by Debra Webb
10:30 p.m.
After hitting seven clubs, they had still found no sign of Martin. They’d driven back to her house. Her dog had peered through the door at them. Her Jag wasn’t in the garage, so they’d driven to Wild Things. The club was the only place—according to Kayla—Martin frequented that they hadn’t dropped in on tonight.
The music was way too loud. The crowd was way too young. Tony led the way, cutting through the throng. He corralled the manager in his office. Wouldn’t you know, his friend Kayla Maples was there, too.
“It’s Friday night,” Waldrop warned as he stood from the desk. “I don’t have time for any of your shit.”
Tony waved him off and turned his attention to Kayla, perched on the cluttered desk. “You have her number, don’t you?” He suspected that was exactly why they hadn’t found Martin at any of the locations Kayla had given them hours ago.
She shrugged, avoiding eye contact. “Yeah. I guess I do.”
“Text her. Tell her you got something really important to tell her. You can’t talk about it on the phone.” Tony leaned down, put his face close to hers. “Do it now.”
Kayla crossed her arms over her chest. “Maybe we should call the police, Sean.”
Waldrop glared at Tony. “Maybe so. I think this fed is overstepping his bounds.”
Tony was on the guy before his words stopped echoing in the cluttered little room.
“Look.” Joanna moved between them, pushing Tony back. “Miles was murdered. You two know this, but you don’t even want to know how. It was totally gruesome. We’re really worried about Hailey. We have reason to believe she’s next on the killer’s list.”
The fury on the manager’s face slipped. He and Kayla exchanged a look.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Kayla asked. “Maybe you just want to harass her the way you’re harassing us?”
“If something happens to her and you could’ve helped,” Joanna went on, “you’ll feel like shit. Trust me.”
Kayla heaved a sigh and plucked her cell from her back pocket. “Tell me what you want me to say.”
Joanna repeated the message, watching over Kayla’s shoulder while she typed. Once she’d hit Send, Tony held out his hand. “You won’t mind if I hang on to your phone while we wait for her response.”
She rolled her eyes and slapped it in his palm. “You leave with my phone or fuck with it somehow and I’m calling the police for real.”
They followed the two back out into the fray. Waldrop immediately stormed behind the counter shouting orders at his two bartenders.
Joanna claimed the only stool at the end of the bar and ordered vodka straight up. When the bartender looked at Tony, he declined. He leaned against the counter next to her. The music was too loud for conversation so they watched the mob of bodies moving on the dance floor. The place was full of college-age revelers. Tony wondered how many had fake IDs sporting birth dates that proved they were over twenty-one?
Had Tiffany done this?
Of course she had and lowlifes like Conway and Martin were just waiting to strike.
Joanna elbowed him and nodded to the entrance. Martin strode in as if she owned the place. Tony moved away from the bar and merged into the mass of bodies. He cut across the crowd and came up behind Martin.
She stalled a few feet from the bar. Joanna lifted her glass to her.
Tony moved up beside her, putting his hand at the small of her back to usher her toward Joanna.
Martin took one look at him and bolted.
He went after her.
She was out the door and headed for her car when Tony caught up with her.
“Do not touch me!” She yanked her arm from his grasp.
Joanna joined them.
“Your partner is dead,” Tony warned. “I’m sure you’ve heard the details of how he died. The knife nicked a lung first. While he gasped for air, the second stab of the blade clipped the aorta. He probably lived two or three minutes. Long enough to feel the pain and watch the blood spurt out of his body...and to think about what he’d done to deserve being murdered.”
“Stay the fuck away from me!” Martin backed a few more feet away, her backside bumping against her Jag.
Joanna moved in on her, pressing her body against the other woman’s. Tony resisted the natural urge to pull her away.
“Do you know what your friend did to me?”
The words were filled with hatred.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Martin argued. She pushed at Joanna. “Back off!”
“You’re running out of time, bitch,” Joanna warned. “Watch your back or you’ll end up like your friend.”
A cruiser rolled into the parking lot. The driver’s side window came down. “Do we have a problem here?”
Tony grabbed Joanna by the shoulders and pulled her away from the other woman. “We’re fine, Officer. Just a little misunderstanding.”
The cop’s flashlight flicked from Tony’s face to Joanna’s and then to Martin’s. “You okay, ma’am?”
Tony wanted to kick something. Of course he thought Martin was the victim.
“I just want to go home,” she said, her voice wobbling and her eyes shining with tears.
“Go on, ma’am. I’ll just stay put until you’re on your way.”
“Thank you, Officer.” Martin shot Tony a knowing look and rounded the hood of her Jag.
True to his word, the officer didn’t leave until Martin’s taillights were out of sight.
Though Tony knew it would be pointless, they hit all the spots Martin frequented once more, and then drove back to her house.
They weren’t going to find her again tonight.
Rather than drive away immediately, Tony parked and turned off the engine. “We can wait for a while. See if she shows up.”
“Probably a waste of time.”
The silence went on for a couple of minutes. She checked her phone. He checked his even though he knew for once he hadn’t received a call or a text.
