by Mia Thompson
“I know who he is!” Sapphire clenched her fists. “Why him?”
“Oh, no please,” he urged. “I got him for you. You finish him off.” He pointed the knife to Sapphire.
“No!”
“More of a gun gal perhaps.” William pulled out the gun he stole from the cop. “Killing him with his own weapon. I like it.”
“No! I don’t want to kill him!”
William felt the heavy disappointment weigh him down and dropped the gun to the ground. He turned to the cop and grabbed his knife. “Fine. I will.”
“Stop!” Sapphire held her hand up. “Whatever you think is happening here, killing him is not a gift.”
“I’d ask you to give me one good reason why I should spare this man, who has turned your life to shreds, but I know you have none.” He sliced and the blood seeped out of the superficial wound on the cop’s throat.
“Because I love him!” Sapphire shouted.
“Pardon?” William Dubois stopped at the most horrendous words he’d ever heard.
“I love him.”
“Are you aware that he’s a cop?” His daughter’s ignorant words angered him. “Even as just the Serial Catcher he’s your enemy, Sapphire!”
“I know that!”
William stared at his daughter with abhorrence. He sighed and lowered the knife, knowing he shouldn’t make a statement in this moment.
“Your delusions about yourself are deeper than I anticipated.” William backed away from the cop and his daughter. “But you will join me and you will kill, soon.”
“You’re insane,” Sapphire whispered.
“I may be, but at least I’m honest about what I am.” William looked at the time. “As heroic of a gesture as you just made, the cop will still die. You’re in the middle of nowhere and the closest hospital is twenty minutes away. I’m, should we say, somewhat of an expert of bleed outs. I’d estimate you have about ten minutes before he bleeds to death and the ambulance won’t get here in time.”
He opened the back door and gave her one last look. “Good luck.”
• • •
Sapphire crashed her Range Rover through the barn. The red wood shattered around her. She’d tried to carry Aston out after she cut the ropes, but he was too heavy, and it would take too long to bring him to the car. So she brought the car to him.
She hit the brakes and ran up to him.
“Hold on, Aston. Please, hold on.” Sapphire grabbed him by his arms. Her father quoted ten minutes and she’d already wasted three.
Sapphire screamed as she struggled to drag him into the passenger seat. She slammed the door and saw Aston’s gun on the ground. She snagged it and dashed to the driver’s seat to look at the time. Six minutes left.
She reversed out, crashing through wood again. The car fishtailed in the dirt and she accelerated onto the dark country road.
Her father was right. It would take her twenty minutes to get to the hospital if she took the main road, the only road.
Unless… Sapphire looked at the small town’s faint lights below the mounds of hills. Unless she went straight across.
She stopped at the border of the road to take in the obstacles of heavy terrain and dark shrubbery ahead. She scooted Aston’s head to her lap, then wrapped her arm over his neck and around his armpit to lock him in.
“Hold on.” Sapphire floored the gas.
The Range Rover roared and charged into the thick terrain. She put the brights on, then squinted to focus on avoiding trees, boulders, and pits ahead.
Five minutes left.
The Range Rover bounced on the uneven ground, and Sapphire’s fingers dug into Aston’s skin. Her eyes strayed to the passenger seat; it was saturated with his blood.
Her body tensed as she looked back to the road. When she told her father she loved Aston, she didn’t just say it to stop him. She meant it. She’d loved him for a long time, but it took this event for her to say it.
Sapphire swerved away from a tree, then pushed on the gas again. They catapulted out of the shrubbery and into an uphill field of wheat. Four minutes left.
The Range Rover struggled to make it through the dirt mounds and high crops. The engine revved when she tried to accelerate. The slower the car went the more Sapphire panicked. She squeezed Aston harder, and looked down at him. His breaths were so shallow it barely looked like his chest was rising.
“Everything’s going to be fine,” she told him, her voice desperate. “We’re almost there.”
