Chapter Thirty
Don't kill it all in one sitting...
WHEN PENNY RETURNED TO THE STORE, she did restake her garden (with surveyor's fluorescent spray paint) and spent the rest of the afternoon stepping off what plants would go where. Mona and the city council would just have to get used to a cornfield in the city limits—she would break ground next week. She noticed the opening in the fence was still wired shut and wondered if she should talk to Hazel or Troy about having a stone path from her parking lot to the museum. It seemed silly to have such rigid fences between businesses that thrived on the same type of customer.
She took off her gloves and stretched her back. In the distance, she heard the ceremonial drums in the peristil pounding the slow, monklike rhythm and chant of their closing ceremony. She shivered. Even from here, it sounded like a death march.
Deke would never be more than a few seconds from her mind, she realized. And she would forever mourn the emotional distance she had maintained in her marriage that blinded her to Deke's dark tendencies. But she would have to accept his untimely death just as she had accepted her father's. The alternative was madness.
She turned back to the Archambault mansion, and a movement caught her eye...in the cupola, like before. It had to be a bat. But the longer she stared, the more focused the image became. It was too big to be a bat. Perhaps an eagle or a vulture had made a nest? She pulled out her binoculars and tried to find the image among the foliage. There. She focused on the object...and nearly swallowed her tongue—a hand? A hand extending from the cupola, waving a red cloth. Penny looked at her watch. The museum was closed for the day. Had someone accidentally been locked in?
She lowered the binoculars as another, darker thought came to mind—or was someone being held against their will? She pulled out her cell phone only to find the battery dead. Penny looked back over the distance to the shop, biting her lip in uncertainty. What if she raised an alarm and it turned out to be a cleaning lady?
She raised the binoculars again, but saw nothing. Was her mind playing tricks on her? She toyed with the idea of returning to call B.J., but he would be back in the city by now, and besides, she would mostly be calling because she missed him.
No, for time's sake, and the fading light, she'd investigate alone. She decided she couldn't scale the tall fence without risk of impaling herself on one of the spikes on top, so she went back to the original opening in the fence she had discovered under all the foliage. With pruning shears from her garden tool belt, she hacked at the repair wire. She made it through with only a few scratches but realized she might need some of her tools, so she squeezed back through, quickly picked through the more useful implements, then tossed her tool belt over the fence, and squeezed through again. By now she was bleeding, but adrenaline kept her moving forward. Darkness had fallen quickly, and here among the trees, the air was as black as India ink. Her old phobia nagged at her—the boogey man came out after dark, along with other, more tangible evils. If she hadn't traveled this path so many times, she wouldn't have been able to find her way. Finally she burst through the foliage and onto the path that ran alongside the house, where she had run into Deke only a few days ago.
In her mind, she was plotting the quickest way to the cupola. She had been there once, years ago, before it was boarded up. Hazel had allowed her to go up and look out over the town, but the structure had been crumbling even then. Penny reasoned the lower-level windows would have security alarms, but she remembered a second-story window that she might be able to climb to if only she had a flashlight.
Then she realized she was wearing the black coat she'd been wearing when she and B.J. had explored the pink Victorian. She shoved her hand in her pocket and was almost giddy to find the penlight B.J. had given her. She strapped on the garden tool belt, and, holding the penlight in her mouth, she did a chin up (thank you, Pilates) to pull herself up to sit on the windowsill, holding her breath while she tried to raise it. It wouldn't budge; with the penlight, she could see that the closure on the inside was secure. But one of the panes was loose, and after a bit of pressure, she was able to slip it out, then reach in and open the window from the inside.
She was in the animal exhibit room, she realized when she dropped to the floor. The stuffed and resin animals seemed more sinister in the dark, especially when her penlight made their eyes glow with a greenish cast. She took a few seconds to orient herself and calm her breathing, then she took a step toward the hallway. But she knocked over an animal, falling with it. In the process, she managed to trigger some kind of automatic recording of animals screeching and cawing, which blasted into the air. Panicked, she felt for an off button, and finally found an electrical cord, which she yanked from the wall. Suddenly, all was quiet again, except for the sound of her own labored breathing. And...
She closed her eyes so she could focus on the sound.
A faint pounding noise way above her, as if someone was...stomping their feet?
Spurred into action, she found the stairway to the third floor, then made her way up to the attic—she would have to go through it to reach the cupola. The attic door had been padlocked, but after several minutes of sawing, she was able to cut through it with a large pair of garden shears. The door led to a set of dusty stairs and up to an enormous room that was as big as the main part of the house. But the attic, like so much of the old mansion, had fallen into disrepair, and her penlight was becoming dim. She had taken only a couple of steps when the wood beneath her foot gave way and she fell through to her ankle. She cried out, but mostly in surprise. She freed herself, shed the weighty tool belt, shoved a small pair of shears into her coat pocket, and pressed forward, testing boards before putting her weight down.
When she reached the door that led to the cupola, she was met with another padlock. This one was thicker and would be harder for her to saw through with her small, dulled shears. She pounded on the door three times and put her ear up to it.
