by Shari Copell
She froze as Marius exited the car. She expected to have a “whole life flashing before her eyes” moment, but didn’t. There was just regret. Her life was over at nineteen. She and Stone would never get to finish what they’d started. Wild Angel would never crash the Top 100 Billboard chart, at least not with her on guitar.
She kissed the top of Lindsay’s head. Her sister and T.J. would never get a chance to grow up.
Marius yanked the car door open and dragged Lindsay out first. Nicks squeezed her eyes shut as the girl screamed and thrashed in his arms. He carried her off into the darkness, her shrieks muffled by the gag, even more muffled the farther away he took her.
Her own breathing sounded loud to her in the silence of the dark car. Her heart hammered in her chest. He could only kill her once, but how much pain would he inflict before he did?
The real pain came from knowing her parents would never get over this. Those left behind would mourn their loss until their own lives ended. Grandma and Grandpa Whitaker, Willow, Marybeth. Dantre. Charm and Pip.
She didn’t want to be a ragged slash across their hearts, an empty space that would never be filled. She didn’t want to be a name on a gravestone or a picture to remind everyone of what might’ve been. She wanted to live and make music and get married and have children and...
Unless a miracle happened, she and Lindsay and T.J. and Stone would be nothing but painful memories for the ones they loved. Forever.
All too soon, Marius was back. She bit her lip to stifle a scream when he tore the car door open and reached across the seat for her with gloved hands.
Though Marius was extremely rough—Nicks thought he was deliberately trying to disorient her—the courtesy light at the bottom of the car door helped her gain her footing on the heaved concrete. He quickly slammed the door, plunging them both into blackness again.
There simply had to be a way to stop him from doing this. Count your steps, pay attention to how many corners you turn. She needed to be alert and listen for anything that might be of value if they got the chance to escape.
Marius clutched her right arm in a death grip as he fumbled with her keys and his coat. He was putting them into one of the voluminous pockets on the inside. It was “need-to-know” information. If she were able to knock him out, she had to get her keys.
She wondered why he’d taken her car. Surely he had one of his own, parked somewhere along their street. He wouldn’t have been able to cut the Avalanche’s tires at Tapestries then get to their house in time to wreak havoc like that if he didn’t have a vehicle.
Though he seemed to have a plan, she thought maybe at least part of it had gone wrong. He’d known her parents weren’t there, but he’d expected to find her home. It was Halloween. No one would’ve questioned a person in a mask standing on the porch. Open the door and in he comes.
He believed she’d be there, or he wouldn’t have gone in after T.J. and Lindsay like that. The man was intelligent, had pinpoint focus. He knew he wouldn’t get another shot if he screwed this one up. That didn’t make sense either. He should’ve known she wasn’t there. He would’ve noticed her car missing from the driveway.
She gasped as the light of comprehension flickered on.
He’d already made sure her car would be missing from the driveway. By burning it.
Oh my God. He didn’t think I had wheels. He thought I was stuck at home after school.
He was capable of observing her at least part of the time, but for some reason, he hadn’t made the connection between her and the Mustang. She’d barely had it two days. He probably thought it was Stone’s.
Which meant he’d fucked up by leaving his own car somewhere near their house. He would no doubt go back to retrieve it when he was...finished...with them, but he’d have to take a bus or something. He wouldn’t dare drive her Mustang into her neighborhood. And if his car sat too long, someone would report it. A connection would eventually be made between the missing Sorenson girls and his abandoned car.
But by then it would be too late for her and Lindsay. She simply had to find a way to get them out of this.
Trying to see anything in the garage was pointless, so Nicks put her other senses into play. The place smelled like a hundred years of grease, oil, and gasoline. She could hear water dripping somewhere off in the distance, echoing in the cavernous expanse. Not surprising, given the amount of rain they’d gotten so far. The roof probably leaked like a sieve.
He swept her along with him. It confused her to be propelled forward into the dark that way. She had no sense of up or down, had nothing visual with which to orient herself. She planted her feet and stiffened in resistance.
