by Mel Comley
“How about you, Tamara?”
“Sure, why not.”
~
Alex let Dixie choose the path, and it soon became more of a walk than a jog, with lots of in-between time to sniff.
“So when did he call you?” Tamara asked.
Alex let out the leash with the hope Dixie would run. “How did you know?”
“You’re trying too hard to have a good time. You moved away from Morgan when he joined you at the sink, and you didn’t ask Crimshaw, Frost, or Morgan to go with you just now.”
“He doesn’t want me around other men. I can’t take the chance he’ll think one of them likes me or I like them,” Alex said.
“So what are you going to do about working with Crimshaw?”
“He knows Jacob is my partner, and he’s married. I think as long as I stay away from Reefer or Morgan or anyone else single and attractive, I’ll be okay, and so will they.”
Dixie turned toward the house, having emptied her bladder on every major bush along the sidewalk. “I need to go to the apartment for a few things. Would you come with me?”
“Why don’t you make a list, and I’ll go get it for you.”
Alex stopped at the bottom of the steps leading up to the apartment. “I have to go eventually, Tamara. The only way to fight your demons is to face them. I think you, of all people, know that.”
Tamara unclipped the gun on her belt. “I’ll go first.”
Alex knew it would be useless to argue, and she’d left her gun in the bedroom. She followed Tamara up the steps, holding Dixie.
Tamara opened the door, flipped on the kitchen light, and did a quick walk-through. “It’s clear.”
Alex shivered as she stared at the shriveled rose-petal trail leading to her bedroom. “There are some empty bags under the sink. Why don’t you pack up some of Dixie’s and Cinders’s food? I’ll grab a few things from the bedroom, and we’ll be ready to go. This place is giving me the creeps.”
The bedroom door was open, and the sickening smell of decaying flowers drifted through it. Alex took several deep breaths and made herself walk in. At least he hadn’t raped her. No, he stripped you naked and did God knows what before he left. No matter how many showers I take, I’m never going to feel clean again. Alex studied the room, not surprised Crimshaw had compared it to a funeral parlor. Samael had said he would leave a phone, and the apartment was the most logical place to leave it. It had to be there somewhere, and he would have left a clue only she would recognize.
She crossed to the closet and picked out several outfits she would need for work in the next few days. A white rose had been placed in one of the jacket lapels. Alex grabbed the jacket, tossed the rose on the floor, and left the bedroom. She took hold of Dixie’s leash and headed to the front door. “I’ve got everything I need for the next few days. Let’s get out of here.”
Tamara gathered the bags of food and followed her out. “I know a good cleaning crew, if you want me to call them.”
She considered it for a minute then shook her head. “I need to do it, Tamara, if I ever want to live there again.”
“I’m not doing anything Saturday if you want some help. We could kidnap Gabriella away from her studies, get a case of beer, and make it a girls’ night.”
“Thanks, Tamara. I think I’d like that.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Here, hold this.” Val handed Candy a cotton ball. “Now, place it over the needle. Good girl.” Val pulled out the needle. “Now bend your arm up and hold it for a second.”
“Do you think that’s enough?”
“More than enough to convince them something happened to you.” Val opened the vials and poured them over the backpack.
Rico walked into the lab, carrying a package. “Courier just dropped this off, Dr. Jackson.” He glanced at Candy. “Everything’s ready, Miss Candy.”
Candy flexed her arm, removed the cotton ball, and stood. She didn’t have to ask what he meant by ‘everything’, as the metal tables were now covered in blood. That could have been me. “Good, I’m ready anytime you are.”
Val opened the letter attached to the package and grinned. “We have a new client, so try not to be out too late.” She held out two syringes. “This should keep them quiet for several hours.”
Candy slipped the syringes into her jacket pocket. “If we’re lucky, they’ll both be passed out drunk.”
“Don’t take any chances. Even if they’re passed out, give them a shot so we can be sure they don’t wake up until we want them to.”
