Knowing I have something to prove to the team as the newest member, I’d been prepared to play dirty if I had to in order to get Serenity back to Little Rock. It doesn’t sit well taking advantage of her guilty conscience when I can visibly see that she’s suffering. Regardless, it had to be done. We need her in order for this all to end.
Whether she realizes it or not, she needs this too. She can’t spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder. She needs closure, and maybe that will somehow set her free.
Five
Ren
I’m a complete mess the next morning. I haven’t showered, and I’ve surrounded myself with all my drinking buddies. The numbness dulls the pain but doesn’t take it completely away. My thoughts still linger, and even my inebriated state can’t muffle them. So what did my twenty-four hour bender accomplish? Not a damned thing, and yet everything.
Running isn’t an option.
If I can somehow stop my father, I owe it to my mother. While I was stuck inside that cabin, I’d realized that she hadn’t run off with some guy and deserted me.
I also owe them.
Their faces are still etched into my memory. The ones that I’d watched endure insufferable torture, and the ones that had been on the news, their smiling faces forever frozen in time in old photos. The media had flashed the victims’ photos repeatedly after the bodies had been excavated and identified. Reporters are vultures, always pecking at scraps and whatever they can get their hands on to further their story and gain more viewers.
All the victims were adults. Until Detective Brooks showed up on my doorstep.
Nausea causes my stomach to constrict. He’s going after teen girls. What kind of sick fuck does that?
My father, that’s who.
The blood coursing through my veins is evil, and somedays, I don’t know how to live with that knowledge. I’ve been mostly avoiding it by running and numbing my mind with alcohol. How I haven’t turned into an alcoholic is beyond me. How do I know that I’m not? I don’t feel the need to drink during the day or my shifts at the bar. I crave it at night, and only for the sole reason of muting my mind so I can sleep.
I scrub my hands over my face and rub my sore eyes.
It’s time to face the past, because I can’t continue running from it. There’s also the possibility that he might win, and I could lose my life in my efforts to stop him.
My eyes skim the empty apartment and the bottles next to the air mattress. For the first time, I acknowledge that this isn’t living.
* * *
It’s much later in the day, and I’m feeling a little better after I’ve showered. My long hair is damp and air-drying as I move around the apartment and finish packing.
Eventually, there’s nothing left to do, and I’m holding the business card the detective had given me. His name is Holden Brooks, and he works in the Major Crimes Division in Little Rock, Arkansas. Why is a detective from Arkansas investigating my father? It’s a question I’ll have to ask when I see him.
A contact number is listed below his name, but I don’t have a phone. All my money goes into rent, gas, personal hygiene products, and liquor. I haven’t needed anything more than that, and it makes it easy to pack when I inevitably move on.
My fingertips are turning white around the nails as I grip the small card, crinkling it. There’s no going back once I agree to this. I swallow and look around the apartment. I’ve felt somewhat safe these past few years moving from town to town. If I go back to Chicago like the detective wants, I’ll be walking right back into the lion’s den.
I’m scared to death.
If this goes bad, he will kill me. I won’t suffer the rapes, but he will mutilate me, dismembering me piece by piece until I’m no longer breathing.
My stomach heaves, and I close my eyes and try to stay in the present. I need to stay strong. If I break down now, I won’t step out that door and do what needs to be done.
For the first time, I begin to wonder what might be waiting for me on the other side of this…nightmare. If he’s caught and goes to prison, I’ll no longer have to look over my shoulder. I could live my life without fear. I don’t even remember how that feels.
Am I even capable of having a normal life?
A humorless laugh escapes me, echoing around the empty room. Who am I kidding? I’m baiting a man that’s been killing for half his life, and the police can’t seem to track him down to arrest him. Odds are, he’s going to kill me and get away with it—just like he has with the rest. I’ll become another victim added to the lengthy list of his crimes. I’ll be forgotten, and those that have blamed me will be rejoice that I’d gotten what I’d deserved.