He made a noise at the back of his throat that sounded like a death rattle. “Miss Sorenson, I am losing my patience with you.” He strengthened the grip he had on her arm and picked up the pace.
As they walked, her eyes adjusted to the gloom. She began to see the outlines of various things, ghostly objects that loomed into her view and were gone just as quickly.
They passed a stepladder leaning against the wall. A four-drawer filing cabinet stood cattycorner beside it, its two middle drawers open. He then turned her around a corner to the right past a couple of fifty-five-gallon drums. She fixed all these objects in her mind as clues when she and Lindsay made their escape.
They were in a long hallway. A few more steps and she could see the soft glow of light spilling out from under a door. She frowned.
He’d somehow managed to run electricity to an interior room of this ruined building. Into the center, underground, so no one would see the light from outside.
“A very long extension cord run from the football field house,” he said, as if she’d spoken her mind aloud.
“What have you done with my sister?”
Ignoring her, he pulled the metal door open and pushed her through ahead of him. Though the door had a square window in the middle, he’d covered it with black plastic.
Her stomach heaved. He’d had a lot of time to prepare for this during his “leave of absence.” Had no one seen him coming and going back here? Probably not. He wouldn’t have come here during the day, when there were people at the school. The shrubs, small trees, and other foliage would’ve hidden the activity anyway.
They stood in what appeared to be an old locker room. Dark-green metal lockers, stained with rust, stood along one wall, some of them open. Wooden benches were bolted to the floor in front of them. Equipment—mostly football from what she could see—lay scattered all over, as if the players had been told to drop everything and run. She took it all in: an old blue leatherette massage table, blue-and-gold helmets, shoulder pads, and weight training equipment. Everything was covered with several decades of filth.
Marius had run six orange utility lights into the room, draping them across the pipes in the ceiling. Their nearly bare bulbs threw a harsh, clinical light over everything.
“Welcome to the old football field house. Of course that was well before your time, Miss Sorenson. This was last used in 1954. I used to come here often when I was a young teacher. My mind was dazzled by the possibilities presented by this secluded location.”
I’ll bet it was, you creepy fucker.
“Nicks, I’m over here!”
Lindsay. He’d removed the gag and bound her sister by the wrists to one of the pipes that ran down the wall. She was on the floor with her knees drawn up to her chest, shivering with cold and fear. The only heat in the room was that radiated by the light bulbs overhead, and that wouldn’t be enough to warm the nearly naked girl.
On the surface, it was just an old locker room. Then Nicks began to notice details. Leather cuffs hung from the coat hooks on the wall opposite the lockers. Chains. Ropes. Whips? A leather riding crop and a cat-o-nine-tails. A ball gag. Several locking collars.
She swallowed. Sweet Jesus. He was into bondage. And in this secluded location, bondage equaled torture.
“What are you going to do to me?” she whispered.
>
Marius turned to face her, tipping her chin up with one finger, forcing her to look into those sick, lifeless eyes. “Here are the rules of the game, Miss Sorenson. I don’t like boring. Boring girls don’t last very long here. Trisha Glace lasted the longest. That’s her blood staining the floor under the massage table. I leave it there as tribute. She fought hard, called me every filthy, disgusting name she could think of, but even she eventually succumbed to the pain.” He shook his head and looked at the stain, as though he were really sorry for it. “The safe word for this evening is ‘beg’, though I find begging to be a crashing bore. I lose interest very quickly when a woman pleads for her life. I enjoy them so much more when they fight.”
Nicks felt light-headed as she stared at the dark spot on the concrete. Trisha Glace was a delinquent badass, one of the girls who’d bullied her. She’d disappeared two years earlier. No trace of her had ever been found. She’d been arrested several times for shoplifting, drinking, fighting. Everyone assumed she’d run away.
