driving, pull over, and give her the chance to escape.
A moment of silence passed while Carolina considered what to say or do next. She moved her feet but couldn’t separate them. She looked down and saw they were duct-taped together. Her hands, however, weren’t as secure.
They were bound behind her back, and she could feel tape against her skin. Not duct tape though, this was thin and crinkly. She maneuvered her wrists to the side and craned her neck to take a look. The woman had used packing tape, then apparently realized it wasn’t going to hold and tied a crocheted scarf around her wrists for backup.
“I hope you’re not too uncomfortable,” Gina said, in a half-statement, half-question.
Carolina stared at Gina’s eyes via the rearview mirror. “No, it’s fine.”
“I’ve never done anything like this,” Gina said, which was blatantly obvious.
“So why start now?” Carolina asked. She started to move her wrists, to loosen the scarf and tape, thankful the woman was so inept.
“Because you’re after my husband, aren’t you?” she said.
“Then you know what he is?” Carolina asked. “What he’s done?”
“Not until you asked how close the cabin was to Silver Gap. Then it came together. All those late nights he was making repairs. The way he’s changed over the last several months...”
“It’s not too late to get out of this. I know you weren’t involved.”
“Of course, I wasn’t!” Gina snapped. “I wouldn’t have tolerated that. But you don’t understand. Mitch is a good man. A good husband. He isn’t the monster you think he is. Do you know how much he loves me?”
Gina’s cheeks were red and her eyes bloodshot with the threat of tears.
“I do understand, Gina. I’m sure he does love you. Very much, actually. That’s why he never sexually assaulted any of the victims. He didn’t touch them that way because of his love for you.”
Gina was full-on crying by then. She wiped the back of her hand across her nose, stringing a trail of snot across her upper lip.
“It’s all because of me. The way he is now is because he risked his life to save mine. I bet you didn’t know that, did you?” She turned to look, taking her eyes off the road again and Carolina held her breath, waiting for a crash.
“That wolf came out of nowhere. It was going to kill me until Mitch arrived. He had it much worse than me though. The doctors, they said he’d never wake up. And that if he did, he’d have brain damage from having his skull cracked like the shell of a hard-boiled egg.”
Carolina listened, adding nods of sympathy while she freed her hands. The scarf slipped off easily and the tape was so loose from her sweating that it slid free with barely an inconvenience.
Her hand went to her hip, where she felt the holster, but not her pistol. Gina must have taken it. Even being new at tying someone up, she wasn’t dumb enough to leave her with a loaded gun.
Gina continued. “But he did wake up after five weeks. After a while he was normal again. It was a miracle. Talking, laughing. My Mitch was back. He wasn’t supposed to be this… this... animal.”
Underneath the seat of the middle row in the van, Carolina spotted a bloody pipe wrench and realized it was the object she’d been hit with. She grabbed it, knowing it could put a quick end to this hellish joyride.
She still had her feet to worry about, however. Plus, Gina knew where they were go
ing, and Carolina hadn’t a clue. She’d have to bide her time and wait until they reached the cabin before making her move.
But she knew every minute that went by was a minute off of Leigh’s life. And the sooner law enforcement got to the cabin, the better. “You could call my colleague at the FBI and explain what’s going on. She’ll understand the situation, just like I do.”
Gina steeled herself and put her foot on the gas, sending Carolina colliding into a bench seat.
“Mitch will know what to do. He’s better at handling stressful situations,” Gina said, as if there hadn’t been multiple murders already. “According to the GPS, we’ll be there soon.”
Chapter 62
Leigh shivered as she stepped onto the pine needles and detritus which wove together to form a carpet across the forest floor. It was dark outside, the only light coming from the moon above. But it was a cloudy night, and she could see little more than an outline of trees.
Her eyes were clear again, and the surprise of realizing Dr. Mitch was the killer and her abductor had rocked her. He looked different - wild - with his hair draped down and long instead of pulled up in a neat bun. He had the same face but an entirely different look in his eyes. He wasn’t the charming veterinarian anymore. He was a man with one purpose and laser focus.
He was set on a path of destruction, and Leigh was his target.
Mitch stood behind her, holding a Ka-Bar tactical knife. The blade was black, and the edge was serrated near the hilt. Leigh recognized the weapon because her father had the same model from his days in the military. It was the only weapon he’d provided when leaving her alone in the Kentucky woods.
She debated on spinning around. Jumping Mitch. Trying to wrestle the knife away from him. But risking hand-to-hand combat with a man who was much bigger while he held a seven-inch blade didn’t seem like the best idea. After the struggle she’d had with him at the park, she was likely to find herself stabbed and gutted instead.
“Don’t worry,” Mitch said. “I’m not going to use the knife on you. Its sole purpose is to keep you obedient while you learn the rules.”
“Rules?” she asked.
“They are quite simple. You will run. And I will hunt you.”
“Hunt me?” she parroted, trying to buy time in any way possible.
“Out there,” he said, motioning to the vast emptiness of the forest before them. If they were near Silver Gap, she knew there were no houses for miles. There was nowhere she could run to achieve safety. Her only hope was losing him somewhere along the way.
She looked down at her feet, completely bare. Just walking across this mildly rough clearing had them hurting, let alone venturing into the thick of the woods. Then she looked out towards in the trees. The branches hung low, their hard, skeletal branches ready to shred her bare flesh.
The entire forest looked like it was ready to chew her to paste and swallow her up.
“I don’t have shoes,” she said.
“Neither do I,” Mitch said, as if that gave her an advantage.
She turned to him, to see if there was any way she could plead, reason, or trick him into letting her go. But he was cold steel. His eyes on the prize.
He held the knife up, the tip under her neck. “Now, run.”