Aston opened his sluggish eyes and looked up at her. His weak hand lifted toward her face. He grazed her cheek and his lips drew into a faint smile. Then his eyes grew muddled and he passed out again.
The Range Rover scaled the hill and Sapphire saw the light of the small town waiting for them on the other side.
Three minutes left. She could make it. They were so close.
Sapphire hit the gas again and the Range Rover flew down the final hill, demolishing everything in its way.
They got to the bottom and Sapphire swerved onto the paved road. She zig-zagged between the scattered traffic until she got to the hospital. The Range Rover mounted the sidewalk and squealed to a stop at the ER’s doors. Sapphire lay on the horn to get the medics’ attention and they sprinted toward her. Her eyes drew to the clock.
One minutes left.
“Aston, we made it!” Sapphire squeezed him closer in relief.
She looked down to find his chest still, and his breath gone. “Aston?”
Tears burned her eyes as she brought her hand to his neck. Her fingers connected to his cool skin—no pulse. The paramedics rushed at the car, but it was too late.
Aston was already dead.
Chapter 17
“Hello? I’m literally starving here!” Chrissy waved at the passing nurses in the hallway. “Imbeciles.”
“So,” the cop said, “you don’t remember who rescued you?”
“No,” Chrissy sighed in aggravation. Everything was foggy. She had memories of the abduction and the cot, but they were brief. The doctors said this was normal, a way for the brain to blah-blah-blah, and that the memories would probably come back.
Chrissy hated it all. She hated that her parents were still in Abu Dhabi and that she was stuck at this tiny hospital in some puny farmer town. She’d asked, and been denied, to be taken to the Beverly Hills hospital where the staff prepared personal egg white omelets. They served Jello here. Jello. As if she were an animal… or worse—a poor person.
“You didn’t hear any sounds, smell anything that could indicate—”
Chrissy sighed again to make a point. “Listen, Larry…”
“Barry,” the cop corrected.
“Listen, Larry. The sun is barely up, I’m tired, I’m hungry, and the doctor told me it’s gonna take months for my nails to grow back. Do you have any idea what that’s like?”
“I lost a toenail in college once—”
“This is not about you, it’s about me. I’m the kidnap victim. I want my daddy.” Chrissy waved a hand. “Move along, Larry.”
“I know you know it’s Barry. We have, um, friends in common.”
They did? Ew.
“Or actually,” the cop straightened his posture, “it’s Officer Barry Harry to you, and we’re going to do this whether you like it or not. It’s about preventing this man from hurting other women.” He looked her up and down. “I would’ve thought someone in your current situation would have grown more humble.”
“Oh my Gawd, how terrible.” Chrissy put a hand to her mouth as it dawned on her. “Your parents named you Barry Harry?”
A familiar voice sounded in the hallway and their heads turned.
“Ma’am!” someone shouted. “You have to let us work!”
Chrissy groaned. The shouts and squeaky wheels hurt her ears.
“Then do something!” Sapphire’s voice rang clear. Chrissy and Barry looked at each other, then followed the voice out into the hallway.
A man was being
rolled along on a stretcher. Doctors and nurses surrounded him, trying to pump air into his lungs.
“Aston!” Barry exclaimed.
It took Chrissy a second to remember Aston was the cop her BFF had slept with.
Sapphire tried to run alongside the stretcher, but kept tripping on her blood-spattered, Marc Jacobs gown. She didn’t even notice Chrissy when she stumbled by. Rude.
The doctor shouted words Chrissy couldn’t follow—CCs, AB-negative, crash cart—then the group disappeared into a room and shut the door behind them. Two second later, it opened, and Sapphire was thrown out. She ran up to the window that connected to the room and placed her palms on the glass.
“What the hell, Sapphire?” Barry shouted. “Sapphire!”
“This-isn’t-happening-this-isn’t-happening-this-isn’t-happening,” Sapphire mumbled, skin pale and eyes full of tears, as she stared through the window where the doctors were shocking Aston. His body jumped at every jolt, then stayed motionless. Chrissy got nauseated looking at the ever-growing pile of discarded bloody rags.
