by L. L. Soares
And it had struck her as almost funny that Colleen had watched them fucking through the keyhole. Yeah, she’d sensed that and she knew it wasn’t the first time Colleen had peeked through that keyhole at her. She’d been tempted to call her on it, to embarrass her, but she didn’t care enough to take it that far.
Let her watch, Viv thought. Maybe she’ll learn something.
And what did Colleen think watching Viv fuck her own brother? It didn’t really matter very much, did it? Who was she going to tell? Jeremy? After Viv had caught her kissing Grif? Probably not. Her secret was safe. Not that it was much of a secret. Viv wasn’t one to feel that she had to answer to anyone else. If Colleen had problems with what she saw, what she spied on, then fuck her.
Viv got up and opened her trunk. She took out some underwear and jeans. Then she went to the closet to get a shirt.
She stared at the mattress on the floor. At Grif, with his head on a pillow.
One of his eyes opened. He smiled.
“God, that was the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a long time,” he told her.
“I’m glad. It was getting late, but I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Afraid that I might leave?” he said, sitting up.
“You said you couldn’t stay long.”
“Yeah, I better move on. But it was nice to be here. With you. You know, there’s a freedom I have with you, that I can’t share with anybody else on the planet.”
“I know,” she said, realizing this was the first time he’d ever tried to put it into words. She’d put it into words a hundred times before, in her head. Maybe he had, too.
Maybe she didn’t give him enough credit for smarts.
“Thanks for letting me stay here,” he said. “Were you going to take a shower?”
“Yeah.”
“Mind if I join you?” he asked, staring across the big room at the bathroom door. That was one thing really nice about staying in Jeremy’s house. She had her own bathroom.
“Why not?” she asked and smiled.
He rose naked from the mattress and walked over to her. He took her in his arms.
“I really love you, Viv,” he said. “I know I hardly ever say it, and I know I must really seem like a total fuck-up to you. But I share a bond with you that I can’t with anybody else.”
“I know.”
She’d planned to chastise him when he woke, for toying with Colleen the night before, especially since it could have hurt Jeremy. But now, with him close, she only wanted to enjoy his being here while it lasted. He would be gone soon, and she would miss him again, despite herself.
She led him into the bathroom and turned on the shower.
* * *
Ben Carroll sat at the back of the bar, drinking a beer. It was only the middle of the day, but he’d already started drinking in earnest. There used to be a time when he cared whether anyone could smell it on him, but those days were long past. If he got too drunk, he’d just call in sick.
He looked around for the blonde from the night before. The one with the short, punky hair. She’d been with a guy then, or else he would have approached her. He’d seen her here before a few times, and he’d seen her leave with other people. Men and women.
He found himself thinking, When will it be my turn?
Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.
He looked down into his beer, at the swirling islands of foam, and he wondered about what had brought him here so early in the day. Why he felt so defeated lately.
There was this philosophy that when you’re green at this job, you’re not prepared for the kinds of things you will see. And over time, your skin gets harder, your stomach gets stronger, and you’re able to handle anything that comes your way.
But that wasn’t always the case.
For years, Ben seemed to get harder. To handle more. To get through bloody crime scenes and random atrocities without losing his humanity too much. He could even remember a time when it didn’t make him sick; when it made him angry. And the anger was the fuel that kept him going.
But the anger was an ember that had long since died out. The tough hide had shed itself. All that was left was the sickness. The horror.
I can’t do this anymore, he thought. I’m going to take early retirement and get out of this shit.
Right after this case is over.
The sheer numbers made him think of old newsreel footage he’d seen of the concentration camps. But this was different. It was happening now, and under everyone’s noses, and nobody seemed to know how or why? There wasn’t a Dachau you could go to, to find the killers. No death trains whistling into the night.
How were so many people being systematically slaughtered?
He thought of the mass grave in the park. It was difficult to believe someone dismembered all those people and buried them all together in pieces. And yet, he’d seen the proof of it. How much bigger was it than what he’d seen?
And did one man really do all this? It had to be the work of more than one person. Even after listening to the eyewitness accounts of the Shredder, he found it hard to believe just one killer did this all by himself. And why couldn’t any of the witnesses describe him? How could a mass grave fill up in a public park, totally undetected, until now? Until a man’s dog found a human ass cheek, leading to the discovery of the horrors.
All his years on the force, building a tough skin, were meaningless in the face of this.
Some of the others he worked with were able to maintain their composure. He’d tried his best as well. But it was getting harder and harder.
He drained his beer, caught the waitress’s eye and signaled for another. It didn’t take very long. He was one of the few customers at this time of day, and she would glance in his direction now and then, anyway.
Will I go back to the office today? Will I respond if I get another call on the radio about another murder scene?
The waitress put a fresh glass in front of him, took the empty one away. He asked her for a Scotch this time, to go with the beer.
