LUCY: The Complete Lucy Kendall Series with Bonus Content (The Lucy Kendall Series Book 5)

by Stacy Green

  “This was how long before we arrived?”

  Chris tried to shrug and then winced, reaching for his injured shoulder. “I have no idea. It seemed like a long time. The sun was up when she left. Although there’s no sun today. But it was light.”

  “She’s still driving Lionel Kent’s jeep?”

  “As far as I know. That’s what we came here in, and I didn’t see any other vehicles.”

  Paramedics arrived, stomping their way across the beaten down floors. I stepped out of the way, and Chris reached for me, but I stayed back. “They need to take care of you.”

  “Will you go to the hospital with me?”

  I didn’t want to. I wanted to be here, digging for Mary and finding out more of her lies. And I didn’t want to be alone with Chris. Not yet.

  “She’ll be along a little later.” Lennox saved me. “I need her here.”

  Chris closed his eyes. “See you soon, Luce.”

  I watched in silence as the medics stabilized Chris and then carried him out of the house, struck by how little I felt. Relief he was alive, disappointment Mary was gone and Alan dead, but yet…no earth-shattering emotion. No urge to thank God for Chris’s safe return, no overwhelming desire to throw my arms around him and never let go.

  Why didn’t I feel more?

  “Walk with me.”

  I followed Lennox to the back of the house into a dirty kitchen. No plates in the sink or rotting food, but black filth covered the counter like a fine sheen of gloss. Even more lined the sink, mold seeping up from the drain. So much grime covered the window I couldn’t see outside. Sections of tile from the floor had been ripped out and discarded, revealing a stained subfloor.

  “No wonder Alan could afford this place.”

  “I’m not sure he ever lived here,” Lennox said. “I think they just used it for the victims.”

  The kitchen floor took on a whole new meaning. “Are there signs she buried them in here?”

  “No,” Lennox said. “But that doesn’t mean she didn’t kill them here and then remove the evidence. But having them in the house isn’t Mary’s style, is it?” His gaze drifted out the open back door to the storage shed. The SERT team and a state trooper waited.

  “The shed’s clear,” Lennox said. “Of anything living, at least.”

  36

  Newer than the house, the shed was long and low, probably twenty by ten feet, all metal and no windows. The SERT commander nodded at Lennox.

  “We found the remains of two teenaged girls. We’ll need the ME to give us time of death, but there’s been insect activity, so I’m guessing they died in the fall and then froze. Winter’s preserved them.”

  “How many of you have been inside?” Lennox asked.

  “Just me.”

  “Good man.” He pulled a pair of white paper booties from his pocket and handed them to me. “You can help me confirm Mary’s handiwork.”

  As if he couldn’t do it himself. When we were both protected, he opened the door.

  “Drawstring light on the immediate left,” the commander said.

  Lennox yanked the string, and a dim yellow light flooded the building.

  The perfect killer’s lair waited.

  Three wooden benches sat in the middle of the space. Along the walls were knives, hammers, pliers. Lighters were scattered around the floor. Two wooden spoons sat by themselves on a shelf, right at eye level.

  After years of traveling and hiding their trade, Mary and her father finally had the perfect place to enact their terrible deeds.

  The dead girls were on the floor against the wall, piled one on top of the other, the way a slaughterhouse disposes of carcasses. Both had blackened skin and nails, but only the bottom girl’s face was visible. Her right eye was gone, either ripped out or eaten by the same insects that had devoured part of her cheek. They were so frozen the scent of death had been driven away.

  “No sign of the old man?” Lennox called back over his shoulder.

  “Nope,” the commander said.

  “What’s she going to do with him?” I asked. “It’s too cold to bury him, and she can’t exactly drive up to a funeral home or hospital and ask for help.”

  “Maybe we’ve got a female Norman Bates on our hands,” Lennox said. “She’s going to keep him with her, keep driving, keep killing.” He rubbed his hands together. “Let her. She’ll make a mistake for sure.”

