“Nothing, all they remember was the ice cream truck coming by this morning,” a tall, lanky officer Mathieu didn’t know said.
“An ice cream truck? Isn’t it a bit early for that?” It was barely past ten. They’d been all over the neighborhood. The kids weren’t there.
“Hey man, sometimes you just need your fudge pop. I’ll start over here.” The officer tapped a street that was at the edge of their area and possibly the only stretch of houses they hadn’t knocked on.
Not that people were talking to them. This was a low-income area; the families were suspicious of cops, especially the parents of the teenage girl who’d gone missing. It was the type of area where a disappearance might go unnoticed or ignored, if it weren’t for the profile.
Whoever it was that was doing the snatch and grabs wanted teenagers, boys or girls, between the ages of thirteen and fifteen, with brown hair. It didn’t seem to matter the color of their skin. Today’s victim was black. The four previous were a Hispanic, Caucasian twins, and a Filipino. If they didn’t find the suspect or suspects soon, people would start a witch hunt, and then the city would be in an uproar.
He shook his head. It was a disturbing business, all of it. He needed to clear his head so he pulled his phone out and dialed his favorite number.
“Hello Detective Mouton,” a seductive woman’s voice purred on the other end of the line.
“Ms. Babineaux, how are you this morning?” He walked away from the officers, to the edge of the area they’d taken to set up a little headquarters.
“Good. We’ve had a shower, a walk and everyone has had a bath. Next up is laundry.”
He winced. “How bad was it? I picked up his little present.”
“Oh, then you must have missed the pee.”
“He what? That little dog pissed in my bed?” Mathieu couldn’t believe it. He paced up and down the sidewalk, fisting his free hand. Piss. In his bed.
“Yup. All over me.” A door creaked and he could hear the sound of Gator’s panting.
“I cannot believe that.”
“He’s a puppy with a tiny bladder.” She grunted and her breath rattled the phone speaker.
“He pissed in my bed. I can’t believe how ungrateful that little thing is.”
Lisette merely laughed. “Oh, whatever. He’s a puppy. It’ll wash out.”
“Yeah, whatever. We’re going linen shopping tonight when I get off.”
“Alright, Detective, I’m about to go into the basement. I’ll lose you in a minute. Come on Porkchop, they’re just stairs, you can do it.” She must be going down the rear staircase. It was the only direct way to access the laundry room. The building was a warren of dead ends and nonsensical hallways.
“You’re taking the dogs with you?”
“Yeah, don’t tell anyone, okay?” Her voice echoed in the stairwell.
“Fine.” His landlord would have a fit over it, but he preferred the idea of her guarded by Gator. The pit bull was docile, but if someone messed with his humans, Gator would tap into his wilder side and protect his pack, human or canine.
“Okay, I’ll talk to you later.”
Mathieu glanced over his shoulder, but no one was paying him any mind. “Hey, Lissy?”
“Hm?”
“I love you.” There was freedom in saying those three little words.
Lisette merely chuckled, unphased by his admission. “I love you, too. Come home to me soon, okay?”
“Will do.”
He hung up, smiling at his phone. There was a future there, and even with the threat of Seth looming over them, he wouldn’t change anything. Not one minute.
Lisette’s arms ached. The basket of bed linens was far heavier than she’d expected it to be. She set the basket down on the landing and scooped Porkchop up. The puppy wiggled and squirmed, but didn’t mind her putting him on top of the pile.
“Okay, let’s try this now, shall we?” She hauled the basket up onto her hip. “Come on, Gator, just two more flights.”
The older dog rose to his feet and padded down the stairs. She’d tied his leash to her belt loop to free up her hands. She was pretty sure that she could just take the leash and harness off and Gator would follow her, but then other people would complain if they were seen. She’d take the complaints over the alternative of feeling alone and scared. At least with Gator and Porkchop she felt a small measure of protection. Maybe not from the puppy who was more interested in licking her face right now, but he kept her busy thinking about him and not Seth.
It was a chore keeping her mind and hands busy without Mathieu there. She’d bathed both dogs, no small accomplishment, just to fill an hour. Though she hadn’t yet shaken the feeling that Seth was out there, waiting in the shadows, she was trying to put on a brave face and go about her day. Still, she had to pause and give herself a little pep talk at the end of the stairs as she stared down the long hallway. It was awfully secluded and soundproofed from the rest of the building, with only maintenance rooms here and there that were never opened.
The laundry room was in the basement at the end of a long hallway, toward the back of the building. It was a dingy room, with dust bunnies and lint balls hiding in every corner. Even the small, rectangular windows toward the ceiling were covered in grime. A city of lost socks had taken up residence along the only open bit of wall space. The washers and dryers sat in two rows, back to back. In the evenings it was a busy place, and those doing laundry sat on top of their washers, protecting it from poachers who would either replace the laundry with their own, or toss items in looking for a free spin. Today, it was just her and the dogs.
She loaded up two washers with all the linens and the towels from the dog’s bath. What she wouldn’t give for her own washroom right now. Porkchop plunged into the sock pile, happy to make a plaything out of a bit of cotton, while Gator lay down at her feet. It seemed as if it wasn’t just her Porkchop was tiring out today.