Candy grabbed the backpack and followed Rico out the massive metal door. “Where exactly are we, and what was this place?”
Rico opened the car door for her. “A few miles outside the city. Used to be an animal-testing lab until they shut it down.”
She slid into the passenger seat and buckled her seatbelt. “Sometimes when you speak, I hear a slight accent, Rico. Where are you from?”
“You ask a lot of questions, Miss Candy. Why do you want to know?” Rico asked, slipping behind the steering wheel and starting the car.
“We’re going to be spending a lot of time together. I thought I’d get to know you.”
“I came here from England many years ago. Most of my accent is gone, but occasionally, it slips through. Can you drive?”
“Some, why do you ask?”
“If we’re going to take the boyfriend’s truck, you’ll need to follow me back here.”
“No problem.” Excitement coursed through her at the thought of what lay ahead. She hoped they weren’t asleep. She wanted to see her mother’s eyes widen in fear, and Duke, she wanted him to feel pain—excruciating pain.
Rico concentrated on the road, giving Candy time to think. “What exactly did John and Elisa do wrong?”
“They dumped those three bodies in the sewer system instead of burying them like they were told. You make sure you do what Dr. Jackson tells you to.”
“Don’t worry, Rico. I don’t think Dr. Jackson and I are going to have any problems at all.”
His hands tightened on the wheel. “I hope not, Miss Candy. I’d sure hate to have to kill you.”
“But you would if she told you to, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Candy twirled a lock of hair, her mind rolling around her options. How did Dr. Jackson instill such blind loyalty in a man like Rico? The trick, darling, is to only want a man for sex. That had to be it. “So, how long have you known Dr. Jackson?”
“Long enough.”
The trailer park loomed into sight, and Candy breathed a sigh of relief. For once, the place appeared to have shut down early. “It’s the first trailer on the right. There aren’t any lights on, so maybe they’re asleep.”
Rico pulled into the drive next to an old Chevrolet pickup truck and reached for a bag in the backseat. He withdrew two pairs of gloves, slipped his hands into a pair, and tossed the second pair to Candy. “Put those on. I’ll go in first. You stay here for five minutes then follow me in.”
Candy inserted her hands into the gloves and fingered the syringes in her pocket. Like John and Elisa, her mother and Duke deserved what they were about to get. And it wasn’t like Dr. Jackson was doing anything horribly wrong. If she found cures for terminal illnesses, the lives that would be saved would far outweigh the few who died. A sound caught her attention, and she glanced up to see Rico standing in the doorway. He motioned for her to join him. Showtime, Candy.
Rico held the door for her. “They’re both asleep in the bedroom.”
Candy walked toward her mother’s bedroom, disgusted by the general filth of the trailer and even more disgusted by the grotesque nude figures splayed out across the bed. Trash. She stood for a moment, searching her emotions for any feelings toward her mother. She couldn’t remember a single hug, a kiss goodnight, or any words of encouragement. Most of her memories involved slaps, curses, and long nights hiding under the bed. Pulling out a syringe, she removed the needle guard, sho
ved it into Duke’s buttock, and pushed the plunger. He groaned then stilled.
Rico picked him up, tossed him over his shoulder, and headed to the front. “I’ll throw him in the back of the pickup. You’d better hurry.”
She removed the needle guard from the second syringe and plunged the needle into her mother’s arm. Candy waited as her mother’s eyes slowly opened. She smiled as they widened in recognition, then slowly dispensed the medicine. Slap. “Wake up, Mother. Don’t you want to tell me about when you were fifteen?”
The bloodshot eyes opened wider, full recognition and fear setting in.
Candy pushed the plunger and leaned close as the sedative took effect. “If I have a daughter of my own, when she reaches fifteen, I’ll have one hell of a story to tell her.”
Rico returned, picked up Candy’s mother, and headed toward the entrance again. “Give me five minutes to pack some clothes for them, and we’ll be out of here.” He grunted his acknowledgement as she took a garbage bag and started shoving things into it. They wouldn’t need much where they were going, but it needed to look as though they’d left in a hurry.
