by Marie Harte
“Cute. Now what’s up?” he asked, tugging his jeans up over his hips. He had to bite back a groan as the material brushed against his cock, pumping more blood into the shaft. Damn, now was not the time for another hard-on, especially if he was going to have to talk to Fallon. He didn’t need her to see how badly he really needed her.
“Nothing much. I just single-handedly figured out how our friend, The Priest, is calling your girl.”
“It might be wise if you didn’t let Fallon hear you describe her in those terms. Not if you want to keep all your body parts intact…” Though he had to admit, he liked the sound of it. “So what’s the story with the phone?”
“Well it seems that in the olden days…you know, when you first joined up with the Bureau…and cell phones weren’t quite the fashion statement they are now, they had a phone designated for CB calls. Anyone who had one could tune in a certain frequency and ring this phone in the centre. Of course, that technology is pretty old school, and most truckers and the like all have cells now, so they just dial 9-1-1 instead. But according to the records, the phone’s still connected as a backup measure.”
“That’s very interesting, and I appreciate the history lesson, but what has that got to do with Fallon. She’s using a cell, not a CB.”
“I was just getting to that part. Geez, Gil. Don’t take all the fun out of this. Anyway, it seems when Jane called Fallon that first night, she used the old CB phone to make the call. She said she didn’t want their conversation to be recorded. I took that to mean they were talking about sex. But apparently, in her efforts to get the damn thing to dial out, she inadvertently forwarded the line.”
“So when Fallon picked up…”
“Any incoming calls for that phone were sent on to her cell.”
“Wade, are you trying to tell me our serial killer is calling Fallon using a CB radio?”
“Maybe not a CB exactly, but some type of hand-held transmitter tuned to the old emergency frequency. Quite brilliant, really. Not only is his call not recorded, but it’s harder than hell to trace, especially now that it’s being forwarded to a cell. It’ll jump off a few repeaters in the process.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah. I just thought you’d want to know, so you can decide where we go from here.”
“Where we go?”
“Yeah, you know. Whether you want me to cancel the call forwarding so the calls come into the centre instead of going to Fallon’s cell.”
Gil frowned. He hadn’t really thought about that. It seemed more logical, but then his reason for seeing Fallon would disappear, and he’d have to face the reality of his feelings for her. Damn, it wasn’t a fair decision. He cursed under his breath and glanced back at Fallon over his shoulder just in time to see her ride into the trees, her bike barely visible in the growing dark.
“Damn it, Fallon! Fuck.”
“Everything okay?”
“What? Ah, shit.” He raked his fingers through his hair, scanning the ground for his T-shirt. Instead he found her cut up tank and his ripped pullover. Great, she took my T-shirt.
“Hey, Gil? You still there? Do you want me to change the phone?”
“Just leave it the way it is. There’s no one at the centre better qualified to take the calls than Fallon, anyway. Besides, the bastard might not be too pleased if we make him talk to someone else. Better to keep Fallon on it. At least she’ll keep us in the loop.”
“And give you a reason to keep close tabs on hers…sounds like a good plan to me.”
“Wade…”
“Easy, Gil. I’m only teasing. I’ve heard nothing but great things about your girl since I got here. I was going to suggest we keep her involved as well.”
His girl. Damn, he wished that were true. But he had a bad feeling she was going to be even less thrilled to see him next time. Maybe he needed to work on his technique, though he’d thought she’d been more than happy with his performance.
“Okay. I’ll head back over to the precinct and pick you up.”
“What, no plans?”
“Oh, I’ve got plans. Plans of heading back to the office to go over the new crime scene photos. We can pick up some Chinese on the way.”
“We?”
“I’ll be there in forty minutes. Don’t keep me waiting.”
Gil slammed the phone shut, and stared at where the trail wove down to the parking lot. If he hurried, he might be able to catch her before she drove off. But if he caught up with her, they’d have to talk, and he didn’t quite know what to say…yet.