“He’s a handful, isn’t he, Gator?”
Gator lifted his head, ears perked up and his tail slowly whipping back and forth.
“Yeah, I know. I’m the one who woke up with pee all over me.”
Gator tilted his head to the side, as if saying, Is that all?
“I don’t like being peed on. Not my kink, thank you very much.” She dropped the quarters into the slots and pushed the silver dispenser in, paying for the wash cycle for first one and then the second load of laundry.
Something, a thump or distant boom of noise, echoed down the hall the moment before the wash cycle turned on, drowning out the noise with the rush of water. She turned toward the door, brows pulled down, waiting for someone to push it open. But no one did.
She tugged on the leash, urging Gator to his feet, and peered through the crack as the hair on the back of her neck rose. No one was in the hall.
Except.
A large rectangle of light bisected the hall. One of the maintenance doors had been opened. It made perfect sense. Of course the building staff would be around during the day, doing their job, fixing things, but she couldn’t shake the creeping sensation that something was wrong.
She glanced over her shoulder, half expecting to see Seth behind her. Being trapped in a dead end, alone, with nothing except the dogs was not a good idea. She didn’t want to leave the wash, but screw it. If the laundry disappeared, she’d make it up to Mathieu somehow.
“Come on, Porkchop.” She scooped the puppy and his sock friend up in her arms.
Peering through the crack once more, she saw a group of what looked to be three adolescent boys descending the stairs. She breathed a sigh of relief, but it didn’t mean she wanted to be downstairs any longer. With Gator at her heels and Porkchop growling at the sock, she pushed through the door and headed toward the group.
She passed the now open maintenance room and glanced in, but didn’t see anyone. There were lockers and large pipes she didn’t know the purpose of, and quite frankly didn’t ca
re about right now.
The boys finally noticed her. They made some under-their-breath remark about the dogs, but let her pass without hindrance. Probably because they were playing hooky from school. She still couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.
At the foot of the stairs she glanced over her shoulder. The boys weren’t watching her, so who was?
She didn’t like it, not at all.
Lisette climbed the stairs to the first floor landing, peering out to see if anyone, namely the landlord, was around to see her with the dogs. The coast was clear so she scuttled across to the wide staircase that wound round and round all the way up the building. As she reached the second floor landing, she heard a heavy thump.
She peered over the banister to the floor below.
A man was on the stairs now, one with dark hair. No, that wasn’t right. The hair was all the wrong color.
He glanced up and her heart leapt to her throat.
Seth.
He’d found her.
For the span of a second they stared at each other, his cold gaze boring into her skull, the promise of death written plainly across his face.
Lisette grabbed the leash, hauling Gator up the stairs faster, two at a time.
“Come on, boy, come on.”
Footsteps pounded on the wooden stairs behind her.
Gator began to growl while Porkchop curled against her, still for once.
How had he found her? Did it matter? Could she get back to the apartment before he got her?
Gator’s growls turned vicious, and he tried to pull her back, to face whatever danger had her running. She hauled the dog along with her, climbing the last flight and throwing the door open to the third floor. She sprinted to the apartment door while digging her cell phone out of her pocket. She hit the dial button and it auto-redialed the last number she called as sobs shook her.
Lisette glanced back as she shoved the key in the door. Seth calmly strode toward her, like something out of a horror movie.
Fuck this shit. She shoved the door open.
“Lissy?” Mathieu said on the line.
“He’s here,” she sobbed, dragging a growling Gator over the threshold.
She jerked him back, mentally apologizing to the dog, and set her shoulder against the door.
“Who’s there?” Mathieu asked.
“Seth.”
The door didn’t close. She shoved, whimpering and trying her hardest, putting all her weight into it, still clutching the puppy with one arm. Gator had his face almost between the door and wall, snarling and snapping.
“Lisette.” Seth grunted.
“Oh my God, I don’t want to die.” She bent, putting her whole force into shoving the immovable door.
The phone clattered to the floor. Porkchop whined and yelped.
Seth grunted and the door shoved inward. Lisette stumbled back, hitting the edge of the archway into the kitchen. She backpedaled as Seth filled the doorway, her worst nightmare staring her in the face.
She was going to die. This was it.
At least she’d told Mathieu she loved him.
“Lisette? Lisette!”
Officers stopped in their tracks, staring at Mathieu as he yelled into the phone. All he could hear were Lisette’s sobs and Gator’s snarls.
What had she said? Was it Seth? Where were the damn cops put on the building?
He glanced around until he saw a familiar face, the lanky cop he’d been talking to over the map. He pointed and crooked his finger.
“Where’s your patrol car?” He needed something with lights. He needed permission to run the siren. He needed a God damned tank to put Lisette in while he ripped Seth limb from limb.
“Here.” The officer gestured to a car at the curb.
Mathieu rattled off his address and got in the passenger seat. The officer moved, not questioning him, and climbed in the driver’s seat.
A scream tore through the speaker and a man’s guttural yell followed. There was clanging, the sounds of a scuffle.
