by Karen Rose
THIRTY-FOUR
Friday, October 14, 7:45 P.M.
WOLVES. COMING. SHE TRIED TO RUN, but they chased her, drooling, fangs shimmering. She stumbled and fell and they were on her. No, no. The screams tore from her throat as sharp teeth sank into the back of her thigh. She pulled herself into a ball, but it did nothing to save her. Teeth ripped, tore. The pain, white-hot and excruciating . . . She tried to crawl away, but they descended . . .
“No!” she screamed, and woke up, huddled in a ball, drenched in sweat, her eyes clenched shut.
Clap, clap, clap. Applause.
“Not bad. Not bad at all. Sammie was better, but she was also in the drama club.”
Jenna dragged in a breath. It was a dream. A dream. That was all. There was no pain, no ripped flesh. She opened her eyes. Only Josh Lutz standing over her with ropes in his hands.
He knelt and briskly tied her hands. “Next time I’ll just have to think of something better. What are you afraid of, Miss Marshall? Samantha was afraid of snakes. Slithering silently. Coming closer. With fangs. Sssss.” His hands dropped to her legs. “So what are you afraid of?”
“Not you,” Jenna spat, trying to wrench away, and Josh just chuckled and grabbed her ankles.
“Feisty. I’d hoped you would be.” He pulled another rope from his back pocket and Jenna made her mind function. Made herself remember all the self-defense she’d learned, how to hold her feet to create the most give in the knot Josh was about to tie. Prayed she could pull it off.
He tied her ankles and she pretended to struggle, but in the end her ankles were placed exactly as she’d planned. She realized she could now see more of the barn. She could see the far wall, the table that held the plastic case he’d brought to her apartment that night. Her heart contracted. She could see the table that held Kelly’s nude body. She strained to see if Kelly still breathed.
“She’s still alive,” Josh said. “But not for much longer.” Kelly was alive. So am I. But Kelly was nude and Jenna was still clothed. Why? Why had he not taken her clothes? Kelly was bald, her head shaved clean, her hair mounted on the wall. But he hasn’t done that to me yet. Why?
Jenna kept her questions to herself in the unlikely event asking would trigger Josh to action. It was far more likely he had his own reasons for not proceeding. Miss Marshall, she thought. In school, he called her Dr. Marshall, but here, where he was in charge, it was Miss. A deliberate attempt to undermine her authority, learned from his dear old dad. But he didn’t use her first name, so she still wasn’t at the level of the other girls in his mind. She hoped to use it against him. She needed to search the walls she could see, looking for a way to escape. Because she had to. She would.
Friday, October 14, 9:00 P.M.
“What the hell is this all about?” Victor Lutz barreled into Interview One, where a tight-lipped Nora Lutz and her lawyer sat at the table with Liz. Lutz recognized Davies who sat in the corner, arms crossed, face hard, and Lutz’s expression blanched as he and Davies played the staring game.
Finally Lutz turned and Steven was gratified to see a flicker of fear in the man’s eyes. “We settled this,” Lutz said, considerably shaken. “My son had nothing to do with the vandalism.”
Steven wanted to strangle the man here and now. Instead, he calmed his knocking heart and smoothed his voice. “We’re not talking about vandalism. We’re talking about murder.”
“The English teacher is fine,” Lutz insisted. “She was released from the hospital this morning.”
Steven raised a brow. “Worried about Miss Ryan, were you? I suppose you had cause to be considering it was your prompting that incited your son’s friends to cut Dr. Marshall’s brakes.” Steven held up his hand when Lutz would have denied it. “Save it for your indictment, Mr. Lutz. Detective Pullman has two young men who’ve sworn out affidavits implicating you. I’m not talking about attempted murder. I’m talking about serial murder. Four young girls four years ago in Seattle. Four young girls in the last month here in Raleigh. Ring a bell?”
Lutz’s gaze flicked to Davies sitting in the corner, then back at Steven. “He is insane, so determined to ruin my family that he comes all this way to spread his lies. Rudy was exonerated.”
Steven pursed his lips. “I’m not talking about Rudy. I’m talking about Josh.”
Lutz’s face blanked. Then he laughed. “Josh? You’re crazier than he is. Josh is a half-wit.”
