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

by J. T. Ellison

  “Are the police here? Did they get—”

  “No police. Just me.”

  Jaye’s eyes widened. “But they…got him. Right? They—”

  “No.” Anna caught her friend’s hands, squeezing them tightly. “He told me he would kill you if I didn’t come. He said he would kill you if I contacted the police.”

  “No.” A moan slipped past Jaye’s lips. “He’s not going to let us escape. He hates you, Anna. I don’t know why, but—”

  “I do. It’s the man who kidnapped me twenty-three years ago. He intends to finish what he started.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I’m so sorry I got you into this. But I’m going to get you out, I promise.”

  She tugged on Jaye’s hand. “My car’s about a mile up the road. There’s a service station just beyond that. We can make it, Jaye. We can.”

  “Not without Minnie. I can’t leave her.”

  “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know. I thought… We haven’t spoken since the night he moved us.”

  “Let’s look. If she’s here, we’ll find her.”

  But they didn’t. A search of the cabin’s other two rooms revealed no sign that the other girl had ever been there.

  Jaye started to cry. “What’s he done with her? I can’t go without her, Anna. I won’t!”

  From somewhere behind the cabin came the sound of an outboard motor. Anna caught Jaye’s shoulders, forcing her to look her in the eyes. “She wasn’t a part of this, Jaye. Not really. He wanted me. He needed you to get to me. But Minnie’s been with him a long time. He’s hidden her somewhere, but she’s safe. If we can get to the police, they’ll find her. Please,” she finished, tightening her grip, the sound of the motor drawing closer, “we have to go. We can’t help her if we don’t get the police.”

  The rumble of the motor stopped abruptly. A moment later, Anna heard the sound of feet pounding on the dock. She grabbed Jaye’s hand and they sprinted for the door. They ran through it and down the stairs.

  Jaye was having trouble keeping up. She stumbled once, then again. Anna caught her arm, steadying her.

  A high, thin scream broke the silence. Jaye stopped and swung back toward the cabin. “Minnie? Minnie!”

  “Run, Jaye!” a girl shouted. “Don’t stop! Run for the road, the police will come. I called them, I—”

  The girl’s words ended abruptly, as if she had been forcibly silenced. A cry of denial ripped past Jaye’s lips and she started for the cabin.

  Anna grabbed her arm, stopping her. “Jaye, no! You can’t—”

  “I can’t leave her!” Her friend wrenched her arm free. “I won’t!”

  She started to run. Anna caught her easily. “I’ll go back. Not you, Jaye. Go for the road—”

  “But I promised I wouldn’t leave her!” Tears streamed down her friend’s cheeks. “We promised each other we wouldn’t let him—”

  “I’ll go. I won’t let him hurt her.” She shook her friend. “It’s me he wants, not you. Get the police, Jaye. It’s the only way.”

  Jaye hesitated a moment more, then nodded. Anna hugged her, eyes flooding with tears. “I love you, Jaye. Be careful. Promise.”

  She hugged her back. “I promise. You, too.”

  Anna had to force herself to let go, to take a step back. “Go,” she said, giving Jaye a gentle nudge. “Get the police.”

  They parted. Anna took one last glance over her shoulder, then hurried toward the cabin. A prayer played repeatedly in her head. That Jaye escaped. For Minnie’s safety. That she could find the strength to do this.

  Dear God, she was afraid.

  Heart in her throat, she climbed the stairs, her every instinct warning her to flee. To join Jaye at the road.

  She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t leave Minnie alone. She had promised Jaye; she knew what it was to be alone and at the mercy of a madman.

  Anna reached the door and pushed it open. She stepped inside. She saw that the room was empty and took another step in.

  The door snapped shut behind her.

  “Hello, Harlow. Welcome to your nightmare.”

  She whirled around. A sound of shock, of disbelief, slipped past her lips. She had expected to see Kurt standing behind her.

  Instead, she came face-to-face with Ben. And he had a gun.

  She shook her head. It couldn’t be. Not Ben. Not sweet, funny Ben.

