Killer Within

by Jeff Gunhus

  He justified the gruesome killings as part of his strategy to throw off the FBI, but part of him knew he was chasing the high from his first kill twelve years ago. Part of him knew that no matter what he did, he was chasing the wind. Elusive and forever out of reach.

  But every kill still gave him a taste of that first exhilaration, not nearly with the same intensity, but enough to make him feel alive. And that was the trick of it. He needed this thrill, this sense of power, so that he didn’t slide back into the thing he once was. Weak, confused, unwilling to stand up for himself or for his son.

  He’d tried to give it up. For Jason. The odds of evading capture were against him, after all. Serial killers got caught. And when they did, everyone in their lives was branded with the stigma. So once, several years ago, he’d packed his tools away and resolved to find other outlets for his dark yearnings. It was the only way to protect his son.

  But after only a few months, the itch started. Quietly at first. A whispered suggestion in the back of his mind when he crossed paths with a good candidate for his knife. An attraction to reading true crime books of the world’s most notorious killers. Worst of all, self-doubt and anxiety reentered his mind like water pouring into a boat with a ruptured hull.

  He was a terrible father.

  He’d only been lucky in the stock market.

  He was ugly, and women only approached him for his money.

  He was a fraud.

  These insecurities were weights around his neck, bearing him down deeper and deeper until he realized he was regressing back to the terrible person he’d been before the convenience store. Before he set the bed sheets on fire around his passed-out wife. He understood then that he couldn’t stop. Not unless he wanted things to go back to the way they were before.

  So, he’d killed a waitress in a motel near Orlando. After he fed her piece by piece to gators and basked in the glow of a fresh kill, Arnie decided all of the commercials were right. Orlando actually was the happiest place on Earth. He bounced right back. No more insecurity. No more voices. Only the sense of total power.

  After that, he never let anything get in his way. And that included the goddamn FBI.

  CHAPTER 47

  Charlie slumped forward, the zip ties that bound his wrists to the wooden spindles of the chair digging into his skin. He blinked hard, trying to clear his eyes of the tears and blood obscuring his vision. Every part of his body hurt. There were small knife cuts across his arms and legs that bled long rivulets of blood down his limbs. Each breath he took sent shockwaves of pain through his body from cracked and broken ribs. His head ached so badly that he shook it thinking there might be some kind of diabolical tool attached to him, squeezing his skull until it popped. But he didn’t feel any extra weight, and the shaking only made it hurt worse. The pain was from inside his head, and it felt like his head was going to explode

  He whimpered as his eyes followed the two wires appearing from under his shirt, leading down from his body, across the plastic sheeting on the floor beneath him, and terminating into a car battery nearby. The most recent electric shock left him limp, left his nerves raw and tingling. He didn’t know if he could stand another round.

  The only thing worse than the pain and the anticipation of the next electric shock was the lack of sensation on his face. That felt completely numb. Just deadweight hanging onto his skull like a thick callus peeled back. There were no mirrors in the room so he couldn’t see himself. Not that he really wanted to. His thinking was clear enough to remember the beating Arnie gave him. And he remembered the way the asshole smiled while he did it.

  Charlie felt a wave of guilt for the way he begged and whimpered for Arnie to stop. Toward the end, he didn’t even feel human, just an animal trying to crawl away from the monster killing him one small cut at a time.

  But the final blow never came. There was a reason for that, but Charlie couldn’t remember what it was.

  God, he was thirsty. He tried to swallow, but his dry throat constricted so forcibly that he felt choked. He gasped for air, then coughed hard, sending a splatter of blood across the plastic sheeting. The memory of a TV show came to him. A serial killer who laid out plastic before he finished off his victims. But in that show, the killer only murdered bad people. Charlie was no saint, but he didn’t deserve this.

  Neither does Allison.