And why did he keep thinking about that psychiatrist, Sam Wayne? Aside from being the doctor of two of the victims, nothing else linked him to the crimes. Yet, something about him would not let Ben Carroll forget about him. The first time they’d met had been in the morgue, when Wayne had identified his dead wife. Even then, something strange about the man set off his radar.
The second time, in Wayne’s office, it had been even worse.
Why?
I need to do some more research on Mr. Wayne, Carroll thought. Maybe he is involved in this, somehow.
Ben Carroll had learned to trust his instincts. A couple of times, they’d led to dead ends, even though he was sure he was right. Sometimes, the pieces just don’t add up, no matter how sure you are.
But he had to solve this one. It wasn’t like the rest.
It was bigger than them all. And it would keep getting bigger, until it was stopped.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
“Let me go,” Charlie said.
Dr. Wayne just stood there, near the doorway, staring down at the floor. Charlie was tempted to shout again, but the last time he did, the shrink had struck him hard across the face and threatened to put the gag back on.
Charlie hated the gag. And he hated being tied to a chair like this. The ropes were so tight, he could barely move at all. His legs were starting to go numb.
It was obvious his comfort was not on Wayne’s agenda right now.
“Why did you bring me here?” Charlie asked. Trying to keep his temper in check, because it would not help him here.
The man looked up at him. He looked as if he really wanted to say something, but the
words wouldn’t come out.
Dr. Wayne started walking toward him. Slowly. As if it was something he didn’t want to do.
Charlie looked around at the trash-strewn floor, the graffitied walls. Where is this place? he wondered. And how long have I been here?
“Why can’
t you tell me anything?” Charlie asked. “Why won’t you let me go?”
Dr. Wayne stopped in front of him.
“I can’t,” he said softly.
“Why the fuck can’t you?” Charlie said, his temper flaring up again. He struggled at the ropes, trying to break free. The chair fell over on its side, but he was no closer to freeing himself.
His captor grabbed the back of the chair and put it right side up. Charlie tried to move his head forward and bite him, but there were ropes holding his shoulders back. Dr. Wayne grabbed the gag that hung loosely around his neck and put it back in his mouth. Then he tightened it.
As Charlie struggled, he stared into the man’s face. It was no longer clear to him. It was unfocused, shimmering. Charlie blinked but Dr. Wayne’s face still did not come back into focus.
The man pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around Charlie’s eyes, returning him to the darkness.
* * *
Sam stood there a few minutes, adrenaline rushing through his brain the more Charlie struggled. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He was even shaking slightly.
He could feel himself getting energized.
When it reached a high point, Charlie suddenly went limp. The energy had been sucked out of him. Sam walked out of the room, and locked the door from the outside.
He kept walking until he got outside the house, and he locked the outside door as well.
He felt as if he were walking in a dream. As if he were locking doors inside a dream. Charlie really wasn’t inside this house at all.As he walked to his car, Sam became disoriented, not really sure where he was or how he had gotten here. At least he recognized his car. He unlocked it and got inside, trying to get his bearings. These kinds of things were happening more often, and they were really starting to scare him.
* * *
“So how did things go with your mother?” Jeremy asked, knowing how anxious she had been earlier in the day.
They were in a restaurant at the top of a skyscraper. They had an incredible view from up here. They could see most of the city.
“It went better than I thought it would,” Colleen said, taking the menu from the waiter. “It felt so good to have the upper hand for once.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“You know, the limousine certainly didn’t hurt. And the new clothes. She was really impressed. All these years she’d kept telling me how much of a failure I was. How I’d end up in an early grave and all that.”
“Pretty upbeat, huh?”
“You said it. Well, it was so nice to show her how I wasn’t a failure—and to rub
her nose in it.”
Colleen started laughing uncontrollably. It took a couple of minutes to regain her composure.
“God, you should have seen her face when she opened the door. Her jaw literally droppedl She stared at me, then the limo out front, and she just couldn’t think of the words.”
“Sounds like a success, then.”
“You don’t know how long I wanted to do something like that. My whole damned life. All I ever heard were such negative things, about how I was wasting my life. And then to do that. It felt wonderful.”
Jeremy found himself laughing, too. “So maybe it was good I didn’t go along to take away from your triumph.”
“I know you didn’t want to go, Jeremy. I’d told you such awful things about her, and we’ve only known each other such a short time. I thought it would be unfair to spring her on you so soon. But you should have seen her face. If you’d been there, it would have just been icing on the cake. I know she would have recognized you from the magazines and it would have astounded her to no end. I was only afraid that if you’d gone with me at this point, it would have seemed like I’d arranged it all. Like it was some kind of prank. As it was, she couldn’t stop asking about you.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her you were famous, and wonderful, and the best thing that had ever
happened to me.”
“You really told her that?”
“Of course I did.”
