Cold Death

by Mary Stone

  If Ellie were a friend, Katarina would recommend that she hire less gullible bodyguards, but since the detective was more of a necessary evil, Little Miss Perfect could figure that out on her own. “Look, once we find Bethany, I promise I’ll be a good little patient and let you trot me straight back to the psych ward on a leash if that floats your boat.”

  The blonde roommate muttered something along the lines of, “I’d like to float your boat right out to sea,” but Katarina kept her eyes locked on Ellie.

  “I’m the best chance we have of finding Bethany, and you know it.” Katarina swallowed, working her jaw to force the next part out. “Our chances are even better if we work together.”

  Asking for help made her insides squirm. She’d learned as a kid that the only person you could rely on was yourself. In her world, team players were the losers who couldn’t cut it on their own.

  The idea of working with anyone, and especially Ellie, clashed with Katarina’s every last instinct, but if there was another avenue that led to saving Bethany in time, Katarina couldn’t find it. She was a psych hospital fugitive. Low on resources. Ellie didn’t face either of those stumbling blocks. So, she’d grit her teeth and put up with these two for as long as was necessary to rescue her baby girl.

  Ellie sighed but didn’t argue with Katarina’s logic. Katarina took that as a win. As the detective scooped a pizza slice onto her plate, something nudged Katarina’s thigh.

  “Well, hello there.”

  The black dog whined before plopping its head into Katarina’s lap. She stroked the velvety ears before raising her eyebrows at the other two women. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but this dog is a terrible judge of character.”

  The blonde roommate snickered. “You’re not wrong.”

  Ellie kept chewing a bite, but a faint smile eased the tension from her face. Her roommate finally relaxed her death grip on the gun long enough to grab her own slice of pizza.

  Saved by a mutt. Katarina gave the dog an extra head scratch. If this all works out, buddy, I promise to send you a giant bone.

  As if the canine understood her silent promise, the dog thumped its tail twice on the floor.

  Emboldened by the doggy’s support, Katarina sucked in a breath and got the discussion rolling. “So, any speculation at all on where Kingsley is right now?”

  Jillian jumped in first. “My guess is that he grabbed Bethany and took off somewhere to lay low. Someplace too far away for people to hunt or even guess, like the Bahamas or Barbados.”

  Katarina was about to shoot that idea down when Ellie beat her to the punch.

  “I don’t think so. Kingsley is arrogant as hell and has a superiority complex a mile long. He’d chafe at the notion of running away.” She drummed her fingers on the table. “I think that’s why he always comes back. If he’d planned on running away, why risk coming to the police department? He thinks he’s too smart to get caught, and he delights in rubbing that in our faces, far too much to leave. Do you agree?”

  The detective directed the question at Katarina, and she nodded. “I do. The only time I can remember him ever being out of the country for an extended period of time was when he needed plastic surgery. His roots are here. He used to talk about living in this area specifically when he was a kid.”

  “I remember. We were just at that fancy house he grew up in a little over a week ago.” Ellie sighed. “We’ve had undercover agents stationed outside, just in case, but he hasn’t been back since.”

  Katarina gave an impatient jerk of her head. “No, not there. I’m talking before that. He told me about some piss poor place he and his mom lived in before the rich stepdad came along.”

  Ellie sat up straight. “Do you know where?”

  “No, don’t you?” When the detective shook her head, Katarina had to bite back a snarled why the hell not and replace it with a less combative, “Well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

  She grabbed her napkin to give her itchy fingers something to do. It was better than lunging across the table and denting the expensive wood with the detective’s pretty red head.

  This teamwork shit sucked.

  Katarina was thankful when Jillian distracted her from shredding the napkin into tiny white fragments. “Maybe we should discuss what else we know about Kingsley. Like, is it safe to say that he has a preference for choosing female victims?”

  Jillian glanced at Katarina for confirmation. She nodded. “Definitely. He liked really pretty men, and he doesn’t have any problems hurting men if they get in the way, but I think his real satisfaction comes from torturing and killing women.”