“Shut up, Victor,” Nora snapped and jerked her arm away when her lawyer tried to silence her. “For years you’ve told my son he’s stupid and unworthy. And for years you’ve been wrong.”
Lutz frowned at her outburst. “Nora, you know as well as I do that Josh is retarded.”
“I don’t think so, Mr. Lutz, and I’m not prepared to give you all the wherefores and therefores right now,” Steven said, abandoning his patient routine. “Your son’s kidnapped four girls, killed three of them, and three hours ago Dr. Marshall was abducted.” He drew on the scattered remnants of his calm, doing his best not to think about Jenna at the hands of Lutz’s sick bastard son. Tried not to think about the frantic cell phone call Allison made when she discovered her unconscious father at the cemetery. Steven slipped his hand in his pocket and fingered the silver Celtic ring Jenna left behind on Adam’s headstone. Allison had insisted he take it, as if knowing she’d said good-bye to Adam would make him search for her harder.
He clenched his fist, feeling the edges of Adam Llewellyn’s ring cut into his palm. Like he could be looking any harder. He’d turned the Parker house upside down, but found nothing.
There was absolutely no clue to where Josh had taken his victims and if Nora Lutz knew, she wasn’t saying. She just sat next to her lawyer, unconcerned about Jenna, Kelly ...Any of the senseless tragedy her son had caused . . . It made him want to scream, to throw something. To put his hands around her neck and shake her until she at least showed some remorse. Some regret. Something beyond the arrogant, self-absorbed concern over her precious, demented spawn of Satan.
Lutz was staring at his wife as if she were a complete stranger. “Josh is just not capable.”
Steven gritted his teeth. “I’m not interested in your denials. I just want to know where he is.”
Lutz turned his disbelieving eyes from his wife to Steven, then shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Where would he go? Where would he hide? Where could he take, kill, and dismember four young teenaged girls?” Steven smacked the table and Mrs. Lutz flinched, then straightened, making Steven think of a very dowdy queen.
“My Joshua is innocent,” she said coldly. “And this conversation is over.”
“Are my clients being held?” the Lutzes’ lawyer asked mildly. “Or are they free to go?”
Steven looked at Liz who shook her head. “We can’t hold them, Agent Thatcher.”
“Then they’re free to go,” Steven said bitterly and watched them leave. Free as birds while their son held Jenna. He closed his mind, not allowing himself to think about what could be happening to her at that moment. To Kelly, should she still be alive. Not allowing himself to remember the horror of Alev’s mutilated body. Or Samantha’s. Or Lorraine’s. He knew Neil had tacked four more names onto the list of victims he wasn’t allowing himself to remember.
But of course they remembered. Josh had made sure they knew exactly what he could do. Because Josh knew that made the terror that much worse.
He waited until the Lutzes were gone before finding Sandra. “Follow them,” he said through his teeth. “I want to know how many squares of toilet paper they use to wipe their asses until we find Jenna and Kelly.” He looked around, irritably. “Where’s Harry? I haven’t seen him all day.”
Nancy slid her arm around his waist. “He called a few hours ago. He’s got a lead on the Richards man, the dead farmer who supposedly bought the ketamine. Harry said he’d call again when he had something. Steven, I want you to go home. Brad’s called for you twice. Your kids need you at home.” She hugge
d him to her. “Have courage, Steven. It will be all right. I know it.”
Steven dragged his palms down his face, feeling numb. Have courage, Steven. “She said that to me, the first day we met. Jenna did.”
Nancy hugged him again and shoved him toward the door. “Then listen to her, Steven.”
Friday, October 14, 10:00 P.M.
Helen met him with open arms. Nicky stood in the foyer, stoic and wise. Mike stood behind him, hands on Nicky’s shoulders, Nicky’s red hair bright against the black of Mike’s robes. Matt’s eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. Brad stood beside him, his arm around Matt’s shoulders.
No one said a word until Nicky spoke up, his little boy voice strong. “She’ll come home, Daddy,” he said. “You’ll bring her home just like you brought me home.”
Matt stifled a sob that he tried to hide.
