“Aw, come on you guys. They’re fun.” Dawn sounded close to the phone.
“Derek says he doesn’t have enough pockets for his phone,” Leslie told her sister.
“Then tell him to leave his phone in his truck. We’ll have our phones. We have to be in the same costumes. He can’t cop out and change his pants so he can carry his phone. So not cool.”
Derek could almost picture the eye roll Dawn gave him.
Leslie came back on. “You heard that, right?”
He heard it. He didn’t like it, but if Dawn insisted he wear the same outfit, he would do it. Their costumes represented their new friendship, and for Derek, the evening marked an important milestone—he’d won the trust of the entire Moore household. Even Shelley had warmed up to him. It gave him a sense of belonging; he had become part of a family.
“You need to get dressed, Leelee. We’ll be late.”
An uncomfortable twinge raked across his gut. “Late? I thought we weren’t meeting there until seven. It’s not even six yet.”
“We’re getting there early.” Leslie’s tone changed to right above a whisper. “I have a surprise for you.”
He tossed his hat on the kitchen table. “What surprise?”
“Just meet me in that room we found behind The Abbey at seven. I’ll show you what I have planned.”
He played with a loose green thread in his sombrero, the uneasiness in his gut not letting up. “Why would you want to meet in the cells? I thought The Abbey creeped you out?”
“I can stand it for one night. Besides, it’s only a place to meet. We won’t be hanging around there for long.”
“We won’t?” He became suspicious. “Please tell me this isn’t a scary surprise.”
“No way! You’re going to love it.”
The front door opened. Carol Foster rushed inside, her arms laden with file folders, a laptop bag hanging from her shoulder.
“Hey, Mom.” Derek ran to help her. “What you got there?”
Carol handed him the pile in her arms. “Cases from the firm. Mr. Garrison wants me to go through them and type up the notes he made. He even gave me the office laptop to bring home. It will probably take me all weekend, but he’s paying me, so I don’t mind one bit.”
Carol kicked the door closed and set her purse and keys on a table by the door.
“Is that your mom?”
“Hold on,” he told Leslie as he carried the files to their kitchen table.
He set them down and picked up his phone. “Yeah, Mom just got home from work. She went in today to get caught up and came home with more work from the law firm.”
Carol took off her gray pantsuit jacket and set it on the table next to the files. “Is that Leslie?”
He put the phone up to her.
“Leslie, tell your dad thank you again.” She went to the coffeemaker and took the empty pot to the sink. “The job is wonderful. The Garrisons are giving me more and more to do every day.”
“I’m so glad everything is working out,” Leslie called to her. “I’ll tell Dad when I see him later tonight. He and Mom went to the party at the brewery.”
Derek watched his mother refill the coffeepot with water and chat with his girlfriend. To see her doing so well gave him a profound sense of relief. Her eyes brighter, her waiflike figure filling out her new pantsuit, she was more vibrant than he could remember.
He could finally look to the future with excitement instead of worry. How had he gotten so lucky? A great mom, a girlfriend who he loved, and a family who filled him with hope.
“Leelee!" Dawn shouted. “Get off the phone. You have to get dressed now.”
A strange rustling sound erupted over his speaker.
“Everything okay?”
“Leelee will see you at the party, Derek,” Dawn said.
“Okay. Tell Leslie, I love—”
Click.
That’s weird.
Carol spooned a measure of coffee in the top of the maker. “What was that about?”
He set his phone on the kitchen table. “I think Dawn was mad Leslie hadn’t dressed yet for the party.”
Carol flipped on the coffeemaker, checking out his outfit. “What are you? A pirate?”
“No.” He picked up his sombrero and put it on his head. “Leslie, Dawn, and I are going as the three amigos.”
Carol chuckled and lifted the brim of his hat. “Lose the sombrero; keep the mask. You’re more convincing as a pirate.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
A bouquet of fresh daisies sat in a green glass vase on top of his ice chest. He arranged the stems, wanting them looking perfect for when she walked into his cell. The burning candles filled the room with the sweet scents of honeysuckle and rose.
On the cot, set out precisely so he could easily reach for them, were a roll of duct tape, handcuffs, a hunting knife, lighter fluid, and the finishing touch for his night of fun—his Michael Myers mask.
Beau stood in the corner of the room, close to the entrance. He wiped one sweaty palm down his black pants, and then rubbed the smudge away from his black combat boots. He glanced at the mask on the cot. At the end, when the essence of life left her eyes, he would reveal himself. To make sure his face was the last she ever saw again.
He’d fantasized about the idea, but there were times he doubted his dream would come true. Like an Olympic athlete, he’d trained his entire life for this defining moment.
The sound of shuffling, like someone trying to get through the crack in the wall, came from the corridor.
She’s here.
He retrieved the mask from the cot and quickly put it on.
An audible gasp drifted into his room.
The voice was definitely female.
Beau grinned. She was right on time.
A clap of energy surged through him. He peeked at her through the doorway, holding his breath, afraid to make a sound and scare her away.
She came down the corridor to the light. All in black, with a red sash around her waist, she had a sombrero on her head, a black mask around her eyes, and a bottle of champagne in her hand.