After a few seconds, she heard a distinct thump, thump, thump. She gasped—someone was there. The knowledge made her almost frantic to cut through the padlock. When the small shears were exhausted, she went back to get her tool belt and the larger shears, which made the trip back over the rotted floors more precarious. By the time she had cut through the padlock, her hands were blistered and bleeding. She swung open the door, her heart thudding in anticipation. The door opened into a cool blackness, a stone hallway of sorts that led to the cupola. The scurry of dozens of feet told her that many rats were about. She swallowed hard.
"My name is Penny," she said into the darkness. "I'm here to help you. Where are you?"
Muffled noises sounded, and she used the penlight to find her way, almost hysterical now. Suddenly she tripped over something and fell...onto a person. The penlight went flying. She cried out, and the person beneath her struggled, making muted sounds. Penny scrambled on her hands and knees to find the light and encountered at least another person before her hand closed around it. She was practically sobbing with fear by the time she clicked it on.
It illuminated the hollow-eyed face of a dark-haired woman, bound in chains and gagged. Next to her, a thin woman with white blond hair cowered against the wall. She was gagged and bound by some kind of chained leash, like a dog run. In one hand she gripped the red rag Penny had seen waving.
"Oh, my God," Penny breathed. "Are you Jodi Reynolds?"
The woman's eyes widened, and she nodded frantically.
"People are looking for you," Penny said. "I'm going to get you out of here." She removed the tape and gags from their mouths, and the women began to weep.
"They've been holding us," Jodi croaked. "Torturing us..."
"Who did this to you?"
"We don't know—they wear masks." She broke down sobbing.
"Shh," Penny said, trembling. "Save your strength."
They wear masks. She couldn't take the time to think about what these women had been through, or she wouldn't be able to think at all.
&nb
sp; But one look at their chains and she knew she didn't have the tools to get them loose. "I have to go back and get help." Both women begged her not to go, but she had no choice. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
She ran as if the demons who had tortured the women were behind her. She pounded her way across the attic floor, splintering the wood. She ran down the attic stairs, then down to the third floor and to the second floor, stumbling and catching herself every few steps. Just as she reached the second floor, the penlight went out, plunging her into darkness.
She cried out in frustration.
"Need a light?"
Penny froze with terror because the voice was so close, and so familiar.
Chapter Thirty-one
Let other friends have a taste….
A FLASHLIGHT CAME ON, illuminating Chief Allyson Davis's face, painted with dark, severe makeup.
"Penny, do you know the fine for trespassing?"
Penny searched for her voice and found it down around her knees. "Allyson...what's going on?"
Allyson pursed her dark lips. "Didn't you see upstairs? We keep pets." She smiled. "Actually, we only keep the good ones. The bad ones...well, the bad ones are recycled."
"R-recycled?"
"Killed, dissected, chopped up, ground up, sold," she said, as if she were talking about pork sausage.
"S-sold?"
"Sure—we sell worldwide. The Internet is amazing."
Penny swallowed, rigid with horror when she realized Allyson was completely insane. "Wh-who is we?"
"There are a few of us."
"Hazel?"
Allyson scoffed. "That deaf old granny? No way. We only keep her around because she can't hear enough to be suspicious. Deke was in our club for a while."
Penny felt sick. "Deke?"
Allyson sighed. "He liked the money, but he didn't have the stomach for it."
"Is...is that why he's dead?"
Allyson nodded. "Pretty much. And because he couldn't control you."
Penny's jaw loosened. "Me?"
"Yeah. We've been operating for years in isolation, and suddenly you move into the house next door, start clearing the property, breaking through the fence, sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."
Penny's mind raced. That was why Deke had discouraged her from going into business, had been so vehemently opposed to the garden; it put her even closer to danger, and their group even closer to being discovered.
"We had some good times, Deke and I," Allyson said with a grin, then sobered. "But not while you two were married, Penny—I'm not an adulterer."
Penny's stomach rolled. Just a sick sadist.
"I was waiting for the right opportunity to get you both," Allyson said. "Kill Deke, frame you. I thought the voodoo festival would be a good time." She laughed. "I went to Deke's to give him a spanking, and he told me Jimmy Scaggs had barged in, hit him on the head with the cane, and left."
"So...Jimmy didn't kill Deke."
"No. He just knocked him out." Then she smiled. "Just an appetizer, really. By the time I got there, Deke was in the mood for some real pain. I used that cane on every part of his naughty little body. He told me all his dirty little secrets, like how he'd cheated you in the property settlement. You'll be glad to know, Penny, I thrashed him for that."
That explained the bruising Maynard had mentioned. Penny struggled not to faint.
"Then I whacked him on the head and shoved one of your garden stakes through his chest. Don't you love the symbolism?"
Bile backed up in Penny's throat, gagging her.
"Deke told me he had looked for his gun after Jimmy left, that he'd called you because he thought you'd know where it was. I had a feeling that you'd drop by...because you were still in love with Deke."
Penny shook her head.
"Sure you were," Allyson said, then laughed. "Love is nothing to be ashamed of, Penny." She licked her lips. "Deke died happy."
"The v-voodoo doll?"