He reached across the table and grasped her hand. He squeezed it.
“You should have seen her. At the end, she couldn’t stop crying.”
“The poor soul.”
“What about all the times she’d made me cry? And those weren’t tears of joy, like hers supposedly were today. No, that woman made my life miserable for as long as I can remember, always crushing me with her words.”
She didn’t tell him about the money she’d given her mother. Not because Jeremy would have disapproved of it, but because she thought it might have sounded sadistic to add how pleased she was to have her mother begging for money for a change. It was a private pleasure she’d decided to keep to herself.
When the waiter returned, they ordered. Or rather, Jeremy ordered for the both of them. He ordered things she had always wanted to try, but never had the luxury of eating before. It was a feast fit for royalty. She could tell he enjoyed ordering it all, almost like he was showing off for her.
An expensive bottle of champagne was the first item brought over, in an ice bucket. The waiter popped the cork for them.
“You know,” Jeremy told her. “You really do look beautiful today.”
She blushed. “Oh, Jeremy.”
She watched him across the table, and remembered something her mother had said, about her being something out of Cinderella. That’s exactly how she felt now. She kept waiting for the clock to strike and everything to disappear. Jeremy, the food, the beautiful clothes she was wearing. She kept waiting to go back to that one-room apartment, waking up to another miserable day.
That life was so far behind her now.
She drank champagne and laughed and ate wonderful foods, and held Jeremy’s hand across the table. It was like something out of a romance novel.
When they were done, Jeremy signed his name in a fancy book the waiter brought over, and then they left. Jeremy had dismissed her limousine before lunch, since there was no longer need for two cars.
“Where would you like to go now?” he asked her, as she walked toward the waiting limousine. “Do you want to stay in the city for a while longer? We could shop, and wait until the nightclubs open.”
Colleen stopped in her tracks. “Oh, my God.”
“What is it?” Jeremy said, noticing the discomfort on her face.
“It’s him, Jeremy,” she said softly. “The guy who killed Turney right in front of me.”
Jeremy turned to look. A man was across the street, walking past them, quickly.
“That man there?”
“Yes, Jeremy. It’s him. I’m sure of it.”
“Well, we can’t let him get away,” Jeremy said. “Let’s follow him.”
“He’s dangerous. Are you sure we should?”
“We’ll stay far enough away to stay inconspicuous,” Jeremy said. He stuck his head into the passenger side window of the limousine. “Can you wait here awhile? We’ll be back as soon as we’re able,” he told the driver.
“Yes, sir.”
“It would be kind of conspicuous to follow him in a limousine,” Jeremy told her. “Maybe we should get a cab instead.”
Jeremy stepped into the street and hailed a cab. She had never seen anybody get one to stop so quickly. Perhaps it was because they were so well dressed. They got inside.
“We’re trying to catch up with someone,” Jeremy told the driver. “So I might have some odd directions.”
“No problem,” the cabbie said. “Which way we going now?”
“Straight ahead,” Jeremy said, “but not too fast.”
* * *
Viv had just seen Grif off at the bus station and was feeling low, so instead of going right home she had the cab drop her off at the bar instead. She’d been there the night before with Grif, but there was a different bartender behind the bar now. A slightly older man than the guy who served drinks at night.
“
I’ll have a shot of tequila,” she told him. “And a beer. Whatever you’ve got on draft.”
The man nodded and went about getting her order.
“Hi,” a man’s voice said not far from her.
She turned. Someone was sitting down her beside her. He looked familiar. Then she remembered. He’d been here the night before, too. He was the depressed guy who Grif had wanted to seduce, until she’d talked him out of it. The one Grif thought was a cop. There was something of that about him, and it made her unsure of how to respond.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” the man said. “My name is Ben. Ben Carroll. I come here pretty often and I’ve seen you here before. I just never got the nerve to come up and talk to you. Until now.”
She saw it then. The wound within him. The ache behind his eyes. It made her relax a little.
“Well, I’m glad you did,” she told him. “I’m Viv.”
He hesitated extending his hand, like he was surprised it was so easy to engage her in a conversation. “Nice to meet you.”
She returned his handshake. “What are you drinking, Ben?”
She noticed he’d brought a glass of beer with him, but it was almost empty. He must have come from one of the tables toward the back.
“I should be asking you that,” he said. When the bartender brought Viv’s glasses over, he insisted on paying, and ordered a fresh beer and Scotch for himself.
“Oh, so you’re a two-fisted drinker, too, are you?”
“Same as you,” he said, and laughed.
“We must be quite the sad pair, sitting here in a bar in the early afternoon, drinking like this.”
“Well, I’m not so sad now that I’ve met you,” Ben said, lifting his glass of Scotch. “Here’s to us,” he said.
They clinked glasses. He downed his Scotch and she downed her tequila.
“So what has you down today?” Ben asked.