  I opened my mouth to remind him he’d said that before, but an old steamer trunk near the door distracted me. Whatever color it once had faded to the color of the dead trees surrounding the property. The wooden slats had cracks between them, and the lid was so warped it wouldn’t shut completely.

  That’s why I saw the blanket.

  No more than two steps and I stood in front of it. My wool gloves protected the evidence, so I reached with shaking hands and lifted the aging lid.

  At first I thought it was just a worn white hospital blanket, covered with various yellow stains, bunched together. But then I saw the shape of the knobby knees, the roundness of the head.

  Lennox appeared at my side. I allowed him to pull back the blanket.

  An old man with sunken cheeks, liver spots, and no teeth stared at us with dead, milky eyes.

  37

  “She left him here until she could figure out where to bury him,” I said.

  “That means she’s still out there, driving Lionel’s Jeep.” Lennox’s teeth ground together. “I will catch her.”

  “Good luck with that.” I walked outside, past the SERT guys, sucking in fresh air. The shed was the only other building on the property. The driveway ran west, the opposite direction we’d come from. I knew the troopers had satellite maps, and Mary’s back was pinned against the wall. She’d just lost everything, and if I were her, now would be the time for mistakes.

  I think I’d kill myself.

  Mary’s insatiable need for control would give her the strength to end her life if she truly believed she was out of options. Mine too.

  Is that what Chris had seen in me at Camp Hopeful? The thing he journaled about but couldn’t quite name? That my need for absolute control of my own life would be the thing that separated me from everyone else, the thing that would eventually drive me to take justice into my own hands? Or had he simply recognized the same kind of monster he’d spent the formative years of his childhood with?

  Some people thought suicide was a sign of weakness, but it wasn’t. It’s the ultimate show of control, and sometimes, the only time a person had it. That’s exactly what happened with my sister. Chris could have turned out the same way if his aunt and uncle hadn’t intervened.

  All the confusing threads strung together then, just as an icy breeze swathed my face.

  I hurried around the front of the house, heading for the driveway and the SUV. Lennox caught up with me, and I realized someone had given him a police jacket. “I’ll take you to the hospital to see Chris. One of the local guys said that damned reporter was snooping around town too. I’d like to know who in the hell she got her information from.”

  I almost said no. Because the future–my future–stretched very clearly in front of me then, shining on the horizon like a perfect mirage. No more death and destruction. No more lies, no more Marys. Something different. Something real.

  But I had loose ends to tie up.

  Chris didn’t wake until several hours later. I sat dutifully beside him, watching over him until his aunt and uncle arrived. But my motivations were no longer altruistic. I needed my answers.

  He’d been treated for infection in both his shoulder and toe, which had been severed with precision and the bleeding staunched by someone with experience. Most likely Alan, whose war records showed he had to do something similar for a member of his squad in Korea, to save him from gangrene. Is that where his love of torture sparked?

  First troopers and then Lennox questioned Chris before the painkillers took effect. Alan had approached him at the Maryland property, acting every bit
the part of a frail old man. Then he’d shot, and Chris passed out from the pain. When he’d woken, he was in the cabin, with Alan treating the wound. He tried to plead with the man, but Mary appeared. She refused to answer any questions and tied Chris back up. The girl was already dead in the bedroom. Lionel arrived at some point, and a shouting match ensued. Chris realized he’d been given some kind of painkiller. His memories were hazy, but he recalled being carted from the cabin and then stuck in the car with his twisted family.

  He’d told Lennox Mary didn’t talk much.

  I wasn’t so sure I believed that.

  Chris began to stir, and my lack of patience took over. I gripped his hand, softly calling his name until his eyes flickered open.

  “Hey.” His torn lips still looked painful, but the blood had been cleaned off his face. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Me too.” I wanted to be nice. Or at least, I thought I should be nice. But the stress had taken its toll. “Tell me why, Chris.”

