by Amie Gibbons
Chapter four
“What’s wrong?” Grant asked as I sat at my desk.
“That obvious, sir?” I said.
“Ariana.”
“Nightmare.” I shrugged. “Well, not really, more weird. Truck and Collins were there and we were all chattin’ in the woods. It felt perfectly normal. And then I was in the middle of a giant rose and Collins was pissed.” I shook my head. “Am I talkin’ to Truck again today?”
“Yes.”
I sighed.
“Can you do this, Ryder?” Grant asked, holding a folder out to me.
I took and opened it. About ten pages. I flipped through them. All flyers of missing people, from sixteen to thirty. They each had a picture and basic info on who and where and when they disappeared.
“Don’t know till I try.” I shut the folder and took a long drag of latte, then put on my most dazzlin’ smile. “I’m ready for my play date with the psycho, General.”
“You think you’re cute, don’t you?”
“Oh, I know I am.”
I finished my caffeine, set up in interrogation just like yesterday, and waited in the viewing room. When they pulled Truck in and chained him up, he smiled at the glass, just like yesterday.
“He’s magic, sir,” I said. “I can feel it.”
“Me too,” Grant said, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “I already told the higher ups at the prison so they know to ward it.”
“Ward it? Why… oh my God! You think he could get out?”
Cold zipped down my spine.
“I’m not willing to risk it.” Grant nodded at the door.
Right. Showtime.
I swallowed and walked into interrogation on my own.
“Hello Arrrr....eeeee ahhhna,” Truck said in a low creepy voice, over-pronouncing my name so it had four solid syllables.
I froze, blinking, and he laughed. He had a nice, next-door neighbor laugh.
“You’ve never seen Silence of the Lambs?” he asked in a normal voice. “Come on, everyone’s seen that.”
Ohhhhh, he was doing an imitation.
“I did actually,” I said, grippin’ the folder like a life raft. “And if you’re about to tell me to put the lotion in the basket, you can save it.”
I put the folder on the table and held up my hands so he could see the lines on my dry skin. It’s ridiculous during winter, but the tons of AC in the summer is almost as bad.
“No lotion. See, I’m all scaly.”
“Like a snake,” he said, laughing.
Ice slipped down my throat straight into my stomach.
No. Way.
It was a coincidence. There was no way.
He laughed again and my stomach clenched.
I wasn’t takin’ my eyes off him for all the biscuits in the South. For all I knew, I could get visions in my sleep and it was warnin’ me about him.
I wanted to grab my subconscious and yell, “No duh!”
I pulled the first picture out of the file folder.
“You know her?” I asked, tapping the picture.
She was a senior at Lipscomb when she went missing almost ten years ago. She had shoulder-length black curls and dark brown eyes.
He looked. “No.”
Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.
I could’ve touched him, but something told me he was tellin’ the truth.
I pulled out the next and put it down. This one was a bottle blond who was a lab researcher in one of the Vanderbilt labs who went missing four years ago.
“Oh yeah, Alison. I knew her.”
I flinched. I didn’t want to know, but wow, that was easier than I thought.
“And where did you find her?” I asked.
“Walking to her car on campus late one summer night,” he said. “Cute little thing. Is everyone in your family so small?”
I stood and walked around behind him. “We could talk about me. But I’d rather talk about her.”
“Why not both?” he said. “I’ll answer a question, then you answer one.”
I nodded. “Deal.”
“Well, I just said where I found her, so you’re next.”
“Okay. No, I’m the shortest in my family. I have a sister that’s only about an inch taller than me, but everyone else is more average size, and the guys are all average to tall. Where is she buried?”
“Wow, going right for it.” He sounded impressed. “I’m usually a fan of foreplay, but I did agree. Woods, little outside my family farm.”
“That’s not specific enough to find her.”
“No, but I couldn’t give you coordinates.”
“Can you tell me some sort of marker or how far it is from the farm?”
He nodded. “Sure. About half a mile north of the farm, then you have to get out of the car, walk into the woods about a minute. Close enough?”
I almost glanced over my shoulder.
But stopped myself.
Nope, not doin’ it.
My phone buzzed and I glanced at the text.
It was from Grant. “A team’s headed out. Keep going.”
Truck smiled. “There’s already somebody heading there, huh?”
“Yes, there is. And I believe that was another question of yours, so I get another.”
He laughed. “Oh, you’re good. Next?”
I pulled the next photo out. This one was a teenage boy who disappeared from MBA, a fancy private school, three years ago. “Know him?”
Truck shook his head. “No. Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Yes, I do.”
Next photo.
We went on through all of them, no one else was one of his victims.
For some reason, every time he said no, I believed him.
He asked about my boyfriend, my past, my hobbies. Stuff you’d talk about with a girl over drinks. Didn’t ask anything inappropriate or dirty even.
“Do you just want to tell me who else you killed and where you buried them?” I finally asked.
“Pfffff, no way, too easy,” he said.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Why don’t you ask what you really want to know?”