He waited as she inched closer, anxious to get his hands around Leslie’s throat.
She stuck her head in the door and glanced around.
Beau stayed to the shadows, his back pressed against the stone wall.
He jumped her when she turned her head and slapped his hand over her mouth. The champagne bottle tumbled to the floor by the entrance, shattering with an explosive pop.
She struggled against him like he knew she would. The sombrero was squashed between them, almost making him laugh. With one hand around her mouth and the other around her neck, Beau dragged her to the cot. A quick jerk ripped off the flimsy hat. He took in her pinned up, dirty-blonde hair.
She screamed as he forced her to the floor. He snatched up the duct tape and then wrapped it snugly over her mouth.
Her mewing cries filled him with such satisfaction.
He peered into her deep blue eyes. “No one can hear you, my Leslie.”
She fought against him even more. He liked that. Sitting on top of her, he retrieved the handcuffs from the cot, flipped her over on her stomach. Her hands secured he could now have his fun.
Beau undid a few of the pins holding up her hair. He played with her shoulder-length blonde tresses, reveling in the silkiness. Then, he picked up the knife, sizing up which end of her costume to start with—the top or the bottom.
Decisions, decisions.
He wanted to see her breasts. Beau carefully cut the black shirt away from her chest, making sure not to leave a mark on her, and then removed her bra. He would wait to see her entire naked body before he chose where to make his first cuts.
Her struggles lessened when the cold air hit her breasts. Her nipples perked up and he licked his lips, enjoying the display.
To cut her pants away took some skill, but by the time he snapped her underwear off, he felt proud of his accomplishment. He’d removed every
stitch of her clothing without so much as a scratch.
Beau hoisted Leslie off the floor and placed her on the cot.
“You wanted your first time to be special. I’m going to give you the night of your life.”
She didn’t fight him as he secured her handcuffs to the pipes. He didn’t like that. In his fantasy, he’d imagined her resisting so much more.
Inspecting her slender body and long legs, he smelled her skin, eager to fill his nostrils with her heavenly scent. Unfortunately, the heady scent of honeysuckle from the candles obliterated her faint perfume. Damn!
Irritated one pleasure had been denied, he wanted to feel her naked against him. He kicked off his boots, slid out of his pants, and discarded his underwear. His mask stayed on; it made him feel powerful.
She kicked her legs when he climbed on top of her. There was his girl. Her resistance aroused him. It was what he had longed for.
“That’s it, Leslie. Fight me. Don’t make it easy.”
She thrashed harder, trying to free her hands from the pipe.
“Keep that up, and you might cut yourself.” He laughed—sounding cold just like his old man. “I don’t want you bleeding yet.”
He savored the feel of her in his hands and raked his nails down her chest. Finally, he had the girl he’d been obsessing over for months. He wanted to make his enjoyment last.
From her ankles to her stomach, he deposited tender kisses, still trying to catch her scent. When he licked her nipples, Leslie kicked again. She caught him in the stomach, provoking Beau’s rage.
“You’re going to pay for that.”
With a closed fist, he knocked her back on the cot. Blood blossomed from her nose, dripping down the duct tape over her mouth. He delighted at the sight. He went back to kissing her thighs, but soon his kisses turned into bites. Beau sank his teeth into her flesh and she bucked in pain.
He went a little crazy, ripping into her breasts, tearing at her nipples. The taste of blood turned him on more than seeing her naked.
But the biting got boring, and he yearned to move on to the climax of the evening.
“Now to the good part. I’ve had a few virgins in my time, but I always wanted you.”
Beau pried her knees apart, throbbing with anticipation. He had not brought any condoms with him, wanting to enjoy every inch of her.
Holding his breath, he braced her hips and thrust hard and fast into her, eager to make sure it hurt.
Leslie let go a muffled scream.
“How’s that feel? Was it worth the wait?” He put his mouth to her ear. “All those times you laughed at me, all your comments, your bitchy attitude, I swore this moment would come. I promised you I would make you mine.”
Eager to enjoy his fantasy to the fullest, he took Andrea’s red scarf from the wall and cinched it around her throat.
Leslie gasped for air as blood continued to flow from her nose.
The metallic scent blended with the perfume from the candles around him as he rammed into her, tightening his grip on the scarf. He was high, like a bird, soaring with his ecstasy. He had conquered her impudence, broken her will, and it took away his anger.
Then the rush; the wave of power he felt with the others, but with her, it was so much more. This bliss he equated to heaven. What the angels sang about, the prophets preached, and the regular people hoped to attain. But he had captured it here with his Leslie.
“Can you feel it?” He slammed harder into her. “So good. This was meant to be.”
Before he knew it, a flood of satisfaction overtook him. He let out a low, guttural scream as he released into her.
He collapsed on top of Leslie. The night had even been better than anticipated.
Panting, Beau pushed up on his elbow and noticed she was very still. He slapped Leslie’s face repeatedly, wanting to make sure she stayed conscious. He had much more fun planned.
She trembled when he gripped her hips. The fear oozing from her was sublime.