  He trained the gun on her chest. “I see by your expression that you expected someone else. Someone named Kurt.”

  She opened her mouth to respond, but found she couldn’t and closed it again.

  “I suppose a formal introduction is in order.” He smiled, the curving of his lips obscene. “Adam Furst, at your service.”

  She fought to get a grip on her fear, on her disbelief. She found her voice, though it trembled when she spoke. “All along…everything…it was you, Ben?”

  “Ben? That wimp? That…nothing?” He made a sound of disgust. “‘I love you, Anna,’” he mocked the other man. “‘Please don’t tell me it’s over.’ He makes me sick.”

  Anna wetted her lips, dropping her gaze to the gun, then returning it to his. She could see the difference in the two men, now that she looked closely. Adam’s features were harder than Ben’s, his eyes colder. He held himself differently as well. This was an aggressive man. An angry one.

  “You and Ben, you’re…twins?”

  His mouth thinned with fury. “Stupid bitch, don’t make that mistake again. I’m no part of Ben. We’re nothing alike. Nothing!”

  She took a step backward. “Where’s Minnie? What have you done with her?”

  At the mention of the girl, his expression changed from one of fury to self-satisfaction. “Our little Minnie’s a pain in my ass most of the time, but she certainly came in handy. Did you like her letters?”

  “You made her write them.”

  “Yes.”

  “You sent the tapes to my family and friends. You kidnapped Jaye. You…killed those other women.”

  “Yes and yes. Ingenious, I know.”

  He was so proud of himself. “Not ingenious. Sick.” She curved her hands into fists. “You’re sick and evil. I feel sorry for you.”

  Furious color flooded his face. Whatever button she had pushed was a hot one. Fear shot through her, and she took another step back.

  “He said that. The bastard. He’s dead now.”

  “So kill me.” She forced the fear out of her voice. “Get it over with.”

  The breath shuddered past his lips. “A quick death? I don’t think so, Harlow. That wouldn’t be good enough for you.”

  “You want me to suffer. To be afraid.”

  “That’s right.” He took a step toward her, expression twisted with hate. “And I want you to keep suffering. Before it’s over, I want you to wish you were dead. The way I wished it.”

  The door behind him eased open. The police. Jaye had gotten through. Anna struggled to keep her gaze trained on him; if she didn’t, if she let the hope show on her face, she would give them away.

  “But why?” she asked, inching backward again. “Why do you hate me so much? What have I ever done to you?”

  “Bitch! Betrayer!” The words exploded from him. “You have no idea what real fear is. Real fear is lying in bed at night and waiting for him to come. Because you know he will. He always does. But for what? That’s the question. Sometimes it’s to inflict physical pain. Other times it’s for sex. Sometimes he simply comes for your tears. For your pleas for mercy. It’s a game, you see. Our pain and humiliation is his pleasure. The greater ours, the greater his.”

  Anna brought a hand to her mouth, sickened by what this man had been forced to endure, most probably as a young child. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I am. But I don’t know what this has to do with—”

  “I took that for him,” he went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “For all of them. Because of you. You and that old bitch—”

  Behind him, the door flew open.

 
Not the police, Anna realized, a cry ripping past her lips. Jaye. She hadn’t run, she hadn’t gone for help.

  The girl leaped at Adam’s back, attaching herself to him, digging her nails into his shoulders. He howled and stumbled, the gun slipped from his grasp. It hit the floor.

  Anna dived for it; he kicked it beyond her grasp. He swung sideways, freeing himself of Jaye. She careened backward, slamming into the wall, her head snapping back against it.

  “Jaye!” Anna cried, swinging toward her friend. “No!”

  “I’m oka—The gun!”

  Anna scrambled for it. Too late, Adam got it first. He curved his hands around the grip, rolled then leaped to his feet, the weapon aimed at Anna.

  Jaye launched herself at him once more. “What have you done with Minnie!” she screamed. “If you’ve hurt her, I’ll—”

  This time, she didn’t get ahold of him. He caught her easily, pinning her to his chest. She fought like a tiger, kicking and cursing him. “If you’ve hurt her, I’ll kill you! I swear I will.”