I met his eyes. “I am.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Fine. What do you think I want to know?”
“You want to know how I did it all. You want to know where the money came from, and where the records went.”
I could feel the emotion bleeding onto my face, showin’ him everything he wanted to know.
A slow grin spread across his face.
“Yeah.” Truck nodded. “It’s the one piece of the mystery none of you can figure out.”
Grant told me not to bring up the money at all, but Truck was the one who brought it up, so it’s not like it’d give away anything else.
Right?
“I’m all ears,” I said.
He laughed. “Oh, sweetie, I’m not giving it up that easily.”
“What do you want in exchange?” I asked.
His grin didn’t change but something in his eyes did.
Uh-oh.
What had I said?
He held out his hands and shrugged. “I’ll have to think on it. Tomorrow then?”
“It’s Friday.”
“And?”
“And I don’t work weekends unless it’s a hot case.”
He gestured at himself. “What’s hotter than a serial killer?”
I covered my mouth.
No, no way. I would not laugh at the psycho’s joke.
“Trying not to laugh, aren’t ya?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, you’re kinda funny.”
He held out a hand as far as he could reach with the cuffs keeping him bound to the table and I leaned over to shake it.
He was being cooperative, may as well humor him.
Flash.
The beautiful young woman woke up on that same hard cellar floor, her large eyes blinking as the drug wore off.
The door at the t
op of the stairs opened and fear flooded her.
“Do you need some food?” Truck asked as he walked down the stairs holding a tray with a bottle of water, a plate of bacon and eggs, and an apple.
He set the tray on the table that wasn’t there in the last vision. The room was spruced up in other ways. There was a large squishy leather recliner tucked into the corner on a bright yellow rug, two simple chairs around the table, and a TV set up on a stand.
“Now, Melissa,” Truck said, “we’re going to play some games. If you cooperate and do your best, you’ll live. Do you understand?”
He kept his distance as the girl found her feet and glared at him. “You kidnapped me?”
“Yes.”
“And if I don’t play, you’ll kill me?”
“Yes.”
“Bring on the games.” She stared him down.
He nodded and pointed to the tray. “First, you need to eat. After all, breakfast is the most im-”
She lunged at him, sweeping around in a vicious roundhouse, and clipped his arm as he jumped back.
He pulled a gun out from behind his back. It must’ve been tucked into his slacks.
“Very impressive.” He smiled as she froze. “You just passed the first test. Now, eat.”
“But...how...you...” She took a deep breath.
“Please, I’ve studied you, I know you’re a black belt. That’s part of the fun. Do as you’re told.”
She crossed her arms and sat down even as her stomach growled. I felt Truck’s glee as he imagined how he’d break her.
The vision jumped with another flash of bright white light.
“What are you doing?” she asked as Truck stood less than a foot away.
She looked the same as before. No bruises, no cuts. She was recently bathed and wearing clean clothes.
He hadn’t done much to her, just sat and watched movies with her, making sure to keep the room between them and one eye on her at all times.
He’d brought her books and got her talking about them. She was a fan of murder mysteries just like he was.
It’d taken her two weeks to chat with him. Only a few days after that to laugh at his jokes.
“I don’t know,” he said, leaning forward.
When he kissed her, she kissed him back.
Something swept through him. Some emotion he didn’t understand.
He wanted to let her go, to see if she’d stay.
He wanted to keep her.
So, he pushed her away.
And the pain in her eyes as she met his made his chest tighten.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “You kissed me!”
“You kissed me back,” he said.
He glanced at the stairs. He could let her go.
No, not an option.
He pulled out the gun and shot her straight through the head.
I pulled from the vision, lurching back so fast I stumbled and fell on my butt.
I pushed up and Truck stared at me, mouth half open. “What did you…?”
I hightailed it outta there.
I slammed the door behind me.
“Ryder!” Grant said soon as the door shut. “You took his bait on the money, dammit.”
“No, no, this… I got another vision. This guy is way more messed up than we thought, General,” I said, explainin’ the vision the best I could.
“Melissa McCord,” Grant said. “She was one of his victims they found in his dumping ground in Georgia.”
“I swear, he had her up here, General. It was that same cellar.”
“So why take her to Georgia with him?”
“I think he loved her. I got the impression he left that place after her and that’s why he started going after people in other states. I think he fell for her and he killed her because of it.”
“Maybe, but it doesn’t tell us who else or where they’re buried. And we still don’t know about the money.”
“I know, I’m sorry, sir,” I said. “I touch him and keep gettin’ things, but I can’t see that. It’s just not coming up. I don’t know what to do besides keep trying with him.”
He rubbed his face with both big hands. “Yeah.”
“What game is he playing, sir? Why is he cooperating now? I mean, there’s literally nothing in it for him.”
“I don’t know.”
“Should I go back in there?” I asked. “I want to… I don’t know. I kinda want to ask him about all that.”
“No,” Grant said, pulling out his phone and typing in something quick. “Let him hang.”
“Ariana!” came from the room.
We turned and Truck was staring straight at us through the glass.