Each painful breath brought clarity. He’d called it a game. A game she would never win. Oh, she might hold tight to her anger for a while and fight him, but he was going to hurt her until she begged him to stop. And begging would be her death sentence; Lindsay’s as well.
I can’t beg. I can’t break. I have to be stronger than I’ve ever been in my life. For Lindsay.
Marius stood still for a moment then he laughed. It was that porn-star gurgle that always made her sick. “I believe we’ll start with the massage table and the riding crop.”
He steered her toward the table, but she was shaking so violently it was hard to put one foot in front of the other. Clamping one hand around the back of her neck, he bent her over the table and removed the handcuffs. “Up you go, on your stomach. Press your wrists against the table legs so I can handcuff you again, Miss Sorenson.”
Like hell. Courage roared to life like a volcano inside her. Her wrists were free!
Tightening every muscle of her body, she threw her shoulders back and twisted at the same time, hoping to throw him off balance. It worked, up to a point. Nicks was delighted to see the handcuffs fly across the room and into a shower stall.
He stumbled, his arms wind-milling as he fought to stay on his feet. He finally landed on the floor in a half-crouch. Not as flat as she’d hoped, but the element of surprise had given her an advantage.
Lindsay’s terrified scream knifed through the air, filling her with even more resolve. She was going to get them out of there right-fucking-now.
Mind whirling, searching for a weapon, she bent and scooped a football helmet off the floor, snatching it up by the face guard. Slinging it over her shoulder, she advanced on him with gritted teeth. She needed to disarm him as fast as she could. Gun, knife, club. God only knew else what he had in that fugly trench coat. “Take your coat off and hand it over. Now! And don’t do anything stupid, or I’ll cave your head in.”
For as lumpy and out of shape as he was, for as much as the long coat should’ve hampered him, he was surprisingly nimble. Scuttling backward like a crab, he leapt over a bench and placed himself between her and Lindsay.
Awww, shit.
“Now what are you going to do?” His face twisted with sadistic glee. She knew what he was thinking.
Checkmate, Miss Sorenson.
She advanced on him with the helmet, but she knew he’d have Lindsay in his grasp before she could take a swing at him. “Don’t you dare touch her.”
Marius tilted his head. “Oh, dear. She’s so touchable too. I very much enjoyed touching her earlier.”
He struck like a snake, spinning, burying his right hand in Lindsay’s hair and yanking her to her feet. Her sister screamed then began to whimper as he held her against his chest. The look Marius threw Nicks was pure challenge. Taunting. Stop me. I dare you.
She watched in horror as he pulled her little sister’s head back and dropped his mouth over hers in a wet kiss. He forced Lindsay’s lips open with his tongue and thrust it deep into the girl’s mouth, making sure Nicks saw every disgusting detail.
The contents of her stomach roiled; she swallowed to keep it down. “Stop it!” Nicks hissed. “Leave her alone!”
She considered rushing forward and whacking him in the back of the head with the helmet anyway, but he’d given his maneuver some thought. With Lindsay’s head tilted back and to the side at such an odd angle, it would be easy for Marius to break her neck.
He turned his head to stare at her, all the while moving his hand up Lindsay’s side, stopping just under her bare breast. Her sister struggled furiously. “Nicks! Make him stop!”
The grin that crossed his face then was barbaric, that of a cruel conqueror. He had her, and he knew it. Lindsay was her weakness. It was why Marius had brought her along with them. To ensure Nicks’s good behavior.
“Please. Don’t. I’ll do whatever you say. Just leave my sister alone.” Nicks tossed the helmet toward the wall. It hit the floor with a sharp crack and rolled against the lockers.
Marius dropped Lindsay like a sack of rocks and stepped toward her.
They were no more than garbage to Marius. Entertainment. How did someone get fucked up in the mind like that?
“I believe we were about to handcuff you to the massage table, Miss Sorenson?” His bushy eyebrows rose with the question.
Once handcuffed, there would be no more chances for escape. Not as long as he held Lindsay over her head.