Maybe there isn’t an ‘other side’ for me, but I’ve always had an inkling that this is how it would play out. There’s something incredibly wrong with the man who’d fathered me. He’d killed my mother, and he won’t rest until I’m permanently silenced, too.
I close my eyes for a moment before slowly opening them to gaze at the apartment door. If I walk out of here and go in search of Detective Brooks—who I think is likely nearby, I’ll be sealing my fate.
My lips twist. This was my fate all along, because I certainly hadn’t had a choice of whom I was born to or what kind of life I was going to be forced to lead.
A sound of disgust escapes me.
Pity party time is over.
I move across the room and remove the chair. Refusing to allow my doubts to control me, I open the door and step into the hall. There’s no way I’m leaving the apartment unlocked. I pull my keys from my pocket and quickly lock the door before making my way down the hall. The heat from the day is stifling in the dingy hallway, and I take the stairwell located around the corner. Once I’m on the ground level, I push my way through the nearest exit.
When I step outside, the heat welcomes me. My heart sinks. I’m going to miss San Diego and the warm weather.
Knowing the Detective is somewhere within the vicinity, I scan the busy street outside the building. I have no idea what kind of vehicle he drives, and I mentally roll my eyes over the thought that I might see him before he sees me. Confident that he’ll eventually appear, I move to the side of the building and lean against it, waiting.
Sure enough, within two minutes, a dark car pulls into the side parking lot. I watch as Detective Brooks exits the vehicle and begins ambling over in a confident—distinctly authoritative walk.
I’d forgotten how good-looking the man is. Today, he’s wearing a blue shirt with jeans, and I note that he looks tanned as if he spends a lot of time outdoors. I don’t have time to think much else as he pauses directly in front of me.
“I don’t have a phone,” I say in greeting.
Damn, why does he have to be so fine? He’s got the kind of jaw that makes me want to reach up and stroke my fingers across the sexy five-o-clock shadow he has going on. I can just imagine the feel of his whiskered jaw in my hands as his mouth devours mine. Shit, shit, shit. I shut down my thoughts and recall what a jerk he’d been last night.
The detective, oblivious to my dangerous thoughts, gazes down at me. “They need you,” he says, referring to the victims.
“I know. How exactly is this supposed to play out?” I ask now that I have a firm grip on my hormones.
His eyes scan the street before sliding back to me. “Can we discuss this upstairs?”
I nod and turn, heading for the door I’d recently exited. We step inside, and Detective Brooks is silent as I lead him up the stairs and down the hall to my apartment door. After I unlock it, I swing it open and step inside.
He enters the apartment and firmly closes the door as his eyes take in my packed belongings.
I fold my arms over my chest, unable to forget how he’d used my past against me yesterday. “Tell me the plan.”
His eyes move back to mine. “It’s pretty simple. Come to Little Rock and—”
“Little Rock?” I cut in sharply. I’d known his card stated he’s from Arkansas, b
ut I’d naturally assumed the murders were happening in Chicago.
He nods grimly. “Yes, Little Rock, Arkansas. It’s where he’s surfaced and begun killing.”
This news brings a frown to my face. He’s chosen a new killing ground. Why?
“We have a job and residence already lined up for you,” he continues. “All you need to do is live your life according to your preference. He’ll eventually try to contact you, and we’ll intercept.”
I rub my temples as I turn away from him, trying to process everything. First off, I doubt they’ll be able to ‘intercept’ him. My father is a pro, and at this point, I have no faith in law enforcement. Secondly, they have a job and residence lined up? “What do you mean?” I ask, turning back around to face him.
He stands there, radiating confidence. “You’re not alone in this, Serenity,” he says in a steady voice.
My hands drop, and I give him a glare that warns I’m losing any patience I might’ve had at the beginning of this conversation. “Don’t. Call. Me. That.”