  “I’d agree with that.” Ellie toyed with her glass. “After reading transcripts from his Letitia Wiggins’s trial and talking to some former employees, I think it’s a safe guess that he might have been a victim of abuse at one point, at a female’s hands. Wiggins allegedly molested him while he was a student at the Far Ridge Boy’s Academy. According to the witness I interviewed, pretty much everyone on campus at the time knew about it.”

  Both Ellie and Jillian turned to Katarina, as if the psychotic asshole who’d raised her had opened up about the experience over ice cream one night. “If she did, he never told me, but that doesn’t mean anything. We didn’t exactly have one of those TV relationships where the people are always sharing their innermost secrets and sobbing on each other’s shoulders. He raised me to be just like him, strong and deadly. He would have seen all of that touchy-feely shit as counterproductive, a weakness.”

  Katarina broke off when she caught Jillian’s softening expression. Great, now the roommate looked about two seconds away from asking if Katarina needed a hug. She curled her lip. “I don’t need your pity. What I need is someone to find my daughter.”

  An awkward silence descended while Katarina sank into her chair with hot cheeks, frustrated over her loss of control. Why was she acting like she gave a single damn what these women thought when she didn’t? She wasn’t here to impress them or join a knitting group. So what if they pitied her? Instead of letting that get to her, she should figure out how to twist that sympathy to her advantage.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled, trying not to choke on the word.

  “That’s okay.” Jillian’s reply was stiff.

  Good. Better that than the sad puppy eyes from before.

  Ellie cleared her throat. “Did he mention Letitia at all to you?”

  “Yeah. Not so much by name, more about how he’d had this great mentor at the academy who helped him reach his potential, and that’s the role he planned to fill for me, and so on. God, he really did like to hear himself talk sometimes.”

  “He never got married, right?”

  Katarina snorted at Jillian’s question. “Him? No. As far as I know, he never came close. Never even dated women. I figured he either hated them too much to try, or he’d had his heart broken so badly once, he never recovered.” She picked her thumbnail and shrugged. “Probably for the best. Good chance he’d have whacked anyone he dated once he got tired of them.”

  Jillian flinched. “I wonder if this Letitia woman is the reason why.”

  “I was wondering the same thing. A spouse would have been useful as a cover, but he never bothered.” Ellie twisted her hair and gazed at Katarina like she expected her to pull the information out of some long buried place.

  “Like I said before, dunno. Could be, though. Fits with my theory, that’s for sure.”

  Ellie nodded. “Okay, let’s go with that theory for now. Anything else we know about him?”

  Lots of shit. None of it good, and most irrelevant. Little she was willing to share. Katarina suppressed a shudder by taking a sip of water.

  “You mean, apart from the fact that he’s evil?”

  Jillian’s smart-ass reply almost made the water shoot back out Katarina’s nose. She choked and smacked her chest. Once she stopped gasping for air, she glared at the blonde. “First, you’re Attila the Hun, then the sad mom from some shitty cable movie,
and now you’re a comedian. Give me a warning next time before you switch personalities. I’d like to skip another stint in the hospital over aspirating my drink.”

  She coughed once more while Jillian shot Ellie a puzzled look. “Sad mom from a shitty cable movie? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Katarina rolled her eyes. Jillian whispered louder than a two-year-old in a movie theater.

  “I wouldn’t sweat it. Katarina’s not known for her sunny disposition, even at the best of times. Besides, it’s late, and we’re all probably feeling a little punchy by now.” Despite the reassurance, Ellie’s lips were twitching, and the roommate scowled before throwing her hands in the air.

  “Okay, fine, I admit it. I’m a mother hen sometimes. So, sue me already.” Jillian folded her arms and stuck her lower lip out, but a second later, both she and Ellie were snickering.

  “And yet I’m the one they locked up in the psych hospital.”

  That only made them snicker harder. Their antics made Katarina want to chuck her plate at their heads. Had they forgotten so soon? This wasn’t playtime. Bethany’s life depended on them. If this was how the investigation was run, no wonder the police hadn’t found her daughter yet.