  The thought hit him with the power of another electric shock. His head jerked up, a rush of adrenaline clearing his head. He remembered Arnie goading him, the bastard listing the things he planned to do to Allison once she got there. He recalled the flat edge of a knife blade dragged across his chest as Arnie whispered how he would finish Charlie off once he was done with Allison. He promised it would be a quick ending. A mercy gesture meant as a thank-you. After all, he said, without Charlie, he would never have known what a threat Allison was to him.

  And there it was. The truth that hurt more than anything Arnie could do to him. Charlie wasn’t just going to die, but he was going to die a sniveling coward who was responsible for getting an innocent woman tortured and killed. He pictured Allison locked in the basement dungeon. He imagined her screams as the bastard cut into her flesh.

  And it was all on him.

  He looked up, his vision clearer now, the distance from his last shock giving him time to recover. He noticed the small webcam for the first time on the table facing him. Somehow he knew that Arnie was on the other end of the camera. That he was using him as a tool to control Allison just like he promised he would.

  Rage built up inside him. There was a power behind it unlike anything he’d felt before. It was animalistic and primal. And he let it flow through him.

  He bucked and arched his back. Struggled against the zip ties, his wrists turning slick with blood. His grunts filled the air. The zip ties cut deeper into his skin, but he was beyond caring. He twisted and jerked in the chair like a wild animal caught in a steel trap.

  One of the chair legs buckled and Charlie collapsed to the floor, landing on his side. He cried out in frustration and kicked his legs.

  Only this time one of them came free, the chair leg still attached by the zip tie to his ankle, but free of the rest of the chair.

  An involuntary chuckle mixed with a sob as he allowed himself the first hope that he might be able to get free. He looked sharply at the webcam, wondering if Arnie already knew he was breaking out. But he couldn’t, otherwise the car battery would be doing its worst to him.

  He used his free leg to reach out to the battery cables and kicked at them frantically, paranoid that the voltage would hammer into him at any second.

  But it didn’t. The wires were taped tight to his chest, but by wrapping his leg around the cables he was able to get enough leverage to yank them off of his body.

  He gasped for breath from the exertion, but the adrenaline being pumped through his system gave him strength he wouldn’t have believed he had only minutes before. He stood up, balancing on one foot, then threw himself at the nearest wall, smashing the chair with his body.

  The world flared hot white from the pain, and he dropped to the floor. But Charlie growled like an animal, rolled over, and got back up to do it again. The pain didn’t matter, not anymore. All that mattered was survival.

  He reared back and smashed into the wall again, this time the spindle attached to his right hand broke free.

  He paused for a second, holding his bloody hand out in front of him for balance.

  Charlie’s swollen, misshapen face twisted into a grin.

  He intended to do more than just survive.

  CHAPTER 48

  “If you’re going to kill me, at least tell me why you’re doing it,” Allison said.

  Arnie removed the instruments one by one from the case and laid them on the table. “I think you already know the answer to that, don’t you? Let’s not be boring.” He held up a nasty-looking metal
suture hook. “The more interesting question is what brought you to my doorstep? Why did you come looking for me?”

  “Your name was flagged on a white-collar crime case. Stock manipulation,” Allison said. “Then again in the Suzanne Greenville case. A prostitute killed in the District.”

  “I know all that, but I want to know why you chased me down so hard. Why you were so sure I was guilty.”

  “Just trying to be thorough,” Allison replied, trying to sound smug. She did everything she could not to look at the TV screen that showed Charlie’s room. He was nearly free of the chair now. He only needed another minute or two to be free and then at least he could get the hell out of there. But no matter how hard she tried not to look, whenever Arnie turned away for even a second, her eyes involuntarily went to it. She needed to stall Arnie longer.

  Arnie laughed. “You need to be a more convincing liar to play this game, Special Agent McNeil. I’ve had time to piece things together. The way you happened to be at McGarvey’s. The way you slow-played me when I first hit on you. How you even said no to the boat ride the first day. I admit, you played me like a pro.”

