by Rita Herron
The clock was ticking.
THE DOOR SCREECHED OPEN, the sound heavy metal against concrete, and Jenny cringed. She was about to meet her abductor.
She clenched her hands, yanking against the ropes for the hundredth time, willing them to break and set her free. At least then she’d have a fighting chance.
But no, her attacker wanted her afraid, vulnerable—to exert his power over her.
Somehow she had to use that against him. Because needing that power meant he was weak inside, broken.
Footsteps shuffled across the floor, the dank smell mingling with perspiration and her own fear. He moved closer, his figure a lone darkness in the midst of the black abyss of the room. His breathing sounded choppy, labored. Nervous or excited?
Bile rose to her throat but she swallowed it back. Had to think like a psychiatrist, not a terrified victim. “Who are you?” she asked, proud that her voice didn’t quiver.
“You’re so smart with all your degrees—haven’t you figured it out, Jenny?”
She frowned at his gruff voice, recognizing the Southern drawl but not quite placing whom the voice belonged to. Not Jamal or Clyde or Carl. Maybe another patient or someone she met recently?
“It’s dark in here, I can’t see your face,” she said, tempering her anger.
A low chuckle rumbled from him, but his tone hardened when he spoke. “After all those long conversations, our private conversations, you should know my voice.”
Long conversations? He had been a patient.
“Come on, Jenny, think, darlin’.” He squatted down in front of her and twisted a strand of hair between her fingers. She smelled his strong cologne, a scent that triggered a repulsive memory.
“I remember you, everything about you,” he said in a husky voice. “The way you smiled at me the first time I walked into your office. The way your eyes flickered with understanding and kindness.” He trailed a finger along her forehead then around her eyes. “You have such kind eyes. Not judgmental. Not harsh or selfish. I knew then that I’d found the one woman in the world who wouldn’t abandon me.”
Jenny forced her voice to be level. “Because the other women in your life did.”
“Yes, but I thought you were different. You promised to be there, to listen, to help me.” His voice rattled. “But then you left me just like they had.”
Felix Brainard. She knew him now, remembered his outburst at their last session when she’d informed him she was moving. Had her dismissal of him triggered him to kill all those women?
“I didn’t abandon you,” Jenny said, hoping to stall him although guilt suffused her. Four women had died because of her. “I simply transferred you to Dr. Ragan.” Because she’d sensed he was developing an unhealthy attraction/obsession to her. But she’d never imagined he’d follow her.
“That man,” Brainard spat out. “He was worthless. And you left me and ran off here to Savannah, then took other men into your care.”
“Is that why you came here, Felix?” Jenny asked quietly.
“You wanted to see me, to talk to me?”
“Yes,” he said, then stroked her face.
A sick chill engulfed Jenny, but she battled a reaction. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of showing her fear—it would only feed his need for power.
“If you want to talk, why don’t you untie me and let’s go someplace more comfortable?”
“I like that idea,” he said, “the part about going someplace comfortable.” He traced a finger along her cheek, the rough pad of his thumb scraping her skin. “In fact we’re going to get real comfortable together, Jenny. Before we say goodbye again, we’ll know every inch of each other.” He licked her jaw. “I’ve been looking forward to it.”
Chapter Seventeen
Raul had phoned the CSI team at Jenny’s and asked them to hold Martin if he showed up, then raced to her house. He spotted Martin’s white utility van as soon as he turned the curve to Jenny’s. He careened into the driveway, parked behind the crime scene van, jumped out and ran up to meet the tech who stood beside the van.
“You were right, Detective Cortez. There were cameras in the house, the living room, bedroom and even the shower.”
Raul clenched his jaw and cursed. He was going to kill this bastard when he got hold of him. “Confiscate those cameras, and make sure no one views them. I’ll do that personally.”
Jordan nodded and went back inside, and Raul strode over to the van. “Mr. Martin, I need you to come with me to the police station.”
Martin’s bushy eyebrows peeled together. “Why? What’s going on?”