“I know you can hear me in there,” he said. “What’s with the running out? We were getting along so well.”
Two agents walked into our room and Grant nodded at them.
They opened the door and went into interrogation, unlocked Truck, and strapped his hands behind his back.
Truck’s gaze never left the glass.
“Did you enjoy it, sweet girl?” Truck asked, pullin’ against the agents. “Can you feel it?”
My heart rate picked up and my head went all swimmy.
“Sir?” I whispered.
“I know you’re in there, Ariana,” Truck said as the agents pulled him towards the backdoor. “Did you feel the power? Did you enjoy it? Have you figured it out yet?”
“Figured out what?” I whispered.
“Or is it more like you’re them when you do that?” Truck continued. “Feeling what it’s like to be under me. I think you’d like it. You feel like a girl who likes to be dominated.”
My stomach dropped.
He laughed as another agent came in from the back, holding the door open so the two could muscle him out.
“God, Ariana,” Truck said, still grinnin’, “I expected better of you. Expected you to get it. You’re psychic. Can’t you see it?”
“Move it,” one of the agents said.
“Oh yeah, I almost forgot,” Truck said. “The grass is always greener on the other side.”
My legs gave out and he chuckled as the agents yanked him out.
“See you tonight, beautiful!” he called.
Chapter five
I curled into a ball, sobbing.
It was real. It was all real.
He was magic. He’d actually been in my dream and could do it again.
“Ryder,” came out of nowhere.
I jerked, looking up, shakin’ so hard my teeth chattered.
“Ariana?” Grant said, kneeling in front of me.
“Sir, he’s magic. He was in my dream last night. And he said he’ll be back.”
Grant paled. “Are you sure?”
“He said that phrase in the dream, and he said it to me today so I’d know it was real. Sir, this isn’t Silence of the Lambs, it’s freaking Nightmare on Elm Street. I can’t even think right now. I can’t move. I won’t be able to sleep. He’ll get me, sir.”
My whole body shook as the cold metallic taste of fear zipped through my tongue and my stomach roiled.
I just needed to freak out, to get it out of my system. I’d figure this out. I’d keep him out. I just needed to freak so I could think.
“No, he won’t.” Grant pulled his gun out and walked into interrogation.
I stood up just in time to see him disappear through the backdoor.
What was he…? Oh crap!
This was what I got for being a big blubber baby.
“Sir!” I ran after him.
I hit the hall as shouts filled the air and two of the agents held Truck while the third stood between him and Grant.
“Get out of the way, DiCianni,” Grant said, gun pointed down.
“I can’t do that, sir,” DiCianni said. “We can’t go killing prisoners. You’ll go to prison for murder.”
“I can live with that,” Grant said, meeting DiCianni’s eyes.
I could tell the second he did cuz DiC
ianni went ramrod straight and stumbled back a step, the sheer force of Grant’s personality sucker punching him.
“I can’t live with it, sir!” I said, running up next to him. “He has rights. You kill him? You’re the one who’ll be on trial.”
“I know a good lawyer.”
“You’ll be the poster boy for police brutality and violators of rights, everywhere in America.” I pointed at him. “And we still need him. Sir, you know you can’t do this.”
He growled under his breath and put away his gun.
“Really?” Truck asked. “That’s what got him?”
“You be quiet,” I said, shakin’ my finger at him. “And stay outta my head.”
“I can’t do that. You’re way too much fun.”
“Oh, bless your pea-pickin’ heart,” I said, laying on the accent and smiling sweetly.
“I’m from around here. I know what that means,” he said. “We’ll see what comes out of your mouth when I’m inside you.”
Grant reached for his gun again.
“Sir!” I grabbed his wrist. “We’ll hit that shop the Senator mentioned. We’ll get something to block him. He’ll go back to prison.” I turned a glare on the psycho. “And he’ll rot there, at least until they put a needle in his arm.”
Grant fixed his eyes on the agent still blocking his way. “Marco DiCianni, move out of my way.”
The agent moved to the side, shock obvious.
We still don’t understand exactly what Grant’s powers are, or even if the commanding is magic and not just him, but when he looks someone in the eyes and tells them to do something, it’s like he’s focusing his mind into a solid hand makin’ them do it.
“Jeramiah Benjamin Truck,” Grant said very quietly, looking the psycho in the eyes, “you go after my agent psychically again, I don’t care who is in the way, I will take you from them, throw you in a hole, and run my own little experiment.”
The sheer force of his will bore down on Truck, but I felt it crawlin’ up my body like I was getting waves of backwash.
Truck laughed, a crazy peel that bubbled up from deep and made my arm hairs stand on end.
“That’s impressive,” he said. “I’ve never met a man who can do that better than me. You’re good, but it won’t save your little girl from me. You could put me in any hole you want, and I’d still crawl out every night to visit whomever I wanted in their dreams. Inhibitions are lowered in dreams. The subconscious takes over. I’ll fuck her in her dreams and it’ll feel as good as real life. For both of us.”