He looks taken aback by my vehemence, and I can see his scrutiny as he tries to figure me out. “What would you prefer I call you?”
“Ren.” It’s the name I’ve been going by since I’d fled Chicago.
He nods, wisely not questioning my request. “Okay. Ren. You seem to enjoy the bar environment, so we lined up a job at a bar. I’ll be working undercover with you and staying in the apartment across from yours. I’m fairly new to Little Rock, so nobody should recognize me as a detective.”
I look at him as if he’s sprouted another head. “You do realize he can’t be fooled, right?”
He nods his agreement. “I know, but we need eyes on you twenty-four/seven, and someone needs to be nearby.”
“He knows you’re coming for me,” I say, referring to law enforcement in general. If he’s leaving my photo, he knows they’ll track me down.
His eyes never leave mine. “Yes.”
“So you’re just falling into his trap?” I scoff. “He might already know where I am, thanks to you.”
He doesn’t deny it. “The sooner we leave, the better. There’s a team assembled to take him down, it’d be wise to get you back on our turf where we have the advantage.”
“You’ve already made me bait,” I realize with disgust.
He just gazes at me, not bothering to deny it.
I shoot daggers at him with my eyes as the tension-filled silence intensifies.
“There’s a flight leaving in three hours,” he says, finally breaking it.
“Forget it,” I say flatly. “I’m not leaving my car.” There’s no way in hell I’m giving up my only source of freedom. I want to be able to come and go as I please.
“We’ll be providing you with a vehicle in Little Rock.”
“I want mine.”
He shifts his stance slightly, a sure sign that this is going to be non-negotiable. “The one provided will be yours to keep after the investigation is over.”
My mouth opens to argue, and then I snap it shut. What’s the point? The odds of my survival are damn low. “Fine,” I grumble.
Six
Ren
It’s well after midnight, and I’m more than just a little exhausted. Detective Brooks had driven us straight from the airport to the apartment they’ve rented for me. After he unlocks the door and reaches in to turn on the light, he picks up my suitcase and motions me forward.
I readjust the hold I have on my backpack and tentatively step forward, scanning the kitchen. It’s a long and narrow room with cream-colored tiles and white walls. The counters are tan, and beside a double sink is a stainless-steel stove—obviously new since it’s the only stainless-steel item in the kitchen. A white refrigerator is in the corner, and the wood cupboards hovering above the counters look worn and could use some fresh staining.
A small, two-person table is situated around the corner where the kitchen opens into the main room. There are two windows covered in blinds, and my eyes skim over the brown, plush sofa.
“It’s not much, but we wanted to make certain that we didn’t stray much from the way you’ve been living the past several years,” Detective Brooks says lightly.
“I’m not picky,” I murmur.
“I’m directly across the hall, so if you need anything, you just have to knock. Tomorrow, we’ll get your car and job sorted.”
I glance at him and nod, saying nothing more. It’s been a long day, and he still looks fine as hell while I’m certain I’m showing the strain from our abrupt departure from San Diego.
Detective Brooks takes his leave, but not before disturbing the chain lock on the door as he closes it behind him.
The sound causes me to flinch, and I close my eyes tightly, trying not to fall into the memory of the sounds of the chains when the women shifted on the bed.
When I’m certain I am in full control of my mind, I kneel by my suitcase and unzip the small compartment, pulling out a screwdriver. I wasn’t sure if it’d still be there, but since the screwdriver wasn’t in my carry-on, it’d made it here to Little Rock.
I quickly but carefully remove the chain from the door, making certain to not disturb it too much so it wouldn’t rattle against the door. When it’s been removed, I close my fist around it and look around the kitchen for a garbage. A plastic one has been hidden in a little nook, and I gingerly set the chain in the bottom.
Now that it’s been removed and hidden from sight, I release an exhale. Okay, moving on. I stride to one of the chairs and secure it beneath the doorknob of the door.
I stand back and scan my work. Not bad.