  Beneath the impatience, envy swelled, and Katarina gripped the chair to keep her nails from biting into her flesh. Must be nice to have someone so in sync with you. She’d never had a close friend, male or female. Growing up with a sociopath didn’t lend itself to opportunities for relationships that weren’t transactional. “If you two can tear yourselves away from the little BFF moment, I did have something to add.”

  Ellie’s smile evaporated. “Go ahead.”

  “Kingsley also has a tendency to fixate on young girls. Around ten, eleven, or even younger. Not in a sexual way, more like a dad.” Katarina grimaced as old memories of Kingsley’s version of paternal affection wormed into her consciousness. “A super shitty, messed up dad, but whatever.”

  Ellie’s brow furrowed. “Why do you say that? The dad part, I mean?”

  “Why the hell do you think? Because of how he talked to me after I went to live with him. He treated me like a parent, like I was his kid. Like we were actually related or something. Besides, in the whole time I lived with him, I never noticed him ever so much as think about sex, let alone seek it out, and he’s had plenty of opportunities with women over the years. He doesn’t seem to care about physical connection, only pain. Pretty much any kind but the sexual variety.”

  Ellie rubbed her neck, her forehead lines deepening as she frowned down at the pizza box.

  Seconds ticked by while Katarina waited for the detective to share what was on her mind. When she couldn’t stand the tension any longer, she pounded the table with her fist. “What is it?”

  Ellie lifted her eyes to meet Katarina’s. “I was just wondering about your mother.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. This? This was the question plaguing the detective? “Which one are we talking about? I had lots of mothers when I was little.”

  The detective exchanged a glance with her roommate before placing her palms on the table and leaning forward, almost vibrating with intensity. “But are we one-hundred-percent sure who your birth mom was?”

  What was Ellie trying to get at? Katarina narrowed her eyes, answering slowly as she attempted to unravel the detective’s sudden fixation on her genealogy. “Yeah. My biological mom was Alice Becker, and my dad was John Becker. But you know all that already, so why the…oh, hell no!” Shock rippled through her body like an afterquake, rendering her incapable of speech. When she overcame her frozen vocal cords, her skin was flaming with anger. “Are you kidding me right now? I see where you’re headed with this, and just stop already. It’s complete and utter bullshit.”

  Even voicing the speculation that she and Kingsley might be related by blood seared her stomach with acid and sent nausea barreling up her throat. She pressed a hand to her belly and fought back a heave. Absolutely not. She refused to entertain such a disgusting idea.

  Her parents were Alice and John Becker, who’d died when she was two, at which point she’d ended up with her great aunt, Euphemia. Anyone suggesting otherwise deserved a swift kick to the head.

  As if sensing how close Katarina was to losing her shit, Ellie lifted her hands in surrender. “Okay, sorry. It was just a thought that popped into my head.”

  Katarina dug her fingers into her stomach and glared. “Well, un-pop it, and let’s get back on track to Bethany. I think he’s using her as the bait.” Enough with the batshit conjectures. They needed to focus on the real task.

  “Using her as bait for what?” Jillian asked.

  “Any of us, all of us. The fuck should I know? I just know that it makes sense. He has a track record of using little girls as decoys or lures for his dirty work.” Her lips twisted. “I should know. When I was still a kid, he used me too many times to count as a way of getting people to drop their guards and venture close enough to trip into his web. Think about it. Bethany is the best bait he could possibly use to draw any or all of us to him, wherever he wants us to go.”

  Wait. If in some horrible twist of fate Katarina truly was his daughter, then that made Bethany his…

  “Motherfucker!” Horror, rage, and fear erupted, and Katarina banged her fist on the table until her hand throbbed. When that didn’t serve as an adequate release, she grabbed handfuls of her hair and pulled until her scalp burned and tears stung her eyes. How could this be happening, after she’d spent so much time and effort to free herself from him?

  She sensed the other two women’s startled looks but didn’t care, and the bodyguard had taken a step closer. Let them believe she’d lost her marbles, or shoot her, even. Physical pain would be a relief, compared to this onslaught of bitter, soul-crushing futility.