“Okay, Fallon. I’ll let you go this time, but don’t think you’ll escape so easily the next time I’ve got you beneath me.” He smiled at the thought. “And there will be a next time, darling.”
Chapter Eight
Fallon sat by the window, watching the rain streak down the glass. She’d managed to strap her bike on the back of her Jeep and jump behind the wheel before the sky had opened up, and poured the tears she’d refused to shed. Even now she sat silently in the dark, her heart numb, her fingers clenched together on her lap. She tried to lose herself in the rhythm of the rain, knowing if she thought about Gil her control would snap, and she’d end up weeping on the floor. Or worse, she’d call his cell and beg him to fuck her again.
“Damn you,” she snarled, fighting the urge to throw the mug at her feet across the floor. She’d banished herself to the back window bench once she’d showered and paced the living room floor until she was sure she’d worn a path in the wood. What the hell had she done?
She sighed and leant her head against the glass. She’d spread her thighs wide and practically begged Gil to fuck her.
I want you to lick me until I come…I want you to fuck me until I can’t stand up.
She cursed the taunting voice in her head. Okay, so she’d begged. Either way it didn’t change the facts. She’d slept with him—twice—thrust her pussy into his mouth, felt his fingers stroke her ass, cried out as he’d pumped his cum inside her over and over…
Fallon gasped and sat up, kicking the mug across the cold wood. He’d come inside her, and he hadn’t used a condom.
“Oh God.”
She felt the world spin as the realisation rocked through her. She panicked not sure how she found herself staring at the calendar on the fridge. Somehow she’d moved, but she couldn’t remember the path to the kitchen. She frowned at the insignificant thoughts, brushing them away with a flick of her wrist as she scanned the dates. She’d had her period…
“Fuck!” She shook her head, counting the days again. “Great. Just fucking great!” Her voice bounced off the cabinets, but didn’t care. She needed to yell, to scream at the injustice her life had become. For two years she’d taken the pill, faithfully ensuring their lives weren’t disturbed by any mistake either of them would end up regretting. But shortly after Gil’s departure, she’d developed headaches, and had stopped taking the damn thing at her doctor’s request.
At the time, it hadn’t seemed to matter. No sex, no problem. But now here she was, up the proverbial creek without a paddle. Sure, she wanted kids, and the thought of carrying Gil’s child inside her made her knees weak and her stomach flip-flop. But they weren’t together. One romp in the hay, or two on the ground, wasn’t a relationship, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to use getting pregnant as a way of getting him back.
She sank down in a chair and tried a deep, soothing breath. Maybe she was one of those women who’d have to try for years to get pregnant? Maybe Gil and her weren’t a good match, genetically speaking? Maybe…
The feeling came upon her in a sudden rush of grey. It moved through her, extinguishing all thoughts and feelings. She fell forward, her hands instinctively bracing her fall, as the invisible cloud surrounded her, drawing her into its elusive mist. She struggled at first, scared at what images would greet her on the other side, but finally relented when the fog blurred into solid form, the outline of an altar appearing before her. She knew where she was, even if she didn�
��t know which church it was. And she knew who had summoned her.
Fallon closed her eyes, hoping it was all a dream. She didn’t want to see another woman mangled and bloody, knowing any information she discovered would come too late to stop the woman’s blood from running in tiny rivulets along the hard wooden floor. She didn’t want the knowledge that even as she watched the scenes rush past her, she was helpless to change them. That she’d never see the man’s face. Never stop the bastard from claiming his prey.
“Yes. Take it. Take all of it.”
The words caught her by surprise and she forced her eyes open. She hadn’t expected to see him until he’d opened the door, seeking his escape, as in her previous visions. But this one seemed different. She couldn’t place what was out of sorts, but something was…missing.
“Let me cleanse the wickedness from your soul.”