  Adam laughed. “I see that,” he murmured. “I’m really scared.”

  “Minnie!” she screamed. “Minnie, where are you!”

  Suddenly, Adam released Jaye. A violent shudder racked his body; he looked away, then back. Anna caught her breath. His face was changed, softer-looking, more open and younger. He curled his arms around his middle, hunching into himself, as if trying to make himself as small as possible.

  “I’m here, Jaye,” he said, voice a girlish whisper. “I’m here. He hasn’t hurt me.”

  Anna froze. Jaye scooted backward, her expression horrified. “Mi—Minnie?”

  Adam held his hand out, gun dangling from it. His eyes filled with tears. “You’d be so proud of me, Jaye. I was so afraid, but I did it. I called Detective Malone, the one Ben told me about. He’s coming with the police, he—”

  Another shudder racked Adam’s body. With it, he transformed again. His face and stance altered. The softness and insecurity disappeared, replaced by fury. Fury fueled by hatred.

  Anna struggled to make sense of what she had just seen. She glanced at Jaye. Her friend sat on the floor, back pressed to the wall, eyes wide with terror. With disbelief.

  Adam and Minnie were the same person. But how could that be? How—

  “You like boating, Harlow? Or are you afraid of the water? You used to be, a long time ago. Remember? You were afraid of all the slimy, slithery things hiding in the dark.”

  She had been afraid of the water, a long time ago. But how did he know that?

  She shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He grinned. Something about the way his lips stretched over his teeth made her shudder. “Liar.” He glanced at Jaye. “Get to your feet. We’re going for a little ride, the three of us.”

  “No!” Anna took a step toward him, hand out. “Please, let her go. She has nothing to do with this.”

  “The way we had nothing to do with you? She comes.”

  “Please, you promised.” Desperation crept into her tone. “You said if I followed your instructions, you’d let her go.”

  “That’s the thing about promises, princess. They’re only as good as the person who makes them. You of all people should understand that.”

  “No, I don’t understand. Why are you doing this? Why—”

  “Would you prefer I shoot her now?” He cocked the weapon. “I don’t have a problem with that.”

  “No!” Anna threw herself in front of Jaye. He pulled the trigger. The gunshot reverberated through the cabin. The bullet whizzed by her head, hitting the wall, splintering it.

  “Now then,” he murmured, “it’s time to go.”

  CHAPTER 65

  Wednesday, February 7

  3:45 p.m.

  Minnie’s call had come from a marina named Smiley’s, located just off the old Manchac Bridge, only a couple of minutes up ahead. Quentin flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. He had made great time, just under thirty minutes.

  It had felt like an eternity.

  His captain had called him with directions to the marina while en route. She had contacted the local police; they would be waiting for him when he arrived. Johnson had returned from the computer imaging center before they had hung up: the photo of Ben and Anna was a work of fiction. It had been generated by computer, using several different images.

  Quentin swore. Ben had created the image to divert suspicion from himself. Why hadn’t he checked the photo’s authenticity before?

  Quentin reached Smiley’s. As his aunt had promised, the local boys were waiting for him. Quentin slammed out of his vehicle and strode toward the ranking officer. “Detective Quentin Malone, NOPD.”

  “Davy Pierce, sheriff’s deputy.” They shook hands. “Your captain filled us in. We’re ready to help in any way we can.”

  “Thanks, Deputy Pierce. I appreciate that.”

  The man smiled. “Call me Davy. We’re pretty informal around here.”

  Quentin returned his tense smile. “I’ll do that. What do you have so far?”

  “Not much. We found Anna North’s car a mile up the road. No sign of her. Keys were in it.”

  “Shit,” Quentin muttered. “The attendant see—”

  “Negative. Didn’t even see her drive by.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Come on. I’ll introduce you.” They started across the parking lot, the shell gravel crunching under their feet and coating the toes of their shoes with a fine white dust. “His name’s Sal St. Augustine. He’s lived here all his life. If anybody can help you, he can.”