Holding her breath, she turned and headed toward the table.
“I expected the cops to be here already,” whispered Chelsea as she and Tage walked the quarter mile or so back to the crumbling garage. They’d driven into the school with the headlights off, just in case, and parked near the front entrance. Though it would take precious time, Tage thought it was a better idea to approach on foot.
“Why? They take their sweet old time with everything. I’m not sure they believed me,” Tage answered.
“Oh, God. Maybe they won’t even show up!”
“They have to. They have to investigate every call to 9-1-1 no matter how silly. They’ll be here, but I’m not waiting if they aren’t. If we find the girls, I’m going to act.”
“I wish you would think about this first. We don’t know what kind of weapons he has. At least a knife and something he used to bash Stone in the head. All we have is a damned Leatherman Sidekick.”
“What? It’s got a blade on it. Several blades, in fact. And a saw.” Tage tucked the small black Maglight she kept in her car up his sleeve so they wouldn’t be seen approaching the building.
“The blades on this thing are three inches long, for God’s sake! I’d do more damage with it if I threw it at him.”
“Stab him in the nuts then. Do whatever you have to do. It’s better than nothing.” He stopped and took her by the shoulders. “We’re going to find the girls alive and get them back. I promise.”
The first time the riding crop whistled through the air and landed across her back startled Nicks, but didn’t really hurt her. After all, she wore a long-sleeved T-shirt with a hoodie on over that.
The blows only really started to hurt when he ripped the sweatshirt off and tore the back of her shirt up the middle.
She bit her lip and stared at Lindsay across the room. The girl looked back with wide eyes. She didn’t want her sister to see this, but looking into those blue eyes helped her bear the pain. Lindsay was sobbing—Nicks could see her shoulders shaking—but she couldn’t hear a thing over the roar in her ears.
Each stinging blow made her blink, made tears come to her eyes. She gathered more of her lip between her teeth to keep from screaming. She was not going to give this bastard the satisfaction of hearing how terrified she was.
Marius caressed her bare back. “Your skin is so lovely and smooth. It’s a shame to mar it up with these angry, red welts.”
The riding crop was one thing. His hands on her were another. “Don’t touch me, you fucking pervert!” She thras
hed on the table, but her wrists were handcuffed to a leg on each side. “I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t stop touching me!”
He chuckled above her and ran his hand down over her ass. “Oh, my goodness. Such strong words, Miss Sorenson. And you have absolutely no way of making it happen. I love that you’re so fierce, but you’re helpless. That excites me. Do you know how hard I am?”
Jesus. She went limp. She’d rather have him beat her than hear him talk like that. There were no words for how repulsive this man was.
When she said nothing further, he took a step back. Nicks braced herself when she heard the hiss of the riding crop, gasping as it hit. She blinked as tears fell onto the table. That one was three times as hard as the others.
It was game-on now. Marius was preparing for round two.
Tage’s heart fell into his feet as they circled around behind the garage. It was so dark he couldn’t see a damned thing. There were no signs of life at all back here.
He didn’t want to say anything to Chelsea though. Could Asher have been wrong?
He snorted softly. He was giving credence to something a dead man had said in the back seat of his wife’s car. A dead guy! Yet he’d seen him there with his own eyes. Had been the first to see him. Asher had verbally answered Chelsea’s questions. They’d both interacted with a....ghost.
He and his wife were going to have a long talk about this once they had the girls safely home.
A chill went through him as he scanned what little he could see in the glowing circle thrown by the flashlight. It was still pouring rain. A light, swirling mist seemed to jump up out of the ground and dance in the beam of light. For one tense second, he expected to see Asher walk out of that mist.
Asher had treated Chelsea like shit when he lived, but Tage didn’t doubt he had her best interest at heart now. He’d always felt a little sorry for the man. It was clear the guitarist was still in love with his wife even as he drew his last breath. He’d been totally enamored of the baby she carried, one he’d played a part in creating but would not live to see.