  Arnie started to turn around. Allison’s stomach clenched. Her one chance about to be blown.

  “The problem was,” Allison blurted out, “I was attracted to you.”

  Thankfully, this stopped Arnie in place. Allison tried not to show any emotion, but relief washed through her. By his reaction, Arnie hadn’t looked at the TV screen.

  But it was short-lived as Arnie smiled and shook his head.

  “That’s a little heavy-handed, don’t you think?” he asked. “I expected better from you.”

  Allison pressed on. “It wasn’t supposed to happen that way, but it did. There were ghosts for me in Annapolis, ghosts that made me feel weak. I’m tired of feeling that way. And I think you can relate to that. I think you figured a way out from that feeling.”

  Arnie hesitated. It took every bit of willpower for Allison to keep from looking at the TV right behind him.

  With her peripheral vision, she could see that Charlie was no longer on the screen.

  Arnie only had to turn around to see that his prisoner was gone. Allison had to keep his attention on her. She decided to throw all her cards on the table.

  “That’s why you killed those two at the convenience store in Baltimore, right? To take control?”

  Arnie took a quick step forward and sliced through the air with the metal hook. Allison flinched as he pressed it hard against her cheek, its point making a depression on her skin. “Why do you think I killed both of them?” he snarled. “Who else thinks it?”

  Allison ignored the ugly hook right below her eye. His reaction was just what she had hoped for. She stared him down and savored it. Because for that moment, she was in control.

  “Just me,” she said. “My theory. But I’m right, aren’t I?”

  Arnie didn’t flinch as he sunk the tip of the metal hook into Allison’s cheek. She whimpered from the pain and felt a trickle of blood dripping down her face.

  “I want to know everything,” Arnie said calmly. “Who else in the FBI thinks I killed both of them?”

  “I told you, just me. It was a case study at the academy.”

  “Bullshit!” Arnie shouted, losing his cool. He quickly brought himself back under control. “This can be quick or this can be more painful than you could ever imagine.” Allison cried out as the tip of the hook pierced through the inside of her cheek and sank into her gums above her back teeth. “Tell me.”

  She chanced the shortest glance she could manage at the TV screen and confirmed that Charlie was long gone.

  She wondered whether he would run or call the police. If he found a phone, word would get to Richard right away and she might have a chance. If he ran, there was no telling which direction he would go and whether Richard’s team would spot him. Either way, Charlie would be safe. Now she had to figure out how she was going to survive.

  “Don’t believe . . . if . . . don’t want to,” Allison said, her words coming slow and garbled from both the pain and the hook in her mouth. Arnie retracted the instrument so she could speak. “If I don’t come out of here alive, they’re going to know you’re a killer anyway, so what do you care?”

  “Because it’s my secret!” he shouted. “It’s my private moment! Not yours! Mine!” Arnie took a deep breath and fought to get back under control. “Perhaps you’re right. Maybe we should just move on.” He started to turn, only a short motion away from seeing that Charlie had escaped.

  “Wait!” Allison cried. Arnie looked at her, the first time she thought he looked suspicious of her. “I just . . . I want to know. I basically threw my career away on this. Maybe my life too.” Her voice changed to a whisper. “Why? Why the kid behind the counter?”

  Arnie smiled. “The first one. The criminal. That was just rage. The second one was a decision. I had to know I could do it again. I had to know I could have that feeling of pure power whenever I needed it. It changed me. It changed everything.”

  Allison fixed him with her eyes. “That’s why I came here, even suspecting who you really were. I want what you have. I want that power. The FBI doesn’t give a care about me. It’s still a bullshit men’s club.”

  “And when they know about Craig Gerty, it makes it even worse, doesn’t it?” Arnie said with a smirk at Allison’s surprise. “Oh yes, I know all about that. Your friend Charlie,” he swung around and pointed to the TV screen . . . and froze.

  The screen was empty.