“Just come with me, sir. I need to ask you some questions.” He took him by the arm and led the man to his car.
“What’s this about?” Martin asked, paling.
“I’ll explain at the station.”
Martin grumbled but climbed in, clasping his hands together and remaining silent during the ride. When they arrived at the station, Raul escorted him into one of the interrogation rooms, retrieved files of all the Strangler victims.
Sweat beaded on Martin’s face and he’d run his hands through his hair, making the gray tufts stand up in a dozen haphazard directions. “This is about Dr. Madden, ain’t it?”
Raul nodded. “Yes. Do you know where she is, Martin?”
The man shook his head. “No. When I got to her house that other man told me she was missing, that her house was a crime scene.” His gray eyes flickered with worry. “What’s happened to her?”
“I thought you might be able to tell us,” Raul growled.
Martin winced. “How should I know?”
Raul tossed a photo of each victim on the table, and Martin visibly blanched. “Did you know any of these girls?”
Martin’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he worked his throat to swallow. “My God…”
“You did know them?”
He nodded, his color paling. “I…did some work at their places.”
“And you installed cameras in their houses so you could stalk them?”
His jaw went slack. “No…goodness no, I would never do such a thing.”
“You had access to their houses,” Raul said bluntly.
Martin dropped his head forward with a groan. “Yes, but I never installed any cameras.”
“But your son did?”
“My son?” Martin’s voice warbled. “If he did, I didn’t know about it.”
“He was stalking these women,” Raul barked.
“No…” he said in a pained tone. “I mean I didn’t realize it. Hell, I didn’t even know I had a son until a few months ago. When he contacted me, he was hard up for money, for a job, so I figured I owed him and let him help me with the renovations.”
“So you gave him access to these women’s homes?”
Martin pulled at his chin. “I swear I didn’t know he’d installed cameras,” he screeched. “He was good at repairs, the air-conditioning…”
“And when these girls were murdered, you didn’t make the connection?”
“No…” His voice faltered. “I…never thought anything about it. He always left before the women arrived home so they didn’t see him.”
“You didn’t know your son was dangerous?”
Shock strained the man’s craggy features, but he hesitated. “I thought he had problems, but I…I didn’t think he’d kill anyone.”
Raul pounded his fist on the table. “Cut the bull. Jenny Madden’s life is in danger. Your son was a patient of hers in Atlanta, and I believe he’s here in Savannah, that he’s responsible for four women’s deaths and that he has Dr. Madden now.” He gripped the man by the collar of his work shirt. “He’s going to kill her, Martin, unless you tell us where to find him.”
Martin bolted up. “Jesus…I don’t know where he’d go. He didn’t stay with me, only stopped by on the job.”
“Do you have a phone number to reach him?”
Martin nodded, and Raul pushed a pad of paper in front of him for Martin to writ
e it down. Raul tried the number, but there was no answer so he rushed out and asked Black to get the tech team to trace it.
Then he stepped back inside the room, his pulse pounding. “Did your son ever mention another family member or friend? Someone from his past?”
Martin shook his head wildly. “He said he hated his mother for giving him up, that I should have come for him.”
That was Brainard’s motive. The reason he hated women.
“Who raised him?” Raul asked.
“He grew up in an orphanage,” Martin said in a low voice.
“An orphanage here in Savannah?”
He nodded. “Yes. But it’s closed now.”
The blood roared in Raul’s ears. He knew where the orphanage was located. It had been shut down years ago, but the building still stood. Abandoned. Isolated. Off the road and surrounded by woods.
A perfect place to hide. A perfect place to take a victim, because if she screamed, no one would hear her.
“You think of anything else or if he calls in, let me know.”
Raul left him in custody, then rushed from the room. Obviously, Brainard blamed Jenny for leaving him as his mother had.
He had to hurry. He couldn’t let Brainard kill Jenny….