  Sal turned out to be a wizened old man with sun-browned skin the texture of alligator hide. His deeply set blue eyes seemed to miss nothing as he studied Quentin. “What can I do for you?” he asked.

  “Looking for a woman, red hair, real attractive. She was driving a white Toyota Camry—”

  “The one Davy and his boys found parked up the road.” He shook his head. “Didn’t see her. I must have been servicing a boat.” He indicated the dock behind the building. “I’m the only station around these parts. I stay pretty busy.”

  Quentin couldn’t quite hide his frustration. “How about a young girl, eleven or twelve years old? She made a call from your pay phone. About an hour ago.”

  Sal removed his baseball cap and scratched his balding head. “Don’t recall no young girl either. Man used the phone. Weird guy. Real quiet.”

  Quentin narrowed his eyes. “What did he look like?”

  “Dark hair. Kind of curly.” Sal slipped the cap back on, tugging it low on his forehead to protect his eyes from the fierce sun. “Thin. Pale.”

  “Pale,” Quentin repeated. “He wearing a hat?”

  Sal squinted in thought. “Nope.”

  That basic description fit Ben Walker and the man Louise Walker had described for the police artist. He glanced at Davy. “Get one of your guys to give my captain a call. Ask her to fax over the computer-enhanced sketch of Adam Furst and the photo of Ben Walker.”

  “You got it.” While Davy did that, Quentin turned his attention back to Sal. “This guy, you ever seen him before?”

  “Handful of times in the past couple of weeks, never before that. He’s not from around here, that’s for sure.”

  “He’s gone now?”

  “Left the way he came. By boat.” He pointed. “I filled him up ‘fore he went.”

  Quentin turned toward the water, squinting in thought. Fishermen had skin the color of Sal’s and Davy’s. They were a hardy breed with a healthy respect for the sun. So what was a thin, pale, hatless guy doing filling up a boat in an area used almost exclusively by fishermen?

  Quentin waved the other detective over. “This is our guy. I know it.”

  Sal spoke up. “There’re a couple of camps close by. Owners rent them out.”

  “Where?”

  He pointed up the waterway. “Only two ways in or out. Boat and the road out front. It dead-ends abou
t three miles up.”

  But the water didn’t dead-end. Lake Maurepas fed into dozens of bayous and other small tributaries, many navigable. Many of which snaked their way through land that could be traversed by foot.

  The son-of-a-bitch planned to escape by boat.

  Quentin looked at Davy. “He’s going by water.”

  “Boats are on their way. Just in case, let’s set up a roadblock out front. I’ll get a team of uniforms to check out those camps.”

  “Warn your men to use extreme caution,” Quentin murmured, gaze still on the water. “This guy’s a killer.”

  * * *

  Within five minutes the sheriff’s department’s three powerboats had arrived and two teams of deputies had been assembled to search the camps. Quentin chose to go by boat; he believed that avenue would provide the best chance of getting his hands on Adam. And of saving Anna.

  As he and the Manchac deputies boarded the powerboats, a fisherman pulled up to the dock for fueling. His was a small flat-bottom boat fitted with a Yamaha outboard motor. The aluminum pirogue-style boat had been designed to navigate through the shallow, vegetation-choked waters of the swamp and bayous.

  Quentin drew his eyebrows together. If he was about to do what Ben Walker planned, he would want to do it in the deserted backwaters, away from the view of others. He would want to leave the bodies where they would never be found, where, after the alligators had finished with them, there would be little left to find.

  And then he would walk away.

  “Sal!” he shouted. The other man looked over and Quentin indicated the small craft. “That the kind of boat our guy had?”

  With a nod, Sal indicated it was. Quentin hopped off the speedboat and back onto the dock.

  “Malone,” Davy shouted over the roar of the engines, “what are you doing?”

  “Change of plans. I’ve found another means of transportation.”

  CHAPTER 66

  Wednesday, February 7

  4:10 p.m.

  Anna held herself erectly on the pirogue’s bench seat. An insect buzzed next to her ear and she swatted at it with her bound hands. Beside her, Jaye trembled and wept quietly. They didn’t speak.