Fallon turned. A familiar sound echoed through the dark space, vibrating off the silent walls. She looked around, noting the intricate stained glass windows and arched walkways. This wasn’t a broken down building, like the last place. It was regal, and worthy of whatever God its clergy prayed to. The pews were polished, shining in the wavering light cast by the candles, and she could almost hear the soothing tones of a children’s choir singing from behind the pulpit.
“Can you feel me?” the voice asked.
Fallon tensed as her gaze settled off to the right, where the altar had filled her vision upon her arrival. It was hidden in the shadows and she found herself inching towards it, hating each step, but needing to see what was happening. The sound grew stronger, wet slick sounds that made the hairs on her neck tingle. She recognised it now for what it was—someone was fucking. A male groan rumbled through the air and the wet sounds grew faster.
She cringed, not sure why she was here. She’d expected to find a woman spread across the hard wood, her body carved, her eyes dull, unseeing. Perhaps this was a dream?
“Yes. You want it, don’t you?”
She stopped, unable to turn away from the scene before her. A man, his pants pushed down to his thighs, his ass pumping steadily back and forth. He held the woman’s feet around his waist, keeping her open for him, her knees bent against her chest. His face was turned away from her, but she could tell by the grey hair laced amidst the blonde, it was him…The Priest.
Fallon stepped closer, but no matter which way she moved, his face was never visible. It was part of her curse. She’d never been able to see anyone’s face except the victims. And those haunted her dreams.
She stopped moving and watched the man rape the woman, his cock sliding in and out of her pussy, glistening with the woman’s cream as it left her body before plunging back in. The woman’s eyes were open, but they were dull. Not dead, but not seeing. He’d drugged her, or tortured her to the point she’d retreated inside herself, already gone, but still breathing. Either way, it eased some of the fear from Fallon’s chest. At least the woman wouldn’t die knowing she’d been used in such a manner. The man didn’t seem to care. He watched only her cunt, commenting on the wetness of it and how warm and plump it was as he cleansed the demons from her soul. Fallon watched as his thrusts increased, a tension bunching the muscles in his thighs. He was close.
“Yes. Take my seed and let it purge the evil from your soul!”
Fallon flinched at the righteousness in his voice, as if he truly believed he was saving the woman. His body went rigid, his hips grinding into the woman’s pelvis as the air hissed from his chest in steady pants. He was still coming and Fallon only wished she could strike now, while he was most vulnerable. But all she could do was watch the images flow around her, alternating between their solid and semi-transparent forms. Her presence here was tentative, and she wondered how long she’d be able to stay.
“Now, you’re clean.” He pulled out and sighed as he tucked his cock back inside his pants and fastened them around his waist. Then he took his knife and placed it at the woman’s throat. “Rejoice in your purity as you move to from this world to the next.”
Fallon screamed and backed away, unable to draw her eyes away from the steady stream of blood flowing from the woman’s neck. He hadn’t sliced it open or mutilated it, but simply put a small hole in one side. The woman’s body jerked once, and then stilled, her eyes still open, still staring at the ceiling.
“Oh God.”
Heat fused through her, circling the room right, then left. Her body moved, and she knew she’d fallen to the floor. She thought she’d heaved, but only knew the feel of the wood beneath her hands, the rough play of fabric across her knees. She was crawling, but she didn’t know where she was heading. A loud crack filled the room, dropping her to her stomach. The sound rolled through her head, pulling her down, sparking pain so fierce she heard her own cry fill the heavy air. She was dying. It was the only answer. The vision was killing her, as surely as the man had killed the woman. She reached out, and wrapped her hands around a thin spindle, as the world shifted again, and launched her into the air.
“No!”
* * * *
Fallon moaned and grabbed her head, her stomach lurched as the floor dipped one way and then the other. Her phone blared off to her left, the music filling the empty air. She pulled herself over, not sure why she needed to answer it, only knowing she did. Somehow she found the strength to lift her body up and grab the small unit off the table. She opened it, her mind already aware of who was on the other end.