  That same second, Charlie burst into the basement. His face twisted into an animal snarl, spittle hanging from his chin, his shirt covered with blood.

  He ran at Arnie, a butcher’s knife in one hand and a metal fireplace poker in the other. Weapons picked up from the house above.

  Arnie dodged the knife thrust but took a smash from the poker to the side of the head.

  He gripped Charlie’s wrist and bent it backward until Charlie screamed from the pain. The knife tumbled to the floor.

  Allison watched helplessly as the men fought back and forth across the room.

  Charlie broke loose and swung the poker mercilessly, bashing Arnie’s forearms and shoulders.

  Then he swung low and slammed Arnie behind one of his knees, dropping him to the floor. With a flurry of blows, Charlie pounded Arnie into submission. Striking his torso, his legs. Anything exposed. Arnie curled up, doing his best to protect his head from the brutal onslaught.

  Finally, Charlie stopped, holding the poker like a baseball bat, ready to strike again if Arnie moved.

  He didn’t.

  Charlie lowered the poker and slowly turned to Allison.

  “Are you OK?” he mumbled through swollen lips.

  CHAPTER 49

  Allison nodded, fighting back tears. “Christ, Charlie . . . Look at you . . . I’m sorry . . . so sorry I dragged you into this.”

  Charlie waved her off. “Let’s just get the hell out of here.” Charlie tugged on the ropes around Allison’s arms, untying the knots. Once loosened, she wriggled out of the rest.

  “I can undo my legs. Did you call for help?”

  Charlie shook his head. “I came straight down here. The bastard had me here for a while, so I knew where to look.”

  Allison pulled on the knot around her ankles. “There’s a cordless phone in his pocket. Grab it and click redial. There’s backup just down the road.”

  “Backup. I like the sound of that.” Charlie grabbed his poker and carefully approached Arnie’s still body. He stuck the sharp end of the poker between Arnie’s shoulder blades and poked him roughly. No movement. “I think maybe he’s dead,” Charlie whispered. “I’ve never killed anyone before.”

  “Charlie, listen to me. Just block all that out, OK? Grab the phone and make the call.”

  Charlie nodded. He reached into Ar
nie’s pocket and slowly pulled out the phone. He held the phone in one hand and tried to hit the redial button, but his hands shook too hard.

  “I can’t,” he said. “My hands won’t stop.”

  Allison fought the last tangle of rope around her legs. “Take a breath. You can do it. Just try.”

  Charlie stabbed at the phone with his finger. He stared at the screen for a second then broke out into a wide grin. “I got it. The call’s—”

  Charlie’s scream was so unexpected that it almost made Allison roll out of the chair for cover. He dropped the poker and clawed behind his head, reaching for his back.

  “Charlie!” Allison yelled.

  He sagged to his knees, revealing Arnie, bloody and snarling, standing behind him. Charlie twisted as he fell to the concrete floor, the butcher knife sticking out between his shoulder blades.

  Arnie’s and Allison’s eyes met. For a beat, they froze and stared at each other. Allison felt a rush of hatred fill her, a cold and brutal emotion that made her heart pound fast in her chest and every muscle in her body flex in preparation for action.

  Arnie’s expression was the same one she’d seen flicker across his face on the boat after saving Jason’s life. Only this time the good-guy persona didn’t reappear. Only the pure anger and hatred remained.

  A voice broke the silence. It was soft, barely intelligible.

  “Hello? Who is this?”

  Richard. His voice coming from the phone that had skittered across the basement floor when Charlie had fallen.

  The call had gone through.

  Arnie sprinted toward the phone.

  Allison tore at the final knots holding her legs as she screamed, “Richard! Help! In the basement. Richard!”

  Arnie stomped on the phone and smashed it into the floor.

  Allison pulled the last of the rope away and sprang from the chair, searching for a weapon. She grabbed the poker and held it in front of her.

  “You’re not getting out of here, you bastard. They’ll be here in a minute.”