As the motions and yells in the other room grew more urgent, Chrissy studied her friend. She remembered thinking of John Vanderpilt through her murky memory loss, but would she ever look at him the way Sapphire looked at the cop? It was as if her essence was tied to his.
Then it was over.
All the shouts and the hectic movements behind the window came to a sudden stop, and Chrissy watched her best friend’s face change. Sapphire’s legs gave out and she slid to the floor. She leaned her head against the wall, then closed her eyes. Chrissy barely caught her broken voice.
“I’m going to get him for this.”
• • •
Sapphire had gone against her orders, and was about to suffer the consequences.
She sat in the van she’d rented for this very occasion, and watched the entrance. She was a few hours early, because she’d woken up at dawn. She’d felt like she’d been asleep for a hundred years and she was sated with energy.
She’d charged out of the “family’s” house and got on the road. Her body felt strong, her eyes focused, and her mind sharp. The one at home wouldn’t be back for a while so the True Serial Catcher had plenty of time to take the pair and bring them to her new burial grounds. The answer had been staring her in the face the whole time. This would allow her to flourish before it was time to crawl back into her hellhole filled with family dinners, Wii games, and despair.
Until then, she got to be the manifestation of karma. The fact that she was the one to deliver justice to these men was all that kept her alive. If the one at home didn’t insist on shit like values, and right and wrong, she would do this every hour of every day.
She checked to make sure she had her ski-mask and change of clothes were in the back, then opened the van’s door and inhaled the excitement. It would start today.
As soon as Sapphire and her father were dead, and out of the way, The True Serial Catcher would pull off her biggest plan yet. She was no longer feeble and small like before. It was time she found a way to eradicate the one at home. Soon, she’d be a slave to no one.
The True Serial Catcher grabbed her briefcase, brushed off her gray pantsuit, then moved toward the Beverly Hills courthouse.
• • •
Aston Ridder had died happy.
Lying on the lap of the woman you loved was a sweet way of going… next to boning the woman you love, of course.
He stared into the white light, feeling disorientated. He could see nothing but the luminosity ahead. It was warm and he wanted to sink deeper into it.
So this is death. All this time he’d thought there was nothing once you croaked. Worm food, that’s what he’d assumed. He’d been dead for a few minutes before, but this was different. It was light instead of dark.
He wished to see her face one more time, add one more memory to his final ones. He’d dozed in and out of most of the conversation Sapphire had with her father, but he did hear her shout that she loved him. He realized she said what she said in the courtroom to protect him.
“You’ve had quite a battle, Aston,” said a burly voice around him. “Can you see the light?”
Holy shit, Aston thought. Not only was there an afterlife, but there was a God too. Aston owed about fifty-seven apologies to the annoying Latter-day Saints who’d come knocking on his door. He always thought it was funny when he made them cry. Oops.
“God?” Aston asked.
“Kip,” the voice corrected.
Kip?
“Are you sure I’m going to heaven?” He probably shouldn’t question it, but seriously.
“I don’t know; let’s just focus on getting you out of the hospital first.”
The white light went away, and Aston blinked. A doctor turned off a tiny flash light. “How are you feeling?”
I’m alive? He was alive. Aston immediately retracted his apologies to the Latter-day Saints people—annoying fucks. He hadn’t felt his body at all until the doctor asked him. “I feel like I’m floating on soft clouds and… boobs.”
“Boobs, huh? Nice. That would be the morphine talking.” The doctor scribbled on his chart. “We counted thirty-four cuts on your body. If it wasn’t for the drugs, I promise you wouldn’t feel so hip. You’ve got a button for more morphine right there. Push it twice and you’ll fall right to sleep.”
“Actually,” Aston tried to sit, but got too dizzy, “am I good to go? I’ve got a woman to track down.”