Leigh didn’t have to be told twice. She spun around and took off into the woods. She heard a thud in the dirt behind her and stole a quick glance backwards just before ducking into the brush. Mitch had dropped the knife and was now on all fours. He sniffed the ground like he was a wild animal.
Then he threw his head back and howled.
It might have been hilarious, the sight of the naked man pretending to be a wolf, baying at the moon like an old dog, if it weren’t real. If Leigh didn’t know what he’d done to the other women. If he weren’t coming for her. But it was real. She did know how the other women were massacred.
And he was coming for her.
Leigh disappeared into the forest, unable to see Mitch or the cabin, and kept running. The sound of the howls continued, but they didn’t follow her. At least, not yet.
They became softer, quieter in the distance. She knew she had the smallest of head starts. Mitch let her get a lead because he was confident he would find her.
And Leigh knew he could do it. Nobody had come forward as a living victim. Nobody had escaped from his little game.
But Leigh was different. She wasn’t the best fighter or the best cop. But she was going to be the first survivor. She had to be.
She hadn’t lived her life and endured her father’s abuse just to die like an animal. She had to believe in herself.
The moment she lost hope was the moment she would die.
Her heart pounded like it was trying to escape from her chest.
Her eyes were directed ahead, and she used her hand to shield her face from the branches as they tried to hold her back, clinging to her flesh and ripping small incisions.
None of those things mattered. Nuisances would have to wait their turn. There was a bigger threat, and it was coming after her.
The ground was soft and damp under her bare feet. It helped her keep moving, but she was nowhere near as fast as she’d be if she had her boots on. Making things worse, she had a full bladder and could feel the urine sloshing inside her with each galloping step. But she dared not stop to relieve herself. There was no time.
As much as she tried to shove the pain caused by a million tiny aggressions from her mind, as much as her body tried to toughen itself, she still felt the jagged pieces of rocks and thorns and whatever else had made its way up from the ground for her to step on. Each stab slowed her by a fraction of a second, but they kept accumulating.
The howling had ceased. He was on the move.
She wasn’t going to outrun him at her current. Eventually she would fatigue and slow down even more. She needed to buy herself some time. Time to think and get to work.
Leigh pressed on until she came to a mostly dry creek bed. There she found a stone that was about the size of her palm, and she pried it from the mud. It came free with a hungry sucking sound, and she clutched it to her chest, feeling its coldness against her bare breasts.
She looked around, no idea where she was, but that didn’t matter. Through the clutter of trees, she saw a boulder that was about knee high on her. It would be perfect.
She hurled the rock at it, full force. It clacked against the larger stone, leaving a white scuff. She picked the rock up and threw it again.
That time it worked.
The palm-sized rock split into three pieces and she grabbed the one in the middle. It had splintered into a wedge-like shape, tapered and sharp at one end. It was too small to be a weapon, but she had something else planned.
Searching, she found a fallen tree. By the looks of it, it had been sprawled there for years, the limbs leafless and brittle.
She grabbed a branch from the dead tree and snapped it off with one pull. Then she ran her hand across the shaft, breaking off the small twigs and creating a cleaner staff. At the end where it had snapped from the trunk, she lucked out and realized it was already halfway to the pointed shape that she needed.
She used the stone to hack at the wood, grinding and shaving it down, until it was at a crude, but narrow tip. She poked her finger on the end. The stick wasn’t needle-sharp, but it didn’t need to be.
With enough force, it would serve her well.
The forest was far too dark to make out any figures that might be hovering around her. Even with the moonlight, the tree covering was dense, and she could only see a few feet in any given direction.
A howl echoed much closer than the last one, and she wondered how much time had passed since she had taken off running. However long it had been, it wasn’t long enough.
How is he so damned quick, she thought. Her head-start was almost spent. He would be on her soon. It seemed impossible, but he was familiar with these woods, these poaching grounds, that were so full of unforgiving terrain that real h
unters avoided them.
The condition of her skin, scratches all over, blood dripping down her legs like she’d just endured a backwoods abortion, was proof of the land’s lack of mercy.
God, she had to piss. She squeezed her thighs together, trying to delay the inevitable. But the urge was worse the longer she stood still so she decided it was time to move.
She had the tools she needed if she was going to fight back, but she still wanted to get as far from him as possible. To possibly find some road or campsite even though she knew the odds were infinitesimal.
But she didn’t know which way to go. In her panic she hadn’t paid attention to terrain or any landmarks. Even if she had seen something of note, it would be too dark to find again. So, she just had to pick a direction and go, even if it meant sinking herself deeper into the woods.
Her mind reeled as she ran. How could this man, who’d been an upstanding member of the community, be secretly slaughtering women? How could a man who cared for dogs and cats be a maniac who moonlight as a wolf after work?
No one had seen through his facade of sanity and normalcy. Not Hank or Billington or even Carolina. Leigh tried to keep her mind away from this thought, but it kept creeping back, kept tugging at her, letting her know that nobody was going to come for her.
Either she was going to kill Mitch, or he’d put an end to her, tearing her apart with his hands and teeth. If she was lucky, poachers might find her body months later. But more likely than not, she’d never be found. Her mother would never know what happened to her. There would be no grave to visit. Just decomposing remains slowly being consumed by nature.
Her feet thudded against the ground. She slid sideways, barely avoiding crashing into a hardy maple. She didn’t have time to plot her course anymore. There was no time to take it slow or easy.
She ran dead ahead until her foot caught an upraised root. It jutted up from the dirt floor and her four little toes slid under it. Her big toe was too fat to fit, though, and the gnarled root caught the nail. The toenail she’d had painted blue in preparation for the Fourth of July during her last pedicure.