IT TOOK EVERY OUNCE of Jenny’s restraint not to scream as Felix dragged her up the basement steps. A sliver of light wormed its way through the window as he shoved her from the steps down a long corridor which smelled musty and abandoned.
“Where are we?” she asked, stifling a sob as he tightened his hold on her arm.
“I thought you’d want to see where I grew up,” he said in a voice laden with anger. “Where my mother left me like I was a shoe she could just throw away.”
“I know how much that hurt you,” Jenny said.
“You know nothing,” Felix chided. “You say you do, but nobody understands what they did to me here. How horrible it was.”
“I’d like to hear more, Felix. Now that you’re in Savannah, we could set up some regular sessions, start therapy again, one-on-one.”
A howl of sinister laughter echoed from his throat. “We’re going to have some one-on-one, that’s for sure.”
Jenny cringed inwardly. “You want someone to understand you, and I’m trying to do that. But I can’t understand unless you talk to me. Tell me more about your mother.”
“She was cruel and heartless, treated me like crap.” He shoved her along. Cobwebs hung tangled along the corridors, a spider spinning its web on the frosted grimy glass, and paint and plaster was waterpocked and peeling from the walls. Somewhere in the distance, a mouse skittered along the floor, birds screeched from the attic and old pipes clanged and groaned.
Jenny struggled for calm. “Did you have friends here, Felix?”
“Friends?” he said in a grating voice. “Not hardly. I learned to be tough, take up for myself ’cause nobody else cared. We were packed in like sardines, everyone scrapping for food. Junk they gave us tasted like mushy cardboard.”
They bypassed a large common area that held rotting dilapidated furniture, then he shoved her up a flight of steps and into a dormlike room with rows of metal beds.
“See where we slept at night, all lined up like nobodies?”
Gray walls held more cobwebs and dirty handprints from years gone by.
He pushed her down on one of the beds in the far corner. “Even with the other boys, every night when I lay in here, I felt so alone. So lonely I wanted to die.” His rough fingers raced over her face. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.” He rubbed his thumb along her cheek again, sending another shudder through her.
“When I met you, I thought I’d found the one person who wouldn’t leave me.” He rubbed his face along hers.
“All those other girls were just a prelude to you, Jenny. You’re the one I really wanted. And now we’re finally going to be together.”
RAUL SWITCHED OFF the lights to his car as he coasted down the wooded drive to the abandoned orphanage. Keegan was supposed to meet him here for backup, but he couldn’t wait. He spotted the rear end of a beat-up black sedan poking out from behind the back of the building, a concrete structure overtaken by weeds and overgrown bushes. He crept up the steps and checked the front door. Locked.
Cursing, he circled around and jiggled a basement window open. Wielding his gun, he crawled inside, tearing away cobwebs as he dropped to the floor and inched his way through the basement. It was enough. When he made it to the stairs, he eased up them. The area was dark, yet the door open enough so that a faint beam of light spilled through a small window above the two-story foyer, so high above the floor it was unreachable. He paused to listen, wondering where in the hell Brainard had Jenny, then heard a sinister chuckle echoing off the concrete walls on the second floor.
Inhaling sharply against the pungent odor of decay, dust and mildew, he ascended the winding concrete stairs, the threadbare carpet helping to break the sound.
Then Jenny’s voice. “You don’t want to do this, Felix. Let’s just slow down and talk. Remember you signed a contract not to hurt anyone.”
Good girl, Jenny, keep him talking, Raul mouthed silently. Bracing his gun between both hands, he eased around the corner and down the hall. With no electricity and the mausoleum type structure shadowed by hulking old trees, the place was morbidly dark.
“You promised to take care of me, Jenny, but you broke your promise,” Brainard snarled.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, but my mother was sick,” Jenny said softly. “There must have been someone in your life who cared for you. A grandmother? A social worker?”
“They said they did, that they cared, then they deserted me, just like you did.”
“But I didn’t leave you, Felix. And I’m here now and so are you. Let’s start over,”
“It’s too late for talking.” His voice deepened to a growl.