“What did Conway do to you?” Maybe he was an asshole for asking. She hadn’t mentioned anything before except that Conway was the person who lured her into a trap. Apparently there was more...a lot more.
“He raped us, Ellen and me, while we were unconscious...before he handed us over or whatever. I mean—” she shrugged “—I suppose it’s possible it was someone else, but he was the one who drugged us.”
Tony closed his eyes and prayed Tiffany hadn’t been raped.
“We were both so naive. Stupid little virgins trying to play with the big kids. Got ourselves into something we couldn’t handle.”
He reached across the console and put his hand on hers. “You didn’t get yourselves into anything. I’m thinking you were selected. They were looking for a certain type. Not necessarily height or weight, hair color or eye color, but a certain background and intelligence. All the known victims were from nice families, doing well in school, never in trouble. There’s a pattern—it’s just not the usual pattern when looking for serial offenders.”
“None of the victims were troublemakers,” she agreed. “Perfect school records. Normal, middle-class families.”
“There’s your pattern,” he said. “Tiffany and Vickie fit that same pattern.”
“But not the other girl,” Joanna said, her voice small in the darkness. “The third girl was hostile and lived on the street. She had tats and did drugs.” She drew in a big breath. “Like I told you before, they made us fight for food.”
Tony stared at her profile. The moonlight softly framing the outline of her nose and her chin. She’d pretty much glossed over the details when they’d talked about this before. “Fight as in hand to hand?”
She nodded. “Sometimes they provided rudimentary weapons, but mostly it was hand to hand. If you won, you ate. At lea
st in the beginning.”
Tony knew how difficult that would be for someone who’d never had to fight for their lives before—someone who’d been protected by a good, loving family.
His hand closed around hers. “I’m glad you survived.”
Her fingers tightened against his. “Maybe one of these days I’ll be glad, too.”
26
Antebellum Inn
11:40 p.m.
Angie and Steve were waiting when Tony and Joanna pulled into the drive behind the inn. A fist of fear punched Tony in the gut.
Every step he took felt like the wrong one. As hard as he tried he was getting nowhere. The police were getting nowhere. They would’ve been back sooner except they’d had to make a quick stop at a Walmart for clothes. Neither of them had come prepared for an extended stay.
How could he have been here four days and still be no closer to finding Tiffany than he was when he arrived?
“Is there a new development?” He moved past Joanna to where Ang sat in a chair on the small covered porch outside the cottage. Steve stood next to her. She’d been crying again. Her eyes were swollen, face red.
What if he’d been chasing bullshit leads, wasting his time?
Steve spoke first. “There’s nothing new, Tony.” He sighed, a bone-tired sound. “I’ve been trying to get her to go in the house for an hour now. She needs to sleep. She’s exhausted.”
“I don’t want to sleep,” Ang snapped. “I’ll sleep when we find our daughter.”
Steve looked as if she’d slapped him. He also looked dead on his feet.
“Let’s go inside.” Tony unlocked the door. “We can have some coffee.”
The innkeeper kept the cottage well stocked with everything save alcohol. At the moment Tony wished he had something far stronger. He thought about the way Joanna had downed the vodka. He supposed she needed fortifying worse than him. Maybe if he plied her with enough alcohol she would tell him the rest of the secrets she was keeping. There were at least a couple more.
Sharing the fact that she’d been raped was a big step. No one would fault her for wanting to keep that secret buried. She had opened up in the past twenty-four hours. Knowing what they’d been forced to do in captivity gave him some amount of insight into the sort of person who had abducted them. Maybe the same unsubs who had taken Tiffany and Vickie.
It was possible the unsubs were making the sort of fight-to-the-death films that sick creeps paid the big bucks for, but Tony had a feeling there was far more to this story than an internet moviemaking project.
Once they were inside, Joanna readied the coffee maker while Tony ushered his sister into a chair. He sat down next to her. Steve searched the cabinets for cups. Tony wished there was something he could say to set them at ease but he had nothing except a bunch of loose ends that wouldn’t weave together.
“The press conference was a joke.” Angie scrubbed her hands over her face. “All it did was elicit a storm of crazies calling in with sightings and eyewitness accounts of seeing the girls taken by aliens.”
No surprise there. Tony reached for her hand, gave it a squeeze. “Unfortunately it goes with the territory, but if it makes the unsub view the girls in a different light, it could make a difference.”
“Bullshit.” Joanna turned around from the coffee maker. “This guy isn’t watching the news. He’s too busy creating creepy scenarios for his victims to act out.”
Tony sent her a look he hoped relayed his message: Shut the fuck up.
“What’re you talking about?” Angie looked from Joanna to Tony. “What does she mean?”
Joanna left Steve to deal with the coffee. “I believe the same people who abducted me eighteen years ago are the ones who took your daughter.”
“We can’t be certain about that,” Tony said, shooting Joanna another warning look.
