“So he came back not only to kill me,” Jessie said, “but to get his share of the money.”
“Yes. Apparently he thought I had it waiting for him. Only there is no money. The feds took it long ago.”
Jessie glared at him. “Why should I believe you?”
“Why shouldn’t you?”
“Because none of this explains Aaron.”
“I can’t explain Aaron.” John looked up through the bushes to make sure Emil hadn’t returned. “Except . . .
I think, you were right, Jessie. You did manifest him. I tracked down some of the paranormal experts I interviewed for my book The Killing Room. I described the situation here and they convinced me that it was possible. Aaron came back at the same time that Emil did because he wanted to protect you. Your grief and guilt over Aaron kept him alive all this time. His spirit never crossed over. He stayed here, waiting in a way, watching you. As you got stronger and your grief and guilt receded somewhat, he faded into the background. But he was never really gone. And when he sensed you were in danger—that you were being hurt—he came back.”
Jessie felt the tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Emil didn’t bring Aaron back,” John said. “I was wrong about that. He knows nothing about the boy. It was you who brought him back, Jessie. And it’s you who is going to have to send him away.”
“Never,” she whispered. “Not again.”
“Jessie, Aaron has killed a lot of people.”
“No!” she insisted. “It was Emil.”
“I spoke with the FBI earlier today. There’s been no trace of Emil’s DNA at any of these crimes. But what’s clear from all of them is that the killer was small. There’s always a wound made first in the legs or thigh or abdomen. That brought the victims down, so that the killer could slice their throats.”
“That doesn’t mean that it was Aaron. . . .”
“He’s been killing people he thinks have hurt you, or could keep him from you. . . .”
“That’s crazy! Inga never hurt me!”
“Did you have any words with her right before her death?”
Jessie remembered the pique she’d felt, the foolish jealousy, when Inga had gone over to see John. Aaron had been able to sense that. . . .
“But Mrs. Whitman . . . Detective Wolfowitz . . . Ashton and Piper . . .”
“Well, the kids had been rude to you, and besides, anyone connected to Bryan and Heather was going to be fair game if Aaron was trying to defend you. As for Wolfowitz, he’d been hounding you, upsetting you . . . and Mrs. Whitman had insisted that Aaron wasn’t real. She blew his cover, in a way.”
Jessie was crying. “None of this makes any sense. Aaron wouldn’t hurt anyone!”
“What about the night at the barn with Abby? He was trying to kill her.”
“No!” Jessie’s voice was getting loud. “They were just playing!”
“Look, Jessie, the first thing we’ve got to do is get away from Emil. Then we deal with Aaron.”
“No!” She pulled away from him, getting to her feet. “You’re in league with Emil! You have a deal with him! You want me to send Aaron away again and I won’t!”
“Jessie, please be quiet!”
“I’m going to the police!” she seethed. “I’m telling them that you’re involved with Emil! I don’t believe your story! I heard with my own ears that you have a deal with Emil. You’re in league with him. I should have known better than to trust any man again. I’m getting out of here!”
“Jessie, no!”
He reached out for her, but she was too fast.
Jessie bolted away into the woods.
ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-TWO
Aaron and Abby had reached the gorge.
“Sit here,” Aaron told the girl.
Abby obeyed, her little legs dangling over the sheer drop.
“I have something I have to do,” Aaron told her. “Wait for me here. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
“Yes, Aaron.”
The little boy smiled and headed back into the woods.
ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-THREE
John dared not call out after Jessie, fearful he’d draw Emil back to them. Instead he just ran forward through the dark, in the direction he thought Jessie had gone.
He stopped running. He heard something. A snap of a twig.
Was it Jessie?
Or Emil?
He stood very still, on alert.
The woods were utterly and completely dark now. Not a sound from the trees. No wind. No night birds. No owls.
Complete darkness and silence.
It was at that moment that John felt the sharp blade penetrate his side. He pulled back immediately, but it was too late. He felt the warm blood collect under his shirt.
Then, burning through the darkness, he saw the yellow eyes of the boy.
“Aaron,” he said.
The boy pounced. But John was ready. He deflected the boy off of him and sent him thudding into a tree. His little body slid to the ground, collapsing into a heap.
But he was quickly on his feet again, snarling, coming at John, his hands now talons and his teeth as long as a wolf’s.
“What kind of devil are you?” John cried, before turning and running into the woods.
ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FOUR
“Mommy!”
Jessie stopped running. She was breathing hard and fast. The fragrance of the woods filled her nostrils. Old leaves. Moist earth.
And fear. She could smell her own fear. A sweet and sour fragrance, like something rotting.
“Mommy, I’m scared!”
It was Abby. It was definitely Abby’s voice coming through the trees.
But John had told her Abby was safe.
John had lied.
Jessie had been right not to trust him.
“Mommeeeeee!”
“Abby!” Jessie called out, turning and running in the direction of her daughter’s voice. “I’m coming, baby! Mommy’s coming!”
ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FIVE
“Not so fast, Manning! Not so fast!”