“9-1-1.”
That’s all she could say before the kitchen swirled again, threatening to throw her to the floor. She didn’t know how she kept her body upright. It was unusual she was even conscious, always losing herself for hours after her visions. But somehow she held on, clearing her mind, fighting to keep the air flowing into her chest. She heard a man breathe into the phone, and tensed.
“Hello, Angel.”
She cringed at the sexual tone to his voice, as if they were lovers. And while she’d never seen his face, she knew the smile that curved his lips. It was smug, but with a hint of regret, like killing the woman had taken a toll on his soul. But he’d done it just the same. She tried to pull herself up, inject some authority into her words, but any motion set off fireworks in her head, and it took all her strength not to moan. “Priest.”
He chuckled as she spoke his name. The sound sent a cold shiver down her spine. “I love that you know the sound of my voice, Angel. It’s like we’re connected.”
Fallon’s stomach heaved again, and had to beat the feeling down. She wouldn’t fail the woman…not again. “I’m sure you’d feel that way with whoever answered the phone. I suppose I’ve just been lucky.”
The Priest growled, and for a moment, she thought she’d made a mistake. “I told you before that you’re destined for this, Angel! It’s your voice, so soft and deep. It’s like listening to the heavens sing. I won’t talk to another, Angel. Only you.”
Her throat constricted around her next breath, and she had to force herself to inhale through her nose. She wanted to talk to him, but the grey feeling was returning, threatening to draw her back into his world. She closed her eyes, willing the vision away.
“What’s the matter, Angel? Don’t you want to talk to me?”
She nodded, forcing a hushed, ‘yes’, from her lips.
“Good. You know, it’s funny. I feel as if I know you, like I’ve seen you before. I can imagine your eyes, so full of compassion and understanding. I bet they’re blue, Angel. Am I right?” He laughed, the sound cold and calculating. “You don’t have to answer me. I’ll know…in time.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Don’t worry, Angel.”
“But it sounds as if you think I need to be…cleansed.” She struggled around the word, hoping he wouldn’t hear her revulsion. She needed to keep his trust, until Gil could catch his sorry ass.
He paused, the sound of his breath the only noise filling her head. “But then who would I talk too?”
His ques
tion sounded real, sincere. But there was something in his voice that made her wonder if there’d come a time when he wouldn’t need someone to talk to. And then what? She tried to ask him, but only a faint whimper came out.
“I like talking to you,” he continued. “You soothe me. Help me hold off the need…at least for a while. I—I don’t want to hurt you.”
But he would, if his demons demanded it. She could hear it in her head as surely as if he’d spoken the words aloud. She forced herself to swallow, hoping the saliva would ease the dry feeling in her throat. “I don’t want that either. I like talking to you, too.” It was a lie, but she hoped maybe the idea would soothe him further. Maybe keep him from killing another woman for a few more days.
“Then I’ll have to call you again. But first, you need to know where to send the police. It’s by the river, southwest district, very ornate. I think you’d like it. She’s waiting there for them. Until next time, Angel…”
“Wait! Can’t we talk a bit more? I’d like to know more about you.”
“All in good time. But I’ve lingered too long as it is. And I wouldn’t want you to give me any reason to change my opinion of you, Angel.” He grunted then. “I don’t like to be betrayed.”
Fallon listened to the words followed closely by the whine of the phone. He wanted her to advertise his work, but he didn’t want her to give any information that might get him caught. He was hanging on the edge, and she feared his desperation to cleanse his own demons was strengthening.
She disconnected the line and stared at the phone, watching it blur and shimmy against her hand. The visions were still pulling at her, but she focused on dialling the number, pressing each button in sequence. She couldn’t let them take her, not until after she’d talked to Gil. Her stomach rolled in protest and she sucked in a deep breath to keep the bile from rising in her throat. They were hovering just outside her reach, but she was managing to keep them there, a first for her. That’s when it hit her.