  He blinked a few times, clearing his throat. “I don’t know. When my aunt told me my mother had tried to keep me, I snapped. All this time, I thought she didn’t want me. And she did.”

  “Because it was always about winning,” I said. “Did it ever occur to you that she and her father would have trained you to be just like them? That even if they were wrong to lie, your aunt and uncle saved your life?”

  “It did, yeah. After I got shot.”

  I didn’t return the sarcasm. “Did you have any kind of plan?”

  “To kill her.”

  “With what?” I asked. “You didn’t have any weapons, did you? The police didn’t find any evidence of that, and you never fought back.”

  He closed his eyes, his chin jutting out, jaw tight.

  “You wanted her to kill you.” I couldn’t keep it inside any longer. For days, the idea had only been a vague notion tumbling through my mind, something I couldn’t put my finger on. “You didn’t have the guts to end your own life, and you wanted answers. So you figured she’d give you both.” Chris didn’t fight because he didn’t want to come back to the real world that failed him.

  “Does it matter now?”

  “It matters to me, because I blamed myself for your actions. I felt like I failed you. And I probably did. But you would have done this anyway, right? From the moment she answered your email, this was the plan.” The compassion drained out of my voice, and I tried to keep from talking any louder. Chris would withdraw if I started yelling.

  “No,” he said. “Not until my aunt told me the truth. And then I just didn’t care.”

  I wanted to ask him what it was like to be in Mary’s presence, what sort of horrible things she’d filled his mind with, but it didn’t matter.

  “I feel sorry for you,” I said. “But not because of what you’ve gone through. Because you can’t see how much you have going for you. Because your fear is so paralyzing, you can’t let the past go. I guess you forgot everything you learned at Camp Hopeful.” I said the words casually, my eyes hard on his.

  He swallowed. “I can explain. It’s not how it looked.”

  “You stalked me.”

  “Only because I was afraid to say anything,” he said. “How was I supposed to approach you? Hey, I remember you from the summer we were at a special camp and I’ve tracked you down thanks to my uncle?”

  “How much was true?”

  “All of it,” he said. “I did hear your name from him, when he was talking about Justin’s release. And I remembered you. I swear I didn’t intend to follow you. I just couldn’t get the guts to say anything. And then I realized what you were doing, and I was so stunned. And jealous. I remembered your story, that your sister had killed herself. I knew that’s why you were doing it. And I wanted to do that too. I wanted to wash away all of my memories just like you did.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell me the truth?” Hypocritical question, but I asked it anyway.

  He shrugged. “I didn’t know how to.”

  “I wish you had figured it out.” I didn’t know what else to say. I stood up and stretched. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

  “Where are you going?”

  Cold worked its way through me as I slipped on my coat. It settled into the pit of my stomach like a rock, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel real warmth again. “Your aunt and uncle will be here soon, and you need to work this out with them. It’s between the three of you.”

  He tried to sit up, his eyes wild. “But where are you going?”

  “Home, Chris. I’m going home.” I zipped up the coat, pulled on my gloves. “I’ll see you when you get there.”

  “What about Mary?” Chris said. “She’s still out there. She got away, after all of this.”

  “She’s Lennox’s problem,” I said. “And believe me, he wants to find her. He’s got the best chance of any of us.”

  “Prison’s too good for her.”

  “You don’t believe that.”

  He stared at me, as if I were really stupid enough to believe him.

  “Chris, you could have fought her. You could have tried.”

  “I did.” He stretched out his arms. “How do you think I got these?”

  Maybe. But he hadn’t tried hard enough. I’d refused to allow those thoughts to surface during the investigation, but Chris needed to understand that he hadn’t fooled me. “In the gas station, why didn’t you say anything to the clerk? Or to Lionel? You knew he wasn’t fully on board. You’re a persuasive guy. The two of you could have outmatched Mary and Alan, even with the gun. You just didn’t want to.”