Now that I’m feeling a little more secure in my new surroundings, I walk back to the main room, slinging my backpack over my shoulder and gripping my suitcase. Time to check out the bedroom.
It’s a small room with a connecting bathroom. There’s a queen-size bed waiting for me with what looks like fresh, sage green sheets. I’ve grown accustomed to sleeping on the air mattress, but right now, a real mattress looks heavenly. A nightstand is also situated next to the bed, and it’ll be the perfect place for my alarm clock.
I set the backpack and suitcase beside the bed and look at the bare, cream walls. The starkness of them remind me of myself. I’ve been running so much that I haven’t taken time to develop any interests. Superficial things and hobbies have been far from my mind when all my focus has been on survival.
Sometimes, I wonder who I would be if I’d been born to a different family.
I quickly slam the door on that thought, knowing ‘what ifs’ are a dangerous game that I’d learned long ago not to play.
After shaking off my melancholy thoughts, I peek into the bathroom. Like the rest of the apartment, the walls are a neutral cream. However, the shower tiles are an off-putting mustard yellow color. There’s a small sink with a cupboard below it, and a round mirror is attached to the wall above. In the corner, is the toilet. Everything looks clean, and that’s all I care about.
I’m exhausted, and I sit on the bed, rubbing my face. I should probably try to get some sleep since it sounds like tomorrow is going to be a busy day, but I don’t want to. I don’t have any liquor to rely on to keep the nightmares at bay.
My eyes slide to the backpack on the floor. We’d sold my car before flying out of San Diego, and I have a small stash of cash. The most I’ve ever had at one time. Detective Brooks had already stated that the apartment rent is covered, so my paychecks are mine to save or spend as I wish. The only good that’s come out of this is if I need to flee the area if this goes south, which it inevitably will, I now have the funds.
I rise from the bed and walk to one of the two windows and peek between the blinds. It’s dark outside so I can’t see much of the area. The apartment is located on the second level of the building, the layout similar to that of the one in San Diego. Except the apartment is located on the corner of the building, giving me two different views from each window—one of the side yard, and the other overlooks
the back parking lot.
Is someone watching me right now? Detective Brooks had told me that the building would be under twenty-four/seven surveillance.
Another thought hits me, and it chills me to the bone. He’s out there somewhere, right here in the same city.
A shudder treks down my spine.
* * *
The following afternoon, Detective Brooks and I exit Bull’s, a dive-bar I’ll be bartending at. We’d just met the owner, Paul. Paul happens to be a friend of Lieutenant Martinez, so he’s fully aware of my situation. I have yet to meet the other law enforcement agents that are working with Detective Brooks, and I’m perfectly fine with avoiding them. Like I said, the law and I don’t mix well.
Detective Brooks settles into the driver’s seat of the black Ford Focus as I slip into the passenger seat. This is supposedly ‘my’ car, but since I don’t know the area, Detective Brooks is driving.
This entire thing seems surreal to me. It’s happening so fast that my head feels like it’s spinning. Lack of sleep isn’t helping, either. I’m long overdue for a nap.
When I realize he’s not turning the key in the ignition, I look over and find him watching me with those steel gray eyes of his. “What?” I ask.
“What do you think?” he asks, nodding to the bar.
“I think that it feels weird securing a job without earning it,” I say honestly.
He nods. “I understand but try not to look at it that way. Besides, I’ve seen you in action, and Paul won’t be disappointed. You’ll prove you would have had the job with or without the lieutenant’s help.”
Knowing he’s right, I brush off my skepticism. Bartending is the one true thing I enjoy these days. I know the allure of liquor, and it’s enjoyable mixing and serving people their requests. Sometimes, liquor makes people boisterous, and sometimes it gives a false sense of bravado, a yearning to explore, or an excuse to forget. Everyone has their reasons, and sometimes, the stories I hear from loosened lips bring an occasional smile to my face.
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