Dark and Twisted Reads: All the Pretty GirlsA Perfect EvilBone Cold (A Taylor Jackson Novel)

by J. T. Ellison

  “One that totally sucks, if you ask me.”

  “Not from their point of view. No doubt they think they’re being extremely fair. From what you’ve said, your publisher is offering you not only a lot more money than before, but the kind of opportunity most writers only dream of.”

  “You sound like my agent,” she muttered.

  “Sorry about that.” He leaned toward her. “The fact is, at this point your fear is stronger than your longing to continue being published. And that fear is understandable, considering your past. But it isn’t necessarily rational. And it’s not healthy.”

  She picked up her wine and sipped, shocked to realize her hands were shaking. “So you think I should just buck up, face my fears and do it? Agree to their offer?”

  “I didn’t say that. I think your fears can be overcome by working with a good therapist. Not, as your agent and editor seem to think, through sheer determination. That’s a recipe for disaster.”

  Silence fell between them as their first course was delivered, seafood gumbo for him and shrimp Arnaud for her.

  “I know you’re leery of therapists, Anna,” he murmured, dipping his spoon into the thick, savory soup. “But what about working with a group of other people who are in a similar boat? I facilitate a fear group on Thursday evenings, you could come check us out, see if it’s something you feel you’d benefit from. If you didn’t feel comfortable working with me, there are a number of such groups in the area. I could check around, do a little research for you, recommend a few.”

  A group? Of other people like her? Would she be able to open up in front of them any better than she could to other strangers? Could it help her?

  He searched her gaze. “How do you feel about that?”

  “Apprehensive.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “Nervous about the idea. Curious.”

  “Good.” He smiled. “That’s a start.”

  “Do you need an answer now?”

  “Absolutely not. Take all the time you need. This has to be a decision you come to willingly, Anna. Not under pressure.”

  Willingly? A nice concept, but one her mystery terrorist—as she had come to think of him—had stolen from her.

  “If you decide to give us a try, let me know right away. Group is an intimate forum. One that relies on a high level of trust between the participants. If you want to sit in, I’ll have to introduce the idea to the group, tell them a little about you and, basically, get their permission to allow you in.”

  She liked the sound of that and told him so. She also promised to let him know the minute she decided she wanted to participate.

  From there, they concentrated on their meal, which was every bit as fabulous as Anna had expected. While they ate, Ben told stories about the different places he had lived, but from time to time Anna caught her attention wandering to Jaye and Detective Malone’s promise.

  When he poked around the Clausens’ past, what would he find? Jaye, she prayed. Safe and sound.

  “Anna? Are you all right?”

  She blinked, jostled out of her thoughts by Ben’s question. She smiled apologetically at him. “Sorry. I guess the last few days are catching up with me.”

  “No problem. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Just keep putting up with me, okay?”

  He agreed, and for the remainder of their meal Anna kept her attention focused on her dinner companion.

  The bill paid, they stood to leave the restaurant. Before Anna could ask the maître d’ to call a cab for her, Ben offered to drive her. “That’s silly, I’m only a few blocks from here and it’s out of your way.”

  “But I asked you to dinner. Any gentleman worth that title sees his date safely home.”

  She hesitated only a moment, then agreed. “All right.”

  Only a handful of minutes later, Ben double-parked in front of her building, climbed out of the vehicle and came around to open her door. He helped her out and walked her to the courtyard gate. There, they faced one another. “I had a really nice time, Ben. Thanks.” Her lips lifted. “Actually, tonight was just what I needed.”

  He reached out and lightly touched her cheek, then dropped his hand. “I’m feeling a little guilty right now,” he murmured, voice deepening. “You see, I had an ulterior motive for asking you to dinner tonight.”

  Ben had expressed his interest in her in subtle ways all evening. Had he decided to abandon subtlety for a more direct approach?

  If he had, how would she feel?

  Her cheeks warmed and her pulse began to race. She searched his expression. His face lay half in shadow, half in the light cast by a neighbor’s porch light, transforming his looks from that of mild-mannered doctor to mysterious stranger.

  Stranger. A man she hardly knew. One whose intentions she couldn’t be certain of.

  A shiver of excitement and apprehension moved over her. She held her breath, waiting.

  “I need to come clean with you about something,” Ben continued. “And I hope you won’t be too angry with me.”

  Anna drew her eyebrows together, confused. What he’d just said didn’t jibe with her train of thought, not at all. Just what kind of “ulterior motives” concerning their date had he had?

  Ben caught her hands. “At our last meeting, I wasn’t quite honest with you.”

  Obviously not the kind she’d thought he’d had. She stared at him a moment, then giggled.

  He looked surprised by her reaction, then hurt. “What did I say?”

  “I thought… Your ulterior motive—” She giggled again.

  It took a half second for her words to sink in, then a slow smile crept across his face. “I like to think I have a little more finesse than that, Anna.”

  “I’m glad to know you do. I would have hated having to write you off as not only a creep, but a bumbling creep as well.”

  “So I take it your answer would have been no?”

  She ignored his question, as much in an effort at coquetry as because she didn’t know herself. “Perhaps we should get back to this ulterior motive of yours?”