"Coincidence." Then Allyson scoffed. "Come on, Penny—you don't really believe in voodoo, do you? We've made a fortune off the black magic freaks, selling them remains that they think will give them some sort of magical powers." She put her hand up to her mouth in a conspiratorial gesture. "Between you and me, they're just plain old cannibals. Sickos, if you ask me."
Apparently, it took one to know one.
Penny moistened her dry lips. "Why...why are you telling me this?"
Allyson looked confused. "Well, so you'll know what to expect, of course."
Ice cold terror set up in Penny's veins.
"Surely, you don't think I'm just going to let you go? This is actually a fortunate turn of events. Now you’re simply going to disappear. There will be a note, some missing clothes, a suitcase gone from your closet." Allyson angled her head. "Well, it's not as if you have anyone to come looking for you, do you?"
Tears welled in Penny's eyes. On that account, the madwoman was correct.
Allyson raised a gun and pointed it at Penny's heart. "Let's go."
"Wh-where?"
"To the basement—that's where all the fun stuff is."
A bullet through the heart versus years of torture? Penny would have taken the former but for the fact that she was the only hope for the two women manacled upstairs. She made her feet move, keeping her eyes open for a way to escape. "Were you the person who shot at me?"
"Yes. Skinny bitch—you weren't a big enough target to hit."
When they reached the basement, Penny could almost feel Allyson's energy level rise. The woman turned on the lights, revealing her dominatrix garb of robe, corset, and boots.
"Take off your clothes."
"What?" Penny asked, horrified.
"Take. Off. Your. Clothes."
Trembling noticeably, Penny removed her clothing down to her panties and bra. Her mind reeled. She saw spots behind her eyes—what would the woman do to her if she fainted?
"That'll do," Allyson said, then gestured at the devices in the room. "What's your pleasure?"
A lump formed in Penny's throat, but she refused to cry—it would only play into the woman's sick fantasies. "You pick."
"Ooh, you're a pleaser," Allyson said. "I like that. Hm, how about the chair of nails? It's good for beginners."
Penny almost buckled, and out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a shadow on the stairwell. At first she was afraid it was more of Allyson's cronies, but then she realized that those people had no reason to be quiet. Hope billowed in her chest. She almost cried out.
"Why don't you turn on the sound track?" Penny asked. "It's too quiet."
Allyson smiled. "I know what you mean—there's nothing like the sound of people screaming to put me in the right mood." She walked to a panel and flipped a button, turning up the volume until the sounds of screeching and agony vibrated down to Penny's bones.
But it worked to mask the person's approach. Because on the stairs behind Allyson appeared a familiar set of boots, then faded jeans, then holey T-shirt and leather jacket, then B.J.'s face. He held his gun at the ready.
Penny used her peripheral vision because she didn't want to alert Allyson to his presence, but it was hard to hold back the tears of relief...and fear. Allyson would think nothing of shooting B.J. And Penny was sure his was one death she would not be able to withstand.
"Come here," Allyson said, nodding to the chair.
Penny surveyed the sharp tips of the six-inch nails set into the seat of the chair at quarter-inch intervals, and swallowed. "Do you think you can put the gun down to help me into the chair?"
Allyson smiled. "Only if you promise to behave."
"Where would I go?"
"True." Allyson set down the gun, then beckoned her forward.
Penny moved slowly to give B.J. time to advance.
"It's important you get into the chair very gently," Allyson said, then smiled. "We don't want a lot of blood the first time."
B.J. put his gun to the back of Allyson's head and shouted over the
sound track, "Freeze or I'll blow your head off!"
Allyson went rigid with surprise, her painted mouth rounded. She made a movement toward her gun, but he kicked it across the room.
"Give me a reason to pull this trigger," he said through gritted teeth.
Allyson cursed violently under her breath and put up her hands. "I prefer the giving end of pain over the receiving end." She rolled her eyes at Penny. "I knew this guy was going to be trouble the minute I saw him."
Quaking with relief, Penny ran to turn off the sound track. By the time she returned, B.J. had handcuffed Allyson and bound her ankles with a cable tie, all of which she seemed to enjoy. He turned to Penny, and she fell into him, sobbing.
"Are you okay?" he asked fiercely, covering her with his coat. "God, I was terrified of what I would find."
"How did you know?"
"The DNA results came back—the hair belonged to Jodi Reynolds."
"She's being held upstairs, with another woman."
He nodded. "I brought a team of people with me. They're swarming the building and grounds."
"They've done horrible things," Penny said, choking.
"I know," he said. "Some of the crushed bones mixture they're selling is human bones."
"Premium product at a premium price," Allyson said.
B.J. pointed his gun at her. "If you say another word, I will shoot you, do you understand?"
Allyson nodded meekly.
He looked back to Penny and his jaw hardened. "Did she kidnap you?"
"No. One of the women being held managed to get to the cupola and wave a rag. I saw it from my garden and...came to investigate."
He frowned. "Why didn't you call someone?"
She smirked, her energy returning. "A lot of good it would have done to call the police."
He leaned his head closer. "Why didn't you call me?"
A hot flush made its way up her neck. Because it was the first thing she'd thought of, and the instinctual response had spooked her. "I..."
Love Can Be Murder Box Set Page 54