“Grab a blanket,” Rico said from the doorway. “If there’s nothing else here you want, we still have work to do.”
Candy picked up the garbage bag and grabbed a blanket from the bed. “Did you put the items in the refrigerator?”
Rico laughed. “Right next to the beer.”
She walked toward him. The strange feeling that had started in her groin when she’d slapped her mother increased into a hot flush that was both pleasant and yet unpleasant. She didn’t like it, because it signified a need, but Dr. Jackson had told her men were for sex. “Rico, would you do anything I asked you to?”
He stared at her for a moment. “As long as it doesn’t hurt Dr. Jackson, yes.”
Candy moved around him and headed for her old bedroom. “Come with me. There’s something I want you to do.”
~
Samael straightened his tie. So far, the return on his investment in the States had been profitable. He hated screw-ups, though, and someone had screwed up. He pulled a pair of gloves from his pocket. Val Jackson was a smart woman, and he’d invested a lot of money in her. His grin widened as a more pleasant punishment came to mind. At least it would be pleasant for him, and perhaps he wouldn’t have to kill her, after all.
He knocked on the door and waited. She didn’t make him wait long, which went in her favor.
“Sam… Mr. Kaur, I wasn’t expecting you. Please come in.”
He stepped into the foyer and waited for her to close the door. “You have a beautiful home, Val.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Her voice had trembled slightly, creating a thrill of pleasure. “A home I believe I paid for and furnished.”
“I’ve done my part.”
His left hand came up quickly, seized her around the throat, and jerked her close to him. “Someone screwed up, and someone has to be punished.”
Her lips parted, her eyes widened, and a small pink tongue appeared between her teeth. “I’ve taken care of it,” she gasped.
Samael removed a rope from his pocket, slipped the noose over her head, and pulled it tight before removing his hand. He yanked on the rope, dragging her with him to the living room. “Get on your knees.”
Val complied. “I have someone coming in a few minutes.”
“You have such a lovely face, Val. It’s truly a shame I have to punish you.”
Her eyes widened again. “Rico and a young girl I’m training. They’ll be here any minute.”
He tightened the rope around her throat and pulled out a scalpel. “If I were you, Val, I’d hold still. The damage I’m about to do might be repaired in time, but if you move too much, I could miss my target and injure an eye.”
“Please, I’ll do anything you ask.” She moved in against him, reaching for his belt. “I can be good to you.”
The scalpel slashed down her cheek, and she screamed and jerked, pulling the rope tighter around her throat. “You think I want sex from you? My brother’s whore?” He fought the urge to tighten the rope around her neck, closed his eyes, and brought up the image of his beautiful Foxy, so pale and lovely stretched out on the bed. She was the only woman he ever wanted to be intimate with again. He’d enjoyed undressing her and running his tongue over the tiny nipples. Choking sounds came from Val’s mouth, and he slapped her hard then shoved her away from him.
He stared down at her for a moment. He should kill her anyway for interrupting his thoughts. “Be glad I still need you.” He whistled as he headed for the front door. Soon, my lovely, Foxy… Soon you’ll come to me.
~
Candy parked the car in front of the lab and waited for Rico to open the front door. A small smile played around her lips. Maybe her mother hadn’t been totally crazy. Her first experience with sex had left her drenched in sweat and energized beyond anything she’d ever experienced. Of course, that wasn’t why she’d done it. Her conversation with her mother had awakened another need—she wanted a child of her own, and she needed a loyal servant like Rico on her side. You’re going to piss Dr. Jackson off. The front door opened, and she climbed out of the car, the heat rising in her genitals at the thought of strapping her mother and Duke to those cold metal tables. Rico had enjoyed sex with her, and she would make sure he continued to enjoy it. She skipped toward the entrance, her excitement increasing. Once she was pregnant, Rico would never let Dr. Jackson hurt her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Tamara rolled over and eased out of the sleeping bag. She grabbed her shoes, gun and purse before tiptoeing to the front door. After closing it softly behind her, she crossed to the swing, slipped on her shoes, and withdrew a pack of cigarettes from her purse. She hadn’t smoked in years, hated the habit, and was sickened the dreams had once again created the need. At least it’s not heroin.