Steven’s throat closed. He dropped his chin to his chest, clenched his eyes shut, and battled to keep it all inside just a little longer. Just until he got alone, away from the boys, where they couldn’t see him cry. He’d nearly shoved it all back down when two little arms wrapped around his waist and hugged tight. He opened his eyes to see Nicky’s red head burrowed into his stomach. His chest heaved as his breath came shuddering out. He brushed his hands over Nicky’s hair, then hoisted his little boy into his arms and hugged him with a ferocity that made Nicky protest.
“Daddy.”
Steven loosened his hold, burying his face in Nicky’s shoulder. “Sorry, buddy.”
Nicky patted his back. “It’s okay.”
Mike stepped forward and took Nicky from his arms. “I think your dad needs some space, boys,” he said, shepherding everyone into the kitchen. “Let’s fix him some dinner.”
Only Brad remained, looking at him with serious eyes. Steven cleared his throat, refusing to be embarrassed. “Nancy said you’ve been trying to reach me all day. I’m sorry I didn’t call you back.” Brad shook his head. “It’s okay, Dad. I didn’t know what was happening. I never would have bothered you if I’d known.”
Steven made his mouth curve. “Well, now I’m home. So tell me what’s on your mind.”
Brad didn’t smile back. “Can we go in your office? There’s something I need to say.”
So they went, Steven’s stomach heavy as lead. What next? What now?
Brad shut the door and leaned back against it. “I’m only going to tell you now because I know Dr. Marshall would want me to. I went to see her today.”
Steven’s eyes widened. “Why?”
“To try to get her to come back to you. To show her this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper Steven instantly recognized. His eyes shot up to Brad’s.
“When did you find it?” he asked quietly.
Brad shrugged. “Labor Day. I was looking in the top drawer of your bureau for a picture of all of us together because I wanted to have it made into a calendar for Grandma. Then I found this.”
Steven took the ragged paper and stared at it for a moment. “You blamed me.”
“For lying to me,” Brad said. “And for making her leave,” he added, looking away.
“You thought she’d left because I cheated?”
Brad shrugged. “I didn’t know. I guess it was easier to blame you because you were here. And you hadn’t told the truth from the beginning.”
“You want the truth now?” Steven said and Brad met his eyes and nodded. “I was never unfaithful to your mother. In the thirteen years we were married I never touched another woman.”
Brad looked up. “I believe you.”
Steven exhaled, relieved. “Your mother wasn’t happy,
Brad. So she decided to leave. I had no idea it was coming to that.”
“What would you have done if you’d known?”
“I honestly don’t know, Brad. I don’t even know if there’s anything I could have done. But I don’t regret not telling you the truth. I would have done anything to spare you this pain.”
“So you took it all on yourself.”
“I did.”
“Did you think we might have been able to help, Dad?” Brad asked, his voice wavering. “Did you think maybe we could have supported you through it?”
“No,” Steven answered truthfully. “I didn’t. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“It hurt more knowing you didn’t trust me.” He looked away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .”
“It’s okay, son. I know I should have trusted Jenna, too, but I didn’t and now she’s gone.”
“She’ll be back, Dad. I know it.” Brad hesitated, then put his hand on Steven’s shoulder. “And when you get her back, she’ll come back to you.”
Steven swallowed, slipped his hand in his pocket, and fingered Adam Llewellyn’s ring, hoping against hope his son was right on both counts. “You seem sure.”
Brad’s expression became intense. “She cares about you. Anybody that has eyes can see it. You hurt me, too, by not trusting me about Mom, but here I am. I came back. Because... because I love you, Dad. She’ll be back, just like I came back.”
Steven struggled, then gave up and let the emotion come, choking on a sob when Brad’s arms circled him, holding him, patting his back as the tears came. “I’m so afraid,” Steven whispered. “I’m so afraid he’ll hurt her. That he’ll kill her like all the others.”
Brad held on. “You’ll get her back, Dad. We have to believe that.”
Steven sucked in a deep breath and straightened, pulling his palms over his face to dry his eyes. “We have to have courage.”
Friday, October 14, 11:30 P.M.
He’d cut her hair.
She was still weak from the last round of dreams, populated by hundreds of hissing, striking snakes. She woke, screaming and gasping, but still tied up. It wasn’t until she’d caught her breath and come back down to earth that she realized her hair was gone.