Beau flipped her over on the cot. He ran his hands over her butt, relishing the smoothness of her skin, the purity of the color.
“Now, to the real prize. I’ve always wanted to take a girl’s ass.”
Leslie thrashed as he held her hips to his. To stop her wiggling, he yanked at the red scarf, jerking her neck back and holding the fabric in his teeth. He wished he could feel his hands around her neck but needed them.
He spread her butt cheeks apart, spat into his free hand like the video online had recommended to heighten his pleasure, and then forced himself inside her.
Leslie arched on the bed, screaming with all her might. He could feel her every muscle shaking. She crumpled onto the bed, giving in to him completely.
It was better than he expected. The power it gave him over her was the real thrill.
He didn’t last long, and after he groaned into her back, he pushed her away.
His fantasy fulfilled, he sat on the edge of the bed, watching her sob into the cot. He didn’t like the sound—he wanted silence, so he punched the back of her head.
After a minute, Beau became concerned because she wasn’t moving. He shook her, but nothing. Not even a moan. He checked. She was still alive.
“Pity we can’t have another go, but I have to make sure they don’t find you.”
He unhooked the cuffs from her wrists and discarded them. Lifting her battered and bloody body from the cot, he thought it a shame he couldn’t keep her somewhere, to revisit again and again.
Might have to look into that for my future ladies.
Once he had positioned her on the floor, he set her hands over her chest like a corpse. She would be one soon enough.
He put his pants on and then went into the corridor. After collecting several handfuls of dry leaves and twigs, he drizzled them around her. He also added her cut up clothes and sombrero to the pile. For the final touch, he doused everything with lighter fluid.
A nice slow burn was what the internet advised to destroy a body.
Beau set a few of the candles on the floor next to the debris.
After gathering up his things and returning them to his duffel bag, he examined the room. He would miss the cozy little space. So many fond memories had been created there.
Leslie had not moved the entire time. He figured she was almost as good as dead. Just about to leave the cell, his bag over his shoulder, he glanced back at her.
“The best and last night of your life, eh, girl?” He removed his mask, making sure she saw his face, and then tossed it on top of her.
Snickering under his breath, he left.
Once outside the cells, Beau sucked in the crisp night air, invigorated. His fingers and toes tingled with his power. Why couldn’t he feel like this all the time?
He eased forward, letting his eyes grow accustomed to the night, the grass knocking against the legs of his black jeans. His desire for another crept into his thoughts. But who would replace Leslie? Who would be his next prize?
Ahead, something moved at the edge of the fountain.
He squinted to get a better view. He wished he hadn’t. Three large dogs had gathered at the fountain. Their eyes on him, they snarled and hunched their backs, ready to attack.
His euphoria spiraled into fear.
Beau took off at a run for the brush, determined to get out of there before the dogs came after him.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Derek climbed from his blue pickup and checked Leslie’s car, which was parked next to his. The lot was pretty full—the collection of cars ran the gambit from a high-end Mercedes to his beat-up truck. The one car he did not see was Beau’s. Perhaps he had caught a break and could enjoy an evening at the river without running into that idiot Devereaux.
With his sombrero in his hand, he followed the techno beat to the beach, ready to enjoy a night with his best girl.
And the surprise she had waiting for him? Hopefully, it involved something away from the noise of the party.
"Buck it up, Foster. I
t’s a party. You’re supposed to have fun.”
A night of binging Netflix and popcorn was a whole lot more palatable than this.
His feet slipping on the well-trod pine needles, he got down the embankment to the beach.
When he landed on the sand, he adjusted his black mask and pulled the aggravating sombrero on his head. Ready to put on a good show for Leslie. Anything to make her happy.
He searched the crowds, but there were too many people to locate Dawn. He stuck to the line of trees and thick green bushes, avoiding the partygoers and anxious to get to Leslie in the cells.
At the divide where The Abbey property began, a handful of revelers with vapid gazes drew his attention away from the rusted gate. Their heads raised to the sky and their mouths open, a few even held up phones videotaping something.
He looked up, following their line of sight. A trail of smoke rose in the air. It came from The Abbey.
“Oh my God.”
He pushed the gawkers out of his way, horrified. Derek tossed his hat and mask to the side and dashed through the gate.
Others joined him along the way. Princess Leia, Han Solo, Captain America, Iron Man, and Wonder Woman tossed their shields, golden lassos, and lightsabers aside, running across the high grass.
* * *
Beau rushed along, batting low-hanging twigs out of the way, still terrorized by the devilish creatures. He hugged the rim of the beach to avoid being seen by the partygoers. Seized by cramps, he stopped to catch his breath. He would come back with his shotgun and make sure he eliminated every one of those damned dogs. They would never interfere with his plans again.
Shouting arose from the outskirts of the party by the iron gate. His head popped up. What was that?
The thump of the music abruptly stopped.
“Fire! The Abbey’s on fire.”
His little pyrotechnic show must have spread past the cells. So be it. That old wreck needed to go up in a ball of flames.
He wondered what it looked like. It would be something everyone in the town would talk about for decades to come.
Death by the River (A St. Benedict Novel Book 1) Page 30