Joanna sat down on the small sofa across from Angie. “He’s wrong. The cops are wrong. The same doctor who gave your daughter a physical and a prescription for birth control a month before she disappeared did the same for me eighteen years ago. The same man who lured me to a club before I disappeared was seen with your daughter at least twice before she disappeared. That man is dead. The doctor who prescribed the pills is in critical condition. Whatever these bastards have been doing for nearly two decades, it’s falling apart now and everything’s going to shit.”
Tony closed his eyes. Wanted to shake the woman he’d been feeling so sorry for a few minutes ago.
“Tony.”
His sister said his name the way she had when they were kids and she knew he’d been sneaking around in her room. He opened his eyes and met Angie’s glower.
“Is she telling the truth?”
Before he could answer, Joanna made a sound of frustration and shot to her feet.
“No. I make up shit like this all the time. On day one your daughter and the others were stripped and tossed into a dark room. It’s what, day eight? By now they’re hungrier than they’ve ever been in their lives. They’ve gotten used to the darkness and the cold. If she’s performed well enough she’s probably gotten something to eat here and there. They make sure you have water—not much—but enough to keep functioning. They’re naked, hungry, scared and completely alone.”
“That’s enough.” Tony was on his feet before his words stopped ringing in the air.
“They can’t cling to each other,” Joanna continued defiantly. “Because they’re enemies. If one of the others eats, you don’t.”
Tony stepped in toe-to-toe with her. “I said shut up.”
Angie lunged out of her seat. She grabbed Joanna by the arms. “You must have some idea of where they kept you. What they looked like. Something!”
Joanna shook her head. “If I knew who was calling the shots, that person would be dying an agonizing death right now. But I don’t know. What I do know is that by tomorrow the lights will come on. It’ll be so bright they can barely stand to keep their eyes open. It feels like you’re walking around in a tanning booth with no protection. Your skin burns, your eyes burn and your lips crack.”
“What about the next day?” Steve moved into the small tension-filled circle they’d made. “And the day after that.”
Tony couldn’t stop Joanna now. He wanted to promise his sister that he’d find Tiffany before things escalated, but he couldn’t make that promise.
“They’ll be forced to perform—to fight, whatever they’re told to do—anything to survive. By day ten, you’re getting maybe a half a bottle of water a day...maybe a bite of food. He wants you completely helpless...totally desperate.”
“Dear God, why?” Angie pressed her hands to her mouth.
Joanna closed her eyes a moment, remembering. “To see who survives.”
“I... I thought...” Steve glanced at Tony. “I thought Tony said the girls always come back alive.”
“They should.” Joanna cleared her throat. “It’s some sort of twisted game. The fear of dying keeps you playing.”
Tony was grateful she hadn’t mentioned the other girl. He needed Angie and her husband calm and rational.
“But you got away. Where did the police find you?”
“On the highway.” She hugged her arms around herself. “We were in the woods and we found the highway. A trucker saw us and pulled over. We were too mentally rattled and scared to trust him so we ran but he called the police.”
“What highway? Where?”
“Vinson Highway.”
“So they didn’t take you far away?” Angie’s tone grew more agitated.
“We never knew where we were held or how we ended up in those woods.” Joanna shrugged. “The whole area was searched repeatedly. Nothing was ever found.”
Angie grabbed her purse from the floor and reached inside. “After the press conference a man came up to us.” She thrust some papers at Tony
. “He says there have been strange happenings at the old asylum for more than a century. He said we should look there.”
Tony took the papers and shuffled through the stack of reports about patient abuse and mysterious disappearances. Like most old insane asylums around the country heinous things were done to patients back in the day, that was true. The pages went on and on and the accusations grew more outrageous.
“He could be just a conspiracy theorist.”
“It can’t hurt to check it out,” Angie argued.
Steve passed his phone to Tony. “Vinson Highway runs close to the asylum property.”
“It’s...” Joanna shook her head. “The old hospital sits on hundreds or thousands of acres. The whole town is near the place.”
“Please, Tony,” Angie urged. “We drove around out there today, but security wouldn’t allow us to go into any of the buildings. But you can make them see it’s worth looking into. This man was so certain. It can’t hurt to look.”
Tony held up his hands. “Okay. I’ll check it out.”
Angie hugged him hard. “We’ll get out of your way.” She grabbed her husband’s hand and ushered him toward the door.
When goodnights were exchanged Tony closed and locked the door. “You shouldn’t have told her.”
“She’s stronger than you think,” Joanna said. “If her daughter is as strong as she is, she’ll survive.”
Tony hoped she was right about that part. But, he searched her face, her eyes, looking for those other secrets she kept. “You’ve maintained that there’s always one who doesn’t.”
She nodded. “There’s never any mention of the other girl in any of the articles. The other survivors I interviewed argued with me at first because that’s what had been drilled into their heads, but the more we talked about it, the more I pushed, they finally came around. Only one refused to admit there was a third girl.”
“You said there were two, three if you count the unknown girl, taken each year for five years. How many of the survivors are still alive?”
“Me and three others. Two died of natural causes, the other four committed suicide either accidentally or on purpose. Drug overdoses. Stuff like that.”