  “Look at me, I’ve put it off all night and here we are, saying good-night and I’m still fumbling around.”

  “Just tell me. I’ll bet I can take it.”

  “All right.” He let out a long breath, a cloud of steam following on the frigid night air. “Remember when I said that I just happened to tune into E! that Saturday the Hollywood mysteries show aired?”

  She nodded, a chill sensation starting at the back of her neck and spreading outward from there.

  “That wasn’t true. And it wasn’t true that I was already a fan of your novels. I’d never even heard of Anna North until the day before the show aired.”

  Her lips were numb, she realized. Not from the cold, from apprehension. From what she knew was coming next. “So, how…when did you—”

  “The evening before the E! special, I found a package in my waiting room. It contained a copy of—”

  “My last book and a note telling you to tune into E! the next day. Dear God.” She brought a hand to her mouth. How far-reaching was her tormentor’s campaign of terror? What was he after? And why had Ben been included?

  “That’s…yes.” He swore under his breath. “I see how upset you are, and I’m sorry. I’m certain one of my patients left the package for me, but I don’t know which one or why. I called the six patients I saw that Friday, all six denied having left it.”

  One of his patients. The videographer. She sucked in a deep breath, excited. “Do you have a patient named Peter Peters?”

  He repeated the name, then shook his head. “No.”

  “You’re certain? No one named anything even remotely like Peter Peters?”

  “I’m certain.” He frowned, concerned. “Why?”

  “Because you weren’t the only one who received that package. In fact, everyone of importance in my life received one. My parents, best friends, agent and editor…my little sister, Jaye.”

&nbs
p; She hugged herself and stomped her feet to keep warm, strangely grateful for the cold, for the diversion it provided. “You weren’t the only E! viewer who was able to put two and two together and figure out that Anna North is none other than Harlow Grail.”

  This time it was he who searched her gaze, his filled with regret. “Before then, who knew?”

  “Just my parents. I’d worked hard to put my past behind me. To disassociate myself from the kidnapped Hollywood princess.”

  He let out a long breath. “I’m sorry, Anna. To have been exposed that way must have been very upsetting for you.”

  Suddenly, she was angry. Furious. “It was worse than upsetting, Dr. Walker. It was a shock. I was terrified.” She hiked up her chin. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth up front?”

  “Because I figured you’d be spooked. That you would erroneously believe you were in danger from some nutcase patient of mine. No way would you have talked to me then.”

  “Considerate, Ben. Thank you.”

  “Please.” He caught her hands again. “I never thought you in any danger, you have to believe me. Therapy can elicit obsessive and sometimes bizarre behavior in patients. The process can bring out anger, bitterness and even rage. These emotions are often turned onto the therapist. That’s why I believed the focus of this was me.”

  She eased her hands from his and hugged herself. “Why are you telling me now? We could have gone on forever without me knowing the truth.”

  “Because I’m neither a liar nor one of those people who can bend the truth and go righteously on their way.” He paused. “And because I like you.”

  The last took a little of the blow out of her anger and she pulled her coat closely around her. “Why you?” she asked. “There’s a twisted kind of logic in my friends receiving the package, but how do you fit in?”

  “I don’t know. It still makes sense that it’s one of my patients doing this. I’ll help you find out who, Anna. And why.” For the second time that night he reached out and lightly touched her cheek. His fingers were as cold as ice. “Together, we can figure this out. I promise we will.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Saturday, January 20

  2:00 a.m.

  Jaye awakened from a deep sleep. Frightened, she lay stone still, listening. For what had awakened her. For the quiet whoosh of the pet door swinging shut or the creak of a floorboard outside her prison door. Those things had awakened her before.

  Her captor came to her in the dead of night. He passed provisions through the pet door—food and drink for the day, fresh towels—never speaking. She had learned after the first day that if she left her garbage and any remnants of her meal just inside the pet door, he would take them away.

  His silent presence frightened her. She had heard him on the floors below, moving about, coming and going. She had heard him breathing on the other side of the door. As if listening. And waiting.

  For what? Jaye wondered, hugging herself. What did he want with her? He hadn’t touched her. Yet, anyway. But he would. And then what would she do?

  Fear choked her, and she struggled to breathe past it. Jaye dragged the single blanket to her chin. Her hands screamed protest at the small movement—they were cut and torn from her daily clawing and tugging at the boards on the windows, black and blue from pounding against the door.

  She wanted to go home. She wanted to see Anna, her foster parents and her friends. She wanted to wake up in her own bed, surrounded by her own things.

  She didn’t want to be scared anymore.

  A sound slipped from her lips, small and helpless. Then another and another. Jaye strangled the fourth back, not wanting him to hear her. Not wanting him to know how frightened—how vulnerable—she really was.

  But he knew. He knew everything.

  No! He couldn’t see inside her head or her heart. She wouldn’t let him.

  Jaye swallowed hard and sat up, focusing her thoughts on what she knew. On the things she could control. Unless she had somehow lost track of time, she had been held in this room for three days. She had deduced that her prison was some sort of attic room, several stories above the street. At times she heard the distant sounds of jazz, at others the rhythmic sound of taps striking the sidewalk. On several occasions she’d thought she caught a whiff of frying seafood and shrimp boil.