  “That’s not true.” His head whipped back and forth, his pupils dilated, his lips trembling.

  “It is,” I said. “When it came right down to doing the right thing with Mary, you couldn’t do it. Because you didn’t have the will to survive, but you didn’t have the guts to kill yourself.” A viciousness welled up inside me. “That’s the difference between you and me. You didn’t stop her because you were afraid. I would have killed her because I want to live.”

  He fell back on the pillow, feebly shaking his head. “I didn’t know what to do. She gave me painkillers, messed with my head.”

  That much was true–he’d tested positive for a combination of oxycodone and Vicodin. “Maybe you’re right, and I’m just tired and angry because you stalked me. That’s why I need to leave.”

  “But you’ll come back, right? And my mother–you promised. You promised!”

  I reached for the door. “I’ll see you when you get back in town.”

  38

  Lennox had ordered another rental car for me, and it was supposed to be parked in the second level of the Oxford City Hospital’s parking garage. Cold night air rushed me, and I shivered. I needed to drive back to Maryland and pick up Kelly. Then she and I would go back home and figure out what we were going to do next.

  Chris’s words about my sister had struck a nerve. He’d known from the moment he saw me drop cyanide on someone that it all went back to my sister, while I remained clueless. But he’d made one misinterpretation. I clung to my memories like a starving child, uncertain of how to navigate life without them. I couldn’t even blame my actions on the piece of trash who destroyed her life and walked away with too few consequences. But a bigger, more selfish person had to be held accountable for Lily’s death. Me. I’d been old enough to know something was wrong, and I should have gotten help. She even begged me to stick up for her to our mother, but I didn’t. I didn’t even know why anymore. If my sister had gotten angry with me, I might have been able to forgive myself. But she’d understood, even consoled me, while I betrayed her.

  If I killed enough of the same kind of monster who hurt her, then maybe I would obliterate the part of me who’d stood by and done nothing while Lily’s life was ruined.

  Instead I’d become a whole new kind of fiend, and I couldn’t escape. All of my prior bad acts scarred my soul, driving me to do it again and again, helping to wipe the scum o
ff the earth one sexual deviant at a time. But they were just symbols, because I finally realized the person I wanted to kill was myself. The coward, the control freak, the liar.

  I’d keep going in this vicious circle until someone did it for me. Just like Chris tried to do.

  I’d find a way to succeed where he failed.

  Kelly would mourn me. Or visit me in prison, whichever came first. But she’d eventually understand that this was the right choice. I didn’t deserve any kind of redemption. I’d done too many bad things. I should have fought harder for Lily. Everything would have been different if I’d just stood up to my mother or I’d gone to someone else, like my grandmother. She would have done the right thing.

  But I stayed silent.

  I didn’t deserve to start fresh.

  Half asleep, I tried to sneak into the motel room in Jarrettsville, but Kelly shot up from the bed, hair sticking out, her hand already reaching under the pillow for my gun.

  “It’s just me.” I dropped my bag by the door and then my coat. I nearly face-planted on the carpet in the battle to remove my shoes. My body begged for sleep, my eyelids weighted down like anchors.

  “It’s over?” She asked as I crawled in next to her.

  “Chris is safe,” I said. “Nothing’s changed from the last time I texted. The manhunt’s still on for Mary. Lennox says he’s got leads on the Jeep. I told him we’re going home in the morning. I’m done with all of this.”

  She lay back down, her slim hands folded over her chest. “What about Chris? Did he tell you what Mary was like? Or even better, what the hell he was thinking?”

  “He didn’t say much.” I’d tell Kelly my theories on the drive home tomorrow. Right now I wasn’t sure I had the brainpower to articulate them. “He’s still in shock.”

  I felt her eyes on me, sensed the curiosity in her. I forced myself to pull back my eyelids and try to smile. “I’ll tell you more tomorrow. I’m beat.”