by Zena Jae
Why did her face feel like it wore a dried-out mud mask? It felt stiff and stifling, but then she realized...so did her entire body.
She could hardly move her head but her eyes glanced down at her lap. Her chest could hardly expand with her frantic breaths as plastic wrap garbed her snugly. The troll left only her nose and eyes free from bondage—but the rest of her was mummified.
Amy’s dire need to beg the troll not to hurt her and to let her go left her frustrated. If she could only tell them she was pregnant, maybe they’d find it in their heart to have mercy on her. But that wasn’t going to happen—the troll would never hear what she had to say.
She stared into the camera setup in front of her. Her mind flooded with panic and fear.
“For a petite thing, you took a lot of plastic wrap. It’s a good thing I bought two heavy-duty rolls,” the troll said as they adjusted the tripod’s distance.
Muffled sounds, like a small wounded animal whimpering, emitted from Amy’s throat.
“Do you think your husband will remarry after you’re gone? How long do you think he’ll mourn you?”
Tears flowed from Amy’s eyes as her whimpers continued.
The troll was now behind her.
Amy heard a crinkling sound.
“Take a deep breath, Amy, and hold it.”
The troll applied more plastic wrap to her face, covering her nose and leaving just her eyes free now.
Amy bucked as she tried to get free but it was no use—plastic wrap bound her to the chair.
The troll got behind the tripod and said, “Smile for the camera, Amy,” then pressed the record button.
The troll kept silent as the video rolled. Only Amy’s guttural screams of panic sounded out in the room while her body tried frantically to free herself.
A smile embellished the troll’s face as shivers of thrill passed through their body, ogling Amy as though she were naked and wanting—their attention riveted by her last moments of life.
But the most exhilarating and pleasurable of all to witness—was the panic, the horror, and fear that the victim’s eyes portrayed.
That performance—of Amy’s eyes—could’ve won her an Oscar.
* * *
While Marcus ate his meal, Piper disappeared into her room.
“You make a mean meatloaf,” he called out. He could hear drawers opening and closing and then finally zippers. He wondered what she was doing.
Marcus shoveled the last forkful into his mouth, cleaned his dishes and then sought her out. By this time, she was in her study typing on her keyboard.
“The troll hasn’t posted yet, but I’m letting the group know about Amy,” she told him as he stood behind her, his eyes following the words as they appeared on her screen.
Once she hit the ‘SEND’ button, she closed her laptop, unplugged it then shoved it into its carrying case.
“You going somewhere?” he asked.
“What? Has your offer expired already?”
His eyes glimmered. “Good, I’m glad you’ve come to your senses.”
“Let’s put it this way, if I can do whatever it takes to prevent being kidnapped, tortured then killed, I’d be insane not to do it.”
“I always knew you had brains in that pretty little head of yours.”
Pretty? Did he say ‘pretty’? Never mind about the brains part, she knew he knew she was a smart cookie, but pretty was a compliment she didn’t recall he had ever used. Sure, his eyes often conveyed his admiration for her looks, but to say the words—never.
“Well, just don’t stand there, my camel. My bags await you in the bedroom.”
Marcus laughed. “Okay, Sheba, but I expect a huge tip if I end up breaking my back.”
“I pack light, so not even another straw will hurt you.”
Cotton trotted merrily behind as Marcus and Piper loaded up his SUV.
“I’m going to double-check that everything’s turned off and locked up,” she told him. “You can take Cotton and go on ahead and I’ll be right behind you.”
He didn’t care for that. “I’ll wait.” He picked Cotton up and put her in the backseat.
“Suit yourself,” she said and went back into the house.
As Marcus drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel, the ringtone on his cell phone indicated a text message had arrived.
He unclipped his cell from his belt and retrieved the message.
‘You can’t save her. She’s mine.’
There was no return number or email address associated with the text message. If his chief supported bringing in the FBI, which he felt confident he would, he’d ask the Feds to do a trace on where the call came from.
Marcus jumped out of his vehicle as his eyes swept the area. Was the perp out there right now watching them? Or did he send this from elsewhere and the timing was just a coincidence that he’d be at Piper’s. Or maybe the perp knew very well where he’d be or at least assume Marcus was with her, doing his best to protect her.
Marcus spun around when he heard Piper locking the front door.
“What is it?” she asked when his expression looked perturbed.
“Nothing.” He wasn’t going to tell her about the text message. It would only add more stress and worry to her life.
Hmm, she was skeptical. His answer didn’t sound sincere, or rather, the look on his face a moment ago didn’t align with his ‘nothing’ answer. Oh well, she wasn’t going to press it. She wanted to get going.
Marcus led the way as Piper followed in her car behind him. Would she be safer at his place? At least at night she would be, but during the days when he was at work and she was alone—then not really. But having her back during the nights was a hell of a lot better than not having him at all.
Cotton would be safer too.
She put her hand on her hip to check that her Beretta was still there. Yup, her trusty gun would provide the daytime protection she needed.
At least—she hoped so.