Her hands shook as she brought the cigarette to her lips and lit it. She took a slow drag, breathing in the smoke, then held it until she coughed and spluttered. A tear ran down her cheek, and she brushed it away angrily. A gentle scratching sound came from the door, and Tamara tossed the cigarette, shoved the pack deep inside her purse, and rose. It would be daylight in an hour or two, and the others would be rising. She needed to find a way to convince Reefer to let her ride with Alex without raising his suspicions. Alex would die before she allowed any of them to become victims of the Escape Artist. Samael, my ass. There isn’t anything good about this bastard.
The scratching came again, followed by a whine. Maybe a run with Dixie was exactly what she needed. She opened the door, reached in, picked up the leash lying just inside, and whispered, “Come on, girl.”
Dixie led the way to the park, and Tamara followed, a slight tingling at the base of her spine. It’s the dreams. She paced herself, letting go of the control she’d held so tightly to for the last six years. The first year, there had been no control. The detox from the heroin they’d shot into her every time they brought in a new john had been tough, but the sounds of Penny’s and Amanda’s screams had been the worst. Her hands clenched, and she let out the leash, allowing Dixie to run faster. She’d wanted to drown with them, and she would have if Reefer hadn’t pulled her out.
The catch in her side caused her feet to slow, and Dixie slowed with her, coming to pant at her feet. “I think I overdid it, girl. What say we walk for a while?”
The sound of feet pounding on the pavement spooked her, and she unhitched the gun at her waist.
Reefer jogged up beside her. “Next time, leave a note, okay? I don’t like waking up and finding you gone.”
Tamara shoved the gun into the holster. “Next time, don’t run up on me, or you might get shot.”
Reefer flashed even white teeth. “It wouldn’t be the first time you shot me.”
“I don’t want it to be the last,” she responded, walking slowly around the track. “Coming?”
“Unless you want to be alone.” He walked up alon
gside her on the left and reached for her hand. “I’ll understand if you do.”
She squeezed his hand. “Sometimes I wish you weren’t so damn understanding.”
“That usually means you’re hiding something from me.”
“Do you trust me?” Tamara asked.
“More than anyone else.”
Tamara appreciated his honesty. “I need to ride with Alex for a couple of days.”
“And you don’t want me to ask why?”
She shook her head. “What I need you to do is get the chief to suggest it, so Crimshaw doesn’t ask any questions.”
“I can do that. Is there anything I do need to know?”
Dixie slipped into the grass to do her business. “I took a drag off a cigarette this morning, and I forgot the pooper bag, so you need to run to the house and get me one.”
“Crap.” Reefer turned and headed to the house.
“Exactly.” Tamara laughed, unsure if he was talking about the cigarette or the fact Dixie had just crapped in the grass. She watched him jog, walk, and jog again until he reached the porch steps. She loved him, and the thought of someone like the Escape Artist hurting him was more than she could bear. She would find a way to keep him—and Morgan—away from Alex.
~
Val rinsed her mouth with mouthwash, gagged, and spat it out. She pressed the cold compress to her throat, avoiding the mirror. She’d ask Henrietta to remove all the mirrors from the house tomorrow. She’d stitched up her face as best she could, but the scar would be horrific, and even plastic surgery would never restore it to its former beauty. When Rico got home, she would have him bandage it. He would be angry, of course, but Val knew she was lucky if that was all the punishment Samael dished out to her. She’d seen some of his work in the past. Sociopath didn’t quite describe the evil running through his veins. A key scraped in the lock, and for a moment, the hand holding the compress shook uncontrollably. “Rico? Candy?”
“It’s us, Dr. Jackson,” Candy called. “Sorry we’re late.”