The doctor held his hand out. “Yea high. Dark hair. Tends to blackmail people?”
“Sounds about right.”
The doctor motioned his arm. “No need. She’s right here.”
Aston squinted to the other side of the room where Sapphire stood by the window in her evening gown. It could be the light penetrating the glass, or more likely the morphine, but she looked like an apparition.
“As I tried to explain before she threatened to sue me for malpractice,” the doctor continued, “you’re not strong enough for visitors yet. So make it snappy, okay?”
He left and Sapphire sat down on the side of Aston’s bed. She grazed the morphine tube that went into his arm and he stared at her boobs. God, he loved boobs. What an invention.
“So,” Aston said, finally able to look at her face. “That’s your dad, huh?”
“Yep.”
Aston whistled. “Nice guy.”
Sapphire gave a light chuckle.
Aston looked at her dress then glanced at the clock on the wall. “Do me a favor. Don’t show up to court in a torn evening gown covered in blood. I don’t think I can lie you out of that one.”
It was meant as a joke, but Sapphire stared at him glumly. “You have to stop helping me. I have too many things on my conscience already and I don’t want to add turning a good cop corrupt.”
“What, you’re worried about my morals?” Aston laughed, though it hurt like a mother. “The system is a fucked up gray zone. You know how many times I’ve watched bad people get off scot-free and good people go to prison? Usually it’s out of my hands, but not this time.”
Sapphire’s face turned with torment. “You think I’m a good person?”
“Of course you are,” Aston said in wonder. He examined her the best he could; his eyes and head felt heavy. “For once, tell me the truth. You’re not going to do something stupid, are you?”
“Define stupid.”
“Like planning on trapping your father yourself with the trial going on. Let me handle it. I will get Barry and the boys on it ASAP.”
“No. I’m not planning on trapping him.” Sapphire got up. “I’m planning on killing him.”
Aston stared at her. “You’re pissed, and you think you can, but you won’t be able to. I know you.” He shook his head, feeling his brain scramble. “Which means all you’ll do is put yourself in danger. And you already know I won’t let you do that.”
“I know.”
“The minute you walk through those doors, I’d cal
l Barry, or someone more skilled, and have them on you twenty-four seven.”
“I know you would.” Sapphire leaned down and kissed his forehead, then grabbed Aston’s morphine button.
“Don’t…”
Sapphire looked at him, her face serious, and pushed for morphine twice.
Aston fought the powerful drowsiness and the increasing cloudy-boob softness. The last thing he saw before he lost the battle was the angelic apparition vanishing out the door and into darkness.
• • •
“I love my cousin dearly,” Petunia sobbed. “But I always felt there was something wrong with her. Of course…” She turned to the jury. “You don’t want to believe it about your own family member. But, she is dangerous.”
Sapphire glared at her cousin. Marissa Pearl had saved her biggest ammo for last.
With everything going on with Aston and her father, Sapphire didn’t think she’d care when she walked into the last day of trial before the closing argument, but Petunia Dubois’ statements were about as pleasant as soaking in a tub full of electric eels.
Because Vivienne checked into rehab right after Charles’s death and had been too drunk during the incident, she wasn’t a reliable witness. This left Petunia, whose performance reminded Sapphire of the actresses from Julia’s favorite soap opera: Los Amigos. It wasn’t a compliment.
“What was your cousin doing in the cigar lounge?” Prosecutor Pearl asked.
“She had just gotten done stabbing,” another dramatic sob, “Uncle Charles. Then she killed the other man. When she was done with him, she turned to Aunt Vivienne and myself, and gave us this look… like…” Petunia pulled her biggest sob yet, “she wanted to kill us too.”
Oh, bullshit.
Sapphire’s eyes wandered around the room, searching for her father. How strange to be on trial for murder, while planning another. What choice did she have? The longer her father was out, the more people she cared for would disappear and die like Aston nearly did. She had to stop him, and she would use Aston’s gun to do so.