Chapter 17
Piper hadn’t been to Marcus’ place in a long while, not since the accident. She glanced around the modern style cabin. It was as she remembered it with its A-framed ceiling with loft, red brick fireplace, and hand-carved, simple-styled dark wooden furniture. The décor was so like him, it oozed masculinity—no flowers in vases, or potted plants, no linens or lace, mainly dark solid colors, certainly nothing bright and overly cheery, but that was okay because it had a coziness about it that she always liked.
She inhaled a deep breath as the scent of cedar filled her senses—she loved that smell.
“You can have the guest bedroom next to my room,” Marcus told Piper as he closed the front door, a bag hanging from his shoulder and another in his hand.
Piper carried her toiletry bag, laptop, Cotton’s doggie bed and feeding bowl to the bedroom. After she set the doggie bed down at the foot of the bed, she took the feeding bowl to the kitchen and her laptop into the living room.
“You might want to setup your laptop in the kitchen nook. You’ll have nicer scenery during the day.”
That was a good idea.
While Piper set things up, Marcus said, “Help yourself to anything you want.”
She knew he meant the fridge and pantries but she mischievously thought...how ‘bout you? A heaping helpful of Marcus would fulfill her cravings real nice.
What was wrong with her? Stop thinking about him in that way, she chided herself. But the other night while they danced, she wasn’t so drunk as to be unaware of that look he had in his eyes—he wanted her too. And she could swear he was about to kiss her; it wasn’t just a dream.
Okay, so maybe there was something between them, but right now, there were more important things at hand than swooning over Marcus, so she quickly put those thoughts aside.
“I want to check my emails and the forum.” Once her laptop booted up, she logged in.
Marcus had gone into his room to shower. He preferred showering before bed rather than in the morning—he liked to fe
el clean under the sheets.
Piper, on the other hand, showered in the mornings. For her it was a waker-upper with starting her day—coffee just wasn’t enough.
There was a message from Gina and Joe. She read Gina’s first.
‘OMG! We are so not safe here! I’m leaving Rosiville until this troll is caught. I called my sister in Greenhaven and I’ll be staying with her and her husband for now. I’m not waiting for the morning; I’m leaving tonight. You should get the hell out too, Piper!’
Piper couldn’t blame Gina for leaving town, although she didn’t think it wise for her to blurt out where she was going and whom she was staying with. Of course, she could trust Piper, but who knows whom else she had told. Greenhaven was a three-hour drive from Rosiville so would the troll go to such lengths to still go after her? She hoped not. Piper prayed Gina would be safe.
As far as Joe went, he didn’t mention anything about leaving, but he had a wife and family living with him, so hopefully he’d be a hard target to get at. But never underestimate a psycho because anything was possible.
‘I’ll be ready for him. I’ve got my shotgun.’
She hoped Joe wasn’t about to get trigger-happy and shoot some innocent person. The threat of this troll could make Joe shoot first and question it later. She wondered if she might become trigger-happy herself. Getting killed was definitely a strong factor, but being tortured first was an even bigger motivator.
She managed to convince herself that Gina and Joe would be safe, but Lloyd worried her. He lived alone, and with Gina gone, he was probably next on the hit list.
As for the troll, he still hadn’t posted on the forum so there was no further news about Amy. However, viewing his posts wasn’t exactly a good thing that she looked forward to because everything he shared was bad news.
Piper sent her laptop into sleep mode and closed the cover. As she headed towards the hallway bathroom, Marcus rounded the corner and they collided, but not enough to send anybody flying which would’ve undoubtedly been her.
She let out a squeal of surprise and her hands instinctively shot out in front of her, resting upon his hairless chiseled chest—he was shirtless, wearing only dark gray boxer shorts.
His hands instinctively grabbed her arms to steady her.
“You scared the hell out of me,” she said as her heart rate quickened to double-time. Of course, she knew it wasn’t his fault, but it was a kneejerk blurt.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to send your heart racing,” he said. His hazel eyes gazed at her with amusement.
Man, was that an understatement. Aware and embarrassed that her hands were still on his pecs, she abruptly dropped them to her sides. Heat flushed her face.
“I–I–I was just going to the bathroom,” she muttered, trying to appear cool as though his gorgeous bod hadn’t fazed her. Unfortunately, she couldn’t hide her stutter.
It had been a while since she’d seen him bare-chested and he seemed more buffed than she remembered. That was fine by her, although it would make it harder to control her gaze. Why did he have to look so damn sexy? Being around him every day was going to send her libido into overdrive with only her hand to relieve her. That sucked.
“So I take it he didn’t post?” he asked.
“No, he didn’t. I heard from Gina and Joe though. Gina’s left town.”
“She’ll be safer away. You didn’t hear from Lloyd?” He doubted the perp could have gotten to Lloyd so soon after Amy, but there was no underestimating this troll. For all he knew, the perp could’ve grabbed Lloyd before Amy.
Piper shook her head.
There was an uncomfortable silence between them as they stood so closely face-to-face with nothing more to say.
Marcus broke the silence. “Guess you better get to the toilet before you spring a leak,” he teased.
“I’ll have you know my faucet does not spring leaks.” Piper sidestepped him and headed down the hall. At the bathroom door, she turned to see him still standing where she’d left him—he had been staring after her. She wondered what his thoughts were.