Before John could get very far, Emil Deetz burst into view and tackled him to the ground. Rolling through the carpet of dead leaves and moss, John didn’t have the strength to fight him off. The pain in his side was agonizing. He was losing a great deal of blood.
“Here’s for what you did to me in the shack,” Emil snarled, hauling off and punching John in the face, breaking his nose. Blood sprayed everywhere. “I thought we had a fucking deal!”
“You’re a fool,” John managed to say, although his words were garbled from the blood in his throat. “There is no money. It’s gone. I was working with the FBI the whole time. And they’ll be here any moment to pick you up. They’ve surrounded the woods. There’s no way you’re getting out of here.”
Emil sat on John’s chest, glaring down at him. “Well, if that’s true, you fuckwad, then I still have enough time to finish you off. I don’t like traitors. That fucking Screech Solek was a traitor, but you’re even more despicable than he was.”
He removed a long razor from his shirt and pressed it against John’s throat.
“Hello, Daddy.”
Emil’s eyes darted up.
Aaron stood beside them, looking at the two men with wide, innocent eyes.
“Who the fuck?” Emil blurted out.
“Emil Deetz,” John said, struggling for breath, “meet your son.”
ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SIX
Jessie pushed her way through a tangle of bushes and branches and found herself on the edge of Suicide Leap.
Abby stood on the opposite side of the gorge, her frail little figure illuminated by the moon. She was crying.
“Abby!” Jessie called. “Don’t move, sweetie!”
Abby was perched on the exact spot over the chasm that Jessie’s mother always warned her about. Stay away from that spot, Jessie. It’s very steep there. You could fall. Jessie’s eyes looked down into the fifty-foot d
rop of rocks and ragged earth.
Abby held out her arms to her. “I told Aaron I wouldn’t be scared, but I am, Mommy, I am!” she cried.
“Just stay right there, sweetie, and don’t move a muscle! Mommy will come get you!”
“Please hurry, Mommy! I feel like I’m going to fall!”
“Hang on, baby!”
And Jessie began a precarious walk around the rim of the gorge.
ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SEVEN
Emil got up off of John, unnerved by the sight of Aaron, although he still held the razor aggressively in front of him. John quickly got to his feet.
“This ain’t my son,” Emil spit. “I heard that Jessie only had one kid, and it was a girl.”
“You never heard about her partial miscarriage?” John asked.
He noticed that Emil was trembling. He shook his head no.
“Well, she had one,” John told him, “and this is the boy she lost.” He paused, looking over at Aaron. “Only he’s not lost anymore.”
Aaron smiled.
From the distance came the sound of Jessie’s voice, telling Abby she was coming for her. Both men turned in the direction of the sound.
When they turned back, Aaron was gone.
It was just the distraction John needed to sprint off into the woods himself. He was very grateful for the way adrenaline could surge and give someone strength, just at the moment they needed it most.
ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-EIGHT
Jessie lost her footing once, sending an avalanche of pebbles and sand cascading down into the gorge. She gasped but kept from crying out. She didn’t want to alarm Abby.
“I’m getting closer!” she called to her daughter. “Just stay where you are!”
She looked up to make sure the girl was still there. She was, standing across the chasm, her thin little arms wrapped around her shaking body. Even telling Abby to back up, to get away from the rim of the gorge, was too risky, Jessie thought. The girl was perched right on the edge. To move any which way, especially with the way she was trembling, was to risk danger.
What was she doing there on the edge anyway?
“Don’t move, baby!” Jessie shouted. “Just stand perfectly still!”
She took another few steps. She reasoned if she could get back up to the woods, she could move more quickly, and avoid the danger of the edge. Jessie decided to climb upwards a bit. But as she did so, she glanced across at Abby again.
Aaron was now standing behind her.
“Aaron!” Jessie called out. “Aaron, hold on to Abby!”
“Aren’t you worried that I’ll fall, too, Mommy?” Aaron asked.
Jessie stopped in her tracks, staring over at the children.
“Or is it just Abby you’re worried about?” Aaron asked her.
Jessie watched as the boy placed his hands on Abby’s shoulders. In that moment, Jessie knew that Aaron intended to push Abby into the gorge.
She spoke quickly. “Of course I’m worried about you, too, Aaron! I want you both to be safe. Stand there! Don’t move. I’m coming to get you both!”
“Sometimes I think you only care about Abby,” Aaron said, his little voice filled with sadness. “You let her live. You let me die.”
“No! Aaron, I love you! I’m so, so sorry! I want us all to be a happy family together!”
“Abby,” Aaron said to his sister, “we’re going to play a game. We’re going to jump off the cliff. You’re going to go first.”
“No, Abby!” Jessie shouted.
“A game?” the little girl asked, her voice seeming strange and faraway.
“Yes,” Aaron told her. “A fun game. Last time you were afraid to jump. But this time you won’t be, will you?”
“I won’t be afraid,” Abby said.
“No, Abby, no!” Jessie screamed. She began to run toward them, mindless of the rocks giving away under her feet. “Abby, stay right there! Mommy’s coming!”
“Jump, Abby,” Aaron said, as a smile spread across his face. “Jump!”
ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-NINE
Behind Jessie, Emil had snuck up from the woods. He cared little about the drama that was currently unfolding. He had no idea who the boy was. Maybe this Aaron was his son, maybe he wasn’t. It didn’t matter to Emil. He also didn’t care if he pushed the little girl off the cliff. Emil figured she was probably his daughter, but even that didn’t faze him. All he cared about was that he had the chance to kill Jessie. He’d shove her over the cliff the moment he saw the boy push Abby. People would believe she had died trying to save her daughter.
He stepped forward from the trees, his hands out in front of him, ready to topple Jessie to her death. Manning might be right and the cops might be here any minute, but Jessie’s death would sure make up for all the trouble she’d caused him.
ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY
Just at the moment that Abby moved a foot to jump into the dark gorge, John burst from the woods and lunged forward, grabbing the little girl and carrying her to safety.
Aaron screamed in rage. His arms held above him, he levitated several feet into the air over the chasm, his scream reverberating against the rocks like the roar of a lion. Then he gently drifted back to earth, where he whimpered on the edge of the cliff like a lost puppy.
ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-ONE
At that very same moment, Emil leapt on Jessie. But instead of pushing her into the gorge, he lost his footing on the broken rocks and they toppled together.
I will not fall, Jessie vowed to herself, grabbing on to whatever she could to stop her slide into the abyss. Her arms found a sharp outcropping of rock that cut into her side as she clung fiercely to it, but it held firm.
“You fucking bitch!” Emil screamed, still on top of her. He tried to break her grip by banging on her shoulders and arms, and force her over the side, but she held tightly. Her body was like glue to the rock.
“You’re more trouble than you were ever worth,” Emil snarled, pulling out the razor from his shirt and flashing it in the moonlight.
The blade moved toward her throat.
ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-TWO
“Mommy!” Aaron called.
Emil looked up. “You know, kid, if you’re really my son, you’ve got some pretty amazing abilities there. I don’t know how you got ’em, but you and me together could have quite the time. You don’t need these pathetic fuckwads. Help me finish them off!”
“Don’t listen to him!” Jessie shouted. “You’re my son as much as his! You’re not all evil the way he is! I love you, Aaron! And I’m sorry!”
Behind Emil, John was about to leap for the razor.
But Aaron leapt first.
ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-THREE
Jessie watched. As if in slow motion, Aaron leapt across the gorge, soaring through the air like an eagle. Or an angel. His face looked much older than his five years. He looked like a grown man, Jessie thought, the way Emil might have looked, if he hadn’t gone bad.
No, she realized in the split second of time she had, Aaron looked even more different than that. The boy looked ageless, eternal. His eyes were no longer filled with sadness or rage, but resolve. Maybe even a kind of peace.
Without any effort at all, Aaron landed on Emil’s back and took him with him as he plummeted over the edge of the gorge.
ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FOUR
“Jessie!”
John reached her, scooping her in his arms and carrying her away from the cliff.
“Abby! Where’s Abby?” she shouted.
“Right here,” John told her, as he set her down beside her daughter at the edge of the woods.
“Why are you crying, Mommy?” Abby asked.
“She doesn’t remember anything,” John said.
“Why are we out here?” Abby asked again.
Jessie embraced her daughter as all around them the woods came alive with flashing red police lights and the barking of dogs.
“Is everyone okay here?” Chief Walters called, ru
nning up to them, a dozen men following her carrying powerful flashlights.
“You’ll find Emil Deetz at the bottom of the gorge,” John told her. “He tried to kill us all, but Jessie saved herself and her daughter.”
One of the flashlights was shone down into the darkness. Sure enough, there was Emil’s broken body in a pool of blood.
There was no sign of Aaron.
Not that Jessie expected there to be.
EPILOGUE
Jessie watched Abby and her new friends on the swings at the playground off Houston Street. It was good to be back in the city.
Here she could be anonymous. That was good for the author of a bestselling self-help book. It was also good for a woman the FBI publicly thanked for helping to stop a serial killer in his tracks. The media had gone nuts trying to interview her, but Jessie had refused all requests. There was no way she was going to talk about Emil, or anything that had happened.
Of course, the police and the FBI had blamed Emil for all the killings. There was some talk that he might have had a younger—or at least, a shorter—accomplice. But forensics experts determined that the razor found on Emil’s body at the bottom of the gorge had been the one used in all of the killings, though the last victims also had their throats ripped out by what appeared to be teeth—evidence that Emil was psychopathic, the FBI had said. Curiously, however, there was no DNA found on any of the victims, something Chief Walters had found very odd. For a while, she kept trying to find out what had happened to the boy Jessie had taken in. Jessie had just replied that Aaron had gone away; she had no idea where he was. It was the truth. Still, the chief kept insisting that the child had played a role in all of this, even as the FBI declared that Emil Deetz was the sole killer. The evidence against him was overwhelming: the razor, Aunt Paulette’s testimony, and Jessie’s and John’s stories about how Emil had tried to kill them. It seemed clear that Emil was the Sayer’s Brook serial killer. And so the case was closed.
Slice Page 36