  The combination of those things had led her to believe that she was being held in the French Quarter, in a building located away from the busy hub of Bourbon Street or Jackson Square. Perhaps on the fringe between the commercial and residential areas of the Quarter.

  That was good news. She hadn’t been taken far from home or the people who were searching for her. Surely by now the police were involved. Social Services. Anna.

  A lump formed in Jaye’s throat at the thought of her friend. She regretted their fight. She wished with all her heart that she could take back the things she had said. She wished she could have one more day with her.

  The thought brought fear and helplessness rushing back, and Jaye fought them, refocusing herself on what she had to do to survive. The way Anna must have, all those years ago. If Anna had given in to her fear back then, she would have died. Like that little boy.

  After her and Anna’s fight, Jaye had done some research on Anna’s kidnapping. It hadn’t been difficult, even in New Orleans the story had been front-page news. Jaye had been horrified by the recounting of the boy’s murder, the description of how the kidnapper had held Harlow down and snapped off her finger.

  Jaye could hardly fathom the terror and pain Anna must have overcome to escape with her life. She had been in awe of her. But unforgiving.

  She forgave now. Now she understood.

  Jaye closed her eyes. She breathed deeply, drawing strength from thoughts of her friend. What did she know about her captor? Jaye asked herself. She had seen his hands. They were strong-looking, though not overly large. The dusting of hair on their backs and on his forearms was dark. She deduced he was a dark-haired man of medium height, somewhere between the ages of thirty and fifty.

  He had planned well for this, that was obvious. The pet door had been recently installed, the window freshly boarded. He had considered her every need ahead of time—toilet and facial tissue, soap and other toiletries, a change of clothes, though she hadn’t touched them.

  That meant he was careful, that he thought things through. That, most probably, he had preselected her. No doubt it had been he who had been following her, the old pervert as she had called him. Following and watching, learning her schedule and when she was most vulnerable, waiting for the right moment to snatch her. But why her? What about her fulfilled his twisted needs? She wasn’t wealthy, so ransom wasn’t his motive. So, he must want her for something else. Something…awful. And sick. Jaye swallowed hard. She wasn’t naive. She knew what happened to kids who were abducted. She wished to God she didn’t.

  Suddenly, Jaye became aware of a rustling from the other side of the door. The sound was small, somehow hesitant. Different from the ones she had heard before. A lump in her throat, Jaye turned her gaze toward the locked door.

  “Hello? Are you there?”

  The voice, though slightly raspy, belonged to a girl. Jaye froze. She looked toward the door. Another girl? Could it really be?

  She climbed off the cot and crept toward the door, heart thundering. It could be some sort of trick. It could be her helpless imagination playing with her.

  The child spoke again. Her voice shook. “Are you…I don’t have much time. If he…finds out, he’ll be angry with me.”

  “I’m here,” Jaye said, eyes flooding with tears. She had never been so grateful for anything as she was to hear this girl’s voice. “Open the door. Let me out.”

  “I can’t. It’s locked. He has the key.”

  Jaye swallowed the despair that rushed up inside her. “Can you get it? Please, you have to help me.”

  “I can’t…I—” The girl whimpered, obviously frightened. “I just came to… He wants you to
be quiet. He’s getting angry with you. And when he gets that way he…scares me. He—”

  Jaye grabbed the doorknob and shook it. “Help me. Let me out!”

  The child on the other side of the door whimpered again and Jaye sensed her backing away from the door. “You have to be quiet,” she whispered. “You don’t understand. You don’t know.”

  “Who are you?” Jaye shook the knob again, voice rising in terror and frustration. “Where am I? Why is he doing this to me?”

  “I shouldn’t have come! He’ll know…he’ll…find…”

  The girl’s voice faded away and Jaye pounded on the door, desperate. “Don’t go! Please don’t… Don’t leave me.”

  Silence answered her. She was alone again.

  CHAPTER 23

  Saturday, January 20

  8:15 a.m.

  Anna awakened groggy from another night of tossing and turning. She had been exhausted and should have slept well, but instead had found her dreams plagued by images of children playing a dangerous game of hide-and-seek with an unseen monster, one who always lurked just beyond Anna’s field of vision.

  She climbed out of bed and slipped into her old chenille robe and fuzzy slippers. She crossed to the French doors that led to her narrow balcony. The day was bright and crisp-looking, the sky a brilliant, cloudless blue.

  Huddled in their coats, Dalton and Bill sat at a table in the courtyard below. Steam rose from their mugs of coffee; between them sat a plate of what looked to be croissants and fruit. Smiling to herself, Anna cracked open the door and poked her head out.

  “Morning, boys,” she called. “Have you lost your minds? It’s freezing out there!”

  Dalton twisted to look up at her, patting his mouth with a napkin as he did. “The weather guy promised a warming trend. It’s supposed to reach fifty today.”

  “A regular heat wave,” Anna said, shivering. “Don’t forget the cocoa butter.”

  “It’s all mind over matter.” Bill motioned her. “Come join us. We have an extra croissant and plenty of fruit.”