  They were still murmuring to each other when she began speaking, her voice low and hoarse. “Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to break free of him? Almost impossible after growing up with him manipulating me, brainwashing me, telling me how much I meant to him and that a good, grateful ‘daughter’ would never leave her ‘papa.’” She used air quotes around the words to make sure they understood she was talking figuratively. “Of course, that was when sweet-talking suited his mood. He used threats just as much. Told me how if I ever tried to leave him, he’d hunt me down like a rabid animal and put me out of my misery. But I finally did it. I dug deep and found the willpower after I found out that Bethany wasn’t really dead.”

  An acrid laugh scraped up Katarina’s throat as she lifted her gaze from the table to meet Ellie’s eyes.

  “How stupid could I have been? I knew what he was, knew the horrible things he did to people, yet I somehow went so many years, never guessing that he could be cruel enough to steal my newborn daughter from me.”

  Ellie shook her head. “Hey, it’s okay, you don’t have to—”

  “I know what you all think of me, that I’m a cold, vicious bitch, and you’re not wrong. But I can’t tell you how much I hate,” Katarina choked out the words, “hate being linked to him, how much I despise this connection we have. And I hate myself for wanting to run to him for protection, even when he was the one shooting at me. Isn’t that the most pathetic thing you’ve ever heard? That even after every awful thing he’s done, that I still somehow look to him for comfort and help? Shit, maybe I am crazy after all.”

  She stuffed her fist into her mouth to choke back a sob.

  “That’s not pathetic.” Jillian’s hand curled around her forearm. The contact made Katarina flinch, but she didn’t move away. “It’s a normal response to trauma in kidnapping victims, a form of Stockholm syndrome.”

  “Jillian’s right. There are studies of former kidnapping victims who described those exact same behaviors and feelings. And that was in cases where the victims were adults, and the kidnapper didn’t also act as a parent substitute.”

  Katarina used her shirt to dry her eyes. What a pathetic idiot. She hated that she’d melted down,
especially in front of these two. Kingsley would have punished her for weeks over such a huge lapse of self-control. “God, I’m never like this. I’m just worried about Bethany.” She glared up at Jillian, who still hovered near her shoulder. “I swear, if you try to hug me, I’ll headbutt you in the nose.”

  The blonde backed away with her hands up. “No hugging, I promise. You don’t smell all that great anyway.”

  Relieved by the shift to a lighter topic, Katarina sniffed her armpit and winced. “Yeah, didn’t get around to showering much in the hospital. Deal with it.”

  “You can use mine once we’re finished talking about Kingsley. What do we think his endgame is? To get us all together in the same spot and pick us off, one by one?”

  Katarina scoffed at Ellie’s suggestion. “Please. He’s not some freak strung out on bath salts who runs around eating random people’s faces for shits and giggles. He wants to feel powerful, which he achieves by outsmarting everyone around him. He gets off by taking people and molding them into the exact person he wants, into someone who will perform in a big way for him, at his bidding.” She sneered to shove back a fresh burst of pain. “Nothing gives a man a greater sense of power than bending a strong woman to his will.”

  “And did he? Bend you to his will?”

  The quiet question came from Ellie. Katarina debated answering, then shrugged. Why not? What did she care if they rehashed or judged her old traumas? Maybe one of the stories would further their investigation, and she’d flay the skin off her own back if that could help rescue Bethany.

  Staring at her hands, she opened her mouth and let the stories spill out. Starting with the first one, when Kingsley stole her from the Davidsons and manipulated her to wield a knife on them before she started the fire that burned their mangled bodies and continuing on through all of the crimes that followed.

  The endless hours of training and preparation he’d subjected her to first to make sure she was ready, like martial arts, knife work, and breaking and entering. She shared how he’d taught her to scam people and steal and ended their lessons with real-life training. When she was still green, he tested her out on easy marks like half-deaf little old ladies with canes and graduated her to tougher scores by the time she hit thirteen.