Her mood turned somber again. “Marcus, I feel like we should be out looking for Amy. I can’t just go to sleep knowing she’s out there somewhere in the clutches of that psycho.” Thoughts of Amy brought tears back to her eyes.
“Where would we look? We have no leads yet on this perp. We need something to go on to pinpoint his whereabouts.”
She knew he was right, but how could she do nothing? The victims were her friends, and not being able to do anything to help them was driving her crazy.
“Goodnight,” she said in a defeated voice, almost that of a sigh. Marcus’ reasoning won out over her need to take off down the road, knocking on every door in Rosiville looking for answers.
“Goodnight, Piper.”
She closed the bathroom door.
After she was done with her bathroom business, Piper walked across the hall to her bedroom. She left the door slightly ajar so Cotton could come and go as needed. Piper looked down upon Cotton. She was already sound asleep in her doggie bed. As Piper undressed, she heard Marcus’ bedroom door close.
Piper wasn’t looking forward to what tomorrow would bring—she had a ghastly feeling there would be a video at some point. Marcus was wise to want to bring in the FBI; they definitely needed help on this one. Their police department was too small and inexperienced with handling a serial murder case to go it alone, especially when the kidnaps and killings were happening so fast.
She prayed the FBI could make a difference because even with their help, there were no guarantees—the Feds had their share of unsolved cases.
She’d ask Marcus if she could tag along tomorrow. She knew he wouldn’t deny her. Besides helping with the case, he’d probably feel she was safer with him anyway.
As Piper tossed and turned in her bed, the troll posted their latest snuff video.
Chapter 18
“Piper, wake up,” Marcus’ voice echoed in her ears as her mind groggily awoke to consciousness.
He shook her body to assist in rousing her.
“What’s wrong?” she said as she sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes. The trepidation in his voice told her this wasn’t a courtesy wakeup call.
“Mara just called. She said another video was posted.” Mara was the officer Marcus assigned to monitor Piper’s forum.
Piper’s mouth felt as though a dump truck trashed it and was in dire need of a toothbrush to cure her morning breath. Unfortunately, Marcus’ urgency required she put her hygiene on hold, so she flung herself out of bed and followed him to the kitchen nook to access her laptop.
After logging in, she scrolled to the troll’s post. Her eyes gazed up and sought Marcus’ as he stood next to her, awaiting the atrocity they knew was to be Amy’s snuff film.
“You don’t have to watch it,” he told her. But like the last two times, he knew she would, she had to, even if it tore her up inside.
Piper clicked the play button.
When it was over, tears rolled down her face.
Marcus felt choked up as well.
Witnessing Amy’s suffocation squeezed both their hearts.
Her gut twisted. “Marcus, the troll has killed them with methods depicted from each of their WIPs.”
“What’s a WIP?”
“Work In Progress.”
“So what you’re saying is that the perp killed each of them in the same way their story victims were killed?”
“Yes. At our critique meetings we did some readings and those were the murder types they were using in their storylines. Kerri was electrocuted, Saul had his tongue cut out, and Amy died of suffocation. It didn’t dawn on me earlier because the troll isn’t doing them exactly the same.”
Marcus gave her a look that conveyed he needed more clarification.
“For instance, Kerri’s victim wasn’t electrocuted in a tub but in a swimming pool, Saul’s victim had his tongue eaten by a starved rat, and Amy’s victim suffocated with a plastic bag
over his head.”
Marcus’ expression dimmed as though a dark cloud passed over his face. “And how does your victim die?”
She sucked in a deep breath and immediately exhaled. “Decapitation.”
Good God.
Cotton pranced around Piper’s bare feet begging for attention. Without thinking, she bent over and picked the Pom up.
Unfortunately (or perhaps ‘fortunately,’ depending on your bias on the matter), this gesture caused her cotton candy pink short-sleeved sleepwear to drop open at the low-scooping neckline, exposing a generous helping of unharnessed flesh to the unsuspecting Marcus.
His eyes almost bugged out of his head.
He had already been trying not to be hot and bothered by her curvaceous body that the thin sleepwear just barely left to the imagination. Not to mention, how the short hemline brought her succulent thighs into his sightline as she sat there so innocently.
But this was not the time to be indulging in carnal thoughts, so he suppressed his desires as best he could—which any strapping young man with a high testosterone libidinous appetite can tell you—wasn’t easy.
When Piper looked up at him, she wondered why his face seemed so flushed. She hadn’t a clue of what an eyeful he’d just had.
“Are you feeling okay?” she asked him, thinking he might be coming down with a fever.
“Yeah. Why?” He wondered why she asked him that. Did he not look okay?
“Your face is flushed.” She stood up with Cotton in her arms and touched one hand to his forehead. “Hmm, you don’t seem to have a fever.”
Knowing the culprit responsible for the sudden rush of blood to his face—and umm, to another part of his anatomy that won’t be mentioned in detail—he gently removed her hand and said, “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”
The last thing he wanted was to have to explain to her the shortcomings of her nightwear when bending over.
She could see he seriously wanted to drop the subject so she obliged; if he said he felt fine, she wasn’t about to believe otherwise.