Her hair was gone. All but a quarter inch he’d left all around. As her vision focused, he’d shown her the razor he’d use to finish the job, to make her smoothly bald. But now he was... playing with her hair.
Jenna watched as Josh laid her hair out on his worktable and braided it. Almost lovingly.
“Why, Josh?” she asked from the floor, trying to sound as teacherlike, as authoritarian as she was able. “Why do you take our hair?”
Josh looked over and shrugged. “It’s a little embarrassing, actually. Kind of a Freudian thing.”
Jenna had to fight not to show the revulsion she felt. “You like your mother’s hair?”
“Oh, yes. My mother has absolutely beautiful hair. I’ve heard my father tell her that it’s her best feature. She used to brush it every night. One hundred strokes.” He ran his hand over the braid he’d created from Jenna’s hair. “I used to love to watch her braid her hair. That’s what I first liked about you, in fact. Your hair. I wished I could braid it, sitting there in your class. I’d planned to brush it and braid it when I finally got you.”
“When you finally got me,” Jenna repeated. “But now you’ve got me and you cut my hair.”
He frowned at her. “That’s your doing, not mine. I’d planned to take you away after graduation, to make you happy. You’d earned it. You weren’t like the others. But then you spent the night with Thatcher,” he said bitterly, “and I knew you were no better than any of these others, willing to crawl into a car with a man they barely know. So you lose your hair, Miss Marshall. Just like you’ll lose your life.” He took Jenna’s braid and mounted it under her picture. “There. But I get ahead of myself. I’m not supposed to mount the hair until I’ve finished and I’m behind schedule.” He turned with a grin. “It’s Friday night, Miss Marshall. Time for a show.”
THIRTY-FIVE
Saturday, October 15, 1:00 A.M.
STEVEN ANSWERED THE PHONE ON THE first ring. “Thatcher.”
“It’s Harry.”
“Where are you?”
“In Pembroke, Virginia. The widow of
George Richards is here, visiting her sister. It took me all day to track her down, but when I did I had her go through yearbooks from every high school in the county. I didn’t want anyone saying we directed Mrs. Richards unfairly.”
“And? Dammit, Harry, tell me.”
“She identified Josh Lutz as the boy who used to help her husband chop wood and do errands a few years back. It was some program for troubled kids. You know, back to nature, fresh air. Mrs. Richards said Josh seemed harmless as a lamb, except when it was slaughter-time. Then he seemed to enjoy his job a little too much. Her husband let him go. Josh’s mother even came to ask Richards to give him another chance, but the old man was firm.”
“So that’s how he got the ketamine. Well, that explains a lot.”
“There’s more. Mrs. Richards said her husband had a woodworking shop in a barn on the farm.”
Steven’s knees went weak and he sat down. Sawdust. Jenna. “Where? Exactly where, Harry?” He listened, memorized the location. Then ran from the house, dialing for backup.
Saturday, October 15, 1:30 A.M.
Jenna swallowed back terror as Josh placed an assortment of very large carving tools on the table where he’d tied Kelly. From across the barn Jenna could see Kelly struggle, although the girl’s movements were pathetically weak.
He was going to kill her now, kill Kelly. I need to get him away from Kelly.
Stall, she thought, do anything. Sooner or later the police would come looking for her. Steven would find her. Jenna wanted to cry, just thinking Steven’s name, but she knew she needed to keep her voice firm. She pulled on her teacher’s cloak of authority. “So help me understand, Josh. You had nothing to do with the vandalism in my class, or the dead possum.”
Josh rolled his eyes. “Really, Miss Marshall. That possum was a roadkill one of my brother’s friends found on the road. They’re bullies, not sadists.” He held up a curved knife so that she could see it. “Nice, isn’t it? It’s always rewarding to work with quality tools. Old Mr. Richards always had great taste in tools. Now I, on the other hand, am a sadist. If I’d wanted to leave you a gift, it wouldn’t have been a roadkill.” He smiled mockingly. “Roadkill’s so off-the-shelf. I do made-to-order. Rudy’s friends have no style. They haven’t a shred of creativity.”