“Run the lights.” Mathieu gripped the handhold on the roof as the officer navigated out of the neighborhood with all haste, lights flashing.
“What the hell is going on?” Officer Ballenger was printed on the label across the back of the computer mounted to the dash.
How did he answer that? Mathieu’s jaw worked as the sounds grew quieter. Was he listening to Lisette die? Was that what was happening?
“I think a witness was just compromised. I think he found her.” His voice broke as he spoke. Lisette wasn’t just a witness, she was the woman he loved. The one he’d never stopped loving. The woman he was meant to live for. She couldn’t die now. Not when they’d found each other.
“Fuck.” Ballenger flipped the siren on and muttered a prayer.
They needed permission to run the siren, technically, but if heat came down, Mathieu would take the blame.
Ballenger radioed in their destination and a request for back-up. At least one of them was thinking, because Mathieu’s only thought was to get to Lisette. She was all that mattered.
The blocks sped by as they pushed the limits of how far they could exceed the speed limit. There wasn’t any more sound coming from the phone now. Just silence.
“What’s going on?” Ballenger asked. His white knuckled grip on the wheel belied his calm voice.
“I don’t know.” His voice cracked and he covered his mouth with his hand. He wanted to ask if they could go faster, but knew the answer was no. They couldn’t risk the lives of pedestrians or other drivers just to answer the call of another.
Even if it was Lisette.
Lisette backed into the kitchen, Seth prowling after her.
Her head reeled. She’d caught a leg of the coffee table with the crown of her head, unable to move out of the way fast enough before he threw it at her.
“I’ve gone to an awful lot of work to find you,” Seth said, his voice low and slightly rough.
“Don’t do this, please, don’t.” She knew there was no reasoning with him, that Seth was a man with a mission. He’d done this before, not just to her, but to women before her, she would bet. And someone cleaned it up for him. He was a killer, a kept murderer. Would her life be considered part of the costs of keeping him leashed?
“You don’t get it, but then again you’re a dumb cunt anyway. I would have thought you’d like this. Doesn’t it get you off to get smacked around? I bet you came when I broke your arm.”
“You’re sick, Seth. No one wants that.” She backed up into the kitchen though she told herself to hold her ground.
She put Porkchop down in the sink and groped on the counter for the clean dishes she’d done that morning by hand. The half-wall hid her goal as her hand closed around the handle of the large chopping knife.
“You do. You wanted it.”
He came around the corner and reached for the puppy.
“No!” Lisette reacted, lunging forward and slashing with the knife.
Gator went with her, sinking his teeth into Seth’s thigh and clamping down. She slashed at Seth’s arms, her only thought to save the puppy.
Seth yelled, his eyes bulging, and shoved her back. Gator went with her, backpedaling as Seth’s full attention was on her.
Lisette took the chance and turned, dashing through the open door, still clutching the knife.
“Help! Someone help me!”
She pounded on the neighbor’s door, the one after that and the one after that. She kept glancing behind her, but didn’t see Seth. Where was he? Why wasn’t he chasing her? Not that she’d mind him giving up, hell, if he just went home and left her alone she’d be happy as a clam, but she doubted that.
No one was home. Not a soul.
She scampered to the staircase. Not the main one, but the smaller one. Mathieu had said something about this one, but she couldn’t remember what it was.
Seth stepped through the doorway, a gun
in his hand.
For a second they stared at each other, blood rushing past Lisette’s ears as she stared at the black gun, taking in his soulless eyes.
She wouldn’t go down, not without fighting. Or running. Running seemed like a really good option.
Lisette grabbed Gator’s harness and fled down the stairs. If she could get on the second floor, maybe she could get help. Or something.
As she reached what should have been the second floor landing, she glanced around for a door.
Nothing.
More stairs.
“Lissy, I’m coming for you. This would be easier if you’d just stop running. It’ll hurt less.”
She plunged down the stairs, Gator at her side.
There was an emergency exit door at the foot of the stairs. She flung it open and sprinted to her right—almost face-planting into a dead end.
They turned onto Mathieu’s street and he tapped the seconds by with his foot.
“This is it up here on the right. The one on the corner.” Mathieu put his hand on the door. He didn’t wait for the car to come to a full stop, but got out when it was still rolling.
“Hey, wait, man!” Ballenger yelled at him.
He didn’t wait. Mathieu charged into the building, taking the stairs three at a time, drawing his handgun as he went. He kept it trained on the ground, his finger off the trigger as he reached his floor, heart pounding. He almost stopped breathing when he saw the front door to his apartment standing open. His focus narrowed to that space between the walls.
He stepped into the apartment, taking in the overturned furniture, the absolute wreck of the place. His gaze darted around, looking for a body. He did a fast walk-through, but she wasn’t in the bathroom or the bedroom.
Thuds, footsteps echoed down the hall.
A dog whined.
Mathieu stepped into the kitchen, at a loss for where to go. Where was Lisette?
Porkchop stood on the counter, ears slicked to his head, back arched. A red mark was smeared over his white fur.
“Mouton?” Ballenger stepped into the apartment, his service gun in hand and pointed at the floor.
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