“It’s time for us to get closer, Jenny. I promise I’ll make it good for you. I brought you a cocktail and a new pair of satin panties. I know how you like nice underwear.”
Raul ground his teeth. The damn bastard wasn’t going to touch her. Barely controlling a roar of rage, he lunged into the room. Through the shadows he spotted Jenny lying on a cot, arms tied above her head to the bedposts. The son of a bitch was beginning to tear at her blouse. “Get away from her now, Brainard, or I’ll shoot.”
The beefy man swung around with a fierce growl. “No, you leave or I’ll kill her.”
“I have a gun.” Raul stepped forward, his eyes scanning for a weapon. But it was too damn dark to see.
“Raul…” Jenny whispered. “Don’t shoot, he has a—”
The blast of a bullet drowned her words. Raul’s body bounced backward, pain ricocheting through his stomach, and his legs spasmed, collapsing beneath him as blood gushed from his abdomen.
“Raul!”
Jenny’s cry made his heart clench with a different kind of pain. The muscles in his body protested movement as he fell onto his knees, the room swirling. But he couldn’t lose consciousness. Had to save Jenny.
If he died or passed out, Brainard would finish what he’d started.
Raul had lost one woman he loved—he wouldn’t lose another.
The room swirled again, darkness begging him to enter its welcoming abyss. Free him of the pain. He had to think. Play it smart. Find a way to win against this bastard.
He called Jenny’s name on a groan, then fell forward onto his hands and bowed his head, sucking in oxygen to stem the dizziness.
Thinking he’d won, Brainard reached for Jenny. She screamed as his hands pawed her, and a silver line glinted in the darkness. A needle, the Rohypnol.
Rage rose to his chest, overpowering the pain. Raul lurched forward and ran toward the man. At the same time, Jenny brought her feet up and kicked Brainard in the chest, throwing him backward.
Raul tore him away from Jenny, then threw him to the floor, pounding him in the face and abdomen. Brainard fought back, and the
two of them tumbled and rolled. Raul’s side split with pain, but he crawled forward, latched his fingers onto his gun, then brought it back and slammed it into Brainard’s head. Brainard grunted, then fell backward, his head hitting the metal poles of the bed.
Raul hit him again and again, digging the barrel of the gun into his throat.
“Raul, please stop,” Jenny whispered. “Please don’t kill him.”
Somewhere in the back of his mind, her words registered, pain and fear ripping at his conscience. If he killed Brainard, he wouldn’t get to send him to prison.
Death was too easy and quick for the sadistic sicko.
Grinding his teeth against the pain, he checked for a pulse. Brainard was alive but out cold.
“Raul…please…”
He dragged himself away, the room spinning as he crawled toward her. Blindly he untied her hands and feet, running his hands over her face. “Jenny, God, are you okay?”
“I am now,” she whispered. “But you’ve been hit.”
“I love you,” he said on a choked breath. Then he fell into her arms and the darkness consumed him.
“RAUL!” JENNY SCREAMED and tried to lift him, but blood pooled onto the mattress and he was unconscious. She had to get help.
Suddenly footsteps thundered from below, and Detective Keegan ran in. “Help me,” Jenny cried. “Raul’s been shot.”
He took one look at Brainard on the floor, then Raul and hurried to Brainard and secured him as he called for an ambulance.
Tears streamed down her face, and fear for Raul engulfed her. Raul had whispered that he loved her before he passed out, but she hadn’t said the words in return.
She did love him, but it was her fault he’d been shot. Her fault all those women had died. Her fault…
The detective rushed to her, turned Raul onto his back and saw the blood. Quickly he tore a faded pillowcase off the bed, then pressed it to Raul’s wound.
Outside a siren pierced the air, shrill and coming closer.
“Are you hurt?” Detective Keegan asked.
“No.” She rubbed at her raw wrists dotted with blood themselves, but waved off his concern as she pulled Raul’s head into her lap. He was so pale and ashen looking, and there was so much blood. She loved him so much….